the incomprehensible Trinity, and where ye shall see the fair face of the man Christ, even the beautiful face that was once for your cause more marred than any of the visages of the sons of men, and was all covered with spitting and blood. Be content to wade through the waters betwixt you and glory with Him, holding His hand fast, for He knoweth all the fords. Howbeit ye may be ducked, but ye cannot drown, being in His company; and ye may all the way to glory see the way bedewed with His blood who is the Forerunner. Be not afraid, therefore, when ye come even to the black and swelling river of death, to put in your foot and wade after Him. The current, how strong soever, cannot carry you down the water to hell: the Son of God, His death and resurrection, are stepping stones and a stay to you; set down your feet by faith upon these stones, and go through as on dry land. If ye knew what He is preparing for you, ye would be too glad. He will not (it may be) give you a full draught till you come up to the well-head and drink, yea, drink abundantly, of the pure river of the water of life, that proceedeth out from the throne of God and of the Lamb. Madam, tire not, weary not; I dare find you the Son of God caution, when ye are got up thither, and have cast your eyes to view the golden city, and the fair and never-withering Tree of Life, that beareth twelve manner of fruits every month, ye shall then say, 'Four-and-twenty hours' abode in this place is worth threescore and ten years' sorrow upon earth.' If ye can but say that ye long earnestly to be carried up thither (as I hope you cannot for shame deny Him the honour of having wrought that desire in your soul), then hath your Lord given you an earnest. And, madam, do believe that our Lord will lose his earnest, ye and rue of the bargain, and change His mind, as if He were a man that can lie, or the son of man that can repent? See Lives by Murray (1828) and Thomson (1884), Bonar's edition of the Letters, and Dr A. Whyte's Samuel Rutherford and his Correspondents (1894). George Gillespie (1613-48), who was born and died at Kirkcaldy, studied at St Andrews, and in 1638 was ordained minister of Wemyss, was, like Rutherford, one of the heroes of the Covenant. He showed characteristic fearlessness at the Glasgow Assembly that same year; was in 1642 translated to Greyfriars Church in Edinburgh; in 1643 was sent up to the Westminster Assembly, where he took a great part in the debates on discipline and dogma, and was accounted a foeman worthy to meet Selden in debate. He represented the highest type of Covenanting theology and church government. Almost all his publications, including most of his sermons, are controversial, impartially confuting Erastians, Arminians, Independents, Episcopalians, Papists, and right and left hand defecters amongst his own brethren of the household of faith; though there is at times a lofty tone of sincerity and fervour that redeems even the barrenness of dead controversies. He had an important share in drafting the admirably clear and well-worded definitions and statements of the Westminster Confession of Faith and Shorter Catechism. Aaron's Rod Blossoming (1646) is a masterly statement of the high Presbyterian claim for His spiritual independence. In 1648 he was Moderator of the famous General Assembly. For his death, see the extract from Wodrow, page 830. The following is a fragment of his sermon in 1645 before the House of Lords in Westminster Abbey; which is diversified with scraps of Chaldee and Hebrew as well as Greek and Latin, and with quotations from authorities as well known as Cajetanus, Grotius, Socinus, Gualterus, and Bullinger, as difficult to identify as Aricularius and Ribera : If it were not so, there should be no sure evidence of our closing in covenant with Christ; for then, and never till then, doth the soul give itself up to Christ to be his, and closeth with him in a covenant, when it renounceth all other lovers, that it may be his only. Shall a woman be married to a husband with the reservation of another lover, or upon condition that she shall ever stay in her father's house? So the soul cannot be married to Christ except it not only renounce its bosom sins, lusts, and idols, but be content also to part with the most lawful creature-comforts for his sake: Forget also thine own people, and thy father's house,' Psal. xlv. 10. The repudiating of creature-comforts and a covenant with Christ go hand in hand together, Isa. lv. 2, 3. Nahash would not make a covenant with the men of Jabesh-Gilead, unless they would pluck out their right eyes, intending (as Josephus gives the reason) to disable them from fighting or making war; for the buckler or shield did cover their left eye when they fought, so that they had been hard put to it, to fight without the right eye. This was a cruel mercy in him; but it is a merciful severity in Christ, that he will make no covenant with us, except the right eye of the old man of sin in us be put out. From 'Aaron's Rod Blossoming.' I have often and heartily wished that I might not be distracted by, nor engaged into, polemic writings, of which the world is too full already, and from which many more learned and idoneous have abstained; and I did accordingly resolve that in this controversial age I should