<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:9.3.64-9.3.70</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:9.3.64-9.3.70</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="eng"><body><div n="urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2" type="translation" xml:lang="eng"><div n="9" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="3" type="textpart" subtype="section"><div n="64" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But these devices are so common that they can scarcely lay claim to
                            involve the art essential to <hi rend="italic">figures.</hi> On the
                            other hand it is quite obviously <hi rend="italic">figure,</hi> when two
                            different constructions are combined as in the following case: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">Sociis tunc arma capessant</l><l part="N">Edico et dira bellum cum gene gerendumn.</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> iii. 234; <hi rend="italic">participio</hi> = gerundive ( <hi rend="italic">gerendum</hi> ). </bibl></cit></quote> (I bid my comrades straight to seize their arms And
                            war be waged against a savage race.) For although the portion of the
                            sentence following <hi rend="italic">bellum</hi> ends with a participle,
                            both clauses of the sentence are correctly governed by <hi rend="italic">edico.</hi> Another form of connexion, which does not necessarily
                            involve omission, is called <foreign xml:lang="grc">συνοικείωσις,</foreign> because it connects two different things,
                            for example: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">The miser lacks</l><l part="N">That which he
                                            has no less than what he has not.</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Syrus</hi> 486
                                        (Ribbeck). </bibl></cit></quote>
                     </p></div><div n="65" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> To this figure is opposed <hi rend="italic">distinction,</hi> which they
                            call <foreign xml:lang="grc">παραδιαστολή,</foreign> by which we
                            distinguish between similar things, as in this sentence: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Rutil.</hi> i.
                                4. </note>
                        <quote> When you call yourself wise instead of astute,
                                brave instead of rash, economical instead of mean. </quote> But this
                            is entirely dependent on definition, and therefore I have my doubts
                            whether it can be called a figure. Its opposite occurs when we pass at a
                            bound from one thing to something different, as though from like to
                            like; for example: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">I labour to be brief, I turn
                                        obscure,</l></quote><bibl default="false"> Hor <hi rend="italic">A.P.</hi> 25.
                                    </bibl></cit></quote> with what follows. <pb n="v7-9 p.485"/>
                     </p></div><div n="66" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is a third class of <hi rend="italic">figures</hi> which attracts
                            the ear of the audience and excites their attention by some resemblance,
                            equality or contrast of words. To this class belongs <hi rend="italic">paronomasia,</hi> which we call <hi rend="italic">adnominatio.</hi>
                            This may be effected in different ways. It may depend on the resemblance
                            of one word to another which has preceded, although the words are in
                            different cases. Take the following passage from Domitius Afer's defence
                            of Cloatilla: <hi rend="italic">Mulier omnium rerum imiperita, in
                                omnnibus rebus infelix.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><quote>A woman unskilled in everything and in
                                    everything unhappy.</quote></note>
                     </p></div><div n="67" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Or the same word may be repeated with greater meaning, as <hi rend="italic">quando homo, hostis homno.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The meaning is obscure. As punctuated, the
                                sense is <quote>since he is a man, the man is an enemy,</quote>
                           <hi rend="italic">i. e.</hi> the utterance of some misanthrope. Or a
                                question-mark may be placed after <hi rend="italic">homo</hi> and
                                the meaning will be <quote>since he is a man, can he be an
                                    enemy?</quote>
                        </note> But although I have used these examples to
                            illustrate something quite different, one of them involves both <hi rend="italic">emphasis</hi> and <hi rend="italic">reiteration.</hi>
                            The opposite of <hi rend="italic">parononasia</hi> occurs when one word
                            is proved to be false by repetition; for instance, <quote>This law did
                                not seem to be a law to private individuals.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">In Pis.</hi>
                                xiii. 20. </note> Akin to this is that syled <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἀντανάκλασις,</foreign>
                     </p></div><div n="68" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> where the same word is used in two different meanings. When Proculeius
                            reproached his son with waiting for his death, and the son replied that
                            he was not waiting for it, the former retorted, <hi rend="italic">Well
                                then, I ask you to wait for it.</hi> Sometimes such difference in
                            meaning is obtained not by using the same word, but one like it, as for
                            example by saying that a man whom you think <hi rend="italic">dignus
                                supplicatione</hi> (worthy of supplication) is <hi rend="italic">supplicio adficiendus.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> In old Latin <hi rend="italic">supplicium</hi>
                                was used as equivalent to <hi rend="italic">suppliratio,</hi> and
                                this use survives in Livy and Sallust. But in Augustan and
                                post-Augustan language the normal meaning of <hi rend="italic">supplicium</hi> was <quote>punishment,</quote> and the natural
                                translation would be <quote>worthy of punishment.</quote>
                        </note>
                     </p></div><div n="69" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There are also other ways in which the same words may be used in
                            different senses or altered by the lengthening or shortening of <pb n="v7-9 p.487"/> a syllable: this is a poor trick even when employed
                            in jest, and I am surprised that it should be included in the
                            text-books: the instances which I quote are therefore given as examples
                            for avoidance, not for imitation. Here they are: </p></div><div n="70" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">Amari iucundum est, si curetur ne quid insit
                                amari,</hi><note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Auct. <hi rend="italic">ad Herenn. iv.</hi> 14: <quote> It is pleasant to
                                    be loved, but we must take care that there is no bitterness in
                                    that love. </quote>
                        </note> and <hi rend="italic">Avium dulcedo
                                ad avium ducit;</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><quote>Birds' sweet song leads us into pathless
                                places.</quote></note> and again this jest from Ovid, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Probably from a collection of
                                epigrams: <quote>Furia, why should I not call you a
                                fury?</quote>
                        </note>
                        <quote rend="blockquote"><l part="N">Cur ego non
                                    dicam, Furia, te furiam?</l></quote> Cornificius calls this <hi rend="italic">traductio,</hi>
                     </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>