CHAP. I.

A Poet is as much to say as a maker. And our English name well conformes with the Greeke word: for of [...] to make, they call a maker Poeta. Such as (by way of re­semblance and reuerently) we may say of God: who without any trauell to his di­uine imagination, made all the world of nought, nor also by any paterne or mould as the Platonicks with their Idees do phantastically suppose. Euē so the very Poet makes and contriues out of his owne braine, both the verse and matter of his poeme, and not by any foreine copie or example, as doth the translator, who therefore may well be sayd a versifier, but not a Poet. The premises considered, it giueth to the name and profession no smal dignitie and preheminence, aboue all other artificers, Scientificke or Mechanicall. And neuerthelesse without any repugnancie at all, a Poet may in some sort be said a follower or imitator, because he can expresse the true and liuely of euery thing is set before him, and which he taketh in hand to de­scribe: and so in that respect is both a maker and a counterfaitor: and Poesie an art not only of making, but also of imitation. And this science in his perfection, can not grow, but by some diuine in­stinct, the Platonicks call it furor: or by excellencie of nature and complexion: or by great subtiltie of the spirits & wit, or by much experience and obseruation of the world, and course of kinde, or [Page 2] peraduenture by all or most part of them. Otherwise how was it possible that Homer being but a poore priuate man, and as some say, in his later age blind, should so exactly set foorth and describe, as if he had bene a most excellent Captaine or Generall, the order and array of battels, the conduct of whole armies, the sieges and as­saults of cities and townes? or as some great Princes maiordome and perfect Surueyour in Court, the order, sumptuousnesse and magnificence of royal bankets, feasts, weddings, and enteruewes? or as a Polititian very prudent, and much inured with the priuat and publique affaires, so grauely examine the lawes and ordinances Ciuill, or so profoundly discourse in matters of estate, and formes of all politique regiment? Finally how could he so naturally paint out the speeches, countenance and maners of Princely persons and priuate, to wit, the wrath of Achilles, the magnanimitie of Aga­memnon, the prudence of Menelaus, the prowesse of Hector, the maiestie of king Priamus, the grauitie of Nestor, the pollicies and eloquence of Vlysses, the calamities of the distressed Queenes, and valiance of all the Captaines and aduenturous knights in those la­mentable warres of Troy? It is therefore of Poets thus to be con­ceiued, that if they be able to deuise and make all these things of them selues, without any subiect of veritie, that they be (by maner of speech) as creating gods. If they do it by instinct diuine or na­turall, then surely much fauoured from aboue. If by their experi­ence, then no doubt very wise men. If by any president or paterne layd before them, then truly the most excellent imitators & coun­terfaitors of all others. But you (Madame) my most Honored and Gracious: if I should seeme to offer you this my deuise for a disci­pline and not a delight, I might well be reputed, of all others the most arrogant and iniurious: your selfe being alreadie, of any that I know in our time, the most excellent Poet. Forsooth by your Princely purse fauours and countenance, making in maner what ye list, the poore man rich, the lewd well learned, the coward cou­ragious, and vile both noble and valiant. Then for imitation no lesse; your person as a most cunning counterfaitor liuely repre­senting Venus in countenance, in life Diana, Pallas for gouerne­ment, and Iuno in all honour and regall magnificence.

CHAP. II.

THen as there was no art in the world till by experience found out: so if Poesie be now an Art, & of al antiquitie hath bene a­mong the Greeks and Latines, & yet were none, vntill by studious persons fashioned and reduced into a method of rules & precepts, then no doubt may there be the like with vs. And if th'art of Poe­sie be but a skill appertaining to vtterance, why may not the same be with vs aswel as with them, our language being no lesse copious pithie and significatiue then theirs, our conceipts the same, and our wits no lesse apt to deuise and imitate then theirs were? If againe Art be but a certaine order of rules prescribed by reason, and ga­thered by experience, why should not Poesie be a vulgar Art with vs aswell as with the Greeks and Latines, our language admitting no fewer rules and nice diuersities then theirs? but peraduenture moe by a peculiar, which our speech hath in many things differing from theirs: and yet in the generall points of that Art, allowed to go in common with them: so as if one point perchance which is their feete whereupon their measures stand, and in deede is all the beautie of their Poesie, and which feete we haue not, nor as yet ne­uer went about to frame (the nature of our language and wordes not permitting it) we haue in stead thereof twentie other curious points in that skill more then they euer had, by reason of our rime and tunable concords or simphonie, which they neuer obserued. Poesie therefore may be an Art in our vulgar, and that verie me­thodicall and commendable.

CHAP. III.

THe profession and vse of Poesie is most ancient from the be­ginning, and not as manie erroniously suppose, after, but be­fore any ciuil society was among men. For it is written, that Poesie was th'originall cause and occasion of their first assemblies, when before the people remained in the woods and mountains, vagarant and dipersed like the wild beasts, lawlesse and naked, or verie ill [Page 4] clad, and of all good and necessarie prouision for harbour or suste­nance vtterly vnfurnished: so as they litle diffred for their maner of life, from the very brute beasts of the field. Whereupon it is fay­ned that Amphion and Orpheus, two Poets of the first ages, one of them, to wit Amphion, builded vp cities, and reared walles with the stones that came in heapes to the sound of his harpe, figuring thereby the mollifying of hard and stonie hearts by his sweete and eloquent perswasion. And Orpheus assembled the wilde beasts to come in heards to harken to his musicke, and by that meanes made them tame, implying thereby, how by his discreete and wholsome lessons vttered in harmonie and with melodious instruments, he brought the rude and sauage people to a more ciuill and orderly life, nothing, as it seemeth, more preuailing or fit to redresse and edifie the cruell and sturdie courage of man then it. And as these two Poets and Linus before them, and Museus also and Hesiodus in Greece and Archadia: so by all likelihood had mo Poets done in other places, and in other ages before them, though there be no re­membrance left of them, by reason of the Recordes by some acci­dent of time perished and failing. Poets therfore are of great anti­quitie. Then forasmuch as they were the first that entended to the obseruation of nature and her works, and specially of the Celestiall courses, by reason of the continuall motion of the heauens, sear­ching after the first mouer, and from thence by degrees comming to know and consider of the substances separate & abstract, which we call the diuine intelligences or good Angels (Demones) they were the first that instituted sacrifices of placation, with inuoca­tions and worship to them, as to Gods: and inuented and stabli­shed all the rest of the obseruances and ceremonies of religion, and so were the first Priests and ministers of the holy misteries. And because for the better execution of that high charge and function, it behoued them to liue chast, and in all holines of life, and in con­tinuall studie and contemplation: they came by instinct diuine, and by deepe meditation, and much abstinence (the same assubti­ling and refining their spirits) to be made apt to receaue visions, both waking and sleeping, which made them vtter prophesies, and foretell things to come. So also were they the first Prophetes or seears, Videntes, for so the Scripture tearmeth them in Latine after [Page 5] the Hebrue word, and all the oracles and answers of the gods were giuen in meeter or verse, and published to the people by their di­rection. And for that they were aged and graue men, and of much wisedome and experience in th'affaires of the world, they were the first lawmakers to the people, and the first polititiens, deuising all expedient meanes for th'establishment of Common wealth, to hold and containe the people in order and duety by force and ver­tue of good and wholesome lawes, made for the preseruation of the publique peace and tranquillitie. The same peraduenture not purposely intended, but greatly furthered by the aw of their gods, and such scruple of conscience, as the terrors of their late inuented religion had led them into.

CHAP. IIII.

VTterance also and language is giuen by nature to man for per­swasion of others, and aide of them selues, I meane the first a­bilite to speake. For speech it selfe is artificiall and made by man, and the more pleasing it is, the more it preuaileth to such purpose as it is intended for: but speech by meeter is a kind of vtterance, more cleanly couched and more delicate to the eare then prose is, because it is more currant and slipper vpon the tongue, and withal tunable and melodious, as a kind of Musicke, and therfore may be tearmed a musicall speech or vtterance, which cannot but please the hearer very well. Another cause is, for that it is briefer & more compendious, and easier to beare away and be retained in memo­rie, then that which is contained in multitude of words and full of tedious ambage and long periods. It is beside a maner of vtterance more eloquent and rethoricall then the ordinarie prose, which we vse in our daily talke: because it is decked and set out with all ma­ner of fresh colours and figures, which maketh that it sooner in­uegleth the iudgement of man, and carieth his opinion this way and that, whither soeuer the heart by impression of the eare shalbe most affectionatly bent and directed. The vtterance in prose is not of so great efficacie, because not only it is dayly vsed, and by that occasion the eare is ouerglutted with it, but is also not so voluble [Page 6] and slipper vpon the tong, being wide and lose, and nothing nu­merous, nor contriued into measures, and sounded with so gallant and harmonical accents, nor in fine alowed that figuratiue conuey­ance, nor so great licence in choise of words and phrases as meeter is. So as the Poets were also from the beginning the best perswaders and their eloquence the first Rethoricke of the world. Euen so it became that the high mysteries of the gods should be reuealed & taught, by a maner of vtterance and language of extraordinarie phrase, and briefe and compendious, and aboue al others sweet and ciuill as the Metricall is. The same also was meetest to register the liues and noble gests of Princes, and of the great Monarkes of the world, and all other the memorable accidents of time: so as the Poet was also the first historiographer. Then forasmuch as they were the first obseruers of all naturall causes & effects in the things generable and corruptible, and from thence mounted vp to search after the celestiall courses and influences, & yet penetrated further to know the diuine essences and substances separate, as is sayd be­fore, they were the first Astronomers and Philosophists and Me­taphisicks. Finally, because they did altogether endeuor thēselues to reduce the life of man to a certaine method of good maners, and made the first differences betweene vertue and vice, and then tem­pered all these knowledges and skilles with the exercise of a dele­ctable Musicke by melodious instruments, which withall serued them to delight their hearers, & to call the people together by ad­miration, to a plausible and vertuous conuersation, therefore were they the first Philosophers Ethick, & the first artificial Musiciens of the world. Such was Linus, Orpheus, Amphiō & Museus the most ancient Poets and Philosophers, of whom there is left any memo­rie by the prophane writers. King Dauid also & Salomon his sonne and many other of the holy Prophets wrate in meeters, and vsed to sing them to the harpe, although to many of vs ignorant of the Hebrue language and phrase, and not obseruing it, the same seeme but a prose. It can not bee therefore that anie scorne or indignitie should iustly be offred to so noble, profitable, ancient and diuine a science as Poesie is.

CHAP. V.

[Page 7]ANd the Greeke and Latine Poesie was by verse numerous and metricall, running vpon pleasant feete, sometimes swift, some­time slow (their words very aptly seruing that purpose) but with­out any rime or tunable concord in th'end of their verses, as we and all other nations now vse. But the Hebrues & Chaldees who were more ancient then the Greekes, did not only vse a metricall Poesie, but also with the same a maner of rime, as hath bene of late obser­ued by learned men. Wherby it appeareth, that our vulgar running Poesie was common to all the nations of the world besides, whom the Latines and Greekes in speciall called barbarous. So as it was notwithstanding the first and most ancient Poesie, and the most vniuersall, which two points do otherwise giue to all humane in­uentions and affaires no small credit. This is proued by certificate of marchants & trauellers, who by late nauigations haue surueyed the whole world, and discouered large countries and strange peo­ples wild and sauage, affirming that the American, the Perusine & the very Canniball, do sing and also say, their highest and holiest matters in certaine riming versicles and not in prose, which proues also that our maner of vulgar Poesie is more ancient then the arti­ficiall of the Greeks and Latines, ours comming by instinct of na­ture, which was before Art or obseruation, and vsed with the sa­uage and vnciuill, who were before all science or ciuilitie, euen as the naked by prioritie of time is before the clothed, and the igno­rant before the learned. The naturall Poesie therefore being aided and amended by Art, and not vtterly altered or obscured, but some signe left of it, (as the Greekes and Latines haue left none) is no lesse to be allowed and commended then theirs.

CHAP. VI.

BVt it came to passe, when fortune fled farre from the Greekes and Latines, & that their townes florished no more in traficke, nor their Vniuersities in learning as they had done continuing those Monarchies: the barbarous conquerers inuading them with innumerable swarmes of strange nations, the Poesie metricall of the Grecians and Latines came to be much corrupted and altered, [Page 8] in so much as there were times that the very Greekes and Latines themselues tooke pleasure in Riming verses, and vsed it as a rare and gallant thing: Yea their Oratours proses nor the Doctors Ser­mons were acceptable to Princes nor yet to the common people vnlesse it went in manner of tunable rime or metricall sentences, as appeares by many of the auncient writers, about that time and since. And the great Princes, and Popes, and Sultans would one salute and greet an other sometime in frendship and sport, some­time in earnest and enmitie by ryming verses, & nothing seemed clerkly done, but must be done in ryme: Whereof we finde diuers examples from the time of th'Emperours Gracian & Valentinian downwardes: For then aboutes began the declination of the Ro­main Empire, by the notable inundations of the Hunnes and Van­dalles in Europe, vnder the conduict of Totila & Atila and other their generalles. This brought the ryming Poesie in grace, and made it preuaile in Italie and Greece (their owne long time cast a­side, and almost neglected) till after many yeares that the peace of Italie and of th'Empire Occidentall reuiued new clerkes, who re­couering and perusing the bookes and studies of the ciuiler ages, restored all maner of arts, and that of the Greeke and Latine Poe­sie withall into their former puritie and netnes. Which neuerthe­lesse did not so preuaile, but that the ryming Poesie of the Barba­rians remained still in his reputation, that one in the schole, this o­ther in Courts of Princes more ordinary and allowable.

CHAP. VII.

ANd this appeareth euidently by the workes of many learned men, who wrote about the time of Charlemaines raigne in the Empire Occidentall, where the Christian Religion, became through the excessiue authoritie of Popes, and deepe deuotion of Princes strongly fortified and established by erection of orders Monasti­cal, in which many simple clerks for deuotiō sake & sanctitie were receiued more then for any learning, by which occasion & the so­litarinesse of their life, waxing studious without discipline or in­struction by any good methode, some of them grew to be histo­riographers, [Page 9] some Poets, and following either the barbarous rude­nes of the time, or els their own idle inuentions, all that they wrote to the fauor or prayse of Princes, they did it in such maner of min­strelsie, and thought themselues no small fooles, when they could make their verses goe all in ryme as did the schoole of Salerne, dedicating their booke of medicinall rules vnto our king of En­gland, with this beginning.

And all the rest that follow throughout the whole booke more curiously then cleanely, neuerthelesse very well to the purpose of their arte. In the same time king Edward the iij. him selfe quarte­ring the Armes of England and France, did discouer his pretence and clayme to the Crowne of Fraunce, in these ryming verses.

Which verses Phillip de Valois then possessing the Crowne as next heire male by pretexte of the law Salique, and holding out Edward the third, aunswered in these other of as good stuffe.

It is found written of Pope Lucius, for his great auarice and ty­ranny vsed ouer the Clergy thus in ryming verses.

And as this was vsed in the greatest and gayest matters of Prin­ces and Popes by the idle inuention of Monasticall men then rai­gning [Page 10] al in their superlatiue. So did euery scholer & secular clerke or versifier, when he wrote any short poeme or matter of good lesson put it in ryme, whereby it came to passe that all your old Prouerbes and common sayinges, which they would haue plausi­ble to the reader and easie to remember and beare away, were of that sorte as these.

And this verse in disprayse of the Courtiers life following the Court of Rome.

And these written by a noble learned man.

And this other which to the great iniurie of all women was written (no doubt by some forlorne louer, or els some old malici­ous Monke) for one womans sake blemishing the whole sexe.

If I might haue bene his Iudge, I would haue had him for his labour, serued as Orpheus was by the women of Thrace. His eyes to be picket out with pinnes, for his so deadly belying of them, or worse handled if worse could be deuised. But will ye see how God raised a reuenger for the silly innocent women, for about the same ryming age came an honest ciuill Courtier somewhat bookish, and wrate these verses against the whole rable of Monkes.

Anon after came your secular Priestes as iolly rymers as the rest, who being sore agreeued with their Pope Calixtus, for that he had enioyned them from their wiues, & railed as fast against him.

Thus what in writing of rymes and registring of lyes was the Clergy of that fabulous age wholly occupied.

We finde some but very few of these ryming verses among the [Page 11] Latines of the ciuiller ages, and those rather hapning by chaunce then of any purpose in the writer, as this Distick among the di­sportes of Ouid.

The posteritie taking pleasure in this manner of Simphonie had leasure as it seemes to deuise many other knackes in their versify­ing that the auncient and ciuill Poets had not vsed before, where­of one was to make euery word of a verse to begin with the same letter, as did Hugobald the Monke who made a large poeme to the honour of Carolus Caluus, euery word beginning with C. which was the first letter of the king name thus.

And this was thought no small peece of cunning, being in deed a matter of some difficultie to finde out so many wordes begin­ning with one letter as might make a iust volume, though in truth it were but a phantasticall deuise and to no purpose at all more then to make them harmonicall to the rude eares of those barbarous ages.

Another of their pretie inuentions was to make a verse of such wordes as by their nature and manner of construction and situa­tion might be turned backward word by word, and make another perfit verse, but of quite contrary sence as the gibing Monke that wrote of Pope Alexander these two verses.

Which if ye will turne backward they make two other good verses, but of a contrary sence, thus.

And they called it Verse Lyon.

Thus you may see the humors and appetites of men how di­uers and chaungeable they be in liking new fashions, though ma­ny tymes worse then the old, and not onely in the manner of their life and vse of their garments, but also in their learninges and arts and specially of their languages.

CHAP. VIII.

FOr the respectes aforesayd in all former ages and in the most ciuill countreys and commons wealthes, good Poets and Poe­sie were highly esteemed and much fauoured of the greatest Prin­ces. For proofe whereof we read how much Amyntas king of Ma­cedonia made of the Tragicall Poet Euripides. And the Athenians of Sophocles. In what price the noble poemes of Homer were hol­den with Alexander the great, in so much as euery night they were layd vnder his pillow, and by day were carried in the rich iewell cofer of Darius lately before vanquished by him in battaile. And not onely Homer the father and Prince of the Poets was so hono­red by him, but for his sake all other meaner Poets, in so much as Cherillus one no very great good Poet had for euery verse well made a Phillips noble of gold, amounting in value to an angell En­glish, and so for euery hundreth verses (which a cleanely pen could speedely dispatch (he had a hundred angels. And since Alexan­der the great how Theocritus the Greeke Poet was fauored by Tholomee king of Egipt & Queene Berenice his wife, Ennius like­wise by Scipio Prince of the Romaines, Virgill also by th'Emperour Augustus. And in later times how much were Iehan de Mehune & Guillaume de Loris made of by the French kinges, and Geffrey Chaucer father of our English Poets by Richard the second, who as it was supposed gaue him the maner of new Holme in Oxford­shire. And Govver to Henry the fourth, and Harding to Edvvard the fourth. Also how Frauncis the Frenche king made Sangelais, Salmonius, Macrinus, and Clement Marot of his priuy Chamber for their excellent skill in vulgare and Latine Poesie. And king Henry the 8. her Maiesties father for a few Psalmes of Dauid tur­ned into English meetre by Sternhold, made him groome of his priuy chamber, & gaue him many other good gifts. And one Gray what good estimation did he grow vnto with the same king Hen­ry, & afterward with the Duke of Sommerset Protectour, for ma­king certaine merry Ballades, whereof one chiefly was, The hunte it vp, the hunte is vp. And Queene Mary his daughter for one Epi­thalamie [Page 13] or nuptiall song made by Vargas a Spanish Poet at her mariage with king Phillip in Winchester gaue him during his life two hundred Crownes pension: nor this reputation was giuen them in auncient times altogether in respect that Poesie was a de­licate arte, and the Poets them selues cunning Princepleasers, but for that also they were thought for their vniuersall knowledge to be very sufficient men for the greatest charges in their common wealthes, were it for counsell or for conduct, whereby no man neede to doubt but that both skilles may very well concurre and be most excellent in one person. For we finde that Iulius Caesar the first Emperour and a most noble Captaine, was not onely the most eloquent Orator of his time, but also a very good Poet, though none of his doings therein be now extant. And Quintus Catulus a good Poet, and Cornelius Gallus treasurer of Egipt, and Horace the most delicate of all the Romain Lyrickes, was thought meete and by many letters of great instance prouoked to be Secre­tarie of estate to Augustus th'Emperour, which neuerthelesse he refused for his vnhealthfulnesse sake, and being a quiet mynded man and nothing ambitious of glory: non voluit accedere ad Rem­publicam, as it is reported. And Ennius the Latine Poet was not as some perchaunce thinke, onely fauored by Scipio the Africane for his good making of verses, but vsed as his familiar and Counsellor in the warres for his great knowledge and amiable conuersation. And long before that Antimemdes and other Greeke Poets, as A­ristotle reportes in his Politiques, had charge in the warres. And Firtaeus the Poet being also a lame man & halting vpō one legge, was chosen by the Oracle of the gods from the Athenians to be generall of the Lacedemonians armie, not for his Poetrie, but for his wisedome and graue perswasions, and subtile Stratagemes where­by he had the victory ouer his enemies. So as the Poets seemed to haue skill not onely in the subtilties of their arte, but also to be meete for all maner of functions ciuill and martiall, euen as they found fauour of the times they liued in, insomuch as their credit and estimation generally was not small. But in these dayes (al­though some learned Princes may take delight in them) yet vni­uersally it is not so. For as well Poets as Poesie are despised, & the name become, of honorable infamous, subiect to scorne and deri­sion, [Page 14] and rather a reproch than a prayse to any that vseth it: for commonly who so is studious in th'Arte or shewes him selfe ex­cellent in it, they call him in disdayne a phantasticall: and a light headed or phantasticall man (by conuersion) they call a Poet. And this proceedes through the barbarous ignoraunce of the time, and pride of many Gentlemen, and others, whose grosse heads not be­ing brought vp or acquainted with any excellent Arte, nor able to contriue, or in manner conceiue any matter of subtiltie in any businesse or science, they doe deride and scorne it in all others as superfluous knowledges and vayne sciences, and whatsoeuer de­uise be of rare inuention they terme it phantasticall, construing it to the worst side: and among men such as be modest and graue, & of litle conuersation, nor delighted in the busie life and vayne ridi­culous actions of the popular, they call him in scorne a Philosopher or Poet, as much to say as a phantasticall man, very iniuriously (God wot) and to the manifestation of their own ignoraunce, not making difference betwixt termes. For as the euill and vicious disposition of the braine hinders the sounde iudgement and dis­course of man with busie & disordered phantasies, for which cause the Greekes call him [...], so is that part being well affected, not onely nothing disorderly or confused with any monstruous imaginations or conceits, but very formall, and in his much multi­formitie vniforme, that is well proportioned, and so passing cleare, that by it as by a glasse or mirrour, are represented vnto the soule all maner of bewtifull visions, whereby the inuentiue parte of the mynde is so much holpen, as without it no man could deuise any new or rare thing: and where it is not excellent in his kind, there could be no politique Captaine, nor any witty enginer or cunning artificer, nor yet any law maker or counsellor of deepe discourse, yea the Prince of Philosophers stickes not to say animam nō intel­ligere absque phantasmate, which text to another purpose Alexan­der Aphrodiscus well noteth, as learned men know. And this phan­tasie may be resembled to a glasse as hath bene sayd, whereof there be many tempers and manner of makinges, as the perspectiues doe acknowledge, for some be false glasses and shew thinges otherwise than they be in deede, and others right as they be in deede, neither fairer nor fouler, nor greater nor smaller. There be againe of these [Page 15] glasses that shew thinges exceeding faire and comely, others that shew figures very monstruous & illfauored. Euen so is the phan­tasticall part of man (if it be not disordered) a representer of the best, most comely and bewtifull images or apparances of thinges to the soule and according to their very truth. If otherwise, then doth it breede Chimeres & monsters in mans imaginations, & not onely in his imaginations, but also in all his ordinarie actions and life which ensues. Wherefore such persons as be illuminated with the brightest irradiations of knowledge and of the veritie and due proportion of things, they are called by the learned men not phan­tastici but euphantasiote, and of this sorte of phantasie are all good Poets, notable Captaines stratagematique, all cunning artificers and enginers, all Legislators Polititiens & Counsellours of estate, in whose exercises the inuentiue part is most employed and is to the sound & true iudgement of man most needful. This diuersitie in the termes perchance euery man hath not noted, & thus much be said in defence of the Poets honour, to the end no noble and ge­nerous minde be discomforted in the studie thereof, the rather for that worthy & honorable memoriall of that noble woman twise French Queene, Lady Anne of Britaine, wife first to king Charles the viij. and after to Lewes the xij. who passing one day from her lodging toward the kinges side, saw in a gallerie Maister Allame Chartier the kings Secretarie, an excellent maker or Poet leaning on a tables end a sleepe, & stooped downe to kisse him, saying thus in all their hearings, we may not of Princely courtesie passe by and not honor with our kisse the mouth from whence so many sweete ditties & golden poems haue issued. But me thinks at these words I heare some smilingly say, I would be loath to lacke liuing of my own till the Prince gaue me a maner of new Elme for my riming. And another to say I haue read that the Lady Cynthia came once downe out of her skye to kisse the faire yong lad Endimion as he lay a sleep: & many noble Queenes that haue bestowed kisses vpon their Princes paramours, but neuer vpon any Poets. The third me thinks shruggingly saith, I kept not to sit sleeping with my Poesie till a Queene came and kissed me. But what of all this? Princes may giue a good Poet such conuenient countenaunce and also benefite as are due to an excellent artificer, though they nei­ther [Page 16] kisse nor cokes them, and the discret Poet lookes for no such extraordinarie fauours, and aswell doth he honour by his pen the iust, liberall, or magnanimous Prince, as the valiaunt, amiable or bewtifull though they be euery one of them the good giftes of God. So it seemes not altogether the scorne and ordinarie disgrace offered vnto Poets at these dayes, is cause why few Gentlemen do delight in the Art, but for that liberalitie, is come to fayle in Prin­ces, who for their largesse were wont to be accompted th'onely pa­trons of learning, and first founders of all excellent artificers. Be­sides it is not perceiued, that Princes them selues do take any plea­sure in this science, by whose example the subiect is commonly led, and allured to all delights and exercises be they good or bad, according to the graue saying of the historian. Rex multitudinem religione impleuit, quae semper regenti similis est. And peraduēture in this iron & malitious age of ours, Princes are lesse delighted in it, being ouer earnestly bent and affected to the affaires of Empire & ambition, whereby they are as it were inforced to indeuour them selues to armes and practises of hostilitie, or to entend to the right pollicing of their states, and haue not one houre to bestow vpon any other ciuill or delectable Art of naturall or morall doctrine: nor scarce any leisure to thincke one good thought in perfect and godly contemplation, whereby their troubled mindes might be moderated and brought to tranquillitie. So as, it is hard to find in these dayes of noblemē or gentlemen any good Mathematiciā, or excellent Musitian, or notable Philosopher, or els a cunning Poet: because we find few great Princes much delighted in the same stu­dies. Now also of such among the Nobilitie or gentrie as be very well seene in many laudable sciences, and especially in making or Poesie, it is so come to passe that they haue no courage to write & if they haue, yet are they loath to be a knowen of their skill. So as I know very many notable Gentlemen in the Court that haue written commendably, and suppressed it agayne, or els suffred it to be publisht without their owne names to it: as if it were a discre­dit for a Gentleman, to seeme learned, and to shew himselfe amo­rous of any good Art. In other ages it was not so, for we read that Kinges & Princes haue written great volumes and publisht them vnder their owne regall titles. As to begin with Salomon the wisest [Page 17] of Kings, Iulius Caesar the greatest of Emperours, Hermes Tresme­gistus the holiest of Priestes and Prophetes, Euax king of Arabia wrote a booke of precious stones in verse, Prince Auicenna of Phi­sicke and Philosophie, Alphonsus a king of Spaine his Astronomi­call Tables, Almansor a king of Marrocco diuerse Philosophicall workes, and by their regall example our late soueraigne Lord king Henry the eight wrate a booke in defence of his faith, then perswaded that it was the true and Apostolicall doctrine, though it hath appeared otherwise since, yet his honour and learned zeale was nothing lesse to be allowed. Queenes also haue bene knowen studious, and to write large volumes, as Lady Margaret of Fraunce Queene of Nauarre in our time. But of all others the Emperour Nero was so well learned in Musique and Poesie, as when he was taken by order of the Senate and appointed to dye, he offered violence to him selfe and sayd, O quantus artisex pereo! as much to say, as, how is it possible a man of such science and lear­ning as my selfe, should come to this shamefull death? Th'empe­rour Octauian being made executor to Virgill, who had left by his last will and testament, that his bookes of the Aeneidos should be committed to the fire as things not perfited by him, made his excuse for infringing the deads will, by a nomber of verses most excellently written, whereof these are part.

Hauserit vna dies. And put his name to them. And be­fore him his vncle & father adoptiue Iulius Caesar, was not asha­med to publish vnder his owne name, his Commentaries of the French and Britaine warres. Since therefore so many noble Em­perours, Kings and Princes haue bene studious of Poesie and other ciuill arts, & not ashamed to bewray their skils in the same, let none other meaner person despise learning, nor (whether it be in prose or in Poesie, if they them selues be able to write, or haue written any thing well or of rare inuention) be any whit squeimish to let it be publisht vnder their names, for reason serues it, and modestie doth not repugne.

CHAP. IX.

VVHerefore the Nobilitie and dignitie of the Art conside­red aswell by vniuersalitie as antiquitie and the naturall excellence of it selfe, Poesie ought not to be abased and imployed vpon any vnworthy matter & subiect, nor vsed to vaine purposes, which neuerthelesse is dayly seene, and that is to vtter conceits in­famous & vicious or ridiculous and foolish, or of no good exam­ple & doctrine. Albeit in merry matters (not vnhonest) being vsed for mans solace and recreation it may be well allowed, for as I said before, Poesie is a pleasant maner of vtteraunce varying from the ordinarie of purpose to refresh the mynde by the eares delight. Poesie also is not onely laudable, because I said it was a metricall speach vsed by the first men, but because it is a metricall speach corrected and reformed by discreet iudgements, and with no lesse cunning and curiositie then the Greeke and Latine Poesie, and by Art bewtified & adorned, & brought far from the primitiue rude­nesse of the first inuentors, otherwise it might be sayd to me that Adam and Eues apernes were the gayest garmentes, because they were the first, and the shepheardes tente or pauillion, the best hou­sing, because it was the most auncient & most vniuersall: which I would not haue so taken, for it is not my meaning but that Art & cunning concurring with nature, antiquitie & vniuersalitie, in things indifferent, and not euill, doe make them more laudable. And right so our vulgar riming Poesie, being by good wittes brought to that perfection we see, is worthily to be preferred be­fore any other maner of vtterance in prose, for such vse and to such purpose as it is ordained, and shall hereafter be set downe more particularly.

CHAP. X.

HAuing sufficiently sayd of the dignitie of Poets and Poesie, now it is tyme to speake of the matter or subiect of Poesie, which to myne intent is, what soeuer wittie and delicate conceit of man meet or worthy to be put in written verse, for any ne­cessary vse of the present time, or good instruction of the posteri­tie. [Page 19] But the chief and principall is: the laud honour & glory of the immortall gods (I speake now in phrase of the Gentiles.) Second­ly the worthy gests of noble Princes: the memoriall and registry of all great fortunes, the praise of vertue & reproofe of vice, the in­struction of morall doctrines, the reuealing of sciences naturall & other profitable Arts, the redresse of boistrous & sturdie courages by perswasion, the consolation and repose of temperate myndes, finally the common solace of mankind in all his trauails and cares of this transitorie life. And in this last sort being vsed for recrea­tion onely, may allowably beare matter not alwayes of the gra­uest, or of any great commoditie or profit, hut rather in some sort, vaine, dissolute, or wanton, so it be not very scandalous & of euill example. But as our intent is to make this Art vulgar for all En­glish mens vse, & therefore are of necessitie to set downe the prin­cipal rules therein to be obserued: so in mine opinion it is no lesse expedient to touch briefly all the chief points of this auncient Poesie of the Greeks and Latines, so far forth as it is conformeth with ours. So as it may be knowen what we hold of them as bor­rowed, and what as of our owne peculiar. Wherefore now that we haue said, what is the matter of Poesie, we will declare the manner and formes of poemes vsed by the auncients.

CHAP. XI.

AS the matter of Poesie is diuers, so was the forme of their poemes & maner of writing, for all of them wrote not in one sort, euen as all of them wrote not vpon one matter. Neither was euery Poet alike cunning in all as in some one kinde of Poesie, nor vttered with like felicitie. But wherein any one most excelled, thereof he tooke a surname, as to be called a Poet Heroick, Lyrick, Elegiack, Epigrāmatist or otherwise. Such therefore as gaue them selues to write long histories of the noble gests of kings & great Princes entermedling the dealings of the gods, halfe gods or He­roes of the gentiles, & the great & waighty consequences of peace and warre, they called Poets Heroick, whereof Homer was chief and most auncient among the Greeks, Virgill among the Latines: [Page 20] Others who more delighted to write songs or ballads of pleasure, to be song with the voice, and to the harpe, lute, or citheron & such other musical, instruments, they were called melodious Poets [me­lici] or by a more common name Lirique Poets, of which sort was Pindarus, Anacreon and Callimachus with others among the Greeks: Horace and Catullus among the Latines. There were an other sort, who sought the fauor of faire Ladies, and coueted to be­mone their estates at large, & the perplexities of loue in a certain pitious verse called Elegie, and thence were called Eligiack: such among the Latines were Ouid, Tibullus, & Propertius. There were also Poets that wrote onely for the stage, I meane playes and in­terludes, to receate the people with matters of disporte, and to that intent did set forth in shewes pageants accompanied with speach the common behauiours and maner of life of priuate per­sons, and such as were the meaner sort of men, and they were cal­led Comicall Poets, of whom among the Greekes Menander and Aristophanes were most excellent, with the Latines Terence and Plautus. Besides those Poets Comick there were other who serued also the stage, but medled not with so base matters: For they set forth the dolefull falles of infortunate & afflicted Princes, & were called Poets Tragicall. Such were Euripides and Sophocles with the Greeks, Seneca among the Latines. There were yet others who mounted nothing so high as any of them both, but in base and humble stile by maner of Dialogue, vttered the priuate and fami­liar talke of the meanest sort of men, as shepheards, heywards and such like, such was among the Greekes Theocritus: and Virgill a­mong the Latines, their poemes were named Eglogues or shep­heardly talke. There was yet another kind of Poet, who intended to taxe the common abuses and vice of the people in rough and bitter speaches, and their inuectiues were called Satyres, and them selues Satyricques. Such were Lucilius, Iuuenall and Persius among the Latines, & with vs he that wrote the booke called Piers plow­man. Others of a more fine and pleasant head were giuen wholly to taunting and scoffing at vndecent things, and in short poemes vttered pretie merry conceits, and these men were called Epigram­matistes. There were others that for the peoples good instruction, and triall of their owne witts vsed in places of great assembly, to [Page 21] say by rote nombers of short and sententious meetres, very pithie and of good edification, and thereupon were called Poets Mimi­stes: as who would say, imitable and meet to be followed for their wise and graue lessons. There was another kind of poeme, inuen­ted onely to make sport, & to refresh the company with a maner of buffonry or counterfaiting of merry speaches, conuerting all that which they had hard spoken before, to a certaine derision by a quite contrary sence, and this was done, when Comedies or Tra­gedies were a playing, & that betweene the actes when the players went to make ready for another, there was great silence, and the people waxt weary, then came in these maner of conterfaite vices, they were called Pantomimi, and all that had before bene sayd, or great part of it, they gaue a crosse construction to it very ridicu­lously. Thus haue you how the names of the Poets were giuen them by the formes of their poemes and maner of writing.

CHAP. XII.

THe gods of the Gentiles were honoured by their Poetes in hymnes, which is an extraordinarie and diuine praise, extol­ling and magnifying them for their great powers and excellence of nature in the highest degree of laude, and yet therein their Poets were after a sort restrained: so as they could not with their credit vntruly praise their owne gods, or vse in their lauds any maner of grosse adulation or vnueritable report. For in any writer vntruth and flatterie are counted most great reproches. Wherfore to praise the gods of the Gentiles, for that by authoritie of their owne fabu­lous records, they had fathers and mothers, and kinred and allies, and wiues and concubines: the Poets first commended them by their genealogies or pedegrees, their mariages and aliances, their notable exploits in the world for the behoofe of mankind, and yet as I sayd before, none otherwise then the truth of their owne me­morials might beare, and in such sort as it might be well auouched by their old written reports, though in very deede they were not from the beginning all historically true, and many of them verie fictions, and such of them as were true, were grounded vpon some [Page 22] part of an historie or matter of veritie, the rest altogether figura­tiue & misticall, couertly applied to some morall or natural sense, as Cicero setteth it foorth in his bookes de natura deorum. For to say that Iupiter was sonne to Saturne, and that he maried his owne sister Iuno, might be true, for such was the guise of all great Prin­ces in the Orientall part of the world both at those dayes and now is. Againe that he loued Danae, Europa, Leda, Calisto & other faire Ladies daughters to kings, besides many meaner women, it is like­ly enough, because he was reported to be a very incontinent per­son, and giuen ouer to his lustes, as are for the most part all the greatest Princes, but that he should be the highest god in heauen, or that he should thunder and lighten, and do manie other things very vnnaturally and absurdly: also that Saturnus should geld his father Celius, to th'intent to make him vnable to get any moe chil­dren, and other such matters as are reported by them, it seemeth to be some wittie deuise and fiction made for a purpose, or a very no­ble and impudent lye, which could not be reasonably suspected by the Poets, who were otherwise discreete and graue men, and tea­chers of wisedome to others. Therefore either to transgresse the rules of their primitiue records, or to seeke to giue their gods ho­nour by belying them (otherwise then in that sence which I haue alledged) had bene a signe not onely of an vnskilfull Poet, but also of a very impudent and leude man. For vntrue praise neuer giueth any true reputation. But with vs Christians, who be better disci­plined, and do acknowledge but one God Almightie, euerlasting, and in euery respect selfe suffizant [autharcos] reposed in all per­fect rest & soueraigne blisse, not needing or exacting any forreine helpe or good. To him we can not exhibit ouermuch praise, nor belye him any wayes, vnlesse it be in abasing his excellencie by scarsitie of praise, or by misconceauing his diuine nature, weening to praise him, if we impute to him such vaine delights and peeuish affections, as commonly the frailest men are reproued for. Namely to make him ambitious of honour, iealous and difficult in his wor­ships, terrible, angrie, vindicatiue, a louer, a hater, a pitier, and in­digent of mans worships: finally so passionate as in effect he shold be altogether Anthropopathis. To the gods of the Gentiles they might well attribute these infirmities, for they were but the chil­dren [Page 23] of men, great Princes and famous in the world, and not for any other respect diuine, then by some resemblance of vertue they had to do good, and to benefite many. So as to the God of the Christians, such diuine praise might be verified: to th'other gods none, but figuratiuely or in misticall sense as hath bene said. In which sort the ancient Poets did in deede giue them great honors & praises, and made to them sacrifices, & offred them oblations of sundry sortes, euen as the people were taught and perswaded by such placations and worships to receaue any helpe, comfort or benefite to them selues, their wiues, children, possessions or goods. For if that opinion were not, who would acknowledge any God? the verie Etimologie of the name with vs of the North partes of the world declaring plainely the nature of the attribute, which is all one as if we sayd good, [bonus] or a giuer of good things. Therfore the Gentiles prayed for peace to the goddesse Pallas: for warre (such as thriued by it) to the god Mars: for honor and em­pire to the god Iupiter: for riches & wealth to Pluto: for eloquence and gayne to Mercurie: for safe nauigation to Neptune: for faire weather and prosperous windes to Eolus: for skill in musick and leechcraft to Apollo: for free life & chastitie to Diana: for bewtie and good grace, as also for issue & prosperitie in loue to Venus: for plenty of crop and corne to Ceres: for seasonable vintage to Bac­chus: and for other things to others. So many things as they could imagine good and desirable, and to so many gods as they suppo­sed to be authors thereof, in so much as Fortune was made a god­desse, & the feuer quartaine had her aulters, such blindnes & igno­rance raigned in the harts of men at that time, and whereof it first proceeded and grew, besides th'opinion hath bene giuen, appea­reth more at large in our bookes of Ierotekni, the matter being of another consideration then to be treated of in this worke. And these hymnes to the gods was the first forme of Poesie and the highest & the stateliest, & they were song by the Poets as priests, and by the people or whole congregation as we sing in our Churchs the Psalmes of Dauid, but they did it commonly in some shadie groues of tall tymber trees: In which places they reared aulters of greene turfe, and bestrewed them all ouer with flowers, and vpon them offred their oblations and made their bloudy sa­crifices, [Page 24] (for no kinde of gift can be dearer then life) of such quick cattaille, as euery god was in their conceit most delighted in, or in some other respect most fit for the misterie: temples or churches or other chappels then these they had none at those dayes.

CHAP. XIII.

SOme perchance would thinke that next after the praise and honoring of their gods, should commence the worshippings and praise of good men, and specially of great Princes and gouer­nours of the earth in soueraignety and function next vnto the gods. But it is not so, for before that came to passe, the Poets or holy Priests, chiefly studied the rebuke of vice, and to carpe at the common abuses, such as were most offensiue to the publique and priuate, for as yet for lacke of good ciuility and wholesome doctrines, there was greater store of lewde lourdaines then of wise and learned Lords, or of noble and vertuous Princes and go­uernours. So as next after the honours exhibited to their gods, the Poets finding in man generally much to reproue & litle to praise, made certaine poems in plaine meetres, more like to sermons or preachings then otherwise, and when the people were assembled togither in those hallowed places dedicate to their gods, because they had yet no large halles or places of conuenticle, nor had any other correction of their faults, but such as rested onely in re­bukes of wise and graue men, such as at these dayes make the peo­ple ashamed rather then afeard, the said auncient Poets vsed for that purpose, three kinds of poems reprehensiue, to wit, the Sa­tyre, the Comedie, & the Tragedie: and the first and most bitter in­uectiue against vice and vicious men, was the Satyre: which to th'intent their bitternesse should breede none ill will, either to the Poets, or to the recitours, (which could not haue bene chosen if they had bene openly knowen) and besides to make their admo­nitions and reproofs seeme grauer and of more efficacie, they made wise as if the gods of the woods, whom they called Satyres or Sil­uanes, should appeare and recite those verses of rebuke, whereas in deede they were but disguised persons vnder the shape of Sa­tyres [Page 25] as who would say, these terrene and base gods being conuer­sant with mans affaires, and spiers out of all their secret faults: had some great care ouer man, & desired by good admonitions to re­forme the euill of their life, and to bring the bad to amendment by those kinde of preachings, whereupon the Poets inuentours of the deuise were called Satyristes.

CHAP. XIIII.

