An English Logonomy by which the discourse of the people is more easily improved, written by Alexander Gil, high master of Paul’s School. Second edition, a little more correct, but more suited to the common use

Document Type	Translation
Code	Gil
Printer	John Beale
Type	print
Year	1621
Place	London

An English Logonomy by which the discourse of the people is more easily improved, written by Alexander Gil, high master of Paul’s School. Second edition, a little more correct, but more suited to the common use.

Printed by John Beale at London

1621

{n. p.}

Dedicatory Letter

To the Most Serene and Powerful Sovereign James, by the grace of God, King of Great Britan, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, etc.

If I view my private duty, I recognize that I owe all the gratitude of my heart to Your Majesty, by whose grace and kindness I have been enabled to enter upon this way of life which I now follow; or if I regard that common duty which all good men recognize is owed to a most learned and excellent King, I have not dared to dedicate to any individual among men, except to Your Grace, {A2} this work, however insignificant, which, among other things, touches so closely upon the honour of our whole race – an honour which you alone uphold and protect. For neither the art of war, nor the knowledge of literature, nor the brilliance of genius, nor the cultivation of manners, nor any skill in anything avails so much for the glory of any nation as discourse, for through this medium a people make all these things known among themselves; they make them known to foreigners; they hand them down to posterity. For this reason, renowned men – leaders, kings, and emperors – have zealously fostered polish and elegance in their native discourse. Julius Caesar wrote to Marcus Tullius concerning the analogy of words. Augustus decreed that men should write and speak in uniform manner. When Tiberius was about to address the senate, he would not, unless he had asked pardon first, utter a single foreign word. And Charles the Great – great in his deeds of war, greater in his virtues – capped his greatest service to literature with this; namely, that he wrote, in emulation of the Greeks and Romans, a grammar of his native tongue, attempting by rules and precepts to render the Teutonic language more elegant and more polished and to strike out everything rude. Chilperic, King of Soissons, added to the French alphabet four characters which he had invented, and in a public edict ordered that they be accepted, taught in the schools, {n. p.} and exhibited in writings. But let me turn from foreign examples and view in sequence many of your ancestors. Edward the Third, the finest flower of the kings of his time, more illustrious in martial deeds and more distinguished in wisdom than any other who has lived, decreed that no one, either in examining cases at law or in giving a judicial decision, should speak in French, a custom introduced at the time of William the Norman, but that the examinations of cases at law,judicial decisions, and other public transactions should be rendered in the English language or in Latin. Oh, if the love of the people had kept pace with the concern of so great a Prince! Surely those skilled in the law would not then display even up to our own time such marks of slavishness branded on the name of the English; nor would the English tongue be in bad repute among other nations, as if it were rude and unpolished, for not one – I dare say – not one of those tongues now in use among mortal men will be found to be either more polished, or more elegant, or more adapted to the expression of every shade of thought, or more fluent. I admit that innumerable faults in writing have crept in, by which the studies of our pupils are hindered, but calling to mind, from ancient times on, the characters of our forefathers, neglected through the indifference of former times, I have so reestablished all of these that any one no matter how uncultivated, {n. p.} once they have grasped the pronunciation of the letters, will be able to comprehend at once and at first glance the true sound of our words. But because all the success of this toil depends on your pleasure alone (for error is neither perceived nor recognized when it has long prevailed, nor is it immediately abandoned without the setting of a strong example), so, whatever I am myself, whatever my works and my efforts, all this I offer, most humbly prostrating myself at the feet of Your Majesty, in order that Your Majesty, in accordance with the excellent judgment of your divine sensibility, may order my effort to be rendered valid, or even unnecessary.

Your Majesty’s most humble subject,

Alexander Gil.

{n. p.}

Preface to the Reader

The origins of the English race and language are one; they go back to the Saxons and Angles, peoples of Germany. Whether the Saxons took their name from the word daggers (which they called saecae) or (which seems to me much more likely) from Ashkenaz, the son of Gomer – I shall not insist. Nevertheless, however they valued their saecae, surely they would not have named themselves Saecasons (that is, sons of daggers), but they might, with the greatest honour to their race and due reverence to its founder, have called themselves Sacasons (that is, sons of Saca) from Ashkenaz, by a slight variation, Sacae. For scholars agree that the descendants of Ashkenaz settled there, and the leaders of the German Jews (whose language has no small importance in distinguishing the descendants of Noah) wished themselves to be האשכנז֙ם, that is, dwelling among the Ashkenazites. Some relate that the Angles formerly occupied the Cimbrian Chersonese between Jutland and Holstein. But this corner is very small to have sent forth a tribe so numerous that it would occupy even as much as two counties of Anglia even though it had left its former abodes completely stripped of inhabitants. Others prefer to say that the Angles inhabited Scania, or Sconia, (which is also a province of Denmark, but bordering on Sweden), and that from there they sought other abodes, being driven thence by the Danes. Or whether they crossed from there into Pomerania, I do not know. But Ptolemy assigns the Angles a region above the Elbe as far as the source of the river Calusius not far from Mesurium (which today they call Magdeburg); thence he places the Suevi and the Teutons to the West and the Saxons at the mouths of the Elbe. Yet not only in Sconia is Engelholme the chief city of a province, but throughout almost all of Germany traces of the Angles are evident. The abodes of the Saxons also are too limited in Ptolemy’s account. For it is agreed that the Saxons extended from the lower Rhine to the Elba as far as the bay of Codanum [Avent . Annal. Boiorum book 5]. And so, if the name Saxony has not been given more recently to that territory which stretches today from Marchia to Misnia and Lusatia, certainly that part of ancient Saxony is very small. For I remember having seen “Hamburg the first city of Saxony”. But it is most probable, and it is the belief of history, that the Saxons, who afterwards brought Britain under their control, were those who settled around the Ems, the Weser, and the Elbe rivers. The reason, however, for their coming to Britain was as follows.

When the Roman power had been broken and weakened, Britain was abandoned by the Romans under Valentinian the Younger. Since the Britons had been slain in daily battle with the Romans, and, too, since all the remaining flower of the people had been called away to foreign wars, their power against the Scots and the Picts was very weak. The Scots, having crossed from Ireland long before, had seized the northern part of the island. {n. p.} It makes little difference whether the Picts were Britons who, shaking the yoke of Roman servitude from their necks, had also migrated there, or whether they were a people originating in Germany and called Phichti from their bravery in war. At any rate, since they were devastating Britain and slaughtering the people almost to extermination, King Vortigern was compelled to summon auxiliary troops of the Saxons, by whose aid he was enabled to slow down and check the attacks of the enemy. Thence, glory redounded to the Saxons; peace came to the Britons. But since the king did not meet his obligations to the soldiers, a treaty was issued by which he yielded Kent to the control of Hengist and the Saxons. This was done about the year of our salvation 450. Later the treaty was secured by giving in marriage to the king Hengist’s very beautiful daughter or his granddaughter, and by the addition of large provinces to the father-in-law’s realm. This the Britons could scarcely endure; they rose in anger; the king abdicated; they demanded King Vortimer in place of his father; and on all sides they gave the call to arms. This reign of Vortimer was very brief, but calamitous for the Saxons; for in the fourth battle, he so dispersed their forces that they retained their footing in Britain with difficulty. When, however, he had been put out of the way through the treachery of his step-mother, Hengist returned with his followers, and what he could not accomplish by valour, he undertook through trickery; for, having called a conference under the pretext of arranging a peace, he slew all the leaders of the Britons almost to a man; he took captive Vortigern, who had been restored to the throne after the death of his son, and in payment for his freedom took the four largest provinces. Thus, courage returned to the Saxons; thus, their strength was restored. But no power endures long. For Aurelius impaired their strength, and the renowned Arthur defeated, broke, and subdued their race, though he did not destroy it. Hence after Arthur, their power grew so strong and their number so increased that they brought almost the whole island under their control, with the exception only of the mountains of Wales and Scotland. Nor did the many victories of Cadwallon prevent the Saxons from driving his son Cadwaladr even to the Armorican Britons. And – either because they wished to preserve the purity of their language and the renown of their race, or because they were waging wars fired by their hatred – they so raged against the very language of the Britons that almost all names of cities, of towns, of villages, of rivers, of passes, of forests, of valleys, and of mountains were changed to Saxon names. Thus, about the year 680 under the Saxons as lords of affairs in Britain, the authority was divided into seven kingdoms. In this heptarchy ravaged by the various blasts of civil wars, now this kingdom, now that, stood out from the others. Accordingly after Egbert as leader of the West Saxons got possession of the power, in order to lull their discordant minds to sleep, he gave orders for the people to be called by one name, English, and the country itself, England. Thus, the name of the Jutes and of the Frisians, who had landed here with the Saxons in no small numbers, entirely sank into oblivion. And although all were called by the common name of Saxons, whence the very island itself was called Saxony across the sea, still, because foremost among the Saxons was that people whom Ptolemy called Angili, we call ourselves Angles. Thus, Egbert had sufficient reason for his name, although some devise other reasons. These were the origins of our race and of our language; and if one is eager to learn more of them, there are numerous histories on this subject. Indeed, Britannia of that most learned and wise interpreter of our past, William Camden, will give you complete information on this matter. {n. p.}

The purity of our speech can be said to remain unchanging because, beyond that change which I often deplore and beyond that which the passage of time is wont to bring to all discourse, no impure mixture of foreign peoples tainted us (and this, so that that unbounded power and wisdom may shine forth from every sound and meaning which can be in the human voice or expressed by it). And although the rest of the Teutons bursting forth here, there, and everywhere in Italy, Gaul, Spain, etc., learned the language of the people, nevertheless, our ancestors always retained the purity of their speech. For however much those long-standing hatreds of the Britons and the Saxons subsided, and however much the people joined by inter-marriages, obeyed the power of one ruler, protected their rights by one law, and cherished the same religious faith (a thing which is the greatest bond of the soul), still, except in the proper names of their families, scarcely a single British word came into common use. A great change of affairs resulted, I confess, from that destruction which the Danes caused and which increased in Anglia from Knut the First to the time of Edward (that is, twenty-five years), and a greater change, from the victory of the Normans; but truly, no change in the language. For since the Danes were a people widely scattered geographically, they thus had widely differing characters, but there was indeed greater agreement in their language with the other peoples of Germany than that which they have today, as is clear, for instance, from Knut’s manifesto on Religion, which is still extant in the Saxon tongue. Moreover, although the Normans had changed their Teutonic speech to French, and William the First tried in every possible way to cause the Angles to speak in the French tongue, still that attempt was fruitless, since after William all interest in the matter flagged. To be sure, a considerable number of the nobles gave their approval to the Conqueror, as did the agents of his pleasures and assuredly his courtiers, who were eager for the possessions of others; and for that reason, many French names survive even to this day among a great many aristocrats. In sports also, in fowling, and in venery, all terms are French; even our native dogs are urged on to the kill in French, unless Tristram, which I read as a young man, has fallen completely into disuse. There are also many legal terms, and some words of general use. But to these a place has been given in the Etymology.

Then, it remains for us to see what change our discourse has undergone from the very passage of time. There are extant in English some very ancient glosses written on the Evangelists about the year of Christ 700, later also some public addresses to the people, Canons of the Church, and the like, dealing with ecclesiastical matters. But I shall take an example – neither old nor new – from Aelfric, who flourished at the time of Edgar, whose reign had its beginning in the year of our salvation 960. His letter to Sigeferth has this beginning:

Aelfric abb: gret Sigeferth freondlice. Me is gesaed that thou redest beo

I, Aelfrick abbot, greet friendly, to me it is said speakest by

me that ic other taehte on Engliscen gewriten other eower ancor aet ham

I teach in my English writing then your at home

mid eow taeth. forthan the he swutelice saegth, that it sie alefd that messe

with you teacheth because that he soothly saith, is alow’d mass

preostan wel motan wifigen, and min gewriten withcwetheth thysen.

priests may take wives, my writings gainsaieth this.

No one is truly English who does not recognize all these words to be his own, {B} however they may seem to be changed by dialect. But if you should read the authors of subsequent times, I do not know whether you would judge that they had divested themselves of a coarse rudeness or rather had decked themselves in a new one. Consider a few lines from those which Michael Drayton, the Dionysius of the English world, quotes from Robert of Gloucester concerning the walling of London by one Ludd. See song 8 of the Poly-Olbion:

Walls he let make al about and yates yp and doun

And after Lud that was is name he cluped it Luds toun.

The herte yate of the toun that yut stont ther and is

He let hie clupie Ludgate after is o nam iwis.

He let him tho he was ded burie at thulk yate,

Theruore yut after him me clupeth it Ludgate.

I know that this rusticity of the poet, who wrote three hundred years ago, seems awkward, but however the usage of discourse may have developed, at the present time it seems not to be at its best unless both accuracy in idiom and an intelligent proportion of foreign words are present.

Up to this point, foreign words in the English language were unheard of. At length about the year 1400 Geoffrey Chaucer, of unlucky omen, by using French and Latin words rendered his poetry contemptible. For this is the stupidity of the unlettered herd that regards with particular admiration that which it does not understand. Thence there developed a new itch in writing and speaking. For since each one wishes to seem a smatterer and to peddle his skill in the Latin language, the French, or some other, so daily he tames some wild beasts of words and teaches frightful and evil-sounding magpies of unlucky birth and owls to try our words. So today we are almost Englishmen who do not speak English and who are not understood by English ears. Nor do we deem it sufficient to have begotten this illegitimate offspring, to have fostered this abomination, but we have driven out the legitimate also, ours by birth, pleasing in its aspect, and acknowledged by our ancestors. O rude speech! Everywhere I hear komon, visεes, εnvi, malis, also virtv, studi, ʒustis, piti, mersi, kompassion, profit, komoditi, kulor, grās, favor, akseptans, etc.

But truly, why in the world have you cast out those terms which our ancestors employed in place of these counterfeits? That native words should be driven into exile? That a new barbaric invasion may wipe out the whole English language? O, you English! I call upon you, I say, in whose veins pulses the blood of our native land; keep, oh keep what yet remains of your native speech and tread in those footprints of your ancestors which are still visible. Or do you yourselves wish to make your language subservient to the Romans, you whose ancestors despised Roman arms? We have laughed enough and to spare at your detestable exaggerations, your corrupt improprieties, and your lamentable tortures. The stories were even the semi-circles and triangles of your twisted feet, – do you wish to have your ears boxed further?

Physician Mirus talks of saliuation,

Of Tophes, of pustules, of febricitation,

Who doth ingurgitate, who doth tussicate,

And who an vlcer hath inueterate. {n. p.}

Thus while his inkhorne termes be doth apply,

Euacuated is his ingenie.

When you chance to hear this, do you laugh, Wilson? And so that we may laugh with you, recite, I beg, the dialogue between Gabritius and Beya, who declaim in a Latin-French-English. And yet I would not wish these things to have been said because I would repudiate all foreign words completely, but because I would restrain the inclination of those who reject customary words pleasing in sound and full of meaning, merely to devise new ones, harsh to the ear, and doubtful in sense. Nor do I think that this is permitted to us less than to other peoples. But just as each nation freely makes use of goods imported from elsewhere, and itself sells its own in order to purchase foreign goods, so also any language can grow rich from foreign resources and can share its own with others. How many things did the Romans take from the Greeks, and after Greece was captured, how many in turn did the Greeks take from the Romans? And if you care to search more deeply into the origins of Latin, you will find that many things were chosen from our language. And in order to remove a few borrowed feathers from Aesop’s little crow, I shall set down a very few examples from many so that you may judge for yourselves from this instruction:

Teutonic				English		Latin			English		Latin
Wein				wjn		vinum,			wag		vagus, a, um
Wust				wast		vastus, a, um			the West		vesper
Wol				wel		valeo					Because it appears in the quarter of the setting sun.
Wollen		to		wil		volo
Wahlen				wallow		voluo
	Wespe				wasp		vespa
	Witwe				widow		vidua	to worrow
	Wurm				wurm		vermis	to wade		voro
ein	Wall		a		al, or		vallum			vado, as, thence vadum a ford
					bulwark
	Weg				wai		via

Here, to be sure, note that you pronounce V according to the ancient and correct sound by which we pronounce W. For no matter how often they used V to express the Aeolic digamma, or thick F, yet in these words and in many others it did not obtain. For V, the neighbour of the letter F, is rendered by β in Greek, as in φλάβιος et Βιργίλιος; in other words, by ȣ, a s in Ουαλης from valeo, ουεσπασιανὸς from vespa. However, I would not deny that our W is derived through V, that is, thick F, or even through B itself, as from the Belgian Wall, Teutonic Waluisch, English whale, Latin balaena. And just as these derivatives from one letter present themselves, so he who has the leisure to test more widely will also find more instances. For just as the dregs of very many neighbouring peoples flowed to the sanctuary of Romulus, whence at length arose one gang of robbers, so also from languages widely separated from each other, at length one Roman language was produced. It was called Latin, because, just as the greatest assemblage of criminals was derived from the Latins, so were very many words. Therefore, since the Latins have admitted our words, it will certainly be proper to repay this and with interest. Thus, today the Germans borrow many things from the Latins, and this not merely in the case of words, but also, here and there, in syntax. {B2}

And since our language so easily admits and voluntarily adopts foreign words, I ask that our monosyllables in like manner may be refined by the addition of polysyllables from other places. And since the lips of the whole world were once one, and the speech was one, surely it should be desirable that the speech of all peoples should be made one and universal by a single communion of words. But if this were to be tried by human efforts, certainly no language would be discovered more suitable for it than the English. But since this is not to be hoped for from human inclination, let us bear ourselves modestly in admitting new words, so that we may seem to be acting under compulsion, not wantonly. This will truly be finally accomplished when our words, neither simple nor compound, shall gain the force and the meaning of foreign diction.

It remains for me to say a few words about the new orthography which I am presenting. And truly, observing that the characters of the Saxons for the most part were not so unlike the Latin letters but that you would easily judge that they were derived the one from the other, and observing, too, that ours much surpassed the Latin in beauty of style and refinement, and furthermore that in all ancient writings our scribes exercised the greatest care in transcribing the words according to their true pronunciation, and finally that faultiness in writing came into existence for the first time when our books began to be printed, I laid all the blame for our bad spelling especially on the latter. For when that far-seeing king, that great patron of letters, Henry the Seventh, summoned hither from Germany the printer Wynkyn de Worde (who was the first to print English writings on the printing press), the printer necessarily had to print our words with the type which was available. Thus, for the first time th appeared in place of ð, g for ʒ, etc. And if a misfortune not unlike this one was also added – that the proof-reading was not assigned to an educated man, but to some employee who could speak both German and English – our orthography was inevitably corrupted; and because no suitable correction was made, this corruption passed into common usage. And I certainly think that this was the sole cause of the corruption. The fact that the Germans do not have those sounds in which the errors were especially made can also be advanced as an argument for my theory. For they do not say thing but Ding; instead of faðer, “father”; what; Ʒosef, “Joseph”; Chansler they say vater, Yosef, was, Kantzler. If you were to correct these faults and allot their own quantities to the letters, you have almost all the errors and certainly those in particular which should be corrected in our writing. Indeed, good and well-educated men have attacked this error, but in vain; notably, Sir Thomas Smith, in opposition to whom Richard Mulcaster brought out a very large book. The latter after the great ruin of time and of good writing decided that everything should be surrendered to custom as if to a tyrant. He was justified in censuring one thing in the knight; namely, that his new characters are not pleasing in appearance or easy to write. This defect a certain priest cured as far as he was able – he who assumed according to custom the name of Chester from the title of office – but, except that he omitted some letters very necessary in usage, he did not intend by his characters to reproduce our discourse, but to remodel it. I am omitting much. For it is not my business to make myself disagreeable by depreciating valuable achievements; nevertheless, I comment on these very few items so that you will not think that I have directed a false charge against a worthy man. If you want to improve our style of writing, you will read both, because the dispute is a matter of sound only. Thus, accordingly, he writes, folio 66, b: {n. p.}

Pre		prai	sed		said	iu		yü
ue		wai	ei		I	iuz		vz
se	for	sai	ov	for	of	uï	for	wï
ðe	for	ðei	aunsuer		answer	uið		with
bue		buoi	riding		rëding	knön		knöun
me		mai

Here you do not have our words, but the inventions of mopseys. Waad, however, has been content not only to stray with the priest, but to go off imagining all by himself. Thus, he did not write Lundon, “London”, according to the general dialect, but Lunun, according to the letter-carriers, or Luun, according to the boatmen. Nor did he permit double consonants in Ʒon, “John”, and ʒustis, “justice”, but held that they should be written Dzyon and dzyustis, and this because the double consonant which begins these words seems to be separated most nearly into these elements. We, however, in writing down words do not separate simple sounds, but rather we assimilate separate sounds into one. Bullokar changed very little, but he faithfully corrected a very great deal. And these are the ones, who, to my knowledge, have publicly claimed the name of orthographer. I, however, maintain that one should agree in this with Marcus Fabius: just as agreed practice in the manners of all good men is the standard for our way of life, so in discourse the custom of the learned is the primary law. All writing will accordingly have to be adjusted, not to that pronunciation which ploughman, mere women, and ferrymen employ, but to that which learned or highly cultivated men use in speaking and reading. And just as skilful painters represent the likeness of the human form so that it imitates the living features, so it will be fitting to write down the words from the living voice so that we may not depart a hair’s breadth from the true pronunciation. But lest you think that I am going to contend about pronunciation as if for our very altars, I grant that there are four things which can somewhat alleviate the harshness of this rule and can greatly aid orthography: 1. Derivation, 2. Difference, 3. Accepted custom, 4. Dialect. Indeed, I wish these to be so strong in indifferent words that they will in no way divert from the truth of the matter.

1. Thus, derivatives follow the writing of the primitives as divjn, “divine”; skolar, “scolar” rather than devjn, skoler, because, in shortened syllables where either one of two sounds is heard without distinction, we shall decide that the origin of the word should be followed. So, on the other hand, derivatives show the orthography of the primitives, as personz, not persnz (“persons”), because the o has not yet disappeared in the derivatives personal and personaliti (“personality”). However, the derivative must detract nothing from the true sound, for I forbid the writing of houer, “hour”; honor, “honour”; honest, “honest”, because in these the h is neither heard nor, indeed, either ought to be, or can be, according to the rule which you will find on page 10; for we say an ouer, mjn onor, ðjn onesti (“an hour, mine honour, thine honesty”), not a houer, mj honor, ðj honesti. Just so an educated man, observing the origin of a word, would write divjn, skolar, onor, kunʒurer (“divine, scholar, honour, conjurer”); but if an uneducated man, following his ears, should write devjn, skoler, oner, kunʒerer, I hold it of no consequence.

2. Difference of meaning is indicated by orthography (as far as it can be done, and the pronunciation permits). Accordingly, when you write our, it means “our own”. If you insert an e, it would be written ouer, “an hour”. For the pronunciation can show this and the meaning requires this difference. Thus, J is I; ei, “eye”; ëi, “aye”; dézert, “a wilderness”; a dezért, “a merit”; but certainly a súbʒekt, “a subject”, and tu subʒékt, “to subject”, are distinguished either by the sense only or {n. p.} by the accent. Nor should this difference be observed in isolated words merely, but also when they are grouped in speech. For we say mj nativitis kast (“my nativity’s cast”), which can be transposed into “my birth is computed”, or “the reckoning of my birth”. Here, therefore, the orthography mj nativiti iz kast, “my nativity is cast”, removes all ambiguity. J kanot drink wjn, “I cannot drink wine”, and J kan not drink wjn, “I can not drink wine”, are rendered more intelligible through orthography. Thus, then, orthography will not completely conform to the pronunciation when a difference of meaning is to be sought.

3. Nor do I indeed give too little deference to custom, since I believe that it should be followed everywhere except where the true pronunciation clearly rejects it. Accordingly, it is the common practice for us to say fόk, fât, bâm, hâf, and tâk, wâk, wið, ov, agenst (“folk, falt, balm, half, talk, walk, with, of, against”); yet, because all well-informed people do not discard the l from those original forms, let us here follow custom and for the most part derivation in fölk, fâlt, bâlm, hâlf, from volk, fâl, balsamum, halb, and in tâlk, wâlk, with, oðer, of, against, merely as a custom of writing, and this, because some educated men read thus, and now and then speak thus. If words beginning with w, namely wit, wïn, wash, wäk, wail, wil (“wit, ween, wash, walk, wail, will”), have k placed before the w, they will of necessity become kwit, kwïn, kwash, kwäk, kwail, kwil; nevertheless, because I prefer to sever custom gradually rather than to cut it off suddenly, I do not object to your writing quit, quïn, quash, quäk, quail, quil. Proper names also will, because of a certain privilege of rank, retain their accustomed rule of writing, no matter how commonly the form may be distorted by error, as d’Aubigne, d’Anuers, d’Aubridg-Court, Redklif, Cotswöuld (“d’Aubigné, d’Anvers, d’Aubridge-Court, Redcliffe, Cotswold”), etc., which the crowd calls Daubnei, Dauers, Dabskot, Ratlif, Cotsal.

4. Nay even when the dialect varies, I easily admit that writing itself is the least consistent, as, farðer, furðer, or furder; murðer, or murder; tu flj, or tu flï (“to fly”); tu flït, or tu flöt (“to fleet”), etc. Moreover, in a free style there is no place for dialects other than the common one, except where the exigency of the matter demands it. Irregularity of all sorts is moderately granted to the poets.

There remain the things which I should like to ask of you, reader: first, that if in following the path of these studies, I have mistakenly wandered off from the royal road of truth, either you will set that right in accordance with your sincerity, or will admonish me; second, that you will not reproach me too hastily for my faulty writing, especially since I have granted that there are four things which can change writing somewhat. Consequently, I shall not add anything concerning accent or irregularity until I come to that point. One thing perhaps you may complain of is that now and again double consonants are lacking, as in fatter, better, robbing, a fault indeed which we so approve of that (if ever the time comes for that discussion) we shall show that those double consonants are an error which is not to be permitted in orthography except in such places where we may be permitted to defend the error either because of composition or because of irregularity. But for the time being, I dismiss these matters lest I may seem to contrive delay in your studies by a too long-drawn-out preface.

Farewell.

{n. p.}

Synopsis of the Book

The English Logonomy has four parts

incorrect in their

pronunciation, Chap. 1

1. Grammar,

composition, Chap. 2

which concerns

simple

vowels, Chap. 3

the use of letters

correct, which is

consonants, Chap. 4

in letters that are

proper, Chap. 5

connected in

diphthongs

improper when from dialects, Chap. 6

syllables and words, Chap. 7

primitives

words

foreign, Chap. 8

derivatives

compounds

native

comparatives

Chap. 9

2. Etymology,

diminuitives

which concerns

common

Chap. 10

3. kinds of words

noun

proper

personal

Chap. 11

3 kinds

verb, of which

Chap. 12

there are

3 conjugations

consignificants, which are the adverbs, conjunctions, etc.Chap. 13

absolute, Chap. 14

prose

simple

or a matter of agreement, Chap. 15

or government of

case

one, Chap. 16

Various, Chap. 17

Each is

verb, Chap. 18

1. word

choice 4 figures

supplements

3. Syntax,

of speech with

and faults, Chap. 19

which is

omission

embellished in

use either in

pleonasm

Chap. 20

enallage

Poetic

sound, Chap. 21

Chap. 24

2. sentence order and meaning, Chap. 22

3. excellences, Chap. 23

grammatical

Chap. 25

accent

rhetorical

quantity of syllables,

Chap. 26

4. Prosody in

metre, i.e.

either in

feet

poetry

rhymed, Chap. 27

imitating Latin, Chap. 28

{n. p.}

Correct these errors before reading

Syllables which are by nature common can be written with either long or short vowels, indiscriminately, as shal or shâl, dans or dâns, bi bï, ded dëd, whöm whüm, moðer muðer, sai säi, mai mäi, etc. Certain words differ in accent, as has been said, and so you will in no wise stumble over these. Minor errors you will overlook, and those which are here identified and acknowledged you will correct: page 3, line 24, laqueus; p. 4, line 12, bloud, 1. 14, querela; page 6, line 23, distinguerent; page 7, line16, boum; page 8, line 1, sensim; page 9, line 17, ð, inuħ; page 13, line 18, ðëz sëz; page 14, line 2, venefica, line 7, dëz, line 13, Hebr.; page 15,the next to the last line, index; page 17, line 27, ἰσχνότητα; page 18, line 16 and line 18, quaedam; page 19, line 1, pëz; page 21, line 24, knöun, säving; page 16, last line, ðï; page 23, line 9, Konfounded; page 24, line 19, fürth, line 22, trïz; page 27, line 13, ëzment, line 21, tëch, tëcher, line 22, hëring; page 30, line 27, Konsul, last line, ʒenerus; page 33, line 3, forswër; page 34, lines 11 andd 22, lëst; page 36, last line, quatenus; page 37, line 3, ëvs, line 7, nonae, line 8, bouelz, line 20, tü, line 23, göuld, and everywhere else that it occurs together with similar words, such as föuld, höuld, etc., line 24, whët, line 27, brëd; page 38, last line, argentea; page 40, line 1, mutnz, vëlz; page 41, line 13, pëz; page 42, line 28, secundae: page 43, line 15, lëvz; page 48, line 23, dipt; page 50, line 5, swër; page 51, line 18, häv, line 26, indicentur; page 57, line 4, Imperat; page 59, line 1, luvz; page 60, line 4, abröd, line 20, rëd; page 62, line 11, klöðier; page 65, line 27, âlðoħ; page 71, line 8 [43]; page 76, line 5, tëch; page 77, line 26, unëzi; page 83, line 3, höp; page 84, line 13, mï; page 86, next to the last line, Etiam; page 87, line 10, grandes; page 93, last line, quia tu tëch doceo; page 96, line 24, universam; page 99, line 3, etiam, line 8, prezum’d; page 100, line 10, sive, line 26, nou; page 101 line 17, pleʒez; page 103, line 25 and last line shï; page 109, line 4, saepius; page 111, line 16, mjħt; page 112, line 5, gaðer; page 115, line 13, principes; page 128, line 4, sakklόth; page 133, line 17, forgόtn, forgíving; page 136, line 4, Kvpid; page 144, line 18, ljvz.

