Witt against wisdom, or, A panegyrick upon folly penn'd in Latin by Desiderius Erasmus ; render'd into English.

A PANEGYRICK UPON FOLLY Declamation-wise.

FOLLY speaks.

HOW slightly soever I am esteemed in the common vogue of the world, (for I well know how disingenuously Folly is decryed even by those who are themselves the greatest fools) yet it is from my influence alone that the whole Universe receives her ferment of mirth and jollity: Of which This may be urged as a con∣vincing argument, in that as soon as I appeared to speak before this numerous Assembly, all their countenances were guilded o're with a lively sparkling pleasantness: You soon welcomed me with so encouraging a look you spurr'd me on with so chearfull a Hum, that truly in all appear∣ance you seem now flushed with a good dose of

reviving Nectar, when as just before you sate drousie and melancholly, as if you were lately come out of some Hermits cell. But as it is usual, that as soon as the Sun peeps from her Ea∣stern bed, and draws back the curtains of the darksom night, or as when after a hard winter the restorative Spring breaths a more enlivening air, Nature forthwith changes her apparrel, and all things seem to renew their age; so at the first sight of me, you all unmasque, and appear in more lively colours. That therefore which expert Orators can scarce effect by all their little artifice of Eloquence, to wit, a raising the attentions of their auditors to a composedness of thought, This a bare look from me has commanded. The reason why I appear in this odd kind of garb you shall soon be informed of, if for so short a while you will but have the patience to lend me an ear; yet not such an one as you are wont to hearken with to your reverend Preachers, but as you listen withall to Mountebanks, Buffoons, and Merry-Andrews; in short, such as formerly were fastned to Midas, as a punishment for his affront to the God Pan. For I am now in a humour to act a while the Sophist, yet not of that sort who un∣dertake the drudgery of tyrannizing over School∣boys, and teach a more than womanish knack of brawling; but in imitation of those antient ones, who to avoid the scandalous Epithete of Wise, preferr'd this title of Sophists; the task of these was to celebrate the worth of Gods and Heroes. Prepare therefore to be entertained with a Pa∣negyrick, yet not upon Hercules, Solon, or any

other Grandee, but on my self, that is, upon Folly.

And here I value not their censure that pretend it is foppish and affected for any person to praise himself: yet let it be as silly as they please, if they will but allow it needful: And indeed what is more befitting than that Folly should be the trumpet of her own praise, and dance after her own pipe? For who can set me forth better than my self, or who can pretend to be so well acquainted with my condition?

And yet farther I may safely urge, that all this is no more than the same with what is done by several seemingly great and wise men, who with a new fashioned modesty employ some paltry Orator or scribling Poet, whom they bribe to flatter them with some high-flown character, that shall consist of meer lies and shams: and yet the persons thus extoll'd shall briste up, and Peacock∣like bespread their plumes, while the impudent Parasite magnifies the poor wretch to the skies, and proposes him as a complete pattern of all virtues, from each of which he is yet as far di∣stant as Heaven it self from Hell: What's all this in the mean while, but the tricking up a Daw in stoln feathers, a labouring to change the Blacka∣mores hue, and the drawing on a Pigmie's frock over the shoulders of a Giant.

Lastly, I verifie the old observation, that al∣lows him a right of praising himself, who has no body else to do it for him: For really I cannot but admire at that ingratitude shall I term it, or blockishness of mankind, who when they all-wil∣lingly

pay to me their utmost devoir, and freely acknowledge their respective obligations; that notwithstanding this there should have been none so grateful or complaisant as to have bestowed on me a commendatory Oration, especially when there have not been wanting such as at a great ex∣pence of sweat and loss of sleep, have in elaborate speeches given high Encomiums to Tyrants, A∣gues, Flies, Baldness, and such like trumperies.

I shall entertain you with a hasty and unpre∣meditated, but so much the more natural discours; my venting it ex tempore I would not have you think proceeds from any principles of vain-glory, by which ordinary Orators square their attempts, who (as it is easie to observe) when they are de∣livered of a Speech that has been thirty years a conceiving, nay perhaps at last none of their own, yet they'l swear they wrot it in a great hurry, and upon very short warning: whereas the reason of my not being provided before hand, is only be∣cause it was alway my humour constantly to speak that which lies uppermost. Next, let no one be so fond as to imagine that I should so far stint my invention to the method of other Pleaders, as first to define, and then divide my subject, i. e. my self. For it is equally hazardous to attempt the crowd∣ing her within the narrow limits of a Definition whose nature is of so diffusive an extent, or to mangle and disjoyn That, to the adoration where∣of all Nations unitedly concur. Beside, to what purpose is it to lay down a Definition for a faint resemblance and meer shadow of me, while ap∣pearing here personaily you may view me at a

more certain light? And if your eye-sight fail not, you may at first blush discern me to be her whom the Greeks term 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the Latins Stultitia.

But why need I have been so impertinent as to have told you This, as if my very Looks did not sufficiently betray what I am, or supposing any be so credulous as to take me for some sage Matron or Goddess of Wisdom, as if a single glance from me would not immediately correct their mistake, while my Visage, the exact reflex of my Soul, would supply and supersede the trouble of any other confessions: For I appear alway in my na∣tural colours, and an unartificial dress, and never let my face pretend one thing, and my heart con∣ceal another: Nay, and in all things I am so true to my Principles, that I cannot be so much as counterfeited even by those who challenge the name of Wits, yet indeed are no better than Jack∣anapes trick'd up in gawdy cloaths, and Asses strutting in Lions skins; and how cunningly so ere they carry it, their long ears appear, and be∣tray what they are. These in troth are very rude, and disingenuous, for while they apparently be∣long to my party, yet among the vulgar they are so ashamed of my relation, as to cast it in others dish for a shame and reproach: Wherefore since they are so eager to be accounted wise, when in truth they are extremely silly, what if to give them their due I dubb them with the title of wise fools: And herein they copy after the example of some modern Orators, who swell to that pro∣portion of conceitedness, as to vaunt themselves for so many Giants of Eloquence, if with a dou∣ble

tongu'd fluency they can plead indifferently for either side, and deem it a very doughty ex∣ploit, if they can but enterlard a Latin sentence with some Greek word, which for seeming gar∣nish they croud in at a venture; and rather than be at a stand for some cramp words, they'l fur∣bish up a long scroul of old obsolete terms out of some musty author, and foist them in to amuse the Reader with, that those who understand them may be tickled with the happiness of being ac∣quainted with them, and those who understand them not, the less they know, the more they may admire: Whereas it has been alway a custom to those of our side to contemn and undervalue whatever is strange and unusual, while those that are better conceited of themselves will nod, and smile, and prick up their ears, that they may be thought easily to apprehend that, of which per∣haps they do not understand one word. And so much for This, pardon the Digression, now I re∣turn.

Of my Name I have informed you, Sirs, what additional Epithete to give you I know not, ex∣cept you'l be content with that of Most Foolish; for under what more proper appellation can the Goddess Folly greet her Devotes▪ But since there are few acquainted with my family, and original, He now give you some account of my Extraction.

First then, my Father was neither the Chaos, nor Hell, nor Saturn, nor Iupiter, nor any of those old, worn out, Grandfire Gods, but Plutus, the very same that, maugre Homer, Hesiod nay inspite of Iove himself, was the primary Father

of the Universe: at whose alone beck for all ages Religion and Civil Policy have been successively undermined and reestablished: by whose power∣ful influence War, Peace, Empire, Debates, Ju∣stice, Magistracy, Marriage Leagues, Compacts, Laws, Arts, (I've almost run my self out of breath, but) in a word all affairs of Church and State, and business of private concern are several∣ly ordered and administred: without whose as∣sistance all the Poets gang of Deitics, nay I may be so bold as to say, the very Major-domo's of Heaven, would either dwindle into nothing, or at least be confined to their respective homes, with∣out any ceremonies of devotional address: whom∣ever he combats with as an enemy, nothing can be armour-proof against his assaults; and who∣soever he sides with as a friend, may grapple at even hand with Iove, and all his bolts. Of such a Father I may well brag: And he begot me, not of his brain as Iupiter did the Hag Pallas, but of a pretty young Nymph, fam'd f or wit no less than beauty: and this feat was not done amidst the embraces of dull nauseous Wedlock, but what gave a greater gust to the pleasure it was done at a stoll'n bout, as we may modestly phrase it. But to prevent your mistaking me, I would have you understand, that my Father was not that Plutus in Aristophanes, old, dry, wither'd, sapless, and blind; but the same in his younger and brisker days, and when his veins were more impregnated, and the heat of his youth somewhat higher infla∣med by a chirping cup of Nectar, which for a whet to his lust he had just before drank very

freely of at a merry-meeting of the Gods. And now presuming you may be inquisitive after my Birth-place, (the quality of the place we are born in being now look'd upon as a main ingre∣dient of Gentility) I were born neither in the floating Delos, nor on the frothy Sea, nor in any of these privacies, where too forward Mothers are wont to retire for an undiscovered delivery, but in the Fortunate Islands, where all things grow without the toil of husbandry, wherein there is no drudgery, no distempers, no old age, where in the fields grow no Daffadillies, Mallows, Onions, Pease, Beans, or such kind of trash; but there give equal divertisement to our sight and smelling, Rue, All-heal, Bugloss, Marjoram. Herb of Life, Roses, Violets, Hyacinth, and such like fragrancies as perfume the gardens of Adonis. And being born amongst these delights I did not like other infants come crying into the world, but perk't up and laugh'd immediately in my Mothers face. And there is no reason I should envy Iove for having a She-goat to his Nurse, since I were more creditably suckled by two jolly Nymphs; the name of the first Drunkenness, one of Bacchus's off-spring, the other Ignorance the daughter of Pan, both which you may here be∣hold among several others of my Train and At∣tendants, whose particular names if you would fain know, I'le give you in short. This who goes with a mincing gate, and holds up her head so high, is Self-love. She that looks so spruce, and makes such a noise and bustle, is Flattery. That other, which sits hum drum, as if she were

half asleep, is call'd Forgetfulness. She that leans on her elbow, and sometime yawningly stretches out her arms, is Laziness. This that wears a plighted garland of flowers, and smells so perfu∣med, is Pleasure. The other, which appears in so smooth a skin, and pampred up flesh, is Sensu∣ality. She that stares so wildly, and rolls about her eys, is Madness. As to those two Gods whom you see playing among the Lasses, the name of the one is Intemperance, the other Sound sleep. By the help and service of this retinue I bring all things under the verge of my power, lording it over the greatest Kings and Potentates.

You have now heard of my Descent, my Edu∣cation, and my Attendance. That I may not be taxed as presumptious in borrowing the title of a Goddess, I come now in the next place to ac∣quaint you what obliging favours I every where bestow, and how largely my jurisdiction extends: For if, as one has ingenuously noted, to be a God is no other than to be a Benefactor to mankind, and if they have been thought deservedly deified who have invented the use of Wine, Corn, or any other Convenience for the well being of Mortals; why may not I justly bear the Van among the whole troop of Gods, who in all, and toward all exert an unparallel'd bounty and beneficence?.

For instance, in the first place what can be more dear and pretious than Life it self? and yet for this are none beholden save to Me alone. For it is neither the Spear of throughly∣begotten Pallas, nor the Buckler of cloud-gather∣ing Iove, that multiplies and propagates Man∣kind:

but that prime Father of the Universe, who at a displeasing nod makes heaven it self to tremble, He (I say) must lay aside his frightful Ensigns of Majesty, and put away that grim aspect wherewith he makes the other Gods to quake, and Stageplayer-like must alter his usual character, if he would do that, the doing whereof he cannot refrain from, i.e. getting of children. The next place to the Gods is challenged by the Stoicks; but give me one as Stoical as ill nature can make him, and if I do not prevail on him to part with his Beard, that bush of wisdom, (though no other ornament than what Nature in more ample manner has given to Goats) yet at least he shall lay by his gravity, smooth up his brow, re∣linquish his rigid Tenets, and in despite of preju∣dice become sensible of some passion in wanton sport and dallying; in a word, this Dictator of wisdom shall be glad to take Folly for his diver∣sion, if ever he would arrive to the honour of a Father. And why should I not tell my story out? To proceed then, Is it the head, the face, the breasts, the hands, the ears, or other more come∣ly parts that serve for instruments of generation, I trow not, but it is that member of our body which is so odd and uncouth, as can scarce be mentioned without a smile: This part I say is that fountain of life, from which originally spring all things in a truer sense than from the Elemental Seminary. Add to this, what man would be so silly, as to run his head into the collar of a matrimonial noose, if (as wise men are wont to do) he had beforehand duly considered the inconve∣niences

of a wedded life? or indeed what woman would open her arms to receive the embraces of a husband, if she did but forecast the pangs of child∣birth, and the plague of being a Nurse? Since then you owe your Birth to the Bride-bed, and (what was preparatory to that) the solemnizing of Marriage to my waiting-woman Madness, you cannot but acknowledge how much you are in∣debted to me. Beside, those who had once dear∣ly bought the experience of their folly, would never reengage themselves in the same intangle∣ment by a second match, if it were not occasioned by the forgetfulness of past dangers. And Venus her self (whatever Lucretius pretends to the con∣trary) cannot deny, but that without my assi∣stance her procreative power would prove weak and ineffectual. It was from my sportive and tickling recreation that proceeded the old crab∣bed Philosophers, and those who now supply their stead, the mortified Monks and Friers, as also Kings, Priests, and Popes, nay the whole tribe of Poetick Gods, who are at last grown so numerous, as in the camp of Heaven (though ne're so spacious) to justle for elbow room. But it is not sufficient to have made it appear that I am the source and original of all Life, ex∣cept I likewise shew, that all the benefits of Life are equally at my disposal. And what are such? Why, can any one be said properly to live, to whom Pleasure is denied? You'll give me your assent, for there is none I know among you, so wise shall I say, or so silly, as to be of a contrary opinion. The Stoicks indeed contemn, and pre∣tend

to banish Pleasure, but this is only a dissem∣bling trick, and a putting the vulgar out of con∣ceit with it, that they may more quietly engross it to themselves: But I dare them now to confess what one stage of Life is not melancholly, dull, tiresome, tedious, and uneasie, unless we spice it with Pleasure, that haut goust of Folly. Of the truth whereof the never enough to be commen∣ded Sophocles is sufficient authority, who gives me the highest character in that sentence of his, To know nothing is the sweetest life.

Yet abating from this, let us examine the case more narrowly: Who knows not that the first scene of Infancy is far the most pleasant and de∣lightsome? what then is it in children, that makes us so kiss, hug, and play with them, and that the bloudiest enemy can scarce have the heart to hurt them, but their Ingredients of Innocence and Folly, of which Nature out of providence did purposely compound and blend their tender Infancy, that by a frank return of Pleasure they might make some sort of amends for their Parents trouble, and give in caution as it were for the discharge of a future education? The next ad∣vance from Childhood is Youth, and how favou∣rably is this dealt with, how kind courteous, and respectful are all to it, and how ready to become serviceable upon all occasions? And whence reaps it this happiness, whence indeed but from me on∣ly, by whose procurement it is furnished with little of wisdom, and so with the less of disquiet? And when once Lads begin to grow up, and at∣tempt to write Man, their prettiness does then

soon decay, their briskness flags, their humours stagnate, their jollity ceases, and their blood grows cold: and the farther they proceed in years, the more they go backward in the enjoyment of themselves, till waspish old age comes on, a bur∣den to it self as well as others, and that so heavy and oppressive, as none would bear the weight of, unless out of pity to their sufferings I again inter∣vene, and lend a helping hand, assisting them at a dead lift, in the same method the Poets feign their Gods to succour dying men, by transforming them into new creatures, which I do by bringing them back, after they have one foot in the grave, to their Infancy again; so as there is a great deal of truth couched in that old Proverb, Once an old man, and twice a child. Now if any one be cu∣rious to understand what course I take to effect this alteration, my method is this: I bring them to my Well of Forgetfulness, (the fountain where∣of is in the Fortunate Islands, and the river Le∣the in hell but a small stream of it) and when they have there fill'd their bellies full, and wash'd down care, by the virtue and operation whereof they become young again. Ay, but (say you) they meerly dote, and play the fool: why yes, This is what I mean by growing young again: For what else is it to be a Child, than to be a Fool and an Idiot? It is the being such that makes that age so acceptable: For who does not esteem it somewhat ominous to see a Boy endowed with the discretion of a Man, and therefore for the curbing of too forward parts we have a dispara∣ging Proverb, soon ripe, soon rotten? And farther,

who would keep company, or have any thing to do with such an old blade, as after the wear and harrowing of so many years, should yet continue of as clear a head, and found a judgment, as he had at any time been in his middle age; and therefore it is a great kindness of me that old men grow fools, since it is hereby only that they are freed from such vexations, as would torment them, if they were more wise: They can drink briskly, bear up stoutly, and light pass over such infirmities, as a far stronger constitution could scarce master. Sometime with the old fellow in Plautus they are brought back to their horn-book again, to learn to spell their fortune in love: Most wretched would they needs be, if they had but wit enough to be sensible of their hard condition, but by my assistance they carry off all well, and to their respective friends approve themselves good sociable jolly companions. Thus Homer makes aged Nestor famed for a smooth oyly∣toung'd Orator, while the delivery of Achilles was but rough, harsh, and haesitant; and the same Poet elsewhere tells us of old men that sate on the walls, and spake with a great deal of flourish and elegance. And in this point indeed they surpass and out go children, who are pretty forward in a softly, innocent prattle, but otherwise are too much toung-tied, and want the others most ac∣ceptable embellishment of a perpetual talkative∣ness. Add to this, that old men love to be pla∣ying with children, and children delight as much in them to verifie the Proverb, that Birds of a feather stock together. And indeed what difference can be discerned between them, but that the one

is more furrowed with wrinkies, and has seen a little more of the world than the other? for o∣therwise their whitish hair, their want of teeth, their smalness of stature, their milk diet, their bald crowns, their pratling, their p'aying, their short memory, their heedlesness, and all their other endowments exactly agree; and the more they advance in years, the nearer they come back to their cradle, till like children indeed at last they depart the world without any remorse at the loss of life, or sense of the pangs of death.

And now let any one compare the excellency of my metamorphosing power to that which Ovid attributes to the Gods, their strange seats in some drunken passions we will omit for their cre∣dit sake, and instance only in such persons as they pretended great kindnesses for; These they trans∣formed into Trees, Birds, Insects, and sometimes Serpents: but alas, their very change into some∣what else, argues the destruction of what they were before, Whereas I can restore the same nu∣merical man to his pristine state of youth, health, and strength: yea, what is more, if men would but so far consult their own interest, as to discard all thoughts of wisdom, and entirely resign them∣selves to my guidance and conduct, Old age should be a Paradox, and each mans years a perpetual Spring. For look how your hard plodding Stu∣dents, by a close sedentary confinement to their books, grow mopish, pale, and meagre, as if by a continual wrack of brains and torture of inven∣tion their veins were pumped dry, and their whole body squeez'd sapless; whereas my fol∣lowers

are smooth, plump, and bucksom, and alto∣gether as lusty as so many Bacon-hogs, or suck∣ing Calves, never in their career of pleasure to be arrested with old age, if they could but keep themselves untainted from the contagiousness of Wisdom, with the leprosie whereof if at any time they are infected, it is only for prevention, lest they should otherwise have been too happy.

For a more ample confirmation of the truth of what foregoes, it is on all sides confess'd that Folly is the best preservative of Youth and the most effectual antidote against Age. And it is a never failing observation made of the people of Brabant, that contrary to the Proverb of Older and wiser, the more antient they grow, the more fools they are, and there is not any one Coun∣try whose inhabitants enjoy themselves better, and rub through the world with more ease and quiet. To these are nearly related, as well by affinity of customs, as of neighbourhood, my friends the Hollanders, Mine I may well call them, for they stick so close and lovingly to me, that they are stiled Fools to a Proverb, and yet scorn to be ashamed of their name. Well, let fond mor∣tals go now in a needless quest of some Medea, Circe▪ Venus; or some enchanted fountain for a Restorative of age, whereas the accurate per∣formance of this feat lies only within the ability of my art and s kill.

It is I only who have the Receipt of making that liquor, wherewith Memnons daughter length∣ened out her grandfather's declining days: It is I that am that Venus, who so far restored the lan∣guishing

Phaon, as to make Sapho, fall deeply in love with his beauty. Mine are those herbs, mine those charms, that not only Iure back swift Time, when past and gone, but (what is more to be ad∣mired) clip its wings, and prevent all farther flight. So then if you will all agree to my verdict, that nothing is more desirable than the being young, nor any thing more loathed than contemp∣tible old age, you must needs acknowledge it as an unrequitable obligation from me for fencing off the one, and perpetuating the other.

But why should I confine my discourse to the narrow subject of mankind only? View the whole Heaven it self, and there tell me what one of that Divine tribe would not be mean and de∣spicable, if my name did not lend him some re∣spect and authority. Why is Bacchus alway painted as a young man, but only because he is freakish, drunk, and mad, and spending his time in toping, dancing, masquing, and revelling, seems to have nothing in the least to do with Wisdom? nay so far is he from the affectation of being accounted wise, that he is content all the rites of devotion which are paid unto him, should consist of apishness and drollery. Farther, what scoffs and jeers did not the old Comedians throw upon him? O swinish paunch-gut God, (say they) that smells rank of the thigh he was sowed up in, and so on. But prethee, who in his case, al∣way merry, youthful, soaked in wine, and drown∣ed in pleasures? who (I say) in such a case would change conditions either with the lofty menace-looking Iove, the grave, yet timerous Pan, the

stately Pallas, or indeed any one other of hea∣vens Land lords? Why is Cupid feigned as a boy, but only because he is an under-witted whipster, that neither acts nor thinks any thing with dis∣cretion? Why is Venus adored for the mirrour of beauty, but only because she and I claim kind∣red, she being of the same complexion with my father Plutus, and therefore call'd by Homer the golden Goddess? beside, she imitates me in being alway a laughing, if either we believe the Poets, or their neer kinsmen the Painters, the first men∣tioning, the other drawing her constantly in that posture. Add farther, to what Deity did the Romans pay a more ceremonial respect than to Flora, that bawd of Obscenity? And if any one search the Poets for an historical account of the Gods, he shall find them all famous for lewd pranks and debaucheries. It is needless to insist upon the miscarriages of others, when the lea∣cherous intregues of Iove himself are so notori∣ous, and when the pretendedly chast Diana so oft uncloak'd her modesty to run a hunting after her beloved Endimion. But I'le say no more, for I had rather They should be told of their faults by Momus, who was wont formerly to sting them with some close reflexions, till nettled by his a∣busive raillery, they kick'd him out of heaven for his sauciness of daring to reprove such as were beyond correction: and now in his banishment from heaven he finds but cold entertainment here on earth, nay is denied all admittance into the Court of Princes, where notwithstanding my hand-maid Flattery finds a most encouraging well∣come:

But this petulant Monitor being thrust out of doors, the Gods can now more freely rant and revel, and take their whole swinge of plea∣sure: Now the beastly Priapus may recreate himself without contradiction in lust and filthi∣ness, now the sly Mercury may without discovery go on in his thieveries, and nimble-finger'd jug∣gles; the sooty Vulcan may now renew his won∣ted custom of making the other Gods laugh by his hopping so limpingly, and coming off with so many dry joques and biting Repartees. Silenus the old doting Lover, to shew his activity, may now dance a frisking Jig, and the Nymphs be at the same sport naked. The goatish Satyrs may make up a merry Ball, and Pan the blind-harper may put up his Bag-pipes, and sing baudy catches, to which the Gods especially, when they are al∣most drunk, shall give a most profound attention. But why should I any farther rip open and expose the weakness of the Gods, a weakness so childish and absurd, that no man can at the same time keep his countenance, and make a relation of it? Now therefore, like Homer's wandring Muse, I'le take my leave of Heaven, and come down again here below, where we shall find nothing happy, nay nothing tolerable without my presence and assistance. And in the first place consider, how providently Nature has took care that in all her works there should be some piquant smack and rellish of Folly: for since the Stoicks define Wis∣dom to be a conduct by Reason, and Folly nothing else but the being hurried by Passion; left our life should otherwise have been too dull and unactive,

That creatour, who out of Clay first tempered and made us up, put into the composition of our humanity more than a pound of Passions to an ounce of Reason, and Reason he confined within the narrow cells of the Brain, whereas he left Passions the whole body to range in. Farther, he set up two sturdy champions to stand perpetu∣ally on the guard, that Reason might make no assault, surprise, nor inroad; Anger, which keeps its station in the fortress of the heart, and Lust, which like the Signs Virgo and Scorpio, rules the belly and secret members. Against the forces of these two warriors how unable is Reason to bear up, and withstand, every days experience does abun∣dantly witness; while let Reason be never so im∣portunate in urging and reinforcing her admoni∣tions to virtue, yet the Passions bear all before them, and by the least offer of curb or restraint grow but more imperious, till Reason it self for quietness sake is forced to desist from all farther remonstrance. But because it seem'd expedient that Man, who was born for the transaction of buisiness, should have so much wisdom as should fit and capacitate him for the discharge of his du∣ty herein, and yet least such a measure as is re∣quisite for this purpose might prove too dange∣rous and fatal, I were advised with for an Anti∣dote, who prescribed this infallible receipt of taking a wife, a creature so harmless, and silly, and yet so useful, and convenient, as might mollifie, and make pliable the stifness and morose humour of Man. Now that which made Plato doubt under what Genus to rank Woman, whether among

Brutes or Rational creatures, was only meant to denote the extreme stupidness and folly of that sexe; a sex so unalterably simple, that for any of them to thrust forward and reach at the name of wise, is but to make themselves the more remark∣able fools, such an endeavour being but a swim∣ming against the stream, nay a turning the course of nature, the bare attempting whereof is as ex∣travagant as the effecting of it is impossible: for as it is a trite Proverb, that an Ape will be an Ape though clad in purple, so a woman will be a wo∣man, i. e. a fool whatever disguise she takes up. And yet there is no reason Women should take it amiss to be thus charged, for if they do but right∣ly consider, they'l find that it is to folly they are beholden for those endowments, wherein they so far surpass and excell man; as first for their un∣parallel'd beauty, by the charm whereof they tyrannize over the greatest Tyrants: for what is it but too great a smatch of wisdom that makes menso tawny and thick-skin'd, so rough and prickly-bearded, like an Emblem of winter or old age, while women have such dainty smooth cheeks, such a low gentle voice, and so pure a complexion, as if Nature had drawn them for a standing pattern of all symmetry and comeliness? Beside, what greater or juster aim and ambition have they than to please their husbands? in or∣der whereunto they garnish themselves with Paint, Washes, Curls, Perfumes, and all other mysteries of ornament; yet after all, they become acceptable to them only for their folly. Wives are always allowed their humour, yet it is only in

exchange for titillation and pleasure, which in∣deed are but other names for Folly; as none can deny, who considers, how a man must hug, and dan∣dle, and kittle and play a hundred little tricks with his bed-fellow, when he is disposed to make that use of her, that Nature design'd her for. Wel then, you see whence that greatest pleasure (to which modesty scarce allows a name) springs and proceeds.

