Morpheus deſtroy theſe vigilant Cariers, theſe unquiet diſturbers of reſt, that bawling (like Demy Cannons) rent the Porches of my Eares. Were my Eielids cut off, I could not be wider awake then I am now, though it be juſt three a Clock: the purblind Night newly turn'd a Bawd to Letchery; the time when Spirits, Ghoſts, and Payries viſit Toombs and Church-yards, whoſe unſubſtantiall ſhapes ſteals away our motion, ſcare our Reaſon from us. Yet durſt I goe rownd about the World, unarm'd, with Bedes, or bleſt with Crucifix: weare my Soul within my Scabbard, my Life ti'd to my Heel, as careleſſe of ſucceſſe: with ſuch an angry vallor, was I inſpir'd at that time, becauſe depriv'd of ſleepe. But by and by, the modeſt Morne bluſht in the Eaſt: and the Sunne (to recompence thoſe Teares ſhed by weeping Plants) ſhew'd forth his Head: guilding the tops of lofty Trees, plac'd there by unequall Nature, to intercept that Comfort, which Shrubs loſe by their low-humilitie. The elevated Larke leavs his dewy Bed to welcome him, and drops downe tir'de, by ſtriving to clime higher, then his Voyce. I bad farwell to ſleepe, and call'd up the Chamberlaine, who brought me word the Cittizen (being very ſick) deſir'd my company. To his Chamber I went, found him groaning in the Bed, encompaſt with Tokens of his Wives carefull Love; three Night-Caps, two Waſte-Coates, a large Tiffany to keepe his Neck warme, two payre of Italian-Drawers, and a little Downe-Cuſheon: which being thruſt into his Codpiſſe, makes his Breech (forſooth) unſenſible of a hard Saddle, or a trotting Horſe. His ſighs kindled pitty in the Hoſteſſe, whoſe Experience was his Phyſitian, and brought him a Poſſet, cleerd with the juice of ſundry Hearbs, which procurd him his health ſuddenly. So our Reckoning being pay'd we rod a modeſt pace towards Branford, from thence to London: where (after he had directed me to a handſome Lodging, and the place of his owne aboad) wee parted.

I had no friends in the Citty but my Gold, which I eſteem'd ſo much, that I made it Bed-fellow to my Thoughts. Yet there was a Marchant who hath ſworne heretofore he lov'd me, but how? as. Wiſe men love Money; for the uſe of it. Whilſt my Patron liv'd, I could have done him a courteſie; but now the caſe was alter'd, and therefore his friendſhip dead. Neither did the place ever harbor any acquaintance of mine, beſides him, but only one Man (a Cambridge Scholler) whom envious Death tooke from me at Tiburne; he was brought to that fatall end by a Cart, though indeed the main occaſion was his unfortunate Luſt. Let not the Reader, accuſe me of tedious digreſſion from our matter, if I relate the manner of it.

His violent Love ſeaſd upon the Beauty of an Inkeepers Daughter, who was thirty yeares old, and a Mayde: her Chaſtitie being ſtarv'd for want of naturall conſideration: and her Fort vanquiſht, by an unboned Member (the Tongue) for that, that is it, which charmes a Womans credulous minde to beleeve, what ſhe dares not feele, and feele becauſe tis more delightfull then to beleeve: let it ſuffice, the Scholler often knew her in the Hebrew phraſe. One Night amongſt the reſt, ſhe (being enflam'd with a covetous love, futurly to owne his Perſon, and eſtate as a Wife) contriv'd a way how her father, and Mother might (as if by chance) come into the Chamber, and finde them in the midſt of immodeſt action, ſo afterwards enforce him to marry her. She could not carry the plot ſo cloſe, but he perceav'd, her knocking with a Bedſtaffe, was Porter to their entrance. From out the Bed he leaps (untam'd with his amorous combat) faſtens on his good Sword, which bravely he advances in defiance. Her devided Spirits being ſent abroad, ſeverally to withſtand Feare, and Shame, ſhe creeps betweene the Sheets, and winks▪ a true Coward! whoſe ſenſeleſſe imagination commits the protection of his whole Body to his Eie-lids, and bullwarks it with cloſing them, as though he can feele nothing but what he ſees. The Mother (running forth to cry for helpe) is intercepted, by intercepting the Doore. The father ſtrives with a Ioynt ſtoole to beate him thence, which he by meere ſtrength tooke from him, but with looſing the forepart of his Shirt, the loſſe of which got under his ſubjection the old Woman▪ who bluſhing to behold his manhood, ranne (as frighted) behind the Bed, whilſt he immodeſtly (though for modeſtys ſake) turn'd his Breech towards them, and ſought backward. The ſcufle grew now hot, and lowde; therefore he (fearing it might wake the Servants) ſwore if he once more turn'd his face, he would kill them all, which made them quieter. His Doublet, and Stockings being neereſt his reach; were put on; in two Howers ſpace, not ſooner; becauſe his right Hand was wholly imploy'd to manage his Sword: leaſt the father (advantaged by any thing) might recover the Doore. The Mother came backwards to deliver him his Breeches, and ſo by chance ſtumbled over a Stoole; her Huſbands Eies look'd red as fire, ſome thought with anger, but ſure I think they bluſht to behold that, which made him put out the Candle. The darke bred feare in all, but eſpecially in my 〈◊〉 Scholler, who hearing the Servants rayſ'd by the Womans cry, and not able to find his Breeches, ranne downe the Stayres without them; then climes over the back Gate into a narrow Lane, where after he had awhile accompany'd the Northerne Winde, a Drunkard (paſſing that way) reel'd ſull upon him, and falling fell faſt aſleepe upon the Ground, whilſt he depriv'd him of his Breeches: but by reaſon of too much fearfull haſte, and want of light, wore them, as he pul'd them off, with the Linings outward. O Wine! good for none but the fiery Zwitzer, who loves to have his face, richer then his Purſe: thou that ridleſt in operation, and makes this Drunkard happy by depriving him of ſenſe, for though his bare Breech kiſſ'd the cold ſtones, he ſlept ſowndly: whilſt our Scholler (walking through the neighbour Street) is taken by a Watch. The parlous Conſtable (ſpying how unhanſom he was dreſt) ſuſpected him guilty of ſome bawdy buſineſſe, and laughing ſufficiently at him, ſent him to the Counter. But one ſorrow treads upon the Heel of another (ſo ſwift are they in purſuit, when once running to us) the way to the Counter is through that Lane where the Drunkard was, who by this time had recovered his ſenſes, and walk'd ſhivering up and down, in ſearch of his Breeches. The Watch-men ſpying his white Shirt) ſtood ſtill, ſuppoſing him to be a Ghoſt. The Scholler perceiv'd his theft would be diſcover'd; yet was loath to run away, becauſe loath to be taken by another Watch▪ he lik'd this ſo ill. One of his Guardians (being fortify'd with an old charm) marches croſſe-legg'd, ſpitting three times Eaſt-South-Weſt: and afterwards prefers his vallor to a Catechiſing office. In the name of God (quoth he) what art thou? whence doſt thou come? what makeſt thou here? he anſwered, he was not himſelf half an Hour ago, but now he is a Man as others are; of Gods making; only ſome Villain had ſtoln away his Breeches. My acquaintance was found to be that Villain; his Buttock's once more diſrob'd, his ſecret parts too apparantly diſcover'd: And in that manner both were carried to the Counter.

But now let us return to what occaſion'd the relation of this Ieſt. After he was delivered thence, upon promiſe to marry his Whore, he met her Father riding towards Windſor: and being enflam'd with the remembrance of this diſgrace, kill'd him upon the High-way, for which fact, Tiburn depriv'd me of him.

Thus deſtitute of any Friend, to whom I might commit the keeping of my Money, I bought me a ſtrong Trunk, and therein enclos'd it. My Lodging was in Chancery-Lane, my Land-Lord, an old Atturney, who by frequent walking to and fro, about Law-buſineſſe, knew the form of every Stone, which pav'd the Ground, between that place, and weſtminſter-Hall. I obſerv'd nothing that Day worth relation, unleſſe it were the City-Cries: I mean, how every one hath got a differing pronunciation, from intelligible Engliſh. Either they have worn out the parts, wherein thoſe Syllables are particularly moulded, by a continual uſage (conſidering they ſpeak in any other kind plain enough) or elſe many of their words, (progreſſing through their Noſes) are drown'd in that flood which cold purges from the Brain. I ask'd an Oyſter-Wench once, what it was ſhe cry'd? She bad me look into her Basket. Why (quoth I) can I ſind your words there? Yes, ſhe anſwer'd, really ſhap'd too: Did not our Ware ſpeak for themſelves, little would be gotten by them; for we cannot foyl them off with trim Language, which my Ears witneſſing, I muſt needs believe. But leave we theſe Jeaſts, theſe ſuperficiall expreſſions of a full Brain. A Comick-Fancy wrinſt in ſparkling Claret, orwrapt in the Leaves of April Violets, could not wander in alacrative Sence, more then I do now. I tell thee Render, I will be grave, I vow I will: and ſhortly write things worthy thy ſerious obſervation. In the mean time let me commend to thy reading, this Dream; born the firſt Night I lay in London.

