« AnkstesnisTęsti »
Wyth humble voyce and also moderate,
Accordynge as by hym is audyence,
And if there be a ryght hye estate,
Then under honour and obedyence
Reasonably done unto his excellence,
Pronouncyng his matter so facundious,
In all due maner to be centencyous.
For though a matter be never so good,
Yf it be tolde wyth tongue of barbary,
In rude maner wythout the discrete mode,
It is distourbance to a hole company
For to se them so rude and boystously
Demeane them selfe, utterynge the sentence
Wythout good maner or yet intellygence.
It is a thinge ryght greatly convenable pronounce the matter as it is convenient, And to the herers ryght delectable,
Whan the utterer, wythout impediment,
Wyth ryght good maner, countenaunce, and entent
Dothe his tale unto them tretably,
Kepynge his maner and voyce full moderately.
This is the costome that the poetes use,
To tel theyr tale with al due circumstance,
The vylayne courage they do much refuse
That is boystous and rude of governaunce,
And evermore they do to them avaunce
Nurture, maner, and al gentylnes.
In their behavyng wyth all semelynes.
And thus the gentyl rethoricyan,
Through the labour of his ryal clergy,
The famous nurture originally began
Oppressynge our rudenes and our foly,
And for to governe us ryght prudently,
The good maner encreaseth dignitie,
And the rudenes also iniquitie.
The famous poete who so lyst to here,
To tell this tale it is solacyous,
Beholdyng hys maners and also hys chere
After the maner be it sad or joyous.
Yf it be sad, his chere is dolorus,
As in bewaylyng a woful tragedy
That worthy is to be in memory.
And if the matter be joyfull and glad,
Lyke countenaunce outwardly they make;
But moderacyon in theyr myndes is had,
So that outrage may them not overtake.
I can not wryte to muche for theyr sake,
Them to laude, for my tyme is shorte
And the matter longe which I must reporte.
OF MEMORY, THE V. PART OF RETHORYKE.
AND the v. parte is than memoratyfe,
The whiche the perfyte mynystracyon
Ordinately causeth to be retentyfe,
Dryving the tale to good conclusyon;
For it behoveth to have respeccyon
Unto the tale, and the veray grounde
And on what ymage he his matter found.
If to the oratour many a sundry tale,
One after other, treatably be tolde,
Than sundry ymages in his closed male
Eche for a mater he doth than well holde,
Lyke to the tale he doth than so beholde,
And inwarde a recapitulacyon,
Of eche ymage the moralazacyon.
Whiche be the tales he grounded pryvely
Upon these ymages significacyon,
And whan tyme is for him to specify
All his tales by demonstracion,
In due order, maner and reason,
Than eche ymage inwarde dyrectly
The oratour doth take full properly.
So is enprynted in his propre mynde
Every tale wyth hole resemblaunce.
By this ymage he doth his mater fynde,
Eche after other wythouten varyaunce.
Who to this arte wyl gyve attendaunce,
As therof to knowe the perfytenes,
In the poetes scole he must have intres.
Than shal he knowe, by perfyte study,
The memorial arte of rethoryke defuse,
It shal to him so wel exemplefy,
If that him lyst, the scyence to use;
Though at the fyrste it be to hym obtuse,
With exercyse he shal it well augment,
Under cloudes derke and termes eloquent.
But nowadayes the synne of avaryce
Exyleth the mynde and the hole delyght,
To coveyt connyng, which is gret prejudice,
For insacyatly so blynded is theyr syght
Wyth the sylver and the golde so bryght,
They nothing thynke on fortune varable,
Whyche al theyr ryches shal make transmutable.
The olde sawes they ryght clene abject,
Whych for our lernyng the poetes dyd wryte;
With avaryce they arose so sore infect,
They take no hede nothyng they wryte,
Whyche morally dyd so nobly endyte,
Reprovyng vyce, praysyng the vertue,
Whiche idelnes dyd evermore eschewe.
Nowe wyl I cease of lusty rethoryke;
I may not tary, for my tyme is short;
For I must procede, and shew of Arismetrik
With divers nombres which I must reporte.
Hope inwardly doth me wel comforte,
To brynge my boke unto a fynyshment,
Of al my matter and my true entent.
A COMMENDATION OF GOWER, CHAUCER, AND LYDGATE.
O THOUGHTFUL herte, tombled all aboute
Upon the se of stormy ignoraunce,
For to sayle forthe thou arte in grete doute,
Over the waves of grete encombraunce;
Wythout ony comforte, saufe of esperaunce,
Whiche the exhorteth hardely to sayle
Unto thy purpose wyth diligent travayle.
Afrycus, Auster bloweth frowardly,
Towarde the lande and habitacyon
Of thy wel faverde and moost fayre lady,
For whose sake and delectacyon
Thou hast take this occupacyon,
Principally ryght well to attayne
Her swete rewarde for thy besy payne.