excess of similes drawn from natural history, usually untrue to nature,
and a habit of antithesis, which, by constant repetition becomes
exceedingly wearisome. Euphues, wishing to convince his listeners of
the inferiority of outward to inward perfection, pursues the following
argument:

The foule Toade hath a fayre stone in his head, the fine golde is
found in the filthy earth; the sweet kernell lyeth in the hard
shell; vertue is harboured in the heart of him that most men
esteeme misshappen. Contrarywise, if we respect more the outward
shape, then the inward habit, good God, into how many mischiefs do
wee fall? into what blindnesse are we ledde? Due we not commonly
see that in painted pottes is hidden the deadlyest poyson? that in
the greenest grasse is ye greatest serpent? in the cleerest water
the vgliest Toade? Doth not experience teach vs, that in the most
curious sepulcher are enclosed rotten bones? That the Cypresse tree
beareth a faire leafe, but no fruite? That the Estridge carrieth
faire feathers, but ranke flesh? How frantick are those louers
which are carried away with the gaye glistering of the fine face?

"In the coldest flint," says Lucilla, "there is hot fire, the Bee
that hath hunny in hir mouth, hath a sting in hir tayle; the tree
that beareth the sweetest fruite, hath a sower sap; yea, the wordes
of men though they seeme smooth as oyle: yet their heartes are as
crooked as the stalke of luie."

Lyly's antithetical style is well illustrated by the following passage,
in which he means to be particularly serious and impressive:

If I should talke in words of those things which I haue to conferre