Moreover, you will correct as often as there is need the use of the character I for J. Finally, in chapter 25 and following, the marking of the accents will earn pardon for the quantity of the long vowels. {n. p.}

Logonomy of the English Language
What it is, its parts, letters Chapter I Logonomy is the understanding of the rules by which an unknown language can be more easily learned. When observed according to the practice of the Latin language, it is Latin; according to the practice of the English language, it is English; and so on. There are four parts: Grammar, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody. Grammar or “Literatoria” (as others prefer to call it) is that part of Logonomy which concerns the number and quality of simple and connected letters. And though much error clearly occurs in our use of letters, nevertheless since it is commonly the practice to write and read thus incorrectly, we shall explain in a few words first how far incorrect usage has gone and next how far it ought to go. {A}
The English have the same number, the same order, and the same pronunciation of letters, if they are considered by themselves, as the Germans and almost all the other better-known Europeans have. But in the case of c, g, i, s, t, and y, a few observations should be made. C before a, o, u, or a consonant has the same sound as k; before e, i, and apostrophe (’ ), it is sounded the same as s, as for instance the Germans pronounce c in cederbaum, “cedar tree”, and in circkel, “circle”. It is also peculiar to the English to express by ch that sound which the Italians express by c in piacevole. For thus we pronounce a chaire, a cherry, a chin, chosen, to chuse. G before a, o, or u is pronounced by the same sound as Germanic g, just as it is before the consonants in gloria and gratia; before e or i, as the Italians regularly pronounce g in gentile and giovane, and just as we sound g in a giant, a gibet, ginger, gentle, changed, and so on. This sound other people perhaps express by dzy; we express it by simple g before e or i, but before a, o, u always by the consonant j. For in these cases, g and j have the same sound. Jason, Dzyason Geffrey, Dzyeffrey Ginger, dzyindzyer Joseph, Dzyosef A judge, a dzyudzyh, where dg also sounds after u just as j does before it. However, it is not always true that g before e and i is pronounced thus, for we say to get and to give, and a few others, a legitimate and primitive pronunciation. But j before a, o, and u varies in no instance; for that sound which the Germans give to I before a vowel, we write as y {n. p.} not as j. For their Jung, is our young, having the same meaning and sound. In the case of s one thing should be noted; namely, that the English express the frothy Hebrew character ש by sh, the Germans by sch. For example, to the English the word is shame; to the Germans, it is scham; the Spanish, however, express this sound by x, as in debaxo, “below”. Chapter II
On the Composition of Letters
The first thing to be observed in the composition of syllables is that not all vowels are always pronounced, and secondly, that not exactly the same pronunciation is obtained in all of them. For although the length of the quantity may differ in a long syllable or in a short one, and not the similarity of sound, nevertheless the same vowel sometimes sounds somewhat broad, sometimes briefer, as in Hall, “Hal”; hale, “drag”; and hall, “a court”.The a in the first two words is briefer; in the third, it is almost a diphthong. Moreover the lengthening of a syllable is distinguished in writing in two ways: first, silent e may be added at the end of a word after an undoubled consonant, as in dame, a monosyllabic word, for dam without an e, or damme with an e after a doubled consonant means the mother of some animal; second, a long syllable will be indicated by a double vowel. Moreover, the double vowel may be the same or a different one. In e and o doubled the the sound differs somewhat from the characteristic sound; i.e., in grin and greene (“green”) the sound is in the same, only briefer in the former word and long in the second. So, it is in bucke, “buck”, and booke, “book”: nor is there any difference of sound in these except that which is perceived in the quantity. If, however, the vowel is different, {A2} it should be silent when it is the second element, and lengthened when it is the first, as in seat and meat, because set means placed and met, encountered. And granted that in the case of these long syllables, it is permissible for an additional final e to be added fairly commonly, for we write seat or seate, meat or meate; however, two things should come to our attention here: difference and origin. For sometimes for the sake of difference each method of lengthening is employed, as in boare, “boar”, as distinguished from the verb to bore. In people, moreover, the o is adopted for the sake of the origin, and the word is incorrectly written as a trisyllable pe-o-ple, rather than correctly as pïpl. Thus, we write blood or bloud, from the Belgian bloed, although the syllable may be shortened to blud. But there is irregularity in in those syllables which are written ui. For in some, as in suit and in cuited, that is, mulled wine, the rule which I have stated about disregarding the second vowel in pronunciation proves its potency as in meat; for we read svt and cvted, written with long ψιλὸν, from the French word suire, “to follow”, and cuire, “to cook”. Sometimes the rule fails as in guild and in guiltie; for we say the geild-hall, and giltie. Moreover, in build the groundwork has not yet been laid, for, according to his own particular inclination, one writes buldeth with ὐψιλὸν; another, beildeth with ei; a third, beeldeth with long ï, and to these still a fourth adds bildeth with a short i. Nor has it become the practice for vowels only but also for consonants to be added for the purpose of indicating the origin of a word, for we write a sygne, but we pronounce it a sein; likewise in the case of J disdeigne, we say I disdain. And just as a vowel is doubled for the purpose of lengthening syllables, so is a consonant for the purpose of shortening them. For the same consonant doubled with e at the end of a word adds nothing of importance in the way of strengthening the sound {n. p.} or the syllables, but it shows that the preceding vowel should be produced with a quick sound, as in the monosyllable wanne, “wan”, for to wane is to grow less. Moreover, a consonant sometimes is equal in its power to shorten a vowel, as in backe, “back”; lacke, “lack”, for to bake is to pound, and lake is a lake. Rarely, too, a consonant further removed is added, as in lambe, to distinguish it from lame. Take as an exception to these rules a wombe and to combe, although antiquity and even now dialects abridge the latter by a long ω sound. Moreover, this should be heeded; namely, that these things which we have said are time and again not to be depended upon, because, since there is no authority in our bad spelling, there can be no correctness where each one is wise or even foolish with the same profit. Chapter III Orthography I have spoken indirectly; now I shall indicate the straight path as far as I am able. And, in order for foreigners to learn our language more easily, first, I shall present an alphabet, entire and perfected; then, as often as there is need, I shall subjoin examples of both types, the customary and also the new, so that through the new, foreigners may know more correctly the customary, and our people may see through the customary a new system of writing, and may correct their errors. But lest setting aside the customary after such long usage may seem strange or unusual to anyone, I shall present first of all the reasons for my effort, so that each one may decide in accordance with his own judgment whether or not there is sufficient reason for emending our bad spelling. And since nothing hinders those who wish to know our language more than that great difficulty which frightens them away at first glance, namely, that they see that the one and the same characters are pronounced differently, {A3} and that it cannot be sufficiently clear which pronunciation is rather to be employed, consideration for the human race impels me first of all to aid foreigners and to forge that common bond of human society which is strengthened by nothing so much as by the employment of reason and of speech. Next, since we write one way and pronounce another, no one in his right senses can defend the falsity of our writing. Therefore, I have wanted to sweep away, and if I could, to cleanse that barbarism which has crept into our letters and has now for a whole century become established in them, lest, if we could not correct our errors, we might seem the most stupid of mortals; if we would not, the most slothful. And since women, glassblowers, and painters, who heed only the sound falling on their ears, furnish us a guide to orthography from the true sound of the letters, shall the educated burrow like moles so deeply that they become even more blind? But they do see, you say, but do not approve; they endure, but do not praise. But to what purpose do they see if not to make corrections? And do they endure just so that our language, which is in other respects the most cultured, the most agreeable, the most copious in expression, may endure this continuous barbarism that has been branded upon it? I have sought, I confess, light from the windows whereby I have read dier, which the learned write deare, “dear”; bred, which they write bread, and thence also nakid cum ẏ and bare, for naked come I. Let this then first and foremost be given, established, and ordained; namely, that letters have been invented to differentiate the various parts of a word and its slightest changes. Secondly in a word of single import, there ought to be individual characters, and in like manner there should be a separate individual sound for individual characters lest, if two sounds, or three, or more are given to the same letter, no difference be distinguished in the letters themselves and no difference in the words; and thus that which we ordered in the beginning to be established would be overthrown. In the third place the meaning of words ought not to be changed, and in like manner nothing more absurd can be contrived than the silent vowel, as we have said before, in dame and meate. {n. p.} But the shortness and length of each vowel ought to be sought in itself, not by other means. Having laid down these premises and had them granted, let us now turn to the matter itself. Letters are vowels or consonants. There are five vowels: a, e, i, o, u. All having more than one sound are distinct both in pronunciation and also in writing. The short vowels are to be written in the customary form; the long are to be distinguished by two dots above. I shall speak more clearly about the individual letters. A is slender or thick. Slender a is either short as in talôu, “tallow”, or long as in täl, “tale”; a is thick as in tâl, “tall”. This sound the Germans express by aa, as in maal, “a banquet”; haar, “hair”; we shall be satisfied by the single character, circumflex â. E is short in this form e, as in net, “a snare”; long, is thus ë, as in nët, “neate”, i.e. the adjective trim; the noun neate means every kind of cattle. I is slender or thick. Slender i is short or long: the short is indicated thus, i as in sin; long, is written thus ï, as in sïn, “seen”; thick i, however, is almost the diphthong ei, but because it is a little thinner in sound than if we were to spread it out into e, we shall retain that venerable and vigorous sound and at the same time also the praise which Justissimus Lipsus has recommended to us in Reginâ, in amicâ vitâ, and we shall indicate it by this character j, as in sjn, “sign”. The differenceof all three is seen in win, winne, “to win”; wïn, weene, “to think”; wjn, “wine”. O, little or short is indicated after the ordinary manner; big O hereafter will be written ö. The difference is the one between pol, polle, “an elegant head”, and pöl, pole or poale, i.e., “a pole, a kind of measure”. U is slender or thick: slender u is the verb tu vz, “to use”; thick and short is u as in the pronoun us; {n. p.} and long ü is like u in the verb tu üz, oose, to flow forth, or to come forth gradually after the fashion of water squeezed out by force. Chapter IIII Consonants A reminder What I wrote concerning consonants in the first edition is based on those fundamental rules which no force can overthrow or weaken. Nevertheless, because suitable characters are not at hand in type, and because they seem to be too different from the customary form of writing, I shall conform to the usual as far as I can; and, provided that I have humane readers, I shall obtain an easy pardon, I hope; while if I defer to necessity and custom, I shall express certain simple sounds by a double character. In particular, I warn you that those compound characters ch, ng, sh, th, wh, are replaced by simple sounds only and by simple letters. Though it was necessary to write these in by pen in the first edition, hereafter you will find them printed in their proper form wherever there is a print shop better equipped with suitable type. We raise no objection to the classification of consonants as labials, dentals, etc., but we insist that all of them shall have a single sound hereafter; and we agree with others that b, d, g, k, p, q, t, are mutes. In the case of l, m, n, r, x, z, we make no change. C we discard as being an unfortunate letter, unnecessary, and dubious in its sound. When it is aspirated, however, we admit it to other uses. And since I am contending with ignorance, let me ask this question first: if all the consonants had one sound among all the ancients, who are we to dare in matters of common right to change common principles? Why do we make c, g, t, have two sounds? If we grant that they are mutes, why do we frequently pronounce c and t as s? Why do we give g before e and i a certain barbarous and foreign sound? But {n. p.} we need a remedy, not further suffering. I come, therefore, to those instances in which some change has been effected. D and t are to retain their long-established sound, but because we frequently aspirate them, we shall substitute wherever thick th occurs, the character of our Saxon forefathers ð, and wherever slender th occurs, we shall write it as th itself representing theta θ, as ðis thing, “this thing”. The Latin words veritas and feritas are similar in pronunciation: the shaping of the first letter is the same for each, the upper teeth being pressed down on the lower lip accompanied by a sort of puffing explosion of the breath; in v, however, the sound is thicker and more close than in f. I would dare, therefore, to add something to f, by which its own sound would be indicated, were it not for the fact that custom itself permits us to express that middle β or thick π by the consonant v, as fail and vail, “a veil”. The Greek x, ch, which we never employ at the beginning of a word, but frequently in the middle and at the end, and which we express badly by gh, we shall hereafter write thus ð, as in waiħt inuħ, “weight enough”. Q we wish to outlaw, because k is sufficient for use; moreover, it rarely occurs except in those words which we have borrowed from the Latin. But because it does not change its sound, and is content with one position only – before u – we permit it to march under the banner of the letter k. N is among those letters which we have said make no change, but if k or g follows it, our statement must be altered a little, for, if you consider it carefully, it is not produced so clearly in thank and think as it is pronounced in hand and nön, “none”. But let us not seem to turn up our noses so much that we can not endure anything putrid with age; for the k there is heard clearly, and I do not think it suitable to alter anything bordering on truth – I have only wanted to remind you, not to provoke you against your will. But because there is no sound of the letter g when follows n, a s in {B} thing, and song, but instead clearly another semi-vowel which differs from n no less than from m, the letters ng will be one of those pairs by which I wish it to be correct to indicate a simple sound, as in sing and among. And in connection with this, note those instances in which g is separated in a measure from n under the influence of a following liquid, as a spangl, tu intangl, “to entangle”. W and y have thus far had an uncertain history, for they have not been content to keep their place only before a vowel, but have coalesced with preceding vowels into diphthongs, as in straw for strâu, law for lâu, ewer for ëuer; so also y, in ioy for ʒoi, “joy”; they for ðei, etc.; ẏ also among the ancients has stood for the first person singular pronoun, as ẏ for I. But if any fair judge of sounds should carefully consider the use of these letters among us, he will find that they are consonants. For just as we put an, mjn, ðjn, before words beginning with a vowel, as an unkl, “an uncle”, mjn aunt, “my aunt”, so before w and y at the beginning of a word we employ a, mj, ðj, just as we do before the other consonants, as a water, mj wurd, “my word”. Therefore, so that they may assume their proper position and force, we order them to assume the properties of consonants and to precede other vowels, not to follow, as in these words, a wäst, “waste”; a wel, “a well”; a wjnd, “wind”; a world; wud, “wood”; yarn; a yelk, “yolk of an egg”; yis, “yes”; a yök, “yoke”; yuth, “youth”. And if this is the touchstone for the consideration of consonants, then h also will be a consonant rather than a simple aspirate. For anyone who would write or say Hï brouħt mï tu mjn hors, instead of mj hors, “he brought me to my horse”, would be too fastidious a philologist. Aspirate W is a consonant {B2} which is ordinarily written as wh, although the aspirate precedes. For those words which are written with wh can, and certainly, in accordance with the examples of our ancestors, should be written with hw or hu. For nothing else could be inferred from such a spelling than that which we know from wh itself, as, wïl or uïl, “weel”, and hwïl or huïl, “wheele”. Nevertheless, because our experience teaches us that w and wh are true and simple consonants in the producing of which u only grunts a little and is not heard as a clear vowel, for that reason the w before vowels or diphthongs will have its allotted function, but wh will solely from bad habit, retain its force in what, wheðer, “whether”, and the like. We have now reached sh, shä, ch, che and ʒ, dzyï. The first is indeed a simple sound representing the Hebrew שׂ with the dot on the right; the last, ch and ʒ, are double consonants. For if you put t before that sh you have tsh; if d, you have dsh, except that here s turns somewhat into z. Accordingly we shall represent the first of those three sounds by s, the aspirate by sh though it ought to be written by one symbol only since it is a simple sound, as in tu shäv, “to shave”. The second sound we shall represent by ch, as chäst, “chaste”; in the third instance the Saxon ʒ as in ʒuʒ, judge; ʒuʒment, judgment. You have the sound and a reasonable form, not forbidding in appearance, nor difficult to write. Now behold, then, the alphabet, whole and perfected. If you count the letters, you will find twenty-four: a, b, ch, d, e, f, ʒ, h, i, k, l, m, n, o, p, r, s, t, u, w, x, y, z. If you consider their nature, you will find forty – six more than the Russians have, or the Serbs, or the Croatians. The alphabet follows. {n. p.}
Character	Name	Nature	New use	Old use	Meaning
A. a	a close	short	mal	mal	moll
AE. ä	â close	long	mäl	male	male
A. â	a broad	long	mâl	mall	hammer
B. b	bï bee	Latin b	a briʒ	bridge	bridge
Ch ch	che	ch	tu chanʒ	change	to change
D. d	dï dee	Latin d	dëth	death	death
Đ. ð	ðï thee	Oxford δ	ðoħ	though	though
E. e	Ε	ε’ψιλὸν	best	best	best
Є. ë	Η	Ητα: η	bëst	beast	beast
F. f	ef	φ as in	fjn	fine	fine
V. v	ve	Oxford β	vjn	vine	vine
G. g	ga	no change	gud	good	good
ʒ	ʒi	dzy, j, dge	a baʒ	a badge	a badge
H. h	he	no change	höli	holy	holy
ħ. ħ	eih	Greek ϰ gh	boħt	bought	bought
I. i	i. i	close short	kin	kinne	kin
I. ï	i. ï	close long	kïn	keene	keen
J. j	j. ei	close	kjn	kyne	kine
K. k	ka	no change	kap	cappe	cap
Q. q	qu		quins	quince	quince
L. l	el		läzi	lasie	lazy
M. m	em		mün	moone	moon
N. n	en		nün	noone	noon
G. ng	eng	ng or ע as it is badly pronounced	dung	dung	dung
O. o	o	Oμιϰρὸν	tu kol	to coll	to embrace
Ω. ö	ö	ωμε’γα	a köl	a coale	coal
P. p	pï	no difference	tu prëch	preach	to preach {n. p.}
R. r	ar		tu run	to runne	to run
S. s. s	es		a sun	a sonne	son, or
			a sun	or sunne	sun
Sh. sh. sh	sha	ש sh	shäm	shame	shame
T. t	tï tee	no difference	tü	two	two
Th. th	thï	θ th	a thistl	thistle	thistle
V. v	v	ὐψιλὸν	svr	sure	sure
U. u	u	u short	spun	spunne	spun
ü	ü	u long	a spün	spoone	spoon
W. w	we	German w	wet	wette	wet
wh	whe	hu	tu whet	tu whet	to whet
X. x	ex	no change	ax	ax	axe
Y. y	ya	Latin i before vowel	a yuth	a youth	a youth
Z. z	ez	no difference	zël	zeale	zeal

Its greatest use is at the end of words, az, ðez, sez, as these seas.
Therefore, the letters as related to their sound are these
b	d	g	v	need no example. {B3}
p	t	k	f
wh	as	which		which witch this thistle a tunne a tongue these sawe Shawe chaw iawe	which
w		wich			witch
ð	as	ðis			this
th		thistl			thistle
n	as a	tun			a tun
ng		tung			a tongue
z	as	ðez			these
s		sau			saw
sh		shau			shaw
ch		chau			chaw
ʒ		ʒau			jaw

Also the aspirated h and ħ are similar to Hebrew letters ה and ח, the Greek ( ‘ ) and χ_χ. The rest of the consonants, l, m, r, x, y, and the five vowels are unique, each in its own sound.

Chapter V

Proper Diphthongs

There are either proper or improper diphthongs. I call proper those that are in use among men of cultured speech; and improper those that are only employed in dialects. A is placed before e as in aerj, aerie, “airy”; never before o; fairly often before i and u as in aid, bait, laun, a kind of muslin, and a paun, “a pawn”. Notice that in the latter, au differs not at all from â, for we pronounce with the same sound a bâl, “a ball”, and tu bâl, “to bawl”. But where the a is truly part of a diphthong, the a is reduced to â, as âu, “awe”, and âuger, “an auger”. {n. p.}

E is rarely placed before a unless perchance r follows, for we say an Earl, so that the a is slightly heard. In other cases such as ëgl, “eagle”, ëz, “ease”, tu ët, “to eat”, and the like, the a is wrongly inserted since it is silent. Nor is e commonly placed before i, for we say hëi, as a term of encouragement or praise, ei, “eye”, and also ëi, “aye”, where the sound of the vowel differs slightly from that which is heard in ðjn, “thine”, and mjn, “mine”. E preceded o in the writings of our forefathers, for they wrote and pronounced eower, which today we write your, a custom which I think was practiced in other words where we place y ahead. E commonly precedes u, as in ëu, “ewe”, fëu, “few”, and sëuer, “sewer”, an attendant at a meal.

I unites with e to form a diphthong in dïer, “a deer” or “dear”, as j also in fjer, “fire”, hjer, “hire”, etc. I is affixed to the other vowels forming diphthongs, as in wai, “way”, ei, “eye”, ʒoi, “joy”, tu akquit, or akqujt, “to free or absolve”.

O on several occasions precedes i, as in toiz, “toys”, and in the triphthong buoi, “boy”, but it is boi in the northern dialect. Now and then instead of o we use ü before i without distinction. For we say toil or tüil, “toil”; broil or brüil, “a tumult”; soil or süil, “dirt”.

Before the vowel u we place either Oμιϰρὸν o or ωμὲγα ö, as in bound, sound; ö as in blöun, “blown”, thröun, “thrown”. The same difference is between a bou, “bough”, and a böu, “a bow”, as well as a boul, “a wooden ball”, and a böul, “a bowl”. Ü precedes i in ʒüint, “a joint”; in brüil, “broil”; büil, “boil”; in büi, “buoy”. {n. p.}

And yet in the pronouncination of all diphthongs, the whole sound does not always agree with each vowel. For the preceding vowel time and again seems to sound more noticeably and clearly; for instance, in ai and ei, it so fills the ears that it would be more proper for the i to be an addition than to be fastened to the side of the a and e. Aeri is almost a trisyllable; earl with some people has the value of a diphthong, again ërl is heard, and elsewhere erl. However, we shall discuss later what variation of vowels or diphthongs is caused by the accent.

And now which person that has ears can deny that the English language is by far the most pleasing since so many different sounds, so many letters, so many familiar diphthongs, except the improper ones, regulate it?

Chapter VI

Dialects, and also Concerning Improper Diphthongs

There are six main dialects: common, northern, southern, eastern, western, and poetic. I neither know nor have heard all the idioms of these, but I shall state as well as I can what I do remember. Ai for j is northern, as faier for fjer, “fire”, as well as au for ou, as gaun, or even geaun for goun, “a gown”, and au for ü, as waund for wünd, “a wound”. Northern, too, is the frequent use of ea for e, as meat for mët, “meat”, and of ea for o, as beað for both. Also, among my fellows in Lincoln you will hear toaz and hoaz for töz, “toes”, and höz, “hose”. They also pronounce kest or even kusn for kast, “cast”; fula for folön, “follow”; klöth for kloth, “cloth”; and on the contrary, spokn for spökn, {n. p.} “spoken”; dün for dun, “done”; and tüm for tjm, “time”; rjch for “rich”; ðör for ðër, “there”; brïks for brichez, “breeches”; seln for self; hez for hath; aus for âlso; sud for shüld; J’l, Jst, or even ai’l, aist for J wil, the sign of the future; so also in the rest of the persons, ðou’l or ðoust for ðou wilt, ðou shalt, and so on, hï’l or hïst; wïl, you’l or youst; ðei’l, ðeist, or ðei sal. In ai, Northerners remove away the i, as pä for pai, “pay”; sä for sai, “say”; and sed for said. For u et ü they substitute v, as in gvd-kvk instead of gud kük, “a good cook”. Moreover, they have devised some words in place of the usual ones, such as strunt and runt for rump; sark for shirt; gang for go, and thence gangrel, “a beggar”; and even now, for went they retain from their forefathers yed or yöd, “I went”.

The Southerners use ü for ï, as hü for hï, “he”; v for f, as vil for fil, “fill”; tu vech for fech, “fetch”; and vice versa they use f for v, as fineger for vineger, “vinegar”; ficar for vicar. They also have o for a, as in ronk for rank, the adjective “rancid” or “luxuriant” – the noun also indicates rows in a battleline or others. For s they substitute z, as zing for sin; and Ich for J, I; cham for J am, “I am”; chil for J will, “I will”; chi vör yi for J warant you, “I warrant you”. In ai also after the separation of the diphthong, they prolong the a disagreeably, as to päi, “to pay”; ðäi, “they”.

The Easterners, on the contrary, shorten their speech for the most part, for they say fïr for fjer, “fire”; kiver for kuver, “cover”. They use ea for a, as to deans for dans, “dance”; v for f, as velöu for felöu, “fellow”; z for s, as zai for sai, say. Moreover, our crude mopseys greatly affect that attenuated thinness of pronunciation which shortens all sounds so that they seem to shudder at a and o as much as Appius Claudius shuddered at z. So also ours do not buy laun and kämbrik, a species of muslin, but lën and {C} kembrik; nor do they eat käpn, “a capon”, but këpn and almost kïpn. They never feast upon bucherz mët, “butchers’ meat”, but biccherz mït. And since they are all ʒintlimin, not ʒentlwimen, “gentlewomen”, they do not call their maids maidz but mëdz. Moreover, what I have said about a I now recant, for whenever ô should be heard strongly, they yield the place to a. Accordingly time and again they chirp at me: I pre ya gï yar skalerz lïv ta plë for I prai you giv yür skolars lëv tu plai, “I pray you, give your scholars leave to play”.

But among all the dialects, none savors of such rusticity as the western, especially if you listen to the country people in Somersetshire; for you could easily wonder whether they are speaking English or some foreign idiom. For they retain even now certain old forms, as sax for plough-share, nem or nim, “take”. Indeed, they have thrust in certain of their own words in place of English words, as lax for “part”, toit for “a stool”, and so on. Moreover, they corrupt legitimate words, some in usage, some in pronunciation, as wïz wai for “bridle”; wïtpot for “sausage”; ha vang, “throw here”, or even “catch what has been thrown”; likewise, hï vangd tu mi at ðe vant, i.e. “he answered as godfather for me at the font”; zit am, “sit down”; zadrauħ for assay ðerof, “taste”; hj iz gön avisht for a fishing, “he has gone to fish”. So also they propnounce throttïn for thirtin, “thirteen”; narger for naröuer, “narrower”; zorger for mör soröuful, “more sorrowful”. They also place i before past participles beginning with a consonant, as ifrör or ivrör, for frözn, “frozen”; hav yi idü for dun, “have you done?” Further, they have this peculiarity, that they alter irregular nouns of either number ending in z in order to indicate the number; for instance, höz, “hose”, singular and plural, with the remains höz in the singular, but in the plural becomes hözn. {n. p.} So also pez, “pease”, commonly “pea” or “pease”, with them commonly becomes in the plural pëzn, “pease”.

The common dialect is occasionally ambiguous, for you will hear inuf and inuħ, “enough”; ðai or ðei, “they”; tu flït or tu flöt, “to float”; hâlberd, halberd, or hölberd, “two-edged axe”; and likeweise toil, tüil; soil, süil; bjld, bild, bvld, as has been noted previously.

Among writers only poets are allowed to use dialects; yet they refrain from using these with the exception of the common one, unless they use the northern fairly frequently for the sake of rhythm or enjoyment. For it is the most charming, the oldest, the purest dialect, seeing that it is the closest to the speech of our ancestors. But because grammarians defend their own dialect on the grounds of license alone, more will be said about that when we get to pronunciation.

What I say here concerning dialects, I would wish you to know, pertains only to country people, for among more gentle natures and those more carefully nurtured, there is everywhere one speech, both in sound and in meaning. As for that poisonous and fetid ulcer of our country, I am ashamed to mention it. For that utterly foul dregs composed of begging vagabonds not only has no proper dialect, but an expression or a speech which no punishment of the laws will ever restrain, until the courts are compelled by a public edict to crucify its authors. But because this whole dialect, together with the most dangerous filth of these lees, has been described in an extraordinary book, and because it not convenient to offer it to foreigners, I shall exclude it from my discourse.

Chapter VII

Syllables

I shall pass over the common notions of grammarians about syllables and note in those of our language a unique characteristic and one which occurs in no other language with which I am acquainted; namely, that some syllables consist of consonants only. Of course, in syllables of this sort, one of the liquids {C2} must be present, either with a mute or alone, as in brj-dl, “bridle”, and tj-tl, “title”. And although words of this sort are commonly written with the vowel e affixed at the end, that e is nonetheless silent, just as it is also in those words where only one liquid occurs; as for instance in “oxen”, we read ox-n, not ox-en. For nothing more is heard in the last syllable than is heard in nor when you take away the or. Accordingly, we should write bidn, not bidden; öpn, not open, sadl not sadle. Now this is sufficient grammar to enable you to read; so, try:

Kontent whü livz with trj’d estät,

“Kontent who liues with try’d estate”,

Contentus qui vivit cum experta fortuna,

Nïd fër no chanʒ of frouning fät.

“Neede feare no change of frouning fate.”

Opus habet timere nullam mutationem corrugantis frontem fati.

But hï ðat siks, for unknöun gain,

“But he that seekes for unknowne gaine,”

Sed ille qui quaerit [propter] ignotum lucrum,

Oft livz bj los, et lëvz with pain.

“Oft liues by losse, and leaues with payne.”

Sepe vivit ex damno, et desinit cum dolore.

Please pardon me for translating word for word for your sake and thus veiling the beauty of the Latin expression. But now for further facility in reading, try reading one Psalm or another, this time without interpretation.

PSALM 62

1 Trvlj mj ſôul waiteth upon God: from him kumeth mj ſaluäſion. 2 Hï önlj iz mj rok & mj ſalvāſion: Hï iz mj defens. J ſhal not bi grëtlj {n. p.} müved. 3 Hou long wil yï imaʒin miſchïf againſt a man? yï ſhal bi ſlain âl of yü: az a bouing wâl ſhal yi bï: and az a totering fens. 4 Ðëi önlj konſult tu kaſt him doun from his exſelenſj, ðëi deljt in ljz: ðëi bles with ðëir mouth, but ðëi kurs inwardlj. Selah. 5 Mj ſöul wait ðou önlj upon God: for mj expektaſion iz from him. 6 Hï önlj iz mj rok & mj ſalväſion; Hï iz mj defens; J ſhal not bi müved. 7 In God iz mj ſalväſion and mj glöri: ðe rok of mj ſtrength and mj refvʒ iz in God. 8 Truſt in him at âl tjmz yi pïpl; pour out yür hart biför him: God iz a refvʒ for us. Selah. 9 Svrlj men of löu degrï ar vaniti, and men of hj degrï ar a lj: tu bi laid in ðe balans, ðëi ar âltogeðer ljħter ðen vanitj. 10 Trust not in oppreſion, bikum not vain in roberj: if richez inkrës, ſet not yür hart upon them. 11 God hath ſpökn öns; twjs häv J härd ðis, ðat pour bilongeth unto God. 12 Ælſo unto ðï, ô Lord, bilongeth merſi: for ðou rendereſt tu everj man akkording tu hiz wurk.

Psalm 67

1 God bi merſiful vntu us, and bles us: and kauz hiz fäs tu ſhjn upon us. Selah. 2 Đat ðj wäi mäi bi knöun upon ërth, ðj ſäving hëlth among âl näſions. 3 Let ðe pïpl praiz ði, ô God; let âl ðe pïpl prais ðï. 4 O let ðe näſions bi glad, and ſing for ʒoi: for ðou ſhalt ʒuʒ ðe pïpl rjħteuſlj, & govern ðe näſionz upon ërth. Selah. 5 Let ðe pïpl praiz ðï ô God; let âl ðe pïpl präiz dï. 6 Đen {C 3} ſhal ðe ërth yïld hir inkrës; and God, ïvn our öun God,ſhal bles us. 7 God ſhal bles us, and âl ðe endz of ðe ërth ſhal fër him.

Psalm 96

1 Sing untu ðe Lord a nv ſong: ſing untu ðe Lord âl ðe ërth. 2 Sing untu ðe Lord, bles hiz näm: ſheu fürth hiz ſalväſion from dai tu dai. 3 Dëklār hiz glöri among ðe hëðen: hiz wunderz among âl pïpl. 4 For ðe Lord iz grët, and grëtlj tu bi praized: Hï iz to bi fëred abuv âl Godz. 5 For âl ðe godz of ðe näſions ar jdolz: but ðe Lord mäd ðe hëvnz. 6 Onor & Mäʒeſtj ar biför him: ſtrength & beuti ar in hiz ſanktuarj. 7 Giv untu ðe Lord (ô yï kindredz of ðe pïpl) giv untu ðe Lord glöri and ſtrength.

8 Giv untu ðe Lord ðe glöri dv untu hiz näm: bring an ofring and kum intu hiz kürts. 9 O wurſhip ðe Lord in ðe beuti of hölines: fër bifor him âl ðe ërth. 10 Säi among ðe hëðen ðat ðe Lord rëineth: ðe world âlſo ſhalbi eſtabliſhed ðat it ſhal not bi müved: Hï ſhal ʒuʒ ðe pïpl rjħteuſlj. 11 Let ðe hëvnz reʒois, & let ðe ërth bi glad: let ðe ſë rör and ðe fulnes ðërof. 12 Let ðe fïld bi ʒoiful, & âl ðat iz ðerin: ðen ſhal âl ðetrïz of ðe wud reʒois.

13 Biför ðe Lord; for Hï kumeth, for Hï kumeth tu ʒuʒ ðe ërth: Hï ſhal ʒuʒ ðe world with rjħteuſnes, & ðe pïpl with hiz trvth.

Psalm 97

1 Ðe Lord rëineth. let ðe ërth reʒois: let ðe multitvd of ðe jlz bi glad ðerof. {n. p.} 2 Kloudz & darknes ar round about him: rjħteuſneſ and ʒuʒement ar ðe habitäſion of hiz thrön.

3 A fjer goeth biför him: & burneth up hiz enemjz round about. 4 Hiz ljħtningz inljħtned ðe world: ðe ërth ſau, & trembled. 5 Ðe hilz melted ljk wax at ðe prezenſ of ðe Lord: at ðe prezenſ of ðe Lord of ðe whöl ërth.

6 Ðe hevenſ deklär hiz rjħteuſnes: & äl ðe pïpl ſï hiz glöri. 7 Konfounded bi âl ðëi ðat ſerv grävn

jmaʒez, & böſt ðemſelvz of jdolz: wurſhip him âl yi godz. 8 Sion härd, & waz glad, & ðe dauħterz of Iuda reʒoiſed: bikauz of ðj ʒuʒments , ô Lord.

9 For ðou Lord art hjħ abuv âl ðe ërth: ðou art exalted far abuv âl godz. 10 Yï ðat luv ðe Lord, hät ïvl; Hï prezerveth ðe ſöulz of hiz ſaints: Hï delivereth ðem out ofðe hand of ðe wiked. 11 Ljħt iz ſöun for ðe rjħteus , and gladnes for ðe uprjħt in hart: 12 Reʒois in ðe Lord, yï rjħteus: and gïv thanks at ðe remembrans of hiz hölines.

Psalm 104

Bles ðe Lord, ô mj ſöul: ô Lord mj God ðou art veri grët: ðou art klöðed with Onor & Maʒeſtj.

2 Whü kuvereſt ðj ſelf with ljħt, az with a garment: Whü ſtrecheſt out ðe hevnz ljk a kurtain;

3 Whü laieth ðe bëmz of hiz chamberz in ðe wäters; whü mäketh ðe kloudz hiz charet: whü walketh upon ðe wingz of ðe wjnd. {n. p.}

4 Whü mäketh hiz angelz ſpirits: hiz miniſterz a fläming fjer. 5 Whü laid ðe foundäſionz of ðe ërth: ðat it ſhüld nou bi remüved for ever.

6 Ðou kuvereſt it with ðe dïp az with a garment: ðe wäterz ſtüd abuv ðe mountainz. 7 At ðj rebvk ðëi fled: at ðe vois of ðj thunder ðëi häſted awai. 8 Ðei go up bj ðe mountainz, ðei go doun bj ðe valleiz untu ðe pläs which ðou haſt founded for ðem. 9 Ðou haſt ſet a bound ðat ðëi mai not pas over: ðat ðei turn not again tu kuver ðe ërth. 10 Hï ſendeth ðe ſpringz intu ðe valleiz; which run among ðe hilz. 11 ðëi giv drink tu evrj bëſt of ðe fïld: ðe wjld aſes quench ðëir thirſt. 12 Bj ðem ſhal ðe foulz ofðe hevn häv ðëir habitäſion which ſing among ðe branshez. 13 Hï wätereth ðe hilz from hiz chamberz: ðe ërth iz ſatisfjed with ðe frvt of ðj wurkz. 14 Hï kauzeth ðe gras tu gröu for ðe katel, and herb for ðe ſervis of man: ðat hï mai bring forth füd out of ðe ërth.

15 And wjn ðat mäketh glad ðe hart of man, and oil tu mäk hiz fäs tu ſhjn. and brëd which ſtrengthneth mans hart. 16 Ðe triz of ðe Lord ar ful of ſap: ðe ſëdarz of Lebanon which Hï hath planted. 17 Whër ðe birdz mäk ðëir neſts: az for ðe ſtork ðe fir trïz ar hir hous. 18 Ðe hjħ hilz ar a refvʒ for ðe wjld göts: and ðe roks for ðe kuniz. 19 Hï apüinted ðe mün for ſëznz; ðe ſun knöueth his going doun. 20 Ðou mäkeſt darknes, and it iz njħt: whërin âl ðe bëſts of ðe foreſt du krïp fürth. 21 ðe yung ljonz rör after ðeir prai, and ſïk ðëir mët from God. {n. p.}

22 Ðe ſun arjzeth, ðei gaðer ðemſelvz tugeðer, and lai ðem doun in ðëir denz. 23 Man goeth fürth untu hiz wurk: and tu hiz läbor, until ðe ïvning.

24 O Lord hou maniföuld ar ðj wurks? in wizdum haſt ðou mäd ðem âl: ðe ërth iz ful of ðj richez.

25 So iz ðis grët & wjd ſë, whërin ar thingz krïping innumberabl, böth ſmâl and grët bëſts. 26 Ðër go ðe ſhips; ðëriz ðat Leviathan whüm ðou haſt mäd tu plai ðërin. 27 Ðëz wait âl upon ðï ðat ðou maiſt giv ðem ðeir mët in dv ſëzn. 28 Đat ðou giveſt ðem ðëi gaðer: ðou öpneſt ðj hand, ðëi ar filled with gud. 29 Ðou hjdeſt ðj fäs , ðei ar trubled: ðou täkeſt awai ðëir breth ðëi dj, and return tu ðeir duſt. 30 Ðou ſendeſt fvrth ðj ſpirit, ðei ar kreäted: and ðour enveſt ðe fäs of ðe ërth.

31 Ðe glöri of ðe Lord ſhal indvr for ever: ðe Lord ſhal reʒois in hiz wurks. 32 Hï lüketh on ðe ërth, and it trembleth: hï toucheth ðe hilz and ðei ſmōk. 33 J wil ſing untu ðe Lord as long az J liv: J wil praiz mj God whjl J häv mj bïing. 34 Mj meditäſion of him ſhalbi ſwït: I wilbe glad in ðe Lord.

35 Let ðe ſinerz be konſumed out of ðe ërth, and let ðe wiked be no mör: bles ðou ðe Lord, ô mj ſöul. Praiz yï ðe Lord.

Amen. {D}

ETYMOLOGY

Chapter VIII

Primitives and Derivatives

Etymology is the second part of logonomy and deals with how words are derived one from another. A word is either primitive or derived. I call primitive a word whose origin is not to be found in our language, for example, bäb, “babe”, an infant; fish; tu flater, “to flatter”. For however much we seem to have derived bäb or flater from the French, or however much they and we, too, have preserved them from the ancient Teutons (for one must not think that all the words which we have in common with the French have been transferred by them to our usage, but rather that such words, and particularly those which have not been transmitted from the Latin, have endured from the Teuton ancestors of both the French and the English), and however much we may have fish or vish in common with the Germans, and that perhaps from the Latin pisce, yet because these words have no prior root in the English tongue, they are to be adjudged English primitives. For if we were to grant no primitives to languages except those which cannot be derived from elsewhere, we assuredly would reduce all the wealth of Europe to the greatest poverty. We shall accordingly judge to be primitives those words which do not originate in our language, and derivatives those words formed from these primitives; as for instance, from the original bäbj, “baby”, tu babl, “to lisp after the manner of infants”, a babler, “one who makes sounds like an infant”, babling, “chattering”, a bäbl, “a trifle”. And so with many others.

