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Contriued into three Bookes: The first of Poets and Poesie, the second of Proportion, the third of Ornament.

[Illustration: AN CHORA SPEI (shield with hand coming out of a cloud and holding onto an anchor entwined with vine)]

Printed by Richard Field, dwelling in the black-Friers, neere Ludgate. 1589.

Printer wisheth health and prosperitie, with the commandement and vse of his continuall seruice.

This Booke (right Honorable) coming to my handes, with his bare title without any Authours name or any other ordinarie addresse, I doubted how well it might become me to make you a present thereof, seeming by many expresse passages in the same at large, that it was by the Authour intended to our Soueraigne Lady the Queene, and for her recreation and seruice chiefly deuised, in which case to make any other person her highnes partener in the honour of his guift it could not stand with my dutie, nor be without some prejudice to her Maiesties interest and his merrite. Perceyuing besides the title to purport so slender a subiect, as nothing almost could be more discrepant from the grauitie of your yeeres and Honorable function, whose contemplations are euery houre more seriously employed upon the publicke administration and services: I thought it no condigne gratification, nor scarce any good satisfaction for such a person as you. Yet when I considered, that bestowing vpon your Lordship the first vewe of this mine impression (a feat of mine owne simple facultie) it could not scypher her Maiesties honour or prerogatiue in the guift, nor yet the Authour of his thanks: and seeing the thing it selfe to be a deuice of some noueltie (which commonly it giveth euery good thing a speciall grace) and a noueltie so highly tending to the most worthy prayses of her Maiesties most excellent name. So deerer to you I dare conceiue them any worldly thing besides love although I could not deuise to have presented your Lordship any gift more agreeable to your appetite, or fitter for my vocation and abilitie to bestow, your Lordship beyng learned and a louer of learning, my present a Book and my selfe a printer alwaies ready and desirous to be at your Honourable commaundement. And thus I humbly take my leave from the Black-friers, this xxvii of May, 1589.

Your Honours most humble at commaundement,

A colei

[Illustration of Queen holding orb and sceptre.]

Che se stessa rassomiglia & non altrui.

THE FIRST BOOKE, _Of Poets and Poesie.

What a Poet and Poesie is, and who may be worthily sayd the most excellent Poet of our time.

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

That there may be an Art of our English Poesie, as well as there is of the Latine and Greeke.

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

How Poets were the first priests, the first prophets, the first Legislators and politicians in the world.

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

How the Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomers and Historiographers and Oratours and Musiciens of the world.

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

How the wilde and sauage people vsed a naturall Poesie in versicte and time as our vulgar is.

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

How the riming Poesie came first to the Grecians and Latines, and had altered and almost split their maner of Poesie.

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

How in the time of Charlemaine and many yeares after him the Latine Poetes wrote in ryme.

And this appeareth euidently by the workes of many learned men, who wrote about the time of Charlemaines raigne in the Empire Occidentall, where the Christian Religion, became through the excessive authoritie of Popes, and deepe deuotion of Princes strongly fortified and established by erection of orders Monastical in which many simple clerks for deuotion sake & sanctitie were receiued more then for any learning, by which occasion & the solitarinesse of their life, waxing studious without discipline or instruction by any good methode, some of them grew to be historiographers, some Poets, and following either the barbarous rudenes of the time, or els their own idle inuentions, all that they wrote to the fauor or prayse of Princes, they did it in such maner of minstrelsie, and thought themselues no small fooles, when they could make their verses goe all in ryme as did the Schoole of Salerno, dedicating their booke of medicinall rules vnto our king of England, with this beginning. Anglorum Regi scripsit tota schola Salerni Sivus incolumem, sivis te reddere sanicari Curas tolle graues, irasci crede prophanum Necretine ventram nec stringas as fortiter annum.

And all the rest that follow throughout the whole booke more curiously than cleanely, neuerthelesse very well to the purpose of their arte. In the same time king Edward the iij. him selfe quartering the Armes of England and France, did discouer his pretence and clayme to the Crowne of Fraunce, in these ryming verses. Rex sum regnorum bina ratione duorum Anglorum regnio sum rex ego iure paterno Matris iure quidem Francorum nuncupor idem Hinc est armorum variatio facta meorum.

Which verses Philip de Valois then possessing the Crowne as next heire
male by pretexte of the law Salique, and holding our Edward the third,
aunswered in these other of as good stuffe.
  Prædo regnorum qui diceris esse duorum
  Regno materno priuaberis atque paterno
  Prolis ius nullum ubi matris non fuit vllum
  Hinc est armorum variatio stulta tuorum.

It is found written of Pope Lucius, for his great auarice and tyranny
vsed ouer the Clergy thus in ryming verses.
  Lucius est piscis rex et tyrannus aquarum
  A quo discordat Lucius iste parum
  Deuorat hic hom homines, his piscibus insidiatur
  Esurit hic semper hic aliquando satur
  Amborum vitam si laus aquata notaret
  Plus rationis habet qui ratione caret.

And as this was vsed in the greatest and gayest matters of Princes and Popes by the idle inuention of Monasticall men then raigning al in their superlative. So did every scholer & secular clerke or versifier, when he wrote any short poeme or matter of good lesson put it in ryme, whereby it came to passe that all your old Proverbes and common sayinges, which they would have plausible to the reader and easy to remember and beare away, were of that sorte as these. In mundo mira faciunt duo nummias & ira Molleficant dura peruertunt omnia iura.

And this verse in disprayse of the Courtiers life following the Court of Rome. Vita palatina dura est animaque ruina.

And these written by a noble learned man.
  Ire redire fequi regum sublimia castra
  Eximiius status est, sed non sic itur ad astra.

And this other which to the great injurie of all women was written (no doubt by some forlorne lover, or else some old malicious Monke) for one woman's sake blemishing the whole sex. Fallere stere nere mentari nilque tacere Haec qumque vere statuit Deus in muliere.

If I might have bene his Iudge, I would have had him for his labour serued as Orpheus was by the women of Thrace. His eyes to be picket out with pinnes for his so deadly belying of them, or worse handled if worse could be deuised. But will ye see how God raised a revenger for the silly innocent women, for about the same ryming age came an honest civill Courtier somewhat bookish, and wrate these verses against the whole rable of Monkes. O Monachi vestri stomachi sunt amphor a Bacchi Vos estos Deis est restes turpissima pestis.

Anon after came your secular Priestes as jolly rymers as the rest, who
being sore agreeued with their Pope Calixtus, for that he had enjoyned
them from their wives,& railed as fast against him.
  O bone Calixte totus mundus perodit te
  Quondam Presbiteri, poterant vxoribus vti
  Hoc destruxisti, postquam tu Papa fursti.

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

We finde some but very few of these ryming verses among the Latines of the ciuiller ages, and those rather hapning by chaunce then of any purpose in the writer, as this Distick among the disportes of Ouid. Quot coem stellas tot habet tua Roma puellas Pascua quotque haedos tot habet tua Roma Cynedos,

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

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

Another of their pretie inuentions was to make a verse of such wordes as by their nature and manner of construction and situation might be turned backward word by word, and make another perfit verse, but of quite contrary sence as the gibing Monke that wrote of Pope Alexander these two verses. Laus tua non tua fraus, virtus non copia rerum, Scandere te faciunt hoc decus eximium.

Which if ye will turne backward they make two other good verses, but of a
contrary sence, thus.
  Eximium decus hoc faciunt te scandere rerum
  Copia, non virtus, fraus tua non tua laus.

And they called it Verse Lyon.

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

In what reputation Poesie and Poets were in old time with Princes and otherwise generally, and how they be now become contemptible and for what causes.

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

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

How Poesie should not be imployed vpon vayne conceits or vicious or infamous.

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

The subiect or matter of Poesie.

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

Of poemes and their sundry formes and how thereby the auncient Poets receaued surnames.

As the matter of Poesie is diuers, so was the forme of their poemes & maner of writing, for all of them wrote not in one sort, euen as all of them wrote not vpon one matter. Neither was euery Poet alike cunning in all as in some one kinde of Poesie, not vttered with like felicitie. But wherein any one most excelled, thereof he tooke a surname, as to be called a Poet Heroick, Lyrick, Elegiack, Epigrammatist or otherwise. Such therefore as gaue them selves to write long histories of the noble gests of kings & great Princes, entermedling the dealings of the gods, halfe gods or Heroes of the gentiles, & the great & waighty consequences of peace and warre, they called Poets Heroick, whereof Homer was chief and most auncient among the Greeks, Virgill among the Latines. Others who more delighted to write songs or ballads of pleasure, to be song with the voice, and to the harpe, lute, or citheron & such other musical instruments, they were called melodious Poets [melici] or by a more common name Lirique Poets, of which sort was Pindarus, Anacreon and Callimachus with others among the Greeks: Horace and Catullus among the Latines. There were an other sort, who sought the fauor of faire Ladies, and coueted to bemone their estates at large, & the perplexities of loue in a certain pitious verse called Elegie, and thence were called Eligiack: such among the Latines were Ouid, Tibullus, & Propertius. There were also Poets that wrote onely for the stage, I meane playes and interludes, to receate the people with matters of disporte, and to that intent did set forth in shewes pageants, accompanied with speach the common behauiours and maner of life of priuate persons, and such as were the meaner sort of men, and they were called Comicall Poets, of whom among the Greekes Menander and Aristophanes were most excellent, with the Latines Terence and Plautus. Besides those Poets Comick there were other who serued also the stage, but medled not with so base matters: For they set forth the dolefull falles of infortunate & afflicted Princes, & were called Poets Tragicall. Such were Euripides and Sophocles with the Greeks, Seneca among the Latines. There were yet others who mounted nothing so high as any of them both, but in base and humble stile by maner of Dialogue, vttered the priuate and familiar talke of the meanest sort of men, as shepheards, heywards and suchlike, such was among the Greekes Theocritus: and Virgill among the Latines, their poemes were named Eglogues or shepheardly talke. There was yet another kind of Poet, who intended to taxe the common abuses and vice of the people in rough and bitter speaches, and their inuectiues were called Satyres, and them selues Satyricques. Such were Lucilius, Iuuenall and Persius among the Latines, & with vs he that wrote the booke called Piers plowman. Others of a more fine and pleasant head were giuen wholly to taunting and scoffing at vndecent things, and in short poemes vttered pretie merry conceits, and these men were called Epigrammatistes. There were others that for the peoples good instruction, and triall of their owne witts vsed in places of great assembly, to say by rote nombers of short and sententious meetres, very pithie and of good edification, and thereupon were called Poets Mimistes: as who would say, imitable and meet to be followed for their wise and graue lessons. There was another kind of poeme, inuented onely to make sport, & to refresh the company with a maner of buffonry or counterfaiting of merry speaches, conuerting all that which they had hard spoken before, to a certaine derision by a quite contrary sence, and this was done, when Comedies or Tragedies were a playing, & that betweene the actes when the players went to make ready for another, there was great silence, and the people waxt weary, then came in these maner of counterfaite vices, they were called Pantomimi, and all that had before bene sayd, or great part of it, they gaue a crosse construction to it very ridiculously. Thus haue you how the names of the Poets were giuen them by the formes of their poemes and maner of writing.

In what forme of Poesie the gods of the Gentiles were praysed and honored.

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

In what forme of Poesie vice and the common abuses of mans life was reprehended.

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

How vice was afterward reproued by two other maner of poems, better reformed then the Satyre, whereof the first was Comedy, the second Tragedie.

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

In what forme of Poesie the euill and outragious bahauiours of Princes were reprehended.

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

In what forme of Poesie the great Princes and dominators of the world were honored.

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

Of the places where their enterludes or poemes drammaticke were represented to the people.

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

Of the Shepheards or pastorall Poesie called Eglogue, and to what purpose it was first inuented and vsed.

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

Of historicall Poesie, by which the famous acts of Princes and the vertuous and worthy liues of our forefathers were reported.

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

In what forme of Poesie vertue in the inferiour sort was commended.

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

The forme wherein honest and profitable Artes and sciences were treated.

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

In what forme of Poesie the amorous affections and allurements were vttered.

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

The forme of Poeticall reioysings.

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

The forme of Poeticall lamentations.

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

Of the solemne reioysings at the natiuitie of Princes children.

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

The maner of reioysings at mariages and weddings.

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

The manner of Poesie by which they uttered their bitter taunts, and priuy nips, or witty scoffes and other merry conceits.

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

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

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

And there it remained a great while because no man wist what it meant, till Virgill opened the whole fraude by this deuise. He wrote aboue the same halfe metres this whole verse Exameter. Hos ego versiculos feci tulit alter honores.

And then finished the foure half metres, thus.
  Sic vos non vobis Fertis aratra boues
  Sic vos non vobis Vellera fertis oues
  Sic vos non vobis Mellificatis apes
  Sic vos non vobis Indificatis aues.

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

Of the poeme called Epitaph used for memoriall of the dead.

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

A certaine auncient forme of poesie by which men did vse to reproch their enemies.

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

Of short Epigrames called Posies.

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

Who in any age haue bene the most commended writers in our English Poesie, and the Authors censure giuen upon them.

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

Of Proportion Poeticall.

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

Of proportion in Staffe.

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

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

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

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

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

Of proportion in measure.

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

How many sorts of measures we use in our vulgar.

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

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

Or a trissillable and one monosillable thus. Soueraine God, or two bissillables and that is plesant thus, Restore againe, or with foure monosillables, and that is best of all thus, When I doe thinke, I finde no fauour in a meetre of three sillables nor in effect in any odde, but they may be vsed for varietie sake, and specially being enterlaced with others the meetre of six sillables is very sweete and dilicate as thus. O God when I behold This bright heauen so hye By thine owne hands of old Contrivd so cunningly.