COnſideration had ſo much dull'd my Spirits, and black'd my Blood, that I reſolved one Morning to drown it in a Cup of Sack. To the Tavern I went, but being incredulous of thoſe commendations which the Drawer ſold with his Wine, and covetous to arbitrate judiciouſly; I taſted it with my Brains: For though it be more natural, the Palat ſhould give judgement in this kind▪ yet their verdict is prefer'd in Capital controverſies, and therefore ſet ſo light by this when I ſay light, you may take it in a contrary ſenſe, as if my Leggs were unable to ſupport my weight; Unable to ſupport my weight? Very well Goodman Nim! Goodman Fop! Goodman Doggs-Noſe! now my ſneaking modeſty creeps from the matter, and minces it with ambiguous phraſe? Is it not time to leave this? ha? well, howſoever Reader do thou ſuppoſe I was drunk, ſtarke drunk but not with Wine? rather with Liquor diſtill'd from a Womans Brains, and mingled with juice, ſqueeſ'd from a melancholy Heart; for ſo variable, and unproportion'd were my humours. To beat the Drawer, cut off the Heels from my ſhoo's, were only Peccadilloes (as the Italian ſaies) Pigmy-faults: but I forſooth (diſtaſting the Houſe attendance) muſt in all poſt haſt go hire a Servant; a Fellow of ſome Soul! whoſe ſervice muſt not meerly conſiſt in the ſtrength of his Lims, but in the apprehenſive quality of his Brains. Where to get ſuch a one ſuddenly, I could not tell, unleſſe in Paul's? which Church eaſily to paſſe over is impoſſible, 'tis ſo high: therefore ſomthing we will ſay of it. Only let us refrain to expreſſe with a pittifull-deſcription the ruines of Time, becauſe for the moſt part they are plac'd above our reach: even on the top of the Steeple. St. Gregories being compar'd to it, looks like a Church, whoſe charge of building was at the benevolence of a poor Uſurer; or dedicated to ſome undeſerving Saint, who meant to ſhew his humility in the acceptance. The uſe of thoſe Walks within, I do more pitty, then admire their ſpacious ſtate: For wouldſt thou know where the young Wards undoing is contriv'd? go thither, thou ſhalt perceive his Guardian newly enter'd, puffing with haſte, and ſweating by an unaccuſtomd labour he hath taken, to be there half an hour before his politique Companions: a ſpace ſiz'd out to advantage his old judgement, to prevent with premeditation all countermines: His Conſcience preſenting to his guilty fear a puniſhment, before the Sin be quite committed. Wouldſt thou know where the Uſurer, and his Scrivener conſult to cheat the young Heir of Morgag'd Land? Why there too: and are as eaſily diſtinguiſht from other Men by their walking, as from one another by their Garments. The Uſurer (hating the charge of a faſhionable Hat, or all Uoſtly care to preſerve his wither'd Beauty) wears his high-Crownd, according to the old ambitious form: with narrow Brims, leſt it might bar his covetous Face, the reflection of the Suns golden Beams. His long Cloke, Bumbas-Doublet, and Trunk Hoſe are thread-bare: only obſerve his left Thumb, Gloves, and Poſey ever ſticking in his Girdle: which is a Cuſtom graver then his Beard. He moves in bawdy pace, much like a diſeaſed French Man up a Hill: his weak Leggs being unable to ſupport his old Carcaſe: How! can a Uſurer live till he be old? Yes, becauſe his Soul is not worthy the Devils acceptance. The Scrivner is more formal in his Apparel: his whole credit (indeed) depending on a comely outſide. Near them, beholde two leane-Gallants compoſing of a cheat, One with his Nailes dig s freſh inductions from his buſie Head: the other (twirling his Band-ſtrings) findes there a way to tie all up with a ſtrong concluſion. Not far off likwiſe walks another, whoſe continuall diverſity of Garments, proclaimes him diſcended from the Man-in-the-Moone, that changes outſide every Month. He wears a long Scabbard with a Hilt in it, but never a Blade, for that was broak in ſtriving for the Wall, and the Money which ſhould buy an other, ſpent to reconcile himſelfe to his Adverſary: for they fell out of purpoſe to drink together, not like Dutch Men, who drink to fall out. Another in an melancholy trance, marches with his Eies faſtned to the Ground: whilſt his imagination wanders, like my Pen from the matter to which I muſt now returne.

Juſt when I was reading Papers paſted on the South Gate, a luſty young fellow (who perceav'd that I was drunke) pulls me by the Cloke, deſiring ſome privat conference with me: my knowledge never ſaw his face before, nor could his buſineſſe come within the reach of my ſuppoſe. Wel, I walk'd with him ſome halfe a ſcore turnes. Time and diſcourſe he ſpent in inquiring where I was bred? what Gentlemen of note I knew in Gloſterſhire? I told him of divers, whoſe names ſeem'd better acquainted with his Eares, then their Perſons with his Eies: withall aſk'd what urg'd in him this earneſt examination? faith Sir (quoth he) no harme, but I deſire you to give me a Crowne for a privat reaſon to my ſelfe. No thankes heartily quoth I: your privat reaſon appeares to me a publique cauſe (want) which though poorely worne by others, ſeems in you a phantaſticall Cloak, to hide, vvhat you cannot ſhevv. This could not ſuffice him; the Rogue purſſ'd his Brovves in a ſcornefull forme, laught (as it vvere) at my fooliſh thrift: and vvith active vvords, ſubtilly compoſ'd, perſvvaded me, it vvas a thing vvonderfull neceſſarie, or conſequent in hidden ſenſe, his deſires ſhould be accompliſht. Come, come (quoth he) give it me, piſh-give it me I ſay: vvhy thou fool! thou Enemy to thy ovvne good fortunes! fling it quickly, or I'le not ſtay to receave it. My drunken Braines could not apprehend this new impudence: the money I ſtrait vvays threvv him; he as nimbly convayd it into his Pocket: and marching forvvard hurls his Head over his left Shoulder, gives me this revvard. Be rich, be happy, I ſay be happy; for thou vvert borne (young Man) in a happy Hour-farevvell. Theſe words ſtrengthned thoſe ſurmiſes in me, vvhom vvine had made vveake. My ſuppoſitions concerning his qualitie vvere divers, and kill'd one another in contradiction: but at laſt memory ſeaſd on that Philoſopher's opinion, vvho held, every Mans Good Genius offers his ſervice to him, once before he be Thirty yeares old: yet is generally refuſ'd by that feare, vvhich ſpiritual Shapes beget, vvhen our underſtanding is ſcar'd from us. Now my imagination undervalue'd deſert ſo much as to think this my Good Genius in the ſhape of a Beggar. I had three reaſons vvhich vvrought me to this conjecture, and may likevviſe induce thee to believe it an accidentall truth. Firſt I vvas drunke, a ſtrong one, exſtracted from my irrationable-weakneſſe: for vve are apteſt to credit impoſſible things, vvhen the Soule conſideration is drovvn'd: vvhich ſhould dialogue with the Heart, before vve conclude to approve of any thing. Secondly the rawneſſe of my Youth: vvhich doth moſt palpably excuſe my imbecillitie in diſtinguiſhing Truth from falſhood, vvhen you call to mind hovv he diſguiſ'd both, in a ſubtill unknovvne ſhape. Thirdly my beautifull Face vvrapt me in ſuch a vainglorious eſtimation of my Merits; that I thought Fortune could not be too kinde, nor I covetous: for Beauty in a Man begets only a ſelfe-dotage, his imagination being his flattering Glaſſe: vvhere he beholdes vvhat he can never finde (that is) ſomething to attract amorous-amazment from the Spectators Eies: but indeed t'is no beauty, in being beauty, t'is—I vvot not vvhat: a ſuperfluous ornament vvhich vvanton Mayds doe envy more than love: vvhich vviſe Women ſcorne as a thing more inconſtant then their humors, and leſſe becoming. But novv to our purpoſe.

