Περί ὕψους Or Dionysius Longinus of the HEIGHT OF ELOQUENCE. Rendered out of the original. By J. H. Esq  
LONDON, Printed by ROGER DANIEL for Francis Eaglesfield at the Marygold in Paul's churchyard 1652.   

To my Lord, the Lord Commissioner. WHITELOCK.  
My Lord,  
SInce I have overcome my nature to so much impudence as to throw this little thing at your lordship's feet (though it be with the same devotion as the old superstition inscribed the names of their greatest Deities upon their meanest Donaries) I conceive myself obliged in justice to give you an account of what I have done, and for what causes I was ambitious it should live under your shadow, that so I may be in a greater possibility of pardon, in case your Lordship descend to take notice of it, by diverting, so far as to a perusal, from your high judicial Trust, and those noble endeavours which employ you in the Best and Justest cause that ever mankind can engage in.  
To make therefore the best thrift I can with the time which possibly your Lordship may waste in running over these miserable sheets, I doubt not in the first place to profess, that this address is such, that upon the best consideration I could make, I could not avoid it, as not finding a better protector for such a discourse then your Lordship, who as you are entrusted with the greatest civil employment that this Nation can make use of, and to civil persons Longinus (who I dare say writes up to his own rules) tells us he intended it, so you will find it a short draught, or to speak rashly, a kind of prophecy of your own most excellent elocution.  
In the 2d I considered that as Greece had the greatest Ascendant over Eloquence of any nation whereof we have memory or acquaintance, and so derived it to Rome, and thereby for any thing I know) to all the West, so know I not whether this great critic (for even so his own age acknowledged him, insomuch that Eunapius whose profession this was, and who hath put upon the file the Eminent of his Time, mentions him no otherwise then {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, and from thence Athens herself not only employed him to put an asterism or spit upon Spurious things of the Ancients, but the glorious and unfortunate Zenobia gave him occasion of bravely dying for her in being her Secretary) may not now though hoary and dismembered (for time hath wasted him to what you see) find acceptance with a person that in the Hurricans of these great Transactions, is serenely pleased to throw off the public person, and adopt into his tenderness and protection all that, unto which worth and letters may make a claim.  
'Tis an easy objection, my Lord, that from the difference of Tongue, and Time (which ever change the conceptions of men) this piece must be looked on as obsolete, and to this age not at all pertinent, as that which expects men to learn their Eloquence from their own Genius, rather than the Schools, which manacle it with these old maxims; but yet if we will remember that though the old tactics and Stratagems are, by the invention of Gunpowder made in effect useless in this age, yet the greatest Captains have made considerable use of them, and from Histories of different Climes and governments, Politicians draw no small advantage; so in this very point of Oratory, if we remember how those wrestled with the disadvantage of single nature, and at last threw it into Rule, reigned over the minds of men, and did many strange things, we may consider that these old precepts may very well conduct the greatest wits, and the sharpest observators, through those obstacles which otherwise they might not so easily overcome, as we see logic files and keens the Reason of many men, who otherwise had been blunt and in the wedge, and in Tongues, (which is the only distinction of man from Beast) 'Tis a rare happiness perfectly to overcome any one without grammar.  
Though I am to yield thus much, that the Crisis of eloquence is not a little altered; In Senates and Harangues to the people length was necessary, for the same men acted both parts, (and that in a single city) & that which was necessary to gain the people, degenerated in time to be in fashion in counsel, so that this was played for a prize, and was held so far unnecessary, that as if the best Masters had not been enough, it was the care of parents themselves to instruct their children, who seeing it the readiest way of advancement, were not like to be wanting in emulation and endeavour, whereas now the Scene is changed, and (in Civil matters) we are to speak to the few and not the many: For as the corruption of time hath diseased most Governments into Monarchies, so the least of these few populacies now in being, is too great to be included in the same walls, or brought to the hearing of one voice (long studied Orations being become useless) and therefore as men now endeavour to sum up their Notions, and draw them into a sharp angle, expecting reason should overcome, so in the management and conveyance of that reason, there must be needful so many artifices, charms, masteries, and such subtle conducts, that without them a man cannot so well obtain his end, and a man of skill that brings not so much force of reason may easily avoid them.  
By this time it must be necessary (since I have talked so boldly) that I explain my conception of Eloquence, which though I think 'tis such a thing as we may rather Ideate and wish then describe, yet when once a man is of opinion (and I think there are few dissentors) that the end of Oratory is to persuade or Gain, I think he wants not a description, which if I may language is this, A way of speech prevailing over those whom we design it prevail. This is if we will take it in the short or laconic way, a distilling our Notions into a quintessence, or forming all our thoughts in a Cone, and smiting with the point; if the more spacious or Asiatic 'tis hard to describe, but in its own manner, 'Tis what Tully says of the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, Resultance and to be gathered not expressed, the Galileans Via lactea a conflux of lesser stars clear yet undistinguished, the Chymist's elixir containing all Qualities in it, yet not one perceivable; 'Tis Empire wholly commanding, yet never to be commanded.  
But this my Lord is a thing so unattainable, and Nature hath seemed to have placed it so far above the reach of man, that notwithstanding all the address and advantage it gives to public persons, all the means and establishment of future fame, the number of orators truly great, is scarce equal to those precedent ages wherein letters have thriven: The encouragement of Greece and Rome brought it up in their several times to an admirable height, but this was so fatal and so vertical, that it could in neither country stay an age in its Meridian, but it declined immediately; And in that Age it was but one or two who by sovereignty of Genius and strange indulgence of their stars could become consummate, and triumph in a true perfection, though many others offered at it, rather to the commendation of their excellent endeavours, or their happiness in some particular kind, then in attaining the whole Tour entregent, and sway thereof.  
It must therefore have somewhat I cannot tell how divine in it, for it depends not of the single amassing or embroidery of words, there must be in it, excellent knowledge of Man, deep and studied acquaintance with the passions, a man must not only know very perfectly the agitations of his own mind, but be seen and conversant in those of others, he must know all what the Sciences & Prudence teach, what history hath remembered, he must know the instinct, and regular motions of nature that all may proportionably resemble her that she may never be overdone, or too near the life. And yet all this without somewhat which I cannot express, is but the smallest part that goes to the building up of such a prodigy, there must be somewhat ethereal, somewhat above man, much of a soul separate, that must animate all this, and breath into it a fire to make it both warm and shine.  
I conceive therefore my Lord, that this being a business wherein man can only, and that so hardly, be excellent, and withal a thing of so tender a nature and easy to be offended in, that the observations of regular and vast minds ought not to be neglected in it, especially considering how easy and willing we are to adventure and transgress, in things which nature seems of herself to teach us, and therefore was I the readier to make this publication in acknowledgement of what myself had profited by this curious monument, and having no better Present, I was encouraged by your lordship's general indulgence and affection to all learning, to make this choice not without deep acknowledgement of your lordship's favours to myself, which besides the shape and apprehension of your great worth, fully seated and ruling in my soul, will time in all the thoughts and actions of my life, zealously to aim at the Honour of Being  
My most honoured Lord, Your most devoted and faithful servant J. Hall.   

To the Reader.  
THough I am of the unfittest making for a translator in the world, yet the Generosity and Spirit of this author, besides the exercise of the Tongue, engaged me some years past to adventure this Translation, and the rather for that I saw him so excellent a Judge, and so many men, to my thinking, pretending to be critics in things of this nature, and that but out of very little reason, that I thought it was some service to them, and possibly a right to some ingenuities and a means to bring true writing into esteem, and discover that much of tinsel and Sophisticate which now passes as currant: though to the disadvantage of my author, the air and vivacity of whose Spirit is such, as it is impossible to be rendered; and therefore it was in my thoughts and preparations to discourse several things by way of Commentary which he had only touched and glanced at, or time had bereaved us of his, or were relating to the point in hand. Besides so me light to Antiquity, which was but necessary to a full understanding of him. But called on to other employments, and considering the length and weight of the Book was not only too much for me, but such as the Stationer was not willing to undergo, I suffer it to pass thus naked, though it had been but necessary, that even for justification of the Translation, I had made use of some short Notes. However if I have done ill I have not done much, and I am less criminal because I have not offended in any great Volume and the thing it self, I confidently say, is of such worth, that I am only to beg a forgiveness for my own defects.   

ΠΕΡΊ ὝΨΟΥΣ: Dionysius Longinus OF THE HEIGHT OF ELOQVENCE.  
WHen you and I (my dear Posthumius Terentianus) had together perused, (as you remember) Cecilius his book of Height, methought, besides that it was not carried on with a greatness proportionate to the Subject, it blanched many unnecessary points, and requited not the Reader with that profit which every diligent Writer ought principally to endeavour. Now there being in the handling of every Art, two things principally required, First, To demonstrate the Subject, and Secondly, (though it be first by power and use) how and by what means we may obtain it; Cecilius hath taken a great deal of pains to show what Height is, as though we had not known it before, but how we may advance our Natures to some degree of excellency, he hath quite neglected to set down, for what reason I know not, unless perhaps it be that he judged it unnecessary. But it is better justice to commend the man for his pains and curiosity, then to blame him for what is deficient.  
But since it is your pleasure I should say somewhat of the same theme, let me see if for your sake I can produce any thing that may be serviceable to civil persons. But you (sweet friend) who best can and aught, must in every particular give me your truest judgement; for it was well said of Him, who being asked wherein we are like the Gods, answered, in Truth and goodness.  
Now writing to you that are such a knowing Lover of Learning, I am almost eased of the trouble of Prefacing by laborious Hypotheses, That the bravest and most shining parts of Speech are Height, that Height to which Poets and other Authors owe their Eminency, and by which they have made their names to flourish in all ages. For these sublimities do not only win, but astonish their Hearers, and generally high and noble passages smite sooner, and o'ertop those others that are rather disposed for persuasion or ornament. For though Persuasion be to be accounted amongst such things as are commonly in our power, yet those things that have within them force and an irresistible violence orepell the hearer and overcome him. And whereas the vivacity of Invention, the harmony and order of Disposition cannot be discerned out of one or two clauses, but difficultly make themselves appear in a general Survey of the whole fabric; Height wheresoever it seasonably breaks forth, bears down all before it like a whirlwind, and presently evidences the strength and ability of the speaker. But of things of this and the like nature, experience hath enabled you (sweetest Terentianus) to direct and judge.  

