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Of Figures sententious, otherwise called Rhetoricall.
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3.19. Of Figures sententious, otherwise called Rhetoricall.

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


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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 rhetoricall, besides their remembred 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 less liberally, and carrying or transporting 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


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with large loade of speech, than the limmes are with heauie burden. Sweetenes of speech, sentence, and amplification, are therfore necessarie to an excellent Orator and Poet, ne may in no wise be spared from any of them.

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

Repetition in the first degree we call the figure of Report according to the Greeke originall, 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 in 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 third bare gowne.
Many a bankrowte scarce worth a crowne.
In London.

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 to two litle ditties which our selues in our yonger yeares played vpon the Antistrophe, for so


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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, curtnesse 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 shinnes my loue, and after by a traine
She seekes my loue, and saith 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.

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 repetition, when one and the selfe word doth begin and end many verses in sute & so wrappes vp both the former figures in one, as he that sportingly complained of his vntrustie mistresse, thus.

Who made me shent for her loues sake?
Myne owne mistresse.
Who would not seeme my part to take,
Myne owne mistresse.

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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.

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.

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.

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 underlay, me thinks if we regard his manner of iteration, & would depart from the originall, we might very properly,


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in our vulgar and for pleasure call him the cuckowspell, for right as the cuckow repeats his lay, which is but one manner of note, and doth not insert any other tune betwixt, and sometimes for hast stammers out two or three of them one immediatly after another, as cuck, cuck, cuckow, so doth the figure Epizeuxis in the former verses, Maryne, Maryne, without any intermission at all.

Ye haue 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 subtiltie in it, and therfore is a very foolish impertinency of speech, and not a figure.

Ye haue a figure by which ye play with a couple of words or names much resembling, and because the one seemes to answere


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th'other by maner of illusion, and doth, as it were, nick him, I call him the Nicknamer. If any other man can geue him a fitter English name, I will not be angrie, but I am sure mine is very neere the originall sence of Prosonomasia, and is rather a by-name geuen in sport, that a surname geuen of any earnest purpose. As, Tiberius the Emperor, because he was a great drinker of wine, they called him by way of derision to his owne name, Caldius Biberius Mero, in steade of Claudius Tiberius Nero: and so a iesting frier that wrate against Erasmus, called him by resemblance to his own name Errans mus, and are mainteined by this figure Prosonomasia, or the Nicknamer. But euery name geuen in iest or by way of a surname, if it do not resemble the true, is not by this figure, as the Emperor of Greece, who was surnamed Constantius Copronimus, 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 live, 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.

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.

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


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

Then haue ye a figure which the Latines call Traductio, and I the tranlacer: 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 spirites 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 taxes 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 o 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 time this word wit is translated into weete, weene, wotte, witlesse, witty & wise: which come all from one originall.

Ye haue a figuratiue speach which the Greeks cal Antipophora, I name him the Responce, and is when we will seeme to aske a question to th'intent w 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 hopes thou, that makes thee so to swell?
Riches? alack it taries not a day,

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But where fortune the sickle list to dwell:
In thy children? how hardlie shalt thou finde,
Them all at once, good and thriftie and kinde:
Thy wife? ò faire but fraile mettall to trust,
Seruants? what the cues? what treachours 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? ò now thou speakest wel,
But thy lewd life hath lost his loue and grace,
Daunting all hope to pur dispaire in place.

We read that Crates the Philosopher Cinicke in respect of the manifold discommodities of mans life, held opinion that is was best for man neuer to haue bene borne or soone after to dye, [Optimum non nasci vel cito 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 maried 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 us great renowne:
Countrey keepes us 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-borne liues safe, the forreine at his ease:
Housholder hath his home, the roge romes with delight,

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And makes moe merry meales, then doth the Lordly wight:
Wed and thou 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 whom sweete boy wert thou begot?
By good conceit men say,
Tell me who was thy nurse?
Fresh youth in sugred ioy.
What was thy meate and dayly foode?
Sad sighes with great annoy.
What hadst thou then to drinke?
Vnfayned louers teares.
What cradle wert thou rocked in?
In hope deuoyde of feares.

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 use 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 loure complaining of his mistresse crueltie these verses among other.

Thus for your sake I dayly dye,

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And do but seeme to liue in deede:
Thus is my blisse but miserie,
My lucre losse without your meede.

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 upon 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.

