ARISTIPPUS, OR THE JOVIAL PHILOSOPHER: Presented in a private Show. To which is added, THE CONCEITED pedlar. Omnis Aristippum decuit colour & status & res. Semel insanivimus. LONDON. Printed for ROBERT ALLOT, MDCXXX. THE PRAELUDIUM. Shows having been long intermitted, and forbidden by authority for their abuses, could not be raised but by conjuring. Enter Prologue in a Circle. BE not deceived, I have no bended knees, No supple tongue, nor speeches steeped in Oil, No candied flattery, nor honeyed words. I come an armed Prologue: armed with Arts, Who by my sacred charms and mystic skill, By virtue of this all-commanding Wand Stolen from the sleepy Mercury, will raise From black Abyss and sooty hell, that mirth Which fits this learned round. Thou long-dead Show, Break from thy Marble prison, sleep no more In miry darkness, henceforth I forbid thee To bathe in Lethe's muddy waves, ascend As bright as morning from her Tithonus' bed, And red with kisses that have stained thy cheek, Grow fresh again: What? is my power contemned? Dost thou not hear my call, whose power extends To blast the bosom of our mother Earth? To remove heavens whole frame from off her hinges, As to reverse all Nature's laws? Ascend, Or I will call a band of Furies forth, And all the Torments wit of hell can frame Shall force thee up. Enter Show whipped by two Furies. Show. O spare your too officious whips a while, Give some small respite to my panting limbs, Let me have leave to speak, and truce to parley, Whose powerful voice hath forced me to salute This hated air! are not my pains sufficient, But you must torture me with the sad remembrance Of my deserts, the Causes of my exile? Prologue. 'Tis thy release I seek, I come to file Those heavy shackles from thy wearied limbs, And give thee leave to walk the Stage again, As free as virtue: Burn thy withered bays, And with fresh Laurel crown thy sacred Temples, Cast off thy mask of darkness, and appear As glorious as thy sister Comedy. But first with tears, wash off that guilty sin, Purge out those ill-digested dregs of wit, That use their ink to blot a spotless fame, Let's have no one particular man traduced, But like a Noble Eagle seize on vice, As she flies bold and open! spare the persons: Let us have simple mirth, and innocent laughter; Sweet-smiling lips, and such as hide no fangs, No venomous biting teeth, or forked tongues, Then shall thy freedom be restored again, And full applause be wages of thy pain. Show. Then from the depth of truth I here protest, I do disclaim all petulant hate and malice, I will not touch such men as I know vicious, Much less the good: I will not dare to say That such a one paid for his fellowship, And had no learning but in's purse; no Officer Need fear the sting of my detraction, I'll give all leave to fill their guts in quiet: I make no dangerous Almanacs, no gulls, No posts with envious News and biting Packets, You need not fear this Show, you that are bad, It is no Parliament: you that nothing have Like Scholars, but a Beard and Gown, for me May pass for good grand Sophies: all my skill Shall beg but honest laughter and such smiles As might become a Cato: I shall give No cause to grieve, that once more yet I live. Prologue. Go then, and you Beadles of hell avaunt, Return to your eternal plagues. Exeunt Furies. Prologue. Here, take these purer robes, and clad in these, Be thou all glorious and instruct thy mirth With thy sweet temper, whilst myself entreat Thy friends that long lamented thy sad fates, To sit and taste, and to accept thy Cates. Exit Show. Prologue. Sit, see, and hear, and censure he that will, I come to have my mirth approved, not skill: Your laughter all I beg, and where you see No jest worth laughing at, faith laugh at me. ARISTIPPUS. Enter Simplicius. SEcundum gradum compossibilitatis, & non secundum gradum incompossibilitatis. What should this Scotus mean by his possibilities & incompossibilities? my Cooper, Rider, Thomas, and Minshew are as far to seek as myself: not a word of compossibilitas or incompossibilitas is there. Well, I know what I'll do. I have heard of a great Philosopher: I'll try what he can do; They call him Aristippus, Aristippus, Aristippus: sure a philosopher's name. But they say he lies at the Dolphin, and that methinks is an ill sign: yet they say too, the best Philosophers of the town never lie from thence: they say 'tis a Tavern too; for my part I cannot tell, I know no part of the Town but the Schools and Aristotle's Well: but since I am come thus far, I will inquire: for this same compossibilitas and incompossibilitas sticks in my stomach. Knocks. Boy within. Anon, Anon Sir. Sim. What Philosophy is this? Knocks. Boy. Anon, Anon Sir. Enters. Boy. Please you see a Room Sir? what would you have Sir? Sim. Nothing but Aristippus. Boy. You shall Sir. Exit. Simp. What is this? the Dolphin? now verily it looks like a Green Fish: what's yonder Greek too? Now surely it is the philosopher's Motto: Hippathi-happathi; aut disce, aut discede incontinenter, a very good disjunction. Boy. A pint of Aristippus to the Bar. Enters. Boy. Here Sir. Sim. Ha? what's this? Boy. Did you not ask for Aristippus Sir? Sim. The great Philosopher lately come hither. Boy. Why, this is Aristippus. Sim. Verily then Aristippus is duplex, Nominalis & Realis; or else the Philosopher lives like Diogenes in dolio: the President of Hogshead College: but I mean one Aristippus {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} the great Philosopher. Boy. I know not what you mean by losopjer, but here be Scholars in the house, I'll send them to you: Anon, anon Sir, I cannot be here and there too. Anon, anon Sir. Simp. This boy would have put a fallacy upon me, in Interrogatione plurium. This boy is a mere Animal; ha, ha, he. He has not a jot of Language in him more than Anon, anon, Sir. O Giggleswicke, thou happy place of education! This poor wretch knows not what a Philosopher means. To see the simpleness of these people; They do ever thing {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, and have not a jot, not an inch of {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} in them. O what had become of me, if I had not gone barefoot to my Praeceptor, with a Satchel at my back? Enter two Scholars. Slaves are they that heap up mountains, Still desiring more and more, Still let's carouse in Bacchus' fountains, Never dreaming to be poor, Give us then a Cup of liquour, Fill it up unto the brim, For then methinks my wits grow quicker, When my brains in liquour swim. Ha brave Arstippus. Pox of Aristotle and Plato, and a company of dry Rascals: But heigh brave Aristippus. Sim. Certainly, there are Aristippus his Scholars: Sir, pray can you resolve me what is Gradus compossibilitatis? 1 Schol. What ails thou, thou musing man? Diddle diddle do. 2 Schol. Quench thy sorrows in a Can, Diddle diddle do. Compossibilitas? Why, that's nothing man, when you ne'er drink beyond your poculum necessitatis, you are in gradu incompossibili to all good fellowship: Come, hang Scotus, we'll lead you to Aristippus, one Epitome of his in quarto, is worth a volume of these Dunces. Sim. O Gentlemen, you will bind me to thank you in Poculo Gratiarum. But what Philosophy doth he read, and what hours doth he keep? 1 None at all precisely, but indistinctly all: Night and day he pours forth his instructions, and fills you out of measure. 2 he'll make the eyes of your understanding see double, and teach you to speak fluently, and utter your mind in abundance. Sim. Hath he many Scholars, Sir? 1 More than all the Philosophers in the Town beside. He never rests but is still called for. Aristippus says one, Aristippus says another: He is generally asked for, yea, and by Doctors sometimes. 2 And as merry a man: There can be no Feast, but he is sent for, and all the company are the merrier for him. 3 Did you but once hear him, you would so love his company, you would never after endure to stand alone. Sim. O pray help me to the sight of him. 2 we will, brave boy: and when you have seen him, you'll think yourself in another world, and scorn to be your own man any longer. Sim. But I pray you at what price reads he? 1 Why truly his price hath been raised of late, and his very name makes him the dearer. 