Book 1

1.1. Here, then, is what I have to set before you concerning the figures and the virtues out of which political oratory is composed, by which it is judged, and through which it is advanced as something of great worth — composed, as it were, out of parts, member by member, so that from every side it stands complete and self-sufficient in itself. These figures are of the following kinds and the following number: dignity, gravity, amplitude, credibility, vehemence, emphasis, force, elaborateness, sweetness, clarity together with purity, brevity together with conciseness, and chastening of style.

1.1. Dignity, then, is in general constituted in three ways: by the thought, by the figure, and by the diction. By "thought" I mean the sense and the conceptions in which the subject matter is found; by "figures" I mean the mould of the discourse, in which the thoughts, as they are brought out, make the discourse appear of this or that character. And these figures have the greatest power in discourse — as much power as living, moving things have over things that are otherwise. By "diction" I mean the very wording by which the conceptions are delivered.

1.2. As to thought, then, your discourse will be dignified when it is drawn from elevated conceptions; and conceptions are elevated, in a word, when one makes use of distinguished matters, when something is said about distinguished subjects, and when one treats of what is rare and ancient. Distinguished, first of all, are matters concerning the gods, as when you trace your ideas back to things divine — the goodwill of the gods, the kindness of fortune; as, for example, in many cases one seems to me to see the goodwill that comes from the gods, and the like.

1.3. And among human matters too, when you bring in things that are held in honour — honouring parents, ancestors, the first founders of our customs, and exhorting others to the same — and in general the things honoured in life: these too share in dignity, such as liberty, temperance, justice, as when you call liberty, and what is achieved through it, the definition and standard of happiness. And in general one might mention countless such things, which are plain to all who have once entered upon this inquiry.

1.4. Such things, too, share in dignity, when you discourse upon life and death — for instance, "Death is the limit of life for all men" — or when you make distinctions and definitions of natures, for instance, "There is no race of friends and of enemies."

1.5. In these matters lies the greatest danger in political oratory: either to follow on and be drawn after the very nature of the conceptions, and, departing altogether from the matters at hand, to corrupt the soundness of the discourse and render it hollow, so that one becomes like the cloud-gathering sophists; or else, having considered the due measure in these things — how far the contending discourse may be raised, and with what elements, when mingled, it is not wanting — to keep dignity itself within the bounds of the contest, and not to err. So much, then, for the benefit of those who would learn.

1.6. Now let us return to the sources from which the less dangerous kind of dignity is constituted. These are illustrious deeds and reflections, and the rarest and most extraordinary of actions — for instance, that Xerxes conceived the idea of yoking the Hellespont and cutting through Athos and sailing across it; that the Athenians endured to abandon their city and embark upon their ships; that the Lacedaemonians shut their gates against the King. For these are great things, works and reflections of dignity, and they naturally raise the discourse, too, into dignity.

1.7. For the sake of an example, let there be a thought that of itself, by its very conception, partakes of dignity: "No, by our ancestors who faced the first danger at Marathon and who stood in the line at Plataea." For here the question at issue was whether the city did right or wrong to risk the battle at Chaeronea, whether it was a mistake to choose this war or not. This is the point at issue, and the demonstration was that it was not a mistake, since our ancestors who faced the first danger at Marathon did not err either. But to swear, as though by gods, by our ancestors — this carries the utmost height of dignity: "No, by our ancestors who faced the first danger at Marathon." And it is plain that the occasion for such conceptions is in distinguished and superlative contests, not when we are judging someone, or being judged, over a matter of damages or some other paltry affair. One might also say that the whole thing is a figure; for the very words "No, by our ancestors who faced the first danger at Marathon" are not an oath, but an illustration, as if to say: "You have not erred in undertaking the danger for the freedom and safety of all, any more than those who faced the first danger at Marathon erred." For to undertake the danger for the safety of all is like facing the first danger at Marathon. The fact, then, he has shaped into an illustration instead of stating it directly, transforming it — for the sake of both brilliance and credibility together — into the semblance of an oath.

1.8. The recounting of antiquity, too, belongs to dignity, as: "But considering that Orestes, who had slain his mother, escaped by obtaining merciful gods for his judges." In this way, then, dignity may arise as to thought.

2.1. As to figure, dignity arises thus: when one uses declarative figures, as in the speech Against Aristogeiton, where Demosthenes says: "The whole life of men, whether they dwell in a small city or a great, is governed by nature and by laws."

2.2. Or when one uses the figure of detachment. The nature of this figure of detachment is of the following kind: when, departing from the practice of linking things in sequence and binding them to one another, we bring them back to a fresh beginning of their own, so that what was joined among the conceptions is severed and stands apart — as in the Philippics, in the speech Against Philip, where the point to be established is: "Philip is acting outrageously; for he does this and that," for instance, "He has enslaved Thessaly; the cities in Euboea are already under tyrants; he has gone off against the Hellespont; before that he came against Ambracia; he holds Elis, so great a city in the Peloponnese." Then comes the heightening: "And while he does such things, none of the Greeks hinders him," among which he says also this: "And the Greeks, knowing these things, send no embassies about them, and feel no indignation." And at the end: "So that, while he is doing such things, what are we ourselves doing?" Then there is the heightening drawn from contrast: "And this, when our ancestors would yield none of these things even to the barbarians, nor indeed to the most distinguished of the Greeks — not to the Lacedaemonians, not to the Athenians, not, in the end, to the Thebans." Then, upon all this, comes the giving of the cause: "What, then, is the cause of these things?" Here now attend to the figure of detachment; for I have gone through all this first for the sake of clarity. If he had wished to bring out the established thought in linked form, he would have done it thus: "Whereas they all hated those who took money from men wishing to rule or to corrupt Greece, this man does not do so." But, breaking the linkage of the thoughts and detaching it from being joined to itself, he brings it back to a beginning and says: "There was something then — there was, men of Athens — in the minds of the many." What was this? "All hated those who took money from men wishing to rule or to corrupt Greece." Then something else came about by the figure, though it is one and the same conception, whether I state it in linked form — "What, then, is the cause of these things? That those men were not of this mind" — or whether, using detachment, I bring it back: "There was something then — there was — in the minds of the many." And elsewhere, using a forewarning, I shall say: "But I will speak with frankness; for indeed I could not do otherwise." Then, detaching, he adds: "All who have ever sailed forth from you as generals." And these too are figures of detachment: "It is a fine thing, men of Athens, a fine thing, the guarding of public affairs"; and that, set against it: "A foul thing, men of Athens, a foul thing is this beast, and unsociable." It is not because countless other observations are not present in each of these observations that I have not mentioned them by kind; for in some of them there has also been a doubling, and in general the matter has been brought out as a whole and not in part. But our purpose is to demonstrate one by one each of the generic figures, and so you yourself requested. And in general, upon a single conception many observations often coincide — especially such of them as are of the same kindred — and from these the discourse, when it is perfectly furnished in all its parts, draws something further: in thought, in figure, in rhythm, in diction. But our concern now is only with figure itself, and at that only with the figure of thought. There are also other forms of detachment, for instance: "Meidias will suffer nothing terrible or pitiable if he comes to have what most of you have"; and again: "Many rich men banded together, having gained, through their wealth, the appearance of being persons of some importance"; and again: "Meidias perhaps hates me."

2.3. Distensions, too, have dignity, as when he says: "What, then, does he attempt? To make war upon the Amphictyons, and to stir up confusion about the Pylaea." For without the distension it would run thus: "For Philip reasoned that, if he should persuade either the Thessalians or the Thebans to march against you for the sake of his own private enmity, no one would heed him; but that, if he took up their common grievances and were chosen leader, he would more easily hope to deceive in some things, and in others to win over whomever he might. What, then? He makes war upon the Amphictyons, and stirs up confusion about the Pylaea." That would be the form without the distension — confused and lowly; but to raise it to dignity is the work of the distension set in the middle: "What, then, does he attempt?" and then the matter coming after the distension: "to make war upon the Amphictyons." And elsewhere: "The worst feature in what is past is, in regard to the future, the best." Here, too, without the distension, the immediate sequel would be: "For though we do none of the things we ought." Where, then, is the distension? In the clause set between, in which, distending, he says: "What, then, is this? — that we do none of the things we ought." But these are divisions according to the matter — "What, then, does he attempt?" or again, "What, then, is this?" — while those others arise from a kind of self-judgement, as when he says: "For indeed it is so: I have been outraged, and my body was then defiled." And there always attends upon the distension this too, that it makes the discourse well-articulated, and in some places clear as well. One must know that the observations of discourse bring with them great beauty; but for now we are dealing with one, the most generic.