Ye haue a figure which as well by his Greeke and Latine originals, & also by allusion to the maner of a mans gate or going may be called the marching figure, for after the first steppe all the rest proceede by double the space, and so in our speach one word proceedes double to the first that was spoken, and goeth as it were by strides or paces: it may aswell be called the clyming figure, for Climax is as much to say as a ladder, as in one of our Epitaphes shewing how a very meane man by his wisedome and good fortune came to great estate and dignitie.

His vertue made him wise, his wisedome brought him wealth,
His wealth wan 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 seate so hye.

Or as Ihean de Mehune the French Poet.

Peace makes plentie, plentie makes pride,
Pride breeds quarrell, and quarrell brings warre:

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Warre brings spoile, and spoile pouertie,
Pouertie pacience, and pacience peace:
So peace brings warre, and warre brings peace.

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 them whilest 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 unhonestly and ill,
The pleasure passeth, the bad it bideth still:
Well if we worke with trauaile and with paines,
The paine passethe 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 spoken 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 an wittiest in any euill scoffe, misliking greatly the engrossing of offices in Rome that one man should haue many at once, and a great number goe without that were as able men, said thus by Counterchaunge.

It seemes your offices are very litle worth,
Or very few of your worthy of offices.

Againe:


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

Ye haue another figure much like to the Sarcasmus, or bitter taunt wee spake of before: and is when with proud and insolent words, we do vpbraid a man, or ride him as we terme it: for which cause the Latines also call it Insultatio, I choose to name him the Reprochfull or scorner, as when Queene Dido saw, that for all her great loue an entertainements bestowed vpon Aeneas, he would needs depart, and follow the Oracle of his destines, she brake out in a great rage and said very 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 Iuenall reproched 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.

Ye haue another figure very pleasant 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 a 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 at my welfare:
Who onely bred your blisse, and neuer causd your care.

Or as it is in these 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 howre.

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Maister Diar in this quarrelling 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.

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

There is a kinde of figuratiue speach when we aske many questions and looke for none answere, speaking indeed by interrogation, which we might as well say by affirmation. This figure I call the Questioner or inquisitiue, as whan Medea excusing her great crueltie vsed in the murder of her owne children which she had by Iason, sais:

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 striue I with the streame, or hoppe against the hill,
Or 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 employed in any such businesse, said by way of skoffe in this figure.


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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?

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 euermare.

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 fume,
Fie sickle 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 slake the knot
But straite it to my paine.

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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.

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, falshed, 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.

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 heauy lode,
Conscience a curst iudge, remorse a priuie goade.
Disease, age and death still in our care 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.


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When so euer we multiply our speech by many words or clauses of one sence, the Greekes call it Sinonimia, as who would say, like or consenting names: the Latines hauing no fitte terme to giue him, called it by a name of euent, for (said they) many words of one nature and sence, one of them doth expound another. And therefore they called this figure the [Interpreter] I for my part had rather call him the figure of [store] because plenty of one manner of thing in our vulgar we call so. Aeneas asking whether his Captaine Orontes were dead or aliue, vsed this store of speeches all to one purpose.

Is he aliue,
Is he as 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 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.

Otherwhiles we speak and be sorry for it, as if we had not wel spoken, so that we seeme to call in our word againe, and to pur 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


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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 feaze 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.

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

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 faine 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 armes, said thus:


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Many are the paines and perils to be past,
But great is the gaine and glory at the last.

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 with a ioyfull approbation, which the Latines call Acclamatio, we therefore call this figure the surcloze or consenting close, as Virgill when he had largely spoken of Prince Eneas his successe and fortunes concluded with this close.

Tantae molis erat Romanum condere gentem.

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.

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 goodnesse, made her ill willers the more bold and presumptuous.

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

Tantum relligio potuit suadere malorum.

In English thus:


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Lo what an outrage, could cause to be done,
The peeuish scruple of blinde religion.

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

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

If by the lawes of loue 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 despite in view of euery eye,
The solemne vowes oft sworne with teares so salt,
And holy Leagues fast scald 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 good will,
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 (ò cruell) but to use,
Thy murdring knife the guiltlesse bloud to spill.

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

They say it is a ruth to see thy louer neede,

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But you can see me weepe, but you can see me bleede:
And neuer shrinke nor shame, ne shed no teare at all,
You make my wounds your selfe, and fill them up with gall:
Yea you can set me sound, and faint for want of breath,
And gaspe and grone for life, and struggle still with death,
What can you now do more, sweare by your maydenhead,
Then for to flea me quicke, or strip me being dead.