be slow to write, swift to read and learn. Yet there are certain preponderating reasons which have made me willing to be drawn forth into the light upon this subject; for beside the desires and solicitations of divers Christian friends, lovers of truth and peace, seriously calling upon me for an answer to Mr Prynne's Vindication of his Four Questions concerning excommunication and suspension, the grand importance of the Erastian controversy and the strong influence which it hath into the present juncture of affairs doth powerfully invite me. Among the many controversies which have disquieted and molested the Church of Christ, those concerning ecclesiastical government and discipline are not the least, but among the chief, and often managed with the greatest animosity and eagerness of spirit, whence there have grown most dangerous divisions and breaches, such as this day there are, and for the future are to be expected, unless there shall be (through God's mercy) some further composing and healing of these churchconsuming distractions, which, if we shall be so happy as once to obtain, it will certainly contribute very much toward the accommodation of civil and stateshaking differences; and, contrariwise, if no healing for the church, no healing for the state. Let the Gallios of this time (who care for no intrinsical evil in the church) promise to themselves what they will, surely he that shall have cause to write with Nicolaus de Clemangis a book of lamentation, de corrupto ecclesiæ statu, will find also cause to write with him de lapsu et reparatione justitiæ. As the thing is of high concernment to these so much disturbed and divided churches, so the elevation is yet higher by many degrees. This controversy reacheth up to the heavens, and the top of it is above the clouds. It doth highly concern Jesus Christ himself, in his glory, royal prerogative, and kingdom, which he hath and exerciseth as Mediator and Head of his church. The crown of Jesus Christ, or any part, privilege, or pendicle thereof, must needs be a noble and excellent subject. This truth, that Jesus Christ is a king, and hath a kingdom and government in his church distinct from the kingdoms of this world, and from the civil government, hath this commendation and character above all other truths, that Christ himself suffered to the death for it, and sealed it with his blood; for, it may be observed from the story of his passion, this was the only point of his accusation, which was confessed and avouched by himself, was most aggravated, prosecuted, and driven home by the Jews, was prevalent with Pilate as the cause of condemning him to die, and was mentioned also in the superscription upon his cross. Nicolaus de Clemangis, a pupil and friend of Gerson, wrote books with the titles cited in 1414 and 1421 respectively. There are some fifteen publications set to Gillespie's account; but his Works (1843-46) were comprised in two volumes. The use of the word 'creature-comforts' in the first extract is much earlier than the earliest recorded in the great Oxford Dictionary. Archbishop Leighton (1611-84) was the son of a Scottish physician settled in London, Alexander Leighton, who was barbarously treated by the Star Chamber of Charles I. A tract against Catholicism and Episcopacy (1624) brought the Scots doctor into trouble, and going abroad, he was ordained to the English Church in Utrecht, a post he soon resigned, returning to London in 1630. In Holland he had published (1628) an intemperate and virulent Appeal to the Parliament; or Sion's Plea against the Prelacie, for which he was now sentenced to be publicly whipped and set in the pillory; to have his nostrils slit, his ears cut off, and his cheeks branded with a hot iron; to pay a fine of £10,000, and to suffer perpetual imprisonment in the Fleet-an imprisonment from which, after eleven years' confinement, he was liberated by the Long Parliament. His son Robert, educated at the University of Edinburgh, resided for some time at Douay, where his intercourse with French friends and relations amongst the Catholic clergy not merely taught him perfect French, but broadened his theological views. He became also an accomplished Latinist, Hellenist, and Hebraist. In December 1641 he was ordained minister of Newbattle, near Edinburgh, and there he delivered the sermons composing his celebrated Commentary on the First Epistle of St Peter. In 1653 he resigned his parish of Newbattle to become Principal of the University of Edinburgh. Soon after the Restoration Leighton was induced by the king himself to become one of the new bishops; chose Dunblane, see, the poorest of all the dioceses; and for the next ten years he laboured to build up the shattered walls of the Church. His aim was to preserve what was best in Episcopacy and Presbytery as a basis for comprehensive union; but he succeeded only in being misunderstood by both sides-to both he seemed incomprehensibly latitudinarian on doctrines of vital interest. Neither Wodrow nor Row conceals his dislike of Leighton's policy and suspicion of his designs; and Leighton, too, spoke of the extreme Covenanters at times with considerable asperity. Weary at length of his uncomfortable position, he went to London in 1665 to resign his but Charles persuaded him to return. Again