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<DATE>2005-08-02</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Olivia Bottum</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="A70659">
<STC T="W">M82A</STC>
<BIBNO T="oclc">18182417</BIBNO>
<VID>106928</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>THE LIFE OF A SATYRICAL PVPPY, Called NIM.</P>
<P>WHO WORRIETH ALL THOSE SATYRISTS HE KNOWES, AND BARKES AT THE REST.</P>
<P>By <HI>T. M.</HI></P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed by for <HI>Humphrey Mo&s;eley,</HI> at the <HI>Prince's Armes</HI> in St. <HI>Paul</HI>'s Church-yard. 1657.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="dedication">
<PB REF="2">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, and mo&s;t eminent GEORGE Duke of <HI>BUCKINGHAM,</HI> &amp;c:</HEAD>
<OPENER><SALUTE>Great Sir,</SALUTE></OPENER>
<P>_EXpectation flattering my hopes, &s;hortned the way from <HI>London</HI> hither: but now the Servants &s;low a&s;pects, &amp; <HI>re&s;erv'd</HI> behaviours, might &s;care young mode&s;ty, from ventu|ring to approach. Yet I excu&s;e the &s;mal addre&s;s, they &s;uffer to your noble per|&s;on, by &s;aying, they know the worth of it: therefore make it not <HI>cheap</HI> to every Eie. And in &s;uppo&s;ing all <HI>Strangers</HI> to be <HI>Sutors,</HI> they proclaim your aboad the very <HI>Seat,</HI> where all <HI>Ju&s;tice</HI> doth inhabit. Here I arrive empty of <HI>mer|cenary</HI> Thoughts; for <HI>Duty</HI> hath pre|fer'd
<PB REF="3" MS="y">
me to &s;uch a strange <HI>ambition,</HI> that I do even give unto your gracious &s;elf <HI>Nim,</HI> and <HI>Bung</HI> his man, both born to attend your Lord&s;hips mirth. It was made, tran&s;crib'd, and bound up yours, nay I was &s;o <HI>zealous</HI> in <HI>curio&s;i|ty,</HI> that but this Copy (be&s;ides the Ori|ginal) is extant Had not learned friends (after peru&s;al) urg'd me to this bold|ne&s;&s;e, <HI>Nim</HI> had known humility, who now di&s;covers the in&s;ide of them&punc; who mo&s;t envy your Graces high, de&s;erved happine&s;s, whil&s;t every <HI>jea&s;t</HI> proves by interpretation <HI>&s;erious,</HI> though he <HI>nominates</HI> none. If in the lea&s;t kind he degenerate from my cha&s;t intents, tear it&punc; into a form more di&s;plea&s;ing then your Anger&punc; All my pre&s;ent &s;ute is, your <HI>Grace</HI> would deigne to read it&punc; which when confirm'd by promi&s;e, I &s;hall re|turn to&punc; <HI>London,</HI> and publi&s;h my &s;uc|ce&s;&s;e.</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Your <HI>Graces</HI> humble&s;t Servant T. M.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>THE CONTENTS OF THE CHAPTERS.</HEAD>
<LIST>
<LABEL>CHAP. I.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>NIM,</HI> after his <HI>Proem</HI> to the Reader, di&s;|covers the place of his birth: and why the relation of his Childi&s;h proceedings, is omitted.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. II.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> tells the Story of his <HI>Patrons</HI> death, with other circum&s;tances worth the reading.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. III.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> reports the conditions of his <HI>Patrons</HI> Heir; with the rea&s;on, and manner of his de|parture from him.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. IV.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> riding towards <HI>London</HI> is overtaken by a Citizen; who tells them a merry &s;tory: be|&s;ides their di&s;cour&s;e, together with the fa&s;hion of
<PB REF="4" MS="y">
their Ho&s;t in <HI>Mayden-head,</HI> is in this Chapter mo&s;t punctually related.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. V.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> per&s;everes in relating what befel them in the Inne: rides from thence to <HI>London,</HI> ac|quaints you with a Fea&s;t worth the laughing at: treats of the <HI>City-Cries,</HI> and promi&s;eth graver &s;tuffe hereafter.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. VI.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> mo&s;t wittily reveales his admirable <HI>Dream,</HI> urnes <HI>Satyri&s;t,</HI> and omits not the re|lation of tho&s;e rea&s;ens, which induc'd him to it.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. VII.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> being drunk&punc; goes to hire a Servant in <HI>Paul's,</HI> and after a &s;ober de&s;cription of the Church, and Walkers, recounts how &s;trangely he was &s;upply'd with one.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. VIII.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> acquaints you with his fir&s;t proceedings in his <HI>Satyricall</HI> calling; and inveighs again&s;t Threee Men, who publiqnely profe&s;&s;e them&s;elves to be of the &s;ame vocation.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. IX.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> doth in particular exclaim&punc; again&s;t all tho&s;e <HI>Satyri&s;ts,</HI> who hide them&s;elves, yet publi&s;h
<PB REF="4" MS="y">
their Writings: &s;hews rea&s;ons for &s;o doing: with a trick that he hath, bobs privately: delivers a brief &s;uperficiall <HI>Character</HI> of the <HI>Hollan|ders,</HI> and relates in what manner he &s;pent part of his time in <HI>London,</HI> when attended on by his Man <HI>Bung.</HI></ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. X.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> being de&s;irous to make thee laugh, doth in this Chapter report a notable merry acci|dent, which befel his Man <HI>Oliver Bung.</HI></ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. XI.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> takes occa&s;ion to pre&s;ent thy acceptance with a <HI>Character</HI> of a <HI>Whore,</HI> and hath gra|ced his expre&s;&s;ion, by the relation of <HI>Bungs</HI> mo&s;t witty revenge.</ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. XII.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> complains of <HI>Bung's</HI> villanous &s;ervice, intends to be rid of him, declares what him&s;elfe hath &s;pent &s;ince he came to <HI>London:</HI> and di&s;|cour&s;es mo&s;t wittily upon a Book, called, <HI>An in|vective again&s;t the Plebeians</HI> and <HI>Citizens of London.</HI></ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. XIII.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> ripps open the Hearts of <HI>Citizens,</HI> condemns them ju&s;tly, builds another <HI>Ca&s;tle</HI> in the Air, and relates the pretty fa&s;hion of it.</ITEM>
<LABEL><PB REF="5" MS="y">CHAP. XIV.</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim</HI> mentions his proceedings again&s;t &s;ome of the <HI>Nobility;</HI> and what &s;ucce&s;&s;e he had: af|terwards (in a Pamphlet) di&s;covers all the de|fects of his own penning: &s;ends <HI>Bung</HI> to &s;ell it: who&s;e bad adventures, moove him to raile on <HI>Fate.</HI></ITEM>
<LABEL>CHAP. XV,</LABEL>
<ITEM><HI>Nim's</HI> Ho&s;te&s;&s;e denies to tru&s;t him, he fa&s;ts two Daies, pawns his Cloaths; then re&s;olving to part with <HI>Bung,</HI> &s;ends for him to a <HI>Tavern,</HI> and gives him learned Coun&s;ell. But after <HI>Bungs</HI> reply, he doth change his mind, and re|turns with him, to his <HI>Patrons</HI> Heir: promi|&s;ing (on a &s;mooth condition) to ble&s;&s;e this Book with a &s;econd Part.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="life">
<PB REF="5">
<HEAD>THE LIFE OF A SATYRICAL PUPPY; Called NIM: WHO WORRIETH ALL THOSE SATYRISTS HE KNOWS, AND BARKS AT THE REST.</HEAD>
<DIV2 N="1" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. I.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> after his Proem to the Reader, di&s;co|vers the place of his Birth; and why the relation of his childi&s;h proceedings, is omitted.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>_IF by divulging my defects, I pre|&s;ent in &s;ome particular thine&punc; to thy remembrance; it will not onely recompen&s;e my la|bour in <HI>Writing,</HI> but thine in <HI>Reading.</HI> I make the whole World my <HI>Con|fe&s;&s;or:</HI>
<PB N="2" REF="6">
preferring a publique commi&s;eration, before a private &s;hrift. What I have done, I have done: nor &s;halt thou behold my Peni|tence, untill thine&punc; Eyes arrive to the end of our Hi&s;tory. If thou finde&s;t my faults capital, &s;eeke out my excu&s;e in thine own guilt; and then blu&s;h for us both. I entend to wrong no man but my &s;elfe, as knowing where I may mo&s;t pre&s;ume of pardon: therefore extract no dangerous &s;en&s;e from any coor&s;e, ambigu|ous phra&s;e. If thy approbation cea&s;e on my advice, may all the labour I &s;pent to revive my <HI>griefs,</HI> beget <HI>mirth</HI> and thy future ea&s;e.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, to prevent all inqui&s;itive expectati|on concerning my <HI>Parentage,</HI> I will relate it to you. My Father was a <HI>Gentleman</HI> by birth, though <HI>Time</HI> hath &s;tolne away his <HI>Coate,</HI> and di&s;gui&s;ed him in <HI>nece&s;&s;itie.</HI> My Mother (&s;ubject to the &s;ame fortune) may pleade the like in her defence: le&s;t <HI>detraction</HI> (advan|tag'd by laing hold on my behavior in the World) might wrong her Ance&s;tors. He was never &s;tak'd to a certaine place of re&s;idence: but went on <HI>Pilgrimage</HI> fourteen yeares to vi&s;it the Shrine of Saint <HI>Charity;</HI> at la&s;t found it <HI>Wintring,</HI> (or at lea&s;t very cold) in <HI>Hackney,</HI> three Miles di&s;tant from <HI>London.</HI></P>
<P>The fat Miller there (a notable old Thiefe) made him his <HI>Tenant:</HI> but he gul'd his own <HI>Con&s;cience</HI> with an <HI>excu&s;ive Proverbe (falle|re</HI>
<PB N="3" REF="6">
<HI>fallentem non e&s;t fraus)</HI> &amp; him of five yeares Rent, with running away. Leaving me (very young) as pawne to the Pari&s;h for that, and other borrowed Money, till <HI>Fortune,</HI> and his hone&s;ty, could procure my redemption. But as the <HI>Miller</HI> &s;wore in a prophetique fury, (that will never be) &s;o it hath prov'd: nor have I &s;ince &s;o much as heard from him, or can devi&s;e whither he went. Therefore in revenge of &s;uch unnaturall dealing I will quite exempt the memory of him from our Story, and returne to the <HI>Miller:</HI> as I needs mu&s;t, &s;ince <HI>Nece&s;&s;ity</HI> is my <HI>Guide,</HI> and hath left me no where el&s;e to goe. His <HI>Countenance</HI> (poore Man) lowers in a mo&s;t prepo&s;terous forme: for his Eies are <HI>heavie,</HI> which natu|rally require the <HI>light.</HI> His plump Cheekes (that were wont to be &s;o immode&s;t as to ki&s;&s;e his &s;houlders) re&s;emble now <HI>Famine</HI> painted on a <HI>clean</HI> Trencher. His great <HI>Belly</HI> (that barr'd him the &s;ight of both his knees) is growne invi&s;ible it &s;elfe. All his di&s;cour&s;e tends to the de&s;cription of my Fathers dex|terity in running away, which he admires with Cur&s;es.</P>
<P>There is a goodly Meddow joyning to his Hou&s;e, encompa&s;&s;ed with a River: who&s;e beauty in the <HI>Summer,</HI> did often invite my wantonne&s;&s;e, to &s;port with <HI>May-Flies,</HI> dabble in the water, hunt my &s;haddow: all which
<PB N="4" REF="7">
expre&s;t how truly &s;en&s;ele&s;s I was, that a <HI>Com|pell'd Charity</HI> from divers men, maintain'd my <HI>being.</HI> If the &s;otti&s;h old Man mett me there, he would even <HI>&s;indge</HI> his <HI>Beard</HI> with a &s;corch|ing <HI>&s;igh,</HI> and quench the <HI>Liquid flame</HI> againe with <HI>Teares.</HI> Villaine (quoth he) Where is my <HI>Rent?</HI> a <HI>plague</HI> upon your Fathers <HI>dexteri|ty</HI>! his <HI>London</HI> debts, that were due to him on <HI>Whit&s;unday</HI> was Twelve-moneth! his <HI>Chri&s;tmas-tales!</HI> his <HI>co&s;tly-invitations;</HI> my <HI>Wife,</HI> my two <HI>Sonnes,</HI> and my &s;elfe to a butter'd <HI>Par&s;nip,</HI> three poach't <HI>Egges,</HI> and a dride <HI>Cu|cumber.</HI> Goe from my &s;ight, you Ba&s;tard: Mun you live &s;o merry (with a pox) upon o|ther Mens co&s;ts? your grea&s;ie chops (thanks to my &s;innes) doth co&s;t me for my &s;hare, two pence a weeke. None of this could my young capacity apprehend; wherefore <HI>Nature</HI> did not only make <HI>ignorance</HI> worthy his <HI>envie,</HI> but a <HI>defence</HI> to me, and <HI>offence</HI> to him. It was not long after when <HI>Fortune</HI> expre&s;t her &s;miles, in delivering me from thence: for on a <HI>Tue&s;|day</HI> night, a Gentleman (hot and dry with hard riding) lighted at the Mill, proffer'd mo|ney for a <HI>Cup</HI> of <HI>Beere,</HI> and had it: I held his his Hor&s;e. The <HI>Miller</HI> (who greedily ex|pected &s;ome occa&s;ion, whereby he might proclaime his formerlo&s;&s;e, and pre&s;ent <HI>Cha|rity</HI>) accu&s;es me of cheating Boyes at play, how I had ju&s;t my Fathers <HI>tricks</HI> even by <HI>&s;uc|ce&s;&s;ion,</HI>
<PB N="5" REF="7">
at la&s;t blurts out all. The Gentleman marking my <HI>&s;parki&s;h</HI> behaviour, and with what an <HI>innocent re&s;olution</HI> I &s;tood in defence of my Father, earne&s;tly enquires after my name, which was no &s;ooner told him, but he tooke me by the hand, &amp; called me <HI>Kin&s;man:</HI> for he him&s;elf was a <HI>Glouce&s;ter-&s;hire</HI> NIM, but whether there were any <HI>propinquitie</HI> of blood between us, I could never yet learne. Well, he was a wealthy old <HI>Batchelor,</HI> and my <HI>good genius</HI> did &s;o farre collogue with his, that without entreaty he promi&s;t to di&s;charge the Pari&s;h of my <HI>Per&s;on</HI> within a weeke: his <HI>action</HI> pur&s;ued his <HI>promi&s;e</HI> too, as fa&s;t as a good Hor&s;e could bring it to me, and me to him. Under who&s;e charge I lived, till I was one and Twenty yeares old: where, and in what manner I omit to di&s;cover, it being (indeed) nothing pertinent to that <HI>grave &s;tuffe,</HI> where|with I intend to line my Book. For what pa&s;|&s;ages can &s;uch green yeares afford, worthy thy knowledge or my de&s;cription? none at all: yet &s;ome have that way (heretofore) caught the approbation of learned <HI>Readers,</HI> when in another <HI>way,</HI> they have quite <HI>lo&s;t</HI> them&s;elves. So great a difference is there between the <HI>Times</HI> pa&s;t and ours: for <HI>Fancy</HI> (who&s;e <HI>Weakene&s;&s;e</HI> then foild off the defects of a bad writer) is now turned to a &s;econd <HI>Zo&iuml;lus,</HI> and dulles the <HI>edge</HI> of her own <HI>delight,</HI>
<PB N="6" REF="8">
with ab&s;ur'd <HI>Carping.</HI> So <HI>&s;ingularly</HI> excellent likewi&s;e is <HI>naturall in&s;tinct,</HI> admitting no <HI>&s;e|cond</HI> quality to pa&s;&s;e approved under her ex|pre&s;&s;ion. But how&s;oever each circum&s;tance that my proceedings did beger after my <HI>non|age</HI> (impartiall of my <HI>future</HI> Fame, or the name of NIM) I will relate.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="2" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. II.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> Tells the Story of his Patrons Death, with other circum&s;tances, worth reading.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>THe World had not owned me full one and twenty years when my good <HI>Patron</HI> dyed; being old, &amp; rich: but too well &s;tored with <HI>Kin&s;men;</HI> there were more NIMS be&s;ides my &s;elfe. Wone <HI>Baby</HI> came po&s;t from <HI>Glouce|&s;ter,</HI> &amp; arriv'd at our Hou&s;e two dayes before the <HI>Funeralls</HI> were &s;ollemnized. A &s;econd <HI>&s;quint-eied-Fop</HI> of <HI>Teuxburie,</HI> that could &s;carce perceive a <HI>Mountaine</HI> through a <HI>Pro&s;pective</HI> (Hor&s;t on his <HI>covetuous</HI> de&s;ires) arriv'd there, the <HI>Funeral</HI> day: not to mourn (heaven knows) but upon a certaine <HI>Phy&s;icall</HI> adverti&s;ement, that <HI>Gold</HI> is <HI>&s;overaigne for the Eie-&s;ight.</HI> My fortune proved worth a Hundred Pounds, which the good man left me by Will: in re|compence of which, &amp; all former courte&s;ies, I
<PB N="7" REF="8">
am plea&s;ed to extract him a &s;econd <HI>life,</HI> from the true relation of the manner of his <HI>Death.</HI></P>
<P>He lay &s;ick of a <HI>burning Fever</HI> a long time, his death being deferred more for the <HI>Phy&s;i|tians gaine,</HI> then his <HI>ea&s;e,</HI> or probability of e|ver recovering: A <HI>nece&s;&s;ary</HI> knavery in them, and <HI>Lawyers,</HI> to make men give money for paine and trouble. Five howres before his departure hence, he bad me write his <HI>Will.</HI> The di&s;po&s;ing a thing of &s;uch <HI>con&s;equence</HI> to the weake managing of our decayed &s;en&s;es, and la&s;t minutes, expre&s;t in him that <HI>counter|fit</HI> hope of longer life, which covetous men <HI>force</HI> from <HI>dead</HI> Hearts, and &s;ix to oppo&s;e &s;en&s;e; mo&s;t apparent in contradiction.</P>
<P>His &s;ick <HI>Groans</HI> accompanying his words, ar|gued (me-thought) with what an ill will he parted from tho&s;e <HI>gifts,</HI> and how &s;orry he was, he could not make his &s;oul <HI>Executor.</HI> A great minde he had to erect an <HI>Almes-hou&s;e</HI> for <HI>decayed Souldiers:</HI> but a poore benefic'd <HI>Par&s;on</HI> (who &s;tood by) &s;mothers in his owne <HI>particular</HI> want, the knowledg of that &s;uper|fluous height which <HI>generally</HI> his <HI>Tribe</HI> live in, and &s;trives by the force of <HI>zealous phra&s;e,</HI> to make him&s;elf <HI>di&s;po&s;er</HI> of anothers <HI>Charity:</HI> pleading how much the building of a <HI>Col|ledge,</HI> with allowance for Twenty <HI>Fellowes,</HI> would encrea&s;e <HI>Learning,</HI> and memorize the noble <HI>Given.</HI> The <HI>Phy&s;itian</HI> (who till now &s;at &s;ilent on the Bed) &s;peakes in approbation of
<PB N="8" REF="9">
the &s;ick mans former intent, and maintaines with <HI>lu&s;ty</HI> Argument, how nece&s;&s;ary it is, poore <HI>Souldiers</HI> that lo&s;e their <HI>Limbs</HI> abroad, in defence of their Country (returning not rich enough to buy <HI>Woodden ones</HI>) &s;hould be relieved, le&s;t <HI>nece&s;&s;ity</HI> arming them with an excu&s;e; they con&s;pire with forraigne Ene|mies to be&s;iege <HI>Ingratitude</HI> at home. The Par&s;on being cro&s;s'd, fell from <HI>mode&s;t</HI> di&s;|cour&s;e, to <HI>impious</HI> rayling, and mixing <HI>&s;erious ab&s;urditie,</HI> with a <HI>leaden witt</HI> he bandies <HI>Je&s;ts:</HI> among&s;t the re&s;t this one was noted, becau&s;e he laught at it him &s;elfe. Sir, (quoth he) be|like <HI>Souldiers</HI> want <HI>Pur&s;es</HI> for you to <HI>purge,</HI> &amp; the Devill hath po&s;&s;e&s;t you with an <HI>imaginary</HI> inconvenience that follows good deeds. You are grown wearie too of mini&s;tring <HI>Phy&s;ick</HI> to poore Men <HI>gratis,</HI> your <HI>Charity</HI> is cold, and lacks a <HI>wrought velved Gowne</HI> to warme it: or your Wor&s;hip would ride a <HI>Cock-hor&s;e,</HI> and change <HI>Foot-clothes</HI> every Spring. No (re|plied the Phy&s;itian) <HI>Cu&s;tome</HI> and <HI>rugged War</HI> is in the <HI>Souldier</HI> an <HI>Antidote</HI> that prevents the very effects of &s;ickne&s;&s;e: nor <HI>Cannon,</HI> nor <HI>Sword</HI> makes any worke for us: therefore if any man (in that kinde) be guilty of <HI>Covetu|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e,</HI> it is the <HI>Chirurgion,</HI> to whom ad|dre&s;s your accu&s;ation. Yet I mo&s;t admire how you can apply Pride to us, for being a thing that becomes no man we &s;eldome
<PB N="9" REF="9">
weare it: but (contrary to the Proverb) it becomes you wor&s;t, <HI>though it be now in fa&s;hion with you.</HI> Your chief Men, that &s;hould be fixt in a <HI>Civill po&s;ture,</HI> thereby to nouri&s;h comely <HI>imitation,</HI> have ca&s;t off ancient decency, and charme the eyes weake cen&s;ure to an affecta|tion of the <HI>Italian</HI> habit. Their <HI>&s;tate</HI> is more re&s;erved then a <HI>Princes,</HI> or an old <HI>French</HI> Courtiers, who in his proude&s;t <HI>di&s;tance,</HI> feares his worth too much undervalued. A <HI>fortu|nate Petitioner</HI> may (haply) with much ob|&s;equious phra&s;e, recover from &s;ome under|<HI>Chaplaine</HI> an Emperious Nod, and dance at|tendance but halfe an houre longer, <HI>according to the la&s;t addition.</HI> This made the <HI>Par&s;on</HI> &s;tronger in defiance: for all the company tooke his part, and inforc'd the <HI>Doctor</HI> to con|fe&s;&s;e it malicious detraction, which pre&s;ently he did.</P>
<P>But now returne we to my &s;ick <HI>Patron,</HI> who hearing his charitable motion begot &s;uch &s;triffe, concludes <HI>negatively</HI> both waies: and pre&s;ently after, lo&s;t the u&s;e of both his Eyes, denoting it with a piercing &s;hreek, whil&s;t we that were in the Chamber (amaz'd at &s;o &s;ud|den an alteration) tire the Collerick <HI>Phy&s;i|tian,</HI> with ab&s;ur'd que&s;tions. The <HI>blinde</HI> man can &s;ee no more hope now of longer life in this world, no though the <HI>Doctor</HI> dur&s;t once more be &s;o impious to make him <HI>&s;pecta|cles</HI>
<PB N="10" REF="10">
of <HI>covetuous flattery,</HI> therefore he growes holy, prayes, and talkes of Heaven, which the <HI>Par&s;on</HI> having by divine mercy fully a&s;|&s;ur'd him, he &s;uddenly likewi&s;e lo&s;t his <HI>&s;peech&punc;</HI> &s;ome applying it to the <HI>Heavenly</HI> comfort he received, as if <HI>&s;ilence</HI> expre&s;t it, to be above <HI>expre&s;&s;ion.</HI> Others, that (according to the <HI>Ba|tavian Philo&s;ophy</HI>) hold the Soul dividuall in her &s;elfe, and each member <HI>particularly</HI> to enjoy &s;ome <HI>particular</HI> part of her, would needs per&s;wade me the <HI>Tongue</HI> dyed then, that the <HI>Soule</HI> of it might goe before to be&s;peake room for her <HI>fellowes.</HI> It was not long after when all his <HI>Limbes</HI> di&s;claimed motion, and he life: his e&s;tate unfurni&s;ht with an <HI>Executor,</HI> by rea&s;on the time which he re&s;erved to deter|mine of one was too &s;hort, but the <HI>Glo&s;ter</HI> Man (being his Nephew) di&s;inherited the o|ther, who&s;e hopes were &s;trengthened by a promi&s;e the old Man made five yeares before his death; not by any home alliance, for he was no more then his <HI>Co&s;en</HI> thrice remoov'd. They which followed the <HI>Coffin</HI> to buriall, went wet&s;hod in tho&s;e affectionate <HI>Teares,</HI> which flowed &s;o abundantly from the young <HI>Heires</HI> Eyes. I never thinke on it, or on <HI>Do|ting Lovers,</HI> but I call <HI>Nature</HI> an Enemy to <HI>Love:</HI> who &s;uffers it never to be expre&s;t with <HI>apparent demon&s;tration;</HI> but when it is expre&s;t, <HI>unnece&s;&s;ary</HI> or <HI>hurtfull.</HI> I did a moneth after his
<PB N="11" REF="10">
decea&s;e (whil&s;t his <HI>memory</HI> was <HI>young, lu&s;ty,</HI> &amp; able to overcome <HI>detraction</HI> with <HI>di&s;proofe</HI>) publi&s;h him to the World in an impartiall Character, but 'tis requi&s;ite I barr thee the &s;ight of it, becau&s;e (being lo&s;t) I cannot &s;hew it: yet if a de&s;ire to encrea&s;e in <HI>knowledge,</HI> cau&s;e thee to think thy &s;elfe wrong'd, be re|compenc'd in reading this <HI>Dialogue</HI> between <HI>Death</HI> and <HI>me.</HI></P>
<LG>
<HEAD>NIM.</HEAD>
<L>Death, what crochet came into thy minde,</L>
<L>To &s;trike my hone&s;t Patron blind</L>
<L>Ere 'twas with him perpetuall Night?</L>
<L>Come tell me, did&s;t not thou &s;uppo&s;e</L>
<L>His Soul the way to Heaven would lo&s;e,</L>
<L>By being thus depriv'd of &s;ight?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>DEATH.</HEAD>
<L>No, Nim, I brought it &s;o to pa&s;&s;e,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e that he a <HI>Coward</HI> was</L>
<L>And had a very <HI>little Heart.</HI></L>
<L>Therefore (to <HI>finde</HI> it) did devi&s;e</L>
<L>A way to pluck forth both his <HI>Eyes,</HI></L>
<L>And <HI>&s;ticke</HI> them fa&s;t on this my <HI>Dart.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>NIM.</HEAD>
<L>Death, now thou do&s;t him double wrong,</L>
<L>For when <HI>St Albons</HI> Bells were wrung</L>
<L>By great <HI>Devills</HI> in the Steeple,</L>
<L><PB N="12" REF="11">He <HI>Valianrly</HI> climes up the Stayrs,</L>
<L><HI>Arm'd</HI> only with a Dozen <HI>Prayers,</HI></L>
<L>Which were heard by all the People.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>DEATH.</HEAD>
<L>Why true, but do&s;t not thou know Man</L>
<L>The <HI>Tongue</HI> is <HI>Weapon</HI> to a Woman,</L>
<L>And &s;harper far then two-edg'd Swords</L>
<L>Which maketh in all con&s;equence</L>
<L>His <HI>Heart</HI> not &s;trong, but his <HI>Defence,</HI></L>
<L>If they <HI>Speake blowes</HI> that <HI>fight</HI> with <HI>Words.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>NIM.</HEAD>
<L>Goe, ba&s;e Detractor, doe not &s;trive</L>
<L>To kill his <HI>Fame,</HI> keepe that alive</L>
<L>The rea&s;on why he <HI>prayed</HI> there,</L>
<L>Was that (being <HI>darke</HI>) the <HI>Devill</HI></L>
<L>Might <HI>know</HI> him from an Infidell</L>
<L>And not for Pidgeon-Liverd-Feare.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>DEATH.</HEAD>
<L>This &s;tyle of <HI>ba&s;e</HI> will (thou &s;halt &s;ee)</L>
<L>Call back my purpos'd Lenitie</L>
<L>And be reveng'd on Brittanie</L>
<L>When e're long thy dead Mu&s;e mu&s;t come</L>
<L>(Wafted on Teares) to <HI>Ely&s;ium,</HI></L>
<L>Where there is <HI>Sack,</HI> yet none for thee.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="13" REF="11">
<HEAD>NIM.</HEAD>
<L>I, my Mu&s;e, and Country, care not a Fart,</L>
<L>For thee, thy envy, or thy fatall Dart:</L>
<L>Nor thinke I any there <HI>Canary</HI> have</L>
<L>At lea&s;t my Patron thought it not; for he</L>
<L>Tooke his departure hence &s;o <HI>heavily</HI></L>
<L>That eight could hardly lift him to his Grave.</L>
</LG>
<P>Thou &s;halt never &s;o much admire my <HI>Cou|rage,</HI> as in this my conference with <HI>Death;</HI> for though he frights other Mens <HI>Soules</HI> from their <HI>Bodies,</HI> yet can&s;t thou pick from the&s;e Ver&s;es no defect that doth expre&s;&s;e more then a very little feare; they went rather a <HI>timerous pace</HI> then <HI>&s;moothly</HI> from my Tongue: which I di&s;cover to nouri&s;h thy <HI>Detraction</HI> not my <HI>glory.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="3" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. III.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> reports the conditions of his Patrons Heire; with the rea&s;on, and manner of his departure from him.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>A <HI>Pa&s;&s;ionate, Man</HI> is a <HI>learned Bea&s;t;</HI> being moov'd, nor <HI>Man</HI> nor <HI>Bea&s;t:</HI> for he wants the &s;ence of the one, and in &s;ome kinde the un&s;en&s;ibilitie of the other. He takes the <HI>quick|e&s;t cure</HI> for his <HI>di&s;ea&s;e</HI> of any; for the next way to <HI>end his life,</HI> is his only <HI>Phy&s;ick.</HI> I cannot in
<PB N="14" REF="12">
mode&s;ty avouch that my <HI>Patrons</HI> Heire did counterfeit his <HI>Pa&s;&s;ion,</HI> for to pen&s;i&s;t in the di&s;|ea&s;e, is their <HI>cure</HI> becau&s;e it is their <HI>Death,</HI> &amp; no man can counterfeit <HI>Death</HI> unle&s;&s;e he will be buried <HI>alive.</HI> Be&s;ides to root in us a con|trary opinion of him, we will only remember how his <HI>Unkle</HI> maintained him Ten yeares under his own Roofe, which <HI>fatherly</HI> Charity (proclaim'd <HI>con&s;tant</HI> likewi&s;e by <HI>Time,</HI> who is be&s;t able to judge of <HI>con&s;tancy</HI>) could not but beger a <HI>&s;uper&s;titious love,</HI> which &s;till labours to requite with <HI>prodigall-Gratitude,</HI> yet is never <HI>weary</HI> nor <HI>&s;pent.</HI></P>
<P>When he was returned from the <HI>Funerall,</HI> and by the con&s;ent of the whole Country had taken po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of all, he gave charge his Unkles <HI>Wardrobe</HI> &s;hould be <HI>che&s;ted</HI> up, and kept as <HI>Reliques;</HI> only his <HI>Gloves, Points,</HI> and <HI>Garters</HI> he be&s;towed upon the <HI>Over&s;eers,</HI> and others whom his choyce <HI>pickt</HI> out, be&s;t to de|&s;erve their <HI>worth:</HI> conjuring each Man (for the decea&s;ed parties &s;ake) never to part from them, whil&s;t they (who before ble&s;t him in his <HI>Uncles</HI> name, &s;til mentioning the affinity of old acquaintance, in expectation of <HI>Rings&punc;</HI>) now cur&s;e his thrifty <HI>Super&s;tition,</HI> divulging abroad how well his liberalitie hath requited their pains: though I blamed tho&s;e <HI>poore gifts</HI> from him, as nothing but an old &s;implicity of <HI>Love</HI> that <HI>values</HI> things according to a &s;elfe e&s;tima|tion.