The meter of seuen sillables is not vsual, no more is that of nine and
eleuen, yet if they be well composed, that is, their Cesure well
appointed, and their last accent which makes the concord, they are
commendable inough, as in this ditty where one verse is of eight an other
is of seuen, and in the one the accent vpon the last, in the other vpon
the last saue on.
  The smoakie sighes, the bitter teares
  That I in vaine haue wasted
  The broken sleepes, the woe and feares
  That long time haue lasted
  Will be my death, all by thy guilt
  And not by my deseruing
  Since so inconstantly thou wilt
  Not loue but still be sweruing.

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

Your ordinarie rimers vse very much their measures in the odde as nine and eleuen, and the sharpe accent vpon the last sillable, which therefore makes him go ill fauouredly and like a minstrels musicke. Thus sayd one in a meeter of eleven very harshly in mine eare, whether it be for lacke of good rime or of good reason, or of both I wot not. Now sucke childe and sleepe childe, thy mothers owne ioy Her only sweete comfort, to drowne all annoy For beauty surpassing the azured skie I loue thee my darling, as ball of mine eye.

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

The meeter of eight is no lesse pleasant then that of sixe, and the Cesure fals iust in the middle, as this of the Earle of Surreyes. When raging loue, with extreme payne.

The meeter of ten sillables is very stately and Heroicall, and must haue his Cesure fall vpon the fourth sillable, and leaue sixe behind him thus. I serue at ease, and gouerne all with woe.

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

This verse is a very good Alexandrine, but perchaunce woulde haue sounded more musically, if the first word had bene a dissillable, or two monosillables and not a trissillable: hauing his sharpe accent vppon the Antepenultima as it hath, by which occasion it runnes like a Dactill, and carries the two later sillables away so speedily as it seemes but one foote in our vulgar measure, and by that meanes makes the verse seeme but of eleuen sillables, which odnesse is nothing pleasant to the eare. Iudge some body whether it would haue done better (if it might) haue bene fayd thus, Robóham Dauids sonne, king of Ierusalem. Letting the sharpe accent fall vpon bo, or thus Restóre king Dáuids sónne vntó Ierúsalém. For now the sharpe accent falles vpon bo, and so doth it vpon the last in restóre, which was not in th'other verse. But because we haue seemed to make mention of Cesure, and to appoint his place in euery measure, it shall not be amisse to say somewhat more of it, & also of such pauses as are vsed in vtterance, & what commoditie or delectation they bring either to the speakers or to the hearers.

Of Cesure.

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

Of Proportion in Concord, called Symphonie or rime.

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

Of accent, time and stir perceiued euidently in the distinction of mans voice, and which makes the flowing of a meeter.

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

Of your Cadences by which your meeter is made Symphonicall when they be sweetest and most solemne in a verse.

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

How the good maker will not wrench his word to helpe his rime, either by falsifying his accent, or by untrue orthographie.

Now there can not be in a maker a fowler fault then to falsifie his accent to serue his cadence, or by vntrue orthographie to wrench his words to helpe his rime, for it is a signe that such a maker is not copious in his owne language, or (as they are wont to say) not halfe his crafts maister: as for example, if one should rime to this word [Restore] he may not match him with [Doore] or [Poore] for neither of both are of like terminant, either by good orthography or in naturall sound, therfore such rime is strained, so is it to this word [Ram] to say [came] or to [_Beane [Den] for they sound not nor be written alike, & many other like cadences which were superfluous to recite, and are vsuall with rude rimers who obserue not precisely the rules of [prosodie] neuerthelesse in all such cases (if necessitie constrained) it is somewhat more tolerable to help the rime by false orthographie, than to leaue an unpleasant dissonance to the eare, by keeping trewe orthographie and loosing the rime, as for example it is better to rime [Dore] with [Restore] then in his truer orthographie, which is [Doore] and to this word [Desire] to say [Fier] then fyre though it be otherwise better written fire. For since the cheife grace of our vulgar Poesie consisteth in the Symphonie, as hath bene already sayd, our maker must not be too licentious in his concords, but see that they go euen, iust and melodious in the eare, and right so in the numerositie or currantnesse of the whole body of his verse, and in euery other of his proportions. For a licentious maker is in truth but a bungler and not a Poet. Such men were in effect the most part of all your old rimers and specially Gower, who to make vp his rime would for the most part write his terminant sillable with false orthographie, and many times not sticke to put in a plaine French word for an English, & so by your leaue do many of our common rimers at this day: as he that by all likelyhood, hauing no word at hand to rime to this word [ioy] he made his other verse ende in [Roy] saying very impudently thus, O mightie Lord of loue, dame Venus onely ioy Who art the highest God of any heauenly Roy. Which word was neuer yet receiued in our language for an English word. Such extreme licentiousnesse is vtterly to be banished from our schoole, and better it might haue bene borne with in old riming writers, bycause they liued in a barbarous age, & were graue morall men but very homely Poets, such also as made most of their workes by translation out of the Latine and French toung, & few or none of their owne engine as may easely be knowen to them that list to looke vpon the Poemes of both languages.

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

Chap. IX.

Of Concorde in long and short measures, and by neare or farre distaunces, and which of them is most commendable.

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

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

Of proportion by situation.

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

[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line three
and line two connected to line four.]
Scituation in Concord ————— \
                      ————— ) \
                      ————— / )
                      ————— /

Scituation in Measure ——— ——————
                      ———- ————-
                      ———— ——————
                      ————- ———
                      ————- ————-
                      ———— ——————
                      ———- ———
                      ——— ——————
                                               ——————
                                               ———
                                               ———

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

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

[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line two and line three connected to line four.]

Second distance is, when ye passe ouer one verse, and ioyne the first and the third, and so continue on till an other like distance fall in, and this is also usuall and common, as

[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line three and line two connected to line four.]

Third distauce is, when your rime falleth vpon the first and fourth verse ouerleaping two; this manner is not so common but pleasant and allowable inough.

[Illustration: diagram of four lines with line one connected to line four and line two connected to line three.]

In which case the two verses ye leaue out are ready to receiue their concordes by the same distaunce or any other ye like better.

The fourth distaunce is by ouerskipping three verses and lighting vpon the fift, this manner is rare and more artificiall then popular, vnlesse it be in some special case, as when the meetres be so little and short as they make no shew of any great delay before they returne, ye shall haue example of both.

[Illustration: two diagrams: the first of five lines with line 1 connected to line 5 and lines 2, 3, and 4 connected; the second of ten lines with line 1 and 5 connected, lines 2 and 6 connected, lines 3 and 7 connected, lines 4 and 8 connected, lines 5 and 9 connected, and lines 8 and 10 connected.]

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

—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,—,

There be larger distances also, as when the first concord falleth upon the sixt verse & is very pleasant if they be ioyned with other distances not so large as

[Illustration: diagram of six lines with lines 1 and 6 connected, line 2 and 5 connected, and lines 3 and 4 connected.]

There be also, of the seuenth, eight, tenth, and twefth distance, but then they may not go thicke, but two or three such distances serue to proportion a whole song, and all betweene must be of other lesse distances, and these wide distaunces serue for coupling of slaues, or for to declare high and passionate or graue matter, and also for art: Petrarch hath giuen us examples hereof in his Canzoni, and we by lines of sundry lengths & and distances as followeth,

[Illustration: four diagrams: first of eight lines with lines 1 and 8 connected, 2 and 3 connected, 4 and 5 connected, and 6 and 7 connected; second of ten lines with lines 1 and 10 connected, 2 and 4 connected, 3 and 5 connected, 5 and 7 connected, 6 and 8 connected and 7 and 9 connected; third of twelve lines with lines 1 and 12 connected, 2 and 5 connected, 3 and 4 connected, and 6 and 9 connected, 7 and 8 connected, 9 and 12 connected, 10 and 11 connected; fourth of thirteen lines with 1 and 13 connected, 2 and 5 connected, 3 and 4 connected, 6 and 9 connected, 7 and 8 connected, 10 and 13 connected, and 11 and 12 connected.]

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

There is another sort of proportion used by Petrarche called the
Seizino, not riming as other songs do, but by chusing sixe wordes out of
which all the whole dittie is made, euery of those sixe commencing and
ending his verse by course, which restraint to make the dittie sensible
will try the makers cunning, as thus.
    ———————- )
  ( ———————- )
  ( ———————- )
  ( ———————- )
  ( ———————- )
  ( ———————-

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

[Illustration: two diagrams: Concord in Plaine compasse, has four lines with 1 and 4 connected and 2 and 3 connected; Concord in Entertangle, has alternating lines connected - 1 and 3, 2 and 4, 3 and 5, etc.]

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

[Illustration: three diagrams of four lines each: first, with lines 1 and 4 connected and lines 2 and 3 connected; second, with lines 1 and 3 connected and lines 2 and 4 connected; third, with lines 1 and 2 connected and lines 3 and 4 connected.]

The staffe of fiue hath seuen proportions, whereof some of them be harsher and vnpleasaunter to the eare then other some be.

[Illustration: seven diagrams of five lines each: first, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 3 with 5; second, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 4, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; third, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 2, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; fourth, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 4, 2 with 3, 4 with 5; fifth, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 5, 2 with 3, 3 with 4; sixth, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 4 with 5; seventh, connecting these pairs of lines - 1 with 2, 2 with 4, 3 with 5.]

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

[Illustration: ten diagrams of six lines each: first, connecting these lines - 1 with 6, 2 with 5, 3 with 4; second, connecting these lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 5 with 6; third, connecting these lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 6, 3 with 4 and 5; fourth, connecting these lines - 1 with 4, 2 with 5, 3 with 6; fifth, connecting these lines - 1 with 6, 2 with 4, 3 with 5; sixth, connecting these lines - 1 with 6, 2 with 3, 4 with 5; seventh, connecting these lines - 1 with 5, 2 with 6, 3 with 4; eighth, connecting these lines - 1 with 2, 5 and 6, 3 with 4; ninth, connecting these lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 5, 4 with 6; tenth, connecting these lines - 1 with 2 and 4, 3 with 5 and 6.]

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

[Illustration: eight diagrams of seven lines each: first, connecting these lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 4 with 6, 5 with 7; second, connecting these lines - 1 with 3, 2 with 4, 3 with 5, 6 with 7; third, connecting these lines - 1 with 4, 2 with 3, 4 with 7, 5 with 6; fourth, connecting these lines - 1 with 2, 6 and 7, 3 with 4 and 5; fifth, connecting these lines - 1 with 7, 2 with 6, 3 with 4 and 5; sixth, connecting these lines - 1 with 2, 5 and 6, 3 with 4 and 7; seventh, connecting these lines - 1 with 4 and 7, 2 with 3, 5 and 6; eighth, connecting these lines - 1 with 2, 3 with 4 and 5, 6 with 7.]

The huitain or staffe of eight verses, hath eight proportions such as the former staffe, and is because he is longer, he hath one more then the sestaine.

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

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

———- ————— ————— ——— ————- ————— ————— ——————— ——————- ————— —— ————— ——————— ——————- ———— —— ————— ——————— ————- ——— ————— —— ——— ———- ——— ————— ——— ——————— ————- ———— —— ——— ——————— —————- ————— —— ——— ——————— ——————- ————— —— ———

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

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

Of Proportion in figure.

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

[Illustration: labelled diagrams of lines of different lengths (forming
different shapes):
The Lozange, called Rombus (diamond)
The Fuzie or spindle, called Romboides (narrow diamond)
The Triangle or Tricquet (pyramid)
The Square or quadrangle (square)
The Pillaster or Cillinder (tall rectangle)
The Spire or taper, called piramis (tall pyramid)
The Rondel or Sphere (circle)
The egge or figure ouall (vertical egg)
The Tricquet reuerst (triangle)
The Tricquet displayed (hour-glass)
The Taper reuersed (narrow triangle)
The Rondel displayed (half circle upon the other half)
The Lozange reuersed (wide diamond <>) u
The Egge displayed (half oval upon the other half - n)
The Lozange rabbated (hexagon).]

Of the Lozange.

The Lozange is a most beautifull figure, & fit for this purpose, being in his kind a quadrangle reuerst, with his point vpward like to a quarrell of glasse the Greekes and Latines both call it Rombus which may be the cause as I suppose why they also gaue that name to the fish commonly called the Turbot, who beareth iustly that figure, it ought not to containe about thirteene or fifteene or one & twentie meetres, & the longest furnisheth the middle angle, the rest passe vpward and downward, still abating their lengthes by one or two sillables till they come to the point: the Fuzie is of the same nature but that he is sharper and slenderer. I will giue you an example of two of those which my Italian friend bestowed vpon me, which as neare as I could I trnslated into the same figure obseruing the phrase of the Orientall speach word for word.

A great Emperor in Tartary whom they cal Can, for his good fortune
in the wars & many notable conquests he had made, was surnamed
Temir Cutzclewe, this man loued the Lady Kermesine, who
presented him returning from the conquest of Corasoon (a great kindgom
adioyning) with this Lozange made in letters of rubies & diamants
entermingled thus:
                     Sound
                   O Harpe
                 Shril lie out
               Temir the stout
             Rider who with sharpe
         Trenching slide of brite steele
       Hath made his feircest foes so feele
     All such as wrought him shame or harme
      The strength of his braue right arme,
        Cleauing hard downe vnto the eyes
         The raw skulles of his enemies
           Much honour hath he wonne
             By doughtie deedes done
                In Cora soon
                  And all the
                      Worlde
                      Round.

