[Sidenote: Synteiosis, or the Crosse copling.] Ye haue another figure which me thinkes may well be called (not much sweruing from his originall in sence) the Crosse-couple, because it takes me two contrary words, and tieth them as it were in a paire of couples, and so makes them agree like good fellowes, as I saw once in Fraunce a wolfe coupled with a mastiffe, and a foxe with a hounde. Thus it is. The niggards fault and the unthrifts is all one, For neither of them both knoweth how to vse his owne.

Or thus. The couetous miser, of all his goods ill got, Aswell wants that he hath, as that he hath not.

In this figure of the Crosse-couple we wrate for a forlorne louer complaining of his mistresse crueltie these verses among other. Thus for your sake I daily dye, And do but seeme to liue in deede: Thus is my blisse but miserie, My lucre losse without your meede.

[Sidenote: Atanaclasis, or the Rebounde.] Ye haue another figure which by his nature we may call the Rebound, alluding to the tennis ball which being smitten with the racket reboundes backe againe, and where the last figure before played with two wordes somewhat like, this playeth with one word written all alike but carrying diuers sences as thus. The maide that soone married is, soone marred is.

Or thus better because married & marred be different in one letter. To pray for you euer I cannot refuse, To pray vpon you I should you much abuse.

Or as we once sported vpon a countrey fellow who came to runne for the best game, and was by his occupation a dyer and had very bigge swelling legges. _He is but course to runne a course, Whose shankes are bigger then his thye: Yet is his lucke a little worse, That often dyes before he dye.

Where ye see this word course, and dye, vsed in diuers sences, one giuing the Rebounde vpon th'other.

[Sidenote: Clymax, or the Marching figure.] Ye haue a figure which as well by his Greeke and Latine originals, & also by allusion to the maner of a mans gate or going may be called the marching figure, for after the first steppe all the rest proceeds by double the space, and so in our speach one word proceedes double to the first that was spoken, and goeth as it were by strides or paces: it may aswell be called the clyming figure, for Clymax is as much to say as a ladder, as in one of our Epitaphes shewing how a very meane man by his wisedome and good forture came to great estate and dignitie. His vertue made him wise, his wisedome broght him wealth, His wealth won many friends, his friends made much supply: Of aides in weale and woe in sicknesse and in health, Thus came he from a low, to sit in state so hye.

Or as Ihean de Mehune the French Poet. Peace makes plentie, plentie makes pride, Pride breeds quarrell, and quarrell brings warre: Warre brings spoile, and spoile pouertie, Pouertie pacience, and pacience peace. So peace brings warre, and warre brings peace.

[Sidenote: Antimetauole, or the Counterchange] Ye haue a figure which takes a couple of words to play with in a verse, and by making them to chaunge and shift one into others place they do very pretily exchange and shift the sence, as thus. We dwell not here to build us boures, And halles for pleasure and good cheare: But halles we build for us and ours, To dwell in then whilst we are here.

Meaning that we dwell not here to build, but we build to dwel, as we liue not to eate, but eate to liue, or thus. We wish not peace to maintaine cruell warre, But we make warre to maintaine us in peace.

Or thus. If Poesie be, as some haue said, A speaking picture to the eye: Then is a picture not denaid, To be a muet Poesie.

Or as the Philosopher Musonius wrote. With pleasure if we worke vnhonestly and ill, The pleasure passeth, the bad it bideth still. Well if we worke with trauaile and with paines, The paine passeth and still the good remaines.

A wittie fellow in Rome wrate vnder the Image of Caesar the Dictator these two verses in Latine, which because they are spoke by this figure of Counterchaunge I haue turned into a couple of English verses very well keeping the grace of the figure. Brutus for casting out of kings, was first of Consuls past, Caesar for casting Consuls out, is of our kings the last.

Cato of any Senatour not onely the grauest but also the promptest and wittiest in any ciuill scoffe, misliking greatly the engrossing of offices in Rome that one should haue many at once, and a great number goe without that were as able men, said thus by Counterchaunge. It seemes your offices are very litle worth, Or very few of you worthy of offices.

Againe: In trifles earnest as any man can bee, In earnest matters no such trifler as hee.

[Sidenote: Insultatio, or the Disdainefull.] Yee haue another figure much like to the Sarcasimus, or bitter taunt wee spake of before: and is when with proud and insolent words, we do vpbraid a man, or ride him as we terme it: for which cause the Latines also call it Insultatio, I chose to name him the Reproachfull or scorner, as when Queene Dido saw, that for all her great loue and entertainements bestowed vpon AEneas, he would needs depart and follow the Oracle of his destinies, she brake out in a great rage and said disdainefully. Hye thee, and by the wild waues and the wind, Seeke Italie and Realmes for thee to raigne, If piteous Gods haue power amidst the mayne, On ragged rocks thy penaunce thou maist find.

Or as the poet Iuuenall reproached the couetous Merchant, who for lucres sake passed on no perill either by land or sea, thus: Goe now and giue thy life unto the winde, Trusting unto a piece of bruckle wood, Foure inches from thy death or seauen good The thickest planke for shipboord that we finde.

[Sidenote: Antitheton, or the renconter] Ye haue another figure very pleasnt and fit for amplification, which to answer the Greeke terme, we may call the encounter, but following the Latine name by reason of his contentious nature, we may call him the Quarreller, for so be al such persons as delight in taking the contrary part of whatsoeuer shalbe spoken: when I was scholler in Oxford they called euery such one Iohannes ad oppositum. Good haue I doone you, much, harme did I neuer none, Ready to ioy your gaines, your losses to bemone, Why therefore should you grutch so sore as my welfare: Who onely bred your blisse, and neuer causd your care.

Or as it is in these two verses where one speaking of Cupids bowe, deciphered thereby the nature of sensual loue, whose beginning is more pleasant than the end, thus allegorically and by antitheton. His bent is sweete, his loose is somewhat sowre, In ioy begunne, ends oft in wofull bowre.

Maister Diar in this quarelling figure. Nor loue hath now the force, on me which it ones had, Your frownes can neither make me mourne, nor fauors make me glad.

Socrates the Greek Oratour was a litle too full of this figure, & so was the Spaniard that wrote the life of Marcus Aurelius & many of our moderne writers in vulgar, vse it in excesse & incurre the vice of fond affectation: otherwise the figure is very commendable.

In this quarrelling figure we once plaid this merry Epigrame of an importune and shrewd wife, thus: My neighbour hath a wife, not fit to make him thriue, But good to kill a quicke man, or make a dead reuiue. So shrewd she is for God, so cunning and so wise, To counter with her goodman, and all by contraries. For when he is merry, she lurcheth and she loures, When he is sad she singes, or laughes it out by houres. Bid her be still her tongue to talke shall neuer cease, When she should speake and please, for spight she holds her peace, Bid spare and she will spend, bid spend she spares as fast, What first ye would haue done, be sure it shalbe last. Say go, she comes, say come, she goes, and leaues him all alone, Her husband (as I thinke) calles her ouerthwart Ione.

[Sidenote: Erotema, or the Questioner.] There is a kinde of figuratiue speach when we aske many questions and looke for none answere, speaking indeed by interrogation, which we might as well say by affirmation. This figure I call the Questioner or inquisitiue, as when Medea excusing her great crueltie vsed in the murder of her owne children which she had by Iason, said: Was I able to make them I praie you tell, And am I not able to marre them all aswell?

Or as another wrote very commendably. _Why strive I with the streame, or hoppe against the hill, On search that neuer can be found, and loose my labour still?

Cato vnderstanding that the Senate had appointed three citizens of Rome for embassadours to the king of Bithinia, whereof one had the Gowte, another the Meigrim, the third very little courage or discretion to be employd in any such businesse, said by way of skoffe in this figure. Must not (trowe ye) this message be well sped, That hath neither heart, nor heeles, nor hed?

And as a great Princesse aunswered her seruitour, who distrusting in her fauours toward him, praised his owne constancie in these verses. No fortune base or frayle can alter me:

To whome she in this figure repeting his words: No fortune base or frayle can alter thee. And can so blind a witch so conquere mee?

[Sidenote: Ecphonisis, or the Outcry.] The figure of exclamation, I call him [the outcrie] because it vtters our minde by all such words as do shew any extreme passion, whether it be by way of exclamation or crying out, admiration or wondering, imprecation or cursing, obtestation or taking God and the world to witnes, or any such like as declare an impotent affection, as Chaucer of the Lady Cresseida by exclamation. O soppe of sorrow soonken into care, O caytife Cresseid, for now and evermare.

Or as Gascoine wrote very passionatly and well to purpose: Ay me the dayes that I in dole consume, Alas the nights which witnesse well mine woe: O wrongfull world which makest my fancie faine Fie fickle fortune, fie, fie thou art my foe: Out and alas so froward is my chance, No nights nor daies, nor worldes can me auance.