2.4. A figure of dignity arises also when one uses obliqueness. For where the thoughts are set upright, the discourse is chopped up one by one, and the figure belongs rather to the purer manner than to the more dignified; on this account, in the speech Against Leptines, so long as Demosthenes keeps the thoughts upright, the discourse seems pure, as: "The Thirty are said to have borrowed money from the Lacedaemonians against those in the Piraeus." Another thought of the same manner: "And when those affairs were settled, the Lacedaemonians sent envoys and demanded the money back." And what follows, had he carried it forward in the same manner, he would have said thus: "Discussions then arose, and some thought those from the city should repay the money, others those from the Piraeus." But the tone of the figure, and the dignity, would have been destroyed; and so, using obliqueness, he says: "And when discussions arose, some bidding those from the city to repay, others those in the Piraeus, this proved the first sign of concord." And at the opening of the speech Against Philip: "Though many discussions arise, men of Athens, about the wrongs Philip is committing." And another thing rendered oblique upon this: "And which all, I well know, would have said." And again: "And though our present circumstances, men of Athens, are, as I judge, fearful to all, none are in greater danger than you."

2.5. This must be known first concerning the figures: that there is a certain partnership in discourse between elevation and dignity. For where the discourse takes on elevation, there it takes on dignity as well. Let the discourse be directed to matters of thought; the use of similes, further, makes the discourse possess dignity and elevation, as: "Like a fitful wind upon the sea, moving as chance directs"; and again: "Like a thunderbolt or a torrent, this whole affair fell upon the city"; and elsewhere again: "Since, that, like the period or onset of a fever or some other illness, it comes even upon him who now thinks himself very far removed — of this no one is ignorant."

2.6. The uttering of maxims, too, belongs to dignity, as: "For prosperity beyond one's deserts becomes, for the foolish, a starting-point for thinking ill."

2.7. To cast out and do away with the less esteemed things and bring in instead the more esteemed belongs to dignity: "I walled the city neither with stones nor with bricks; but if you wish to learn my fortification, you will find it to be the things more highly esteemed — arms, and cities, and lands, and harbours."

2.8. The discourse has dignity also when you do not at once run upon what is being introduced, but take up beforehand the forces of the matters and suspend the discourse upon them: "One safeguard the nature of sensible men possesses in itself, common to all." And he did not at once go on and say "distrust," but having first taken up the forces of this thing and suspended his sentence upon them: "which is for all a good and a means of safety, but most of all for the multitude against tyrants." And another resumption: "What, then, is this?" — and then the thing introduced: "distrust." Like to this is the following also: "the very thing that both prevailed over the wealth of the Persians and kept Greece free, and was beaten neither in battle by sea nor by land — but now, being lost, it has ruined everything and turned all affairs upside down." And though so much is set forth beforehand, the "what" has not yet been stated; but using resumption, he will now bring it in: "What, then, was this?" — and then the thing introduced by itself, as there "distrust," so here: "All hated those who took money from men wishing to rule or to corrupt Greece."

2.9. Definitions, too, that are set in the universal have dignity, as: "For my part, I count as a city's wealth its allies, its trust, its goodwill."

2.10. And always to keep stepping back, leading what is distinguished — whether persons or matters — away from oneself, is very dignified, as: "And of these things none is new, nor any discovery of mine; but an ancient law, which this man has transgressed, prescribes lawmaking thus"; and again: "I am not speaking words of my own, but the records of your ancestors."

2.11. This too is a figure of dignity: to set the thoughts side by side without connectives, placing them one after another, as: "Meidias of Anagyrus has put himself forward; he knows the secrets; the city cannot contain him." And again: "He has gone off against the Hellespont; before that he came against Ambracia; he holds Elis, so great a city in the Peloponnese; lately he plotted against Megara; neither Greece nor the barbarian world can contain the man's grasping."

3.1. As to diction, dignity arises thus: when one uses substantive expressions instead of verbal ones, as: "A great advantage, men of Athens, accrued to Philip." And: "For reckless daring was accounted bravery, a friend's part."

3.2. And when you use figurative expressions instead of proper ones, as to call bribery a disease: "A disease, men of Athens, dread, has fallen upon Greece." And elsewhere again: "Then the man who sets up this engine against the city." And in the speech Against Meidias: "But you, having become the contributor to such a fund, justly deserve to collect this from yourself."

3.3. To speak in the plural, and to set the names one after another, belongs to dignity, as: "Prosperous and great and terrible to all, Greeks and barbarians."

3.4. To remove the persons and carry the discourse forward upon the very matters is exceedingly dignified: "If Thespiae and Plataea and the prospect that the Thebans should presently pay the penalty had not taken away the truth" — but it was those who spoke of the affairs of the Thespians and Plataeans; he, however, removing the persons of those who said these things, speaks of them in the abstract: "If Thespiae and Plataea . . ." And elsewhere again: "But I think you should not have to persuade yourselves to keep the peace" — and he stated the opposite: "but Philip" — yet, removing the person, he spoke of the matter indefinitely: "but the one who is carrying on the business of war." And again elsewhere, wishing to show that it is Philip who is making the war, instead of saying so outright: "But if Philip, holding arms in his hands and having much force about him" — whereas the other man said it directly.

3.5. To dignity belongs also the use of more generic names. By "generic" I mean "gold," "silver"; for from these is derived what is said of species and part — "money," "wealth," "revenue." Thucydides, raising these to the generic, produced dignity; Hermocrates says of the Carthaginians: "For they have gold and silver in greatest quantity," instead of "for they are very rich," or, transposed otherwise, "for they are rich." And Demosthenes, instead of saying, "Arthmius was punished because he corrupted certain men with money in the Peloponnese," by speaking generically — "because he brought gold from the King" — produced dignity.

3.6. One must know that dignity arises even from a single word, as in the speech Against Leptines, where he says that one must keep the inscribed pillars in force. How did he raise it to dignity? In the last word: "that those pillars may be a memorial of the character of the city."

1.1. Gravity arises, in general, as to thought and as to figure, but as to diction scarcely at all. As to thought, then, gravity arises thus: when one is led to accuse oneself, or one of one's own household or friends; for such a thing would be grave, since one might rather have praised; or, in general, one of those persons on whose behalf, or to whom, one is speaking — as Demosthenes: "I have meddled too far, and so has the city that was persuaded by me; let all the errors and wrongs be mine."

1.2. But where you are able, beyond all doubt, to prove that you are doing no wrong, there to use such boldness as to deprive yourself of the pardon or kindness that comes from the judges, as when you say: "Do not endure even a word from me, not even if I have administered all public affairs supremely well; but rise up and condemn me at once" — gravity arises here too. And concerning a friend likewise gravity arises, if you deprive him of either the pardon or the kindness of the judges. Gravity arises also when you call down something monstrous upon yourself, as: "Yet I would rather have died than have said these things."

1.3. And when one proposes something monstrous to the hearers, which they would not willingly accept, as in the speech Against Aristogeiton, where, having gone through what happens in the assemblies through the inexperience of such orators, he proposed the monstrous thing with gravity: "If, then, you wish this, and these men do this with our consent, we must go on our way and let it be."

1.4. And when you lead the discourse into an absurdity, you have produced gravity, as in the speech Against Callicles: "For surely Callicles will not compel me to drink it down." Or when you concede to the adversary things admitted to be absurd, as in the speech Against Aristogeiton: "If Aristogeiton is simply a scoundrel and a bitter sycophant, I grant it, I concede it — to you, Philocrates, such as you are, to save your like."

1.5. And when, having divided up everything, one leaves some single thing to the adversary as being no less for him than against him, gravity arises, for instance: "Except, by Zeus, there is — there is a brother of his, the one who has brought this fine suit against him." And again, having done away with the reasons why it should not be so, he adds: "Except that one might say this: that they were mad — for there is nothing else to say."

1.6. And when you bring the renowned dead into the judgement, such a thing seems grave, for instance: "Yet how greatly would our ancestors groan!" And again: "Yet what wrath, do you think, or what verdict would your ancestors have set against the authors of this ruin?"

1.7. To gravity belongs also leaving things that no one would say as though they were going to be said: "We shall say, by Zeus, to the Greeks, 'There is a law of Timocrates among us; wait, then, for the ninth prytany; and then we shall come out.'"

1.8. To concede past absurdities, too, is gravity, as: "Let this, then, be settled between us up to this point."

1.9. To gravity belongs also the deprecating of absurd things: "Yet may the affairs of the city not come to this, men of Athens." And: "It is ten thousand times better to die than to do anything out of flattery for Philip."

2.1. As to figure, gravity arises thus, when one uses the figure of thought, for instance: "A fine pair, are they not? — Solon the lawgiver and Timocrates." Or again: "A fine return the multitude of the Oreitae has reaped, in entrusting themselves to Philip's friends and hating Euphraeus! A fine one the people of Eretria, in driving out your envoys and surrendering themselves to Cleitarchus! Indeed, they are slaves now, and are flogged."

2.2. To gravity belongs also the use of plaintive figures, for instance: "Charidemus — alas!" And that saying of Aeschines: "You endured it utterly, like men of iron." And reticences will avail you to the same end, for instance: "What could one rightly call you, that would name you aright?"

