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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
Title: The Arte of English Poesie | 1 |
THE ARTE | 1 |
AT LONDON | 1 |
194 | |
Of proportion poeticall. fol. 53 | 195 |
Of ornament poeticall and that it resteth in figures. 114 | 196 |
Author: George Puttenham
Release Date: August 3, 2005 [EBook #16420]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK the arte of English poesie ***
Produced by Bibliotheque nationale de France, Greg
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OF ENGLISH
Poesie.
Contriued into three Bookes: The first of Poets and Poesie, the second of Proportion, the third of Ornament.
[Illustration: An CHORA SPEI (shield with hand coming out of a cloud and holding onto an anchor entwined with vine)]
Printed by Richard Field, dwelling in the black-Friers, neere Ludgate. 1589.
To the right honorable sir
William CECILL knight,
Lord of BVRGHLEY, Lord high TREASVRER
of England, R.F.
Printer wisheth health and prosperitie, with the commandement and vse of his continuall seruice.
This Booke (right Honorable) coming to my handes, with his bare title without any Authours name or any other ordinarie addresse, I doubted how well it might become me to make you a present thereof, seeming by many expresse passages in the same at large, that it was by the Authour intended to our Soueraigne Lady the Queene, and for her recreation and seruice chiefly deuised, in which case to make any other person her highnes partener in the honour of his guift it could not stand with my dutie, nor be without some prejudice to her Maiesties interest and his merrite. Perceyuing besides the title to purport so slender a subiect, as nothing almost could be more discrepant from the grauitie of your yeeres and Honorable function, whose contemplations are euery houre more seriously employed upon the publicke administration and services: I thought it no condigne gratification, nor scarce any good satisfaction for such a person as you. Yet when I considered, that bestowing vpon your Lordship the first vewe of this mine impression (a feat of mine owne simple facultie) it could not scypher her Maiesties honour or prerogatiue in the guift, nor yet the Authour of his thanks: and seeing the thing it selfe to be a deuice of some noueltie (which commonly it giveth euery good thing a speciall grace) and a noueltie so highly tending to the most worthy prayses of her Maiesties most excellent name. So deerer to you I dare conceiue them any worldly thing besides love although I could not deuise to have presented your Lordship any gift more agreeable to your appetite, or fitter for my vocation and abilitie to bestow, your Lordship beyng learned and a louer of learning, my present a Book and my selfe a printer alwaies ready and desirous to be at your Honourable commaundement. And thus I humbly take my leave from the Black-friers, this xxvii of May, 1589.
Your Honours most humble
at commaundement,
R.F.
A colei
[Illustration of Queen holding orb and sceptre.]
Che se stessa rassomiglia & non altrui.
The first booke,
Of Poets and Poesie.
CHAP. I.
What a Poet and Poesie is, and who may be worthily sayd the most excellent Poet of our time.
A Poet is as much to say as a maker. And our English name well conformes with the Greeke word: for of [Greek: poiein] to make, they call a maker Poeta. Such as (by way of resemblance and reuerently) we may say of God: who without any trauell to his diuine imagination, made all the world of nought, nor also by any paterne or mould as the Platonicks with their Idees do phantastically suppose. Euen so the very Poet makes and contriues out of his owne braine both the verse and matter of his poeme, and not by any foreine copie or example, as doth the translator, who therefore may well be sayd a versifier, but not a Poet. The premises considered, it giueth to the name and profession no smal dignitie and preheminence aboue all other artificers, Scientificke or Mechanicall. And neuerthelesse without any repugnancie at all, a Poet may in some sort be said a follower or imitator, because he can expresse the true and liuely of euery thing is set before him, and which he taketh in hand to describe: and so in that respect is both a maker and a counterfaitor: and Poesiean art not only of making, but also of imitation. And this science in his perfection, can not grow, but by some diuine instinct, the Platonicks call it furor: or by excellencie of nature and complexion: or by great subtiltie of the spirits & wit or by much experience and obseruation of the world, and course of kinde, or peradventure by all or most part of them. Otherwise how was it possible that Homer being but a poore priuate man, and as some say, in his later age blind, should so exactly set foorth and describe, as if he had bene a most excellent Captaine or Generall, the order and array of battels, the conduct of whole armies, the sieges and assaults of cities and townes? or as some great Princes maiordome and perfect Surueyour in Court, the order, sumptuousnesse and magnificence of royal bankers, feasts, weddings, and enteruewes? or as a Polititian very prudent, and much inured with the priuat and publique affaires, so grauely examine the lawes and ordinances Ciuill, or so profoundly discourse in matters of estate, and formes of all politique regiment? Finally how could he so naturally paint out the speeches, countenance and maners of Princely persons and priuate, to wit, the wrath of Achilles, the magnanimitie of Agamemnon, the prudence of Menelaus, the prowesse of Hector, the maiestie of king Priamus, the grauitie of Nestor, the pollicies and eloquence of Vlysses,
CHAP. II.
That there may be an Art of our English Poesie, as well as there is of the Latine and Greeke.
Then as there was no art in the world till by experience found out: so if Poesie be now an Art, & of al antiquitie hath bene among the Greeks and Latines, & yet were none, vntill by studious persons fashioned and reduced into a method of rules & precepts, then no doubt may there be the like with vs. And if th’art of Poesie be but a skill appertaining to vtterance, why may not the same be with vs as wel as with them, our language being no lesse copious pithie and significatiue then theirs, our conceipts the same, and our wits no lesse apt to deuise and imitate then theirs were? If againe Art be but a certaine order of rules prescribed by reason, and gathered by experience, why should not Poesie be a vulgar Art with vs as well as with the Greeks and Latines, our language admitting no fewer rules and nice diuersities then theirs? but peraduenture moe by a peculiar, which our speech hath in many things differing from theirs: and yet in the generall points of that Art, allowed to go in common with them: so as if one point perchance which is their feete whereupon their measures stand, and in deede is all the beautie of their Poesie, and which feete we haue not, nor as yet neuer went about to frame (the nature of our language and wordes not permitting it) we haue in stead thereof twentie other curious points in that skill more then they euer had, by reason of our rime and tunable concords or simphonie, which they neuer obserued. Poesie therefore may be an Art in our vulgar, and that verie methodicall and commendable.
CHAP. III.
How Poets were the first priests, the first prophets, the first Legislators and politicians in the world.
The profession and vse of Poesie is most ancient from the beginning, and not as manie erroniously suppose, after, but before any ciuil society was among men. For if it was first that Poesie was th’originall cause and occasion of their first assemblies; when before the people remained in the woods and mountains, vagarant and dipersed like the wild beasts; lawlesse and naked, or verie ill clad, and of all good and necessarie prouision for harbour or sustenance vtterly vnfurnished: so as they litle diffred for their maner of life, from the very brute beasts of the field. Whereupon it is fayned that Amphion and Orpheus, two Poets of the first ages, one of them, to wit Amphion, builded vp cities, and reared walles with the stones that came in heapes to the sound of his harpe, figuring thereby the mollifying of hard and stonie hearts by his sweete and eloquent perswasion. And Orpheus assembled the wilde beasts to come in heards to harken to his musicke and by that meanes made them tame, implying thereby, how by his discreete and wholesome lessons vttered in harmonie and with melodious instruments, he brought the rude and sauage people to a more ciuill and orderly life, nothing as it seemeth, more preuailing or fit to redresse and edifie the cruell and sturdie courage of man then it. And as these two Poets and Linus before them, and Museus also and Hesiodus in Greece and Archadia: so by all likelihood had mo Poets done in other places and in other ages before them, though there be no remembrance left of them, by reason of the Recordes by some accident of time perished and failing. Poets therfore are of great antiquitie. Then forasmuch as they were the first that entended to the obseruation of nature and her works, and specially of the Celestiall courses, by reason of the continuall motion of the heauens, searching after the first mouer, and from thence by degrees comming to know and consider of the substances separate & abstract, which we call the diuine intelligences or good Angels (Demones) they were the first that instituted sacrifices of placation, with inuocations and worship to them, as to Gods; and inuented and stablished all the rest of the obseruances and ceremonies of religion, and so were the first Priests and ministers of the holy misteries. And because for the better execution of that high charge and function, it behoued than to live chast, and in all holines of life, and in continuall studie and contemplation: they came by instinct divine, and by deepe meditation, and much abstinence (the same assubtiling and refining their spirits) to be made apt to receaue visions, both waking and sleeping, which made them vtter prophesies, and foretell things to come. So also were they the first Prophetes or seears, Vidontes, for so the Scripture tearmeth
CHAP. IIII.
How the Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomers and Historiographers and Oratours and Musiciens of the world.
Vtterance also and language is giuen by nature to man for perswasion of others, and aide of them selues, I meane the first abilite to speake. For speech it selfe is artificiall and made by man, and the more pleasing it is, the more it preuaileth to such purpose as it is intended for: but speech by meeter is a kind of vtterance, more cleanly couched and more delicate to the eare then prose is, because it is more currant and slipper vpon the tongue, and withal tunable and melodious, as a kind of Musicke, and therfore may be tearmed a musicall speech or vtterance, which cannot but please the hearer very well. Another cause is, for that it is briefer & more compendious, and easier to beare away and be retained in memorie, then that which is contained in multitude of words and full of tedious ambage and long periods. It is beside a maner of vtterance more eloquent and rethoricall then the ordinarie prose, which we use in our daily talke: because it is decked and set out with all manner of fresh colours and figures, which maketh that it sooner inuegleth the iudgement of man, and carieth his opinion this way and that, whither soeuer the heart by impression of the eare shal be most affectionatly bent and directed. The vtterance in prose is not of so great efficacie, because not only it is dayly vsed, and by that occasion the eare is ouerglutted with it, but is also not so voluble and slipper vpon the tong, being wide and lose, and nothing numerous, nor contriued into measures, and sounded with so gallant and harmonical accents, nor in fine alowed that figuratiue conueyance, nor so great licence in choise of words and phrases as meeter is. So as the Poets were also from the beginning the best perswaders and their eloquence the first Rethoricke of the world. Euen so it became that the high mysteries of the gods should be reuealed & taught, by a maner of vtterance and language of extraordinarie phrase, and briefe and compendious, and aboue al others sweet and ciuill as the Metricall is. The same also was meetest to register the
CHAP. V.
How the wilde and sauage people vsed a naturall Poesie in versicte and time as our vulgar is.
And the Greeke and Latine Poesie was by verse numerous and metricall, running vpon pleasant feete, sometimes swift, sometime slow (their words very aptly seruing that purpose) but without any rime or tunable concord in th’end of their verses, as we and all other nations now use. But the Hebrues & Chaldees who were more ancient then the Greekes, did not only use a metricall Poesie, but also with the same a maner or rime, as hath bene of late obserued by learned men. Wherby it appeareth, that our vulgar running Poesie was common to all the nations of the world besides, whom the Latines and Greekes in speciall called barbarous. So as it was notwithstanding the first and most ancient Poesie, and the most vniuersall, which two points do otherwise giue to all humane inuentions and affaires no small credit. This is proued by certificate of marchants & trauellers, who by late nauigations haue surueyed the whole world, and discouered large countries and strange peoples wild and sauage, affirming that the American, the Perusine & the very Canniball, do sing and also say, their highest and holiest matters in certaine riming versicles and not in prose, which proues also that our maner of vulgar Poesie is more
CHAP. VI.
How the riming Poesie came first to the Grecians and Latines, and had altered and almost split their maner of Poesie.
But it came to passe, when fortune fled farre from the Greekes and Latines, & that their townes florished no more in traficke, nor their Vniuersities in learning as they had done continuing those Monarchies: the barbarous conquerers inuading them with innumerable swarmes of strange nations, the Poesie metricall of the Grecians and Latines came to be much corrupted and altered, in so much as there were times that the very Greekes and Latines themselues tooke pleasure in Riming verses, and vsed it as a rare and gallant thing: Yea their Oratours proses nor the Doctors Sermons were acceptable to Princes nor yet to the common people vnlesse it went in manner of tunable rime or metricall sentences, as appeares by many of the auncient writers, about that time and since. And the great Princes, and Popes, and Sultans would one salute and greet an other sometime in frendship and sport, sometime in earnest and enmitie by ryming verses, & nothing seemed clerkly done, but must be done in ryme: Whereof we finde diuers examples from the time of th’Emperours Gracian & Valentinian downwardes; For then aboutes began the declination of the Romain Empire, by the notable inundations of the Hunnes and Vandalles in Europe, vnder the conduict of Totila & Atila and other their generalles. This brought the ryming Poesie in grace, and made it preuaile in Italie and Greece (their owne long time cast aside, and almost neglected) till after many yeares that the peace of Italie and of th’Empire Occidentall reuiued new clerkes, who recouering and perusing the bookes and studies of the ciuiler ages, restored all maner of arts, and that of the Greeke and Latine Poesie withall into their former puritie and netnes. Which neuerthelesse did not so preuaile, but that the ryming Poesie of the Barbarians remained still in his reputation, that one in the schole, this other in Courts of Princes more ordinary and allowable.
CHAP VII.
How in the time of Charlemaine and many yeares after him the Latine Poetes wrote in ryme.
And this appeareth euidently by the workes of many
learned men, who wrote about the time of Charlemaines
raigne in the Empire Occidentall, where the
Christian Religion, became through the excessive authoritie
of Popes, and deepe deuotion of Princes strongly fortified
and established by erection of orders Monastical
in which many simple clerks for deuotion sake & sanctitie
were receiued more then for any learning, by which
occasion & the solitarinesse of their life, waxing
studious without discipline or instruction by any
good methode, some of them grew to be historiographers,
some Poets, and following either the barbarous rudenes
of the time, or els their own idle inuentions, all
that they wrote to the fauor or prayse of Princes,
they did it in such maner of minstrelsie, and thought
themselues no small fooles, when they could make their
verses goe all in ryme as did the Schoole of Salerno,
dedicating their booke of medicinall rules vnto our
king of England, with this beginning.
Anglorum Regi scripsit tota schola
Salerni
Sivus incolumem, sivis te reddere sanicari
Curas tolle graues, irasci crede prophanum
Necretine ventram nec stringas as fortiter
annum.
And all the rest that follow throughout the whole
booke more curiously
than cleanely, neuerthelesse very well to the purpose
of their arte. In
the same time king Edward the iij. him selfe
quartering the Armes of
England and France, did discouer his pretence and
clayme to the Crowne of
Fraunce, in these ryming verses.
Rex sum regnorum bina ratione duorum
Anglorum regnio sum rex ego iure paterno
Matris iure quidem Francorum nuncupor
idem
Hinc est armorum variatio facta meorum.
Which verses Philip de Valois then possessing
the Crowne as next heire
male by pretexte of the law Salique, and holding
our Edward the third,
aunswered in these other of as good stuffe.
Praedo regnorum qui diceris esse duorum
Regno materno priuaberis atque paterno
Prolis ius nullum ubi matris non fuit
vllum
Hinc est armorum variatio stulta tuorum.
It is found written of Pope Lucius, for his
great auarice and tyranny
vsed ouer the Clergy thus in ryming verses.
Lucius est piscis rex et tyrannus aquarum
A quo discordat Lucius iste parum
Deuorat hic hom homines, his piscibus
insidiatur
Esurit hic semper hic aliquando satur
Amborum vitam si laus aquata notaret
Plus rationis habet qui ratione caret.
And as this was vsed in the greatest and gayest matters
of Princes and Popes by the idle inuention of Monasticall
men then raigning al in their superlative. So
did every scholer & secular clerke or versifier, when
he wrote any short poeme or matter of good lesson
put it in ryme, whereby it came to passe that all
your old Proverbes and common sayinges, which they
would have plausible to the reader and easy to remember
and beare away, were of that sorte as these.
In mundo mira faciunt duo nummias &
ira
Molleficant dura peruertunt omnia iura.
And this verse in disprayse of the Courtiers life
following the Court of
Rome.
Vita palatina dura est animaque ruina.
And these written by a noble learned man.
Ire redire fequi regum sublimia castra
Eximiius status est, sed non sic itur
ad astra.
And this other which to the great injurie of all women
was written (no
doubt by some forlorne lover, or else some old malicious
Monke) for one
woman’s sake blemishing the whole sex.
Fallere stere nere mentari nilque tacere
Haec qumque vere statuit Deus in muliere.
If I might have bene his Iudge, I would have had him
for his labour serued as Orpheus was by the
women of Thrace. His eyes to be picket out with
pinnes for his so deadly belying of them, or worse
handled if worse could be deuised. But will ye
see how God raised a revenger for the silly innocent
women, for about the same ryming age came an honest
civill Courtier somewhat bookish, and wrate these
verses against the whole rable of Monkes.
O Monachi vestri stomachi sunt amphor
a Bacchi
Vos estos Deis est restes turpissima pestis.
Anon after came your secular Priestes as jolly rymers
as the rest, who
being sore agreeued with their Pope Calixtus,
for that he had enjoyned
them from their wives,& railed as fast against him.
O bone Calixte totus mundus perodit
te
Quondam Presbiteri, poterant vxoribus
vti
Hoc destruxisti, postquam tu Papa fursti.
Thus what in writing of rymes and registring of lyes was the Clergy of that fabulous age wholly occupied.
We finde some but very few of these ryming verses
among the Latines of the
ciuiller ages, and those rather hapning by chaunce
then of any purpose in
the writer, as this Distick among the disportes
of Ouid.
Quot coem stellas tot habet tua Roma
puellas
Pascua quotque haedos tot habet tua Roma
Cynedos,
The posteritie taking pleasure in this manner of Simphonie
had leasure as it seemes to deuise many other knackes
in their versifying that the auncient and ciuill Poets
had not vfed before, whereof one was to make euery
word of a verse to begin with the same letter, as did
Hugobald the Monke who made a large poeme to
the honour of Carolus Caluus, euery word beginning
with C. which was the first letter of the king’s
name thus.
Carmina clarisona Caluis cantate camenae.
And this was thought no small peece of cunning, being in deed a matter of some difficultie to finde out so many wordes beginning with one letter as might make a iust volume, though in truth it were but a phantasticall deuise and to no purpose at all more then to make them harmonicall to the rude eares of those barbarous ages.
Another of their pretie inuentions was to make a verse
of such wordes as by their nature and manner of construction
and situation might be turned backward word by word,
and make another perfit verse, but of quite contrary
sence as the gibing Monke that wrote of Pope Alexander
these two verses.
Laus tua non tua fraus, virtus non
copia rerum,
Scandere te faciunt hoc decus eximium.
Which if ye will turne backward they make two other
good verses, but of a
contrary sence, thus.
Eximium decus hoc faciunt te scandere
rerum
Copia, non virtus, fraus tua non tua laus.
And they called it Verse Lyon.
Thus you may see the humors and appetites of men how diuers and chaungeable they be in liking new fashions, though many tymes worse then the old, and not onely in the manner of their life and vse of their garments, but also in their learninges and arts, and specially of their languages.
CHAP. VIII.
In what reputation Poesie and Poets were in old time with Princes and otherwise generally, and how they be now become contemptible and for what causes.
For the respectes aforesayd in all former ages and
in the most ciuill countreys and commons wealthes,
good Poets and Poesie were highly esteemed and much
fauoured of the greatest Princes. For proofe whereof
we read how much Amyntas king of Macedonia
made of the Tragicall Poet Euripides.
And the Athenians of Sophocles.
In what price the noble poemes of Homer were
holden with Alexander the great, in so much
as euery night they were layd vnder his pillow, and
by day were carried in the rich iewell cofer of Darius
lately before vanquished by him in battaile. And
not onely Homer the father and Prince of the
Poets was so honored by him, but for his sake all
other meaner Poets, in so much as Cherillus
one no very great good Poet had for euery verse well
made a Phillips noble of gold, amounting in
value to an angell English, and so for euery hundreth
verses (which a cleanely pen could speedely dispatch)
he had a hundred angels. And since Alexander
the great how Theocritus the Greeke Poet was
fauored by Tholomee king of Egipt & Queene Berenice
his wife, Ennius likewise by Scipio Prince
of the Romaines, Virgill also by th’Emperour
Augustus. And in later times how much were
Iehan de Mehune & Guillaume de Loris
made of by the French kinges, and Geffrey Chaucer
father of our English Poets by Richard the second,
who as it was supposed gaue him the maner of new Holme
in Oxfordshire. And Gower to Henry
the fourth, and Harding to Edward the
fourth. Also how Frauncis the Frenche
king made Sangelais, Salmonius, Macrinus, and
Clement Marot of his priuy Chamber for their
excellent skill in vulgare and Latine Poesie.
And king Henry the 8. her Maiesties father
for a few Psalmes of Dauid turned into English
meetre by Sternhold, made him groome of his priuy
chamber, & gaue him many other good gifts. And
one Gray what good estimation did he grow vnto
with the same king Henry, & afterward with
the Duke of Sommerset Protectour, for making certaine
merry Ballades, whereof one chiefly was, The hunte
Page 11
is vp, the hunte is up. And Queene Mary
his daughter for one Epithalamie or nuptiall
song made by Vargas a Spanish Poet at her mariage
with king Phillip in Winchester gaue him during
his life two hundred Crownes pension: nor this
reputation was giuen them in auncient times altogether
in respect that Poesie was a delicate arte, and the
Poets them selues cunning Princepleasers, but for
that also they were thought for their vniuersall knowledge
to be very sufficient men for the greatest charges
in their common wealthes, were it for counsell or
for conduct, whereby no man neede to doubt but that
both skilles may very well concurre and be most excellent
in one person. For we finde that Iulius Caesar
the first Emperour and a most noble Captaine, was
not onely the most eloquent Orator of his time, but
also a very good Poet, though none of his doings therein
be now extant. And Quintus Catulus a good
Poet, and Cornelius Gallus treasurer of Egipt,
and Horace the most delicate of all the Romain
Lyrickes, was thought meete and by many letters
of great instance prouoked to be Secretarie of estate
to Augustus th’Emperour, which neuerthelesse
he refused for his vnhealthfulnesse sake, and being
a quiet mynded man and nothing ambitious of glory:
non voluit accedere ad Rempublicam, as it is
reported. And Ennius the Latine Poet was
not as some perchaunce thinke, onely fauored by Scipio
the Africane for his good making of verses,
but vsed as his familiar and Counsellor in the warres
for his great knowledge and amiable conuersation.
And long before that Antinienides and other
Greeke Poets, as Aristotle reportes in his
Politiques, had charge in the warres. And Firteus
the Poet being also a lame man & halting vpon one
legge, was chosen by the Oracle of the gods from the
Athenians to be generall of the Lacedemonians
armie, not for his Poetrie, but for his wisedome and
graue perswasions, and subtile Stratagemes whereby
he had the victory ouer his enemies. So as the
Poets seemed to haue skill not onely in the subtilties
of their arte, but also to be meete for all maner
of functions ciuill and martiall, euen as they found
fauour of the times they liued in, insomuch as their
credit and estimation generally was not small.
But in these dayes (although some learned Princes
may take delight in them) yet vniuersally it is not
so. For as well Poets as Poesie are despised,
& the name become, of honorable infamous, subiect
to scorne and derision, and rather a reproch than a
prayse to any that vseth it: for commonly who
so is studious in th’Arte or shewes himselfe
excellent in it, they call him in disdayne a phantasticall:
and a light headed or phantasticall man (by conuersion)
they call a Poet. And this proceedes through the
barbarous ignoraunce of the time, and pride of many
Gentlemen, and others, whose grosse heads not being
And put his name to them. And before him his vncle & father adoptiue Iulius Caesar, was not ashamed to publish vnder his owne name, his Commentaries of the French and Britaine warres. Since therefore so many noble Emperours, Kings and Princes haue bene studious of Poesie and other ciuill arts, & not ashamed to bewray their skils in the same, let none other meaner person despise learning, nor (whether it be in prose or in Poesie, if they them selues be able to write, or haue written any thing well or of rare inuention) be any whit squeimish to let it be publisht vnder their names, for reason serues it, and modestie doth not repugne.
CHAP. IX.
How Poesie should not be imployed vpon vayne conceits or vicious or infamous.
Wherefore the Nobilitie and dignitie of the Art considered aswell by vniuersalitie as antiquitie and the naturall excellence of it selfe, Poesie ought not to be abased and imployed vpon any vnworthy matter & subject, nor vsed to vaine purposes, which neuerthelesse is dayly seene, and that is to vtter contents infamous & vicious or ridiculous and foolish, or of no good example & doctrine. Albeit in merry matters (not vnhonest) being vsed for mans solace and recreation it may well be allowed, for as I said before, Poesie is a pleasant maner of vtterance varying from the ordinarie of purpose to refresh the mynde by the eares delight. Poesie also is not onely laudable, because I said it was a metricall speach vsed by the first men, but because it is a metricall speech corrected and reformed by discreet iudgements, and with no lesse cunning and curiositie than the Greeke and Latine Poesie, and by Art bewtified & adorned, & brought far from the primitiue rudenesse of the first inuentors, otherwise it might be sayd to me that Adam and Eues apernes were the gayest garmentes, because they were the first, and the shepheardes tente or pauillion, the best housing, because it was the most auncient & most vniversall: which I would not haue so taken, for it is not my meaning but that Art & cunning concurring with nature, antiquitie & vniuersalitie, in things indifferent, and not euill, doe make them more laudable. And right so our vulgar riming Poesie, being by good wittes brought to that perfection we see, is worthily to be preferred before any other matter of vtterance in prose, for such vse and to such purpose as it is ordained, and shall hereafter be set downe more particularly.
CHAP. X.
The subiect or matter of Poesie.
Hauing sufficiently sayd of the dignitie of Poets and Poesie, now it is tyme to speake of the matter or subiect of Poesie, which to myne intent is, what soeuer wittie and delicate conceit of man meet or worthy to be put in written verse, for any necessary use of the present time, or good instruction of the posteritie. But the chief and principall is: the laud honour & glory of the immortall gods (I speake now in phrase of the Gentiles.) Secondly the worthy gests of noble Princes: the memoriall and registry of all great fortunes, the praise of vertue & reproofe of vice, the instruction of morall doctrines, the reuealing of sciences naturall & other profitable Arts, the redresse of boistrous & sturdie courages by perswasion, the consolation and repose of temperate myndes, finally the common solace of mankind in all his trauails and cares of this transitorie life. And in this last sort being vsed for recreation onely, may allowably beare matter not alwayes of the grauest, or of any great commoditie or profit, but rather in some sort, vaine, dissolute, or wanton, so it be not very scandalous
CHAP. XI.
Of poemes and their sundry formes and how thereby the auncient Poets receaued surnames.
As the matter of Poesie is diuers, so was the forme of their poemes & maner of writing, for all of them wrote not in one sort, euen as all of them wrote not vpon one matter. Neither was euery Poet alike cunning in all as in some one kinde of Poesie, not vttered with like felicitie. But wherein any one most excelled, thereof he tooke a surname, as to be called a Poet Heroick, Lyrick, Elegiack, Epigrammatist or otherwise. Such therefore as gaue them selves to write long histories of the noble gests of kings & great Princes, entermedling the dealings of the gods, halfe gods or Heroes of the gentiles, & the great & waighty consequences of peace and warre, they called Poets Heroick, whereof Homer was chief and most auncient among the Greeks, Virgill among the Latines. Others who more delighted to write songs or ballads of pleasure, to be song with the voice, and to the harpe, lute, or citheron & such other musical instruments, they were called melodious Poets [melici] or by a more common name Lirique Poets, of which sort was Pindarus, Anacreon and Callimachus with others among the Greeks: Horace and Catullus among the Latines. There were an other sort, who sought the fauor of faire Ladies, and coueted to bemone their estates at large, & the perplexities of loue in a certain pitious verse called Elegie, and thence were called Eligiack: such among the Latines were Ouid, Tibullus, & Propertius. There were also Poets that wrote onely for the stage, I meane playes and interludes, to receate the people with matters of disporte, and to that intent did set forth in shewes pageants, accompanied with speach the common behauiours and maner of life of priuate persons, and such as were the meaner sort of men, and they were called Comicall Poets, of whom among the Greekes Menander and Aristophanes were most excellent, with the Latines Terence and Plautus. Besides those Poets Comick there were other who serued also the stage, but medled not with so base matters: For they set forth the dolefull falles of infortunate & afflicted Princes, & were called Poets Tragicall. Such were Euripides and Sophocles with the Greeks,
CHAP. XII.
In what forme of Poesie the gods of the Gentiles were praysed and honored.
The gods of the Gentiles were honoured by their Poetes in hymnes, which is an extraordinarie and diuine praise, extolling and magnifying them for their great powers and excellencie of nature in the highest degree of laude, and yet therein their Poets were after a sort restrained: so as they could not with their credit vntruly praise their owne gods, or vse in their lauds any maner of grosse adulation or vnueritable report. For in any writer vntruth and flatterie are counted most great reproches. Wherfore to praise the gods of the Gentiles, for that by authoritie of their owne fabulous records, they had fathers and mothers, and kinred and allies, and wiues and concubines: the Poets first commended them by their genealogies or pedegrees, their mariages and aliances, their notable
CHAP. XIII.
In what forme of Poesie vice and the common abuses of mans life was reprehended.
Some perchance would thinke that next after the praise and honoring of their gods, should commence the worshippings and praise of good men, and specially of great Princes and gouernours of the earth; in soueraignety and function next vnto the gods. But it is not so, for before that came to passe, the Poets or holy Priests, chiefly studied the rebuke of vice, and to carpe at the common abuses, such as were most offensiue to the publique and priuate, for as yet for lacke of good ciuility and wholesome doctrines, there was greater store of lewde lourdaines then of wife and learned Lords, or of noble and vertuous Princes and gouernours. So as next after the honours exhibited to their gods, the Poets finding in man generally much to reproue & litle to praise, made certaine poems in plaine meetres, more like to sermons or preachings then otherwise, and when the people were assembled togither in those hallowed places dedicate to their gods, because they had yet no large halles or places of conuenticle, nor had any other correction of their faults, but such as rested onely in rebukes of wife and graue men, such as at these dayes make the people ashamed rather then afeard, the said auncient Poets used for that purpose, three kinds of poems reprehensiue, to wit, the Satyre, the Comedie, & the Tragedie: and the first and most bitter inuectiue against vice and vicious men, was the Satyre: which to th’intent their bitternesse should breede none ill will, either to the Poets, or to the recitours, (which could not haue bene chosen if they had bene openly knowen) and besides to make their admonitions and reproofs seeme grauer and of more efficacie, they made wife as if the gods of the woods, whom they called Satyres or Silvanes, should appeare and recite those verses of rebuke, whereas in deede they were but disguised persons vnder the shape of Satyres as who would say, these terrene and base gods being conuersant with mans affaires, and spiers out of all their secret faults: had some great care ouer man, & desired by good admonitions to reforme the euill of their life, and to bring the bad to amendment by those kinde of preachings, whereupon the Poets inuentours of the deuise were called Satyristes.
CHAP. XIIII.
How vice was afterward reproued by two other maner of poems, better reformed then the Satyre, whereof the first was Comedy, the second Tragedie.
Bvt when these maner of solitary speaches and recitals of rebuke, vttered by the rurall gods out of bushes and briers, seemed not to the finer heads sufficiently perswasiue, nor so popular as if it were reduced into action of many persons, or by many voyces liuely represented to the eare and eye, so as a man might thinke it were euen now a doing. The Poets deuised to haue many parts played at once by two or three or foure persons, that debated the matters of the world, sometimes of their owne priuate affaires, sometimes of their neighbours,
CHAP. XV.
In what forme of Poesie the euill and outragious bahauiours of Princes were reprehended.
Bvt because in those dayes when the Poets first taxed by Satyre and Comedy, there was no great store of Kings or Emperors or such high estats (al men being yet for the most part rude, & in a maner popularly egall) they could not say of them or of their behauiours any thing to the purpose, which cases of Princes are sithens taken for the highest and greatest matters of all. But after that some men among
CHAP. XVI.
In what forme of Poesie the great Princes and dominators of the world were honored.
Bvt as the bad and illawdable parts of all estates and degrees were taxed by the Poets in one sort or an other, and those of great Princes by Tragedie in especial, (& not till after their deaths) as hath bene before remembred, to th’intent that such exemplifying (as it were) of their blames and aduersities, being now dead, might worke for a secret reprehension to others that were aliue, liuing in the fame or like abuses. So was it great reason that all good and vertuous persons should for their well doings be rewarded with commendation, and the great Princes aboue all others with honors and praises, being for many respects of greater moment, to haue them good & vertuous then any inferior sort of men. Wherfore the Poets being in deede the trumpetters of all praise and also of slaunder (not slaunder, but well deserued reproch) were in conscience & credit bound next after the diuine praises of the immortall gods, to yeeld a like ratable honour to all such amongst men, as most resembled the gods by excellencie of function and had a certaine affinitie with them, by more then humane and ordinarie virtues shewed in their actions here vpon earth. They were therefore praised by a second degree of laude: shewing their high estates, their Princely genealogies and pedegrees, mariages, aliances, and such noble exploites, as they had done in th’affaires of peace & of warre to the benefit of their people and countries, by inuention of any noble science, or profitable Art, or by making wholesome lawes or enlarging of their dominions by honorable and iust conquests, and many other wayes. Such personages among the Gentiles were Bacchus, Ceres, Perseus, Hercules, Theseus and many other, who thereby came to be accompted gods and halfe gods or goddesses [Heroes] & had their commedations giuen by Hymne accordingly or by such other poems as their memorie was therby made famous to the posteritie for euer after, as shal be more at large sayd in place conuenient. But first we will speake somewhat of the playing places, and prouisions which were made for their pageants & pomps representatiue before remembred.
CHAP. XVII.
Of the places where their enterludes or poemes drammaticke were represented to the people.
As it hath bene declared, the Satyres were first vttered in their hallowed places within the woods where they honoured their gods vunder the open heauen, because they had no other housing fit for great assemblies. The old comedies were plaid in the broad streets vpon wagons or carts vncouered, which carts were floored with bords & made for remouable stages to passe from one streete of their townes to another, where all the people might stand at their ease to gaze vpon the sights. Their new comedies or ciuill enterludes were played in open pauilions or tents of linnen cloth or lether, halfe displayed that the people might see. Afterward when Tragidies came vp they deuised to present them vpon scaffolds
CHAP. XVIII.
Of the Shepheards or pastorall Poesie called Eglogue, and to what purpose it was first inuented and vsed.
Some be of opinion, and the chiefe of those who haue written in this Art among the Latines, that the pastorall Poesie which we commonly call by the name of Eglogue and Bucolick, a tearme brought in by the Sicilian Poets, should be the first of any other, and before the Satyre comedie or tragedie, because, say they, the shepheards and haywards assemblies & meetings when they kept their cattell and heards in the common fields and forests, was the first familiar conuersation, and their babble and talk vnder bushes and shadie trees, the first disputation and contentious reasoning, and their fleshly heates growing of ease, the first idle wooings, and their songs made to their mates or paramours either vpon sorrow or iolity of courage, the first amorous musicks, sometime also they sang and played on their pipes for wagers, striuing who
CHAP. XIX.
Of historicall Poesie, by which the famous acts of Princes and the vertuous and worthy liues of our forefathers were reported.
There is nothing in man of all the potential parts of his mind (reason and will except) more noble or more necessary to the actiue life then memory: because it maketh most to a sound iudgement and perfect worldly wisedome, examining and comparing the times past with the present, and by them both considering the time to come, concludeth with a stedfast resolution, what is the best course to be taken in all his actions and aduices in this world: it came vpon this reason, experience to be so highly commended in all consultations of importance, and preferred before any learning or science, and yet experience is no more than a masse of memories assembled, that is, such trials as man hath made in time before. Right so no kinde of argument in all the Oratorie craft, doth better perswade and more vniuersally satisfie then example, which is but the representation of old memories, and like successes happened in times past. For these regards the Poesie historicall is of all other next the diuine most honorable and worthy, as well for the common benefit as for the speciall comfort
CHAP. XX.
In what forme of Poesie vertue in the inferiour sort was commended.
In euerie degree and sort of men vertue is commendable, but not egally: not onely because mens estates are vnegall, but for that also vertue it selfe is not in euery respect of egall value and estimation. For continence in a king is of greater merit, than in a carter, th’one hauing all opportunities to allure him to lusts, and abilitie to serue his appetites, th’other partly, for the basenesse of his estate wanting such meanes and occasions, partly by dread of lawes more inhibited, and not so vehemently caried away with vnbridled affections, and therefore deserue not in th’one and th’other like praise nor equall reward, by the very ordinarie course of distributiue iustice. Euen so parsimonie and illiberalitie are greater vices in a Prince then in a priuate person, and pusillanimitie and iniustice likewise: for to th’one, fortune hath supplied inough to maintaine them in the contrarie vertues, I meane, fortitude, iustice, liberalitie, and magnanimitie: the Prince hauing all plentie to vse largesse by, and no want or neede to driue him to do wrong. Also all the aides that may be to lift vp his courage, and to make him stout and fearelesse (augent animos fortunae) saith the Mimist, and very truly, for nothing pulleth downe a mans heart so much as aduersitie and lacke. Againe in a meane man prodigalitie and pride are faultes more reprehensible then in Princes, whose high estates do require in their countenance, speech & expense, a certaine extraordinary, and their functions enforce them sometime to exceede the limites of mediocritie not excusable in a priuat person, whose manner of life and calling hath no such exigence. Besides the good and bad of Princes is more exemplarie, and thereby of greater moment then the priuate persons. Therefore it is that the inferiour persons, with their inferiour vertues haue a certaine inferiour praise, to guerdon their good with, & to comfort them to continue a laudable course in the modest and honest life and behauiour. But this lyeth not in written laudes so much as in ordinary reward and commendation to be giuen them by the mouth of the superiour magistrate. For histories were not intended to so generall and base a purpose, albeit many a meane souldier & other obscure persons were spoken of and made famous in stories, as we finde of Irus the begger, and Thersites the glorious noddie, whom Homer maketh mention of. But that happened (& so did many like memories of meane men) by reason of some greater personage or matter that it was long of, which therefore could not be an vniuersall case nor chaunce to euery other good and vertuous person of the meaner sort. Wherefore the Poet in praising the maner of life or death of anie meane person, did it by some litle dittie or Epigram or Epitaph in fewe verses & meane stile conformable to his subiect. So haue you how the immortall gods were praised by hymnes, the great Princes and heroicke personages by ballades of praise called Encomia, both of them by historicall reports of great grauitie and maiestie, the inferiour persons by other slight poemes.
CHAP. XXI.
The forme wherein honest and profitable Artes and sciences were treated.
The profitable sciences were no lesse meete to be imported to the greater number of ciuill men for instruction of the people and increase of knowledge, then to be reserued and kept for clerkes and great men onely. So as next vnto the things historicall such doctrines and arts as the common wealth fared the better by, were esteemed and allowed. And the same were treated by Poets in verse Exameter fauouring the Heroicall, and for the grauitie and comelinesse of the meetre most vsed with the Greekes and Latines to sad purposes. Such were the Philosophicall works of Lucretius Carus among the Romaines, the Astronomicall of Aratus and Manilius, one Greeke th’other Latine, the Medicinall of Nicander, and that of Oprianus of hunting and fishes, and many moe that were too long to recite in this place.
CHAP. XXII.
In what forme of Poesie the amorous affections and allurements were vttered.
The first founder of all good affections is honest loue, as the mother of all the vicious is hatred. It was not therefore without reason that so commendable, yea honourable a thing as loue well meant, were it in Princely estate or priuate, might in all ciuil common wealths be vttered in good forme and order as other laudable things are. And because loue is of all other humane affections the most puissant and passionate, and most generall to all sortes and ages of men and women, so as whether it be of the yong or old or wise or holy, or high estate or low, none euer could truly bragge of any exemption in that case: it requireth a forme of Poesie variable, inconstant, affected, curious and most witty of any others, whereof the ioyes were to be vttered in one sorte, the sorrowes in an other, and by the many formes of Poesie, the many moodes and pangs of louers, throughly to be discouered: the poore soules sometimes praying, beseeching, sometime honouring, auancing, praising: an other while railing, reuiling, and cursing: then sorrowing, weeping, lamenting: in the ende laughing, reioysing & solacing the beloued againe, with a thousand delicate deuises, odes, songs, elegies, ballads, sonets and other ditties, moouing one way and another to great compassion.
CHAP. XXIII.
The forme of Poeticall reioysings.
Pleasure is the chiefe parte of mans felicity in this world, and also (as our Theologians say) in the world to come. Therefore while we may (yea alwaies if it could be) to reioyce and take our pleasures in vertuous and honest sort, it is not only allowable, but also necessary and very naturall to man. And many be the ioyes and consolations of the hart: but none greater, than such as he may vtter and discouer by some conuenient meanes: euen as to suppresse and hide a mans mirth, and not to haue therein a partaker,
CHAP. XXIIII.
The forme of Poeticall lamentations.
Lamenting is altogether contrary to reioising, euery man saith so, and yet is it a peece of ioy to be able to lament with ease, and freely to poure forth a mans inward sorrowes and the greefs wherewith his minde is surcharged. This was a very necessary deuise of the Poet and a fine, besides his poetrie to play also the Phisitian, and not onely by applying a medicine to the ordinary sicknes of mankind, but by making the very greef it selfe (in part) cure of the disease. Nowe are the causes of mans sorrowes many: the death of his parents, friends, allies, and children: (though many of the barbarous nations do reioyce at
CHAP. XXV.
Of the solemne reioysings at the natiuitie of Princes children.
To returne from sorrow to reioysing it is a very good hap and no vnwise part for him that can do it, I say therefore, that the comfort of issue and procreation of children is so naturall and so great, not onely to all men but specially to Princes, as duetie and ciuilitie haue made it a common custome to reioyse at the birth of their noble children, and to keepe those dayes hallowed and festiuall for euer once in the yeare, during the parentes or childrens liues: and that by publique order & consent. Of which reioysings and mirthes the Poet ministred the first occasion honorable, by presenting of ioyfull songs and ballades, praysing the parentes by proofe, the child by hope, the whole kinred by report, & the day it selfe with wishes of all good successe, long life, health & prosperitie for euer to the new borne. These poems were called in Greeke Genethaca, with vs they may be called natall or birth songs.
CHAP. XXVI.
The maner of reioysings at mariages and weddings.
As the consolation of children well begotten is great, no lesse but rather greater ought to be that which is occasion of children, that is honorable matrimonie, a loue by al lawes allowed, not mutable nor encombred with such vaine cares & passions, as that other loue, whereof there is no assurance, but loose and fickle affection occasioned for the most part by sodaine sights and acquaintance of no long triall or experience, nor vpon any other good ground wherein any suretie may be conceiued: wherefore the Ciuill Poet could
CHAP. XXVII.
The manner of Poesie by which they uttered their bitter taunts, and priuy nips, or witty scoffes and other merry conceits.
