PART OF LUCIAN MADE ENGLISH FROM THE ORIGINAL.  
In the Year 1638.  
By JASPER maine then Master of Arts, and one of the Students of Christ Church.  
To which are adjoined those other Dialogues of Lucian as they were formerly translated by Mr Francis Hicks.  
OXFORD, Printed by H. Hall. for R. Davis. 1663.   

TO HIS EXCELLENCY, WILLIAM MARQVESSE OF NEWCASTLE, Knight of the most Illustrious Order of the Garter, and one of the Lords of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council.  
May it please Your Excellency,  
THese Pieces of LUCIAN, which (as your Excellency can bear me witness) were Translated for your private Entertainment above five and twenty years since, like Fugitive servants broken forth out of your Closet, do now return to you in a more Public way. And truly, My Lord, whether it were Malice or Mistake I know not, but they were here in this place taken for Wanderers; And when they went to the Press, met the Whipping-post in their way, by the over severe persecution of some needlessly morose.  
I need not tell your Excellency, that Translations compared with their Originals are commonly pictures of very differing shapes; Or that the Conversion of the meanest Author from one Tongue into another is so hard a Task, that the undertaker may as well contrive a Marriage between two disagreeing Elements; or beget a friendship between Fire and Snow, as reconcile the several proprieties in which the several. Tongues speak.  
For as the Painter who would draw a man of a bald head, rumpled forehead, copper nose, pig eyes, and ugly face, draws him not to Life, nor doth the business of his Art, if he draw him less deformed, or ugly than he is; Or as he who would draw a fair, amiable Lady, limbs with an erring pencil, and draws a Libel, not a Face, if he give her not her just features, and perfections: So in the Translation of Books, He who makes a dull Author, Elegant and quick; or a sharp, elegant Author flat, rustic, rude and dull, by contrary ways commits the same sin, and cannot be said to translate, but to transform. Now of all Authors, I know none more hard to be rendered like Himself then Lucian: whose Greek is not of one uniform Webbe, like Plato, Thucydides, Polybius, or Eunapius; but of such a new, and particular Style, and Composition, that his best Interpreters into Latin, Erasmus, Sr Thomas Moor, Melancthon, and some others, after all their learned diligence have but made him speak like a raw Traveller from one Country to another, and to express his mind imperfectly in the broken language of the place. The sharpness of his wit, the salt of his Expressions, the humour of his stile, and the Air of His conceptions, which in all his Writings have a secret, charming mixture, will require a pen dipped often in the standish, and the very Soul and Genius of the Author transmigrated into the Quill and Fancy of the Translator.  
How great a rhetorician, and Orator he was, appears by his Orations. Some of which for the weight of his Arguments, the Distribution, and close pursuit of the parts, the Roundness of his periods: the rare Art in the choice of his words, and Transitions, naturally sliding into one another, and musically tied together, in a full flood, and torrent of persuasion: and yet like an even, uninterrupted stream, every where like himself, without Inaequalities, or swellings, may, without disparagement to such great Princes in that Art, stand in competition with the best Orations in Demosthenes, or Isocrates; And do far exceed any thing spoken by Gorgius, Leontinus, or Aeschines, who in their Times were called the Eloquence of Greece.  
'Tis true, His Subject, like Quintilians in his Declamations, is sometimes Poetical, and Feigned. But so free from Impossibilities, both for the matter, and the Dress, the same skill which made him plead for the Disinherited Son, in any real Court of justice would have sent him victorious from the Bar, and have made the judge's side with his defended Truth.  
Perhaps some, who (without Rivals) do think themselves great Orators, may differ from me in Opinion. But surely more out of Pride, and Kindness to their own Meteor-compositions, than justice to Lucian: who, had he seen a selfconceited Preacher go up buskined into the Pulpit, and there in a Tragical stile, and voice as Cothurnal, entertain his Hearers with a Romantic shower of words, which promised Demonstration, the great Mountain of Discourse, but brought forth an abortive, poor, topical Mouse; If he should hear a Text of Scripture transformed into a Chaos, pursued without just order, & stuffed with Bombast, & confusion; sometimes flying aloft into a thin cloud of Nonsense, as if the Preacher aimed at some high preferment in the Moon; or else had stolen his Sermon from Lucian's true History, which speaks of Ants & Gnats as big as Elephants, and Whales; and describes Battles fought by two Armies in the Sun; sometimes puffed up into such bubbles of Expression, as sound big to the ear, but are but bubbles to the eye, he would doubtless send such Garagantua, tumid Orators to the Doctor who cured his Lexiphanes of his Fustian disease, who upon the taking of a purge was delivered of a Tympany, and made to vomit all his tough, affected words, his Anodynes, Efforts, and Exertions up again.  
But I do not wonder that such Opiniators should be sick of this Disease: who having succeeded a canting Generation of men, whose Rhetoric was as rude, & mechanic as their persons, do defile the English Tongue with their Republic words, which are most immusicall to the Ear, and scarce significant to a Monarchical understanding. Words which are the mere Excrements of Language; which proceeded from the late Body politic of this Vncivilized Nation, and were not allowed their legitimate concoxion, but broke forth into the World with Brutishness, and Rebellion Coined, & minted by those Seditious, Rump Grammarians, who did put their own impressions to the King's Silver, and so committed Treason against their Prince, and their own rude stamp and sense to their Goth and Vandal words; and so committed Treason against His good people. Quem penes Arbitrium est & Ius & Normaloquendi.  
Indeed it would make a man, who hath a true Taste in Rhetoric, and knows from what fountains the waters are to be drawn, what ancient Examples in that Art are to be followed, and what just measure of Oil is to be poured into his Lamp, who will speak with success, fall into a fit of Indignation, when he hears a rumbling fellow, to whom a Trope or Figure is unknown, much more the Laws which give power and strength to a Discourse, start up a Rhetorician with no other furniture but Face, Impudence, and Noise. And affront the ears of his hearers with a lump & heap of such indigested stuff, as hath no other excuse but that he spewed it unpraemeditated. Such fellows are only eloquent by faction; and nothing can preserve them from being like the tumultuary Orator, who bespoke a set of friends still to vote his speeches good.  
How exactly skilled in all sorts of Philosophy he was, and how fit to sit down in the chair, and be the judge of Controversies, your Excellency may perceive by his curious, and Logical examination of all Sects, In his Hermotemus. From whence I know not whether Lactantius did not borrow his Christian Arguments to prove, that as they all grossly erred in their Notion of true Happiness, (concerning which there were as many Opinions, as there were several Schools and Sects) so they were all no less mistaken in their Notion of Truth. Both, like the Oracle, concluding Socrates to be the Wisest man for saying, That he only knew this one Truth, that he truly known nothing.  
As for his Wit (a thing never yet perfectly defined) He hath had this previledge beyond most other Writers, That as it never wanted a solid Ground and Foundation in Matter, so after so many Ages 'tis still Fresh and currant. Aristophanes, in a Comical way, was doubtless one of the greatest wits of his Time. And the like might be said of Menander, if Time, which devours its children, had left us more them his Fragments, to judge him by: yet their wit being only fitted to the Humours and Persons of their own present Times, for the most part entered with the Prologue, and expired with the Epilogue of their Comedies. And is now wit to none but those, who have taken the pains to be acquainted with the Manners of that Age; And can raise Laughter to themselves from the help of a Scholiast, to tell them, why Socrates was made ridiculous for being a grave man, or Cleon for being a Knight, and Senator of Athens.  
The truth is, some kinds of wit are like some kinds of Garments, which hold fashion for a while, but grow old in the wearing, and are left off in compliance to a newer mode. Or as 'tis with small wines, which taste quick upon the place where they grow, but paul, and die, by the way, if they be transported by Sea into another Country.  
Men of vulgar judgements, and sanguine aâry comprehensions, think all wit consists in the sudden breaking of a jest, or the quickness of an Epigram, or the Tooth of a Satire, or the Newness of a Saying, which was not heard before: but these are but the lighter Ingredients of wit, which like Squibs, flash, and blaze, and perish in the kindling. To make wit lasting, and long lived, a well weighed mixture of Reason is required; A working Invention to contrive, and design, a quick fancy to give the Edge, and a sharp judgement to apply, and to shape, and square all this to present Subject, and Occasion. In all which this Author was so great a Master, that his Compositions will be as lasting as the World. And his Images have already outlived the Statues of Phidias, and Lysippus, though to give them Immortality, they were carved, and wrought in Marble, and Corinthian Brass.  
Notwithstanding all these Excellencies, set off with as great a variety of wit and matter, as can possibly match profit with delight; some Vinegar men, at whose Births sure Saturn reigned, and conveyed his leaden Influence into their Morosity and Manners, are not content in their dull, pedantic way to persecute all wit, as vicious, and profane, but seem wholly to incline to Sr john Sucklin's opinion, who made a rich Alderman of London to have the greatest wit, for being perfectly well gifted in the Art of getting Money.  
And these are they, My Lord, who have most wretchedly endeavoured to change the fabulous Tradition, which goeth of Lucian's Death into true story; That returning from a Feast he was torn in pieces by Dogs. For first, among their other Ignorant aspersions, they have not stuck to call him Atheist: But is it not strange they should accuse Him of Atheism, who so ingeniously drove Idolatry out of the World? Before whose wit the Heathen Images fell to the Ground, as Dagon did before the Ark of God in the Scripture? Who did the business of S. Paul, and the rest of the Apostles, by taking their Divinity from God's of wood and stone? Who stopped the mouths of Oracles, quenched the fires upon their Altars, turned their Temples into Deserts, undisguised their Delusions, and taught the cozened World that they paid dear for Lies and Cheats? Was he an Atheist who would not allow their jupiter to be the Thunderer in Heaven, whose Sepulchre and Cradle were to be seen in Crect? Who thought no Religion was due to a Venus made of Ivory; or to an Aesculapius which was the Creature of a Smith? Who laughed at Gods made of the same Materials with their Altars; And thought an Apollo hewn out of a Tree not fit to be Worshipped, but to Kindle an Oblation. If for this they call him Atheist, they cannot acquit themselves from being Infidels, and Heathens. They might as well affirm that Clemens of Alexandria, Arnobius, justin Martyr, St Austin, and as many Fathers of the Church, as armed their Pens against the Superstitions of those Times, were bred in Lucian's School: and like Him, were Atheists too. Since they only in a sober way proved such Gods to be no Gods: He exposed them to the scorn and contempt of those who did adore them. So that for my part, I know not to whose writings we more owe our Christianity, where the true God hath succeeded such a multitude of false, whether to their grave confutations, or to his facetious wit.  
Next, they object That he is too Satirical, and puts too much Gall into his Ink. 'Tis much to be suspected That They who thus object, are guilty of the Follies, Hypocrisies, and Crimes, which he with so much pleasant wit labours to reform. For if they were innocent, why should they read his Works with such trembling apprehensions, as if he were risen from the dead to pluck off their Disguises, and say, Ye are the men I mean? Why should any man who is not like the Fantastic Gentleman, who thought the bare having of a great Library, which he understood not, nor ever meant to study, would make him a great Scholar, quarrel with a dead Author, and speak hardly of his Ashes, for telling a story of one sick of this Disease, who bought Epictetus' Candlesticks in hope it would make him a Philosopher? Or of one who at an excessive price bought Orpheus' Harp, thinking it would enable him to draw Beasts and Trees like Him, and without learning of the Art, would make him a rare Musician? Why should they be troubled with his Description of a Feast, where a company of Wrangling Philosophers met; who began the meal with a grave Discourse of Virtue; then drank themselves drunk in praise of Sobriety and Fasting; Then, as their wine inspired them, proceeded to hard Notions; Then by virtue of a bigger Glass to a comparison of Sects; From a comparison of Sects to most rude, un-manlike Rail; which concluded in a Civil War, where Platters were made weapons, and were changed to pewter Syllogisms, thrown at one another's Heads? Was he too much a Satirist, who called such a meal as this, by the name of the Battle fought between the Lapithae's and Centaurs? Or was his Character too Keen of such Hypocritical pretenders, for saying, that they were mere aequivocal Good men, whose Philosophy and Virtue lay in their sour looks, their artificial Gravity, their long beards, and formal Gowns? Did he bait his Hook with too much Gall, who baited it with Gold, by which he makes whole Shoals of such grave dissembling men, place Happiness in Wealth, and swim Captives to his Angle? If such Truths as these deserve the name of Satire, I must confess he was the best Satirist in the World.  
But can they who thus reproach him with the sharpness of his wit, say he was an Enemy to any thing but Vice? Was there ever a fairer Picture drawn of a truly Learned, Virtuous man then his Demonax? Or could Demosthenes himself speak more in praise of his Own Eloquence, than Lucian hath done for him? Or was there ever such a Picture of Beauty mixed with Virtue, as he drew of the Lady, which gave the Title to his Images? Yet some sour formalists, who only want the long beards of his two faced Philosophers, to be as Pedantic, and perhaps as learned as They, have not only without wit disparaged Lucian's wit, which hath been the Delight and Admiration of all Ages, but have grinned at Me for being his Translator. 'Tis not a work proper for a Divine, say they. 'Tis well St chrysostom lives not in our Days. For if I be thus censured for turning a few pieces of him into English, what punishment did he deserve, who, being a Father of the Church, with a very pious Theft, converted several parts of him into Homilies and Sermons? But to assure their Wisdoms that they have barked in the dark, without the help of Moonshine to direct them in their Snarling, your Excellency knows, I was no Divine, but a young Student of this College, when these Sheets passed through my Pen. But Lucian wrote against the Christians. 'Tis more tolerably spoken, and with less Ignorance than his, who said, Lucian was an Aerian, and wrote against Bishops. He might as well have said, that he wrote in Defence of Antichrist; Or that by the same Figure of wild Anticipation, He was an Arminian, because, In his jupiter confuted, he wrote against Stoicism, in the point of Fate, and Absolute Decree. The truth is, these men have taken popular error for their Guide. For if they will give credit to the judgement of Philander, Micyllus, Opsopaeus, Cognatus, and some others, who by the difference of Wit and Style, could discover a Spurious Author from a true: the Dialogues in which the Christians are reproached, were none of his. Or if they were, How am I to be accused, who have not made them English, but have left them locked up in their own untranslated Greek? But he Wrote an Obscene Lucius, and Meretricious Dilaogues, not fit for the Eyes or Ears of a Chaste, or Christian Reader. These too I have left with their own Curtain drawn before them, and have not held a Candle to the Mysterious doings of a Stews.  
The truth is, My Lord, in this Translation I am guilty but of one great Offence, which these sharp-sighted Men have most grossly overseen. And that is, not an Offence against them, but against your Excellency, for not Translating more. Which I had done, if the late barbarous Times had not broke into my Study. And by raising a Rebellion against Learning, and their Prince, had not called You away to lead an Army in the Field. Where I reasonably supposed, that in the Head of a Camp, you could not find leisure for such Divertisements as these. But when a Powerful Enemy was in view, and ready to join Battle, would have thought it a very incongruous Recreation to read such Books as these with your Sword and Helmet on; or to Issue forth your Orders with a Lucian in your hand. For the clearing, therefore, of the many Obligations, which beyond all requital you have often laid upon me, I beseech you to accept of my Will for the Deed; Nor to despise this Sacrifice, because the Sheep is taken from another man's Fold, or because the Sheafe grew in another man's Field. But to put the greater value upon this mean Address, which to show me grateful, hath put me into the Number of those very poor people, who are fain to borrow the Money with which they pay their Debts.  
Your excellency's real Honourer, and much obliged Servant JASPER maine. Christ Church. Aug: 10, 1663.   

An Answer to one that said, You are PROMETHEUS in your Speeches.  
PROMETHEUS am I then? If good Sir, you say so, because my works have Earth in them, I allow the Comparison, and confess myself like him; nor refuse to be called a potter; though my Clay be much base, and almost as barbarous and course, as that which lies in the street. But if over praising my speeches for curious, and artificial, you entitle them to the wisest of the Titans, take heed lest some body say, you speak Irony; and that you attire an Attic flout in a Commendation. But where, I pray, am I so curious? Or in which of my writings perceive you this overpolisht Promethean Wisdom? 'Tis enough for me that they are not wholly composed of Earth; or fit to be rewarded with Caucasus. But with how much more Justice may you be compared to Prometheus, who are so famed for your plead, and for making Wars against the Truth? Yours are living, breathing works, and carry a heat with them, which hath flame in it; wherein you truly imitate Prometheus, only here's the difference; most of you work not in Clay, but raise golden pieces. ay, who address myself to the Multitude, and glory in their Attention show forth only some certain dead Images; And, as I said before, like puppet-makers, and potters, busy myself in clay; having neither life nor motion in my doings, but making my Recreation and Play my business. I cannot then, but consider, whether you called me not Prometheus, as the Comedian called Cleon, when he said Cleon was an after game Prometheus. Or as the Athenians called all those who made pots and pans, and wrought in clay, Prometheus; alluding, I suppose, to their materials, and the baking of their vessels in the fire. If this be the meaning of your Prometheus, you have aimed your dart aright, and have tipped it with an Attic sharpness, and point. Since my works are as frail, and brittle as their pots, and are ready to shiver and break upon the least dash of a stone. But some man, for my encouragement, will say, in comparing my doings to Prometheus, you have praised their Novelty, as following no Copy, or Example. As he when there were yet none, first invented, and framed Men; shaping and trimming his new Creatures so, as to be quick of Motion, and graceful in Aspect. Wherein though he were the Artificer, yet Minerva assisted; who inspired the Clay, and breathed a Soul, and life into the Workmanship. Thus may some man say, and give a fair construction to your Words. And perhaps this was your meaning. But this satisfies me not, if I be thought a Broacher of Novelties; since nothing can be named more ancient than that Original by which my works are drawn. Yet if they wanted Gracefulness, or Beauty, I should both blush for them, and, would have you know, should tread them under foot. Who am not so taken with Novelty, as not to despise it, if it come misshapen. Since, should I think otherwise, I were worthy to be torn by sixteen Vultures; Not understanding how much the Deformity of things is increased by their strangeness. Ptolemy, therefore the son of Lagus, having brought two strange things into Egypt, a Bactrian Camel all over black; And a man equally divided into two Colours, one half exactly black, the other exceeding white; and having assembled the Egyptians in the Theatre, and entertained them with many other shows; at last presented the Camel, and party coloured man, thinking to raise their wonder by the sight. But they much frighted at the Camel, were ready to run away in Tumult: Though he were decked all over with gold, had trappings of purple, and a bridle inlaid with Jewels; The wealth or Treasure perhaps of some Darius, or Cambyses, or Cyrus. But at sight of the man many laughed: Others turned away their faces, as from some Prodigy. Whereupon Ptolemy perceiving, that they took not as he intended, and that the Egyptians were not at all amazed with their strangeness, bu● rather preferred things comely and well featured, caused them to be removed, not having the man afterwards in such value as before: And suffering the Camel to die neglected, he gave the two-coloured man to one Thespis a Minstrel for playing well at a drinking. So I may well fear lest my works show like a Camel before the Egyptians: However some men may admire their bridle, and purple. For that they are compounded of two excellent things, Dialogue, and Comedy, is not enough to give them Elegancy, and form, unless there be agreement, and measure, and harmony in the Mixture. For from two Excellencies may arise a disfigured composition, as is ordinarily reported of Centaurs; which you will not call an amiable creature, but rather a Creature of Contempt: If we may believe painters, who always limb them amidst their drunkenness, and slaughters. What then? may there not spring a well favoured Compound, from two beauties mixed? As when Wine is mingled with honey, may I not say both are sweetly tempered? I will not earnestly affirm my writings to be such; But fear lest their Composition have corrupted their beauty. For Dialogue and Comedy, have not always been friends, and matched together, Since that kept at home, and delighted in solitary walks, and maintained discourse but with some few; whereas this wholly giving over itself to Bacchus, lived in the Theatre, and ther● raised sport, and laughter, darted jests, and danced to the pipe in numbers: Sometimes speaking in Anapaests; it scoffed at those who studied Dialogue, calling them men of anxious Contemplations, and Romancers of high matters, and the like; observing only one way of presentment, which was to jeer them, and with a Dyonisian Liberty to bring them in, sometimes walking in the Air, and conversing with Clouds; sometimes measuring the jumps, and skippings of Fleas; as men who disputed light, Airy matters too subtly. On the other side Dialogue held reverend disputes of the nature of things, and of virtues of Philosophers; so that, according to the Proverb of the Musicians, there was twice the distance of all Gamut, from the highest note to the lowest and basest, between them; And yet have I dared to unite things of this distance, and to raise agreement from things disagreeing, and not well enduring fellowship: And from hence have reason to fear, lest I seem to have attempted something like to your Prometheus, in mingling a woman with a man, and do therefore undergo your Arraignment. Nay, lest I have enterprised something worse, and conzened my Hearers by inviting them to bones covered with fat, and dressed a Comic Laughter in the Gravity of a Philosopher. As for Thee very; of all things you can never charge that upon my writings. From whom should I steal? unless there be some one, not yet come to my knowledge, who hath written of Chimaeras, and Giants. Besides, what would would you have me do? 'Tis good to pursue an Enterprise once begun; since to change purposes belongs; to Epimetheus, not Prometheus.   

An Epistle to Nigrinus.  Lucian to Nigrinus wisheth prosperity. 
Owles' to Athens, says the Proverb; as if 'twere ridiculous to carry Owls thither, where is such plenty. So for me to write, and send my book to Nigrinus accompanied with power and force of words, were to fall under the ridiculous Proverb, and to send Owles' indeed. My purpose being only to acquaint thee, how I am, and how thy Speeches have left such deep Impressions in me, I descent from Thucydides saying, that Ignorance makes men bold, and consideration fearful: Since 'tis manifest that not Ignorance alone, but the desire and love of Conversation and Speech is the cause of this my boldness. Farewell.   