Petrarche in a sonet which Sir Thomas Wiat Englished excellently well, said in this figure by way of imprecation and obtestation: thus, Perdie I said it not, Nor neuer thought to doo: Aswell as I ye wot, I haue no power thereto: "And if I did the lot That first did me enchaine, May neuer shake the knot But straite it to my paine. "And if I did each thing, That may do harme or woe: Continually may wring, My harte where so I goe. "Report may alwaies ring: Of shame on me for aye, If in my hart did spring, The wordes that you doo say. "And if I did each starre, That is in heauen aboue. And so forth, &c.

[Sidenote: Brachiologa, or the Cutted comma] We vse sometimes to proceede all by single words, without any close or coupling, sauing that a little pause or comma is geuen to euery word. This figure for pleasure may be called in our vulgar the cutted comma, for that there cannot be a shorter diuision then at euery words end. The Greekes in their language call it short language, as thus. Enuy, malice, flattery, disdaine, Auarice, deceit, falsned, filthy gaine.

If this loose language be vsed, not in single words, but in long clauses, it is called Asindeton, and in both cases we vtter in that fashion, when either we be earnest, or would seeme to make hast.

[Sidenote: Parison, or the Figure of euen] Ye haue another figure which we may call the figure of euen, because it goeth by clauses of egall quantitie, and not very long, but yet not so short as the cutted comma: and they geue good grace to a dittie, but specially to a prose. In this figure we once wrote in a melancholike humor these verses. The good is geason, and short is his abode, The bad bides long, and easie to be found: Our life is loathsome, our sinnes a heavy lode, Conscience a curst iudge, remorse a priuie goade. Disease, age and death still in our eare they round, That hence we must the sickly and the sound: Treading the steps that our forefathers troad, Rich, poore, holy, wise; all flesh it goes to ground.

In a prose there should not be vsed at once of such euen clauses past three or foure at the most.

[Sidenote: Sinonimia, or the Figure of store] When so euer we multiply our speech by many words or clauses of one sence, the Greekes call it Sinonimia, as who would say like or consenting names: the Latines hauing no fitte terme to giue him, called it by a name of euent, for (said they) many words of one nature and sence, one of them doth expound another. And therefore they called this figure the [Interpreter] I for my part had rather call him the figure of [store] because plenty of one manner of thing in our vulgar we call so. AEneas asking whether his Captaine Orontes were dead or aliue, vsed this store of speeches all to one purpose. It he aliue, Is he as I left him queauing and quick, And hath he not yet geuen up the ghost, Among the rest of those that I haue lost?

Or if it be in single words, then thus. What is become of that beautifull face, Those louely lookes, that fauour amiable, Those sweete features, and visage full of grace, That countenance which is alonly able To kill and cure?

Ye see that all these words, face, lookes, fauour, features, visage, countenance, are all in sence but all one. Which store, neuerthelesse, doeth much beautifie and inlarge the matter. So said another. My faith, my hope, my trust, my God and eke my guide, Stretch forth thy hand to saue the soule, what ere the body bide.

Here faith, hope and trust be words of one effect, allowed to vs by this figure of store.

[Sidenote: Metanoia, or the Penitent.] Otherwhiles we speake and be sorry for it, as if we had not wel spoken, so that we seeme to call in our word againe, and to put in another fitter for the purpose: for which respects the Greekes called this manner of speech the figure of repentance: then for that vpon repentance commonly followes amendment, the Latins called it the figure of correction, in that the speaker seemeth to reforme that which was said amisse. I following the Greeke originall, choose to call him the penitent, or repentant: and singing in honor of the mayden Queen, meaning to praise her for her greatnesse of courage ouershooting my selfe, called it first by the name of pride: then fearing least fault might be found with that terme, by & by turned this word pride to praise: resembling her Maiesty to the Lion, being her owne noble armory, which by a slie construction purporteth magnanimitie. Thus in the latter end of a Parthemiade. O peereles you, or els no one aliue, Your pride serues you to seaze them all alone: Not pride madame, but praise of the lion, To conquer all and be conquerd by none.

And in another Parthemiade thus insinuating her Maiesties great constancy in refusall of all marriages offred her, thus: Her heart is hid none may it see, Marble or flinte folke weene it be.

Which may imploy rigour and cruelty, than correcteth it thus. Not flinte I trowe I am a lier, But Siderite that feeles no fire.

By which is intended, that it proceeded of a cold and chast complexion not easily allured to loue.

[Sidenote: Antenagoge, or the Recompencer] We haue another manner of speech much like to the repentant, but doth not as the same recant or vnsay a word that hath bene said before, putting another fitter in his place, but hauing spoken any thing to depraue the matter or partie, he denieth it not, but as it were helpeth it againe by another more fauourable speach and so seemeth to make amends, for which cause it is called by the originall name in both languages, the Recompencer, as he that was merily asked the question; whether his wife were not a shrewe as well as others of his neighbours wiues, answered in this figure as pleasantly, for he could not well denie it. I must needs say, that my wife is a shrewe, but such a huswife as I know but a fewe.

Another in his first preposition giuing a very faint commendation to the Courtiers life, weaning to make him amends, made it worse by a second proposition, thus: The Courtiers life full delicate it is, but where no wise man will euer set his blis.

And an other speaking to the incoragement of youth in studie and to be come excellent in letters and armies, said thus: Many are the paines and perils to be past, But great is the gaine and glory at the last.

[Sidenote: Epithonema, or the Surclose.] Our poet in his short ditties, but specially playing the Epigrammatist will vse to conclude and shut vp his Epigram with a verse or two, spoken in such sort, as it may seeme a manner of allowance to all the premisses, and that wich a ioyfull approbation, which the Latines call Acclamatio, we therefore call this figure the surcloze or consenting close, as Virgill when he had largely spoken of Prince Eneas his successe and fortunes concluded with this close. Tant molis erat Romanum condere gentens.

In English thus: So huge a peece of worke it was and so hie, To reare the house of Romane progenie.

Sir Philip Sidney very pretily closed vp a dittie in this sort. What medcine then, can such disease remoue, Where loue breedes hate, and hate engenders loue.

And we in a Partheniade written of her Maiestie, declaring to what perils vertue is generally subiect, and applying that fortune to her selfe, closed it vp with this Epiphoneme. Than if there bee, Any so cancard hart to grutch, At your glories: my Queene: in vaine, Repining at your fatall raigne; It is for that they feele too much, Of your bountee.

As who would say her owne ouermuch lenitie and goodness, made her ill willers the more bold and presumptuous.

Lucretius Carus the philosopher and poet inueighing sore against the abuses of the superstitious religion of the Gentils, and recompting the wicked fact of king Agamemnon in sacrificing his only daughter Iphigenia, being a yoong damsell of excellent bewtie, to th'intent to please the wrathfull gods, hinderers of his nauigation, after he had said all, closed it vp in this one verse, spoken in Epiphonema. Tantum relligio potuit suadere malorum.

In English thus: Lo what an outrage, could cause to be done, The peevish scruple of blinde religion.

[Sidenote: Auxesis, or the Auancer] It happens many times that to vrge and enforce the matter we speake of, we go still mounting by degrees and encreasing our speech with wordes or with sentences of more waight one then another, & is a figure of great both efficacie & ornament, as he that declaring the great calamitie of an infortunate prince, said thus: He lost besides his children and his wife, His realme, ronowne, liege, libertie and life.

By which it appeareth that to any noble Prince the losse of his estate ought not to be so greeuous, as of his honour, nor any of them both like to the lacke of his libertie, but that life is the dearest detriment of any other. We call this figure by the Greeke originall the Auancer or figure of encrease because every word that is spoken is one of more weight then another. And as we lamented the crueltie of an inexorable and unfaithfull mistresse. If by the lawes of love it be a falt, The faithfull friend, in absence to forget: But if it be (once do thy heart but halt,) A secret sinne: what forfet is so great: As by despute in view of every eye, The solemne vowes oft sworne with teares so salt, As holy Leagues fast seald with hand and hart: For to repeale and breake so wilfully? But now (alas) without all iust desart, My lot is for my troth and much goodwill, To reape disdaine, hatred and rude refuse, Or if ye would worke me some greater ill: And of myne earned ioyes to feele no part, What els is this (o cruell) but to vse, Thy murdring knife to guiltlesse bloud to spill.

Where ye see how she is charged first with a fault, then with a secret sinne, afterward with a foule forfet, last of all with a most cruel & bloudy deede. And thus againe in a certaine lovers complaint made to the like effect. They say it is a ruth to see thy lover neede, But you can see me weepe, but you can see me bleede: And neuer shrinke nor shame, ne shed no teare at all, You make my wounds your selfe, and fill them up with gall: Yea you can see me sound, and faint for want of breath, And gaspe and grone for life, and struggle still with death, What can you now do more, sweare by your maydenhead, The for to flea me quicke, or strip me being dead.

In these verses you see how one crueltie surmounts another by degrees till it come to very slaughter and beyond, for it is thought a despite done to a dead carkas to be an euidence of greater crueltie then to haue killed him.

[Sidenote: Meiosis, or the Disabler.] After the Auancer followeth the abbaser working by wordes and sentences of extenuation or diminution. Whereupon we call him the Disabler or figure of Extenuation: and this extenuation is vsed to diuers purposes, sometimes for modesties sake, and to auoide the opinion of arrogancie, speaking of our selues or of ours, as he that disabled himselfe to his mistresse thus. Not all the skill I haue to speake or do, Which litle is God wot (set loue apart:) Liueload nor life, and put them both thereto, Can counterpeise the due of your desart.