But now some blood-chill'd old men, that are more for wine than wenching, will pretend that in their opinion the greatest happiness consists in feasting, and drinking. Grant it be so, yet certain∣ly in the most luxurious entertainments it is Fol∣ly must give the sauce and rellish to the daintiest cates and delicacies; so that if there be no one of the guests naturally Fool enough to be played upon by the rest, they must procure some comical Buffoon, that by his joques, and slouts, and blun∣ders, shall make the whole company split them∣selves with laughing: for to what purpose were it to be stuff'd, and cramm'd with so many dainty bits, savoury dishes, and toothsome rarities, if after all this Epicurism of the belly, the eys, ears, and whole mind of man, were not as well fostred, and relieved with laughing, jesting, and such like divertisements, which like second courses serve for the promoting of digestion? And as to all those Shooing-horns of drunkenness, the keeping every one his man, the throwing Hey-jinks, the filling of bumpers, the drinking two in a hand, the beginning of Mistresses healths; and then the roaring out of drunken catches, the calling in a

Fidler, the leading out every one his Lady to dance, and such like riotous pastimes, These were not taught or dictated by any of the wise men of Greece, but of Goatham rather, being my in∣vention, and by me prescribed as the best preserva∣tive of health: each of which, the more ridicu∣lous it is, the more welcome it finds. And indeed to jog sleepingly through the world in a dumpish, melancholly posture, cannot properly be said to Live, but to be wound up as it were in a Winding-sheet before we are dead, and so to be shuffled quick into a grave, and buried alive.

But there are yet others perhaps that have no gust in this sort of pleasure, but place their grea∣test content in the enjoyment of friends, telling us that true friendship is to be preferr'd before all other acquirements; that it is a thing so useful, and necessary, as the very Elements could not long subsist without a natural combination; so pleasant, that it affords as warm an influence as the Sun it self; so honest, (if honesty in this case deserve any consideration) that the very Philo∣sophers have not stuck to place This as one a∣mong the rest of their different sentiments of the chiefest Good. But what if I make it appear, that I also am the main spring and original of this endearment? yes, I can easily demonstrate it, and that not by crabbed Syllogisms, or a crooked, and unintelligible way of arguing, but can make it (as the Proverb goes) as plain as the nose on your face. Well then, to scratch, and curry one ano∣ther, to wink at a friends faults, nay to cry up some sailings for virtuous, and commendable, is

not this the next door to the being a Fool? when one looking stedfastly in his Mistresses face ad∣mires a Mole, as much as a Beauty spot, when another swears his Ladies stinking breath is a most redolent Perfume; and at another time the fond Parent hugs the squint ey'd child, and pretends it is rather a becoming glance, and win∣ning aspect, than any blemish of the eye-sight: What is all this, but the very heighth of Folly? Folly (I say) that both makes friends, and keeps them so. I speak of Mortal men only, among whom there are none, but have some small faults, he is most happy that has fewest. If we pass to the Gods, we shall find that they have so much of Wisdom, as they have very little of Friend∣ship, nay nothing of that, which is true, and hear∣ty. The reason why Men make a greater im∣provement in this virtue, is only because they are more credulous, and easie-natur'd: For friends must be of the same humour, and inclinations too, or else the league of Amity, though made with never so many protestations, will be soon broke. Thus grave, and morose men seldom prove fast friends, they are too captious, and censorious, and will not bear with one anothers infirmities; they are as Eagle-sighted as may be in the espial of others faults, while they wink upon themselvs, and never mind the beam in their own eyes. In short, Man being by nature so prone to frailties, so humoursom, and cross-grain'd, and guilty of so many slips, and miscarriages, there could be no firm friendship contracted, except there be such an allowance made for each others defaults, which

the Greeks term 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and we may construe Good Nature, which is but another word for Folly. And what? Is not Cupid, that first fa∣ther of all relation, is not he stark blind, that as he cannot himself distinguish of colours, so he would make us as mop-ey'd in judging falsly of all love concerns, and wheedle us into a thinking, that we are alway in the right? Thus every Jack sticks to his own Jill, every Tinker esteems his own Trull, and the hob▪ nailed Suitour prefers Ioan the Milk-maid before any of my Ladies daughters. These things are true, and are ordi∣narily laught at, and yet however ridiculous they seem, it is hence only that all Societies receive their cement, and consolidation.

The same which has been said of Friendship is much more applicable to a state of Marriage, which is but the highest advance and improve∣ment of friendship in the closest bond of union. Good God! What frequent divorces, or worse mischief, would oft sadly happen, except man, and wife were so discreet as to pass over light occasions of quarrel with laughing, jesting, dis∣sembling, and such like playing the fool? Nay, how few matches would go forward, if the hasty lover did but first know how many little tricks of lust, and wantonness (and perhaps more gross fail∣ings) his coy, and seemingly bashful Mistress had oft before been guilty of? and how fewer marri∣ages, when consummated, would continue happy, ••f the husband were not either sottishly insensible of, or did not purposely wink at, and pass over the lightness and forwardnes of his good-natur'd

wife? This peace and quietnes is owing to my management, for there would otherwise be con∣tinual jars, and broils, and mad doings, if want of wit only did not at the same time make a conten∣ted cuckold, and a still house; if the Cuckow sing at the back door, the unthinking Cornute takes no notice of the unlucky omen of others eggs being laid in his own nest, but laughs it over, kisses his dear spouse, and all his well. And indeed it is much better patiently to be such a hen-peckt frigot, than alway to be wrack'd and tortur'd with the grating surmises of suspicion and jealou∣sie. In fine, there is no one society, no one rela∣tion men stand in, would be comfortable, or in∣deed tolerable without my assistance; there could be no right understanding betwixt Prince and people, Lord and servant, Tutour and pupil, friend and friend, man and wife, buyer and sel∣ler, or any persons however otherwise related, if they did not cowardly put up small abuses, sneak∣ingly chringe and submit, or after all fawningly scratch and flatter each other. This you'l say is much, but you shall yet hear what is more: Tell me then, can any one love another, that first hates himself? is it likely any one should agree with a friend, that is first fall'n out with his own Judg∣ment? or is it probable he should be any way pleasing to another, who is a perpetual plague and trouble to himself? This is such a Paradox that none can be so madd, as to maintain. Well, but if I am excluded and barr'd out, every man would be so far from being able to bear with others, that he would be burdensome to himself, and

consequently uncapable of any ease or satisfa∣ction. Nature, that toward some of her pro∣ducts playes the Step-mother rather than the indulgent Parent, has endowed some men with that unhappy peevishness of disposition, as to nauseate and dislike whatever is their own, and much admire what belongs to other persons, so as they cannot in any wife enjoy whatever their Birth or Fortune has bestowed upon them: for what grace is there in the greatest beauty, if it be alway clouded with frowns, and fulliness? or what vigour in youth, if it be harrassed with a pettish, dogged, waspish ill humour? none, sure: Nor indeed can there be any creditable acquit∣ment of our selves in any one station of life, but we should sink without rescue into misery and despair, if we were not buoyed up and supported by Self love, which is but the eldest sister (as it were) of Folly, and her own constant friend and assistant. For what is, or can be more silly, than to be lovers, and admirers of our selves? and yet if we were not so, there will be no rellish to any of our words, or actions. Take away this one property of a fool, and the Orator shall become as dumb and silent as the Pulpit he stands in; the Musitian shall hang up his untoucht Instruments on the wall, the compleatest Actors shall be hiss'd off the Stage, the Poet shall be burlesqu'd upon with his own doggrel rythms, the Painter shall himself vanish into an imaginary Landskip, and the Rhysician shall want Food more than his Pati∣ents do Physick. In short, without Self-love, in∣stead of beautiful, you shall think your self an old

Bedlam of fourscore; instead of youthful, you shall seem just dropping into the grave, instead of eloquent, a meer stammerer; and in lieu of gen∣tile, and complaisant, you shall appear like a down∣right Country clown, it being so necessary, that every one should think well of himself, before be can expect the good opinion of others. Finally, when it is the main and essential part of happi∣ness to desire to be no other than what we already are, this expedient is again wholly owing to Self-love, which so flushes men with a good con∣ceit of their own, that no one repents of his shape, of his wit, of his education, or of his country; so as the dirty half drown'd Hollander would not remove into the pleasant Plains of Italy, the rude Thracian would not change his boggy soil for the best seat in Athens, nor the brutish Soy∣thian quit his thorny desarts to become an inha∣bitant of the Fortunate Islands. And O the in∣comparable contrivance of Nature, who has or∣dered all things in so even a method, that where ever she has been less bountiful in her gifts, there she makes it up with a larger dose of Self-love, which supplies the former defects, and makes all even. To enlarge farther, I may well presume to aver, that there are no considerable exploits performed, no useful arts invented, but what I am the respective author, and manager of As rst, what is more lofty and heroical than War, and yet what is more foolish than for some petty, tri∣vial affront to take such a revenge, as both sides shall be sure to be loosers, and where the quar∣rel must be decided at the price of so many limbs,

and lives? And when they come to an engage∣ment, what service can be done by such pale-fa∣ced Students, as, by drudging at the oars of Wis∣dom, have spent all their strength and activity? No, the only use is of blunt sturdy fellows, that have little of wit, and so the more of resolution; except you would make a souldier of such ano∣ther Demosthenes, as threw down his arms as soon as he came within sight of the Enemy, and lost that credit in the Camp, which he gained in the Pulpit: But Counsel, Deliberation, and Advice (say you) are very necessary for the management of War: very true, but not such counsel as shall be prescribed by the strict rules of Wisdom, and Justice; for a Battle shall be more successively sought by Serving-men, Porters, Bayliffs, Padders, Rogues, Jail-birds, and such like tag-rags of man∣kind, than by the most accomplished Philoso∣phers. Which last, how unhappy they are in the management of such concerns, Socrates (by the Oracle adjudg'd to be the wisest of mortals) is a notable example; who, when he appeared in the attempt of some publick performance before the people, he faltred in the first onset, and could never recover himself, but was houted and his∣sed home again: Yet this Philosopher was the less a Fool for refusing the appellation of Wise, and not accepting the Oracles complement; as also for advising, that no Philosophers should have any hand in the Government of the Common∣wealth; he should have likewise at the same time added, that they should be banished all humane Society. And what made this Great man poy∣son

himself to prevent the malice of his Accusers, what made him the instrument of his own death, but only his excessiveness of Wisdom? whereby, while he was searching into the nature of Clouds, while he was plodding and contemplating upon Ideas, while he was exercising his Geometry upon the measure of a Flea, and diving into the recesses of Nature, for an account how little Insects, when they were so small, could make so great a buz, and hum, while he was intent upon these fooleries, he minded nothing of the world, or its ordinary concerns.

Next to Socrates comes his Scholar Plato, a fa∣mous Oratour indeed, that could be so dasht out of countenance by an illiterate rabble, as to de∣mur, and hauk, and haesitate, before he could get to the end of one short sentence. Theophrastus was such another coward, who beginning to make an Oration, was presently struck down with fear, as if he had seen some Ghost, or Hobgoblin. Iso∣crates was so bashful, and timerous, that though he taught Rhetorick, yet he could never have the confidence to speak in publick. Cicero, that Ma∣ster of Roman Eloquence, was wont to begin his Speeches with a low quivering voice, just like a School-boy, afraid of not saying his Lesson perfect enough to escape whipping: And yet Fabius com∣mends this property of Tully, as an argument of a considerate Oratour, sensible of the difficulty of acquitting himself with credit: but what here∣by does he do more, than plainly confess that Wisdom is but a rub, and impediment to the well management of any Affair? How would these

Heroes crouch, and shrink into nothing at the sight of drawn swords, that are thus quash'd and stunn'd at the delivery of bare words?.

Now then let Plato's fine sentence be cried up, that Happy are those Common-wealths where either Philosophers are elected Kings, or Kings turn Phi∣losophers. Alas, This is so far from being true, that if we consult all Historians for an account of past Ages, we shall find no Princes more weak, nor any People more slavish, and wretched, than where the Administration of Affairs fell on the shoulders of some Learned Bookish Governour. Of the truth whereof the two Cato's are exemplary In∣stances: the first of which embroiled the City, and tired out the Senate by his tedious Harangues of defending himself, and accusing others; the younger was an unhappy occasion of the loss of the Peoples liberty, while by improper methods he pretended to maintain it. To these may be ad∣ded Brutus, Cassius, the two Gracchi, and Cicero himself, who was no less fatal to Rome, than his Parallel Demosthenes was to Athens: As likewise Marcus Antoninus, whom we may allow to have been a Good Emperour, yet the less such for his being a Philosopher; and certainly he did not do half that kindness to his Empire by his own pru∣dent management of Affairs, as he did mischief by leaving such a degenerate Successour, as his Son Commodus proved to be. But it is a common Observation, that A wise Father has many times a foolish Son, Nature so contriving it, lest the taint of Wisdom, like Hereditary distempers, should otherwise descend by Propagation. Thus Tully's

Son Marcus, though bred at Athens, proved but a dull insipid Soul; and Socrates his children had (as one ingeniously expresses it) more of the Mother, than the Father, a phrase for their being Fools. However it were the more excusable, though wise men were so awkward, and unhandy in the ordering of publick affairs, if they were not as bad, or worse in the management of their ordinary, and domestick concerns; but alas here they are much to seek: For place a formal Wise man at a feast, and he shall either by his morose silence put the whole Table out of humour, or by his frivolous questions disoblige, and tire out all that sit near him. Call him out to dance, and he shall move no more nimbly than a Camel: Invite him to any publick performance, and by his very looks he shall damp the mirth of all the Specta∣tors, and at last be forced like Cato to leave the Theatre, because he cannot unstarch his gravity, nor put on a more pleasant countenance. If he be engaged in any discourse, he either breaks off abruptly, or tires out the patience of the whole company if he goes on: If he have any Contract, Sale, or Purchase to make, or any other worldly business to transact, he behaves himself more like a sensless Stock than a Rational man; so as he can be of no use, nor advantage to himself, to his friends, or to his country, because he knows no∣thing how the world goes, and is wholly unac∣quainted with the humour of the Vulgar, who cannot but hate a person so disagreeing in temper from themselves.

And indeed the whole proceedings of the world

are nothing but one continued Scene of Folly, all the Actors being equally fools, and mad-men; and therefore if any be so pragmatically wise as to be singular, he must e'en turn a second Timon, or Man-hater, and by retiring into some unfrequen∣ted desart become a Recluse from all mankind.

But, to return to what I first proposed, What was it in the infancy of the world that made men, naturally savage, unite into Civil societies, but only Flattery, one of my chiefest virtues? For there is nothing else meant by the fables of Amphion, and Orpheus with their Harps; the first making the stones jump into a well-built wall, the other inducing the trees to pull their leggs out of the ground, and dance the Morrice after him. What was it that quieted and appeased the Roman people, when they brake out into a riot for the redress of Grievances, was it any sinewy, starcht Oration? No alas, it was only a silly ridiculous story, told by Menenius Agrippa, how the other members of the body quarrell'd with the belly, resolving no longer to continue her drudging caterers, till by the penance they thought thus in revenge to impose, they soon found their own strength so far diminished, that paving the cost of experiencing a mistake, they willingly returned to their respective duties. Thus when the Rab∣ble of Athens murmured at the exaction of the Magistrates, Themistocles satisfied them with such another tale of the Fox, and the Hedg hog; the first whereof being stuck fast in a miry bog, the Flies came swarming about him, and almost suckt out all his bloud; the latter officiously offers his ser∣vice

to drive them away; no, says the Fox, if these which are almost glutted be frighted off, there will come a new hungry Sett, that will be ten times more greedy, and devouring: The Moral of this he meant applicable to the people, who if they had such Magistrates removed as they complained of for extortion, yet their Suc∣cessors would certainly be worse.

With what highest advances of Policy could Sertorius have kept the Barbarians so well in awe as by a white Hart, which he pretended was pre∣sented to him by Diana, and brought him intel∣ligence of all his Enemies designs? What was Lycurgus his grand argument for demonstrating the force of Education, but only the bringing out two whelps of the same Bitch, differently brought up, and placing before them a Dish, and a live Hare; the one, that had been bred to hunt∣ing, ran after the game; while the other, whose Kennel had been a Kitchen, presently fell a lick∣ing the Platter. Thus the before-mentioned Ser∣torius made his Soldiers sensible; that Wit, and Contrivance would do more than bare Strength, by setting a couple of men to the pluck∣ing of two horses tails; the first pulling at all in one handful, tugged in vain, while the other, though much the weaker, snatching off one by one, soon performed his appointed task.

Instances of like nature are Minos, and King Numa, both which fooled the people into obe∣dience by a meer cheat, and juggle; the first by pretending he was advised by Iupiter, the latter by making the vulgar believe he had the Goddess

Aegeria assistant to him in all debates, and trans∣actions. And indeed it is by such wheedles that the common people are best gull'd, and im∣posed upon.

For farther, what City would ever submit to the rigorous Laws of Plato, to the severe injun∣ctions of Aristotle, or the more unpracticable Tenets of Socrates? No, these would have been too streight, and galling, there not being al∣lowance enough made for the infirmities of the people.

To pass to another head, what was it made the Decii so forward to offer themselves up as a sacrifice, for an atonement to the angry Gods, to rescue, and stipulate for, their indebted country?.

What made Curtius, on a like occasion, so de∣sperately to throw away his life, but only Vainglory, that is condemned, and unanimously vo∣ted for a main branch of Folly by all wise men? What is more unreasonable, and foppish, (say they) than for any man, out of ambition to some Office, to bow, and scrape, and cringe to the gaping Rabble, to purchase their favour by bribes, and donatives, to have their names cried up in the streets, to be carried about as it were for a fine sight upon the shoulders of the crowd, to have their effigies carved in brass, and put up in the Market place for a Monument of their Popu∣larity? Add to this the affectation of new Titles, and distinctive badges of Honour, nay the very Deifying of such as were the most bloudy Ty∣rants. These are so extremely ridiculous, that there is need of more than one Democritus to

laugh at them. And y•••• hence only have been occasioned those memorable atchievements of Heroes, that have so much employed the pens of many laborious Writers.

It is Folly, that in a several dress governs Ci∣ties, appoints Magistrates, and supports Judica∣tures; and in short, makes the whole course of mans life a meer childrens play, and a worse than Push-pin diversion. The invention of all Arts and Sciences are likewise owing to the same cause: For what sedentary, thoughtful men would have beat their brains in the search of new, and un∣heard of Mysteries, if not egg'd on by the bub∣bling hopes of credit, and reputation? They think a little glittering flash of vain-glory is a suf∣ficient reward for all their sweat, and toil, and tedious drudgery; while they that are suppo∣sedly more foolish, reap advantage of the others labours.

And now, since I have made good my title to Valour, and Industry, what if I challenge an equal share of Wisdom? How! This (you'l say) is ab∣surd, and contradictory; the East, and West may as soon shake hands, as Folly, and Wisdom be re∣conciled. Well, but have a little patience, and I'le warrant you I'le make out my claime. First then, if Wisdom (as must be confest) is no more than a readiness of doing good, and an expedite method of becoming serviceable to the world; to whom does this vertue more properly belong? to the Wiseman, who partly out of modesty, part∣ly out of cowardice, can proceed resolutely in no attempt; or to the Fool, that goes hand over

head, leaps before he looks, and so ventures through the most hazardous undertaking without any sense, or prospect of danger. In the under∣taking any enterprize the Wise man shall run to consult with his books, and dose himself with poring upon musty Authors; while the dispatch∣ful Fool shall rush bluntly on, and have done the business, while the other is hinking of it. For the two greatest lets, and impediments to the issue of an•• performance, are Modesty, which casts a mist before mens eyes, and Fear, which makes them sh••ink back, and recede from any proposal: Both these are banished, and cashiered by Folly, and in their stead such a habit of fool-hardiness introduced, as mightily contributes to the suc∣cess of all Enterprises.

Farther, if you will have Wisdom taken in the other sense, of being A right judgment of things, you shall see how short Wise men fall of it in this acceptation.

First then it is certain, that all things, like so many Ianus's, carry a double face, or rather bear a false aspect, most things being really in them∣selves far different from what they are in appea∣rance to others: so as that, which at first blush seems alive, is in truth dead; and that again, which appears as dead, at a nearer review proves to be alive: beautiful seems ugly; wealthy poor; scandalous is thought creditable, prosperous passes for unlucky; friendly, for what is most opposite, and innocent for what is hurtful, and pernicious. In short, if we change the tables, all things are found placed in a quite different posture from

what just before they appeared to stand in.

If this seem too darkly, and unintelligibly ex∣prest, I'le explain it by the familiar instance of some great King, or Prince, whom every one shall suppose to swim in the luxury of wealth, and to be a powerful Lord, and Master; when alass, on the one hand he has poverty of spirit enough to make him a meer beggar, and on the other side he is worse than a Gally slave to his own lusts, and passions.

If I had a mind farther to expatiate, I could en∣large upon several Instances of like nature, but this one may at present suffice.

Well, but what's the meaning (will some say) of all this? Why, observe the application. If any one in a Playhouse be so impertinent, and rude, as to rifle the Actors of their borrowed cloaths, make them lay down the character assum'd, and force them to returne to their naked selves; would not such a one wholly discompose, and spoil the Entertainment, and would he not deserve to be hiss'd, and thrown stones at, till the pragmati∣cal fool should learn better manners? For by such a disturbance the whole Scene will be altered such as acted the men, will perhaps appear to be women; he that was drest up for a young brisk Lo∣ver, will be found a rough old fellow; and he that represented a King, will remain but a mean ordinary Serving man: the laying things thus open, is a marring all the sport, which consists on∣ly in counterfeit, and disguise. Now the world is nothing else but such another Comedy, where every one in the Tire-room is first habited, suita∣bly

to the part he is to act; and as it is succes∣sively their turn, out they come on the Stage; where he that now personates a Prince, shall in another part of the same Play alter his dress, and become a Beggar, all things being in a masque, and particular disguise, or otherwise the Play could never be presented. Now if there should arise any starcht formal Don that would point at the several Actors, and tell how This, that seems a petty God, is in truth worse than a Brute, being made captive to the tyranny of passion; that the other, who bears the character of a King, is indeed the most slavish of Serving-men, in being subject to the mastership of Lust, and Sensuality; that a third, who vaunts so much of his Pedigree, is no better than a Bastard for degenerating from Virtue, which ought to be of greatest considera∣tion in Heraldry; and so shall go on in exposing all the rest: would not any one think such a per∣son quite frantick, and ripe for Bedlam? For as nothing is more silly, than preposterous Wisdom, so is there nothing more indiscreet than an un∣seasonable Reproof: And therefore he is to be houted out of all society, that will not be pliable, conformable, and willing to suite his humour with other mens, remembring the law of Clubs, and Meetings, That he who will not do as the rest, must get him out of the company. And it is certainly one great degree of wisdom, for every one to consider, that he is but a Man, that there∣fore he should not pitch his soaring thoughts be∣yond the level of Mortality, but imp the wings of his towring ambition, and obligingly submit,

and condescend to the weakness of others, it being man•• times a piece of complaisance, to go out of the Road for companies sake. No, (say you) this is a grand piece of Folly: True, but yet all our Living is no more than such kind of Fooling: Which thought it may seem harsh to assert, yet it is not so strange as true.