Nigrinus, or the Manners of Philosophers.  The Speakers. Lucian and a Philosopher. LUcian. 
How venerable, and exalted you are returned? neither vouchsafing to look on us any more, or to afford us your Company, or to mingle discourses with us, but are of a sudden transformed into One who contemns all men. I would gladly know of you, how you arrived to this Insolence, and upon what reasons?  Philos. 
What Reasons can there be, my friend, but felicity?  Luci: 
How say you?  Philos: 
Marry, that beyond my Expectations I am returned prosperous and happy, and to borrow an Expression from the Stage, thrice happy.  Luci: 
O Hercules! in so short a Time?  Philosoph: 
'tis even so.  Lucian. 
But what else is there which makes you so proud, as not to allow us to rejoice at your good fortune, or to hear the truth of your whole Story?  Philosoph: 
Is't not a thing to be admired, think you, for a slave to return free, a beggar rich, a fool wise, and a madman recovered?  Lucian. 
Yes surely: Yet I understand not clearly what you drive at.  Philosoph: 
I went into the City, then, to find a Surgeon for my Eyes; whose pain very much increased, and grew upon me.  Lucian. 
All this I know; and wished you might light upon a skilful one.  Philos: 
Having purposed also, of a long time to bestow a visit upon Nigrinus, the Platonic Philosopher, rising early, I went to Salute him, and knocking at his door, a boy carried in the Message, and I was sent for in. At my first Entrance, I found him with a book in his hand, beset round with the Images of the ancient Wisemen. In the midst of the room stood a table bestrewed with Geometrical Diagrams, & figures; and a Sphere resembling the Universe. Saluting me very friendly, he asked me how I did; I having made him an account, for return, asked him how he did, and whether his resolution held for another voyage into Greece. He no sooner began to speak, and to open his mind, but his words fell upon me in such a shower of Ambrosia, that me-thought (if ever there were any) I was among Homer's ancient Sirens, and Nightingales. So Divinely he uttered himself, when falling into the praise of Philosophy, and the Child thereof, Liberty, he laughed at those things which the vulgar esteem good; Riches, Glory, Kingdoms, and Honour, Gold also, and Purple; and those other things prized commonly by the most, and till then by me. Which I received with an attentive and open mind, saw not for the present, the thing to which I might compare myself: but was cast into a Distraction; sometimes grieving to hear those things most precious to me, Riches, Gold and Glory disproved; almost weeping at their Confutation; now again accounting them bale and contemptible. Much joyed, though, that I now began to look through the clouds, and Gloominess of my former life: wherefore wholly forgetting the cure of my eyes, as a vanity, my mind by little and little began to be very sharp sighted, which till then I carried about with me blind; till passing on, I became the thing whereof you accuse me; a Man advanced, and carried aloft by his discourse, and unable ever since to submit to small contemplations. For that happened to me concerning Philosophy, which is reported to have happened to the Indians concerning Wine; who being naturally hot, upon their first taste of a liquor so enflaming, presently grew mad, and were twice as much enraged as other men. Just so do I appear to you, drunk and reeling with all discourses; though this is not to be drunk, but discreet and sober.  Lucian. 
I would feign, (if it may be without your trouble) hear his discourses reported, securing them from my disdain, being such a hearer as is both a friend to yourself, and one who hath heretofore spent time in such lofty studies.  Philosoph: 
I obey your desires Sir, since according to that half verse in Homer, you petition One already willing; who, if you had not prevented me, had voluntarily craved your attention. For I desire to make you a witness to others, that I am not mad without reason; it being my delight to exercise, and make repetitions to myself, though no body be present; and twice or thrice a day solitarily to revolve what I heard. And as lovers supply the absence of those they love with the remembrance of their Words or Actions, and fixing their thoughts upon them, cozen their Longings with their memory, as if those they loved were present; framing to themselves imaginary Dialogues, and takeing pleasure in those things which they then seem to hear, as when they were at first spoken; and applying their minds to the remembrance of things past, busy themselves as if they lay before them: so I take no small satisfaction in recollecting those absent discourses of Philosophy which I once heard; and like Seamen, or Travellers in the dark, do steer my Course by this Candle, always imagining that man to be present to my Actions, and as it were still hearing his discourse; sometimes raising my Contemplation, methinks I have his face in my eyes, and his words in my ears; so truly did he verify that of the Comedian, and left a sting in his Hearers.  Lucian. 
Spare further Prefaces, admired Sir, and begin your story; for you do not a little torment and tyre my expectation.  Philosoph: 
You say true, my friend, and what is fit; But first I pray have you seen an ill Tragic or Comic Actor; those I mean who are hist, who spoiling good Poems with bad Actions, are at last plucked off the stage, though the play, perchance, deserve Bays and Claps?  Lucian. 
I know many such; But why ask you?  Philosoph: 
Because I fear lest I seem to you to imitate them; whilst giving no right order to my rehearsal, I corrupt his meaning by my weakness, and wrong the Play by repetition. As for myself your disallowance will not much trouble me; But I should be sorry a good argument should suffer in my delivery, or grow disfigured under my performance. Remember then, that through my whole Narration the Actors faults be not laid upon the Poet, but remove him far from the stage, as not concerned by that which is done in the Theatre. ay, in the mean time, will give you a taste what a player I am for my memory; otherwise not at all differing from a messenger in a Tragedy. Wherefore if I report any thing imperfectly, think that which was left out, best; and that the Poet would have told it with more advantage: and then if you hisse me, I shall not much care.  Lucian. 
An excellent exordium, by Mercury, and continued like a Rhetorician. You would add now, that you stayed not long with him, and that you come unprovided to speak, and that 'twere better hear him make his own report; and that you brought not away all, but as much as was possible for you at that time to bind up in your memory. Were you not about to say thus? I shall therefore hold you excused, and desire you to think you have Spun a sufficient preface to your Story: Since I, for my part, am ready to give you my applause; whereas if you tyre me longer, I shall remember my vexation by the way, and hiss aloud.  Philosoph: 
Surely 'twas in my purpose to say as much as you have passed over; and to have added, besides, that to deliver things in this order, and to draw them into the like continued web, is to me impossible; since striving to make him speak with my voice, I should once more be like those players, who sustaining the person of Agamemnon, or Creon, or Hercules, and being richly dressed, and looking majestickly, and straining to speak big, come off in a slender, treble, womanish voice, much smaller than that of Hecuba, or her daughter Polyxena: lest therefore their Accusations become mine, by acting a part too great for me, and thereby disgraceing my properties, I will speak in my own naked person; lest where I slip, that Divine personage, whom I represent, should fall with me.  Lucian. 
This fellow will never leave vexing me with similitudes taken from Tragedies, and the stage.  Philosoph. 
I have done, and now come to the matter. The entrance to this discourse, then, was a Commendation of Greece, and of the students at Athens, who were equally bred to Philosophy, and want; neither vainly delighted with the sight of the Citizens; nor so taken with strangers as by their new fashions to corrupt their education; But if any came among them so disposed, they by little and little transformed him, and untaught him his former manners; and wrought him into a purer kind of behaviour and carriage. I remember he told a story of one of those spanglers, and glittering men, who came to Athens very brave, and gallant, numerously attended, and variously apparelled; who supposed himself to be much aemulated by all the Athenians, and thought a Demigod▪ but appeared to those a man much to be pitied; who presently began to instruct him, not harshly, or openly dissuading him to live in a free City, as he pleased. But after he began to be troublesome to their Schools, and Baths, thronging all Passengers with his Crowd of followers, one in a concealed low voice, scarce able to reach him, would say, I was afraid lest this gallant would have been smothered at washing: Another, the Baths have enjoyed a long peace, what need of such an Army then? He in the mean time overheard things as they were, and took in Instruction. Again when he took off his Embroideries, and purple, pleasantly jeering his Flowers, and colours, some would say, The spring is come: others, From whence flew this peacock? others, Perhaps these feathers were his mothers, and the like. And so passing their scoffs on other things, sometimes they would flout the multitude of his Rings: sometimes the superfluous curling of his hair: sometimes the Luxury of his Diet, till insensibly he grew discreet, and being thus publicly reform, departed much better than he came. How little they are ashamed to profess poverty, appears by a passage which he recounted to me, which happened publicly at the celebration of the Athenian Games; where one of the Town was apprehended and brought before the Judge of the sports, for coming to the show in a died suit; which when the rest see, they pitied the man, and besought his pardon; and when the crier proclaimed, he had broke the Law, which allowed no spectators so apparelled, as if they had before consulted, they all cried out with one voice, that liberty should be granted to one so arrayed, seeing he had no more clothes. Such passages as these he much extolled; as also the freedom of the place, the frugality of their Diet, the Calms, and tranquillity of the people which they possess unenvied. Assuring me withal, that their life was agreeable to their Philosophy; and was able to preserve manners in their purity; and that to a virtuous man, and one who had learned to despise Riches, and had resolved to order his life by these things which were naturally honest, no place afforded such suitable Conversation. But to a man that loved wealth, and took delight in Gold, and measured happiness by his power, and purple; who never tasted liberty, or made trial of freedom, or beheld Truth, but was bred up in flatteries, and servitude, who sacrificed his soul in obedience to pleasure, and loved luxurious feasts, or excess of wine, or use of women, filling himself with Impostures, Cozenage, and lies: As also to him who took pleasure in light Music, or in loose lascivious songs, the conversation of this place was most proper. For here every street, and market place is stored with the things which they most affect; and men are free to take in pleasure at all their gates and senses, their eyes, their ears, their smell, their palate, their Embracements, and Touch; which running in one eternal, muddy, troubled stream, drowns and overflows all passages; Adultery, and covetousness, and perjury, and such a tribe of pleasures, meeting there together in one channel: whence the soul being overwhelmed by a deluge, modesty, virtue, and justice become utterly unjointed, and lost; leaving the place void and empty, and in their stead a thirst, and spring of vices of several kinds and forms. This character he gave me of this City, the nurse and mistress of such virtues. I therefore, said he, no sooner set sail from Greece, and arrived near my own shore, when recollecting my thoughts I asked myself the reason of my return; Applying that verse of Homer to myself, O most unhappy Wight, why leaving Phoebus' light, (Greece you must suppose, and the happiness, and the liberty of those parts) art thou come back? that thou mayest behold the disorder of this place, Sycophants, proud salutes, prolonged suppers, flatterers, murders, expectation of dead men's wills, and dissembled friendship? or what wilt thou do, who canst neither reform, nor yet practise the bad Customs of the place? Reasoning thus with myself? as jupiter did Hector, so I withdrew myself from the pikes, and slaughters, and skirmishes of the World; resolving ever after to keep at home, and proposing to myself this womanish, or (as some may call it) dastardly course of life. I hold discourses with Philosophy, Plato, and truth: And placing myself as if I were in some populous Theatre, I look down from aloft upon the Carriage of affairs abroad; partly as they are able to stir recreation, and provoke laughter, partly as they are able to prove the Constancy of a resolute man. For if it be seemly to speak in praise of vice, you cannot imagine where the exercise of virtue is greater, or where minds undergo stronger trials, then amidst the manners of this City. For 'tis no small victory to resist so many temptations, so many charming spectacles, and attracting allurements: But like Ulysses to sail by them, not with hands bound, (which were cowardly) nor with ears stopped with wax, but with attention, and loose, requires a mind sublimated, and raised above them. You will admire Philosophy, if you set it in comparison with such madness; and contemn the Goods of fortune, beholding, as it were in a Scene, or varying Comedy, a servant sometimes to come forth a master, a rich man to become poor; And on the contrary, a beggar to become a Lord, or Prince; one man to be a friend, another an enemy, a third an exile. But the thing most deplorable is, that though fortune plainly testify that the businesses of mortals are her pastime; and though men daily see that nothing is stable, and fixed, yet they still itch after riches, and great place, and still walk on in the pursuit of successless hopes. Now whereas I told you 'twas fit to laugh and raise mirth from ordinary Occurrences, so I will give you some examples. Is't not good Comedy to see rich men display their purple, brandish their rings, and bewray so much folly? But the great vanity of all is, that they salute those they meet by others mouths, and account it a great favour to vouchsafe them a look. Others more venerable, and expecting Adoration, are not to be saluted a far off, nor after the Persian manner, but are to be approached with a low obeisance; And in fashioning your address before you come near, you are to signify the humility of your mind, by the posture of your body; and then are permitted to kiss their breast or hand: which in those who were never so favoured, stirs a matter of emulation, and regard, whilst you, all the while, deliver yourself over to be cozened. Where I cannot but praise their inhumanity, for not saluting us with their mouth. Much more ridiculous are those their retainers, and clients, who rising at midnight, fetch a Compass, and walk about the City; and after all are excluded by the servants; and suffer themselves to be called dogs, flatterers, and the like. The reward of their tedious Circuit, is a troublesome supper, and the cause of many mischiefs; where eating much, and drinking more than is fit, and speaking many things not to be named, at last finding fault and discontent they depart, either blaming their entertainment, or disrespect, or the baseness of the invitation: Bespewing the Lanes also, and Allies, as they pass; or quarrelling in vile baudy-houses; whereby most of them the next day are fain to keep their beds, and to send for Surgeons; others, most absurdly, scarce refrain making visits in their sickness. ay, in the mean time, hold these who thus flatter, much more miserable and lost, than those who are flattered: as being the principal authors of the others pride. For when they admire their plenty, and extol their wealth, and every morning beset their doors, and in their ordinary accostments salute them as their Masters, what must the others think of themselves? Whereas, if by common agreement they would forbear, though it were but a while, this voluntary servitude, do you not think the rich would come a begging to poor men's doors, and make suit to them not to let their Felicity lie without spectators, and witnesses? or the bravery of their tables, and magnificence of their Buildings, to stand useless and unregarded? For none are so enamoured of their treasures, as to think themselves therefore happy because they have them; since possession would give little value to stately palaces, Chests of Gold, and boards of Ivory, were there not some body to admire them. 'Twere fit therefore, for the Abatement of their estimation and power, to encounter rich men with contempt; since humouring of them increases their folly. But for men unlettered, and openly professing ignorance, to do thus, may perhaps be thought tolerable. That which most deserves a Satire, is, that those who make profession of Philosophy, do things yet more ridiculous. How think you, am I troubled in my soul, when I see a man of reverend years mingle himself with a troop of flatterers, and give his attendance to some great officer, and at supper to mix discourse with other retainers, yet the more taken notice of for his habits sake? Though I stomach most that they change not their garb, as well as act all the other parts in the Play. For as for those things which pass at such invitations, to which of the flatterers are they to be compared? Do they not eat with much less moderation? Are they not much more apparently drunk? They always rise last, and strive to carry away more than others: And if there be any one of them of a finer education, many times he will offer to sing. These things he observed as ridiculous, particularly also taxing those who taught Philosophy for reward, and sold virtue, as it were, in the market; calling their Schools shops, and shambles; and thinking it most reasonable, that he who taught others to despise wealth, should first render himself above gain: since it was his own ordinary course, not only to instruct those who would learn gratis, but if need were to supply their wants out of his generous contempt of riches; being so far from coveting things which did not concern him, as not to bend his cares to the preservation of those things which were his own; for many years not once vouchsafeing to visit a farm which he had near the City. For first, he made question whether he might call it his own: proceeding I suppose by this distinction, that by nature we are not Lords of any thing; but that by law, and succession, we obtain an uncertain possession, and use of things; and are for a little time called owners; and when our set term is expired, that then they pass on to another, who bears that name. Many other exemplary things he had in him worthy of imitation; the plainness of his diet, the moderation of his exercise, the gravity of his person, the decency of his apparel, but above all the equal temper, and sweetness of his behaviour. His manner was to admonish such as resorted to him, not to defer their amendment, (as many do; who set themselves certain feasts, and solemn times, from whence to begin to leave off lying, and to do things which are honest) maintaining that the embracements of virtue ought to be without delay. He also condemned those Philosophers very much, who placed the exercise of virtue in accustoming their young Scholars to the labours, and hardnesses which they were to resist; commanding them sometimes to be bound, and whipped; others, somewhat more elegant, used to cut prints in their flesh with a razor: whereas, said he, 'twere much better to beget an hardiness and courage in their souls first; that way of education being still to be preferred, which partly regards the mind, partly the body, partly the learners age, and former course of breeding; it being a great fault in Tutors to task their Scholars beyond their abilities; since many too hard set have died under their impositions. One I knew, said he, who having tasted their cruel discipline, at the first hearing of more rational discourses (as if he had then come to himself) irrecoverably forsook them, and lived ever after very contentedly. Here he passed on, and speaking of other professions, at last fell upon the disturbances, and Justlings of the City; not omitting the Theatre, the horse-race, Horseman's statues, names of great horses, and the Cracks made of them in by-Corners. For, said he, there is not a more usual madness then that of Horse-race; wherewith also many who wear the countenance of virtue are infected. After this entering, as it were, upon another Act of the play, he touched upon those passages which fall out at funerals, and making of wills: Adding, moreover, that the Romans in all their life time uttered but one true word, meaning in their wills; so that the Testator never enjoys the benefit of his own truth. I could not refrain laughter, when he proceeded, and said, the Romans desired to have their ignorance buried with them, and yet proclaimed their stupidity by their wills; whilst some command those clothes of best value worn by them in their life time to be burnt with them; Others leave so many servants to attend their graves; Others give order for the crowning of their pillars with chaplets; prolonging their folly beyond their funerals; and leaving it to conjecture what they did alive, when they provide for such monuments after their death. For these are they, said he, who buy only that meat which costs most, who at their entertainments drink wine with music, and Odours; who in the midst of winter crown themselves with roses, which they prise from their unseasonableness, and scarcity; disdaining those as worthless which are of a timely and natural growth. These are they who drink perfumes: where, by the way, he carped at those who known not how to order, and use their pleasures; but sinned by the preposterous shuffling, and confusion of them; suffering them utterly to trample upon and waste the soul; being, according to that saying of the Tragedy, themselves hurried beyond the mark. This he said, was a mere solecism in pleasure; Imitating Momus, I believe, in his reprehension. For as he found fault with God for making a Bull, and not placing his horns before his eyes; so he blamed those who wore Garlands, and known not their right place; For, said he, if they delight in the Air, or sent of violets, and roses, they should wear them just under their noses, and near the place of breathing as may be, that the smell may strike their sense the stronglier. He laughed also at those who spent their studies in the contrivance of curious entertainments; affecting unknown sauces, and variety of dishes, and putting themselves to so much charge and trouble for the love of a short transitory pleasure. For he made it a clear case, that all their pains were laid out upon the breadth of four fingers, which, said he, is the measure of the longest throat; For they cannot enjoy the pleasures of their dainties before they eat them; nor differ they in taste, though never so costly, from courser fare after they have eaten them. It remains, then, that after their great sums, they bought merely that short pleasure which they took in the passage and going down. And they are justly punished, said he, for their ignorance, who understand not those true pleasures which Philosophy bestows on the industrious. He discoursed to me, also, many things concerning Baths: How vainly they are frequented; what affronts are there offered; how some are carried thither upon their servants shoulders, as it were to their funeral. One thing ordinarily practised in the City, but most usual in Baths, he much inveighed against: That is, to have some servants go before to warn them to look to their footing, as they are to pass over some hole, or by some place which jets out; most absurdly instructing them how they are to tread. A thing in his judgement much to be complained of: that since they did not dine or sup with others mouths or hands, nor hear with others ears, yet being in perfect sense they should employ others eyes to see for them, and be guided by directions scarce fit to be given to men blind or lame; and this at midday, in the open street, when as they themselves have the managing of the state. This and much more he briefly passed over, and so ended his discourse. I all the while listening to him like one entranced, and still fearing he should give over. For he was no sooner silent, but that befell me which happened to the people of Corcyra. Long fixed I mine eyes upon him like one enchanted; Then suffering in myself a great confusion, and Tumult, first I fell into a cold sweat, next labouring to speak, I sunk down, and was unable: my voice failed, and my tongue denied its office; and to conclude, for want of other expression, I fell a crying. For his discourse did not lightly raze my skin, or leave in me a casual impression; but the stroke was deep, and home, and his speech so rightly aimed, that, as I may so say, it entered, and cloven my very soul. For if, under correction, I may now pass my judgement of Philosophical discourses, this is my opinion of them: The mind of every ingenious man is like a loft delicate Butt; many Archers there are in the world, who carry quivers filled with discourses of all sorts; yet all do not hit the mark: But some drawing their Bow too hard, give too much force to their Shaft, which flies home, indeed, but sticks not; but through too much strength passes through the Butt, leaving a great gap and wound in the Soul. Others again on the contrary through the weakness of their Arms, and slackness of their Bow, shoot not home; but their Arrows languishing in their flight, fall down many times in the midway: Or if they chance to reach the mark, they do but superficially touch it, and leave no impression; as not being discharged with might enough. But a good Archer indeed, and like him I spoke of, will exactly consider whether the Butt be not too soft, or too hard for his Arrow: (for there are some Marks not to be pierced) and as he makes his discovery, dipping his Shaft (not in poison, like the Scythians, nor in harmful juices, like the Cretans, but) in poignant, and sovereign Medicines, he discharges; allowing such just aim to his shot, as to pierce and not pass through, but to remain and stick, till the virtue of the dart, diffusing itself, overspread and season the whole mind. And this is that which at once stirs the delight, and tears of the hearers. As it then befell me, when I felt his Balsam gently creep over my Soul. I applied therefore unto him that verse: 
Still shoot, if unto men thy darts prove rays.  For as those who hear a Phrygian Cornet wound, do not all run mad; but those only who are possessed with their Goddess, upon the sound of the charm, fall into their former distractions: so all who hear Philosophers do not depart astonished and wounded, but those only between whose Souls and Philosophy, there is some sympathy and alliance.  Lucian. 
What reverend, admirable, Divine things, my good friend, have you delivered! who are (now I confess) returned full of Ambrosia, and Myrtle: wherefore all the time of your discourse my Soul felt commotions too, and I now grieve you have done so soon; and can use your words and say, I am wounded. Nor let it stir your wonder: for those, you know, who are bitten by mad Dogs, run not only mad themselves, but if they in their fury by't others, they whom they by't run mad too. For the rage conveying itself with the wound, one infection begets another, and spreads at last into a stream, and large succession of madness.  Philosoph: 
You confess yourself touched then?  Lucian. 
I do, and request you to find out some common remedy for us both.  Philosoph: 
We must do then as Telephus did.  Lucian. 
How's that?  Philosoph: 
Ask our cure of him, who gave us our wound.   

The King's Fisher, or a Discourse of TRANSFORMATIONS.  The Speakers, Chaerephon and Socrates. CHAEREPHON. 
What sound is this, Socrates, which strikes our ears from yonder promontory, and cliff? hark how sweet 'tis: what musical creature may this be?  Socrates. 
A sea-fowle, Chaerephon, called the Kings-fisher, wholly made up of Complaints, and woes; of whom there goes an ancient Fable. For 'tis reported, that being once a Woman, Aeolus the Grecians daughter, and that losing her Husband Ceyx the Trachinian, descended of Hesperus the Evening-star, a beautiful son of a bright Father, when she was yet a Girl, out of extreme love, she much lamented his death; And thereupon, by the power of some God, was put into feathers; and hath ever since in the shape of a Bird flown about the Sea in search of him.  Chaerephon. 
A Kings-Fisher call you her? I never heard her before; and therefore to me she seemed some outlandish fowl. Truly she sings in a very mournful tune; pray, Socrates, what manner of Bird is it?  Socrates. 
Not great, Chaerephon, unless it be for the great honour she hath received from the Gods for her love to her husband. For all the while she sits, though in the midst of winter, the world enjoys Halcyon days, of a different calmness from other times; whereof this day is one. See you not how clear the Heavens are? and how the Sea without wave or billow, resembles for smoothness a mirror, or Glass.  Chaerephon. 
True. This is, indeed, a Halcyon day; and yesterday was such another. But for God's sake tell me, Socrates, may I give credit to what you said, in the beginning, that women have been raised out of Birds; or that Birds have been transformed into women? It sounds to me altogether impossible.  Socrates. 
O my friend, Chaerephon, we are but purblind Judges of what is possible, and impossible. For we pronounce according to the ignorant, faithless, dull abilities of men; And therefore, many things in themselves easy, seem to us difficult; and many things in themselves attainable, seem to us not to be attained: And this befalls us sometimes through unexperience, sometimes through the infancy of our minds. For compared to the first cause every man, though never so old, is but a child; And compared to Eternity our whole life is but a childhood, and spanne. How then can they who know not the power of the God's discourse of them, or precisely tell what is possible, and what is not? you saw the storm, Chaerephon, about three days since, what lightnings, and Thunders, and tempestuous winds were there? some man would tremble at the thought of them, fearing lest the whole world would have fallen to ruin: yet you see it ended in a wonderful Calm, which lasts yet. Which, then, think you is the harder, and more unlikely, to raise a stillness out of a blustering tempest, and to cast fair weather over the world, or to change the shape of a Woman into the form of a Bird? we see children every day raise several figures, and shapes, from wax or clay. Then certainly to God, who is too great and excellent to be brought into Comparison with our performances, all these things are most familiar, and easy. How much bigger is the Heaven than you, can you tell?  Chaerephon. 
No, Socrates, nor any man else: such comparisons are not to be known, or taken measure of.  Socrates. 
Well then! do we not see the vast disproportions of some men compared with others, and how they differ in their impotencies, or strength? what wondrous difference is there between a man of mature age, and a child five or ten days old, both for their infirmity, and might; as also for all the Actions of life, whither they be the defence of those our walls so often assaulted, or any other performances either of body or mind? which things cannot possibly enter into the apprehension of a child? Then, for greatness of strength, a grown man carries no proportion, or measure, to a child; who with one hand can easily overcome millions of them. For naturally men are born of an age at first altogether unexpert, and unfit for action. If, then, one man so much excel another; how much the Gods excel us, they may consider who have abilities for such contemplations. It will, therefore, I doubt not, seem credible to most, that as much as the whole world exceeds Socrates, and Chaerephon in magnitude and space, so much do they exceed us in power and providence, and wisdom. Many things, therefore, to you and me, and such as we are, seem impossible, which to others are easy. For to wind a Cornet well to those who cannot play, and to read or write to those who are ignorant of Grammar, shows more impossible then to make women of Birds, or Birds of women. Nature, we see, finding in a Comb of Wax a shapeless worm, without Legs or Feathers, gives it Wings, and feet, and enamelling it with great diversity of fair colours, produceth a Bee, the wise Architect of Divine honey: out of dumb senseless eggs she forms several sorts of flying, walking, swimming Creatures, assisted (as 'tis thought) by the Sacred influence of the sky. We therefore, poor mortals and infants, who can neither comprehend great matters, nor understand small, but doubt of most things, even of those which concern ourselves, can say little concerning the power of the immortal Gods, or of their transformations of Kings-Fishers, or nightingales. Only as the Glory of the Fable hath been Conveyed to me from my Ancestors, so will I, to the praise of thy songs, O thou bird of mourning, convey it to posterity; and will often repeat thy virtuous love of thy Husband to my Wives Xantippe, and Mirto; not forgetting the honour bestowed upon thee by the Gods: and do you Chaerephon, do the like.  Chaerephon. 
'Tis fit I should Socrates, since all your words carry double persuasions, and are able to instruct both sexes.  Socrates. 
Now then, 'tis time we bid the Kings-fisher farewell, and return into the City.  Chaerephon. 
'Tis so, and therefore let us go.   