<PB N="15" REF="12">
A &s;trange dejected humour po&s;&s;e&s;t him three Months, his actions were quite void of formality, his <HI>dome&s;tick</HI> affaires by him&s;elfe neglected, &amp; managed by men more officious then hone&s;t. Being advi&s;ed by his friends to &s;ettle his <HI>E&s;tate,</HI> he made an&s;wer he could not live long, therefore would bu&s;ie his <HI>Soule</HI> on|ly with <HI>heavenly</HI> meditations. How (quoth I) God forbid your Wor&s;hip &s;hould di&s;parage the &s;ucce&s;&s;e of your new <HI>Fortunes</HI> with &s;uch fond &s;urmi&s;es. <HI>Nature</HI> in you is &s;o <HI>lu&s;ty,</HI> that it almo&s;t breakes the <HI>Bonds</HI> of <HI>Continence:</HI> full of <HI>pre&s;uming</HI> &s;trength, challenging all &s;ickly operations to a <HI>defiance,</HI> our youthfull blood, hardly to be tam'd with tho&s;e examples w^e^h <HI>experience</HI> doth demon&s;trate. I confe&s;&s;e (re|plied he) my immediate <HI>Heir</HI> cannot warrant his hopes either in my <HI>yeares</HI> or <HI>complexion,</HI> but I have a divining &s;pirit which prompts me to &s;uper&s;titious ob&s;ervations, and breeds a confirmation <HI>&s;tronger</HI> then thy opinion can <HI>remove.</HI> I an&s;wer'd, when our pen&s;ive thoughts doe &s;till accompany our hearts, they are (like our <HI>voyces</HI> accompanying our <HI>Maiden-heads</HI>) both lo&s;t together. His melancholy dull hu|mour could apprehend nothing, but the next morning &s;ent po&s;t to <HI>London</HI> for a <HI>Stone-cutter,</HI> who being come, was entertained as if he had fea&s;ted his <HI>content.</HI> They allotted the morning to con&s;ult of bu&s;ine&s;&s;es, wherein my
<PB N="16" REF="13">
advice was equally accepted with the be&s;t, although the <HI>Worke-mans gaine</HI> furni&s;ht them with fa&s;hions of more curious invention, <HI>hand&s;ome,</HI> in being <HI>co&s;tly;</HI> at la&s;t it was con|cluded two hundred pound &s;hould be be|&s;towed upon a Marble <HI>Tombe</HI> to cover my <HI>Pa|tron:</HI> the fa&s;hion of it 'tis impo&s;&s;ible to relate, for patience would tyre her &s;elfe in the de&s;|cription, being compos'd of nought but <HI>quirks,</HI> and various <HI>whim-whams.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Alteration</HI> appeares never more deformed, then when it appeares in <HI>Tombs,</HI> or <HI>Churches,</HI> where <HI>Antiquity</HI> &s;hewes mo&s;t <HI>reverend,</HI> mo&s;t <HI>&s;acred</HI> and begets <HI>Ceremonie; Cerimony, Super|&s;tition:</HI> but who hath more cau&s;e to accept of our blame, then &s;uch as will not limit their expence, according to that <HI>compudent</HI> Thrift, expre&s;t in ancient <HI>Monuments,</HI> but &s;trive with a <HI>zealous</HI> prodigality to exceede all the waies, <HI>mode&s;t</HI> Art can invent to con&s;ume their Money. The <HI>Stone-cutter</HI> (like <HI>Time</HI>) went <HI>&s;wiftly</HI> away from us, but <HI>never</HI> came back againe: for our <HI>Heires</HI> minde did change, dif|ferring the worke till the next Spring. He who&s;e <HI>co&s;tly</HI> experience had too well acquain|ted him with &s;uch incon&s;tant humors, la|bourd to prevent what he &s;u&s;pected by a &s;udden di&s;patch: but the me&s;&s;age was de|livered, before the &s;tuff that &s;hould have bin &s;ent to us was packt up: and gladly did the
<PB N="17" REF="13">
<HI>Stone-Cutter</HI> take a &s;mall &s;atisfaction for what he had begun, as confident it would ne|ver be effected. <HI>Premeditation</HI> in this kind (quoth he) prevents <HI>Action.</HI> Charitable deeds &s;hould be be&s;tow'd e're we can have lei&s;ure to examine why? Or on whom they are be&s;towed: Our <HI>Natures&punc;</HI> being prone to cen&s;ure <HI>fair De&s;ert,</HI> with <HI>fowl Detraction,</HI> and e&s;teem that which is not altogether <HI>nece&s;&s;ary, &s;uperfluous:</HI> telling us likewi&s;e we &s;hould not commit <HI>Evil</HI> that <HI>Good</HI> may come of it; but <HI>Toombs</HI> con&s;ume the money of the Living, to pre&s;erve the Fame of the <HI>Dead.</HI> Therefore he that wil have a <HI>How&s;e</HI> for his <HI>Memory</HI> to dwel in, mu&s;t build it him&s;elf, le&s;t being <HI>unhows'd,</HI> it die for cold, and we &s;tarve for want of Cu&s;tom.</P>
<P>This &s;udden change in our <HI>Heirs</HI> mind, did progno&s;ticate a generall alteration, though his affairs were con&s;tant to the di&s;po&s;ure of his Pa&s;&s;ion three Months: a time long e|nough to contradict the <HI>Proverb</HI> which &s;aith, <HI>Violent things, are never permanent.</HI> He that did eat rather to &s;atisfie tho&s;e hungry <HI>Worms,</HI> that will batten by his Death, than <HI>Nature</HI> that maintains Life: who&s;e <HI>Soul</HI> was in his <HI>Mouth,</HI> even ready to depart with the next <HI>Sigh,</HI> now makes a <HI>Phy&s;ition</HI> his <HI>Steward,</HI> feeds by pre&s;cription, is more punctual to ab&s;tain from Meat, that is out of &s;ea&s;on, then a &s;ick
<PB N="18" REF="14">
<HI>Epicure:</HI> and hopes he &s;hall live till <HI>Time,</HI> may throw a Dart at <HI>Death.</HI> After his e&s;tate was &s;etled, he took order to di&s;charge the Hou&s;e of poor me: being mov'd to <HI>antipathize</HI> from his Unkle in &s;o uncharitable a deed by my <HI>pre&s;uming</HI> in&s;olence, that appear'd mo&s;t com|monly when I was drunk. Once my Tongue <HI>reeld</HI> &s;o much, to &s;ay I had more intere&s;t in the Hou&s;e then he, which was too &s;oon di&s;|prov'd by his thru&s;ting me out of it. On that Morning prefixt for my departure, he brought into my Chamber the Hundred Pounds, left me by his Unkle, which being delivered me in a <HI>legall</HI> manner, he com|mends to my own <HI>Vain-glorious</HI> approbation, my <HI>Ingenious</HI> Countenance, <HI>Comly</HI> Per&s;on, and naturall wit: withall, told me my Scholler|&s;hip expre&s;t both <HI>co&s;tly</HI> breeding, and <HI>great</HI> Indu&s;try; therefore I was &s;trong enough to e|rect my own <HI>Fortunes:</HI> with a great deal of good Coun&s;ell, which I valew'd, as coming from one who&s;e <HI>Experience</HI> &s;eem'd younger then him&s;elf. There were few Tears &s;hed be|tween us at parting; neither did he be&s;tow a|ny thing on me more then what <HI>Cu&s;tom</HI> holds nece&s;&s;ary to maintain <HI>Complement,</HI> (a Cup of Beer) or <HI>Complement</HI> nece&s;&s;ary to maintain <HI>Friend&s;hip:</HI> A promi&s;e of welcome when I &s;hal call upon him riding that way. Well, hor&s;t I was, and well &s;tor'd with money, having
<PB N="19" REF="14">
be&s;ides my <HI>Portion,</HI> the worth of four&s;core Pounds in <HI>Jewels,</HI> which my <HI>wicked</HI> provi|dence (advantag'd by the Old Mans &s;ickne&s;s) pocketted up, to with&s;tand all <HI>unfortunate</HI> a&s;&s;aults. Thus the way enforcing my <HI>Steed</HI> and I, to take an <HI>unmannerly</HI> farewell (by ma|king our <HI>Ar&s;&s;es</HI> his oppo&s;ite <HI>Object</HI>) we rod towards <HI>London.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="4" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. IV.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM,</HI> riding towards <HI>London,</HI> is over|taken by a Citizen, who tells him a merry Story; be&s;ides, their di&s;cour&s;es, together with the fa&s;hion of their Ho&s;t in <HI>Mayden-head,</HI> is in this Chapter mo&s;t punctually related.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>IT was a fair Morning, the way fairer, which pleas'd both me, and my Hor&s;e. All my <HI>Care</HI> I ca&s;t into that Pocket which contain'd my: Money, as the <HI>naturalle&s;t</HI> Companion for it. My <HI>Thoughts</HI> &s;eem'd to <HI>me</HI> heavier then my <HI>&s;elf,</HI> but not to my <HI>Hor&s;e,</HI> becau&s;e I felt their burden; he <HI>mine.</HI> My conceit wander'd like a <HI>Northern-Shepheards</HI> Tongue, when (half drown'd in a We&s;&s;ail Bowl) he tells the Sto|ry
<PB N="20" REF="15">
of a Lad that went to &s;eek his Fortunes. Three hours before I came to <HI>Mayden-Head,</HI> I was overtaken by a <HI>London</HI> Citizen, who rode like an <HI>Admirer</HI> of the skill of <HI>Hor&s;man|&s;hip:</HI> or as if he were hearing a Story of one that kill'd him&s;elf by falling from his <HI>Saddle;</HI> with &s;uch a <HI>Complementall-fear</HI> did he <HI>embrace</HI> the Hor&s;es Neck: committing the protection of all his Limmes to &s;everal &s;upporters, but his <HI>Leggs</HI> wholly to his <HI>Stirrops. Well over|taken, Friend</HI> (quoth he); good High-way <HI>Rhe|torique!</HI> produc'd to maintain Cu&s;tom, but chiefly to expre&s;&s;e him &s;elf not bred, though born a <HI>Cockney;</HI> or not his Child, that being to journey forth in <HI>Rainy</HI> weather, told his Wife he had a trick to prevent all Clowdy incon|venience, by riding under the <HI>Pent-how&s;es,</HI> even from <HI>London</HI> to <HI>Cambridge.</HI> Some men doat &s;o much upon their <HI>expre&s;&s;ion,</HI> that, though want of reading bar them a tale per|tinent to the <HI>Matter, Time,</HI> and <HI>Place;</HI> yet will they <HI>piece</HI> di&s;cour&s;e with an old &s;tory: The remembrance of which his <HI>Grand-father</HI> re|cover'd by the <HI>Art</HI> of Memory; but he a&s;&s;ures it (by &s;ome hand&s;om oath) to be lately done; laying his <HI>Scene</HI> afar off, le&s;t he &s;hould be|tray him&s;elf, to an eminent di&s;proof. Ju&s;t &s;uch a one encounter'd with my conver&s;ati|on: who fed my Ears with relating, what I have here &s;et down.</P>
<P><PB N="21" REF="15">Two <HI>Kenti&s;h</HI> Gentlemen, Friends, and worthy of <HI>Fortunes</HI> envy, were both their ruines of her Conque&s;t; expre&s;t in their ex|&s;tream impoveri&s;hment: which forc'd <HI>Inven|tion</HI> to beget di&s;hone&s;t &s;hifts. So much doth <HI>Equivocating</HI> Nece&s;&s;ity <HI>ridle</HI> in her Actions; <HI>ba&s;ely</HI> preventing ba&s;e living: among&s;t the re&s;t, this one arrives to our knowledge.</P>
<P>A certain rich <HI>Creditor</HI> of theirs rode into <HI>Oxford-&s;hire,</HI> about a Purcha&s;e he had lately bought: The&s;e <HI>Gallants</HI> (hearing of it) plot|ted now to enrich them&s;elves by his return; at la&s;t agreed, that &s;ix of their Companions, &s;hould &s;et upon him on the high-way; di&s;&s;em|bling as if they entended not only to rob him of his Money, but al&s;o of his life: Whil&s;t they two (appearing to ride that way by chance) fight &s;toutly in his defence, and ob|tain the Victory, by putting the re&s;t to flight; not doubting, but this being carried too clo&s;e for his di&s;covery, might move him <HI>re|ally</HI> to con&s;ider their <HI>counterfeit</HI> kindne&s;&s;e, in a large requitall. He had no Kin&s;man on whom his love could be&s;tow the keeping of his Pur&s;e-&s;trings to a peculiar profit; which &s;trengthned their hopes. Having by a dili|gent enquirie got to know the time of his re|turn, they all attended him under a Hill; three Miles di&s;tant from Town or Village. One of the Six &s;erv'd as <HI>Scout,</HI> to prevent im|pediments,
<PB N="22" REF="16">
both by di&s;covering his coming, and the pa&s;&s;ing by of others. But the Coa&s;t was clear, and the <HI>Sun</HI> almo&s;t &s;et, when they behel'd their <HI>Creditor,</HI> walking down a Hill; &s;inging of <HI>P&s;almes,</HI> attended on only by wone Man, who &s;eem'd furni&s;h'd with two defen|&s;ive Weapons; an old ru&s;ty Sword, and a li|berall Hand: not to &s;trike, but to give away his Pur&s;e, which was his politique device, to prevent robbing. Well, if he had valour in him, he was affraid to &s;hew it: be&s;ides it dwelt at lea&s;t a furlong from his face; for the <HI>cowardly</HI> form of that could not but encou|rage an Enemy. The Six pre&s;ently (upon a watch-word) a&s;&s;ault them from behind a Hedge. <HI>Stand, deliver your Pur&s;e?</HI> are words of no force here: the Ma&s;ter being old, weak, and unable to <HI>&s;upport</HI> his fear, fell down to <HI>complement</HI> with their mercy. The Servant (being lightned by flinging them his Pur&s;e) ran away: but they (le&s;t he &s;hould have rais'd a <HI>hue-on-cry</HI>) brought him back again fa&s;t bound. Now pleads the old Man for his life, his <HI>Prodigall</HI> fear offering <HI>Emperors</HI> ran|&s;omes: whil&s;t they &s;eem to abandon all re|mor&s;e, crying <HI>blood, blood!</HI> the Villain will reveal us, the Villain will reveal us. He &s;wears by all oaths extant in his memory, he never will. But by this time his two <HI>Champi|ons</HI> &s;allied forth, &s;aying, what noi&s;e is that?