in 1669 he went to London to advocate his scheme of 'accommodation,' and immediately after accepted the archiepiscopal see of Glasgow, his predecessor being deprived for opposing the 'indulgence.' Next followed his fruitless conferences at Edinburgh (1670–71) with leading Presbyterians. In despair of success he begged for permission to retire, and at length in 1674 was allowed to lay down his archbishopric. His last ten years he spent at Broadhurst Manor, Sussex, the home of his sister, often preaching in the church of Horsted Keynes, where he lies. He died in a London inn, 25th June 1684. His often-expressed wish to die in an inn is recorded by Bishop Burnet (in whose arms he died) in his sketch of Leighton's character, quoted in Vol. II. Burnet said of him that he had 'the greatest elevation of soul, the largest compass of knowledge, the most mortified and most heavenly disposition that he ever saw in mortal.' The famous reply to zealous brethren asking whether he preached to the times, that surely they might 'permit a poor brother to preach Jesus Christ and eternity,' is quite in his spirit, but does not seem well authenticated. Coleridge held him, among all our theologians, as best deserving the title of a spiritual divine;' and based the Aids to Reflection on aphorisms culled from Leighton-surely a remarkable compliment to the modest divine. In one passage in the first chapter of the Commentary, Coleridge says we have 'religion, the spirit: the philosophy, the soul; and poetry, the body and drapery, united; Plato glorified by St Paul!' The pregnant passage is this: As in religion, so in the course and practice of men's lives the stream of sin runs from one age into another, and every age makes it greater, adding somewhat to what it receives, as rivers grow in their course by the accession of brooks that fall into them; and every man when he is born, falls like a drop into the main current of corruption, and so is carried down with it, and this by reason of its strength and his own nature, which willingly dissolves unto it and runs along with it. The sermon on Psalm cxii. 7, called 'The Believer a Hero,' was read 'very often, and always with pleasure,' by Carlyle's friend, Erskine of Linlathen, who earnestly commended it to his friends. The following are extracts: The Fear of God a Resting in His Love. All the passions are but several ebbings and flowings of the soul, and their motions are the signs of its temper; which way it is carried, that is mainly to be remarked by the beating of its pulse. If our desires and hopes and fears be in the things of this world and the interest of flesh, this is their distemper and disorder: the soul is in a continual fever. But if they move God-wards, then is it composed and calm in a good temper and healthful point, fearing and loving Him, desiring Him and nothing but Him, waiting for Him and trusting in Him. And when any one affection is right, and in a due aspect to God, all the rest are so too; for they are radically one, and He is the life of that soul that is united to Him; and so in Him it moves in a peculiar spiritual manner, as all do naturally in the dependence of their natural life on Him that is the Fountain of Life. Thus we have here this fear of God, as often elsewhere, set out as the very substance of holiness and evidence of happiness. And, that we may know there is nothing either base or grievous in this fear, we have joined with it delight and trust; Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, that delighteth greatly in His commandments, which is that badge of love to Him, to observe them, and that with delight, and with great, exceeding delight. So then, the fear is not that which love casts out, but that which love brings in. This fear follows and flows from love, a fear to offend, whereof nothing so tender as love, and that, in respect of the greatness of God, hath in it withal a humble reverence. The fear of God is not, you see, a perplexing doubt and distrust of His love; on the contrary, 'tis a fixed resting and trust on His love. Many that have some truth of grace are, through weakness, filled with disquieting fears; so possibly, though they perceive it not, it may be in some a point of wilfulness, a little latent undiscerned affectation of scrupling and doubting, placing much of religion in it. True, where the soul is really solicitous about its interest in God, that argues some grace; but being vexingly anxious about it, it argues that grace is low and weak. A sparkle there is even discovered by that smoke; but the great smoke still continuing and nothing seen but it, argues there is little fire, little faith, little love. And this as it is unpleasant to thyself, so to God, as smoke to the eyes. This is the blessed and safe estate of believers. Who can think they have a sad, heavy life? Oh! it is the only lightsome, sweet, cheerful condition in the world! The rest of men are poor, rolling, unstaid things, every report shaking them as the leaves of trees are shaken with the wind, yea, lighter than so, as the chaff that the wind drives to and fro at its pleasure. Would men but reflect and look in upon their own hearts, 'tis a wonder what vain childish things the most would find there, glad and sorry at things as light as the toys of