Bvt all the world could not keepe, nor any ciuill
ordinance to the contrary so preuaile, but that men
would and must needs vtter their splenes in all ordinarie
matters also: or else it seemed their bowels
would burst, therefore the poet deuised a prety fashioned
poeme short and sweete (as we are wont to say) and
called it Epigramma in which euery mery conceited
man might without any long studie or tedious ambage,
make his frend sport, and anger his foe, and giue
a prettie nip, or shew a sharpe conceit in few verses:
for this Epigramme is but an inscription or
writting made as it were vpon a table, or in a windowe,
or vpon the wall or mantel of a chimney in some place
of common resort, where it was allowed euery man might
come, or be sitting to chat and prate, as now in our
tauernes and common tabling houses, where many merry
heades meete, and scrible with ynke with chalke, or
with a cole such matters as they would euery man should
know, & descant vpon. Afterward the same came
to be put in paper and in bookes, and vsed as ordinarie
missiues, some of frendship, some of defiaunce, or
as other messages of mirth: Martiall was
the cheife of this skil among the Latines, & at ahese
days the best Epigrames we finde, & of the sharpest
conceit are those that haue bene gathered among the
reliques of the two muet Satyres in Rome, Pasquill
and Marphorir, which in time of Sede vacante,
when merry conceited men listed to gibe & iest at
the dead Pope, or any of his Cardinales, they fastened
them vpon those Images which now lie in the open streets,
and were tollerated, but after that terme expired
they were inhibited againe. These inscriptions
or Epigrammes at their beginning had no certaine author
that would auouch them, some for feare of blame, if
they were ouer saucy or sharpe, others for modestie
of the writer as was that disticke of Virgil
which he set vpon the pallace gate of the emperour
Augustus, which I will recite for the breifnes
and quicknes of it, & also for another euente that
fell out vpon the matter worthy to be remembred.
These were the verses.
Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula
mane
Diuisum imperium cum Ioue Caesar habet.
Which I haue thus Englished,
It raines all night, early the shewes
returne
God and Caesar, do raigne and rule by
turne.
As much to say, God sheweth his power by the night raines. Caesar his magnificence by the pompes of the day.
These two verses were very well liked, and brought
to th’Emperours Maiestie, who tooke great pleasure
in them, & willed the author should be knowen.
A sausie courtier profered him selfe to be the man,
and had a good reward giuen him: for the Emperour
him self was not only learned, but of much munificence
toward all learned men: whereupon Virgill
seing him self by his ouermuch modestie defrauded
of the reward, that an impudent had gotten by abuse
of his merit, came the next night, and fastened vpon
the same place this halfe metre, foure times iterated.
Thus.
Sic vos non vobis
Sic vos non vobis
Sic vos non vobis
Sic vos non vobis
And there it remained a great while because no man
wist what it meant, till Virgill opened the
whole fraude by this deuise. He wrote aboue the
same halfe metres this whole verse Exameter.
Hos ego versiculos feci tulit alter
honores.
And then finished the foure half metres, thus.
Sic vos non vobis Fertis aratra
boues
Sic vos non vobis Vellera fertis
oues
Sic vos non vobis Mellificatis apes
Sic vos non vobis Indificatis aues.
And put to his name Publius Virgilius Maro. This matter came by and by to Th’emperours eare, who taking great pleasure in the deuise called for Virgill, and gaue him not onely a present reward, with a good allowance of dyet a bonche in court as we vse to call it: but also held him for euer after vpon larger triall he had made of his learning and vertue in so great reputation, as he vouchsafed to giue him the name of a frend (amicus) which among the Romanes was so great an honour and speciall fauour, as all such persons were allowed to the Emperours table, or to the Senatours who had receiued them (as frendes) and they were the only men that came ordinarily to their boords, & solaced with them in their chambers, and gardins when none other could be admitted.
CHAP. XXVIII.
Of the poeme called Epitaph used for memoriall of the dead.
An Epitaph is but a kind of Epigram only applied to the report of the dead persons estate and degree, or of his other good or bad partes, to his commendation or reproch: and is an inscription such as a man may commodiously write or engraue vpon a tombe in few verses, pithie, quicke and sententious for the passer by to peruse, and iudge vpon without any long tariaunce: So as if it exceede the measure of an Epigram, it is then (if the verse be correspondent) rather an Elegie then an Epitaph which errour many of these bastard rimers commit, because they be not learned, nor (as we are wont to say) their catftes masters, for they make long and tedious discourses, and write them in large tables to be hanged vp in Churches and chauncells ouer the tombes of great men
CHAP. XXIX.
A certaine auncient forme of poesie by which men did vse to reproch their enemies.
As frendes be a rich a ioyfull possession, so be foes a continuall torment and canker to the minde of man, and yet there is no possible meane to auoide this inconuenience, for the best of vs all, & he that thinketh he liues most blamelesse, liues not without enemies, that enuy him for his good parts, or hate him for his euill. There be wise men, and of them the great learned man Plutarch that tooke vpon them to perswade the benefite that men receiue by their enemies, which though it may be true in manner of Paradoxe, yet I finde mans frailtie to be naturally such, and always hath beene, that he cannot conceiue it in his owne case, nor shew that patience and moderation in such greifs, as becommeth the man perfite and accomplisht in all vertue: but either in deede or by word, he will seeke reuenge against them that malice him, or practise his harmes, specially such foes as oppose themselues to a mans loues. This made the auncient Poetes to inuent a meane to rid the gall of all such Vindicatiue men: so as they might be a wrecked of their wrong, & neuer bely their enemie with slaunderous vntruthes. And this was done by a maner of imprecation, or as we call it by cursing and banning of the parties, and wishing all euill to a light vpon them, and though it neuer the sooner happened, yet was it great easment to the boiling stomacke: They were called Dirae, such as Virgill made aginst Battarus, and Ouide against Ibis: we Christians are forbidden to vse such vncharitable fashions, and willed to referre all our reuenges to God alone.
CHAP. XXX.
Of short Epigrames called Posies.
There be also other like Epigrammes that were sent vsually for new yeares giftes or to be Printed or put vpon their banketting dishes of suger plate, or of march paines, & such other dainty meates as by the curtesie & custome euery gest might carry from a common feast home with him to his owne house, & were made for the nonce, they were called Nenia or apophoreta, and neuer contained aboue one verse, or two at the most, but the shorter the better, we call them Posies, and do paint them now a dayes vpon the backe sides
CHAP. XXXI.
Who in any age haue bene the most commended writers in our English Poesie, and the Authors censure giuen upon them.
It appeareth by sundry records of bookes both printed & written, that many of our countreymen haue painfully trauelled in this part: of whose works some appeare to be but bare translations, other some matters of their owne inuention and very commendable, whereof some recitall shall be made in this place, to th’intent chiefly that their names should not be defrauded of such honour as seemeth due to them for hauing by their thankefull studies so much beautified our English tong (as at this day) it will be found our nation is in nothing inferiour to the French or Italian for copie of language, subtiltie of deuice, good method and proportion in any forme of poeme, but that they may compare with the most, and perchance passe a great many of them. And I will not reach aboue the time of king Edward the third, and Richard the second for any that wrote in English meeter: because before their times by reason of the late Normane conquest, which had brought into this Realme much alteration both of our langage and lawes, and there withall a certain martiall barbarousnes, whereby the study of all good learning was so much decayd, as long time after no man or very few entended to write in any laudable science: so as beyond that time
THE SECOND BOOKE,
OF PROPORTION POETICAL.
CHAP. I.
Of Proportion Poeticall.
It is said by such as professe the Mathematicall sciences, that all things stand by proportion, and that without it nothing could stand to be good or beautiful. The Doctors of our Theologie to the same effect, but in other termes, say: that God made the world by number, measure and weight: some for weight say tune; and peraduenture better. For weight is a kind of measure or of much conueniencie with it: and therefore in their descriptions be alwayes coupled together (statica & metrica) weight and measures. Hereupon it seemeth the Philosopher gathers a triple proportion, to wit, the Arithmeticall, the Geometricall, and the Musical. And by one of these three is euery other proportion guided of the things that haue conueniencie by relation, as the visible by light colour and shadow: the audible by stirres, times and accents: the odorable by smelles of sundry temperaments: the tastible by sauours to the rate: the tangible by his obiectes in this or that regard. Of all which we leaue to speake, returning to our poeticall proportion, which holdeth of the Musical, because as we sayd before
CHAP. II.
Of proportion in Staffe.
Staffe in our vulgare Poesie I know not why it should be so called, unless it be for that we vnderstand it for a bearer or supporter of a song or ballad, not vnlike the old weake bodie, that is stayed vp by his staffe, and were not otherwise able to walke or to stand vpright. The Italian called it Stanza, as if we should say a resting place: and if we consider well the forme of this Poeticall staffe, we shall finde it to be a certaine number of verses allowed to go altogether and ioyne without any intermission, and doe or should finish vp all the sentences of the same with a full period, vnlesse it be in som special cases, & there to stay till another staffe follow of like sort: and the shortest staffe conteineth not vnder foure verses, nor the longest aboue ten, if it passe that number it is rather a whole ditty then properly a staffe. Also for the more part the staues stand rather vpon the euen nomber of verses then the odde, though there be of both sorts. The first proportion then of a staffe is by quadrien or foure verses. The second of fiue verses, and is seldome vsed. The third by sizeine or sixe verses, and is not only most vsual, but also very pleasant to th’eare. The fourth is in seven verses, & is the chiefe of our ancient proportions vsed by any rimer writing any thing of historical or graue poeme, as ye may see in Chaucer and Lidgate th’one writing the loues of Troylus and Cresseida, th’other of the fall of Princes: both by them translated not deuised. The first proportion is of eight verses very stately and Heroicke, and which I like better then that of seuen, because it receaueth better band. The fixt is of nine verses, rare but very graue. The seuenth proportion is of tenne verses, very stately, but in many mens opinion too long: neuerthelesse of very good grace & much grauitie. Of eleuen and twelue I find none ordinary staues vsed in any vulgar language, neither doth it serue well to continue any historicall report or ballade, or other song: but is a dittie of it self, and no staffe, yet some moderne writers haue vsed it but very seldome. Then last of all haue ye a proportion to be vsed in the number of your staues, as to a caroll and a ballade, to a song, & a round, or virelay. For to an historicall poeme no certain number is limited, but as the matter fals out: also a distick or couple of verses is not to be accompted a staffe, but serues for a continuance as we see in Elegie, Epitaph, Epigramme or such meetres, of plaine concord not harmonically entertangled, as some other songs of more delicate musick be.
A staffe of foure verses containeth in it selfe matter sufficient to make a full periode or complement of sence, though it doe not alwayes so, and therefore may go by diuisions.
A staffe of fiue verses, is not much vsed because he that can not comprehend his periode in foure verses, will rather driue it into six then leaue it in fiue, for that the euen number is more agreeable to the eare then the odde is.
A staffe of sixe verses, is very pleasant to the eare, and also serueth for a greater complement then the inferiour staues, which maketh him more commonly to be vsed.
A staffe of seuen verses, most vsuall with our auncient makers, also the staffe of eight, nine and ten of larger complement then the rest, are onely vsed by the later makers, & vnlesse they go with very good bande, do not so well as the inferiour staues. Therefore if ye make your staffe of eight, by two fowers not entertangled, it is not a huitaine or a staffe of eight, but two quadreins, so is it in ten verses, not being entertangled they be but two staues of fiue.
CHAP. III.
Of proportion in measure.
Meeter and measure is all one, for what the Greekes call [Greek: metron], the Latines call Mensura, and is but the quantitie of a verse, either long or short. This quantitie with them consisteth in the number of their feete: & with vs in the number of sillables, which are comprehended in euery verse, not regarding his feete, otherwise then that we allow in scanning our verse, two sillables to make one short portion (suppose it a foote) in euery verse. And after that sort ye may say, we haue feete in our vulgare rymes, but that is improperly: for a foote by his sence naturall is a member of office and function, and serueth to three purposes, that is to say, to go, to runne, & to stand still so as he must be sometimes swift, sometimes slow, sometime vnegally marching or peraduenture steddy. And if our feete Poeticall want these qualities it can not be sayd a foote in sence translatiue as here. And this commeth to passe, by reason of the euident motion and stirre, which is perceiued in the sounding of our wordes not alwayes egall: for some aske longer, some shorter time to be vttered in, & so by the Philosophers definition, stirre is the true measure of time. The Greekes & Latines because their wordes hapned to be of many sillables, and very few of one sillable, it fell out right with them to conceiue and also to perceiue, a notable diuersitie of motion and times in the pronuntiation of their wordes, and therefore to euery bissillable they allowed two times, & to a trissillable three times, & to euery polisillable more, according to his quantitie, & their times were some long, some short according as their motions were slow or swift. For the sound of some sillable stayd the eare a great while, and others slid away so quickly, as if they had not bene pronounced, then euery sillable
CHAP. III.
How many sorts of measures we use in our vulgar.
To returne from rime to our measure againe, it hath bene sayd that according to the number of the sillables contained in euery verse, the same is sayd a long or short meeter, and his shortest proportion is of foure sillables, and his longest of twelue, they that vse it aboue, passe the bounds of good proportion. And euery meeter may be aswel in the odde as in the euen sillable, but better in the euen, and one verse may begin in the euen, & another follow in the odde, and so keepe a commendable proportion. The verse that containeth but two silables which may be in one word, is not vsuall: therefore many do deny him to be a verse, saying that it is but a foot, and that a meeter can haue no lesse then two feete at the least, but I find it otherwise aswell among the best Italian Poets, as also with our vulgar makers, and that two sillables serue wel for a short measure in the first place, and midle, and end of a staffe: and also in diuerse scituations and by sundry distances, and is very passionate and of good grace, as shalbe declared more at large in the Chapter of proportion by scituation.
The next measure is of two feete or of foure sillables,
and then one word tetrasillable diuided in
the middest makes vp the whole meeter, as thus
Re-ue- re-ntli-e
Or a trissillable and one monosillable thus. Soueraine
God, or two bissillables and that is plesant thus,
Restore againe, or with foure monosillables,
and that is best of all thus, When I doe thinke,
I finde no fauour in a meetre of three sillables nor
in effect in any odde, but they may be vsed for varietie
sake, and specially being enterlaced with others the
meetre of six sillables is very sweete and dilicate
as thus.
O God when I behold
This bright heauen so hye
By thine owne hands of old
Contrivd so cunningly.
The meter of seuen sillables is not vsual, no more
is that of nine and eleuen, yet if they be well composed,
that is, their Cesure well appointed, and their
last accent which makes the concord, they are commendable
inough, as in this ditty where one verse is of eight
an other is of seuen, and in the one the accent vpon
the last, in the other vpon the last saue on.
The smoakie sighes, the bitter teares
That I in vaine haue wasted
The broken sleepes, the woe and feares
That long time haue lasted
Will be my death, all by thy guilt
And not by my deseruing
Since so inconstantly thou wilt
Not loue but still be sweruing.
And all the reason why these meeters in all sillable are allowable is, for that the sharpe accent falles vpon the penulitma or last saue one sillable of the verse, which doth so drowne the last, as he seemeth to passe away in maner vnpronounced, & so make the verse seeme euen: but if the accent fall vpon the last and leaue two flat to finish the verse, it will not feeme so: for the odnes will more notoriously appeare, as for example in the last verse before recited Not loue but still be sweruing, say thus Loue it is a maruelous thing. Both verses be of egall quantitie, vidz. seauen sillables a peece, and yet the first seemes shorter then the later, who shewes a more odnesse then the former by reason of his sharpe accent which is vpon the last sillable, and makes him more audible then if he had slid away with a flat accent, as the word sweruing.
Your ordinarie rimers vse very much their measures
in the odde as nine and
eleuen, and the sharpe accent vpon the last sillable,
which therefore
makes him go ill fauouredly and like a minstrels musicke.
Thus sayd one in
a meeter of eleven very harshly in mine eare, whether
it be for lacke of
good rime or of good reason, or of both I wot not.
Now sucke childe and sleepe childe,
thy mothers owne ioy
Her only sweete comfort, to drowne all
annoy
For beauty surpassing the azured skie
I loue thee my darling, as ball of mine
eye.
This sort of compotition in the odde I like not, vnlesse it be holpen by the Cesure or by the accent as I sayd before.
The meeter of eight is no lesse pleasant then that
of sixe, and the Cesure fals iust in the middle,
as this of the Earle of Surreyes.
When raging loue, with extreme payne.
The meeter of ten sillables is very stately and Heroicall,
and must haue his Cesure fall vpon the fourth
sillable, and leaue sixe behind him thus.
I serue at ease, and gouerne all with
woe.
This meeter of twelue sillables the French man calleth
a verse Alexandrine, and is with our moderne
rimers most usuall: with the auncient makers
it was not so. For before Sir Thomas Wiats
time they were not vsed in our vulgar, they be for
graue and stately matters fitter than for any other
ditty of pleasure. Some makers write in verses
of foureteene sillables giuing the Cesure at
the first eight, which proportion is tedious, for
the length of the verse kepeth the eare too long from
his delight, which is to heare the cadence or the tuneable
accent in the ende of the verse. Neuerthelesse
that of twelue if his Cesure be iust in the
middle, and that ye suffer him to runne at full length,
and do not as the common rimers do; or their Printer
for sparing of paper, cut them of in the middest,
wherin they make in two verses but halfe rime.
They do very wel as wrote the Earle of Surrey translating
the booke of the preacher.
Salomon Davids sonne, king of Ierusalem.
This verse is a very good Alexandrine, but
perchaunce woulde haue sounded more musically, if
the first word had bene a dissillable, or two monosillables
and not a trissillable: hauing his sharpe accent
vppon the Antepenultima as it hath, by which
occasion it runnes like a Dactill, and carries
the two later sillables away so speedily as it seemes
but one foote in our vulgar measure, and by that meanes
makes the verse seeme but of eleuen sillables, which
odnesse is nothing pleasant to the eare. Iudge
some body whether it would haue done better (if it
might) haue bene fayd thus,
Roboham Dauids sonne, king of Ierusalem.
Letting the sharpe accent fall vpon bo, or
thus
Restore king Dauids sonne vnto Ierusalem.
For now the sharpe accent falles vpon bo, and
so doth it vpon the last in restore, which
was not in th’other verse. But because we
haue seemed to make mention of Cesure, and
to appoint his place in euery measure, it shall not
be amisse to say somewhat more of it, & also of such
pauses as are vsed in vtterance, & what commoditie
or delectation they bring either to the speakers or
to the hearers.
CHAP. IIII.
Of Cesure.
There is no greater difference betwixt a ciuill and brutish vtteraunce then cleare distinction of voices: and the most laudable languages are alwaies most plaine and distinct, and the barbarous most confuse and indistinct: it is therefore requisit that leasure be taken in pronuntiation, such as may make our wordes plaine & most audible and agreable to the eare: also the breath asketh to be now and then releeued with some pause or stay more or lesse: besides that the very nature of speach (because it goeth by clauses of seuerall construction & sence) requireth some space betwixt them with intermission of sound, to th’end they may not huddle one vpon another so rudly & so fast that th’eare may not perceiue their difference.
CHAP. V.
Of Proportion in Concord, called Symphonie or rime.
Because we vse the word rime (though by maner of abusion) yet to helpe that fault againe we apply it in our vulgar Poesie another way very commendably & curiously. For wanting the currantnesse of the Greeke and Latine feete, in stead thereof we make in th’ends of our verses a certaine tunable sound: which anon after with another verse reasonably distant we accord together in the last fall or cadence: the eare taking pleasure to heare the like tune reported, and to feele hie returne. And for this purpose serue the monosillables of our English Saxons excellently well, because they do naturally and indifferently receiue any accent, & in them if they finish the verse, resteth the shrill accent of necessitie, and so doth it not in the last of euery bissillable, nor of euery polisillable word: but to the
CHAP. VI.
Of accent, time and stir perceiued euidently in the distinction of mans voice, and which makes the flowing of a meeter.
Nowe because we haue spoken of accent, time and stirre or motion in wordes, we will set you downe more at large what they be. The auncient Greekes and Latines by reason their speech fell out originally to be fashioned with words of many syllables for the most part, it was of necessity that they could not vtter euery sillable with one like and egall sounde, nor in like space of time, nor with like motion or agility: but that one must be more suddenly and quickely forsaken, or longer pawsed vpon then another: or sounded with a higher note & clearer voyce then another, and of necessitie this diuersitie of sound, must fall either vpon the last sillable, or vpon the last saue one, or vpon the third and could not reach higher to make any notable difference; it caused them
CHAP. VII.
Of your Cadences by which your meeter is made Symphonicall when they be sweetest and most solemne in a verse.
As the smoothenesse of your words and sillables running vpon feete of sundrie qualities, make with the Greekes and Latines the body of their verses numerous or Rithmicall, so in our vulgar Poesie, and of all other nations at this day, your verses answering eche other by couples, or at larger distances in good [cadence] is it that maketh your meeter symphonicall. This cadence is the fal of a verse in euery last word with a certaine tunable sound which being matched with another of like sound, do make a [concord.] And the whole cadence is contained sometime in one sillable, sometime in two, or in three at the most: for aboue the antepenultima there reacheth no accent (which is chiefe cause of the cadence) vnlesse it be vsurpation in some English words, to which we giue a sharpe accent vpon the fourth as, Honorable, matrimonie, patrimonie, miserable, and such other
CHAP. VIII
How the good maker will not wrench his word to helpe his rime, either by falsifying his accent, or by untrue orthographie.
Now there can not be in a maker a fowler fault then to falsifie his accent to serue his cadence, or by vntrue orthographie to wrench his words to helpe his rime, for it is a signe that such a maker is not copious in his owne language, or (as they are wont to say) not halfe his crafts maister: as for example, if one should rime to this word [Restore] he may not match him with [Doore] or [Poore] for neither of both are of like terminant, either by good orthography or in naturall sound, therfore such rime is strained, so is it to this word [Ram] to say [came] or to [Beane [Den_] for they sound not nor be written alike, & many other like cadences which were superfluous to recite, and are vsuall with rude rimers who obserue not precisely the rules of [prosodie] neuerthelesse in all such cases (if necessitie constrained) it is somewhat more tolerable to help the rime by false orthographie, than to leaue an unpleasant dissonance to the eare, by keeping trewe orthographie and loosing the rime, as for example it is better to rime [Dore] with [Restore] then in his truer orthographie, which is [Doore] and to this word [Desire] to say [Fier] then fyre though it be otherwise
Finally as ye may ryme with wordes of all sortes, be they of many sillables or few, so neuerthelesse is there a choise by which to make your cadence (before remembred) most commendable, for some wordes of exceeding great length, which haue bene fetched from the Latine inkhome or borrowed of strangers, the vse of them in ryme is nothing pleasant, sauing perchaunce to the common people, who reioyce much to be at playes and enterludes, and besides their naturall ignoraunce, haue at all such times their eares so attentiue to the matter, and their eyes vpon the shewes of the stage, that they take little heede to the cunning of the rime, and therefore be as well satisfied with that which is grosse, as with any other finer and more delicate.
Chap. IX.
Of Concorde in long and short measures, and by neare or farre distaunces, and which of them is most commendable.
But this ye must obserue withall, that bycause your concords containe the chief part of Musicke in your meetre, their distaunces may not be too wide or farre asunder, lest th’eare should loose the tune, and be defrauded of his delight, and whensoeuer ye see any maker vse large and extraordinary distaunces, ye must thinke he doth intende to shew himselfe more artificiall then popular, and yet therein is not to be discommended, for respects that shalbe remembred in some other place of this booke.
Note also that rime or concorde is not commendably vsed both in the end and middle of a verse, vnlesse it be in toyes and trifling Poesies, for it sheweth a certaine lightnesse either of the matter or of the makers head, albeit these common rimers vse it much, for as I sayd before, like as the Symphonie in a versse of great length, is (as it were) lost by looking after him, and yet may the meetre be very graue and stately: so on the other side doth the ouer busie and too speedy returne of one maner of tune, too much annoy & as it were glut the eare, vnlesse it be in small & popular Musickes song by thesse Cantabanqui vpon benches and barrels heads where they haue none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes that passse by them in the streete, or else by blind harpers or such like tauerne minstrels that giue a fit of mirth for a groat, & their matters being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes of Beuis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough & such other old Romances or historicall rimes, made purposely for recreation of the common people at Christmasse diners & brideales, and in tauernes & alehouses and such other places of base resort, also they be vsed in Carols and rounds and such light or lasciuious Poemes, which are commonly more commodiously vttered by these buffons or vices in playes then by any other person. Such were the rimes of Skelton (vsurping the name of a Poet Laureat) being in deede but a rude rayling rimer & all his doings ridiculous, he vsed both short distaunces and short measures pleasing onely the popular eare: in our courtly maker we banish them vtterly. Now also haue ye in euery song or ditty concorde by compasse & concorde entertangled and a mixt of both, what that is and how they be vsed shalbe declared in the chapter of proportion by scituation.
CHAP. X
Of proportion by situation.
This proportion consisteth in placing of euery verse in a staffe or ditty by such reasonable distaunces, as may best serue the eare for delight, and also to shew the Poets art and variety of Musick, and the proportion is double. One by marshalling the meetres, and limiting their distaunces hauing regard to the rime or concorde how they go and returne: another by placing euery verse, hauing a regard to his measure and quantitie onely, and not to his concorde as to set one short meetre to three long, or foure short and two long, or a short measure and a long, or of diuers lengthes with relation one to another, which maner of Situation, euen without respect of the rime, doth alter the nature of the Poesie, and make it either lighter or grauer, or more merry, or mournfull, and many wayes passionate to the eare and hart of the hearer, seeming for this point that our maker by his measures and concordes of sundry proprotions doth counterfait the harmonicall tunes of the vocall
[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line
one connected to line three
and line two connected to line four.]
Scituation in Concord ---------- \
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/ )
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/
Scituation in Measure ------ ------------ ------- --------- -------- ------------ --------- ------ --------- --------- -------- ------------ ------- ------ ------ ------------ ------------ ------ ------
Where ye see the concord or rime in the third distance, and the measure in the fourth, sixth or second distaunces, where of ye may deuise as many others as ye list, so the staffe be able to beare it. And I set you downe an occular example: because ye may the better conceiue it. Likewise it so falleth out most times your ocular proportion doeth declare the nature of the audible: for if it please the eare well, the fame represented by delineation to the view pleaseth the eye well and e conuerso: and this is by a naturall simpathie, betweene the eare and the eye, and betweene tunes & colours euen as there is the like betweene the other sences and their obiects of which it apperteineth not here to speake. Now for the distances vsually obserued in our vulgar Poesie, they be in the first second third and fourth verse, or if the verse be very short in the fift and sixt and in some maner of Musickes farre aboue.
And the first distance for the most part goeth all by distick or couples of verses agreeing in one cadence, and do passe so speedily away away and so often returne agayne, as their tunes are neuer lost, nor out of the eare, one couple supplying another so nye and so suddenly, and this is the most vulgar proportion of distance or situation, such as vsed Chaucer in his Canterbury tales, and Gower in all his workes.
[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line two and line three connected to line four.]
Second distance is, when ye passe ouer one verse, and ioyne the first and the third, and so continue on till an other like distance fall in, and this is also usuall and common, as
[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line three and line two connected to line four.]
Third distauce is, when your rime falleth vpon the first and fourth verse ouerleaping two; this manner is not so common but pleasant and allowable inough.
[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line four and line two connected to line three.]
In which case the two verses ye leaue out are ready to receiue their concordes by the same distaunce or any other ye like better.
The fourth distaunce is by ouerskipping three verses and lighting vpon the fift, this manner is rare and more artificiall then popular, vnlesse it be in some special case, as when the meetres be so little and short as they make no shew of any great delay before they returne, ye shall haue example of both.
[Illustration: two diagrams: the first of five lines with line 1 connected to line 5 and lines 2, 3, and 4 connected; the second of ten lines with line 1 and 5 connected, lines 2 and 6 connected, lines 3 and 7 connected, lines 4 and 8 connected, lines 5 and 9 connected, and lines 8 and 10 connected.]
And these ten litle meeters make but one Decameter at length.
—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,
There be larger distances also, as when the first concord falleth upon the sixt verse & is very pleasant if they be ioyned with other distances not so large as
[Illustration: diagram of six lines with lines 1 and 6 connected, line 2 and 5 connected, and lines 3 and 4 connected.]
There be also, of the seuenth, eight, tenth, and twefth distance, but then they may not go thicke, but two or three such distances serue to proportion a whole song, and all betweene must be of other lesse distances, and these wide distaunces serue for coupling of slaues, or for to declare high and passionate or graue matter, and also for art: Petrarch hath giuen us examples hereof in his Canzoni, and we by lines of sundry lengths & and distances as followeth,
[Illustration: four diagrams: first of eight lines with lines 1 and 8 connected, 2 and 3 connected, 4 and 5 connected, and 6 and 7 connected; second of ten lines with lines 1 and 10 connected, 2 and 4 connected, 3 and 5 connected, 5 and 7 connected, 6 and 8 connected and 7 and 9 connected; third of twelve lines with lines 1 and 12 connected, 2 and 5 connected, 3 and 4 connected, and 6 and 9 connected, 7 and 8 connected, 9 and 12 connected, 10 and 11 connected; fourth of thirteen lines with 1 and 13 connected, 2 and 5 connected, 3 and 4 connected, 6 and 9 connected, 7 and 8 connected, 10 and 13 connected, and 11 and 12 connected.]
And all that can be obiected against this wide distance is to say that the eare by loosing his concord is not satisfied. So is in deede the rude and popular eare but not the learned, and therefore the Poet must know to whose eare he maketh his rime, and accommodate himselfe thereto, and not giue such musicke to the rude and barbarous, as he would to the learned and delicate eare.
There is another sort of proportion used by Petrarche
called the
Seizino, not riming as other songs do, but
by chusing sixe wordes out of
which all the whole dittie is made, euery of those
sixe commencing and
ending his verse by course, which restraint to make
the dittie sensible
will try the makers cunning, as thus.
--------------- )
( --------------- )
( --------------- )
( --------------- )
( --------------- )
( ---------------
Besides all this there is in Situation of the concords two other points, one that it go by plaine and cleere compasse not intangled: another by enterweauing one with another by knots, or as it were by band, which is more or lesse busie and curious, all as the maker will double or redouble his rime or concords, and set his distances farre or nigh, of all which I will giue you ocular examples, as thus.
[Illustration: two diagrams: Concord in Plaine compasse, has four lines with 1 and 4 connected and 2 and 3 connected; Concord in Entertangle, has alternating lines connected — 1 and 3, 2 and 4, 3 and 5, etc.]
And first in a Quadreine there are but two proportions, for foure verses in this last sort coupled, are but two Disticks, and not a staffe quadreine or of foure.
[Illustration: three diagrams of four lines each: first, with lines 1 and 4 connected and lines 2 and 3 connected; second, with lines 1 and 3 connected and lines 2 and 4 connected; third, with lines 1 and 2 connected and lines 3 and 4 connected.]
The staffe of fiue hath seuen proportions, whereof some of them be harsher and vnpleasaunter to the eare then other some be.
[Illustration: seven diagrams of five lines each: first, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 3 with 5; second, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 4, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; third, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 2, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; fourth, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 4, 2 with 3, 4 with 5; fifth, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 5, 2 with 3, 3 with 4; sixth, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 4 with 5; seventh, connecting these pairs of lines — 1 with 2, 2 with 4, 3 with 5.]
The Sixaine or staffe of sixe hath ten proportions, whereof some be vsuall, some not vsuall, and not so sweet one as another.
[Illustration: ten diagrams of six lines each: first, connecting these lines — 1 with 6, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; second, connecting these lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 5 with 6; third, connecting these lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 6, 3 with 4 and 5; fourth, connecting these lines — 1 with 4, 2 with 5, 3 with 6; fifth, connecting these lines — 1 with 6, 2 with 4, 3 with 5; sixth, connecting these lines — 1 with 6, 2 with 3, 4 with 5; seventh, connecting these lines — 1 with 5, 2 with 6, 3 with 4; eighth, connecting these lines — 1 with 2, 5 and 6, 3 with 4; ninth, connecting these lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 5, 4 with 6; tenth, connecting these lines — 1 with 2 and 4, 3 with 5 and 6.]
The staffe of seuen verses hath seuen proportions, whereof one onley is the vsuall of our vulgar, and kept by our old Poets Chaucer and other in their historicall reports and other ditties: as in the last part of them that follow next.
[Illustration: eight diagrams of seven lines each: first, connecting these lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 4 with 6, 5 with 7; second, connecting these lines — 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 3 with 5, 6 with 7; third, connecting these lines — 1 with 4, 2 with 3, 4 with 7, 5 with 6; fourth, connecting these lines — 1 with 2, 6 and 7, 3 with 4 and 5; fifth, connecting these lines — 1 with 7, 2 with 6, 3 with 4 and 5; sixth, connecting these lines — 1 with 2, 5 and 6, 3 with 4 and 7; seventh, connecting these lines — 1 with 4 and 7, 2 with 3, 5 and 6; eighth, connecting these lines — 1 with 2, 3 with 4 and 5, 6 with 7.]
The huitain or staffe of eight verses, hath eight proportions such as the former staffe, and is because he is longer, he hath one more then the sestaine.
The staffe of nine verses hath yet moe then the eight, and the staffe of ten more then the ninth and the twelfth, if such were allowable in ditties, more then any of them all, by reason of his largenesse receiuing moe compasses and enterweauings, alwayes considered that the very large distances be more artificiall, then popularly pleasant, and yet do giue great grace and grauitie, and moue passion and affections more vehemently, as it is well to be obserued by Petrarcha his Canzoni.
Now ye may perceiue by these proportions before described, that there is a band to be giuen euery verse in a staffe, so as none fall out alone or vncoupled, and this band maketh that the staffe is sayd fast and not loose: euen as ye see in buildings of stone or bricke the mason giueth a band, that is a length to two breadths, & vpon necessitie diuers other sorts of bands to hold in the worke fast and maintaine the perpendicularitie of the wall: so in any staffe of seuen or eight or more verses, the coupling of the moe meeters by rime or concord, is the faster band: the fewer the looser band, and therefore in a huiteine he that putteth foure verses in one concord and foure in another concord, and in a dizaine fiue, sheweth him selfe more cunning, and also more copious in his owne language. For he that can find two words of concord, can not find foure or fiue or sixe, vnlesse he haue his owne language at will. Sometimes also ye are driuen of neccesitie to close and make band more then ye would, lest otherwise the staffe should fall asunder and seeme two staues: and this is in a staffe of eight and ten verses: whereas without a band in the middle, it would seeme two quadriens or two quintaines, which is an error that many makers slide away with. Yet Chaucer and others in the staffe of seuen and sixe do almost as much a misse, for they shut vp the staffe with a disticke, concording with
------- ---------- ---------- ------ --------- ---------- ---------- -------------- ------------- ---------- ---- ---------- -------------- ------------- -------- ---- ---------- -------------- --------- ------ ---------- ---- ------ ------- ------ ---------- ------ -------------- --------- -------- ---- ------ -------------- ----------- ---------- ---- ------ -------------- ------------- ---------- ---- ------
Which maner or proportion by situation of measures giueth more efficacie to the matter oftentimes then the concords them selues, and both proportions concurring together as they needes must, it is of much more beautie and force to the hearers mind.
To finish the learning of this diuision, I will set you downe one example of a dittie written extempore with this deuice, shewing not onley much promptnesse of wit in the maker, but also great arte and a notable memorie. Make me saith this writer to one of the comnpanie, so many strokes or lines with your pen as ye would haue your song containe verses: and let euery line bearue his seuerall length, euen as ye would haue your verse of measure. Suppose of foure, fiue, sixe, or eight or more sillables, and set a figure of euerie number at th’end of the line, whereby ye may knowe his measure. Then where you will haue your rime or concord to fall, marke it with a compast stroke or semicircle passing ouer those lines, be they farre or neare in distance, as ye haue seene before described. And bycause ye shall not thinke the maker hath premeditated beforehand any such fashioned ditty, do ye your selfe make one verse whether it be of perfect or imperfect sense, and giue it him for a theame to make all the rest upon: if ye shall perceiue the maker do keepe the measures and rime as ye haue appointed him, and besides do make his dittie sensible and ensuant to the first verse in good reason, then may ye say he is his crafts maister. For if he were not of a plentiful discourse, he could not vpon the sudden shape an entire dittie vpon your imperfect theame or proposition in one verse. And if he were not copious in his language, he could not haue such store of wordes at commaundement, as should supply your concords. And if he were not of a maruelous good memory he could not obserue the rime and measures after the distances of your limitation, keeping with all grauitie and good sense in the whole dittie.
CHAP. XI.
Of Proportion in figure.
Your last proportion is that of figure, so called for that it yelds an ocular representation, your meeters being by good symmetrie reduced into certaine Geometricall figures, whereby the maker is restrained to keepe him within his bounds, and sheweth not onley more art, but serueth also much better for briefenesse and subtiltie of deuice. And for the same respect are also fittest for the pretie amourets in Court to entertaine their seruants and the time withall, their delicate wits requiring some commendable exercise to keepe them from idlenesse. I find not of this proportion, vsed by any of the Greeke or Latine Poets, or in any vulgar writer, sauing of that one forme which they cal Anacreens egge. But being in Italie conuersant with a certaine gentleman, who had long trauailed the Orientall parts of the world, and seene the Courts of the great Princes of China and Tartarie. I being very inquisitiue to know of the subtillities of those countreyes, and especially in matter of learning and of their vulgar Poesie, he told me that they are in all their inuentions most wittie, and haue the vse of Poesie or riming, but do not delight so much as we do in long tedious descriptions, and therefore when they will vtter any pretie conceit, they reduce it into metricall feet, and put it in forme of a Lozange or square, or such other figure, and so engrauen in gold, siluer, or iuorie, and sometimes with letters of ametist, rubie, emeralde or topas curiousely cemented and peeced together, they sende them in chaines, bracelets, collars and girdles to their mistresses to weare for a remembrance. Some fewe measures composed in this sort this gentleman gaue me, which I translated word for word and as neere as I could followed both the phrase and the figure, which is somewhat hard to performe, because of the restraint of the figure from which ye may not digresse. At the beginning they wil seeme nothing pleasant to an English eare, but time and vsage will make them acceptable inough, as it doth in all other new guises, be it for wearing of apparell or otherwise. The formes of your Geometricall figures be hereunder represented.
[Illustration: labelled diagrams of lines of
different lengths (forming
different shapes):
The Lozange, called Rombus (diamond)
The Fuzie or spindle, called Romboides (narrow diamond)
The Triangle or Tricquet (pyramid)
The Square or quadrangle (square)
The Pillaster or Cillinder (tall rectangle)
The Spire or taper, called piramis (tall pyramid)
The Rondel or Sphere (circle)
The egge or figure ouall (vertical egg)
The Tricquet reuerst (triangle)
The Tricquet displayed (hour-glass)
The Taper reuersed (narrow triangle)
The Rondel displayed (half circle upon the other half)
The Lozange reuersed (wide diamond <>)
u
The Egge displayed (half oval upon the other half
— n)
The Lozange rabbated (hexagon).]
Of the Lozange.
The Lozange is a most beautifull figure, & fit for this purpose, being in his kind a quadrangle reuerst, with his point vpward like to a quarrell of glasse the Greekes and Latines both call it Rombus which may be the cause as I suppose why they also gaue that name to the fish commonly called the Turbot, who beareth iustly that figure, it ought not to containe about thirteene or fifteene or one & twentie meetres, & the longest furnisheth the middle angle, the rest passe vpward and downward, still abating their lengthes by one or two sillables till they come to the point: the Fuzie is of the same nature but that he is sharper and slenderer. I will giue you an example of two of those which my Italian friend bestowed vpon me, which as neare as I could I trnslated into the same figure obseruing the phrase of the Orientall speach word for word.
A great Emperor in Tartary whom they cal Can,
for his good fortune
in the wars & many notable conquests he had made,
was surnamed
Temir Cutzclewe, this man loued the Lady Kermesine,
who
presented him returning from the conquest of Corasoon
(a great kindgom
adioyning) with this Lozange made in letters
of rubies & diamants
entermingled thus:
Sound
O
Harpe
Shril
lie out
Temir
the stout
Rider
who with sharpe
Trenching
slide of brite steele
Hath made
his feircest foes so feele
All such as wrought
him shame or harme
The strength of
his braue right arme,
Cleauing
hard downe vnto the eyes
The
raw skulles of his enemies
Much
honour hath he wonne
By
doughtie deedes done
In
Cora soon
And
all the
Worlde
Round.
To which Can Temir answered in Fuzie, with letters of Emeralds and Ametists artificially cut and entermingled, thus
Five
Sore batailes
Manfully fought
In blouddy fielde
With bright blade in hand
Hath Temir won & forst to yeld
Many a Captaine strong and stoute
And many a king his Crowne to vayle,
Conquering large countreys and land,
Yet ne uer wanne I vic to rie
I speake it to my greate glorie
So deare and ioy full vn to me,
As when I did first con quere thee
O Kerme sine, of all myne foes
The most cruell, of all myne woes
The smartest , the sweetest
My proude con quest
My ri chest pray
O once a daye
Lend me thy sight
Whose only light
Keepes me
Alive.
Of the Triange or Triquet.
The triangle is an halfe square, Lozange or Fuzie parted vpon the crosse angles: and so his base being brode and his top narrow it receaueth meetres of many sizes one shorter then another: and ye may vse this figure standing or reuersed, as thus.
A certaine great Sultan of Persia called Ribuska, entertaynes in loue the Lady Selamour, sent her this triquet reuest pitiously bemoaning his estate, all set in merquetry with letters of blew Saphire and Topas artificially cut and entermingled.
Selamour dearer then his
owne life
To thy di stresssed wretch cap tive,
Ri buska whome late ly erst
Most cru el ly thou perst
With thy dead ly dart,
That paire of starres
Shi ning a farre
Turne from me, to me
That I may & may not see
The smile, the loure
That lead and driue
Me to die to liue
Twise yea thrise
In one
hourre.
To which Selamour to make the match egall,
and the figure entire,
answered in a standing Triquet richly engrauen with
letters of like
stuffe.
Power
Of
death
Nor
of life
Hath
Selamour,
With
Gods it is rife
To
giue and bereue breath
I
may for pitie perchaunce
Thy
lost libertie re — store,
Vpon thine
othe with this penaunce,
That while thou liuest thou neuer
loue no more.
This condition seeming to Sultan Ribuska very hard to performe, and cruell to be enjoyned him, doeth by another figure a Taper, signifying hope, answere the Lady Selamour, which dittie for lack of time I translated not.
Of the Spire or Taper called Pyramis.
The Taper is the longest and sharpest triangle that is, & while he mounts vpward he waxeth continually more slender, taking both his figure and name of the fire, whole flame if ye marke it, is alwaies pointed, and naturally by his forme couets to clymbe: the Greekes call him Pyramis. The Latines in vse of Architecture call him Obeliscus, it holdeth the altitude of six ordinary triangles, and in metrifying his base can not well be larger then a meetre of six, therefore in his altitude he will require diuers rabates to hold so many sizes of meetres as shall serue for his composition, for neare the toppe there wil be roome little inough for a meetre of two sillables, and sometimes of one to finish the point. I haue set you downe one or two examples to try how ye can disgest the maner of the deuise.
Her Maiestie, for many parts in
her most noble and vertuous nature
to be found, resembled to the spire. Ye must
begin beneath according
to the nature of the deuice.