Prometheus or Caucasus.  The speakers. Mercury, Vulcan, Prometheus. Mercury. 
LOok Vulcan, yonder's Caucasus, to which we are to nail this wretched Titan: let's find out some eminent place, uncovered with Snow, where we may the firmelier chain him, and where he may hang most open to passengers.  Vulcan. 
You say well Mercury: For if we chain him to some low place, near the earth, his creatures, men, will come in to his succour; and if we fasten him to the Hilltoppe he will not be seen below: wherefore, if you think fit, let's crucifix him here in the middle of the hill, which hangs over this valley, and let him stretch one Arm that way, and the other this.  Mercury. 
'Tis well contrived, for here the Rock is craggy, and inaccessible, and inclining to a precipice; and the ascent so narrow, that you can hardly stand tiptoe; and every way fittest for his Cross: make no delays therefore Prometheus, but mount and suffer yourself to be fastened.  Prometheus. 
Vulcan, Mercury, pity me, who without desert am thus unfortunate.  Mercury. 
Pity thee Prometheus? why is't not enough for thee to be bound to Caucasus, unless Jupiter doom both us to the same punishment, for disobeying his Decree? Stretch forth thy right hand: unmanacle him Vulcan, and nail him, and be sure to give strength to your Hammer. Now reach out thy other hand, that he may fasten that too: well done. An Eagle will fly hither presently, and will pray upon thy Liver, and then thou wilt be fully rewarded for thy rare and most ingenious piece of work-manship.  Prometheus. 
O japetus, Saturn, and mother Earth, what tortures do I feel, who never offended or committed fault.  Mercury. 
Didsed thou never offend, Prometheus? Who at a division of sacrifices, didsed deal so unequally and deceitfully, and stealing the best for thyself, left'st nothing for Jupiter but Bones covered with fat; As I remember Hesiod tells the story so: Next thou madest men, a most sly and fallacious creature; but especially women: But above all thou stolest Fire, the most precious treasure of the Gods, and bestowed'st it upon men. And after all these offences, canst thou say thou art causelessly fastened?  Prometheus. 
Methinks, Mercury, you as well as the Poet do accuse the innocent; when you charge me with things, for which if I had Justice done me, I should be allowed a pension. If therefore, your leisure serve you, I will gladly wipe off your accusations, by showing how unjustly Jupiter hath given sentence upon me. Do you, in the mean time, being both eloquent of speech, and skilful in the laws, make his defence as if he held equal Scales, in dooming me to be here crucified near the Caspian straits, upon this Caucasus; where I am a miserable spectacle to all the Scythians.  Mercury. 
Thou spendest words in vain, Prometheus, and to no purpose; yet say on. For since I am otherwise enjoined to tarry till the Eagle alight, and feed upon thy Liver, 'twill not be amiss to fill up the time with listening to thy Sophistry, wherein thou art most expert.  Prometheus. 
First, then, Mercury, do you aggravate your charge as much as you can; and as well as you can defend your father's justice. In the mean time, Vulcan, be you Judge between us.  Vulcan. 
So help me, Jupiter, I will rather be thy accuser. Do you remember how you stole my Fire, and left my Forge cold?  Prometheus. 
Divide the accusation between you then, and do you say all you can against my Theft, let Mercury plead against my Creation of men, and division of the sacrifice: you seem to be both your Arts-masters, and very able to speak.  Vulcan. 
Mercury shall speak for me; who am not for your plead, and Law Cases, but employ myself about the Anvil, and Forge. For he is an Orator, and hath studied Rhetoric.  Prometheus. 
I believe Mercury hath little to say against Thievery, and will not charge me with a thing, whereof himself is the Author. If you have, Mercury, 'tis time you produce your Accusation.  Mercury. 
It would ask a long speech, Prometheus, and much preparation to repeat all your offences: It shall suffice me to recount only their heads. First, being permitted to cast Lots for a Sacrifice, you kept the best for yourself, and cheated the King; next, you made men, which was not fit; lastly you stole Fire from us, and bore it to them: wherein, in my opinion, you did very indiscreetly, to provoke Jupiter, who is such a friend to men. Now if you deny this, for your greater convincement, 'twill be fit I enlarge myself, and try to make the truth of things yet plainer. If you confess that you made a false Division of the Sacrifice, and that you form men, and stole Fire, my Accusation will be full, and I should but trifle to say more.  Prometheus. 
Whither you have not spoken trifles all this while, we shall see anon; I, since you think you have made such a full accusation, will strive, as well as I can, to dissolve it: First, then, lend me your attention concerning the Sacrifice. I call Heaven to witness whether in making my defence, I blush not for Jupiter, to think he should be so poor spirited, and whining, as for one small Bone, which came to his share, to send hither so ancient a God, as I am, to be crucified; not remembering of what assistance I have been to him, nor weighing how childish the ground of his displeasure is, to be angry, and fret, because he had not the greater piece. Nor do I think, Mercury, that cheats of Entertainment are to be remembered, but that all faults committed at feasts are to be reckoned sport; and that he was to leave his anger behind him at the Table. But to bury his hate till the next day, and to lay up a past injury, and keep it in fresh memory, is neither Kingly, nor like a God. For take away from Banquet's wit, breaking of Jests, putting of Tricks, Jeers, Comical abuses, and laughter, and nothing will remain but drunkenness, surfeits and silence; Things dull and unpleasant, and misbecoming a Feast. ay, therefore, could not imagine jupiter could have remembered things the next day; much less have proved so Choleric, or taken matters so heinous, if in the division of a little flesh, one should make sport with him, and make trial whither he knew how to choose the better part. But put the worst, Mercury, that I gave him not the lesser piece, but deceived him of all; must he therefore (according to the proverb) bring heaven and earth together, and project fetters, Crosses, whole mountains, and Eagles to devour my liver? Look if such proceedings as these do not betray great weakness, and poorness of Spirit, and inclination to revenge. If he do thus for a little beef, what would he have done for the loss of a whole Ox? Mortal men deal much discreetlier in the like cases, than so; who should be proner to, wrath than the Gods. For never any yet crucified his Cook, for dipping his finger in the sauce, and licking it; or for cutting a slice of beef from the spit, and eating it: but rather pardoned him; or if he were very angry, gave him only a cuff on the ear, or a blow on the cheek. But never any was crucified for things of this light nature. And thus much be spoken concerning the flesh; a matter unworthy of my defence, but much unworthier of his complaint. I proceed to speak next of my workmanship, and Creation of men: which falling under a twofold charge, I know not, Mercury, of which you accuse me most; whither because it was not fit for men to be made at all, but to have lain unformed, and the Earth to have remained unoccupied; or because they should have been made otherwise, and of another shape, and Figure. I shall easily reply to both; and will first endeavour to prove that the production of men is no hurt or damage to the Gods; next that 'tis of much more convenience and advantage to them, then that the earth should lie desolate, and unpeopled, whereby it will plainly appear, whither I have offended in my graceful formation of men, the only creature of a divine and heavenly race. For the earth was a rude, shapeless thing, grown over with thickets, and dark woods: the Gods had neither Altars, nor Temples, nor Images, nor statues; who are now every where adored with much reverence. I therefore (for 'twas ever my care to provide for the common, and to advance the honour of the Gods, and to project things of ornament and beauty) did cast with myself, whither I could do better than take a piece of clay, and form Creatures like us Gods, in visage and figure. For this, methought, was wanting to our Divinity; that there was not a contrary, or foil, which set in Comparison with us; might set off our felicity: which nevertheless was to be some mortal thing, though otherwise most ingenious, understanding, and sensible of the best things. At length, according to that saying of the Poet, mixing earth with water, and working it into a soft mortar, I framed men; requesting Pallas to assist me in my work. This is my great offence against the Gods: and how great my punishment is you see, only because, forsooth, I raised creatures out of Clay, and gave motion to a thing which before moved not. And as if the Gods were the less Gods, because there are mortals on earth, therefore jupiter is thus displeased, thinking the number of the Gods diminished by the production of men: unless he be afraid lest they should attempt a rebellion, and make war upon the Gods, as the Giants did. 'Tis plain then, Mercury, that there is no fault either in me, or my workmanship. If you can show any though never so small, I will be silent, and will think I suffer deservedly. But that the Gods are hereby much benefitted, you may easily learn, if you be hold the Earth no longer untilled or unmanured, but adorned with Cities, Agricultures, and generous plantations; the Sea navigated; Lands inhabited; Altars every where erected, sacrifices offered, Temples and solemnities frequented; streets filled with jupiter, and markets with men. Had I made this Creature for myself only, I had been the wealthiest of all the Gods. But I wrought for the public, and for the rest; especially for jupiter, Apollo, and you Mercury; whose Temples are every where to be seen, but not one for Prometheus. Can you, then, at all perceive, that I have considered myself, and have diminished or taken from the Common? Tell me, Mercury, can you think possessions desirable without a spectator; or any piece of workmanship pleasant, or delightful to the owner, if not seen and praised? which I therefore say, because if men had not been made, the beauty of the Universe had lacked a witness, and we should have possessed riches neither admired by others, nor valued by ourselves: Nor should we have wherewithal to comfort ourselves, or understand how happy we are, did we not see others void of our condition. Thus great things seem great by their comparison with less. But you, who ought to have honoured me for this public service, have rewarded my endeavours and studies with a Crosse. But, say you, there are great malefactors among them, Adulterers, Rebels, men that marry their sisters, and plot against their parents. As if there were not the like among us, and that heaven might not be accused as well as the Earth, for producing us. But, you will say, there is a burden cast upon us to take care of their affairs. For the same reason a shepherd may count it a Burden that he hath a flock, because he is troubled to look after it. Though, indeed, this very trouble be seasoned with pleasure, and this care be delightful in the exercise. Besides, how should we spend our time, if there were none to busy our providence? Sat idle, and do nothing but drink Nectar, and stuff ourselves with Ambrosia? But that which vexes me most is, that you inveigh most against me for making women, and yet love them, and are still descending to them, sometimes like Bulls, sometimes like Satyrs, sometimes like swans, and are content to make them Goddesses. But, say you, 'twas fit men should be made, but after another manner, and not like us. What other pattern should I propose to myself, then that which I knew to be most excellent? unless I should have made a witless, beastly, rustic creature. Besides, had they not been as they are, how should they sacrifice to us, or give us due honours? You, when you are invited to Hecatombs, can sail sometimes the whole length of the Ocean, to the faultless Aethiopians. But you crucify the Author of your honours, and sacrifices. And let this suffice to be spoken concerning men. I now pass on to the heinous stealth of fire. Answer me without delay in the behalf of the Gods, have we lost any fire since it came among men? you cannot say we have; since 'tis the nature of this Element not to decrease by communication, nor is one flame extinguished by the kindling of another. 'Tis plain envy, then, to forbid the necessary use of those things which take nothing from us; whereas it becomes the Gods to be gracious, givers of good things, and free from all envy. But suppose I had stolen all your fire, and conveyed it to the Earth, I had not wronged you much; for you need it not, being neither cold, nor accustomed to boil your Ambrosia, nor used to the supply of an Artificial light; but to men fire is necessary, as for other uses, so especially for their sacrifices; not able else to perfume your temples, or to send you up clouds of incense, or burn their oblations on your Altars. Besides, I observe you are much delighted with their smoke, and much pleased with the smell, when a cloud of perfume ascends to heaven; you condemn then what you desire. Lastly I wonder you forbid not the Sun to shine, whose fire is much diviner, and hotter than mine; or that you blame him not for spending your treasure. I have said. If I have spoken amiss, I would have you, Mercury, and Vulcan, correct or disprove me, and I will make a second reply.  Mercury. 
'Tis hard, Prometheus, to contend with so generous a Sophister. But you may be glad jupiter heard you not; who doubtless had sent sixteen Vultures to devour your entrails, so grievously have you accused him in your own defence. I marvel, being a prophet, you did not foresee your punishment.  Prometheus. 
I did, Mercury; and do also presage that ere long a friend of yours shall come from Thebes, and shall shoot the eagle, which you say is to light upon me.  Mercury. 
I wish to see it, Prometheus; and that you were released, and making merry with us again, but not dividing a sacrifice.  Prometheus. 
Be confident I shall once more feast with You, and jupiter for his no small happiness shall release me.  Mercury. 
What mean you? speak clearly.  Prometheus. 
You know Thetis, Mercury. But I forbear to say more; 'tis better to keep thee secret, till it bring me a reward for my punishment.  Mercury. 
Do as you think best Prometheus: let us depart, Vulcan; the Eagle is coming: expect you a while, Prometheus, for the Theban Archer, you spoke of, to come and ease you of the Fowls tortures.   

A Dialogue between Prometheus and Jupiter.  Promet. 
RElease me now, jupiter, for I have been miserably tortured.  jupiter. 
Release thee, sayest thou, who deservest more shackles, and that all Caucasus should be laid upon thy head, and that thy liver should not only be gnawn by sixteen Vultures, but that thine eyes should be digged out, for making such Creatures as men, and women, and for stealing fire? I forbear to mention the cheat you put upon me, at the division of flesh, allotting me bones covered with fat, and keeping the best for yourself.  Prometheus. 
But I have felt sufficient punishment, having thus long been chained to Caucasus, and fed an eagle, the cruelest, and worst of fowls, with my liver.  jupiter. 
This is the least part of what you ought to suffer.  Prometheus. 
But you shall not release me gratis, jupiter. I will reveal a secret which much concerns you.  jupiter. 
You play the sophister with me, Prometheus.  Prometheus. 
What shall I get by it? if I deceive you, you know where Caucasus stands, and want no fetters.  jupiter. 
First tell me what ransom you will give me?  Prometheus. 
If I tell you where you are now going, will you believe my other Divinations?  jupiter. 
How can I choose?  Prometheus. 
You are going then to lie with Thetis.  jupiter. 
Well; and what more? hitherto you have guest right.  Prometheus. 
Have nothing to do jupiter, with that sea Goddess; For if she conceive by thee, the child will just deal with thee, as thou dealest with Saturn.  jupiter. 
Not expel me my Kingdom, I hope?  Prometheus. 
I wish he may not, jupiter But your copulation with her threatens as much.  jupiter. 
Farewell Thetis, then. Vulcan, Prometheus, shall strike off thy shackles.   

A Dialogue between Jupiter and Cupid.  Cupid. 
IF I have offended pardon me, jupiter, who am yet a child and lack wit.  jupiter. 
Art thou a child, Cupid, who art much older than japetus? or being so aged and cunning as thou art, wouldst thou be thought a child because thou hast not a beard, or grey hairs?  Cupid. 
As old as thou sayest I am, wherein have I wronged thee, that thou goest about to bind me?  jupiter. 
Consider, thou Varlet, if it be a small matter to make me thy pastime, since there is nothing into which thou hast not transformed me, a Satire, a Bull, a Shower of gold, a Swan, an Eagle: and yet never madest any woman love me again; no not my own wife. But I was still fain to Court them in borrowed shapes, and to disguise my ●elfe. And those who were enamoured of a Bull, or Swan, if they saw me in my likeness, died for fear.  Cupid. 
And justly. Forty presence, jupiter, is too glorious for mortals.  jupiter. 
How come Branchus, and Hyacinthus, then to love Apollo?  Cupid. 
But Daphne fled from him, for all his bright hair and smooth chin. If, therefore, thou wouldst be loved, shake not thy target, and carry no lightning; But make thyself amiable, by letting thy locks on both sides hang curled and encircled with a mitre; wear purple robes, golden shoes, and dance gracefully to the pipe, or flute, and thou shalt see more will follow thee, then frantic women Bacchus.  jupiter. 
No more, Boy. I would not thus effeminate myself to be beloved.  Cupid. 
Then you must leave off wenching, jupiter. 'Tis no hard matter.  jupiter. 
I will not; and yet I will enjoy with less trouble; and so for this time do let thee go.   

A Dialogue between Apollo and Vulcan.  Vulcan. 
APollo, have you seen Maia's new born child, what a pretty infant 'tis, and smiles upon every body, and promises much to expectation?  Apollo. 
Call you him an Infant, Vulcan, or imagine he will prove good, who for his Juggling is elder than japetus?  Vulcan. 
Whom could he cheat, being but newly born?  Apollo. 
Ask Neptune, whose Trident he stole; or Mars who lost his sword out of his scabbard; I could tell you too, how he robbed me of my bow and arrows.  Vulcan. 
One new born to do this, scarce able to go, and in his swaddling clouts?  Apollo. 
Observe him, if ever he come to your shop Vulcan.  Vulcan. 
He hath been here already.  Apollo. 
And have you all your Tools? none lost?  Vulcan. 
Not one, Apollo.  Apollo. 
But search diligently.  Vulcan. 
By Jove, I miss my tongs.  Apollo. 
But you shall find them among his clouts.  Vulcan. 
Are his fingers so quick, as if he studied the every in the womb?  Apollo. 
Do you not mark how talkative and voluble he is? He will needs be our messenger. Yesterday he called Cupid to him, and in wrestling, I know not how, tripped up his heels. And while Venus praised him, and would have hugged him for his victory, he stole her girdle; whereat jupiter laughing he filched his sceptre. And had it not been too heavy and fiery, had stolen his lightning also.  Vulcan. 
This is a nimble youth, indeed.  Apollo. 
He is a Musician too.  Vulcan. 
How d' you know?  Apollo. 
He found a dead Tortoise some where, and made a Lute of it; so ordering and disposing the pins, laying bars and covering them with a belly, then applying strings, that he plays most harmoniously; even to my envy, who have always exercised my harp. His mother says he stays not in heaven by night, but that he may be nimming, goes down to hell, and pilfers thereto. He was borne with wings, and hath made himself a rod, of strange force, wherewith he musters souls, and leads the dead.  Vulcan. 
I gave it him in stead of a Rattle.  Apollo. 
And for recompense he stole your tongues.  Vulcan. 
'Tis well remembered. I'll fetch them again; and see if I can find them, as you say, among his Clouts.   

A Dialogue between Jupiter, and Vulcan.  Vulcan. 
WHat am I to do now, jupiter? here I am come at your command, and have brought an Axe sharp enough to cleave a stone at a blow.  jupiter. 
'Tis well done, Vulcan; prithee strike hard, and cleave my head asunder.  Vulcan. 
D' you think I am mad? speak truly, therefore, what you will have me do.  jupiter. 
Divide my scull, I say. If thou refuse, thou shalt perceive this is not the first time I have been angry: strike with all thy might, therefore, and make no dela●es; For I am ready to die with the torments which whirl my head about.  Vulcan. 
Take heed jupiter, I hurt you not, For my Axe is sharp, and will not; like Lucina, be your midwife without blood.  jupiter. 
Strike boldly, Vulcan, I know what's fit.  Vulcan. 
Against my will, then, since you are not to be disobeyed, have at your scull. What's this? An armed wench? I blame you not jupiter, for storming, being molested with such a head Ache, and lodging in your brain a Girl alive, and armed; your head was not a head, but a Camp. Look she caper's, and dances the Matachine; clashes her buckler, and shakes her spear, as if she were divinely possessed; nay, which is more she is grown handsome, and full statured of a sudden; blew eyed, but her helmet turns that to beauty: wherefore jupiter, as the reward of my midwifery, let her be my wife.  jupiter. 
Thou dost ask impossibilities, Vulcan; she resolves to live a Virgin: how ever I will not be thy hindrance.  Vulcan. 
'Tis all I desire, leave the rest to me. I will ravish her away with me.  jupiter. 
Do if thou canst; but I know thou lovest an Impossible.   

A Dialogue between Jupiter, Aesculapius, and Hercules.  jupiter. 
CEase Aesculapius, and Hercules, to quarrel like mortals; such discords misbecome the meetings of the Gods.  Hercules. 
Shall this quacksalver then, jupiter, sit down before me?  Aesculapius. 
Yes, Sir, being your better.  Hercules. 
Wherein, good Thunderstruck? Because jupiter for your knavery once slew you with lightning, and afterwards out of pity restored you your immortality?  Aesculap. 
Have you forgot, Hercules, how you yourself were burnt in Oeta, that you lay fire in my dish?  Hercules. 
Le's compare the Actions of our lives; I am jupiters' Son, have undergone famous labours, vanquished monsters, and subdued barbarous men: thou root-scraper, and Mountebank, able perchance to administer Physic to sick folk, art not famous for any manly performance.  Aesculap. 
'Tis true, Sir, I have only cured your scalds, when you came up to us half burnt, and your body almost turned to oinders by your Coat, and woodpile. Yet 'tis something that I never was a servingman, like you; and that I never spun at a distaff, as you did in Lydia, when you wore a scarlet petticoat, and suffered your mistress Omphale to correct you with her golden slipper; and that in a fit of madness I slew not my wife, and children.  Hercules. 
Stop your fowl language, Sir, or your immortality shall not secure you, for I will cast you down headlong from heaven, and dash out your brains so as Phoebus shall not cure them.  jupiter. 
Give over, I say, and disturb not the feast; or I will banish you both from the Table. 'Tis fit, Hercules, Aesculapius should sit before you, who died before you.   

A Dialogue between Juno and Jupiter.  juno. 
I should blush, jupiter, to have such a Son, so effeminate and lost in wine: who wears a Mitre, lies with mad women, more womanish than they; dances after Timbrels, Pipes, and Cimbales; and resembles every body more than you his Father.  jupiter. 
This Miter-wearer, and wencher, juno, not only subdued Lydia, and the Inhabitants of Tmolus; as also the Thracians; but went against the Indians, with his female Army, took their Elephants, possessed their Country, and brought away their King, who made resistance, captive. And all this he did revelling and dancing, and carrying rods twined with Ivye, and drunk, as you say, and beside himself. But those who reviled him, or blasphemed his rites, either he punished with shackles of Vines, or caused to be dismembered, by their mothers, like Fawns. Are not those valiant Acts, and worthy of me his Father? Nor let it be any disparagement that he mingled Masks, and Revellings with his Conquests; But rather consider what he would do sober, who can do thus drunk.  juno. 
Me thinks, Husband, you should have made a panegyrics of his invention of Grapes, and wine. Though you see how men reel when they are drunk, and incline to quarrels, and forget themselves in their drink▪ and how that Icarius, to whom he first taught the use of Vines, was killed by his Companions, and slain with pitchforks.  jupiter. 
This is nothing to the purpose: For 'tis not Wine, or Bacchus which do this, but the excess of wine, and drink taken in beyond fit measure. But whosoever drinks moderately is cheered, and made the merrier. And as for Icarius it wrought not so upon any of his Company. But you show your jealousy, juno, and spleen to Semele, when you accuse Bacchus of those things which are most commendable.   

A Dialogue between Venus and Cupid.  Venus. 
Why, Love, dost thou Conquer all the other Gods, jove, Neptune, Apollo, juno, and me thy mother, and spare Minerva; towards whom thy Torch is flamelesse, thy quiver empty, thou without a Bow, and unable to shoot?  Cupid. 
I am afraid of her, mother; she is so terrible, of such a stern countenance, and of such a manly grimness; so that when I draw my bow, and aim at her, she shakes her plume, and so astonishes me, that I begin to tremble, and my arrow drops out of my hand.  Venus. 
Is not Mars more terrible? and yet thou hast disarmed and conquered him.  Cupid. 
He willingly meets my shafts, and invites them, Mother; but Minerva perpetually frowns. I once unawares brought my Torch near her. If you approach me, quoth she, by my Father, i'll thrust you through with my javelin, or take you by the leg, and hurl you down to hell, or piecemeal you. Many such threats came from her. Besides she looks fiery, and wears on her Breast a Gorgon's head, haired with snakes, which much affrights me, and makes me run away at the sight.  Venus. 
Thou sayest thou fearest Minerva, and her Gorgon, But fearest not Ioves lightning. But how come the Muse's impenetrable, and beyond your shafts? Do they shake their Crests too, and wear their Gorgon's.  Cupid. 
These I reverence, mother, for they are venerable, and are always busied in contemplations, or songs; so that many times I frequent their company, taken with their Music.  Venus. 
You spare these, then, because of their Gravity; but why wound you not Diana?  Cupid. 
To satisfy you in a word, I can never find her but always wand'ring in mountains. Besides, she loves a Cupid of her own already.  Venus. 
What Cupid? my Boy.  Cupid. 
Marry, to hunt, and shoot wild beasts, stags' and Fawns; which is her whole study. But as for her brother, though he be an Archer, and shoot well.  Venus. 
Yet thou, my Boy, hast shot him often.   