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

After the auancer followeth the abbaser working by wordes and sentences of extenuation or diminution. Whereupon we call him the Disabler of figure of Extenuation: and this extenuation is vsed to diuers purposes, sometimes for modesties sake, and to auoide the opinion of arrogancie, speaking of our selues or of ours, as he that disabled himselfe to his mistresse, thus.

Not all the skill I haue to speake or do,
Which litle is God wot (set loue apart:)
Liue load nor life, and put them both thereto,
Can counterpeise the due of your desart.

It may be also done for despite to bring our aduersaries on contempt, as he that sayd by one (commended for a very braue souldier) disabling him scornefully, thus.

A iollie man (forsooth) and fit for the warre,
Good at hand grippes, better to fight a farre:
Whom bright weapon in shew as it is said,
Yea his owne shade, hath often made afraide.

The subtiltie of the scoffe lieth in these Latine wordes [eminui & cominus pugnare.] Also we vse this king of Extenuation when we take in hand to comfort or cheare any perillous enterprise, making a great matter seeme small, and of litel difficultie, & is much vsed by captaines in the warre, when they (to giue courage to their souldiers) will seeme to disable the persons of their enemies, and abase their forces, and make light of euery thing that might be a discouragement to the attempt, as Hanniball did in his Oration to his souldiers, when they should come to passe the Alpes to enter


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Italie, and for sharpnesse of the weather, and steepnesse of the mountaines their hearts began to faile them.

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

And we vse the like termes by way of pleasant familiaritie, and as it were for a Courtly maner of speach with our egalls or inferiours, as to call a young Gentlewoman Mall for Mary, Nell for Elmer: Iack for Iohn, Robin for Robert: or any other like affected termes spoken of pleasure, as in our triumphals calling familiarly vpon our Muse, I called her Moppe.

But will you weet,
My litle msue, my prettie moppe:
If we shall algates change our stoppe,
Chose me a sweet.

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

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

This figure of retire holds part with the propounder of which we spake before (prolepsis) because of this resumption of a former proposition vttered in generalitie to explane the same better by a particular diuision. But their difference is, in that the propounder resumes but the matter only. This [retire] resumes both the matter and the termes, and is therefore accompted one of the figures of repetition, and in that respect may be called by his originall


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Greeke name the [Resounde] or the [retire] for this word [odos] serues both sences resound and retire. The vse of this figure, is seen in this dittie following.

Loue hope and death, do stirre in me much strife,
As neuer man but I lead such a life:
For burning loue doth wound my heart to death:
And when death comes at call of inward grief,
Cold lingring hope doth feede my fainting breath:
Against my will, and yeelds my wound relief,
So that I liue, but yet my life is such:
As neuer death could greeue me halfe so much.

Then haue ye a maner of speach, not so figuratiue as fit for argumentation, and worketh not vnlike the dilemma of the Logicians, because he propones two or moe matters entierly, and doth as it were set downe the whole tale or rekoning of an argument and then cleare euery part by it selfe, as thus.

It can not be but nigardship or neede,
Made him attempt this foule and wicked deede:
Nigardship not, for alwayes he was free,
Nor neede, for who doth not his richesse see?

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

Now gentill Sirs let this young maide alone,
For either she hath grace or els she hath none:
If she haue grace, she may in time repent,
If she haue none what bootes her punishment.

Or as another pleaded his deserts with his mistresse.

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

The haue ye a figure very meete for Orators or eloquent perswaders such as our maker or Poet must in some cases she whim selfe to be, and is when we may conueniently vtter a matter in one


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entier speach or proposition and will rather do it peecemeale and by distribution of euery part for amplification sake, as for example he that might say, a house was outragiously plucked downe: will not be satisfied so to say, but rather will speake it in this sort: they first vndermined the groundsills, they beate downe the walles, they vnfloored the loftes, they vntiled, it and pulled downe the roofe. For so in deede is a house pulled downe by circumstances, which this figure of distribution doth set forth euery one apart, and therefore I name him the distributor according to his originall, as wrate the Tuscane Poet in a Sonet which Sir Thomas Wyat translated with very good grace, thus.