2.3. Gravity arises also when you are led to say something painful against the hearers, which one would suppose they would bear ill, and then you set it right, as though having nothing more moderate to say of it — as in the letters: "But if you look to the conspicuous dignity of the Council or of the Areopagus, then, remembering the trial of Aristogeiton, hide your faces; for I have no gentler form of address for those who have sinned against me."

2.4. Gravity has also this quality: when, having granted something as belonging to you, you then take it away and cast doubt upon it — as in the Philippics: "But he, while you remained at home, idle, in good health" — having granted this as belonging to them, he at once took it away with a qualification: "if indeed we are to call those who do such things 'in good health.'"

2.5. And perplexities within lamentations have gravity, as in the letters: "Ah, what could I say that would seem neither to err nor to lie? — Far too negligent!"

1.1. Amplitude arises, in general, as to thought, as to figure, and as to diction. As to thought, thus: when one takes up indefinite matters along with the definite, for instance: "From many sources, then, one might discern his folly and his malice" — this is the indefinite taken on from without; now the definite: "but not least from what he said about fortune." And again: "Many disadvantages, then, I for my part suffer in this contest from Aeschines" — this is indefinite; now the definite taken up in a sum: "but two of them, men of Athens, and great ones"; then he divided these by species: "one, that I do not now contend for an equal stake; the other, that which all men have by nature — to hear gladly abuse and accusations, but to be vexed at those who praise themselves." For all these things belong to amplitude: the taking on of the indefinite — "Many disadvantages, then, I for my part suffer"; the gathering into a sum — "but two of them, men of Athens, and great ones"; the dividing by species — "one, that the contest is not for an equal stake; the other, that all men are so disposed as to hear gladly those who abuse, but to be vexed at those who praise themselves." And a third example: "In many cases, men of Athens, one might seem to me to see the goodwill of the gods becoming manifest to the city"; then the leading on to the definite: "but not least in the present circumstances." And again: "Many, then, of the things done by that man are worthy of praise; but the greatest of all is the raising of the walls."

1.2. Amplitude is also this: when you set forth the matters generically, and then go through them by species, as in the speech Against Leptines. What he wishes to introduce is this: "It is not, then, only that Leucon should not be wronged that we must consider, but Epicerdes also." But before stating the species — "but Epicerdes also" — he took up the generic beforehand: "but anyone else as well who, having done you good in his prosperity, has now come to a time when it is needful for him to receive immunity from you." Then he came to the species, having marked it off: "Who, then, is this? Epicerdes the Cyrenaean." And again, introducing the benefactions of Epicerdes, he took up the generic beforehand and then introduced the species: "but for the sake of so great a crisis, in which it was hard even to find one of the very men who had been benefited willing to remember by whom he had been served." Now he tells what this man did, by species: "For this man gave a hundred minae to those of the citizens who had met with misfortune in Sicily." And again, generically: "Such and so great buildings and adornment of temples and harbours and the like did they leave us, that to none who came after has any room for surpassing them been left." Then by species: "the Propylaea here, the Parthenon, the dockyards." And again, in the speech Against Leptines, wishing to scrutinize and discredit those who supported the law, he first mentioned them generically: "Advocates have been chosen to defend the law, and these the men most skilled in speaking"; then by species: "Leodamas of Acharnae and Cephisodotus of Cerameis"; then again generically, gathering it together: "But hear what you might justly suppose against these men"; then again by species: "first, against Leodamas." Whenever, then, you do not state the species bare, but take up beforehand the generic, you produce amplitude.

1.3. Further as to amplitude: when, in the midst of a thought or of the thoughts, before completing the sense, one throws in other thoughts — which, unless it is done in some measure, produces dreadful obscurity. An example of this kind of amplitude is in the speech Against Aristocrates: "With reason, then, men of Athens, you would both give heed to me and listen with goodwill to what I say"; then the things that establish why one must attend and listen, one thrown in upon another, and these rendered oblique: "for since I am not one of those who trouble you, nor of those who take part in your public life, I declare that I shall prove a deed of such magnitude to have been done, if you will help me with all the power that is in you and listen eagerly." And the good that is to result for them from listening is not one but two: the one from the present — "you will both save this"; the other from the future — "and you will make men not shrink, if anyone thinks that he too can do the city some good." This much, then, is filled out and nothing is wanting to it. But, that the amplitude may be greater, he set the opposite beside it and resumed. And what was the opposite of "make someone more eager to do the city some good"? "But as it is, many men who fear this — though perhaps not skilled in speaking, yet better men than the skilled — do not even bring themselves to consider any of the common affairs." And this too would have been complete; but here, again, it did not suffice him, but he added to what had been said a confirmation drawn from his own case: "I myself, at any rate, be well assured, would have shrunk even from bringing this very indictment," so that in this way the matter of "attending to the speaker" is interwoven. And: "Nor will this be absurd — that some shrink from doing the city good, as now they do shrink, through fear and inexperience of speaking; I myself, at any rate, very nearly shrank as well." How, then, do you bring the accusation? And the confirmation of this from his own case: "Because I think it a terrible thing that formerly, when I sailed as trierarch to the Hellespont, I both spoke and accused certain men whom I thought to be wronging you, but that now I should keep quiet and be silent when I see certain men contriving a thing of no advantage to the city." Does it seem to you that few thoughts have been thrown in, before the whole conception comes to its close?

1.4. But that it may become still clearer to you what kind of thing it is to throw in several thoughts in the middle, here is a very clear example in the speech On the False Embassy: "For, with a man who is mortal" — one thought, from the person — "and strong only through certain circumstances, to write that we should conclude an undying agreement of disgrace against the city" — the thing that is being done. And what comes upon it is not yet completed, but he throws in more. Again: "For how is it not shameful that publicly you should all blame what was done as a result of the peace, and be unwilling to share in the actions of the Amphictyons, and feel ill-disposed and suspicious toward Philip, as though what was done were impious and dreadful, and neither just nor to your advantage; but, when you have come into the court" — now attend to what is thrown in — "to judge the audits concerning these matters" — another thought — "having sworn an oath on behalf of the city, you should let off this man, whom you have caught in the very act of doing such things" — now the thing that completes it.

1.5. Amplitude is produced also when one examines not only what is consequent, but also takes up the opposite, as in the speech On the False Embassy. The simple, consequent form would have been thus: "For since you elected this man an envoy, to guard the rest." Here, having taken up the opposite, he thus brings in the consequent: "You elected him" — first the "for what he was not to do," then "for what he was to do" — "not as one of those who would sell out your interests, nor as one of those who had put their trust in Philip" — then now the consequent — "but as one who would guard the others." And again in the speech On the False Embassy: "And when the assembly came, Aeschines, coming forward before us all" — and he did not at once bring in the consequent, "made the following report," but first, by way of the opposite of the consequent, what he ought to have reported and did not. And what were these things? "First, from making any report at all about the negotiations, or about what had been said in the Council — if indeed he disputed my speaking truly — he wholly refrained." Then now, in the consequent, what he did: "and he harangued and spoke such words as these." But, that you may know that the observations of amplitude have kinship with one another: we said above that amplitude is to take up the generic beforehand and bring in the species; but now let us also say that amplitude is to examine not only the consequent things, but also the opposites of the consequent. Here he has done both: what he did not do and what he did, setting the opposite before the consequent; and the generic things he took up before the species — the generic things he stated in: "and he spoke such words, and possessing such great and such goods, that he carried off all of you, having taken you in." This is the generic; now the species: "for he said that he had come having persuaded Philip"; then again generically: "of all things that are to the advantage of the city"; then by species: "both concerning the affairs in the Amphictyony and concerning all the rest." And in the speech Against Meidias too: "that, if anyone is outraged by this man" — the consequent — "he thinks fit to obtain justice"; the opposite of the consequent — "and does not keep silence."

1.6. To amplitude belongs also not to bring in the thoughts — that is, the facts — bare, but to take up along with them the disposition behind such things, or the quality of that disposition. In this way he produced amplitude: "The Lacedaemonians seem to me to be doing the work of very clever men"; then the thing done by them: "for now they say the Eleans must recover certain parts of Triphylia." And in the Philippics: "You would, it seems to me, deliberate far better about the war and the whole preparation"; then he adds the reason these things were taken up beforehand: "if you would consider, men of Athens, the situation of the country against which you are making war."

1.7. You produce amplitude also when, before stating what is being introduced, you take up beforehand its confirmation, for instance in the speech Against Leptines. If he had spoken simply and without amplitude, he would have said thus: "and of those who bade those from the city repay, and of those who bade them jointly discharge it." But now see how he took up the confirmations beforehand in each case: of the one party he did not at once say "those from the city," but in the middle, "of those who bade the borrowers repay — those from the city"; and of the other party he did not at once set the antithesis, "to discharge it jointly," but again took up beforehand the confirmation: "of those who thought fit that this should be the first sign — to discharge the money jointly."