children, at which they laugh and cry in a breath; how easily puffed up with a thing or word that pleaseth us, bladder-like, swelled with a little air, and it shrinks again in discouragements and fear upon the touch of a needle point, which gives that air some vent. What is the life of the greatest part but a continual tossing betwixt vain hopes and fears, all their days spent in these? Oh! how vain a thing is a man even in his best estate, while he is nothing but himself, his heart not united and fixed on God, disquieted in vain! How small a thing will do it; he needs no other but his own heart, it may prove disquietment enough to itself; his thoughts are his tormentors. I know some men are, by a stronger understanding and moral principles, somewhat raised above the vulgar, and speak big of a constancy of mind; but these are but flourishes, an acted bravery. Somewhat there may be that will hold out in some trials, but far short of this fixedness of faith. Troubles may so multiply as to drive them at length from their posture, and come on so thick with such violent blows, as will smite them out of their artificial guard, disorder all their Seneca and Epictetus, and all their own calm thoughts and high resolves. The approach of death, though they make a good mien and set the best face on it, or if not, yet some kind of terror, may seize on their spirits, which they are not able to shift off. But the soul trusting in God is prepared for all, not only for the calamities of war, pestilence, famine, poverty, or death, but in the saddest apprehensions of soul, above hope believes under hope; even in the darkest night casts anchor in God, reposes on Him, when he sees no light. Yea, though He slay me, says Job, yet will I trust in Him; not only though I die, but though He slay me, when I see His hand lifted up to destroy me, yet from that same hand will I look for salvation. ... Well, choose you; but, all reckoned and examined, I had rather be the poorest believer than the greatest king on earth. How small a commotion, small in its beginning, may prove the overturning of the greatest kingdom! But the believer is heir to a kingdom that cannot be shaken. The mightiest and most victorious prince, that hath not only lost nothing, but hath been gaining new conquests all his days, is stopt by a small He returns to his distemper in the middle of his course. dust, then his vast designs fall to nothing, in that very day his thoughts perish. But the believer in that very day is sent to the possession of his crown; that is his coronation day; all his thoughts are accomplished. . . . ... 'Tis the godly man alone who by this fixed consideration in God looks the grim visage of death in the face, with an unappalled mind. It damps all the joys, and defeats all the hopes of the most prosperous, proudest, and wisest worldlings. Though riches, honours, and all the glories of this world are with a man, yet he fears, yea, he fears the more for these, because here they must end. But the good man looks death out of countenance, in the words of David: Though I walk through the valley and shadow of death, yet will I fear no evil, for Thou art with me. None of Archbishop Leighton's writings were published during his lifetime. They consist of the Commentary on St Peter; Sermons, preached at Newbattle; Lectures and Addresses, delivered (mostly in Latin) before the University of Edinburgh; and Spiritual Exercises, Letters, &c. There are editions of his works by Fall (1692-1708), Doddridge (1748), Jerment (1805-8), Pearson (1825), Aikman (1831), and West (6 vols. 1869-75, unfinished). There are Selections (1883) by Blair; and the Aids to Reflection contain very many short passages most admired by Coleridge. John Ogilby (1600-76) attained a sad eminence as a bad poet not so much from the extraordinary demerit of his verses as from the sneers of Dryden (who groups him with Flecknoe) and-later-of Pope in the Dunciad. He was born near Edinburgh, and, while his father lay in the Fleet Prison, reached perfection in the art of dancing-master, figured as a dancer in court-masques, but becoming lame, was employed by Strafford when Lord Deputy in Ireland to teach his children and serve him in his house as amanuensis. The Civil War ruined his prospects, but after 1641 he acquired Latin and Greek, and took to translating. At the Restoration fortune became kinder, and he was made Master of the Revels in Ireland for a year or two; but before the Great Fire of 1666, by which he suffered, was a printer and publisherapparently prosperous-in London. He produced a series of handsome folios on China, Japan, Africa, America, Britannia (Part i.), &c., with maps and fine illustrations by Hollar. His principal poetic achievements were translations of Virgil in heroic verse, and of the Iliad and the Odyssey; also a rhyming paraphrase of Æsop, and some imitations of his own. Of these also magnificent folio editions were issued with engravings by Hollar and others. A play and three epic or narrative poems by him seem never to have been printed. Pope tells us he read Homer in this form with joy when a schoolboy. Ogilby's verses are utterly unpoetic, but they scan tolerably, and are perhaps hardly bad enough to justify the place that has been assigned him in the very lowest depths