Set me whereas the sunne doth parch the greene,
Or where his beames do not dissolue the yce:
In temperate heate where he is felt and seene,
In presence prest of people mad or wise:
Set me in hye or yet in low degree,
In longest night or in the shortest day:
In clearest skie, or where clouds thickest bee,
In lustie youth or when my heares are gray:
Set me in heauen, in earth or els in hell,
In hill or dale or in the foming flood:
Thrall or at large, aliue where so I dwell,
Sicke or in health, in euill fame or good:
Hers will I be, and onely with this thought,
Content my selfe, although my chaunce be naught.

All which might haue bene said in these two verses.

Set me wheresoeuer ye will,
I am and wilbe yours still.

The zealous Poet writing in prayse of the maiden Queene would not seeme to wrap vp all her most excellent parts in a few words them entierly comprehending, but did it by a distributor or merismus in the negatiue for the better grace, thus.

Not your bewtie, most gracious soueraine,
Nor maidenly lookes, mainteind with maiestie:
Your stately port, which doth not match but staine,
For your presence, your pallace and your traine,
All Princes Courts, mine eye could euer see:

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Not your quicke wits, your sober gouernaunce:
Your cleare forsight, your faithfull memorie,
So sweete features, in so staid countenaunce:
Nor languages, with plentuous vtterance,
So able to discourse, and entertaine:
Not noble race, farre beyond Caesars raigne,
Runne in right line, and bloud of nointed kings:
Not large empire, armies, treasurs, domaine,
Lustie liueries, of fortunes dearst darlings:
Not all the skilles, fit for a Princely dame,
Your learned Muse, with vse and studie brings.
Not true honour, ne that immortall fame
Of mayden raigne, your only owne renowne
And no Queenes els, yet such as yeeldes your name
Greater glory than doeth your treble crowne.

And then concludes thus.

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

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

Not any one of all your honord parts,
Those Princely haps and habites, &c.

This figure serues for amplification, and also for ornament, and to enforce perswasion mightely. Sir Geffrey Chaucer, father of our English Poets, hath these verses following in the distributor.

When faith failes in Priestes sawes,
And Lords hestes are holden for lawes,
And robberie is tane for purchase,

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And lechery for solace
Then shall the Realme of Albion
Be brought to great confusion.

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

When Prince for his people is wakefull and wise,
Peeres ayding with armes, Counsellors with aduise,
Magistrate sincerely using his charge,
People prest to obey, nor let to runne at large,
Prelate of holy life, and with deuotion
Preferring pietie before promotion,
Priest still preaching, and praying for our heale:
Then blessed is the state of a common-weale.

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

The Greeke Poets who made musicall ditties to be song to the lute or harpe, did vse to linke their staues together with one verse running throughout the whole song by equall distance, and was, for the most part, the first verse of the staffe, which kept so good sence and conformitie with the whole, as his often repetition did geue it greater grace. They called such linking verse Epimone, the Latines versus intercalaris, and we may terme him the Loue-burden, following the originall, or if it please you, the long repeate: in one respect because that one verse alone beareth the whole burden of the song according to the originall: in another respect, for that it comes by large distances to be often repeated, as in this ditty made by the noble knight Sir Philip Sidney,

My true loue hath my heart and I haue his,
By iust exchange one for another geuen:
I holde his deare, and mine he cannot misse,
There neuer was a better bargaine driuen.
My true loue hath my heart and I haue his.
My heart in me keepes him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and sences guides:
He loues my heart, for once it was his owne,

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I cherish his because in me it bides.
My true loue hath my heart, and I haue his.

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

I woonder much to see so many husbands thriue,
That haue but little wit, before they come to wiue:
For one would easily weene who so hath little wit,
His wife to teach it him, were a thing much vnfit.

Or as Cato the Romane Senatour said one day merily to his companion that walked with him, pointing his finger to a yong vnthrift in the streete who lately before had sold his patrimonie, of a goodly quantitie of salt marshes, lying neere vnto Capua shore.

Now is it not, a wonder to behold,
Yonder gallant skarce twenty winter old,
By might (marke ye) able to doo more?
Than the mayne sea that batters on his shore?
For what the waues could neuer wash away,
This proper youth hath wasted in a day.

Not much vnlike the wondrer haue ye another figure called the doubtfull, because oftentimes we will seeme to cast perils, and make doubt of things when by a plaine manner of speech wee might affirme or deny him, as thus of a cruell mother who murdred her owne child.