BVt when these maner of solitary speaches and recitals of re­buke, vttered by the rurall gods out of bushes and briers, see­med not to the finer heads sufficiently perswasiue, nor so popular as if it were reduced into action of many persons, or by many voyces liuely represented to the eare and eye, so as a man might thinke it were euen now a doing. The Poets deuised to haue ma­ny parts played at once by two or three or foure persons, that de­bated the matters of the world, sometimes of their owne priuate affaires, sometimes of their neighbours, but neuer medling with any Princes matters nor such high personages, but commonly of marchants, souldiers, artificers, good honest housholders, and also of vnthrifty youthes, yong damsels, old nurses, bawds, brokers, ruffians and parasites, with such like, in whose behauiors, lyeth in effect the whole course and trade of mans life, and therefore ten­ded altogither to the good amendment of man by discipline and example. It was also much for the solace & recreation of the com­mon people by reason of the pageants and shewes. And this kind of poeme was called Comedy, and followed next after the Satyre, & by that occasion was somwhat sharpe and bitter after the nature of the Satyre, openly & by expresse names taxing men more ma­liciously and impudently then became, so as they were enforced for feare of quarell & blame to disguise their players with strange apparell, and by colouring their faces and carying hatts & capps of diuerse fashions to make them selues lesse knowen. But as time & experience do reforme euery thing that is amisse, so this bitter poeme called the old Comedy, being disused and taken away, the [Page 26] new Comedy came in place, more ciuill and pleasant a great deale and not touching any man by name, but in a certaine generalitie glancing at euery abuse, so as from thenceforth fearing none ill-will or enmitie at any bodies hands, they left aside their disgui­sings & played bare face, till one Roscius Gallus the most excellent player among the Romaines brought vp these vizards, which we see at this day vsed, partly to supply the want of players, when there were moe parts then there were persons, or that it was not thought meet to trouble & pester princes chambers with too ma­ny folkes. Now by the chaunge of a vizard one man might play the king and the carter, the old nurse & the yong damsell, the mar­chant & the souldier or any other part he listed very conuenient­ly. There be that say Roscius did it for another purpose, for being him selfe the best Histrien or buffon that was in his dayes to be found, insomuch as Cicero said Roscius contended with him by va­rietie of liuely gestures to surmount the copy of his speach, yet be­cause he was squint eyed and had a very vnpleasant countenance, and lookes which made him ridiculous or rather odious to the presence, he deuised these vizards to hide his owne ilfauored face. And thus much touching the Comedy.

CHAP. XV.

BVt because in those dayes when the Poets first taxed by Sa­tyre and Comedy, there was no great store of Kings or Empe­rors or such high estats (al men being yet for the most part rude, & in a maner popularly egall) they could not say of them or of their behauiours any thing to the purpose, which cases of Princes are si­thens taken for the highest and greatest matters of all. But after that some men among the moe became mighty and famous in the world, soueraignetie and dominion hauing learned them all ma­ner of lusts and licentiousnes of life, by which occasions also their high estates and felicities fell many times into most lowe and la­mentable fortunes: whereas before in their great prosperities they were both feared and reuerenced in the highest degree, after their deathes when the posteritie stood no more in dread of them, [Page 27] their infamous life and tyrannies were layd open to all the world, their wickednes reproched, their follies and extreme insolencies derided, and their miserable ends painted out in playes and page­ants, to shew the mutabilitie of fortune, and the iust punishment of God in reuenge of a vicious and euill life. These matters were also handled by the Poets and represented by action as that of the Comedies: but because the matter was higher then that of the Co­medies the Poets stile was also higher and more loftie, the proui­sion greater, the place more magnificent: for which purpose also the players garments were made more rich & costly and solemne, and euery other thing apperteining, according to that rate: So as where the Satyre was pronounced by rusticall and naked Syluanes speaking out of a bush, & the common players of interludes cal­led Plampedes, played barefoote vpon the floore: the later Come­dies vpon scaffolds, and by men well and cleanely hosed and shod. These matters of great Princes were played vpon lofty stages, & the actors thereof ware vpon their legges buskins of leather cal­led Cothurni, and other solemne habits, & for a speciall prehemi­nence did walke vpon those high corked shoes or pantofles, which now they call in Spaine & Italy Shoppini. And because those bus­kins and high shoes were commonly made of goats skinnes very finely tanned, and dyed into colours: or for that as some say the best players reward, was a goate to be giuen him, or for that as o­ther thinke, a goate was the peculiar sacrifice to the god Pan, king of all the gods of the woodes: forasmuch as a goate in Greeke is called Tragos, therfore these stately playes were called Tragedies. And thus haue ye foure sundry formes of Poesie Drāmatick re­prehensiue, & put in execution by the feate & dexteritie of mans body, to wit, the Satyre, old Comedie, new Comedie, and Tragedie, whereas all other kinde of poems except Eglogue whereof shalbe entreated hereafter, were onely recited by mouth or song with the voyce to some melodious instrument.

CHAP. XVI.

BVt as the bad and illawdable parts of all estates and degrees were taxed by the Poets in one sort or an other, and those of [Page 28] great Princes by Tragedie in especial, (& not till after their deaths) as hath bene before remembred, to th'intent that such exemplify­ing (as it were) of their blames and aduersities, being now dead, might worke for a secret reprehension to others that were aliue, li­uing in the same or like abuses. So was it great reason that all good and vertuous persons should for their well doings be rewarded with commendation, and the great Princes aboue all others with honors and praises, being for many respects of greater moment, to haue them good & vertuous then any inferior sort of men. Wher­fore the Poets being in deede the trumpetters of all praise and also of slaunder (not slaunder, but well deserued reproch) were in con­science & credit bound next after the diuine praises of the immor­tall gods, to yeeld a like ratable honour to all such amongst men, as most resembled the gods by excellence of function, and had a cer­taine affinitie with them, by more then humane and ordinarie ver­tues shewed in their actions here vpon earth. They were therfore praised by a second degree of laude: shewing their high estates, their Princely genealogies and pedegrees, mariages, aliances, and such noble exploites, as they had done in th'affaires of peace & of warre to the benefit of their people and countries, by inuention of any noble science, or profitable Art, or by making wholsome lawes or enlarging of their dominions by honorable and iust conquests, and many other wayes. Such personages among the Gentiles were Bacchus, Ceres, Perseus, Hercules, Theseus and many other, who thereby came to be accompted gods and halfe gods or goddesses [Heroes] & had their cōmēdations giuen by Hymne accordingly or by such other poems as their memorie was therby made famous to the posteritie for euer after, as shal be more at large sayd in place conuenient. But first we will speake somewhat of the playing pla­ces, and prouisions which were made for their pageants & pomps representatiue before remembred.

CHAP. XVII.

AS it hath bene declared, the Satyres were first vttered in their hallowed places within the woods where they honoured their [Page 29] gods vnder the open heauen, because they had no other housing fit for great assemblies. The old comedies were plaid in the broad streets vpon wagons or carts vncouered, which carts were floored with bords & made for remouable stages to passe from one streete of their townes to another, where all the people might stand at their ease to gaze vpō the sights. Their new comedies or ciuill en­terludes were played in open pauilions or tents of linnen cloth or lether, halfe displayed that the people might see. Afterward when Tragidies came vp they deuised to present them vpon scaf­foldes or stages of timber, shadowed with linen or lether as the o­ther, and these stages were made in the forme of a Semicircle, wher­of the bow serued for the beholders to sit in, and the string or fore­part was appointed for the floore or place where the players vt­tered, & had in it sundry little diuisions by curteins as trauerses to serue for seueral roomes where they might repaire vnto & change their garmēts & come in againe, as their speaches & parts were to be renewed. Also there was place appointed for the musiciens to sing or to play vpon their instrumentes at the end of euery scene, to the intent the people might be refreshed, and kept occupied. This maner of stage in halfe circle, the Greekes called theatrum, as much to say as a beholding place, which was also in such sort contriued by benches and greeces to stand or sit vpon, as no man should empeach anothers sight. But as ciuilitie and withall wealth encreased, so did the minde of man growe dayly more haultie and superfluous in all his deuises, so as for their theaters in halfe cir­cle, they came to be by the great magnificence of the Romain princes and people somptuously built with marble & square stone in forme all round, & were called Amphitheaters, wherof as yet ap­pears one amōg the anciēt ruines of Rome, built by Pompeius Mag­nus, for capasitie able to receiue at ease fourscore thousand persons as it is left written, & so curiously contriued as euery man might depart at his pleasure, without any annoyance to other. It is also to be knowne that in those great Amphitheaters, were exhibited all maner of other shewes & disports for the people, as their fence playes, or digladiations of naked men, their wrastlings, runnings, leapings and other practises of actiuitie and strength, also their baitings of wild beasts, as Elephants, Rhinocerōs, Tigers, Leopards [Page 30] and others, which sights much delighted the common people, and therefore the places required to be large and of great content.

CHAP. XVIII.

SOme be of opinion, and the chiefe of those who haue written in this Art among the Latines, that the pastorall Poesie which we commonly call by the name of Eglogue and Bucolick, a tearme brought in by the Sicilian Poets, should be the first of any other, and before the Satyre comedie or tragedie, because, say they, the shepheards and haywards assemblies & meetings when they kept their cattell and heards in the common fields and forests, was the first familiar conuersation, and their babble and talk vnder bushes and shadie trees, the first disputation and contentious reasoning, and their fleshly heates growing of ease, the first idle wooings, and their songs made to their mates or paramours either vpon sorrow or iolity of courage, the first amorous musicks, sometime also they sang and played on their pipes for wagers, striuing who should get the best game, and be counted cunningest. All this I do agree vnto, for no doubt the shepheards life was the first ex­ample of honest felowship, their trade the first art of lawfull ac­quisition or purchase, for at those daies robbery was a manner of purchase. So saith Aristotle in his bookes of the Politiques, and that pasturage was before tillage, or fishing or fowling, or any o­ther predatory art or cheuisance. And all this may be true, for be­fore there was a shepheard keeper of his owne, or of some other bodies flocke, there was none owner in the world, quick cattel be­ing the first property of any forreine possession. I say forreine, be­cause alway men claimed property in their apparell and armour, and other like things made by their owne trauel and industry, nor thereby was there yet any good towne or city or Kings palace, where pageants and pompes might be shewed by Comedies or Tragedies. But for all this, I do deny that the Eglogue should be the first and most auncient forme of artificiall Poesie, being per­swaded that the Poet deuised the Eglogue long after the other drammatick poems, not of purpose to counterfait or represent the [Page 31] rusticall manner of loues and communication: but vnder the vaile of homely persons, and in rude speeches to insinuate and glaunce at greater matters, and such as perchance had not bene safe to haue beene disclosed in any other sort, which may be perceiued by the Eglogues of Virgill, in which are treated by figure matters of grea­ter importance then the loues of Titirus and Corydon. These E­glogues came after to containe and enforme morall discipline, for the amendment of mans behauiour, as be those of Mantuan and other moderne Poets.

CHAP. XIX.

THere is nothing in man of all the potential parts of his mind (reason and will except) more noble or more necessary to the actiue life thē memory: because it maketh most to a sound iudge­ment and perfect worldly wisedome, examining and comparing the times past with the present, and by them both considering the time to come, concludeth with a stedfast resolution, what is the best course to be taken in all his actions and aduices in this world: it came vpon this reason, experience to be so highly commended in all consultations of importance, and preferred before any lear­ning or science, and yet experience is no more than a masse of memories assembled, that is, such trials as man hath made in time before. Right so no kinde of argument in all the Oratorie craft, doth better perswade and more vniuersally satisfie then example, which is but the representation of old memories, and like successes happened in times past. For these regards the Poesie historicall is of all other next the diuine most honorable and worthy, as well for the common benefit as for the speciall comfort euery man re­ceiueth by it. No one thing in the world with more delectation reuiuing our spirits then to behold as it were in a glasse the liuely image of our deare forefathers, their noble and vertuous maner of life, with other things autentike, which because we are not able o­therwise to attaine to the knowledge of, by any of our sences, we apprehend them by memory, whereas the present time and things [Page 32] so swiftly passe away, as they giue vs no leasure almost to looke into them, and much lesse to know & consider of them through­ly. The things future, being also euents very vncertaine, and such as can not possibly be knowne because they be not yet, can not be vsed for example nor for delight otherwise thē by hope. Though many promise the contrary, by vaine and deceitfull arts taking vpon them to reueale the truth of accidents to come, which if it were so as they surmise, are yet but sciences meerely coniecturall, and not of any benefit to man or to the common wealth, where they be vsed or professed. Therefore the good and exemplarie things and actions of the former ages, were reserued only to the historicall reportes of wise and graue men: those of the present time left to the fruition and iudgement of our sences: the future as hazards and incertaine euentes vtterly neglected and layd aside for Magicians and mockers to get their liuings by: such manner of men as by negligence of Magistrates and remisses of lawes e­uery countrie breedeth great store of. These historical men neuer­thelesse vsed not the matter so precisely to wish that al they wrote should be accounted true, for that was not needefull nor expe­dient to the purpose, namely to be vsed either for example or for pleasure: considering that many times it is seene a fained matter or altogether fabulous, besides that it maketh more mirth than any other, works no lesse good conclusions for example then the most true and veritable: but often times more, because the Poet hath the handling of them to fashion at his pleasure, but not so of th'other which must go according to their veritie & none otherwise with­out the writers great blame. Againe as ye know mo and more ex­cellent examples may be fained in one day by a good wit, then many ages through mans frailtie are able to put in vre, which made the learned and wittie men of those times to deuise many historicall matters of no veritie at all, but with purpose to do good and no hurt, as vsing them for a maner of discipline and president of commendable life. Such was the common wealth of Plato, and Sir Thomas Moores Vtopia, resting all in deuise, but neuer put in execution, and easier to be wished then to be performed. And you shall perceiue that histories were of three sortes, wholly true and wholly false, and a third holding part of either, but for honest re­creation, [Page 33] and good example they were all of them. And this may be apparant to vs not onely by the Poeticall histories, but also by those that be written in prose: for as Homer wrate a fabulous or mixt report of the siege of Troy, and another of Ʋlisses errors or wandrings, so did Museus compile a true treatise of the life & loues of Leander and Hero, both of them Heroick, and to none ill edifi­cation. Also as Theucidides wrate a worthy and veritable historie, of the warres betwixt the Athenians and the Peloponeses: so did Ze­nophon, a most graue Philosopher, and well trained courtier and counsellour make another (but fained and vntrue) of the childhood of Cyrus king of Persia, neuertheles both to one effect, that is for example and good information of the posteritie. Now because the actions of meane & base personages, tend in very few cases to any great good example: for who passeth to follow the steps, and ma­ner of life of a craftes man, shepheard or sailer, though he were his father or dearest frend? yea how almost is it possible that such ma­ner of men should be of any vertue other then their profession re­quireth? Therefore was nothing committed to historie, but mat­ters of great and excellent persons & things that the same by irri­tation of good courages (such as emulation causeth) might worke more effectually, which occasioned the story writer to chuse an higher stile fit for his subiect, the Prosaicke in prose, the Poet in meetre, and the Poets was by verse exameter for his grauitie and statelinesse most allowable: neither would they intermingle him with any other shorter measure, vnlesse it were in matters of such qualitie, as became best to be song with the voyce, and to some musicall instrument, as were with the Greeks, all your Hymnes & Encomia of Pindarus & Callimachus, not very histories but a ma­ner of historicall reportes in which cases they made those poemes in variable measures, & coupled a short verse with a long to serue that purpose the better, and we our selues who compiled this trea­tise haue written for pleasure a litle brief Romance or historicall ditty in the English tong of the Isle of great Britaine in short and long meetres, and by breaches or diuisions to be more commodi­ously song to the harpe in places of assembly, where the company shalbe desirous to heare of old aduentures & valiaunces of noble knights in times past, as are those of king Arthur and his knights [Page 34] of the round table, Sir Beuys of Southampton, Guy of Warvvicke and others like. Such as haue not premonition hereof, and consi­deration of the causes alledged, would peraduenture reproue and disgrace euery Romance, or short historicall ditty for that they be not written in long meeters or verses Alexandrins, according to the nature & stile of large histories, wherin they should do wrong for they be sundry formes of poems and not all one.

CHAP. XX.

IN euerie degree and sort of men vertue is commendable, but not egally: not onely because mens estates are vnegall, but for that also vertue it selfe is not in euery respect of egall value and estima­tion. For continence in a king is of greater merit, then in a carter, th'one hauing all oportunities to allure him to lusts, and abilitie to serue his appetites, th'other partly, for the basenesse of his estate wanting such meanes and occasions, partly by dread of lawes more inhibited, and not so vehemently caried away with vnbridled af­fections, and therfore deserue not in th'one and th'other like praise nor equall reward, by the very ordinarie course of distributiue iu­stice. Euen so parsimonie and illiberalitie are greater vices in a Prince then in a priuate person, and pusillanimitie and iniustice likewise: for to th'one, fortune hath supplied inough to maintaine them in the contrarie vertues, I meane, fortitude, iustice, liberali­tie, and magnanimitie: the Prince hauing all plentie to vse largesse by, and no want or neede to driue him to do wrong. Also all the aides that may be to lift vp his courage, and to make him stout and fearelesse (augent animos fortunae) saith the Mimist, and very truly, for nothing pulleth downe a mans heart so much as aduersitie and lacke. Againe in a meane man prodigalitie and pride are faultes more reprehensible then in Princes, whose high estates do require in their countenance, speech & expence, a certaine extraordinary, and their functions enforce them sometime to exceede the limites of mediocritie not excusable in a priuat person, whose manner of life and calling hath no such exigence. Besides the good and bad of Princes is more exemplarie, and thereby of greater moment then [Page 35] the priuate persons. Therfore it is that the inferiour persons, with their inferiour vertues haue a certaine inferiour praise, to guerdon their good with, & to comfort them to continue a laudable course in the modest and honest life and behauiour. But this lyeth not in written laudes so much as in ordinary reward and commendation to be giuen them by the mouth of the superiour magistrate. For histories were not intended to so generall and base a purpose, al­beit many a meane souldier & other obscure persons were spoken of and made famous in stories, as we finde of Irus the begger, and Thersites the glorious noddie, whom Homer maketh mention of. But that happened (& so did many like memories of meane men) by reason of some greater personage or matter that it was long of, which therefore could not be an vniuersall case nor chaunce to e­uery other good and vertuous person of the meaner sort. Where­fore the Poet in praising the maner of life or death of anie meane person, did it by some litle dittie or Epigram or Epitaph in fewe verses & meane stile conformable to his subiect. So haue you how the immortall gods were praised by hymnes, the great Princes and heroicke personages by ballades of praise called Encomia, both of them by historicall reports of great grauitie and maiestie, the infe­riour persons by other slight poemes.

CHAP. XXI.

THe profitable sciences were no lesse meete to be imported to the greater number of ciuill men for instruction of the peo­ple and increase of knowledge, then to be reserued and kept for clerkes and great men onely. So as next vnto the things histo­ricall such doctrines and arts as the common wealth fared the bet­ter by, were esteemed and allowed. And the same were treated by Poets in verse Exameter sauouring the Heroicall, and for the gra­uitie and comelinesse of the meetre most vsed with the Greekes and Latines to sad purposes, Such were the Philosophicall works of Lucretius Carus among the Romaines, the Astronomicall of A­ratus and Manilius, one Greeke th'other Latine, the Medicinall of Nicander, and that of Oprianus of hunting and fishes, and many moe that were too long to recite in this place.

CHAP. XXII.

THe first founder of all good affections is honest loue, as the mother of all the vicious is hatred. It was not therefore with­out reason that so commendable, yea honourable a thing as loue well meant, were it in Princely estate or priuate, might in all ci­uil common wealths be vttered in good forme and order as other laudable things are. And because loue is of all other humane af­fections the most puissant and passionate, and most generall to all sortes and ages of men and women, so as whether it be of the yong or old or wise or holy, or high estate or low, none euer could truly bragge of any exemptiō in that case: it requireth a forme of Poesie variable, inconstant, affected, curious and most witty of a­ny others, whereof the ioyes were to be vttered in one sorte, the sorrowes in an other, and by the many formes of Poesie, the ma­ny moodes and pangs of louers, throughly to be discouered: the poore soules sometimes praying, beseeching, sometime honou­ring, auancing, praising: an other while railing, reuiling, and cur­sing: then sorrowing, weeping, lamenting: in the ende laughing, reioysing & solacing the beloued againe, with a thousand delicate deuises, odes, songs, elegies, ballads, sonets and other ditties, moo­uing one way and another to great compassion.

CHAP. XXIII.

PLeasure is the chiefe parte of mans felicity in this world, and also (as our Theologians say) in the world to come. Therefore while we may (yea alwaies if it coulde be) to reioyce and take our pleasures in vertuous and honest sort, it is not only allowable, but also necessary and very naturall to man. And many be the ioyes and consolations of the hart: but none greater, than such as he may vtter and discouer by some conuenient meanes: euen as to suppresse and hide a mans mirth, and not to haue therein a parta­ker, or at least wise a witnes, is no little griefe and infelicity. Ther­fore nature and ciuility haue ordained (besides the priuate solaces) publike reioisings for the comfort and recreation of many. And [Page 37] they be of diuerse sorts and vpon diuerse occasions growne: one & the chiefe was for the publike peace of a countrie the greatest of any other ciuill good. And wherein your Maiestie (my most gra­cious Soueraigne) haue shewed your selfe to all the world for this one and thirty yeares space of your glorious raigne, aboue all o­ther Princes of Christendome, not onely fortunate, but also most sufficient vertuous and worthy of Empire. An other is for iust & honourable victory atchieued against the forraine enemy. A third at solemne feasts and pompes of coronations and enstallments of honourable orders. An other for iollity at weddings and marria­ges. An other at the births of Princes children. An other for pri­uate entertainements in Court, or other secret disports in cham­ber, and such solitary places. And as these reioysings tend to diuers effects, so do they also carry diuerse formes and nominations: for those of victorie and peace are called Triumphall, whereof we our selues haue heretofore giuen some example by our Triumphals written in honour of her Maiesties long peace. And they were v­sed by the auncients in like manner, as we do our generall proces­sions or Letanies with bankets and bonefires and all manner of ioyes. Those that were to honour the persons of great Princes or to solemnise the pompes of any installment were called Encomia, we may call them carols of honour. Those to celebrate marri­ages were called songs nuptiall or Epithalamies, but in a certaine misticall sense as shall be said hereafter. Others for magnificence at the natiuities of Princes children, or by custome vsed yearely vpon the same dayes, are called songs natall or Genethliaca. Others for secret recreation and pastime in chambers with company or a­lone were the ordinary Musickes amorous, such as might be song with voice or to the Lute, Citheron or Harpe, or daunced by mea­sures as the Italian Pauan and galliard are at these daies in Princes Courts and other places of honourable or ciuill assembly, and of all these we will speake in order and very briefly.

CHAP. XXIIII.

LAmenting is altogether contrary to reioising, euery man saith so, and yet is it a peece of ioy to be able to lament with ease, [Page 38] and freely to poure forth a mans inward sorrowes and the greefs wherewith his minde is surcharged. This was a very necessary de­uise of the Poet and a fine, besides his poetrie to play also the Phi­sitian, and not onely by applying a medicine to the ordinary sick­nes of mankind, but by making the very greef it selfe (in part) cure of the disease. Nowe are the causes of mans sorrowes many: the death of his parents, frends, allies, and children: (though many of the barbarous nations do reioyce at their burials and sorrow at their birthes) the ouerthrowes and discomforts in battell, the sub­uersions of townes and cities, the desolations of countreis, the losse of goods and worldly promotions, honour and good renowne: fi­nally the trauails and torments of loue forlorne or ill bestowed, either by disgrace, deniall, delay, and twenty other wayes, that well experienced louers could recite. Such of these greefs as might be refrained or holpen by wisedome, and the parties owne good en­deuour, the Poet gaue none order to sorrow them: for first as to the good renowne it is lost, for the more part by some default of the owner, and may be by his well doings recouered againe. And if it be vniustly taken away, as by vntrue and famous libels, the of­fenders recantation may suffise for his amends: so did the Poet Stesichorus, as it is written of him in his Pallinodie vpon the dis­prayse of Helena, and recouered his eye sight. Also for worldly goods they come and go, as things not long proprietary to any bo­dy, and are not yet subiect vnto fortunes dominion so, but that we our selues are in great part accessarie to our own losses and hinde­raunces, by ouersight & misguiding of our selues and our things, therefore why should we bewaile our such voluntary detriment? But death the irrecouerable losse, death the dolefull departure of frendes, that can neuer be recontinued by any other meeting or new acquaintance. Besides our vncertaintie and suspition of their estates and welfare in the places of their new abode, seemeth to carry a reasonable pretext of iust sorrow. Likewise the great o­uerthrowes in battell and desolations of countreys by warres, as­well for the losse of many liues and much libertie as for that it toucheth the whole state, and euery priuate man hath his por­tion in the damage: Finally for loue, there is no frailtie in flesh and bloud so excusable as it, no comfort or discomfort greater [Page 39] then the good and bad successe thereof, nothing more natu­rall to man, nothing of more force to vanquish his will and to inuegle his iudgement. Therefore of death and burials, of th'ad­uersities by warres, and of true loue lost or ill bestowed, are th'onely sorrowes that the noble Poets sought by their arte to re­moue or appease, not with any medicament of a contrary tem­per, as the Galemstes vse to cure [contraria contrarijs] but as the Paracelsians, who cure [similia similibus] making one dolour to expell another, and in this case, one short sorrowing the re­medie of a long and grieuous sorrow. And the lamenting of deathes was chiefly at the very burialls of the dead, also at monethes mindes and longer times, by custome continued yeare­ly, when as they vsed many offices of seruice and loue towardes the dead, and thereupon are called Obsequies in our vulgare, which was done not onely by cladding the mourners their friendes and seruauntes in blacke vestures, of shape dolefull and sad, but also by wofull countenaunces and voyces, and besides by Poeticall mournings in verse. Such funerall songs were cal­led Epicedia if they were song by many, and Monodia if they were vttered by one alone, and this was vsed at the enterment of Princes and others of great accompt, and it was reckoned a great ciuilitie to vse such ceremonies, as at this day is also in some coun­trey vsed. In Rome they accustomed to make orations funerall and commendatorie of the dead parties in the publique place cal­led Procostris: and our Theologians, in stead thereof vse to make sermons, both teaching the people some good learning, and also saying well of the departed. Those songs of the dolorous discom­fits in battaile, and other desolations in warre, or of townes sac­caged and subuerted, were song by the remnant of the army o­uerthrowen, with great skrikings and outcries, holding the wrong end of their weapon vpwards in signe of sorrow and dispaire. The cities also made generall mournings & offred sacrifices with Poe­ticall songs to appease the wrath of the martiall gods & goddesses. The third sorrowing was of loues, by long lamentation in Elegie: so was their song called, and it was in a pitious maner of meetre, placing a limping Pentameter, after a lusty Exameter, which made it go dolourously more then any other meeter.

CHAP. XXV.

TO returne from sorrow to reioysing it is a very good hap and no vnwise part for him that can do it, I say therefore, that the comfort of issue and procreation of children is so naturall and so great, not onely to all men but specially to Princes, as duetie and ciuilitie haue made it a common custome to reioyse at the birth of their noble children, and to keepe those dayes hallowed and fe­stiuall for euer once in the yeare, during the parentes or childrens liues: and that by publique order & consent. Of which reioysings and mirthes the Poet ministred the first occasion honorable, by presenting of ioyfull songs and ballades, praysing the parentes by proofe, the child by hope, the whole kinred by report, & the day it selfe with wishes of all good successe, long life, health & prosperi­tie for euer to the new borne. These poemes were called in Greeke Genetliaca, with vs they may be called natall or birth songs.

CHAP. XXVI.

AS the consolation of children well begotten is great, no lesse but rather greater ought to be that which is occasion of chil­dren, that is honorable matrimonie, a loue by al lawes allowed, not mutable nor encombred with such vaine cares & passions, as that other loue, whereof there is no assurance, but loose and fickle affe­ction occasioned for the most part by sodaine sights and acquain­tance of no long triall or experience, nor vpon any other good ground wherein any suretie may be conceiued: wherefore the Ci­uill Poet could do no lesse in conscience and credit, then as he had before done to the ballade of birth: now with much better deuo­tion to celebrate by his poeme the chearefull day of mariages as­well Princely as others, for that hath alwayes bene accompted with euery countrey and nation of neuer so barbarous people, the highest & holiest, of any ceremonie appertaining to man: a match forsooth made for euer and not for a day, a solace prouided for youth, a comfort for age, a knot of alliance & amitie indissoluble: great reioysing was therefore due to such a matter and to so glad­some [Page 41] a time. This was done in ballade wise as the natall song, and was song very sweetely by Musitians at the chamber dore of the Bridegroome and Bride at such times as shalbe hereafter declared and they were called Epithalamies as much to say as ballades at the bedding of the bride: for such as were song at the borde at dinner or supper were other Musickes and not properly Epithalamies. Here, if I shall say that which apperteineth to th'arte, and disclose the misterie of the whole matter, I must and doe with all humble reuerence bespeake pardon of the chaste and honorable eares, least I should either offend them with licentious speach, or leaue them ignorant of the ancient guise in old times vsed at weddings (in my simple opinion) nothing reproueable. This Epithalamie was de­uided by breaches into three partes to serue for three seuerall fits or times to be song. The first breach was song at the first parte of the night when the spouse and her husband were brought to their bed & at the very chamber dore, where in a large vtter roome vsed to be (besides the musitiēs) good store of ladies or gētlewomen of their kinsefolkes, & others who came to honor the mariage, & the tunes of the songs were very loude and shrill, to the intent there might no noise be hard out of the bed chāber by the skreeking & outcry of the young damosell feeling the first forces of her stiffe & rigorous young man, she being as all virgins tender & weake, & vnexpert in those maner of affaires. For which purpose also they vsed by old nurses (appointed to that seruice) to suppresse the noise by casting of pottes full of nuttes round about the chamber vpon the hard floore or pauemēt, for they vsed no mattes nor rushes as we doe now. So as the Ladies and gentlewomen should haue their eares so occupied what with Musicke, and what with their handes wantonly scambling and catching after the nuttes, that they could not intend to harken after any other thing. This was as I said to diminish the noise of the laughing lamenting spouse. The tenour of that part of the song was to congratulate the first acquaintance and meeting of the young couple, allowing of their parents good discretions in making the match, thē afterward to sound cherfully to the onset and first encounters of that amorous battaile, to declare the cōfort of childrē, & encrease of loue by that meane cheifly cau­sed: the bride shewing her self euery waies well disposed and still [Page 42] supplying occasions of new lustes and loue to her husband, by her obedience and amorous embracings and all other allurementes. About midnight or one of the clocke, the Musicians came again to the chamber dore (all the Ladies and other women as they were of degree, hauing taken their leaue, and being gone to their rest.) This part of the ballade was to refresh the faint and weried bodies and spirits, and to animate new appetites with cherefull wordes, encoraging thē to the recontinuance of the same entertainments, praising and commēding (by supposall) the good conformities of them both, & their desire one to vanquish the other by such frēd­ly conflictes: alledging that the first embracementes neuer bred barnes, by reason of their ouermuch affection and heate, but onely made passage for children and enforced greater liking to the late made match. That the second assaultes, were lesse rigorous, but more vigorous and apt to auance the purpose of procreation, that therefore they should persist in all good appetite with an in­uincible courage to the end. This was the second part of the E­pithalamie. In the morning when it was faire broad day, & that by liklyhood all tournes were sufficiently serued, the last actes of the enterlude being ended, & that the bride must within few hours arise and apparrell her selfe, no more as a virgine, but as a wife, and about dinner time must by order come forth Sicut sponsade thalamo, very demurely and stately to be sene and acknowledged of her parents and kinsfolkes whether she were the same woman or a changeling, or dead or aliue, or maimed by any accident no­cturnall. The same Musicians came againe with this last part, and greeted them both with a Psalme of new applausions, for that they had either of them so well behaued them selues that night, the husband to rob his spouse of her maidenhead and saue her life, the bride so lustely to satisfie her husbandes loue and scape with so litle daunger of her person, for which good chaunce that they should make a louely truce and abstinence of that warre till next night sealing the placard of that louely league, with twentie ma­ner of sweet kisses, then by good admonitions enformed them to the frugall & thriftie life all the rest of their dayes. The good man getting and bringing home, the wife sauing that which her hus­band should get, therewith to be the better able to keepe good [Page 43] hospitalitie, according to their estates, and to bring vp their chil­dren, (if God sent any) vertuously, and the better by their owne good example. Finally to perseuer all the rest of their life in true and inuiolable wedlocke. This ceremony was omitted when men maried widowes or such as had tasted the frutes of loue before, (we call them well experienced young women) in whom there was no feare of daunger to their persons, or of any outcry at all, at the time of those terrible approches. Thus much touching the vsage of Epithalamie or bedding ballad of the ancient times, in which if there were any wanton or lasciuious matter more then ordinarie which they called Ficenina licētia it was borne withal for that time because of the matter no lesse requiring. Catullus hath made of thē one or two very artificiall and ciuil: but none more excellent then of late yeares a young noble man of Germanie as I take it Iohānes secundus who in that and in his poeme Debasis, passeth any of the auncient or moderne Poetes in my iudgment.

CHAP. XXVII.

BVt all the world could not keepe, nor any ciuill ordinance to the contrary so preuaile, but that men would and must needs vtter their splenes in all ordinarie matters also: or else it seemed their bowels would burst, therefore the poet deuised a prety fa­shioned poeme short and sweete (as we are wont to say) and called it Epigramma in which euery mery conceited man might without any long studie or tedious ambage, make his frend sport, and an­ger his foe, and giue a prettie nip, or shew a sharpe conceit in few verses: for this Epigramme is but an inscription or writting made as it were vpon a table, or in a windowe, or vpon the wall or man­tell of a chimney in some place of common resort, where it was allowed euery man might come, or be sitting to chat and prate, as now in our tauernes and common tabling houses, where many merry heades meete, and scrible with ynke with chalke, or with a cole such matters as they would euery mā should know, & descant vpō. Afterward the same came to be put in paper and in bookes, and vsed as ordinarie missiues, some of frendship, some [Page 44] of defiaunce, or as other messages of mirth: Martiall was the cheife of this skil among the Latines, & at ahese days the best Epigrāmes we finde, & of the sharpest conceit are those that haue bene gathe­red among the reliques of the two muet Satyres in Rome, Pasquill and Marphorir, which in time of Sede vacante, when merry con­ceited men listed to gibe & iest at the dead Pope, or any of his Car­dinales, they fastened them vpon those Images which now lie in the open streets, and were tollerated, but after that terme expired they were inhibited againe. These inscriptions or Epigrammes at their begining had no certaine author that would auouch them, some for feare of blame, if they were ouer saucy or sharpe, others for modestie of the writer as was that disticke of Virgil which he set vpon the pallace gate of the emperour Augustus, which I will re­cite for the breifnes and quicknes of it, & also for another euente that fell out vpon the matter worthy to be remembred. These were the verses.

Which I haue thus Englished,

As much to say, God sheweth his power by the night raines. Caesar his magnificence by the pompes of the day.

These two verses were very well liked, and brought to th'Em­perours Maiestie, who tooke great pleasure in them, & willed the author should be knowen. A sausie courtier profered him selfe to be the man, and had a good reward giuen him: for the Emperour him self was not only learned, but of much munificence toward all learned men: whereupon Ʋirgill seing him self by his ouermuch modestie defrauded of the reward, that an impudent had gotten by abuse of his merit, came the next night, and fastened vpon the same place this halfe metre, foure times iterated. Thus.

And there it remained a great while because no man wist what [Page 45] it meant, till Virgill opened the whole fraude by this deuise. He wrote aboue the fame halfe metres this whole verse Exameter.

And then finished the foure half metres, thus.

And put to his name Publius Virgilius Maro. This matter came by and by to Th'emperours eare, who taking great pleasure in the deuise called for Virgill, and gaue him not onely a present reward, with a good allowance of dyet a bonche in court as we vse to call it: but also held him for euer after vpon larger triall he had made of his learning and vertue in so great reputation, as he vouchsafed to giue him the name of a frend (amicus) which among the Ro­manes was so great an honour and speciall fauour, as all such per­sons were allowed to the Emperours table, or to the Senatours who had receiued them (as frendes) and they were the only men that came ordinarily to their boords, & solaced with them in their chambers, and gardins when none other could be admitted.

CHAP. XXVIII.

AN Epitaph is but a kind of Epigram only applied to the re­port of the dead persons estate and degree, or of his other good or bad partes, to his commendation or reproch: and is an inscrip­tion such as a man may commodiously write or engraue vpon a tombe in few verses, pithie, quicke and sententious for the passer by to peruse, and iudge vpon without any long tariaunce: So as if it exceede the measure of an Epigram, it is then (if the verse be correspondent) rather an Elegie then an Epitaph which errour many of these bastard rimers commit, because they be not learned, nor (as we are wont to say) their catftes masters, for they make long and tedious discourses, and write them in large tables to be hanged vp in Churches and chauncells ouer the tombes of great men and others, which be so exceeding long as one must haue halfe [Page 46] a dayes leasure to reade one of them, & must be called away before he come halfe to the end, or else be locked into the Church by the Sexten as I my selfe was once serued reading an Epitaph in a cer­tain cathedrall Church of England. They be ignorāt of poesie that call such lōg tales by the name of Epitaphes, they might better call them Elegies, as I said before, and then ought neither to be engra­uen nor hanged vp in tables. I haue seene them neuertheles vpon many honorable tombes of these late times erected, which doe ra­ther disgrace then honour either the matter or maker.

CHAP. XXIX.

AS frendes be a rich and ioyfull possession, so be foes a conti­nuall torment and canker to the minde of man, and yet there is no possible meane to auoide this inconuenience, for the best of vs all, & he that thinketh he liues most blamelesse, liues not with­out enemies, that enuy him for his good parts, or hate him for his euill. There be wise men, and of them the great learned man Plu­tarch that tooke vpon them to perswade the benefite that men receiue by their enemies, which though it may be true in manner of Paradoxe, yet I finde mans frailtie to be naturally such, and al­wayes hath beene, that he cannot conceiue it in his owne case, nor shew that patience and moderation in such greifs, as becommeth the man perfite and accomplisht in all vertue: but either in deede or by word, he will seeke reuenge against them that malice him, or practise his harmes, specially such foes as oppose themselues to a mans loues. This made the auncient Poetes to inuent a meane to rid the gall of all such Vindicatiue men: so as they might be a wrecked of their wrong, & neuer bely their enemie with slaun­derous vntruthes. And this was done by a maner of imprecation, or as we call it by cursing and banning of the parties, and wishing all euill to a light vpon them, and though it neuer the sooner happened, yet was it great easment to the boiling stomacke: They were called Dirae, such as Virgill made aginst Battarus, and Ouide against Ibis: we Christians are forbidden to vse such vncharitable fashions, and willed to referre all our reuenges to God alone

CHAP. XXX

THere be also other like Epigrammes that were sent vsually for new yeares giftes or to be Printed or put vpon their banket­ting dishes of suger plate, or of march paines, & such other dainty meates as by the curtesie & custome euery gest might carry from a common feast home with him to his owne house, & were made for the nonce, they were called Nenia or apophoreta, and neuer contained aboue one verse, or two at the most, but the shorter the better, we call them Posies, and do paint them now a dayes vpon the backe sides of our fruite trenchers of wood, or vse them as de­uises in rings and armes and about such courtly purposes. So haue we remembred and set forth to your Maiestie very briefly, all the commended fourmes of the auncient Poesie, which we in our vul­gare makings do imitate and vse vnder these common names: en­terlude, song, ballade, carroll and ditty: borrowing them also from the French al sauing this word (song) which is our naturall Saxon English word. The rest, such as time and vsurpation by custome haue allowed vs out of the primitiue Greeke & Latine, as Come­die, Tragedie, Ode, Epitaphe, Elegie, Epigramme, and other moe. And we haue purposely omitted all nice or scholasticall curiosi­ties not meete for your Maiesties contemplation in this our vul­gare arte, and what we haue written of the auncient formes of Poemes, we haue taken from the best clerks writing in the same arte. The part that next followeth to wit of proportion, because the Greeks nor Latines neuer had it in vse, nor made any obserua­tion, no more then we doe of their feete, we may truly affirme, to haue bene the first deuisers thereof our selues, as [...], and not to haue borrowed it of any other by learning or imitation, and thereby trusting to be holden the more excusable if any thing in this our labours happen either to mislike, or to come short of th'authors purpose, because commonly the first attempt in any arte or engine artificiall is amendable, & in time by often experiences reformed. And so no doubt may this deuise of ours be, by others that shall take the penne in hand after vs.

CHAP. XXXI.

IT appeareth by sundry records of bookes both printed & writ­ten, that many of our countreymen haue painfully trauelled in this part: of whose works some appeare to be but bare translatiōs, other some matters of their owne inuention and very commenda­ble, whereof some recitall shall be made in this place, to th'intent chiefly that their names should not be defrauded of such honour as seemeth due to them for hauing by their thankefull studies so much beautified our English tong (as at this day it will be found our nation is in nothing inferiour to the French or Italian for co­pie of language, subtiltie of deuice, good method and proportion in any forme of poeme, but that they may compare with the most, and perchance passe a great many of them. And I will not reach aboue the time of king Edward the third, and Richard the second for any that wrote in English meeter: because before their times by reason of the late Normane conquest, which had brought into this Realme much alteration both of our langage and lawes, and there withall a certain martiall barbarousnes, whereby the study of all good learning was so much decayd, as long time after no man or very few entended to write in any laudable science: so as be­yond that time there is litle or nothing worth commendation to be founde written in this arte. And those of the first age were Chaucer and Gower both of them as I suppose Knightes. After whom followed Iohn Lydgate the monke of Bury, & that nameles, who wrote the Satyre called Piers Plowman, next him followed Harding the Chronicler, then in king Henry th'eight times Skelton, (I wot not for what great worthines) surnamed the Poet Laureat. In the latter end of the same kings raigne sprōg vp a new compa­ny of courtly makers, of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th'elder & Hen­ry Earle of Surrey were the two chieftaines, who hauing trauailed into Italie, and there tasted the sweete and stately measures and stile of the Italiā Poesie as nouices newly crept out of the schooles of Dante Arioste and Petrarch, they greatly pollished our rude & homely maner of vulgar Poesie, from that it had bene before, and for that cause may iustly be sayd the first reformers of our English [Page 49] meetre and stile. In the same time or not long after was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar makings. After­ward in king Edward the sixths time came to be in reputation for the same facultie Thomas Sternehold, who first translated into En­glish certaine Psalmes of Dauid, and Iohn Hoywood the Epigram­matist who for the myrth and quicknesse of his conceits more then for any good learning was in him came to be well benefited by the king. But the principall man in this profession at the same time was Maister Edward Ferrys a man of no lesse mirth & felici­tie that way, but of much more skil, & magnificence in his meeter, and therefore wrate for the most part to the stage, in Tragedie and sometimes in Comedie or Enterlude, wherein he gaue the king so much good recreation, as he had thereby many good re­wardes. In Queenes Maries time florished aboue any other Do­ctour Phaer one that was well learned & excellently well transla­ted into English verse Heroicall certaine bookes of Virgils Aenei­dos. Since him followed Maister Arthure Golding, who with no lesse commendation turned into English meetre the Metamor­phosis of Ouide, and that other Doctour, who made the supple­ment to those bookes of Virgils Aeneidos, which Maister Phaer left vndone. And in her Maiesties time that now is are sprong vp an other crew of Courtly makers Noble men and Gentlemen of her Maiesties owne seruauntes, who haue written excellently well as it would appeare if their doings could be found out and made publicke with the rest, of which number is first that noble Gentleman Edward Earle of Oxford. Thomas Lord of Bukhurst, when he was young, Henry Lord Paget, Sir Philip Sydney, Sir Wal­ter Rawleigh, Master Edward Dyar, Maister Fulke Greuell, Gascon, Britton, Turberuille and a great many other learned Gentlemen, whose names I do not omit for enuie, but to auoyde tediousnesse, and who haue deserued no little commendation. But of them all particularly this is myne opinion, that Chaucer, with Gower, Lid­gat and Harding for their antiquitie ought to haue the first place, and Chaucer as the most renowmed of them all, for the much learning appeareth to be in him aboue any of the rest. And though many of his bookes be but bare translations out of the Latin & French, yet are they wel handled, as his bookes of Troilus [Page 50] and Cresseid, and the Romant of the Rose, whereof he translated but one halfe, the deuice was Iohn de Mehunes a French Poet, the Canterbury tales were Chaucers owne inuention as I suppose, and where he sheweth more the naturall of his pleasant wit, then in any other of his workes, his similitudes comparisons and all other descriptions are such as can not be amended. His meetre Heroi­call of Troilus and Cresseid is very graue and stately, keeping the the staffe of seuen, and the verse of ten, his other verses of the Can­terbury tales be but riding ryme, neuerthelesse very well becom­ming the matter of that pleasaunt pilgrimage in which euery mans part is playd with much decency. Gower sauing for his good and graue moralities, had nothing in him highly to be commen­ded, for his verse was homely and without good measure, his wordes strained much deale out of the French writers, his ryme wrested, and in his inuentions small subtillitie: the applications of his moralities are the best in him, and yet those many times ve­ry grossely bestowed, neither doth the substance of his workes sufficiently aunswere the subtilitie of his titles. Lydgat a transla­tour onely and no deuiser of that which he wrate, but one that wrate in good verse. Harding a Poet Epick or Historicall, hand­led himselfe well according to the time and maner of his subiect. He that wrote the Satyr of Piers Ploughman, seemed to haue bene a malcontent of that time, and therefore bent himselfe who­ly to taxe the disorders of that age, and specially the pride of the Romane Clergy, of whose fall he seemeth to be a very true Pro­phet, his verse is but loose meetre, and his termes hard and ob­scure, so as in them is litle pleasure to be taken. Skelton a sharpe Satirist, but with more rayling and scoffery then became a Poet Lawreat, such among the Greekes were called Pantomimi, with vs Buffons, altogether applying their wits to Scurrillities & other ri­diculous matters. Henry Earle of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyat, be­tweene whom I finde very litle differēce, I repute them (as before) for the two chief lāternes of light to all others that haue since em­ployed their pennes vpon English Poesie, their conceits were lof­tie, their stiles stately, their conueyance cleanely, their termes pro­per, their meetre sweete and well proportioned, in all imitating very naturally and studiously their Maister Francis Petrarcha. [Page 51] The Lord Vaux his commendatiō lyeth chiefly in the facillitie of his meetre, and the aptnesse of his descriptions such as he taketh vpon him to make, namely in sundry of his Songs, wherein he sheweth the counterfait actiō very liuely & pleasantly. Of the la­ter sort I thinke thus. That for Tragedie, the Lord of Buckhurst, & Maister Edward Ferrys for such doings as I haue sene of theirs do deserue the hyest price: Th'Earle of Oxford and Maister Ed­wardes of her Maiesties Chappell for Comedy and Enterlude. For Eglogue and pastorall Poesie, Sir Philip Sydney and Maister Chal­lenner, and that other Gentleman who wrate the late shepheardes Callender. For dittie and amourous Ode I finde Sir Walter Raw­leyghs vayne most loftie, insolent, and passionate. Maister Edward Dyar, for Elegie most sweete, solempne and of high conceit. Gas­con for a good meeter and for a plentifull vayne. Phaer and Gol­ding for a learned and well corrected verse, specially in translation cleare and very faithfully answering their authours intent. Others haue also written with much facillitie, but more commendably perchance if they had not written so much nor so popularly. But last in recitall and first in degree is the Queene our soue­raigne Lady, whose learned, delicate, noble Muse, easily surmoun­teth all the rest that haue writtē before her time or since, for sence, sweetnesse and subtillitie, be it in Ode, Elegie, Epigram, or any other kinde of poeme Heroick or Lyricke, wherein it shall please her Maiestie to employ her penne, euen by as much oddes as her owne excellent estate and degree exceedeth all the rest of her most humble vassalls.