Moreover, there are two kinds of derivatives: native and foreign. Native derivatives are nouns, verbs, or adverbs. {n. p.} On the subject of native proper nouns, our illustrious Verstegan and the author of British Remains have written so fully that there is no need here to add anything further. But since they wrote in English, I must remind you that almost all first names have been derived from Hebrew, Greek, or Latin, or have been retained until now by the Saxons. Family names, however, are almost all Saxon, with the exception of a few British and some which have remained among the descendants of those who came over with William I from Normandy. Scarcely four surnames can be found. Of the common nouns, some are formed by the ending aʒ, as tilaʒ, “tillage”, poundaʒ, “what is separated into individual pounds”; others, by the ending ment, as ëzment, “easement”, käzment, “casement”; others, by the ending hed or hüd, as lustihed, “lustihead”, from lusti, “lusty”, bruðerhüd, “brotherhood”, from bruðer, “brother”. Some end in nes, as riħteusnes from riħteus, hardines from hardi, “hardy”; others end in ship, as Lordship, from Lord. Moreover, every verb produces a noun of agent ending in er, as lerner from lern, “to learn”, tëcher from tëch, “to teach”. Furthermore, those words ending in ing which come from verbs are both nouns of action and adjectives, as hëring, “the faculty of hearing”, and “hearing”.

Many adjectives are derived by the addition of ish to the root, as fülish, “foolish”, from fül, “fool”, and these are almost inceptive, as sâltish, “inclining to a salt taste”, from sâlt, “salt”. Then there are adjectives in lj, as gudly, “goodly”, from gud, “good”; and an endless number of adverbs, as fäierlj, “fairly”, from fäier, “fair”. Many adjectives are formed by adding i, as hardi, “hardy”, from hard; so also from tröu, “think”, is formed trv, “thought” or “true”, thence trust and trusti, i.e., that in which trust can be {D2} placed. Certain others end in sum, as tuilsum, “toilsome”, from tuil, “toil”; fulsum, “more than enough so that it causes nausea”, from ful, “full”. There are others ending in ward, as toward, adjective and preposition, from tu, “to”, bakward, behind and also backwards from bak, “back”. Likewise, all compounds are derivatives, as wurkman, “workman”, from wurk, “work”, and man; tu understand, “to understand”, from under and stand. Here belong also comparatives, diminutives, and likewise words made from proper nouns and from verbs, all of which will be discussed later.

Some foreign words are taken over as they are; these are especially the ones whose meanings have become known along with the words themselves, such as the Spanish barricada, a kind of fortification made of branches woven together after the fashion of a wide-mouthed jar, and filled with earth; and borracha, a kind of bottle made of animal skin. From the Italians we have for veluto di tre peli, thrï pjl velvet, “three-pile velvet”. Thus, out of necessity we use the words of these nations, rarely for any other purpose except perhaps to indicate a joke, or to air our knowledge, as for example braväda, bona roba, etc. We also borrow some words from the Americans, as maiz, Indian wheat, and kanoa, a boat hollowed out from the trunk of a tree by means of fire and flint-stones. We have reluctantly adopted a very few French words, for when William the I laid claim to his rights by force of arms, in order that his followers, more powerful in war than in learning, might be empowered to give judicial decisions, he ordered the ancient laws of the Saxons, which were written in Latin, to be turned into French, adding some of his own, but in his own idiom. Hence it came about that, except for a few Saxon terms which could be translated neither into French nor into Latin, almost all law terms are foreign, for all formulas for briefs, and almost all those of the plaintiff and of the defendant are Latin; but those who review the decrees of the judges write all of these in some barbarous language, which, however, approximates the French. Still, we have admitted freely numerous words from the French. {n. p.} For since the kings of England held under their control for about four hundred years very large provinces in France, what else could result except that a free and friendly people should transport from there many words which they naturalized along with the people themselves? Thus, we have transferred many words from the French, but especially those in which traces of the Latin language are evident, as sustenans, “sustenance”, maintenans, the addition of reason or of nourishment, from manu and teneo. Redvite, is a recent word, from reduco, meaning a fortification made for a particular time or convenient season. But belonging to us by long usage, are gräs, “grace”, and fäs, “face”, from gratia and facies, many more which have come over to us intact. We have also altered a good many, as impregnabl, “impregnable”, from imprenable from prehendo; so also tu embelish, from embellir, “to adorn”, from bellus, tu impoverish, from pobre, “a poor man”, tu re-kon-per-sev from re-con-per-ce-voir, from capio.

We have made some of our words from Greek, as zël from ζηλος, and we have adopted a great many scientific words such as zodiak, horjzon, hypotenuse, perikranium, etc. Now I come to the Latin words. And if there is room for complaint anywhere, here is the place; for leisure and literature have inflicted a greater disaster upon the English language than has any fierceness of the Danes, or any devastation of the Normans at any time. For besides those very few words which our ancestors seem to have endowed with citizenship, as wjn, from vinum, “wine”, wäst, from vastus, “vast” etc., (if indeed they themselves did not appropriate these words from the Teutons), an endless throng of words has crept in, which the succeeding generation adopted, a veritable itch of forging new words.

From Latin words in tas, there is a great multitude of nouns in ti, as kommoditi, hvmaniti, perspikviti, some of which have undergone syncope, such as bounti, unless you prefer a derivation from the French bonté. So also with the same meaning is larʒis, from largitas. To Latin {D3} words in io is administered freedom of treatment, for if you add n you will find running about the marketplace opinion, kommendäsion, salutäsion. Nor have we made only the legitimate offspring our countrymen, but also the illegitimate and false dilapidäsion, fruisiön, dominion. Those in mentum remove um, as dokvment, monvment. Tudo is shortened to tvd, as multitvd, ingratitvd. Order from ordo is the only one of its kind. Go is variously altered, as virʒin from virgo, marʒent from margo, imäʒ from imago, but virägo remains unmarred. Tura throws away the final a, as literatvr, scriptur. On this pattern we have invented a few, as indentvr, “a bond”, and adventvr, “money or goods invested in an uncertain venture”. But overtvr, “something which is made for the purpose of covering”, from over, “above”, is wholly ours. Those in ans and ens change the s to t, as vigilant, prudent. Conversely antia and entia change to ans and ent as temperans and konfidens from temperantia and confidentia. Certain others, however, add an i, as impotensi, konstansi. Verbals in bilis end in bl, as komparabl, imposibl, inkredibl. Others in lis lose the two final letters, as fjnal, material, meridional. Here belong also sutl from subtilis and metl from metallum. Those that terminate in ca end in kl, as manikl from manica, as well as tvnikl. To these add sanikl from the herb sanicula.

The words ending in ilium are variously altered, as consilium, kounsel; exilium, exjl. A good many ending in tus are shortened by losing the last two letters, as temperat, substitvt, as well as benign or beningn from benignus, and condign or condingn from condignus. Certain words remain unchanged, as konsul, and a great many in or, as doktor, superior, moderätor; so also, many in us as perspicvus, illustrius, kommodius. The latter, however, are comparatives in Latin, but with us, merely positives. We have coined certain words like these, for example, ʒenerus, i.e. “generous”, fämus, “famous”, glorius. {n. p.} which seem more allied, however, to those artificial words of the French ending in eux. To this last class belong also profit and profitabl, “profitable”, from proficio.

Truly indeed the forms of verbs from Latin words are varied. Certain ones are derived from the stem itself, as tu defend, tu defraud; tu redvs is formed from reduco. Those in ico take away the last syllable, as tu magnifj, tu multiplj; for we have thrown tu suplikät, tu explikät to the winds. Certain verbs spring from nouns, as tu impart from pars, tu importvn, “to importune”, from importunus, tu intimät, “to intimate”, from intimus.

From verbals also in tus and sus, we have a tremendous number of words, as from substitutus, substitvt as a noun, and tu substitvt, “to substitute”; so also tu insens, “to stir to wrath”, from incensus, and tu suppöz, “to suppose”, from suppositus. But whereas there are words of this sort in use, those which are made from the stem itself, such as, tu propön, tu expön, etc., have not maintained themselves.

If anyone wishes to inquire more carefully into those which have been omitted here, let him consult the etymological dictionary of John Minsheu.

Chapter IX

Composition, Comparison, Diminution

From the ordinary relationships of words by which etymology is discerned, these remain to be treated. Compounds which we have adopted from other languages become known from their own rules. We {n. p.} form nouns such as göldsmith, horsman, “a horseman”. Here belong nouns in dum for from the verb tu dïm, “to deem”, is made dum, “a judgment or decision”, and thence the compound wizdum, “wisdom”, properly the decision of the wise, and kingdum, “a kingdom”, where a king speaks justice or a judgment. Adjectives also are compounded, such as, trvsïming, “seeming true”, or likewise praiz-wurðj, “worth of praise”. The adjectives abl, “able”, ful, “full”, les, “less”, and ljk, “like”, very frequently lend themselves to composition, and all thus compounded are adjectives, as sälabl, “for sale”, höpful, “full of hope”, höples, “without hope”, warljk, “warlike”. But if the adjective precedes, the whole word will be either a noun, as hâpeni, “a halfpenny”, or an adverb, as ljkwjz, “likewise”. Munger is inseparable and denotes one who has a commodity for sale, as fishmunger, “a dealer in fish”. Compounding is also made with the personals, as self-wild, “self-willed”, and self-ljking, self-indulgence; and again the personals are compounded with each other, as him-self, whatsooðer, whatsoother. Moreover, from inseparable consignificants prefixed to words, there are some intensives, as a and bi: with a are made tu amät, “to terrify”, tu avér, “to assert vehemently as the truth”, and often assimiliated with the consonant of the word, as tu assúr, “to assure”, tu akknöuleʒ, “to acknowledge”, tu adʒuʒ, “to adjuge”; with bi, tu bitäk, “to betake”, tu bithink, “to bethink”. Some also have a negative quality, as un and dis; as, unbid, “unbidden”, unblest, “unblessed”, dispiteus, “pitiless”, tu dispraiz, “to dispraise”. N in these examples is by itself: nauħt, defective or bad, and nöuħt, “nothing”, from not and auħt, “anything”. So also nothing is formed from no and thing, and in use in older times was tu nil, “to be unwilling”, from wil, “to wish”. Mis is inseparable and means badly or wrongly, as tu mistäk, “to understand wrongly”; {n. p.} tu mispläs, “to place wrongly”; mj mjnd misgivz mi, “my mind predicts some evil”. To mis add also for, as tu forswer, “to swear falsely”. Inter or enter from the verb tu enter, a consignificant word formed by us in common with many peoples, is inseparable and always precedes in composition, as interchanʒ, “interchange”; tu intermeddl, “to intermeddle”; tu enterfër, “to irritate the skin with the hoofs”. So-ever, however, always follows and corresponds to the Latin cunque, as whüsoever, “whosoever”; whensoever, “whenever”. We also join Latin inseparables with our own words, for instance, tu return, tu disalou, “to disallow”, tu impair or empair, “to make worse or less”. Among these record tu kounterchanʒ, “to counterchange”. The remaining prepositions according to their meaning are placed before nouns, as outlet, inlet; or before verbs, as tu overtäk, “to overtake”, tu understand, tu withhöld, tu welkum, “to welcome”; or before verbals, as förgoing, “foregoing”, forlorn, abuvsaid, “said above”; or before other consignifications, as without, within.

And since a very large number of our words are monosyllables and freely offer themselves in composition, scholars should apply themselves to this with much greater attention and even with greater advantage so that they may declare their thoughts by an appropriate compounding of our own words, and may make a language already most rich in itself also abundant to the point of extravagance (if they should desire to go that far), rather than hide its native beauty under a foreign disguise. I turn this business over to the scholars only so that the ignorant and the somewhat rash may not exhibit Nereus’ creatures with their turned-up-snouts and necks-in-arched, nor perhaps Pacuvius himself Bombardogladiofunhastaflammiloquentem.

Adjectives and adverbs have comparison. For each it is regular or irregular. Regular comparison is formed either by special signs, or by the formation of the comparative by the addition of er to the positive and of the superlative by the addition of est, as hard, harder, hardest, {E} soft, softer, softest. And this form belongs exclusively to adjectives. The special signs by which comparison is indicated are, for quantity, mör, “more”, möst, “most”; for quality, beter, “better”, best, as, wiked, “wicked”, mör wiked, “more wicked”, möst wiked, “most wicked”; larned, “learned”, beter larned, “better learned”, best lerned, “best learned”. These very signs, however, have a certain irregularity of comparison as do those adjectives which follow: gud, “good”, beter, “better”, best; bad, il, nauħt, “evil”, wurs, “worse”, wurst, “worst”; litl, “little”, les or leser, “less” or “lesser”, lëst, “least”; much, mör, möst, “much”, “more”, “most”, or adverbially, but indicating number mani, mö, möst, “many”, “more”, “most”. In the same way far, farðer or furðer, farðest or furðest, “far”, “farther”, “farthest”; under, undermost; within or inward, iner, “inner”, inermost, “innermost”; without, outward, outer, outermost or utermost, “uttermost”; after, last; nër, nerer, next, “near”, “nearer”, “next”; and njħ, nerer, next, “nigh”, “nearer”, “next”.in the same way litl, les, lest, “little”, “less”, “least”; wel, beter, best, “well”, “better”, “best”; il, badlj, nauħtilj, “badly”, wurs, “worse”, wurst, “worst”; oft, ofter or oftner, oftnest or oftest, “often”, “more often”, “most often”; beför, “before”, former and formerlj, “formerly”; formöst or first, “foremost” or “first”; abuv, hjer, hjest, “above”, “higher”, “on the highest point”, for the adjective hjħ, hjer, hjest, has little irregularity; quikli, “quickly”, süner, “sooner”, sünest, “soonest”, for sün among the majority of people today has a connotation of early evening, though formerly it meant “quickly”. {n. p.}

Active verbals in ing are not compared by adding er and est as luving, “loving”; nor are the passives, as luved, “loved”, tauħt, “taught”; nor those made by adding abl, ful, les, ljk, as availabl, “available”, mjndful, “mindful”, faithles, “faithless”, söldierljk, “soldierlike”; nor those, too, which end in jv, ish, and many which end in lj or us, as fvʒitjv, “fugitive”, grinish, “greenish”, dailj, “daily”, fämus, “famous”. In this class also place adjectives indicating the material, as gôldn, “golden”, stöni, “stony”; also those which indicate time and rank together with many others, as wintrj, “wintry”, sekond, third, “second”, “third”, etc. And however much at one time you might hear stönier or famuser, still, in accordance with the license given speech, such speech will be tolerated rather than such writing praised. Nevertheless, almost all these words which we have mentioned are compared by signs, as mör luving, möst luving; beter or best luved. And just as the Hebrews increase syllables in order to lend greater import to some word, so we increase the quantity of syllables, as grët, “great”, grëet, “huge”, monstrus, “marvelous”, mönstrus, “exceedingly marvelous”, möönstrus, “so marvelous that it strikes man aghast”. Sometimes the import is increased by doubling a word, as, an öld man, “an old man”, an öld öld man, “one far advanced in years”. And this last method sometimes occurs in writing, at other times only in speech.

The diminutives are few in number. There are some, however, in et, as from käs, “a case”, kasket, “a little case”; some in el, as from pjk, “a fresh-water wolf”, pikrel, “a pickerel”; likewise some in kin, as from lam, “a lamb”, lamkin, “a lambkin”; others in ling, as from güs, “a goose”, gozling, “a gosling”, from kat, a cat, kitling, “kitten”. In speech, a diminutive is occasionally formed by the addition of the word tjni, as a litl man, “a man of short stature”, a lïtl tjni man, “a pigmy or dwarf”. The formation of nicknames – Ʒak, “Jack” for Jacob, Ʒon, “John” for Johannes {E2}, and Ʒil, “Jill” for Ʒilian, “Gillian” – is of no concern because they belong to speech, not to writing, and although they may be assigned to the class of words indicating the small, still they are words whose final syllable has been dropped rather than diminutives.

Chapter X

Classification of Words

First the noun

There are three parts of speech	noun	of which the number is	singular
	verb	of which the number is	plural
	consignificants, which include the article, adverbs, prepositions

The noun is	commn		substantive
	proper	all are	or
	personal		adjective

A substantive noun is common when the two articles a or ðe, “the”, can be placed before it. A, as a man; but an before a vowel, as an oversïer, “an overseer”. This article corresponds to the German ein, and to derivatives from unus of the French and other languages (not the numeral but merely praepositive), as a hous, ein hausz, une maison, una casa, a house. Đe is used with both numbers and corresponds to the German article der, die, das, except that it has no inflection. The other types of nouns are deprived of these articles except as is shown in the discussion of syntax. {n. p.}

Irregularities in number

The following lack the singular: afairz, “affairs”; ashez, “ashes”; belöuz, “bellows”; daintiz, “dainties”; dregz, “dregs”; käts, “eatables”; shamblz, “shambles”; sherz, “shears”; sizerz, “scissors”; tongz, “tongs”; ëvz, “eaves”; richez, “riches”; öz, “oose”; hachez, “hatches”; bitson which the anchor rope is bound; shroudz, ratlingz and perhaps other tackling of a ship, thanks, nönz, jdz, kalendz, “nones”, “ides”, “calends”, armz, “arms”; entralz and bouelz, “entrals and bowels”; barbz, “barbs”. Certain words peculiar to hawkers and to hunters are also lacking the singular, as krënz or kreanz, “halters of the hawk or the chaffinch”; ljnz however, belong to the long wings of hawks, such as the smerillus and falcons; ʒesez, “jesses”; lesez, “the excrements of a pig”; fjants, “of a fox”; spraints, “of an otter”; so also floks, “flocks”; nvz, “news”; ʒiblets, “the intestines and the feet of a goose”; petitöz, “the feet of a little pig"; umblz, “the intestines of a stag”; dousets, “testicles, and tender horns”; trinkets, “the tools of wine-cellars with which wine is poured from one utensil into another”. The same is true of herbs: bïts, “beets”; hops; avenz, “avens”; kaperz, “capers”; kresez, “cresses”; sanderz, “sandalwood”, etc., and of the numberals: tü, thrï, föur, “two”, “three”, “four”, etc.

Names of cities, mountains, rivers, territories, months, and likewise of individual men lack a plural, as do the metals göld, “gold”; silver, bras, “brass”; tin, and the grains: whet, “wheat”; rj, “rye”; barlei, “barley”; rjs, “rice”; buk, “buckmast”; malt; but bën, “bean”; fich, “chickpeas”, are read in each number. Singulars have been made from these: bred, “bread”; äl, “ale”; potaʒ, “potage”; bier, “beer”; frumenti, “the juice from wheat”; chaf, “chaff”, and also gras, “grass”; hai, “hay”; the herbs, as fern, kumin, {E3} “cumin”; garlik, “garlic”; jzop, “hyssop”; purslain, “purslane”, etc.; and the compound names of herbs, as ei-brjħt, “eye-bright”; pen-irjal, “pennyroyal”; lädiz-mantl, “lady’s mantle”; sheperdz-purs, “shepherd’s purse”; hör-hound, “hore-hound”; ars-smart, “smart-weed”; liver-wurt, “liver-wort”, etc. Those which have been taken over from other languages remain unchanged, as filipendula, fumiterrae, palma-Kristi, brank-ursina, alkakengi, etc. Certain names of diseases also lack a plural: ðe ʒaundis, “the jaundice”; ðe hed-äch, “the headache”; ðe gout, “the gout”; ðe stön, “the stone”; ðe kolik, “the colic”; ðe timpanj, “tympanitis”, etc. This is true also of the humors, as koler, “choler”; blud, “blood”; flëm, “phlegm”; melankolj, “melancholy”, as well as of the arts, Grammar, Loʒik, “Logic”, Mvzik, “Music”, Ʒeometrj, “Geometry”. Likewise, it is true of the liquids: huni, “honey”; sider, “wine made of apples”; milk, with the exception of water and wjn, “wine”, which share both numbers. Those substances which can be liquefied also follow this form: buter, “butter”; glv, “glue”; grës, sëm, and fat, “grease”; pich, “pitch”, etc. To these add most of the disturbances of the mind: envi, “envy”; foli, “folly”; shäm, “shame”; merth, “mirth”, etc., and many which are wandering about without any abode, as aparel, “apparel”, also the cable of the sail by which it is held fast to the mast, bäkn, “smoked pork”; bâlm, “balsam or melissa”; bran, bumbast, “the cotton-tree”; châk, “native lime”; draf, draff; dros, “dross”; durt, “dirt”; dung; dust; flesh; foder, “fodder”; flax; froth; fud, “food”; hel, “hell”; hemp; insens or frankinsens, “incense”; kanvas, “canvas”; klai, “clay”; luk, “luck”; leðer, “leather”; ljm, “lime”; lëv, “leave”; marl, mäs, “mace”; mjħt, “might”; mud; morter, “mortar”; muk, “muck”; musterd, “mustard”; nothing; Paradjs, “Paradise”; peper, “pepper”; plät, “utensil of silver”; quiet; relïf, “relief”; and very many more, as well as others ending in nes, {n. p.} as darknes, “darkness”; rjħteusnes, “righteousness”, etc. Also a very few ending in tj are read as plural, as komoditjz, “commodities”; privitjs, “privities”; almost all the rest in ti from Latin words ending in tas are singular, as pvritj, frvgalitj, etc. So also are a räs, “a race”, rest, rvth, “ruth”; sivet, “civet”; sljm, “slime”; suil, “soil, filth, or water which a stag or horse agitates”; süt, “soot”; strjf, “strife”; tar, “liquid pitch”; tinder, “kindling-wood”; timber; töu, “the coarse part of flax”; thrift; welth, “wealth”; wizdum, “wisdom”; wud, “wood”; wul, “wool”. There are several others which even in Latin are only singular: truth, faith; glöri, “glory”, etc. And although I would like to note here many others, sun; mun, “moon”; milk; trvs, “truce”; trust; offal, etc., still my boldness in speaking takes hold of me, and cries out that they should be left to the judgment of the people.

For most adjectives there is no difference in number except by grace of the noun which they modify, as, a gud man, “a good man”; gud men, “good men”. But much, everi, “every”, likewise all the ordinals such as first, sekond, “second”, third, are connected with singulars only; sundri, “sundry”, mani, “many”, al, “all”, both, with plurals only.

Certain words coming from one root have different meanings, as koper, “copper”, lëd, “lead”; butt a koper, a lëd, mean brewers’ utensils made of those metals and have a plural; lëdz also is the lead roof of a building and is lacking a singular. Korn, “corn”, is used only in the singular, but a korn, “a kernel” makes the plural kornz, “kernels”; so also a flouer, “a flower”, flouerz, “flowers”, but flouers, “flowers”, a woman’s months, lacks the singular. Bïf, “the flesh of cattle”, mutn, “of sheep”, vël, “of a calf”, are read only in the singular, but a bïf, “a cow”; a mutn, “a sheep”; a vël, “a calf”, have bïvz, mutnz, {n. p.} vëlz. So yuth, “youth”, is only in the singular, but a yuth, “a youth”, has in the plural yuths, “youths”.

A noun has a gender, a case, an inflection. There are three genders: masculine, feminine, neuter. The masculine gender includes all males and everything that is known as masculine, as angels, men, horses, male dogs, etc., the sun also and all the stars which are masculine in Latin, as Aties, Saturn, Arcturus, etc.

The feminine gender includes women and everything that is feminine – mares, cows, female dogs, the moon also, Venus, Virgo, Cassiopeia, etc. Moreover, by personification, the winds are considered to be masculine; islands, provinces, cities are feminine. Rivers are partly masculine, as Isis, the Ouz, Abus, the Humber; partly feminine, as Tems, the Thames, Sabrina, the Severn, etc.

All inanimate objects are considered neuter.

There are six cases, which are not distinguished by their ending, but either by position or by the addition of signs. The nominative precedes the verb; the accusative follows it; the sign of the genitive is of; of the dative, tu, “to”, or for; of the ablative, one of the prepositions in, with, from etc., concerning which more later; the sign of the vocative is ô or ho, but is used rarely and for the sake of emphasis, as

O man! remember ðat last biter thröu;

For az ðetri duth fâl, so ljz it ever löu.

Difference of declension is determined by the formation of the plural from the singular. Accordingly, there are three declensions. The first is composed of those nouns whose stem vowel is changed in the plural, as, fut, “foot”; fït, “feet”; gus, “goose”; gïs, “geese”; man, men, as well as the compounds kinzman, {n. p.} “kinsman”; bondman, plural; pluraliter kinzmen, bondmen. If you add these to them

kou		kjn	cow, kine
lous	plural	ljs	louse, lice
mous	plural	mjs	mouse, mice
tüth		tïth	tooth, teeth

you have almost all the examples of this declension. There is, however, a double irregularity here; (1) an aberration when the word is altered more than is proper, as in wuman, “woman”, wimen, “women”, where both vowels are changed, as well as bruðer, “brother”; breðren or breðern, “brethren”; and (2) a lack when the form is the same in both numbers, as shïp, singular or plural “sheep”, dïer, singular or plural “deer”; höz, singular or plural “hose”; pëz, singular or plural “pease”; odz, singular or plural “odds”; swjn, singular or plural “swine”; pïpl, singular or plural “people”, and perhaps others of those which we have said are irregular in number.

The second declension is composed of nouns which add s or z to the singular in the plural, as

ship	ship	Plural	ships	ships
bük	book		büks	books
thing	thing		thingz	things
së	sea		sëz	seas

And here, too, there is a twofold irregularity. One is of nouns ending in f, which commonly before z change the f to v in the plural, as wjf, “wife”, ljf, “life”, lëf, “leaf”; bïf, “beef”, plural wjvz, ljvz, lëvz, bïvz. The other great irregularity occurs when a plural word is employed indiscriminately with the singular, as muni or muniz, “money” or “moneys”. In this connection consider some names of herbs, as mint or mints, alexander or alexanderz, “alexander or alexanders”, brambl or bramblz, “bramble or brambles”, malöu or malöuz, “mallow or mallows”, etc. {F} Peni, “a penny”, plural peniz, “pennies”, and by syncope, pens, “pence”, is also irregular.

The third declension is composed of nouns of unequal syllables, whose plural exceeds the singular by one syllable.

Exempla

singular	a glas	a glass	plural	glasez	glasses
	a kis	a kiss		kisez	kisses
	a witnes	a witness		witnesez	witnesses
	a kountes	a countess		kountesez	countesses
but singular	ox	ox	plural	oxn	oxen
but singular	chjld	child	plural	children	children

have a certain irregularity. Thus, those whose ending in the singular is s change in the plural to z, as hous, “house”, houzez, “houses”.

Notice first that all nouns, of whatever declension, vary in one form only; i.e. that when the nominative, accusative, or vocative of each number has been given, the rest of the cases are recognized by their own signs, as

Nominative	ðe witnes	the witness	plural	ðe witnesez	the witnesses
Accusative	ðe witnes				the witnesses
Vocative	ô witnes	o witness		ô witnesez	o witnesses
Genitive	of ðe witnes	of the witness		of ðe witnesez	of the witnesses
Dative	tu ðe witnes	to the witness		tu ðe witnesez	to the witnesses
Ablative	with ðe witnes	with the witness		with ðe witnesez	with the witnesses

Second: proper nouns, whenever they have a plural, are of the second declension, or of the third if they end in s, sh, or in a double consonant such as x, z, ch, or ʒ, as for instance Gil, Gilz, secon declension, and third declension; Talbois, Talboisez; Finsh, Finshez; D’eureux, D’eureuxez; ʒjlz, ʒjlzez; Zouch, Zouchez; Stranʒ, {n. p.} Stranʒez. The nominative of proper nouns taken from other languages always remains unchanged, as nominative Ʒvlius Sezar oppresed his kuntri, “Julius Caesar oppressed his country”; genitive, Đe prjd of ʒvlius Sezar, “the pride of Julius Caesar”. Hï sent leterz tu ʒvlius Sezar, “he sent letters to Julius Caesar”, etc. However, the genitive of possession makes an exception, as Sizeröz eloquens profited ðe kommon-welth mör ðen Sezarz valor, “Cicero’s eloquence profited the commonwealth more than Caesar’s valour”.

An Examination of the Genitive

The genitive of each number can be formed by adding s or z, as ðe ships takling, “the ship’s tackle”; menz manerz, “men’s manners”. Thus, it comes about that the genitive singular in the second and third declension is often identical with the plural, as ðis bükz levz, “this book’s leaves”; ðe witnesez kredit, “the witness’s credit” or “the witnesses’ credit”. Irregular nouns also follow the given rule as far as can be done, as ðe dierz attier, “the deer’s horns”; ljfs shortnes, “life’s shortness”; an oxen yök, “an ox’s yoke”, ðe housez furnitvr, “the house’s furniture”.

Chapter XI

Personals Nouns

There are three personal nouns: of the first person J, “I”; of the second đou, “thou”; of the third hï, “he”. They are inflected thus: {F2}

singular	Nominative	I	I	plural	Nominative	Wï	we
	Accusative	mï	me		Accusative	us	us
	Genitive	of mï	of me		Genitive	of us	of us
	Dative	tu mï	to me		Dative	tu us	to us
	Ablative	from mï	a me		Ablative	from us	a nobis

singular	Nominative	đou	thou	plural	Nominative	yi or (1) you	you
	Vocative	ô ðou	o thou		Vocative	ô yï or you	o you
	Accusative	ðï	thee		Accusative	you	you
	Genitive	of ðï	of thee		Genitive	of you	of you
	Dative	tu ðï	to thee		Dative	tu you	to you
	Abl.	from ðï	from thee		Ablative	from you	from you

singular	Nominative (2) hï, shï, it; “he”, “she”, “it”
	Accusative him, her, it; him, her, it
	Genitive of, dat. tu, abl. from him, her, it,
plural	Nominative ðëi aut ðäi, illi, illae, illa.
	Accusative ðem, illos, illas, illa.
	Genitive of, dat. tu, abl. from ðem.

The relatives and interrogatives are whü, which, and what, and correspond to Latin qui, quis, quae, quid, quod, singular and plural, masculine and feminine:

Nominative	whü, “who”, Latin qui, quis, quae
Accusative	whüm, “whom”, Latin quem, quam
Genitive	of whüm or whüz, “of whom” or “whose”, Latin cuius
Dative	tu whüm, “to whom”, Latin cui
Ablative	from whüm, “from whom”, Latin a quo, qua

Which is both numbers, also all genders, and all cases.

What is also differentiated only by signs and for the most part is an interrogative {n. p.} unless it is compounded, as sumwhat, “somewhat”; whatsoeuer, “whatsoever”; or in a shortened form, as Let us häv what to ët for sumwhat, “Let us have something which we may eat”. Ðis, “this”, masculine, feminine, neuter, and ðat, “that”, masculine, feminine, neuter, are the singular demonstratives; ðëz, “these”, masculine, feminine, neuter, and ðöz, “those”, masculine, feminine, neuter, are the plural demonstratives and are differentiated by the signs of the cases. But ðat, used as a relative, shares both numbers and in the nominative and accusative is used in the same capacity as whü and which, as,

Who cannot contain	himself
	themselves

Can be rendered thus:

Hï, “he" ðёi, “they”	whü, “who”	kannot kontain “cannot contain”	himself, “himself”
	which, “which”
	ðat, “that”		ðemselvz, “themselves”

And likewise

I accuse	him	whom which that	I know to be guilty
	them

	him	whüm	I knöu tu bï gilti
I akkvz		which
	ðem	ðat

Säm, “same”, masculine, feminine, neuter, unchanging in each number, and self, masculine, feminine, neuter, in the singular, but in the plural selvz, “selves”, masculine, feminine, neuter, are appropriative and, like common adjectives, indeclinable. If you add to these alön, “alone”; ani, “any”; oðer, “other”; wheðer, “whether”; ëiðer, “either”; nëiðer, “neither”; sum, “some”, masculine, feminine, neuter (because they indicate neither quantity nor quality, etc., but person as far as is possible), you have all which can be counted as primitives in this class. The seven derivatives follow: from (3) mï, mjn, “me”, “mine” masculine, feminine, neuter; from us, ourz, “us”, “ours”, masculine, feminine, neuter; from ðï, ðjn, “thee”, “thine”, masculine, feminine, neuter; from yv, yvrz, “you”, “yours”, masculine, feminine, neuter; from hï, (4) hiz, “he”, “his”; from her, herz, “her”, “hers”; from ðëi, ðëirz, “they”, “theirs”, masculine, feminine, neuter, which, according to the fashion of common {F3} adjectives have no inflection.

1. Notice: first that you is customarily written thus and so pronounced by some; but yü by the majority. Nevertheless, since this does not yet obtain everywhere, it will be left undetermined for a while. Yï, also, in the plural is pronounced by the heralds as ô yïz, meaning “o you”, one and all.

2. Hï, shï, it, “he, she, it”: however much this difference in gender may exist in the third person, still the forms are all substantive, and although they are sometimes used relatively, they are nevertheless never used adjectively.

3. The possessives mjn and ðjn, “mine” and “thine”, commonly precede vowels: mj and ðj, “my” and “thy” consonants, as mjn ei, “mine eye”; ðj klök, “thy cloak”; mj wjf, “my wife”; ðjn unkl, “thine uncle”.

4. Hiz, “his” remains the same at all times; the others lose z if they precede a substantive, as, her girdl, “her the girdle”, our hous, “our house”, your servant, ðeir richez, “their riches”. However, if the substantive should precede, then z buzzes at the end, as, đis bvk iz hirz, ourz, yürz, ðeirz, “this book is his, ours, theirs”. So also mjn, “mine” and ðjn, “thine”.

Chapter XII

Verbs

Some verbs are personal, some impersonal. There are three kinds of personal verbs: active, passive, and neuter. Conjugation is characteristic of the verb. Moreover, conjugation is the changing of the verb form to indicate the moods, tenses, and the persons of each number.

There are four moods as in Latin: indicative, imperative, potential, and infinitive. In like manner, there are {n. p.} five tenses: present, future, imperfect, perfect, and indefinite. Active and neuter verbs have three conjugations. These are distinguished by differences in the form of the present, imperfect, and perfect indicative. The present is also the same as the present infinitive, which is properly the stem and the base of all forms derived therefrom, because it has meaning without regard to time or person, as tu luv, “to love”, tu tëch, “to teach”.