Whether the cruell mother were more to blame,
Or the shrewd childe come of so curst a dame:
Or whether some smatch of the fathers blood,
Whose kinne were neuer kinde, nor neuer good.
Mooued her thereto, &c.

This manner of speech is vsed when we will not seeme, either for manner sake or to auoid tediousnesse, to trouble the iudge or hearer with all that we coudl say, but hauing said inough already, we referre the rest to their consideration, as he that said thus:

Me thinkes that I haue said, what may well suffise,
Referring all the rest, to your better aduise.

The fine and subtill perswader when his intent is to sting his


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aduersary, or els to declare his mind in broad and liberal speeches, which might breede offence or scandall, he will seeme to bespeake pardon before hand, whereby his licentiousnes may be the better borne withall, as he that said:

If my speech hap t'offend you any way,
Thinke it their fault, that force me so to say.

Not much vnlike to the figure of reference, is there another with some little diuersitie which we call the impartener, because many times in pleading and perswading, we thinke it a very good policie to acquaint our iudge or hearer or very aduersarie with some part of our Counsell and aduice, and to aske their opinion, as who would say they could not otherwise thinke of the matter then we do. As he that had tolde a long tale before certaine noble women, of a matter somewhat in honour touching the Sex.

Tell me faire Ladies, if the case were your owne,
So foule a fault would you haue it be knowen?

Maister Gorge is this figure, said very sweetly.

All you who read these lines and skanne of my desart,
Iudge whether was more good, my hap or els my hart.

The good Orator vseth a manner of speach in his perswasion and is when all that should seeme to make against him being spoken by th'otherside, he will first admit it, and in th'end auoid all for his better aduantage, and this figure is much vsed by our English pleaders in the Starchamber and Chancery, which they call to confesse and auoid, if it be in case of crime or iniury, and is a very good way. For when the matter is so plaine that it cannot be denied or trauersed, it is good that it be iustified by confessall and auoidance. I call it the figure of admittance. As we once wrate to the reproofe of a Ladies faire but crueltie.

I know your witte, I know your pleasant tongue,
Your some sweete smiles, your some, but louely lowrs:
A beautie to enamour olde and yong.
Those chast desires, that noble minde of yours,
And that chiefe part whence all your honor springs,
A grace to entertaine the greatest kings.
All this I know: but sinne it is to see,
So faire partes spilt by too much crueltie.

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In many cases we are driuen for better perswasion to tell the cause that mooues vs to say thus or thus: or els when we would fortifie our allegations by rendring reasons to euery one, this assignation of cause the Greekes called Etiologia, which if we might without scorne of a new inuented terme call [Tellcause] it were right according to the Greeke originall: & I pray you why should we not? and with as good authoritie as the Greekes? Sir Thomas Smith, her Maiesties principall Secretary, and a man of great learning and grauitie, seeking to geue an English word to this Greeke word agamw called it Spitewed, or wedspite. Master Secretary Wilson geuing an English name to his arte of Logicke, called it Witcraft, me thinke I may be bolde with like liberty to call the figure Etiologia [Tell cause.] And this manner of speech is alwayes contemned, with these words, for, because, and such other confirmatiues. The Latines hauing no fitte name to geue it in one single word, gaue it no name at all, but by circumlocution. We also call him the reason-rendrer, and leaue the right English word [Tel cause] much better answering the Greeke originall. Aristotle was most excellent in vse of this figure, for he neuer propones any allegation, or makes any surmise, but he yeelds a reason or cause to fortifie and proue it, which geues it great credit. For example ye may take these verses, first pointing, than confirming by similitudes.

When fortune shall haue spit out all her gall,
I trust good luck shall be to me allowde,
For I haue seene a shippe in hauen fall,
After the storme had broke both maste and shrowde.

And this.

Good is the thing that moues vs to desire,
That is to ioy the beauty we behold:
Els were we louers as in an endlesse fire,
Alwaies burning and euer chill a colde.

And in these verses.

I, Accused though I be without desart,
Sith none can proue beleeue it not for triue:
For neuer yet since first ye had my hart,
Entended I to false or be vntrue.

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And in this Disticque.

And for her beauties praise, no wight that with her warres:
For where she comes she shewes her selfe like sun among the stars.

And in this other dittie of ours where the louer complaines of his Ladies crueltie, rendring for euer surmise a reason, and by telling the cause, seeketh (as it were) to get credit, thus.

