§. 2.

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

§. 3.

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

§. 4.

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

§. 5.

Now my dear Terentianus, we are to note that as it happens in the courſe of life, there is nothing great which we can ſay it is noble in any man to contemn; as for inſtance, Wealth, Honour, Repute, Empire, and all thoſe other things that to the outward appearance ſeem moſt majeſtick. For certainly no rationall man can think theſe ſo abſolutely good when 'tis no mean happineſſe to deſpiſe them, and therefore they muſt neceſſarily admire them that might enjoy them if they pleaſed, but through royalty of mind deſpiſe them. The like we are alſo to judge of all Elations in Poeſy and Oratory, leaſt ſome things which may appear big and luſty and (at the firſt ſight) wrought with a great deal of skill, when they come to be weighed become miſerably empty, and much fitter for contempt then wonder. For indeed naturally our ſouls are ſo enflamed by true heights that they generally elevate themſelves, and in a tranſport of joy and wonder own and father thoſe great things that are preſented to them, as if themſelves had produced them.

Therefore when we hear any wiſe and eloquent man utter and repeat any thing that touches and pierces not, and faſtens no more in the mind then a meer remembrance that it was ſpoken, but after ſerious conſideration decayes and vaniſhes, this we cannot call true Height, as that which can ſcarce outlaſt the hearing. For that indeed is only truly noble which will ſtand to the teſt of a ſcrutinous conſideration, and which ſo poſſeſſes us that we are not able to forget it; for the memory is greedy and will not ſhake hands with a thing acceptable. But believe you thoſe things to be only truly and exquiſitely high, that can pleaſe all men and at all times; therefore when you ſee men of different cuſtomes opinions and ages unanimouſly approve one ſpeech, it is to be ſuppoſed that the judgment of ſo many various minds conſenting therein is uncontroulable and to be acquieſc'd in.

§. 6

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

§. 7.

Now for that which I placed firſt as indeed the moſt conſiderable of all, Vaſtneſſe of thought, it will be neceſſary we examine whether it be meerly naturall or poſſibly acquirable, though notwithſtanding we ought to nurture our ſouls to greatneſſe, and impregnate them (as I may ſay) to thoughts high and extraordinary. But by what means ſay you? I have ſaid here and upon other occaſions, that this greatneſſe was but an Image or Reſultance of the mind. Hence is it that many naked ſentences, wanting the advantage of a voice, are admired meerly for their ſtrength and worth. For inſtance, the ſilence of Ajax in 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 [ 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ] is ſtately and indeed more forcible then any ſpeech. We are therefore firſt to enquire for a foundation upon which all this may be built, and then we ſhall find that an Oratour ought not to have any thing in his thoughts low or unworthy. For 'tis impoſſible that men whoſe thoughts are dayly cageol'd to ſervile and mean deſigns can produce any thing miraculous and fit to ſurvive to all Generations; for we muſt conceive that thoſe men ſpeak the braveſt things that have the fulleſt and luſtieſt thoughts; therefore men of vaſt ſpirits ſpeak the hugeſt things. Thus [Alexander] to Parmenio telling him, I ſhould have been ſatisfied

as I am Alexander; And ſo I proteſt I would if I were Parmenio. This ſhews a Royalty of ſpirit. And the like of Homer, in a deſcription of Eris or ſtrife, She walks on earth, yet her head reaches heaven.

This any man will eaſily apprehend to be rather the ſtature of Homers mind then of Eris. How unlike to which is that of Hesiod in his ſhield (if you will allow it his) Her noſthrils dropt baſe naſty matter— Here he makes his Idea not terrible but hatefull. But ſee the other [Homer] aggrandize his divinities, So much of Air as a ſurvaying eye Freely ſtretch'd o're the Ocean can eſpie, So far the Gods high-creſted horſes leap At once— Meaſuring (you ſee) their leaps by the breadth of the horizon. Would not any man then probably aſtoniſhed at theſe vaſt conceptions, cry out, If theſe horſes of the Gods ſhould leap twice, there were no room in the world for them to leap a third time?

Now obſerve but how Gigantick and tranſcendent are thoſe images about the [Giants] fight with the Gods: Olympus, nay even heaven ecchoed round, and, Pluto the God of ſhades trembling below And ſtarting from his throne, must Neptune now (Venting his fears, cry'd he) the earth divide And with his Waters in theſe caves abide, Theſe horrid ghaſtly miſerable abodes Vnknown to light and hated of the Gods?

See here (friend) the earth ſhaken, broken, and clefted, nay even hell it ſelf laid open, apprehending a turn and diſſolution of the whole; nay altogether Heaven, Earth, Mortals, Immortals equally endangered and concerned in this fight. But theſe are terrible, and, unleſſe allegorically underſtood, abſolutely Atheiſticall and indeed improper. For truly Homer (if my opinion be any thing) when he brings in his Gods wounded, ſiding, revenging, weeping, bound, ſuffering in loſſes; makes the actours in the Trojan war, as far as lyes in him, Gods, and the Gods men. For death to us is a certain haven and repoſure after all unhappineſſe; but he made the nature and infelicity of his Gods equally eternall. Thoſe things are far better which he ſayes of the ſame fight, when he mentions no Godhead but as great (as it is very juſt) pure and incorruptible; for example (though many before have noted the place) —Each Mountain trembled, and each wood Where the immortall feet of Neptune trod. He drove to th'Sea, where the glad Whales advance From their vaſt holes and to their Monarch dance, (Knowing his power) they rather fly then glide, Whileſt the glad Seas their trembling waves divide.

