A colei  
Che se stessa rassomiglia & non altrui.    

THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY.  
Contrived into three Books: The first of Poets and Poesy, the second of Proportion, the third of Ornament.   printer's or publisher's device 
·ANCHORA· SPEI·  
AT LONDON Printed by Richard Field, dwelling in the blackfriars, near Ludgate. 1589.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR WILLIAM CECIL KNIGHT, LORD OF BURGHLEY, LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND, R. F. Printer wisheth health and prosperity, with the commandment and use of his continual service.  
THis Book (right Honourable) coming to my hands, with his bare title without any Authors name or any other ordinary address, I doubted how well it might become me to make you a present thereof, seeming by many express passages in the same at large, that it was by the Author intended to our Sovereign Lady the Queen, and for her recreation and service chief devised, in which case to make any other person her highness partner in the honour of his gift it could not stand with my duty, nor be without some prejudice to her majesties interest and his merit. Perceiving besides the title to purport so slender a subject, as nothing almost could be more discrepant from the gravity of your years and Honourable function, whose contemplations are every hour more seriously employed upon the public adminisration and services: I thought it no condign gratification, nor scarce any good satisfaction for such a person as you. Yet when I considered, that bestowing upon your Lordship the first view of this mine impression (a feat of mine own simple faculty) it could not scypher her majesties honour or prerogative in the gift, nor yet the Author of his thanks: and seeing the thing itself to be a device of some novelty (which commonly giveth every good thing a special grace) and a novelty so highly tending to the most worthy praises of her majesties most excellent name (dearer to you I dare conceive them any worldly thing beside) me thought I could not devise to have presented your Lordship any gift more agreeable to your appetite, or fit for my vocation and ability to bestow, your Lordship being learned and a lover of learning, my present a Book and myself a printer always ready and desirous to be at your Honourable commandment. And thus I humbly take my leave from  
the Blackfriars, this xxviij. of May. 1589. Your Honour's most humble at commandment, R. F.   

THE FIRST BOOK, Of Poets and Poesy.  

CHAP. I.  
What a Poet and Poesy is, and who may be worthily said the most excellent Poet of our time.  
A Poet is as much to say as a maker. And our English name well conforms with the Greek word: for of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to make, they call a maker Poeta. Such as (by way of resemblance and reverently) we may say of God: who without any travel to his divine imagination, made all the world of nought, nor also by any pattern or mould as the Platonics with their Idees do fantastically suppose. Even so the very Poet makes and contrives out of his own brain, both the verse and matter of his poem, and not by any foreign copy or example, as doth the translator, who therefore may well be said a versifier, but not a Poet. The premises considered, it giveth to the name and profession no small dignity and pre-eminence, above all other artificers, Scientificke or Mechanical. And nevertheless without any repugnancy at all, a Poet may in some sort be said a follower or imitator, because he can express the true and lively of every 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 Poesy an art not only of making, but also of imitation. And this science in his perfection, can not grow, but by some divine instinct, the Platonics call it furor: or by excellency of nature and complexion: or by great subtlety of the spirits & wit, or by much experience and observation of the world, and course of kind, or peradventure by all or most part of them. Otherwise how was it possible that Homer being but a poor private man, and as some say, in his later age blind, should so exactly set forth and describe, as if he had been a most excellent Captain or General, the order and array of battles, the conduct of whole armies, the sieges and assaults of cities and towns? or as some great Prince's maiordome and perfect Surveyor in Court, the order, sumptuousness and magnificence of royal banquets, feasts, weddings, and enteruewes? or as a Politician very prudent, and much enured with the private and public affairs, so gravely examine the laws and ordinances Civil, or so profoundly discourse in matters of estate, and forms of all politic regiment? Finally how could he so naturally paint out the speeches, countenance and manners of Princely persons and private, to wit, the wrath of Achilles, the magnanimity of Agamemnon, the prudence of Menelaus, the prowess of Hector, the majesty of king Priamus, the gravity of Nestor, the policies and eloquence of Ulysses, the calamities of the distressed Queens, and valiance of all the Captains and adventurous knights in those lamentable wars of Troy? It is therefore of Poets thus to be conceived, that if they be able to devise and make all these things of themselves, without any subject of verity, that they be (by manner of speech) as creating gods. If they do it by instinct divine or natural, then surely much favoured from above. If by their experience, than no doubt very wise men. If by any precedent or pattern laid before them, then truly the most excellent imitators & counterfaitors of all others. But you (Madam) my most Honoured and Gracious: if I should seem to offer you this my devise for a discipline and not a delight, I might well be reputed, of all others the most arrogant and injurious: yourself being already, of any that I know in our time, the most excellent Poet. Forsooth by your Princely purse favours and countenance, making in manner what ye list, the poor man rich, the lewd well learned, the coward courageous, and vile both noble and valiant. Then for imitation no less; your person as a most cunning counterfaitor lively representing Venus in countenance, in life Diana, Pallas for government, and juno in all honour and regal magnificence.   

CHAP. II.  
That there may be an Art of our English Poesy, aswell as there is of the Latin and Greek.  
THen as there was no art in the world till by experience found out: so if Poesy be now an Art, & of all antiquity hath been among the Greeks and Latins, & yet were none, until by studious persons fashioned and reduced into a method of rules & precepts, than no doubt may there be the like with us. And if thou'rt of Poesy be but a skill appertaining to utterance, why may not the same be with us aswell as with them, our language being no less copious pithy and significative than theirs, our conceits the same, and our wits no less apt to devise and imitate then theirs were? If again Art be but a certain order of rules prescribed by reason, and gathered by experience, why should not Poesy be a vulgar Art with us aswell as with the Greeks and Latins, our language admitting no fewer rules and nice diversities than theirs? but peradventure more by a peculiar, which our speech hath in many things differing from theirs: and yet in the general points of that Art, allowed to go in common with them: so as if one point perchance which is their feet whereupon their measures stand, and in deed is all the beauty of their Poesy, and which feet we have not, nor as yet never went about to frame (the nature of our language and words not permitting it) we have in stead thereof twenty other curious points in that skill more than they ever had, by reason of our rhyme and tunable concords or symphony, which they never observed. Poesy therefore may be an Art in our vulgar, and that very methodical and commendable.   

CHAP. III.  
How Poets were the first priests, the first prophets, the first Legislators and politicians in the world.  
THe profession and use of Poesy is most ancient from the beginning, and not as many erroneously suppose, after, but before any civil society was among men. For it is written, that Poesy was th'original cause and occasion of their first assemblies, when before the people remained in the woods and mountains, vagrant and dipersed like the wild beasts, lawless and naked, or very ill clad, and of all good and necessary provision for harbour or sustenance utterly unfurnished: so as they little diffred for their manner of life, from the very brute beasts of the field. Whereupon it is feigned that Amphion and Orpheus, two Poets of the first ages, one of them, to wit Amphion, builded up cities, and reared walls with the stones that came in heaps to the sound of his harp, figuring thereby the mollifying of hard and stony hearts by his sweet and eloquent persuasion. And Orpheus assembled the wild beasts to come in herds to hearken to his music, and by that means made them tame, implying thereby, how by his discreet and wholesome lessons uttered in harmony and with melodious instruments, he brought the rude and savage people to a more civil and orderly life, nothing, as it seemeth, more prevailing or fit to redress and edify the cruel and sturdy courage of man than it. And as these two Poets and Linus before them, and Museus also and Hesiodus in Greece and Arcadia: so by all likelihood had more Poets done in other places, and in other ages before them, though there be no remembrance left of them, by reason of the Records by some accident of time perished and failing. Poet's therefore are of great antiquity. Then forasmuch as they were the first that intended to the observation of nature and her works, and specially of the Celestial courses, by reason of the continual motion of the heavens, searching after the first mover, and from thence by degrees coming to know and consider of the substances separate & abstract, which we call the divine intelligences or good Angels (Demons) they were the first that instituted sacrifices of placation, with invocations and worship to them, as to Gods: and invented and established all the rest of the observances and ceremonies of religion, and so were the first Priests and ministers of the holy mysteries. And because for the better execution of that high charge and function, it behoved them to live chaste, and in all holiness of life, and in continual study and contemplation: they came by instinct divine, and by deep meditation, and much abstinence (the same assubtiling and refining their spirits) to be made apt to receive visions, both waking and sleeping, which made them utter prophecies, and foretell things to come. So also were they the first Prophets or seears, Videntes, for so the Scripture termeth them in Latin after the Hebrew word, and all the oracles and answers of the gods were given in meeter or verse, and published to the people by their direction. And for that they were aged and grave men, and of much wisdom and experience in th'affairs of the world, they were the first lawmakers to the people, and the first polititiens, devising all expedient means for th'establishment of Common wealth, to hold and contain the people in order and duty by force and virtue of good and wholesome laws, made for the preservation of the public peace and tranquillity. The same peradventure not purposely intended, but greatly furthered by the awe of their gods, and such scruple of conscience, as the terrors of their late invented religion had led them into.   

CHAP. FOUR  
How the Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomers and Historiographers and Orators and Musitiens of the world.  
Utterance also and language is given by nature to man for persuasion of others, and aid of themselves, I mean the first ability to speak. For speech itself is artificial and made by man, and the more pleasing it is, the more it prevaileth to such purpose as it is intended for: but speech by meeter is a kind of utterance, more cleanly couched and more delicate to the ear then prose is, because it is more currant and slipper upon the tongue, and withal tunable and melodious, as a kind of Music, and therefore may be termed a musical speech or utterance, which cannot but please the hearer very well. Another cause is, for that it is briefer & more compendious, and easier to bear away and be retained in memory, then that which is contained in multitude of words and full of tedious ambage and long periods. It is beside a manner of utterance more eloquent and rhetorical than the ordinary prose, which we use in our daily talk: because it is decked and set out with all manner of fresh colours and figures, which maketh that it sooner invegleth the judgement of man, and carrieth his opinion this way and that, whither soever the heart by impression of the ear shallbe most affectionately bend and directed. The utterance in prose is not of so great efficacy, because not only it is daily used, and by that occasion the ear is overglutted with it, but is also not so voluble and slipper upon the tongue, being wide and lose, and nothing numerous, nor contrived into measures, and sounded with so gallant and harmonical accents, nor in fine allowed that figurative conveyance, nor so great licence in choice of words and phrases as meeter is. So as the Poets were also from the beginning the best persuaders and their eloquence the first Rhetoric of the world. Even so it became that the high mysteries of the gods should be revealed & taught, by a manner of utterance and language of extraordinary phrase, and brief and compendious, and above all others sweet and civil as the metrical is. The same also was meetest to register the lives and noble gests of Princes, and of the great monarch 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 observers of all natural causes & effects in the things generable and corruptible, and from thence mounted up to search after the celestial courses and influences, & yet penetrated further to know the divine essences and substances separate, as is said before, they were the first Astronomers and Philosophists and metaphysics. Finally, because they did altogether endeavour themselves to reduce the life of man to a certain method of good manners, and made the first differences between virtue and vice, and then tempered all these knowledges and skills with the exercise of a delectable Music by melodious instruments, which withal served them to delight their hearers, & to call the people together by admiration, to a plausible and virtuous conversation, therefore were they the first Philosophers Ethick, & the first artificial Musiciens of the world. Such was Linus, Orpheus, Amphion & Museus the most ancient Poets and Philosophers, of whom there is left any memory by the profane writers. King David also & Solomon his son and many other of the holy Prophets wrote in metres, and used to sing them to the harp, although to many of us ignorant of the Hebrew language and phrase, and not observing it, the same seem but a prose. It can not be therefore that any scorn or indignity should justly be offered to so noble, profitable, ancient and divine a science as Poesy is.   

CHAP. V.  
How the wild and savage people used a natural Poesy in versicle and rhyme as our vulgar is.  
ANd the Greek and Latin Poesy was by verse numerous and metrical, running upon pleasant feet, sometimes swift, sometime slow (their words very aptly serving that purpose) but without any rhyme or tunable concord in th'end of their verses, as we and all other nations now use. But the hebrews & Chaldees who were more ancient than the Greeks, did not only use a metrical Poesy, but also with the same a manner of rhyme, as hath been of late observed by learned men. Whereby it appeareth, that our vulgar running Poesy was common to all the nations of the world beside, whom the Latins and Greeks in special called barbarous. So as it was notwithstanding the first and most ancient Poesy, and the most universal, which two points do otherwise give to all human inventions and affairs no small credit. This is proved by certificate of merchants & travelers, who by late navigations have surveyed the whole world, and discovered large countries and strange people's wild and savage, affirming that the American, the Perusine & the very Cannibal, do sing and also say, their highest and holiest matters in certain rhyming versicles and not in prose, which proves also that our manner of vulgar Poesy is more ancient than the artificial of the Greeks and Latins, ours coming by instinct of nature, which was before Art or observation, and used with the savage and uncivil, who were before all science or civility, even as the naked by priority of time is before the clothed, and the ignorant before the learned. The natural Poesy therefore being aided and amended by Art, and not utterly altered or obscured, but some sign left of it, (as the Greeks and Latins have left none) is no less to be allowed and commended then theirs.   

CHAP. VI  
How the rhyming Poesy came first to the Grecians and Latins, and had altered and almost spilled their manner of Poesy.  
But it came to pass, when fortune fled far from the Greeks and Latins, & that their towns flourished no more in traffic, nor their Universities in learning as they had done continuing those Monarchies: the barbarous conquerors invading them with innumerable swarms of strange nations, the Poesy metrical of the Grecians and Latins came to be much corrupted and altered, in so much as there were times that the very Greeks and Latins themselves took pleasure in Rhyming verses, and used it as a rare and gallant thing: Yea their Orators proses nor the Doctor's Sermons were acceptable to Princes nor yet to the common people unless it went in manner of tunable rhyme or metrical sentences, as appears by many of the ancient writers, about that time and since. And the great Princes, and Popes, and Sultan's would one salute and greet an other sometime in friendship and sport, sometime in earnest and enmity by rhyming verses, & nothing seemed clerkly done, but must be done in rhyme: Whereof we find divers examples from the time of th'emperors Gracian & Valentinian downwards: For then abouts began the declination of the Roman Empire, by the notable inundations of the Huns and vandals in Europe, under the conduct of Totila & Atila and other their generals. This brought the rhyming Poesy in grace, and made it prevail in Italy and Greece (their own long time cast aside, and almost neglected) till after many years that the peace of Italy and of th'Empire Occidental revived new clerks, who recovering and perusing the books and studies of the civiler ages, restored all manner of arts, and that of the Greek and Latin Poesy withal into their former purity and netnes. Which nevertheless did not so prevail, but that the rhyming Poesy of the Barbarians remained still in his reputation, that one in the school, this other in Courts of Princes more ordinary and allowable.   

CHAP. VII.  
How in the time of Charlemagne and many years after him the Latin poets wrote in rhyme.  
ANd this appeareth evidently by the works of many learned men, who wrote about the time of Charlemaine's reign in the Empire Occidental, where the Christian Religion, became through the excessive authority of Popes, and deep devotion of Princes strongly fortified and established by erection of orders Monastical, in which many simple clerks for devotion sake & sanctity were received more than for any learning, by which occasion & the solitariness of their life, waxing studious without discipline or instruction by any good method, some of them grew to be historiographers, some Poets, and following either the barbarous rudeness of the time, or else their own idle inventions, all that they wrote to the favour or praise of Princes, they did it in such manner of minstrelsy, and thought themselves no small fools, when they could make their verses go all in rhyme as did the school of Salerne, dedicating their book of medicinal rules unto our king of England, with this beginning.  
Anglorum Regi scripsit tota schola Salerni  
Sivis incolumem, sivis te reddere sanum  
Curas tolle graves, irasci crede prophanum  
Nec retine ventrem nec string as fortiter annum.  
And all the rest that follow throughout the whole book more curiously then cleanly, nevertheless very well to the purpose of their art. In the same time king Edward the iij. himself quartering the Arms of England and France, did discover his pretence and claim to the Crown of France, in these rhyming verses.  
Rex sum regnorum bina ratione duorum  
Anglorum regno sum rex ego iure paterno  
Matris iure quidem Francorum nuncupor idem  
Hinc est armorum variatio facta meorum.  
Which verses Philip de Valois then possessing the Crown as next heir male by pretext of the law Salic, and holding out Edward the third, answered in these other of as good stuff.  
Praedo regnorum qui diceris esse duorum  
Regno materno privaberis atque paterno  
Prolis ius nullum ubi matris non fuit ullum  
Hinc est armorum variatio stulta tuorum.  
It is found written of Pope Lucius, for his great avarice and tyranny used over the Clergy thus in rhyming verses.  
Lucius est piscis rex & tyrannus aquarum  
A quo discordat Lucius iste parum  
Devorat hic homines, hic piscibus insidiatur  
Esurit hic semper hic aliquando satur  
Amborum vitam silaus aequata notaret  
Plus rationis habet qui ratione caret.  
And as this was used in the greatest and gayest matters of Princes and Popes by the idle invention of Monastical men then reigning all in their superlative. So did every scholar & secular clerk or versifier, when he wrote any short poem or matter of good lesson put it in rhyme, whereby it came to pass that all your old proverbs and common sayings, which they would have plausible to the reader and easy to remember and bear away, were of that sort as these.  
In mundo mira faciunt duo nummus & ira  
Mollificant dura pervertunt omnia iura.  
And this verse in dispraise of the Courtier's life following the Court of Rome.  
Vita palatina dura est animaeque ruina.  
And these written by a noble learned man.  
Ire redire sequi regum sublimia castra  
Eximius status est, sed non sic itur ad astra.  
And this other which to the great injury of all women was written (no doubt by some forlorn lover, or else some old malicious Monk) for one woman's sake blemishing the whole sex.  
Fallere flere near mentiri nilque tacere  
Haec quinque vere statuit Deus in muliere.  
If I might have been his judge, I would have had him for his labour, served as Orpheus was by the women of Thrace. His eyes to be picket out with pings, for his so deadly belying of them, or worse handled if worse could be devised. But will ye see how God raised a revenger for the silly innocent women, for about the same rhyming age came an honest civil Courtier somewhat bookish, and wrote these verses against the whole rabble of Monks.  
O Monachi vestri stomachi sunt amphora Bacchi  
Vos estis Deus est testis turpissima pestis.  
Anon after came your secular Priests as jolly rymers as the rest, who being sore aggrieved with their Pope Calixtus, for that he had enjoined them from their wives, & railed as fast against him.  
O bone Calixte totus mundus perodit te  
Quondam Presbiteri, poterant uxoribus uti  
Hoc destruxisti, post quam tu Papa fuisti.  
Thus what in writing of rhymes and registering of lies was the Clergy of that fabulous age wholly occupied.  
We find some but very few of these rhyming verses among the Latins of the civiller ages, and those rather happening by chance then of any purpose in the writer, as this Distich among the disports of ovid.  
Quot caelum stellas tot habet tua Romapuellas  
Pascua quotque haedos tot habet tua Roma Cynaedos,  
The posterity taking pleasure in this manner of Simphonie had leisure as it seems to devise many other knacks in their versifying that the ancient and civil Poets had not used before, whereof one was to make every word of a verse to begin with the same letter, as did Hugobald the Monk who made a large poem to the honour of Carolus calvus, every word beginning with C. which was the first letter of the king name thus.  
Carmina clarisonae Caluis cantate camenae.  
And this was thought no small piece of cunning, being in deed a matter of some difficulty to find out so many words beginning with one letter as might make a just volume, though in truth it were but a fantastical devise and to no purpose at all more than to make them harmonical to the rude ears of those barbarous ages.  
Another of their pretty inventions was to make a verse of such words as by their nature and manner of construction and situation might be turned backward word by word, and make another perfect verse, but of quite contrary sense as the gibing Monk that wrote of Pope Alexander these two verses.  
Laus tua non tua fraus, virtus non copia rerum,  
Scandere te faciunt hoc decus eximium.  
Which if ye will turn backward they make two other good verses, but of a contrary sense, thus.  
Eximium decus hoc faciunt te scandere, rerum  
Copia, non virtus, fraus tua non tua laus.  
And they called it Verse lion.  
Thus you may see the humours and appetites of men how divers and changeable they be in liking new fashions, though many times worse than the old, and not only in the manner of their life and use of their garments, but also in their learnings and arts and specially of their languages.   

CHAP. VIII.  
In what reputation Poesy and Poets were in old time with Princes and otherwise generally, and how they be now become contemptible and for what causes.  
FOr the respects aforesaid in all former ages and in the most civil countries and commons wealths, good Poets and Poesy were highly esteemed and much favoured of the greatest Princes. For proof whereof we read how much Amyntas king of Macedonia made of the Tragical Poet Euripides. And the Athenians of Sophocles. In what price the noble poems of Homer were holden with Alexander the great, in so much as every night they were laid under his pillow, and by day were carried in the rich jewel coffer of Darius lately before vanquished by him in battle. And not only Homer the father and Prince of the Poets was so honoured by him, but for his sake all other meaner Poets, in so much as Cherillus one no very great good Poet had for every verse well made a philip's noble of gold, amounting in value to an angel English, and so for every hundredth verses (which a cleanly pen could speedily dispatch (he had a hundred angels. And since Alexander the great how Theocritus the Greek Poet was favoured by Tholomee king of Egypt & Queen Berenice his wife, Ennius likewise by Scipio Prince of the Romans, Virgil also by th'emperor Augustus. And in later times how much were jehan de Mehune & Guillaume de Loris made of by the French kings, and Geffrey Chaucer father of our English Poets by Richard the second, who as it was supposed gave him the manner of new Holm in Oxfordshire. And Gower to Henry the fourth, and Harding to Edward the fourth. Also how Francis the French king made Sangelais, Salmonius, Macrinus, and Clement Marot of his privy Chamber for their excellent skill in vulgar and Latin Poesy. And king Henry the 8. her majesties father for a few Psalms of David turned into English metre by Sternhold, made him groom of his privy chamber, & gave him many other good gifts. And one Grace what good estimation did he grow unto with the same king Henry, & afterward with the Duke of Somerset Protector, for making certain merry Ballads, whereof one chief was, The hunt it up, the hunt is up. And Queen Mary his daughter for one epithalamy or nuptial song made by Vargas a Spanish Poet at her marriage with king Philip in Winchester gave him during his life two hundred Crowns pension: nor this reputation was given them in ancient times altogether in respect that Poesy was a delicate art, and the Poets themselves cunning Princepleasers, but for that also they were thought for their universal knowledge to be very sufficient men for the greatest charges in their common wealths, were it for counsel or for conduct, whereby no man need to doubt but that both skills may very well concur and be most excellent in one person. For we find that julius Caesar the first Emperor and a most noble Captain, was not only 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 Egypt, and Horace the most delicate of all the Roman Lyrickes, was thought meet and by many letters of great instance provoked to be Secretary of estate to Augustus' th'emperor, which nevertheless he refused for his unhealthfulnesse sake, and being a quiet minded man and nothing ambitious of glory: non voluit accedere ad Rempublicam, as it is reported. And Ennius the Latin Poet was not as some perchance think, only favoured by Scipio the African for his good making of verses, but used as his familiar and Counsellor in the wars for his great knowledge and amiable conversation. And long before that Antimemdes and other Greek Poets, as Aristotle reports in his Politics, had charge in the wars. And Firtaeus the Poet being also a lame man & halting upon one leg, was chosen by the Oracle of the gods from the Athenians to be general of the Lacedæmonians army, not for his Poetry, but for his wisdom and grave persuasions, and subtle Stratagems whereby he had the victory over his enemies. So as the Poets seemed to have skill not only in the subtleties of their art, but also to be meet for all manner of functions civil and martial, even as they found favour of the times they lived in, insomuch as their credit and estimation generally was not small. But in these days (although some learned Princes may take delight in them) yet universally it is not so. For as well Poets as Poesy are despised, & the name become, of honourable infamous, subject to scorn and derision, and rather a reproach than a praise to any that useth it: for commonly who so is studious in th'art or shows himself excellent in it, they call him in disdain a fantastical: and a light headed or fantastical man (by conversion) they call a Poet. And this proceeds through the barbarous ignorance of the time, and pride of many Gentlemen, and others, whose gross heads not being brought up or acquainted with any excellent Art, nor able to contrive, or in manner conceive any matter of subtlety in any business or science, they do deride and scorn it in all others as superfluous knowledges and vain sciences, and whatsoever devise be of rare invention they term it fantastical, construing it to the worst side: and among men such as be modest and grave, & of little conversation, nor delighted in the busy life and vain ridiculous actions of the popular, they call him in scorn a Philosopher or Poet, as much to say as a fantastical man, very injuriously (God wots) and to the manifestation of their own ignorance, not making difference betwixt terms. For as the evil and vicious disposition of the brain hinders the sound judgement and discourse of man with busy & disordered fantasies, for which cause the Greeks call him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, so is that part being well affected, not only nothing disorderly or confused with any monstrous imaginations or conceits, but very formal, and in his much multiformitie uniform, that is well proportioned, and so passing clear, that by it as by a glass or mirror, are represented unto the soul all manner of beautiful visions, whereby the inventive part of the mind is so much helped, as without it no man could devise any new or rare thing: and where it is not excellent in his kind, there could be no politic Captain, nor any witty engineer or cunning artificer, nor yet any law maker or counsellor of deep discourse, yea the Prince of Philosophers sticks not to say animam non intelligere absque phantasmate, which text to another purpose Alexander Aphrodiscus well noteth, as learned men know. And this fantasy may be resembled to a glass as hath been said, whereof there be many tempers and manner of makings, as the perspectives do acknowledge, for some be false glasses and show things otherwise than they be in deed, and others right as they be in deed, neither fairer nor fouler, nor greater nor smaller. There be again of these glasses that show things exceeding fair and comely, others that show figures very monstrous & ill-favoured. Even so is the fantastical part of man (if it be not disordered) a representer of the best, most comely and beautiful images or appearances of things to the soul and according to their very truth. If otherwise, then doth it breed Chimeres & monsters in man's imaginations, & not only in his imaginations, but also in all his ordinary actions and life which ensues. Wherefore such persons as be illuminated with the brightest irradiations of knowledge and of the verity and due proportion of things, they are called by the learned men not phantastici but euphantasiote, and of this sort of fantasy are all good Poets, notable Captains stratagematique, all cunning artificers and engineers, all Legislators Polititiens & counsellors of estate, in whose exercises the inventive part is most employed and is to the sound & true judgement of man most needful. This diversity in the terms perchance every man hath not noted, & thus much be said in defence of the Poet's honour, to the end no noble and generous mind be discomforted in the study thereof, the rather for that worthy & honourable memorial of that noble woman twice French Queen, Lady Anne of Britain, wife first to king Charles the viii. and after to jews the xii. who passing one day from her lodging toward the kings side, saw in a gallery Master Allame Chartier the king's Secretary, an excellent maker or Poet leaning on a tables end a sleep, & stooped down to kiss him, saying thus in all their hearings, we may not of Princely courtesy pass by and not honour with our kiss the mouth from whence so many sweet ditties & golden poems have issued. But me thinks at these words I hear some smilingly say, I would be loath to lack living of my own till the Prince gave me a manner of new Elm for my rhyming. And another to say I have read that the Lady Cynthia came once down out of her sky to kiss the fair young lad Endymion as he lay a sleep: & many noble Queens that have bestowed kisses upon their Prince's paramours, but never upon any Poets. The third me thinks shruggingly saith, I kept not to sit sleeping with my Poesy till a Queen came and kissed me. But what of all this? Prince's may give a good Poet such convenient countenance and also benefit as are due to an excellent artificer, though they neither kiss nor coax them, and the discreet Poet looks for no such extraordinary favours, and aswell doth he honour by his pen the just, liberal, or magnanimous Prince, as the valiant, amiable or beautiful though they be every one of them the good gifts of God. So it seems not altogether the scorn and ordinary disgrace offered unto Poets at these days, is cause why few Gentlemen do delight in the Art, but for that liberality, is come to fail in Princes, who for their largesse were wont to be accounted th'only patrons of learning, and first founders of all excellent artificers. Besides it is not perceived, that Princes themselves do take any pleasure in this science, by whose example the subject is commonly led, and alured to all delights and exercises be they good or bad, according to the grave saying of the historian. Rex multitudinem religione implevit, quae semper regenti similis est. And peradventure in this iron & malicious age of ours, Princes are less delighted in it, being over earnestly bend and affected to the affairs of Empire & ambition, whereby they are as it were enforced to endeavour themselves to arms and practices of hostility, or to intend to the right pollicing of their states, and have not one hour to bestow upon any other civil or delectable Art of natural or moral doctrine: nor scarce any leisure to think one good thought in perfect and godly contemplation, whereby their troubled minds might be moderated and brought to tranquillity. So as, it is hard to find in these days of noblemen or gentlemen any good Mathematician, or excellent physician, or notable Philosopher, or else a cunning Poet: because we find few great Princes much delighted in the same studies. Now also of such among the Nobility or gentry as be very well seen in many laudable sciences, and especially in making or Poesy, it is so come to pass that they have no courage to write & if they have, yet are they loath to be a known of their skill. So as I know very many notable Gentlemen in the Court that have written commendably, and suppressed it again, or else suffered it to be published without their own names to it: as if it were a discredit for a Gentleman, to seem learned, and to show himself amorous of any good Art. In other ages it was not so, for we read that Kings & Princes have written great volumes and published them under their own regal titles. As to begin with Solomon the wisest of Kings, julius Caesar the greatest of Emperors, Hermes Tresmegistus the holiest of Priests and Prophets, Euax king of Arabia wrote a book of precious stones in verse, Prince Auicenna of Physic and Philosophy, Alphonsus a king of Spain his Astronomical Tables, Almansor a king of Marrocco diverse Philosophical works, and by their regal example our late sovereign Lord king Henry the eight wrote a book in defence of his faith, then persuaded that it was the true and Apostolical doctrine, though it hath appeared otherwise since, yet his honour and learned zeal was nothing less to be allowed. Queen's also have been known studious, and to write large volumes, as Lady Margaret of France Queen of Navarre in our time. But of all others the Emperor Nero was so well learned in Music and Poesy, as when he was taken by order of the Senate and appointed to die, he offered violence to himself and said, O quantus artisex pereo! as much to say, as, how is it possible a man of such science and learning as myself, should come to this shameful death? Th'emperor Octavian being made executor to Virgil, who had left by his last will and testament, that his books of the Aeneidos should be committed to the fire as things not perfected by him, made his excuse for infringing the deads' will, by a number of verses most excellently written, whereof these are part.  
Frangatur potiùs legum veneranda potestas,  
Quàm tot congestos noctésque diésque labores  
Hauserit una dies. And put his name to them. And before him his uncle & father adoptive julius Caesar, was not ashamed to publish under his own name, his Commentaries of the French and Britain wars. Since therefore so many noble Emperors, Kings and Princes have been studious of Poesy and other civil arts, & not ashamed to bewray their skills in the same, let none other meaner person despise learning, nor (whether it be in prose or in Poesy, if they themselves be able to write, or have written any thing well or of rare invention) be any whit squeimish to let it be published under their names, for reason serves it, and modesty doth not repugn.   

CHAP. IX.  
How Poesy should not be employed upon vain conceits or vicious or infamous.  
WHerefore the Nobility and dignity of the Art considered aswell by universality as antiquity and the natural excellence of itself, Poesy ought not to be abased and employed upon any unworthy matter & subject, nor used to vain purposes, which nevertheless is daily seen, and that is to utter conceits infamous & vicious or ridiculous and foolish, or of no good example & doctrine. Albeit in merry matters (not unhonest) being used for man's solace and recreation it may be well allowed, for as I said before, Poesy is a pleasant manner of utterance varying from the ordinary of purpose to refresh the mind by the ears delight. Poesy also is not only laudable, because I said it was a metrical speech used by the first men, but because it is a metrical speech corrected and reform by discreet judgements, and with no less cunning and curiosity than the Greek and Latin Poesy, and by Art beautified & adorned, & brought far from the primitive rudeness of the first inventors, otherwise it might be said to me that Adam and eves apernes were the gayest garments, because they were the first, and the shepherds tent or pavilion, the best housing, because it was the most ancient & most universal: which I would not have so taken, for it is not my meaning but that Art & cunning concurring with nature, antiquity & universality, in things indifferent, and not evil, do make them more laudable. And right so our vulgar rhyming Poesy, being by good wits brought to that perfection we see, is worthily to be preferred before any other manner of utterance in prose, for such use and to such purpose as it is ordained, and shall hereafter be set down more particularly.   

CHAP. X.  
The subject or matter of Poesy.  
Having sufficiently said of the dignity of Poets and Poesy, now it is time to speak of the matter or subject of Poesy, which to mine intent is, what soever witty and delicate conceit of man meet or worthy to be put in written verse, for any necessary use of the present time, or good instruction of the posterity. But the chief and principal is: the laud honour & glory of the immortal gods (I speak now in phrase of the Gentiles.) Secondly the worthy gests of noble Princes: the memorial and registry of all great fortunes, the praise of virtue & reproof of vice, the instruction of moral doctrines, the revealing of sciences natural & other profitable Arts, the redress of boisterous & sturdy courages by persuasion, the consolation and repose of temperate minds, finally the common solace of mankind in all his travails and cares of this transitory life. And in this last sort being used for recreation only, may allowably bear matter not always of the gravest, or of any great commodity or profit, hut rather in some sort, vain, dissolute, or wanton, so it be not very scandalous & of evil example. But as our intent is to make this Art vulgar for all English men's use, & therefore are of necessity to set down the principal rules therein to be observed: so in mine opinion it is no less expedient to touch briefly all the chief points of this ancient Poesy of the Greeks and Latins, so far forth as it is conformeth with ours. So as it may be known what we hold of them as borrowed, and what as of our own peculiar. Wherefore now that we have said, what is the matter of Poesy, we will declare the manner and forms of poems used by the ancients.   

CHAP. XI.  
Of poems and their sundry forms and how thereby the ancient Poets received surnames.  
AS the matter of Poesy is divers, so was the form of their poems & manner of writing, for all of them wrote not in one sort, even as all of them wrote not upon one matter. Neither was every Poet alike cunning in all as in some one kind of Poesy, nor uttered with like felicity. But wherein any one most excelled, thereof he took a surname, as to be called a Poet Heroick, Lyric, Elegiac, Epigrammatist or otherwise. Such therefore as gave themselves to write long histories of the noble gests of kings & great Princes intermeddling the dealings of the gods, half gods or Heroes of the gentiles, & the great & weighty consequences of peace and war, they called Poets Heroic, whereof Homer was chief and most ancient among the Greeks, Virgil among the Latins: Others who more delighted to write songs or ballads of pleasure, to be song with the voice, and to the harp, lute, or cithaeron & such other musical, instruments, they were called melodious Poet's [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 Latins. There were an other sort, who sought the favour of fair Ladies, and coveted to bemoan their estates at large, & the perplexities of love in a certain piteous verse called Elegy, and thence were called Eligiack: such among the Latins were Ovid, Tibullus, & Propertius. There were also Poets that wrote only for the stage, I mean plays and interludes, to receipt the people with matters of disport, and to that intent did set forth in shows pageants accompanied with speech the common behaviours and manner of life of private persons, and such as were the meaner sort of men, and they were called Comical Poets, of whom among the Greeks Menander and Aristophanes were most excellent, with the Latins Terence and Plautus. Besides those Poets Comic there were other who served also the stage, but meddled not with so base matters: For they set forth the doleful falls of infortunate & afflicted Princes, & were called Poets Tragical. Such were Euripides and Sophocles with the Greeks, Seneca among the Latins. There were yet others who mounted nothing so high as any of them both, but in base and humble style by manner of Dialogue, uttered the private and familiar talk of the meanest sort of men, as shepherds, heywards and such like, such was among the Greeks Theocritus: and Virgil among the Latins, their poems were named Eglogues or shepheardly talk. There was yet another kind of Poet, who intended to tax the common abuses and vice of the people in rough and bitter speeches, and their invectives were called satires, and themselves Satyricques. Such were Lucilius, Juvenal and Persius among the Latins, & with us he that wrote the book called Piers ploughman. Others of a more fine and pleasant head were given wholly to taunting and scoffing at undecent things, and in short poems uttered pretty merry conceits, and these men were called Epigrammatistes. There were others that for the people's good instruction, and trial of their own wits used in places of great assembly, to say by rote numbers of short and sententious meetres, very pithy and of good edification, and thereupon were called Poets Mimistes: as who would say, imitable and meet to be followed for their wise and grave lessons. There was another kind of poem, invented only to make sport, & to refresh the company with a manner of buffoonery or counterfeiting of merry speeches, converting all that which they had hard spoken before, to a certain derision by a quite contrary sense, and this was done, when Comedies or Tragedies were a playing, & that between the acts when the players went to make ready for another, there was great silence, and the people waxed weary, than came in these manner of counterfeit vices, they were called Pantomimi, and all that had before been said, or great part of it, they gave a cross construction to it very ridiculously. Thus have you how the names of the Poets were given them by the forms of their poems and manner of writing.   

CHAP. XII.  
In what form of Poesy the gods of the Gentiles were praised and honoured.  
THe gods of the Gentiles were honoured by their poets in hymns, which is an extraordinary and divine praise, extolling and magnifying them for their great powers and excellence of nature in the highest degree of laud, and yet therein their Poets were after a sort restrained: so as they could not with their credit untruly praise their own gods, or use in their lauds any manner of gross adulation or unueritable report. For in any writer untruth and flattery are counted most great reproaches. Wherefore to praise the gods of the Gentiles, for that by authority of their own fabulous records, they had fathers and mothers, and kindred and allies, and wives and concubines: the Poets first commended them by their genealogies or pedigrees, their marriages and alliances, their notable exploits in the world for the behoof of mankind, and yet as I said before, none otherwise then the truth of their own memorials might bear, and in such sort as it might be well avouched by their old written reports, though in very deed they were not from the beginning all historically true, and many of them very fictions, and such of them as were true, were grounded upon some part of an history or matter of verity, the rest altogether figurative & mystical, covertly applied to some moral or natural sense, as Cicero setteth it forth in his books de natura deorum. For to say that jupiter was son to Saturn, and that he married his own sister juno, might be true, for such was the guise of all great Princes in the Oriental part of the world both at those days and now is. Again that he loved Danae, Europa, Leda, Calisto & other fair Ladies daughters to kings, besides many meaner women, it is likely enough, because he was reported to be a very incontinent person, and given over to his lusts, as are for the most part all the greatest Princes, but that he should be the highest god in heaven, or that he should thunder and lighten, and do many other things very unnaturally and absurdly: also that Saturnus should geld his father Celius, to th'intent to make him unable to get any more children, and other such matters as are reported by them, it seemeth to be some witty devise and fiction made for a purpose, or a very noble and impudent lie, which could not be reasonably suspected by the Poets, who were otherwise discreet and grave men, and teachers of wisdom to others. Therefore either to transgress the rules of their primitive records, or to seek to give their gods honour by belying them (otherwise then in that sense which I have alleged) had been a sign not only of an unskilful Poet, but also of a very impudent and lewd man. For untrue praise never giveth any true reputation. But with us Christians, who be better disciplined, and do acknowledge but one God Almighty, everlasting, and in every respect self suffizant [autharcos] reposed in all perfect rest & sovereign bliss, not needing or exacting any foreign help or good. To him we can not exhibit overmuch praise, nor belie him any ways, unless it be in abasing his excellency by scarcity of praise, or by misconceaving his divine nature, weening to praise him, if we impute to him such vain delights and peevish affections, as commonly the frailest men are reproved for. Namely to make him ambitious of honour, jealous and difficult in his worships, terrible, angry, vindicative, a lover, a hater, a pitier, and indigent of man's worships: finally so passionate as in effect he should be altogether Anthropopathis. To the gods of the Gentiles they might well attribute these infirmities, for they were but the children of men, great Princes and famous in the world, and not for any other respect divine, then by some resemblance of virtue they had to do good, and to benefit many. So as to the God of the Christians, such divine praise might be verified: to th'other gods none, but figuratively or in mystical sense as hath been said. In which sort the ancient Poets did in deed give them great honours & praises, and made to them sacrifices, & offered them oblations of sundry sorts, even as the people were taught and persuaded by such placations and worships to receive any help, comfort or benefit to themselves, their wives, children, possessions or goods. For if that opinion were not, who would acknowledge any God? the very Etymology of the name with us of the North parts of the world declaring plainly the nature of the attribute, which is all one as if we said good, [bonus] or a giver of good things. Therefore the Gentiles prayed for peace to the goddess Pallas: for war (such as thrived by it) to the god Mars: for honour and empire to the god jupiter: for riches & wealth to Pluto: for eloquence and gain to Mercury: for safe navigation to Neptune: for fair weather and prosperous winds to Aeolus: for skill in music and leechcraft to Apollo: for free life & chastity to Diana: for beauty and good grace, as also for issue & prosperity in love to Venus: for plenty of crop and corn 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 goddess, & the fever quartain had her altars, such blindness & ignorance reigned in the hearts of men at that time, and whereof it first proceeded and grew, besides th'opinion hath been given, appeareth more at large in our books of jerotekni, the matter being of another consideration then to be treated of in this work. And these hymns to the gods was the first form of Poesy 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 Churches the Psalms of David, but they did it commonly in some shady groves of tall timber trees: In which places they reared altars of green turf, and bestrewed them all over with flowers, and upon them offered their oblations and made their bloody sacrifices, (for no kind of gift can be dearer than life) of such quick cattaille, as every god was in their conceit most delighted in, or in some other respect most fit for the mystery: temples or churches or other chapels than these they had none at those days.   

CHAP. XIII.  
In what form of Poesy vice and the common abuses of man's life was reprehended.  
SOme perchance would think that next after the praise and honouring of their gods, should commence the worshippings and praise of good men, and specially of great Princes and governors of the earth in sovereignty and function next unto the gods. But it is not so, for before that came to pass, the Poets or holy Priests, chief studied the rebuke of vice, and to carp at the common abuses, such as were most offensive to the public and private, for as yet for lack of good civility and wholesome doctrines, there was greater store of lewd lourdaines then of wise and learned Lords, or of noble and virtuous Princes and governors. So as next after the honours exhibited to their gods, the Poets finding in man generally much to reprove & little to praise, made certain poems in plain meetres, more like to sermons or preachings then otherwise, and when the people were assembled together in those hallowed places dedicate to their gods, because they had yet no large halls or places of conventicle, nor had any other correction of their faults, but such as rested only in rebukes of wise and grave men, such as at these days make the people ashamed rather then afeard, the said ancient Poets used for that purpose, three kinds of poems reprehensive, to wit, the Satire, the Comedy, & the Tragedy: and the first and most bitter invective against vice and vicious men, was the Satire: which to th'intent their bitterness should breed none ill will, either to the Poets, or to the recitours, (which could not have been chosen if they had been openly known) and beside to make their admonitions and reproofs seem graver and of more efficacy, they made wise as if the gods of the woods, whom they called satires or Sylvans, should appear and recite those verses of rebuke, whereas in deed they were but disguised persons under the shape of satires as who would say, these terrene and base gods being conversant with man's affairs, and spiers out of all their secret faults: had some great care over man, & desired by good admonitions to reform the evil of their life, and to bring the bad to amendment by those kind of preachings, whereupon the Poet's inventors of the devise were called Satyristes'.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
How vice was afterward reproved by two other manner of poems, better reform then the Satire, whereof the first was Comedy, the second Tragedy.  
But when these manner of solitary speeches and recitals of rebuke, uttered by the rural gods out of bushes and briars, seemed not to the finer heads sufficiently persuasive, nor so popular as if it were reduced into action of many persons, or by many voices lively represented to the ear and eye, so as a man might think it were even now a doing. The Poets devised to have many parts played at once by two or three or four persons, that debated the matters of the world, sometimes of their own private affairs, sometimes of their neighbours, but never meddling with any Prince's matters nor such high personages, but commonly of merchants, soldiers, artificers, good honest householders, and also of unthrifty youths, young damsels, old nurses, bawds, brokers, ruffians and parasites, with such like, in whose behaviours, lieth in effect the whole course and trade of man's life, and therefore tended altogether 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 shows. And this kind of poem was called Comedy, and followed next after the Satire, & by that occasion was somewhat sharp and bitter after the nature of the Satire, openly & by express names taxing men more maliciously and impudently then became, so as they were enforced for fear of quarrel & blame to disguise their players with strange apparel, and by colouring their faces and carrying hats & caps of diverse fashions to make themselves less known. But as time & experience do reform every thing that is amiss, so this bitter poem called the old Comedy, being disused and taken away, the new Comedy came in place, more civil and pleasant a great deal and not touching any man by name, but in a certain generality glancing at every abuse, so as from thenceforth fearing none ill-will or enmity at any body's hands, they left aside their disguisings & played bare face, till one Roscius Gallus the most excellent player among the Romans brought up these vizards, which we see at this day used, partly to supply the want of players, when there were more parts than there were persons, or that it was not thought meet to trouble & pester princes chambers with too many folks. Now by the change of a vizard one man might play the king and the carter, the old nurse & the young damsel, the merchant & the soldier or any other part he listed very conveniently. There be that say Roscius did it for another purpose, for being himself the best Histrien or buffoon that was in his days to be found, insomuch as Cicero said Roscius contended with him by variety of lively gestures to surmount the copy of his speech, yet because he was squint eyed and had a very unpleasant countenance, and looks which made him ridiculous or rather odious to the presence, he devised these vizards to hide his own ill-favoured face. And thus much touching the Comedy.   

CHAP. XV.  
In what form of Poesy the evil and outrageous behaviours of Princes were reprehended.  
But because in those days when the Poets first taxed by Satire and Comedy, there was no great store of Kings or Emperors or such high estates (all men being yet for the most part rude, & in a manner popularly equal) they could not say of them or of their behaviours any thing to the purpose, which cases of Princes are sithence taken for the highest and greatest matters of all. But after that some men among the more became mighty and famous in the world, sovereignty and dominion having learned them all manner of lusts and licentiousness of life, by which occasions also their high estates and felicities fell many times into most low and lamentable fortunes: whereas before in their great prosperities they were both feared and reverenced in the highest degree, after their deaths when the posterity stood no more in dread of them, their infamous life and tyrannies were laid open to all the world, their wickedness reproached, their follies and extreme insolences derided, and their miserable ends painted out in plays and pageants, to show the mutability of fortune, and the just punishment of God in revenge of a vicious and evil life. These matters were also handled by the Poets and represented by action as that of the Comedies: but because the matter was higher than that of the Comedies the Poet's style was also higher and more lofty, the provision greater, the place more magnificent: for which purpose also the players garments were made more rich & costly and solemn, and every other thing appertaining, according to that rate: So as where the Satire was pronounced by rustical and naked Sylvans speaking out of a bush, & the common players of interludes called Plampedes, played barefoot upon the floor: the later Comedies upon scaffolds, and by men well and cleanly hosed and shod. These matters of great Princes were played upon lofty stages, & the actors thereof aware upon their legs buskins of leather called Cothurni, and other solemn habits, & for a special pre-eminence did walk upon those high corked shoes or pantofles, which now they call in Spain & Italy Shoppini. And because those buskins and high shoes were commonly made of goat's skins very finely tanned, and died into colours: or for that as some say the best players reward, was a goat to be given him, or for that as other think, a goat was the peculiar sacrifice to the god Pan, king of all the gods of the woods: forasmuch as a goat in Greek is called Tragos, therefore these stately plays were called Tragedies. And thus have ye four sundry forms of Poesy Dramatic reprehensive, & put in execution by the feat & dexterity of man's body, to wit, the Satire, old Comedy, new Comedy, and Tragedy, whereas all other kind of poems except Eglogue whereof shallbe entreated hereafter, were only recited by mouth or song with the voice to some melodious instrument.   

CHAP. XVI.  
In what form of Poesy the great Princes and dominators of the world were honoured.  
But 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 great Princes by Tragedy in especial, (& not till after their deaths) as hath been before remembered, to th'intent that such exemplifying (as it were) of their blames and adversities, being now dead, might work for a secret reprehension to others that were alive, living in the same or like abuses. So was it great reason that all good and virtuous persons should for their well doings be rewarded with commendation, and the great Princes above all others with honours and praises, being for many respects of greater moment, to have them good & virtuous than any inferior sort of men. Wherefore the Poets being in deed the trumpeters of all praise and also of slander (not slander, but well deserved reproach) were in conscience & credit bound next after the divine praises of the immortal gods, to yield a like rateable honour to all such amongst men, as most resembled the gods by excellence of function, and had a certain affinity with them, by more than human and ordinary virtues showed in their actions here upon earth. They were therefore praised by a second degree of laud: showing their high estates, their Princely genealogies and pedigrees, marriages, alliances, and such noble exploits, as they had done in th'affairs of peace & of war to the benefit of their people and countries, by invention of any noble science, or profitable Art, or by making wholesome laws or enlarging of their dominions by honourable and just conquests, and many other ways. Such personages among the Gentiles were Bacchus, Ceres, Perseus, Hercules, Theseus and many other, who thereby came to be accounted gods and half gods or goddesses [Heroes] & had their commendations given by Hymn accordingly or by such other poems as their memory was thereby made famous to the posterity for ever after, as shall be more at large said in place convenient. But first we will speak somewhat of the playing places, and provisions which were made for their pageants & pomps representative before remembered.   

CHAP. XVII.  
Of the places where their interludes or poems dramatic were represented to the people.  
AS it hath been declared, the satires were first uttered in their hallowed places within the woods where they honoured their gods under the open heaven, because they had no other housing fit for great assemblies. The old comedies were played in the broad streets upon wagons or carts uncovered, which carts were floored with boards & made for removable stages to pass from one street of their towns to another, where all the people might stand at their ease to gaze upon the sights. Their new comedies or civil interludes were played in open pavilions or tents of linen cloth or leather, half displayed that the people might see. Afterward when Tragedies came up they devised to present them upon scaffolds or stages of timber, shadowed with linen or leather as the other, and these stages were made in the form of a Semicircle, whereof the bow served for the beholders to sit in, and the string or forepart was appointed for the floor or place where the players uttered, & had in it sundry little divisions by curtains as traverses to serve for several rooms where they might repair unto & change their garments & come in again, as their speeches & parts were to be renewed. Also there was place appointed for the musiciens to sing or to play upon their instruments at the end of every scene, to the intent the people might be refreshed, and kept occupied. This manner of stage in half circle, the Greeks called theatrum, as much to say as a beholding place, which was also in such sort contrived by benches and greeces to stand or sit upon, as no man should impeach another's sight. But as civility and withal wealth increased, so did the mind of man grow daily more haughty and superfluous in all his devices, so as for their theatres in half circle, they came to be by the great magnificence of the Roman princes and people somptuously built with marble & square stone in form all round, & were called amphitheatres, whereof as yet appears one among the ancient ruins of Rome, built by Pompeius Magnus, for capacity able to receive at ease fourscore thousand persons as it is left written, & so curiously contrived as every man might departed at his pleasure, without any annoyance to other. It is also to be known that in those great amphitheatres, were exhibited all manner of other shows & disports for the people, as their fence plays, or digladiations of naked men, their wrestlings, runings, leapings and other practices of activity and strength, also their baitings of wild beasts, as Elephants, Rhinocerons, Tigers, Leopards and others, which sights much delighted the common people, and therefore the places required to be large and of great content.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
Of the Shepherds or pastoral Poesy called Eglogue, and to what purpose it was first invented and used.  
SOme be of opinion, and the chief of those who have written in this Art among the Latins, that the pastoral Poesy which we commonly call by the name of Eglogue and Bucolick, a term brought in by the Sicilian Poets, should be the first of any other, and before the Satire comedy or tragedy, because, say they, the shepherds and Hayward's assemblies & meetings when they kept their cattle and herds in the common fields and forests, was the first familiar conversation, and their babble and talk under bushes and shady trees, the first disputation and contentious reasoning, and their fleshly heats growing of ease, the first idle woo, and their songs made to their mates or paramours either upon sorrow or jollity of courage, the first amorous musics, sometime also they sang and played on their pipes for wagers, striving who should get the best game, and be counted cunningest. All this I do agree unto, for no doubt the shepherds life was the first example of honest fellowship, their trade the first art of lawful acquisition or purchase, for at those days robbery was a manner of purchase. So saith Aristotle in his books of the Politics, and that pasturage was before tillage, or fishing or fowling, or any other predatory art or chevisance. And all this may be true, for before there was a shepherd keeper of his own, or of some other bodies flock, there was none owner in the world, quick cattle being the first property of any foreign possession. I say foreign, because always men claimed property in their apparel and armour, and other like things made by their own travel and industry, nor thereby was there yet any good town or city or King's palace, where pageants and pomps might be showed by Comedies or Tragedies. But for all this, I do deny that the Eglogue should be the first and most ancient form of artificial Poesy, being persuaded that the Poet devised the Eglogue long after the other dramatic poems, not of purpose to counterfeit or represent the rustical manner of loves and communication: but under the vail of homely persons, and in rude speeches to insinuate and glance at greater matters, and such as perchance had not been safe to have been disclosed in any other sort, which may be perceived by the Eglogues of Virgil, in which are treated by figure matters of greater importance than the loves of Titirus and Corydon. These Eglogues came after to contain and inform moral discipline, for the amendment of man's behaviour, as be those of Mantuan and other modern Poets.   