CHAP. I.

IT is said by such as professe the Mathema­ticall sciences, that all things stand by pro­portion, and that without it nothing could stand to be good or beautiful. The Doctors of our Theologie to the same effect, but in other termes, say: that God made the world by number, measure and weight: some for weight say tune, and peraduenture better. For weight is a kind of measure or of much conueniencie with it: and therefore in their descriptions be alwayes coupled together (statica & metrica) weight and measures. Hereupon it seemeth the Philosopher gathers a triple proportion, to wit, the Arithme­ticall, the Geometricall, and the Musical. And by one of these three is euery other proportion guided of the things that haue conueni­encie by relation, as the visible by light colour and shadow: the au­dible by stirres, times and accents: the odorable by smelles of sun­dry temperaments: the tastible by sauours to the rate: the tangible by his obiectes in this or that regard. Of all which we leaue to speake, returning to our poeticall proportion, which holdeth of the Musical, because as we sayd before Poesie is a skill to speake & write harmonically: and verses or rime be a kind of Musicall vt­terance, by reason of a certaine congruitie in sounds pleasing the eare, though not perchance so exquisitely as the harmonicall con­cents of the artificial Musicke, consisting in strained tunes, as is the vocall Musike, or that of melodious instruments, as Lutes, Harpes, Regals, Records and such like. And this our proportion Poeticall [Page 54] resteth in fiue points: Staffe, Measure, Concord, Scituation and fi­gure all which shall be spoken of in their places.

CHAP. II.

STaffe in our vulgare Poesie I know not why it should be so cal­led, vnlesse it be for that we vnderstand it for a bearer or sup­porter of a song or ballad, not vnlike the old weake bodie, that is stayed vp by his staffe, and were not otherwise able to walke or to stand vpright. The Italian called it Stanza, as if we should say a resting place: and if we consider well the forme of this Poeticall staffe, we shall finde it to be a certaine number of verses allowed to go altogether and ioyne without any intermission, and doe or should finish vp all the sentēces of the same with a full period, vn­lesse it be in som special cases, & there to stay till another staffe fol­low of like sort: and the shortest staffe conteineth not vnder foure verses, nor the longest aboue ten, if it passe that number it is rather a whole ditty then properly a staffe. Also for the more part the staues stand rather vpon the euen nomber of verses then the odde, though there be of both sorts. The first proportion then of a staffe is by quadrien or foure verses. The second of fiue verses, and is sel­dome vsed. The third by sizeine or sixe verses, and is not only most vsual, but also very pleasant to th'eare. The fourth is in seuē verses, & is the chiefe of our ancient proportions vsed by any rimer wri­ting any thing of historical or graue poeme, as ye may see in Chau­cer and Lidgate th'one writing the loues of Troylus and Cresseida, th'other of the fall of Princes: both by them translated not deuised. The first proportion is of eight verses very stately and Heroicke, and which I like better then that of seuen, because it receaueth better band. The sixt is of nine verses, rare but very graue. The seuenth proportion is of tenne verses, very stately, but in many mens opinion too long: neuerthelesse of very good grace & much grauitie. Of eleuen and twelue I find none ordinary staues vsed in any vulgar language, neither doth it serue well to continue any historicall report or ballade, or other song: but is a dittie of it self, and no staffe, yet some moderne waiters haue vsed it but very sel­dome. Then last of all haue ye a proportion to be vsed in the num­ber [Page 55] of your staues, as to a caroll and a ballade, to a song, & a round, or virelay. For to an historicall poeme no certain number is limi­ted, but as the matter fals out: also a distick or couple of verses is not to be accompted a staffe, but serues for a continuance as we see in Elegie, Epitaph, Epigramme or such meetres, of plaine concord not harmonically entertangled, as some other songs of more de­licate musick be.

A staffe of foure verses containeth in it selfe matter sufficient to make a full periode or complement of sence, though it doe not alwayes so, and therefore may go by diuisions.

A staffe of fiue verses, is not much vsed because he that can not comprehend his periode in foure verses, will rather driue it into six then leaue it in fiue, for that the euen number is more agreable to the eare then the odde is.

A staffe of sixe verses, is very pleasant to the eare, and also ser­ueth for a greater complement then the inferiour staues, which maketh him more commonly to be vsed.

A staffe of seuen verses, most vsuall with our auncient makers, also the staffe of eight, nine and ten of larger complement then the rest, are onely vsed by the later makers, & vnlesse they go with very good bande, do not so well as the inferiour staues. Therefore if ye make your staffe of eight, by two fowers not entertangled, it is not a huitaine or a staffe of eight, but two quadreins, so is it in ten verses, not being entertangled they be but two staues of fiue.

CHAP. III.

MEeter and measure is all one, for what the Greekes call [...], the Latines call Mensura, and is but the quantitie of a verse, either long or short. This quantitie with them consisteth in the number of their feete: & with vs in the number of sillables, which are comprehended in euery verse, not regarding his feete, other­wise then that we allow in scanning our verse, two sillables to make one short portiō (suppose it a foote) in euery verse. And after that sort ye may say, we haue feete in our vulgare rymes, but that is improperly: for a foote by his sence naturall is a mēber of office and function, and serueth to three purposes, that is to say, to go, to [Page 56] runne, & to stand still so: as he must be sometimes swift, sometimes slow, sometime vnegally marching or peraduēture steddy. And if our feete Poeticall want these qualities it can not be sayd a foote in sence translatiue as here. And this commeth to passe, by reason of the euident motion and stirre, which is perceiued in the soun­ding of our wordes not alwayes egall: for some aske longer, some shorter time to be vttered in, & so by the Philosophers definition, stirre is the true measure of time. The Greekes & Latines because their wordes hapned to be of many sillables, and very few of one sillable, it fell out right with them to conceiue and also to perceiue, a notable diuersitie of motion and times in the pronuntiation of their wordes, and therefore to euery bissillable they allowed two times, & to a trissillable three times, & to euery polisillable more, ac­cording to his quantitie, & their times were some long, some short according as their motions were slow or swift. For the sound of some sillable stayd the eare a great while, and others slid away so quickly, as if they had not bene pronounced, then euery sillable being allowed one time, either short or long, it fell out that euery tetrasillable had foure times, euery trissillable three, and the bissilla­ble two, by which obseruation euery word, not vnder that sise, as he ranne or stood in a verse, was called by them a foote of such and so many times, namely the bissillable was either of two long times as the spondeus, or two short, as the pirchius, or of a long & a short as the trocheus, or of a short and a long as the iambus: the like rule did they set vpon the word trissillable, calling him a foote of three times: as the dactilus of a long and two short: the mollossus of three long, the tribracchus of three short, the amphibracchus of two long and a short the amphimacer of two short and a long. The word of foure sillables they called a foote of foure times, some or all of them, either long or short: and yet not so content they mounted higher, and because their wordes serued well thereto, they made feete of sixe times: but this proceeded more of curiositie, then otherwise: for whatsoeuer foote passe the trissillable is compoun­ded of his inferiour as euery number Arithmeticall aboue three, is cōpounded of the inferiour numbers as twise two make foure, but the three is made of one number, videl. of two and an vnitie. Now because our naturall & primitiue language of the Saxon En­glish, [Page 57] beares not any wordes (at least very few) of moe sillables then one (for whatsoeuer we see exceede, commeth to vs by the alterati­ons of our language growen vpon many conquestes and other­wise) there could be no such obseruation of times in the sound of our wordes, & for that cause we could not haue the feete which the Greeks and Latines haue in their meetres: but of this stirre & mo­tion of their deuised feete, nothing can better shew the qualitie thē these runners at common games, who setting forth from the first goale, one giueth the start speedely & perhaps before he come half way to th'other goale, decayeth his pace, as a mā weary & fainting: another is slow at the start, but by amending his pace keepes euen with his fellow or perchance gets before him: another one while gets ground, another while loseth it again, either in the beginning, or middle of his race, and so proceedes vnegally sometimes swift somtimes slow as his breath or forces serue him: another sort there be that plod on, & will neuer change their pace, whether they win or lose the game: in this maner doth the Greeke dactilus begin slowly and keepe on swifter till th'end, for his race being deuided into three parts, he spends one, & that is the first slowly, the other twaine swiftly: the anapestus his two first parts swiftly, his last slow­ly: the Molossus spends all three parts of his race slowly and egally Bacchius his first part swiftly, & two last parts slowly. The tribra­chus all his three parts swiftly: the antibacchius his two first partes slowly, his last & third swiftly: the amphimacer, his first & last part slowly & his middle part swiftly: the amphibracus his first and last parts swiftly but his midle part slowly, & so of others by like pro­portiō. This was a pretie phantasticall obseruation of them, & yet brought their meetres to haue a maruelous good grace, which was in Greeke called [...]: whence we haue deriued this word ryme, but improperly & not wel because we haue no such feete or times or stirres in our meeters, by whose simpathie, or pleasant cōueniēcie with th'eare, we could take any delight: this rithmus of theirs, is not therfore our rime, but a certaine musicall numerositie in vtterance, and not a bare number as that of the Arithmeticall cōputation is, which therfore is not called rithmus but arithmus. Take this away from them, I meane the running of their feete, there is nothing of curiositie among them more then with vs nor yet so much.

CHAP. III.

TO returne from rime to our measure againe, it hath bene sayd that according to the number of the sillables contained in euery verse, the same is sayd a long or short meeter, and his shor­test proportion is of foure sillables, and his longest of twelue, they that vse it aboue, passe the bounds of good proportion. And euery meeter may be aswel in the odde as in the euen sillable, but better in the euen, and one verse may begin in the euen, & another follow in the odde, and so keepe a commendable proportion. The verse that containeth but two silables, which may be in one word, is not vsuall: therefore many do deny him to be a verse, saying that it is but a foot, and that a meeter can haue no lesse then two feete at the least, but I find it otherwise aswell among the best Italian Poets, as also with our vulgar makers, and that two sillables serue wel for a short measure in the first place, and midle, and end of a staffe: and also in diuerse scituations and by sundry distances, and is very pas­sionate and of good grace, as shalbe declared more at large in the Chapter of proportion by scituation.

The next measure is of two feete or of foure sillables, and then one word tetrasillable diuided in the middest makes vp the whole meeter, as thus

Or a trissillable and one monosillable thus. Soueraine God, or two bissillables and that is plesant thus, Restore againe, or with foure monossillables, and that is best of all thus, When I doe thinke, I finde no sauour in a meetre of three sillables nor in effect in any odde, but they may be vsed for varietie sake, and specially being enterla­ced with others the meetre of six sillables is very sweete and dili­cate as thus.

The meter of seuen sillables is not vsual, no more is that of nine and eleuen, yet if they be well composed, that is, their Cesure well appointed, and their last accent which makes the concord, they [Page 59] are cōmendable inough, as in this ditty where one verse is of eight an other is of seuen, and in the one the accent vpon the last, in the other vpon the last saue on.

And all the reason why these meeters in all sillable are alowable is, for that the sharpe accent falles vpon the penultima or last saue one sillable of the verse, which doth so drowne the last, as he see­meth to passe away in maner vnpronounced, & so make the verse seeme euen: but if the accent fall vpon the last and leaue two flat to finish the verse, it will not seeme so: for the odnes will more notoriously appeare, as for example in the last verse before recited Not loue but still be sweruing, say thus Loue it is a maruelous thing. Both verses be of egall quantitie, vidz. seauen sillables a peece, and yet the first seemes shorter then the later, who shewes a more od­nesse then the former by reason of his sharpe accent which is vpō the last sillable, and makes him more audible then if he had slid a­way with a flat accent, as the word swéruing.

Your ordinarie rimers vse very much their measures in the odde as nine and eleuen, and the sharpe accent vpon the last sillable, which therefore makes him go ill fauouredly and like a minstrels musicke. Thus sayd one in a meeter of eleuen very harshly in mine eare, whether it be for lacke of good rime or of good reason, or of both I wot not.

This sort of compotition in the odde I like not, vnlesse it be holpen by the Cesure or by the accent as I sayd before.

The meeter of eight is no lesse pleasant then that of sixe, and [Page 60] the Cesure fals iust in the middle, as this of the Earle of Surreyes.

The meeeter of ten sillables is very stately and Heroicall, and must haue his Cesure fall vpon the fourth sillable, and leaue sixe behinde him thus.

This meeter of twelue sillables the French man calleth a verse Alexandrine, and is with our moderne rimers most vsuall: with the auncient makers it was not so. For before Sir Thomas Wiats time they were not vsed in our vulgar, they be for graue and stately matters fitter than for any other ditty of pleasure. Some makers write in verses of foureteene sillables giuing the Cesure at the first eight, which proportion is tedious, for the length of the verse ke­peth the eare too long from his delight, which is to heare the ca­dence or the tuneable accent in the ende of the verse. Neuerthelesse that of twelue if his Cesure be iust in the middle, and that ye suffer him to runne at full length, and do not as the common rimers do, or their Printer for sparing of paper, cut them of in the middest, wherin they make in two verses but halfe rime. They do very wel as wrote the Earle of Surrey translating the booke of the preacher.

This verse is a very good Alexandrine, but perchaunce woulde haue sounded more musically, if the first word had bene a dissilla­ble, or two monosillables and not a trissillable: hauing his sharpe accent vppon the Antepenultima as it hath, by which occasion it runnes like a Dactill, and carries the two later sillables away so speedily as it seemes but one foote in our vulgar measure, and by that meanes makes the verse seeme but of eleuen sillables, which odnesse is nothing pleasant to the eare. Iudge some body whether it would haue done better (if it might) haue bene sayd thus,

Letting the sharpe accent fall vpon bo, or thus

For now the sharpe accent falles vpon bo, and so doth it vpon the last in restóre, which was not in th'other verse. But because we haue seemed to make mention of Cesure, and to appoint his place in euery measure, it shall not be amisse to say somewhat more of it, [Page 61] & also of such pauses as are vsed in vtterance, & what commoditie or delectation they bring either to the speakers or to the hearers.

CHAP. IIII.

THere is no greater difference betwixt a ciuill and brutish vt­teraunce then cleare distinction of voices: and the most lau­dable languages are alwaies most plaine and distinct, and the bar­barous most confuse and indistinct: it is therefore requisit that leasure be taken in pronuntiation, such as may make our wordes plaine & most audible and agreable to the eare: also the breath as­keth to be now and then releeued with some pause or stay more or lesse: besides that the very nature of speach (because it goeth by clauses of seuerall construction & sence) requireth some space be­twixt thē with intermissiō of sound, to th'end they may not huddle one vpon another so rudly & so fast that th'eare may not perceiue their difference. For these respectes the auncient reformers of lan­guage, inuented, three maner of pauses, one of lesse leasure then another, and such seuerall intermissions of sound to serue (besides easmēt to the breath) for a treble distinction of sentēces or parts of speach, as they happened to be more or lesse perfect in sence. The shortest pause or intermissiō they called comma as who would say a peece of a speach cut of. The secōd they called colon, not a peece but as it were a member for his larger length, because it occupied twise as much time as the comma. The third they called periodus, for a cō ­plement or full pause, and as a resting place and perfection of so much former speach as had bene vttered, and from whence they needed not to passe any further vnles it were to renew more mat­ter to enlarge the tale. This cannot be better represented then by exāple of these cōmō trauailers by the hie ways, where they seeme to allow thēselues three maner of staies or easements: one a horse­backe calling perchaunce for a cup of beere or wine, and hauing dronken it vp rides away and neuer lights: about noone he com­meth to his Inne, & there baites him selfe and his horse an houre or more: at night when he can conueniently trauaile no further, he taketh vp his lodging, and rests him selfe till the morrow: from whence he followeth the course of a further voyage, if his businesse [Page 62] be such. Euen so our Poet when he hath made one verse, hath as it were finished one dayes iourney, & the while easeth him selfe with one baite at the least, which is a Comma or Cesure in the mid way, if the verse be euen and not odde, otherwise in some other place, and not iust in the middle. If there be no Cesure at all, and the verse long, the lesse is the makers skill and hearers delight. Therefore in a verse of twelue sillables the Cesure ought to fall right vpon the sixt sillable: in a verse of eleuen vpon the sixt also leauing fiue to follow. In a verse often vpon the fourth, leauing sixe to follow. In a verse of nine vpon the fourth, leauing fiue to follow. In a verse of eight iust in the middest, that is, vpon the fourth. In a verse of seauen, either vpon the fourth or none at all, the meeter very ill brooking any pause. In a verse of sixe sillables and vnder is neede­full no Cesure at all, because the breath asketh no reliefe: yet if ye giue any Comma, it is to make distinction of sense more then for any thing else: and such Cesure must neuer be made in the middest of any word, if it be well appointed. So may you see that the vse of these pawses or distinctions is not generally with the vulgar Poet as it is with the Prose writer because the Poetes cheife Musicke lying in his rime or concorde to heare the Simphonie, he maketh all the hast he can to be at an end of his verse, and delights not in many stayes by the way, and therefore giueth but one Ce­sure to any verse: and thus much for the sounding of a meetre. Ne­uerthelesse he may vse in any verse both his comma, colon, and in­terrogatiue point, as well as in prose. But our auncient rymers, as Chaucer, Lydgate & others, vsed these Cesures either very seldome, or not at all, or else very licentiously, and many times made their meetres (they called them riding ryme) of such vnshapely wordes as would allow no conuenient Cesure, and therefore did let their rymes runne out at length, and neuer stayd till they came to the end: which maner though it were not to be misliked in some sort of meetre, yet in euery long verse the Cesure ought to be kept pre­cisely, if it were but to serue as a law to correct the licentiousnesse of rymers, besides that it pleaseth the eare better, & sheweth more cunning in the maker by following the rule of his restraint. For a rymer that will be tyed to no rules at all, but range as he list, may easily vtter what he will: but such maner of Poesie is called id our [Page 63] vulgar, ryme dogrell, with which rebuke we will in no case our maker should be touched. Therfore before all other things let his ryme and concordes be true, cleare and audible with no lesse de­light, then almost the strayned note of a Musicians mouth, & not darke or wrenched by wrong writing as many doe to patch vp their meetres, and so follow in their arte neither rule, reason, nor ryme. Much more might be sayd for the vse of your three pauses, comma, colon, & periode, for perchance it be not all a matter to vse many commas, and few, nor colons likewise, or long or short periodes, for it is diuersly vsed, by diuers good writers. But because it apperteineth more to the oratour or writer in prose then in verse, I will say no more in it, then thus, that they be vsed for a commodious and sensible distinction of clauses in prose, since e­uery verse is as it were a clause of it selfe, and limited with a Cesure howsoeuer the sence beare, perfect or imperfect, which difference is obseruable betwixt the prose and the meeter.

CHAP. V.

BEcause we vse the word rime (though by maner of abusion) yet to helpe that fault againe we apply it in our vulgar Poesie an­other way very commendably & curiously. For wanting the cur­rantnesse of the Greeke and Latine feete, in stead thereof we make in th'ends of our verses a certaine tunable sound: which anon af­ter with another verse reasonably distant we accord together in the last fall or cadence: the eare taking pleasure to heare the like tune reported, and to feele his returne. And for this purpose serue the monosillables of our English Saxons excellently well, because they do naturally and indifferently receiue any accent, & in them if they finish the verse, resteth the shrill accent of necessitie, and so doth it not in the last of euery bissillable, nor of euery polisillable word: but to the purpose, ryme is a borrowed word frō the Greeks by the Latines and French, from them by vs Saxon angles and by abusion as hath bene sayd, and therefore it shall not do amisse to tell what this rithmos was with the Greekes, for what is it with vs hath bene already sayd. There is an accōptable number which we call arithmeticall (arithmos) as one, two, three. There is also a musi­call [Page 64] or audible number, fashioned by stirring of tunes & their sun­dry times in the vtterance of our wordes, as when the voice goeth high or low, or sharpe or flat, or swift or slow: & this is called rith­mos or numerositie, that is to say, a certaine flowing vtteraunce by slipper words and sillables such as the toung easily vtters, and the eare with pleasure receiueth, and which flowing of wordes with much volubilitie smoothly proceeding from the mouth is in some sort harmonicall and breedeth to th'eare a great compassion. This point grew by the smooth and delicate running of their feete, which we haue not in our vulgare, though we vse as much as may be the most flowing words & slippery sillables, that we can picke out: yet do not we call that by the name of ryme, as the Greekes did: but do giue the name of ryme onely to our concordes, or tunable consentes in the latter end of our verses, and which con­cordes the Greekes nor Latines neuer vsed in their Poesie till by the barbarous souldiers out of the campe, it was brought into the Court and thence to the schoole, as hath bene before remembred: and yet the Greekes and Latines both vsed a maner of speach, by clauses of like termination, which they called [...], and was the nearest that they approched to our ryme: but is not our right concord: so as we in abusing this terme (ryme) be neuerthelesse ex­cusable applying it to another point in Poesie no lesse curious then their rithme or numerositie which in deede passed the whole verse throughout, whereas our concordes keepe but the latter end of euery verse, or perchaunce the middle and the end in meetres that be long.

CHAP. VI.

NOwe because we haue spoken of accent, time and stirre or motion in wordes, we will set you downe more at large what they be. The auncient Greekes and Latines by reason their speech fell out originally to be fashioned with words of many sil­lables for the most part, it was of necessity that they could not vt­ter euery sillable with one like and egall sounde, nor in like space of time, nor with like motion or agility: but that one must be more suddenly and quickely forsaken, or longer pawsed vpon [Page 65] then another: or sounded with a higher note & clearer voyce then another, and of necessitie this diuersitie of sound, must fall either vpon the last sillable, or vpon the last saue one, or vpon the third and could not reach higher to make any notable difference, it cau­sed them to giue vnto three different sounds, three seuerall names: to that which was highest lift vp and most eleuate or shrillest in the eare, they gaue the name of the sharpe accent, to the lowest and most base because it seemed to fall downe rather then to rise vp, they gaue the name of the heauy accent, and that other which see­med in part to lift vp and in part to fall downe, they called the cir­cumflex, or compast accent: and if new termes were not odious, we might very properly call him the (windabout) for so is the Greek word. Thē bycause euery thing that by nature fals down is said heauy, & whatsoeuer naturally mounts vpward is said light, it gaue occasiō to say that there were diuersities in the motion of the voice, as swift & slow, which motiō also presupposes time, bycause time is mensura motus, by the Philosopher: so haue you the causes of their primitiue inuention and vse in our arte of Poesie, all this by good obseruatiō we may perceiue in our vulgar wordes if they be of mo sillables thē one, but specially if they be trissillables, as for example in these wordes [altitude] and [heauinesse] the sharpe ac­cent falles vpō [al] & [he] which be the antepenultimaes: the other two fall away speedily as if they were scarse sounded in this trissi­lable [forsaken] the sharp accent fals vpō [sa] which is the penul­tima, and in the other two is heauie and obscure. Againe in these bissillables, endúre, vnsúre, demúre: aspíre, desíre, retíre, your sharpe accent falles vpon the last sillable: but in words monosillable which be for the more part our naturall Saxon English, the accent is in­different, and may be vsed for sharp or flat and heauy at our plea­sure. I say Saxon English, for our Normane English alloweth vs very many bissillables, and also trissillables as, reuerence, diligence, amorous, desirous, and such like.

CHAP. VII.

AS the smoothnesse of your words and sillables running vpon feete of sundrie quantities, make with the Greekes and La­tines [Page 66] the body of their verses numerous or Rithmicall, so in our vulgar Poesie, and of all other nations at this day, your verses an­swering eche other by couples, or at larger distances in good [ca­dence] is it that maketh your meeter symphonicall. This cadence is the fal of a verse in euery last word with a certaine tunable sound which being matched with another of like sound, do make a [con­cord.] And the whole cadence is contained sometime in one silla­ble, sometime in two, or in three at the most: for aboue the ante­penultima there reacheth no accent (which is chiefe cause of the ca­dence) vnlesse it be by vsurpatiō in some English words, to which we giue a sharpe accent vpon the fourth as, Hónorable, mátrimo­nie, pátrimonie, míserable, and such other as would neither make a sweete cadence, nor easily find any word of like quantitie to match them. And the accented sillable with all the rest vnder him make the cadence, and no sillable aboue, as in these words, Agíllitie, fa­cíllitie, subiéction, diréction, and these bissilables, Ténder, slénder, trústie, lústie, but alwayes the cadence which falleth vpon the last sillable of a verse is sweetest and most commendable: that vpon the penultima more light, and not so pleasant: but falling vpon the antepenultima is most vnpleasant of all, because they make your meeter too light and triuiall, and are fitter for the Epigrammatist or Comicall Poet then for the Lyrick and Elegiack, which are ac­compted the sweeter Musickes. But though we haue sayd that (to make good concord) your seuerall verses should haue their caden­ces like, yet must there be some difference in their orthographie, though not in their sound, as if one cadence be [constraíne] the next [restraíne] or one [aspíre] another [respíre] this maketh no good concord, because they are all one, but if ye will exchange both these consonants of the accented sillable, or voyde but one of them away, then will your cadences be good and your concord to, as to say, restraine, refraine, remaine: aspire, desire, retire: which rule neuerthelesse is not well obserued by many makers for lacke of good iudgement and a delicate eare. And this may suffise to shew the vse and nature of your cadences, which are in effect all the sweetnesse and cunning in our vulgar Poesie.

CHAP. VIII.

NOw there can not be in a maker a fowler fault, then to falsifie his accent to serue his cadence, or by vntrue orthographie to wrench his words to helpe his rime, for it is a signe that such a ma­ker it not copious in his owne language, or (as they are wont to say) not halfe his crafts maister: as for example, if one should rime to this word [Restore] he may not match him with [Doore] or [Poore] for neither of both are of like terminant, either by good orthography or in naturall sound, therfore such rime is strained, so is it to this word [Ram] to say [came] or to [Beane [Den] for they sound not nor be written a like, & many other like cadences which were superfluous to recite, and are vsuall with rude rimers who obserue not precisely the rules of [prosodie] neuerthelesse in all such cases (if necessitie constrained) it is somewhat more tolle­rable to help the rime by false orthographie, then to leaue an vn­plesant dissonance to the eare, by keeping trewe orthographie and loosing the rime, as for example it is better to rime [Dore] with [Restore] then in his truer orthographie, which is [Doore] and to this word [Desire] to say [Fier] then fyre though it be other­wise better written fire. For since the cheife grace of our vulgar Poesie consisteth in the Symphonie, as hath bene already sayd, our maker must not be too licentious in his concords, but see that they go euen, iust and melodious in the eare, and right so in the nume­rositie or currantnesse of the whole body of his verse, and in euery other of his proportions. For a licentious maker is in truth but a bungler and not a Poet. Such men were in effect the most part of all your old rimers and specially Gower, who to make vp his rime would for the most part write his terminant sillable with false or­thographie, and many times not sticke to put in a plaine French word for an English, & so by your leaue do many of our common rimers at this day: as he that by all likelyhood, hauing no word at hand to rime to this word [ioy] he made his other verse ende in [Roy] saying very impudently thus,

Which word was neuer yet receiued in our lāguage for an English word. Such extreme licentiousnesse is vtterly to be banished from our schoole, and better it might haue bene borne with in old ri­ming writers, bycause they liued in a barbarous age, & were graue morall men but very homely Poets, such also as made most of their workes by translation out of the Latine and French toung, & few or none of their owne engine as may easely be knowen to them that list to looke vpon the Poemes of both languages.

Finally as ye may ryme with wordes of all sortes, be they of ma­ny sillables or few, so neuerthelesse is there a choise by which to make your cadence (before remembred) most commendable, for some wordes of exceeding great length, which haue bene fetched from the Latine inkhorne or borrowed of strangers, the vse of them in ryme is nothing pleasant, sauing perchaunce to the com­mon people, who reioyse much to be at playes and enterludes, and besides their naturall ignoraunce, haue at all such times their eares so attentiue to the matter, and their eyes vpon the shewes of the stage, that they take little heede to the cunning of the rime, and therefore be as well satisfied with that which is grosse, as with any other finer and more delicate.

CHAP. IX.

BVt this ye must obserue withall, that bycause your concordes containe the chief part of Musicke in your meetre, their di­staunces may not be too wide or farre a sunder, lest th'eare should loose the tune, and be defrauded of his delight, and whensoeuer ye see any maker vse large and extraordinary distaunces, ye must thinke he doth intende to shew himselfe more artificiall then po­pular, and yet therein is not to be discommended, for respects that shalbe remembred in some other place of this booke.

Note also that rime or concorde is not commendably vsed both in the end and middle of a verse, vnlesse it be in toyes and trifling Poesies, for it sheweth a certaine lightnesse either of the matter or of the makers head, albeit these common rimers vse it much, for [Page 69] as I sayd before, like as the Symphonie in a verse of great length, is (as it were) lost by looking after him, and yet may the meetre be very graue and stately: so on the other side doth the ouer busie and too speedy returne of one maner of tune, too much annoy & as it were glut the eare, vnlesse it be in small & popular Musickes song by these Cantabanqui vpon benches and barrels heads where they haue none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes that passe by them in the streete, or else by blind harpers or such like tauerne minstrels that giue a fit of mirth for a groat, & their mat­ters being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes of Beuis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough & such other old Romances or historicall rimes, made purposely for recreation of the cōmon people at Christmasse diners & brideales, and in tauernes & ale­houses and such other places of base resort, also they be vsed in Carols and rounds and such light or lasciuious Poemes, which are commonly more commodiously vttered by these buffons or vices in playes then by any other person. Such were the rimes of Skel­ton (vsurping the name of a Poet Laureat) being in deede but a rude rayling rimer & all his doings ridiculous, he vsed both short distaunces and short measures pleasing onely the popular eare: in our courtly maker we banish them vtterly. Now also haue ye in euery song or ditty concorde by compasse & concorde entertan­gled and a mixt of both, what that is and how they be vsed shal­be declared in the chapter of proportion by scituation.

CHAP. X.

THis proportion consisteth in placing of euery verse in a staffe or ditty by such reasonable distaunces, as may best serue the eare for delight, and also to shew the Poets art and variety of Mu­sick, and the proportion is double. One by marshalling the mee­tres, and limiting their distaunces hauing regard to the rime or concorde how they go and returne: another by placing euery verse, hauing a regard to his measure and quantitie onely, and not to his concorde as to set one short meetre to three long, or foure short and two long, or a short measure and a long, or of diuers [Page 70] lengthes with relation one to another, which maner of Situation, euen without respect of the rime, doth alter the nature of the Poe­sie, and make it either lighter or grauer, or more merry, or mourn­full, and many wayes passionate to the eare and hart of the hea­rer, seeming for this point that our maker by his measures and concordes of sundry proportions doth counterfeit the harmoni­call tunes of the vocall and instrumentall Musickes. As the Do­rien because his falls, sallyes and compasse be diuers from those of the Phrigien, the Phrigien likewise from the Lydien, and all three from the Eolien, Miolidien and Ionien, mounting and falling from note to note such as be to them peculiar, and with more or lesse leasure or precipation. Euen so by diuersitie of placing and scitua­tion of your measures and concords, a short with a long, and by narrow or wide distances, or thicker or thinner bestowing of them your proportions differ, and breedeth a variable and strange har­monie not onely in the eare, but also in the conceit of them that heare it: whereof this may be an ocular example.

• Scituation in
  • Concord
  • Measure

Where ye see the concord or rime in the third distance, and the measure in the fourth, sixth or second distaunces, whereof ye may deuise as many other as ye list, so the staffe be able to beare it. And I set you downe an occular example: because ye may the better conceiue it. Likewise it so falleth out most times your occular proportion doeth declare the nature of the audible: for if it please the eare well, the same represented by delineation to the view pleaseth the eye well and è conuerso: and this is by a naturall simpathie, betweene the eare and the eye, and betweene tunes & co­lours, euen as there is the like betweene the other sences and their obiects of which it apperteineth not here to speake. Now for the distances vsually obserued in our vulgar Poesie, they be in the first second third and fourth verse, or if the verse be very short in the fift and sixt and in some maner of Musickes farre aboue.

And the first distance for the most part goeth all by distick or couples of verses agreeing in one cadence, and do passe so speedily [Page 71] away and so often returne agayne, as their tunes are neuer lost, nor out of the eare, one couple supplying another so nye and so sud­denly, and this is the most vulgar proportion of distance or situa­tion, such as vsed Chaucer in his Canterbury tales, and

[figure]

Govver in all his workes.

Second distance is, when ye passe ouer one verse, and ioyne the first and the third, and so continue on till an other like

[figure]

distance fall in, and this is also vsuall and common, as

Third distaunce is, when your rime falleth vpon the first and fourth verse ouerleaping two, this maner is not so com­mon

[figure]

but pleasant and allowable inough.

In which case the two verses ye leaue out are ready to receiue their concordes by the same distaunce or any other ye like better. The fourth distaunce is by ouerskipping three verses and ligh­ting vpon the fift, this maner is rare and more artificiall then po­pular, vnlesse it be in some speciall case, as when

[figure]

the meetres be so little and short as they make no shew of any great delay before they returne, ye shall haue example of both.

And these ten litle meeters make but one Exameter at length.

—, —, —, —, —, —, —, —, —, —,

There be larger distances also, as when the first

[figure]

concord falleth vpō the sixt verse, & is very pleasant if they be ioyned with other distances not so large, as

There be also, of the seuenth, eight, tenth, and twefth distance, but then they may not go thicke, but two or

[figure]

three such distāces serue to proportiō a whole song, and all betweene must be of other lesse distances, and these wide distaunces serue for coupling of staues, or for to declare high and passionate or graue matter, and also for art: Pe­trarch hath giuen vs examples hereof in his Canzoni, and we by lines of sundry lengths & and distances as followeth,

And all that can be obiected against this wide distance is to say that the eare by loosing his concord is not satisfied. So is in deede the rude and popular eare but not the learned, and therefore the [Page 72] Poet must know to whose eare he maketh his rime, and accom­modate himselfe thereto, and not giue such musicke to the rude and barbarous, as he would to the learned and delicate eare.

There is another sort of proportion vsed by Petrarche called the Seizino, not riming as other songs do, but by chusing sixe wordes out of which all the whole dittie is made, euery of

[figure]

those sixe commencing and ending his verse by course, which restraint to make the dittie sensible will try the makers cunning, as thus.

Besides all this there is in Situation of the concords two other points one that it go by plaine and cleere compasse not intangled: another by enterweauing one with another by knots, or as it were by band, which is more or lesse busie and curious, all as the maker will double or redouble his rime or concords, and set his distances farre or nigh, of all which I will giue you ocular examples, as thus.

• Concord in
  • Plaine compass
  • Entertangle.

And first in a Quadreine there are but two proportions,

[figure]

for foure verses in this last sort coupled, are but two Disticks, and not a staffe qua­dreine or of foure.

The staffe of fiue hath seuen proportions as,

[figure]

whereof some of them be harsher and vnpleasaunter to the eare then other some be.

The Sixaine or staffe of sixe hath ten proportions, wherof some be vsuall, some not vsuall, and not so sweet one as another.

[figure]

The staffe of seuen verses hath seuen proportions, whereof one onely is the vsuall of our vulgar, and kept by our old Poets Chau­cer and other in their historicall reports and other ditties: as in the last part of them that follow next.

[figure]

[Page 73]The huitain or staffe of eight verses, hath eight proportions such as the former staffe, and because he is longer, he hath one more then the settaine.

The staffe of nine verses hath yet moe then the eight, and the staffe often more then the ninth and the twelfth, if such were allowable in ditties, more then any of them all, by reason of his largenesse re­ceiuing moe compasses and enterweauings, alwayes considered that the very large distances be more artificiall, then popularly pleasant, and yet do giue great grace and grauitie, and moue pas­sion and affections more vehemently, as it is well to be obserued by Petrarcha his Canzoni.

Now ye may perceiue by these proportions before described, that there is a band to be giuen euery verse in a staffe, so as none fall out alone or vncoupled, and this band maketh that the staffe is sayd fast and not loose: euen as ye see in buildings of stone or bricke the mason giueth a band, that is a length to two breadths, & vpon necessitie diuers other sorts of bands to hold in the worke fast and maintaine the perpendicularitie of the wall: so in any staffe of seuen or eight or more verses, the coupling of the moe meeters by rime or concord, is the faster band: the fewer the loo­ser band, and therfore in a huiteine he that putteth foure verses in one concord and foure in another concord, and in a dizaine fiue, sheweth him selfe more cunning, and also more copious in his owne language. For he that can find two words of concord, can not find foure or fiue or sixe, vnlesse he haue his owne language at will. Sometime also ye are driuen of necessitie to close and make band more then ye would, lest otherwise the staffe should fall asunder and seeme two staues: and this is in a staffe of eight and ten verses: whereas without a band in the middle, it would seeme two quàdriens or two quintaines, which is an error that many ma­kers slide away with. Yet Chaucer and others in the staffe of se­uen and sixe do almost as much a misse, for they shut vp the staffe with a disticke, concording with none other verse that went be­fore, and maketh but a loose rime, and yet bycause of the double cadence in the last two verses serue the eare well inough. And as there is in euery staffe, band, giuen to the verses by concord more or lesse busie: so is there in some cases a band giuen to euery staffe, [Page 74] and that is by one whole verse running alone throughout the ditty or ballade, either in the middle or end of euery staffe. The Greekes called such vncoupled verse Epimonie, the Latines Versus interca­laris. Now touching the situation of measures, there are as manie or more proportions of them which I referre to the makers phan­tasie and choise, contented with two or three ocular examples and no moe.

[figure]

Which maner of proportion by situatiō of measures giueth more efficacie to the matter oftentimes then the concords them selues, and both proportions concurring together as they needes must, it is of much more beautie and force to the hearers mind.

To finish the learning of this diuision, I will set you downe one example of a dittie written extempore with this deuise, shewing not onely much promptnesse of wit in the maker, but also great arte and a notable memorie. Make me saith this writer to one of the companie, so many strokes or lines with your pen as ye would haue your song containe verses: and let euery line beare his seuerall length, euen as ye would haue your verse of measure. Suppose of foure, fiue, sixe or eight or more sillables, and set a figure of euerie number at th'end of the line, whereby ye may knowe his measure. Then where you will haue your rime or concord to fall, marke it with a compast stroke or semicircle passing ouer those lines, be they farre or neare in distance, as ye haue seene before described. And bycause ye shall not thinke the maker hath premeditated be­forehand any such fashioned ditty, do ye your selfe make one verse whether it be of perfect or imperfect sense, and giue it him for a theame to make all the rest vpon: if ye shall perceiue the maker do keepe the measures and rime as ye haue appointed him, and be­sides do make his dittie sensible and ensuant to the first verse in good reason, then may ye say he is his crafts maister. For if he were not of a plentiful discourse, he could not vpon the sudden shape an entire dittie vpon your imperfect theame or proposition in one [Page 75] verse. And if he were not copious in his language, he could not haue such store of wordes at commaundement, as should supply your concords. And if he were not of a maruelous good memory he could not obserue the rime and measures after the distances of your limitation, keeping with all grauitie and good sense in the whole dittie.

CHAP. XI.

YOur last proportion is that of figure, so called for that it yelds an ocular representation, your meeters being by good sym­metrie reduced into certaine Geometricall figures, whereby the maker is restrained to keepe him within his bounds, and sheweth not onely more art, but serueth also much better for briefenesse and subtiltie of deuice. And for the same respect are also fittest for the pretie amourets in Court to entertaine their seruants and the time withall, their delicate wits requiring some commendable ex­ercise to keepe them from idlenesse. I find not of this proportion vsed by any of the Greeke or Latine Poets, or in any vulgar writer, sauing of that one forme which they cal Anacreens egge. But being in Italie conuersant with a certaine gentleman, who had long tra­uailed the Orientall parts of the world, and seene the Courts of the great Princes of China and Tartarie. I being very inquisitiue to know of the subtillities of those countreyes, and especially in matter of learning and of their vulgar Poesie, he told me that they are in all their inuentions most wittie, and haue the vse of Poesie or riming, but do not delight so much as we do in long tedious de­scriptions, and therefore when they will vtter any pretie conceit, they reduce it into metricall feet, and put it in forme of a Lozange or square, or such other figure, and so engrauen in gold, siluer or iuorie, and sometimes with letters of ametist, rubie, emeralde or topas curiousely cemented and peeced together, they sende them in chaines, bracelets, collars and girdles to their mistresses to weare for a remembrance. Some fewe measures composed in this sort this gentleman gaue me, which I translated word for word and as neere as I could followed both the phrase and the figure, which is somewhat hard to performe, because of the restraint of the figure from which ye may not digresse. At the beginning they wil seeme [Page 76] nothing pleasant to an English eare, but time and vsage wil make them acceptable inough, as it doth in all other new guises, be it for wearing of apparell or otherwise. The formes of your Geometri­call figures be hereunder represented.