For the better making it out, it might per∣haps be requisite to invoke the aid of the Muses, to whom the Poets devoutly apply themselves upon far more slender occasions. Come then, and assist ye Heliconian Lasses, while I attempt to prove, that there is no method for an arrival to Wisdom, and consequently no track to the goal of Happiness, without the instructions, and di∣rections of Folly.

And here, in the first place, it has been already acknowledged, that all the Passions are listed un∣der my Regiment, since This is resolved to be the only distinction betwixt a Wise man, and a Fool, that this latter is governed by Passion, the other guided by Reason: And therefore the Sto∣icks look upon Passions no other, than as the in∣fection, and malady of the Soul, that disorders the constitution of the whole man, and by put∣ting the spirits into a feaverish ferment many times occasion some mortal distemper: And yet these, however decried, are not only our Tutours to instruct us toward the attainment of Wisdom, but e'en bolden us likewise, and spur us on to a quicker dispatch of all our undertakings. This I suppose will be stomached by the Stoical Seneca, who pretends, that the only Embleme of Wis∣dom

is, the man without Passion; whereas the supposing any person to be so, is perfectly to un∣man him, or else transforming him into some fabulous Deity, that never was, nor ever will be; nay, to speak more plain, it is but the making him a meer Statue, immoveable, sensless, and al∣togethet unactive. And if This be their Wise man, let them take him to themselves, and re∣move him into Plato's common-wealth, the new Atlantis, or some other like Fairy-land. For who would not hate, and avoid such a person, as should be deaf to all the dictates of common Sense? that should have no more of love, or pity, than a block, or stone, that remains heedless of all dangers? that thinks he can never mistake, but can foresee all contingencies, at the greatest distance, and make provision for the worst pre∣sages? that feeds upon himself, and his own thoughts; that monopolizes health, wealth, pow∣er, dignity, and all to himself; that loves no man, nor is beloved of any; that has the impu∣dence to tax even Divine Providence of ill con∣trivance, and proudly grudges, nay tramples un∣der foot all other mens reputation. And This is He, that is the Stoicks complete Wise man. But prithee, what City would choose such a Magistrate? What Army would be willing to serve under such a Commander? Or what Woman would be content with such a doo-little Husband? Who would invite such a Guest? or what Servant would be retained by such a Master? The most illiterate Mechanick would in all respects be a more acceptable man, who would be froliksome

with his wife, free with his friends, jovial at a feast, pliable in converse, and obliging to all company. But I am tired out with this part of my subject, and so must pass to some other To∣picks.

And now were any one plac'd on that tower, from whence Iove is fancied by the Poets to sur∣vey the world, he would all around discern how many grievances and calamities our whole life is on every side encompassed with: How unclean our birth, how troublesome our tendance in the cradle, how liable our childhood is to a thousand misfortunes? How toilsome, and full of drudge∣ry our riper years? how heavy, and uncomfor∣table our old age? and lastly, how unwelcom the unavoidableness of Death? Farther, in every course of life how many wracks there may be of torturing diseases, how many unhappy accidents may casually occur, how many unexpected disa∣sters may arise, and what strange alterations may one moment produce? Not to mention such miseries, as men are mutually the cause of, as Poverty, Imprisonment, Slander, Reproach, Re∣venge, Treachery, Malice, Cousenage, Deceit; and so many more, as to reckon them all would be as puz∣ling Arithmetick as the numbring of the Sands.

How Mankind became environed with such hard circumtances, or what Deity imposed these Plagues, as a Penance on rebellious Mortals, I am not now at leisure to enquire: but whoever seriously takes them into consideration, he must needs commend the valour of the Milesian vir∣gins, who voluntarily kill'd themselves, to get

rid of a troublesome world: And how many wise men have took the same course of becoming their own Executioners? Among whom, not to men∣tion Diogenes, Xenocrates, Cato, Cassius, Brutus, and other Heroes, the self-denying Chiron is never enough to be commended; who, when he was offered by Apollo the priviledge of being exemp∣ted from Death, and living on to the worlds end, he refused the enticing proposal as deser∣ved••y, thinking it a punishment, rather than reward.

But if all were thus wise, you see how soon the world would be unpeopled, and what need there would be of a second Prometheus, toplaister up the decayed image of Mankind. I therefore come, and stand in this gap of danger, and prevent farther mischief; partly by ignorance, partly by inadver∣tence; by the oblivion of whatever would be gra∣ting to remember, and the hopes of whatever may be grateful to expect, together palliating all griefs with an intermixture of pleasure; whereby I make men so far from being weary of their lives, that when their thread is spun to its full length, they are yet unwilling to die, and mighty hardly brought to take their last Farewell of their friends. Thus some decrepit old fellows, that look as hollow as the grave, into which they are falling, that rattle in the throat at every word they speak, that can eat no meat, but what is tender enough to suck, that have more hair on their beard than they have on their head, and go stooping toward the dust, they must shortly return to, whose skin seems already drest into parchment, and their

bones ready dried to a Skeleton; these shadows of men shall be wonderful ambitious of living longer, and therefore fence off the attaques of Death with all imaginable slights, and impo∣stures: one shall new die his grey hairs, for fear their Colour should betray his Age; another shall spruce himself up in a light Periwig; a third shall repair the loss of his teeth with an Ivory sett; and a fourth perhaps shall fall deeply in love with a young Girl and accordingly court her with as much of gaiety, and briskness, as the liveliest Spark in the whole town: and we can't but know, that for an Old man to marry a Young wife with∣out a portion, to be a cooler to other mens lust, is grown so common, that it is become the Ala mode of the times. And, what's yet more Comical, you shall have some wrinkled old women, whose very looks are a sufficient antidote to leachery, that shall be canting out, Ah life is a sweet thing, and so run a Catterwawling, and hire some strong∣back't Stallions to recover their almost lost sense of feeling; and to set themselves off the better, they shall paint, and dawb their faces, alway stand a tricking up themselves at their Looking∣glass, go naked neck'd, bare brested, be tickled at a sinutty Jest, dance among the young Girls, write Love-letters, and do all the other little knacks of decoying hot-blooded Suitours; and in the mean while, however they are laught at, they enjoy themselves to the full, live up to their hearts desire, and want for nothing that may complete their happiness. As for those that think them herein so ridiculous, I would have them

give an ingenuous answer to this one Querie, Whether, if Folly, or Hanging were left to their choice, they had not much rather live like fools, than dye like dogs? But what matter is it, if these things are resented by the vulgar? their ill word is no injury to Fools, who are either alto∣gether insensible of any affront, or at least lay it not much to heart. If they were knockt on the head, or had their brains dash'd out, they would have some cause to complain; but alas, slander, calumny, and disgrace, are no other way injuri∣ous, than as they are interpreted; nor otherwise evil, than as they are thought to be so: What harm is it then, if all persons deride, and scoff you, if you bear but up in your own thoughts, and be your self throughly conceited of your deserts? And prithee, why should it be thought my scandal to be a Fool, since the being so is one part of our nature, and essence; and as so, our not being wise can no more reasonably be imputed as a fault, than it would be proper to laugh at a man, because he cannnot fly in the air, like Birds, and Fowls; be∣cause he goes not on all four, as beasts of the field; because he does not wear a pair of visible horns, as a crest on his forehead, like Bulls, or Staggs: by the same figure we may call a Horse unhappy, because he was never taught his Grammar; and an Oxe miserable, for that he never learnt to fence: but sure as a Horse, for not knowing a letter, is never the less valuable; so a Man, for being a Fool, is never the more unfortunate, it being by Nature and Providence so ordained for each.

Ay, but (say our Patrons of Wisdom) the know∣ledge

of Arts and Sciences is purposely attainable by men, that the defect of natural parts may be supplyed by the help of acquired: as if it were probable, that Nature, which had been so exact, and curious in the mechanisme of Flowers, Herbs, and Flies, should have bungled most in her master∣piece, and made Man as it were by halves, to be afterward polished, and refined by his own indu∣stry, in the attainment of such Sciences as the Aegyptians seigned were invented by their God Theuth as a plague sure, and punishment to man∣kind, being so far from augmenting their hap∣piness, that they do not answer that end they were first designed for, which was, the improve∣ment of memory, as Plato in his Phaedrus does wit∣tily observe.

In the first Golden Age of the world there was no need of these perplexities; there was then no o∣ther sort of learning, but what was naturally colle∣cted from every man's common sense, improved by an easie experience. What use could there have been of Grammar, when all men spoke the same Mother-tongue, and aimed at no higher pitch of Oratory, than barely to be understood by each other? What need of Logick, when they were too wise to enter into any dispute? Or what oc∣casion for Rhetorick, where no difference arose to require any laborious decision? And as little rea∣son had they to be tied up by any laws, since the dictates of Nature, and common Morality were restraint, and obligation sufficient: And as to all the mysteries of Providence, they made them rather the object of their wonder, than of their

curiosity; and therefore were not so presumptu∣ous as to dive into the depths of Nature, to la∣bour for the solving all phaenomena's in Astronomy, or to wrack their brain in the splitting of Enti∣ties and unfolding the nicest speculations, judg∣ing it a crime for any man to aime at what is put beyond the reach of his shallow apprehension.

Thus was Ignorance, in the infancy of the world, as much the parent of Happiness as it has been since of Devotion: but as soon as the Gol∣den Age began by degrees to degenerate into more drossy metals, then were Arts likewise in∣vented; yet, at first, but few in number, and those rarely understood, till in farther process of time the superstition of the Chaldeans, and the curiosity of the Grecians, spawn'd so many sub∣tleties, that now it is scarce the work of an age to be throughly acquainted with all the criticisms in Grammar only. And among all the several Arts those are proportionably most esteemed of, that come nearest to Weakness, and Folly. For thus Divines may bite their nails, and Naturalists may blow their fingers, Astrologers may know their own fortune is to be poor, and the Logi∣cian may shut his fist, and grasp the wind.

Solus 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, While all these hard-nam'd fellows cannot make So great a figure as a single Quack.

And in this profession, those that have most confi∣dence, though least skill, shall be sure of the grea∣test custom; and indeed this whole Art, as it is now practised, is but one incorporated compound of Craft, and Imposture.

Next to the Physician comes (He, who perhaps will commence a Suite with me, for not being placed before him, I mean) the Lawyer, who is so silly as to be Ignoramus to a Proverb, and yet by such are all difficulties resolved, all controver∣sies determined, and all affairs managed, so much to their own advantage, that they get those E∣states to themselves, which they are employed to recover for their Clients: while the poor Divine in the mean time shall have the lice crawl upon his thread-bare gown, before, by all his sweat and drudgery, he can get mony enough to purchase a new one. As those Arts therefore are most ad∣vantageous to their respective professours, which are farthest distant from Wisdom, so are those persons incomparably most happy, that have least to do with any at all, but jog on in the common road of Nature, which will never mislead us, ex∣cept we voluntarily leap over those boundaries, which she has cautiously set to our finite beings. Nature glitters most in her own plain homely garb, and then gives the greatest lustre, when she is unsullied from all artificial garnish.

Thus if we inquire into the state of all dumb creatures, we shall find those fare best, that are left to Nature's conduct: As to instance in Bees, what is more to be admired, than the industry and con∣trivance of these little Animals? What Architect could ever form so curious a structure, as they give a model of in their unimitable Combs? what ••ingdom can be governed with better discipline, than they exactly observe in their respective hives? While the Horse, by turning a Rebel

to Nature, and becoming a Slave to Man, under∣goes the worst of tyranny: he is sometimes spurr'd on to battle, so long till he draw his guts after him for trapping, and at last falls down, and bites the ground instead of Grass; not to mention the penalty of his jaws being curbed, his tail dock'd, his back wrung, his sides spurr-gall'd, his close imprisonment in a Stable, his rapshin, and fetters when he runs a grass, and a great many other plagues; which he might have avoided, if he had kept to that first station of freedom, which Na∣ture placed him in. How much more desireable is the unconfined range of Flies, and Birds, who living by instinct, would want nothing to com∣plete their happiness, if some well-imployed Domitian would not persecute the former, nor the fly Fowler lay snares, and gins for the intrapping of the other? And if young Birds, before their unfledg'd wings can carry them from their nests, are caught, and pent up in a Cage, for the being taught to sing, or whistle; all their new tunes make not half so sweet Musick, as their wild notes, and natural melody: so much does that, which is but rough-drawn by Nature, surpass, and excell all the additional paint, and varnish of Art. And we cannot sure but commend, and admire that Pythagorean Cock, which (as Lucian relates) had been successively a man, a woman, a Prince, a subject, a fish, a horse, and a frog; after all his experience he summ'd up his judgment in this cen∣sure, That Man was the most wretched, and de∣plorable of all creatures, all other patiently grazing within the enclosures of Nature, while

Man only broke out, and strayed beyond those safer limits, which he was justly confined to. And Gryllus is to be adjudg'd wiser than the much coun∣selling Vlysses, in as much as when by the inchant∣ment of Circe he had been turned into a Hog, he would not lay down his swinishness, nor forsake his beloved Stie, to run the peril of a hazardous voyage. For a farther confirmation whereof I have the authority of Homer, that Captain of all Poetry, who, as he gives to mankind in general the Epithete of wretched, and unhappy; so he be∣stows in particular upon Vlysses the title of mise∣rable, which he never attributes to Paris, Ajax, Achilles, or any other of the Commanders, and that for this reason, because Vlysses was more crafty, cautious, and wise, than any of the rest.

As those therefore fall shortest of happiness, that reach highest at Wisdom, meeting with the greater repulse for soaring beyond the boundaries of their nature, and without remembring them∣selves to be but men, like the fallen Angels daring to vye with Omnipotence, and Giant-like scale Heaven with the Engines of their own Brain; so are those most exalted in the road of bliss, that degenerate nearest into Brutes, and quietly divest themselves of all use, and exercise of Reason.

And this we can prove by a familiar instance. As namely, can there be any one sort of men, that enjoy themselves better, than those which we call Idiots, Changelings, Fools, and Naturals? It may perhaps sound harsh, but upon due consi∣deration it will be found abundantly true, that these persons in all circumstances fare best, and

live most comfortably: As first, they are void of all fear, which is a very great priviledge to be exempted from; they are troubled with no remorse, nor pricks of conscience; they are not frighted with any bug-bear stories of another world; they startle not at the fancied appearance of Ghosts, or apparitions; they are not wrack'd with the dread of impending mischiefs, nor ban∣died with the hopes of any expected enjoyments: In short, they are unassaulted by all those legions of cares, that war against the quiet of Rational souls; they are ashamed of nothing, fear no man, banish the uneasiness of ambition, envy, and love; and to adde the reversion of a future happiness to the enjoyment of a present one, they have no sin neither to answer for, Divines unanimously main∣taining, that a gross, and unavoidable ignorance does not only extenuate, and abate from the ag∣gravation, but wholly expiate the guilt of any immorality.

Come now then as many of you, as challenge the respect of being accounted wise, ingenuously confess, how many insurrections of rebellious thoughts, and pangs of a labouring mind, ye are perpetually thrown, and tortur'd with; reckon up all those inconveniences that you are unavoi∣dably subject to, and then tell me, whether fools, by being exempted from all these embroilments, are not infinitely more free, and happy, than your selves? Adde to this, that Fools do not barely laugh, and sing, and play the good fellow alone to themselves; but as it is the nature of good to be communicative, so they impart their mirth to

others, by making sport for the whole company, they are at any time engaged in, as if Providence purposely design'd them for an Antidote to Me∣lancholly: whereby they make all persons so fond of their society, that they are welcomed to all places, hugg'd, caress'd, and defended; a liberty given them of saying, or doing any thing; so well beloved, that none dares to offer them the least injury, nay, the most ravenous beasts of prey will pass them by untouch'd, as if by instinct they were warned, that such innocence ought to re∣ceive no hurt. Farther, their converse is so ac∣ceptable in the Court of Princes, that few Kings will banquet, walk, or take any other diversion, without their attendance; nay, and had much rather have their company, than that of their gravest Counsellors, whom they maintain more for fashion sake, than good will; nor is it so strange, that these fools should be preferr'd before graver Politicians, since these last, by their harsh, sowr advice, and ill timing the truth, are fit only to put a Prince out of the humour, while the o∣ther laugh, and talk, and joque, without any dan∣ger of disobliging.

It is one farther very commendable property of Fools, that they always speak the truth, than which there is nothing more noble, and Heroical. For so, though Plato relate it as a sentence of Al∣cibiades, That in the Sea of Drunkenness Truth swims uppermost, and so Wine is the only teller of Truth; yet this character may more justly be assumed by me, as I can make good from the au∣thority of Euripides, who lays down this as an

Axiome, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Children and Fools al∣ways speak the truth. Whatever the fool has in his heart, he betrays it in his face, or, what is more notifying, discovers it by his words: while the wise man, as Euripides observes, carries a double tongue; the one to speak what may be said, the other what ought to be; the one what truth, the other what the time requires: whereby he can in a trice so alter his judgment, as to prove that to be now white, which he had just before swore to be black, like the Satyr at his Porrage, blowing hot and cold at the same breath; in his lips professing one thing, when in his heart he means another.

Farthermore, Princes in their greatest splen∣dour seem upon this account unhappy, in that they miss the advantage of being told the truth, and are shamm'd off by a parcel of insinuating Courtiers, that acquit themselves as Flatterers more than as Friends. But some will perchance object, that Princes do not love to hear the truth, and therefore wise men must be very cautious, how they behave themselves before them, least they should take too great a liberty in speaking what is true, rather than what is acceptable. This must be confest, Truth indeed is seldom palatable to the ears of Kings, yet Fools have so great a priviledge as to have free leave, not only to speak bare truths, but the most bitter ones too: so as the same reproof, which had it come from the mouth of a Wise man, would have cost him his head; being blurted out by a Fool, is not on∣ly pardoned, but well taken, and rewarded. For

Truth has naturally a mixture of pleasure, if it carry with it nothing of offence to the person whom it is applied to; and the happy knack of ordering it so, is bestowed only on Fools. Tis for the same reason that this sort of men are more fondly beloved by women, who like their tum∣bling them about, and playing with them, though never so boisterously, pretending to take that only in jest, which they would have to be meant in earnest, as that Sex is very ingenious in palli∣ating, and dissembling the bent of their wanton inclinations.

But to return. An additional happiness of these Fools appears farther in this, That when they have run merrily on to their last stage of life, they neither find any fear, nor feel any pain to die, but march contentedly to the other world, where their company sure must be as acceptable, as it was here upon earth.

Let us draw now a comparison between the con∣dition of a Fool, and that of a Wise man, and see how infinitely the one outweighs the other.

Give me any instance then of a man as wise as you can fancy him possible to be, that has spent all his younger years in poring upon books, and trudging after learning; in the pursuit whereof he squanders away the pleasantest time of his life in watching, sweat, and fasting, and in his latter days he never tasts one mouthful of delight, but is alway stingy, poor, dejected, melancholly, bur∣densom to himself, and unwelcom to others, pale, lean, thin-jaw'd, sickly, contracting by his seden∣tariness such hurtful distempers, as bring him to

an untimely death, like Roses pluckt before they shatter. Thus have you the draught of a Wise man's happiness, more the object of a commise∣rating Pitty, than of an ambitioning Envy.

But now again come the croaking Stoicks, and tell me in mood, and figure, That nothing is more miserable, than the being mad: but the being a Fool, is the being mad, therefore there is no∣thing more miserable than the being a Fool. A∣lass, this is but a Fallacy, the discovery whereof solves the force of the whole Syllogism. Well then, they argue subtilly, tis true, but as Socra∣tes in Plato makes two Venus's, and two Cupids, and shews how their actions and properties ought not to be confounded; so these Disputants, if they had not been mad themselves, should have distin∣guished between a double Madness in others: and there is certainly a great difference in the nature, as well as in the degrees of them, and they are not both equally scandalous: for Horace seems to take delight in one sort, when he says,

— An me ludit amabilis Insania? —

Does welcome Frenzy make me thus mistake?

And Plato in his Phaedron ranks the madness of Poets, of Prophets, and of Lovers, among those properties which conduce to a happy life. And Virgil, in his sixth Aenead, gives this Epithete to the industrious Aeneas,

Quod si —

—Insano juvat indulgere labori:

If you'l proceed to these your mad attempts.

And indeed there is a twofold sort of Madness: The one, that which the Furies bring from Hell; those that are herewith possess'd, are hurried on to wars, and contentions, by an inexhaustible thirst of power, and riches, inflamed to some in∣famous, and unlawful lust, inraged to act the Parricide, seduced to become guilty of incest, sacriledge, or some other of those crimson-died crimes; or finally, to be so prickt in conscience, as to be lash'd, and stung with the whips, and snakes of grief, and remorse. But there is ano∣ther sort of Madness, that proceeds from Folly; so far from being any way injurious, or distastful, that it is throughly good, and desireable: And this happens, when by a harmless mistake in the judg∣ment of things, the mind is freed from those cares, which would otherwise gratingly afflict it; and smooth'd over with a content, and satisfaction, it could not under other circumstances so happily enjoy. And this is that comfortable Apathy, or insensibleness, which Cicero, in an Epistle to his friend Atticus, wishes himself master of, that he might the less take to heart those insufferable out∣rages committed by the tyrannizing Triumvirate, Lepidus, Antonius, and Augustus. That Grecian likewise had a happy time of it, who was so fran∣tick, as to sit a whole day in the empty Theatre laughing, shouting, and clapping his hands, as if he had really seen some pathetick Tragedy acted

to the life, when indeed all was no more than the strength of imagination, and the efforts of de∣lusion, while in all other respects the same person behaved himself very discreetly, was

— Iucundus amicis, Comis in uxorem, possetque ignoscere ser••is, Et signo laesae non insanire lagenae.

Sweet to his friends, to's wife obliging, kind, And so averse from a revengeful mind, That had his servants unseal'd his bottled wine, He would not fret, nor doggedly repine.

And when by a course of Physick he was reco∣vered from this phrensy, he looked upon his cure so far from a kindness, that he thus reasons the case with his friends:

— Pol me occidistis amici, Non servâstis, — cui sic extorta voluptaes, Et dempt us per vim mentis gratissimus error.

This Remedy, my friends, is worse ith' main Than the Disease, the Cure augments the pain My only hopes is a relapse again.

And certainly they were the more mad of the two, who endeavoured to bereave him of so plea∣sing a delirium, and recall all the aches of his head by dispelling the mists of his brain.

I have not yet determined, whether it be pro∣per to include all the defects of sense and under∣standing

under the common genus of Madness. For if any one be so short-sighted, as to take a Mule for an Ass, or so shallow-pated, as to ad∣mire a paltry Ballad for an elegant Poem, he is not thereupon immediately censured as mad: but if any one let not only his Senses, but his Judg∣ment be imposed upon in the most ordinary com∣mon concerns, he shall come under the scandal of being thought next door to a madman: as sup∣pose any one should hear an Ass bray, and should take it for ravishing Musick; or if any one, born a beggar, should fancy himself as great as a Prince, or the like. But this sort of Madness, if (as is most usual) it be accompanied with pleasure, brings a great satisfaction, both to those who are possess'd with it themselves, and those who deride it in others, though they are not both equally frantick. And this species of Madness is of larger extent than the world commonly imagines. Thus the whole tribe of Madmen make sport among themselves, while one laughs at another; under that is more mad, man•• times jeering him that is less so. But indeed the greater each man's Madness is, the greater is his happiness, if it be but such a sort as proceeds from an excess of Folly, which is so Epidemical a distemper, that it is hard to find any one man so uninfected, as not to have some∣times a fit or two of some sort of Phrensy. There is only this difference between the several Pati∣ents: He that shall take a Broom-stick for a streight-bodied woman, is without more adoe sentenc'd for a Mad-man, because this is so strange a blunder as very seldom happens; whereas he

whose wife is a common Jilt, that keeps a ware∣house free for all customers, and yet swears she is as chast as an untouch'd Virgin, and huggs him∣self in his contented mistake, is scarce taken no∣tice of, because he fares no worse than a great many more of his good-natur'd neighbours. A∣mong these are to be ranked such as take an immoderate delight in Hunting, and think no Musick comparable to the sounding of Horns, and the yelping of Beagles; and were they to take Physick, would no question think the most sove∣reign virtues to be in the Album Graecum of a dogs∣turd: when they have run down their Game, what strange pleasure they take in cutting of it up! Cows, and Sheep may be slaughter'd by common Butchers, but what is kill'd in hunting must be broke up by none under a Gentleman, who shall throw down his Hat, fall devoutly on his knees, and drawing out a slashing Hanger, (for a com∣mon knife is not good enough) after several ce∣remonies shall dissect all the parts as artificially, as the best skill'd Anatomist; while all that stand round, shall look very intently, and seem to be mightily surprized with the novelty, though they have seen the same an hundred times before; and he that can but dip his finger, and tast of the bloud, shall think his own better'd by it; and though the constant feeding on such diet, does but assimilate them to the nature of those Beasts they eat of, yet they'l swear that Venison is meat for Princes, and that their living upon it makes them as great as Emperours.