CHAP. XIX.  
Of historical Poesy, by which the famous acts of Princes and the virtuous and worthy lives of our forefathers were reported.  
THere is nothing in man of all the potential parts of his mind (reason and will except) more noble or more necessary to the active life than memory: because it maketh most to a sound judgement and perfect worldly wisdom, examining and comparing the times passed with the present, and by them both considering the time to come, concludeth with a steadfast resolution, what is the best course to be taken in all his actions and advices in this world: it came upon 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 mass of memories assembled, that is, such trials as man hath made in time before. Right so no kind of argument in all the Oratory craft, doth better persuade and more universally satisfy then example, which is but the representation of old memories, and like successes happened in times past. For these regards the Poesy historical is of all other next the divine most honourable and worthy, as well for the common benefit as for the special comfort every man receiveth by it. No one thing in the world with more delectation reviving our spirits then to behold as it were in a glass the lively image of our dear forefathers, their noble and virtuous manner of life, with other things authentic, which because we are not able otherwise to attain to the knowledge of, by any of our senses, we apprehend them by memory, whereas the present time and things so swiftly pass away, as they give us no leisure almost to look into them, and much less to know & consider of them thoroughly. The things future, being also events very uncertain, and such as can not possibly be known because they be not yet, can not be used for example nor for delight otherwise than by hope. Though many promise the contrary, by vain and deceitful arts taking upon them to reveal the truth of accidents to come, which if it were so as they surmise, are yet but sciences merely conjectural, and not of any benefit to man or to the common wealth, where they be used or professed. Therefore the good and exemplary things and actions of the former ages, were reserved only to the historical reports of wise and grave men: those of the present time left to the fruition and judgement of our senses: the future as hazards and incertain events utterly neglected and laid aside for Magicians and mockers to get their livings by: such manner of men as by negligence of Magistrates and remisses of laws every country breedeth great store of. These historical men nevertheless used not the matter so precisely to wish that all they wrote should be accounted true, for that was not needful nor expedient to the purpose, namely to be used either for example or for pleasure: considering that many times it is seen a feigned matter or altogether fabulous, besides that it maketh more mirth than any other, works no less 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 verity & none otherwise without the writers great blame. Again as ye know more and more excellent examples may be feigned in one day by a good wit, than many ages through man's frailty are able to put in ure, which made the learned and witty men of those times to devise many historical matters of no verity at all, but with purpose to do good and no hurt, as using them for a manner of discipline and precedent of commendable life. Such was the common wealth of Plato, and Sir Thomas More's Utopia, resting all in devise, but never put in execution, and easier to be wished then to be performed. And you shall perceive that histories were of three sorts, wholly true and wholly false, and a third holding part of either, but for honest recreation, and good example they were all of them. And this may be apparent to us not only by the Poetical histories, but also by those that be written in prose: for as Homer wrote a fabulous or mixed report of the siege of Troy, and another of Ulysses errors or wanderings, so did Museus compile a true treatise of the life & loves of Leander and Hero, both of them Heroick, and to none ill edification. Also as Theucidides wrote a worthy and veritable history, of the wars betwixt the Athenians and the Peloponese: so did Zenophon, a most grave Philosopher, and well trained courtier and counsellor make another (but feigned and untrue) of the childhood of Cyrus' king of Persia, nevertheless both to one effect, that is for example and good information of the posterity. Now because the actions of mean & base personages, tend in very few cases to any great good example: for who passeth to follow the steps, and manner of life of a crafts man, shepherd or sailor, though he were his father or dearest friend? yea how almost is it possible that such manner of men should be of any virtue other than their profession requireth? Therefore was nothing committed to history, but matters of great and excellent persons & things that the same by irritation of good courages (such as emulation causeth) might work more effectually, which occasioned the story writer to choose an higher style fit for his subject, the Prosaicke in prose, the Poet in metre, and the Poets was by verse exameter for his gravity and stateliness most allowable: neither would they intermingle him with any other shorter measure, unless it were in matters of such quality, as became best to be song with the voice, and to some musical instrument, as were with the Greeks, all your Hymns & Encomia of Pindarus & Callimachus, not very histories but a manner of historical reports in which cases they made those poems in variable measures, & coupled a short verse with a long to serve that purpose the better, and we ourselves who compiled this treatise have written for pleasure a little brief Romance or historical ditty in the English tongue of the Isle of great Britain in short and long meetres, and by breaches or divisions to be more commodiously song to the harp in places of assembly, where the company shallbe desirous to hear of old adventures & valiaunces of noble knights in times past, as are those of king Arthur and his knights of the round table, Sir beeves of Southampton, Guy of Warwick and others like. Such as have not premonition hereof, and consideration of the causes alleged, would peradventure reprove and disgrace every Romance, or short historical ditty for that they be not written in long metres or verses Alexandrins, according to the nature & style of large histories, wherein they should do wrong for they be sundry forms of poems and not all one.   

CHAP. XX.  
In what form of Poesy virtue in the inferior sort was commended.  
IN every degree and sort of men virtue is commendable, but not equally: not only because men's estates are unegal, but for that also virtue itself is not in every respect of equal value and estimation. For continence in a king is of greater merit, then in a carter, th'one having all opportunities to allure him to lusts, and ability to serve his appetites, th'other partly, for the baseness of his estate wanting such means and occasions, partly by dread of laws more inhibited, and not so vehemently carried away with unbridled affections, and therefore deserve not in th'one and th'other like praise nor equal reward, by the very ordinary course of distributive justice. Even so parsimony and illiberality are greater vices in a Prince then in a private person, and pusillanimity and injustice likewise: for to th'one, fortune hath supplied enough to maintain them in the contrary virtues, I mean, fortitude, justice, liberality, and magnanimity: the Prince having all plenty to use largesse by, and no want or need to drive him to do wrong. Also all the aids that may be to lift up his courage, and to make him stout and fearless (augent animos fortunae) saith the Mimist, and very truly, for nothing pulleth down a man's heart so much as adversity and lack. Again in a mean man prodigality and pride are faults more reprehensible then in Princes, whose high estates do require in their countenance, speech & expense, a certain extraordinary, and their functions enforce them sometime to exceed the limits of mediocrity not excusable in a private person, whose manner of life and calling hath no such exigence. Besides the good and bad of Princes is more exemplary, and thereby of greater moment than the private persons. Therefore it is that the inferior persons, with their inferior virtues have a certain inferior praise, to guerdon their good with, & to comfort them to continue a laudable course in the modest and honest life and behaviour. But this lieth not in written laudes so much as in ordinary reward and commendation to be given them by the mouth of the superior magistrate. For histories were not intended to so general and base a purpose, albeit many a mean soldier & other obscure persons were spoken of and made famous in stories, as we find of Irus the beggar, and Thersites the glorious noddy, whom Homer maketh mention of. But that happened (& so did many like memories of mean men) by reason of some greater parsonage or matter that it was long of, which therefore could not be an universal case nor chance to every other good and virtuous person of the meaner sort. Wherefore the Poet in praising the manner of life or death of any mean person, did it by some little ditty or Epigram or Epitaph in few verses & mean style conformable to his subject. So have you how the immortal gods were praised by hymns, the great Princes and heroic personages by ballads of praise called Encomia, both of them by historical reports of great gravity and majesty, the inferior persons by other slight poems.   

CHAP. XXI.  
The form wherein honest and profitable Arts and sciences were treated.  
THe profitable sciences were no less meet to be imported to the greater number of civil men for instruction of the people and increase of knowledge, then to be reserved and kept for clerks and great men only. So as next unto the things historical 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 savouring the Heroical, and for the gravity and comeliness of the metre most used with the Greeks and Latins to sad purposes, Such were the Philosophical works of Lucretius Carus among the Romans, the Astronomical of Aratus and Manilius, one Greek th'other Latin, the Medicinal of Nicander, and that of Oprianus of hunting and fishes, and many more that were too long to recite in this place.   

CHAP. XXII.  
In what form of Poesy the amorous affections and allurements were uttered.  
THe first founder of all good affections is honest love, as the mother of all the vicious is hatred. It was not therefore without reason that so commendable, yea honourable a thing as love well meant, were it in Princely estate or private, might in all civil common wealths be uttered in good form and order as other laudable things are. And because love is of all other human affections the most puissant and passionate, and most general to all sorts and ages of men and women, so as whether it be of the young or old or wise or holy, or high estate or low, none ever could truly brag of any exemption in that case: it requireth a form of Poesy variable, inconstant, affected, curious and most witty of any others, whereof the joys were to be uttered in one sort, the sorrows in an other, and by the many forms of Poesy, the many moods and pangs of lovers, thoroughly to be discovered: the poor souls sometimes praying, beseeching, sometime honouring, auancing, praising: an other while railing, reviling, and cursing: then sorrowing, weeping, lamenting: in the end laughing, rejoicing & solacing the beloved again, with a thousand delicate devices, odes, songs, elegies, ballads, sonnets and other ditties, moving one way and another to great compassion.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
The form of Poetical rejoicings.  
PLeasure is the chief part of man's felicity in this world, and also (as our Theologians say) in the world to come. Therefore while we may (yea always if it could be) to rejoice and take our pleasures in virtuous and honest sort, it is not only allowable, but also necessary and very natural to man. And many be the joys and consolations of the heart: but none greater, than such as he may utter and discover by some convenient means: even as to suppress and hide a man's mirth, and not to have therein a partaker, or at least wise a witness, is no little grief and infelicity. Therefore nature and civility have ordained (besides the private solaces) public reioisings for the comfort and recreation of many. And they be of diverse sorts and upon diverse occasions grown: one & the chief was for the public peace of a country the greatest of any other civil good. And wherein your Majesty (my most gracious Sovereign) have showed yourself to all the world for this one and thirty years space of your glorious reign, above all other Princes of Christendom, not only fortunate, but also most sufficient virtuous and worthy of Empire. An other is for just & honourable victory achieved against the foreign enemy. A third at solemn feasts and pomps of coronations and enstallments of honourable orders. An other for jollity at weddings and marriages. An other at the births of Prince's children. An other for private entertainments in Court, or other secret disports in chamber, and such solitary places. And as these rejoicings tend to divers effects, so do they also carry diverse forms and nominations: for those of victory and peace are called Triumphal, whereof we ourselves have heretofore given some example by our Triumphals written in honour of her majesties long peace. And they were used by the ancients in like manner, as we do our general processions or Litanies with banquets and bonfires and all manner of joys. Those that were to honour the persons of great Princes or to solemnize the pomps of any instalment were called Encomia, we may call them carols of honour. Those to celebrate marriages were called songs nuptial or Epithalamies, but in a certain mystical sense as shall be said hereafter. Others for magnificence at the nativities of Prince's children, or by custom used yearly upon the same days, are called songs natal or Genethliaca. Others for secret recreation and pastime in chambers with company or alone were the ordinary Musics amorous, such as might be song with voice or to the Lute, Cithaeron or harp, or danced by measures as the Italian Pavan and galliard are at these days in Prince's Courts and other places of honourable or civil assembly, and of all these we will speak in order and very briefly.   

CHAP. XXIIII.  
The form of Poetical lamentations.  
LAmenting is altogether contrary to rejoicing, every man saith so, and yet is it a piece of joy to be able to lament with ease, and freely to pour forth a man's inward sorrows and the griefs wherewith his mind is surcharged. This was a very necessary devise of the Poet and a fine, besides his poetry to play also the Physician, and not only by applying a medicine to the ordinary sickness of mankind, but by making the very grief itself (in part) cure of the disease. Now are the causes of man's sorrows many: the death of his parents, friends, allies, and children: (though many of the barbarous nations do rejoice at their burials and sorrow at their births) the overthrows and discomforts in battle, the subversions of towns and cities, the desolations of countries, the loss of goods and worldly promotions, honour and good renown: finally the travails and torments of love forlorn or ill bestowed, either by disgrace, denial, delay, and twenty other ways, that well experienced lovers could recite. Such of these griefs as might be refrained or helped by wisdom, and the parties own good endeavour, the Poet gave none order to sorrow them: for first as to the good renown it is lost, for the more part by some default of the owner, and may be by his well doings recovered again. And if it be unjustly taken away, as by untrue and famous libels, the offender's recantation may suffice for his amends: so did the Poet Stesichorus, as it is written of him in his Pallinodie upon the dispraise of Helena, and recovered his eye sight. Also for worldly goods they come and go, as things not long proprietary to any body, and are not yet subject unto fortune's dominion so, but that we ourselves are in great part accessary to our own losses and hinderances, by oversight & misguiding of ourselves and our things, therefore why should we bewail our such voluntary detriment? But death the irrecoverable loss, death the doleful departure of friends, that can never be recontinued by any other meeting or new acquaintance. Besides our uncertainty and suspicion of their estates and welfare in the places of their new abode, seemeth to carry a reasonable pretext of just sorrow. Likewise the great overthrows in battle and desolations of countries by wars, aswell for the loss of many lives and much liberty as for that it toucheth the whole state, and every private man hath his portion in the damage: Finally for love, there is no frailty in flesh and blood so excusable as it, no comfort or discomfort greater than the good and bad success thereof, nothing more natural to man, nothing of more force to vanquish his will and to inveigle his judgement. Therefore of death and burials, of th'adversities by wars, and of true love lost or ill bestowed, are th'only sorrows that the noble Poets sought by their art to remove or appease, not with any medicament of a contrary temper, as the Galemstes use to cure [contraria contrarijs] but as the Paracelsians, who cure [similia similibus] making one dolour to expel another, and in this case, one short sorrowing the remedy of a long and grievous sorrow. And the lamenting of deaths was chief at the very burials of the dead, also at months minds and longer times, by custom continued yearly, when as they used many offices of service and love towards the dead, and thereupon are called Obsequies in our vulgar, which was done not only by cladding the mourners their friends and servants in black vestures, of shape doleful and sad, but also by woeful countenances and voices, and beside by Poetical mournings in verse. Such funeral songs were called Epicedia if they were song by many, and Monodia if they were uttered by one alone, and this was used at the interment of Princes and others of great account, and it was reckoned a great civility to use such ceremonies, as at this day is also in some country used. In Rome they accustomed to make orations funeral and commendatory of the dead parties in the public place called Procostris: and our Theologians, in stead thereof use to make sermons, both teaching the people some good learning, and also saying well of the departed. Those songs of the dolorous discomfits in battle, and other desolations in war, or of towns saccaged and subverted, were song by the remnant of the army overthrown, with great skriking and outcries, holding the wrong end of their weapon upwards in sign of sorrow and despair. The cities also made general mournings & offered sacrifices with Poetical songs to appease the wrath of the martial gods & goddesses. The third sorrowing was of loves, by long lamentation in Elegy: so was their song called, and it was in a piteous manner of metre, placing a limping Pentameter, after a lusty Exameter, which made it go dolourously more than any other meeter.   

CHAP. XXV.  
Of the solemn rejoicings at the nativity of Prince's children.  
TO return from sorrow to rejoicing it is a very good hap and no unwise part for him that can do it, I say therefore, that the comfort of issue and procreation of children is so natural and so great, not only to all men but specially to Princes, as duty and civility have made it a common custom to rejoice at the birth of their noble children, and to keep those days hallowed and festival for ever once in the year, during the parents or children's lives: and that by public order & consent. Of which rejoicings and mirths the Poet ministered the first occasion honourable, by presenting of joyful songs and ballads, praising the parents by proof, the child by hope, the whole kindred by report, & the day itself with wishes of all good success, long life, health & prosperity for ever to the new borne. These poems were called in Greek Genetliaca, with us they may be called natal or birth songs.   

CHAP. XXVI.  
The manner of rejoicings at marriages and weddings.  
AS the consolation of children well begotten is great, no less but rather greater aught to be that which is occasion of children, that is honourable matrimony, a love by all laws allowed, not mutable nor encumbered with such vain cares & passions, as that other love, whereof there is no assurance, but lose and fickle affection occasioned for the most part by sudden sights and acquaintance of no long trial or experience, nor upon any other good ground wherein any surety may be conceived: wherefore the Civil Poet could do no less in conscience and credit, then as he had before done to the ballad of birth: now with much better devotion to celebrate by his poem the cheerful day of marriages aswell Princely as others, for that hath always been accounted with every country and nation of never so barbarous people, the highest & holiest, of any ceremony appertaining to man: a match forsooth made for ever and not for a day, a solace provided for youth, a comfort for age, a knot of alliance & amity indissoluble: great rejoicing was therefore due to such a matter and to so gladsome a time. This was done in ballad wise as the natal song, and was song very sweetly by musicans at the chamber door of the Bridegroom and Bride at such times as shallbe hereafter declared and they were called Epithalamies as much to say as ballads at the bedding of the bride: for such as were song at the board at dinner or supper were other Musics and not properly Epithalamies. Here, if I shall say that which appertaineth to th'art, and disclose the mystery of the whole matter, I must and do with all humble reverence bespeak pardon of the chaste and honourable ears, lest I should either offend them with licentious speech, or leave them ignorant of the ancient guise in old times used at weddings (in my simple opinion) nothing reprovable. This epithalamy was divided by breaches into three parts to serve for three several fits or times to be song. The first breach was song at the first part of the night when the spouse and her husband were brought to their bed & at the very chamber door, where in a large utter room used to be (besides the musitiens) good store of ladies or gentlewomen of their kinsfolks, & others who came to honour the marriage, & the tunes of the songs were very loud and shrill, to the intent there might no noise be hard out of the bed chamber by the screeking & outcry of the young damosel feeling the first forces of her stiff & rigorous young man, she being as all virgins tender & weak, & unexpert in those manner of affairs. For which purpose also they used by old nurses (appointed to that service) to suppress the noise by casting of pots full of nuts round about the chamber upon the hard floor or pavement, for they used no mats nor rushes as we do now. So as the Ladies and gentlewomen should have their ears so occupied what with Music, and what with their hands wanton scambling and catching after the nuts, that they could not intend to hearken after any other thing. This was as I said to diminish the noise of the laughing lamenting spouse. The tenor 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, them afterward to sound cheerfully to the onset and first encounters of that amorous battle, to declare the comfort of children, & increase of love by that mean chiefly caused: the bride showing herself every ways well disposed and still supplying occasions of new lusts and love to her husband, by her obedience and amorous embracings and all other allurements. About midnight or one of the clock, the Musicians came again to the chamber door (all the Ladies and other women as they were of degree, having taken their leave, and being gone to their rest.) This part of the ballad was to refresh the faint and wearied bodies and spirits, and to animate new appetites with cheerful words, encoraging them to the recontinuance of the same entertainments, praising and commending (by supposal) the good conformities of them both, & their desire one to vanquish the other by such friendly conflicts: alleging that the first embracementes never bred barns, by reason of their overmuch affection and heat, but only made passage for children and enforced greater liking to the late made match. That the second assaults, were less rigorous, but more vigorous and apt to advance the purpose of procreation, that therefore they should persist in all good appetite with an invincible courage to the end. This was the second part of the epithalamy. In the morning when it was fair broad day, & that by likelihood all turns were sufficiently served, the last acts of the interlude being ended, & that the bride must within few hours arise and apparel herself, no more as a virgin, but as a wife, and about dinner time must by order come forth Sicut sponsade thalamo, very demurely and stately to be seen and acknowledged of her parents and kinsfolks whether she were the same woman or a changeling, or dead or alive, or maimed by any accident nocturnal. The same Musicians came again with this last part, and greeted them both with a Psalm of new applausions, for that they had either of them so well behaved themselves that night, the husband to rob his spouse of her maidenhead and save her life, the bride so lustily to satisfy her husbands love and scape with so little danger of her person, for which good chance that they should make a lovely truce and abstinence of that war till next night sealing the placard of that lovely league, with twenty manner of sweet kisses, then by good admonitions informed them to the frugal & thrifty life all the rest of their days. The good man getting and bringing home, the wife saving that which her husband should get, therewith to be the better able to keep good hospitality, according to their estates, and to bring up their children, (if God sent any) virtuously, and the better by their own good example. Finally to persever all the rest of their life in true and inviolable wedlock. This ceremony was omitted when men married widows or such as had tasted the fruits of love before, (we call them well experienced young women) in whom there was no fear of danger to their persons, or of any outcry at all, at the time of those terrible approaches. Thus much touching the usage of epithalamy or bedding ballad of the ancient times, in which if there were any wanton or lascivious matter more than ordinary which they called Ficenina licentia it was borne withal for that time because of the matter no less requiring. Catullus hath made of them one or two very artificial and civil: but none more excellent then of late years a young noble man of Germany as I take it Johannes secundus who in that and in his poem Debasis, passeth any of the ancient or modern poets in my judgement.   

CHAP. XXVII.  
The manner of Poesy by which they uttered their bitter taunts, and privy nips, or witty scoffs and other merry conceits.  
But all the world could not keep, nor any civil ordinance to the contrary so prevail, but that men would and must needs utter their spleens in all ordinary matters also: or else it seemed their bowels would burst, therefore the poet devised a pretty fashioned poem short and sweet (as we are wont to say) and called it Epigramma in which every merry conceited man might without any long study or tedious ambage, make his friend sport, and anger his foe, and give a pretty nip, or show a sharp conceit in few verses: for this Epigram is but an inscription or writing made as it were upon a table, or in a window, or upon the wall or mantel of a chimney in some place of common resort, where it was allowed every man might come, or be sitting to chat and prate, as now in our taverns and common tabling houses, where many merry heads meet, and scribble with ink with chalk, or with a coal such matters as they would every man should know, & descant upon. Afterward the same came to be put in paper and in books, and used as ordinary missives, some of friendship, some of defiance, or as other messages of mirth: martial was the chief of this skill among the Latins, & at ahese days the best Epigrams we find, & of the sharpest conceit are those that have been gathered among the relics of the two mute satires in Rome, Pasquil and Marphorir, which in time of Sede vacant, when merry conceited men listed to gibe & jest at the dead Pope, or any of his Cardinals, they fastened them upon those Images which now lie in the open streets, and were tolerated, but after that term expired they were inhibited again. These inscriptions or Epigrams at their beginning had no certain author that would avouch them, some for fear of blame, if they were over saucy or sharp, others for modesty of the writer as was that distich of Virgil which he set upon the palace gate of the emperor Augustus, which I will recite for the breifnes and quickness of it, & also for another event that fell out upon the matter worthy to be remembered. These were the verses.  
Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula mane  
Divisum imperium cum love Caesar habet.  
Which I have thus Englished, 
It rains all night, early the shows return  
God and Caesar, do reign and rule by turn.   
As much to say, God showeth his power by the night rains. Caesar his magnificence by the pomps of the day.  
These two verses were very well liked, and brought to th'emperors Majesty, who took great pleasure in them, & willed the author should be known. A saucy courtier proffered himself to be the man, and had a good reward given him: for the Emperor himself was not only learned, but of much munificence toward all learned men: whereupon Virgil seeing himself by his overmuch modesty defrauded of the reward, that an impudent had gotten by abuse of his merit, came the next night, and fastened upon the same place this half metre, four times iterated. Thus.  
Sic vos non vobis  
Sic vos non vobis  
Sic vos non vobis  
Sic vos non vobis  
And there it remained a great while because no man witted what it meant, till Virgil opened the whole fraud by this devise. He wrote above the fame half metres this whole verse Exameter.  
Hos ego versiculos feci tulit alter honores.  
And then finished the four half metres, thus.  
Sic vos non vobis Fertis aratra boves  
Sic vos non vobis Vellera fertis oves  
Sic vos non vobis Mellificatis apes  
Sic vos non vobis Indificatis aves.  
And put to his name Publius Virgilius Maro. This matter came by and by to Th'emperors ear, who taking great pleasure in the devise called for Virgil, and gave him not only a present reward, with a good allowance of diet a bonche in court as we use to call it: but also held him for ever after upon larger trial he had made of his learning and virtue in so great reputation, as he vouchsafed to give him the name of a friend (amicus) which among the Romans was so great an honour and special favour, as all such persons were allowed to the emperors table, or to the Senators who had received them (as friends) and they were the only men that came ordinarily to their boards, & solaced with them in their chambers, and gardens when none other could be admitted.   

CHAP. XXVIII.  
Of the poem called Epitaph used for memorial of the dead.  
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 parts, to his commendation or reproach: and is an inscription such as a man may commodiously write or engrave upon a tomb in few verses, pithy, quick and sententious for the passer by to peruse, and judge upon without any long tarriance: So as if it exceed the measure of an Epigram, it is then (if the verse be correspondent) rather an Elegy than an Epitaph which error many of these bastard rhymers 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 up in Churches and chauncells over the tombs of great men and others, which be so exceeding long as one must have half a days leisure to read one of them, & must be called away before he come half to the end, or else be locked into the Church by the Sexton as I myself was once served reading an Epitaph in a certain cathedral Church of England. They be ignorant of poesy that call such long tales by the name of Epitaphs, they might better call them Elegies, as I said before, and then ought neither to be engraven nor hanged up in tables. I have seen them nevertheless upon many honourable tombs of these late times erected, which do rather disgrace then honour either the matter or maker.   

CHAP. XXIX.  
A certain ancient form of poesy by which men did use to reproach their enemies.  
AS friends be a rich and joyful possession, so be foes a continual torment and canker to the mind of man, and yet there is no possible mean to avoid this inconvenience, for the best of us all, & he that thinketh he lives most blameless, lives not without enemies, that envy him for his good parts, or hate him for his evil. There be wise men, and of them the great learned man Plutarch that took upon them to persuade the benefit that men receive by their enemies, which though it may be true in manner of Paradox, yet I find man's frailty to be naturally such, and always hath been, that he cannot conceive it in his own case, nor show that patience and moderation in such griefs, as becometh the man perfit and accomplished in all virtue: but either in deed or by word, he will seek revenge against them that malice him, or practise his harms, specially such foes as oppose themselves to a man's loves. This made the ancient poets to invent a mean to rid the gall of all such Vindicative men: so as they might be a wrecked of their wrong, & never belly their enemy with slanderous untruths. And this was done by a manner of imprecation, or as we call it by cursing and banning of the parties, and wishing all evil to a light upon them, and though it never the sooner happened, yet was it great easement to the boiling stomach: They were called Dirae, such as Virgil made against Battarus, and ovid against Ibis: we Christians are forbidden to use such uncharitable fashions, and willed to refer all our revenges to God alone   

CHAP. XXX  
Of short Epigrams called Posies.  
THere be also other like Epigrams that were sent usually for new years gifts or to be Printed or put upon their banqueting dishes of sugar plate, or of march pains, & such other dainty meats as by the courtesy & custom every gest might carry from a common feast home with him to his own house, & were made for the nonce, they were called Nenia or apophoreta, and never contained above one verse, or two at the most, but the shorter the better, we call them Posies, and do paint them now a days upon the back sides of our fruit trenchers of wood, or use them as devices in rings and arms and about such courtly purposes. So have we remembered and set forth to your Majesty very briefly, all the commended forms of the ancient Poesy, which we in our vulgar makings do imitate and use under these common names: interlude, song, ballad, carol and ditty: borrowing them also from the French all saving this word (song) which is our natural Saxon English word. The rest, such as time and usurpation by custom have allowed us out of the primitive Greek & Latin, as Comedy, Tragedy, Ode, epitaph, Elegy, Epigram, and other more. And we have purposely omitted all nice or scholastical curiosities not meet for your majesties contemplation in this our vulgar art, and what we have written of the ancient forms of Poems, we have taken from the best clerks writing in the same art. The part that next followeth to wit of proportion, because the Greeks nor latins never had it in use, nor made any observation, no more than we do of their feet, we may truly affirm, to have been the first devisers thereof ourselves, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and not to have 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'author's purpose, because commonly the first attempt in any art or engine artificial is amendable, & in time by often experiences reform. And so no doubt may this devise of ours be, by others that shall take the pen in hand after us.   

CHAP. XXXI.  
Who in any age have been the most commended writers in our English Poesy, and the Authors censure given upon them.  
IT appeareth by sundry records of books both printed & written, that many of our countrymen have painfully traveled in this part: of whose works some appear to be but bare translations, other some matters of their own invention and very commendable, whereof some recital shall be made in this place, to th'intent chief that their names should not be defrauded of such honour as seemeth due to them for having by their thankful studies so much beautified our English tongue (as at this day it will be found our nation is in nothing inferior to the French or Italian for copy of language, subtlety of device, good method and proportion in any form of poem, but that they may compare with the most, and perchance pass a great many of them. And I will not reach above 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 Realm much alteration both of our language and laws, and there withal a certain martial barbarousness, whereby the study of all good learning was so much decayed, as long time after no man or very few intended to write in any laudable science: so as beyond that time there is little or nothing worth commendation to be found written in this art. And those of the first age were Chaucer and Gower both of them as I suppose Knights. After whom followed john Lydgate the monk of Bury, & that nameless, who wrote the Satire called Piers Ploughman, next him followed Harding the Chronicler, then in king Henry th'eight times Skelton, (I wots not for what great worthiness) surnamed the Poet Laureate. In the latter end of the same kings reign sprung up a new company of courtly makers, of whom Sir Thomas Wyatt th'elder & Henry Earl of Surrey were the two chieftains, who having travailed into Italy, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and style of the Italiam Poesy as novices newly crept out of the schools of Dante Arioste and Petrarch, they greatly polished our rude & homely manner of vulgar Poesy, from that it had been before, and for that cause may justly be said the first reformers of our English metre and style. In the same time or not long after was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facility in vulgar makings. Afterward in king Edward the sixth's time came to be in reputation for the same faculty Thomas Sternehold, who first translated into English certain Psalms of David, and john Hoywood the Epigrammatist who for the mirth and quickness of his conceits more than for any good learning was in him came to be well benefited by the king. But the principal man in this profession at the same time was Master Edward Ferrys a man of no less mirth & felicity that way, but of much more skill, & magnificence in his meeter, and therefore wrote for the most part to the stage, in Tragedy and sometimes in Comedy or Interlude, wherein he gave the king so much good recreation, as he had thereby many good rewards. In Queen's Maries time flourished above any other Doctor Phaer one that was well learned & excellently well translated into English verse Heroical certain books of Virgil's Aeneidos. Since him followed Master Arthure Golding, who with no less commendation turned into English metre the Metamorphosis of ovid, and that other Doctor, who made the supplement to those books of Virgil's Aeneidos, which Master Phaer left undone. And in her majesties time that now is are sprung up an other crew of Courtly makers Noble men and Gentlemen of her Majesties own servants, who have written excellently well as it would appear if their doings could be found out and made public with the rest, of which number is first that noble Gentleman Edward Earl of Oxford. Thomas Lord of Bukhurst, when he was young, Henry Lord Paget, Sir Philip Sidney, Sir Walter Raleigh, Master Edward Dyar, Master Fulke Grevell, Gascon, Britton, Turberuille and a great many other learned Gentlemen, whose names I do not omit for envy, but to avoid tediousness, and who have deserved no little commendation. But of them all particularly this is mine opinion, that Chaucer, with Gower, Lidgat and Harding for their antiquity ought to have the first place, and Chaucer as the most renowned of them all, for the much learning appeareth to be in him above any of the rest. And though many of his books be but bare translations out of the Latin & French, yet are they well handled, as his books of Troilus and Cresseid, and the Romant of the Rose, whereof he translated but one half, the device was john de Mehunes a French Poet, the Canterbury tales were Chaucer's own invention as I suppose, and where he showeth more the natural of his pleasant wit, then in any other of his works, his similitudes comparisons and all other descriptions are such as can not be amended. His metre Heroical of Troilus and Cresseid is very grave and stately, keeping the the staff of seven, and the verse of ten, his other verses of the Canterbury tales be but riding rhyme, nevertheless very well becoming the matter of that pleasant pilgrimage in which every man's part is played with much decency. Gower saving for his good and grave moralities, had nothing in him highly to be commended, for his verse was homely and without good measure, his words strained much deal out of the French writers, his rhyme wrested, and in his inventions small subtility: the applications of his moralities are the best in him, and yet those many times very grossly bestowed, neither doth the substance of his works sufficiently answer the subtility of his titles. Lydgat a translator only and no deviser of that which he wrote, but one that wrote in good verse. Harding a Poet Epic or Historical, handled himself well according to the time and manner of his subject. He that wrote the satire of Piers Ploughman, seemed to have been a malcontent of that time, and therefore bend himself wholly to tax the disorders of that age, and specially the pride of the Roman Clergy, of whose fall he seemeth to be a very true Prophet, his verse is but lose metre, and his terms hard and obscure, so as in them is little pleasure to be taken. Skelton a sharp Satirist, but with more railing and scoffery than became a Poet Laureate, such among the Greeks were called Pantomimi, with us Buffoons, altogether applying their wits to Scurrillities & other ridiculous matters. Henry Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyatt, between whom I find very little difference, I repute them (as before) for the two chief lanterns of light to all others that have since employed their pens upon English Poesy, their conceits were lofty, their styles stately, their conveyance cleanly, their terms proper, their metre sweet and well proportioned, in all imitating very naturally and studiously their Master Francis Petrarcha. The Lord Vaux his commendation lieth chief in the facility of his metre, and the aptness of his descriptions such as he taketh upon him to make, namely in sundry of his Songs, wherein he showeth the counterfeit action very lively & pleasantly. Of the later sort I think thus. That for Tragedy, the Lord of Buckhurst, & Master Edward Ferrys for such doings as I have seen of theirs do deserve the highest price: Th'earl of Oxford and Master Edwardes of her majesties Chapel for Comedy and Interlude. For Eglogue and pastoral Poesy, Sir Philip Sidney and Master Challenner, and that other Gentleman who wrote the late shepherds Calendar. For ditty and amorous Ode I find Sir Walter Rawleyghs vain most lofty, insolent, and passionate. Master Edward Dyar, for Elegy most sweet, solemn and of high conceit. Gascon for a good meeter and for a plentiful vain. Phaer and Golding for a learned and well corrected verse, specially in translation clear and very faithfully answering their authors intent. Others have also written with much facility, but more commendably perchance if they had not written so much nor so popularly. But last in recital and first in degree is the Queen our sovereign Lady, whose learned, delicate, noble Muse, easily surmounteth all the rest that have written before her time or since, for sense, sweetness and subtility, be it in Ode, Elegy, Epigram, or any other kind of poem Heroick or Lyric, wherein it shall please her Majesty to employ her pen, even by as much odds as her own excellent estate and degree exceedeth all the rest of her most humble vassals.    

THE SECOND BOOK, OF PROPORTION POETICAL.  

CHAP. I.  
Of Proportion Poetical.  
IT is said by such as profess the Mathematical sciences, that all things stand by proportion, and that without it nothing could stand to be good or beautiful. The Doctors of our Theology to the same effect, but in other terms, say: that God made the world by number, measure and weight: some for weight say tune, and peradventure better. For weight is a kind of measure or of much conveniency with it: and therefore in their descriptions be always coupled together (statica & metrica) weight and measures. Hereupon it seemeth the Philosopher gathers a triple proportion, to wit, the Arithmetical, the Geometrical, and the Musical. And by one of these three is every other proportion guided of the things that have conveniency by relation, as the visible by light colour and shadow: the audible by stirs, times and accents: the odorable by smells of sundry temperaments: the tastible by savours to the rate: the tangible by his objects in this or that regard. Of all which we leave to speak, returning to our poetical proportion, which holdeth of the Musical, because as we said before Poesy is a skill to speak & write harmonically: and verses or rhyme be a kind of Musical utterance, by reason of a certain congruity in sounds pleasing the ear, though not perchance so exquisitely as the harmonical concents of the artificial Music, consisting in strained tunes, as is the vocal Music, or that of melodious instruments, as Lutes, haps, Regals, Records and such like. And this our proportion Poetical resteth in five points: Staff, Measure, Concord, Situation and figure all which shall be spoken of in their places.   

CHAP. II.  
Of proportion in Staff.  
Staff in our vulgar Poesy I know not why it should be so called, unless it be for that we understand it for a bearer or supporter of a song or ballad, not unlike the old weak body, that is stayed up by his staff, and were not otherwise able to walk or to stand upright. The Italian called it Stanza, as if we should say a resting place: and if we consider well the form of this Poetical staff, we shall find it to be a certain number of verses allowed to go altogether and join without any intermission, and do or should finish up all the sentences of the same with a full period, unless it be in some special cases, & there to stay till another staff follow of like sort: and the shortest staff containeth not under four verses, nor the longest above ten, if it pass that number it is rather a whole ditty then properly a staff. Also for the more part the staves stand rather upon the even number of verses than the odd, though there be of both sorts. The first proportion then of a staff is by quadrien or four verses. The second of five verses, and is seldom used. The third by sizeine or six verses, and is not only most usual, but also very pleasant to th'ear. The fourth is in seven verses, & is the chief of our ancient proportions used by any rhymer writing any thing of historical or grave poem, as ye may see in Chaucer and Lidgate th'one writing the loves of Troilus and Cresseida, th'other of the fall of Princes: both by them translated not devised. The first proportion is of eight verses very stately and Heroic, and which I like better than that of seven, because it receiveth better band. The sixth is of nine verses, rare but very grave. The seventh proportion is of ten verses, very stately, but in many men's opinion too long: nevertheless of very good grace & much gravity. Of eleven and twelve I find none ordinary staves used in any vulgar language, neither doth it serve well to continue any historical report or ballad, or other song: but is a ditty of itself, and no staff, yet some modern waiters have used it but very seldom. Then last of all have ye a proportion to be used in the number of your staves, as to a carol and a ballad, to a song, & a round, or virelay. For to an historical poem no certain number is limited, but as the matter falls out: also a distich or couple of verses is not to be accounted a staff, but serves for a continuance as we see in Elegy, Epitaph, Epigram or such meetres, of plain concord not harmonically entertangled, as some other songs of more delicate music be.  
A staff of four verses containeth in itself matter sufficient to make a full period or complement of sense, though it do not always so, and therefore may go by divisions.  
A staff of five verses, is not much used because he that can not comprehend his period in four verses, will rather drive it into six then leave it in five, for that the even number is more agreeable to the ear then the odd is.  
A staff of six verses, is very pleasant to the ear, and also serveth for a greater complement than the inferior staves, which maketh him more commonly to be used.  
A staff of seven verses, most usual with our ancient makers, also the staff of eight, nine and ten of larger complement than the rest, are only used by the later makers, & unless they go with very good band, do not so well as the inferior staves. Therefore if ye make your staff of eight, by two fowers not entertangled, it is not a huitaine or a staff of eight, but two quadreins, so is it in ten verses, not being entertangled they be but two staves of five.   

CHAP. III.  
Of proportion in measure.  
MEeter and measure is all one, for what the Greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Latins call Mensura, and is but the quantity of a verse, either long or short. This quantity with them consisteth in the number of their feet: & with us in the number of syllables, which are comprehended in every verse, not regarding his feet, otherwise then that we allow in scanning our verse, two syllables to make one short portion (suppose it a foot) in every verse. And after that sort ye may say, we have feet in our vulgar rhymes, but that is improperly: for a foot by his sense natural is a member of office and function, and serveth to three purposes, that is to say, to go, to run, & to stand still so: as he must be sometimes swift, sometimes slow, sometime unegally marching or peradventure steady. And if our feet Poetical want these qualities it can not be said a foot in sense translative as here. And this cometh to pass, by reason of the evident motion and stir, which is perceived in the sounding of our words not always equal: for some ask longer, some shorter time to be uttered in, & so by the Philosopher's definition, stir is the true measure of time. The Greeks & Latins because their words happened to be of many syllables, and very few of one syllable, it fell out right with them to conceive and also to perceive, a notable diversity of motion and times in the pronunciation of their words, and therefore to every bissillable they allowed two times, & to a trissillable three times, & to every polisillable more, according to his quantity, & their times were some long, some short according as their motions were slow or swift. For the sound of some syllable stayd the ear a great while, and others slid away so quickly, as if they had not been pronounced, than every syllable being allowed one time, either short or long, it fell out that every tetrasillable had four times, every trissillable three, and the bissillable two, by which observation every word, not under that size, as he ran or stood in a verse, was called by them a foot 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 upon the word trissillable, calling him a foot 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 four syllables they called a foot of four times, some or all of them, either long or short: and yet not so content they mounted higher, and because their words served well thereto, they made feet of six times: but this proceeded more of curiosity, than otherwise: for whatsoever foot pass the trissillable is compounded of his inferior as every number Arithmetical above three, is compounded of the inferior numbers as twice two make four, but the three is made of one number, videl. of two and an unity. Now because our natural & primitive language of the Saxon English, bears not any words (at least very few) of more syllables than one (for whatsoever we see exceed, cometh to us by the alterations of our language grown upon many conquests and otherwise) there could be no such observation of times in the sound of our words, & for that cause we could not have the feet which the Greeks and Latins have in their meetres: but of this stir & motion of their devised feet, nothing can better show the quality than these runners at common games, who setting forth from the first goal, one giveth the start speedily & perhaps before he come half way to th'other goal, decayeth his pace, as a man weary & fainting: another is slow at the start, but by amending his pace keeps even 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 proceeds unegally sometimes swift sometimes slow as his breath or forces serve him: another sort there be that plod on, & will never change their pace, whether they win or lose the game: in this manner doth the Greek dactilus begin slowly and keep on swifter till th'end, for his race being divided into three parts, he spends one, & that is the first slowly, the other twain swiftly: the anapestus his two first parts swiftly, his last slowly: the Molossus spends all three parts of his race slowly and equally Bacchius his first part swiftly, & two last parts slowly. The tribrachus all his three parts swiftly: the antibacchius his two first parts 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 middle part slowly, & so of others by like proportion. This was a pretty fantastical observation of them, & yet brought their meetres to have a marvelous good grace, which was in Greek called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: whence we have derived this word rhyme, but improperly & not well because we have no such feet or times or stirs in our metres, by whose sympathy, or pleasant conveniency with th'ear, we could take any delight: this rithmus of theirs, is not therefore our rhyme, but a certain musical numerosity in utterance, and not a bare number as that of the Arithmetical computation is, which therefore is not called rithmus but arithmus. Take this away from them, I mean the running of their feet, there is nothing of curiosity among them more than with us nor yet so much.   

CHAP. III.  
How many sorts of measures we use in our vulgar.  
TO return from rhyme to our measure again, it hath been said that according to the number of the syllables contained in every verse, the same is said a long or short meeter, and his shortest proportion is of four syllables, and his longest of twelve, they that use it above, pass the bounds of good proportion. And every meeter may be aswell in the odd as in the even syllable, but better in the even, and one verse may begin in the even, & another follow in the odd, and so keep a commendable proportion. The verse that containeth but two syllables, which may be in one word, is not usual: therefore many do deny him to be a verse, saying that it is but a foot, and that a meeter can have no less than two feet at the least, but I find it otherwise aswell among the best Italian Poets, as also with our vulgar makers, and that two syllables serve well for a short measure in the first place, and middle, and end of a staff: and also in diverse situations and by sundry distances, and is very passionate and of good grace, as shallbe declared more at large in the Chapter of proportion by situation.  
The next measure is of two feet or of four syllables, and then one word tetrasillable divided in the midst makes up the whole meeter, as thus 
Rēuē rēntlīe  Or a trissillable and one monosillable thus. Sovereign God, or two bissillables and that is pleasant thus, Restore again, or with four monossillables, and that is best of all thus, When I do think, I find no savour in a metre of three syllables nor in effect in any odd, but they may be used for variety sake, and specially being interlaced with others the metre of six syllables is very sweet and delicate as thus.  
O God when I behold  
This bright heaven so high  
By thine own hands of old  
Contrived so cunningly.  
The metre of seven syllables is not usual, no more is that of nine and eleven, yet if they be well composed, that is, their Cesure well appointed, and their last accent which makes the concord, they are commendable enough, as in this ditty where one verse is of eight an other is of seven, and in the one the accent upon the last, in the other upon the last save on.  
The smoky sighs, the bitter tears  
That I in vain have wasted  
The broken sleeps, the woe and fears  
That long in me have lasted  
Will be my death, all by thy guilt  
And not by my deserving  
Since so inconstantly thou wilt  
Not love but still be swerving.  
And all the reason why these metres in all syllable are allowable is, for that the sharp accent falls upon the penultima or last save one syllable of the verse, which doth so drown the last, as he seemeth to pass away in manner unpronounced, & so make the verse seem even: but if the accent fall upon the last and leave two flat to finish the verse, it will not seem so: for the odnes will more notoriously appear, as for example in the last verse before recited Not love but still be swerving, say thus Love it is a marvelous thing. Both verses be of equal quantity, vidz. seven syllables a piece, and yet the first seems shorter than the later, who shows a more oddness than the former by reason of his sharp accent which is upon the last syllable, and makes him more audible than if he had slid away with a flat accent, as the word swéruing.  
Your ordinary rhymers use very much their measures in the odd as nine and eleven, and the sharp accent upon the last syllable, which therefore makes him go ill favouredly and like a minstrels music. Thus said one in a meeter of eleven very harshly in mine ear, whether it be for lack of good rhyme or of good reason, or of both I wots not.  
Now suck child and sleep child, thy mothers own joy  
Her only sweet comfort, to drown all annoy  
For beauty surpassing the azured sky  
I love thee my darling, as ball of mine eye.  
This sort of compotition in the odd I like not, unless it be helped by the Cesure or by the accent as I said before.  
The meeter of eight is no less pleasant than that of six, and the Cesure falls just in the middle, as this of the Earl of Surreyes.  
When raging love, with extreme pain.  
The meeeter of ten syllables is very stately and Heroical, and must have his Cesure fall upon the fourth syllable, and leave six behind him thus.  
I serve at ease, and govern all with woe.  
This meeter of twelve syllables the French man calleth a verse Alexandrine, and is with our modern rhymers most usual: with the ancient makers it was not so. For before Sir Thomas Wiat's time they were not used in our vulgar, they be for grave and stately matters fit than for any other ditty of pleasure. Some makers writ in verses of fourteen syllables giving the Cesure at the first eight, which proportion is tedious, for the length of the verse keepeth the ear too long from his delight, which is to hear the cadence or the tunable accent in the end of the verse. Nevertheless that of twelve if his Cesure be just in the middle, and that ye suffer him to run at full length, and do not as the common rhymers do, or their Printer for sparing of paper, cut them of in the midst, wherein they make in two verses but half rhyme. They do very well as wrote the Earl of Surrey translating the book of the preacher.  
Solomon David's son, king of jerusalem.  
This verse is a very good Alexandrine, but perchance would have sounded more musically, if the first word had been a dissillable, or two monosillables and not a trissillable: having his sharp accent upon the Antepenultima as it hath, by which occasion it runs like a Dactill, and carries the two later syllables away so speedily as it seems but one foot in our vulgar measure, and by that means makes the verse seem but of eleven syllables, which oddness is nothing pleasant to the ear. judge some body whether it would have done better (if it might) have been said thus, 
Robóham David's son king of jerusalem.  Letting the sharp accent fall upon bo, or thus 
Restóre king Dáuids' son untó jerúsalém  For now the sharp accent falls upon bo, and so doth it upon the last in restóre, which was not in th'other verse. But because we have seemed to make mention of Cesure, and to appoint his place in every measure, it shall not be amiss to say somewhat more of it, & also of such pauses as are used in utterance, & what commodity or delectation they bring either to the speakers or to the hearers.   

CHAP. FOUR  
Of Cesure.  
THere is no greater difference betwixt a civil and brutish utterance then clear distinction of voices: and the most laudable languages are always most plain and distinct, and the barbarous most confuse and indistinct: it is therefore requisite that leisure be taken in pronunciation, such as may make our words plain & most audible and agreeable to the ear: also the breath asketh to be now and then relieved with some pause or stay more or less: besides that the very nature of speech (because it goeth by clauses of several construction & sense) requireth some space betwixt them with intermission of sound, to th'end they may not huddle one upon another so rudly & so fast that th'ear may not perceive their difference. For these respects the ancient reformers of language, invented, three manner of pauses, one of less leisure than another, and such several intermissions of sound to serve (besides easment to the breath) for a triple distinction of sentences or parts of speech, as they happened to be more or less perfect in sense. The shortest pause or intermission they called comma as who would say a piece of a speech cut of. The second they called colon, not a piece but as it were a member for his larger length, because it occupied twice as much time as the comma. The third they called periodus, for a compliment or full pause, and as a resting place and perfection of so much former speech as had been uttered, and from whence they needed not to pass any further unless it were to renew more matter to enlarge the tale. This cannot be better represented then by example of these common travailers by the high ways, where they seem to allow themselves three manner of stays or easements: one a horseback calling perchance for a cup of beer or wine, and having drunken it up rides away and never lights: about noon he cometh to his Inn, & there baits himself and his horse an hour or more: at night when he can conveniently travail no further, he taketh up his lodging, and rests himself till the morrow: from whence he followeth the course of a further voyage, if his business be such. Even so our Poet when he hath made one verse, hath as it were finished one days journey, & the while easeth himself with one bait at the least, which is a Comma or Cesure in the mid way, if the verse be even and not odd, otherwise in some other place, and not just in the middle. If there be no Cesure at all, and the verse long, the less is the maker's skill and hearers delight. Therefore in a verse of twelve syllables the Cesure ought to fall right upon the sixth syllable: in a verse of eleven upon the sixth also leaving five to follow. In a verse often upon the fourth, leaving six to follow. In a verse of nine upon the fourth, leaving five to follow. In a verse of eight just in the midst, that is, upon the fourth. In a verse of seven, either upon the fourth or none at all, the meeter very ill brooking any pause. In a verse of six syllables and under is needful no Cesure at all, because the breath asketh no relief: yet if ye give any Comma, it is to make distinction of sense more than for any thing else: and such Cesure must never be made in the midst of any word, if it be well appointed. So may you see that the use of these pauses or distinctions is not generally with the vulgar Poet as it is with the Prose writer because the poets chief Music lying in his rhyme or concord to hear the symphony, he maketh all the hast he can to be at an end of his verse, and delights not in many stays by the way, and therefore giveth but one Cesure to any verse: and thus much for the sounding of a metre. Nevertheless he may use in any verse both his comma, colon, and interrogative point, as well as in prose. But our ancient rymers, as Chaucer, Lydgate & others, used these Cesures either very seldom, or not at all, or else very licentiously, and many times made their meetres (they called them riding rhyme) of such unshapely words as would allow no convenient Cesure, and therefore did let their rhymes run out at length, and never stayd till they came to the end: which manner though it were not to be misliked in some sort of metre, yet in every long verse the Cesure ought to be kept precisely, if it were but to serve as a law to correct the licentiousness of rymers, besides that it pleaseth the ear better, & showeth more cunning in the maker by following the rule of his restraint. For a rymer that will be tied to no rules at all, but range as he list, may easily utter what he will: but such manner of Poesy is called it our vulgar, rhyme doggerel, with which rebuke we will in no case our maker should be touched. Therefore before all other things let his rhyme and concords be true, clear and audible with no less delight, than almost the strained note of a Musicians mouth, & not dark or wrenched by wrong writing as many do to patch up their meetres, and so follow in their art neither rule, reason, nor rhyme. Much more might be said for the use of your three pauses, comma, colon, & period, for perchance it be not all a matter to use many commas, and few, nor colons likewise, or long or short periods, for it is diversly used, by divers good writers. But because it appertaineth more to the orator or writer in prose then in verse, I will say no more in it, than thus, that they be used for a commodious and sensible distinction of clauses in prose, since every verse is as it were a clause of itself, and limited with a Cesure howsoever the sense bear, perfect or imperfect, which difference is observable betwixt the prose and the meeter.   

CHAP. V.  
Of Proportion in Concord, called Symphony or rhyme.  
BEcause we use the word rhyme (though by manner of abusion) yet to help that fault again we apply it in our vulgar Poesy another way very commendably & curiously. For wanting the currantness of the Greek and Latin feet, in stead thereof we make in th'ends of our verses a certain tunable sound: which anon after with another verse reasonably distant we accord together in the last fall or cadence: the ear taking pleasure to hear the like tune reported, and to feel his return. And for this purpose serve the monosillables of our English Saxons excellently well, because they do naturally and indifferently receive any accent, & in them if they finish the verse, resteth the shrill accent of necessity, and so doth it not in the last of every bissillable, nor of every polisillable word: but to the purpose, rhyme is a borrowed word from the Greeks by the Latins and French, from them by us Saxon angles and by abusion as hath been said, and therefore it shall not do amiss to tell what this rithmos was with the Greeks, for what is it with us hath been already said. There is an accountable number which we call arithmetical (arithmos) as one, two, three. There is also a musical or audible number, fashioned by stirring of tunes & their sundry times in the utterance of our words, as when the voice goeth high or low, or sharp or flat, or swift or slow: & this is called rithmos or numerosity, that is to say, a certain flowing utterance by slipper words and syllables such as the tongue easily utters, and the ear with pleasure receiveth, and which flowing of words with much volubility smoothly proceeding from the mouth is in some sort harmonical and breedeth to th'ear a great compassion. This point grew by the smooth and delicate running of their feet, which we have not in our vulgar, though we use as much as may be the most flowing words & slippery syllables, that we can pick out: yet do not we call that by the name of rhyme, as the Greeks did: but do give the name of rhyme only to our concords, or tunable consents in the latter end of our verses, and which concords the Greeks nor latins never used in their Poesy till by the barbarous soldiers out of the camp, it was brought into the Court and thence to the school, as hath been before remembered: and yet the Greeks and Latins both used a manner of speech, by clauses of like termination, which they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and was the nearest that they approached to our rhyme: but is not our right concord: so as we in abusing this term (rhyme) be nevertheless excusable applying it to another point in Poesy no less curious than their rhythm or numerosity which in deed passed the whole verse throughout, whereas our concords keep but the latter end of every verse, or perchance the middle and the end in meetres that be long.   

CHAP. VI  
Of accent, time and stir perceived evidently in the distinction of man's voice, and which makes the flowing of a meeter.  
Now because we have spoken of accent, time and stir or motion in words, we will set you down more at large what they be. The ancient Greeks and Latins by reason their speech fell out originally to be fashioned with words of many syllables for the most part, it was of necessity that they could not utter every syllable with one like and equal sound, nor in like space of time, nor with like motion or agility: but that one must be more suddenly and quickly forsaken, or longer paused upon then another: or sounded with a higher note & clearer voice than another, and of necessity this diversity of sound, must fall either upon the last syllable, or upon the last save one, or upon the third and could not reach higher to make any notable difference, it caused them to give unto three different sounds, three several names: to that which was highest lift up and most elevate or shrillest in the ear, they gave the name of the sharp accent, to the lowest and most base because it seemed to fall down rather then to rise up, they gave the name of the heavy accent, and that other which seemed in part to lift up and in part to fall down, they called the circumflex, or compassed accent: and if new terms were not odious, we might very properly call him the (windabout) for so is the Greek word. Then because every thing that by nature falls down is said heavy, & whatsoever naturally mounts upward is said light, it gave occasion to say that there were diversities in the motion of the voice, as swift & slow, which motion also presupposes time, because time is mensura motus, by the Philosopher: so have you the causes of their primitive invention and use in our art of Poesy, all this by good observation we may perceive in our vulgar words if they be of more syllables then one, but specially if they be trissillables, as for example in these words [altitude] and [heaviness] the sharp accent falls upon [all] & [he] which be the antepenultimaes: the other two fall away speedily as if they were scarce sounded in this trissilable [forsaken] the sharp accent falls upon [sa] which is the penultima, and in the other two is heavy and obscure. Again in these bissillables, endúre, unsúre, demúre: aspíre, desíre, retíre, your sharp accent falls upon the last syllable: but in words monosillable which be for the more part our natural Saxon English, the accent is indifferent, and may be used for sharp or flat and heavy at our pleasure. I say Saxon English, for our Normane English alloweth us very many bissillables, and also trissillables as, reverence, diligence, amorous, desirous, and such like.   