2 A diligent Lecturer deserves eight pence a Pint tuition: Nay, if you will learn any thing, Scholarships must be paid for. Academical Simony is lawful: Nay did you ever hear of a good Preacher in a fat Benefice, unless his purse were the leaner for it? Make much of him, for we shall have no more such in haste. Enter Wild-man. Sim. But who is this? 1 The University Ramist, a Malt Heretic; alias the Wild man that is grown mad to see the daily resort to Aristippus: but let us leave him to his frenzy. But come you Lads that love Canary, Let us have a mad fegary: Hither, hither, hither, hither, All good Fellows flock together. Exeunt. Wild-man. Brains, wits, senses, all sly hence: let fools live limed in Cages: I am the Wild-man, and I will be wild: is this an age to be in a man's right wits, when the lawful use of the throat is so much neglected, and strong drink lies sick on his deathbed? 'Tis above the patience of a Malt-horse, to see the contempt of Barley, and not run mad upon't. This is Aristippus, Aristippus, now a Devil or two take his rednosed Philosophy: 'Tis he, my beer, that has vowed thee to the Vinegar-bottle; but I'll be revenged: when next I meet him, I'll twist and twitch his bush-beard from his Tavern face: 'Tis not his hypathie happithi can carry him out. Let him look to be soundlier dashed by me, than ever he was by Drawer for his impudence. I'll teach my Spanish Don a French trick, I'll either plague him with a Pox, or have some Claret whore burn him for an heretic, and make him challenge acquaintance of mulled-sack: If he was not either sent hither from the Britch politic, or be not employed by Spinola to seduce the Kings lawful Subjects from their allegiance to strong Beer, let me hold up my hand at the bar, and be hanged at my Signpost, if he had not a hand in the Powder-treason! Well, I say nothing, but he has blown up good store of men in his days, house and land and all. If they take no order with him here in the University, the poor Country were as good have the man in the Moon for their Pastor, as a Scholar. They are all so infected with Aristippus his Arminianism, they can preach no Doctrine but Sack and red Noses. As for the Wild-man, they have made him horn-mad already. Enter a Fellow crying Wine pots. Heighday, there goes the Hunts-up: this is the Mandrake's voice that undoes me: you may hear him in faith. This is the Devil of his that goes up and down like a roaring-Sheeps-head to gather his Pewter Library. I'll fit him i'faith. Beats him. Now you Calves-skin impudence, I'll thresh your jacket. Beats him out. Enter Aristippus and his two Scholars. Aristip. What a coil's here? what fellow's that? he looks like a mad hogshead of March-beer that had run out, and threatened a deluge: what is he? 1 O 'tis the Wild-man sir! a zealous brother that stands up against the persecution of Barleybroth, and will maintain it a degree above the reputation of Aquavitae. 2 I have heard him swear by his horaoctava, that Sack and Rosa Solis is but Water-gruel to it. Wila. O art thou there, Saint Dunstar? thou hast undone me, thou cursed friar Bacon, thou hellish Merlin: but I'll be revenged upon thee. 'Tis not your Mephostopho is, nor any other spirits of Ruby or Carbuncle, that you can raise, nor your good father in law Doctor Faustus, that conjures so many of us into your wife's Circle, that with all their Magic, he shall secure you from my rage, you have set a Spell for any man's coming into my house now. Arist. Why, none of my credit hath choked up your doors. Wilde-man. But thou hast bewitched my threshold, disturbed my house, and I'll have thee hanged in Gibbets for murdering my Beer: I'll have thee tried by a jury of Tapsters, and hanged in Anon anon Sir, thou dismal and disastrous Conjurer. Arist. Why dost thou call me Conjurer? I send no Fairies to pinch you, or Elves to molest you: has Robin Good fellow troubled you so much of late? I scarce believe it, for I am sure, since Sack and I came to town, your house hath not been so much haunted. Wilde-man. I'll put out thine eyes, Don Canario, I'll scratch thee to atoms, thou Spanish Guzman. Arist. If he and his Beer will not be quiet, draw 'em both out. Wilde-man. Yet I'll be revenged, you rascal, I do not fear the Spanish Inquisition, I'll run to the Council, and betray thy villainy; I'll carry thee bound for a Traitor: but for you Sir, we had taken Cales, and might afterwards have conquered Lisbon, and Seville. You notorious villain, I knew thee for a Rogue at first, thy Ruff looked so like the Moon Crescent in 88. thy very breath is invincible, and stinks of an Armado. Arist. Kick him out of the presence, his company will metamorphose us to balderdash. Wilde-man. Well Diogenes, you were best keep close in your tub, I'll be revenged on you; I'll complain on you for keeping ill hours, I suffer none after eight, by Saint John's, not I. 1 Schol. Well Domine, though the hora octava be not come, yet you may be gone. Kicks him. Exit. Arist. Come Pupil, have you any mind to study my Philosophy? Sim. Yes Mehercule Sir, for I have always accounted Philosophy to be omnibus rebus ordine, natura, Tempore, honore prius; and these Schoolmen have so puzzled me, & my Dictionaries, that I despair of understanding them either in summo gradu, or remisso. I lay sick of an Hacceitas, a fortnight, and could not sleep a wink for't; therefore good Sir teach me us {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, as you can, and pray let it be Conceptis vorbis, and ex mente Philosophi. Arist. I warrant thee a good proficient, but ere you can be admitted to my Lectures, you must be matriculated, and have your name recorded in Alba Academic. Simp. With all my heart Sir, and totaliter, for I have as great a mind as materia prima to be informed with your instructions. Arist. Give him the oath. 1 Schol. Lay your hand on the book. Sim. Will tactus virtualis serve the turn Sir? 2 Schol. No, it must be real quid, & extra intellectum. Sim. Well Sir, I will do it quoad potentiam obedientialem. 1 Schol. First, you must swear to defend the honour of Aristippus, to the disgrace of Brewers, Alewives, & Tapsters, and profess yourself a foe nominales, to Maltmen, Tapsters, and red Lettices. 2 Schol. Kiss the book. He Drinks. 1 Schol. Next, you shall swear to observe the customs and ordinances instituted and ordained by an Act of Parliament in the reign of King Sigebert, for the establishing of good government in the ancient foundation of Miter College. Schol. Kiss the book. Drinks again. Sim. I Sir, Secundum veritatem intrinsecam, & non eqvivoce. 1 Schol. That you keep all acts and meetings, tam privatim, in private houses, quam publicae, in the Dolphin Schools: that you dispute in tenebris, yet be not asleep at reckonings: but always and everywhere show yourself so diligent in drinking, that the Proctor may have no just cause to suspend you for negligence. 2 Schol. Kiss the book. 1 Schol. Lastly, that you never walk into the Town, without your habit of drinking, the fuddling Cap, and casting Hood; especially when there is a Convocation, and of all things take heed of running to the Assizes. Sim. 1. Is this the end, I pray you Sir, is this the Finis? {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} 2 Schol. It is ultimum Sir. Sim. How pray you Sir, intention, or executione? 1 Schol. Executione, that follows the Assizes. Sim. But methinks there is one Scrupulum, it seems to be actus illicitus, that we should drink so much, it being lately forbidden, and therefore Contra formam statuti. 2 Schol. ay but therefore you are sworn to keep customs, Non omnino secundum formam statuti. Arist. What, have you enrolled him in Albo? have you fully admitted him into the society, to be a member of the body Academic? Sim. Yes Sir, I am one of your Pupils now, unitate numerica, we have made an end of it, secundum ultimum Complementum, & actualitatem. Arist. Well then, give the attendance. Most grave audience, considering how they thirst after my Philosophy, I am induced to let you taste the benefit of my knowledge, which cannot but please a judicious palate: for the rest I expel them my Schools, as fitter to hear Thales, and drink Water. Sim. We will attend Sir, and that bibulis auribus, Arist. The many errors that have crept into the science, to distract the curious Reader, are sprung from no other causes, then small Beer, and sober sleeps; whereas were the laudable custom of Sack drinking better studied, we should have fewer Gowns, and more Scholars. 1 Schol. A good note, for we cannot see wood for trees, nor Scholars for Gowns. Arist. Now the whole University is full of your honest Fellows, that breaking loose from a Yorkshire belfry, have walked to Cambridge with Satchels on their shoulders: these you shall have them study hard for four or five years, to return home more fools than they came; the reason whereof, is drinking College taplash, that will let them have no more learning, than they size; nor a drop of wit more than the butler sets on their heads. 2. Schol. 