1.8. This too belongs to amplitude: when you do not state what is being introduced bare, for instance in the speech Against Leptines. The thing introduced is: "that the gifts the people has given be valid, being in accordance with the standing laws." But he took up beforehand the quality of the thing introduced: "this, which already exists among the standing laws"; then the quality taken on: "a fine thing, men of Athens, and a clear one"; and now the thing introduced: "that the gifts the people has given be valid." And again, upon this, the verdict: "Just it is, O Earth and gods!" And in general, wherever you do not introduce the facts bare, but take up something of them beforehand or add something to them, you will produce amplitude.

1.9. You produce amplitude also when, introducing something of your own — for instance, "Conon did you such great services" — you do not at once say what he did, but, taking up beforehand from what state and how things stood when he did it, as in the speech Against Leptines. The benefaction is "he won a sea-battle," but before saying this he took up and led on beforehand both the manner and the circumstances of what he did: "after the people's return from the Piraeus, when our city was weak and possessed not a single ship, being himself a general in the King's service and having received not the slightest resource from us"; now the thing he did: "he defeated the Lacedaemonians at sea."

2.1. As to figure, amplitude arises thus. The hypothetical figure most of all produces amplitude, and so does the use of resultant clauses. What these resultant clauses are in discourse, and how much they can do, you will know from examples, as in the speech Against Conon, right at the beginning: "Having been outraged, gentlemen of the jury, and ill-treated by this man Conon." The simple way would have been to say: "many and dreadful, and indeed various, things, than which none has been more dreadful." But by means of the resultant clause he produced amplitude: "such that for a very long time neither my relatives nor any of the physicians expected me to survive." There is a difference also in the special quality of the resultant clause; for to this attend closely: if he had said simply, "Having been outraged, gentlemen of the jury, and ill-treated by Conon many and dreadful things," the thought would have been complete and would have needed nothing, and one would have had to pass on; but to suspend it upon the resultant clause, in saying "and having suffered such things," had as its consequence the addition: "of what sort? — such that for a very long time neither my relatives nor any of the physicians expected me to survive." The resultant clause, then, has this power: to make many things out of a single word, and to produce amplitude. And again in the speech Against Conon, going on, he says: "And at first they reviled me, but at last they laid blows upon me as well." The simple way would have been to say, "and they made a great outcry and uproar about the tent"; but the thought would have been complete and like something flung down. As it is, the resultant clause produced the amplitude: "and they made so great an outcry and uproar about the tent" — for upon the suspension by the resultant clause there necessarily follows the addition of another thought — "such that the general too and the taxiarchs came." And there is another resultant clause in the speech: the simple way would have been to say, "they put me in a sorry state, leaping upon me and striking me"; but the amplitude from the resultant clause is: "they put me in such a state, leaping upon me and striking me, that they split my lip."

2.2. A figure of amplitude is also that of enumeration. An example of this is in the speech On the False Embassy, where he says: "Of what, then, must one demand an account from an envoy?" The simple way would have been to say, "of what he reported, of what he persuaded"; but the amplitude lies in the enumeration: "first, then, of what he reported; second, of what he persuaded; third, of what you commissioned him to do." And again elsewhere: "For what purpose, then, did I go through these things? First, that you might know and learn; second, for a purpose no less important than this."

2.3. Praeteritions, too, produce amplitude, as in the speech Against Meidias: "All the trouble, then, that he gave, opposing our being released from the campaign on behalf of the chorus-members, or putting himself forward to be elected overseer for the Dionysia, and all the other such things — I shall pass over." And again: "That he framed an indictment of desertion against me, and hired the man who did it — that foul and utterly shameless fellow, that dust-cloud, Euctemon — I shall pass over." One must know that some praeteritions are indefinite, others by species. Indefinite are such as these: "Everything I could not state to you, nor would you wish to hear, all that he received as gifts from both sides" — and the generic form especially produces this effect. Such praeteritions, then, in their indefiniteness produce amplitude; but the praeteritions by species are like this: "Olynthus, indeed, and Apollonia and thirty-two cities in Thrace I pass over." And some praeteritions occur at the beginning, like this one, "Olynthus, indeed, and Apollonia," while others at the end, as where he says: "and his campaigns against the Illyrians and Paeonians and wherever one might mention, I pass over." Of those at the end there is also this praeterition, which possesses amplitude: "Though I have many other things as well to set forth that have been done by these men, and they have been proved liars, I would gladly tell you; but since you suppose it to be beside the point, I shall pass it over." And you will increase amplitude if you do not state the praeteritions bare, but add their justifications as well, as in the speech Against Leptines: "In what way, then, with you well-disposed toward all the Peloponnesians, he drew them up in array at Thebes, and how he slew Gorgopas in Aegina, and all that he did in Cyprus, and after that in Egypt, and that, having traversed almost the whole country, nowhere did he disgrace the name of the city or himself" — and the justification for which he passes over it: "because it is impossible to speak in accordance with his deserts, and there is much shame, when I speak of these things, that they should appear less than the opinion of him existing in each man's mind."

2.4. Most of all do partitions produce amplitude, when you do not bring in the thoughts singly, but, dividing them, set them in opposition, as in the Philippics: "But if the one shall have resolved that he must always be doing something greater than what he has, while you shall have resolved that you must take hold of nothing." This thought, then, may be divided into persons; but another may be divided into person and place: "When, then, you cannot sail up from here, and there is no help ready there." Isocrates very much delights in producing amplitude by this kind of partition; and, for the sake of an example, here are one or two from the On the Peace of Isocrates: "For we have come to this point" — and the partition — "of negligence toward our own affairs and of desire for what belongs to others"; then, stating the absurd results that befell them from these, he partitions: "They filled the public tombs with citizens, and the phratries and the registers with foreigners." Then again, recounting what befell the Lacedaemonians as a result of their empire by sea, he says: "The sea filled them" — the private men with "injustice, lawlessness, indolence, love of money" — and the common body of the city he did not simply set against "this and that," but again subdivided: "and the common body of the city with arrogance toward some, and desire for what belonged to others." But subdivisions too can produce amplitude, for instance: "You have not only done this, but that also" — "not only of cities and lands, of which we were once masters, do you appear to be letting go, but also of the allies and opportunities furnished by fortune." And in the speech Against Leptines: "It is not, then, only that Leucon should not be wronged that we must consider, but anyone else as well" — this being the case introduced concerning Epicerdes. And again: "It is not, then, only those who privately resolved to do you good, men of Athens, and showed themselves useful, that it is right to take care not to wrong, but many also who furnished whole cities, their own fatherlands, as allies to us in the war against the Lacedaemonians." And again: "It is not, then, only Conon who was honoured by us at that time for doing what I have recounted, but by many others as well."

2.5. Amplitude belongs also to introducing the thoughts by way of juxtaposition, when one does not simply say "this happened and that," but, instead of "this happening," "this happened," and instead of "that," "that" — as Demosthenes in the speech On the False Embassy: "For instead of seeing Thespiae and Plataea resettled, you heard of Orchomenus and Coronea being enslaved." And Isocrates too delights in producing amplitude by the figure of juxtaposition: "For instead of garrisoning the citadels of others, they saw the enemy masters of their own; instead of taking the children of others as hostages, they say they saw their own being reared in unworthy fashion; instead of tilling the lands of others, for many years they could not even see their own."

2.6. Amplitude is produced also by completions, as in the speech Against Conon: "That, then, it was no moderate or trifling blows I received" — and the opposite of "no trifling blows I received" — "but, by coming back because of these men's outrage and wantonness" — he goes on, "having suffered what, I have done what?" — "I have brought a far lighter suit than was fitting"; now the gathering clause, to a heightening, admitted: "from many sources I think it has become plain to you." But since I have already, for you who are following along, demonstrated the several observations of amplitude in the cases where the completion occurred — for to set down the completion itself would be of this kind: "That, then, it was no moderate or trifling blows I received, but, coming back because of these men's outrage and wantonness, I have brought a far lighter suit than was fitting, I think has become plain to you." There are also other completions that produce a marvellous amplitude, at once completing and rounding off what has been said before and providing a transition to what is introduced next, as in the speech On the Crown: "The things, then, that I furnished toward the justice of writing such things about me — besides many others, these and the like are they"; thus far the completion; then the announcement of what follows: "but the things that you all know, these I shall now state."

2.7. And to render the thoughts oblique belongs most of all to amplitude; so that even in narratives, if the thoughts be made oblique, it produces marvellous amplitude, as Demosthenes in the speech Against Aeschines: and having Ischander, the second actor of Neoptolemus, he did not set it upright by saying "he approached the Council," but again made it oblique: "and approaching the Council, and approaching the people about these matters." And another rendered oblique: "and having persuaded you to send envoys everywhere about these matters." And another of the same manner: "and reporting." And another upon these: "and going through how grievously they wrong all Greece, not only their own fatherlands, those who take bribes and money from Philip." But how did Aeschines do it? "For when Amyntas had lately died" — and another obliqueness — "and Alexander, the elder of the brothers, while Perdiccas and Philip were still children" — and another obliqueness: "and Pausanias was coming down to claim their throne, being an exile, but strong through the occasion" — and again another obliqueness upon another: "and many were cooperating with him, and he had a Greek force, and had taken Anthemus and Therma, while the Macedonians were not of one mind, but most of them inclined to the cause of Pausanias — at this juncture" — "he set us upright and gave us rest, the Athenians chose Iphicrates as general."