CHAP. VII.  
Of your Cadences by which your meeter is made symphonical when they be sweetest and most solemn in a verse.  
AS the smoothness of your words and syllables running upon feet of sundry quantities, make with the Greeks and Latins the body of their verses numerous or rhythmical, so in our vulgar Poesy, and of all other nations at this day, your verses answering each other by couples, or at larger distances in good [cadence] is it that maketh your meeter symphonical. This cadence is the fall of a verse in every last word with a certain tunable sound which being matched with another of like sound, do make a [concord.] And the whole cadence is contained sometime in one syllable, sometime in two, or in three at the most: for above the antepenultima there reacheth no accent (which is chief cause of the cadence) unless it be by usurpation in some English words, to which we give a sharp accent upon the fourth as, Hónorable, mátrimonie, pátrimonie, míserable, and such other as would neither make a sweet cadence, nor easily find any word of like quantity to match them. And the accented syllable with all the rest under him make the cadence, and no syllable above, as in these words, Agíllitie, facíllitie, subiéction, diréction, and these bissilables, Ténder, slénder, trústie, lústie, but always the cadence which falleth upon the last syllable of a verse is sweetest and most commendable: that upon the penultima more light, and not so pleasant: but falling upon the antepenultima is most unpleasant of all, because they make your meeter too light and trivial, and are fit for the Epigrammatist or Comical Poet then for the Lyric and Elegiac, which are accounted the sweeter Musics. But though we have said that (to make good concord) your several verses should have their cadences like, yet must there be some difference in their orthography, 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 syllable, or void but one of them away, then will your cadences be good and your concord to, as to say, restrain, refrain, remain: aspire, desire, retire: which rule nevertheless is not well observed by many makers for lack of good judgement and a delicate ear. And this may suffice to show the use and nature of your cadences, which are in effect all the sweetness and cunning in our vulgar Poesy.   

CHAP. VIII.  
How the good maker will not wrench his word to help his rhyme, either by falsifying his accent, or by untrue orthography.  
NOw there can not be in a maker a fouler fault, then to falsify his accent to serve his cadence, or by untrue orthography to wrench his words to help his rhyme, for it is a sign that such a maker it not copious in his own language, or (as they are wont to say) not half his craft's master: as for example, if one should rhyme to this word [Restore] he may not match him with [Door] or [poor] for neither of both are of like terminant, either by good orthography or in natural sound, therefore such rhyme is strained, so is it to this word [Ram] to say [came] or to [bean [Den] for they sound not nor be written a like, & many other like cadences which were superfluous to recite, and are usual with rude rhymers who observe not precisely the rules of [prosody] nevertheless in all such cases (if necessity constrained) it is somewhat more tolerable to help the rhyme by false orthography, then to leave an unpleasant dissonance to the ear, by keeping true orthography and losing the rhyme, as for example it is better to rhyme [Door] with [Restore] then in his truer orthography, which is [Door] and to this word [Desire] to say [Fire] then fire though it be otherwise better written fire. For since the chief grace of our vulgar Poesy consisteth in the Symphony, as hath been already said, our maker must not be too licentious in his concords, but see that they go even, just and melodious in the ear, and right so in the numerosity or currantness of the whole body of his verse, and in every 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 rhymers and specially Gower, who to make up his rhyme would for the most part write his terminant syllable with false orthography, and many times not stick to put in a plain French word for an English, & so by your leave do many of our common rhymers at this day: as he that by all likelihood, having no word at hand to rhyme to this word [joy] he made his other verse end in [Roy] saying very impudently thus, 
O mighty Lord of love, dame Venus only joy  
Who art the highest God of any heavenly Roy.  Which word was never yet received in our language for an English word. Such extreme licentiousness is utterly to be banished from our school, and better it might have been borne with in old rhyming writers, because they lived in a barbarous age, & were grave moral men but very homely Poets, such also as made most of their works by translation out of the Latin and French tongue, & few or none of their own engine as may easily be known to them that list to look upon the Poems of both languages.  
Finally as ye may rhyme with words of all sorts, be they of many syllables or few, so nevertheless is there a choice by which to make your cadence (before remembered) most commendable, for some words of exceeding great length, which have been fetched from the Latin inkhorn or borrowed of strangers, the use of them in rhyme is nothing pleasant, saving perchance to the common people, who rejoice much to be at plays and interludes, and besides their natural ignorance, have at all such times their ears so attentive to the matter, and their eyes upon the shows of the stage, that they take little heed to the cunning of the rhyme, and therefore be as well satisfied with that which is gross, as with any other finer and more delicate.   

CHAP. IX.  
Of concord in long and short measures, and by near or far distances, and which of them is most commendable.  
But this ye must observe withal, that because your concords contain the chief part of Music in your metre, their distances may not be too wide or far a sunder, lest th'ear should lose the tune, and be defrauded of his delight, and whensoever ye see any maker use large and extraordinary distances, ye must think he doth intend to show himself more artificial than popular, and yet therein is not to be discommended, for respects that shallbe remembered in some other place of this book.  
Note also that rhyme or concord is not commendably used both in the end and middle of a verse, unless it be in toys and trifling Poesies, for it showeth a certain lightness either of the matter or of the maker's head, albeit these common rhymers use it much, for as I said before, like as the Symphony in a verse of great length, is (as it were) lost by looking after him, and yet may the metre be very grave and stately: so on the other side doth the over busy and too speedy return of one manner of tune, too much annoy & as it were glut the ear, unless it be in small & popular Musics sung by these Cantabanqui upon benches and barrels heads where they have none other audience than boys or country fellows that pass by them in the street, or else by blind harpers or such like tavern minstrels that give 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 reports of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwick, Adam Bell, and climb of the Clough & such other old Romances or historical rhymes, made purposely for recreation of the common people at Christmas divers & brideales, and in taverns & alehouses and such other places of base resort, also they be used in Carols and rounds and such light or lascivious Poems, which are commonly more commodiously uttered by these buffoons or vices in plays then by any other person. Such were the rhymes of Skelton (usurping the name of a Poet Laureate) being in deed but a rude railing rhymer & all his doings ridiculous, he used both short distances and short measures pleasing only the popular ear: in our courtly maker we banish them utterly. Now also have ye in every song or ditty concord by compass & concord entertangled and a mixed of both, what that is and how they be used shallbe declared in the chapter of proportion by situation.   

CHAP. X.  
Of proportion by situation.  
THis proportion consisteth in placing of every verse in a staff or ditty by such reasonable distances, as may best serve the ear for delight, and also to show the Poet's art and variety of Music, and the proportion is double. One by marshalling the meetres, and limiting their distances having regard to the rhyme or concord how they go and return: another by placing every verse, having a regard to his measure and quantity only, and not to his concord as to set one short metre to three long, or four short and two long, or a short measure and a long, or of divers lengths with relation one to another, which manner of Situation, even without respect of the rhyme, doth alter the nature of the Poesy, and make it either lighter or graver, or more merry, or mournful, and many ways passionate to the ear and heart of the hearer, seeming for this point that our maker by his measures and concords of sundry proportions doth counterfeit the harmonical tunes of the vocal and instrumental Musics. As the Dorien because his falls, sallies and compass be divers from those of the Phrigien, the Phrigien likewise from the Lydien, and all three from the Eolien, Miolidien and jonien, mounting and falling from note to note such as be to them peculiar, and with more or less leisure or precipation. Even so by diversity of placing and situation 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 harmony not only in the ear, but also in the conceit of them that hear it: whereof this may be an ocular example.  


Situation in 

Concord  
Measure      
Where ye see the concord or rhyme in the third distance, and the measure in the fourth, sixth or second distances, whereof ye may devise as many other as ye list, so the staff be able to bear it. And I set you down an ocular example: because ye may the better conceive it. Likewise it so falleth out most times your ocular proportion doth declare the nature of the audible: for if it please the ear well, the same represented by delineation to the view pleaseth the eye well and è converso: and this is by a natural sympathy, between the ear and the eye, and between tunes & colours, even as there is the like between the other senses and their objects of which it appertaineth not here to speak. Now for the distances usually observed in our vulgar Poesy, they be in the first second third and fourth verse, or if the verse be very short in the fift and sixth and in some manner of Musics far above.  
And these ten little metres make but one Exameter at length.  
—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,  
And all that can be objected against this wide distance is to say that the ear by losing his concord is not satisfied. So is in deed the rude and popular ear but not the learned, and therefore the Poet must know to whose ear he maketh his rhyme, and accommodate himself thereto, and not give such music to the rude and barbarous, as he would to the learned and delicate ear.  
Besides all this there is in Situation of the concords two other points one that it go by plain and clear compass not entangled: another by enterweaving one with another by knots, or as it were by band, which is more or less busy and curious, all as the maker will double or redouble his rhyme or concords, and set his distances far or nigh, of all which I will give you ocular examples, as thus.  


Concord in 

Plain compass  
Entertangle.      
The Sixaine or staff of six hath ten proportions, whereof some be usual, some not usual, and not so sweet one as another.  
The staff of seven verses hath seven proportions, whereof one only is the usual of our vulgar, and kept by our old Poets Chaucer and other in their historical reports and other ditties: as in the last part of them that follow next.  
The huitain or staff of eight verses, hath eight proportions such as the former staff, and because he is longer, he hath one more than the settaine.  
The staff of nine verses hath yet more than the eight, and the staff often more than the ninth and the twelfth, if such were allowable in ditties, more than any of them all, by reason of his largeness receiving more compasses and enterweaving, always considered that the very large distances be more artificial, then popularly pleasant, and yet do give great grace and gravity, and move passion and affections more vehemently, as it is well to be observed by Petrarcha his Canzoni.  
Now ye may perceive by these proportions before described, that there is a band to be given every verse in a staff, so as none fall out alone or uncoupled, and this band maketh that the staff is said fast and not lose: even as ye see in buildings of stone or brick the mason giveth a band, that is a length to two breadths, & upon necessity divers other sorts of bands to hold in the work fast and maintain the perpendicularitie of the wall: so in any staff of seven or eight or more verses, the coupling of the more metres by rhyme or concord, is the faster band: the fewer the loser band, and therefore in a huiteine he that putteth four verses in one concord and four in another concord, and in a dizaine five, showeth himself more cunning, and also more copious in his own language. For he that can find two words of concord, can not find four or five or six, unless he have his own language at will. Sometime also ye are driven of necessity to close and make band more than ye would, lest otherwise the staff should fall asunder and seem two staves: and this is in a staff of eight and ten verses: whereas without a band in the middle, it would seem two quàdriens or two quintaines, which is an error that many makers slide away with. Yet Chaucer and others in the staff of seven and six do almost as much a miss, for they shut up the staff with a distich, concording with none other verse that went before, and maketh but a lose rhyme, and yet because of the double cadence in the last two verses serve the ear well enough. And as there is in every staff, band, given to the verses by concord more or less busy: so is there in some cases a band given to every staff, and that is by one whole verse running alone throughout the ditty or ballad, either in the middle or end of every staff. The Greeks called such uncoupled verse Epimonie, the Latins Versus intercalaris. Now touching the situation of measures, there are as many or more proportions of them which I refer to the maker's fantasy and choice, contented with two or three ocular examples and no more.  
Which manner of proportion by situation of measures giveth more efficacy to the matter oftentimes then the concords themselves, and both proportions concurring together as they needs must, it is of much more beauty and force to the hearers mind.  
To finish the learning of this division, I will set you down one example of a ditty written extempore with this devise, showing not only much promptness of wit in the maker, but also great art and a notable memory. Make me saith this writer to one of the company, so many strokes or lines with your pen as ye would have your song contain verses: and let every line bear his several length, even as ye would have your verse of measure. Suppose of four, five, six or eight or more syllables, and set a figure of every number at th'end of the line, whereby ye may know his measure. Then where you will have your rhyme or concord to fall, mark it with a compassed stroke or semicircle passing over those lines, be they far or near in distance, as ye have seen before described. And because ye shall not think the maker hath premeditated beforehand any such fashioned ditty, do ye yourself make one verse whether it be of perfect or imperfect sense, and give it him for a theme to make all the rest upon: if ye shall perceive the maker do keep the measures and rhyme as ye have appointed him, and beside do make his ditty sensible and ensuant to the first verse in good reason, then may ye say he is his craft's master. For if he were not of a plentiful discourse, he could not upon the sudden shape an entire ditty upon your imperfect theme or proposition in one verse. And if he were not copious in his language, he could not have such store of words at commandment, as should supply your concords. And if he were not of a marvelous good memory he could not observe the rhyme and measures after the distances of your limitation, keeping with all gravity and good sense in the whole ditty.   

CHAP. XI.  
Of Proportion in figure.  
YOur last proportion is that of figure, so called for that it yields an ocular representation, your metres being by good symmetry reduced into certain Geometrical figures, whereby the maker is restrained to keep him within his bounds, and showeth not only more art, but serveth also much better for briefness and subtlety of device. And for the same respect are also fittest for the pretty amourets in Court to entertain their servants and the time withal, their delicate wits requiring some commendable exercise to keep them from idleness. I find not of this proportion used by any of the Greek or Latin Poets, or in any vulgar writer, saving of that one form which they call Anacreens egg. But being in Italy conversant with a certain gentleman, who had long travailed the Oriental parts of the world, and seen the Courts of the great Princes of China and Tartary. I being very inquisitive to know of the subtillities of those countries, and especially in matter of learning and of their vulgar Poesy, he told me that they are in all their inventions most witty, and have the use of Poesy or rhyming, but do not delight so much as we do in long tedious descriptions, and therefore when they will utter any pretty conceit, they reduce it into metrical feet, and put it in form of a lozenge or square, or such other figure, and so engraven in gold, silver or ivory, and sometimes with letters of ametist, ruby, emerald or topas curiously cemented and peeced together, they send them in chains, bracelets, collars and girdles to their mistresses to wear for a remembrance. Some few measures composed in this sort this gentleman gave me, which I translated word for word and as near as I could followed both the phrase and the figure, which is somewhat hard to perform, because of the restraint of the figure from which ye may not digress. At the beginning they will seem nothing pleasant to an English ear, but time and usage will make them acceptable enough, as it doth in all other new guises, be it for wearing of apparel or otherwise. The forms of your Geometrical figures be hereunder represented.  

The lozenge called Rombus   

The Fuzie or spindle, called Romboides   

The Triangle, or Tricquet   

The Square or quadrangle   

The Pilaster, or Cillinder   

The Spire or taper, called pyramis   

The Rondel or Sphere   

The egg or figure oval   

The Tricquet reversed   

The Tricquet displayed   

The Taper reversed   

The Rondel displayed   

The lozenge reversed   

The egg displayed   

The lozenge rabbated   

Of the lozenge.  
The lozenge is a most beautiful figure, & fit for this purpose, being in his kind a quadrangle reversed, with his point upward like to a quarrel of glass the Greeks and Latins both call it Rombus which may be the cause as I suppose why they also gave that name to the fish commonly called the Turbot, who beareth justly that figure, it ought not to contain above thirteen or fifteen or one & twenty meetres, & the longest furnisheth the middle angle, the rest pass upward and downward, still abating their lengths by one or two syllables till they come to the point: the Fuzie is of the same nature but that he is sharper and slenderer. I will give you an example or two of those which my Italian friend bestowed upon me, which as near as I could I translated into the same figure observing the phrase of the Oriental speech word for word.  
A great Emperor in Tartary whom they call Can, for his good fortune in the wars & many notable conquests he had made, was surnamed Temir Cutzclewe, this man loved the Lady Kermesine, who presented him returning from the conquest of Corasoon (a great kingdom adjoining) with this lozenge made in letters of rubies & diamonds intermingled, thus  

Sound  
O Harp  
Shrill lie out  
Temir the stout  
Rider who with sharp  
Trenching blade of bright steel  
Hath made his fiercest foes to feel  
All such as wrought him shame or harm  
The strength of his brave right arm,  
Cleaving hard down unto the eyes  
The raw skulls of his enemies,  
Much honour hath he won  
By doughty deeds done  
In Cora soon  
And all the  
World  
Round.   
To which Can Temir answered in Fuzie, with letters of Emeralds and Ametists artificially cut and intermingled, thus  

Five  
Sore battles  
Manfully fought  
In bloody field  
With bright blade in hand  
Hath Temir won & forced to yield  
Many a Captain strong and stout  
And many a king his Crown to veil,  
Conquering large countries and land,  
Yet ne ver wan I vi cto rye,  
I speak it to my great glory,  
So dear and joy full un to me,  
As when I did first con quere thee  
O Kerme sine, of all mine foes  
The most cruel, of all mine woes  
The smartest, the sweetest  
My proud Con quest  
My vi chest pray  
O once a day  
Lend me thy sight  
Whose only light  
Keeps me  
Alive.    

Of the Triangle or Triquet.  
The Triangle is an half square, lozenge or Fuzie parted upon the cross angles: and so his base being broad and his top narrow, it receiveth meetres of many sizes one shorter than another: and ye may use this figure standing or reversed, as thus.  
A certain great Sultan of Persia called Ribuska, entertains in love the Lady Selamour, sent her this triquet reuest piteously bemoaning his estate, all set in merquetry with letters of blue sapphire and Topas artificially cut and intermingled.  

Selamour dearer than his own life,  
To thy distressed wretch captive,  
Re buska whom lately cast  
Most cru el lie thou pierced  
With thy dead  dart,  
That pair of stars  
Shining a far  
Turn from me, to me  
That I may & may not see  
The smile, the louvre  
That lead and drive  
Me to die to live  
Tw●se yea thrice  
In— one  
hour.   
To which Selamour to make the match equal, and the figure entire, answered in a standing Triquet richly engraven with letters of like stuff.  

Power  
Of death  
Nor of life  
Hath Selamour,  
With Gods it is rife  
To give and bereave breath,  
I may for pity perchance  
Thy lost liberty restore,  
Upon thine oath with this penance,  
That while thou livest thou never love no more.   
This condition seeming to Sultan Ribuska very hard to perform, and cruel to be enjoined him, doth by another figure in Taper, signifying hope, answer the Lady Selamour, which ditty for lack of time I translated not.   

Of the Spire or Taper called Pyramid.  
The Taper is the longest and sharpest triangle that is, & while he mounts upward he waxeth continually more slender, taking both his figure and name of the fire, whose flame if ye mark it, is always pointed, and naturally by his form covets to climb: the Greeks call him Pyramid of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Latins in use of Architecture call him Obeliscus, it holdeth the altitude of six ordinary triangles, and in metrifying his base can not well be larger than a metre of six, therefore in his altitude he will require divers rabates to hold so many sizes of meetres as shall serve for his composition, for near the top there willbe room little enough for a metre of two syllables, and sometimes of one to finish the point. I have set you down one or two examples to try how ye can digest the manner of the devise.  

Her Majesty, for many parts in her most noble and virtuous nature to be found, resembled to the spire. Ye must begin beneath according to the nature of the device  

Sky.   

Azurd  
in the  
assured,   

And better,  
And richer,  
Much greater,   

Crown & empir  
After an hire  
For to aspire  
Like stame of fire  
In form of spire   

To mount on high,  
Con ti nu all   
With travel & teen  
Most gracious queen  
Ye have made a vow  
Shows us plainly how  
Not feigned but true,  
To every man's view,  
Shining clear in you  
Of so bright an hew,  
Even thus virtue   

Vanish out of our sight  
Till his fine top be quite  
To Taper in the air  
Endeavours soft and fair  
By his kindly nature  
Of tall comely stature  
Like as this fair figure    

From God the fountain of all good, are derived into the world all good things: and upon her majesty all the good fortunes any worldly creature can be furnished with. Read downward according to the nature of the device.  

God  
On  
High   

From  
Above  
Sends love,  
Wisdom,  
justice  
Courage,  
Bounty,  
And doth give  
All that live,   

Life & breath  
Heart's ease health  
Children, wealth  
Beauty strength  
Restful age,  
And at length  
A mild death.   

He doth bestow  
All men's fortunes  
Both high & low  
And the best things  
That earth can have  
Or mankind crave,  
Good queens & kings  
Fi nally is the same  
Who gave you (madam)  
Seyson of this Crown  
With pour sovereign   

Impug able right,  
Redoubtable might,  
Most prosperous reign  
Eternal renown,  
And that your chiefest is  
Sure hope of heavens bliss.     

The Pillar, Pilaster or Cillinder.  
The Pillar is a figure among all the rest of the Geometrical most beautiful, in respect that he is tall and upright and of one bigness from the bottom to the top. In Architecture he is considered with two accessary parts, a pedestal or base, and a chapter or head, the body is the shaft. By this figure is signified stay, support, rest, state and magnificence, your ditty then being reduced into the form of a Pillar, his base will require to bear the breath of a metre of six or seven or eight syllables: the shaft of four: the chapter equal with the base, of this proportion I will give you one or two examples which may suffice.  

Her Majesty resembled to the crowned pillar. Ye must read upward.  
Is bliss with immortality.  
Her trymest top of all ye see,  
Garnish the crown  
Her just renown  
Chapter and head,  
Parts that maintain  
And womanhood  
Her maiden reign  
Integrity:  
In honour and  
With verity:  
Her roundness stand  
Strengthen the state.  
By their increase  
Without debate  
Concord and peace  
Of her support,  
They be the base  
With steadfastness  
Virtue and grace  
Stay and comfort  
Of Albion's rest,  
The sound Pillar  
And seen a far  
Is plainly expressed  
Tall stately and straight  
By this noble pourtrays   

Philo to the Lady Calia, sendeth this Odolet of her praise in form of a Pillar, which ye must read downward.  
Thy Princely port and Majesty  
Is my terrene deity,  
Thy wit and sense  
The stream & source  
Of eloquence  
And deep discourse,  
Thy fair eyes are  
My bright lodestar,  
Thy speech a dart  
Piercing my heart,  
Thy face alas,  
My looking glass,  
Thy lovely looks  
My prayer books,  
Thy pleasant cheer  
My sunshine clear,  
Thy rueful sight  
My dark midnight,  
Thy will the stint  
Of my content,  
Thy glory flou●  
Of mine honour,  
Thy love doth give  
The life I live,  
Thy life it is  
Mine earthly bliss:  
But grace & favour in thine eyes  
My body's soul & souls paradise.    

The roundel or Sphere.  
The most excellent of all the figures Geometrical is the round for his many perfections. First because he is even & smooth, without any angle, or interruption, most voluble and apt to turn, and to continue motion, which is the author of life: he containeth in him the commodious description of every other figure, & for his ample capacity doth resemble the world or universe, & for his indefiniteness having no special place of beginning nor end, beareth a similitude with God and eternity. This figure hath three principal parts in his nature and use much considerable: the circle, the beam, and the centre. The circle is his largest compass or circumference: the centre is his middle and indivisible point: the beam is a line stretching directly from the circle to the centre, & contrariwise from the centre to the circle. By this description our maker may fashion his metre in Roundel, either with the circumference, and that is circlewise, or from the circumference, that is, like a beam, or by the circumference, and that is overthwart and dyametrally from one side of the circle to the other.  

A general resemblance of the roundel to God, the world and the Queen.  
All and whole, and ever, and one,  
Single, simple, each where, alone,  
These be counted as Clerks can tell,  
True properties, of the roundel.  
His still turning by consequence  
And change, do breed both life and sense.  
Time, measure of stir and rest,  
Is also by his course expressed.  
How swift the circle stir above,  
His centre point doth never move:  
All things that ever were or be,  
Are closed in his concavity.  
And though he be, still turned and tossed,  
No room there wants nor none is lost.  
The roundel hath no bonch or angle,  
Which may his course stay or entangle.  
The furthest part of all his sphere,  
Is equally both far and near.  
So doth none other figure far  
Where natures chattels closed are:  
And beyond his wide compass,  
There is no body nor no place,  
Nor any wit that comprehends,  
Where it gins, or where it ends:  
And therefore all men do agree,  
That it purports eternity.  
God above the heavens so high  
Is this roundel, in world the sky,  
Upon earth she, who bears the bell  
Of maids and Queens, is this roundel:  
All and whole and ever alone,  
Single, sans peer, simple, and one.   

A special and particular resemblance of her Majesty to the roundel.  
FIrst her authority regal  
Is the circle compassing all:  
The dominion great and large  
Which God hath given to her charge:  
Within which most spacious bound  
She environs her people round,  
Retaining them by oath and liegeance.  
Within the pale of true obeisance:  
Holding imparked as it were,  
Her people like to herds of dear.  
Sitting among them in the mids  
Where she allows and bannes and bids  
In what fashion she list and when,  
The services of all her men.  
Out of her breast as from an eye,  
Issue the rays incessantly  
Of her justice, bounty and might  
Spreading abroad their beams so bright,  
And reflect not, till they attain  
The farthest part of her domain.  
And makes each subject clearly see,  
What he is bounden for to be  
To God his Prince and common wealth,  
His neighbour, kindred and to himself.  
The same centre and middle prick,  
Whereto our deeds are dressed so thick,  
From all the parts and outmost side  
Of her Monarchy large and wide,  
Also fro whence reflect these rays,  
Twenty hundred manner of ways  
Where her will is them to convey  
Within the circle of her survey.  
So is the Queen of Briton ground,  
Beam, circle, centre of all my round.    

Of the square or quadrangle equilater.  
The square is of all other accounted the figure of most solliditie and steadfastness, and for his own stay and firmity requireth none other base than himself, and therefore as the roundel or Sphere is appropriate to the heavens, the Spire to the element of the fire: the Triangle to the air; and the lozenge to the water: so is the square for his inconcussable steadiness likened to the earth, which perchance might be the reason that the Prince of Philosophers in his first book of the Ethics, termeth a constant minded man, even equal and direct on all sides, and not easily overthrown by every little adversity, hominem quadratum, a square man. Into this figure may ye reduce your ditties by using no more verses than your verse is of syllables, which will make him fall out square, if ye go above it will grow into the figure Trapezion, which is some portion longer than square. I need not give you any example, because in good art all your ditties, Odes & Epigrams should keep & not exceed the number of twelve verses, and the longest verse to be of twelve syllables & not above, but under that number as much as ye will.   

The figure oval.  
This figure taketh his name of an egg, and also as it is thought his first origine, and is as it were a bastard or imperfect round declining toward a longitude, and yet keeping within one line for his periphery or compass as the round, and it seemeth that he receiveth this form not as an imperfection by any impediment unnaturally hindering his rotundity, but by the wisdom and providence of nature for the commodity of generation, in such of her creatures as bring not forth a lively body (as do four footed beasts) but in stead thereof a certain quantity of shapeless matter contained in a vessel, which after it is sequestered from the dames body receiveth life and perfection, as in the eggs of birds, fishes, and serpents: for the matter being of some quantity, and to issue out at a narrow place, for the easy passage thereof, it must of necessity bear such shape as might not be sharp and grievous to pass as an angle, nor so large or obtuse as might not essay some issue out with one part more than other as the round, therefore it must be slenderer in some part, & yet not without a rotundity & smoothness to give the rest an easy delivery. Such is the figure oval whom for his antiquity, dignity and use, I place among the rest of the figures to embellish our proportions: of this sort are divers of Anacreon's ditties, and those other of the Grecian lyrics, who wrote wanton amorous devices, to solace their wits with all, and many times they would (to give it right shape of an egg) divide a word in the midst, and piece out the next verse with the other half, as ye may see by perusing their meetres.   

Of the device or emblem, and that other which the Greeks call Anagramma, and we the Posy transposed.  
ANd besides all the remembered points of metrical proportion, ye have yet two other sorts of some affinity with them, which also first issued out of the Poet's head, and whereof the Courtly maker was the principal artificer, having many high conceits and curious imaginations, with leisure enough to attend his idle inventions: and these be the short, quick and sententious propositions, such as be at these days all your devices of arms and other amorous inscriptions which courtiers use to give and also to wear in livery for the honour of their ladies, and commonly contain but two or three words of witty sentence or secret conceit till they unfolded or explained by some interpretation. For which cause they be commonly accompanied with a figure or purtraict of ocular representation, the words so aptly corresponding to the subtility of the figure, that aswell the eye is therewith recreated as the ear or the mind. The Greeks call it Emblema, the italians Impresa, and we, a Device, such as a man may put into letters of gold and send to his mistresses for a token, or cause to be embroidered in scutcheons of arms, or in any bordure of a rich garment to give by his novelty marvel to the beholder. Such were the figures and inscriptions the Roman Emperors gave in their money and coignes of largesse, and in other great medailles of silver and gold, as that of the Emperor Augustus, an arrow entangled by the fish Remora, with these words, Festina lento, signifying that celerity is to be used with deliberation: all great enterprises being for the most part either overthrown with haste, or hindered by delay, in which case leisure in th'advice, and speed in th'execution make a very good match for a glorious success.  
Th'emperor Heliogabalus by his name alluding to the sun, which in Greek is Helios, gave for his device, the celestial sun, with these words [Solimuicto] the subtility lieth in the word [soli] which hath a double sense, viz. to the Sun, and to him only.  
We ourselves attributing that most excellent figure, for his incomparable beauty and light, to the person of our Sovereign lady altering the mot, made it far pass that of Th'emperor Heliogabalus both for subtility and multiplicity of sense, thus, [Soli nunquam deficienti] to her only that never fails, viz. in bounty and munificence toward all hers that deserve, or else thus, To her only (whose glory and good fortune may never decay or wane. And so it inureth as a wish by way of resemblance in [Simile dissimile] which is also a subtility, likening her Majesty to the Sun for his brightness, but not to him for his passion, which is ordinarily to go to glade, and sometime to suffer eclipse.  
King Edward the third, her majesties most noble progenitor, first founder of the famous order of the Garter, gave this posy with it. honey soit qui mal y pense, commonly thus Englished, Ill be to him that thinketh ill, but in mine opinion better thus, Dishonoured be he, who means unhonorably. There can not be a more excellent devise, nor that could contain larger intendment, nor greater subtility, nor (as a man may say) more virtue or Princely generosite. For first he did by it mildly & gravely reprove the perverse construction of such noble men in his court, as imputed the kings wearing about his neck the garter of the lady with whom he danced, to some amorous alliance betwixt them, which was not true. He also justly defended his own integrity, saved the noble woman's good renown, which by licentious speeches might have been impaired, and liberally recompensed her injury with an honour, such as none could have been devised greater nor more glorious or permanent upon her and all the posterity of her house. It inureth also as a worthy lesson and discipline for all Princely personages, whose actions, imaginations, countenances and speeches, should evermore correspond in all truth and honourable simplicity.  
Charles the fift Emperor, even in his young years showing his valour and honourable ambition, gave for his new order, the golden Fleece, usurping it upon Prince jason & his Argonants rich spoil brought from Cholcos'. But for his device two pillars with this mot Plus ultra, as one not content to be restrained within the limits that Hercules had set for an uttermost bound to all his travails, viz. two pillars in the mouth of the strait Gibraltare, but would go further: which came fortunately to pass, and whereof the good success gave great commendation to his device: for by the valiancy of his Captains before he died he conquered great part of the west India's, never known to Hercules or any of our world before.  
In the same time (seeming that the heavens and stars had conspired to replenish the earth with Princes and governors of great courage, and most famous conquerous) Selim Emperor of Turkey gave for his device a croissant or new moon, promising to himself increase of glory and enlargement of empire, till he had brought all Asia under his subjection, which he reasonably well accomplished. For in less than eight years which he reigned, he conquered all Syria and Egypt, and laid it to his dominion. This device afterward was usurped by Henry the second French king, with this mot Donec totum compleat orbem, till he be at his full: meaning it not so largely as did Selim, but only that his friends should know how unable he was to do them good, and to show beneficence until he attained the crown of France unto which he aspired as next successor.  
King Lewis the twelfth, a valiant and magnanimous prince, who because he was on every side environed with mighty neighbours, and most of them his enemies, to let them perceive that they should not find him unable or unfurnished (in case they should offer any unlawful hostility) of suffificient forces of his own, aswell to offend as to defend, and to revenge an injury as to repulse it. He gave for his device the Porkespick with this posy pres & loign, both far and near. For the Purpentines nature is, to such as stand aloof, to dart her prickles from her, and if they come near her, with the same as they stick fast to wound them that hurt her.  
But of late years in the ransack of the Cities of Cartagena and S. Dominico in the West India's, manfully put in execution by the prowess of her majesties men, there was found a device made peradventure without King Philip's knowledge, wrought all in massive copper, a king sitting on horseback upon a monde or world, the horse prancing forward with his forelegges as if he would leap of, with this inscription, Non sufficit orbis, meaning, as it is to be conceived, that one whole world could not content him. This immeasurable ambition of the Spaniards, if her Majesty by God's providence, had not with her forces, providently stayed and retranched, no man knoweth what inconvenience might in time have ensued to all the Princes and common wealths in Christendom, who have found themselves long annoyed with his excessive greatness.  
Atila king of the Huns, invading France with an army of 300000. fight men, as it is reported, thinking utterly to abbase the glory of the Roman Empire, gave for his device of arms, a sword with a fiery point and these words, Ferro & flamma, with sword and fire. This very device being as ye see only accommodate to a king or conqueror and not a coillen or any mean soldier, a certain base man of England being known even at that time a bricklayer or mason by his science, gave for his crest: whom it had better become to bear a trowel full of mortar than a sword and fire, which is only the revenge of a Prince, and lieth not in any other man's ability to perform, unless ye will allow it to every poor knave that is able to set fire on a thacht house. The heralds ought to use great discretion in such matters: for neither any rule of their art doth warrant such absurdities, nor though such a coat or crest were gained by a prisoner taken in the field, or by a flag found in some ditch & never fought for (as many times happens) yet is it no more allowable than it were to bear the device of Tamerlan an Emperor in Tartary, who gave the lightning of heaven, with a posy in that language purporting these words, Ira Dei, which also appeared well to answer his fortune. For from a sturdy shepherd he became a most mighty Emperor, and with his innumerable great armies desolated so many countries and people, as he might justly be called [the wrath of God.] It appeared also by his strange end: for in the midst of his greatness and prosperity he died suddenly, & left no child or kindred for a successor to so large an Empire, nor any memory after him more than of his great puissance and cruelty.  
But that of the king of China in the farthest part of the Orient, though it be not so terrible is no less admirable, & of much sharpness and good implication, worthy for the greatest king and conqueror: and it is, two strange serpents entertangled in their amorous congress, the lesser creeping with his head into the greater's mouth, with words purporting [ama & time] love & fear. Which posy with marvelous much reason and subtility implieth the duty of every subject to his Prince, and of every Prince to his subject, and that without either of them both, no subject could be said entirely to perform his liegeance, nor the Prince his part of lawful government. For without fear and love the sovereign authority could not be upholden, nor without justice and mercy the Prince be renowned and honoured of his subject. All which parts are discovered in this figure: love by the serpent's amorous entertangling: obedience and fear by putting the inferiors head into the others mouth having puissance to destroy. On th'other side, justice in the greater to prepare and menace death and destruction to offenders. And if he spare it, then betokeneth it mercy, and a grateful recompense of the love and obedience which the sovereign receiveth.  
It is also worth the telling, how the king useth the same in policy, he giveth it in his ordinary liveries to be worn in every upper garment of all his noblest men and greatest Magistrates & the rest of his officers and servants, which are either embroidered upon the breast and the back with silver or gold or pearl or stone more or less richly, according to every man's dignity and calling, and they may not presume to be seen in public without them: nor also in any place where by the king's commission they use to sit in justice, or any other public affair, whereby the king is highly both honoured and served, the common people retained in duty and admiration of his greatness: the noblemen, magistrates and officers every one in his degree so much esteemed & reverenced, as in their good and loyal service they want unto their persons little less honour for the king's sake, then can be almost due or exhibited to the king himself.  
I could not forbear to add this foreign example to accomplish our discourse touching devices. For the beauty and gallantness of it, besides the subtility of the conceit, and princely policy in the use, more exact than can be remembered in any other of any European Prince, whose devices I will not say but many of them be lofty and ingenious, many of them lovely and beautiful, many other ambitious and arrogant, and the chiefest of them terrible and full of horror to the nature of man, but that any of them be comparable with it, for wit, virtue, gravity, and if ye list bravery, honour and magnificence, not usurping upon the peculiars of the gods. In my conceit there is none to be found.  
This may suffice for devices, a term which includes in his generality all those other, viz. liveries, cognisances, emblems, enseigns and impreses. For though the terms be divers, the use and intent is but one whether they rest in colour or figure or both, or in word or in mute show, and that is to insinuat some secret, witty, moral and brave purpose presented to the beholder, either to recreate his eye, or please his fantasy, or examine his judgement, or occupy his brain or to manage his will either by hope or by dread, every of which respects be of no little moment to the interest and ornament of the civil life: and therefore give them no little commendation. Then having produced so many worthy and wise founders of these devices, and so many puissant patrons and protectors of them, I fear no reproach in this discourse, which otherwise the venomous appetite of envy by detraction or scorn would peradventure not stick to offer me.   

Of the Anagram, or posy transposed.  
ONe other pretty conceit we will impart unto you and then trouble you with no more, and is also borrowed primitively of the Poet, or courtly maker, we may term him, the [posy transposed] or in one word [a transpose] a thing if it be done for pastime and exercise of the wit without superstition commendable enough and a meet study for Ladies, neither bringing them any great gain nor any great loss unless it be of idle time. They that use it for pleasure is to breed one word out of another not altering any letter nor the number of them, but only transposing of the same, whereupon many times is produced some grateful news or matter to them for whose pleasure and service it was intended: and because there is much difficulty in it, and altogether standeth upon hap hazard, it is counted for a courtly conceit no less than the device before remembered. Lycophron one of the seven Greek Lyrickes, who when they met together (as many times they did) for their excellency and lovely concord, were called the seven stars [pleiades] this man was very perfect & fortunate in these transposes, & for his delicate wit and other good parts was greatly favoured by Ptolemy king of Egypt and Queen Arsinoe his wife. He after such sort called the king 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is letter for letter Ptolomaeus and Queen Arsinoe he called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is Arsinoe, now the subtility lieth not in the conversion but in the sense in this that Apomelitos', signifieth in Greek [honey sweet] so was Ptolemy the sweetest natured man in the world both for countenance and conditions, and Iöneras, signifieth the violet or flower of juno a style among the Greeks for a woman endued with all beauty and magnificence, which construction falling out grateful and so truly, exceedingly well pleased the King and the Queen, and got Lycophron no little thank and benefit at both their hands.  
The French Gentlemen have very sharp wits and withal a delicate language, which may very easily be wrested to any alteration of words sententious, and they of late years have taken this pastime up among them many times gratifying their Ladies, and often times the Princes of the Realm, with some such thankful novelty. Whereof one made by François de valois, thus De façon suis Roy, who in deed was of fashion countenance and stature, besides his regal virtues a very king, for in a world there could not be seen a goodlier man of person. Another found this by Henry de valois [Roy de nulz hay] a king hated of no man, and was apparent in his conditions and nature, for there was not a Prince of greater affability and mansuetude than he.  
I myself seeing this conceit so well allowed of in France and Italy, and being informed that her Majesty took pleasure sometimes in desciphring of names, and hearing how divers Gentlemen of her Court had essayed but with no great felicity to make some delectable transpose of her majesties name, I would needs try my luck, for cunning I know not why I should call it, unless it be for the many and variable applications of sense, which requireth peradventure some wit & discretion more than of every unlearned man and for the purpose I took me these three words (if any other in the world) containing in my conceit greatest mystery, and most importing good to all them that now be alive, under her noble government.  
Elissabet Anglorum Regina.  
Which orthography (because ye shall not be abused) is true & not mistaken, for the letter zeta, of the Hebrews & Greeke and of all other tongues is in truth but a double ss. hardly uttered, and H. is but a note of aspiration only and no letter, which therefore is the by Greeks omitted. Upon the transposition I found this to redound.  
Multa regnabis ense gloria.  
By thy sword shalt thou reign in great renown.  
Then transposing the word [ense] it came to be  
Multa regnabis sene gloria.  
Aged and in much glory shall ye reign.  
Both which resultes falling out upon the very first marshalling of the letters, without any darkness or difficulty, and so sensibly and well appropriate to her majesties person and estate, and finally so effectually to mine own wish (which is a matter of much moment in such cases) I took them both for a good boding, and very fatallitie to her Majesty appointed by God's providence for all our comforts. Also I imputed it for no little good luck and glory to myself, to have pronounced to her so good and prosperous a fortune, and so thankful news to all England, which though it cannot be said by this event any destiny or fatal necessity, yet surely is it by all probability of reason, so likely to come to pass, as any other worldly event of things that be uncertain, her Majesty continuing the course of her most regal proceed and virtuous life in all earnest zeal and godly contemplation of his word, & in the sincere administration of his terrene justice, assigned over to her execution as his Lieutenant upon earth within the compass of her dominions.  
This also is worth the noting, and I will assure you of it, that af-the first search whereupon this transpose was fashioned. The same letters being by me tossed & tranlaced five hundredth times, I could never make any other, at least of some sense & conformity to her majesties estate and the case. If any other man by trial happen upon a better omination, or whatsoever else ye will call it, I will rejoice to be overmatched in my devise, and renounce him all the thanks and profit of my travail.  
When I wrote of these devices, I smiled with myself, thinking that the readers would do so to, and many of them say, that such trifles as these might well have been spared, considering the world is full enough of them, and that it is pity men's heads should be fed with such vanities as are to none edification nor instruction, either of moral virtue, or otherwise behooveful for the common wealth, to whose service (say they) we are all borne, and not to fill and replenish a whole world full of idle toys. To which sort of reprehendours, being either all holy and mortified to the world, and therefore esteeming nothing that savoureth not of theology, or altogether grave and worldly, and therefore caring for nothing but matters of policy, & discourses of estate, or all given to thrift and passing for none art that is not gainful and lucrative, as the sciences of the Law, Physic and merchandise: to these I will give none other answer than refer them to the many trifling poems of Homer, Ovid, Virgil, Catullus and other notable writers of former ages, which were not of any gravity or seriousness, and many of them full of impudicitie and ribaldry, as are not these of ours, nor for any good in the world should have been: and yet those trifles are come from many former siecles unto our times, uncontrolled or condemned or suppressed by any Pope or Patriarch or other severe censor of the civil manners of men, but have been in all ages permitted as the convenient solaces and recreations of man's wit. And as I can not deny but these conceits of mine be trifles: no less in very deed be all the most serious studies of man, if we shall measure gravity and lightness by the wise man's balance who after he had considered of all the profoundest arts and studies among men, in th'end cried out with this Epyphoneme, Vanitas vanitatum & omnia vanitas. Whose authority if it were not sufficient to make me believe so, I could be content with Democritus rather to condemn the vanities of our life by derision, then as Heraclitus with tears, saying with that merry Greek thus, 
Omnia sunt risus, sunt pulvis, & omnia nil sunt.  
Res hominum cunctae, nam ratione carent.  Thus Englished, 
All is but a test, all dust, all not worth two peason:  
For why in man's matters is neither rhyme nor reason.   
Now passing from these courtly trifles, let us talk of our scholastical toys, that is of the Grammatical versifying of the Greeks and Latins and see whether it might be reduced into our English art or no.    

CHAP. XII.  
How if all manner of sudden innovations were not very scandalous, specially in the laws of any language or arte, the use of the Greek and Latin feet might be brought into our vulgar Poesy, and with good grace enough.  
NOw nevertheless albeit we have before alleged that our vulgar Saxon English, standing most upon words monosillable, and little upon polysillables doth hardly admit the use of those fine invented feet of the Greeks & Latins, and that for the most part wise and grave men do naturally mislike with all sudden innovations specially of laws (and this the law of our ancient English Poesy) and therefore lately before we imputed it to a nice & scholastical curiosity in such makers as have sought to bring into our vulgar Poesy some of the ancient feet, to wit the Dactile into verses exameters, as he that translated certain books of Virgil's Eneydos in such measures & not uncommendably: if I should now say otherwise it would make me seem contradictory to myself, yet for the information of our young makers, and pleasure of all others who be delighted in novelty, and to th'intent we may not seem by ignorance or oversight to omit any point of subtility, material or necessary to our vulgar art, we will in this present chapter & by our own idle observations show how one may easily and commodiously lead all those feet of the ancients into our vulgar language. And if men's ears were not perchance to dainty, or their judgements over partial, would peradventure nothing at all misbecome our art, but make in our meetres a more pleasant numerosity then now is. Thus far therefore we will adventure and not beyond, to th'intent to show some singularity in our art that every man hath not heretofore observed, and (her majesty good liking always had) whether we make the common readers to laugh or to lower, all is a matter, since our intent is not so exactly to prosecute the purpose, nor so earnestly, as to think it should by authority of our own judgement be generally applauded at to the discredit of our forefather's manner of vulgar Poesy, or to the alteration or peradventure total destruction of the same, which could not stand with any good discretion or courtesy in us to attempt, but thus much I say, that by some leasurable travel it were no hard matter to induce all their ancient feet into use with us, and that it should prove very agreeable to the ear and well according with our ordinary times and pronunciation, which no man could then justly mislike, and that is to allow every word polisillable one long time of necessity, which should be where his sharp accent falls in our own ydiome most aptly and naturally, wherein we would not follow the licence of the Greeks and Latins, who made not their sharp accent any necessary prolongation of their times, but used such syllable sometimes long sometimes short at their pleasure. The other syllables of any word where the sharp accent fell not, to be accounted of such time and quantity as his orthography would best bear having regard to himself, or to his next neighbour, word, bounding him on either side, namely to the smoothness & hardness of the syllable in his utterance, which is occasioned altogether by his orthography & situation as in this word [dáyly] the first syllable for his usual and sharp accents sake to be always long, the second for his flat accents sake to be always short, and the rather for his orthography, because if he go before another word commencing with a vowel not letting him to be eclipsed, his utterance is easy & 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, because they receive both of them the sharp accent, and the two middlemost to be short, in these words [remedy] & [remediless] the time to follow also the accent, so as if it please better to set the sharp accent upon [re] then upon [die] that syllable should be made long and èconuerso, but in this word [remediless] because many like better to accent the syllable [me] them the syllable [les] therefore I leave him for a common syllable to be able to receive both a long and a short time as occasion shall serve. The like law I set in these words [revocable] [recoverable] [irrevocable] [irrecoverable] for sometime it sounds better to say reuŏ cāblĕ than rĕ uōcăblĕ, rēcŏuĕr āblĕ them rĕcōuĕr ăblĕ for this one thing ye must always mark that if your time fall either by reason of his sharp accent or otherwise upon the penultima, ye shall find many other words to rhyme with him, because such terminations are not geazon, but if the long time fall upon the antepenultima ye shall not find many words to match him in his termination, which is the cause of his concord or rhyme, but if you would let your long time by his sharp accent fall above the antepenultima as to say [cōuĕrăblĕ] ye shall seldom or perchance never find one to make up rhyme with him unless it be badly and by abuse, and therefore in all such long polisillables ye do commonly give two sharp accents, and thereby reduce him into two feet as in this word [rēmŭ nĕrātĭŏn] which makes a couple of good Dactyls, and in this word [contribūtĭŏn] which makes a good spondeus & a good dactill, and in this word [recāpĭtŭlātĭŏn] it makes two dactills and a syllable overplus to annex to the word precedent to help piece up another foot. But for words monosillables (as be most of ours) because in pronouncing them they do of necessity retain a sharp accent, ye may justly allow them to be all long if they will so best serve your turn, 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 serves your purpose and pleaseth your ear most, and truliest answers the nature of the orthography in which I would as near as I could observe and keep the laws of the Greek and Latin versifiers, that is to prolong the syllable which is written with double consonants or by diphthong or with single consonants that run hard and harshly upon the tongue: and to shorten all syllables that stand upon vowels, if there were no cause of elision and single consonants & such of them as are most flowing and flipper upon the tongue 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 Latin poets used to do, specially Lucretius and Ennius as to say [finibu] for [finibus] and so would not I stick to say thus [delight] for [delight] [high] for [high] and such like, & doth nothing at all impugn the rule I gave before against the wresting of words by false orthography to make up rhyme, which may not be falsified. But this omission of letters in the midst of a metre to make him the more slipper, helps the numerosity and hinders not the rhyme. But generally the shortening or prolonging of the monosillables depends much upon the nature of their orthography which the Latin Grammariens call the rule of position, as for example if I shall say thus. 
Nōt mănĭe dayēs' pāst.  Twenty days after, This makes a good Dactill and a good spondeus, but if ye turn them backward it would not do so, as. 
Many days, not past.  And the distich made all of monosillables. 
Būt nōne ōf ūs trūe mēns ānd frēe,  
Can find so great good luck as he.  Which words serve well to make the verse all spondiacke or iambicke, but not in dactil, as other words or the same otherwise placed would do, for it were an ill-favoured dactil to say.  
Būt nŏne ŏf, ūs ăll trĕwe.  
Therefore whensoever your words will not make a smooth dactil, ye must alter them or their situations, or else turn them to other feet that may better bear their manner of sound and orthography: or if the word be polysillable to divide him, and to make him serve by pieces, that he could not do whole and entirely. And no doubt by like consideration did the Greek & Latin versifiers fashion all their feet at the first to be of sundry times, and the self same syllable to be sometime long and sometime short for the ears better satisfaction as hath been before remembered. Now also whereas I said before that our old Saxon English for his many monosillables did not naturally admit the use of the ancient feet in our vulgar measures so aptly as in those languages which stood most upon polisillables, I said it in a sort truly, but now I must recant and confess that our Normane English which hath grown since William the Conqueror doth admit any of the ancient feet, by reason of the many polysillables even to six and seven in one word, which we at this day use in our most ordinary language: and which corruption hath been occasioned chief by the peevish affectation not of the Normans themselves, but of clerks and scholars or secretaries long since, who not content with the usual Normane or Saxon word, would convert the very Latin and Greek word into vulgar French, as to say innumerable for innombrable, revocable, irrevocable, irradiation, depopulation & such like, which are not natural Normans nor yet French, but altered Latins, and without any imitation at all: which therefore were long time despised for inkhorn terms and now be reputed the best & most delicate of any other. Of which & many other causes of corruption of our speech we have in another place more amply discoursed, but by this mean we may at this day very well receive the ancient feet metrical of the Greeks and Latins saving those that be superfluous as be all the feet above the trissillable, which the old Grammarians idly invented and distinguished by special names, whereas in deed the same do stand compounded with the inferior feet, and therefore some of them were called by the names of didactilus, dispondeus and disiambus: all which feet as I say we may be allowed to use with good discretion & precise choice of words and with the favourable approbation of readers, and so shall our plat in this one point be larger and much surmount that which Stamhurst first took in hand by his exameters dactilicke and spondaicke in the translation of Virgil's Eneidos, and such as for a great number of them my stomach can hardly digest for the ill shapen sound of many of his words polisillable and also his copulation of monosillables supplying the quantity of a trissillable to his intent. And right so in promoting this devise of ours being (I fear me) much more nice and affected, and therefore more misliked than his, we are to bespeak favour, first of the delicate ears, then of the rigorous and severe dispositions, lastly to crave pardon of the learned & ancient makers in our vulgar, for if we should seek in every point to equal our speech with the Greek and Latin in their metrical observations it could not possible be by us performed, because their syllables came to be timed some of them long, some of them short not by reason of any evident or apparent cause in writing or sound remaining upon one more than another, for many times they shortened the syllable of sharp accent and made long that of the flat, & therefore we must needs say, it was in many of their words done by preelection in the first poets, not having regard altogether to the orthography, and hardness or softness of a syllable, consonant, vowel or diphthong, 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 antiquity, where he made [pē] in both places long and [nĕ] and [lŏ] short, he might have made them otherwise and with as good reason, nothing in the world appearing that might move them to make such (preelection) more in th'one syllable then in the other for pe. ne. and lo. being syllables vocals be equally smooth and currant upon the tongue, and might bear aswell the long as the short time, but it pleased the Poet otherwise: so he that first shortened, ca in this word cano, and made long trow, in troia, and o, in oris, might have aswell done the contrary, but because he that first put them into a verse, found as it is to be supposed a more sweetness in his own ear to have them so tymed, therefore all other Poets who followed, were fain to do the like, which made that Virgil who came many years after the first reception of words in their several times, was driven of necessity to accept them in such quantities as they were left him and therefore said.  
ārmă uĭ rūmqūe că nō trō iē quì  
prīmŭs ăb ōrīs.  
Neither truly do I see any other reason in that law (though in other rules of shortening and prolonging a syllable there may be reason) but that it stands upon bare tradition. Such as the Cabalists avouch in their mystical constructions Theological and others, saying that they received the same from hand to hand from the first parent Adam, Abraham and others, which I will give them leave alone both to say and believe for me, thinking rather that they have been the idle occupations, or perchance the malicious and crafty constructions of the Talmudists, and others of the Hebrew clerks to bring the world into admiration of their laws and Religion. Now peradventure with us Englishmen it be somewhat too late to admit a new invention of feet and times that our forefathers never used nor never observed till this day, either in their measures or in their pronunciation, and perchance will seem in us a presumptuous part to attempt, considering also it would be hard to find many men to like of one man's choice in the limitation of times and quantities of words, with which not one, but every ear is to be pleased and made a particular judge, being most truly said, that a multitude or commonalty is hard to please and easy to offend, and therefore I intent not to proceed any further in this curiosity then to show some small subtility that any other hath not yet done, and not by imitation but by observation, nor to th'intent to have it put in execution in our vulgar Poesy, but to be pleasantly scanned upon, as are all novelties so frivolous and ridiculous as it.   