Cruel you be who can say nay,
Since ye delight in others wo:
Vnwise am I, ye may well say,
For that I haue, honourd you so.
But I blamelesse I, who could not chuse,
To be enchaunted by your eye:
But ye to blame, thus to refuse
My seruice, and to let me die.

Sometimes our error is so manifest, or we be so hardly prest with our aduersaries, as we cannot deny the fault layd vnto our charge: in which case it is good pollicie to excuse it by some allowable pretext, as did one whom his mistresse burdened with some vnkinde speeches which he had past of her, thus.

I said it: but by lapse of lying tongue,
When furie and iust griefe my heart opprest:
I sayd it: as ye see, both fraile and young,
When your rigor had ranckled in my brest.
The cruell wound that smarted me so sore,
Pardon therefore (sweete sorrow) or at least
Beare with mine youth that neuer fell before,
Least your offence encrease my griefe the more.

And againe in these,

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

Speaking before of the figure [Synecdoche] wee call him


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

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

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


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things, egernesse is an appetite in base and small matters.

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

It is also very many times vsed for a good pollicie in pleading or perswasion to make wise as if we set but light of the matter, and that therefore we do passe it ouer lightly when in deede we do then intend most effectually and despightfully if it be inuectiue to remember it: It is also when we will not seeme to know a thing, and yet we know it well inough, and may be likened to the maner of women, who as the common saying is, will say nay and take it.

I hold my peace and will not say for shame,
The much vntruth of that vnciuill dame:
For if I should her coullours kindly blaze,
It would so make the chast eares amaze. &c.

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

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


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before was called the figure of aboade.

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

Occasion offers many times that our maker as an oratour, or perswader, or pleader should go roundly to worke, and by a quick and swift argument dispatch his perswasion, & as they are woont to say not to stand all day trifling to no purpose, but to rid it out of the way quickly. This is done by a manner of speech, both figuratiue and argumentatiue, when we do briefly set downe all our best reasons seruing the purpose, and reiect all of them sauing one, which we accept to satisfie the cause: as he that in a litigious case for land would prooue it not the aduersaries, but his clients.

No man can say its his by heritage,
Nor by Legacie, or Testatours deuice:
Nor that it came by purchase or engage,
Nor from his Prince for any good seruice.
Then needs must it be his by very wrong,
Which he hath offred this poore plaintife so long.

Though we might call this figure very well and properly the [Paragon] yet dare I not so to doe for feare of the Courtiers enuy, who will haue no man vse that terme but after a courtly manner, that is, in praysing of horses, haukes, hounds, pearles, diamonds, rubies, emerodes, and other precious stones: specially of faire women whose excellencie is discouered by paragonizing or setting one to


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another, which moued the zealous Poet, speaking of the mayden Queene, to call her the paragon of Queenes. This considered, I will let our figure enioy his best beknowen name, an call him stil in all ordinarie cases the figure of comparison: as when a man wil seeme to make things appeare good or bad, or better or worse, or more or lesse excellent, either vpon spite or for pleasure, or any other good affection, then he sets the lesse by the greater, or the greater to the lesse, the equall to his equall, and by such confronting of them together, driues out the true ods that is betwixt them, and makes it better appeare, as when we sang of our Soueraigne Lady thus, in the twentieth Partheniade.

As falcon fares to bussards flight,
As egles eyes to owlates sight,
As fierce saker to coward kite,
As brightest noone to darkest night:
As summer sunne exceedeth farre,
The moone and euery other starre:
So farre my Princesse praise doeth passe,
The famoust Queene that euer was.

And in the eighteene Partheniade thus.

Set rich rubie to red esmayle,
The rauens plume to peacocks tayle,
Lay me the larkes to lizard eyes,
The duskie cloude to azure skie,
Set shallow brookes to surging seas,
An orient pearle to a white pease:

&c. Concluding.

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

We are sometimes occasioned in our tale to report some speech from another mans mouth, as what a king said to his priuy counsell or subiect, a captaine to his souldier, a souldiar to his captaine, a man to a woman, and contrariwise: in which report we must alwaies geue to euery person his fit and naturall, & that which best becommeth him. For that speech becommeth a king which doth not a carter, and a young man that doeth not an old: an so in euery sort and degree. Virgil speaking in the person of Eneas, Turnus


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and many other great Princes, and sometimes of meaner men, ye shall see what decencie euery of their speeches holdeth with the qualitie, degree and yeares of the speaker. To which examples I will for this time referre you.

