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._]
_CHAP. XIX._
_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._