The first conjugation consists of verbs which do not change the figurative or characteristic form of the stem. By figurative or characteristic form we mean the last vowel or diphthong of the word, as J luv, “I love”, J luved, “I loved”, J hav luved, “I have loved”; J rest, “I rest”, J rested, “I rested”, J hav rested, “I have rested”; J öpn, “I open”, J öpned, “I opened”, J hav öpned, “I have opened”. Nor is the form of the stem ever at any time altered beyond these tenses, and for that reason there can be no more or no less than three conjugations.

To this conjugation belong almost all derivatives, both native and foreign. And since almost every common noun which is truly ours, whether it be substantive or adjective, blossoms out into some verb, it is easy to conclude how vast is the multitude of verbs that are here stored away, as tu wurship, “to worship”, from wurship, tu klök, “to cloak”, from klök, “a cloak”, tu fish, “to fish”, from fish; so also from hous, “house”, bed, börd, “a board”, come tu houz, tu bed, tu börd, “to receive into one’s house, bed, and at one’s table”. However, the stem letter is changed in a few verbs, as for instance, from flour, “flower”, come tu flour, “to flour”, and tu flurish, “to flourish”, the first being active, “to produce flowers”; the second, neuter. Likewise from frost comes tu frïz, “to freeze”; from göld, “gold”, tu gild, “to gild”; from fal, “fall”, tu fel, “to fell”. In the same way, verbs are are born from adjectives, as from short, tu shortn, “to shorten”; from hard, tu hardn, “to harden”. Certain of these {n. p.} also vary somewhat, as from ful, “full”, tu fil, “to fill”. But J wurk, “I work”, J wröuħt, “I wrought”, from wvrk, “work”, belong to the second conjugation.

In this class place all those verbs whose characteristic is its own peculiar diphthong or ü, as tu wait, “to wait”, tu tüil, “to toil”, tu sound, “to sound”, tu müv, “to move”, etc.

Moreover, almost all verbs taken from Latin also belong here, as tu konsider, “to consider”, tu defend, “to defend”, tu derjv, “to derive”, tu subskrjb, “to subscribe”, tu silens, “to silence”, tu konsort, “to consort”, and those which we said are derived from the supines, tu supöz, tu insens, etc. There is, however, a three-fold irregularity in this conjugation: first, of those verbs which shorten a stem vowel long by nature in the imperfect and in derivatives, as J swët, “I sweat”, J swet, “I sweat”; J rëd, “I read”, J red, “I read”; J bjt, “I bite”, J bit, “I bit”, J häv bitn, “I have bitten”, etc.

The second irregularity occurs in those verbs which change the consonant added to the figurative, especially v into f, for they are mutually subject to change, as J lëv, “I leave”, J left, “I left”; J berëv, “I bereave”, J bereft, “I bereft”. To these add certain verbs ending in nd, as J send, “I send”, J sent, “I sent”; J spend, “I spend”, J spent, “I spent”; so also J lend, “I lend”, J bend, “I bend”, J rend, “I rend”, and from kem (for köm, “to comb”), J kemt, “I combed”, as well as others ending in p, x, sh, as tu dip, “to dip”, tu fix, “to fix”, tu wish, “to wish”, imperfect J dipt, fixt, wïsht.

The third irregularity is complete lack of change, as J kast, “I throw” or “I threw”, I hav kast, “I have thrown”; J kut, “I cut” or “I cut” [imperfect], J hav kut, “I have cut”; J knit, “I knit” or “I knit” [imperfect], J hav knit, “I have knit”; J set, “I place, placed, have placed”; so also J put, “I put”, J shut, “I shut”, J hit, “I hit”, J hurt, “I hurt”, J bët, “I beat”, J spit, “I spit”, for J bet, J spat are dialect.

The second conjugation consists of those verbs which in the imperfect change the stem vowel of the present, as J kum, “I come”, J kam, {n. p.} “I came”, J häv kum, “I have come”; J run, “I run”, J ran, “I ran”, J hav run, “I have run”; J giv, “I give”, J gäv, “I gave”, J hav givn, “I have given”. In these verbs you see the same figurative in the present and the perfect. Sometimes the perfect is the same as the imperfect, as J stand, J stüd, J häv stüd, “I stand”, “I stood”, “I have stood”; J think, “I think”, J thöuħt, “I thought”, J häv thöuħt, “I have thought”; J wurk, “I work”, J wröuħt, “I wrought”, J häv wröuħt, “I have wrought”; J tëch, “I teach”, J tauħt, “I taught”, J häv tauħt, “I have taught”, etc. And although the consonant of the present is often changed in this class, since this occurs often, we shall decide that there is no irregularity. There is, however, an irregularity in those verbs which assume in the perfect the figurative of both the present and the imperfect, as J höld, “I hold”, J held, “I held”, J häv held or J häv höldn, “I have held” or “I have holden”. See the irregularity of the verb tu go after the defectives.

It should be noted that there are certain verbs of the first conjugation which, by reason of their dialect, are also of the second conjugation; as, J wrjt, “I write”, J writ, “I writ”, J häv writn, “I have written”, belongs to the first conjugation, but J wrjt, the common imperfect J wröt, and the northern J wrät, belong to the second. So also J drjv, J driv, J häv drivn, “to drive”, are of the first, but J drjv, J dröv or J dräv, J häv drivn are of the second. Moreover, unremitting care must be taken not to yield place to dialects except the common one, or (as I warned above) the northern, in the case of poets; for there is scarcely a verb which dialects do not disfigure in accordance with the vulgarity of their hearers, for, just as tu lauħ, “to laugh”, is tu laf, if it pleases them, so for the imperfect J lauħed, you will hear J lüħ, or ai lvħ. J kljm, J kljmd, J häv kljmd, “to climb”, is regularly of the first conjugation; among the country people, however, you have for the imperfect I klöm, I kläm, I klum.

The third conjugation consists of verbs which change the vowel of the present both in the imperfect and in the perfect, as, J spëk, “I speak”, J späk, “I spoke”, J häv spökn, “I have spoken”; {G} J dü, “I do”, J did, “I did”, J hav dun, “I have done”; J swim, “I swim”, J swam, “I swam”, J hav swum, “I have swum”. Here belong almost all those verbs common to the second conjugation, and that not because of any peculiarity of our language, but rather because of usage, which dares all things, as I swër, J swör, J hav swörn, “to swear”, is second conjugation; but I swër, I swär, I hav swörn is third. The same thing occurs also in the following, as

Present	Imperfect	Perfect
3	bär
I bër		hav born	“to bear”
2	bör

Present	Imperfect	Perfect
3	drank
I drink		J hav drunk drunkn	by the addition of a letter, “I drink”
2	drunk	J hav drunk drunkn

Present	Imperfect	Perfect
3	wär
I wër		J hav worn	“I wear away”, and so on for the rest.
2	wör

To klëv, “to cleave”, is the only one, as I remember, common to the first and third conjugation, as I klëv, I kleft, I hav kleft, and I klëv, I kläv, I hav klövn.

There is also in this conjugation a certain profusion of the figurative, as

	flv		fled
I flj		hav
	fled		flöun

“I fly, I flew, I have flown”. {n. p.}

	sträk	I hav	strikn struk strukn	and by the additio of a letter
I strjk,I	strik
“I strike”	strök
	struk

	bräk	I hav brökn
I brëk, I	brök
“I break”	formerly brast
	western brïk

Certain verbs are ambiguous; through inflection they come to a certain extent to have one sound, as

	“I sow”		“I sowed”		söun, “I have sown”
I söu		I söud		I hav
	“I sew”		“I sewed”		söud, “I have sewed”

	“I lie”		lai, “lay”		ljn, “I have lain”
I lj		I		I hav
	“I lie”		lj’d, “lied”		lj’d, “I have lied”

Composition sometimes changes the conjugation; as J häv, “I have”, J had, “I had”, is second conjugation, but tu bihäv, “to behave”, belongs to the first.

And since the greatest difficulty with the English language lies in the declension of the nouns and the conjugation of the verbs, which I, the first of mankind, have explained so clearly that no further light, no facility, can be brought to bear upon them, I truly hope that the lexicographers – the Houletts, the Barets, the Riders, the Minsheus, and the rest will not bring out any EnglishLatin dictionary for the populace which will make them want to advance their study of foreign peoples, in which those matters are not carefully stated. In the first declension of nouns the plural should be designated, as a mous, “a mouse”, plural mjs, “mice”; as for the others, it should be accounted sufficient to note second declension or third. Also, if a verb belongs to the second conjugation or the third, it should be inflected, as tu täk, “to take”, J tük, “I took”, J hav täkn, “I have taken” second conjugation; J forget, “I forget”, J forgat or forgot, “I forgot”, J hav forgotn, “I have forgotten”, third conjugation. In the case of the first conjugation, it should be sufficient to indicate that, unless the verb has some irregularity. I would explain this same matter as it concerns irregular comparison if I did not think that I had done this sufficiently well. {G2}

The Formation of Tenses in Active and Neuter Verbs

The present of the infinitive is the stem and root of the rest of the forms, as tu paint, “to paint”.

The present of the indicative is formed from the infinitive by dropping the sign of the infinitive, tu, and by placing before it the first person singular, as J paint. The unique tu bï, “to be”, makes J am, “I am”.

The future in the indicative is formed from the present by the signs shal or wil, “shall” or “will”; in the imperative, by shal; in the potential and the infinitive, by herafter, “hereafter”.

The imperfect is formed from the present by keeping or changing the figurative in the different conjugations, as has been explained above.

The perfect and the indefinite are both formed with the passive verbal adjective and thence by the addition of the sign häv for the perfect, and of had for the indefinite.

The indefinite usually indicates that a thing has not been accomplished, unless it is used interrogatively or after an adverb; moreover, it is lacking in all moods except the indicative. If there is use for it in the other moods, we use the indefinite indicative, or even the perfect potential or the infinitive, as I miħt häv red it indïd, if I had mjnded it, “I might have read it indeed, if I had minded it”.

The conjugation of verbs is very easy, for it is done either by signs or by endings. The endings are est in the second person of the present and eth, in the third. Thus, all difference in endings is found in the singular number only, for the plural is the same in all persons as the first person singular. And except for {n. p.} those forms ending in ing and er, there are no more endings for the verb.

But although we do not have so great a diversity of endings in the forms of persons and numbers as there is in other languages, yet by signs, as in nouns, so in verbs, we set forth everything abundantly according to the meaning of the thought.

Moreover, there are signs, some indicating person, about which I have spoken above, some irregular verbs themselves, or defective verbs. The chief irregular verb is the substantive verb tu bï, “to be”. Since, however, it is inflected by signs, we shall first of all illustrate the signs themselves. There are signs for the tenses and the moods. Those of the tenses are shal, wil, häv, had, dü, did. Shal might be translated in Latin with a verb in the future tense or expressive necessity, and is inflected thus:

future	indicative		hï wï yï ðei
	and	J shal, ðou shalt		shal
	imperative

Potential mood

imperfect		hï wï yï ðei	shüld

	J shüld, ðou shüldest

The rest is missing.

Shüldest becomes shüld’st by syncope, which, indeed, has a place not only among the signs, but also among all the active and neuter verbs in the second person singular ending (as I have said) even to the extent that syncope is thus in use in some, as ðou luvedst, not luvedest, ðou {G3} mai’st, not maiest.

The form of defective is J wil.

Future indicative

J wilðou wilt hï wil	plural	wï
		yï	wil
		ðei

Imperfect potential

J wüld,ðou wuld’st, hï wüld	plural	wï	wüld
		yï
		ðei

If wil means a command, it is active, a regular verb of the first conjugation, as J wil, ðou wilest, hï wileth, “I command, thou commandest, he commands”; I wiled, “I commanded”, ðou wiledst, “thou commanded”, etc., according to the example of the verb tu luv, which is given later.

The form of the sign häv

Indicative	perfect	J hav, ðou hast, hï hath, wï, yï, ðeï hav.
Indicative	indefinite	J had, ðou hadst, hï had, wï, yï, ðeï had.

And it is proper that these should be wholly considered as signs rather than as taken from the complete verb J hav, “I have”, J had, “I had”, J hav had, “I have had”. Still, they can always be translated by the Latin verb habeo; as, J hav loved her, in Latin means, literally, habeo illam amatam; but interpreted according to our understanding, it can mean habui illam amatam or illam in amore habui. So also J had thöuħt, if translated word for word, in Latin means habebam putatum, but for us it means in animo habueram.

So far there remain the two tenses of the signs dü and did, connected with the present active and the imperfect of every single verb if you except the signs and the irregular tu bï. But although the verb indicates that a thing is merely being done, these indicate the quality of the action, its strength, slowness, and the like, {n. p.} as J tëch, “I teach”, J dü tëch, “I am wholly occupied in teaching”; J ran, J did run, “zealously, perhaps under compulsion, or in such a way that I was not walking”. And since in this pattern of speaking there is a certain synedoche, in like manner these signs time and again lack these tenses.

Note that the figurative of the present always remains in the imperfect tense, which is formed with did, and that this is true in every conjugation, as, J thöuħt, or J did think, second conjugation from J think; J forget, J forgat or I did forget, third conjugation. The pattern of the inflection follows:

Present indicative		plural	wï yï ðei	dü
	I dü, ðou düst,hï düth

Imperfect		plural	wï yï ðei	did
	I did, ðou didst, hï did

The Signs of the Moods

The indicative lacks signs, but indicates that a thing clearly is or is not, is being done or is not being done.

The signs of the imperative in the present are let, in the future shal.

The signs of the potential are mai, mjħt, kan, küld, shüld, and also wüld; of the infinitive, tu.

Potential present	I mai, ðou maist	hï	mai
		wï
		yï
		ðei		{n. p.}

Imperfect	J mjħt, ðou mjħt’st	hï	mjħt
		wï
		yï
		ðei

Present	J kan	plural	wï	kan
	ðou kanst		yï
	hï kan		ðei

Imperfect	J küld	plural	wï
	ðou küldst		yï	küld
	hï küld		ðei

So much for the signs. There now follows the irregular verb tu bï.

Indicative

Present	J am	plural	wï
	ðou art		yï	är
	hï is		ðei

Future	J shal	bï	plural	wï
	ðou shalt			yï	shal bï
	hï shal			ðei

Imperfect	J waz	plural	wï
	ðou wast		yï	wёr
	hï waz		ðei

Perfect	J hav	bïn	plural	wï
	ðou hast			yï	hav bïn {n. p.}
	hï hath			ðei

indefinite	J had	bïn	plural	wï
	ðou hadst			yï	had bïn
	hï had			ðei

Imperative

Present	let mï bï	plural	let us bï
	bï ðou		bï yï
	let hïm		let ðei bï

Future	đou shalt bï	plural	yï
				shal bï
	hï shal bï		ðei

Potential

Present	J mai bï	plural	wï
	ðou maist bï		yï	mai bï
	hï mai bï		ðei

The future also is always identical with the present except for the addition of hёrafter, “hereafter”, to the various persons, as J mai bï hёrafter, ðou maist bï hёrafter, etc.

Imperfect	J mjħt	bï
	ðou mjħtst
	hï mjħt

Plural	wï	mjħt bï
	yï
	ðei

Perfect	J mjħt	hav bïn
	ðou mjħtst
	hï mjħt {H}

Plural	wï	mjħt hav bïn
	yï
	ðei

Infinitives

Present tu bï, “to be”; future, tu bï hёrafter, “to be hereafter”; perfect, tu hav bïn, “to have been”; present participle, bïing, “being”.

So much concerning the signs. Following are the

Paradigms of Perfect Verbs Actives and Neuters in the Three Conjugations

Indicative mood

Present tense	J I	luv love	ðou thou	luvest lovest	hï he	luveth	loves
		tёchteach		tёchestteachest		tёcheth	teaches
		spёkspeak		spёkestspeakest		spёketh	speaks

Plural	wï we	luv love	yï you	luv love	ðei they	luv	love
		tёchteach		tёchteach		tёch	teach
		spёkspeak		spёkspeak		spёk	speak

Items to be noted

1. The second person singular permits syncope, as ðou luv’st, spёk’st. There is, however, no place for syncope in verbs ending in s, sh, or the double consonant x, z, ch, ʒ, as ðou pasest, “thou passest”; ðou washest, “thou washest”; ðou waxest, “thou waxest”; ðou touzest, “thou turnest this way and that”; ðou tёchest, “thou teachest”; ðou chanʒest, “thou changest”; not ðou past, ðou washst, etc. {n. p.}

2. The third person also is shortened to an ending in s or z, as hï luvz, hï spёks. In the aforementioned endings, however, the e is not discarded, but the th changes to z, as hï tёchez, hï chanʒez. From these exclude the irregulars hav, hast, hath, hï did, about which I have spoken above.

Future	J shal	luv	ðou shalt	luv	hï shal	luv	I shall love
	or	tёch	or	tёch	or	tёch	I shall teach
	wil	spёk	wilt	spёk	wil	spёk	I shall speak
Plural	wï, yï, ðei shal or wil luv, tёch, spёk

The word of the future does not change at all and is always the same as the first person of the present.

Imperfect	J	luved	ðou	luvedst	hï wï yï ðei	luved	I loved
		tauħt		tauħest		tauħt	I taught
		späk		späkest		späk	I spoke

The second person singular only differs from the others in the est, or st by the elision of e, as ðou tauħ’st, ðou späk’st.

Perfect J hav	luved	ðou hast	luved	hï hath	luved	I have loved
	tauħt		tauħt		tauħt	I have taught
	spökn		spökn		spökn	I have spoken
Plural	wï, yï, ðei häv luved, tauħt, spökn

indefinite	J had	luved	ðou hadst	hï wï yï ðei	had	luved	I had loved
		tauħt				tauħt	I had taught
		spökn				späk	I had spoken

These two tenses can be formed from the passive verbal adjective by means of the signs hav and had. It should be noted, however, that in the case of {H2} those verbals which end in impure n, the n in these tenses is somewhat slighted, but should not be slighted in the adjective, as J hav or had spök tu him, “I have or had spoke to him”, but not it is spök abröd, but spökn, “it is spoken abroad”. Nor is it permitted to write it is writ, but writn, “it is written”, although you may say J hav writ tu him, “I have writ to him”. I have spoken on this occasion because now and then you may hear one as well as the other, J hav brök, “I have broke”, and it is brök, “it is broke”, or in both cases, brökn, “broken”.

This favour indeed is granted to conversational speech, which takes to itself the privilege of employing J hav spök, writ, brök, but let no cultured person write thus.

The imperative Mood

Present tense	let mï	luv let me love	luv	ðou	love	let him	luv love
		tёchlet me teach	tёch		teach		tёchteach
		spёklet me speak	spёk		speak		spёkspeak

Plural	let us	luv let us love	luv	yï	love	let ðem	luv love
		tёchlet us teach	tёch		teach		tёchteach
		spёklet us speak	spёk		speak		spёkspeak

The second person admits the use of dü for emphasis, and places the nominative accented before the verb, as dü ðou rёd, “do thou read”, dü yï tёch, “do ye teach”.

Future	ðou shalt thou shalt	luv love	hï shal he shall	luv love
		tёchteach		tёchteach
		spёkspeack		spёkspeak

plural	yï shal ye shall	luv love	ðei shal they shall	luv love
		tёchteach		tёchteach
		spёkspeak		spёkspeak {n. p.}

Potential mood

Present tense	J mai	luv	ðou maist	luv	hï wï yï ðei	mai	luv	I may love
		tёch		tёch			tёch	I may teach
		spёk		spёk			spёk	I may speak

The future is made from this by adding hёrafter to the different persons, as, J mai luv hёrafter, ðou maist luv hёrafter, that is, “I may love hereafter”, or “I may have loved”, “you may”, etc.

Imperfect	J mjħt	luv	ðou mjħt’st	luv	hï wï yï ðei	mjħt	luv	I might love
		tёch		tёch			tёch	I might teach
		spёk		spёk			spёk	I might speak

Perfect	J mjħt hav	luved	ðou mjħtst hav	luved	hï wï yï ðei	mjħt hav	luved
		tauħt		tauħt			tauħt
		spökn		spökn			spökn

Infinitive Mood

Present	tu	luv	which is also the future when hereafter is added, as tu	luv	hёrafter
		tёch		tёch
		spёk		spёk

Perfect	tu hav	luved
		tauħt
		spökn

We render the Latin first supine, the future participle {n. p.} in rus, and the gerund in dum by the present infinitive, as tu luv, Latin amare, amatum, amaturus, amandum.

The active verbal adjectives are	luving loving
	tёchingteaching
	spёkingspeaking

These are formed in every conjugation from the stem itself by adding ing, just as is the noun of the agent by affixing er, as a luver, a tёcher, a spёker, “lover”, “a teacher”, “one who speaks”. Those nouns of agent formed from substantives also follow this form, as forester from forest; klöðier, “clothier”, from kloth, “cloth”; kolier, “collier”, from köl, “coal”.

The Latin gerunds are also derived in this way: the one in di by of, the sign of the genitive case; the gerund in do by in, the sign of the ablative, as of luving, “of loving”, in luving, “in loving”.

The passive verbal adjectives are	luved loved
	tauħttaught
	spöknspoken

These always end in d, t, or n, the consonant being added to the original or changed figurative of the present, as was stated above in the explanation of the conjugations.

The passive voice is formed by combining the different tenses of the substantive verb tu bï with the passive verbal adjective. Examples:

Indicative Mood

Present J am	luved	ðou art	luved	hï iz	luvedI am loved
	tauħt		tauħt		tauħtI am taught
	spökn		spökn		spöknI am spoken {n. p.}

plural	wï ar	luved	yï ar	luved	ðei ar	luved
		tauħt		tauħt		tauħt
		spökn		spökn		spökn

And since there is one verbal for all moods and tenses, it will be sufficient to have given the first person as an example; the others will appear by affixing the adjective to the forms of the verb tu bï.

Future: J shal bï tauħt, orJ wil bï tauħ, “I shall be taught”.

Imperfect: J was tauħt, ðou wast tauħt, hï wast tauħt, wï, yï, ðei wer tauħt, “I was taught”.

Perfect: J hav bïn tauħt, “I have been taught”.

Indefinite: I had bï tauħt, “I had been taught”.

Imperative

Present: let mï bï tauħt, “let me be taught”; bï ðou tauħt, “be thou taught”; let him bï tauħt, “let him be taught”. Plural: let us bï tauħt, “let us be taught”; bï yï tauħt, “be ye taught”; let ðem bï tauħt, “let them be taught”.

Future: ðou shalt bï tauħt, “thou shalt be taught”; let him bï tauħt, “let him be taught”. Plural: yï shal bï tauħt, “ye shall be taught”, ðei shal bï tauħt, “they shall be taught”.

Potential

Present	I mai bï tauħt“I may be taught”
Future	I mai bï tauħt hёrafter “I may be taught hereafter”
Imperfect	I mjħt bï tauħt“I might be taught”
Perfect	I mjħt hav bïn tauħt“I might have been taught”

Infinitive Mood

Present	tu bï tauħt“to be taught”
Perfect	tu hav bïn tauħt“to have been taught”
Future	tu bï tauħt hёrafter“to be taught hereafter”

The first supine is the same as the present infinitive active; the second, as the passive, by which we render {n. p.} the verbals in bilis and dus, as tu bï tauħt, as Latin doceri, doctu, docendus, docilis.

Defectives

Except for the signs, which we have spoken of, and the irregular tu bï, which is itself also a sign in the entire passive voice, we have very few defectives. They are as follows:

J wot, “I know”; ðou wotst, rarely hï wots, wï, yï, ðei wot. More commonly in the northern dialect the o goes off into ä. With the same meaning is J wit, “I know”, but wjt, “censure”, has almost disappeared.

J wist, “I knew”, does not vary at all in the other persons: ðou wist, hï wist, wï, yï, ðei wist. The other forms are missing.

I tröu, “I think”, ðou tröust, hï tröuz (however, these two persons are rarely used) wï, yï, ðei tröu: but this verb more commonly asks a question than makes a statement. Its irregular verbal trv, “thought”, lacks the remaining moods and tenses. Koth or quoth, from ancient cweth, a word conjugated by our ancestors cweth, cwethest, cwetheth, (“I say, you say, he says”), now remains unchanging, as quoth I, quoth ðou, quoth hï, quoth wï, etc. It refers to things spoken of formerly as must to things in the future. Must also is invariable, but it follows the nominative after the fashion of other verbs, as I must, ðou must, hï must, wï must, yï must, ðei must, “I must”, “thou must”, “he must”, etc.

Hjħt, “I name” or “I am named”, occurs only in the present indicative: I hjħt, ðou hjħtst, hï, wï, yï, ðei hjħt. Bihjħt, “call by name” or “denote”, formed from this, and I bjnemt, “I have called by name”, from näm, “name”, have almost disappeared. So also have häil and âlhäil, “all hail”, for “hail”, singular and plural. However, häil, “hail”, is even now used by the people of Norfolk. J go is a regular verb of the first conjugation except that, because it lacks an imperfect, our forefathers substituted {n. p.} J yёd or J yöd, “I went”; whereas we use J went, ðou wentst, hï, wï, yï, ðei went, from the verb tu wend, “to turn one’s self”, a word used even now by sailors.

The perfect is J hav gön, “I have gone”, etc., but its compound tu forgö, “to forego”, lacks the imperfect entirely. On the other hand, tu förgö, “to forego”, follows the form of the simple verb. The defective mai and kan, “may” and “can”, and wil, “will” – which we have called signs – supply the rest of the tenses and moods by means of the irregular tu bï and adjectives of related meaning, as J ken or J mai, “I can” or “I may”, J küld or J mjħt, “I could” or “I might”. The Indicative:

Potential perfect: J mjħt hav bïn äbl, “I might have been able”; future: I mai bï äble herafter, “I may be able hereafter”; present infinitive: tu bï äbl, “to be able”. So also J wil, “I will”; J wüld, “I would”. Indicative perfect: I hav bïn wïling, “I have been willing”; I had bïn wïling, “I had been willing”, etc. From this one compound, J nil, “I am unwilling”, and J nould, “I was unwilling”, was in common use in older times. But just as we have changed the verb nil over into an adjective, so also have we treated those which were used, as J am unwiling, “I am unwilling”, J am wiling, “I am willing”, J am äbl, “I am able”, J am mör wiling, “I am more willing”. For all of these there is one form in the rest of the moods and tenses, as we have just now explained. Shal more than shuld varies not at all, dü and häv are taken from complete verbs.

If the conjunctions ðoħ or âlðoħ, “althought”; so ðat, “so that”; eksept, “except”; if, but if, are present, the potential mood time and again loses its signs mai, kan, etc.

And this is the form of our native verbs, as far as they have analogy with Latin, but like every other language, the English also has its {I} idioms, which can be translated into Latin with difficulty or not at all. One occurs in the past subjunctive of the future, as when J shal hav tauħt mj skolars, J wil kum tu yü, “when I shall have taught my scholars, I will come to you”. This in some sort of sense would be in Latin, quum finem facerim docendi discipulos meos, veniam ad te, for it cannot be satisfactorily expressed either by docuerim or by docuero, because shal hav tauħt belongs to each tense. And this sentence quum Karthaginem deleveris, triumfum egeris, censorque fueris, et obieris legatus Aegyptum, delegêre iterum absens consul is far better expressed in its true sense by the following English than by any gesture of Roscius or by all the eloquence of the orator himself: When ðou shalt hav wästed Karthaeʒ, when ðou shalt hav ended ðj trjumf, and shalt hav bïn Sensor, and governed Eʒipt az Lïftenant: ðou shalt bï chözn konsul ðe sekond tjm in ðjn absens. But the use of the active verbal adjective is very common, for from this are revealed not only gerunds and those which the Hebrews form by בכלם; but also numberless others. And because all words of this sort are substantives with tense (for they indicate action as taking place in that time at which the discourse occurred), it will be most difficult to express their force in Latin. Indeed, those which are formed from verbals with endings in antia or entia approximate them the most. Next are those formed from the supines with the ending io, but forms of this sort are not widespread everywhere. For example, mj luving and späring of yü, mäks yü ðe wurs, “my loving and sparing of you makes you the worst” cannot be translated word for word as mea amantia et parcentia vestri, vos deteriores reddit, and if you were to say amor et indulgentia, you would produce a strange expression. The third is the vulgar manner of speaking in the middle voice, though instances of this are somewhat uncommon with us because most of the passives also assume the form, and some also, the meaning. For example, đus iz mj welth ëtn and drunk out, “thus is my wealth eaten and drunk out”. J am run out of breth, has the real meaning of the perfect tense, “I have run”, and of the present, “until I am out of breath”. Some having the same meaning are both middle and middle-passive, as, I käm hiðer or I was kum hiðer beför yü, “I came hither before you”.

The impersonals by their very nature are few: it rainz, “it rains”; it thunderz, “it thunders”; it waxeth dai, “it waxeth day”; it drauz toward njħt, “it draws towards night”, etc. However, many are formed from the personal verbs, and from those which are for the most part middle, if you place the pronoun of the neuter gender, it, before the third person singular, as, it bikumeth, “it becometh”, it hapneth, “it happeneth”, it chaunseth, “it chanceth”, etc. Certain ones are formed from adjectives and the verb iz, and these are either passive, as, it iz said, “it is said”, it iz reported, “it is reported”, it iz givn out, “it is given out”; or they are middle, as, it is manifest, “it is manifest”, it iz lauful, “it is lawful”, it iz mït, “it is meet”, it iz sertain, “it is certain”. {n. p.} Moreover, the variation of these is sufficiently clear from a consideration of the third person singular of the verb tu bï, as, it iz said, “it is said”, it waz said, “it was said”, it hath bïn said, “it hath been said”, it wil bï said, “it will be said”. Complete the rest with the other forms of the verb tu bï. In the case of others, account must be taken of the conjugation itself of the verb from which they are derived, for the impersonal itself changes according to the mutation of the stem vowel or of the consonant annexed, as, in the first conjugation, it bisïmeth, “it beseems”, it bisïmed, “it beseemed”, it hath bisïmed, “it hath beseemed”, it had bisïmed, “it had beseemed”, it shall bisïm, “it shall beseem”, etc.; and in the second conjugation, it bikumeth, “it becometh”; future, it wil bikum, “it will become”; imperfect, it bïkäm, “it became”; perfect, it hath bikum, “it hath become”; indefinite, it had bikum, “it had beocme”; imperative mood, present, let it bikum, “let it become”; future, it shal bikum, “it shall become”; potential, present, it mai bikum, “it may become”; future, it mai bikum hërafter, “it may become hereafter”; imperfect, it mjħt bikum, “it might become”; perfect, it mjħt hav bikum, “it might have become”; infinitive present, tu bikum, “to become”. But if the inflection is made by means of duth and did, then there is no mutation of the form, as has been noted before in the case of the personal verbs; for example, it duth bikum, “it doth become”, it did bikum, “it did become”, it hath bikum, “it hath become”, etc.

Chapter XIII

Consignificants

Consignificant words include articles, also adverbs, conjunctions, prepositions, and interjections. The prepositive articles are only a and ðe, the relatives or connectives have been sufficiently discussed in the section on personal nouns. As for adverbs, this one thing should be noted, that almost all adjectives become adverbs by the addition of the particle lj, as, from lauful, “lawful”, laufullj, “lawfully”; from kurteus, “courteous”, kurteuslj, {I2} “courteously”; from trim, trimlj, “trimly”. Thus, lj corresponds to the Latin particles ter and e, as from felix, “happy”, comes feliciter, “happily”; from doctus, “learned”, docte, “learnedly”. And because there is no difficulty in these invariables except the mere learning of the words (for the classes are the same, and the use is the same as in Latin and other languages), I shall banish the zealous reader of these matters to the dictionary-makers.

Syntax

Syntax is the third part of Logonomy and concerns the grammatical connection of words. I shall especially set down its rules, which are peculiar to the English language; those which can be learned from the rules of Latin I shall consider it sufficient merely to hint at or to neglect altogether.

Chapter XIV

The Scheme of General Syntax, its First Nature, is Explained

Syntax is simple or figurative: simple syntax is the one that we commonly use in writing and speaking; rhetorical or figurative syntax is the one that for the sake of necessity or ornamentation shines forth by some light of discourse. There is also the syntax of free style or the compact syntax of poetry. Whichever kind the syntax may be however, it is either absolute, or it is the syntax of agreement or of government of cases.

Absolute:

1. All substantives can be construed absolutely with other words; as, đe gud examplz of pärents öuht to bë a rvl of ljf tu ðe children, “the good examples of parents ought to be {n. p.} a rule of life to the children”. Here examplz is construed absolutely with the other words.

2. Adjectives used without substantives, likewise the infinitive mood, sometimes even a consignificant word, often a clause or phrase follow the syntax of substantives.

3. The nominative absolute in English is used exactly as the ablative absolute in Latin; as, I bïing prëzent, hï durst not hav dun it, “I being present, he durst not have done it”; in Latin: me praesente, hoc facere ausus non fuisset. Hï bïing in trubl, hiz frindz forsük him, “he being in trouble, his friends forsook him”; in Latin: illo molestiis implicato, amici eum deseruerunt.

4. Praise and blame are expressed by the genitive absolutely, as hi iz a man of grët spirit, “he is a man of great spirit”.

Chapter XV

The Second Type of Syntax

This is the syntax of agreement and is of three kinds, as in the example given above, đe gud examplz of pärents öuht to bë a rvl of ljf tu ðe children, “the good examples of parents ought to be a rule of life to the children”; first, is the agreement of the adjective gud with the substantive examplz; second, of the verb öuht, with the nominative; third, the agreement of the appositive rvl with the case of the substantive. There is no syntax of agreement except these.

1. Since adjectives with the exception of the numerals do not change in case or in number, they cannot show agreement with a substantive, as a lërned man, “a learned man”, and lërned men, “learned men”.

2. Sterile substantives, that is, those which have borne no adjective progeny, perform the function of an adjective itself, as ðe së-water, “the sea-water”; a peuter-salt, “a pewter salt cellar”. This is because {I2} së and peuter, do not produce adjectives.

3. Many proper nouns are sterile, and take upon themselves the function of sterile nouns, as a Lundon dj, “a London dye”; an Oxford gluv, “an Oxford glove”; Köts wöuld wul, “wool from the Cotswolds”; a Wiðam pjk, “a Witham pike”; Wustershïr salt, “Worchestershire salt”. Some proper nouns, however, do have adjectives, as a Frensh kroun, “a French crown”; Spanish wjn, “Spanish wine”; an Indian fig, “an Indian fig”; coming from Frâns, Spain, India, or Ind.