A Dialogue between Mars, and Mercury.  Mars. 
DId you hear, Mercury, what proud, absurd threats fell from jupiter? ay, said He, if it please me, will let down a chain from Heaven, at which, pull you never so hard, you shall never draw me down: But if I list to pluck, I will not only draw you, but the Earth, and Sea aloft; with many the like brags, which you heard as well as I. For my part I should not deny him to be superior, and stronger than any one: But that singly he should excel so many, as that we should not be able to weigh against him, though we took the Earth and Sea into our scale, is past my belief.  Mercury. 
Good words, Mars, 'tis not safe to speak thus; lest your petulancy procure your punishment.  Mars. 
D'ye think, I would speak thus to any but yourself, whom I know to be no tell-tale. 'Twas not in my power to conceal from thee, how ridiculous, me-thought, his threatening was. For I remembered, how not long since, when Neptune, juno, and Pallas, being but three, conspired to imprison, and cast him into chains, how fearfully he varied himself through all shapes: And if Thetis out of pity, had not called that hundred handed Briareus to his aid, they had bound him for all his Thunder and Lightning.  Mercury. 
No more, Mars: 'tis neither safe for you to talk thus, nor me to hear.   

A Dialogue between Jupiter and the Sun.  jupiter. 
WHat hast thou done, thou most wicked of all the Titans? who hast utterly ruined the world by trusting thy Chariot to a witless boy, who hath burnt some things by falling too near the Earth, and starved others with cold, by withdrawing their Fire from them; And in a word hath left nothing undisturbed, and undisordered. So that had not I, beholding his Careers, Thunderstruck him, not a man had been left. And this skilful Coachman and Driver, was of your sending forth.  Sun. 
I was to blame, jupiter; yet pray be not angry, since I was over-borne by my Son's importunity. Alas how could I foresee the mischief which followed.  jupiter. 
Did you not know what skill your place requires? And that upon the least aberration of your Wheels all perishes? You knew not neither the fierceness of your Horses, and that they are to be hard rained. For give them Bridle, they presently alter course; just as they hurried him sometimes to the left hand, sometimes to the right, sometimes quite contrary, now up, now down, as they list themselves, he not knowing how to manage them.  Sun. 
I knew all this, and withstood him a good while, and denied him my Teem. But when he joined tears to his petition, & Clymene his Mother with him, I set him fast in the Box, and taught him how to drive; telling him how high he was to mount, and how low he was to fall; as also how to rein his horses, and curb their furies▪ I told him also the danger should he drive wrong: But he, child as he was, having mounted so much fire, and beholding such a vast dungeon beneath him, could not choose but be amazed; whilst the horses missing their usual driver despised the Boy, and fell a wand'ring, and wrought all this mischief. He letting go the reins, and fearful, I believe, to fall, took hold of the Chariot: but he hath suffered already, and my sorrow jupiter is punishment enough for me.  jupiter. 
Enough for such an attempt? Well, I pardon you for once; But offend so again, and send forth such another Deputy, and you shall feel how much hotter my lightning is than your fire. Let his sisters also bury him near the Po, where he fell, and let them be turned into Poplars, and weep Amber over him. Be it your business to mend your Chariot, (for the Axle is broken, and one of the wheels is cracked) and having coupled your horses again drive yourself: and remember this Accident.   

A Dialogue between a Cyclops and Neptune.  Cyclops. 
O Father, how am I served by my wicked Guest, who first made me drunk, then assaulting me in my sleep put out my eye!  Neptune. 
Who was't that dared this Polyphemus?  Cyclops. 
First he said his name was Nobody; but after his escape, when he was out of shot, he called himself Ulysses.  Neptune. 
I know who you mean; he lives at Ithaca, and sailed now from Troy. But how could he attempt this, being such a Coward?  Cyclops. 
Coming home from my stock, I found a great Troop in my Cave, in all likelihood lurking to steal my sheep: whereupon I bolted my door, made of a huge rock, and kindled a fire. No sooner began the wood, which I brought from the mountain, to cast a flame, but they prepared to hide themselves. But I apprehending some of them, devoured them as thiefs. In the mean time that subtle Companion, Nobody, or Ulysses, which you will, gave me a venomous potion to drink, very sweet and fragrant, but most treacherous, and turbulent in operation. For I had no sooner drunk, but me-thought my Cave went round, and I was no longer myself; and at last fell into a deep sleep: he sharpening a Bar and stirring the fire, put out my eye, and ever since, Neptune, I have been blind.  Neptune. 
You slept sound, my son, that the loss of your sight could not rouse you. But how scap't Ulysses? Methinks he should not be able to roll away the rock from the door.  Cyclops. 
I removed it, that I might the easier catch him going out. And planting myself at the hole, I groped with my hands, letting only my sheep pass, remitting my business to my Ram.  Neptune. 
Now I know his Device: he passed under thee among them unperceived. But methinks you might have called in other Cyclops.  Cyclops. 
I did, and they came, and asked me the traitor's name. And when I told them, Nobody, they thought me mad and departed: and so the Caitiff cozened me with a false name. But that which grieves me most is, that upbraiding me with my hurt, he told me my Father Neptune should not cure me.  Neptune. 
Take courage, son, I will revenge thee. And and he shall know, that though I cannot heal eyes bored out, yet 'tis in my power to save or drown those that sail. He is yet at Sea.   

A Dialogue between Alpheus and Neptune.  Neptune. 
what's the reason, Alpheus, that of all the rivers which fall into the Sea, you only, contrary to the courses of the rest, grow not salt, nor mingle waters, or diffuse yourself; but gliding through the Ocean preserve your stream fresh, untainted, and pure; in some places, I know not how, diving like a sea pie, or Heron, and rising again in other places, and showing yourself?  Alpheus. 
These are love tricks, Neptune; Therefore blame me not, you have loved in your time.  Neptune. 
Is't a woman you love, Alpheus, or a Nymph, or some sea Goddess?  Alpheus. 
None of these Neptune, but a Fountain.  Neptune. 
Where springs it?  Alpheus. 
In the Island of Sicily; they call it Arethusa.  Neptune. 
I know it: believe me, Alpheus, you have not made an unlovely choice. 'Tis a clear spring, and flows in a pure Crystal; and receives thus much ornament from the pebbles among which it rises, that it shows like a pool of silver over them.  Alpheus. 
I see you know it, Neptune; To it am I now going.  Neptune. 
Go; and be happy in your love: but first tell me one thing, where did you see Arethusa, you being an Arcadian, and she rising near Syracuse?  Alpheus. 
You hinder my journey, Neptune, by your impertinent questions.  Neptune. 
You say well; pass on to your beloved; and when you rise again from the Sea, mingle with your fountain in one Channel, and become one Stream.   

A Dialogue between Menelaus and Proteus.  Menelaus. 
THat you should be converted into water, Proteus', is not incredible, for you are a Sea God; or into a tree, may be borne withal; or sometimes into a Lion, is not utterly beyond belief: But how, living in the Ocean, you can transform yourself into a flame, is a thing which I admire, but believe not.  Proteus, 
Marvel not, Menelaus', for all those changes I undergo.  Menelaus. 
I have seen you. But, then, me-thought (as I may say to you) you juggled only by drawing false presentments over your tricks, and casting a mist before your spectators eyes; not that you truly were what you appeared.  Proteus. 
What juggling could there be in things so plainly done? Have not you seen with your eyes open into how many shapes I have transformed myself? If you will not believe that sense, but will still think you saw a delusion, or some Aery appearance cast before you, when I next turn myself into fire, apply, generous Sir, your sense of touch to me, and then you will perceive whether I be true fire, or fire in show.  Menelaus. 
That would be no safe trial, Proteus.  Proteus. 
In my opinion, Menelaus, you never saw a Polypus; nor understand the transformation of that fish.  Menelaus. 
A Polypus I have seen, but would gladly learn its transformation from you.  Proteus. 
To whatsoever rock it fastens, or spreads its fins, it becomes like; and throwing off its own, assumes the colour of the stone; thereby lying concealed from fishermen, not at all differing, or varying in appearance from the rock.  Menelaus. 
So the report goes: but yours, Proteus, is a Paradox much unlikelier.  Proteus. 
I know not, Menelaus', whom you will believe, who will not believe your own eyes.  Menelaus. 
I saw what I saw; yet 'tis a thing to me prodigious, how you should become fire and water.   

A Dialogue between Neptune, and a Dolphin.  Neptune. 
'tIs well done of you Dolphins, that you are such friends to men. For heretofore you carried the son of Inus ashore the Isthmus, after he and his mother were cast down from the Scironian Cliff; now thou hast wasted a Musician of Methymna, over to Taenarus, keeping his Furniture, and Harp, and hast not suffered him to perish by the Sailors.  Dolphin. 
Wonder not, Neptune, that we secure men thus; we of Men were made Fishes.  Neptune. 
'Tis a thing I blame Bacchus for, that having overcome you in a Sea fight, he transformed you; whereas it had been enough to have taken you prisoners, and to have subdued you as he did others. But how, good Dolphin, came Arion to be thus endangered?  Dolphin. 
Periander (as I imagine) delighted with his skill sent for him often. He being enriched by the King, desired to sail home to Methymna, to show his riches, shipping himself with a crew of Pirates, who knew he carried much gold and silver about him: when they came about the middle of the Arches, the Sailors conspired against him. Well, quoth he (for I heard all swimming near the Ship) since you intent to kill me, permit me in my bravest furniture to play mine own funeral Elegy, and voluntarily to cast myself into the Sea. They consented. And he taking his robe, and playing most ravishingly, cast himself overboard, with a purpose to drown himself. But I receiving him, and getting him on my back swum with him to the Promontory.  Neptune. 
I applaud your love to Music; 'Twas a fit reward for your Attention.   

A Dialogue between Diogenes and Pollux.  Diogenes. 
I Charge you, Pollux, assoon as you are risen (for to morrow I perceive 'tis your course to return to life) that if you see Menippus the dog, (whom you shall find in the Schools at Corinth, or in the Lycaeum at Athens, laughing at Philosophers wrangling with one another,) you tell him, that if he have laughed enough at the passages of the upper world, I desire him to come down into the Lower; where he shall have much more to laugh at. For there our proceedings, which he laughs at, are doubtful to him, and he meets with this frequent objection, Who knows what shall befall us after the end of this Life. But here tell him, he shall never want sport▪ But laugh as I do, as often I see rich men, great Officers, and Tyrants humble and unrespected, and not to be distinguished but by their unmanly degenerous howl, at the remembrance of their life past. Tell him this, and bid him bring a knapsack with him filled with beans, and a supper (if he can find one) made for Hecate in some cross way; or an egg, left after a lustration; or the like.  Pollux. 
I'll deliver your Message, Diogenes; But for my better knowledge of him, what kind of man is't?  Diogenes. 
A little, crabbed, old man, inclining to baldness; wearing a torn Gown, pervious to all winds, and varied with patches of several colours. He always laughs, especially at selfconceited Philosophers.  Pollux. 
'Twill be easy to find one of this Character.  Diogenes. 
Will you carry a Message from me to those arrogant Philosophers too?  Pollux. 
Speak your Errand, it shall not be any trouble to serve you.  Diogenes. 
In short, then, Counsel them to trifle no longer, nor to dispute of wholes, nor cast one another into Dilemmas or horned syllogisms, nor give form and mood to Crocodiles; nor breed their minds to such dry barren studies.  Pollux. 
But they will say I am ignorant and unbred thus to condemn their wisdom.  Diogenes. 
Bid 'em, then, from me Live scorned.  Pollux. 
So much I shall tell them.  Diogenes. 
Say to Rich men in my name, Why ye fools do you treasure up your gold? and why do you torment yourselves, by counting your use money, and laying talon to talon, who are shortly to come hither but with a penny fare in your mouth?  Pollux. 
I shall tell them this also.  Diogenes. 
Tell the spruce Gallants, and Hector's, Megillus the Corinthian, I mean, and Damoxenus the Wrestler, that here is no use of golden hair, black eyes, or red cheeks; or of big sinews, or strong shoulders.  Pollux. 
It shall not be burdensome to deliver this also.  Diogenes. 
Bid the poor who are many, driven from their estates, and groaning under their wants, that they neither weep nor howl, but that they consider the equality of this place, and that they shall see the richest here as poor as they. And if you think fit tell the Lacedæmonians, that they are grown loose and effeminate.  Pollux. 
Pray excuse me for the carriage of your message to my Countrymen, Diogenes; your errands to the rest I will deliver.  Diogenes. 
Leave them out, then, it you think good; and convey my speeches to the rest.   

Pluto, or a Complaint against Menippus.  The Speakers, Croesus, Pluto, Menippus, Midas, Sardanapalus. Croesus. 
'tIs not possible for us to endure, Pluto, this insufferable Barker Menippus to be of our company. Therefore remove him hence, or we will depart some where else.  Pluto. 
What hurt can he do to you, being dead as you are?  Croesus. 
When we howl, and sigh at the memory of our pleasures in the other world, Midas of his gold, Sardanapalus of his Luxury, I of my treasures; he laughs and upbraids us, calling us slaves, and base villains: sometimes he drowns our howl with singing, and in a word he is very troublesome.  Pluto. 
What say you to this, Menippus?  Menippus. 
'tis all true. These men I hate as degenerous and lost; who think it not enough to have lived wickedly, but remember and dwell upon the thought of those things above. Therefore I delight to plague them with themselves.  Pluto. 
But you do ill; for they lament no small losses.  Menippus. 
Are you mad too, Pluto, that you approve their whinings?  Pluto. 
No, Sir. But I would not have you divide yourselves.  Menippus. 
Know this, O ye worst of Lydians, Phrygians and Assyrians, that I will never leave you; but wheresoever you go I will follow, vexing you, and singing, and laughing.  Croesus. 
Is not this plain Contumely?  Menippus. 
No. That was contumely which you usually practised, suffering yourselves to be adored, and abusing free people; not at all remembering your mortality: wherefore howl, now you have lost all.  Croesus. 
Where are my rich and Numerous possessions?  Midas. 
How much gold do I miss?  Sardanapalus. 
And I how much pleasure?  Menippus. 
So, this I like: weep on; I'll join with you, and sing the old sentence, Know thyself. A fit ditty to be mingled with your mournings.   

A Dialogue between Pluto and Mercury.  Pluto. 
DO you know old Eucrates the usurer, who has not one child, but five thousand Gapers after his estate?  Mercury. 
The Sicyonian you mean; what of him?  Pluto. 
Let him live, Mercury, ninety years more to the ninety he hath lived already, and longer if it be possible. But fetch hither his flatterers, young Charinus, and Damon, and the rest.  Mercury. 
That would show very preposterous.  Pluto. 
Rather very just. For why do they pray so earnestly for his death, but that they may enjoy his estate? But that which is yet most base, is that at that very time when they wish his Death, they grossly observe, and Court him; And when he is sick, all men know what they desire, yet they vow sacrifices for his recovery. In a word, they have several ways of flattery. Wherefore let him be immortal, and let them die first, and lose their gapings.  Mercury. 
Well, being such knaves their punishment shall be ridiculous: But methinks he lures them on pretty handsomely, and feeds them with hopes; always dissembling, as if he were about to die, when he is much lustier than his Flatterers. They in the mean time dividing the inheritance among them, are fed with the Image of a Fantastic happiness:  Pluto. 
Let him therefore, like jolaus, cast off his old age, and grow young again. But let them in the midst of their hopes, be snatch away as it were in a golden dream, and like evil men die evil deaths.  Mercury. 
Enough Pluto. I will send them to you one after another. I think they are seven.  Pluto. 
Call forth their souls, Mercury; and let him send them every one hither before him: but let him of an old man become a youth.   

A Dialogue between Terpsion, and Pluto.  Terpsion. 
IS this Justice, Pluto, that I should die, who am but thirty years old, and that Thucritus, who is almost an hundred, should live?  Pluto. 
Great Justice, Terpsion; For though he lives, yet he wishes none of his friends dead; whereas you all the time you lived, laid nets for his estate.  Terpsion. 
Was't not fit, being an old man, and no longer able to use his riches, he should die, and leave them to those that are younger?  Pluto. 
You make new laws, Terpsion, that when a man can no longer use his riches with pleasure, he ought to die. Fate and Nature decree otherwise.  Terpsion. 
I accuse them, therefore, of disorder. For the business ought to run in this succession: The most aged to die first, than those who are next in years; And not to be inverted, or he to live who is decrepit, hath but three teeth left, scarce sees, is supported by four servants, distils at nose, hath eyes filled with rheum, hath lost all sense of pleasure, and is laughed at by boys as a living sepulchre; and the most beautiful, and lustiest young men to die. This is to make rivers run backwards. At lest 'twere fit we knew the date of old men's lives, that they might not cousin us as they do. But now the old Proverb is brought to pass, the Cart leads the Ox.  Pluto. 
These things are wiselier carried, Terpsion, than you are aware of. For what ails you, that you yawn after other men's fortunes, and enslave yourselves to childless old men? you do, therefore, but make yourselves ridiculous, and they bury you first; which to many is metre of great pleasure; for just as you prayed for their deaths, so much delight is it to others to have you die first. For you have introduced a new Art, to make love to old women, and old men, especially to those who have no children neglecting those that have; whilst many of those who are courted by you, well acquainted with your aims, if they chance to have children, pretend to hate them, that they may have observers. At length those who had for a long time wasted themselves in gifts, are shut out of the will, and the son, as there is good reason, enjoys all: the rest cheated of their hopes gnash their teeth.  Terpsion. 
You speak truth. Thucritus hath almost quite eaten my estate; still making me believe he would die. And as often as I came to visit him, he would groan, and sob inwardly, and counterfeit a noise like an abortive chick in the shell; wherefore by how much the nearer I thought him to his grave, so many gifts the more did I send him; lest his other flatterers should exceed me in presents: many nights have my cares taken my sleep from me, numbering and disposing my fortunes. And indeed care, and watching were the causes of my death: whilst he having swallowed my bait, assisted at my funeral, and went before my beer laughing.  Pluto. 
Mayst thou live eternally, Thucritus, to grow rich, and laugh at such men. And mayst thou not die, till thou have sent hither all thy flatterers before thee.  Terpsion. 
It would be a pleasure to me too, Pluto, if Chariades should die before Thucritus.  Pluto. 
Take comfort, Terpsion; Phido, Melantus, and all the rest shall die before him of their Cares.  Terpsion. 
This I like. Live eternally Thucritus.   

A Dialogue between Zenophantes, and Callidemides.  Zenoph. 
BUt how died you, Callidemides? you know I, being Dinias' parasite, did overeat myself, and was choked with a surfeit: you stood by when I died.  Called. 
I did, Zenophantes. I died unexpectedly: you know old Ptaeodorus.  Zenoph. 
You mean the rich Usurer, who hath no child, whose house you always frequented.  Called. 
I always observed him, and flattered myself with his death: but when I saw my expectation prolonged, and that he began to be older than Tithon, I contrived a compendious way to gain his estate. For having bought poison, I dealt with his Butler, that when Ptaeodorus next called for drink (and he usually drinks deeply) he should steal it into the bowl, having it ready, and give it him; which if he did, I swore to make him a freeman.  Zenoph. 
And what happened? For me thinks you are about to tell a strange story.  Called. 
We went to bathe ourselves, where his Boy held two cups; one for Ptaeodorus, which held the poison, the other for me. But mistaking, I know not how, he gave the poison to me, and the sound cup to Ptaeodorus: who presently drunk it off; when at the instant I fell down dead, and excused his funeral with my own. Why do you smile Zenophantes? you do not well to laugh at your friend.  Zenoph. 
You have suffered things to he laughed at, Callidemides. But how looked the old man at your fall?  Called. 
First he was frighted with the Accident. But being informed, I believe, how things were, he laughed at what the Butler had done.  Zenoph. 
You did ill to make such short contrivances, for a thing which would in ordinary course much safelier have happened, had you made less haste.   

A Dialogue between Cnemon and Damnippus.  Cnemon. 
Why this is the old Proverb right, the Fawn beats the Lion.  Damnip. 
At what do you chafe, Cnemon?  Cnemon. 
At what do I chafe, do you ask? I have left an heir against my will, and am cozened, wretch that I am, and have undone my children.  Damnip. 
How I pray?  Cnemon. 
A little before my death, I applied myself much to the rich, childless Hermolaus; who took my Addresses not distastefully: and to show myself a wise fellow, I made my will, and published it, and left all my estate to him; expecting that out of imitation he should do the like to me.  Damnip. 
And what was your success?  Cnemon. 
What he wrote in his will, I know not; but I died suddenly by the fall of a house: since which time Hermolaus possesses my estate, like a Pike which carries away the hook with the bair.  Damnip. 
Nay, you the Angler and all: wherefore you made a gin for yourself.  Cnemon. 
It seems so, and therefore I now mourn.   

A Dialogue between Charon, Mercury, a company of dead men, Menippus, Charmoleus, Lampichus, Damasias, a Philosopher, and a Rhetorician.  Charon. 
Hear how the case stands with you: My Boat, as you see, is small, and rotten, and leaks in many places; And therefore if it be not equally trimmed, 'twill overturn. And yet so many of you together are come hither, every one with a great burden; which if you bring in with you, you will repent it, especially those who cannot swim.  The Dead. 
How shall we do then for safe waftage?  Charon. 
I'll tell you, you must enter naked, and leave your carriages upon the shore. And 'tis well if the Boat receive you all so. Be it your charge, Mercury, to admit none but such as are slender, and cast away their Luggage: stand therefore at the ladder, and receive them with choice, and compel them to enter stripped.  Mercury. 
I will obey your Directions. Who is the first?  Menippus. 
I am Menippus. Look Mercury I have cast my wallet and staff into the lake: as for gown, 'twas well I brought none.  Mercury. 
Enter Menippus, thou best of men, and take the first and highest place in the Boat; from whence thou may'st see the rest. But what spruce youth is this?  Charmoleus. 
I am Charmoleus, the lovely Megarian, who took two talents for a kiss.  Mercury. 
Cast off your beauty, and lips with their kisses, your long hair too, red cheeks, and whole skin? 'Tis well; you are now fit, enter▪ But what grim Sir is that, arrayed in Purple, and a Crown on his head?  Lampichus. 
I am Lampichus, Tyrant of Gela.  Mercury. 
Why thus loaden? Lampichus.  Lampichus. 
Should a Prince come naked? Mercury.  Mercury. 
A prince should not, but a dead man should. Therefore put off your ornaments.  Lampichus. 
There lie my riches.  Mercury. 
But you must cast off your pride; and stateliness too, Lampichus. For if these enter with you, they will overcharge the Boat.  Lampichus. 
Let me keep but my crown and robe.  Mercury. 
By no means, you must forsake them.  Lampichus. 
There then: what more? you see I have cast away all.  Mercury. 
You must cast off your cruelty too, and folly, and insolence, and fury, and the like.  Lampichus. 
See, I am naked.  Mercury. 
Now enter. What gross fleshy fellow are you?  Damasias. 
I am Damasias the wrestler.  Mercury. 
So methought, I have seen you often at wrestling.  Damasias. 
True, Mercury; receive me therefore naked.  Mercury. 
You are not naked, my friend, who are clothed with all this flesh; put it off therefore: for if you put but one foot into the boat, you sink it. Cast away your Crowns, and praises too.  Damas. 
See, I am naked, and slender, like other Ghosts.  Mercury. 
You are now of a fit lightness; therefore enter. Do you Crato throw away your wealth, as also your effeminateness, and pleasures; and bring not with you your Epitaphs, and titles of your Ancestors: leave behind you too your pedigree, and reputation, and panegyrics bestowed upon you by the City, to which you have been a benefactor; the inscriptions of your statues also. And speak not of the great tomb they have raised for you, for these things gather weight from their remembrance.  Crato. 
Well, I will put them off, because I cannot help it.  Mercury. 
Bless me! what armed? why do you carry that Trophy?  Crato. 
Because I conquered and achieved it, Mercury, and was therefore honoured by the City.  Mercury. 
Leave your arms to the Earth; there's only peace in Hell, and no need of Trophies there. But what venerable shade is that, of a grave presence, who knits his brows out of contemplation, and wears such a long beard?  Menippus. 
A Philosopher, Mercury; or rather a juggler, and cheater: pray strip him, and you will see many things very ridiculous hid under his gown.  Mercury. 
Lay aside your gown, Sir, and all things else. O jupiter! what arrogance, ignorance, contention, vainglory▪ endless questions, thorny disputes, intricate notions, fruitless labours, whimsies, trifles, and curious follies, he carried about him? Besides gold, and pleasures, and impudence, and choler, and wantonness, and luxury. These things scape not my knowledge, Sir, though you should strive to conceal them. Cast off your lying, also, and your pride, and your conceit that you are better than others. For if you enter thus burdened, a pinnace will scarce carry you.  Philosoph. 
I cast then all off, since 'tis your pleasure.  Menippus. 
Let him put off his beard too, Mercury; which you see is both long, and slovenly, and weighs at least five pound.  Philosopher. 
But who shall cut it?  Mercury. 
Menippus shall shave you with the axe that mends the boat, laying your beard upon the sides of the ladder.  Menippus. 
Not so, Mercury, 'twill be more ridiculous if you lend me a saw.  Mercury. 
An Axe will serve.  Menippus. 
So, you now look more like a man, having cast off your stink; shall I clip your eyebrows too?  Mercury. 
Yes, for these he used to raise to the top of his forehead, when he strained himself. What, dost thou cry? varlet, and art afraid of death? enter then.  Menippus. 
He still hath one thing strong about him.  Mercury. 
What, Menippus.  Menippus. 
Flattery, Mercury, which when he lived, stood him in much stead.  Philosoph. 
Do you then, Menippus, cast off your liberty, and boldness of speech; your jollity also, and jeering.  Mercury. 
By no means: keep them still; for they are light, and of easy portage, and will advance our passage. Do you, Pleader, cast away your tedious speeches, and your Retortions; your similitudes also, and periods, and barbarismes, and other burdens of language.  Rhetor. 
'Tis done.  Mercury. 
'Tis well. Now set from the shore, and le's pull up the ladder, weigh anchor, and spread the sail. Do you, Ferryman, guide the stern; and let's be merry. Why howl you ye vain people? especially, you Philosopher? because you lost your beard?  Philosoph. 
No. But because I thought the soul had been immortal.  Menippus. 
He lies: he weeps for something else.  Mercury. 
For what?  Menippus. 
Marry, because he can be no more invited to costly suppers; and cannot steal forth by night unespied, and muffling himself in his gown, go over his circle of whorehouses, and in the morning cheat his pupils, with his lecture of wisdom, and take their money. These are the things that grieve him.  Philosopher. 
Art not thou troubled, Menippus, because thou art dead?  Menippus. 
How can I, who hastened to meet death before I was called? But hark, do you not hear a great noise from the earth.  Mercury. 
Yes, Menippus, in more than one place. 'Tis a company met together, who make themselves merry at Lampichus death; The women also surround, and follow his wife, and the boys throw stones at his children. Others in Sicyonia clap Diophantus the Orator, for making a funeral Oration upon Crato. Damasias' mother also with other women make a lamentation for him: No body bewails thee, Menippus; thou liest unmolested.  Menippus. 
Not so, you shall presently hear the dogs dolefully barking, and the Crows beating their wings when they come to bury me.  Mercury. 
Thou art a valiant fellow, Menippus. So, we are arrived at the shore: go all you strait forward to the Court of Justice. I and the Ferryman will fetch others.  Menippus. 
Farewell, Mercury, we'll pass on. What will become of you my friends? you must all be arraigned; and they say there are grievous punishments here; Wheels, and Vultures, and restless stones: every man's life shall be opened and ripped up.   

