<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-eng2:9.4.62-9.4.81</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:9.4.62-9.4.81</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="4" type="textpart" subtype="section"><div n="62" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Consequently all harshness and abruptness must be avoided at this point,
                            where the mind takes breath and recovers its energy. It is there that
                            style has its citadel, it is this point that excites the eager
                            expectation of the audience, it is from this that the declaimer wins all
                            his glory. Next to the conclusion of the period, it is the beginning
                            which claims the most care: for the audience have their attention fixed
                            on this as well. </p></div><div n="63" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But the opening of the sentence presents less difficulty, since it is
                            independent and is not the slave of what has preceded. It merely takes
                            what has preceded as a starting point, whereas the conclusion coheres
                            with what has preceded, and however carefully constructed, its elegance
                            will be wasted, if the path which leads up to it be interrupted. Hence
                            it is that although the rhythmical structure adopted by Demosthenes in
                            the passage <foreign xml:lang="grc">τοῖς φεοῖς εὔχομαι πᾶσι καὶ
                                πάσαις;</foreign>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">De Cor.</hi> I. <quote>I pray to all gods and
                                    goddesses.</quote>
                        </note> and again in another passage (approved
                            by all, I think, except Brutus) <foreign xml:lang="grc">κἄν μήπω βάλλῃ
                                μηδὲ τοξεύῃ,</foreign>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Phil.</hi> iii. 17. <quote>Even though he neither
                                    shoots at me nor strikes me as yet.</quote>
                        </note>
                     </p></div><div n="64" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> is regarded as severely correct, Cicero is criticised for passages such
                            as <hi rend="italic">familiaris coeperat esse balneatori</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pro Cael.</hi>
                                xxvi. 62. <quote>He had hegnn to be intimate with the
                                    bathkeeper.</quote>
                        </note> and for the not less unpleasing <hi rend="italic">archipiratae.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Verr.</hi><milestone n="5" unit="chapter"/><milestone n="1" unit="section"/> xxvii. 70.
                            </note> For although <hi rend="italic">balneatori</hi> and <hi rend="italic">archipiratae</hi> give exactly the same cadence as
                                <foreign xml:lang="grc">πᾶσι καὶ πάσαις</foreign> and <foreign xml:lang="grc">μηδὲ τοξεύῃ</foreign> the former are more severely
                            correct. </p></div><div n="65" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is also something in the fact that in the passages from Cicero two
                            feet are contained in one word, a practice which even in verse produces
                            an unduly effeminate effect, and that not merely when the line ends with
                            a five-syllable word as in <hi rend="italic">fortissima
                                Tyndaridarum</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Hor. Sat.</hi> I. i. 100. </note> but also in
                            four-syllable endings such <pb n="v7-9 p.545"/> as <hi rend="italic">Appnnino,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Pers.</hi> i. 95. </note>
                        <hi rend="italic">armamentis</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Ov. Met.</hi> xi. 456. </note>
                        <hi rend="italic">and Oreione.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> iii. 517. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="66" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Consequently we must also avoid ending our periods with words containing
                            too many syllables. With regard to the middle portions of our periods we
                            must take care not merely that they possess internal cohesion, but also
                            that the rhythm is neither sluggish nor long, and above all that we do
                            not fall into the now fashionable fault of placing a number of short
                            syllables together with the result that we produce an effect not unlike
                            the sound of a child's rattle. </p></div><div n="67" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For while the beginnings and conclusions of periods, where the sense
                            begins or ends, are the most important, it is none the less the fact
                            that the middle portion may involve some special efforts which
                            necessitate slight pauses. Remember that the feet of a runner, even
                            though they do not linger where they fall, still leave a footprint.
                            Consequently not only must <hi rend="italic">commata</hi> and <hi rend="italic">cola</hi> begin and end becomingly, but even in parts
                            which are absolutely continuous without a breathing space, there must be
                            such almost imperceptible pauses. </p></div><div n="68" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Who, for example, can doubt that there is but one thought in the
                            following passage and that it should be pronounced without a halt for
                            breath? <hi rend="italic">Animadverti, idlices, omnem accusatoris
                                oralionem in duas divisan esse parties</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">pro Cluent.</hi> i. 1.