I was deviſing with a fearfull doubt, and Hopefull amazement what to ſay: at laſt aſk'd, whether Heaven had ſent him thus diſguiſ'd, to proffer me his ſervice? the Raſcall (as I underſtood afterwards) was newly diſcarded by his Maſter, and glad of any Mans entertainment: therefore told me (if I pleaſ'd) he would ſerve me with all his Heart, little ſuſpecting what I meant; but ſuppoſ'd ſo much of my Language, which appear'd improper in his apprehenſion, to proceed from ſuperfluous draughts. Well homewards I reel'd, raviſht with poſſeſſing a certaine kind of I knew not what: but ſtill glanc'd back mine Eie, expecting when my Good-Genius would transforme into a caeleſtiall ſhape: though he (a plague on him) was conſtant in the forme of a Roguiſh face, and chang'd only in behavior: for enough I had of ſuch obſervance as belongs to a new Maſter. The Winde had enter'd my Pate, as ſoone as I my Lodging: ſo that I was faine to goe to Bed, where I fell preſently faſt aſleepe. He boldly call'd for a Payre of cleane Sheets, and Trukled under me: never attempting to pick my Pockets: though wickedneſſe was advantag'd with an occaſion ſo provocative. About Midnight I wak'd and hearing one ſnort at my Beds feete, was ſtrucken ſilent with a fearfull admiration. My Thoughts examin'd my Heart concerning the laſt Days actions: my Heart ſummond the aſſiſtance of my Memory: ſo that I recover'd by peecemeale the knowledge of what befell me in Paul's: how my Good Genius brought me to my Lodging: who muſt (by all preſent conſequents) be he that now diſturbs my Ears: which when peruſ'd with ſober cogitation, ſeem'd both ſtrange, and ridiculous. I conſum'd three Howers in tedious ſuſpence, untill (ſtepping from betweene the Sheets) the Sunne Beames uſherd my perſon within his reach: where I beheld an illfavour'd face, adorn'd by a faſhionable Beard. My Hand (troubled with the Cowards-Pallſey) I thruſt towards him, to try whether I could feele what I ſaw; in fine, found him a ſubſtantiall Spirit, a human-Genius: ſo return'd to conſider of it on my Pillow. At Six a Clock he roſe, and after ſome obſequious diligence in the way of ſervice, deliver'd to my inquiſitive mind what thou haſt read: whilſt I finding him indu'd with a notable ſhifting wit, ſtood to a drunken bargain: his name was Oliver Bunge.

NOw though theſe Three did in publique preſent themſelves to our diſcovery; yet know we can diſcloſe thoſe Men too, that murmure in obſcure Corners: who are fearfull even of ſpeaking ſoftly; therefore proclaim to others a dumb ſilence in their own prattle: who whiſper with their Pens, and darkly bring their thoughts to light in Hieroglyphicall words, perſonating Men in the natures of Beaſts, whoſe names (literally or allegorically) doth ſympathize with theirs, whom they aime at. Some of them I hated, becauſe their Works (not ſo commonly extant as mine) took from the worth of mine; yet added not to their Fame: by reaſon they were loath to acknowledge thoſe Baſtards which their Muſe begot. Otherſome I could not hate, but pitty: becauſe they hated themſelves with ſufficient demonſtration in publiſhing their own folly: apply my meaning when thy labour is ill requited; by reading thoſe Verſes which ſo bitterly invegh'd againſt our King, his royall Paſtimes, and moſt judicious diſpoſure of his favour: but if a modeſt reverence (due to that ſacred Majeſtie) muſle thy Eies from beholding ſuch unnaturall blaſphemy; yet ſtrive to encourage thy revenge, by reading thoſe foppiſh ragged Lines; which ſome Iron-witted School-Boy, ſome Leaden-Sould-Puppy bark'd againſt him, whoſe compleat worth, and full deſert, prefer'd him to be his Favourite, that is ſtill conſtant in his politique choice. Or if thou wilt not tempt thy patience to ſuch a dangerous experiment, peruſe the ſenſe of that hypocriticall Satyr, which by way of prayer for the preſervation of his Soveraigns five ſenſes, moſt falſlyaccuſd every one, of a prepoſterous defect. Or if thy duty alſo be in love; and that love, blind to all ſuch Fame-murdering Libells: vouchſafe then to read the humble Petition of that ingenious Gentleman! that parlous wit! who to exceed in a new device; deliver'd it Queen Elizabeths Toomb, and anſwer'd it himſelfe: a neceſſary ſatisfaction, an unneceſſary requeſt; for he that talks to the dumb, muſt reply to his own ſpeech: beſides t'was more probable that the Stones would laugh, then ſpeake: for though Elizabeth's being there ſhould infuſe a contrary paſſion, yet his Jeaſt muſt needs make a Stone laugh; according to the Italian Proverb.

Well, henceforth be all your Lips ſowde up, burie your words (compoſ'd of ſuch unwholſome Breath) in your owne hollow Breaſts, leaſt they infect others. Let your Pens no more betray your thoughts: Nor do you by mimick lookes, ambiguous action with the Head, or politique geſture of the Body, ſeeme neutrally inclinde in your opinion concerning dangerous demaunds: for this Hypocriſie makes a Man a Stranger to his owne deſignes, like Time; ruins where it ſeaſeth: and is only good in that it rewards the uſer with deſtruction. Beſides if your owne particular weale cannot perſwade you to ſilence, yet let Charitie cauſe you to remember, the generall good of our Profeſſion: and how you have leſſend that eſtimation which the World held us in, by a Cowardly preſervation of your owne ſafeties; by a feare to diſcover your ſelves Authors of what privately you publiſh: but 'tis known, a Satyriſt ſhould uſher Action with more holdneſſe, than Reſolation can beget, when danger murders Feare. Impudence in a ſhrivd-Bawde doth not ſo confidently truſt to the helpe of equivocation, as he to the vallor of a factious Spirit. Holyzeale, and a care of his Country, are thoſe pretences wherwith he ſhould gull his owne Conſcience, and ſtrengthen his pure fame throughout the world: but your faint Courage argues Guilt, which you ſeeme privatly to confeſſe, as fearfull of a publique puniſhment: whilſt wee that are valiant, oppoſe our ſelves to ſuffer, what you craftily avoyd. Therefore I conjure you once more (by the paine of my correction) to be dumb hereafter; take heed: but eſpecially mutter not againſt him, whoſe fame is bullwark'd with my Soule, whoſe defence is my reputation▪ which I ſtrive to preſerve (unmaim'd) more for the love I owe his ſafety, then my owne Glory. Beſides your Envy, which when faſtned on others, ſhe ws pale and leane, will then anatomize it ſelfe, and appeare more deform'd, then your baſe diſhoneſty. But ſtay my deere Muſe do not in purſuit of an Enemy, runne thy ſelfe quite out of breath: or with the Caeleſtiall heat of true affection ſacrifize at once thy ſelfe to a friends acceptance. There is one more yet, eminent in thy Maſters hate, whom I diſcover for thy Conqueſt. Courage my Darling for thou muſt fly to Holland, where he lives that dulls our profit, with ſending hither little Pamphlets: which are new-years-guifts, for all thoſe turbulent Heads, who pry into the old yeares actions in hope of alteration. The Books are little worth; unleſſe value'd by the Stationer, who makes the Peoples fond eſtimation his gaine: and in that doth us a courteſie, for though comming from farr, make them more pleaſing to ignorant fancy, yet it makes them diſpleaſing to the Purſe: which being a thing neerer their love, and tie'd with their very Heart-ſtrings, cannot but prefer our cheape Bookes to the third degree of Compariſon. Some account them learned, but t'is in accuſation not in commendation: for Schollers (who have not long practiſ'd the Practique part of what they ſtudy) are naturally enclind to a prodigall utterance of ſuch deepe knowledge, as unprofitable Memory doth intrude into the company of Matter, which would expreſſe more Skill, with leſſe Art. It is a learned imperfection like▪I wot not what to call it: but they do ſtifle their meaning, by ſtriving with a multitude of Sentences to give it life: & thinking they can never make uſe of al which they have read; expreſſe their Schollerſhip with as much impertinencie, as want of Ignorance with palpabilitie. Beſides though his ſawcy treatiſes of our State, and Government are approv'd of by thoſe, that are faine to make Report a Tutor to their knowledge, that are meerly States-men by reading his Bookes. Yet others who get Experience in their high Offices, and abilitie to diſtinguiſh by their ſound learning, finde him unable to frame an Idea, of what he ſtrives really to compoſe much leſſe correct that, which Ignorance makes him dislike.

But returne wee now from Holland, leaſt the groſſe dull Ayre infect our Braines, the Boores our manners: ſo that we forget all the formall complement belonging to a new Book. They are a Nation that ſwimme in their owne profitable ſweat: that have found out what ſweet ſucceſſe depends on ſudden-Induſtry, therefore tire themſelves with▪ covetous▪ Labour, ſecurely to take reſt. Their faſhions are moſt uncivill, for did not a legall puniſhment curb their naturall diſpoſition, they would demonſtrate more Atheiſticall behaviour, then religious feare. They never fight but under the Banner of Bacchus, who having ſafely ſhrowded their Imagination in a Mote of Engliſh Beer, they can be deſperate not valiant. To call them Traytors were with blunt phraſe to conclude raſhely, what others with equivocating Arguments have tediouſly diſputed on, but never abſolutely agreed in arbitration▪ or rather poorely to require that ſawcy Language, which they utter againſt his ſacred Perſon, whom with love, and duty I equally adore. Their Government is a compoſ'd-confuſion of new Policy. Some think it an Oligarchie, ſome a Democracie, ſome between both. But ſure I am the Peoples Hearts rebell to attaine the firſt: though the ambition of rich Merchants labours for the ſecond, and compells them to live between both. I only grieve that our Gentlemen, Younger Brothers (who by comming a year lag of ſome nimble Fop into the World, come to ſoone to inherit Sorrow) ſhould lie Perdu in ſafeguard of ſuch Pedants, for three Shillings a Weeke: O penurious Neceſſitie! and neceſſarie Thrift! Who can Maintaine a Soul with ſo poore a ſtipend, for the love too of ſuch ingratefull Monſters, that peece up their pay with publique contempt, and privat fcoffs. I vow by the Spirit of a Nim, I had rather ceaſe to exſiſt. But I muſt come now to that, from which I have wander'd.