A Dialogue between Crates, and Diogenes.  Crates. 
DId you know rich Moerichus, Diogenes? he that was so wondrous rich, and came from Corinth; who had whole fleets laden with Merchandise; whose cousin Aristeas being also very wealthy, used to repeat that piece of Homer, Do you kill me, or let me kill you.  Diogenes. 
The two that always courted one another, Crates?  Crates. 
Yes, for their estates: being both alike aged, they published their wills. In which Moerichus, if he died first, left Aristeas heir to all he had, and Aristeas did the like if he died before Moerichus. This was recorded. They continued their Courtship, and strove, who should excel in flattery. The presages, whether they took their conjectures from the stars, or from their dreams, as the Chaldaeans do, nay Apollo himself also sometimes gave the victory to Aristeas, sometimes to Moerichus: so that the Balance sometimes inclined to one, sometimes to the other.  Diogenes. 
What was the event, Crates? 'tis a thing worthy my hearing.  Crates. 
They both died upon one day, and their estates descended to Eunomius, and Thrasycles their two Kinsmen, not at all presaging so great a fortune. For sailing from Sicyonia to Cyrrha, a contrary wind and tempest took them in the middle of their Course, and sunk them.  Diogenes. 
They were rightly served. But we in our life time did no such things to one another; neither did I ever pray for the death of Antisthenes, that I might inherit his staff, though 'twere a strong one, and made of a Crabtree. Nor do I think, Crates, that you wished me dead, that you might inherit my Tub, or Scrip, or two quarts of Lupins.  Crates. 
I had no need of those things, Diogenes, neither had you. As much of Antisthenes descended to you, as you had use of; and as much from you to me, as I had use of: which was much more, and more precious than the Persian Monarchy?  Diogenes. 
What do you mean.  Crates. 
Wisdom, Contentment, truth, liberty, and freedom.  Diogenes. 
I remember I succeeded Antisthenes in those wealthy virtues; and left them amplified to you.  Crates. 
Others neglected such possessions, and never courted us for our estates; but had their eyes fastened upon Gold.  Diogenes. 
And good reason. For they could receive no such things from us; but being torn with pleasure, like old rotten purses, what ever wisdom, or liberty, or truth, is put into them, presently drops out and runs through, the bottom being not able to hold it. Resembling Danaus Daughters, who power water into a vessel full of holes. But gold they retain with tooth and nail, and all the strength they have.  Crates. 
We, therefore, even here enjoy our Treasures: they bring but one single penny with them, and leave that too with the Ferryman.   

A Dialogue between Alexander, Hannibal, Minos, Scipio.  Alexander. 
'TIs fit I be preferred before you, Lybian, being the better man.  Hannibal. 
No, Sir, 'Tis fit I should be preferred.  Alexander. 
Let Minos judge.  Minos. 
Who are you?  Alexander. 
This is Hannibal, the Carthaginian; I am Alexander the Son of Philippe.  Minos. 
Afore Jove, both famous men. But about what is your contention?  Alexander. 
About taking place. He says he was a greater Commander than I. I, as all the world knows, not only excelled this fellow, but all men else in Wars.  Minos. 
Both therefore speak for yourselves as well as you can: and do you begin, Lybian.  Hannibal. 
I am glad Minos, that I have here learned the Greek Tongue, that herein also Alexander may not excel me. I say, then, that those men are most worthy of renown, who from small Originals, have arrived to great Achievements, and by their own power have made themselves worthy of Empire. With a small Troop I made an inroad into Spain at first, as Lieutenant under my brother; where I was held fit for the greatest employments and counted the best soldier. For there I conquered the Iberians, and overcame the Gauls, and Hesperians; and having marched over great mountains near the Po, I over ran and demolished divers cities, wasted all the Champion Country of Italy, and led my army to the suburbs of Rome; and slew so many Romans in one day, that we measured their Rings by Bushels, and made Bridges over rivers with dead bodies: And all this I did, neither called the son of Ammon, nor feigning myself a God, nor telling my mother's dreams. But confessing myself to be a man, I fought against tried, experienced Captains, and joined battle with stout and warlike soldiers; not with Medes, or Armenians, who fly before they are pursued, and yield the victory to any man of a bold spirit. Whereas Alexander, succeeding his Father in his Kingdom, enlarged it, indeed, but by the current of Fortune; who when he had overcome, and taken the miserable Darius in the plains of Arbela, contrary to the custom of his Ancestors, would have been adored: And corrupting himself with the Persian Luxury, he slew his friends at Banquets, and assisted at their murders. I had the rule of my Country too; yet when they called me home, because a great fleet of enemies sailed towards Lybia, I speedily obeyed, and rendered myself a private man: and when I was afterwards condemned, bore the sentence contentedly. And this I did, being but a Barbarian, and not bred to the Greek Discipline: who never read Homer, like him, nor was instructed by Aristotle; but was led by my own excellent Genius. And these are the things wherein I pronounce myself better than Alexander. But if he think himself my superior, because he hath encircled his head with a Crown: perchance such ornaments may seem venerable to his Macedonians; but it follows not that therefore he should be preferred before a valiant and Warlike Captain, who still went more by Counsel then Fortune.  Minos. 
He hath made a generous speech for himself, and not to be expected from a Lybian. What say you to this, Alexander?  Alexander. 
'Tis fit, Minos, I should make no reply to such a bold fellow: since fame can sufficiently instruct thee how great a Prince I was, and how great a Thief he: Yet consider how far I excel him, who began my Achievements, with my youth; when succeeding in a troubled and distracted State, I took revenge of my Father's Murderers. Afterwards, striking a terror into all Greece by my conquest of Thebes, they chose me their General: nor was I content to straighten myself within the Kingdom of Macedonia left me by my Father, but projected the victory of all the world. Thinking it poor not to reign over the Universe, with a small Army I entered into Asia, and in a great battle won Lydia, jonia, and Phrygia. And conquering all as I marched, I came to Issus, where Darius with an Army consisting of Myriads expected me. After this, Minos, you may remember how many thousand shades I sent you in one day: The Ferryman says his Boat was not sufficient, but that he was fain to join boards together, and waft them over upon planks. And this I did, still exposing myself first to danger, and offering myself to wounds. And that I may not recount to you, what I did at Tyre, and in the fields of Arbela, I went as far as India, and made the Ocean the period of my empire; took their Elephants; and brought away Porus Captive. Passing over Tanais, in a great horse fight I vanquished the Scythians, a people not to be contemned: Rewarded my followers, and revenged myself of my foes. If men thought me a God, they are to be pardoned, being persuaded from the greatness of my Actions. After all, I died a King. Whereas Hannibal died Banished in the Court of Prusias the Bythinian; A fit death for so deceitful, and perjured a fellow. For I forbear to tell how he overcame the Italians, not by valour, but by cozenage, perfidiousness, and stratagems. There being nothing just, or clear in all that enterprise. But whereas he objects to me my Luxury, he forgets what he did at Capua; where he had his Mistresses, and like an admired soldier voluptuously squandered away the opportunities of war. Had not I, out of my contempt of the Western parts, turned my march to the east, what great matter had I achieved? Have taken Italy, perchance without blood, or have subdued Lybia, to the utmost coasts of afric. These were Countries below my Conquests, being already terrified by my fame, and acknowledging me for their Lord. I have said: give sentence, Minos. And let these few Achievements picked out of many suffice.  Scipio. 
Stay, Minos, till you have heard me too.  Minos. 
What are you, Brave Sir? or from whence come you?  Scipio. 
I am the Roman Scipio, who overthrew Carthage, and in many great Battles subdued Lybia.  Minos. 
What would you say more?  Scipio. 
Marry, that I am inferior to Alexander, but greater than Hannibal, who conquered, and pursued him, and compelled him to a dishonourable flight. He is therefore very impudent to compare himself with Alexander, with whom I, who vanquished him, presume not to rank myself in comparison.  Minos. 
Afore jove thou speakest rightly, Scipio: wherefore I pronounce Alexander to be first, next to him you Scipio; and, if you please, let Hannibal be third, since he is not utterly to be despised.   

A Dialogue between Diogenes and Alexander.  Diogenes. 
HOw now, Alexander, are you dead too like all us?  Alexander. 
You see I am, Diogenes: nor is it strange, being a mortal man, I should die.  Diogenes. 
Did jupiter Ammon lie then, when he said you were his Son; or were you in earnest the Son of Philip?  Alexander. 
Of Philip it seems: had I been descended of jupiter, I had been Immortal.  Diogenes. 
But there went a report of your Mother Olympia, that a Dragon should couple with her, and be seen in her Chamber; and that from thence she should conceive, and bring forth you; and that Philip was deceived to think himself your Father.  Alexander. 
I have heard such a Report; but now I see that neither my Mother, nor the Priests of jupiter are to be credited.  Diogenes. 
Yet their lie stood you, Alexander, in good stead in your Enterprises: for many were struck with an opinion of your Divinity. But tell me, pray, to whom have you left your great Empire?  Alexander. 
I know not, Diogenes. I had no more leisure to dispose it, then just at my Death to give my Ring to Perdiccas. But why laugh you, Diogenes?  Diogenes. 
How can I choose? Have you forgot what the Grecians did, when at your entrance into your Kingdom, they flattered and chose you their Prince, and General against the Barbarians: and how some placed you among the twelve Gods, built Temples, and Sacrificed to you, as the Son of the Dragon? But tell me, where have the Macedonians buried you?  Alexander. 
I have lain these three days at Babylon. But Ptolemy, my Armour bearer, hath promised, as soon as the Tumults now on foot will give him leisure, to carry me into Egypt, and bury me there; that I may become one of the Egyptian Gods.  Diogenes. 
Shall I not laugh, Alexander, when I see you play the fool in Hell, and hope to be made some Anubis, or Osiris? Throw off your Ambition, Divine Sir, for 'tis not possible for any, who have once past over the Infernal Lake, and entered the mouth of the Cave, to return; neither is Aeacus invigilant, or Cerberus to be contemned. I would therefore gladly learn of you, how you bear the remembrance of the felicity you left above; your Guards, and Squires, and Peers, your Treasures and Countries which adored you: Babylon also, and Bactria; besides your Elephants, Honour, and Glory, when you were carried in Triumphs, your head bound about with a white Coronet, and yourself clothed with Purple: do you not relent at the memory of these things? why weepest thou, Fool? did not your wise Master Aristotle teach you, not to account any of the gifts of Fortune stable?  Alexander. 
Call you him Wise, who was the basest of Flatterers? there's none knows so much of Aristotle, as ●; what suits he made, and what letters he wrote to me, and how he abused my Ambition to Learning, soothing and extolling me, sometimes for my Beauty, as if it been a piece of the highest Good; sometimes for my Actions and Treasure; maintaining that Riches were Good, that he might, I believe, with the less shame refuse them. He was a Juggler, Diogenes, and Cheater. All that I gained by his wisdom is to grieve for those things you mentioned, as for the greatest goods.  Diogenes. 
He teach you a cure for your sorrow. Since there grows no Hellebore here, drink as great a draught of Lethe, as you can, and you will never after be troubled for Aristotle's goods. But look, yonder comes Clitus, and calisthenes, and many others to dismember you, and revenge themselves for what they suffered: wherefore wade over to the other Bank, and drink sound as I bid you.   