of the poetical inferno. As poor poetasters have been more leniently judged. Thus Ogilby renders the Odyssey's picture (Book vi.) of the island king's daughter Nausicaa and her companions, on their washing expedition (a sort of 'Caledonian washing') to the river by the shore, just before the shipwrecked Ulvsses presents himself to them : When to the pleasant Fountain they drew near Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty (1611-60), the translator of Rabelais, was a man of somewhat remarkable accomplishments and not a little curious learning, but eminently conceited and eccentric, if not on some points hopelessly crazed. He traces the genealogy of his family up to Adam, from whom he was the 153rd in descent, and by the mother's side he ascends to Eve. The first of the family who settled in Scotland was one Nomostor, married to Diosa (daughter of Alcibiades), who took his farewell of Greece and arrived at Cromarty, or Portus Salutis, in 389 B.C. The preposterous succession of fabulous personages, if not expressly and deliberately invented, seems to have come from the same sources as the fictitious lists of old Celtic Scottish kings. Sir Thomas, having studied at King's College, Aberdeen, and travelled in France, Spain, and Italy, continued strenuously to support the court and oppose the Covenant. He was knighted by Charles I. in 1641, and even after he succeeded to his father (also Sir Thomas), in the same year, was much plagued by creditors for Sir Thomas the elder had recklessly and hopelessly embarrassed the family property, and, probably on that account, had been violently seized and imprisoned 'within ane upper chalmer [chamber] callit the Inner Dortour' by his undutiful sons. The second Sir Thomas accompanied Charles II. into England, and was taken prisoner at the battle of Worcester (1651). He is said to have died of an inordinate and unrestrainable fit of joyful laughter on hearing of the Restoration. It is often said that the heaven-born translator must be a spiritual brother and compeer of his original, that it needs a profound humourist to render another profound humourist, and that Urquhart was the northern Rabelais. Had we nothing but the translation of Rabelais to judge by, we might have been unable to dispute this so far as Urquhart is concerned. But he left us other works, and in none of them is there a single gleam of real humour, but abundance of the very contrary. Fantastical they are, eccentric, quaint, sometimes clever, copious, apt in vocables, and pointedly satirical; but usually merely verbose, magniloquent, pretentious, and tedious, save where the author's vanity and perverse foolishness make us laugh at him rather than with him. In truth, he is precisely one of the types Rabelais most constantly makes fun of Rabelais, Cervantes, and all the humourists —an inaccurate pedant, full of ill-digested learning, whose conceit, vanity, and vaingloriousness lay him open to incessant ridicule and satire, and rise to the level of sheer hallucination. No doubt Urquhart had some points in common with the creator of Gargantua and Pantagruel-hatred of the conventional, contempt for ascetic ideals, an affinity for mythical genealogies and exhaustive lists of nearly synonymous words, and a prodigious command of language, especially of out-ofthe-way words, very familiar and very unfamiliar slang, archaisms, and neoterisms, not to speak of a free exercise of the privilege of coining. But the copiousness in Urquhart's case is not from spontaneous suggestion; it is rather the outcome of the laborious or quasi-scientific imagination, and a painful dependence on the synonyms of Cotgrave's Dictionary, which he discharges at the reader in sheaves and armfuls. He makes odd mistakes, wholly missing the meaning of his original, and trying very wild shots. He constantly takes extraordinary liberties with the text-abridges, alters, and greatly expands. Thus, in a famous His list of animal-cries, where Rabelais had been content with nine, his translation gives us no less than seventy-one, and suggests that he knew the Complaynt of Scotlande (page 215). His style, though far from perfect, is comparatively free from Scotticism, though Scotch words (such as laird and lairdship) and idioms do at times appear. continuator, Motteux, follows him in this, making fiers comme Escossois 'as stout as any Scotch laird.' Motteux, whose translation is naturally more accurate, also arrogates to himself Urquhart's freedom in introducing locutions quite unknown to France of the sixteenth century; referring freely in the translation to Poor Pilgarlick, to Hans Carvel, and other characters equally unknown to the curé of Mendon. Besides his unparalleled translation of (part of) Rabelais, the eccentric knight was author of a treatise on Trigonometry (1650); Epigrams, Divine and Moral (1646); Logopandecteision, or an Introduction to the Universal Language (1653); Ekskubalauron, or the Discovery of a most exquisite Jewel, which is described on the title-page as more precious than Diamonds inchased in Gold, the like whereof was never seen in any age; found in the Kennel of Worcester Streets the day after the Fight and six before the Autumnal Equinox, anno 1651.' This Jewel is a vindication of the honour of Scotland from the