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.