George Puttenham - The Arte of English Poesie

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[Sidenote: _Paralepsis_, or the Passager.]
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._

[Sidenote: _Commoratio_, or the figure of abode.]
It is said by maner of a prouerbiall 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 upon 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 Latine name: Some take it
not but for a course of argument & therefore hardly may one giue any
examples thereof.

[Sidenote: _Metastasis_, or the Flitting figure, or the Remoue.]
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 before was called the
figure of _aboade_.

[Sidenote: _Parecuasis, or the Stragler.]
Euen so againe, as it is wisdome for a perswader to tarrie and make his
aboad as long as he may conueniently without tediousness 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.

[Sidenote: _Expeditio_, or the speedie dispatcher.]
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 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 down 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 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, and 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 lizards 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._

[Sidenote: Dialogismus, or the right reasoner.]
We are sometimes occasioned in our tale to report some speech from another
mans mouth, as what a king said to his priuy counsel or subiect, a
captaine to his souldier, a souldiar to his captaine, a man to a woman,
and contrariwise: in which report we must always 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: and so, in euery sort and degree. _Virgil_ speaking in the person
of _Eneas, Turnus_ 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 warretime hazard of our person hardly obteined, our
young sonne without any peril at all, for little 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.

[Sidenote: _Gnome_, or the Director.]
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.

[Sidenote: _Sententia_, or the Sage sayer.]
_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 full milde and patient to bee.

Nothing stickes faster by us as appeares,
Then that which we learne in our tender yeares._

And that which our foueraigne 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.

[Sidenote: _Sinathrismus_, or the Heaping figure.]
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 Latines called it _Congeries_
and we the _heaping figure_, as he that said
_To muse 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 [_Mourua_] 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 recapitualtion.
_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._

[Sidenote: _Apostrophe_, or the turne tale.]
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 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 exclamtion 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 us,

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 unkind runneaway,
Who was transformed to boughs of bay:
For her curst hert. &c ._

And so returned againe to the first matter.

[Sidenote: _Hypotiposis_, or the counterfait representation.]
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 not 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.

[Sidenote: _Prosopographia_.]
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 _Iliades_, diuerse personages: namely _Achilles_ and
_Thersites_, according to the truth and not by fiction. And as our poet
_Chaucer_ doth in his Canterbury tales set for the Sumner, Pardoner,
Manciple, and the rest of the pilgrims, most naturally and pleasantly.

[Sidenote: _Prosopopeia_, or the Counterfait in personation.]
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 moralities is taught.

[Sidenote: _Cronographia_, or the Counterfait time.]
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.

[Sidenote: _Topographia_, or the Counterfait place.]
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
_Grysyll_.

[Sidenote: _Pragmatographia_, or the Counterfait action.]
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 heth in feat and
actiutie: we call it then the counterfeit action [_Pragmatographia_.]

In this figure the Lord _Nicholas Vaux_ a noble gentleman, and much
delighted in vulgar making, & a man otherwise of no great learning but
hauing herein a maruelous facillitie, 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,
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 had his souldiers keepe aray.
The armes the which that Cupid bare,
We 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 master 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._

[Sidenote: _Omiosis_, or Resemblance.]
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 of conceits, I
will set them 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 general 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 dispaire out of my mind._

And in this other likening the forlorne louer to a striken deer.
_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 beying 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 renowne, that raiseth us 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 Telephus wound,
The same rusty, salued the sore againe,
So may my meede (Madame) of you redownd,
Whose rigour was first suthour 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 myselfe thus:
_There be some fowles of sight so prowd and starke,
As can behold the sunne, and neuer shrinke,
Some so feeble, as they are faine to winke,
Or neuer come abroad till it be darke:
Others there be so simple, as they thinke,
Because it shines, so sport them in the fire,
And feele vnware, the wrong of the desire,
Fluttring amidst the flame that doth them burne,
Of this last ranke (alas) am I aright,
For in my ladies lookes to stand or turne
I haue no power, ne find place to retire,
Where any darke may shade me from her sight
But 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 constant with his enioy,
And asketh no witnesse nor no record,
And as faint loue is euermore most coy,
To boast and brag his troth at euery word:
Euen so the wise without enother 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 wisedome all such as profite most,
Are least surlie, and little apt to boast._

Againe, for a louer, whose credit vpon some report had bene shaken, 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 foole to
the Dwarfe.
_Set the Giant deepe in a dale, the dwarfe vpon an hill,
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 foole when he is most aloft, will seeme but low and base._

[Sidenote: _Icon_, or Resemblance by imagerie.]
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 the 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 courageous 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 stately fixt with all good grace,
To Serpents head an Angels face._

And this maner of resemblance is not onely performed by likening liuely
creatures one to another, but also of any other naturall thing bearing a
proportion of similitude, as to liken yellow 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 rubie rocke,
Like leaues to shut and to vnlock.
As portall dore in Princes chamber:
A golden tongue in mouth of amber._

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 up 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 _Icon_, or resemblance by imagerie and portrait.

[Sidenote: _Parabola_ or Resemblance misticall.]
But whensoeuer 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 dricklie 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.

[Sidenote: _Paradigma_, or a resemblance by example.]
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 expidition to Asia did thus, so did _Hanniball_ comming into
Spaine, so did _Caesar_ 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 _Dampeeter_ king of Spaine against _Henry_ bastard and
vsurper. So haue many English Princes holpen with their forces the poore
Dukes of Britaine their ancient friends 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.

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