CHAP. XIII.  
A more particular declaration of the metrical feet of the ancient Poets Greeke and Latin and chief of the feet of two times.  
THeir Grammarians made a great multitude of feet, I wots not to what huge number, and of so many sizes as their words were of length, namely six sizes, whereas in deed, the metrical feet are but twelve in number, whereof four only be of two times, and eight of three times, the rest compounds of the premised two sorts, even as the Arithmetical numbers above three are made of two and three. And if ye will know how many of these feet will be commodiously received with us, I say all the whole twelve, for first for the foot spondeus of two long times ye have these English words mōrnīng, mīdnīght, mīschāunce, and a number more whose orthography may direct your judgement in this point: for your Trocheus of a long and short ye have these words mānĕr, brōkĕn, tākĕn, bōdiĕ, mēmbĕr, and a great many more if their last syllables about not upon the consonant in the beginning of another word, and in these whether they do about or no wīttĭe, dīttĭe, sōrrŏw, mōrrŏw, & such like, which end in a vowel for your jambus of a short and a long, ye have these words [rĕstōre] [rĕmōrse] [dĕsīre] [ĕndūre] and a thousand besides. For your foot pirrichius or of two short syllables ye have these words [mănĭe] [mŏnĕy] [pĕnĭe] [sĭliĕ] and others of that constitution or the like: for your feet of three times and first your dactill, ye have these words & a number more pātĭĕnce, tēmpĕrănce, wōmănheăd, iōlĭtĭe, daungĕrŏus, dūetĭfŭll & others. For your molossus, of all three long, ye have a member of words also and specially most of your participles active, as pērsīstīng, dĕspōilīng, ēndēntīng, and such like in orthography: for your anapestus of two short and a long ye have these words but not many more, as mănĭfōld, mŏnĭlēsse, rĕmănēnt, hŏlĭnēsse. For your foot tribracchus of all three short, ye have very few trissillables, because the sharp accent will always make one of them long by pronunciation, which else would be by orthography short as, [mĕrĭly] [minion] & such like. For your foot bacchius of a short & two long ye have these and the like words trissillables [lămēntīng] [rĕquēstīng] [rĕnoūncīng] [rĕpēntānce] [ĕnūrīng]. For your foot antibacchius, of two long and a short ye have these words [fōrsākĕn] [īmpūgnĕd] and others many: For your amphimacer that is a long a short and a long ye have these words and many more [éxcellént] [īmĭnēnt] and specially such as be proper names of persons or towns or other things and namely Welsh words: for your foot amphibracchus, of a short, a long and a short, ye have these words and many like to these [rĕsīstĕd] [dĕlīghtfŭll] [rĕprīsăll] [ĭnăuntĕr] [ĕnāmĭll] so as for want of English words if your ear be not to dainty and your rules to precise, ye need not be without the metrical feet of the ancient Poets such as be most pertinent and not superfluous. This is (ye will perchance say) my singular opinion: than ye shall see how well I can maintain it. First the quantity of a word comes either by (preelection) without reason or force as hath been alleged, and as the ancient Greeks and Latins did in many words, but not in all, or by (election) with reason as they did in some, and not a few. And a sound is drawn at length either by the infirmity of the tongue, because the word or syllable is of such letters as hangs long in the palate or lips ere he will come forth, or because he is accented and tuned hire and sharper than another, whereby he somewhat obscureth the other syllables in the same word that be not accented so high, in both these cases we will establish our syllable long, contrariwise the shortening of a syllable is, when his sound or accent happens to be heavy 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 pass from the mouth. And the vowel is always more easily delivered then the consonant: and of consonants, the liquid more than the mute, & a single consonant more than a double, and one more than twain coupled together: all which points were observed by the Greeks and Latins, and allowed for maxims in versifying. Now if ye will examine these four bissillables [rēmnānt] [rĕmāine] [rēnder] [rĕnĕt] for an example by which ye may make a general rule, and ye shall find, that they answer our first resolution. First in [remnant] [rem] bearing the sharp accent and having his consonant abbut upon another, sounds long. The syllable [nant] being written with two consonants must needs be accounted the same beside that [nant] by his Latin original is long, viz. [remanēns.] Take this word [remain] because the last syllable bears the sharp accent, he is long in the ear, and [re] being the first syllable, passing obscurely away with a flat accent is short, besides that [re] by his Latin original and also by his orthography is short. This word [render] bearing the sharp accent upon [ren] makes it long, the syllable [der] falling away swiftly & being also written with a single consonant or liquid is short and makes the trocheus. This word [rĕnēt] having both syllables sliding and slipper make the foot Pirrichius, because if he be truly uttered he bears in manner no sharper accent upon the one than the other syllable, but be in effect equal 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 syllables, or to be used for common, according as their situation and place with other words shall be: and as I have named to you but only four words for an example, so may ye find out by diligent observation four hundred if ye will. But of all your words bissillables the most part naturally do make the foot jambus, many the Trocheus, fewer the Spondeus, fewest of all the Pirrichius, because in him the sharp accent (if ye follow the rules of your accent, as we have presupposed) doth make a little odds: and ye shall find verses made all of monosillables, and do very well, but lightly they be jambickes, because for the more part the accent falls sharp upon every second word rather than contrariwise, as this of Sir Thomas Wiat's.  
I fīnde nŏ peāce ănd yēt mĭe wārre ĭs dōne,  
I fear and hope, and burn and freeze like ise.  
And some verses where the sharp accent falls upon the first and third, and so make the verse wholly Trochaicke, as thus, 
Work not, no nor, wish thy friend or foes harm  
Try but, trust not, all that speak thee so fair.   
And some verses made of monosillables and bissillables interlaced as this of th'earls, 
When raging love with extreme pain  And this 
A fairer beast of fresher hue beheld I never none.   
And some verses made all of bissillables and others all of trissillables, and others of polisillables equally increasing and of divers quantities, and sundry situations, as in this of our own, made to daunt the insolence of a beautiful woman.  
Brittle beauty blossom daily fading  
Morn, noon, and eve in age and eke in eld  
Dangerous disdainful pleasantly persuading  
Easy to gripe but cumbrous to wield  
For slender bottom hard and heavy lading  
Gay for a while, but little while durable  
Suspicious, incertain, irrevocable,  
O since thou art by trial not to trust  
Wisdom it is, and it is also just  
To sound the stem before the tree be field  
That is, since death will drive us all to dust  
To leave thy love ere that we be compelled.  
In which ye have your first verse all of bissillables and of the foot trocheus. The second all of monosillables, and all of the foot jambus, the third all of trissillables, and all of the foot dactilus, your fourth of one bissillable, and two monosillables interlarded, the fift of one monosillable and two bissillables interlaced, and the rest of other sorts and situations, some by degrees increasing, some diminishing: which example I have set down to let you perceive what pleasant numerosity in the measure and disposition of your words in a metre may be contrived by curious wits & these with other like were the observations of the Greek and Latin versifiers.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
Of your feet of three times, and first of the Dactil.  
YOur feet of three times by prescription of the Latin Grammariens are of eight sundry proportions, for some notable difference appearing in every syllable of three falling in a word of that size: but because above the antepenultima there was (among the Latins) none accent audible in any long word, therefore to devise any foot of longer measure than of three times was to them but superfluous: because all above the number of three are but compounded of their inferiors. Omitting therefore to speak of these larger feet, we say that of all your feet of three times the Dactill is most usual and fit for our vulgar meeter, & most agreeable to the ear, specially if ye overlade not your verse with too many of them but here and there interlace a jambus or some other foot of two times to give him gravity and stay, as in this quadrein Trimeter or of three measures.  
Rendĕr ăgaīne mĭe lībĕrtĭe  
ănd sēt yoŭr cāptĭue frēe  
Glōrĭoŭs īs thĕ uīctŏrĭe  
Cōnquĕrŏurs ūse wĭth lēnĭtĭe  
Where ye see every verse is all of a measure, and yet unegal in number of syllables: for the second verse is but of six syllables, where the rest are of eight. But the reason is for that in three of the same verses are two Dactyls a piece, which abridge two syllables in every verse: and so maketh the longest even with the shortest. Ye may note beside by the first verse, how much better some bissillable becometh to piece out an other longer foot than another word doth: for in place of [render] if ye had said [restore] it had marred the Dactil, and of necessity driven him out at length to be a verse jambie of four feet, because [render] is naturally a Trocheus & makes the first two times of a dactil. [Restore] is naturally a jambus, & in this place could not possibly have made a pleasant dactil.  
Now again if ye will say to me that these two words [liberty] and [conquerors] be not precise Dactyls by the Latin rule. So much will I confess to, but since they go currant enough upon the tongue and be so usually pronounced, they may pass well enough for Dactyls in our vulgar metres, & that is enough for me, seeking but to fashion an art, & not to finish it: which time only & custom have authority to do, specially in all cases of language as the Poet hath wittily remembered in this verse 
- si volet usus,  
Quem penes arbitrium est & vis & norma loquendi.   
The Earl of Surrey upon the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt made among other this verse Pentameter and of ten syllables, 
What holy grave (alas) what sepulchre   
But if I had had the making of him, he should have been of eleven syllables and kept his measure of five still, and would so have run more pleasantly a great deal: for as he is now, though he be even he seems odd and defective, for not well observing the natural accent of every word, and this would have been soon helped by inserting one monosillable in the middle of the verse, and drawing another syllable in the beginning into a Dactil, this word [holy] being a good [Pirrichius] & very well serving the turn, thus, 
Whāt hŏlĭe grāue ă lās whăt fīt sĕpūlchĕr.  Which verse if ye peruse throughout ye shall find him after the first dactil all Trochaick & not jambic, nor of any other foot of two times. But perchance if ye would seem yet more curious, in place of these four Trocheus ye might induce other feet of three times, as to make the three syllables next following the dactil, the foot [amphimacer] the last word [Sepulchre] the foot [amphibracus] leaving the other middle word for a [jambus] thus. 
Whāt hŏlĭe grāue ă lās whăt fīt sĕpūlchĕr.  If ye ask me further why I make [what] first long & after short in one verse, to that I satisfied you before, that it is by reason of his accent sharp in one place and flat in another, being a common monosillable, that is, apt to receive either accent, & so in the first place receiving aptly the sharp accent he is made long: afterward receiving the flat accent more aptly than the sharp, because the syllable precedent [las] utterly distaines him, he is made short & not long, & that with very good melody, but to have given him the sharp accent & plucked it from the syllable [las] it had been to any man's ear a great discord: for evermore this word [alás] is accented upon the last, & that loudly & notoriously as appeareth by all our exclamations used under that term. The same Earl of Surrey & Sir Thomas Wyatt the first reformers & polishers of our vulgar Poesy much affecting the style and measures of the Italian Petrarcha, used the foot dactil very often but not many in one verse, as in these, 
Fūll mănĭe that in presence of thy līuelĭe hĕd,  
Shed Caesar's tears upon Pōmpĕūis hĕd.  
Th'ēnĕmĭe to life destroyer of all kind,  
If āmŏ rŏus faith in an heart unfeigned,  
Mine old deēre ĕnĕ my my froward master.  
Thē fŭrĭous gone in his most raging ire.   
And many more which if ye would not allow for dactyls the verse would halt unless ye would seem to help it contracting a syllable by virtue of the figure Syneresis which I think was never their meaning, nor in deed would have bred any pleasure to the ear, but hindered the flowing of the verse. Howsoever ye take it the dactil is commendable enough in our vulgar meetres, but most plausible of all when he is sounded upon the stage, as in these comical verses showing how well it becometh all noble men and great personages to be temperate and modest, yea more than any meaner man, thus.  
Lēt nŏ nŏbīlĭtĭe rīchĕs ŏr hērĭtăge  
Hōnŏur ŏr ēmpĭre ŏr eārthlĭe dŏmīnĭŏn  
Brēed ĭn yŏur heād ănie pēevish ŏpīnĭŏn  
That ye măy sāfĕr ăuōuch ănĭe ōutrāge.  
And in this distiquetaxing the Prelate symoniake standing all upon perfect dactyls.  
Nōw mānīe bīe mōnēy pūruĕy prŏmōtĭŏn  
For money moves any heart to devotion.  
But this advertisement I will give you withal, that if ye use too many dactyls together ye make your music too light and of no solemn gravity such as the amorous Elegies in court naturally require, being always either very doleful or passionate as the affections of love enforce, in which business ye must make your choice of very few words dactilique, or them that ye can not refuse, to dissolve and break them into other feet by such means as it shall be taught hereafter: but chief in your courtly ditties take heed ye use not these manner of long polisillables and specially that ye finish not your verse with them as [retribution] restitution] remuneration [recapitulation] and such like: for they smatch more the school of common players than of any delicate Poet Lyric or Elegiac.   

CHAP. XV.  
Of all your other feet of three times and how well they would fashion a metre in our vulgar.  
ALl your other feet of three times I find no use of them in our vulgar metres nor no sweetness at all, and yet words enough to serve their proportions. So as though they have not hitherto been made artificial, yet now by more curious observation they might be. Since all arts grew first by observation of nature's proceed and custom. And first your [Molossus] being of all three long is evidently discovered by this word [pērmīttīng] The [Anapestus] of two short and a long by this word [fŭrĭōus] if the next word begin with a consonant. The foot [Bacchius] of a short and two long by this word [rĕsīstānce] the foot [Antibachius] of two long and a short by this word [ēxāmplĕ] the foot] Amphimacer] of a long a short & a long by this word [cōnquĕrīng] the foot of [Amphibrachus] of a short a long and a short by this word [rĕmēmber] if a vowel follow. The foot [Tribrachus] of three short times is very hard to be made by any of our trissillables unless they be compounded of the smoothest sort of consonants or syllables vocals, or of threesmooth monosillables, or of some piece of a long polysillable & after that sort we may with wresting of words shape the foot [Tribrachus] rather by usurpation than by rule, which nevertheless is allowed in every primitive art & invention: & so it was by the Greeks and Latins in their first versifying, as if a rule should be set down that from henceforth these words should be counted all Tribrachus. [ĕnĕmĭe] rĕmĕdĭe] sĕlĭnĕs] mŏnĭlĕs] pĕnĭlĕs] crŭĕllĭe] & such like, or a piece of this long word [rĕcōuĕrăblĕ] innŭmĕrăblē reădĭlĭe] and others. Of all which manner of apt words to make these stranger feet of three times which go not so currant with our ear as the dactil, the maker should have a good judgement to know them by their manner of orthography and by their accent which serve most fitly for every foot, or else he should have always a little calendar of them apart to use readily when he shall need them. But because in very truth I think them but vain & superstitious observations nothing at all furthering the pleasant melody of our English meeter, I leave to speak any more of them and rather wish the continuance of our old manner of Poesy, scanning our verse by syllables rather than by feet, and using most commonly the word jambique & sometime the Trochaike which ye shall discern by their accents, and now and then a dactill keeping precisely our symphony or rhyme without any other mincing measures, which an idle inventive head could easily devise, as the former examples teach.   

CHAP. XVI.  
Of your verses perfect and defective, and that which the Grecians called the half foot.  
THe Greeks and Latins used verses in the odd syllable of two sorts, which they called Catalecticke and Acatalecticke, that is odd under and odd over the just measure of their verse, & we in our vulgar find many of the like, and specially in the rhymes of Sir Thomas Wyatt, strained perchance out of their original, made first by Francis Petrarcha: as these 
Like unto these, immeasurable mountains,  
So is my painful life the burden of ire:  
For high be they, and high is my desire  
And I of tears, and they are full of fountains.  Where in your first second and fourth verse, ye may find a syllable superfluous, and though in the first ye will seem to help it, by drawing these three syllables, [īm mĕ sŭ] into a dactil, in the rest it can not be so excused, wherefore we must think he did it of purpose, by the odd syllable to give greater grace to his metre, and we find in our old rhymes, this odd syllable, sometime placed in the beginning and sometimes in the middle of a verse, and is allowed to go alone & to hung to any other syllable. But this odd syllable in our meetres is not the half foot as the Greeks and Latins used him in their verses, and called such measure pentimimeris and eptamimeris, but rather is that, which they called the catalectik or maimed verse. Their hemimeris or half foot served not by licence Poetical or necessity of words, but to beautify and exornate the verse by placing one such half foot in the middle Cesure, & one other in the end of the verse, as they used all their pentameters elegiac: and not by coupling them together, but by account to make their verse of a just measure and not defective or superfluous: our odd syllable is not altogether of that nature, but is in a manner drowned and suppressed by the flat accent, and shrinks away as it were inaudible and by that mean the odd verse comes almost to be an even in every man's hearing. The half foot of the ancients was reserved purposely to an use, and therefore they gave such odd syllable, wheresoever he fell the sharper accent, and made by him a notorious pause as in this pentameter.  
Nīl mĭ hĭ rēscrībàs āttămĕn īpsĕ uĕ nì.  
Which in all make five whole feet, or the verse Pentameter. We in our vulgar have not the use of the like half foot.   

CHAP. XIII.  
Of the breaking your bissillables and polysillables and when it is to be used.  
But whether ye suffer your syllable to receive his quantity by his accent, or by his orthography, or whether ye keep your bissillable whole or whether ye break him, all is one to his quantity, and his time will appear the self same still and ought not to be altered by our makers, unless it be when such syllable is allowed to be common and to receive any of both times, as in the dimeter, made of two syllables entire.  
ēxtrēame dĕsīre  
The first is a good spondeus, the second a good iambus, and if the same words be broken thus it is not so pleasant.  
ĭn ēx trēame dĕ sire  
And yet the first makes a iambus, and the second a trocheus each syllable retaining still his former quantities. And always ye must have regard to the sweetness of the metre, so as if your word polysillable would not sound pleasantly whole, ye should for the nonce break him, which ye may easily do by inserting here and there one monosillable among your polysillables, or by changing your word into another place then where he sounds unpleasantly, and by breaking, turn a trocheus to a iambus, or contrariwise: as thus: 
Hōllŏw uāllĕis ūndĕr hīĕst moūntaĭnes  
Crāggĭe cliffs brĭng foōrth thĕ faīrĕst foūntaĭnes   
These verses be trochaik, and in mine ear not so sweet and harmonical as the iambicque, thus: 
Thĕ hōllŏwst uāls lĭe ūndĕr hīest mōuntāines  
Thĕ crāggĭst clīfs brīng fōrth thĕ faīrĕst foūntāines.   
All which verses be now become iambicque by breaking the first bissillables, and yet altars not their quantities though the feet be altered: and thus, 
Restless is the heart in his desires  
Raving after that reason doth deny.   
Which being turned thus makes a new harmony.  
The restless heart, renews his old desires  
Ayraving after that reason doth it deny.  
And following this observation your meetres being builded with polysillables will fall diversly out, that is some to be spondaick, some iambic, others dactilick, others trochaick, and of one mingled with another, as in this verse.  
Hēauĭe īs thĕ būrdĕn of Prĭncĕs īre  
The verse is trochaick, but being altered thus, is iambicque.  
Fŭll hēauĭe īs thĕ pāise ŏf Prīncĕs īre  
And as Sir Thomas Wyatt song in a verse wholly trochaick, because the words do best shape to that foot by their natural accent, thus, 
Fārewĕll lōue ănd āll thĭe lāwes fŏr ēuĕr   
And in this ditty of th'earl of Surries, passing sweet and harmonical: all be iambic.  
When raging love with extreme pain  
So cruelly doth strain my heart,  
And that the tears like floods of rain  
Bear witness of my woeful smart.  
Which being disposed otherwise or not broken, would prove all trochaick, but nothing pleasant.  
Now furthermore ye are to note, that all your monosyllables may receive the sharp accent, but not so aptly one as another, as in this verse where they serve well to make him iambicque, but not trochaick.  
Gŏd graūnt thĭs peāce măy lōng ĕndūre  
Where the sharp accent falls more tunably upon [grant] [peace] [long] [dure] than it would by conversion, as to accent them thus: 
Gōd graŭnt— thīs peăce— māy lŏng— ēndūre,   
And yet if ye will ask me the reason, I can not tell it, but that it shapes so to mine ear, and as I think to every other man's. And in this meeter where ye have whole words bissillable unbroken, that maintain (by reason of their accent) sundry feet, yet going one with another be very harmonical.  
Where ye see one to be a trocheus another the iambus, and so intermingled not by election but by constraint of their several accents, which ought not to be altered, yet comes it to pass that many times ye must of necessity alter the accent of a syllable, and put him from his natural place, and then one syllable, of a word polysillable, or one word monosillable, will abide to be made sometimes long, sometimes short, as in this quadreyne of ours played in a merry mood.  
Gèue mé mìne ówne ànd whéns I dó dèsíre  
give others theirs, and nothing that is mine  
Nòr gíue mè thát, whereto all men aspire  
Then neither gold, nor fair women nor wine.  
Where in your first verse these two words [give] 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 plays with these two clauses of sundry relations [give me] and [give others] so as the monosillable [me] being respective to the word [others] and inferring a subtility or witty implication, ought not to have the same accent, as when he hath no such respect, as in this distik of ours.  
Prōue mĕ (Madam) ere ye rēprŏue  
Meek minds should ēxcŭse not āccŭse.  
In which verse ye see this word [reprove,] the syllable [prove] altar's his sharp accent into a flat, for naturally it is long in all his singles and compounds [reproòue] [approòue] [disproòue] & so is the syllable [cuse] in [excuse] [accuse] [recuse] yet in these verses by reason one of them doth as it were nick another, and have a certain extraordinary sense with all, it behoveth to remove the sharp accents from whence they are most natural, to place them where the nick may be more expressly discovered, and therefore in this verse where no such implication is, nor no relation it is otherwise, as thus.  
If ye rēprōue my constancy  
I will excūse you courteously.  
For in this word [reproóue] because there is no extraordinary sense to be inferred, he keepeth his sharp accent upon the syllable [proóue] but in the former verses because they seem to encounter each other, they do thereby merit an audible and pleasant alteration of their accents in those syllables that cause the subtlety. Of these manner of nicetees ye shall find in many places of our book, but specially where we treat of ornament, unto which we refer you, saving that we thought good to set down one example more to solace your minds with mirth after all these scholastical precepts, which can not but bring with them (specially to Courtiers) much tediousness, and so to end. In our Comedy entitled Ginecocratia: the king was supposed to be a person very amorous and effeminate, and therefore most ruled his ordinary affairs by the advise of women either for the love he bore to their persons or liking he had to their pleasant ready wits and utterance. Comes me to the Court one Polemon an honest plain man of the country, but rich: and having a suit to the king, met by chance with one Philino, a lover of wine and a merry companion in Court, and prayed him in that he was a stranger that he would vouchsafe to tell him which way he were best to work to get his suit, and who were most in credit and favour about the king, that he might seek to them to further his attempt. Philino perceiving the plainness of the man, and that there would be some good done with him, told Polemon that if he would well consider him for his labour he would bring him where he should know the truth of all his demands by the sentence of the Oracle. Polemon gave him twenty crowns, Philino brings him into a place where behind an arras cloth he himself spoke in manner of an Oracle in these metres, for so did all the Sibyls and soothsayers in old times give their answers.  
Your best way to work— and mark my words well,  
Not money: nor many,  
Nor any: but any,  
Not weemen, but weemen bear the bell.  
Polemon witted not what to make of this doubtful speech, & not being lawful to importune the oracle more than once in one matter, conceived in his head the pleasanter construction, and stack to it: and having at home a fair young damsel of eighteen years old to his daughter, that could very well behave herself in countenance & also in her language, appareled her as gay as he could, and brought her to the Court, where Philino hearkening daily after the event of this matter, met him, and recommended his daughter to the Lords, who perceiving her great beauty and other good parts, brought her to the King, to whom she exhibited her father's supplication, and found so great favour in his eye, as without any long delay she obtained her suit at his hands. Polemon by the diligent soliciting of his daughter, wan his purpose: Philino got a good reward and used the matter so, as howsoever the oracle had been construed, he could not have received blame nor discredit by the success, for every ways it would have proved true, whether Polemons daughter had obtained the suit, or not obtained it. And the subtlety lay in the accent and Orthography of these two words [any] and [weemen] for [any] being divided sounds [any or near person to the king: and [weemen] being divided sounds we men, and not [weemen] and so by this mean Philino served all turns and shifted himself from blame, not unlike the tale of the Rattlemouse who in the wars proclaimed between the four footed beasts, and the birds, being sent for by the Lion to be at his musters, excused himself for that he was a foul and flew with wings: and being sent for by the Eagle to serve him, said that he was a four footed beast, and by that crafty cavil escaped the danger of the wars, and shunned the service of both Princes. And ever since sat at home by the fires side, eating up the poor husbandman's baken, half lost for lack of a good housewives looking too.   
FINIS.   

THE THIRD BOOK, OF ORNAMENT.  

CHAP. I.  
Of Ornament Poetical.  
AS no doubt the good proportion of any thing doth greatly adorn and commend it and right so our late remembered proportions do to our vulgar Poesy: so is there yet requisite to the perfection of this art, another manner of exornation, which resteth in the fashioning of our maker's language and style, to such purpose as it may delight and allure as well the mind as the ear of the hearers with a certain novelty and strange manner of conveyance, disguising it no little from the ordinary and accustomed: nevertheless making it nothing the more unseemly or misbecoming, but rather decenter and more agreeable to any civil ear and understanding. And as we see in these great Madams of honour, be they for parsonage or otherwise never so comely and beautiful, yet if they want their courtly habiliments or at leastwise such other apparel as custom and civility have ordained to cover their naked bodies, would be half ashamed or greatly out of countenance to be seen in that sort, and perchance do then think themselves more amiable in every man's eye, when they be in their richest attire, suppose of silks or tyssewes & costly embroideries, then when they go in cloth or in any other plain and simple apparel. Even so cannot our vulgar Poesy show itself either gallant or gorgeous, if any limb be left naked and bare and not clad in his kindly clothes and colours, such as may convey them somewhat out of sight, that is from the common course of ordinary speech and capacity of the vulgar judgement, and yet being artificially handled must needs yield it much more beauty and commendation. This ornament we speak of is given to it by figures and figurative speeches, which be the flowers as it were and colours that a Poet setteth upon his language by art, as the embroderer doth his stone and pearl, or passements of gold upon the stuff of a Princely garment, or as th'excellent painter bestoweth the rich Orient colours upon his table of pourtraite: so nevertheless as if the same colours in our art of Poesy (as well as in those other mechanical arts) be not well tempered, or not well laid, or be used in excess, or never so little disordered or misplaced, they not only give it no manner of grace at all, but rather do disfigure the stuff and spill the whole workmanship taking away all beauty and good liking from it, no less then if the crimson taint, which should be laid upon a Lady's lips, or right in the centre of her cheeks should by some oversight or mishap be applied to her forehead or chin, it would make (ye would say) but a very ridiculous beauty, wherefore the chief praise and cunning of our Poet is in the discreet using of his figures, as the skilful painters is in the good conveyance of his colours and shadowing traits of his pencil, with a delectable variety, by all measure and just proportion, and in places most aptly to be bestowed.   

CHAP, II.  
How our writing and speeches public ought to be figurative, and if they be not do greatly disgrace the cause and purpose of the speaker and writer.  
But as it hath been always reputed a great fault to use figurative speeches foolishly and indiscreetly, so is it esteemed no less an imperfection in man's utterance, to have none use of figure at all, specially in our writing and speeches public, making them but as our ordinary talk, than which nothing can be more unsavoury and far from all civility. I remember in the first year of Queens Maries reign a Knight of Yorkshire was chosen speaker of the Parliament, a good gentleman and wise, in the affairs of his shire, and not unlearned in the laws of the Realm, but as well for some lack of his teeth, as for want of language nothing thing well spoken, which at that time and business was most behooveful for him to have been: this man after he had made his Oration to the Queen; 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 friend how he liked M. Speakers Oration: marry quoth th'other, me thinks I heard not a better alehouse tale told this seven years. This happened because the good old Knight made no difference between an Oration or public speech to be delivered to th'ear of a Prince's Majesty and state of a Realm, than he would have done of an ordinary tale to be told at his table in the country, wherein all men know the odds is very great. And though grave and wise counsellors in their consultations do not use much superfluous eloquence, and also in their judicial hearings do much mislike all scholastical rhetorics: yet in such a case as it may be (and as this Parliament was) if the Lord Chancellor of England or Archbishop of Canterbury himself were to speak, he ought to do it cunningly and eloquently, which can not be without the use of figures: and nevertheless none impeachment or blemish to the gravity of their persons or of the cause: wherein I report me to them that knew Sir Nicholas Bacon Lord keeper of the great Seal, or the now Lord Treasurer of England, and have been conversant with their speeches made in the Parliament house & Starrechamber. From whose lips I have seen to proceed more grave and natural eloquence, then from all the Orators of Oxford or Cambridge, but all is as it is handled, and maketh no matter whether the same eloquence be natural to them or artificial (though I, think rather natural) yet were they known to be learned and not unskilful of th'art, when they were younger men: and as learning and art teacheth a scholar to speak, so doth it also teach a counsellor, and aswell an old man as a young, and a man in authority, aswell as a private person, and a pleader aswell as a preacher, every man after his sort and calling as best becometh: and that speech which becometh one, doth not become another, for manners of speeches, some serve to work in excess, some in mediocrity, some to grave purposes, some to light, some to be short and brief, some to be long, some to stir up affections, some to pacify and appease them, and these common despisers of good utterance, which resteth altogether in figurative speeches, being well used whether it come by nature or by art or by exercise, they be but certain gross ignorance of whom it is truly spoken scientia non habet inimicum nisi ignorantem. I have come to the Lord Keeper Sir Nicholas Bacon, & found him sitting in his gallery alone with the works of Quintilian before him, in deed he was a most eloquent man, and of rare learning and wisdom, as ever I knew England to breed, and one that joyed as much in learned men and men of good wits. A Knight of the Queen's privy chamber, once entreated a noble woman of the Court, being in great favour about her Majesty (to th'intent to remove her from a certain displeasure, which by sinister opinion she had conceived against a gentleman his friend) that it would please her to hear him speak in his own cause & not to condemn him upon his adversaries report: God forbidden said she, he is to wise for me to talk with, let him go and satisfy such a man naming him: why quoth the Knight again, had your Ladyship rather hear a man talk like a fool or like a wise man? This was because the Lady was a little perverse, and not disposed to reform herself by hearing reason, which none other can so well beat into the ignorant head, as the well spoken and eloquent man. And because I am so far waded into this discourse of eloquence and figurative speeches, I will tell you what happened on a time myself being present when certain Doctors of the civil law were heard in a litigious cause betwixt a man and his wife: before a great Magistrate who (as they can tell that knew him) was a man very well learned and grave, but somewhat sour, and of no plausible utterance: the gentleman's chance, was to say: my Lord the simple woman is not so much to blame as her lewd abbettors, who by violent persuasions have lead her into this wilfulness. Quoth the judge, what need such eloquent terms in this place, the gentleman replied, doth your Lordship mislike the term, [violent] & me thinks I speak it to great purpose: for I am sure she would never have done it, but by force of persuasion: & if persuasions were not very violent, to the mind of man it could not have wrought so strange an effect as we read that it did once in Egypt, & would have told the whole tale at large, if the Magistrate had not passed it over very pleasantly. Now to tell you the whole matter as the gentleman intended, thus it was. There came into Egypt a notable Orator, whose name was Hegesias who inveighed so much against the incommodities of this transitory life, & so highly commended death the dispatcher of all evils; as a great number of his hearers destroyed themselves, some with weapon, some with poison, others by drowning and hanging themselves to be rid out of this vale of misery, in so much as it was feared least many more of the people would have miscarried by occasion of his persuasions, if king Ptolemy had not made a public proclamation, that the Orator should avoid the country, and no more be allowed to speak in any matter. Whether now persuasions, may not be said violent and forcible to simple minds in special, I refer it to all men's judgements that hear the story. At least ways, I find this opinion, confirmed by a pretty devise or emblem that Lucianus allegeth he saw in the portrait of Hercules within the City of marseils in Provence: where they had figured a lusty old man with a long chain tied by one end at his tongue by the other end at the people's ears, who stood a far of and seemed to be drawn to him by the force of that chain fastened to his tongue, as who would say, by force of his persuasions. And to show more plainly that eloquence is of great force (and not as many men think amiss) the property and gift of young men only, but rather of old men, and a thing which better becometh hoary hairs then beardless boys, they seem to ground it upon this reason: age (say they and most truly) brings experience, experience bringeth wisdom, long life yields long use and much exercise of speech, exercise and custom with wisdom, make an assured and volluble utterance: so is it that old men more than any other sort speak most gravely, wisely, assuredly, and plausibly, which parts are all that can be required in perfit eloquence, and so in all deliberations of importance where counsellors are allowed freely to opyne & show their conceits, good persuasion is no less requisite than speech itself: for in great purposes to speak and not to be able or likely to persuade, is a vain thing: now let us return back to say more of this Poetical ornament.   

CHAP. III.  
How ornament Poetical is of two sorts according to the double virtue and efficacy of figures.  
THis ornament than is of two sorts, one to satisfy & delight th'ear only by a goodly outward show set upon the matter with words, and speeches smoothly and tunably running: another by certain intendments or sense of such words & speeches inwardly working a stir to the mind: that first quality the Greeks called Enargia, of this word argoes, because it giveth a glorious lustre and light. This latter they called Energia of ergon, because it wrought with a strong and virtuous operation; and figure breedeth them both, some serving to give gloss only to a language, some to give it efficacy by sense, and so by that means some of them serve th'ear only, some serve the conceit only and not th'ear: there be of them also that serve both turns as common servitors appointed for th'one and th'other purpose, which shallbe hereafter spoken of in place: but because we have alleged before that ornament is but the good or rather beautiful habit of language and style, and figurative speeches the instrument wherewith we burnish our language fashioning it to this or that measure and proportion, whence finally resulteth a long and continual phrase or manner of writing or speech, which we call by the name of style: we will first speak of language, then of style, lastly of figure, and declare their virtue and differences, and also their use and best application, & what portion in exornation every of them bringeth to the beautifying of this Arte.   

CHAP. FOUR  
Of Language.  
Speech is not natural to man saving for his only ability to speak, and that he is by kind apt to utter all his conceits with sounds and voices diversified many manner of ways, by means of the many & fit instruments he hath by nature to that purpose, as a broad and voluble tongue, thin and movable lips, teeth even and not shagged, thick ranged, a round vaulted palate, and a long throat, besides an excellent capacity of wit that maketh him more disciplinable and imitative than any other creature: then as to the form and action of his speech, it cometh to him by art & teaching, and by use or exercise. But after a speech is fully fashioned to the common understanding, & accepted by consent of a whole country & nation, it is called a language, & receiveth none allowed alteration, but by extraordinary occasions by little & little, as it were insensibly bringing in of many corruptions that creep along with the time: of all which matters, we have more largely spoken in our books of the originals and pedigree of the English tongue. Then when I say language, I mean the speech wherein the Poet or maker writeth be it Greek or Latin, or as our case is the vulgar English, & when it is peculiar unto a country it is called the mother speech of that people: the Greeks term 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 Welsh, or as others affirm the Cornish: I for my part think neither of both, as they be now spoken and ponounced. This part in our maker or Poet must be heedyly looked unto, that it be natural, pure, and the most usual of all his country: and for the same purpose rather that which is spoken in the king's Court, or in the good towns and Cities within the land, then in the marches and frontiers, or in port towns, where strangers haunt for traffic sake, or yet in Universities where Scholars use much peevish affectation of words out of the primative languages, or finally, in any uplandish village or corner of a Realm, where is no resort but of poor rustical or uncivil people: neither shall he follow the speech of a crafts man or carter, or other of the inferior sort, though he be inhabitant or bred in the best town and City in this Realm, for such persons do abuse good speeches by strange accents or ill shapen sounds, and false orthography. But he shall follow generally the better brought up sort, such as the Greeks call [charientes] men civil and graciously behavoured and bred. Our maker therefore at these days shall not follow Piers ploughman nor Gower nor Lydgate nor yet Chaucer, for their language is now out of use with us: neither shall he take the terms of Northern-men, such as they use in daily talk, whether they be noble men or gentlemen, or of their best clerks all is a matter: nor in effect any speech used beyond the river 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 Southern English is, no more is the far Western man's speech: ye shall therefore take the usual speech of the Court, and that of London and the shires lying about London within lx. miles, and not much above. I say not this but that in every shire of England there be gentlemen and others that speak but specially write as good Southern as we of Middlesex or Surrey do, but not the common people of every shire, to whom the gentlemen, and also their learned clerks do for the most part condescend, but herein we are already ruled by th'English Dictionaries and other books written by learned men, and therefore it needeth none other direction in that behalf. Albeit peradventure some small admonition be not impertinent, for we find in our English writers many words and speeches amendable, & ye shall see in some many inkhorn terms so ill affected brought in by men of learning as preachers and schoolmasters: and many strange terms of other languages by Secretaries and Merchants and travailours, and many dark words and not usual nor well sounding, though they be daily spoken in Court. Wherefore great heed must be taken by our maker in this point that his choice be good. And peradventure the writer hereof be in that behalf no less faulty than any other, using many strange and unaccustomed words and borrowed from other languages: and in that respect himself no meet Magistrate to reform the same errors in any other person, but since he is not unwilling to acknowledge his own fault, and can the better tell how to amend it, he may seem a more excusable corrector of other men's: he intendeth therefore for an indifferent way and universal benefit to tax himself first and before any others.  
These be words used by th'author in this present treatise, scientificke, but with some reason, for it answereth the word mechanical, which no other word could have done so properly, for when he spoke of all artificers which rest either in science or in handy craft, it followed necessarily that scientifique should be coupled with mechanical: or else neither of both to have been allowed, but in their places: a man of science liberal, and a handicrafts man, which had not been 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 usual, but to them that are acquainted with the affairs of Court: and so for his jolly magnificence (as this case is) may be accepted among Courtiers, for whom this is specially written. A man might have said in stead of Maior-domo, the French word (master d'hostell) but ill-favouredly, or the right English word (Lord Steward.) But me thinks for my own opinion this word Maior-domo though he be borrowed, is more acceptable than any of the rest, other men may judge otherwise. Politien, this word also is received from the Frenchmen, but at this day usual in Court and with all good Secretaries: and cannot find an English word to match him, for to have said a man politic, had not been so well: because in truth that had been no more than to have said a civil person. Politien is rather a surveyor of civility than civil, & a public minister or Counsellor in the state. Ye have also this word Conduct, a French word, but well allowed of us, and long since usual, it sounds somewhat more than this word (leading) for it is applied only to the leading of a Captain, and not as a little boy should lead a blind man, therefore more proper to the case when he said, conduct of whole armies: ye find also this word Idiom, taken from the Greeks, yet serving aptly, when a man wanteth to express so much unless it be in two words, which surplusage to avoid, we are allowed to draw in other words single, and as much significative: this word significative is borrowed of the Latin and French, but to us brought in first by some Nobleman's Secretary, as I think, yet doth so well serve the turn, as it could not now be spared: and many more like usurped Latin and French words: as, Method, methodical, placation, function, assubtiling, refining, compendious, prolix, figurative, inveigle. A term borrowed of our common Lawyers▪ impression, also a new term, but well expressing the matter, and more than our English word. These words, Numerous, numerositee, metrical, harmonical, but they cannot be refused, specially in this place for description of the art. Also ye find these words, penetrate, penetrable, indignity, which I cannot see how we may spare them, whatsoever fault we find with Inkhorn terms: for our speech wanteth words to such sense so well to be used: yet in stead of indignity, ye have unworthiness: and for penetrate, we may say pierce, and that a French term also, or broche, or enter into with violence, but not so well sounding as penetrate. Item, savage, for wild: obscure, for dark. Item these words, declination, delineation, dimention, are scholastical terms in deed, and yet very proper. But peradventure (& 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 us, as these words, audacious, for bold: facundity, 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 enough to satisfy us all in these few verses.  
Multa renascentur quae iam cecidere cadentque  
Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula si volet usus  
Quem penes arbitrium est & vis & norma loquendi.  
Which I have thus englished, but nothing with so good grace, nor so briefly as the Poet wrote.  
Many a word yfalne shall eft arise  
And such as now been held in highest prize  
Will fall as fast, when use and custom will  
Only umpiers of speech, for force and skill.   

CHAP. V.  
Of Style.  
STile is a constant & continual phrase or tenor of speaking and writing, extending to the whole tale or process of the poem or history, and not properly to any piece or member of a tale: but is of words speeches and sentences together, a certain contrived form and quality, many times natural to the writer, many times his peculiar by election and art, and such as either he keepeth by skill, or holdeth on by ignorance, and will not or peradventure cannot easily alter into any other. So we say that Cicero's style, and Salusts were not one, nor Caesar's and Livies, nor Homer's and Hesiodus, nor Herodotus and Theucidides, nor Euripides & Aristophones, nor Erasmus and Budeus styles. And because this continual course and manner of writing or speech showeth the matter and disposition of the writer's mind, more than one or few words or sentences can show, therefore there be that have called style, the image of man [mentis character] for man is but his mind, and as his mind is tempered and qualified, so are his speeches and language at large, and his inward conceits be the metal of his mind and his manner of utterance the very warp & woof of his conceits, more plain, or busy and intricate, or otherwise affected after the rate. Most men say that not any one point in all Physiognomy is so certain, as to judge a man's manners by his eye: but more assuredly in mine opinion, by his daily manner of speech and ordinary writing. For if the man be grave, his speech and style is grave: if lightheaded, his style and language also light: if the mind be haughty and hot, the speech and style is also vehement and stirring: if it be cold and temperate, the style is also very modest: if it be humble, or base and meek, so is also the language and style. And yet peradventure not altogether so, but that every man's style is for the most part according to the matter and subject of the writer, or so ought to be, and conformable thereunto. Then again may it be said as well, that men do choose their subjects according to the metal of their minds, & therefore a high minded man chooseth him high & lofty matter to write of. The base courage, matter base & low, the mean & modest mind, mean & moderate matters after the rate. Howsoever it be, we find that under these three principal complexions (if I may with leave so term them) high, mean and base style, there be contained many other humours or qualities of style, as the plain and obscure, the rough and smooth, the facile and hard, the plentiful and barren, the rude and eloquent, the strong and feeble, the vehement and cold styles, all which in their evil are to be reform, and the good to be kept and used. But generally to have the style decent & comely it behoveth the maker or Poet to follow the nature of his subject, that is if his matter be high and lofty that the style be so to, if mean, the style also to be mean, if base, the style humble and base accordingly: and they that do otherwise use it, applying to mean matter, hie and lofty style, and to high matters, style either mean or base, and to the base matters, the mean or high style, do utterly disgrace their poesy and show themselves nothing skilful in their art, nor having regard to the decency, which is the chief praise of any writer. Therefore to rid all lovers of learning from that error, I will as near as I can set down, which matters be high and lofty, which be but mean, and which be low and base, to the intent the styles may be fashioned to the matters, and keep their decorum and good proportion in every respect: I am not ignorant that many good clerks be contrary to mine opinion, and say that the lofty style may be decently used in a mean and base subject & contrariwise, which I do in part acknowledge, but with a reasonable qualification. For Homer hath so used it in his trifling work of Batrachomyomachia: that is in his treatise of the war betwixt the frogs and the mice. Virgil also in his bucolickes, and in his georgics, whereof the one is counted mean, the other base, that is the husbandman's discourses and the shepherds, but hereunto serveth a reason in my simple conceit: for first to that trifling poem of Homer, though the frog and the mouse be but little and ridiculous beasts, yet to treat of war is an high subject, and a thing in every respect terrible and dangerous to them that it alights on: and therefore of learned duty asketh martial grandiloquence, if it be set forth in his kind and nature of war, even betwixt the basest creatures that can be imagined: so also is the Ant or pismire, and they be but little creeping things, not perfect beasts, but insect, or worms: yet in describing their nature & instinct, and their manner of life approaching to the form of a commonwealth, and their properties not unlike to the virtues of most excellent governors and captains, it asketh a more majesty of speech than would the description of any other beasts life or nature, and perchance of many matters pertaining unto the base sort of men, because it resembleth the history of a civil regiment, and of them all the chief and most principal which is Monarchy: so also in his bucolics, which are but pastoral speeches and the basest of any other poem in their own proper nature: Virgil used a somewhat swelling style when he came to insinuate the birth of Marcellus heir apparent to the Emperor Augustus, as child to his sister, aspiring by hope and greatness of the house, to the succession of the Empire, and establishment thereof in that family: whereupon Virgil could do no less then to use such manner of style, whatsoever condition the poem were of and this was decent, & no fault or blemish, to confound the tennors of the styles for that cause. But now when I remember me again that this Eglogue, (for I have read it somewhere) was conceived by Octavian th'emperor to be written to the honour of Pollio a citizen of Rome, & of no great nobility, the same was misliked again as an implicative, nothing decent nor proportionable to Pollio his fortunes and calling, in which respect I might say likewise the style was not to be such as if it had been for the Emperors own honour, and those of the blood imperial, than which subject there could not be among the Roman writers an higher nor graver to treat upon: so can I not be removed from mine opinion, but still me thinks that in all decency the style ought to conform with the nature of the subject, otherwise if a writer will seem to observe no decorum at all, nor pass how he fashion his tale to his matter, who doubteth but he may in the lightest cause speak like a Pope, & in the gravest matters prate like a parrot, & find words & phrases enough to serve both turns, and neither of them commendably, for neither is all that may be written of Kings and Princes such as ought to keep a high style, nor all that may be written upon a shepherd to keep the low, but according to the matter reported, if that be of high or base nature: for every petty pleasure, and vain delight of a king are not to accounted high matter for the height of his estate, but mean and perchance very base and vile: nor so a Poet or historiographer, could decently with a high style report the vanities of Nero, the ribaudries of Caligula, the idleness of Domitian, & the riots of Heliogabalus. But well the magnanimity and honourable ambition of Caesar, the prosperities of Augustus, the gravity of Tiberius, the bounty of Trajan, the wisdom of Aurelius, and generally all that which concerned the highest honours of Emperors, their birth, alliaunces, government, exploits in war and peace, and other public affairs: for they be matter stately and high, and require a style to be lift up and advanced by choice of words, phrases, sentences, and figures, high, lofty, eloquent, & magnifik in proportion: so be the mean matters, to be carried with all words and speeches of smoothness and pleasant moderation, & finally the base things to be holden within their teder, by a low, mild, and simple manner of utterance, creeping rather then climbing, & marching rather then mounting upwards, with the wings of the stately subjects and style.   

CHAP. VI  
Of the high, low, and mean subject.  
THe matters therefore that concern the Gods and divine 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 accidents of time, as the greatest affairs of war & peace, these be all high subjects, and therefore are delivered over to the Poet's Hymnick & historical who be occupied either in divine laudes, or in heroical reports: the mean matters be those that concern mean men, their life and business, as lawyers, gentlemen, and merchants, good householders and honest Citizens, and which sound neither to matters of state nor of war, nor leagues, nor great alliances, but smatch all the common conversation, as of the civiller and better sort of men: the base and low matters be the doings of the common artificer, serving man, yeoman, groom, husbandman, day-labourer, sailor, shepherd, swynard, and such like of homely calling, degree and bringing up: so that in every of the said three degrees, not the self same virtues be equally to be praised nor the same vices, equally to be dispraised, nor their loves, marriages, quarrels, contracts and other behaviours, be like high nor do require to be set fourth with the like style: but every one in his degree and decency, which made that all hymns and histories, and Tragedies, were written in the high style: all Comedies and Interludes and other common Poesies of loves, and such like in the mean style, all Eglogues and pastoral poems in the low and base style, otherwise they had been utterly disproporcioned: likewise for the same cause some phrases and figures be only peculiar to the high style, some to the base or mean, some common to all three, as shallbe declared more at large hereafter when we come to speak of figure and phrase: also some words and speeches and sentences do become the high style, that do not become th'other two. And contrariwise, as shallbe said when we talk of words and sentences: finally some kind of measure and concord, do not beseem the high style, that well become the mean and low, as we have said speaking of concord and measure. But generally the high style is disgraced and made foolish and ridiculous by all words affected, counterfeit, and puffed up, as it were a windball carrying more countenance than matter, and can not be better resembled then to these midsummer pageants in London, where to make the people wonder are set forth great and ugly Giants marching as if they were alive, and armed at all points, but within they are stuffed full of brown paper and tow, which the shrewd boys underpeering, do guilefully discover and turn to a great derision: also all dark and unaccustomed words, or rustical and homely, and sentences that hold too much of the merry & light, or infamous & unshamefast are to be accounted of the same sort, for such speeches become not Princes, nor great estates, nor them that writ of their doings to utter or report and intermingle with the grave and weighty matters.   

CHAP. VII.  
Of Figures and figurative speeches.  
AS figures be the instruments of ornament in every language, so be they also in a sort abuses or rather trespasses in speech, because they pass the ordinary limits of common utterance, and be occupied of purpose to deceive the ear and also the mind, drawing it from plainness and simplicity to a certain doubleness, whereby our talk is the more guileful & abusing, for what else is your Metaphor but an inversion of sense by transport; your allegory by a duplicity of meaning or dissimulation under covert and dark intendments: one while speaking obscurely and in riddle called Aenigma: another while by common proverb or Adage called Paremia: then by merry scoff 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 giving credit, as by your Hyperbole, and many other ways seeking to inveigle and appassionate the mind: which thing made the grave judges Areopagites (as I find written) to forbid all manner of figurative speeches to be used before them in their consistory of justice, as mere illusions to the mind, and wresters of upright judgement, saying that to allow such manner of foreign & coloured talk to make the judges affectioned, were all one as if the carpenter before he began to square his timber would make his squire crooked: in so much as the strait and upright mind of a judge is the very rule of justice till it be perverted by affection. This no doubt is true and was by them gravely considered: but in this case because our maker or Poet is appointed not for a judge, but rather for a pleader, and that of pleasant & lovely causes and nothing perilous, such as be those for the trial of life, limb, or livelihood; and before judges neither sour nor severe, but in the ear of princely dames, young ladies, gentlewomen and courtiers, being all for the most part either meek of nature, or of pleasant humour, and that all his abuses tend but to dispose the hearers to mirth and solace by pleasant conveyance and efficacy of speech, they are not in truth to be accounted vices but for virtues in the poetical science very commendable. On the other side, such trespasses in speech (whereof there be many) as give dolour and disliking to the ear & mind, by any foul indecency or disproportion of sound, situation, or sense, 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 whatsoever is so, cannot justly be misliked. In which respect it may come to pass that what the Grammarian setteth down for a viciositee in speech may become a virtue and no vice, contrariwise his commended figure may fall into a reproachful 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 showing any defect in the use of his figures, he cannot lightly do amiss, if he have beside (as that must needs be) a special regard to all circumstances of the person, place, time, cause and purpose he hath in hand, which being well observed it easily avoideth all the recited inconveniences, and maketh now and then very vice go for a formal virtue in the exercise of this Arte.   

CHAP. VIII.  
Six points set down by our learned forefathers for a general regiment of all good utterance be it by mouth or by writing.  
But before there had been yet any precise observation made of figurative speeches, the first learned artificers of language considered that the beauty and good grace of utterance rested in no many points: and whatsoever transgressed those limits, they counted it for vicious; and thereupon did set down a manner of regiment in all speech generally to be observed, consisting in six points. First they said that there ought to be kept a decent proportion in our writings and speech, which they termed Analogia. Secondly, that it ought to be voluble upon the tongue, and tunable to the ear, which they called Tasis. Thirdly, that it were not tediously long but brief and compendious, as the matter might bear, which they called Syntomia. Fourthly, that it should carry an orderly and good construction, which they called Synthesis. Fiftly, that it should be a sound, proper and natural speech, which they called Ciriologia. Sixtly, that it should be lively & 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 conceived, there remained a greater difficulty to know what this proportion, volubility, good construction, & the rest were, otherwise we could not be ever the more relieved. It was therefore of necessity that a more curious and particular description should be made of every manner of speech, either transgressing or agreeing with their said general prescript. Whereupon it came to pass, that all the commendable parts of speech were set forth by the name of figures, and all the illaudable parts under the name of vices, or viciosities, of both which it shall be spoken in their places.   

CHAP. IX.  
How the Greeks first, and afterward the Latins, invented new names for every figure, which this Author is also enforced to do in his vulgar.  
THe Greeks were a happy people for the freedom & liberty of their language, because it was allowed them to invent any new name that they listed and to piece many words together to make of them one entire, much more significative than the single word. So among other things did they to their figurative speeches devise certain names. The Latins came somewhat behind them in that point, and for want of convenient single words to express that which the Greeks could do by cobbling many words together, they were feign to use the Greeks still, till after many years that the learned Orators and good Grammarians among the Romans, as Cicero, Varro, Quintilian, & others strained themselves to give the Greek words Latin names, and yet nothing so apt and fitty. The same course are we driven to follow in this description, since we are enforced to cull out for the use of our Poet or maker all the most commendable figures. Now to make them known (as behoveth) either we must do it by th'original Greek name or by the Latin, or by our own. But when I consider to what sort of Readers I writ, & how ill faring the Greek term would sound in the English ear, then also how short the Latins come to express many of the Greek originals. Finally, how well our language serveth to supply the full signification of them both, I have thought it no less lawful, yea peradventure under licence of the learned, more laudable to use our own natural, if they be well chosen, and of proper signification, than to borrow theirs. So shall not our English Poets, though they be to seek of the Greek and Latin languages, lament for lack of knowledge sufficient to the purpose of this art. And in case any of these new English names given by me to any figure, shall happen to offend. I pray that the learned will bear with me and to think the strangeness thereof proceeds but of novelty and disaquaintance with our ears, which in process of time, and by custom will frame very well: and such others as are not learned in the primitive languages, if they happen to hit upon any new name of mine (so ridiculous in their opinion) as may move them to laughter, let such persons, yet assure themselves that such names go as near as may be to their originals, or else serve better to the purpose of the figure then the very original, reserving always, that such new name should not be unpleasant in our vulgar nor harsh upon the tongue: and where it shall happen otherwise, that it may please the reader to think that hardly any other name in our English could be found to serve the turn better. Again if to avoid the hazard of this blame I should have kept the Greek or Latin still it would have appeared a little too scholastical for our makers, and a piece of work more fit for clerks then for Courtiers for whose instruction this travail is taken: and if I should have left out both the Greek and Latin name, and put in none of our own neither: well perchance might the rule of the figure have been set down, but no convenient name to hold him in memory. It was therefore expedient we devised for every figure of importance his vulgar name, and to join the Greek or Latin original with them; after that sort much better satisfying aswell the vulgar as the learned learner, and also the authors own purpose, which is to make of a ruderimer, a learned and a Courtly Poet.   