§. 2.  
But we must in the beginning clear the question, whether Height or Depth be an Art, because there have not been some a wanting that thought them in an error that endeavoured to draw it into Rules and Observations. For greatness (say they) must be innate to our Genius, not acquired, and the only way to obtain it is to be born a possessor of it; for (as they think) the works of Nature are impaired and lessened when they suffer under the harsh Anatomy of Art. But I can evidently disprove their assertion, if we will consider that as Nature in matter of passion and exaggeration is commonly free and careless, so generally in all other cases she follows a secret kind of order, and declines irregularity. Now she indeed affords the first elements and materials of every thing, but for increase, opportunity, and Height, she leaves it to the determination and power of method: And as those things are most dangerous to themselves, that are not poized with any Art, but left to float on their own bottom; so are Great things when hurried on with an unadvised boldness, and left to hang on their own weight; so that a Spur is not more necessary to the one than a bit to the other. And as Demosthenes said, the greatest blessing in all the life of man was to be Happy, and next to it (though it were no less valuable) to Deliberate soberly, which who wanted could not be said to enjoy the former; the like may I say of Speech, That Nature without Art is blind and imperfect. 
And kept the ravenous flames within their chimney,  
Could I but catch one housekeeper alone,  
I'd take a squirt of fire and burn the house  
And presently reduce it into Cinders,  
But yet I have not heard the pleasant song.  These are not tragical at all but Bombast, Squirts of fire, Vomit as high as heaven, to make Bore as a pipe, and other like trash; but these things proceed rather from a troubled then fierce fancy, and if you look on any of them by the light of Reason, they by degrees slip from the terror (which they menace at first sight) into a poor and contemptible lowness. And if in a Tragedy which is naturally high and capable of elevation, it be unpardonable to swell out of season, how may we think it suits with calm and sober Orations? For such as this was Leontinus Gorgias laughed at, when he called Xerxes the Jupiter of the Persians, and griffins living sepulchers. Such as these, though they are not heights but racked extensions, are common with Calisthenes, and much more with Clitarchus, a fellow made up of Puff paste and Cork, and one that (as Sophocles said) plays on the small pipe without a muzzle. Such are Amphicrates, Hegesias, and Matris, who many times when they conceive themselves in a fury, vent not raptures but childish petulancies; insomuch that it appears one of the nicest cautions in all Speech to beware of Tumour; for all men naturally aim at high things, and ambitiously avoid the imputation of drought or weakness, and therefore suffer themselves to be carried on I know not how) beyond their due bounds, perhaps under this persuasion, That To fail in great things is a noble Crime. But fungous and empty inflations are evil in an Oration, as well as in a natural body, and for the most part produce effects contrary to those for which they were intended, for nothing (as we say) is drier than a man in a dropsy. Now as this boisterous stuff boils up above just greatness, so a chil●ish flatness, which is a poor sneaking and ignoble evil on the contrary directly opposes it. But what is this childishness? A scholastic affectation with a great deal of pains laboured into coldness, into which they fall who endeavouring either an exact flosculent, or delightfully formed speech make use of ill-favoured Tropes, and bad imitation. To these we may add a third Incident to the passions, Theodorus calls it {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, which is either an unseasonable use of passion when there is no occasion, or immoderate use of it when there is but ordinary occasion. Now those who use it like drunken men are carried on with their own peculiar and artificial passions, which are not at all consistent with the work in hand, and trifle away a great deal of action before their unengaged and sleepy auditors, and very likely, when they themselves are elevated, the others are not stirred at all. But we shall more largely discuss the business of Passions in another place.   

§. 3.  
But for the other Vice, that I mean of coldness, Tymaeus is full of it, a man otherwise able enough and sometime in high Eloquence not unfortunate, and of a various knowledge and acute discourse, but that he is implacable to other men's errors, and insensible of his own. Besides that out of newfangledness, he many times slips into very childish and low Absurdities. One or two of which I will now produce, and the rather because Cecilius did not stick to quote far more of him. When he commends Alexander the Great, he says he overcame Asia in fewer years than Isocrates composed his panegyric against the Persians. A very rare parallel indeed of so great a conqueror and a Sophister. But by this account of yours, Tymaeus, it will soon appear that the lacedaemonians were far inferior in point of valour to Isocrates, for whereas they were thirty years in taking Messana, he writ his panegyric in ten. But when the Athenians were defeated in Sicily, what a strange exclamation does he burst into? Because they had offended Mercury and maimed his Statues they were punished, and the rather for one man Hermocrates the son of Hermon, who had some guilt entailed upon him from his Ancestors. I have stranged with myself (sweetest Terentianus) why he writ not also against Dionysius the tyrant, since he exercised many bold impieties against Jove and Hercules, for which Dion and Heraclides turned him out of his government. But what speak we of Tymaeus, when those Heroes (Xenophon I mean and Plato) that had been under the Tuition of Socrates, have through these littlenesses sometimes forgot themselves? For thus writes the later in his Book of the policy of Sparta; you shall no more hear them speak then if they were all stone, you shall no more see their eyes turn thou if they were brass, nay you will suppose them more modest than the virgins in our eyes. It had become Amphicrates and not Xenophon to call the apples of eyes modest virgins: but what a folly were it to believe that the apples of all eyes are shamefaced, since the impudence of some men is not otherwise discovered then by their eyes? and therefore Homer terms such a kind of person, A Dog-eyed Drunkard. Yet had Tymaeus such an itch to be meddling with it that he could not be content to let Xenophon alone enjoy such a poorness; This therefore he says in Agathocles, He that would steal away his niece that had been bestowed on another, on the day of her marriage, I dare say hath not virgins in his eyes, but whores. What difference is there betwixt this and that of the otherwise divine Plato, who being to name Note-books, says, They shall place the Cypress memorials among the holy things: And again, For my part Megillus I should advise the Spartans to let their walls lie and sleep on the ground, but by no means to raise them up again? Nor is that of Herodotus afar off, when he calls women a sickness of the eye: Although this may be said in his excuse, that those whom he makes speak it are drunken Barbarians. But it is not handsome under the pretence of such persons to commit these sordid poornesses unto memory.   

§. 4.  
All these extreme unbecommingnesses have defaced Eloquence upon no other ground then the lechery that some men have to declare their notions with somewhat of novelty, a crime passionately courted at this day. For we must note that from those very causes from whence we derive our best things we commonly use to receive very near the contrary inconveniencies. Hence the happiness of composure, the strengths, beauties, and allurements of Eloquence, as they may fortunately succeed, so are the foundations and hypotheses of their contraries to be considered in the same Nature. The like we are to suppose of Hyperboles and Plurals. Now in the following discourse I shall show the danger that men conceive in them, and therefore it will be very necessary to inquire and resolve by what means we may avoid those vices which commonly sully and deform very excellent heights. And this (friend) we cannot better do then if we first possess ourselves of a right knowledge and judgement of what is just and true Height: though I confess I do not look on this as a thing so easily feasible; for to judge rightly of a book is but the reward and happiness of a great experience; yet notwithstanding (to tell you so much by the way) I conceive it not impossible, but a considerate mind may even from this Treatise, find a way to make himself master of it.   

§. 5.  
Now my dear Terentianus, we are to note that as it happens in the course of life, there is nothing great which we can say it is noble in any man to contemn; as for instance, Wealth, Honour, Repute, Empire, and all those other things that to the outward appearance seem most majestic. For certainly no rational man can think these so absolutely good when 'tis no mean happiness to despise them, and therefore they must necessarily admire them that might enjoy them if they pleased, but through royalty of mind despise them. The like we are also to judge of all Elations in Poesy and Oratory, lest some things which may appear big and lusty and (at the first sight) wrought with a great deal of skill, when they come to be weighed become miserably empty, and much fitter for contempt then wonder. For indeed naturally our souls are so inflamed by true heights that they generally elevate themselves, and in a transport of joy and wonder own and father those great things that are presented to them, as if themselves had produced them.  
Therefore when we hear any wise and eloquent man utter and repeat any thing that touches and pierces not, and fastens no more in the mind then a mere remembrance that it was spoken, but after serious consideration decays and vanishes, this we cannot call true Height, as that which can scarce outlast the hearing. For that indeed is only truly noble which will stand to the test of a scrutinous consideration, and which so possesses us that we are not able to forget it; for the memory is greedy and will not shake hands with a thing acceptable. But believe you those things to be only truly and exquisitely high, that can please all men and at all times; therefore when you see men of different customs opinions and ages unanimously approve one speech, it is to be supposed that the judgement of so many various minds consenting therein is uncontrollable and to be acquiesced in.   

§. 6  
Now since there are five most rich fountains (if I may term them so) of sublime Eloquence, (we supposing the faculty of Oratory as a common base to these five pillars of the building without which we cannot build at all) The first and indeed the most royal is regular vastness of thought (as we have already declared when we writ concerning Xenophon). The second, fierce and transporting passion. (But these two are commonly received from the indulgency of Nature, these other we must be indebted for to Art and Industry.) The third, a right fashioning and variation of Figures, (which again are two, those of sentence and those of speech.) The fourth is generous and select phrase, which we must subdivide into choice of words, and flourishing elaborate elocution. The fifth and that which indeed consummates all the rest is nobility and beauty of disposition. And now let us consider the latitude and extent of each of these Ideas, premising thus much, that Cecilius hath not mentioned some of these five, as for example Passion. But if he thought height of mind and vehemence of passion to be the same, or congenial and producing the same effects, he is much deceived. For there are some passions which are low and miserable, as Regret, Sorrow, and Fear, which cannot be allied to Height; and besides there are abundance of heights which are wholly dispassionate. For example (not to instance a thousand others) what a daring speech of the Poet is this concerning the Aloidae? 
They would have Ossa on Olympus' thrown  
And over that the shady Pelion  
For to scale heaven—  But that which is biggest of all — And they had done it too. So among the orators those speeches which are either panegyrical or else pompous and ostentatory are proudly full of sublimity and bravery, though commonly void of passion. Hence is it that an orator that can best move the affections is the unfittest to praise, and he to praise that can best charm the affections. And if again Cecilius conceived that passion was not sometimes necessary to Height, and consequently not worth the mentioning, he is grossly mistaken. For I confidently affirm it, that above all other things whatever, Generous passions make men speak the most illustrious things, and breathe such a gallant and admirable madness that there is nothing nearer divine inspiration.   