CHAP. XII.

NOw neuerthelesse albeit we haue before alledged that our vulgar Saxon English, standing most vpon wordes monosilla­ble, and little vpon polysillables doth hardly admit the vse of those [Page 86] fine inuented feete of the Greeks & Latines, and that for the most part wise and graue men doe naturally mislike with all sodaine in­nouations specially of lawes (and this the law of our auncient En­glish Poesie) and therefore lately before we imputed it to a nice & scholasticall curiositie in such makers as haue sought to bring into our vulgar Poesie some of the auncient feete, to wit the Dactile in­to verses exameters, as he that translated certaine bookes of Ʋirgils Eneydos in such measures & not vncommendably: if I should now say otherwise it would make me seeme contradictorie to my selfe, yet for the information of our yong makers, and pleasure of all o­thers who be delighted in noueltie, and to th'intent we may not seeme by ignorance or ouersight to omit any point of subtillitie, materiall or necessarie to our vulgar arte, we will in this present chapter & by our own idle obseruations shew how one may easi­ly and commodiously lead all those feete of the auncients into our vulgar langage. And if mens eares were not perchaunce to dain­tie, or their iudgementes ouer partiall, would peraduenture no­thing at all misbecome our arte, but make in our meetres a more pleasant numerositie then now is. Thus farre therefore we will aduenture and not beyond, to th'intent to shew some singulari­tie in our arte that euery man hath not heretofore obserued, and (her maiesty good liking always had) whether we make the com­mon readers to laugh or to lowre, all is a matter, since our intent is not so exactlie to prosecute the purpose, nor so earnestly, as to thinke it should by authority of our owne iudgement be general­ly applauded at to the discredit of our forefathers maner of vul­gar Poesie, or to the alteration or peraduenture totall destruction of the same, which could not stand with any good discretion or curtesie in vs to attempt, but thus much I say, that by some leasu­rable trauell it were no hard matter to induce all their auncient feete into vse with vs, and that it should proue very agreable to the eare and well according with our ordinary times and pronuncia­tion, which no man could then iustly mislike, and that is to allow euery word polisillable one long time of necessitie, which should be where his sharpe accent falls in our owne ydiome most aptly and naturally, wherein we would not follow the licence of the Greeks and Latines, who made not their sharpe accent any necessary pro­longation [Page 87] of their times, but vsed such sillable sometimes long sometimes short at their pleasure. The other sillables of any word where the sharpe accent fell not, to be accompted of such time and quantitie as his ortographie would best beare hauing regard to himselfe, or to his next neighbour, word, bounding him on either side, namely to the smoothnes & hardnesse of the sillable in his vt­terance, which is occasioned altogether by his ortographie & sci­tuation as in this word [dáyly] the first sillable for his vsuall and sharpe accentes sake to be alwayes long, the second for his flat accents sake to be alwayes short, and the rather for his ortographie, bycause if he goe before another word commencing with a vowell not letting him to be eclipsed, his vtterance is easie & currant, in this trissillable [daūngĕrŏus] the first to be long, th'o­ther two short for the same causes. In this word [dāngĕroŭsnēsse] the first & last to be both long, bycause they receiue both of them the sharpe accent, and the two middlemost to be short, in these words [remedie] & [remedilesse] the time to follow also the accent, so as if it please better to set the sharpe accent vpō [re] then vpon [dye] that sillable should be made long and èconuerso, but in this word [remedilesse] bycause many like better to accent the sillable [me] thē the sillable [les] therfore I leaue him for a cōmon sillable to be able to receiue both a long and a short time as occasion shall serue. The like law I set in these wordes [reuocable] [recouerable] [irreuocable] [irrecouerable] for sometime it sounds better to say reuŏ cāblĕ then rĕ uōcăblĕ, rēcŏuĕr āblĕ thē rĕcōuĕr ăblĕ for this one thing ye must alwayes marke that if your time fall either by reason of his sharpe accēt or otherwise vpon the penultima, ye shal finde many other words to rime with him, bycause such termina­tiōs are not geazon, but if the lōg time fall vpō the antepenultima ye shall not finde many wordes to match him in his termination, which is the cause of his concord or rime, but if you would let your long time by his sharpe accent fall aboue the antepenultima as to say [cōuĕrăblĕ] ye shall seldome or perchance neuer find one to make vp rime with him vnlesse it be badly and by abuse, and therefore in all such long polisillables ye doe commonly giue two sharpe accents, and thereby reduce him into two feete as in this word [rēmŭ nĕrātĭŏn] which makes a couple of good Dactils, and [Page 88] in this word [contribūtĭŏn] which makes a good spōdeus & a good dactill, and in this word [recāpĭtŭlātĭŏn] it makes two dactills and a sillable ouerplus to annexe to the word precedent to helpe peece vp another foote. But for wordes monosillables (as be most of ours) because in pronouncing them they do of necessitie retaine a sharpe accent, ye may iustly allow them to be all long if they will so best serue your turne, and if they be tailed one to another, or th'one to a dissillable or polyssillable ye ought to allow them that time that best serues your purpose and pleaseth your eare most, and truliest aunsweres the nature of the ortographie in which I would as neare as I could obserue and keepe the lawes of the Greeke and Latine versifiers, that is to prolong the sillable which is written with dou­ble consonants or by dipthong or with single consonants that run hard and harshly vpon the toung: and to shorten all sillables that stand vpon vowels, if there were no cause of elision and single con­sonants & such of them as are most flowing and flipper vpon the toung as. n.r.t.d.l. and for this purpose to take away all aspirations, and many times the last consonant of a word as the Latine Poetes vsed to do, specially Lucretius and Ennius as to say [finibu] for [fi­nibus] and so would not I stick to say thus [delite] for [delight] [hye] for [high] and such like, & doth nothing at all impugne the rule I gaue before against the wresting of wordes by false ortogra­phie to make vp rime, which may not be falsified. But this omissi­on of letters in the middest of a meetre to make him the more slipper, helpes the numerositie and hinders not the rime. But gene­rally the shortning or prolonging of the monosillables dependes much vpō the nature of their ortographie which the Latin Gram­mariens call the rule of position, as for example if I shall say thus.

Twentie dayes after, This makes a good Dactill and a good spondeus, but if ye turne them backward it would not do so, as.

And the distick made all of monosillables.

Which words serue well to make the verse all spondiacke or iam­bicke, but not in dactil, as other words or the same otherwise pla­ced [Page 89] would do, for it were an illfauored dactil to say.

Therefore whensoeuer your words will not make a smooth da­ctil, ye must alter them or their situations, or else turne them to o­ther feete that may better beare their maner of sound and ortho­graphie: or if the word be polysillable to deuide him, and to make him serue by peeces, that he could not do whole and entierly. And no doubt by like consideration did the Greeke & Latine versifiers fashion all their feete at the first to be of sundry times, and the selfe same sillable to be sometime long and sometime short for the eares better satisfaction as hath bene before remēbred. Now also wheras I said before that our old Saxon English for his many monosillables did not naturally admit the vse of the ancient feete in our vulgar measures so aptly as in those languages which stood most vpon polisillables, I sayd it in a sort truly, but now I must recant and con­fesse that our Normane English which hath growen since William the Conquerour doth admit any of the auncient feete, by rea­son of the many polysillables euen to sixe and seauen in one word, which we at this day vse in our most ordinarie language: and which corruption hath bene occasioned chiefly by the peeuish af­fectation not of the Normans them selues, but of clerks and scho­lers or secretaries long since, who not content with the vsual Nor­mane or Saxon word, would conuert the very Latine and Greeke word into vulgar French, as to say innumerable for innombrable, reuocable, irreuocable, irradiation, depopulatiō & such like, which are not naturall Normans nor yet French, but altered Latines, and without any imitation at all: which therefore were long time de­spised for inkehorne termes and now be reputed the best & most delicat of any other. Of which & many other causes of corruption of our speach we haue in another place more amply discoursed, but by this meane we may at this day very well receiue the aunci­ent feete metricall of the Greeks and Latines sauing those that be superflous as be all the feete aboue the trissillable, which the old Grammarians idly inuented and distinguisht by speciall names, whereas in deede the same do stand compounded with the inferi­our feete, and therefore some of them were called by the names of didactilus, dispondeus and disiambus: all which feete as I say we may [Page 90] be allowed to vse with good discretion & precise choise of wordes and with the fauorable approbation of readers, and so shall our plat in this one point be larger and much surmount that which Stamhurst first tooke in hand by his exameters dactilicke and spon­daicke in the translation of Virgills Eneidos, and such as for a great number of them my stomacke can hardly digest for the ill shapen sound of many of his wordes polisillable and also his copulation of monosillables supplying the quantitie of a trissillable to his intent. And right so in promoting this deuise of ours being (I feare me) much more nyce and affected, and therefore more misliked then his, we are to bespeake fauour, first of the delicate eares, then of the rigorous and seuere dispositions, lastly to craue pardon of the learned & auncient makers in our vulgar, for if we should seeke in euery point to egall our speach with the Greeke and Latin in their metricall obseruations it could not possible be by vs perfourmed, because their sillables came to be timed some of them long, some of them short not by reason of any euident or apparant cause in writing or sounde remaining vpon one more then another, for many times they shortned the sillable of sharpe accent and made long that of the flat, & therefore we must needes say, it was in ma­ny of their wordes done by preelection in the first Poetes, not ha­uing regard altogether to the ortographie, and hardnesse or soft­nesse of a sillable, consonant, vowell or dipthong, but at their plea­sure, or as it fell out: so as he that first put in a verse this word [Pe­nelope] which might be Homer or some other of his antiquitie, where he made [pē] in both places long and [nĕ] and [lŏ] short, he might haue made them otherwise and with as good reason, no­thing in the world appearing that might moue them to make such (preelection) more in th'one sillable then in the other for pe. ne. and lo. being sillables vocals be egally smoth and currant vpon the toung, and might beare aswel the long as the short time, but it pleased the Poet otherwise: so he that first shortned, ca. in this word cano, and made long tro, in troia, and o, in oris, might haue aswell done the contrary, but because he that first put them into a verse, found as it is to be supposed a more sweetnesse in his owne eare to haue them so tymed, therefore all other Poets who followed, were fayne to doe the like, which made that Virgill who came many [Page 91] yeares after the first reception of wordes in their seuerall times, was driuen of necessiitie to accept them in such quantities as they were left him and therefore said.

Neither truely doe I see any other reason in that lawe (though in other rules of shortning and prolonging a sillable there may be reason) but that it stands vpon bare tradition. Such as the Cabalists auouch in their mysticall constructions Theologicall and others, saying that they receaued the same from hand to hand from the first parent Adam, Abraham and others, which I will giue them leaue alone both to say and beleeue for me, thinking rather that they haue bene the idle occupations, or perchaunce the malitious and craftie constructions of the Talmudists, and others of the He­brue clerks to bring the world into admiration of their lawes and Religion. Now peraduenture with vs Englishmen it be some­what too late to admit a new inuention of feete and times that our forefathers neuer vsed nor neuer obserued till this day, either in their measures or in their pronuntiation, and perchaunce will seeme in vs a presumptuous part to attempt, considering also it would be hard to find many men to like of one mans choise in the limitation of times and quantities of words, with which not one, but euery eare is to be pleased and made a particular iudge, being most truly sayd, that a multitude or comminaltie is hard to please and easie to offend, and therefore I intend not to proceed any fur­ther in this curiositie then to shew some small subtillitie that any other hath not yet done, and not by imitation but by obseruation, nor to th'intent to haue it put in execution in our vulgar Poesie, but to be pleasantly scanned vpon, as are all nouelties so friuolous and ridiculous as it.

CHAP. XIII.

THeir Grammarians made a great multitude of feete, I wot not to what huge number, and of so many sizes as their wordes [Page 92] were of length, namely sixe sizes, whereas in deede, the metricall feete are but twelue in number, wherof foure only be of two times, and eight of three times, the rest compounds of the premised two sorts, euen as the Arithmeticall numbers aboue three are made of two and three. And if ye will know how many of these feete will be commodiously receiued with vs, I say all the whole twelue, for first for the foote spondeus of two long times ye haue these English wordes mōrnīng, mīdnīght, mīschāunce, and a number moe whose or­tographie may direct your iudgement in this point: for your Trocheus of a long and short ye haue these wordes mānĕr, brōkĕn, tākĕn, bōdiĕ, mēmbĕr, and a great many moe if their last sillables a­but not vpon the consonant in the beginning of another word, and in these whether they do abut or no wīttĭe, dīttĭe, sōrrŏw, mōr­rŏw, & such like, which end in a vowell for your Iambus of a short and a long, ye haue these wordes [rĕstōre] [rĕmōrse] [dĕsīre] [ĕn­dūre] and a thousand besides. For your foote pirrichius or of two short silables ye haue these words [mănĭe] [mŏnĕy] [pĕnĭe] [sĭliĕ] and others of that constitution or the like: for your feete of three times and first your dactill, ye haue these wordes & a number moe pātĭĕnce, tēmpĕrănce, vvōmănheăd, iōlĭtĭe, daungĕrŏus, dūetĭfŭll & o­thers. For your molossus, of all three long, ye haue a member of wordes also and specially most of your participles actiue, as pērsī­stīng, dĕspōilīng, ēndēntīng, and such like in ortographie: for your a­napestus of two short and a long ye haue these words but not many moe, as mănĭfōld, mŏnĭlēsse, rĕmănēnt, hŏlĭnēsse. For your foote tri­bracchus of all three short, ye haue very few trissillables, because the sharpe accent will always make one of them long by pronun­ciation, which els would be by ortographie short as, [mĕrĭly] [mi­nion] & such like. For your foote bacchius of a short & two long ye haue these and the like words trissillables [lămēntīng] [rĕquēstīng] [rĕnoūncīng] [rĕpēntānce] [ĕnūrīng]. For your foote antibacchius, of two long and a short ye haue these wordes [fōrsākĕn] [īmpūg­nĕd] and others many: For your amphimacer that is a long a short and a long ye haue these wordes and many moe [éxcellént] [īmĭ­nēnt] and specially such as be propre names of persons or townes or other things and namely Welsh wordes: for your foote amphi­bracchus, of a short, a long and a short, ye haue these wordes and [Page 101] many like to these [rĕsīstĕd] [dĕlīghtfŭll] [rĕprīsăll] [ĭnăuntĕr] [ĕnāmĭll] so as for want of English wordes if your eare be not to daintie and your rules to precise, ye neede not be without the metricall feete of the ancient Poets such as be most pertinent and not superfluous. This is (ye will perchaunce say) my singular opinion: then ye shall see how well I can maintaine it. First the quantitie of a word comes either by (preelection) with­out reason or force as hath bene alledged, and as the auncient Greekes and Latines did in many wordes, but not in all, or by (ele­ction) with reason as they did in some, and not a few. And a sound is drawen at length either by the infirmitie of the toung, because the word or sillable is of such letters as hangs long in the palate or lippes ere he will come forth, or because he is accented and tuned hier and sharper then another, whereby he somewhat obscureth the other sillables in the same word that be not accented so high, in both these cases we will establish our sillable long, contrariwise the shortning of a sillable is, when his sounde or accent happens to be heauy and flat, that is to fall away speedily, and as it were inau­dible, or when he is made of such letters as be by nature slipper & voluble and smoothly passe from the mouth. And the vowell is alwayes more easily deliuered then the consonant: and of conso­nants, the liquide more then the mute, & a single consonant more then a double, and one more then twayne coupled together: all which points were obserued by the Greekes and Latines, and al­lowed for maximes in versifying. Now if ye will examine these foure bissillables [rēmnānt] [rĕmāine] [rēnder] [rĕnĕt] for an ex­ample by which ye may make a generall rule, and ye shall finde, that they aunswere our first resolution. First in [remnant] [rem] bearing the sharpe accent and hauing his consonant abbut vpon another, soundes long. The sillable [nant] being written with two cōsonants must needs be accompted the same besides that [nant] by his Latin originall is lōg, viz. [remanēns.] Take this word [re­maine] because the last sillable beares the sharpe accent, he is long in the eare, and [re] being the first sillable, passing obscurely away with a flat accent is short, besides that [re] by his Latine originall and also by his ortographie is short. This word [render] bearing the sharpe accēt vpon [ren] makes it long, the sillable [der] falling [Page 102] away swiftly & being also writtē with a single cōsonant or liquide is short and makes the trocheus. This word [rĕnēt] hauing both sil­lables sliding and slipper make the foote Pirrichius, because if he be truly vttered he beares in maner no sharper accent vpō the one then the other sillable, but be in effect egall in time and tune, as is also the Spondeus. And because they be not written with any hard or harsh consonants, I do allow them both for short sillables, or to be vsed for common, according as their situation and place with other words shall be: and as I haue named to you but onely foure words for an example, so may ye find out by diligent obseruation foure hundred if ye will. But of all your words bissillables the most part naturally do make the foot Iambus, many the Trocheus, fewer the Spondeus, fewest of all the Pirrichius, because in him the sharpe accent (if ye follow the rules of your accent, as we haue presuppo­sed) doth make a litle oddes: and ye shall find verses made all of monosillables, and do very well, but lightly they be Iambickes, by­cause for the more part the accent falles sharpe vpon euery second word rather then contrariwise, as this of Sir Thomas Wiats.

And some verses where the sharpe accent falles vpon the first and third, and so make the verse wholly Trochaicke, as thus,

And some verses made of monosillables and bissillables enterlaced as this of th'Earles,

And this

And some verses made all of bissillables and others all of trissilla­bles, and others of polisillables egally increasing and of diuers quan­tities, and sundry situations, as in this of our owne, made to daunt the insolence of a beautifull woman.

In which ye haue your first verse all of bissillables and of the foot trocheus. The second all of monosillables, and all of the foote Iam­bus, the third all of trissillables, and all of the foote dactilus, your fourth of one bissillable, and two monosillables interlarded, the fift of one monosillable and two bissillables enterlaced, and the rest of other sortes and scituations, some by degrees encreasing, some di­minishing: which example I haue set downe to let you perceiue what pleasant numerosity in the measure and disposition of your words in a meetre may be contriued by curious wits & these with other like were the obseruations of the Greeke and Latine versi­fiers.

CHAP. XIIII.

YOur feete of three times by prescription of the Latine Gram­mariens are of eight sundry proportions, for some notable dif­ference appearing in euery sillable of three falling in a word of that size: but because aboue the antepenultima there was (amōg the La­tines) none accent audible in any long word, therfore to deuise any foote of lōger measure then of three times was to them but super­fluous: because all aboue the number of three are but compoun­ded of their inferiours. Omitting therefore to speake of these lar­ger feete, we say that of all your feete of three times the Dactill is most vsuall and fit for our vulgar meeter, & most agreeable to the eare, specially if ye ouerlade not your verse with too many of them but here and there enterlace a Iambus or some other foote of two times to giue him grauitie and stay, as in this quadrein Trimeter or of three measures.

Where ye see euery verse is all of a measure, and yet vnegall in number of sillables: for the second verse is but of sixe sillables, where the rest are of eight. But the reason is for that in three of the same verses are two Dactils a peece, which abridge two sillables in euery verse: and so maketh the longest euen with the shortest. Ye may note besides by the first verse, how much better some bissilla­ble becommeth to peece out an other longer foote then another word doth: for in place of [render] if ye had sayd [restore] it had marred the Dactil, and of necessitie driuen him out at length to be a verse Iambie of foure feet, because [render] is naturally a Trocheus & makes the first two times of a dactil. [Restore] is naturally a Iā ­bus, & in this place could not possibly haue made a pleasant dactil.

Now againe if ye will say to me that these two words [libertie] and [conquerours] be not precise Dactils by the Latine rule. So much will I confesse to, but since they go currant inough vpon the tongue and be so vsually pronounced, they may passe wel inough for Dactils in our vulgar meeters, & that is inough for me, seeking but to fashion an art, & not to finish it: which time only & custom haue authoritie to do, specially in all cases of language as the Poet hath wittily remembred in this verse

The Earle of Surrey vpon the death of Sir Thomas Wiat made among other this verse Pentameter and of ten sillables,

But if I had had the making of him, he should haue bene of ele­uen sillables and kept his measure of fiue still, and would so haue runne more pleasantly a great deale: for as he is now, though he be euen he seemes odde and defectiue, for not well obseruing the na­tural accent of euery word, and this would haue bene soone holpen by inserting one monosillable in the middle of the verse, and draw­ing another sillable in the beginning into a Dactil, this word [ho­ly] being a good [Pirrichius] & very well seruing the turne, thus,

Which verse if ye peruse throughout ye shall finde him after the first dactil all Trochaick & not Iambic, nor of any other foot of two [Page 105] times. But perchance if ye would seeme yet more curious, in place of these foure Trocheus ye might induce other feete of three times, as to make the three sillables next following the dactil, the foote [amphimacer] the last word [Sepulcher] the foote [amphibracus] leauing the other midle word for a [Iambus] thus.

If ye aske me further why I make [vvhat] first long & after short in one verse, to that I satisfied you before, that it is by reason of his accent sharpe in one place and flat in another, being a commō mo­nosillable, that is, apt to receiue either accent, & so in the first place receiuing aptly the sharpe accent he is made long: afterward recei­uing the flat accent more aptly thē the sharpe, because the sillable precedent [las] vtterly distaines him, he is made short & not long, & that with very good melodie, but to haue giuen him the sharpe accent & plucked it frō the sillable [las] it had bene to any mans eare a great discord: for euermore this word [alás] is accēted vpon the last, & that lowdly & notoriously as appeareth by all our ex­clamations vsed vnder that terme. The same Earle of Surrey & Sir Thomas Wyat the first reformers & polishers of our vulgar Poesie much affecting the stile and measures of the Italian Petrarcha, vsed the foote dactil very often but not many in one verse, as in these,

And many moe which if ye would not allow for dactils the verse would halt vnlesse ye would seeme to helpe it contracting a sillable by vertue of the figure Syneresis which I thinke was neuer their meaning, nor in deede would haue bred any pleasure to the eare, but hindred the flowing of the verse. Howsoeuer ye take it the dactil is commendable inough in our vulgar meetres, but most plausible of all when he is sounded vpon the stage, as in these comicall verses shewing how well it becommeth all noble men and great personages to be temperat and modest, yea more then any meaner man, thus.

And in this distiquetaxing the Prelate symoniake standing all vpon perfect dactils.

But this aduertisement I will giue you withall, that if ye vse too many dactils together ye make your musike too light and of no solemne grauitie such as the amorous Elegies in court naturally require, being alwaies either very dolefull or passionate as the af­fections of loue enforce, in which busines ye must make your choise of very few words dactilique, or them that ye can not refuse, to dissolue and breake them into other feete by such meanes as it shall be taught hereafter: but chiefly in your courtly ditties take heede ye vse not these maner of long polisillables and specially that ye finish not your verse with thē as [retribution] restitution] remu­neration [recapitulation] and such like: for they smatch more the schoole of common players than of any delicate Poet Lyricke or Elegiacke.

CHAP. XV.

ALl your other feete of three times I find no vse of them in our vulgar meeters nor no sweetenes at all, and yet words inough to serue their proportions. So as though they haue not hitherto bene made artificiall, yet nowe by more curious obseruation they might be. Since all artes grew first by obseruation of natures pro­ceedings and custome. And first your [Molossus] being of all three long is euidently discouered by this word [pērmīttīng] The [Ana­pestus] of two short and a long by this word [fŭrĭōus] if the next word beginne with a consonant. The foote [Bacchius] of a short and two long by this word [rĕsīstānce] the foote [Antibachius] of two long and a short by this word [ēxāmplĕ] the foote] Amphima­cer] of a long a short & a long by this word [cōnquĕrīng] the foote of [Amphibrachus] of a short a long and a short by this word [rĕ­mēmber] [Page 107] if a vowell follow. The foote [Tribrachus] of three short times is very hard to be made by any of our trissillables vnles they be cōpounded of the smoothest sort of consonants or sillables vo­cals, or of threesmooth monosillables, or of some peece of a lōg poly­sillable & after that sort we may with wresting of words shape the foot [Tribrachus] rather by vsurpation thē by rule, which neuer­theles is allowed in euery primitiue arte & inuentiō: & so it was by the Greekes and Latines in their first versifying, as if a rule should be set downe that from henceforth these words should be counted al Tribrachus. [ĕnĕmĭe] rĕmĕdĭe] sĕlĭnĕs] mŏnĭlĕs] pĕnĭlĕs] crŭĕllĭe] & such like, or a peece of this long word [rĕcōuĕrăblĕ] innŭmĕrăblē reădĭlĭe] and others. Of all which manner of apt wordes to make these stranger feet of three times which go not so currant with our eare as the dactil, the maker should haue a good iudgement to know them by their manner of orthographie and by their accent which serue most fitly for euery foote, or else he shoulde haue al­waies a little calender of them apart to vse readily when he shall neede them. But because in very truth I thinke them but vaine & superstitious obseruations nothing at all furthering the pleasant melody of our English meeter, I leaue to speake any more of them and rather wish the continuance of our old maner of Poesie, scan­ning our verse by sillables rather than by feete, and vsing most commonly the word Iambique & sometime the Trochaike which ye shall discerne by their accents, and now and then a dactill kee­ping precisely our symphony or rime without any other mincing measures, which an idle inuentiue head could easily deuise, as the former examples teach.

CHAP. XVI.

THe Greekes and Latines vsed verses in the odde sillable of two sortes, which they called Catalecticke and Acatalecticke, that is odde vnder and odde ouer the iust measure of their verse, & we in our vulgar finde many of the like, and specially in the rimes of Sir Thomas Wiat, strained perchaunce out of their originall, made first by Francis Petrarcha: as these

Where in your first second and fourth verse, ye may find a sillable superfluous, and though in the first ye will seeme to helpe it, by drawing these three sillables, [īm mĕ sŭ] into a dactil, in the rest it can not be so excused, wherefore we must thinke he did it of purpose, by the odde sillable to giue greater grace to his meetre, and we finde in our old rimes, this odde sillable, sometime placed in the beginning and sometimes in the middle of a verse, and is al­lowed to go alone & to hāg to any other sillable. But this odde sil­lable in our meetres is not the halfe foote as the Greekes and La­tines vsed him in their verses, and called such measure pentimime­ris and eptamimeris, but rather is that, which they called the cata­lectik or maymed verse. Their hemimeris or halfe foote serued not by licence Poeticall or necessitie of words, but to bewtifie and ex­ornate the verse by placing one such halfe foote in the middle Ce­sure, & one other in the end of the verse, as they vsed all their pen­tameters elegiack: and not by coupling them together, but by ac­compt to make their verse of a iust measure and not defectiue or superflous: our odde sillable is not altogether of that nature, but is in a maner drownd and supprest by the flat accent, and shrinks a­way as it were inaudible and by that meane the odde verse comes almost to be an euen in euery mans hearing. The halfe foote of the auncients was reserued purposely to an vse, and therefore they gaue such odde sillable, wheresoeuer he fell the sharper accent, and made by him a notorious pause as in this pentameter.

Which in all make fiue whole feete, or the verse Pentameter. We in our vulgar haue not the vse of the like halfe foote.

CHAP. XIII.

BVt whether ye suffer your sillable to receiue his quantitie by his accent, or by his ortography, or whether ye keepe your bis­sillable whole or whether ye breake him, all is one to his quantitie, [Page 109] and his time will appeare the selfe same still and ought not to be altered by our makers, vnlesse it be whē such sillable is allowed to be common and to receiue any of both times, as in the dimeter, made of two sillables entier.

The first is a good spondeus, the second a good iambus, and if the same wordes be broken thus it is not so pleasant.

And yet the first makes a iambus, and the second a trocheus ech sillable retayning still his former quantities. And alwaies ye must haue regard to the sweetenes of the meetre, so as if your word po­lysillable would not sound pleasantly whole, ye should for the nonce breake him, which ye may easily doo by inserting here and there one monosillable among your polysillables, or by chaunging your word into another place then where he soundes vnpleasant­ly, and by breaking, turne a trocheus to a iambus, or contrariwise: as thus:

These verses be trochaik, and in mine eare not so sweete and harmonicall as the iambicque, thus:

All which verses bee now become iambicque by breaking the first bissillables, and yet alters not their quantities though the feete be altered: and thus,

Which being turned thus makes a new harmonie.

And following this obseruation your meetres being builded with polysillables will fall diuersly out, that is some to be spondaick, some iambick, others dactilick, others trochaick, and of one min­gled with another, as in this verse.

The verse is trochaick, but being altered thus, is iambicque.

And as Sir Thomas Wiat song in a verse wholly trochaick, be­cause the wordes do best shape to that foote by their naturall ac­cent, thus,

And in this ditty of th'Erle of Surries, passing sweete and har­monicall: all be Iambick.

Which beyng disposed otherwise or not broken, would proue all trochaick, but nothing pleasant.

Now furthermore ye are to note, that al your monosyllables may receiue the sharp accent, but not so aptly one as another, as in this verse where they serue well to make him iambicque, but not tro­chaick.

Where the sharpe accent falles more tunably vpon [graunt] [peace] [long] [dure] then it would by conuersion, as to accent them thus:

And yet if ye will aske me the reason, I can not tell it, but that it shapes so to myne eare, and as I thinke to euery other mans. And in this meeter where ye haue whole words bissillable vnbroken, that maintaine (by reason of their accent) sundry feete, yet going one with another be very harmonicall.

Where ye see one to be a trocheus another the iambus, and so en­termingled not by election but by constraint of their seuerall ac­cents, which ought not to be altred, yet comes it to passe that ma­ny times ye must of necessitie alter the accent of a sillable, and put him from his naturall place, and then one sillable, of a word polysil­lable, or one word monosillable, will abide to be made sometimes long, sometimes short, as in this quadreyne of ours playd in a mery moode.

Where in your first verse these two words [giue] and [me] are accented one high th'other low, in the third verse the same words are accented contrary, and the reason of this exchange is manifest, because the maker playes with these two clauses of sundry rela­tions [giue me] and [giue others] so as the monosillable [me] being respectiue to the word [others] and inferring a subtilitie or wittie implication, ought not to haue the same accent, as when he hath no such respect, as in this distik of ours.

In which verse ye see this word [reprooue,] the sillable [prooue] alters his sharpe accent into a flat, for naturally it is long in all his singles and compoundes [reproòue] [approòue] [disproòue] & so is the sillable [cuse] in [excuse] [accuse] [recuse] yet in these verses by reason one of them doth as it were nicke another, and haue a certaine extraordinary sence with all, it behoueth to remoue the sharpe accents from whence they are most naturall, to place them where the nicke may be more expresly discouered, and therefore in this verse where no such implication is, nor no relation it is o­therwise, as thus.

For in this word [reproóue] because there is no extraordinary sence to be inferred, he keepeth his sharpe accent vpon the sillable [proóue] but in the former verses because they seeme to encoun­ter ech other, they do thereby merite an audible and pleasant alte­ratiō of their accents in those sillables that cause the subtiltie. Of these maner of nicetees ye shal finde in many places of our booke, but specially where we treate of ornament, vnto which we referre you, sauing that we thought good to set down one example more to solace your mindes with mirth after all these scholasticall pre­ceptes, which can not but bring with them (specially to Courtiers) much tediousnesse, and so to end. In our Comedie intituled Gine­cocratia: the king was supposed to be a person very amorous and effeminate, and therefore most ruled his ordinary affaires by the [Page 112] aduise of women either for the loue he bare to their persons or li­king he had to their pleasant ready witts and vtterance. Comes me to the Court one Polemon an honest plaine man of the country, but rich: and hauing a suite to the king, met by chaunce with one Phi­lino, a louer of wine and a merry companion in Court, and praied him in that he was a stranger that he would vouchsafe to tell him which way he were best to worke to get his suite, and who were most in credit and fauour about the king, that he might seeke to them to furder his attempt. Philino perceyuing the plainnesse of the man, and that there would be some good done with him, told Polemon that if he would well consider him for his labor he would bring him where he should know the truth of all his demaundes by the sentence of the Oracle. Polemon gaue him twentie crownes, Philino brings him into a place where behind an arras cloth hee himselfe spake in manner of an Oracle in these meeters, for so did all the Sybils and sothsaiers in old times giue their answers.

Polemon wist not what to make of this doubtfull speach, & not being lawfull to importune the oracle more then once in one mat­ter, conceyued in his head the pleasanter construction, and stacke to it: and hauing at home a fayre yong damsell of eighteene yeares old to his daughter, that could very well behaue her selfe in coun­tenance & also in her language, apparelled her as gay as he could, and brought her to the Court, where Philino harkning daily after the euent of this matter, met him, and recommended his daugh­ter to the Lords, who perceiuing her great beauty and other good parts, brought her to the King, to whom she exhibited her fathers supplication, and found so great fauour in his eye, as without any long delay she obtained her sute at his hands. Polemon by the di­ligent solliciting of his daughter, wanne his purpose: Philino gat a good reward and vsed the matter so, as howsoeuer the oracle had bene construed, he could not haue receiued blame nor discredit by the successe, for euery waies it would haue proued true, whe­ther Polemons daughter had obtayned the sute, or not obtained it. [Page 113] And the subtiltie lay in the accent and Ortographie of these two wordes [any] and [weemen] for [any] being deuided sounds [ a nie or neere person to the king: and [weemen] being diuided soundes wee men, and not [weemen] and so by this meane Philino serued all turnes and shifted himselfe from blame, not vnlike the tale of the Rattlemouse who in the warres proclaimed betweene the foure footed beasts, and the birdes, beyng sent for by the Lyon to be at his musters, excused himselfe for that he was a foule and flew with winges: and beyng sent for by the Eagle to serue him, sayd that he was a foure footed beast, and by that craftie cauill escaped the danger of the warres, and shunned the seruice of both Princes. And euer since sate at home by the fires side, eating vp the poore husbandmans baken, halfe lost for lacke of a good huswifes looking too.

CHAP. I.

AS no doubt the good proportion of any thing doth greatly adorne and commend it and right so our late remembred propor­tions doe to our vulgar Poesie: so is there yet requisite to the perfection of this arte, another maner of exornation, which re­steth in the fashioning of our makers lan­guage and stile, to such purpose as it may delight and allure as well the mynde as the eare of the hearers with a certaine noueltie and strange maner of conueyance, dis­guising it no litle from the ordinary and accustomed: neuerthe­lesse making it nothing the more vnseemely or misbecomming, but rather decenter and more agreable to any ciuill eare and vn­derstanding. And as we see in these great Madames of honour, be they for personage or otherwise neuer so comely and bewti­full, yet if they want their courtly habillements or at leastwise such other apparell as custome and ciuilitie haue ordained to co­uer their naked bodies, would be halfe ashamed or greatly out of countenaunce to be seen in that sort, and perchance do then thinke themselues more amiable in euery mans eye, when they be in their richest attire, suppose of silkes or tyssewes & costly embroderies, then when they go in cloth or in any other plaine and simple ap­parell. Euen so cannot our vulgar Poesie shew it selfe either gal­lant or gorgious, if any lymme be left naked and bare and not clad in his kindly clothes and coulours, such as may conuey them som­what out of sight, that is from the common course of ordinary [Page 115] speach and capacitie of the vulgar iudgement, and yet being arti­ficially handled must needes yeld it much more bewtie and com­mendation. This ornament we speake of is giuen to it by figures and figuratiue speaches, which be the flowers as it were and cou­lours that a Poet setteth vpon his language by arte, as the embro­derer doth his stone and perle, or passements of gold vpon the stuffe of a Princely garment, or as th'excellent painter bestoweth the rich Orient coulours vpon his table of pourtraite: so neuer­thelesse as if the same coulours in our arte of Poesie (as well as in those other mechanicall artes) be not well tempered, or not well layd, or be vsed in excesse, or neuer so litle disordered or mispla­ced, they not onely giue it no maner of grace at all, but rather do disfigure the stuffe and spill the whole workmanship taking a­way all bewtie and good liking from it, no lesse then if the crim­son tainte, which should be laid vpon a Ladies lips, or right in the center of her cheekes should by some ouersight or mishap be ap­plied to her forhead or chinne, it would make (ye would say) but a very ridiculous bewtie, wherfore the chief prayse and cunning of our Poet is in the discreet vsing of his figures, as the skilfull pain­ters is in the good conueyance of his coulours and shadowing traits of his pensill, with a delectable varietie, by all measure and iust proportion, and in places most aptly to be bestowed.

CHAP, II.

BVt as it hath bene alwayes reputed a great fault to vse figura­tiue speaches foolishly and indiscretly, so is it esteemed no lesse an imperfection in mans vtterance, to haue none vse of figure at all, specially in our writing and speaches publike, making them but as our ordinary talke, then which nothing can be more vnsa­uourie and farre from all ciuilitie. I remember in the first yeare of Queenes Maries raigne a Knight of Yorkshire was chosen speaker of the Parliament, a good gentleman and wise, in the affaires of his shire, and not vnlearned in the lawes of the Realme, but as well for some lack of his teeth, as for want of language no­thing [Page 116] thing well spoken, which at that time and businesse was most be­hooffull for him to haue bene: this man after he had made his Oration to the Queene; which ye know is of course to be done at the first assembly of both houses; a bencher of the Temple both well learned and very eloquent, returning from the Par­liament house asked another gentleman his frend how he liked M. Speakers Oration: mary quoth th'other, me thinks I heard not a better alehouse tale told this seuen yeares. This happened be­cause the good old Knight made no difference betweene an Ora­tion or publike speach to be deliuered to th'eare of a Princes Ma­iestie and state of a Realme, then he would haue done of an ordi­nary tale to be told at his table in the countrey, wherein all men know the oddes is very great. And though graue and wise coun­sellours in their consultations doe not vse much superfluous elo­quence, and also in their iudiciall hearings do much mislike all scholasticall rhetoricks: yet in such a case as it may be (and as this Parliament was) if the Lord Chancelour of England or Archbi­shop of Canterbury himselfe were to speake, he ought to doe it cunningly and eloquently, which can not be without the vse of figures: and neuerthelesse none impeachment or blemish to the grauitie of their persons or of the cause: wherein I report me to thē that knew Sir Nicholas Bacon Lord keeper of the great Seale, or the now Lord Treasorer of England, and haue bene conuersant with their speaches made in the Parliament house & Starrecham­ber. From whose lippes I haue seene to proceede more graue and naturall eloquence, then from all the Oratours of Oxford or Cambridge, but all is as it is handled, and maketh no matter whe­ther the same eloquence be naturall to them or artificiall (though I, thinke rather naturall) yet were they knowen to be learned and not vnskilfull of th'arte, when they were yonger men: and as lear­ning and arte teacheth a schollar to speake, so doth it also teach a counsellour, and aswell an old man as a yong, and a man in autho­ritie, aswell as a priuate person, and a pleader aswell as a preacher, euery man after his sort and calling as best becommeth: and that speach which becommeth one, doth not become another, for ma­ners of speaches, some serue to work in excesse, some in mediocri­tie, some to graue purposes, some to light, some to be short and [Page 117] brief, some to be long, some to stirre vp affections, some to pacifie and appease them, and these common despisers of good vtterance, which resteth altogether in figuratiue speaches, being well vsed whether it come by nature or by arte or by exercise, they be but certaine grosse ignorance of whom it is truly spoken scientia non habet inimicum nisi ignorantem. I haue come to the Lord Keeper Sir Nicholas Bacon, & found him sitting in his gallery alone with the works of Quintilian before him, in deede he was a most eloquent man, and of rare learning and wisedome, as euer I knew England to breed, and one that ioyed as much in learned men and men of good witts. A Knight of the Queenes priuie chamber, once in­treated a noble woman of the Court, being in great fauour about her Maiestie (to th'intent to remoue her from a certaine displea­sure, which by sinister opinion she had conceiued against a gentle­man his friend) that it would please her to heare him speake in his own cause & not to cōdēne him vpon his aduersaries report: God forbid said she, he is to wise for me to talke with, let him goe and satisfie such a man naming him: why quoth the Knight againe, had your Ladyship rather heare a man talke like a foole or like a wise man? This was because the Lady was a litle peruerse, and not disposed to reforme her selfe by hearing reason, which none o­ther can so well beate into the ignorant head, as the well spoken and eloquent man. And because I am so farre waded into this discourse of eloquence and figuratiue speaches, I will tell you what hapned on a time my selfe being present when certaine Doctours of the ciuil law were heard in a litigious cause betwixt a man and his wife: before a great Magistrat who (as they can tell that knew him) was a man very well learned and graue, but somewhat sowre, and of no plausible vtterance: the gentlemans chaunce, was to say: my Lord the simple woman is not so much to blame as her lewde abbettours, who by violent perswasions haue lead her into this wilfulnesse. Quoth the iudge, what neede such eloquent termes in this place, the gentleman replied, doth your Lordship mislike the terme, [violent] & me thinkes I speake it to great purpose: for I am sure she would neuer haue done it, but by force of perswasion: & if perswasiōs were not very violent, to the minde of man it could not haue wrought so stāge an effect as we read that it did once in Ae­gypt, [Page 118] & would haue told the whole tale at large, if the Magistrate had not passed it ouer very pleasantly. Now to tell you the whole matter as the gentlemā intēded, thus it was. There came into Ae­gypt a notable Oratour, whose name was Hegesias who inueyed so much against the incōmodities of this transitory life, & so high­ly commended death the dispatcher of all euils; as a great number of his hearers destroyed themselues, some with weapō, some with poyson, others by drowning and hanging themselues to be rid out of this vale of misery, in so much as it was feared least many moe of the people would haue miscaried by occasion of his per­swasions, if king Ptolome had not made a publicke proclamation, that the Oratour should auoyde the countrey, and no more be al­lowed to speake in any matter. Whether now perswasions, may not be said violent and forcible to simple myndes in speciall, I re­ferre it to all mens iudgements that heare the story. At least waies, I finde this opinion, confirmed by a pretie deuise or embleme that Lucianus alleageth he saw in the pourtrait of Hercules within the Citie of Marseills in Prouence: where they had figured a lustie old man with a long chayne tyed by one end at his tong by the o­ther end at the peoples eares, who stood a farre of and seemed to be drawen to him by the force of that chayne fastned to his tong, as who would say, by force of his perswasions. And to shew more plainly that eloquence is of great force (and not as many men thinke amisse) the propertie and gift of yong men onely, but ra­ther of old men, and a thing which better becommeth hory haires then beardlesse boyes, they seeme to ground it vpon this reason: age (say they and most truly) brings experience, experience brin­geth wisedome, long life yeldes long vse and much exercise of speach, exercise and custome with wisedome, make an assured and volluble vtterance: so is it that old men more then any other sort speake most grauely, wisely, assuredly, and plausibly, which partes are all that can be required in perfite eloquence, and so in all deli­berations of importance where counsellours are allowed freely to opyne & shew their cōceits, good perswasion is no lesse requisite then speach it selfe: for in great purposes to speake and not to be able or likely to perswade, is a vayne thing: now let vs returne backe to say more of this Poeticall ornament.

CHAP. III.