Thus the Law-giver of the Iews, and an excellent perſon, after he had ſufficiently declared the power of the Divinity, and acknowledged it, in the very beginning of the Book of his Laws ſaid, God ſpoke; what? Let there be light, and there was light: Let there be earth, and there was earth. Pray you, my noble friend, think me not troubleſome, if out of the Poet I make bold to quote one thing, and ſuch a one as concerns the affairs of mankind, and that for inſtruction ſake, that we may know a means, and learn the cuſtome how to aggrandize our natures to theſe heroick pitches. There was a darkneſſe ſuddenly happened and a diſmall obſcurity waited on it which withheld the Grecians from fight; Ajax being at a ſtand, ſayes; Dear Jove clear up theſe miſts, let th'Grecians ſee A clearer day and not ſtill darkened be; Give day and let me periſh— Nothing can be more like Ajax then this paſsion; for he begs not life of Iupiter; (that had been a Petition much below an Hero) but when he conſidered that the night made men uncapable of ſhewing their valour, or at leaſt, the miſt would render them undiſtinguiſhed, he breaks into diſdain and begs a ſuddain approach of light, as one that would find himſelf a ſepulchre worthy of his valour, though Iove himſelf would combat with him. Herein Homer purſues combats with equall violence, a man engag'd and in fury could do no other. Like dreadful Mars or hungry fires that rove In their free rage and prey upon a grove, He foam'd for very wrath. And indeed we may perceive by the Odyſſes (this in many reſpects is worth our conſideration) great minds in their declination ſtagger into Fabling; for 'tis apparent out of many viſible inferences, that the Odyſſes were a ſecond work of the Poets as additionall to what he had formerly treated of the war of Troy; and thus much you cannot but acknowledge from thoſe griefs and lamentations we find there, which we muſt ſuppoſe to be made to people that knew them before; for I may juſtly ſay the Odyſſes were but a corollary to the Iliads. Here lies ſtout Ajax; here Achilles; here Patroclus, whoſe great mind the Gods might ſteere; And here mine own dear ſon— From this very cauſe I think it proceeds that the Iliads written in the ſtrength and exaltation of his ſpirit were wholly full of life and action; But the Odyſſes ſolely abound with Narrations which is the property of old Age, ſo that in them a man may compare Homer to the ſetting Sun, who though he have loſt much of his vigour retains his greatneſſe: For indeed he preſerves not the magnificence, the ſtayed height, the collections, conſtant Gravity, brave uniting of different paſsions, ſubtle conduct and depths of Policy, ſhadow'd and veyld with appearances of Truth. But as the unquiet Ocean removes it ſelf and deſerts thoſe ſhoars it had formerly overflown; ſo may we ſay of him, that this remainder was the Ebbe of his greatneſſe, though this will ſeem very improbable to ſuch as are delighted with Fables, or will remain incredulous. When I ſay this I forget not the Tempeſts, the Cyclops, and many others; but I put a remark on old Age, or to ſay better, the old age of Homer: Only in theſe that I am now to quote the Fabulous part very much exceeds the Reall. I have digreſſed thus far as I formerly intimated, that I might ſhew how the moſt conſummate minds being once in the wane, become darkened by the greateſt follies: to go no further for inſtance then the ſtory of the enchanted Bottles; Circe's transformed hogs, which Zollus pleaſantly called weeping ſwine; the nurſing of Iove by Doves [or the Pleiades] He that after ſhipwrack liv'd 10 dayes without meat; and theſe abſolute impoſsibilities of ſlaying the woers; what can a man think otherwiſe of theſe but as excellent dreams? Another queſtion will now ariſe why I ſo often mention the Odyſſes, and I muſt anſwer; To make it appear how far decrepit wits dwindle into things that concern manners, as the things morally related to Vlyſſes [at his return concerning his wife and woers,] ſeem to carry the ſhape and faſhion of an exact Comedy.

§. 8.

To purſue our Buſineſſe we'l conſider whether there be any more wayes to advance Eloquence and render it Illuſtrious. Now ſince upon every occaſion or ſubject there are ſome parts or circumſtances that muſt neceſſarily relate unto it, we ſhall find a very good advantage to our intentions if we will chooſe the beſt of thoſe things that offer themſelves unto us, and ſo cement them together that (like Muſive work) they may appear altogether but as one thing; for choice of the moſt conſiderable notions, and beauteous diſpoſure and crowding them together perſuades not the Reader, but enforces him. Thus did Sappho ſingle out all thoſe accidents that are either inherent or conſequentiall to love and melancholy, and, apprehending what they are, really diſpoſe them to the beſt advantage. But where appeares this great skill? ſhe knew how to call out the greateſt and braveſt things, and then to mould them into proportion and correſpondencie: He that ſits next thee now and hears Thy charming voyce to me appears Beauteous as any Deity That rules the skie. How did his pleaſing glances dart Sweet languors to my raviſh'd heart! At the firſt ſight thou ſo prevail'd That my voice fail'd. I'me ſpeechleſſe, feav'riſh, fires aſſail My fainting fleſh, my ſight doth fail, Whileſt to my reſtleſſe mind my ears Still hum new fears. Cold ſweats and tremblings ſo invade That like a wither'd flower I fade, So that my life being almoſt loſt I ſeem a Ghoſt. Yet ſince I'me wretched I muſt dare.

Wonder you not at this? The ſoul, the body, the tongue, the ears, the eyes, the complexion, things ſo widely different are here by a ſtrange artifice brought together, and according to her ſeverall contrary agitations; how ſhe burns, how ſhe freezes, how ſhe raves, & how ſhe deliberates! for either ſhe's in fear or at the point of death; ſo that it appears not a ſingle paſsion, but a conflux and general rendezvouz of them all; yet all this is no leſſe then what any lover undergoes. Now the choice as I have told you of the beſt, and handſome diſpoſure hath wrought up this excellency, and thus in my opinion the Poet mentioning a tempeſt brings in the terribleſt things can be expected. Now he that writ the Arimaspeia conceived theſe circumſtances full of dread; 'Tis ſtrange nor can our thoughts the reaſon tell, Men far from Land in Seas and Water dwell, All are unhappy though their task be hard, Their thoughts in th' Sea, their eyes to heaven rear'd; Whileſt to the careleſſe Gods their hands they heave. And the ſearch'd entrails no aſſurance give.