3.1. As to diction, amplitude arises thus: when one uses equivalent expressions. One must know that of equivalents some are set side by side as consequents, others as opposites of the consequent. As consequents, where he says: "You are vigorous and trust yourself"; and again, "his wantonness and his outrage"; and again, "his wealth and his abundance," or "his comrades and friends." As opposites of the consequent, equivalents again are these: "seeing these things neglected and meeting with no help." An equivalent too is that: "all of you and the whole people."

3.2. And one must know that this observation, too, is second to none: that dignity and amplitude have everything in common; for in all the ways in which they are constituted, they share with one another, and one must think of them in this way.

1.1. Credibility arises in two ways: as to thought and as to figure. As to thought, thus: when one first establishes one's own just claims as being true and easy to demonstrate, as in the speech Against Aristocrates: "I have supposed, men of Athens, that the speech is a very small and easy matter, concerning the proof that the decree has been moved contrary to this law."

1.2. Credible also is to make the things in dispute appear more conspicuous than the things demonstrated and admitted, as in the speech Against Aristocrates, where, having demonstrated the illegality, with the matter of the inexpedience still remaining to be examined, he credibly took it up and made out the inexpedience to be even plainer than the illegality — the thing in dispute plainer than the thing demonstrated — where he says: "For the decree is so very contrary to the laws that it is more inexpedient than illegal."

1.3. To credibility belongs also the use of oaths and imprecations, for instance: "I call to witness before you all the gods and goddesses who hold the land of Attica, and Apollo the Pythian, who is the ancestral god of the city, and I pray to all these: if I should speak the truth to you — and indeed I both spoke it then and at once before the people — grant me good fortune and safety; but if it be out of enmity, or for the sake of private rivalry, make me have no profit of any good." And again: "First, men of Athens, I pray to all the gods and goddesses that as much goodwill as I continue to bear toward the city and toward you all, so much may be granted me by you in this present contest." And in the speech Against Conon: "And if I swear truly, may many good things befall me, and may I never again suffer any such thing; but if I swear falsely, may I perish utterly, I and whatever is mine or shall be mine."

1.4. To credibility belongs also when one takes up the judgements of those who hear, upon the matters of which one speaks, as though the matters were admitted even among them — when he says, in the speech Against Aristogeiton: "But this matter has long since been judged, of old, in the nature of each man, from the very hearth." And again: "You who sit in judgement come knowing, more than we accusers, both that this man owes a debt to the treasury, and that he is registered on the Acropolis, and that it is not lawful for him to speak; so that each of you holds the rank of an accuser, and knows the rights, and has no need to be taught." And: "And if you know me to be such — for I have lived my life nowhere else."

1.5. To credibility belongs also to make strong asseverations about the facts, when you say: "Be well assured, men of Athens, that you have been deceived; and for what reasons you have, with good cause, suffered this, hear me." And in the speech On the False Embassy he made a strong asseveration at once: "As for convicting this man of having done many dreadful things, and of deserving the utmost penalty, I am confident and trust greatly." And in the speech Against Stephanus: "I shall prove to you that this Stephanus has both borne false witness and done so out of base greed, and is becoming his own accuser: so great is the conspicuousness of the matter."

1.6. Credible also is this: when one greatly slanders, as dreadful and grievous, the very things from which one wishes to seem most far removed, for instance: "For having accused me of things that anyone in his right mind would shrink even from saying — that I killed my own father." And in the speech Against Meidias: "For to the wretched and miserable man, when a dread and grievous charge had befallen him." And again: "He made neither gods nor sanctity a hindrance to such a speech, nor did he shrink, nor was he ashamed before the very men to whom he spoke."

1.7. Credible also is to anticipate the assessment and to fix penalties against oneself for the things one is treating of, for instance: "I, sailing as a volunteer, am ready to suffer anything." And again elsewhere, in the Philippics: "Neither now nor hereafter give heed to me as one in his right mind."

1.8. To credibility belongs also assigning more against oneself than the truth, for instance: "Of the foreigners there are exempt persons; I will set them at ten — though, by the gods, as I said just now, I do not think there are five. But of the citizens, again, there are not five or six. Of both, then, sixteen. Let us make them twenty; or, if you wish, thirty."

1.9. To credibility belongs also showing that, though the matters one undertakes are difficult, one speaks them because it is to the city's advantage that they be spoken, even if one runs some risk oneself, having chosen — should it be needful even to suffer something — to do so for the common good. An example of this is in the deliberative speeches: "I see, indeed, how difficult it is to speak what is best; for since you have been deceived, and some have chosen this course, others that, if anyone undertakes to speak the contrary, and you will not wait to learn, he will gratify neither party and will be misrepresented to both. Nevertheless, I shall choose rather, if indeed I am to suffer this, to seem to be talking nonsense, than, contrary to what I think best, to leave you to be deceived by certain men."

1.10. Credible also is to state beforehand the very thing that another, opposing you, might say, for instance in the speech On the Symmories. The point at issue is that one must oppose those who advise war against the King; but since the objection came from that quarter — "Are we, then, not to make war upon the common enemy and barbarian?" — for this reason he credibly took up beforehand what one might say from that side against the King, and says it himself: "I consider the King the common enemy of all the Greeks"; then what he now himself proposes: "yet I would not, on this account, advise the others to take up war against him."

1.11. To credibility belongs also confirming from hearsay whatever you cannot establish from elsewhere: "I heard from certain people that they would no longer grant him even the harbours and markets to enjoy." And again: "As I heard from one of those who had been in the country itself, a man by no means capable of lying." But it is more credible to be able to refer it to the very hearers, for instance: "Having heard it from you, I am able to instruct you." And again: "the things I have myself heard from you, the older men."

1.12. To credibility belongs also adding a further falsehood, for instance in the speech On the Crown, where he says that Aeschines became an Athenian late — "For late, late, I say" — then credibly he added a further falsehood: "yesterday, then, or the day before, both an Athenian and an orator." And again in the speech Against Aeschines, the truth is "he has done away with one of those who came to the audits," but the sequel he added falsely, for instance: "and the rest he threatens, going about."

1.13. To credibility belongs also to say something as though recalling it, for instance: "I nearly passed over the very thing I most needed to say to you." And of the same manner is to say something as though searching for it: "Take now the decree too that was passed for Chabrias. Look and see; for it must be here somewhere." For to introduce something not as prepared, but as though searching for it on the spur of the moment, is like improvisation and makes the discourse credible.

1.14. Above all things, to credibility belong both marking the things introduced and using hyperboles. Marking, when you say: "The thing I think you must most of all guard against, men of Athens, this I still wish to say." This is when what is being introduced is governed by what has been said before. And the hyperbole in the sequel, for instance: "For if anyone shall concede that everything Leptines will say about the law, instructing you that it is well laid down, is true, yet one shameful thing — which could not be done away with whatever happened — will result for the city through the law becoming valid."

1.15. Credible also is to concede and assent to some of the antitheses which the adversaries seem to advance against us, as in the speech Against Meidias the antithesis from their side: "Perhaps now he will say such things as that everything I say is premeditated"; then his own concession, with hyperbole: "I do indeed admit that I have considered the matter and rehearsed it as much as ever I could."

2.1. As to figure, credibility arises thus: when one uses figures proper to admitted things instead of disputed ones, as there: "Do you see and reckon up the coming season of the year, into which certain men think you must leave the Hellespont desolate?" And again, for the sake of credibility, he introduces by means of the figure something as admitted: "For you surely know this, that of those who wrong you a single assessment is fixed for each." And again: "You know perhaps, even without a word from me, that Chabrias was a worthy man."

2.2. Credible as to figure is also when one uses an undertaking in the discourse; for it is very credible to give a pledge concerning the matters in dispute, as in the speech Against Leptines: the point at issue is whether they will enact the proposed law; and he gives a pledge, saying: "We undertake — I, Phormio, and any other he wishes — to propose the law." And again: "We undertake, we promise; let the lawgivers draw these things up; on these terms let the matter proceed."

2.3. To credibility belongs also when one uses concurrences, as in the Philippics, for instance: "But if it seems to anyone that these things involve much expense and trouble" — now the concurrence, and very rightly so. For he first concedes what seems to be against himself, in order to introduce what is in his favour.