Near a kin to these, are such as take a great

fancy for Building: They raise up, pull down, begin a new, alter the modell, and never rest, till they run themselves out of their whole Estate, taking up such a compass for Buildings, till they leave themselves not one foot of land to live upon, nor one poor Cottage to shelter themselves from cold, and hunger: and yet all the while are migh∣ty proud of their contrivances, and sing a sweet requiem to their own happiness.

To these are to be added those plodding Ver∣tuoso s, that plunder the most inward recesses of Nature, for the pillage of a new Invention, and rake over Sea and Land for the turning up some hitherto latent mystery, and are so continually tickled with the hopes of success, that they spare for no cost, nor pains, but trudge on, and upon a defeat in one attempt couragiously tack about to another, and fall upon new experiments, never giving over, till they have calcined their whole Estate to ashes, and have not money enough left unmelted to purchase one Crucible, or Limbeck: And yet after all, they are not so much discoura∣ged, but that they dream fine things still, and ani∣mate others what they can to the like underta∣kings; nay, when their hopes come to the last gasp, after all their disappointments they have yet one Salvo for their credit, that

In Magnis voluisse sat est.

In Great Exploits our bare attempts suffice,

And so inveigh against the shortness of their life,

which allows them not time enough to bring their designs to a maturity, and perfection.

Whether Dice players may be so favourably dealt with, as to be admitted among the rest is scarce yet resolved upon: but sure it is hugely vain, and ridiculous, when we see some persons so devoutly addicted to this diversion, that at the first rattle of the Box their heart shakes within them, and keeps confort with the motion of the Dice: They are egg'd on so long with the hopes of always winning, till at last in a literal sense they have thrown away their whole Estate, and made shipwrack of all they have, scarce escaping to shore with their own cloaths to their backs, think∣ing it in the mean while a great piece of religion to be just in the payment of their stakes, and will cheat any Creditour sooner than him who trusts them in play: And that poring old men, that cannot tell their Cast without the help of Spe∣ctacles, should be sweating at the same sport, nay that such decrepit blades, as by the Gout have lost the use of their fingers, should look over, and hire others to throw for them, This indeed is prodigi∣ously extravagant, but the consequence of it ends so oft in right down Madness, that it seems rather to belong to the Furies, than to Folly.

The next to be placed among the regiment of Fools, are such as make a trade of telling, or in∣quiring after incredible stories of Miracles, and Prodigies: never doubting that a lie will choak them, they'l muster up a thousand several strange relations of Spirits, Ghosts, Apparitions, Raising of the Devil, and such like Bug bears of Supersti∣tion,

which the farther they are from being pro∣bably true, the more greedily they are swallowed, and the more devoutly believed. And these ab∣surdities do not only bring an empty pleasure, and cheap divertisement, but they are a good trade, and procure a comfortable income to such Priests, and Friers, as by this craft get their gain. To these again are nearly related such others, as at∣tribute strange virtues to the Shrines, and Images of Saints, and Martyrs, and so would make their credulous Proselytes believe, that if they pay their Devotion to St. Christopher in the morning, they shall be guarded, and secured the day follow∣ing from all dangers, and misfortunes: If Soul∣diers, when they first take arms, shall come, and mumble over such a sett-prayer before the pi∣cture of St. Barbara, they shall return safe from all Engagements; or if any pray to Erasmus on such particular holy days, with the ceremony of Wax candles, and other fopperies, he shall in a short time be rewarded with a plentiful increase of wealth, and riches. The Christians have now their Gigantick St. George, as well as the Pagans had their Hercules; they paint this Saint on horse∣back, and drawing the horse in splendid trappings, very gloriously accoutred, they scarce refrain in a literal sense from worshipping the very Beast.

What shall I say of such as crie up, and main∣tain the cheat of Pardons, and Indulgences? that by these compute the time of each Soul's residence in Purgatory, and assign them a longer or shor∣ter continuance, according as they purchase more, of sewer of these paltry Pardons, and salable Ex∣emptions?

Or what can be said bad enough of such others, as pretend, that by the force of such Magical charms, or by the fumbling over their beads in the rehearsal of such and such Petitions, (which some Religious Impostors invented, either for Diversion, or, what is more likely, for Advan∣tage) they shall procure Riches, Honour, Plea∣sure, Health, Long life, a lust•• old Age, nay after death, a sitting at the right hand of our Saviour in his Kingdom; though as to this last part of their happiness, they care not how long it be deferr'd, having scarce any appetite toward a tasting the joys of Heaven, till they are furfeited, glutted with, and can no longer rellish, their enjoyments on Earth. By this easie way of purchasing Pardons any notorious. High way-man, any plundring Souldier, or any Bribe-taking Judge, shall disburse some part of their unjust gains, and so think all their grossest impieties sufficiently atoned for; so many perjuries, lusts, drunkenness, quarrels, bloudsheds, cheats, treacheries, and all forts of debaucheries, shall all be, as it were, struck a bargain for, and such a contract made, as if they had paid off all arrears, and might now begin up∣on a new score.

And what can be more ridiculous, than for some∣others to be confident of going to Heaven, by re∣peating daily those seven verses out of the Psalms, which the Devil taught St. Bernard, thinking thereby to have put a trick upon him, but that he was overreacht in his cunning?.

Several of these fooleries, which are so gross, and absurd, as I my self am even ashamed to

own, are practised, and admired, not only by the vulgar, but by such proficients in Religion, as one might well expect should have more wit.

From the same principles of Folly proceeds the custom of each Countrey's challenging their par∣ticular Guardian-Saint, nay, each Saint has his distinct office allotted to him, and is accordingly address'd to upon the respective occasions: As one for the Tooth-ach, another to grant an easie Delivery in child-birth, a third to help persons to lost goods, another to protect Sea-men in a long Voyage, a fifth to guard the Farmers cows, and sheep, and so on; for to rehearse all instances, would be extreamly tedious.

There are some more Catholick Saints petitio∣ned to upon all occasions, as more especially the Virgin Mary, whose blind Devotees think it man∣ners now to place the Mother before the Son.

And of all the Prayers, and Intercessions, that are made to these respective Saints, the substance of them is no more than right-down Folly. Among all the trophies, that for tokens of gratitude are hung upon the walls, and ceilings of Churches, you shall find no Reliques presented as a Memo∣randum of any that were ever cured of Folly, or had been made one dram the wiser. One perhaps, after a Shipwrack, got safe to Shore; another recovered, when he had been run through by an enemy; one, when all his fellow-souldiers were kill'd upon the spot, as cunningly perhaps, as cowardly made his escape from the field; another, while he was a hanging, the rope broke, and so he saved his neck, and renewed his License for

practising his old trade of thieving. Another broke Jail, and got loose; a Patient, against his Physitian's will, recovered of a dangerous Feaver; another drank poyson, which putting him into a violent loosness, did his body more good, than hurt, to the great grief of his wife, who hoped upon this occasion to have become a joyful wi∣dow: Another had his waggon overturned, and yet none of his horses lamed: Another had caught a grievous fall, and yet recovered from the bruise: Another had been tampering with his neighbours wife, and escaped very narrowly from being catcht by the enraged Cuckold in the very act. After all these acknowledgements of Escapes from such singular dangers, there is none (as I have before intimated) that returns thanks for being freed from Folly; Folly being so sweet, and lu∣scious, that it is rather sued for, as a happiness, than deprecated as a punishment. But why should I launch out into so wide a sea of super∣stitions?

Non mihi si linguae centum sint, oraque centum, Ferrea vox, omnes fatuorum evolvere formas, Omnia stultitiae percurrere nomina possim.

Had I as many tongues as Argus eyes, Briareus hands, they all would not suffice Folly in all her shapes t' epitomise.

Almost all Christians being wretchedly enslaved to blindness, and ignorance, which the Priests are so far from preventing, or removing, that they

blacken the darkness, and promote the delusion; wisely foreseeing, that the people (like cows, which never give down their milk so well, as when they are gently stroked) would part with less, if they knew more, their bounty proceeding only from a mistake of charity. Now if any grave, wife man should stand up, and unseasonably speak the truth, telling every one, That a pious Life is the only way of securing a happy Death; that the best title to a Pardon of our Sins, is purchased by a hearty Abhorrence of our Guilt, and sincere re∣solutions of Amendment; that the best devotion, which can be paid to any Saints, is to imitate them in their exemplary life: if he should pro∣ceed thus to inform them of their several mi∣stakes, there would be quite another estimate put upon Tears, Watchings, Masses, Fastings, and other severities, which before were so much pri∣zed, as persons will now be vext to loose that sa∣tisfaction, they formerly found in them.

In the same predicament of Fools are to be ranked such, as while they are yet living, and in good health, take so great care how they shall be buried when they dye, that they solemnly ap∣point how many Torches, how many Scutcheons, how many Gloves to be given, and how many Mourners they will have at their Funeral; as if they thought They themselves in their Coffins could be sensible of what respect was paid to their Corps, or as if they doubted they should rest a whit the less quiet in the Grave, if they were with less state, and pomp interr'd.

Now, though I am in so great hast, as I would

not willingly be stopt, or detained, yet I cannot pass by without bestowing some remarques upon another sort of Fools; who, though their first Descent was perhaps no better than from a Tap∣ster, or Tinker, yet highly value themselves up∣on their Birth, and Parentage. One fetches his pedigree from Aeneas, another from Brute, a third from King Arthur: They hang up their Ance∣stours worm-eaten pictures as Records of Anti∣quity, and keep a long list of their Predecessors, with an account of all their Offices, and Titles, while they themselves are but Transcripts of their Fore-fathers dumb Statues, and degenerate even into those very Beasts, which they carry in their Coat of Arms, as Ensigns of their Nobility: And yet by a strong presumption of their Birth, and Quality, they live not only the most pleasant, and unconcerned themselves, but there are not wanting others too, who cry up these Brutes almost equal to the Gods. But why should I dwell upon one or two instances of Folly, when there are so many of like nature? Conceitedness, and Self-love, mak∣ing many by strength of fancie believe themselves happy, when otherwise they are really wretched, and despicable. Thus the most Ape-fac'd, ugliest fellow in the whole town, shall think himself a mirrour of Beauty: Another shall be so proud of his parts, that if he can but mark out a Trian∣gle with a pair of Compasses, he thinks he has mastred all the difficulties of Geometry, and could out-doe Euclid himself. A third shall admire himself for a ravishing Musitian, though he have no more skill in the handling of any Instrument,

than a Pig playing on the Organs: And another, that rattles in the throat, as hoarse as a Cock crows, shall be proud of his voice, and think he sings like any Nightingale.

There is another very pleasant sort of Madness, whereby persons assume to themselves, whatever of accomplishment they discern in others. Thus the happy rich Churl in Seneca, who had so short a memory, as he could not tell the least story with∣out a servants standing by to prompt him, and was at the same time so weak, as he could scarce go upright; yet he thought he might adventure to accept a challenge to a Duell, because he kept at home some lusty sturdy fellows, whose strength he relied upon instead of his own.

It is almost needless to insist upon the several Professours of Arts, and Sciences, who are all so egregiously conceited, that they would sooner give up their Title to an estate in Lands, than part with the Reversion of their Wits: Among These, more especially Stage players, Musitians, Oratours, and Poets, each of which; the more of Duncery they have, the more of Pride, and the less their Deserts be, the greater is their Ambi∣tion: And how notoriously soever dull they be, they meet ••et with their Admirers; nay, the more silly they are, the higher they are extoll'd: Folly (as we have before intimated) never failing of re∣spect, and esteem. If therefore every one, the more ignorant he is, the greater satisfaction he is to himself, and the more commended by others, to what purpose is it to sweat, and toil in the pursuit of true Learning, which shall cost so many

gripes, and pangs of the Brain to acquire; and when obtained, shall only make the laborious Stu∣dent more uneasie to himself, and less acceptable to others?.

As Nature in her dispensations of Conceited∣ness has dealt with private persons, so has she given a particular smatch of Self-love to each Country, and Nation. Upon this account it is, that the English challenge the prerogative of having the most handsom Women, of the being most accom∣plished in the skill of Musick, and of keeping the best Tables: The Scotch brag of their Gentility, and pretend the Genius of their native Soil in∣clines them to be good Disputants. The French think themselves remarkable for Complaisance, and good Breeding: The Sorbonists of Paris pre∣tend before any others to have made the greatest proficiency in Polemick Divinity: The Italians value Themselves for Learning, and Eloquence, and like the Grecians of old, account all the world Barbarians in respect of themselves; to which piece of vanity the inhabitants of Rome are more especially addicted, pretending themselves to be owners of all those Heroick virtues, which their City so many ages since was deservedly famous for. The Venetians stand upon their Birth, and Pedi∣gree. The Grecians pride themselves in having been the first inventers of most Arts, and in their Country being famed for the product of so many eminent Philosophers. The Turks, and all the other Refuse of Mahometisme, pretend they pro∣fess the only true Religion, and laugh at all Chri∣stians for superstitious, narrow-soul'd fools. The

Iews to this day expect their Messias, as devoutly, as they believe in their first Prophet Moses. The Spaniards challenge the repute of being accounted good Souldiers: and the Germans are noted for their tall, proper stature, and for their skill in Magick. But not to mention any more, I sup∣pose you are already convinced, how great an im∣provement, and addition to the happiness of hu∣mane Life is occasioned by Self-love: Next step to which is Flattery; for as Self-love is nothing but the coquesing up of our selves, so the same currying and humouring of others, is termed Flat∣tery.

Flattery, it is true, is now looked upon as a scandalous name, but it is by such only, as mind words more than things. They are prejudiced against it upon this account, because they sup∣pose it justles out all Truth, and Sincerity: where∣as indeed its property is quite contrary, as ap∣pears from the examples of several brute crea∣tures: What is more fawning than a Spaniel, and yet what is more faithful to his Master? what is more fond, and loving than a tame Squirrel, and yet what is more sporting, and inoffensive? This little frisquing creature is kept up in a cage to play withall, while Lions, Tigers, Leopards, and such other savage Emblems of rapine, and cruelty, are shewn only for state, and rarity, and other∣wise yield no pleasure to their respective keepers.

There is indeed a pernicious destructive sort of Flattery, wherewith Rookers, and Sharkes work their several ends upon such as they can make a prey of, by decoying them into traps, and snares,

beyond recovery: But that which is the effect of Folly, is of a much different nature; It proceeds from a softness of spirit, and a flexibleness of good humour, and comes far nearer to virtue, than that other extream of Friendship, namely a stiff, sowr, dogged moroseness: It refreshes our minds when tired, enlivens them when melancholly, re∣inforces them when languishing, invigorates them when heavy, recovers them when sick, and paci∣fies them when rebellious: It puts us in a method how to procure Friends, and how to keep them; It entices children to swallow the bitter rudiments of Learning; It gives a new ferment to the al∣most stagnated souls of old men; It both re∣proves, and instructs Princes without offence, under the masque of commendation: In short, it makes every man fond, and indulgent of himself, which is indeed no small part of each mans hap∣piness, and at the same time renders him obliging, and complaisant in all company, where it is plea∣sant to see how the Asses rub, and scratch one an∣other. This again is a great accomplishment to an Oratour, a greater to a Physitian, and the only one to a Poet: In fine, it is the best sweetner to all afflictions, and gives a true rellish to the other∣wise insipid enjoyments of our whole life. Ay but (say you) to Flatter, is to Deceive; and to Deceive, is very harsh, and hurtful: No, rather just contra∣ry; nothing is more welcome, and bewitching, than the being deceived. They are much to be blamed for an undistinguishing head, that make a judgment of things according to what they are in themselves, when their whole nature consists

barely in the opinions that are had of them. For all sublunary matters are inveloped in such a cloud of obscurity, that the short-sightedness of humane understanding cannot prie through, and arrive to any comprehensive knowledge of them: Hence the Sect of Academick Philosophers have modestly resolved, that All things being no more than Probable, Nothing can be known as Certain; or if the••e could, yet would it but interrupt, and abate from the pleasure of a more happy Ignorance. Finally, our souls are so fashioned and moulded, that they are sooner captivated by Appearances, than by Real Truths; of which, if any one would demand an example, he may find a very famillar one in Churches, where, if what is delivered from the Pulpit be a grave, solid, rational discourse, all the congregation grow weary, and fall asleep, till their patience be released; whereas if the Preacher (pardon the impropriety of the word, the Prater I would have said) be zealous in his thumps of the cushion, and antick gestures, and spend his Glass in the telling of pleasant stories, his Beloved shall then stand up, tuck their hair be∣hind their ears, and be very devoutly attentive. So among the Saints, Those are most resorted to, who are most Romantick, and fabulous: As for instance, a Poetick St. George, a St. Christopher, or a St. Barbara, shall be oftner pray'd to, than St. Peter, St. Paul, nay perhaps than Christ himself: But This, it is possible, may more properly be re∣ferr'd to another place.

In the mean while observe, what a cheap pur∣chase of happiness is made by the strength of fancy.

For whereas many things, even of inconsiderable value, would cost a great deal of pains, and per∣haps pelf, to procure; Opinion spares charges, and yet gives us them in as ample a manner by conceit, as if we possess'd them in reality. Thus he who feeds on such a stinking dish of Fish, as another must hold his nose at a yards distance from; yet if he feed heartily, and rellish them palatably, they are to him as good, as if they were fresh caught: whereas on the other hand, if any one be invited to never so dainty a Joul of Sturgeon, if it go a∣gainst his stomach to eat any, he may sit a hungry, and bite his nails with greater appetite, than his victuals. If a woman be never so ugly, and nau∣seous, yet if her husband can but think her hand∣some, it is all one to him, as if she really were so: If any man have never so ordinary and smutty a draught, yet if he admires the excellency of it, and can suppose it to have been drawn by some old Apelles, or modern Vandike, he is as proud of it, as if it had really been done by one of their hands. I knew a friend of mine, that presented his Bride with several false, and counterfeit Stones, making her believe, that they were right Jewels, and cost him so many hundred thousand crowns: under this mistake the poor woman was as choice of Pebbles, and painted glass, as if they had been so many natural Rubies, and Diamonds, while the subtle husband sav'd a great deal in his pocket, and yet made his wife as well pleased, as if he had been at ten hundred times the cost. What diffe∣rence is there between Them, that in the darkest dungeon can with a Platonick brain survey the

whole world in Idea, and Him that stands in the open air, and takes a less deluding prospect of the Universe? If the Beggar in Lucian, that dreamt he was a Prince, had never wak'd, his imaginary Kingdom had been as great, as a real one. Be∣tween him therefore that truly is Happy, and him that thinks himself so, there is no perceivable di∣stinction; or if any, the Fool has the better of it: First, because his happiness costs him less, standing him only in the price of a single thought; and then, secondly, because he has more fellow-compa∣nions, and partakers of his good fortune: for no enjoyment is comfortable, where the benefit is not imparted to others; nor is any one station of life desireable, where we can have no converse with persons of the same condition with our selves: and yet This is the hard fate of Wise men, who are grown so scarce, that like Phenixes, they appear but one in an Age. The Grecian s, it is true, reckoned up seven within the narrow precincts of their own country; yet I believe, were they to cast up their accounts anew, they would not find a half, nay not a third part of one in a far larger extent.

Farther, when among the several good pro∣perties of Bacchus, This is look'd upon as the chief, namely, that he drowns the cares, and anxieties of the mind, though it be indeed but for a short while; for after a small knap, when our brains are a little settled, they all return to their former corrodings: How much greater is the more durable advantage which I bring? while by one uninterrupted sitt of being drunk in con∣ce't,

I perpetually cajole the mind with riots, revells, and all the excess, and energy of Joy.

Add to this, that I am so communicative, and bountiful, as to let no one particular person pass without some token of my favour: whereas other Deities bestow their gifts sparingly to their Elect only. Bacchus has not thought fit, that every Soil should bear the same Juice-yielding grape: Venus has not given to all a like portion of beau∣ty: Mercury endows but few with the knack of an accomplished Eloquence: Hercules gives not to all the same measure of Wealth, and Riches: Iu∣piter has ordained but a few to be born to a King∣dom: Mars in battel gives the compleat victory but to one party, nay he often makes them both loosers: Apollo does not answer the expectation of all that consult his Oracles: Iove oft thunders: Phoebus sometimes shoots the plague, or some o∣ther infection, at the point of his Darts: and Neptune swallows down more, than he bears up: Not to mention their Ve-Iupiters, their Pluto's, their Ate Goddess of Loss, their evil Genius's, and such other Monsters of Divinity, as had more of the Hangman than the God in them, and were worshipped only to deprecate that hurt, which used to be inflicted by them: I say, not to mention These, I am that high, and mighty Goddess, whose liberality is of as large an extent, as her omnipotence: I give to all that ask; I never appear sullen, nor out of humour, nor ever demand any atonement, or satisfaction for the omission of any ceremonious punctilio in my Worship: I do not storm, or rage, if Mortals, in their addresses to the other Gods,

pass me by unregarded, without the acknowledg∣ment of any respect, or application: Whereas all the other Gods are so scrupulous, and exact, that it often proves less dangerous manfully to despise them, than sneakingly to attempt the difficulty of pleasing them. Thus some men are of that captious, froward humour, that a man had better be wholly strangers to them, than ne∣ver so intimate friends.

Well, but there are none (say you) build any Altars, or dedicate any Temple to Folly. I admire (as I have before intimated) that the world should be so wretchedly ungrateful. But I am so good-natur'd, as to pass by, and pardon this seeming affront, though indeed the charge thereof, as un∣necessary, may well be saved, For to what pur∣pose should I demand the sacrifice of Frankincense, Cakes, Goats, and Swine, since all persons every where pay me that more acceptable service, which all Divines agree to be more effectuall, and meri∣torious, namely, an imitation of my communica∣ble Attributes? I do not therefore any way envy Diana, for having her Altars bedewed with hu∣mane bloud: I think my self then most religiously adored, when my respective Devotees (as is their usual custom) conform themselves to my practice, transcribe my pattern, and so live the copy of Me their Original. And truly this pious Devotion is not so much in use among Christians, as is much to be wished it were: For how many zealous Vo∣taries are there, that pay so profound a respect to the Virgin Mary, as to place lighted Tapers even at Noon-day upon her Altars? And yet how few

of them copy after her untouch'd chastity, her modesty, and her other commendable virtues, in the imitation whereof consists the truest esteem of Divine worship? Farther, why should I desire a Temple, since the whole world is but one ample continued Quire, entirely dedicated to my use, and service? Nor do I want Worshippers at any place, where the Earth wants not Inhabitants. And as to the manner of my Worship, I am not yet so irrecoverably foolish, as to be prayed to by proxy, and to have my honour intermediately bestowed upon sensless images, and pictures, which quite subvert the true end of Religion; while the unwary Supplicants seldome distinguish betwixt the things themselves, and the objects they represent. The same respect in the mean while is paid to me in a more legitimate manner; for to Me there are as many Statues erected, as there are mo∣ving Fabricks of Mortality; every person, even against his own will, carrying the image of Me, i.e. the signal of Folly instamped on his counte∣nance. I have not therefore the least tempting inducement to envy the more seeming state, and splendour of the other Gods, who are worship∣ped at fett times, and places; as Phoebus at Rhodes, Venus in her Cyprian Isle, Iuno in the City Argos, Minerva at Athens, Iupiter on the hill Olympus, Neptune at Tarentum, and Priapus in the town of Lampsacum; while, my Worship extending as far as my Influence, the whole World is my One Altar, whereon the most valuable Incense, and Sacrifice is perpetually offered up.

But lest I should seem to speak this with more

of confidence than truth, let us take a nearer view of the mode of mens Lives, whereby it will be rendred more apparently evident, what Lar∣gesses I every where bestow, and how much I am respected, and esteem'd of persons, from the high∣est to the basest quality. For the proof whereof, it being too tedious to insist upon each particu∣lar, I shall only mention such in general, as are most worthy the remarque, from which by ana∣logy we may easily judge of the remainder. And indeed to what purpose would it be singly to re∣count the commonalty, and rabble of mankind, who beyond all question are entirely on my side? And for a token of their vassalage do wear my li∣very in so many older shapes, and more newly in∣vented modes of Folly, that the lungs of a thou∣sand Democritus's would never hold out to such a laughter, as this subject would excite; and to these thousand must be superadded one more, to laugh at them, as much as They do at the o∣ther.