I think any man may conceive that this is very pleaſant and floſculent: But to ſhew you what Homer hath done in this point, I will give you this one inſtance in ſtead of many. He fell, as on a ſhip an angry wave Toſt by the wind which forcibly doth rave Covering her all with froth, whileſt whirlwinds ſhake Their Maſts, and the deſpairing Sea-men quake, Seeing how little diſtant they're from death. This did Aratus endeavour to imitate; A little timber keeps them out of hell. Now in ſteed of making the buſineſſ dreadfull he hath made it ſmooth and little, for he ended their danger when he ſayes, Keeps them out of Hell, that is to ſay, ſecures them. Now the Poet not content with the ſingle mention of their danger deſcribes them continually and variouſly periſhing, and ready to be ſwallowed up by every wave. Beſides, how fitly hath he brought together two prepoſitions of a different nature, forcing them as it were in deſpight of their ſingularity to join, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , the verſe being troubled like the paſsion it treats of. Now this fainting of the verſe doth the moſt naturally reſemble fear of any thing poſſible, having ſo properly languag'd the danger that were it reall it could not produce any thing more paſsionate; 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Thus Archilochus in his Poem called the Shipwrack, and Demoſthenes of the coming of Tidings, It grew toward night, ſayes he. But theſe men (ſome will tell me) chooſing the moſt illuſtrious things that had been ſaid, and knitting them according to their ſeverall worths into one piece, produc'd nothing that was ſwelling, unbecoming, or Pedantick. For ſuch things infect the whole like waſhes, but great Buildings are raiſed up by the correſpondence of parts one towards another.

§. 9.

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

§. 10.

I am to confeſſe that I am very much diſſatisfied with the definition which they who have treated of this Art generally give; Amplification (ſay they) is that which brings a luſtre or nobleneſſe to the ſubject matter. This may as well be a common definition to Heights, Paſsions and Tropes, which all derive luſtre and greatneſſe to what they treat of. Now (to me) there appears a very great difference between Height and Amplification: from the firſt we muſt expect elation, from the ſecond, plenty; therefore we often find the one in a particular ſentence, the other muſt come in a Bulk and out of abundance. For Amplification (to be ſhort in the buſineſs) is a comprehenſion of all thoſe circumſtances that concern the matter, and enforcement of the memory to a compliance with the deſign in hand; and ſo it differs from ſtrong argument, becauſe it muſt be admitted to the determination of the controverſie.

Thus does Greatneſſe oftentimes richly pour forth it ſelf, and like a large ocean overwhelm all round about it. Hence is it I conceive this Oratour to be ſo nobly paſſionate in his Orations, and have ſo much of flame and fiery agitation of mind. Now he retaining his majeſty and becoming magnificence decayes not at all: but methinks, Terentianus, in other places he doth not ſo well turn and wind himſelf as here; yet this I ſhal not ſo confidently affirm, becauſe poſſibly we Grecians are no competent judges of Cicero. Now Cicero and Demoſthenes differ very much in their Heights, for thoſe of Demoſthenes are ſumm'd up into brevity, thoſe of Cicero ſpread themſelves at full. Our Oratour is ſo forcible that with his fierceneſſe, ſwiftneſſe, and ſtrength, as a whirlwind or thunderbolt, he overthrows and burns all. Now Cicero is like a prevailing conflagration preying upon all, continually mounting, and not eaſie to be extinguiſh'd, but ever enlarging it ſelf, as indeed it is in him, varying it many wayes, but yet perpetually nouriſhed and ſhining. But of theſe things your ſelf may better judge. Now the Demoſthenicall elevation is then proper when we have occaſion to exaggerate, when we would violently burry all before us with great paſſion, and indeed at once ſtorm the mind of the Auditour and take him in. The other greatneſſe which is copious and Aſiatick is then to be uſed when we have a mind to ſtroak and ſurpriſe the Auditors with ſome blandiſhments, when we have any common place to handle, in all expatiations and digreſsions, in all relations demonſtrations, or hiſtories, in all deſcriptions of naturall things, beſides a many other occaſions whereunto this plentifull way of ſpeech is much more ſerviceable then the reſtrained.

§. 11.

Nay that Plato too (for I return from this digreſſion) like a deep river glides ſmoothly and ſilently, yet notwithſtanding wants not his ſublimities, you your ſelf muſt acknowledge if you read his Politicks. Now theſe ſayes he, that are ſtrangers to wiſdome and vertue, and laviſh their time in banquets and ſuch entertainments, methinks are perpetually ſinking downward, and do nothing but ſtraggle all their lives through, for their eyes are too feeble ever to look upon truth, much leſſe to gaze on her and admire her: Nor did they ever taſte any reall or ſtedfaſt pleaſures, but like beaſts lay perpetually grovelling and poaring on the earth, conſidering no further then their victuals, with which being once glutted and ſatisfied, there is nothing to do but to dance and wanton. Hence is it that the greedineſſe of theſe things encreaſing with the debauchery, they aſſail one another with a mutuall rage, and fighting with iron horns and hoofs periſh in this brutall avarice. Now this great man here ſhews us if we will but be content to learn from him, that there is another way unto Height beſides thoſe we formerly mentioned: and what ſhould this be? A diligent and ſtrict imitation of ſuch famous Poets and Writers as have gone before us. And this is a mark, my dear friend, that we ought to ſpend all our skill and induſtrie to hit exactly: For many are ſo rapt and tranſported with the conceptions of another, that they are poſſeſſed like the Pithia raving upon her Tripos, where there is a cleft of the earth breaths up (as they ſay) a ſtrong inſpiring vapour, which ſeizing the propheteſſe ſhakes her, and fils her with ſuch divine furies that ſhe raves out myſteries and propheſies accordingly. Such kind of airs and vapours ſhoot themſelves from the admirable writings of ancient Authors, as it were from ſome ſecret cave, which breath upon the ſouls of their imitatours though poſſibly not made for ſuch high tranſports, and ſwell them up into a greatneſſe like their own. Herodotus was in a manner a ſole imitatour of Homer, and before him Steſichorus and Archilochus, but none more ſtudiouſly followed him then Plato, who deriv'd many ſtreams from Homers great River into his own channells. Nor are we to call this theft, but a repreſentation of the beſt Thoughts, Artifices or Inventions. Yet doth he not ſeem to me to mingle theſe ſo commonly with his Philoſophy, or ordinarily to digreſſe into Poeticall expreſſions or conceptions: but only when with a ſettled purpoſe he endeavours to diſpute preheminence with Homer (though already ſettled in a high reputation) which he doth with ſo much eagerneſſe, that skirmiſhing (as it were) with him he often not unfortunately enters the liſts, and maintains the Combat: but as Heſiod ſayes —Theſe ſtrifes are good in men— And indeed theſe are the nobleſt and worthieſt contentions that are about the crown of glory, for in this to be overcome by ones predeceſſors is not diſhonourable.