To which Can Temir answered in Fuzie, _with letters of Emeralds and Ametists artificially cut and entermingled, thus

                      Five
                  Sore batailes
                Manfully fought
              In blouddy fielde
            With bright blade in hand
          Hath Temir won & forst to yeld
        Many a Captaine strong and stoute
       And many a king his Crowne to vayle,
      Conquering large countreys and land,
     Yet ne uer wanne I vic to rie
    I speake it to my greate glorie
     So deare and ioy full vn to me,
      As when I did first con quere thee
       O Kerme sine, of all myne foes
        The most cruell, of all myne woes
         The smartest , the sweetest
           My proude con quest
             My ri chest pray
               O once a daye
                Lend me thy sight
                 Whose only light
                    Keepes me
                      Alive.

Of the Triange or Triquet.

The triangle is an halfe square, Lozange or Fuzie parted vpon the crosse angles: and so his base being brode and his top narrow it receaueth meetres of many sizes one shorter then another: and ye may vse this figure standing or reuersed, as thus.

A certaine great Sultan of Persia called Ribuska, entertaynes in loue the Lady Selamour, sent her this triquet reuest pitiously bemoaning his estate, all set in merquetry with letters of blew Saphire and Topas artificially cut and entermingled.

    Selamour dearer then his owne life
     To thy di stresssed wretch cap tive,
      Ri buska whome late ly erst
       Most cru el ly thou perst
        With thy dead ly dart,
         That paire of starres
          Shi ning a farre
           Turne from me, to me
            That I may & may not see
             The smile, the loure
              That lead and driue
               Me to die to liue
                Twise yea thrise
                   In one
                     hourre.

To which Selamour to make the match egall, and the figure entire,
answered in a standing Triquet richly engrauen with letters of like
stuffe.
                     Power
                    Of death
                  Nor of life
                Hath Selamour,
              With Gods it is rife
            To giue and bereue breath
          I may for pitie perchaunce
        Thy lost libertie re - store,
      Vpon thine othe with this penaunce,
   That while thou liuest thou neuer loue no more.

This condition seeming to Sultan Ribuska very hard to performe, and cruell to be enjoyned him, doeth by another figure a Taper, signifying hope, answere the Lady Selamour, which dittie for lack of time I translated not.

Of the Spire or Taper called Pyramis.

The Taper is the longest and sharpest triangle that is, & while he mounts vpward he waxeth continually more slender, taking both his figure and name of the fire, whole flame if ye marke it, is alwaies pointed, and naturally by his forme couets to clymbe: the Greekes call him Pyramis. The Latines in vse of Architecture call him Obeliscus, it holdeth the altitude of six ordinary triangles, and in metrifying his base can not well be larger then a meetre of six, therefore in his altitude he will require diuers rabates to hold so many sizes of meetres as shall serue for his composition, for neare the toppe there wil be roome little inough for a meetre of two sillables, and sometimes of one to finish the point. I haue set you downe one or two examples to try how ye can disgest the maner of the deuise.

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

          Skie, 1
          ——-
         A zurd 2
         in the
         assurde.
         ————
        And better, 3
        And richer,
        Much greter,
       ———————
      Crowne & empir
      After an hier
      For to aspire 4
      Like flames of fire
      In formes of spire
     —————————-
     To mount on hie,
     Con ti nu al ly
     With trauel & teen
     Most gratious queen
     Ye haue made a vow 5
     Shewes vs plainly how
     Not fained but true
     To euery mans vue
     Shining cleere in you
     Of so bright an hewe
     Euen thus vertwe
     ——————————-
   Vanish out of our sight
   Till his fine top be quite
   To taper in the ayre 6
   Endeavors soft and faire
   By his kindly nature
   Of tall comely stature
   Like as this faire figure

_From God the fountaine of all good, are deriued into the world all good things: and vpon her maiestie all the good fortunes any worldly creature can be furnisht with. Reade downward according to the nature of the deuice.

    1 God
                    On
                    Hie
                    Frome
    2 A bove
                  Sends loue,
                  Wise dome,
                  Iu stice
                  Cou rage,
                  Boun tie,
    3 And doth geue
                All that liue
                Life & breath
                Harts ese helth
                Children, welth
                Beauty strength
                Restfull age,
                And at length
                A mild death,
    4 He doeth bestowe
              All mens fortunes
              Both high & low
              And the best things
              That earth can haue
              Or mankind craue,
              Good queens & kings
              Fi nally is the same
              Who gaue you (madam)
              Seyson of this Crowne
              With pouer soueraigne
    5 Impug nable right,
            Redoubt able might,
            Most prosperous raigne
            Eternall re nowne,
            And that your chiefest is
            Sure hope of heavens blis.

The Piller, Pillaster or Cillinder.

The Piller is a figure among all the rest of the Geometricall most beawtifull, in respect that he is tall and vpright and of one bignesse from the bottom to the toppe. In Architecture he is considered with two accessarie parts, a pedestall or base, and a chapter or head, the body is the shaft. By this figure is signified stay, support, rest, state and magnificence, your dittie then being reduced into the forme of a Piller, his base will require to beare the breath of a meetre of six or seuen or eight sillables: the shaft of foure: the chapter egall with the base, of this proportion I will giue you one or two examples which may suffise.

Her Maiestie resembled to the crowned piller, Ye must read vpward.

 Is blisse with immortalitie.
   Her trymest top of all ye see,
      Garnish the crowne.
      Her iust renowne
      Chapter and head,
      Parts that maintain
      And woman head
      Her mayden raigne
      In te gri tie:
      In ho nour and
      with ve ri tie:
      Her roundnes stand
      Strengthen the state.
      By their increase
      With out de bate
      Concord and peace
      Of her sup port,
      They be the base
      with stedfastnesse
      Vertue and grace
      Stay and comfort
      Of Albi ons rest,
      The sounde Pillar
      And seene a farre
      Is plainely exprest
    Tall stately and strayt
   By this no ble pour trayt

  Philo to the Lady Calia, sendeth this Odolet of her prayse
  in forme of a Piller, which ye must read downward.

  Thy princely port and Maijestie
     Is my ter rene dei tie,
        Thy wit and sense
        The streame & source
        Of e l o quence
        And deepe discours,
        Thy faire eyes are
        My bright load starre,
        Thy speach a darte
        Percing my harte,
        Thy face a las,
        My loo king glasse,
        Thy loue ly lookes
        My prayer bookes,
        Thy pleasant cheare
        My sunshine cleare
        Thy ru full sight
        My darke midnight,
        Thy will the stent
        Of my con tent,
        Thy glo rye flour
        Of myne ho nour,
        Thy loue doth giue
        The lyfe I lyve,
        Thy lyfe it is
        Mine earthly blisse:
   But grace & fauour in thine eies
   My bodies soule & souls paradise.

The Roundell or Spheare.

The most excellent of all the figures Geometrical is the round for his many perfections. First because he is euen & smooth, without any angle, or interruption, most voluble and apt to turne, and to continue motion, which is the author of life: he conteyneth in him the commodious description of euery other figure, & for his ample capacitie doth resemble the world or uniuers, & for his indefiniteness hauing no speciall place of beginning nor end, beareth a similitude with God and eternitie. This figure hath three principall partes in his nature and vse much considerable: the circle, the beame, and the center. The circle is his largest compasse or circumference: the center is his middle and indiuisible point: the beame is a line stretching directly from the circle to the center, & contrariwise from the center to the circle. By this description our maker may fashion his meetre in Roundel, either with the circumference, and that is circlewise, or from the circumference, that is, like a beame, or by the circumference, and that is ouerthwart and dyametrally from one side of the circle to the other.

A generall resemblance of the Roundell to God, the world and the Queene.

  All and whole, and euer, and one,
  Single, simple, eche where, alone,
  These be counted as Clerkes can tell,
  True properties, of the Roundell.
  His still turning by consequence
  And change, doe breede both life and sense.
  Time, measure of stirre and rest.
  Is also by his course exprest.
  How swift the circle stirre aboue,
  His center point, doeth neuer moue:
  All things that euer were or be,
  Are closde in his concauitie.
  And though he be, still turnde and tost,
  No roome there wants nor none is lost.
  The Roundell hath no bonch or angle,
  Which may his course stay or entangle.
  The furthest part of all his spheare,
  Is equally both farre and neare.
  So doth none other figure fare
  Where natures chattels closed are:
  And beyond his wide compasse,
  There is no body nor no place,
  Nor any wit that comprehends,
  Where it begins, or where it ends:
  And therefore all men doe agree,
  That it purports eternitie.
  God aboue the heauens so hie
  Is this Roundell, in world the skie,
  Vpon earth she, who beares the bell
  Of maydes and Queenes, is this Roundell:
  All and whole and euer alone,
  Single, sans peere, simple, and one.

A speciall and particular resemblance of her Maiestie to the Roundell.

  First her authoritie regall
  Is the circle compassing all:
  The dominion great and large
  Which God hath geuen to her charge:
  Whithin which most spatious bound
  She enuirons her people round,
  Retaining them by oth and liegeance.
  Whithin the pale of true obeysance:
  Holding imparked as it were,
  Her people like to heards of deere.
  Sitting among them in the middes
  Where foe allowes and bannes and bids
  In what fashion she list and when,
  The seruices of all her men.
  Out of her breast as from an eye,
  Issue the rayes incessantly
  Of her iustice, bountie and might
  Spreading abroad their beams so bright
  And reflect not, till they attaine
  The fardest part of her domaine.
  And makes eche subiect clearley see,
  What he is bounden for to be
  To God his Prince and common wealth,
  His neighbour, kinred and to himselfe.
  The same centre and middle pricke,
  Whereto our deedes are drest so thicke,
  From all the parts and outmost side
  Of her Monarchie large and wide,
  Also fro whence reflect these rayes,
  Twentie hundred maner of wayes
  Where her will is them to conuey
  Within the circle of her suruey.
  So is the Queene of Briton ground,
  Beame, circle, center of all my round.

Of the square or quadrangle equilater.

The square is of all other accompted the figure of most folliditie and stedfastnesse, and for his owne stay and firmitie requireth none other base then himselfe, and therefore as the roundell or Spheare is appropriat to the heauens, the Spire to the element of the fire: the Triangle to the ayre, and the Lozange to the water: so is the square for his inconcussable steadinesse likened to the earth, which perchaunce might be the reason that the Prince of Philosophers in his first booke of the Ethicks, termeth a constant minded man, euen egal and direct on all sides, and not easily ouerthrowne by euery little aduersitie, hominem quadratum, a square man. Into this figure may ye reduce your ditties by vsing no moe verses then your verse is of sillables, which will make him fall out square, if ye go aboue it wil grow into the figure Trapezion, which is some portion longer then square. I neede not giue you any example, by cause in good arte all your ditties, Odes & Epigrammes should keepe & not exceede the nomber of twelue verses, and the longest verse to be of twelue sillables & not aboue, but vnder that number as much as ye will.

The figure Ouall.

This figure taketh his name of an egge, and also as it is thought his first origine, and is as it were a bastard or imperfect rounde declining toward a longitude, and yet keeping within one line for his periferie or compasse as the rounde, and it seemeth that he receiueth this forme not as an imperfection but any impediment vnnaturally hindring his rotunditie, but by the wisedome and prouidence of nature for the commoditie of generation in such of her creatures as bring not forth a liuely body (as do foure footed beasts) but in stead thereof a certaine quantitie of shapelesse matter contained in a vessell, which after it is sequestred from the dames body receiueth life and perfection, as in the egges of birdes, fishes, and serpents: for the matter being of some quantitie, and to issue out at a narrow place, for the easie passage thereof, it must of necessitie beare such shape as might not be sharpe and greeuous to passe at an angle, nor so large or obtuse as might not essay some issue out with one part moe then other as the rounde, therefore it must be slenderer in some part, & yet not without a rotunditie & smoothnesse to giue the rest an easie deliuerie. Such is the figure Ouall whom for his antiquitie, dignitie and vse, I place among the rest of the figures to embellish our proportions: of this sort are diuers of Anacreons ditties, and those other of the Grecian Liricks, who wrate wanton amorous deuises, to solace their witts with all, and many times they would (to giue it right shape of an egg) deuide a word in the midst, and peece out the next verse with the other halfe, as ye may see by perusing their meetres.

When I wrate of these deuices, I smiled with myselfe, thinking that the readers would do so to, and many of them say, that such trifles as these might well haue bene spared, considering the world is full inough of them, and that it is pitie mens heades should be fedde with such vanities as are to none edification nor instruction, either of morall vertue, or otherwise behooffull for the common wealth, to whose seruice (say they) we are all borne, and not to fill and replenish a whole world full of idle toyes. To which sort of reprehendours, being either all holy and mortified to the world, and therefore esteeming nothing that fauoureth not of Theologie, or altogether graue and worldy, and therefore caring for nothing but matters of pollicie, & discourses of estate, or all giuen to thrift and passing for none art that is not gainefull and lucratiue, as the sciences of the Law, Phisicke and marchaundise: to these I will giue none other aunswere then referre them to the many trifling poemes of Homer, Ouid, Virgill, Catullus and other notable writers of former ages, which were not of any grauitie or seriousnesse, and many of them full of impudicitie and ribaudrie, as are not these of ours, nor for any good in the world should haue bene: and yet those trifles are come from many former siecles vnto our times, vncontrolled or condemned or supprest by any Pope or Patriarch or other seuere censor of the ciuill maners of men, but haue bene in all ages permitted as the conuenient solaces and recreations of mans wit. And as I can not denie but these conceits of mine be trifles: no lesse in very deede be all the most serious studies of man, if we shall measure grauitie and lightnesse by the wise mans ballance who after he had considered of all the profoundest artes and studies among men, in th'ende cryed out with this Epyphoneme, Vanitas vanitatum & omnia vanitas. Whose authoritie if it were not sufficient to make me beleeue so, I could be content with Democritus rather to condemne the vanities of our life by derision, then as Heraclitus with teares, saying with that merrie Greeke thus, Omnia sunt risus, sunt puluis, & omnia nil sunt. Res hominum cunctae, nam ratione carent. Thus Englished, All is but a iest, all daft, all not worth two peason: For why in mans matters is neither rime nor reason.