Skie, 1 ----- A zurd 2 in the assurde. -------- And better, 3 And richer, Much greter, -------------- Crowne & empir After an hier For to aspire 4 Like flames of fire In formes of spire ------------------- To mount on hie, Con ti nu al ly With trauel & teenPage 63
Most gratious queen Ye haue made a vow 5 Shewes vs plainly how Not fained but true To euery mans vue Shining cleere in you Of so bright an hewe Euen thus vertwe --------------------- Vanish out of our sight Till his fine top be quite To taper in the ayre 6 Endeavors soft and faire By his kindly nature Of tall comely stature Like as this faire figure
From God the fountaine of all good, are deriued into the world all good things: and vpon her maiestie all the good fortunes any worldly creature can be furnisht with. Reade downward according to the nature of the deuice.
1 God
On
Hie
Frome
2 A bove
Sends loue,
Wise dome,
Iu stice
Cou rage,
Boun tie,
3 And doth geue
All that liue
Life & breath
Harts ese helth
Children, welth
Beauty strength
Restfull age,
And at length
A mild death,
4 He doeth bestowe
All mens fortunes
Both high & low
And the best things
That earth can haue
Or mankind craue,
Good queens & kings
Fi nally is the same
Who gaue you (madam)
Seyson of this Crowne
With pouer soueraigne
5 Impug nable right,
Redoubt able might,
Most prosperous raigne
Eternall re nowne,
And that your chiefest is
Sure hope of heavens blis.
The Piller, Pillaster or Cillinder.
The Piller is a figure among all the rest of the Geometricall most beawtifull, in respect that he is tall and vpright and of one bignesse from the bottom to the toppe. In Architecture he is considered with two accessarie parts, a pedestall or base, and a chapter or head, the body is the shaft. By this figure is signified stay, support, rest, state and magnificence, your dittie then being reduced into the forme of a Piller, his base will require to beare the breath of a meetre of six or seuen or eight sillables: the shaft of foure: the chapter egall with the base, of this proportion I will giue you one or two examples which may suffise.
Her Maiestie resembled to the crowned piller, Ye must read vpward.
Is blisse with immortalitie.
Her trymest top of all ye see,
Garnish the crowne.
Her iust renowne
Chapter and
head,
Parts that maintain
And woman
head
Her mayden
raigne
In te gri
tie:
In ho nour
and
with ve ri
tie:
Her roundnes
stand
Strengthen the
state.
By their increase
With out de
bate
Concord and
peace
Of her sup
port,
They be the
base
with stedfastnesse
Vertue and
grace
Stay and comfort
Of Albi ons
rest,
The sounde
Pillar
And seene a
farre
Is plainely exprest
Tall stately and strayt
By this no ble pour trayt
Philo to the Lady Calia, sendeth this
Odolet of her prayse
in forme of a Piller, which ye must read
downward.
Thy princely port and Maijestie
Is my ter rene dei
tie,
Thy
wit and sense
The
streame & source
Of
e l o quence
And
deepe discours,
Thy
faire eyes are
My
bright load starre,
Thy
speach a darte
Percing
my harte,
Thy
face a las,
My
loo king glasse,
Thy
loue ly lookes
My
prayer bookes,
Thy
pleasant cheare
My
sunshine cleare
Thy
ru full sight
My
darke midnight,
Thy
will the stent
Of
my con tent,
Thy
glo rye flour
Of
myne ho nour,
Thy
loue doth giue
The
lyfe I lyve,
Thy
lyfe it is
Mine
earthly blisse:
But grace & fauour in thine eies
My bodies soule & souls paradise.
The Roundell or Spheare.
The most excellent of all the figures Geometrical is the round for his many perfections. First because he is euen & smooth, without any angle, or interruption, most voluble and apt to turne, and to continue motion, which is the author of life: he conteyneth in him the commodious description of euery other figure, & for his ample capacitie doth resemble the world or uniuers, & for his indefiniteness hauing no speciall place of beginning nor end, beareth a similitude with God and eternitie. This figure hath three principall partes in his nature and vse much considerable: the circle, the beame, and the center. The circle is his largest compasse or circumference: the center is his middle and indiuisible point: the beame is a line stretching directly from the circle to the center, & contrariwise from the center to the circle. By this description our maker may fashion his meetre in Roundel, either with the circumference, and that is circlewise, or from the circumference, that is, like a beame, or by the circumference, and that is ouerthwart and dyametrally from one side of the circle to the other.
A generall resemblance of the Roundell to God, the world and the Queene.
All and whole, and euer, and one, Single, simple, eche where, alone, These be counted as Clerkes can tell, True properties, of the Roundell. His still turning by consequence And change, doe breede both life and sense. Time, measure of stirre and rest. Is also by his course exprest. How swift the circle stirre aboue, His center point, doeth neuer moue: All things that euer were or be, Are closde in his concauitie. And though he be, still turnde and tost, No roome there wants nor none is lost. The Roundell hath no bonch or angle, Which may his course stay or entangle. The furthest part of all his spheare,Page 65
Is equally both farre and neare. So doth none other figure fare Where natures chattels closed are: And beyond his wide compasse, There is no body nor no place, Nor any wit that comprehends, Where it begins, or where it ends: And therefore all men doe agree, That it purports eternitie. God aboue the heauens so hie Is this Roundell, in world the skie, Vpon earth she, who beares the bell Of maydes and Queenes, is this Roundell: All and whole and euer alone, Single, sans peere, simple, and one.
A speciall and particular resemblance of her Maiestie to the Roundell.
First her authoritie regall Is the circle compassing all: The dominion great and large Which God hath geuen to her charge: Whithin which most spatious bound She enuirons her people round, Retaining them by oth and liegeance. Whithin the pale of true obeysance: Holding imparked as it were, Her people like to heards of deere. Sitting among them in the middes Where foe allowes and bannes and bids In what fashion she list and when, The seruices of all her men. Out of her breast as from an eye, Issue the rayes incessantly Of her iustice, bountie and might Spreading abroad their beams so bright And reflect not, till they attaine The fardest part of her domaine. And makes eche subiect clearley see, What he is bounden for to be To God his Prince and common wealth, His neighbour, kinred and to himselfe. The same centre and middle pricke, Whereto our deedes are drest so thicke, From all the parts and outmost side Of her Monarchie large and wide, Also fro whence reflect these rayes, Twentie hundred maner of wayes Where her will is them to conuey Within the circle of her suruey. So is the Queene of Briton ground, Beame, circle, center of all my round.
_ Of the square or quadrangle equilater._
The square is of all other accompted the figure of most folliditie and stedfastnesse, and for his owne stay and firmitie requireth none other base then himselfe, and therefore as the roundell or Spheare is appropriat to the heauens, the Spire to the element of the fire: the Triangle to the ayre, and the Lozange to the water: so is the square for his inconcussable steadinesse likened to the earth, which perchaunce might be the reason that the Prince of Philosophers in his first booke of the Ethicks, termeth a constant minded man, euen egal and direct on all sides, and not easily ouerthrowne by euery little aduersitie, hominem quadratum, a square man. Into this figure may ye reduce your ditties by vsing no moe verses then your verse is of sillables, which will make him fall out square, if ye go aboue it wil grow into the figure Trapezion, which is some portion longer then square. I neede not giue you any example, by cause in good arte all your ditties, Odes & Epigrammes should keepe & not exceede the nomber of twelue verses, and the longest verse to be of twelue sillables & not aboue, but vnder that number as much as ye will.
The figure Ouall.
This figure taketh his name of an egge, and also as it is thought his first origine, and is as it were a bastard or imperfect rounde declining toward a longitude, and yet keeping within one line for his periferie or compasse as the rounde, and it seemeth that he receiueth this forme not as an imperfection but any impediment vnnaturally hindring his rotunditie, but by the wisedome and prouidence of nature for the commoditie of generation in such of her creatures as bring not forth a liuely body (as do foure footed beasts) but in stead thereof a certaine quantitie of shapelesse matter contained in a vessell, which after it is sequestred from the dames body receiueth life and perfection, as in the egges of birdes, fishes, and serpents: for the matter being of some quantitie, and to issue out at a narrow place, for the easie passage thereof, it must of necessitie beare such shape as might not be sharpe and greeuous to passe at an angle, nor so large or obtuse as might not essay some issue out with one part moe then other as the rounde, therefore it must be slenderer in some part, & yet not without a rotunditie & smoothnesse to giue the rest an easie deliuerie. Such is the figure Ouall whom for his antiquitie, dignitie and vse, I place among the rest of the figures to embellish our proportions: of this sort are diuers of Anacreons ditties, and those other of the Grecian Liricks, who wrate wanton amorous deuises, to solace their witts with all, and many times they would (to giue it right shape of an egg) deuide a word in the midst, and peece out the next verse with the other halfe, as ye may see by perusing their meetres.
When I wrate of these deuices, I smiled with myselfe, thinking that the readers would do so to, and many of them say, that such trifles as these might well haue bene spared, considering the world is full inough of them, and that it is pitie mens heades should be fedde with such vanities as are to none edification nor instruction, either of morall vertue, or otherwise behooffull for the common wealth, to whose seruice (say they) we are all borne, and not to fill and replenish a whole world full of idle toyes. To which sort of reprehendours, being either all holy and mortified to the world, and therefore esteeming nothing that fauoureth not of Theologie, or altogether graue and worldy, and therefore caring for nothing but matters of pollicie, & discourses of estate, or all giuen to thrift and passing for none art that is not gainefull and lucratiue, as the sciences of the Law, Phisicke and marchaundise: to these I will giue none other aunswere then referre them to the many trifling poemes of Homer, Ouid, Virgill, Catullus and other notable writers of former ages, which were not of any grauitie or seriousnesse, and many of them full of impudicitie and ribaudrie, as are not these of ours, nor for any good in the world should haue bene: and yet those trifles are come from many former siecles
Now passing from these courtly trifles, let vs talke of our scholastical toyes, that is of the Grammaticall versifying of the Greeks and Latines and see whether it might be reduced into our English arte or no.
CHAP. XII.
How if all maner of sodaine innouatians were not very scandalous, specially in the lawes of any langage or arte, the use of the Greeke and Latine feete might be brought into our vulgar Poesie, and with good grace enough.
Now neuerthelesse albeit we haue before alledged that our vulgar Saxon English standing most vpon wordes monosillable, and little vpon polysillables doth hardly admit the vse of those fine inuented feete of the Greeks & Latines, and that for the most part wise and graue men doe naturally mislike with all sodaine innouations specially of lawes (and this the law of our auncient English Poesie) and therefore lately before we imputed it to a nice & scholasticall curiositie in such makers as haue fought to bring into our vulgar Poesie some of the auncient feete, to wit the Dactile into verses exameters, as he that translated certaine bookes of Virgils Eneydos in such measures & not vncommendably: if I should now say otherwise it would make me seeme contradictorie to my selfe, yet for the information of our yong makers, and pleasure of all others who be delighted in noueltie, and to th’intent we may not seeme by ignorance or ouersight to omit any point of subtillitie, materiall or necessarie to our vulgar arte, we will in this present chapter & by our own idle obseruations shew how one may easily and commodiously lead all those feete of the auncients into our vulgar language. And if mens eares were not perchaunce to daintie, or their iudgementes ouer partiall, would peraduenture nothing at all misbecome our arte, but make in our meetres a more pleasant numerositie then now is.
Therefore whensoeuer your words will not make a smooth dactil, ye must alter them or their situations or else turne them to other feete that may better beare their maner of sound and orthographie: or if the word be polysillable to deuide him, and to make him serue by peeces, that he could not do whole and entierly. And no doubt by like consideration did the Greeke & Latine versifiers fashion all their feete at the first to be of sundry times, and the selfe same sillable to be sometime long and sometime short for the eares better satisfaction as hath bene before remembred. Now also wheras I said before that our old Saxon English for his many monosillables did not naturally admit the vse of the ancient feete in our vulgar measures so aptly as in those languages which stood most vpon polisillables, I sayd it in a sort truly, but now I must recant and confesse that our Normane English which hath growen since William the Conquerour doth admit any of the auncient feete, by reason of the many polysillables euen to sixe and seauen in one word, which we at this day vse in our most ordinarie language: and which corruption hath bene occasioned chiefly by the peeuish affectation not of the Normans them selues, but of clerks and scholars or secretaries long since, who not content with the vsual Normane or Saxon word, would conuert the very Latine and Greeke word into vulgar French, as to say innumerable for innombrable, reuocable, irreuocable, irradiation, depopulation & such like, which are not naturall Normane nor yet French, but altered Latines, and without any imitation at all: which therefore were long time despised for inkehorne termes, and now be reputed the best & most delicat of any other. Of which & many other causes of corruption of our speach we haue in another place more amply discoursed, but by this meane we may at this day very well receiue the auncient feete metricall of the Greeks and Latines sauing those that be superfluous as be all the feete aboue the trissillable, which the old Grammarians idly inuented and distinguisht by speciall names, whereas in deede the same do stand compounded with the inferiour feete, and therefore some of them were called by the names of didactilus, dispondeus, and disiambus: which feete as I say we may be allowed to vse with good discretion & precise choise of wordes and with the fauorable approbation of readers, and so shall our plat in this one point be larger and much surmount that which Stamhurst
Neither truely doe I see any other reason in that lawe (though in other rules of shortning and prolonging a sillable there may be reason) but that it stands vpon bare tradition. Such as the Cabalists auouch in their mysticall constructions Theologicall and others, saying that they receaued the same from hand to hand from the first parent Adam, Abraham and others, which I will giue them leaue alone both to say and beleeue for me, thinking rather that they haue bene the idle occupations, or perchaunce the malitious and craftie constructions of the Talmudists and others of the Hebrue clerks to bring the world into admiration of their lawes and Religion. Now peraduenture with vs Englishmen it be somewhat too late to admit a new inuention of feet and times that our forefathers neuer vused nor neuer observed till this day, either in their measures or in their pronuntiation, and perchaunce will seeme in vs a presumptuous part to attempt, considering also it would be hard to find many men to like of one mans choise in the limitation of times and quantities of words, with which not one, but euery eare is to be pleased and made a particular iudge, being most truly sayd, that a multitude or comminaltie is hard to please and easie to offend, and therefore I intend not to proceed any further in this curiositie then to shew some small subtillitie that any other hath not yet done, and not by imitation but by obseruation, nor to th’intent to haue it put in execution in our vulgar Poesie, but to be pleasantly scanned vpon, as are all nouelties so friuolous and ridiculous as it.
CHAP. XIII.
A more particular declaration of the metricall feete of the ancient Poets Greeke and Latine and chiefly of the feete of two times.
Their Grammarians made a great multitude of feete, I wot not to what huge number, and of so many sizes as their wordes were of length, namely sixe sizes, whereas indeede, the metricall feete are but twelve in number, wherof foure only be of two times, and eight of three times, the rest compounds of the premised two sorts, even as the Arithmeticall numbers aboue three are made of two and three. And if ye will know how many of these feete will be commodiously received with vs, I say all the whole twelve, for first for the foote, spondeus of two long times ye haue these English words mo-rni-ng, mi-dni-ght, mi-scha-unce, and a number moe whose ortographie may direct your iudgement in this point: for your Trocheus of a long and short ye haue these words ma-ne`r, bro-ke`n, ta-ke`n, bo-die`, me-mbe`r, and a great many moe if there last sillables abut not vpon the consonant in the beginning of another word, and in these whether they do abut or no wi-tti`e, di-tti`e, so-rro`w, mo-rro`w, & such like, which end in a vowell for your Iambus of a short and a long, ye haue these words [re`sto-re] [re`mo-rse] [de`si-re] [e`ndu-re] and a thousand
And some verses where the sharpe accent falles vpon
the first and third,
and so make the verse wholly Trochaicke, as
thus,
Worke not, no nor, with thy friend
or foes harme
Try but, trust not, all that speake thee
so faire.
And some verses made of monosillables and bissillables
enterlaced as
this of th’Earles,
When raging loue with extreme paine
And this
A fairer beast of fresher hue beheld
I neuer none.
And some verses made all of bissillables and
others all of
trissillables, and others of polisillables
egally increasing and of
diuers quantities, and sundry situations, as in this
of our owne, made to
daunt the insolence of a beautifull woman.
Brittle beauty blossome daily fading
Morne, noone, and eue in age and eke in
eld
Dangerous disdaine full pleasantly perswading
Easie to gripe but combrous to weld.
For slender bottome hard and heauy lading
Gay for a while, but little while durable
Suspicious, incertaine, irreuocable,
O since thou art by triall not to trust
Wisedome it is, and it is also iust
To sound the stemme before the tree be
feld
That is, since death will driue us all
to dust
To leaue thy loue ere that we be compeld.
In which ye haue your first verse all of bissillables and of the foot trocheus. The second all of monosillables, and all of the foote Iambus, the third all of trissillables, and all of the foote dactilus, your fourth of one bissillable, and two monosillables interlarded, the fift of one monosillable and two bissillables enterlaced, and the rest of other sortes and scituations, some by degrees encreasing, some diminishing: which example I haue set downe to let you perceiue what pleasant numerosity in the measure and disposition of your words in a meetre may be contriued by curious wits & these with other like were the obseruations of the Greeke and Latine versifiers.
CHAP. XIIII.
Of your feet of three times, and first of the Dactil.
Your feete of three times by prescription of the Latine
Grammariens are of eight sundry proportions, for some
notable difference appearing in euery sillable of
three falling in a word of that size: but because
aboue the antepenultima there was (among the
Latines) none accent audible in any long word, therfore
to deuise any foote of longer measure then of three
times was to them but superfluous: because all
aboue the number of three are but compounded of their
inferiours. Omitting therefore to speake of these
larger feete, we say that of all your feete of three
times the Dactill is most usuall and fit for
our vulgar meeter, & most agreeable to the eare, specially
if ye ouerlade not your verse with too many of them
but here and there enterlace a Iambus or some
other foote of two times to giue him grauitie and
stay, as in this quadrein Trimeter or of three
measures.
Rende`r a`gai-ne mi`e li-be`rti`e
a`nd se-t yo`ur ca-pti`ue fre-e
Glo-ri`ou`s i`s the` vi-cto`ri`e
Co-nque`ro`urs u-se wi`th le-ni`ti`e
Where ye see euery verse is all of a measure, and yet vnegall in number of sillables: for the second verse is but of sixe sillables, where the rest are of eight. But the reason is for that in three of the same verses are two Dactils a peece, which abridge two sillables in euery verse: and so maketh the longest euen with the shortest. Ye may note besides by the first verse, how much better some bisillable becommeth to peece out an other longer foote then another word doth: for in place of [render] if ye had sayd [restore] it had marred the Dactil, and of necessitie driuen him out at length to be a verse Iambic of foure feet, because [render] is naturally a Trocheus & makes the first two times of a dactil. [Restore]is naturally a Iambus, & in this place could not possibly haue made a pleasant dactil.
Now againe if ye will say to me that these two words
[libertie] and [conquerours] be not
precise Dactils by the Latine rule. So
much will I confesse to, but since they go currant
inough vpon the tongue and be so vsually pronounced,
they may passe wel inough for Dactils in our
vulgar meeters, & that is inough for me, seeking but
to fashion an art, & not to finish it: which
time only & custom haue authoritie to do, specially
in all cases of language as the Poet hath wittily
remembred in this verse
si
volet usus,
Quem penes arbitrium est & vis & norma
loquendi.
The Earle of Surrey upon the death of Sir Thomas
Wiat made among other this verse Pentameter
and of ten sillables,
What holy graue (alas) what sepulcher
But if I had had the making of him, he should haue
bene of eleuen sillables and kept his measure of fiue
still, and would so haue runne more pleasantly a great
deale; for as he is now, though he be euen he seemes
odde and defectiue, for not well obseruing the natural
accent of euery word, and this would haue bene soone
holpen by inserting one monosillable in the
middle of the verse, and drawing another sillable in
the beginning into a Dactil, this word [holy]
being a good [Pirrichius] & very well seruing
the turne, thus,
Wha-t ho`li`e gra-ue a`la-s wha`t fit
se`pu-lche`r.
Which verse if ye peruse throughout ye shall finde
him after the first dactil all Trochaick
& not Iambic, nor of any other foot of two
times. But perchance if ye would seeme yet more
curious, in place of these four Trocheus ye
might induce other feete of three times, as to make
the three sillables next following the dactil,
the foote [amphimacer] the last word [Sepulcher]
the foote [amphibracus] leauing the other midle
word for a [Iambus] thus.
Wha-t ho`li`e gra-ue a`la-s wha`t fit
se`pu-lche`r.
If ye aske me further why I make [what] first
And many moe which if ye would not allow for dactils
the verse would halt vnlesse ye would seeme to helpe
it contracting a sillable by vertue of the figure
Syneresis which I thinke was neuer their meaning,
nor in deede would haue bred any pleasure to the eare,
but hindred the flowing of the verse. Howsoeuer
ye take it the dactil is commendable inough
in our vulgar meetres, but most plausible of all when
he is sounded vpon the stage, as in these comicall
verses shewing how well it becommeth all noble men
and great personages to be temperat and modest, yea
more then any meaner man, thus.
Le-t no` no`bi-li`ti`e ri-che`s o`r
he-ri`ta`ge
Ho-no`r o`r e-mpi`re o`r ea-rthli`e do`mi-ni`o`n
Bre-ed I`n yo`ur hea-d a`ni`e pe-euish
o`pi-ni`o`n
That ye` ma`y sa-fe`r a`uo-uch a`ni`e
o-utra-ge.
And in this distique taxing the Prelate symoniake
standing all upon
perfect dactils.
No-w ma-ni-e bi-e mo-ne-y pu-rue`y
pro`mo-ti`o`n
For mony mooues any hart to deuotion.
But this aduertisement I will giue you withall, that if ye vse too many dactils together ye make your musike too light and of no solemne grauitie such as the amorous Elegies in court naturally require, being alwaies either very dolefull or passionate as the affections of loue enforce, in which busines ye must make your choice of very few words dactilique, or them that ye cannot refuse, to dissolue and breake them into other feete by such meanes as it shall be taught hereafter: but chiefly in your courtly ditties take heede ye vse not these maner of long polisillables and specially that ye finish not your verse them as [retribution] restitution] remuneration] recapitulation] and such like: for they smatch more the schoole of common players than of any delicate Poet Lyricke or Elegiacke.
CHAP. XV.
Of all your other feete of three times and how well they would fashion a meetre in our vulgar._
All your other feete of three times I find no vse of them in our vulgar meeters nor no sweetenes at all, and yet words inough to serue their proportions. So as though they haue not hitherto bene made artificiall, yet nowe by more curious obseruation they might be. Since all artes grew first by obseruation of natures proceedings and custome. And first your [Molossus] being of all three long is euidently discouered by this word [pe-rmi-tti-ng] The [Anapestus] of two short and a long by this word [fu`ri`o-us] if the next word beginne with a consonant. The foote [Bacchius] of a short and two long by this word [re`si-sta-nce] the foote [Antibachius] of two long and a short by this word [e-xa-mple`] the foote [Amphimacer] of a long a short & a long by this word [co-nque`ri-ng] the foote of [Amphibrachus] of a short a long and a short by this word [re`me-mbe`r] if a vowell follow. The foote [Tribrachus_] of three short times is very hard to be made by any of our trissillables vnles they be compounded of the smoothest sort of consonants or sillables vocals, or of three smooth monosillables, or of some peece of a long polysillable & after that sort we may with wresting of words shape the foot [Tribrachus] rather by vsurpation then by rule, which neuertheles is allowed in euery primitiue arte & inuention: & so it was by the Greekes and Latines in their first versifying, as if a rule should be set downe that from henceforth these words should be counted al Tribrachus [e`ne`mi`e] re`me`di`e] se`li`ne`s] mo`ni`le`s] pe`ni`le`s] cru`e`lli`e] & such like, or a peece of this long word [re`co-ue`ra`ble`] innu`me`ra`ble`] rea`di`li`e] and others. Of all which manner of apt wordes to make these stranger feet of three times which go not so currant with our eare as the dactil, the maker should haue a good iudgement to know them by their manner of orthographie and by their accent which serue most fitly for euery foote, or else he shoulde haue always a little calender of them apart to vse readily when he shall neede them. But because in very truth I thinke them but vaine & superstitious obseruations nothing at all furthering the pleasant melody of our English meeter, I leaue to speake any more of them and rather wish the continuance of our old maner of Poesie, scanning our verse by sillables rather than by feete, and vsing most commonly the word Iambique & sometime the Trochaike which ye shall discerne by their accents, and now and then a dactill keeping precisely our symphony or rime without any other mincing measures, which an idle inuentiue head could easily deuise, as the former examples teach.
CHAP. XVI.
Of your verses perfect and defectiue; and that which the Graecians called the halfe foote.
The Greekes and Latines vsed verses in the odde sillable
of two sortes, which they called Catalecticke
and Acatalecticke, that is odde vnder and odde
ouer the iust measure of their verse, & we in our vulgar
finde many of the like, and specially in the rimes
of Sir Thomas Wiat, strained perchaunce out of their
originall, made first by Francis Petrarcha:
as these
Like vnto these, immeasurable mountaines,
So is my painefull life the burden of
ire:
For hie be they, and hie is my desire
And I of teares, and they are full of
fountaines.
Where in your first second and fourth verse, ye may
find a sillable superfluous, and though in the first
ye will seeme to helpe it, by drawing these three
sillables,[i-m me` su`] into a dactil,
in the rest it can not be so excused, wherefore we
must thinke he did it of purpose, by the odde sillable
to giue greater grace to his meetre, and we finde in
our old rimes, this odde sillable, sometime placed
in the beginning and sometimes in the middle of a
verse, and is allowed to go alone & to hang to any
other sillable. But this odde sillable in our
meetres is not the halfe foote as the Greekes and
Latines vsed him in their verses, and called such
measure pentimimeris and eptamimeris,
but rather is that, which they called the catalectik
or maymed verse. Their hemimeris or halfe
foote serued not by licence Poeticall or necessitie
of words, but to bewtifie and exornate the verse by
placing one such halfe foote in the middle Cesure,
& one other in the end of the verse, as they vfed all
their pentameters elegiack: and not by
coupling them together, but by accompt to make their
verse of a iust measure and not defectiue or superflous:
our odde sillable is not altogether of that nature,
but is in a maner drownd and supprest by the flat
accent, and shrinks away as it were inaudible and
by that meane the odde verse comes almost to be an
euen in euery mans hearing. The halfe foote of
the auncients was reserued purposely to an vse, and
therefore they gaue such odde sillable, wheresoeuer
he fell the sharper accent, and made by him a notorious
pause as in this pentameter.
Ni-l mi` hi` re-scri-ba`s a-tta`me`n
i-pse` ve` ni`.
Which in all make fiue whole feete, or the verse Pentameter. We in our vulgar haue not the vse of the like halfe foote.
CHAP. XVII.
Of the breaking your bissillables and polysillables and when it is to be used.
Bvt whether ye suffer your sillable to receiue his
quantitie by his accent, or by his ortography, or
whether ye keepe your bissillable whole or
whether ye breake him, all is one to his quantitie,
and his time will appeare the selfe same still and
ought not to be altered by our makers, vnlesse it
be when such sillable is allowed to be common and to
receiue any of both times, as in the dimeter,
made of two sillables entier.
e-xtre-ame de`si-re
The first is a good spondeus, the second a
good iambus, and if the same wordes be broken
thus it is not so pleasant.
I`n e-x tre-ame de` sire
And yet the first makes a iambus, and the second
a trocheus ech sillable retayning still his
former quantities. And alwaies ye must haue regard
to the sweetenes of the meetre, so as if your word
polysillable would not sound pleasantly whole,
ye should for the nonce breake him, which ye may easily
doo by inserting here and there one monosillable
among your polysillables, or by changing your
word into another place then where he soundes vnpleasantly,
and by breaking, turne a trocheus to a iambus,
or contrariwise: as thus:
Ho-llo`w va-lle`is u-nde`r hi-e`st
mou-ntai`nes
Cra-ggi`e cli-ffes bri`ng foo-rth the`
fai-re`st fou-ntai`nes
These verses be trochaik, and in mine eare
not so sweete and harmonicall
as the iambicque, thus:
The` ho-llo`wst va-ls li`e u-nde`r
hi-e`st mo-unta-ines
The` cra-ggi`st clifs bri-ng fo-rth the`
fai-re`st fou-nta-ines.
All which verses bee now become iambicque by
breaking the first
bissillables, and yet alters not their quantities
though the feete be
altered: and thus,
Restlesse is the heart in his desires
Rauing after that reason doth denie.
Which being turned thus makes a new harmonie.
The restlesse heart, renues his old
desires
Ay rauing after that reason doth it deny.
And following this obseruation your meetres being
builded with polysillables will fall diuersly
out, that is some to be spondaick, some iambick,
others dactilick, others trochaick, and
of one mingled with another, as in this verse.
He-aui`e I-s the` bu-rde`n of Pri`nce`s
i-re
The verse is trochaick, but being altered thus,
is iambicque.
Fu`ll he-aui`e i-s the` pa-ise o`f
Pri-nce`s i-re
And as Sir Thomas Wiat song in a verse wholly
trochaick, because the
wordes do best shape to that foote by their naturall
accent, thus,
Fa-rewe`ll lo-ue a`nd a-ll thi`e la-wes
fo`r e-ve`r
And in this ditty of th’Erle of Surries, passing
sweete and harmonicall:
all be Iambick.
When raging loue with extreme paine
So cruell doth straine my hart,
And that the teares like fluds of raine
Beare witnesse of my wofull smart.
Which beyng disposed otherwise or not broken, would proue all trochaick, but nothing pleasant.
Now furthermore ye are to note, that al monosyllables
may receiue the sharp accent, but not so aptly one
as another, as in this verse where they serue well
to make him iambicque, but not trochaick.
Go`d grau-nt thi`s pea-ce ma`y lo-ng
e`ndu-re
Where the sharpe accent falles more tunably vpon [graunt]
[peace] [long]
[dure] then it would by conuersion, as to accent then
thus:
Go-d grau`nt — thi-s pea`ce —
ma-y lo`ng — e-ndu-re.
And yet if ye will aske me the reason I can not tell it, but that it shapes so to myne eare, and as I thinke to euery other mans. And in this meeter where ye haue whole words bissillable vnbroken, that maintaine (by reason of their accent) sundry feete, yet going one with another be very harmonicall.
Where ye see one to be a trocheus another the
iambus, and so entermingled not by election
but by constraint of their seuerall accents, which
ought not to be altred, yet comes it to passe that
many times ye must of necessitie alter the accent
of a sillable, and put him from his naturall place,
and then one sillable, of a word polysillable,
or one word monosillable, will abide to be
made sometimes long, sometimes short, as in this quadreyne
of ours playd in a mery moode.
Geue me mine owne and when I do desire
Geue others theirs, and nothing that is
mine
Nor giue me that, wherto all men aspire
Then neither gold, nor faire women nor
wine.
Where in your first verse these two words [giue]
and [me] are accented one high th’other
low, in the third verse the same words are accented
contrary, and the reason of this exchange is manifest,
because the maker playes with these two clauses of
sundry relations [giue me] and [giue others]
so as the monosillable [me] being respectiue
to the word [others] and inferring a subtilitie
or wittie implication, ought not to haue the same
accent, as when he hath no such respect, as in this
distik of ours.
Pro-ue me` (Madame) ere ye re-pro`ue
Meeke minds should e-xcu`se not a-ccu`se.
In which verse ye see this word [reprooue,]
the sillable [prooue] alters his sharpe accent
into a flat, for naturally it is long in all his singles
and compoundes [reprooue] [approoue]
[disprooue] & so is the sillable [cuse]
in [excuse] [accuse] [recuse]
yet in these verses by reason one of them doth as
it were nicke another, and haue a certaine extraordinary
sence with all, it behoueth to remoue the sharpe accents
from whence they are most naturall, to place them where
the nicke may be more expresly discouered, and therefore
in this verse where no such implication is, nor no
relation it is otherwise, as thus.
If ye re`pro-ue my constancie
I will excu-se you curtesly.
For in this word [reprooue] because there is
no extraordinary sence to be inferred, he keepeth
his sharpe accent vpon the sillable [prooue]
but in the former verses because they seeme to encounter
ech other, they do thereby merite an audible and pleasant
alteration of their accents in those sillables that
cause the subtiltie. Of these maner of nicetees
ye shal finde in many places of our booke, but specially
where we treate of ornament, vnto which we referre
you, sauing that we thought good to set down one example
more to solace your mindes with mirth after all these
scholasticall preceptes, which can not but bring with
them (specially to Courtiers) much tediousnesse, and
so to end. In our Comedie intituled Ginecocratia:
the king was supposed to be a person very amorous and
effeminate, and therefore most ruled his ordinary affaires
by the aduise of women either for the loue he bare
to their persons of liking he had to their pleasant
ready witts and vtterance. Comes me to the Court
one Polemon an honest plaine man of the country,
but rich: and hauing a suite to the king, met
by chaunce with one Philino, a louer of wine
and a merry companion in Court, and praied him in
that he was a stranger that he would vouchsafe to
tell him which way he were best to worke to get his
suite, and who were most in credit and fauour about
the king, that he might seek to them to furder his
attempt. Philino perceyuing the plainnesse
of the man, and that there would be some good done
with him, told Polemon that if he would well
consider him for his labor he would bring him where
he should know the truth of all his demaundes by the
sentence of the Oracle. Polemon gaue him twentie
crownes, Philino brings him into a place where
behind an arras cloth hee himselfe spake in manner
of an Oracle in these matters, for so did all the Sybils
and sothsaiers in old times giue their answers.
Your best way to worke — and
marke my words well,
Not money: nor many,
Nor any: but any,
Not weemen, but weemen beare the bell.
Polemon wist not what to make of this doubtfull speach, & not being lawfull to importune the oracle more then once in one matter, conceyued in his head the pleasanter construction, and stacke to it: and hauing at home a fayre yong damsell of eighteene yeares old to his daughter, that could very well behaue her self in countenance and also in her language, apparelled her as gay as he could, and brought her to the Court, where Philino harkning daily after the euent of this matter, met him, and recommended his daughter to the Lords, who perceiuing her great beauty and other good parts, brought her to the King, to whom she exhibited her fathers supplication, and found so great fauour in his eye, as without any long delay she obtained her sute at his hands. Poleman the diligent solliciting of his daughter, wanne his purpose: Philino gat a good reward and
FINIS.
THE THIRD BOOKE,
OF ORNAMENT.
CHAP. I.
Of Ornament Poeticall.
As no doubt the good proportion of any thing doth greatly adorne and commend it and right so our late remembred proportions doe to our vulgar Poesie: so is there yet requisite to the perfection of this arte, another maner of exornation, which resteth in the fashioning of our makers language and stile, to such purpose as it may delight and allure as well the mynde as the eare of the hearers with a certaine noueltie and strange maner of conueyance, disguising it no litle from the ordinary and accustomed: neuertheless making it nothing the more vnseemely or misbecomming, but rather decenter and more agreable to any ciuill eare and understanding. And as we see in these great Madames of honour, be they for personage or otherwise neuer so comely and bewtifull, yet if they want their courtly habillements or at leastwise such other apparell as custome and ciuilitie haue ordained to couer their naked bodies, would be halfe ashamed or greatly out of countenaunce to be seen in that sort, and perchance do then thinke themselves more amiable in euery mans eye, when they be in their richest attire, suppose of silkes or tyssews & costly embroderies, then when they go in cloth or in any other plaine and simple apparell. Euen so cannot our vulgar Poesie shew it self either gallant or gorgious, if any lymme be left naked and bare and not clad in his kindly clothes and coulours, such as may conuey them somewhat our of sight, that is from the common course of ordinary speach and capacitie of the vulgar iudgement, and yet being artificially handled must needes yeld it much more bewtie and commendation. This ornament we speake of is giuen to it by figures and figurative speaches, which be the flowers as it
CHAP. II.
How our writing and speaches publike ought to be figuratiue, and if they be not doe greatly disgrace the cause and purpose of the speaker and writer.
Bvt as it hath bene alwayes reputed a great fault to vse figuratiue speaches foolishly and indiscretly, so is it esteemed no lesse an imperfection in mans vtterance, to haue none vse of figure at all, specially in our writing and speaches publike, making them but as our ordinary talke, then which nothing can be more vnsauourie and farre from all ciuilitie. I remember in the first yeare of Queenes Maries raigne a Knight of Yorkshire was chosen speaker of the Parliament, a good gentleman and wise, in the affaires of his shire, and not vnlearned in the lawes of the Realme, but as well for some lack of his teeth, as for want of language nothing well spoken, which at that time and businesse was most behooffull for him to haue bene: this man after he had made his Oration to the Queene; which ye know is of course to be done at the first assembly of both houses; a bencher of the Temple both well learned and very eloquent, returning from the Parliament house asked another gentleman his frend how he liked M. Speakers Oration: mary quoth th’other, methinks I heard not a better alehouse tale told this seuen yeares. This happened because the good old Knight made no difference betweene an Oration or publike speach to be deliuered to the eare of a Princes Maiestie and state of a Realme, then he would haue done of an ordinary tale to be told at his table in the countrey, wherein all men know the oddes is very great. And though graue and wise counsellours in their consultations doe not vse much superfluous eloquence, and also in their iudicall hearings do much mislike all scholasticall rhetoricks:
CHAP. III.
How ornament Poeticall is of two sortes according to the double vertue and efficacie of figures.
This ornament then is of two sortes, one to satisfie & delight th’eare onely by a goodly outward shew fet vpon the matter with wordes, and speaches smothly and tunably running: another by certaine intendments or sence of such wordes & speeches inwardly working a stirre to the mynde: that first qualitie the Greeks called Enargia, of this word argos, because it geueth a glorious lustre and light. This latter they callled Energia of ergon, because it wrought with a strong and vertuous operation; and figure breedeth them both, some seruing to giue glosse onely to a language, some to geue it efficacie by sence, and so by that meanes some of them serue th’eare onely, some serue the conceit onely and not th’eare: there be of them also that serue both turnes as common seruitours appointed for th’one and th’other purpose, which shalbe hereafter spoken of in place: but because we haue alleaged before that ornament is but the good or rather bewtifull habite of language and stile and figuratiue speaches the instrument wherewith we burnish our language fashioning it to this or that measure and proportion, whence finally resulteth a long and continuall phrase or maner of writing or speach, which we call by the name of stile: we wil first speake of language; then of stile, lastly of figure, and declare their vertue and differences, and also their vse and best application, & what portion in exornation euery of them bringeth to the bewtifying of this Arte.
CHAP. IIII.
Of Language.
Speach is not naturall to man sauing for his onely habilitie to speake, and that he is by kinde apt to vtter all his conceits with sounds and voyces diuersified many maner of wayes, by meanes of the many & fit instruments he hath by nature to that purpose, as a broad and voluble tong, thinne and mouable lippes, teeth euen and not shagged; thick ranged, a round vaulted pallate, and a long throte, besides an excellent capacitie of wit that maketh him more disciplinable and imitative than any other creature: then as to the forme and action of his speach, it commeth to him by arte & teaching, and by vse or exercise. But after a speach is fully fashioned to the common vnderstanding, & accepted by consent of a whole countrey & nation, it is called a language, & receaueth none allowed alteration, but by extraordinary occasions by little & little, as it were insensibly bringing in of many corruptions that creepe along with the time: of all which matters, we haue more largely spoken in our bookes of the originals and pedigree of the English tong. Then when I say language, I meane the speach wherein the Poet or maker writeth be it Greek or Latine or as our case is the vulgar English, & when it is peculiar vnto a countrey it is called the mother speach
These be words vsed by th’author in this present treatise, scientificke, but with some reason, for it ausuereth the word mechanicall, which no other word could haue done so properly, for when hee spake of all artificers which rest either in science or in handy craft, it followed necessarilie that scientifique should be coupled with mechanicall: or els neither of both to haue bene allowed, but in their places: a man of science liberall, and a handicrafts man, which had not bene so cleanly a speech as the other Maior-domo: in truth this word is borrowed of the Spaniard and Italian, and therefore new and not vsuall, but to them that are acquainted with the affaires of Court: and so for his iolly magnificence (as this case is) may be accepted among Courtiers, for whom this is specially written. A man might haue said in steade of Maior-domo, the French word (maistre d’hostell) but ilfauouredly, or the right English word (Lord Steward.) But me thinks for my owne opinion this word Maior-domo though he be borrowed, is more acceptable than any of the rest, other men may iudge otherwise. Politien, this word also is receuied from the Frenchmen, but at this day vsuall in Court and with all good Secretaries: and cannot finde an English word to match him, for to haue said a man politique, had not bene so wel: bicause in trueth that had bene no more than to haue said a ciuil person. Politien is rather a surueyour of ciuilitie than ciuil, & a publique minister or Counseller in the state. Ye haue also this worde Conduict, a French word, but well allowed of vs, and long since vsuall, it soundes somewhat more than this word (leading) for it is applied onely to the leading of a Captaine, and not as a little boy should leade a blinde man, therefore more proper to the case when he saide, conduict of whole armies: ye finde also this word Idiome, taken from the Greekes, yet seruing aptly, when a man wanteth to expresse so much vnles it be in two words, which surplussage to auoide, we are allowed to draw in other words single, and asmuch significatiue: this word significatiue is borrowed of the Latine and French, but to vs brought in first by some Noble-mans Secretarie, as I thinke, yet doth so well serue the turne, as it could not now be spared: and many more like vsurped Latine and French words: as,
CHAP. V.
Of Stile.
Stile is a constant & continuall phrase or tenour of speaking and writing, extending to the whole tale or processe of the poeme or historie, and not properly to any peece or member of a tale: but is of words speeches and sentences together, a certaine contriued forme and qualitie, many times naturall to the writer, many times his peculier by election and arte, and such as either he keepeth by skill, or holdeth on by ignorance, and will not or peraduenture cannot easily alter into any other. So we say that Ciceros stile and Salusts were not one, nor Cesars and Linies, nor Homers and Hesiodus, nor Herodotus and Theucidides, nor Euripides & Aristophones, nor Erasmus and Budeus stiles. And because this continuall course and manner of writing or speech sheweth the matter and disposition of the writers minde, more than one or
CHAP. VI.
Of the high, low, and meane subiect.
The matters therefore that concerne the Gods and diuine things are highest of all other to be couched in writing, next to them the noble gests and great fortunes of Princes, and the notable accidents of time, as the greatest affaires of war & peace, these be all high subiectes, and therefore are deliuered ouer to the Poets Hymnick & historicall who be occupied either in diuine laudes, or in heroicall reports: the meane matters be those that concerne meane men their life and busines, as lawyers, gentlemen, and marchants, good housholders and honest Citizens, and which found neither to matters of state nor of warre, nor leagues, nor great alliances, but smatch all the common conuersation, as of the ciuiller and better sort of men: the base and low matters be the doings of the common artificer, seruingman, yeoman, groome, husbandman, day-labourer, sailer, shepheard, swynard, and such like of homely calling, degree and bringing vp: so that in euery of the sayd three degrees, not the selfe same vertues be egally to be praysed nor the same vices, egally to be dispraised, nor their loues, mariages, quarels, contracts and other behauiours, be like high nor do require to be set fourth with the like stile: but euery one in his degree and decencie,
CHAP. VII.
Of Figures and figuratuie speaches.