A Discourse of Followers, and such as are employed for Reward.  
HOw shall I, my Friend, describe to you the First and the Last, as they say, of those miseries, which they are fain to suffer and undergo, who are in pay, and retain to the Friendship of Rich men? if I may call Servitude, Friendship. For I know many, and almost all the evils which befall them. Not from my own experience, (for I was never forced to make trial, nor may I ever, O ye Gods) but many who have been cast upon that course of life, have made descriptions to me: some, whilst they yet felt the thraldom, deploring the many and great indignities they endured: others, as if they had broke prison, recounting with some pleasure what they had suffered, much rejoicing to repeat the mischiefs they had escaped. These are the more to be credited, having been admitted into the secrets and mysteries of the Course, and seen all from the beginning to the end. I hear them therefore not carelessly, or without attention, but as men who report an unlooked for deliverance from some Shipwreck; like those Sailors, whom we see in our Temples with shorn heads, who will tell you of waves, and billows, and steep swellings of the Sea, and toss, and broken Masts, and torn Tackling; but above all of the Twin Brothers, Castor and Pollux, (two necessary persons in the Tragedy,) or some other God unexpectedly sitting on their Sails, or standing at the Stern, who guided their Ship to some peaceable Shore, where it no sooner arrived, but by easy and gentle degrees sunk, whilst they by the favour and protection of their God, safely landed themselves. Many such Tragical passages will they report to raise your Charity, presuming to receive the more, if they appear not only distressed, but affected by the Gods. But they who speak of their Domestic tempest, and waves, and, as I may say, of their third, fifth, and tenth Billows: and how they first launched into a calm Sea, and what they suffered in their voyage; Thirsty, Sea-sick, and overcome with the salt water: lastly, how their unhappy Ship dashed against an hidden Rock, or some sharp Promontory; and how they, wretches, were miserably fain to swim to land naked, with the loss of all they had. When I hear such complaints as these, they seem to me to conceal many things for shame, as men willing to have them forgotten. But I, framing my conjectures from such and the like discourses, have found out the discommodities of such Attendances, which it shall be no trouble to me, my Friend Timocles, to decipher to you. For, me thinks, I have perceived you of a long time bending to that course of life. For when not long since we fell upon this Argument, one of the company praised this Mercenary course, calling them thrice happy who had dependence on great persons at Rome, where they might feast shot-free, lodge magnificently, travail with all accommodation and pleasure, and lie along if they please in an Ivory Sedan. Moreover, to be paid for their friendship and well-being, is no small felicity; so that without Sowing or Tillage, all things spring to them voluntarily. At this, or the like Discourse, I saw how you gaped, and presently held open your mouth for the Bait to drop in. Lest therefore you should hereafter blame me, or should say, that when I saw you about to swallow the Hook with the Bait, I saved you not, or plucked not out the hook before it was fastened in your throat; or did not forewarn you, but stayed, till it stuck and were fixed in you; and when I saw you entangled and caught without any redress, stood by only and wept: lest, I say, you should make these objections, not by me to be answered, should I not give you some premonitions, take with you this brief Character, and consider at your leisure, before you be wrapped and enfolded in it, into what a mouthless Net you are to enter. Feel the tongue and point of the hook with your fingers, and apply for trial the sharp Trident to your cheek; which if you find not sharp, and not to be escaped without wounds, but forceably attracting and irresistably holding what they catch, reckon me among Cowards and Beggars: and take you the boldness to be caught, and like a Sea-cob swallow the whole bait. Now though this discourse be intended for you, yet 'twill concern not only Philosophers, and as many as propose to themselves a life of Virtue, but Grammarians also, and Orators, and Musicians, and as many as live by their Learning, and teach for reward. Since all are of condition alike, then, and the same things happen to all, 'tis plain that Philosophers are not exempted, but are of worse condition, if they endure the same things which others do; and if these who have them in pay, hold them but in equal reverence. But what discoveries soever my discourse make by the way, they are first in fault who offer such indignities, next they who endure them. But I am blameless, unless Liberty and Freedom of narration be a fault. As for those of vulgar quality, as unskilful Flatterers, men of poor and abject spirits, 'tis below me to dehort them from such courses; or if I should, ' 'ttwere to no purpose. Nor is it fit I should condemn them for not forsaking their Hire, though much affronted by them; being made and cut out, and form for such Employments. Besides they have no other course to turn themselves to; so that if any man should take it from them, they would presently be void of business, turn slothful, needy, and unprofitable. To such no Employment seems base or disgraceful, though it be, as they say, to hold a Chamber-pot. For they are at first entertained to bear contempts, and 'tis their art to dissemble, and wink at what they suffer. But I cannot but distaste such submissions in men of Learning and parts, and am to endeavour their conversion and restitution to Liberty: which I shall be the better able to effect, if I examine the reasons why some enslave themselves to that kind of life, and show their weakness & infirmity; whereby they will be disarmed of their Defence, and of the ground on which they build their voluntary Bondage. Most men then, if they can pretend poverty, and the want of things necessary, think they have got a sufficient colour and veil for their entrance into that life; and think it excuse enough to say they do nothing which deserves not pardon, if they seek to free themselves from poverty, a thing to the life of man most intolerable▪ pressing upon all occasions that piece of Theognis, Want kills all men; and such other affrightments from poverty, as the most obscure and abject Poets have delivered. And truly if by such dependences I should see them released from their necessities, I would not so earnestly dispute with them about Liberty. But as the Orator said, being of Sick men's diet, how can they possibly clear themselves from having given themselves ill counsel, the reason of their course still remaining? For they still suffer want and need supplies, unable to lay up, or keep any thing over: but when they are paid their wages, (if yet they be paid) 'tis spent presently, and hardly defrays their ordinary charges. 'Twere good therefore not to invent such refuges, as cherish and assist poverty, but such as take it away: which perchance was the meaning of Theognis, when he said, Poverty was to be cast headlong from a steep Cliff into the Sea. But if any man who serves for wages, and is still needy and poor, think this the way to avoid Poverty, he deceives himself. Others, say they, would not at all fear Poverty, if like other men they could sustain themselves by their labours; but having bodies weakened either by age or sickness, they are fain to betake themselves to the easy life of Servingmen. Let us see then whither they say truth; and whither their wages come to them easily, and not through harder tasks than other labourers. 'Twere indeed to be wished, that without toil or sweat Silver would flow upon them. But this is so far from Truth, that no employments are fuller of labour, and sweat, and require more vigour & strength of body; which is every day wasted by a thousand businesses, and tired to the utmost. But of this I will treat in due place, when I come to speak of other grievances. For the present it shall be enough to have shown, that their pretences, are false. I come next to speak of the true cause (but unacknowledged) which makes men enter themselves into great families, that is, that they may enjoy pleasure, cherish large and ample Hopes, admire the abundance of Gold and Silver, fare deliciously; and partake the other happinesses of life, and without control drink Gold. These are the things which entice men, and make them of freemen slaves; not the want of necessaries, as they pretend, but the thirst of superfluities, and itch of abundance: much like sly, and cheating mistresses, who entertain their wretched, and unfortunate lovers and inflame them with a pretty disdain, to Court, and observe them, and yet after their long service scarce allow them a short kiss, well knowing that Love is dissolved by fruition; which they therefore keep locked up, and impart sparingly, cherishing in their lovers some faint hopes, lest despair should lessen their flame, or unedge their desires; They therefore are always affable, make fair promises, that they will perform, and be thankful and acknowledge their costly presents. Till at length both grow old, ere they be aware, and become unfit; the one to Court, the other to be Courted; so that their whole life hath vapoured away in hopes. But to undergo any course for the love of pleasure is not altogether blame-worthy, but someway pardonable in him who is inclined to it, and pursues all ways to compass it; Though I must needs say, 'tis both base and unmanly to give himself for it: For the pleasure which arises from liberty, is much greater. Yet as I say before, They deserve pardon, if they attain the pleasure they aim at; But for the bare expectation of pleasure to undergo so many encumbrances, is, in my judgement, ridiculous: especially seeing how certain, manifest, and unavoidable, their pains are; and how the thing they expect, which is pleasure, after a long attendance flies from them; And, if they shut not their eyes to truth, is never likely to approach them. Ulysses companions having tasted of the enchanted bowl, neglected all things else, and preferred their present delight before virtue; having some little reason to forget what was decent, their souls being possessed by pleasure. But should some thirsty man stand by when another drinks of such a bowl, out of mere hope to get a taste, and yet get none, and foe forget what is fit and decent, He were most ridiculous and worthy Homer's whipping-post. These, or the like, are the Causes which carry men into dependences, and suffer rich men to put them to what employment they list. To which we may add, that some think it a glory to retain to illustrious persons, and persons of Honour; as being thereby advanced above the condition of the Vulgar. For my part I would not belong to the greatest prince, or be seen in his retinue, if no other preferment accompanied my nearness to him. This, then, being the foundation of servitude, let us consider next, what they feel, and endure, before they compass their ends; and what are the calamities of their life; and lastly, what is the Catastrophe of their Tragedy. First they cannot say that though their employments be burdensome, they are made easy by custom, and require no great trouble; or that to a willing mind business doth itself: many wearisome walks are to be made, their doors every morning to be visited, you the saluter to attend, though you are locked out, or thrust from the door sometimes, if you grow bold, or pressing, by the Porter, who speaks broken Syriack, and are fain to bribe a Lybian Nomenclator to remember your name. Then you must wear clothes above your Ability, for the credit of him you serve, and make choice of such colours as he delights in; and which differ not in Lyverie from his. Lastly, you must always follow, or go before, thrust and justled by the other servants, and as it were make one in a show, or Triumph; Whilst your Patron for many days not once looks upon you: or if it be your good fortune to be seen or called by him, and that he by chance speak to you, than you begin to sweat, your eyes dazzle, your joints shake, the standers by laugh at your confusion; especially when he shall ask you who was king of Achaia, and you make answer he had a Thousand ships: which good natures will call modesty; bold men, cowardliness; unbred men, ignorance; whereupon you, having made a dangerous encounter of his Familiarity, depart much accusing your bashfulness. And when you have lost many night's sleep, and past over many bloody days, not to recover a Helen, or to Conquer a Priamus, or Troy, but for the hopes of five groats; if by chance you light upon some assistant God in a Tragedy, you are examined whither you be skilled in the Mathematics, a question frequent in the mouths of rich men, who are, therefore, much praised, and celebrated: whilst you out of astonishment think he gives sentence upon you, and calls your life in question. This thought coming cross your mind, that no man will receive you, if you be disallowed or rejected by him, you must needs be cast into a thousand distractions, out of envy to those who are examined with you, and who stand in competition with you for your place: imagining you have answered imperfectly, and tossed between your Hopes, and fears, you watch his countenance, and if he show any dislike of your Replies, you are undone; If he hear you with approbation, you take heart, and revive your hopes. Besides, it cannot be but that many should withstand your desires, and should strive to remove you, and place others in your Room, and should dart at you underhand. Consider too what a sight 'tis to see a man with a long beard, and a white head examined what a Scholar he is; and to some to appear to have profitted, to others not. In the mean time your former life and age past is curiously searched into. And if any acquaintance, or neighbour, upon some light provocation, shall accuse you of adultery, or the like, he is heard as a witness produced from Jupiter's Table-book. If all report well of you, they will be suspected, thought vain, and hired by you: you must therefore have great luck, and meet with no rubs, or you will never compass your aims. But put the case that fortune be your friend, and that your Lord approve of your parts, and that his best friends, upon whose authority in such trials he most relies, strive not to divert him: suppose too you have his wife's allowance, be not thwarted by the Steward, and that no man blemish your former Behaviour, but that, as they say, all things concur to make a grateful Sacrifice; you have conquered, happy Sir, and have won the Garland; you have taken Babylon as soon, or the Castle of Sardis, and may as well possess Amalthaeas' Horn, or milk the Fowls. For suppose the time now come, that you receive recompense answerable to your Service; and that your Garland prove not a Garland of frail Oaken leaves, nor your wages contemptible, but that it be seasonably paid you without much suit, and that you be preferred before your fellow attendants: moreover, that you be released from your troublesome visits, attendances in the dirt, and watchings, and, according to the common Proverb, be allowed to sleep with your feet stretched out, and for the future be employed only in those easy businesses, for which you were at first hired, and taken in; which is but reasonable, Timocles; nor would a man grudge to bear an easy yoke, which were portable, and guilt; yet will you fail much, if not altogether, of your expectation. For there are a thousand things in such dependences, which misbecome an ingenious man: which, as you hear from me in order, judge whither they be to be born by any man who hath but tasted of Learning. I will begin from your first entertainment, from whence you may make a judgement of your future usage. First, a neat Servingman is sent to invite you to Supper; whom you are to fee, and, lest you be thought uncivil, are to clap into his hand at least a Crown: which he refuses with, Pray excuse me, I cannot take it, Hercules forbid; but is at length persuaded, and being gone laughs at you. You presently put on your best clothes, trim, and wash yourself; and fear to be the first comer: for that is clownish, as to come last is troublesome. Having watched therefore for fit opportunity, you enter; and you are honourably bid welcome. Then comes one to you, and bids you sit down above the rich man that invited you, between his two old friends: but you, as though you were newly entered into Jupiter's Temple, admire all things, and are astonished at every thing you see done, which appears strange, and unusual to you. In the mean time the eyes of all the Servants are upon you, and the other Guests observe how you carry yourself. Nor are you unwatcht by the rich man, who before hand charged the waiters to mark what by-glances or looks you cast upon his Wife, or Boys: whilst the rest that are invited seeing you for want of experience amazed at what passes, smile at you, and conjecture that you were never invited before; and that you were never till then used to a Napkin. Whereupon you out of distraction fall a sweeting, and though you be thirsty dare not call for Drink, lest you be thought a Tipler: and of all the variety of dishes which stand in order before you, know not to which you are first or last to move your hand; but are fain to observe him that sits next to you, and to learn in what order you are to cut; and so pass over your meat distracted in your mind, and struck at all that's done. Sometimes you admire the rich man for his Plate, and Ivory, and pleasures; then again you deplore your own unhappiness, in that you possess nothing, and yet live: another thought presently flatters you, what a desirable life you shall lead to have the fruition of all those pleasures, and equally to enjoy them; and how all your Suppers will be Bacchanals. Besides, the waiters laughing at you in private, will make pleasant descriptions to you of the sweetness of your future conversation, and tell you that you will be always singing those verses in Homer: 
No marvel if the Trojans and Greeks strong  
Did their laborious war and siege prolong  
For so much happiness.—  At length you are invited to drink a Health: and one taking a great Bowl begins to you, by the name of Tutor, or some such like compellation; you receive the cup of him, and know not what answer to return, and so for want of experience are thought rustic, and unbred. Besides, that drinking to you stirs the envy of all the inviters old retainers, who are galled at your sitting down before them too; that being but a new comer, you should be preferred before men who served a prenticeship: presently therefore they begin thus to mutter among themselves. This only was wanting to other Indignities, that we should be placed after those who are newly entered into the family. None but Grecians are respected at Rome; and what is there in them why they should take place of me? Is their Service more than ours, because they can prate? Did you not mark, says another, how much he drank? how he devoured all the meat that stood before him? an unbred, famished fellow, who never dreamt of white bread, or Pheasants, or Partridges, and yet he left us nothing but the bones. Peace, Fools, saith a third, within this week you shall see him esteemed no more than one of us. He is now prized and valued like a pair of new Sho●s; but when he is worn a while, and hath been in the dirt, he will be neglected and cast aside, like us, and make a dinner for the Rats. These and the like speeches are tossed among them, who from that time project complaints and accusations against you, and all the Discourse of the meal is of you: who not used to such meetings, having overdrunk yourself in sweet, loosning wine, find your belly work, and are not well. Neither can you in good manners depart before the company, nor can you with safety stay. In the mean time, while the drinking is continued, and one discourse falls into another, and one show is presented after another, (for you must stay to see all) you are not a little tormented, and neither mark what is done, nor hear what is sung, or played by one of his Ingles. But are to praise all out of necessity, though you wish the house would fall with an Earthquake, or that some body would proclaim it to be on fire, that the feast might be dissolved. You have the Character, my friend, of your first and most pleasant entertainment: which to me is not so pleasant as Onions, and bay salt, of which I may eat freely, and as much, or little as I please. I omit to tell you of the rawness, and crudities of your stomach, and of your vomits in the night. Next morning you are to bargain what wages you are to have by the year, and Covenants are agreed upon in the presence of two or three of your master's friends. Before whom he first bids you sit down, and then thus begins. You see what my estate is, how free from pomp, which I enjoy without any ostentation, in a moderate and vulgar way; I would have you, therefore, believe that all things shall be common between us. For 'twere ridiculous that I should trust you with the best part of my possessions, my life, or children, (if he have any) and not in an equal measure make you master of my Fortunes. But because we are to come to certainties, I shall comply with your moderation, and frugality. For I understand no desire of gain drew you to my house, but other considerations, as your affection to me, and the honour of your Relation, yet something I will allow you; and I should be glad yourself would set the proportion: but consider first the gifts I shall bestow upon you at good times, which shall not be omitted, though they fall not within our bargain; and you know there are many revolutions in the year; These therefore considered, set to yourself some reasonable price, or hire; For I know you men of learning despise money. By this Prologue he besieges you with Hopes, and renders you pliant, and flexible to his ends. You, who before fancied to yourself Talents, and Millions, and whole Farms, and palaces, secretly perceive his sordidness: yet believe and think his promises, that all things shall be common, are unfayling Oracles; not discerning that they proceeded merely from his lips, and not from his heart. At last out of Modesty you refer the sum to him, which he refuses to name; But desires one of his friends, there present, to deal between you, and to design a price, neither too great for him to spare, out of his other necessary disbursments, nor yet too small for you to receive. Here his old friend, bred up with him in flatttery, asks you, if you think not yourself the most happy man in the City, that you have lighted upon the good fortune, so much coveted by others, to be admitted into dependence by such a person? To have the use of one of the greatest Families in Rome? which, if you have your modesty, is more than Croesus' wedges, or Midas wealth. I know some, says he, of good quality, who would give money, only for the credit of the Relation, to belong to him and to be seen about him, as his followers or Friends. I cannot, therefore, sufficiently extol your happiness, who are to have pay to your good fortune. In my Judgement, therefore, unless you be a spendthrift, so much is enough; And then sets some small price, far below your expectation; which nevertheless you must accept contentedly, since there is no escape for you now out of the Net. Grudgingly, therefore, you thrust your head into the bridle; yet carry yourself gentle, not being much troubled, or galled, till you be a little accustomed to him. They abroad, in the mean while, emulate you, seeing you within the pale, and making your entrance without control, and made one of the Family; whilst you know no reason why you should appear so happy in their eyes, but only that you flatter and rejoice yourself with the hopes and amendment of your fortune, which every day lessens and goes backward. At length as it were in a doubt, full light, you begin to perceive that all your wealthy hopes were but golden bubbles; but that your Toils are real, unavoidable, and perpetual. But you will ask me what those toils are? and tell me, that you discern no such troubles in such dependences, or such intolerable employments as I speak of. Hear, therefore, Gallant Sir, and weigh not only the trouble, but the baseness, dishonour, and servility of such employments. For first from the time you are entertained, you are to forget your liberty, and parentage; and are to resolve, when you enter into such relations, to leave your descent, freedom, and Ancestors at the door. For Liberty cannot have admission with you, who are received into such low and ungenerous employments. A servant, therefore, however you are troubled at the name, a servant you are necessarily to be, not of one, but many; and are to wait uncovered from morning to night for contemptible wages. Besides, not being bred of a child to service, but coming to the trade late, and well stricken in years, you will hardly please, or be much valued by your Master. For the remembrance of your former Liberty will corrupt you, and prompt you to a relapse sometimes, and make your Thraldom much the heavier: Unless you think you are at liberty because you had not Pyrrhias, or Zopyrio for your Father; or were not sold, like a Bithynian, by some big voiced Crier. But, good Sir, to stand every new Moon with Pyrrhias, and Zopyrio, and hold out your hand like other servants, to receive what shall be given, is sale. For he needs no Crier who is his own Crier, and of himself makes long suit for a Master. If therefore, you base fellow, (for I cannot but say so to one who professeth Philosophy) a Pirate should take you at Sea, or if some Robber should enslave you, you would deplore yourself▪ as one who became unfortunate beside your merit. Or if one should apprehend you, and say you are his Servant, you would invoke the Laws, use all endeavours to free yourself, express great disdain, and in a loud voice call the Earth and Gods to your assistance. And yet for all you are of an age, in which had you been born a Slave, 'twere time for you to look towards Liberty; and though you have been bred to virtue, and wisdom, for a few farthings you sell yourself; never regarding the excellent Discourses uttered by Plato, Chrysippus, and Aristotle, in the praise of Liberty, and dispraise of Servitude: nor are you ashamed to be reckoned with Flatterer's, Hirelings, and Buffoons; or among so many Romans to go attired like a stranger, or to speak Latin barbarously, or to go to tumultuous, promiscuous Suppers, where the company is mixed and troublesome; and there to pass ridiculous praises, to drink immoderately, and next morning at the sound of a Bell to rise, break your sweet sleep, and trudg up and down with yesterday dirt yet about your heels. Do you feel such a penury of Beans, or Herbs, or have fountains left off to run, that despair should drive you to this course? No such matter, neither want of beans or water, but your desire of Juncats, and delicate fare, and odoriferous wines drew you, and like a Pike your greediness justly fastened a hook in your Gills: & so you suffer the reward of your liquorousness; and like a Monkey chained to a post by the neck, make sport to the Beholders; whilst you are much pleased to have Figs and Comfits thrown to you. But Liberty and Freedom, Stock or Pedigree, are vain, empty names, and of which you keep no remembrance. Yet the course were to be liked, if it had only this inconveniency of baseness, to make a Freeman a Slave, and brought not other servile Employments with it. But consider whither your tasks be more tolerable than those which are enjoined to Dromo, or Tibius. As for your Learning, for which you say he took you in, he little regards it: for according to the Proverb, what agreement can there be between an Ass and an Harp? Do you not observe how they are possessed with the desire of Homer's Wisdom, Demosthenes' Eloquence, and Plato's high Discourses? and yet should a man take out of their minds their thoughts and cares of Gold, and Silver, nothing would remain but Pride, Effeminateness, Luxury, Lasciviousness, Cruelty, and Ignorance; to all which you are useless. But because you have a large Beard, and are of a venerable aspect, and wear a decent Greek Mantle, and all men know you to be a Grammarian, or Orator, or Philosopher; he thinks it is for his reputation to mingle such a one with those who go before him, to grace and set out his train: And from hence gains the opinion of a Patron of the Grecian Arts, and of a Friend to Learning, so that you are not hired for excellency of parts, or Discourse, but for your Beard and Gown. And therefore are always to be seen in his company, and never to be from him, but are to rise early every morning to present yourself, and appear in your attendance, and not break your rank. He sometimes laying his hand upon you, prates any thing by chance, and makes show to those he meets, that in passage through the streets he forgets not the Muses, but employs the small leisure of his walk in honest conferences: whilst you most wretchedly sometimes going apace, sometimes softly, sometimes up, sometimes down, (for such you know are the passages of the City) sweat, and put yourself out of breath. At length he strikes into a house, to talk with some friend, whom he went to visit; where, for want of a place to sit down, you are fain to read a Book, to pass away the time. After this, having neither eaten nor drunk that day, discommodiously washed, and at an unseasonable hour, about midnight perhaps, you go to supper; and are no longer reverenced, or regarded by the rest. But if there be a new comer, you are set below him, and thrust into some obscure Corner, where you sit as a Spectator only of what is brought to Table; and like a dog gnaw the bones which descend to you, or out of hunger suck some withered Salad, refused by those who sit above you. Nor is this all your disgrace; you are not allowed a whole Egg to yourself, nor is it thought fit that you should be attended still like the other Guests, and Strangers, (for that was your fond conceit) nor is the same Fowl set before you and others. But before your Lord stands a crammed, juicy one; before you, a young starved, tastlesse one: which is indeed no fowl, but an affront and reproach. Many times, if another want meat, one of the waiters takes away that which was set before you, and looking upon you, tells you, you are one of the house. If at any time a Pig be cut up, or a Venison pasty, you had need have the Carver your friend, or you will divide with Prometheus, and nothing but bones will come to your share. For that a dish should stand before him who sits above you, till he be cloyed, and should pass by you in an instant, it is not to be endured by one that hath any ingenuity, or but so much Gall as an Hart. I have not told you, that when the rest drink the oldest and best, you are to drink the fulsome, palled Wine: and therefore are careful to drink in a Silver, or guilt Bowl, lest the colour should betray what a contemptible Guest you are. Yet this were also to be endured, might you drink your full: but if you call often, the waiter will not hear you. There are many other things which will vex you; but especially to see an ●ngle or Dancing-Master, or an Alexandrian Jester, who writes Farces, preferred before you. For how can you expect to take equal place with them whose qualities are more delightful, & who carry love-letters in their bosoms. You, therefore, sit in some hole at supper, & hiding yourself for shame, secretly sigh, as 'tis fit, & bewail yourself, & accuse your fortune, for not allowing you a sprinkling of their favours; and could gladly wish yourself a Poet to write amorous Ditties, or had the gift to sing those which were made by others; seeing for what qualities others are prized and esteemed before you: nor would you refuse for a need to act a Magician, or Fortune-teller, and presage, like them, great Fortunes, Empires, and mighty Riches. When therefore you see men of such condition esteemed, and much made of, you could even find in your heart to be one of them, to preserve yourself from disesteem, and contempt. But because you are not so happy as to be framed for such Arts, you must of necessity give way, and silently mutter your grievances, and neglects to yourself. For if some whispering Tell-tale Servant complain of you, that you praised not your Mistress' Page for dancing, or singing well, you are in no small danger. You are therefore like a thirsty Land-frog, to cry aloud, that you may appear the most forward, and remarkable in your commendations. And sometimes when the rest are silent, you are to have in a readiness some feigned Panegyric, well powdered with Flattery. Next, 'tis a thing most ridiculous, that hungry, and thirsty, as many times you are, you should anoint yourself, and wear a Chaplet: for than me thinks you look like a Pillar erected over some ancient Carcase, adorned with Offerings to the Dead; who though they be anointed and crowned, yet neither eat nor drink the viands set before them. Besides, if you light upon a Master who is jealous, and who keeps handsome Boys, or hath a young Wife, and that he find you no stranger to Venus, or the Graces, 'tis matter for a Quarrel, and your danger is not contemptible. For Kings have many ears and eyes, and do not only see Truths, but always add something over, lest they be thought to connive. You are therefore to sit as if you were at a Persian Supper, with a downcast look, and to beware, lest some Eunuch catch you darting glances upon one of your Master's Concubines; or lest another Eunuch holding a bend Bow shoot an arrow through your Cheeks, whilst you are drinking, for casting your eyes aside. After you are risen from Supper, you are no sooner asleep, but at the first Cock-crowing you awake, and say to yourself, O me most unfortunate wretch, what conversation have I left, what friends, what a quiet life, what untroubled sleeps, and free Walks, to cast myself headlong into a Dungeon! And wherefore, O ye Gods, have I entered into this course? or what splendid reward doth it bring me? 'Tis not possible the commodities of this life should countervail those I forsook, when I enjoyed my liberty, and had all things in my own power. Now, as they say, I am led like a tame Lion up and down in a string, neither knowing (which makes my case most miserable) how to give content, or able to make myself gracious; being ignorant, and unskilful, compared to those men who make the Arts of pleasure their business. Besides, I am distasteful, and not fit for great Feasts, being unable to raise laughter; which makes my Master look discontentedly upon me because when he would be very merry, I carry myself tetrical, and grave; in a word, I shall never be able to piece with him. For if I endeavour to preserve my reverence, I am thought severe, and to be avoided: If I laugh, or strive to show a cheerful countenance, he presently grows disdainful, and spawles at me; so that, me thinks, I act a Comical part in a Tragical dress. Lastly, what kind of life shall I leave for myself, after I have spent my present age in the service of another? In the midst of this soliloquy, the Bell rings, and you are to return to your former task of walking and waiting, Having first anointed your thighs, and knees, to enable you for your race. Then you have the same supper, and at the same hour; Till at length your unaccustomed diet, watchings, and tire by degrees undermine you, and introduce a Consumption, or Ptissick, or pain of the Bowels, or some excellent Gout: which you valiantly resist, and many times when you are to keep your bed, cannot be allowed; but your sickness is thought a pretence to avoid business. Hence it comes to pass, that you are always paler than others, and look like one ready to die. And thus much be spoken of your sufferings, in the City. When you are to Travel any where, among other things, which I omit, you are by your place, and lot, to tarry for the waggon, and to come wet, and last into the Inn; where for want of Room you are lodged with the Cook, or your Mistress' barber upon the straw. I'll tell you a passage which Thesmopolis the Stoic told me of himself, very ridiculous, but not incredible, or such as may not happen to any other. He lived with a wealthy delicate, proud Lady, in the City, who had occasion to take a journey; where he said the first contemptible accident, he ever suffered, was, being a Philosopher, to sit next in the Coach to her page, whom she kept shaved both chin and thighs, and carried with her (it seems) for her Credit. He told me his name was Chelidonius, or swallow. Now judge you what a sight it was for a severe, grave, ancient man, with a white beard (which you know Thesmopolis wore at full length) to be placed next to an effeminate Boy, whose eyes were painted, and lasciviously rolled in his head, and his neck wantonly bend to one side; who more deserved to be called Vulture for his naked chin then swallow; and who, had he not been at his entreaty dissuaded, would have worn his head in a bag. Innumerable he said were the disturbances which he suffered from the page, who all the way sung, and prattled, and, if he had not restrained him, would have danced in the Coach. He told me, also, of a certain charge, laid upon him by the Lady; who calling to him, Thesmopolis, quoth she, if you love me, you must not deny me a favour, which I shall ask of you, nor expect I shall ever request a greater. He, as 'twas fit, promised to obey her request. Then, quoth she, I pray, because I take you to be an honest, careful, good natured man, take my little bitch Myrrhina into the Coach, and keep her for me, and see she lacks nothing; For she is very big with puppies, and is even ready to whelp, and my other servants are such Knaves, that upon the way they have neither care of her, nor indeed of me: you shall therefore not a little oblige me, if you will take care of a dog so dear and precious to me. Thesmopolis, at her earnest entreaty being almost ready to cry, received the Bitch. Here, then, was a spectacle most ridiculous, to see a little dog peeping under his gown, just below his Beard, and bepissing him sometimes (Though Thesmopolis dissembled it) and barking in a small voice (for such dogs are most in fashion) and licking the yesterday fat which stuck upon the Philosopher's chin. The Page, who sat next him, having not unwittily at supper played upon others of the company, at last broke a jest upon Thesmopolis; All I can say, quoth he, of Thesmopolis is only this, that of a Stoic he is become a Cynic. For I hear when the little Bitch pupped in his Gown. These are the Mockeries, or rather the affronts, which they fasten upon those who live with them, rendering them by little and little tame and patient of contempts. I knew a Carcharian Orator, who being commanded at a supper to make an Oration, declaimed not by an hour glass, but by a Rundler of wine, very eloquently, gravely, and roundly, and with the acclamation of those who in the mean time drank, and received two hundred Drachmas for his performance. Now such impositions are some way tolerable; But if he to whom you belong, be either given to Poëtry, or History, and be accustomed to repeat his own works at supper, how are you troubled to praise and flatter, and invent new ways of commendation? There are some, who will be admired for their Beauty; whom you must call Adonis, and Hyacinthus, though they have a nose a Cubit long. For if you commend them not, presently you are committed to Dionysius Dungeon, as one who wish them ill, and carry plots against them. You must call them Sages, and Orators too; who though they utter solecisms, yet they will be thought to make speeches full of Attic flowers, and Hymettian Honey, which ought to become patterns afterwards for men to speak by. But perhaps the carriage of the men is to be born with; but then the women affect too to have learned men in pay, who shall retain to them, attending upon their Sedans; And think nothing conduceth so much to their other bravery; and pomp, as to be called Learned Philosophers, and better makers of verses than Sapph. And for the raising of such an opinion, they are still accompanied by pensionary Rhetoricians, Grammarians, and Philosophers, who most ridiculously read to them, either while they are dressing themselves, or curling their hair, or at meal time; for at other times they are not at leisure. Sometimes, whilst the Philosopher is in the midst of his Discourse, the Chambermaid enters, and delivers a letter to her Lady from her Lechour-servant; whereupon the learned discourse of chastity breaks off, till she have wrote an answer, and return to her Lecture. After a long time, at the Feast of Saturn, perchance, or Minerva, if some threadbare Cloak, or motheaten garment, be sent you, you must receive it as a great present; And the servant first privy to his master's intention, who runs and acquaints you with his bounty, is not to be sent away without a reward for his news. The next morning, at least thirteen more bring you the same message; every one reporting what he said to his Master, how he put him in mind of it, and that being entrusted with the business he chose the most advantageous; who though they all return fed, yet grumble that you gave them no more. Next, your whole pension comes not to above six Crowns, which if you demand you are thought impudent, and troublesome, and, therefore, before you can receive it, you must insinuate and flatter, and court the steward; which is one step of servitude more; nor is he to be neglected who is your patron's friend, and of his Counsels. And when you have re-received your salary, you are presently to pay it again to your Tailor, or Physician, or Shoemaker; so that your rewards not only come late, unseasonable, and to no purpose, but great envy is kindled upon you, and by degrees the servants begin to hatch complaints against you; especially finding their master's ears open to entertain them: who by this time, perhaps, sees you worn out with business, and unfit for employment, and troubled with the Gout; And having gotten the most flowery and vigorous part of your age, and wasted your bodily strength, and worn you out like a torn garment, he looks about for some dunghill where to cast you, and entertains another more able to drudge; accusing you with the enticements of his page, or alleging that being an old man, you deflowered his maid, or laying some such crime to your charge; for which in the night time you are thrust out of doors by the neck, forsaken of all, poor, and carry nothing away with your age but an incomparable Gout; And having by length of time forgotten your first course of life and made your belly as large as a sack, it becomes an insatiate and never to be contented mischief. Your stomach will expect it's usual repletions, and grow enraged at denials. Besides no body will afterwards entertain you, being of a spent age, and become like an ancient decayed horse, whose very skin is of no use. The pretence, also, for which you were put away, carrying some possibility, will brand you for an adulterer, or a poisoner, or the like: So that your accuser, though he say nothing, will be believed against you, who are a Greek, of a light behaviour, and prepared for any mischief. For such they account us all, and not without good cause. For if I be not deceived, the reason why they hold such an Opinion of us is, because most of us who are taken into Families, for want of better knowledge, profess Magic, and Charms, and the Art to provoke Love, and to reconcile Enemies; which we call Learning, and set it off with a grave Gown, and a venerable Beard. Hence it comes to pass, that they have the like esteem of all, as they have of those whom they judge to be the best; especially when they observe our Flattery, both at Feasts, and in our Carriage at other times, and our extreme baseness, to submit ourselves to ways of gain. And therefore, not without cause, when they have turned them off, they mortally hate them, and seek all the ways they can to destroy them: as men who are able to divulge all the secrets of their life, having inwardly known them, and seen them naked; a point which pricks them to the quick: For as you have seen some fair Books, whose Covers are enamell'd, and guilt without, but contain within Thyestes eating his children at a Banquet, or Oedipus lying with his mother, or Tereus deflowering two Sisters: so these men are very glorious, and sightly without, but within hide many a Tragedy under their purple; whom if you rip open, and unwrap, you will find them lined with much Tragical stuff, not unlike that of Euripides, or Sophocles. However without, they show guilt and enamell'd. Their Consciousness therefore breeds their hatred, and makes them seek the ruin of those who fall from them; as men who are able to represent them on the Stage, and give their true description. For a Conclusion then, like Cebes, I will draw you the picture of this kind of life in a small Table; that by looking towards it, you may know whither it be to be entered into or no. I could wish some Apelles, or Parrhasius, or A●tion, or Euphranor, would limb it: but because such excellent and exact Painters are not now to be found, I will, as well as I can, give you a slender Image and Draught of it. Let there, then, be drawn a high guilded house, not situated on any low place, but aloft on a hill; and let the ascent to it be so steep, inaccessible, and slippery, that those who many times hope to aspire to the top, tumble down, and break their necks. Within, let Riches dwell, of a bright and amiable aspect. Let their Lover, having with much ado climbed up, and attained the door, at first sight grow amazed. And let Hope (whom you may also imagine to be well favoured, and diversely dressed) take him in this astonishment by the hand, and lead him in, and from his first entrance go before him: then let other women receive him, namely, Deceit, and Servitude, and deliver him over to labour. And let Labour after long exercise deliver the Wretch over to Old age, diseased, and wittherd in his face, and colour. Lastly, let Contempt hurry him to Despair; & from that time let Hope vanish, and forsake him, & fly away. Then let him be cast out, not at the Golden Porch, at which he entered, but at some Backdoor, or dark Outlet, naked, hungry, pale, aged, with one hand covering his shame, with the other choking himself. At his ejection let helpless Weeping and Repentance meet him, and double his misery. And let the Picture here end. Now do you, Timocles, having well weighed my discourse, consider, whither you be content to enter at the Golden Door, and be dishonourably thrust out at the Postern. And what course soever you undertake, remember the saying of a Wise man; God is not to be blamed, but your own Choice.   