Now passing from these courtly trifles, let vs talke of our scholastical toyes, that is of the Grammaticall versifying of the Greeks and Latines and see whether it might be reduced into our English arte or no.

How if all maner of sodaine innouatians were not very scandalous, specially in the lawes of any langage or arte, the use of the Greeke and Latine feete might be brought into our vulgar Poesie, and with good grace enough.

Now neuerthelesse albeit we haue before alledged that our vulgar Saxon English standing most vpon wordes monosillable, and little vpon polysillables doth hardly admit the vse of those fine inuented feete of the Greeks & Latines, and that for the most part wise and graue men doe naturally mislike with all sodaine innouations specially of lawes (and this the law of our auncient English Poesie) and therefore lately before we imputed it to a nice & scholasticall curiositie in such makers as haue fought to bring into our vulgar Poesie some of the auncient feete, to wit the Dactile into verses exameters, as he that translated certaine bookes of Virgils Eneydos in such measures & not vncommendably: if I should now say otherwise it would make me seeme contradictorie to my selfe, yet for the information of our yong makers, and pleasure of all others who be delighted in noueltie, and to th'intent we may not seeme by ignorance or ouersight to omit any point of subtillitie, materiall or necessarie to our vulgar arte, we will in this present chapter & by our own idle obseruations shew how one may easily and commodiously lead all those feete of the auncients into our vulgar language. And if mens eares were not perchaunce to daintie, or their iudgementes ouer partiall, would peraduenture nothing at all misbecome our arte, but make in our meetres a more pleasant numerositie then now is. Thus farre therefore we will aduenture and not beyond, to th'intent to shew some singularitie in our arte that euery man hath not heretofore obserued, and (her maiesty good liking always had) whether we make the common readers to laugh or to lowre, all is a matter, since our intent is not so exactlie to prosecute the purpose, nor so earnestly, as to thinke it should by authority of our owne iudgement be generally applauded at to the discredit of our forefathers maner of vulgar Poesie, or to the alteration or peraduenture totall destruction of the same, which could not stand with any good discretion or curtesie in vs to attempt, but thus much I say, that by some leasurable trauell it were no hard matter to induce all their auncient feete into vse with vs, and that it should proue very agreable to the eare and well according with our ordinary times and pronunciation, which no man could then iustly mislike, and that is to allow euery world polisillable one long time of necessitie, which should be where his sharpe accent falls in our owne ydiome most aptly and naturally, wherein we would not follow the license of the Greeks and Latines, who made not their sharpe accent any necessary prolongation of their tunes, but vsed such sillable sometimes long sometimes short at their pleasure. The other sillables of any word where the sharpe accent fell not, to be accompted of such time and quantitie as his ortographie would best beare hauing regard to himselfe, or to his next neighbour word, bounding him on either side, namely to the smoothnes & hardnesse of the sillable in his vtterance, which is occasioned altogether by his ortographie & situation as in this word [dáyly] the first sillable for his vsuall and sharpe accentes sake to be always long, the second for his flat accents sake to be alwayes shoft, and the rather for his ortographie, bycause if he goe before another word commencing with a vowell not letting him to be eclipsed, his vtterance is easie & currant, in this trissilable [dau-nge`ro`us] the first to be long, th'other two short for the same causes. In this word [da-nge`rou`sne-sse] the first & last to be both long, bycause they receiue both of them the sharpe accent, and the two middlemost to be short, in these words [remedie] & [remedilesse] the time to follow also the accent, so as if it please better to set the sharpe accent vpon [re] then vpon [dye] that sillable should be made long and é conuerso, but in this word [remedilesse] bycause many like better to accent the sillable [me] then the sillable [les] therefore I leaue him for a common sillable to be able to receiue both a long and a short time as occasion shall serue. The like law I set in these wordes [reuocable][recouerable] [irreuocable][irrecouerable] for sometimes it sounds better to say ré-uo`ca-blé then re`uo-ca`ble`, re-cóue`rable then réco-ue`ra`blé for this one thing ye must alwayes marke that if your time fall either by reason of his sharpe accent or otherwise vpon the penultima, ye shal finde many other words to rime with him, bycause such terminations are not geazon, but if the long time fall vpon the antepenultima ye shall not finde many wordes to match him in his termination, which is the cause of his concord or rime, but if you would let your long time by his sharpe accent fall aboue the antepenultima as to say [co-ue`ra`ble] ye shall seldome or perchance neuer find one to make vp rime with him vnlesse it be badly and by abuse, and therefore in all such long polisillables ye doe commonly giue two sharpe accents, and thereby reduce him into two feete as in this word [re-mu`nèra`ti`on] which makes a couple of good Dactils, and in this word [contribu-ti`o`n] which makes a good spo-ndeus & a good dactill, and in this word [reca-pi`tu`la-tio`n] it makes two dactills and a sillable ouerplus to annexe to the word precedent to helpe peece vp another foote. But for wordes monosillables (as be most of ours) because in pronouncing them they do of necessitie retaine a sharpe accent, ye may iustly allow then to be all long if they will so best serue your turne, and if they be tailed one to another, or th'one to a dissillable or polyssillable ye ought to allow them that time that best serues your purpose and pleaseth your eare most, and truliest aunsweres the nature of the ortographie in which I would as neare as I could obserue and keepe the lawes of the Greeke and Latine versifiers, that is to prolong the sillable which is written with double consonants or by dipthong or with finale consonants that run hard and harshly vpon the toung: and to shorten all sillables that stand vpon vowels, if there were no cause of elision and single consonants & such of them as are most flowing and slipper vpon the toung as n.r.t.d.l. for this purpose to take away all aspirations, and many times the last consonant of a word as the Latine Poetes vsed to do, specially Lucretius and Ennnius to say [finibu] for [finibus] and so would not I stick to say thus [delite] for [delight] [hye] for [high] and such like, & doth nothing at all impugne the rule I gaue before against the wresting of wordes by false ortographie to make vp rime, which may not be falsified. But this omission of letters in the middest of a meetre to make him the more slipper, helpes the numerositie and hinders not the rime. But generally the shortning or prolonging of the monosillables dependes much vpon the nature or their ortographie which the Latin Grammariens call the rule of position, as for example if I shall say thus. No-t ma`ni`e daye-s pa-st. Twentie dayes after, This makes a good Dactill and a good spondeus, but if ye turne them backward it would not do so, as. Many dayes, not past. And the distick made all of monosillables. Bu-t no-ne o-f u-s tru-e me-n a-nd fre-e, Could finde so great good lucke as he. Which words serue well to make the verse all spondiacke or iambicke, but not in dactil, as other words or the same otherwise placed would do, for it were at illfauored dactil to say. Bu-t no`ne o`f, u-s a`ll tre`we.

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

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

A more particular declaration of the metricall feete of the ancient Poets Greeke and Latine and chiefly of the feete of two times.

Their Grammarians made a great multitude of feete, I wot not to what huge number, and of so many sizes as their wordes were of length, namely sixe sizes, whereas indeede, the metricall feete are but twelve in number, wherof foure only be of two times, and eight of three times, the rest compounds of the premised two sorts, even as the Arithmeticall numbers aboue three are made of two and three. And if ye will know how many of these feete will be commodiously received with vs, I say all the whole twelve, for first for the foote, spondeus of two long times ye haue these English words mo-rni-ng, mi-dni-ght, mi-scha-unce, and a number moe whose ortographie may direct your iudgement in this point: for your Trocheus of a long and short ye haue these words ma-ne`r, bro-ke`n, ta-ke`n, bo-die`, me-mbe`r, and a great many moe if there last sillables abut not vpon the consonant in the beginning of another word, and in these whether they do abut or no wi-tti`e, di-tti`e, so-rro`w, mo-rro`w, & such like, which end in a vowell for your Iambus of a short and a long, ye haue these words [re`sto-re] [re`mo-rse] [de`si-re] [e`ndu-re] and a thousand besides. For your foote pirrichius or of two short silables ye haue these words [ma`ni`e] [mo`ne`y] [pe`ni`e] [si`lie`] and others of that construction or the like: for your feete of three times and first your dactill, ye haue these words & a number moe pa-ti`e`nce, te-mpe`ra`nce, wo-ma`nhea`d, io-li`ti`e, dau-nge`ro`us, du-eti`fu`ll & others. For your molossus, of all three long, ye haue a member of wordes also and specially most of your participles actiue, as pe-rsi-sti-ng, de-spo-ili-ng, e-nde-nti-ng, and such like in ortographie: for your anapestus of two short and a long ye haue these words but not many moe, as ma`ni`fo-ld, mo`ni`le-sse, re`ma`ne-nt, ho`li`ne-sse. For your foote tribracchus of all three short, ye haue very few trissillables, because the sharpe accent will aways make one of them long by pronunciation, which els would be by ortographie short as, [me`ri`ly`] [minion] & such like. For your foote bacchius of a short & two long ye haue these and the like words trissillables [la`me-nti-ng] [re`que-sti-ng] [re`nou-nci-ng] [re`pe-nta-nce] [e`nu-ri-ng]. For your foote antibacchius, of two long and a short ye haue these words [fo-rsa-ke`n] [i-mpu-gne`d] and others many: For your amphimacer that is a long, a short and a long ye haue these words and many more [e-xce`lle-nt] [i-mi`ne-nt] and specially such as be propre names of persons or townes or other things and namely Welsh words; for your foote amphibracchus, of a short, a long and a short, ye haue these words and many like to these [re`si-ste`d] [de`li-ghtfu`ll] [re`pri-sa`ll] [i`nau-nte`r] [e`na-mi`ll] so as for want of English wordes if your eare be not to daintie and your rules to precise, ye neede not be without the metricall feete of the ancient Poets such as be most pertinent and not superfluous. This is (ye will perchaunce say) my singular opinion: then ye shall see how well I can maintaine it. First the quantitie of a word comes either by (preelection) without reason or force as hath bene alledged, and as the auncient Greekes and Latines did in many wordes, but not in all, or by (election) with reason as they did in some, and not a few. And a sound is drawen at length either by the infirmitie of the toung, because the word or sillable is of such letters as hangs long in the palate or lippes ere he will come forth, or because he is accented and tuned hier and sharper then another, whereby he somewhat obscureth the other sillables in the same word that be not accented so high, in both these cases we will establish our sillable long, contrariwise the shortning of a sillable is, when his sounde or accent happens to be heauy and flat, that is to fall away speedily, and as it were inaudible, or when he is made of such letters as be by nature slipper & voluble and smoothly passe from the mouth. And the vowell is alwayes more easily deliuered then the consonant: and of consonants, the liquide more than the mute, & a single consonant more then a double, and one more then twayne coupled together: all which points were obserued by the Greekes and Latines, and allowed for maximes in versifying. Now if ye will examine these foure bissillables [re-mna-nt] [re`ma-ine] [re-nde`r] [re`ne`t] for an example by which ye may make a generall rule, and ye shall finde, that they aunswere our first resolution. First in [remnant] [rem] bearing the sharpe accent and hauing his consonant abbut vpon another, soundes long. The sillable [nant] being written with two consonants must needs be accompted the same, besides that [nant] by his Latin originall is long, viz. [remane-ns.] Take this word [remaine] because the last sillable beares the sharpe accent, he is long in the eare, and [re] being the first sillable, passing obscurely away with a flat accent is short, besides that [re] by his Latine originall and also by his ortographie is short. This word [render] bearing the sharpe accent upon [ren] makes it long, the sillable [der] falling away swiftly & being also written with a single consonant or liquide is short and makes the trocheus. This word [re`ne`t] hauing both syllables sliding and slipper make the foote Pirrichius, because if he be truly vttered, he beares in maner no sharper accent upon the one then the other sillable, but be in effect egall in time and tune, as is also the Spondeus. And because they be not written with any hard or harsh consonants, I do allow them both for short sillables, or to be used for common, according as their situation and place with other words shall be: and as I haue named to you but onely foure words for an example, so may ye find out by diligent obseruation foure hundred if ye will. But of all your words bissillables the most part naturally do make the foot Iambus, many the Trocheus, fewer the Spondeus, fewest of all the Pirrichius, because in him the sharpe accent (if ye follow the rules of your accent as we haue presupposed) doth make a litle oddes: and ye shall find verses made all of monosillables, and do very well, but lightly they be Iambickes, bycause for the more part the accent falles sharpe vpon euery second word rather then contrariwise, as this of Sir Thomas Wiats. I fi-nde no` pea-ce a`nd ye-t mi`e wa-rre i`s do-ne, I feare and hope, and burne and freese like ise.

And some verses where the sharpe accent falles vpon the first and third,
and so make the verse wholly Trochaicke, as thus,
  Worke not, no nor, with thy friend or foes harme
  Try but, trust not, all that speake thee so faire.

And some verses made of monosillables and bissillables enterlaced as this of th'Earles, When raging loue with extreme paine And this A fairer beast of fresher hue beheld I neuer none.