It may be also be done for despite to bring our aduersaries in contempt, as he that sayd by one (commended for a very braue souldier) disabling him scornefully, thus. A iollie man (forsooth) and fit for the warre, Good at hand grippes, better to fight a farre: Whom bright weapon in shew as is said, Yea his owne shade; hath often made afraide.

The subtilitie of the scoffe lieth in these Latin wordes [eminus & cominus pugnare.] Also we vse this kind of Extenuation when we take in hand to comfort or cheare any perillous enterprise, making a great matter seeme small, and of litle difficultie, & is much vsed by captaines in the warre, when they (to giue courage to their souldiers) will seeme to disable the persons of their enemies, and abase their forces, and make light of euery thing than might be a discouragement to the attempt, as Hanniball did in his Oration to his souldiers, when they should come to passe the Alpes to enter Italie, and for sharpnesse of the weather, and steepnesse of the mountaines their hearts began to faile them.

We vse it againe to excuse a fault, & to make an offence seeme lesse then it is, by giuing a terme more fauorable and of lesse vehemencie then the troth requires, as to say of a great robbery, that it was but a pilfry matter: of an arrant ruffian that he is a tall fellow of his hands: of a prodigall foole, that he is a kind hearted man: of a notorious vnthrift, a lustie youth, and such like phrases of extenuation, which fall more aptly to the office of the figure Curry fauell before remembred.

And we vse the like termes by way of pleasant familiaritie, and as it were for Courtly maner of speach with our egalls or inferiours, as to call a young Gentlewoman _Mall_ for _Mary_, _Nell_ for _Elner_: _Iack_ for Iohn_, _Robin_ for _Robert_: or any other like affected termes spoken of pleasure, as in our triumphals calling familiarly vpon our _Muse_, I called her _Moppe_. _But will you weet, My litle muse, nay prettie moppe: If we shall algates change our stoppe, Chose me a sweet._

Vnderstanding by this word (Moppe) a litle prety Lady, or tender young thing. For so we call litle fishes, that be not come to their full growth (moppes), as whiting moppes, gurnard moppes.

Also such termes are vsed to be giuen in derision and for a kind of contempt, as when we say Lording for Lord, & as the Spaniard that calleth an Earle of small reuenue Contadilio: the Italian calleth the poore man by contempt pouerachio or pouerino, the little beast animalculo or animaluchio, and such like diminutiues appertaining to this figure, the (Disabler) more ordinary in other languages than our vulgar.

[Sidenote: Epanodis, or the figure of Retire] This figure of retire holds part with the propounder of which we spake before(prolepsis) because of the resumption of a former proposition vuttered in generalitie to explane the same better by a particular diuision. But their difference is, in that the propounder resumes but the matter only. This [retire] resumes both the matter and the termes, and is therefore accompted one of the figures of repetition, and in that respect may be called by his originall Greeke name the [Resounde] or the [retire] for this word [Greek: illegible] serues both sences resound and retire. The vse of this figure, is seen in this dittie following, Loue hope and death, do stirre in me much strife, As neuer man but I lead such a life: For burning loue doth wound my heart to death: And when death comes at call of inward grief, Cold lingring hope doth feede my fainting breath: Against my will, and yeelds my wound relief, So that I liue, but yet my life is such: As neuer death could greeue me halfe so much.

[Sidenote: Dialisis, or the Dismembrer.] Then haue ye a maner speach, not so figuratiue as fit for argumentation, and worketh not vnlike the dilemma of the Logicians, because he propones two or moe matters entierly, and doth as it were set downe the whole tale or rekoning of an argument and then cleare euery part by it selfe, as thus. It can not be but nigarsdship or neede, Made him attempt this foule and wicked deede: Nigardship not, for alwayes he was free, Nor neede, for who doth not his richesse see?

Or as one than entreated for a faire young maide who was taken by the watch in London and carried to Bridewell to be punished. Now gentill Sirs let this young maide alone, For either she hath grace or els she hath none: If she haue grace, she may in time repent, If she haue none what bootes her punishment.

Or as another pleaded his deserts with his mistresse. Were it for grace, or els in hope of gaine, To say of my deserts, it is but vaine: For well in minde, in case ye do them beare, To tell them oft, it should but irke your eare: Be they forgot: as likely should I faile, To winne with wordes, where deedes can not preuaile.

[Sidenote: Merismus, or the Distributer.] Then haue ye a figure very meete for Orators or eloquent perswaders such as our maker or Poet must in some cases shew him selfe to be, and is when we may coueniently vtter a matter in one entier speach or proportion and will rather do it peecemeale and by distrbution of euery part for amplification sake, as for example he that might say, a house was outragiously plucked downe: will not be satisfied so to say, but rather will speake it in this sort: they first vndermined the groundsills, they beate downe the walles, they vnfloored the loftes, they vntiled it and pulled downe the roofe. For so in deede is a house pulled downe by circumstances, which this figure of distribution doth set forth euery one apart, and therefore I name him the distributor according to his originall, as wrate the Tuscane Poet in a Sonet which Sir Thomas Wyat translated with very good grace, thus. Set me whereas the sunne doth parch the greene, Or where his beames do not dissolue the yce: In temperate heate where he is felt and seene, In presence prest of people mad or wise: Set me in hye or yet in low degree, In longest night or in the shortest day: In clearest skie, or where clouds thickest bee, In lustie youth or when my heares are gray: Set me in heauen, in earth or els in hell, In hill or dale or in the foaming flood: Thrall or at large, aliue where so I dwell, Sicke or in health, in euill fame or good: Hers will I be, and onely with this thought, Content my selfe, although my chaunce be naught.

All which might haue been said in these two verses. Set me wherefoeuer ye will I am and wilbe yours still.

The zealous Poet writing in prayse of the maiden Queene would not seeme to wrap vp all her most excellent parts in a few words them entierly comprehending, but did it by a distributor or merismus in the negatiue for the better grace, thus. Not your bewtie, most gracious soueraine, Nor maidenly lookes, mainteind with maiestie: Your stately port, which doth not match but staine, For your presence, your pallace and your traine, All Princes Courts, mine eye could euer see: Not of your quicke wits, your sober gouernaunce: Your cleare forsight, your faithfull memorie, So sweete features, in so staid countenaunce: Nor languages, with plentuous utterance, So able to discourse, and entertaine: Not noble race, farre beyond Caesars raigne, Runne in right line, and bloud of nointed kings: Not large empire, armies, treasurs, domaine, Lustie liueries, of fortunes dearst darlings: Not all the skilles, fit for a Princely dame, Your learned Muse, with vse and studie brings. Not true honour, ne that immortall fame Of mayden raigne, your only owne renowne And no Queenes els, yet such as yeeldes your name Greater glory than doeth your treble crowne.

And then concludes thus. Not any one of all these honord parts Your Princely happes, and habites that do moue, And, as it were, ensorcell all the hearts Of Christen kings to quarrell for your loue, But to possesse, at once and all the good Arte and engine, and euery starre aboue Fortune or kinde, could farce in flesh and bloud, Was force inough to make so many striue For your person, which in our world stoode By all consents the minionst mayde to wiue.

Where ye see that all the parts of her commendation which were particularly remembred in twenty verses before, are wrapt vp in the two verses of this last part, videl. Not any one of all your honord parts, Those Princely haps and habites, &c.

This figure serues for amplification, and also for ornament, and to enforce perswasion mightely. Sir Geffrey Chaucer, father of our English Poets, hath these verses following in the distributor. When faith failes in Priestes sawes, And Lords hestes are holden for lawes, And robberie is tane for purchase, And lechery for solace Then shall the Realme of Albion Be brought to great confusion.

Where he might haue said as much in these words: when vice abounds, and vertue decayeth in Albion, then &c. And as another said, When Prince for his people is wakefull and wise, Peeres ayding with armes, Counsellors with aduise, Magistrate sincerely vsing his charge, People prest to obey, nor let to runne at large, Prelate of holy life, and with deuotion Preferring pietie before promotion, Priest still preaching, and praying for our heale: Then blessed is the state of a common-weale.

All which might haue bene said in these few words, when euery man in charge and authoritie doeth his duety, & executeth his function well, then is the common-wealth happy.

[Sidenote: Epimone, or the Loue burden.] The Greeke Poets who made musicall ditties to be song to the lute or harpe, did vse to linke their staues together with one verse running throughout the whole song by equall distance, and was, for the most part, the first verse of the staffe, which kept so good sence and conformitie with the whole, as his often repetition did geue it greater grace. They called such linking verse Epimone, the Latines versus intercalaris, and we may terme him the Loue-burden, following the originall, or if it please you, the long repeate: in one respect because that one verse alone beareth the whole burden of the song according to the originall: in another respect, for that it comes by large distances to be often repeated, as in this ditty made by the noble knight Sir Philip Sidney, My true loue hath my heart and I haue his, By iust exchange one for another geuen: I holde his deare, and mine he cannot 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.

