§. 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 [Page IV] 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.

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 [Page VI] 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 [...], 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 [Page VII] 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 [Page VIII] 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.’ [Page IX] 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 [Page X] 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, [Page XI] 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 [Page XII] 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 [Page XII] 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?

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 [Page XIV] 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 [...] [ [...]] is state­ly and indeed more forcible then any speech. [Page XV] 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,

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:

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. [Page XVII] 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)

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 [Page XVIII] 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;

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.

[Page XIX] 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.

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 [Page XX] 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:

‘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 [Page XXIII] 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;

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.

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 [Page XXIV] 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, [...], 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; [...]. 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 [Page XXVII] 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 [Page XXVIII] 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 [Page XXIX] 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. [Page XXX] 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 [Page XXXI] 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 [...] [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 [Page XXXII] 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.

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]

Now when the Sun delivers the reins of his charriot to Phaeton;

And afterward,

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,

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: [Page XXXV] 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

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 [Page XXXVI] 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 [Page XXXVII] 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 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 [Page XXXVIII] 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 [Page XL] 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 [Page XLI] 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,

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] [Page XLIII] 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 [Page XLIV] 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 [Page XLV] 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 [Page XLVI] 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;

[Page XLVIII] 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 [Page XLIX] 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;

[Page L] 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:

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:

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 [Page LII] 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:

§. 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 [Page LIII] 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 [Page LIV] 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 [Page LV] 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 [Page LVI] 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 [Page LVII] 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; [Page LVIII] 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 [Page LIX] 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 [Page LX] 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 [Page LXI] 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 [Page LXII] 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 [Page LXIII] 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 [Page LXIV] 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 [Page LXV] 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 [Page LXVI] is easily attainable, but what is admi­rable is beyond his expectation or attempt.

§. 32.

In all the braveries therefore of speech to w ^ch 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.’ [Page LXVII] 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 [Page LXVIII] 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 [Page LXIX] 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 [Page LXX] 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 [Page LXXI] 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 [Page LXXII] rest. Now if you should transpose any thing here out of its place according to pleasure, as [...], or but cut off one syllable [...], you would find how much the time sets off Height; for that [...] knit to the former long foot is of four syllables, but being mangl'd into [...] it comes lame and the greatnesse is lost, but if again you stretch it out to [...] 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 [Page LXXIII] 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,

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, [...], the Sea frothing, [...] is very eloquent by reason of the harshnesse of the sound; [...] (sayes he) [...] this [...] is unhandsome because of his commonnesse, and [...] 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 [Page LXXVI] 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 [Page LXXVII] 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 [Page LXXVIII] 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 [Page LXXIX] 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 [Page LXXX] 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 [Page LXXXI] 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 [Page LXXXII] 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 [Page LXXXIII] 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.