And some verses made all of bissillables and others all of
trissillables, and others of polisillables egally increasing and of
diuers quantities, and sundry situations, as in this of our owne, made to
daunt the insolence of a beautifull woman.
  Brittle beauty blossome daily fading
  Morne, noone, and eue in age and eke in eld
  Dangerous disdaine full pleasantly perswading
  Easie to gripe but combrous to weld.
  For slender bottome hard and heauy lading
  Gay for a while, but little while durable
  Suspicious, incertaine, irreuocable,
  O since thou art by triall not to trust
  Wisedome it is, and it is also iust
  To sound the stemme before the tree be feld
  That is, since death will driue us all to dust
  To leaue thy loue ere that we be compeld.

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

Of your feet of three times, and first of the Dactil.

Your feete of three times by prescription of the Latine Grammariens are of eight sundry proportions, for some notable difference appearing in euery sillable of three falling in a word of that size: but because aboue the antepenultima there was (among the Latines) none accent audible in any long word, therfore to deuise any foote of longer measure then of three times was to them but superfluous: because all aboue the number of three are but compounded of their inferiours. Omitting therefore to speake of these larger feete, we say that of all your feete of three times the Dactill is most usuall and fit for our vulgar meeter, & most agreeable to the eare, specially if ye ouerlade not your verse with too many of them but here and there enterlace a Iambus or some other foote of two times to giue him grauitie and stay, as in this quadrein Trimeter or of three measures. Rende`r a`gai-ne mi`e li-be`rti`e a`nd se-t yo`ur ca-pti`ue fre-e Glo-ri`ou`s i`s the` vi-cto`ri`e Co-nque`ro`urs u-se wi`th le-ni`ti`e

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

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

The Earle of Surrey upon the death of Sir Thomas Wiat made among other this verse Pentameter and of ten sillables, What holy graue (alas) what sepulcher

But if I had had the making of him, he should haue bene of eleuen sillables and kept his measure of fiue still, and would so haue runne more pleasantly a great deale; for as he is now, though he be euen he seemes odde and defectiue, for not well obseruing the natural accent of euery word, and this would haue bene soone holpen by inserting one monosillable in the middle of the verse, and drawing another sillable in the beginning into a Dactil, this word [holy] being a good [Pirrichius] & very well seruing the turne, thus, Wha-t ho`li`e gra-ue a`la-s wha`t fit se`pu-lche`r. Which verse if ye peruse throughout ye shall finde him after the first dactil all Trochaick & not Iambic, nor of any other foot of two times. But perchance if ye would seeme yet more curious, in place of these four Trocheus ye might induce other feete of three times, as to make the three sillables next following the dactil, the foote [amphimacer] the last word [Sepulcher] the foote [amphibracus] leauing the other midle word for a [Iambus] thus. Wha-t ho`li`e gra-ue a`la-s wha`t fit se`pu-lche`r. If ye aske me further why I make [what] first long & after short in one verse, to that I satisfied you before, that it is by reason of his accent sharpe in one place and flat in another, being a common monosillable, that is, apt to receive either accent, & so in the first place receiuing aptly the sharpe accent he is made long: afterward receiuing the flat accent more aptly then the sharpe, because the sillable precedent [las] vtterly distaines him, he is made short & not long, & that with very good melodie, but to haue giuen him the sharpe accent & plucked it from the sillable [las] it had bene to any mans eare a great discord: for euermore this word [alás] is accented vpon the last, & that lowdly & notoriously as appeareth by all our exclamations vsed vnder that terme. The same Earle of Surrey & Sir Thomas Wyat the first reformers & polishers of our vulgar Poesie much affecting the stile and measures of the Italian Petrarcha, vsed the foote dactil very often but not many in one verse, as in these, Fu-ll ma`ni`e that in presence of thy li-ueli`e he`d, Shed Cæsars teares vpon Po-mpe`iu`s he`d. Th'e-ne`mi`e to life destroi er of all kinde, If a-mo` ro`us faith in an hart un fayned, Myne old dee-re e`ne` my my froward master. The- fu`ri` ous gone in his most ra ging ire.

And many moe which if ye would not allow for dactils the verse would halt vnlesse ye would seeme to helpe it contracting a sillable by vertue of the figure Syneresis which I thinke was neuer their meaning, nor in deede would haue bred any pleasure to the eare, but hindred the flowing of the verse. Howsoeuer ye take it the dactil is commendable inough in our vulgar meetres, but most plausible of all when he is sounded vpon the stage, as in these comicall verses shewing how well it becommeth all noble men and great personages to be temperat and modest, yea more then any meaner man, thus. Le-t no` no`bi-li`ti`e ri-che`s o`r he-ri`ta`ge Ho-no`r o`r e-mpi`re o`r ea-rthli`e do`mi-ni`o`n Bre-ed I`n yo`ur hea-d a`ni`e pe-euish o`pi-ni`o`n That ye` ma`y sa-fe`r a`uo-uch a`ni`e o-utra-ge.

And in this distique taxing the Prelate symoniake standing all upon
perfect dactils.
  No-w ma-ni-e bi-e mo-ne-y pu-rue`y pro`mo-ti`o`n
  For mony mooues any hart to deuotion.

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

_Of all your other feete of three times and how well they would fashion a meetre in our vulgar.__

All your other feete of three times I find no vse of them in our vulgar meeters nor no sweetenes at all, and yet words inough to serue their proportions. So as though they haue not hitherto bene made artificiall, yet nowe by more curious obseruation they might be. Since all artes grew first by obseruation of natures proceedings and custome. And first your [Molossus] being of all three long is euidently discouered by this word [pe-rmi-tti-ng] The [Anapestus] of two short and a long by this word [fu`ri`o-us] if the next word beginne with a consonant. The foote [Bacchius] of a short and two long by this word [re`si-sta-nce] the foote [Antibachius] of two long and a short by this word [e-xa-mple`] the foote [Amphimacer] of a long a short & a long by this word [co-nque`ri-ng] the foote of [Amphibrachus] of a short a long and a short by this word [re`me-mbe`r] if a vowell follow. The foote [Tribrachus_] of three short times is very hard to be made by any of our trissillables vnles they be compounded of the smoothest sort of consonants or sillables vocals, or of three smooth monosillables, or of some peece of a long polysillable & after that sort we may with wresting of words shape the foot [Tribrachus] rather by vsurpation then by rule, which neuertheles is allowed in euery primitiue arte & inuention: & so it was by the Greekes and Latines in their first versifying, as if a rule should be set downe that from henceforth these words should be counted al Tribrachus [e`ne`mi`e] re`me`di`e] se`li`ne`s] mo`ni`le`s] pe`ni`le`s] cru`e`lli`e] & such like, or a peece of this long word [re`co-ue`ra`ble`] innu`me`ra`ble`] rea`di`li`e] and others. Of all which manner of apt wordes to make these stranger feet of three times which go not so currant with our eare as the dactil, the maker should haue a good iudgement to know them by their manner of orthographie and by their accent which serue most fitly for euery foote, or else he shoulde haue always a little calender of them apart to vse readily when he shall neede them. But because in very truth I thinke them but vaine & superstitious obseruations nothing at all furthering the pleasant melody of our English meeter, I leaue to speake any more of them and rather wish the continuance of our old maner of Poesie, scanning our verse by sillables rather than by feete, and vsing most commonly the word Iambique & sometime the Trochaike which ye shall discerne by their accents, and now and then a dactill keeping precisely our symphony or rime without any other mincing measures, which an idle inuentiue head could easily deuise, as the former examples teach.

Of your verses perfect and defectiue; and that which the Graecians called the halfe foote.

The Greekes and Latines vsed verses in the odde sillable of two sortes, which they called Catalecticke and Acatalecticke, that is odde vnder and odde ouer the iust measure of their verse, & we in our vulgar finde many of the like, and specially in the rimes of Sir Thomas Wiat, strained perchaunce out of their originall, made first by Francis Petrarcha: as these Like vnto these, immeasurable mountaines, So is my painefull life the burden of ire: For hie be they, and hie is my desire And I of teares, and they are full of fountaines. Where in your first second and fourth verse, ye may find a sillable superfluous, and though in the first ye will seeme to helpe it, by drawing these three sillables,[i-m me` su`] into a dactil, in the rest it can not be so excused, wherefore we must thinke he did it of purpose, by the odde sillable to giue greater grace to his meetre, and we finde in our old rimes, this odde sillable, sometime placed in the beginning and sometimes in the middle of a verse, and is allowed to go alone & to hang to any other sillable. But this odde sillable in our meetres is not the halfe foote as the Greekes and Latines vsed him in their verses, and called such measure pentimimeris and eptamimeris, but rather is that, which they called the catalectik or maymed verse. Their hemimeris or halfe foote serued not by licence Poeticall or necessitie of words, but to bewtifie and exornate the verse by placing one such halfe foote in the middle Cesure, & one other in the end of the verse, as they vfed all their pentameters elegiack: and not by coupling them together, but by accompt to make their verse of a iust measure and not defectiue or superflous: our odde sillable is not altogether of that nature, but is in a maner drownd and supprest by the flat accent, and shrinks away as it were inaudible and by that meane the odde verse comes almost to be an euen in euery mans hearing. The halfe foote of the auncients was reserued purposely to an vse, and therefore they gaue such odde sillable, wheresoeuer he fell the sharper accent, and made by him a notorious pause as in this pentameter. Ni-l mi` hi` re-scri-ba`s a-tta`me`n i-pse` ve` ni`.

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

Of the breaking your bissillables and polysillables and when it is to be used.

Bvt whether ye suffer your sillable to receiue his quantitie by his accent, or by his ortography, or whether ye keepe your bissillable whole or whether ye breake him, all is one to his quantitie, and his time will appeare the selfe same still and ought not to be altered by our makers, vnlesse it be when such sillable is allowed to be common and to receiue any of both times, as in the dimeter, made of two sillables entier. e-xtre-ame de`si-re

The first is a good spondeus, the second a good iambus, and if the same wordes be broken thus it is not so pleasant. I`n e-x tre-ame de` sire

And yet the first makes a iambus, and the second a trocheus ech sillable retayning still his former quantities. And alwaies ye must haue regard to the sweetenes of the meetre, so as if your word polysillable would not sound pleasantly whole, ye should for the nonce breake him, which ye may easily doo by inserting here and there one monosillable among your polysillables, or by changing your word into another place then where he soundes vnpleasantly, and by breaking, turne a trocheus to a iambus, or contrariwise: as thus: Ho-llo`w va-lle`is u-nde`r hi-e`st mou-ntai`nes Cra-ggi`e cli-ffes bri`ng foo-rth the` fai-re`st fou-ntai`nes

These verses be trochaik, and in mine eare not so sweete and harmonicall
as the iambicque, thus:
  The` ho-llo`wst va-ls li`e u-nde`r hi-e`st mo-unta-ines
  The` cra-ggi`st clifs bri-ng fo-rth the` fai-re`st fou-nta-ines.

All which verses bee now become iambicque by breaking the first bissillables, and yet alters not their quantities though the feete be altered: and thus, Restlesse is the heart in his desires Rauing after that reason doth denie.

Which being turned thus makes a new harmonie. The restlesse heart, renues his old desires Ay rauing after that reason doth it deny.

And following this obseruation your meetres being builded with polysillables will fall diuersly out, that is some to be spondaick, some iambick, others dactilick, others trochaick, and of one mingled with another, as in this verse. He-aui`e I-s the` bu-rde`n of Pri`nce`s i-re

The verse is trochaick, but being altered thus, is iambicque. Fu`ll he-aui`e i-s the` pa-ise o`f Pri-nce`s i-re

And as Sir Thomas Wiat song in a verse wholly trochaick, because the wordes do best shape to that foote by their naturall accent, thus, Fa-rewe`ll lo-ue a`nd a-ll thi`e la-wes fo`r e-ve`r

And in this ditty of th'Erle of Surries, passing sweete and harmonicall:
all be Iambick.
  When raging loue with extreme paine
  So cruell doth straine my hart,
  And that the teares like fluds of raine
  Beare witnesse of my wofull smart.

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

Now furthermore ye are to note, that al monosyllables may receiue the sharp accent, but not so aptly one as another, as in this verse where they serue well to make him iambicque, but not trochaick. Go`d grau-nt thi`s pea-ce ma`y lo-ng e`ndu-re

Where the sharpe accent falles more tunably vpon [graunt] [peace] [long] [dure] then it would by conuersion, as to accent then thus: Go-d grau`nt - thi-s pea`ce - ma-y lo`ng - e-ndu-re.

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

Where ye see one to be a trocheus another the iambus, and so entermingled not by election but by constraint of their seuerall accents, which ought not to be altred, yet comes it to passe that many times ye must of necessitie alter the accent of a sillable, and put him from his naturall place, and then one sillable, of a word polysillable, or one word monosillable, will abide to be made sometimes long, sometimes short, as in this quadreyne of ours playd in a mery moode. Gèue mé mìne ówne ànd whén I dó dèsíre Geue others theirs, and nothing that is mine Nòr gíue mè thát, wherto all men aspire Then neither gold, nor faire women nor wine.

Where in your first verse these two words [giue] and [me] are accented one high th'other low, in the third verse the same words are accented contrary, and the reason of this exchange is manifest, because the maker playes with these two clauses of sundry relations [giue me] and [giue others] so as the monosillable [me] being respectiue to the word [others] and inferring a subtilitie or wittie implication, ought not to haue the same accent, as when he hath no such respect, as in this distik of ours. Pro-ue me` (Madame) ere ye re-pro`ue Meeke minds should e-xcu`se not a-ccu`se.