§. 7.  
Now for that which I placed first as indeed the most considerable of all, vastness of thought, it will be necessary we examine whether it be merely natural or possibly acquirable, though notwithstanding we ought to nurture our souls to greatness, and impregnate them (as I may say) to thoughts high and extraordinary. But by what means say you? I have said here and upon other occasions, that this greatness was but an Image or Resultance of the mind. Hence is it that many naked sentences, wanting the advantage of a voice, are admired merely for their strength and worth. For instance, the silence of Ajax in {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} [{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}] is stately and indeed more forcible than any speech. We are therefore first to inquire for a foundation upon which all this may be built, and then we shall find that an orator ought not to have any thing in his thoughts low or unworthy. For 'tis impossible that men whose thoughts are daily cageoled to servile and mean designs can produce any thing miraculous and fit to survive to all Generations; for we must conceive that those men speak the bravest things that have the fullest and lustiest thoughts; therefore men of vast spirits speak the hugest things. Thus [Alexander] to Parmenio telling him, I should have been satisfied  
as I am Alexander; And so I protest I would if I were Parmenio. This shows a Royalty of spirit. And the like of Homer, in a description of Eris or strife, She walks on earth, yet her head reaches heaven.  
This any man will easily apprehend to be rather the stature of Homer's mind then of Eris. How unlike to which is that of Hesiod in his shield (if you will allow it his) Her nostrils dropped base nasty matter— Here he makes his Idea not terrible but hateful. But see the other [Homer] aggrandise his divinities, 
So much of Air as a surveying eye  
Freely stretched o'er the Ocean can espy,  
So far the Gods high-crested horses leap  
At once—  Measuring (you see) their leaps by the breadth of the horizon. Would not any man then probably astonished at these vast conceptions, cry out, If these horses of the Gods should leap twice, there were no room in the world for them to leap a third time?  
Now observe but how gigantic and transcendent are those images about the [Giants] fight with the Gods: 
Olympus, nay even heaven echoed round, and,  
Pluto the God of shades trembling below  
And starting from his throne, must Neptune now  
(Venting his fears, cried he) the earth divide  
And with his Waters in these caves abide,  
These horrid ghastly miserable abodes  
Unknown to light and hated of the Gods?   
See here (friend) the earth shaken, broken, and clefted, nay even hell itself laid open, apprehending a turn and dissolution of the whole; nay altogether Heaven, Earth, Mortals, Immortals equally endangered and concerned in this fight. But these are terrible, and, unless allegorically understood, absolutely atheistical and indeed improper. For truly Homer (if my opinion be any thing) when he brings in his Gods wounded, siding, revenging, weeping, bound, suffering in losses; makes the actors in the Trojan war, as far as lies in him, Gods, and the God's men. For death to us is a certain haven and reposure after all unhappiness; but he made the nature and infelicity of his Gods equally eternal. Those things are far better which he says of the same fight, when he mentions no Godhead but as great (as it is very just) pure and incorruptible; for example (though many before have noted the place) 
— Each Mountain trembled, and each wood  
Where the immortal feet of Neptune trod.  
He drove to th'Sea, where the glad Whales advance  
From their vast holes and to their Monarch dance,  
(Knowing his power) they rather fly then glide,  
Whilst the glad Seas their trembling waves divide.   
Thus the lawgiver of the Jews, and an excellent person, after he had sufficiently declared the power of the Divinity, and acknowledged it, in the very beginning of the Book of his Laws said, God spoke; what? Let there be light, and there was light: Let there be earth, and there was earth. Pray you, my noble friend, think me not troublesome, if out of the Poet I make bold to quote one thing, and such a one as concerns the affairs of mankind, and that for instruction sake, that we may know a means, and learn the custom how to aggrandise our natures to these heroic pitches. There was a darkness suddenly happened and a dismal obscurity waited on it which withheld the Grecians from fight; Ajax being at a stand, says; 
Dear Jove clear up these mists, let th'Grecians see  
A clearer day and not still darkened be;  
Give day and let me perish—  Nothing can be more like Ajax than this passion; for he begs not life of Jupiter; (that had been a Petition much below an Hero) but when he considered that the night made men uncapable of showing their valour, or at least, the mist would render them undistinguished, he breaks into disdain and begs a sudden approach of light, as one that would find himself a sepulchre worthy of his valour, though Jove himself would combat with him. Herein Homer pursues combats with equal violence, a man engaged and in fury could do no other. 
Like dreadful Mars or hungry fires that rove  
In their free rage and prey upon a grove,  
He foamed for very wrath.  And indeed we may perceive by the Odysses (this in many respects is worth our consideration) great minds in their declination stagger into Fabling; for 'tis apparent out of many visible inferences, that the Odysses were a second work of the Poets as additional to what he had formerly treated of the war of Troy; and thus much you cannot but acknowledge from those griefs and lamentations we find there, which we must suppose to be made to people that knew them before; for I may justly say the Odysses were but a corollary to the Iliads. 
Here lies stout Ajax; here Achilles; here  
Patroclus, whose great mind the Gods might steer;  
And here mine own dear son—  From this very cause I think it proceeds that the Iliads written in the strength and exaltation of his spirit were wholly full of life and action; But the Odysses solely abound with Narrations which is the property of old Age, so that in them a man may compare Homer to the setting Sun, who though he have lost much of his vigour retains his greatness: For indeed he preserves not the magnificence, the stayed height, the collections, constant Gravity, brave uniting of different passions, subtle conduct and depths of Policy, shadowed and veyld with appearances of Truth. But as the unquiet Ocean removes itself and deserts those shores it had formerly overflown; so may we say of him, that this remainder was the ebb of his greatness, though this will seem very improbable to such as are delighted with Fables, or will remain incredulous. When I say this I forget not the Tempests, the Cyclops, and many others; but I put a remark on old Age, or to say better, the old age of Homer: Only in these that I am now to quote the Fabulous part very much exceeds the real. I have digressed thus far as I formerly intimated, that I might show how the most consummate minds being once in the wane, become darkened by the greatest follies: to go no further for instance then the story of the enchanted Bottles; Circe's transformed hogs, which Zollus pleasantly called weeping swine; the nursing of Jove by Doves [or the Pleiades] He that after shipwreck lived 10 days without meat; and these absolute impossibilities of slaying the wooers; what can a man think otherwise of these but as excellent dreams? Another question will now arise why I so often mention the Odysses, and I must answer; To make it appear how far decrepit wits dwindle into things that concern manners, as the things morally related to Ulysses [at his return concerning his wife and wooers,] seem to carry the shape and fashion of an exact Comedy.   

§. 8.  
To pursue our business we'll consider whether there be any more ways to advance Eloquence and render it Illustrious. Now since upon every occasion or subject there are some parts or circumstances that must necessarily relate unto it, we shall find a very good advantage to our intentions if we will choose the best of those things that offer themselves unto us, and so cement them together that (like Musive work) they may appear altogether but as one thing; for choice of the most considerable notions, and beauteous disposure and crowding them together persuades not the Reader, but enforces him. Thus did Sapph single out all those accidents that are either inherent or consequential to love and melancholy, and, apprehending what they are, really dispose them to the best advantage. But where appears this great skill? she knew how to call out the greatest and bravest things, and then to mould them into proportion and correspondency: 

He that sits next thee now and hears  
Thy charming voice to me appears  
Beauteous as any Deity  
That rules the sky.   

How did his pleasing glances dart  
Sweet languors to my ravished heart!  
At the first sight thou so prevailed  
That my voice failed.   

I'm speechless, feau'rish, fires assail  
My fainting flesh, my sight doth fail,  
Whilst to my restless mind my ears  
Still hum new fears.   

Cold sweats and tremblings so invade  
That like a withered flower I fade,  
So that my life being almost lost  
I seem a Ghost.   Yet since I'm wretched I must dare.  
Wonder you not at this? The soul, the body, the tongue, the ears, the eyes, the complexion, things so widely different are here by a strange artifice brought together, and according to her several contrary agitations; how she burns, how she freezes, how she raves, & how she deliberates! for either she's in fear or at the point of death; so that it appears not a single passion, but a conflux and general rendezvouz of them all; yet all this is no less than what any lover undergoes. Now the choice as I have told you of the best, and handsome disposure hath wrought up this excellency, and thus in my opinion the Poet mentioning a tempest brings in the terriblest things can be expected. Now he that writ the Arimaspeia conceived these circumstances full of dread; 
'Tis strange nor can our thoughts the reason tell,  
Men far from Land in Seas and Water dwell,  
All are unhappy though their task be hard,  
Their thoughts in th' Sea, their eyes to heaven reared;  
Whilst to the careless Gods their hands they heave.  
And the searched entrails no assurance give.   
I think any man may conceive that this is very pleasant and flosculent: But to show you what Homer hath done in this point, I will give you this one instance in stead of many. 
He fell, as on a ship an angry wave  
Tossed by the wind which forcibly doth rave  
Covering her all with froth, whilst whirlwinds shake  
Their Masts, and the despairing seamen quake,  
Seeing how little distant they're from death.  This did Aratus endeavour to imitate; A little timber keeps them out of hell. Now in steed of making the business dreadful he hath made it smooth and little, for he ended their danger when he says, Keeps them out of Hell, that is to say, secures them. Now the Poet not content with the single mention of their danger describes them continually and variously perishing, and ready to be swallowed up by every wave. Besides, how fitly hath he brought together two prepositions of a different nature, forcing them as it were in despite of their singularity to join, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, the verse being troubled like the passion it treats of. Now this fainting of the verse doth the most naturally resemble fear of any thing possible, having so properly languaged the danger that were it real it could not produce any thing more passionate; {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Thus Archilochus in his Poem called the shipwreck, and Demosthenes of the coming of Tidings, It grew toward night, says he. But these men (some will tell me) choosing the most illustrious things that had been said, and knitting them according to their several worths into one piece, produced nothing that was swelling, unbecoming, or pedantic. For such things infect the whole like washes, but great Buildings are raised up by the correspondence of parts one towards another.   

§. 9  
Another virtue colleague to these is Amplification, that is, when, the Subject bearing it, causes and circumstances are considered and thrown into such Periods and turns and stoops, that they are so encircled and twisted one with another, that they mount up by equal steps to just greatness, and this either upon the handling a Common-place, or upon exaggeration, or justification of an action, or strengthening an argument, methodizing Relations, or Passions, and millions of other. Now must the orator know that none of these can stand by it self, but it is utterly lame without Height, unless it be in cases of commiseration or extenuation; But for all other Amplifications, deprive them but of Height, and like soulless carcases they fall down dead. For that which is forcible in them if not strengthened and backed with Height, languishes and decays immediately. Now what we at present speak is of a very different nature from what we have formerly said, for that was merely a dischesiling of the general design, and considering it all together; but now we are to consider how far Heights and Amplifications differ in the main, and that we shall briefly and perspicuously determine.   