'Twere charity in him to sconce'em soundly, they would have but a poor Quantum else. Arist. Others there be that spend their whole lives in Athens, to die as wise as they were borne; who as they brought no wit into the world, so in honesty they will carry none out on't. 'Tis Beer that drowns the souls in their bodies: Huson's Cakes, & Paix his Ale hath frothed their brains: hence is the whole tribe contemned, every Prentice can jeer at their brave Cassocks, and laugh the Velvet Caps out of countenance. 1. Schol. And would it not anger a man of Art to be the scorn of a what lake you Sir? Arist. 'Tis Beer that makes you so ridiculous in all your behaviour: hence comes the Bridelike simpering at a justice of Peace his Table, and the not eating methodically, when being laughed at, you show your teeth, blush, and excuse it with a Rhetorical hysteron Proteron. Sim. 'Tis very true, I have done the like myself, till I have had a disgrace for my Mittimus. Arist. 'Tis Beer that hath putrified our Horsemanship, for that you cannot ride to Ware, or to Barkway, but your Hackneys sides must witness your journeys. A lawyer's clerk, or an Inns a Court Gentleman that hath been fed with false Latin, and Pudding Pie, contemn you as if you had not learning enough to confute a Noverint universi. Sim. Per prasentes me Simplicium. Arist. If you discourse but a little while with a Courtier, you presently betray your learned Ignorance, answering him he concludes not Syllogistically, and asking him in what Mood and figure he speaks in, as if Learning were not as much out of fashion at Court, as clothes at Cambridge. Nor can you entertain discourse with a Lady, without endangering the half of your Buttons; all these, and a thousand such errors, are the friends of Beer, that nurse of Barbarism, and foe to Philosophy. Simp. Oh I am ravished with this admiral Metaphysical Lecture, if ever I drink Beer again, let me turn civil Lawyer, or be powdered up in one of Luther's barrels, pray lend me the book again, that I may forswear it. Fie upon it, I could love Sir Gyles for presenting those notorious Alewives. Oh, Aristippus, Aristippus, thou art equally divine {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} the only father of Quodlibets, the Prince of Formalities, I ask my Stars whose influence doth govern this orbem sublunarem, that I may live with thee, and die like the royal Duke of Clarence, who was soused up to immortality in a But of malmsey. 2 Schol. You interrupt him Sir, too much in his Lecture, and prevent your ears of their happiness. Sim. Oh heavens, I could hear him, ad aeternitatem, and that tàm à parte ante quàm à parte post. O proceed, proceed, thy instructions are mere. orthodoxal, thy Philosophy canonical, I will study thy scientiam both speculativam & practicam. Pray let me once more forswear the pollution of Beer, for it is an abominable heretic, I'll be his perfect enemy, till I make him and bottle-Ale fly the Country. Aristip. But Sack is the life, soul, and spirits of a man, the fire which Prometheus stole, not from jove's Kitchen, but his wine-cellar, to increase the native heat and radical moisture, without which, we are but drowsy dust, or dead clay: this is Nectar, the very Nepenthe the gods were drunk with, 'tis this that gave Ganymede, beauty, Hebe youth, to jove his heaven and eternity; do you think Aristotle drank Perry, or Plato cider? do you think Alexander had ever conquered the world, if he had been sober? he knew the force & valour of Sack, that it was the best armour, the best encouragement, and that none could be a good Commander, that was not double drunk, with Wine and Ambition. 1 Schol. Only here's the difference: Ambition makes them rise, and Wine makes them fall. Aristip. Therefore the Garrisons are all drinking Schools, the Soldiers trained up to the mustering of pewter pots daily, learning to contemn death, by accustoming to be dead-drunk: scars do not so well become a Captain, as Carbuncles. A red nose is the grace of a Sergeant Maior, and they unworthy the place of Ancients that have not good colours, the best shot to be discharged is the Tavern bill, the best Alarum is the sounding of healths, and the most absolute March is reeling. 2 Schol. And the best Artillery yard is the Dolphin. Aristip. Thus you may easily perceive the profit of Sack in military discipline, for that it may justly seem to have taken the name of Sack from sacking of Cities. Simp. Oh wonderful, wonderful Philosophy If I be a coward any longer, let me swear a little to drink Sack, for I will be as valiant as any of the Knights Errant: I perceive it was only culpa ignorantiae, not pravae dispositionis that made me a coward: but O Enthusiastic, rare, Angelical Philosophy, I will be a Soldier, a Scholar, and every thing, I will hereafter nec peccare in materid, nec informed. Beer, rascally Beer was the first parent of Sophisters, and the fallacies: But proceed, my Pythagoras, my ipse dixit of Philosophy. Arist. Next, it is the only elixir of Philosophy, the very philosopher's stone, able, if studied by a young Heir, mutare rerum specus, to change his House, Lands, Livings, Tenements, and Liveries into aurum potabile: So that though his Lordships be the fewer for't, his manners shall be the more; whose Lands being dissolved into Sack, must needs make his soul more capable of divine meditation, he being almost in the state of separation, by being purged, and freed from so much earth. 2 Schol. Therefore why should a man trouble himself with so much earth? he is the best Philosopher, that can omnia sua secum portare. Aristip. And since it is the nature of light things to ascend, what better way, or more agreeing to nature can be invented, whereby we might ascend to the height of knowledge, than a light head? A light head being as it were allied with heaven, first found out, that the motion of the orbs was circular like to its own, which motions, testae Aristotele, first found that intelligence: so that I conclude all intelligence, intellect, and understanding to be the invention of Sack, and a light head; what mists of error had clouded Philosophy, till the never sufficiently praised Copernicus found out that the earth was moved, which he could never have done, had he not been instructed by Sack, and a light head? Simp. Hang me then when I turn grave. Aristip. This is the Philosophy, the great Stagirite read to his Pupil, Alexander, wherein how great a proficient he was, I call the faith of History to witness. Simp. 'Tis true, per sidem Historicam, for I have read how when he had vanquished the whole world in drink, that he wept there was no more to conquer. Aristip. Now, to make our demonstration to prove, no wine, no Philosophy, is that admirable Axiom, in vino veritas, and you know that Sack and truth are the only butts which Philosophy aims at. 1 Schol. And the Hogshead is that puteus Democriti, from whence they might both be drawn. Aristip. Sack, claret, Malmsey, White-wine and hippocras are your five Predicables, and Tobacco your individuum, your Money is your substance, full cups your quantity, good wine your quality, your Relation is in good company, your action is beating, which produceth another predicament in the Drawers, called passion, your quando is midnight, your vbi the Dolphin, your situs leaning, your habitus carousing, afterclaps are your post predicaments, your priorums breaking of jests, your posteriorums of glasses, false bills are your fallacies, the shot is subtly obiectio, and the discharging of it is, verasolutio, several humours are your moods, and figures, where quarta figura, or gallons must not be neglected, your drinking is Syllogisms, where a pottle is the maior terminus, and a pint the minor, a quart the medium, beginning of healths are the premises, and pledging the conclusion, for it must not be divided, Topics or common places are the Taverns, and Hamon, Wolf, and Farlowes are the three best Tutors in Universities. Simp. And if I be not entered, and have my name admitted into some of their books, let forma misti be beaten out of me. Aristip. To persuade the Vintner to trust you, is good Rhetoric, and the best figure is Synecdoche to pay part for the whole, to drink above measure, is a Science beyond Geometry, falling backward is stargazing, and no Jacob's Staff comparable to a Tobacco pipe, the sweet harmony of good-fellowship, with now and then a discord, is your excellent music, Sack itself is your Grammar, sobriety a mere solecism, and Latin be it true, or be it false, a very cudgel to your Priscianus pates, the reckoning is Arithmetic enough, a receipt of full cups are the best physic to procure vomit, and forgetting of debts an art of memory; and here you have an Encyclopedia of Sciences, whose method being circular, can never