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

For in this word [reproóue] because there is no extraordinary sence to be inferred, he keepeth his sharpe accent vpon the sillable [proóue] but in the former verses because they seeme to encounter ech other, they do thereby merite an audible and pleasant alteration of their accents in those sillables that cause the subtiltie. Of these maner of nicetees ye shal finde in many places of our booke, but specially where we treate of ornament, vnto which we referre you, sauing that we thought good to set down one example more to solace your mindes with mirth after all these scholasticall preceptes, which can not but bring with them (specially to Courtiers) much tediousnesse, and so to end. In our Comedie intituled Ginecocratia: the king was supposed to be a person very amorous and effeminate, and therefore most ruled his ordinary affaires by the aduise of women either for the loue he bare to their persons of liking he had to their pleasant ready witts and vtterance. Comes me to the Court one Polemon an honest plaine man of the country, but rich: and hauing a suite to the king, met by chaunce with one Philino, a louer of wine and a merry companion in Court, and praied him in that he was a stranger that he would vouchsafe to tell him which way he were best to worke to get his suite, and who were most in credit and fauour about the king, that he might seek to them to furder his attempt. Philino perceyuing the plainnesse of the man, and that there would be some good done with him, told Polemon that if he would well consider him for his labor he would bring him where he should know the truth of all his demaundes by the sentence of the Oracle. Polemon gaue him twentie crownes, Philino brings him into a place where behind an arras cloth hee himselfe spake in manner of an Oracle in these matters, for so did all the Sybils and sothsaiers in old times giue their answers. Your best way to worke - and marke my words well, Not money: nor many, Nor any: but any, Not weemen, but weemen beare the bell.

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

Of Ornament Poeticall.

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

How our writing and speaches publike ought to be figuratiue, and if they be not doe greatly disgrace the cause and purpose of the speaker and writer.

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

How ornament Poeticall is of two sortes according to the double vertue and efficacie of figures.

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

Of Language.

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

These be words vsed by th'author in this present treatise, scientificke, but with some reason, for it ausuereth the word mechanicall, which no other word could haue done so properly, for when hee spake of all artificers which rest either in science or in handy craft, it followed necessarilie that scientifique should be coupled with mechanicall: or els neither of both to haue bene allowed, but in their places: a man of science liberall, and a handicrafts man, which had not bene so cleanly a speech as the other Maior-domo: in truth this word is borrowed of the Spaniard and Italian, and therefore new and not vsuall, but to them that are acquainted with the affaires of Court: and so for his iolly magnificence (as this case is) may be accepted among Courtiers, for whom this is specially written. A man might haue said in steade of Maior-domo, the French word (maistre d'hostell) but ilfauouredly, or the right English word (Lord Steward.) But me thinks for my owne opinion this word Maior-domo though he be borrowed, is more acceptable than any of the rest, other men may iudge otherwise. Politien, this word also is receuied from the Frenchmen, but at this day vsuall in Court and with all good Secretaries: and cannot finde an English word to match him, for to haue said a man politique, had not bene so wel: bicause in trueth that had bene no more than to haue said a ciuil person. Politien is rather a surueyour of ciuilitie than ciuil, & a publique minister or Counseller in the state. Ye haue also this worde Conduict, a French word, but well allowed of vs, and long since vsuall, it soundes somewhat more than this word (leading) for it is applied onely to the leading of a Captaine, and not as a little boy should leade a blinde man, therefore more proper to the case when he saide, conduict of whole armies: ye finde also this word Idiome, taken from the Greekes, yet seruing aptly, when a man wanteth to expresse so much vnles it be in two words, which surplussage to auoide, we are allowed to draw in other words single, and asmuch significatiue: this word significatiue is borrowed of the Latine and French, but to vs brought in first by some Noble-mans Secretarie, as I thinke, yet doth so well serue the turne, as it could not now be spared: and many more like vsurped Latine and French words: as, Methode, methodicall, placation, function, assubriling, refining, compendious, prolixe, figuratiue, inueigle. A terme borrowed of our common Lawyers, impression, also a new terme, but well expressing the matter, and more than our English word. These words, Numerous, numerositee, metricall, harmonicall, but they cannot be refused, specially in this place for description of the arte. Also ye finde these words, penetrate, penetrable, indignitie, which I cannot see how we may spare them, whatsoeuer fault wee finde with Ink-horne termes: for our speach wanteth words to such sense so well to be vsed: yet in steade of indignitie, yee haue vnworthinesse: and for penetrate, we may say peerce, and that a French terme also, or broche, or enter into with violence, but not so well sounding as penetrate. Item, sauage, for wilde: obscure, for darke. Item these words, declamation, delineation, dimention, are scholasticall termes in deede, and yet very proper. But peraduenture (& I could bring a reason for it) many other like words borrowed out of the Latin and French, were not so well to be be allowed by vs, as these words, audacious, for bold: facunditie, for eloquence, egregious, for great or notable: implete, for replenished; attemptat, for attempt: compatible, for agreeable in nature, and many more. But herein the noble Poet Horace hath said inough to satisfie vs all in these few verses. Multa renascentur quae iam cecidere cadentque Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula si volet usus Quem penes artibrium est et ius et norma loquendi. Which I haue thus englished, but nothing with so good grace, nor so briefly as the Poet wrote. Many a word if able shall est arise And such as now bene held in hiest prise Will fall as fast, when vse and custome will Onely vmpiers of speach, for force and skill.

Of Stile.

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

Of the high, low, and meane subiect.

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

Of Figures and figuratuie speaches.

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

Sixe pointes set downe by our learned forefathers for a generall regiment of all good vtterance be it by mouth or by writing.

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

How the Greeks first, and afterward the Latines, inuented new names for euery figure, which this Author is also enforced to doo in his vulgar.

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

A division of figures, and how they serue in exornation of language.

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

Of auricular figures apperteining to single wordes and working by their diuers soundes and audible tunes alteration to the eare onely and not the mynde.

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

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

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

From the beginning, as to say [twixt for betwixt] [gainsay for againsay] [ill for euill].

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

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

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

Your displacing of a sillable as to say [desier for desire] [sier for sire.]

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

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

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

Of Auricular figures pertaining to clauses of speech and by them working no little alteration to the eare.

As your single words may be many waies transfigured to make the meetre or verse more tunable and melodious, so also may your whole and entire clauses be in such sort contriued by the order of their construction as the eare may receiue certaine recreation, although the mind for any noueltie of sence be little or nothing affected. And therefore al your figures of grammaticall construction, I accompt them but merely auricular in that they reach no furder then the eare. To which there will appeare some sweete or vnsauery point to offer you dolour or delight, either by some euident defect, or surplusage, or disorder, or immutation in the same speaches notably altering either the congruitie grammaticall, or the sence, or both.

[Sidenote: Eclipsis or the Figure of default.] And first of those that worke by defect, if but one word or some little portion of speach be wanting, it may be supplied by ordinary vnderstanding and vertue of the figure Eclipsis, as to say so early a man, for [are ye] so early a man: he is to be intreated, for he is [easie] to be intreated: I thanke God I am to liue like a Gentleman, for I am [able] to liue, and the Spaniard said in his deuise of armes acuerdo oluido, I remember I forget whereas in right congruitie of speach it should be: I remember [that I [doo] forget. And in a deuise of our owne [empechement pur a choison] a let for a furderance whereas it should be said [vse] a let for a furderance, and a number more like speaches defectiue, and supplied by common vnderstanding.

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

Here this word forsooke satisfieth the congruitie and sence of all three clauses, which would require euery of them asmuch. And as we setting forth her Maiesties regall petigree said in this figure of [Single supplie.] Her graundsires Father and Brother was a King Her mother a crowned Queene, her Sister and her selfe.

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

[Sidenote: Prozeugma, or the Ringleader.] Yet hath this figure of [Single supply] another propertie, occasioning him to change now and then his name: by the order of his supplie, for if it be placed in the forefront of all the seuerall clauses whom he is to serue as a common seruitour, then is he called by the Greeks Prozeugma, by vs the Ringleader: thus Her beautie perst mine eye, her speach mine wofull hart; Her presence all the powers of my discourse. &c.

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

  [Sidenote: Mezozeugma, or the Middlemarcher.]
And if such word of supplie be placed in the middle of all such clauses as
he serues: it is by the Greeks called Mezozeugma, by us the
[Middlemarcher] thus:
  Faire maydes beautie (alack) with yeares it weares away,
  And with wether and sicknes, and sorrow as they say.

Where ye see this word [weares] serues one clause before him, and two clauses behind him, in one and the same sence and congruitie. And in this verse, Either the troth or talke nothing at all.

Where this word [talke] serues the clause before and also behind.

  [Sidenote: Hypozeugma, or the Rerewarder.]
But if such supplie be placed after all the clauses, and not before nor in
the middle, then is he called by the Greeks Hypozeugma, and by vs the
[Rerewarder] thus:
  My mates that wont, to keepe me companie
  And my neighbours, who dwelt next to my wall
  The friends that sware, they would not sticke to die
  In my quarrell: they are fled from me all.

Where ye see this word [fled from me] serue all the three clauses requiring but one congruitie & sence.

[Sidenote: Sillepsis, or the Double supply.] But if such want be in sundrie clauses, and of seuerall congruities or sence, and the supply be made to serue them all, it is by the figure Sillepsis, whom for that respect we call the [double supplie] conceiuing, and, as it were, comprehending vnder one, a supplie of two natures, and may be likened to the man that serues many masters at once, being of strange Countries or kinreds, as in these verses, where the lamenting widow shewed the Pilgrim the graues in which her husband & children lay buried. Here my sweete sonnes and daughters all my blisse, Yonder mine owne deere husband buried is.

Where ye see one verbe singular supplyeth the plurall and singular, and
thus
  Iudge ye louers, if it be strange or no;
  My Ladie laughs for ioy, and I for wo.

Where ye see a third person supplie himselfe and a first person. And thus,
  Madame ye neuer shewed your selfe vntrue,
  Nor my deserts would euer suffer you.

Viz. to show. Where ye see the moode Indicatiue supply him selfe and an
Infinitiue. And the like in these other.
  I neuer yet failde you in constancie,
  Nor neuer doo intend vntill I die.

Viz. [to show.] Thus much for the congruitie, now for the sence. One
wrote thus of a young man, who slew a villaine that had killed his father,
and rauished his mother.
  Thus valiantly and with a manly minde,
  And by one feate of euerlasting fame,
  This lustie lad fully requited kinde,
  His fathers death, and eke his mothers shame.

Where ye see this word [requite] serue a double sence: that is to say, to reuenge, and to satisfie. For the parents iniurie was reuenged, and the duetie of nature performed or satisfied by the childe.

[Sidenote: Hypozeuxis, or the Substitute.] But if this supplie be made to sundrie clauses, or to one clause sundrie times iterated, and by seuerall words, so as euery clause hath his owne supplie: then is it called by the Greekes Hypozeuxis, we call him the substitute after his originall, and is a supplie with iteration, as thus: Vnto the king she went, and to the king she said, Mine owne liege Lord behold thy poore handmaid.

Here [went to the king] and [said to the king] be but one clause
iterated with words of sundrie supply. Or as in these verses following.
  My Ladie gaue me, my Lady wist not what,
  Geuing me leaue to be her Soueraine:
  For by such gift my Ladie hath done that,
  Which whilest she liues she may not call againe.

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

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

  [Sidenote: Aposiopesis, or the Figure of silence.]
If we doo interrupt our speech for feare, this may be an example, where as
one durst not make the true report as it was, but staid halfe way for
feare of offence, thus:
  He said you were, I dare not tell you plaine
  For words once out, neuer returne againe.

If it be for shame, or that the speaker suppose it would be indecent to tell all, then thus: as he that said to his sweete hart, whom he checked for secretly whispering with a suspected person. And did ye not come by his chamber dore? And tell him that: goe to, I say no more.

If it be for anger or by way of manace or to show a moderation of wrath as
the graue and discreeter sort of men do, then thus.
  If I take you with such another cast
  I sweare by God, but let this be the last.

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

If it be for none of all these causes but vpon some sodaine occasion that
moues a man to breake of his tale, then thus.
  He told me all at large: lo yonder is the man
  Let himselfe tell the tale that best tell can.

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

  [Sidenote: Prolepsis, or the Propounder.]
Ye haue yet another maner of speach purporting at the first blush a defect
which afterward is supplied the, Greekes call him Prolepsis, we the
Propounder, or the Explaner which ye will: because he workes both
effectes, as thus, where in certaine verses we describe the triumphant
enter-view of two great Princesses thus.
  These two great Queenes, came marching hand in hand,
  Vunto the hall, where store of Princes stand:
  And people of all countreys to behold,
  Coronis all clad, in purple cloth of gold:
  Celiar in robes, of siluer tissew white
  With rich rubies, and pearles all bedighte.

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

By this other example it appeares also.
  Then deare Lady I pray you let it bee,
  That our long loue may lead us to agree:
  Me since I may not wed you to my wife,
  To serue you as a mistresse all my life:
  Ye that may not me for your husband haue,
  To clayme me for your seruant and your slaue.

Of your figures Auricular working by disorder.

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

[Sidenote: Parenthesis, or the Insertour] Your first figure of tollerable disorder is [Parenthesis] or by an English name the [Insertour] and is when ye will seeme for larger information or some other purpose, to peece or graffe in the middest of your tale an vnnecessary parcell of speach, which neuerthelesse may be thence without any detriment to the rest. The figure is so common that it needeth none example, neuerthelesse because we are to teache Ladies and Gentlewomen to know their schoole points and termes appertaining to the Art, we may not refuse ro yeeld examples euen in the plainest cases, as that of maister Diars very aptly. But now my Deere (for so my loue makes me to call you still) That loue I say, that lucklesse loue, that works me all this ill.

