him who hears it neither well
disposed to one, nor inclined to receive information, nor attentive;
or (and that indeed is the most disastrous effect of all) renders him
of a totally contrary disposition. And now we have said enough about
the exordium.

XIX. Narration is an explanation of acts that have been done, or of
acts as if they have been done. There are three kinds of narration.
One kind is that in which the cause itself and the whole principle of
the dispute is contained. Another is that in which some digression,
unconnected with the immediate argument, is interposed, either for the
sake of criminating another, or of instituting a comparison, or of
provoking some mirth not altogether unsuitable to the business under
discussion, or else for the sake of amplification. The third kind is
altogether foreign to civil causes, and is uttered or written for the
sake of entertainment, combined with its giving practice, which is not
altogether useless. Of this last there are two divisions, the one of
which is chiefly conversant about things, and the other about persons.
That which is concerned in the discussion and explanation of things
has three parts, fable, history, and argument. Fable is that in which
statements are expressed which are neither true nor probable, as is
this--

"Huge winged snakes, join'd by one common yoke."

History is an account of exploits which have been performed, removed
from the recollection of our own age; of which sort is the statement,
"Appius declared war against the Carthaginians." Argument is an
imaginary case, which still might have happened. Such is this in
Terence--

"For after Sosia became a man."

But that sort of narration which is conversant about persons, is of
such a sort that in it not only the facts themselves, but also the
conversations of the persons concerned and their very minds can be
thoroughly seen, in this way--

"And oft he came to me with mournful voice,
What is your aim, your conduct what? Oh why
Do you this youth with these sad arts destroy?
Why does he fall in love? Why seeks he wine,
And why do you from time to time supply
The means for such excess? You study dress
And folly of all kinds; while he, if left
To his own natural bent, is stern and strict,
Almost beyond the claims of virtue."

In this kind of narration there ought to be a great deal of
cheerfulness wrought up out of the variety of circumstances; out of
the