<PB N="23" REF="16">
keep the Kings peace ho! and calling him by his name, they cheere him up with comfor|table words, and counterfeit blows, which were received by the &s;uppo&s;ed Thieves, with as little hurt as <HI>Cowards</HI> could wi&s;h for. The old Man (doubtfull of the &s;ucce&s;&s;e) con&s;i|dering &s;uch an advantage on the adver&s;e parties &s;ide; &s;wore tho&s;e Six Gentlemen, to be his <HI>hone&s;t</HI> Friends, and what they did, was but in jea&s;t: thinking if the other two were overcome, this would &s;ave his life. But it was their Qu' now to fly, as vanqui&s;h'd by two oppo&s;ers, which they did with exqui&s;ite di&s;&s;imulation; carrying along with them Fiveteen Pounds. Our two Gallants are yet to receive the Fruit of their labours: The old Man having nought about him now to be&s;tow upon them, but thanks, which they <HI>&s;eem'd</HI> to receive in ample &s;atisfaction; He earne&s;tly enquires after his Man, whom they all <HI>&s;melt</HI> out pre&s;ently, by rea&s;on of an <HI>immode&s;t</HI> ex|pre&s;&s;ion of Fear: offen&s;ive to their No&s;es, and his own Breeches. It prov'd &s;omthing trou|ble&s;ome to unbind him, for every man im|ploy'd one of his Hands to &s;top his No&s;trills withall. At la&s;t (with much adoe) they all became Hor&s;emen again, and rode a pace to|wards the next Town: he being very de&s;i|rous to &s;end <HI>hu-on-cry</HI> after them for his Mo|ney, but by the force of premeditated rea|&s;ons,
<PB N="24" REF="17">
he was per&s;waded to the contrary They had &s;carce enter'd their <HI>Inne,</HI> but he relates unto a publique Auditory what hap|ned unto him, &s;till interpo&s;ing between his own danger, the Valour and kindne&s;&s;e of tho&s;e two Gentlemen, his <HI>Debtors.</HI> But they &s;trengthen their well compo&s;ed plot with re|porting that he mo&s;t ' valiantly behav'd him|&s;elf before they could come to his re&s;cue. <HI>Flatterie</HI> (that old &s;iin) agrees be&s;t with <HI>Age,</HI> where <HI>Folly</HI> is grown out of her own know|ledge, and oft mi&s;takes her &s;elf for <HI>Wi&s;dom:</HI> the implication of the word, being lo&s;t, when apply'd to Men of full de&s;ert. It is a <HI>poor</HI> beggerly vice, yet &s;till accompanies the rich. It is a Thiefe that &s;teals away the <HI>Heart</HI> through the <HI>Ear,</HI> and for that <HI>theft</HI> hangs on it like a <HI>Jewel</HI> ever after. It works the <HI>Soul</HI> from a <HI>compudent</HI> giving to a <HI>doating</HI> prodigality; and hath <HI>caught</HI> this man too: who though his knowledge <HI>blu&s;ht</HI> in what it knew, and gave the <HI>Lie</HI> to his own <HI>forc'd</HI> belief; yet did he hugg a &s;econd <HI>Youth</HI> within him, and talkt of what he could do, &s;etting a&s;ide great advantage: <HI>non Hercules contra duos.</HI> The next Morning they rode to his Hou&s;e; where <HI>thanks,</HI> and <HI>welcome</HI> did no more appear <HI>&s;hap't</HI> in words, but in little Baggs of Money, which were delivered with a courtlike entreaty of acceptance: he &s;triving to prove, there was no
<PB N="25" REF="17">
di&s;paragement in the receipt of them. Their old Bonds likewi&s;e he freely re&s;tor'd &s;aying, Since <HI>Fortune</HI> (who is <HI>blind</HI> to all mens de|&s;erts) could not &s;ee theirs, he was glad this occa&s;ion had given <HI>Eies</HI> to his Duty, that can direct him on whom he may &s;till be&s;tow, yet never impoveri&s;h him&s;elf. They had what they de&s;ir'd, and therefore pretended bu&s;ine&s;s which mu&s;t needs occa&s;ion their departure from him. His humour is &s;till con&s;tant to <HI>ex|tremitie</HI> in kindne&s;&s;e, and &s;taies them to Din|ner, where there was good <HI>Cheer</HI> and <HI>Mirth.</HI> But by and by one knocks at the Gate, who&s;e entrance being licenc'd, he ask'd for the Ma|&s;ter of the Hou&s;e; the Servants perceiv'd him to be drunk, therefore deny'd at fir&s;t their Ma&s;ter was at home: Well, anon the old Man ri&s;es from Dinner to know his bu&s;ine&s;&s;e. After a little complement between them, this drunken Gentleman di&s;covers him&s;elf to be one of tho&s;e Six men that robb'd him, and beggs his pardon for it, which being granted, he reveals' likewi&s;e the whole drift of tho&s;e two Champions, who are now his Gue&s;ts. <HI>Owles</HI> (as they were) to tru&s;t a &s;ecret in a <HI>Drunkards</HI> Brea&s;t, who&s;e love to the <HI>ta&s;t</HI> of Wine, &s;eats his <HI>Heart</HI> upon his <HI>Palat,</HI> which being &s;o near his Tongue, he cannot chu&s;e but &s;peak his <HI>Thoughts.</HI> He (poor man) was &s;truck with a <HI>fretfull</HI> admiration; yet thought
<PB N="26" REF="18">
it not a fit time to lowre now, being divers of his Friends were there at Dinner with them, who (unle&s;&s;e they could <HI>dige&s;t</HI> his Looks) would <HI>&s;tomach</HI> his Meat in a di&s;plea&s;ing Sen&s;e: therefore contriv'd a way to end all with merriment. Six of his Servants he com|manded to robb the two Gentlemen in his <HI>Parlour,</HI> of what he had be&s;tow'd upon them, counterfeiting likewi&s;e an intent to kil them: whil&s;t he, and his <HI>Shit-breech</HI> Man, &s;hould come in (as it were by chance) and &s;ave their Lives. This was acted to the life, whil&s;t my two Gallants, (being poopt of what they enjoy'd meerly to feel mi&s;ery in the lo&s;&s;e) departed the Hou&s;e, only furni&s;ht with his pardon.</P>
<P>Such Tales as the&s;e bani&s;ht tedious <HI>Time,</HI> and pen&s;ive con&s;ideration, till wee arriv'd at <HI>Mayden-head,</HI> Twenty two Miles di&s;tant from London; where was an <HI>Inne</HI> preferd to my acceptance by my <HI>Cyttizens</HI> commendations, who knew the Servants Names, as well as if he had binne their <HI>Godfather,</HI> though the How&s;e never ownde his company but one Night: men of his Coate de&s;iring much ac|quaintance, becau&s;e they will lo&s;e by none. The money which I had about me, I convayd under my Bed, and &s;o to &s;upper wee went. The How&s;e was full of Gue&s;ts, which made our Ho&s;t <HI>limit</HI> his Per&s;on, to a quarter of an
<PB N="27" REF="18">
Houers tariance with each company. Every Room did but borrow him of one another, which &s;hews (though no Mans Particular command had intere&s;t in his &s;ervice, yet (he had lea&s;t intere&s;t in him&s;elf. His Wife &s;up|plyd his ab&s;ence to all Companyes, for he could doe nothing el&s;e but talke to them, and her Tongue was heard every where. She it is, who&s;e Beauty clips the Wings of a Tra|vailers &s;wift de&s;ire, and begets the ea&s;e of his plodding Bea&s;t, for her How&s;e appears his Journeys end; but her Company <HI>multiplies</HI> the <HI>Reckoning</HI> above the reach of <HI>Arithme|tique.</HI> The <HI>Citti&s;en</HI> had the di&s;cour&s;e at Table, which con&s;i&s;ted (for the mo&s;t part) of the an|tiquitie of his <HI>Company:</HI> he being a woollen Draper. Sometimes he de&s;crib'd the humors of a decea&s;ed <HI>Round-Cap,</HI> his <HI>quondam</HI> Pa|ri&s;hioner; which were all ab&s;urd, and no|thing witty: yet he laught at them heartily, and I at him. All his owne proceedings (in Eight yeares Prenti&s;hip) he related to me. How long he bore the <HI>water-Tankard,</HI> &s;crapt Trenchers, and made cleane Shooes: di&s;|covering a &s;elfe-admiration, that &s;uch mean Offices could bring him to the height which now he lives at. Next he reported how many Servants he keeps; upon what conditions he hath bought the lea&s;e of his How&s;e: how long his father, and him&s;elfe have liv'd in that
<PB N="28" REF="19">
Pari&s;h, and what Offices they have under|gonne, with divers other things impertinent to any Mans knowledge: not omitting to reveale (in a grave manner) how unworthy he was to be Con&s;table, or <HI>Church-Warden,</HI> would willingly have fined for it, but the Pari&s;h (for&s;ooth) did more need his Advice, then Money. After Supper he expre&s;&s;'t his li|bertie (in being from home) with a <HI>di&s;tracted Mirth,</HI> as if he were &s;uddenly to recover &s;o much of his Heart blood, as he hath &s;igh'd away, when pennd within the Citty Walls, It is a certaine ob&s;ervation; They are the <HI>civile&s;t</HI> at <HI>home,</HI> and rude&s;t being abroad.</P>
<P>But now my Ho&s;t and his Wife came both up to <HI>stay</HI> and taulke with us. Surely he was the very <HI>Mayden head</HI> of his Mother, begot, his father being <HI>a&s;leep,</HI> or but Practicioner in that art, as apeard by the <HI>workman&s;hip</HI> of his face and Body, &s;o <HI>illfavour'd</HI> and <HI>de|form'd</HI> was he: Her &s;hape proclaimed Na|ture <HI>prodigal</HI> of her riches, and <HI>vain-glorious</HI> of her <HI>cunning,</HI> &s;o generally <HI>hand&s;om</HI> was &s;he; yet &s;eem'd to doate upon his feature, 'tis won|drous &s;trange, but Love is blind: which made my Mu&s;e (though dull'd with a gro&s;&s;e Sup|per) &s;ing thus;</P>
<LG>
<L>Let none hereafter dare to blame</L>
<L>The Gods, for making Cupid <HI>blind,</HI></L>
<L><PB N="29" REF="19">Le&s;t his offence be plagu'd with &s;hame,</L>
<L>And all Mens hate, be&s;eige his minde:</L>
<L>For by this Couple wee doe plainly proove,</L>
<L>That without <HI>blindne&s;&s;e;</HI> there could be no <HI>love&punc;</HI></L>
</LG>
<P>Short and &s;weet, quoth my <HI>Poeticall-Cit|ti&s;en,</HI> who beg'd them to &s;hew his Wives Brother: a Councellors Clerke, but an ex|cellent <HI>Poet</HI> beleeve it. Our Ho&s;te&s;&s;e fell fa&s;t a&s;leepe, as &s;he &s;at by the fire &s;ide: her Hu&s;|band wak'd her with &s;aying, &s;he was always &s;leeping, or talking. This &s;tird up a &s;trange frivolous que&s;tion: Why a Woman is more <HI>drow&s;ie,</HI> and <HI>talkative</HI> then a Man? I made an|&s;wer thus, Becau&s;e &s;he was made of <HI>Adam's</HI> fle&s;h when he was a&s;leepe; &s;econdly &s;he was made of his <HI>Rib,</HI> the <HI>Rib</HI> lies neere to the <HI>Heart,</HI> the <HI>Heart</HI> is May&s;ter of <HI>Thoughts,</HI> and <HI>thoughts</HI> beget words. This lik'd the Citti&s;en &s;o well, that he de&s;ir'd to be farder acquain|ted with me, as afterwards he was; though to his co&s;t; in what kind, thou &s;halt under&s;tand 'ere long: but now wee both went to Bed.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="5" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="30" REF="20">
<HEAD>CHAP. V:</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> per&s;everes in relating what befell him in the Inne, rides from thence to Lon|don, acquaints you with a Fea&s;t, worth the laughing at; treats of the <HI>Citty-Cries,</HI> and promi&s;eth graver &s;tuffe hereafter.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>Morpheus</HI> de&s;troy the&s;e vigilant Cariers, the&s;e unquiet di&s;turbers of re&s;t, that bawling (like <HI>Demy Cannons</HI>) rent the Por|ches of my Eares. Were my Eielids cut off, I could not be wider awake then I am now, though it be ju&s;t three a Clock: the purblind Night newly turn'd a <HI>Bawd</HI> to Letchery; the time when <HI>Spirits, Gho&s;ts,</HI> and <HI>Payries</HI> vi&s;it <HI>Toombs</HI> and <HI>Church-yards,</HI> who&s;e un&s;ub&s;tanti|all &s;hapes &s;teals away our motion, &s;care our Rea&s;on from us. Yet dur&s;t I goe rownd about the World, unarm'd, with <HI>Bedes,</HI> or ble&s;t with <HI>Crucifix:</HI> weare my Soul within my Scabbard, my Life ti'd to my Heel, as carele&s;&s;e of &s;ucce&s;&s;e: with &s;uch an <HI>angry val|lor,</HI> was I in&s;pir'd at that time, becau&s;e de|priv'd of &s;leepe. But by and by, the <HI>mode&s;t</HI> Morne <HI>blu&s;ht</HI> in the Ea&s;t: and the <HI>Sunne</HI> (to recompence tho&s;e <HI>Teares</HI> &s;hed by <HI>weeping</HI>
<PB N="31" REF="20">
Plants) &s;hew'd forth his Head: <HI>guilding</HI> the tops of lofty Trees, plac'd there by <HI>unequall</HI> Nature, to <HI>intercept</HI> that Comfort, which Shrubs lo&s;e by their <HI>low-humilitie.</HI> The <HI>ele|vated</HI> Larke leavs his dewy Bed to welcome him, and drops downe tir'de, by &s;triving to clime higher, then his Voyce. I bad farwell to &s;leepe, and call'd up the <HI>Chamberlaine,</HI> who brought me word the Cittizen (being very &s;ick) de&s;ir'd my company. To his Cham|ber I went, found him groaning in the Bed, encompa&s;t with Tokens of his Wives carefull Love; three <HI>Night-Caps,</HI> two <HI>Wa&s;te-Coates,</HI> a large <HI>Tiffany</HI> to keepe his Neck warme, two payre of <HI>Italian-Drawers,</HI> and a little <HI>Downe-Cu&s;heon:</HI> which being thru&s;t in|to his Codpi&s;&s;e, makes his Breech (for&s;ooth) un&s;en&s;ible of a hard <HI>Saddle,</HI> or a <HI>trotting</HI> Hor&s;e. His &s;ighs kindled pitty in the Ho&s;te&s;&s;e, who&s;e <HI>Experience</HI> was his <HI>Phy&s;itian,</HI> and brought him a <HI>Po&s;&s;et,</HI> cleerd with the juice of &s;undry Hearbs, which procurd him his health &s;ud|denly. So our <HI>Reckoning</HI> being pay'd we rod a mode&s;t pace towards <HI>Branford,</HI> from thence to <HI>London:</HI> where (after he had directed me to a hand&s;ome Lodging, and the place of his owne aboad) wee parted.</P>
<P>I had no friends in the Citty but my Gold, which I e&s;teem'd &s;o much, that I made it Bed-fellow to my Thoughts. Yet there
<PB N="32" REF="21">
was a Marchant who hath &s;worne heretofore he lov'd me, but how? as. Wi&s;e men love Mo|ney; for the u&s;e of it. Whil&s;t my Patron liv'd, I could have done him a courte&s;ie; but now the ca&s;e was alter'd, and therefore his friend&s;hip <HI>dead.</HI> Neither did the place ever harbor any acquaintance of mine, be&s;ides him, but only one Man (a <HI>Cambridge</HI> Scholler) whom envious Death tooke from me at <HI>Ti|burne;</HI> he was <HI>brought</HI> to that fatall end by a <HI>Cart,</HI> though indeed the main occa&s;ion was his unfortunate Lu&s;t. Let not the <HI>Reader,</HI> ac|cu&s;e me of tedious digre&s;&s;ion from our mat|ter, if I relate the manner of it.</P>
<P>His violent Love &s;ea&s;d upon the Beauty of an <HI>Inkeepers</HI> Daughter, who was thirty yeares old, and a Mayde: her Cha&s;titie being <HI>&s;tarv'd</HI> for want of <HI>naturall</HI> con&s;ideration: and her Fort vanqui&s;ht, by an <HI>unboned Member</HI> (the <HI>Tongue</HI>) for that, that is it, which charmes a Womans credulous minde to beleeve, what &s;he dares not <HI>feele,</HI> and feele becau&s;e tis more delightfull then to <HI>beleeve:</HI> let it &s;uffice, the Scholler often <HI>knew</HI> her in the <HI>He|brew</HI> phra&s;e. One Night among&s;t the re&s;t, &s;he (being enflam'd with a covetous love, futurly to owne his Per&s;on, and e&s;tate as a Wife) contriv'd a way how her father, and Mother might (as if by chance) come into the Chamber, and finde them in the mid&s;t of
<PB N="33" REF="21">
<HI>immode&s;t</HI> action, &s;o afterwards enforce him to marry her. She could not carry the plot &s;o clo&s;e, but he perceav'd, her knocking with a Bed&s;taffe, was <HI>Porter</HI> to their entrance. From out the Bed he leaps (untam'd with his a|morous combat) fa&s;tens on his good Sword, which bravely he advances in defiance. Her <HI>devided</HI> Spirits being &s;ent abroad, <HI>&s;everally</HI> to with&s;tand <HI>Feare,</HI> and <HI>Shame,</HI> &s;he creeps betweene the Sheets, and winks&punc; a true Coward! who&s;e &s;en&s;ele&s;&s;e imagination com|mits the protection of his whole Body to his Eie-lids, and bullwarks it with clo&s;ing them, as though he can <HI>feele</HI> nothing but what he <HI>&s;ees.</HI> The Mother (running forth to cry for helpe) is intercepted, by intercepting the Doore. The father &s;trives with a Ioynt &s;toole to beate him thence, which he by meere &s;trength tooke from him, but with loo&s;ing the forepart of his Shirt, the lo&s;&s;e of which got under his &s;ubjection the old Woman&punc; who blu&s;hing to behold his <HI>manhood,</HI> ranne (as frighted) behind the Bed, whil&s;t he <HI>im|mode&s;tly</HI> (though for <HI>mode&s;tys</HI> &s;ake) turn'd his Breech towards them, and &s;ought back|ward. The &s;cufle grew now hot, and lowde; therefore he (fearing it might wake the Ser|vants) &s;wore if he once more turn'd his face, he would kill them all, which made them quieter. His Doublet, and Stockings being
<PB N="34" REF="22">
neere&s;t his reach; were put on; in two How|ers &s;pace, not &s;ooner; becau&s;e his right Hand was wholly imploy'd to manage his Sword: lea&s;t the father (advantaged by any thing) might recover the Doore. The Mother came backwards to deliver him his Breeches, and &s;o by chance &s;tumbled over a Stoole; her Hu&s;|bands Eies look'd <HI>red</HI> as fire, &s;ome thought with anger, but &s;ure I think they <HI>blu&s;ht</HI> to behold that, which made him put out the Candle. The darke bred feare in all, but e&s;pecially in my <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="indecipherable" EXTENT="1 word"> Scholler, who hear|ing the Servants ray&s;'d by the Womans cry, and not able to find his Breeches, ranne downe the Stayres without them; then climes over the back Gate into a narrow Lane, where after he had awhile accompany'd the Northerne Winde, a Drunkard (pa&s;&s;ing that way) reel'd &s;ull upon him, and falling fell fa&s;t a&s;leepe upon the Ground, whil&s;t he de|priv'd him of his Breeches: but by rea&s;on of too much <HI>fearfull</HI> ha&s;te, and want of light, wore them, as he pul'd them off, with the Linings outward. O Wine! good for none but the fiery Zwitzer, who loves to have his face, richer then his Pur&s;e: thou that <HI>ridle&s;t</HI> in operation, and makes this Drunkard happy by depriving him of &s;en&s;e, for though his bare Breech ki&s;&s;'d the cold &s;tones, he &s;lept &s;owndly: whil&s;t our Scholler (walking
<PB N="35" REF="22">
through the neighbour Street) is taken by a Watch. The parlous Con&s;table (&s;pying how unhan&s;om he was dre&s;t) &s;u&s;pected him guil|ty of &s;ome bawdy bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, and laughing &s;ufficiently at him, &s;ent him to the <HI>Counter.</HI> But one &s;orrow treads upon the Heel of a|nother (&s;o &s;wift are they in pur&s;uit, when once running to us) the way to the <HI>Counter</HI> is through that Lane where the Drunkard was, who by this time had recovered his &s;en&s;es, and walk'd &s;hivering up and down, in &s;earch of his Breeches. The <HI>Watch-men</HI> &s;pying his white Shirt) &s;tood &s;till, &s;uppo&s;ing him to be a <HI>Gho&s;t.</HI> The Scholler perceiv'd his theft would be di&s;cover'd; yet was loath to run away, be|cau&s;e loath to be taken by another Watch&punc; he lik'd this &s;o ill. One of his Guardians (be|ing fortify'd with an old charm) marches cro&s;&s;e-legg'd, &s;pitting three times <HI>Ea&s;t-South-We&s;t:</HI> and afterwards prefers his vallor to a <HI>Catechi&s;ing</HI> office. In the name of God (quoth he) what art thou? whence do&s;t thou come? what make&s;t thou here? he an&s;wered, he was not him&s;elf half an Hour ago, but now he is a Man as others are; of Gods making; only &s;ome Villain had &s;toln away his Breeches. My acquaintance was found to be that Vil|lain; his <HI>Buttock's</HI> once more di&s;rob'd, his <HI>&s;ecret</HI> parts too apparantly <HI>di&s;cover'd:</HI> And in that
<PB N="36" REF="23">
manner both were carried to the <HI>Counter.</HI></P>
<P>But now let us return to what occa&s;ion'd the relation of this <HI>Ie&s;t.</HI> After he was delive|red thence, upon promi&s;e to marry his Whore, he met her Father riding towards <HI>Wind&s;or:</HI> and being enflam'd with the remem|brance of this di&s;grace, kill'd him upon the High-way, for which fact, <HI>Tiburn</HI> depriv'd me of him.</P>
<P>Thus de&s;titute of any Friend, to whom I might commit the keeping of my Money, I bought me a &s;trong <HI>Trunk,</HI> and therein en|clos'd it. My Lodging was in <HI>Chancery-Lane,</HI> my <HI>Land-Lord,</HI> an old Atturney, who by fre|quent walking to and fro, about Law-bu&s;i|ne&s;&s;e, knew the form of every Stone, which pav'd the Ground, between that place, and <HI>we&s;tmin&s;ter-Hall.</HI> I ob&s;erv'd nothing that Day worth relation, unle&s;&s;e it were the <HI>City-Cries:</HI> I mean, how every one hath got a differing <HI>pronunciation,</HI> from <HI>intelligible</HI> Engli&s;h. Either they have worn out the parts, wherein tho&s;e Syllables are particularly moulded, by a con|tinual u&s;age (con&s;idering they &s;peak in any other kind plain enough) or el&s;e many of their words, (progre&s;&s;ing through their No|&s;es) are drown'd in that flood which <HI>cold</HI> pur|ges from the <HI>Brain.</HI> I ask'd an <HI>Oy&s;ter-Wench</HI> once, what it was &s;he cry'd? She bad me look into her Basket. Why (quoth I) can I &s;ind
<PB N="37" REF="23">
your words there? Yes, &s;he an&s;wer'd, <HI>really &s;hap'd</HI> too: Did not our Ware &s;peak for them|&s;elves, little would be gotten by them; for we cannot foyl them off with trim Language, which my Ears witne&s;&s;ing, I mu&s;t needs be|lieve. But leave we the&s;e Jea&s;ts, the&s;e &s;uper|ficiall expre&s;&s;ions of a full Brain. A <HI>Comick-Fancy</HI> wrin&s;t in &s;parkling Claret, orwrapt in the Leaves of <HI>April</HI> Violets, could not wan|der in alacrative Sence, more then I do now. I tell thee Render, I will be grave, I vow I will: and &s;hortly write things worthy thy &s;erious ob&s;ervation. In the mean time let me commend to thy reading, this <HI>Dream;</HI> born the fir&s;t Night I lay in <HI>London.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="6" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="38" REF="24">
<HEAD>CHAP. VI.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> mo&s;t wittily reveales his admirable <HI>Dream,</HI> turnes Satyri&s;t, and omits not the relation of tho&s;e rea&s;on which in|induc'd him to it.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<DIV3 TYPE="description">
<HEAD>The De&s;cription of a <HI>Grove</HI></HEAD>
<P>MY &s;leepy imagination carried me into a melancholy Grove, who&s;e <HI>courteous</HI> Trees by <HI>embracing</HI> one another, impri&s;on'd the We&s;tern Wind&punc; whil&s;t the &s;weetne&s;&s;e of the place made it in love with bondages for pa&s;&s;ing through tho&s;e Boughs, adorn'd with clo&s;e <HI>whi&s;pering</HI> Leaves, it &s;igh'd at liberty. The Birds (<HI>cag'd</HI> in Thickets) &s;ung &s;adly. The <HI>mourn&s;ul</HI> Gra&s;s alwaies <HI>wept</HI> for the ab|&s;ence of the <HI>Sun,</HI> and with a <HI>morallizing</HI> Countenance, &s;eem'd to exclaim again&s;t tho&s;e tall-Trees; which like great ones in a Com|mon-wealth, deprive the le&s;&s;e of comfort by <HI>combining</HI> in their mi&s;chief. In this Grove I met an aged <HI>Pilgrim,</HI> who&s;e body being tir'd with <HI>Holy jaunts,</HI> his <HI>wandring-zeal</HI> tam'd with a <HI>&s;uper&s;titious</HI> Lamene&s;&s;e; liv'd there, <HI>impounded</HI> in a narrow Circuit. His lookes were as <HI>&s;erious</HI> as his talke; his Beard knew little of the <HI>Barbers</HI> skill, but grew like his
<PB N="39" REF="24">
<HI>Experience,</HI> me thought <HI>longer</HI> then his <HI>Age&punc;</HI> Hee brought me to a Cave, who&s;e &s;wee Mouth <HI>water'd</HI> at a Cry&s;tal <HI>Spring,</HI> which ran clo&s;e by it: and call'd to us from thence, one who&s;e Tongue <HI>&s;poke</HI> him a <HI>Scholar&punc;</HI> His Garments &s;eem'd only <HI>fa&s;hionable,</HI> in be|ing quite <HI>out</HI> of <HI>Fa&s;hion.</HI> His Armes, and Thighs were folded in the Leafs of old <HI>Ma|nu&s;cripts:</HI> a parlous <HI>nece&s;&s;ary</HI> (though cold hu|mor in him) to di&s;&s;wade nakedne&s;&s;e from be|ing &s;en&s;ible of the <HI>Northern</HI> Wind. After ma|ny denotations of a troubled Spirit, he <HI>charm'd</HI> attention with this Speech.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 TYPE="speech">
<HEAD>The <HI>Scholers</HI> Speech.</HEAD>
<P>Farewel <HI>Philo&s;ophy;</HI> and that <HI>prying</HI> know|ledge, which, di&s;covering <HI>Natures</HI> &s;ecrets, makes a <HI>mode&s;t</HI> apprehen&s;ion blu&s;h, wraps wonder it &s;elf in a &s;trong amazement, and &s;ooths the <HI>Athie&s;t</HI> in his damn'd belief; who termes the <HI>Souls Immortality</HI> a Childi&s;h &s;uper|&s;tition, and forg'd by politique <HI>States-men,</HI> to &s;uppre&s;&s;e <HI>Vice</HI> in the Common-wealth, which otherwaies would ruine <HI>Government.</HI> Fare|well <HI>A&s;tronomy;</HI> an Art that be&s;t becomes the labour of a School-Boys weak Capacity: for e|very Fool can find his <HI>fatal-Star</HI> without a <HI>Per&s;pective,</HI> and feel it, though fixt a Thou&s;and Leagues above his reach. Or what is he that only looking on a <HI>Comet,</HI> cannot prophe&s;ie
<PB N="40" REF="25">
a <HI>Ruine?</HI> &s;ince his own <HI>Guilt</HI> doth prompt him. Farewell <HI>Phy&s;ick;</HI> thou that circumvent|e&s;t <HI>Death,</HI> and with comfortable Herbes pre|vent&s;t <HI>Autumn</HI> in Man, by a perpetual <HI>Spring.</HI> Farewel that <HI>thriving</HI> Spirit; which with the heig it of Knowledge makes <HI>Experience</HI> &s;eem an A&s;&s;e; <HI>deep</HI> Policy, &s;hallow Surmi&s;es: Farewel <HI>Rhetorique;</HI> and that <HI>&s;mooth</HI> phra&s;e which makes the <HI>Courtier</HI> appear a di&s;guis'd <HI>Saint,</HI> which <HI>&s;crews</HI> up <HI>Fancy</HI> to a belief re|pugnant unto Sen&s;e, and works the &s;illy, <HI>Au|ditor</HI> to delight in his own undoing. Farewel <HI>Poetry;</HI> thou <HI>trim Compo&s;er</HI> of <HI>di&s;juncted</HI> Sen&s;e; thou that with <HI>hand&s;om Ornament</HI> do&s;t cloath a Lie in a <HI>true</HI> &s;hape: Thou that ravi&s;he&s;t the <HI>Mechanicks</HI> mind, to his delight, not torture; for though a dull apprehen&s;ion bar at fir&s;t thy plea&s;ing entrance, yet he loves thee for it ever after. Farewel that &s;weet in&s;pir'd rap|&s;ody which cue's fluent expre&s;&s;ion into per|fect &s;en&s;e: which in de&s;criptions <HI>really</HI> de|&s;cribes, <HI>corrects</HI> Nature, and makes it &s;eem more <HI>natural.</HI> O farewell for thy Lawrel on|ly flouri&s;heth on the <HI>dry</HI> Heads of tho&s;e, who can but lamely imitate, and withers on <HI>moi&s;t</HI> diviner Browes. Farewel in general the Scho|lers trade, &s;ince what to others is a <HI>comfort,</HI> is to him a <HI>orment;</HI> for he is tir'de with <HI>Hope,</HI> and tam'd by <HI>Ignorance: Ignorance!</HI> She that is only fortunate in ambition, yet fix'd on