§. 12.

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

§. 13.

Now is youth to be acquainted, that Pomp, wealth of Speech, proud Emulations, are by no means better acquir'd then by Phantaſies, which ſome have called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 [or inward images of things.] Now by Phantaſie is generally underſtood any conception which may be faſhion'd into Speech; but more particularly it hath prevailed to be accepted only of ſuch repreſentations as being to be worded, thou wilt be ſo agitated with fury and paſſion as to think thou really ſeeſt them, and ſo make them viſible even to the hearers. Notwithſtanding you muſt take this by the way, that a Rhetoricall and Poeticall phantaſie are quite different, for that which the Poet ought to aim at is Amazement, that which the Oratour, clearneſſe and conviction, yet both of them equally require commotion or agitation. O mother I beſeech thee ſend not hither Theſe Serpent-hair'd, theſe bloody-viſag'd hags. O they're at hand, and now begin to ſeize mee. and O ſhe will ſlay me, whither ſhall I fly? Here the Poet himſelf ſaw not theſe furies, yet ſo imag'd them that he almoſt forc'd the ſpectators to believe they were before their eyes. And indeed to ſpeak truth Euripides is very diligent in exalting and enflaming of thoſe two grand agitations of love and madneſſe, and in them (I cannot ſay in the reſt) extreamly fortunate, although he hath not wanted courage to attempt other phantaſies: for though his mind was not fram'd with the greateſt, yet hath he often forc'd it into many brave raptures and tragicall exceſſes, but eſpecially greatneſſes, that we may apply to him that of the Poet [ſpeaking of a Lion] Then with his tail laſhing his ſides and thighs He gathers wrath and to the combat flyes. Now when the Sun delivers the reins of his charriot to Phaeton; Drive, but be ſure thou ſhun the Africk skie, For ſhee no moiſture hath to cool the heat Of thy hot wheels— And afterward, Towards the ſeven Pleiades Child bend thy courſe. He bearing this eagerly ſnatch'd the reins, And ſharply laſhing the ſwift fiery ſteeds, Gave rein: they through the airs blew convex flew, Whileſt that his Father as Poſtilion rode Inſtructing him which way and how to drive; But he drove up and down— Would not any man ſay the ſoul of Euripides hath here taken coach with Phaeton, and with like danger was hurried along by the horſes? for it had been impoſsible for him to have figur'd ſuch things, had not his thoughts been mightily elevated in the contemplation of what was done in heaven. Parallel to theſe is that in his Caſſandra, But O Horſe-loving Trojans— Now Aeſchylus was very daring in theſe heroicall conceptions, let this in his Seven at Thebes demonſtrate, —Seven ſtout undaunted Captains, Slaying a Bull upon a broad black ſhield, Covenanted by oath to Mars and fierce Enyo And pale blood-thirſty fear— They without remorſe mutually ſwearing their own deaths: and yet as he ſometimes flags into thoughts not only little and inconſiderable, but deformed and unpoliſht; ſo Euripides out of an affectation of honor imbarks himſelf in the ſame danger. Thus in Aeſchylus, when the court of Lycurgus was divinely agitated at the unexpected appearāce of Bacchus,

The Court grew furious & the roofs 〈◊〉 rage. Euripides ſpeaks the ſame thing though he ſpeak it otherwiſe: —The whole mountain rag'd. Nay and Sophocles admirably repreſents Oedipus dying in the midſt of a great Tempeſt and burning himſelf: As alſo the ſetting ſail of the Grecians, and likewiſe the appearance of Achilles from the Tombe when they were ſetting forward. Which very Image I know not who hath drawn better to the life then Simonides. Now theſe Idea's we find in Poets are more fabulouſly raiſed (as we ſaid before) and not to be calculated by faith; But the Rhetoricall are then moſt excellent when they are efficacious and veritable. But • igreſſions are unproper and unſufferable if they ramble into Poetry or fictions, or any thing that ſeems to carry an impoſſibilitie: Yet now adayes (forſooth) we ſee a many of thoſe that would be thought no ſmall Oratours ſwell in a Tragick manner and ſeem furies, yet will theſe brave men condeſcend to conſider or learn that when Oreſtes ſayes Unclaſp thou that art one of my Tormenters, And graſp me not to throw me down— He imagines theſe things becauſe he was mad. But then will you ſay, What uſe of Rhetoricall Phantaſie? Marry to carry on high emulations, and heighten great paſſions, beſides many other; ſo that being mingled with other Arguments to the purpoſe, they do not only perſuade the Hearer but conquer him. If any (ſayes the Oratour) ſhould hear a great noiſe before the Hall of Iuſtice, and ſome body ſhould bring word that the Priſon were broke open, what old or young man would be ſo unworthy as not to give all poſſible aſſiſtance in this caſe? But if ſome paſſing by ſhould ſay this is the man [that broke the priſon and ſhew him] and he not be admitted to ſpeak, he could not eſcape ſudden death. Thus Hyperides haranguing when he had ſet free the ſlaves after the defeat [of Cheronaea] This was (ſayes he) not done by voices, not by perſuaſions of Oratours, but the Battle of Cheronaea. Thus he not only fortifies his argument, but makes way for a Phantaſie and therefore by this aſſumption exceeded the common bound and means of perſuaſion; for naturally in moſt things of this nature we moſtly fix our ears on that which is gallanteſt; hence are we drawn from the Argumentative part to a ſmiting phantaſie, whereby the other is both hid and enlightned. Nor is it improbable that we ſhould find this effect; for two things joining forces, the greater uſurps to it ſelf the force of the leſſer. Now for height of conception, bravery of Thought, Imitation, Phantaſie, and what concerns them, we think what we have ſaid may well ſuffice.