infamy' cast upon it by the rigid Presbyterian party, and from all false accusations of whatever sort, and is a panegyric on the Scots nation; it records the exploits of the Scot abroad-of learned doctors in foreign universities, and of gallant colonels who earned renown in France, Spain, Italy, Flanders, Holland, Dutchland, Denmark, Pole, Hungary, Swedland, and elsewhere, under 'Gustavus Cæsaromastix' and other equally glorious commanders. This affords him a chance of giving at great length the (highly embellished) adventures of the Admirable Crichton and others. He set himself to show that it is the 'kirkomanetick philarchaists' of the Covenant who by their malignancy and narrow-mindedness have brought on the nation the charge of covetousness. There are others, too, who are to blame! and of them he speaks with a vehemency evidently bred of personal affliction at their hands, in a breathless (but quite grammatical) paragraph of one huge denunciatory sentence: Another thing there is that fixeth a grievous scandal upon that nation in matter of philargyrie or love of money, and it is this: there hath been in London and repairing to it for these many years together a knot of Scotish bankers, collybists, or coine-coursers, or traffickers in merchandize to and againe, and of men of other professions who by hook and crook, fas et nefas, slight and might, all being as fish their net could catch, having feathered their nests to some purpose, look so idolatrously upon their Dagon of wealth, and so closely, like the earth's dull center, hug all unto themselves, that for no respect of vertue, honor, kinred, patriotism, or whatever else, be it never so recommendable, will they depart from one single peny, whose emission doth not, without any hazard of loss, in a very short time superlucrate beyond all conscience an additional increase to the heap of that stock which they so much adore; which churlish and tenacious humor hath made many that were not acquainted with any else of that country to imagine all their compatriots affected with the same leprosie of a wretched peevishness, whereof these quomodocunquizing cluster-fists and rapacious varlets have given of late such cannibal-like proofs, by their inhumanity and obdurate carriage towards some whose shoestrings they are not worthy to unty, that were it not that a more able pen than mine will assuredly not faile to jerk them on all sides, in case by their better demeanor for the future they endeavour not to wipe off the blot wherewith their native country by their sordid avarice and miserable baseness hath been so foully stained, I would this very instant blaze them out in their names and surnames, notwithstanding the vizard of Presbyterian zeal wherewith they maske themselves, that like so many wolves, foxes, or Athenian Timons, they might in all times coming be debarred the benefit of any honest conversation. The following paragraph, apologising for the plainness of his style in the Jewel, suddenly breaks away from comparative verbal reasonableness, and displays Urquhart in his most fantastic mood as phrase-maker. It illustrates the same perverse fecundity of words, pedantic and otiose rather than witty or amusing, put to happier use in the Rabelais : I could truly, having before mine eyes some known treatises of the authors whose muse I honour and the straine of whose pen to imitate is my greatest ambition, have enlarged this discourse with a choicer variety of phrase, and made it overflow the field of the reader's understanding, with an inundation of greater eloquence; and that one way, tropologetically, by metonymical, ironical, metaphorical, and synecdochical instruments of elocution, in all their several kinds, artifically affected, according to the nature of the subject, with emphatical expressions in things of great concernment, with catachrestical in matters of meaner moment; attended on each side respectively with an epiplectick and exegetick modification; with hyperbolical, either epitatically or hypocoristically, as the purpose required to be elated or extenuated, with qualifying metaphors, and accompanied by apostrophes; and lastly, with allegories of all sorts, whether apologal, affabulatory, parabolary, ænigmatick, or paræmial. And on the other part, schematologetically adorning the proposed theam with the most especial and chief flowers of the garden of rhetorick, and omitting no figure either of diction or sentence, that might contribute to the ear's enchantment, or perswasion of the hearer. I could have introduced, in case of obscurity, synonymal, exargastick, and palilogetick elucidations; for sweetness of phrase, antimetathetick commutations of epithets; for the vehement excitation of a matter, exclamation in the front, and epiphonemas in the reer. I could have used, for the promptlyer stirring up of passion, apostrophal and prosopopoeial diversions; and, for the appeasing and settling of them, some epanorthotick revocations, and aposiopetick restraines. I could have inserted dialogismes, displaying their interrogatory part with communicatively pysmatick and sustentative flourishes; or proleptically, with the refutative schemes of anticipation and subjection, and that part which concerns the responsory, with the figures of permission and concession. Speeches |