It is indeed almost incredible to relate, what mirth, what sport, what diversion, the groveling inhabitants here on Earth give to the above-seated Gods in Heaven: For these exalted Dei∣ties spend their fasting sober hours in listning to those Petitions that are offered up, and in suc∣couring such as they are appealed to for redress; but when they are a little entred at a glass of Nectar, they then throw off all serious concerns, and go, and place themselves on the ascent of some Promontory in Heaven, and from thence survey the little mole-hill of Earth. And trust

me, there cannot be a more delightsome prospect, than to view such a Theatre so stufft, and cramm'd with swarms of Fools. One falls de∣sperately in Love, and the more he is slighted, the more does his Spaniel-like passion increase: Another is wedded to Wealth, rather than to a Wife: A third pimps for his own Spouse, and is content to be a Cuckold, so he may wear his horns guilt: A fourth is haunted with a jealousie of his visiting Neighbous: Another sobs, and roars, and plays the child for the death of a Friend, or Relation; and least his own tears should not rise high enough to express the torrent of his grief, he hires other mourners to accom∣pany the Corps to the grave, and sing its Requi∣em in sighs, and lamentations: Another hypocri∣tically weeps at the funeral of one, whose death at heart he rejoyces for: Here a gluttonous Cor∣morant, whatever he can scrape up, thrusts all into his guts, to pacifie the cryings of hungry stomach: There a lazy wretch sits yawning, and stretching, and thinks nothing so desirable as sleep, and idleness: Some are extreamly industrious in other mens business, and sottishly neglectful of their own: Some think themselves rich, because their credit is great, though they can never pay till they break, and compound for their debts. One is so covetous, that he lives Poor to dye Rich. One for a little uncertain gain will venture cross the roughest Seas, and expose his life for the purchase of a livelyhood: Another will depend on the plun∣ders of War, rather than on the honest gains of Peace. Some will close with, and humour such

warm old Blades as have a good Estate, and no children of their own to bestow it upon: Others practise the same art of wheedling upon good old women, that have hoarded, and coffer'd up more bags, than they know how to dispose of; both of these sly Flatterers make fine sport for the Gods, when they are beat at their own weapons, and (as oft happens) are gull'd by those very persons they intended to make a prey of. There is another sort of base Scoundrels in Gentility, such scraping merchants, who although for the better vent of their commodities they lye, swear, cheat, and practise all the intrigues of dishonesty; yet think themselves no way inferiour to persons of the highest quality, only because they have raked together a plentiful Estate; and there are not wanting such insinuating hangers on, as shall caress, and compliment them with the greatest respect, in hopes to go snacks in some of their dishonest Gains. There are others so infected with the Philosophical Paradox of banishing Propriety, and having all things in common, that they make no conscience of fastning on, and purloyning what∣ever they can get, and converting it to their own use, and possession. There are some, who are rich only in wishes; and yet, while they barely dream of vast mountains of wealth, they are as happy, as if their imaginary fancies commenc'd real truths. Some put on the best side outermost, and starve themselves at home, to appear gay, and splendid abroad. One, with an open-handed free∣dome, spends all he lays his fingers on; another, with a Logick-fisted gripingness, catches at, and

grasps all he can come within the reach of. One apes it about in the streets, to court popularity; another consults his ease, and sticks to the confine∣ment of a Chimney-corner. Many others are tugging hard at Law for a trifle, and drive on an endless Suite, only to enrich a deferring Judge, or a knavish Advocate. One is for new-modelling a settled Government; another is for some nota∣ble Heroical attempt; and a third by all means must travail a Pilgrim to Rome, Ierusalem, or some Shrine of a Saint elsewhere, though he have no other business than the paying of a formal im∣pertinent Visit, leaving his wife, and children to fast, while he himself forsooth is gone to pray. In short if (as Lucian fancies Menippus to have done heretofore) any man could now again look down from the Orb of the Moon, he would see thick swarms, as it were, of Flies, and Gnats, that were quarrelling with each other, justling fight∣ing, fluttring, skipping, playing, just new produ∣ced, soon after decaying, and then immediately vanishing: And it can scarce be thought how many tumults, and tragedies, so inconsiderate a creature as Man does give occasion to, and that in so short a space, as the small Span of Life; sub∣ject to so many casualties, that the Sword, Pe∣stilence, and other Epidemick accidents, shall many times sweep away whole thousands at a brush.

But hold, I should but expose my self too far, and incur the guilt of being roundly laught at, if I proceed to enumerate the several kinds of the folly of the vulgar: I shall confine therefore my

following discourse only to such as challenge the repute of Wisdom, and seemingly pass for men of the soundest intellectuals. Among whom the Grammarians present themselves in the front; a sort of men, who would be the most miserable, the most slavish, and the most hateful of all persons, if I did not some way alleviate the pressures, and miseries of their Profession, by blessing them with a bewitching sort of Madness: For they are not only liable to those five Curses, which they so oft recite from the first five verses of Homer, but to five hundred more of a worse nature: As always damn'd to thirst, and hunger, to be choak'd with dust in their unsweep't Schools, (Schools shall I term them, or rather Elaboratories, nay Bride∣wels, and houses of Correction) to wear out them∣selves in fret, and drudgery; to be deafned with the noise of gaping Boys, and in short, to be stifled with heat, and stench: And yet they chearfully dispense with all these inconveniences, and by the help of a fond conceit, think themselves as happy as any then living; taking a great pride, and de∣light in frowning, and looking big upon the trembling Urchins, in boxing, slashing, striking with the ferula, and in the exercise of all their other methods of tyranny, while thus lording it over a parcel of young, weak chitts, they imitate the Cuman Ass, and think themselves as stately as a Lion, that domineers over all the inferiour herd: Elevated with this conceit, they can hold filth, and nastiness, to be an ornament; can re∣concile their nose to the most intolerable smells; and finally, think their wretched slavery the most

arbitrary Kingdom, which they would not ex∣change for the Jurisdiction of the most Sovereign Potentate: And they are yet more happy by a strong perswasion of their own parts, and abili∣ties; for thus, when their employment is only to rehearse silly stories, and Poetical fictions, they'l yet think themselves wiser than the best experienc'd Philosopher; nay, they have an art of making ordinary people, such as their School∣boys fond parents, to think them as considerable as their own Pride has made them: Add hereunto this other sort of ravishing pleasure; when any of them has found out who was the mother of An∣thises, or has lighted upon some old unusual word, such as Bubsequa, Bovinator, Manticulator, or o∣ther like obsolete cramp terms, or can, after a great deal of poring, spell out the Inscription of some batter'd Monument. Lord▪ What joy, what triumph, what congratulating their success? as if they had conquered Africa, or taken Babylon the Great. When they recite some of their fro∣thy, bombast Verses, if any happen to admire them, they are presently flush'd with the least hint of commendation, and devoutly thank Pythago∣ras for his grateful Hypothesis, whereby they are now become actuated with a descent of Virgil's Poetick Soul. Nor is any divertisment more pleasant, than when they meet to flatter, and cur∣ty one another; yet they are so critical, that if any one hap to be guilty of the least slip, or seem∣ing blunder, another shall presently correct him for it, and then to't they go in a tongue-combat, with all the fervour, spleen, and eagerness imagi∣nable.

May Priscian himself be my enemy, if what I am now going to say, be not exactly true. I knew an old Sophister, that was a Grecian, a Latinist, a Mathematician, a Philosopher, a Mu∣sitian, and all to the utmost perfection, who after threescore years experience in the world had spent the last twenty of them only in drudging to con∣quer the Criticisms of Grammar, and made it the chief part of his prayers, that his life might be so long spared, till he had learnt how rightly to distinguish betwixt the Eight parts of Speech, which no Grammarian, whether Greek, or Latin, had yet accurately done. If any chance to have placed that as a Conjunction, which ought to have been used as an Adverb, it is a sufficient alarm to raise a war, for the doing justice to the injur'd word. And since there have been as many se∣veral Grammers, as particular Grammarians, (nay more, for Aldus alone wrot five distinct Grammers for his own share) the Schoolmaster must be obliged to consult them all, sparing for no time, nor trouble, though never so great least he should be otherwise posed in any unob∣served Criticism, and so by an irreparable dis∣graced loose the reward of all his toil. It is indif∣ferent to me, whither you call this Folly, or Mad∣ness, since you must needs confess, that it is by my influence these School-tyrants, though in ne∣ver so despicable a condition, are so happy in their own thoughts, that they would not change fortunes with the most illustrious Sophy of Persia.

The Poets, however somewhat less beholde••

to me, own a professed dependance on me, be∣ing a sort of lawless blades, that by prescription claim a License to a Proverb; while the whole in∣tent of their profession is only to smooth up, and tickle the ears of fools, and that by meer toys, and fabulous shamms, with which (however ridi∣culous) they are so bolstred up in an aiery imagi∣nation, as to promise themselves an everlasting name, and promise by their balderdash at the same time to celebrate the never dying memory of others. To these rapturous wits Self-love, and Flattery are never-failing Attendants, nor do any prove more zealous, or constant Devotees to Folly.

The Rhetoricians likewise, though they are am∣bitious of being rank'd among the Philosophers, yet are apparently of my Faction, as appears a∣mong other arguments by this more especially; In that among their several Topicks of complea∣ting the art of Oratory, they all particularly in∣sist upon the knack of Iesting, which is one species of Folly; as is evident from the books of Ora∣tory wrot to Herennius, put among Cicero's works, but done by some other unknown Author; and in Quintilian that great Master of Eloquence, there is one large Chapter spent in prescribing the me∣thods of raising Laughter; In short, they may well attribute a great efficacy to Folly, since on any argument they can many times by a slight laugh over what they could never seriously con∣fute.

Of the same gang are those scribling Fops, who think to eternize their memory by setting up for

Authors: Among which, though they are All some way indebted to me, yet are those more especi∣ally so, who spoil paper in blotting it with meer trifles, and impertinences. For as to those gra∣ver Drudgers to the Press, that write learnedly beyond the reach of an ordinary Reader, who durst submit their labours to the review of the most severe Critick, These are not so liable to be envied for their honour, as to be pitied for their sweat, and slavery; they make additions, alterations, blot out, write anew, amend, inter∣line, turn it upside down, and yet can never please their fickle judgment, but that they shall dislike the next hour what they penn'd the former; and all this to purchase the aiery commendations of a few understanding Readers, which at most is but a poor reward for all their fastings, watchings, confinements, and brain-breaking tortures of In∣vention: add to this the impairing of their health, the weakning of their constitution, their contracting sore eyes, or perhaps turning stark blind; their poverty, their envy, their debarment from all pleasures, their hastning on old age, their untimely death, and what other inconveni∣ences of a like, or worse nature can be thought upon: And yet the recompence for all this severe penance is at best no more, than a mouthful or two of frothy Praise. These, as they are more laborious, so are they less happy than those o∣ther Hackney-scriblers, which I first mentioned, who never stand much to consider, but write what comes next at a venture; knowing, that the more silly their composures are, the more they will be

bought up by the greater number of Readers, who are Fools, and Blockheads: And if they hap to be condemn'd by some few judicious per∣sons, it is an easie matter by clamour to drown their censure, and to silence them by urging the more numerous commendations of others. They are yet the wisest, who transcribe whole discourses from others, and then reprint them as their own; by doing so they make a cheap, and easie seisure to themselves of that reputation, which cost the first Author so much time, and trouble to procure: If they are at any time prick'd a little in consci∣ence, for fear of discovery, they feed themselves however with this hope, that if they be at last found Plagiaries, yet at least for some time they shall have the credit of passing for the genuine Authors. It is pleasant to see how all these se∣veral Writers are puff'd up with the least blast of applause, especially if they come to the honour of being pointed at, as they walk along the streets, when their several Pieces are laid open upon eve∣ry Book seller's Stall, when their Names are em∣boss'd in a different character upon the Title-page, sometime only with the two first Letters, and sometime with fictitious cramp terms, which few shall understand the meaning of; and of those that do, All shall not agree in their verdict of the performance; some censuring, others approv∣ing it, mens judgments being as different as their palates, That being toothsome to one, which is unsavoury, and nauseous to another: though it is a sneaking piece of cowardice for Authors to put feigned names to their works, as if like Ba∣stards

of their Brain they were afraid to own them. Thus one stiles himself Telemachus, another Ste∣lenus, a third Polycrates, another Thrasymachus, and so on: by the same liberty we may ransack the whole Alphabet, and jumble together any Letters that come next to hand. It is farther very pleasant, when these Coxcombs employ their pens in writing congratulatory Epistles, Poems, and Panegyricks upon each other, where∣in one shall be complemented with the Title of Alcaeus, another shall be character'd for the incomparable Callimachus, This shall be com∣mended for a compleater Oratour than Tully himself; a fourth shall be told by his fellow-fool, that the Divine Plato comes short of him for a Philosophick soul. Sometime again they take up the cudgels, and challenge out an Antagonist, and so get a name by a combat at dispute, and con∣troversy, while the unwary Readers draw sides according to their different judgments; the lon∣ger the quarrel holds, the more irreconcileable it grows; and when both parties are weary, they each pretend themselves the Conquerours, and both lay claime to the credit of coming off with victory. These Fooleries make sport for Wise men, as be∣ing highly absurd, ridiculous, and extravagant. True, but yet these Paper-combatants by my as∣sistance are so flush'd with a conceit of their own greatness, that they prefer the solving of a Syllo∣gism before the sacking of Carthage; and upon the defeat of a poor objection carry themselves more triumphant, than the most victorious Scipio.

Nay, even the Learned, and more Iudicious,

that have wit enough to laugh at the others Fol∣ly, are very much beholden to my goodness, which (except ingratitude have drowned their ingenuity) they must be ready upon all occasi∣ons to confess. Among these I suppose the Law∣yers will shuffle in for precedence, and they of all men have the greatest conceit of their own abili∣ties. They'l argue as confidently, as if they spoke Gospel instead of Law: They'l cite you six hun∣dred several Presidents, though not one of them come near to the case in hand: They'l muster up the authority of Iudgments, Deeds, Glosses, and Reports, and tumble over so many musty Records, that they make their employ, though in it self easie, the greatest slavery imaginable; always accounting that the best Plea, which they have took most pains for.

To these, as bearing great resemblance to them, may be added Logicians, and Sophisters, fellows that talk as much by rote as a Parrot; who shall run down a whole Gossiping of Old women, nay silence the very noise of a Belfry with louder clap∣pers, than those in the Steeple: And if their un∣appeasable clamourousness were their only fault, it would admit of some excuse; but they are at the same time so fierce, and quarrelsome, that they'l wrangle bloodily for the least trifle, and be so over-intent, and eager, that they many times lose their game in the chace, and fright away that truth they are hunting for. Yet Self-conceit makes these nimble Disputants such doughty Champions, that armed with three or four close∣link'd Syllogisms, they shall enter the lists with

the greatest Masters of Reason, and not question the foiling of them in an irresistible Baffle: nay, their obstinacy makes them so confident of their being in the right, that all the arguments in the world shall never convince them to the con∣trary.

Next to These come the Philosophers in their long Beards, and short Cloaks, who esteem them∣selves the only favourites of Wisdom, and look upon the rest of Mankind as the dirt, and rubbish of the Creation: yet These mens happiness is on∣ly a frantick crasiness of Brain; they build Ca∣stles in the Air, and infinite worlds in a vacuum: They'l give you to a hairs breadth the dimensions of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, as easily as they would do that of a Flaggon, or Pipkin: They'l give a punctual account of the rise of Thunder, of the Origin of Winds, of the nature of Eclipses, and of all the other abstrusest difficulties in Phy∣sicks, without the least demur, or haesitation, as if they had been admitted into the Cabinet Coun∣cil of Nature, or had been Eye witnesses to all the accurate methods of Creation: Though, alass, Nature does but laugh at all their puny conje∣ctures; for they never yet made one considerable discovery, as appears, in that they are unani∣mously agreed in no one point of the smallest mo∣ment; nothing so plain, or evident, but what by some or other is opposed, and contradicted, But though they are ignorant of the artificial contex∣ture of the least Insect, they vaunt however, and brag, that they know all things, when indeed they are unable to construe the mechanisme of

their own Body: nay, when they are so pur∣blind, as not to be able to see a stones-cast before them, yet they shall be as sharp-sighted as possible in spying out Ideas, Universals, separate Forms, first Matters, Quiddities, Formalities, and a hundred such like niceties, so diminutively small, that were not their eyes extreamly magnifying, all the art of Opticks could never make them discernible. But they then most despise the low groveling Vul∣gar, when they bring out their Parallels, Tri∣angles, Circles, and other Mathematical figures, drawn up in Battalia like so many Spells, and Charms of Conjuration in Muster, with letters to refer to the explication of the several Pro∣blems; hereby raising Divels as it were, only to have the credit of laying them, and amusing the ordinary Spectators into wonder, because they have not wit enough to understand the juggle. Of These, some undertake to profess themselves. Iu∣dicial Astrologers, pretending to keep correspon∣dence with the Stars, and so from their informa∣tion can resolve any Query; and though it is all but a Presumptuous Imposture, yet some to be sure will be so great fools as to believe them.

The Divines present themselves next; but it may perhaps be most safe to pass them by, and not at all to touch upon so harsh a string, as this subject would afford. Beside, the Undertaking may be very hazardous; for they are a sort of men generally very hot, and passionate; and should I provoke them, I doubt would set upon me with a full cry, and force me with shame to recant: which if I stubbornly refuse to do, they'l

presently brand me for an Heretick, and thunder out an Excommunication, which is their Spiritual wea∣pon, to wound such as lift up a hand against them. It is true, no men own a less dependance on me, yet have they reason to confess themselves indeb∣ted for no small obligations. For it is by one of my Properties, Self-love, that they fancy them∣selves, with their elder Brother Paul, caught up into the third Heaven, from whence like Shep∣herds indeed they look down upon their Flock, the Laity grazing, as it were, in the Vales of the world below. They sence themselves in with so many surrounders of Magisterial Definitions, Con∣clusions, Corollaries, Propositions explicite, and implicite, that there is no falling in with them; or if they do chance to be urged to a seeming Non-plus, yet they find out so many evasions, that all the art of Man can never bind them so fast, but that an easie distinction shall give them a starting hole, to escape the scandal of being baffled. They'l cut asunder the toughest argu∣ment with as much ease, as Alexander did the Gor∣dian knot: they'l thunder out so many rattling Terms as shall fright an adversary into convicti∣on. They are exquisitely dexterous in unfolding the most intricate Mysteries: They'l tell you to a tittle all the successive proceedings of Omnipo∣tence in the Creation of the Universe; they'l ex∣plain the precise manner of Original sin being derived from our first Parents; they'l satisfie you in what manner, by what degrees, and in how long a time our Saviour was conceived in the Vir∣gins womb, and demonstrate in the consecrated

Wafer how Accidents may subsist without a Sub∣ject. Nay, these are accounted trivial, easie que∣stions; they have yet far greater difficulties be∣hind, which notwithstanding they solve with as much expedition as the former: as namely, whe∣ther Supernatural generation requires any instant of time for its acting? Whether Christ, as a Son, bears a double specifically distinct Relation to God the Father, and his Virgin Mother? Whether This Proposition is possible to be true; The first per∣son of the Trinity hated the second? Whether God, who took our nature upon him in the form of a Man, could as well have become a Woman, a Devil, a Beast, an Herb, or a Stone; and were it so possible, that the Godhead had appeared in the shape of an inanimate substance, how he should then have preached his Gospel, or how have been nailed to the Cross? Whether, if St. Peter had celebrated the Eucharist at the same time our Sa∣viour was hanging on the Cross, the consecrated bread would have been transubstantiated into the same body that remained on the Tree? Whether in Christ's Corporal Presence in the Sacramental Wafer, his Humanity be not abstracted from his Godhead? Whether after the Resurrection we shall carnally eat, and drink, as we do in this life? There are a thousand other more sublimated, and refined nicities of Notions, Relations, Quantities, Formalities, Quiddities, Haecceities, and such like Ab∣strusities, as one would think no one could pry into, except he had, not only such Cats-eyes as to see best in the dark, but even such a piercing faculty, as to see through an Inch-board, and spy out

what really never had any being. Add to these some of their Tenets, and Opinions, which are so absurd, and extravagant, that the wildest fan∣cies of the Stoicks, which they so much disdain, and decry as Paradoxes, seem in comparison just, and rational; as their maintaining, That it is a less aggravating fault to kill a hundred men, than for a poor Cobler to set a stich on the Sabbath day; or, That it is more justifiable to do the greatest injury imaginable to others, than to tell the least Lie our selves. And these Subtleties are Alchymized to a more refined Sublimate, by the abstracting brains of their several Schoolmen; the Realists, the Nominalists, the Thomists, the Albertists, the Occamists, the Scotists; these are not all, but the rehearsal of a few only, as a Specimen of their divi∣ded Sects: In each of which there is so much of deep learning, so much of unfathomable difficul∣ty, that I believe the Apostles themselves would stand in need of a new illuminating spirit, if they were to engage in any controversie with these new Divines. St. Paul no question had a full measure of faith, yet when he lays down Faith to be the substance of things not seen, these men carp at it for an imperfect Definition, and would undertake to teach the Apostles better Logick. Thus the same holy Author wanted for nothing of the Grace of Charity, yet (say they) he describes, and defines it but very unaccurately, when he treats of it in the thirteeenth Chapter of his first Epistle to the Corinthians. The primitive Disciples were very frequent in administring the Holy Sacrament, break∣ing bread from house to house; yet should they be

asked of the Terminus à quo, and the Terminus ad quem, the nature of Transubstantiation, the manner how one Body can be in several places at the same time; the difference betwixt the several Attri∣butes of Christ in Heaven, on the Cross, and in the consecrated Bread; what time is required for the Transubstantiating the Bread into Flesh; how it can be done by a short sentence pronounced by the Priest, which sentence is a Species of discrete Quantity, that has no permanent punctum? Were they asked (I say) these, and several other confu∣sed Queries, I don't believe they could answer so readily, as our mincing Schoolmen now adays take a pride to do. They were well acquainted with the Virgin Mary, yet none of them undertook to prove, that she was preserved immaculate from Original sin, as some of our Divines very hotly contend for. St.Peter had the Keys given to him, and that by our Saviour himself, who had never entrusted him, except he had known him capable of their manage, and custody; and yet it is much to be questioned, whether Peter was sensible of that subtlety broach'd by Scotus, That he may have the Key of Knowledge effectually for others, who has no Knowledge actually in himself. Again, They baptized all Nations, and yet never taught what was the Formal, Material, Efficient, and Fi∣nal Cause of Baptisme, and certainly never dream't of distinguishing between a Delible, and an Inde∣lible Character in this Sacrament. They wor∣shipped in the Spirit, following their Master's in∣junction, God is a Spirit, and they which worship him, must worship him in Spirit, and in Truth; yet it

don't appear, that it was ever reveal'd to them, How Divine Adoration should be paid at the same time to our blessed Saviour in Heaven, and to his Picture here below on a wall, drawn with two fin∣gers held out, a bald crown, and a circle round his head. To reconcile these intricacies to an appear∣ance of Reason, requires threescore years expe∣rience in Metaphysicks.

Farther, the Apostles often mention Grace, yet ne∣ver distinguish betwixt gratia gratis data, and gra∣tia gratificans. They earnestly exhort us likewise to good works, yet never explain the difference between Opus operans, and Opus operatum. They very frequently press and invite us to seek after Charity, without dividing it into Infused, and Ac∣quired, or determining whether it be a Substance, or an Accident, a Created, or an Vncreated being. They detested Sin themselves, and warned others from the commission of it; and yet I'me sure, they could never have defined so dogmatically, as the Scotists have since done. St. Paul, who in others judgment is no less the chief of the Apo∣stles, than he was in his own, the chief of Sinners, who being bred at the feet of Gamaliel was certain∣ly more eminently a Schollar, than any of the rest; yet he often exclaims against vain Philosophy, warns us from doting about questions, and strifes of words, and charges us to avoid profane, and vain Bablings, and oppositions of Science falsly so called; which he would not have done, if he had thought it worth his while to have become acquainted with them, which he might soon have been, the Disputes of that Age being but small, and more intelligi∣ble

Sophisms, in reference to the vastly greater intricacies they are now improved to. But yet however our Scholastick Divines are so modest, that if they meet with any passage in St Paul, or any other Pen-man of Holy writ, which is not so well modell'd, or critically disposed of as they could wish, they will not roughly condemn it, but bend it rather to a favourable interpreta∣tion, out of reverence to Antiquity, and respect to the Holy Scriptures; though indeed it were unreasonable to expect any thing of this nature from the Apostles, whose Lord and Master had given unto them to know the mysteries of God, but not those of Philosophy. If the same Divines meet with any thing of like nature unpalatable in St. Chrysostom, St. Basil, St. Hierom, or others of the Fathers, they will not stick to appeal from their Authority, and very fairly resolve, that They lay under a mistake: yet These ancient. Fathers were they, who confuted both th e Jews, and Heathens, though they both obstinately ad∣hered to their respective prejudices; they con∣futed them (I say,) yet by their Lives, and Mi∣racles, rather than by Words, and Syllogisms; and the persons they thus proselyted were right down honest, well-meaning people, such as understood plain sense, better than an artificial pomp of Rea∣soning: Whereas if our Divines should now set about the gaining Converts from Paganism by their Metaphysical subtleties, they would find, that most of the persons they applied themselves to, were either so ignorant, as not at all to apprehend them, or so impudent, as to scoff, and deride them,

or finally, so well skill'd at the same weapons, that they would be able to keep their Pass, and sence off all assault of Conviction: and this last way, the victory would be altogether as hopeless, as if two persons were engaged of so equal strength, that it were impossible any one should over-power the other.

If my judgment might be taken, I would advise Christians, in their next expedition to a Holy war, instead of those many unsuccessful Legions, which they have hitherto sent to encounter the Turks, and Saracens, that they would furnish out their cla∣morous Scotists, their obstinate Occamists, their invincible Albertists, and all their forces of tough, crabbed, and profound Disputants: the Engage∣ment, I fancy, would be mighty pleasant, and the victory we may imagine on our side, not to be que∣stioned. For which of the Enemies would not vail their Turbants at so solemn an appearance? Which of the fiercest Ianizaries would not throw away his Cimiter, and all the Half-Moons be eclyp∣sed by the interposition of so glorious an Ar∣my?