[Sidenote: Dichologia, or the Figure of excuse.] Sometimes our error is so manifest, or we be so hardly prest with our aduersaries, as we cannot deny the fault layd vnto our charge: in which case it is good pollicie to excuse it by some allowable pretext, as did one whom his mistresse burdened with some vnkindne speeches which he had past of her, thus. I said it: but by lapse of lying tongue, When furie and iust griefe my heart opprest: I sayd it: as ye see, both fraile and young, When your rigor had ranckled in my brest. The cruell wound that smarted me so sore, Pardon therefore (sweete sorrow) or at least Beare with mine youth that neuer fell before, Least your offence encrease my griefe the more.

And againe in these, I spake amysse I cannot it deny. But caused by your great discourtesie: And if I said that which I now repent, And said it not, but by misgouernment Of youthfull yeres, your selfe that are so young Pardon for once this error of my tongue, And thinke amends can neuer come to late: Loue may be curst, but loue can neuer hate.

[Sidenote: Noema, or the Figure of close conceit.] Speaking before of the figure [Synechdoche] wee called him [Quicke conceit] because he inured in a single word onely by way of intendment or large meaning, but such as was speedily discouered by euery quicke wit, as by the halfe to vnderstand the whole, and many other waies appearing by the examples. But by this figure [Noema] the obscurity of the sence lieth not in a single word, but in an entier speech, whereof we do not so easily conceiue the meaning, but as it were by coniecture, because it is wittie and subtile or darke, which makes me therefore call him in our vulgar the [Close conceit] as he that said by himselfe and his wife, I thanke God in fortie winters that we haue liued together, neuer any of our neighbours set vs at one, meaning that they neuer fell out in all that space, which had bene the directer speech and more apert, and yet by intendment amounts all to one, being neuerthelesse dissemblable and in effect contrary. Pawlet Lord Treasorer of England, and first Marques of Winchester, with the like subtill speech gaue a quippe to Sir William Gifford, who had married the Marques sister, and all her life time cound neuer loue her nor like of her company, but when she was dead made the greatest moane for her in the world, and with teares and much lamentation vttered his griefe to the L. Treasorer, o good brother, quoth the Marques, I am right sory to see you now loue my sister so well, meaning that he shewed his loue too late, and should haue done it while she was aliue.

A great counsellour somewhat forgetting his modestie, vsed these words: Gods lady I reckon my selfe as good a man as he you talke of, and yet I am not able to do so. Yea sir quoth the party, your L. is too good to be a man, I would ye were a Saint, meaning he would he were dead, for none are shrined for Saints before they be dead.

[Sidenote: Orismus, or the Definer of difference.] The Logician vseth a definition to expresse the truth or nature of euery thing by his true kinde and difference, as to say wisedome is a prudent and wittie foresight and consideration of humane or worldly actions with their euentes. This definition is Logicall. The Oratour vseth another maner of definition, thus: Is this wisedome? no it is a certaine subtill knauish craftie wit, it is no industrie as ye call it, but a certaine busie brainsicknesse, for industrie is a liuely and vnweried search and occupation in honest things, egernesse is an appetite in base and small matters.

[Sidenote: Procatalepsis, or the presumptuous, otherwise the figure of Presupposall.] It serueth many times to great purpose to preuent our aduersaries arguments, and take vpon vs to know before what our iudge or aduersary or hearer thinketh, and that we will seeme to vtter it before it be spoken or alleaged by them, in respect of which boldnesse to enter so deepely into another mans conceit or conscience, and to be so priuie of another mans mynde, gaue cause that this figure was called the [presumptuous] I will also call him the figure of presupposall or the preuenter, for by reason we suppose before what may be said, or perchaunce would be said by our aduersary or any other, we do preuent them of their aduantage, and do catch the ball (as they are wont to say) before it come to the ground.

[Sidenote: Paralepsis, or the Passager.] It is also very many times vsed for a good pollicie in pleading or perswasion to make wise as if we set but light of the matter, and that therefore we do passe it ouer lightly when in deede we do then intend most effectually and despightfully if it be inuectiue to remember it: it is also when we will not seeme to know a thing, and yet we know it well inough, and may be likened to the maner of women, who as the common saying is, will say nay and take it. I hold my peace and will not say for shame, The much vntruth of that vnciuill dame: For if I should her coullours kindly blaze, It would so make the chast eares amaze, &c.

[Sidenote: Commoratio, or the figure of abode.] It is said by maner of a prouerbiall speach that he who findes himselfe well should not wagge, euen so the perswader finding a substantiall point in his matter to serue his purpose, should dwell upon that point longer then vpon any other lesse assured, and vse all endeuour to maintaine that one, & as it were to make his chief aboad thereupon, for which cause I name him the figure of aboad, according to the Latine name: Some take it not but for a course of argument & therefore hardly may one giue any examples thereof.

[Sidenote: Metastasis, or the Flitting figure, or the Remoue.] Now as arte and good pollicy in perswasion bids vs to abide & not to stirre from the point of our most aduantage, but the same to enforce and tarry vpon with all possible argument, so doth discretion will vs sometimes to flit from one matter to another, as a thing meete to be forsaken, and another entred vpon, I call him therefore the flitting figure, or figure of remoue, like as the other before was called the figure of aboade.

[Sidenote: _Parecuasis, or the Stragler.] Euen so againe, as it is wisdome for a perswader to tarrie and make his aboad as long as he may conueniently without tediousness to the hearer, vpon his chiefe proofes or points of the cause tending to his aduantage, and likewise to depart againe when time serues, and goe to a new matter seruing the purpose aswell. So is it requisite many times for him to talke farre from the principall matter, and as it were to range aside, to th'intent by such extraordinary meane to induce or inferre other matter, aswell or better seruing the principal purpose, and neuertheles in season to returne home where he first strayed out. This maner of speech is termed the figure of digression by the Latines, following the Greeke originall, we also call him the _straggler_ by allusion to the souldier that marches out of his array, or by those that keepe no order in their marche, as the battailes well ranged do: of this figure there need be geuen no example.

[Sidenote: Expeditio, or the speedie dispatcher.] Occasion offers many times that our maker as an oratour, or perswader, or pleader should go roundly to worke, and by a quick and swift argument dispatch his perswasion, & as they are woont to say not stand all day trifling to no purpose, but to rid it out of the way quickly. This is done by a manner of speech, both figuratiue and argumentatiue, when we do briefly set down all our best reasons seruing the purpose and reiect all of them sauing one, which we accept to satisfie the cause: as he that in a litigious case for land would prooue it not the aduersaries, but his clients. No man can say its his by heritage, Nor by Legacie, or Testatours deuice: Nor that it came by purchase or engage, Nor from his Prince for any good seruice. Then needs must it be his by very wrong, Which he hath offred this poore plaintife so long.

Though we might call this figure very well and properly the [Paragon] yet dare I not so to doe for feare of the Courtiers enuy, who will haue no man vse that terme but after a courtly manner, that is, in praysing of horses, haukes, hounds, pearles, diamonds, rubies, emerodes, and other precious stones: specially of faire women whose excellencie is discouered by paragonizing or setting one to another, which moued the zealous Poet, speaking of the mayden Queene, to call her the paragon of Queenes. This considered, I will let our figure enioy his best beknowen name, and call him stil in all ordinarie cases the figure of comparison: as when a man wil seeme to make things appeare good or bad, or better or worse, or more or lesse excellent, either vpon spite or for pleasure, or any other good affection, then he sets the lesse by the greater, or the greater to the lesse, the equall to his equall, and by such confronting of them together, driues out the true ods that is betwixt them, and makes it better appeare, as when we sang of our Soueraigne Lady thus, in the twentieth Partheniade. As falcon fares to bussards flight, As egles eyes to owlates sight, As fierce saker to coward kite, As brightest noone to darkest night: As summer sunne exceedeth farre, The moone and euery other starre: So farre my Princesse praise doeth passe, The famoust Queene that euer was.

And in the eighteene Partheniade thus. Set rich rubie to red esmayle, The rauens plume to peacocks tayle, Lay me the larkes to lizards eyes, The duskie cloude to azure skie, Set shallow brookes to surging seas, An orient pearle to a white pease.

&c. Concluding. There shall no lesse an ods be seene In mine from euery other Queene.

[Sidenote: Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.] We are sometimes occasioned in our tale to report some speech from another mans mouth, as what a king said to his priuy counsel or subiect, a captaine to his souldier, a souldiar to his captaine, a man to a woman, and contrariwise: in which report we must always geue to euery person his fit and naturall, & that which best becommeth him. For that speech becommeth a king which doth not a carter, and a young man that doeth not an old: and so, in euery sort and degree. Virgil speaking in the person of Eneas, Turnus and many other great Princes, and sometimes of meaner men, ye shall see what decencie euery of their speeches holdeth with the qualitie, degree and yeares of the speaker. To which examples I will for this time referre you.

