Chapter VII: Part 7

[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. Or as another said to a mouthy Aduocate, _why barkest thou at me so sore?_ Or to call the top of a tree, or of a hill, the crowne of a tree or of a hill: for in deede _crowne_ is the highest ornament of a Princes head, made like a close garland, or els the top of a mans head, where the haire windes about, and because such terme is not applyed naturally to a tree or to a hill, but is transported from a mans head to a hill or tree, therefore it is called by _metaphore_, or the figure of _transport_. And three causes moue vs to vse this figure, one for necessitie or want of a better word, thus: _As the drie ground that thirstes after a showr Seems to reioyce when it is well wet, And speedely brings foorth both grasse and flowr, If lacke of sunne or season doo not let._

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, ô 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 small trifle, not past sixteene shillings matter which he had taken: quoth the king againe, but I warrant you the fellow was sorrie it had not bene sixteene pound: meaning how the malefactors intent was as euill in that trifle, as if it had bene a greater summe of money. In these examples if ye marke there is no griefe or offence ministred as in those other before, and yet are very wittie, and spoken in plaine derision.

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 odious, for although a prayse or other report may be allowed beyond credit, it may not be beyond all measure, specially in the proseman, as he that was a speaker in a Parliament of king _Henry_ the eights raigne, in his Oration which ye know is of ordinary to be made before the Prince at the first assembly of both houses, ould seeme to prayse his Maiestie thus. What should I go about to recite your Maiesties innumerable vertues, euen as much as if I tooke vpon me to number the stares of the skie, or to tell the sands of the sea. This _Hyperbole_ was both _ultra fidem_ and also _ultra modum_, and therefore of a graue and wise Counsellour made the speaker to be accompted a grosse flattering foole: peraduenture if he had vsed it thus, it had bene better and neuerthelesse a lye too, but a more moderate lye and no lesse to the purpose of the kings commendation, thus. I am not able with any wordes sufficiently to expresse your Maiesties regall vertues, your kingly merites also towardes vs your people and realme are so exceeding many, as your prayses therefore are infinite, your honour aud renowne euerlasting: And yet all this if we shall measure it by the rule of exact veritie, is but an vntruth, yet a more cleanely commendation then was maister Speakers. Neuerthelesse as I said before if we fall a praysing, specially of our mistresses vertue, bewtie, or other good parts, we be allowed now and then to ouer-reach a little by way of comparison as he that said thus in prayse of his Lady. _Giue place ye louers here before, That spent your boasts and braggs in vaine: My Ladies bewtie passeth more, The best of your I dare well fayne: Then doth the sunne the candle light, Or brightest day the darkest night._

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 and figuratiuely, yet no lesse plaine to a ripe reader, then if it were named expresly, and when all is done, no man can perceyue it to be the thing intended. This is a foule ouersight in any writer as did a good fellow, who weening to shew his cunning, would needs by periphrase expresse the realme of Scotland in no lesse then eight verses, and when he had said all, no man could imagine it to be spoken of Scotland: and did besides many other faults in his verse, so deadly belie the matter by his description, as it would pitie any good maker to heare it.

[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.