4. Of the numerals, the cardinals do not agree with the substantives at various times, notably in the measure of space and time, as thrï füt hjħ, “three foot high”; tuenti yër or tuenti yërz öld, “twenty year” or “years old”; a hors thirtïn handful or thirtïn handfulz hjħ, “a horse thirteen handful” or “hadfuls high”; I hav wâlkt fjv mjl or mjlz, “I have walked five mile” or “mile”. In these füt is singular only; the others yër, handful, mjl can be either singular or plural. The other words of time – a minut, “a minute”; an ouer, “an hour”; a dai, “a day”; an äʒ, “an age” – and those of space – an insh, “an inch”; a finger, “a finger”; a span, “a span”; a yërd, “a yard”; an el, “an ell”; a päs, “a pace”; a përch, “a perch”; an äker, “an acre”; a furlong, “a furlong” – do not admit of this irregularity, as the former ones would not if there were not present an adjective indicating measure, such as long, “long”, wjd, “wide”, bröd, “broad”, thik, “thick”, dïp, “deep”, etc., or if there were not present adverbs of this sort, such as over, “over”, abuv, “above”, under, “under”, etc. A noun of price also belongs to measure if it is estimated by minas, as it stands mï in ten pound or ten poundz, “it stands me in ten pound” or “pounds”. The other nouns of price – pens, “pence”, shilingz, “shillings”, etc. – are regular.

5. And in order to satisfy the reader, I shall add the numerals and their syntax: ön 1, tü 2, thrï 3, föur 4, fjv 5, {n. p.} six 6, sevn 7, aiħt 8, njn 9, ten 10, elevn 11, tuelv 12, thirtïn 13, fourtïn 14, fiftïn l5, sixtïn 16, sevntïn 17, aiħtïn 18, njntïn 19, tuenti 20, thirti 30, forti 40, fifti 50, sixti 60, sevnti 70, aiħti 80, njnti 90, a hundred 100, tü hundred 200, thrï hundred 300, etc., a thouzand 1000, tü thouzand 2000, etc., a milion 100000. In the case of the compound numerals, the larger precedes the smaller, as tuenti ön 21, thirti tü 32, forti thrï 43, a thousand six hundred and aiħtïn 1618, etc., up to 1000000 successively; or conversely, the smaller precedes the larger, as ön and tuenti 21, tü and thirti 32, thrï and forti 43, six and fifti 56, njn and fifti 59. But you will not continue with this form further.

The ordinals are first, “first”; sekond, “second”; third, “third”; föurth, “fourth”; fift, “fifth”; sixt, “sixth”; sevnth, “seventh”; aiħt, “eighth”; njnth, “ninth”; tenth, “tenth”; elevnth, “eleventh”; tuelfth, “twelfth”; thirtinth, “thirteenth”; föurtïnth, “fourteenth”, etc., tuentith, “twentieth”; thirtith, “thirtieth”; fortith, “fortieth”; etc., hundreth, “hundredth”; thouzanth, “thousandth”; and they are all singular. Those which are declined, however, belong to the second declension, as tenths, “tenths”; fiftïnths, “fifteenths”; hundreths, “hundredths”. In compounds after 20, the smaller precedes, as ðe ön et tuentith 21; ðe tü et thirtith 32; ðe thrï et fortith 43; ðe njn et fiftith 59. It stops here, for after this the larger number is placed before the smaller, as ðe tü hundred sixti and seventh sjd, “the two hundred and sixty-seventh side”.

Observe that in the compound ordinals, all the numbers are produced with the ending of the cardinals, except the last, which concludes the group in the manner of the ordinals.

We also have through the use of skörz, “scores” another method of reckoning and especially after 60. Moreover, the individual 20 is called a skör, “a score”. Also, this method of counting is in use both among the cardinals and the ordinals. The cardinals, for example, are thrï skör and ön, tü, thrï, ten, sixtïn, etc., that is, 60 and 1, 2, 3, 10, 16, etc. föur skör 80, fjv skör {n. p.} 100, six skör 120, etc., up to twenti skör, that is, 400, more rarely on up to forti njn skör, that is, 980, but never further. Often this reckoning is made by full skörz: in the case of people up to 200; in the case of sheep, cattle, and paces, continue up to the last one. So, in the case of the ordinals, after 60 you may say ðe thrï skör and first, sekond, tenth, fiftïnth, “the three score and first, tenth, fifteenth”, ðe föur skör and third, föurth, twelfth, sixtïnth, etc, “the four score and third, fourth, tweth, sixteenth”. Seldom, however, will you use this formula beyond two-hundredth.

Some reckonings, too, are made by duznz, “dozens”, by dikarz, “decades”, and individual shops, for the most part, use one kind; others, another. These, indeed, I as a grammarian should pass over in silence, since they are contained in the transcript of the Law An. 14. Ed. 3.

6. 1. The prepositive articles a and ðe are placed before common nouns only and those following their form, as a King, ὁ βασιλεὺς; a or ðe Quïn, ἡ βασιλίσσα; a or ðe bodi, τὸ σῶμα. If an adjective is present, it is placed between the article and its noun, as a gud man, “a good man”, unless perchance the adjective is placed after its noun, as a man trv of hiz wurd, “a man true of his word”.

2. There is, however, a difference in the use of these articles, for, whereas a is used with the singular only, ðe is used with both numbers. Moreover the use of a is looser than that of ðe: because a is used indefinitely, and ðe more exactly, and to a certain extent indicates relationship to that which follows, as a man mai sï what it iz tu dü for unthankful personz, of which the meaning is this, it is possible for anyone to see what it means to do a kindness to ungrateful people. In this instance one may not say ðe man, just as you should use {n. p.} ðe, not a, when the discussion concerns a particular one only; as đe Grësian Empjr flurished möst under Alexander, “the Grecian empire flourished most under Alexander”.

3. There are also occasions when each can be used without distinction, for certainly that which is more universally expressed by a can also many times be expressed more distinctly by ðe, as a krvel man shal not dj in pës, “a cruel man shall not die in peace”; but ðe krvel man shal not dj in pës, “the cruel man shall not die in peace” has a certain emphasis.

4. Moreover, a great diversity of meaning can be expressed through the articles alone; for example, Tomas iz a gud man, means “Thomas is a good human being”, but Tomas iz ðe gud man, means “Thomas is a husband or father of a family”. Thus, a man means a male person, man means a human being: as shï waz born man, “she was born man”.

5. The same rule of syntax admits of a or ðe with the positive, but only ðe with the superlative, as innosensj iz a svr säfgard, “innocence is a sure safeguard”, and innosensj iz ðe svrest säfgard, “innocence is the surest safeguard”.

6. Solitary nouns, that is, nouns without an indication of relationship to another, do not have articles; as, virtv alön mäks men hapi, “virtue alone makes men happy”.

7. Metals, grains, and herbs, which we have mentioned as having irregularities of number, do not have the article a except with an omission; as it iz a fërn, (supply bush, stâk, lëf, etc). It iz a brëd ðat nurisheth wel, “it is bread that nourishes well”, i.e. the genus bread.

8. Proper nouns use articles for the sake of distinction; for instance, hï is a Gil, means that he is one whose name is Gil, but not ðe, except to indicate preeminence, as ðe Talbot, which means the chief of the tribe of Talbots, or one illustrious because of some glorious deed. Moreover, collective ðe is used with the plural, as ðe Grehamz, the Grahams, to indicate the whole tribe of Grahams.

9. Proper nouns also admit of ðe because of an omission; as hj {K} waz droun’d in ðe Temz, “he was drowned in the Thames”, river or water being understood; i.e., he was drowned in the river Thames or in the water of the Thames.

10. To adjectives placed after proper nouns ðe, as Alexander ðe Grët, “Alexander the Great”; Philip ðe Faier, “Philip the Fair”; Hektor ðe Troʒan, “Hector the Trojan”.

11. With adjectives used in place of nouns, the article ðe, as,

Đe long ar läzi, ðe litl ar loud,

Đe fäir ar slutish, ðe foul ar proud.

“The long are lazy, the little are loud,

The fair are sluttish, the foul are proud”.

Here women are obviously understood. The same rule holds in the case of neuters used absolutely; as, hj iz kum tu ðe hjest, “he has come to the highest”; J hav hit ðe whjt, “I have hit the white”, meaning the white goal.

12. When they are preceded by a noun, the articles a or ðe are used with adjectives in a relative sense; as, for example, Mari no wjf: for a bad ön iz an endles trubl whjl shï livz; a gud ön, a lasting soröu when shï iz ded; “Marry no wife, for a bad one is an endless trouble while she lives; a good one, a lasting sorrow when she is dead”. Again, Aʒax, bïng mad, kild ðe Grësianz shïp: ðe fat, supözing ðem tu bï komaunderz; ðe lën, thinking ðem tu bï komonsöldierz; “Ajax, being mad, killed the Grecian sheep: the fat, supposing them to be commanders; the lean, thinking them to be common soldiers”. But ðe fifti which had run awai, etc., “but the fifty which had run away,” etc.

13. Superlatives follow this form: among ðe filosoferz, Plato waz ðe möst lërned, “among the philosophers, Plato was the most learned”. The comparative does likewise; as, what am J ðe beter for it? “what am I the better for it?”, i.e., how much greater advantage has come to me from this? Nevertheless, though this may be the customary {n. p.} rule for speaking, ðe here is redundant.

Certain pronouns such as säm, “same”, with the addition of self and veri, take the place of nouns with the article ðe, as ðe säm, “the same”; ðe self säm, “the self-same”, ðe veri säm, “the very same”. So also do hï and shï according to the distinction of sex, as a or ðe hï (masculine), a or ðe shï (feminine).

15. Possessives do not use articles, as, mj masters bük, “my master’s book”. Moreover, one may add an article to a preceding nominative, but under no circumstances to a noun to which a possessive is attached, as ðe bük of mj mastër, “the book of my master”.

16. The numerals ön, tü, thrï, etc. likewise the signs of number – äl, “all”; everj, “every”; mani, “many” (for a is a great number, or a crowd itself, and mani a man, is a large part of mankind); sum, “some”; ani, “any”; nön, “none”, etc. Seldom combine with articles, as, thrï men, “three men”; âl men, “all men”; no man, “no man”. This is also true when these words are understood; as, ðei späred neiðer man, nor chjld; “they spared neither man nor child”, the word anj, “any”, being understood. But because a skör, a hundred, a thouzand, a milion, are accounted nouns, they join to themselves the articles, as a hundred men. On the other hand, tü hundred, thrï hundred, etc., and all the compound numerals remove the articles unless they are understood relatively.

17. The connecting articles whü, “who”, which, ðat, “that”, etc., which are also called personals or pronouns, if used indefinitely, agree with their nouns in case and number, as do other adjectives; if used interrogatively or relatively, they are construed after the manner of nouns.

Verbs with the Nominative

The syntax of adjectives has been given thus. Now follows the syntax of verbs agreeing with a preceding nominative in number and person. {K2} Exceptions concern irregularities (1) or position, (2) of person, (3) of number.

1. A question places the verb before the nominative as, kanst ðou dü ðis? “Canst thou do this?” So does the second person of the present imperative, as, luv ðou, “love thou”; tëch yï, “teach ye”. Likewise, this is occasionally done when the adverb hïer, “here”, is placed before the verb; as, hïer am J, “here am I”; it is always done in the case of redundant it and ðër, as, ðër käm a man tü mï, “there came a man to me”; it iz mj bruðer, “it is my brother”. This is true of some conjunctions, either expressed, as, neiðer art ðou hï whüm J lük for, “neither art thou he whom I look for”, or understood, as, wër J äbl tu dü az yü sai, i.e. if J wër äbl, “if I were able”. Bi a wjf never so shreud, hir huzband iz bound tu luv her, “be a wife never so shrewd, her husband is bound to love her”, instead of ðoh a wjf never bï so shreud, “though a wife never be so shrewd”. Whenever a little word hinting at reference to the preceding goes before the verb, the nominative will generally follow; as, ðat sai J, “that say I”; so did our fäðerz, “so did our fathers”; ðus hav ðei determined, “thus have they determined”. This, however, is not always true; as, so J sai, “so I say”.

2. Since the personal noun it implies something underlying, it changes the verb from the first or second person to the third; as, it iz J, “it is I”; it iz ðou ðat hast dun it, “it is thou that hast done it”.

3. A verb placed between two nouns of different numbers can agree with either one, so long as which or ðat is present, words which have reference either to a thing or to a person, as, ðe of-spring of men which iz tu kum or also which ar tu kum, “the offspring of future men” or “the future offspring of men”. But if the reference is made by means of whü, “who”, masculine or feminine, the verb will agree with the noun of person (because whü does not refer to a thing, but to a person only), as, ðe of-spring {n. p.} of men whü ar tu kum, not whü iz. So also a case between two verbs is construed now with this one, now with that; as, let Tomas kum in, J mën hï ðat käm yister dai or I mën him; “let Thomas come in, he, I say, who came yesterday”, or, “I mean him who”, etc.

Apposition

The third type of agreement is found in apposition. Apposition, however, is expressed in many ways: (1) by affirmation, as, a virtüs King iz ðe chïf tresvr of hiz kingdum, “a virtuous king is the chief treasure of his kingdom”; (2) by question, as, art ðou ðat Enëas? “art thou that Aeneas?”; (3) by comparison, as, knöuleʒ iz beter ðen welth, “knowledge is better than wealth”; (4) by a connecting particle, as ðe Vniversitjz of Oxford and Kämbriʒ, meaning the universities which are at Oxford and at Cambridge; (5) or by discrimination, as, neiðer wjn nor wïmen ever müv’d him, “neither wine nor women ever moved him”; (6) by exception, as, no man went in with him but J, “no man went in with him but I”. Also, different nominatives, having the force of a verb, are set down side by side either with a connective or without, as, hiz näm iz Wiliam, meaning he is named William, and, a guʒeon, a smelt, a söl, and a samon, wer täkn âl in ön net; “a gudgeon, a smelt, a sole, and a salmon were all taken in one net”. So, too, many adjectives with the force of a noun are in turn appositive; as, shï iz a chäst, et a luving, et a diskrït wjf; “she is a chaste and a loving and a discreet wife”; and a käv dark, unëzi, dölful, kumfortles, “a cave dark, uneasy, doleful, comfortless”, i.e., where there is no comfort. If, however, you should classify these examples under the first type of agreement, I would not object. Moreover, many verbs having the same tense, number, and person are placed side by side with the force of the nominative itself; as, hï lasht, {K3} and füin’d, and kikt, and krj’d; “he lashed and foined, and kicked and cried”.

Exception

The accusatives him, her, ðem, are attached to self or selvz in any of the cases, as

Ðe krvelti of Sëzar him-self, “the cruelty of Caesar himself”; J deliverd yür leter tu ðe man himself, “I delivered your letter to the man himself”. Moreover, the first and second person add the possessive forms to the primitives; as, J mj-self writ it, “I myself wrote it”, so also ðou ðj-self, “thou thyself”; wï our-selvz, “we ourselves”; yï your selvz ar witnesez, “you yourselves are witnesses”.

Chapter XVI

The Syntax of Government

This means the government of cases and of the verb. We shall discuss the government of cases first, then of the verb. The government of cases derives from the noun, the verb, and the consignificant word. And since the signs of all the cases spring from the latter, we shall begin with the syntax of consignificants.

With the exception of the genitive of possession, all our cases are one case in ending, distinguished only by signs or by position, for a word is considered to be a nominative when it precedes the verb, and an accusative when it follows it. Moreover, the signs which I have mentioned are prepositions, and, in order to forestall the asking of individual questions, I shall explain them and their syntax at one and the same time. {n. p.} These govern the accusative

The others which follow are held to govern the ablative, because they correspond to those which take that case in Latin:

Her hart iz harder ðen a diamond, “her heart is harder than a diamond”. So also we employ bj, as hjer bj a füt, “higher by a foot”. {n. p.}

These govern various cases

Of which obviously governs the genitive, corresponds also to the Latin prepositions de, e, ex; and a, ab, abs, as J hërd it of him, “I heard it of” or “from him”.

Tu is the sign of the dative and corresponds to the preposition ad in Latin, sometimes meaning “up to”, or “as far”; as, hï wäded tu ðe chin, “up to the chin”.

For governs the dative, but when it means “towards” or “on account of”, it governs the accusative, and when it means “in behalf of”, it governs the ablative. Aför, "afore", or biför, "before", meaning “in front of”, “in the presence of”, we often convert into tu hiz fäs, “to his face”, or fäs tu fäs, “face to face”. For is used in composition, as tu förtel, “to foretell”. Bj means “along”, “nearby”, or “through”, or expresses the agent, as a fäðer ouħt tu bi onored bj hiz children, “a father ought to be honoured by his children”. The preposition within composition sometimes changes from its usual meaning; to the opposite, as tu withstand, “to stand against”, and sometimes does this without composition, as J wil fjħt with him, “I will fight against him”.

The interjection ô governs the vocative, more rarely expressed, and that for the sake of emphasis, but with this word understood we preface our address to the individual classes of men, each one according to the degree of his own position and dignity. You will learn the titles of these from the clergymen better than from me, but nevertheless, passing over in silence the majority of those names, I ordain as a grammarian that you do not address any one as ðou, “thou”, even among the lowest dregs of the people, because this is a mark of contempt or of too familiar flattery; but use yü, “you”, because a free people wishes to be as far from being an object of contempt as from the slave like customs of certain foreigners of kissing the hands and feet. If ô governs the accusative, it is always expressed, as ô mï, or even ai mï, “o me!” Of the remaining interjections there are three which govern cases. Alak or alas is attached to the vocative or to the dative, as alak bruðer, hou kan J help {n. p.} it? “Alack brother, how can I help it?”; Alas for him, “alas for him”, or rather, “alas to me for him".

Fj, with on or upon, is construed with the accusative, as fj upon ðï, “fie upon thee”.

Wö, “woe”, is used with the dative without a sign, as wö iz mï, “woe is me”, although in reality it seems to perform the function of a substantive rather than of an interjection. Note, wö iz mï for him, meaning “I feel woe for him”, and the adjective use, J am wö for him, or wö bïgön, meaning “I am overcome with grief”.

Nouns Governing Cases

1. Genitive of possession. This is made from the nominative by adding s or z, and oftentimes takes the place of the nominative with the sign of, as mj fäðers servant, “my father’s servant”; a frindz biznes, “a friend’s business”. Otherwise this construction very rarely has a place among those nouns which we call neuter, as mj houshöld affairz, “my household affairs”; a glas windöu, “a glass window”, where it is not permitted to say houshöldz, “household’s”, or glasez, “glass’s”. Just so, here, and in the case of neuters used as adjectives, foreigners will most easily avoid mistakes if they use the noun itself with the sign of the genitive, as ðe servant of mj fäðer; ðe biznes of mj frind; ðe affairz of mj houshöld; a windöu of glas; ðe wâter of ðe së, “the water of the sea”; a pjk of Wiðam, “a pike of Witham”; sâlt of Wustershïr, “salt of Worcestershire”, etc.

2. Furthermore this principle of speaking is accepted, namely, that a legitimate adjective of ten changes into its own noun; i.e., in place of a man, wjz, lërned, ʒvdisius, reliʒius, etc., “a man, wise, learned, judicious, religious”, we use a man of wizdum, lerning, ʒuʒment, reliʒion, etc.; sometimes a single word makes use of circumlocution through hendiadys, as a man {L} of lau, “a man of law”, for lauyer, “lawyer”. In this particular, however, the sign of the genitive of at different times passes over into at, as a man at armz instead of armed man, “a man at arms”, a serʒant at lau, “a sergeant at law”.

3. Personal nouns substitute derivatives for primitives, as ðis hous of yürz iz ljk tu fâl, “this house of yours is like to fall” – of yürz in place of of yü; ðat foli of hiz wil undü him, “that folly of his will undo him”, instead of of him, etc. In these cases, it is also permissible to say ðis yür hous, ðat hiz foli.

4. The sign of placed before the genitive of possession indicates the omission of a noun or of the prepositive article, as hï hath stöln a hors of mj frindz, “he hath stolen a horse of my friend’s”. Here supply horses, i.e., hï hath stöln ön of mj frinds horsez, meaning, “he hath stolen one of my friend’s horses”. This can be resolved into this: hï hath stöln ön of ðe horsez of mj frind, “he hath stolen one of the horses of my friend”.

5. There are a few nouns which take the genitive case or the dative. Of this sort are luv, “love”; hatred, “hatred”; a fö, “a foe”; a frind, “a friend”; an enemj, “an enemy”; for example, ðe luv of/tu lërning stirz up indëvor, “the love of” or “to learning stirs up endeavour”, and Sezar waz an enemj of ðe Gaulz, or tu ðe Gaulz, “Caesar was an enemy of the Gauls” or “to the Gauls”.

6. But there are more which require the dative, as frindship, “friendship”; kurtezi, “courtesy”; favor, “favour”; kjndnes, “kindness”; gudnes, “goodness”; bounty, “bounty”; sin, offens, “offence”, etc.

However, of those that demand the dative very many can be set forth by means of the prepositions towards or against; as, his frowardnes tu mï, towards mï, or against mï, waz ðe kauz of mj harshnes toward him; “his frowardness towards me was the cause of my harshness towards him”.

7. Höp, “hope”; faith; trust; konfidens, “confidence”; {n. p.} assvrans, “assurance”; piti, “pity”; distrust, and any more of similar meaning are construed with different cases, but with the same meaning; for example, mj höp of, on, or in him mäd mï brëk mj faith tu, or towards yü; “my hope in” or “on him made me break my faith to you”; his piti of, on or towards mï; “his pity of, on, or towards me”.

Adjectives Governing Cases

1. Adjectives in the distributive position, as sum of us, “some of us”; ðe best of ðem, “the best of them”, likewise adjectives of desire, as dezjrus of muni, “desirous of money”; adjectives of knowledge, as J am svr and sertain of ðis, “I am sure and certain of this”; adjectives of memory, as mjndful of hiz promis, “mindful of his promise”; adjectives of doubt, as doutful of ðe end, “doubtful of the end”, and a good many of their opposites all follow the rules of Latin. Of these, certain also take the ablative with the preposition in, as expert, kuning, skilful in song, “skilful in song”. We also say grïdi of or after gain, “greedy of” or “after gain”, but only, thirsti after, “thirsty after”, as, thirsti after gain, “thirsty after gain”. The superlatives also are used with among, as ðe richest among ðem, “the richest among them”.

2. Wurði, “worthy”; unwurði, “unworthy”; born; gilti, “guilty”, are used with the genitive only, as gilti of hjh trëzn, “guilty of high treason”.

3. One adjective of abundance, ful, is construed with of, as ful of mët, “full of meat”; so also, the adjectives of lack, void or devoid, as void of gräs, “void of grace”. Frï however, with the same meaning governs the ablative, as, frï from anger, “free from anger”; empti takes no case after it.

4. These adjectives have a varied syntax: desended of, or from a nobl hous, “descended of” or “from a noble house”; weri of wurk, {L2} “weary of work”, or wëri with working, “weary with working”.

5. Profitabl, “profitable”; gud, “good”; hölsum, “wholesome”; ljħt, “light”; grïvus, “grievous”; dier, “dear”; welkum, “welcome”; redi, “ready”; wanting, “who or which is absent”; fit; ëqual, “equal”; proper; answerabl, “answerable”; akseptabl, “acceptable”; ljk, “like”; joined; nier or njħ, “near”; akustomed, “accustomed”; frindlj, “friendly”, together with their compounds disprofitabl, “disprofitable”; unhölsum, “unwholesome”, and their opposites il or nauħt, “ill”; hatful, “hateful”, and several adjectives of this nature in ful, as harmful, helpful, etc., all require the dative whenever they take a case after them, as it iz profitabl for mï, “it is profitable for me”; it iz a veri grïvus thing tu yü, “it is a very grievous thing to you”. Of these adjectives, however, several can also assume another grammatical form, as in euerj thing ljk tu Merkurj, böth for hiz vois, et kuler, “in everything like to Mercury, both in voice and colour”. Ljk however, and nier do not always require the sign of the dative.

6. Kärful, “careful”, governs the genitive or the dative, as J am kärful of him, or for him, “I am careful of him”. Knöun, “known”, and unknöun, “unknown”, require the dative, as Terentia waz knöun tu Salust, “Terentia was known to Sallust”; but with quite another meaning knöun governs the genitive, as Terentia waz knöun of Salust, meaning he had to do with her.

7. Rich, plentiful, abundant, over-flöuing, “overflowing”; eksïding, “exceeding”, and others perhaps of like meaning admit scarcely any other case than the ablative with a preposition, as rich in muni, “rich in money”. This is true also of present and absent, as J waz prezent with him at ðë fvneral, “I was present with him at the funeral”, for J kannot bï long absent from him, “for I cannot be long absent from him”. Angri governs the accusative or the ablative by the addition of one preposition {n. p.} or the other, as bï not angrï with mï, or against mï, “be not angry with me” or “against me”.

The number of adjectives which do not take cases is countless, like whjt, “white”; blak, “black”; hot, loud, etc. The number of those which govern [cases] only by force of an added word is also large; of this kind are those which are used impersonally with the verb it iz, as it iz plain, “it is plain”.

Let these, then, be the descriptions of the absolute government of adjectives; that government, however, which adjectives have in common with the other parts of speech will be explained later in the discussion of measure, instrument, etc.

Verbs Governing Cases

No verb takes the nominative after itself except as an appositive to the preceding subject, whatever foolish ideas the grammarians have, as Krasus wüld fain sïm a rich man, “Crassus would fain to seem a rich man”, or, Sizero deservz tu bï thöuht an onest man, “Cicero deserves to be thought an honest man”.

1. Tu akvz, “to accuse”; tu kondemn, “to condemn”; tu admonish, “to admonish”; tu absolv, “to absolve”, since they come from Latin, also follow the Latin syntax, as hï akvzed Hipia of adulterj, “he accused Hippia of adultery”. This form is followed by our own words tu akquit, “to acquit”, or tu asoil, “to assoil”; tu rob, and likewise tu deprjv, “to deprive”; tu spüil, “to spoil”; tu disburðen or tu ëz, “to ease”, as Sila robd ðe Sitisens of ðeir welth, and spüil’d ðem of ðeir ljvz, “Sulla robbed the citizens of their wealth, and spoiled them of their lives”; J wil ëz yü of ðis burðen, “I will ease you of this burden”.

Dative After a Verb

2. Tu attribut, “to attribute”; tu imput, “to impute”; tu impart, “to impart”; tu ad, “to add”; tu sai, “to say”; tu ljkn, “to liken”; {L3} tu propöz, “to propose”, require the accusative of the thing and the dative of the person or its equivalent with the sign tu, as yü mai wel ljkn ðe painz of a skülmaster tu ðat of a hors in a mil, “you may well liken the pains of a schoolmaster to that of a horse in a mill”; tu äplj, “to apply”; tu ʒvin, “to join”, require the accusative of the person and the dative of the thing, as aplj your self tu lërning, “apply yourself to learning”.

3. Tu provjd, “to provide”; tu kär, “to care”; tu bläm, “to blame”; tu läbor or tu tvil, “to labour”; tu wurk, “to work”; tu täk painz, “to take pains”, etc., often take the dative with the sign for, as J lâbor hier for a pür living, “I labour here for a poor living”. Tu kompär has tu, “to”, or with. Tu bistöu, “to bestow”, takes upon. Tu insult, upon, against, or over. Tu put is construed in two ways, as hï put ðe fault upon mi or hï put mï in fâult, “he put the fault on me” or “he put me in fault”.

4. Tu send, “to send”; tu yïld, “to yield”; tu harkn, “to harken”; tu graunt, “to grant”; tu promis, “to promise”; tu wish, “to wish”; tu päi, “to pay”; tu giv, “to give”; tu tel, “to tell”; tu deklär, “to declare”; tu rekount, “to recount”; tu wrjt, “to write”; tu deliver, “to deliver”, call for the dative either with the sign or without the sign of the dative, as J wil graunt him a third part, or J wil graunt a third part tu him, “I will grant him a third part” or “a third part to him”. Finally, all verbs reckoned as indicating acquisition will be at liberty to annex the dative, as ðe läbor wil bi tu mï, ðe profit wil redound tu yü; “the labour will be to me, the profit will redound to you”.

5. Moreover, numerous nouns which of themselves do not govern a case, with a verb, however, take an added dative, as hï bikäm svrti tu mï for Quinsius, “he became surety to me for Quintius”.

6. Also these impersonals govern the dative: it bilongeth, “it belongeth”; it hapneth, “it happeneth”; it chanseth; {n. p.} it apertaineth, “it appertaineth”; it sïmeth, “it seemeth”; it apiereth, “it appeareth”; jt remaineth, “it remaineth”, and finally all the rest, as well as those which are formed with adjectives and the verb iz, “is”, as it iz lauful, “it is lawful”; it iz mït, “it is meet”. Then, too, iz itself is considered an impersonal, as it iz for yür profit, “it is for your profit”; it wil bï for yür onor, “it will be for your honour”.

7. And if you add to this list the Latin words which are used in the accusative with the preposition ad, I shall have no objection, for we have one meaning and one syntax, as hï had mani helps tu ðis grët welth, “he had many aids to this great wealth”.

The Accusative After Verb

Every verb having an active sense can, in some sense, take an accusative. I note here only those which are construed in Latin with other cases: tu enʒoi, “to enjoy”; tu vz, “to use”; tu want, “to want”, or tu nïd, “to need”; tu piti, “to pity”; tu remember, “to remember”; tu forget, “to forget”; tu resist, “to resist”; tu help, “to help”; tu komaund, “to command”; tu get, “to get”; tu obai, “to obey”; tu hurt, “to hurt”, and many others which correspond to the compounds of sum, as praesum, that is, tu govern, “to govern” etc.; tu serv, “to serve”; tu sufer, “to suffer”; tu profit, “to profit”; tu avail, “to avail”; tu requjt, “to requite”; tu advjz, “to advise”; tu welkum, “to welcome”; tu kredit or belïv, “to credit” or “believe” (but tu belïv in ön, “to believe in one”, is spoken only of God); tu intrët, “to entreat”; tu prëvent, “to prevent”, and probably a good many more of this kind. Among these you may include the impersonals it konserneth, “it concerneth”; it grïveth, “it grieveth”; it plëzeth, “it pleaseth”; it displëzeth, “it displeaseth”; it hurteth, “it hurteth”; it bïfâleth, “it befalleth”; it satisfjeth, “it satisfieth”; it suffizeth, “it sufficeth”, and those which are formed from the preceding personal verbs, as it profiteth, it auaileth, etc.

2. The accusative before an infinitive in English is turned into {n. p.} a nominative, i.e., the Latin sapientes existimant fortunam cedere consilio, becomes wjz men think ðat fortvn givz pläz tu kounsel, “wise men think that fortune gives place to counsel”. Middle verbs take an accusative of related meaning, as shï sïm’d tu go a grët wäi alön, “she seemed to go a great way alone”.

3. Verbs of asking, beseeching, teaching, govern two accusatives, one of the thing, the other of the person, as ask him ðis question, “ask him this question”. This form, however, is subject to variation, as demaund or ask ðis of him, “demand” or “ask this of him”. Tu answer, “to answer”; tu pardon or forgiv, “to pardon”, take the accusative of the thing and the accusative of the person more often than the dative, as answer mï ðis, “answer me this”. We say, however, answer mï tu ðis püint, “answer me to this point”, and answer ðus tu him, “answer thus to him”. And J pardon, or J forgiv yü for it, “I forgive you for it”.

4. Tu wunder, “to wonder”; tu marvail, “to marvel”; tu bi amäzed, “to be amazed”, require the accusative with the preposition at, as J wundred at him, “I wondered at him”. Some others also follow this form not infrequently: tu lük, “to look”; tu gäz, “to gaze”; tu gäp, “to gape”; tu stâr, “to stare”; tu run, “to run”, etc. On or upon is often subjoined in place of at, as lük at, on, or upon mï, “look at me” or “upon me”. The remaining verbs of feeling generally govern the accusative without signs, the accusative, I mean, of that which is felt. Tu thrust, “to thrust”; tu push, “to push”; to repïn, “to repine”, take the case with at or against.

5. A noun of price or a fixed sum is put in the accusative after the verbs tu bï wurth, “to be worth”; tu pai, “to pay”; tu giv, “to give”; tu offer or tu bid, “to offer” and likewise tu boröu, “to borrow”; tu lend, “to lend”; tu pleʒ, “to pledge”, as a burd {n. p.} in ðe bag iz wurth tü on ðe snag, “a bird in the bag is worth two on the snag”. Tu kost, “to cost”, when the price is expressed, often takes the accusative of the person for whom the thing is purchased, as ðis bük kost mï six shilingz, “this book cost me six shillings”. With the verbs tu bj, “to buy”; tu sel, “to sell”, you will substitute the ablative of price with the preposition for, as hï böuħt a hors for fjv poundz, and söld him for twjs so much; “he bought a horse for five pounds, and sold him for twice so much”. Tu stand however, is used with in, as it standz mï in ten shilingz, “it stands me in ten shillings”. After tu prjz, “to prize”; tu bï prjzed, “to be prized”; tu rät, “to rate”; tu valu, “to value”; tu estïm, “to esteem”, or tu ʒuʒ, “to judge”, you will subjoin at, as J valv ðis hors at ten poundz, “I value this horse at ten pounds”. Since tu estïm, tu höld, tu akount, are used rather loosely, they thus have a more unrestricted construction, as I höld nothing of him, “I hold nothing of him”; I höld it not wurth ðis, “I hold it not worth this”.

The Ablative After a Verb

Tu reward, “to reward”; tu punish, “to punish”; tu glut, “to glut”; tu fil, “to fill”; tu löd, “to load”, take the ablative with the preposition with, as dishonestj iz punished with disonor, “dishonesty is punished with dishonour”. Tu abound is used with with or in, as hï aboundz in welth, “he abounds in wealth”. Tu frï, “to free”, or tu deliver, “to deliver”; tu relës, “to release”; tu rid, “to rid”; tu täk, “to take”; tu resëv, “to receive”; tu exempt, “to exempt”, and perhaps more with the same meaning take the sign of, out of, or from. Tu deserv, “to deserve”, uses of; tu akquit or tu asoil, “to acquit” or “to assoil”, employ their own case with of or from. Tu böst, “to boast”; tu brag, “to brag”; tu glöri or tu vaunt, “to glory” or “to vaunt”, have in or of, as fülz böst in their richez, leud men vaunt of ðeir plëzvrz; “fools boast in their riches, wicked men vaunt of their pleasures”. Tu ʒoi, “to joy”, demands in {M} only. Tu withöld, “to withhold”; tu abstaïn, “to abstain”; tu restrain, “to restrain”; tu difer, “to differ”; tu depart, “to depart”, and finally almost all the Latin verbs which are expressed by a, ab, cum, and by the other prepositions which govern the sixth case, are construed thus in English too.

Verbs having a passive meaning also follow this grammatical form with the signs of, for, bj, as hï waz diliʒentlj tauħt bj mï, “he was diligently taught by me”; hj waz blam’d for hiz böldnes, luv’d for hiz wit, “he was blamed for his boldness, loved for his wit”; ðe los of tjm iz much tu bï lamented of al men, “the loss of time is much to be lamented of all men”.