§. 10.  
I am to confess that I am very much dissatisfied with the definition which they who have treated of this Art generally give; Amplification (say they) is that which brings a lustre or nobleness to the subject matter. This may as well be a common definition to Heights, Passions and Tropes, which all derive lustre and greatness to what they treat of. Now (to me) there appears a very great difference between Height and Amplification: from the first we must expect elation, from the second, plenty; therefore we often find the one in a particular sentence, the other must come in a Bulk and out of abundance. For Amplification (to be short in the business) is a comprehension of all those circumstances that concern the matter, and enforcement of the memory to a compliance with the design in hand; and so it differs from strong argument, because it must be admitted to the determination of the controversy.  
Thus does greatness oftentimes richly pour forth itself, and like a large ocean overwhelm all round about it. Hence is it I conceive this orator to be so nobly passionate in his Orations, and have so much of flame and fiery agitation of mind. Now he retaining his majesty and becoming magnificence decays not at all: but methinks, Terentianus, in other places he doth not so well turn and wind himself as here; yet this I shall not so confidently affirm, because possibly we Grecians are no competent judges of Cicero. Now Cicero and Demosthenes differ very much in their Heights, for those of Demosthenes are summed up into brevity, those of Cicero spread themselves at full. Our orator is so forcible that with his fierceness, swiftness, and strength, as a whirlwind or thunderbolt, he overthrows and burns all. Now Cicero is like a prevailing conflagration preying upon all, continually mounting, and not easy to be extinguished, but ever enlarging itself, as indeed it is in him, varying it many ways, but yet perpetually nourished and shining. But of these things yourself may better judge. Now the Demosthenicall elevation is then proper when we have occasion to exaggerate, when we would violently burry all before us with great passion, and indeed at once storm the mind of the auditor and take him in. The other greatness which is copious and Asiatic is then to be used when we have a mind to stroke and surprise the Auditors with some blandishments, when we have any common place to handle, in all expatiations and digressions, in all relations demonstrations, or histories, in all descriptions of natural things, besides a many other occasions whereunto this plentiful way of speech is much more serviceable than the restrained.   

§. 11.  
Nay that Plato too (for I return from this digression) like a deep river glides smoothly and silently, yet notwithstanding wants not his sublimities, you yourself must acknowledge if you read his politics. Now these says he, that are strangers to wisdom and virtue, and lavish their time in banquets and such entertainments, methinks are perpetually sinking downward, and do nothing but straggle all their lives through, for their eyes are too feeble ever to look upon truth, much less to gaze on her and admire her: Nor did they ever taste any real or steadfast pleasures, but like beasts lay perpetually grovelling and poring on the earth, considering no further than their victuals, with which being once glutted and satisfied, there is nothing to do but to dance and wanton. Hence is it that the greediness of these things increasing with the debauchery, they assail one another with a mutual rage, and fighting with iron horns and hooves perish in this brutal avarice. Now this great man here shows us if we will but be content to learn from him, that there is another way unto Height besides those we formerly mentioned: and what should this be? A diligent and strict imitation of such famous Poets and Writers as have gone before us. And this is a mark, my dear friend, that we ought to spend all our skill and industry to hit exactly: For many are so rapt and transported with the conceptions of another, that they are possessed like the Pithia raving upon her Tripos, where there is a cleft of the earth breathes up (as they say) a strong inspiring vapour, which seizing the prophetess shakes her, and fills her with such divine furies that she raves out mysteries and prophecies accordingly. Such kind of airs and vapours shoot themselves from the admirable writings of ancient Authors, as it were from some secret cave, which breath upon the souls of their imitators though possibly not made for such high transports, and swell them up into a greatness like their own. Herodotus was in a manner a sole imitator of Homer, and before him Stesichorus and Archilochus, but none more studiously followed him then Plato, who derived many streams from Homer's great River into his own channels. Nor are we to call this theft, but a representation of the best Thoughts, Artifices or Inventions. Yet doth he not seem to me to mingle these so commonly with his Philosophy, or ordinarily to digress into poetical expressions or conceptions: but only when with a settled purpose he endeavours to dispute pre-eminence with Homer (though already settled in a high reputation) which he doth with so much eagerness, that skirmishing (as it were) with him he often not unfortunately enters the lists, and maintains the Combat: but as Hesiod says — These strifes are good in men— And indeed these are the noblest and worthiest contentions that are about the crown of glory, for in this to be overcome by ones predecessors is not dishonourable.   

§. 12.  
Therefore when we go about any thing which should carry in it sublimity of spirit, it will be very good strongly to imagine in ourselves how Homer if there were occasion would have said such a thing, how Plato, how Demosthenes would have raised it, or if it be in History, how Thucydides; for by that means such illustrious shapes appearing to us, and, as it were, conversing with us, whisper unto us expressions to shadow out what we shall conceive; or rather if we can possess ourselves with a jealousy, how Homer if he were present, or Demosthenes would judge of such a thing. For it is no mean incitement unto glory for a man to propose unto himself such a Theatre and such a tribunal, and to have such Heroes the judges or advocates of his writings, and this in realty. Above all this there is nothing more incites then if you weigh with yourself how every succeeding eye would receive those things which are in writing. Now if a man be afraid lest he may live to see the funeral of what he goes about, it is an evident sign that his conceptions are but flat, narrow, abortive, and shapeless, and not able to endure and survive to the enjoyment of any future glory.   

§. 13.  
Now is youth to be acquainted, that Pomp, wealth of Speech, proud Emulations, are by no means better acquired then by fantasies, which some have called {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} [or inward images of things.] Now by fantasy is generally understood any conception which may be fashioned into Speech; but more particularly it hath prevailed to be accepted only of such representations as being to be worded, thou wilt be so agitated with fury and passion as to think thou really seest them, and so make them visible even to the hearers. Notwithstanding you must take this by the way, that a rhetorical and poetical fantasy are quite different, for that which the Poet ought to aim at is Amazement, that which the orator, clearness and conviction, yet both of them equally require commotion or agitation. 
O mother I beseech thee send not hither  
These serpent-haired, these bloody-visaged hags.  
O they're at hand, and now begin to seize me.  and O she will slay me, whither shall I fly? Here the Poet himself saw not these furies, yet so imaged them that he almost forced the spectators to believe they were before their eyes. And indeed to speak truth Euripides is very diligent in exalting and enflaming of those two grand agitations of love and madness, and in them (I cannot say in the rest) extremely fortunate, although he hath not wanted courage to attempt other fantasies: for though his mind was not framed with the greatest, yet hath he often forced it into many brave raptures and tragical excesses, but especially greatnesses, that we may apply to him that of the Poet [speaking of a Lion] 
Then with his tail lashing his sides and thighs  
He gathers wrath and to the combat flies.  Now when the Sun delivers the reins of his chariot to Phaeton; 
Drive, but be sure thou shun the Afric sky,  
For she no moisture hath to cool the heat  
Of thy hot wheels—  And afterward, 
Towards the seven Pleiades Child bend thy course.  
He bearing this eagerly snatched the reins,  
And sharply lashing the swift fiery steeds,  
Gave rein: they through the airs blew convex flew,  
Whilst that his Father as Postilion rode  
Instructing him which way and how to drive;  
But he drove up and down—  Would not any man say the soul of Euripides hath here taken coach with Phaeton, and with like danger was hurried along by the horses? for it had been impossible for him to have figured such things, had not his thoughts been mightily elevated in the contemplation of what was done in heaven. Parallel to these is that in his Cassandra, But O Horse-loving Trojans— Now Aeschylus was very daring in these heroical conceptions, let this in his Seven at Thebes demonstrate, 
— Seven stout undaunted Captains,  
Slaying a Bull upon a broad black shield,  
Covenanted by oath to Mars and fierce Enyo  
And pale bloodthirsty fear—  They without remorse mutually swearing their own deaths: and yet as he sometimes flags into thoughts not only little and inconsiderable, but deformed and unpolished; so Euripides out of an affectation of honour imbarks himself in the same danger. Thus in Aeschylus, when the court of Lycurgus was divinely agitated at the unexpected appearance of Bacchus,  
The Court grew furious & the roofs 〈◊〉 rage. Euripides speaks the same thing though he speak it otherwise: — The whole mountain raged. Nay and Sophocles admirably represents Oedipus dying in the midst of a great Tempest and burning himself: As also the setting sail of the Grecians, and likewise the appearance of Achilles from the tomb when they were setting forward. Which very Image I know not who hath drawn better to the life than Simonides. Now these ideas we find in Poets are more fabulously raised (as we said before) and not to be calculated by faith; But the rhetorical are then most excellent when they are efficacious and veritable. But ●igressions are unproper and unsufferable if they ramble into Poetry or fictions, or any thing that seems to carry an impossibility: Yet now adays (forsooth) we see a many of those that would be thought no small orators swell in a tragic manner and seem furies, yet will these brave men condescend to consider or learn that when Orestes says 
Unclasp thou that art one of my tormentors,  
And grasp me not to throw me down—  He imagines these things because he was mad. But then will you say, What use of rhetorical fantasy? Marry to carry on high emulations, and heighten great passions, besides many other; so that being mingled with other Arguments to the purpose, they do not only persuade the Hearer but conquer him. If any (Says the orator) should hear a great noise before the Hall of justice, and some body should bring word that the Prison were broke open, what old or young man would be so unworthy as not to give all possible assistance in this case? But if some passing by should say this is the man [that broke the prison and show him] and he not be admitted to speak, he could not escape sudden death. Thus Hyperides haranguing when he had set free the slaves after the defeat [of Cheronaea] This was (Says he) not done by voices, not by persuasions of orators, but the Battle of Cheronaea. Thus he not only fortifies his argument, but makes way for a fantasy and therefore by this assumption exceeded the common bound and means of persuasion; for naturally in most things of this nature we mostly fix our ears on that which is gallantest; hence are we drawn from the Argumentative part to a smiting fantasy, whereby the other is both hid and enlightened. Nor is it improbable that we should find this effect; for two things joining forces, the greater usurps to itself the force of the lesser. Now for height of conception, bravery of Thought, Imitation, fantasy, and what concerns them, we think what we have said may well suffice.   