As figures be the instruments of ornament in euery language, so be they also in a sorte abuses or rather trespasses in speach, because they passe the ordinary limits of common vtterance, and be occupied of purpose to deceiue the eare and also the minde, drawing it from plainnesse and simplicitie to a certaine doublenesse, whereby our talke is the more guilefull & abusing, for what els is your Metaphor but an inuersion of sence by transport; your allegorie by a duplicitie of meaning or dissimulation vnder couert and darke intendments: one while speaking obscurely and in riddle called AEnigma: another while by common prouerbe or Adage called Paremia: then by merry skoffe called Ironia: then by bitter tawnt called Sarcasmus: then by periphrase or circumlocution when all might be said in a word or two: then by incredible comparison giuing credit, as by your Hyperbole, and many other waies seeking to inueigle and appassionate the mind: which thing made the graue iudges Areopagites (as I find written) to forbid all manner of figuratiue speaches to be vsed before them in their consistorie
CHAP. VIII.
Sixe pointes set downe by our learned forefathers for a generall regiment of all good vtterance be it by mouth or by writing.
Bvt before there had bene yet any precise obseruation made of figuratiue speeches, the first learned artificers of language considered that the bewtie and good grace of vtterance rested in no many pointes: and whatsoeuer transgressed those lymits, they counted it for vitious; and thereupon did set downe a manner of regiment in all speech generally to be obserued, consisting in sixe pointes. First they said that there ought to be kept a decent proportion in our writings and speach, which they termed Analogia. Secondly, that it ought to be voluble vpon the tongue, and tunable
CHAP. IX.
How the Greeks first, and afterward the Latines, inuented new names for euery figure, which this Author is also enforced to doo in his vulgar.
The Greekes were a happy people for the freedome & liberty of their language, because it was allowed them to inuent any new name that they listed, and to peece many words together to make of them one entire, much more significatiue than the single word. So among other things did they to their figuratiue speeches deuise cortainen ames. The Latines came somewhat behind them in that point, and for want of conuenient single wordes to expresse that which the Greeks could do by cobling many words together, they were faine to vse the Greekes still, till after many yeares that the learned Oratours and good Grammarians among the Romaines, as Cicero, Verro, Quintilian, & others strained themselues to giue the Greeke wordes Latin names, and yet nothing so apt and fitty. The same course are we driuen to follow in this description, since we are enforced to cull out for the vse of our Poet or maker all the most commendable figures. Now to make them knowen (as behoueth) either we must do it by th’originall Greeke name or by the Latine, or by our owne. But when I consider to what sort of Readers I write, & how illfaring the Greeke terme would sound in the English eare, then also how short the Latines come to expresse manie of the Greeke originals. Finally, how well our language serueth to supplie the full signification of them both, I haue thought it no lesse lawfull, yea peraduenture under licence of the learned, more laudable to vse our owne naturall, if they be well chosen, and of proper signification, than to borrow theirs. So shall not our English Poets, though they be to seeke
CHAP. X.
A division of figures, and how they serue in exornation of language.
And because our chiefe purpose herein is for the learning of Ladies and young Gentlewomen, or idle Courtiers, desirous to become skilful in their owne mother tongue, and for their priuate recreation to make now & then ditties of pleasure, thinking for our parte none other science so fit for them & the place as that which teacheth beau semblant, the chiefe profession aswell of Courting as of poesie: since to such manner of mindes nothing is more combersome then tedious doctrines and schollarly methodes of discipline, we haue in our owne conceit deuised a new and strange modell of this arte, fitter to please the Court then the schoole, and yet not vnnecessarie for all such as be willing themselues to become good makers in the vulgar, or to be able to iudge of other mens makings: wherefore, intending to follow the course which we haue begun, thus we say: that though the language of our Poet or maker being pure & clenly, & not disgraced by such vicious parts as haue bene before remembred in the Chapter of language, be sufficiently pleasing
CHAP. XI
Of auricular figures apperteining to single wordes and working by their diuers soundes and audible tunes alteration to the eare onely and not the mynde.
A word as he lieth in course of language is many wayes figured and thereby not a little altered in sound, which consequently alters the tune and harmonie of a meeter as to the eare. And this alteration is sometimes by adding sometimes by rabbating, of a sillable or letter to or from a word either in the beginning, middle or ending ioyning or vnioyning of sillibles and letters suppressing or confounding their seueral soundes, or by misplacing of a letter, or by cleare exchaunge of one letter for another, or by wrong ranging of the accent. And your figures of addition or surpluse be three, videl. In the beginning, as to say: I-doon for doon, endanger for danger, embolden for bolden.
In the middle, as to say renuers for reuers, meeterly for meetly, goldylockes for goldlockes.
In th’end, as to say [remembren for remembre] [spoken for spoke]. And your figures of rabbate be as many, videl.
From the beginning, as to say [twixt for betwixt] [gainsay for againsay] [ill for euill].
From the middle, as to say [paraunter for parauenture] [poorety for pouertie] [souraigne for soueraigne] [tane for taken.]
From the end, as to say [morne for morning] [bet for better] and such like.
Your swallowing or eating vp one letter by another is when two vowels meete, whereof th’ones sound goeth into other, as to say for to attaine, t’attaine] for sorrow smart, sor’smart.]
Your displacing of a sillable as to say [desier for desire] [sier for sire.]
By cleare exchaunge of one letter or sillable for another, as to say euermare for euermore, wrang for wrong: gould for gold: fright for fraight and a hundred moe, which be commonly misused and strained to make rime.
By wrong ranging the accent of a sillable by which meane a short sillable is made long and a long short as to say soueraine for soueraine: gratious for gratious: endure for endure: Salomon for Salomon.
These many wayes may our maker alter his wordes, and sometimes it is done for pleasure to giue a better sound, sometimes vpon necessitie and to make vp the rime. But our maker must take heed that he be not to bold specially in exchange of one letter for another for vnlesse vsuall speach and custome allow it, it is a fault and no figure, and because these be figures of the smallest importaunce, I forbeare to giue them any vulgar name.
CHAP. XII.
Of Auricular figures pertaining to clauses of speech and by them working no little alteration to the eare.
As your single words may be many waies transfigured to make the meetre or verse more tunable and melodious, so also may your whole and entire clauses be in such sort contriued by the order of their construction as the eare may receiue certaine recreation, although the mind for any noueltie of sence be little or nothing affected. And therefore al your figures of grammaticall construction, I accompt them but merely auricular in that they reach no furder then the eare. To which there will appeare some sweete or vnsauery point to offer you dolour or delight, either by some euident defect, or surplusage, or disorder, or immutation in the same speaches notably altering either the congruitie grammaticall, or the sence, or both.
[Sidenote: Eclipsis or the Figure of default.] And first of those that worke by defect, if but one word or some little portion of speach be wanting, it may be supplied by ordinary vnderstanding and vertue of the figure Eclipsis, as to say so early a man, for [are ye] so early a man: he is to be intreated, for he is [easie] to be intreated: I thanke God I am to liue like a Gentleman, for I am [able] to liue, and the Spaniard said in his deuise of armes acuerdo oluido, I remember I forget whereas in right congruitie of speach it should be: I remember [that I [doo] forget. And in a deuise of our owne [empechement pur a choison] a let for a furderance whereas it should be said [vse] a let for a furderance, and a number more like speaches defectiue, and supplied by common vnderstanding.
[Sidenote: Zeugma or the Single
supply.]
But if it be to mo clauses then one, that some such
word be supplied to perfit the congruitie or sence
of them all, it is by the figure [Zeugma] we
call him the [single supplie] because by one
word we serue many clauses of one congruitie, and
may be likened to the man that serues many maisters
at once, but all of one country or kindred: as
to say
Fellowes, and friends and kinne forsooke
me quite.
Here this word forsooke satisfieth the congruitie
and sence of all three
clauses, which would require euery of them asmuch.
And as we setting forth
her Maiesties regall petigree said in this figure
of [Single supplie.]
Her graundsires Father and Brother
was a King
Her mother a crowned Queene, her Sister
and her selfe.
Whereas ye see this one Word [was] serues them all in that they require but one congruitie and sence.
[Sidenote: Prozeugma, or the
Ringleader.]
Yet hath this figure of [Single supply] another
propertie, occasioning him to change now and then
his name: by the order of his supplie, for if
it be placed in the forefront of all the seuerall clauses
whom he is to serue as a common seruitour, then is
he called by the Greeks Prozeugma, by vs the
Ringleader: thus
Her beautie perst mine eye, her speach
mine wofull hart;
Her presence all the powers of my discourse.
&c.
Where ye see this one word [perst] placed in the foreward, satisfieth both in sence & congruitie all those other clauses that followe him.
[Sidenote: Mezozeugma, or
the Middlemarcher.]
And if such word of supplie be placed in the middle
of all such clauses as he serues: it is by the
Greeks called Mezozeugma, by us the [Middlemarcher]
thus:
Faire maydes beautie (alack) with yeares
it weares away,
And with wether and sicknes, and sorrow
as they say.
Where ye see this word [weares] serues one
clause before him, and two clauses behind him, in
one and the same sence and congruitie. And in
this verse,
Either the troth or talke nothing at
all.
Where this word [talke] serues the clause before and also behind.
[Sidenote: Hypozeugma, or
the Rerewarder.]
But if such supplie be placed after all the clauses,
and not before nor in the middle, then is he called
by the Greeks Hypozeugma, and by vs the [Rerewarder]
thus:
My mates that wont, to keepe me companie
And my neighbours, who dwelt next to my
wall
The friends that sware, they would not
sticke to die
In my quarrell: they are fled from
me all.
Where ye see this word [fled from me] serue all the three clauses requiring but one congruitie & sence.
[Sidenote: Sillepsis, or the
Double supply.]
But if such want be in sundrie clauses, and of seuerall
congruities or sence, and the supply be made to serue
them all, it is by the figure Sillepsis, whom
for that respect we call the [double supplie]
conceiuing, and, as it were, comprehending vnder one,
a supplie of two natures, and may be likened to the
man that serues many masters at once, being of strange
Countries or kinreds, as in these verses, where the
lamenting widow shewed the Pilgrim the graues in which
her husband & children lay buried.
Here my sweete sonnes and daughters
all my blisse,
Yonder mine owne deere husband buried
is.
Where ye see one verbe singular supplyeth the plurall
and singular, and
thus
Iudge ye louers, if it be strange or
no;
My Ladie laughs for ioy, and I for wo.
Where ye see a third person supplie himselfe and a
first person. And thus,
Madame ye neuer shewed your selfe vntrue,
Nor my deserts would euer suffer you.
Viz. to show. Where ye see the moode Indicatiue
supply him selfe and an
Infinitiue. And the like in these other.
I neuer yet failde you in constancie,
Nor neuer doo intend vntill I die.
Viz. [to show.] Thus much for the congruitie,
now for the sence. One
wrote thus of a young man, who slew a villaine that
had killed his father,
and rauished his mother.
Thus valiantly and with a manly minde,
And by one feate of euerlasting fame,
This lustie lad fully requited kinde,
His fathers death, and eke his mothers
shame.
Where ye see this word [requite] serue a double sence: that is to say, to reuenge, and to satisfie. For the parents iniurie was reuenged, and the duetie of nature performed or satisfied by the childe.
[Sidenote: Hypozeuxis, or
the Substitute.]
But if this supplie be made to sundrie clauses, or
to one clause sundrie times iterated, and by seuerall
words, so as euery clause hath his owne supplie:
then is it called by the Greekes Hypozeuxis,
we call him the substitute after his originall, and
is a supplie with iteration, as thus:
Vnto the king she went, and to the
king she said,
Mine owne liege Lord behold thy poore
handmaid.
Here [went to the king] and [said to the
king] be but one clause
iterated with words of sundrie supply. Or as
in these verses following.
My Ladie gaue me, my Lady wist not
what,
Geuing me leaue to be her Soueraine:
For by such gift my Ladie hath done that,
Which whilest she liues she may not call
againe.
Here [my Ladie gaue] and [my Ladie wist] be supplies with iteration, by vertue of this figure.
Ye haue another auricular figure of defect, and is when we begin to speake a thing, and breake of in the middle way, as if either it needed no further to be spoken of, or that we were ashamed, or afraide to speake it it out. It is also sometimes done by way of threatning, and to shew a moderation of anger. The Greekes call him Aposiopesis. I, the figure of silence, or of interruption, indifferently.
[Sidenote: Aposiopesis, or
the Figure of silence.]
If we doo interrupt our speech for feare, this may
be an example, where as one durst not make the true
report as it was, but staid halfe way for feare of
offence, thus:
He said you were, I dare not tell you
plaine
For words once out, neuer returne againe.
If it be for shame, or that the speaker suppose it
would be indecent to
tell all, then thus: as he that said to his sweete
hart, whom he checked
for secretly whispering with a suspected person.
And did ye not come by his chamber
dore?
And tell him that: goe to, I say
no more.
If it be for anger or by way of manace or to show
a moderation of wrath as
the graue and discreeter sort of men do, then thus.
If I take you with such another cast
I sweare by God, but let this be the last.
Thinking to haue said further viz. I will punish you.
If it be for none of all these causes but vpon some
sodaine occasion that
moues a man to breake of his tale, then thus.
He told me all at large: lo yonder
is the man
Let himselfe tell the tale that best tell
can.
This figure is fit for phantasticall heads and such as be sodaine or lacke memorie. I know one of good learning that greatly blemisheth his discretion with this maner of speach: for if he be in the grauest matter of the world talking, he will vpon the sodaine for the flying of a bird ouerthwart the way, or some other such sleight cause, interrupt his tale and neuer returne to it againe.
[Sidenote: Prolepsis, or the
Propounder.]
Ye haue yet another maner of speach purporting at
the first blush a defect which afterward is supplied
the, Greekes call him Prolepsis, we the Propounder,
or the Explaner which ye will: because he workes
both effectes, as thus, where in certaine verses we
describe the triumphant enter-view of two great Princesses
thus.
These two great Queenes, came marching
hand in hand,
Vunto the hall, where store of Princes
stand:
And people of all countreys to behold,
Coronis all clad, in purple cloth of gold:
Celiar in robes, of siluer tissew white
With rich rubies, and pearles all bedighte.
Here ye see the first proposition in a sort defectiue and of imperfect sence, till ye come by diuision to explane and enlarge it, but if we should follow the originall right, we ought rather to call him the forestaller, for like as he that standes in the market way, and takes all vp before it come to the market in grosse and sells it by retaile, so by this maner of speach our maker setts down before all the matter by a brief proposition, and afterward explanes it by a diuision more particularly.
By this other example it appeares also.
Then deare Lady I pray you let it bee,
That our long loue may lead us to agree:
Me since I may not wed you to my wife,
To serue you as a mistresse all my life:
Ye that may not me for your husband haue,
To clayme me for your seruant and your
slaue.
CHAP. XIII.
Of your figures Auricular working by disorder.
[Sidenote: Hiperbaton, or the Trespasser.] To all of speaches which wrought by disorder by the Greekes gaue a general name [Hiperbaton] as much to say as the [trespasser] and because such disorder may be committed many wayes it receiueth sundry particulars vnder him, whereof some are onely proper to the Greekes and Latines and not to vs, other some ordinarie in our maner of speaches, but so foule and intollerable as I will not seeme to place them among the figures, but do raunge them as they deserue among the vicious or faultie speaches.
[Sidenote: Parenthesis, or
the Insertour]
Your first figure of tollerable disorder is [Parenthesis]
or by an English name the [Insertour] and is
when ye will seeme for larger information or some
other purpose, to peece or graffe in the middest of
your tale an vnnecessary parcell of speach, which neuerthelesse
may be thence without any detriment to the rest.
The figure is so common that it needeth none example,
neuerthelesse because we are to teache Ladies and
Gentlewomen to know their schoole points and termes
appertaining to the Art, we may not refuse ro yeeld
examples euen in the plainest cases, as that of maister
Diars very aptly.
But now my Deere (for so my
loue makes me to call you still)
That loue I say, that lucklesse loue,
that works me all this ill.
Also in our Eglogue intituled Elpine, which
we made being but eightene
yeares old, to king Edward the sixt a Prince
of great hope, we surmised
that the Pilot of a ship answering the King, being
inquisitiue and
desirous to know all the parts of the ship and tackle,
what they were, &
to what vse they serued, vsing this insertion or Parenthesis.
Soueraigne Lord (for why a greater
name
To one on earth no mortall tongue can
frame
No statelie stile can giue the practisd
penne:
To one on earth conuersant among men.)
And so proceedes to answere the kings question?
The shippe thou seest sayling in sea
so large, &c.
This insertion is very long and vtterly impertinent to the principall matter, and makes a great gappe in the tale, neuerthelesse is no disgrace but rather a bewtie and to very good purpose, but you must not vse such insertions often nor to thick, nor those that bee very long as this of ours, for it will breede great confusion to haue the tale so much interrupted.
[Sidenote: Histeron proteron,
or the Preposterous.]
Ye haue another manner of disordered speach, when
ye misplace your words or clauses and set that before
which should be behind, _& e conuerso_, we call it
in English prouerbe, the cart before the horse, the
Greeks call it Histeron proteron, we name it
the Preposterous, and if it be not too much vsed is
tollerable inough, and many times scarse perceiueable,
vnlesse the sence be thereby made very absurd:
as he that described his manner of departure from
his mistresse, said thus not much to be misliked.
I kist her cherry lip and tooke my
leaue:
For I tooke my leaue and kist her: And yet I
cannot well say whether a man vse to kisse before
hee take his leaue, or take his leaue before he kisse,
or that it be all one busines. It seemes the taking
leaue is by vsing some speach, intreating licence
of departure: the kisse a knitting vp of the
farewell, and as it were a testimoniall of the licence
without which here in England one may not presume
of courtesie to depart, let yong Courtiers decide
this controuersie. One describing his landing
vpon a strange coast, sayd thus preposterously.
When we had climbde the clifs, and
were a shore,
Whereas he should haue said by good order.
When we were come ashore and clymed
had the cliffs
For one must be on land ere he can clime. And
as another said:
My dame that bred me up and bare me
in her wombe.
Whereas the bearing is before the bringing vp. All your other figures of disorder because they rather seeme deformities then bewties of language, for so many of them as be notoriously vndecent, and make no good harmony, I place them in the Chapter of vices hereafter following.
CHAP. XIIII.
Of your figures Auricular that worke by Surplusage.
Your figures auricular that worke by surplusage, such of them as be materiall and of importaunce to the sence or bewtie of your language, I referre them to the harmonicall speaches oratours among the figures rhetoricall, as be those of repetition, and iteration or amplification. All other sorts of surplusage, I accompt rather vicious then figuratiue, & therefore not melodious as shalbe remembred in the chapter of viciosities or faultie speaches.
CHAP. XV.
Of auricular figures working by exchange.
[Sidenote: Enallage, or the Figure of Exchange.] Your figures that worke auricularly by exchange, were more obseruable to the Greekes and Latines for the brauenesse of their language, ouer that ours is, and for the multiplicitie of their Grammaticall accidents, or verball affects, as I may terme them, that is to say, their diuers cases, moodes, tenses, genders, with variable terminations, by reason whereof, they changed not the very word, but kept the word, and changed the shape of him onely, vsing one case for another, or tense, or person, or gender, or number, or moode. We, hauing no such varietie of accidents, haue little or no vse of this figure. They called it Enallage.
[Sidenote: Hipallage, or the Changeling.] But another sort of exchange which they had, and very prety, we doe likewise vse, not changing one word for another, by their accidents or cases, as the Enallage: nor by the places, as the [Preposterous] but changing their true construction and application, whereby the sence is quite peruerted and made very absurd: as he that should say, for tell me troth and lie not, lie me troth and tell not. For come dine with me and stay not, come stay with me and dine not.
A certaine piteous louer, to moue his mistres to compassion,
wrote among other amorous verses, this one.
Madame, I set your eyes before mine
woes.
For, mine woes before your eyes, spoken to th’intent to winne fauour in her sight.
But that was pretie of a certaine sorrie man of law,
that gaue his Client but bad councell, and yet found
fault with his fee, and said: my fee, good frend,
hath deserued better counsel. Good master, quoth
the Client, if your selfe had not said so, I would
neuer haue beleeued it; but now I thinke as you doo.
The man of law perceiuing his error, I tell thee (quoth
he) my counsel hath deserued a better fee. Yet
of all others was that a most ridiculous, but very
true exchange, which the yeoman of London vsed with
his Sergeant at the Mace, who said he would goe into
the countrie, and make merry a day or two, while his
man plyed his busines at home: an example of
it you shall finde in our Enterlude entituled Lustie
London: the Sergeant, for sparing of hors-hire,
said he would goe with the Carrier on foote.
That is not for your worship, saide his yeoman, whereunto
the Sergeant replyed.
I wot what I meant Iohn, it is for
to stay
And company the knaue Carrier, for loosing
my way.
The yeoman thinking it good manner to soothe his Sergeant,
said againe,
I meant what I wot Sir, your best is
to hie,
And carrie a knaue with you for companie.
Ye see a notorious exchange of the construction, and application of the words in this: I wot what I meane; and I meane what I wot, and in the other, company the knaue Carrier, and carrie a knaue in your company. The Greekes call this figure [Hipallage] the Latins Submutatio, we in our vulgar may call him the [under-change] but I had rather haue him called the [Changeling] nothing at all sweruing from his originall, and much more aptly to the purpose, and pleasanter to beare in memory: specially for our Ladies and pretie mistresses in Court, for whose learning I write, because it is a terme often in their mouthes, and alluding to the opinion of Nurses, who are wont to say, that the Fayries vse to steale the fairest children out of their cradles, and put other ill fauoured in their places, which they called changelings, or Elfs: so, if ye mark, doeth our Poet, or maker play with his wordes, vsing a wrong construction for a right, and an absurd for a sensible, by manner of exchange.
CHAP. XVI.
Of some other figures which because they serue chiefly to make the meeters tunable and melodious, and affect not the minde but very little, be placed among the auricular.
[Sidenote: Omoioteleton, or
the Like loose.]
The Greekes vsed a manner of speech or writing in
their proses, that went by clauses, finishing in words
of like tune, and might be by vsing like cases, tenses,
and other points of consonance, which they called
Omoioteleton, and is that wherin they neerest
approched to our vulgar ryme, and may thus be expressed.
Weeping creeping beseeching I wan,
The loue at length of Lady Lucian.
Or thus if we speake in prose and not in meetre.
Mischaunces ought not to be lamented,
But rather by wisedome in time preuented:
For such mishappes as be remedilesse,
To sorrow them it is but foolishnesse:
Yet are we all so frayle of nature,
As to be greeued with euery displeasure.
The craking Scotts as the Cronicle reportes at a certaine
time made this
bald rime vpon the English-men.
Long beards hartlesse,
Painted hoodes witlesse:
Gay coates gracelesse,
Make all England thriftlesse.
Which is no perfect rime in deede, but clauses finishing in the self same tune: for a rime of good simphonie should not conclude his concords with one & the same terminant sillable, as less, less, less, but with diuers and like terminants, as les, pres, mes, as was before declared in the chapter of your cadences, and your clauses in prose should neither finish with the same nor with the like terminants, but with the contrary as hath bene shewed before in the booke of proportions; yet many vse it otherwise, neglecting the Poeticall harmonie and skill. And th’Earle of Surrey with Syr Thomas Wyat the most excellent makers of their time, more peraduenture respecting the fitnesse and ponderositie of their wordes then the true cadence or simphonie, were very licencious in this point. We call this figure following the originall, the [like loose] alluding to th’Archers terme who is not said to finish the feate of his shot before he giue the loose, and deliuer his arrow from his bow, in which respect we vse to say marke the loose of a thing for marke the end of it.
[Sidenote: Parimion, or the
Figure of like letter.]
Ye do by another figure notably affect th’eare
when ye make euery word of the verse to begin with
a like letter, as for example in this verse written
in an Epithaphe of our making.
Time tried his truth his trauailes
and his trust,
And time to late tried his integritie.
It is a figure much vsed by our common rimers, and doth well if it be not too much vsed, for then it falleth into the vice which shalbe hereafter spoken of called Tautologia.
[Sidenote: Asyndeton, or the
Loose language.]
Ye haue another sort of speach in a maner defectiue
because it wants good band or coupling, and is the
figure [Asyndeton] we call him [loose language]
and doth not a litle alter th’eare as thus.
I saw it, I said it, I will sweare
it.
Caesar the Dictator vpon the victorie hee obteined
against Pharnax king of Bithinia shewing
the celeritie of his conquest, wrate home to the Senate
in this tenour of speach no lesse swift and speedy
then his victorie.
Veni, vidi, vici,
I came, I saw, I overcame.
Meaning thus I was no sooner come and beheld them but the victorie fell on my side.
The Prince of Orenge for his deuise of Armes in banner
displayed against
the Duke of Adua and the Spaniards in the Low-countrey
vsed the like maner
of speach.
Pro Rege, pro lege, pro grege,
For the king, for the commons, for the
countrey lawes.
It is a figure to be vsed when we will seeme to make hast, or to be earnest, and these examples with a number more be spoken by the figure of [lose language.]
[Sidenote: Polisindeton, or
the Couple clause.]
Quite contrary to this ye haue another maner of construction
which they called [Polisindeton] we may call
him the [couple clause] for that euery clause
is knit and coupled together with a coniunctiue thus,
And I saw it, and I say it and I
Will sweare it to be true.
So might the Poesie of Caesar haue bene altered
thus.
I came, and I saw, and I ouercame.
One wrote these verses after the same sort,
For in her mynde no thought there is,
But how she may be true to is:
And tenders thee and all thy heale,
And wisheth both thy health and weale:
And is thine owne, and so she sayes,
And cares for thee ten thousand wayes.
[Sidenote: Irmus, or the Long
loose.]
Ye haue another maner of speach drawen out at length
and going all after one tenure and with an imperfit
sence till you come to the last word or verse which
concludes the whole premisses with a perfit sence &
full periode, the Greeks call it [Irmus,] I
call him the [long loose] thus appearing in
a dittie of Sir Thomas Wyat where he describes
the diuers distempers of his bed.
The restlesse state renuer of my smart,
The labours salue increasing my sorrow:
The bodies ease and troubles of my hart,
Quietour of mynde mine unquiet foe:
Forgetter of paine remembrer of my woe,
The place of sleepe wherein I do but wake:
Besprent with teares my bed I thee forsake.
Ye see here how ye can gather no perfection of sence
in all this dittie
till ye come to the last verse in these wordes my
bed I thee forsake.
And in another Sonet of Petrarcha which was
thus Englished by the same
Sir Thomas Wyat.
If weaker care of sodaine pale collour,
If many sighes with little speach to plaine:
Now ioy now woe, if they my ioyes distaine,
For hope of small, if much to feare therefore,
Be signe of loue then do I loue againe.
Here all the whole sence of the dittie is suspended till ye come to the last three wordes, then do I loue againe, which finisheth the song with a full and perfit sence.
[Sidenote: Epitheton, or the
Qualifier.]
When ye will speake giuing euery person or thing besides
his proper name a qualitie by way of addition whether
it be of good or of bad it is a figuratiue speach
of audible alteration, so is it also of sence as to
say.
Fierce Achilles, wise Nestor, wilie
Vlysses,
Diana the chast and thou louely Venus:
With thy blind boy that almost neuer misses,
But hits our hartes when he levels at
vs.
Or thus commending the Isle of great Brittaine.
Albion hugest of Westerne Ilands all,
Soyle of sweete ayre and of good store:
God send we see thy glory neuer fall,
But rather dayly to grow more and more.
Or as we sang of our Soueraigne Lady giuing her these
Attributes besides
her proper name.
Elizatbeth regent of the great Brittaine
Ile,
Honour of all regents and of Queenes.
But if we speake thus not expressing her proper name
Elizabeth, videl.
The English Diana, the great Britton
mayde.
Then is it not by Epitheton or figure of Attribution but by the figures Antonomasia, or Periphrasis.
[Sidenote: Endiadis, or the
Figure of Twinnes.]
Ye haue yet another manner of speach when ye will
seeme to make two of one, not thereunto constrained,
which therefore we call the figure of Twynnes, the
Greekes Endiadis thus.
Not you coy dame your lowrs nor your
lookes.
For [your lowring lookes] And as one of our
ordinary rimers said,
Of fortune nor her frowning face,
I am nothing agast.
In stead of [fortunes frowning face.] One praysing
the Neapolitans for
good men at armes, said by the figure of Twynnes thus.
A proud people and wise and valiant,
Fiercely fighting with horses and with
barbes:
By whole prowes the Romain Prince did
daunt,
Wild Affricanes and the lawlesse Alarbes:
The Nubiens marching with their armed
cartes,
And sleaing a farre with venim, and with
dartes.
Where ye see this figure of Twynnes twise vsed, once when he said horses and barbes for barbd horses: againe when he saith with venim and with dartes for venimous dartes.
CHAP. XVII.
Of the figures which we call Sensable, because they alter and affect the minde by alteration of sence, and first in single wordes.
The eare hauing receiued his due satisfaction by the auricular figures, now must the minde also be seured, with his naturall delight by figures sensible such as by alteration of intendments affect the courage, and geue a good liking to the conceit. And first, single words haue their sence and vnderstanding altered and figured many wayes, to wit, by transport, abuse, crosse-naming, new naming, change of name. This will seeme very darke to you, vnlesse it be otherwise explaned more particularly: and first of Transport.
[Sidenote: Metaphora, or the Figure of transporte.] There is a kinde of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so naturall, but yet of some affinitie or conueniencie with it, as to say, I cannot digest your vnkinde words, for I cannot take them in good part: or as the man of law said, I feele you not, for I vnderstand not your case, because he had not his fee in his hand.
Here for want of an apter and more naturall word to declare the drie temper of the earth, it is said to thirst & to reioyce, which is onley proper to liuing creatures, and yet being so inuerted, doth not so much swerue from the true sence but that euery man can easilie conceiue the meaning thereof.
Againe, we vse it for pleasure and ornament of our
speach, as thus in an
Epitaph of our owne making, to the honourable memorie
of a deere friend,
Sir Iohn Throgmorton, knight, Iustice of Chester,
and a man of many
commendable vertues.
Whom vertue rerde, enuy hath ouerthrowen
And Iudged full low, vnder this marble
stone:
Ne neuer were his values so well knowen,
Whilest he liued here, as now that he
is gone.
Here these words, rered, overthrowen, and lodged,
are inuerted, &
metaphorically applyed, not vpon necessitie,
but for ornament onely,
afterward againe in these verses.
No sunne by day that euer saw him rest
Free from the toyles of his so busie charge,
No night that harbourd rankor in his breast,
Nor merry moode made reason runne at large.
In these verses the inuersion or metaphore, lyeth
in these words, saw,
harbourd, run: which naturally are applyed to
liuing things, & not to
insensible: as the sunne, or the night:
& yet they approach so neere,
& so conueniently, as the speech is thereby made more
commendable. Againe,
in moe verses of the same Epitaph, thus.
His head a source of grauitie and sence,
His memory a shop of ciuill arte,
His tongue a streame of sugred eloquence,
Wisdome and meekenes lay mingled in his
harte,
In which verses ye see that these words, source, shop, find, sugred, are inuerted from their owne signification to another, not altogether so naturall, but of much affinitie with it.
Then also do we it sometimes to enforce a sence and
make the word more
significatiue: as thus,
I burne in loue, I freese in deadly
hate
I swimme in hope, and sinke in deepe dispaire.
These examples I haue the willinger giuen you to set foorth the nature and vse of your figure metaphore, which of any other being choisly made, is the most commendable and most common.
[Sidenote: Catachresis, or
the Figure of abuse]
But if for lacke of naturall and proper terme or worde
we take another, neither naturall nor proper and do
vntruly applie it to the thing which we would seeme
to expresse, and without any iust inconuenience, it
is not then spoken by this figure Metaphore
or of inuersion as before, but by plaine abuse
as he that bad his man go into his library and set
him his bowe and arrowes, for in deede there was neuer
a booke there to be found, or as one should in reproch
say to a poore man, thou raskall knaue, where raskall
is properly the hunters terme giuen to young deere,
leane & out of season, and not to people: or
as one said very pretily in this verse.
I lent my loue to losse, and gaged
my life in vaine.
Whereas this worde lent is properly of mony or some such other thing, as men do commonly borrow, for vse to be repayed againe, and being applied to loue is vtterly abused, and yet very commendably spoken by vertue of this figure. For he that loueth and is not beloued againe; hath no lesse wrong, that he that lendeth and is neuer repayde.
[Sidenote: Metonimia, or the Misnamer]
Now doth this vnderstanding or secret conceyt reach
many times to the only nomination of persons or things
in their names, as of men, or mountaines, seas, countries
and such like, in which respect the wrong naming, or
otherwise naming of them then is due, carieth not onely
an alteration of sence but a necessitie of intendment
figuratiuely, as when we cal loue by the name of Venus,
fleshly lust by the name of Cupid, bicause they
were supposed by the auncient poets to be authors and
kindlers of loue and lust: Vulcane for
fire, Ceres for bread: Bacchus for
wine by the same reason; also if one should say to
a skilfull craftesman knowen for a glutton or common
drunkard, that had spent all his goods on riot and
delicate fare.
Thy hands they made thee rich, thy
pallat made thee poore.
It is ment, his trauaile and arte made him wealthie, his riotous life had made him a beggar: and as one that boasted of his housekeeping, said that neuer a yeare passed ouer his head, that he drank not in his house euery moneth foure tonnes of beere, & one hogshead of wine, meaning not the caskes, or vessels, but that quantitie which they conteyned. These and such other speaches, where ye take the name of the Author for the thing it selfe, or the thing conteining, for that which is contained, & in many other cases do as it were wromg name the person or the thing. So neuerthelesse as it may be vnderstood, it is by the figure metonymia, or misnamer.
[Sidentote: Antonomasia, or the Surnamer.]
And if this manner of naming of persons or things be
not by way of misnaming as before, but by a conuenient
difference, and such as is true or esteemed and likely
to be true, it is then called not metonimia,
but antonomasia, or the Surnamer, (not the
misnamer, which might extend to any other thing aswell
as to a person) as he that would say: not king
Philip of Spaine, but the Westerne king, because his
dominion lieth the furdest West of any Christen prince:
and the French king the great Vallois, because
so is the name of his house, or the Queene of England,
The maiden Queene, for that is her hiest peculiar
among all the Queenes of the world, or as we said
in one of our Partheniades, the Bryton mayde,
because she is the most great and famous mayden of
all Brittayne: thus,
But in chaste stile, am borne as I
weene
To blazon foorth the Brytton mayden Queene.
So did our forefathers call Henry the first, Beauclerke, Edmund Ironside, Richard coeur de lion: Edward the Confessor, and we of her Maiestie Elisabeth the peasible.
[Sidenote: Onomatopeia, or the New namer.] Then also is the sence figuratiue when we deuise a new name to any thing consonant, as neere as we can to the nature thereof, as to say: flashing of lightning, clashing of blades, clinking of fetters, chinking of money: & as the poet Virgil said of the sounding a trumpet, ta-ra-tant, taratantara, or as we giue special names to the voices of dombe beasts, as to say, a horse neigheth, a lyon brayes, a swine grunts, a hen cackleth, a dogge howles, and a hundreth mo such new names as any man hath libertie to deuise, so it be fittie for the thing which he couets to expresse.
[Sidenote: Epitheton, or the
Quallifier,
otherwise the figure of Attribution.]
Your Epitheton or qualifier, whereof
we spake before, placing him among the figures auricular,
now because he serues also to alter and enforce the
sence, we will say somewhat more of him in this place,
and do conclude that he must be apt and proper for
the thing he is added vnto, & not disagreable or repugnant,
as one that said: darke disdaine and miserable
pride, very absurdly, for disdaine or disdained
things cannot be said darke, but rather bright and
cleere, because they be beholden and much looked vpon,
and pride is rather enuied then pitied or miserable,
vnlessse it be in Christian charitie, which helpeth
not the terme in this case. Some of our vulgar
writers take great pleasure in giuing Epithets and
do it almost to euery word which may receiue them,
and should not be so, vea though they were neuer so
propre and apt, for sometimes wordes suffered to go
single, do giue greater sence and grace than words
quallified by attributions do.
[Sidenote: Metalepsis, or the Farreset.]
But the sence is much altered & the hearers conceit
strangly entangled by the figure Metalepsis,
which I call the farset, as when we had rather fetch
a word a great way off then to vse one nerer hand to
expresse the matter aswel & plainer. And it seemeth
the deuiser of this figure had a desire to please
women rather then men: for we vse to say by manner
of Prouerbe: things farreset and deare bought
are good for Ladies: so in this manner of speach
we vfe it, leaping ouer the heads of a great many words,
we take one that is furdest off, to vtter our matter
by: as Medea cursing hir first acquaintance
with prince Iason, who had very vnkindly forsaken
her, said:
Woe worth the mountaine that the maste
bare
Which was the first causer of all my care.
Where she might aswell haue said, woe worth our first
meeting, or woe worth the time that Iason arriued
with his ship at my fathers cittie in Colchos,
when he tooke me away with him, & not so farre off
as to curse the mountaine that bare the pinetree,
that made the mast, that bare the sailes, that the
ship sailed with, which caried her away. A pleasant
Gentleman came into a Ladies nursery, and saw her for
her owne pleasure rocking of her young child in the
cradle, and sayd to her:
I speake it Madame without any mocke,
Many a such cradell may I see you rocke.
Gods passion hourson said she, would thou haue me
beare mo children yet, no Madame quoth the
Gentleman, but I would haue you liue long, that ye
might the better pleasure your friends, for his meaning
was that as euery cradle signified a new borne childe,
& euery child the leasure of one yeares birth, & many
yeares a long life: so by wishing her to rocke
many cradels of her owne, he wished her long life.
Virgill said:
Post multas mea regna videns murabor
aristas.
Thus in English.
After many a stubble shall I come
And wonder at the sight of my kingdome.
By stubble the Poet vnderftoode yeares, for haruests come but once euery yeare, at least wayes with vs in Europe. Thus is spoken by the figure of farre-set Metalepsis.
[Sidenote: Emphasis, or the
Renforcer.]
And one notable meane to affect the minde, is to inforce
the sence of any thing by a word of more than ordinary
efficacie, and neuertheles is not apparant, but as
it were, secretly implyed, as he that laid thus of
a faire Lady.
O rare beautie, o grace, and curtesie.
And by a very euill man thus.
O sinne it selfe, not wretch, but wretchednes.
Whereas if he had said thus, O gratious, courteous and beautifull woman: and, O sinfull and wretched man, it had bene all to one effect, yet not with such force and efficacie to speake by the denominatiue, as by the thing it selfe.
[Sidenote: Liptote, or the
Moderatour.]
As by the former figure we vse to enforce our sence,
so by another we temper our sence with wordes of such
moderation, as in appearaunce it abateth it but not
in deede, and is by the figure Liptote, which
therefore I call the Moderator, and becomes
us many times better to speake in that sort quallified,
than if we spake it by more forcible termes, and neuertheles
is equipolent in sence, thus.
I know you hate me not, nor wish me
any ill.
Meaning in deede that he loued him very well and dearely, and yet the words doe not expresse so much, though they purport so much. Or if you would say; I am not ignorant, for I know well inough. Such a man is no foole, meaning in deede that he is a very wise man.
[Sidenote: Paradiastole, or the Curry-fauell.] But if such moderation of words tend to flattery, or soothing, or excusing, it is by the figure Paradiastole, which therfore nothing improperly we call the Curry-fauell, as when we make the best of a bad thing, or turne a signification to the more plausible sence: as, to call an vnthrift, a liberall Gentleman: the foolish-hardy, valiant or couragious: the niggard, thriftie: a great riot, or outrage, an youthfull pranke, and such like termes: moderating and abating the force of the matter by craft, and for a pleasing purpose, as appeareth by these verses of ours, teaching in what cases it may commendably be vsed by Courtiers.
[Sidenote: Meiosis, or the
Disabler.]
But if you diminish and abbase a thing by way of spight
or malice, as it were to depraue it, such speach is
by the figure Meiosis or the disabler
spoken of hereafter in the place of sententious
figures.
A great mountaine as bigge as a molehill,
A heauy burthen perdy, as a pound of fethers.
[Sidenote: Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.] But if ye abase your thing or matter by ignorance or errour in the choise of your word, then is it by vicious maner of speach called Tapinosis, whereof ye shall haue examples in the chapter of vices hereafter folowing.
[Sidenote: Synecdoche, or the Figure of quick conceite.] Then againe if we vse such a word (as many times we doe) by which we driue the hearer to conceiue more or lesse or beyond or otherwise then the letter expresseth, and it be not by vertue of the former figures Metaphore and Abase and the rest, the Greeks then call it Synecdoche, the Latines sub intellectio or vnderftanding, for by part we are enforced to vnderstand the whole, by the whole part, by many things one thing, by one, many, by a thing precedent, a thing consequent, and generally one thing out of another by maner of contrariety to the word which is spoken, aliudex alio, which because it seemeth to aske a good, quick, and pregnant capacitie, and is not for an ordinarie or dull wit so to do, I chose to call him the figure not onely of conceit after the Greeke originall, but also of quick conceite. As for example we will giue none because we will speake of him againe in another place, where he is ranged among the figures sensable apperteining to clauses.
CHAP. XVIII.
Of sensable figures altering and affecting the mynde by alteration of sense or intendements in whole clauses or speaches.
As by the last remembred figures the sence of single wordes is altered, so by these that follow is that of whole and entire speach: and first by the Courtly figure Allegoria, which is when we speake one thing and thinke another, and that our wordes and our meanings meete not. The vse of this figure is so large, and his vertue of so great efficacie as it is supposed no man can pleasantly vtter and perswade without it, but in effect is sure neuer or very seldome to thriue and prosper in the world, that cannot skilfully put in vse, in somuch as not onely euery common Courtier, but also the grauest Counsellour, yea and the most noble and wisest Prince of them all are many times enforced to vse it, by example (say they) of the great Emperour who had it vsually in his mouth to say, Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare. Of this figure therefore which for his duplicitie we call the figure of [false semblant or dissimulation] we will speake first as of the chief ringleader and captaine of all other figures, either in the Poeticall or oratorie science.
[Sidenote: Allegoria, or the Figure
of false semblant.] And ye shall know that we may
dissemble, I meane speake otherwise then we thinke,
in earnest as well as in sport, vnder couert and darke
termes, and in learned and apparant speaches, in short
sentences, and by long ambage and circumstance of
wordes, and finally aswell when we lye as when we tell
truth. To be short euery speach wrested from his
owne naturall signification to another not altogether
so naturall is a kinde of dissimulation, because the
wordes beare contrary countenaunce to th’intent.
But properly & in his principall vertue Allegoria
is when we do speake in sence translatiue and wrested
from the owne signification, neuerthelesse applied
to another not altogether contrary, but hauing much
coueniencie with it as before we said of the metaphore:
as for example if we should call the common wealth,
a shippe; the Prince a Pilot, the Counsellours mariners,
the stormes warres, the calme and [hauen] peace,
this is spoken all in allegorie: and because such
inuersion of sence in one single worde is by the figure
Metaphore, of whom we spake before, and this
manner of inuersion extending to whole and large speaches,
it maketh the figure allegorie to be called
a long and perpetuall Metaphore. A noble man
after a whole yeares absence from his ladie, sent
to know how she did, and whether she remayned affected
toward him as she was when he left her.