§. 14.

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

§. 15.

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

§. 16.

What ſhall we then ſay of Queſtions and Interrogations? does not any Oration become much more intenſe and forcible by ſhaping and molding figures in this form? Whether will you, I pray you tell me, meeting one another, Ask what news? Can there be any greater then to bear that a man of Macedonia ſhould orecome the Athenians and rule in Greece? What is Philip dead? No indeed is he not, but he is ſick: but I pray you what will you gain by it? for ſhould he dye never ſo ſoon, you your ſelves would make another Philip. And again he ſayes; Let's ſail into Macedonia. But where ſhall we land asks another? War it ſelf will find out the weakneſſes occaſioned by the badneſſe of Philips actions. Now if he had ſimply propounded the buſineſſe, it had been inferiour and inſufficient for its end. Now the ſuddenneſſe and ſwift proſecution of Interrogations and anſwering of Objections, is not only a means of heightning the ſhape of an Oration, but of rendring it more probable. For the intervention of ſome hinderances then draw the Hearer more forcibly on, when it ſeems that they are not raiſed by [the Orator] himſelf, but brought forth by occaſion. For enquiries to a mans ſelf and ſudden reſolving of them ſeem to afford a juſt opportunity of vehemencie. For as if we be asked any queſtion by others, we are obliged to make a preſent return, and ſuch ſatisfaction as may clear it out of the truth it ſelf; ſo the figure of Queſtion and Interrogation makes things that were premeditated to ſeem to be thought and ſaid on the ſudden, and ſo beguile and ſeduce the Hearer. And therefore (if there can be any thing higher then this of Herodotus) ſuppoſe thus.

How ſingly things fall and are in a manner powred forth, preventing in a manner the very Hearer! And joining ſhields together (ſayes Xenophon) they puſht, they fought, they ſlew, they dyed. And that of Eurylochus, We ſearch'd the woods (Sir) following your commands, Where in the vales Circe's proud Palace ſtands. Theſe words thus diſlocated yet ſpeeded, ſhew a great deal of greif yet both prevailing and moderated. Yet this did the Poet by uſing by ſyndeta's [or words not chaind by Anas.]

§. 17.

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

§. 18.

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

§. 19.

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

§. 19.

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

§. 21.

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

§. 22.

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

§. 23.

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

§. 24.

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

§. 25.

Now for Periphraſes [or circumlocutions] I think none doubts but that they very much elevate Speech. As in Muſick from diſcords there reſults the ſweeteſt harmony: ſo a periphraſis very often winds up it ſelf in its own expatiation, and moſt commonly tunes up it ſelf into an agreeable ſweetneſſe, eſpecially if it hath nothing in it blown up or inconſiſtent, but all proportionably tempered together. I cannot cite a better witneſſe then Plato in the very beginning of a funerall Oration: And indeed we pay theſe Obſequies unto them as the laſt duties they can receive now they are upon that journey which Fate hath preordain'd them, diſmiſſ'd both by the publick honours of the City, and private offices of friends. Here he calls death a preordain'd journey, and the buriall by the publick charge a pompous diſmiſsion by their own Country. Now by this means he either gently ſwell'd up his conceit, or elſe ſo diſpoſ'd bare words by this Periphraſis, that he wound them up into concord and melody. And Xenophon: Believe that labour is the trueſt Patron of a happy life; and you are now poſſeſſ'd of the braveſt endowment and fitteſt for a Warriour, that above all things you are delighted with praiſe: for in ſtead of ſaying you muſt labour, he ſayes, Believe it the trueſt Patron of a happy life, and ſo enlarging himſelf in the reſt, addes a huge notion unto his praiſes. And truly that of Herodotus is imitable: The Goddeſſe [Venus] puniſh'd thoſe Scythians that ſpoil'd her Temple with the feminine diſeaſe.

§. 26.

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

§. 27.

Now ſince in an Oration both the concepcion and phraſe receive ſpirit and luſtre from one another, let us beſtow our conſideration about that part of phraſe, if there be any thing remaining to be ſaid in it. That the election therefore of big and magnificent words ſtrangely ſtroaks and wins the Hearers and ſupplyes all Oratours and other Writers aiming at Height, not only with Majeſty, but beauty, clearneſſe, weight, ſtrength, prevaleſcence, and what ever elſe can yeeld any help thereunto, animating and poliſhing ſpeeches like rare Statues, and ſtriking a Morbidezza and ſprightlineſſe into them, inſpiring the ſubject with a vocall kind of ſoul, I conceive it unneceſſary to demonſtrate to a man of underſtanding. For indeed ſelected and flouriſhing words are reflexions, and (as a man may ſay) tranſparences of the mind: yet is not the ſtate and bigneſſe in them alwayes requir'd, for to enunciate ſlight and creeping matters in terms grave and lofty, is a buſineſſe no more congruous, then to impoſe an high tragicall perſon upon an Infant: yet in Poetry

Yet rich and plentifull. And that of Anacreon, The Threician [harp] ſhall no more take up my thoughts. The like is that of Theopompus, very laudable, for the Analogy of it ſeems to me very ſignificant, although Cecilius, I know not for what reaſon, blames it; Philip, ſayes he, knows now to ſwallow and put up any thing. For a naturall expreſſion is many times more prevalent then ornament, as is eaſily obſerved out of the common courſe of life; for things we are accuſtom'd to, ſooneſt gain our belief, and therefore to a man that can patiently ſit down under things unhandſome and ill-favour'd, nay be glad of them ſo they may bring him in ſome profit, it is moſt properly ſaid, He can ſwallow and put up any thing. And I pray you what think you of that of Herodotus, ſaying, Cleomenes being mad cut his fleſh with his ſword into ſmall bits, till he was ſlic'd and minc'd to death, Pythes fought ſo long upon the deck that he was at length chopt all to pieces? Theſe ſeem to rule upon a plain ſimple man, though the ſenſe of them is nothing ſuch.