CHAP. X.  
A division of figures, and how they serve in exornation of language.  
ANd because our chief purpose herein is for the learning of Ladies and young Gentlewomen, or idle Courtiers, desirous to become skilful in their own mother tongue, and for their private recreation to make now & then ditties of pleasure, thinking for our part none other science so fit for them & the place as that which teacheth beau semblant, the chief profession aswell of Courting as of poesy: since to such manner of minds nothing is more cumbersome than tedious doctrines and schollarly methods of discipline, we have in our own conceit devised a new and strange model of this art, fit to please the Court then the school, and yet not unnecessary for all such as be willing themselves to become good makers in the vulgar, or to be able to judge of other men's makings: wherefore, intending to follow the course which we have begun, thus we say: that though the language of our Poet or maker be pure and cleanly, and not disgraced by such vicious parts as have been before remembered in the Chapter of language, be sufficiently pleasing and commendable for the ordinary use of speech; yet is not the same so well appointed for all purposes of the excellent Poet, as when it is gallantly arrayed in all his colours which figure can set upon it, therefore we are now further to determine of figures and figurative speeches. Figurative speech is a novelty of language evidently (and yet not absurdly) estranged from the ordinary habit and manner of our daily talk and writing and figure itself is a certain lively or good grace set upon words, speeches and sentences to some purpose and not in vain, giving them ornament or efficacy by many manner of alterations in shape, in sound, and also in sense, sometime by way of surplusage, sometime by defect, sometime by disorder, or mutation, & also by putting into our speeches more pith and substance, subtility, quickness, efficacy or moderation, in this or that sort tuning and tempering them, by amplification, abridgement, opening, closing, enforcing, meekening or otherwise disposing them to the best purpose: whereupon the learned clerks who have written methodically of this Art in the two master languages, Greek and Latin, have sorted all their figures into three ranks, and the first they bestowed upon the Poet only: the second upon the Poet and Orator indifferently: the third upon the Orator alone. And that first sort of figures doth serve th'ear only and may be therefore called Auricular: your second serves the conceit only and not th'ear, and may be called sensable, not sensible nor yet sententious: your third sort serves as well th'ear as the conceit and may be called sententious figures, because not only they properly appertain to full sentences, for beautifying them with a currant & pleasant numerosity, but also giving them efficacy, and enlarging the whole matter beside with copious amplifications. I doubt not but some busy carpers will scorn at my new devised terms: auricular and sensable, saying that I might with better warrant have used in their steads these words, orthographical or syntacticall, which the learned Grammarians left ready made to our hands, and do import as much as th'other that I have brought, which thing peradventure I deny not in part, and nevertheless for some causes thought them not so necessary: but with these manner of men I do willingly bear, in respect of their laudable endeavour to allow antiquity and fly innovation: with like benevolence I trust they will bear with me writing in the vulgar speech and seeking by my novelties to satisfy not the school but the Court: whereas they know very well all old things soon wax stolen & loathsome, and the new devices are ever dainty and delicate, the vulgar instruction requiring also vulgar and communicable terms, not clerkly or uncouth as are all these of the Greek and Latin languages primitively received, unless they be qualified or by much use and custom allowed and our ears made acquainted with them. Thus than I say that auricular figures be those which work alteration in th'ear by sound, accent, time, and slipper volubility in utterance such as for that respect was called by the ancients numerosity of speech. And not only the whole body of a tale in poem or history may be made in such sort pleasant and agreeable to the ear, but also every clause by itself, and every single word carried in a clause, may have their pleasant sweetness apart. And so long as this quality extendeth but to the outward tuning of the speech reaching no higher than th'ear and forcing the mind little or nothing, it is that virtue which the Greeks call Enargia and is the office of the auricular figures to perform. Therefore as the members of language at large are whole sentences, and sentences are compact of clauses, and clauses of words, and every word of letters and syllables, so is the alteration (be it but of a syllable or letter) much material to the sound and sweetness of utterance. Wherefore beginning first at the smallest alterations which rest in letters and syllables, the first sort of our figures auricular we do appoint to single words as they lie in language; the second to clauses of speech; the third to perfect sentences and to the whole mass or body of the tale be it poem or history written or reported.   

CHAP. XI.  
Of auricular figures appertaining to single words and working by their divers sounds and audible tunes alteration to the ear only and not the mind.  
A Word as he lieth in course of language is many ways figured and thereby not a little altered in sound, which consequently altars the tune and harmony of a meeter as to the ear. And this alteration is sometimes by adding sometimes by rabbating of a syllable or letter to or from a word either in the beginning, middle or ending joining or unjoining of syllables and letters suppressing or confounding their several sounds, or by misplacing of a letter, or by clear exchange of one letter for another, or by wrong ranging of the accent. And your figures of addition or surplus be three, videl. In the beginning, as to say: I-doen, for done, endanger, for danger, embolden, for bolden.  
In the middle, as to say renuers, for reverses, meeterly, for meetly, goldylockes, for goldlockes.  
In th'end, as to say [remembren] for [remember [[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 evil:]  
From the middle, as to say [paraunter for peraventure] poorety for poverty] sovereign for sovereign] ta'en for taken.]  
From the end, as to say [morn for morning] bet for better] and such like.  
Your swallowing or eating up one letter by another is when two vowels meet, whereof th'ones sound goeth into other, as to say for to attain t'attain] for sorrow and smart sor ' and smart.]  
Your displacing of a fillable as to say [desire for desire.] fire for fire.]  
By clear exchange of one letter or syllable for another, as to say evermare for evermore, wrong for wrong: gold for gold: fright for freight and a hundred more, which be commonly misused and strained to make rhyme.  
By wrong ranging the accent of a syllable by which mean a short syllable is made long and a long short as to say soveráine for souéraine: gracious for grátious: éndure for endúre: Salómon for Sálomon.  
These many ways may our maker alter his words, and sometimes it is done for pleasure to give a better sound, sometimes upon necessity, and to make up the rhyme. But our maker must take heed that he be not to bold specially in exchange of one letter for another, for unless usual speech and custom allow it, it is a fault and no figure, and because these be figures of the smallest importance, I forbear to give them any vulgar name.   

CHAP. XII.  
Of Auricular figures pertaining to clauses of speech and by them working no little alteration to the care.  
AS your single words may be many ways transfigured to make the metre or verse more tunable and melodious, so also may your whole and entire clauses be in such sort contrived by the order of their construction as the ear may receive a certain recreation, although the mind for any novelty of sense be little or nothing affected. And therefore all your figures of grammatical construction, I account them but merely auricular in that they reach no further than the ear. To which there will appear some sweet or unsavoury point to offer you dolour or delight, either by some evident defect, or surplusage, or disorder, or immutation in the same speeches notably altering either the congruity grammatical, or the sense, or both. And first of those that work by defect, if but one word or some little portion of speech be wanting, it may be supplied by ordinary understanding and virtue 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 entreated, for he is [easy] to be entreated: I thank God I am to live like a Gentleman, for I am [able] to live, and the Spaniard said in his devise of arms acuerdo oluido, I remember I forget whereas in right congruity of speech it should be. I remember [that I [do] forget. And in a devise of our own [empechement pur a choison] a let for a furtherance whereas it should be said [use] a let for a furtherance, and a number more like speeches defective, and supplied by common understanding.  
But if it be to more clauses than one, that some such word be supplied to perfect the congruity or sense of them all, it is by the figure [Zeugma] we call him the [single supply] because by one word we serve many clauses of one congruity, 
Zeugma or the Single supply.  and may be likened to the man that serves many masters at once, but all of one country or kindred: as to say.  
Fellows and friends and kin forsook me quite.  
Here this word forsook satisfieth the congruity and sense of all three clauses, which would require every of them as much. And as we setting forth her majesties regal pedigree, said in this figure of [Single supply.]  
Her grandsires Father and Brother was a King  
Her mother a crowned Queen, her Sister and herself.  
Whereas ye see this one word [was] serves them all in that they require but one congruity and sense.  
Yet hath this figure of [Single supply] another property, occasioning him to change now and then his name: by the order of his supply, for if it be placed in the forefront of all the several clauses whom he is to serve as a common servitor, then is he called by the Greeks Prozeugma, by us the Ringleader: 
Prozeugma, or the Ringleader.  thus 
Her beauty pierced mine eye, her speech mine woeful heart:  
Her presence all the powers of my discourse. etc.   
Where ye see this one word [pierced] placed in the forward, satisfieth both in sense & congruity all those other clauses that follow him.  
And if such word of supply be placed in the middle of all such clauses as he serves: it is by the Greeks called Mezozeugma, 
Mezozeugma or the Middle marcher.  by us the [Middlemarcher] thus: 
Fair maids beauty (alack) with years it wears away,  
And with wether and sickness, and sorrow as they say.   
Where ye see this word [wears] serves one clause before him, and two clauses behind him, in one and the same sense and congruity. And in this verse, 
Either the troth or talk nothing at all.   
Where this word [talk] serves the clause before and also behind. But if such supply 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 us the [Rerewarder] thus: 
My mates that want, to keep me company,  
And my neighbours, who dwelled next to my wall,  
The friends that swore, they would not stick to die  
In my quarrel: they are fled from me all.   
Where ye see this word [fled from me] serve all the three clauses requiring but one congruity & sense. But if such want be in sundry clauses, and of several congruities or sense, and the supply be made to serve them all, it is by the figure Sillepsis, 
Sillepsis, or the Double supply.  whom for that respect we call the [double supply] conceiving, and, as it were, comprehending under one, a supply of two natures, and may be likened to the man that serves many masters at once, being of strange Countries or kindreds, as in these verses, where the lamenting widow showed the Pilgrim the graves in which her husband & children lay buried.  
Here my sweet sons and daughters all my bliss,  
Yonder mine own dear husband buried is.  
Where ye see one verb singular supplieth the plural and singular, and thus 
judge ye lovers, if it be strange or no:  
My Lady laughs for joy, and I for wo.   
Where ye see a third person supply himself and a first person. And thus, 
Madam ye never showed yourself untrue,  
Nor my deserts would ever suffer you.   
Viz. to show. Where ye see the mood Indicative supply himself and an Infinitive. And the like in these other.  
I never yet failed you in constancy,  
Nor never do intend until I die.  
Viz. [to show.] Thus much for the congruity, now for the sense. One wrote thus of a young man, who slew a villain that had killed his father, and ravished his mother.  
Thus valiantly and with a manly mind,  
And by one feat of everlasting fame,  
This lusty lad fully requited kind,  
His father's death, and eke his mother's shame.  
Where ye see this word [requite] serve a double sense: that is to say, to revenge, and to satisfy. For the parent's injury was revenged, and the duty of nature performed or satisfied by the child. But if this supply be made to sundry clauses, or to one clause sundry times iterated, and by several words, so as every clause hath his own supply: 
Hypozeuxis. or the Substitute.  then is it called by the Greeks Hypozeuxis, we call him the substitute after his original, and is a supply with iteration, as thus: 
Unto the king she went, and to the king she said,  
Mine own liege Lord behold thy poor handmaid.   
Here [went to the king] and [said to the king] be but one clause iterated with words of sundry supply. Or as in these verses following.  
My Lady gave me, my Lady witted not what,  
giving me leave to be her Sovereign:  
For by such gift my Lady hath done that,  
Which whilst she lives she may not call again.  
Here [my Lady gave] and [my Lady witted] be supplies with iteration, by virtue of this figure.  
Ye have another auricular figure of defect, and is when we begin to speak a thing, and break of in the middle way, as if either it needed no further to be spoken of, or that we were ashamed, or afraid to speak it out. It is also sometimes done by way of threatening, and to show a moderation of anger. The Greeks call him Aposiopesis. I, the figure of silence, or of interruption, indifferently. 
Aposiopesis. or the Figure of silence   
If we do interrupt our speech for fear, this may be an example, where as one durst not make the true report as it was, but stayed half way for fear of offence, thus: 
He said you were, I dare not tell you plain:  
For words once out, never return again.   
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 sweet heart, whom he checked for secretly whispering with a suspected person.  
And did ye not come by his chamber door?  
And tell him that: go to, I say no more.  
If it be for anger or by way of menace or to show a moderation of wrath as the grave and discreeter sort of men do, then thus.  
If I take you with such another cast  
I swear by God, but let this be the last.  
Thinking to have said further viz. I will punish you.  
If it be for none of all these causes but upon some sudden occasion that moves a man to break of his tale, than thus.  
He told me all at large: lo yonder is the man  
Let himself tell the tale that best tell can.  
This figure is fit for fantastical heads and such as be sudden or lack memory. I know one of good learning that greatly blemisheth his discretion with this manner of speech: for if he be in the gravest matter of the world talking, he will upon the sudden for the flying of a bird overthwart the way, or some other such sleight cause, interrupt his tale and never return to it again.  
Ye have yet another manner of speech purporting at the first blush a defect which afterward is supplied the, Greeks call him Prolepsis, we the Propounder, or the Explaner which ye will: 
Prolepsis. or the Propounder.  because he works both effects, as thus, where in certain verses we describe the triumphant interview of two great Princesses thus.  
These two great Queens, came marching hand in hand,  
Unto the hall, where store of Princes stand:  
And people of all countries to behold,  
Coronis all clad, in purple cloth of gold:  
Celiar in robes, of silver tissue white,  
With rich rubies, and pearls all bedight.  
Here ye see the first proposition in a sort defective and of imperfect sense, till ye come by division to explain and enlarge it, but if we should follow the original right, we ought rather to call him the forestaller, for like as he that stands in the market way, and takes all up before it come to the market in gross and sells it by retail, so by this manner of speech our maker sets down before all the matter by a brief proposition, and afterward explaineth it by a division more particularly.  
By this other example it appears also.  
Then dear Lady I pray you let it be,  
That our long love may lead us to agree:  
Me since I may not wed you to my wife,  
To serve you as a mistress all my life:  
Ye that may not me for your husband have,  
To claim me for your servant and your slave.   

CHAP. XII.  
Of your figures Auricular working by disorder.  
TO all their speeches which wrought by disorder the Greeks gave a general name [Hiperbaton] as much to say as the [trespasser] and because such disorder may be committed many ways it receiveth sundry particulars under him, 
Hiperbaton, or the Trespasser.  whereof some are only proper to the Greeks and Latins and not to us, other some ordinary in our manner of speeches, but so foul and intolerable as I will not seem to place them among the figures, but do range them as they deserve among the vicious or faulty speeches.  

Parenthesis. or the Insertour.  Your first figure of tolerable disorder is [Parenthesis] or by an English name the [Insertour] and is when ye will seem for larger information or some other purpose, to piece or graff in the midst of your tale an unnecessary parcel of speech, which nevertheless may be thence without any detriment to the rest. The figure is so common that it needeth none example, nevertheless because we are to teach Ladies and Gentlewomen to know their school points and terms appertaining to the Art, we may not refuse to yield examples even in the plainest cases, as that of master Dyer's very aptly.  
But now my Deer (for so my love makes me to call you still)  
That love I say, that luckless love, that works me all this ill.  
Also in our Eglogue entitled Elpine, which we made being but eighteen years old, to king Edward the sixth a Prince of great hope, we surmised that the Pilot of a ship answering the King, being inquisitive and desirous to know all the parts of the ship and tackle, what they were, & to what use they served, using this insertion or Parenthesis.  
Sovereign Lord (for why a greater name  
To one on earth no mortal tongue can frame  
No stately style can give the practised pen:  
To one on earth conversant among men.)  
And so proceeds to answer the king's question?  
The ship thou seest sailing in sea so large, etc.  
This insertion is very long and utterly impertinent to the principal matter, and makes a great gap in the tale, nevertheless is no disgrace but rather a beauty and to very good purpose, but you must not use such insertions often nor to thick, nor those that be very long as this of ours, for it will breed great confusion to have the tale so much interrupted.  
Ye have another manner of disordered speech, when ye misplace your words or clauses and set that before which should be behind, & è converso, we call it in English proverb, 
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 used is tolerable enough, and many times scarce perceivable, unless the sense be thereby made very absurd: as he that described his manner of departure from his mistress, said thus not much to be misliked.  
I kissed her cherry lip and took my leave:  
For I took my leave and kissed her: And yet I cannot well say whether a man use to kiss before he take his leave, or take his leave before he kiss, or that it be all one business. It seems the taking leave is by using some speech, entreating licence of departure: the kiss a knitting up of the farewell, and as it were a testimonial of the licence without which here in England one may not presume of courtesy to departed, let young Courtiers decide this controversy. One describing his landing upon a strange coast, said thus preposterously.  
When we had climbed the clifs, and were a shore,  
Whereas he should have said by good order.  
When we were come a shore and climbed had the cliffs  
For one must be on land ere he can climb. And as another said: 
My dame that bred me up and bore me in her womb.   
Whereas the bearing is before the bringing up. All your other figures of disorder because they rather seem deformities than beauties of language, for so many of them as be notoriously undecent, and make no good harmony, I place them in the Chapter of vices hereafter following.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
Of your figures Auricular that work by Surplusage.  
YOur figures auricular that work by surplusage, such of them as be material and of importance to the sense or beauty of your language, I refer them to the harmonical speeches of orators among the figures rhetorical, as be those of repetition, and iteration or amplification. All other sorts of surplusage, I account rather vicious then figurative, & therefore not melodious as shallbe remembered in the chapter of viciosities or faulty speeches.   

CHAP. XV.  
Of auricular figures working by exchange.  

Enallage. or the Figure of exchange.  YOur figures that work auricularly by exchange, were more observable to the Greeks and Latins for the braveness of their language, over that ours is, and for the multiplicity of their Grammatical accidents, or verbal affects, as I may term them, that is to say, their divers cases, moods, tenses, genders, with variable terminations, by reason whereof, they changed not the very word, but kept the word, and changed the shape of him only, using one case for another, or tense, or person, or gender, or number, or mood. We, having no such variety of accidents, have little or no use of this figure. They called it Enallage.  
But another sort of exchange which they had, and very pretty, 
Hipallage. or the Changeling.  we do likewise use, 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 sense is quite perverted 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 with me and stay not, come stay with me and dine not.  
A certain piteous lover, to move his mistress to compassion, wrote among other amorous verses, this one.  
Madame, I set your eyes before mine woes.  
For, mine woes before your eyes, spoken to th'intent to win favour in her sight.  
But that was pretty of a certain sorry man of law, that gave his Client but bad council, and yet found fault with his fee, and said: my fee, good friend, hath deserved better counsel. Good master, quoth the Client, if yourself had not said so, I would never have believed it: but now I think as you do. The man of law perceiving his error, I tell thee (quoth he) my counsel hath deserved a better fee. Yet of all others was that a most ridiculous, but very true exchange, which the yeoman of London used with his Sergeant at the Mace, who said he would go into the country, and make merry a day or two, while his man plied his business at home: an example of it you shall find in our Interlude entitled Lusty London: the Sergeant, for sparing of hors-hire, said he would go with the Carrier on foot. That is not for your worship, said his yeoman, whereunto the Sergeant replied.  
I wot what I mean john, it is for to stay  
And company the knave Carrier, for losing my way.  
The yeoman thinking it good manner to sooth his Sergeant, said again, 
I mean what I wot Sir, your best is to high,  
And carry a knave with you for company.   
Ye see a notorious exchange of the construction, and application of the words in this: I wot what I mean; and I mean what I wot, and in the other, company the knave Carrier, and carry a knave in your company. The Greeks call this figure [Hipallage] the Latins Submutatio, we in our vulgar may call him the [underchange] but I had rather have him called the [Changeling] nothing at all swerving from his original, and much more aptly to the purpose, and pleasanter to bear in memory: specially for our Ladies and pretty mistresses in Court, for whose learning I writ, because it is a term often in their mouths, and alluding to the opinion of Nurses, who are wont to say, that the Fairies use to steal the fairest children out of their cradles, and put other ill favoured in their places, which they called changelings, or Elves: so, if ye mark, doth our Poet, or maker play with his words, using a wrong construction for a right, and an absurd for a sensible, by manner of exchange.   

CHAP. XVI.  
Of some other figures which because they serve chief to make the metres tunable and melodious, and affect not the mind but very little, be placed among the auricular.  

Omoioteleton, or the Like lose.  TThe Greeks used a manner of speech or writing in their proses, that went by clauses, finishing in words of like tune, and might be by using like cases, tenses, and other points of consonance, which they called Omoioteleton, and is that wherein they nearest approached to our vulgar rhyme, and may thus be expressed.  
Weep creeping beseeching I wan,  
The love at length of Lady Lucian.  
Or thus if we speak in prose and not in metre.  
Mischances ought not to be lamented,  
But rather by wisdom in time prevented:  
For such mishaps as be remediless,  
To sorrow them it is but foolishness:  
Yet are we all so frail of nature,  
As to be grieved with every displeasure.  
The craking Scots as the Chronicle reports at a certain time made this bald rhyme upon the Englishmen.  
Long beards heartless,  
Painted hoods witless:  
Gay coats graceless,  
Make all England thriftless.  
Which is no perfect rhyme in deed, but clauses finishing in the self same tune: for a rhyme of good symphony should not conclude his concords with one & the same terminant syllable, as less, less, less, but with divers 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 been showed before in the book of proportions; yet many use it otherwise, neglecting the Poetical harmony and skill. And th'earl of Surrey with Sir Thomas Wyatt the most excellent makers of their time, more peradventure respecting the fitness and ponderosity of their words then the true cadence or symphony, were very licentious in this point. We call this figure following the original, the [like lose] alluding to th'Archers term who is not said to finish the feat of his shot before he give the lose, and deliver his arrow from his bow, in which respect we use to say mark the lose of a thing for mark the end of it.  
Ye do by another figure notably affect th'ear when ye make every 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.  
Time tried his truth his travails and his trust,  
And time to late tried his integrity.  
It is a figure much used by our common rhymers, and doth well if it be not too much used, for than it falleth into the vice which shallbe hereafter spoken of called Tautologia.  
Ye have another sort of speech in a manner defective because it wants good band or coupling, 
Asyndeton, or the Lose language.  and is the figure [Asyndeton] we call him [lose language] and doth not a little alter th'ear as thus.  
I saw it, I said it, I will swear it.  
Caesar the Dictator upon the victory he obtained against Pharnax king of Bithynia showing the celerity of his conquest, wrote home to the Senate in this tenor of speech no less swift and speedy than his victory.  
Veni, vidi, vici,  
I came, I saw, I overcame.  
Meaning thus I was no sooner come and beheld them but the victory fell on my side.  
The Prince of Orange for his devise of Arms in banner displayed against the Duke of Alva and the Spaniards in the Low-countries used the like manner of speech.  
Pro Rege, pro lege, pro grege,  
For the king, for the commons, for the country laws.  
It is a figure to be used when we will seem to make haste, or to be earnest, and these examples with a number more be spoken by the figure of [lose language.]  

Polisindeton, or the Couple clause.  Quite contrary to this ye have another manner of construction which they called [Polisindeton] we may call him the [couple clause] for that every clause is knit and coupled together with a conjunctive thus.  
And I saw it, and I say it and I  
Will swear it to be true.  
So might the Poesy of Caesar have been altered thus.  
I came, and I saw, and I overcame.  
One wrote these verses after the same sort.  
For in her mind no thought there is,  
But how she may be true iwis:  
And tenders thee and all thy heal,  
And wisheth both thy health and weal:  
And is thine own, and so she says,  
And cares for thee ten thousand ways.  
Ye have another manner of speech drawn out at length and going all after one tenure and with an imperfect sense till you come to the last word or verse which concludes the whole premises with a perfect sense & full period, 
Irmus, or the Long lose.  the Greeks call it Irmus, I call him the [long lose] thus appearing in a ditty of Sir Thomas Wyatt where he describes the divers distempers of his bed.  
The restless state renewer of my smart,  
The labours salve increasing my sorrow:  
The body's ease and troubles of my heart,  
Quietour of mind mine unquiet foe:  
Forgetter of pain remembrer of my woe,  
The place of sleep wherein I do but wake:  
Be sprent with tears my bed I thee forsake.  
Ye see here how ye can gather no perfection of sense in all this ditty till ye come to the last verse in these words my bed I thee forsake. And in another Sonnet of Petrarcha which was thus Englished by the same Sir Thomas Wyat.  
If weaker care if sudden pale colour,  
If many sighs with little speech to plain:  
Now joy now woe, if they my joys distain,  
For hope of small, if much to fear therefore,  
Be sign of love than do I love again.  
Here all the whole sense of the ditty is suspended till ye come to the last three words, then do I love again, which finisheth the song with a full and perfect sense.  
When ye will speak giving every person or thing besides his proper name a quality by way of addition whether it be of good or of bad it is a figurative speech of audible alteration, 
Epitheton, or the Qualifier.  so is it also of sense as to say.  
Fierce Achilles, wise Nestor wily Ulysses,  
Diana the chaste and thou lovely Venus:  
With thy blind boy that almost never misses,  
But hits our hearts when he levels at us.  
Or thus commending the Isle of great Britain.  
Albion hugest of Western islands all,  
Soil of sweet air and of good store:  
God send we see thy glory never fall,  
But rather daily to grow more and more.  
Or as we sang of our Sovereign Lady giving her these Attributes besides her proper name.  
Elizabeth regent of the great Britain I'll,  
Honour of all regents and of Queens.  
But if we speak thus not expressing her proper name Elizabeth, videl.  
The English Diana, the great Britton maid.  
Then is it not by Epitheton or figure of Attribution but by the figures Antonomasia, or Periphrasis.  
Ye have yet another manner of speech when ye will seem to make two of one not thereunto constrained, which therefore we call the figure of Twins, the Greeks Endiadis thus. 
Endiadis, or the Figure of Twins.   
Not you coy dame your lowrs nor your looks.  
For [your lowering looks.] And as one of our ordinary rhymers said.  
Of fortune nor her frowning face,  
I am nothing aghast.  
In stead, of [fortunes frowning face.] One praising the Neapolitans for good men at arms, said by the figure of Twins thus.  
A proud people and wise and valiant,  
Fiercely fight with horses and with barbs:  
By whose prows the Roman Prince did daunt,  
Wild Affricanes and the lawless Alarbes:  
The Nubiens marching with their armed carts,  
And slaying a far with venom and with darts.  
Where ye see this figure of Twins twice used, once when he said horses and barbs for barbd horses: again when he saith with venom and with darts for venomous darts.   

CHAP. XVI.  
Of the figures which we call Sensable, because they altar and affect the mind by alteration of sense, and first in single words.  
THe ear having received his due satisfaction by the auricular figures, now must the mind also be served, with his natural delight by figures sensible such as by alteration of intendmentes affect the courage, and give a good liking to the conceit. And first, single words have their sense and understanding altered and figured many ways, to wit, by transport, abuse, crosse-naming, new naming, change of name. This will seem very dark to you, unless it be otherwise explained more particularly: 
Metaphora, or the Figure of transport.  and first of Transport. There is a kind of wresting of a single word from his own right signification, to another not so natural, but yet of some affinity or conveniency with it, as to say, I cannot digest your unkind words, for I cannot take them in good part: or as the man of law said, I feel you not, for I understand not your case, because he had not his fee in his hand. Or as another said to a mouthy Advocate, why barkest thou at me so sore? Or to call the top of a tree, or of a hill, the crown of a tree or of a hill: for in deed crown is the highest ornament of a Prince's head, made like a close garland, or else the top of a man's head, where the hair winds about, and because such term is not applied naturally to a tree, or to a hill, but is transported from a man's head to a hill or tree, therefore it is called by metaphor, or the figure of transport. And three causes moves us to use this figure, one for necessity or want of a better word, thus: 
As the dry ground that thirsts after a shower  
Seems to rejoice when it is well iwet,  
And speedily brings forth both grass and flower,  
If lack of sun or season do not let.   
Here for want of an apt and more natural word to declare the dry temper of the earth, it is said to thirst & to rejoice, which is only proper to living creatures, and yet being so inverted, doth not so much swerver from the true sense, but that every man can easily conceive the meaning thereof.  
Again, we use it for pleasure and ornament of our speech, as thus in an Epitaph of our own making, to the honourable memory of a dear friend, Sir john Throgmorton, knight, justice of Chester, and a man of many commendable virtues.  
Whom virtue rerde, envy hath overthrown  
And lodged full low, under this marble stone:  
Ne never were his values so well known,  
Whilst he lived here, as now that he is gone.  
Here these words, reared, overthrown, and lodged, are inverted, & metaphorically applied, not upon necessity, but for ornament only, afterward again in these verses.  
No sun by day that ever saw him rest  
Free from the toils of his so busy charge,  
No night that harboured rancour in his breast,  
Nor merry mood, made reason run at large.  
In these verses the inversion or metaphor, lieth in these words, saw, harboured, run: which naturally are applied to living things, & not to insensible: as, the sun, or the night: & yet they approach so near, & so conveniently, as the speech is thereby made more commendable. Again, in more verses of the same Epitaph, thus.  
His head a source of gravity and sense,  
His memory a shop of civil art:  
His tongue a stream of sugared eloquence,  
Wisdom and meekness lay mingled in his heart,  
In which verses ye see that these words, source, shop, flood, sugared, are inverted from their own signification to another, not altogether so natural, but of much affinity with it.  
Then also do we it sometimes to enforce a sense and make the word more significative: as thus, 
I burn in love, I freeze in deadly hate  
I swim in hope, and sink in deep despair.   
These examples I have the willinger given you to set forth the nature and use of your figure metaphor, which of any other being choisly made, is the most commendable and most common.  

Catachresis, or the Figure of abuse  But if for lack of natural and proper term or word we take another, neither natural nor proper and do untruly apply it to the thing which we would seem to express, and without any just inconvenience, it is not then spoken by this figure Metaphor or of inversion as before, but by plain abuse, as he that bade his man go into his library and fet him his bow and arrows, for in deed there was never a book there to be found, or as one should in reproach say to a poor man, thou rascal knave, where rascal is properly the hunters term given to young dear, lean & out of season, and not to people: or as one said very prettily in this verse.  
I lent my love to loss, and gauged my life in vain.  
Whereas this word lent is properly of money or some such other thing, as men do commonly borrow, for use to be repaid again, and being applied to love is utterly abused, and yet very commendably spoken by virtue of this figure. For he that loveth and is not beloved again, hath no less wrong, than he that dareth and is never repaid.  

Metonimia, or the Misnamer.  Now doth this understanding or secret conceit reach many times to the only nomination of persons or things in their names, as of men, or mountains, seas, countries and such like, in which respect the wrong naming, or otherwise naming of them then is due, carrieth not only an alteration of sense but a necessity of intendment figuratively, as when we call love by the name of Venus, fleshly lust by the name of Cupid, because they were supposed by the ancient poets to be authors and kindlers of love and lust: Vulcan for fire, Ceres for bread: Bacchus for wine by the same reason; also if one should say to a skilful craftsman known for a glutton or common drunkard, that had spent all his goods on riot and delicate fare.  
Thy hands they made thee rich, thy palate made thee poor.  
It is meant, his travail and art made him wealthy, his riotous life had made him a beggar: and as one that boasted of his housekeeping, said that never a year passed over his head, that he drank not in his house every month four tons of beer, & one hogshead of wine, meaning not the casks or vessels, but that quantity which they contained. These and such other speeches, where ye take the name of the Author for the thing itself; or the thing containing, for that which is contained, & in many other cases do as it were wrong name the person or the thing. So nevertheless as it may be understood, 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 convenient 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 Spain, but the Western king, because his dominion lieth the furthest West of any Christian prince: and the French king the great valois, because so is the name of his house, or the Queen of England, The maiden Queen, for that is her highest peculiar among all the Queens of the world, or as we said in one of our Partheniades, the Bryton maid, because she is the most great and famous maiden of all Britain: thus, 
But in chaste style, am borne as I ween  
To blazon forth the Brytton maiden Queen.   
So did our forefathers call Henry the first, Beauclerke, Edmund Ironside, Richard coeur de lion: Edward the Confessor, and we of her Majesty Elisabeth the peaceable.  
Then also is the sense figurative when we devise a new name to any thing consonant, as near 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 money: & as the poet Virgil said of the sounding a trumpet, ta-ra-tant, taratantara, or as we give special names to the voices of dumb beasts, as to say, a horse neigheth, a lion brays, a swine grunts, a hen cackleth, a dog howls, and a hundredth more such new names as any man hath liberty to devise, so it be fittie for the thing which he covets to express.  

Epitheton. or the Quallifier otherwise the figure of Attribation.  Your Epitheton or qualifier, whereof we spoke before, placing him among the figures auricular, now because he serves also to alter and enforce the sense, 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 unto, & not disagreeable or repugnant, as one that said: dark disdain, and miserable pride, very absurdly, for disdain or disdained things cannot be said dark, but rather bright and clear, because they be beholden and much looked upon, and pride is rather envied then pitied or miserable, unless it be in Christian charity, which helpeth not the term in this case. Some of our vulgar writers take great pleasure in giving Epithets and do it almost to every word which may receive them, and should not be so, yea though they were never so proper and apt, for sometimes words suffered to go single, do give greater sense and grace than words qualified by attributions do.  
But the sense is much altered & the hearers conceit strangely 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 them to use one nearer hand to express the matter aswell & plainer. And it seemeth the deviser of this figure, had a desire to please women rather than men: for we use to say by manner of Proverb: things farrefet and dear bought are good for Ladies: so in this manner of speech we use it, leaping over the heads of a great many words, we take one that is furthest off, to utter our matter by: as Medea cursing her first acquaintance with prince jason, who had very unkindly forsaken her, said: 
Woe worth the mountain that the mast bore  
Which was the first causer of all my care.   
Where she might aswell have said, woe worth our first meeting, or woe worth the time that jason arrived with his ship at my father's city in Colchos, when he took me away with him, & not so far off as to curse the mountain that bore the pine-tree, that made the mast, that bore the sails, that the ship sailed with, which carried her away. A pleasant Gentleman came into a Lady's nursery, and saw her for her own pleasure rocking of her young child in the cradle, and said to her: 
I speak it Madam without any mock,  
Many a such cradle may I see you rock.   
God's passion hourson said she, would thou have me bear more children yet, no Madam quoth the Gentleman, but I would have you live long, that ye might the better pleasure your friends, for his meaning was that as every cradle signified a new borne child, & every child the leisure of one years birth, & many years a long life: so by wishing her to rock many cradles of her own, he wished her long life. Virgil said: 
Post multas mea regna videns mirabor aristas.   
Thus in English.  
After many a stubble shall I come  
And wonder at the sight of my kingdom.  
By stubble the Poet understood years, for harvests come but once every year, at least ways with us in Europe. This is spoken by the figure of far-fet. Metalepsis.  
And one notable mean to affect the mind, 
Emphasis. or the Renforcer.  is to enforce the sense of any thing by a word of more than ordinary efficacy, and nevertheless is not apparent, but as it were, secretly implied, as he that said thus of a fair Lady.  
O rare beauty, o grace, and courtesy.  
And by a very evil man thus.  
O sin itself, not wretch, but wretchedness.  
Whereas if he had said thus, O gracious, courteous and beautiful woman: and, O sinful and wretchedman, it had been all to one effect, yet not with such force and efficacy, to speak by the denominative, as by the thing itself.  
As by the former figure we use to enforce our sense, so by another we temper our sense with words of such moderation, as in appearance it abateth it but not in deed, and is by the figure Liptote, which therefore I call the Moderator, 
Liptote. or the Moderator.  and becomes us many times better to speak in that sort qualified, than if we spoke it by more forcible terms, and nevertheless is equipolent in sense, thus.  
I know you hate me not, nor wish me any ill.  
Meaning in deed that he loved him very well and dearly, and yet the words do not express so much, though they purport so much. Or if you would say, I am not ignorant, for I know well enough. Such a man is no fool, meaning in deed that he is a very wise man.  

Paradiastole, or the Curry favel.  But if such moderation of words tend to flattery, or soothing, or excusing, it is by the figure Paradiastole, which therefore nothing improperly we call the Curry-favell, as when we make the best of a bad thing, or turn a signification to the more plausible sense: as, to call an unthrift, a liberal Gentleman: the foolish-hardy, valiant or courageous: the niggard, thrifty: a great riot, or outrage, an youthful prank, and such like terms: 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 used by Courtiers.  

Meiosis, or the Disabler.  But if you diminish and abbase a thing by way of spite or malice, as it were to deprave it, such speech is by the figure Meiosis or the disabler spoken of hereafter in the place of sententious figures.  
A great mountain as big as a molehill,  
A heavy burden pardie, as a pound of feathers.  

Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.  But if ye abase your thing or matter by ignorance or error in the choice of your word, then is it by vicious manner of speech called Tapmosis, whereof ye shall have examples in the chapter of vices hereafter following.  

Synecdoche, or the Figure of quick conceit.  Then again if we use such a word (as many times we do) by which we drive the hearer to conceive more or less or beyond or otherwise then the letter expresseth, and it be not by virtue of the former figures Metaphor and Abase and the rest, the Greeks than call it Synecdoche, the Latins sub intellectio or understanding, for by part we are enforced to understand 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 manner of contrariety to the word which is spoken, aliudex alio, which because it seemeth to ask a good, quick, and pregnant capacity, and is not for an ordinary or dull wit so to do, I chose to call him the figure not only of conceit after the Greek original, but also of quick conceit. As for example we will give none because we will speak of him again in another place, where he is ranged among the figures sensable appertaining to clauses.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
Of sensable figures altering and affecting the mind by alteration of sense or intendments in whole clauses or speeches.  
AS by the last remembered figures the sense of single words is altered, so by these that follow is that of whole and entire speech: and first by the Courtly figure Allegoria, which is when we speak one thing and think another, and that our words and our meanings meet not. The use of this figure is so large, and his virtue of so great efficacy as it is supposed no man can pleasantly utter and persuade without it, but in effect is sure never or very seldom to thrive and prosper in the world, that cannot skilfully put in ure, in somuch as not only every common Courtier, but also the gravest Counsellor, yea and the most noble and wisest Prince of them all are many times enforced to use it, by example (say they) of the great Emperor who had it usually in his mouth to say, Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare. Of this figure therefore which for his duplicity we call the figure of [false semblant or dissimulation] we will speak first as of the chief ringleader and captain of all other figures, either in the Poetical or oratory science.  
And ye shall know that we may dissemble, 
Allegoria, or the Figure of false semblant.  I mean speak otherwise then we think, in earnest aswell as in sport, under covert and dark terms, and in learned and apparent speeches, in short sentences, and by long ambage and circumstance of words, and finally aswell when we lie as when we tell truth. To be short every speech wrested from his own natural signification to another not altogether so natural is a kind of dissimulation, because the words bear contrary countenance to th'intent. But properly & in his principal virtue Allegoria is when we do speak in sense translative and wrested from the own signification, nevertheless applied to another not altogether contrary, but having much conveniency with it as before we said of the metaphor: as for example if we should call the common wealth, a ship; the Prince a Pilot, the counsellors mariners, the storms wars, the calm and [haven] peace, this is spoken all in allegory: and because such inversion of sense in one single word is by the figure Metaphor, of whom we spoke before, and this manner of inversion extending to whole and large speeches, it maketh the figure allegory to be called a long and perpetual Metaphor. A noble man after a whole years absence from his lady, sent to know how she did, and whether she remained affected toward him as she was when he left her.  
Lovely Lady I long full sore to hear,  
If ye remain the same, I left you the last year.  
To whom she answered in allegory other two verses: 
My loving Lord I will well that ye witted,  
The thread is spon, that never shall untwist.   
Meaning, that her love was so steadfast and constant toward him as no time or occasion could alter it. Virgil in his shepeherdly poems called Eglogues used as rustical but fit allegory for the purpose thus: 
Claudite iam rivos pueri sat prata biberunt.   
Which I English thus: 
Stop up your streams (my lads) the medes have drunk their fill.   
As much to say, leave of now, ye have talked of the matter enough: for the shepherds guise in many places is by opening certain sluices to water their pastures, so as when they are wet enough they shut them again: this application is full Allegoricke.  
Ye have another manner of Allegory not full, but mixed, as he that wrote thus: 
The clouds of care have coured all my cost,  
The storms of strife, do threaten to appear:  
The waves of woe, wherein my ship is toast.  
Have broke the banks, where lay my life so dear.  
Chips of ill chance, are fallen amidst my choice,  
To mar the mind that meant for to rejoice.   
I call him not a full Allegory, but mixed, because he discovers withal what the cloud, storm, wave, and the rest are, which in a full allegory should not be discovered, but left at large to the reader's judgement and conjecture.  
We dissemble again under covert and dark speeches, when we speak by way of riddle (Enigma) of which the sense can hardly be picked out, but by the parties own assoil, as he that said: 
Enigma. or the Riddle.  
It is my mother well I wots,  
And yet the daughter that I begot.   
Meaning it by the ise which is made of frozen water, the same being melted by the sun or fire, makes water again.  
My mother had an old woman in her nursery, who in the winter nights would put us forth many pretty riddles, whereof this is one: 
I have a thing and rough it is  
And in the midst a hole I wis:  
There came a young man with his gin,  
And he put it a handful in.   
The good old Gentlewoman would tell us that were children how it was meant by a furred gloove. Some other naughty body would peradventure have construed it not half so mannerly. The riddle is pretty but that it holds too much of the Cachemphaton or foul speech and may be drawn to a reprobate sense.  
We dissemble after a sort, when we speak by common proverbs, 
Parimia, or Proverb.  or, as we use to call them, old said saws, as thus: 
As the old cock crows so doth the chick:  
A bad Cook that cannot his own fingers lick.   
Meaning by the first, that the young learn by the old, either to be good or evil in their behaviours: by the second, that he is not to be counted a wise man, who being in authority, and having the administration of many good and great things, will not serve his own turn and his friends whilst he may, & many such proverbial speeches: as, Totnesse is turned French, for a strange alteration: Skarborow warning, for a sudden commandment, allowing no respect or delay to bethink a man of his business. Note nevertheless a diversity, for the two last examples be proverbs, the two first proverbial speeches.  
Ye do likewise dissemble, when ye speak in derision or mockery, & that may be many ways: as sometime in sport, sometime in earnest, and privily, and apertly, and pleasantly, and bitterly: 
Ironia, or the Dry mock.  but first by the figure Ironia, which we call the dry mock: as he that said to a bragging Ruffian, that threatened he would kill and slay, no doubt you are a good man of your hands: or, as it was said by a French king, to one that prayed his reward, showing how he had been cut in the face at a certain battle fought in his service: ye may see, quoth the king, what it is to run away & look backwards. And as Alphonso king of Naples, said to one that proffered to take his ring when he washed before dinner, this will serve another well: meaning that the Gentlem● had another time taken than, & because the king forgot to ask for them, never restored his ring again.  

Sarcasmus. or the Bitter taunt.  Or when we deride with a certain severity, we may call it the bitter taunt [Sarcasmus] as Charles the fift Emperor answered the Duke of Arskot, beseeching him recompense of service done at the siege of Renty, against Henry the French king, where the Duke was taken prisoner, and afterward escaped clad like a Collier. Thou wert taken, quoth the Emperor, like a coward, and scapedst like a Collier, wherefore get thee home and live upon thine own. Or as king Henry the eight said to one of his privy chamber, who sued for Sir Anthony Rowse, a knight of Norfolk, that his Majesty would be good unto him, for that he was an ill beggar. Quoth the king again, if he be ashamed to beg, we are ashamed to give. Or as Charles the fift Emperor, having taken in battle john Fredrick Duke of Saxon, with the Landgrave of Hessen and others: this Duke being a man of monstrous bigness and corpulence, after the Emperor had seen the prisoners, said to those that were about him, I have gone a hunting many times, yet never took I such a swine before.  

Asteismus. or the Merry scoff. otherwise The civil jest.  Or when we speak by manner of pleasantery, or merry scoff, that is, by a kind of mock, whereof the sense is farrefet, & without any gall or offence. The Greeks call it [Asteismus] we may term it the civil jest, because it is a mirth very full of civility, and such as the most civil men do use. As Cato said to one that had given him a good knock on the head with a long piece of timber he bore on his shoulder, and then bade him beware: what (quoth Cato) wilt thou strike me again? for ye know, a warning should be given before a man have received harm, and not after. And as king Edward the sixth, being of young years, but old in wit, said to one of his privy chamber, who sued for a pardon for one that was condemned for a robbery, telling the king that it was but a small trifle, not past sixteen shillings matter which he had taken: quoth the king again, but I warrant you the fellow was sorry it had not been sixteen pound: meaning how the malefactor's intent was as evil in that trifle, as if it had been a greater sum of money. In these examples if ye mark there is no grief or offence ministered as in those other before, and yet are very witty, and spoken in plain derision.  
The Emperor Charles the fift was a man of very few words, and delighted little in talk. His brother king Ferdinando being a man of more pleasant discourse, sitting at the table with him▪ said, I pray your Majesty be not so silent, but let us talk a little. What need that brother, quoth the Emperor, since you have words enough for us both.  
Or when we give a mock with a scornful countenance as in some smiling sort looking aside or by drawing the lip awry, or shrinking up the nose; the Greeks called it Micterismus, 
Micterismus. or the Fleering frump.  we may term it a fleering frump, as he that said to one whose words he believed not, no doubt Sir of that. This fleering frump is one of the Courtly graces of hicke the scorner.  
Or when we deride by plain and flat contradiction, 
Antiphrasis. or the Broad flout.  as he that saw a dwarf go in the street said to his companion that walked with him: See yonder giant: and to a Negro or woman blacke-moore, in good sooth year a fair one, we may call it the broad flout.  
Or when ye give a mock under smooth and lowly words as he that hard one call him all to nought and say, thou art sure to be hanged ere thou die: quoth th'other very soberly. Sir I know your mastership speaks but in jest, 
Charientismus. or the Privy nip.  the Greeks call it (charientismus) we may call it the privy nip, or a mild and appeasing mockery: all these be soldiers to the figure allegoria and fight under the banner of dissimulation.  
Nevertheless ye have yet two or three other figures that smatch a spice of the same false semblant, 
Hyperbole. or the Over reacher, otherwise called the loud liar.  but in another sort and manner of phrase, whereof one is when we speak in the superlative and beyond the limits of credit, that is by the figure which the Greeks call Hyperbole, the Latins Dementiens or the lying figure. I for his immoderate excess call him the over reacher right with his original or [loud liar] & me thinks not amiss: now when I speak that which neither I myself think to be true, nor would have any other body believe, it must needs be a great dissimulation, because I mean nothing less than that I speak, and this manner of speech is used, when either we would greatly advance or greatly abase the reputation of any thing or person, and must be used very discreetly, or else it will seem odious, for although a praise or other report may be allowed beyond credit, it may not be beyond all measure, specially in the proseman, as he that was speaker in a Parliament of king Henry the eights reign, in his Oration which ye know is of ordinary to be made before the Prince at the first assembly of both houses, old seem to praise his Majesty thus. What should I go about to recite your majesties innumerable virtues, even as much as if I took upon me to number the stars of the sky, or to tell the sands of the sea. This Hyperbole was both ultra fidem and also ultra modum, and therefore of a grave and wise Counsellor made the speaker to be accounted a gross flattering fool: peradventure if he had used it thus, it had been better and nevertheless a lie too, but a more moderate lie and no less to the purpose of the king's commendation, thus. I am not able with any words sufficiently to express your majesties regal virtues, your kingly merits also towards us your people and realm are so exceeding many, as your praises therefore are infinite, your honour and renown everlasting: And yet all this if we shall measure it by the rule of exact verity, is but an untruth, yet a more cleanly commendation than was master Speakers. Nevertheless as I said before if we fall a praising, specially of our mistress' virtue, beauty, or other good parts, we be allowed now and then to overreach a little by way of comparison as he that said thus in praise of his Lady.  
Give place ye lovers here before,  
That spent your boasts and brags in vain:  
My Lady's beauty passeth more,  
The best of your I dare well sayne:  
Then doth the sun the candle light,  
Or brightest day the darkest night.  
And as a certain noble Gentlewoman lamenting at the unkindness of her lover said very prettily in this figure.  
But since it will no better be,  
My tears shall never blind:  
To moist the earth in such degree,  
That I may drown therein:  
That by my death all men may say,  
Lo weemen are as true as they.  
Then have ye the figure Periphrasis, holding somewhat of the dissembler, 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 express that thing which we desire to have known, but do chose rather to do it by many words, as we ourselves wrote of our Sovereign Lady thus: 
Whom Princes serve, and Realms obey,  
And greatest of Bryton kings begot:  
She came abroad even yesterday,  
When such as saw her, knew her not.   
And the rest that followeth, meaning her majesties person, which we would seem to hide leaving her name unspoken, to the intent the reader should guess at it: nevertheless upon the matter did so manifestly disclose it, as any simple judgement might easily perceive by whom it was meant, that is by Lady Elizabeth, Queen of England and daughter to king Henry the eight, and therein resteth the dissimulation. It is one of the gallantest figures among the poets so it be used discreetly and in his right kind, but many of these makers that be not half their crafts masters, do very often abuse it and also many ways. For if the thing or person they go about to describe by circumstance, be by the writer's improvidence otherwise bewrayed, it looseth the grace of a figure, as he that said: 
The tenth of March when Aries received,  
Dan Phoebus' rays into his horned head.   
Intending to describe the spring of the year, which every man knoweth of himself, 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 year which should have been covertly disclosed by ambage, was by and by blabbed out by naming the day of the month, & so the purpose of the figure disappointed, peradventure it had been better to have said thus: 
The month and day when Aries received,  
Dan Phoebus' rays into his horned head.   
For now there remaineth for the Reader somewhat to study and guess upon, and yet the spring time to the learned judgement sufficiently expressed.  
The Noble Earl of Surrey wrote thus: 
In winter's just return, when Boreas 'gan his reign,  
And every tree unclothed him fast as nature taught them plain.   
I would feign learn of some good maker, whether the Earl spoke this in figure of Periphrase or not, for mine own opinion I think that if he meant to describe the winter season, he would not have disclosed it so broadly, as to say winter at the first word, for that had been against the rules of art, and without any good judgement: which in so learned & excellent a parsonage we ought not to suspect, we say therefore that for winter it is no Periphrase but language at large: we say for all that, having regard to the second verse that followeth it is a Periphrase, seeming that thereby he intended to show in what part of the winter his loves gave him anguish, that is in the time which we call the fall of the leaf, which gins in the month of October, and stands very well with the figure to be uttered in that sort notwithstanding winter be named before, for winter hath many parts: such namely as do not shake of the leaf, nor unclothe the trees as here is mentioned: thus may ye judge as I do, that this noble Earl wrote excellently well and to purpose. Moreover, when a maker will seem to use circumlocution to set forth any thing pleasantly and figuratively, yet no less plain to a ripe reader, then if it were named expressly, and when all is done, no man can perceive it to be the thing intended. This is a foul oversight in any writer as did a good fellow, who weening to show his cunning, would needs by periphrase express the realm of Scotland in no less than eight verses, and when he had said all, no man could imagine it to be spoken of Scotland: and did beside many other faults in his verse, so deadly bely the matter by his description, as it would pity any good maker to hear it.  

Synecdoche. or the Figure of quick conceit.  Now for the shutting up of this Chapter, will I remember you farther of that manner of speech which the Greeks call Synecdoche, and we the figure of [quick conceit] who for the reasons before alleged, may be put under the speeches allegorical, because of the darkness and duplicity of his sense: as when one would tell me how the French king was overthrown at Saint Quintans, I am enforced to think that it was not the king himself in person, but the Constable of France with the French kings power. Or if one would say, the town of Andwerpe were famished, it is not so to be taken, but of the people of the town of Andwerp, and this conceit being drawn aside, and (as it were) from one thing to another, it encombers the mind with a certain 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 herself unready. Mistress will ye give me leave to unlace your petticoat, meaning (perchance) the other thing that might follow such unlasing. In the old time, whosoever was allowed to undo his Lady's girdle, he might lie with her all night: wherefore, the taking of a woman's maidenhead away, was said to undo her girdle. Virgineam dissoluit zonam, saith the Poet, conceiving out of a thing precedent, a thing subsequent. This may suffice for the knowledge of this figure [quick conceit.]   

CHAP. XIX.  
Of Figures sententious, otherwise called Rhetorical.  
NOw if our presupposal be true, that the Poet is of all other the most ancient Orator, as he that by good & pleasant persuasions first reduced the wild and beastly people into public societies and civility of life, insinuating unto them, under fictions with sweet and coloured speeches, many wholesome lessons and doctrines, than no doubt there is nothing so fit for him, as to be furnished with all the figures that be Rhetorical, and such as do most beautify language with eloquence & sententiousnes. Therefore, since we have already allowed to our maker his auricular figures, and also his sensable, by which all the words and clauses of his metres are made as well tunable to the ear, as stirring to the mind, we are now by order to bestow upon him those other figures which may execute both offices, and all at once to beautify and give sense and sententiousnes to the whole language at large. So as if we should entreat our maker to play also the Orator, and ●●●ther it be to plead, or to praise, or to advise, that in all three cases he may utter, and also persuade both copiously and vehemently.  
And your figures rhethoricall, besides their remembered ordinary virtues, that is, sententiousnes, & copious amplification, or enlargement of language, do also contain a certain sweet and melodious manner of speech, in which respect, they may, after a sort, be said auricular: because the ear is no less ravished with their currant tune, than the mind is with their sententiousnes. For the ear is properly but an instrument of conveyance for the mind, to apprehend the sense by the sound. And our speech is made melodious or harmonical, not only by strained tunes, as those of Music, but also by choice of smooth words: and thus, or thus, marshalling them in their comeliest construction and order, and aswell by sometimes sparing, sometimes spending them more or less liberally, and carrying or transporting of them farther off or nearer, setting them with sundry relations, and variable forms, in the ministry and use of words, do breed no little alteration in man. For to say truly, what else is man but his mind? which, whosoever have skill to compass, and make yielding and flexible, what may not he command the body to perform? He therefore that hath vanquished the mind of man, hath made the greatest and most glorious conquest. But the mind is not assailable unless it be by sensible approaches, 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 ear, maketh your information no less plausible to the mind than to the ear: no though you filled them with never so much sense and sententiousnes. Then also must the whole tale (if it tend to persuasion) bear his just and reasonable measure, being rather with the largest, than with the scarcest. For like as one or two drops of water pierce not the flint stone, but many and often droppings do: so cannot a few words (be they never so pithy or sententious) in all cases and to all manner of minds, make so deep an impression, as a more multitude of words to the purpose discreetly, and without superfluity uttered: the mind being no less vanquished with large load of speech, than the limbs are with heavy burden. Sweetness of speech, sentence, and amplification, are therefore necessary 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 ear and also the mind of the hearer, and therefore is counted a very brave figure both with the Poets and rhetoriciens, and this repetition may be in seven sorts.  
Repetition in the first degree we call the figure of Report according to the Greek original, 
Anaphora, or the Figure of Report.  and is when we make one word begin, and as they are wont to say, lead the dance to many verses in suit, as thus.  
To think on death it is a misery,  
To think on life it is a vanity:  
To think on the world verily it is,  
To think that hear man hath no perfect bliss.  
And this written by Sir Walter Raleigh of his greatest mistress in most excellent verses.  
In vain mine eyes in vain you wast your tears,  
In vain my sighs the smokes of my despairs:  
In vain you search th'earth and heavens above,  
In vain ye seek, for fortune keeps my love.  
Or as the buffoon in our interlude called Lusty London said very knavishly and like himself.  
Many a fair lass in London town,  
Many a bawdy basket borne up and down:  
Many a broker in a third bare gown.  
Many a bankrowte scarce worth a crown.  
In London.  
Ye have another sort of repetition quite contrary to the former when ye make one word finish many verses in suit, 
Antistrophe, or the Counter turn.  and that which is harder, to finish many clauses in the midst of your verses or ditty (for to make them finish the verse in our vulgar it should hinder the rhyme) and because I do find few of our English makers use this figure, I have set you down two little ditties which ourselves in our younger years played upon the Antistrophe, for so is the figures name in Greek: one upon the mutable love of a Lady, another upon the meritorious love of Christ our Saviour, thus.  
Her lowly looks, that gave life to my love,  
With spiteful speech, curstness and cruelty:  
She killed my love, let her rigour remove,  
Her cheerful lights and speeches of pity  
Revive my love: anon with great disdain,  
She shuns my love, and after by a train  
She seeks my love, and saith she loves me most,  
But seeing her love, so lightly won and lost:  
I longed not for her love, for well I thought,  
Firm is the love, if it be as it ought.  
The second upon the merits of Christ's passion toward mankind, thus, 
Our Christ the son of God, chief author of all good,  
Was he by his allmight, that first created man:  
And with the costly price, of his most precious blood,  
He that redeemed man: and by his instance wan  
Grace in the sight of God, his only father dear,  
And reconciled man: and to make man his peer  
Made himself very man: brief to conclude the case,  
This Christ both God and man, he all and only is:  
The man brings man to God and to all heavens bliss.   
The Greeks call this figure Antistrophe, the Latins, conversio, I following the original call him the counterturne, because he turns counter in the midst of every metre.  
Take me the two former figures and put them into one, and it is that which the Greeks call symploche, the Latins complexio, or conduplicatio, 
Symploche, or the figure of reply.  and is a manner of repetition, when one and the self word doth begin and end many verses in suit & so wraps up both the former figures in one, as he that sportingly complained of his untrusty mistress, thus.  
Who made me shent for her loves sake?  
Mine own mistress.  
Who would not seem my part to take,  
Mine own mistress.  
What made me first so well content  
Her courtesy.  
What makes me now so sore repent  
Her cruelty.  
The Greeks name this figure Symploche, the Latins Complexio, perchance for that he seems to hold in and to wrap up the verses by reduplication, so as nothing can fall out. I had rather call him the figure of reply.  
Ye have another sort of repetition when with the word by which you finish your verse, 
Anadiplosis, or the Redouble.  ye begin the next verse with the same, as thus: 
Comfort it is for man to have a wife,  
Wife chaste, and wise, and lowly all her life.   
Or thus: 
Your beauty was the cause of my first love,  
love while I live, that I may sore repent.   
The Greeks call this figure Anadiplosis, I call him the Redouble as the original bears.  
Ye have an other sort of repetition, 
Epanalepsis, or the Echo sound. otherwise, the slow return.  when ye make one word both begin and end your verse, which therefore I call the slow return, otherwise the Echo sound, as thus: 
Much must he be beloved, that loveth much,  
Fear many must he needs, whom many fear.   
Unless I called him the echo sound, I could not tell what name to give him, unless it were the slow return.  
Ye have 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.  
It was Marine, marine that wrought mine woe.   
And this bemoaning the departure of a dear friend.  
The chiefest staff of mine assured stay,  
With no small grief, is gone, is gone away.  
And that of Sir Walter Raleighs very sweet.  
With wisdoms eyes had but blind fortune seen,  
Than had my love, my love for ever been.  
The Greeks call him Epizeuxis, the Latins Subiunctio, we may call him the vnderlay, me thinks if we regard his manner of iteration, & would departed from the original, we might very properly, in our vulgar and for pleasure call him the cuckowspell, for right as the cuckoo repeats his lay, which is but one manner of note, and doth not insert any other tune betwixt, and sometimes for haste stammers out two or three of them one immediately after another, as cuck, cuck, cuckoo, so doth the figure Epizeuxis in the former verses, marine, marine, without any intermission at all.  