I suppose you mistrust I speak all this by way of Jeer, and Irony: And well I may, since among Divines themselves there are some so ingenuous, as to despise these captious and frivolous imper∣tinencies; they look upon it as a kind of profane sacriledge, and a little less than blasphemous im∣piety, to determine of such niceties in Religion, as ought rather to be the subject of an humble, and uncontradicting Faith, than of a scrupulous, and inquisitive Reason; they abhor a defiling the

mysteries of Christianity with an intermixture of Heathenish Philosophy, and judge it very impro∣per to reduce Divinity to an obscure speculative Science, whose end is such a happiness, as can be gained only by the means of Practice. But alas those Notional Divines, however condemned by the soberer judgment of others, are yet mighti∣ly pleased with themselves, and are so labori∣ously intent upon prosecuting their crabbed Stu∣dies, that they cannot afford so much time as to read a single Chapter in any one Book of the whole Bible. And while they thus trifle away their mispent hours in trash, and babble, they think that they support the Catholick Church with the props and pillars of Propositions, and Syllo∣gisms, no less effectually, than Atlas is seigned by the Poets to sustain on his shoulders the burden of a tottering world. Their Priviledges too, and Authority are very considerable: They can deal with any Text of Scripture as with a Nose of wax, knead it into what shape best suits their in∣terest; and whatever Conclusions they have dog∣matically resolved upon, they would have them as irrepealably ratified, as Solon's Laws, and in as great force as the very Decrees of the Papal Chair. If any be so bold as to remonstrate to their Decisions, they'l bring him on his knees to a Recantation of his Impudence. They shall pro∣nounce as irrevocably as an Oracle; This Propo∣sition is Scandalous, That Irreverent; This has a smack of Heresy, and That is Bald, and Impro∣per: So that it is not the being Baptised into the Church, the Believing of the Scriptures, the giv∣ing

credit to St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Hierom, St. Augustin, nay, or St. Thomas Aquinas himself, that shall make a man a Christian, except he have the joynt suffrage of these Novices in learning, who have blessed the world no doubt with a great many discoveries; which had never come to light, if they had not struck the Fire of Subtlety out of the Flint of Obscurity. These Fooleries sure must be a happy employ.

Farther, they make as many partitions, and divisions in Hell and Purgatory and describe as many different sorts and degrees of punishment, as if they were very well acquainted with the soil, and situation of those Infernal Regions. And, to prepare a Seat for the Blessed above, they invent new Orbs, and a stately Empyraen Heaven, so wide, and spatious, as if they had purposely contriv d it, that the Glorified Saints might have room enough to walk, to feast, or to take any recrea∣tion.

With these, and a thousand more such like toies their heads are more stuff'd, and swell'd, than Iove, when he went big of Pallas in his brain, and was forced to use the Midwivery of Vulcan's Axe, to ease him of his teeming burden. Do not wonder therefore, that at publick Disputa∣tions they bind their heads with so many Caps one over another; for This is to prevent the loss of their brains, which would otherwise break out from their uneasie confinement. It affords like∣wise a pleasant scene of laughter, to listen to these Divines in their hotly managed Disputations; to see how proud they are of talking such hard

gibbrish, and stammering out such blundring di∣stinctions, as the Auditors perhaps may some∣times gape at, but selsdom apprehend: And they take such a liberty in their speaking of Latine, that they scorn to stick at the exactness of Syn∣tax, or Concord, pretending it is below the ma∣jesty of a Divine to talk like a Paedagogue, and be tied to the slavish observance of the Rules of Grammer. Finally, they take a vast pride, among other citations, to alledge the authority of their respective Master, which word they bear as pro∣found a respect to, as the Iews did to their in∣effable Tetragrammaton, and therefore they'l be sure never to write it any otherwise, than in great Letters, MAGISTER NOSTER; and if any happen to invert the order of the words, and say, Noster Magister, instead of Magister No∣ster, they'l presently exclaim against him, as a pestilent Heretick, and underminer of the Catho∣lick Faith.

The next to these are another sort of brain∣sick Fools, who stile themselves Monks, and of Reli∣gious Orders, though they assume both Titles very unjustly: For as to the last, they have very little of Religion in them; and as to the former, the E∣tymology of the word, Monk, implies a solitari∣ness, or being alone, whereas they are so thick abroad, that we cannot pass any street, or ally, without meeting them. Now I cannot imagine, what one degree of men would be more hope∣lesly wretched, if I did not stand their friend, and buoy them up in that lake of misery, which by the engagements of a Holy Vow they have vo∣luntarily

immerg'd themselves in. But when these sort of men are so unwelcome to others, as that the very sight of them is thought ominous; I yet make them highly in love with themselves, and fond admirers of their own happiness. The first step whereunto, they esteem a profound Ig∣norance, thinking Carnal knowledge a great ene∣my to their Spiritual welfare, and seem confident of becoming greater Proficients in Divine my∣steries, the less they are poysoned with any Hu∣mane Learning. They imagine, that they bear a sweet c••nsert with the Heavenly Quire, when they tone out their daily Tally of Psalms, which they rehearse only by rote, without permitting their understanding or affections to go along with their voice. Among these, some make a good profi∣table trade of Beggery, going about from house to house, not like the Apostles, to Break, but to Beg their Bread; nay, thrust into all publick houses, come aboard the Passage-boats, get into the travailing Waggons, and omit no opportuni∣ty of time, or place for the craving peoples cha∣rity; doing a great deal of injury to common high-way beggars, by interloping in their traffick of Alms. And when they are thus voluntarily poor, destitute, not provided with two coats, nor with any money in their purse, they have the impudence to pretend, that they imitate the first Disciples, whom their Master expresly sent out in such an equipage. It is pretty to observe, how they regulate all their actions, as it were by weight, and measure, to so exact a proportion, as if the whole loss of their religion depended upon the

omission of the least Punctilio. Thus they must be very critical in the precise number of Knots to the tying on of their sandals; what distinct co∣lours their respective habits and what stuff made of; how broad, and long their girdles; how big, and in what fashion their hoods; whether their bald crowns be to a hairs breadth of the right cut; how many hours they must sleep, at what minute rise to Prayers, &c. And these several customs are altered according to the humours of different persons, and places. While they are sworn to the superstitious observance of these trifles, they do not only despise all others, but are very inclinable to fall out among themselves; for though they make profession of an Apostolick charity, yet they'l pick a quarrel, and be implacably passionate for such poor provocations, as the girting on a coat the wrong way, for the wearing of cloaths a little too darkish coloured, or any such nicety, not worth the speaking of. Some are so obstinately superstitious, that they'l wear their upper gar∣ment of some course dogs-hair stuff, and that next their skin as soft as silk: But others on tbe contrary will have linnen frocks outermost, and their shirts of wool, or hair. Some again will not touch a piece of money, though they make no scruple of the sin of drunkenness, and the lust of the flesh. All their several Orders are mindful of nothing more than of their being distinguisht each from other by their different customs, and habits. They seem indeed not so careful of be∣coming like Christ, and of being known to be his Disciples, as the being unlike to one another,

and distinguishable for followers of their several Founders. A great part of their Religion consists in their Title: Some will be call'd Cordeliers, and these subdivided into Capuchines, Minors, Minims, and Mendicants: Some again are stiled Benedi∣ctines, others of the Order of St. Bernard, others of that of St. Bridget; some are Augustin Monks, some Willielmites, and other Iacobists, as if the common name of Christian were too mean, and vulgar. Most of them place their greatest stress for salvation on a strict conformity to their fop∣pish ceremonies, and a belief of their Legendary Traditions; wherein they fancy to have acquit∣ted themselves with so much of Supererogation, that one Heaven can never be a condign reward for their meritorious life; little thinking, that the Judge of all the Earth, at the last day, shall put them off with a who hath required These things at your hands? and call them to an account only for the Stewardship of his Legacy, which was the Precept of Love, and Charity. It will be pretty to hear their several Pleas before the great Tri∣bunal: One will brag how he mortified his carnal appetite, by feeding only upon Fish: Another will urge, that he spent most of his time on earth in the Divine exercise of singing Psalms: A third will tell, how many days he fasted and what se∣vere Penance he imposed on himself, for the bring∣ing his body into subjection: Another shall pro∣duce in his own behalf as many Ceremonies, as would load a Fleet of Merchant-men: A fifth shall plead, that in threescore years he never so much as toucht a piece of Money, except he fin∣ger'd

it through a thick pair of Gloves: A sixth, to testifie his former Humility, shall bring along with him his Sacred Hood, so old, and nasty, that any Seaman had rather stand bare-headed on the Deck, than put it on, to defend his ears from the sharpest storms: The next that comes to answer for himself, shall plead, that for fifty years toge∣ther he had lived like a Sponge upon the same place, and was content never to change his homely Habitation: Another shall whisper softly, and tell the Judge, he has lost his voice by a conti∣nual singing of holy Hymns, and Anthems: The next shall confess, how he fell into a Lethargy by a strict, reserved, and sedentary life: And the last shall intimate, that he has forgot to speak, by having always kept silence, in obedience to the In∣junction, of taking heed, least he should have offen∣ded with his Tongue. But amidst all their fine ex∣cuses our Saviour shall interrupt them with this answer, Wo unto you Scribes, and Pharisees, Hypo∣crites, verily I know you not; I left you but one Precept of loving one another, which I do not hear any one plead he has faithfully discharged: I told you plainly in my Gospel, without any Pa∣rable, that my Father's Kingdom was prepared, not for such as should lay claim to it by Austerities, Prayers, or Fastings, but for those who should render themselves worthy of it, by the exercise of Faith, and the offices of Charity: I cannot own such as depend on their own Merits, without a reliance on my Mercy: As many of you therefore, as trust to the broken reeds of your own Deserts, may e'en go search out a new Heaven, for you shall

never enter into That, which from the founda∣tions of the world was prepared only for such as are true of heart. When these Monks and Friers shall meet with such a shameful repulse, and see that Ploughmen, and Mechanicks are admitted into that Kingdom, from which They themselves are shut out; how sneakingly will they look, and how pittifully slink away? Yet till this last Trial they had more comfort of a future happiness, because more hopes of it than any other men. And These persons are not only great in their own eyes, but highly esteem'd, and respected by others, especially Those of the Order of Mendicants, whom none dare to offer any affront to, because as Confessors they are intrusted with all the secrets of particular Intrigues, which they are bound by Oath not to discover; yet many times, when they are almost drunk, they cannot keep their tongue so far within their head, as not to be bab∣bling out some hints, and shewing themselves so full, that they are in pain to be delivered. If any person give them the least provocation, they'l be sure to be reveng'd of him, aud in their next publick harangue give him such shrewd wipes, and reflexions, that the whole congregation must needs take notice at whom they are levell'd; nor will they ever desist from this way of declaiming, till their mouth be stopt with a Bribe to hold their tongue. All their Preaching is meer Stage∣playing, and their Delivery the very transports of Ridicule, and Drollery. Good Lord! How mi∣mical are their Gestures? What heights, and falls in their Voice? What toning, what bawling,

what singing, what squeaking, what grimaces, making of mouths, Apes faces, and distorting of their countenance? And this Art of Oratory, as a choice mystery, they convey down by tra∣dition to one another. The manner of it I may adventure thus farther to enlarge upon. First, in a kind of mockery they implore the Divine assi∣stance, which they borrowed from the solemn custom of the Poets: Then, if their Text, suppose, be of Charity, they shall take their Exordium as far off, as from a description of the River Nile in Egypt; Or, if they are to discourse of the myste∣ry of the Cross, they shall begin with a story of Bel, and the Dragon; Or, perchance if their sub∣ject be of Fasting, for an entrance to their Ser∣mon, they shall pass through the twelve Signs of the Zodiack; Or, lastly, if they are to preach of Faith, they shall address themselves in a long Ma∣thematical account of the Quadrature of the Cir∣cle. I my selfe once heard a great Fool, (a great Scholar I would have said) undertaking in a la∣borious discourse to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity; in the unfolding whereof, that he might shew his wit, and reading, and together sa∣tisfie itching Ears, he proceeded in a new method, as by insisting on the Letters, Syllables, and Pro∣position, on the Concord of Noun, and Verb, and that of Noun Substantive, and Noun Adje∣ctive; the Auditors all wondred, and some mum∣bled to themselves that Hemistich of Horace,

—Quorsum haec tam putrida tendunt? Why all this needless Trash?

But at last he brought it thus far, That he could demonstrate the whole Trinity to be represented by these first rudiments of Grammar, as clearly, and plainly, as it was possible for a Mathemati∣cian to draw a Triangle in the Sand: And for the making of this grand discovery, this subtle Di∣vine had plodded so hard for eight months to∣gether, that he studied himself as blind as a bee∣tle, the intenseness of the Eye of his understan∣ding over-shadowing, and extinguishing that of his body; and yet he did not at all repent him of his blindness, but thinks the loss of his sight an ea∣sie purchase for the gain of glory, and credit.

I heard at another time a grave Divine, of four∣score years of age at least, so sowr, and hard-fa∣voured, that one would be apt to mistrust that it was Scotus Redivivus; he taking upon him to treat of the mysterious Name, Iesus, did very subtilely pretend, that in the very letters was con∣tained whatever could be said of it: for, first, its being declined only with three Cases, did expres∣ly point out the Trinity of Persons; then, that the Nominative case ended in S, the Accusative in M, and the Ablative in V, did imply some un∣speakable mystery, namely, that in words of those Initial Letters, Christ was the Summus, or Be∣ginning, the Medius, or Middle, and the Vlti∣mus, or End of All things. There was yet a more abstruse riddle to be explained, which was by di∣viding the word IESVS into two parts, and se∣parating the S in the middle from the two extreme syllables, making it a kind of Pentameter, the word consisting of five letters: and this inter∣medial

S being in the Hebrew Alphabet call'd Sin, which in the English language signifies what the Latines term Peccatum, was urged to imply, that the Holy Iesus should purifie us from all sin, and wickedness. Thus did the Pulpiteer cant, while all the Congregation, especially the Brother∣hood of Divines, were so surprised at this odd way of Preaching, that Wonder served them, as Grief did Niobe, almost turned them into Stones; I among the rest (as Horace describes Priapus, viewing the Enchantments of the two Sorce∣resses, Canidia, aud Sagane,) could no longer con∣tain, but let flie a cracking report of the opera∣tion it had upon me. These impertinent Intro∣ductions are not without reason condemn'd; for of old, whenever Demosthenes among the Greeks, or Tully among the Latines, began their Orations with so great a digression from the matter in hand, it was alway look'd upon as improper, and unelegant: And indeed, were such a long-fetcht Exordium any token of a good invention, Shep∣herds, aad Ploughmen might lay claim to the ti∣tle of men of greatest parts, since upon any ar∣gument it is easiest for them to talk what is least to the purpose. These Preachers think their Pre∣amble (as we may well term it) to be the most fa∣shionable, when it is farthest from the subject they propose to treat of, while each Auditor sits, and wonders what they drive at, and many times mut∣ter out the complaint of Virgil,

—Quò nunc se proripit ille? Whither does all this Jargon tend?

In the third place, when they come to the Division of their Text, they shall give only a very short touch at the interpretation of the words, when the fuller explication of their sense ought to have been their only Province. Fourthly, after they are a little entred, they shall start some The∣ological Queries, far enough off from the matter in hand, and bandy it about Pro and Con, till they loose it in the heat of scuffle. And here they shall cite their Doctors Invincible, Subtle, Seraphick, Chembick, Holy, Irrefragable, and such like great Names, to confirm their several Assertions. Then out they bring their Syllogisms, their Majors, their Minors, Conclusions, Corollaries, Suppositions, and Distinctions, that will sooner terrifie the Con∣gregation into an Amazement, than perswade them into a Conviction, Now comes the fifth Act, in which they must exert their utmost skill to come off with applause. Here therefore they fall a telling some sad lamentable story out of their Le∣gend, or some other fabulous History; and this they descant upon Allegorically, Tropologically, and Analogically: and so they draw to a Conclu∣sion of their Discourse, which is a more brain-sick Chimaera, than ever Horace could describe in his De Arte Poetica, when he began,

Humano Capiti, &c.

Their Praying is altogether as ridiculous, as their Preaching; for imagining, that in their addres∣ses to Heaven they should set out in a low, and tremulous voice, as a token of dread, and reve∣rence;

they begin therefore with such a soft whispering, as if they were afraid any one should over-hear what they said, but when they are gone a little way, they clear up their pipes by degrees, and at last bawl out so loud, as if with Baal's Priests they were resolved to awake a sleeping God, And then again being told by Rhetoricians, that Heights, and Falls, and a different Cadency in Pronuntiation is a great advantage to the setting off any thing that is spoke, they'l sometimes as it were mutter their words inwardly, and then of a suddain hollow them out, and be sure at last in such a flat saltring tone, as if their spirits were spent, and they had run themselves out of breath. Lastly, they have read, that most Systems of Rhetorick treat of the Art of exciting Laughter: therefore for the effecting of This, they'l sprinkle some Jests, and Puns, that must pass for ingenui∣ty, though they are only the froth of Folly, and Affectedness. Sometime they'l nibble at the wit of being Satyrical, though their utmost spleen is so toothless, that they suck rather than bite, tickle rather than scratch, or wound: Nor do they ever flatter more, than at such times as they pre∣tend to speak with greatest freedom.

Finally, all their Actions are so buffoonish, and mimical, that any would judge they had learned all their tricks of Mountebanks, and Stage play∣ers, who in Action it is true may perhaps out∣doe them, but in Oratory there is so little odds be∣tween both, that it is hard to determine which seems of longest standing in the Schools of Elo∣quence. Yet These Preachers, however ridicu∣lous,

meet with such hearers, who admire them as much as the people of Athens did Demosthenes, or the Citizens of Rome could do Cicero: Among which Admirers are chiefly Shop-keepers, and Wo∣men, whose approbation and good opinion They only court; because the first, if they are humou∣red, give them some snacks out of unjust gain; and the last come, and ease their grief to them upon all pinching occasions, especially when their hus∣bands are any ways cross, or unkind.

Thus much, I suppose, may suffice to make you sensible, how much these Cell-Hermites, and Re∣cluses, are indebted to my bounty; who, when they tyrannize over the consciences of the deluded Laity with fopperies, juggles, and impostures, yet think themselves as eminently pious, as St. Paul, St. Anthony, or any other of the Saints: But these Stage-Divines, not less ungrateful disowners of their obligations to Folly, than they are impu∣dent pretenders to the profession of piety, I wil∣lingly take my leave of, and passe now to Kings, Princes, and Courtiers, who paying me a devout acknowledgment, may justly challenge back the respect of being mentioned, and taken notice of by me. And first, had they wisdom enough to make a true judgment of things, they would find their own condition to be more despicable, and slavish, than that of the most menial Subjects. For certainly none can esteem Perjury, or Parricide a cheap purchase for a Crown, if he does but se∣riously reflect on that weight of cares a Princely Diadem is loaded with. He that sits at the Helm of Government acts in a publick capacity, and so

must sacrifice all private interest to the attainment of the common good: He must himself be confor∣mable to those Laws his Prerogative enacts, or else he can expect no obedience paid them from others; He must have a strict eye over all his in∣feriour Magistrates, and Officers, or otherwise it is to be doubted they will but carelesly dis∣charge their respective Duties. Every King, with∣in his own Territories, is placed for a shining Example, as it were in the Firmament of his wide∣spread Dominions, to prove either a glorious Star of benign influence, if his behaviour be re∣markably just, and innocent, or else to impend as a threatning Comet, if his blazing power be pesti∣lent, and hurtful. Subjects move in a darker Sphere, and so their wandrings and failings are less discernible; whereas Princes, being fixt in a more exalted Orb, and encompassed with a brighter dazling lustre, their spots are more apparently visible, and their Eclipses, or other defects, influ∣ential on all that is inferiour to them. Kings are baited with so many temptations, and opportu∣nities to vice, and immorality, such as are High Feeding, Liberty, Flattery, Luxury, and the like, that they must stand perpetually on their guard, to fence off those assaults, that are always ready to be made upon them. In fine, abating from Treachery, Hatred, Dangers, Fear, and a thou∣sand other mischiefs impending on crowned heads, however uncontrolable they are on this side Hea∣ven, yet after their Reign here, they must appear before a supremer Iudge, and there be call'd to an exact account for the discharge of that great

Stewardship which was committed to their trust. If Princes did but seriously consider (and consider they would, if they were but wise) these many hardships of a Royal life, they would be so per∣plexed in the result of their thoughts hereupon, as scarce to eat, or sleep in quiet. But now by my assistance they leave all these cares to the Gods, and mind only their own ease, and pleasure, and therefore will admit none to their attendance, but who will divert them with sport, and mirth, left they should otherwise be seised, and damp'd with the surprisal of sober thoughts: They think they have sufficiently acquitted themselves in the duty of governing, if they do but ride con∣stantly a hunting, breed up good Race-horses, sell Places, and Offices to those of the Courtiers that will give most for them, and find out new ways for invading of their peoples Property, and hook∣ing in a larger Revenue to their own Exchequer; for the procurement whereof they'l alway have some pretended claim, and title; that though it be manifest extortion, yet it may bear the shew of Law, and Justice: And then they dawb over their oppression with a submissive, flattering car∣riage, that they may so far insinuate into the af∣fections of the vulgar, as they may not tumult, nor rebel, but patiently crouch to burdens, and exactions. Let us feign now a Person ignorant of the Laws, and Constitutions of that Realm he lives in, an enemy to the publick good, studious only of his own private interest, addicted wholly to pleasures, and delights; a hater of learning, a profest enemy to Liberty, and Truth; careless,

and unmindful of the common concerns, taking all the measures of Justice and Honesty from the false beam of Self-interest, and Advantage. Af∣ter this, hang about his neck a gold-chain, for an intimation, that he ought to have all virtues linked together; then set a Crown of Gold, and Jewels on his head, for a token, that he ought to overtop, and outshine others in all commenda∣ble qualifications. Next, put into his hand a Royal Scepter, for a symbol of Justice, and Inte∣grity. Lastly, cloath him with Purple, for an Hieroglyphick of a tender love, and affection to the Common-wealth. If a Prince should look upon this Pourtraicture, and draw a comparison between That, and Himself, certainly he would be ashamed of his Ensigns of Majesty, and be afraid of being laughed out of them.

Next to Kings themselves may come their Courtiers, who, though they are for the most part a base, servile, cringing, low-spirited sort of Flat∣terers, yet they look big, swell great, and have high thoughts of their honour, and grandeur. Their confidence appears upon all occasions, yet in this one thing they are very modest, in that they are content to adorn their bodies with Gold, Jewels, Purple, and other glorious Ensigns of Virtue, and Wisdom, but leave their minds emp∣ty, and unfraught; and taking the resemblance of Goodness to themselves, turn over the truth and reality of it to others. They think themselves mighty happy, in that they can call the King Master, and be allowed the familiarity of talking with him; that they can volubly rehearse his se∣veral

Titles of August Highness, Supereminent Ex∣cellence, and Most Serene Majesty; that they can boldly usher in any discourse, and that they have the compleat knack of Insinuation, and Flattery; for these are the Arts, that make them truly Gen∣tile, and Noble. If you make a stricter enquiry after their other endowments, you shall find them meer Sots, and Dolts. They'l sleep general∣ly till Noon, and then their mercenary Chaplains shall come to their bed-side, and entertain them perhaps with a short Morning Prayer: As soon as they are drest, they must go to Break-fast, and when That is done, immediately to Dinner: When the Cloath is taken away, then to Cards, Dice, Tables, or some such like diversion. After this, they must have one or two Afternoon Ban∣quets, and so in the Evening to Supper. When they have supp'd, then begins the game of Drinking; the Bottles are marshall'd, the Glasses ranked, and round go the Healths, and Bumpers, till they are carried up to Bed. And this is the constant me∣thod of passing away their hours, days, months, years, and ages. I have many times took great satisfaction by standing in the Court, and seeing how the tawdry Butterflies vie upon one another: The Ladies shall measure the height of their Ho∣nours by the length of their Trails, which must be bore up by a Page behind. The Nobles justle one another to get nearest to the King's elbow, and wear Gold chains of that weight, and bigness, as require no less strength to carry, than they do wealth to purchase.

And now for some reflexions upon Popes, Car∣dinals,

and Bishops, who in pomp an splen∣dour have almost equall'd, if not out-gone secular Princes. Now if any one consider, that their upper Crotchet of white Linnen is to signifie their unspotted purity, and innocence; That their forked Mitres, with both divisions tied together by the same knot, are to denote the joynt knowledge of the Old, and New Testament; That their always wearing Gloves, represents the keeping their hands clean, and undefiled from lucre, and covetous∣ness; That their Pastoral staff implies the care of a Flock committed to their charge; That the Cross carried before them, expresses their victory over all carnal affections: He (I say) that considers this, and much more of like nature, must needs conclude. They are intrusted with a very weigh∣ty, and difficult office But alass, They think it sufficient, if they can but feed themselves, and as to their Flock, either commend them to the care of Christ himself, or commit them to the gui∣dance of some inferiour Vicars, and Curates; not so much as remmembring, what their name of Bishop imports, to wit, Labour, Pains, and Dili∣gence, but by base Simoniacal contracts They are in a profane sense Episcopi, i.e. Overseers of their own Gain, and Income.