§ 28.

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

§. 29.

But it will be worth our pains firſt to enquire in the Generall, whether in Poems and Orations an irregular and luxuriant greatneſſe be ſometimes better then a ſtaid proportionate and ſteddy regulation: And withall whether many vertues or the greater ought juſtly to obtain the primacy in ſpeech, For theſe queſtions are very proper to the diſquiſition of Height, and therefore cannot but require our determination. Now I obſerve that exceſſes of greatneſſe are naturally the leaſt pure, but what is nicely exact is in danger of littleneſſe. Thus in ſublimities as in vaſt eſtates, there muſt be ſomewhat to contemn and throw away. And muſt not this alſo be neceſſarily found, that men whoſe underſtandings are of a little making, never adventuring themſelves in attempts of height, ſeldome or never fall, but walk on ſure ground? yet for all this it is not to be conceal'd, that naturally all humane things are ever rather adjudg'd by the worſe, and the memory of the bad ſtands fixt and permanent, but that of the good glides away and vaniſhes. Now ſhould I inſtance ſome; no ſmal faults both of Homer and other Grandees, though for my part as I am as little pleaſ'd with their failings [as any man] ſo would I rather call them voluntary [errours] then offences, or [properly] failings of careleſneſſe, heedleſly overſeen by chance in ſeverall places by a noble pride of nature: yet nevertheleſſe I think the greateſt vertues, although not equally regnant in the whole piece, ought to carry the ſuffrage for precedency, were it for no other cauſe then their height and greatneſſe. Now though Apollonius that writ the Argonauticks hath never offended, and Theocritus in Paſtoralls (excepting ſome what he has of forein) is moſt fortunate; pray whether would you chooſe rather to be Homer or Apollonius? and whether, is Eratoſthenes for his Erigone, (a Poem abſolutely unblameable) to be accounted a greater Poet then Archilechus, that ſayes many things in confuſion, yet proceeding from the motion and dictates of ſome aſsiſting ſpirit, which ſo break out that they cannot be digeſted into order? And in Lyricks, whether would you be Bacchylides or Pindar? and in Tragoedy, Ion, or Chius, or (O difference!) Sophocles? theſe have been never found to fail as perpetually writing ſmooth and clear. But Pindar and Sophocles as they burn up all before them, ſo flaming oftentimes above the meaſure of their fewell they extinguiſh and miſerably decay. Yet would any judicious man putting all theſe works of Ion into the ſcales with that ſingle Play of Dedipus [of Sophocles] think them of equall value to it?

§. 30.

Beſides if we will judge theſe excellencies rather by their number then weight or realty, it will follow that Hyperides muſt be accounted a better Oratour then Demoſthenes, for he ſounds fuller and higher, hath a many things commendable, ſeeming a Maſter in what he undertakes, like an Olympick Gameſter, who is generally worſted by the beſt Gameſters, but carried it ſolely among the mean ones. Now Hyperides is a great Emulatour of Demoſthenes in all wherein he is exequiſite (except it be his compoſition) and to this hath added all the vertues and graces of Lyſias, yea and he's ſmooth and ſapple when there is occaſion, and carries not all on in an equall Tone, as does Demoſthenes. Beſides he guilds and ſweetens his Ethicks very pleaſantly, his Urbanities are innumerable, his reprehenſions moſt civill, his ingenuity in wraſtling with Allegories and retorting of jeſts not ſordid or diſigenuous (like thoſe of the Atticans,) but tart and preſsing: How dexterouſly removes he a crimination, and how facetiouſly? what handſome and ſure ſtabs he gives? his elegancie and poliſhure in all theſe to ſpeak truth is inimitable: withall he is much inclin'd to commiſeration, and not ſeldome wanders with fabulous narrations, through a lubricity of ſpirit, being very prone and apt to digreſſe; as for example, when he flew out into thoſe politick things concerning Latona, he made a funerall ſpeech ſo full of amplification, that I know not whether any other [could.] But Demoſthenes meddles little with manners or paſſion, ſeldome dilates himſelf, is nothing fluid or large, and in a word for the moſt part is guitleſſe of thoſe matters which we now mention'd in the former. And therefore when he is enforc'd to be cheerfull and pleaſant that he may provoke laughter, he is rather laug'd at then raiſes it: and when he endeavours to approach with ſomewhat winning and complaiſant, he is furtheſt from it. But yet ſince I conceive that the handſome things of the other are very little (as coming from a man ſober in heart) and flat, and ſuch as leave the Reader unmoved; (for what man reading Hyperides would be ſtruck into a paſſion?) whileſt the other taking the accents of Height it ſelf from the higheſt pitch of advanc'd Nature, and of ſkill perfected to the moſt exquiſite extremity, breaths out living paſsions, ſubſtantiall plenty, skill, ſwiftneſſe, and thereby a lordly, and, which is above all the reſt, an unaceſsible fierceneſſe, drawing all theſe divine endowments, (for I do not think it lawfull to call them humane) unto himſelf. And therefore theſe excellencies which he bids at he ſolely Maſters, and without a Rivall; and in ſtead of thoſe which he hath not, thunder-ſtrikes and in a manner enlightens the Oratours of all ages, that a man may ſooner open his eyes to a flaſh of lightning then look fixtly upon his motions and wonderfull agitations.