Full ſeaven Months did I labour by invective Songs to diſſect from the Body of my calling, unprofitable Members: ſuch who were meerly ſhapes of uneffectuall uſe, thereby thinking to enter into a publique Controverſie, with ſome one eminent in vulgar eſtimation, and too weake in faculties to withſtand my oppoſition: which had bin a choiſe way to have made my ſelfe famous in the World, and particular in all Mens notice▪ for he that diſcommends others, ſeemes to commend him ſelfe by a dumb-compariſon: and ſelfe-commendations the World will prie into, in expectation of ſome ſupernaturall guift, that may excuſe ſuch immodeſt Vaineglory. The publiſher of my Writings was my unfortunate Rogue Bunge, who preſeuted them to his old Maſters, as ſtolne from me▪ now whether they (unable to apprehend conceipt) neglected to divulge them abroad, or elſe (being divulg'd) None whom I challenged, durſt take exceptions; as fearfull to invire more Anger, I know not: but ſure I am they prov'd to me of no effect. One merry accident (occaſioned by theſe proceedings) I will not omit thy knovvledge.

A Certain young Gentlewoman (enrîcht with a compudent Portion by her diſceaſod Fathers Will) grew carnally acquainted with a wealthy Ward: one that did not long enjoy her to himſelf, becauſe he was not alwaies ſufficiently provided to pleaſe her inſatiable Appetite: for 'tis with Maids as with Tobacconiſts, who having once taſted in delight, what before with Pain they did avoid, they cannot live without it: which made her ſtray for freſh paſture. At laſt her Fancy lighted on a Drummer, whoſe name was Peel: a Fellow limm'd for prodigality in action: made to people Countries, to beget more Men, then the Plague devours. Her greedy Paſſion could not attend upon formality, or tedious Time, till Occaſion might preſent her with an accident that would excuſo her immodeſty, in diſcovering ſuch diſhoneſt Love: but boldly ſhe ſends for him to her Fathers Houſe, where firſt ſhe ſaw him (in the company of a Serving-man) and unfolds to him her mind, which he admir'd, and likld: ſo that the next Morning he ſtole her from her Friends, brought her to London, and married her. The ward hears of it, purſues them thither; and by a politique inquiſition found out their Lodging. Of late time ſhe had made his fooliſh dotage her mirth, wherefore now he entends ſhe ſhall be ſerved with the like Sawce: purpoſing to ſend her a Copy of Verſes, wherein he would bitterly deride, her & Peel the Drummer. Of theſe Verſes I became Author by this chance.

Bunge paſſing through Fleet-Street about my buſineſſe, met with an old Maſter of his, who accompany'd the Ward, and hath heretofore been: viſited with my Papers. After a little talk between them he acquainted him with what thou haſt read, deſir'd him that he would procure me to write ſome Verſes upon that ſubject, and bring them to the wards logding before night. Bunge preſently return'd home to tell me the Plot, on which I wrote thus.

Theſe being fairly written; Bunge convey'd unto the young wards Lodging, who was privately inform'd, that the Drummer, and his Wife knew of his being in Town, therefore (to avoid his company) chang'd their aboade: but whither went they? even into Turnball-Street: juſt the politique ſhift of a poor Souldier, whoſe neceſſity is ſo well accommodated, with convenient aſſiſtance, to raiſe him to the height of a good Fortune, that he often falls in climing, but ſo low, as he can never reach it again. The Houſe was polluted with a bawdy Tenant: whoſe acquaintance my Drummer bought dearly on a Saturday Night: reeling into the Door with a conſort of baſe Companions. His love-ſick Wife was eaſily perſwaded to believe the Rawd his Mothers own Siſter: and the place very convenient to conceal this ſtoln Marriage. Now thoſe who before enform'd the ward of their firſt lodging, dogg'd them alſo to this, and preſently brought him word, in what a ſtately Palace the poor Drummer entertain'd her. Out of a politique prodigalitie he gave Bunge three Pounds for the Verſes: thinking to buy a gratitude ſo potent in him, that he ſhould ſuppoſe no ſecond ſervice full in requitall, no though he ventured a beating by it. So whilſt the Gentleman (Bungs old Maſter) entertain'd him with impertient diſcourſe, the ward enclos'd the Verſes in an other Paper, which he ſeal'd and ſuperſcrib'd in the true name of his quondam Miſtreſſe, lodging at the Sign of Sun and Moon in Turnball-Street: knowing, though Bunge had heard of the name of Peel, yet with hers he was wholly unacquainted: beſides to prevent all motives of ſuſpition, he gave it him in private; ſaying, we are all mortall, Fleſh and Blood: Young men muſt be tamed when they are luſty. I am now ſick of too much health, but that ſuperſcription wil direct thee to a shee Galon, one that will purge the Body of all rampant humours: wholſom ſhe is, though poor. My own Man is a Country-Cockney, never came within the ſmell of a City, never ſaw the Cities Face; much leſſe the ſecret parts of it, therefore is unfit to be employ'd in this buſineſſe. Now if thou wilt go, and bring her to me, by the virtue of that Letter, I ſhall exceed in a gratuity: but make haſte back, for you muſt preſently alſo aſſiſt us in the delivery of our Verſes. The Rogue Bunge ſuſpected nothing, but did impudently ſteal a modeſt laughter: turn'd aſide, not as if he were aſhamed of what he heard, but of what he was about to ſpeak: Quoth he (as though loſt in complement) O Lord Sir! you ſhall not need to take care for that neceſſarie implement: I'le provide one againſt Night; but not out of Turnball-Street: that place cannot afford a Creature worthy your Worſhips embraces. The ward was glad that he inſiſted in ſtrengthning a miſtake, thank'd him for his kindneſſe, and ſaid he would uſe none but her: he knew ſhe was wholſome, but many of your brave, glorious whores are like Tedula Quinces; the fairer on the outſide, the rotner within. Bunge being greedy of ſudden imployment, took his leave, well ſatisfied with that reply.

He vvas no ſooner come vvithin the reach of their Tongues, vvho border in that hot Continent: but every one (as their faſhion is) lured him into their Kennell, there to coole him according to a Philoſophicall rule, Heat expells Heat. The Sunne attracts not Cloudes faſter then theſe Whores Paſſengers: in vvhom Beauty dravves corruption to defile it ſelfe. Bunge needed not enquire for the ſigne of the Sunne and Moone, becauſe the properties of both (heate and inconſtancie) did poſſeſſe a Wench, which ſtood in the ſame Doore: and thinking that he was ſome ſtarved Cuſtomer, enticed him to enter: vvhilſt his Eies looking on the ſigne; found it expedient her requeſt ſhould be accompliſhed.

After two Oathes ſworne in defiance of her ſecret-parts, and three Buſſes given in ſatisfaction for ſuch honeſt unkindneſſe; he enquires for that Gentlewoman, to whom his Letter was directed. The Whore being wholly unperfect in the knowledg of her Name, did expreſſe (by a forgetfull admiration, or an inquiſitive forgetfullneſſe) ſmall acquaintance; and that very young to: wherefore Bunge thought the Gentlewoman to be a wanton Country Wench, but not yet of reſidence long enough to know the Frenchdiſeaſe: a rare ignorance! which made his Appetite reſolve to taſte her, before him, that ſent him to her. Up Staires he mounted, and the Wench led him through a Labyrinth of darke Cloſſers: which the Workman ſeem'd ſubtitly to hide from his owne diſcovery: or from every Eie, as aſhamed to acknowledge the making of ſuch ſinfull Cabinets; where aged. Beds oppoſe each other in envious ſeituation. Having (I ſay) paſſed this reall Purgatory, ſhe directed him to a Chamber; wherein he entered, and found the Drummer, and his Laſſe warming the Fire. Beleeve it Reader, even ſo: for though the Fire would not warme them, they ſat by it to keepe away the Winde, or to encloſe the heate to a narrow diſperſion, that ſo it might reflect upon it ſelfe. Though t'is a queſtion whether there were any Fire at all? for Bunge ſvvore he could not diſcerne enough to warme his Eies. Which makes me think ſhe was enflamed with burning Love, that for his ſake could be content of ſuch cold entertainment.