be so well learned, as when your head runs round. Simp. If mine have any other motion, it shall be prater naturam, ay, and contra too, if I live: I like that art of music wondrous well, life is not life without it; for what is life but an harmonious lesson, played by the soul upon the Organs of the body. O witty sentence! I am mad already, I see the immortality, ha brave Aristippus: but in Poetry, 'tis the sole predominant quality, the sap and juice of a verse, yea, the spring of the Muses is the fountain of Sack, for to think Helicon a barrel of Beer, is as great a sin, as to call Pegasus a brewer's Horse. Aristip. I know some of these halfpenny Almanac makers do not approve of this philosophy, but give you most abominable counsel in their Beggars Rhymes, which you are bound to believes as faithfully, as their predictions of foul and fair weather, you shall hear some of Erra pater's Poetry. I wish you all carefully, Drink Sack but sparingly, Spend your coin thriftily, Keep your health warily, Take heed of ebriety, Wine is an enemy, Good is sobriety, Fly baths and Venery. For your often potations much crudities cause, by hindering the course of mother Nature's laws, therefore he that desireth to live till October, aught to be drunk in july, but I hold it to be a great deal better that he went to bed sober. And let him alone, thou man in the Moon, yet hadst thou but read a leaf in this admired Author, this aureum flumen, this torrens cloquentiae, thou wouldst have scorned to have been of the water poet's Tribe, or Skelton's family, but thou hast never tasted better Nectar than out of Fennor's Wassail Bowl, which hath so transformed him, that his eyes look like two Tunnels, his nose like a Faucet with the spigot out, and therefore continually dropping: the Almanac-makers, and Physicians are alike grand enemies of Sack, as for Physicians being fools, I cannot blame them if they neglect Wine, and minister simples, but if I meet with you, I'll teach you another receipt. Sim. Why meet him Tutor? you may easily meet him. I know him Sir, & cognition distinctâ & confusâ I warrant you, do you not smell him Tutor? I know who made this Almanac against drinking Sack? ha Stroffe? have I found you Stroffe? you will show yourself, I see, when all is done, to be but a brewer's clerk. Aristip. But far better speaks the divine Ennius against your Ale, and Barleybroth, who knew too full well the virtue of Sack, when Nunquam uisi potus ad arma prosiluit dicenda; his verses are in Latin, but because the audience are Scholars, I have translated them into English, that they may be understood. Here read them. 1 Schol. There is a drink made of the Stygian Lake, Or else of the waters the furies do make, No name there is bad enough by which it to call, But yet as I wist, it is cleped Ale; Men drink it thick, and piss it out thin. Mickle filth by Saint Loy that it leaves within, But I of complexion am wondrous sanguine, And will love by th' Morrow a cup of wine, To live in delight was ever my wonne, For I was Epicurus his own son, That held opinion that plainly delight Was very felicity perfect: A Bowl of wine is wondrous boon cheer To make one blithe, buxom and debonaire, 'Twill give me such valour and so much courage, As cannot be found twixt Hull and Carthage. Aristip. But above the wit of humanity, the divine Virgil hath extolled the Encomium of Sack in these verses. 2 Schol. Fill me a Bowl of Sack with Roses crowned, Filled to the brim, I'll have my temples bound With flowery Chaplets, and this day permit My Genius to be free, and frolic it; Let me drink deep, then fully warmed with wine, Ill 'chant Aeneas praise, that every line Shall prove immortal, till my moistened quill Melt into verse; and Nectar-like distil; I'm sad, or dull, till bowls brim filled infuse New life in me, new spirit in my Muse, But once revived with Sack, pleasing desires In my childhood kindle such Active fires, That my grey hairs seem fled, my wrinkled face, Grown smooth as Hebe's, youth, and beauty's grace, To my shrunk veins, fresh blood and spirits bring, Warm as the Summer, sprightful as the spring, Than all the world is mine: Croesus is poor Compared with me, he is rich that asks no more: And I in Sack have all, which is to me My home, my life, health, wealth, and liberty, Then have I conquered all, I boldly dare My Trophies with the Pelcan youth compare, Him I will equal, as his sword, my pen My conquered world of cares, his world of men, Do not, Atrides, Nestor's ten desire But ten such drinkers as that aged sire, His stream of honeyed words flowed from the Wine, And Sack his Counsel was, as he was thine. whoever purchased a rich Indian mine, But Bacchus first, and next the Spanish wine? Then fill my bowl, that if I die tomorrow, Killing cares today, I have outlived my sorrow. Aristip. Thus resting in the opinion of that admirable Poet, I make this draught of Sack, this Lectures period. Dixi. Simp. Dixi, dost thou say? ay, and I'll warrant thee the best Dixi in Cambridge: who would sit poring on the learned Barbarism of the Schoolmen, that by one of thy Lectures might confute them all, pro & con? I begin to have distinction, & actualiter, & habitualiter, yet a pox to see, I cannot leave them, nec principaliter, nec formaliter; yet I begin to love the Fox better than subtleness. Oh Tutor, Tutor, well might Fox be a College Porter, that he might open the Gates to none but thy Pupils: come fellow Pupils, if I did not love you, I were {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, and an absurdity in the abstract; Let's practise, let's practise, for I'll follow the steps of my Tutor night and day: by this Sack, I shall love this Philosophy: before I heard this Lecture, Banks his Horse was an Aristotle; in comparison of me: I can laugh to think what a foolish Simplicius I was this morning, and how learnedly I shall sleep tonight. 2 Schol. Sleep tonight! why? that's no point of our Philosophy; we must sit up late, and roar till we rattle the Welkin: Sleep! what have we to do with death's Cater-cousin? do you think Nature gave stars to sleep by? have you not day enough to sleep in, but you must sleep in the night too? 'tis an arrant Paradox. Sim. A Paradox? let me be cramped if I sleep then, but what, must we sleep in the day then? Schol. Yes, in the morning. Sim. And why in the morning? 2 Schol. Why, a pox of the morning, what have we to do with the sober time of the day? Sim. 'Tis true, I see, we may learn something of our fellow Pupils, and what must we do now, fellow pupils? What must we do now? 1 Schol. Why? confer our notes. Sim. What is that? 2 Schol. Why? conferring of notes, is drinking off cups, half pots are saying of parts, and the singing of Catches is our repetition. Sim. Fellow Pupil, I'll confer a note with you. 1 Schol. Gramercy brave lad, and it's a good one, an excellent Criticism; I would not have lost it for Eustathius and his Bishopric, it's a general rule, and true without exception. Sim. Fellow Pupil, I'll confer a note with you too. 2 Schol. Faith, let me have it, let's share and share like boon Rascals. Simp. I'll say my part to you both. 2 Schol. By my troth, and you have a good memory, you have conned it quickly Sir. Sim. But what shall we have for repetitions now? 2 Schol. ay, what for repetitions? 1 Schol. Why the Catch against the Schoolmen in praise of our Tutor Aristippus: Can you sing Simplicius? Sim. How begins it pray you? 1 Schol. Aristippus is better. Sim. O God Sir, when I was in the state of ignorance, I conned it without book, thinking it had been a Position. Aristippus is better in every letter, Then Faber the Parisiensis, Than Scotus, Soncinas, and Thomas Aquinas, Or Gregory Gandanensis: Then Cardan and Ramus, then old Paludanus, Albertus and Gabriella, Than Pico Mercatus, or Scaliger Natus, Than Niphus or Zabarella. Hortado, Trombetus, were fools with Toletus, Zanardus, and Will de Hales, With Occham, Janellus, and mad Algazellus, Philoponus and Natalis, The Conciliator, was but a mere prater, And so was Apollinaris: jandunus, Plotinus, the Dunce Eugubinus, With Masius, Savil, and Swarez, Fonseca, Durandus, Becanus, Holandus, Pererius, Auienture: Old Trismigistus, whose volumes have missed us, Ammonius, Bonaventure, Mirandula Comes, with Proclus and Somes, And Guido the Carmelita: The nominal Schools, and the College of fools, No longer is my delight-a: Hang Brirewood and Carter, in Crakenthorp's garter, Let Keckerman too bemoan us, I'll be no more beaten, for greasy lack Seaton, Or cunning of Sandersonus. The censure of Cato's, shall never amate us, Their frosty beards cannot nip us: Your Ale is too muddy, good Sack is our study, Our Tutor is