<PB N="41" REF="25">
high, e&s;teemed le&s;&s;e in the Eies of tho&s;e, that with admiration gaze below.</P>
<P>Here the <HI>Pilgrim</HI> (being loth to let his <HI>&s;ick, overworn</HI> patience, &s;erve as bridle to his Tongue) commands a &s;ilence, which he o|bay'd by &s;treight returning into the Cave. O how he weigh'd each word to the very <HI>poy&s;e</HI> of Accenting. <HI>Cicero</HI> either <HI>whip</HI> thy <HI>Tongue,</HI> or hereafter let thy Gho&s;t be <HI>deaf</HI> to thy di&s;|paragement. Had my Ears been long enough to have reach'd him in the Cave, I had kill'd the <HI>Proverb</HI> in <HI>contradiction,</HI> grac'd what an <HI>A&s;&s;e</HI> wears to the contempt of all, and made his name worthy any Mans acceptance.</P>
<P><HI>The</HI> Souldiers <HI>Speech after this his de&s;cription.</HI></P>
<P>Soon after him bu&s;&s;els forth the <HI>ruines</HI> of a lu&s;ty Man: one that &s;trove to <HI>tire</HI> Misfor|tune with a <HI>counterfeit comtempt</HI> of it, little ble&s;t with outward Habiliments; for his <HI>ambitious</HI> Stockins did <HI>di&s;locate</HI> his Doublet, and &s;erv'd in&s;tead of Sleeves: whil&s;t the El|bows made <HI>Ca&s;ements</HI> of nece&s;&s;ity and peep'd out. Scarce had he any one Limb &s;ufficiently cloathed to keep <HI>warm</HI> the Spectators Eies. His Skin was <HI>pinckt</HI> quite over with thru&s;ts, <HI>fearfully &s;toln</HI> by the Rapiers point of &s;ome op|po&s;ing <HI>Coward.</HI> His Face (<HI>carv</HI>'d by the <HI>pat|tern</HI> of his mind) was rough, and &s;eem'd &s;e|condly begot by the <HI>careful gain</HI> of a bungling
<PB N="42" REF="26">
Surgeon. The carriage of his Body expre&s;t him a <HI>Travailer,</HI> as if he had got the <HI>theorique</HI> of all Country po&s;tures, and lo&s;t the <HI>practique</HI> of his owne. He &s;poke as if his Tongue (late|ly come from farr) had brought good utter|ance home, for the&s;e were his words.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 TYPE="speech">
<HEAD>His Speech.</HEAD>
<P>Farewell <HI>lu&s;tly-Warr!</HI> thou that with <HI>bloody</HI> Ju&s;tice, do&s;t bravely arbitrate, 'tween <HI>Prin|ces</HI> rights, and <HI>Souldiers</HI> Valors: farewell <HI>un|bullwark'd Re&s;olution!</HI> thou carele&s;&s;e <HI>Sparke,</HI> who&s;e father was a <HI>Roman:</HI> thou that exalts each Nerve to an <HI>ambitious hight,</HI> lifting the Body up to <HI>over-reach</HI> Danger: farewell that <HI>bewitching Winter</HI> which the &s;prightfull <HI>Drum,</HI> tunnells through our Eares into our fle&s;h, when our Bloods <HI>freeze,</HI> and our Gorges heave at <HI>Peace,</HI> when wee e&s;teeme Life be|low e&s;teeme, when the <HI>longe</HI> Pike (that barrs <HI>clo&s;ing</HI> with the Enemy) &s;eems an <HI>impediment</HI> to true Valor, and the Sword, within the Scabbard, looks like Glory hid. farwell the lowde <HI>Trumpet</HI> with who&s;e <HI>voyce,</HI> rewording Ecchoes <HI>&s;colde,</HI> who&s;e cheerfull harmony makes the <HI>wanton</HI> Heart <HI>dance</HI> in a Brea&s;t be|&s;iedg'd with Swords: farvvell the &s;hrill Fiffe, vvhich drovvnds in the Covvards Eare Terror, compo&s;'d of dying Groanes, and hi|deous &s;hreeks: farwell the <HI>glorious</HI> Troope of
<PB N="43" REF="26">
<HI>comely</HI> Hor&s;e! in whom <HI>Pride</HI> (as fitting none but Bea&s;ts) &s;its hand&s;omer then in the Riders lookes farwell the bawling <HI>Cannon</HI> (Deaths bloody <HI>Executioner</HI>) from who&s;e wide mouth <HI>De&s;truction</HI> (roundly &s;hap'd) wraps it &s;elfe in a Ca&s;e of di&s;turbed Ayre, di&s;members lofty Steeples, pats away a&s;piring <HI>Pinnacles,</HI> and &s;teales at once a whole Ranke of Mortals: far|well <HI>learned</HI> Strategems! deepe Circumven|tion! <HI>whol&s;ome</HI> Pollicy! and &s;ound compo|&s;ing of <HI>dangerous-Inductions:</HI> farwell <HI>Death!</HI> thou that beget&s;t the Souldiers <HI>life;</HI> who on|ly breaths in <HI>honor:</HI> farwell <HI>life!</HI> thou that beget&s;t the Souldiers Death: who now lives <HI>&s;moother'd</HI> in <HI>di&s;grace.</HI></P>
<P>After he had thus talk'd awhile (<HI>bodying</HI> each word with active <HI>empha&s;is</HI>) he return'd al&s;o into the Cave, being indeed interrupted by the ha&s;ty pre&s;ence of one, who&s;e griefe bru&s;t from forth his Eies, becau&s;e &s;o long barr'd of pa&s;&s;age through his mouth. He was of per&s;on well &s;hap'd, and proper&punc; re&s;embl|ing the <HI>decay'd</HI> remnant of a noble Stock. His Countenance (&s;omewhat wither'd with in|fectious Griefe) cau&s;'d him to looke like the very <HI>contempt</HI> of <HI>Happine&s;&s;e:</HI> as if he out-liv'd his owne de&s;ire, was made an <HI>experiment</HI> by his cruell <HI>Pate,</HI> to try within a Haires breadth the &s;ufferance of a Man: or had binne wrack'd to confe&s;&s;e the &s;trength of Mi&s;ery,
<PB REF="27">
and now warranted by <HI>Experience,</HI> what be|fore he did deny in happy <HI>Ignorance.</HI> He wore his Apparell (as he wore his Life) quite out of Fa&s;hion, and took his farwell thus.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 TYPE="speech">
<HEAD>The speech, of a decayed Gentleman.</HEAD>
<P>Farwell all tho&s;e <HI>nice</HI> points of <HI>Honour,</HI> which in the ob&s;erving makes <HI>Reputation</HI> but a <HI>Trouble:</HI> farwell that haereditary re&s;pect, borrow'd from the merits of our Ance&s;ters: by which wee <HI>enrich</HI> their fame, and <HI>impove|ri&s;h</HI> our owne: farwell <HI>Gratitude,</HI> thou <HI>core</HI> of a noble Heart, that by <HI>Requitall</HI> makes thy &s;elfe a <HI>Beggar:</HI> that &s;knor&s;t to poy&s;e thy thanks with the &s;ucce&s;&s;e of a free Guift, but with the <HI>kind-di&s;po&s;ition</HI> of the Giver: farwell <HI>Temperance!</HI> thou phy&s;icall pre&s;erver of <HI>natu|rall</HI> ble&s;&s;ings, thou <HI>&s;trengthner</HI> of tho&s;e <HI>in|&s;tinctive-faculties,</HI> which belong to each par|ticular <HI>Sen&s;e:</HI> thou that can&s;t be&s;t (with <HI>pal|pable</HI> demon&s;trations) di&s;tingui&s;h <HI>Men</HI> from <HI>Bea&s;ts:</HI> farwell <HI>Ho&s;pitalitie:</HI> thou <HI>thrifty</HI> Pro|digall, and <HI>ancient&s;t</HI> Herauld to proclaime us <HI>Gentlemen:</HI> farwell that hand&s;ome, decent <HI>Courte&s;ie,</HI> which makes the Vulgar <HI>prowde</HI> of having Lives, for our commands to <HI>tread</HI> up|on: farwell <HI>Decorum;</HI> and that &s;weet preme|ditating judgment, which crownes <HI>Action</HI> with a ble&s;t <HI>conclu&s;ion:</HI> farwell <HI>Friend&s;hip!</HI> thou <HI>covetous</HI> engro&s;&s;er of all Earthly Com|forts!
<PB N="45" REF="27">
thou that (with <HI>hone&s;t</HI> equivocation) includ'&s;t two Men in one, <HI>tiing</HI> together their very heart &s;trings in a <HI>true love knot:</HI> tempering their minds, as if they had mould|ed one another, in their wi&s;hes. Their winged indu&s;try (begot by mutnall exchange of care) makes the conclu&s;ion of a weighty bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, come to <HI>prevent</HI> expectacie: is ne|ver tir'd, but &s;tak'd in officious motion, and con&s;tant to variety of comforts, O! Farewell, Farewell <HI>Patience:</HI> that Ro&s;e-lipp'd <HI>Cheru|bine,</HI> who heretofore was beautious, as the <HI>Infant morne</HI> in the Ea&s;t, when <HI>Sol</HI> doth paint her; but now &s;he is ugly, old, and Hag|like withered, for unnaturall wrongs have &s;o infected her.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 TYPE="description">
<HEAD>The de&s;cription of a for&s;aken Virgin.</HEAD>
<P>Here concluding with a &s;igh, he returnes al&s;o from whence he came, leaving his roome &s;upply'd by a creature purpo&s;ely made to plea&s;e curio&s;ity in a <HI>detracting</HI> lovers Eie. I tell thee Reader &s;he was the <HI>pretie&s;t little Thiefe,</HI> that ever wanton Imagination hugg'd to defile; &s;o farre above de&s;cription, that if I dur&s;t attempt it, I &s;hould leave (unreach'd) ju&s;t &s;o much Argument, as might &s;erve <HI>Marots</HI> Mu&s;e to compo&s;e a fit <HI>Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e,</HI> for his <HI>Hu&s;band.</HI> Griefe in her &s;eem'd a hand&s;ome <HI>Pe&s;&s;ion;</HI> nothing did ill become her but her
<PB N="46" REF="28">
<HI>Fortune,&punc;</HI> I cannot &s;ay the Garments which &s;he wore were coor&s;e and <HI>ba&s;e,</HI> becau&s;e her beauty needed no <HI>ba&s;ene&s;&s;e</HI> to foyle it off: nei|ther is it po&s;&s;ible <HI>Fate</HI> could be &s;o hard-hear|ted, as to apparell her in want: No? that were a thought mo&s;t lame in rea&s;on: for though her Gowne was made of <HI>home-&s;pun &s;tuffe,</HI> I am &s;ure &s;he wore <HI>Golden Hayre</HI> &amp; wept <HI>Pearles:</HI> how! did &s;he <HI>weepe?</HI> I mu&s;t not &s;ay &s;o, le&s;t thou <HI>weepe</HI> to think on it, but never &s;o <HI>hand&s;omely</HI> as &s;he did. If the <HI>grey</HI> Hypo|crite (who&s;e yeares &s;peaks him <HI>olde,</HI> and <HI>ex|act</HI> in a <HI>di&s;gui&s;'d</HI> behaviour) had but lookt on her, he would have &s;worne the <HI>Politician</HI> &s;tudies only to <HI>undermine</HI> him&s;elfe: for <HI>naked-Innocence</HI> grew on her face in &s;uch a <HI>plea&s;ing</HI> &s;hape, that Sinners (who before were mari|ed to their Guilt) plead repentance, and proffer love to it. She never knew Man, with a knowledge more <HI>di&s;hone&s;t</HI> then what har|bours in her Eies, only by &s;ight: yet &s;ome <HI>Arch-Rogue,</HI> &s;ome <HI>damn'd</HI> Lover, (choak'd with too much happine&s;&s;e) hath done her wrong: who&s;e <HI>errand</HI> now &s;he will deliver to the World, I mary will &s;he, and that &s;owndly too. <HI>Sorrow</HI> 'ere while &s;at on her Tongue, like <HI>bad expre&s;&s;ion,</HI> and her Words were <HI>quarter'd</HI> in the utterance: but now &s;he'le brooke no more, her <HI>Tipett is unpin'd</HI> &s;tands up (like a <HI>Beacon</HI>) to foretell a <HI>Warr</HI> of
<PB N="47" REF="28">
<HI>words,</HI> &s;he mu&s;t <HI>&s;colde,</HI> which &s;he did thus; but other ways then thus &s;he could not &s;colde.</P>
</DIV3>
<DIV3 TYPE="speech">
<HEAD>Her Speech.</HEAD>
<P>Farwell the <HI>Uirgins</HI> peace, <HI>true Content;</HI> and all tho&s;e ravi&s;hing effects which harm|le&s;&s;e thoughts beget: when our dull Spirits are tickled with a <HI>frozen</HI> Joy: when the fla&s;h of <HI>Lightning</HI> cannot <HI>&s;indge</HI> our Souls: nor the noy&s;e of Thunder fix us to a <HI>fearfull-ad|miration,</HI> ay me farwell. And farwell <HI>Love!</HI> thou unnaturall Thiefe, that requit'&s;t ob&s;e|quious pa&s;&s;ion, with &s;tealing the motives of tho&s;e comforts: <HI>O hatefull</HI> Love! improper word, that do&s;t imply a double &s;en&s;e, the good to &s;hadow 'ore the bad: thou that <HI>toyl&s;t</HI> only to be <HI>weary,</HI> and con&s;um'&s;t more content, than eminent hopes can give &s;atisfaction for. Farwell <HI>Faith</HI> in men! who never had any <HI>&s;trong</HI> enough, to keep unbroken their <HI>weake</HI> words: &s;ubtile, wicked Men, who <HI>di&s;|gui&s;ing</HI> fal&s;hood in <HI>big</HI> Oaths, &s;ooth our <HI>fond</HI> credulitie, to a <HI>pittifull</HI> con&s;ent. Such a one rob'd me of my Heart, and return'd it to make my Guilt exceed his: for no offence de&s;erves puni&s;hment &s;o much, as to <HI>receave,</HI> or <HI>live by,</HI> what was &s;tolne. His name beares &s;uch a <HI>&s;ympathy</HI> with Sorrow, that falling from my Lips, my Teares would <HI>drowne</HI> it&punc; farwell my well tun'd Voyce! which made
<PB N="48" REF="29">
my Tongue a <HI>Pillory;</HI> for more Eares were <HI>naild to it,</HI> then offences could <HI>condemne:</HI> which Made the <HI>Nightingall</HI> blu&s;h when we have &s;ung together; for Men would tell her! &s;he <HI>had lo&s;t her Mayden-head:</HI> farwell my <HI>Lute,</HI> who&s;e &s;trings are now as dumb as <HI>Silence,</HI> and &s;hall never more be pegd to rob the Auditor of wonder: farwell all happine&s;&s;e, for the <HI>Time</HI> now, is maried to my <HI>Fortune,</HI> and begets more woes, then my poore <HI>e&s;tate</HI> of <HI>Patience</HI> is able to <HI>maintain.</HI></P>
<P>Her la&s;t vvord lo&s;t half its accent, &s;he be|ing interrupted by a little <HI>Dove,</HI> who with an accu&s;tom'd <HI>tripping</HI> familiarity, allur'd her harmle&s;&s;e <HI>Fancy</HI> to go a&s;ide, and &s;port vvith it: So <HI>light</HI> in alteration is <HI>leaden</HI> Sorrow, when dvvelling in a Heart not guilty of its Birth. Though the <HI>Pilgrims</HI> hot de&s;ires vvere mortified by Age; and his couragious Blood tam'd by a re&s;erv'd diet; yet he &s;eem'd to be|moan her vvith an <HI>amorous</HI> Pitty: vvas about particularly to acquaint me vvith the rank, and conditions of all his Captives, likevvi&s;e hovv they came thither: But I vvaking, de|priv'd him of further labour, my &s;elf of trouble.</P>
<P>This <HI>Dream</HI> needed no help from <HI>Aegypt</HI> to expound it, for the <HI>Time</HI> (vvith <HI>reall</HI> ex|amples) &s;erv'd as <HI>Interpreter.</HI> My Brains and Heart met in con&s;ultation a vvhole Week
<PB N="49" REF="29">
before they could advi&s;e me vvhat cour&s;e of life to take: at la&s;t I re&s;olved to turn <HI>Satyri&s;t:</HI> being induc'd to that holy calling by the&s;e four rea&s;ons. The fir&s;t was, a Divine in|&s;piration, which my <HI>Young turbulent</HI> zeal ex|tracted from the <HI>Dream.</HI> Secondly, becau&s;e the State at that time felt alteration; and di|vers great ones (plac'd before as <HI>high</HI> as For|tune her &s;elf could <HI>reach</HI>) &s;ate then on her foot-&s;tool, <HI>humbled</HI> below <HI>vulgar</HI> re&s;pect. Thirdly, I being yet to choo&s;e acquaintance, &s;trove rather to have my wit prefer me to the better &s;ort at fir&s;t, than that nece&s;&s;ity &s;hould furni&s;h me with &s;uch, whom after|wards I would &s;corn to acknowledge; the World alwaies cen&s;uring a Man by the fa&s;hion and demeanor of his Companions. Fourthly, my Pur&s;e was then &s;ufficiently &s;tor'd with Money: an Argument that might ea&s;ily per&s;wade the World, I wrote to de|fend <HI>Vertue,</HI> not my own <HI>Poverty:</HI> As for tho&s;e qualities which compo&s;e a perfect <HI>Sa|tyri&s;t,</HI> I had enough to proclaim <HI>Nature</HI> Pro|digal, and <HI>Art</HI> is &s;oon attain'd by indu&s;try. I travell'd far in Hi&s;tory, and knew the World by report, as well as if my <HI>pains</HI> had been a Tutor to my <HI>Knowledge.</HI> How I proceeded af|terwards, thou mai&s;t partly under&s;tand by reading the next Chapter.</P>
</DIV3>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="7" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="50" REF="30">
<HEAD>CHAP. VII:</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> being drunk, goes to hire a Ser|vant in <HI>Paul's,</HI> and after a &s;ober de&s;crip|tion of the Church, and Walkers, recounts how &s;trangely he was &s;upply'd with one.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>COn&s;ideration had &s;o much dull'd my Spirits, and black'd my Blood, that I re|&s;olved one Morning to drown it in a Cup of <HI>Sack.</HI> To the <HI>Tavern</HI> I went, but being incre|dulous of tho&s;e commendations which the Drawer <HI>&s;old</HI> with his Wine, and <HI>covetous</HI> to arbitrate judiciou&s;ly; I <HI>ta&s;ted</HI> it with my <HI>Brains:</HI> For though it be more natural, the Palat &s;hould give judgement in this kind&punc; yet their verdict is prefer'd in Capital con|trover&s;ies, and therefore &s;et &s;o <HI>light</HI> by this when I &s;ay <HI>light,</HI> you may take it in a con|trary &s;en&s;e, as if my Leggs were unable to &s;upport my <HI>weight;</HI> Unable to &s;upport my <HI>weight?</HI> Very well Goodman <HI>Nim!</HI> Goodman <HI>Fop!</HI> Goodman <HI>Doggs-No&s;e!</HI> now my <HI>&s;neak+ing</HI> mode&s;ty <HI>creeps</HI> from the matter, and <HI>min+ces</HI> it with ambiguous phra&s;e? Is it not time to leave this? ha? well, how&s;oever Reader do thou &s;uppo&s;e I was <HI>drunk,</HI> &s;tarke drunk
<PB N="51" REF="30">
but not with Wine? rather with Liquor di|&s;till'd from a Womans Brains, and mingled with juice, &s;quee&s;'d from a melancholy Heart; for &s;o <HI>variable,</HI> and <HI>unproportion'd</HI> were my humours. To beat the Drawer, cut off the Heels from my &s;hoo's, were only <HI>Pecca|dilloes</HI> (as the <HI>Italian</HI> &s;aies) <HI>Pigmy</HI>-faults: but I for&s;ooth (di&s;ta&s;ting the Hou&s;e atten|dance) mu&s;t in all po&s;t ha&s;t go hire a Servant; a Fellow of &s;ome Soul! who&s;e &s;ervice mu&s;t not meerly con&s;i&s;t in the &s;trength of his Lims, but in the apprehen&s;ive quality of his Brains. Where to get &s;uch a one &s;uddenly, I could not tell, unle&s;&s;e in <HI>Paul's?</HI> which Church ea|&s;ily to pa&s;&s;e over is impo&s;&s;ible, 'tis &s;o high: therefore &s;omthing we will &s;ay of it. Only let us refrain to expre&s;&s;e with a <HI>pittifull-de|&s;cription</HI> the ruines of <HI>Time,</HI> becau&s;e for the mo&s;t part they are plac'd above our reach: even on the top of the <HI>Steeple.</HI> St. <HI>Gregories</HI> be|ing compar'd to it, looks like a Church, who&s;e charge of building was at the benevo|lence of a poor <HI>U&s;urer;</HI> or dedicated to &s;ome unde&s;erving <HI>Saint,</HI> who meant to &s;hew his <HI>humility</HI> in the acceptance. The u&s;e of tho&s;e <HI>Walks</HI> within, I do more pitty, then admire their &s;pacious &s;tate: For would&s;t thou know where the young <HI>Wards</HI> undoing is contriv'd? go thither, thou &s;halt perceive his <HI>Guardian</HI> newly enter'd, puffing with ha&s;te, and &s;weat|ing
<PB N="52" REF="31">
by an unaccu&s;tomd labour he hath taken, to be there half an hour before his politique Companions: a &s;pace &s;iz'd out to advantage his old judgement, to prevent with <HI>premedi|tation</HI> all <HI>countermines:</HI> His Con&s;cience pre|&s;enting to his guilty fear a puni&s;hment, be|fore the Sin be quite committed. Would&s;t thou know where the <HI>U&s;urer,</HI> and his <HI>Scrive|ner</HI> con&s;ult to cheat the young <HI>Heir</HI> of Mor|gag'd Land? Why there too: and are as ea|&s;ily di&s;tingui&s;ht from other Men by their walking, as from one another by their Gar|ments. The <HI>U&s;urer</HI> (hating the charge of a fa&s;hionable Hat, or all <HI>Uo&s;tly</HI> care to pre&s;erve his <HI>wither'd</HI> Beauty) wears his high-Crownd, according to the old <HI>ambitious</HI> form: with narrow Brims, le&s;t it might bar his <HI>covetous</HI> Face, the reflection of the Suns <HI>golden</HI> Beams. His long Cloke, Bumbas-Doublet, and Trunk Ho&s;e are thread-bare: only ob&s;erve his left Thumb, Gloves, and Po&s;ey ever &s;ticking in his Girdle: which is a Cu&s;tom <HI>graver</HI> then his Beard. He moves in <HI>bawdy</HI> pace, much like a di&s;ea&s;ed <HI>French</HI> Man up a Hill: his weak Leggs being unable to &s;upport his old Car|ca&s;e: How! can a <HI>U&s;urer</HI> live till he be old? Yes, becau&s;e his Soul is not worthy the De|vils acceptance. The <HI>Scrivner</HI> is more formal in his Apparel: his whole credit (indeed) depending on a comely out&s;ide. Near them,
<PB N="53" REF="31">
beholde two <HI>leane-Gallants</HI> compo&s;ing of a cheat, One with his Nailes dig s fre&s;h in|ductions from his bu&s;ie Head: the other (twirling his <HI>Band-&s;trings</HI>) findes there a way to <HI>tie</HI> all up with a &s;trong conclu&s;ion. Not far off likwi&s;e walks another, who&s;e conti|nuall diver&s;ity of Garments, proclaimes him di&s;cended from the <HI>Man-in-the-Moone,</HI> that changes out&s;ide every Month. He wears a long <HI>Scabbard</HI> with a <HI>Hilt</HI> in it, but never a <HI>Blade,</HI> for that was broak in &s;triving for the Wall, and the Money which &s;hould buy an other, &s;pent to reconcile him&s;elfe to his Ad|ver&s;ary: for they fell out of purpo&s;e to drink together, not like <HI>Dutch</HI> Men, who drink to fall out. Another in an melancholy trance, marches with his Eies fa&s;tned to the Ground: whil&s;t his imagination <HI>wanders,</HI> like my Pen from the matter to which I mu&s;t now returne.</P>
<P>Ju&s;t when I was reading Papers pa&s;ted on the South Gate, a lu&s;ty young fellow (who perceav'd that I was drunke) pulls me by the Cloke, de&s;iring &s;ome privat conference with me: my <HI>knowledge</HI> never <HI>&s;aw</HI> his face before, nor could his bu&s;ine&s;&s;e come within the reach of my &s;uppo&s;e. Wel, I walk'd with him &s;ome halfe a &s;core turnes. <HI>Time</HI> and <HI>di&s;cour&s;e</HI> he &s;pent in inquiring where I was bred? what Gentlemen of note I knew in <HI>Glo&s;ter|&s;hire?</HI>
<PB N="54" REF="32">
I told him of divers, who&s;e names &s;eem'd better acquainted with his <HI>Eares,</HI> then their Per&s;ons with his <HI>Eies:</HI> withall a&s;k'd what urg'd in him this earne&s;t examination? faith Sir (quoth he) no harme, but I de&s;ire you to give me a Crowne for a privat rea&s;on to my &s;elfe. No thankes heartily quoth I: your <HI>privat</HI> rea&s;on appeares to me a <HI>publique</HI> cau&s;e (<HI>want</HI>) which though poorely worne by o|thers, &s;eems in you a phanta&s;ticall <HI>Cloak,</HI> to hide, vvhat you cannot &s;hevv. This could not &s;uffice him; the <HI>Rogue</HI> pur&s;&s;'d his Brovves in a <HI>&s;cornefull</HI> forme, laught (as it vvere) at my fooli&s;h thrift: and vvith <HI>active</HI> vvords, &s;ubtilly compo&s;'d, per&s;vvaded me, it vvas a thing vvonderfull nece&s;&s;arie, or con&s;equent in <HI>hidden</HI> &s;en&s;e, his de&s;ires &s;hould be accom|pli&s;ht. Come, come (quoth he) give it me, pi&s;h-give it me I &s;ay: vvhy thou fool! thou Enemy to thy ovvne good fortunes! fling it quickly, or I'le not &s;tay to receave it. My drunken Braines could not apprehend this <HI>new impudence:</HI> the money I &s;trait vvays threvv him; he as nimbly convayd it into his Pocket: and marching forvvard hurls his Head over his left Shoulder, gives me this re|vvard. Be rich, be happy, I &s;ay be happy; for thou vvert borne (young Man) in a happy Hour-farevvell. The&s;e words &s;trengthned tho&s;e &s;urmi&s;es in me, vvhom vvine had
<PB N="55" REF="32">
made vveake. My &s;uppo&s;itions concerning his qualitie vvere divers, and kill'd one ano|ther in contradiction: but at la&s;t <HI>memory</HI> &s;ea&s;d on that <HI>Philo&s;opher's</HI> opinion, vvho held, every Mans <HI>Good Genius</HI> offers his &s;ervice to him, once before he be Thirty yeares old: yet is generally refu&s;'d by that feare, vvhich &s;piritual Shapes beget, vvhen our under&s;tand|ing is &s;car'd from us. Now my imagination undervalue'd de&s;ert &s;o much as to think this my <HI>Good Genius</HI> in the &s;hape of a <HI>Beggar.</HI> I had three rea&s;ons vvhich vvrought me to this conjecture, and may likevvi&s;e induce thee to believe it an accidentall truth. Fir&s;t I vvas <HI>drunke,</HI> a <HI>&s;trong one,</HI> ex&s;tracted from my <HI>irra|tionable-weakne&s;&s;e:</HI> for vve are apte&s;t to credit impo&s;&s;ible things, vvhen the Soule <HI>con&s;idera|tion</HI> is drovvn'd: vvhich &s;hould <HI>dialogue</HI> with the Heart, before vve conclude to approve of any thing. Secondly the rawne&s;&s;e of my <HI>Youth:</HI> vvhich doth mo&s;t palpably excu&s;e my imbe|cillitie in di&s;tingui&s;hing <HI>Truth</HI> from <HI>fal&s;hood,</HI> vvhen you call to mind hovv he di&s;gui&s;'d both, in a &s;ubtill unknovvne &s;hape. Thirdly my <HI>beautifull Face</HI> vvrapt me in &s;uch a vain|glorious e&s;timation of my Merits; that I thought <HI>Fortune</HI> could not be too kinde, nor I covetous: for <HI>Beauty</HI> in a Man begets only a <HI>&s;elfe-dotage,</HI> his imagination being his flat|tering Gla&s;&s;e: vvhere he <HI>beholdes</HI> vvhat he can never finde (that is) &s;omething to attract
<PB N="56" REF="33">
<HI>amorous-amazment</HI> from the Spectators Eies: but indeed t'is no <HI>beauty,</HI> in being <HI>beauty,</HI> t'is&mdash;I vvot not vvhat: a &s;uperfluous ornament vvhich vvanton Mayds doe envy more than love: vvhich vvi&s;e Women &s;corne as a thing more incon&s;tant then their humors, and le&s;&s;e becoming. But novv to our purpo&s;e.</P>
<P>I was devi&s;ing with a <HI>fearfull</HI> doubt, and <HI>Hopefull</HI> amazement what to &s;ay: at la&s;t a&s;k'd, whether Heaven had &s;ent him thus di&s;|gui&s;'d, to proffer me his &s;ervice? the <HI>Ra&s;call</HI> (as I under&s;tood afterwards) was newly di&s;|carded by his Ma&s;ter, and glad of any Mans entertainment: therefore told me (if I plea&s;'d) he would &s;erve me with all his Heart, little &s;u&s;pecting what I meant; but &s;uppo&s;'d &s;o much of my Language, which appear'd improper in his apprehen&s;ion, to proceed from &s;uperfluous draughts. Well homewards I reel'd, ravi&s;ht with po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing a certaine kind of I knew not what: but &s;till glanc'd back mine Eie, expecting when my <HI>Good-Genius</HI> would transforme into a <HI>caele&s;|tiall</HI> &s;hape: though he (a plague on him) was con&s;tant in the forme of a <HI>Rogui&s;h</HI> face, and chang'd only in behavior: for enough I had of &s;uch ob&s;ervance as belongs to a new Ma&s;ter. The Winde had enter'd my Pate, as &s;oone as I my Lodging: &s;o that I was faine to goe to Bed, where I fell pre&s;ently fa&s;t a&s;leepe.