THis ornament then is of two sortes, one to satisfie & delight th'eare onely by a goodly outward shew set vpon the matter with wordes, and speaches smothly and tunably running: ano­ther by certaine intendments or sence of such wordes & speaches inwardly working a stirre to the mynde: that first qualitie the Greeks called Enargia, of this word argos, because it geueth a glo­rious lustre and light. This latter they called Energia of ergon, be­cause it wrought with a strong and vertuous operation; and fi­gure breedeth them both, some seruing to giue glosse onely to a language, some to geue it efficacie by sence, and so by that meanes some of them serue th'eare onely, some serue the conceit onely and not th'eare: there be of them also that serue both turnes as commō seruitours appointed for th'one and th'other purpose, which shal­be hereafter spoken of in place: but because we haue alleaged be­fore that ornament is but the good or rather bewtifull habite of language and stile, and figuratiue speaches the instrument where­with we burnish our language fashioning it to this or that mea­sure and proportion, whence finally resulteth a long and continu­all phrase or maner of writing or speach, which we call by the name of stile: we wil first speake of language, then of stile, lastly of figure, and declare their vertue and differences, and also their vse and best application, & what portion in exornation euery of them bringeth to the bewtifying of this Arte.

CHAP. IIII.

SPeach is not naturall to man sauing for his onely habilitie to speake, and that he is by kinde apt to vtter all his conceits with sounds and voyces diuersified many maner of wayes, by meanes of the many & fit instruments he hath by nature to that purpose, as a broad and voluble tong, thinne and mouable lippes, teeth euē and not shagged, thick ranged, a round vaulted pallate, and a long throte, besides an excellent capacitie of wit that maketh him more disciplinable and imitatiue then any other creature: then as to the [Page 120] forme and action of his speach, it commeth to him by arte & tea­ching, and by vse or exercise. But after a speach is fully fashioned to the common vnderstanding, & accepted by consent of a whole countrey & natiō, it is called a language, & receaueth none allow­ed alteration, but by extraordinary occasions by little & little, as it were insensibly bringing in of many corruptiōs that creepe along with the time: of all which matters, we haue more largely spoken in our bookes of the originals and pedigree of the English tong. Then when I say language, I meane the speach wherein the Poet or maker writeth be it Greek or Latine, or as our case is the vulgar English, & when it is peculiar vnto a countrey it is called the mo­ther speach of that people: the Greekes terme it Idioma: so is ours at this day the Norman English. Before the Conquest of the Nor­mans it was the Anglesaxon, and before that the British, which as some will, is at this day, the Walsh, or as others affirme the Cor­nish: I for my part thinke neither of both, as they be now spoken and ponounced. This part in our maker or Poet must be heedy­ly looked vnto, that it be naturall, pure, and the most vsuall of all his countrey: and for the same purpose rather that which is spo­ken in the kings Court, or in the good townes and Cities within the land, then in the marches and frontiers, or in port townes, where straungers haunt for traffike sake, or yet in Vniuersities where Schollers vse much peeuish affectation of words out of the primatiue languages, or finally, in any vplandish village or cor­ner of a Realme, where is no resort but of poore rusticall or vnci­uill people: neither shall he follow the speach of a craftes man or carter, or other of the inferiour sort, though he be inhabitant or bred in the best towne and Citie in this Realme, for such persons doe abuse good speaches by strange accents or ill shapen soundes, and false ortographie. But he shall follow generally the better brought vp sort, such as the Greekes call [charientes] men ciuill and graciously behauoured and bred. Our maker therfore at these dayes shall not follow Piers plowman nor Gower nor Lydgate nor yet Chaucer, for their language is now out of vse with vs: neither shall he take the termes of Northern-men, such as they vse in day­ly talke, whether they be noble men or gentlemen, or of their best clarkes all is a matter: nor in effect any speach vsed beyond the [Page 121] riuer of Trent, though no man can deny but that theirs is the pu­rer English Saxon at this day, yet it is not so Courtly nor so cur­rant as our Southerne English is, no more is the far Westerne mās speach: ye shall therfore take the vsuall speach of the Court, and that of London and the shires lying about London within lx. myles, and not much aboue. I say not this but that in euery shyre of England there be gentlemen and others that speake but special­ly write as good Southerne as we of Middlesex or Surrey do, but not the common people of euery shire, to whom the gentlemen, and also their learned clarkes do for the most part condescend, but herein we are already ruled by th'English Dictionaries and other bookes written by learned men, and therefore it needeth none o­ther direction in that behalfe. Albeit peraduenture some small ad­monition be not impertinent, for we finde in our English wri­ters many wordes and speaches amendable, & ye shall see in some many inkhorne termes so ill affected brought in by men of lear­ning as preachers and schoolemasters: and many straunge termes of other languages by Secretaries and Marchaunts and trauai­lours, and many darke wordes and not vsuall nor well sounding, though they be dayly spoken in Court. Wherefore great heed must be taken by our maker in this point that his choise be good. And peraduenture the writer hereof be in that behalfe no lesse faultie then any other, vsing many straunge and vnaccusto­med wordes and borrowed from other languages: and in that respect him selfe no meete Magistrate to reforme the same errours in any other person, but since he is not vnwilling to acknowledge his owne fault, and can the better tell how to amend it, he may seeme a more excusable correctour of other mens: he intendeth therefore for an indifferent way and vni­uersall benefite to taxe him selfe first and before any others.

These be words vsed by th'author in this present treatise, sciēti­ficke, but with some reason, for it answereth the word mechanicall, which no other word could haue done so properly, for when hee spake of all artificers which rest either in science or in handy craft, it followed necessarilie that scientifique should be coupled with mechanicall: or els neither of both to haue bene allowed, but in their places: a man of science liberall, and a handicrafts man, which [Page 122] had not bene so cleanly a speech as the other Maior-domo: in truth this word is borrowed of the Spaniard and Italian, and therefore new and not vsuall, but to them that are acquainted with the af­faires of Court: and so for his iolly magnificence (as this case is) may be accepted among Courtiers, for whom this is specially writ­ten. A man might haue said in steade of Maior-domo, the French word (maistre d'hostell) but ilfauouredly, or the right English word (Lord Steward.) But me thinks for my owne opinion this word Maior-domo though he be borrowed, is more acceptable thā any of the rest, other men may iudge otherwise. Politien, this word also is receiued from the Frenchmen, but at this day vsuall in Court and with all good Secretaries: and cannot finde an English word to match him, for to haue said a man politique, had not bene so wel: bicause in trueth that had bene no more than to haue said a ciuil person. Politien is rather a surueyour of ciuilitie than ciuil, & a publique minister or Counseller in the state. Ye haue also this worde Conduict, a French word, but well allowed of vs, and long since vsuall, it soundes somewhat more than this word (leading) for it is applied onely to the leading of a Captaine, and not as a lit­tle boy should leade a blinde man, therefore more proper to the case when he saide, conduict of whole armies: ye finde also this word Idiome, taken from the Greekes, yet seruing aptly, when a man wanteth to expresse so much vnles it be in two words, which surplussage to auoide, we are allowed to draw in other words sin­gle, and asmuch significatiue: this word significatiue is borrowed of the Latine and French, but to vs brought in first by some No­ble-mans Secretarie, as I thinke, yet doth so well serue the turne, as it could not now be spared: and many more like vsurped Latine and French words: as, Methode, methodicall, placation, function, as­subtiling, refining, compendious, prolixe, figuratiue, inueigle. A terme borrowed of our common Lawyers▪ impression, also a new terme, but well expressing the matter, and more than our English word. These words, Numerous, numerositee, metricall, harmonicall, but they cannot be refused, specially in this place for description of the arte. Also ye finde these words, penetrate, penetrable, indignitie, which I cannot see how we may spare them, whatsoeuer fault wee finde with Ink-horne termes: for our speach wanteth wordes to [Page 123] such sence so well to be vsed: yet in steade of indignitie, yee haue vnworthinesse: and for penetrate, we may say peerce, and that a French terme also, or broche, or enter into with violence, but not so well sounding as penetrate. Item, sauage, for wilde: obscure, for darke. Item these words, declination, delineation, dimention, are scho­lasticall termes in deede, and yet very proper. But peraduenture (& I could bring a reason for it) many other like words borrowed out of the Latin and French, were not so well to be allowed by vs, as these words, audacious, for bold: facunditie, for eloquence: egregi­ous, for great or notable: implete, for replenished: attemptat, for at­tempt: compatible, for agreeable in nature, and many more. But herein the noble Poet Horace hath said inough to satisfie vs all in these few verses.

Which I haue thus englished, but nothing with so good grace, nor so briefly as the Poet wrote.

CHAP. V.

STile is a constant & continuall phrase or tenour of speaking and writing, extending to the whole tale or processe of the poeme or historie, and not properly to any peece or member of a tale: but is of words speeches and sentences together, a certaine contriued forme and qualitie, many times naturall to the writer, many times his peculier by election and arte, and such as either he keepeth by skill, or holdeth on by ignorance, and will not or per­aduenture cannot easily alter into any other. So we say that Cice­roes stile, and Salusts were not one, nor Cesars and Liuies, nor Ho­mers and Hesiodus, nor Herodotus and Theucidides, nor Euripides & Aristophones, nor Erasmus and Budeus stiles. And because this continuall course and manner of writing or speech sheweth the [Page 124] matter and disposition of the writers minde, more than one or few words or sentences can shew, therefore there be that haue cal­led stile, the image of man [mentis character] for man is but his minde, and as his minde is tempered and qualified, so are his spee­ches and language at large, and his inward conceits be the mettall of his minde and his manner of vtterance the very warp & woofe of his conceits, more plaine, or busie and intricate, or otherwise af­fected after the rate. Most men say that not any one point in all Phisiognomy is so certaine, as to iudge a mans manners by his eye: but more assuredly in mine opinion, by his dayly maner of speech and ordinary writing. For if the man be graue, his speech and stile is graue: if light-headed, his stile and language also light: if the minde be haughtie and hoate, the speech and stile is also vehement and stirring: if it be colde and temperate, the stile is also very mo­dest: if it be humble, or base and meeke, so is also the language and stile. And yet peraduenture not altogether so, but that euery mans stile is for the most part according to the matter and subiect of the writer, or so ought to be, and conformable thereunto. Thē againe may it be said as wel, that men doo chuse their subiects according to the mettal of their minds, & therfore a high minded man chu­seth him high & lofty matter to write of. The base courage, matter base & lowe, the meane & modest mind, meane & moderate mat­ters after the rate. Howsoeuer it be, we finde that vnder these three principall cōplexiōs (if I may with leaue so terme thē) high, meane and base stile, there be contained many other humors or qualities of stile, as the plaine and obscure, the rough and smoth, the facill and hard, the plentifull and barraine, the rude and eloquent, the strong and feeble, the vehement and cold stiles, all which in their euill are to be reformed, and the good to be kept and vsed. But generally to haue the stile decent & comely it behooueth the ma­ker or Poet to follow the nature of his subiect, that is if his matter be high and loftie that the stile be so to, if meane, the stile also to be meane, if base, the stile humble and base accordingly: and they that do otherwise vse it, applying to meane matter, hie and loftie stile, and to hie matters, stile eyther meane or base, and to the base matters, the meane or hie stile, do vtterly disgrace their poesie and shew themselues nothing skilfull in their arte, nor hauing regard [Page 125] to the decencie, which is the chiefe praise of any writer. There­fore to ridde all louers of learning from that errour, I will as neere as I can set downe, which matters be hie and loftie, which be but meane, and which be low and base, to the intent the stiles may be fashioned to the matters, and keepe their decorum and good pro­portion in euery respect: I am not ignorant that many good clerkes be contrary to mine opinion, and say that the loftie style may be decently vsed in a meane and base subiect & contrariwise, which I do in parte acknowledge, but with a reasonable qualifica­tion. For Homer hath so vsed it in his trifling worke of Batra­chomyomachia: that is in his treatise of the warre betwixt the frogs and the mice. Virgill also in his bucolickes, and in his georgicks, whereof the one is counted meane, the other base, that is the hus­bandmans discourses and the shepheards, but hereunto serueth a reason in my simple conceite: for first to that trifling poeme of Homer, though the frog and the mouse be but litle and ridiculous beasts, yet to treat of warre is an high subiect, and a thing in euery respect terrible and daungerous to them that it alights on: and therefore of learned dutie asketh martiall grandiloquence, if it be set foorth in his kind and nature of warre, euen betwixt the basest creatures that can be imagined: so also is the Ante or pismire, and they be but little creeping things, not perfect beasts, but insect, or wormes: yet in describing their nature & instinct, and their man­ner of life approching to the forme of a common-welth, and their properties not vnlike to the vertues of most excellent gouernors and captaines, it asketh a more maiestie of speach then would the description of any other beastes life or nature, and perchance of many matters perteyning vnto the baser sort of men, because it resembleth the historie of a ciuill regiment, and of them all the chiefe and most principall which is Monarchie: so also in his buco­licks, which are but pastorall speaches and the basest of any other poeme in their owne proper nature: Virgill vsed a somewhat swelling stile when he came to insinuate the birth of Marcellus heire apparant to the Emperour Augustus, as child to his sister, aspiring by hope and greatnes of the house, to the succession of the Empire, and establishment thereof in that familie: whereupon Virgill could do no lesse then to vse such manner of stile, whatso­euer [Page 126] condition the poeme were of and this was decent, & no fault or blemish, to confound the tennors of the stiles for that cause. But now when I remember me againe that this Eglogue, (for I haue read it somewhere) was conceiued by Octauian th'Emperour to be written to the honour of Pollio a citizen of Rome, & of no great nobilitie, the same was misliked againe as an implicatiue, no­thing decent nor proportionable to Pollio his fortunes and cal­ling, in which respect I might say likewise the stile was not to be such as if it had bene for the Emperours owne honour, and those of the bloud imperiall, then which subiect there could not be a­mong the Romane writers an higher nor grauer to treat vpon: so can I not be remoued from mine opinion, but still me thinks that in all decencie the stile ought to conforme with the nature of the subiect, otherwise if a writer will seeme to obserue no decorum at all, nor passe how he fashion his tale to his matter, who doubteth but he may in the lightest cause speake like a Pope, & in the gra­uest matters prate like a parrat, & finde wordes & phrases ynough to serue both turnes, and neither of them commendably, for nei­ther is all that may be written of Kings and Princes such as ought to keepe a high stile, nor all that may be written vpon a shepheard to keepe the low, but according to the matter reported, if that be of high or base nature: for euery pety pleasure, and vayne de­light of a king are not to accompted high matter for the height of his estate, but meane and perchaunce very base and vile: nor so a Poet or historiographer, could decently with a high stile re­porte the vanities of Nero, the ribaudries of Caligula, the idlenes of Domitian, & the riots of Heliogabalus. But well the magnanimi­tie and honorable ambition of Caesar, the prosperities of Augu­stus, the grauitie of Tiberius, the bountie of Traiane, the wisedome of Aurelius, and generally all that which concerned the highest honours of Emperours, their birth, alliaunces, gouernement, ex­ploits in warre and peace, and other publike affaires: for they be matter stately and high, and require a stile to be lift vp and ad­uaunced by choyse of wordes, phrases, sentences, and figures, high, loftie, eloquent, & magnifik in proportion: so be the meane mat­ters, to be caried with all wordes and speaches of smothnesse and pleasant moderation, & finally the base things to be holden with­in [Page 127] their teder, by a low, myld, and simple maner of vtterance, cree­ping rather then clyming, & marching rather then mounting vp­wardes, with the wings of the stately subiects and stile.

CHAP. VI.

THe matters therefore that concerne the Gods and diuine things are highest of all other to be couched in writing, next to them the noble gests and great fortunes of Princes, and the no­table accidēts of time, as the greatest affaires of war & peace, these be all high subiectes, and therefore are deliuered ouer to the Poets Hymnick & historicall who be occupied either in diuine laudes, or in heroicall reports: the meane matters be those that cōcerne meane men, their life and busines, as lawyers, gentlemen, and marchants, good housholders and honest Citizens, and which sound neither to matters of state nor of warre, nor leagues, nor great alliances, but smatch all the common conuersation, as of the ciuiller and better sort of men: the base and low matters be the doings of the commō artificer, seruing man, yeoman, groome, husbandman, day-labourer, sailer, shepheard, swynard, and such like of homely cal­ling, degree and bringing vp: so that in euery of the sayd three degrees, not the selfe same vertues be egally to be praysed nor the same vices, egally to be dispraised, nor their loues, mariages, quarels, contracts and other behauiours, be like high nor do require to be set fourth with the like stile: but euery one in his degree and de­cencie, which made that all hymnes and histories, and Tragedies, were written in the high stile: all Comedies and Enterludes and other common Poesies of loues, and such like in the meane stile, all Eglogues and pastorall poemes in the low and base stile, other­wise they had bene vtterly disproporcioned: likewise for the same cause some phrases and figures be onely peculiar to the high stile, some to the base or meane, some common to all three, as shalbe de­clared more at large hereafter when we come to speake of figure and phrase: also some wordes and speaches and sentences doe be­come the high stile, that do not become th'other two. And contra­riwise, as shalbe said when we talke of words and sentences: final­ly some kinde of measure and concord, doe not beseeme the high stile, that well become the meane and low, as we haue said spea­king [Page 128] of concord and measure. But generally the high stile is dis­graced and made foolish and ridiculous by all wordes affected, counterfait, and puffed vp, as it were a windball carrying more countenance then matter, and can not be better resembled then to these midsommer pageants in London, where to make the people wonder are set forth great and vglie Gyants marching as if they were aliue, and armed at all points, but within they are stuffed full of browne paper and tow, which the shrewd boyes vnderpeering, do guilefully discouer and turne to a great derision: also all darke and vnaccustomed wordes, or rusticall and homely, and sentences that hold too much of the mery & light, or infamous & vnshame­fast are to be accounted of the same sort, for such speaches become not Princes, nor great estates, nor them that write of their doings to vtter or report and intermingle with the graue and weightie matters.

CHAP. VII.

AS figures be the instruments of ornament in euery language, so be they also in a sorte abuses or rather trespasses in speach, because they passe the ordinary limits of common vtterance, and be occupied of purpose to deceiue the eare and also the minde, drawing it from plainnesse and simplicitie to a certaine double­nesse, whereby our talke is the more guilefull & abusing, for what els is your Metaphor but an inuersion of sence by transport; your allegorie by a duplicitie of meaning or dissimulation vnder couert and darke intendments: one while speaking obscurely and in rid­dle called Aenigma: another while by common prouerbe or A­dage called Paremia: then by merry skoffe called Iroma: then by bitter tawnt called Sarcasmus: then by periphrase or circumlo­cution when all might be said in a word or two: then by incredi­ble comparison giuing credit, as by your Hyperbole, and many o­ther waies seeking to inueigle and appassionate the mind: which thing made the graue iudges Areopagites (as I find written) to forbid all manner of figuratiue speaches to be vsed before them in their consistorie of Iustice, as meere illusions to the minde, and wresters of vpright iudgement, saying that to allow such manner of forraine & coulored talke to make the iudges affectioned, were [Page 129] all one as if the carpenter before he began to square his timber would make his squire crooked: in so much as the straite and vp­right mind of a Iudge is the very rule of iustice till it be peruerted by affection. This no doubt is true and was by them grauely considered: but in this case because our maker or Poet is appoin­ted not for a iudge, but rather for a pleader, and that of pleasant & louely causes and nothing perillous, such as be those for the triall of life, limme, or liuelyhood; and before iudges neither sower nor seuere, but in the eare of princely dames, yong ladies, gentlewo­men and courtiers, beyng all for the most part either meeke of na­ture, or of pleasant humour, and that all his abuses tende but to dispose the hearers to mirth and sollace by pleasant conueyance and efficacy of speach, they are not in truth to be accompted vices but for vertues in the poetical science very cōmendable. On the o­ther side, such trespasses in speach (whereof there be many) as geue dolour and disliking to the eare & minde, by any foule indecencie or disproportion of sound, situation, or sence, they be called and not without cause the vicious parts or rather heresies of language: wherefore the matter resteth much in the definition and accep­tance of this word [decorum] for whatsoeuer is so, cannot iustly be misliked. In which respect it may come to passe that what the Grammarian setteth downe for a viciositee in speach may become a vertue and no vice, contrariwise his commended figure may fall into a reprochfull fault: the best and most assured remedy where­of is, generally to follow the saying of Bias: ne quid nimis. So as in keeping measure, and not exceeding nor shewing any defect in the vse of his figures, he cannot lightly do amisse, if he haue be­sides (as that must needes be) a speciall regard to all circumstances of the person, place, time, cause and purpose he hath in hand, which being well obserued it easily auoideth all the recited inconuenien­ces, and maketh now and then very vice goe for a formall vertue in the exercise of this Arte.

CHAP. VIII.

BVt before there had bene yet any precise obseruation made of figuratiue speeches, the first learned artificers of language con­sidered [Page 130] that the bewtie and good grace of vtterance rested in no many pointes: and whatsoeuer transgressed those lymits, they counted it for vitious; and thereupon did set downe a manner of regiment in all speech generally to be obserued, consisting in sixe pointes. First they said that there ought to be kept a decent pro­portion in our writings and speach, which they termed Analogia. Secondly, that it ought to be voluble vpon the tongue, and tuna­ble to the eare, which they called Tasis. Thirdly, that it were not tediously long but briefe and compendious, as the matter might beare, which they called Syntomia. Fourthly, that it should cary an orderly and good construction, which they called Synthesis. Fiftly, that it should be a sound, proper and naturall speach, which they called Ciriologia. Sixtly, that it should be liuely & stirring, which they called Tropus. So as it appeareth by this order of theirs, that no vice could be committed in speech, keeping within the bounds of that restraint. But sir, all this being by them very well concei­ued, there remayned a greater difficultie to know what this pro­portion, volubilitie, good construction, & the rest were, otherwise we could not be euer the more relieued. It was therefore of neces­sitie that a more curious and particular description should bee made of euery manner of speech, either transgressing or agreeing with their said generall prescript. Whereupon it came to passe, that all the commendable parts of speech were set foorth by the name of figures, and all the illaudable partes vnder the name of vices, or viciosities, of both which it shall bee spoken in their places.

CHAP. IX.

THe Greekes were a happy people for the freedome & liberty of their language, because it was allowed thē to inuēt any new name that they listed and to peece many words together to make of them one entire, much more significatiue than the single word. So among other things did they to their figuratiue speeches deuise certaine names. The Latines came somewhat behind them in that [Page 131] point, and for want of conuenient single wordes to expresse that which the Greeks could do by cobling many words together, they were faine to vse the Greekes still, till after many yeares that the learned Oratours and good Grammarians among the Romaines, as Cicero, Varro, Quintilian, & others strained themselues to giue the Greeke wordes Latin names, and yet nothing so apt and fitty. The same course are we driuen to follow in this description, since we are enforced to cull out for the vse of our Poet or maker all the most commendable figures. Now to make them knowen (as behoueth) either we must do it by th'originall Greeke name or by the Latine, or by our owne. But when I consider to what sort of Readers I write, & how ill faring the Greeke terme would sound in the English eare, then also how short the Latines come to ex­presse manie of the Greeke originals. Finally, how well our lan­guage serueth to supplie the full signification of them both, I haue thought it no lesse lawfull, yea peraduenture vnder licence of the learned, more laudable to vse our owne naturall, if they be well chosen, and of proper signification, than to borrow theirs. So shall not our English Poets, though they be to seeke of the Greeke and Latin languages, lament for lack of knowledge sufficient to the purpose of this arte. And in case any of these new English names giuen by me to any figure, shall happen to offend. I pray that the learned will beare with me and to thinke the straungenesse there­of proceedes but of noueltie and disaquaintance with our eares, which in processe of tyme, and by custome will frame very well: and such others as are not learned in the primitiue languages, if they happen to hit vpon any new name of myne (so ridiculous in their opinion) as may moue them to laughter, let such persons, yet assure themselues that such names go as neare as may be to their originals, or els serue better to the purpose of the figure then the very originall, reseruing alwayes, that such new name should not be vnpleasant in our vulgar nor harsh vpon the tong: and where it shall happen otherwise, that it may please the reader to thinke that hardly any other name in our English could be found to serue the turne better. Againe if to auoid the hazard of this blame I should haue kept the Greek or Latin still it would haue appea­red a little too scholasticall for our makers, and a peece of worke [Page 132] more fit for clerkes then for Courtiers for whose instruction this trauaile is taken: and if I should haue left out both the Greeke and Latine name, and put in none of our owne neither: well per­chance might the rule of the figure haue bene set downe, but no conuenient name to hold him in memory. It was therfore expe­dient we deuised for euery figure of importance his vulgar name, and to ioyne the Greeke or Latine originall with them; after that sort much better satisfying aswel the vulgar as the learned learner, and also the authors owne purpose, which is to make of a ruderi­mer, a learned and a Courtly Poet.

CHAP. X.

ANd because our chiefe purpose herein is for the learning of Ladies and young Gentlewomen, or idle Courtiers, desirous to become skilful in their owne mother tongue, and for their pri­uate recreation to make now & then ditties of pleasure, thinking for our parte none other science so fit for them & the place as that which teacheth beau semblant, the chiefe professiō aswell of Cour­ting as of poesie: since to such manner of mindes nothing is more combersome then tedious doctrines and schollarly methodes of discipline, we haue in our owne conceit deuised a new and strange modell of this arte, fitter to please the Court then the schoole, and yet not vnnecessarie for all such as be willing themselues to be­come good makers in the vulgar, or to be able to iudge of other mens makings: wherefore, intending to follow the course which we haue begun, thus we say: that though the language of our Po­et or maker be pure and clenly, and not disgraced by such vicious parts as haue bene before remembred in the Chapter of language, be sufficiently pleasing and commendable for the ordinarie vse of speech; yet is not the same so well appointed for all purposes of the excellent Poet, as when it is gallātly arrayed in all his colours which figure can set vpon it, therefore we are now further to de­termine of figures and figuratiue speeches. Figuratiue speech is a noueltie of language euidently (and yet not absurdly) estranged from the ordinarie habite and manner of our dayly talke and wri­ting [Page 133] and figure it selfe is a certaine liuely or good grace set vpon wordes, speaches and sentences to some purpose and not in vaine, giuing them ornament or efficacie by many maner of alterations in shape, in sounde, and also in sence, sometime by way of sur­plusage, sometime by defect, sometime by disorder, or mutation, & also by putting into our speaches more pithe and substance, sub­tilitie, quicknesse, efficacie or moderation, in this or that sort tu­ning and tempring them, by amplification, abridgemēt, opening, closing, enforcing, meekening or otherwise disposing them to the best purpose: whereupon the learned clerks who haue writtē me­thodically of this Arte in the two master languages, Greeke and Latine, haue sorted all their figures into three rankes, and the first they bestowed vpon the Poet onely: the second vpon the Poet and Oratour indifferently: the third vpon the Oratour alone. And that first sort of figures doth serue th'eare onely and may be there­fore called Auricular: your second serues the conceit onely and not th'eare, and may be called sensable, not sensible nor yet senten­tious: your third sort serues as well th'eare as the conceit and may be called sententious figures, because not only they properly apper­teine to full sentences, for bewtifying them with a currant & plea­sant numerositie, but also giuing them efficacie, and enlarging the whole matter besides with copious amplifications. I doubt not but some busie carpers will scorne at my new deuised termes: au­ricular and sensable, saying that I might with better warrant haue vsed in their steads these words, orthographicall or syntacticall, which the learned Grammarians left ready made to our hands, and do importe as much as th'other that I haue brought, which thing peraduenture I deny not in part, and neuerthelesse for some causes thought them not so necessarie: but with these maner of men I do willingly beare, in respect of their laudable endeuour to allow antiquitie and flie innouation: with like beneuolence I trust they will beare with me writing in the vulgar speach and seeking by my nouelties to satisfie not the schoole but the Court: whereas they know very well all old things soone waxe stale & lothsome, and the new deuises are euer dainty and delicate, the vulgar instru­ction requiring also vulgar and communicable termes, not clerk­ly or vncouthe as are all these of the Greeke and Latine languages [Page 134] primitiuely receiued, vnlesse they be qualified or by much vse and custome allowed and our eares made acquainted with them. Thus then I say that auricular figures be those which worke alteration in th'eare by sound, accent, time, and slipper volubilitie in vtte­rance such as for that respect was called by the auncients numero­sitie of speach. And not onely the whole body of a tale in poeme or historie may be made in such sort pleasant and agreable to the eare, but also euery clause by it selfe, and euery single word carried in a clause, may haue their pleasant sweetenesse apart. And so long as this qualitie extendeth but to the outward tuning of the speach reaching no higher then th'eare and forcing the mynde little or nothing, it is that vertue which the Greeks call Enargia and is the office of the auricular figures to performe. Therefore as the mem­bers of language at large are whole sentences, and sentences are compact of clauses, and clauses of words, and euery word of letters and sillables, so is the alteration (be it but of a sillable or letter) much materiall to the sound and sweetenesse of vtterance. Where­fore beginning first at the smallest alterations which rest in letters and sillables, the first sort of our figures auricular we do appoint to single words as they lye in language; the second to clauses of speach; the third to perfit sentences and to the whole masse or body of the tale be it poeme or historie written or reported.

CHAP. XI.

A Word as he lieth in course of language is many wayes figu­red and thereby not a little altered in sound, which conse­quently alters the tune and harmonie of a meeter as to the eare. And this alteration is sometimes by adding sometimes by rabba­ting of a sillable or letter to or from a word either in the begin­ning, middle or ending ioyning or vnioyning of sillables and letters suppressing or confounding their seuerall soundes, or by misplacing of a letter, or by cleare exchaunge of one letter for an­other, or by wrong ranging of the accent. And your figures of ad­dition or surpluse be three, videl. In the beginning, as to say: I-doen, [Page 135] for doon, endanger, for danger, embolden, for bolden.

In the middle, as to say renuers, for reuers, meeterly, for meetly, goldylockes, for goldlockes.

In th'end, as to say [remembren] for [remembre [[spoken] for [spoke]. And your figures of rabbate be as many, videl.

From the beginning, as to say [twixt for betwixt] [gainsay for againesay:] [ill for euill:]

From the middle, as to say [paraunter for parauenture] poorety for pouertie] souraigne for soueraigne] tane for taken.]

From the end, as to say [morne for morning] bet for better] and such like.

Your swallowing or eating vp one letter by another is when two vowels meete, whereof th'ones sound goeth into other, as to say for to attaine t'attaine] for sorrow and smart sor' and smart.]

Your displacing of a fillable as to say [desier for desire.] fier for fire.]

By cleare exchaunge of one letter or sillable for another, as to say euermare for euermore, wrang for wrong: gould for gold: fright for fraight and a hundred moe, which be commonly misused and strained to make rime.

By wrong ranging the accent of a sillable by which meane a short sillable is made long and a long short as to say soueráine for souéraine: gratious for grátious: éndure for endúre: Salómon for Sálomon.

These many wayes may our maker alter his wordes, and some­times it is done for pleasure to giue a better sound, sometimes vp­on necessitie, and to make vp the rime. But our maker must take heed that he be not to bold specially in exchange of one letter for another, for vnlesse vsuall speach and custome allow it, it is a fault and no figure, and because these be figures of the smallest impor­taunce, I forbeare to giue them any vulgar name.

CHAP. XII.

AS your single words may be many waies trāsfigured to make the meetre or verse more tunable and melodious, so also may [Page] your whole and entire clauses be in such sort contriued by the or­der of their construction as the eare may receiue a certaine recrea­tion, although the mind for any noueltie of sence be little or no­thing affected. And therefore al your figures of grammaticall con­struction, I accompt them but merely auricular in that they reach no furder then the eare. To which there will appeare some sweete or vnsauery point to offer you dolour or delight, either by some euident defect, or surplusage, or disorder, or immutation in the same speaches notably altering either the congruitie grammaticall, or the sence, or both. And first of those that worke by defect, if but one word or some little portion of speach be wanting, it may be supplied by ordinary vnderstanding and vertue of the figure Eclipsis, Eclipsis or the Figure of de­fault. as to say, so early a man, for [are ye] so early a man: he is to be intreated, for he is [easie] to be intreated: I thanke God I am to liue like a Gentleman, for I am [able] to liue, and the Spaniard said in his deuise of armes acuerdo oluido, I remember I forget whereas in right congruitie of speach it should be. I remember [that I [doo] forget. And in a deuise of our owne [empechement pur a choison] a let for a furderance whereas it should be said [vse] a let for a furderance, and a number more like speaches defectiue, and supplied by common vnderstanding.

But if it be to mo clauses then one, that some such word be sup­plied to perfit the congruitie or sence of them all, it is by the figure [Zeugma] we call him the [single supplie] because by one word we serue many clauses of one congruitie, Zeugma or the Single supply. and may be likened to the man that serues many maisters at once, but all of one country or kinred: as to say.

Here this word forsooke satisfieth the congruitie and sence of all three clauses, which would require euery of them asmuch. And as we setting forth her Maiesties regall petigree, said in this figure of [Single supplie.]

Whereas ye see this one word [was] serues them all in that they require but one congruitie and sence.

Yet hath this figure of [Single supply] another propertie, occa­sioning [Page 137] him to change now and then his name: by the order of his supplie, for if it be placed in the forefront of all the seuerall clauses whom he is to serue as a common seruitour, then is he called by the Greeks Prozeugma, by vs the Ringleader: Prozeugma, or the Ringleader. thus

Where ye see this one word [perst] placed in the foreward, sa­tisfieth both in sence & congruitie all those other clauses that fol­lowe him.

And if such word of supplie be placed in the middle of all such clauses as he serues: it is by the Greeks called Mezozeugma, Mezozeugma or the Middle mar­cher. by vs the [Middlemarcher] thus:

Where ye see this word [weares] serues one clause before him, and two clauses behind him, in one and the same sence and con­gruitie. And in this verse,

Where this word [talke] serues the clause before and also be­hind. But if such supplie be placed after all the clauses, and not be­fore nor in the middle, Hypozeugma, or the Rerewarder. then is he called by the Greeks Hypozeug­ma, and by vs the [Rerewarder] thus:

Where ye see this word [fled from me] serue all the three clauses requiring but one congruitie & sence. But if such want be in sun­drie clauses, and of seuerall congruities or sence, and the supply be made to serue them all, it is by the figure Sillepsis, Sillepsis, or the Double supply. whom for that respect vve call the [double supplie] conceiuing, and, as it were, com­prehending vnder one, a supplie of two natures, and may be like­ned to the man that serues many masters at once, being of strange Countries or kinreds, as in these verses, where the lamenting wi­dow shewed the Pilgrim the graues in which her husband & chil­dren lay buried.

Where ye see one verbe singular supplyeth the plurall and sin­gular, and thus

Where ye see a third person supplie himselfe and a first person. And thus,

Viz. to show. Where ye see the moode Indicatiue supply him selfe and an Infinitiue. And the like in these other.

Viz. [to show.] Thus much for the congruitie, now for the sence. One wrote thus of a young man, who slew a villaine that had killed his father, and rauished his mother.

Where ye see this word [requite] serue a double sence: that is to say, to reuenge, and to satisfie. For the parents iniurie was reuen­ged, and the duetie of nature performed or satisfied by the childe. But if this supplie be made to sundrie clauses, or to one clause sun­drie times iterated, and by seuerall words, so as euery clause hath his owne supplie: Hypozeuxis. or the Substitute. then is it called by the Greekes Hypozeuxis, we call him the substitute after his originall, and is a supplie with ite­ration, as thus:

Here [went to the king] and [said to the king] be but one clause iterated with words of sundrie supply. Or as in these verses fol­lowing.

[Page 139]Here [my Ladie gaue] and [my Ladie vvist] be supplies with ite­ration, by vertue of this figure.

Ye haue another auricular figure of defect, and is when we be­gin to speake a thing, and breake of in the middle way, as if either it needed no further to be spoken of, or that we were ashamed, or afraide to speake it out. It is also sometimes done by way of threat­ning, and to shew a moderation of anger. The Greekes call him Aposiopesis. I, the figure of silence, or of interruption, indifferently. Aposiopesis. or the Figure of silēce

If we doo interrupt our speech for feare, this may be an exam­ple, where as one durst not make the true report as it was, but staid halfe way for feare of offence, thus:

If it be for shame, or that the speaker suppose it would be inde­cent to tell all, then thus: as he that said to his sweete hart, whom he checked for secretly whispering with a suspected person.

If it be for anger or by way of manace or to show a moderatiō of wrath as the graue and discreeter sort of men do, then thus.

Thinking to haue said further viz. I will punish you.

If it be for none of all these causes but vpon some sodaine oc­casion that moues a man to breake of his tale, then thus.

This figure is fit for phantasticall heads and such as be sodaine or lacke memorie. I know one of good learning that greatly ble­misheth his discretion with this maner of speach: for if he be in the grauest matter of the world talking, he will vpon the sodaine for the flying of a bird ouerthwart the way, or some other such sleight cause, interrupt his tale and neuer returne to it againe.

Ye haue yet another maner of speach purporting at the first blush a defect which afterward is supplied the, Greekes call him Prolepsis, we the Propounder, or the Explaner which ye will: Prolepsis. or the Propounder. be­cause he workes both effectes, as thus, where in certaine verses we [Page 140] describe the triumphant enter-view of two great Princesses thus.

Here ye see the first proposition in a sort defectiue and of im­perfect sence, till ye come by diuision to explane and enlarge it, but if we should follow the originall right, we ought rather to call him the forestaller, for like as he that standes in the market way, and takes all vp before it come to the market in grosse and sells it by retaile, so by this maner of speach our maker setts down before all the matter by a brief proposition, and afterward explanes it by a diuision more particularly.

By this other example it appeares also.

CHAP. XII.

TO all their speaches which wrought by disorder the Greekes gaue a general name [Hiperbaton] as much to say as the [tres­passer] and because such disorder may be committed many wayes it receiueth sundry particulars vnder him, Hiperbaton, or the Trespasser. whereof some are onely proper to the Greekes and Latines and not to vs, other some ordi­narie in our maner of speaches, but so foule and intolerable as I will not seeme to place them among the figures, but do raunge thē as they deserue among the vicious or faultie speaches.

Parenthesis. or the Insertour.Your first figure of tollerable disorder is [Parenthesis] or by an English name the [Insertour] and is when ye will seeme for larger information or some other purpose, to peece or graffe in the mid­dest of your tale an vnnecessary parcell of speach, which neuerthe­lesse [Page 141] may be thence without any detriment to the rest. The figure is so common that it needeth none example, neuerthelesse be­cause we are to teache Ladies and Gentlewomen to know their schoole points and termes appertaining to the Art, we may not refuse to yeeld examples euen in the plainest cases, as that of mai­ster Diars very aptly.

Also in our Eglogue intituled Elpine, which we made being but eightene yeares old, to king Edvvard the sixt a Prince of great hope, we surmised that the Pilot of a ship answering the King, be­ing inquisitiue and desirous to know all the parts of the ship and tackle, what they were, & to what vse they serued, vsing this inser­tion or Parenthesis.

And so proceedes to answere the kings question?

This insertion is very long and vtterly impertinent to the prin­cipall matter, and makes a great gappe in the tale, neuerthelesse is no disgrace but rather a bewtie and to very good purpose, but you must not vse such insertions often nor to thick, nor those that bee very long as this of ours, for it will breede great confusion to haue the tale so much interrupted.

Ye haue another manner of disordered speach, when ye mis­place your words or clauses and set that before which should be behind, & è conuerso, we call it in English prouerbe, Histeron proteron, or the Preposterous. the cart before the horse, the Greeks call it Histeron proteron, we name it the Pre­posterous, and if it be not too much vsed is tollerable inough, and many times scarse perceiueable, vnlesse the sence be thereby made very absurd: as he that described his manner of departure from his mistresse, said thus not much to be misliked.

For I tooke my leaue and kist her: And yet I cannot well say whether a man vse to kisse before hee take his leaue, or take his [Page 142] leaue before he kisse, or that it be all one busines. It seemes the ta­king leaue is by vsing some speach, intreating licence of departure: the kisse a knitting vp of the farewell, and as it were a testimoni­all of the licence without which here in England one may not pre­sume of courtesie to depart, let yong Courtiers decide this contro­uersie. One describing his landing vpon a strange coast, sayd thus preposterously.

Whereas he should haue said by good order.

For one must be on land ere he can clime. And as another said:

Whereas the bearing is before the bringing vp. All your other figures of disorder because they rather seeme deformities then bewties of language, for so many of them as be notoriously vnde­cent, and make no good harmony, I place them in the Chapter of vices hereafter following.

CHAP. XIIII.

YOur figures auricular that worke by surplusage, such of them as be materiall and of importaunce to the sence or bewtie of your language, I referre them to the harmonicall speaches of ora­tours among the figures rhetoricall, as be those of repetition, and iteration or amplification. All other sorts of surplusage, I accompt rather vicious then figuratiue, & therefore not melodious as shal­be remembred in the chapter of viciosities or faultie speaches.

CHAP. XV.

Enallage. or the Figure of ex­change.YOur figures that worke auricularly by exchange, were more obseruable to the Greekes and Latines for the brauenesse of their language, ouer that ours is, and for the multiplicitie of their Grammaticall accidents, or verball affects, as I may terme them, that is to say, their diuers cases, moodes, tenses, genders, with varia­ble terminations, by reason whereof, they changed not the very word, but kept the word, and changed the shape of him onely, v­sing one case for another, or tense, or person, or gender, or number, or moode. We, hauing no such varietie of accidents, haue little or [Page 143] no vse of this figure. They called it Enallage.

But another sort of exchange which they had, and very prety, Hipallage. or the Changeling. we doe likewise vse, not changing one word for another, by their accidents or cases, as the Enallage: nor by the places, as the [Prepo­sterous] but changing their true construction and application, whereby the sence is quite peruerted and made very absurd: as, he that should say, for tell me troth and lie not, lie me troth and tell not. For come dine vvith me and stay not, come stay vvith me and dine not.

A certaine piteous louer, to moue his mistres to compassion, wrote among other amorous verses, this one.

For, mine woes before your eyes, spoken to th'intent to winne fauour in her sight.

But that was pretie of a certaine sorrie man of law, that gaue his Client but bad councell, and yet found fault with his fee, and said: my fee, good frend, hath deserued better coūsel. Good master, quoth the Client, if your selfe had not said so, I would neuer haue beleeued it: but now I thinke as you doo. The man of law percei­uing his error, I tell thee (quoth he) my coūsel hath deserued a bet­ter fee. Yet of all others was that a most ridiculous, but very true exchange, which the yeoman of London vsed with his Sergeant at the Mace, who said he would goe into the countrie, and make merry a day or two, while his man plyed his busines at home: an example of it you shall finde in our Enterlude entituled Lustie London: the Sergeant, for sparing of hors-hire, said he would goe with the Carrier on foote. That is not for your worship, saide his yeoman, whereunto the Sergeant replyed.

The yeoman thinking it good manner to soothe his Sergeant, said againe,

Ye see a notorious exchange of the construction, and applica­tion of the words in this: I vvot vvhat I meane; and I meane vvhat I vvot, and in the other, company the knaue Carrier, and carrie a knaue in your company. The Greekes call this figure [Hipallage] [Page 144] the Latins Submutatio, we in our vulgar may call him the [vnder­change] but I had rather haue him called the [Changeling] nothing at all sweruing from his originall, and much more aptly to the purpose, and pleasanter to beare in memory: specially for our La­dies and pretie mistresses in Court, for whose learning I write, be­cause it is a terme often in their mouthes, and alluding to the opi­nion of Nurses, who are wont to say, that the Fayries vse to steale the fairest children out of their cradles, and put other ill fauoured in their places, which they called chāgelings, or Elfs: so, if ye mark, doeth our Poet, or maker play with his wordes, vsing a wrong construction for a right, and an absurd for a sensible, by manner of exchange.

CHAP. XVI.