Chapter XVII

Various Cases Are Used

With verbs of striving, as ðe mjnd of a kuvetus man thirsts for, or after göld, “the mind of a covetous man thirsts for” or “after gold”; ðe thöuħts of a lërned man sïk and serch knöuleʒ, for or after knöuleʒ, “the thoughts of a learned man seek and search knowledge”, “for” or “after knowledge”; tu hunt, “to hunt”; tu folöu, “to follow”; tu pursv, “to pursue”; tu kuvet, “to covet”, take the accusative alone or even with the sign after; whereas tu dezjr, “to desire”, takes the accusative alone. There is a variation also in the case used with the noun of place, with instrument, and with measure.

The Noun of Place

Many are the signs used to express place: rest in a place, J liv in Lundon, at Lundon, “I live in London”; motion to a place, J go tu Lundon, towardz Lundon, and in a recent phrase, {n. p.} for Lundon, meaning “towards London”, literally “for London”; motion from a place, from Lundon; and with varying meaning, place is expressed with almost all the prepositions. But, in superscriptions, individual words properly maintain their own place, thus: tu mj frind A. B. at hiz hous in Mâlden, “to my friend A. B at his house in Malden”, not in hiz hous at Mâlden. However, when the name of a public place is omitted, let us say, hï iz in hiz hous, “he is in his house”.

Instrument, material, manner of an action, cause, and part are used after adjectives and verbs with prepositions governing the ablative, and occasionally the accusative only. Instrument, indeed, is expressed by with, bj, or thruħ, as slain with a swurd, “slain with a sword”; J withdrv him with, bj, or thruħ gud kounsel, “I withdrew him with, by or through good counsel”. Material of which [a thing is made] is expressed by of, as mäd of silver, “made of silver”; the material in which [a thing is made] by in or intu, as a diamond set in göld, or intu göld, “a diamond set in gold” or “into gold”; the material around which [a thing is made], by in or about, as bizied in, or about mani things, “busied in many things” or “about many things”. The manner of an action is construed with with or in, as hï späk with much ërnestnes, “he spoke with much earnestness”; hï töld mï in sober sadnes, “he told me in sober sadness”. This ablative is often expressed by an adverb, as hï späk verj ërnestlj, “he spoke very earnestly”. Cause, indeed, is expressed by of, with, for, as J waz sik of an agv, “I was sick of an ague”; päl with, or for anger, “pale with anger”. In this connection we frequently employ an idiomatic use, in that the conjunction bikauz, “because”, since it is made from a noun, governs the genitive according to the manner of nouns, as hï iz päl bikauz of his anger, “he is pale for the reason of his anger”, literally, “because of his anger”. Finally, a part is expressed by of or in, as hï iz läm of hiz handz, pain’d in hiz fït, or even without a preposition, as, hï iz läm, hand and fut, “he is lame in his hands and feet”. {M2}

Measure of size, space, and time admits of varied constructions, for it seems to be both absolute and subject to government. It is absolute, for instance, when we say a man of grët äʒ, “a man of great age”, and an öld man of a hundred and tuenti yërz, “an old man of a hundred and twenty years”; hï undertük a ʒurnei of a thouzand mjl, “he undertook a journey of a thousand miles”; a man of six füt and sevn inchez, “a man of six feet and seven inches”. But in the latter case there seems to be omission of the word hjħ, “high”, and in the former case, of the word long. Moreover, in the syntax of government, now and then an adjective, more often verbs, sometimes even a consignificant word admits the accusative or the ablative, and this either with a preposition or without it. The accusative: J hav lived four and fifti yërz, “I have lived four and fifty years”; a buoi sevn yërz öld, “a boy seven years old”; hï käm about midnjħt, “he came about midnight”. The ablative also sometimes has its own signs, as hï käm lät at njħt, or in ðe njħt, “he came late at night” or “in the night”. The ablative also sometimes has its own signs, as shï was sik ðis njħt, “she was sick this night”. Besides, there is a difference in the use of the cases, especially when no signs are used, for the accusative indicates continued action, as ðe chjld was sik ten däiz of an ägv, “the child was sick ten days of an ague”; J ʒurneied föur däiz togeðer däi et njħt, “I journeyed four days together day and night”. The ablative, however, signifies a part of time, or an interruption, or something unusual, as J slept wel tu njħt, or ðis njħt, “I slept well tonight” or “this night”, a thing which I had not done on other nights. Nor do the cases come accompanied by only these prepositions which we have mentioned, but they have other forerunners also, on, upon, and a, for on, as J wil go tu church a Sundai, “I will go to church on Sunday”. Likewise, they have others, as a thïf kumz bj njħt not beför sun-set, “a thief comes by night, {n. p.} not before sunset”. Let super bi redi against six a klok, or bitwïn six and sevn: J wil bï hier again within tü ouerz, bj and bj after six, “Let supper be ready against six o’clock, or between six and seven. I will be here again within two hours, by and by after six”. J kan not dü it under a dai, “I cannot do it under a day”. Adverbs also take cases either alone or connected with prepositions, as hï failz not tu kum tu mï öns a dai, “he fails not to come to me once a day”; ðe agv shük him thrjs in ön dai, “the ague shook him thrice in one day”. This syntax also prevails in weight, or rather in number, as ðis ring waiz thrï dramz, almost ʒïii, about ʒiïj, “this ring weighs three drams, almost three, about three”, etc., it iz a ring of ʒïii, “it is a ring of three drams”.

General Observations

1. As the meaning varies, so, too, does the case subjoined to nouns as well as to verbs, as J wil bï ivn with him for az gud a turn, “I will be even with him by means of an equal favour”; hï gäv mï ten shilingz in paun upon ðe bargain, at ðe exchanʒ, diverz marchants standing bj; “he gave me ten shillings as a pledge for the bargain at the exchange, divers merchants standing by”.

2. Words deriving their origins from other words take the cases of those words from which they are derived, as it waz dun profitablj for mï, “it was done profitably for me”. Because profitabl takes the dative, just so does the adverb derived therefrom. The verbals also follow the rule, as yü shal bï tauħt beter manerz, “you shall be taught better manners”, because tu tëch, “to teach”, takes the accusative. {M3}

Chapter XVIII

The Government of the Verb

1. Every conjunction in whose presence the signs of the potential mood are omitted, is known, nonetheless, to govern the potential mood, as If ðou bïst ðe man ðat J täk ðï for, “If thou be the man that I take thee for”.

2. Sometimes the conjunction itself is lacking, but the verb still remains potential, as had a mën man spökn ðez wurdz, no such wizdum had apïred in ðem, “had a mean man spoken these words, no such wisdom had appeared in them”. Here, accordingly, the sign of the tense is placed before the nominative, i.e. had J dun ðis, “had I done this”; in the indicative, on the other hand, [the order would be] J had dun ðis, “I had done this”.

3. The infinitive follows both nouns and verbs. After verbs its sign tu is often omitted, as J kanot understand yü, “I cannot understand you”. I said "often omitted" because often it takes its sign, as bid him wrjt without the sign, whereas komaund him tu wrjt, is never expressed without the sign. The infinitive after nouns does not omit its sign. There is, however, a noun or a substantive after which the infinitive corresponds to the gerund in di, as it iz tjm tu strjk whjl ðe jern iz hot, “it is time to strike while the iron is hot”; or an adjective which follows the same rule as in Latin, as no wuman iz wurðj tu bi luved but for her virtvz, “no woman is worthy to be loved but for her virtues”.

4. If the substantive verb tu bï, “to be”, stands alone before an infinitive, it denotes a certain necessity of action or of enduring, {n. p.} as J am tu wrjt, “it is necessary for me to write”; hï iz tu bï punished for anoðerz wrong, “he is to be punished”, or “he must be punished, for another’s wrong”. If it takes the preposition about, it simply corresponds to the future in rus, as J am about tu wrjt, “I am about to write”, or with the passive verbal, to the future in dus, as ðei ar about tu bï turn’d out of dürz, “they are about to be turned out of doors”.

5. Just as the use of the verbal in ing is refined, so is it very wide spread, for except for what we have said about the substantive with time, etc., after the verbs of motion tu go, “to go”, or tu kum, “to come”, it performs with the preposition a the office of the supine in um, as ðei went a hunting, “they went a hunting”; kum yü heðer a sköulding? “Come you hither a scolding?”

6. Since the verbal in ing, with the particle az, as, or even without, is related to the possessives or derived personal nouns, it has implicit in it the relative who or which, as if hï wil dü ani thing at yür komaund, as bïing hiz master; “if he will do anything at your command as being his master”, instead of “who are his master”. Mj rëding of büks kanot bï grët, spending so much tjm with mj skolârz; “my reading of books cannot be great, spending so much time with my scholars”, instead of “who spend”.

The verbal in ing with the article a sometimes corresponds to the Latin gerund in dum, as set it a suning, “set it to be exposed to the sun”.

General Observation

When no rule has been given for the government of any word, follow the Latin syntax, as it bihüveth mï, “it behoveth me”, me oportet. {n. p.}

Syntax of Figurative Language

I detain the reader for a while

It can be, o reader, that you will judge that many things which I am about to say concerning figures of speech are quite different from this practice of ours – so much borrowed from the rhetoricians that I seem to be decorating our homely speech with foreign colouring. I know, indeed, that authors of great reputation, notably Cicero and Quintilian, were convinced of the value of figures as they pertained to their own specialty; however, if we estimate them merely by their own ends, they will be found to pertain rather to the grammarian. The end of rhetoric is to persuade; for this it uses two aids – arguments, of course, and polished discourse, without which the arguments cannot be handled appropriately. Is there then no logic except rhetoric which teaches how to find and to conclude arguments? You will not say so. Therefore, confess that it is the function of Logonomy to cultivate discourse just as it is the function of Logics to argue. Marcus Tullius accordingly showed the bases of arguments, but he taught Logic, not Rhetoric, and he showed the embellishments of Oratory, all in the capacity of a grammarian not of an orator. I will admit, however, that an orator has certain opportunities to stir emotions, opportunities which Aristotle expounded best of all. Moreover, there are figures suited to the orator’s art – succession, outline, association, dwelling upon some important point, etc. – which, no matter how they may vary the style of the oration, still do not change it at all from its general grammatical nature or from the figures which we give here. But just as these matters do not exactly concern the philologist, they will, however, concern the grammarian. For certainly the rhetorician himself, no matter how great he may be, still will be confined by the bounds of Logonomy. I have preferred, therefore, to be so valued by others that they will wish to complete what I have left undone rather than to profess the whole teaching of Logonomy. And because I treat no one as a really suitable judge of eloquence who sticks to the literal meaning of words, do not ask of me any further Latin interpretation, which I could scarcely accomplish if I were to try, and in the attempt at which I would certainly hide the charm of our language so awkwardly that I would never hereafter gain pardon from English ears. For just as far as the industry of the Romans outdid the Greeks in this type of study, so far has the polished Englishman outclassed the Latin stock-in-trade, and every other one, I think. Nor is English written or spoken without figures of speech. But just as there are brighter stars in the sky than those which the eyes discern, and stars so dim that they are scarcely visible, so there are in our language metaplasms, ellipses, and other figures which ears do not discern unless they are closely attuned. There are, however, figures which so soothe the ears that they create pictures; that so captivate the senses that they transport the thought. And because these words may be read perchance by someone who is too old for the rod, I shall supply definitions which I once gathered for my pupils to assist their memories – definitions drawn some from Mancinelli, Despautère and others, some of which I drew up from poetry. If these displease anyone, it will do no harm for each one {n. p.} to substitute better ones. Almost all the examples are taken from Spenser’s poem, The Faerie Queene.

Chapter XIX

I Return to the Subject

A figure of speech, or that ornamentation by which speech differs from the ordinary, lies either in the choice of words or in their use. In the case of the former, a trope occurs when some word is changed from its proper meaning to another. A trope sometimes may be called synecdoche, either a statement of likenesses, which is a metaphor, or a statement of opposites, called irony, or thirdly, when a cause, a subject, or a whole is known by an effect, an adjunct, or a part, or vice versa, you have metonymy. But to avoid departing into grammatical heresy, let us say that among the common herd, metonymy of the whole or part is properly called synecdoche. Thus, there will be four main tropes with their supplements. Every trope should be modest, not too distorted, for if it seems too rude, it will be called catachresis, or a wrong use; if too bold, hyperbole; if too slight, liptote, meiosis, or tapeinosis. These seem figures of speech to others; to me they seem mere affectations.

The misuse of a word is called rude catachresis, as

But ah whü kan desëv hiz destinj?

desëv] to violate, to escape. And a little further.

So tikl bï ðe termz of mortâl stät,

And ful of sutl sofizms which du plai

With dubl sensez, and with fâls debät.

debät] he has said a dispute instead of calm reasoning, since debät indicates dissension, unless it is misused. {N}

Hyperbole is an obvious exaggeration of the truth, Mancinelli:

Đe wâlz wër hj, but nothing strong, nor thik;

And göldn süil âl over ðem displäid:

Đat pvrest skj with brjħtnes ðëi dismäid.

With hideus horror both togëðer smjt,

And sons so sör, ðat ðei ðe hevnz afrai.

Meiosis is held to be a thinning out of the truth with words:

So bï yür gudlihed, du not disdäin

Đe bäs kindred of so simpl swäin

du not disdain] do not hold in contempt; i. e., be mindful of the good.

Mï âl tü mën, ðe säkred mvz arëdz,

And in the preface to book 3, he quite depreciates himself:

Hou shal J ðen aprentis of ðat skil?

aprentis] the great master calls himself a beginner.

Translation, or a metaphor, is a word appropriated in one sense from another like it:

But nou wëk äʒ had dim’d hiz kandl ljħt.

Hï ðertu mïting said, instead of answering; meeting instead of replying.

J shal yü wel reward tu sheu ðe pläs,

In which ðat wiked wjħt hiz däiz duth wër.

wër] wear for consume.

And I hope it will not irk you to hear numerous metaphors from our Juvenal, George Wither, when he has laid a side sharp satire:

Fäier, bj natvr bïing born,

Boröu’d beuti shï duth skorn.

Hï ðat kiseth her, nïd fër

No unhölsum vernish ðer:

For from ðens, hï onlj sips

Đe pvr Nektar of her lips:

And with ðez, at öns hï klözez {n. p.}

Melting rvbiz; cheriz, rözez.

From this fountain spring all allegories and comparisons, also many proverbs and riddles, for an allegory is nothing else than a continued metaphor. An assiduous writer of this type is our Lucan, Samuel Daniel: Delia, sonnet 31:

Räzing mj höps on hilz of hjħ dezjr,

Thinking tu skäl ðe hëvn of hir hart,

Mj slender mënz prezvm’d tü hj a part.

Her thunder of disdain forst mï retjr,

And thrv mï doun, etc.

Hvʒ së of soröu, and tempesteus grïf,

Whërin mj fïbl bark iz tosed long,

Far from ðe höped hävn of relïf:

Whj du ðj krvel bilöz bët so strong,

And ðj moist mountainz ëch on oðer throng,

Thrëting tu swalöu up mj fërful ljf?

O du ðj krvel wrath and spjtful wrong

At length alai, and stint ðj stormi strjf,

Which in ðëz trubled bouelz rainz and räʒeth rjf.

For els mj fïbl vesel, kräz’d and kräkt,

Kanot endvr, etc.

But Spenser’s entire poem is an allegory whereby he teaches moral philosophy through fables. Thus, an allegory treats a thing in a veiled fashion by means of an entire metaphor; a proverb and a riddle, far more obscurely; a comparison, more plainly because in the beginning it sets forth the metaphor and later connects it with the object:

Az when tü ramz, stird with ambisius prjd:

Fjħt for ðe rvl of ðe fair flïsed flok;

Đeir horned fronts so fërs on eiðer sjd

Du mït, ðat with ðe teror of ðe shok,

Astonied both stand sensles as a blok,

Forgetful of ðe hanging viktorj:

So stüd ðëz twain in unmüved az a rok, etc. {N2}

Irony is a play on words contrary to the true meaning:

Praiz of an hjħ rekning, an a trik tu bï grëtlï renouned

Yü with yür priket purchast. Lo ðe victori fämus,

With tü godz paking on wumman silli tu kuzn.

In irony the world of the dead is all to be found, like that pictured by Philip Sidney in his Arcadia a most ingenious poem, except that it was not written in verses:

Ljk grët god Säturn fair, et ljk fair Venus chäst, etc.

Under irony or sarcasm are reckoned antiphrasis, scoffing, paralipsis, urbanity, and all those figures in which the mode of expression differs from the truth of the matter itself. Antiphrasis is the use of a word in a sense opposite to its proper meaning. Mancinelli:

Tu tel mj försez machabl tu nön,

Wër but lost läbor ðat feu wüld bilïv.

machabl tu nön] “equal to none”. If you call something closely associated by the name of the subject, or if you put an effect for a cause, or vice versa, that transfer of words will constitute a metonymy.

Đen shal J yü rekount a rvful käs

(Said hï) ðe which with ðis unluki ei

J lät bïheld; and had not grëter gräs

Mï rest from it, had bïn partäker of ðe pläs.

unluki ei] “unlucky eye”; i.e., witness of an unfortunate affair.

So also ðe pläs] He said “the place”, closely connected with the thing instead of the thing itself.

But after âl yür war, now rest yür wëri knjf.

He calls the knife weary instead of the weary warrior.

For ðj, shï gäv him warning everi däi,

Đe luv of wimen not tu entertain; {n. p.}

A lesn tü tu hard for living kläi

living klai] the cause is put for the effect, because man was made from the earth.

Place under this heading antonomasia, metelepsis, and onomatopoeia, and also, if it is thought fitting, barbaralexis. I hope there is no need for definitions of these, but for your information, you will find them in Mancinelli.

Antonomasia is the employing of an epithet instead of the proper name:

Ne let hiz fäirest Sinthia refvz,

In mirors mör ðen ön her self tu sï:

But eiðer Gloriana let hir chvz,

Or in Belfëbe fashioned tu bï:

In ð’ön her rvl, in ð’oðer her rär chastitï.

The transference of a name from another is metalepsis:

But fäir Karisa tu a luvlj fër,

Waz linked, and bj him had manj pleʒez dër.

pleʒez] pledges, that is of love, for children.

For tu Dhï iz unknöun ðe krädl of ðj brüd.

krädl of ðj brüd] cradle of thy beginning, for parents.

The fashioning of new sounds is onomatopoeia:

And mör tu lul him in his slumber soft, etc.

There follows in the same passage: murmuring wjnd, Hï mumbled soft.

And if these please you, read Stanyhurst’s Lipare from book 8 of Virgil’s Aeneid.

As for barbaralexis, I am almost embarrassed at what I am about to write. For if I inveigh against the thefts of those who make a great show in some small matter, of knowledge and learning of the Latin language, the French, and to speak categorically, of any other, since they are able to coin one word or another never before heard, I shall be railed at as a pedant. If, on the other hand, I should extol their fluency and genius, I am afraid that I would brand the mark of rusticity on our ancestors, who never did any such thing, {N3} nor thought any such thing, and that I would be representing as rude, inelegant, and meagre that language of theirs which I do extol with praise of its sweetness and abundance. Accordingly, since I do not wish to contribute anything myself to this quibbling, I shall contribute what has been decreed by those illustrious orators who embellished Roman eloquence both by precepts and examples. Thus, Marcus Tullius has stated in his De officiis, book 1, that we ought to use that discourse which is well known to us and rightly jeer at those who force in Greek words. Quintilian, a man of great culture, expressed the same opinion in book 1, chapter 6, that usage in discourse is the same as in coinage, the one which is the general form. And a little further on he asks, “How effective would an oration, whose chief virtue is clearness, be if it should require an interpreter?” Moreover, he praises this choice of words – words of long standing, which bring to a speech, he says, a dignity not without pleasure. For they have the weight of influence of antiquity, and because they have been neglected, they add the charm of novelty. But if this is true, then those expressions also which seem obsolete, such as of yör et Febus welked in ðe west, Hï wexed wud and yond, and others like them will at length acquire a charm; however, that stolen brood pondering, perpending, and revolüting, will always remain as examples of barbaralexis.

Synecdoche is the use of a part for the whole, or of the whole for a part:

Đou tu redïm ði wöful parents hëd,

Hast wandred thruħ ðe world nou long a däi:

Yit sësest not ðj wëri sölz tu lëd.

But dün ðj fïbl fït unwïting hiðer sträi?

hëd] for life, and when used for liberty is metalepsis.

a dai] “a day” is synecdoche, the use of a part for the whole, i.e. “time”. So

sölz] soles for feet, and fït, “feet”, for the whole person.

Him Kalidör ðus kari’d on hiz chjn.

chjn] the spine of the back is used for the back.

Chapter XX

The Syntax of Figures

The preceding has been a discussion of the trope as it concerns the choice of words. Now follows a discussion of the use of figures. A figure is seen either in one word only or in a whole {n. p.} sentence. Sound is observed in a word, as is syntax (as far as it differs from the usual practice). In syntax there is the loss, excess, or enallage of some word or perhaps of a clause, but this is a matter of the word only. Types of omission are (1) eclipsis, (2) asyndeton, (3) aposiopesis, (4) zeugma, (5) syllepsis.

1. Eclipsis is the omission of a clause or a word:

So of hï did hiz shïld, and dounward laid

Vpon ðe ground, ljk tu a holöu bër.

after laid the particle it is lacking.

Đe garland from hiz hed hï sün displäst,

And did it put on Koridons in stëd.

of his öun is lacking.

2. When different words are joined without any connective, we have articulus or asyndeton (Mancinelli):

Yür eiz, yür ërz, yür tung, yür tâlk resträin.

From ðat ðëi möst affekt, and in dv tërmz retäin.

For what hath ljf, ðat mai it luved mäk?

And givz not räðer kauz it dailj tu forsäk?

Fër, siknes, äʒ, los, läbor, soröu, strjf,

Pain, hunger, köld, ðat mäks ðe hart tu quäk;

And ever fikl fortvn raʒing rjf:

Ael which, and thouzandz mo, dü mak a lothsum ljf.

Αποσιώπησις, Aposiopesis, a Pause, a Breaking off, an Interruption

3. Aposiopesis is the sudden cutting short of a discourse:

In prinses kürt. ðe rest sï wüld hav said,

But ðat ðe fülish man, etc.

Sï held hir wrathful hand from venʒans för. {n. p.}

But drâing nër, ër hï hir wel beheld:

Iz ðis ðe faith (shï said?) and said no mör,

But turn’d hir fast, and fled awai for evermör.

Ζεῦγμα, Zeugma, a Joining

4. By zeugma, I include several meanings in one word (Despautère):

But, neiðer darknes foul, nor filthi bandz,

Nor noius smel, hiz purpöz küld withhöld.

And hï hiz fäz, hiz hed, hiz brest did bët.

Σύλληψις, Syllepsis

5. The use of a word referring to another to which it does not belong will produce syllepsis.

It differs from zeugma because in the latter no change of word is required. Here, however, a word which is linked with the one immediately preceding, but is related to another clause of the sentence, must be changed. Consequently, there is zeugma in every syllepsis, but not vice versa, as neiðer hï, nor yü, ar äbl tu mäk mï amendz, “neither you nor he are able to make me amends”. The verb ar related to another nominative is changed to iz; neiðer yü, nor hï iz äbl, “neither you nor he is able”, etc. For a verb, when it is related to two nominatives of different persons, agrees with the nearest one preceding it.

Every figure which exhibits redundancy is 1. a pleonasm, of which these in particular are the subdivisions: 2. macrology or perissology, 3. synonymy, 4. epithet, 5. schesis, 6. periphrasis, 7. hendiadys, 8. polysyndeton.

1. We have a pleonasm when anything in discourse exhibits redundancy:

Đei häv throuħ mani batails fouħt in pläs,

Hjħ rër’d ðeir roial thrön in Britain land.

in pläs is redundant.

Strâ mï ðe ground with dafadoundiliz.

Hence they differ in name rather than in matter. {n. p.}

2. Macrology or perissology and 3. synonymy:

And vanquisht ðem unäbl tu withstand,

the last clause is superfluous, as in another place also.

Hï folöued and pursved fast: folöued fast and pursved fast do not differ in meaning more than the Greek διώκω and Latin persequor, “follow after”.

Here you have an example of macrology:

But noius smel hiz purpöz küld not höuld,

But ðat with konstant zël, and kouraʒ böuld,

After long painz, and läbors maniföuld;

Hï found ðe mënz ðat prizner up tu rër.

with konstant, etc., through maniföuld, do not necessarily add anything to the meaning.

3. Through synonymy new words give precisely the same meaning:

Wï met ðat vilan, ðat vjl miskreant,

Đat kursed wjħt, from whöm J skäpt whjl-ër,

A man of hel, ðat kâlz himself Despair.

Epithet, Appositive, Attributive

4. A modifier fitting well with its noun is called an appositive:

But wjz Speranza gäv him kumfort swït.

This figure is nothing else but an adjective with a noun, however foolishly the grammarians may frolic. But if it is frequent in the same sentence, it is called number 5. schesis and it is an ornament of oratory.

If you ever attribute an epithet to all the nouns, or if perchance you add several to one, it is schesis:

Much gan ðei präiz ðe trïz so straiħt and hj,

Đe sailing pjn, ðe Sëdar proud and tâl,

Đe vjn-prop elm, ðe poplar never drj,

Đe bïlder ök, söl king of forests âl, {O}

Đe aspin gud for stävz, ðe sjpres fvneral, etc.

Ful mani mischïfs folou krvel wrath;

Abhored blud-shed, and tvmultvus strjf,

Unmanli murðer, and unthrifti skath,

Biter dispjt, with rankerus rusti knjf,

Đe sweling splïn, and frenzi raʒing rjf, etc.

Periphrasis, a Roundabout Way, a Going Around, Circumlocution

6. Periphrasis is when you talk around one thing by means of many words:

Hï ða ðe blud-red bilöuz, ljk a wâl,

On eiðer sjd disparted with hiz rod;

Til âl hiz armj drj-füt thruħ ðem yod.

That is, Moses. Under this figure are included all descriptions of places, persons, times and such, with which every poem abounds. If you wish, consult that same Farnaby.

^a Things, ^b places, ^c persons, ^d moods, ^e times past are made clear, displayed, and embellished by: ^fcharacterization.

Among grammarians these names have been allotted to the following. ^a Pragmatography, ^b topography or topothesia, ^c prosopography, ^d pathography, ^e chronography, which is also called ^f hypotyposis or enargia. If you wish further information about these, consult Susenbrotus and others. This is an example of chronography:

Nou, when ðe rozi-fingred morning faier

Wëri of aʒed Tjthönz safern bed,

Had spred her purpl röb thruħ deui aier,

And ðe hjħ hilz Titan diskuvered.

that is, a description of the rising of the sun.

7. Mobile fac fixum fiest sic hendyalismus.

Đo waxing wëri of ðat tüil and pain,

id est, painful tüil. {n. p.}

Prins Artur gäv a box of diamond svr,

Embou’d with göld, and gorʒeus ornament.

That is, with gold gorʒeusly adorned, or set out.

8. Polysyndeton, or polysyntheton as it pleases Despautère, is defined by him thus:

Multiplying of connectives makes polysyntheton.

But much more to our liking is Farnaby: the repeated connecting of words is polysyndeton.

Ael on konfvzed hëps ðei throng,

And snach, and bjt, and tug, and rend and tër.

Tu whom fäir semblans (as hï küld) hï sheud:

Bj sjnz, bj lüks, bj âl hiz oðer ʒësts.

Enallage, Alloiotheta, Alloiosis, Alternation.

If this exchange occurs in cases, it is antiptosis; if it occurs in number, it is synthesis. With us, any change of a word for a word is called enallage. Alloiosis is the replacing of a word by another:

Hï röuz’d himself ful bljð, and hästned ðem until,

for untu, however, in the northern dialect this is not enallage at all.

faint-hart fülz for faint-harted. of nothing täks hï kïp for kär.

Đei fled from pläs tu pläs with kouherd shäm,

So ðat with fjnal förs, ðem âl hï overkäm.

kouherd for kouherdlj, or kouherdljk; and fjnal for finalj. But this type of enallage requires poetic composition, which everyday discourse does not permit. For prose style would run thus: so ðat fjnalj, hï overkäm ðem âl with, or bj förs, “so that finally he overcame them all with” or “by force”. Nor is enallage in use among poets only, but in prose, too, among writers, and the porters in the markets, as mï thöuħt it shüld bï yü, {O2} and so mï thinks, “me thought it should be you, and so me thinks”, where the accusative mï is used for the nominative, and the third person thinks for the first.

Chapter XXI

Sound in figure

We have now come to those figures which are in a word by reason of its sound; i.e., a word is similar or the same, and this either in meaning or in sound only. A word of the same meaning is either repeated alone or with exegesis or interpretation. If it is alone, it is commonly at the beginning, where, if it occurs without interruption, it is called 1. epizeuxis; with interruption, 2. anaphora. It may also occur at the end, in which case it is 3. epistrophe, or it may occur in both places, and then it is called 4. epanalepsis. When it occurs at the end of the preceding clause and at the beginning of the clause following, it is called 5. anadiplosis. If in the latter case there is an advancing from weaker things to stronger, it is called 6. climax. Moreover, the frequent use of anaphora with epistrophe makes 7. symploce. Furthermore, if the same word is repeated with explanation, the figure is called 8. exegesis or enargia. On the other hand, if the word is the same in sound only, but has a different meaning, the figure is called 9. copulatio; if it is a word having a different sound, the figure is 10. antanaclasis. Finally similar words are either from one stem, in which case the figure is 11. polyptoton, and traductio, repetition; or it is from a different stem, in which case the figure is 12. paranomasia and 13. homoeoteleuton.

Epizeuxis or Subjunctio

1. The doubling of a word is a subjunction:

ðe lädi sad tu sï hiz sör konstraint,

Krj’d out, Nou nou sir Knjħt sheu what yü bï.

Horöu nou out and wel awai hï krj’d,

Pirökles, ô Pirökles! what iz ði bitj’d {n. p.}

J burn, J burn, J burn, hï krj’d aloud,

O hou J bürn with impläkabl fjer?

Repetition, Anaphora, or Epanaphora

2. The repeating of a word placed at the beginning is an anaphora:

Sum fëring shrïkt, sum bïng harmed houl’d

Sum lauħt for sport, sum did for wunder shout

And sum ðat wüld sïm wjz ðeir wunder turnd tu dout.

Conversio, Antistrophe, or to others Epistrophe.

3. Antistrophe occurs when more than one clause closes with the same sound.:

For truth iz ön, and rjħt iz ever ön.

Although English poems end in similar sounds, it does not end in the same words. Therefore, take a genuine example of antistrophe from Harington, our most charming Martial (Epigrams, book 3):

Konserning wjvz höuld ðis a ssertain rvl,

ðat if at first yü let ðem häv ðe rvl,

Yür self at last with ðem shal hav no rvl,

Eksept yü let ðem ever-mör tu rvl.

Epanalepsis

4. Epanalepsis is the use of the same word at the beginning and end (Mancinelli):

Böuld waz hiz chälenʒ, äz himself waz böuld.

Shäm bï hiz wurði mïd ðat mëneth shäm.

And if it is not distasteful to you, listen also to the epilogue of a very thick-skinned poet:

For yür päsiens wï thank yï;

Wï hav no mör tu sai, wï.

Anadiplosis, Reduplication

5. We have an anadiplosis when the last word of a preceding clause is the same as the word which begins the following clause. Let me give an example of each figure:

O tu dier luv! luv böuħt with dëth tu dier.

Đei for ðe luv of him wüld algat dj. {O3}

Dj whü so list for him, hï waz luvz enemj,

But of âl wizdum bï ðou prezident,

O soverain Quïn! whüz praiz J wüld endjt,

Endjt J wvld az duti duth eksjt, etc.

But by far the most beautiful example is that of our most noble Dyer:

J lük for no relïf, relïf wüld kum tü lät,

Tü lät J fjnd, J fjnd tü wel, tü wel stüd mjn estat.

Moreover, a repeated anadiplosis, if it also adds an advancing from weaker to stronger expressions, is called climax, or gradation.

6. Repeated Anadiplosis with [increasing] importance of the items is climax:

Doun on ðe bludi plain

Her-self shï t thrv, and tërz gan shed amain,

Amongst her tërz immixing praiers mïk,

And with her praierz, rëznz tu restrain

From bludi strjf.

You have also an example in the Arcadia of Sidney, our Anacreon, book 3, canto 1:

Rëzn tu mi passion ïlded,

Passion untu mi räʒ, räʒ tu a hasti revenʒ.

However, gradation is frequently disregarded in anadiplosis. Some, however, prefer to call this auxesis or increase (Arcadia, book 1, chapter 2 [paragraph 3]):

At length from hiz silent melankoli, hï grv kontent tu mark ðeir wit, after tu ljk ðeir kumpanj, and lastli tu vouchsäf konferens.

Of grjzli Pluto shï ðe dauħter waz,

And sad Proserpina ðe quïn of hel

Yet shï did think her pïerle s wurth tu pas

ðat parentaʒ, with prjd shï so did swel:

And thundring ʒöv ðat hjħ in hevn duth dwel,

And wïld ðe world shï klaimed for her sjr; {n. p.}

Or if ðat ani els did ʒöv eksel;

For tu ðë hjest shï did stil aspjr;

Or if öuħt hjer wër ðen ðat, did it dëzjr.

Symploce or Complexio

7. Symploce furnishes to the members a head and similar feet.

This figure also is rare among the poets because they do not apply the same sounds to the rhythm (as I have said above), but similar ones. However, note this example from Spenser, Faerie Queene, book 1, canto 8 [stanzas 32-33]:

Hï ʒentlj ask’t , whër â1 ðe pïpl bï,

Which in ðat stätli bïlding wunt tu dwel?

Whü answerëd him ful soft, Hï küld not tel.

Hï ask’t again, whër ðat säm Knjħt waz laid,

Whöm grët Orgolio with pvisans fel

Had mäd hiz kaitiv thral? again hï said,

Hï küld not tel. Hï asked ðen, which wai

Hï in mjħt pas? Ignäro küld not tel.

It often happens that a previous expression is renewed by exegesis, or by epexegesis, too. This figure is called enargia and interpretation or exposition.

8. Enargia explains and repeats an obscure word:

At last ðe painim chaunst tu kast hiz ei,

Hiz sudain ei, upon hiz broðers shïld.

Hiz dïerest Lädi dëd with fër hï found.

Her siming dëd hï found, with fained fër.

But hï her supliant handz, döz handz of göld;

And ïk her fït, döz fït of silver trj

Which söuħt unrjħhteusnes, and ʒustis söld

Chopt of, and naild on hjħ, ðat âl mjħt ðem bihöld.