<PB N="57" REF="33">
He boldly call'd for a Payre of cleane Sheets, and Trukled under me: never attempting to pick my Pockets: though <HI>wickedne&s;&s;e</HI> was ad|vantag'd with an occa&s;ion &s;o provocative. About Midnight I wak'd and hearing one &s;nort at my Beds feete, was &s;trucken &s;ilent with a <HI>fearfull</HI> admiration. My <HI>Thoughts</HI> ex|amin'd my Heart concerning the la&s;t Days actions: my Heart &s;ummond the a&s;&s;i&s;tance of my <HI>Memory:</HI> &s;o that I recover'd by peece|meale the knowledge of what befell me in <HI>Paul's:</HI> how my <HI>Good Genius</HI> brought me to my Lodging: who mu&s;t (by all pre&s;ent con|&s;equents) be he that now di&s;turbs my Ears: which when peru&s;'d with <HI>&s;ober</HI> cogitation, &s;eem'd both &s;trange, and ridiculous. I con|&s;um'd three Howers in tedious &s;u&s;pence, un|till (&s;tepping from betweene the Sheets) the Sunne Beames u&s;herd my per&s;on within his reach: where I beheld an <HI>illfavour'd</HI> face, adorn'd by a <HI>fa&s;hionable</HI> Beard. My Hand (troubled with the <HI>Cowards-Pall&s;ey</HI>) I thru&s;t towards him, to try whether I could <HI>feele</HI> what I <HI>&s;aw;</HI> in fine, found him a <HI>&s;ub&s;tantiall</HI> Spirit, a <HI>human-Genius:</HI> &s;o return'd to con&s;i|der of it on my Pillow. At Six a Clock he ro&s;e, and after &s;ome ob&s;equious diligence in the way of &s;ervice, deliver'd to my <HI>inqui&s;i|tive</HI> mind what thou ha&s;t read: whil&s;t I find|ing him indu'd with a notable &s;hifting wit,
<PB N="58" REF="34">
<HI>&s;tood</HI> to a <HI>drunken</HI> bargain: his name was <HI>Oli|ver Bunge.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="8" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. VIII.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> acquaints you with his fir&s;t procee|dings, in his <HI>Satyricall</HI> calling; and in|veighs again&s;t three Men, who publiquely profe&s;&s;e them&s;elvs to be of the &s;ame vocation.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>NOthing can be &s;o acceptable to a judici|ous Capacity, as <HI>naturall</HI> expre&s;&s;ion; that is, to <HI>body</HI> out of matter with <HI>imaginary</HI> &s;ub&s;tance, to write (as it were) by <HI>in&s;pirati|on,</HI> to make <HI>real</HI> what <HI>Art</HI> but <HI>counterfeits,</HI> and with <HI>forc'd</HI> rap&s;ody labours only to di&s;|cover her imperfections. I &s;trove to <HI>be,</HI> (what others could but <HI>&s;eem</HI>) a perfect <HI>Satyri&s;t.</HI> Cource <HI>Cynical</HI> diet <HI>&s;owr'd</HI> my di&s;po&s;ition, <HI>bitter'd</HI> all my thoughts, by eating pa&s;&s;age for my <HI>Gaul,</HI> to overflow my <HI>Heart:</HI> and <HI>Cu&s;tom</HI> &s;etled my mind in <HI>affection</HI> of that, which be|fore &s;eem'd <HI>unnaturall</HI> to it. A <HI>Satyri&s;t</HI> hates only what he <HI>envies:</HI> 'twas formall in me to hate, and con&s;equent in &s;en&s;e to <HI>envy:</HI> but whom to envy (unle&s;&s;e tho&s;e great ones
<PB N="59" REF="34">
which I did fear to hate <HI>&s;atyrically</HI>) I knew not: therefore went by degrees to learn, what I was &s;oon able to teach. Publick Walks, and <HI>Theaters</HI> I often haunted: for there <HI>Phan|ta&s;y</HI> might <HI>feed</HI> to <HI>&s;ur&s;eit:</HI> but on what? on <HI>Envy;</HI> which made me leaner then a <HI>Spani&s;h</HI> Chandler. Gaudy rich Apparell <HI>cloth'd</HI> my young <HI>Thoughts,</HI> and after two Months &s;pace, I could cur&s;e <HI>Fortune</HI> as hand&s;omly as a <HI>beg|garly</HI> Souldier in his <HI>drink:</HI> &s;urvey my worth (in compari&s;on of &s;ome rich Gallants) with <HI>vain-glorious</HI> partiality, <HI>gnaw</HI> my neather Lip at him, pitty my own poor Fate with an an|gry Pa&s;&s;ion: &s;omtimes <HI>tire</HI> Melancholy with impo&s;&s;ible &s;uppo&s;itions; and in a &s;erious <HI>Trance,</HI> &s;tudy how to di&s;po&s;e of tho&s;e reve|news which belong to my <HI>imaginary</HI> Empire: wherein I am more liberal then <HI>drunken</HI> Pro|digality: hurling (as it were) a Million, to|gether with a courteous Nod, to him I n'ere convers'd withall but once; or el&s;e erect new <HI>Ca&s;tles</HI> in the Air, and &s;trengthen their foundation with half an Hours perdurance longer then the former (that is) to give them life ju&s;t till <HI>Dinner</HI> time: but then <HI>Hunger</HI> brought me to our Parlour-Table; where, when I beheld nothing but <HI>&s;olid</HI> Beef, and <HI>tough</HI> Brawn (meer <HI>antipathies</HI> to tho&s;e vari|ous &s;ervices which would be equivalent with the &s;tate of an <HI>Emperour</HI>) I could not but
<PB N="60" REF="35">
(humbling my &s;elf) remember there was no &s;uch matter: and &s;o fall into a &s;econd <HI>Me|lancholly,</HI> though le&s;&s;e plea&s;ing then the o|ther.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e whom I fir&s;t rail'd at, were Men of my own calling (<HI>Satyri&s;ts</HI>) a new device, therefore likely to be approv'd of in this new World: wherein old waies are &s;corn'd; be|cau&s;e <HI>accu&s;tomary:</HI> though in the golden time, <HI>Cu&s;tom</HI> enjoy'd more able &s;trength then <HI>Law,</HI> was upheld by <HI>Super&s;tition,</HI> and might com|mend it &s;elf without vain-glory. The chief motive that invited me to write again&s;t them, was their <HI>ignorant</HI> di&s;gracing of our profe&s;&s;ion. Three flouri&s;h'd with vulgar ap|probation in my time: each of them publi&s;h|ing divers <HI>Satyrs:</HI> including &s;tuffe, not wor|thy to be worn by our memory, unle&s;&s;e in deri&s;ion. The fir&s;t (who claims precendencie by previvation) &s;trove to excu&s;e his ab&s;urd writing, by publi&s;hing a wor&s;e fault (<HI>he was no Scholler</HI>): O impertinent di&s;covery of what did mo&s;t palpably di&s;cover it &s;elf! what <HI>rid|ling</HI> Phy&s;ick did&s;t thou mini&s;ter to thy <HI>Fames</HI> health? for though the <HI>confe&s;&s;ion</HI> of thy defi|ciencie, le&s;&s;en thy fir&s;t defect in <HI>Catholique</HI> ab|&s;olution; yet thou ha&s;t joynd a greater to it. Who but an <HI>Emperick</HI> would dimini&s;h in his <HI>Patient</HI> the torment of one Grief, by aggrava|ting the Souls langui&s;hment with a &s;econd
<PB N="61" REF="35">
di&s;ea&s;e? O thou <HI>Fool!</HI> thou <HI>Dunce!</HI> I fret as zealous of my calling, but never pitty thee, unle&s;&s;e when I con&s;ider that <HI>Pitty</HI> yields no <HI>remedy.</HI></P>
<P>The &s;econd foyld off <HI>coor&s;e</HI> phra&s;e, and <HI>rugged</HI> Rime, with a &s;awcy impudence: his ambitious Pen (made &s;urely of an <HI>Eagles</HI> Quill) <HI>&s;oar'd</HI> to reach the actions of great States-Men-<HI>Cynicall</HI> behaviour, and practi|&s;ing the rough, unfa&s;hionable rudiments of a Souldiers life, made him appear in our <HI>Ple|beions</HI> apprehen&s;ion (who&s;e dull <HI>gue&s;&s;ing</HI> judg|ments can only cen&s;ure by the out&s;ide) the thing which he had not wit enough to be. A <HI>Cur</HI> that barked like a <HI>Cur:</HI> un&s;en&s;ible, what motiv'd his <HI>un&s;en&s;ible</HI> Language: not able to expre&s;&s;e his weak faculties, but in that high <HI>Satyricall</HI> &s;train, which did mi&s;become it mo&s;t: for he would be <HI>dumb</HI> two years, untill the untimely fall of &s;ome new born Family rais'd up his voice to kill quite their dying Fame. Cowardly Executioner! that dur&s;t but de|&s;troy tho&s;e who&s;e offences do <HI>condemn,</HI> and the State <HI>di&s;arm</HI> to &s;uffer. But leave we thee too.</P>
<P>The Third is le&s;&s;e <HI>witty,</HI> but more ambiti|ous in preferring his factious Spirit, to the eminent ob&s;ervation of our durty rabble: and by their encouragement, rears up his <HI>leaden</HI> Mu&s;e to reach, what el&s;e <HI>dul weight</HI> might keep
<PB N="62" REF="36">
below a proper Patronage. His Childi&s;h <HI>Po|ems,</HI> and Mungrell <HI>Satyrs</HI> are his own <HI>Chroni|cle,</HI> and too much <HI>commend</HI> him; which as it is the <HI>cheape&s;t</HI> Flattery, &s;o 'tis the <HI>wor&s;t.</HI> Many think he labour'd by it, to prevent the Rea|ders <HI>labour:</HI> but I think it an <HI>unnece&s;&s;ary</HI> care. Somtimes <HI>Fortune</HI> lends his dull apprehen&s;ion Eies, to &s;ee his imperfections: occa&s;ioning her <HI>blindne&s;&s;e</HI> as her puni&s;hment; and him a bad chance to &s;ucceed the <HI>pretence</HI> of a good <HI>omen,</HI> by beholding that defective which he cannot mend; no not excu&s;e, unle&s;&s;e in pro|claiming to the World his <HI>Youth:</HI> an old trick, yet in <HI>fa&s;hion</HI> &s;till with him. If thou ha&s;t read his <HI>Satyr;</HI> which though proudly dedicated, is &s;o poor in matter, &s;o ba&s;ely ob&s;equious for a <HI>re&s;olute</HI> offence; thou might'&s;t per|ceive how his <HI>&s;trong</HI> weakne&s;&s;e in&s;ults over a &s;elf-conque&s;t; how he asks too much pardon for that fault, which he doth not confe&s;&s;e him&s;elf guilty of, or el&s;e dares not. Somtimes he doth promi&s;cuou&s;ly admire in him&s;elf a &s;upernatural gift: &s;aying, <HI>'Tis wonderd how my youth &s;o much corruption can di&s;clo&s;e.</HI> O pre|&s;uming <HI>confidence,</HI> and <HI>confident</HI> vain-glory! as if ought (worth admiration) could pro|ceed from di&s;clo&s;ing that, which is not hid from vulgar knowledge? be&s;ides a <HI>&s;quint|Eied</HI> Man may &s;ooner di&s;cern <HI>blindne&s;&s;e</HI> in a|nother, then cure his own <HI>imperfections:</HI> yet
<PB N="63" REF="36">
this young in&s;pir'd <HI>Satyri&s;t</HI> (who is only skilful in the knowledge of what infects knowledge) doth catch the approbation of divers Gallants: but what are they? <HI>Souldiers of the Time,</HI> bigg Thigh'd <HI>Puffs,</HI> &s;tronger in <HI>words</HI> then <HI>action,</HI> in <HI>Limbs</HI> then <HI>Judgement,</HI> in whom <HI>admiration</HI> is <HI>commendation,</HI> and <HI>Igno|rance</HI> Father to the fir&s;t: who apprehend meerly the Authors labour, on a Subject which <HI>might</HI> expre&s;&s;e wit&punc; but cannot <HI>di&s;tin|gui&s;h</HI> any.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="9" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="64" REF="37">
<HEAD>CHAP. IX.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> doth in particular exclaim again&s;t all tho&s;e Satyri&s;ts who hide them&s;elves, yet publi&s;h their writings: &s;hews Rea&s;ons for &s;o doing: with a trick that he hath bobs privately; delivers a briefe &s;uperficiall Character of the Hol|landers, and relates in what man|ner he &s;pent part of his time in <HI>London,</HI> when attended on, by his man <HI>Bunge.</HI></P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>NOw though the&s;e Three did in publique pre&s;ent them&s;elves to our di&s;covery; yet know we can di&s;clo&s;e tho&s;e Men too, that murmure in ob&s;cure Corners: who are fear|full even of &s;peaking &s;oftly; therefore pro|claim to others a <HI>dumb &s;ilence</HI> in their own <HI>prattle:</HI> who <HI>whi&s;per</HI> with their Pens, and <HI>darkly</HI> bring their thoughts to light in <HI>Hiero|glyphicall</HI> words, per&s;onating Men in the na|tures of Bea&s;ts, who&s;e names (<HI>literally</HI> or <HI>alle|gorically</HI>) doth &s;ympathize with theirs, whom they aime at. Some of them I hated, becau&s;e
<PB N="65" REF="37">
their Works (not &s;o commonly extant as mine) took from the worth of mine; yet ad|ded not to their Fame: by rea&s;on they were loath to acknowledge tho&s;e Ba&s;tards which their Mu&s;e begot. Other&s;ome I could not hate, but pitty: becau&s;e they hated them|&s;elves with &s;ufficient demon&s;tration in pub|li&s;hing their own folly: apply my meaning when thy labour is ill requited; by reading tho&s;e Ver&s;es which &s;o bitterly invegh'd a|gain&s;t our <HI>King,</HI> his royall Pa&s;times, and mo&s;t judicious di&s;po&s;ure of his favour: but if a mode&s;t reverence (due to that &s;acred Ma|je&s;tie) <HI>mu&s;le</HI> thy Eies from beholding &s;uch <HI>un|naturall</HI> bla&s;phemy; yet &s;trive to <HI>encourage</HI> thy revenge, by reading tho&s;e foppi&s;h ragged Lines; which &s;ome <HI>Iron-witted School-Boy,</HI> &s;ome <HI>Leaden-Sould-Puppy</HI> bark'd again&s;t him, who&s;e compleat worth, and full de&s;ert, pre|fer'd him to be his <HI>Favourite,</HI> that is &s;till con|&s;tant in his politique choice. Or if thou wilt not tempt thy patience to &s;uch a dangerous experiment, peru&s;e the &s;en&s;e of that hypo|criticall <HI>Satyr,</HI> which by way of prayer for the pre&s;ervation of his Soveraigns five &s;en&s;es, mo&s;t fal&s;lyaccu&s;d every one, of a prepo&s;terous defect. Or if thy duty al&s;o be <HI>in love;</HI> and that love, <HI>blind</HI> to all &s;uch Fame-murdering Libells: vouch&s;afe then to read the humble Petition of that <HI>ingenious</HI> Gentleman! that
<PB N="66" REF="38">
<HI>parlous</HI> wit! who to exceed in a new device; deliver'd it Queen <HI>Elizabeths</HI> Toomb, and an&s;wer'd it him&s;elfe: a <HI>nece&s;&s;ary</HI> &s;atisfaction, an <HI>unnece&s;&s;ary</HI> reque&s;t; for he that talks to the dumb, mu&s;t reply to his own &s;peech: be&s;ides t'was more probable that the Stones would laugh, then &s;peake: for though <HI>Elizabeth's</HI> being there &s;hould infu&s;e a contrary pa&s;&s;ion, yet his Jea&s;t mu&s;t needs make <HI>a Stone laugh;</HI> according to the <HI>Italian</HI> Proverb.</P>
<P>Well, henceforth be all your Lips &s;owde up, burie your words (compo&s;'d of &s;uch un|whol&s;ome Breath) in your owne hollow Brea&s;ts, lea&s;t they infect others. Let your Pens no more betray your thoughts: Nor do you by <HI>mimick</HI> lookes, ambiguous action with the Head, or politique ge&s;ture of the Body, &s;eeme <HI>neutrally</HI> inclinde in your o|pinion concerning dangerous demaunds: for this <HI>Hypocri&s;ie</HI> makes a Man a <HI>Stranger</HI> to his owne de&s;ignes, like <HI>Time;</HI> ruins where it &s;ea|&s;eth: and is only good in that it rewards the u&s;er with de&s;truction. Be&s;ides if your owne particular weale cannot per&s;wade you to &s;ilence, yet let Charitie cau&s;e you to remem|ber, the generall good of our Profe&s;&s;ion: and how you have le&s;&s;end that e&s;timation which the World held us in, by a <HI>Cowardly</HI> pre&s;er|vation of your owne &s;afeties; by a feare to di&s;cover your &s;elves Authors of what <HI>private|ly</HI>
<PB N="67" REF="38">
you <HI>publi&s;h:</HI> but 'tis known, a <HI>Satyri&s;t</HI> &s;hould u&s;her Action with more holdne&s;&s;e, than <HI>Re&s;o|lation</HI> can beget, when <HI>danger</HI> murders <HI>Feare.</HI> Impudence in a <HI>&s;hrivd-Bawde</HI> doth not &s;o con|fidently tru&s;t to the helpe of <HI>equivocation,</HI> as he to the vallor of a factious Spirit. Holy|zeale, and a care of his Country, are tho&s;e <HI>pretences</HI> wherwith he &s;hould <HI>gull</HI> his owne Con&s;cience, and &s;trengthen his pure fame throughout the world: but your faint Cou|rage argues Guilt, which you &s;eeme privatly to confe&s;&s;e, as fearfull of a publique puni&s;h|ment: whil&s;t wee that are valiant, oppo&s;e our &s;elves to &s;uffer, what you craftily avoyd. Therefore I conjure you once more (by the paine of my correction) to be dumb hereaf|ter; take heed: but e&s;pecially mutter not a|gain&s;t him, who&s;e fame is bullwark'd with my Soule, who&s;e <HI>defence</HI> is my <HI>reputation&punc;</HI> which I &s;trive to pre&s;erve (unmaim'd) more for the love I owe his <HI>&s;afety,</HI> then my owne <HI>Glory.</HI> Be&s;ides your <HI>Envy,</HI> which when fa&s;tned on others, &s;he ws <HI>pale</HI> and <HI>leane,</HI> will then <HI>ana|tomize</HI> it &s;elfe, and appeare more deform'd, then your ba&s;e di&s;hone&s;ty. But &s;tay my deere Mu&s;e do not in pur&s;uit of an Enemy, runne thy &s;elfe quite out of breath: or with the Caele&s;tiall heat of true affection &s;acrifize at once thy &s;elfe to a friends acceptance. There is one more yet, eminent in thy Ma&s;ters hate,
<PB N="68" REF="39">
whom I di&s;cover for thy Conque&s;t. Cour|age my Darling for thou mu&s;t fly to <HI>Holland,</HI> where he lives that dulls our profit, with &s;ending hither little <HI>Pamphlets:</HI> which are <HI>new-years-guifts,</HI> for all tho&s;e turbulent Heads, who pry into the old yeares actions in hope of alteration. The Books are little worth; unle&s;&s;e value'd by the <HI>Stationer,</HI> who makes the Peoples fond e&s;timation his gaine: and in that doth us a courte&s;ie, for though <HI>comming from farr,</HI> make them more plea&s;ing to <HI>ignorant</HI> fancy, yet it makes them di&s;plea&s;ing to the Pur&s;e: which being a thing neerer their love, and tie'd with their very Heart-&s;trings, cannot but prefer our <HI>cheape</HI> Bookes to the third degree of <HI>Compari|&s;on.</HI> Some account them learned, but t'is in <HI>accu&s;ation</HI> not in <HI>commendation:</HI> for Schollers (who have not long practi&s;'d the <HI>Practique</HI> part of what they &s;tudy) are naturally en|clind to a <HI>prodigall</HI> utterance of &s;uch deepe knowledge, as <HI>unprofitable</HI> Memory doth <HI>in|trude</HI> into the company of <HI>Matter,</HI> which would expre&s;&s;e more <HI>Skill,</HI> with le&s;&s;e <HI>Art.</HI> It is a <HI>learned</HI> imperfection like&punc;I wot not what to call it: but they do <HI>&s;tifle</HI> their meaning, by &s;triving with a multitude of <HI>Sentences</HI> to give it life: &amp; thinking they can never make u&s;e of al which they have read; expre&s;&s;e their <HI>Schol|ler&s;hip</HI> with as much <HI>impertinencie,</HI> as want of
<PB N="69" REF="39">
<HI>Ignorance</HI> with <HI>palpabilitie.</HI> Be&s;ides though his &s;awcy treati&s;es of our State, and Govern|ment are approv'd of by tho&s;e, that are faine to make <HI>Report a</HI> Tutor to their knowledge, that are meerly States-men by reading his Bookes. Yet others who get Experience in their high Offices, and abilitie to di&s;tingui&s;h by their &s;ound learning, finde him unable to frame an <HI>Idea,</HI> of what he &s;trives <HI>really</HI> to compo&s;e much le&s;&s;e <HI>correct</HI> that, which <HI>Igno|rance</HI> makes him <HI>dislike.</HI></P>
<P>But returne wee now from <HI>Holland,</HI> lea&s;t the gro&s;&s;e dull Ayre infect our Braines, the <HI>Boores</HI> our manners: &s;o that we forget all the formall <HI>complement</HI> belonging to a new Book. They are a Nation that <HI>&s;wimme</HI> in their owne <HI>profitable &s;weat:</HI> that have found out what &s;weet &s;ucce&s;&s;e depends on <HI>&s;udden</HI>-Indu&s;try, therefore <HI>tire</HI> them&s;elves with&punc; <HI>covetous&punc;</HI> La|bour, <HI>&s;ecurely</HI> to take re&s;t. Their fa&s;hions are mo&s;t uncivill, for did not a <HI>legall</HI> puni&s;hment curb their naturall di&s;po&s;ition, they would demon&s;trate more <HI>Athei&s;ticall</HI> behaviour, then <HI>religious</HI> feare. They never fight but under the Banner of <HI>Bacchus,</HI> who having &s;afely &s;hrowded their <HI>Imagination</HI> in a Mote of <HI>Eng|li&s;h</HI> Beer, they can be <HI>de&s;perate</HI> not <HI>valiant.</HI> To call them <HI>Traytors</HI> were with <HI>blunt</HI> phra&s;e to conclude <HI>ra&s;hely,</HI> what others with <HI>equivoca|ting</HI> Arguments have tediou&s;ly di&s;puted on,
<PB N="70" REF="40">
but never ab&s;olutely agreed in arbitration&punc; or rather poorely to require that &s;awcy Lan|guage, which they utter again&s;t his &s;acred Per&s;on, whom with <HI>love,</HI> and <HI>duty</HI> I equally adore. Their Government is a <HI>compo&s;'d-con|fu&s;ion</HI> of new Policy. Some think it an <HI>O|ligarchie,</HI> &s;ome a <HI>Democracie,</HI> &s;ome between both. But &s;ure I am the Peoples Hearts <HI>rebell</HI> to attaine the fir&s;t: though the <HI>ambition</HI> of rich Merchants <HI>labours</HI> for the &s;econd, and <HI>compells</HI> them to live between both. I only grieve that our Gentlemen, <HI>Younger</HI> Brothers (who by comming a year lag of &s;ome nimble <HI>Fop</HI> into the World, come to &s;oone to inherit Sorrow) &s;hould lie <HI>Perdu</HI> in &s;afeguard of &s;uch <HI>Pedants,</HI> for three Shillings a Weeke: <HI>O pe|nurious</HI> Nece&s;&s;itie! and <HI>nece&s;&s;arie</HI> Thrift! Who can <HI>Maintaine</HI> a Soul with &s;o poore a &s;ti|pend, for the love too of &s;uch ingratefull Mon|&s;ters, that peece up their pay with publique contempt, and privat fcoffs. I vow by the Spirit of a <HI>Nim,</HI> I had rather cea&s;e to ex&s;i&s;t. But I mu&s;t come now to that, from which I have wander'd.</P>
<P>Full &s;eaven Months did I labour by in|vective Songs to di&s;&s;ect from the Body of my calling, unprofitable Members: &s;uch who were meerly &s;hapes of uneffectuall u&s;e, there|by thinking to enter into a publique Contro|ver&s;ie, with &s;ome one eminent in vulgar e|&s;timation,
<PB N="71" REF="40">