§. 31.

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

§. 32.

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

§. 33.

Of near kin to Metaphors are Parables and Deſcriptions, [or Pictures] differing only in this

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

§. 34.

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

§. 35.

Beſides that this apt diſpoſure of parts doth greaten ſpeech, as the like in membe • s does a body: for if one be once cut off and ſevered from another there is nothing comely, but all remaining together make up an handſome ſyſtem; ſo generous things being ſcatter'd and parceli'd one from another can never cloſe into any Height, but brought into a coalition and bound up into harmony, they circulate and become ſonorous; ſo that the true ſounds and tones of Periods, may be compar'd to a great feaſt made up of many diſhes. And indeed a many both Poets and other Writers, though they had none of the higheſt natures, and uſe moſtly but low, common, triviall and plain words, yet by the contexture and fabrick of them have arriv'd at pride and ſtately interſtices, and made ſhew of nothing leſſe then their meanneſſe: as for example (among many others) Philiſtus in ſome things, Ariſtophanes in many, Euripides as we have ſufficiently manifeſted. Thus Hercules [in Euripides] when he had ſlain his children;

I'm full of evils, there's no place for more. This is but popularly ſpoken, yet is made Tragicall by its order and figuration. Now if you will but diſcompoſe it a little, you wil find that this proceeds rather from the modelling of the words, then the notion they comprehend. And of Dirce being hurried about by a Bull, — Where e're He turn'd about, he turn'd about withall The Woman, Stones, and Oaks, throwing them round. The ſpeech is lofty, but is made more weighty in regard the tone is not made too ſwift and precipitate, but hath its ſtays and reſts at every name, and pauſes of time, whereby it eſtabliſhed it ſelf into juſt bigneſſe.

§. 36.

Nothing at all ſo enervates greatneſſe, as numbers rent and ſhatter'd in the pronunciation; as the Pyrrichii, Trochaei, Dichoraei, which can only be accommodated to a nimble dance; for all ſuch [things] as are bundled into numbers, preſently become pretty, thin, and diſ-paſsionate, flowing ſilently and untroubledly by reaſon of their too much ſmoothneſſe, and which is worſt of all in them they withdraw the hearer from what they treat of, and entertain him only with their noiſe. So theſe Rhythmicall and footed paſſages feed not the attention of the hearers with their matter, but their ſound, and they foreſeeing their periods join with them in the cloſe, and as in a conſort anticipate the concluſion. So [we may ſay of] theſe ſmall things triflingly flatted and ſmooth'd, and ſlic'd into particles, which ſeem'd to have their fractures naild up, and botch'd into a continuity.

§. 37.

That which alſo diminiſhes Grandeur is too much conciſeneſſe of phraſe, for if it be too Laconic it diſmembers it: but this muſt not be underſtood of ſuch as are limited to a juſt narrowneſſe, but ſuch as from which ſomewhat is lopp'd, for ſuch maims arreſt the underſtanding; compendiouſneſſe furthers it, but lifeleſſe and tedious prating is to be held excrement and excreſcency.

§. 38.

VVithall the uſe of little words is a great ſhame and blemiſh, and therefore Herodotus excellently deſcribes Winter as to his notions, though his ſubject is not ſo worthy of it; as in this, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , the Sea frothing, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is very eloquent by reaſon of the harſhneſſe of the ſound; 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (ſayes he) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 this 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is unhandſome becauſe of his commonneſſe, and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is unſuitable to ſuch a paſſion. So Theopompus endeavouring magnificently to deſcribe the expedition of the Perſians into Egypt, ſtabb'd his narration by a few little words; What City, or what Nation (ſayes he) in all Aſia ſent not their Ambaſſadours to the King? what was it that grows upon the earth, and could either be made curious or precious by Art, which was not brought and preſented to him? How many rich Carpets and Robes? ſome purple, ſome particolour'd, ſome white, Golden tents fitted with all kind of utenſils, many under-garments, and embroidered beds, ſilver and gold already coin'd, platters and goblets, ſome whereof you might ſee ſtudded with gemmes, others wrought with exquiſite skill and vaſt charge. Adde to this innumerable myriads of Arms, ſome of the Greek, ſome of the Barbarie faſhion, beſides Beaſts for carrying of Baggage above all account, and beſides others for ſacrifices, a number of buſhels of ſeaſoning for them, many ſacks and packs of Books, and what ever elſe could be neceſſary, ſo many Tubs of all kind of Sacrifices ſalted and prepared, pil'd into ſuch heaps, that viewing them afar off you would have ſuppoſ'd them Hills and Mountains new riſen up. Here when he ſhould have purſued the higheſt things, he falls upon the loweſt, whereas to have gain'd his point, he ſhould have done the contrary; and in this grand news of ſuch a preparation, mentioning cheſts of ſeaſonings and ſacks, he makes the buſineſſe little better then the march of a Sutlery; for it is no other, if in the ſame memoriall, wherein he mentions golden and ſtudded cups, ſtampt money, golden tents, he alſo places cheſts and ſacks, which certainly were a very unfitting and unbecoming ſight; ſo the words expreſſing them muſt needs be ugly ſcars as unhappily placed there. He might as well to make a full narration, have told what Mountains they were that were conjectur'd to riſe, and have made the Camels diſcourſe one with another what kind of preparation the other was, or a multitude of Beaſts carrying all that might ſerve the luxury of the Palat and Table, or have particulariz'd the heapes of all thoſe proviſions, and told whether they ſerv'd rather for neceſſary food or wantonneſſe of Banquet, or elſe in this manner he might have mention'd all things he thought requiſite either for Table or Banquet. For in high matters there maſt be no tumbling into other baſe and ſordid, unleſſe there be an abſolute and unavoidable neceſſity: For words ought to carry a ſtamp worthy of the things they repreſent, and in this to imitate nature in the making of man, who neither plac'd our privy parts nor our excrements in view, but as well became her, hidde them, and, as Xenophon ſayes, turn'd their channels and paſſages another way, leaſt there ſhould be any thing to impair the comlineſſe of the whole. But I will no longer inſiſt upon theſe cauſes of littleneſſe, for having once ſhewn what makes ſpeech generous and ſublime, it will follow that the contrary for the moſt part humbles and deforms it.