2.4. Very credible too is this, when one uses praeteritions. The figure is, indeed, also one of amplitude; nevertheless, fitting many uses to different needs, it often has a certain special force in credibility. For when, seeming to pass something over, you do not pass it over, there is credibility, as in the speech Against Leptines: "As for the other things, all the ways in which this man showed himself useful, both he and his ancestors" — then he used praeterition — "I shall pass over." And again: "A shameful law, men of Athens, and a bad one, like something born of envy and contentiousness" — then, having nothing more to say, credibly he used praeterition: "and the rest I let go."

2.5. And to speak against oneself in the same way one speaks against the adversaries instils credibility into the discourse.

1.1. Vehemence arises in three ways: as to thought, as to figure, as to diction. And as to thought, thus: when one rebukes distinguished persons, for instance: "You have departed, men of Athens, from the post in which your ancestors left you." And another like this: "For you alone of the Greeks keep quiet." And again: "And of these things you yourselves are the cause, having allowed them, in the first place, after the Persian wars to strengthen their city." You produce vehemence also when you do not shrink from disparaging distinguished matters or persons, for instance: to praise one's ancestors is a most distinguished thing, but how did Demosthenes at once at the outset disparage it? "Those who praise your ancestors seem to me to speak a gratifying speech, but not one that does service to those very men whom they extol." And in general, to rebuke has vehemence, as in those words: "Both seem to me to err — both those who have spoken for the Arcadians and those who have spoken for the Lacedaemonians."

1.2. And to disparage distinguished persons as being in an absurd condition produces vehemence, for instance: "But you, the people, unstrung, with your money and your allies serving in the rank of an attendant and an appendage."

1.3. And when one likens absurdly, it makes the discourse vehement, for instance: "Like a scorpion with sting upraised, darting this way and that, looking to whom he may fasten some harm and bring to ruin." And again: "For just as a knife is of no use to a cook unless it cuts, so to one who wishes that by his means harm and trouble should come upon all, the sycophant who would peddle these things is of no use." And elsewhere again: "But we are like men who have drunk mandrake or some such drug."

1.4. There is vehemence also when one expresses extreme indignation, for instance: "For this admits of no excess of foulness." And again elsewhere: "For this indeed is the utmost." And again: "It lacks nothing of the extreme of outrage."

1.5. And in general, wherever accusations are made over admittedly clear wrongdoings, because the wrongs are plain to all, the discourse attains vehemence, as in the speech Against Meidias and in the speech Against Aristogeiton. But the greatest thing one must know is this: that when the points at issue are not strong on either side, but on one side they are not plain, and yet the speaker draws the discourse together as though upon matters that are practically admitted — such is the speech Against Meidias.

2.1. As to figure, vehemence arises thus, when one uses aggressive figures, for instance: "A shameful law, men of Athens, and a bad one, and like something born of envy and contentiousness." And again: "Bar him, then, bar him from speaking on behalf of the peace." And in the speech Against Meidias: "And though I suffer these things, and am being driven, in the manner I am now describing to you." And in the speech On the False Embassy: "Than these things, men of Athens, nothing more dreadful has happened."

2.2. Vehemence is found also in the figure of apostrophe: "You, foulest of all men, when your freedom of speech is barred — not by railings or doors, which someone might open a little, but by such great and so many debts, and these lodged in the keeping of the goddess — you force your way within these and approach those things from which the laws drive you off, fenced out from all the rights in the city." And again in the speech Against Meidias: "What do you say, you foul fellow? — will you think fit to ask pity for your own children, or that these men pity you, the men whom you have publicly dragged through the mud?"

3.1. As to delivery — that is, as to diction — vehemence arises when you employ hyperboles in the discourse, for instance: "rich, bold, high-minded, loud-voiced, violent, shameless." And it has hyperbole also when you say: "The city cannot contain him." "Neither Greece nor the barbarian world can contain the man's grasping." And where he says: "To do obeisance to those who commit outrage, as among the barbarians, and not to defend ourselves, will be best."

3.2. All these things produce vehemence in the discourse by heightening it, as in the speech Against Conon: "I was dragged and stripped, and, coming out unsound, I was carried home on a litter"; and where he speaks about his mother — for he did not say "she had come out," but, more emphatically by the word, "his mother had leaped forth"; for in the word lies the emphasis.

3.3. And as we have often said that tropes in many places have great power, this holds in vehemence too, when, for the sake of vehemence, he says against the baseness of Aristogeiton: "a huckster and trafficker, who all but kept his scales and weights and sold everything."

1.1. In a certain way the three virtues of discourse — vehemence, emphasis, and harshness — though they differ in name, yet in power have very much in common with one another in most cases: for vehemence is an emphatic kind of discourse, and harshness can produce vehemence. Nevertheless, as to thought, you will produce emphasis when you state matters continuously and one upon another, as in the speech Against Leptines: "He defeated the Lacedaemonians in a sea-battle, and took forty-nine triremes captive, and captured most of the islands, and brought here three thousand persons captive, and declared a hundred and ten talents from the enemy"; and again: "Seventeen cities he took, seventy triremes he captured, a hundred and ten talents he declared, so many trophies he set up." Each of these is a fact in itself; but the bringing of one continuously upon another has produced the emphasis.

1.2. Emphasis is produced also by marking the qualities, where he says: "a dreadful sight"; and again: "a disease dreadful and grievous, needing much watchfulness and correction at your hands." And in the speech Against Meidias: "But what — both dreadful, men of Athens, and monstrous to me at least — seems to have been done by this man as an impiety, not merely a wrong."

2.1. As to figure, emphasis arises when one uses demonstratives, for instance: "This law, men of Athens, is both ancient and good." And again, in deliberative speeches: "Look at this city, great in size as it is." "Do you see Aristolochus the son of Charidemus? Once he had an estate; then now there are many to whom he was in debt; it was while he owed them that he acquired it."

2.2. Questions, too, will produce emphasis for you, as in the speech Against Boeotus, On the Name: "But if someone should ask you, 'Boeotus, how is it that you now belong to the tribe Acamantis, and the deme Thoricus, and are the son of Mantitheus?' — you could say nothing else but that 'Mantitheus while still living adopted me too.'" And in the speech On the Crown: "But if you disbelieve, ask them — or rather I shall do this for you" — then the question: "Does Aeschines seem to you, men of Athens, to be a hireling of Alexander, or his guest-friend?"

2.3. And when one uses continuous denials, emphasis arises in the discourse.

3.1. As to delivery, emphasis arises in the same manner as harshness and vehemence do.

1.1. Force arises only in one way, as to thought; and if anyone supposes it to arise in any other respect, he greatly errs. Force is when one arranges beforehand, from afar, something useful to oneself, as in the speech Against Aristocrates Demosthenes, wishing to show that it is perilous and against the city for one of the Thracian kings to become master, takes it up from afar and establishes that the weakness of Cersobleptes, whose general Charidemus is, is itself a safeguard of the Chersonese; so that, conversely, there is danger to the Chersonese if most of the kings are overthrown and the whole power comes round to the one, Cersobleptes, through Charidemus. From afar, then, he arranged beforehand that to decree that the slayer of Charidemus be liable to seizure makes Cersobleptes formidable, and he, once grown great, will overthrow the other kings, through whom the Chersonese is preserved: "And that it may become quite plain to you from the very things said: it is necessary, first of all, to state and show what it is that has made you hold the Chersonese securely; for through learning this you will clearly see the wrong as well. It is this, then, men of Athens: that on the death of Cotys, Berisades and Amadocus and Cersobleptes became three kings of Thrace instead of one; for it has come about that these are rivals to one another, while they court and conciliate you. Certain men, then, wishing to put a stop to this, and to overthrow the other kings and hand over the whole rule to Cersobleptes, contrive that this preliminary decree be passed in their favour."

1.2. Force is also to do away beforehand, before stating a point, with something from afar that opposes it. "How, then, was it that, having perceived from your speaking together with Philocrates that I had taken bribes, you who had been elected to our embassy stayed to serve as envoy with us, and did not swear off?" Against this, having set the objection without a formal statement of it, he then brought in the solution: "For I had agreed with the captives to bring them ransom, and on this account I went on the second embassy, to ransom them and save them so far as I could; it was a dreadful thing, then, to lie and abandon men who were citizens in their misfortune." It would have seemed to be a formal statement, and a fabrication shifted to fit what had happened; but as it is, before setting down the statement, he took up beforehand the matter of the captives by the comparison of the dates: "In the time we spent in Macedonia, what did each of us choose to do? I, for my part, to rescue the captives and search them out and spend money of my own; but this man — you will presently hear what he persisted in doing." Having in this way arranged beforehand the matter of the captives, he now brings forward the statement itself upon the solution already prearranged: "And when this man presently says to you, 'Why, then, Demosthenes, as you allege, having known from my speaking with Philocrates that we were doing nothing sound, did you serve again on the later embassy, the one about the oaths, and not swear off?' — remember this, that I had agreed with those whom I myself ransomed that I would come and bring ransom and save them so far as I could; it was a dreadful thing, then, to lie and abandon men who were citizens in their misfortune."