Aristippus. Enter the Wild-man, with two Brewers. Wild-man. There they be, now for the valour of Brewers, knock 'em soundly, the old Rogue, that's he, do you not see him there? soundly, soundly, let him know what Champions good Beer has. They beat out Aristippus and the Schollers. Wild-man solus. Now let them know that Beer is too strong for them, and let me be hanged, if ever I be milder to such Rascals, they shall find these but stale courtesies, He finds Pots. How now? what's here? the learned Library, the Philosophical volumes: these are the books of the black-Art; I hate them worse than Bellarmine, the golden Legend, or the Turkish Alcharon. I wonder what virtue is in this powder-faced Author, that it should make every one fall into love with it so deeply: I'll try if I can find any Philirus, He finds empty Papers. any love-potion in 't: by my Domine not a drop; O stultum ingenium hominum, to delight in such vanities! Sure these are Comments upon Tobacco, dry and juiceless vanities. I'll try again, by my bonafide, but this doth relish some learning, still better, an admirable witty rogue, a very flash. I'll turn another leaf, still better, has he any more Authors like this? what's here, Aristippus? a most incomparable Author, O Bodily, Bodily, thou hast not such a book in all thy Library, here's one line worth the whole Vatican. O Aristippus, would my brains had been broken out when I broached thy hogshead: O cursed Brewers, and most accursed am I, to wrong so learned a Philosopher as Aristippus? what penance is enough to clear me from this impardonable offence? twenty purgations are too little; I'll suck up all my Beer in Toasts to appease him, and afterwards live by my Wife and Hackneys. Oh, that I had never undertook this selling of Beer, I might have kept my house with fellow's Commons, and never have come to this: But now I am a Wild-man, and my house a Bedlam: Aristippus, Aristippus, Aristippus. Enter Medico de Campo. Medico. How now neighbour Wild-man? Wild-man. O Aristippus, Aristippus, what shall I do for thee, Aristippus? Medico. What ecstasy is this? Wilde-man: O Aristippus, Aristippus, what shall I do for thee Aristippus? Medico. Why neighbour Wild-man, disclose your griefs to me, I am a Surgeon, and perchance may cure 'em? Wilde-man. O cry you mercy, you are the welcomest man on earth, Sir Signior Medico de campo, the welcomest man living, the only man I could have wished for, O Aristippus, Aristippus. Medico. Why what's the matter, neighbour? O I hear he has seduced away your Parishioners, is this the cause of your Lamentation? Wilde-man. O no Sir, a learned Philosopher, one that I love with my soul: but in my rage I cannot tell you Sir, 'tis a dismal tale, the sharpest Razor in your shop would turn edge at it. Medico. Never fear it, I have one was sent from a— faith I cannot think on's name, a great Emperor, he that I did the great cure on, you have heard on't I am sure: I fetched his head from China, after it had been there a fortnight buried, and set it on his shoulders again, and made him as lively, as ever I saw him in my life; and yet to see I should not think on's name. O I have it now, Prester john, a pox on't, Prester john, 'twas he, he, i'faith, 'twas Prester john; I might have had his Daughter if I had not been a fool; and have lived like a Prince all the days of my life; nay, and perchance have inherited the Crown after his death; but a pox on't, her lips were too thick for me, and that I should not think on Prester john. Wild man. O Aristippus, Aristippus, pox on your Prester john Sir, will you think on Aristippus? Med. What should I do with him? Wild man. Why? in my rage Sir, I have almost killed him, and now would have you cure him in sober sadness. Medico. Why call him out Sir. Enter Simplicius. Wilde-man. Sir, yonder comes one of his Pupils. Medico. Salve Mr. Simplicius. Simp. Salve me, 'tis but a surgeon's compliment, Signior Medico de Campo; but you are welcome Sir, my Tutor wants help. Are you there you Usquebaugh Rascal, with your Metheglin juice? I'll teach you Sir to break a philosopher's pate; I'll make you leave your distinctions as well as I have done. Wilde-man. O pardon, pardon me, I repent Sir heartily, O Aristippus, Aristippus, I have broken thy head, Aristippus, but I'll give thee a plaster, Aristippus, Aristippus. Medico. I pray Sir bring him out in his Chair, and if the house can furnish you with barber's provision, let all be in readiness. Exit Simplicius. Wilde-man. Pray Sir do you think you can cure him? Medico. Him? why neighbour, do you not remember the Thumb? Wilde-man. What of the Thumb? I have not heard of it as yet Sir. Medico. Why the Thumb, the Thumb, do you not know the cure of the Thumb? Wilde-man. No Sir, but I pray tell the cure of the Thumb, do you still remember't Sir. Medico. Remembered? ay, and perfectly, I have it at my finger's end, and thus it is. Two Gentlemen were fighting, one lost his Thumb, I by chance coming by, took it up, put it in my pocket, some two months after, meeting the Gentleman, I set on his Thumb again; and if he were now in Cambridge, I could have his hand to show for't: why did you ne'er hear of the Thumb Sir? 'tis strange you never heard me speak of the Thumb Sir. Enter three Scholars bringing fourth Aristippus in his Chair. 1 Schol. Signior de Medico Campo, if you have any art or skill, show it now, you never had a more deserving Patient. Medico. Yet I have had many, and royal ones too; I have done Cures beyond Seas, that will not be believed in England. 2 Schol. Very likely so, and Cures in England, that will not be believed beyond seas, nor here neither, for in this kind, half the world are infidels. Medico. The great Turk can witness, I am sure, the eyes that he wears, are of my making. 1 Schol. He was then an eyewitness: but I hope he wears spectacles, Signior. Medico. Why, won't you believe it? why I tell you I am able to say't, I saw't, I saw't myself, I cured the King of Poland of a Wart on's nose, and Bethlem Gaber of a Ringworm. 1 Schol. The one with raw Beef, and the other with Inkhorns. Medico. Pox of your old Wives medicines; the worst of mine Ingredients is an unicorn's Horn, and a bezoar's stone: Raw Beef and Inkhorns! Why, I cured Shirley in the Grand Sophy's Court in Persia, when he had been twice shot through with Ordinance, and had two bullets in each thigh, and so quickly, that he was able at night to lie with his wife the Sophy's niece, and beget a whole Church of Christians; and could this have been done with Raw Beef and Inkhorns? Sim. No sure, this could not have been done without Eggs and Greensauce, or an Oatmeal Poultice at least. Medico. The King of Russia had died of the worms, but for a powder I sent him. 2 Schol. Some of that you mean, that stuck on the bullet which you took out of Shirley's legs. Medico. In the siege of Ostend, I gave the Duchess of Austria a receipt to keep her Smock from being animated, when she had not shifted it of a twelvemonth. 1 Schol. Believe me, and that was a Cure beyond Scoggins Fleas. Medico. I am able by the virtue of one Salve, to heal all the wounds and breaches in Bohemia. 2 Schol. ay, and close up the Bunghole in the great Tub at Heidelberg, I warrant you. Medico. I cured the state of Venice of a Dropsy, the Low-Countries of a Lethargy, and if it had not been treason, I had cured the Fistula, that it should have dropped no more than your nose. By one Dram on a knife's point, I restored Mansfield to his full strength and forces, when he had no men left, but was only skin and bones. I made an Arm for Brunswick, with so great art and skill, as nature herself could not have mended it; which had it not come too late, and after his death, would have done him as much service as that which was shot off. 2 Schol. I easily believe that i'faith. Medico. I could make a Purgation, that should so scour the Seas, that never a Dunkirk durst show his head. 1 Schol. By my faith, and that would be a good State Glister. Medico. I have done as great wonders as these, when I extracted as much chastity from a Sanctimony in the English Nunnery, as cured the Pope of his lechery. 2 Schol. And yet had as much left, as served five Cardinals on fasting-days. Medico. And there was no man in the Realm of France, either French or Spanish or Italian Doctors, but myself, that durst undertake the King of France his Corns, and afterwards having cured him, I drank a health to him. Sim. Would we had the pledging on't. O happy man that hast conferred a note with the King of France! Medico. And do you seem to misdoubt my skill, and speak of my Art with ifs and ands? Do you take me for a Mountebank? and hath mine own tongue been so silent in my praise, that you have not heard of my skill? 