Copulatio or Duplicatio

9. The same word with a different meaning is copulatio:

Suït Lädi, yü must swët, or elz (J swër it) {n. p.}

Wï shal âl swët for it, if yü forbër it.

swët in the first position means “to sweat”, its proper meaning; in the second position it indicates figuratively the suffering of labours or discomforts which those who sweat endure. And book 2, epigram 96:

Tu präiz mj wjf yür dauħter (so J gaðer)

Yür men sai shï resembleth möst hir faðer.

And J no les tu praiz yür sun hir bruðer,

Affirm ðat hï iz tü much ljk hiz muðer.

J knöu not if wï ʒuʒ arjħit or er,

But let him bï ljk yü, so J ljk her.

Antanaclasis

10. Antanaclasis is the use of words of the same sound, but of different meaning:

Markus në’r sëst tu venter âl on prjm,

Til of hiz aʒ qujt wästed waz ðe prjm.

J kâld ðï öns mj dïerest Mal in vers.

Which ðus J kan interpret if J wil,

Mj dïerest Mal, ðat iz mj kostliest il.

The first Mal is a fiction for Mary; the second is a French word borrowed from malum. These two figures are as frequent in the writers of epigrams as they are implicit, and thereby two meanings are indicated by a single word. You have such a coupling in book 1, epigram 50:

Lädiz yü bläm’d mj versez of skuriliti,

Whjl with ðe dubl sens yü wër dësëved

Nou yü konfes ðem frï from insiviliti;

Täk hïd hens-förth yü bï not miskonsëved.

miskonsëved, means either a false sense of the mind or to conceive an illegitimate child. Antanaclasis of this sort is in John Davies of Hereford’s epigram:

Moecho, for häst, waz maried in ðe njħt;

Wha t nïded däi? hiz fäir yung Brjd waz ljħt. {n. p.}

10 The repetition of various cases or various differences of a word is polyptoton or pleasant traductio.

When this figure is confined to the use of several cases, it is polyptoton; but it is much more appropriately called traductio by Marcus Tullius, Cornificius, or anyone else you wish, because this ornamentation does not concern cases alone, but every part of speech derived from the same stem:

And häving pläs’t my thouħts, mj thouħts ðus pläsed

Mï thouħt, nai svr J waz, Jwaz in fäirest Wud mï,

Of Samothéa land, a land ðat whjlum stüd

An onor tu ðe world, whjl onor waz ðeir end.

And ïk ðe Red-kros Knjħt gav her gud aid

Ai ʒoining füt tu füt, and sjd tu sjd.

Nou mai yï âl sï plain,

ðay truth iz strong, and trv luv möst of mjħt,

ðat for hiz trusti servants duth so strongli fjħt .

Agnominatio, Paronomasia, Parechesis, Parechia, or Adsonantia

11. Parechia is a play on words which are similar in sound:

So wel shï washt ðem, and so wel shï wacht him.

Fj but a man’s disgräst, nöted a novis.

Yë but a man’s mör gräs’t nöted of no vjs.

ðe mïd of ðem ðat luv, and du not liv amis.

12. Homoeoteleuton occurs when words have a similar ending.

Almost all our poetry is adorned with this, so that there is no need here for examples. {P}

Chapter XXII

The Figures of the Sentence

These have been figures of speech as they occur in the word. Now come those which are figures of the sentence. In the sentence consideration is given to the

order of the words and to the meaning. The order is either simple and continuous in 1. hirmos, or involved in 2. synchesis, or disordered in 3. hyperbaton and 4. parenthesis. The sense, in turn, is either excited as in 5. the exclamation and epiphonema, or it is corrected in 6. epanorthosis, or well-ordered in 7. antitheton, 8. inversion, 9. subjectio, and 10. epanodus, or it is abridged, as in 11. congeries.

Hirmos or Syrmos

1. A single, very long continuous discourse is hirmos:

I mj frail eiz ðëz ljnz with tërz du stïp

Tu think hou shï, thruħ gjlful handling,

Đoħ trv az tuch, ðoħ dauħter of a King,

Đoħ fäir az ever liuing wjħt waz fair,

Đoħ not in word nor dïd il meriting,

Iz from her Knjħt divorsed in dispair, etc.

Fresh shadöuz, fit tu shroud from suni rai;

Fair laundz, tu täk ðe sun in sëzn dv;

Swït springz, in which a thouzand nimfs did plai;

Soft rumblirg brüks, ðat ʒentl slumber drv;

Hjh rëred mounts, ðe landz about tu vv;

Löu lüking dälz, disloin’d from komon gäz;

Deljtful bourz, tu solas luvers trv;

Fair laberinths, fond runerz eiz tu däz: {n. p.}

Ael which bj nätvr mäd, did nätvr self amäz.

And âl without, etc.

Synchesis

2. Synchesis brings words and the whole meaning into disorder:

Đjn ô (ðen said ðe ʒentl Redkros Knjħt)

Next tu ðat Lädjz luv shal bï ðe pläs,

0 fairest virʒin ful of hevnli ljħt.

If you arrange these words in their correct order, you will have: Đen said ðe Redkros Knjħt, O fairest virʒin ful of hevnli ljħt, ðe next pläs tu ðat Lädiz luv shal bï ðjn. Even here there is an interchange, for the meaning is this. Đe next pläs tu ðj luv shal bï ðat Lädiz, for divine law demands that we choose the holy truth first, and honour princes second:

Grët thanks and gudli mïd tu ðat gud Sjr,

Hï ðens departing, gäv for hiz painz hjr.

That is, hï departing ðens, gäv tu ðat gud Sjr, grët thanks, ðe gudli mïd, and hjr for his painz.

Hyperbaton, Transgressio

3. Transposing the order of words constitutes a hyperbaton.

This figure seems to be served as soldiers serve a leader, by anastrophe or reversio, hysterologia, eysteron proteron, in the defining of which the grammarians, those subtle disputants, have deviated so slightly that I am not afraid of confusing them. Examples are to be found everywhere, as in the Faerie Queene, book 1, canto 5 [stanza 43]:

Whj fërest ðou, ðat kanst not höp for thing,

And fërest not ðat mör ðï hurten mjħt?

Whj fërest ðou ðe thing ðat ðou kanst not höp for;

And fërest not ðat which mjħt hurt ðï mör?

Whü sï yür vanquisht föz bïför yü lj.

Whü sï yür föz lj vanquisht beför yü. {P2}

Hypallage, called by us submutatio, is the interchange of the meanings of things by changing the order:

Đe god did graunt hiz dauħters dïer demaund.

for, demaund of hiz dïer dauħter.

And nou ðei dü with kaptiv bands him bjnd.

Parenthesis, Interpositio, Dialysis, or Dissolutio

4. An expression interposed in discourse constitutes parenthesis:

Donwallo dj’d (for what mai liv for äi?)

And left tü sunz of pierles proues both.

Ekphonesis, Exclamatio

5. Exclamatio indicates great disturbance of mind:

Mersi, mersi (Sir) voutsäf tu sheu

On sili däm subʒekt tu hard mischans.

Flj, ah flj far hens awai for fër.

O trustles stät of ërthlj thingz, and sliper höp

Of mortâl men ðat swink and swët for nouħt!

Related to this is epiphonema, or acclamatio, illustrated in the same passage:

Unwjz and witles men tu wit what’s gud or il.

Wï dïm of dëth az düm of il dezert:

But knv wï öns what gud it bringz us til,

Dj wüld wï dailj, öns it tu expert.

Đis said, adoun hï lüked tu ðe ground

Tu häv return’d; but däzed wër hiz ein

Throuħ pasing brjħtnes which did qujt konfound

Hiz fïbl sens, and tü eksïding shjn.

So dark är thingz on ërth kompär’d tu thingz divjn.

Epanorthosis or Correctio, Metanoea, Reprehensio, Aphorismos, and Paradiastole, that is, Difference or Conclusion {n. p.}

6. Epanorthosis denies words that have been spoken, and replaces them with more suitable ones:

Let dirʒ bï sung, and trentalz rjħtli red;

For luv iz ded, etc.

Alas J lj, räʒ hath ðis error bred,

luv iz not ded.

Luv iz not dëd but slïpeth, etc.

So waz hï overkum, not overkum,

But tu her yïlded of hiz öun akord.

J wreched wuman, nou yür kaitiv thrâl

Waz, ô what availeth what J waz?

Born ðe söl dauħter of an Emperour.

Antithesis, Antitheta, Enantiosis, Contrarium, Contentio

7. Antitheton occurs when you join opposites together:

Hensfürth in säf asvrans yï mai rest,

Having both 1 found a 2 nv 3 frind tu yür 4 aid,

And 1 lost an 2 öld 3 fö ðat did yü 4 molest.

At öns hï wardz and strjks, hï täks and päiz,

Nöu först tu yïld, nou försing tu inväd,

Biför, bihjnd, and round about him läiz,

So dubl waz hiz painz, so dubl bï hiz präiz.

Antimetabole, Commutatio, which we Call Inversio

8. Inversio causes words and meanings to be perverted from their proper meanings:

Hï fljing stil did ward, and warding flj awai.

It sïmd ðe wävz wër intu ivorj,

Or ivorj in tu ðe wävz waz sent.

Withâl shï lauħed, and shï blusht withâl:

Đat blushing tu her lauħter gäv mör gräs,

And lauħing tu her blushing.

Subjectio

9. Subjectio occurs when we answer ourselves: {P3}

And iz ðer kär in hëvn? and iz ðer luv

In hëvnlj spirits tu ðëz krëtvrz bäs,

Đat mai kompasion of ðeir ïvlz müv?

Đer iz. elz much mör wreched, etc.

But if tu luv disloialtj it bï,

Shal J ðen hät her ða t from dëthez dör

Mï brouħt? ah far bï such repröch from mï,

What kan J les dü ðen her luv ðërför.

Diskurteus, disloiâl Britomart,

What venʒans dv kan equal ðj dezart,

Đat hast with shämful spot of sinful lust,

Defjld ðe pleʒ komited tu ðj trust?

Let uglj shäm and endles infamj

Kuler ðj näm with foul repröchez rust.

Here belong anacoenosis and all those conversations which can be set forth by “I say” and “he says”:

Whër dwelz Mr. Kärles? ʒësterz hav no dweling.

Whër ljz hï? in hiz tung bj möst menz teling.

Whër bördz hï? ðer whër fësts är found bj smeling.

Whër bjts hï? âl behjnd, gainst âl men yëling.

Epanodos, Regressio

10. When you set forth first a whole thing in its entirety and then divide it into its parts, that is said to be regressio:

Of ðöz hï chöz out tü, ðe fâlsest tü,

And fitest for tu forʒ trv-sïming ljz:

Đe ön of ðem hï gäv a mesaʒ tu;

Đe oðer bj himself staid oðer wurk tu dü.

Ael ðat plësing iz tu living ër,

Waz ðër konsorted in ön harmonï.

Burdz, voisez, instrvments, wäters, wjndz, âl agrï.

Đe ʒoius burdz shrouded in chërful shäd {n. p.}

Đeir nöts untu ðe vois attempred swït:

Đ’anʒëlikal soft trembling voisez mäd

Tu ð’instrvments divjn respondens mït:

Đe silver-sounding instrvments did mït

With ðe bäz murmur of ðe wäterz fâl:

Đe wäterz fâl with diferens diskrït

Nou soft, nou loud, untu ðe wjnd did kâl.

Đe ʒentl warbling wjnd löu answered untu âl.

The Opposite of This is, in a Measure, Congeries, Coacervatio, Synathroesmos, Epitrochasmos

11. Congeries brings scattered things together into one whole.

A poetic rhapsody in verse entitled Dëdlj swïtnes:

Swït thouħts, ðe füd on which J fïding starv;

Swït tërz, ðe drink ðat mör augment mj thirst;

Swït eiz, ðe starz bj which mj kours duth swarv;

Swït höp, mj dëth which wast mj ljf at first;

Swït thöuħts, swït tërz, swït höp, swït eiz,

Hou chânst ðat dëth in swïtnes ljz?

The same with the title Brëk hëvi hart:

Mjn eiz, no eiz, but fountainz of mj tërz:

Mj tërz, no tërz, but fludz tu moist mj hart:

Mj hart, no hart, but harbour of mj fërz:

Mj fërz, no fërz, but filing of mj smart.

Mj smart, mj fërz, mj hart, mj tërz, mjn eiz

Ar bljnd, drj’d, spent, past, wästed with mj krjz.

And yit mjn eiz, ðoħ bljnd, sï kauz of grïf:

And yit mj tërz, ðoħ drj’d, run doun amäin:

And yit mj hart, ðoħ spent, atendz relïf:

And yit mj fërz, ðoħ past, inkrës mj pain:

And yit J liv, and living fïl mör smart:

And smarting, krj in vain, Brëk hëvi hart. {n. p.}

Here, with the exception of congeries, you have uninterrupted anaphora, epanorthosis, anadiplosis, asyndeton, zeugma, and less acceptably regressio, all respectable figures of speech. But so that you may not impudently turn up your nose too much at this smoke of fumigation, I will tie you up a nice nosegay of goat’s beard, which they call cacosyntheton, cacozelos, cacophaton, or cacemphaton. True, our language is vigorous and takes pleasure in a harshness of sound which is not absurd (yet seldom even then and discreetly as with other figures of speech); yet such usage has one very great fault, namely, that it expresses too much the leisure of the writer and cacozelia. You have an example in Aeglog 10:

And when ðe stuborn strök of stronger stound

Hath sumwhat slakt ðe tenor of ðj string.

These words of Tusser also, (unless the real name of the author has been forgotten) are in this unhappy category:

Täk thankfulj thingz, thanking tenderlj ðöz,

Đat tëch ðj thriftilj ðj tjm tu transpöz.

All these words in the original mode of transcription began with t, and that, too, more tastefully than Plaudite porcelli porcorum pigra propago or any macaronic verse of Merlin Coccaie.

Chapter XXIII

Excellences

A Warning to the Reader

While I was searching out pearl-bearing shells for the ornamentation of discourse, I fell upon sharp pointed rocks and rough places, from which my discourse has finally struggled back to land with difficulty. There are several reasons for this roughness. One lies in the diverse methods which writers follow; another lies in the names which each one bestows upon figures of speech according to his own pleasure, names so numerous in some instances that they render more obscure {n. p.} a matter which is of itself quite clear; the third lies in the fact that writers divide some figures which by their very nature are united. To these causes are added some others, such as the fact that they restore to figures of speech certain obscure and common grammatical principles, and the fact that they have deflected to rhetorical resources figures which were devised merely for embellishing discourse. In all of these I have so disagreed with the grammarians at different times that I would wish that others would also disagree with me, that is, to effect a clearer exposition of the matter. What I have said has sufficient excuse if perhaps you will observe that some figures are lacking which others include; for so far as I am concerned, they either are not figures at all, or they are unworthy of stealing into the register, or they are figures which can be reduced to these or ought to be forced into other company. In the examples I have adduced, the desire for brevity will save me from blame and reproach if, while I set forth the bare examples of figures apart from context, nearly all the bloom of the style has disappeared. Nor are these figures rare to any great degree among our poets, or the only ones. Indeed, I admit that there are more than those which the Latins have. These, however, I shall not hunt down ostentatiously, lest a speech hitherto obscure and considered of no value may obtain jealousy instead of praise, if it should strive for the palm of eloquence in competition with those languages already famous and highly prized. Still there are a few figures which I neither ought to pass over in silence, nor am I able to – figures which do not adorn one sentence only but are continued in a succession of sentences. Of these the only one and the most distinguished among the Latins is epimone. The following is an example of it:

So doun hïl fel, and fürth hiz ljf did brëth,

Đat vanisht intu smök, and kloudez swift:

So doun hï fel, ðat ð’erth him undernëth

Did grön, az fïbl so grët löd tu lift:

So doun hï fel, az a hvʒ roki klift,

Whüz fâls foundäsion wävz hav washt awai,

And röuling doun grët Neptvn duth dismai:

So doun hï fel, and ljk a hëped mountain lai.

Unthankful wrech (said hï) iz ðis ðe mïd

With which her soverain mersi ðou dust qujt?

Đj ljf shï säved bj her gräsius dïd:

But ðou dust mën with vilenus dispjt

Tu blot her onor, and her hëvnli ljħt.

Dj, raðer dj, ðen so disloialj

Dïm of her hjħ dezert, or sïm so ljħt, {Q}

Fäir dêth it iz tu shun mör shäm, ðen dj,

Dj, raðer dj, ðen ever luv disloialj.

But if tu luv disloialtj it bi,

Shal J ðen hät her ðat from dëthez dör

Mï brouħt? ah far bï such repröch from mï.

What kan J les du ðen her luv ðerför,

Sith J her dv reward kannot restör?

Dj, räðer dj, and djing du her serv,

Djing her serv, and living her adör.

Đj ljf shï gäv, ðj ljf shï duth dezerv.

Dj, räðer dj, ðen ever from her servis swerv.

And now so that we may not always be quoting the Sidneys and the Spensers, take as an example the epilogue of a tale which a poet wrote in the northern dialect, and to which he gave the title Machiavellus the Criminal:

Mächil iz hanged,

And brened iz hiz bvks.

Đoħ Mächil iz hanged,

Yit hï iz not wranged.

Đe dïl haz ’im fanged

In hiz krvked klvks.

Mächil iz hanged,

And brened iz hiz bvks.

This is epimone; all the others which follow I call by the one name exocha or excellences. If you wish to designate any of them by their individual names, I shall be in your debt. One occurs when the hearer or reader is kept in doubt and suspense and then is enlightened as to which thing or person, the things which are said will finally apply, as the Faerie Queene, book 2, canto 10 [stanza 37]:

Đen up aröz a man of machles mjħt,

And wundrus wit tu manaʒ grët afäirz:

Whü stird with piti of ðe stresed pljħt

Of ðis sad rëlm, etc.

Finally, after verse 24, there follows [stanza 40]. {n. p.}

Donwalo dj’d, from which words it finally becomes known who was the author of such glorious deeds.

Under ðat pörch a kumli däm did rest,

Klad in fäir wïdz. After verse 17, there follows

Whërat Ekses eksïdinglj waz wröth.

Whether you call this figure synchesis or hyperbaton, it is certainly conspicuous; but, since it is more effectual in influencing the mood of the hearer than in adorning discourse, it will be deferred to another discussion. All these figures which follow are wholly concerned with the embellishment of discourse. Faerie Queene, book 2, canto 6 [stanza 13]:

No trï, whüz branchez did not brävli spring;

No branch, wheron a fjn burd did not sit;

No burd, but did hir shril nöt swïtlj sing;

No song, but did kontain a luvlj dit,

Trïz, branchez, burdz, and songz, wër främed fit

For tu alvr frail mjndz tu kärles ëz:

Kärles ðe man sün wox, and hiz wëk wit

Waz overkum of thing ðat did him plëz.

So plëzed, did hiz wrathful küraʒ fair apëz.

How great is this artist? What the sentence? How many figures? Anaphora, traductio, and what others consider isocolon, schesis, anadiplosis, asyndeton, congeries, gradatio, if I may leave unnoticed the fine points. Does it not embrace almost the entire Rhetorica of Taleus together with scene-painting? Now listen to a finer illustration:

möst wreched man

Đat tu affeksionz duz ðe brjdl lend:

In ðeir beginning ðei ar wëk, and wan,

But sün throuħ sufferans, gröu tu fërful end;

Whjlz ðei ar wëk, bitjmz with ðem kontend;

For when ðei öns tu perfekt strength du gröu,

Strong warz ðei mäk, and krvel batri bend {Q2}

Gainst fort of Rëzn it tu overthröu.

Wrath, ʒelosi, grïf, luv, ðis squjr hav laid ðus löu.

Wrath, ʒelosi, luv, du ðus expel.

Wrath iz a fjr, and ʒelosi a wïd;

Grïf iz a flud, and luv a monster fel:

Đe fjr of sparks, ðe wïd of litl sïd;

Đe flud of drops, ðe monster filth did brïd:

But sparks, sïd, drops, and filth, du ðus delai:

Đe sparks sün quench, ðe springing sïd outwïd,

Đe drops drj up, and fi lth wjp klën awai,

So shal wrath, ʒelosi, grïf, luv, dj and dekai.

Here is another example unlike this one, yet no less graceful:

Among ðëz knjħts ðër wër thrï breðern böuld,

Thrï böulder breðern never wer iborn;

Born of ön muðer in ön hapi möuld,

Born at ön burðen in ön hapi morn,

Thrjz hapi muðer, and thrjs hapi morn,

Đat bör thrï such! thrï such not tu bï fond.

Her näm waz Agape, whüz children wërn

AEl thrï az ön; ðe first hjħt Prjamond,

Đe sekond Djamond, ðe yungest Trjamond.

Stout Prjamond, but not so strong tu strjk;

Strong Djamond, but not so stout a knjħt;

But Trjamond, waz stout and strong aljk.

On hors-bak vzed Trjamond tu fjħt,

And Prjamond on füt had mör deljt;

But hors, and füt knv Djamond tu wïld.

With kurtax vzed Djamond tu smjt;

And Trjamond tu handl spër and shïld;

But spër and kurtax both, vz’d Prjamond in fïld.

Now you will admit that we have omitted nothing which pertains to the adornment of discourse. Nor is our Homer, in short, I mean our Spenser, {n. p.} the only one to employ this type of language. But he is more exact in the refinements of language, and, as he is more fluent, so is he more eminent; again, he is more richly supplied with varieties of invention and much more skilled in the concept of his material, inasmuch as he describes the moral virtues in accordance with all their circumstances, in a language most appropriate and fluent, and decorated with the most pleasing poetic images. Moreover, as to the familiarity with which Homer (as indeed Aeschylus and others of the older poets) treated the gods, and as to his nodding so often over blemishes in his work, as did Virgil also by his example, either we must pardon an art of poetry as yet undeveloped, or else we must blame the men themselves who either thought that they were permitted every license, or expected that their readers would not be sufficiently attentive and sharp-sighted, or were not themselves sufficiently good judges and teachers of Decorum. But, I repeat, Spenser is not alone in this kind of learning, for you will find among other poets also a great many examples of this sort. But out of respect, however, I quote only Sidney:

Đe fjr tu sï mï wrong’d for anger burneth

Đe äier in tërz for mjn affliksion wïpeth,

Đe së for grïf tu eb hiz flöuing turneth,

Đe ërth with piti dul her senter kïpeth,

Fäm iz with wunder bläzed,

Tjm flïz awai for soröu,

Pläs standeth stil amäzed,

Tu sï mj njħt of ïvlz which hath no moröu.

Alas âl onlj shï no piti täketh

Tu knöu mj mizerjz, but chäst and krvel

Mj fâl hir glöri mäketh:

Yit stil hir eiz giv tu mj flämz ðeir fvel.

Fjr, burn mï qujt til sens of burning lëv mï:

Aier, let mï drâ ðis breth no mör in anguish:

Së, droun’d in ðï of vital breth birëv mï:

erth, täk ðis ërth whërin mj spirits languish:

Fäm, sai J waz not born:

Tjm, hast mj djing ouer:

Pläs, sï mj gräv up-torn:

Fjr, äier, së, ërth, fäm, tjm, pläs, sheu yür pour.

Alas from âl ðeir helps am J exjled,

For herz am J, and dëth fërz hir displëzvr; {Q3}

Fj dëth, ðou art bigjled,

Đoħ J bï herz, shï sets bj mï no trëzvr.

Chapter XXIIII

Poetic Syntax

Utensils are made from different materials for all sorts of uses, but a precious stone is displayed only in a most elaborate gold setting. Thus, language is suited to the expression of every idea of the human mind, but in poetry, where nothing should be heard unless it is uncommon, correct, polished, charming, novel, and far removed from popular conception and fancy, language is not praiseworthy unless it is faultless, alive, and striking. There are, therefore, two things which, with the exception of subject matter, distinguish poetic syntax from prose: embellishment and rhythm. Embellishment is what I have been calling figurative language, somewhat rare in prose, and not present at all in those figures which I have called excellences, quite frequent in poetry and indeed so pleasing there, since it is so necessary that it seems as if the idea neither could nor should be expressed in any other way. In this respect, however, some would-be writers frequently err, for they indulge in the ornamentation of language with such license of expression that it would seem as if they were conducting some gorgeously apparelled harlot to the theatre rather than marrying some chaste maiden. Theory as to metre in poetry has travelled in different directions: whether it should be rhythmical, or it should depend on quantity. I shall settle the quarrel later as best I can. Whatever the metre may be, however, that metre seems to glide a long most pleasantly when it differs in faultless language as far as possible from ordinary syntax.

Example:

It iz ðe mjnd ðat mäketh gud, or il;

Đat mäketh wrech, or hapi, rich or pör. {n. p.}

For ön ðat hath abundans at hiz wil,

Hath not inuħ; but wants in grëtest stör:

Anoðer ðat hath litl, sïks no mör,

But in ðat litl iz both rich and wjz:

For wizdum iz möst richez. etc.

But because poetic metre and grammatical order do not always agree, and because the poet must of necessity observe both, metre is more common in tropes for the sake of the rhythm, and in hyperbaton for the sake of quantity; sometimes it is even forced into synchesis:

Shï fäirlj him bisöuħt-

Himself tu chërish, and konsvming thöuħt

Tu put awai out of hiz kärful brest.

In every rhythmical type of poetry, the last syllable of the verse must by its very nature be capable of a sharp accent if the rhythm is to be masculine, i.e., if the verse is a catalectic; if the verse is hypercatalectic, then on the penultimate, for here the last syllable is hypermetric. Moreover, in this trimetre catalectic poem (for all the verses with the exception of the last in each stanza are decasyllabic) there must be a stand in the last syllable of the first measure or at the beginning of the one following, that is in the fourth or sixth syllable, nor can this be placed anywhere but on the syllable which receives the acute accent. This procedure, however, is not followed in ordinary syntax, according to which the lines would read:

Shï fäir bisöuht him

Tu cherish himself, and tu put awai

Konsvming thöuħt out of hiz kärful brest.

And for that reason there was need of metathesis of words or hyperbaton for the proper quantity; and, for the sake of the rhythm, of metonymy of the surrounding brest for that which is surrounded, the hart. There is, moreover, a certain transposition of words which the English language will make so easily that it will be adjudged to differ in no way from the ordinary syntax. However, if this stress is not made according {n. p.} to the rule which I have described, but is made more frequently, this is the poet’s failing; if it is made less frequently so that the rest seems more beautiful, it has a place as cacemphaton. There is an example of this in the same poem:

In ashez and sakklόth hï did aräi

Hiz dainti körs etc. for sákkloth.

And this is the syntax which I have called poetic.

Prosody

Prosody is the fourth division of Logonomy and concerns accent and metre. We have explained the pronunciation of letters in the Grammar [section]. There follows next an explanation of the accent as it concerns individual words, and as it concerns a whole composition and the proper interpunctuation.

Chapter XXV

Accent

The prosody of words is perceived through usage rather than by rules; it is all a matter of accent. Accent is twofold: grammatical and rhetorical. It is grammatical when one vowel or diphthong in every word is affected. It is rhetorical when, for the sake of impressing the sense more deeply on the mind, the emphasis is laid on one word rather than on another. All monosyllables, being complete in themselves, are understood to have an acute accent, but compounds sometimes have the accent on the first syllable, as hόrsman, shíphük, sometimes on the second syllable, as withstánd, withdráu, himsélf. Certain ones are so compliant that they take the accent on either syllable, as church-yard, outrun, outräʒ.

Dissyllables may be oxytone, as, bilív, asúr, aswáʒ, {n. p.} enfόrs, konstráin, or paroxytone, as píti, kúler, fόlöu.

Trisyllables sometimes are paroxytone, as regráter, bilúved, akquáinted; sometimes they are proparoxytone, as mízeri, désteni; sometimes they are without distinction of accent, as förgoing, förstâler.

Moreover, it should be observed that in some words we draw back the accent with so much force that no length of syllables caused by nature or by position exerts any opposition; and this is true not only in our words, such as fόrester, kárpenter: but also in those words which petty scholars have admitted from the Latin, as aúditor, kompétitor, kόnstansi, réʒister, témperans, instrvment, múltitvd. Moreover, there is need here of double caution: first, that you except those words which have been completely transferred into our language and which we treat with that kindness with which we treat foreigners who live according to their own law and custom, as Amintas, Erinnis, Baricado. Second, that you except those from Latin ending in io, which, however much they may have yielded to our rule, still retain their native accent on the antepenult, as opínion, satisfáksion, and others ending thus, as mínion, fránion, etc.

Words of several syllables also quite frequently receive the accent on the fourth syllable, a thing which does not occur in other language which I know, as ôkvpjer, víʒilansi, líteratvr: and almost all those which end in munger or abl, as kόsterdmunger, íernmunger, márchantabl, máriʒabl, mízerabl, όnorabl. You will call it extraordinary to find the accent on the fifth syllable; yet read these: múltipliabl, vítrifiabl, Kόnstantinopl, and perhaps several others.

There are two things which change the accent: difference and poetic rhythm. Difference occurs when a word is set against a word in a certain manner; this transfers the accent to the syllable preceding the one usually accented, as du yü täk mï rjħt, or místäk mï?, “do you take me right, or mistake me?”. So also wíthhöld, únthankful, díshonestlj, dísonorabl, dísonorablj, and únmëzvrablj. Classify here dezért, {R} “that which one deserves”, and dézert, “that which is deserted, a solitude”, etc. The poetic rhythm of a proparoxytone in i often gives an acute accent to the last syllable when it is prolonged, as mizerj, konstansj, destinj: whence it also generally obtains in prose that the last syllables whether long or short are written and pronounced in the same manner, though not given an acute accent.

Judgment concerning rhetorical accent is more difficult to give, because each one has his own different one. The matter can be better understood by an example:

Mj song, if ani ask whüz grïvus plaint iz such

Dj, ër ðou let hiz nám bï knöun: hiz fόli shöuz tü much

But best wër ðï tu híd, et nèver kum tu ljħt:

For ön ðe érth kan nön but ’J, ðjn aksents sound arjħt.

We have said that all monosyllables have an acute accent, that is, in accordance with grammatical accent; but in the course of speech, only those words have oratorical accent, or a certain energy of accent, in which there is force and vividness of feeling. All others preceding these should, in a measure, be considered as not having the accent on the last syllable. Accordingly, I read those words in such a way that the first verse flows uninterruptedly and uniformly. In the second verse there is an emphasis on the three little words, dj, nám, fόli, for, according to the apparent meaning, the song must die rather than reveal the name of the author, whose great folly is an evil omen. But from the antanaclasis involved, without the comma between the dj and er, let ðou hiz näm bï knöun, “let thou his name be known”, djer will be too flat even with the accent on the first syllable, and should be pronounced without the oratorical accent. I choose to read the next two verses thus, accenting hjd and néver in the first; érth, J, and djn, in the second. Another, however, may perhaps, read it otherwise, and that with equally good reason. And these are the rules governing the acute accent, both grammatical and oratorical. The grave accent is understood to exist wherever there is no other accent. The circumflex is heard more frequently in other dialects than in the common one. Nevertheless, even here there is sometimes such an accent on some word as to change the meaning; for example, J {n. p.} am afráid of him, “I fear from him”, and J am afrâid of him, “I fear what may become of him”.

Marks of interpunctuation are an aid to the accent because, by disclosing the meaning, they pave the way as far as possible for the accent. Our marks are the same as those of the Latins and their use is the same: the comma [,], the semi-colon [;], the colon [:], the period, or the full stop of a sentence and the sense [.]. To these you may add the interrogation mark [?] and the exclamation mark [!]. In the parenthesis (I speak to those who know) nothing ought to be included which bas a syntactical connection with any word in the rest of the sentence; the sub-parenthesis [( )], however, may include that which indeed can be omitted but which is construed with some other word of the sentence.

Example:

Đe (best said hï) ðat J kan yü advjz,

Iz tu avoid ð'okäzion of ðe il.

Đe kauz remüved whens ð’ïvl duth arjz

(Az sün it mai) ð’efekt sursëseth stil.

Here is added the apostrophe in ð’efekt, and in compound words the hyphen [-], as hart-ëting, grïf, and finally, if you will permit, o reader, in diaeresis, the diastole […] in synaeresis, the harpe [ʊ], as in okäzion, a trisyllable. But common usage rarely grants a place to these and to sub-parentheses.

Chapter XXVI

Metre

Metre, which is widely accepted in our language, sometimes means rhyme itself in poetry; sometimes it is the terminology given to all discourse constricted by numbers. For thus {R2} we oppose metre and prose. But here I employ the term for every quantity of a syllable, of a foot, of metre in its correct meaning, and of poetry.

The Syllable

The length of syllables is determined in seven ways: 1.by the vowel, 2. by the diphthong, 3. by the accent, 4. by position, 5. by derivation, 6. by prefix, 7. by metaplasm.

1. The Vowel and 2. the Diphthong

In grammar it is perfectly clear which syllable should be judged long or short from the vowels which we have said are either long or short. 1. Poets, however, freely shorten those ending in 1, because in the flow of speech the accent on the neighbouring syllable absorbs its length. But if the syllable is affected by any grammatical or rhetorical accent, it is not shortened, as mj moni, “my money”, ‒ ◡ ◡.

2. V at the end of a word is either long or short, as nv, “new”; trv, “true”. But if a consonant is added at the end of that same monosyllabic syllable, then v is long, as svr, “sure”; pvr, “pure”. This is also true in words of two syllables if the v has the accent, as manúr, “manure”; refúz, “refuse” as a verb. Whereas the accent on the first syllable leaves the last one doubtful, as in réfvz, the noun. 3. A vowel or diphthong is not necessarily shortened before a vowel as in Latin, but on the contrary, a long vowel or a diphthong is always prolonged before a vowel if it carries the accent, as deníing, “denying”; displáied, “displayed”. 4. A vowel or diphthong sometimes is taken away by poetic license through synaloephe, but most frequently u is lost in tu, the sign of the dative and of the infinitive, and e in the article ðe, but not always. In ðou before art the diphthong is often dropped.

3. Accent

Every syllable having an acute accent or a circumflex is long, and particularly so if it is not the first syllable of the word {n. p.}, for a first syllable naturally short often receives the accent, as góing, dúing, áni, spírit, bódi, which even if they are known to be short from the vowel, nevertheless frequently through the force of the accent become common as in that choriambs Lädi ladï.

2. In trisyllables also an acute accent on a short syllable before a liquid sometimes makes the syllable either long or short, as in máladj, “malady”; símoni, “simony”; ʒéneral, “general”; benefit, “benefit”.

3. A short vowel in the last syllable before a double liquid, or even a single liquid, is made either long or short under the force of an accent, as begín, “begin”; distíl, “distill”; defér, “defer”; prolong, “prolong”. This same thing will also be caused by the accent in the case of very sharp monosyllables, as áx, “axe”; ʒúʒ, “judge”; fél, “fell”; sín, “sin”; sóng, “song”; wár, “war”; ʒár, “jar”. Moreover, certain short vowels before a mute also follow this form, as búd, “bud”; bút, “butt”.