Omoioteleton, or the Like loose.TThe Greekes vsed a manner of speech or writing in their proses, that went by clauses, finishing in words of like tune, and might be by vsing like cases, tenses, and other points of conso­nance, which they called Omoioteleton, and is that wherin they nee­rest approched to our vulgar ryme, and may thus be expressed.

Or thus if we speake in prose and not in meetre.

The craking Scotts as the Cronicle reportes at a certaine time made this bald rime vpon the English-men.

[Page 145]Which is no perfit rime in deede, but clauses finishing in the self same tune: for a rime of good simphonie should not conclude his concords with one & the same terminant sillable, as less, less, less, but with diuers and like terminants, as les, pres, mes, as was before declared in the chapter of your cadences, and your clauses in prose should neither finish with the same nor with the like ter­minants, but with the contrary as hath bene shewed before in the booke of proportions; yet many vse it otherwise, neglecting the Poeticall harmonie and skill. And th'Earle of Surrey with Syr Thomas Wyat the most excellēt makers of their time, more perad­uenture respecting the fitnesse and ponderositie of their wordes then the true cadence or simphonie, were very licencious in this point. We call this figure following the originall, the [like loose] alluding to th'Archers terme who is not said to finish the feate of his shot before he giue the loose, and deliuer his arrow from his bow, in which respect we vse to say marke the loose of a thing for marke the end of it.

Ye do by another figure notably affect th'eare when ye make euery word of the verse to begin with a like letter, Parimion, or the Figure of like letter. as for example in this verse written in an Epithaphe of our making.

It is a figure much vsed by our common rimers, and doth well if it be not too much vsed, for then it falleth into the vice which shalbe hereafter spoken of called Tautologia.

Ye haue another sort of speach in a maner defectiue because it wants good band or coupling, Asyndeton, or the Loose langage. and is the figure [Asyndeton] we call him [loose language] and doth not a litle alter th'eare as thus.

Caesar the Dictator vpon the victorie hee obteined against Pharnax king of Bithinia shewing the celeritie of his conquest, wrate home to the Senate in this tenour of speach no lesse swift and speedy then his victorie.

Meaning thus I was no sooner come and beheld them but the victorie fell on my side.

[Page 146]The Prince of Orenge for his deuise of Armes in banner dis­played against the Duke of Alua and the Spaniards in the Low-countrey vsed the like maner of speach.

It is a figure to be vsed when we will seeme to make hast, or to be earnest, and these examples with a number more be spoken by the figure of [lose language.]

Polisindeton, or the Coople clause.Quite contrary to this ye haue another maner of construction which they called [Polisindeton] we may call him the [couple clause] for that euery clause is knit and coupled together with a coniunctiue thus.

So might the Poesie of Caesar haue bene altered thus.

One wrote these verses after the same sort.

Ye haue another maner of speach drawen out at length and go­ing all after one tenure and with an imperfit sence till you come to the last word or verse which cōcludes the whole premisses with a perfit sence & full periode, Irmus, or the Long loose. the Greeks call it Irmus, I call him the [long loose] thus appearing in a dittie of Sir Thomas Wyat where he describes the diuers distempers of his bed.

Ye see here how ye can gather no perfection of sence in all this [Page 147] dittie till ye come to the last verse in these wordes my bed I thee forsake. And in another Sonet of Petrarcha which was thus En­glished by the same Sir Thomas Wyat.

Here all the whole sence of the dittie is suspended till ye come to the last three wordes, then do I loue againe, which finisheth the song with a full and perfit sence.

When ye will speake giuing euery person or thing besides his proper name a qualitie by way of addition whether it be of good or of bad it is a figuratiue speach of audible alteration, Epitheton, or the Qualifier. so is it also of sence as to say.

Or thus commending the Isle of great Brittaine.

Or as we sang of our Soueraigne Lady giuing her these Attri­butes besides her proper name.

But if we speake thus not expressing her proper name Eliza­beth, videl.

Then is it not by Epitheton or figure of Attribution but by the figures Antonomasia, or Periphrasis.

Ye haue yet another manner of speach when ye will seeme to make two of one not thereunto constrained, which therefore we call the figure of Twynnes, the Greekes Endiadis thus. Endiadis, or the Figure of Twinnes.

[Page 148]For [your lowring lookes.] And as one of our ordinary rimers said.

In stead, of [fortunes frowning face.] One praysing the Neapo­litans for good men at armes, said by the figure of Twynnes thus.

Where ye see this figure of Twynnes twise vsed, once when he said horses and barbes for barbd horses: againe when he saith with venim and with dartes for venimous dartes.

CHAP. XVI.

THe eare hauing receiued his due satisfaction by the auricular figures, now must the minde also be serued, with his naturall delight by figures sensible such as by alteration of intendmentes affect the courage, and geue a good liking to the conceit. And first, single words haue their sence and vnderstanding altered and figured many wayes, to wit, by transport, abuse, crosse-naming, new naming, change of name. This will seeme very darke to you, vnlesse it be otherwise explaned more particularly: Metaphora, or the Figure of tran­sporte. and first of Transport. There is a kinde of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so naturall, but yet of some affinitie or conueniencie with it, as to say, I cannot digest your vnkinde words, for I cannot take them in good part: or as the man of law said, I feele you not, for I vnderstand not your case, because he had not his fee in his hand. Or as another said to a mouthy Aduo­cate, why barkest thou at me so sore? Or to call the top of a tree, or of a hill, the crowne of a tree or of a hill: for in deede crowne is the highest ornament of a Princes head, made like a close garland, or els the top of a mans head, where the haire windes about, and be­cause such terme is not applyed naturally to a tree, or to a hill, but [Page 149] is transported from a mans head to a hill or tree, therefore it is called by metaphore, or the figure of transport. And three causes moues vs to vse this figure, one for necessitie or want of a better word, thus:

Here for want of an apter and more naturall word to declare the drie temper of the earth, it is said to thirst & to reioyce, which is onely proper to liuing creatures, and yet being so inuerted, doth not so much swerue from the true sence, but that euery man can easilie conceiue the meaning thereof.

Againe, we vse it for pleasure and ornament of our speach, as thus in an Epitaph of our owne making, to the honourable me­morie of a deere friend, Sir Iohn Throgmorton, knight, Iustice of Chester, and a man of many commendable vertues.

Here these words, rered, ouerthrowen, and lodged, are inuerted, & metaphorically applyed, not vpon necessitie, but for ornament one­ly, afterward againe in these verses.

In these verses the inuersion or metaphore, lyeth in these words, saw, harbourd, run: which naturally are applyed to liuing things, & not to insensible: as, the sunne, or the night: & yet they approch so neere, & so cōueniently, as the speech is thereby made more com­mendable. Againe, in moe verses of the same Epitaph, thus.

[Page 150]In which verses ye see that these words, source, shop, flud, sugred, are inuerted from their owne signification to another, not altoge­ther so naturall, but of much affinitie with it.

Then also do we it sometimes to enforce a sence and make the word more significatiue: as thus,

These examples I haue the willinger giuē you to set foorth the nature and vse of your figure metaphore, which of any other be­ing choisly made, is the most commendable and most common.

Catachresis, or the Figure of abuseBut if for lacke of naturall and proper terme or worde we take another, neither naturall nor proper and do vntruly applie it to the thing which we would seeme to expresse, and without any iust inconuenience, it is not then spoken by this figure Metaphore or of inuersion as before, but by plaine abuse, as he that bad his man go into his library and fet him his bowe and arrowes, for in deede there was neuer a booke there to be found, or as one should in re­proch say to a poore man, thou raskall knaue, where raskall is pro­perly the hunters terme giuen to young deere, leane & out of sea­son, and not to people: or as one said very pretily in this verse.

Whereas this worde lent is properly of mony or some such o­ther thing, as men do commonly borrow, for vse to be repayed a­gaine, and being applied to loue is vtterly abused, and yet very commendably spoken by vertue of this figure. For he that loueth and is not beloued againe, hath no lesse wrong, than he that len­deth and is neuer repayde.

Metonimia, or the Misnamer.Now doth this vnderstanding or secret conceyt reach many times to the only nomination of persons or things in their names, as of men, or mountaines, seas, countries and such like, in which re­spect the wrōg naming, or otherwise naming of them then is due, carieth not onely an alteration of sence but a necessitie of intend­ment figuratiuely, as when we cal loue by the name of Venus, flesh­ly lust by the name of Cupid, bicause they were supposed by the auncient poets to be authors and kindlers of loue and lust: Vul­cane for fire, Ceres for bread: Bacchus for wine by the same rea­son; also if one should say to a skilfull craftesman knowen for a [Page 151] glutton or common drunkard, that had spent all his goods on riot and delicate fare.

It is ment, his trauaile and arte made him wealthie, his riotous life had made him a beggar: and as one that boasted of his house­keeping, said that neuer a yeare passed ouer his head, that he drank not in his house euery moneth foure tonnes of beere, & one hogs­head of wine, meaning not the caskes or vessels, but that quantitie which they conteyned. These and such other speaches, where ye take the name of the Author for the thing it selfe; or the thing cō ­teining, for that which is contained, & in many other cases do as it were wrong name the person or the thing. So neuerthelesse as it may be vnderstood, it is by the figure metonymia, or misnamer.

And if this manner of naming of persons or things be not by way of misnaming as before, but by a conuenient difference, Antonomasia, or the Surnamer. and such as is true or esteemed and likely to be true, it is then called not metonimia, but antonomasia, or the Surnamer, (not the misna­mer, which might extend to any other thing aswell as to a person) as he that would say: not king Philip of Spaine, but the Westerne king, because his dominiō lieth the furdest West of any Christen prince: and the French king the great Vallois, because so is the name of his house, or the Queene of England, The maiden Queene, for that is her hiest peculiar among all the Queenes of the world, or as we said in one of our Partheniades, the Bryton mayde, because she is the most great and famous mayden of all Brittayne: thus,

So did our forefathers call Henry the first, Beauclerke, Edmund Ironside, Richard coeur de lion: Edward the Confessor, and we of her Maiestie Elisabeth the peasible.

Then also is the sence figuratiue when we deuise a new name to any thing consonant, as neere as we can to the nature thereof, Onomatopeia, or the New namer. as to say: flashing of lightning, clashing of blades, clinking of fetters, chinking of mony: & as the poet Virgil said of the sounding a trum­pet, ta-ra-tant, taratantara, or as we giue special names to the voi­ces of dombe beasts, as to say, a horse neigheth, a lyō brayes, a swine [Page 152] grunts, a hen cackleth, a dogge howles, and a hundreth mo such new names as any man hath libertie to deuise, so it be fittie for the thing which he couets to expresse.

Epitheton. or the Quallifier o­therwise the fi­gure of Attri­bation.Your Epitheton or qualifier, whereof we spake before, placing him among the figures auricular, now because he serues also to al­ter and enforce the sence, we will say somewhat more of him in this place, and do conclude that he must be apt and proper for the thing he is added vnto, & not disagreable or repugnant, as one that said: darke disdaine, and miserable pride, very absurdly, for disdaine or disdained things cannot be said darke, but rather bright and cleere, because they be beholden and much looked vpon, and pride is rather enuied then pitied or miserable, vnlesse it be in Christian charitie, which helpeth not the terme in this case. Some of our vul­gar writers take great pleasure in giuing Epithets and do it almost to euery word which may receiue them, and should not be so, yea though they were neuer so propre and apt, for sometimes wordes suffered to go single, do giue greater sence and grace than words quallified by attributions do.

But the sence is much altered & the hearers conceit strangly en­tangled by the figure Metalepsis, Metalepsis. or the Farrefet. which I call the farfet, as when we had rather fetch a word a great way off thē to vse one nerer hād to expresse the matter aswel & plainer. And it seemeth the deuiser of this figure, had a desire to please women rather then men: for we vse to say by manner of Prouerbe: things farrefet and deare bought are good for Ladies: so in this manner of speach we vse it, leaping ouer the heads of a great many words, we take one that is furdest off, to vtter our matter by: as Medea cursing hir first ac­quaintance with prince Iason, who had very vnkindly forsaken her, said:

Where she might aswell haue said, woe worth our first mee­ting, or woe worth the time that Iason arriued with his ship at my fathers cittie in Colchos, when he tooke me away with him, & not so farre off as to curse the mountaine that bare the pinetree, that made the mast, that bare the sailes, that the ship sailed with, which caried her away. A pleasant Gentleman came into a Ladies nur­sery, [Page 153] and saw her for her owne pleasure rocking of her young child in the cradle, and sayd to her:

Gods passion hourson said she, would thou haue me beare mo children yet, no Madame quoth the Gentleman, but I would haue you liue long, that ye might the better pleasure your friends, for his meaning was that as euery cradle signified a new borne childe, & euery child the leasure of one yeares birth, & many yeares a lōg life: so by wishing her to rocke many cradels of her owne, he wished her long life. Virgill said:

Thus in English.

By stubble the Poet vnderstoode yeares, for haruests come but once euery yeare, at least wayes with vs in Europe. This is spoken by the figure of farre-fet. Metalepsis.

And one notable meane to affect the minde, Emphasis. or the Renforcer. is to inforce the sence of any thing by a word of more than ordinary efficacie, and neuertheles is not apparant, but as it were, secretly implyed, as he that said thus of a faire Lady.

And by a very euill man thus.

Whereas if he had said thus, O gratious, courteous and beautifull woman: and, O sinfull and wretchedman, it had bene all to one effect, yet not with such force and efficacie, to speake by the denomina­tiue, as by the thing it selfe.

As by the former figure we vse to enforce our sence, so by ano­ther we temper our sence with wordes of such moderation, as in appearaunce it abateth it but not in deede, and is by the figure Liptote, which therefore I call the Moderator, Liptote. or the Moderatour. and becomes vs many times better to speake in that sort quallified, than if we spake it by more forcible termes, and neuertheles is equipolent in sence, thus.

[Page 154]Meaning in deede that he loued him very well and dearely, and yet the words doe not expresse so much, though they purport so much. Or if you would say, I am not ignorant, for I know well i­nough. Such a man is no foole, meaning in deede that he is a very wise man.

Paradiastole, or the Curry fauell.But if such moderation of words tend to flattery, or soothing, or excusing, it is by the figure Paradiastole, which therfore nothing improperly we call the Curry-fauell, as when we make the best of a bad thing, or turne a signification to the more plausible sence: as, to call an vnthrift, a liberall Gentleman: the foolish-hardy, valiant or couragious: the niggard, thriftie: a great riot, or outrage, an youthfull pranke, and such like termes: moderating and abating the force of the matter by craft, and for a pleasing purpose, as ap­peareth by these verses of ours, teaching in what cases it may com­mendably be vsed by Courtiers.

Meiosis, or the Disabler.But if you diminish and abbase a thing by way of spight or mal­lice, as it were to depraue it, such speach is by the figure Meiosis or the disabler spoken of hereafter in the place of sententious figures.

Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.But if ye abase your thing or matter by ignorance or errour in the choise of your word, then is it by vicious maner of speach cal­led Tapmosis, whereof ye shall haue examples in the chapter of vices hereafter folowing.

Synecdoche, or the Figure of quick conceite.Then againe if we vse such a word (as many times we doe) by which we driue the hearer to conceiue more or lesse or beyond or otherwise then the letter expresseth, and it be not by vertue of the former figures Metaphore and Abase and the rest, the Greeks then call it Synecdoche, the Latines sub intellectio or vnderstanding, for by part we are enforced to vnderstand the whole, by the whole part, by many things one thing, by one, many, by a thing precedent, a thing consequent, and generally one thing out of another by ma­ner of contrariety to the word which is spoken, aliudex alio, which because it seemeth to aske a good, quick, and pregnant capacitie, and is not for an ordinarie or dull wit so to do, I chose to call him the figure not onely of conceit after the Greeke originall, but also of quick conceite. As for example we will giue none because we [Page 155] will speake of him againe in another place, where he is ranged a­mong the figures sensable apperteining to clauses.

CHAP. XVIII.

AS by the last remembred figures the sence of single wordes is altered, so by these that follow is that of whole and entier speach: and first by the Courtly figure Allegoria, which is when we speake one thing and thinke another, and that our wordes and our meanings meete not. The vse of this figure is so large, and his vertue of so great efficacie as it is supposed no man can pleasantly vtter and perswade without it, but in effect is sure neuer or very seldome to thriue and prosper in the world, that cannot skilfully put in vre, in somuch as not onely euery common Courtier, but also the grauest Counsellour, yea and the most noble and wisest Prince of them all are many times enforced to vse it, by example (say they) of the great Emperour who had it vsually in his mouth to say, Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare. Of this figure there­fore which for his duplicitie we call the figure of [false semblant or dissimulation] we will speake first as of the chief ringleader and captaine of all other figures, either in the Poeticall or orato­rie science.

And ye shall know that we may dissemble, Allegoria, or the Figure of false semblant. I meane speake o­therwise then we thinke, in earnest aswell as in sport, vnder couert and darke termes, and in learned and apparant speaches, in short sentences, and by long ambage and circumstance of wordes, and finally aswell when we lye as when we tell truth. To be short eue­ry speach wrested from his owne naturall signification to another not altogether so naturall is a kinde of dissimulation, because the wordes beare contrary countenaunce to th'intent. But properly & in his principall vertue Allegoria is when we do speake in sence translatiue and wrested from the owne signification, neuerthelesse applied to another not altogether contrary, but hauing much cōueniencie with it as before we said of the metaphore: as for ex­ample if we should call the common wealth, a shippe; the Prince a Pilot, the Counsellours mariners, the stormes warres, the calme [Page 156] and [hauen] peace, this is spoken all in allegorie: and because such inuersion of sence in one single worde is by the figure Metaphore, of whom we spake before, and this manner of inuersion exten­ding to whole and large speaches, it maketh the figure allegorie to be called a long and perpetuall Metaphore. A noble man after a whole yeares absence from his ladie, sent to know how she did, and whether she remayned affected toward him as she was when he left her.

To whom she answered in allegorie other two verses:

Meaning, that her loue was so stedfast and cōstant toward him as no time or occasion could alter it. Ʋirgill in his shepeherdly poemes called Eglogues vsed as rusticall but fit allegorie for the purpose thus:

Which I English thus:

As much to say, leaue of now, yee haue talked of the matter inough: for the shepheards guise in many places is by opening cer­taine sluces to water their pastures, so as when they are wet inough they shut them againe: this application is full Allegoricke.

Ye haue another manner of Allegorie not full, but mixt, as he that wrate thus:

I call him not a full Allegorie, but mixt, bicause he discouers withall what the cloud, storme, waue, and the rest are, which in a full allegorie should not be discouered, but left at large to the readers iudgement and coniecture.

We dissemble againe vnder couert and darke speaches, when [Page 157] we speake by way of riddle (Enigma) of which the sence can hardly be picked out, but by the parties owne assoile, as he that said: Enigma. or the Riddle.

Meaning it by the ise which is made of frozen water, the same being molten by the sunne or fire, makes water againe.

My mother had an old womā in her nurserie, who in the winter nights would put vs forth many prety ridles, whereof this is one:

The good old Gentlewoman would tell vs that were children how it was meant by a furd glooue. Some other naughtie body would peraduenture haue construed it not halfe so mannerly. The riddle is pretie but that it holdes too much of the Cachempha­ton or foule speach and may be drawen to a reprobate sence.

We dissemble after a sort, when we speake by cōmon prouerbs, Parimia, or Prouerb. or, as we vse to call them, old said sawes, as thus:

Meaning by the first, that the young learne by the olde, either to be good or euill in their behauiours: by the second, that he is not to be counted a wise man, who being in authority, and hauing the administration of many good and great things, will not serue his owne turne and his friends whilest he may, & many such pro­uerbiall speeches: as, Totnesse is turned French, for a strange altera­tion: Skarborow warning, for a sodaine commandement, allowing no respect or delay to bethinke a man of his busines. Note neuer­thelesse a diuersitie, for the two last examples be prouerbs, the two first prouerbiall speeches.

Ye doe likewise dissemble, when ye speake in derision or moc­kerie, & that may be many waies: as sometime in sport, sometime in earnest, and priuily, and apertly, and pleasantly, and bitterly: Ironia, or the Drie mock. but first by the figure Ironia, which we call the drye mock: as he that said to a bragging Ruffian, that threatened he would kill and slay, no doubt you are a good man of your hands: or, as it was said by [Page 158] a French king, to one that praide his reward, shewing how he had bene cut in the face at a certain battell fought in his seruice: ye may see, quoth the king, what it is to runne away & looke backwards. And as Alphonso king of Naples, said to one that profered to take his ring when he washt before dinner, this wil serue another well: meaning that the Gentlem [...] had another time takē thē, & because the king forgot to aske for them, neuer restored his ring againe.

Sarcasmus. or the Bitter taunt.Or when we deride with a certaine seueritie, we may call it the bitter taunt [Sarcasmus] as Charles the fift Emperour aunswered the Duke of Arskot, beseeching him recompence of seruice done at the siege of Renty, against Henry the French king, where the Duke was taken prisoner, and afterward escaped clad like a Colli­ar. Thou wert taken, quoth the Emperour, like a coward, and sca­pedst like a Colliar, wherefore get thee home and liue vpon thine owne. Or as king Henry the eight said to one of his priuy cham­ber, who sued for Sir Anthony Rowse, a knight of Norfolke, that his Maiestie would be good vnto him, for that he was an ill begger. Quoth the king againe, if he be ashamed to beg, we are ashamed to geue. Or as Charles the fift Emperour, hauing taken in battaile Iohn Frederike Duke of Saxon, with the Lantgraue of Hessen and others: this Duke being a man of monstrous bignesse and corpu­lence, after the Emperor had seene the prisoners, said to those that were about him, I haue gone a hunting many times, yet neuer tooke I such a swine before.

Asteismus. or the Merry scoffe. otherwise The ciuill iest.Or when we speake by manner of pleasantery, or mery skoffe, that is, by a kinde of mock, whereof the sence is farrefet, & with­out any gall or offence. The Greekes call it [Asteismus] we may terme it the ciuill iest, because it is a mirth very full of ciuilitie, and such as the most ciuill men doo vse. As Cato said to one that had geuen him a good knock on the head with a long peece of tim­ber he bare on his shoulder, and then bad him beware: what (quoth Cato) wilt thou strike me againe? for ye know, a warning should be geuen before a man haue receiued harme, and not after. And as king Edward the sixt, being of young yeres, but olde in wit, saide to one of his priuie chamber, who sued for a pardon for one that was condemned for a robberie, telling the king that it was but a small trifle, not past sixteene shillings matter which he had taken: [Page 159] quoth the king againe, but I warrant you the fellow was sorrie it had not bene sixteene pound: meaning how the malefactors in­tent was as euill in that trifle, as if it had bene a greater summe of money. In these examples if ye marke there is no griefe or offence ministred as in those other before, and yet are very wittie, and spoken in plaine derision.

The Emperor Charles the fift was a man of very few words, and delighted little in talke. His brother king Ferdinando being a man of more pleasant discourse, sitting at the table with him▪ said, I pray your Maiestie be not so silent, but let vs talke a little. What neede that brother, quoth the Emperor, since you haue words e­nough for vs both.

Or when we giue a mocke with a scornefull countenance as in some smiling sort looking aside or by drawing the lippe awry, or shrinking vp the nose; the Greeks called it Micterismus, Micterismus. or the Fleering frūpe. we may terme it a fleering frumpe, as he that said to one whose wordes he beleued not, no doubt Sir of that. This fleering frumpe is one of the Courtly graces of hicke the scorner.

Or when we deride by plaine and flat contradiction, Antiphrasis. or the Broad floute. as he that saw a dwarfe go in the streete said to his companion that walked with him: See yonder gyant: and to a Negro or woman blacke­moore, in good sooth yeare a faire one, we may call it the broad floute.

Or when ye giue a mocke vnder smooth and lowly wordes as he that hard one call him all to nought and say, thou art sure to be hanged ere thou dye: quoth th'other very soberly. Sir I know your maistership speakes but in iest, Chariētismus. or the Priuy nippe. the Greeks call it (charientismus) we may call it the priuy nippe, or a myld and appeasing mockery: all these be souldiers to the figure allegoria and fight vnder the banner of dissimulation.

Neuerthelesse ye haue yet two or three other figures that smatch a spice of the same false semblant, Hiperbole. or the Ouer reacher, otherwise called the loud lyer. but in another sort and maner of phrase, whereof one is when we speake in the superlatiue and be­yond the limites of credit, that is by the figure which the Greeks call Hiperbole, the Latines Dementiens or the lying figure. I for his immoderate excesse cal him the ouer reacher right with his origi­nall or [lowd lyar] & me thinks not amisse: now whē I speake that [Page 160] which neither I my selfe thinke to be true, nor would haue any o­ther body beleeue, it must needs be a great dissimulation, because I meane nothing lesse then that I speake, and this maner of speach is vsed, when either we would greatly aduaunce or greatly abase the reputation of any thing or person, and must be vsed very dis­creetly, or els it will seeme odious, for although a prayse or other report may be allowed beyōd credit, it may not be beyōd all mea­sure, specially in the proseman, as he that was speaker in a Parlia­ment of king Henry the eights raigne, in his Oration which ye know is of ordinary to be made before the Prince at the first as­sembly of both houses, ould seeme to prayse his Maiestie thus. What should I go about to recite your Maiesties innumerable vertues, euen as much as if I tooke vpon me to number the starres of the skie, or to tell the sands of the sea. This Hyperbole was both vltra fidem and also vltra modum, and therefore of a graue and wise Counsellour made the speaker to be accompted a grosse flatte­ring foole: peraduenture if he had vsed it thus, it had bene better and neuerthelesse a lye too, but a more moderate lye and no lesse to the purpose of the kings commendation, thus. I am not able with any wordes sufficiently to expresse your Maiesties regall vertues, your kingly merites also towardes vs your people and realme are so exceeding many, as your prayses therefore are infinite, your ho­nour and renowne euerlasting: And yet all this if we shall mea­sure it by the rule of exact veritie, is but an vntruth, yet a more cleanely commendation then was maister Speakers. Neuerthelesse as I said before if we fall a praysing, specially of our mistresses ver­tue, bewtie, or other good parts, we be allowed now and then to ouer-reach a little by way of comparison as he that said thus in prayse of his Lady.

And as a certaine noble Gentlewoman lamēting at the vnkind­nesse of her louer said very pretily in this figure.

Then haue ye the figure Periphrasis, holding somewhat of the dissēbler, by reason of a secret intent not appearing by the words, Periphrasis, or the Figure of am­bage. as when we go about the bush, and will not in one or a few words expresse that thing which we desire to haue knowen, but do chose rather to do it by many words, as we our selues wrote of our Soue­raigne Lady thus:

And the rest that followeth, meaning her Maiesties person, which we would seeme to hide leauing her name vnspoken, to the intent the reader should gesse at it: neuerthelesse vpon the matter did so manifestly disclose it, as any simple iudgement might easily perceiue by whom it was ment, that is by Lady Elizabeth, Queene of England and daughter to king Henry the eight, and therein resteth the dissimulation. It is one of the gallantest figures among the poetes so it be vsed discretely and in his right kinde, but many of these makers that be not halfe their craftes maisters, do very often abuse it and also many waies. For if the thing or person they go about to describe by circumstance, be by the writers improuidence otherwise bewrayed, it looseth the grace of a figure, as he that said:

Intending to describe the spring of the yeare, which euery man knoweth of himselfe, hearing the day of March named: the verses be very good the figure nought worth, if it were meant in Peri­phrase, for the matter, that is the season of the yeare which should haue bene couertly disclosed by ambage, was by and by blabbed out by naming the day of the moneth, & so the purpose of the fi­gure disapointed, peraduenture it had bin better to haue said thus:

For now there remaineth for the Reader somewhat to studie and gesse vpon, and yet the spring time to the learned iudgement sufficiently expressed.

The Noble Earle of Surrey wrote thus:

I would faine learne of some good maker, whether the Earle spake this in figure of Periphrase or not, for mine owne opinion I thinke that if he ment to describe the winter season, he would not haue disclosed it so broadly, as to say winter at the first worde, for that had bene against the rules of arte, and without any good iudgement: which in so learned & excellent a personage we ought not to suspect, we say therefore that for winter it is no Periphrase but language at large: we say for all that, hauing regard to the se­cond verse that followeth it is a Periphrase, seeming that thereby he intended to shew in what part of the winter his loues gaue him anguish, that is in the time which we call the fall of the leafe, which begins in the moneth of October, and stands very well with the figure to be vttered in that sort notwithstanding winter be named before, for winter hath many parts: such namely as do not shake of the leafe, nor vncloth the trees as here is mencioned: thus may ye iudge as I do, that this noble Erle wrate excellently well and to purpose. Moreouer, when a maker will seeme to vse circumlocu­tion to set forth any thing pleasantly and figuratiuely, yet no lesse plaine to a ripe reader, then if it were named expresly, and when all is done, no man can perceyue it to be the thing intended. This is a foule ouersight in any writer as did a good fellow, who weening to shew his cunning, would needs by periphrase expresse the realme of Scotland in no lesse then eight verses, and when he had said all, no man could imagine it to be spoken of Scotland: and did besides many other faults in his verse, so deadly belie the mat­ter by his descriptiō, as it would pitie any good maker to heare it.

Synechdoche. or the Figure of quick conceite.Now for the shutting vp of this Chapter, will I remember you farther of that manner of speech which the Greekes call Synecdo­che, and we the figure of [quicke conceite] who for the reasons be­fore [Page 163] alledged, may be put vnder the speeches allegoricall, because of the darkenes and duplicitie of his sence: as when one would tell me how the French king was ouerthrowen at Saint Quintans, I am enforced to think that it was not the king himselfe in person, but the Constable of Fraunce with the French kings power. Or if one would say, the towne of Andwerpe were famished, it is not so to be taken, but of the people of the towne of Andwerp, and this conceit being drawen aside, and (as it were) from one thing to ano­ther, it encombers the minde with a certaine imagination what it may be that is meant, and not expressed: as he that said to a young gentlewoman, who was in her chamber making her selfe vnready. Mistresse will ye geue me leaue to vnlace your peticote, meaning (perchance) the other thing that might follow such vnlasing. In the olde time, whosoeuer was allowed to vndoe his Ladies girdle, he might lie with her all night: wherfore, the taking of a womans maydenhead away, was said to vndoo her girdle. Ʋirgineam dissol­uit zonam, saith the Poet, conceiuing out of a thing precedent, a thing subsequent. This may suffice for the knowledge of this fi­gure [quicke conceit.]

CHAP. XIX.

NOw if our presupposall be true, that the Poet is of all other the most auncient Orator, as he that by good & pleasant per­swasions first reduced the wilde and beastly people into publicke societies and ciuilitie of life, insinuating vnto them, vnder fictions with sweete and coloured speeches, many wholesome lessons and doctrines, then no doubt there is nothing so fitte for him, as to be furnished with all the figures that be Rhetoricall, and such as do most beautifie language with eloquence & sententiousnes. Ther­fore, since we haue already allowed to our maker his auricular fi­gures, and also his sensable, by which all the words and clauses of his meeters are made as well tunable to the eare, as stirring to the minde, we are now by order to bestow vpon him those other fi­gures which may execute both offices, and all at once to beautifie and geue sence and sententiousnes to the whole language at large. So as if we should intreate our maker to play also the Orator, and [Page 164] [...]ther it be to pleade, or to praise, or to aduise, that in all three cases he may vtter, and also perswade both copiously and vehe­mently.

And your figures rhethoricall, besides their remembred ordi­narie vertues, that is, sentētiousnes, & copious amplification, or en­largement of language, doe also conteine a certaine sweet and me­lodious manner of speech, in which respect, they may, after a sort, be said auricular: because the eare is no lesse rauished with their currant tune, than the mind is with their sententiousnes. For the eare is properly but an instrument of conueyance for the minde, to apprehend the sence by the sound. And our speech is made me­lodious or harmonicall, not onely by strayned tunes, as those of Musick, but also by choise of smoothe words: and thus, or thus, marshalling them in their comeliest construction and order, and aswell by sometimes sparing, sometimes spending them more or lesse liberally, and carrying or transporting of them farther off or neerer, setting them with sundry relations, and variable formes, in the ministery and vse of words, doe breede no little alteration in man. For to say truely, what els is man but his minde? which, whosoeuer haue skil to compasse, and make yeelding and flexible, what may not he commaund the body to perfourme? He there­fore that hath vanquished the minde of man, hath made the grea­test and most glorious conquest. But the minde is not assailable vnlesse it be by sensible approches, whereof the audible is of grea­test force for instruction or discipline: the visible, for apprehension of exterior knowledges as the Philosopher saith. Therefore the well tuning of your words and clauses to the delight of the eare, maketh your information no lesse plausible to the minde than to the eare: no though you filled them with neuer so much sence and sententiousnes. Then also must the whole tale (if it tende to per­swasion) beare his iust and reasonable measure, being rather with the largest, than with the scarcest. For like as one or two drops of water perce not the flint stone, but many and often droppings doo: so cannot a few words (be they neuer so pithie or sententi­ous) in all cases and to all manner of mindes, make so deepe an im­pression, as a more multitude of words to the purpose discreetely, and without superfluitie vttered: the minde being no lesse vanqui­shed [Page 165] with large loade of speech, than the limmes are with heauie burden. Sweetenes of speech, sentence, and amplification, are ther­fore necessarie to an excellent Orator and Poet, ne may in no wise be spared from any of them.

And first of all others your figure that worketh by iteration or repetition of one word or clause doth much alter and affect the eare and also the mynde of the hearer, and therefore is counted a very braue figure both with the Poets and rhetoriciens, and this repetition may be in seuen sortes.

Repetition in the first degree we call the figure of Report ac­cording to the Greeke originall, Anaphora, or the Figure of Re­port. and is when we make one word begin, and as they are wont to say, lead the daunce to many verses in sute, as thus.

And this writtē by Sir Walter Raleigh of his greatest mistresse in most excellent verses.

Or as the buffon in our enterlude called Lustie London said very knauishly and like himselfe.

Ye haue another sort of repetition quite contrary to the for­mer when ye make one word finish many verses in sute, Antistrophe, or the Counter turne. and that which is harder, to finish many clauses in the middest of your verses or dittie (for to make them finish the verse in our vulgar it should hinder the rime) and because I do finde few of our English makers vse this figure, I haue set you down two litle ditties which our selues in our yonger yeares played vpon the Antistrophe, for so [Page 166] is the figures name in Greeke: one vpon the mutable loue of a Lady, another vpon the meritorious loue of Christ our Sauiour, thus.

The second vpon the merites of Christes passion toward man­kind, thus,

The Greekes call this figure Antistrophe, the Latines, conuersio, I following the originall call him the counterturne, because he turnes counter in the middest of euery meetre.

Take me the two former figures and put them into one, and it is that which the Greekes call symploche, the Latines complexio, or conduplicatio, Symploche, or the figure of replie. and is a maner of repetition, when one and the selfe word doth begin and end many verses in sute & so wrappes vp both the former figures in one, as he that sportingly complai­ned of his vntrustie mistresse, thus.

The Greekes name this figure Symploche, the Latins Complexio, perchaunce for that he seemes to hold in and to wrap vp the ver­ses by reduplication, so as nothing can fall out. I had rather call him the figure of replie.

Ye haue another sort of repetition when with the worde by which you finish your verse, Anadiplosis, or the Redouble. ye beginne the next verse with the same, as thus:

Or thus:

The Greeks call this figure Anadiplosis, I call him the Redouble as the originall beares.

Ye haue an other sorte of repetition, Epanalepsis, or the Eccho sound. otherwise, the slow return. when ye make one worde both beginne and end your verse, which therefore I call the slow retourne, otherwise the Eccho sound, as thus:

Vnlesse I called him the eccho sound, I could not tell what name to giue him, vnlesse it were the slow returne.

Ye haue another sort of repetition when in one verse or clause of a verse, ye iterate one word without any intermission, as thus: Epizeuxis, the Vnderlay. or Coocko-spel.

And this bemoaning the departure of a deere friend.

And that of Sir Walter Raleighs very sweet.

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, [Page 168] 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 in the former verses, Maryne, Maryne, without any intermission at all.

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 intermissiō by inserting one or two words betweene, as in a most excellent dittie written by Sir Walter Raleigh these two closing verses:

And this spoken in common Prouerbe.

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.

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:

And an other that did the like in the beginning of his verse, thus:

These repetitiōs 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.

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 [Page 169] 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 originall sence of 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 name, 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 C [...]pronimus, 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 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.

Quoth the nurse.

Or as one replyed to his mistresse charging him with some dis­loyaltie towards her.

Here the words proue and reproue, excuse and accuse, do plea­santly [Page 170] 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.

Then haue ye a figure which the Latines call Traductio, and I the tranlacer: Traductio, or 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,

Or as one who much gloried in his owne wit, whom Persius taxed in a verse very pithily and pleasantly, thus.

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,

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.

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, Antipophora, or Figure of re­sponce. 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.

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.

Metrodorus the Philosopher Stoick was of a contrary opinion reuersing all the former suppositions against Crates, thus.

Edvvard 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.

Syneciosis, 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.

Or thus.

In this figure of the Crosse-couple we wrate for a forlorne louer complaining of his mistresse crueltie these verses among other.

Ye haue another figure which by his nature we may call the Rebound, Atanaclasis. or the Rebounde. 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.

Or thus better because married & marred be differēt in one letter.

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.

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

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 proceede 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, Clymax. or the Marching 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 fortune came to great estate and dignitie.

Or as Ihean de Mehune the French Poet.

Antimetauole or the Counterchāge.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.

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.

Or thus.

Or as the Philosopher Musonius vvrote.

A wittie fellow in Rome wrate vnder the Image of Caesar the Dictator these two verses in Latine, which because they are spokē by this figure of Counterchaunge I haue turned into a couple of English verses very well keeping the grace of the figure.

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 man should haue many at once, and a great number goe without that were as able men, said thus by Counterchaunge.

Againe:

Yee haue another figure much like to the Sarcasmus, Insultatio, or the Disdainefull. 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 choose to name him the Reprochfull 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 very disdainefully.

Or as the poet Iuuenall reproched the couetous Merchant, who for lucres sake passed on no perill either by land or sea, thus:

Ye haue another figure very pleasant and fit for amplification, Antitheton, or the The renconter. 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 a scholler in Oxford they called euery such one Iohannes ad oppositum.

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.

[Page 176]Maister Diar in this quarelling figure.

Isocrates 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 cōmendable.

In this quarrelling figure we once plaid this merry Epigrame of an importune and shrewd wife, thus:

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 whan Medea excusing her great crueltie vsed in the murder of her owne children which she had by Iason, said:

Or as another wrote very commendably.

Cato vnderstāding 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.

And as a great Princesse aunswered her seruitour, who distrus­ting in her fauours toward him, praised his owne constancie in these verses.

To whome she in this figure repeting his words:

The figure of exclamation, Ecphonisis. or the Outcry. 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.

Or as Gascoine wrote very passionatly and well to purpose.

Petrarche in a sonet which Sir Thomas Wiat Englished excel­lently well, said in this figure by way of imprecation and obte­station: thus,

And so forth, &c.

We vse sometimes to proceede all by single words, without a­ny close or coupling, Brachiologa, or the Cutted comma 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.

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.

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.

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

[Page 179]When so euer we multiply our speech by many words or clau­ses of one sence, the Greekes call it Sinonimia, as who would say, Sinonimia, or the Figure of store. 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.

Or if it be in single words, then thus.

Ye see that all these words, face, lookes, fauour, features, visage, countenance, are in sence but all one. Which store, neuerthelesse, doeth much beautifie and inlarge the matter. So said another.

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

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, Metanoia, or the Penitent. 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 [Page 180] 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.

And in another Parthemiade thus insinuating her Maiesties great constancy in refusall of all marriages offred her, thus:

Which may imploy rigour and cruelty, than correcteth it thus.

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

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.

Another in his first proposition giuing a very faint cōmenda­tion to the Courtiers life, weaning to make him amends, made it worser by a second proposition, thus:

And an other speaking to the incoragement of youth in studie and to be come excellent in letters and armes, said thus:

Our poet in his short ditties, Epithonema. or the Surclose. 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 with 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 of Prince Eneas his successe and fortunes concluded with this close.

In English thus:

Sir Philip Sidney very pretily closed vp a dittie in this sort.

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.

As who would say her owne ouermuch lenitie and goodnesse, 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.

In English thus:

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:

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 euery word that is spoken is one of more weight then another.

And as we lamented the crueltie of an inexorable and vnfaithfull mistresse.

Where ye see how she is charged first with a fault, then with a a secret sinne, afterward with a foule forfet, last of all with a most cruell & bloudy deede. And thus againe in a certaine louers com­plaint made to the like effect.

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.

After the Auancer followeth the abbaser working by wordes and sentences of extenuation or diminution. Meiosis. or the Disabler. 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.

It may be also 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.

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 that 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 [Page 184] 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 a 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.

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 apper­teining to this figure, the [Disabler] more ordinary in other lan­guages than in our vulgar.

This figure of retire holds part with the propounder of which we spake before (prolepsis) because of the resumption of a former proposition vttered in generalitie to explane the same better by a particular diuision. Epanodis, or the figure of Retire. 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 [Page 185] Greeke name the [Resounde] or the [retire] for this word [ [...]] serues both sences resound and retire. The vse of this figure, is seen in this dittie following,

Then haue ye a maner of speach, Dialisis, or the Dismem­brer. 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.

Or as one that entreated for a faire young maide who was ta­ken by the watch in London and carried to Bridewell to be pu­nished.

Or as another pleaded his deserts with his mistresse.

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, Merismus. or the Distributer. and is when we may conueniently vtter a matter in one [Page 186] entier speach or proposition and will rather do it peecemeale and by distributiō of euery part for amplification sake, as for exāple 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 circūstances, 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.

All which might haue bene said in these two verses.

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.

And then concludes thus.

Where ye see that all the parts of her commendation which were partitularly remembred in twenty verses before, are wrapt vp in the two verses of this last part, videl.

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.

Where he might haue said as much in these words: when vice abounds, and vertue decayeth in Albion, then &c. And as another said,

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.

The Greeke Poets who made musicall ditties to be song to the lute or harpe, Epimone, or the Loueburden. 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,

Many times our Poet is caried by some occasion to report of a thing that is maruelous, Paradoxon, or the Wondrer. and then he will seeme not to speake it simply but with some signe of admiration, as in our enterlude cal­led the Woer.

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 quātitie of salt marshes, lying neere vnto Capua shore.

Not much vnlike the vvondrer haue ye another figure called the doubtfull, because oftentimes we will seeme to cast perils, Aporia, or the Doubtfull. and make doubt of 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.

This manner of speech is vsed when we will not seeme, Epitropis, or the Figure of Re­ference. 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:

The fine and subtill perswader when his intent is to sting his [Page 190] 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, Par [...]sia, or the Licentious. whereby his licentiousnes may be the better borne withall, as he that said:

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 pol­licie 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 noble women, of a matter somewhat in honour touching the Sex.

Maister Gorge in this figure, said very sweetly.

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'otherside, Paramologia, or the figure of Ad­mittance. 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 Ladie [...] faire but crueltie.

[Page 191]In many cases we are driuen for better perswasion to tell the cause that mooues vs to say thus or thus: Etiologia, or the Reason rend or the Tell cause. 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 [...] called it Spitewed, or wedspite. Master Secretary Wilson geuing 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 alwayes 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 [Tel cause] 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.

And this.

And in these verses.

[Page 192]And in this Disticque.

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.

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 vnkinde speeches which he had past of her, thus.

And againe in these,

Speaking before of the figure [Synecdoche] wee called him [Page 193] [Quicke conceit] because he inured in a single word onely by way of intendment or large meaning, Noema, or the Figure of close cōceit. 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 Gyfford, who had married the Marques sister, and all her life time could 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, ô 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 a liue.