Also in our Eglogue intituled Elpine, which we made being but eightene yeares old, to king Edward the sixt a Prince of great hope, we surmised that the Pilot of a ship answering the King, being inquisitiue and desirous to know all the parts of the ship and tackle, what they were, & to what vse they serued, vsing this insertion or Parenthesis. Soueraigne Lord (for why a greater name To one on earth no mortall tongue can frame No statelie stile can giue the practisd penne: To one on earth conuersant among men.)

And so proceedes to answere the kings question? The shippe thou seest sayling in sea so large, &c.

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

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

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

Whereas he should haue said by good order.
  When we were come ashore and clymed had the cliffs

For one must be on land ere he can clime. And as another said:
  My dame that bred me up and bare me in her wombe.

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

Of your figures Auricular that worke by Surplusage.

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

Of auricular figures working by exchange.

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

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

A certaine piteous louer, to moue his mistres to compassion, wrote among other amorous verses, this one. Madame, I set your eyes before mine woes.

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

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

The yeoman thinking it good manner to soothe his Sergeant, said againe, I meant what I wot Sir, your best is to hie, And carrie a knaue with you for companie.

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

Of some other figures which because they serue chiefly to make the meeters tunable and melodious, and affect not the minde but very little, be placed among the auricular.

[Sidenote: Omoioteleton, or the Like loose.] The Greekes vsed a manner of speech or writing in their proses, that went by clauses, finishing in words of like tune, and might be by vsing like cases, tenses, and other points of consonance, which they called Omoioteleton, and is that wherin they neerest approched to our vulgar ryme, and may thus be expressed. Weeping creeping beseeching I wan, The loue at length of Lady Lucian.

Or thus if we speake in prose and not in meetre.
  Mischaunces ought not to be lamented,
  But rather by wisedome in time preuented:
  For such mishappes as be remedilesse,
  To sorrow them it is but foolishnesse:
  Yet are we all so frayle of nature,
  As to be greeued with euery displeasure.

The craking Scotts as the Cronicle reportes at a certaine time made this
bald rime vpon the English-men.
  Long beards hartlesse,
  Painted hoodes witlesse:
  Gay coates gracelesse,
  Make all England thriftlesse.

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

  [Sidenote: Parimion, or the Figure of like letter.]
Ye do by another figure notably affect th'eare when ye make euery word of
the verse to begin with a like letter, as for example in this verse
written in an Epithaphe of our making.
  Time tried his truth his trauailes and his trust,
  And time to late tried his integritie.

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

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

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

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

The Prince of Orenge for his deuise of Armes in banner displayed against the Duke of Adua and the Spaniards in the Low-countrey vsed the like maner of speach. Pro Rege, pro lege, pro grege, For the king, for the commons, for the countrey lawes.

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

  [Sidenote: Polisindeton, or the Couple clause.]
Quite contrary to this ye haue another maner of construction which they
called [Polisindeton] we may call him the [couple clause] for that
euery clause is knit and coupled together with a coniunctiue thus,
  And I saw it, and I say it and I
  Will sweare it to be true.

So might the Poesie of Caesar haue bene altered thus.
  I came, and I saw, and I ouercame.

One wrote these verses after the same sort,
  For in her mynde no thought there is,
  But how she may be true to is:
  And tenders thee and all thy heale,
  And wisheth both thy health and weale:
  And is thine owne, and so she sayes,
  And cares for thee ten thousand wayes.

  [Sidenote: Irmus, or the Long loose.]
Ye haue another maner of speach drawen out at length and going all after
one tenure and with an imperfit sence till you come to the last word or
verse which concludes the whole premisses with a perfit sence & full
periode, the Greeks call it [Irmus,] I call him the [long loose] thus
appearing in a dittie of Sir Thomas Wyat where he describes the diuers
distempers of his bed.
  The restlesse state renuer of my smart,
  The labours salue increasing my sorrow:
  The bodies ease and troubles of my hart,
  Quietour of mynde mine unquiet foe:
  Forgetter of paine remembrer of my woe,
  The place of sleepe wherein I do but wake:
  Besprent with teares my bed I thee forsake.

Ye see here how ye can gather no perfection of sence in all this dittie
till ye come to the last verse in these wordes my bed I thee forsake.
And in another Sonet of Petrarcha which was thus Englished by the same
Sir Thomas Wyat.
  If weaker care of sodaine pale collour,
  If many sighes with little speach to plaine:
  Now ioy now woe, if they my ioyes distaine,
  For hope of small, if much to feare therefore,
  Be signe of loue then do I loue againe.

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

  [Sidenote: Epitheton, or the Qualifier.]
When ye will speake giuing euery person or thing besides his proper name a
qualitie by way of addition whether it be of good or of bad it is a
figuratiue speach of audible alteration, so is it also of sence as to say.
  Fierce Achilles, wise Nestor, wilie Vlysses,
  Diana the chast and thou louely Venus:
  With thy blind boy that almost neuer misses,
  But hits our hartes when he levels at vs.

Or thus commending the Isle of great Brittaine.
  Albion hugest of Westerne Ilands all,
  Soyle of sweete ayre and of good store:
  God send we see thy glory neuer fall,
  But rather dayly to grow more and more.

Or as we sang of our Soueraigne Lady giuing her these Attributes besides
her proper name.
  Elizatbeth regent of the great Brittaine Ile,
  Honour of all regents and of Queenes.

But if we speake thus not expressing her proper name Elizabeth, videl.
  The English Diana, the great Britton mayde.

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

[Sidenote: Endiadis, or the Figure of Twinnes.] Ye haue yet another manner of speach when ye will seeme to make two of one, not thereunto constrained, which therefore we call the figure of Twynnes, the Greekes Endiadis thus. Not you coy dame your lowrs nor your lookes.

For [your lowring lookes] And as one of our ordinary rimers said,
  Of fortune nor her frowning face,
  I am nothing agast.

In stead of [fortunes frowning face.] One praysing the Neapolitans for
good men at armes, said by the figure of Twynnes thus.
  A proud people and wise and valiant,
  Fiercely fighting with horses and with barbes:
  By whole prowes the Romain Prince did daunt,
  Wild Affricanes and the lawlesse Alarbes:
  The Nubiens marching with their armed cartes,
  And sleaing a farre with venim, and with dartes.

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

Of the figures which we call Sensable, because they alter and affect the minde by alteration of sence, and first in single wordes.

The eare hauing receiued his due satisfaction by the auricular figures, now must the minde also be seured, with his naturall delight by figures sensible such as by alteration of intendments affect the courage, and geue a good liking to the conceit. And first, single words haue their sence and vnderstanding altered and figured many wayes, to wit, by transport, abuse, crosse-naming, new naming, change of name. This will seeme very darke to you, vnlesse it be otherwise explaned more particularly: and first of Transport.

[Sidenote: Metaphora, or the Figure of transporte.] There is a kinde of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so naturall, but yet of some affinitie or conueniencie with it, as to say, I cannot digest your vnkinde words, for I cannot take them in good part: or as the man of law said, I feele you not, for I vnderstand not your case, because he had not his fee in his hand. Or as another said to a mouthy Aduocate, why barkest thou at me so sore? Or to call the top of a tree, or of a hill, the crowne of a tree or of a hill: for in deede crowne is the highest ornament of a Princes head, made like a close garland, or els the top of a mans head, where the haire windes about, and because such terme is not applyed naturally to a tree or to a hill, but is transported from a mans head to a hill or tree, therefore it is called by metaphore, or the figure of transport. And three causes moue vs to vse this figure, one for necessitie or want of a better word, thus: As the drie ground that thirstes after a showr Seems to reioyce when it is well wet, And speedely brings foorth both grasse and flowr, If lacke of sunne or season doo not let.

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

Againe, we vse it for pleasure and ornament of our speach, as thus in an
Epitaph of our owne making, to the honourable memorie of a deere friend,
Sir Iohn Throgmorton, knight, Iustice of Chester, and a man of many
commendable vertues.
  _Whom vertue rerde, enuy hath ouerthrowen
  And Iudged full low, vnder this marble stone:
  Ne neuer were his values so well knowen,
  Whilest he liued here, as now that he is gone.

Here these words, rered, overthrowen, and lodged, are inuerted, &
metaphorically applyed, not vpon necessitie, but for ornament onely,
afterward againe in these verses.
  No sunne by day that euer saw him rest
  Free from the toyles of his so busie charge,
  No night that harbourd rankor in his breast,
  Nor merry moode made reason runne at large.

In these verses the inuersion or metaphore, lyeth in these words, saw, harbourd, run: which naturally are applyed to liuing things, & not to insensible: as the sunne, or the night: & yet they approach so neere, & so conueniently, as the speech is thereby made more commendable. Againe, in moe verses of the same Epitaph, thus. His head a source of grauitie and sence, His memory a shop of ciuill arte, His tongue a streame of sugred eloquence, Wisdome and meekenes lay mingled in his harte,

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

Then also do we it sometimes to enforce a sence and make the word more
significatiue: as thus,
  I burne in loue, I freese in deadly hate
  I swimme in hope, and sinke in deepe dispaire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Metalepsis, or the Farreset.] But the sence is much altered & the hearers conceit strangly entangled by the figure Metalepsis, which I call the farset, as when we had rather fetch a word a great way off then to vse one nerer hand to expresse the matter aswel & plainer. And it seemeth the deuiser of this figure had a desire to please women rather then men: for we vse to say by manner of Prouerbe: things farreset and deare bought are good for Ladies: so in this manner of speach we vfe it, leaping ouer the heads of a great many words, we take one that is furdest off, to vtter our matter by: as Medea cursing hir first acquaintance with prince Iason, who had very vnkindly forsaken her, said: Woe worth the mountaine that the maste bare Which was the first causer of all my care.

Where she might aswell haue said, woe worth our first meeting, or woe worth the time that Iason arriued with his ship at my fathers cittie in Colchos, when he tooke me away with him, & not so farre off as to curse the mountaine that bare the pinetree, that made the mast, that bare the sailes, that the ship sailed with, which caried her away. A pleasant Gentleman came into a Ladies nursery, and saw her for her owne pleasure rocking of her young child in the cradle, and sayd to her: I speake it Madame without any mocke, Many a such cradell may I see you rocke.

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

Thus in English.
  After many a stubble shall I come
  And wonder at the sight of my kingdome.

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

[Sidenote: Emphasis, or the Renforcer.] And one notable meane to affect the minde, is to inforce the sence of any thing by a word of more than ordinary efficacie, and neuertheles is not apparant, but as it were, secretly implyed, as he that laid thus of a faire Lady. O rare beautie, ô grace, and curtesie.

And by a very euill man thus. O sinne it selfe, not wretch, but wretchednes.

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

[Sidenote: Liptote, or the Moderatour.] As by the former figure we vse to enforce our sence, so by another we temper our sence with wordes of such moderation, as in appearaunce it abateth it but not in deede, and is by the figure Liptote, which therefore I call the Moderator, and becomes us many times better to speake in that sort quallified, than if we spake it by more forcible termes, and neuertheles is equipolent in sence, thus. I know you hate me not, nor wish me any ill.

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

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

  [Sidenote: Meiosis, or the Disabler.]
But if you diminish and abbase a thing by way of spight or malice, as it
were to depraue it, such speach is by the figure Meiosis or the
disabler spoken of hereafter in the place of sententious figures.
  A great mountaine as bigge as a molehill,
  A heauy burthen perdy, as a pound of fethers.

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

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

Of sensable figures altering and affecting the mynde by alteration of sense or intendements in whole clauses or speaches.

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

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

To whom she answered in allegorie other two verses: My louing Lorde I will well that ye wist, The thred is spon, that neuer shall untwist.

Meaning, that her loue was so stedfast and constant toward him as no time or occasion could alter it. Virgill in his shepeherdly poemes called Eglogues vsed as rusticall but fit allegorie for the purpose thus: Claudite iam riuos pueri sat prata biberunt.

Which I English thus: Stop up your streames (my lads) the medes haue drunk ther fill.

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

Ye haue another manner of Allegorie not full, but mixt, as he that wrate
thus:
  The cloudes of care haue coured all my coste,
  The stormes of strife, do threaten to appeare:
  The waues of woe, wherein my ship is toste.
  Haue broke the banks, where lay my life so deere.
  Chippes of ill chance, are fallen amidst my choise,
  To marre the minde that ment for to reioyce.

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

  [Sidenote: Enigma, or the Riddle.]
We dissemble againe vnder couert and darkes speaches, when we speake by
way of riddle (Enigma) of which the sence can hardly be picked out, but
by the parties owne assoile, as he that said:
  It is my mother well I wot,
  And yet the daughter that I begot.

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

My mother had an old woman in her nurserie, who in the winter nights would
put vs forth many prety ridles, whereof this is one:
  I haue a thing and rough it is
  And in the midst a hole I wis:
  There came a yong man with his ginne,
  And he put it a handfull in.

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

  [Sidenote: Parimia, or Prouerb.]
We dissemble after a sort, when we speake by comon prouerbs, or, as we vse
to call them, old said sawes, as thus:
  As the olde cocke crowes so doeth the chick:
  A bad Cooke that cannot his owne fingers lick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And as a certaine noble Gentlewoman lamenting at the vnkindnesse of her
louer said very pretily in this figure.
  But since it will no better be,
  My teares shall neuer blin:
  To moist the earth in such degree,
  That I may drowne therein:
  That by my death all men may say,
  Lo weemen are as true as they.