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

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

Nature bids vs as a louing mother,
To loue our selues first and next to loue another.
The Prince that couets all to know and see,
Had neede fall milde and patient to bee.
Nothing stickes faster by vs as appeares,
Then that which we learne in our tender yeares.

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

Neuer thinke you fortune can beare the sway,
Where vertues force, can cause her to obay.

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

Arte and good pollicie moues vs many times to be earnest in our speach, and then we lay on such load and so go to it by heapes as if we would winne the game by multitude of words & speaches, not all of one but of diuers matter and sence, for which cause the


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Latines called it congeries and we the heaping figure, as he that said

To must in minde how faire, how wise, how good,
How braue, how free, how curteous and how true,
My Lady is doth but inflame my blood.

Or thus.

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

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

But if my faith my hope, my loue my true intent;
My libertie, my seruice vowed, my time and all be spent.
In vaine, &c.

But if such earnest and hastie heaping vp of speaches be made by way of recapitulation, which commonly is in the end of euery long tale and Oration, because the speaker seemes to make a collection of all the former materiall points, to binde them as it were in a bundle and lay them forth to enforce the cause and renew the hearers memory, then ye may geue him more properly the name of the [collectour] or recapitulatour, and serueth to very great purpose as in an hympne written by vs to the Queenes Maiestie entitled (Minerua) wherein speaking of the mutabilitie of fortune in the case of all Princes generally, wee seemed to exempt her Maiestie of all such casualtie, by reason she was by her destinie and many diuine partes in her, ordained to a most long and constant prosperitie in this world, concluding with this recapitulation.

But thou art free, but were thou not in deede,
But were thou not, come of immortall seede:
Neuer yborne, and thy minde made to blisse,
Heauens mettall that euerlasting is:
Were not thy wit, and that thy vertues shall,
Be deemd diuine thy fauour face and all:
And that thy loze, ne name may neuer dye,
Nor thy state turne, stayd by destinie:
Dread were least once thy noble hart may feele,
Some rufull turne, of her unsteady wheele.

Many times when we haue runne a long race in our tale spoken to the hearers, we do sodainly flye out & either speake or exclaime


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at some other person or thing, and therefore the Greekes call such figure (as we do) the turnway or turnetale, & breedeth by such exchaunge a certaine recreation to the hearers minds, as this vsed by a louer to his vnkind mistresse.

And as for you (faire one) say now by proofe ye finde,
That rigour and ingratitude soone kill a gentle minde.

And as we in our triumphals, speaking long to the Queenes Maiestie, vpon the sodaine we burst out in an exclamation to Phebus, seeming to draw in a new matter, thus.

But O Phebus,
All glistering in thy gorgious gowne,
Wouldst thou wit safe to slide a downe:
And dwell with vs,
But for a day,
I could tell thee close in thine eare,
A tale that thou hadst leuer heare
I dare well say:
Then ere thou wert,
To kisse that vnkind runne away,
Who was transformed to boughs of bay:
For her curst hert. &c.

And so returned againe to the first matter.

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

And these be things that a poet or maker is woont to describe sometimes as true or naturall, and sometimes to faine as artificiall and not true. viz. The visage, speach and countenance of any person absent or dead: and this kinde of representation is called the Counterfait countenance: as Homer doth in his Ilades, diuerse


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personages: namely Achilles and Thersites, according to the truth and not by fiction. And as our poet Chaucer doth in his Canterbury tales set forth the Sumner, Pardoner, Manciple, and the rest of the pilgrims, most naturally and pleasantly.

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

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

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

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

In this figure the Lord Nicholas Vaux a noble gentleman, and much delighted in vulgar making, & a man otherwise of no great leaning but hauing herein a maruelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the battayle and assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application of his fiction in euery part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it can not be amended.

When Cupid scaled first the fort,
Wherein my hart lay wounded sore

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The battrie was of such a sort,
That I must yeeld or die therefore.
There saw I loue vpon the wall,
How he his banner did display,
Alarme alarme he gan to call,
And bad his souldiers keep aray.
The armes the which that Cupid bare,
Were pearced harts with teares besprent:
In siluer and sable to declare
The stedfast loue he alwaies meant.
There might you see his band all drest
In colours like to white and blacke,
With pouder and with pellets prest,
To bring them forth to spoile and sacke,
Good will the maister of the shot,
Stood in the Rampire braue and proude,
For expence of pouder he spared not,
Assault assault to crie aloude.
There might you heare the Canons rore,
Eche peece discharging a louers looke, &c.