                                    <quote>I note, gentlemen, that the speech for the prosecution
                                    falls sharply into two divisions.</quote>
                        </note> Still the
                            groups formed by the first two words, the next three, and then again by
                            the next two and three, have each their own special rhythms and cause a
                            slight check in our breathing: at least such is the opinion of
                            specialists in rhythm. </p></div><div n="69" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> And just in proportion as these small segments of the period are grave
                            or vigorous, slow or rapid, languid or the reverse, so will the periods
                            which they go to form be severe or luxuriant, compact or loose. </p></div><div n="70" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Again, the conclusions <pb n="v7-9 p.547"/> of clauses sometimes seem to
                            halt or hang, if they are regarded apart from their context, but are
                            usually caught up and supported by what follows, so that what seemed a
                            faulty cadence is corrected by the continuation. <hi rend="italic">Non
                                vult populus Romanus obsoletis criminibus accusari Verrem</hi> would
                            be harsh in rhythm, if the sentence ended there; but when it is
                            continued with what follows, <hi rend="italic">nova postulat, inaudita
                                desiderat,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Verr.</hi> v. xliv. 117. <quote> The Roman people
                                    does not wish Verres to be accused of obsolete crimes: no, it is
                                    new and Unheard of crimes that it demands and desires.
                                </quote>
                        </note> although the words are separate in meaning, the
                            rhythmical effect is preserved. </p></div><div n="71" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">Ut adeas, tantum dabis</hi> would be a bad conclusion,
                            for it forms the last portion of an iambic trimeter: but it is followed
                            by <hi rend="italic">ut cibum vestitumque introferre liceat,
                                tantum:</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Verr.</hi> V. xliv. 118. <quote> To see him, you
                                    will pay so much, and so much to bring in food and clothing. No
                                    one refused. </quote>
                        </note> the rhythm is still abrupt but is
                            strengthened and supported by the last phrase of all, <hi rend="italic">nemo recusabat.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="72" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The appearance of a complete verse in prose has a most uncouth effect,
                            but even a portion of a verse is ugly, especially if the last half of a
                            verse occurs in the cadence of a period or the first half at the
                            beginning. The reverse order may on the other hand often be positively
                            pleasing, since at times the first half of a verse will make an
                            excellent conclusion, provided that it does not cover more than a few
                            syllables. </p></div><div n="73" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> This is especially the case with the <hi rend="italic">senarnis</hi> or
                                <hi rend="italic">octonarius.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> senarius= iambic trimeter. octonarius here =
                                trochaic tetrameter, <hi rend="italic">not</hi> iambic tetrameter.
                                </note>
                        <hi rend="italic">In Aliica fuisse</hi> is the opening of a
                                <hi rend="italic">senarius</hi> and closes the first clause of the
                                <hi rend="italic">pro Ligario: esse videatur,</hi> with which we are
                            now only too familiar as a conclusion, is the beginning of an <hi rend="italic">ocionarius.</hi> Similar effects are to be found in
                            Demosthenes, as for example <foreign xml:lang="grc">πᾶσι καὶ
                                πάσαις</foreign> and <foreign xml:lang="grc">πᾶσιν ὑμῖν</foreign>
                            and throughout almost the whole exordium of that speech. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">De Cor.</hi>
                                I. </note> The ends of verses are also excellently suited to the
                            beginning of a period: </p></div><div n="74" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">etsi vereor,</hi><pb n="v7-9 p.549"/><hi rend="italic">iudices,</hi><note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">pro Mil.</hi> i. Both quotations give the end of
                                an iambic trimeter. </note> for example and <hi rend="italic">animadverti, iudices.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">pro cluent.</hi> i. 1. Both quotations give
                                the end of an iambic trimeter. </note> But the opening feet of a
                            verse are not suited to the opening phrases of prose: Livy provides an
                            example of this in his preface, which begins with the first half of a
                                <hi rend="italic">hexameter, 'Facturusne operae premium sim:'</hi>
                            for these are the words as he wrote them, and they are better so than as
                            they have been corrected. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">
                                MSS. of Livy read <hi rend="italic">sim operate pretium:</hi> there
                                is evidence to show that this may be due to corruption rather than
                                to correction such as Quintilian describes. </note> Again, </p></div><div n="75" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> the cadence of a verse is not suitable to the cadence of a period:
                            compare the phrase of Cicero, <hi rend="italic">Quo me vertam,
                                nescio,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">pro Lig.</hi> i. 1, <hi rend="italic">pro
                                    Cluent.</hi> i. 4. </note> which is the end of a <hi rend="italic">trimeter.</hi> It matters not whether we speak of a
                                <hi rend="italic">trimeter</hi> or of a <hi rend="italic">senarius,</hi> since the line has six feet and three beats. The end
                            of a <hi rend="italic">hexameter</hi> forms a yet worse conclusion;
                            compare the following passage from the letters of Brutus: <hi rend="italic"> neque illi malunt halbere tutores aut defensores,
                                quoniam causam sciunt placuiisse Catoni. </hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><quote> They ask for no guardians or defenders
                                    since they know that the cause has won the approval of Cato.