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.

The Logician vseth a definition to expresse the truth or nature of euery thing by his true kinde and difference, Orismus, or the Definer of 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 [Page 194] things, egernesse is an appetite in base and small matters.

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, Procatalepsis, or the presumptu­ous, otherwise the figure of Presupposall. 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.

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 slightly 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 cōmon saying is, will say nay and take it.

Commoratio, or the figure of abodeIt 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 vpon 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 therof.

Now as arte and good pollicy in perswasion bids vs to abide & not to stirre from the point of our most aduantage, Metastasis, or the flitting figure. or the Remoue. 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 [Page 195] before was called the figure of aboade.

Euen so againe, Parecnasis, or the Stragler. as it is wisdome for a perswader to tarrie and make his aboad as long as he may conueniently without tedious­nes 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 allusiō 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.

Occasion offers many times that our maker as an oratour, Expeditio, or the speedie dispat­cher. 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 to 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 downe 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.

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 [Page 196] 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 affectiō, 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.

And in the eighteene Partheniade thus.

&c. Concluding.

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 coun­sell or subiect, a captaine to his souldier, a souldiar to his captaine, a man to a woman, and contrariwise: in which report we must al­waies 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 [Page 197] 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 warre to the hazard of our person hardly obteined, our young sonne without any peril at all, for litle 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.

In waightie causes and for great purposes, Gnome, or the Director. 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.

And that which our soueraigne Lady wrate in defiance of for­tune.

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

Arte and good pollicie moues vs many times to be earnest in our speach, Sinathrismus. or the Heaping figure 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 [Page 198] Latines called it Congeries and we the heaping figure, as he that said

Or thus.

And thus by maister Edvvard Diar, vehement swift & passio­natly.

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 ( Minerua) 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 recapitulation.

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 [Page 199] 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 we in our triumphals, speaking long to the Queenes Maiestie, vpō the sodaine we burst out in an exclamation to Phe­bus, seeming to draw in a new matter, thus.

And so returned againe to the first matter.

The matter and occasion leadeth vs many times to describe and set foorth many things, Hypotiposis, or the counterfait representation. 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.

And these be things that a poet or maker is woont to describe sometimes as true or naturall, Prosopo­graphia. 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 [Page 200] personages: namely Achilles and Thersites, according to the truth and not by fiction. And as our poet Chaucer doth in his Canter­bury tales set forth the Sumner, Pardoner, Manciple, and the rest of the pilgrims, most naturally and pleasantly.

Prosopopeia. or the Counterfait in personation.But if ye wil faine any person with such features, qualities & cō ­ditiōs, or if ye wil attribute any humane quality, as reason or speech to dōbe creatures or other insensible things, & do study (as one may say) to giue thē a humane person, it is not Prosopographia, but Pro­sopopeia, because it is by way of fictiō, & 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 moralitie is taught.

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.

Topographia. or the Counterfait place.And if this descriptiō 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 Gryfyll.

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 lieth in feat and actiuitie: we call it then the counterfait 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.

As well to a good maker and Poet as to an excellent perswa­der in prose, the figure of Similitude is very necessary, Omiosis. or Resemblance. 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 conceits, I will set them all 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 generall re­semblance, or bare similitude, which may be thus spoken.

[Page 202]And in this other likening the forlorne louer to a striken deere.

And in this of ours where we liken glory to a shadow.

Againe in a ditty to a mistresse of ours, where we likened the cure of Loue to Achilles launce.

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 my selfe thus:

Againe in these likening a wise man to the true louer.

And in this resembling the learning of an euill man to the seedes sowen in barren ground.

And in these likening the wise man to an idiot.

Againe, for a louer, whose credit vpon some report had bene shaken, he prayeth better opinion by similitude.

And in this working by resemblance in a kinde of dissimilitude betweene a father and a master.

And in these, likening the wise man to the Giant, the foole to the Dwarfe.

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 representatiō of the thing he describes and painteth in his table. So we commen­ding her Maiestie for 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 couragi­ous then the Lion, more bewtifull then the Angell. These are our verses in the end of the seuenth Partheniade.

And this maner of resemblaunce is not onely performed by likening of liuely creatures one to another, but also of any other naturall thing, bearing a proportion of similitude, as to liken yea­low 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.

And of her lips.

[Page 205]And of her eyes.

And of her breasts.

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

But whensoeuer by your similitude ye will seeme to teach any moralitie or good lesson by speeches misticall and darke, Parabola. or Resemblance misticall. or farre fette, 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 dricksie 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.

Finally, if in matter of counsell or perswasion we will seeme to liken one case to another, such as passe ordinarily in mans affaires, Paradigma, or a resemblance by example. 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 expedition to Asia did thus, so did Hanniball comming into Spaine, so did Caesar [Page 206] 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 1. restablish Baliol rightfull owner of the crowne of Scotlād 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 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 misliked, these were the verses.

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.

Exargasia. or The Gorgious.FOr the glorious lustre it setteth vpon our speech and language, the Greeks call it [Exargasia] the Latine [Expolitio] a terme [Page 207] transferred from these polishers of marble or porphirite, who af­ter it is rough hewen & reduced to that fashiō 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 intēt: so as I doubt whether I may terme it a figure, or rather a masse of many figuratiue speaches, applied to the bew­tifying of our tale or argumēt. In a worke of ours intituled Philo­calia we haue 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 maintayning 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 beyng 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 ignorāt 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 sayd 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.

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 haue strained our muse to shew the vse and application of this figure, and of all others.

CHAP. XXI.

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 al­wayes intolerable 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 [Page 209] sometimes, or passe without any great 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.

THe foulest vice in language is to speake barbarously: this terme grew by the great pride of the Greekes and Latines, Barbarismus. or Forrein speech whē 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, isterday, 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, [Page 210] 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 somewhat deeper, and many of them haue said that it 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 of 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, twise 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 occasiō they say, when the Arabians which were had in chase came to stay and settle them selues 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.

Solecismus. or Incongruitie.Your next intollerable vice is solecismus or incongruitie, as whē we speake false 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.

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 themselues among the ignorant the better learned.

[Page 211]Another of your intollerable vices is that which the Greekes call Soraismus, Soraismus. or The mingle mangle. & we may call the [mingle mangle] as whē 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.

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 iniurious dealing (our sayd maker not be­ing ashamed to vse these French wordes freddon, egar, superbous, fi­landing, celest, calabrois, thebanois 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.

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

For I will shake or quiuer my fingers, for so in French is freddon, and in another verse.

This word egar is as much to say as to wander or stray out of [Page 212] the way, which in our English is not receiued, nor these wordes calabrois, thebanois, but rather calabrian, thebā [filanding sisters] for the spinning sisters: this man deserues to be endited of pety larce­ny for pilfring other mens deuises from them & conuerting them to his owne vse, for in deede as I would wish euery inuētour which is the very Poet to receaue the prayses of his inuention, so would I not haue a trāslatour be ashamed to be acknowen of his transla­tion.

Cacosintheton or the Misplacer.Another of your intollerable vices is ill disposition or placing of your words in a clause or sentence: as when you will place your adiectiue after your substantiue, thus: Mayde faire, vvidovv riche, priest holy, and such like, which though the Latines did admit, yet our English did not, as one that said ridiculously.

All these remembred faults be intolerable and euer vndecent.

Cacemphaton. or the 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 vvith you, which in deed 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,

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 rime too many like sounding words together.

[Page 213]Ye haue another manner of composing your metre nothing commendable, specially if it be too much vsed, Tautologia, or the figure of selfe saying. and is whē our ma­ker takes too much delight to fill his verse with wordes begin­ning all with a letter, as an English rimer that said:

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:

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.

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.

Your misplacing and preposterous placing is not all one in be­hauiour of language, for the misplacing is alwaies intollerable, Histeron, pro­teron. or the Preposterous. 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:

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:

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.

Ye haue another vicious speech which the Greeks call Acyron, [Page 214] we call it the vncouthe, Acyron, or 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.

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.

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:

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 improper or harde Epithets vsed, ye may put them in the number of [vncouths] 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 vtterance, 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 Tāner 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.

For [ I feare me] I shall be hanged, whereat the king laughed a [Page 215] good, not only to see the Tanners vaine feare, but also to heare his ill shapen terme, and gaue him for recōpence 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.

Also the Poet or makers speech becomes vicious and vnplea­sant by nothing more than by vsing too much surplusage: The vice of Surplusage. and this lieth 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. The first sur­plusge the Greekes call Pleonasmus, I call him [too full speech] and is no great fault, as if one should say, I heard it with mine eares, and saw it vvith 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,

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

Another part of surplusage is called Macrologia, Macrologia, or Long language 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.

These clauses (he vvith them and they vvith him) are surplusage, and one of them very impertinent, because it could not otherwise be intended, but that Menelaus, fighting with the Troians, the [Page 216] Troians must of necessitie sight with him.

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, Periergia, or Ouerlabour, o­therwise called the curious. 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 great as ye may suppose.

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 mā 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 whē 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.

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 [Page 217] the towne of S. Quintaines, 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 then spoile it, for he caused it to be defaced and razed flat to the earth, and made it 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 vntruly and iniu­riously by way of abbasement, as another of our bad rymers that very indecently said.

A lewd terme to be giuen to a Princes treasure ( pelfe) and was a little more manerly spoken by Seriant Bendlowes, when in a progresse time comming to salute the Queene in Huntington­shire he said to her Cochman, stay thy cart good fellow, stay thy cart, that I may speake to the Queene, whereat her Maiestie laughed as she had bene tickled, and all the rest of the company al­though very graciously (as her manner is) she gaue him great thankes and her hand to kisse. These and such other base wordes do greatly disgrace the thing & the speaker or writer: the Greekes call it [Tapinosis] we the [abbaser.]

Others there be that fall into the contrary vice by vsing such bombasted wordes, as seeme altogether farced full of winde, Bomphiologia, or Pompious speech. being a great deale to high and loftie for the matter, whereof ye may finde too many in all popular rymers.

Then haue ye one other vicious speach with which we will fi­nish this Chapter, Amphibologia or the Ambiguous. and is when we speake or write doubtfully and that the sence may be taken two wayes, such ambiguous termes they call Amphibologia, we call it the ambiguous, or figure of sence incertaine, as if one should say Thomas Tayler saw William Tyler dronke, it is indifferent to thinke either th'one or th'other dronke. Thus said a gentleman in our vulgar pretily notwithstanding be­cause he did it not ignorantly, but for the nonce.

No man can tell by this, whether the mistresse or the man, slept or wept: these doubtfull speaches were vsed much in the old times by their false Prophets as appeareth by the Oracles of Delphos and [Page 218] and of the Sybilles prophecies deuised by the religious persons of those dayes to abuse the superstitious people, and to encomber their busie braynes with vaine hope or vaine feare.

Lucianus the merry Greeke reciteth a great number of them, deuised by a coosening companion one Alexander, to get himselfe the name and reputation of the God Aesculapius, and in effect all our old Brittish and Saxon prophesies be of the same sort, that turne them on which side ye will, the matter of them may be veri­fied, neuerthelesse carryeth generally such force in the heades of fonde people, that by the comfort of those blind prophecies many insurrections and rebellions haue bene stirred vp in this Realme, as that of Iacke Straw, & Iacke Cade in Richard the seconds time, and in our time by a seditious fellow in Norffolke calling himself Captaine Ket and others in other places of the Realme lead alto­gether by certaine propheticall rymes, which might be constred two or three wayes as well as to that one whereunto the rebelles applied it, our maker shall therefore auoyde all such ambiguous speaches vnlesse it be when he doth it for the nonce and for some purpose.

CHAP. XXIII.

IN all things to vse decencie, is it onely that giueth euery thing his good grace & without which nothing in mans speach could seeme good or gracious, in so much as many times it makes a bew­tifull figure fall into a deformitie, and on th'other side a vicious speach seeme pleasaunt and bewtifull: this decencie is therfore the line & leuell for al good makers to do their busines by. But herein resteth the difficultie, to know what this good grace is, & wherein it consisteth, for peraduenture it be easier to conceaue then to ex­presse, we wil therfore examine it to the bottome & say: that euery thing which pleaseth the mind or sences, & the mind by the sences as by means instrumētall, doth it for some amiable point or quali­tie that is in it, which draweth them to a good liking and content­ment with their proper obiects. But that cannot be if they disco­uer any illfauorednesse or disproportion to the partes apprehen­siue, [Page 219] as for example, when a sound is either too loude or too low or otherwise confuse, the eare is ill affected: so is th'eye if the cou­lour be sad or not liminous and recreatiue, or the shape of a mem­bred body without his due measures and simmetry, and the like of euery other sence in his proper function. These excesses or de­fectes or confusions and disorders in the sensible obiectes are de­formities and vnseemely to the sence. In like sort the mynde for the things that be his mentall obiectes hath his good graces and his bad, whereof th'one contents him wonderous well, th'other dis­pleaseth him continually, no more nor no lesse then ye see the dis­cordes of musicke do to a well tuned eare. The Greekes call this good grace of euery thing in his kinde, [...], the Latines [de­corum] we in our vulgar call it by a scholasticall terme [decencie] our owne Saxon English terme is [seemelynesse] that is to say, for his good shape and vtter appearance well pleasing the eye, we call it also [comelynesse] for the delight it bringeth comming towardes vs, and to that purpose may be called [pleasant approche] so as eue­ry way seeking to expresse this [...] of the Greekes and decorum of the Latines, we are faine in our vulgar toung to borrow the terme which our eye onely for his noble prerogatiue ouer all the rest of the sences doth vsurpe, and to apply the same to all good, comely, pleasant and honest things, euen to the spirituall obiectes of the mynde, which stand no lesse in the due proportion of rea­son and discourse than any other materiall thing doth in his sen­sible bewtie, proportion and comelynesse.

Now because this comelynesse resteth in the good conformitie of many things and their sundry circumstances, with respect one to another, so as there be found a iust correspondencie betweene them by this or that relation, the Greekes call it Analogie or a con­uenient proportion. This louely conformitie, or proportion, or conueniencie betweene the sence and the sensible hath nature her selfe first most carefully obserued in all her owne workes, then al­so by kinde graft it in the appetites of euery creature working by intelligence to couet and desire: and in their actions to imitate & performe: and of man chiefly before any other creature aswell in his speaches as in euery other part of his behauiour. And this in generalitie and by an vsuall terme is that which the Latines call [Page 220] [decorum.] So albeit we before alleaged that all our figures be but transgressions of our dayly speach, yet if they fall out decently to the good liking of the mynde or eare and to the bewtifying of the matter or language, all is well, if indecently, and to the eares and myndes misliking (be the figure of it selfe neuer so commendable) all is amisse, the election is the writers, the iudgemēt is the worlds, as theirs to whom the reading apperteineth. But since the actions of man with their circumstances be infinite, and the world like­wise replenished with many iudgements, it may be a question who shal haue the determination of such controuersie as may arise whether this or that action or speach be decent or indecent: and verely it seemes to go all by discretion, not perchaunce of euery one, but by a learned and experienced discretion, for otherwise seemes the decorum to a weake and ignorant iudgement, then it doth to one of better knowledge and experience: which sheweth that it resteth in the discerning part of the minde, so as he who can make the best and most differences of things by reasonable and wittie distinction is to be the fittest iudge or sentencer of [decen­cie.] Such generally is the discreetest man, particularly in any art the most skilfull and discreetest, and in all other things for the more part those that be of much obseruation and greatest expe­rience. The case then standing that discretion must chiefly guide all those businesse, since there be sundry sortes of discretion all vn­like, euen as there be men of action or art, I see no way so fit to en­able a man truly to estimate of [decencie] as example, by whose veritie we may deeme the differences of things and their propor­tions, and by particular discussions come at length to sentence of it generally, and also in our behauiours the more easily to put it in execution. But by reason of the sundry circumstances, that mans affaires are as it were wrapt in, this [decencie] comes to be ve­ry much alterable and subiect to varietie, in so much as our speach asketh one maner of decencie, in respect of the person who speakes: another of his to whom it is spoken: another of whom we speake: another of what we speake, and in what place and time and to what purpose. And as it is of speach, so of al other our behauiours. We wil therefore set you down some few examples of euery cir­cumstance how it alters the decencie of speach or action. And [Page 221] by these few shal ye be able to gather a number more to confirme and establish your iudgement by a perfit discretion.

This decencie, so farfoorth as apperteineth to the considerati­on of our art, resteth in writing, speech and behauiour. But because writing is no more then the image or character of speech, they shall goe together in these our obseruations. And first wee wil sort you out diuers points, in which the wise and learned men of times past haue noted much decency or vndecencie, euery man ac­cording to his discretion, as it hath bene said afore: but wherein for the most part all discreete men doe generally agree, and varie not in opinion, whereof the examples I will geue you be worthie of remembrance: & though they brought with them no doctrine or institution at all, yet for the solace they may geue the readers, after such a rable of scholastical precepts which be tedious, these reports being of the nature of matters historicall, they are to be embraced: but olde memories are very profitable to the mind, and serue as a glasse to looke vpon and behold the euents of time, and more exactly to skan the trueth of euery case that shall happen in the affaires of man, and many there be that haply doe not obserue euery particularitie in matters of decencie or vndecencie: and yet when the case is tolde them by another man, they commonly geue the same sentence vpon it. But yet whosoeuer obserueth much, shalbe counted the wisest and discreetest man, and whosoeuer spends all his life in his owne vaine actions and conceits, and ob­serues no mans else, he shal in the ende prooue but a simple man. In which respect it is alwaies said, one man of experience is wiser than tenne learned men, because of his long and studious obserua­tion and often triall.

And your decencies are of sundrie sorts, according to the many circumstances accompanying our writing, speech or behauiour, so as in the very sound or voice of him that speaketh, there is a de­cencie that becommeth, and an vndecencie that misbecōmeth vs, which th'Emperor Anthonine marked well in the Orator Philiseus, who spake before him with so small and shrill a voice as the Emperor was greatly annoyed therewith, and to make him shor­ten his tale, said, by thy beard thou shouldst be a man, but by thy voice a woman.

[Page 222] Phauorinus the Philosopher was counted very wise and well learned, but a little too talkatiue and full of words: for the which Timocrates reprooued him in the hearing of one Polemon. That is no wonder quoth Polemon, for so be all women. And besides, Phauorinus being knowen for an Eunuke or gelded man, came by the same nippe to be noted as an effeminate and degenerate person.

And there is a measure to be vsed in a mans speech or tale, so as it be neither for shortnesse too darke, nor for length too tedious. Which made Cleomenes king of the Lacedemonians geue this vn­pleasant answere to the Ambassadors of the Samiens, who had tolde him a long message from their Citie, and desired to know his pleasure in it. My maisters (saith he) the first part of your tale was so long, that I remember it not, which made that the second I vnderstoode not, and as for the third part I doe nothing well al­low of. Great princes and graue counsellers who haue little spare leisure to hearken, would haue speeches vsed to them such as be short and sweete.

And if they be spoken by a man of account, or one who for his yeares, profession or dignitie should be thought wise & reuerend, his speeches & words should also be graue, pithie & sententious, which was well noted by king Antiochus, who likened Hermoge­nes the famous Orator of Greece, vnto these fowles in their moul­ting time, when their feathers be sick, and be so loase in the flesh that at any little rowse they can easilie shake them off: so saith he, can Hermogenes of all the men that euer I knew, as easilie deliuer from him his vaine and impertinent speeches and words.

And there is a decencie, that euery speech should be to the ap­petite and delight, or dignitie of the hearer & not for any respect arrogant or vndutifull, as was that of Alexander sent Embassa­dour from the Athenians to th'Emperour Marcus, this man seing th'emperour not so attentiue to his tale, as he would haue had him, said by way of interruption, Caesar I pray thee giue me better eare, it seemest thou knowest me not, nor from whom I came: the Em­perour nothing well liking his bold malapert speech, said: thou art deceyued, for I heare thee and know well inough, that thou art that fine, foolish, curious, sawcie Alexāder that tendest to nothing [Page 223] but to combe & cury thy haire, to pare thy nailes, to pick thy teeth, and to perfume thy selfe with sweet oyles, that no man may abide the sent of thee. Prowde speeches, and too much finesse and curio­sitie is not commendable in an Embassadour. And I haue knowen in my time such of them, as studied more vpon what apparell they should weare, and what countenaunces they should keepe at the times of their audience, then they did vpon th'effect of their errant or commission.

And there is decēcy in that euery mā should talke of the things they haue best skill of, and not in that, their knowledge and lear­ning serueth them not to do, as we are wont to say, he speaketh of Robin hood that neuer shot in his bow: there came a great O­ratour before Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, and vttered much matter to him touching fortitude and valiancie in the warres: the king laughed: why laughest thou quoth the learned mā, since thou art a king thy selfe, and one whom fortitude best becommeth? why said Cleomenes would it not make any body laugh, to heare the swallow who feeds onely vpon flies, to boast of his great pray, and see the eagle stand by and say nothing? if thou wert a man of warre or euer hadst bene day of thy life, I would not laugh to here thee speake of valiancie, but neuer being so, & speaking before an old captaine I can not choose but laugh.

And some things and speaches are decent or indecent in re­spect of the time they be spoken or done in. As when a great clerk presented king Antiochus with a booke treating all of iustice, the king that time lying at the siege of a towne, who lookt vpon the title of the booke, and cast it to him againe: saying, what a diuell tellest thou to me of iustice, now thou seest me vse force and do the best I can to bereeue mine enimie of his towne? euery thing hath his season which is called Oportunitie, and the vnfitnesse or vndecency of the time is called Importunitie.

Sometime the vndeceny ariseth by the indignitie of the word in respect of the speaker himselfe, as whan a daughter of Fraunce and next heyre generall to the crowne (if the law Salique had not barred her) being set in a great chaufe by some harde words giuen her by another prince of the bloud, said in her anger, thou durst not haue said thus much to me if God had giuē me a paire of, &c. [Page 224] and told all out, meaning if God had made her a man and not a woman she had bene king of Fraunce. The word became not the greatnesse of her person, and much lesse her sex, whose chiefe ver­tue is shamefastnesse, which the Latines call Verecundia, that is a naturall feare to be noted with any impudicitie: so as when they heare or see any thing tending that way they commonly blush, & is a part greatly praised in all women.

Yet will ye see in many cases how pleasant speeches and sauou­ring some skurrillity and vnshamefastnes haue now and then a certaine decencie, and well become both the speaker to say, and the hearer to abide, but that is by reason of some other circumstance, as when the speaker himselfe is knowne to be a common iester or buffon, such as take vpon them to make princes merry, or when some occasion is giuen by the hearer to induce such a pleasaunt speach, and in many other cases whereof no generall rule can be giuen, but are best knowen by example: as when Sir Andrew Flamock king Henry the eights standerdbearer, a merry conceyted man and apt to skoffe, waiting one day at the kings heeles when he entred the parke at Greenewich, the king blew his horne, Fla­mock hauing his belly full, and his tayle at commaundement, gaue out a rappe nothing faintly, that the king turned him about and said how now sirra? Flamock not well knowing how to excuse his vnmanerly act, if it please you Sir quoth he, your Maiesty blew one blast for the keeper and I another for his man. The king laughed hartily and tooke it nothing offensiuely: for indeed as the case fell out it was not vndecently spoken by Sir Andrew Fla­mock, for it was the cleaneliest excuse he could make, and a merry implicatiue in termes nothing odious, and therefore a sporting sa­tisfaction to the kings mind, in a matter which without some such merry answere could not haue bene well taken. So was Flamocks action most vncomely, but his speech excellently well becōming the occasion.

But at another time and in another like case, the same skurril­litie of Flamock was more offensiue, because it was more indecent. As when the king hauing Flamock with him in his barge, passing from Westminster to Greenewich to visite a fayre Lady whom the king loued and was lodged in the tower of the Parke: the [Page 225] king comming within sight of the tower, and being disposed to be merry, said, Flamock let vs rime: as well as I can said Flamock if it please your grace. The king began thus:

Flamock for aunswer: Within this hower, she will, &c. with the rest in so vncleanly termes, as might not now become me by the rule of Decorum to vtter writing to so great a Maiestie, but the king tooke them in so euill part, as he bid Flamock auant varlet, and that he should no more be so neere vnto him. And wherein I would faine learne, lay this vndecencie? in the skurrill and filthy termes not meete for a kings care? perchance so. For the king was a wise and graue man, and though he hated not a faire wo­man, yet liked he nothing well to heare speeches of ribaudrie: as they report of th'emperour Octauian: Licet fuerit ipse incontinentis­simus, fuit tamen incontinente seuerissimus vltor. But the very cause in deed was for that Flamocks reply answered not the kings ex­pectation, for the kings rime commencing with a pleasant and a­morous propositiō: Sir Andrew Flamock to finish it not with loue but with lothsomnesse, by termes very rude and vnciuill, and se­ing the king greatly fauour that Ladie for her much beauty by like or some other good partes, by his fastidious aunswer to make her seeme odious to him, it helde a great disproportion to the kings appetite, for nothing is so vnpleasant to a man, as to be en­countred in his chiefe affection, & specially in his loues, & whom we honour we should also reuerence their appetites, or at the least beare with them (not being wicked and vtterly euill) and whatso­euer they do affect, we do not as becōmeth vs if we make it seeme to them horrible. This in mine opinion was the chiefe cause of the vndecencie and also of the kings offence. Aristotle the great phi­losopher knowing this very well, what time he put Calistenes to king Alexāder the greats seruice gaue him this lesson. Sirra quoth he, ye go now from a scholler to be a courtier, see ye speake to the king your maister, either nothing at all, or else that which pleaseth him, which rule if Calistenes had followed and forborne to crosse the kings appetite in diuerse speeches, it had not cost him so [Page 226] deepely as afterward it did. A like matter of offence fell out be­tweene th'Emperour Charles the fifth, & an Embassadour of king Henry the eight, whō I could name but will not for the great opi­nion the world had of his wisdome and sufficiency in that behalfe, and all for misusing of a terme. The king in the matter of con­trouersie betwixt him and Ladie Catherine of Castill the Empe­rours awnt, found himselfe grieued that the Emperour should take her part and worke vnder hand with the Pope to hinder the diuorce: and gaue his Embassadour commission in good termes to open his griefes to the Emperour, and to expostulat with his Maiestie, for that he seemed to forget the kings great kindnesse and friendship before times vsed with th'Emperour, aswell by dis­bursing for him sundry great summes of monie which were not all yet repayd: as also by furnishing him at his neede with store of men and munition to his warres, and now to be thus vsed he thought it a very euill requitall. The Embassadour for too much animositie and more then needed in the case, or perchance by igno­rance of the proprietie of the Spanish tongue, told the Emperour among other words, that he was Hombre el mas ingrato enel mon­do, the ingratest person in the world to vse his maister so. The Emperour tooke him suddainly with the word, and said: callest thou me ingrato? I tell thee learne better termes, or else I will teach them thee. Th'Embassadour excused it by his commission, and said: they were the king his maisters words, and not his owne. Nay quoth th'Emperour, thy maister durst not haue sent me these words, were it not for that broad ditch betweene him & me, mea­ning the sea, which is hard to passe with an army of reuenge. The Embassadour was cōmanded away & no more hard by the Empe­ror, til by some other means afterward the grief was either pacified or forgotten, & all this inconueniēce grew by misuse of one word, which being otherwise spoken & in some sort qualified, had easily holpen all, & yet th'Embassadour might sufficiently haue satisfied his commission & much better aduaunced his purpose, as to haue said for this word [ye are ingrate,] ye haue not vsed such gratitude towards him as he hath deserued: so ye may see how a word spokē vndecently, not knowing the phrase or proprietie of a language, maketh a whole matter many times miscarrie. In which respect it [Page 227] is to be wished, that none Ambassadour speake his principall cō ­mandements but in his own language or in another as naturall to him as his owne, and so it is vsed in all places of the world sauing in England. The Princes and their commissioners fearing least otherwise they might vtter any thing to their disaduantage, or els to their disgrace: and I my selfe hauing seene the Courts of Fraunce, Spaine, Italie, and that of the Empire, with many inferior Courts, could neuer perceiue that the most noble personages, though they knew very well how to speake many forraine lan­guages, would at any times that they had bene spoken vnto, an­swere but in their owne, the Frenchman in French, the Spaniard in Spanish, the Italian in Italian, and the very Dutch Prince in the Dutch language: whether it were more for pride, or for feare of a­ny lapse, I cannot tell. And Henrie Earle of Arundel being an old Courtier and a very princely man in all his actions, kept that rule alwaies. For on a time passing from England towards Italie by her maiesties licence, he was very honorably enterteined at the Court of Brussels, by the Lady Duches of Parma, Regent there: and sit­ting at a banquet with her, where also was the Prince of Orange, with all the greatest Princes of the state, the Earle, though he could reasonably well speake French, would not speake one French word, but all English, whether he asked any question, or answered it, but all was done by Truchemen. In so much as the Prince of Orange maruelling at it, looked a side on that part where I stoode a beholder of the feast, and sayd, I maruell your Noblemen of England doe not desire to be better languaged in the forraine languages. This word was by and by reported to the Earle. Quoth the Earle againe, tell my Lord the Prince, that I loue to speake in that language, in which I can best vtter my mind and not mistake.

Another Ambassadour vsed the like ouersight by ouerweening himselfe that he could naturally speake the French tongue, where­as in troth he was not skilfull in their termes. This Ambassadour being a Bohemian, sent from the Emperour to the French Court, where after his first audience, he was highly feasted and banquet­ted. On a time, among other, a great Princesse sitting at the table, by way of talke asked the Ambassador whether the Empresse his [Page 228] his mistresse when she went a hunting, or otherwise trauailed a­broad for her solace, did ride a horsback or goe in her coach. To which the Ambassadour answered vnwares and not knowing the French terme, Par ma foy elle cheuauche fort bien, & si en prend grand plaisir. She rides (saith he) very well, and takes great pleasure in it. There was good smiling one vpon another of the Ladies and Lords, the Ambassador wist not whereat, but laughed himselfe for companie. This word Cheuaucher in the French tongue hath a reprobate sence, specially being spoken of a womans riding.

And as rude and vnciuill speaches carry a marueilous great in­decencie, so doe sometimes those that be ouermuch affected and nice: or that doe sauour of ignorance or adulation, and be in the eare of graue and wise persons no lesse offensiue than the other: as when a sutor in Rome came to Tiberius the Emperor and said, I would open my case to your Maiestie, if it were not to trouble your sacred businesse, sacras vestras occupationes as the Historio­grapher reporteth. What meanest thou by that terme quoth the Emperor, say laboriosas I pray thee, & so thou maist truely say, and bid him leaue off such affected flattering termes.

The like vndecencie vsed a Herald at armes sent by Charles the fifth Emperor, to Fraunces the first French king, bringing him a message of defiance, and thinking to qualifie the bitternesse of his message with words pompous and magnificent for the kings ho­nor, vsed much this terme (sacred Maiestie) which was not vsually geuen to the French king, but to say for the most part [Sire] The French king neither liking of his errant, nor yet of his pompous speech, said somewhat sharply, I pray thee good fellow clawe me not where I itch not with thy sacred maiestie, but goe to thy busi­nesse, and tell thine errand in such termes as are decent betwixt e­nemies, for thy master is not my frend, and turned him to a Prince of the bloud who stoode by, saying, me thinks this fellow speakes like Bishop Nicholas, for on Saint Nicholas night commonly the Scholars of the Countrey make them a Bishop, who like a foolish boy, goeth about blessing and preaching with so childish termes, as maketh the people laugh at his foolish counterfaite speeches.

And yet in speaking or writing of a Princes affaires & fortunes there is a certaine Decorum, that we may not vse the same termes [Page 229] in their busines, as we might very wel doe in a meaner persons, the case being all one, such reuerence is due to their estates. As for ex­ample, if an Historiographer shal write of an Emperor or King, how such a day hee ioyned battel with his enemie, and being ouer-laide ranne out of the fielde, and tooke his heeles, or put spurre to his horse and fled as fast as hee could: the termes be not decent, but of a meane souldier or captaine, it were not vnde­cently spoken. And as one, who translating certaine bookes of Ʋirgils Aeneidos into English meetre, said that Aeneas was fayne to trudge out of Troy: which terme became better to be spoken of a beggar, or of a rogue, or a lackey: for so wee vse to say to such maner of people, be trudging hence.

Another Englishing this word of Virgill [fato profugus] called Aeneas [by fate a fugitiue] which was vndecently spoken, and not to the Authours intent in the same word: for whom he studied by all means to auaunce aboue all other men of the world for ver­tue and magnanimitie, he meant not to make him a fugitiue. But by occasion of his great distresses, and of the hardnesse of his desti­nies, he would haue it appeare that Aeneas was enforced to flie out of Troy, and for many yeeres to be a romer and a wandrer a­bout the world both by land and sea [fato profugus] and neuer to find any resting place till he came into Italy, so as ye may euidētly perceiue in this terme [fugitiue] a notable indignity offred to that princely person, and by th'other word (a wanderer) none indigni­tie at all, but rather a terme of much loue and commiseration. The same translatour when he came to these wordes: Insignem pietate virum, tot voluere casus tot adire labores compulit. Hee turned it thus, what moued Iuno to tugge so great a captaine as Aeneas, which word tugge spoken in this case is so vndecent as none other coulde haue bene deuised, and tooke his first origi­nall from the cart, because it signifieth the pull or draught of the oxen or horses, and therefore the leathers that beare the chiefe stresse of the draught, the cartars call them tugges, and so wee vse to say that shrewd boyes tugge each other by the eares, for pull.

Another of our vulgar makers, spake as illfaringly in this verse written to the dispraise of a rich man and couetous. Thou hast a [Page 230] misers minde (thou hast a princes pelfe] a lewde terme to be spo­ken of a princes treasure, which in no respect nor for any cause is to be called pelfe, though it were neuer so meane, for pelfe is pro­perly the scrappes or shreds of taylors and of skinners, which are accompted of so vile price as they be commonly cast out of dores, or otherwise bestowed vpon base purposes: and carrieth not the like reason or decencie, as when we say in reproch of a niggard or vserer, or worldly couetous man, that he setteth more by a little pelfe of the world, than by his credit or health, or conscience. For in comparison of these treasours all the gold or siluer in the world may by a skornefull terme be called pelfe, & so ye see that the rea­son of the decencie holdeth not alike in both cases. Now let vs passe from these examples, to treate of those that concerne the comelinesse and decencie of mans behauiour.

And some speech may be whan it is spoken very vndecent, and yet the same hauing afterward somewhat added to it may become prety and decent, as was the stowte worde vsed by a captaine in Fraunce, who sitting at the lower end of the Duke of Guyses table among many, the day after there had bene a great battaile fough­ten, the Duke finding that this captaine was not seene that day to do any thing in the field, taxed him priuily thus in al the hearings. Where were you Sir the day of the battaile, for I saw ye not? the captaine answered promptly: where ye durst not haue bene: and the Duke began to kindle with the worde, which the Gentleman perceiuing, said spedily: I was that day among the carriages, where your excellencie would not for a thousand crownes haue bene seene. Thus from vndecent it came by a wittie reformation to be made decent againe.

The like hapned on a time at the Duke of Northumberlandes bourd, where merry Iohn Heywood was allowed to sit at the tables end. The Duke had a very noble and honorable mynde alwayes to pay his debts well, and when he lacked money, would not stick to sell the greatest part of his plate: so had he done few dayes be­fore. Heywood being loth to call for his drinke so oft as he was dry, turned his eye toward the cupbord and sayd I finde great misse of your graces standing cups: the Duke thinking he had spoken it of some knowledge that his plate was lately sold, said somewhat [Page 231] sharpely, why Sir will not those cuppes serue as good a man as your selfe. Heywood readily replied. Yes if it please your grace, but I would haue one of them stand still at myne elbow full of drinke that I might not be driuen to trouble your men so often to call for it. This pleasant and speedy reuers of the former wordes holpe all the matter againe, whereupon the Duke became very pleasaunt and dranke a bolle of wine to Heywood, and bid a cup should alwayes be standing by him.

It were to busie a peece of worke for me to tell you of all the partes of decencie and indecency which haue bene obserued in the speaches of man & in his writings, and this that I tell you is rather to solace your eares with pretie conceits after a sort of long scho­lasticall preceptes which may happen haue doubled them, rather then for any other purpose of institutiō or doctrine, which to any Courtier of experience, is not necessarie in this behalfe. And as they appeare by the former examples to rest in our speach and writing: so do the same by like proportion consist in the whole behauiour of man, and that which he doth well and commenda­bly is euer decent, and the contrary vndecent, not in euery mans iudgement alwayes one, but after their seuerall discretion and by circumstance diuersly, as by the next Chapter shalbe shewed.

CHAP. XXIIII.

ANd there is a decēcy to be obserued in euery mans actiō & be­hauiour aswell as in his speach & writing which some perad­uēture would thinke impertinent to be treated of in this booke, where we do but informe the cōmendable fashions of language & stile: but that is otherwise, for the good maker or poet who is in de­cēt speach & good termes to describe all things and with prayse or dispraise to report euery mās behauiour, ought to know the come­linesse of an actiō aswell as of a word & thereby to direct himselfe both in praise & perswasiō or any other point that perteines to the Oratours arte. Wherefore some exāples we will set downe of this maner of decēcy in behauiour leauing you for the rest to our booke which we haue written de Decoro, where ye shall see both partes [Page 232] handled more exactly. And this decencie of mans behauiour as­well as of his speach must also be deemed by discretion, in which regard the thing that may well become one man to do may not become another, and that which is seemely to be done in this place is not so seemely in that, and at such a time decent, but at another time vndecent, and in such a case and for such a purpose, and to this and that end and by this and that euent, perusing all the cir­cumstances with like cōsideration. Therefore we say that it might become king Alexander to giue a hundreth talentes to Anaxa­goras the Philosopher, but not for a beggerly Philosopher to ac­cept so great a gift, for such a Prince could not be impouerished by that expence, but the Philosopher was by it excessiuely to be en­riched, so was the kings action proportionable to his estate and therefore decent, the Philosophers, disproportionable both to his profession and calling and therefore indecent.

And yet if we shall examine the same point with a clearer dis­cretion, it may be said that whatsoeuer it might become king A­lexander of his regal largesse to bestow vpon a poore Philosopher vnasked, that might aswell become the Philosopher to receiue at his hands without refusal, and had otherwise bene some empea­chement of the kings abilitie or wisedome, which had not bene decent in the Philosoper, nor the immoderatnesse of the kinges gift in respect of the Philosophers meane estate made his accep­tance the lesse decent, since Princes liberalities are not measured by merite nor by other mens estimations, but by their owne ap­petits and according to their greatnesse. So said king Alexander very like himselfe to one Perillus to whom he had geuen a very great gift, which he made curtesy to accept, saying it was too much for such a mean person, what quoth the king if it be too much for thy selfe, hast thou neuer a friend or kinsman that may fare the better by it? But peraduenture if any such immoderat gift had bene craued by the Philosopher and not voluntarily offred by the king it had bene vndecent to haue taken it. Euen so if one that standeth vpon his merite, and spares to craue the Princes li­beralitie in that which is moderate and fit for him, doth as vnde­cently. For men should not expect till the Prince remembred it of himselfe and began as it were the gratification, but ought to be [Page 235] put in remembraunce by humble solicitations, and that is dueti­full & decent, which made king Henry th'eight her Maiesties most noble father, and for liberality nothing inferiour to king Alexan­der the great, aunswere one of his priuie chamber, who prayd him to be good & gracious to a certaine old Knight being his seruant, for that he was but an ill begger, if he be ashamed to begge we wil thinke scorne to giue. And yet peraduenture in both these cases, the vndecencie for too much crauing or sparing to craue, might be easily holpen by a decent magnificence in the Prince, as Amazis king of Aegypt very honorably considered, who asking one day for one Diopithus a noble man of his Court, what was become of him for that he had not sene him wait of long time, one about the king told him that he heard say he was sicke and of some conceit he had taken that his Maiestie had but slenderly looked to him, vsing many others very bountifully. I beshrew his fooles head quoth the king, why had he not sued vnto vs and made vs priuie of his want, then added, but in truth we are most to blame our sel­ues, who by a mindeful beneficence without sute should haue sup­plied his bashfulnesse, and forthwith commaunded a great re­ward in money & pension to be sent vnto him, but it hapned that when the kings messengers entred the chamber of Diopithus, he had newly giuen vp the ghost: the messengers sorrowed the case, and Diopithus friends sate by and wept, not so much for Diopithus death, as for pitie that he ouerliued not the comming of the kings reward. Therupon it came euer after to be vsed for a prouerbe that when any good turne commeth too late to be vsed, to cal it Diopi­thus reward.

In Italy and Fraunce I haue knowen it vsed for common pol­licie, the Princes to differre the bestowing of their great liberali­ties as Cardinalships and other high dignities & offices of gayne, till the parties whom they should seeme to gratifie be so old or so sicke as it is not likely they should long enioy them.

In the time of Charles the ninth French king, I being at the Spaw waters, there lay a Marshall of Fraunce called Monsieur de Sipier, to vse those waters for his health, but when the Phisitions had all giuen him vp, and that there was no hope of life in him, came frō the king to him a letters patents of six thousand crownes [Page 234] yearely pension during his life with many comfortable wordes: the man was not so much past remembraunce, but he could say to the messenger trop tard, trop tard, it should haue come before, for in deede it had bene promised long and came not till now that he could not fare the better by it.

And it became king Antiochus, better to bestow the faire Lady Stratonica his wife vpon his sonne Demetrius who lay sicke for her loue and would else haue perished, as the Physitions cunning­ly discouered by the beating of his pulse, then it could become Demetrius to be inamored with his fathers wife, or to enioy her of his guift, because the fathers act was led by discretion and of a fa­therly compassion, not grutching to depart from his deerest pos­session to saue his childes life, where as the sonne in his appetite had no reason to lead him to loue vnlawfully, for whom it had ra­ther bene decent to die, then to haue violated his fathers bed with safetie of his life.

No more would it be seemely for an aged man to play the wan­ton like a child, for it stands not with the conueniency of nature, yet when king Agesilaus hauing a great sort of little children, was one day disposed to solace himself among them in a gallery where they plaied, and tooke a little hobby horse of wood and bestrid it to keepe them in play, one of his friends seemed to mislike his lightnes, ô good friend quoth Agesilaus, rebuke me not for this fault till thou haue children of thine owne, shewing in deede that it came not of vanitie but of a fatherly affectiō, ioying in the sport and company of his little children, in which respect and as that place and time serued, it was dispenceable in him & not indecent.

And in the choise of a mans delights & maner of his life, there is a decencie, and so we say th'old man generally is no fit compa­nion for the young man, nor the rich for the poore, nor the wise for the foolish. Yet in some respects and by discretion it may be o­therwise, as when the old man hath the gouernment of the young, the wise teaches the foolish, the rich is wayted on by the poore for their reliefe, in which regard the conuersation is not indecent.

And Proclus the Philosopher knowing how euery indecencie is vnpleasant to nature, and namely, how vncomely a thing it is for young men to doe as old men doe (at leastwise as young men [Page 235] for the most part doe take it) applyed it very wittily to his pur­pose: for hauing his sonne and heire a notable vnthrift, & deligh­ting in nothing but in haukes and hounds, and gay apparrell, and such like vanities, which neither by gentle nor sharpe admoniti­ons of his father, could make him leaue: Proclus himselfe not onely bare with his sonne, but also vsed it himselfe for company, which some of his frends greatly rebuked him for, saying, ô Pro­clus, an olde man and a Philosopher to play the foole and lasciui­ous more than the sonne. Mary, quoth Proclus, & therefore I do it, for it is the next way to make my sonne change his life, when he shall see how vndecent it is in me to leade such a life, and for him being a yong man, to keepe companie with me being an old man, and to doe that which I doe.