4. every syllable before the accented one is short, as dezjr, “desire”; abröad, “abroad”; abándon, “abandon”; devíded, “divided”; divínlj, “divinly”; bilíving, “believing”; prevented, “prevented”, unless nature prevents as in förgóing, “foregoing”; förspéking, “forespeaking”, or position, as forgótn, “forgotten”; forgiving, “forgiving”. But the accent here is so powerful that in the case of a doubled mute it forces out one, as aténd, apíring, opözed, adrésed, pro atténd, “attend”; appïring, “appearing”; oppózed, “opposed”; addressed, “addressed”. But whether to elide a consonant or not is left undecided for the poet.

5. Syllables which consist of consonants only must be counted short because they never receive the accent, as sadl, “sadle”; trubl, “trouble”; moistn, “moisten”.

6. rhetorical accent often shortens preceding long syllables, as If yi bi âl thïvz, what höp hav J?, “If ye be all thieves, what hope have I?”, where the vowels long by nature in yï, bï, häv are shortened by reason of the accents in âl and J.

4. Position

In different words position is often forceful, as with the Latins, but in the same word accent is more powerful than position, so that {R3} in trisyllables the accent falling on a fist syllable either sounding by nature or long by position will shorten both the following syllables, as in Chéstertun, “Chesterton”; Wímbldun, “Wimbledon”. Nor will anyone who knows English dare to deny that Ténterden stïpl, “Tenterden steeple”, is an Adonic verse, for here the accent is so powerful that it destroys position even in different words. You will confirm this same thing if you should hear the people of Sussex pronounce Wáterdoun fórrest, “Waterdown forest”, so clear is the accent on the first syllable of the trisyllabic word even though it be not raised by position. Here, however, there is need of caution, for if 1. n or ng accompanies position, the middle syllable is lengthened, as Sémpringam, “Sempringham”; Trúmpingtun, “Trumpington”; A'bington, “Abington”; Wímundam, “Wymondham”; wílfulnes, “wilfulness”, etc. what I have said will be seen by example.

What if a dai, or a munth, or a yër, “What if a day, or a month, or a year”: is undoubtedly a hemistich consisting of two dactyls and a choriambs. No one lingers long over sö it befel on a Péntekost dai, “so it befell on a Pentecost day”, except to note that the particle it because of position seems to follow more slowly. However, nothing is more well rounded than that western ivél for bifél, for the position in kost in no way impedes the quantity because of the accent in pen. At other times position has power towards length, as Gilzland, London, harvest.

5. Derivation

Derivatives usually have the same quantity as their primitives, as dj, djing, “die”, “dying”; dezjr, dezjred, “desire”, “desired”; profän, profänlj, “profane”, “profanely”. Exceptions are those derivatives from long primitives, which shorten a vowel long by nature, as from mjzer [comes] mizerabl, mizeri, “miser, miserable, misery”; and the irregulars of the first conjugation which change the stem vowel, as from rëd, red, “read”; from swët, swet, “sweat”; from wrjt, writ, “write”; strjk, strik, “strike” etc. to these add one verb belonging to the third conjugation, dü, did, “do, did”. In the second class of exceptions belong those words derived from foreign words in which the quantity of syllables is changed in nature, position or accent, as from the Latin verb noto, tu nöt (“to note”); from magnifico, tu magnifj (“to magnify”); from potens, pötent (“potent”), etc. {n. p.} But impotent, omnipotent follow their own nature, a procedure which you will perchance observe in several other words.

6. The Prefix

The inseparable prefixes a, bi, re, also un, dif, mis are shortened if position permits. The quantity of all the others is sufficiently clear from their own vowels.

7. Metaplasm

Metaplasm occurs when a syllable or a word is changed, for the sake of necessity or charm, from its own form to another. Here you can place all the dialects which I formerly mentioned, except the common one. And although every metaplasm is not of use in perceiving the quantity of syllables, nevertheless, because several types are pertinent here, we shall explain them all.

^a^{Prothesis adds a beginning syllable whereas ^baphaeresis removes one}, as

^aarjħt, emmüv for rjħt, müv (“right”, “move”); and in an elegant imitation of Latin composition, efraid, “afraid”, for fraid, “fraid”; ^bvenʒer, “venger”, for avenʒër, “avenger”.

^aSyncope takes from the middle of a word what ^bepenthesis inserts, as

^ahumbles, whüever for humblnes, and whosoever; ^berrand for ërand.

^aApocope takes away a final syllable, whereas ^bparagoge adds one, as

What J ðe ^abet for ðj, “What I the bet for thy” (Spenser), for beter, “better”; ^btelen and displëzen, “tellen” and “displeasen” (Chaucer), for tel, displëz.

^aEcthlipsis, the loss of a consonant ; ^bsynaloepha, the loss of a vowel.

Examples

^aFäm with abundans mäketh a man thrjs blessed an happi, “fame with abundance maketh a man thrice blessed and happy”, for and happi. {n. p.} ^bFirst, let Simmerian darknes bi mi önl’ habitäsion, “first, let Cimmerian darkness be my onl’ habitation”, for önlj.

^aSystole shortens long; ^bdiastole lengthens short, as from Sidney:

untu Cvpid ðat buoi shal a pedante bi found, “unto Cupid that boy shall a pedante be found”, where the first syllable in “pedante”, from παιδὸς, is shortened.

^bDiastole is called tasis, ecstasis, or extension. You will find an example in Sidney again:

Đat bj a bodi it göz, sins bj a bodi it iz,

ubi a trochee is made from the pyrrhic bodi contrary what its nature can allow. This is illustrated more accurately in Speculum tuscanismi:

Ael gallant virtvz, âl quallitiz of bodi and söul.

You will find in Stanyhurst and others numerous examples of this sort:

Sins mj nöz outpëking (gud Sir) yür lip-labor hindredth.

For there is no truth in the statement written by a certain one, namely, that dominion over the syllables has been granted to those who were the first to define their quantity; for syllables are by their own nature (that is, according to the idiom of their own particular language) either long or short or doubtful, however much bad poets misuse their quantity.

Synaeresis occurs when one syllable is made from two.

This type of metaplasm is most frequent in passive verbals in ed, as luv’d for luved, “loved”, and a great many others, as ev’rj for everj, “every”, and the trisyllables whatsoever, okäzion (“occasion”). Nor does synaeresis occur in a single word only, but also in different owrds, as is’t not inuħ? for iz it not, “is it not [enough]”, and in these formulas of common speech: much gud du’t yü, for du it. So also was’t, for’t, whüz dër for waz it, for it, whü iz dër (“was it, for it, who is there”) etc. {n. p.}

Diaeresis, or Dialysis

Diaeresis is said to separate one syllable in two, as, from Spenser,

Wündes, kloudes, handes, for wündz, kloudz, handz (“wounds, clouds, hands”). Related to this is:

Tmesis, Diacope, or Intercisio

Tmesis occurs when a word is separated into two parts, as

Tu us ward, for toward us.

Metathesis

Metathesis is formed correctly if you transpose the element of a word, as

vouched säf, for vouchsafed (“vouchsafe”). Spenser, löm whjl, for whjlöm.

Antithesis or better, Antistoechos

It is antistoechos if a letter is changed. Spenser: fön, ein, hond, lond for föz, “foes”; eiz, “eyes”; hand; land. In this connection you can note those forms of the third person indicative present in s, z, ez, for eth, as hï spëks, luvz, tëchez, for spëketh, luveth, tëcheth (“he speaketh, loveth, teacheth”). These are examples not only of antistoechos but also of synaeresis.

These you may call by one name metaplasm.

What I have said about the quantity of syllables will seem so distasteful to the ears of those who have become accustomed to Latin prosody that I can never take sufficient precaution for myself, or sufficiently reconcile them. But if a short syllable is given the value of one beat, and a long syllable, of two, I call truth as judge, and the ears of musicians as witnesses, and to these I entrust my whole case. Moreover, I urge those very ones who have haled me into court to remember in how many ways the Latins deviated from the Greeks, and – not to mention meaning, gender, syntax everywhere in prosody, how they wandered as far as the East is from the West. The letter ωmega is hardly prolonged in the word ambo – I and our Apollo forbid! But because there is need for a more extensive discussion of these matters later, I shall dismiss them for the present.

English poetry employs three disyllable feet: the spondee ‒ ‒, the trochee ‒ ◡, and the iambus ◡ ‒. Five trisyllable feet: the tribrach ◡ ◡ ◡, the molossus ‒ ‒ ‒, the dactyl ‒ ◡ ◡, the anapest ◡ ◡ ‒, the amphimacer ‒ ◡ ‒; and only {S} two tetrasyllables, of which the one is the fourth paeon ◡ ◡ ◡ ‒, and the other the choriambus ‒ ◡ ◡ ‒.

Chapter XXVII

Rhyme in Poetry

We have left nothing untried in the different types of poetry; yet those who have written rhymed poetry have succeeded better than those who have written in the in the measures of the Latins. And however fiercely the learned contend that they are following the measures of the Greeks and Latins, the result assuredly does not correspond to their desires. And since, while I am trying to reach a safe harbour my discourse has been dashed upon this rock as if by some fate, I think I should strive with oars and sails to prevent it from being completely shattered and broken. And so that it may not be driven hither and yon over the waves, once it has been drawn off the rock, I shall first of all let down this venerable anchor; namely, that every language has its own idiom whereby it differs from another not merely in its inflection and in its whole grammatical structure, but also in its pronunciation, its accent, and its entire prosody. In the case of our language, this has been clearly demonstrated in a preceding chapter. Secondly, the rules of any language ought not to, and cannot, control the idioms of another, for in that case they would no longer be idioms but characteristics common to each. Moreover, the whole scheme of Logonomy demands that there should be assigned to each individual language, its own rules of inflection, of syntax, and of prosody in general. And to make a long story short, the Greek and Latin languages (let me draw my conclusions largely from them) do not have the same rules of prosody. For example, the vowels α, ε, ι, ο, and the diphthongs αι, οι, in poetry are elided or not before another vowel or diphthong. A short vowel before a single liquid is often lengthened, as Ἄρες, Ἄρες βροτόλοιγε. The vowel of a following word is sometimes {n. p.} elided after a preceding vowel. Long vowels or diphthongs are common when others follow them. There is not one of these rules which holds true in Latin prosody, to say nothing of the tremendous freedom with which

the Greeks shorten long vowels or lengthen short ones to fit the exigencies of the metre. Mentally survey the Latin offspring – I mean the Spanish, Italian, and the French languages. What, pray, is the reason why they do not follow the prosody of Latin poetry? Idiom. It is quite possible that they have tried Latin metres just as we have done, but they have merely tried them without accomplishing their purpose, for assuredly there is not one single respectable poem among them written in the metres of Latin poetry. And what prevents? Idiom. What is more, if you compare the Greek elegy with the Latin, you will meet with those of Theognis, Solon, Tyrtaeus, and others, together with the poems of Catullus, Tibullus, and particularly those of Ovid; and you will find Ennius and Virgil. All that I have said hitherto can be reduced to one statement; namely, that our prosody should not be circumscribed by the rules of the Greeks or Latins, but should be measured only by our own yardstick. Nor should you think that the mark of crudity is branded upon the English tongue because we do not eagerly pursue Latin metres. Out with it now! How many languages do compose verse thus? Are they all barbarians? Are they all to be despised in comparison with the Greek or Latin? Certainly if the Hebrew language is the first of them all, it will also be by far the best, inasmuch as it was the one bestowed upon Adam from Heaven; and yet the poetry of the ancient prophets was not bound by the rules of Latin poetry, for had it been, it would not have been completely unknown. More recently certain ignorant professors fearing no criticism have been satisfied with a threefold variety of rhymes. And since experience is the best teacher of anything, let us gain it by some examples:

Iz it onorabl for a man, a nesessiti försing,

Fâlslj tu forsäk öld frindz and stik tu a nv kum? {S2}

I ask you, what ornamentation is there here? Where is the metre by which the verse differs from the ordinary syntax? Assuredly this scheme of quantity in syllables which Latin prosody requires can be observed in the word onorabl, “onorable”, but there is also a most unseemly blemish in it, in that the first syllable is shortened contrary to what the scheme of our accentuation demands and all the others which are short with us are lengthened. The other verse is unsuitable because entire feet are composed of single words, a thing which would not be tolerated in Latin poetry, as Tityrus egit capras laeto gramine pastas. With us, however, this has to be on account of the large numbers of monosyllabic words.

Therefore, there is nothing which the erudite Campion contributes when he brings this charge that our epics fail miserably because of our lack of the dactyl, for polysyllables, he says, are ponderous and monosyllables are unsuited for gliding, and hence, also cumbersome. But the real hindrance lies in those two factors which I have already mentioned: the accent, which is generally contrary to the Latin rules concerning quantity, and the foot ending in complete words. But if our metre is not adapted to the most serious type of heroic verse because of its heaviness, it is much less suited to lines in which the trochee, the iambus, and the most rapid feet predominate. But the accusation of slowness does not rest upon our language, for it embraces in abundance every kind of metre and is adorned by every grace and all the charms of eloquence. Accordingly I make this decree: that it is most unfair to our words if they are to be weighed in the balance of the Latin language, and in like manner, that the various types of Latin poetry are most unsuited to our poetry. Further, we should rather retain that type of poetry which until now has been called rhymed, for in it there is every beauty of metre and in addition the very own feet of the Latins, not of course according to their regulations, but according to our own rule, which after all is the only one suited to our usage – I mean that the feet are evaluated according to the accent. Now without further digression I shall present some verses of Campion himself from his Observations, chapter 4. If the lines are made to have a {n. p.} homoioteleuton, they will appear to differ in no way from the most ordinary verses of any poet you like.

Tel ðem, ðat piti or perversli skorn
Pür Inglish poesi, az ðe släv tu rjm;
Yü ar ðöz lofti numberz	ðat revjv
	which adorn

Trjumfs of prinsez, and	stern traʒedjz;
Trjumfs of prinsez, and	ðeir happi tjm;

And lërn hensfürth t’attend ðöz happi sprjts
Wüz bounding fvuri, heiħt, et waiħt	afekts.
Wüz bounding fvuri, heiħt, et waiħt	deljts.
Asist ðei läborz, and sit klös tu ðem,
Never tu part awai til for dezart,

Đeir brouz with grët Apolöz baiz	ar hid
	yi hem
Whü first tauħt numerus aksents praiz’d bj art:
Hï’l turn hiz glörj from ðe funni kljmz.

Đe	north-bred wits alön tu	patronjz.
Tu	north-bred wits alön tu	sing in rjmz.

Here you have the same metre, the same feet, but – you say – those perpetual end-rhymes are odious, for they detract from the dignity of the language and particularly so on the stage, where stern tragedy rises up. This evil, however, has been sufficiently remedied by our poets, who have kept metre, at the same time abandoning rhyme, except at the end of a long speech where a couplet is often found to lighten the tragic style. I admit that the writers of tales have employed metre too unrestrainedly and too often have neglected it in comedy, a fault which I consider more unbecoming to the poet than if he were to bring the actors onto the stage without toga or mantle. And since rhyme is everywhere the characteristic charm of our poetry, it behooves the poet to not to neglect it, but so to regulate it that the industry of the writer may win praise {S3} and the charm of the poem, favour. Spenser’s Aeglog 8 will serve as an example:

Yï wästful wudz bër witnes of mj wö,

Wherin mj plaints did oftntjmz resound:

Yï kärles burdz ar privi tu mj krjz,

Which in yür songz wër wunt tu mäk a part:

Đou plëzant spring hast luld mï oft a slïp,

Whüz strëmz mj trikling tërz did oft augment.

Rezort of pïpl duth mj grïfs augment:

Đe wâled tounz du wurk mj grëter wo:

Đe forest wjd iz fiter tu resound

Đe holöu eko of mj kärful krjz, etc.

Many other ways and means can serve to moderate rhyme so that it will not cause nausea or weary the ears – ways which the writer of tales may discover in proportion to his industry, or which he has already discovered and may imitate. But, however that may be, both kinds of poetry will owe a considerable debt to me for having shown by means of my orthography of words such an easy way to the different kinds of metaplasm, which is so necessary in every type of poetry.

I come, therefore, to the types of poetry, first to those which rhyme, and secondly to those which imitate Latin activity. I have said that the foot is the measure of every kind of poetry and hence is called metre in our language. Now grammarians list three main types of poetry: dramatic, epic, and lyric, to which I add a general class which includes the epigram, the dialogue, the elegy, the epitaph, the letter, etc. All of these, of course, can be catalogued under the first classes as far as they agree with any one of them, or a combination. Dramatic and epic poetry are content with practically only one kind of metre, the pentameter. However, Spenser’s epic, or heroic, verse has for every ninth line a hexameter to lend weight and a certain strength of position. In dramatic poetry, poets mistakenly {n. p.} neglect end-rhymes which are continuous in the epic. Sometimes in the latter, however, verses are grouped in two’s, sometimes in four’s, in which case the first line frequently rhymes with the third, and the second with the fourth. If there are six lines in a group, the Italians and hence we, too, call it a stanza. Here the first four rhyme, as has been said before; the last two are a couplet. In some schemes, there are seven lines in a group, where the first line rhymes with the third, the second with the fourth and fifth, and the last two with each other. But since in pentameters this frequent occurrence of rhymes is too sing-song for the expression of serious matters, a scheme has been devised of eight verses, in which the first line rhymes with the third, the second with the fifth, the fourth with the sixth, and the two end lines with each other. You will very easily observe Spenser’s metres from the examples of the figures of speech which I call excellences. Lyric poetry is composed of from two, or perhaps more, to six types of metres, which range from monometer to octameter, but never to more than eight feet. These metres also can be catalectic or acatalectic. Take this example from Ode 14 of Ben Jonson.

Hexacolon, Decastrophe

Nou ðat ðe herth iz kround with smjling fjer,

And sum du drink, and sum du dâns,

Sum ring,

Sum sing,

And âl du strjv t’advâns

ðe mvzik hjer:

Whërför shüld J

Stand silent bj?

Whü not ðe lëst

Both luv ðe kauz, and autorz of ðe fëst.

Here you see that no verse longer than the pentameter is employed; {n. p.} you can also observe that almost no foot of all those which I have hitherto mentioned is used except the disyllable. Nevertheless, other feet are found now and then and also the octonarius, as in that very charming song of Thomas Campion, tetracolon decastrophe. So that you may perceive the metre more correctly, I print it with the notes:

1695112170-logonomiatraduzione_html_ca5959c3a7ab7c4e.png

What if a dai, or a munth, or a yër, kroun ðj

Kan not a chauns of a njħt, or an ouer, kros ðj

1695112170-logonomiatraduzione_html_95d8f0994f2b2a5a.png

dezjrz with a thouzand wisht kontentingz?

deljt s with a thouzand sad tormentingz:

1695112170-logonomiatraduzione_html_2c3421b917e4460b.jpg

Fortvn, onnor, beuti, yuth, är but blossumz djing:

Wanton plëzvr, döting luv, är but shaddöuz fljing.

1695112170-logonomiatraduzione_html_3c069f193eec15f9.jpg

AEl our ʒoiz är but toiz, jdl thouħts dësëving.

Nön hath pouer of an ouer, in ðeir ljvz birëving.

The first two lines consist of eight feet, bit their length is compensated by the frequent use of dactyls in the first, second, fourth, and fifth feet and the choriambic in the third. The next two lines consist of six feet, the third of which is a molossus; the rest, spondees. The last lines consist of catalectic dimeters and an acatalectic trimeter. Notwithstanding that these metres of the lyric poets are highly suited to songs, still heroic poems composed according to the example of the Latins {n. p.} and other epics have been set to music by skilled musicians, notably Byrd and several others, just as the paraphrase of the Psalms has been done by Nathan Chytraeus.

That type of poetry which I have called general, most nearly approaches the first two, the epic and the dramatic, because the poems are almost all of one kind, or possibly two; the measure, however, may be one or another, for some are dimeters and range all the way to hexameters. The heptameter was in use among translators of the past century, Phaer, Golding, and others. In more recent times it is more rarely used alone, but in sad poetry, it is sometimes combined with the hexameter to produce the elegy.

Example:

Hï ðat hiz mirth hath lost; whüz kumfort iz dismaid,

Whüz höp iz vain, whüz faith iz skorn’d, whüz

trust iz âl bitraid

If hï häv held ðem dier, and kanot sës tu mön;

Let him kum täk hiz pläz bj mï, hï shal not rv alön.

Elegiac poetry has other measures, especially the pentameter, but in some dimeters the inequality of the metres lifts up the weight of the suject matter, as in this example from the poems of Davison, page 200:

O faithles world! and ðj möst faithles part,

a wumanz hart!

In conclusion, our poets so run riot in kinds of poems and in rhythms and in combinations of both that almost nothing can be contrived of which you will not find abundant examples among them.

Chapter XXVIII

Poetry Composed in the Metres of the Latin Poets

I shall explain, therefore, those types of poetry which imitate Latin examples. We have already stated that the decision {T} should be concerning the metres themselves, and so it will be sufficient to set forth some bare examples. Stanyhurst has translated in heroic verse the first four books of Virgil’s Aeneid, catching the meaning to a certain extent and by a fairly clever device, if I may be frank; but there is no need of a personal opinion. Nevertheless the measures are linked so awkwardly that he seems to have striven after laughter rather than to have translated poetry:

J ðat in öld sëzn with rïdz Otn harmoni whistled

Mj rvral sonnet: from forrest flitted, J forsed

Đe sulking swinker ðë soil ðoħ kraggi tu sunder.

Nor are those elegiacs which follow and to which he returns twenty-two times of any better coinage:

Qua ratis egit iter, iuncto bove plaustra trahuntur;

Postquam tristis hyems frigore vinxit aquas.

Whër ships saild, ðe wagonz är nou draun strongly with oxn:

Bj rezn of ðe river knit with a frosti soder.

But the inspired genius of Sidney and his fluency of diction cause his words so to flow that you would say that he has surpassed the Latins in genius and equalled them in eloquence. Let Echo be a witness of this (Arcadia, book 2, canto 29):

Fair roks, gudli riverz, swït wuds, when shâl I si pës?

Pës? whu debarz mj tung? whu iz it ðat kumz mi so nj?

The equal of these lines are the elegiacs of the Arcadia, book 3, canto 1:

Untu a kaitjv wrech, whüm long affliksion höldeth,

And nou fulli bilïvz help tu bi qujt perished,

Graunt yit, graunt yit a lük, tu ðe last monvment of hiz anguish

O yu (alas so I fjnd) kauz of hiz onli rvjn!

Canto 19, book 1 of the Arcadia addresses his hope in Sapphics:

If min eiz kan serv tu du harti ërand,

Or min eiz languaʒ shi du hap tu ʒuʒ of,

So ðat eiz messäʒ bi of hir resëued ,

Hop wi du liv yit, etc.

Among the poems of Davison, page 123, you have an example of Phalaecium verses, which are improperly called hendecasyllables, for the Sapphics also {n. p.} consist of eleven syllables:

Wizdum warnz mi tu shun ðat öns J söuħt for,

And in tjm tu retjr mi hasti fütsteps, etc.

Moreover, you will find in the way of examples of the Latin poets almost all types of lyrics in that translation of the Psalms of David which was begun by Philip Sidney and brought to a close by others. Also, in addition to those kinds of poetry which we have mentioned, you have eight others to be found in the little book by Campion already cited. We shall give the metre in which he wrote the individual poems and as many verses as will be sufficient for illustration. First, however, the reader should be advised that our verses, consisting of only five feet and usually of disyllables, are, because of the heaviness of our language, the equal of the six-foot verses of the Latins. This heaviness or slowness of our is usually attributed to the numerous monosyllables, but I prefer to attribute it to the frequent occurrence of consonants. For among the Latins a syllable consists of only one, or two, or less frequently, three consonants with a vowel, as ultima linea rerum mors; whereas in our sonorous and vigorous language, you will find with one vowel three, four, five, or even six consonants, as mör, stör, strong, thirst, stormez, strength, strengths (“more, store, strong, thirst, storms, strength, strengths”).

The first of Campion’s poems is composed of pure iambics without exception, as:

Đe mör sekvr, ðe mör ðe strök wi fïl

Of unprevented harmz: So glümi stormz

A pier ðe sterner, if ðe dai bi klier.

Moreover, in the first foot, the second, and the fourth, the mixed iambus admits, in place of the iambus, a tribrach, a spondee, or a dactyl, and rarely an anapest, the latter in the second or the fourth foot. I have already given an example of this is in Tel ðem ðat pitti or perversli skorn, etc. Sometimes, too, there will be found a tribrach in the third foot, as:

Sum träd in Barbari, sum in Turki träd.

Likewise: Men ðat du fâl tu mizerj, quikli fâl. {T2}

Sometimes a tribrach occurs in the fifth foot, as Renoun’d in ev’ri art ðër livz not ani.

Also a trochee is permitted in the first foot, provided that a spondee, a dactyl, or a tribrach follows in the second foot.

Example of ‒ ◡, with ‒ ‒

Az ðe fair sun ðe ljħtsum hëvn adornz.

Example of ‒ ◡, with ‒ ◡ ◡

Nöbl, inʒenius, and diskrïtli wjz.

Example of ‒ ◡, with ◡ ◡ ◡

Beuti tu ʒelosi bringz ʒoi, sorro, fër.

These, then, are the metres of iambic verse:

‒ ‒	‒ ‒		‒ ‒
‒ ◡	◡ ◡ ‒		◡ ◡ ‒
‒ ◡ ◡	‒ ◡ ◡		‒ ◡ ◡
◡ ◡ ◡	◡ ◡ ◡	◡ ◡ ◡	◡ ◡ ◡	◡ ◡ ◡
◡ ‒	◡ ‒	◡ ‒	◡ ‒	◡ ‒

I would like the fair-minded reader to observe in this table how many feet are allotted to the tribrach, the dactyl, and the anapest, feet most unsuited to our language, suitable though they may be to others. and yet even so (as we have shown above) nothing except homoeoteleuton is lacking to the most familiar verse.

The second type of poetry is iambic dimeter, consisting of two feet, the first of which can be a spondee, a trochee also, or an iambus; the second, an amphimacer or a fourth paeon.

Examples:

Räving war bigot

In ðe thirsti sandz

Of ðe Libian jlz,

etc.

Nëver of ði praiz

Bï tü prödigâl:

Hï ðat praizeth âl,

Kan praiz trvli nön.

The third type is trochaic pentameter, consisting {n. p.} of a trochee, a spondee, or an iambus, followed by four trochees. It is a measure suited to epigrams:

What ðoħ Harri bragz? let him bi nöbl;

Nöbl Harri hath not hâlf a nöbl.

The fourth type is the elegiac dicolon, the first verse of which is a mixed iambic pentameter, which we have explained above, and the second consists of two dimeters. The first of these dimeters admits a trochee or a spondee in the first foot and an amphimacer in the second; the second dimeter permits a trochee only, in the first foot, and a dactyl or an amphimacer in the following foot. This is because the last syllable of each verse is considered common. This metre is suited to elegies and epigrams, as:

Konstant tu nön; but ëver fâls tu mï:

Traitor stil tu luv, thruħ ði faint dezjrz.

Not höp of pitti nou, nor vain redres,

Turnz mj grïf tu tërz, and renv’d laments, etc.

Example of an epigram:

A wjz man wäri livz, yit möst sekvr;

Sorröuz müv not him grëtli, nor deljts:

Fortvn and dëth hi skorning, onli mäks

Đ’ërth hiz söber In; but stil hëvn his höm.

The fifth type is the Anacreontic consisting of two feet which can be either trochees or spondees without distinction, as

Follöu, follöu

Đoħ with mischïf

Arm’d; lik whirlwjnd

Nou shï fljz ðï.

Til dëth, faint not

Đen, but follöu.

Küld J kach ðat

Nimbl traitor

Skornful Laura;

Sün ðen would J

Sïk avenʒment.

What’s ð’ avenʒment?

Prosträt löu, tu

Beg for mersj.

The three types which follow are better suited to songs if {T3} only the long syllables are assigned to the longer notes, and the short syllables to the shorter notes, an important consideration in all melodies.

The first of these types corresponds to the Sapphics, the first three verses of which are trochaic, as we have mentioned above, except that the first foot is always a spondee, and the fourth verse consists of three trochees, as

Faiths pvr shïld, ðe Kristian Diana,

Inglandz glöri, kroun’d with auful onnor;

Liv long with triumfs, tu bles ði pïpl,

At ðj sjħt triumfing.

The second type is the tricolon tetrastrophe, for the first verse of each group is a dimeter as mentioned above, except that the first foot is only a spondee or a trochee. The two following verses are trochaic tetrameter, which can have a spondee or a trochee in the first foot with three trochees following. The fourth verse is a trochaic dimeter as:

Röz-chïkt Laura, kum,

Sing ðou smüðli, with ðj beutiz

Sjlent muUzik, eiðer oðer

swïtli gräsing.

The third type is the tricolon pentastrophe, the opposite of the preceding type, for here the first verse is trochaic dimeter; the three following verses are trochaic tetrameter; and the fifth is iambic dimeter consisting of a spondee or a trochee and an amphimacer, as:

ʒust bigjler,

Kjndest luv, yi önli chastest;

Roiâl in ði smüð denjâlz;

Frouning, or demvrli smjling,

Stil mj möst deljt.

FINIS

{n. p.}

Aadvice to the Reader

From the sacred and unchangeable inscription on the Cross written in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, these have been the languages consecrated to making known Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. Just as this was accomplished through the writings of the prophets in the Hebrew tongue, although Hebrew was not commonly in use among any race in the times of Pilate, so also it is being done in the Latin tongue and will be done from day to day until the children of God scattered through many nations shall be united into one through the aid of language. And for that reason that inviolable spirit of Christ which governs the universal company of Christian teachers has, through the one language, that is, Latin, a language common to no people and therefore not liable to changes, established today as great a knowledge of languages as never existed in ages past. And truly for this reason there should be bestowed upon these three languages all honour, to the sharing of which no other can come. However, after you leave these languages, you must indeed confer upon the English language the first rank. For if knowledge of the Divine utterances be sought, as should be the first care of a Christian, they are translated from Hebrew and Greek into English with such grace and such fluency that they are expressed a thousand times better (as Tyndale says) in English than in Latin, and there will be no need of circumlocution where word corresponds to word correctly and fully. Hence it has resulted that for some centuries before Luther (after whom almost all Europe read the sacred writings in their own tongue) the sacred Scripture was translated into English. There is still extant Wycliffe’s version of the Bible written about the year 1370. There are extant the Gospels with the glosses of Eadfrid, Bishop of Lindesfarne, written about the year 700. For this reason also a great many theologians, though they were thoroughly conversant with the Latin language, still preferred to write in English, because they felt that through this medium they could best express their doctrines and most nearly arrive at the truth of the facts themselves. I shall pass over, in this connection, the kings, the princes, and the peoples converted to the faith of Christ through the aid of the English tongue: Sebert, Edwin, and the other kings of the Saxons by Ethelbert: Guthurn, by Aelfrid; Cnut, also, that illustrious king of Denmark, and by his example, his whole people; all of Batavia, instructed by Willebrod; the Westphalians, by the two Ewalds; the Hassi and Thuringi by Winfrid. I prefer to call to mind those matters which present usage and the present age find praiseworthy. And so, if you will turn your attention from sacred subjects to the other arts, there is nothing in Physics, nothing in Mathematics which you cannot find in English. Moreover, we have made ours the histories of all nations {n. p.} through the industry either of writers or of translators.

What is more, no one doubts how deep is the darkness which engulfs the writers of the Middle Ages, but this, by the knowledge of the English language is becoming brighter than day itself. Indeed, you will understand this fact better when a book, which is now on the press, is published, that is, the Glossary of Henry Spelman, who has augmented his knightly rank by his wide learning, and especially by his great knowledge of antiquity. As a result Conrad Gessner has concluded quite rightly the knowledge of the English language will be of the utmost value in disentangling the origins, the meanings, and the orthography of the old Saxon and Germanic language. Also, so that there may be nothing missing in our language which could attract the attention of a mind desirous of learning, we have translated almost all the worthwhile poets. Moreover, we have ourselves published other poems which those renowned poets themselves would admire if they were alive. One disadvantage, you say, presents itself – a certain roughness of expression or difficulty in pronunciation. But this fault is a very trivial one and of a sort to deter only the lazy. For if you pronounce correctly these five little words, What think ðe chözn ʒuʒez? (“What think the chosen judges?”), you have surmounted every difficulty in speaking. Then, too, such is the facility of the English language that you can easily indicate by means of the two articles or by the addition of signs every difference of numbers, cases, moods, tenses, and persons. Consequently, this will be the easiest method of learning it: first, that you learn to read perfectly according to our principles, comparing our orthography with that hitherto used in printed editions of authors; second, that you learn the rules of the declensions and conjugations, a light task which should take two days; and third, that you learn comparison and especially the irregularities. And if you would wage this war under your own generalship, you have as auxiliaries the English-Latin dictionary of John Minsheu, or in one volume, the English-Latin and Latin-English of Rider. So, whether you wish to transpose our phonetic system into theirs or theirs into ours, it will be very little work. I admit that lexicographers collect counterfeit words or even invent them; they slight English words or even are quite ignorant of them. Indeed, you will hear ours among the artisans and country people rather than find them among the writers. Meantime, until they come to their senses, make use of your present advantages and hope for better things. And if you acquire a companion who will speak with you in English whenever you hold your daily conversations, you will marvel that you meet so many words already known to you before this from their appearance in German, French, and ancient Latin. And do you, Reader, pay heed to my admonitions and receive my blessing.

The End

ħï him-self	hath	dun it	he himself	has done it
ðe Ladi her-self			the lady herself
ðei ðem-selvz	hav		they themselves	have done it
ðe pïpl ðem-selvz			the people themselves

These govern the accusative		bitwïn, between
a, to		intu, into
about	about or	njħ, nigh or near
	around	thuro or	through
abuv, above		throuħ
akording tü, according to		corresponds also to the Latin
after, after		compounds from trans, as transeo, I pass
against	against or	thuro.
	opposed, in	toward or	toward
composition gain, as tu		towardz	towards
gainsai, to contradict		tu, to
among, among three or more		without, without
at, at, often to		within, within
behjnd, behind		untu, to, unto
bineth, beneath bisjd, beside		Latin cis and citra are expressed by our
beyond, beyond		on ðis sjd,
		on this side, and Latin penes by
		in ðe pouer, as te penes
		imperium, ðe rvl iz in yür pour, the rule is in your power, or more commonly, it iz in yür pour tu komaund

far of, far off	under
from	on or upon
in	privili, secretly
opnlj, openly	wiith, without
up tu, up to	ðen, then, after a compara tive is rendered by “than”, as

An English Logonomy by which the discourse of the people is more easily improved, written by Alexander Gil, high master of Paul’s School. Second edition, a little more correct, but more suited to the common use

ToC