Bunge liked her face well, but ſuppoſ'd the Drummer to be ſome learned Pander; that ſat expounding to her, the myſtery of that calling. When he ſtep'd in, they both ſtood up (an uſuall complement at the firſt ſight of Strangers) and gazeing upon one another with ſpeaking Eies; did (as it were) dumbly aſke, whether he vvere knowne to either? vvhilſt he took her aſide and kiſſ'd her. The Drummer did not like that, yet durſt not expreſſe anger, leſt a Quarrell might call up the Bawde, and Whores; ſo conſequently, his Wife diſcover the conditions of the Houſe, who was yet ignorant of them. But this his ſufferance did turne Bunge's likely conjecture (that ſhe was a Country Whore) into a ſtrong beliefe: for now he convayes her with an intreated force, and the mentioning of a Letter, into the next Chamber: Peeles creepes after them in ſearch of the event, and faſtening his Eie in a Key-hole; perceaved Bunge labouring to make him Cuckold: whilſt the Gentlewoman oppoſ'd his deſires, more with a new wonder, then an old defence, as ſhreekes, or loud acclamations.

The Souldier loſt his Patience, but with a conſidering. Eie found it againe: yet ſo thredbare that he ſcorn'd to weare it. Therefore through the Dores he went: demanding him, how he durſt offer his Perſon that diſgrace? Bunge knew no ſafer anſwer then a deniall: & ſuppoſ'd by theſe proceedings that Peele was ſome blunt Gentleman, who had lately undertaken to be her Lover. Therefore he deprives his Pocket of the Letter, and gave it her: telling him, how he knew the Gentlewoman would acknowledge him better wellcome, when ſhe had read that.

Thus whilſt he retyr'd him ſelfe aſſide, in conſideration how he might enjoy her Body, they unſealed the Letter: found that blanke, but the Paper therein encloſed, fill'd with Verſes. Peele being loath to degenerat from his Brethren of the Sword (who in this kind love to expreſſe more will, then they can abilitie) undertooke to read them: but indeed could not in any reaſonable time. And ſpying his own name by chance, was greedy to underſtand the cauſe of its being there, reſolving to tickle Bunge below, becauſe after her help was joyn'd to his, he deſcried the wrong, and entreated her to ſtay there: leaſt Bunge (urging the baſe cuſtom of the Houſe for his excuſe) might diſgrace him for bringing her to ſuch a Lodging. But ſhe, poore Soul, was willing to be commanded, whilſt Bunge at his entreaty, and promiſe to anſwer the Letter, walks with him downe the Staires. Having deſcended one Paire, Bunge entreated him to diſpatch the Letter in the next Chamber: in the meane time he would goe up, and diſcourſe with her about it: for he remembred now he was ſo commanded by the Gentleman that ſent him. Peeles fingers itch'd to be at his face: but the Roome being towards the Street, agreed not with that purpoſe. Therefore he entreated him to viſit the Celler: where (quoth he) having drunke a Health to the Gentleman, you ſhall goe up and commit your pleaſure. The phraſe lik'd him well; ſo down they went. Juſt upon their entring into the Seller Dore, Bung deſired to be acquainted with his name that he might tell the VVard to whom he was ſo much beholding. He anſwered, his name was Peel, by profeſſion a poor Drummer: at wch Bung ſtep'd back whilſt his Breech made as many Buttons, as he thought to have broke with drinking. His reſcue (which moſt commonly conſiſted in the dexterity of his Heels) was barr'd from him by Five ſtrong Dores. Therefore he pulls up his Spirits, even unto his Tongue: thinking to fright the Drummer with big words.

Juſt in ſuch a Celler as this (quoth he) this—let me ſee a little—I, in ſuch a one as this, did my weak Arm beat Nine Rogues; that would needs enforce me to pledg my Enemies Health. The Drummer thought that a fearfull Ly, and preſently ſaluted him with a Box upon the Ear, ſeconded that with another; which fell'd him to the Ground, and there kikt him. Bung ſcorned to reſiſt, but cryed Murder! murder! help ho! help! The Bawd came thundering down with a brace of Whores, to know what the matter was. Peel having acquainted them with the cauſe that motiv'd this revenge, they all cryed out, Geld the Rogue, geld the Canniball. Bung applies himſelf once more to be reſcu'd by an old Friend (his Tongue) and beggs mercy from them, ſwearing he knew not thoſe Verſes were incloſed in the Paper, which pacified the Whores: who brought him up to the Street dore, and thruſting him out, did ſhut it after him. Homewards he creeps with his Face muffled in his Cloak. Beating he did never greatly love: therefore wholly dedicates his Studies, how to revenge himſelf on the young Ward, and Peel the Drummer, which afterwards he did: but Preſerve the manner how to be related in the next Chapter.

IN our way of relating Bung's revenge, I hold it requiſte to paſſe through Turnbal-Street: and there admire (Cuſtom) which is to be ignorant in Folly: Not like a handſome Novice: who walks by with his Eies faſtned on his Back; prying careleſly who looks upon him? who beckens him in? if no body ſupplies that expectation, then he begins to hate his own Face, to diſcommend what before he prais'd, as purpoſing to ſell, like the poor Stallion, his maſculine beauty. No Reader; I intend to pick out from the whole rable a Whore: and prefer her in a Character to thy immaginary view. If thou affect my deſcription, thou wilt loath her: ſuch a ſtrange Antipathie bears it with its own ſenſe, having (indeed) choſen a Subject that infects wit. Suppoſe where ſhe ſtands in a Red-Waſtcot, that is more out of faſhion then her Face, which was made fifty years before it. No doubt ſhe hath worn a Gown too: but that was when the ſale of her Beauty could return the coſt of it into the Bawds Purſe. Talk with her, and ſhe will bring thee into an ignorant Jealouſie, or a Jealous ſuſpence; who was thy Father? For ſhe ſlanders all Women, to make her ſelf appear leſſe common in compariſon: and uſually in ſuch ambiguous phraſe, which effeminiſh policy affords: as thus. It may be ſhe is, it may be ſhe is not: but alas, alas, I know what I know, i faith, yet will accuſe no body.

She is afraid to go to Church, leaſt the Sermon might convert her: and hates the Story of a decayed Whore, becauſe ſhe affects not melancholly. Her Breath is ſtrong enough to overcome thy ſenſe of ſmelling, and hath already ſcorch'd up her Noſe: which to obſcure, ſhe wears before it a green Curtain. Being naked, ſhe ſeems an intire Scabbe; a great proportionable Boyle: and her Clothes being on her, look like plaiſters, yet this is ſhe who heretofore did mince a ſtolne pace as if ſhe ſcorn'd Motion: whom Pride did become as a full Oath doth a deſperate Gallant: that fichew'd with a degenerate poſture of the Chinne: tripp'd on her agill Toes like a Kibeheel'd-Fairie: that ſhreek'd at the drawing of a Knife: ſwoonded at the ſight of fat Meat: that affected ſingularity in gracefull Oathes, clipp'd the Kings Engliſh: and ſeemed ignorant how rightly to call that, which wantonly ſhe nicknam'd. Ogiddy-Headed Time! that doſt ſo delight in alteration: that haſt changed the ſhape of a glorious, handſome Curtezan, into the ſubſtance of a Fulſome, naſty, ſtinking Whore.

But now let our relation purſue Bunge: who within an Hour after he was beaten, return'd unto the VVard's Lodging: finding him at his arrivall tickled with a mad Laughter: whilſt he carried himſelf as altogether unſenſible of any beating, and demands what motiv'd that mirth. The VVard miſtaking the diſſimulation, changed his Humour into a ſadder: asking whether he had delivered the Letter to his Miſtreſſe? no (quoth Bung) ſhe was gone forth to Supper, in the company of a certain Sweet-Heart: but I left it with the Bawde: who told me ſhe was to meet them at Eight of the Clock in Old Exchange, and then ſhe would deliver it. The VVard ſuppos'd all this was true: but griev'd that the Verſes were ſo inſucceſſively left in Peel's Lodging: yet in expectation of ſome accidentall merriment, he commanded him to meet him likewiſe in the Exchange at the appointed Hour. Bung (promiſing to accompliſh his deſires) tooke his leave, and went to a Taverne, whoſe backDore enters into Turnball-Street: where he wrote a Note to Peele, and ſent it by a Drawer; accompanied with a Gallon of Sack. The Contents of which, deſired his Friendſhip, and that by the Vertue of the Wine, he might be licenſed preſently to ſpeak with him, where they would adviſe in compoſing of a Plot, how to be revenged upon the VVard.

Peel having received the Letter, and the 〈◊〉 preſent, return'd him word, he was ſorrie for what was paſt, and greatly deſir'd that he would preſently come thither, to receive part of the Wine, and part of ſatisfaction. Bung was glad his Plot did thrive ſo well, went thither; and having made Peele promiſe that he would be in the Exchange about Eight of the Clock (to beat the VVard) he runnes to the Poultry-Counter: where he did Fee a brace of Serjeants to attend Peel in Cheap▪ Side, that as he came back from the Exchange, they might areſt him upon an Action of Battery.

