nce, which chiefly consists of the moral discourses
aforesaid, is infinitely inferior in interest to its manner. Of that
manner, any one who imagines it to be reproduced by Sir Piercie Shafton's
extravagances in _The Monastery_ has an entirely false idea. It is much
odder than Shaftonese, but also quite different from it. Lyly's two
secrets are in the first place an antithesis, more laboured, more
monotonous, and infinitely more pointless than Macaulay's--which antithesis
seems to have met with not a little favour, and was indeed an obvious
expedient for lightening up and giving character to the correct but
featureless prose of Ascham and other "Latiners." The second was a fancy,
which amounts to a mania, for similes, strung together in endless lists,
and derived as a rule from animals, vegetables, or minerals, especially
from the Fauna and Flora of fancy. It is impossible to open a page of
_Euphues_ without finding an example of this eccentric and tasteless trick,
and in it, as far as in any single thing, must be found the recipe for
euphuism, pure and simple. As used in modern language for conceited and
precious language in general, the term has only a very partial application
to its original, or to that original's author. Indeed Lyly's vocabulary,
except occasionally in his similes, is decidedly vernacular, and he very
commonly mingles extremely homely words with his highest flights. No better
specimen of him can be given than from the aforesaid letter commendatory to
the _Hecatompathia_.

"My good friend, I have read your new passions, and they have
renewed mine old pleasures, the which brought to me no less
delight than they have done to your self-commendations. And
certes had not one of mine eyes about serious affairs been
watchful, both by being too busy, had been wanton: such is the
nature of persuading pleasure, that it melteth the marrow before
it scorch the skin and burneth before it warmeth. Not unlike unto
the oil of jet, which rotteth the bone and never rankleth the
flesh, or the scarab flies which enter into the root and never
touch the fruit.

"And whereas you desire to have my opinion, you may imagine that
my stomach is rather cloyed than queasy, and therefore mine
appetite of less force than my affection, fearing rather a
surfeit of sweetness than desiring a satisfying. The repeating of
love wrought in me a semblance of liking;