2 Schol. No, pardon us Signior, only the danger our Tutor is in, makes us so suspicious; we know your skill Sir, we have heard Spain and your own tongue speak loud on't, we know beside, that you are a Traveller, and therefore give you leave to relate your words with authority. Med. Danger? what danger can there be, when I am his Surgeon? 1 Schol. His head Sir is so wondrously bruised, 'tis almost past cure. Med. Why, what if he had never an head? am not I able to make him one? or if it were beaten to atoms, I could set it together, as perfectly as in the womb. Wild. Believe me neighbour, but that would be as great a wonder, as the Thumb, or Prester John's head. Med. Why? I'll tell you Sir, what I did, a far greater wonder than any of these, I was a Traveller. 2 Schol. There is no such great wonder in that, but what may be believed. Med. And another friend of mine travailed with me, and to be short, I came into the Country of Cannibals, where missing my friend, I ran to seek him, and came at last into a Land where I saw a company feeding on him, they had eaten half of him, I was very pensive at his misfortune, or rather mine; at last I bethought me of a powder that I had about me, I put it into their wine, they had no sooner drank of it, but they presently disgorged their stomachs, and fell asleep; I Sir, gathered up the miserable morsels of my friend, placed them together, and restored him to be a perfect man again; and if he were here still alive, he were able to witness it himself, and do you think I cannot cure a ten-groat's damage, or a cracked Crown. 1 Schol. Good Signior make no such delay, cure him, and have one wonder more to fill up your Legend. Medico. Here hold the Basin, you the Napkins, and you Mr Simplicius the Boxes, how shall we do to lay his feet upon? By my troth Sir, he is wonderfully hurt, his piamater I perceive is clean out of joint; of the 20. bones of the Cranium there is but three only whole, the rest are miserably crushed and broken, and two of his Sutures are clean perished, only the null remains free from violence, the four Tunicates of his eyes are threadbare, the Meninx of his ear is like a cut Drum, and the hammers lost: there is not a Cartilago in his head worth three pence, the top of his nose is dropped away, there is not a Muscle left in the cavities of his Nostrils, his dentes molares are past grinding, his Paslet is lost, and with it his gurgulio, yet if he can swallow, I warrant his drinking safe: help open his mouth. So, so, his throat is sound: he's well I warrant you; now give him a cup of Sack: so let me chafe his Temples, put this powder into another glass of Sack, and my life for his, he is as sound as the best of us all: let down his legs. How do you Sir? Aristip. Why as young as the Morning, all life, and soul, not a dram of body; I am newly come back from hell, and have seen so many of my acquaintance there, that I wonder whose Art hath restored me to life again. 1 Schol. The Catholic Bishop of Barbers, the very Metropolitan of Surgeons, Signior de Medico Campo. 2 Schol. One that hath ingrossed all Arts to himself, as if he had the Monopoly. 1 Schol. The only Hospital of sores. 2 Schol. And Spittle-house of infirmities, Signior de Medico Campo. 1 Schol. One that is able to undo the Company of Barber surgeons, and College of Physicians, by making all diseases fly the Country. 2 Schol. Yea, he is able to give his skill to whom he please, by Act of deed, or bequeath it by Legacy, but he is determined as yet to entail it to his heir's males for ever. 1 Schol. Sir, death itself dares not anger him, for fear he should beggar the Sextons by suffering no grave to be made, he can choose whether any shall die or no. 2 Schol. And he does't with such celerity, that a hundred pieces of Ordinance in a pitched field, could not in a whole day make work enough to employ him an hour; you owe him your life Sir, I'll assure you. Aristip. Sir I do owe you my life, and all that is mine: think of any thing that lieth in the compass of my Philosophy, and 'tis your own. Med. I have gold enough Sir, and Philosophy enough, for my house is paved with philosopher's stones, mine only desire is, that you forgive the rage of this wild-man, who is heartily sorry for his offence to you. Wild. O reverend Philosopher, and Alchemy of understanding, thou very Sack of Sciences, thou noble Spaniard, thou Catholic Monarch of Wines, Archduke of Canary, Emperor of the sacred Sherry, pardon me, pardon my rudeness, and I will forswear that Dutch heresy of English Beer, and the witchcraft of Middleton's water, I'll turn myself into a Gown, and be a professed disciple of Aristippus. Aristip. Give him a Gown then, ere we admit him to our Lecture hereafter. Now noble Signior Medico de Campo, if you will walk in, let's be very jovial and merry, 'tis my second birthday, let's in, and drink a health to the company. We care not for money, riches, or wealth, Old Sack is our money, old Sack is our health, Then let's flock hither Like Birds of a feather, To drink, to fling, To laugh and sing, Conferring our notes together, Conferring our notes together. Come let us laugh, let us drink, let us sing, The winter with us is as good as the Spring, We care not a feather For wind, or for weather, But night and day We sport and play, Conferring our notes together, Conferring our notes together. Simp. Hark, they are drinking your healths, within, and I must have it too, I am only left here to offer my supplicat to you, that my grace may pass, and then if I may but commence in your approbation, I will take a degree in drinking, and because I am turned a jovial mad rascal, I have a great desire to be a Midsummer Bachelor, I was only stayed to ask your leaves to go out. Exit. FINIS. THE pedlar, AS IT WAS PRESENTED IN A STRANGE show. Generous Gentlemen, Such is my affection to Phoebus, and the ninety nine Muses, that for the benefit of this royal University, I have straddled over three of the terrestrial globes with my Geometrical rambling, videlicet, the Asia of the Dolphin, the Afrique of the Rose, the America of the Mitre, besides the terra incognita, of many an Alehouse. And all for your sakes, whom I know to be the divine brats of Helicon, the lawful begotten bastards of the thrice three sisters, the learned, filly-foals to monsieur Pegasus, Arch-hackney to the students of Parnassus: Therefore I charge you by the seven deadly Sciences, which you more study than the three and four liberal sins, that your ha', ha, he's may be recompense of my ridiculous endeavours. I have been long in travel, but if your laughter give my Embryon jests but safe deliverance, I dare maintain it in the throat of Europe, Jeronimo rising from his naked bed, was not so good a Midwife. But I see you have a great desire to know what profession I am of: first, therefore hear what I am not. I am not a Lawyer, for I hope you see no Buckram honesty about me, and I swear by these sweet lips, my breath stinks not of any State actions: I am no soldier, although my heels be better than my hands: by the whips of Mars and Bellona, I could never endure the smell of salt-Peter since the last Gunpowder treason: the voice of a Mandrake to me, is sweeter music than those Maxims of wars, those terrible Cannons; I am no Townsman, unless there be rutting in Cambridge, for you see my head without horns; I am no Alderman, for I speak true English; I am no justice of peace, for I swear by the honesty of a Mittimus, the venerable Bench never kissed my worshipful Buttocks; I am no Alchemist, for though I am poor, I have not broke out my brains against the philosopher's stone; I am no Lord, and yet methinks I should, for I have no Lands; I am no Knight, and yet I have as empty pockets as the proudest of them all; I am no Landlord, but to Tenants at will; I am no Inns of Court Gentleman, for I have not been stewed throughly at the Temple, though I have been half coddled at Cambridge; Now do you expect that I should say I am a Scholar, but I thank my stars, I have more wit than so; why, I am not mad yet? I hope my better Genius will shield me from a threadbare black Cloak, it looks like a piece of Beelzebubs Livery. A Scholar? What? I do not mean my brains should drop through my nose: no; if I was what I wish I could but hope to be; but I am a noble, generous, understanding, royal, magnificent, religious, heroical, and thrice illustrious Pedlar. But what is a Pedlar? why, what's that to you? yet for the satisfaction of him whom I most respect, my right honourable self, I will define him. A Pedlar is an Indiusduum vagum, or the Primum mobile of Tradesmen, a walking Burse, or movable