The Hour of meeting was now at hand, and Bung arrived there firſt. But preſently after him, marched in the VVard, accompanied onely with the Gentleman, (of whom we have ſpoken heretofore) who came thither purpoſely to ſee the new married couple. Our revengefull-Polititian perceiv'd now a groſſe overſight, in the firſt contrivement of this geere. For whocan ſuppoſe the VVard would come thither alone? or that having another Gentleman with him, he was not able to reſtore more Blowes, then Peel could give. Therefore their Backs being turn'd, Bung ſteales out of the next Gate, and runnes almoſt as farre as Paules in ſearch of a Porter. At laſt hee hired one to flie to the Exchange, and entreat the Gentleman (relating to him his name, and faſhion of Apparell) to come preſently to the Queene's-Armes by Holborn-Bridge: for there (quoth he) you muſt ſay his Brother is arriv'd very ſick. The Porter delivered his errand effectually▪ and the Gentleman (without inquiring who ſent that meſsage) did take a haſty Farewell of the VVard. Bung returnes thither again, and finding him walking alone, went to him. By and by in comes Peel, and ſuddenly ſpyed that Face, which his Fiſt did intend to batter: not doubting but Bung (according as he had promiſed) would aſſiſt him in the aſſault.

The firſt Blow that he beſtowed upon the VVard, did ſo ſtagger him, that for the preſent he was unable to reſiſt. But Bung (taking a Key out of his Pocket) rewarded Peeles Pate with a prodigall recompence: and in the mean time the VVard recovered ſtrength enough, to be his own Avenger. Peele felt himſelf betray'd to the mercy of two mercileſſe Men: but ſtood yet ſtiffe to his tackling, being moſt pittifully maul'd with Bung's Key: who did not forget (neither) to lend ſome Seaven or Eight blowes with it, unto the VVards face: the which he delivered ſo cunningly, that the VVard thought they came from Peel; and cry'd out murder! ſwearing how Peele fought with a Smith's Hammer. He replies again (with a lowd voice) that it is nothing but a trick to excuſe his own treacherie: for I my ſelf (quoth he) have received Thirteen blowes, able to kill an Oxe. The people now came thronging on to part the Combatants. Peel being loath to be brought in publique examination, ſtole ſecretly away. The VVards Beaver Hat (bordered with Pearle, and adorn'd with a rich Hatband) lay upon the Ground: which Bunge (feeling with his Foot, and favour'd by the dark time of Night) convey'd into his Codpiſſe. The owner inquires diligently for it, and Bung ſeemes more diligent in the recovery: having borrowed a Light of one that ſtood by him purpoſely to ſeek it, or rather to darken the appearance of his own hypocritical Theft, at laſt proclaims it to be loſt. Thus whilſt controverſies are here decided by a buſie multitude, the poor Drummer (walking homewards) was arreſted, and carried to the Countor. A while after the Ward, and Bung were licenſed to go home to their Lodgings: for the Conſtable (whom this hurly-burly drew thither) was contented (ſince the Offenſive party could not be found) to commit a wonder, by ſtanding to reaſon. And our Ward in complementall gratulation, went home bare-headed.

The next Morning Bang's appearance was ſummon'd to anſwer that arreſt which was ſerv'd on Peele. He prepares himſelf to prove it warrantable, but thirſting for a more full revenge, he entrears an old Friend (who was a meer ſtranger in London) to enter an Action of Debt againſt him (in ſome unknown name) for Twelve Hundred pounds; which the Knave perform'd, and within an Hour after, departed from the City. Peel was clear'd of the firſt Action by asking Bung forgiveneſſe: who bought that honour with Four Shillings beſtow'd upon a Juſtices Clerk. The ſecond kept ▪him in the Counter Five daies: untill at laſt (having no Adverſarie to declare againſt him in the Court) he got his liberty: though he had payed ſoundly for being a Priſoner. What became of him and his Wife afterwards, I know not. But the Wards Face did almoſt enrich a Surgeon: for Bung's Key had batter'd it into ſuch an ugly form, that it ſeem'd ever after a Bugg-bear to his own affection.

Though my Man Bunge was poſſeſt with a ſudden Wit, and enrich'd with all thoſe qualities that compoſe a perfect Sharke: yet Cuſtome did operat ſo potently in him, that he could not chooſe but coſen himſelf: which doth impertinently marr thoſe parts, that were bad enough before. He perſwaded himſelf how I loved to be cheated of my Mony. O credulous Confidence! can beleif faſten on that which Suppoſition cannot reach? t'is ſtrange: unleſſe he ſtrove to make himſelfe famous by being ſingular in a new Opinion. One morning he preſented me with a counterfeit Hat-band: verily beleeving that I would pay him forty Shillings for it. I miſliked the price before I knew the qualitie of the Stuffe; carried it to a Goldſmiths, who being aſked whether it was worth ſo much, laugh'd, and told me it was Copper. Then I return'd home againe, and demanded him, wherefore he went about to cheat me? but he enquir'd, of what? I anſwered, of Forty Shillings. Forty Shillings (ſay'd he)? that's Money. Money! (replied I) what of that? Mary (quoth he) for money I'le cheate my owne Father if I can. A gracious Sonne! but ſurely his Father begot him by ſtealth, whilſt the Servants coming ſcar'd him in the Action, for he was both a Thiefe, and a Coward. When I firſt entertained him▪ (perceaving me a Stranger in the knowledge of our City faſhions) he told me, that to let him goe in Cloaks linde with Velvet, would be much for my credit. I thankt him heartily for his care, but in the performance appeared an Heretique. Such like tricks as theſe made me reſolve to part with him the next Quarter Day. And t'was a tardy remedy: for to tell thee the plaine truth, I had by this time (being juſt Ten Months ſince I came to London) conſumed Six ſcore Poundes of my Eſtate; ſo there remained but Sixty Pounds behind: which conſiſted in the reſidue of thoſe Jewels, that were yet unſolde. And all this proceeded through▪ the prodigall directions of that damnable Rogue. Perhaps thou wilt admire (conſidering my Purſe was ſo ſhallow) how I could take ſo much out of it, yet never feel the Bottom, never call to mind that I dip'd not my Hand into a Fountaine. T'is true indeed, it could not ever flow, but my Hopes guided me to a flood: ſuch a one as Jupiter made, when he ſhowred down Gold to Danae. It encompaſt a certaine Caſtle; which I had built in the Aire: whoſe foundation was layd upon a little Book (then newly finiſhed) thinking it would have made me rich, both in Credit, and Money. But when conjectures came to the triall, the Stationer durſt not buy it, alledging that I was not publiquely knovvn to the World, and how t'is the Authors name which makes a Book ſell, not the vvorth of it. Then I anſwered; if it were printed, I ſhould ſoone be famous, and I vvas alſo contented to honor him vvith my Maydenhead. But (quoth he) I am not contented to be ſo honored. I doe not love to hoyſt any. Man high, with my own Purſe-Strings, or stoop to lift another up.

This Book vvas intituled An invective againſt the Cittyzens, and Plebeians of London. It treated of Plebeians firſt by reaſon of the humble courſe of my proceedings: becauſe I ever obſerved to aſcend by degrees. Beſides, Judgment being once ſtrengthned for ambitious Study, with the knowledge of materiall matter, eaſily climes to apprehend, vvhat othervvays had binne above its reach. I could not chooſe but think this Booke vvould proſper, becauſe the Subject ſavour'd of Divinitie: being made to ſuppreſſe uncivill commotions in the one, and in the other covetous abuſes.

The Blebeians did then much trouble the State, with inſolent behaviour. For Embaſſadors (paſſing through the Streets) were rudely interrupted, pointed, and laugh'd at in ignominious contempt, beſeig'd in their Houſes, and founde no Sanctuarie in their Offices: but were almoſt fain to beg a life of them, who (irrationably) under vale wed it in themſelves. Theſe outrages were moſt commonly committed by the baſeſt me chanicall ſont: who ſtilde themſelves Apprentices to attract more company. When they were once ſallied forth; they needed no encouragement to Action, for a raſh ſelfe will did make them blind to all impediments. Unleſſe thou wilt ſuppoſe a couple ſcaling up a Wall, whilſt another, that ſtands cloſe beneath them (perceaving they have got the generall applauſe, and himſelfe to be idle, becauſe no Brick-layer) ſerves them with this flattering encouragement, Well done Iack, well done Dick: by'th Maſſe, you are no Cowards: you care not two Strawes for King, nor Kings Mate.

Now ſome diſcontented Foreigners gave out, theſe Mutinies did continually revive, by the wilfull permiſſion of our City-Senators: whoſe actions reliſh much of Popular inclination. For Authoritie, or Wealth (being but fortunatly atchieved) cannot alter the conſtitution of the Blood. Yet howſoever my cenſure is more charitable: nor can any man ſuppoſe them faulty, but in a fearſull connivencie at the execution of ſtrict Statutes. Conſidering (likewiſe) they muſt neceſſarily have compell'd them, to be under the diſpoſure of the Law, before effectuall ſentence could paſſe upon them. And is there any thing more dangerous then to encounter with armed-Rebellion? eſpecially where the Adverſarie is animated with the hope of ineſtimable Pillage? no ſurely. But me thinkes I heare it alledg'd, how divers were caught, yet went unpuniſhed: to which I am loſt in a reply. For though exemplarie-puniſhment hath ſomewhat in it that is unjuſt, and in particular to the prejudice of ſome: yet t'is recompenced by the generall good of the whole. To deliver a Character of this monſter multitude, were but obſcurely to repreſent unto thy view, what themſelves (unwilling to hide their own defect) doe manifeſtly diſcover. Notwithſtanding, ſomething we will ſay of them.