Ploche, or the Doubler.  Yet have ye one sort of repetition, which we call the doubler, and is as the next before, a speedy iteration of one word, but with some little intermission by inserting one or two words between, as in a most excellent ditty written by Sir Walter Raleigh these two closing verses: 
Yet when I saw myself to you was true,  
I loved myself, because myself loved you.   
And this spoken in common Proverb.  
An ape will be an ape, by kind as they say,  
Though that ye clad him all in purple array.  
Or as we once sported upon a fellows name who was called Woodcock, and for an ill part he had played entreated favour by his friend.  
I pray you entreat no more for the man,  
Woodcock will be a woodcock do what ye can.  
Now also be there many other sorts of repetition if a man would use them, but are nothing commendable, and therefore are not observed in good poesy, as a vulgar rhymer who doubled one word in the end of every verse, thus: 
adieu, adieu,  
my face, my face.  And an other that did the like in the beginning of his verse, thus: 
To love him and love him, as sinners should do.   
These repetitions be not figurative but fantastical, for a figure is ever used to a purpose, either of beauty or of efficacy: and these last recited be to no purpose, for neither can ye say that it urges affection, nor that it beautifieth or enforceth the sense, nor hath any other subtility in it, and therefore is a very foolish impertinency of speech, and not a figure.  

Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer.  Ye have a figure by which ye play with a couple of words or names much resembling, and because the one seems to answer th'other by manner of illusion, and doth, as it were, neck him, I call him the Nicknamer. If any other man can give him a fit English name, I will not be angry, but I am sure mine is very near the original sense of Prosonomasia, and is rather a byname given in sport, than a surname given 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 own name, Caldius Biberius Mero, in stead of Claudius Tiberius Nero: and so a jesting friar that wrote against Erasmus, called him by resemblance to his own name, Errans mus, and are maintained by this figure Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer. But every name given in jest 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 between words of another nature, and not upon men's names, yet doth the Poet or maker find pretty sport to play with them in his verse, specially the Comical Poet and the Epigrammatist. Sir Philip Sidney in a ditty played very prettily with these two words, Love and live, thus.  
And all my life I will confess,  
The less I love, I live the less.  
And we in our Interlude called the wooer, played with these two words, lubber and lover, thus, the country clown came & wooed a young maid of the City, and being aggrieved to come so oft, and not to have his answer, said to the old nurse very impatiently.  
Iche pray you good mother tell our young dame, 
Wooer.   
Whence I am come and what is my name,  
I cannot come a wooing every day.  
Quoth the nurse.  
They be lubbers not lovers that so use to say. 
Nurse.   
Or as one replied to his mistress charging him with some disloyalty towards her.  
Prove me madame ere ye fall to reprove,  
Meek minds should rather excuse than accuse.  
Here the words prove and reprove, excuse and accuse, do pleasantly encounter, and (as it were) mock one another by their much resemblance: and this is by the figure Prosonomatia, as well as if they were men's proper names, alluding to each other.  
Then have ye a figure which the Latins call Traductio, and I the tranlacer: 
Traductio, or the Tranlacer.  which is when ye turn and tranlace a word into many sundry shapes as the Tailor doth his garment, & after that sort do play with him in your ditty: as thus, 
Who lives in love his life is full of fears,  
To lose his love, livelihood or liberty  
But lively spirits that young and reckless be,  
Think that there is no living like to theirs.   
Or as one who much gloried in his own wit, whom Persius taxed in a verse very pithily and pleasantly, thus.  
Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scire, hoc sciat alter.  
Which I have turned into English, not so briefly, but more at large of purpose the better to declare the nature of the figure: as thus, 
Thou weenest thy wit nought worth if other weet it not  
As well as thou thyself, but o thing well I wot,  
Who so in earnest weens, he doth in mine advise,  
Show himself witless, or more witty than wise.   
Here ye see how in the former rhyme this word life is tranlaced into live, living, lively, livelihood: & in the latter rhyme this word wit is translated into weete, ween, wot, witless, witty & wise: which come all from one original.  
Ye have a figurative speech which the Greeks call Antipophora, I name him the response, and is when we will seem to ask a question to th'intent we will answer it ourselves, 
Antipophora, or Figure of response.  and is a figure of argument and also of amplification. Of argument, because proponing such matter as our adversary might object and then to answer it ourselves, we do unfurnish and prevent him of such help as he would otherwise have used for himself: then because such objection and answer spend much language it serves as well to amplify and enlarge our tale. Thus for example.  
wily worldling come tell me I thee pray,  
Wherein hopest thou, that makes thee so to swell?  
Riches? alack it tarries not a day,  
But where fortune the fickle list to devil▪  
In thy children? how hardly shalt thou find,  
Them all at once, good and thrifty and kind:  
Thy wife? o fair but frail metal to trust,  
Servants? what thieves? what treachours and injust?  
Honour perchance? it rests in other men:  
Glory? a smoke: but wherein hopest thou then?  
In God's justice? and by what merit tell?  
In his mercy? o now thou speakest well,  
But thy lewd life hath lost his love and grace,  
Daunting all hope to put despair in place.  
We read that Crates the Philosopher Cynic in respect of the manifold discommodities of man's life, held opinion that it was best for man never to have been borne or soon after to die, [Optimum non nasci vel citò mori] of whom certain verses are left written in Greek which I have Englished, thus.  
What life is the liefest? the needy is full of woe and awe,  
The wealthy full of brawl and brabbles of the law:  
To be a married man? how much art thou beguiled,  
Seeking thy rest by cark, for household wife and child:  
To till it is a toil, to graze some honest gain,  
But such as gotten is with great hazard and pain:  
The sailor of his ship, the merchant of his ware,  
The soldier in arms, how full of dread and care?  
A shrewd wife brings thee bate, wive not and never thrive,  
Children a charge, childless the greatest lack alive:  
Youth witless is and frail, age sickly and forlorn,  
Then better to die soon, or never to be borne.  
Metrodorus the Philosopher Stoic was of a contrary opinion reversing all the former suppositions against Crates, thus.  
What life list ye to lead? in good City and town  
Is won both wit and wealth, Court gets us great renown:  
Country keeps us in heal, and quietness of mind,  
Where wholesome airs and exercise and pretty sports we find:  
Traffic it turns to gain, by land and eke by seas,  
The land-borne lives safe, the foreign at his ease:  
householder hath his home, the rogue rooms with delight,  
And makes more, merry meals, then doth the Lordly wight:  
Wed and thou hast a bed, of solace and of joy,  
Wed not and have a bed, of rest without annoy:  
The settled love is safe, sweet is the love at large,  
Children they are a store, no children are no charge,  
Lusty and gay is youth, old age honoured and wise:  
Then not to die or be unborn, is best in mine advise.  
Edward Earl of Oxford a most noble & learned Gentleman made in this figure of response an emble of desire otherwise called Cupid which for his excellency and wit, I set down some part of the verses, for example.  
When wert thou borne desire?  
In pomp and prime of May,  
By whom sweet boy wert thou begot?  
By good conceit men say,  
Tell me who was thy nurse?  
Fresh youth in sugared joy.  
What was thy meat and daily food?  
Sad sighs with great annoy.  
What hadst thou then to drink?  
Unfeigned lovers tears.  
What cradle wert thou rocked in?  
In hope devoid of fears.  

Syneciosis, or the Cross copling.  Ye have another figure which me thinks may well be called (not much swerving from his original in sense) the Crosse-couple, because it takes me two contrary words, and tieth them as it were in a pair of couples, and so makes them agree like good fellows, as I saw once in France a wolf coupled with a mastiff, and a fox with a hound. Thus it is.  
The niggards fault and the unthrifts is all one,  
For neither of them both knoweth how to use his own.  
Or thus.  
The covetous miser, of all his goods ill got,  
Aswell wants that he hath, as that he hath not.  
In this figure of the Crosse-couple we wrote for a forlorn lover complaining of his mistress cruelty these verses among other.  
Thus for your sake I daily die,  
And do but seem to live in deed:  
Thus is my bliss but misery,  
My lucre loss without your meed.  
Ye have another figure which by his nature we may call the Rebound, 
Atanaclasis. or the Rebound.  alluding to the tennis ball which being smitten with the racket reboundes back again, and where the last figure before played with two words somewhat like, this playeth with one word written all alike but carrying divers senses as thus. 
The maid that soon married is, soon marred is.  Or thus better because married & marred be different in one letter.  
To pray for you ever I cannot refuse,  
To pray upon you I should you much abuse.  
Or as we once sported upon a country fellow who came to run for the best game, and was by his occupation a dyer and had very big swelling legs.  
He is but course to run a course,  
Whose shanks are bigger than his thy:  
Yet is his luck a little worse,  
That often dies before he die.  
Where ye see this word course and die, used in divers senses, one giving the Rebound upon th'other.  
Ye have a figure which as well by his Greek and Latin originals, & also by allusion to the manner of a man's gate or going may be called the marching figure, for after the first step all the rest proceed by double the space, and so in our speech one word proceeds double to the first that was spoken, and goeth as it were by strides or paces: it may aswell be called the climbing figure, 
Clymax. or the Marching figure.  for Clymax is as much to say as a ladder, as in one of our Epitaphs showing how a very mean man by his wisdom and good fortune came to great estate and dignity.  
His virtue made him wise, his wisdom brought him wealth,  
His wealth won many friends, his friends made much supply:  
Of aids in weal and woe in sickness and in health,  
Thus came he from a low, to sit in seat so high.  
Or as Ihean de Mehune the French Poet.  
Peace makes plenty, plenty makes pride,  
Pride breeds quarrel, and quarrel brings war:  
War brings spoil, and spoil poverty,  
Poverty patience, and patience peace:  
So peace brings war, and war brings peace.  

Antimetavole or the Counterchange.  Ye have a figure which takes a couple of words to play with in a verse, and by making them to change and shift one into others place they do very prettily exchange and shift the sense, as thus.  
We dwell not here to build us bowers,  
And halls for pleasure and good cheer:  
But halls we build for us and ours,  
To dwell in them whilst we are here.  
Meaning that we dwell not here to build, but we build to dwell, as we live not to eat, but eat to live, or thus.  
We wish not peace to maintain cruel war,  
But we make war to maintain us in peace.  
Or thus.  
If Poesy be, as some have said,  
A speaking picture to the eye:  
Then is a picture not denayed,  
To be a mute Poesy.  
Or as the Philosopher Musonius written.  
With pleasure if we work unhonestly and ill,  
The pleasure passeth, the bad it bideth still:  
Well if we work with travail and with pains,  
The pain passeth and still the good remains.  
A witty fellow in Rome wrote under the Image of Caesar the Dictator these two verses in Latin, which because they are spoken by this figure of Counterchaunge I have turned into a couple of English verses very well keeping the grace of the figure.  
Brutus for casting out of kings, was first of Consuls past,  
Caesar for casting Consuls out, is of ●ur kings the last.  
Cato of any Senator not only the gravest but also the promptest and wittiest in any civil scoff, misliking greatly the engrossing of offices in Rome that one man should have many at once, and a great number go without that were as able men, said thus by Counterchaunge.  
It seems your offices are very little worth,  
Or very few of you worthy of offices.  
Again: 
In trifles earnest as any man can be,  
In earnest matters no such trifler as he.   
Ye have another figure much like to the Sarcasmus, 
Insultatio, or the Disdainful.  or bitter taunt we spoke of before: and is when with proud and insolent words, we do upbraid a man, or ride him as we term it: for which cause the Latins also call it Insultatio, I choose to name him the Reproachful or scorner, as when Queen Dido saw, that for all her great love and entertainments bestowed upon Aeneas, he would needs departed, and follow the Oracle of his destinies, she broke out in a great rage and said very disdainfully.  
high thee, and by the wild waves and the wind,  
Seek Italy and Realms for thee to reign,  
If piteous Gods have power amidst the main,  
On ragged rocks thy penance thou mayst find.  
Or as the poet Juvenal reproached the covetous Merchant, who for lucre's sake passed on no peril either by land or sea, thus: 
Go now and give thy life unto the wind,  
Trusting unto a piece of brucklewood,  
Four inches from thy death or seven good  
The thickest plank for shipboard that we find.   
Ye have another figure very pleasant and fit for amplification, 
Antitheton, or the The renconter.  which to answer the Greek term, we may call the encounter, but following the Latin name by reason of his contentious nature, we may call him the quarreler, for so be all such persons as delight in taking the contrary part of whatsoever shallbe spoken: when I was a scholar in Oxford they called every such one johannes ad oppositum.  
Good have I done you, much, harm did I never none,  
Ready to joy your gains, your losses to bemoan,  
Why therefore should you grudge so sore at my welfare:  
Who only bred your bliss, and never caused your care.  
Or as it is in these two verses where one speaking of Cupid's bow, deciphered thereby the nature of sensual love, whose beginning is more pleasant than the end, thus allegorically and by antitheton.  
His bent is sweet, his lose is somewhat sour,  
In joy begun, ends oft in woeful hour.  
Master Diar in this quarreling figure.  
Nor love hath now the force, on me which it once had,  
Your frowns can neither make me mourn, nor favours make me glad.  
Isocrates the Greek Orator was a little too full of this figure, & so was the Spaniard that wrote the life of Marcus Aurelius, & many of our modern writers in vulgar, use it in excess & incur the vice of fond affectation: otherwise the figure is very commendable.  
In this quarreling figure we once played this merry epigram of an importune and shrewd wife, thus: 
My neighbour hath a wife, not fit to make him thrive,  
But good to kill a quick man, or make a dead revive.  
So shrewd she is for God, so cunning and so wise,  
To counter with her goodman, and all by contraries.  
For when he is merry, she lurcheth and she loures,  
When he is sad she singes, or laughs it out by hours.  
Bid her be still her tongue to talk shall never cease,  
When she should speak and please, for spite she holds her peace,  
Bid spare and she will spend, bid spend she spares as fast,  
What first ye would have done, be sure it shallbe last.  
Say go, she comes, say come, she goes, and leaves him all alone,  
Her husband (as I think) calls her overthwart jone.   

Erotema. or the Questioner.  There is a kind of figurative speech when we ask many questions and look for none answer, speaking indeed by interrogation, which we might as well say by affirmation. This figure I call the Questioner or inquisitive, as when Medea excusing her great cruelty used in the murder of her own children which she had by jason, said: 
Was I able to make them I pray you tell,  
And am I not able to mar them all aswell?   
Or as another wrote very commendably.  
Why strive I with the stream, or hop against the hill,  
Or search that never can be found, and lose my labour still?  
Cato understanding that the Senate had appointed three citizens of Rome for ambassadors to the king of Bithynia, whereof one had the Gout, another the Meigrim, the third very little courage or discretion to be employed in any such business, said by way of scoff in this figure.  
Must not (trow ye) this message be well sped,  
That hath neither heart, nor heels, nor head?  
And as a great Princess answered her servitor, who distrusting in her favours toward him, praised his own constancy in these verses.  
No fortune base or frail can alter me:  
To whom she in this figure repeating his words: 
No fortune base or frail can alter thee.  
And can so blind a witch so conquer me?   
The figure of exclamation, 
Ecphonisis. or the Outcry.  I call him [the outcry] because it utters our mind by all such words as do show 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 witness, or any such like as declare an impotent affection, as Chaucer of the Lady Cresseida by exclamation.  
O sop of sorrow soonken into care,  
O caitiff Cresseid, for now and evermare.  
Or as Gascoine wrote very passionately and well to purpose.  
Ay me the days that I in dole consume,  
Alas the nights which witness well mine woe:  
O wrongful world which makest my fancy fume,  
Fie fickle fortune, fie, fie thou art my foe:  
Out and alas so froward is my chance,  
No nights nor days, nor worlds can me advance.  
Petrarche in a sonnet which Sir Thomas Wyatt Englished excellently well, said in this figure by way of imprecation and obtestation: thus, 
Perdie I said it not,  
Nor never thought to do:  
Aswell as I ye wots,  
I have no power thereto:  
" And if I did the lot  
That first did me enchain,  
May never slake the knot  
But strait it to my pain.  
" And if I did each thing,  
That may do harm or woe:  
Continually may wring,  
My heart where so I go.  
" Report may always ring:  
Of shame on me for aye,  
If in my heart did spring,  
The words that you do say.  
" And if I did each star,  
That is in heaven above.   
And so forth, etc.  
We use sometimes to proceed all by single words, without any close or coupling, 
Brachiologa, or the Cutted comma  saving that a little pause or comma is given to every word. This figure for pleasure may be called in our vulgar the cutted comma, for that there cannot be a shorter division then at every words end. The Greeks in their language call it short language, as thus.  
Envy, malice, flattery, disdain,  
Avarice, deceit, falsehood, filthy gain.  
If this lose language be used, not in single words, but in long clauses, it is called Asindeton, and in both cases we utter in that fashion, when either we be earnest, or would seem to make haste.  

Parison, or the Figure of even.  Ye have another figure which we may call the figure of even, because it goeth by clauses of equal quantity, and not very long, but yet not so short as the cutted comma: and they give good grace to a ditty, but specially to a prose. In this figure we once wrote in a melancholic humour these verses.  
The good is geason, and short is his abode,  
The bad bides long, and easy to be found:  
Our life is loathsome, our sins a heavy load,  
Conscience a cursed judge, remorse a privy goad.  
Disease, age and death still in our ear they round,  
That hence we must the sickly and the sound:  
Treading the steps that our forefathers troad,  
Rich, poor, holy, wise, all flesh it goes to ground.  
In a prose there should not be used at once of such even clauses past three or four at the most.  
When so ever we multiply our speech by many words or clauses of one sense, the Greeks call it Sinonimia, as who would say, 
Sinonimia, or the Figure of store.  like or consenting names: the Latins having no fit term to give him, called it by a name of event, for (said they) many words of one nature and sense, 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 ask whether his Captain Orontes were dead or alive, used this store of speeches all to one purpose.  
Is he alive,  
Is he as I left him queaving and quick,  
And hath he not yet given up the ghost,  
Among the rest of those that I have lost?  
Or if it be in single words, than thus.  
What is become of that beautiful face,  
Those lovely looks, that favour amiable,  
Those sweet features, and visage full of grace,  
That countenance which is alonely able  
To kill and cure?  
Ye see that all these words, face, looks, favour, features, visage, countenance, are in sense but all one. Which store, nevertheless, doth much beautify and enlarge the matter. So said another.  
My faith, my hope, my trust, my God and eke my guide,  
Stretch forth thy hand to save the soul, what ere the body bide.  
Here faith, hope and trust be words of one effect, allowed to us by this figure of store.  
Otherwhiles we speak and be sorry for it, as if we had not well spoken, so that we seem to call in our word again, 
Metanoia, or the Penitent.  and to put in another fit for the purpose: for which respects the Greeks called this manner of speech the figure of repentance: then for that upon repentance commonly follows amendment▪ the Latins called it the figure of correction, in that the speaker seemeth to reform that which was said amiss. I following the Greek original, choose to call him the penitent, or repentant: and singing in honour of the maiden Queen, meaning to praise her for her greatness of courage, overshooting myself, called it first by the name of pride: then fearing least fault might be found with that term, by & by turned this word pride to praise: resembling her Majesty to the Lion, being her own noble armoury, which by a sly construction purporteth magnanimity. Thus in the latter end of a Parthemiade.  
O peerless you, or else no one alive,  
" Your pride serves you to feaze them all alone:  
" Not pride madame, but praise of the lion,  
To conquer all and be conquered by none.  
And in another Parthemiade thus insinuating her majesties great constancy in refusal of all marriages offered her, thus: 
" Her heart is hid none may it see,  
" Marble or flint folk ween it be.   
Which may employ rigour and cruelty, than correcteth it thus.  
Not flint I trow I am a liar,  
But Siderite that seeles no fire.  
By which is intended, that it proceeded of a cold and chaste complexion not easily alured to love.  

Antenagoge. or the Recompencer.  We have another manner of speech much like to the repentant, but doth not as the same recant or unsay a word that hath been said before, putting another fit in his place, but having spoken any thing to deprave the matter or party, he denieth it not, but as it were helpeth it again by another more favourable speech: and so seemeth to make amends, for which cause it is called by the original name in both languages, the Recompencer, as he that was merrily asked the question, whether his wife were not a shrew as well as others of his neighbour's wives, answered in this figure as pleasantly, for he could not well deny it.  
I must needs say, that my wife is a shrew,  
But such a housewife as I know but a few.  
Another in his first proposition giving a very faint commendation to the Courtier's life, weaning to make him amends, made it worser by a second proposition, thus: 
The Courtier's life full delicate it is,  
But where no wise man will ever set his bliss.   
And an other speaking to the encouragement of youth in study and to be come excellent in letters and arms, said thus: 
Many are the pains and perils to be past,  
But great is the gain and glory at the last.   
Our poet in his short ditties, 
Epithonema. or the Surclose.  but specially playing the Epigrammatist will use to conclude and shut up his Epigram with a verse or two, spoken in such sort, as it may seem a manner of allowance to all the premises, and that with a joyful approbation, which the Latins call Acclamatio, we therefore call this figure the surcloze or consenting close, as Virgil when he had largely spoken of of Prince Aeneas his success and fortunes concluded with this close.  
Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem.  
In English thus: 
So huge a piece of work it was and so high,  
To rear the house of Roman progente.   
Sir Philip Sidney very prettily closed up a ditty in this sort.  
What medicine then, can such disease remove,  
Where love breeds hate, and hate engenders love.  
And we in a Partheniade written of her Majesty, declaring to what perils virtue is generally subject, and applying that fortune to herself, closed it up with this Epiphoneme.  
Than if there be,  
Any so cankered heart to grudge,  
At your glories: my Queen: in vain,  
Repining at your fatal reign:  
It is for that they feel too much,  
Of your bounty.  
As who would say her own overmuch lenity and goodness, made her ill willers the more bold and presumptuous.  
Lucretius Carus the philosopher and poet inveighing sore against the abuses of the superstitious religion of the Gentiles, and recompting the wicked fact of king Agamemnon in sacrificing his only daughter Iphigenia, being a young damsel of excellent beauty, to th'intent to please the wrathful gods, hinderers of his navigation, after he had said all, closed it up in this one verse, spoken in Epiphonema.  
Tantum relligio potuit suadere malorum.  
In English thus: 
Lo what an outrage, could cause to be done,  
The peevish scruple of blind religion.   

Auxesis, or the Auancer.  It happens many times that to urge and enforce the matter we speak of, we go still mounting by degrees and increasing our speech with words or with sentences of more weight one then another, & is a figure of great both efficacy & ornament, as he that declaring the great calamity of an infortunate prince, said thus: 
He lost beside his children and his wife,  
His realm, ronowne, liege, liberty and life.   
By which it appeareth that to any noble Prince the loss of his estate ought not to be so grievous, as of his honour, nor any of them both like to the lack of his liberty, but that life is the dearest detriment of any other. We call this figure by the Greek original the Auancer or figure of increase because every word that is spoken is one of more weight than another.  
And as we lamented the cruelty of an inexorable and unfaithful mistress.  
If by the laws of love it be a fault,  
The faithful friend, in absence to forget:  
But if it be (once do thy heart but halt,)  
A secret sin: what forfeit is so great:  
As by despite in view of every eye,  
The solemn vows oft sworn with tears so salt,  
And holy Leagues fast sealed with hand and heart:  
For to repeal and break so wilfully?  
But now (alas) without all just desert,  
My lot is for my troth and much good will,  
To reap disdain, hatred and rude refuse,  
Or if ye would work me some greater ill:  
And of mine earned joys to feel no part,  
What else is this (o cruel) but to use,  
Thy murdering knife the guiltless blood to spill.  
Where ye see how she is charged first with a fault, then with a a secret sin, afterward with a foul forfeit, last of all with a most cruel & bloody deed. And thus again in a certain lovers complaint made to the like effect.  
They say it is a ruth to see thy lover need,  
But you can see me weep, but you can see me bleed:  
And never shrink nor shame, ne shed no tear at all,  
You make my wounds yourself, and fill them up with gall:  
Yea you can see me sound, and faint for want of breath,  
And gasp and groan for life, and struggle still with death,  
What can you now do more; swear by your maidenhead,  
Then for to slay me quick, or strip me being dead.  
In these verses you see how one cruelty surmounts another by degrees till it come to very slaughter and beyond, for it is thought a despite done to a dead carcase to be an evidence of greater cruelty then to have killed him.  
After the Auancer followeth the abbaser working by words and sentences of extenuation or diminution. 
Meiosis. or the Disabler.  Whereupon we call him the Disabler or figure of Extenuation: and this extenuation is used to divers purposes, sometimes for modesty's sake, and to avoid the opinion of arrogancy, speaking of ourselves or of ours, as he that disabled himself to his mistress▪ thus.  
Not all the skill I have to speak or do,  
Which little is God wots (set love apart:)  
Liveload nor life, and put them both thereto,  
Can counterpoise the due of your desert.  
It may be also done for despite to bring our adversaries in contempt, as he that said by one (commended for a very brave soldier) disabling him scornfully, thus.  
A ●●●ise man (forsooth) and fit for the war,  
Good at hand grippes, better to fight a far:  
Whom bright weapon in show as it is said,  
Yea his own shade, hath often made afraid.  
The subtility of the scoff lieth in these Latin words [eminus & cominus pugnare.] Also we use this kind of Extenuation when we take in hand to comfort or cheer any perilous enterprise, making a great matter seem small, and of little difficulty, & is much used by captains in the war, when they (to give courage to their soldiers) will seem to disable the persons of their enemies, and abase their forces, and make light of every thing that might be a discouragement to the attempt, as Hannibal did in his Oration to his soldiers, when they should come to pass the Alps to enter Italy, and for sharpness of the weather, and steepness of the mountains their hearts began to fail them.  
We use it again to excuse a fault, & to make an offence seem less than it is, by giving a term more favourable and of less vehemency than 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 prodigal fool, that he is a kind hearted man: of a notorious unthrift, a lusty youth, and such like phrases of extenuation, which fall more aptly to the office of the figure Curry favell before remembered.  
And we use the like terms by way of pleasant familiarity, and as it were for a Courtly manner of speech with our egalls or inferiors, as to call a young Gentlewoman mal for Mary, nel for Elner: jack for john, Robin for Robert: or any other like affected terms spoken of pleasure, as in our triumphals calling familiarly upon our Muse, I called her Mop.  
But will you weet,  
My little muse, my pretty mop:  
If we shall algates change our stop,  
Chose me a sweet.  
Understanding by this word [Mop] a little pretty Lady, or tender young thing. For so we call little fishes, that be not come to their full growth [moppes,] as whiting moppes, gurnard moppes.  
Also such terms are used to be given in derision and for a kind of contempt, as when we say Lording for Lord, & as the Spaniard that calleth an Earl of small revenue Contadilio: the Italian calleth the poor man, by contempt poverachio, or poverino, the little beast animalculo or animaluchio, and such like diminutives appertaining 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 spoke before (prolepsis) because of the resumption of a former proposition uttered in generality to explain the same better by a particular division. 
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 terms, and is therefore accounted one of the figures of repetition, and in that respect may be called by his original Greek name the [Resound] or the [retire] for this word [〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉] serves both senses resound and retire. The use of this figure, is seen in this ditty following, 
Love hope and death, do stir in me much strife,  
As never man but I lead such a life:  
For burning love doth wound my heart to death:  
And when death comes at call of inward grief,  
Cold lingering hope doth feed my fainting breath:  
Against my will, and yields my wound relief,  
So that I live, but yet my life is such:  
As never death could grieve me half so much.   
Then have ye a manner of speech, 
Dialisis, or the Dismembrer.  not so figurative as fit for argumentation, and worketh not unlike the dilemma of the Logicians, because he propones two or more matters entirely, and doth as it were set down the whole tale or reckoning of an argument and then clear every part by itself, as thus.  
It can not be but nigardship or need,  
Made him attempt this foul and wicked deed:  
Nigardship not, for always he was free,  
Nor need, for who doth not his richesses see?  
Or as one that entreated for a fair young maid who was taken by the watch in London and carried to Bridewell to be punished.  
Now gentle Sirs let this young maid alone,  
For either she hath grace of else she hath none:  
If she have grace, she may in time repent,  
If she have none what boots her punishment.  
Or as another pleaded his deserts with his mistress.  
Were it for grace, or else in hope of gain,  
To say of my deserts, it is but vain:  
For well in mind, in case ye do them bear,  
To tell them oft, it should but irk your ear:  
Be they forgot: as likely should I fail,  
To win with words, where deeds can not prevail.  
Then have ye a figure very meet for Orators or eloquent persuaders such as our maker or Poet must in some cases show himself to be, 
Merismus. or the Distributer.  and is when we may conveniently utter a matter in one entire speech or proposition and will rather do it piecemeal and by distribution of every part for amplification sake, as for example he that might say, a house was outrageously plucked down: will not be satisfied so to say, but rather will speak it in this sort: they first undermined the groundsills, they beat down the walls, they unfloored the lofts, they untiled it and pulled down the roof. For so in deed is a house pulled down by circumstances, which this figure of distribution doth set forth every one apart, and therefore I name him the distributor according to his original, as wrote the Tuscan Poet in a Sonnet which Sir Thomas Wyatt translated with very good grace, thus.  
Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green,  
Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice:  
In temperate heat where he is felt and seen,  
In presence priest of people mad or wise:  
Set me in high or yet in low degree,  
In longest night or in the shortest day:  
In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be,  
In lusty youth or when my hears are grey:  
Set me in heaven, in earth or else in hell,  
In hill or dale or in the foaming flood:  
Thrall or at large, alive where so I dwell,  
Sick or in health, in evil fame or good:  
Hers will I be, and only with this thought,  
Content myself, although my chance be nought.  
All which might have been said in these two verses. 
Set me wheresoever ye will,  
I am and will be yours still.  The zealous Poet writing in praise of the maiden Queen would not seem to wrap up all her most excellent parts in a few words them entirely comprehending, but did it by a distributor or merismus in the negative for the better grace, thus.  
Not your beauty, most gracious sovereign,  
Nor maidenly looks, mainteind with majesty:  
Your stately port, which doth not match but stain,  
For your presence, your palace and your train,  
All Prince's Courts, mine eye could ever see:  
Not your quick wits, your sober governance:  
Your clear foresight, your faithful memory,  
So sweet features, in so staid countenance:  
Nor languages, with plenteous utterance,  
So able to discourse, and entertain:  
Not noble race, far beyond Caesar's reign,  
Run in right line, and blood of anointed kings:  
Not large empire, armies, treasures, domaine,  
Lusty liveries, of fortunes dearst darlings:  
Not all the skills, fit for a Princely dame,  
Your learned Muse, with use and study brings.  
Not true honour, ne that immortal fame  
Of maiden reign, your only own renown  
And no Queens else, yet such as yields your name  
Greater glory than doth your triple crown.  
And then concludes thus.  
Not any one of all these honoured parts  
Your Princely haps, and habits that do move,  
And as it were, ensorcell all the hearts  
Of Christian kings to quarrel for your love,  
But to possess, at once and all the good  
Art and engine, and every star above  
Fortune or kind, could farce in flesh and blood,  
Was force enough to make so many strive  
For your person, which in our world stood  
By all consents the minionst maid to wive.  
Where ye see that all the parts of her commendation which were partitularly remembered in twenty verses before, are wrapped up in the two verses of this last part, videl.  
Not any one of all your honoured parts,  
Those Princely haps and habits, etc.  
This figure serves for amplification, and also for ornament, and to enforce persuasion mightily. Sir Geffrey Chaucer, father of our English Poets, hath these verses following in the distributor.  
When faith fails in priests saws,  
And Lords hests are holden for laws,  
And robbery is ta'en for purchase,  
And lechery for solace  
Then shall the Realm of Albion  
Be brought to great confusion.  
Where he might have said as much in these words: when vice abounds, and virtue decayeth in Albion, then etc. And as another said, 
When Prince for his people is wakeful and wise,  
Peers aiding with arms, Counsellors with advise,  
Magistrate sincerely using his charge,  
People priest to obey, nor let to run at large,  
Prelate of holy life, and with devotion  
Preferring piety before promotion,  
Priest still preaching, and praying for our heal:  
Then blessed is the state of a commonweal.   
All which might have been said in these few words, when every man in charge and authority doth his duty, & executeth his function well, then is the commonwealth happy.  
The Greek Poets who made musical ditties to be song to the lute or harp, 
Epimone, or the Loveburden.  did use to link their staves together with one verse running throughout the whole song by equal distance, and was, for the most part, the first verse of the staff, which kept so good sense and conformity with the whole, as his often repetition did give it greater grace. They called such linking verse Epimone, the Latins versus intercalaris, and we may term him the Loveburden, following the original, or if it please you, the long repeat: in one respect because that one verse alone beareth the whole burden of the song according to the original: in another respect, for that it comes by large distances to be often repeated, as in this ditty made by the noble knight Sir Philip Sidney, 

My true love hath my heart and I have his,  
By just exchange one for another given:  
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,  
There never was a better bargain driven.   

My true love hath my heart and I have his.  
My heart in me keeps him and me in one,  
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:  
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,  
I cherish his because in me it bides.   

My true love hath my heart, and I have his.    
Many times our Poet is carried by some occasion to report of a thing that is marvelous, 
Paradoxon, or the Wondrer.  and then he will seem not to speak it simply but with some sign of admiration, as in our interlude called the Wooer.  
I wonder much to see so many husbands thrive,  
That have but little wit, before they come to wive:  
For one would easily ween who so hath little wit,  
His wife to teach it him, were a thing much unfit.  
Or as Cato the Roman Senator said one day merrily to his companion that walked with him, pointing his finger to a young unthrift in the street who lately before had sold his patrimony, of a goodly quantity of salt marshes, lying near unto Capua shore.  
Now is it not, a wonder to behold,  
Yonder gallant scarce twenty winter old,  
By might (mark ye) able to do more?  
Than the main sea that batters on his shore?  
For what the waves could never wash away,  
This proper youth hath wasted in a day.  
Not much unlike the wondrer have ye another figure called the doubtful, because oftentimes we will seem to cast perils, 
Aporia, or the Doubtful.  and make doubt of things when by a plain manner of speech we might affirm or deny him, as thus of a cruel mother who murdered her own child.  
Whether the cruel mother were more to blame,  
Or the shrewd child come of so cursed a dame:  
Or whether some smatch of the father's blood,  
Whose kin were never kind, nor never good.  
Moved her thereto, etc.  
This manner of speech is used when we will not seem, 
Epitropis, or the Figure of Reference.  either for manner sake or to avoid tediousness, to trouble the judge or hearer with all that we could say, but having said enough already, we refer the rest to their consideration, as he that said thus: 
methinks that I have said, what may well suffice,  
Referring all the rest, to your better advise.   
The fine and subtle persuader when his intent is to sting his adversary, or else to declare his mind in broad and liberal speeches, which might breed offence or scandal, he will seem to bespeak pardon before hand, 
Par●sia, or the Licentious.  whereby his licentiousness may be the better borne withal, as he that said: 
If my speech hap t'offend you any way,  
Think it their fault, that force me so to say.   

Anachinosis. or the Impartener.  Not much unlike to the figure of reference, is there another with some little diversity which we call the impartener, because many times in pleading and persuading, we think it a very good policy to acquaint our judge or hearer or very adversary with some part of our Counsel and advice, and to ask their opinion, as who would say they could not otherwise think of the matter than we do. As he that had told a long tale before certain noble women, of a matter somewhat in honour touching the Sex.  
Tell me fair Ladies, if the case were your own,  
So foul a fault would you have it be known?  
Master Gorge in this figure, said very sweetly.  
All you who read these lines and skanne of my desert,  
judge whether was more good, my hap or else my heart.  
The good Orator useth a manner of speech in his persuasion and is when all that should seem to make against him being spoken by th'otherside, 
Paramologia, or the figure of Admittance.  he will first admit it, and in th'end avoid all for his better advantage, and this figure is much used by our English pleaders in the star-chamber and Chancery, which they call to confess and avoid, if it be in case of crime or injury, and is a very good way. For when the matter is so plain that it cannot be denied or traversed, it is good that it be justified by confessall and avoidance. I call it the figure of admittance. As we once wrote to the reproof of a Ladie● fair but cruelty.  
I know your wit, I know your pleasant tongue,  
Your some sweet smiles, your some, but lovely lowrs:  
A beauty to enamour old and young.  
Those chaste desires, that noble mind of yours,  
And that chief part whence all your honour springs,  
A grace to entertain the greatest kings.  
All this I know: but sin it is to see,  
So fair parts spilled by too much cruelty.  
In many cases we are driven for better persuasion to tell the cause that moves us to say thus or thus: 
Etiologia, or the Reason rend or the Tell cause.  or else when we would fortify our allegations by rendering reasons to every one, this assignation of cause the Greeks called Etiologia, which if we might without scorn of a new invented term call [Tellcause] it were right according to the Greek original: & I pray you why should we not? and with as good authority as the Greeks? Sir Thomas Smith, her majesties principal Secretary, and a man of great learning and gravity, seeking to give an English word to this Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 called it Spitewed, or wedspite. Master Secretary Wilson giving an English name to his art of Logic, called it Witcraft, me think I may be bold with like liberty to call the figure Etiologia [Tellcause.] And this manner of speech is always contemned, with these words, for, because, and such other confirmatives. The Latins having no fit name to give it in one single word, gave it no name at all, but by circumlocution. We also call him the reason-rendrer, and leave the right English word [Tell cause] much better answering the Greek original. Aristotle was most excellent in use of this figure, for he never propones any allegation, or makes any surmise, but he yields a reason or cause to fortify and prove it, which gives it great credit. For example ye may take these verses, first pointing, than confirming by similitudes.  
When fortune shall have spit out all her gall,  
I trust good luck shall be to me allowed,  
For I have seen a ship in haven fall,  
After the storm had broke both mast and shroud.  
And this.  
Good is the thing that moves us to desire,  
That is to joy the beauty we behold:  
Else were we lovers as in an endless fire,  
Always burning and ever chill a cold.  
And in these verses.  
Accused though I be without desert,  
Sith none can prove believe it not for true:  
For never yet since first ye had my heart,  
Intended I to false or be untrue.  
And in this Disticque.  
And for her beauty's praise, no wight that with her wars:  
For where she comes she shows herself like sun among the stars.  
And in this other ditty of ours where the lover complains of his Lady's cruelty, rendering for every surmise a reason, and by telling the cause, seeketh (as it were) to get credit, thus.  
Cruel you be who can say nay,  
Since ye delight in others woe:  
Unwise am I, ye may well say,  
For that I have, honoured you so.  
But blameless I, who could not choose,  
To be enchanted by your eye:  
But ye to blame, thus to refuse  
My service, and to let me die.  

Dichologia, or the Figure of excuse.  Sometimes our error is so manifest, or we be so hardly priest with our adversaries, as we cannot deny the fault laid unto our charge: in which case it is good policy to excuse it by some allowable pretext, as did one whom his mistress burdened with some unkind speeches which he had passed of her, thus.  
I said it: but by lapse of lying tongue,  
When fury and just grief my heart oppressed:  
I said it: as ye see, both frail and young,  
When your rigour had rankled in my breast.  
The cruel wound that smarted me so sore,  
Pardon therefore (sweet sorrow) or at least  
Bear with mine youth that never fell before,  
Lest your offence increase my grief the more.  
And again in these, 
I spoke amiss I cannot it deny  
But caused by your great discourtesy:  
And if I said that which I now repent,  
And said it not, but by misgovernment  
Of youthful years, yourself that are so young  
Pardon for once this error of my tongue,  
And think amends can never come to late:  
Love may be cursed, but love can never hate.   
Speaking before of the figure [Synecdoche] we called him [Quick conceit] because he enured in a single word only by way of intendment or large meaning, 
Noema, or the Figure of close conceit.  but such as was speedily discovered by every quick wit, as by the half to understand the whole, and many other ways appearing by the examples. But by this figure [Noema] the obscurity of the sense lieth not in a single word, but in an entire speech, whereof we do not so easily conceive the meaning, but as it were by conjecture, because it is witty and subtle or dark, which makes me therefore call him in our vulgar the [Close conceit] as he that said by himself and his wife, I thank God in forty winters that we have lived together, never any of our neighbours set us at one, meaning that they never fell out in all that space, which had been the director speech and more apert, and yet by intendment amounts all to one, being nevertheless dissemblable and in effect contrary. Pawlet Lord Treasurer of England, and first Marquis of Winchester, with the like subtle speech gave a quip to Sir William Gyfford, who had married the Marquis sister, and all her life time could never love her nor like of her company, but when she was dead made the greatest moan for her in the world, and with tears and much lamentation uttered his grief to the L. Treasurer, o good brother quoth the Marquis, I am right sorry to see you now love my sister so well, meaning that he showed his love too late, and should have done it while she was alive.  
A great counsellor somewhat forgetting his modesty, used these words: God's lady I reckon myself as good a man as he you talk 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 useth a definition to express the truth or nature of every thing by his true kind and difference, 
Orismus, or the Definer of difference.  as to say wisdom is a prudent and witty foresight and consideration of human or worldly actions with their events. This definition is Logical. The Orator useth another manner of definition, thus: Is this wisdom? no it is a certain subtle knavish crafty wit, it is no industry as ye call it, but a certain busy brainsicknesse, for industry is a lively and unwearied search and occupation in honest things, eagerness is an appetite in base and small matters.  
It serveth many times to great purpose to prevent our adversaries arguments, and take upon us to know before what our judge or adversary or hearer thinketh, and that we will seem to utter it before it be spoken or alleged by them, in respect of which boldness to enter so deeply into another man's conceit or conscience, and to be so privy of another man's mind, gave cause that this figure was called the [presumptuous] I will also call him the figure of presupposal or the preuenter, 
Procatalepsis, or the presumptuous, otherwise the figure of Presupposal.  for by reason we suppose before what may be said▪ or perchance would be said by our adversary or any other, we do prevent them of their advantage, 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 used for a good policy in pleading or persuasion to make wise as if we set but light of the matter, and that therefore we do pass it over slightly when in deed we do then intent most effectually and despitefully if it be invective to remember it: it is also when we will not seem to know a thing, and yet we know it well enough, and may be likened to the manner of women, who as the common saying is, will say nay and take it.  
I hold my peace and will not say for shame,  
The much untruth of that uncivil dame:  
For if I should her colours kindly blaze,  
It would so make the chaste ears amaze. etc.  

Commoratio, or the figure of abode  It is said by manner of a proverbial speech that he who finds himself well should not wag, even so the persuader finding a substantial point in his matter to serve his purpose, should dwell upon that point longer then upon any other less assured, and use all endeavour to maintain that one, & as it were to make his chief abode thereupon, for which cause I name him the figure of abode, according to the Latin name: Some take it not but for a course of argument & therefore hardly may one give any examples thereof.  
Now as art and good policy in persuasion bids us to abide & not to stir from the point of our most advantage, 
Metastasis, or the flitting figure. or the Remove.  but the same to enforce and tarry upon with all possible argument, so doth discretion will us sometimes to flit from one matter to another, as a thing meet to be forsaken, and another entered upon, I call him therefore the flitting figure, or figure of remove, like as the other before was called the figure of abode.  
Even so again, 
Parecnasis, or the Straggler.  as it is wisdom for a persuader to tarry and make his abode as long as he may conveniently without tediousness to the hearer, upon his chief proofs or points of the cause tending to his advantage, and likewise to departed again when time serves, and go to a new matter serving the purpose aswell. So is it requisite many times for him to talk far from the principal matter, and as it were to range aside, to th'intent by such extraordinary mean to induce or infer other matter, aswell or better serving the principal purpose, and nevertheless in season to return home where he first strayed out. This manner of speech is termed the figure of digression by the Latins, following the Greek original, we also call him the straggler by allusion to the soldier that marches out of his array, or by those that keep no order in their march, as the battles well ranged do: of this figure there need be given no example.  
Occasion offers many times that our maker as an orator, 
Expeditio, or the speedy dispatcher.  or persuader, or pleader should go roundly to work, and by a quick and swift argument dispatch his persuasion, & as they are wont 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 figurative and argumentative, when we do briefly set down all our best reasons serving the purpose, and reject all of them saving one, which we accept to satisfy the cause: as he that in a litigious case for land would prove it not the adversaries, but his clients.  
No man can say it's his by heritage,  
Nor by Legacy, or testators device:  
Nor that it came by purchase or engage,  
Nor from his Prince for any good service.  
Then needs must it be his by very wrong,  
Which he hath offered this poor plaintiff so long.  
Though we might call this figure very well and properly the [Paragon] yet dare I not so to do for fear of the Courtier's envy, who will have no man use that term but after a courtly manner, that is, in praising of horses, hawks, hounds, pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones: specially of fair women whose excellency is discovered by paragonizing or setting one to another, which moved the zealous Poet, speaking of the maiden Queen, to call her the paragon of Queens. This considered, I will let our figure enjoy his best beknown name, and call him still in all ordinary cases the figure of comparison: as when a man will seem to make things appear good or bad, or better or worse, or more or less excellent, either upon spite or for pleasure or any other good affection, than he sets the less by the greater, or the greater to the less, the equal to his equal, and by such confronting of them together, drives out the true odds that is betwixt them, and makes it better appear, as when we sang of our Sovereign Lady thus, in the twentieth Partheniade. 
As falcon fares to bussards' flight,  
As eagles eyes to owlates sight,  
As fierce saker to coward kite,  
As brightest noon to darkest night:  
As summer sun exceedeth far,  
The moon and every other star:  
So far my Princess praise doth pass,  
The famoust Queen that ever was.   
And in the eighteen Partheniade thus. 
Set rich ruby to red esmayle,  
The ravens plume to peacocks tail,  
Lay me the larks to lizards eyes,  
The dusky cloud to azure sky,  
Set shallow brooks to surging seas,  
An orient pearl to a white pease:   
etc. Concluding.  
There shall no less an odds be seen  
In mine from every other Queen.  

Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.  We are sometimes occasioned in our tale to report some speech from another man's mouth, as what a king said to his privy counsel or subject, a captain to his soldier, a soldier to his captain, a man to a woman, and contrariwise: in which report we must always give to every person his fit and natural, & that which best becometh him. For that speech becometh a king which doth not a carter, and a young man that doth not an old: and so in every sort and degree. Virgil speaking in the person of Aeneas, Turnus and many other great Princes, and sometimes of meaner men, ye shall see what decency every of their speeches holdeth with the quality, degree and years of the speaker. To which examples I will for this time refer you.  
So if by way of fiction we will seem to speak in another man's person, as if king Henry the eight were alive, and should say of the town of Bulleyn, what we by war to the hazard of our person hardly obtained, our young son without any peril at all, for little money delivered up again. Or if we should feign king Edward the third, understanding how his successor Queen Marie had lost the town of calais by negligence, should say: That which the sword wan, the distaff hath lost. This manner of speech is by the figure Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.  
In weighty causes and for great purposes, 
Gnome, or the Director.  wise persuaders use grave & weighty speeches, specially in matter of advise or counsel, for which purpose there is a manner of speech to allege texts or authorities of witty sentence, such as smatch moral doctrine and teach wisdom and good behaviour, by the Greek original we call him the director, by the Latin he is called sententia: we may call him the sage sayer, thus. 
" Nature bids us as a loving mother,  
" To love ourselves first and next to love another. 
Sententiae. or the Sage sayer.   
" The Prince that covets all to know and see,  
" Had need fall mild and patiented to be.  
" Nothing sticks faster by us as appears,  
" Then that which we learn in our tender years.   
And that which our sovereign Lady wrote in defiance of fortune.  
Never think you fortune can bear the sway,  
Where virtues force, can cause her to obey.  
Heed must be taken that such rules or sentences be choisly made and not often used least excess breed loathsomeness.  
Art and good policy moves us many times to be earnest in our speech, 
Sinathrismus. or the Heaping figure  and then we lay on such load and so go to it by heaps as if we would win the game by multitude of words & speeches, not all of one but of divers matter and sense, for which cause the Latins called it Congeries and we the heaping figure, as he that said 
To muse in mind how fair, how wise, how good,  
How brave, how free, how courteous and how true,  
My Lady is doth but inflame my blood.   
Or thus.  
I deem, I dream, I do, I taste, I touch,  
Nothing at all but smells of perfect bliss.  
And thus by master Edward Diar, vehement swift & passionately.  
But if my faith my hope, my love my true intent,  
My liberty, my service vowed, my time and all be spent.  
In vain, etc.  
But if such earnest and hasty heaping up of speeches be made by way of recapitulation, which commonly is in the end of every long tale and Oration, because the speaker seems to make a collection of all the former material points, to bind them as it were in a bundle and lay them forth to enforce the cause and renew the hearers memory, than ye may give him more properly the name of the [collector] or recapitulatour, and serveth to very great purpose as in an hymn written by us to the Queen's Majesty entitled (Minerva) wherein speaking of the mutability of fortune in the case of all Princes generally, we seemed to exempt her Majesty of all such casualty, by reason she was by her destiny and many divine parts in her, ordained to a most long and constant prosperity in this world, concluding with this recapitulation.  
But thou art free, but were thou not in deed,  
But were thou not, come of immortal seed:  
Never yborn, and thy mind made to bliss,  
heavens metal that everlasting is:  
Were not thy wit, and that thy virtues shall,  
Be deemed divine thy favour face and all:  
And that thy loze, ne name may never die,  
Nor thy state turn, stayed by destiny:  
Dread were lest once thy noble heart may feel,  
Some rueful turn, of her unsteady wheel.  

Apostrophe, or the turn tale.  Many times when we have run a long race in our tale spoken to the hearers, we do suddenly fly out & either speak or exclaim at some other person or thing, and therefore the Greeks call such figure (as we do) the turnway or turnetale, & breedeth by such exchange a certain recreation to the hearer's minds, as this used by a lover to his unkind mistress.  
And as for you (fair one) say now by proof ye find,  
That rigour and ingratitude soon kill a gentle mind.  
And as we in our triumphals, speaking long to the Queen's Majesty, upon the sudden we burst out in an exclamation to Phoebus, seeming to draw in a new matter, thus. 

But O Phoebus,  
All glistering in thy gorgeous gown,  
Wouldst thou wit safe to slide a down:  
And devil with us,   

But for a day,  
I could tell thee close in thine ear,  
A tale that thou hadst liefer hear  
I dare well say:   

Then ere thou wert,  
To kiss that unkind runneaway,  
Who was transformed to boughs of bay:  
For her cursed heart. etc.    
And so returned again to the first matter.  
The matter and occasion leadeth us many times to describe and set forth many things, 
Hypotiposis, or the counterfeit representation.  in such sort as it should appear they were truly before our eyes though they were not present, which to do it requireth cunning: for nothing can be kindly counterfeit or represented in his absence, but by great discretion in the doer. And if the things we covet to describe be not natural or not veritable, than yet the same asketh more cunning to do it, because to feign a thing that never was nor is like to be, proceedeth of a greater wit and sharper invention than to describe things that be true.  
And these be things that a poet or maker is wont to describe sometimes as true or natural, 
Prosopographia.  and sometimes to feign as artificial and not true. viz. The visage, speech and countenance of any person absent or dead: and this kind of representation is called the Counterfeit countenance: as Homer doth in his Iliads, diverse 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 Counterfeit in personation.  But if ye will feign any person with such features, qualities & conditions, or if ye will attribute any human quality, as reason or speech to dumb creatures or other insensible things, & do study (as one may say) to give them a human person, it is not Prosopographia, but Prosopopeia, because it is by way of fiction, & no prettier examples can be given to you thereof, than in the Romant of the rose translated out of French by Chaucer, describing the persons of avarice, envy, old age, and many others, whereby much morality is taught.  

Cronographia. or the Counterfeit time.  So if we describe the time or season of the year, as winter, summer, harvest, day, midnight, noon, evening, or such like: we call such description the counterfeit time. Cronographia examples are every where to be found.  

Topographia. or the Counterfeit place.  And if this description be of any true place, city, castle, hill, valley or sea, & such like: we call it the counterfeit place Topographia, or if ye fain places untrue, as heaven, hell, paradise, the house of fame, the palace of the sun, the den of sheep, and such like which ye shall see in poets: so did Chaucer very well describe the country of Saluces in Italy, which ye may see, in his report of the Lady Gryfyll.  