So Cardinals in like manner, if they did but consi∣der, that the Church supposes them to succeed in the room of the Apostles; That therefore they must be∣have themselves as their Predecessors, and so not be Lords, but Dispensers of Spiritual gifts, of the dispo∣sal whereof they must one day render a strict ac∣count: or if they would but reflect a little on their

Habit, and thus reason with themselves: what means this white upper garment, but only an unspotted innocence? What signifies my inner Purple, but on∣ly an ardent love, and zeal to God? What im∣ports my outermost Pall, so wide, and long, that it covers the whole Mule when I ride, nay would be big enough to cover a Camel, but only a Dif∣fusive Charity. that should spread it self for a suc∣cour, and protection to all, by Teaching, Ex∣horting, Comforting, Reproving, Admonishing, Composing of differences, Couragiously with∣standing wicked Princes, and Sacrificing for the safety of our stock our Life, and Bloud, as well as our Wealth, and Riches; though indeed Riches ought not to be at all posses'd by such, as boast themselves Successours to the Apostles, who were poor, needy, and destitute: I say, if they did but lay these considerations to heart, they would never be so ambitious of being created to this Ho∣nour; they would willingly resign it when con∣ferr'd upon them, or at least would be as indu∣strious, watchful, and laborious, as the primitive Apostles were.

Now as to the Popes of Rome, who pretend themselves Christ's Vicars, if They would but imitate his Exemplary Life, in the being imploy∣ed in an unintermitted course of Preaching; in the being attended with Poverty, Nakedness, Hun∣ger, and a Contempt of this world; if they did but consider the import of the word Pope, which signifies a Father; or if they did but practise their Sirname of Most Holy, What order, or degrees of men would be in a worse condition? There would

be then no such vigorous making of parties, and buying of Votes in the Conclave upon a vacancy of that See; And those who by Bribery, or other indirect courses, should get themselves elected, would never secure their sitting firm in the Chair by pistol, poyson, force, and violence. How much of their pleasure would be abated, if they were but endowed with one dram of Wisdom? Wisdom did I say? nay, with one grain of that Salt, which our Saviour bid them not loose the savour of: All their Riches, all their Honour, their Jurisdi∣ctions, their Peter's Patrimony, their Offices, their Dispensations, their Licenses, their Indulgences, their long Train, and Attendants, (see in how short a compass I have abbreviated all their mar∣keting of Religion,) in a word, all their Perqui∣sites will be forfeited, and lost; and in their room would succeed Watchings, Fastings, Tears, Pray∣ers, Sermons, hard Studies, Repenting Sighs, and a thousand such like severe Penalties: Nay, what's yet more deplorable, it would then follow, that all their Clerks, Amanuenses, Notaries, Advo∣cates, Proctors, Secretaries, the offices of Grooms, Ostlers, Serving-men, Pimps, (and somewhat else, which for modesty sake I shall not mention,) In short, all those troops of Attendants, which depend on his Holiness, would all loose their se∣veral Employments. This indeed would be hard, but what yet remains, would be more dreadful: The very Head of the Church, the Spiritual Prince, would then be brought from all his splendour to the poor equipage of a Scrip, and Staff. But all this is upon the Supposition on∣ly,

that they understood what circumstances they are placed in, whereas now, by a wholsom neglect of thinking, they live as well as heart can wish: Whatever of toil, and drudgery belongs to their office, That they assign over to St. Peter, or St. Paul, who have time enough to mind it; but if there be any thing of pleasure, and grandeur, That they assume to themselves, as being here unto cal∣led: So that by my influence no sort of people live more to their own ease, and content. They think to satisfie that Master they pretend to serve, our Lord and Saviour, with their great state, and magnificence, with the ceremonies of Instalments, with the titles of Reverence, and Holiness, and with exercising their Episcopal function only in blessing, and cursing: The working of Miracles is old, and out dated: to teach the people, is too laborious; to interpret Scripture, is to invade the Prerogative of the Schoolmen; to pray, is too idle; to shed tears, is cowardish, and unmanly; to fast, is too mean, and sordid; to be easie, and familiar, is beneath the grandeur of him, who without being sued to, and intreated, will scarce give Princes the honour of kissing his Toe; finally, to die for Religion, is too self-denying; and to be crucified as their Lord of Life, is base, and igno∣minious. Their only weapons ought to be those of the Spirit; and of these indeed they are migh∣ty liberal, as of their Interdicts, their Suspensions, their Denuntiations, their Aggravations, their greater, and lesser Excommunications, and their roaring Bulls, that fright whomever they are thundred against; and these most Holy Fathers

never issue them out more frequently, than against those, who at the instigation of the Devil, and not having the fear of God before their eyes, do feloni∣ously, and malitiously attempt to lessen, and impair St. Peter's patrimony: And though that Apostle tells our Saviour in the Gospel, i'th' name of all the other Disciples, We have left all, and follow'd you; yet they challenge, as His inheritance, Fields, Towns, Treasures, and large Dominions; for the defending whereof, inflamed with a holy zeal, they fight with fire, and sword, to the great loss and effusion of Christian bloud; thinking they are Apostolical maintainers of Christ's Spouse, the Church, when they have murdered all such as they call her enemies: though indeed the Church has no Enemies more bloudy, and tyrannical, than such impious Popes, who give Dispensations for the not preaching of Christ; evacuate the main de∣sign, and effect of our Redemption, by their pecu∣nlary bribes, and sales; adulterate the Gospel, by their forc't interpretations, and undermining Traditions; and lastly, by their lusts, and wicked∣ness grieve the Holy Spirit, and make their Savi∣our's wounds to bleed anew. Farther, when the Christian Church has been all along first planted, then confirmed, and since establish't by the bloud of her Martyrs; as if Christ her head would be wanting in the same methods still of protecting her, they invert the order, and propagate their Religion now by arms, and violence, which was wont formerly to be done only with patience, and sufferings. And though war be so brutish, as that it becomes Beasts, rather than Men; so extra∣vagant,

that the Poets feigned it an effect of the Furies; so licentious, that it stops the course of all justice, and honesty; so desperate, that it is best waged by Ruffians, and Banditti; and so un∣christian, that it is contrary to the express com∣mands of the Gospel; yet maugre All this, Peace is too quiet, too unactive, and they must be in∣gaged in the boisterousness of War. Among which undertaking Popes, you shall have some so old, that they can scarce creep, and yet they'l put on a young brisk resolution, will resolve to stick at no pains, to spare no cost, nor to wave any in∣convenience, so they may involve Laws, Religion, Peace, and all other concerns, whether sacred, or civil, in unappeasable tumults, and distracti∣ons. And yet some of their learned fawning Courtiers will interpret this notorious madness for zeal, and piety, and fortitude, having found out the way how a man may draw his sword, and sheath it in his Brother's bowels, and yet not of∣fend against the duty of the second Table, where∣by we are obliged to love our Neighbours as our selves. It is yet uncertain, whether these Romish Fathers have taken Example from, or given Pre∣sident to such other German Bishops, who omitting their Ecclestical Habit, and other ceremonies, appear openly armed Cap a pe, like so many Champions, and Warriours, thinking no doubt that they come short of the duty of their Functi∣on, is they die in any other place than the open field, fighting the Battails of the Lord. The infe∣riour Clergy deeming it unmannerly not to con∣form to their Patrons, and Diocesans, devoutly

tugg, and fight for their Tithes with Syllogisms, and Arguments, as fiercely as with swords, sticks, stones, or any thing that came next to hand. When they read the Rabbies, Fathers, or other ancient writings, how quick-sighted are they in spying out any Sentences, that they may fright the peo∣ple with, and make them believe, that more than the Tenth is due, passing by whatever they meet with in the same Authors, that minds them of the Duty, and Difficulty of their own Office. They never consider, that their shaven crown is a token, that they should pare off, and cut away all the su∣perstuous lusts of this world, and give themselves wholly to Divine Meditation; but instead of this our bald-pated Priests think they have done enough, if they do but mumble over such a fardle of Prayers: which it is a wonder if God should hear, or understand, when they whisper them so softly and in so unknown a language, which they can scarce hear, or understand themselves. This they have in common with other Mecha∣nicks, that they are most subtle in the craft of get∣ting Mony, and wonderfully skill'd in their re∣spective dues of Tithes, Offerings, Perquisites, &c. Thus they are All content to reap the pro∣fit, but as to the burden, That they toss as a ball from one hand to another, and assign it over to any they can get or hire: For as Secular Princes have their Judges, and subordinate Ministers, to act in their name, and supply their stead; so Ec∣clesiastical Governers have their Deputies, Vi∣cars, and Curates, nay many times turn over the whole care of Religion to the Laity. The Laity,

supposing they have nothing to do with the Church (as if their Baptismal Vow did not ini∣tiate them members of it) make it over to the Priests; of the Priests again, Those that are Se∣cular, thinking their Title implies them to be a little too profane, assign this Task over to the Regulars; the Regulars to the Monks; the Monks bandy it from one Order to another, till it light upon the Mendicants; They lay it upon the Car∣thusians, which Order alone keeps Honestly and Piety among them, but really keep them so close, that no body ever yet could see them. Thus the Popes, thrusting only their Sickle into the harvest of Profit, leave all the other toil of Spiritual Hus∣bandry to the Bishops, the Bishops bestow it up∣on the Pastors, the Pastors on their Curates, and their Curates commit it to the Mendicants, who return it again to such, as well know how to make good advantage of the Flock by the benefit of their Fleece.

But I would not be thought purposely to ex∣pose the weaknesses of Popes, and Priests, least I should seem to recede from my Title, and make a Satyr instead of a Panegyrick: Nor let any one imagine, that I reflect on good Princes, by com∣mending of bad ones: I did This only in brief to shew, That there is no one particular person can lead a comfortable life, except he be entred of my Society, and retain me for his Friend. Nor indeed can it be otherwise, since Fortune, that Empress of the world, is so much in league, and amity with Me, that to Wise men she is always stingy, and sparing of her gifts, but is profusely

liberal, and lavish to Fools. Thus Timotheus, the Athenian Commander, in all his Expeditions was a mirrour of good luck, because he was a little underwitted; from him was occasioned the Gre∣cian Proverb, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 the Net fills, though the Fisherman sleeps: There is also another favourable Proverb, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 the Owl flies, an Omen of success. But against Wise men are pointed these ill-aboding Proverbs, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Born under a bad Planet; Equum habet Sejanum, He cannot ride the Forehorse; Aurum Tholosanum, Ill-gotten goods will never prosper, and more to the same purpose. But I forbear from any farther Proverbializing, lest I should be thought to have rifled my Erasmu's Adagies. To return therefore, Fortune we find still favouring the blunt, and flushing the forward; stroaks, and smooths up Fools, crowning all their undertakings with success: But Wisdom makes her followers bashful, sneaking, and timerous, and therefore you commonly see, that they are reduc'd to hard shifts, must grapple with poverty, cold, and hun∣ger, must lie recluse, despised, and unregarded; while Fools role in money, are advanc'd to digni∣ties, and offices, and in a word have the whole world at command. If any one think it happy to be a Favourite at Court, and to manage the dis∣posal of Places, and Preferments; alass This hap∣piness is so far from being attainable by Wisdom, that the very suspition of it would put a stop to all advancement. Has any man a mind to raise himself a good Estate? Alass, what dealer in the world would ever get a farthing, if he be so wise

as to scruple at Perjury, blush at a Lie, or stick at any fraud, and over-reaching.

Farther, does any one appear a Candidate for any Ecclesiastical Dignity? Why, an Ass, or a Plough-Jobber, shall sooner gain it than a Wise man. Again, are you in love with any handsom Lady? Alas, women-kind are so addicted to Fol∣ly, that they will not at all listen to the Court∣ship of a wise Suitour. Finally, wherever there is any preparation made for mirth, and jollity, all Wise men are sure to be excluded the company, lest they should stint the joy, and damp the frol∣lick. In a word, to what side soever we turn our selves, to Popes, Princes, Judges, Magistrates, Friends, Enemies, Rich, or Poor, all their con∣cerns are managed by money, which because it is undervalued by wise men, therefore, in revenge to be sure, it never comes at Them.

But now, though my Praise, and commenda∣tion might well be endless, yet it is requisite I should put some period to my Speech. I'le there∣fore draw toward an end, when I have first con∣firm'd what I have said by the authority of seve∣ral Authors. Which way of farther proof I shall insist upon, partly that I may not be thought to have said more in my own behalf, than what will be justified by others; and partly, that the Law∣yers may not check me for citing no Presidents, nor Allegations. To imitate them therefore, I will produce some Reports', and Authorities, though perhaps, like Theirs too, they are nothing to the purpose.

First then, it is confest almost to a Proverb, that the Art of Dissembling is a very necessary accomplishment; and therefore it is a common Verse among School-boys,

Stultitiam simulare loco sapientia summa est

To feign the Fool, when fit occasions rise, Argues the being more completely wise.

It is easie therefore to collect, how great a value ought to be put upon real Folly, when the very shadow, and bare imitation of it, is so much e∣stemm'd. Horace, who in his Epistles thus stiles himself,

Me pinguem & nitidum— —Epicuri de grege Porcum,

My sleek-skinn'd corps as smooth, as if I lie 'Mong th' fatted Swine of Epicurus Sty:

This Poet (I say) gives this advice in one of his Odes,

Misce Stultitiam consiliis brevem:

Short Folly with your counsels mix.

The Epithete of short, it is true, is a little impro∣per. The same Poet again has this passage else∣where,

Dulce est desipere in loco,

Well-timed Folly has a sweet rellish

And in another place,

—Mallem delirus inersque videri, Quam sapere & ringi.—

I'd rather much be censur'd for a fool, Than feel the lash and smart of Wisdoms school.

Homer praises Telemachus as much as any one of his Heroes, and yet he gives him the Epithete of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Silly: and the Grecians generally use the same word to express Children, as a token of their Innocence. And what is the Argument of all Homer's Iliads, but only as Horace observes,

Stultorum Regum, & Populorum continet astus,

They Kings, and Subjects dotages contain?

How positive also is Tullies Commendation, That all places are fill'd with Fools? now every Excellence being to be measured by its Extent, the goodness of Folly must be of as large compass, as those uni∣versal places she reaches to. But perhaps Chri∣stians may slight the authority of a Heathen, I could therefore, if I pleased, back and confirm the truth hereof by the citations of several Texts of Scripture; though herein it were perhaps my du∣ty to beg leave of the Divines, that I might so far intrench upon their Prerogative. Supposing a grant, the task seems so difficult, as to require the invocation of some aid, and assistance: yet, because it is unreasonable to put the Muses to the

trouble and expence of so tedious a journey, especially since the business is out of their sphere; I shall choose rather (while I am acting the Di∣vine, and venturing in their Polemick difficul∣ties) to wish my self for such time animated with Scotus his bristling and prickly soul, which I would not care, how afterwards it returned to his body, though for refinement it were stopped at a Pur∣gatory by the way. I cannot but wish, that I might wholly change my character, or at least that some grave Divine in my stead might rehearse this part of the subject for me: for truly I sus∣pect, that some body will accuse me for plundring the Closets of those Reverend men, while I pre∣tend to so much of Divinity, as must appear in my following discourse. Yet however it may not seem strange, that after so long and frequent a converse, I have gleaned some scraps from the Divines; since Horace his wooden God, by hear∣ing his Master read Homer, learned some words of Greek; and Lucian's Cock, by long attention, could readily understand what any man spoke. But now to the purpose, wishing my self success.

Ecclesiastes doth somewhere confess, that there are an infinite number of Fools; now when he speaks of an infinite number, what does he else but imply, that herein is included the whole race of Mankind, except some very few, which I know not whe∣ther ever any one had yet the happiness to see?.

The Prophet Ieremy speaks yet more plainly in his tenth Chapter, where he saith, That every man is brutish in his knowledge. He just before at∣tributes Wisdom to God alone, saying, That the

wise men of the Nations are altogether brutish, and foolish. And in the preceding Chapter he gives this seasonable caution, Let not the Wise man glory in his wisdom: the reason is obvious, bacause no man hath truly any, whereof to glory. But to return to Ecclesiastes, when he saith, vanity of va∣nities, all is vanity, what else can we imagine his meaning to be, than that our whole Life is nothing but one continued interlude of Folly? This con∣firms that assertion of Tully, which is delivered in that noted passage we but just now mentioned, namely, That all places swarm with Fools. Far∣ther, what does the Son of Sirach mean, when he saith in Ecclesiasticus, that the Fool is changed as the Moon, while the Wise man is fix'd as the Sun, than only to hint out the folly of all Mankind, and that the name of Wise is due to no other but the All-wise God? For all Interpreters by Moon un∣derstand Mankind, and by Sun, that fountain of all Light, the Almighty. The same sense is im∣plied in that saying of our Saviour in the Gospel, There is none Good but One, that is God: for if who∣ever is not Wise be consequently a Fool, and if, ac∣cording to the Stoicks, every man be Wise, so far only as he is Good, the meaning of the Text must be, All mortals are unavoidably Fools, and there is none Wise but One, that is God, Solomon also, in the fifteenth Chapter of his Proverbs, hath this expression, Folly is joy to him that is destitute of Wisdom; plainly intimating, that the Wise man is attended with grief, and vaxation, while the Foolish only role in delight, and pleasure. To the same purpose is that saying of his, in the first

Chapter of Ecclesiastes: In much wisdom is much grief, and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow. Again, it is confess'd by the same Prea∣cher, in the seventh Chapter of the same Book, That the heart of the Wise is in the house of mourn∣ing, but the heart of Fools is in the house of mirth. This Author himself had never attained to such a portion of Wisdom if he had not applied himself to a searching out the frailties, and infirmities of Humane nature; as, if you believe not me, may appear from his own words, in his first Chap∣ter I gave my heart to know Wisdom, and to know Madness and Folly: where it is worthy to be ob∣served, that, as to the order of words, Folly, for its advantage, is put in the last place. Thus Ec∣clesiastes wrot, and thus indeed did an Ecclesiasti∣cal method require, namely, that what has the precedence in dignity, should come hindmost in rank, and order, according to the tenour of that Evangelical Precept, The Last shall be First, and the First shall be Last. And in Ecclesiasticus like∣wise, (whoever was Author of the holy Book which bears that name) in the forty fourth chap∣ter, the excellency of Folly above Wisdom is po∣sitively acknowledg'd: The very words I shall not cite, till I have the advantage of an answer to a question I am proposing, this way of inter∣rogating being frequently made use of by Plato, in his Dialogues between Socrates, and other Dis∣putants. I ask you then, What is it we usually hoard, and lock up, Things of greater esteem, and value, or those which are more common, trite, and despicable? Why are you so backward in

an answer? Since you are so shy, and reserv'd, i'le take the Greek Proverb for a satisfactory Reply, namely, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 foul water is thrown down the Sink: which Saying that no person may slight it, may be convenient to ad∣verstise, That it comes from no meaner an Au∣thor thor than, that Oracle of Truth, Aristotle him∣self. And indeed there is no one on this side Bed∣lam so mad, as to throw out upon the dunghil his Gold, and Jewels, but rather all persons have a close Repository to preserve them in, and secure them under all the locks, bolts, and bars, that ei∣ther Art can contrive, or Fears suggest: whereas the Dirt, Pebbles, and Oyster-shels, that lie scat∣tered in the streets, ye trample upon, pass by, and take no notice of. If then what is more va∣luable be coffer'd up, and what less so, lyes unregar∣ded; it follows, that accordingly Folly should meet with a greater esteem than Wisdom, because that wise Author advises us to the keeping close, and concealing the first, and exposing, or laying open the other: As, take him now in his own words, Better is he that hideth his Folly, than him that hideth his Wisdom. Beside, the Sacred Text does oft ascribe Innocence, and Sincerity to Fools, while the Wise man is apt to be a haughty scorner of all such, as he thinks, or censures to have less wit than himself: For so I understand that passage in the tenth Chapter of Ecclesiastes, When he that is a Fool walketh by the way, his Wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that He is a Fool. Now what greater argument of candor or ingenuity can there be, than to demean your self

equal with all others, and not think their desserts any way inferiour to his own. Folly is no such scandalous Attribute, but that the wise Agur was, not ashamed to confess it in the thirtieth Chap∣ter of Proverbs: Surely (saith he) I am more bru∣tish than any man, and have not the understanding of a man. Nay, St. Paul himself, that great Doctor of the Gentiles, writing to his Corinthians, rea∣dily owns the name, saying. If any man speak as a Fool, I more; as if to have been less so, had been a reproach, and disgrace. But perhaps I may be censured for mis-interpreting this Text by some modern Annotators, who like Crows pecking at one anothers eyes, find fault, and correct all that went before them, and pretend each their own Glosses to contain the only, true, and genuine ex∣plication; among whom my Erasmus (whom I cannot but mention with respect) may challenge the second place, if not the precedency. This citation (say they) is purely impertinent; the meaning of the Apostle is far different from what you dream of: he would not have these words to understood, as if he desired to be thought a greater Fool than the rest, but only when he had before said, Are they Ministers of Christ, so am I: As if the equalling himself herein to others had been too little, he adds, I am more, thinking a bare equality not enough, unless he were even superiour to those he compares himself with. This he would have to be believed as true; yet left it might be thought offensive, as bordering too much on arrogance, and conceit, he tempers, and al∣leviates it by the covert of Folly. I speak (says

he) as a Fool, knowing it to be the peculiar pri∣viledge of Fools to speak the truth without giving offence. But what St. Paul's thoughts were when he wrot this, I leave for them to determine. In my own judgement at least, I prefer the opinion of the good old tun-bellied Divines, with whom its safer, and more creditable to err, than to be in the right with smattering, raw Novices.

Nor indeed should any one mind the late Cri∣ticks any more, than the sensless chattering of a Daw: especially since one of the most eminent of them (whose name I advisedly conceal, left some of our Wits should be taunt∣ing him with the Greek Proverb,* 1.1 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Ad Lyram Asinus) magisterially, and dogmatically descanting upon this Text, [Are they the Ministers of Christ, (I speak as a Fool) I am more] makes a distinct Chapter, and (which without good store of Logick he could never have done) adds a new Section, and then gives this Paraphrase, which I shall verbatim recite, that you may have his words, Materially, as well as For∣mally, his sense, (for that's one of their babling distinctions.) [I speak as a Fool] that is, If the equalling my self to those false Apostles would have been construed as the vaunt of a Fool, I will willingly be accounted a greater-Fool, by taking place of them, and openly pleading, That as to their Ministry I not only come up even with them, but out-strip, and go beyond them: Though this same Commentator a little after, as it were for∣getting what he had just before delivered, tacks

about and shifts to another interpretation.

But why do I insist upon any one particular Example, when in general it is the publick char∣ter of all Divines to mould, and bend the sacred Oracles, till they comply with their own fancy, spreading them (as Heaven by its Creator) like a Curtain, closing together, or drawing them back, as they please? Thus indeed St. Paul himself minces, and mangles some citations he makes use of, and seems to wrest them to a different sense, from what they were first intended for, as is con∣fess'd by the great Linguist St. Hierom. Thus when that Apostle saw at Athens the Inscription of an Altar, he draws from it an argument for the proof of the Christian Religion; but leaving out great part of the sentence, which perhaps, is fully recited, might have prejudiced his cause, he mentions only the two last words, viz. To the unknown God; and this too not without altera∣tion, for the whole Inscription runs thus: To the Gods of Asia, Europe, and Africa, To all foreign, and unknown Gods..

Tis in imitation of the same pattern, I'le war∣rant you, that our young Divines, by leaving out four or five words in a place, and putting a false construction on the rest, can make any passage Ter∣viceable to their own purpose; though from the coherence of what went before, or follows after, the genuine meaning appears to be either wide enough, or perhaps quite contradictory to what they would thrust, and impose upon it. In which knack the Divines are grown now so expert, that the Lawyers themselves begin to be jealous of an

encroachment on what was formally their sole priviledge, and practice. And indeed, what can they despair of proving, since the fore-mentioned Commentator (I had almost blundred out his name, but that I am restrained by fear of the same Greek Proverbial Sarcasm) did upon a Text of St. Luke put an interpretation, no more agreea∣ble to the meaning of the place, than one con∣trary quality is to another? The Passage is This; when Iudas's treachery was preparing to be exe∣cuted, and accordingly it seem'd requisite, that all the Disciples should be provided to guard, and secure their assaulted Master, our Saviour, that he might piously caution them against reliance for his delivery on any worldly strength, asks them, whether in all their Embassy they lacked any thing, when he had sent them out so unfurnished for the performance of a long journey, that they had not so much as Shoos to defend their feet from the injuries of slints, and thorns, or a Scrip, to carry a meals meat in; and when they had an∣swered, that they lacked nothing, He adds, But now he that hath a purse let him take it, and likewise a scrip, and he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one: Now when the whole do∣ctrine of our Saviour inculcates nothing more frequently than Meekness, Patience, and a con∣tempt of this world, is it not plain, what the meaning of the place is? Namely, that he might now dismiss his Embassadours in a more naked, defensless condition, he does not onely advise them to take no thought for shoos, or scrip, but even commands them to part with the very

cloaths from their back, that so they might have the less incumbrance, and entanglement, in the going through their office, and function. He cau∣tions them, it is true, to be furnished with a Sword, yet not such a carnal one, as Rogues, and High-way men make use of for murder, and bloud∣shed, but with the sword of the Spirit, which pier∣ces through the heart, and searches out the inner∣most retirements of the soul, lopping off all our lust, and corrupt affections, and leaving nothing in possession of our breast but piety, zeal, and devotion: This (I say) in my opinion is the most natural interpretation. But see how that Divine mis-understands the place: By Sword (says he) is meant Defence against Persecution; by Scrip, or Purse, a sufficient quantity of Provision; as is Christ had, by considering better of it, changed his mind, in reference to that mean equipage, which he had before sent his Disciples in, and therefore came now to a recantation of what he had formerly instituted: Or, as if he had for∣got what in time past he had told them, Blessed are you when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you for my sake. Render not evil for evil, for blessed are the Meek, not the Cruel: As if he had forgot that he en∣couraged them by the examples of Sparrows, and Lillies, to take no thought for the Morrow, he gives them now another Lesson, and charges them, ra∣ther than go without a sword, to sell their garment, and buy one; as if the going cold, and naked, were more excusable than the marching unarmed. And as this Author thinks all means, which are requi∣site

for the prevention, or retaliation of injuries, to be implied under the name of Sword, so under that of Scrip, he would have every thing to be com∣prehended, which either the necessity, or conve∣niency of Life requires.