§. 14.  
Since we therefore have assigned [Sect. 6.] a proper place to figures, I am to tell you that if they be choicely and regularly inserted, they are not inconsiderable advancements to Height. But since to handle them all at present would be a tedious work, or, to say better, impossible, we will any pitch upon a few of such as conduce to the perfection of Height, and assertion of what we have proposed. Demosthenes remonstrates concerning the management of the commonwealth: but what was the natural use or end thereof? You were not deceived (Athenians) when you undertook to protect the Liberty of Greece, though with your own hazard' nor want ye examples of this at home, nor did they amiss that engaged at Marathon, nor those at Salamis, nor those at Plataeae. But then as though he had been suddenly ravished with divine afflation, and struck into a Transport, he swears by the gallant men of Greece; By all those (Says he) that were in danger at Marathon. Now by this figurate oath (which we will here call an Apostrophe) does he intimate the deification of his Ancestors, calling them though dead to witness, to whom as Gods we ought to appeal. Now he recalling this action into the memory of his Hearers, and raising up his demonstration to such a transcendency and vigour, and confirming it with new and venerable oaths, then giving lenitives and cordials to their spirits, so inflames them with praises that they cannot imagine or expect any thing less from the fight with Philip then victories as signal as those of Marathon and Salamis: and yet they say he had the seed or hint of this from Eupolis [the Comedian] 
Now by my victory at Marathon  
Their merriment shall cause no grief in me.  Now to swear commonly or upon no occasion is little worth, but where, how, upon what occasions, and for what ends [make the Height:] so that here [in Eupolis' verses] there is nothing but a mere oath, and that to the Athenians flourishing and not needing consolation, nor doth this hath imply the death of the men he swears by, that by the virtues of such men he might install some concernment into the minds of his hearers; but in stead of insinuating of dangers makes only a dull mention of a victory. But in Demosthenes the oath wholly levels at them that were overcome, that so the business of Cheronaea might be no longer accounted a great misfortune to the Athenians: So that here at once (as I said before) he not only evinces their war no error, but brings a precedent, the assurance of oath, collaudation and instigation. But some may object to the orator and say, You that are a public Minister and mentioning a defeat swear by a victory. [Answ..] For this cause he weighs his words, and that he may with more safety utter them, he wisely restrains them: (teaching us, that in the greatest debt cherries there must be some sobriety) He says his were in danger at Marathon, he says they had a Sea-fight at Salamis, he says they were 〈◊〉 at Plataeae, not that they overcame, but still he forbears any mention of the event, because it was fortunate and quite contrary to that of Cheronaea. Wherefore suddenly surprising his hearer, he adds, All these (Aeschines) the City buried at the public charge, not only those that returned victorious.   

§. 15.  
Now it will be worth our labour (friend) not to omit one thing which hath fallen into my consideration, and this in a word it is; That Figures are very good servants to Height, and Height a very noble master to Figures: But how and on what occasion I will now set down. It occasions suspicion to infect the use of single figures, and raises a jealousy lest we intend either surprise, deceit, or fallacies, but especially if we address to a judge that hath full power in his hands; much more to a Tyrant, King, or general into, for they stomach, presently if you endeavour to catch them like ●chool-voyes, with un●●bratil pedantries of rhetoric, and interpreting such little Sophistry to be brought in contempt of them, disgust the whole, so that though courted with all the blan●ishments and graces of speech, yet will they never be persuaded. This then is the excellency of a Scheme, that it be 〈…〉 all yet undiscerned: therefore Height and adorned Passion are the most safe disguises and sovereign Remedies for such a suspicion; so that if a man can cunningly throw them into such a posture as that they are overshadowed with Grandezza's and beauties, he avoids all suspicion. We need no better instance then that we had even now, by those at Marathon. But wherein here hath the orator concealed his Figure? [Answ..] 'Tis as clear as light; for see how like as a small gleam approached by the Sun in its full lustre presently disappears; so the Sophistry of rhetoric is wholly overshadowed, being so circumfused and covered by Height. Not unlike this is an observation we find in picture; for after that Lines are drawn upon a plain and colours laid on and shadowed and enlivened, this set In the light projects a pleasant brightness, which is so much the more visible by how much you nearer approach it: even so Heights and Passions of speech neighbouring to our souls, as knit thereunto by a straight alliance, outshine the figures, and only stand in sight, overshadowing their Art and clouding it in obscurity.   

§. 16.  
What shall we then say of Questions and Interrogations? does not any Oration become much more intense and forcible by shaping and moulding figures in this form? Whether will you, I pray you tell me, meeting one another, Ask what news? Can there be any greater than to bear that a man of Macedonia should o'ercome the Athenians and rule in Greece? What is Philip dead? No indeed is he not, but he is sick: but I pray you what will you gain by it? for should he die never so soon, you yourselves would make another Philip. And again he says; Let's sail into Macedonia. But where shall we land asks another? War itself will find out the weaknesses occasioned by the badness of Philip's actions. Now if he had simply propounded the business, it had been inferior and insufficient for its end. Now the suddenness and swift prosecution of Interrogations and answering of Objections, is not only a means of heightening the shape of an Oration, but of rendering it more probable. For the intervention of some hindrances than draw the Hearer more forcibly on, when it seems that they are not raised by [the Orator] himself, but brought forth by occasion. For inquiries to a man's self and sudden resolving of them seem to afford a just opportunity of vehemency. For as if we be asked any question by others, we are obliged to make a present return, and such satisfaction as may clear it out of the truth it self; so the figure of Question and Interrogation makes things that were premeditated to seem to be thought and said on the sudden, and so beguile and seduce the Hearer. And therefore (if there can be any thing higher than this of Herodotus) suppose thus.  
How singly things fall and are in a manner poured forth, preventing in a manner the very Hearer! And joining shields together (Says Xenophon) they pushed, they fought, they slew, they died. And that of Eurylochus, 
We searched the woods (Sir) following your commands,  
Where in the vales Circe's proud Palace stands.  These words thus dislocated yet sped, show a great deal of grief yet both prevailing and moderated. Yet this did the Poet by using by syndetas [or words not chained by Anas.]   

§. 17.  
Besides all this a conflux, of Schemes prevails not a little, that is when two or three joined in an association, lend vigour, prevalescence, and ornament to one another: such are those Asyndeta's against Midias twisted together with anaphoras [or Repetitions] and a Diatyposis [or description] He that beat [him] did many outrages, which he that was beaten could scarce tell to another by gesture, eyes, speech. Therefore lest the speech might relapse into the same things, (for in orderly speeches all things must be quiet and serene; in disorderly, passionate, and proceeding from t●o●ible and commotion of soul) he presently leaps into other Asyndeta's and epanaphoras, when as insulting, when as an enemy, sometimes with his fist, sometimes upon the face. Now the orator by all this endeavours as if he himself had beaten his Client, to work upon the minds of the judges, by a continual addition of new circumstances: then again like a whirlwind making a new assault; These things move, these things enrage men unaccustomed to put up injuries; Whoever relates this can hardly tell how bainous a matter it is. So he still makes use of new epanaphoras and Asyndeta's, yet is always counterchanging them so that his very order seems to be disorderly and his disorders are ranged into a certain kind of order.   

§. 18.  
Now to consider of Conjunctions which [being contrary to Asyndeta's] the followers of Isocrates affect, we must not pass over this; He that beat him did many outrages, first by his gesture, secondly by his looks, and thirdly, even with his voice. Now you must know that this urged in the latter manner neither urges nor exasperates, but being slackened and disjointed by conjunctions falls into an harmless smoothness and extinguishes itself: as if you should tie two together that were running a race, you hinder the speed of both; so passions manacled by conjunctions and other hindrances are smothered and stifled for they deprive them of their liberty and force, which is such as if it were shot from an Engine.   

§. 19  
Under this Idea must we place hyperbatas, which is a troubled and disorderly placing either of words or notions, and indeed the truest character of a struggling and contending passion; as those who are really angered or afraid or provoked, or possessed with jealousy, or any other passion, (for they are innumerable, and 'tis only not impossible to reckon them all) falling from their first thoughts straggle into others, and speak things clean different, interrupting the series of the discourse with some new and improper things, yet at last winding into what they had formerly proposed: And this through vexation of mind, being drawn aside and tossed up and down by a giddy and unruly spirit, disordering and entangling both their words and notions a thousand ways contrary to the conduct and order of reason. So even the most excellent writers have taken occasion to imitate this work of nature, and that by hyperbatas: for than doth Art appear perfect, when she can scarce be distinguished from nature itself; and again nature is ever happy, because she always carries a hidden Art in her own bosom. Such as this was Dionysius Phocensis; Into this pitch of extremity are our affairs fallen, O men of Jonia, that we must either be free, or slaves, or in a manner fugitives. Now if you have a mind to avoid these ensuing calamities, you must presently employ yourselves in labour and hardship, for so having overcome your enemies you will be free men. Now if he had said this in order, he should have said; Men of Jonia, 'Tis now time for you to undergo labour, for your affairs are in a pitch of extremity: But he transposed Men. of Jonia to another place, and then mentions them when he had hinted his fears, lest in the beginning he might have called the hearers to have learned their danger; and after this he wholly inverts the order of his conception, for before he tells them that they were to undergo labour which was his business to persuade them to, he first gives a reason why they ought to undergo it; for, says he, our affairs are in a pitch of extremity; so that he does not seem to speak things forethought, but arising from the occasion. But besides this Thucydides is especially skilful in the severing, dividing, and transposing things of one nature and in a manner inseparable. But Demosthenes adventu●os not so far in this case as Thucydides, who most frequently uses this figure of any other, conceiving it should seem both vehemency, and (if you will) extemporary expression very much furthered by these t●a●ections. Hence is it that he not seldom brings his Auditors into very great danger of long hyperbatas (by oftentimes forsaking the matter he had in hand, and inducing foreign things one upon another, as though it were his order for to hedge in things strange and inconsistent, ho casts the auditor into a fear lest the whole Oration fall to pieces and so enforces him by his attention, equally to rove and wander with himself;) yet unexpectedly after a long time he handsomely returns to his first point and finishes it; with these adventures and excursions, leaving the Hearer in much more astonishment. But I forbear examples because they are so numerous [in him.]   

§. 19  
Now for those that are called Poly●●ota [or of many cases] collections, interchanges, gradations, they are large supplies of courage and bravery, and wholly, cooperate to ornament all kind of Height and Passion. But what can the changes of Cases, Times, Persons, numbers, and gen●ers do? How do they diversify and work up Eloquence? I affirm as concerning numbers, that these not only adorn that have a singular termination, yet after consideration are found to have the power and nature of plurals; Presently (Says he) a multitude of people rushed towards the shore and dividing itself made a shout; But those are more worthy observation when grand Plurals fall in together and triumph in their own multitude and number, such as are these of Sophocles concerning Oedipus; 
O marriages, O marriages,  
From you I sprung, and being sprung returned  
To whence you brought me, in me you have showed  
Fathers and Brothers, children and affinity,  
Brides, wives, and Mothers, and whatever else  
Mankind knows horrid and detestable.  All these are but one name Oedipus, and on the other part Jocasta, so that the number being spread into the plural multiplied his misfortunes. The like dilatation is in this, The Hectors and Sarpedons issued out. And that of Plato which we quoted in another place when we spoke of the Athenians; Neither the Pelops', nor the Cadmus', nor the Aegyptus', nor the Danaus', nor any of the barbarous Nations dwell with us, but only Grecians, we have not the least commerce with Barbarism, &c. For naturally when words are so heal●'d and amas●'● together, we easily imagine the things they represent far more great and magnificent. But this must not be done in all cases, but only in such where the subject matter is capable of Aggrandization, plenty, excess, or passion, or one of these or all of them; therefore to be always tinkling of Cymbals, is miserably sophistical.   