1.1. Elaborateness arises, in general, in three ways: as to thought, as to figure, as to delivery. As to thought, when one does not separate the thoughts from one another nor set them apart, but joins them to one another; and when one uses mixed and manifold conceptions, as it were drawing them in from without and seizing upon them from what remains; and when one does not set forth the matters bare, but with the things that attend upon them and with the nature of the matters — for instance, telling the manner, or the time, or the cause, or the place; and when one uses tropes, elaborateness arises.

1.2. As to figure, elaborateness arises thus: by the use of partitions.

1.3. As to delivery, elaborateness arises when the delivery is dense and continuous, and when it is verbal rather than substantive.

1.1. Sweetness arises, in general, in three ways: as to thought, as to figure, as to delivery. As to thought, thus: when one uses conceptions drawn from without, for instance from histories and proverbs and fables.

1.2. As to figure, sweetness arises when one uses novel modes of delivery.

1.3. As to delivery, when one uses tropes — and tropes not harsh, but subdued — and when one uses a diction that is animated.

1.1. Clarity and purity arise as to thought, as to figure, and as to delivery. As to thought, thus: when one does not invert the order of the matters, but goes through them in the order in which they were done; and when one does not throw in from without any thoughts upon them, but goes through the very things that were done; and when one goes through the known as known and the disputed as disputed.

1.2. As to figure, clarity and purity arise thus: when one uses turns, and when, passing from one matter to another, one uses for the one a completion and for the other an announcement.

1.3. As to delivery, thus: when one uses more common words, and those that are highly significative and most vividly make plain the matters; and when one uses narrative figures; and when one uses equivalents as little as possible — by "equivalents" he means, of course, the figurative and metaphorical that are equivalent to the proper terms — and when one uses gentler words instead of harsh ones.

1.1. Brevity and conciseness arise as to thought and as to diction. As to thought, thus: when one at once binds oneself to the necessary points of the matters, and when one does not treat everything as primary, but treats some things as primary and others not so.

1.2. As to diction, brevity and conciseness arise when one uses not the periphrastic forms of words but the direct ones; when one does not labour over the diction by setting equivalents side by side, but, having made the matter plain by the significative word, at once gets free of it and in few words; and when one is not ambitious over the diction, but looks rather to the matters.

1.1. The discourse is chastened, in general, in three ways: as to thought, as to figure, as to diction. As to thought, thus: when one does not give way to conceptions drawn from without; and when, compelled to use some conception, one does not introduce it simply, but marks that one was compelled, and tends to it; and when one does not simply set down thoughts severed from the subject matter, but as close to it as possible.

1.2. As to figure, chastening arises thus: when one cuts short the resultant clauses of the discourse; when one uses apologies; when one uses corrections.

1.3. As to delivery, thus: when one uses the proper word for the matters instead of the trope; and when one uses hyperboles less; and when, if ever one is compelled to use some figurative hyperbole, one apologizes for it. And in what manner this is done is easy to show.

2.1. There are also other figures concerning discourse, and likewise concerning poetry, both far from and near to one another, which it is not easy to grasp all at once; but each man, taking off a portion, has won repute in respect of that — though I except Homer the poet from the discussion. When, then, one makes it a feat to go through all these fine things and to mingle all the minglings in discourse, one must first render the characters suited to the occasions; then the conjunctions — where there is precision, there adding charm; where brevity, there speed; to the abundant, clarity; grace where dignity is; where there is invention, there management; where there are bold strokes, there safety. And here every hearer is dizzied and does not know what is to become of him; but, as in a battle-line men surrounded are thrown into confusion, so each, according to the nature he has, praises one thing or another: the one the precision of the diction, another the subtlety of the sense, another that it is graceful, another something else.

2.2. And since the parts of virtue too are found in the form of rhetoric, the orator would also be such a man. For it belongs, I think, to the prudent and temperate man to know the worth of each of the matters; to the just man, to render what is fitting both to himself and to others; to the brave man, not to be afraid to speak the truth; and the same man feels indignation at all that is opposite to these. With reason some are held to this, lest it should seem that the words are alien to the speaker, drawing after them a reputation greater than the truth. It belongs, then, to the orator to do these things too: to discern what is best, and to express it, and to manage each thing; to keep the harmonies and the order and the choice always fitting to the occasion; to chasten, to exhort, to restrain, to bring in whatever is needful; and altogether to render his discourses partakers of beauty and of sense and of strength and of temperance, by the density of the enthymemes, the symmetry of the words, the harmonies, the depth of thought, the figures, and the graces of the headings, of the intention, and of the themes.

2.3. For some discourses are panegyric, some deliberative, some forensic. Of the forensic, some turn on essence, some on particular character, some on quality; and again, of the forensic discourses some, I think, are very short, some very long, some between these. The deliberative are by nature shorter than the forensic — although there are deliberative discourses, as it were, longer than the forensic, and forensic discourses than those of the same kind, and others near them in extent; but neither are these set down apart from those, nor do those differ at all from these. For by the chance of the circumstances they advance both to a lesser and to a greater length, each beyond itself and beyond the other, while by their whole nature the one is somewhat more than the other. And this is a sign that the deliberative is not much shorter than the longest contentious speech, so that the contests aim to be distinguished from one another not only in their figures but also in their proportion, broadly speaking; the man deliberating, then, will say all that is needful, but will say it in fewer words than the one contending a suit; while the one contending will say everything, just as the one deliberating.

2.4. There being, then, three kinds of discourse, and the chance of the circumstances concerning them being what it is, I say that other kinds fall into the same discourse, which one must take up and blend — as the speech of Demosthenes, the one that gives the guard to Charidemus, partakes somewhere of the three kinds. For the part about the illegality is, of itself, outright forensic, refuting Aristocrates because he has moved something contrary to the laws; the part again about the expedient has a certain deliberative cast, that one must not allow Cersobleptes to grow greater; and a third upon these belongs to the panegyric manner — the censure of Charidemus. All these come round into the one, the forensic, and there has been a certain blending and mingling of them of this kind; and neither is the one such as the other, but each differs only so far as the matter wills, and the kinds are not at all torn apart from one another, so that the whole discourse is not at variance with itself.

2.5. One must know that the themes of deliberative questions are these: the just, the expedient, the possible, the easy, the necessary, the safe, the honourable, the pious, the holy, the pleasant, and their opposites. The just is constituted by law, by nature, by custom; and the just by law is considered in command and in prohibition. The expedient is constituted from four sources, which are these: the keeping of the goods we have, the gaining of goods we do not have, the escape from present evils, the prevention of impending evils. The possible is constituted from persons and from what is applied to them. The easy is constituted from these: that it requires fewer toils or less expense or fewer dangers or something of the sort, as against the contrary. The necessary is constituted from a man's not being able, evidently, to do what he wishes otherwise than as necessity compels; from escaping fears and disturbances and griefs and the violence in necessities otherwise than in this way, or as necessity compels; from the thing being defined as wholly necessary, such as dying. The safe is constituted from these: that there is no fear of suffering anything, neither from gods nor from enemies nor from any stronger persons nor from the law. The honourable is constituted, to embrace it in a definition, from the praises of good things. These are: the pious, honours, praises, memorials, friendships, trusts, the reputations of ancestors, and what attaches to deeds, which one must not disgrace, and the keeping of what is fitting in life — such as good order, simplicity, truth, friendship; and it would belong here too if, besides these, the honourable is also constituted from praising and comparing the deeds of others. And in general, all that is according to virtue and the works of virtue: for all these belong to the honourable. And the opposites are set against these. The pious is constituted from the natural observance of the rights and customs toward the gods. The holy is constituted from the keeping of the rights toward the fatherland and its forethought, and toward parents and benefactors and teachers and those beneath the earth. The pleasant is constituted from the enjoyment of pleasures; and of pleasures some arise from taste, some from sight, some from hearing, some according to the understanding, which last happen to be the greater and the purer.

2.6. As for the panegyric kind, since it lies outside of questions at issue, its themes are either from persons or from matters, from which come both praises and encomia and hymns, and their opposites, censures. Of the laudatory kinds, then, one is called praise, one a hymn, one an encomium: a hymn is to the gods, having nothing of the opposite in it; praise is what is bestowed upon small things, such as "well" and "fairly" — for these too are laudatory — and again, "the good man," "the brave," "the just"; the encomium raises to something greater, and on this account they proceed by a full treatment. Praises are taken according to four modes: by amplification, by omission, by comparison, by fair speaking. By amplification, for instance, if one should wish, in praising the works of the ant, to say that it is most thrifty in the gathering of the harvest and in the storing of it, and moreover good at foreseeing the seasons sent by the gods and most prudent in preparing against the right times — and all that one might find in magnifying the ant. By omission, when, omitting the disagreeable things that attach to those being praised and that one might mention in censure, we report only the things worthy of praise — for instance, if, in praising Alexander, we should recount his other deeds: how he crossed the Granicus, how he advanced as far as Cilicia, how he subdued all the nations as far as the Ocean, but should omit the slaying of Cleitus and his addiction to drinking-bouts, and that he changed into Median dress and thought fit to be worshipped like the King of the Persians, and all such things as he had. By comparison, when, wishing to make the things of the one praised appear greater, we demonstrate it from comparison with other things, as Demosthenes, wishing to show that the works of Conon concerning the building of the walls were great, says they were better than those of Themistocles. By fair speaking, when, without omitting the disagreeable things, we report them in a fairer light, for instance, if, praising Alexander, we should say of the seizure of Helen, not that it was a wrong or an adultery or any sin against Menelaus the host, but that he desired to become a kinsman of Zeus; and again, of Helen, that she did not err in leaving her husband and her daughter and her home, but that she was eager to become renowned.