A Defence of those who are employed for Reward.  
I Have long considered with myself, Excellent Sabinus, what you thought or said, when you read my Book, concerning those who are employed for reward. For I am verily persuaded you could not forbear laughing in the perusal. Though you made some objections by the way, which I will now answer agreeably to my writings. If my Divination fail me not, me thinks I hear you say; Is this he who wrote those things, and inveighed so bitterly against this course of life, and yet unmindful of his own satire, upon the turning of the shell, as they say, hath voluntarily put himself into an eminent and illustrious Service? What Midas, or Croesus, or streams of Gold, could once tempt him to forsake his dear Liberty, bred up with him of a child? Yet though he be not far from Aeacus, and have one foot in Charon's boat, now submits he himself to be tossed, and drawn, as if he were fastened by the neck with a golden Collar, or some great man's chain of Coral? Surely there is a wide difference between this new course and his writings. Rivers me thinks do now run backwards, and the order of things is inverted. Recantations are made for the worse; and all this change is not for the fruition of a Helen, or the conquest of a Troy, but merely that a good discourse may be subverted by an ill choice. Thus, in all likelihood, do you say to yourself; and are, it may be, ready to give more seasonable and friendly counsel, and such as becomes an honest man, and a Philosopher. If therefore I personate you right, I shall think myself happy, and will sacrifice to Eloquence: if not, do you supply my defects. 'Tis time than we shift the Scene, and that I be a Mute, and patiently for my cure submit myself to be lanced, or if you think fit, feared by you; and that you apply your medicines, and have your knife, and burning Iron in readiness. Taking your Cue, then, to speak, thus you accost me: Heretofore, my friend, your Book (as it well deserved) was much valued, and, as the report goes, was well received both by the multitude, and by as many of the learned as read it, or took it into their hands. For your composition is faultless, your narration various, and such as both shows your experience in business, and your perspicuity in the delivery. But above all, as your writings are generally useful, so especially to Scholars, who from hence are taught not to enter themselves rashly into Services. But when you shall alter your opinion, and prefer the contrary course, and bid a long farewell to Liberty, and practice that ignoble jambick, That where gain may be had, you are to serve against nature, take heed no man over hear you reading your own works, or meeting with them compare your present life with your writings. Pray also to Infernal Mercury, to besprinkle those who have heretofore heard of them, with the water of Oblivion: lest, like Bellerophon in the Corinthian Tragedy, you prove to have written a Book against yourself. For my part, I cannot see with what face you can defend yourself against your Accusers; especially if they should merrily praise your writings, and the liberty of them, and see you the Author waiting, and voluntarily submitting your neck to the yoke: since they might probably enough entitle some more generous person to your Book, and say you are but the jay, who triumph in borrowed feathers; or if it be yours, that you have done like Salaethus, who imposing a sharp Law upon the Crotonians against Adulterers, for which he was much reverenced, was not long after caught in the Act of incest, with his brother's wife. So some man may not unfitly compare you to Salaethus; But that he was more excusable, who (as he urged for himself) was drawn by his affection, and did voluntarily cast himself into the fire: upon which reason the Crotonians out of pity gave him his choice of Banishment. Whereas you much more absurdly, having written an exact description, and inveighed against the servile condition of those, who retain to great persons, and cast themselves into fetters, where they act and suffer a thousand Calamities, in your extreme age, when you are almost beyond the threshold, have made choice of an ignoble servitude, and are ready to triumph in it. By how much, therefore, the more eminent, and advanced you show, by so much the more are you laughed at, as one whose life contradicts your writings. Nor shall I need to urge any other complaint against you, then that of the excellent Tragedian; I hate that wise man who is not wise for himself. Your Accusers, perhaps, will not lack other examples to compare you to. Some will liken you to Actors in a Tragedy, who are Agamemnon or Creon, or Hercules upon the Stage; but in the Tiring house when they have put off their properties, are Polus, or Aristodemus, fellows hired to act, and many times hist, whipped and plucked off the stage at the mercy of the Theatre. Others will resemble you to an Ape, which they say Cleopatra had; which being taught to dance, a great while footed it very comely, and gracefully, and maintained her postures with great admiration, and kept time and measure with them who sung, and played a Hymeneal galliard: Till at length perceiving a Fig, or an Almond a far off, she tore of her vizard, and leaping to the Fig bid farewell to the fiddles, and dances, and fell to eating. So you, may some man say, who are no player, but a learned Author, and excellent Lawgiver, at the sight of a Fig have shown yourself an Ape, and a Philosopher but from the teeth outward; who conceal some things, and speak other; and leave it to men's suspicion to conjecture, that what you say or are praised for, hath but only touched your lips, and never wet your Palate. Your punishment hath followed you therefore; who, when you had audaciously insulted over other men's wants, not long after as good as sold your own Liberty by a Crier. And Adrastia was at your back, laughing at your Brags, and contempts of those indignities which you despised in other men: Because she foresaw, being a Goddess, that you would in time fall upon their course; and because you did not first spit in your own bosom, before you blamed those who through the many changes of fortune have been cast upon that condition. Suppose Eschines, after his accusation of Timarchus should have offended and have been questioned for the same fault: would it not have stirred the Laughter of the Spectators to see him inveigh against Timarchus, for a crime of youth, and being an old man commit the same himself? Lastly, you are like the Apothecary, who boasted much of his medicine against the Cough, and promised to cure men at one taking, and was all the while shaken with a Cough himself. This and much more, may such an Accuser, as you, say, in an Argument so spacious, and replenished with objections. 'Tis time then, I now turn myself to my Apology, and Defence, wherein my best way (who suffer voluntarily, and have submitted my back to the whip, nor deny it to be a disparagement) will be, perhaps, to fly to the common excuse, and pretend Fortune and Fate, and with their pardon to desire my reprehenders to consider that we are not our own Lords, but are swayed against our inclinations by some superior power, or one of the destinies, and are therefore excusable in all things which we either do or speak. But this way of defence is too Vulgar for you, my friend, to allow of; Though I have Homer for my Advocate, and those Verses from him, 
No man could ever yet his fate eschew:  
Assoon as we are borne fate rules our clue.  Laying aside, therefore, an Apology so unreasonable, if I say, that I was neither enticed by gain or any such like expectation, to undertake my present attendance, but that merely out of my admiration of the wisdom, valour, and nobleness of the person to whom I belong, desired to be employed in his affairs; I fear least to your former accusation you will think I flatter, and catch me, as they say, driving one nail with another, or a lesser fault with a greater● since flattery of all vices is the most servile, and therefore the worst. What remains, then, if neither of these Defences be allowable, but that I confess myself unable to make any sound defence at all? One Anchor more, perhaps, I have never yet cast, or wet, which is to pretend old age, sickness, and beyond both these poverty, which persuades men for its avoidance, to do or suffer all things. And here I might seasonably call in Medea in Euripides to my assistance, and with a little detorsion make her speak for me in lambicks, and say, 
The things I am about to do are ill,  
But that my poverty withstands my will.   
As for that piece of Theognis, 'tis known without my quotation; who says, They are not to be blamed, who, to avoid poverty, cast themselves into the deep sea, or fall headlong from a steep rock. These are the colours which another in my case would bring into his Apology; of which not one, I confess, is specious, or well favoured. But be confident of me, my friend, that I will not make use of one of them. For Argos was never so oppressed with famine, as to consult about the ploughing of the sands of Arabia; Nor am I so utterly unprovided of an answer, as to flee to such poor starting holes, for my defence. Consider, therefore, I pray, the great difference between one hired into a Rich man's family, to serve, and undergo the drudgeries, set down in my book, and one who receives pension from his Prince to look after public affairs, and imploys his parts in the service of the state. Consider this, I pray, and weigh these two conditions apart, and you will find that they differ, as the Musicians say, the whole Gamut: And that there is as much resemblance between these two courses of life, as between lead and silver, brass and Gold, wild poppy and a rose, a man and an ape. 'Tis true both receive pay, and are under another; But then there is a vast disproportion in their employments. The one undergoes a downright servitude, and is no better than a Mercenary household Drudge: whereas the other who handles public matters, and bestows his Labour upon Cities, and whole nations, is not to be blamed, or to be drawn into resemblance or made sha●er with the other in accusation, because both receive pay. For then all great officers are to be deposed, nor should the Governors of Provinces, Rulers of Cities, and Captains, or Generals, of Troops, and Armies, be honourably thought of, because there is a reward set to their employment. One exception, therefore, ought not to have the force of a general disgrace; nor are we to place all those who take reward in equal rank. Briefly, I said not in my book, that all that took payment were of a miserable condition, but only pitied those who under the pretence of their Learning were entertained, and enslaved by great Families. My employment, my friend, is utterly different. For though we be equal in our Domestic dependences, yet abroad I share in Government with the Emperor, and cooperate my part. For, if you mark well, no small portion of the Kingdom of Egypt is under my government: who ordain their forms of Judicature, and impose orders upon the people; and take records of whatever is done, or spoken, and judge of the plead of their Lawyers: and not only keep the Decrees of my Prince with all fidelity, after the safest and exactest manner, but deliver them to the people to be a perpetual rule to their obedience. Nor is my reward private, but from the Prince; nor contemptible, but paid by talents. And hereafter if matters hit right, I cherish no vain empty hopes to be made Ruler of some Province, or to have some Princely Employment cast upon me. I will yet take the liberty to clear myself from the Accusations thrown upon me by a more ample Defence; And dare tell you that No man doth business unrewarded, no not those of highest employment: I will not except Princes themselves. I speak not now of their Customs, and Tributes, which are yearly paid by their Subjects; but of their greater rewards, their Praises, public Reverence, and veneration for their good Deeds. As also Statues, Temples, and Altars, erected to them by their Subjects: all which are payments for the providence and care, which they sustain in looking after the Public, and studying the common good. So that if you will compare small things with great, and beginning at the top of the Heap, descend by all the Grains whereof it is composed, you will see, that we below differ from those aloft, but as the less from the greater, being all Mercenaries alike. If therefore I had enacted a Law that none should suffer themselves to be Employed at all, I might very well seem myself a Transgressor. But if there be no one such passage in my whole Book, and that it becomes every virtuous man to be employed, how can he better busy himself, then in assisting his friends in the best Employments, & in giving some clear public trial of himself, with what fidelity, care, and sweetness, he can discharge those affairs which are put into his hands, lest he fulfil the saying of Homer, and be an unprofitable load to the Earth? Besides, I would have my Reprehenders remember, that when they blame me, they accuse not a wise man, (if yet there be any wise man to be found) but one from among the people, who hath applied himself to learning, and therein attained some laudable proficiency, but never was practised to those sublime virtues, approachable only to great Scholars. Nor am I sorry for it, since I never yet met with the person, who in all things answered the Character of a Wise man. In the mean time I cannot but marvel, if you should dislike my present course of life; who long since know what great gains came in to me, when I was a pleader; at that time when you went to see France, and the Western Ocean, and met with me, who was then reckoned among the most high priced Orators. This Apology, my Friend, have I, amidst a thousand Employments, made to you, as one who shall not slightly value your favourable and full acceptance. For as for others, though they all should conspire in their Accusations, my protection shall be the old Proverb; Hippoclides cares not.   

The Tyrant-Slayer.  
The Argument.  
One got into a Fortress, where a Tyrant lived, with a purpose to kill him. But, not finding him, killed his Son, and left the sword in his body. The Tyrant coming in, and seeing his Son dead, with the same sword kills himself. He that slew the Son demands the reward of a Tyrant-slayer▪  
THough, O ye Judges, I have in one day slain two Tyrants; one aged and feeble, the other young and vigorous, and so the more apt to succeed in his Father's oppressions; yet I stand here to demand but one recompense for both. Of all those that ever killed Tyrants, I am the first who have freed you from two with one wound, and have slain the Son with my Sword, the Father with his Affection to his Son: who hath made us ample satisfaction for those things he hath done, in living to see his Son first murdered, and then (a thing till now strange) forced to be the Tyrant-slayer to himself. His Son died by my hand, and being dead, became my Engine to a second Murder: who in his life time partaked with his father in his Injustice, and at his death, as well as he could, became his Parricide. 'Tis I then, who have put an end to his Tyranny; and 'tis my Sword which hath wrought your deliverance. However I inverted the order of my slaughter, and achieved their murders an unusual way; killing him who was the stronger, and ablest to defend himself with my own hand, and leaving my bare sword to dispatch the other. I expected therefore from you something extraordinary, and that my rewards should in number equal those I have destroyed: seeing I have not only freed you from your present calamities, but from all fears of future, and have established you in a firm liberty; there being no heir left of your mischiefs. But on the contrary, after such glorious achievements, I am not only in danger to be dismissed by you unrewarded, but am the only man who am denied the recompense designed me by those Laws I have preserved. He, therefore, that withstands my demand, in my judgement doth it not with reflection upon the public, but out of sorrow to those who are slain, and revenge to him who was the author of their death. Afford me therefore your attention, Judges, whilst I decipher to you (though you know them already) the miseries of a Tyranny: for thereby you will both discern the greatness of my benefit, and increase your joys from the apprehension of those calamities from whence you are released. First then, we felt not a single Tyranny (as it many times befalls others) nor were enslaved in a single bondage, nor subjected to the desires of one Master; but of all others, who ever suffered the like, in stead of one Tyrant had two over us, and were miserably distracted by several oppressions. The Father indeed was the more moderate, and hardlier to be enraged, slacker in his punishments, and slower in his lusts; his age having at length mitigated his violence, and cast a bridle on his desires. Nay at the very first, as it was said, he was contrary to his own inclination put upon his unlawful practices by his Son; being not himself Tyrannical, but only in compliance with him: for how extreme dear his Son was to him, appeared by his death. His Son was to him all things; him he obeyed, oppressed whom he commanded, punished as he appointed, and observed him in all things. In a word, the Son was Tyrant over the Father, and the Father was but an Officer to his Sons lusts. And though the young man, by reason of his age, let the old enjoy the Honour, and esteemed not the name of the Kingdom; yet he, in truth, was the head▪ Tyrant. And though the Father fortified and secured his power by him, yet the Son alone enjoyed the fruits of the others Injustice. He it was who ordered the Guard, appointed Garrisons, cut off those who affected the Crown, and feared Conspirators. He it was, who made Eunuches, violated Wedlocks, and deflowered Virgins. All Slaughters, Banishments, Exactions, Tortures, and Injuries, were his bold Contrivances: whilst the old man only obeyed, and countenanced, and applauded the wicked enterprises of his Son. This made our calamities insupportable. For when the desires of the mind are backed by supreme power, they admit no limits of Irregularity. But that which grieved us most, was, that we foresaw a perpetual Slavery growing upon us, and the common wealth likely to descend in a succession, from one Master to another, and the people in a direct way to be made the Inheritance of a wicked Tyrant. Whereas it hath been no small comfort to men in our case, to be able to discourse, and say among themselves, This Tyrant will not always live, he will die in time, and we shall ere long be free: which fell not under our hopes. For we had in our eyes a Successor in the Tyranny, which made none of our Citizens dare to put in practice my adventure, though they were valiant, and had my attempt in their design, and wishes: But Liberty was despaired of by all, and the Tyranny seemed inexpugnable, though many had inclinations to the enterprise. This daunted me not, nor was I disheartened by the difficulty of the Action, nor frighted with the danger. But unassisted, and single, I went against a strong and numerous Tyranny; or rather not single, but assisted by my sword, which shared in my slaughter of the Tyrant. Having death before my eyes, and the public Liberty purchased by my death before my apprehension. First then encountering the outer Guard, and not easily putting the keepers to flight, and killing him that came next, and offered to make resistance, I reached at length the top of my adventure, the only strength of the Tyranny, and the spring head of all our miseries. And rushing into the keeper of the Castle, after a valiant defence, and resistance of many thrusts, and wounds I slew him. At which instant the Tyranny ceased, and my enterprise had an end. And from that time we recovered our Liberty. No impediment remained but an old, solitary man, unarmed, deprived of his Guard, especially of his great Protector, and unworthy to fall by a valiant hand. ay, therefore, most equal Judges, made this discourse to myself; All things are fallen out successfully, I have achieved my enterprise, and accomplished my designs. But how shall he that survives be slain? He is unworthy of me, or my hand, and if after my other glorious, valiant, and generous exploit, I should kill him, he would shame my victory: we must, therefore, find out some public executioner for him. But let him be first tortured, lest he gain by his punishment; let him see, and be racked at the sight of my sword, to which I leave the farther accomplishment of my design. Having thus consulted with myself, I left the place. He, just as I presage, killed himself, and put an end to the Tragedy. Hither, then, am I come, and have brought a Democracy with me, and do bid you take courage, and proclaim a general Liberty to all. From henceforth enjoy the benefit of my performances. The Fort you see is dispeopled of Tyrants; There is none left to bare sway. 'Tis in your power now to prefer, sentence, or contradict, according to the Laws. All which you are to ascribe to me, and my valour, and that one slaughter which the Father could not possibly survive: I cannot, therefore, but in Justice require a reward, answerable to my attempt: not that I am covetous of gain, or sordid in my desires, or one who would oblige my country to pay, but because I am willing to confirm by my reward, and not suffer my enterprise to die and pass away ingloriously, as imperfect and unworthy of recompense. But here my adversary may reply, and say, 'tis not reasonable I should be honoured, or rewarded, who have not slain a Tyrant, nor accomplished the Law, since something is imperfect in my achievement, which should make me capable of recompense. Let me ask him, what more he can require of me? Was it not my plot? Entered I not the Fort? Did I not kill? procured I not your Liberty? Doth any man rule or domineer over you? are you threatened by any Master? hath any one of your oppressors escaped me? You cannot gainsay me, but must confess, that you now enjoy a full peace; your laws are restored; your liberty is apparent; a Democracy is settled; your marriages are unviolated; your sons unprostituted; your Virgins safe; and the City free to celebrate the public felicity. And who is the cause, and contriver of all this? who removed your Calamities, and procured your welfare? If there be any who deserves to be honoured before me, I will decline my satisfaction, and resign to him my reward. But if I alone did all, attempted, put myself in hazard, scaled the Castle, slew, tormented, and made one the engine to kill the other; why should he detract from my achievement? or stir the disaffection of the people against me? But I slew not the Tyrant, and therefore have no right to the reward provided by the law. Tell me, what difference is there between killing him, and being the occasion of his death? Certainly, none at all. Nor was the intention of the Lawmaker any other, then merely to aim at Liberty, popular government, and the removal of Usurpers; And thereunto to propose honours, and rewards: which you cannot deny to have been by me achieved. For I slew him, without whom the other could not live; the slaughter was mine. I gave the wound, he only lent the hand. Question not then overcuriously the manner of his death, nor examine how he died, but whither he be dead, and whither dead by my means. Otherwise by your inquiries you may detract from one who deserves well of the state, because he slew not the Tyrant with a sword, but with a stone, or a log, or some other way. What if I had besieged the Tyrant, and starved him to Death? Had it not been a legal murder, because I slew him not with my own hand? or would you say I had not satisfied the Law, though I slew him a more cruel way? The only thing, therefore, you are now to make enquiry of is this, what usurper is left? What seeds of fear? What impression of Thraldom? If all be clear, and calm, 'tis a piece of envy and detraction in any man, for want of one slight circumstance in an Action, to deny virtue, and valour its reward. I remember the Laws distinguish (if I have not forgot their words through a long bondage) of a double cause of Death; if one man kill another with his own hand; or if he kill him not himself or with his own hand, but be the contriver, or occasion of his Death. And hath equally provided a punishment alike for both. Decreeing very justly that in such cases the attempt shall be equal to the Fact; and passing by the manner of the Murder as superfluous. You think fit, then, that he who shall thus kill another, shall be punished as a manslayer, and not have his pardon: and will you not allow me, who have in like manner saved my country, the rewards agreeable to one of such deserts? You cannot say I slew him unwittingly, and that my success was fortunate beyond my expectation. For what could daunt me having slain the stronger? Why did I leave my sword in the wound, but because I presaged what would afterwards come to pass? Unless you will say that he who is dead was no Tyrant, nor carried the name of one; and that you would not have awarded me any great recompense for the exploit, if I had killed him. But you cannot say so. A Tyrant, then, being slain will you not reward the Author, and occasion of his Death? O subtlety! Do you possess your Liberty, and yet question how he was slain? Or do you yet require more of him, who hath restored your popular government? But the Law, say you, inquires precisely what is done, and considers not curiously the manner and means of the Action. But what? shall not he that but expels a Tyrant be rewarded? He ought in Justice, having introduced Freedom instead of Bondage. But my fact is not a bare expulsion, or banishment, nor have I left them any hopes of future recovery, or restitution; But an utter taking away, and destruction of the whole Lineage; and an eternal extirpation of all our miseries. Examine then, if you please, my whole enterprise from the beginning to the end, and see whither any thing required by the Law have been omitted, and wherein I have come short of being the killer of a Tyrant. First, to such an attempt is required boldness of courage, and such an affection to ones Country, as refuseth not to encounter dangers for the common good, or to purchase the public safety with the loss of a private life. Have I failed hitherto? was I daunted, or did I sluggishly break through the perils, with which I foresaw I was to skirmish? You cannot say I did. Here, then, stay a little and consider, whither barely to intend, and project such an exploit were not glorious; and whither for my mere design, I may not justly claim the recompense of a good Patriot; or if I had failed of my will, and another coming after me had killed the Tyrant, tell me, had it been unreasonable for you to reward me? or if I should say, My dear Countrymen I purposed, intended, attempted, showed my good will, and am only worthy to be rewarded; what would you answer? But this is not all I can say; I scaled the Fort, Countrymen, and encircled myself with a thousand dangers, before I slew the Prince. For I would not have you think it an easy, or slight adventure, for one man singly to break through a Troop, to vanquish a guard, and to put such a multitude to flight: But to account it the Top, and pinnacle of the exploit. For a Tyrant is no hard thing to be encountered, and overcome, but those who guard, and defend the Tyranny; which who so conquers hath finished his enterprise, and left little else to be achieved. ay, then, had never approached the Tyrants, had I not first vanquished and overcome their Guards, and attendants. Upon which part of my adventure, before I go farther, let me dwell a little. I vanquished their guards, I say, and overcame their attendants, and left the Tyrant naked, disarmed, and undefended. Am I yet, think you worthy of Honour, or do you require his slaughter too? if you do, I can satisfy your expectation. Behold the Blood with which I am yet sprinkled, since the valiant, and stout murder of a youth of flourishing age, feared by all, by whom the Tyrant was secured from Treasons, and who was his confidence, and a greater protection to him then his Guards. And am I not yet, think you, worthy of reward, but shall I after all my great Actions, be sent away dishonourably? what if I had slain but one of his Guard, or an attendant on his person, or some favourite servant? Had it not been a glorious Act to ascend a Fort, and in the midst of a Garrison to kill a near friend of the Tyrants? Consider next him who was slain. 'Twas the son of the Tyrant; or rather the crueler Tyrant of the two; A master more insufferable, to revenge proner, in his injuries more furious; and above all the only heir of his father, and like to prolong our Calamities by his succession. Suppose I had only slain him, and that the Tyrant had saved himself by flight. I demand a reward for that Action. What say you? will you deny me? was't not he you dreaded? was not he your cruel, intolerable master? If I have not yet done enough, consider the heart and utmost of my exploit; that which my Gainsayer requires of me, I have gloriously achieved, and through another's wound have slain the Tyrant; not at one single blow (which perhaps after so much injustice he could have wished) but by a slow, and lingering grief, prostrating before his eyes the thing most dear to him, his son, I mean, vicious, but in the spring of his age, and flourishing, and, like his father, wallowing in his own blood, and Gore. These are the right wounds of parents, these the swords of him who would truly kill a Tyrant; And this is the death which cruel Tyrants are to suffer; and this is a revenge fit for so many oppressions. To die presently, as it were in a short swoone, and behold no tormenting spectacle, is a punishment too unworthy of a Tyrant. I was not ignorant, Judges, I was not ignorant, nor any man else, how passionately he was affected towards his son, and how he resolved not to survive him a minute. All parents are affectionate to their children; But he had a stronger and juster reason, having but him only to uphold, and preserve the Tyranny; To ward, and shield him from conspiracies, and fix the sceptre in his hand. 'Twas in my foresight, therefore, that if his affection did not, his despair would presently kill him; assoon as he considered, that having lost his safety with his son, he had no encouragement to live longer. In one Troop I presented to his apprehension his natural affection, grief, despair, fear, and terrors for the future. These were the forces I raised against him, and drove him to that fatal execution of himself. In revenge to you he died childless, tortured, lamenting, and shedding tears. His sorrow indeed was not long▪ but enough for a father. But that which is yet most cruel, he fell by his own hand: A death much more miserable, and bitter, then if another had been the author. Here is my sword, who claims it? whose weapon ever was it but mine? who carried it into the fort? who ever used it before the Tyrant? or who sent it to him? O Blade? thou partner, and successor, in my great exploits, after so many perils, and so many slaughters, are we neglected, and held unworthy of reward? should I demand a recompense for my sword only, and should say, Countrymen, when the Tyrant had a mind to kill himself, and for the time wanted a weapon, my sword supplied him, and became the instrument of all your Liberties; you would certainly decide some honour, or reward to the Blade. Nay would you not have been thankful to the master of so public an instrument, and have enroled him among those who have been benefactors to their Country? would you not have laid up my sword in your Temples, and have sacrificed to it as to the Gods? Consider, with me, I pray, what in likelihood the Tyrant did, or said before he killed himself. After I had stabbed his son, and thrust him through with many wounds, in the most open, and remarkable places of his body, the more to torment his father, with the spectacle, and rack him with the sight, he pitifully cried out and invoked his father, unable to assist, or rescue him, being both old and feeble, and having but just sight enough left to behold the Calamities of his house. ay, in the mean time, the contriver of the whole Tragedy, conveyed myself away, and left him a wounded body, stage, sword, and all things else for the finishing of my part. He entering, and seeing his only son gasping, and welring in his blood, struggling with death, having received wounds all over, and many of them mortal, fell into this exclamation: O my dear son! we are destroyed, butchered, and slain as Tyrants. Where is the Murderer? For whom reserves he me? or what intends he to do with me, who am already slain in Thee? doth he despise to kill me by reason of my age? or is it to prolong my punishment, and lengthen my death, and spin out my slaughter? Thus saying, he looks about for a weapon, (being himself unarmed, as still having his son for his defence) which was there ready for him, prepared before, and left by me for the ensuing Tragedy. Having drawn forth the sword out of the wound, Thou hast half slain me already, said he, now kill me outright. Be thou the relief and succour of a forlorn father; assist my decrepit hand with thy-edge, and stab me, whilst I am yet a Prince, and deliver me from my sorrows. Would I had received thy first stroke, and had died first: Though I had died as a Tyrant, yet I had left a revenger; whereas now I die not only without a son, but without one to kill me. Having thus said, he stabbed himself, trembling and unable to thrust home; having a desire, but not strength enough for the attempt. How many punishments were here? how many wounds? how many deaths? how many slaughters? how many Garlands due? To Conclude, then, you have all seen the son prostrated, and slain; no small, or easy achievement. You have seen the father fallen on his son, and mingling bloods together. Both the triumph of my sword, and made one sacrifice to your Liberty, and my Conquest. You have seen my sword lying betwixt them, and approving itself worthy of me its master, and witnessing how faithfully it dispatched my business: which had been less from my hand, and increased its glory from the strangeness. Lastly, I am he who have removed the Tyranny, though the carriage and progress of the achievement, like so many parts in a Tragedy, were divided among many. The chiefest part ● acted; the next, the Son; the third, the Father: my Sword was Engine and Servant to us all.   