and too weake in faculties to with&s;tand my oppo&s;ition: which had bin a choi&s;e way to have made my &s;elfe famous in the World, and <HI>particular</HI> in all Mens no|tice&punc; for he that di&s;commends others, &s;eemes to commend him &s;elfe by a <HI>dumb-compari&s;on:</HI> and <HI>&s;elfe-commendations</HI> the World will prie into, in expectation of &s;ome &s;upernaturall guift, that may excu&s;e &s;uch <HI>immode&s;t</HI> Vaine|glory. The publi&s;her of my Writings was my unfortunate Rogue <HI>Bunge,</HI> who pre&s;euted them to his old Ma&s;ters, as &s;tolne from me&punc; now whether they (unable to apprehend <HI>con|ceipt</HI>) neglected to divulge them abroad, or el&s;e (being divulg'd) None whom I challen|ged, dur&s;t take exceptions; as fearfull to in|vire more Anger, I know not: but &s;ure I am they prov'd to me of no effect. One merry accident (occa&s;ioned by the&s;e proceedings) I will not omit thy knovvledge.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="10" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="72" REF="41">
<HEAD>CHAP. X.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> being de&s;irous to make thee laugh, doth in this Chapter report a notable merry accident, which befellhis man <HI>Oliver Bunge.</HI></P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>A Certain young Gentlewoman (enr&icirc;cht with a compudent Portion by her di&s;|cea&s;od Fathers Will) grew <HI>carnally</HI> acquaint|ed with a wealthy <HI>Ward:</HI> one that did not long enjoy her to him&s;elf, becau&s;e he was not alwaies &s;ufficiently provided to plea&s;e her in&s;atiable Appetite: for 'tis with Maids as with <HI>Tobacconi&s;ts,</HI> who having once <HI>ta&s;ted</HI> in <HI>delight,</HI> what before with <HI>Pain</HI> they did <HI>a|void,</HI> they cannot live without it: which made her &s;tray for fre&s;h pa&s;ture. At la&s;t her Fancy lighted on a <HI>Drummer,</HI> who&s;e name was <HI>Peel:</HI> a Fellow limm'd for <HI>prodigality</HI> in <HI>action:</HI> made to <HI>people</HI> Countries, to beget more Men, then the <HI>Plague</HI> devours. Her greedy Pa&s;&s;ion could not attend upon <HI>formality,</HI> or tedious Time, till <HI>Occa&s;ion</HI> might pre&s;ent her with an acci|dent that would excu&s;o her <HI>immode&s;ty,</HI> in di&s;|covering &s;uch <HI>di&s;hone&s;t</HI> Love: but boldly &s;he &s;ends for him to her Fathers Hou&s;e, where fir&s;t &s;he &s;aw him (in the company of a <HI>Ser|ving-man</HI>)
<PB N="73" REF="41">
and unfolds to him her mind, which he admir'd, and likld: &s;o that the next Morning he &s;tole her from her Friends, brought her to <HI>London,</HI> and married her. The <HI>ward</HI> hears of it, pur&s;ues them thither; and by a politique inqui&s;ition found out their Lodging. Of late time &s;he had made his foo|li&s;h dotage her mirth, wherefore now he en|tends &s;he &s;hall be &s;erved with the like Sawce: purpo&s;ing to &s;end her a Copy of Ver&s;es, wherein he would bitterly deride, her &amp; <HI>Peel</HI> the <HI>Drummer.</HI> Of the&s;e Ver&s;es I became Au|thor by this chance.</P>
<P><HI>Bunge</HI> pa&s;&s;ing through Fleet-Street about my bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, met with an old Ma&s;ter of his, who accompany'd the <HI>Ward,</HI> and hath here|tofore been: vi&s;ited with my Papers. After a little talk between them he acquainted him with what thou ha&s;t read, de&s;ir'd him that he would procure me to write &s;ome Ver&s;es upon that &s;ubject, and bring them to the <HI>wards</HI> logding before night. <HI>Bunge</HI> pre&s;ently return'd home to tell me the Plot, on which I wrote thus.</P>
<LG N="1">
<HEAD>(1)</HEAD>
<L>Whore, wonder not I write to thee</L>
<L>In Ver&s;e; like &s;ome lyrick Poet:</L>
<L>&punc;Tis 'cau&s;e thou ha&s;t rejected me.</L>
<L>Yet think&s;t not, that I do know it:</L>
<L><PB N="74" REF="42">But know, I know that thou art come;</L>
<L>To know <HI>Peel's Drum-&s;tick,</HI> he thy <HI>Drum.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG N="2">
<HEAD>(2)</HEAD>
<L>Perhaps thy Folly may admire</L>
<L>(Since heretofore my ba&s;hfull mind</L>
<L>Did make me dumb) how I a&s;pire,</L>
<L>So &s;oon to Thunder in this kind:</L>
<L>But know, I know that my great wrong</L>
<L>Would make him &s;peak that had no Tongue.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="3">
<HEAD>(3)</HEAD>
<L>With fierce Alarum you intend</L>
<L>To &s;ummon every <HI>Sen&s;e</HI> to come</L>
<L>Before this <HI>bawdy</HI> Night &s;hall end</L>
<L>Trembling full faint about thy <HI>drum:</HI></L>
<L>As how? I know not, but in this</L>
<L>They gue&s;&s;e <HI>aright,</HI> that gue&s;&s;e <HI>ami&s;&s;e.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG N="4">
<HEAD>(4)</HEAD>
<L><HI>Peel</HI> will &s;uppo&s;e thy <HI>skin</HI> is <HI>tough</HI></L>
<L>And his <HI>Stick</HI> too weak to break it</L>
<L>Unle&s;&s;e his blow be too too rough,</L>
<L>As gladly &s;o thou would&s;t be&s;peak it.</L>
<L>But (alas) 'tis plaid upon, and worn</L>
<L>By three <HI>Drum-&s;ticks</HI> be&s;ides my own.</L>
</LG>
<LG N="5">
<HEAD>(5)</HEAD>
<L>Not till Plagues are hot in hou&s;e, &amp; field,</L>
<L>Till all men die, do thou accord</L>
<L><PB N="75" REF="42">With him; to venture for a Child,</L>
<L>'Cau&s;e whores I&s;&s;ues are &s;o abhor'd</L>
<L>That 'twere not fit the Brat &s;hould meet</L>
<L>A <HI>Swadling-Clout,</HI> but <HI>Winding-Sheet.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG N="6">
<HEAD>(6)</HEAD>
<L>Give <HI>Peel the</HI> Lie; thou mangy Drab,</L>
<L>Not that I deign with him to fight,</L>
<L>But 'cau&s;e the Lie de&s;erues the Stab,</L>
<L>Which <HI>to receive</HI> it thy delight.</L>
<L>Now wonder not I &s;ing &s;o hoarce what thou ha&s;t read,</L>
<L>For, whore, thou knou&s;t that thou ha&s;t had my <HI>Maiden-head.</HI></L>
</LG>
<P>The&s;e being fairly written; <HI>Bunge</HI> con|vey'd unto the young <HI>wards</HI> Lodging, who was privately inform'd, that the <HI>Drummer,</HI> and his Wife knew of his being in Town, therefore (to avoid his company) chang'd their aboade: but whither went they? even into <HI>Turnball</HI>-Street: ju&s;t the politique &s;hift of a poor Souldier, who&s;e <HI>nece&s;&s;ity</HI> is &s;o well accommodated, with <HI>convenient</HI> a&s;&s;i&s;tance, to rai&s;e him to the height of a good Fortune, that he often <HI>falls</HI> in <HI>climing,</HI> but &s;o low, as he can never reach it again. The Hou&s;e was pol|luted with a <HI>bawdy</HI> Tenant: who&s;e acquain|tance my <HI>Drummer</HI> bought dearly on a Satur|day Night: reeling into the Door with a con|&s;ort
<PB N="76" REF="43">
of ba&s;e Companions. His love-&s;ick Wife was ea&s;ily per&s;waded to believe the <HI>Rawd</HI> his Mothers own Si&s;ter: and the place very convenient to conceal this &s;toln Marri|age. Now tho&s;e who before enform'd the <HI>ward</HI> of their fir&s;t lodging, <HI>dogg'd</HI> them al&s;o to this, and pre&s;ently brought him word, in what a &s;tately Palace the poor <HI>Drummer</HI> en|tertain'd her. Out of a <HI>politique</HI> prodigalitie he gave <HI>Bunge</HI> three Pounds for the Ver&s;es: thinking to buy a <HI>gratitude</HI> &s;o potent in him, that he &s;hould &s;uppo&s;e no &s;econd &s;ervice full in requitall, no though he ventured a beat|ing by it. So whil&s;t the Gentleman (<HI>Bungs</HI> old Ma&s;ter) entertain'd him with impertient di&s;cour&s;e, the <HI>ward</HI> enclos'd the Ver&s;es in an other Paper, which he &s;eal'd and &s;uper&s;crib'd in the true name of his <HI>quondam</HI> Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, lodging at the Sign of <HI>Sun</HI> and <HI>Moon</HI> in <HI>Turn|ball</HI>-Street: knowing, though <HI>Bunge</HI> had heard of the name of <HI>Peel,</HI> yet with hers he was wholly unacquainted: be&s;ides to prevent all motives of &s;u&s;pition, he gave it him in pri|vate; &s;aying, we are all mortall, Fle&s;h and Blood: Young men mu&s;t be tamed when they are lu&s;ty. I am now <HI>&s;ick</HI> of <HI>too much health,</HI> but that &s;uper&s;cription wil direct thee to a shee <HI>Galon,</HI> one that will purge the Body of all <HI>rampant</HI> humours: whol&s;om &s;he is, though poor. My own Man is a Country-<HI>Cockney,</HI> ne|ver
<PB N="77" REF="43">
came within the &s;mell of a City, never &s;aw the Cities Face; much le&s;&s;e the <HI>&s;ecret parts</HI> of it, therefore is unfit to be employ'd in this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e. Now if thou wilt go, and bring her to me, by the virtue of that Letter, I &s;hall exceed in a gratuity: but make ha&s;te back, for you mu&s;t pre&s;ently al&s;o a&s;&s;i&s;t us in the delivery of our Ver&s;es. The Rogue <HI>Bunge</HI> &s;u&s;pected nothing, but did <HI>impudently</HI> &s;teal a <HI>mode&s;t</HI> laughter: turn'd a&s;ide, not as if he were a&s;hamed of what he heard, but of what he was about to &s;peak: Quoth he (as though <HI>lo&s;t</HI> in <HI>complement</HI>) O Lord Sir! you &s;hall not need to take care for that nece&s;&s;arie implement: I'le provide one again&s;t Night; but not out of <HI>Turnball</HI>-Street: that place cannot afford a Creature worthy your Wor&s;hips embraces. The <HI>ward</HI> was glad that he in&s;i&s;ted in &s;trengthning a mi&s;take, thank'd him for his kindne&s;&s;e, and &s;aid he would u&s;e none but her: he knew &s;he was whol&s;ome, but many of your brave, glorious <HI>whores</HI> are like <HI>Tedu|la</HI> Quinces; the fairer on the out&s;ide, the rotner within. <HI>Bunge</HI> being greedy of &s;udden imployment, took his leave, well &s;atisfied with that reply.</P>
<P>He vvas no &s;ooner come vvithin the reach of their Tongues, vvho border in that hot Continent: but every one (as their fa&s;hion is) lured him into their Kennell, there to coole
<PB N="78" REF="44">
him according to a <HI>Philo&s;ophicall</HI> rule, <HI>Heat expells Heat.</HI> The Sunne attracts not Cloudes fa&s;ter then the&s;e Whores Pa&s;&s;engers: in vvhom <HI>Beauty</HI> dravves <HI>corruption</HI> to defile it &s;elfe. <HI>Bunge</HI> needed not enquire for the &s;igne of the <HI>Sunne</HI> and <HI>Moone,</HI> becau&s;e the properties of both (<HI>heate</HI> and <HI>incon&s;tancie</HI>) did po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e a Wench, which &s;tood in the &s;ame Doore: and thinking that he was &s;ome <HI>&s;tar|ved</HI> Cu&s;tomer, enticed him to enter: vvhil&s;t his Eies looking on the &s;igne; found it expe|dient her reque&s;t &s;hould be accompli&s;hed.</P>
<P>After two Oathes &s;worne in defiance of her <HI>&s;ecret-parts,</HI> and three Bu&s;&s;es given in &s;a|tisfaction for &s;uch <HI>hone&s;t</HI> unkindne&s;&s;e; he en|quires for that Gentlewoman, to whom his Letter was directed. The Whore being wholly unperfect in the knowledg of her Name, did expre&s;&s;e (by a forgetfull admira|tion, or an <HI>inqui&s;itive</HI> forgetfullne&s;&s;e) &s;mall acquaintance; and that very <HI>young</HI> to: where|fore <HI>Bunge</HI> thought the Gentlewoman to be a wanton Country Wench, but not yet of re|&s;idence long enough to know the <HI>French|di&s;ea&s;e: a rare ignorance!</HI> which made his Ap|petite re&s;olve to ta&s;te her, before him, that &s;ent him to her. Up Staires he mounted, and the Wench led him through a <HI>Labyrinth</HI> of darke Clo&s;&s;ers: which the Workman &s;eem'd <HI>&s;ubtitly</HI> to hide from his owne di&s;covery: or
<PB N="79" REF="44">
from every Eie, as a&s;hamed to acknowledge the making of &s;uch &s;infull Cabinets; where aged. Beds oppo&s;e each other in envious &s;eituation. Having (I &s;ay) pa&s;&s;ed this <HI>reall</HI> Purgatory, &s;he directed him to a Chamber; wherein he entered, and found the <HI>Drum|mer,</HI> and his La&s;&s;e <HI>warming</HI> the Fire. Beleeve it Reader, even &s;o: for though the Fire would not warme them, they &s;at by it to keepe away the Winde, or to enclo&s;e the heate to a nar|row di&s;per&s;ion, that &s;o it might reflect upon it &s;elfe. Though t'is a que&s;tion whether there were any Fire at all? for <HI>Bunge</HI> &s;vvore he could not <HI>di&s;cerne</HI> enough to <HI>warme</HI> his Eies. Which makes me think &s;he was enflamed with <HI>burning</HI> Love, that for his &s;ake could be content of &s;uch <HI>cold</HI> entertainment.</P>
<P><HI>Bunge</HI> liked her face well, but &s;uppo&s;'d the <HI>Drummer</HI> to be &s;ome learned <HI>Pander;</HI> that &s;at expounding to her, the my&s;tery of that call|ing. When he &s;tep'd in, they both <HI>&s;tood up</HI> (an u&s;uall complement at the fir&s;t &s;ight of Strangers) and gazeing upon one another with <HI>&s;peaking</HI> Eies; did (as it were) <HI>dumbly</HI> a&s;ke, whether he vvere knowne to either? vvhil&s;t he took her a&s;ide and ki&s;&s;'d her. The <HI>Drummer</HI> did not like that, yet dur&s;t not ex|pre&s;&s;e anger, le&s;t a Quarrell might call up the <HI>Bawde,</HI> and Whores; &s;o con&s;equently, his Wife di&s;cover the conditions of the Hou&s;e,
<PB N="80" REF="45">
who was yet ignorant of them. But this his &s;ufferance did turne <HI>Bunge's</HI> likely conjec|ture (that &s;he was a Country Whore) into a &s;trong beliefe: for now he convayes her with an <HI>intreated</HI> force, and the mentioning of a Letter, into the next Chamber: <HI>Peeles</HI> creepes after them in &s;earch of the event, and fa&s;tening his Eie in a Key-hole; per|ceaved <HI>Bunge</HI> labouring to make him Cuck|old: whil&s;t the Gentlewoman oppo&s;'d his de|&s;ires, more with a new <HI>wonder,</HI> then an old <HI>defence,</HI> as &s;hreekes, or loud acclamations.</P>
<P>The <HI>Souldier</HI> lo&s;t his <HI>Patience,</HI> but with a <HI>con&s;idering.</HI> Eie <HI>found</HI> it againe: yet &s;o <HI>thred|bare</HI> that he &s;corn'd to <HI>weare</HI> it. Therefore through the Dores he went: demanding him, how he dur&s;t offer his Per&s;on that di&s;|grace? <HI>Bunge</HI> knew no &s;afer an&s;wer then a deniall: &amp; &s;uppo&s;'d by the&s;e proceedings that <HI>Peele</HI> was &s;ome blunt Gentleman, who had lately undertaken to be her Lover. There|fore he deprives his Pocket of the Letter, and gave it her: telling him, how he knew the Gentlewoman would acknowledge him better wellcome, when &s;he had read that.</P>
<P>Thus whil&s;t he retyr'd him &s;elfe a&s;&s;ide, in con&s;ideration how he might enjoy her Body, they un&s;ealed the Letter: found that blanke, but the Paper therein enclo&s;ed, fill'd with Ver&s;es. <HI>Peele</HI> being loath to degenerat from
<PB N="81" REF="45">
his Brethren of the Sword (who in this kind love to expre&s;&s;e more <HI>will,</HI> then they can <HI>abi|litie</HI>) undertooke to read them: but indeed could not in any rea&s;onable time. And &s;pying his own name by chance, was greedy to under&s;tand the cau&s;e of its being there, re&s;olving to tickle <HI>Bunge</HI> below, becau&s;e af|ter her help was joyn'd to his, he de&s;cried the wrong, and entreated her to &s;tay there: lea&s;t <HI>Bunge</HI> (urging the ba&s;e cu&s;tom of the Hou&s;e for his excu&s;e) might di&s;grace him for bringing her to &s;uch a Lodging. But &s;he, poore Soul, was willing to be commanded, whil&s;t <HI>Bunge</HI> at his entreaty, and promi&s;e to an&s;wer the Letter, walks with him downe the Staires. Having de&s;cended one Paire, <HI>Bunge</HI> entreated him to di&s;patch the Letter in the next Chamber: in the meane time he would goe up, and di&s;cour&s;e with her about it: for he remembred now he was &s;o commanded by the Gentleman that &s;ent him. <HI>Peeles</HI> fin|gers itch'd to be at his face: but the Roome being towards the Street, agreed not with that purpo&s;e. Therefore he entreated him to vi&s;it the Celler: where (quoth he) having drunke a Health to the Gentleman, you &s;hall goe up and commit your plea&s;ure. The phra&s;e lik'd him well; &s;o down they went. Ju&s;t upon their entring into the Seller Dore,
<PB N="82" REF="46">
<HI>Bung</HI> de&s;ired to be acquainted with his name that he might tell the <HI>VVard</HI> to whom he was &s;o much beholding. He an&s;wered, his name was <HI>Peel,</HI> by profe&s;&s;ion a poor <HI>Drummer:</HI> at w^c^h <HI>Bung</HI> &s;tep'd back whil&s;t his Breech made as many Buttons, as he thought to have broke with drinking. His re&s;cue (which mo&s;t com|monly con&s;i&s;ted in the dexterity of his Heels) was barr'd from him by Five &s;trong Dores. Therefore he pulls up his Spirits, even unto his Tongue: thinking to fright the <HI>Drummer</HI> with <HI>big</HI> words.</P>
<P>Ju&s;t in &s;uch a Celler as this (quoth he) this&mdash;let me &s;ee a little&mdash;I, in &s;uch a one as this, did my weak Arm beat Nine <HI>Rogues;</HI> that would needs enforce me to pledg my Enemies Health. The <HI>Drummer</HI> thought that a <HI>fearfull</HI> Ly, and pre&s;ently &s;aluted him with a Box upon the Ear, &s;econded that with another; which fell'd him to the Ground, and there kikt him. <HI>Bung</HI> &s;corned to re&s;i&s;t, but cryed Murder! murder! help ho! help! The Bawd came thundering down with a brace of Whores, to know what the matter was. <HI>Peel</HI> having acquainted them with the cau&s;e that motiv'd this revenge, they all cryed out, <HI>Geld</HI> the Rogue, geld the <HI>Canniball. Bung</HI> ap|plies him&s;elf once more to be re&s;cu'd by an old Friend (his <HI>Tongue</HI>) and beggs mercy
<PB N="83" REF="46">
from them, &s;wearing he knew not tho&s;e Ver|&s;es were inclo&s;ed in the Paper, which pacifi|ed the Whores: who brought him up to the Street dore, and thru&s;ting him out, did &s;hut it after him. Homewards he creeps with his Face muffled in his Cloak. Beating he did never greatly love: therefore wholly dedi|cates his Studies, how to revenge him&s;elf on the young <HI>Ward,</HI> and <HI>Peel</HI> the <HI>Drummer,</HI> which afterwards he did: but Pre&s;erve the manner how to be related in the next Chapter.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="11" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="84" REF="47">
<HEAD>CHAP. XI.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> takes occa&s;ion to pre&s;ent thy accep|tance with a Character of a <HI>Whore:</HI> and hath graced his expre&s;&s;ion, by the re|lation of <HI>Bung's</HI> mo&s;t witty revenge.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>IN our way of relating <HI>Bung's</HI> revenge, I hold it requi&s;te to pa&s;&s;e through <HI>Turnbal</HI>-Street: and there <HI>admire</HI> (<HI>Cu&s;tom</HI>) which is to be <HI>ignorant</HI> in <HI>Folly:</HI> Not like a hand&s;ome <HI>Novice:</HI> who walks by with his Eies fa&s;tned on his <HI>Back;</HI> prying <HI>carele&s;ly</HI> who looks upon him? who beckens him in? if no body &s;up|plies that expectation, then he begins to hate his own Face, to di&s;commend what before he <HI>prais'd,</HI> as purpo&s;ing to <HI>&s;ell,</HI> like the poor <HI>Stallion,</HI> his ma&s;culine beauty. No Reader; I intend to pick out from the whole rable a <HI>Whore:</HI> and prefer her in a <HI>Character</HI> to thy immaginary view. If thou affect my de&s;crip|tion, thou wilt loath her: &s;uch a &s;trange <HI>Anti|pathie</HI> bears it with its own &s;en&s;e, having (in|deed) cho&s;en a Subject that infects wit. Sup|po&s;e where &s;he &s;tands in a <HI>Red-Wa&s;tcot,</HI> that
<PB N="85" REF="47">
is more out of fa&s;hion then her Face, which was made fifty years before it. No doubt &s;he hath worn a <HI>Gown</HI> too: but that was when the &s;ale of her Beauty could return the co&s;t of it into the Bawds Pur&s;e. Talk with her, and &s;he will bring thee into an <HI>ignorant</HI> Jea|lou&s;ie, or a <HI>Jealous</HI> &s;u&s;pence; who was thy Father? For &s;he &s;landers all Women, to make her &s;elf appear le&s;&s;e common in <HI>compa|ri&s;on:</HI> and u&s;ually in &s;uch ambiguous phra&s;e, which <HI>effemini&s;h</HI> policy affords: as thus. <HI>It may be &s;he is, it may be &s;he is not: but alas, alas, I know what I know, i faith, yet will accu&s;e no body.</HI></P>
<P>She is afraid to go to Church, lea&s;t the Sermon might convert her: and hates the Story of a <HI>decayed</HI> Whore, becau&s;e &s;he affects not melancholly. Her Breath is <HI>&s;trong</HI> enough to <HI>overcome</HI> thy &s;en&s;e of &s;melling, and hath already &s;corch'd up her No&s;e: which to ob|&s;cure, &s;he wears before it a green Curtain. Being naked, &s;he &s;eems an <HI>intire Scabbe;</HI> a great <HI>proportionable Boyle:</HI> and her Clothes be|ing on her, look like <HI>plai&s;ters,</HI> yet this is &s;he who heretofore did <HI>mince</HI> a <HI>&s;tolne</HI> pace as if &s;he <HI>&s;corn'd</HI> Motion: whom <HI>Pride</HI> did become as a full Oath doth a de&s;perate Gallant: that <HI>fichew'd</HI> with a <HI>degenerate</HI> po&s;ture of the Chinne: tripp'd on her agill Toes like a <HI>Kibe|heel'd-Fairie:</HI> that <HI>&s;hreek'd</HI> at the drawing of
<PB N="86" REF="48">
a Knife: &s;woonded at the &s;ight of <HI>fat</HI> Meat: that affected <HI>&s;ingularity</HI> in <HI>gracefull</HI> Oathes, clipp'd the Kings <HI>Engli&s;h:</HI> and &s;eemed <HI>igno|rant</HI> how <HI>rightly</HI> to call that, which <HI>wantonly</HI> &s;he <HI>nicknam'd.</HI> Ogiddy-Headed Time! that do&s;t &s;o delight in alteration: that ha&s;t chang|ed the <HI>&s;hape</HI> of a glorious, hand&s;ome <HI>Curte|zan,</HI> into the <HI>&s;ub&s;tance</HI> of a Ful&s;ome, na&s;ty, &s;tinking <HI>Whore.</HI></P>