§. 21.  
On the other side, those that are plurals yet summed up into singulars carry in them a great deal of Height: After that all Peloponnesus was rent into factions, Phrynichus acting a play of the taking of Miletus, the spectators fell all a-weeping. For the reduction of different things into a single number carries with it a bigness and corpulency. Now the reason why either of them conduces so much to ornament, I conceive to be this; for when there are many singulars, to make them unexpectedly plurals, shows a mind settled and composed; but if they be plurals, and many of them gathered into a right sound by sudden changes of the things into their Contraries***   

§. 22.  
Now [for Times] if you bring in things as now in action and present, you will make your speech no narration, but a representation of a thing in being. A man, says Xenophon, falling under the horse of Cyrus, is trod upon, he thrusts his sword into the horse's belly, Cyrus falls. This is very frequent with Thucydides.   

§. 23.  
Of equal efficacy to this is the change of persons, whereby oftentimes the hearer thinks himself engaged in the midst of danger; 
You'd say unwearied and untamed they were,  
They fought so fiercely and with such career.  And Aratus; In that month do not trust thyself to Sea. And the like Herodotus; He going from the Elephantine City, [and after] Passing the Country, and again taking ship, thou wilt be twelve days at Sea, and afterwards arrive at a great City called Meroe. See now friend, as if he had the guidance of thy soul, he leads it through regions, making a report in a manner visible. Now all these passages applied to the things themselves arrest and fasten the auditor: The like it is to make a show not to speak to all but one person: 
— you, could scarce divine  
To whether Diomed did most incline.  For certainly a man is more moved and made more attentive and interested, when he is awaked with such speeches as directed to him.   

§. 24.  
Withal it often happens that an Author making a narration in another person, suddenly forsakes that and assumes his own; for this scheme is a grand enforcement of passion: 
Hector withal his voice bid th' Trojans dare  
T'attempt the ships as spoils of bloody war.  
Whom I at distance from their ships espy,  
That man's death I resolve—  The narration (as well became him) the Poet assumed to himself, yet he before all expectation, inserted that precipitous threat of the general. For alas! the Speech had fainted had he said, Hector sai● these things, or to this purpose; when as now the swiftness of the translation of his speech prevents him in all his haste. And therefore the opportunest use of the figure is in the very nick of time when the writer cannot stay, but is enforced upon the instant to change person for person; as this of Hecataeus: The ambassador thinking these propositions very harsh, commanded all the family of the Hearaclidae, to depart, for it is not in my power to help you, for if I perish you perish; indeed you may banish me and force me into another Country. But Demosthenes by another way, and with greater variety and nimble turning represented this in Aristogiton. None of you, says the [Demosthenes] will be found unprejudiced or unoffended in those things wherein this detestable and shameless man hath violated the Laws; who (O thou wickedest of mankind) debarred of thy accustomed petulancy, neither by grates nor by doors, which notwithstanding some may open,— changing you see in an imperfect sentence (through choler) and in a manner by one word, his speech into two persons; who (O thou wickedest of men) turning at one time his speech to Aristoglton, and seeming to fall off; yet by this passion he much prevailed. Nor otherwise Penelope: 
Herald, did these proud suitors send thee here.  
To bid the Great Ulysses maids forbear  
Their usual tasks, and feasts for them prepare?  
Suitors and those that of acquaintance are  
Must not expect to feast here any more.  
You whose perpetual resorts devour  
The wise Telemachus goods, did you not hear  
Your fathers (you being children yet) declare  
What brave Ulysses was—    

§. 25.  
Now for Periphrases [or circumlocutions] I think none doubts but that they very much elevate Speech. As in music from discords there results the sweetest harmony: so a periphrasis very often winds up itself in its own expatiation, and most commonly tunes up itself into an agreeable sweetness, especially if it hath nothing in it blown up or inconsistent, but all proportionably tempered together. I cannot cite a better witness than Plato in the very beginning of a funeral Oration: And indeed we pay these Obsequies unto them as the last duties they can receive now they are upon that journey which Fate hath preordained them, dismissed both by the public honours of the City, and private offices of friends. Here he calls death a preordained journey, and the burial by the public charge a pompous dismission by their own Country. Now by this means he either gently swelled up his conceit, or else so disposed bare words by this Periphrasis, that he wound them up into concord and melody. And Xenophon: Believe that labour is the truest Patron of a happy life; and you are now possessed of the bravest endowment and fittest for a warrior, that above all things you are delighted with praise: for in stead of saying you must labour, he says, Believe it the truest Patron of a happy life, and so enlarging himself in the rest, adds a huge notion unto his praises. And truly that of Herodotus is imitable: The goddess [Venus] punished those Scythians that spoiled her Temple with the feminine disease.   

§. 26.  
But above any of the rest a Periphrasis must choicely and opportunely be made use of, and without immoderation, for so it grows remiss, faints, and pitifully puffs up itself into light and empty obesity. Hence is it that Plato (who very excellently makes use of figures, though sometimes unseasonably) hath incurred ●ens●re and laughter for saying thus in his book of laws: They must neither suffer silver riches, nor golden riches to take place in the City and dwell there. For, say they, if he had forbid the keeping of cattle, he must at that rate have called it ox-wealth, or Sheep-wealth. And now (my dearest Terentianus) I think we have sufficiently insisted upon those figures which promote Height, and declared their use, how all of them inspire an oration with life and vehemence; for Passion partakes so much of Height, as Height of Delectation.   

§. 27.  
Now since in an Oration both the conception and phrase receive spirit and lustre from one another, let us bestow our consideration about that part of phrase, if there be any thing remaining to be said in it. That the election therefore of big and magnificent words strangely strokes and wins the Hearers and supplies all orators and other Writers aiming at Height, not only with Majesty, but beauty, clearness, weight, strength, prevalescence, and what ever else can yield any help thereunto, animating and polishing speeches like rare Statues, and striking a Morbidezza and sprightliness into them, inspiring the subject with a vocal kind of soul, I conceive it unnecessary to demonstrate to a man of understanding. For indeed selected and flourishing words are reflections, and (as a man may say) transparences of the mind: yet is not the state and bigness in them always required, for to enunciate slight and creeping matters in terms grave and lofty, is a business no more congruous, then to impose an high tragical person upon an Infant: yet in Poetry  
Yet rich and plentiful. And that of Anacreon, The Threician [harp] shall no more take up my thoughts. The like is that of Theopompus, very laudable, for the Analogy of it seems to me very significant, although Cecilius, I know not for what reason, blames it; Philip, says he, knows now to swallow and put up any thing. For a natural expression is many times more prevalent than ornament, as is easily observed out of the common course of life; for things we are accustomed to, soonest gain our belief, and therefore to a man that can patiently sit down under things unhandsome and ill-favoured, nay be glad of them so they may bring him in some profit, it is most properly said, He can swallow and put up any thing. And I pray you what think you of that of Herodotus, saying, Cleomenes being mad cut his flesh with his sword into small bits, till he was sliced and minced to death, Pythes fought so long upon the deck that he was at length chopped all to pieces? These seem to rule upon a plain simple man, though the sense of them is nothing such.   

§ 28.  
Now for many metaphors [put together] Cecilius seems to be of their opinion who will not allow above two or three at the most to any one sentence. But we must make Demosthenes our rule and law in this matter. Then therefore are they fitly used, when passions rush in like a Torrent, and forcibly drive them along in great numbers. Detestable men (Says he) Flatterers, Furies, who have maimed their Country, drinking and guzzling up her liberty, first to Philip, now to Alexander, measuring [her] happiness by their bellies and vices, and overturning liberty and freedom from any Master, which were formerly the very essence and bounds of the Grecian felicity. Here doth the mind of the orator fall in upon those a band of Tropes. Therefore Aristotle and Theophrastus prescribe us some allays for the boldness of such Translations; as, As I may say, or, as it were, and, if I may speak it in such a manner, or, if a thing so daring may be spoken: for such acknowledgements lessen the appearance of boldness. For my part, I also willingly admit them, yet so as I believe the number and pride of Metaphors, (as I said) the seasonable enamel of schemes, concitated passions, and generosity to be the strongest Antidotes of Height. For by their force and Impetus, they bear down and chase all other things before them, and make the greatest ●arings of speech seem merely necessary, not permitting the Reader to weigh their number and use, as being equally entranced with the Speaker. But in all tractations of places and descriptions, there is nothing so significant as numerous and continued Tropes; By which means the Anatomy of an human Tabernacle is pompously described by Xenophon, and much more divinely painted by Plato. The head of a man he called a citadel; and that the neck was an Isthmus raised in the midst between it and the breast; That the muscles were placed there as hinges for it to turn about upon; That pleasure was a bait of evil to mankind; the Tongue the tryer of Taste; so [the heart] the spring and maker of the veins, and fountain of blood which swiftly glides through all the members, which is guarded in the Quarters of the spear-men; so the passages of the pores he calls straits: Now for the palpitation of the heart in great fears and disturbances of anger, The Gods (say they) preparing a remedy, joined unto it the lungs, which consist of a soft and bloodless substance, having certain pipes and passages, and easy conveyances, lest when Choler boils too much in it, it be corrupted into obedience. Thus did he call the house [or seat] of Desire a Nursery; that of wrath an Andreson, [or place of the house wherein men only converse] the spleen the Cook house of the entrails, by whose excrements it being once filled it swells up with a great deal of fulsome matter: Yet all these are covered over with flesh both as a defence and assistance from cold and heat, and such as like wool it gently yields and obeys any impressions made upon it: Blood (he called) the supplyer of flesh; the easy currents of the veins for the better disposing of nourishment disperse themselves like channels artificially cut in a garden for to moisten it, gushing through their little [valunlaes or] openings as through a pipe. And when death approaches, he says, the faculties of the soul are loosened like the ropes of a ship [setting sail] and so she is set free. There are many other like to these in the same place, but these we have instanced are enough to manifest of what brave use and how conducing to Height are exchanges of words and metaphors, and how much all places both passionate and expository may be beholding to them. And yet we conceive, should we be silent, it is evident, that the entertainment of figures as all other gallantries helps mainly to bring on somewhat extraordinary, and too Giantly in speech. And in this Plato himself hath incurred no little censure, as one led away out of a frenzy of Eloquence into rough and savage Metaphors and ranting Allegories: 'Tis not easily apprehended (quoth he) that a City must be tempered as you mingle a glass of wine: for the wine first poured in flies and mantles, but when once punished and weakened by the other sober god, tempers itself with it and becomes good and wholesome drink. To call water a sober god, say they and mingling punishment, were proper only for a Poet, for no sober man would ever affect such piteous decadences. Nay and from this place Cecilius in his discourses upon Lysias, takes the boldness to pronounce Lysias absolutely a better [orator] then Plato, biased it appears by two inconsiderate passions; as a lover of Lysias even more than himself, and more to all purposes hating Plato than he loved Lysias. But as it may be all this proceeded from his prejudice and partiality, so are not his considerations, to be received as clear and indubitable; for he makes [Lysias] a consummate and faultless orator, and citys many lapses in Plato, but it is so far from being true that it seems not probable. But I pray let us once find some perfect and blameless Writer.   