                                </quote></note>
                     </p></div><div n="76" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Iambic endings are less noticeable, because that metre is near akin to
                            prose. Consequently such lines often slip from us unawares: they are
                            specially common in Brutus as a result of his passion for severity of
                            style; they are not infrequent in Asinius, and are sometimes even found
                            in Cicero, as for example at the very beginning of his speech against
                            Lucius Piso: <hi rend="italic">Pro di immortales, qui hic nunc illuxit
                                dies?</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> An iambic
                                trimeter. <quote>Immortal gods, what day is this has
                                dawned?</quote>
                        </note>
                     </p></div><div n="77" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Equal care must however be taken to avoid any phrase of a definitely
                            metrical character, such as the following passage from Sallust: <hi rend="italic">Falso queritur de natura sua.</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Jug.</hi> I.
                                    <quote>The human race complains of its own nature without
                                    reason.</quote> Last five feet of iambic trimeter! </note> For
                            although the language of prose is bound by certain laws, it should
                            appear to be free. None the less Plato, despite the care which he
                            devotes to his rhythm, has not succeeded in avoiding this fault at <pb n="v7-9 p.551"/> the very opening of the Timaeus, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> The phrase is <foreign xml:lang="grc"> εἷς, δυό, τρεῖς, ὁ δὲ τέταρτος ἡμῶν, ὦ φίλε εἷς,
                                    δυό, τρεῖς </foreign> give the opening of a hexameter, <foreign xml:lang="grc">ὁ δὲ δὴ τέταρτος ἡμῶν</foreign> the Anacreontic,
                                    <foreign xml:lang="grc">δυό . . . φίλε</foreign> the Iambic
                                trimeter and <foreign xml:lang="grc">εἷς . . . δὴ</foreign> the
                                    <foreign xml:lang="grc">πενθημιμερές.</foreign>
                        </note>
                     </p></div><div n="78" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> where we are met at the very outset with the opening of a <hi rend="italic">hexameter,</hi> which is followed by a <hi rend="italic">colon</hi> which can be scanned as an Anacreontic, or
                            if you like, as a trimeter, while it is also possible to form what the
                            Greeks call a <foreign xml:lang="grc">πενθημιμερὲς</foreign> (that is a
                            portion of the hexameter composed of two feet and a part of a third):
                            and all these instances occur within the space of three lines. Again
                            Thucydides has allowed to slip from his pen a phrase of the most
                            effeminate rhythm in <foreign xml:lang="grc">ὑπὲρ ἥμισυ Κᾶρες
                                ἐφάνησαν</foreign>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> I, 8.
                                Quintilian probably treats this as Sotadean or reminiscent of
                                Sotadean rhythm. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="79" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But, having stated that all prose rhythm consists of feet, I must say
                            something on these as well. Different names are given to these feet, and
                            it is necessary to determine what we shall call each of them. For my
                            part I propose to follow Cicero <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Or.</hi> ch. lxiv. 7. </note>
                            (for he himself followed the most eminent Greek authorities), with this
                            exception, that in my opinion a foot is never more than three syllables
                            long, whereas Cicero includes the <hi rend="italic">paean</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> For <hi rend="italic">paean</hi> see § 96. The two varieties with which Quintilian is
                                concerned are– u u u and u u u –. </note> and the <hi rend="italic">dochmiac</hi> (u – – u –), of which the former has four and the
                            latter as many as five syllables. </p></div><div n="80" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> He does not, however, conceal the fact that some regard these as rhythms
                            rather than feet: and they are right in so doing, since whatever is
                            longer than three syllables involves more than one foot. Since then
                            there are four feet which consist of two syllables, and eight composed
                            of three, I shall call them by the following names: two long syllables
                            make a <hi rend="italic">spondee;</hi> the <hi rend="italic">pyrrhic</hi> or <hi rend="italic">pariambus,</hi> as some call it,
                            is composed of two shorts; the <hi rend="italic">iambus</hi> of a short
                            followed by a long; its opposite, that is a long followed by a short, is
                            a <hi rend="italic">choreus,</hi> for I prefer that term to the name of
                                <hi rend="italic">trochee</hi> which is given it by others. </p></div><div n="81" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Of <pb n="v7-9 p.553"/> trisyllabic feet the <hi rend="italic">dactyl</hi> consists of a long followed by two shorts, while its
                            opposite, which has the same time-length, is called an <hi rend="italic">anapaest.</hi> A short between two longs makes an <hi rend="italic">amphimacer,</hi> although it is more often called a <hi rend="italic">cretic,</hi> while a long between two shorts produces
                            its opposite, the <hi rend="italic">amphibruachys.</hi> Two long
                            syllables following a short make a <hi rend="italic">bacchius,</hi>
                     </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>