Louely Lady I long full sore to heare,
If ye remaine the same, I left you last
yeare.
To whom she answered in allegorie other two
verses:
My louing Lorde I will well that ye
wist,
The thred is spon, that neuer shall untwist.
Meaning, that her loue was so stedfast and constant
toward him as no time or occasion could alter it.
Virgill in his shepeherdly poemes called Eglogues
vsed as rusticall but fit allegorie for the
purpose thus:
Claudite iam riuos pueri sat prata
biberunt.
Which I English thus:
Stop up your streames (my lads) the
medes haue drunk ther fill.
As much to say, leaue of now, yee haue talked of the matter inough: for the shepheards guise in many places is by opening certaine sluces to water their pastures, so as when they are wet inough they shut them againe: this application is full Allegoricke.
Ye haue another manner of Allegorie not full, but
mixt, as he that wrate
thus:
The cloudes of care haue coured all
my coste,
The stormes of strife, do threaten to
appeare:
The waues of woe, wherein my ship is toste.
Haue broke the banks, where lay my life
so deere.
Chippes of ill chance, are fallen amidst
my choise,
To marre the minde that ment for to reioyce.
I call him not a full Allegorie, but mixt, bicause he discouers withall what the cloud, storme, waue, and the rest are, which in a full allegorie should not be discouered, but left at large to the readers iudgement and coniecture.
[Sidenote: Enigma, or the
Riddle.]
We dissemble againe vnder couert and darkes speaches,
when we speake by way of riddle (Enigma) of
which the sence can hardly be picked out, but by the
parties owne assoile, as he that said:
It is my mother well I wot,
And yet the daughter that I begot.
Meaning it by the ise which is made of frozen water, the same being molten by the sunne or fire, makes water againe.
My mother had an old woman in her nurserie, who in
the winter nights would
put vs forth many prety ridles, whereof this is one:
I haue a thing and rough it is
And in the midst a hole I wis:
There came a yong man with his ginne,
And he put it a handfull in.
The good old Gentlewoman would tell vs that were children how it was meant by a furd glooue. Some other naughtie body would peraduenture haue construed it not halfe so mannerly. The riddle is pretie but that it holdes too much of the Cachemphaton or foule speach and may be drawen to a reprobate sence.
[Sidenote: Parimia, or Prouerb.]
We dissemble after a sort, when we speake by comon
prouerbs, or, as we vse to call them, old said sawes,
as thus:
As the olde cocke crowes so doeth the
chick:
A bad Cooke that cannot his owne fingers
lick.
Meaning by the first, that the yong learne by the olde, either to be good or euill in their behauiors: by the second, that he is not to be counted a wise man, who being in authority, and hauing the administration of many good and great things, will not serue his owne turne and his friends whilest he may, & many such prouerbiall speeches: as Totnesse is turned French, for a strange alteration: Skarborow warning, for a sodaine commandement, allowing no respect or delay to bethinke a man of his busines. Note neuerthelesse a diuersitie, for the two last examples be prouerbs, the two first prouebiall speeches.
[Sidenote: Ironia, or the Drie mock.] Ye doe likewise dissemble, when ye speake in derision or mokerie, & that may be many waies: as sometime in sport, sometime in earnest, and priuily, and apertly, and pleasantly, and bitterly: but first by the figure Ironia, which we call the drye mock: as he that said to a bragging Ruffian, that threatened he would kill and slay, no doubt you are a good man of your hands: or, as it was said by a French king, to one that praide his reward, shewing how he had bene cut in the face at a certain battell fought in his seruice: ye may see, quoth the king, what it is to runne away & looke backwards. And as Alphonso king of Naples, said to one that profered to take his ring when he washt before dinner, this wil serue another well: meaning that the Gentlemen had another time taken them, & becaufe the king forgot to aske for them, neuer restored his ring againe.
[Sidenote: Sarcasmus, or the Bitter taunt.] Or when we deride with a certaine seueritie, we may call it the bitter taunt [Sarcasmus] as Charles the fift Emperour aunswered the Duke of Arskot, beseeching him recompence of seruice done at the siege of Renty, against Henry the French king, where the Duke was taken prisoner, and afterward escaped clad like a Colliar. Thou wert taken, quoth the Emperour, like a coward, and scapedst like a Colliar, wherefore get thee home and liue vpon thine owne. Or as king Henry the eight said to one of his priuy chamber, who sued for Sir Anthony Rowse, knight of Norfolke, that his Maiestie would be good vnto him, for that he was an ill begger. Quoth the king againe, if he be ashamed to beg, we are ashamed to geue. Or as Charles the fift Emperour, hauing taken in battaile Iohn Frederike Duke of Saxon, with the Lantgraue of Hessen and others: this Duke being a man of monstrous bignesse and corpulence, after the Emperor had seene the prisoners, said to those that were about him, I haue gone a hunting many times, yet neuer tooke I such a swine before.
[Sidenote: Asteismus or the Merry scoffe, otherwise the ciuill iest.] Or when we speake by manner of pleasantery, or mery skoffe, that is by a kind of mock, whereof the sence is farreset, & without any gall or offence. The Greekes call it [Asteismus] we may terme it the ciuill iest, because it is a mirth very full of ciuilitie, and such as the most ciuill men doo vse. As Cato said to one that had geuen him a good knock on the head with a long peece of timber he bare on his shoulder, and then bad him beware: what (quoth Cato) wilt thou strike me againe? for ye know, a warning should be geuen before a man haue receiued harme, and not after. And as king Edward the sixt, being of young yeres, but olde in wit, saide to one of his priuie chamber, who sued for a pardon for one that was condemned for a robberie, telling the king that if was but a
The Emperor Charles the fift was a man of very few words, and delighted little in talke. His brother king Ferdinando being a man of more pleasant discourse, sitting at the table with him, said, I pray your Maiestie be not so silent, but let vs talke a little. What neede that brother, quoth the Emperor, since you haue words enough for vs both.
[Sidenote: Micterismus, or the Fleering frumpe.] Or when we giue a mocke with a scornefull countenance as in some smiling sort looking aside or by drawing the lippe awry, or shrinking vp the nose; the Greeks called it Micterismus, we may terme it a fleering frumpe, as he that said to one whose wordes he beleued not, no doubt Sir of that. This fleering frumpe is one of the Courtly graces of hicke the scorner.
[Sidenote: Antiphrasis, or the Broad floute.] Or when we deride by plaine and flat contradiction, as he that saw a dwarfe go in the streete said to his companion that walked with him: See yonder gyant: and to a Negro or woman blackemoore, in good sooth ye are a faire one, we may call it the broad floute.
[Sidenote: Charientismus, or the Priuy nippe.] Or when ye giue a mocke vnder smooth and lowly wordes as he that hard one call him all to nought and say, thou art sure to be hanged ere thou dye: quoth th’other very soberly, Sir I know your maistership speakes but in iest, the Greeks call it (charientismus) we may call it the priuy nippe, or a myld and appealing mockery: all these be souldiers to the figure allegoria and fight vnder the banner of dissimulation.
[Sidenote: Hiperbole, or the
Ouer reacher,
otherwise
called the loud lyer.]
Neuerthelesse ye haue yet two or three other figures
that smatch a spice of the same false semblant,
but in another sort and maner of phrase, whereof one
is when we speake in the superlatiue and beyond the
limites of credit, that is by the figure which the
Greeks call Hiperbole, Latines Demenitiens
or the lying figure. I for his immoderate excesse
cal him the ouer reacher right with his originall
or [lowd lyar] & me thinks not amisse:
now when I speake that which neither I my selfe thinke
to be true, nor would haue any other body beleeue,
it must needs be a great dissimulation, because I
meane nothing lesse then that I speake, and this maner
of speech is vsed, when either we would greatly aduaunce
or greatly abase the reputation of any thing or person,
and must be vsed very discreetly, or els it will seeme
And as a certaine noble Gentlewoman lamenting at the
vnkindnesse of her
louer said very pretily in this figure.
But since it will no better be,
My teares shall neuer blin:
To moist the earth in such degree,
That I may drowne therein:
That by my death all men may say,
Lo weemen are as true as they.
[Sidenote: Periphrasis, or
the Figure of ambage.]
Then haue ye the figure Periphrasis, holding
somewhat of the disembler, by reason of a secret intent
not appearing by the words, as when we go about the
bush, and will not in one or a few words expresse that
thing which we desire to haue knowen, but do chose
rather to do it by many words, as we our selues wrote
of our Soueraigne Lady thus:
Whom Princes serue, and Realmes obay,
And greatest of Bryton kings begot:
She came abroade euen yesterday,
When such as saw her, knew her not.
And the rest that followeth, meaning her Maiesties
person, which we would seeme to hide leauing her name
vnspoken to the intent the reader should gesse at
it: neuerthelesse vpon the matter did so manifestly
disclose it, as any simple iudgement might easily
perceiue by whom it was ment, that is by Lady Elizabeth,
Queene of England and daughter to king Henry the eight,
and therein resteth the dissimulation. It is one
of the gallantest figures among the poetes so it be
vsed discretely and in his right kinde, but many of
these makers that be not halfe their craftes maisters,
do very often abuse it and also many waies. For
if the thing or person they go about to describe by
circumstance, be by the writers improuidence otherwise
bewrayed, it looseth the grace of a figure, as he that
said:
The tenth of March when Aries receiued,
Dan Phoebus raies into his horned hed.
Intending to describe the spring of the yeare, which
euery man knoweth of himselfe, hearing the day of
March named: the verses be very good the figure
nought worth, if it were meant in Periphrase for the
matter, that is the season of the yeare which should
haue bene couertly disclosed by ambage, was by and
by blabbed out by naming the day of the moneth, & so
the purpose of the figure disapointed, peraduenture
it had bin better to haue said thus:
The month and date when Aries receiud,
Dan Phoebus raies into his horned head.
For now there remaineth for the Reader somewhat to studie and gesse vpon, and yet the spring time to the learned iudgement sufficiently expressed.
The Noble Earle of Surrey wrote thus:
In winters iust returne, when Boreas
gan his raigne,
And euery tree vnclothed him fast as nature
taught them plaine.
I would faine learne of some good maker, whether the Earle spake this in figure of Periphrase or not, for mine owne opinion I thinke that if he ment to describe the winter season, he would not haue disclosed it so broadly, as to say winter at the first worde, for that had bene against the rules of arte, and without any good iudgement: which in so learned & excellent a personage we ought not to suspect, we say therefore that for winter it is no Periphrase but language at large: we say for all that, hauing regard to the second verse that followeth it is a Periphrase, seeming that thereby he intended to shew in what part of the winter his loues gaue him anguish, that is in the time which we call the fall of the leafe, which begins in the moneth of October, and stands very well with the figure to be vttered in that sort notwithstanding winter be named before, for winter hath many parts: such namely as do not shake of the leafe, nor vncloth the trees as here is mentioned: thus may ye iudge as I do, that this noble Erle wrate excellently well and to purpose. Moreouer, when a maker will seeme to vse circumlocution to set forth any thing pleasantly
[Sidenote: Synecdoche, or the Figure of quick conceite.] Now for the shutting vp of this Chapter, will I remember you farther of that manner of speech which the Greekes call Synecdoche, and we the figure of [quicke conceite] who for the reasons before alleged, may be put under the speeches allegoricall, because of the darkenes and duplicitie of his sence: as when one would tell me how the French king was ouerthrowen at Saint Quintans. I am enforced to think that it was not the king himselfe in person, but the Constable of Fraunce with the French kings power. Or if one would say, the towne of Andwerpe were famished, it is not so to be taken, but of the people of the towne of Andwerp, and this conceit being drawen aside, and (as it were) from one thing to another, it encombers the minde with a certaine imagination what it may be that is meant, and not expressed: as he that said to a young gentlewoman, who was in her chamber making her selfe vnready. Mistresse will ye geue me leaue to vnlace your peticote, meaning (perchance) the other thing that might follow such vnlacing. In the olde time, whosoeuer was allowed to vndoe his Ladies girdle, he might lie with her all night: wherfore the taking of a womans maydenhead away, was said to vndoo her girdle. Virgineam dissoluit zonan, saith the Poet, conceiuing out of a thing precedent, a thing subsequent. This may suffice for the knowledge of this figure [quicke conceit.]
CHAP. XIX.
Of Figures sententious, otherwise called Rhetoricall.
Now if our presupposall be true that the Poet is of all other the most auncient Orator, as he that by good & pleasant perswasions first reduced the wilde and beastly people into publicke societies and ciuilitie of life, insinuating vnto them, vnder fictions with sweete and coloured speeches, many wholesome lessons and doctrines, then no doubt there is nothing so fitte for him, as to be furnished with all the figures that be Rhetoricall, and such as do most beautifie language with eloquence & sententiousnes. Therefore since we haue already allowed to our maker his auricular figures, and also his sensable, by which all the words and clauses of his meeters are made as well tunable to the eare, as stirring to the minde, we are now by order to bestow vpon him those other figures which may execute both offices, and all at once to beautifie and geue sence and sententiousnes to the whole language at large. So as if we should intreate our maker to play also the Orator, and whether it be to pleade, or to praise, or to aduise, that in all three cases he may vtter, and also perswade both copiously and vehemently.
And your figures rhethoricall, besides their remembered ordinarie vertues, that is, sententiousnes, & copious amplification, or enlargement of language, doe also conteine a certaine sweet and melodious manner of speech, in which respect, they may, after a sort, be said auricular: because the eare is no lesse rauished with their currant tune, than the mind is with their sententiousnes. For the eare is properly but an instrument of conueyance for the minde, to apprehend the sence by the sound. And our speech is made melodious or harmonicall, not onely by strayned tunes, as those of Musick, but also by choise of smoothe words: and thus, or thus, marshalling them in their comeliest construction and order, and aswell by sometimes sparing, sometimes spending them more or lesse liberally, and carrying or transporting of them farther off or neerer, setting them with sundry relations, and variable formes, in the ministery and vse of words, doe breede no little alteration in man. For to say truely, what els is man but his minde? which, whosoeuer haue skil to compasse, and make yeelding and flexible, what may not he commaund the body to perfourme? He therefore that hath vanquished the minde of man, hath made the greatest and most glorious conquest. But the minde is not assailable vnlesse it be by sensible approches, whereof the audible is of greatest force for instruction or discipline: the visible, for apprehension of exterior knowledges as the Philosopher saith. Therefore the well tuning of your words and clauses to the delight of the eare, maketh your information no lesse plausible to the minde than to the eare: no though you filled them with neuer so much sence and sententiousnes. Then also must the whole tale (if it tende to perswasion) beare his iust and reasonable measure, being rather with the largest, than with the scarcest. For like as one or two drops of water perce not the flint stone, but many and often droppings doo: so cannot a few words (be they neuer so pithie or sententious) in all cases and to all manner of mindes, make so deepe an impression, as a more multitude of words to the purpose discreetely, and without superfluitie vttered: the minde being no lesse vanquished with large loade of speech, than the limmes are with heauie burden. Sweetenes of speech, sentence and amplification, are therefore necessarie to an excellent Orator and Poet, ne may in no wise be spared from any of them.
And first of all others your figure that worketh by iteration or repetition of one word or clause doth much alter and affect the eare and also the mynde of the hearer, and therefore is counted a very braue figure both with the Poets and rhetoriciens, and this repetition may be in seuen sortes.
[Sidenote: Anaphora, or the
Figure of Report.]
Repetition in the first degree we call the figure
of Report according to the Greeke originall,
and is when we make one word begin, and as they are
wont to say, lead the daunce to many verses in sute,
as thus.
To thinke on death it is a miserie
To thinke on life it is a vanitie:
To thinke on the world verily it is,
To thinke that heare man hath no perfit
blisse.
And this written by Sir Walter Raleigh of his
greatest mistresse iin
most excellent verses.
In vayne mine eyes in vaine you wast
your teares,
In vayne my sighs the smokes of my despaires:
In vayne you search th’earth and
heauens aboue,
In vayne ye seeke, for fortune keeps my
loue.
Or as the buffon in our enterlude called Lustie
London said very
knauishly and like himselfe.
Many a faire lasse in London towne,
Many a bawdie basket borne up and downe:
Many a broker in a thridbare gowne.
Many a bankrowte scarce worth a crowne.
In London.
[Sidenote: Antistrophe, or
the Counter turne.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition quite contrary
to the former when ye make one word finish many verses
in sute, and that which is harder, to finish many
clauses in the middest of your verses or dittie (for
to make them finish the verse in our vulgar it should
hinder the rime) and because I do finde few of our
English makers vse this figure, I haue set you down
two litle ditties which our selues in our yonger yeares
played vpon the Antistrophe, for so is the
figures name in Greeke: one vpon the mutable
loue of a Lady, another vpon the meritorious loue of
Christ our Sauiour, thus.
Her lowly lookes, that gaue life to
my loue,
With spitefull speach, curstnesse and
crueltie:
She kild my loue, let her rigour remoue,
Her cherefull lights and speaches of pitie
Reuiue my loue: anone with great
disdaine,
She shunnes my loue, and after by a traine
She seekes my loue, and faith she loues
me most,
But seing her loue, so lightly wonne and
lost:
I longd not for her loue, for well I thought,
Firme is the loue, if it be as it ought.
The second vpon the merites of Christes passion toward
mankind, thus,
Our Christ the sonne of God, chief
authour of all good,
Was he by his allmight, that first created
man:
And with the costly price, of his most
precious bloud,
He that redeemed man: and by his
instance wan
Grace in the sight of God, his onely father
deare,
And reconciled man: and to make man
his peere
Made himselfe very man: brief to
conclude the case,
This Christ both God and man, he all and
onely is:
The man brings man to God and to all heauens
blisse.
The Greekes call this figure Antistrophe, the Latines, conuersio, I following the originall call him the counterturne, because he turnes counter in the middest of euery meetre.
[Sidenote: Symploche, or the
figure of replie.]
Take me the two former figures and put them into one,
and it is that which the Greekes call symploche,
the Latines complexio, or conduplicatio,
and is a maner of repetion, when one and the selfe
word doth begin and end many verses in sute & so wrappes
vp both the former figures in one, as he that sportingly
complained of his vntrustie mistresse, thus.
Who made me shent for her loues sake?
Myne owne mistresse.
Who would not seeme my part to take,
Myne owne mistresse.
What made me first so well content
Her curtesie.
What makes me now so sore repent
Her crueltie._
The Greekes name this figure Symploche, the Latins Complexio, perchaunce for that he seemes to hold in and to wrap vp the verses by reduplication, so as nothing can fall out. I had rather call him the figure of replie.
[Sidenote: Anadiplosis, or
the Redouble.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition when with the worde
by which you finish your verse, ye beginne the next
verse with the same, as thus:
Comforte it is for man to haue a wife,
Wife chast, and wise, and lowly all her
life.
Or thus:
Your beutie was the cause of my first
loue,
Looue while I liue, that I may sore repent.
The Greeks call this figure Anadiplosis, I call him the Redouble as the originall beares.
[Sidenote: Epanalepsis,
or the Eccho sound,
otherwise, the slow return.]
Ye haue an other sorte of repetition, when ye make
one worde both beginne and end your verse, which therefore
I call the slow retourne, otherwise the Eccho sound,
as thus:
Much must he be beloued, that loueth much,
Feare many must he needs, whom many feare.
Vnlesse I called him the eccho sound, I could not tell what name to giue him, vnlesse it were the slow returne.
[Sidenote: Epizeuxis, or the Vnderlay, or Coocko-spel.]
And this bemoaning the departure of a deere friend.
The chiefest staffe of mine assured
stay,
With no small griefe, is gon, is gon away.
And that of Sir Walter Raleighs very sweet.
With wisdomes eyes had but blind fortune
seene,
Than had my looue, my looue for euer beene.
The Greeks call him Epizeuxis, the Latines Subiunctio, we may call him the vnderlay, me thinks if we regard his manner of iteration, & would depart from the originall, we might very properly, in our vulgar and for pleasure call him the cuckowspell, for right as the cuckow repeats his lay, which is but one manner of note, and doth not insert any other tune betwixt, and sometimes for hast stammers out two or three of them one immediatly after another, as cuck, cuck, cuckow, so doth the figure Epizeuxis the former verses, Maryne, Maryne, without any intermission at all.
[Sidenote: Ploche, or the
Doubler.]
Yet haue ye one sorte of repetition, which we call
the doubler, and is as the next before, a speedie
iteration of one word, but with some little intermission
by inserting one or two words betweene, as in a most
excellent dittie written by Sir Walter Raleigh
these two closing verses:
Yet when I sawe my selfe to you was
true,
I loued my selfe, bycause my selfe loued
you.
And this spoken in common Prouerbe.
An ape wilbe an ape, by kinde as they
say,
Though that ye clad him all in purple
array.
Or as we once sported vpon a fellowes name who was
called Woodcock, and
for an ill part he had plaid entreated fauour by his
friend.
I praie you intreate no more for the
man,
Woodcocke wilbe a woodcocke do what ye
can.
Now also be there many other sortes of repetition
if a man would vse them,
but are nothing commendable, and therefore are not
obserued in good
poesie, as a vulgar rimer who doubled one word in
the end of euery verse,
thus:
adieu, adieu
my face, my face.
And an other that did the like in the beginning of
his verse, thus:
To loue him and loue him, as sinners
should doo.
These repetitions be not figuratiue but phantastical, for a figure is euer vsed to a purpose, either of beautie or of efficacie: and these last recited be to no purpose, for neither can ye say that it vrges affection, nor that it beautifieth or enforceth the sence, nor hath any other subtilitie in it, and therfore is a very foolish impertinency of speech, and not a figure.
[Sidenote: Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer.]
Ye haue a figure by which ye play with a couple of
words or names much resembling, and because the one
seemes to answere th’other by manner of illusion,
and doth, as it were, nick him, I call him the Nicknamer.
If any other man can geue him a fitter English name,
I will not be angrie, but I am sure mine is very neere
the origninall sense of the Prosonomasia, and
is rather a by-name geuen in sport, than a surname
geuen of any earnest purpose. As, Tiberius
the Emperor, because he was a great drinker of wine,
they called him by way of derision to his owne name
Caldius Biberius Mero, in steade of Claudius
Tiberius Nero: and so a iesting frier that
wrate against Erasmus, called him by resemblance
to his own Errans mus, and are mainteined by
this figure Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer.
But euery name geuen in iest or by way of a surname,
if it do not resemble the true, is not by this figure,
as, the Emperor of Greece, who was surnamed Constantinus
Cepronimus, because he beshit the foont at the
time he was christened: and so ye may see the
difference betwixt the figures Antonomasia
& Prosonomatia. Now when such resemblance
happens betweene words of another nature and not vpon
mens names, yet doeth the Poet or maker finde prety
sport to play with them in his verse, specially the
Comicall Poet and the Epigrammatist. Sir Philip
Sidney in a dittie plaide very pretily with these
two words, Loue and liue, thus.
And all my life I will confesse,
The lesse I loue, I liue the lesse.
And we in our Enterlude called the woer, plaid with
these two words,
lubber and louer, thus, the countrey clowne came &
woed a young maide of
the Citie, and being agreeued to come so oft, and
not to haue his answere,
said to the old nurse very impatiently.
[Sidenote: Woer.]
Iche pray you good mother tell our
young dame,
Whence I am come and what is my name,
I cannot come a woing euery day.
Quoth the nurse.
[Sidenote: Nurse.]
They be lubbers not louers that so
use to say.
Or as one replyed to his mistresse charging him with
some disloyaltie
towards her.
Proue me madame ere ye fall to reproue,
Meeke mindes should rather excuse than
accuse.
Here the words proue and reproue, excuse and accuse, do pleasantly encounter, and (as it were) mock one another by their much resemblance: and this is by the figure Prosonomatia, as wel as if they were mens proper names, alluding to each other.
[Sidenote Traductio, or the tranlacer.]
Then haue ye a figure which the Latines call Traductio,
and I the tranlacer: which is when ye turne and
tranlace a word into many sundry shapes as the Tailor
doth his garment, & after that sort do play with him
in your dittie: as thus,
Who liues in loue his life is full
of feares,
To lose his loue, liuelode or libertie
But liuely sprites that young and recklesse
be,
Thinke that there is no liuing like to
theirs.
Or as one who much gloried in his owne wit, whom Persius
taxed in a
verse very pithily and pleasantly, thus.
Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scire,
hoc sciat alter.
Which I haue turned into English, not so briefly,
but more at large of
purpose the better to declare the nature of the figure:
as thus,
Thou weenest thy wit nought worth if
other weet it not
As wel as thou thy selfe, but a thing
well I wot,
Who so in earnest weenes, he doth in mine
aduise,
Shew himselfe witlesse, or more wittie
than wise.
Here ye see how in the former rime this word life is tranlaced into liue, liuing, liuely, liuelode: & in the latter rime this word wit is translated into weete, weene, wotte, witlesse, witty & wise: which come all from one originall.
[Sidenote: Antipophora, or
Figure of responce.]
Ye haue a figuratiue speach which the Greeks cal Antipophora,
I name him the Responce, and is when we will
seeme to aske a question to th’intent we will
aunswere it our selues, and is a figure of argument
and also of amplification. Of argument, because
proponing such matter as our aduersarie might obiect
and then to answere it our selues, we do vnfurnish
and preuent him of such helpe as he would otherwise
haue vsed for himselfe: then because such obiection
and answere spend much language it serues as well
to amplifie and enlarge our tale. Thus for example.
We read that Crates the Philosopher Cinicke
in respect of the manifold
discommodities of mans life, held opinion that it
was best for man neuer
to haue bene borne or soone after to dye, [Optimum
non nasci vel cito
mori] of whom certaine verses are left written
in Greeke which I haue
Englished, thus.
What life is the liefest? the needy
is full of woe and awe,
The wealthie full of brawle and brabbles
of the law:
To be a married man? how much art thou
beguild,
Seeking thy rest by carke, for houshold
wife and child:
To till it is a toyle, to grase some honest
gaine,
But such as gotten is with great hazard
and paine:
The sayler of his shippe, the marchant
of his ware,
The souldier in armes, how full of dread
and care?
A shrewd wife brings thee bate, wiue not
and neuer thriue,
Children a charge, childlesse the greatest
lacke aliue:
Youth witlesse is and fraile, age sicklie
and forlorne,
Then better to dye soone, or neuer to
be borne.
Metrodorus the Philosopher Stoick was
of a contrary opinion, reuersing
all the former suppositions against Crates,
thus.
What life list ye to lead? in good
Citie and towne
Is wonne both wit and wealth, Court gets
vs great renowne,
Countrey keepes vs in heale, and quietnesse
of mynd,
Where holesome aires and exercise and
pretie sports we find:
Traffick it turnes to gaine, by land and
eke by seas,
The land-borned liues safe, the forriene
at his ease:
Housholder hath his home, the roge romes
with delight,
And makes moe merry meales, then dothe
the Lordly wight:
Wed and thost hast a bed, of solace and
of ioy,
Wed not and haue a bed, of rest without
annoy:
The setled loue is safe, sweete is the
loue at large,
Children they are a store, no children
are no charge,
Lustie and gay is youth, old age honourd
and wise:
Then not to dye or be unborne, is best
in myne aduise.
Edward Earle of Oxford a most noble & learned
Gentleman made in this
figure of responce an emble of desire otherwise called
Cupide which for
his excellencie and wit, I set downe some part of
the verses, for example.
When wert thou borne desire?
In pompe and pryme of May,
By whome sweete boy wert thou begot?
By good conceit men say,
Tell me who was they nurse?
Fresh youth in sugred ioy.
What was thy meate and dayly foode?
Sad sighes with great annoy.
What hast thou then to drinke?
Vnfayned louers teares.
What cradle wert thou rocked in?
In hope deuoyde of feares.
[Sidenote: Synteiosis, or
the Crosse copling.]
Ye haue another figure which me thinkes may well be
called (not much sweruing from his originall in sence)
the Crosse-couple, because it takes me two
contrary words, and tieth them as it were in a paire
of couples, and so makes them agree like good fellowes,
as I saw once in Fraunce a wolfe coupled with a mastiffe,
and a foxe with a hounde. Thus it is.
The niggards fault and the unthrifts
is all one,
For neither of them both knoweth how to
vse his owne.
Or thus.
The couetous miser, of all his goods
ill got,
Aswell wants that he hath, as that he
hath not.
In this figure of the Crosse-couple we wrate
for a forlorne louer
complaining of his mistresse crueltie these verses
among other.
Thus for your sake I daily dye,
And do but seeme to liue in deede:
Thus is my blisse but miserie,
My lucre losse without your meede.
[Sidenote: Atanaclasis, or the Rebounde.]
Ye haue another figure which by his nature we may
call the Rebound, alluding to the tennis ball
which being smitten with the racket reboundes backe
againe, and where the last figure before played with
two wordes somewhat like, this playeth with one word
written all alike but carrying diuers sences as thus.
The maide that soone married is, soone
marred is.
Or thus better because married & marred
be different in one letter.
To pray for you euer I cannot refuse,
To pray vpon you I should you much abuse.
Or as we once sported vpon a countrey fellow who came
to runne for the
best game, and was by his occupation a dyer and had
very bigge swelling
legges.
He is but course to runne a course,
Whose shankes are bigger then his thye:
Yet is his lucke a little worse,
That often dyes before he dye.
Where ye see this word course, and dye, vsed in diuers sences, one giuing the Rebounde vpon th’other.
[Sidenote: Clymax, or the
Marching figure.]
Ye haue a figure which as well by his Greeke and Latine
originals, & also by allusion to the maner of a mans
gate or going may be called the marching figure,
for after the first steppe all the rest proceeds by
double the space, and so in our speach one word proceedes
double to the first that was spoken, and goeth as
it were by strides or paces: it may aswell be
called the clyming figure, for Clymax
is as much to say as a ladder, as in one of our Epitaphes
shewing how a very meane man by his wisedome and good
forture came to great estate and dignitie.
His vertue made him wise, his wisedome
broght him wealth,
His wealth won many friends, his friends
made much supply:
Of aides in weale and woe in sicknesse
and in health,
Thus came he from a low, to sit in state
so hye.
Or as Ihean de Mehune the French Poet.
Peace makes plentie, plentie makes
pride,
Pride breeds quarrell, and quarrell brings
warre:
Warre brings spoile, and spoile pouertie,
Pouertie pacience, and pacience peace.
So peace brings warre, and warre brings
peace.
[Sidenote: Antimetauole, or
the Counterchange]
Ye haue a figure which takes a couple of words to
play with in a verse, and by making them to chaunge
and shift one into others place they do very pretily
exchange and shift the sence, as thus.
We dwell not here to build us boures,
And halles for pleasure and good cheare:
But halles we build for us and ours,
To dwell in then whilst we are here.
Meaning that we dwell not here to build, but we build
to dwel, as we liue
not to eate, but eate to liue, or thus.
We wish not peace to maintaine cruell
warre,
But we make warre to maintaine us in peace.
Or thus.
If Poesie be, as some haue said,
A speaking picture to the eye:
Then is a picture not denaid,
To be a muet Poesie.
Or as the Philosopher Musonius wrote.
With pleasure if we worke vnhonestly
and ill,
The pleasure passeth, the bad it bideth
still.
Well if we worke with trauaile and with
paines,
The paine passeth and still the good remaines.
A wittie fellow in Rome wrate vnder the Image of Caesar
the Dictator
these two verses in Latine, which because they are
spoke by this figure of
Counterchaunge I haue turned into a couple
of English verses very well
keeping the grace of the figure.
Brutus for casting out of kings, was
first of Consuls past,
Caesar for casting Consuls out, is of
our kings the last.
Cato of any Senatour not onely the grauest
but also the promptest and wittiest in any ciuill
scoffe, misliking greatly the engrossing of offices
in Rome that one should haue many at once, and a great
number goe without that were as able men, said thus
by Counterchaunge.
It seemes your offices are very litle
worth,
Or very few of you worthy of offices.
Againe:
In trifles earnest as any man can bee,
In earnest matters no such trifler as
hee.
[Sidenote: Insultatio, or
the Disdainefull.]
Yee haue another figure much like to the Sarcasimus,
or bitter taunt wee spake of before: and is when
with proud and insolent words, we do vpbraid a man,
or ride him as we terme it: for which cause the
Latines also call it Insultatio, I chose to
name him the Reproachfull or scorner,
as when Queene Dido saw, that for all her great
loue and entertainements bestowed vpon AEneas,
he would needs depart and follow the Oracle
of his destinies, she brake out in a great rage and
said disdainefully.
Hye thee, and by the wild waues and
the wind,
Seeke Italie and Realmes for thee to raigne,
If piteous Gods haue power amidst the
mayne,
On ragged rocks thy penaunce thou maist
find.
Or as the poet Iuuenall reproached the couetous
Merchant, who for lucres
sake passed on no perill either by land or sea, thus:
Goe now and giue thy life unto the
winde,
Trusting unto a piece of bruckle wood,
Foure inches from thy death or seauen
good
The thickest planke for shipboord that
we finde.
[Sidenote: Antitheton, or
the renconter]
Ye haue another figure very pleasnt and fit for amplification,
which to answer the Greeke terme, we may call the
encounter, but following the Latine name by reason
of his contentious nature, we may call him the Quarreller,
for so be al such persons as delight in taking the
contrary part of whatsoeuer shalbe spoken: when
I was scholler in Oxford they called euery such one
Iohannes ad oppositum.
Good haue I doone you, much, harme
did I neuer none,
Ready to ioy your gaines, your losses
to bemone,
Why therefore should you grutch so sore
as my welfare:
Who onely bred your blisse, and neuer
causd your care.
Or as it is in these two verses where one speaking
of Cupids bowe,
deciphered thereby the nature of sensual loue, whose
beginning is more
pleasant than the end, thus allegorically and by antitheton.
His bent is sweete, his loose is somewhat
sowre,
In ioy begunne, ends oft in wofull bowre.
Maister Diar in this quarelling figure.
Nor loue hath now the force, on me
which it ones had,
Your frownes can neither make me mourne,
nor fauors make me glad.
Socrates the Greek Oratour was a litle too full of this figure, & so was the Spaniard that wrote the life of Marcus Aurelius & many of our moderne writers in vulgar, vse it in excesse & incurre the vice of fond affectation: otherwise the figure is very commendable.
In this quarrelling figure we once plaid this merry
Epigrame of an
importune and shrewd wife, thus:
My neighbour hath a wife, not fit to
make him thriue,
But good to kill a quicke man, or make
a dead reuiue.
So shrewd she is for God, so cunning and
so wise,
To counter with her goodman, and all by
contraries.
For when he is merry, she lurcheth and
she loures,
When he is sad she singes, or laughes
it out by houres.
Bid her be still her tongue to talke shall
neuer cease,
When she should speake and please, for
spight she holds her peace,
Bid spare and she will spend, bid spend
she spares as fast,
What first ye would haue done, be sure
it shalbe last.
Say go, she comes, say come, she goes,
and leaues him all alone,
Her husband (as I thinke) calles her ouerthwart
Ione.
[Sidenote: Erotema, or the
Questioner.]
There is a kinde of figuratiue speach when we aske
many questions and looke for none answere, speaking
indeed by interrogation, which we might as well say
by affirmation. This figure I call the Questioner
or inquisitiue, as when Medea excusing her
great crueltie vsed in the murder of her owne children
which she had by Iason, said:
Was I able to make them I praie you
tell,
And am I not able to marre them all aswell?
Or as another wrote very commendably.
Why strive I with the streame, or hoppe
against the hill,
On search that neuer can be found, and
loose my labour still?
Cato vnderstanding that the Senate had appointed
three citizens of Rome for embassadours to the king
of Bithinia, whereof one had the Gowte, another
the Meigrim, the third very little courage or discretion
to be employd in any such businesse, said by way of
skoffe in this figure.
Must not (trowe ye) this message be
well sped,
That hath neither heart, nor heeles, nor
hed?
And as a great Princesse aunswered her seruitour,
who distrusting in her
fauours toward him, praised his owne constancie in
these verses.
No fortune base or frayle can alter
me:
To whome she in this figure repeting his words:
No fortune base or frayle can alter
thee.
And can so blind a witch so conquere mee?
[Sidenote: Ecphonisis, or
the Outcry.]
The figure of exclamation, I call him [the outcrie]
because it vtters our minde by all such words as do
shew any extreme passion, whether it be by way of
exclamation or crying out, admiration or wondering,
imprecation or cursing, obtestation or taking God
and the world to witnes, or any such like as declare
an impotent affection, as Chaucer of the Lady
Cresseida by exclamation.
O soppe of sorrow soonken into care,
O caytife Cresseid, for now and evermare.
Or as Gascoine wrote very passionatly and well
to purpose:
Ay me the dayes that I in dole consume,
Alas the nights which witnesse well mine
woe:
O wrongfull world which makest my fancie
faine
Fie fickle fortune, fie, fie thou art
my foe:
Out and alas so froward is my chance,
No nights nor daies, nor worldes can me
auance.
Petrarche in a sonet which Sir Thomas Wiat
Englished excellently well,
said in this figure by way of imprecation and obtestation:
thus,
Perdie I said it not,
Nor neuer thought to doo:
Aswell as I ye wot,
I haue no power thereto:
“And if I did the lot
That first did me enchaine,
May neuer shake the knot
But straite it to my paine.
“And if I did each thing,
That may do harme or woe:
Continually may wring,
My harte where so I goe.
“Report may alwaies ring:
Of shame on me for aye,
If in my hart did spring,
The wordes that you doo say.
“And if I did each starre,
That is in heauen aboue.
And so forth, &c.
[Sidenote: Brachiologa, or
the Cutted comma]
We vse sometimes to proceede all by single words,
without any close or coupling, sauing that a little
pause or comma is geuen to euery word. This figure
for pleasure may be called in our vulgar the cutted
comma, for that there cannot be a shorter diuision
then at euery words end. The Greekes in their
language call it short language, as thus.
Enuy, malice, flattery, disdaine,
Auarice, deceit, falsned, filthy gaine.
If this loose language be vsed, not in single words, but in long clauses, it is called Asindeton, and in both cases we vtter in that fashion, when either we be earnest, or would seeme to make hast.
[Sidenote: Parison, or the
Figure of euen]
Ye haue another figure which we may call the figure
of euen, because it goeth by clauses of egall quantitie,
and not very long, but yet not so short as the cutted
comma: and they geue good grace to a dittie, but
specially to a prose. In this figure we once wrote
in a melancholike humor these verses.
The good is geason, and short is his
abode,
The bad bides long, and easie to be found:
Our life is loathsome, our sinnes a heavy
lode,
Conscience a curst iudge, remorse a priuie
goade.
Disease, age and death still in our eare
they round,
That hence we must the sickly and the
sound:
Treading the steps that our forefathers
troad,
Rich, poore, holy, wise; all flesh it
goes to ground.
In a prose there should not be vsed at once of such euen clauses past three or foure at the most.
[Sidenote: Sinonimia, or the
Figure of store]
When so euer we multiply our speech by many words
or clauses of one sence, the Greekes call it Sinonimia,
as who would say like or consenting names: the
Latines hauing no fitte terme to giue him, called it
by a name of euent, for (said they) many words of
one nature and sence, one of them doth expound another.
And therefore they called this figure the [Interpreter]
I for my part had rather call him the figure of [store]
because plenty of one manner of thing in our vulgar
we call so. AEneas asking whether his Captaine
Orontes were dead or aliue, vsed this store
of speeches all to one purpose.
It he aliue,
Is he as I left him queauing and quick,
And hath he not yet geuen up the ghost,
Among the rest of those that I haue lost?
Or if it be in single words, then thus.
What is become of that beautifull face,
Those louely lookes, that fauour amiable,
Those sweete features, and visage full
of grace,
That countenance which is alonly able
To kill and cure?
Ye see that all these words, face, lookes, fauour,
features, visage,
countenance, are all in sence but all one. Which
store, neuerthelesse,
doeth much beautifie and inlarge the matter.
So said another.
My faith, my hope, my trust, my God
and eke my guide,
Stretch forth thy hand to saue the soule,
what ere the body bide.
Here faith, hope and trust be words of one effect, allowed to vs by this figure of store.
[Sidenote: Metanoia, or the Penitent.]
Otherwhiles we speake and be sorry for it, as if we
had not wel spoken, so that we seeme to call in our
word againe, and to put in another fitter for the
purpose: for which respects the Greekes called
this manner of speech the figure of repentance:
then for that vpon repentance commonly followes amendment,
the Latins called it the figure of correction, in that
the speaker seemeth to reforme that which was said
amisse. I following the Greeke originall, choose
to call him the penitent, or repentant: and singing
in honor of the mayden Queen, meaning to praise her
for her greatnesse of courage ouershooting my selfe,
called it first by the name of pride: then fearing
least fault might be found with that terme, by & by
turned this word pride to praise: resembling her
Maiesty to the Lion, being her owne noble armory,
which by a slie construction purporteth magnanimitie.
Thus in the latter end of a Parthemiade.
O peereles you, or els no one aliue,
Your pride serues you to seaze them all
alone:
Not pride madame, but praise of the lion,
To conquer all and be conquerd by none.
And in another Parthemiade thus insinuating her Maiesties
great constancy
in refusall of all marriages offred her, thus:
Her heart is hid none may it see,
Marble or flinte folke weene it be.
Which may imploy rigour and cruelty, than correcteth
it thus.
Not flinte I trowe I am a lier,
But Siderite that feeles no fire.
By which is intended, that it proceeded of a cold and chast complexion not easily allured to loue.
[Sidenote: Antenagoge, or
the Recompencer]
We haue another manner of speech much like to the
repentant, but doth not as the same recant
or vnsay a word that hath bene said before, putting
another fitter in his place, but hauing spoken any
thing to depraue the matter or partie, he denieth
it not, but as it were helpeth it againe by another
more fauourable speach and so seemeth to make amends,
for which cause it is called by the originall name
in both languages, the Recompencer, as he that
was merily asked the question; whether his wife were
not a shrewe as well as others of his neighbours wiues,
answered in this figure as pleasantly, for he could
not well denie it.
I must needs say, that my wife is a
shrewe,
but such a huswife as I know but a fewe.
Another in his first preposition giuing a very faint
commendation to the
Courtiers life, weaning to make him amends, made it
worse by a second
proposition, thus:
The Courtiers life full delicate it
is,
but where no wise man will euer set his
blis.
And an other speaking to the incoragement of youth
in studie and to be
come excellent in letters and armies, said thus:
Many are the paines and perils to be
past,
But great is the gaine and glory at the
last.
[Sidenote: Epithonema, or
the Surclose.]
Our poet in his short ditties, but specially playing
the Epigrammatist will vse to conclude and shut vp
his Epigram with a verse or two, spoken in such sort,
as it may seeme a manner of allowance to all the premisses,
and that wich a ioyfull approbation, which the Latines
call Acclamatio, we therefore call this figure
the surcloze or consenting close, as
Virgill when he had largely spoken of Prince
Eneas his successe and fortunes concluded with
this close.
Tant molis erat Romanum condere gentens.
In English thus:
So huge a peece of worke it was and
so hie,
To reare the house of Romane progenie.
Sir Philip Sidney very pretily closed vp a
dittie in this sort.