§. 29.  
But it will be worth our pains first to inquire in the general, whether in Poems and Orations an irregular and luxuriant greatness be sometimes better than a stayed proportionate and steady regulation: And withal whether many virtues or the greater ought justly to obtain the primacy in speech, For these questions are very proper to the disquisition of Height, and therefore cannot but require our determination. Now I observe that excesses of greatness are naturally the least pure, but what is nicely exact is in danger of littleness. Thus in sublimities as in vast estates, there must be somewhat to contemn and throw away. And must not this also be necessarily found, that men whose understandings are of a little making, never adventuring themselves in attempts of height, seldom or never fall, but walk on sure ground? yet for all this it is not to be concealed, that naturally all human things are ever rather adjudged by the worse, and the memory of the bad stands fixed and permanent, but that of the good glides away and vanishes. Now should I instance some; no small faults both of Homer and other Grandees, though for my part as I am as little pleased with their failings [as any man] so would I rather call them voluntary [errors] then offences, or [properly] failings of carelessness, heedlessly overseen by chance in several places by a noble pride of nature: yet nevertheless I think the greatest virtues, although not equally regnant in the whole piece, aught to carry the suffrage for precedency, were it for no other cause then their height and greatness. Now though Apollonius that writ the argonautics hath never offended, and Theocritus in pastorals (excepting some what he has of foreign) is most fortunate; pray whether would you choose rather to be Homer or Apollonius? and whether, is Eratosthenes for his Erigone, (a Poem absolutely unblameable) to be accounted a greater Poet than Archilechus, that says many things in confusion, yet proceeding from the motion and dictates of some assisting spirit, which so break out that they cannot be digested into order? And in lyrics, whether would you be Bacchylides or Pindar? and in tragedy, Jon, or Chius, or (O difference!) Sophocles? these have been never found to fail as perpetually writing smooth and clear. But Pindar and Sophocles as they burn up all before them, so flaming oftentimes above the measure of their fuel they extinguish and miserably decay. Yet would any judicious man putting all these works of Jon into the scales with that single Play of Dedipus [of Sophocles] think them of equal value to it?   

§. 30.  
Besides if we will judge these excellencies rather by their number then weight or realty, it will follow that Hyperides must be accounted a better orator than Demosthenes, for he sounds fuller and higher, hath a many things commendable, seeming a Master in what he undertakes, like an Olympic Gamester, who is generally worsted by the best Gamesters, but carried it solely among the mean ones. Now Hyperides is a great emulator of Demosthenes in all wherein he is exequisite (except it be his composition) and to this hath added all the virtues and graces of Lysias, yea and he's smooth and sapple when there is occasion, and carries not all on in an equal Tone, as does Demosthenes. Besides he guilds and sweetens his ethics very pleasantly, his Urbanities are innumerable, his reprehensions most civil, his ingenuity in wrestling with Allegories and retorting of jests not sordid or disigenuous (like those of the Atticans,) but tart and pressing: How dexterously removes he a crimination, and how facetiously? what handsome and sure stabs he gives? his elegancy and polishure in all these to speak truth is inimitable: withal he is much inclined to commiseration, and not seldom wanders with fabulous narrations, through a lubricity of spirit, being very prone and apt to digress; as for example, when he flew out into those politic things concerning Latona, he made a funeral speech so full of amplification, that I know not whether any other [could] But Demosthenes meddles little with manners or passion, seldom dilates himself, is nothing fluid or large, and in a word for the most part is guiltless of those matters which we now mentioned in the former. And therefore when he is enforced to be cheerful and pleasant that he may provoke laughter, he is rather lauged at then raises it: and when he endeavours to approach with somewhat winning and complaisant, he is furthest from it. But yet since I conceive that the handsome things of the other are very little (as coming from a man sober in heart) and flat, and such as leave the Reader unmoved; (for what man reading Hyperides would be struck into a passion?) whilst the other taking the accents of Height itself from the highest pitch of advanced Nature, and of skill perfected to the most exquisite extremity, breathes out living passions, substantial plenty, skill, swiftness, and thereby a lordly, and, which is above all the rest, an unacessible fierceness, drawing all these divine endowments, (for I do not think it lawful to call them human) unto himself. And therefore these excellencies which he bids at he solely Masters, and without a rival; and in stead of those which he hath not, thunder-strikes and in a manner enlightens the orators of all ages, that a man may sooner open his eyes to a flash of lightning then look fixtly upon his motions and wonderful agitations.   

§. 31.  
Now in Plato (as I have said) there is another difference; for Lysias is not only inferior to him in the greatness, but in the number of his virtues, and so much the rather exceeds him in many more faults, than comes short of him in virtues. What therefore saw these godlike men, and endeavourrers of the sublimest writing, that they seem to contemn and slight this exactness in all? Among the rest this; that nature making us no humble or inferior creatures, but framing man into bravery, and bringing him into life and view of the world as a full and large Theatre, to be spectator of all that should be acted therein, and an emulous contender; engrafted at the same time in his soul an indelible desire of greatness and somewhat to us divine. Therefore to the consideration and attempt of his own advancement the whole world suffices not, but his thoughts very often mount further than the surface that comprehends it. And if a man look about and examine what in life is excellent, great, and worthy above the rest, he will soon understand for what end we enjoy it. Hence is it that even out of common notion, we admire not little pure or useful streams, but the Rhine, Nile, or the Danow, and above, these the Ocean. Neither do we the most look at our ordinary fire, although we see it daily burn shine and recruited, but we rather look up and adore those celestial flames, though to us often darkened. Nor do we think any thing more wonderful than the Pits and vortices of the Aetna, whose eructations throw whole stones from its depths, and huge fragments, nay pours out rivers of no other species, which is fire. So that from all this we may well draw this result that what is profitable and necessary for Mankind is easily attainable, but what is admirable is beyond his expectation or attempt.   

§. 32.  
In all the braveries therefore of speech to which Height concurs not without use or profit, we must here note that such men though they could not arrive to a pitch above failing, yet they have put themselves in a condition above Death or oblivion: And as the other things do but show were men, so their greatness hath set them in a condition next to Immortality; and indeed their fallibility is not so much blamed, as what is laudable admired. But what need I add any more? Any of those Heroes are able to expiate all their offences with one glorius and fiery passage: and that which is of greatest consideration, if a man should pick out all the errors of Homer, Demonsthenes, or Plato, or any other of those renowned men, and put them all together, they would be found not the thousand part of those exquisite things scattered up and down in their immortal papers; and therefore all Ages, and the men of those Ages could not be so infatuated with envy, as not with a joint consent to raise up trophies to them, which to this day remain fair and undemolished, and are like ever so to do whilst springs shall glide, and woods their leaves renew. You will therefore say that a writer is an irregular Coloss●●, no better than the Doryphorus of Polycletlo●●●: but among other things it may be answered, That in Artificials we require exactness, in Naturals, greatness; now nature made a man rational, and in statues we expect a thing like a man; but in Speech, some what I know not how exceeding (as I have said) Man: yet ought we (for now we return to that Monition we began with in this Book) since infallibility is for the most part the effect of Art, and sublimities are various and different, call in Art always to the assistance of Nature for their better perfection, for by their confederacy all must he consummated. And thus much was necessary for us to resolve upon the Questions we formerly proposed, every man make election what he will follow.   

§. 33.  
Of near kin to Metaphors are Parables and Descriptions, [or Pictures] differing only in this  
And such as these, if you brought your brains placed in your head and not in your heels. Therefore it will be necessary we know how far we may proceed in any thing, for to adventure beyond the set limits, destroys the hyperbole, and slackens and breaks the things so stretched, nay and sometimes they are perverted into utter contrarieties. And therefore Isocrates I know not how played the very child in his sedulous affectation of speaking all his things largely and copiously. Now the end of his panegyric is, to show how far the good turns of the Athenians to the other Grecians exceeded those of Sparta; but he in the very beginning brings in this; Since that Orations have such a natural property, as they can devance and lessen great things, and exalt and heighten little, and repeat matters of Antiquity as done yesterday, and discourse of Novelties as things of many ages standing. But I pray (may some say) Isocrates, are you about to make such a counterchange of the affairs of Lacedaemon and Athens? Now this commendation of Orations did little less than give his hearers fair warning and premonition to be incredulous. And therefore the best Hyperboles are those, (as we said before of Schemes) when they are so disposed that they are not known to be Hyperboles: and then is it, when in the height of perturbation they fall in with the circumstance itself, as was handsomely done by Thucydides [writing] of those that were slain in Sicily; The Siracusians (Says he) coming down did most execution upon those that were in the River, so that the water was in an instant corrupted, and yet nevertheless, for all it was bloody and dirty, they drank of it, nay some fought about it. Now the transport of passion and the circumstance make it probable that they might drink mud and blood, and quarrel about it. Like to this is that of Herodotus of those [that fought] at Thermopylae; In this place while they defended themselves with such swords as they had left, the Barbarians encompassed then, and falling upon them both with hands and mouths overthrew them. You would say 'tis strange they should fall upon armed men with their mouths, and that it is not usual [for a number] to be overthrown with darts, and yet this is as credible [as the other.] But we must not take occasion to bring things in order to bring in Hyperboles, but we must make Hyperboles arise from the things: and indeed (to prosecute my purpose) papious and circumstances coming near the thing in hand, are great remedies and qualifiers of Height; hence is it that many comic passages though stretched unto impossibility seem to be probable because they are ridiculous; [as that] He had a piece of groundless than a laconic Epistle; for laughter is a passion that consists of pleasure. Now Hyperboles are as well admitted for diminution as augmentation, for both extremes correspond and answer one another, and indeed elevation is nothing but the plucking up of depression.   