So if by way of fiction we will seem to speake in another mans person, as if king Henry the eight were aliue, and should say of the towne of Bulleyn, what we by warretime hazard of our person hardly obteined, our young sonne without any peril at all, for little mony deliuered vp againe. Or if we should faine king Edward the thirde, vnderstanding how his successour Queene Marie had lost the towne of Calays by negligence, should say: That which the sword wanne, the distaffe hath lost. This manner of speech is by the figure Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.

[Sidenote: Gnome, or the Director.] In waightie causes and for great purposes, wise perswaders vse graue & weighty speaches, specially in matter of aduise or counsel, for which purpose there is a maner of speach to alleage textes or authorities of wittie sentence, such as smatch morall doctrine and teach wisedome and good behauiour, by the Greeke originall we call him the directour, by the Latin he is called sententia: we may call him the sage sayer, thus.

[Sidenote: _Sententia_, or the Sage sayer.] _Nature bids vs as a louing mother, To loue our selues first and next to loue another.

The Prince that couets all to know and see, Had neede full milde and patient to bee.

Nothing stickes faster by us as appeares, Then that which we learne in our tender yeares._

And that which our foueraigne Lady wrate in defiance of fortune. Neuer thinke you fortune can beare the sway, Where vertues force, can cause her to obay.

Heede must be taken that such rules or sentences be choisly made and not often vsed least excesse breed lothsomnesse.

[Sidenote: Sinathrismus, or the Heaping figure.] Arte and good pollicie moues vs many times to be earnest in our speach, and then we lay on such load and so go to it by heapes as if we would winne the game by multitude of words & speaches, not all of one but of diuers matter and sence, for which cause the Latines called it Congeries and we the heaping figure, as he that said To muse in minde how faire, how wise, how good, How braue, how free, how curteous and how true, My Lady is doth but inflame my blood.

Or thus. I deeme, I dreame, I do, I tast, I touch, Nothing at all but smells of perfit blisse.

And thus by maister Edward Diar, vehement swift & passionatly. But if my faith my hope, my loue my true intent, My libertie, my seruice vowed, my time and all be spent, In vaine, &c.

But if such earnest and hastie heaping vp of speaches be made by way of recapitulation, which commonly is in the end of euery long tale and Oration, because the speaker seemes to make a collection of all the former materiall points, to binde them as it were in a bundle and lay them forth to enforce the cause and renew the hearers memory, then ye may geue him more properly the name of the [collectour] or recapitulatour, and serueth to very great purpose as in an hympne written by vs to the Queenes Maiestie entitled [Mourua] wherein speaking of the mutabilitie of fortune in the case of all Princes generally, wee seemed to exempt her Maiestie of all such casualtie, by reason she was by her destinie and many diuine partes in her, ordained to a most long and constant prosperitie in this world, concluding with this recapitualtion. But thou art free, but were thou not in deede, But were thou not, come of immortall seede: Neuer yborne, and thy minde made to blisse, Heauens mettall that euerlasting is: Were not thy wit, and that thy vertues shall, Be deemd diuine thy fauour face and all: And that thy loze, ne name may neuer dye, Nor thy state turne, stayd by destinie: Dread were least once thy noble hart may feele, Some rufull turne, of her unsteady wheele.

[Sidenote: Apostrophe, or the turne tale.] Many times when we haue runne a long race in our tale spoken to the hearers, we do sodainly flye out & either speake or exclaime at some other person or thing, and therefore the Greekes call such figure (as we do) the turnway or turnetale, & breedeth by such exchaunge a certaine recreation to the hearers minds, as this vsed by a louer to his vnkind mistresse. And as for you (faire one) say now by proofe ye finde, That rigour and ingratitude soone kill a gentle minde.

And as we in our triumphals, speaking long to the Queenes Maiestie, vpon the sodaine we burst out in an exclamtion to _Phebus_, seeming to draw in a new matter, thus. _But O Phebus, All glistering in thy gorgious gowne, Wouldst thou wit safe to slide a downe: And dwell with us,

But for a day, I could tell thee close in thine eare, A tale that thou hadst leuer heare —I dare well say:

Then ere thou wert, To kisse that unkind runneaway, Who was transformed to boughs of bay: For her curst hert. &c ._

And so returned againe to the first matter.

[Sidenote: Hypotiposis, or the counterfait representation.] The matter and occasion leadeth vs many times to describe and set foorth many things, in such sort as it should appeare they were truly before our eyes though they were not present, which to do it requireth cunning: for nothing can be kindly counterfait or represented in his absence, but by great discretion in the doer. And if the things we couet to describe be not naturall or not veritable, than yet the same axeth more cunning to do it, because to faine a thing that neuer was nor is like to be, proceedeth of a greater wit and sharper inuention than to describe things that be true.

[Sidenote: Prosopographia.] And these be things that a poet or maker is woont to describe sometimes as true or naturall, and sometimes to faine as artificiall and not true. viz. The visage, speach and countenance of any person absent or dead: and this kinde of representation is called the Counterfait countenance: as Homer doth in his Iliades, diuerse personages: namely Achilles and Thersites, according to the truth and not by fiction. And as our poet Chaucer doth in his Canterbury tales set for the Sumner, Pardoner, Manciple, and the rest of the pilgrims, most naturally and pleasantly.

[Sidenote: Prosopopeia, or the Counterfait in personation.] But if ye wil faine any person with such features, qualities & conditions, or if ye wil attribute any humane quality, as reason or speech to dombe creatures or other insensible things, & do study (as one may say) to giue them a humane person, it is not Prosopographia, but Prosopopeia, because it is by way of fiction, & no prettier examples can be giuen to you thereof, than in the Romant of the rose translated out of French by Chaucer, describing the persons of auarice, enuie, old age, and many others, whereby much moralities is taught.

[Sidenote: Cronographia, or the Counterfait time.] So if we describe the time or season of the yeare, as winter, summer, haruest, day, midnight, noone, euening, or such like: we call such description the counterfait time. Cronographia examples are euery where to be found.

[Sidenote: Topographia, or the Counterfait place.] And if this description be of any true place, citie, castell, hill, valley or sea, & such like: we call it the counterfait place Topographia, or if ye fayne places vntrue, as heauen, hell, paradise, the house of fame, the pallace of the sunne, the denne of sheepe, and such like which ye shall see in Poetes: so did Chaucer very well describe the country of Saluces in Italie, which ye may see, in his report of the Lady Grysyll.

[Sidenote: Pragmatographia, or the Counterfait action.] But if such description be made to represent the handling of any busines with the circumstances belonging therevnto as the manner of a battell, a feast, a marriage, a buriall or any other matter that heth in feat and actiutie: we call it then the counterfeit action [Pragmatographia.]

In this figure the Lord Nicholas Vaux a noble gentleman, and much delighted in vulgar making, & a man otherwise of no great learning but hauing herein a maruelous facillitie, made a dittie representing the battayle and assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application of his fiction in euery part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it can not be amended. When Cupid scaled first the fort, Wherein my hart lay wounded sore, The battrie was of such a sort, That I must yeeld or die therefore. There saw I loue vpon the wall, How he his banner did display, Alarme alarme he gan to call, And had his souldiers keepe aray. The armes the which that Cupid bare, We pearced harts with teares besprent: In siluer and sable to declare The stedfast loue he alwaies meant. There might you see his band all drest In colours like to white and blacke, With pouder and with pellets prest, To bring them forth to spoile and sacke, Good will the master of the shot, Stood in the Rampire braue and proude, For expence of pouder he spared not, Assault assault to crie aloude. There might you heare the Canons rore, Eche peece discharging a louers looke, &c.

[Sidenote: Omiosis, or Resemblance.] As well to a good maker and Poet as to an excellent perswader in prose, the figure of Similitude is very necessary by which we not onely bewtifie our tale, but also very much inforce & inlarge it. I say inforce because no one thing more preuaileth with all ordinary iudgements than perswasion by similitude. Now because there are sundry sorts of them, which also do worke after diuerse fashions in the hearers of conceits, I will set them foorth by a triple diuision, exempting the generall Similitude as their common Auncestour, and I will cal him by the name of Resemblance without any addition, from which I deriue three other sorts: and giue euery one his particular name, as Resemblance by Pourtrait or Imagery, which the Greeks call Icon, Resemblance morall or misticall, which they call Parabola, & Resemblance by example, which they call Paradigma, and first we will speake of the general resemblance, or bare similitude, which may be thus spoken. But as the watrie showres delay the raging wind, So doeth good hope cleane put away dispaire out of my mind.

And in this other likening the forlorne louer to a striken deer. Then as the striken deere, withdrawes himselfe alone, So do I seeke some secret place, where I may make my mone.

And in this of ours where we liken glory to a shadow. As the shadow (his nature beying such,) Followeth the body, whether it will or no, So doeth glory, refuse it nere so much, Wait on vertue, be it in weale or wo. And euen as the shadow in his kind, What time it beares the carkas company, Goth oft before, and often comes behind: So doth renowne, that raiseth us so hye, Come to vs quicke, sometime not till we dye. But the glory, that growth not ouer fast, Is euer great, and likeliest long to last.