What medcine then, can such disease
remoue,
Where loue breedes hate, and hate engenders
loue.
And we in a Partheniade written of her Maiestie,
declaring to what
perils vertue is generally subiect, and applying that
fortune to her
selfe, closed it vp with this Epiphoneme.
Than if there bee,
Any so cancard hart to grutch,
At your glories: my Queene:
in vaine,
Repining at your fatall raigne;
It is for that they feele too much,
Of your bountee.
As who would say her owne ouermuch lenitie and goodness, made her ill willers the more bold and presumptuous.
Lucretius Carus the philosopher and poet inueighing
sore against the abuses of the superstitious religion
of the Gentils, and recompting the wicked fact of
king Agamemnon in sacrificing his only daughter
Iphigenia, being a yoong damsell of excellent
bewtie, to th’intent to please the wrathfull
gods, hinderers of his nauigation, after he had said
all, closed it vp in this one verse, spoken in Epiphonema.
Tantum relligio potuit suadere malorum.
In English thus:
Lo what an outrage, could cause to
be done,
The peevish scruple of blinde religion.
[Sidenote: Auxesis, or the
Auancer]
It happens many times that to vrge and enforce the
matter we speake of, we go still mounting by degrees
and encreasing our speech with wordes or with sentences
of more waight one then another, & is a figure of great
both efficacie & ornament, as he that declaring the
great calamitie of an infortunate prince, said thus:
He lost besides his children and his
wife,
His realme, ronowne, liege, libertie and
life.
By which it appeareth that to any noble Prince the
losse of his estate ought not to be so greeuous, as
of his honour, nor any of them both like to the lacke
of his libertie, but that life is the dearest detriment
of any other. We call this figure by the Greeke
originall the Auancer or figure of encrease
because every word that is spoken is one of more weight
then another. And as we lamented the crueltie
of an inexorable and unfaithfull mistresse.
If by the lawes of love it be a falt,
The faithfull friend, in absence to forget:
But if it be (once do thy heart but halt,)
A secret sinne: what forfet is so
great:
As by despute in view of every eye,
The solemne vowes oft sworne with teares
so salt,
As holy Leagues fast seald with hand and
hart:
For to repeale and breake so wilfully?
But now (alas) without all iust desart,
My lot is for my troth and much goodwill,
To reape disdaine, hatred and rude refuse,
Or if ye would worke me some greater ill:
And of myne earned ioyes to feele no part,
What els is this (o cruell) but to vse,
Thy murdring knife to guiltlesse bloud
to spill.
Where ye see how she is charged first with a fault,
then with a secret
sinne, afterward with a foule forfet, last of all
with a most cruel &
bloudy deede. And thus againe in a certaine lovers
complaint made to the
like effect.
They say it is a ruth to see thy lover
neede,
But you can see me weepe, but you can
see me bleede:
And neuer shrinke nor shame, ne shed no
teare at all,
You make my wounds your selfe, and fill
them up with gall:
Yea you can see me sound, and faint for
want of breath,
And gaspe and grone for life, and struggle
still with death,
What can you now do more, sweare by your
maydenhead,
The for to flea me quicke, or strip me
being dead.
In these verses you see how one crueltie surmounts another by degrees till it come to very slaughter and beyond, for it is thought a despite done to a dead carkas to be an euidence of greater crueltie then to haue killed him.
[Sidenote: Meiosis, or the
Disabler.]
After the Auancer followeth the abbaser working by
wordes and sentences of extenuation or diminution.
Whereupon we call him the Disabler or figure
of Extenuation: and this extenuation is
vsed to diuers purposes, sometimes for modesties sake,
and to auoide the opinion of arrogancie, speaking
of our selues or of ours, as he that disabled himselfe
to his mistresse thus.
Not all the skill I haue to speake
or do,
Which litle is God wot (set loue apart:)
Liueload nor life, and put them both thereto,
Can counterpeise the due of your desart.
It may be also be done for despite to bring our aduersaries
in contempt,
as he that sayd by one (commended for a very braue
souldier) disabling him
scornefully, thus.
A iollie man (forsooth) and fit for
the warre,
Good at hand grippes, better to fight
a farre:
Whom bright weapon in shew as is said,
Yea his owne shade; hath often made afraide.
The subtilitie of the scoffe lieth in these Latin wordes [eminus & cominus pugnare.] Also we vse this kind of Extenuation when we take in hand to comfort or cheare any perillous enterprise, making a great matter seeme small, and of litle difficultie, & is much vsed by captaines in the warre, when they (to giue courage to their souldiers) will seeme to disable the persons of their enemies, and abase their forces, and make light of euery thing than might be a discouragement to the attempt, as Hanniball did in his Oration to his souldiers, when they should come to passe the Alpes to enter Italie, and for sharpnesse of the weather, and steepnesse of the mountaines their hearts began to faile them.
We vse it againe to excuse a fault, & to make an offence seeme lesse then it is, by giuing a terme more fauorable and of lesse vehemencie then the troth requires, as to say of a great robbery, that it was but a pilfry matter: of an arrant ruffian that he is a tall fellow of his hands: of a prodigall foole, that he is a kind hearted man: of a notorious vnthrift, a lustie youth, and such like phrases of extenuation, which fall more aptly to the office of the figure Curry fauell before remembred.
And we vse the like termes by way of pleasant familiaritie,
and as it were for Courtly maner of speach with our
egalls or inferiours, as to call a young Gentlewoman
Mall for Mary, Nell for Elner:
Iack for Iohn_, Robin for Robert:
or any other like affected termes spoken of pleasure,
as in our triumphals calling familiarly vpon our Muse,
I called her Moppe.
But will you weet,
My litle muse, nay prettie moppe:
If we shall algates change our stoppe,
Chose me a sweet.
Vnderstanding by this word (Moppe) a litle prety Lady, or tender young thing. For so we call litle fishes, that be not come to their full growth (moppes), as whiting moppes, gurnard moppes.
Also such termes are vsed to be giuen in derision and for a kind of contempt, as when we say Lording for Lord, & as the Spaniard that calleth an Earle of small reuenue Contadilio: the Italian calleth the poore man by contempt pouerachio or pouerino, the little beast animalculo or animaluchio, and such like diminutiues appertaining to this figure, the (Disabler) more ordinary in other languages than our vulgar.
[Sidenote: Epanodis, or the
figure of Retire]
This figure of retire holds part with the propounder
of which we spake before(prolepsis) because
of the resumption of a former proposition vuttered
in generalitie to explane the same better by a particular
diuision. But their difference is, in that the
propounder resumes but the matter only. This
[retire] resumes both the matter and the termes,
and is therefore accompted one of the figures of repetition,
and in that respect may be called by his originall
Greeke name the [Resounde] or the [retire]
for this word [Greek: illegible] serues both sences
resound and retire. The vse of this figure, is
seen in this dittie following,
Loue hope and death, do stirre in me
much strife,
As neuer man but I lead such a life:
For burning loue doth wound my heart to
death:
And when death comes at call of inward
grief,
Cold lingring hope doth feede my fainting
breath:
Against my will, and yeelds my wound relief,
So that I liue, but yet my life is such:
As neuer death could greeue me halfe so
much.
[Sidenote: Dialisis, or the
Dismembrer.]
Then haue ye a maner speach, not so figuratiue as
fit for argumentation, and worketh not vnlike the
dilemma of the Logicians, because he propones
two or moe matters entierly, and doth as it were set
downe the whole tale or rekoning of an argument and
then cleare euery part by it selfe, as thus.
It can not be but nigarsdship or neede,
Made him attempt this foule and wicked
deede:
Nigardship not, for alwayes he was free,
Nor neede, for who doth not his richesse
see?
Or as one than entreated for a faire young maide who
was taken by the
watch in London and carried to Bridewell to be punished.
Now gentill Sirs let this young maide
alone,
For either she hath grace or els she hath
none:
If she haue grace, she may in time repent,
If she haue none what bootes her punishment.
Or as another pleaded his deserts with his mistresse.
Were it for grace, or els in hope of
gaine,
To say of my deserts, it is but vaine:
For well in minde, in case ye do them
beare,
To tell them oft, it should but irke your
eare:
Be they forgot: as likely should
I faile,
To winne with wordes, where deedes can
not preuaile.
[Sidenote: Merismus, or the Distributer.]
Then haue ye a figure very meete for Orators or eloquent
perswaders such as our maker or Poet must in some
cases shew him selfe to be, and is when we may coueniently
vtter a matter in one entier speach or proportion and
will rather do it peecemeale and by distrbution of
euery part for amplification sake, as for example
he that might say, a house was outragiously plucked
downe: will not be satisfied so to say, but rather
will speake it in this sort: they first vndermined
the groundsills, they beate downe the walles, they
vnfloored the loftes, they vntiled it and pulled downe
the roofe. For so in deede is a house pulled downe
by circumstances, which this figure of distribution
doth set forth euery one apart, and therefore I name
him the distributor according to his originall,
as wrate the Tuscane Poet in a Sonet which Sir
Thomas Wyat translated with very good grace,
thus.
Set me whereas the sunne doth parch
the greene,
Or where his beames do not dissolue the
yce:
In temperate heate where he is felt and
seene,
In presence prest of people mad or wise:
Set me in hye or yet in low degree,
In longest night or in the shortest day:
In clearest skie, or where clouds thickest
bee,
In lustie youth or when my heares are
gray:
Set me in heauen, in earth or els in hell,
In hill or dale or in the foaming flood:
Thrall or at large, aliue where so I dwell,
Sicke or in health, in euill fame or good:
Hers will I be, and onely with this thought,
Content my selfe, although my chaunce
be naught.
All which might haue been said in these two verses.
Set me wherefoeuer ye will
I am and wilbe yours still.
The zealous Poet writing in prayse of the maiden Queene
would not seeme to
wrap vp all her most excellent parts in a few words
them entierly
comprehending, but did it by a distributor or merismus
in the negatiue
for the better grace, thus.
Not your bewtie, most gracious soueraine,
Nor maidenly lookes, mainteind with maiestie:
Your stately port, which doth not match
but staine,
For your presence, your pallace and your
traine,
All Princes Courts, mine eye could euer
see:
Not of your quicke wits, your sober gouernaunce:
Your cleare forsight, your faithfull memorie,
So sweete features, in so staid countenaunce:
Nor languages, with plentuous utterance,
So able to discourse, and entertaine:
Not noble race, farre beyond Caesars raigne,
Runne in right line, and bloud of nointed
kings:
Not large empire, armies, treasurs, domaine,
Lustie liueries, of fortunes dearst darlings:
Not all the skilles, fit for a Princely
dame,
Your learned Muse, with vse and studie
brings.
Not true honour, ne that immortall fame
Of mayden raigne, your only owne renowne
And no Queenes els, yet such as yeeldes
your name
Greater glory than doeth your treble crowne.
And then concludes thus.
Not any one of all these honord parts
Your Princely happes, and habites that
do moue,
And, as it were, ensorcell all the hearts
Of Christen kings to quarrell for your
loue,
But to possesse, at once and all the good
Arte and engine, and euery starre aboue
Fortune or kinde, could farce in flesh
and bloud,
Was force inough to make so many striue
For your person, which in our world stoode
By all consents the minionst mayde to
wiue.
Where ye see that all the parts of her commendation
which were
particularly remembred in twenty verses before, are
wrapt vp in the two
verses of this last part, videl.
Not any one of all your honord parts,
Those Princely haps and habites, &c.
This figure serues for amplification, and also for
ornament, and to
enforce perswasion mightely. Sir Geffrey Chaucer,
father of our English
Poets, hath these verses following in the distributor.
When faith failes in Priestes sawes,
And Lords hestes are holden for lawes,
And robberie is tane for purchase,
And lechery for solace
Then shall the Realme of Albion
Be brought to great confusion.
Where he might haue said as much in these words:
when vice abounds, and
vertue decayeth in Albion, then &c. And as another
said,
When Prince for his people is wakefull
and wise,
Peeres ayding with armes, Counsellors
with aduise,
Magistrate sincerely vsing his charge,
People prest to obey, nor let to runne
at large,
Prelate of holy life, and with deuotion
Preferring pietie before promotion,
Priest still preaching, and praying for
our heale:
Then blessed is the state of a common-weale.
All which might haue bene said in these few words, when euery man in charge and authoritie doeth his duety, & executeth his function well, then is the common-wealth happy.
[Sidenote: Epimone, or the Loue burden.]
The Greeke Poets who made musicall ditties to be song
to the lute or harpe, did vse to linke their staues
together with one verse running throughout the whole
song by equall distance, and was, for the most part,
the first verse of the staffe, which kept so good sence
and conformitie with the whole, as his often repetition
did geue it greater grace. They called such linking
verse Epimone, the Latines versus intercalaris,
and we may terme him the Loue-burden, following the
originall, or if it please you, the long repeate:
in one respect because that one verse alone beareth
the whole burden of the song according to the originall:
in another respect, for that it comes by large distances
to be often repeated, as in this ditty made by the
noble knight Sir Philip Sidney,
My true loue hath my heart and I haue
his,
By iust exchange one for another geuen:
I holde his deare, and mine he cannot
Page 140
misse,
There neuer was a better bargaine driuen.
My true loue hath my heart
and I haue his.
My heart in me keepes him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and sences
guides:
He loues my heart, for once it was his
owne,
I cherish his because in me it bides.
My true loue hath my heart,
and I haue his.
[Sidenote: Paradoxon, or the
Wondrer.]
Many times our Poet is caried by some occasion to
report of a thing that is maruelous, and then he will
seeme not to speake it simply but with some signe
of admiration, as in our enterlude called the Woer.
I woonder much to see so many husbands
thriue,
That haue but little wit, before they
come to wiue:
For one would easily weene who so hath
little wit,
His wife to teach it him, were a thing
much unfit.
Or as Cato the Romane Senatour said one day
merily to his companion that
walked with him, pointing his finger to a yong vnthrift
in the streete who
lately before had sold his patrimonie, of a goodly
quantitie of salt
marshes, lying neere vnto Capua shore.
Now is it not, a wonder to behold,
Yonder gallant skarce twenty winter old,
By might (marke ye) able to do more
Than the mayne sea that batters on his
shore?
For what the waues could neuer wash away,
This proper youth hath wasted in a day.
[Sidenote: Aporia, or the
Doubtfull.]
Not much vnlike the wondrer haue ye another
figure called the doubtfull, because oftentimes
we will seeme to cast perils, and make doubt or things
when by a plaine manner of speech wee might affirme
or deny him, as thus of a cruell mother who murdred
her owne child.
Whether the cruell mother were more
to blame,
Or the shrewd childe come of so curst
a dame:
Or whether some smatch of the fathers
blood,
Whose kinne were neuer kinde, nor neuer
good.
Mooued her thereto &c.
[Sidenote: Epitropis, or the
Figure of Reference.]
This manner of speech is vsed when we will not seeme,
either for manner sake or to auoid tediousnesse, to
trouble the iudge or hearer with all that we could
say, but hauing said inough already, we referre the
rest to their consideration, as he that said thus:
Me thinkes that I haue said, what may
well suffise,
Referring all the rest, to your better
aduise.
[Sidenote: Parisia, or the
Licentious.]
The fine and subtill perswader when his intent is
to sting his aduersary, or els to declare his mind
in broad and liberal speeches, which might breede
offence or scandall, he will seeme to bespeake pardon
before hand, whereby his licentiousnes may be the
better borne withall, as he that said:
If my speech hap t’offend you
any way,
Thinke it their fault, that force me so
to say.
[Sidenote: Anachinosis, or
the Impartener.]
Not much vnlike to the figure of reference,
is there another with some little diuersitie which
we call the impartener, because many times in
pleading and perswading, we thinke it a very good policie
to acquaint our iudge or hearer or very aduersarie
with some part of our Counsell and aduice, and to
aske their opinion, as who would say they could not
otherwise thinke of the matter then we do. As
he that had tolde a long tale before certaine noblewomen
of a matter somewhat in honour touching the Sex:
Tell me faire Ladies, if the case were
your owne,
So foule a fault would you haue it be
knowen?
Maister Gorge in this figure, said very sweetly,
All you who read these lines and skanne
of my desart,
Iudge whether was more good, my hap or
els my hart.
[Sidenote: Paramologia, or
the figure of Admittance.]
The good Orator vseth a manner of speach in his perswasion
and is when all that should seeme to make against
him being spoken by th’other side, he will first
admit it, and in th’end auoid all for his better
aduantage, and this figure is much vsed by our English
pleaders in the Starchamber and Chancery, which they
call to confesse and auoid, if it be in case of crime
or iniury, and is a very good way. For when the
matter is so plaine that it cannot be denied or trauersed,
it is good that it be iustified by confessall and
auoidance. I call it the figure of admittance.
As we once wrate to the reproofe of a Ladies faire
but crueltie.
I know your witte, I know your pleasant
tongue,
Your some sweet smiles, your some, but
louely lowrs:
A beautie to enamour olde and yong.
Those chast desires, that noble minde
of yours,
And that chiefe part whence all your honor
springs,
A grace to entertaine the greatest kings.
All this I know: but sinne it is
to see,
So faire partes spilt by too much crueltie.
[Sidenote: Etiologia, or the Reason rent, or the Tellcause.] In many cases we are driuen for better perswasion to tell the cause that mooues vs to say thus or thus: or els when we would fortifie our allegations by rendring reasons to euery one, this assignation of cause the Greekes called Etiologia, which if we might without scorne of a new inuented terme call [Tellcause] it were right according to the Greeke originall: & I pray you why should we not? and with as good authoritie as the Greekes? Sir Thomas Smith, her Maiesties principall Secretary, and a man of great learning and grauitie, seeking to geue an English word to this Greeke word [Greek: illegible] called it Spitewed or wedspite. Master Secretary Wilson gueing an English name to his arte of Logicke, called it Witcraft, me thinke I may be bolde with like liberty to call the figure Etiologia [Tellcause.] And this manner
And this.
Good is the thing that moues vs to
desire,
That is to say the beauty we behold:
Els were we louers as in an endlesse fire,
Alwaies burning and euer chill a colde.
And in these verses.
Accused though I be without desart,
Sith none can proue beleeue it not for
true:
For neuer yet since first ye had my hart,
Entended I to false or be untrue.
And in this Disticque.
And for her beauties praise, no right
that with her warres:
For where she comes she shewes her selfe
like sun among the stars.
And in this other dittie of ours where the louer complaines
of his Ladies
crueltie, rendring for euery surmise a reason, and
by telling the cause,
seeketh (as it were) to get credit, thus.
Cruel you be who can say nay,
Since ye delight in others wo:
Vnwise am I, ye may well say,
For that I haue, honourd you so.
But blamelesse I, who could not chuse
To be enchaunted by your eye:
But ye to blame, thus to refuse
My seruice, and to let me die.
[Sidenote: Dichologia, or
the Figure of excuse.]
Sometimes our error is so manifest, or we be so hardly
prest with our aduersaries, as we cannot deny the
fault layd vnto our charge: in which case it
is good pollicie to excuse it by some allowable pretext,
as did one whom his mistresse burdened with some vnkindne
speeches which he had past of her, thus.
I said it: but by lapse of lying
tongue,
When furie and iust griefe my heart opprest:
I sayd it: as ye see, both fraile
and young,
When your rigor had ranckled in my brest.
The cruell wound that smarted me so sore,
Pardon therefore (sweete sorrow) or at
least
Beare with mine youth that neuer fell
before,
Least your offence encrease my griefe
the more.
And againe in these,
I spake amysse I cannot it deny.
But caused by your great discourtesie:
And if I said that which I now repent,
And said it not, but by misgouernment
Of youthfull yeres, your selfe that are
so young
Pardon for once this error of my tongue,
And thinke amends can neuer come to late:
Loue may be curst, but loue can neuer
hate.
[Sidenote: Noema, or the Figure of close conceit.] Speaking before of the figure [Synechdoche] wee called him [Quicke conceit] because he inured in a single word onely by way of intendment or large meaning, but such as was speedily discouered by euery quicke wit, as by the halfe to vnderstand the whole, and many other waies appearing by the examples. But by this figure [Noema] the obscurity of the sence lieth not in a single word, but in an entier speech, whereof we do not so easily conceiue the meaning, but as it were by coniecture, because it is wittie and subtile or darke, which makes me therefore call him in our vulgar the [Close conceit] as he that said by himselfe and his wife, I thanke God in fortie winters that we haue liued together, neuer any of our neighbours set vs at one, meaning that they neuer fell out in all that space, which had bene the directer speech and more apert, and yet by intendment amounts all to one, being neuerthelesse dissemblable and in effect contrary. Pawlet Lord Treasorer of England, and first Marques of Winchester, with the like subtill speech gaue a quippe to Sir William Gifford, who had married the Marques sister, and all her life time cound neuer loue her nor like of her company, but when she was dead made the greatest moane for her in the world, and with teares and much lamentation vttered his griefe to the L. Treasorer, o good brother, quoth the Marques, I am right sory to see you now loue my sister so well, meaning that he shewed his loue too late, and should haue done it while she was aliue.
A great counsellour somewhat forgetting his modestie, vsed these words: Gods lady I reckon my selfe as good a man as he you talke of, and yet I am not able to do so. Yea sir quoth the party, your L. is too good to be a man, I would ye were a Saint, meaning he would he were dead, for none are shrined for Saints before they be dead.
[Sidenote: Orismus, or the Definer of difference.] The Logician vseth a definition to expresse the truth or nature of euery thing by his true kinde and difference, as to say wisedome is a prudent and wittie foresight and consideration of humane or worldly actions with their euentes. This definition is Logicall. The Oratour vseth another maner of definition, thus: Is this wisedome? no it is a certaine subtill knauish craftie wit, it is no industrie as ye call it, but a certaine busie brainsicknesse, for industrie is a liuely and vnweried search and occupation in honest things, egernesse is an appetite in base and small matters.
[Sidenote: Procatalepsis,
or the presumptuous,
otherwise the figure of Presupposall.]
It serueth many times to great purpose to preuent
our aduersaries arguments, and take vpon vs to know
before what our iudge or aduersary or hearer thinketh,
and that we will seeme to vtter it before it be spoken
or alleaged by them, in respect of which boldnesse
to enter so deepely into another mans conceit or conscience,
and to be so priuie of another mans mynde, gaue cause
that this figure was called the [presumptuous]
I will also call him the figure of presupposall
or the preuenter, for by reason we suppose
before what may be said, or perchaunce would be said
by our aduersary or any other, we do preuent them
of their aduantage, and do catch the ball (as they
are wont to say) before it come to the ground.
[Sidenote: Paralepsis, or
the Passager.]
It is also very many times vsed for a good pollicie
in pleading or perswasion to make wise as if we set
but light of the matter, and that therefore we do
passe it ouer lightly when in deede we do then intend
most effectually and despightfully if it be inuectiue
to remember it: it is also when we will not seeme
to know a thing, and yet we know it well inough, and
may be likened to the maner of women, who as the common
saying is, will say nay and take it.
I hold my peace and will not say for
shame,
The much vntruth of that vnciuill dame:
For if I should her coullours kindly blaze,
It would so make the chast eares amaze,
&c.
[Sidenote: Commoratio, or the figure of abode.] It is said by maner of a prouerbiall speach that he who findes himselfe well should not wagge, euen so the perswader finding a substantiall point in his matter to serue his purpose, should dwell upon that point longer then vpon any other lesse assured, and vse all endeuour to maintaine that one, & as it were to make his chief aboad thereupon, for which cause I name him the figure of aboad, according to the Latine name: Some take it not but for a course of argument & therefore hardly may one giue any examples thereof.
[Sidenote: Metastasis, or the Flitting figure, or the Remoue.] Now as arte and good pollicy in perswasion bids vs to abide & not to stirre from the point of our most aduantage, but the same to enforce and tarry vpon with all possible argument, so doth discretion will vs sometimes to flit from one matter to another, as a thing meete to be forsaken, and another entred vpon, I call him therefore the flitting figure, or figure of remoue, like as the other before was called the figure of aboade.
[Sidenote: Parecuasis, or the Stragler.] Euen so againe, as it is wisdome for a perswader to tarrie and make his aboad as long as he may conueniently without tediousness to the hearer, vpon his chiefe proofes or points of the cause tending to his aduantage, and likewise to depart againe when time serues, and goe to a new matter seruing the purpose aswell. So is it requisite many times for him to talke farre from the principall matter, and as it were to range aside, to th’intent by such extraordinary meane to induce or inferre other matter, aswell or better seruing the principal purpose, and neuertheles in season to returne home where he first strayed out. This maner of speech is termed the figure of digression by the Latines, following the Greeke originall, we also call him the straggler_ by allusion to the souldier that marches out of his array, or by those that keepe no order in their marche, as the battailes well ranged do: of this figure there need be geuen no example.
[Sidenote: Expeditio, or the
speedie dispatcher.]
Occasion offers many times that our maker as an oratour,
or perswader, or pleader should go roundly to worke,
and by a quick and swift argument dispatch his perswasion,
& as they are woont to say not stand all day trifling
to no purpose, but to rid it out of the way quickly.
This is done by a manner of speech, both figuratiue
and argumentatiue, when we do briefly set down all
our best reasons seruing the purpose and reiect all
of them sauing one, which we accept to satisfie the
cause: as he that in a litigious case for land
would prooue it not the aduersaries, but his clients.
No man can say its his by heritage,
Nor by Legacie, or Testatours deuice:
Nor that it came by purchase or engage,
Nor from his Prince for any good seruice.
Then needs must it be his by very wrong,
Which he hath offred this poore plaintife
so long.
Though we might call this figure very well and properly
the [Paragon] yet dare I not so to doe for
feare of the Courtiers enuy, who will haue no man
vse that terme but after a courtly manner, that is,
in praysing of horses, haukes, hounds, pearles, diamonds,
rubies, emerodes, and other precious stones:
specially of faire women whose excellencie is discouered
by paragonizing or setting one to another, which moued
the zealous Poet, speaking of the mayden Queene, to
call her the paragon of Queenes. This considered,
I will let our figure enioy his best beknowen name,
and call him stil in all ordinarie cases the figure
of comparison: as when a man wil seeme to make
things appeare good or bad, or better or worse, or
more or lesse excellent, either vpon spite or for
pleasure, or any other good affection, then he sets
the lesse by the greater, or the greater to the lesse,
the equall to his equall, and by such confronting of
them together, driues out the true ods that is betwixt
them, and makes it better appeare, as when we sang
of our Soueraigne Lady thus, in the twentieth Partheniade.
As falcon fares to bussards flight,
As egles eyes to owlates sight,
As fierce saker to coward kite,
As brightest noone to darkest night:
As summer sunne exceedeth farre,
The moone and euery other starre:
So farre my Princesse praise doeth passe,
The famoust Queene that euer was.
And in the eighteene Partheniade thus.
Set rich rubie to red esmayle,
The rauens plume to peacocks tayle,
Lay me the larkes to lizards eyes,
The duskie cloude to azure skie,
Set shallow brookes to surging seas,
An orient pearle to a white pease.
&c. Concluding.
There shall no lesse an ods be seene
In mine from euery other Queene.
[Sidenote: Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.] We are sometimes occasioned in our tale to report some speech from another mans mouth, as what a king said to his priuy counsel or subiect, a captaine to his souldier, a souldiar to his captaine, a man to a woman, and contrariwise: in which report we must always geue to euery person his fit and naturall, & that which best becommeth him. For that speech becommeth a king which doth not a carter, and a young man that doeth not an old: and so, in euery sort and degree. Virgil speaking in the person of Eneas, Turnus and many other great Princes, and sometimes of meaner men, ye shall see what decencie euery of their speeches holdeth with the qualitie, degree and yeares of the speaker. To which examples I will for this time referre you.
So if by way of fiction we will seem to speake in another mans person, as if king Henry the eight were aliue, and should say of the towne of Bulleyn, what we by warretime hazard of our person hardly obteined, our young sonne without any peril at all, for little mony deliuered vp againe. Or if we should faine king Edward the thirde, vnderstanding how his successour Queene Marie had lost the towne of Calays by negligence, should say: That which the sword wanne, the distaffe hath lost. This manner of speech is by the figure Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.
[Sidenote: Gnome, or the Director.] In waightie causes and for great purposes, wise perswaders vse graue & weighty speaches, specially in matter of aduise or counsel, for which purpose there is a maner of speach to alleage textes or authorities of wittie sentence, such as smatch morall doctrine and teach wisedome and good behauiour, by the Greeke originall we call him the directour, by the Latin he is called sententia: we may call him the sage sayer, thus.
[Sidenote: Sententia, or the
Sage sayer.]
Nature bids vs as a louing mother,
To loue our selues first and next to loue
another.
The Prince that couets all to know and
see,
Had neede full milde and patient to bee.
Nothing stickes faster by us as appeares,
Then that which we learne in our tender
yeares._
And that which our foueraigne Lady wrate in defiance
of fortune.
Neuer thinke you fortune can beare
the sway,
Where vertues force, can cause her to
obay.
Heede must be taken that such rules or sentences be choisly made and not often vsed least excesse breed lothsomnesse.
[Sidenote: Sinathrismus, or
the Heaping figure.]
Arte and good pollicie moues vs many times to be earnest
in our speach, and then we lay on such load and so
go to it by heapes as if we would winne the game by
multitude of words & speaches, not all of one but of
diuers matter and sence, for which cause the Latines
called it Congeries and we the heaping figure,
as he that said
To muse in minde how faire, how wise,
how good,
How braue, how free, how curteous and
how true,
My Lady is doth but inflame my blood.
Or thus.
I deeme, I dreame, I do, I tast, I
touch,
Nothing at all but smells of perfit blisse.
And thus by maister Edward Diar, vehement swift
& passionatly.
But if my faith my hope, my loue my
true intent,
My libertie, my seruice vowed, my time
and all be spent,
In vaine, &c.
But if such earnest and hastie heaping vp of speaches
be made by way of recapitulation, which commonly is
in the end of euery long tale and Oration, because
the speaker seemes to make a collection of all the
former materiall points, to binde them as it were
in a bundle and lay them forth to enforce the cause
and renew the hearers memory, then ye may geue him
more properly the name of the [collectour] or
recapitulatour, and serueth to very great purpose
as in an hympne written by vs to the Queenes Maiestie
entitled [Mourua] wherein speaking of the mutabilitie
of fortune in the case of all Princes generally, wee
seemed to exempt her Maiestie of all such casualtie,
by reason she was by her destinie and many diuine
partes in her, ordained to a most long and constant
prosperitie in this world, concluding with this recapitualtion.
But thou art free, but were thou not
in deede,
But were thou not, come of immortall seede:
Neuer yborne, and thy minde made to blisse,
Heauens mettall that euerlasting is:
Were not thy wit, and that thy vertues
shall,
Be deemd diuine thy fauour face and all:
And that thy loze, ne name may neuer dye,
Nor thy state turne, stayd by destinie:
Dread were least once thy noble hart may
feele,
Some rufull turne, of her unsteady wheele.
[Sidenote: Apostrophe, or
the turne tale.]
Many times when we haue runne a long race in our tale
spoken to the hearers, we do sodainly flye out & either
speake or exclaime at some other person or thing,
and therefore the Greekes call such figure (as we do)
the turnway or turnetale, & breedeth by such exchaunge
a certaine recreation to the hearers minds, as this
vsed by a louer to his vnkind mistresse.
And as for you (faire one) say now
by proofe ye finde,
That rigour and ingratitude soone kill
a gentle minde.
And as we in our triumphals, speaking long to the
Queenes Maiestie, vpon
the sodaine we burst out in an exclamtion to Phebus,
seeming to draw in
a new matter, thus.
But O Phebus,
All glistering in thy gorgious gowne,
Wouldst thou wit safe to slide a downe:
And dwell with us,
But for a day,
I could tell thee close in thine eare,
A tale that thou hadst leuer heare
—I dare well say:
Then ere thou wert,
To kisse that unkind runneaway,
Who was transformed to boughs of bay:
For her curst hert. &c ._
And so returned againe to the first matter.
[Sidenote: Hypotiposis, or the counterfait representation.] The matter and occasion leadeth vs many times to describe and set foorth many things, in such sort as it should appeare they were truly before our eyes though they were not present, which to do it requireth cunning: for nothing can be kindly counterfait or represented in his absence, but by great discretion in the doer. And if the things we couet to describe be not naturall or not veritable, than yet the same axeth more cunning to do it, because to faine a thing that neuer was nor is like to be, proceedeth of a greater wit and sharper inuention than to describe things that be true.
[Sidenote: Prosopographia.] And these be things that a poet or maker is woont to describe sometimes as true or naturall, and sometimes to faine as artificiall and not true. viz. The visage, speach and countenance of any person absent or dead: and this kinde of representation is called the Counterfait countenance: as Homer doth in his Iliades, diuerse personages: namely Achilles and Thersites, according to the truth and not by fiction. And as our poet Chaucer doth in his Canterbury tales set for the Sumner, Pardoner, Manciple, and the rest of the pilgrims, most naturally and pleasantly.
[Sidenote: Prosopopeia, or the Counterfait in personation.] But if ye wil faine any person with such features, qualities & conditions, or if ye wil attribute any humane quality, as reason or speech to dombe creatures or other insensible things, & do study (as one may say) to giue them a humane person, it is not Prosopographia, but Prosopopeia, because it is by way of fiction, & no prettier examples can be giuen to you thereof, than in the Romant of the rose translated out of French by Chaucer, describing the persons of auarice, enuie, old age, and many others, whereby much moralities is taught.
[Sidenote: Cronographia, or the Counterfait time.] So if we describe the time or season of the yeare, as winter, summer, haruest, day, midnight, noone, euening, or such like: we call such description the counterfait time. Cronographia examples are euery where to be found.
[Sidenote: Topographia, or the Counterfait place.] And if this description be of any true place, citie, castell, hill, valley or sea, & such like: we call it the counterfait place Topographia, or if ye fayne places vntrue, as heauen, hell, paradise, the house of fame, the pallace of the sunne, the denne of sheepe, and such like which ye shall see in Poetes: so did Chaucer very well describe the country of Saluces in Italie, which ye may see, in his report of the Lady Grysyll.
[Sidenote: Pragmatographia, or the Counterfait action.] But if such description be made to represent the handling of any busines with the circumstances belonging therevnto as the manner of a battell, a feast, a marriage, a buriall or any other matter that heth in feat and actiutie: we call it then the counterfeit action [Pragmatographia.]
In this figure the Lord Nicholas Vaux a noble
gentleman, and much delighted in vulgar making, &
a man otherwise of no great learning but hauing herein
a maruelous facillitie, made a dittie representing
the battayle and assault of Cupide, so excellently
well, as for the gallant and propre application of
his fiction in euery part, I cannot choose but set
downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth
it can not be amended.
When Cupid scaled first the fort,
Wherein my hart lay wounded sore,
The battrie was of such a sort,
That I must yeeld or die therefore.
There saw I loue vpon the wall,
How he his banner did display,
Alarme alarme he gan to call,
And had his souldiers keepe aray.
The armes the which that Cupid
bare,
We pearced harts with teares besprent:
In siluer and sable to declare
The stedfast loue he alwaies meant.
There might you see his band
all drest
In colours like to white and blacke,
With pouder and with pellets prest,
To bring them forth to spoile and sacke,
Good will the master of the shot,
Stood in the Rampire braue and proude,
For expence of pouder he spared not,
Assault assault to crie aloude.
There might you heare the
Canons rore,
Eche peece discharging a louers looke,
&c.
[Sidenote: Omiosis, or Resemblance.]
As well to a good maker and Poet as to an excellent
perswader in prose, the figure of Similitude
is very necessary by which we not onely bewtifie our
tale, but also very much inforce & inlarge it.
I say inforce because no one thing more preuaileth
with all ordinary iudgements than perswasion by similitude.
Now because there are sundry sorts of them, which
also do worke after diuerse fashions in the hearers
of conceits, I will set them foorth by a triple diuision,
exempting the generall Similitude as their
common Auncestour, and I will cal him by the name of
Resemblance without any addition, from which
I deriue three other sorts: and giue euery one
his particular name, as Resemblance by Pourtrait or
Imagery, which the Greeks call Icon, Resemblance
morall or misticall, which they call Parabola,
& Resemblance by example, which they call Paradigma,
and first we will speake of the general resemblance,
or bare similitude, which may be thus spoken.
But as the watrie showres delay the
raging wind,
So doeth good hope cleane put away dispaire
out of my mind.
And in this other likening the forlorne louer to a
striken deer.
Then as the striken deere, withdrawes
himselfe alone,
So do I seeke some secret place, where
I may make my mone.
And in this of ours where we liken glory to a shadow.
As the shadow (his nature beying such,)
Followeth the body, whether it will or
no,
So doeth glory, refuse it nere so much,
Wait on vertue, be it in weale or wo.
And euen as the shadow in his kind,
What time it beares the carkas company,
Goth oft before, and often comes behind:
So doth renowne, that raiseth us so hye,
Come to vs quicke, sometime not till we
dye.
But the glory, that growth not ouer fast,
Is euer great, and likeliest long to last.
Againe in a ditty to a mistresse of ours, where we
likened the cure of
Loue to Achilles launce.
The launce so bright, that made Telephus
wound,
The same rusty, salued the sore againe,
So may my meede (Madame) of you redownd,
Whose rigour was first suthour of my paine.
The Tuskan poet vseth this Resemblance,
inuring as well by
Dissimilitude as Similitude, likening
himselfe (by Implication) to
the flie, and neither to the eagle nor to the owle:
very well Englished by
Sir Thomas Wiat after his fashion and by myselfe thus:
There be some fowles of sight so prowd
and starke,
As can behold the sunne, and neuer shrinke,
Some so feeble, as they are faine to winke,
Or neuer come abroad till it be darke:
Others there be so simple, as they thinke,
Because it shines, so sport them in the
fire,
And feele vnware, the wrong of the desire,
Fluttring amidst the flame that doth them
burne,
Of this last ranke (alas) am I aright,
For in my ladies lookes to stand or turne
I haue no power, ne find place to retire,
Where any darke may shade me from her
sight
But to her beames so bright whilst I aspire,
I perish by the bane of my delight.
Againe in these likening a wise man to the true louer.
As true loue is constant with his enioy,
And asketh no witnesse nor no record,
And as faint loue is euermore most coy,
To boast and brag his troth at euery word:
Euen so the wise without enother meede:
Contents him with the guilt of his good
deede.
And in this resembling the learning of an euill man
to the seedes sowen in
barren ground.
As the good seedes sowen in fruitfull
soyle,
Bring foorth foyson when barren doeth
them spoile:
So doeth it fare when much good learning
hits,
Vpon shrewde willes and ill disposed wits.
And in these likening the wise man to an idiot.
A sage man said, many of those that
come
To Athens schoole for wisdome, ere they
went
They first seem’d wise, then louers
of wisdome,
Then Orators, then idiots, which is meant
That in wisedome all such as profite most,
Are least surlie, and little apt to boast.
Againe, for a louer, whose credit vpon some report
had bene shaken, he
prayeth better opinion by similitude.
After ill crop the soyle must eft be
sowen,
And fro shipwracke we sayle to seas againe,
Then God forbid whose fault hath once
bene knowen,
Should for euer a spotted wight remaine.
And in this working by resemblance in a kinde of dissimilitude
betweene a
father and a master.
It fares not by fathers as by masters
it doeth fare,
For a foolish father may get a wise sonne,
But of a foolish master it haps very rare
Is bread a wise seruant where euer he
wonne.
And in these, likening the wise man to the Giant,
the foole to
the Dwarfe.
Set the Giant deepe in a dale, the
dwarfe vpon an hill,
Yet will the one be but a dwarfe, th’other
a giant still.
So will the wise be great and high, euen
in the lowest place:
The foole when he is most aloft, will
seeme but low and base.
[Sidenote: Icon, or Resemblance
by imagerie.]
But when we liken an humane person to another in countenaunce,
stature, speach or other qualitie, it is not called
bare resemblance, but resemblaunce by imagerie or
pourtrait, alluding to the painters terme, who yeldeth
to th’eye a visible representation of the thing
he describes and painteth in his table. So we
commending her Maiestie for the wisedome bewtie and
magnanimitie likened her to the Serpent, the Lion and
the Angell, because by common vsurpation, nothing
is wiser then the Serpent, more courageous then the
Lion, more bewtifull then the Angell. These are
our verses in the end of the seuenth Partheniade.
Nature that seldome workes amisse,
In womans brest by passing art:
Hath lodged safe the Lyons hart,
And stately fixt with all good grace,
To Serpents head an Angels face.
And this maner of resemblance is not onely performed
by likening liuely creatures one to another, but also
of any other naturall thing bearing a proportion of
similitude, as to liken yellow to gold, white to siluer,
red to the rose, soft to silke, hard to the stone
and such like. Sir Philip Sidney in the
description of his mistresse excellently well handled
this figure of resemblaunce by imagerie, as ye may
see in his booke of Archadia: and ye may
see the like, of our doings, in a Partheniade
written of our soueraigne Lady, wherein we resemble
euery part of her body to some naturall thing of excellent
perfection in his kind, as of her forehead, browes,
and haire, thus:
Of siluer was her forehead hye,
Her browes two bowes of hebenie,
Her tresses trust were to behold
Frizled and fine as fringe of gold.
And of her lips.
Two lips wrought out of rubie rocke,
Like leaues to shut and to vnlock.
As portall dore in Princes chamber:
A golden tongue in mouth of amber.
And of her eyes.
Her eyes God wot what stuffe they are,
I durst be sworne each is a starre:
As cleere and bright as woont to guide
The Pylot in his winter tide.
And of her breasts.
Her bosome sleake as Paris plaster,
Helde up two balles of alabaster,
Eche byas was a little cherrie:
Or els I thinke a strawberie.
And all the rest that followeth, which may suffice to exemplifie your figure Icon, or resemblance by imagerie and portrait.
[Sidenote: Parabola or Resemblance misticall.] But whensoeuer by your similitude ye will seeme to teach any moralitie or good lesson by speeches misticall and darke, or farre sette, vnder a sence metaphoricall applying one naturall thing to another, or one case to another, inferring by them a like consequence in other cases the Greekes call it Parabola, which terme is also by custome accepted of vs: neuerthelesse we may call him in English the resemblance misticall: as when we liken a young childe to a greene twigge which ye may easilie bende euery way ye list: or an old man who laboureth with continuall infirmities, to a drie and dricklie oke. Such parables were all the preachings of Christ in the Gospell, as those of the wise and foolish virgins, of the euil steward, of the labourers in the vineyard, and a number more. And they may be fayned aswell as true: as those fables of Aesope, and other apologies inuented for doctrine sake by wise and graue men.
[Sidenote: Paradigma, or a resemblance by example.] Finally, if in matter of counsell or perswasion we will seeme to liken one case to another, such as passe ordinarily in mans affaires, and doe compare the past with the present, gathering probabilitie of like successe to come in the things wee haue presently in hand: or if ye will draw the iudgements precedent and authorized by antiquitie as veritable, and peraduenture fayned and imagined for some purpose, into similitude or dissimilitude with our present actions and affaires, it is called resemblance by example: as if one should say thus, Alexander the great in his expidition to Asia did thus, so did Hanniball comming into Spaine, so did Caesar in Egypt, therfore all great Captains & Generals ought to doe it.