Pragmatographia. or the Counterfeit action.  But if such description be made to represent the handling of any business with the circumstances belonging thereunto as the manner of a battle, a feast, a marriage, a burial or any other matter that lieth in feat and activity: we call it then the counterfeit action [Pragmatographia.]  
In this figure the Lord Nicholas Vaux a noble gentleman, and much delighted in vulgar making, & a man otherwise of no great learning but having herein a marvelous facility, made a ditty representing the battle and assault of Cupid, so excellently well, as for the gallant and proper application of his fiction in every part, I cannot choose but set down the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it can not be amended.  

When Cupid scaled first the fort,  
Wherein my heart lay wounded sore  
The battery was of such a sort,  
That I must yield or die therefore.  
There saw I love upon the wall,  
How he his banner did display,  
Alarm alarm he 'gan to call,  
And bad his soldiers keep array.   

The arms the which that Cupid bore,  
Were pierced hearts with tears besprent:  
In silver and sable to declare  
The steadfast love he always meant.   

There might you see his band all dressed  
In colours like to white and black,  
With powder and with pellets priest,  
To bring them forth to spoil and sack,  
Good will the master of the shot,  
Stood in the Rampire brave and proud,  
For expense of powder he spared not,  
Assault assault to cry aloud.   

There might you hear the Canons roar,  
Each piece discharging a lovers look, etc.   
As well to a good maker and Poet as to an excellent persuader in prose, the figure of Similitude is very necessary, 
Omiosis. or Resemblance.  by which we not only beautify our tale, but also very much enforce & enlarge it. I say enforce because no one thing more prevaileth with all ordinary judgements than persuasion by similitude. Now because there are sundry sorts of them, which also do work after diverse fashions in the hearer's conceits, I will set them all forth by a triple division, exempting the general Similitude as their common ancestor, and I will call him by the name of Resemblance without any addition, from which I derive three other sorts: and give every one his particular name, as Resemblance by Portrait or Imagery, which the Greeks call Icon, Resemblance moral or mystical, which they call Parabola, & Resemblance by example, which they call Paradigma, and first we will speak of the general resemblance, or bare similitude, which may be thus spoken.  
But as the watery showers delay the raging wind,  
So doth good hope clean put away despair out of my mind.  
And in this other likening the forlorn lover to a stricken dear.  
Then as the stricken dear, withdraws himself alone,  
So do I seek some secret place, where I may make my moan.  
And in this of ours where we liken glory to a shadow.  
As the shadow (his nature being such,)  
Followeth the body, whether it will or no,  
So doth glory, refuse it near so much,  
Wait on virtue, be it in weal or woe.  
And even as the shadow in his kind,  
What time it bears the carcase company,  
Goes oft before, and often comes behind:  
So doth renown, that raiseth us so high,  
Come to us quick, sometime not till we die.  
But the glory, that growth not over fast,  
Is ever great, and likeliest long to last.  
Again in a ditty to a mistress of ours, where we likened the cure of Love to Achilles' lance.  
The lance so bright, that made Telephus wound,  
The same rusty, salved the sore again,  
So may my meed (Madam) of you redound,  
Whose rigour was first author of my pain.  
The Tuscan poet useth this Resemblance, enuring as well by Dissimilitude as Similitude, likening himself (by Implication) to the fly, and neither to the eagle nor to the owl: very well Englished by Sir Thomas Wyatt after his fashion, and by myself thus: 
There be some fowls of sight so proud and stark,  
As can behold the sun, and never shrink,  
Some so feeble, as they are feign to wink,  
Or never come abroad till it be dark:  
Others there be so simple, as they think,  
Because it shines, to sport them in the fire,  
And feel unware, the wrong of their desire,  
Fluttring amidst the flame that doth them burn,  
Of this last rank (alas) am I a right,  
For in my lady's looks to stand or turn  
I have no power, ne find place to retire,  
Where any dark may shade me from her sight  
But to her beams so bright whilst I aspire,  
I perish by the bane of my delight.   
Again in these likening a wise man to the true lover.  
As true love is content with his enjoy,  
And asketh no witness nor no record,  
And as faint love is evermore most coy,  
To boast and brag his troth at every word:  
Even so the wise withouten other meed:  
Contents him with the guilt of his good deed.  
And in this resembling the learning of an evil man to the seeds sown in barren ground.  
As the good seeds sown in fruitful soil,  
Bring forth foison when barren doth them spoil:  
So doth it far when much good learning hits,  
Upon shrewd wills and ill disposed wits.  
And in these likening the wise man to an idiot.  
A sage man said, many of those that come  
To Athens school for wisdom, ere they went  
They first seemed wise, than lovers of wisdom,  
Then Orators, than idiots, which is meant  
That in wisdom all such as profit most,  
Are least surly, and little apt to boast.  
Again, for a lover, whose credit upon some report had been shaken, he prayeth better opinion by similitude.  
After ill crop the soil must eft be sown,  
And fro shipwreck we sail to seas again,  
Then God forbidden whose fault hath once been known,  
Should for ever a spotted wight remain.  
And in this working by resemblance in a kind of dissimilitude between a father and a master.  
It fares not by fathers as by masters it doth far,  
For a foolish father may get a wise son,  
But of a foolish master it haps very rare  
Is bread a wise servant where ever he won.  
And in these, likening the wise man to the Giant, the fool to the Dwarf.  
Set the Giant deep in a dale, the dwarf upon an hill,  
Yet will the one be but a dwarf, th'other a giant still.  
So will the wise be great and high, even in the lowest place:  
The fool when he is most aloft, will seem but low and base.  

Icon. or Resemblance by imagery.  But when we liken an human person to another in countenance, stature, speech or other quality, it is not called bare resemblance, but resemblance by imagery or portrait, alluding to the painters term, who yieldeth to th'eye a visible representation of the thing he describes and painteth in his table. So we commending her Majesty for wisdom beauty and magnanimity likened her to the Serpent, the Lion and the Angel, because by common usurpation, nothing is wiser than the Serpent, more courageous than the Lion, more beautiful than the Angel. These are our verses in the end of the seventh Partheniade.  
Nature that seldom works amiss,  
In woman's breast by passing art:  
Hath lodged safe the lions heart,  
And featly fixed with all good grace,  
To Serpent's head an Angel's face.  
And this manner of resemblance is not only performed by likening of lively creatures one to another, but also of any other natural thing, bearing a proportion of similitude, as to liken yellow to gold, white to silver, red to the rose, soft to silk, hard to the stone and such like. Sir Philip Sidney in the description of his mistress excellently well handled this figure of resemblance by imagery, as ye may see in his book of Arcadia: and ye may see the like, of our doings, in a Partheniade written of our sovereign Lady, wherein we resemble every part of her body to some natural thing of excellent perfection in his kind, as of her forehead, brows and hair, thus. 
Of silver was her forehead high,  
Her brows two bows of hebenie,  
Her tresses trust were to behold  
Frizzled and fine as fringe of gold.   
And of her lips.  
Two lips wrought out of ruby rock,  
Like leaves to shut and to unlock.  
As portal door in Prince's chamber:  
A golden tongue in mouth of amber.  
And of her eyes.  
Her eyes God wots what stuff they are,  
I durst be sworn each is a star:  
As clear and bright as wont to guide  
The Pilot in his winter tide.  
And of her breasts.  
Her bosom sleake as Paris plaster,  
Held up two balls of alabaster,  
Each bias was a little cherry:  
Or else I think a strawberry.  
And all the rest that followeth, which may suffice to exemplify your figure of Icon, or resemblance by imagery and portrait.  
But whensoever by your similitude ye will seem to teach any morality or good lesson by speeches mystical and dark, 
Parabola. or Resemblance mystical.  or far fet, under a sense metaphorical applying one natural thing to another, or one case to another, inferring by them a like consequence in other cases the Greeks call it Parabola, which term is also by custom accepted of us: nevertheless we may call him in English the resemblance mystical: as when we liken a young child to a green twig which ye may easily bend every way ye list: or an old man who laboureth with continual infirmities, to a dry and dricksie oak. Such parables were all the preachings of Christ in the Gospel, as those of the wise and foolish virgins, of the evil steward, of the labourers in the vineyard, and a number more. And they may be feigned aswell as true: as those fables of Aesop, and other apologies invented for doctrine sake by wise and grave men.  
Finally, if in matter of counsel or persuasion we will seem to liken one case to another, such as pass ordinarily in man's affairs, 
Paradigma, or a resemblance by example.  and do compare the past with the present, gathering probability of like success to come in the things we have presently in hand: or if ye will draw the judgements precedent and authorized by antiquity as veritable, and peradventure feigned and imagined for some purpose, into similitude or dissimilitude with our present actions and affairs, it is called resemblance by example: as if one should say thus, Alexander the great in his expedition to Asia did thus, so did Hannibal coming into Spain, so did Caesar in Egypt, therefore all great Captains & Generals ought to do it.  
And thus again, It hath been always usual among great and magnanimous princes in all ages, not only to repulse any injury & invasion from their own realms and dominions, but also with a charitable & Princely compassion to defend their good neighbours Princes and potentates, from all oppression of tyrants & usurpers. So did the Romans by their arms restore many Kings of Asia and Africa expulsed out of their kingdoms. So did K. Edward 1. restablish Balliol rightful owner of the crown of Scotland against Robert le brus no lawful King. So did king Edward the third aid Dampeeter king of Spain against Henry bastard and usurper. So have many English Princes helped with their forces the poor Dukes of Britain their ancient friends and allies, against the outrages of the French kings: and why may not the Queen our sovereign Lady with like honour and godly zeal yield protection to the people of the Low countries, her nearest neighbours to rescue them a free people from the Spanish servitude.  
And as this resemblance is of one man's action to another, so may it be made by examples of bruit beasts, aptly corresponding in quality or event, as one that wrote certain pretty verses of the Emperor Maximinus, to warn him that he should not glory too much in his own strength, for so he did in very deed, and would take any common soldier to task at wrestling, or weapon, or in any other activity and feats of arms, which was by the wiser sort misliked, these were the verses.  
The Elephant is strong, yet death doth it subdue,  
The bull is strong, yet cannot death eschew.  
The Lion strong, and slain for all his strength:  
The Tiger strong, yet killed is at the length.  
Dread thou many, that dreadest not any one,  
Many can kill, that cannot kill alone.  
And so it fell out, for Maximinus was slain in a mutiny of his soldiers, taking no warning by these examples, written for his admonition.   

CHAP. XX.  
The last and principal figure of our poetical Ornament.  

Exargasia. or The Gorgeous.  FOr the glorious lustre it setteth upon our speech and language, the Greeks call it [Exargasia] the Latin [Expolitio] a term transferred from these polishers of marble or porphirite, who after it is rough hewn & reduced to that fashion they will, do set upon it a goodly glass, so smooth and clear 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 gorgeous apparel, seemeth to the common usage of th'eye much more comely & beautiful than the natural. So doth this figure (which therefore I call the Gorgeous) polish our speech & as it were attire it with copious & pleasant amplifications and much variety of sentences all running upon one point & to one intent: so as I doubt whether I may term it a figure, or rather a mass of many figurative speeches, applied to the beautifying of our tale or argument. In a work of ours entitled Philocalia we have strained to show the use & application of this figure and all others mentioned in this book, to which we refer you. I find none example in English metre, so well maintaining this figure as that ditty of her Majesties own making passing sweet and harmonical, which figure being as his very original name purporteth the most beautiful and gorgeous of all others, it asketh in reason to be reserved for a last complement, and desciphred by the art of a Lady's pen, herself being the most beautiful, or rather beauty of Queens. And this was the occasion: our sovereign Lady perceiving how by the Sc. Q. residence within this Realm at so great liberty and ease (as were scarce meet for so great and dangerous a prisoner) bred secret factions among her people, and made many of the nobility incline to favour her party: some of them desirous of innovation in the state: others aspiring to greater fortunes by her liberty and life. The Queen our sovereign Lady to declare that she was nothing ignorant of those secret practises, though she had long with great, wisdom and patience dissembled it, writeth this ditty most sweet and sententious, not hiding from all such aspiring minds the danger of their ambition and disloyalty: which afterward fell out most truly by th'exemplary chastisement of sundry persons, who in favour of the said Sc. Q. declining from her Majesty, sought to interrupt the quiet of the Realm by many evil and undutiful practises. The ditty is as followeth.  
The doubt of future foes, exiles my present joy,  
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy.  
For falsehood now doth flow, and subject faith doth ebb,  
Which would not be, if reason ruled or wisdom weued the web.  
But clouds of to is untried, do cloak aspiring minds,  
Which turn to reign of late repent, by course of changed winds.  
The top of hope supposed, the root of ruth will be,  
And fruitless all their graffed guiles, as shortly ye shall see.  
Then dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,  
shallbe unseeld by worthy wights, whose foresight falsehood finds.  
The daughter of debate, that eke discord doth sow  
Shall reap no gain where formor rule hath taught still peace to grow.  
No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port,  
Our realm it brooks no strangers force, let them elsewhere resort.  
Our rusty sword with rest, shall first his edge employ,  
To poll their tops that seek, such change and gape for joy.  
In a work of ours entitled [Philo Calia] where we entreat of the loves between prince Philo and Lady Calia, in their mutual letters, messages, and speeches: we have strained our muse to show the use and application of this figure, and of all others.   

CHAP. XXI.  
Of the vices or deformities in speech and writing principally noted by ancient Poets.  
IT hath been said before how by ignorance of the maker a good figure may become a vice, and by his good discretion, a vicious speech go for a virtue in the Poetical science. This saying is to be explained and qualified, for some manner of speeches are always intolerable and such as cannot be used with any decency, but are ever undecent namely barbarousness, incongruity, ill disposition, fond affectation, rusticity, and all extreme darkness, such as it is not possible for a man to understand the matter without an interpreter, all which parts are generally to be banished out of every language, unless it may appear that the maker or Poet do it for the nonce, as it was reported by the Philosopher Heraclitus that he wrote in obscure and dark terms of purpose not to be understood, whence he merited the nickname Scotinus, otherwise I see not but the rest of the common faults may be borne with sometimes, or pass without any great reproof, not being used overmuch or out of season as I said before: so as every surplusage or preposterous placing or undue iteration or dark word, or doubtful speech are not so narrowly to be looked upon in a large poem, nor specially in the pretty Poesies and devices of Ladies, and Gentlewomen makers, whom we would not have too precise Poets lest with their shrewd wits, when they were married they might become a little too fantastical wives, nevertheless because we seem to promise an art, which doth not justly admit any wilful error in the teacher, and to th'end we may not be carped at by these methodical men, that we have omitted any necessary point in this business to be regarded, I will speak somewhat touching these viciosities of language particularly and briefly, leaving no little to the Grammarians for maintenance of the scholastical war, and altercations: we for our part condescending in this devise of ours, to the appetite of Princely personages & other so tender & queasy complexions in Court, as are annoyed with nothing more than long lessons and overmuch good order.   

CHAP. XXII.  
Some vices in speeches and writing are always intolerable, some others now and then borne withal by licence of approved authors and custom.  
THe foulest vice in language is to speak barbarously: this term grew by the great pride of the Greeks and Latins, 
Barbarismus. or Foreign speech  when they were dominatours of the world reckoning no language so sweet and civil as their own, and that all nations beside themselves were rude and uncivil, which they called barbarous: So as when any strange word not of the natural Greek or Latin was spoken, in the old time they called it barbarism, or when any of their own natural words were sounded and pronounced with strange and ill shapen accents, or written by wrong orthography, as he that would say with us 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 mountains Appennines, Tramontani, as who would say Barbarous. This term being then so used by the ancient Greeks, there have been since, notwithstanding who have digged for the Etymology somewhat deeper, and many of them have said that it was spoken by the rude and barking language of the Africans now called Barbarians, who had great traffic with the Greeks and Romans, but that can not be so, for that part of Africa hath but of late received the name of Burbarie, and some others rather think that of this word Barbarous, that country came to be called Barbaria and but few years in respect agone. Others among whom is Ihan Leon a Moor of Granada, will seem to derive Barbaria, from this word Bar, twice iterated thus Barber, as much to say as fly, fly, which chanced in a persecution of the Arabians by some seditious mahometans in the time of their Pontif. Habdul mumi, when they were had in the chase, & driven out of Arabia Westward into the countries of Mauritania, & during the pursuit cried one upon another fly away, fly away, or pass pass, by which occasion they say, when the Arabians which were had in chase came to stay and settle themselves in that part of Africa, they called it Barber, as much to say, the region of their flight or pursuit. Thus much for the term, though not greatly pertinent to the matter, yet not unpleasant to know for them that delight in such niceties.  

Solecismus. or incongruity.  Your next intolerable vice is solecismus or incongruity, as when we speak false English, that is by misusing the Grammatical rules to be observed in cases, genders, tenses and such like, every poor scholar knows the fault, & calls it the breaking of Priscian's head, for he was among the Latins a principal Grammarian.  

Cacozelia. or Fond affectation.  Ye have another intolerable ill manner of speech, which by the Greeks original we may call fond affectation, and is when we affect new words and phrases other than the good speakers and writers in any language, or then custom hath allowed, & is the common fault of young scholars not half well studied before they come from the University or schools, and when they come to their friends, or happen to get some benefice or other promotion in their countries, will seem to coin fine words out of the Latin, and to use new fangled speeches, thereby to show themselves among the ignorant the better learned.  
Another of your intolerable vices is that which the Greeks call Soraismus, 
Soraismus. or The mingle mangle.  & we may call the [mingle mangle] as when we make our speech or writings of sundry languages using 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 using this French word Roy, to make rhyme with another verse, thus.  
O mighty Lord of love, dame Venus only joy,  
Whose Princely power exceeds each other heavenly roy.  
The verse is good but the term peevishly affected.  
Another of reasonable good facility in translation finding certain of the hymns of Pyndarus and of Anacreon's odes, and other Lirickes among the Greeks 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 apply them to the honour of a great noble man in England (wherein I commend his reverent mind and duty) but doth so impudently rob the French Poet both of his praise and also of his French terms, that I cannot so much pity him as be angry with him for his injurious dealing (our said maker not being ashamed to use these French words freddon, eager, superbous, filanding, celest, calabrois, thebanois a number of others, for English words, which have no manner of conformity with our language either by custom or derivation which may make them tolerable. And in the end (which is worst of all) makes his vaunt that never English finger but his hath touched Pindars string which was nevertheless word by word as Rounsard had said before by like braggery. These be his verses.  
And of an ingenious invention, infanted with pleasant travail.  
Whereas the French word is enfante as much to say borne as a child, in another verse he saith. 
I will freddon in thine honour.   
For I will shake or quiver my fingers, for so in French is freddon, and in another verse.  
But if I will thus like pindar,  
In many discourses eager.  
This word eager is as much to say as to wander or stray out of the way, which in our English is not received, nor these words calabrois, thebanois, but rather portuguese, theban [filanding sisters] for the spinning sisters: this man deserves to be indited of petty larceny for pilfering other men's devices from them & converting them to his own use, for in deed as I would wish every inventor which is the very Poet to receive the praises of his invention, so would I not have a translator be ashamed to be acknown of his translation.  

Cacosintheton or the Misplacer.  Another of your intolerable vices is ill disposition or placing of your words in a clause or sentence: as when you will place your adjective after your substantive, thus: Maid fair, widow rich, priest holy, and such like, which though the Latins did admit, yet our English did not, as one that said ridiculously.  
In my years lusty, many a deed doughty did I.  
All these remembered faults be intolerable and ever undecent.  

Cacemphaton. or the figure of foul speech.  Now have ye other vicious manners of speech, but sometimes and in some cases tolerable, and chief to the intent to move laughter, and to make sport, or to give it some pretty strange grace, and is when we use such words as may be drawn to a foul and unshamefast sense, as one that would say to a young woman, I pray you let me jape with 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 use this common Proverb, 
jape with me but hurt me not,  
Board with me but shame me not.   
For it may be taken in another perverser sense by that sort of persons that hear it, in whose ears no such matter ought almost to be called in memory, this vice is called by the Greeks Cacemphaton, we call it the unshamefast or figure of foul speech, which our courtly maker shall in any case shun, least of a Poet he become a Buffoon or railing companion, the Latins called him Scurra. There is also another sort of ill-favoured speech subject to this vice, but resting more in the manner of the ilshapen sound and accent, than for the matter itself, which may easily be avoided in choosing your words those that be of the pleasantest orthography, and not to rhyme too many like sounding words together.  
Ye have another manner of composing your metre nothing commendable, specially if it be too much used, 
Tautologia, or the figure of self saying.  and is when our maker takes too much delight to fill his verse with words beginning all with a letter, as an English rhymer that said: 
The deadly drops of dark disdain,  
Do daily drench my due deserts.   
And as the Monk we spoke of before, wrote a whole Poem to the honour of Carolus calvus, every word in his verse beginning with C, thus: 
Carmina clarisonae Caluis cantate camenae.   
Many of our English makers use it too much, yet we confess it doth not ill but prettily becomes the metre, if ye pass not two or three words in one verse, and use it not very much, as he that said by way of Epithet.  
The smoky sighs: the trickling tears.  
And such like, for such composition makes the metre run away smother, and passeth from the lips with more facility by iteration of a letter then by alteration, which alteration of a letter requires an exchange of ministry and office in the lips, teeth or palate, and so doth not the iteration.  
Your misplacing and preposterous placing is not all one in behaviour of language, for the misplacing is always intolerable, 
Histeron, proteron. or the Preposterous.  but the preposterous is a pardonable fault, and many times gives a pretty grace unto the speech. We call it by a common saying to set the cart before the horse, and it may be done, either by a single word or by a clause of speech: by a single word thus: 
And if I not perform, God let me never thrive.   
For perform not: and this vice is sometime tolerable enough, but if the word carry any notable sense, it is a vice not tolerable, as he that said praising a woman for her red lips, thus: 
A coral lip of hue.   
Which is no good speech, because either he should have said no more but a coral lip, which had been enough to declare the redness, or else he should have said, a lip of coral hue, and not a coral lip of hue. Now if this disorder be in a whole clause which carrieth more sentence than a word, it is then worst of all.  
Ye have another vicious speech which the Greeks call Acyron, we call it the uncouth, 
Acyron, or the Vncouthe.  and is when we use an obscure and dark word, and utterly repugnant to that we would express, if it be not by virtue of the figures metaphor, allegory, abusion, or such other laudable figure before remembered, as he that said by way of Epithet.  
A dungeon deep, a damp as dark as hell.  
Where it is evident that a damp being but a breath or vapour, and not to be discerned by the eye, ought not to have this epithet (dark,) no more than another that praising his mistress for her beautiful hair, said very improperly and with an uncouth term. 
Her hair surmounts Apollo's pride,  
In it such beauty reigns.   
Whereas this word reign is ill applied to the beauty of a woman's hair, and might better have been spoken of her whole person, in which beauty, favour, and good grace, may perhaps in some sort be said to reign as ourselves wrote, in a Partheniade praising her majesties countenance, thus: 
A cheer where love and Majesty do reign,  
Both mild and stern, etc.   
Because this word Majesty is a word expressing a certain Sovereign dignity, as well as a quality of countenance, and therefore may properly be said to reign, & requires no meaner a word to set him forth by. So it is not of the beauty that remains in a woman's hair, or in her hand or any other member: therefore when ye see all these improper or hard Epithets used, ye may put them in the number of [uncouths] as one that said, the floods of graces: I have heard of the floods of tears, and the floods of eloquence, or of any thing that may resemble the nature of a watercourse, and in that respect we say also, the streams of tears, and the streams of utterance, but not the streams of graces, or of beauty. Such manner of uncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to king Edward the fourth, which Tamner having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talk with him, at length perceiving by his train that it was the king, was afraid he should be punished for it, said thus with a certain rude repentance.  
I hope I shall be hanged to morrow.  
For [I fear me] I shall be hanged, whereat the king laughed a good, not only to see the Tanner's vain fear, but also to hear his ill shapen term, and gave him for recompense of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumton park, I am afraid the Poets of our time that speak more finely and correctedly will come too short of such a reward.  
Also the Poet or maker's speech becomes vicious and unpleasant by nothing more than by using 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 peradventure large sentences impertinently spoken, or with more labour and curiosity than is requisite. The first surplusge the Greeks call Pleonasmus, I call him [too full speech] and is no great fault, as if one should say, I heard it with mine ears, and saw it with mine eyes, as if a man could hear with his heels, or see with his nose. We ourselves used this superfluous speech in a verse written of our mistress, nevertheless, not much to be misliked, for even a vice sometime being seasonably used, hath a pretty grace, 
For ever may my true love live and never die 
Pleonasmus, or Too full speech   
And that mine eyes may see her crowned a Queen.   
As, if she lived ever▪ she could ever 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 use large clauses or sentences more than is requisite to the matter: it is also named by the Greeks Perissologia, as he that said, the Ambassadors after they had received this answer at the king's hands, they took their leave and returned home into their country from whence they came.  
So said another of our rhymers, meaning to show the great annoy and difficulty of those wars of Troy, caused for Helenas sake.  
Nor Menelaus was unwise,  
Or troop of Troyans' mad,  
When he with them and they with him,  
For her such combat had.  
These clauses (he with them and they with him) are surplusage, and one of them very impertinent, because it could not otherwise be intended, but that Menelaus, fight with the Troyans', the Troyans' must of necessity sight with him.  
Another point of surplusage lieth not so much in superfluity of your words, as of your travail to describe the matter which ye take in hand, and that ye overlabour yourself in your business. And therefore the Greeks call it Periergia, 
Periergia, or Ouerlabour, otherwise called the curious.  we call it over-labor, jump with the original: or rather [the curious] for his overmuch curiosity and study to show himself 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 metre cleanly. His intent was to declare how upon the tenth day of March he crossed the river of Thames, to walk in Saint George's field, the matter was not great as ye may suppose.  
The tenth of March when Aries received  
Dan Phoebus' rays into his horned head,  
And I myself by learned lore perceived  
That Ver approached and frosty winter fled  
I crossed the Thames to take the cheerful air,  
In open fields, the weather was so fair.  
First, the whole matter is not worth all this solemn circumstance to describe the tenth day of March, but if he had left at the two first verses, it had been enough. But when he comes with two other verses to enlarge his description, it is not only more than needs, but also very ridiculous, for he makes wise, as if he had not been a man learned in some of the mathematics (by learned lore) that he could not have told that the x. of March had fallen in the spring of the year: which every carter, and also every child knoweth without any learning. Then also when he saith [Ver approached, and frosty winter fled] though it were a surplusage (because one season must needs give place to the other) yet doth it well enough pass without blame in the maker. These, and a hundred more of such faulty and impertinent speeches may ye find amongst us vulgar Poets, when we be careless of our doings.  

Tapinosis, or the Abbaser.  It is no small fault in a maker to use such words and terms as do diminish and abbase the matter he would seem to set forth, by imparing the dignity, height vigour or majesty of the cause he takes in hand, as one that would say king Philip shrewdly harmed the town of S. Quintaines, when in deed he wan it and put it to the sack, and that king Henry the eight made spoils in Turwin, when as in deed he did more than spoil 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 words report of these two kings gests in that behalf, should greatly blemish the honour of their doings and almost speak untruly and injuriously by way of abbasement, as another of our bad rymers that very indecently said.  
A miser's mind thou hast, thou hast a Prince's pelf.  
A lewd term to be given to a Prince's treasure (pelf) and was a little more mannerly spoken by Sergeant Bendlowes, when in a progress time coming to salute the Queen in Huntingtonshire he said to her Cochman, stay thy cart good fellow, stay thy cart, that I may speak to the Queen, whereat her Majesty laughed as she had been tickled, and all the rest of the company although very graciously (as her manner is) she gave him great thanks and her hand to kiss. These and such other base words do greatly disgrace the thing & the speaker or writer: the Greeks call it [Tapinosis] we the [abbaser.]  
Others there be that fall into the contrary vice by using such bombasted words, as seem altogether farced full of wind, 
Bomphiologia, or Pompious speech.  being a great deal to high and lofty for the matter, whereof ye may find too many in all popular rymers.  
Then have ye one other vicious speech with which we will finish this Chapter, 
Amphibologia or the Ambiguous.  and is when we speak or write doubtfully and that the sense may be taken two ways, such ambiguous terms they call Amphibologia, we call it the ambiguous, or figure of sense incertain, as if one should say Thomas tailor saw William Tyler drunk, it is indifferent to think either th'one or th'other drunk. Thus said a gentleman in our vulgar prettily notwithstanding because he did it not ignorantly, but for the nonce.  
I sat by my Lady sound sleeping,  
My mistress lay by me butterly weeping.  
No man can tell by this, whether the mistress or the man, slept or wept: these doubtful speeches were used much in the old times by their false Prophets as appeareth by the Oracles of Delphos and and of the Sybilles' prophecies devised by the religious persons of those days to abuse the superstitious people, and to encumber their busy brains with vain hope or vain fear.  
Lucianus the merry Greek reciteth a great number of them, devised by a cozening companion one Alexander, to get himself the name and reputation of the God Aesculapius, and in effect all our old British and Saxon prophecies be of the same sort, that turn them on which side ye will, the matter of them may be verified, nevertheless carrieth generally such force in the heads of fond people, that by the comfort of those blind prophecies many insurrections and rebellions have been stirred up in this Realm, as that of jacke Straw, & jacke Cade in Richard the seconds time, and in our time by a seditious fellow in Norfolk calling himself Captain Ket and others in other places of the Realm lead altogether by certain prophetical rhymes, which might be construed two or three ways as well as to that one whereunto the rebels applied it, our maker shall therefore avoid all such ambiguous speeches unless it be when he doth it for the nonce and for some purpose.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
What it is that generally makes our speech well pleasing & commendable, and of that which the Latins call Decorum.  
IN all things to use decency, is it only that giveth every thing his good grace & without which nothing in man's speech could seem good or gracious, in so much as many times it makes a beautiful figure fall into a deformity, and on th'other side a vicious speech seem pleasant and beautiful: this decency is therefore the line & level for all good makers to do their business by. But herein resteth the difficulty, to know what this good grace is, & wherein it consisteth, for peradventure it be easier to conceive then to express, we will therefore examine it to the bottom & say: that every thing which pleaseth the mind or senses, & the mind by the senses as by means instrumental, doth it for some amiable point or quality that is in it, which draweth them to a good liking and contentment with their proper objects. But that cannot be if they discover any illfavorednesse or disproportion to the parts apprehensive, as for example, when a sound is either too loud or too low or otherwise confuse, the ear is ill affected: so is th'eye if the colour be sad or not liminous and recreative, or the shape of a membered body without his due measures and symmetry, and the like of every other sense in his proper function. These excesses or defects or confusions and disorders in the sensible objects are deformities and unseemly to the sense. In like sort the mind for the things that be his mental objects hath his good graces and his bad, whereof th'one contents him wondrous well, th'other displeaseth him continually, no more nor no less than ye see the discords of music do to a well tuned ear. The Greeks call this good grace of every thing in his kind, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the latins [decorum] we in our vulgar call it by a scholastical term [decency] our own Saxon English term is [seemliness] that is to say, for his good shape and utter appearance well pleasing the eye, we call it also [comeliness] for the delight it bringeth coming towards us, and to that purpose may be called [pleasant approach] so as every way seeking to express this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the Greeks and decorum of the Latins, we are feign in our vulgar tongue to borrow the term which our eye only for his noble prerogative over all the rest of the senses doth usurp, and to apply the same to all good, comely, pleasant and honest things, even to the spiritual objects of the mind, which stand no less in the due proportion of reason and discourse than any other material thing doth in his sensible beauty, proportion and comeliness.  
Now because this comeliness resteth in the good conformity of many things and their sundry circumstances, with respect one to another, so as there be found a just correspondency between them by this or that relation, the Greeks call it Analogy or a convenient proportion. This lovely conformity, or proportion, or conveniency between the sense and the sensible hath nature herself first most carefully observed in all her own works, than also by kind graft it in the appetites of every creature working by intelligence to covet and desire: and in their actions to imitate & perform: and of man chief before any other creature aswell in his speeches as in every other part of his behaviour. And this in generality and by an usual term is that which the Latins call [decorum.] So albeit we before alleged that all our figures be but transgressions of our daily speech, yet if they fall out decently to the good liking of the mind or ear and to the beautifying of the matter or language, all is well, if indecently, and to the ears and minds misliking (be the figure of itself never so commendable) all is amiss, the election is the writers, the judgement is the worlds, as theirs to whom the reading appertaineth. But since the actions of man with their circumstances be infinite, and the world likewise replenished with many judgements, it may be a question who shall have the determination of such controversy as may arise whether this or that action or speech be decent or indecent: and verily it seems to go all by discretion, not perchance of every one, but by a learned and experienced discretion, for otherwise seems the decorum to a weak and ignorant judgement, than it doth to one of better knowledge and experience: which showeth that it resteth in the discerning part of the mind, so as he who can make the best and most differences of things by reasonable and witty distinction is to be the fittest judge or sentencer of [decency.] Such generally is the discreetest man, particularly in any art the most skilful and discreetest, and in all other things for the more part those that be of much observation and greatest experience. The case then standing that discretion must chief guide all those business, since there be sundry sorts of discretion all unlike, even as there be men of action or art, I see no way so fit to enable a man truly to estimate of [decency] as example, by whose verity we may deem the differences of things and their proportions, and by particular discussions come at length to sentence of it generally, and also in our behaviours the more easily to put it in execution. But by reason of the sundry circumstances, that man's affairs are as it were wrapped in, this [decency] comes to be very much alterable and subject to variety, in so much as our speech asketh one manner of decency, in respect of the person who speaks: another of his to whom it is spoken: another of whom we speak: another of what we speak, and in what place and time and to what purpose. And as it is of speech, so of all other our behaviours. We will therefore set you down some few examples of every circumstance how it altars the decency of speech or action. And by these few shall ye be able to gather a number more to confirm and establish your judgement by a perfect discretion.  
This decency, so farfoorth as appertaineth to the consideration of our art, resteth in writing, speech and behaviour. But because writing is no more than the image or character of speech, they shall go together in these our observations. And first we will sort you out divers points, in which the wise and learned men of times past have noted much decency or undecency, every man according to his discretion, as it hath been said afore: but wherein for the most part all discreet men do generally agree, and vary not in opinion, whereof the examples I will give you be worthy of remembrance: & though they brought with them no doctrine or institution at all, yet for the solace they may give the readers, after such a rabble of scholastical precepts which be tedious, these reports being of the nature of matters historical, they are to be embraced: but old memories are very profitable to the mind, and serve as a glass to look upon and behold the events of time, and more exactly to skan the truth of every case that shall happen in the affairs of man, and many there be that haply do not observe every particularity in matters of decency or undecency: and yet when the case is told them by another man, they commonly give the same sentence upon it. But yet whosoever observeth much, shallbe counted the wisest and discreetest man, and whosoever spends all his life in his own vain actions and conceits, and observes no man's else, he shall in the end prove but a simple man. In which respect it is always said, one man of experience is wiser than ten learned men, because of his long and studious observation and often trial.  
And your decencies are of sundry sorts, according to the many circumstances accompanying our writing, speech or behaviour, so as in the very sound or voice of him that speaketh, there is a decency that becometh, and an undecency that misbecommeth us, which th'Emperor Anthonine marked well in the Orator Philiseus, who spoke 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.  
Phavorinus the Philosopher was counted very wise and well learned, but a little too talkative and full of words: for the which Timocrates reproved him in the hearing of one Polemon. That is no wonder quoth Polemon, for so be all women. And beside, Phavorinus being known for an Eunuch or gelded man, came by the same nip to be noted as an effeminate and degenerate person.  
And there is a measure to be used in a man's speech or tale, so as it be neither for shortness too dark, nor for length too tedious. Which made Cleomenes king of the Lacedæmonians give this unpleasant answer to the Ambassadors of the Samiens, who had told him a long message from their City, and desired to know his pleasure in it. My masters (saith he) the first part of your tale was so long, that I remember it not, which made that the second I understood not, and as for the third part I do nothing well allow of. Great princes and grave counsellors who have little spare leisure to hearken, would have speeches used to them such as be short and sweet.  
And if they be spoken by a man of account, or one who for his years, profession or dignity should be thought wise & reverend, his speeches & words should also be grave, pithy & sententious, which was well noted by king Antiochus, who likened Hermogenes the famous Orator of Greece, unto these fowls in their moulting time, when their feathers be sick, and be so lose in the flesh that at any little rouse they can easily shake them off: so saith he, can Hermogenes of all the men that ever I knew, as easily deliver from him his vain and impertinent speeches and words.  
And there is a decency, that every speech should be to the appetite and delight, or dignity of the hearer & not for any respect arrogant or undutiful, as was that of Alexander sent Ambassador from the Athenians to th'emperor Marcus, this man seeing th'emperor not so attentive to his tale, as he would have had him, said by way of interruption, Caesar I pray thee give me better ear, it seemest thou knowest me not, nor from whom I came: the Emperor nothing well liking his bold malapert speech, said: thou art deceived, for I hear thee and know well enough, that thou art that fine, foolish, curious, saucy Alexander that tendest to nothing but to comb & cury thy hair, to pair thy nails, to pick thy teeth, and to perfume thyself with sweet oils, that no man may abide the sent of thee. Proud speeches, and too much finesse and curiosity is not commendable in an Ambassador. And I have known in my time such of them, as studied more upon what apparel they should wear, and what countenances they should keep at the times of their audience, than they did upon th'effect of their errant or commission.  
And there is decency in that every man should talk of the things they have best skill of, and not in that, their knowledge and learning serveth them not to do, as we are wont to say, he speaketh of Robin hood that never shot in his bow: there came a great Orator before Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, and uttered much matter to him touching fortitude and valiancy in the wars: the king laughed: why laughest thou quoth the learned man, since thou art a king thyself, and one whom fortitude best becometh? why said Cleomenes would it not make any body laugh, to hear the swallow who feeds only upon flies, to boast of his great prey, and see the eagle stand by and say nothing? if thou wert a man of war or ever hadst been day of thy life, I would not laugh to hear thee speak of valiancy, but never being so, & speaking before an old captain I can not choose but laugh.  
And some things and speeches 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 book treating all of justice, the king that time lying at the siege of a town, who looked upon the title of the book, and cast it to him again: saying, what a devil tellest thou to me of justice, now thou seest me use force and do the best I can to bereave mine enemy of his town? every thing hath his season which is called Opportunity, and the unfitness or undecency of the time is called Importunity.  
Sometime the undeceny ariseth by the indignity of the word in respect of the speaker himself, as when a daughter of France and next heir general to the crown (if the law Salic had not barred her) being set in a great chaufe by some hard words given her by another prince of the blood, said in her anger, thou durst not have said thus much to me if God had given me a pair of, etc. and told all out, meaning if God had made her a man and not a woman she had been king of France. The word became not the greatness of her person, and much less her sex, whose chief virtue is shamefastness, which the Latins call Verecundia, that is a natural fear to be noted with any impudicitie: so as when they hear 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 savouring some skurrillity and unshamefastness have now and then a certain decency, 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 himself is known to be a common jester or buffoon, such as take upon them to make princes merry, or when some occasion is given by the hearer to induce such a pleasant speech, and in many other cases whereof no general rule can be given, but are best known by example: as when Sir Andrew Flamock king Henry the eights standardbearer, a merry conceited man and apt to scoff, waiting one day at the king's heels when he entered the park at Greenwich, the king blew his horn, Flamock having his belly full, and his tail at commandment, gave out a rap nothing faintly, that the king turned him about and said how now sirrah? Flamock not well knowing how to excuse his unmannerly act, if it please you Sir quoth he, your Majesty blew one blast for the keeper and I another for his man. The king laughed heartily and took it nothing offensively: for indeed as the case fell out it was not undecently spoken by Sir Andrew Flamock, for it was the cleanliest excuse he could make, and a merry implicative in terms nothing odious, and therefore a sporting satisfaction to the king's mind, in a matter which without some such merry answer could not have been well taken. So was Flamocks action most uncomely, but his speech excellently well becoming the occasion.  
But at another time and in another like case, the same skurrillitie of Flamock was more offensive, because it was more indecent. As when the king having Flamock with him in his barge, passing from Westminster to Greenwich to visit a fair Lady whom the king loved and was lodged in the tower of the Park: the king coming within sight of the tower, and being disposed to be merry, said, Flamock let us rhyme: as well as I can said Flamock if it please your grace. The king began thus: 
Within this tower,  
There lieth a flower,  
That hath my heart.   
Flamock for answer: Within this hour, she will, etc. with the rest in so uncleanly terms, as might not now become me by the rule of Decorum to utter writing to so great a Majesty, but the king took them in so evil part, as he bid Flamock avant varlet, and that he should no more be so near unto him. And wherein I would feign learn, lay this undecency? in the skurrill and filthy terms not meet for a king's care? perchance so. For the king was a wise and grave man, and though he hated not a fair woman, yet liked he nothing well to hear speeches of ribaldry: as they report of th'emperor Octavian: Licet fuerit ipse incontinentissimus, fuit tamen incontinente severissimus ultor. But the very cause in deed was for that Flamocks reply answered not the king's expectation, for the king's rhyme commencing with a pleasant and amorous proposition: Sir Andrew Flamock to finish it not with love but with loathsomeness, by terms very rude and uncivil, and seeing the king greatly favour that Lady for her much beauty by like or some other good parts, by his fastidious answer to make her seem odious to him, it held a great disproportion to the king's appetite, for nothing is so unpleasant to a man, as to be encountered in his chief affection, & specially in his loves, & whom we honour we should also reverence their appetites, or at the least bear with them (not being wicked and utterly evil) and whatsoever they do affect, we do not as becometh us if we make it seem to them horrible. This in mine opinion was the chief cause of the undecency and also of the king's offence. Aristotle the great philosopher knowing this very well, what time he put Calisthenes to king Alexander the greats service gave him this lesson. Sirrah quoth he, ye go now from a scholar to be a courtier, see ye speak to the king your master, either nothing at all, or else that which pleaseth him, which rule if Calisthenes had followed and forborn to cross the king's appetite in diverse speeches, it had not cost him so deeply as afterward it did. A like matter of offence fell out between th'emperor Charles the fifth, & an Ambassador of king Henry the eight, whom I could name but will not for the great opinion the world had of his wisdom and sufficiency in that behalf, and all for misusing of a term. The king in the matter of controversy betwixt him and Lady Catherine of Castill the emperors awnt, found himself grieved that the Emperor should take her part and work under hand with the Pope to hinder the divorce: and gave his Ambassador commission in good terms to open his griefs to the Emperor, and to expostulat with his Majesty, for that he seemed to forget the kings great kindness and friendship before times used with th'emperor, aswell by disbursing for him sundry great sums of money which were not all yet repaid: as also by furnishing him at his need with store of men and munition to his wars, and now to be thus used he thought it a very evil requital. The Ambassador for too much animosity and more than needed in the case, or perchance by ignorance of the propriety of the Spanish tongue, told the Emperor among other words, that he was Hombre el mas ingrato enel mondo, the ingratest person in the world to use his master so. The Emperor took him suddenly with the word, and said: callest thou me ingrato? I tell thee learn better terms, or else I will teach them thee. Th'ambassador excused it by his commission, and said: they were the king his masters words, and not his own. Nay quoth th'emperor, thy master durst not have sent me these words, were it not for that broad ditch between him & me, meaning the sea, which is hard to pass with an army of revenge. The Ambassador was commanded away & no more hard by the Emperor, till by some other means afterward the grief was either pacified or forgotten, & all this inconvenience grew by misuse of one word, which being otherwise spoken & in some sort qualified, had easily helped all, & yet th'ambassador might sufficiently have satisfied his commission & much better advanced his purpose, as to have said for this word [ye are ingrate,] ye have not used such gratitude towards him as he hath deserved: so ye may see how a word spoken undecently, not knowing the phrase or propriety of a language, maketh a whole matter many times miscarry. In which respect it is to be wished, that none Ambassador speak his principal commandments but in his own language or in another as natural to him as his own, and so it is used in all places of the world saving in England. The Princes and their commissioners fearing lest otherwise they might utter any thing to their disadvantage, or else to their disgrace: and I myself having seen the Courts of France, Spain, Italy, and that of the Empire, with many inferior Courts, could never perceive that the most noble personages, though they knew very well how to speak many foreign languages, would at any times that they had been spoken unto, answer but in their own, 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 fear of any lapse, I cannot tell. And Henry Earl of Arundel being an old Courtier and a very princely man in all his actions, kept that rule always. For on a time passing from England towards Italy by her majesties licence, he was very honourably entertained at the Court of Brussels, by the Lady Duchess 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 Earl, though he could reasonably well speak French, would not speak 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 marveling at it, looked a side on that part where I stood a beholder of the feast, and said, I marvel your Noblemen of England do not desire to be better languaged in the foreign languages. This word was by and by reported to the Earl. Quoth the Earl again, tell my Lord the Prince, that I love to speak in that language, in which I can best utter my mind and not mistake.  
Another Ambassador used the like oversight by overweening himself that he could naturally speak the French tongue, whereas in troth he was not skilful in their terms. This Ambassador being a Bohemian, sent from the Emperor to the French Court, where after his first audience, he was highly feasted and banqueted. On a time, among other, a great Princess sitting at the table, by way of talk asked the Ambassador whether the Empress his his mistress when she went a hunting, or otherwise travailed abroad for her solace, did ride a horseback or go in her coach. To which the Ambassador answered unwares and not knowing the French term, Par ma foy elle chevauche fort bien, & si en prend grand plaisir. She rides (saith he) very well, and takes great pleasure in it. There was good smiling one upon another of the Ladies and Lords, the Ambassador witted not whereat, but laughed himself for company. This word Chevaucher in the French tongue hath a reprobate sense, specially being spoken of a woman's riding.  
And as rude and uncivil speeches carry a marvelous great indecency, so do sometimes those that be overmuch affected and nice: or that do savour of ignorance or adulation, and be in the ear of grave and wise persons no less offensive than the other: as when a suitor in Rome came to Tiberius the Emperor and said, I would open my case to your Majesty, if it were not to trouble your sacred business, sacras vestras occupationes as the Historiographer reporteth. What meanest thou by that term quoth the Emperor, say laboriosas I pray thee, & so thou mayst truly say, and bid him leave off such affected flattering terms.  
The like undecency used a Herald at arms sent by Charles the fifth Emperor, to France's the first French king, bringing him a message of defiance, and thinking to qualify the bitterness of his message with words pompous and magnificent for the king's honour, used much this term (sacred Majesty) which was not usually given 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 claw me not where I itch not with thy sacred majesty, but go to thy business, and tell thine errand in such terms as are decent betwixt enemies, for thy master is not my friend, and turned him to a Prince of the blood who stood by, saying, me thinks this fellow speaks like Bishop Nicholas, for on Saint Nicholas night commonly the Scholars of the Country make them a Bishop, who like a foolish boy, goeth about blessing and preaching with so childish terms, as maketh the people laugh at his foolish counterfeit speeches.  
And yet in speaking or writing of a Prince's affairs & fortunes there is a certain Decorum, that we may not use the same terms in their business, as we might very well do in a meaner persons, the case being all one, such reverence is due to their estates. As for example, if an Historiographer shall write of an Emperor or King, how such a day he joined battle with his enemy, and being over-laide ran out of the field, and took his heels, or put spur to his horse and fled as fast as he could: the terms be not decent, but of a mean soldier or captain, it were not undecently spoken. And as one, who translating certain books of Virgil's Aeneidos into English metre, said that Aeneas was fain to trudge out of Troy: which term became better to be spoken of a beggar, or of a rogue, or a lackey: for so we use to say to such manner of people, be trudging hence.  
Another Englishing this word of Virgil [fato profugus] called Aeneas [by fate a fugitive] which was undecently spoken, and not to the Authors intent in the same word: for whom he studied by all means to advance above all other men of the world for virtue and magnanimity, he meant not to make him a fugitive. But by occasion of his great distresses, and of the hardness of his destinies, he would have it appear that Aeneas was enforced to fly out of Troy, and for many years to be a romer and a wandrer about the world both by land and sea [fato profugus] and never to find any resting place till he came into Italy, so as ye may evidently perceive in this term [fugitive] a notable indignity offered to that princely person, and by th'other word (a wanderer) none indignity at all, but rather a term of much love and commiseration. The same translator when he came to these words: Insignem pietate virum, tot volvere casus tot adire labores compulit. He turned it thus, what moved juno to tug so great a captain as Aeneas, which word tug spoken in this case is so undecent as none other could have been devised, and took his first original from the cart, because it signifieth the pull or draft of the oxen or horses, and therefore the leathers that bear the chief stress of the draft, the cartars call them tugs, and so we use to say that shrewd boys tug each other by the ears, for pull.  
Another of our vulgar makers, spoke as illfaringly in this verse written to the dispraise of a rich man and covetous. Thou hast a miser's mind (thou hast a prince's pelf] a lewd term to be spoken of a prince's treasure, which in no respect nor for any cause is to be called pelf, though it were never so mean, for pelf is properly the scraps or shreds of tailors and of skinner's, which are accounted of so vile price as they be commonly cast out of doors, or otherwise bestowed upon base purposes: and carrieth not the like reason or decency, as when we say in reproach of a niggard or usurer, or worldly covetous man, that he setteth more by a little pelf of the world, than by his credit or health, or conscience. For in comparison of these treasures all the gold or silver in the world may by a scornful term be called pelf, & so ye see that the reason of the decency holdeth not alike in both cases. Now let us pass from these examples, to treat of those that concern the comeliness and decency of man's behaviour.  
And some speech may be when it is spoken very undecent, and yet the same having afterward somewhat added to it may become pretty and decent, as was the stout word used by a captain in France, who sitting at the lower end of the Duke of Guyses' table among many, the day after there had been a great battle fought, the Duke finding that this captain was not seen that day to do any thing in the field, taxed him privily thus in all the hearings. Where were you Sir the day of the battle, for I saw ye not? the captain answered promptly: where ye durst not have been: and the Duke began to kindle with the word, which the Gentleman perceiving, said speedily: I was that day among the carriages, where your excellency would not for a thousand crowns have been seen. Thus from undecent it came by a witty reformation to be made decent again.  
The like happened on a time at the Duke of northumberlands board, where merry john Heywood was allowed to sit at the table's end. The Duke had a very noble and honourable mind always 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 days before. Heywood being loath to call for his drink so oft as he was dry, turned his eye toward the cupboard and said I find great miss of your graces standing cups: the Duke thinking he had spoken it of some knowledge that his plate was lately sold, said somewhat sharply, why Sir will not those cups serve as good a man as yourself. Heywood readily replied. Yes if it please your grace, but I would have one of them stand still at mine elbow full of drink that I might not be driven to trouble your men so often to call for it. This pleasant and speedy reverses of the former words holp all the matter again, whereupon the Duke became very pleasant and drank a bowl of wine to Heywood, and bid a cup should always be standing by him.  
It were to busy a piece of work for me to tell you of all the parts of decency and indecency which have been observed in the speeches of man & in his writings, and this that I tell you is rather to solace your ears with pretty conceits after a sort of long scholastical precepts which may happen have doubled them, rather than for any other purpose of institution or doctrine, which to any Courtier of experience, is not necessary in this behalf. And as they appear by the former examples to rest in our speech and writing: so do the same by like proportion consist in the whole behaviour of man, and that which he doth well and commendably is ever decent, and the contrary undecent, not in every man's judgement always one, but after their several discretion and by circumstance diversly, as by the next Chapter shallbe showed.   