Againe in a ditty to a mistresse of ours, where we likened the cure of Loue to Achilles launce. The launce so bright, that made Telephus wound, The same rusty, salued the sore againe, So may my meede (Madame) of you redownd, Whose rigour was first suthour of my paine.

The Tuskan poet vseth this Resemblance, inuring as well by Dissimilitude as Similitude, likening himselfe (by Implication) to the flie, and neither to the eagle nor to the owle: very well Englished by Sir Thomas Wiat after his fashion and by myselfe thus: There be some fowles of sight so prowd and starke, As can behold the sunne, and neuer shrinke, Some so feeble, as they are faine to winke, Or neuer come abroad till it be darke: Others there be so simple, as they thinke, Because it shines, so sport them in the fire, And feele vnware, the wrong of the desire, Fluttring amidst the flame that doth them burne, Of this last ranke (alas) am I aright, For in my ladies lookes to stand or turne I haue no power, ne find place to retire, Where any darke may shade me from her sight But to her beames so bright whilst I aspire, I perish by the bane of my delight.

Againe in these likening a wise man to the true louer. As true loue is constant with his enioy, And asketh no witnesse nor no record, And as faint loue is euermore most coy, To boast and brag his troth at euery word: Euen so the wise without enother meede: Contents him with the guilt of his good deede.

And in this resembling the learning of an euill man to the seedes sowen in barren ground. As the good seedes sowen in fruitfull soyle, Bring foorth foyson when barren doeth them spoile: So doeth it fare when much good learning hits, Vpon shrewde willes and ill disposed wits.

And in these likening the wise man to an idiot. A sage man said, many of those that come To Athens schoole for wisdome, ere they went They first seem'd wise, then louers of wisdome, Then Orators, then idiots, which is meant That in wisedome all such as profite most, Are least surlie, and little apt to boast.

Againe, for a louer, whose credit vpon some report had bene shaken, he prayeth better opinion by similitude. After ill crop the soyle must eft be sowen, And fro shipwracke we sayle to seas againe, Then God forbid whose fault hath once bene knowen, Should for euer a spotted wight remaine.

And in this working by resemblance in a kinde of dissimilitude betweene a father and a master. _It fares not by fathers as by masters it doeth fare, For a foolish father may get a wise sonne, But of a foolish master it haps very rare Is bread a wise seruant where euer he wonne.

And in these, likening the wise man to the Giant, the foole to the Dwarfe. Set the Giant deepe in a dale, the dwarfe vpon an hill, Yet will the one be but a dwarfe, th'other a giant still. So will the wise be great and high, euen in the lowest place: The foole when he is most aloft, will seeme but low and base.

[Sidenote: Icon, or Resemblance by imagerie.] But when we liken an humane person to another in countenaunce, stature, speach or other qualitie, it is not called bare resemblance, but resemblaunce by imagerie or pourtrait, alluding to the painters terme, who yeldeth to th'eye a visible representation of the thing he describes and painteth in his table. So we commending her Maiestie for the wisedome bewtie and magnanimitie likened her to the Serpent, the Lion and the Angell, because by common vsurpation, nothing is wiser then the Serpent, more courageous then the Lion, more bewtifull then the Angell. These are our verses in the end of the seuenth Partheniade. Nature that seldome workes amisse, In womans brest by passing art: Hath lodged safe the Lyons hart, And stately fixt with all good grace, To Serpents head an Angels face.

And this maner of resemblance is not onely performed by likening liuely creatures one to another, but also of any other naturall thing bearing a proportion of similitude, as to liken yellow to gold, white to siluer, red to the rose, soft to silke, hard to the stone and such like. Sir Philip Sidney in the description of his mistresse excellently well handled this figure of resemblaunce by imagerie, as ye may see in his booke of Archadia: and ye may see the like, of our doings, in a Partheniade written of our soueraigne Lady, wherein we resemble euery part of her body to some naturall thing of excellent perfection in his kind, as of her forehead, browes, and haire, thus: Of siluer was her forehead hye, Her browes two bowes of hebenie, Her tresses trust were to behold Frizled and fine as fringe of gold.

And of her lips. Two lips wrought out of rubie rocke, Like leaues to shut and to vnlock. As portall dore in Princes chamber: A golden tongue in mouth of amber.

And of her eyes. Her eyes God wot what stuffe they are, I durst be sworne each is a starre: As cleere and bright as woont to guide The Pylot in his winter tide.

And of her breasts. Her bosome sleake as Paris plaster, Helde up two balles of alabaster, Eche byas was a little cherrie: Or els I thinke a strawberie.

And all the rest that followeth, which may suffice to exemplifie your figure Icon, or resemblance by imagerie and portrait.

[Sidenote: Parabola or Resemblance misticall.] But whensoeuer by your similitude ye will seeme to teach any moralitie or good lesson by speeches misticall and darke, or farre sette, vnder a sence metaphoricall applying one naturall thing to another, or one case to another, inferring by them a like consequence in other cases the Greekes call it Parabola, which terme is also by custome accepted of vs: neuerthelesse we may call him in English the resemblance misticall: as when we liken a young childe to a greene twigge which ye may easilie bende euery way ye list: or an old man who laboureth with continuall infirmities, to a drie and dricklie oke. Such parables were all the preachings of Christ in the Gospell, as those of the wise and foolish virgins, of the euil steward, of the labourers in the vineyard, and a number more. And they may be fayned aswell as true: as those fables of Aesope, and other apologies inuented for doctrine sake by wise and graue men.

[Sidenote: Paradigma, or a resemblance by example.] Finally, if in matter of counsell or perswasion we will seeme to liken one case to another, such as passe ordinarily in mans affaires, and doe compare the past with the present, gathering probabilitie of like successe to come in the things wee haue presently in hand: or if ye will draw the iudgements precedent and authorized by antiquitie as veritable, and peraduenture fayned and imagined for some purpose, into similitude or dissimilitude with our present actions and affaires, it is called resemblance by example: as if one should say thus, Alexander the great in his expidition to Asia did thus, so did Hanniball comming into Spaine, so did Caesar in Egypt, therfore all great Captains & Generals ought to doe it.

And thus againe, It hath bene alwayes vsuall among great and magnanimous princes in all ages, not only to repulse any iniury & inuasion from their owne realmes and dominions, but also with a charitable & Princely compassion to defend their good neighbors Princes and Potentats, from all oppression of tyrants & vsurpers. So did the Romaines by their armes restore many Kings of Asia and Affricke expulsed out of their kingdoms. So did K. Edward I restablish Baliol rightfull owner of the crowne of Scotland against Robert le brus no lawfull King. So did king Edward the third aide Dampeeter king of Spaine against Henry bastard and vsurper. So haue many English Princes holpen with their forces the poore Dukes of Britaine their ancient friends and allies, against the outrages of the French kings: and why may not the Queene our soueraine Lady with like honor and godly zele yeld protection to the people of the Low countries, her neerest neighbours to rescue them a free people from the Spanish seruitude.

And as this resemblance is of one mans action to another, so may it be made by examples of bruite beastes, aptly corresponding in qualitie or euent, as one that wrote certaine prety verses of the Emperor _Maximinus_, to warne him that he should not glory too much in his owne strength, for so he did in very deede, and would not take any common souldier to taske at wrastling, or weapon, or in any other actiuitie and feates of armes, which was by the wiser sort mislliked, these were the verses. The Elephant is strong, yet death doeth it subdue, The bull is strong, yet cannot death eschue. The Lion strong, and slaine for all his strength: The Tygar strong, yet kilde is at the length. Dread thou many, that dreadest not any one, Many can kill, that cannot kill alone._

And so it fell out, for Maximinus was slaine in a mutinie of his souldiers, taking no warning by these examples written for his admonition.



CHAP. XX.

The last and principall figure of our poeticall Ornament.