So is it not vnseemely for any ordinarie Captaine to winne the victory or any other auantage in warre by fraud & breach of faith: as Hanniball with the Romans, but it could not well become the Romaines managing so great an Empire, by examples of honour and iustice to doe as Hanniball did. And when Parmenio in a like case perswaded king Alexander to breake the day of his appoint­ment, and to set vpon Darius at the sodaine, which Alexander re­fused to doe, Parmenio saying, I would doe it if I were Alexander, and I too quoth Alexander if I were Parmenio: but it behooueth me in honour to fight liberally with mine enemies, and iustly to o­uercome. And thus ye see that was decent in Parmenios action, which was not in the king his masters.

A great nobleman and Counseller in this Realme was secretlie aduised by his friend, not to vse so much writing his letters in fa­uour of euery man that asked them, specially to the Iudges of the Realme in cases of iustice. To whom the noble man answered, it becomes vs Councellors better to vse instance for our friend, then for the Iudges to sentence at instance: for whatsoeuer we doe require them, it is in their choise to refuse to doe, but for all that the example was ill and dangerous.

And there is a decencie in chusing the times of a mans busines, and as the Spaniard sayes, es tiempo de negotiar, there is a fitte time for euery man to performe his businesse in, & to attēd his affaires, which out of that time would be vndecent: as to sleepe al day and [Page 236] wake al night, and to goe a hunting by torch-light, as an old Earle of Arundel vsed to doe, or for any occasion of little importance, to wake a man out of his sleepe, or to make him rise from his dinner to talke with him, or such like importunities, for so we call euery vnseasonable action, and the vndecencie of the time.

Callicratides being sent Ambassador by the Lacedemonians, to Cirus the young king of Persia to contract with him for money and men toward their warres against the Athenians, came to the Court at such vnseasonable time as the king was yet in the midst of his dinner, and went away againe saying, it is now no time to interrupt the kings mirth. He came againe another day in the af­ter noone, and finding the king at a rere-banquet, and to haue ta­ken the wine somewhat plentifully, turned back againe, saying, I thinke there is no houre fitte to deale with Cirus, for he is euer in his banquets: I will rather leaue all the busines vndone, then doe any thing that shall not become the Lacedemonians: meaning to offer conference of so great importaunce to his Countrey, with a man so distempered by surfet, as hee was not likely to geue him any reasonable resolution in the cause.

One Eudamidas brother to king Agis of Lacedemonia, cōming by Zenocrates schoole and looking in, saw him sit in his chaire, dis­puting with a long hoare beard, asked who it was, one answered, Sir it is a wise man and one of them that searches after vertue, and if he haue not yet found it quoth Eudamidas when will he vse it, that now at this yeares is seeking after it, as who would say it is not time to talke of matters when they should be put in execu­tion, nor for an old man to be to seeke what vertue is, which all his youth he should haue had in exercise.

Another time comming to heare a notable Philosopher dis­pute, it happened, that all was ended euen as he came, and one of his familiers would haue had him requested the Philosopher to beginne againe, that were indecent and nothing ciuill quoth Eu­damidas, for if he should come to me supperlesse when I had sup­ped before, were it seemely for him to pray me to suppe againe for his companie?

And the place makes a thing decent or indecent, in which con­sideration one Euboidas being sent Embassadour into a forraine [Page 237] realme, some of his familiars tooke occasion at the table to praise the wiues and women of that country in presence of their owne husbands, which th'embassadour misliked, and when supper was ended and the guestes departed, tooke his familiars aside, and told them that is was nothing decent in a strange country to praise the women, nor specially a wife before her husbands face, for inconue­niencie that might rise thereby, aswell to the prayser as to the wo­man, and that the chiefe commendation of a chast matrone, was to be knowen onely to her husband, and not to be obserued by straungers and guestes.

And in the vse of apparell there is no litle decency and vnde­cencie to be perceiued, as well for the fashion as the stuffe, for it is comely that euery estate and vocation should be knowen by the differences of their habit: a clarke from a lay man: a gentleman from a yeoman: a souldier from a citizen, and the chiefe of euery degree frō their inferiours, because in confusion and disorder there is no manner of decencie.

The Romaines of any other people most seuere cēsurers of de­cencie, thought no vpper garment so comely for a ciuill man as a long playted gowne, because it sheweth much grauitie & also pu­dicitie, hiding euery member of the body which had not bin plea­sant to behold. In somuch as a certain Proconsull or Legat of theirs dealing one day with Ptolome king of Egipt, seeing him clad in a straite narrow garment very lasciuiously, discouering euery part of his body, gaue him a great checke for it: and said, that vnlesse he vsed more sad and comely garments, the Romaines would take no pleasure to hold amitie with him, for by the wantonnes of his garment they would iudge the vanitie of his mind, not to be wor­thy of their constant friendship. A pleasant old courtier wearing one day in the sight of a great councellour, after the new guise a french cloake skarce reaching to the wast, a long beaked doublet hanging downe to his thies, & an high paire of silke netherstocks that couered all his buttockes and loignes the Councellor marue­led to see him in that sort disguised, and otherwise than he had bin woont to be. Sir quoth the Gentleman to excuse it: if I should not be able whan I had need to pisse out of my doublet, and to do the rest in my netherstocks (vsing the plaine terme) all men would [Page 238] say I were but a lowte, the Councellor laughed hartily at the ab­surditie of the speech, but what would those sower fellowes of Rome haue said trowe ye? truely in mine opinion, that all such persons as take pleasure to shew their limbes, specially those that nature hath cōmanded out of sight, should be inioyned either to go starke naked, or else to resort backe to the comely and modest fashion of their owne countrie apparell, vsed by their old honora­ble auncestors.

And there is a decēcy of apparrel in respect of the place where it is to be vsed: as, in the Court to be richely apparrelled: in the coun­trey to weare more plain & homely garmēts. For who who would not thinke it a ridiculous thing to see a Lady in her milke-house with a veluet gowne, and at a bridall in her cassock of mockado: a Gentleman of the Countrey among the bushes and briers, goe in a pounced dublet and a paire of embrodered hosen, in the Citie to weare a frise Ierkin and a paire of leather breeches? yet some such phantasticals haue I knowen, and one a certaine knight, of all o­ther the most vaine, who commonly would come to the Sessions, and other ordinarie meetings and Commissions in the Countrey, so bedect with buttons and aglets of gold and such costly embro­deries, as the poore plaine men of the Countrey called him (for his gaynesse) the golden knight. Another for the like cause was called Saint Sunday: I thinke at this day they be so farre spent, as either of thē would be content with a good cloath cloake: and this came by want of discretion, to discerne and deeme right of decencie, which many Gentlemen doe wholly limite by the person or de­gree, where reason doeth it by the place and presence: which may be such as it might very well become a great Prince to weare cour­ser apparrell than in another place or presence a meaner person.

Neuerthelesse in the vse of a garment many occasions alter the decencie, sometimes the qualitie of the person, sometimes of the case, otherwhiles the countrie custome, and often the constitution of lawes, and the very nature of vse it selfe. As for example a king and prince may vse rich and gorgious apparell decently, so cannot a meane person doo, yet if an herald of armes to whom a king gi­ueth his gowne of cloth of gold, or to whom it was incident as a fee of his office, do were the same, he doth it decently, because such [Page 239] hath alwaies bene th'allowances of heraldes: but if such herald haue worne out, or sold, or lost that gowne, to buy him a new of the like stuffe with his owne mony and to weare it, is not decent in the eye and iudgement of them that know it.

And the country custome maketh things decent in vse, as in A­sia for all men to weare long gownes both a foot and horsebacke: in Europa short gaberdins, or clokes, or iackets, euen for their vp­per garments. The Turke and Persian to weare great tolibants of ten, fifteene, and twentie elles of linnen a peece vpon their heads, which can not be remooued: in Europe to were caps or hats, which vpon euery occasion of salutation we vse to put of, as a signe of re­uerence. In th'East partes the men to make water couring like wo­men, with vs standing at a wall. With them to congratulat and sa­lute by giuing a becke with the head, or a bende of the bodie, with vs here in England, and in Germany, and all other Northerne parts of the world to shake handes. In France, Italie, and Spaine to em­brace ouer the shoulder, vnder the armes, at the very knees, accor­ding the superiors degree. With vs the wemen giue their mouth to be kissed▪ in other places their cheek, in many places their hand, or in steed of an offer to the hand, to say these words Bezo los ma­nos. And yet some others surmounting in all courtly ciuilitie will say, Los manos & los piedes. And aboue that reach too, there be that will say to the Ladies, Lombra de sus pisadas, the shadow of your steps. Which I recite vnto you to shew the phrase of those courtly seruitours in yeelding the mistresses honour and reuerence.

And it is seen that very particular vse of it selfe makes a matter of much decencie and vndecencie, without any countrey custome or allowance, as if one that hath many yeares worne a gowne shall come to be seen weare a iakquet or ierkin, or he that hath many yeares worne a beard or long haire among those that had done the contrary, and come sodainly to be pold or shauen, it will seeme onely to himselfe, a deshight and very vndecent, but also to all o­thers that neuer vsed to go so, vntill the time and custome haue abrogated that mislike.

So was it here in England till her Maiesties most noble father for diuers good respects, caused his owne head and all his Cour­tiers to be polled and his beard to be cut short. Before that time it [Page 240] was thought more decent both for old men and young to be all shauen and to weare long haire either rounded or square. Now a­gaine at this time, the young Gentlemen of the Court haue taken vp the long haire trayling on their shoulders, and thinke it more decent: for what respect I would be glad to know.

The Lacedemonians bearing long bushes of haire, finely kept & curled vp, vsed this ciuill argument to maintaine that custome. Haire (say they) is the very ornament of nature appointed for the head, which therfore to vse in his most sumptuous degree is come­ly, specially for them that be Lordes, Maisters of men, and of a free life, hauing abilitie & leasure inough to keepe it cleane, and so for a signe of seignorie, riches and libertie, the masters of the Lacede­monians vsed long haire. But their vassals, seruaunts and slaues vsed it short or shauen in signe of seruitude and because they had no meane nor leasure to kembe and keepe it cleanely. It was be­sides combersome to them hauing many businesse to attende, in some seruices there might no maner of filth be falling from their heads. And to all souldiers it is very noysome and a daungerous disauantage in the warres or in any particular combat, which being the most comely profession of euery noble young Gentle­man, it ought to perswade them greatly from wearing long haire. If there be any that seeke by long haire to helpe or to hide an ill featured face, it is in them allowable so to do, because euery man may decently reforme by arte, the faultes and imperfections that nature hath wrought in them.

And all singularities or affected parts of a mās behauiour seeme vndecēt, as for one man to march or iet in the street more stately, or to looke more solēpnely, or to go more gayly & in other coulours or fashioned garmēts then another of the same degree and estate.

Yet such singularities haue had many times both good liking and good successe, otherwise then many would haue looked for. As when Dinocrates the famous architect, desirous to be knowen to king Alexander the great, and hauing none acquaintance to bring him to the kings speech, he came one day to the Court very strangely apparelled in long skarlet robes, his head compast with a garland of Laurell, and his face all to be slicked with sweet oyle, and stoode in the kings chamber, motioning nothing to any man: [Page 241] newes of this stranger came to the king, who caused him to be brought to his presence, and asked his name, and the cause of his repaire to the Court. He aunswered, his name was Dinocrates the Architect, who came to present his Maiestie with a platforme of his owne deuising, how his Maiestie might buylde a Citie vpon the mountaine Athos in Macedonia, which should beare the fi­gure of a mans body, and tolde him all how. Forsooth the breast and bulke of his body should rest vpon such a flat: that hil should be his head, all set with foregrowen woods like haire: his right arme should stretch out to such a hollow bottome as might be like his hand: holding a dish conteyning al the waters that should serue that Citie: the left arme with his hand should hold a valley of all the orchards and gardens of pleasure pertaining thereunto: and either legge should lie vpon a ridge of rocke, very gallantly to behold, and so should accomplish the full figure of a man. The king asked him what commoditie of soyle, or sea, or nauigable riuer lay neere vnto it, to be able to sustaine so great a number of inhabitants. Truely Sir (quoth Dinocrates) I haue not yet conside­red thereof: for in trueth it is the barest part of all the Countrey of Macedonia. The king smiled at it, and said very honourably, we like your deuice well, and meane to vse your seruice in the buil­ding of a Citie, but we wil chuse out a more commodious scituati­on: and made him attend in that voyage in which he conquered Asia and Egypt, and there made him chiefe Surueyour of his new Citie of Alexandria. Thus did Dinocrates singularitie in attire greatly further him to his aduancement.

Yet are generally all rare things and such as breede maruell & admiration somewhat holding of the vndecent, as when a man is bigger & exceeding the ordinary stature of a man like a Giaunt, or farre vnder the reasonable and common size of men, as a dwarfe, and such vndecencies do not angre vs, but either we pittie them or scorne at them.

But at all insolent and vnwoonted partes of a mans behauiour, we find many times cause to mislike or to be mistrustfull, which proceedeth of some vndecency that is in it, as when a man that hath alwaies bene strange & vnacquainted with vs, will suddenly become our familiar and domestick: and another that hath bene [Page 242] alwaies sterne and churlish, wilbe vpon the suddaine affable and curteous, it is neyther a comely sight, nor a signe of any good to­wardes vs. Which the subtill Italian well obserued by the successes thereof, saying in Prouerbe.

Now againe all maner of conceites that stirre vp any vehement passion in a man, doo it by some turpitude or euill and vndecency that is in them, as to make a man angry there must be some iniu­ry or contempt offered, to make him enuy there must proceede some vndeserued prosperitie of his egall or inferiour, to make him pitie some miserable fortune or spectakle to behold.

And yet in euery of these passions being as it were vndecen­cies, there is a comelinesse to be discerned, which some men can keepe and some men can not, as to be angry, or to enuy, or to hate, or to pitie, or to be ashamed decently, that is none otherwise then reason requireth. This surmise appeareth to be true, for Homer the father of Poets writing that famous and most honourable poeme called the Illiades or warres of Troy: made his commēcement the magnanimous wrath and anger of Achilles in his first verse thus: [...]. Sing foorth my muse the wrath of Achilles Peleus sonne: which the Poet would neuer haue done if the wrath of a prince had not beene in some sort comely & allow­able. But when Arrianus and Curtius historiographers that wrote the noble gestes of king Alexander the great, came to prayse him for many things, yet for his wrath and anger they reproched him, because it proceeded not of any magnanimitie, but vpon surfet & distemper in his diet, nor growing of any iust causes, was ex­ercised to the destruction of his dearest friends and familiers, and not of his enemies nor any other waies so honorably as th'others was, and so could not be reputed a decent and comely anger.

So may al your other passions be vsed decently though the ve­ry matter of their originall be grounded vpon some vndecencie, as it is written by a certaine king of Egypt, who looking out of his [Page 243] window, and seing his owne sonne for some grieuous offence, car­ried by the officers of his iustice to the place of execution: he ne­uer once changed his countenance at the matter, though the sight were neuer so full of ruth and atrocitie. And it was thought a de­cent countenance and constant animositie in the king to be so affected, the case concerning so high and rare a peece of his owne iustice. But within few daies after when he beheld out of the same window an old friend and familiar of his, stand begging an almes in the streete, he wept tenderly, remembring their old familiarity and considering how by the mutabilitie of fortune and frailtie of mās estate, it might one day come to passe that he himselfe should fall into the like miserable estate. He therfore had a remorse very comely for a king in that behalfe, which also caused him to giue order for his poore friends plentiful reliefe.

But generally to weepe for any sorrow (as one may doe for pi­tie) is not so decent in a man: and therefore all high minded per­sons, when they cannot chuse but shed teares, wil turne away their face as a countenance vndecent for a man to shew, and so will the standers by till they haue supprest such passiō, thinking it nothing decent to behold such an vncomely countenance. But for Ladies and women to weepe and shed teares at euery little greefe, it is no­thing vncomely, but rather a signe of much good nature & meek­nes of minde, a most decent propertie for that sexe; and therefore they be for the more part more deuout and charitable, and greater geuers of almes than men, and zealous relieuers of prisoners, and beseechers of pardons, and such like parts of commiseration. Yea they be more than so too: for by the common prouerbe, a wo­man will weepe for pitie to see a gosling goe barefoote.

But most certainly all things that moue a man to laughter, as doe these scurrilities & other ridiculous behauiours, it is for some vndecencie that is foūd in them: which maketh it decent for euery man to laugh at them. And therefore when we see or heare a na­tural foole and idiot doe or say any thing foolishly, we laugh not at him: but when he doeth or speaketh wisely, because that is vn­like him selfe: and a buffonne or counterfet foole, to heare him speake wisely which is like himselfe, it is no sport at all, but for such a counterfait to talke and looke foolishly it maketh vs laugh, [Page 244] because it is no part of his naturall, for in euery vncomlinesse there must be a certaine absurditie and disproportion to nature, and the opinion of the hearer or beholder to make the thing ridiculous. But for a foole to talke foolishly or a wiseman wisely, there is no such absurditie or disproportion.

And though at all absurdities we may decently laugh, & when they be no absurdities not decently, yet in laughing is there an vn­decencie for other respectes sometime, than of the matter it selfe, Which made Philippus sonne to the first Christen Emperour, Phi­lippus Arabicus sitting with his father one day in the theatre to be­hold the sports, giue his father a great rebuke because he laughed, saying that it was no comely countenance for an Emperour to bewray in such a publicke place, nor specially to laugh at euery foolish toy: the posteritie gaue the sonne for that cause the name of Philippus Agelastos or without laughter.

I haue seene forraine Embassadours in the Queenes presence laugh so dissolutely at some rare pastime or sport that hath beene made there, that nothing in the world could worse haue becomen them, and others very wise men, whether it haue ben of some plea­sant humour and complexion, or for other default in the spleene, or for ill education or custome, that could not vtter any graue and earnest speech without laughter, which part was greatly discom­mended in them.

And Cicero the wisest of any Romane writers, thought it vn­comely for a man to daunce: saying, Saltantem sobrium vidi nemi­nem. I neuer saw any man daunce that was sober and in his right wits, but there by your leaue he failed, nor our young Courtiers will allow it, besides that it is the most decent and comely de­meanour of all exultations and reioycements of the hart, which is no lesse naturall to man then to be wise or well learned, or sober.

To tell you the decencies of a number of other behauiours, one might do it to please you with pretie reportes, but to the skilfull Courtiers it shalbe nothing necessary, for they know all by expe­rience without learning. Yet some few remembraunces wee will make you of the most materiall, which our selues haue obserued, and so make an end.

It is decent to be affable and curteous at meales & meetings, in [Page 245] open assemblies more solemne and straunge, in place of authoritie and iudgement not familiar nor pleasant, in counsell secret and sad, in ordinary conferences easie and apert, in conuersation simple, in capitulation subtill and mistrustfull, at mournings and burials sad and sorrowfull, in feasts and bankets merry & ioyfull, in hous­hold expence pinching and sparing, in publicke entertainement spending and pompous. The Prince to be sumptuous and magni­ficent, the priuate man liberall with moderation, a man to be in giuing free, in asking spare, in promise slow, in performance spee­dy, in contract circumspect but iust, in amitie sincere, in ennimitie wily and cautelous [ dolus an virtus quis in hoste requirit, saith the Poet] and after the same rate euery sort and maner of businesse or affaire or action hath his decencie and vndecencie, either for the time or place or person or some other circumstaunce, as Priests to be sober and sad, a Preacher by his life to giue good example, a Iudge to be incorrupted, solitarie and vnacquainted with Courti­ers or Courtly entertainements, & as the Philosopher saith Opor­tet iudicē esse rudem & simplicem, without plaite or wrinkle, sower in looke and churlish in speach, contrariwise a Courtly Gentle­man to be loftie and curious in countenaunce, yet sometimes a creeper, and a curry fauell with his superiours.

And touching the person, we say it is comely for a man to be a lambe in the house, and a Lyon in the field, appointing the decen­cie of his qualitie by the place, by which reason also we limit the comely parts of a woman to consist in foure points, that is to be a shrewe in the kitchin, a saint in the Church, an Angell at the bourd, and an Ape in the bed, as the Chronicle reportes by Mi­stresse Shore paramour to king Edward the fourth.

Then also there is a decency in respect of the persons with whō we do negotiate, as with the great personages his egals to be so­lemne and surly, with meaner men pleasant and popular, stoute with the sturdie and milde with the meek, which is a most decent conuersation and not reprochfull or vnseemely, as the prouerbe goeth, by those that vse the contrary, a Lyon among sheepe and a sheepe among Lyons.

Right so in negotiating with Princes we ought to seeke their fauour by humilitie & not by sternnesse, nor to trafficke with thē [Page 246] by way of indent or condition, but frankly and by manner of sub­mission to their wils, for Princes may be lead but not driuen, nor they are to be vanquisht by allegation, but must be suffred to haue the victorie and be relented vnto: nor they are not to be chalenged for right or iustice, for that is a maner of accusation: nor to be char­ged with their promises, for that is a kinde of condemnation: and at their request we ought not to be hardly entreated but easily, for that is a signe of deffidence and mistrust in their bountie and gra­titude: nor to recite the good seruices which they haue receiued at our hāds, for that is but a kind of exprobratiō, but in crauing their bountie or largesse to remember vnto them all their former bene­ficences, making no mētion of our owne merites, & so it is thank­full, and in praysing them to their faces to do it very modestly: and in their commendations not to be excessiue for that is tedi­ous, and alwayes sauours of suttelty more then of sincere loue.

And in speaking to a Prince the voyce ought to be lowe and not lowde nor shrill, for th'one is a signe of humilitie th'other of too much audacitie and presumption. Nor in looking on them seeme to ouerlooke them, nor yet behold them too stedfastly, for that is a signe of impudence or litle reuerence, and therefore to the great Princes Orientall their seruitours speaking or being spoken vnto abbase their eyes in token of lowlines, which behauiour we do not obserue to our Princes with so good a discretion as they do: & such as retire from the Princes presence, do not by & by turne tayle to them as we do, but go backward or sideling for a reasona­ble space, til they be at the wal or chāber doore passing out of sight, and is thought a most decent behauiour to their soueraignes. I haue heard that king Henry th'eight her Maiesties father, though otherwise the most gentle and affable Prince of the world, could not abide to haue any man stare in his face or to fix his eye too steedily vpon him when he talked with them: nor for a common suter to exclame or cry out for iustice, for that is offensiue and as it were a secret impeachement of his wrong doing, as happened once to a Knight in this Realme of great worship speaking to the king. Nor in speaches with them to be too long, or too much af­fected, for th'one is tedious th'other is irksome, nor with lowd ac­clamations to applaude them, for that is too popular & rude and [Page 247] betokens either ignoraunce, or seldome accesse to their presence, or little frequenting their Courts: nor to shew too mery or light a countenance, for that is a signe of little reuerence and is a peece of a contempt.

And in gaming with a Prince it is decent to let him sometimes win of purpose, to keepe him pleasant, & neuer to refuse his gift, for that is vndutifull: nor to forgiue him his losses, for that is ar­rogant: nor to giue him great gifts, for that is either insolence or follie: nor to feast him with excessiue charge for that is both vaine and enuious, & therefore the wise Prince king Henry the seuenth her Maiesties grandfather, if his chaunce had bene to lye at any of his subiects houses, or to passe moe meales then one, he that would take vpon him to defray the charge of his dyet, or of his officers and houshold, he would be maruelously offended with it, saying what priuate subiect dare vndertake a Princes charge, or looke in­to the secret of his expēce? Her Maiestie hath bene knowne often­times to mislike the superfluous expence of her subiects bestowed vpon her in times of her progresses.

Likewise in matter of aduise it is neither decent to flatter him for that is seruile▪ neither to be to rough or plaine with him, for that is daungerous, but truly to Counsell & to admonish, grauely not greuously, sincerely not sourely: which was the part that so greatly commended Cineas Counsellour to king Pirrhus, who kept that decencie in all his perswasions, that he euer preuailed in ad­uice, and carried the king which way he would.

And in a Prince it is comely to giue vnasked, but in a subiect to aske vnbidden: for that first is signe of a bountifull mynde, this of a loyall & confident. But the subiect that craues not at his Princes hand, either he is of no desert, or proud, or mistrustfull of his Princes goodnesse: therefore king Henry th'eight to one that en­treated him to remember one Sir Anthony Rouse with some re­ward for that he had spent much and was an ill beggar: the king aunswered (noting his insolencie,) If he be ashamed to begge, we are ashamed to giue, and was neuerthelesse one of the most libe­rall Princes of the world.

And yet in some Courts it is otherwise vsed, for in Spaine it is thought very vndecent for a Courtier to craue, supposing that it is [Page 248] the part of an importune: therefore the king of ordinarie calleth euery second, third or fourth yere for his Checker roll, and besto­weth his mercedes of his owne meere motion, and by discretiō, ac­cording to euery mans merite and condition.

And in their commendable delights to be apt and accommo­date, as if the Prince be geuen to hauking, hunting, riding of hor­ses, or playing vpon instruments, or any like exercise, the seruitour to be the same: and in their other appetites wherein the Prince would seeme an example of vertue, and would not mislike to be egalled by others: in such cases it is decent their seruitours & sub­iects studie to be like to them by imitation, as in wearing their haire long or short, or in this or that sort of apparrell, such excep­ted as be only fitte for Princes and none els, which were vndecent for a meaner person to imitate or counterfet: so is it not comely to counterfet their voice, or looke, or any other gestures that be not ordinary and naturall in euery common person: and therefore to go vpright or speake or looke assuredly, it is decent in euery man. But if the Prince haue an extraordinarie countenance or manner of speech, or bearing of his body, that for a common seruitour to counterfet is not decent, and therefore it was misliked in the Em­peror Nero, and thought vncomely for him to counterfet Alex­ander the great by holding his head a little awrie, & neerer toward the tone shoulder, because it was not his owne naturall.

And in a Prince it is decent to goe slowly, and to march with leysure, and with a certaine granditie rather than grauitie: as our soueraine Lady and mistresse, the very image of maiestie and mag­nificence, is accustomed to doe generally, vnlesse it be when she walketh apace for her pleasure, or to catch her a heate in the colde mornings.

Neuerthelesse, it is not so decent in a meaner person, as I haue obserued in some counterfet Ladies of the Countrey, which vse it much to their owne derision. This comelines was wanting in Queene Marie, otherwise a very good and honourable Princesse. And was some blemish to the Emperor Ferdinando, a most noble minded man, yet so carelesse and forgetfull of himselfe in that be­halfe, as I haue seene him runne vp a paire of staires so swift and nimble a pace, as almost had not become a very meane man, who [Page 249] had not gone in some hastie businesse.

And in a noble Prince nothing is more decent and welbesee­ming his greatnesse, than to spare foule speeches, for that breedes hatred, and to let none humble suiters depart out of their presence (as neere as may be) miscontented. Wherein her Maiestie hath of all others a most Regall gift, and nothing inferior to the good Prince Titus Ʋespasianus in that point.

Also not to be passionate for small detriments or offences, nor to be a reuenger of them, but in cases of great iniurie, and specially of dishonors: and therein to be very sterne and vindicatiue, for that sauours of Princely magnanimitie: nor to seeke reuenge vpon base and obscure persons, ouer whom the conquest is not glorious, nor the victorie honourable, which respect moued our soueraign Lady (keeping alwaies the decorum of a Princely person) at her first comming to the crowne, when a knight of this Realme, who had very insolently behaued himselfe toward her when she was Lady Elizabeth, fell vpon his knee to her, and besought her pardon: sus­pecting (as there was good cause) that he should haue bene sent to the Tower, she said vnto him most mildly: do you not know that we are descended of the Lion, whose nature is not to harme or pray vpon the mouse, or any other such small vermin?

And with these exāples I thinke sufficient to leaue, geuing you information of this one point, that all your figures Poeticall or Rhethoricall, are but obseruations of strange speeches, and such as without any arte at al we should vse, & cōmonly do, euen by very nature without discipline. But more or lesse aptly and decently, or scarcely, or aboundantly, or of this or that kind of figure, & one of vs more thē another, according to the dispositiō of our nature, cō ­stitutiō of the heart, & facilitie of each mans vtterāce: so as we may conclude, that nature her selfe suggesteth the figure in this or that forme: but arte aydeth the iudgement of his vse and application, which geues me occasion finally and for a full conclusion to this whole treatise, to enforme you in the next chapter how art should be vsed in all respects, and specially in this behalfe of language, and when the naturall is more commendable then the artificiall, and contrariwise.

CHAP. XXV.

ANd now (most excellent Queene) hauing largely said of Po­ets & Poesie, and about what matters they be employed: then of all the commended fourmes of Poemes, thirdly of metricall proportions, such as do appertaine to our vulgar arte: and last of all set forth the poeticall ornament cōsisting chiefly in the beautie and gallantnesse of his language and stile, and so haue apparelled him to our seeming, in all his gorgious habilliments, and pulling him first from the carte to the schoole, and from thence to the Court, and preferred him to your Maiesties seruice, in that place of great honour and magnificence to geue enterteinment to Prin­ces, Ladies of honour, Gentlewomen and Gentlemen, and by his many moodes of skill, to serue the many humors of men thither haunting and resorting, some by way of solace some of serious ad­uise, and in matters aswell profitable as pleasant and honest: Wee haue in our humble conceit sufficiently perfourmed our promise or rather dutie to your Maiestie in the description of this arte, so alwaies as we leaue him not vnfurnisht of one peece that best be­seemes that place of any other, and may serue as a principall good lesson for al good makers to beare cōtinually in mind, in the vsage of this science: which is, that being now lately become a Courtier he shew not himself a craftsman, & merit to be disgraded, & with scorne sent back againe to the shop, or other place of his first facul­tie and calling, but that so wisely & discreetly he behaue himselfe as he may worthily retaine the credit of his place, and profession of a very Courtier, which is in plaine termes, cunningly to be able to dissemble. But (if it please your Maiestie) may it not seeme inough for a Courtier to know how to weare a fether, and set his cappe a flaunt, his chaine en echarpe, a straight buskin al inglesse, a loose alo Turquesque, the cape alla Spaniola, the breech a la Franaeoise, and by twentie maner of new fashioned garments to disguise his body, and his face with as many countenances, whereof it seemes there be many that make a very arte, and studie who can shew himselfe most fine, I will not say most foolish and ridiculous? or perhaps [Page 251] rather that he could dissemble his conceits as well as his counte­nances, so as he neuer speake as he thinkes, or thinke as he speaks, and that in any matter of importance his words and his meaning very seldome meete: for so as I remember it was concluded by vs setting foorth the figure Allegoria, which therefore not imperti­nently we call the Courtier or figure of faire semblant, or is it not perchance more requisite our courtly Poet do dissemble not onely his countenances & cōceits, but also all his ordinary actions of be­hauiour, or the most part of thē, whereby the better to winne his purposes & good aduantages, as now & then to haue a iourney or sicknesse in his sleeue, thereby to shake of other importunities of greater consequence, as they vse their pilgrimages in Fraunce, the Diet in Spaine, the baines in Italy? and when a man is whole to faine himselfe sicke to shunne the businesse in Court, to entertaine time and ease at home, to salue offences without discredite, to win purposes by mediation in absence, which their presence would ey­ther impeach or not greatly preferre, to harken after the popular opinions and speech, to entend to their more priuate solaces, to practize more deepely both at leasure & libertie, & when any pu­blique affaire or other attēpt & counsaile of theirs hath not recea­ued good successe, to auoid therby the Princes present reproofe, to coole their chollers by absence, to winne remorse by lamentable reports, and reconciliation by friends intreatie. Finally by seque­string themselues for a time fro the Court, to be able the freelier & cleerer to discerne the factions and state of the Court and of al the world besides, no lesse then doth the looker on or beholder of a game better see into all points of auauntage, then the player him­selfe? and in dissembling of diseases which I pray you? for I haue obserued it in the Court of Fraunce, not a burning feuer or a plu­risie, or a palsie, or the hydropick and swelling gowte, or any other like disease, for if they may be such as may be either easily discer­ned or quickly cured, they be ill to dissemble and doo halfe hand­somly serue the turne.

But it must be either a dry dropsie, or a megrim or letarge, or a fistule in ano, or some such other secret disease, as the common con­uersant can hardly discouer, and the Phisition either not speedily heale, or not honestly bewray? of which infirmities the scoffing [Page 252] Pasquil wrote, Vlcus vesicae renum dolor in pene scirrus. Or as I haue seene in diuers places where many make thēselues hart whole, whē in deede they are full sicke, bearing it stoutly out to the hazard of their health, rather then they would be suspected of any lothsome infirmity, which might inhibit thē frō the Princes presence, or en­terteinmēt of the ladies. Or as some other do to beare a port of state & plentie when they haue neither penny nor possession, that they may not seeme to droope, and be reiected as vnworthy or insuffi­cient for the greater seruices, or be pitied for their pouertie, which they hold for a marueilous disgrace, as did the poore Squire of Ca­stile, who had rather dine with a sheepes head at home & drinke a cruse of water to it, then to haue a good dinner giuen him by his friend who was nothing ignorant of his pouertie. Or as others do to make wise they be poore when they be riche, to shunne thereby the publicke charges and vocations, for men are not now a dayes (specially in states of Oligarchie as the most in our age) cal­led so much for their wisedome as for their wealth, also to auoyde enuie of neighbours or bountie in conuersation, for whosoeuer is reputed rich cannot without reproch, but be either a lender or a spender. Or as others do to seeme very busie when they haue no­thing to doo, and yet will make themselues so occupied and ouer­laden in the Princes affaires, as it is a great matter to haue a couple of wordes with them, when notwithstanding they lye sleeping on their beds all an after noone, or sit solemnly at cardes in their chambers, or enterteyning of the Dames, or laughing and gibing with their familiars foure houres by the clocke, whiles the poore suter desirous of his dispatch is aunswered by some Secretarie or page il fault attendre, Monsieur is dispatching the kings businesse into Languedock, Prouence Piemont, a common phrase with the Secretaries of Frāce. Or as I haue obserued in many of the Princes Courts of Italie, to seeme idle when they be earnestly occupied & entend to nothing but mischieuous practizes, and do busily ne­gotiat by coulor of otiation. Or as others of them that go ordina­rily to Church and neuer pray to winne an opinion of holinesse: or pray still apace, but neuer do good deede, and geue a begger a penny and spend a pound on a harlot, to speake faire to a mans face, and foule behinde his backe, to set him at his trencher and yet [Page 253] sit on his skirts for so we vse to say by a fayned friend, then also to be rough and churlish in speach and apparance, but inwardly af­fectionate and fauouring, as I haue sene of the greatest podestates and grauest iudges and Presidentes of Parliament in Fraunce.

These & many such like disguisings do we find in mans beha­uiour, & specially in the Courtiers of forraine Countreyes, where in my youth I was brought vp, and very well obserued their ma­ner of life and conuersation, for of mine owne Countrey I haue not made so great experience. Which parts, neuerthelesse, we al­low not now in our English maker, because we haue geuen him the name of an honest man, and not of an hypocrite: and therefore leauing these manner of dissimulations to all base-minded men, & of vile nature or misterie, we doe allow our Courtly Poet to be a dissembler only in the subtilties of his arte: that is, when he is most artificiall, so to disguise and cloake it as it may not appeare, nor seeme to proceede from him by any studie or trade of rules, but to be his naturall: nor so euidently to be descried, as euery ladde that reades him shall say he is a good scholler, but will rather haue him to know his arte well▪ and little to vse it.

And yet peraduenture in all points it may not be so taken, but in such onely as may discouer his grossenes or his ignorance by some schollerly affectation: which thing is very irkesome to all men of good trayning, and specially to Courtiers. And yet for all that our maker may not be in all cases restrayned, but that he may both vse▪ and also manifest his arte to his great praise, and need no more be ashamed thereof, than a shomaker to haue made a cleanly shoe, or a Carpenter to haue buylt a faire house. Therefore to dis­cusse and make this point somewhat cleerer, to weete, where arte ought to appeare, and where not, and when the naturall is more commendable than the artificiall in any humane action or work­manship, we wil examine it further by this distinction.

In some cases we say arte is an ayde and coadiutor to nature, and a furtherer of her actions to good effect, or peraduenture a meane to supply her wants, by renforcing the causes wherein shee is impotent and defectiue, as doth the arte of phisicke, by helping the naturall concoction, retention, distribution, expulsion, and o­ther vertues, in a weake and vnhealthie bodie. Or as the good gar­diner [Page 254] seasons his soyle by sundrie sorts of compost: as mucke or marle, clay or sande, and many times by bloud, or lees of oyle or wine▪ or stale, or perchaunce with more costly drugs: and waters his plants, and weedes his herbes and floures, and prunes his bran­ches, and vnleaues his boughes to let in the sunne: and twentie o­ther waies cherisheth them, and cureth their infirmities, and so makes that neuer, or very seldome any of them miscarry, but bring foorth their flours and fruites in season. And in both these cases it is no smal praise for the Phisition & Gardiner to be called good and cunning artificers.

In another respect arte is not only an aide and coadiutor to na­ture in all her actions, but an alterer of them, and in some sort a surmounter of her skill, so as by meanes of it her owne effects shall appeare more beautifull or straunge and miraculous, as in both cases before remembred. The Phisition by the cordials hee will geue his patient, shall be able not onely to restore the de­cayed spirites of man, and render him health, but also to prolong the terme of his life many yeares ouer and aboue the stint of his first and naturall constitution. And the Gardiner by his arte will not onely make an herbe, or flowr, or fruite, come forth in his sea­son without impediment, but also will embellish the same in ver­tue, shape, odour and taste, that nature of herselfe woulde neuer haue done: as to make the single gillifloure, or marigold, or daisie, double: and the white rose, redde, yellow, or carnation, a bitter mellon sweete; a sweete apple, soure; a plumme or cherrie without a stone; a peare without core or kernell, a goord or coucumber like to a horne, or any other figure he will: any of which things nature could not doe without mans help and arte. These actions also are most singular, when they be most artificiall.

In another respect, we say arte is neither an aider nor a surmoū ­ter, but onely a bare immitatour of natures works, following and counterfeyting her actions and effects, as the Marmesot doth ma­ny countenances and gestures of man, of which sorte are the artes of painting and keruing, whereof one represents the naturall by light colour and shadow in the superficiall or flat, the other in a body massife expressing the full and emptie, euen, extant, rabba­ted, hollow, or whatsoeuer other figure and passion of quantitie. [Page 255] So also the Alchimist counterfeits gold, siluer, and all other met­tals, the Lapidarie pearles and pretious stones by glasse and other substances falsified, and sophisticate by arte. These men also be praised for their craft, and their credit is nothing empayred, to say that their conclusions and effects are very artificiall. Finally in an­other respect arte is as it were an encountrer and contrary to na­ture, producing effects neither like to hers, nor by participation with her operations, nor by imitation of her paternes, but makes things and produceth effects altogether strange and diuerse, & of such forme & qualitie (nature alwaies supplying stuffe) as she ne­uer would nor could haue done of her selfe, as the carpenter that builds a house, the ioyner that makes a table or a bedstead, the tai­lor a garment, the Smith a locke or a key, and a number of like, in which case the workman gaineth reputation by his arte, and praise when it is best expressed & most apparāt, & most studiously. Man also in all his actiōs that be not altogether naturall, but are gotten by study & discipline or exercise, as to daunce by measures to sing by note, to play on the lute, and such like, it is a praise to be said an artificiall dauncer, singer, & player on instruments, because they be not exactly knowne or done, but by rules & precepts or teaching of schoolemasters. But in such actiōs as be so naturall & proper to [...]an, as he may become excellent therein without any arte or imi­tation at all, (custome and exercise excepted, which are requisite to euery action not numbred among the vitall or animal) and where­in nature should seeme to do amisse, and man suffer reproch to be found destitute of them: in those to shew himselfe rather artifici­all then naturall, were no lesse to be laughed at, then for one that can see well inough, to vse a paire of spectacles, or not to heare but by a trunke put to his eare, nor feele without a paire of ennealed glooues, which things in deed helpe an infirme sence, but annoy the perfit, and therefore shewing a disabilitie naturall mooue ra­ther to scorne then commendation, and to pitie sooner then to prayse. But what else is language and vtterance, and discourse & persuasion, and argument in man, then the vertues of a well con­stitute body and minde, little lesse naturall then his very sensuall actions, sauing that the one is perfited by nature at once, the other not without exercise & iteration? Peraduenture also it wilbe gran­ted, [Page 256] that a man sees better and discernes more brimly his collours, and heares and feeles more exactly by vse and often hearing and feeling and seing, & though it be better to see with spectacles then not to see at all, yet is their praise not egall nor in any mans iudge­ment comparable: no more is that which a Poet makes by arte and precepts rather then by naturall instinct: and that which he doth by long meditation rather then by a suddaine inspiration, or with great pleasure and facillitie then hardly (and as they are woont to say) in spite of Nature or Minerua, then which nothing can be more irksome or ridiculous.

And yet I am not ignorant that there be artes and methodes both to speake and to perswade and also to dispute, and by which the naturall is in some sorte relieued, as th'eye by his spectacle, I say relieued in his imperfection, but not made more perfit then the naturall, in which respect I call those artes of Grammer, Logicke, and Rhetorick not bare imitations, as the painter or keruers craft and worke in a forraine subiect viz. a liuely purtraite in his table of wood, but by long and studious obseruation rather a repetitiō or reminiscens naturall, reduced into perfection, and made prompt by vse and exercise. And so whatsoeuer a man speakes or per­swades he doth it not by imitation artificially, but by obseruation naturally (though one follow another) because it is both the same and the like that nature doth suggest: but if a popingay speake, she doth it by imitation of mans voyce artificially and not natu­rally being the like, but not the same that nature doth suggest to man. But now because our maker or Poet is to play many parts and not one alone, as first to deuise his plat or subiect, then to fa­shion his poeme▪ thirdly to vse his metricall proportions, and last of all to vtter with pleasure and delight, which restes in his maner of language and stile as hath bene said, whereof the many moodes and straunge phrases are called figures, it is not altogether with him as with the crafts man, nor altogither otherwise then with the crafts man, for in that he vseth his metricall proportions by appointed and harmonicall measures and distaunces, he is like the Carpenter or Ioyner, for borrowing their tymber and stuffe of na­ture, they appoint and order it by art otherwise then nature would doe, and worke effects in apparance contrary to hers. Also in that [Page 257] which the Poet speakes or reports of another mans tale or doings, as Homer of Priamus or Vlisses, he is as the painter or keruer that worke by imitation and representation in a forrein subiect, in that he speakes figuratiuely, or argues subtillie, or perswades copiously and vehemently, he doth as the cunning gardiner that vsing na­ture as a coadiutor, furders her conclusions & many times makes her effectes more absolute and straunge. But for that in our ma­ker or Poet, which restes onely in deuise and issues from an excel­lent sharpe and quick inuention, holpen by a cleare and bright phantasie and imagination, he is not as the painter to counterfaite the naturall by the like effects and not the same, nor as the gardi­ner aiding nature to worke both the same and the like, nor as the Carpenter to worke effectes vtterly vnlike, but euen as nature her selfe working by her owne peculiar vertue and proper instinct and not by example or meditation or exercise as all other artifi­cers do, is then most admired when he is most naturall and least artificiall. And in the feates of his language and vtterance, because they hold aswell of nature to be suggested and vttered as by arte to be polished and reformed. Therefore shall our Poet receaue prayse for both, but more by knowing of his arte then by vnseaso­nable vsing it, and be more commended for his naturall eloquence then for his artificiall, and more for his artificiall well desembled, then for the same ouermuch affected and grossely or vndiscretly bewrayed, as many makers and Oratours do.