<P>But now let our relation pur&s;ue <HI>Bunge:</HI> who within an Hour after he was beaten, return'd unto the <HI>VVard's</HI> Lodging: finding him at his arrivall tickled with a mad Laughter: whil&s;t he carried him&s;elf as alto|gether un&s;en&s;ible of any beating, and de|mands what motiv'd that mirth. The <HI>VVard</HI> mi&s;taking the di&s;&s;imulation, changed his Hu|mour into a &s;adder: asking whether he had delivered the Letter to his Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e? no (quoth <HI>Bung</HI>) &s;he was gone forth to Supper, in the company of a certain Sweet-Heart: but I left it with the <HI>Bawde:</HI> who told me &s;he was to meet them at Eight of the Clock in Old Exchange, and then &s;he would deliver it. The <HI>VVard</HI> &s;uppos'd all this was true: but griev'd that the Ver&s;es were &s;o in&s;ucce&s;&s;ive|ly left in <HI>Peel</HI>'s Lodging: yet in expectation of &s;ome accidentall merriment, he comman|ded him to meet him likewi&s;e in the Ex|change
<PB N="87" REF="48">
at the appointed Hour. <HI>Bung</HI> (pro|mi&s;ing to accompli&s;h his de&s;ires) tooke his leave, and went to a <HI>Taverne,</HI> who&s;e back|Dore enters into <HI>Turnball</HI>-Street: where he wrote a Note to <HI>Peele,</HI> and &s;ent it by a Drawer; accompanied with a Gallon of <HI>Sack.</HI> The Contents of which, de&s;ired his Friend&s;hip, and that by the Vertue of the Wine, he might be licen&s;ed pre&s;ently to &s;peak with him, where they would advi&s;e in compo&s;ing of a Plot, how to be revenged up|on the <HI>VVard.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Peel</HI> having received the Letter, and the <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="indecipherable" EXTENT="1 word"> pre&s;ent, return'd him word, he was &s;orrie for what was pa&s;t, and greatly de&s;ir'd that he would pre&s;ently come thi|ther, to receive part of the Wine, and part of &s;atisfaction. <HI>Bung</HI> was glad his Plot did thrive &s;o well, went thither; and having made <HI>Peele</HI> promi&s;e that he would be in the <HI>Exchange</HI> about Eight of the Clock (to beat the <HI>VVard</HI>) he runnes to the <HI>Poultry</HI>-Coun|ter: where he did Fee a brace of Serjeants to attend <HI>Peel</HI> in <HI>Cheap&punc; Side,</HI> that as he came back from the <HI>Exchange,</HI> they might are&s;t him upon an Action of <HI>Battery.</HI></P>
<P>The Hour of meeting was now at hand, and <HI>Bung</HI> arrived there fir&s;t. But pre&s;ent|ly after him, marched in the <HI>VVard,</HI> ac|companied
<PB N="88" REF="49">
onely with the Gentleman, (of whom we have &s;poken heretofore) who came thither purpo&s;ely to &s;ee the new married couple. Our <HI>revengefull</HI>-Polititi|an perceiv'd now a gro&s;&s;e over&s;ight, in the fir&s;t contrivement of this geere. For whocan &s;uppo&s;e the <HI>VVard</HI> would come thither a|lone? or that having another Gentleman with him, he was not able to re&s;tore more Blowes, then <HI>Peel</HI> could give. Therefore their Backs being turn'd, <HI>Bung</HI> &s;teales out of the next Gate, and runnes almo&s;t as farre as <HI>Paules</HI> in &s;earch of a <HI>Porter.</HI> At la&s;t hee hired one to flie to the <HI>Exchange,</HI> and entreat the Gentleman (relating to him his name, and fa&s;hion of Apparell) to come pre&s;ent|ly to the <HI>Queene's-Armes</HI> by <HI>Holborn</HI>-Bridge: for there (quoth he) you mu&s;t &s;ay his Bro|ther is arriv'd very &s;ick. The <HI>Porter</HI> delive|red his errand effectually&punc; and the Gentle|man (without inquiring who &s;ent that me&s;s|age) did take a ha&s;ty Farewell of the <HI>VVard. Bung</HI> returnes thither again, and finding him walking alone, went to him. By and by in comes <HI>Peel,</HI> and &s;uddenly &s;pyed that Face, which his Fi&s;t did intend to batter: not doubting but <HI>Bung</HI> (according as he had promi&s;ed) would a&s;&s;i&s;t him in the a&s;&s;ault.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t Blow that he be&s;towed upon the
<PB N="89" REF="49">
<HI>VVard,</HI> did &s;o &s;tagger him, that for the pre|&s;ent he was unable to re&s;i&s;t. But <HI>Bung</HI> (ta|king a Key out of his Pocket) rewarded <HI>Peeles</HI> Pate with a prodigall recompence: and in the mean time the <HI>VVard</HI> recovered &s;trength enough, to be his own Avenger. <HI>Peele</HI> felt him&s;elf betray'd to the mercy of two <HI>mercile&s;&s;e</HI> Men: but &s;tood yet &s;tiffe to his tackling, being mo&s;t pittifully maul'd with <HI>Bung</HI>'s Key: who did not forget (nei|ther) to lend &s;ome Seaven or Eight blowes with it, unto the <HI>VVards</HI> face: the which he delivered &s;o cunningly, that the <HI>VVard</HI> thought they came from <HI>Peel;</HI> and cry'd out <HI>murder!</HI> &s;wearing how <HI>Peele</HI> fought with a <HI>Smith</HI>'s <HI>Hammer.</HI> He replies again (with a lowd voice) that it is nothing but a trick to excu&s;e his own treacherie: for I my &s;elf (quoth he) have received Thirteen blowes, able to kill an Oxe. The people now came thronging on to part the Combatants. <HI>Peel</HI> being loath to be brought in publique ex|amination, &s;tole &s;ecretly away. The <HI>VVards</HI> Beaver Hat (bordered with Pearle, and adorn'd with a rich Hatband) lay upon the Ground: which <HI>Bunge</HI> (feeling with his Foot, and favour'd by the dark time of Night) convey'd into his Codpi&s;&s;e. The owner inquires diligently for it, and <HI>Bung</HI>
<PB N="90" REF="50">
&s;eemes more diligent in the recovery: having borrowed a Light of one that &s;tood by him purpo&s;ely to &s;eek it, or rather to <HI>darken</HI> the appearance of his own <HI>hypocritical</HI> Theft, at la&s;t proclaims it to be lo&s;t. Thus whil&s;t controver&s;ies are here decided by a bu&s;ie multitude, the poor <HI>Drummer</HI> (walking homewards) was arre&s;ted, and carried to the Countor. A while after the <HI>Ward,</HI> and <HI>Bung</HI> were licen&s;ed to go home to their Lodgings: for the Con&s;table (whom this hurly-burly drew thither) was contented (&s;ince the Offen&s;ive party could not be found) to commit a <HI>wonder,</HI> by &s;tanding to <HI>rea&s;on.</HI> And our <HI>Ward</HI> in complementall gratulation, went home bare-headed.</P>
<P>The next Morning <HI>Bang</HI>'s appearance was &s;ummon'd to an&s;wer that arre&s;t which was &s;erv'd on <HI>Peele.</HI> He prepares him&s;elf to prove it warrantable, but thir&s;ting for a more full revenge, he entrears an old Friend (who was a meer &s;tranger in <HI>London</HI>) to enter an Action of Debt again&s;t him (in &s;ome un|known name) for Twelve Hundred pounds; which the Knave perform'd, and within an Hour after, departed from the City. <HI>Peel</HI> was clear'd of the fir&s;t Action by asking <HI>Bung</HI> forgivene&s;&s;e: who bought that honour with Four Shillings be&s;tow'd upon a Ju&s;tices
<PB N="91" REF="50">
Clerk. The &s;econd kept &punc;him in the Counter Five daies: untill at la&s;t (having no Adver|&s;arie to declare again&s;t him in the Court) he got his liberty: though he had payed &s;oundly for being a Pri&s;oner. What became of him and his Wife afterwards, I know not. But the <HI>Wards</HI> Face did almo&s;t <HI>enrich</HI> a Surgeon: for <HI>Bung</HI>'s Key had batter'd it into &s;uch an ugly form, that it &s;eem'd ever after a <HI>Bugg-bear</HI> to his own affection.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="12" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="92" REF="51">
<HEAD>CHAP. XII</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> complaines of <HI>Bungs</HI> villanous &s;ervice, intends to be rid of him; declares what him&s;elfe hath &s;pent &s;ince he came to London. And di&s;cour&s;es mo&s;t wittily upon a Booke of his, called; An in|vective again&s;t the Plebeians, and Cittyzens of <HI>London.</HI></P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>Though my Man <HI>Bunge</HI> was po&s;&s;e&s;t with a &s;udden Wit, and enrich'd with all tho&s;e qualities that compo&s;e a perfect <HI>Sharke:</HI> yet <HI>Cu&s;tome</HI> did operat &s;o potently in him, that he could not choo&s;e but co&s;en him&s;elf: which doth impertinently marr tho&s;e parts, that were bad enough before. He per&s;waded him&s;elf how I loved to be cheated of my Mo|ny. <HI>O credulous</HI> Confidence! can <HI>beleif</HI> fa&s;ten on that which <HI>Suppo&s;ition</HI> cannot reach? t'is &s;trange: unle&s;&s;e he &s;trove to make him&s;elfe famous by being &s;ingular in a <HI>new</HI> Opinion. One morning he pre&s;ented me with a counterfeit Hat-band: verily beleeving that I would pay him forty Shillings for it. I mi&s;|liked the price before I knew the qualitie of the Stuffe; carried it to a Gold&s;miths, who
<PB N="93" REF="51">
being a&s;ked whether it was worth &s;o much, laugh'd, and told me it was Copper. Then I return'd home againe, and demanded him, wherefore he went about to cheat me? but he enquir'd, of what? I an&s;wered, of Forty Shillings. Forty Shillings (&s;ay'd he)? that's Money. Money! (replied I) what of that? <HI>Mary</HI> (quoth he) for money I'le cheate my owne Father if I can. A gracious Sonne! but &s;urely his Father begot him by <HI>&s;tealth,</HI> whil&s;t the Servants coming <HI>&s;car'd</HI> him in the Action, for he was both a <HI>Thiefe,</HI> and a <HI>Coward.</HI> When I fir&s;t entertained him&punc; (perceaving me a Stranger in the knowledge of our City fa&s;hi|ons) he told me, that to let him goe in Cloaks linde with Velvet, would be much for my credit. I thankt him heartily for his care, but in the performance appeared an Hereti|que. Such like tricks as the&s;e made me re|&s;olve to part with him the next Quarter Day. And t'was a tardy remedy: for to tell thee the plaine truth, I had by this time (be|ing ju&s;t Ten Months &s;ince I came to <HI>London</HI>) con&s;umed Six &s;core Poundes of my E&s;tate; &s;o there remained but Sixty Pounds behind: which con&s;i&s;ted in the re&s;idue of tho&s;e Jewels, that were yet un&s;olde. And all this proceed|ed through&punc; the prodigall directions of that damnable Rogue. Perhaps thou wilt admire
<PB N="94" REF="52">
(con&s;idering my Pur&s;e was &s;o &s;hallow) how I could take &s;o much out of it, yet never feel the Bottom, never call to mind that I dip'd not my Hand into a Fountaine. T'is true indeed, it could not ever flow, but my Hopes guided me to a flood: &s;uch a one as <HI>Jupiter</HI> made, when he &s;howred down Gold to <HI>Danae.</HI> It encompa&s;t a certaine Ca&s;tle; which I had built in the Aire: who&s;e foun|dation was layd upon a little Book (then newly fini&s;hed) thinking it would have made me rich, both in Credit, and Money. But when conjectures came to the triall, the <HI>Stationer</HI> dur&s;t not buy it, alledging that I was not publiquely knovvn to the World, and how t'is the Authors name which makes a Book &s;ell, not the vvorth of it. Then I an|&s;wered; if it were printed, I &s;hould &s;oone be famous, and I vvas al&s;o contented to honor him vvith my <HI>Maydenhead.</HI> But (quoth he) I am not contented to be &s;o honored. I doe not love to hoy&s;t any. Man high, with my own <HI>Pur&s;e-Strings,</HI> or <HI>stoop</HI> to lift another <HI>up.</HI></P>
<P>This Book vvas intituled <HI>An invective again&s;t the Cittyzens, and Plebeians of London.</HI> It treated of <HI>Plebeians</HI> fir&s;t by rea&s;on of the humble cour&s;e of my proceedings: becau&s;e I ever ob&s;erved to a&s;cend by degrees. Be&s;ides, <HI>Judgment</HI> being once &s;trengthned for <HI>ambiti|ous</HI>
<PB N="95" REF="52">
Study, with the knowledge of <HI>materiall</HI> matter, ea&s;ily climes to apprehend, vvhat othervvays had binne above its reach. I could not choo&s;e but think this Booke vvould pro&s;|per, becau&s;e the Subject &s;avour'd of <HI>Divini|tie:</HI> being made to &s;uppre&s;&s;e uncivill com|motions in the one, and in the other <HI>covetous</HI> abu&s;es.</P>
<P>The <HI>Blebeians</HI> did then much trouble the State, with in&s;olent behaviour. For <HI>Emba&s;&s;a|dors</HI> (pa&s;&s;ing through the Streets) were rude|ly interrupted, pointed, and laugh'd at in ignominious contempt, be&s;eig'd in their Hou&s;es, and founde no <HI>Sanctuarie</HI> in their Offices: but were almo&s;t fain to beg a life of them, who (irrationably) under vale wed it in them&s;elves. The&s;e outrages were mo&s;t commonly committed by the ba&s;e&s;t me chani|call &s;ont: who &s;tilde them&s;elves <HI>Apprentices</HI> to attract more company. When they were once &s;allied forth; they needed no encour|agement to Action, for a ra&s;h &s;elfe will did make them blind to all impediments. Unle&s;&s;e thou wilt &s;uppo&s;e a couple &s;caling up a Wall, whil&s;t another, that &s;tands clo&s;e be|neath them (perceaving they have got the generall applau&s;e, and him&s;elfe to be idle, becau&s;e no <HI>Brick-layer</HI>) &s;erves them with this <HI>flattering</HI> encouragement, <HI>Well done Iack, well</HI>
<PB N="96" REF="53">
<HI>done Dick: by'th Ma&s;&s;e, you are no Cowards: you care not two Strawes for King, nor Kings Mate.</HI></P>
<P>Now &s;ome di&s;contented Foreigners gave out, the&s;e Mutinies did continually revive, by the wilfull permi&s;&s;ion of our City-<HI>Senators:</HI> who&s;e actions reli&s;h much of <HI>Popular</HI> inclina|tion. For Authoritie, or Wealth (being but <HI>fortunatly</HI> atchieved) cannot alter the con&s;ti|tution of the Blood. Yet how&s;oever my cen&s;ure is more charitable: nor can any man &s;uppo&s;e them faulty, but in a <HI>fear&s;ull</HI> conni|vencie at the execution of &s;trict Statutes. Con&s;idering (likewi&s;e) they mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arily have compell'd them, to be under the di&s;po|&s;ure of the Law, before effectuall &s;entence could pa&s;&s;e upon them. And is there any thing more dangerous then to encounter with <HI>armed</HI>-Rebellion? e&s;pecially where the Adver&s;arie is animated with the hope of ine&s;|timable Pillage? no &s;urely. But me thinkes I heare it alledg'd, how divers were caught, yet went unpuni&s;hed: to which I am lo&s;t in a re|ply. For though <HI>exemplarie</HI>-puni&s;hment hath &s;omewhat in it that is unju&s;t, and in particu|lar to the prejudice of &s;ome: yet t'is recom|penced by the generall good of the whole. To deliver a <HI>Character</HI> of this <HI>mon&s;ter</HI> multitu|de, were but ob&s;curely to repre&s;ent unto thy
<PB N="97" REF="53">
view, what them&s;elves (unwilling to hide their own defect) doe manife&s;tly di&s;cover. Notwith&s;tanding, &s;omething we will &s;ay of them.</P>
<P>They are <HI>parlous</HI> in their owne vocati|ons: and proud of that &s;kill which is got|ten meerely by u&s;e, laughing at other Men with a kind of <HI>pittyfull</HI>-di&s;re&s;pect; becau&s;e they are not cunning in a Facultie, which is (indeed) below the de&s;ire of knowledge. They account the Nobilitie, and Gentry, but as &s;uperficiall Creatures: Men that cannot by managing a <HI>Saw</HI> or <HI>Mattock</HI> repleni&s;h a <HI>Double-Jugg.</HI> No nor maintaine life by &s;light of hand. They hold <HI>Schollers</HI> to be (as it were) <HI>Bl'oxford</HI> Men: <HI>unnece&s;&s;ary-Gutts,</HI> that &s;tudy only to grow hungry: and when they are hungry, will devoure <HI>a plaguy deale of Meate,</HI> or &s;o. They runne headlong to a boi&s;terous Action, as though affray'd le&s;t <HI>Con&s;ideration</HI> might overtake them before they have begunne it. But having once begunne, they &s;corne to de&s;i&s;t, untill the old &s;aying be verified. <HI>Every beginning mu&s;t have an ending.</HI> They are the Children of <HI>Report,</HI> compo&s;'d of <HI>newes:</HI> and fed with the noyce of <HI>alteration.</HI> Ten yeares <HI>Peace</HI> doth make Coyne invi&s;i|ble among&s;t them, &s;o that they forget the
<PB N="98" REF="54">
fa&s;hion of a Shilling. Ten yeares <HI>Warrs</HI> makes them call Gold, Durt, and give it the defiance. But now their Swords have binne long ru&s;ty, for want of <HI>Spani&s;h-Throates</HI> to &s;cowre them. They &s;eeme mo&s;t learned in <HI>Vi&s;iognimie,</HI> and make of their <HI>Confidence</HI> a <HI>Per&s;pective,</HI> through which they can beholde a great Mans Heart, &s;ci|tuated in his Face: nay though he be a <HI>Coward,</HI> and have none at all. When they are &s;ick, they e&s;teeme the World to be a <HI>Buble,</HI> a <HI>tran&s;itorie</HI> thing, and all men <HI>mor|tall.</HI> They dye of the &s;ame Religion that the <HI>King</HI> profe&s;&s;es:</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="13" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="99" REF="54">
<HEAD>CHAP. XIII</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> rips open the Hearts of Citty|zens, condemns them ju&s;tly. Builds another Ca&s;tle in the Ayre; and relates the pretie fa&s;hion of it.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>LOndon</HI> was at that time po&s;&s;e&s;t with more &s;everall Humors, than Action could invent ways to expre&s;&s;e them in. High affaires &s;eemed to &s;ucceed diver&s;ly in effect: as though manadg'd by &s;undry in|clinations. And opulent <HI>Cittyzens</HI> drew much <HI>complementall</HI> ob&s;ervance from the Nobilitie. I held always an <HI>envious</HI> An|tipathy with the Sonnes of <HI>Fortune:</HI> there|fore in that Booke accu&s;ed them of divers enormities: which if I &s;hould here re-ite|rate I might be thought <HI>&s;atyricall.</HI> Al|though my entent (by this Booke) is to de|&s;troy that Humor in others. Wherefore thou &s;halt only participate of this my De&s;cription. They are exceeding <HI>covetous;</HI> and the Sinne is in them &s;o <HI>naturall,</HI> &s;o <HI>doatingly</HI> affected, that they neglect all
<PB N="100" REF="55">
<HI>mode&s;t</HI> forme to hide it from a publique ob&s;ervation: excu&s;ing it to their Con&s;ci|ences with a <HI>fearfull</HI> probabilitie of Warr. They never feele <HI>ea&s;e,</HI> but in <HI>Labour</HI> and <HI>trouble.</HI> Tho&s;e that are rich &s;trive to <HI>Gentilize</HI> their Female Of-&s;pring: but evermore pay for that ambition. As <HI>Wealth</HI> exalts them into Office, &s;o they di&s;charge it with their <HI>Pur&s;es,</HI> not with their Braines. Authoritie (though in a low degree) heaves their Heartes into their Mouthes: for they will vent their Thoughts, as if their Lips were opened by a <HI>Priveledge:</HI> peru&s;ing the actions of the King with a <HI>&s;awcy-comment,</HI> and di&s;co|ver a great de&s;ire to mould his Affection in their owne di&s;po&s;ure: though (indeed) they weigh <HI>worth,</HI> like <HI>Gold,</HI> in a payer of Scales: where the <HI>lighte&s;t</HI> peece <HI>a&s;cends,</HI> but the heavie&s;t (which is the be&s;t) remaines below. The politique rea&s;on why they love Peace, is, becau&s;e they hate to <HI>buy</HI> a Warr. They de&s;pi&s;e Warr becau&s;e t'is good &s;leeping in a whole Skinne. Be&s;ides they are not valiant, even to the <HI>Fourth</HI> degree of Compari&s;on, (that is <HI>desperate</HI>); for they weare their Hearts in their Pur&s;|&s;es, like <HI>Cowards,</HI> who going to fight, car|rie their <HI>Ran&s;oms</HI> in their Pockets. They
<PB N="101" REF="55">
alwayes profe&s;&s;e them&s;elves poore, be|cau&s;e t'is a <HI>chargeable</HI>-glory to be <HI>rich</HI> in the Kings Bookes. Their Religion is weake in <HI>effect,</HI> and &s;trong in <HI>forme:</HI> depending much on <HI>Cu&s;tome,</HI> more on <HI>Super&s;tition,</HI> and mo&s;t of all on <HI>Zeale.</HI> But t'is a <HI>politique</HI> Zeale: &s;uch as pre&s;erves Government more then Religion. Or rather an <HI>exem|plarie</HI> Zeale; that doth beget, and warme <HI>Faith</HI> in others, but heates not their owne Soules. Now though our opinion is more <HI>logically</HI> maintain'd; in that we do not ar|gue from <HI>particulars,</HI> but make a <HI>generall</HI> accu&s;ation: yet know (Reader) there have binne many <HI>Cittizens,</HI> who&s;e Virtue lends &s;ome lu&s;ture to their po&s;teritie. Notwith|&s;tanding I averr the Virtue of a good <HI>Citti|zen,</HI> differeth very much from the Virtue of a good <HI>Man.</HI> For the one u&s;eth all vir|tues agreeable with a pure godly life: the other ob&s;erves only the Lawes, which were made to pre&s;erve civill commo|ditie.</P>
<P>But t'is time now that I returne unto my &s;elfe. One Morning (lying in the Bed) I fell deeply to con&s;ider, how I migh accrue profit by the di&s;bur&s;ment of my Ffty Poundes. At la&s;t (according to my old Cu&s;tome) I built another Ca&s;tle in
<PB N="102" REF="56">
the Aire: laying the Foundation on my <HI>Face,</HI> and proper <HI>Per&s;on.</HI> But the &s;ub&s;tance of it, was to furni&s;h my &s;elf with rich Ap|parell: and afterwards a&s;&s;ault the di&s;po|&s;ition of &s;ome <HI>Wealthy</HI> Lady. For my Man <HI>Bung</HI> had often told me, that divers Gen|tlemen (whom he knew) were bravely maintained by their <HI>Mi&s;tre&s;&s;es.</HI> O &s;uch fruitfull Land did I de&s;ire to till! which makes <HI>Labour</HI> a delightfull <HI>&s;port,</HI> and re|quites <HI>ea&s;e</HI> with Gold. As for Divinity, I would not think on it, le&s;t it &s;hould make me melancholy. Be&s;ides (like a damn'd <HI>Rogue</HI>) I held <HI>Whoredome</HI> to be the holie&s;t Sinne that is: becau&s;e <HI>Repentance</HI> cea&s;eth on the Heart, pre&s;ently after it is committed.</P>