[Sidenote: Exargasia or The Gorgious.] For the glorious lustre it setteth vpon our speech and language, the Greeks call it [Exargasia] the Latine [Expolisio] a terme transferred from these polishers of marble or porphirite, who after it is rough hewen & reduced to that fashion they will do set vpon it a goodly glasse, so smoth and cleere as ye may see your face in it, or otherwise as it fareth by the bare and naked body, which being attired in rich and gorgious apparell, seemeth to the common vsage of th'eye much more comely & bewtifull then the naturall. So doth this figure (which therefore I call the Gorgious) polish our speech & as it were attire it with copious & pleasant amplifications and much varietie of sentences all running vpon one point & to one intent so as I doubt whether I may terme it a figure, or rather a masse of many figurative speaches, applied to the bewtifying of our tale or argument. In a worke of ours intituled Philocalia we have strained to shew the vse & application of this figure and all others mentioned in this booke, to which we referre you. I finde none example in English meetre, so well maintaining this figure as that dittie of her Maiesties owne making passing sweete and harmonicall, which figure beyng as his very originall name purporteth the most bewtifull and gorgious of all others, it asketh in reason to be reserued for a last complement, and desciphred by the arte of a Ladies penne, her selfe being the most bewtifull, or rather bewtie of Queenes. And this was the occasion: our soueraigne Lady perceiuing how by the Sc.Q. residence within this Realme at so great libertie and ease (as were skarce meete for so great and daungerous a prysoner) bred secret factions among her people, and made many of the nobilitie incline to fauour her partie: some of them desirous of innouation in the state: others aspiring to greater fortunes by her libertie and life. The Queene our soueraigne Lady to declare that she was nothing ignorant of those secret practizes, though she had long with great wisdome and pacience dissembled it, writeth this ditty most sweet and sententious, not hiding from all such aspiring minds the daunger of their ambition and disloyaltie: which afterward fell out most truly by th'exemplary chastisement of sundry persons, who in fauour of the said Sc.Q. declining from her Maiestie, sought to interrupt the quiet of the Realme by many euill and vndutifull practizes. The ditty is as followeth. The doubt of future foes, exiles my present ioy, And wit me warnes to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy. For falshood now doth flow, and subiect faith doth ebbe, Which would not be, if reason rul'd or widsome wev'd the webbe. But clowdes of tois vntried, do cloake aspiring mindes, Which turne to raigne of late repent, by course of changed windes. The toppe of hope supposed, the roote of ruth wil be, And frutelesse all their grassed guiles, as shortly ye shall see. The dazeld eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds, Shalbe vnseeld by worthy wights, whose foresight falshood finds. The daughter of debate, that eke discord doth sowe Shal reap no gaine where formor rule hath taught stil peace to growe. No forreine bannisht wight shall ancre in this port, Our realme it brookes no strangers force, let them elsewhere resort. Our rusty sworde with rest shall first his edge employ, To polle their toppes that seeke, such change and gape for ioy.

In a worke of ours entituled [Philo Calia] where we entreat of the loues betwene prince Philo and Lady Calia in their mutual letters messages, and speeches: we have strained our muse to shew the vse and application of this figure, and of all others.



CHAP. XXI.

Of the vices or deformities in speach and writing principally noted by auncient Poets.

It hath bene said before how by ignorance of the maker a good figure may become a vice, and by his good discretion, a vicious speach go for a vertue in the Poeticall science. This saying is to be explaned and qualified, for some maner of speaches are always intollerable and such as cannot be vsed with any decencie, but are euer vndecent namely barbarousnesse, incongruitie, ill disposition, fond affectation, rusticitie, and all extreme darknesse, such as it is not possible for a man to vnderstand the matter without an interpretour, all which partes are generally to be banished out of euery language, vnlesse it may appeare that the maker or Poet do it for the nonce, as it was reported by the Philosopher Heraclitus that he wrote in obscure and darke termes of purpose not to be vnderstood, whence he merited the nickname Scotinus, otherwise I see not but the rest of the common faultes may be borne with sometimes, or passe without any greate reproofe, not being vsed ouermuch or out of season as I said before: so as euery surplusage or preposterous placing or vndue iteration or darke word, or doubtfull speach are not so narrowly to be looked vpon in a large poeme, nor specially in the pretie Poesies and deuises of Ladies, and Gentlewomen makers, whom we would not haue too precise Poets least with their shrewd wits, when they were maried they might become a little too phantasticall wiues, neuerthelesse because we seem to promise an arte, which doth not iustly admit any wilful errour in the teacher, and to th'end we may not be carped at by these methodicall men, that we haue omitted any necessary point in this businesse to be regarded, I will speake somewhat touching these viciosities of language particularly and briefly, leauing no little to the Grammarians for maintenaunce of the scholasticall warre, and altercations: we for our part condescending in this deuise of ours, to the appetite of Princely personages & other so tender & quesie complexions in Court, as are annoyed with nothing more then long lessons and ouermuch good order.



CHAP. XXII.

Some vices in speaches and writing are alwayes intollerable, some others now and then borne withall by licence of approued authors and custome.

[Sidenote: Barbarismus, or Forrein speech.] The foulest vice in language is to speake barbarously: this terme grew by the great pride of the Greekes and Latines, when they were dominatours of the world reckoning no language so sweete and ciuill as their owne, and that all nations beside them selues were rude and vnciuill, which they called barbarous: So as when any straunge word not of the naturall Greeke or Latin was spoken, in the old time they called it barbarisme, or when any of their owne naturall wordes were sounded and pronounced with straunge and ill shapen accents, or written by wrong ortographie, as he that would say with vs in England, a dousand for a thousand, asterday, for yesterday, as commonly the Dutch and French people do, they said it was barbarously spoken. The Italian at this day by like arrogance calleth the Frenchman, Spaniard, Dutch, English, and all other breed behither their mountaines Appennines, Tramontani, as who would say Barbarous. This terme being then so vsed by the auncient Greekes, there haue bene since, notwithstanding who haue digged for the Etimologie somethat deeper, and many of them haue said that is was spoken by the rude and barking language of the Affricans now called Barbarians, who had great trafficke with the Greekes and Romanes, but that can not be so, for that part or Affricke hath but of late receiued the name of Burbarie and some others rather thinke that of this word Barbarous, that countrey came to be called Barbaria and but few yeares in respect agone. Others among whom is Ihan Leon a Moore of Granada, will seeme to deriue Barbaria, from this word Bar, twice iterated thus Barbar, as much to say as flye, flye, which chaunced in a persecution of the Arabians by some seditious Mahometanes in the time of their Pontif, Habdul mumi, when they were had in the chase, & driuen out of Arabia Westward into the countreys of Mauritania, & during the pursuite cried one vpon another flye away, flye away, or passe passe, by which occasion they say, when the Arabians which were had in chase came to stay and settle themselues in that part of Affrica, they called it Barbar, as much to say, the region of their flight or pursuite. Thus much for the terme, though not greatly pertinent to the matter, yet not vnpleasant to know for them that delight in such niceties.

[Sidenote: Solecismus, or Incongruitie.] Your next intollerable vice is solecismus or incongruitie, as when we speake halfe English, that is by misusing the Grammaticall rules to be obserued in cases, genders, tenses, and such like, euery poore scholler knowes the fault, & cals it the breaking of Priscians head, for he was among the Latines a principall Grammarian.

[Sidenote: Cacozelia, or Fonde affectation.] Ye haue another intollerable ill maner of speach, which by the Greekes originall we may call fonde affectation and is when we affect new words and phrases other then the good speakers and writers in any language, or then custome hath allowed, & is the common fault of young schollers not halfe well studied before they come from the Vniuersitie or schooles, and when they come to their friends, or happen to get some benefice or other promotion in their countreys, will seeme to coigne fine wordes out of the Latin, and to vse new fangled speaches, thereby to shew thenselues among the ignorant the better learned.

[Sidenote: Soraismus, or The mingle mangle.] Another of your intollerable vices is that which the Greekes call Soraismus, & we may call the [mingle mangle] as when we make our speach or writinges of sundry languages vsing some Italian word, or French, or Spanish, or Dutch, or Scottish, not for the nonce or for any purpose (which were in part excusable) but ignorantly and affectedly as one that said vsing this French word Roy, to make ryme with another verse, thus. O mightie Lord of loue, dame Venus onely ioy, Whose Princely power exceedes ech other heauenly roy.

The verse is good but the terme peeuishly affected.

Another of reasonable good facilitie in translation finding certaine of the hymnes of Pyndarus and of Anacreons odes, and other Lirickes among the Greekes very well translated by Rounsard the French Poet, & applied to the honour of a great Prince in France, comes our minion and translates the same out of French into English, and applieth them to the honour of a great noble man in England (wherein I commend his reuerent minde and duetie) but doth so impudently robbe the French Poet both of his prayse and also of his French termes, that I cannot so much pitie him as be angry with him for his inurious dealing, our sayd maker not being ashamed to vfe these French wordes freddon, egar, superbous, filanding, celest, calabrois, thebanois and a number of others, for English wordes, which haue no maner of conformitie with our language either by custome or deriuation which may make them tollerable. And in the end (which is worst of all) makes his vaunt that neuer English finger but his hath toucht Pindars string which was neuerthelesse word by word as Rounsard had said before by like braggery. These be his verses. And of an ingenious inuention infanted with pleasant trauaile.

Whereas the French word is enfante as much to say borne as a child, in another verse he saith. I will freddon in thine honour.

For I will shake or quiuer my fingers, for so in French is freddon, and in another verse. But if I will thus like pindar, In many discourses egar.

This word egar is as much to say as to wander or stray out of the way, which in our English is not receiued, nor these wordes calabrois, thebanois, but rather calabrian, theba [filanding sisters] for the spinning sisters: this man deserues to be endited of pety larceny for pilfring other mens deuices from them & conuerting them to his owne vfe for in deede as I would with euery inuentour which is the very Poet to receaue the prayses of his inuention, so would I not haue a translatour be ashamed to be acknowen of this translation.

[Sidenote: Cacosintheton, or the Misplacer.] Another of your intollerable vices is ill disposiiton or placing of your words in a clause or sentence: as when you will place your adiectiue after your substantiue, thus: Mayde faire, widow riche, priest holy, and such like, which though the Latines did admit, yet our English did not, as one that said ridiculously. In my yeares lustie, many a deed doughtie did I.