They are parlous in their owne vocations: and proud of that ſkill which is gotten meerely by uſe, laughing at other Men with a kind of pittyfull-diſreſpect; becauſe they are not cunning in a Facultie, which is (indeed) below the deſire of knowledge. They account the Nobilitie, and Gentry, but as ſuperficiall Creatures: Men that cannot by managing a Saw or Mattock repleniſh a Double-Jugg. No nor maintaine life by ſlight of hand. They hold Schollers to be (as it were) Bl'oxford Men: unneceſſary-Gutts, that ſtudy only to grow hungry: and when they are hungry, will devoure a plaguy deale of Meate, or ſo. They runne headlong to a boiſterous Action, as though affray'd leſt Conſideration might overtake them before they have begunne it. But having once begunne, they ſcorne to deſiſt, untill the old ſaying be verified. Every beginning muſt have an ending. They are the Children of Report, compoſ'd of newes: and fed with the noyce of alteration. Ten yeares Peace doth make Coyne inviſible amongſt them, ſo that they forget the faſhion of a Shilling. Ten yeares Warrs makes them call Gold, Durt, and give it the defiance. But now their Swords have binne long ruſty, for want of Spaniſh-Throates to ſcowre them. They ſeeme moſt learned in Viſiognimie, and make of their Confidence a Perſpective, through which they can beholde a great Mans Heart, ſcituated in his Face: nay though he be a Coward, and have none at all. When they are ſick, they eſteeme the World to be a Buble, a tranſitorie thing, and all men mortall. They dye of the ſame Religion that the King profeſſes:

LOndon was at that time poſſeſt with more ſeverall Humors, than Action could invent ways to expreſſe them in. High affaires ſeemed to ſucceed diverſly in effect: as though manadg'd by ſundry inclinations. And opulent Cittyzens drew much complementall obſervance from the Nobilitie. I held always an envious Antipathy with the Sonnes of Fortune: therefore in that Booke accuſed them of divers enormities: which if I ſhould here re-iterate I might be thought ſatyricall. Although my entent (by this Booke) is to deſtroy that Humor in others. Wherefore thou ſhalt only participate of this my Deſcription. They are exceeding covetous; and the Sinne is in them ſo naturall, ſo doatingly affected, that they neglect all modeſt forme to hide it from a publique obſervation: excuſing it to their Conſciences with a fearfull probabilitie of Warr. They never feele eaſe, but in Labour and trouble. Thoſe that are rich ſtrive to Gentilize their Female Of-ſpring: but evermore pay for that ambition. As Wealth exalts them into Office, ſo they diſcharge it with their Purſes, not with their Braines. Authoritie (though in a low degree) heaves their Heartes into their Mouthes: for they will vent their Thoughts, as if their Lips were opened by a Priveledge: peruſing the actions of the King with a ſawcy-comment, and diſcover a great deſire to mould his Affection in their owne diſpoſure: though (indeed) they weigh worth, like Gold, in a payer of Scales: where the lighteſt peece aſcends, but the heavieſt (which is the beſt) remaines below. The politique reaſon why they love Peace, is, becauſe they hate to buy a Warr. They deſpiſe Warr becauſe t'is good ſleeping in a whole Skinne. Beſides they are not valiant, even to the Fourth degree of Compariſon, (that is desperate); for they weare their Hearts in their Purſſes, like Cowards, who going to fight, carrie their Ranſoms in their Pockets. They alwayes profeſſe themſelves poore, becauſe t'is a chargeable-glory to be rich in the Kings Bookes. Their Religion is weake in effect, and ſtrong in forme: depending much on Cuſtome, more on Superſtition, and moſt of all on Zeale. But t'is a politique Zeale: ſuch as preſerves Government more then Religion. Or rather an exemplarie Zeale; that doth beget, and warme Faith in others, but heates not their owne Soules. Now though our opinion is more logically maintain'd; in that we do not argue from particulars, but make a generall accuſation: yet know (Reader) there have binne many Cittizens, whoſe Virtue lends ſome luſture to their poſteritie. Notwithſtanding I averr the Virtue of a good Cittizen, differeth very much from the Virtue of a good Man. For the one uſeth all virtues agreeable with a pure godly life: the other obſerves only the Lawes, which were made to preſerve civill commoditie.

But t'is time now that I returne unto my ſelfe. One Morning (lying in the Bed) I fell deeply to conſider, how I migh accrue profit by the diſburſment of my Ffty Poundes. At laſt (according to my old Cuſtome) I built another Caſtle in the Aire: laying the Foundation on my Face, and proper Perſon. But the ſubſtance of it, was to furniſh my ſelf with rich Apparell: and afterwards aſſault the diſpoſition of ſome Wealthy Lady. For my Man Bung had often told me, that divers Gentlemen (whom he knew) were bravely maintained by their Miſtreſſes. O ſuch fruitfull Land did I deſire to till! which makes Labour a delightfull ſport, and requites eaſe with Gold. As for Divinity, I would not think on it, leſt it ſhould make me melancholy. Beſides (like a damn'd Rogue) I held Whoredome to be the holieſt Sinne that is: becauſe Repentance ceaſeth on the Heart, preſently after it is committed.

Now, art thou ſtrangely deſirous to know the manner of my proceedings? to underſtand in what kind I did ſhape this purpoſed adventure? I'le tell thee: but firſt prepare to admire my Capacity, for thy knowledge never owned ſuch a parlous Plot before. Which was, that I ſhould go to ſee a Play in Black-Fryars: and there (by all neceſſary conſequences, or rather inſpired aſſurance) ſome rich Lady would caſt her Eie on me, and the ſame night me on her. Be not thou aſtoniſh'd Reader, neither ſuppoſe it impoſſible that Nature can be ſo opulent, or he that is mortall, poſſeſſe ſuch a ſtrong Brain. For (alaſs Man!) heretofore I was as full of theſe learned-Stratagems, as an Egge is full of meat.

Fifty Pounds accoutred me from Top to Toe: having been very thrifty in laying out my Money, and carefull to refuſe Bunges advice, for he brought me a Taylor, whom Cuſtome had made to ſteale from himſelf. A Slave that the Devill durſt not truſt with his old Clothes; no, though he might gaine his Soul in lue of the Theft.

Thus like a true Engliſh-man (who wears his Mother too much in his Apparell) I enter'd the Theater, and ſat upon the Stage: making low Congies to divers Gentlemen; not that I knew them, but I was confident, they would requite me in the ſame kinde: which made the Spectators ſuppoſe us of very olde, and familiar acquaintance. Beſides (that I might appear no Novice) I obſerv'd all faſhionable Cuſtomes; As delivering my Sute to a more apparant view, by hanging the Cloak upon one Shoulder: or leting it fall (as it were) by chance. I ſtood up alſo at the end of every Act, to ſalute thoſe, whom I never ſaw before. Two Acts were finiſhed before I could diſcover any thing, either for my Comfort then, or worth my relation now. Unleſſe it were punycall abſurdity in a Country-Gentleman: who was ſo caught with the naturall action of a Youth (that repreſented a raviſh'd Lady) as he ſwore alowd, he would not ſleep untill he had killed her raviſher: and how 'twas not fit ſuch Rogues ſhould live in a Commonwealth. This made me laugh, but not merry.

Anon after, I ſpied a Gentlewomans Eie, fix'd full upon me. Hope and Deſpaire threw me into ſuch Diſtractions, that I was about to bid a Boy (who perſonated Cupid in the Play) to ſhoot at her with his counterfeit Arrow. But ſhe preſently diſclaimed me her Object: and with the like inconſtancy gaz'd upon another. About the beginning of the Fourth Act, my Face withſtood a freſh encounter, given me by a Ladies Eie, whoſe Seate oppoſed mine. She look'd ſtedfaſt on me, till the Play ended; ſeeming to ſurvey my Limbs with amorous curioſity: whilſt I advanced them all, to encounter her approbation. A great deſire I had to ſee her Face: which ſhe diſcovered, by unmaſquing it to take her leave of a Gentleman. But if ever I beheld one ſo illfavour'd? do thou abhorre my Book. She look'd like December, in the midſt of April, old and crabbed in her Youth. Her Noſe ſtood towards the South-Eaſt point: and Snot had fretted a prepoſtrous Channell in the moſt remote corner of her Lip. Sure ſhe was chaſt, chaſt becauſe deformed: and her deformitic (repugnant to the common courſe of Nature) might beget that Chaſtitie: but in whom? in others, not in her ſelf; unleſſe Neceſſitie did force it. For no doubt ſhe would be as leacherous as the Mountaine-Goate, had not Natures qualmiſhneſſe proved a ſtrong contradiction to her deſire: who heaved the Gorge, at her imperfect perfecting: therefore had no Stomach to make a Man fitting her embracements. Yet ſhe wore Jewells, for the which I could willingly have kiſs'd her in the dark. And perhaps too (by guilded provocation) ſupplied the Office of a Husband.