And thus againe, It hath bene alwayes vsuall among great and magnanimous princes in all ages, not only to repulse any iniury & inuasion from their owne realmes and dominions, but also with a charitable & Princely compassion to defend their good neighbors Princes and Potentats, from all oppression of tyrants & vsurpers. So did the Romaines by their armes restore many Kings of Asia and Affricke expulsed out of their kingdoms. So did K. Edward I restablish Baliol rightfull owner of the crowne of Scotland against Robert le brus no lawfull King. So did king Edward the third aide Dampeeter king of Spaine against Henry bastard and vsurper. So haue many English Princes holpen with their forces the poore Dukes of Britaine their ancient friends and allies, against the outrages of the French kings: and why may not the Queene our soueraine Lady with like honor and godly zele yeld protection to the people of the Low countries, her neerest neighbours to rescue them a free people from the Spanish seruitude.
And as this resemblance is of one mans action to another,
so may it be made by examples of bruite beastes, aptly
corresponding in qualitie or euent, as one that wrote
certaine prety verses of the Emperor Maximinus,
to warne him that he should not glory too much in his
owne strength, for so he did in very deede, and would
not take any common souldier to taske at wrastling,
or weapon, or in any other actiuitie and feates of
armes, which was by the wiser sort mislliked, these
were the verses.
The Elephant is strong, yet death doeth
it subdue,
The bull is strong, yet cannot death eschue.
The Lion strong, and slaine for all his
strength:
The Tygar strong, yet kilde is at the
length.
Dread thou many, that dreadest not any
one,
Many can kill, that cannot kill alone._
And so it fell out, for Maximinus was slaine in a mutinie of his souldiers, taking no warning by these examples written for his admonition.
CHAP. XX.
The last and principall figure of our poeticall Ornament.
[Sidenote: Exargasia or The Gorgious.] For the glorious lustre it setteth vpon our speech and language, the Greeks call it [Exargasia] the Latine [Expolisio] a terme transferred from these polishers of marble or porphirite, who after it is rough hewen & reduced to that fashion they will do set vpon it a goodly glasse, so smoth and cleere as ye may see your face in it, or otherwise as it fareth by the bare and naked body, which being attired in rich and gorgious apparell, seemeth to the common vsage of th’eye much more comely & bewtifull then the naturall. So doth this figure (which therefore I call the Gorgious) polish our speech & as it were attire it with copious & pleasant amplifications and much varietie of sentences all running vpon one point & to one intent so as I doubt whether I may terme it a figure, or rather a masse of many figurative speaches, applied to the bewtifying of our tale or argument. In a worke of ours intituled Philocalia we have strained to shew the vse & application of this figure and all others mentioned in this booke, to which we referre you. I finde none example in English meetre, so well maintaining this figure as that dittie of her Maiesties owne making passing sweete and harmonicall, which figure beyng as his very originall name purporteth the most bewtifull and gorgious of all others, it asketh in reason to be reserued for a last complement, and desciphred by the arte of a Ladies penne, her selfe being the most bewtifull, or rather bewtie of Queenes. And this was the occasion: our soueraigne Lady perceiuing how by the Sc.Q. residence within this Realme at so great libertie and ease (as were skarce meete for so great and daungerous a prysoner) bred secret factions among her people, and made many of the nobilitie incline to fauour her partie: some of them desirous of innouation in the state: others aspiring to greater
In a worke of ours entituled [Philo Calia] where we entreat of the loues betwene prince Philo and Lady Calia in their mutual letters messages, and speeches: we have strained our muse to shew the vse and application of this figure, and of all others.
CHAP. XXI.
Of the vices or deformities in speach and writing principally noted by auncient Poets.
It hath bene said before how by ignorance of the maker a good figure may become a vice, and by his good discretion, a vicious speach go for a vertue in the Poeticall science. This saying is to be explaned and qualified, for some maner of speaches are always intollerable and such as cannot be vsed with any decencie, but are euer vndecent namely barbarousnesse, incongruitie, ill disposition, fond affectation, rusticitie, and all extreme darknesse, such as it is not possible for a man to vnderstand the matter without an interpretour, all which partes are generally to be banished out of euery language, vnlesse it may appeare that the maker or Poet do it for the nonce, as it was reported by the Philosopher Heraclitus that he wrote in obscure and darke termes of purpose not to be vnderstood, whence he merited the nickname Scotinus, otherwise I see not but the rest of the common faultes may be
CHAP. XXII.
Some vices in speaches and writing are alwayes intollerable, some others now and then borne withall by licence of approued authors and custome.
[Sidenote: Barbarismus, or Forrein speech.] The foulest vice in language is to speake barbarously: this terme grew by the great pride of the Greekes and Latines, when they were dominatours of the world reckoning no language so sweete and ciuill as their owne, and that all nations beside them selues were rude and vnciuill, which they called barbarous: So as when any straunge word not of the naturall Greeke or Latin was spoken, in the old time they called it barbarisme, or when any of their owne naturall wordes were sounded and pronounced with straunge and ill shapen accents, or written by wrong ortographie, as he that would say with vs in England, a dousand for a thousand, asterday, for yesterday, as commonly the Dutch and French people do, they said it was barbarously spoken. The Italian at this day by like arrogance calleth the Frenchman, Spaniard, Dutch, English, and all other breed behither their mountaines Appennines, Tramontani, as who would say Barbarous. This terme being then so vsed by the auncient Greekes, there haue bene since, notwithstanding who haue digged for the Etimologie somethat deeper, and many of them haue said that is was spoken by the rude and barking language of the Affricans now called Barbarians, who had great trafficke with the Greekes and Romanes, but that can not be so, for that part or Affricke hath but of late receiued the name of Burbarie and some others rather thinke that of this word Barbarous, that countrey came to be called Barbaria and but few yeares in respect agone. Others among whom is Ihan Leon a Moore of Granada,
[Sidenote: Solecismus, or Incongruitie.] Your next intollerable vice is solecismus or incongruitie, as when we speake halfe English, that is by misusing the Grammaticall rules to be obserued in cases, genders, tenses, and such like, euery poore scholler knowes the fault, & cals it the breaking of Priscians head, for he was among the Latines a principall Grammarian.
[Sidenote: Cacozelia, or Fonde affectation.] Ye haue another intollerable ill maner of speach, which by the Greekes originall we may call fonde affectation and is when we affect new words and phrases other then the good speakers and writers in any language, or then custome hath allowed, & is the common fault of young schollers not halfe well studied before they come from the Vniuersitie or schooles, and when they come to their friends, or happen to get some benefice or other promotion in their countreys, will seeme to coigne fine wordes out of the Latin, and to vse new fangled speaches, thereby to shew thenselues among the ignorant the better learned.
[Sidenote: Soraismus, or The mingle
mangle.]
Another of your intollerable vices is that which the
Greekes call Soraismus, & we may call the [mingle
mangle] as when we make our speach or writinges
of sundry languages vsing some Italian word, or French,
or Spanish, or Dutch, or Scottish, not for the nonce
or for any purpose (which were in part excusable)
but ignorantly and affectedly as one that said vsing
this French word Roy, to make ryme with another
verse, thus.
O mightie Lord of loue, dame Venus
onely ioy,
Whose Princely power exceedes ech other
heauenly roy.
The verse is good but the terme peeuishly affected.
Another of reasonable good facilitie in translation finding certaine of the hymnes of Pyndarus and of Anacreons odes, and other Lirickes among the Greekes very well translated by Rounsard the French Poet, & applied to the honour of a great Prince in France, comes our minion and translates the same out of French into English, and applieth them to the honour of a great noble man in England (wherein
Whereas the French word is enfante as much
to say borne as a child, in another verse he saith.
I will freddon in thine honour.
For I will shake or quiuer my fingers, for so in French
is freddon,
and in another verse.
But if I will thus like pindar,
In many discourses egar.
This word egar is as much to say as to wander or stray out of the way, which in our English is not receiued, nor these wordes calabrois, thebanois, but rather calabrian, theba [filanding sisters] for the spinning sisters: this man deserues to be endited of pety larceny for pilfring other mens deuices from them & conuerting them to his owne vfe for in deede as I would with euery inuentour which is the very Poet to receaue the prayses of his inuention, so would I not haue a translatour be ashamed to be acknowen of this translation.
[Sidenote: Cacosintheton,
or the Misplacer.]
Another of your intollerable vices is ill disposiiton
or placing of your words in a clause or sentence:
as when you will place your adiectiue after your substantiue,
thus: Mayde faire, widow riche, priest holy,
and such like, which though the Latines did admit,
yet our English did not, as one that said ridiculously.
In my yeares lustie, many a deed doughtie
did I.
All these remembred faults be intollerable and euer vndecent.
[Sidenote: Cacemphaton, or
figure of foule speech.]
Now haue ye other vicious manners of speech, but sometimes
and in some cases tollerable, and chiefly to the intent
to mooue laughter, and to make sport, or to giue it
some prety strange grace, and is when we vse such
wordes as may be drawen to a foule and vnshamefast
sence, as one that would say to a young woman, I
pray you let me iape with you, which indeed is
no more but let me sport with you. Yea and though
it were not altogether so directly spoken the very
sounding of the word were not commendable, as he that
in the presence of Ladies would vse this common Prouerbe,
Iape with me but hurt me not,
Bourde with me but shame me not.
For it may be taken in another peruerser sence by that sorte of persons that heare it, in whose eares no such matter ought almost to be called in memory, this vice is called by the Greekes Cacemphaton, we call it the vnshamefast or figure of foule speech, which our courtly maker shall in any case shunne, least of a Poet he become a Buffon or rayling companion, the Latines called him Scurra. There is also another sort of ilfauoured speech subiect to this vice, but resting more in the manner of the ilshapen sound and accent, than for the matter it selfe, which may easily be auoyded in choosing your wordes those that bee of the pleasantest orthography, and not to rune too many like sounding words together.
[Sidenote: Tautologia, or
the figure of selfe saying.]
Ye haue another manner of composing your metre nothing
commendable, specially if it be too much vsed, and
is when our maker takes too much delight to fill his
verse with wordes beginning all with a letter, as an
English rimer that said:
The deadly droppes of darke disdaine,
Do daily drench my due desartes.
And as the Monke we spake of before, wrote a whole
Poeme to the honor of Carolus Caluus euery
word in his verse beginning with C, thus:
Carmina clarifone Caluis cantate camena.
Many of our English makers vse it too much, yet we
confesse it doth not ill but pretily becomes the meetre,
if ye passe not two or three words in one verse, and
vse it not very much, as he that said by way of Epithete.
The smoakie sighes: the trickling
teares.
And such like, for such composition makes the meetre runne away smoother, and passeth from the lippes with more facilitie by iteration of a letter then by alteration, which alteration of a letter requires an exchange of ministery and office in the lippes, teeth or palate, and so doth not the iteration.
[Sidenote: Histeron, proteron,
or the Preposterous.]
Your misplacing and preposterous placing is not all
one in behauiour of language, for the misplacing is
alwaies intollerable, but the preposterous is a pardonable
fault, and many times giues a pretie grace vnto the
speech. We call it by a common saying to set
the carte before the horse, and it may be done
eyther by a single word or by a clause of speech:
by a single word thus:
And if I not performe, God let me neuer
thriue.
For performe not: and this vice is sometime tollerable
inough, but if the word carry any notable sence, it
is a vice not tollerable, as he that said praising
a woman for her red lippes, thus:
A corrall lippe of hew.
Which is no good speech, because either he should haue sayd no more but a corrall lip, which had bene inough to declare the rednesse or els he should haue said a lip of corrall hew, and not a corrall lip of hew. Now if this disorder be in a whole clause which carieth more sentence then a word, it is then worst of all.
[Sidenote: Acyron, or the
Vncouthe.]
Ye haue another vicious speech which the Greeks call
Acyron, we call it the vncouthe, and
is when we vse an obscure and darke word, and vtterly
repugnant to that we would expresse, if it be not by
vertue of the figures metaphore, allegorie, abusion,
or such other laudable figure before remembred, as
he that said by way of Epithete.
A dongeon deep, a dampe as darke as
hell.
Where it is euident that a dampe being but a breath
or vapour, and not to be discerned by the eye, ought
not to haue this epithete (darke,) no more
then another that praysing his mistresse for her bewtifull
haire, said very improperly and with an vncouth terme.
Her haire surmounts Apollos pride,
In it such bewty raignes.
Whereas this word raigne is ill applied to
the bewtie of a womans haire, and might better haue
bene spoken of her whole person, in which bewtie,
fauour, and good grace, may perhaps in some sort be
said to raigne as our selues wrate, in a Partheniade
praising her Maiesties countenance, thus:
A cheare where loue and Maiestie do
raigne,
Both milde and sterne, &c.
Because this word Maiestie is a word expressing a
certaine Soueraigne dignitie, as well as a quallitie
of countenance, and therefore may properly be said
to raigne, & requires no meaner a word to set
him foorth by. So it is not of the bewtie that
remaines in a womans haire, or in her hand or any
other member: therfore when ye see all these unproper
or harde Epithets vsed, ye may put them in the number
of [uncouths] as one that said, the flouds
of graces: I haue heard of the flouds of
teares, and the flouds of eloquence, or
of any thing that may resemble the nature of a water-course,
and in that respect we say also, the streames of
teares, and the streames of utterance, but
not the streames of graces, or of beautie.
Such manner of vncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth
vse to king Edward the fourth, which Tanner
hauing a great while mistaken him, and vsed very broad
talke with him, at length perceiuing by his traine
that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished
for it, said thus with a certaine rude repentance.
I hope I shall be hanged tomorrow.
For [I fear me] I shall be hanged, whereat the king laughed a good, not only to see the Tanners vaine feare, but also to heare his ill shapen terme, and gaue him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumton parke, I am afraid the Poets of our time that speake more finely and correctedly will come too short of such a reward.
[Sidenote: The vice of Surplusage.] Also the Poet or makers speech becomes vicious and vnpleasant by nothing more than by vsing too much surplusage: and this both not only in a word or two more than ordinary, but in whole clauses, and peraduenture large sentences impertinently spoken, or with more labour and curiositie than is requisite.
[Sidenote: Pleonasmus, or
Too ful speech.]
The first surplusage the Greekes call Pleonasmus,
I call him [too much speech] and is no great
fault, as if one should say, I heard it with mine
eares, and saw it with mine eyes, as if a man could
heare with his heeles, or see with his nose.
We our selues vsed this superfluous speech in a verse
written of our mistresse, neuertheles, not much to
be misliked, for euen a vice sometime being seasonably
vsed, hath a pretie grace,
For euer may my true loue liue and
neuer die
And that mine eyes may see her crownde
a Queene.
As, if she liued euer, she could euer die, or that one might see her crowned without his eyes.
[Sidenote: Macrologia, or Long language.] Another part of surplusage is called Macrologia, or long language, when we vse large clauses or sentences more than is requisite to the matter: it is also named by the Greeks Perissologia, as he that said, the Ambassadours after they had receiued this answere at the kings hands, they tooke their leaue and returned home into their countrey from whence they came.
So said another of our rimers, meaning to shew the
great annoy and
difficultie of those warres of Troy, caused for Helenas
sake.
Nor Menelaus was vnwise,
Or troupe of Troians mad,
When he with them and they with him,
For her such combat had.
The clauses (he with them and they with him) are surpluage, and one of them very impertinent, because it could not otherwise be intended, but that Menelaus, fighting with the Troians, the Troians must of necessitie fight with him.
[Sidenote: Periergia, or Ouerlabor,
otherwise called the curious.] Another point of surplusage
lieth not so much in superfluitie of your words, as
of your trauaile to describe the matter which yee take
in hand, and that ye ouer-labour your selfe in your
businesse. And therefore the Greekes call it
Periergia, we call it ouer-labor, iumpe with
the originall: or rather [the curious]
for his ouermuch curiositie and studie to shew himselfe
fine in a light matter, as one of our late makers,
who in most of his things wrote very well, in this
(to mine opinion) more curiously than needed, the
matter being ripely considered: yet is his verse
very good, and his meetre cleanly. His intent
was to declare how vpon the tenth day of March he
crossed the riuer of Thames, to walke in Saint Georges
field, the matter was not as great as ye may suppose.
The tenth of March when Aries receiued
Dan Phoebus raies into his horned head,
And I my selfe by learned lore perceiued
That Ver approcht and frosty winter fled
I crost the Thames to take the cheerefull
aire,
In open fields, the weather was so faire.
First, the whole matter is not worth all this solemne circumstance to describe the tenth day of March, but if he had left at the two first verses it had bene inough. But when he comes with two other verses to enlarge his description, it is not only more than needes, but also very ridiculous for he makes wise, as if he had not bene a man learned in some of the mathematickes (by learned lore) that he could not haue told that the x. of March had fallen in the spring of the yeare: which euery carter, and also euery child knoweth without any learning. Then also when he saith [Ver approcht, and frosty winter fled] though it were a surplusage (because one season must needes geue place to the other) yet doeth it well inough passe without blame in the maker. These, and a hundred more of such faultie and impertinent speeches may yee finde amongst vs vulgar Poets when we be carelesse of our doings.
[Sidenote: Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.]
It is no small fault in a maker to vse such wordes
and termes as do diminish and abbase the matter he
would seeme to set forth, by imparing the dignitie,
height vigour or maiestie of the cause he takes in
hand, as one that would say king Philip shrewdly
harmed the towne of S. Quinaines, when
in deede he wanne it and put it to the sacke, and
that king Henry the eight made spoiles in Turwin,
when as in deede he did more than spoile it, for he
caused it to be defaced and razed flat to the earth,
and made in inhabitable. Therefore the historiographer
that should by such wordes report of these two kings
gestes in that behalfe, should greatly blemish the
honour of their doings and almost speake untruly and
iniuriously by way of abbasement, as another of our
bad rymers that very indecently said.
A misers mynde thou hast, thou hast
a Princes pelfe.
A lewd terme to be giuen to a Princes treasure (pelfe) and was a little more manerly spoken by Seriant Bendlowes, when in a progresse time comming to salute the Queene in Huntingtonshire he said to her Cochman, stay thy cart good fellow, stay thy cart, that I may speake to the Queene, whereat her Maiestie laughed as she had bene tickled, and all the rest of the company although very graciously (as her manner is) she gaue him great thanks and her hand to kisse. These and such other base wordes do greatly disgrace the thing & the speaker or writer: the Greekes call it [Tapinosis] we the [abbaser.]
[Sidenote: Bomphiologia, or Pompious speech.] Others there be that fall into the contrary vice by vsing such bombasted wordes, as seeme altogether farced full of winde, being a great deale to high and loftie for the matter, whereof ye may finde too many in all popular rymers.
[Sidenote: Amphibologia, or
the Ambiguous.]
Then haue ye one other vicious speach with which we
will finish this Chapter, and is when we speake or
write doubtfully and that the sence may be taken two
wayes, such ambiguous termes they call Amphibologia,
we call it the ambiguous, or figure of sence
incertaine, as if one should say Thomas Tayler
saw William Tyler dronke, it is indifferent
to thinke either th’one or th’other dronke.
Thus said a gentleman in our vulgar pretily notwithstanding
because he did it not ignoratnly, but for the nonce.
I sat by my Lady soundly sleeping,
My mistresse lay by me bitterly weeping.
No man can tell by this, whether the mistresse or the man, slept or wept: these doubtfull speaches were vsed much in the old times by their false Prophets as appeareth by the Oracles of Delphos and and of the Sybille prophecies deuised by the religious persons of those dayes to abuse the superstitious people, and to encumber their busie braynes with vaine hope or vaine feare.
Lucretius the merry Greeke reciteth a great number of them, deuised by a coosening companion one Alexander, to get himselfe the name and reputation of the God Aesculapius, and in effect all our old Brittish and Saxon prophesies be of the same sort, that turne them on which side ye will, the matter of them may be verified, neuerthelesse carryeth generally such force in the heades of fonde people, that by the comfort of those blind prophecies many insurrections and rebellions have bene stirred vp in this Realme, as that of Iacke Straw & Iacke Cade in Richard the seconds time, and in our time by a seditious fellow in Norffolke calling himself Captaine Ket and others in other places of the Realme lead altogether by certaine propheticall rymes, which might be construed two or three wayes as well as to that one whereunto the rebelles applied it: our maker shall therefore auoyde all such ambiguous speaches vnlesse it be when he doth it for the nonce and for some purpose.
CHAP. XXIII.
What it is that generally makes our speach well pleasing & commeniable and of that which the Latines call Decorum.
In all things to vse decencie, is it onely that giueth euery thing his good grace & without which nothing in mans speach could seeme good or gracious, in so much as many times it makes a bewtifull figure fall into deformitie, and on th’other side a vicious speach seeme pleasaunt and bewtifull: this decencie is therfore the line & leuell for al good makers to do their busines by. But herein resteth the difficultie to know what this good grace is, & wherein it confitted, for peraduenture it be easier to conceaue then to expresse, we wil therfore examine it to the bottome & say: that euery thing which pleaseth the mind or sences, & the mind by the sences as by means instrumentall, doth it for some amiable point
Now because this comelynesse resteth in the good conformitie of many things and their sundry circumstances, with respect one to another, so as there be found a iust correspondencie betweene them by this or that relation, the Greekes call it Analogie or a conuenient proportion. This louely conformitie or proportion or conueniencie betweene the sence and the sensible hath nature her selfe first most carefully obserued in all her owne workes, then also by kinde graft it in the appetites of euery creature working by intelligence to couet and desire: and in their actions to imitate & performe: and of man chiefly before any other creature as well in his speaches as in euery other part of his behauiour. And this in generalitie and by an vsuall terme is that which the Latines call [decorum.] So albeit we before alleaged that all our figures be but transgressions of our dayly speach, yet if they fall out decently to the good liking of the mynde or eare and to the bewtifying of the matter or language, all is well, if indecently, and to the eares and myndes misliking (be the figure
This decencie, so farfoorth as apperteineth to the consideration of our art, resteth in writing, speech and behauiour. But because writing is no more then the image or character of speech, they shall goe together in these our observations. And first wee wil sort you out diuers points, in which the wise and learned men of times past haue noted much decency or vndecencie, every man according to his discretion, as it hath bene said afore: but wherein for the most part all discreete men doe generally agree, and varie not in opinion, whereof the examples I will geue you be worthie of remembrance: & though they brought with them no doctrine or institution at all, yet for the solace they may geue the readers, after
And your decencies are of sundrie sorts, according to the many circumstances accompanying our writing, speech or behauiour, so as in the very sound or voice of him that speaketh, there is a decencie that becommeth, and an vndecencie that misbecommeth vs, which th’Emperor Anthonine marked well in the Orator Philisetes, who spake before him with so small and shrill a voice as the Emperor was greatly annoyed therewith, and to make him shorten his tale, said, by thy beard thou shouldst be a man, but by thy voice a woman.
Phanorinus the Philosopher was counted very wise and well learned, but a little too talkatiue and full of words: for the which Timocrates reprooued him in the hearing of one Polemon. That is no wonder quoth Polemon, for so be all women. And besides, Phanorinus being knowen for an Eunuke or gelded man, came by the same nippe to be noted as an effeminate and degenerate person.
And there is a measure to be vsed in a mans speech or tale, so as it be neither for shortnesse too darke, nor for length too tedious. Which made Cleomenes king of the Lacedemonians geue this vnpleasant answere to the Ambassadors or the Samiens, who had tolde him a long message from their Citie, and desired to know his pleasure in it. My masters (saith he) the first part of your tale was so long, that I remember it not, which made that the second I vnderstoode not, and as for the third part I doe nothing well allow of. Great princes and graue counsellors who haue little spare leisure to hearken, would haue speeches vsed to them such as be short and sweete.
And if they be spoken by a man of account, or one who for his yeares, profession or dignitie should be thought wise & reuerend, his speeches & words should also be graue, pithie & sententious, which was well noted by king Antiochus, who likened Hermogenes the famous Orator of Greece, vnto these fowles in their moulting time, when their feathers be sick, and be so loase in the flesh that at any little rowse they can easilie shake them off: so saith he, can Hermogenes of all the men that euer I knew, as easilie deliuer from him his vaine and impertinent speeches and words.
And there is a decencie, that euery speech should be to the appetite and delight, or dignitie of the hearer & not for any respect arrogant or vndutifull, as was that of Alexander sent Embassadour from the Athenians to th’Emperour Marcus, this man seing th’emperour not so attentiue to his tale, as he would haue had him, said by way of interruption, Ceasar I pray thee giue me better eare, it seemest thou knowest me not, nor from whom I came: the Emperour nothing well liking his bold malapert speech, said: thou art deceyued, for I heare thee and know well inough, that thou art that fine, foolish, curious, sawcie Alexander that tendest to nothing but to combe & cury thy haire, to pare thy nailes, to pick thy teeth, and to perfume thy selfe with sweet oyles, that no man may abide the sent of thee. Prowde speeches, and too much finesse and curiositie is not commendable in an Embassadour. And I haue knowen in my time such of them, as studied more vpon what apparel they should weare, and what countenaunces they should keepe at the times of their audience, then they did vpon th’effect of their errant or commission.
And there is decency in that euery man should talke of the things they haue best skill of, and not in that, their knowledge and learning serueth them not to do, as we are wont to say, he speaketh of Robin hood that neuer shot in his bow: there came a great Oratour before Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, and vttered much matter to him touching fortitude and valiancie in the warres: the king laughed: why laughest thou quoth the learned man, since thou art a king thy selfe, and one whom fortitude best becommeth? why said Cleomenes would it not make any body laugh, to heare the swallow who feeds onely vpon flies to boast of his great pray, and see the eagle stand by and say nothing? if thou wert a man of warre or euer hadst bene day of thy life, I would not laugh to here thee speake of valiancie, but neuer being so, & speaking before an old captaine I can not choose but laugh.
And some things and speaches are decent or indecent in respect of the time they be spoken or done in. As when a great clerk presented king Antiochus with a booke treating all of iustice, the king that time lying at the siege of a towne, who lookt vpon the title of the booke, and cast it to him againe: saying, what a diuell tellest thou to me of iustice, now thou seest me vse force and do the best I can to bereeue mine enimie of his towne? euery thing hath his season which is called Oportunitie, and the vnfitnesse or vndecency of the time is called Importunitie.
Sometime the vndeceny ariseth by the indignitie of the word in respect of the speaker himselfe, as whan a daughter of Fraunce and next heyre generall to the crowne (if the law Salique had not barred her) being set in a great chaufe by some harde words giuen her by another prince of the bloud, said in her anger, thou durst not haue said thus much to me if God had giuen me a paire of, &c. and told all out, meaning if God had made her a man and not a woman she had bene king of Fraunce. The word became not the greatnesse of her person, and much lesse her sex, whose chiefe virtue shamefastnesse, which the Latines call Verecundia, that is a naturall feare to be noted with any impudicitie: so as when they heare or see any thing tending that way they commonly blush, & is a part greatly praised in all women.
Yet will ye see in many cases how pleasant speeches and fauouring some skurrillity and vnshamefastnes haue now and then a certaine decencie, and well become both the speaker to say, and the hearer to abide, but that is by reason of some other circumstance, as when the speaker himselfe is knowne to be a common iester or buffon, such as take vpon them to make princes merry, or when some occasion is giuen by the hearer to induce such a pleasaunt speach, and in many other cases whereof no generall rule can be giuen, but are best knowen by example: as when Sir Andrew Flamock king Henry the eights standerdbearer, a merry conceyted man and apt to skoffe, waiting one day at the kings heeles when he entred the parke at Greenewich, the king blew his horne, Flamock hauing his belly full, and his tayle at commaundment, gaue out a rappe nothing faintly, that the king turned him about and said how now sirra? Flamock not well knowing how to excuse his vnmannerly act, if it please you Sir quoth he, your Maiesty blew one blast for the keeper and I another for his man. The king laughed hartily and tooke it nothing offensiuely: for indeed as the case fell out it was not vndecently spoken by Sir Andrew Flamock, for it was the cleaneliest excuse he could make, and a merry implicatiue in termes nothing odious, and therefore a sporting satisfaction to the kings mind, in a matter which without some such merry answere could not haue bene well taken. So was Flamocks action most vncomely, but his speech excellently well becoming the occasion.
But at another time and in another like case, the
same skurrillitie of Flamock was more offensiue,
because it was more indecent. As when the king
hauing Flamock with him in his barge, passing
from Westminster to Greenewich to visite a fayre Lady
whom the king loued and was lodged in the tower of
the Parke: the king comming within sight of the
tower, and being disposed to be merry, said, Flamock
let vs rime: as well as I can said Flamock
if it please your grace. The king began thus:
Within this towre,
There lieth a flowre,
That hath my hart.
Flamock for aunswer: Within this hower, she will, &c. with the rest in so vncleanly termes, as might not now become me by the rule of Decorum to vtter writing to so great a Maiestie, but the king tooke them in so euill part, as he bid Flamock auaunt varlet, and that he should no more be so neere vnto him. And wherein I would faine learne, lay this vndecencie? in the skurrill and filthy termes not meete for a kings eare? perchance so. For the king was a wise and graue man, and though he hated not a faire woman, liked he nothing well to heare speeches of ribaudrie: as they report of th’emperour Octauian: Licet fuerit ipse incontinentissimus, fuit tamen incontinense feuerissimus vltor. But the very cause in deed was for that Flamocks reply answered not the kings expectation, for the kings rime commencing with a pleasant and amorous proposition: Sir Andrew Flamock to finish it not with loue but with lothsomnesse, by termes very rude and vnciuill, and seing the king greatly fauour that Ladie for her much beauty by like or some other good partes, by his fastidious aunswer to make her seeme odious to him, it helde a great disproportion to the kings appetite, for nothing is so vnpleasant to a man, as to be encountered in his chiefe affection, & specially in his loues, & whom we honour we should also reuerence their appetites, or at the least beare with them (not being wicked and vtterly euill) and whatsoeuer they do affect, we do not as becommeth vs if we make it seeme to them horrible. This in mine opinion was the chiefe cause of the vndecencie and also of the kings offence. Aristotle the great philosopher knowing this very well, what time he put Calistenes to king Alexander the greats seruice gaue him this lesson. Sirra quoth he, ye go now from a scholler to be a courtier, see ye speake to the king your maister, either nothing at all, or else that which pleaseth him, which rule if Calistenes had followed and forborne to crosse the kings appetite in diuerse speeches, it had not cost him so deepely as afterward it did. A like matter of offence fell out betweene th’Emperour Charles the fifth, & an Embassadour of king Henry the eight, whom I could name but will not for the great opinion the world had of his wisdome and sufficiency in that behalfe, and all for misusing of a terme. The king in the matter of controuersie betwixt him and Ladie Catherine of Castill the Emperours awnt, found himselfe grieued that the Emperour should take her part and worke vnder hand with the Pope to hinder the diuorce: and gaue his Embassadour commission in good termes to open his griefes to the Emperour, and to expostulat with his Maiestie, for that he seemed to forget the kings great kindnesse and friendship before times vsed with th’Emperour, aswell by disbursing for him sundry great summes of monie which were not all yet repayd: as also furnishing him at his neede with store of men and munition to
Another Ambassadour vsed the like ouersight by ouerweening himselfe that he could naturally speake the French tongue, whereas in troth he was not skilfull in their termes. This Ambassadour being a Bohemian, sent from the Emperour to the French Court, whereafter his first audience, he was highly feasted and banquetted. On a time, among other a great Princesse sitting at the table, by way of talke asked the Ambassador whether the Empresse his his mistresse when she went a hunting, or otherwise trauailed abroad for her solace, did ride a horsback or goe in her coach. To which the Ambassadour answered vnwares and not knowing the French terme, Par ma foy elle chenauche fort bien; & si en prend grand plaisir. She rides (saith he) very well, and takes great pleasure in it. There was good smiling one vpon another of the Ladies and Lords, the Ambassador wist not whereat, but laughed himselfe for companie. This word Chenaucher in the French tongue hath a reprobate sence, specially being spoken of a womans riding.
And as rude and vnciuill speaches carry a marueilous great indecencie, so doe sometimes those that be ouermuch affected and nice: or that doe fauour of ignorance or adulation, and be in the eare of graue and wise persons no lesse offensive than the other: as when a sutor in Rome came to Tiberius the Emperor and said, I would open my case to your Maiestie, if it were not to trouble your sacred businesse, sacras vestras occupationes as the Historiographer reporteth. What meanest thou by that terme quoth the Emperor, say laboriosas I pray thee, & so thou maist truely say, and bid him leaue off such affected flattering termes.
The like vndencie vsed a Herald at armes sent by Charles the fifth Emperor, to Fraunces the first French king, bringing him a message of defiance, and thinking to qualifie the bitterness of his message with words pompous and magnificent for the kings honor, vsed much this terme (sacred Maiestie) which was not vsually geuen to the French king, but to say for the most part [Sire] The French king neither liking his errant, nor yet of his pompous speech, said somewhat sharply, I pray thee good fellow clawe me not where I itch not with thy sacred maiestie but goe to they businesse, and tell thine errand in such termes as are decent betwixt enemies, for thy master is not my frend, and turned him to a Prince of the bloud who stoode by, saying, me thinks this fellow speakes like Bishop Nicholas, for on Saint Nicholas night commonly the Scholars of the Countrey make them a Bishop, who like a foolish boy, goeth about blessing and preaching with so childish termes, as maketh the people laugh at his foolish counterfait speeches.
And yet in speaking or writing of a Princes affaires & fortunes there is a certaine Decorum, that we may not vse the same termes in their busines, as we might very wel doe in a meaner persons, the case being all one, such reuerence is due to their estates. As for example, if an Historiographer shal write of an Emperor or King, how such a day hee ioyned battel with his enemie, and being ouer-laide ranne out of the fielde, and tooke his heeles, or put spurre to his horse and fled as fast as he could: the termes be not decent, but of a meane souldier or captaine, it were not vndecently spoken. And as one, who translating certaine bookes of Virgils AEneidos into English meetre, said that AEneas was fayne to trudge out of Troy: which terme became better to be spoken of a beggar, or of a rogue, or a lackey: for so wee vse to say to such maner of people, be trudging hence.
Another Englishing this word of Virgill [fato profugus] called AEneus [by fate a fugitiue] which was vndecently spoken, and not to the Authours intent in the same word: for whom he studied by all means to auaunce aboue all other men of the world for virtue and magnanimitie he meant not to make him a fugitiue. But by occasion of his great distresses, and of the hardnesse of his destinies, he would haue it appeare that AEneas was enforced to flie out of Troy, and for many yeeres to be a romer and a wandrer about the world both by land and sea [fato profugus] and never to find any resting place till he came into Italy, so as ye may euidently perceiue in this terme [fugitiue] a notable indignity offred to that princely person, and by th’other word a wanderer, none indignitie at all, but rather a terme of much loue and commiseration. The same translatour when he came to these words: Insignem pietate virum tot voluere casus tot adire labores compulit. Hee turned it thus, what moued Iuno to tugge so great a captaine as AEneus, which word tugge spoken in this case is so vndecent as none other coulde haue bene deuised, and tooke his first originall from the cart, because it signifieth the pull or draught of the oxen or horses, and therefore the leathers that beare the chiefe stresse of the draught, the cartars call them tugges, and so wee vse to say that shrewd boyes tugge each other by the eares, for pull.
Another of our vulgar makers, spake as illfaringly in this verse written to the dispraise of a rich man and couetous. Thou hast a misers minde (thou hast a princes pelfe) a lewde terme to be spoken of a princes treasure, which in no respect nor for any cause is to be called pelfe, though it were neuer so meane, for pelfe is properly the scrappes or shreds of taylors and of skinners, which are accompted of so vile price as they be commonly cast out of dores, or otherwise bestowed vpon base purposes: and carrieth not the like reason or decencie, as when we
And some speech may be whan it is spoken very vndecent, and yet the same hauing afterward somewhat added to it may become prety and decent, as was the stowte worde vfed by a captaine in Fraunce, who sitting at the lower end of the Duke of Guyses table among many, the day after there had bene a great battaile foughten, the Duke finding that this captaine was not seene that day to do any thing in the field, taxed him priuily thus in al the hearings. Where were you Sir the day of the battaile, for I saw ye not? the captaine answered promptly: where ye durst not haue bene: and the Duke began to kindle with the worde, which the Gentleman perceiuing, said spedily: I was that day among the carriages, where your excellencie would not for a thousand crownes haue bene seene. Thus from vndecent it came by a wittie reformation to be made decent againe.
The like hapned on a time at the Duke of Northumberlandes bourd, where merry John Heywood was allowed to sit at the tables end. The Duke had a very noble and honorable mynde always to pay his debts well, and when he lacked money, would not stick to sell the greatest part of his plate: so had he done few dayes before. Heywood being loth to call for his drinke so oft as he was dry, turned his eye toward the cupbord and sayd I finde great misse of your graces standing cups: the Duke thinking he had spoken it of some knowledge that his plate was lately sold, said somewhat sharpely, why Sir will not those cuppes serue as good a man as your selfe. Heywood readily replied. Yes if it please your grace, but I would haue one of them stand still at myne elbow full of drinke that I might not be driuen to trouble your men so often to call for it. This pleasant and speedy reuers of the former wordes holpe all the matter againe, whereupon the Duke became very pleasaunt and dranke a bolle of wine to Heywood, and bid a cup should alwayes be standing by him.
It were to busie a peece of worke for me to tell you of all the partes of decencie and indecency which haue bene obserued in the speaches of man & in his writings, and this that I tell you is rather to solace your eares with pretie conceits after a sort of long scholasticall preceptes which may happen haue doubled them, rather then for any other purpose of institution or doctrine, which to any Courtier of experience, is not necessarie in this behalfe. And as they appeare by the former examples to rest in our speach and writing: so do the same by like proportion consist in the whole behauiour of man, and that which he doth well and commendably is euer decent, and the contrary vndecent, not in euery mans iudgement alwayes one, but after their seuerall discretion and by circumstance diuersly, as by the next Chapter shalbe shewed.
CHAP. XXIIII.
Of decencie in behauiour which also belongs to the consideration of the Poet or maker.
And there is a decency to be obserued in euery mans action & behauiour aswell as in his speach & writing which some peraduenture would thinke impertinent to be treated of in this booke, where we do but informe the commendable fashions of language & stile: but that is otherwise, for the good maker or poet who is in decent speach & good termes to describe all things and with prayse or dispraise to report euery mans behauiour, ought to know the comlinesse of an action aswell as of a word & thereby to direct himselfe both in praise & perswation or any other point that perteines to the Oratours arte. Wherefore some examples we will set downe of this maner of decency in behauiour leauing you for the rest to our booke which we haue written de Decoro, where ye shall see both partes handled more exactly. And this decencie of mans behauiour aswell as of his speach must also be deemed by discretion, in which regard the thing that may well become one man to do may not become another, and that which is seemely to be done in this place is not so seemely in that, and at such a time decent, but at another time vndecent, and in such a case and for such a purpose, and to this and that end and by this and that euent, perusing all the circumstances with like consideration. Therefore we say that it might become king Alexander to giue a hundreth talentes to Anaxagoras the Philosopher, but not for a beggerly Philosopher to accept so great a gift, for such a Prince could not be impouerished by that expence, but the Philosopher was by it excessiuely to be enriched, so was the kings action proportionable to his estate and therefore decent, the Philosophers, disproportionable both to his profession and calling and therefore indecent.
And yet if we shall examine the same point with a clearer discretion, it may be said that whatsoeuer it might become king Alexander of his regal largesse to bestow vpon a poore Philosopher vnasked, that might aswell become the Philosopher to receiue at his hands without refusal, and had otherwise bene some empeachement of the kings abilitie or wisedome, which had not bene decent in the Philosopher, nor the immoderatenesse of the kinges gift in respect of the Philosophers meane estate made his acceptance the lesse decent, since Princes liberalities are not measured by merite nor by other mens estimations, but by their owne appetites and according to their greatnesse. So said king Alexander very like himselfe to one Perillus to whom he had geuen a very great gift, which he made curtesy to accept, saying it was too much for such a mean person, what quoth the king if it be too much for thy self, hast thou neuer a friend or kinsman that may fare the better by it? But peraduenture if any such immoderat gift had bene craued by the Philosopher and not voluntarily offred by the king it had bene vndecent
In Italy and Fraunce I haue knowen it vsed for common pollicie, the Princes to differre the bestowing of their great liberalities as Cardinalships and other high dignities & offices of gayne, till the parties whom they should seeme to gratifie be so old or so sicke as it is not likely they should long enioy them.
In the time of Charles the ninth French king, I being at the Spaw waters, there lay a Marshall of Fraunce called Monsieur de Sipier, to vse those waters for his health, but when the Phisitions had all giuen him vp, and that there was no hope of life in him, came from the king to him a letters patents of six thousand crownes yearely pension during his life with many comfortable wordes: the man was not so much past remembraunce, but he could say to the messenger trop tard, trop tard, it should haue come before, for in deede it had bene promised long and came not till now that he could not fare the better by it.
And it became king Antiochus, better to bestow the faire Lady Stratonica his wife vpon his sonne Demetrius, who lay sicke for her loue and would else haue perished, as the Physitions cunningly discouered by the beating of his pulse, then it could become Demetrius to be inamored with his fathers wife, or to enioy her of his guilt, because the fathers act was led by discretion and of a fatherly compassion, not grutching to depart from his deerest possession to saue his childes life, where as the sonne in his appetite had no reason to lead him to loue vnlawfully, for whom it had rather bene decent to die, then to haue violated his fathers bed with safetie of his life.
No more would it be seemely for an aged man to play the wanton like a child, for it stands not with the conueniency of nature, yet when king Agesilaus hauing a great sort of little children, was one day disposed to solace himself among them in a gallery where they plaied, and tooke a little hobby horse of wood and bestrid it to keepe them in play, one of his friends seemed to mislike his lightnes, o good friend quoth Agesilaus, rebuke me not for this fault till thou haue children of thine owne, shewing in deede that it came not of vanitie but of a fatherly affection, ioying in the sport and company of his little children, in which respect and as that place and time serued, it was dispenceable in him & not indecent.
And in the choise of a man’s delights & maner of his life, there is a decencie, and so we say th’old man generally is no fit companion for the young man, nor the rich for the poore, nor the wise for the foolish. Yet in some respects and by discretion it may be otherwise, as when the old man hath the gouernment of the young, the wise teaches the foolish, the rich is wayted on by the poore for their reliefe, in which regard the conuersation is not indecent.
And Proclus the Philosopher knowing how euery indecencie is vnpleasant to nature, and namely, how vncomely a thing it is for young men to doe as old men doe (at leastwise as young men for the most part doe take it) applyed it very wittily to his purpose: for hauing his sonne and heire a notable vnthrift, & delighting in nothing but in haukes and hounds and gay apparrell, and such like vanities, which neither by gentle nor sharpe admonitions of his father, could make him leaue. Proclus himselfe not onely bare with his sonne, but also vsed it himselfe for company, which some of his frends greatly rebuked him for, saying, o Proclus, an olde man and a Philosopher to play the foole and lasciuious more than the sonne. Mary, quoth Proclus, & therefore I do it, for it is the next way to make my sonne change his life, when he shall see how vndecent it is in me to leade such a life, and for him being a yong man, to keepe companie with me being an old man, and to doe that which I doe.