All these remembred faults be intollerable and euer vndecent.

[Sidenote: Cacemphaton, or figure of foule speech.] Now haue ye other vicious manners of speech, but sometimes and in some cases tollerable, and chiefly to the intent to mooue laughter, and to make sport, or to giue it some prety strange grace, and is when we vse such wordes as may be drawen to a foule and vnshamefast sence, as one that would say to a young woman, I pray you let me iape with you, which indeed is no more but let me sport with you. Yea and though it were not altogether so directly spoken the very sounding of the word were not commendable, as he that in the presence of Ladies would vse this common Prouerbe, Iape with me but hurt me not, Bourde with me but shame me not.

For it may be taken in another peruerser sence by that sorte of persons that heare it, in whose eares no such matter ought almost to be called in memory, this vice is called by the Greekes Cacemphaton, we call it the vnshamefast or figure of foule speech, which our courtly maker shall in any case shunne, least of a Poet he become a Buffon or rayling companion, the Latines called him Scurra. There is also another sort of ilfauoured speech subiect to this vice, but resting more in the manner of the ilshapen sound and accent, than for the matter it selfe, which may easily be auoyded in choosing your wordes those that bee of the pleasantest orthography, and not to rune too many like sounding words together.

[Sidenote: Tautologia, or the figure of selfe saying.] Ye haue another manner of composing your metre nothing commendable, specially if it be too much vsed, and is when our maker takes too much delight to fill his verse with wordes beginning all with a letter, as an English rimer that said: The deadly droppes of darke disdaine, Do daily drench my due desartes.

And as the Monke we spake of before, wrote a whole Poeme to the honor of Carolus Caluus euery word in his verse beginning with C, thus: Carmina clarifone Caluis cantate camena.

Many of our English makers vse it too much, yet we confesse it doth not ill but pretily becomes the meetre, if ye passe not two or three words in one verse, and vse it not very much, as he that said by way of Epithete. The smoakie sighes: the trickling teares.

And such like, for such composition makes the meetre runne away smoother, and passeth from the lippes with more facilitie by iteration of a letter then by alteration, which alteration of a letter requires an exchange of ministery and office in the lippes, teeth or palate, and so doth not the iteration.

[Sidenote: Histeron, proteron, or the Preposterous.] Your misplacing and preposterous placing is not all one in behauiour of language, for the misplacing is alwaies intollerable, but the preposterous is a pardonable fault, and many times giues a pretie grace vnto the speech. We call it by a common saying to set the carte before the horse, and it may be done eyther by a single word or by a clause of speech: by a single word thus: And if I not performe, God let me neuer thriue.

For performe not: and this vice is sometime tollerable inough, but if the word carry any notable sence, it is a vice not tollerable, as he that said praising a woman for her red lippes, thus: A corrall lippe of hew.

Which is no good speech, because either he should haue sayd no more but a corrall lip, which had bene inough to declare the rednesse or els he should haue said a lip of corrall hew, and not a corrall lip of hew. Now if this disorder be in a whole clause which carieth more sentence then a word, it is then worst of all.

[Sidenote: Acyron, or the Vncouthe.] Ye haue another vicious speech which the Greeks call Acyron, we call it the vncouthe, and is when we vse an obscure and darke word, and vtterly repugnant to that we would expresse, if it be not by vertue of the figures metaphore, allegorie, abusion, or such other laudable figure before remembred, as he that said by way of Epithete. A dongeon deep, a dampe as darke as hell.

Where it is euident that a dampe being but a breath or vapour, and not to be discerned by the eye, ought not to haue this epithete (darke,) no more then another that praysing his mistresse for her bewtifull haire, said very improperly and with an vncouth terme. Her haire surmounts Apollos pride, In it such bewty raignes.

Whereas this word raigne is ill applied to the bewtie of a womans haire, and might better haue bene spoken of her whole person, in which bewtie, fauour, and good grace, may perhaps in some sort be said to raigne as our selues wrate, in a Partheniade praising her Maiesties countenance, thus: A cheare where loue and Maiestie do raigne, Both milde and sterne, &c.

Because this word Maiestie is a word expressing a certaine Soueraigne dignitie, as well as a quallitie of countenance, and therefore may properly be said to raigne, & requires no meaner a word to set him foorth by. So it is not of the bewtie that remaines in a womans haire, or in her hand or any other member: therfore when ye see all these unproper or harde Epithets vsed, ye may put them in the number of [uncouths] as one that said, the flouds of graces: I haue heard of the flouds of teares, and the flouds of eloquence, or of any thing that may resemble the nature of a water-course, and in that respect we say also, the streames of teares, and the streames of utterance, but not the streames of graces, or of beautie. Such manner of vncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth vse to king Edward the fourth, which Tanner hauing a great while mistaken him, and vsed very broad talke with him, at length perceiuing by his traine that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished for it, said thus with a certaine rude repentance. I hope I shall be hanged tomorrow.

For [I fear me] I shall be hanged, whereat the king laughed a good, not only to see the Tanners vaine feare, but also to heare his ill shapen terme, and gaue him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumton parke, I am afraid the Poets of our time that speake more finely and correctedly will come too short of such a reward.

[Sidenote: The vice of Surplusage.] Also the Poet or makers speech becomes vicious and vnpleasant by nothing more than by vsing too much surplusage: and this both not only in a word or two more than ordinary, but in whole clauses, and peraduenture large sentences impertinently spoken, or with more labour and curiositie than is requisite.

[Sidenote: Pleonasmus, or Too ful speech.] The first surplusage the Greekes call Pleonasmus, I call him [too much speech] and is no great fault, as if one should say, I heard it with mine eares, and saw it with mine eyes, as if a man could heare with his heeles, or see with his nose. We our selues vsed this superfluous speech in a verse written of our mistresse, neuertheles, not much to be misliked, for euen a vice sometime being seasonably vsed, hath a pretie grace, For euer may my true loue liue and neuer die And that mine eyes may see her crownde a Queene.

As, if she liued euer, she could euer die, or that one might see her crowned without his eyes.

[Sidenote: Macrologia, or Long language.] Another part of surplusage is called Macrologia, or long language, when we vse large clauses or sentences more than is requisite to the matter: it is also named by the Greeks Perissologia, as he that said, the Ambassadours after they had receiued this answere at the kings hands, they tooke their leaue and returned home into their countrey from whence they came.

So said another of our rimers, meaning to shew the great annoy and difficultie of those warres of Troy, caused for Helenas sake. Nor Menelaus was vnwise, Or troupe of Troians mad, When he with them and they with him, For her such combat had.

The clauses (he with them and they with him) are surpluage, and one of them very impertinent, because it could not otherwise be intended, but that Menelaus, fighting with the Troians, the Troians must of necessitie fight with him.

[Sidenote: Periergia, or Ouerlabor, otherwise called the curious.] Another point of surplusage lieth not so much in superfluitie of your words, as of your trauaile to describe the matter which yee take in hand, and that ye ouer-labour your selfe in your businesse. And therefore the Greekes call it Periergia, we call it ouer-labor, iumpe with the originall: or rather [the curious] for his ouermuch curiositie and studie to shew himselfe fine in a light matter, as one of our late makers, who in most of his things wrote very well, in this (to mine opinion) more curiously than needed, the matter being ripely considered: yet is his verse very good, and his meetre cleanly. His intent was to declare how vpon the tenth day of March he crossed the riuer of Thames, to walke in Saint Georges field, the matter was not as great as ye may suppose. The tenth of March when Aries receiued Dan Phoebus raies into his horned head, And I my selfe by learned lore perceiued That Ver approcht and frosty winter fled I crost the Thames to take the cheerefull aire, In open fields, the weather was so faire.

First, the whole matter is not worth all this solemne circumstance to describe the tenth day of March, but if he had left at the two first verses it had bene inough. But when he comes with two other verses to enlarge his description, it is not only more than needes, but also very ridiculous for he makes wise, as if he had not bene a man learned in some of the mathematickes (by learned lore) that he could not haue told that the x. of March had fallen in the spring of the yeare: which euery carter, and also euery child knoweth without any learning. Then also when he saith [Ver approcht, and frosty winter fled] though it were a surplusage (because one season must needes geue place to the other) yet doeth it well inough passe without blame in the maker. These, and a hundred more of such faultie and impertinent speeches may yee finde amongst vs vulgar Poets when we be carelesse of our doings.

[Sidenote: Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.] It is no small fault in a maker to vse such wordes and termes as do diminish and abbase the matter he would seeme to set forth, by imparing the dignitie, height vigour or maiestie of the cause he takes in hand, as one that would say king Philip shrewdly harmed the towne of S. Quinaines, when in deede he wanne it and put it to the sacke, and that king Henry the eight made spoiles in Turwin, when as in deede he did more than spoile it, for he caused it to be defaced and razed flat to the earth, and made in inhabitable. Therefore the historiographer that should by such wordes report of these two kings gestes in that behalfe, should greatly blemish the honour of their doings and almost speake untruly and iniuriously by way of abbasement, as another of our bad rymers that very indecently said. A misers mynde thou hast, thou hast a Princes pelfe.