§. 34.  
We are now arrived at the fifth branch, which we said in the beginning was to glorify speech, and that is (my noble friend) the disposure and Architecture which we have already sufficiently discoursed of in two Treatises. Yet for so much as I did then insert to this purpose, I thought it but necessary to transcribe hither: as, that harmonious fabric of speech is not only very fortunate in persuasions, and naturally full of allurement and delight, but also a most admirable promotion and engine of liberty and passion. For a Pipe makes not only an impression upon the hearers, but unsettles them and makes them rove about like mad men, and if you choose any particular tune compels them to dance after it, and by several gestures to answer and imitate it, or any other when 'tis changed: And can it be denied that the several Tunes of a Lute (though they signify nothing in themselves) varied and changed by several touches and stops into a sweet concord, do not wonderfully charm and bewitch the spirit? But these airs and imitations are forced and bastardly, not real and genuine movers of the mind of man. Shall we not therefore think that. Composition being a music resulting from words which are natural to men, gains admission as well in the soul as at the ear; when it musters up numerous ideas of words, things, lustre, proportion, and what ever else is innate or congenial with us, and by mixing and moulding their sounds disperses the passion of the Speaker, and infects all near him, and by all this adding magnificence to the structure of words, and raising them up to glory and majesty, and whatever it comprehends within itself or may touch upon our spirits, or any way master our understandings? But it would but seem madness to doubt any longer of things so universally acknowledged, for there needs no other proof but experience. 'Tis a very rich and indeed extraordinary thought that of Demosthenes after the decree; This very Vote made all the danger that oung over the City to vanish like a cloud. Yet was the music and utterance of it not at all inferior to the conceit, for it all runs upon Dactyls, which are the most heroic and stately measure, and therefore are they chosen for that verse, [the heroic] which is the gallantest and most princely of all the rest. Now if you should transpose any thing here out of its place according to pleasure, as {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, or but cut off one syllable {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, you would find how much the time sets off Height; for that {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} knit to the former long foot is of four syllables, but being mangled into {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} it comes lame and the greatness is lost, but if again you stretch it out to {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} it runs otherwise and becomes the same it was formerly, for by the length and stop of the last particle the breach closes up, and it runs free and smoothly.   

§. 35.  
Besides that this apt disposure of parts doth greaten speech, as the like in membe●s does a body: for if one be once cut off and severed from another there is nothing comely, but all remaining together make up an handsome system; so generous things being scattered and parcelied one from another can never close into any Height, but brought into a coalition and bound up into harmony, they circulate and become sonorous; so that the true sounds and tones of Periods, may be compared to a great feast made up of many dishes. And indeed a many both Poets and other Writers, though they had none of the highest natures, and use mostly but low, common, trivial and plain words, yet by the contexture and fabric of them have arrived at pride and stately interstices, and made show of nothing less than their meanness: as for example (among many others) Philistus in some things, Aristophanes in many, Euripides as we have sufficiently manifested. Thus Hercules [in Euripides] when he had slain his children;  
I'm full of evils, there's no place for more. This is but popularly spoken, yet is made tragical by its order and figuration. Now if you will but discompose it a little, you will find that this proceeds rather from the modelling of the words, than the notion they comprehend. And of Dirce being hurried about by a Bull, 
— Where e'er  
He turned about, he turned about withal  
The Woman, Stones, and Oaks, throwing them round.  The speech is lofty, but is made more weighty in regard the tone is not made too swift and precipitate, but hath its stays and rests at every name, and pauses of time, whereby it established itself into just bigness.   

§. 36.  
Nothing at all so enervates greatness, as numbers rent and shattered in the pronunciation; as the Pyrrichii, Trochaei, Dichoraei, which can only be accommodated to a nimble dance; for all such [things] as are bundled into numbers, presently become pretty, thin, and dispassionate, flowing silently and untroubledly by reason of their too much smoothness, and which is worst of all in them they withdraw the hearer from what they treat of, and entertain him only with their noise. So these Rhythmicall and footed passages feed not the attention of the hearers with their matter, but their sound, and they foreseeing their periods join with them in the close, and as in a consort anticipate the conclusion. So [we may say of] these small things triflingly flatted and smoothed, and sliced into particles, which seemed to have their fractures nailed up, and botched into a continuity.   

§. 37.  
That which also diminishes Grandeur is too much conciseness of phrase, for if it be too Laconic it dismembers it: but this must not be understood of such as are limited to a just narrowness, but such as from which somewhat is lopped, for such maims arrest the understanding; compendiousness furthers it, but lifeless and tedious prating is to be held excrement and excrescency.   

§. 38.  
Withal the use of little words is a great shame and blemish, and therefore Herodotus excellently describes Winter as to his notions, though his subject is not so worthy of it; as in this, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, the Sea frothing, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} is very eloquent by reason of the harshness of the sound; {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} (Says he) {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} this {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} is unhandsome because of his commonness, and {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} is unsuitable to such a passion. So Theopompus endeavouring magnificently to describe the expedition of the Persians into Egypt, stabbed his narration by a few little words; What City, or what Nation (Says he) in all Asia sent not their ambassadors to the King? what was it that grows upon the earth, and could either be made curious or precious by Art, which was not brought and presented to him? How many rich Carpets and Robes? some purple, some particoloured, some white, Golden tents fitted with all kind of utensils, many under-garments, and embroidered beds, silver and gold already coined, platters and goblets, some whereof you might see studded with gems, others wrought with exquisite skill and vast charge. Add to this innumerable myriads of Arms, some of the Greek, some of the Barbary fashion, besides Beasts for carrying of Baggage above all account, and besides others for sacrifices, a number of bushels of seasoning for them, many sacks and packs of Books, and what ever else could be necessary, so many Tubs of all kind of Sacrifices salted and prepared, piled into such heaps, that viewing them afar off you would have supposed them Hills and Mountains new risen up. Here when he should have pursued the highest things, he falls upon the lowest, whereas to have gained his point, he should have done the contrary; and in this grand news of such a preparation, mentioning chests of seasonings and sacks, he makes the business little better than the march of a Sutlery; for it is no other, if in the same memorial, wherein he mentions golden and studded cups, stamped money, golden tents, he also places chests and sacks, which certainly were a very unfitting and unbecoming sight; so the words expressing them must needs be ugly scars as unhappily placed there. He might as well to make a full narration, have told what Mountains they were that were conjectured to rise, and have made the Camels discourse one with another what kind of preparation the other was, or a multitude of Beasts carrying all that might serve the luxury of the palate and Table, or have particularised the heaps of all those provisions, and told whether they served rather for necessary food or wantonness of Banquet, or else in this manner he might have mentioned all things he thought requisite either for Table or Banquet. For in high matters there must be no tumbling into other base and sordid, unless there be an absolute and unavoidable necessity: For words ought to carry a stamp worthy of the things they represent, and in this to imitate nature in the making of man, who neither placed our privy parts nor our excrements in view, but as well became her, hid them, and, as Xenophon says, turned their channels and passages another way, lest there should be any thing to impair the comeliness of the whole. But I will no longer insist upon these causes of littleness, for having once shown what makes speech generous and sublime, it will follow that the contrary for the most part humbles and deforms it.   

§. 39  
It only remains, and for your better information (dearest friend) I will go through with it, to satisfy a question which a certain Philosopher sometimes asked; 'Tis a great wonder (said he) whence it should come that in our age as well as in many others, large capacities, deep judgements, clear and searching heads, but especially vigorous and fiery wits, made for the enriching of Eloquence, are very seldom or not at all found, such a general death there is of all men constellated for the sciences: Shall we I beseech you believe that which hath been in many men's mouths, that a democracy is the best Nurse of high Spirits, and under it so many great orators have in a manner not only flourished, but even decayed with it? For just liberty feeds and nourishes the thoughts with great notions, and draws them forward, and increases their emulations and the strong desires they have to obtain the priority of honour, and that by the rewards proposed to them in such republics: the faculties of their minds and all their skills are whetted, and in a manner kindled into a flame, which commonly shines freely and brightly as the things they deal with. But we of this age, said he, seem to be taught from children to endure slavery, being swathed as it were in these customs and persuasions even from our tenderest nails, so that we cannot possibly taste of that rich and full fountain of Eloquence, I mean, says he, Liberty. So that in the end we become at best but excellent flatterers, and from hence, says he, these kinds of habits follow us to our own homes; and 'tis impossible for a servile man to be a true orator, for presently his Liberty and his boldness decays and consumes, and being as it were by custom used to buffeting we dare never speak out but only mutter. We lose one half of our virtue (Says Homer) in one day of our servitude. And as (if it be true which I have heard reported) they say the cages in which pygmies commonly called dwarfs are nourished not only hinder the increase and growth of them, but even straighten them by a muzzle [or band] put about their mouths: So may we say that any slavery be it never so just, may truly be called a cage of the soul and a common Goal of it. But my good friend, said he, I believe that it is proper to man to blame and repine at the present time, but look if*****  
'Tis peace that corrupts the greatest wits in the world, and so much the rather that this war which is endless puts a stop upon our inclinations: And besides we may add to this the perturbations that besiege the present way of living, and oftentimes toss it and disorder it; For covetousness as a general fever will not suffer our thirst to be quenched, and our pleasures lead us captive, or, to say better, swallow up both our manners and designs. Now covetousness lessens a man the most of any thing, and pleasure renders him the most ungenerous: nor upon the deepest resuery can I find or opinion that it can possibly be, that those who can value such unmeasurable wealth, or to speak truer, adore it, can lay aside those base humours that infect the mind at the same time with it. Now to such excessive and unbridled wealth, there necessarily follows like a shadow at the heels prodigality and other vices, she opening the Gates and entrances of Cities, possessing herself of them and seating there. Now when these have had any long entertainment in the life of man, they build nests there (as the wise men have said) and presently impregnate; and do but you consider what they must bring forth, marry haughtiness and luxury, which are not their bastard-childrens but legitimate. Now if any cherish these grandchildren of wealth, they breed up incontroulable Tyrants over their souls, contumely, and shamelesseness: for these things must necessarily follow, and 'tis impossible men should look up to the pinnacles of honour, or say any thing more than ordinary. Thus are these corruptions of life perfected by degrees in a circle, and the excellencies of the soul decay, languish and grow drowsy, since they perceive men cherishing only their passable and mortal parts, and slumbering in irrationality, so that they neglect the pursuit of the virtues. For 'tis impossible in a Judgement seat that any man bribed or prepossessed should be a good judge of what were just or unjust, for whoever takes a bribe, must needs think that which is domestic to him the best and honestest. Now since bribes and false judgements follow us all our lives, and contrivances and expectances of [others] deaths, and falsifying of Testaments, and truckings for gain out of any thing whatever, every man selling into slavery his own mind; can we think in such a pestilent perversion to expect any free and right judge of such things, as being great and generous would divert him from his former designs, and not gratify him with the flattery of his present oberrations? Now is it not better for us that are men of this kidney to have a Ruler set over us then to be left to our freedom, since that our covetousness let wholly lose (like prisoners set out of prison into the voysinage) would run headlong into such mischiefs as may set all the world on fire? Then (said he) the laziness of our modern wits proceeded also from profusion, to which, except a few, we are all inclined, not otherwise labouring then men newly recovered out of sickness, unless it be for praise or pleasure, but out of no zeal or to any profit worthy of praise. But it would be better perhaps to dismiss this point and fall upon that which must next follow, and that is the passions, which we have promised to treat of in another discourse, in which both other speech as well as Height will I suppose have a share.  
THE END.