CHAP. XXIIII.  
Of decency in behaviour which also belongs to the consideration of the Poet or maker.  
ANd there is a decency to be observed in every man's action & behaviour aswell as in his speech & writing which some peradventure would think impertinent to be treated of in this book, where we do but inform the commendable fashions of language & style: but that is otherwise, for the good maker or poet who is in decent speech & good terms to describe all things and with praise or dispraise to report every man's behaviour, aught to know the comeliness of an action aswell as of a word & thereby to direct himself both in praise & persuasion or any other point that pertaineth to the Orators art. Wherefore some examples we will set down of this manner of decency in behaviour leaving you for the rest to our book which we have written de Decoro, where ye shall see both parts handled more exactly. And this decency of man's behaviour aswell as of his speech 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 seemly to be done in this place is not so seemly in that, and at such a time decent, but at another time undecent, and in such a case and for such a purpose, and to this and that end and by this and that event, perusing all the circumstances with like consideration. Therefore we say that it might become king Alexander to give a hundredth talentes to Anaxagoras the Philosopher, but not for a beggarly Philosopher to accept so great a gift, for such a Prince could not be impoverished by that expense, but the Philosopher was by it excessively to be enriched, so was the king's 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 whatsoever it might become king Alexander of his regal largesse to bestow upon a poor Philosopher unasked, that might aswell become the Philosopher to receive at his hands without refusal, and had otherwise been some empeachement of the king's ability or wisdom, which had not been decent in the Philosopher, nor the immoderatnesse of the kings gift in respect of the Philosophers mean estate made his acceptance the less decent, since Prince's liberalities are not measured by merit nor by other men's estimations, but by their own appetits and according to their greatness. So said king Alexander very like himself to one Perillus to whom he had given a very great gift, which he made courtesy to accept, saying it was too much for such a mean person, what quoth the king if it be too much for thyself, hast thou never a friend or kinsman that may far the better by it? But peradventure if any such immoderate gift had been craved by the Philosopher and not voluntarily offered by the king it had been undecent to have taken it. Even so if one that standeth upon his merit, and spares to crave the Prince's liberality in that which is moderate and fit for him, doth as undecently. For men should not expect till the Prince remembered it of himself and began as it were the gratification, but aught to be put in remembrance by humble solicitations, and that is dutiful & decent, which made king Henry th'eight her majesties most noble father, and for liberality nothing inferior to king Alexander the great, answer one of his privy chamber, who prayed him to be good & gracious to a certain old Knight being his servant, for that he was but an ill beggar, if he be ashamed to beg we will think scorn to give. And yet peradventure in both these cases, the undecency for too much craving or sparing to crave, might be easily helped by a decent magnificence in the Prince, as Amazis' king of Egypt very honourably considered, who ask one day for one Diopithus a noble man of his Court, what was become of him for that he had not seen him wait of long time, one about the king told him that he heard say he was sick and of some conceit he had taken that his Majesty had but slenderly looked to him, using many others very bountifully. I beshrew his fools head quoth the king, why had he not sued unto us and made us privy of his want, then added, but in truth we are most to blame our selves, who by a mindful beneficence without suit should have supplied his bashfulness, and forthwith commanded a great reward in money & pension to be sent unto him, but it happened that when the king's messengers entered the chamber of Diopithus, he had newly given up the ghost: the messengers sorrowed the case, and Diopithus friends sat by and wept, not so much for Diopithus death, as for pity that he overlived not the coming of the king's reward. Thereupon it came ever after to be used for a proverb that when any good turn cometh too late to be used, to call it Diopithus reward.  
In Italy and France I have known it used for common policy, the Princes to differre the bestowing of their great liberalities as Cardinalships and other high dignities & offices of gain, till the parties whom they should seem to gratify be so old or so sick as it is not likely they should long enjoy them.  
In the time of Charles the ninth French king, I being at the Spa waters, there lay a Marshal of France called Monsieur de Sipier, to use those waters for his health, but when the Physicians had all given him up, and that there was no hope of life in him, came from the king to him a letters patents of six thousand crowns yearly pension during his life with many comfortable words: the man was not so much past remembrance, but he could say to the messenger trop tard, trop tard, it should have come before, for in deed it had been promised long and came not till now that he could not far the better by it.  
And it became king Antiochus, better to bestow the fair Lady Stratonica his wife upon his son Demetrius who lay sick for her love and would else have perished, as the Physicians cunningly discovered by the beating of his pulse, than it could become Demetrius to be enamoured with his father's wife, or to enjoy her of his gift, because the father's act was led by discretion and of a fatherly compassion, not grudging to departed from his dearest possession to save his child's life, where as the son in his appetite had no reason to lead him to love unlawfully, for whom it had rather been decent to die, then to have violated his father's bed with safety of his life.  
No more would it be seemly for an aged man to play the wanton like a child, for it stands not with the conveniency of nature, yet when king Agesilaus having a great sort of little children, was one day disposed to solace himself among them in a gallery where they played, and took a little hobby horse of wood and bestrid it to keep them in play, one of his friends seemed to mislike his lightness, o good friend quoth Agesilaus, rebuke me not for this fault till thou have children of thine own, showing in deed that it came not of vanity but of a fatherly affection, joying in the sport and company of his little children, in which respect and as that place and time served, it was dispenceable in him & not indecent.  
And in the choice of a man's delights & manner of his life, there is a decency, and so we say th'old man generally is no fit companion for the young man, nor the rich for the poor, nor the wise for the foolish. Yet in some respects and by discretion it may be otherwise, as when the old man hath the government of the young, the wise teaches the foolish, the rich is waited on by the poor for their relief, in which regard the conversation is not indecent.  
And Proclus the Philosopher knowing how every indecency is unpleasant to nature, and namely, how uncomely a thing it is for young men to do as old men do (at leastwise as young men for the most part do take it) applied it very wittily to his purpose: for having his son and heir a notable unthrift, & delighting in nothing but in hawks and hounds, and gay apparel, and such like vanities, which neither by gentle nor sharp admonitions of his father, could make him leave: Proclus himself not only bare with his son, but also used it himself for company, which some of his friends greatly rebuked him for, saying, o Proclus, an old man and a Philosopher to play the fool and lascivious more than the son. Marry, quoth Proclus, & therefore I do it, for it is the next way to make my son change his life, when he shall see how undecent it is in me to lead such a life, and for him being a young man, to keep company with me being an old man, and to do that which I do.  
So is it not unseemly for any ordinary Captain to win the victory or any other advantage in war by fraud & breach of faith: as Hannibal with the Romans, but it could not well become the Romans managing so great an Empire, by examples of honour and justice to do as Hannibal did. And when Parmenio in a like case persuaded king Alexander to break the day of his appointment, and to set upon Darius at the sudden, which Alexander refused to do, Parmenio saying, I would do it if I were Alexander, and I too quoth Alexander if I were Parmenio: but it behoveth me in honour to fight liberally with mine enemies, and justly to overcome. And thus ye see that was decent in Parmenio's action, which was not in the king his masters.  
A great nobleman and Counsellor in this Realm was secretly advised by his friend, not to use so much writing his letters in favour of every man that asked them, specially to the judges of the Realm in cases of justice. To whom the noble man answered, it becomes us Councillors better to use instance for our friend, then for the judges to sentence at instance: for whatsoever we do require them, it is in their choice to refuse to do, but for all that the example was ill and dangerous.  
And there is a decency in choosing the times of a man's business, and as the Spaniard says, es tiempo de negotiar, there is a fit time for every man to perform his business in, & to attend his affairs, which out of that time would be undecent: as to sleep all day and wake all night, and to go a hunting by torchlight, as an old Earl of Arundel used to do, or for any occasion of little importance, to wake a man out of his sleep, or to make him rise from his dinner to talk with him, or such like importunities, for so we call every unseasonable action, and the undecency of the time.  
Callicratides being sent Ambassador by the Lacedæmonians, to Cirus the young king of Persia to contract with him for money and men toward their wars against the Athenians, came to the Court at such unseasonable time as the king was yet in the midst of his dinner, and went away again saying, it is now no time to interrupt the king's mirth. He came again another day in the after noon, and finding the king at a rere-banquet, and to have taken the wine somewhat plentifully, turned back again, saying, I think there is no hour fit to deal with Cirus, for he is ever in his banquets: I will rather leave all the business undone, then do any thing that shall not become the Lacedæmonians: meaning to offer conference of so great importance to his Country, with a man so distempered by surfeit, as he was not likely to give him any reasonable resolution in the cause.  
One Eudamidas brother to king Agis of Lacedemonia, coming by Zenocrate's school and looking in, saw him sit in his chair, disputing with a long hoar beard, asked who it was, one answered, Sir it is a wise man and one of them that searches after virtue, and if he have not yet found it quoth Eudamidas when will he use it, that now at this years is seeking after it, as who would say it is not time to talk of matters when they should be put in execution, nor for an old man to be to seek what virtue is, which all his youth he should have had in exercise.  
Another time coming to hear a notable Philosopher dispute, it happened, that all was ended even as he came, and one of his familiars would have had him requested the Philosopher to begin again, that were indecent and nothing civil quoth Eudamidas, for if he should come to me supperless when I had supped before, were it seemly for him to pray me to sup again for his company?  
And the place makes a thing decent or indecent, in which consideration one Euboidas being sent Ambassador into a foreign realm, some of his familiars took occasion at the table to praise the wives and women of that country in presence of their own husbands, which th'ambassador misliked, and when supper was ended and the guests departed, took 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 husband's face, for inconveniency that might rise thereby, aswell to the praiser as to the woman, and that the chief commendation of a chaste matron, was to be known only to her husband, and not to be observed by strangers and guests.  
And in the use of apparel there is no little decency and undecency to be perceived, as well for the fashion as the stuff, for it is comely that every estate and vocation should be known by the differences of their habit: a clerk from a lay man: a gentleman from a yeoman: a soldier from a citizen, and the chief of every degree from their inferiors, because in confusion and disorder there is no manner of decency.  
The Romans of any other people most severe censurers of decency, thought no upper garment so comely for a civil man as a long playted gown, because it showeth much gravity & also pudicitie, hiding every member of the body which had not been pleasant to behold. In somuch as a certain Proconsul or Legate of theirs dealing one day with Ptolemy king of Egypt, seeing him clad in a strait narrow garment very lasciviously, discovering every part of his body, gave him a great check for it: and said, that unless he used more sad and comely garments, the Romans would take no pleasure to hold amity with him, for by the wantonness of his garment they would judge the vanity of his mind, not to be worthy of their constant friendship. A pleasant old courtier wearing one day in the sight of a great councillor, after the new guise a french cloak scarce reaching to the waist, a long beaked doublet hanging down to his thighs, & an high pair of silk nether-stocks that covered all his buttocks and loignes the Councillor marveled to see him in that sort disguised, and otherwise than he had been wont to be. Sir quoth the Gentleman to excuse it: if I should not be able when I had need to piss out of my doublet, and to do the rest in my nether-stocks (using the plain term) all men would say I were but a lout, the Councillor laughed heartily at the absurdity of the speech, but what would those sour fellows of Rome have said trow ye? truly in mine opinion, that all such persons as take pleasure to show their limbs, specially those that nature hath commanded out of sight, should be enjoined either to go stark naked, or else to resort back to the comely and modest fashion of their own country apparel, used by their old honourable ancestors.  
And there is a decency of apparel in respect of the place where it is to be used: as, in the Court to be richly appareled: in the country to wear more plain & homely garments. For who who would not think it a ridiculous thing to see a Lady in her milkhouse with a velvet gown, and at a bridal in her cassock of mockado: a Gentleman of the Country among the bushes and briars, go in a pounced doublet and a pair of embroidered hosen, in the City to wear a frise jerkin and a pair of leather breeches? yet some such phantasticals have I known, and one a certain knight, of all other the most vain, who commonly would come to the Sessions, and other ordinary meetings and Commissions in the Country, so bedecked with buttons and aglets of gold and such costly embroideries, as the poor plain men of the Country called him (for his gayness) the golden knight. Another for the like cause was called Saint Sunday: I think at this day they be so far spent, as either of them would be content with a good cloth cloak: and this came by want of discretion, to discern and deem right of decency, which many Gentlemen do wholly limit by the person or degree, where reason doth it by the place and presence: which may be such as it might very well become a great Prince to wear courser apparel than in another place or presence a meaner person.  
Nevertheless in the use of a garment many occasions alter the decency, sometimes the quality of the person, sometimes of the case, otherwhiles the country custom, and often the constitution of laws, and the very nature of use itself. As for example a king and prince may use rich and gorgeous apparel decently, so cannot a mean person do, yet if an herald of arms to whom a king giveth his gown 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 hath always been th'allowances of heralds: but if such herald have worn out, or sold, or lost that gown, to buy him a new of the like stuff with his own money and to wear it, is not decent in the eye and judgement of them that know it.  
And the country custom maketh things decent in use, as in Asia for all men to wear long gowns both a foot and horseback: in Europa short gaberdins, or cloaks, or jackets, even for their upper garments. The Turk and Persian to wear great tolibants of ten, fifteen, and twenty else of linen a piece upon their heads, which can not be removed: in Europe to were caps or hats, which upon every occasion of salutation we use to put of, as a sign of reverence. In th'East parts the men to make water couring like women, with us standing at a wall. With them to congratulat and salute by giving a beck with the head, or a bend of the body, with us here in England, and in Germany, and all other Northern parts of the world to shake hands. In France, Italy, and Spain to embrace over the shoulder, under the arms, at the very knees, according the superiors degree. With us the women give 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 civility will say, Los manos & los piedes. And above that reach too, there be that will say to the Ladies, Lombra de sus pisadas, the shadow of your steps. Which I recite unto you to show the phrase of those courtly servitors in yielding the mistress' honour and reverence.  
And it is seen that very particular use of itself makes a matter of much decency and undecency, without any country custom or allowance, as if one that hath many years worn a gown shall come to be seen wear a iakquet or jerkin, or he that hath many years worn a beard or long hair among those that had done the contrary, and come suddenly to be polled or shaven, it will seem only to himself, a deshight and very undecent, but also to all others that never used to go so, until the time and custom have abrogated that mislike.  
So was it here in England till her majesties most noble father for divers good respects, caused his own head and all his Courtiers to be polled and his beard to be cut short. Before that time it was thought more decent both for old men and young to be all shaven and to wear long hair either rounded or square. Now again at this time, the young Gentlemen of the Court have taken up the long hair trailing on their shoulders, and think it more decent: for what respect I would be glad to know.  
The Lacedæmonians bearing long bushes of hair, finely kept & curled up, used this civil argument to maintain that custom. Hair (say they) is the very ornament of nature appointed for the head, which therefore to use in his most sumptuous degree is comely, specially for them that be Lords, Masters of men, and of a free life, having ability & leisure enough to keep it clean, and so for a sign of signory, riches and liberty, the masters of the Lacedæmonians used long hair. But their vassals, servants and slaves used it short or shaven in sign of servitude and because they had no mean nor leisure to comb and keep it cleanly. It was beside cumbersome to them having many business to attend, in some services there might no manner of filth be falling from their heads. And to all soldiers it is very noisome and a dangerous disadvantage in the wars or in any particular combat, which being the most comely profession of every noble young Gentleman, it ought to persuade them greatly from wearing long hair. If there be any that seek by long hair to help or to hide an ill featured face, it is in them allowable so to do, because every man may decently reform by art, the faults and imperfections that nature hath wrought in them.  
And all singularities or affected parts of a man's behaviour seem undecent, as for one man to march or jet in the street more stately, or to look more solemnly, or to go more gaily & in other colours or fashioned garments then another of the same degree and estate.  
Yet such singularities have had many times both good liking and good success, otherwise then many would have looked for. As when Dinocrates the famous architect, desirous to be known to king Alexander the great, and having none acquaintance to bring him to the king's speech, he came one day to the Court very strangely appareled in long scarlet robes, his head compassed with a garland of Laurel, and his face all to be slicked with sweet oil, and stood in the king's chamber, motioning nothing to any man: news 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 repair to the Court. He answered, his name was Dinocrates the Architect, who came to present his Majesty with a platform of his own devising, how his Majesty might build a City upon the mountain Athos in Macedonia, which should bear the figure of a man's body, and told him all how. Forsooth the breast and bulk of his body should rest upon such a flat: that hill should be his head, all set with foregrowen woods like hair: his right arm should stretch out to such a hollow bottom as might be like his hand: holding a dish containing all the waters that should serve that City: the left arm with his hand should hold a valley of all the orchards and gardens of pleasure pertaining thereunto: and either leg should lie upon a ridge of rock, very gallantly to behold, and so should accomplish the full figure of a man. The king asked him what commodity of soil, or sea, or navigable river lay near unto it, to be able to sustain so great a number of inhabitants. Truly Sir (quoth Dinocrates) I have not yet considered thereof: for in truth it is the barest part of all the Country of Macedonia. The king smiled at it, and said very honourably, we like your device well, and mean to use your service in the building of a City, but we will choose out a more commodious situation: and made him attend in that voyage in which he conquered Asia and Egypt, and there made him chief Surveyor of his new City of Alexandria. Thus did Dinocrates' singularity in attire greatly further him to his advancement.  
Yet are generally all rare things and such as breed marvel & admiration somewhat holding of the undecent, as when a man is bigger & exceeding the ordinary stature of a man like a Giant, or far under the reasonable and common size of men, as a dwarf, and such undecencies do not anger us, but either we pity them or scorn at them.  
But at all insolent and unwonted parts of a man's behaviour, we find many times cause to mislike or to be mistrustful, which proceedeth of some undecency that is in it, as when a man that hath always been strange & unacquainted with us, will suddenly become our familiar and domestic: and another that hath been always stern and churlish, willbe upon the sudden affable and courteous, it is neither a comely sight, nor a sign of any good towards us. Which the subtle Italian well observed by the successes thereof, saying in Proverb. 

Chi me sa meglio che non suole,  
Tradito me ha' o tradir me vuole   

He that speaks me fairer, than his wont was too  
Hath done me harm, or means for to do.    
Now again all manner of conceits that stir up any vehement passion in a man, do it by some turpitude or evil and undecency that is in them, as to make a man angry there must be some injury or contempt offered, to make him envy there must proceed some undeserved prosperity of his equal or inferior, to make him pity some miserable fortune or spectacle to behold.  
And yet in every of these passions being as it were undecencies, there is a comeliness to be discerned, which some men can keep and some men can not, as to be angry, or to envy, or to hate, or to pity, 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 poem called the Iliads or wars of Troy: made his commencement the magnanimous wrath and anger of Achilles in his first verse thus: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Sing forth my muse the wrath of Achilles Peleus son: which the Poet would never have done if the wrath of a prince had not been in some sort comely & allowable. But when Arrianus and Curtius historiographers that wrote the noble gests of king Alexander the great, came to praise him for many things, yet for his wrath and anger they reproached him, because it proceeded not of any magnanimity, but upon surfeit & distemper in his diet, nor growing of any just causes, was exercised to the destruction of his dearest friends and familiars, and not of his enemies nor any other ways so honourably as th'others was, and so could not be reputed a decent and comely anger.  
So may all your other passions be used decently though the very matter of their original be grounded upon some undecency, as it is written by a certain king of Egypt, who looking out of his window, and seeing his own son for some grievous offence, carried by the officers of his justice to the place of execution: he never once changed his countenance at the matter, though the sight were never so full of ruth and atrocity. And it was thought a decent countenance and constant animosity in the king to be so affected, the case concerning so high and rare a piece of his own justice. But within few days after when he beheld out of the same window an old friend and familiar of his, stand begging an alms in the street, he wept tenderly, remembering their old familiarity and considering how by the mutability of fortune and frailty of man's estate, it might one day come to pass that he himself should fall into the like miserable estate. He therefore had a remorse very comely for a king in that behalf, which also caused him to give order for his poor friends plentiful relief.  
But generally to weep for any sorrow (as one may do for pity) is not so decent in a man: and therefore all high minded persons, when they cannot choose but shed tears, will turn away their face as a countenance undecent for a man to show, and so will the standers by till they have suppressed such passion, thinking it nothing decent to behold such an uncomely countenance. But for Ladies and women to weep and shed tears at every little grief, it is nothing uncomely, but rather a sign of much good nature & meekness of mind, a most decent property for that sex; and therefore they be for the more part more devout and charitable, and greater givers of alms than men, and zealous relievers of prisoners, and beseechers of pardons, and such like parts of commiseration. Yea they be more than so too: for by the common proverb, a woman will weep for pity to see a gosling go barefoot.  
But most certainly all things that move a man to laughter, as do these scurrilities & other ridiculous behaviours, it is for some undecency that is found in them: which maketh it decent for every man to laugh at them. And therefore when we see or hear a natural fool and idiot do or say any thing foolishly, we laugh not at him: but when he doth or speaketh wisely, because that is unlike himself: and a buffonne or counterfeit fool, to hear him speak wisely which is like himself, it is no sport at all, but for such a counterfeit to talk and look foolishly it maketh us laugh, because it is no part of his natural, for in every uncomeliness there must be a certain absurdity and disproportion to nature, and the opinion of the hearer or beholder to make the thing ridiculous. But for a fool to talk foolishly or a wiseman wisely, there is no such absurdity or disproportion.  
And though at all absurdities we may decently laugh, & when they be no absurdities not decently, yet in laughing is there an undecency for other respects sometime, than of the matter itself, Which made Philippus son to the first christian Emperor, Philippus Arabicus sitting with his father one day in the theatre to behold the sports, give his father a great rebuke because he laughed, saying that it was no comely countenance for an Emperor to bewray in such a public place, nor specially to laugh at every foolish toy: the posterity gave the son for that cause the name of Philippus Agelastos or without laughter.  
I have seen foreign Ambassadors in the Queen's presence laugh so dissolutely at some rare pastime or sport that hath been made there, that nothing in the world could worse have becomen them, and others very wise men, whether it have been of some pleasant humour and complexion, or for other default in the spleen, or for ill education or custom, that could not utter any grave and earnest speech without laughter, which part was greatly discommended in them.  
And Cicero the wisest of any Roman writers, thought it uncomely for a man to dance: saying, Saltantem sobrium vidi neminem. I never saw any man dance that was sober and in his right wits, but there by your leave 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 heart, which is no less natural to man then to be wise or well learned, or sober.  
To tell you the decencies of a number of other behaviours, one might do it to please you with pretty reports, but to the skilful Courtiers it shallbe nothing necessary, for they know all by experience without learning. Yet some few remembrances we will make you of the most material, which ourselves have observed, and so make an end.  
It is decent to be affable and courteous at meals & meetings, in open assemblies more solemn and strange, in place of authority and judgement not familiar nor pleasant, in counsel secret and sad, in ordinary conferences easy and apert, in conversation simple, in capitulation subtle and mistrustful, at mournings and burials sad and sorrowful, in feasts and banquets merry & joyful, in household expense pinching and sparing, in public entertainment spending and pompous. The Prince to be sumptuous and magnificent, the private man liberal with moderation, a man to be in giving free, in ask spare, in promise slow, in performance speedy, in contract circumspect but just, in amity sincere, in ennimitie wily and cautelous [dolus an virtus quis in host requirit, saith the Poet] and after the same rate every sort and manner of business or affair or action hath his decency and undecency, either for the time or place or person or some other circumstance, as Priests to be sober and sad, a Preacher by his life to give good example, a judge to be incorrupted, solitary and unacquainted with Courtiers or Courtly entertainments, & as the Philosopher saith Oportet judicem esse rudem & simplicem, without plaite or wrinkle, sour in look and churlish in speech, contrariwise a Courtly Gentleman to be lofty and curious in countenance, yet sometimes a creeper, and a curry favel with his superiors.  
And touching the person, we say it is comely for a man to be a lamb in the house, and a Lion in the field, appointing the decency of his quality by the place, by which reason also we limit the comely parts of a woman to consist in four points, that is to be a shrew in the kitchen, a saint in the Church, an Angel at the board, and an Ape in the bed, as the Chronicle reports by Mistress Shore paramour to king Edward the fourth.  
Then also there is a decency in respect of the persons with whom we do negotiate, as with the great personages his egals to be solemn and surly, with meaner men pleasant and popular, stout with the sturdy and mild with the meek, which is a most decent conversation and not reproachful or unseemly, as the proverb goeth, by those that use the contrary, a Lion among sheep and a sheep among Lions.  
Right so in negotiating with Princes we ought to seek their favour by humility & not by sternness, nor to traffic with them by way of indent or condition, but frankly and by manner of submission to their wills, for Princes may be lead but not driven, nor they are to be vanquished by allegation, but must be suffered to have the victory and be relented unto: nor they are not to be challenged for right or justice, for that is a manner of accusation: nor to be charged with their promises, for that is a kind of condemnation: and at their request we ought not to be hardly entreated but easily, for that is a sign of deffidence and mistrust in their bounty and gratitude: nor to recite the good services which they have received at our hands, for that is but a kind of exprobration, but in craving their bounty or largesse to remember unto them all their former beneficences, making no mention of our own merits, & so it is thankful, and in praising them to their faces to do it very modestly: and in their commendations not to be excessive for that is tedious, and always savours of subtlety more than of sincere love.  
And in speaking to a Prince the voice ought to be low and not loud nor shrill, for th'one is a sign of humility th'other of too much audacity and presumption. Nor in looking on them seem to overlook them, nor yet behold them too steadfastly, for that is a sign of impudence or little reverence, and therefore to the great Prince's Oriental their servitors speaking or being spoken unto abbase their eyes in token of lowliness, which behaviour we do not observe to our Princes with so good a discretion as they do: & such as retire from the Prince's presence, do not by & by turn tail to them as we do, but go backward or sideling for a reasonable space, till they be at the wall or chamber door passing out of sight, and is thought a most decent behaviour to their sovereigns. I have heard that king Henry th'eight her majesties father, though otherwise the most gentle and affable Prince of the world, could not abide to have any man stare in his face or to fix his eye too steedily upon him when he talked with them: nor for a common suitor to exclaim or cry out for justice, for that is offensive and as it were a secret impeachement of his wrong doing, as happened once to a Knight in this Realm of great worship speaking to the king. Nor in speeches with them to be too long, or too much affected, for th'one is tedious th'other is irksome, nor with loud acclamations to applaud them, for that is too popular & rude and betokens either ignorance, or seldom access to their presence, or little frequenting their Courts: nor to show too merry or light a countenance, for that is a sign of little reverence and is a piece of a contempt.  
And in gaming with a Prince it is decent to let him sometimes win of purpose, to keep him pleasant, & never to refuse his gift, for that is undutiful: nor to forgive him his losses, for that is arrogant: nor to give him great gifts, for that is either insolence or folly: nor to feast him with excessive charge for that is both vain and envious, & therefore the wise Prince king Henry the seventh her majesties grandfather, if his chance had been to lie at any of his subjects houses, or to pass more meals than one, he that would take upon him to defray the charge of his diet, or of his officers and household, he would be marvelously offended with it, saying what private subject dare undertake a Prince's charge, or look into the secret of his expense? Her Majesty hath been known oftentimes to mislike the superfluous expense of her subjects bestowed upon her in times of her progresses.  
Likewise in matter of advise it is neither decent to flatter him for that is servile▪ neither to be to rough or plain with him, for that is dangerous, but truly to Counsel & to admonish, gravely not grievously, sincerely not sourly: which was the part that so greatly commended Cineas Counsellor to king Pyrrhus, who kept that decency in all his persuasions, that he ever prevailed in advice, and carried the king which way he would.  
And in a Prince it is comely to give unasked, but in a subject to ask unbidden: for that first is sign of a bountiful mind, this of a loyal & confident. But the subject that craves not at his Prince's hand, either he is of no desert, or proud, or mistrustful of his Prince's goodness: 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 answered (noting his insolency,) If he be ashamed to beg, we are ashamed to give, and was nevertheless one of the most liberal Princes of the world.  
And yet in some Courts it is otherwise used, for in Spain it is thought very undecent for a Courtier to crave, supposing that it is the part of an importune: therefore the king of ordinary calleth every second, third or fourth year for his chequer roll, and bestoweth his mercedes of his own mere motion, and by discretion, according to every man's merit and condition.  
And in their commendable delights to be apt and accommodate, as if the Prince be given to hawking, hunting, riding of horses, or playing upon instruments, or any like exercise, the servitor to be the same: and in their other appetites wherein the Prince would seem an example of virtue, and would not mislike to be egalled by others: in such cases it is decent their servitors & subjects study to be like to them by imitation, as in wearing their hair long or short, or in this or that sort of apparel, such excepted as be only fit for Princes and none else, which were undecent for a meaner person to imitate or counterfeit: so is it not comely to counterfeit their voice, or look, or any other gestures that be not ordinary and natural in every common person: and therefore to go upright or speak or look assuredly, it is decent in every man. But if the Prince have an extraordinary countenance or manner of speech, or bearing of his body, that for a common servitor to counterfeit is not decent, and therefore it was misliked in the Emperor Nero, and thought uncomely for him to counterfeit Alexander the great by holding his head a little awry, & nearer toward the tone shoulder, because it was not his own natural.  
And in a Prince it is decent to go slowly, and to march with leisure, and with a certain granditie rather than gravity: as our sovereign Lady and mistress, the very image of majesty and magnificence, is accustomed to do generally, unless it be when she walketh apace for her pleasure, or to catch her a heat in the cold mornings.  
Nevertheless, it is not so decent in a meaner person, as I have observed in some counterfeit Ladies of the Country, which use it much to their own derision. This comeliness was wanting in Queen Marie, otherwise a very good and honourable Princess. And was some blemish to the Emperor Ferdinando, a most noble minded man, yet so careless and forgetful of himself in that behalf, as I have seen him run up a pair of stairs so swift and nimble a pace, as almost had not become a very mean man, who had not gone in some hasty business.  
And in a noble Prince nothing is more decent and welbeseeming his greatness, than to spare foul speeches, for that breeds hatred, and to let none humble suitors depart out of their presence (as near as may be) miscontented. Wherein her Majesty hath of all others a most Regal gift, and nothing inferior to the good Prince Titus Vespasianus in that point.  
Also not to be passionate for small detriments or offences, nor to be a revenger of them, but in cases of great injury, and specially of dishonours: and therein to be very stern and vindicative, for that savours of Princely magnanimity: nor to seek revenge upon base and obscure persons, over whom the conquest is not glorious, nor the victory honourable, which respect moved our sovereign Lady (keeping always the decorum of a Princely person) at her first coming to the crown, when a knight of this Realm, who had very insolently behaved himself toward her when she was Lady Elizabeth, fell upon his knee to her, and besought her pardon: suspecting (as there was good cause) that he should have been sent to the Tower, she said unto him most mildly: do you not know that we are descended of the Lion, whose nature is not to harm or pray upon the mouse, or any other such small vermin?  
And with these examples I think sufficient to leave, giving you information of this one point, that all your figures Poetical or Rhethoricall, are but observations of strange speeches, and such as without any art at all we should use, & commonly do, even by very nature without discipline. But more or less aptly and decently, or scarcely, or abundantly, or of this or that kind of figure, & one of us more than another, according to the disposition of our nature, constitution of the heart, & facility of each man's utterance: so as we may conclude, that nature herself suggesteth the figure in this or that form: but art aideth the judgement of his use and application, which gives me occasion finally and for a full conclusion to this whole treatise, to inform you in the next chapter how art should be used in all respects, and specially in this behalf of language, and when the natural is more commendable than the artificial, and contrariwise.   

CHAP. XXV.  
That the good Poet or maker ought to dissemble his art, and in what cases the artificial is more commended than the natural, and contrariwise.  
ANd now (most excellent Queen) having largely said of Poets & Poesy, and about what matters they be employed: then of all the commended forms of Poems, thirdly of metrical proportions, such as do appertain to our vulgar art: and last of all set forth the poetical ornament consisting chief in the beauty and gallantness of his language and style, and so have appareled him to our seeming, in all his gorgeous habiliments, and pulling him first from the cart to the school, and from thence to the Court, and preferred him to your majesties service, in that place of great honour and magnificence to give entertainment to Princes, Ladies of honour, Gentlewomen and Gentlemen, and by his many moods of skill, to serve the many humours of men thither haunting and resorting, some by way of solace some of serious advise, and in matters aswell profitable as pleasant and honest: We have in our humble conceit sufficiently performed our promise or rather duty to your Majesty in the description of this art, so always as we leave him not unfurnished of one piece that best beseems that place of any other, and may serve as a principal good lesson for all good makers to bear continually in mind, in the usage of this science: which is, that being now lately become a Courtier he show not himself a craftsman, & merit to be disgraded, & with scorn sent back again to the shop, or other place of his first faculty and calling, but that so wisely & discreetly he behave himself as he may worthily retain the credit of his place, and profession of a very Courtier, which is in plain terms, cunningly to be able to dissemble. But (if it please your Majesty) may it not seem enough for a Courtier to know how to wear a feather, and set his cap a flaunt, his chain en echarpe, a strait buskin all inglesse, a lose alo Turquesque, the cape alla Spaniola, the breech a la Franaeoise, and by twenty manner of new fashioned garments to disguise his body, and his face with as many countenances, whereof it seems there be many that make a very art, and study who can show himself most fine, I will not say most foolish and ridiculous? or perhaps rather that he could dissemble his conceits as well as his countenances, so as he never speak as he thinks, or think as he speaks, and that in any matter of importance his words and his meaning very seldom meet: for so as I remember it was concluded by us setting forth the figure Allegoria, which therefore not impertinently we call the Courtier or figure of fair semblant, or is it not perchance more requisite our courtly Poet do dissemble not only his countenances & conceits, but also all his ordinary actions of behaviour, or the most part of them, whereby the better to win his purposes & good advantages, as now & then to have a journey or sickness in his sleeve, thereby to shake of other importunities of greater consequence, as they use their pilgrimages in France, the Diet in Spain, the baines in Italy? and when a man is whole to feign himself sick to shun the business in Court, to entertain time and ease at home, to salve offences without discredit, to win purposes by mediation in absence, which their presence would either impeach or not greatly prefer, to hearken after the popular opinions and speech, to intend to their more private solaces, to practise more deeply both at leisure & liberty, & when any public affair or other attempt & counsel of theirs hath not received good success, to avoid thereby the Princes present reproof, to cool their chollers by absence, to win remorse by lamentable reports, and reconciliation by friends entreaty. Finally by sequestering themselves for a time fro the Court, to be able the freelier & clearer to discern the factions and state of the Court and of all the world beside, no less than doth the looker on or beholder of a game better see into all points of advantage, than the player himself? and in dissembling of diseases which I pray you? for I have observed it in the Court of France, not a burning fever or a pleurisy, or a palsy, or the hydropic and swelling gout, 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 do half handsomely serve the turn.  
But it must be either a dry dropsy, or a megrim or litarge, or a fistule in ano, or some such other secret disease, as the common conversant can hardly discover, and the Physician either not speedily heal, or not honestly bewray? of which infirmities the scoffing Pasquil wrote, Vlcus vesicae renum dolor in pene scirrus. Or as I have seen in divers places where many make themselves heart whole, when in deed they are full sick, bearing it stoutly out to the hazard of their health, rather than they would be suspected of any loathsome infirmity, which might inhibit them from the Prince's presence, or entertainment of the ladies. Or as some other do to bear a port of state & plenty when they have neither penny nor possession, that they may not seem to droop, and be rejected as unworthy or insufficient for the greater services, or be pitied for their poverty, which they hold for a marvelous disgrace, as did the poor Squire of Castille, who had rather dine with a sheeps head at home & drink a cruse of water to it, then to have a good dinner given him by his friend who was nothing ignorant of his poverty. Or as others do to make wise they be poor when they be rich, to shun thereby the public charges and vocations, for men are not now a days (specially in states of oligarchy as the most in our age) called so much for their wisdom as for their wealth, also to avoid envy of neighbours or bounty in conversation, for whosoever is reputed rich cannot without reproach, but be either a lender or a spender. Or as others do to seem very busy when they have nothing to do, and yet will make themselves so occupied and overladen in the Prince's affairs, as it is a great matter to have a couple of words with them, when notwithstanding they lie sleeping on their beds all an after noon, or sit solemnly at cards in their chambers, or enterteyning of the Dames, or laughing and gibing with their familiars four hours by the clock, whiles the poor suitor desirous of his dispatch is answered by some Secretary or page il fault attendre, Monsieur is dispatching the king's business into Languedoc, Provence Piedmont, a common phrase with the Secretaries of France. Or as I have observed in many of the Prince's Courts of Italy, to seem idle when they be earnestly occupied & intend to nothing but mischievous practises, and do busily negotiate by colour of otiation. Or as others of them that go ordinarily to Church and never pray to win an opinion of holiness: or pray still apace, but never do good deed, and give a beggar a penny and spend a pound on a harlot, to speak fair to a man's face, and foul behind his back, to set him at his trencher and yet sit on his skirts for so we use to say by a feigned friend, than also to be rough and churlish in speech and appearance, but inwardly affectionate and favouring, as I have seen of the greatest podestates and gravest judges and Presidents of Parliament in France.  
These & many such like disguisings do we find in man's behaviour, & specially in the Courtiers of foreign Countries, where in my youth I was brought up, and very well observed their manner of life and conversation, for of mine own Country I have not made so great experience. Which parts, nevertheless, we allow not now in our English maker, because we have given him the name of an honest man, and not of an hypocrite: and therefore leaving these manner of dissimulations to all baseminded men, & of vile nature or mystery, we do allow our Courtly Poet to be a dissembler only in the subtleties of his art: that is, when he is most artificial, so to disguise and cloak it as it may not appear, nor seem to proceed from him by any study or trade of rules, but to be his natural: nor so evidently to be descried, as every lad that reads him shall say he is a good scholar, but will rather have him to know his art well▪ and little to use it.  
And yet peradventure in all points it may not be so taken, but in such only as may discover his grossness or his ignorance by some schollerly affectation: which thing is very irksome to all men of good training, and specially to Courtiers. And yet for all that our maker may not be in all cases restrained, but that he may both use▪ and also manifest his art to his great praise, and need no more be ashamed thereof, than a shoemaker to have made a cleanly shoe, or a Carpenter to have built a fair house. Therefore to discuss and make this point somewhat clearer, to weet, where art ought to appear, and where not, and when the natural is more commendable than the artificial in any human action or workmanship, we will examine it further by this distinction.  
In some cases we say art is an aid and coadjutor to nature, and a furtherer of her actions to good effect, or peradventure a mean to supply her wants, by renforcing the causes wherein she is impotent and defective, as doth the art of physic, by helping the natural concoction, retention, distribution, expulsion, and other virtues, in a weak and unhealthy body. Or as the good gardener seasons his soil by sundry sorts of compost: as muck or marvel, clay or sand, and many times by blood, or lees of oil or wine▪ or stolen, or perchance with more costly drugs: and waters his plants, and weeds his herbs and flowers, and prunes his branches, and unleaves his boughs to let in the sun: and twenty other ways cherisheth them, and cureth their infirmities, and so makes that never, or very seldom any of them miscarry, but bring forth their flowers and fruits in season. And in both these cases it is no small praise for the Physician & Gardener to be called good and cunning artificers.  
In another respect art is not only an aid and coadjutor to nature in all her actions, but an alterer of them, and in some sort a surmounter of her skill, so as by means of it her own effects shall appear more beautiful or strange and miraculous, as in both cases before remembered. The Physician by the cordials he will give his patient, shall be able not only to restore the decayed spirits of man, and render him health, but also to prolong the term of his life many years over and above the stint of his first and natural constitution. And the Gardener by his art will not only make an herb, or flower, or fruit, come forth in his season without impediment, but also will embellish the same in virtue, shape, odour and taste, that nature of herself would never have done: as to make the single gillifloure, or marigold, or daisy, double: and the white rose, red, yellow, or carnation, a bitter melon sweet; a sweet apple, sour; a plum or cherry without a stone; a pear without core or kernel, a gourd or coucumber like to a horn, or any other figure he will: any of which things nature could not do without man's help and art. These actions also are most singular, when they be most artificial.  
In another respect, we say art is neither an aider nor a surmounter, but only a bare immitatour of nature's works, following and counterfeiting her actions and effects, as the Marmesot doth many countenances and gestures of man, of which sort are the arts of painting and keruing, whereof one represents the natural by light colour and shadow in the superficial or flat, the other in a body massife expressing the full and empty, even, extant, rabbated, hollow, or whatsoever other figure and passion of quantity. So also the Alchemist counterfeits gold, silver, and all other metals, the Lapidary pearls and precious stones by glass and other substances falsified, and sophisticate by art. These men also be praised for their craft, and their credit is nothing impaired, to say that their conclusions and effects are very artificial. Finally in another respect art 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 patterns, but makes things and produceth effects altogether strange and diverse, & of such form & quality (nature always supplying stuff) as she never would nor could have done of herself, as the carpenter that builds a house, the joiner that makes a table or a bedstead, the tailor a garment, the Smith a lock or a key, and a number of like, in which case the workman gaineth reputation by his art, and praise when it is best expressed & most apparent, & most studiously. Man also in all his actions that be not altogether natural, but are gotten by study & discipline or exercise, as to dance by measures to sing by note, to play on the lute, and such like, it is a praise to be said an artificial dancer, singer, & player on instruments, because they be not exactly known or done, but by rules & precepts or teaching of schoolmasters. But in such actions as be so natural & proper to ●●an, as he may become excellent therein without any art or imitation at all, (custom and exercise excepted, which are requisite to every action not numbered among the vital or animal) and wherein nature should seem to do amiss, and man suffer reproach to be found destitute of them: in those to show himself rather artificial then natural, were no less to be laughed at, then for one that can see well enough, to use a pair of spectacles, or not to hear but by a trunk put to his ear, nor feel without a pair of ennealed glooves, which things in deed help an infirm sense, but annoy the perfect, and therefore showing a disability natural move rather to scorn then commendation, and to pity sooner than to praise. But what else is language and utterance, and discourse & persuasion, and argument in man, than the virtues of a well constitute body and mind, little less natural than his very sensual actions, saving that the one is perfected by nature at once, the other not without exercise & iteration? Peradventure also it willbe granted, that a man sees better and discerns more brimly his colours, and hears and feels more exactly by use and often hearing and feeling and seeing, & though it be better to see with spectacles then not to see at all, yet is their praise not equal nor in any man's judgement comparable: no more is that which a Poet makes by art and precepts rather than by natural instinct: and that which he doth by long meditation rather than by a sudden inspiration, or with great pleasure and facility then hardly (and as they are wont to say) in spite of Nature or Minerva, than which nothing can be more irksome or ridiculous.  
And yet I am not ignorant that there be arts and methods both to speak and to persuade and also to dispute, and by which the natural is in some sort relieved, as th'eye by his spectacle, I say relieved in his imperfection, but not made more perfect than the natural, in which respect I call those arts of Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric not bare imitations, as the painter or carvers craft and work in a foreign subject viz. a lively purtraite in his table of wood, but by long and studious observation rather a repetition or reminiscens natural, reduced into perfection, and made prompt by use and exercise. And so whatsoever a man speaks or persuades he doth it not by imitation artificially, but by observation naturally (though one follow another) because it is both the same and the like that nature doth suggest: but if a popinjay speak, she doth it by imitation of man's voice 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 devise his plat or subject, then to fashion his poem▪ thirdly to use his metrical proportions, and last of all to utter with pleasure and delight, which rests in his manner of language and style as hath been said, whereof the many moods and strange phrases are called figures, it is not altogether with him as with the craft's man, nor altogether otherwise then with the craft's man, for in that he useth his metrical proportions by appointed and harmonical measures and distances, he is like the Carpenter or joiner, for borrowing their timber and stuff of nature, they appoint and order it by art otherwise then nature would do, and work effects in appearance contrary to hers. Also in that which the Poet speaks or reports of another man's tale or doings, as Homer of Priamus or Ulysses, he is as the painter or carver that work by imitation and representation in a foreign subject, in that he speaks figuratively, or argues subtly, or persuades copiously and vehemently, he doth as the cunning gardener that using nature as a coadjutor, furders her conclusions & many times makes her effects more absolute and strange. But for that in our maker or Poet, which rests only in devise and issues from an excellent sharp and quick invention, helped by a clear and bright fantasy and imagination, he is not as the painter to counterfeit the natural by the like effects and not the same, nor as the gardener aiding nature to work both the same and the like, nor as the Carpenter to work effects utterly unlike, but even as nature herself working by her own peculiar virtue and proper instinct and not by example or meditation or exercise as all other artificers do, is then most admired when he is most natural and least artificial. And in the feats of his language and utterance, because they hold aswell of nature to be suggested and uttered as by art to be polished and reform. Therefore shall our Poet receive praise for both, but more by knowing of his art then by unseasonable using it, and be more commended for his natural eloquence then for his artificial, and more for his artificial well desembled, then for the same overmuch affected and grossly or undiscreetly bewrayed, as many makers and Orators do.   

The Conclusion.  
ANd with this (my most gracious sovereign Lady) I make an end, humbly beseeching your pardon, in that I have presumed to hold your ears so long annoyed with a tedious trifle, so as unless it proceed more of your own Princely and natural mansuetude then of my merit, I fear greatly lest you may think of me as the Philosopher Plato did of Amceris an inhabitant of the City Cirene, who being in troth a very active and artificial man in driving of a Prince's Chariot or Coach (as your Majesty might be) and knowing it himself well enough, coming one day into Plato's school, and having heard him largely dispute in matters Philosophical, I pray you (quoth he) give me leave also to say somewhat of mine art, and in deed showed so many tricks of his cunning how to launch forth and stay, and change pace, and turn and wind his Coach, this way and that way, uphill down hill, and also in even or rough ground, that he made the whole assembly wonder at him. Quoth Plato being a grave parsonage, verily in mine opinion this man should be utterly unfit for any service of greater importance then to drive a Coach. It is great pity that so pretty a fellow, had not occupied his brains in studies of more consequence. Now I pray God it be not thought so of me in describing the toys of this our vulgar art. But when I consider how every thing hath his estimation by opportunity, and that it was but the study of my younger years in which vanity reigned. Also that I writ to the pleasure of a Lady and a most gracious Queen, and neither to Priests nor to Prophets or Philosophers. Besides finding by experience, that many times idleness is less harmful than unprofitable occupation, daily seeing how these great aspiring minds and ambitious heads of the world seriously searching to deal in matters of state, be often times so busy and earnest that they were better be unoccupied, and peradventure altogether idle, I presume so much upon your majesties most mild and gracious judgement howsoever you conceive of mine ability to any better or greater service, that yet in this attempt ye will allow of my loyal and good intent always endeavouring to do your Majesty the best and greatest of those services I can.    

A Table of the Chapters in this book, and every thing in them contained.  

WHat a Poet and Poesy is, and who may be said the most excellent Poet in our time. fol. 1  
Whether there may be an art of our English or vulgar Poesy 3  
How Poets were the first Priests, the first Prophets, the first Legislators and Politiens in the world. 3  
How Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomers, and Historiographers, and Orators, and Musicians in the world. 5  
How every wild and savage people use a kind of natural Poesy in versicle and rhyme, as our vulgar is. 7  
Whence the rhyming Poesy came first to the Greeks and Latins, and how it had altered, and almost spilled their manner of Poesy. 7  
How in the time of charlemaine's reign and many years after him, the Latin Poets wrote in rhyme. 8  
In what reputation Poets and Poesy were in the old time with Princes, and otherwise generally, & how they be now become contemptible, and for what causes. 12  
How Poesy should not be employed upon vain conceits, nor specially those that be vicious or infamous. 18  
The subject or matter of Poesy what it is. 18  
Of Poems and their sundry sorts, and how thereby the ancient Poets received Surnames. 19  
In what form of Poesy the gods of the gentiles were praised and honoured. 21  
In what form of Poesy vice, & the common abuses of man's life were reprehended. 24  
How the Poesy for reprehension of vice, was reform by two manner of Poems, more civil than the first. 25  
In what form of Poesy the evil and outrageous behaviours of Princes were reprehended. 26  
In what form of Poesy the great Princes and dominators of the world were praised and honoured. 27  
Of the places where in ancient time their interludes and other Poems dramatic were represented unto the people. 28  
Of the shepherds or pastoral poesy called Eglogue, and to what purpose it was first invented and devised. 30  
Of historical Poesy, by which the famous acts of princes and the virtuous and worthy lives of our forefathers were reported. 31  
In what form of poesy virtue in the inferior sort was commended. 34  
The form wherein honest & profitable arts and sciences were treated. 35  
In what form of poesy the amorous affections and entertainments were uttered. 36  
The form of poetical rejoicings. 36  
The form of poetical lamentations. 37  
The solemn rejoicings at the birth and nativity of princes children. 40  
The manner of rejoicings at weddings and marriages, specially of great Ladies and Gentlewomen and Dames of honour. 40  
The manner of poesy by which they uttered their bitter taunts or privy nips, and witty scoffs and other merry conceits. 43  
What manner of poem they used for memorial of the dead. 45  
An ancient form of poesy by which men did use to reproach their enemies. 46  
Of the short poem called with us posy. 47  
Who in any age have been the most commended writers in our English poesy, and the Authors censure given upon them. 48   

The Table of the second book.  
OF proportion poetical. fol. 53  
Of proportion in Staff. 54  
Of proportion in Measure. 55  
How many sorts of measures we use in our vulgar. 58  
Of the distinctions of man's voice and pauses allowed to our speech, & of the first pause called Seizure. 61  
Of proportion in concord called Rhyme. 63  
Of accent, stir and time, evidently perceived in the distinction of man's voice, and is that which maketh the flowing of a Metre. 64  
Of your Cadences by which the meeter is made symphonical, & when they be most sweet and solemn. 65  
How the good maker will not wrench his word to help his rhyme, either by falsifying his accent or his Orthography. 67  
Of concord in long and short measures, & by near or far distances, and which of them is most commendable. 68  
Of proportion by situation. 69  
Of proportion in figure. 75  
How if all manner of sudden innovations were not very scandalous, specially in the laws of any language, the use of the Greek and Latin feet might be brought into our vulgar poesy & with good grace enough. 85  
A more particular declaration of the metrical feet of the Greeks and Latins, and of your feet of two times. 91  
Of the feet of three times, and what use we may have of them in our vulgar. 103  
Of all the other of three times besides the Dactill. 106  
Of your half foot in a verse▪ & those verses which they called perfect and defective. 107  
Of the breaking of your words of many syllables, & when & how it is to be used. 108   

The Table of the third book.  
OF ornament poetical and that it resteth in figures. 114  
How our writing & speeches public ought to be figurative, and if they be not do greatly disgrace the cause and purpose of the speaker and writer. 115  
How ornament poetical is of two sorts according to the double nature and efficacy of figures. 119  
Of language and what speech our maker ought to use. 119  
Of style, and that it is of three kinds, lofty, mean, and low according to the nature of the subject. 123  
Of the lofty, mean, and low subject. 127  
Of figures and figurative speeches. 128  
Six points set down by our learned forefathers for a general rule or regiment of all good utterance, be it by mouth or by writing. 129  
How the Greeks first and afterwards the Latins invented new names for every figure, which this Author is also enforced to do in his vulgar art. 130  
A division of figures, and how they serve in exornation of language. 132  
Of Auricular figures appertaining to single words and working by their divers sounds and audible tunes, alteration to the ear only and not to the mind. 134  
Of Auricular figures pertaining to clauses of speech, and by them working no little alteration to the ear. 135  
Of Auricular figures working by disorder. 140  
Of Auricular figures working by surplusage. 142  
Of Auricular figures working by exchange. 142  
Of Auricular figures that serve to make the metre tunable and melodious, but not by defect nor surplusage, disorder nor exchange. 145   

The names of your figures Auricular.  
ECclipsis, or the figure of default. 136  
Zeugma, or the single supply. 136  
Prozeugma, or the ringleader. 137  
Mezozeugma, or the middlemarcher. 137  
Hypozeugma, or the rerewarder. 137  
Sillepsis, or the double supply. 137  
Hypozeuxis, or the substitute. 138  
Aposiopesis, or the figure of silence, otherwise called the figure of interruption. 139  
Prolepsis, or the propounder. 139  
Hiperbaton, or the trespasser. 140  
Parenthesis, or the insertour. 140  
Histeron proteron, or the preposterous. 141  
Enallage, or figure of exchange. 142  
Hipallage, or the changeling. 143  
Omoioteleton, or the figure of likeloose. 144  
Parimion, or figure of like letter. 145  
Asindeton, or figure of lose language. 145  
Polisindeton, or the couple clause. 146  
Irmus, or the long lose. 146  
Epitheton, or the qualifier. 147  
Endiades, or the figure of twins. 147  
Of the figures which we call Sensable, because they altar and affect the mind by alteration of sense and first in single words. 148  
Metaphora, or the figure of transport. 148  
Catacresis, or the figure of abuse. 150  
Metonymia, or the misnamer. 150  
Antonomasia, or the surnamer. 151  
Onomatopeia, or the newnamer. 151  
Epitheton, or figure of attribution, otherwise called the qualifier. 152  
Metalepsis, or the far-fet, 152  
Liptote, or the moderator. 153  
Paradiastole, or the currifavel, otherwise called the soother. 154  
Meiosis, or the disabler. 154  
Tapinosis, or the abbaser. 154  
Synecdoche, or the figure of quick conceit. 154  
Of sensable figures appertaining to whole speeches, and by them affecting and altering the mind by force of sense and intendment. 155  
Allegoria, or figure of fair semblant. 155  
Enigma, or the riddle. 157  
Parimia, or the proverb. 157  
Ironia, or the dry mock. 157  
Sarcasmus, or the bitter taunt. 158  
Asteismus, the merry scoff, or civil jest. 158  
Micterismus, or the fleering frump. 159  
Antiphrasis, or the broad flout. 159  
Charientismus, or the privy nip. 159  
Hyperbole, or the loud liar, otherwise called the overreacher. 159  
Periphrasis, or the figure of ambage. 161  
Synecdoche, or the figure of quick conceit. 162  
Of figures sententious, otherwise called rhetorical. 163  
Anaphora, or the figure of report. 165  
Antistrophe, or the counterturne. 165  
Simploche, or figure of reiteration. 166  
Anadiplosis, or the redouble. 167  
Epanalepsis, or the slow return, otherwise called the Echo sound. 167  
Epizeuxis, or the vnderlay, otherwise called the Cuckowspell. 167  
Ploche, or the doubler, otherwise called the swift repeat. 168  
Paronomasia, or the nicknamer. 168  
Traductio, or the tranlacer. 170  
Antipophora, or the figure of response. 170  
Sineciosis, or the crossecoople. 172  
Atanaclasis, or the rebound. 173  
Clymax, or the marching figure. 173  
Antimetavole, or the counterchange. 174  
Insultatio, or the disdainful. 175  
Antitheton, or the quarreler, otherwise called the overthwart or rencounter. 175  
Erotema, or the questioner. 176  
Echphonisis, or the outcry. 177  
Brachiologia, or the cutted comma. 178  
Parison, or the figure of even. 178  
Sinonimya, or the figure of store. 179  
Metanoia, or the penitent, otherwise called the figure of repentance. 179  
Antenagoge, or the recompencer. 180  
Epiphonema, or the close. 181  
Auxesis, or the avancer. 182  
Meiosis, or the disabler. 183  
Dialisis, or the dismembrer. 185  
Merismus, or the distributor. 185  
Epimone, or the loveburden. 188  
Paradoxon, or the wonderer. 189  
Aporia, or the doubtful. 189  
Epitropis, or the figure of reference, otherwise called the figure of submission. 189  
Parrisia, or the licentious. 190  
Anachmosis, or the impartener. 190  
Paramologia, or figure of admittance. 190  
Etiologia, or the tellcause, otherwise called the reason renderer. 191  
Dicheologia, or the figure of excuse. 192  
Noema, or the figure of close conceit. 193  
Orismus, or the definer by difference. 193  
Procatalepsis, or the presumptuous. 194  
Paralepsis, or the passenger. 194  
Commoratio, or figure of abode. 194  
Metastasis, or figure of remove, otherwise called the flitter. 194  
Parecuasis, or the straggler, otherwise called the figure of digression. 195  
Expeditio, or the dispatcher. 195  
Dialogismus, or the right reasoner. 196  
Gnome, or the director, otherwise called the sage sayer. 197  
Sinathrismus, or the heaping figure. 197  
Apostrophe, or the turn tale. 198  
Hipotiposis, or the counterfeit, otherwise called the figure of representation. 199  
Prosopographia, or the counterfeit countenance. 199  
Prosopopeia, or the false impersonation. 200  
Chronographia, or the counterfeit of time 200  
Topographia, or counterfeit of place. 200  
Pragmatographia, or counterfeit action. 201  
Omoiosis, or the figure of resemblance. 201  
Icon, or resemblance by purtrait, and ymagerie. 204  
Parabola, or resemblance mystical. 205  
Paradigma, or resemblance by example. 205  
Exargasia, or the gorgeous, otherwise called the beautiful. 206  
Of the vices and deformity in speech principally noted by ancient Poets. 208  
How some vices in speeches are always intolerable some others now and then borne withal by licence of approved authors. 209  
Barbarismus, or barbarous speech. 209  
Solecismus, or false speech. 210  
Cacozelia, or fond affectation. 210  
Soraismus, or the vice called the mingle-mangle. 211  
Cacosintheton, or the misplacer. 212  
Cacemphaton, or foul speech. 212  
Tautologia, or self saying. 213  
Acyron, or the uncouth. 214  
Pleonasmus, or fault of full speech. 215  
Macrologia, or long language. 215  
Periergia, or overlabor, otherwise called the curious. 216  
Tapinosis, or the abbaser. 216  
Bomphiologia, or pompous speech. 217  
Amphibologia, or the ambiguous. 217  
What it is that generally makes our speech virtuous or vicious, & of that which the Latins call decorum. 218  
Of decency in behaviour and action, which also belongs to the consideration of a Poet or maker. 231  
How the good poet or maker ought to dissemble his art, and in what cases the artificial is more commended than the natural and contrariwise. 250  
The conclusion. 257   
FINIS.