§. 39.

It only remains, and for your better information (deareſt friend) I will go through with it, to ſatisfie a queſtion which a certain Philoſopher ſometimes ask'd; 'Tis a great wonder (ſaid he) whence it ſhould come that in our age as well as in many others, large capacities, deep judgments, clear and ſearching heads, but eſpecially vigorous and fiery wits, made for the enriching of Eloquence, are very ſeldome or not at all found, ſuch a generall death there is of all men conſtellated for the ſciences: Shall wee I beſeech you believe that which hath been in many mens mouths, that a Democracie is the beſt Nurſe of high Spirits, and under it ſo many great Oratours have in a manner not only flouriſh'd, but even decay'd with it? For juſt liberty feeds and nouriſhes the thoughts with great notions, and draws them forward, and encreaſes their emulations and the ſtrong deſires they have to obtain the priority of honour, and that by the rewards propoſ'd to them in ſuch Republicks: the faculties of their minds and all their skills are whetted, and in a manner kindled into a flame, which commonly ſhines freely and brightly as the things they deal with. But we of this age, ſaid hee, ſeem to be taught from children to endure ſlavery, being ſwath'd as it were in theſe cuſtomes and perſuaſions even from our tendereſt nails, ſo that we cannot poſſibly taſte of that rich and full fountain of Eloquence, I mean, ſayes he, Liberty. So that in the end we become at beſt but excellent flatterers, and from hence, ſayes he, theſe kinds of habits follow us to our own homes; and 'tis impoſſible for a ſervile man to be a true Oratour, for preſently his Liberty and his boldneſſe decayes and conſumes, and being as it were by cuſtome uſed to buffeting we dare never ſpeake out but onely mutter. Wee loſe one half of our vertue (ſayes Homer) in one day of our ſervitude. And as (if it be true which I have heard reported) they ſay the cages in which Pigmies commonly called dwarfes are nouriſhed not only hinder the encreaſe and growth of them, but even ſtreighten them by a muzzle [or band] put about their mouths: So may we ſay that any ſlavery be it never ſo juſt, may truly be called a cage of the ſoul and a common Goal of it. But my good friend, ſaid he, I believe that it is proper to man to blame and repine at the preſent time, but looke if * * * * *

'Tis peace that corrupts the greateſt wits in the world, and ſo much the rather that this Warre which is endleſſe puts a ſtop upon our inclinations: And beſides wee may adde to this the perturbations that beſiege the preſent way of living, and oftentimes toſſe it and diſorder it; For Covetouſneſſe as a generall feaver will not ſuffer our thirſt to be quenched, and our pleaſures lead us captive, or, to ſay better, ſwallow up both our manners and deſigns. Now Covetouſneſſe leſſens a man the moſt of any thing, and pleaſure renders him the moſt ungenerous: nor upon the deepeſt reſuerie can I finde or opinion that it can poſſibly be, that thoſe who can value ſuch unmeaſurable wealth, or to ſpeake truer, adore it, can lay aſide thoſe baſe humours that infect the mind at the ſame time with it. Now to ſuch exceſſive and unbridled wealth, there neceſſarily follows like a ſhadow at the heeles prodigality and other vices, ſhe opening the Gates and entrances of Cities, poſſeſsing her ſelf of them and ſeating there. Now when theſe have had any long entertainment in the life of man, they build neſts there (as the wiſe men have ſaid) and preſently impregnate; and doe but you conſider what they muſt bring forth, marry haughtineſſe and luxury, which are not their baſtard-children but legitimate. Now if any cheriſh theſe grand-children of wealth, they breed up incontroulable Tyrants over their ſouls, contumely, and ſhameleſſeneſſe: for theſe things muſt neceſſarily follow, and 'tis impoſſible men ſhould look up to the pinnacles of honour, or ſay any thing more then ordinary. Thus are theſe corruptions of life perfected by degrees in a circle, and the excellencies of the ſoule decay, languiſh and grow drowſie, ſince they perceive men cheriſhing only their paſsible and mortall parts, and ſlumbring in irrationality, ſo that they neglect the purſuit of the vertues. For 'tis impoſſible in a Judgement ſeat that any man brib'd or prepoſſeſſ'd ſhould be a good judge of what were juſt or unjuſt, for whoever takes a bribe, muſt needs think that which is domeſtick to him the beſt and honeſteſt. Now ſince bribes and falſe judgments follow us all our lives, and contrivances and expectances of [others] deaths, and falſifying of Teſtaments, and truckings for gain out of any thing whatever, every man ſelling into ſlavery his owne minde; can we think in ſuch a peſtilent perverſion to expect any free and right judge of ſuch things, as being great and generous would divert him from his former deſigns, and not gratifie him with the flattery of his preſent oberrations? Now is it not better for us that are men of this kidney to have a Ruler ſet over us then to be left to our freedome, ſince that our Covetouſneſſe let wholly looſe (like priſoners ſet out of priſon into the voyſinage) would run headlong into ſuch miſchiefs as may ſet all the world on fire? Then (ſaid he) the lazineſſe of our modern wits proceeded alſo from profuſion, to which, except a few, wee are all enclin'd, not otherwiſe labouring then men newly recovered out of ſickneſſe, unleſſe it be for praiſe or pleaſure, but out of no zeal or to any profit worthy of praiſe. But it would be better perhaps to diſmiſſe this point and fall upon that which muſt next follow, and that is the paſsions, which wee have promiſed to treat of in another diſcourſe, in which both other ſpeech as well as Height will I ſuppoſe have a ſhare.

THE END.