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

But as the watrie showres delay the raging wind,
So doeth good hope cleane put away dispare out of my mind.

And in this other likening the forlorne louer to a striken deere.

Then as the striken deere, withdrawes himselfe alone,
So do I seeke some secret place, where I may make my mone.

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

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

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

The launce so bright, that made Telphus wound,
The same rusty, salued the sore againe.
So may my meede (Madame) of you redownd,
Whose rigour was first authour of my paine.

The Tuskan poet vseth this Resemblance, inuring as well by Dissimilitude as Similitude, likening himselfe (by Implication) to the flie, and neither to the eagle nor to the owle: very well Englished by Sir Thomas Wiat after his fashion, and by my selfe thus:

There be some fowles of sight so prowd and starke,
s can behold the sunne, and neuer shrinke,
ome so feeble, as they are faine to winke,
r neuer come abroad till it be darke:
thers there be so simple, as they thinke,
ecause it shines, to sport them in the fire,
nd feele unware, the wrong of their desire,
luttring amidst the flame that doth them burne,
f this last ranke (alas) am I aright,
or in my ladies lockes to stand or turne,
haue no power, ne find place to retire,
here any darke may shade me from her sight

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ut to her beames so bright whilst I aspire,
I perish by the bane of my delight.

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

As true loue is content with his enioy,
And asketh no witnesse nor nor record,
And as faine loue is euermore most coy,
To boast and brag his troth at euery word:
Euen so the wise withouten other meede:
Contents him with the guilt of his good deede.

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

As the good seedes sowen in fruitfull soyle,
Bring foorth foyson when barren doeth them spoile:
So doeth it fare when much good learning hits,
Vpon shrewde willes and ill disposed wits.

And in these likening the wise man to an idiot.

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

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

After ill crop the soyle must eft be sowen,
And fro shipwracke we sayle to seas againe,
Then God forbid whose fault hath once bene knowen,
Should for euer a spotted wight remaine.

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

It fares not by fathers as by masters it doeth fare,
For a foolish father may get a wise sonne,
But of a foolish master it haps very rare
Is bread a wise seruant where euer he wonne.

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

See the Giant deepe in a dale, the dwarfe vpon an hill,

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Yet will the one be but a dwarfe, th'other a giant still.
So will the wise be great and high, euen in the lowest place:
The focle when he is most aloft, will seeme but low and base.

But when we liken an humane person to another in countenaunce, stature, speach or other qualitie, it is not called bare resemblance, but resemblaunce by imagerie or pourtrait, alluding to the painters terme, who yeldeth to th'eye a visible representation of the thing he describes and painteth in his table. So we commending her Maiestie for wisedome bewtie and magnanimitie likened her to the Serpent, the Lion and the Angell, because by common vsurpation, nothing is wiser then the Serpent, more couragious then the Lion, more bewtifull then the Angell. These are our verses in the end of the seuenth Partheniade.

Nature that seldome workes amisse,
In womans brest by passing art:
Hath lodged safe the Lyons hart,
And feately fixt with all good grace,
To Serpents head an Angels face.

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

Of siluer was her forehead hye,
Her browes two bowes of hebenie,
Her tresses trust were to behold
Frizled and fine as fringe of gold.

And of her lips.

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

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And of her eyes.

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

And of her breasts.

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

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

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

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


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in Egypt, therfore all great Captains & Generals ought to doe it.

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

And as this resemblance is of one mans action to another, so may it be made by examples of bruite beasts, aptly corresponding in qualitie or euent, as one that wrote certaine prety verses of the Emperor Maximinus, to warne him that he should not glory too much in his owne strength, for so he did in very deede, and would take any common souldier to taske at wrastling, or weapon, or in any other actiuitie and feates of armes, which was by the wiser sort misliked, these were the verses.

The Elephant is strong, yet death doeth it subdue,
The bull is strond, yet cannot death eschue.
The Lion strong, and slaine for all his strength:
The Tygar strong, yet kilde is at the length.
Dread thou many, that dreadest not any one,
Many can kill, that dreadest not any one,
Many can kill, that cannot kill alone.

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