So is it not vnseemely for any ordinarie Captaine to winne the victory or any other auantage in warre by fraud & breach of faith: as Hanniball with the Romans, but it could not well become the Romaines managing so great an Empire, by examples of honour and iustice to doe as Hanniball did. And when Parmenio in a like case perswaded king Alexander to breake the day of his appointment, and to set vpon Darius at the sodaine, which Alexander refused to doe, Parmenio saying, I would doe it if I were Alexander, and I too quoth Alexander if I were Parmenio: but it behooueth me in honour to fight liberally with mine enemies, and iustly to ouercome. And thus ye see that was decent in Parmenios action, which was not in the king his masters.
A great nobleman and Counseller in this Realme was secretlie aduised by his friend, not to vse so much writing his letters in fauour of euery man that asked them, specially to the Iudges of the Realme in cases of iustice. To whom the noble man answered, it becomes vs Councellors better to vse instance for our friend, then for the Iudges to sentence at instance: for whatsoeuer we doe require them, it is in their choise to refuse to doe, but for all that the example was ill and dangerous.
And there is a decencie in chusing the times of a mans busines, and as the Spaniard sayes, es tiempo de negotiar, there is a fitte time for euery man to performe his businesse in, & to attend his affaires, which out of that time would be vndecent: as to sleepe al day and wake al night, and to goe a hunting by torch-light as an old Earle of Arundel vsed to doe, or for any occasion of little importance, to wake a man out of his sleepe, or to make him rise from his dinner to talke with him, or such like importunities, for so we call euery vnseasonable action, and the vndecencie of time.
Callicrasides being sent Ambassador by the Lacedemonians, to Cirus the young king of Persia to contract him for money and men toward their warres against the Athenians, came to the Court at such vnseasonable time as the king was yet in the midst of his dinner and went away againe saying, it is now no time to interrupt the kings mirth. He came againe another day in the after noone, and finding the king ar a rere-banquet, and to haue taken the wine somewhat plentifully, turned back againe, saying, I thinke there is no houre fitte to deal with Cirus_, for he is euer in his banquets; I will rather leaue all business vndone, then doe any thing that shall not become the Lacedemonians: meaning to offer conference of so great importance to his Countrey, with a man so distempered by surfet as hee was not likely to geue him any reasonable resolution in the cause.
One Eudamidas brother to the king Agis of Lacedemonia, coming by Zenocrates schoole and looking in, saw him sit in his chaire, disputing with a long hoare beard, asked who it was, one answered, Sir it is a wise man and one of them searches after virtue, and if he haue not yet found it quoth Eudamidas when will he vse it, that now at his yeares is seeking after it, as who would say it is not time to talke of matters when they should be put in execution nor for an old man to be to seeke what virtue is, which all his youth he should haue had in exercise.
Another time coming to heare a notable Philosopher dispute, it happened, that all was ended euen as he came, and one of his familiars would haue had him requested the Philosopher to beginner againe, that were indecent and nothing ciuill quoth Eudamidas, for if he should come to me supperlesse when I had supped before, were it seemely for him to pray me to suppe againe for his companie?
And the place makes a thing decent or indecent, in which consideration one Eubondae being sent Embassadour into a forraine realme, some of his familiars tooke occasion at the table to praise the wines and women of that country in prefence of their owne husbands, which th’embassadour mislikes, and when supper was ended and the guestes departed, tooke his familiars aside, and told them that is was nothing decent in a strange country to praise thewomen, nor specially a wife before her husbands face, for inconueniencie that might rise thereby, aswell to the prayser as to the woman, and that the chief commendation of a chaste matrone, was to be known onely to her husband, and not to be observed by strangers and guestes.
And in the vse of apparel there is no little decency and vndecencie to be perceiued, as well for the fashion as the stuffe, for it is comely that euery estate and vocation should be knowen by the differences of their habit: a Clarke from a lay man: a gentleman from a yeoman: a souldier from a citizen, and the chief of euery degree from their inferiours, because in confusion and disorder there is no manner of decencie.
The Romaines of any other people most seuere censurers of decencie, thought no vpper garment so comely for a ciuill man as a long playted qowne, because it sheweth much grauitie & also pudicitie, hiding euery member of the body which had not bin pleasant to behold. In somuch as a certain Proconsull or Legat of theirs dealing one day with Ptolome king of Egypt, seeing him clad in a straite narrow garment very licentiously, disclosing euery part of his body, gave him a great checke for it: and said that vnlesse he vsed more saf and comely garments, the Romaines would take no pleasure to hold amitie with him, for by the wantonness of his garment they would iudge the vanitie of his mind, not to be worthy of their constant friendship. A pleasant old courtier wearing one day in the sight of a great councellour,
And there is a decency of apparel in respect of the place where it is to be vsed: in the Court to be richely apparelled: in the countrey to weare more plain & homely garments. For who would not thinke it a ridiculous thing to see a Lady in her milke-house with a velvet gowne, and at a bridal in her cassock of mockado: a Gentleman of the Countrey among the bushes and briers, goes in a pounced dublet and a paire of embroidered hosen, the the Cities to weare a fries Ierkin and a paire of leather breeches? yet some such phantasticals haue I knowen, and one a certaine knight, of all other the most vaine, who commonly would come to the Sessions, and other ordinarie meetings and Commissions in the Countrey, so bedect with buttons and aglets of gold and such costly embroideries, as the poore plaine men of the Countrey called him for his gaynesse, the golden knight. Another for the like cause was called Saint Sunday; I thinke at this day they be so farre spent, as either of them would be content with a good cloath cloake: and this came by want of discretion, to discerne and deeme right of decencie, which many Gentlemen doe wholly limite by the person or degree where reason doeth it by the place and presence: which may be such as it might very well become a great Prince to wear courser apparel than in another place or presence a meaner person.
Neuerthelesse in the vse of a garment many occasions alter the decencies, sometimes the qualities of the person, sometimes of the case, otherwise the countrie custome, and often the constitution of lawes, and the very nature of vse it selfe. As for example a king and prince may vse rich and gorgeous apparel decently so cannot a meane person doo, yet if an herald of armes to whom a king giueth his gowne of cloth of gold, or to whom it was incident as a fee of his office, do were the same, he doth it decently, because such hath alwaise bene th’allowances of heraldes: but if such herald haue worne out, or sold, or lost that gowne, to buy him a new of the like stuffe with his owne mony and to weare it, is not decent in the eye and iudgement of them that know it.
And the country custome maketh things decent in ves as in Asia for all men to weare long gownes both a foot and horsebacke: in Europa short gaberdins, or clokes, or iackets, euen for their vpper garments. The Turke and Persian to weare great tolibants of ten, fifteene, and twentie elles of linen a peece vpon their heads, which can not be remooued: in Europe to were caps or hats, which vpon euery occasion of salutation we vse to put of as a signe of reuerence. In th’East partes the men to make water couring like women, with vs standing as a wall. With them to congratulat and salute by giuing a becke with the head, or a bende of the bodies, with vs here in England, and in Germany, and all other Northern parts of the world to shake handes. In France, Italie, and Spaine to embrace ouer the shoulder, vnder the armes, at the very knees, according the superiors degree. With vs the wemen giue their mouth to be kissed in other places their cheek, in many places their hand, or in steed of an offer to the hand, to say these words Beso los manos. And yet some others surmounting in all courtly ciuilitie will say, Los manos & los piedes. And aboue that reach too, there be that will say to the Ladies, Lombra de fus pisadae, the shadow of your steps. Which I recite vnto you to shew the phrase of those courtly seruitours in yeelding the mistresses honour and reuerence.
And it is seen that very particular vse of it selfe makes a matter of much decencie and vndecencie, without any countrey custome or allowance, as if one that hath many yeares worne a gowne shall come to be seen weare a iakquet or ierkin, or he that hath many yeares worne a beard or long haire among those that had done the contrary, and come sodainly to be pold and shauen, it will seeme not only to himself, a deshight and very vndecent, but also to all others that neuer vsed to go so, vntill the time and custome haue abrogated that mislike.
So it was in England till her Maiesties most noble father for diuers good respects, caused his owne head and all his Courtiers to be polled and his beard to be cut short. Before that was thought more decent both for old men and young to be all shauen and to weare long haire either rounded or square. Now againe at this time, the young Gentlemen of the Court haue taken vp the long haire trayling on their shoulders, and thinke it more decent: for what respect I would be glad to know.
The Lacedemonians bearing long bushes of haire, finely kept & curled vp, vsed this ciuill argument to maintaine that custome. Haire (say they) is the very ornament of nature appointed for the head, which therforeto vse in his most sumptuous degree is comely, specially for them that be Lordes, Maisters of men, and of a free life, hauing abilitie & leasure inough to keepe it cleane, and so for a signe of seignorie, riches and libertie, the masters of the Lacedemonians vsed long haire. But their vassals, seruaunts and
And all singularities or affected parts of a mans behauiour seeme vndecent, as for one man to march or let in the street more stately, or to looke more solempnely, or to go more gayly & in other coulours or fashioned garments then another of the same degree and estate.
Yet such singularities haue had many time both good liking and good successe, otherwise then many would haue looked for. As When Dinocrates the famous architect, desirous to be knowen to king Alexander the great, and hauing none acquaintance to bring him to the kings speech he came one day to the Court very strangely apparelled in long skarlet robes, his head compast with a garland of Laurell, and his face all to be slicked with sweet oyle, and stoode in the kings chamber, motioning nothing to any man: newes of this stranger came to the king, who caused him to be brought to his presence, and asked his name and the cause of his repaire to the Court. He aunswered, his name was Dinocrates the Architect, who came to present his Maiestie with a platforme of his own deuising, how his Maiestie might buylde a Citie vpon the mountaine Athos in Macedonia, which should beare the figure of a mans body, and tolde him all how. Forsooth the breast and bulke of his body should rest vpon such a fiat: that hil should be his head, all set with foregrowen woods like haire: his right arme should stretch out to such a hollow bottome as might be like his hand: holding a dish conteyning al the waters that should serue that Citie: the left arme with his hand should hold a valley of all the orchards and gardens of pleasure pertaining thereunto: and either legge should lie vpon a ridge of rocke, very gallantly to behold, and so should accomplish the full figure of a man. The king asked him what commoditie of soyle, or sea, or nauigable riuer lay neere vunto it, to be able to sustaine so great a number of inhabitants. Truly Sire (quoth Dinocrates) I haue not yet considered thereof: for in trueth it is the barest part of all the Countrey of Macedonia. The king smiled at it, and said very honourably, we like your deuice well, and mean to vse your seruice in the building of a Citie, but we wil chuse out a more commodious scituation: and made him attend in that voyage in which he conquered Asia and Egypt, and there made him chiefe Surueyour of his new Cite of Alexandria. Thus did Dinocrates singularitie in attire greatly further him to his aduancement.
Yet are generally all rare things and such as breede maruell & admiration somewhat holding of the vndecent, as when a man is bigger & exceeding the ordinary stature of a man like a Giaunt, or farre vnder the reasonable and common size of men as a dwarfe, and such vndecencies do not angre vs, but either we pittie them or scorne at them.
But at all insolent and vnwoonted partes of a mans
behauiour, we find many times cause to mislike or
to be mistrustfull, which proceedeth of some vndecency
that is in it, as when a man that hath alwaies bene
strange and vnacquainted with vs, will suddenly become
our familiar and domestick: and another that
hath bene alwaies sterne and churlish, wilbe vpon the
suddaine affable and curteous, it is neyther a comely
sight, nor a signe of any good towards vs. Which
the subtill Italian well obserued by the successes
thereof, saying in Prouerbe.
Chi me fa meglio chenon fuole,
Tradito me ha o tradir me vuolo.
He that speakes me fairer, than his woont
was too
Hath done me harme, or meanes for to doo._
Now againe all maner of conceites that stirre vp any vehement passion in a man, doo it by some turpitude or euill and vndecency that is in them, as to make a man angry there must be some iniury or contempt offered, to make him enuy there must proceede some vndeserued prosperitie of his egall or inferiour, to make him pitie some miserable fortune or spectakle to behold.
And yet in euery of the these passions being as it were vndecencies, there is a comelinesse to be discerned, which some men can keepe and some men can not, as to be angry, or to enuy, or to hate, or to pitie, or to be ashamed decently, that is none otherwise then reason requireth. This surmise appeareth to be true, for Homer the father of Poets writing that famous and most honourable poeme called the Iliades or warres of Troy: made his commencement the magnanimous wrath and anger of Achilles in his first verse thus: [Greek: illegible] Sing foorth my muse the wrath of Achilles Peleus sonne: which the Poet would neuer haue done if the wrath of a prince had not beene in some sort comely & allowable. But when Arrianus and Curtius historiographers that wrote the noble gestes of king Alexander the great, came to prayse him for many things, yet for his wrath and anger they reproched him, because it proceeded not of any magnanimitie, but vpon surfet & distemper in his diet, not growing of any iust causes, was exercised to the destruction of his dearest friends and familiers, and not of his enemies nor any other waies so honorably as th’others was, and so could not be reputed a decent and comely anger.
So may al your other passions be vsed decently though the very matter of their originall be grounded vpon some vndecencie, as it is written by a certaine king of Egypt, who looking out of his window, and seing his owne sonne for some grieuous offence, carried by the officers of his iustice to the place of execution: he neuer once changed his countenance at the matter, though the sight were neuer so full of ruth and atrocitie. And it was thought a decent countenance and constant animositie in the king to be so affected, the case concerning so high and rare a peece of his owne iustice. But within few daies after when he beheld out of the same window an old friend and familiar of his, stand begging an almes in the streete, he wept tenderly, remembering their old familiarity and considering how by the mutabilitie of fortune and frailtie of mans estate, it might one day come to passe that he himselfe should fall into the like miserable estate. He therfore had a remorse very comely for a king in that behalfe, which also caused him to giue order for his poore friends plentiful reliefe.
But generally to weepe for any sorrow (as one may doe for pitie) is not so decent in a man: and therefore all high minded persons, when they cannot chuse but shed teares, wil turne away their face as a countenance vndecent for a man to shew, and so will the standers by till they haue supprest such passion, thinking it nothing decent to behold such an vncomely countenance. But for Ladies and women to weepe and shed teares at euery little greefe it is nothing vncomely, but rather a signe of much good nature & meekness of minde, a most decent propertie for that sexe, and therefore they be for the more part more deuout and charitable, and greater geuers of almes than men, and zealous relieuers of prisoners, and beseechers of pardons, and such like parts of commiseration. Yea they be more than so too: for by the common prouerbe, a woman will weepe for pitie to see a gosling goe barefoote.
But most certainly all things that moue a man to laughter, as doe these scurrilities & other ridiculous behauiours, it is for some vndecencie that is found in them: which maketh it decent for euery man to laugh at them. And therefore when we see or heare a natural foole and idiot doe or say any thing foolishly, we laugh not at him: but when he doeth or speaketh wisely, because that is vnlike him selfe: and a buffonne or counterfet foole, to heare him speake wisely which is like himselfe, it is no sport at all, but for such a counterfait to talke and looke foolishly it maketh us laugh, because it is no part of his naturall, for in euery vncomlinesse there must be a certaine absurditie and disproportion to nature, and the opinion of the hearer or beholder to make the thing ridiculous. But for a foole to talke foolishly or a wiseman wisely, there is no such absurditie or disproportion.
And though at all absurdities we may decently laugh, & when they be no absurdities not decently, yet in laughing is there an vndecencie for other respectes sometime, than of the matter it selfe, Which made Philippus sonne to the first Christen Emperour, Phillipus Arabicus sitting with his father one day in the theatre to behold the sports, giue his father a great rebuke because he laughed, saying that it was no comely countenance for an Emperour to bewray in such a publicke place, nor specially to laugh at euery foolish toy: the posteritie gaue the sonne for that cause the name of Philippus Agelastos or without laughter.
I haue seene forraine Embassadours in the Queenes presence laugh so dissolutely at some rare pastime or sport that hath beene made there that nothing in the world could worse haue becomen them, and others very wise men, whether it haue ben of some pleasant humour and complexion, or for other default in the spleene, or for ill education or custome, that could not vtter any graue and earnest speech without laughter, which part was greatly discommended in them.
And Cicero the wisest of any Romane writers, thought it vncomely for a man to daunce: saying, Saltantem sobrium vidi neminem. I neuer saw any man daunce that was sober and his right wits, but there by your leaue he failed, not our young Courtiers will allow it, besides that it is the most decent and comely demeanour of all exultations and reioycements of the hart, which is no lesse naturall to man then to be wise or well learned, or sober.
To tell you the decencies of a number of other behauiours, one might do it to please you with pretie reportes, but to the skilfull Courtiers it shalbe nothing necessary, for they know all by experience without learning. Yet some few remembraunces wee will make you of the most materiall, which our selues haue obserued, and so make an end.
It is decent to be affable and curteous at meales & meetings, in open assemblies more solemne and straunge, in place of authoritie and iudgement not familiar nor pleasant, in counsell secret and sad, in ordinary conferences easie and apert, in conuersation simple, in capitulation subtill and mistrustfull, at mournings and burials sad and sorrowfull, in feasts and bankets merry & ioyfull, in houshold expence pinching and sparing, in publicke entertainement spending and pompous. The Prince to be sumptuous and magnificent, the priuate man liberall with moderation, a man to be in giuing free, in asking spare, in promise slow, in performance speedy, in contract circumspect but iust, in amitie sincere, in ennimitie wily and cautelous [dolus an virtus quis in hoste requirit, saith the Poet] and after the same rate euery sort and maner of businesse or affaire or action hath his decencie and vndecencie, either for the time or place or person or some other circumstaunce, as Priests to be sober and sad, a Preacher by his life to giue good example, a Iudge to be incorrupted, solitarie and vnacqainted with Courtiers or Courtly entertainements, & as the Philosopher saith Oportet iudicem esse rudem & simplicem, without plaite or wrinkle, sower in looke and churlish in speach, contrariwise a Courtly Gentleman to be loftie and curious in countenaunce, yet sometimes a creeper and a curry fauell with his superiours.
And touching the person we say it is comely for a man to be a lambe in the house, and a Lyon in the field, appointing the decencie of his qualitie by the place, by which reason also we limit the comely parts of a woman to consist in foure points, that is to be a shrewe in the kitchin, a saint in the Church, an Angell at the bourd, and an Ape in the bed, as the Chronicle reportes by Mistresse Shore paramour to king Edward the fourth.
Then also there is a decency in respect of the persons with whom we do negotiate, as with the great personages his egals to be solemne and surly, with meaner men pleasant and popular, stoute with the sturdie and milde with the meek, which is a most decent conuersation and not reprochfull or vnseemely, as the prouerbe goeth, by those that vse the contrary, a Lyon among sheepe and a sheepe among Lyons.
Right so in negotiating with Princes we ought to seeke their fauour by humilitie & not by sternnesse, nor to trafficke with them by way of indent or condition, but frankly and by manner of submission to their wils, for Princes may be lead but not driuen, nor they are to be vanquisht by allegation, but must be suffered to haue the victorie and be relented vnto: nor they are not to be challenged for right or iustice, for that is a maner of accusation: nor to be charged with their promises, for that is a kinde of condemnation: and at their request we ought not to be hardly entreated but easily, for that is a signe of deffidence and mistrust in their bountie and gratitude: nor to recite the good seruices which they haue receiued at our hands, for that is but a kind of exprobration, but in crauing their bountie or largesse to remember vnto them all their former beneficences, making no mention of our owne merites, & so it is thankfull, and in praysing them to their faces to do it very modestly: and in their commendations not to be exessiue for that is tedious, and alwayes fauours of suttelty more then of sincere loue.
And in speaking to a Prince the voyce ought to be lowe and not lowde nor shrill, for th’one is a signe of humilitie th’other of too much audacitie and presumption. Nor in looking on them seeme to ouerlooke them, nor yet behold them too stedfastly, for that is a signe of impudence or litle reuerence, and therefore to the great Princes Orientall their seruitours speaking or being spoken vnto abbase their eyes in token of lowlines, which behauiour we do not obserue to our Princes with so good a discretion as they do: & such as retire from the Princes presence, do not by & by turne tayle to them as we do, but go backward or sideling for a reasonable space, til they be at the wal or chamber doore passing out of sight, and is thought a most decent behauiour to their soueraignes. I haue heard that king Henry th’eight her Maiesties father, though otherwise the most gentle and affable Prince of the world, could not abide to haue any man stare in his face or to fix his eye too
And in gaming with a Prince it is decent to let him sometimes win of purpose, to keepe him pleasant, & neuer to refuse his gift, for that is vndutifull: nor to forgiue him his losses, for that is arrogant: nor to giue him great gifts, for that is either insolence or follie: nor to feast him with excessiue charge for that is both vaine and enuious, & therefore the wise Prince king Henry the seuenth her Maiesties grandfather, if his chaunce had bene to lye at any of his subiects houses, or to passe moe meales than one, he that would take vpon him to defray the charge of his dyet, or of his officers and houshold, he would be maruelously offended with it, saying what priuate subiect dare vndertake a Princes charge, or looke into the secret of his expence? Her Maiestie hath bene knowne oftentimes to mislike the superfluous expence of her subiects bestowed vpon her in times of her progresses.
Likewise in matter of aduise it is neither decent to flatter him for that is seruile, neither to be to rough or plaine with him, for that is daungerous, but truly to Counsell & to admonish, grauely not greuously, sincerely not sourely: which was the part that so greatly commended Cineas Counsellour to king Pirrhus, who kept that decencie in all his perswasions, that he euer preuailed in aduice, and carried the king which way he would.
And in a Prince it is comely to giue vnasked, but in a subiect to aske vnbidden: for that first is signe of a bountifull mynde, this of a loyall & confident. But the subiect that craues not at his Princes hand, either he is of no desert, or proud, or mistrustfull of his Princes goodnesse: therefore king Henry th’eight to one that entreated him to remember one Sir Anthony Rouse with some reward for that he had spent much and was an ill beggar: the king aunswered (noting his insolencie,) If he be ashamed to begge, we are ashamed to giue, and was neuerthelesse one of the most liberall Princes of the world.
And yet in some Courts it is otherwise vsed, for in Spaine it is thought very vndecent for a Courtier to craue, supposing that it is the part of an importune: therefore the king of ordinarie calleth euery second, third or fourth yere for his Checker roll, and bestoweth his mercedes of his owne meere motion, and by discretion, according to euery mans merite and condition.
And in their commendable delights to be apt and accommodate, as if the Prince be geuen to hauking, hunting, riding of horses, or playing vpon instruments, or any like exercise, the seruitour to be the same: and in their other appetites wherein the Prince would seeme an example of vertue, and would not mislike to be egalled by others: in such cases it is decent their seruitours & subiects studie to be like to them by imitation, as in wearing their haire long or short, or in this or that sort of apparrell, such excepted as be only fitte for Princes and none els, which were vndecent for a meaner person to imitate or counterfet: so is it not comely to counterfet their voice, or looke, or any other gestures that be not ordinary and naturall in euery common person: and therefore to go vpright or speake or looke assuredly, it is decent in euery man. But if the Prince haue an extraordinarie countenance or manner of speech, or bearing of his body, that for a common seruitour to counterfet is not decent, and therefore it was misliked in the Emperor Nero, and thought uncomely for him to counterfet Alexander the great by holding his head a little awrie, & neerer toward the tone shoulder, because it was not his own naturall.
And in a Prince it is decent to goe slowly, and to march with leysure, and with a certaine granditie rather than grauitie: as our soueraine Lady and mistresse, the very image of maiestie and magnificence, is accustomed to doe generally, vnlesse it be when she walketh apace for her pleasure, or to catch her a heate in the colde mornings.
Neuerthelesse, it is not so decent in a meaner person, as I haue obserued in some counterfet Ladies of the Countrey, which vse it much to their owne derision. This comelines was wanting in Queene Marie, otherwise a very good and honourable Princesse. And was some blemish to the Emperor Ferdinando, a most noble minded man, yet so carelesse and forgetfull of himselfe in that behalfe, as I haue seene him runne vp a paire of staires so swift and nimble a pace as almost had not become a very meane man, who had not gone in some hastie businesse.
And in a noble Prince nothing is more decent and welbeseeming his greatnesse than to spare foule speeches, for that breedes hatred, and to let none humble suiters depart out of their presence (as neere as may be) miscontented. Wherein her Maiestie hath of all others a most Regall gift, and nothing inferior to the good Prince Titus Vespasianus in that point.
Also, not to be passionate for small detriments or offences, nor to be a reuenger of them, but in cases of great iniurie and specially of dishonors: and therein to be the very sterne and vindicatiue, for that sauours of Princely magnanimitie: nor to seeke reuenge vpon base and obscure persons, ouer whom the conquest is not glorious, nor the victorie honourable, which respect moued our soueraign Lady (keeping alwaies the decorum of a Princely person)
And with these examples I thinke sufficient to leaue, geuing you information of this one point, that all your figures Poeticall or Rhethoricall are but obseruations of strange speeches and such as without any arte at al we should vse, & commonly do, euen by very nature without discipline But more or lesse aptly and decently, or scarcely, or aboundantly, or of this or that kind of figure, & one of vs more then another, according to the disposition of our nature, constitution of the heart, & facilities of each mans vtterance: so as we may conclude, that nature her selfe suggesteth the figure in this or that forme: but arte aydeth the iudgement of his vse and application, which geues me occasion finally and for a full conclusion to this whole treatise, to enforme you in the next chapter how art should be vsed in all respects, and specially in this behalfe of language, and when the naturall is more commendable then the artificiall, and contrariwise.
CHAP. XXV.
That the good Poet or maker ought to dissemble his arte, and in what cases the artificiall is more commended then the naturall, and contrariwise.
And now (most excellent Queene) having largely said of Poets & Poesie and about what matters they be employed: then of all the commended fourmes of Poemes, thirdly of metricall proportions, such as do appertaine to our vulgar arte: and last of all set forth the poeticall ornament consisting chiefly in the beautie and gallantness of his language and stile, and so haue apparelled him to our seeming, in all his gorgious habilliments, and pulling him first from the carte to the schoole, and from thence to the Court, and preferred him to your Maiesties seruice, in that place of great honour and magnificence to geue entertainment to Princes, Ladies of honour, Gentlewomen and Gentlemen, and by his many moodes of skill, to serue the many humors of men thither haunting and resorting, some by way of solace, some of serious aduise and in matters aswell profitable as pleasant and honest. Wee haue in our humble conceit sufficiently perfourmed our promise or rather dutie to your Maiestie in the description of this arte, so alwaies as we leaue him not vnfurnisht of one peece that best befeemes that place of any other, and may serue as a principall good lesson for al good makers to beare continually in mind, in the vsage of this science: which is that being now lately become a Courtier he shew not himself a craftsman, & merit to be disgraded, & with scorne sent
But it must be either a dry dropsie, or a megrim or letarge, or a fistule in ano, or some such other secret disease, as the common conuersant can hardly discouer, and the Phisition either not speedily heale, or not honestly bewray? of which infirmities the scoffing Pasquil wrote, Vleus vesicae renum dolor in peno scirrus. Or as I haue seene in diuers places where many make themselues hart whole, when in deede they are full sicke, bearing it stoutly out to the hazard of their health, rather then they would be suspected of any lothsome infirmity, which might inhibit them from the Princes presence, or entertainment of the ladies. Or as some other do to beare a port of state & plentie when they haue neither penny nor possession, that they may not seeme to droope, and be reiected as vnworthy or insufficient for the greater seruices, or be pitied for their pouertie, which they hold for a marueilous disgrace as did the poore Squire of Castile, who had rather dine with a sheepes head at home & drinke a cruse of water to it, then to haue a good dinner giuen him by his friend who was nothing ignorant of his pouertie. Or as others do to make wise they be poore when they be riche, to shunne thereby the publicke charges and vocations, for men are not now a dayes (specially in states of Oligarchie as the most in our age) called somuch for their wisedome as for their wealth, also to auoyde enuie of neighbours or bountie in conuersation, for whosoeuer is reputed rich cannot without reproch, but be either a lender or a spender. Or as others do to seeme very busie when they haue nothing to doo, and yet will make themselues so occupied and ouerladen in the Princes affaires, as it is a great matter to haue a couple of wordes with them, when notwithstanding they lye sleeping on their beds all an after noone, or sit solemnly at cardes in their chambers, or enterteyning of the Dames, or laughing and gibing with their familiars foure houres by the clocke, whiles the poore suter desirous of his dispatch is aunswered by some Secretarie or page il fault attendre, Monsieur is dispatching the kings businesse into Languedock, Prouence Piemont, a common phrase with the Secretaries of France. Or as I haue obserued in many of the Princes Courts of Italie, to seeme idle when they be earnestly occupied & entend to nothing but mischieuous practizes, and do busily negotiate by coulor of otiation. Or as others of them that go ordinarily to Church and neuer pray to winne an opinion of holinesse: or pray still apace, but neuer do good deede, and geue a begger a penny and spend a pound on a harlot, to speake faire to a mans face, and foule behinde his backe, to set him at his trencher and yet sit on his skirts for so we vse to say by a fayned friend, then also to be rough and churlish in speach and apparance, but inwardly affectionate and fauouring, as I haue sene of the greatest podestates and grauest iudges and Presidentes of Parliament in Fraunce.
These & many such like disguisings do we find in mans behauiour, & specially in the Courtiers of forraine Countreyes, where in my youth I was brought vp, and very well obserued their maner of life and conuersation, for of mine owne Countrey I haue not made so great experience. Which parts, neuerthelesse, we allow not now in our English maker, because we haue geuen him the name of an honest man, and not of an hypocrite: and therefore leauing these manner of dissimulations to all base-minded men, & of vile nature or misterie, we doe allow our Courtly Poet to be a dissembler only in the subtilties of his arte: that is, when he is most artificiall, so to disguise and cloake it as it may not appeare, nor seeme to proceede from him by any studie or trade of rules, but to be his naturall: nor so euidently to be descried, as euery ladde that reades him shall say he is a good scholler, but will rather haue him to know his arte well, and little to vse it.
And yet peraduenture in all points it may not be so taken, but in such onely as may discouer his grossenes or his ignorance by some schollerly affectation: which thing is very irkesome to all men of good trayning, and specially to Courtiers. And yet for all that our maker may not be in all cases restrayned, but that he may both vse and also manifest his arte to his great praise, and need no more be ashamed thereof, than a shomaker to haue made a cleanly shoe or a Carpenter to haue buylt a faire house. Therefore to discusse and make this point somewhat cleerer, to weete, where arte ought to appeare, and where not, and when the naturall is more commendable than the artificiall in any humane action or workmanship, we wil examine it further by this distinction.
In some cases we say arte is an ayde and coadiutor to nature, and a furtherer of her actions to good effect, or peraduenture a meane to supply her wants, by renforcing the causes wherein shee is impotent and defectiue, as doth the arte of phisicke, by helping the naturall concoction, retention, distribution, expulsion, and other vertues, in a weake and vnhealthie bodie. Or as the good gardiner seasons his soyle by sundrie sorts of compost: as mucke or marle, clay or sande, and many times by bloud, or lees of oyle or wine, or stale, or perchaunce with more costly drugs: and waters his plants, and weedes his herbes and floures, and prunes his branches, and vnleaues his boughes to let in the sunne: and twentie other waies cherisheth them, and cureth their infirmities, and so makes that neuer, or very seldome any of them miscarry, but bring foorth their flours and fruites in season. And in both these cases it is no smal praise for the Phisition & Gardiner to be called good and cunning artificers.
In another respect arte is not only an aide and coadiutor to nature in all her actions, but an alterer of them, and in some sort a surmounter of her skill, so as by meanes of it her owne effects shall appeare more beautifull or straunge and miraculous, as in both cases before remembred. The Phisition by the cordials hee will geue his patient, shall be able not onely to restore the decayed spirites of man and render him health, but also to prolong the terme of his life many yeares ouer and aboue the stint of his first and naturall constitution. And the Gardiner by his arte will not onely make an herbe, or flowr, or fruite, come forth in his season without impediment, but also will embellish the same in vertue, shape, odour and taste, that nature of her selfe woulde neuer haue done: as to make the single gillifloure, or marigold, or daisie, double: and the white rose, redde, yellow, or carnation, a bitter mellon sweete; a sweete apple, soure; a plumme or cherrie without a stone; a peare without core or kernell, a goord or coucumber like to a horne, or any other figure he will: any of which things nature could not doe without mans help and arte. These actions also are most singular, when they be most artificiall.
In another respect, we say arte is neither an aider nor a surmounter, but onely a bare immitatour of natures works, following and counterfeyting her actions and effects, as the Marmesot doth many countenances and gestures of man, of which sorte are the artes of painting and keruing, whereof one represents the naturall by light colour and shadow in the superficiall or flat, the other in body massife expressing the full and emptie, euen, extant, rabbated, hollow, or whatsoeuer other figure and passion of quantitie. So also the Alchimist counterfeits gold, siluer, and all other mettals, the Lapidarie pearles and pretious stones by glasse and other substances falsified, and sophisticate by arte. These men also be praised for their craft, and their credit is nothing empayred, to say that their conclusions and effects are very artificiall. Finally in another respect arte is as it were an encountrer and contrary to nature, producing effects neither like to hers, nor by participation with her operations, nor by imitation of her paternes, but makes things and produceth effects altogether strange and diuerse, & of such forme & qualitie (nature alwaies supplying stuffe) as she neuer would nor could haue done of her selfe, as the carpenter that builds a house, the ioyner that makes a table or a bedstead, the tailor a garment, the Smith a locke or a key, and a number of like, in which case the workman gaineth reputation by his arte, and praise when it is best expressed & most apparant, & most studiously. Man also in all his actions that be not altogether naturall, but are gotten by study & discipline or exercise, as to daunce by measures, to sing by note, to play on the lute, and such like, it is a praise to be said an artificiall
And yet I am not ignorant that there be artes and methods both to speake and to perswade and also to dispute, and by which the naturall is in some sorte relieued, as th’eye by his spectacle, I say relieued in his imperfection, but not made more perfit then the naturall, in which respect I call those artes of Grammer, Logicke, and Rhetorick not bare imitations, as the painter or keruers craft and worke in a forraine subiect viz. a liuely purtraite in his table of wood, but by long and studious obseruation rather a repetition or reminiscens naturall, reduced into perfection, and made prompt by use and exercise. And so whatsoeuer a man speakes or perswades he doth it not by imitation artificially, but by obseruation naturally (though one follow another) because it is both the same and the like that nature doth suggest: but if a popingay speake, she doth it by imitation of mans voyce artificially and not naturally being the like, but not the same that nature doth suggest to man. But now because our maker or Poet is to play many parts and not one alone, as first to deuise his plat or subiect, then to fashion his poeme,
The Conclusion.
And with this (my most gratious soueraigne Lady) I make an end, humbly beseeching your pardon, in that I haue presumed to hold your eares so long annoyed with a tedious trifle so as vnlesse it preecede more of your owne Princely and naturall mansuetude then of my merite. I feare greatly least you may thinck of me as the Philosopher Plato did of Anueris an inhabitant of the Citie Cirene, who being in troth a very actiue and artificiall man in driuing of a Princes Charriot or Coche (as your Maiestie might be) and knowing it himselfe well enough, comming one day into Platos schoole, and hauing heard him largely dispute in matters Philosophicall, I pray you (quoth he) geue me leaue also to say somewhat of myne arte,
A Table of the Chapters in this booke,
and euery thing in them conteyned.
What a Poet and Poesie is, and who may be said the most excellent Poet in our time. fol. 1
Whether there may be an arte of our English or vulgar Poesie. 3
How Poets were the first Priests, the first Prophets,
the first Legis-lators and Polititiens
in the world. 3
How Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomeers,
and Historiographers, and Orators, and
Musicians in the world. 5
How euery wilde and sauadge people vse a kind of natural
Poesie
in versiete and rime, as our vulgar is.
7
Whence the riming Poesie came first to the Greekes
and Latines,
and how it had altered, and almost spilt
their maner of Poesie. 7
How in the time of Charlemaynes raigne and many yeares
after him,
the Latine Poets wrote in rime.
8
In what reputation Poets and Poesie were in the old
time with
Princes, and otherwise generally, & how
they be now become
contemptible, and for what causes.
11
How Poesie shoulde not be employed vpon vaine conceits,
nor specially those that bee vicious or
infamous. 18
The subiect or matter of Poesie, what it is. 18
Of Poems and their sundrie sortes, and how thereby
the
auncient Poets receaued Surnames.
19
In what forms of Poesie the gods of the gentils were
praysed
and honored.
21
In what forme of Poesie vice, & the common abases
of mans life
were reprehended.
24
How the Poesie for reprehension of vice, was reformed
by two
manner of Poems, more euill than the first.
25
In what forme of Poesie the euill and outrageous behauiours
of Princes were reprehended.
25
In what forme of Poesie the great Princes and dominators
of the world were praised and honoured.
27
Of the places where in auncient time their enterludes
and other
Poemes drammaticke were represented vnto
the people. 28
Of the shepheards or pastorall poesie called Egologue,
and
to what purpose it was first inuented
and deuised. 30
Of historicall Poesie, by which the famous acts of
princes and
the vertuous and worthy liues of our forefathers
were reported. 31
In what forms of poesie vertue in the inferior sort was commended. 34
The forme wherein honest & profitable arts and sciences were treated. 35
In what forme of poesie the amarous affections and
entertainments
were vttered.
36
The forme of poeticall reiocings. 36
The forme of poeticall lamentations. 37
The solemne reioysings at the birth and natiuitie of princes children. 40
The manner of reioysing at weddings and marriages,
specially of great
Ladies and Gentlewomen and Dames of honour.
40
The manner of poesie by which they vttered their bitter
tauntes
or priuy nippes, and witty scoffes and
other merry conceits. 43
What manner of poeme they vsed for memorial of the dead. 45
An auncient forme of poesie by which men did vse to
reproch their
enimies.
46
Of the short poeme called with vs posie. 47
Who in any age have beene the most commended writers
in our English
poesie, and the Authors censure giuen
vpon them. 48
The Table of the second booke.
Of proportion in Staff. 54
Of proportion in Measure. 55
How many sortes of measures we use in our vulgar. 58
Of the distinctions of mans voice and pauses allowed
to our speech,
& of the first pause called Ceszure.
61
Of proportion in concord called Rime. 63
Of accent, stirre and time, evidently perceyued in
the distinction
of mans voice, and in that which maketh
the flowing of a Meetre. 64
Of your Cadences in which the meeter is made Symphonicall,
&
when they be most sweet and solemne.
65
How the good maker will not wrench his word to helpe
his rime,
either by falsifying his accent or his
Ortographie. 67
Of concord in long and short measures, & by neare
or farre
distances, and which of them is most commendable.
68
Of proportion by situation. 69
Of proportion in figure. 75
How if all manner of suddaine innouations were not
very scandalous,
specially in the lawes of any language,
the use of the Greeke
and Latine feet might be brought into
our vulgar poesie &
with good grace inough.
85
A more particular declaration of the Metricall feete
of the Greekes
and Latines, and of your feete of two
times. 91
Of the feet of three times, and what vse we may haue
of them
in our vulgar.
103
Of all the other of three times besides the Dactill. 106
Of your halfe foote in a verse & those verses which
they called
perfect and defective.
107
Of the breaking of your wordes of many sillables,
& when & how
it is to be vsed.
108
The Table of the third booke.
How our writing & speeches publique ought to be figuratiue,
and if they be not doo greatly disgrace
the cause and
purpose of the speaker and writer.
115
How ornament poeticall is of two sortes according
to the
double nature and efficacy of figures.
119
Of language and what speech our maker ought to vse. 119
Of stile, and that it is of three kindes, loftie,
meane,
and low according to the nature of the
subiect. 123
Of the loftie, meane, and low subiect. 127
Of figures and figuratiue speeches. 128
Sixe points set downe by our learned forefathers for
a generall
rule or regiment of all good vtterance,
be it by mouth or by
writing.
129
How the Greekes first and afterwardes the Latines
inuented
new names for euery figure, which this
Author is also enforced
to do in his vulgar arte.
130
A diuision of figures and how they serue in exornation of language. 131
Of Auricular figures apperteyning to single words
and working by
their diuers sounds and audible tunes,
alteration to the eare
onely and not to the minde.
134
Of Auricular figures perteyning to clawses of speech,
and by
them working no little alteration to the
eare. 135
Of Auricular figures working by disorder. 140
Of Auricular figures working by surplusage. 141
Of Auricular figures working by exchange. 142
Of Auricular figures that serue to make the meetre
tuneable and
melodious, but not by defect nor surplusage,
disorder nor exchange. 145
The names of your figures Auricular.
Eclipsis, or the figure of default.
136
Zeugma, or the single supply.
136
Prozeugma, or the ringleader.
137
Mezozeugma, or the middlemarcher.
137
Hypozeugma, or the rerewarder.
137
Sillepsis, or the double supply.
137
Hypozeuxis, or the substitute.
138
Aposiopesis, or the figure of silence, otherwise
called the figure of interruption.
139
Prolepsis, or the propounder.
139
Hiperbaton, or the trespasser.
140
Parenthesis, or the insertour.
140
Histeron proteron, or the preposterous.
141
Enallage, or figure of exchange.
142
Hipallage, or the changeling.
143
Omoioteleton, or the figure of likeloose.
144
Patimion, or figure of like letter.
145
Asindeton, or figure of lose language.
145
Polisindeton, or the coople clause.
146
Irmus, or the long lose.
146
Epitheton, or the qualifier.
147
Endiades, or the figure of twinnes.
147
Of the figures which we call Sensable, because
they alter and affect
the minde by alteration of sense and first
in single words. 148
Metaphora, or the figure of transport.
149
Catacresis, or the figure of abuse.
150
Metonymia, or the misnamer.
150
Antonomasia, or the surnamer.
151
Onomatopeia, or the newnamer.
151
Epitheton, or figure of attribution, otherwise
called the qualifier.
152
Metalepsis, or the far-set.
152
Liptote, or the moderator.
153
Paradiastole, or the currifauel, otherwise
called the soother.
154
Meiosis, or the disabler.
154
Tapinosis, or the abbaser.
154
Synecdoche, or the figure of quick conceit.
154
Of sensable figures appertaining to whole speeches,
and by them affecting and altering the minde by force
of sence and intendment. 155
Allegoria, or figure of faire semblance.
155
Enigma, or the riddle.
157
Parimia, or the prouerbe.
157
Ironia, or the drie mock.
157
Sarcasmus, or the bitter taunt.
158
Asteismus, the merry scoffe, or ciuill iest.
158
Micterismus, or the fleering frumpe.
158
Antiphrasis, or the broad floute.
159
Charientismus, or the priuie nippe.
159
Hyperbole, or the loud lier, otherwise
called the ouerreacher.
159
Periphrasis, or the figure of ambage.
161
Synecdoche, or the figure of quick conceit.
162
Of figures sententious, otherwise called rhetoricall.
163
Anaphora, or the figure of report.
165
Antistrophe, or the counterturne.
165
Simploche, or figure of reiteration.
166
Anadiplosis, or the redouble.
167
Epanalepsis, or the slow returne, otherwise
called the Eccho sound.
167
Epizeuxis, or the vnderlay, otherwise
called the Cuckow spell.
FINIS.