Her uglineſſe made me ſuppoſe that nothing could be too baſe for her acceptance: therefore I (following her down the Staires) reſolved to diſcover a good-will to her, either by a wanton geſture of my Body, or whiſpering in her Ear juſt as ſhe came forth into the Street, (her Uſher being ſtep'd aſide to complement with parting Company) I proffer'd my ſervice to attend her home, if ſhe miſſed any of her Friends. She ſuſpecting that I thought her to be a Whore, told me aloud I was much miſtaken. Her Brother (unknown to me) ſtood behind us, and asked her; what the matter was? M'arry, (quoth ſhe) this Gentleman takes me for ſome common Creature. He with all violent dexterity ſtrucke me on the Face; and afterwards went about to draw his Sword. But I ſlunk through the preſſe of people, and very tamely conveied my ſelfe home. My Man Bunge (who attended there all the Play-time, to ſave charges) ſaw this: and heard the Young-Gallant ſwear (after I was gone) if ever he met me, he would make my Heart the Scabbard of his Sword. Theſe woful tydings hee brought to my Chamber, ſo that my coſtly Experiment was now concluded, and my glorious Garments altogether uſeleſſe. For I durſt not viſit Theaters any more, leſt I ſhould meete with him, or Women elſewhere, as fearfull of the like entertainment.

Coſtly experiments, and Bunges attendance had ſo impoveriſhed my Purſe, that I wanted to ſupply my Stomack. I did owe my Hoſteſſe alſo for a Months diet; which fayling to pay (according to my promiſe) and ſhe perceaving I had few viſits from City Friends, urg'd her to ſay one Morning, ſhe would truſt me no longer So that my laſt refuge conſiſted in pawing my Clothes, which my Childiſh diſpoſition (never made impudent by want) durſt not attempt. Halfe an Houre before Dinner, and Supper, I ſent Bunge upon ſome frivolous errant: in the meane time ſlunke forth, walk'd out a Meale, and returned picking my Teeth, hoping to invent a ſhift leſſe diſgracefull. But two dayes faſting, and his grim looks at home, made me weary of ſuch modeſty: ſo that at Night (when there was nobody within but a little Boy) I ran to Charter Houſelane: where I walk'd to and fro, by a Broakers Shope, halfe an Houre, before Cowardly reputation would ſuffer me to enter. At laſt in I went: and deſired the the Broaker, his Man might goe home with me to fetch Two Sutes of Apparell. He granted my requeſt, and the things being packed up before, we ſoone returnd, but could not borrow above Eighteene poundes, upon that which coſt me Fifty: whereof Twelve Shillings they took back for regiſtring.

Thus my Heart being ſomewhat lightned by the weight of my Purſe, I went to a Taverne that was neere my Lodging, and ſent a Drawer home to attend Bung's arrivall, that he might fetch him, purpoſing now to diſmiſſe his ſervice, accompany the next Wind to Gellderland, and there ſerve in Garriſon. I ſatisfied my Hunger, with Cerberus his Diet (Sopps) which being made of rich Sack halfe fox'd me before he came. So ſoone as he had enter'd the Roome he ſwore himſelfe out of breath. I demanded the cauſe, Why Sir (quoth he) is the Ayre food for Men? or did you ſuppoſe me a Chamelion? I excuſ'd all by urging his owne Language, for he told me once: it was the faſhion for Servingmen to diſburſe Money for their diet, and require it when their Maſters Exechequer was able to repay. So having commanded a Gallon of Wine, and the Drawers abſence, I bad him ſit, drink, and expect alteration. By that time I had ſhar'd halfe the Wine, a ſtrange humor poſſeſt my Brain, and begot rare imaginations! ſuch as fool'd Don-Quixot, uttering in a lamentable veine this high and mighty ſenſe.

O Bunge! my Breſt hath entertain'd new Tennants ſince firſt I own'd thy ſervice, Thoughts of too tall a ſtature, ſuch as ſcorn'd thoſe humble Roofs, which the plaine Country held as gawdy faſhion, therefore went from me to change their Manſions: but returne maimed, able in nothing, unleſſe to affirme the Proverb; Pride will have a fall. Know Oliver! I am made an experiment by cruell Fate, to trie within a Haires breadth the ſufferance of a Man, croſſ'd in all deſigns with ſtrange prevention. Thou art of diſpoſition quick, and ſubtill, and haſt diſcern'd the World with a diſcreet Eie. Thy Experience is of a full Age, and muſt be now thy Maſter, thou no more my Servant. This health to thy good Fortunes—There's thy Wages; due ſince the laſt Quarter: which with ſome advice (ſent from my love) is all I can beſtow.

When thou thinkſt upon thy poore fortunes, compare them with a meaner Mans: for ſo thou mayſt leſſen in thy ſelfe the greatneſſe of an other, and by that aggravate thine own. The Plebeian whoſe naturall Spirit is humbled with a coorſe Prentiſhip, ſtrives for a mayſtery though it be only of his Trade. Doe not enrich thy ſelfe with a bawdy-induſtry, nor occaſion thy Maſters folly by thy apt preſentment of it. Sooth him not in's drinke; nor by admiring his unconquer'd lookes, tell him t'is a handſome Vice. Strive to make him more acquainted with thy privacy, then thy ſelfe with his ſecrets. Be not impudent in jeaſting, for that cheats thy Wit of her reward not procuring laughter, but deriſion: though the firſt be the true applauſe. Be not proude, for Time doth infect the owner of that Sinne with ſuch an ignorance, that he ſhall ſcarce know himſelfe. The gawdy Servant beggers his Purſe, to make his Maſters rich: for Faſhion, and comely thrift, bids a plain Cloake uſher a golden Livory. Buy not the envy of thy Fellowes, with his favour: nor loſe it by preſuming on't. Let not the poore Tennant obſerve thee as his Landlords Heir; whilſt thou with a ſawcy diſtance of lame ſtate, ſtrengthneſt his credulitie. Be honeſt in all things, for ſo thou mayſt live, to beſtow this counſell on a Servant of thy owne, and end thy dayes in peace. When thou ſhalt chance to talke of me hereafter, cleanſe my Fame with hiding thoſe defects, that ſhew me humane, and my Fortune blind. Goe, be happy.

All this while he was a greedy Auditor, but perceaving me about to take my ultimum vale, ſteps up and replies thus. Sir, we are ſo tender of our outward credit, that Neceſſitie is never diſcover'd, untill it diſcovers it ſelfe, I meane thorough the Ellbowes: but yours is not ſo little as to eſcape my ſight, I underſtood the cauſe why you imploy'd me about impertinent errants: though you expreſt ſmall charitie, and leſſe Phyſick, to preſcribe walking for an empty Stomack, when no ſatisfaction in meate, wellcom'd my returne. Neither was my fearfull Experience (feeling even now the lightneſſe of your Trunke) ignorant how, and where it had forſooke its weight. The tract and courſe of povertie I have often traced, and know ſhe is moſt undone in her reliefe. A pox upon your grave counſell! which is fram'd as though proceeding from a beggerly Patriarke. No advice is worthy of acceptance, but what accompanies a liberall Hand: t'is Money that makes a man able to keepe it. You direct me how to behave my ſelfe in ſervice, when I have no Maſter: an enterpriſe weake and Childiſh; juſt like your actions, ſince you became a Londoner: which if preſented to the World in Hiſtory, would beget more laughter then eſteem. Come if you will ſeaze on my advice, add unto your Money Fifty Pounds: furniſh me for a journey to the Court: where, by Wit, I will get relation to ſome Man of Ranke: grow a prompt intelligencer; and make you a Satyriſt. Such a one as Kings with flatterie ſhall be glad to ſilence. A plague on all beggarly occupations! I affect them not.

Now Reader, judge thou whether this Rogue was not able to ſeduce a Novice. I could ſooner eate Iron then part with him: but the next Morning, we ſat in conſultation how to get this Money. At laſt it was reſolv'd I ſhould counterfeit my ſelfe to be lately Knighted, and he ride with me to my Patrons Heir: adding on all occaſions Sir, unto my Chriſtian-name. But ſtay awhile, and let thy memory returne, unto the laſt part of our Fourth Chapter: where I threatned to make my acquaintance coſtly unto a Clothier; that overtook me on the high-way. He often viſited my Lodging, and now I requited him by borrowing his Gelding (worth Fourteene poundes) to take the ayre as far as Fullham but indeed detaind him a longer Iourney, and bought a Nagg for my Man Bunge. I riding like a Knight-errant.

But how my Patron's Heir entertain'd me, when I return'd, and all the reſt of my occurences, I am reſolv'd to publiſh with great care, and induſtry. Which if you ever meane to ſee, invoke the powers above, that what's already written may take him, whoſe acceptance makes my labor, eaſe: whoſe command (by I wot not what inſtinct) ties my Soule to a more delightfull ſervice, then either Gaine, or popular applauſe.