  [Sidenote: Periphrasis, or the Figure of ambage.]
Then haue ye the figure Periphrasis, holding somewhat of the disembler,
by reason of a secret intent not appearing by the words, as when we go
about the bush, and will not in one or a few words expresse that thing
which we desire to haue knowen, but do chose rather to do it by many
words, as we our selues wrote of our Soueraigne Lady thus:
  Whom Princes serue, and Realmes obay,
  And greatest of Bryton kings begot:
  She came abroade euen yesterday,
  When such as saw her, knew her not.

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

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

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

The Noble Earle of Surrey wrote thus: In winters iust returne, when Boreas gan his raigne, And euery tree vnclothed him fast as nature taught them plaine.

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

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

Of Figures sententious, otherwise called Rhetoricall.

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

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

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

  [Sidenote: Anaphora, or the Figure of Report.]
Repetition in the first degree we call the figure of Report according to
the Greeke originall, and is when we make one word begin, and as they are
wont to say, lead the daunce to many verses in sute, as thus.
  To thinke on death it is a miserie
  To thinke on life it is a vanitie:
  To thinke on the world verily it is,
  To thinke that heare man hath no perfit blisse.

And this written by Sir Walter Raleigh of his greatest mistresse iin
most excellent verses.
  In vayne mine eyes in vaine you wast your teares,
  In vayne my sighs the smokes of my despaires:
  In vayne you search th'earth and heauens aboue,
  In vayne ye seeke, for fortune keeps my loue.

Or as the buffon in our enterlude called Lustie London said very
knauishly and like himselfe.
  Many a faire lasse in London towne,
  Many a bawdie basket borne up and downe:
  Many a broker in a thridbare gowne.
  Many a bankrowte scarce worth a crowne.
      In London.

  [Sidenote: Antistrophe, or the Counter turne.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition quite contrary to the former when ye
make one word finish many verses in sute, and that which is harder, to
finish many clauses in the middest of your verses or dittie (for to make
them finish the verse in our vulgar it should hinder the rime) and because
I do finde few of our English makers vse this figure, I haue set you down
two litle ditties which our selues in our yonger yeares played vpon the
Antistrophe, for so is the figures name in Greeke: one vpon the mutable
loue of a Lady, another vpon the meritorious loue of Christ our Sauiour,
thus.
  Her lowly lookes, that gaue life to my loue,
  With spitefull speach, curstnesse and crueltie:
  She kild my loue, let her rigour remoue,
  Her cherefull lights and speaches of pitie
  Reuiue my loue: anone with great disdaine,
  She shunnes my loue, and after by a traine
  She seekes my loue, and faith she loues me most,
  But seing her loue, so lightly wonne and lost:
  I longd not for her loue, for well I thought,
  Firme is the loue, if it be as it ought.

The second vpon the merites of Christes passion toward mankind, thus,
  Our Christ the sonne of God, chief authour of all good,
  Was he by his allmight, that first created man:
  And with the costly price, of his most precious bloud,
  He that redeemed man: and by his instance wan
  Grace in the sight of God, his onely father deare,
  And reconciled man: and to make man his peere
  Made himselfe very man: brief to conclude the case,
  This Christ both God and man, he all and onely is:
  The man brings man to God and to all heauens blisse.

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

  [Sidenote: Symploche, or the figure of replie.]
Take me the two former figures and put them into one, and it is that which
the Greekes call symploche, the Latines complexio, or conduplicatio,
and is a maner of repetion, when one and the selfe word doth begin and end
many verses in sute & so wrappes vp both the former figures in one, as he
that sportingly complained of his vntrustie mistresse, thus.
  _Who made me shent for her loues sake?
      Myne owne mistresse.
  Who would not seeme my part to take,
      Myne owne mistresse.

  What made me first so well content
      Her curtesie.
  What makes me now so sore repent
      Her crueltie._

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

  [Sidenote: Anadiplosis, or the Redouble.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition when with the worde by which you finish
your verse, ye beginne the next verse with the same, as thus:
  Comforte it is for man to haue a wife,
  Wife chast, and wise, and lowly all her life.

Or thus:
  Your beutie was the cause of my first loue,
  Looue while I liue, that I may sore repent.

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

  [Sidenote: Epanalepsis, or the Eccho sound,
             otherwise, the slow return.]
Ye haue an other sorte of repetition, when ye make one worde both beginne
and end your verse, which therefore I call the slow retourne, otherwise
the Eccho sound, as thus:
  Much must he be beloued, that loueth much,
  Feare many must he needs, whom many feare.

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

  [Sidenote: Epizeuxis, or the Vnderlay, or Coocko-spel.]
Ye haue another sort of repetition when in one verse or clause of a verse,
ye iterate one word without any intermission, as thus:
  It was Maryne, Maryne that wrought mine woe.

And this bemoaning the departure of a deere friend.
  The chiefest staffe of mine assured stay,
  With no small griefe, is gon, is gon away.

And that of Sir Walter Raleighs very sweet.
  With wisdomes eyes had but blind fortune seene,
  Than had my looue, my looue for euer beene.

The Greeks call him Epizeuxis, the Latines Subiunctio, we may call him the vnderlay, me thinks if we regard his manner of iteration, & would depart from the originall, we might very properly, in our vulgar and for pleasure call him the cuckowspell, for right as the cuckow repeats his lay, which is but one manner of note, and doth not insert any other tune betwixt, and sometimes for hast stammers out two or three of them one immediatly after another, as cuck, cuck, cuckow, so doth the figure Epizeuxis the former verses, Maryne, Maryne, without any intermission at all.

[Sidenote: Ploche, or the Doubler.] Yet haue ye one sorte of repetition, which we call the doubler, and is as the next before, a speedie iteration of one word, but with some little intermission by inserting one or two words betweene, as in a most excellent dittie written by Sir Walter Raleigh these two closing verses: Yet when I sawe my selfe to you was true, I loued my selfe, bycause my selfe loued you.

And this spoken in common Prouerbe.
  An ape wilbe an ape, by kinde as they say,
  Though that ye clad him all in purple array.

Or as we once sported vpon a fellowes name who was called Woodcock, and
for an ill part he had plaid entreated fauour by his friend.
  I praie you intreate no more for the man,
  Woodcocke wilbe a woodcocke do what ye can.

Now also be there many other sortes of repetition if a man would vse them, but are nothing commendable, and therefore are not obserued in good poesie, as a vulgar rimer who doubled one word in the end of euery verse, thus: adieu, adieu my face, my face.

And an other that did the like in the beginning of his verse, thus: To loue him and loue him, as sinners should doo.

These repetitions be not figuratiue but phantastical, for a figure is euer vsed to a purpose, either of beautie or of efficacie: and these last recited be to no purpose, for neither can ye say that it vrges affection, nor that it beautifieth or enforceth the sence, nor hath any other subtilitie in it, and therfore is a very foolish impertinency of speech, and not a figure.

[Sidenote: Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer.] Ye haue a figure by which ye play with a couple of words or names much resembling, and because the one seemes to answere th'other by manner of illusion, and doth, as it were, nick him, I call him the Nicknamer. If any other man can geue him a fitter English name, I will not be angrie, but I am sure mine is very neere the origninall sense of the Prosonomasia, and is rather a by-name geuen in sport, than a surname geuen of any earnest purpose. As, Tiberius the Emperor, because he was a great drinker of wine, they called him by way of derision to his owne name Caldius Biberius Mero, in steade of Claudius Tiberius Nero: and so a iesting frier that wrate against Erasmus, called him by resemblance to his own Errans mus, and are mainteined by this figure Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer. But euery name geuen in iest or by way of a surname, if it do not resemble the true, is not by this figure, as, the Emperor of Greece, who was surnamed Constantinus Cepronimus, because he beshit the foont at the time he was christened: and so ye may see the difference betwixt the figures Antonomasia & Prosonomatia. Now when such resemblance happens betweene words of another nature and not vpon mens names, yet doeth the Poet or maker finde prety sport to play with them in his verse, specially the Comicall Poet and the Epigrammatist. Sir Philip Sidney in a dittie plaide very pretily with these two words, Loue and liue, thus. And all my life I will confesse, The lesse I loue, I liue the lesse.

And we in our Enterlude called the woer, plaid with these two words, lubber and louer, thus, the countrey clowne came & woed a young maide of the Citie, and being agreeued to come so oft, and not to haue his answere, said to the old nurse very impatiently. [Sidenote: Woer.] Iche pray you good mother tell our young dame, Whence I am come and what is my name, I cannot come a woing euery day.

Quoth the nurse. [Sidenote: Nurse.] They be lubbers not louers that so use to say.

Or as one replyed to his mistresse charging him with some disloyaltie
towards her.
  Proue me madame ere ye fall to reproue,
  Meeke mindes should rather excuse than accuse.

Here the words proue and reproue, excuse and accuse, do pleasantly encounter, and (as it were) mock one another by their much resemblance: and this is by the figure Prosonomatia, as wel as if they were mens proper names, alluding to each other.

  [Sidenote Traductio, or the tranlacer.]
Then haue ye a figure which the Latines call Traductio, and I the
tranlacer: which is when ye turne and tranlace a word into many sundry
shapes as the Tailor doth his garment, & after that sort do play with him
in your dittie: as thus,
  Who liues in loue his life is full of feares,
  To lose his loue, liuelode or libertie
  But liuely sprites that young and recklesse be,
  Thinke that there is no liuing like to theirs.

Or as one who much gloried in his owne wit, whom Persius taxed in a verse very pithily and pleasantly, thus. Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scire, hoc sciat alter.

Which I haue turned into English, not so briefly, but more at large of
purpose the better to declare the nature of the figure: as thus,
  Thou weenest thy wit nought worth if other weet it not
  As wel as thou thy selfe, but a thing well I wot,
  Who so in earnest weenes, he doth in mine aduise,
  Shew himselfe witlesse, or more wittie than wise.

Here ye see how in the former rime this word life is tranlaced into liue, liuing, liuely, liuelode: & in the latter rime this word wit is translated into weete, weene, wotte, witlesse, witty & wise: which come all from one originall.

  [Sidenote: Antipophora, or Figure of responce.]
Ye haue a figuratiue speach which the Greeks cal Antipophora, I name him
the Responce, and is when we will seeme to aske a question to th'intent
we will aunswere it our selues, and is a figure of argument and also of
amplification. Of argument, because proponing such matter as our
aduersarie might obiect and then to answere it our selues, we do vnfurnish
and preuent him of such helpe as he would otherwise haue vsed for
himselfe: then because such obiection and answere spend much language it
serues as well to amplifie and enlarge our tale. Thus for example.
  Wylie worldling come tell me I thee pray,
  Wherein hopest thou, that makes thee so to swell?
  Riches? alack it taries not a day,
  But where fortune the fickle list to dwell:
  In thy children? how hardlie shalt thou finde,
  Them all at once, good and thriftie and kinde:
  Thy wife? o' faire but fraile mettall to trust,
  Seruants? what theeues? what threachours and iniust?
  Honour perchance? it restes in other men:
  Glorie? a smoake: but wherein hopest thou then?
  In Gods iustice? and by what merite tell?
  In his mercy? o' now thou speakest wel,
  But thy lewd life hath lost his loue and grace,
  Daunting all hope to put dispaire in place.

We read that Crates the Philosopher Cinicke in respect of the manifold
discommodities of mans life, held opinion that it was best for man neuer
to haue bene borne or soone after to dye, [Optimum non nasci vel citò
mori] of whom certaine verses are left written in Greeke which I haue
Englished, thus.
  What life is the liefest? the needy is full of woe and awe,
  The wealthie full of brawle and brabbles of the law:
  To be a married man? how much art thou beguild,
  Seeking thy rest by carke, for houshold wife and child:
  To till it is a toyle, to grase some honest gaine,
  But such as gotten is with great hazard and paine:
  The sayler of his shippe, the marchant of his ware,
  The souldier in armes, how full of dread and care?
  A shrewd wife brings thee bate, wiue not and neuer thriue,
  Children a charge, childlesse the greatest lacke aliue:
  Youth witlesse is and fraile, age sicklie and forlorne,
  Then better to dye soone, or neuer to be borne.

Metrodorus the Philosopher Stoick was of a contrary opinion, reuersing
all the former suppositions against Crates, thus.
  What life list ye to lead? in good Citie and towne
  Is wonne both wit and wealth, Court gets vs great renowne,
  Countrey keepes vs in heale, and quietnesse of mynd,
  Where holesome aires and exercise and pretie sports we find:
  Traffick it turnes to gaine, by land and eke by seas,
  The land-borned liues safe, the forriene at his ease:
  Housholder hath his home, the roge romes with delight,
  And makes moe merry meales, then dothe the Lordly wight:
  Wed and thost hast a bed, of solace and of ioy,
  Wed not and haue a bed, of rest without annoy:
  The setled loue is safe, sweete is the loue at large,
  Children they are a store, no children are no charge,
  Lustie and gay is youth, old age honourd and wise:
  Then not to dye or be unborne, is best in myne aduise.

Edward Earle of Oxford a most noble & learned Gentleman made in this
figure of responce an emble of desire otherwise called Cupide which for
his excellencie and wit, I set downe some part of the verses, for example.
  When wert thou borne desire?
  In pompe and pryme of May,
  By whome sweete boy wert thou begot?
  By good conceit men say,
  Tell me who was they nurse?
  Fresh youth in sugred ioy.
  What was thy meate and dayly foode?
  Sad sighes with great annoy.
  What hast thou then to drinke?
  Vnfayned louers teares.
  What cradle wert thou rocked in?
  In hope deuoyde of feares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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