<P>Now, art thou &s;trangely de&s;irous to know the manner of my proceedings? to under&s;tand in what kind I did &s;hape this purpo&s;ed adventure? I'le tell thee: but fir&s;t prepare to admire my Capacity, for thy knowledge never owned &s;uch a par|lous Plot before. Which was, that I &s;hould go to &s;ee a Play in <HI>Black-Fryars:</HI> and there (by all nece&s;&s;ary con&s;equences, or ra|ther in&s;pired a&s;&s;urance) &s;ome rich Lady would ca&s;t her Eie on me, and the &s;ame night me on her. Be not thou a&s;toni&s;h'd
<PB N="103" REF="56">
Reader, neither &s;uppo&s;e it impo&s;&s;ible that Nature can be &s;o opulent, or he that is mortall, po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e &s;uch a &s;trong Brain. For (a|la&s;s Man!) heretofore I was as full of the&s;e learned-Stratagems, as an Egge is full of meat.</P>
<P>Fifty Pounds accoutred me from Top to Toe: having been very thrifty in laying out my Money, and carefull to refu&s;e <HI>Bunges</HI> advice, for he brought me a <HI>Tay|lor,</HI> whom Cu&s;tome had made to &s;teale from him&s;elf. A Slave that the Devill dur&s;t not tru&s;t with his old Clothes; no, though he might gaine his Soul in lue of the Theft.</P>
<P>Thus like a true <HI>Engli&s;h-man</HI> (who wears his Mother too much in his Appa|rell) I enter'd the <HI>Theater,</HI> and &s;at upon the Stage: making low Congies to divers Gentlemen; not that I knew them, but I was confident, they would requite me in the &s;ame kinde: which made the Specta|tors &s;uppo&s;e us of very olde, and fami|liar acquaintance. Be&s;ides (that I might appear no <HI>Novice</HI>) I ob&s;erv'd all fa&s;hio|nable Cu&s;tomes; As delivering my Sute to a more apparant view, by hanging the Cloak upon one Shoulder: or let|ing it fall (as it were) by chance. I &s;tood
<PB N="101" REF="57">
up al&s;o at the end of every <HI>Act,</HI> to &s;alute tho&s;e, whom I never &s;aw before. Two <HI>Acts</HI> were fini&s;hed before I could di&s;co|ver any thing, either for my Comfort then, or worth my relation now. Unle&s;&s;e it were <HI>punycall</HI> ab&s;urdity in a Country-Gentleman: who was &s;o caught with the naturall action of a Youth (that repre|&s;ented a ravi&s;h'd Lady) as he &s;wore a|lowd, he would not &s;leep untill he had killed her ravi&s;her: and how 'twas not fit &s;uch Rogues &s;hould live in a Common|wealth. This made me laugh, but not merry.</P>
<P>Anon after, I &s;pied a Gentlewomans Eie, fix'd full upon me. Hope and De&s;|paire threw me into &s;uch Di&s;tractions, that I was about to bid a Boy (who per|&s;onated <HI>Cupid</HI> in the Play) to &s;hoot at her with his counterfeit Arrow. But &s;he pre|&s;ently di&s;claimed me her Object: and with the like incon&s;tancy gaz'd upon a|nother. About the beginning of the Fourth <HI>Act,</HI> my Face with&s;tood a fre&s;h encoun|ter, given me by a Ladies Eie, who&s;e Seate oppo&s;ed mine. She look'd &s;tedfa&s;t on me, till the Play ended; &s;eeming to &s;urvey my Limbs with amorous curio&s;i|ty: whil&s;t I advanced them all, to encoun|ter
<PB N="105" REF="57">
her approbation. A great de&s;ire I had to &s;ee her Face: which &s;he di&s;covered, by unma&s;quing it to take her leave of a Gen|tleman. But if ever I beheld one &s;o ill|favour'd? do thou abhorre my Book. She look'd like <HI>December,</HI> in the mid&s;t of <HI>A|pril,</HI> old and crabbed in her Youth. Her No&s;e &s;tood towards the <HI>South-Ea&s;t</HI> point: and <HI>Snot</HI> had fretted a prepo&s;trous <HI>Chan|nell</HI> in the mo&s;t remote corner of her Lip. Sure &s;he was cha&s;t, <HI>cha&s;t</HI> becau&s;e <HI>defor|med:</HI> and her <HI>deformitic</HI> (repugnant to the common cour&s;e of <HI>Nature</HI>) might beget that <HI>Cha&s;titie:</HI> but in whom? in others, not in her &s;elf; unle&s;&s;e <HI>Nece&s;&s;itie</HI> did force it. For no doubt &s;he would be as leacherous as the Mountaine-<HI>Goate,</HI> had not Natures qualmi&s;hne&s;&s;e proved a &s;trong contradiction to her de&s;ire: who heaved the Gorge, at her <HI>imperfect</HI> per|fecting: therefore had no Stomach to make a Man fitting her embracements. Yet &s;he wore <HI>Jewells,</HI> for the which I could willingly have ki&s;s'd her in the <HI>dark.</HI> And perhaps too (by <HI>guilded</HI> provocation) &s;up|plied the Office of a Husband.</P>
<P>Her ugline&s;&s;e made me &s;uppo&s;e that nothing could be too ba&s;e for her ac|ceptance: therefore I (following her
<PB N="106" REF="58">
down the Staires) re&s;olved to di&s;cover a good-will to her, either by a wanton ge&s;ture of my Body, or whi&s;pering in her Ear ju&s;t as &s;he came forth into the Street, (her U&s;her being &s;tep'd a&s;ide to comple|ment with parting Company) I proffer'd my &s;ervice to attend her home, if &s;he mi&s;&s;ed any of her Friends. She &s;u&s;pecting that I thought her to be a Whore, told me aloud I was much mi&s;taken. Her Brother (unknown to me) &s;tood behind us, and asked her; what the matter was? <HI>M'arry,</HI> (quoth &s;he) this Gentleman takes me for &s;ome common Creature. He with all violent dexterity &s;trucke me on the Face; and afterwards went about to draw his Sword. But I &s;lunk through the pre&s;&s;e of people, and very <HI>tamely</HI> conveied my &s;elfe home. My Man <HI>Bunge</HI> (who atten|ded there all the Play-time, to &s;ave char|ges) &s;aw this: and heard the <HI>Young-Gal|lant</HI> &s;wear (after I was gone) if ever he met me, he would make my Heart the <HI>Scabbard</HI> of his Sword. The&s;e woful tydings hee brought to my Chamber, &s;o that my co&s;tly <HI>Experiment</HI> was now concluded, and my glorious Garments altogether u&s;ele&s;&s;e. For I dur&s;t not vi|&s;it <HI>Theaters</HI> any more, le&s;t I &s;hould
<PB N="107" REF="58">
meete with him, or Women el&s;e|where, as fearfull of the like entertain|ment.</P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="14" TYPE="chapter">
<HEAD>CHAP. XIIII.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM</HI> mentions his proceedings a|gain&s;t &s;ome of the Nobilitie, and what &s;ucce&s;&s;e he had: afterwards (in a Pam|phlet) di&s;covers all the defects of his owne penning: &s;ends <HI>Bunge</HI> to &s;ell it, who&s;e bad adventures mooves him to rayle on Fate.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>Tu&s;h! hang up <HI>Sadne&s;&s;e!</HI> as a thing (indeed) only fit for the Gallowes, whereto each condemn'd <HI>Thiefe,</HI> brings as little as he can, lea&s;t it might deprive him of a minutes life, &s;o cheate the <HI>Hangman</HI> of his Fee. There remained a way as yet untroden on; a <HI>high</HI>-way too: thou appre|hend&s;t me Reader: My <HI>Pen</HI> never had to doe with the <HI>Nobilitie,</HI> whereof one was mo&s;t eminent in high favor, &s;o con&s;equent|ly in vulgar Hate. For vulgar hatred pro|ceeds
<PB N="108" REF="59">
from <HI>Envy.</HI> Him, and all his Kind|red did I make progre&s;&s;e through <HI>Fidlers</HI> No&s;es: but in Songs of &s;uch fortunate compo&s;ure, as in halfe a <HI>Terme</HI> made a whole Con&s;ort <HI>U&s;urers. Bunge</HI> by di&s;per|&s;ing Nine, gathered together Five and Thirty Shillings. Five he retained for &s;wearing to his dull Chapmen, they were well pen'd; the re&s;t I receav'd with great joy, being the fir&s;t time I &s;old my Wit for Money.</P>
<P>The&s;e <HI>Songs</HI> were &s;ea&s;ond with bitter accu&s;ation, and not in &s;uch <HI>hypocriticall</HI> phra&s;e, as doth di&s;gui&s;e Sen&s;e from com|mon Capacities, but &s;tuft with <HI>immode&s;t</HI> bluntne&s;&s;e. Enquire not what ground I had for this action, &s;ince there was &s;o little that I beg thou would&s;t not &s;tand upon't: and apprehend Reader (by way of &s;ecrecy) that <HI>Satyri&s;ts</HI> (like Doggs) barke mo&s;t at Men they know not: the rea&s;on lurks in Nature. <HI>Report</HI> is their chiefe <HI>Intelligencer:</HI> therefore their accu|&s;ation never &s;ingles out Vice in any par|ticular Man, but ob&s;erving the complexi|on and qualitie of the per&s;ons make their generall aime at what is mo&s;t probable to be hitten. This project was as &s;hort liv'd as my other: for arriving at his Eare
<PB N="109" REF="59">
(whom they too much concern'd) the <HI>Fid|lers</HI> were &s;ent to Pri&s;on, where they &s;ung like Birds in Cages, to the tune of <HI>&ocirc; wo|full dumps!</HI> and <HI>Bunge</HI> (who was pur&s;u'd by a Warrant) play'd lea&s;t in &s;ight.</P>
<P><HI>Invention</HI> was never barren, when it coupled with <HI>Nece&s;&s;itie.</HI> In two Weekes &s;pace I fini&s;hed a little Pamphlet, that treated of Engli&s;h <HI>Oratory;</HI> collecting all the defects, in my owne Works, which after I had derided, were expo&s;'d to pub|lique laughter. Among&s;t the re&s;t I ac|knowledg'd an <HI>affectation</HI> in phra&s;e; where Nature (confident of her owne abilities) too much de&s;pi&s;ed Art. The Second was that in my in&s;erted Tales (which over|&s;wiftly pur&s;ued one another) I &s;ometimes lo&s;t the materiall relation, by finding Jea&s;ts. Thirdly I accu&s;'d my <HI>Parenthe&s;is</HI> of multiplicitie and length: which troubled the Reader to joyne the divided &s;en&s;e, and recover his own breath.</P>
<P>Late after Supper I commanded <HI>Bunge</HI> to carry it unto a <HI>Stationer,</HI> and name &s;ome other Author, who&s;e authoritie might ad|vantage the &s;ale. He marches to the Shop, and Fathers it on a great <HI>Divine,</HI> who in his Youth, begot many of like complexion: and as bad luck would have it (being new|ly
<PB N="110" REF="60">
come from the Country) enterd there to buy Bookes. The <HI>Stationer</HI> wellcom'd him, &s;aying; I hope you will be more rea|&s;onable then your Man, in the price of this Pamphlet, con&s;idering the poore bargaine I had of the la&s;t. What Man? what Pamphlet, quoth the Doctor? <HI>Bunge</HI> (who&s;e apprehen&s;ion was as quick as his Feet) left them to admire at his cheating enterpri&s;e: ran up Saint <HI>Martins</HI>-Lane, and from thence to little <HI>Brittaine:</HI> where he proffer'd it to another, for Three Pounds, but return'd home loaden with an old an&s;wer; that their Shops were too full of &s;uch triviall &s;tuffe. A truth po|tent o're belief! For every <HI>Coxcombe</HI> that hath &s;o much <HI>unfortunate</HI> wit, to know his own imperfections, will give Money to have them printed.</P>
<P>But O in&s;upportable mi&s;ery! can I thrive in no cour&s;e? what rigled <HI>Fu&s;&s;e;</HI> dry-dugg'd, mangy Witch, produc't me from the Womb vvith horrid imprecati|ons? what &s;ini&s;ter <HI>Planet</HI> govern'd at my Nativity? O <HI>Fortune!</HI> thou Whore! thou Bitch! more fickle then <HI>Incon&s;tancy!</HI> who&s;e <HI>Alm'ner</HI> is the Southern Wind, who&s;e Wheele is made of a Womans <HI>Brain-Pan.</HI> Though I had been born a Mon&s;ter, left a
<PB N="11" REF="60">
Begger; yet &s;hap'd &s;o ugly as might fright <HI>Compa&s;&s;ion</HI> from comming near me with her Almes: doom'd to grow old in mi&s;ery, to live till <HI>Time</HI> had made me a &s;econd <HI>Cripple,</HI> who knowes but kind <HI>Nece&s;&s;ity</HI> would have turn'd to <HI>Patience</HI> in me: but here <HI>Patience</HI> mu&s;t become a <HI>Miracle:</HI> Since I am di&s;carded where probability crown'd my Hopes, and might &s;educe <HI>unbeliefe</HI> her &s;elf, to <HI>confidence.</HI></P>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 N="15" TYPE="chapter">
<PB N="112" REF="61">
<HEAD>CHAP. XV.</HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P><HI>NIM's</HI> Ho&s;te&s;&s;e denies to tru&s;t him, he fa&s;ts two Daies, pawnes his Clothes, then re&s;olving to part with <HI>Bunge,</HI> &s;ends for him to a Taverne, and gives, him learned Coun&s;ell; but after <HI>Bunges</HI> replie, he doth change his minde and returnes with him to his Patrons Heir, promi&s;ing (on a &s;mooth con|dition) to ble&s;&s;e this Booke with a &s;econd Part.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<P>Co&s;tly experiments, and <HI>Bunges</HI> atten|dance had &s;o impoveri&s;hed my Pur&s;e, that I wanted to &s;upply my Stomack. I did owe my Ho&s;te&s;&s;e al&s;o for a Months diet; which fayling to pay (according to my promi&s;e) and &s;he perceaving I had few vi&s;its from City Friends, urg'd her to &s;ay one Morning, &s;he would tru&s;t me no longer So that my la&s;t refuge con&s;i&s;ted in pawing my Clothes, which my Childi&s;h di&s;po&s;ition (never made impudent by want) dur&s;t not attempt. Halfe an Houre
<PB N="113" REF="61">
before Dinner, and Supper, I &s;ent <HI>Bunge</HI> upon &s;ome frivolous errant: in the meane time &s;lunke forth, walk'd out a Meale, and returned picking my Teeth, hoping to invent a &s;hift le&s;&s;e di&s;gracefull. But two dayes fa&s;ting, and his grim looks at home, made me weary of &s;uch mode&s;ty: &s;o that at Night (when there was nobody with|in but a little Boy) I ran to <HI>Charter</HI> Hou&s;e|lane: where I walk'd to and fro, by a <HI>Broakers</HI> Shope, halfe an Houre, before Cowardly reputation would &s;uffer me to enter. At la&s;t in I went: and de&s;ired the the <HI>Broaker,</HI> his Man might goe home with me to fetch Two Sutes of Apparell. He granted my reque&s;t, and the things be|ing packed up before, we &s;oone returnd, but could not borrow above Eighteene poundes, upon that which co&s;t me Fifty: whereof Twelve Shillings they took back for regi&s;tring.</P>
<P>Thus my Heart being &s;omewhat lightned by the weight of my Pur&s;e, I went to a Taverne that was neere my Lodging, and &s;ent a <HI>Drawer</HI> home to at|tend <HI>Bung's</HI> arrivall, that he might fetch him, purpo&s;ing now to di&s;mi&s;&s;e his &s;er|vice, accompany the next Wind to <HI>Gell|derland,</HI> and there &s;erve in <HI>Garri&s;on.</HI> I &s;atis|fied my Hunger, with <HI>Cerberus</HI> his Diet
<PB N="114" REF="62">
(Sopps) which being made of rich Sack halfe fox'd me before he came. So &s;oone as he had enter'd the Roome he &s;wore him|&s;elfe out of breath. I demanded the cau&s;e, Why Sir (quoth he) is the Ayre food for Men? or did you &s;uppo&s;e me a <HI>Cha|melion?</HI> I excu&s;'d all by urging his owne Language, for he told me once: it was the fa&s;hion for <HI>Servingmen</HI> to di&s;|bur&s;e Money for their diet, and require it when their Ma&s;ters <HI>Exechequer</HI> was able to repay. So having commanded a <HI>Gallon</HI> of Wine, and the <HI>Drawers</HI> ab&s;ence, I bad him &s;it, drink, and expect alteration. By that time I had &s;har'd halfe the Wine, a &s;trange humor po&s;&s;e&s;t my Brain, and be|got rare <HI>imaginations!</HI> &s;uch as fool'd <HI>Don-Quixot,</HI> uttering in a lamentable veine this <HI>high</HI> and <HI>mighty</HI> &s;en&s;e.</P>
<P><HI>O Bunge!</HI> my Bre&s;t hath entertain'd new <HI>Tennants</HI> &s;ince fir&s;t I own'd thy &s;ervice, <HI>Thoughts</HI> of too tall a &s;tature, &s;uch as &s;corn'd tho&s;e humble Roofs, which the plaine Country held as <HI>gawdy</HI> fa&s;hion, therefore went from me to change their Man&s;ions: but returne maimed, able in nothing, unle&s;&s;e to affirme the Proverb; <HI>Pride will have a fall.</HI> Know <HI>Oliver!</HI> I am made an experiment by cruell <HI>Fate,</HI> to trie within a Haires breadth the &s;ufferance of
<PB N="115" REF="62">
a Man, cro&s;&s;'d in all de&s;igns with &s;trange prevention. Thou art of di&s;po&s;ition quick, and &s;ubtill, and ha&s;t di&s;cern'd the World with a di&s;creet Eie. Thy <HI>Experience</HI> is of a full Age, and mu&s;t be now thy Ma&s;ter, thou no more my Servant. This health to thy good Fortunes&mdash;There's thy Wages; due &s;ince the la&s;t Quarter: which with &s;ome advice (&s;ent from my love) is all I can be&s;tow.</P>
<P>When thou think&s;t upon thy poore fortunes, compare them with a meaner Mans: for &s;o thou may&s;t le&s;&s;en in thy &s;elfe the greatne&s;&s;e of an other, and by that aggravate thine own. The <HI>Plebeian</HI> who&s;e naturall Spirit is humbled with a coor&s;e Prenti&s;hip, &s;trives for a <HI>may&s;tery</HI> though it be only of his Trade. Doe not enrich thy &s;elfe with a <HI>bawdy</HI>-indu&s;try, nor occa&s;ion thy Ma&s;ters folly by thy apt pre&s;entment of it. Sooth him not in's drinke; nor by admiring his unconquer'd lookes, tell him t'is a <HI>hand&s;ome</HI> Vice. Strive to make him more acquainted with thy privacy, then thy &s;elfe with his &s;ecrets. Be not impudent in jea&s;ting, for that cheats thy Wit of her reward not procuring laugh|ter, but <HI>deri&s;ion:</HI> though the fir&s;t be the true applau&s;e. Be not proude, for <HI>Time</HI> doth infect the owner of that Sinne with
<PB N="116" REF="63">
&s;uch an <HI>ignorance,</HI> that he &s;hall &s;carce know him&s;elfe. The <HI>gawdy</HI> Servant beg|gers his Pur&s;e, to make his Ma&s;ters rich: for <HI>Fa&s;hion,</HI> and comely thrift, bids a plain Cloake u&s;her a golden <HI>Livory.</HI> Buy not the envy of thy Fellowes, with his favour: nor lo&s;e it by pre&s;uming on't. Let not the poore Tennant ob&s;erve thee as his Landlords Heir; whil&s;t thou with a &s;awcy di&s;tance of lame &s;tate, &s;trengthne&s;t his credulitie. Be hone&s;t in all things, for &s;o thou may&s;t live, to be&s;tow this coun&s;ell on a Servant of thy owne, and end thy dayes in peace. When thou &s;halt chance to talke of me hereafter, clean&s;e my <HI>Fame</HI> with hiding tho&s;e defects, that &s;hew me humane, and my <HI>Fortune</HI> blind. Goe, be happy.</P>
<P>All this while he was a greedy Audi|tor, but perceaving me about to take my <HI>ultimum vale,</HI> &s;teps up and replies thus. Sir, we are &s;o tender of our outward cre|dit, that <HI>Nece&s;&s;itie</HI> is never di&s;cover'd, un|till it di&s;covers it &s;elfe, I meane thorough the Ellbowes: but yours is not &s;o little as to e&s;cape my &s;ight, I under&s;tood the cau&s;e why you imploy'd me about impertinent errants: though you expre&s;t &s;mall charitie, and le&s;&s;e <HI>Phy&s;ick,</HI> to pre&s;cribe walking for an empty Stomack, when no &s;atisfaction
<PB N="117" REF="63">
in meate, wellcom'd my returne. Neither was my fearfull Experience (feeling even now the lightne&s;&s;e of your Trunke) igno|rant how, and where it had for&s;ooke its weight. The tract and cour&s;e of povertie I have often traced, and know &s;he is mo&s;t undone in her reliefe. A pox upon your grave coun&s;ell! which is fram'd as though proceeding from a beggerly <HI>Patriarke.</HI> No advice is worthy of acceptance, but what accompanies a liberall Hand: t'is Money that makes a man able to keepe it. You direct me how to behave my &s;elfe in &s;er|vice, when I have no Ma&s;ter: an enter|pri&s;e weake and Childi&s;h; ju&s;t like your actions, &s;ince you became a <HI>Londoner:</HI> which if pre&s;ented to the World in Hi&s;|tory, would beget more laughter then e&s;teem. Come if you will &s;eaze on my ad|vice, add unto your Money Fifty Pounds: furni&s;h me for a journey to the Court: where, by Wit, I will get relation to &s;ome Man of Ranke: grow a prompt <HI>intelligen|cer;</HI> and make you a <HI>Satyri&s;t.</HI> Such a one as Kings with <HI>flatterie</HI> &s;hall be glad to &s;i|lence. A plague on all beggarly occupa|tions! I affect them not.</P>
<P>Now Reader, judge thou whether this Rogue was not able to &s;educe a Novice. I could &s;ooner eate Iron then part with him:
<PB N="118" REF="64">
but the next Morning, we &s;at in con&s;ulta|tion how to get this Money. At la&s;t it was re&s;olv'd I &s;hould counterfeit my &s;elfe to be lately Knighted, and he ride with me to my <HI>Patrons</HI> Heir: adding on all occa&s;i|ons <HI>Sir,</HI> unto my Chri&s;tian-name. But &s;tay awhile, and let thy memory returne, unto the la&s;t part of our Fourth Chapter: where I threatned to make my acquain|tance co&s;tly unto a Clothier; that overtook me on the high-way. He often vi&s;ited my Lodging, and now I requited him by bor|rowing his <HI>Gelding</HI> (worth Fourteene poundes) to take the ayre as far as <HI>Fullham</HI> but indeed detaind him a longer Iourney, and bought a Nagg for my Man <HI>Bunge.</HI> I riding like a <HI>Knight-errant.</HI></P>
<P>But how my <HI>Patron's</HI> Heir entertain'd me, when I return'd, and all the re&s;t of my occurences, I am re&s;olv'd to publi&s;h with great care, and indu&s;try. Which if you ever meane to &s;ee, invoke the powers above, that what's already written may take him, who&s;e acceptance makes my labor, ea&s;e: who&s;e command (by I wot not what in&s;tinct) ties my Soule to a more <HI>delightfull</HI> &s;ervice, then either <HI>Gaine,</HI> or popular applau&s;e.</P>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
<PB REF="64">
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
