Chapter VIII: Part 8

[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.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition when in one verse or clause of a verse,
ye iterate one word without any intermission, as thus:
_It was Maryne, Maryne that wrought mine woe._

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.
_Wylie worldling come tell me I thee pray,
Wherein hopest thou, that makes thee so to swell?
Riches? alack it taries not a day,
But where fortune the fickle list to dwell:
In thy children? how hardlie shalt thou finde,
Them all at once, good and thriftie and kinde:
Thy wife? o' faire but fraile mettall to trust,
Seruants? what theeues? what threachours and iniust?
Honour perchance? it restes in other men:
Glorie? a smoake: but wherein hopest thou then?
In Gods iustice? and by what merite tell?
In his mercy? o' now thou speakest wel,
But thy lewd life hath lost his loue and grace,
Daunting all hope to put dispaire in place._

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 citò
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 _Æneas_, 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. _Æneas_ 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 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 of speech is always contemned, with these words, for, because, and such other confirmatiues. The Latines hauing no fitte name to geue it in one single word, gaue it no name at all, but by circumlocution. We also call him the reason-rendrer, and leaue the right English word [_Telcause_] much better answering the Greeke originall. _Aristotle_ was most excellent in vse of this figure, for he neuer propones any allegation, or makes any surmise, but he yeelds a reason or cause to fortifie and proue it, which geues it great credit. For example ye may take these verses, first pointing, than confirming by similitudes. _When fortune shall haue spat out all her gall, I trust good luck shall be to me allowde, For I haue seene a shippe in hauen fall, After the storme had broke both maste and shrowde._

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._