Thus does this provident Commentator fur∣nish out the Disciples with Halberts; Spears, and Guns, for the enterprise of preaching Christ cru∣cified; He supplies them at the same time with Pockets, Bags, and Portmanteaus, that they might carry their Cupboards as well as their Bellies al∣ways about them: He takes no notice, how our Saviour afterwards rebukes Peter for drawing that sword, which he had just before so strictly charg'd him to buy; nor that it is ever recorded, that the Primitive Christians did by no ways withstand their Heathen Persecutors otherwise than with tears, and prayers, which they would have ex∣changed more effectually for swords, and buck∣lers, if they had thought this Text would have bore them out.

There is Another, and he of no mean credit, whom for respect to his person I shall forbear to name, who commenting upon that verse in the Prophet Habakkuk, [I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction, and the Curtains of the land of Midian did tremble,] because Tents were sometimes made of Skins, he pretended, that the word Tents did here signify the skin of St. Bartholemew, who was flead for a Martyr.

I my self was lately at a Divinity Disputa∣tion, (where I very often pay my attendance) where one of the Opponents demanded a reason,

Why it should be thought more proper to silence all Hereticks by Sword, and Faggot, rather than convert them by moderate, and sober arguments? A certain Cynical, old Blade, who bore the character of a Divine, legible in the frowns, and wrinkles of his face, not without a great deal of disdain, answered; That it was the express In∣junction of St. Paul himself, in those Directions to Titus, [A man that is an Heretick, after the first and second Admonition, Reject,] quoting it in La∣tin, where the word Reject, is Devita, while all the Auditory wondred at this Citation, and deem'd it no way applicable to his purpose. He at last explain'd himself, saying, That Devita sig∣nified, De vitâ tollendum Hereticum, A Heretick must be slain. Some smiled at his ignorance, but others approved of it, as an Orthodox Com∣ment. And however some disliked, that such violence should be done to so easie a Text, our hair-slitting, and irrefragab••e Doctor went on in triumph: To prove it yet (says he) more unde∣niably, it is commanded in the old Law, [Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live;] Now then, Every Maleficus, or Witch is to be kill'd, but an Heretick is Maleficus, which in the Latin Translation is put for a Witch, Ergo &c. All that were pre∣sent wondred at the ingenuity of the person, and very devoutly embraced his Opinion; never dreaming, that the Law was restrained only to Magicians, Sorcerers, and Enchanters: for other∣wise, if the word Malesicus signified what it most naturally implies, every Evil doer, then Drun∣kenness, and Whoredom, were to meet with the

same capital punishment as Witchcraft. But why should I squander away my time in a too tedious prosecuting of this Topick, which, if drove on to the utmost, would afford talk to eter∣nity? I aim herein at no more than this, name∣ly, That since those grave Doctors take such a swinging range, and latitude, I, who am but a smattering Novice in Divinity, may have the lar∣ger allowance for any slips, or mistakes.

Now therefore I return to St. Paul, who uses these expressions, [Ye suffer fools gladly,] apply∣ing it to himself; and again, [As a fool receive me,] and [That which I speak, I speak not after the Lord, but as it were Foolishly; and in another place, [We are Fools for Christ's sake:] See how these com∣mendations of Folly are equal to the Author of them, both great, and sacred. The same holy person does yet enjoyn, and command the being a Fool as a virtue, of all other most requisite, and ne∣cessary: for says he, [If any man seem to be wise in this world, let him become a Fool, that he may be wise.] Thus St. Luke records, how our Saviour, after his resurrection, joyning himself with two of his Di∣sciples travelling to Emmaus, at his first saluta∣tion he calls them Fools, saying, [O Fools, and slow of heart to believe.] Nor may this seem strange in comparison to what is yet farther delivered by St. Paul, who adventures to attribute some∣thing of Folly even to the All-wise God himself, [The Foolishness of God (says he) is wiser than Men: In which Text St. Origen would not have the word Foolishness any way referr'd to men, or ap∣plicable to the same sense, wherein is to be un∣derstood

that other passage of St. Paul, [The preaching of the Cross to them that perish, foolishness.] But why do I put my self to the trouble of citing so many proofs, since this one may suffice for all, namely, That in those mystical Psalms, wherein David represents the Type of Christ, it is there acknowledged by our Saviour, in way of confes∣sion, that even He himself was guilty of Folly, Thou (says he) O God know'st my foolishness? Nor is it without some reason, that Fools for their plainness, and sincerity of heart, have always been most acceptable to God Almighty. For as the Princes of this world have shrewdly suspected, and carried a jealous eye over such of their Subjects as were the most observant, and deepest Politici∣ans, (for thus Caesar was afraid of the plodding Cassius, and Brutus, thinking himself secure enough from the careless drinking Anthony; Nero like∣wise mistrusted Seneca, and Dionysuis would have been willingly rid of Plato) whereas they can all put greater confidence in such as are of loss subtle∣ty, and contrivance. So our Saviour in like man∣ner dislikes and condemns the wise, and crafty, as St. Paul does expresly declare in these words, God hath chosen the foolish Things of the world; and again, It pleased God by Foolishness to save the world, implying, that by Wisdom it could never have been saved. Nay God himself testifies as much, when he speaks by the mouth of his Prophet, I will destroy the wisdom of the Wise, and bring to nought the understanding of the Learned. Again, our Saviour does solemnly return his Father thanks, for that he had hidden the mysteries of

salvation from the Wise, and reveal'd them to Bahes, i, e. to Fools; for the original word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 being opposed to 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 if one signifie Wise, the other must Foolish. To the same purpose did our bles∣sed Lord frequently condemn and upbraid the Scribes, Pharisees, and Lawyers, while he carries himself kind and obliging to the unlearned multi∣tude: For what other can be the meaning of that tart Denuntiation, Wo unto you Scribes, and Pha∣risees, than, Wo unto you Wise men, whereas he seems chiefly delighted with children, women, and illiterate Fishermen?.

We may farther take notice, that among all the several kinds of Brute creatures, he shews great∣est liking to such as are farthest distant from the subtlety of the Fox. Thus in his progress to Ie∣rusalem he chose to ride sitting upon an Ass, though, if he pleased, he might have mounted the back of a Lion with more of State, and as little of danger. The Holy Spirit chose rather like∣wise to descend from Heaven in the shape of a simple gall-less Dove, than in that of an Eagle, Kite, or other more lofty Fowl..

Thus all along in the Holy Scriptures there are frequent Metaphors, and Similitudes of the most inoffensive creatures, such as Stags, Hinds, Lambs, and the like. Nay those blessed Souls, that in the day of Judgment are to be plac'd at our Saviour's right hand; are call'd Sheep, which are the most sensless, and stupid of all cattle, as is evidenc'd by Aristotle's Greek Proverb, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 a sheep∣ishness of temper, i. e. a dull, blockish, sleepy, un∣manly humour. Yet of such a Flock Christ is not

ashamed to profess himself the Shepherd: nay, he would not only have all his Proselytes termed Sheep, but even He himself would be call'd a Lamb; as when Iohn the Baptist seeth Iesus coming un∣to him, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God; which same title is very often given to our Saviour in the Apocalypse.

All this amounts to no less, than that all mor∣tal men are Fools, even the righteous, and godly, as well as sinners; nay, in some sense our blessed Lord himself, who although he was the wisdom of the Father, yet to repair the infirmities of fallen Man, he became in some measure a Partaker of humane folly, when he took our nature upon him, and was found in fashion as a Man, or when God made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. Nor would he heal those breaches our sins had made by any other method, than by the foolishness of the Cross, published by the ignorant, and unlearned Apostles, to whom he frequently recommends the excellence of Folly, cautioning them against the infectiousness of Wisdom, by the several ex∣amples he proposes them to imitate, such as Children, Lilies, Sparrows, Mustard, and such like being, which are either wholly inanimate, or at least devoid of reason, and ingeny, guided by no other conduct than that of Instinct, with∣out care, trouble, or contrivance. To the same intent the Disciples were warned by their Lord and Master, that when they should be brought un∣to the Synagogues; and unto Magistrates, and Pow∣ers, they should take no thought how, or what thing

they should answer, nor what they should say: They were again strictly forbid to enquire into the times, and seasons, or to place any confidence in their own abilities, but to depend wholly upon Divine as∣sistance.

At the first peopling of Paradise, the Almighty had never laid so strict a charge on our Father Adam, to refrain from eating of the tree of Know∣ledg, except he had thereby sore warned, that the tast of Knowledge would be the bane of all Happiness. St. Paul says expresly, that Knowledge puffeth up, i.e. it is fatal, and poysonous: In pur∣suance whereunto St. Bernard interprets that ex∣ceeding high Mountain, whereon the Devil had erected his seat, to have been the mountain of Knowledge. And perhaps this may be another argument which ought not to be omitted, namely, That Folly is acceptable, at least excusable with the Gods, in as much as they easily pass by the heedless failures of Fools, while the miscarriages of such, as are known to have more wit, shall very hardly obtain a pardon; nay, when a wise man comes to sue for an acquitment from any guilt, he must shrowd himself under the patronage, and pretext of Folly. For thus in the Twelfth of Numbers, Aaron intreats Moses to stay the Le∣prosie of his Sister Miriam, saying, Alas, my Lord, I beseech thee, lay not the sin upon us, wherein we have done foolishly. Thus when David spared Saul's life, when he found him sleeping in a Tent of H••chilah, not willing to stretch forth his hand against the Lord's Anointed, Saul excuses his for∣mer severity by confessing, Behold I have played

the Fool, and have erred exceedingly. David also himself, in much the same form, begs the remis∣sion of his Sin from God Almighty with this pray∣er, Lord, I pray thee, take away the iniquity of thy Servant, for I have done very foolishly; as if he could not have hoped otherwise to have his pardon granted, except he petitioned for it un∣der the covert, and mitigation of Folly. The a∣greeable practice of our Saviour is yet more con∣vincing, who, when he hung upon the Cross, pray∣ed for his Enemies, saying, Father, forgive them, urging no other plea in their behalf than that of their Ignorance, for they know not what they do. To the same effect St. Paul, in his first Epistle to Timothy, acknowledges he had been a Blasphemer, and a Persecuter, But (faith he) I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief. Now what's the meaning of the phrase, [I did it ignorantly] but only This? My fault was occasioned from a mis-informed Folly, not from a deliberate Malice. What signifies [I obtained mercy,] but only that I should not otherwise have obtained it, had not Folly, and Ignorance been my vindication? To the same purpose is that other passage in the my∣sterious Psalmist, which I forgot to mention in its proper place, namely, Oh remember not the sins and offences of my Youth! The word which we ren∣der Offences, is in Latin, Ignorantias, Ignorances: Observe, the two things he alledges in his excuse, are first his rawness of Age, to which Folly, and want of Experience are constant attendants; and secondly, his Ignorances, expressed in the Plural number, for an enhancement, and aggravation of his Foolishness.

But that I may not wear out this Subject too far, to draw now toward a Conclusion, it is observa∣ble, That the Christian Religion seems to have some relation to Folly, and no alliance at all with Wisdom. Of the truth whereof, if you desire far∣ther proof than my bare word, you may please, first, to consider, that Children, Women, Old men, and Fools, led as it were by a secret impulse of Nature, are always most constant in repair∣ing to Church, and most zealous, devout, and attentive in the performance of the several parts of Divine Service: Nay, the first Promulgers of the Gospel, and the first Converts to Christiani∣ty, were men of Plainness, and Simplicity, whol∣ly unacquainted with Secular Policy, or Learn∣ing.

Farther, there are none more silly, or nearer their wits end, than those who are too supersti∣tiously Religious: They are profusely lavish in their Charity, They invite fresh Affronts by an Easie forgiveness of past Injuries; They suffer themselves to be cheated, and imposed upon, by laying claim to the Innocence of the Dove; They make it the interest of no persons to oblige them, because they'l love, and do good to their Enemies, as much as to the most endearing Friends; They banish all Pleasure, feeding upon the Penance of Watching, Fasting, Weeping, Sorrow, and Re∣proach; They value not their lives, but with St. Paul wish to be dissolved, and covet the fiery tryal of Martyrdom: In a word, They seem altogether so destitute of common sense, that their Soul seems already separated from their dead, and unactive

Body. And what else can we imagine all this to be than downright Madness? It is the less strange therefore, that at the Feast of Pentecost, the Apostles should be thought drunk with new wine, or that St. Paul was censured by Festus, to have been beside himself.

And since I have had the confidence to goe thus far, I shall venture yet a little forwar∣der, and be so bold as to say thus much more: All that finall happiness, which Christians, through so many rubs, and briers of difficulties, contend for, is at last no better than a fort of Folly, and Madness. This no question will be thought extravagantly spoke; but consider a while, and deliberately state the case.

First then, the Christians so far agree with the Platonists as to believe, that the Body is no better than a Prison, or Dungeon, for the con∣finement of the Soul. That therefore, while the Soul is shackled to the walls of Flesh, her soar∣ing wings are imp'd, and all her enlivening fa∣culties clogg'd, and fetter'd by the gross particles of Matter, so that she can neither freely range af∣ter, nor, when haply overtook, can quietly con∣template, her proper Object of Truth.

Farther, Plato defines Philosophy to be the meditation of Death, because the one performs the same office with the other, namely, withdraws the mind from all visible, and corporeal objects; therefore while the Soul does patiently actuate the several organs, and members of the Body, so long is a man accounted of a good, and sound

disposition: but when the Soul, weary of her con∣finement, struggles to break Jail, and flie beyond her cage of flesh, and bloud, then a man is censu∣red at least for being maggoty, and crack-braind; nay, if there be any defect in the external or∣gans, it is then termed down-right madness. And yet many times persons thus affected shall have Prophetick Extasies of foretelling things to come, shall in a Rapture talk languages they never before learned, and seem in all things actuated by somewhat Divine, and Extraor∣dinary: And all This no doubt is only the ef∣fect of the Soul's being more released from its engagement to the Body, whereby it can with less impediment exert the energy of Life, and Motion. From hence no question has sprung an observation of like nature, confirmed now into a settled Opinion, That some long experi∣enced Souls in the world, before their dislodging, arrive to the height of Prophetick spirits.

If this disorder arise from an intemperance in Religion, and too high a strain of Devo∣tion, though it be of a somewhat differing sort, yet it is so near a kin to the former, that a great part of mankind apprehend it as a meer Madness; especially when persons of that su∣perstitious humour are so pragmatical, and sin∣gular, as to separate, and live apart as it were from all the world beside: So as they seem to have experienc'd what Plato dreams to have happened between some, who inclosed in a dark cave, did only ruminate on the Ideas,

and Abstracted speculations of Entities; and one other of their company, who had got abroad into the open light, and at his return tells them, what a blind mistake they had lain under; that he had seen the substance of what their dotage of imagination reach'd only in shadow; that there∣fore he could not but pity, and condole their deluding dreams, while they on the other side no less bewail his phrensie, and turn him out of their society for a Lunatick, and Madman.

Thus the vulgar are wholly taken up with those objects that are most familiar to their senses, beyond which they are apt to think All is but Fairy-land; while those that are devout∣ly Religious, scorn to set their thoughts, or af∣fections on any things below, but mount their soul to the pursuit of incorporeal, and invisible Beings: The former, in their marshalling the requisites of Happiness, place Riches in the front, the endowments of the Body in the next rank, and leave the accomplishments of the Soul to bring up the rear; nay, some will scarce believe there is any such thing at all as the Soul, because they cannot literally see a reason of their faith; while the other pay their first-fruits of service to that most simple, and imcomprehensible Being, God, employ them∣selves next in providing for the happiness of that which comes nearest to their immortal Soul, being not at all mindful of their corrupt bodily carcasses, and slighting money as the dirt, and rubbage of the world; Or if at any

time some urging occasions require them to be∣come intangled in secular affairs, they do it with regret, and a kind of ill will, observing what St. Paul advises his Corinthians, Having wives, and yet being as though they had none, Buying, and yet remaining as though they possessed not.

There are between these two sorts of persons many differences in several other respects. As first, though all the Senses have the same mutual relation to the Body, yet some are more gross than others, as those five corporeal ones of Touching, Hearing, Smelling, Seeing, Tast∣ing; whereas some again are more refined, and less adulterated with Matter, such are the Me∣mory, the Understanding, and the Will: Now the Mind will be alway most ready, and expe∣dite at that, to which it is naturally most in∣clined. Hence is it, that a pious soul, imploy∣ing all its power and abilities in the pressing af∣ter such things, as are farthest removed from Sense, is perfectly stupid, and brutish in the management of any worldly affairs; while on the other side the vulgar are so intent upon their business, and imployment, that they have not time to bestow one poor thought upon a future Eternity. From such ardour of Divine meditation was it that St. Bernard in his study drank Oyl instead of Wine, and yet his thoughts were so taken up, that he never observ'd the Mistake.

Farther, among the Passions of the Soul,

some have a greater communication with the Body than others, as Lust, the desire of meat and sleep, Anger, Pride, and Envy; with these the Pious man is in continual war, and irrecon∣cileable enmity, while the Vulgar cherish, and soment them, as the best comforts of Life.

There are other affections of a middle na∣ture, common, and innate to every man; such are Love to ones Country, Duty to Parents, Love to Children, Kindness to Friends, and such like; to these the Vulgar pay some respect, but the Religious endeavour to supplant, and eradicate from their Soul, except they can raise, and sublimate them to the most refined pitch of Virtue; so as to love, or honour their Parents, not barely under that character, (for what did they do more than generate a Body, nay even for that we are primarily beholden to God, the first Parent of all Mankind?) but as Good men only, upon whom is imprinted the lively image of that Divine nature, which they esteem as the chief, and only Good, beyond whom no∣thing deserves to be beloved, nothing desired.

By the same Rule they measure all the other offices, or Duties of Life; in each of which, whatever is earthly, and corporeal, shall, if not wholly rejected, yet at least be put behind what Faith makes the substance of things not seen. Thus in the Sacraments, and all other Acts of Religion, they make a difference between the outward appearance, or body of them, and the more inward Soul, or Spirit. As to in∣stance,

in Fasting, they think it very ineffe∣ctual to abstain from flesh, or debar themselves of a meals meat, (which yet is all the vulgar understand by this duty) unless they likewise restrain their passions, subdue their anger, and mortifie their pride; that the Soul being thus disingaged from the intanglement of the body, may have a better rellish to Spiritual Objects, and take an Antepast of Heaven. Thus (say they) in the holy Eucharist, though the out∣ward Form and Ceremonies are not wholly to be despised, yet are these prejudicial, at least unprofitable, if as bare Signs only they are not accompanied with the thing signified, which is the body, and bloud of Christ, whose death, till his second coming, we are hereby to represent by the vanquishing, and burying our vile af∣fections, that they may arise to a newness of Life, and be united first each to other, then all to Christ.

These are the actions, and meditations of the truly pious person; while the Vulgar place all their Religion in crowding up close to the Altar, in listning to the words of the Priest, and in being very circumspect at the observance of each trifling Ceremony. Nor is it in such cases only as we have here given for Instances, but through his whole course of Life, that the Pious man, without any regard to the baser materials of the body, spends himself wholly in a fix'd intentness upon Spiritual, invisible, and eternal objects.

Now since these persons stand off, and keep at so wide a distance between themselves, it is customary for them both to think each other mad: And were I to give my opinion to which of the two the name does most properly be∣long, I should, I confess, adjudge it to the Re∣ligious; of the reasonableness whereof you may be farther convinced, if I proceed to demon∣strate what I formerly hinted at, namely, that That ultimate happiness, which Religion pro∣poses, is no other than some sort of Madness.

First therefore, Plato dreamt somewhat of this nature, when he tells us, that the Madness of Lovers was of all other dispositions of the bo∣dy most desireable; for he who is once through∣ly smitten with this Passion, lives no longer within himself, but has removed his soul to the same place, where he has settled his affe∣ctions, and looses himself to find the object he so much dotes upon: This straying now, and wandring of a soul from its own mansion, what is it better than a plain transport of Madness? What else can be the meaning of those Prover∣bial phrases, Non est apud se, He is not Him∣self; Ad te redi, Recover your self, and Sibi redditus est, He is come again to Himself? And accordingly, as Love is more hot, and eager, so is the Madness thence ensuing more incura∣ble, and yet more happy. Now what shall be that future happiness of glorified Saints, which pious Souls here on Earth so earnestly groan for, but only that the Spirit, as the more

potent, and prevalent victor, shall over-master, and swallow up the body; and that the more easily, because, while here below, the several members, by being mortified, and kept in subjection, were the better prepared for this saparating change: and afterward the Spirit it self shall be lost, and drown'd in the abyss of Beatisick Vision, so as the whole Man will be then perfectly beyond all its own bounds, and be no otherwise happy than as transported into Extasie, and wonder it feels some unspeak∣able influence from that Omnipotent Being, which makes all things completely blessed by assimilating them to its own likeness? Now although this happiness be then only consum∣mated, when Souls at the general Resurre∣ction shall be re-united to their Bodies, and both be cloathed with Immortality. Yet because a Religious life is but a continued meditation upon, and as it were a Transcript of the Joys of Heaven; therefore to such persons there is allowed some rellish and foretast of that plea∣sure here, which is to be their reward hereaf∣ter. And although This indeed be but a small pittance of satisfaction, compared with that future, inexhaustible fountain of Blessedness; yet does it abundantly overballance all world ly delights, were they all in conjunction set off to their best advantage, so great is the prece∣dency of Spiritual things before Corporeal, of Invisible before Material and Visible. This is what the Apostle gives an eloquent description

of, where he says by way of encouragement, That Eye hath not seen, nor Ear heard, nor hath it entred into the heart of man to conceive those things, which God hath prepared for them that love him. This likewise is that better part which Mary chose, which shall not be taken from her, but perfected, and completed by her mortal putting on immortality.

Now those who are thus devoutly affected, (though few there are so) undergo somewhat of strange alteration, which very nearly ap∣proaches to Madness: They speak many things at an abrupt, and incoherent rate, as if they were actuated by some possessing Daemon; they make an inarticulate noise, without any distin∣guishable sense, or meaning; they sometimes skrew, and distort their faces to uncouth, and antick looks; at one time beyond measure chearful, then as immoderately sullen; now sobbing, then laughing, and soon after sighing, as if they were perfectly distracted, and out of their senses. If they have any sober intervals of coming to themselves again, like St. Paul they then confess, that they were caught up they know not where, whether in the body, or out of the body, they cannot tell; as if they had been in a dead sleep, or trance, they remember no∣thing of what they have heard, seen, said, or done: This they only know, that their past delusion was a most desirable happiness; that therefore they bewail nothing more than the loss of it, nor wish for any greater joy than

the quick return of it, and more durable abode for ever: and this (as I have said) is the fore∣tast, or anticipation of future Blessedness.

But, I doubt, I have forgot my self, and have already transgress'd the bounds of modesty. However, if I have said any thing too confi∣dently, or impertinently, be pleased to consi∣der, that it was spoke by Folly, and that under the person of a Woman; yet at the same time remember the applicableness of that Greek Proverb,

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉,

A Fool oft speaks a seasonable Truth:

Unless you will be so witty as to object, that this makes no Apology for Me, because the word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 signifies a Man, not a Woman, and consequently my Sex debars me from the bene∣fit of that observation.

I perceive now, that, for a concluding Treat, you expect a formal Epilogue, and the summing up of all in a brief recitation; but I'le assure you, you are grosly mistaken, if you suppose, that after such a Hodg-podg medley of Speech, I should be able to recollect any thing I have delivered. Beside, as it is an old Proverb, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 I hate a Pot-companion with a good memory, so indeed I may as truly say, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 I hate a hearer, that will carry

any thing away with him. Wherefore, in short, Farewell; Be Jolly, Live long, Drink deep, ye most Illustrious Votaries of FOLLY.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Nic, Lyra.