Exchange, a Socratical Citizen of the vast universe, or a peripatetical journeyman, that like another Atlas carries his heavenly shop on's Shoulders. I am a Pedlar, and I sell my ware This brave Saint Barthol. or Sturbridge fair, I'll sell all for laughter, that's all my gains, Such Chapman should be laughed at for their pains. Come buy my wits which I have hither brought, For wit is never good till it be bought; Let me not bear all back, buy some the while, If laughter be too dear, take't for a smile; My trade is jesting now, or quibble speaking, Strange: trade you'll say, for it's set up with breaking; My shop and I, am all at your command, For lawful English laughter paid at hand, Now will I trust no more, it were in vain To break, and make a Craddock of my brain: Half have not paid me yet, first there is one Owes me a quart for his declamation, Another's morning draught, is not yet paid For four Epistles at the election made, Nor dare I cross him who does owe as yet Three eli of jests to line Priorums wit. But here's a Courtier has so long a bill, 'Twill fright him to behold it, yet I will Relate the sums: Item, he owes me first, For an Inprimis: but what grieves me worst, A dainty Epigram on his spaniel's tail Cost me an hour, besides five pots of Ale, Item an Anagram on his mistress name, Item the speech wherewith he courts his Dame, And an old blubbered scowling Elegy Upon his Master's dogs sad exequy, Nor can I yet the time directly gather, When I was paid for an Epitaph on's father, Besides he never yet gave me content For the new coining of's last compliment, Should I speak all? be't spoken to his praise, The total sums is, what he thinks, or says, I will not let you run so much o'th' score, Poor Duck-lane brains, trust me, I'll trust no more, Shall's jest for nought, have you all conscience lost? Or do you think our Sack did nothing cost? Well, than it must be done as I have said, I needs must be with present laughter paid, I am a freeman, for by this sweet rhyme, The fellows know I have secured the time, Yet if you please to grace my poor adventures, I'm bound to you in more than ten Indentures. But a pox on Skelton's fury, I'll open my Shop in honester prose, and first, Gentlemen, I'll show you half a dozen of incomparable points. I would give you the definition of points, but that I think you have them at your fingers ends, yet for your better understanding, A point is nobody, a common term, an extreme friend of a good man's longitude, whose centre and circumference join in one diametrical opposition to your equilateral Doublets, or equicrural Breeches; but to speak to the point, though not to the purpose. 1 The first point is a point of honesty, but is almost worn out, and has never been in request since trunk-hose and Codpiece breeches went out of fashion, it's made of simplicity Ribbon, and tagged with plain dealing; if there be any knaves among you (as I hope you are not all fools,) faith buy this point of honesty, and the best use you can put it to, is to tie the band of affection: but I fear, this point will find no Chapman, some of you had rather sell, than with Demosthenes buy honesty at so dear a rate: oh, I could wish that the Breeches of Bowsers, Stewards; Taxors, Receivers, and Auditors were trussed with these honesty points; but some will not be tied to it, but hist Tom, it is dangerous untrussing the time. 2 The next is a point of Knavery, but I have enough of them already, yet because I am loath to carry mine any longer about me, who gives me most, shall take it, and the devil give him good on't: this point is cut out of villainous Sheepskin parchment in a scrivener's Shop, tagged with the gold of a Ring, which the Pillory robbed him of, when it borrowed his ears; if he do but fasten this to the new Doublet of a young Squire, it will make him grow so corpulent in the middle, that there will be nothing but Waste, this point of Knavery has been a man in his days, and the best of the Parish, fourteen of them go to our Bakers dozen. The definition of him may be this: a point of Knavery, is an occult quality tied on a riding knot, the better to play fast and loose, he was borne in Buckram, h'as run through all offices in the Parish, and now stands to be President of Bridewell, where I leave him, hoping to see him trussed at Tyburn. 3 Amongst all my points, a point of ignorance is the very Alderman of the dozen. This is the richest point in my pack, and is never out of fashion at Inns of Court: if you buy this point, you are arrant fools, for I'll give you this gift, that you shall have it in spite of your teeths. 4 The next is a point of good manners, that has been long lost amongst a crowd of clowns, because it was only in fashion on this side Trent. This point is almost found in our College, and I thank the heavens for't, it begins to be tagged with Latin, it hath been much defiled, but I hope to see it clean washed away with the soap of good government. This point, to give you a little inkling of it; begins from the due observance of a Fresh man to Sophisters, and there it ends with a cede maioribus. 5 Next point is a point of false doctrine, snatched from the codpiece of a long-winded Puritan, the breath of Arminim will rot in him. Tag him with a piece of apocrypha, and he breaks in sunder, truss him to the surplice, and his Breeches will presently fall down with the thought of the whore of Babylon. He hates unity and Church-discipline so far; that you cannot tie a true love's knot on him: cut off his tags, and he will make excellent strings for a Geneva Bible; I would have these points anathematised from all the religious breeches in the company: 'tis made of a dangerous stubborn Leather, tagged at one end with self-conceit, at the other with wilful opinion, this point is fit for no service, but Lucifer's Cacotruces: but why talk I so long of this point, it is pity it is not licenced. 6 If you like my points, why do you not buy? If you would have a more full point, I can furnish you with a Period; I have a Parenthesis (but that may be left out) I know not how you affect those points; but I love them so well, that I grieve at the ignorance of my infancy, when my most audacious Toes durst play at spurn-point. Who will not pity points, when each man sees To begging they are fall'n upon their knees? Though I beg pity, think I do not fear Censuring Critic whelps, no point monsieur: If you hate points, and these like merry speeches, You may want points for to truss up your Breeches. And from the close-stool may he never move, That hating points, doth clasps and keepers love; But if my points have here at all offended, I'll tell you a way how all may be amended: Speak to the point, and that shall answer friend, All is not worth a point, and there's an end. Then the Pedlar brought forth a Looking Glass. The next is a lookingglass, but I'll put it up again; for I dare not be so bold as to show some of you your own faces; yet I will, because it hath strange operations, viz. If a cracked Chambermaid dress herself by this lookingglass, she shall dream the next night of kissing her Lord, or making her mistress a she Cuckold, and shall marry a Chaplin, the next living that falls. If a stale Court Lady look on this Reflection, she may see her old face, through her new Complexion. An Usurer cannot see his conscience in it, nor a Scrivener his ears. If a Townsman peep into it, his Actaeon's furniture is no longer invisible: Corrupt takers of bribes may read the price of their consciences in it. Some fellows cannot see the face of a Scholar in it. If one of our jewel-nosed Carbuncled rubric, bonifaced, can venture the danger of seeing their own faces in it, the poor Basilisks will kill themselves by reflection. If a blind man see his face in this, he shall recover his eyesight. But I see no pleasure in the contemplation of it; for when I look into it, I find myself inclined to such a dangerous disease, that I fear, I cannot live here above four years longer: Howsoever, I hope after my disease, we shall drink the parting-blow. If any this lookingglass disgrace, It is because he dares not see his face: Then what I am, I will not see (faith) say, 'T was the whore's Argument, when she threw't away. Then the Pedlar brought forth a box of Cerebrum. But now considering what a Philosophical vacuum there is in most of our Cambridge Noddles, I have here to sell a sovereign box of Cerebrum, which by Lullius his Alchemy, was extracted from the quintessence of Aristotle's Pericranium, sod in the sinciput of Demosthenes. The fire being blown with the long-winded blast of a Ciceronian sentence, the whole confection boiled from a pottle to a pint, in the Pipkin of