2.7. Of praising not coarsely, but being able to do it in as many ways as need arises in political questions, the modes are these. First, when one seems to have been brought to it not as one who plotted and prepared it himself, but as one compelled. Second, when one rejects some things and goes through others. A third mode, when, before saying anything, one asks pardon of the judges for what one is about to say. Fourth, when one keeps the praise within common matters. Fifth, when one declares that it befits the hearers themselves to accept it. Sixth, when one is able to show the adversaries doing the same thing, and declares it a dreadful thing that they should do it for their own advantage, but oneself not.

2.8. Concerning censure. Censure is taken in three modes; for one may censure by amplification, by omission, and by comparison — but not by fair speaking; rather, by the opposite of fair speaking, foul speaking. Censure arises by foul speaking when things well done are reported in a fouler light, for instance, if one should say that Menelaus marched against Troy not over great matters, not indignant over the things in which the barbarian outraged Greece, but for the sake of a single woman, and that not a good one, as the tragic poet too says: "O man who would lead an army for a woman's sake, and for nothing else."

1.1. Composition is of three kinds: the continuous, that which is strung out in sequence through several members, as: "For a disease, men of Athens, has fallen upon Greece, a grievous one"; the loose, sometimes diffused, as: "Let it be; let these things come about; I make no objection"; and that by period, which is a structure of clauses and phrases rounded off into a complete sense, as: "And, accounting them both serious, men of Athens, and necessary for the city, I shall try to say about them what I think to be expedient."

1.2. A clause is a composition of two or more words, as: "I lack no pretext for which to help Nicias." A phrase is a part of a clause, set down either by itself, as: "Know yourself," and "Nothing too much"; or with others, as: "I beseech you, by your children, by your wives, by the goods you possess."

1.3. A period is constituted out of a single clause, as: "For prosperity beyond one's deserts becomes, for the foolish, a starting-point for thinking ill"; or out of two clauses, as: "For to refuse to give something from the first is the act of men exercising judgement, but to take it away from those who have it is the act of the envious"; or out of three: "Gentlemen of the jury, chiefly because I think it expedient that the law be repealed, and then for the sake of the son of Chabrias, I agreed with these men to speak with them as best I could"; or out of more: "Those who praise your ancestors, men of Athens, seem to me to speak a gratifying speech, but not one that does service to those very men whom they extol."

1.4. The continuous and the loose composition would befit deeds and emotions; the periodic befits displays and proems and enthymemes.

1.5. Diction becomes obscure when one uses too archaic and ambiguous language, as: "O Zeus, might it fall to me to bring down the boar"; or in some other way, such as time, or cause, or place.

1.6. Diction is redundant if it has a word doubled without need, as: "I said, I spoke, I declared"; and if, concerning things already mentioned which we have stated, we should state the same things again afterward as well.

1.7. Diction is idle when it consists of barbarous words, newly coined and counterfeit; on which account it appears unseasonable, assigning the words of some things unseasonably to others and not expressing the matters. And indeed, if discourse had been devised for any purpose other than persuasion, there might perhaps have been some dispute; but since it is quite plain that the whole disposition of the faculty of reason has been set toward this one end, it must, surely, be one of two things: either the discourse is not right, nor appears sufficient, or else it is both best and prevails over its hearers. And discourse is a token of common humanity and of goodwill toward all, not of bitterness or of misanthropy.

2.1. Not one thing alone hinders us from recalling the expedition from Sicily, but first, that one must not change and alter one's resolves easily — for that is a dreadful thing. And you will amplify this in the quality of the person addressed: "But for you it is not even, on equal terms, as shameful as for all the others. Why? Because you are trusted to have more wisdom than the rest." And again another amplification from the matter, that you did not deliberate about these affairs simply, nor for a short time; and here you will set beside it the things drawn from history. Against these, the first antithesis: "But Sicily is hard to take." This too we knew was said before — both how great its size is and how great the voyage round it — and yet we sent the expedition. But indeed it is not even hard to take; for its inhabitants are at faction and at war with one another. What, then, is hard in taking an island divided both in its preparations and in its counsels? But we have stumbled. Yet one must not so easily give way in spirit; and this you will establish from a like case that occurred among the Syracusans themselves, that they too, having stumbled not once but many times, recovered themselves; and if they did, so will you. What absurdity, then, comes of their changing course? First, shame — not only at having deliberated badly, but at seeming less manly than the Syracusans; then you will make the Syracusans despise you. "But the Lacedaemonians have broken the truce." Yet not even then did we appear to take courage from these truces. "But the fort they have raised against us is something new." What then? Do you think that, going there, they will overpower the Lacedaemonians? And indeed, if they stay within, it may perhaps be even to our advantage as well; for it is no benefit to the besieged to bring in a great crowd of men. What goods will come to them from taking Sicily? "But Gylippus is gathering an army and mustering Sicily." Then what befitted you was not to flee in fear, but rather to send out another fleet, which will furnish our citizens with a desire no less than Gylippus furnishes the Syracusans; for our men will have not only the strength, but the consciousness of having often prevailed, while those who think to set right the former state by their numbers, then appear weaker in their preparations, will, I think, with good reason become inferior in spirit as well. The remaining inquiry is from the outcomes. "What more will there be, even if we prevail? For we shall not be able to hold it, being far off." But I could wish that your affairs stood thus, since to hold it and to guard it is secure. And you might say, violently and in the manner of Demosthenes, that it is not even possible to do anything else; for we shall seem not to be withdrawing but to be fleeing, and not as men unable to take it, but as men afraid to suffer; then the Syracusans will not refrain from pursuing us; and if this comes about, I fear the danger may be over the Piraeus itself, and we may admit enemy ships into our own harbours, when we ought to be blockading others. Such, then, are the things, and in such terms.

1.1. "Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles son of Peleus." For it is the work of the Muses to go through with precision the wrath with which Achilles was wrathful at Troy and the things that befell from it; for they were neither slight nor few, but this, the most grievous of the things of the war, came upon the Achaeans: for many of them, good men, were destroyed before their time, and to many it did not fall even to obtain burial, but the dogs made an end of them as they lay. And it was the plan of Zeus, and not by mere chance did so many things fall together, beginning from when first Achilles son of Peleus and Agamemnon son of Atreus, king of the Greeks, fell into strife. Which, then, of the gods set them at odds, and from what shall we say the strife began? From Apollo, who cast a plague upon the Achaeans in anger at their king; and the cause of it was this. A certain old man came, Chryses by name, to the camp of the Achaeans, a priest of Apollo, to ransom his captive daughter, who was in the keeping of Agamemnon, holding a golden staff and on the staff the fillets of the god, bringing too not the least of ransoms; and he supplicated all the Achaeans, but especially the sons of Atreus, praying together with them that they might take Troy and be saved home, but that to himself it might fall to ransom the girl, and that it altogether befitted them to revere the god. Thereupon all the rest received his words and shouted assent to give the child back to the priest; but Agamemnon would not give her up, and threatened besides that if he caught him either lingering now or coming again hereafter for the same purpose, his supplication would not avail him, and the words would no longer be on behalf of the child, but for his own safety; and her he would not release, but would keep her in Argos as a wife, plying his household tasks all her life; but if he wanted any safety, let him go at once. Hearing this, the priest was afraid and immediately departed in silence; but when he was at a distance from the camp, he sent up every cry, calling on Apollo as Sminthian, Tenedian, Chrysean, Fair-bowed, naming all his names: "If ever, master, I either offered you sacrifice or roofed a temple to please you, let this now be granted me in return for those things: to wipe off these tears upon the Achaeans' own bodies; and may you come upon them as an archer." The god receives his prayers and at once set out for the punishment.

2.1. There were lambs, well-nourished and thick with fleece, marvellous in beauty and in size. These I took and bound quietly together, three by three; for there were those on which the Cyclops slept, and the middle one was to carry one of my comrades, while one on either side ran beside it as a trace-horse, for safety's sake. For the others, then, these served me; but I myself set about it in the following way. There was a ram, beyond all others huge and exceedingly shaggy; about him I threw both my hands along his back and lay hidden under his belly, until I too came to be there; then, turning round, I clung fast. So through that night, faring thus hard, we held out.