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.