Seneca: we owe the first invention of it to Sir john Mandevile, the perfection of it to Tom of Odcombe, who fetched it from the gray-headed Alps in the Hobson's wagon of experience; I swear as Persians use, by this my Coxcomb, this Magazine of immortal roguery: but for this Box of brains, you had not laughed tonight; buy this box of brains, and the tenor of your wits shall be soccage, whenas now it is but fee simple. These brains have very admirable virtues, and very strange operations: four drops of it in the ear of a Lawyer, will make him write true Latin: three grains will fill the Capital of an University Gander; the terrestrial head of a high-Constable, will be contented with half a dram; three scruples and a half will fill the brainpan of a Bambery brother. Come buy my brains, you ignorant gulls, And furnish here your empty skulls: Pay your Laughter as it's fit, To the learned Pedlar of wit. Quickly come, and quickly buy, Or I'll shut my shop, and fools you'll die. If your Coxcombs you would quoddle, Here buy brains to fill your noddle. Who buys my brains, learns quickly here, To make a Problem in a year: Shall understand the predicable, And the predicamental Rabble. Who buys them not, shall die a fool, An exoteric in the School. Who has not these, shall ever pass For a great Acroamatical Ass: Buy then this box of brains, who buys not it, Shall never surfeit on too much wit. Then the Pedlar brought forth a Whetstone. But leaving my brains, I come to a more profitable Commodity: for considering how dull half the wits of the University be, I thought it not the worst traffic to sell Whetstones. This Whetstone will set such an edge upon your inventions, that it will make your rusty iron brains, purer mettle, than your brazen faces. Whet but the knife of your Capacities on this Whetstone, and you may presume to dine at the Muses Ordinary, or sup at the Oracle of Apollo. If this be not true, I swear by the Doxies Petticoats, that I'll never hereafter presume of a better vocation, than to live and die the miserable factor of Connyskins. Then the Pedlar brought out Gloves. I have also Gloves of several qualities: the first is a pair of Gloves made for a Lawyer, made of an entire Loadstone, that has the virtue to draw gold unto it; they were perfumed with the conscience of an Usurer, and will keep scent till wrangling have left Westminster Hall; they are seamed with Indenture, by the needlework of Mortgage, and fringed with a Noverint universi. I would show you more, but it is against the Statute, because a Latitat hath been served lately upon them. And few of you need any Gloves, for you wear Cordovant hands. nightcaps. My next Commodities, are several Nightcaps, but they dare not come abroad by Candlelight. The first is lined with Fox fur, which I hope to sell to some of the Sophisters; it hath an admirable faculty for curing the Crapula, above the virtue of ivy, or bitter Almonds; nay, the porridge pot's not comparable unto it. I have another, fit for an Alderman, which Actaeon by his last Will and Testament bequeathed to the City as a principal Charter, it was of Diana's own making; Albumazer's Otacousticon was but a Chamberpot in comparison. I could fit all heads with Nightcaps, except your grave overwise Metaphysical heads: Marry, they are so transcendent, that they will not be comprehended within the predicant of a Nightcap. Ruffs. I have also several Ruffs; first, a Ruff of pure Holland for a Dutch drunkard, a Ruff of Cobweb-lawn for the University statutes: I have a Ruff for the College too: but by this badge of our College (my reverend Lambskins) our backbiters say, our College Ruffs are quite out of stock; I have no more Ruffs but one, and that is a Ruff of strong hemp, you may have them who will, at the Royal Exchange of Tyburn. As for plain Bands, if you find any in a scrivener's shop, there is good hope honesty will come in fashion again. But you will not bestow your money on such trifles: why? I have greater wares. Will you buy any Parsonages, Vicarages, Deaneries, or Prebendaries? The price of one is his Lordships cracked Chambermaid, the other is the reserving of his worship's tithes; or you may buy the knight's horse three hundred pound too dear, who to make you amends in the bargain, will draw you on fairly to a Vicarage. There be many tricks, but the downright way is three years' purchase. Come bring in your Coin; Livings are Maiori inpretio now, then in the days of Doomsday book, you must give presents for your presentations: there may be several means for your institution, but this is the only way to induction that ever I knew: but I see you are not minded to meddle with any my honest Levitical Farmers. Then the Pedlar took out a Wench made of Alabaster. But now expect the treasures of the World, the treasures of the earth digged from the mines of my more than Indian paunch. Wipe your eyes, that no envious clouds of musty humours may bar your sight of the happiness of so rare an object. Come from thy Palace, beauteous Queen of Greece, Sweet Helen of the world, rise like the morn, Clad in the smock of night, that all the stars May lose their eyes, and then grow blind, Run weeping to the man i'th' Moon, To borrow his dog to lead the spheres a-begging. Rare Empress of our souls, whose Charcoal flames Burn the poor colt's foot of amazed hearts, View this dumb Audience thy beauty spies, And then amazed with grief, laugh out their eyes. here's now a rare beauty, oh, how all your fingers itch, who should be the first Chapman? This will be a dainty friend in a corner. And wert not better to embrace this prerty shambles of beauty, this errant Poultry of perfection, than to tumble your soapy Laundresses? Is this like your daggle-tailed Bed-makers? when a man shall lie with Seacole ashes, and commit adultery with the dust of his chamber? methinks this peerless Paragon of complexion should be better countenanced. She would set a sharper edge on your appetites, than all the threepenny Cutlers in Cambridge. I am a man as you are, and this naughty flesh and blood will never leave tempting: yet I protest by the sweet sole of this incomparable she, I never had any acquaintance with the pretty Libraries of flesh, but only this: This is the subject of my muse; This I adorn with costly Epigrams, and such curious Encomiums, as may deserve immortality in the Chamberpots of Helicon: and thus my Furor Poeticus doth accost her. Fair madam, thee whose every thing deserves the close-stool of a King: whose head is fair as any bone, White and smooth as Pumex stone. Whose natural baldness scorns to wear The needless excrements of bayre. Whose forehead streaks, our hearts commands, Like Dover Cliffs, or goodwin sands. While from those dainty glow-worm eyes, Cupid shoots plumpudding pies, While from the Arches of thy nose, A cream-pot of white Nectar flows: Fair dainty lips, so smooth, so sleek, And truly Alabaster cheek. Pure Saffron teeth, happy the meat That such pretty millstones eat. O let me hear some silent song, Tuned by the Jew's-trump of thy tongue. Oh, how that Chin becomes thee well, Where never hairy beard shall dwell: Thy Coral neck doth statelier bow, Than Io's when she turned a Cow: O let me, or I shall ne'er rest, Suck the black bottles of thy breast: Or lay my head, and rest me still On that dainty Hogmagog hill. Oh curious, and unfathomed waste, As slender as the stateliest Mast: Thy fingers too breed my delight, Each Wart a natural Margarite, Oh pity then my dismal moan, Able to melt thy heart of stone. Thou know'st how I lament and howl, Weep, snort, condole, look sad and scowl. Each night so great, my passions be, I cannot wake for thought of thee. Thy Gown can tell how much I loved, Thy Petticoat to pity moved. Then let thy Pedlar mercy find, To kiss thee once, though it be behind. Sweet kiss, sweet lips, delicious sense, How sweet a Zephyrus blows from thence? Blessed petticoat, more blessed her Smock, That daily busseth her Buttock: For now the Prover be true I find, That the best part is still behind. Sweet dainty soul, deign but to give The poor Pedlar, this hanging Sleeve. And in thine honour, by this kiss, I'll daily wear my Pack in this, And quickly so bear thee more fame, Than Quixot the Knight Errants dame: So farewell sweet, deign but to touch, And once again rebless my Pouch. Is it not pity such ware should not be bought? Well, I perceive the fault is in the emptiness of your learned pockets: well, I'll to the Court, and see what I can sell there, and then carry the Relics to Rome. The Pedlar calls for his coltstaff. Some friend must now perforce, Make haste, and bid my Boy To saddle me my wooden Horse: For I mean to conquer Troy. FINIS.