The Disinherited Son.  
The Argument.  
A Disinherited Son learned Physic, and caring his Father of a Frenzy, after he was given over by other Physicians, was restored to favour. Afterwards being commanded to cure his Stepmother of the like Frenzy, and refusing, he is disinherited the second time. He defends himself.  
THat which my Father hath now done, O ye Judges, is neither new nor strange; nor is this the first time he hath been carried away by his displeasure; but hath heretofore made use of this Law, and is practised in his proceedings against me at this Tribunal. All that is new in my present Misfortune is, that having committed no offence, fit to be brought into Accusation, I am in danger to be punished for my Art; because it cannot in all things obey his impossible commands. Then which what can be more unreasonable? For he requires that my Skill should be as great as his Injunctions, and that I should work Cures, not as my Profession is able, but as he is pleased to impose. I could, therefore, wish there were not only Receipts in Physic to recover people distracted, but those also who are without cause inclined to passion: that so I might cure my Father of one disease more; who being perfectly freed from one Distraction, is carried by his anger into another. And to make my c●se the more deplorable, he is recovered to every body else; only against me, who recovered him, he still retains his fury. You see how I am rewarded for my Cure, who am cast off by him, and made a Stranger to his Family the second time. As if he had only restored me for a while, that to my greater infamy he might often banish me his house. To those cures which fall within the compass of my skill, I expect not to be commanded; who voluntarily, and unsent for, wrought his recovery: but where the Malady carries despair with it, I would not willingly be an undertaker. Of all others I have good reason not to attempt the cure of this woman: considering what I am likely to suffer from my Father, if I miscarry; who, for not daring to adventure upon her, am disinherited. I cannot therefore, O ye Judges, but bewail my Stepmother in the case she is in; for she was a virtuous woman: next my Father, who suffers in her Madness; but especially myself, who am thought disobedient, because I cannot effect what I am required, both for the greatness of the disease, and the smallness of my skill. To be disinherited, then, for not undertaking a cure, which I am not able to effect, I hold most unjust: and desire you to judge from these present proceedings, upon what grounds I was cast off heretofore. Though I doubt not but for the clearing of them, my Behaviour and life have long since been my Defence. To those things whereof I am now accused, I will answer as well as I can; having first briefly acquainted you with the state of my case. At that time, when my Father ceased not to proclaim me for a stubborn, rebellious, disobedient Son, the disgrace of my Parents, and infamy of my house, I thought it best, not to make only a short Defence, but leaving his house, thought my best remedy and appeal would be to my future carriage, and life; when it should appear how free I was form his aspersions, and in what honest studies I employed myself, and what virtuous company I kept. For I then foresaw, and had it in my suspicion, that my Father being of no very sound mind, would at some time or other without my desert grow furious, and hatch false accusations against me. And some there were who construed those proceedings, as the beginning of his Distraction; and judged his causeless hatred of me, his froward carriage, his meditated rail, hard censures, clamorous fits of anger, and extreme inclination to Choler, as so many threats, and forerunning darts of an approaching Frenzy. Wherefore I thought it would concern me to learn Physic with all speed: and thereupon went to Travel, and acquainting myself with the most approved Physicians of other Countries, with much labour and diligent study I learned the Art. At my return I find my Father plainly distracted, and given over by other Physicians, who do not sound, or make any exact judgement of diseases. ay, therefore, as it became a pious Son, neither remembered my Abdication, nor stayed to be sent for; having, indeed, nothing personal to lay to his charge, since his ill dealings with me, were not his own, but the faults of his disease. Offering, therefore, myself, as I said, unsent for, I proceeded not presently to his cure; which had been to depart form my usual practice, and from the laws of our Profession, by which we are taught first to examine whither the disease be curable, or incurable, and exceed the limits of our Art. And then if it be undertakeable, we apply remedies, and employ our whole studies about the recovery of the Patient. But if we find the Malady too strong, and not to be conquered, we forbear to prescribe at all; but observe their ancient Rule, who were the Inventors and Fathers of the Art, who forbid us to meddle with overgrown diseases. Finding, therefore, my Father nor past hope, nor his distemper past cure, having first weighed all circumstances, I undertook him, and confidently gave him Physic. Many of the standers by suspecting my prescription, spoke in disparagement of the cure, and were ready to call me into question: my Stepmother also was present, fearful, and distrustful, not of hate to me, but care to him; whom she perfectly knew so ill disposed, having long conversed, and been a witness to his Distemper: yet I not at all discouraged (knowing his Symptoms did not lie, and that my Art could not deceive me) at fit times stole a cure into him. Though some, who were my friends, dissuaded me from undertaking; lest miscarrying in my attempt, I should draw a fresh accusation upon myself, and be thought to have poisoned my Father, in remembrance of my Injuries. In a word, in a short time he recovered, and grew sober again, and had the perfect use of his understanding. His neighbours and friends marvelled, my Stepmother applauded me, and publicly congratulated, me, for my good success; him, for his recovery. He also (for so much I can witness for him) without any delay, or consultation with any body, no sooner understood things from those who were present, but cancelled his Abdication, made me his Son again, calling me his Preserver and Benefactor? confessing he had now received an exact T●yall of me, and excusing himself for what had formerly passed. This much rejoiced many of the company, those especially who were honest. Though it grieved others, for whom the rejection of a Son made more than the Reconcilement: so that all were not a like affected. But I could see some change colour, and appear troubled in their looks, and angry in their countenance, the sure marks of Envy, and discon●tent. We in the mean time, as 'twas fit, interchanged joys and embraces, being now reconciled to one another. Not long after, O ye Judges, my Mother in law fell sick of a cruel and desperate Distemper. For, as I observed from her first surprise, it was not a slight, or superficial kind of Madness, but an ancient and inveterate, which had long lodged in her soul; and having got the victory, than broke forth, and discovered itself. We have many other signs to know who are incurably mad, but the common one I observed in her, which is this; that to all others she is quiet, and calm, and as long as they are present falls into no ragings: But if she see a Physician, or but hear his voice, she presently falls a raving at him, which is an infallible sign that she is irrecoverably distempered. All I could do, was to bemoan and pity her, as it well became me, who without her merit became thus distracted. Yet my father out of his want of skill (for he neither knows the spring nor cause, nor growth of the distemper) commands me to cure her, and to prescribe her his potion: supposing it to be the same kind of madness, and the like disease to his, and a distraction of the same nature, and the same way curable. And when I tell him, that which is most true, that 'tis not possible to restore her, and confess myself overmastered by the disease; he fumes, and chides, and says I refuse of purpose, and deny her my help, and so makes the weakness of my Art a Crime. Agreeing herein with all others oppressed with sorrow, that they grow angry to hear truth plainly and freely told them. ay, then, as well as I can, will make my defence, and answer both for myself, and profession: and will take my beginning from the Law, by which he would disinherit me; where it shall appear, that his power is not the same as ' 'ttwas before. For the Lawgiver, my good father, hath not given this power to all, nor intended that all sons should be disinherited, as oft as the father list, or upon what discontents he lift. But as he hath allowed parents in some cases to be displeased, so he hath provided that children without their Desert shall not be rejected. And for this reason, he permits not punishments to be Arbitrary, or without judicial Trials; but hath appointed a Tribunal, and Judges, to determine things without prejudice, or passion. For he saw that many men were many times moved to anger upon unjust grounds: one out of his belief to a false report, another upon the misinformation of a servant, or a malicious wife: He thought it not fit, therefore, that matters should pass without Legal examination, or that children without any defence should presently be condemned; But the hourglass is set up, reasons are shown, and nothing is left undiscussed. All the power, therefore, which a father hath, is to appeal to you, O ye Judges: The power to Judge whither his complaint be reasonable belongs to you: Consider not then, yet a while, what my crime is, for which my Father is displeased; but consider, first, whither he have authority to disinherit me again, having once cast me off; used the power of the Law; accomplished the Dominion of a parent; and after all this received me into his family, and cancelled his Abdication. For my part, I cannot but think it most unreasonable, that the punishments of children should be numberless, or that their Dooms should be infinite, and their fears perpetual: Or that the Law should permit parents, sometimes to Cashier, afterwards to recall their Act, than again put it in force; and so shuffle and toss the Law up and down as they see occasion. 'Twas fit, indeed, the Law for the first time, should make the parent Lord of his child's punishment, and should give authority to his displeasure. But when the parent hath once spent his authority, and sufficiently used the law for satisfaction of his anger, and hath once again restored his son, out of his persuasion of his amendment; he ought to be constant to his pacification, and not fall back, or alter his resolutions, or make void his Act. At Nativities, whither he that is born will prove well or ill, I suppose cannot fall under any certain knowledge. And for that reason 'tis permitted to parents, to cast off those who degenerate from their descent. But when a Father, not constrained, but out of his own authority and choice, shall approve, and restore his son, what device can he have for his inconstancy, or what farther use is there of Laws? For thus will the Lawmaker say; If your son were vicious, and worthy of rejection, why did you restore him? why did you receive him again into your house? why did you frustrate the Law? You were free, and Lord of your own Actions. You are not to play with the Laws, as you list, nor are statutes to vary with your Changes; nor Acts of state to be sometimes of force, sometimes invalid, or Magistrates to sit as witnesses only, nay as officers of your pleasure, to punish or absolve at your Discretion. You begat your son once, and gave him education once; and, therefore, 'tis once permitted you to reject him, provided you do it upon just reasons. But to assume an endless, perpetual, frequent, and arbitrary power to yourself, is above the Commission of a father. Wherefore, O ye Judges, be it far from you to grant, that having made a voluntary reconciliation, and dissolved his first sentence, and made void his displeasure, he should have Liberty to revive his past punishment, or have recourse to the Dominion of a Father, which is long since expired, unprivileged, forceless, and spent. Consider, also, the practices of other Courts, where Judges sentence by Lot, which if any man think unjust, the Law allows him to appeal to another Court. But if any voluntarily assign their own Judges, and refer their cause to Umpires, 'tis otherwise. For their Decisions, which at first might have been refused, after they are once chosen Arbitrators, are in Justice to be stood to. So you, my father, (in whose choice it was whither you would have restored me, till I had been thought worthy of my Ancestors) out of your belief of my reformation, having once restored me, cannot again disinherit me. For by your own Testimony I have been judged unworthy of the like rejection, and acknowledged worthy of your favour. You are not, therefore, to repent of your restitution, but to confirm your reconcilement, after your several judgements and two sentences: one when you ejected me, the other when you revoked your purpose, and took me again into your Family; Cancelling your former Decrees, and establishing future. Be constant then to your own Acts, and make good your own Ordinances. Since your purposed, professed, and obliged yourself to be one, be still a Father. Were I not a natural, but an adopted son, I should think 'twere not lawful for you again to disinherit me. For what was once in your power to do or not do, being once done, is not in your power to be recalled. How can it, then, be reasonable to expel often, or to deprive a natural son of his relation, having by a voluntary election and decree called him back from expulsion? Suppose I were your servant, and you upon your suspicion of some misdemeanours should cast me into ●etters, and afterwards out of your persuasion of my innocence should make me a free man. Do you think 'twere Lawful the next time you are displeased to make me again your servant? 'tis not in your power. The Law's decree that such Acts shall be firm, and for ever inviolable. Though, then, I have many reasons to prove that a father having once cast off his son, and afterwards recalled his rejection, cannot again cast him off, yet what I have said is sufficient. Next, consider, I pray, what kind of son he disinherits. I forbear to tell you, that he did cast of one unlettered before, but a Physician now, (for I seek not refuge from my Art;) or that I was then a youth, but am now a grown man, and have given proof that I have done nothing unbeseeming my age. For these would seem slight pleas. For heretofore when I was cast off, as I had committed no offence, so I had deserved no great favour. Now I am expelled a preserver and benefactor. And what greater piece of ingratitude can there be, then for one newly saved by my skill, and delivered from a dangerous distemper, to reward his cure with such dealings; and without any reckoning at all to forget his recovery, & to banish him who dutifully obeyed, when he was unjustly cast off; & not only forgot his expulsion, but cured the expeller, & settled him in his right mind again? For 'tis no small or vulgar benefit, O ye Judges, I conferred upon him, yet am thus ill rewarded. And though he were senseless of his distraction, yet you all know what he did, and suffered, and how ill he was affected when I undertook him; and when other Physicians gave him over, and his own Servants fled from, nor durst come near him, I recovered him as you see, and enabled him to accuse me, and discourse of the Laws. Or if you require an Example, My Father, when, not long since, you were just crazed, as your wife is now, I reduced you to your Wits again. 'Tis not equal then, that my Duty should be thus recompensed▪ or that your Recovery should be my Ruin. The greatness of my Benefits will clearly appear from those things whereof you accuse me. For if you hate me, because I do not cure your Wi●e extremely crazed, and at the point of Expiration, why do you not much rather love me for releasing you of the like Distemper, and confess yourself obliged for your delivery from such Distractions? But you, against all equity, no sooner come to yourself, but presently question me; and are no sooner recovered, but you fall to your old punishments, return to your former hatred, and proceed by the same law. Is this your fair Requital of my Skill, or meritorious Recompense of my Administrations, to recover only for the undoing of your Physician? Will you permit him, O ye Judges, to punish his Preserver? to expel the Author of his safety? to hate him, who gave him his understanding? and to take Revenge of his Recoverer? you will not, if you be Friends to Justice. Had I at this present committed some heinous Offence, yet my former obligations upon him were such, that the memory and apprehension of them ought to have excused me, and have gained his pardon: especially where the benefit is so great, as to be put in Balance with all after Accidents: as mine was to him whom I saved, and who owes his whole life to me; whose gift it is that he is, is sober, and understands; especially, when all other Physicians despaired of him, and confessed themselves too weak for his Cure. And to raise the merit of my benefit yet one story higher, at that time when I was not his Son, and had no necessary tye upon me, but was free, and a stranger, and discharged of my natural obligation, yet I neglected him not, but came voluntarily, unsent for, and of my own accord; succoured, relieved, cured, restored, observed him as my own Father; purged myself from my Abdication, allayed his displeasure by my application; abrogated the Law by my piety, purchased my readmission into his family by the greatness of my Benefit; declared my Fidelity towards my Father in a time of peril; insinuated myself into him by my Art, and showed myself a natural Son in the midst of his calamities. What travails, and toils, think you, did I undergo, who continually visited, attended, watched my opportunities; sometimes giving way to my Father's ragings, sometimes applying my skill according to the pawses, and intermissions of the disease? 'Tis the hardest and most dangerous part in Physic, to cure, or be near men so affected, who many times as they are enraged by their Fit, discharge their Fury upon the standers by. Yet I, not at all daunted, or affrighted, attended him; and after a long and various conflict with his disease, at last I vanquished it by Physic. Nor let any man who hears me, presently say, What a great piece of work 'tis to administer a Purge? Many things are first to be done: way is to be made for the Potion, the Body to be prepared for the Reception, and to be carefully ordered; sometimes taken down and macerated, sometimes raised by fit diet; sometimes to be put into gentle motion and exercise; sometimes to be cast into a reposedness, sleep, and left solitary: to which courses in other diseases the Patient in many times obedient. But men distracted by reason of the liberty of their minds, are unruly, and intractable, dangerous to their Physician, and obstinate against his prescriptions: whereby, many times, when the Cure is almost finished, and we are almost Master of our Hopes, some small error gives new force to the distemper, perverts all our former proceedings, sets back the Cure, and defeats our Art. After all these undertake then, after my wrestling with an enragement so dangerous, and my conquest of the most invincible disease of all other, will you yet give him power to disinherit me, and permit him to interpret the Laws, as he pleases, against his Preserver, and suffer him to make war with Nature? ay, out of obedience to Nature, O ye Judges, have cured & saved my Father, when his Injuries were upon me. If he, therefore, taking the advantage of the Law, as he says, ruin a Son so deserving, & cut him off from his Family, he is a Child-hater, I a Lover of my Parent: I fulfil & embrace the laws of Nature, he breaks & violates them. O Father unjustly displeased! O Son more unjustly observant! for I cannot but, compelled by my Father, blame myself, that being in his hatred, I love him undeservedly, and beyond his merit. Nature commands Parents to love their Children, more than Children to love their Parents: yet this man wilfully shuts his eyes against the Laws, which forbid the expulsion of faultless children; and contemns Nature, which hath planted in Parents such strong affection to those whom they beget. For notwithstanding I have the greater Title to his affection towards me, yet he neither makes the greater return, nor yet (which is less) takes example by me, or imitates the expression of mine to him: but rather (which is the height of calamity) hates me for my affection, expels me for my piety, injures me for my Merits, disinherits me by those Laws which were made for my relief. O war, where the Laws are made to combat Nature! Things are not as you suppose, my Father, you misinterpret just Laws, which are not to fight with natural affection. They conspire, and are of mutual assistance in their protection from Injuries. In wronging one that deserves well, therefore, you commit an offence, both against Nature, and the Laws, which of themselves are equal, just, and favourable; but that you draw them from their institution, and arm them against one Son as against a multitude of Offenders, and press fresh punishments from them, which are willing to exact no more than the obedience of Children to their Parents; nor were at all made against the Innocent. But, certainly, they allow men to sue others, who are not thankful to their Benefactors. In stead of thanks, then, to punish for benefits received, is worth your consideration, whether there can be a greater piece of Injustice. By this time, then, I hope 'tis clear, that 'tis not in his power to disinherit the second time, who hath once exercised that power, and taken the full advantage of the Law; nor is it reasonable to cast off one, to whom he is so much engaged for courtesies; or to deprive him of his family. Let me now proceed to the cause of my expulsion, and examine the quality of my Offence: where 'twill be fit I once more have recourse to the Intention & mind of the Lawmaker. Here, should I a while grant it to be in your power to disinherit as often as you please; nay should I grant you this authority over me, from whom you have received great Benefits: you cannot simply, and for every light cause proceed to Expulsion. For the Lawmaker doth not say upon whatsoever complaint of the Father let the Son be expelled; as if his bare will, or accusation were enough. For than what need were there of your Tribunal? but it bids you, O ye Judges, inquire whether the Father's displeasure have any weighty, or just ground, or no. And this for the present I desire you to consider. I will begin from what happened upon his recovery. He no sooner, then, came to himself, but his first act was to cancel his Abdication; acknowledging me for his Preserver, Restorer, and what not? There was no Offence, I suppose, in all this. Afterwards, what can he complain of? what respect, or observance of a Son did I omit? when did I ever lie abroad? what unseasonable meetings, or drink can you object? who ever complained of my Intemperance, or quarrel with a Pimp? No body. Now these are the chief disorders for which the Law permits Expulsion. But my Stepmother fell sick. Was that my fault? or am I to be punished for her Frenzy? No, say you. Why then? Because being commanded to cure her, you refused; and therefore deserve to be cast off for your disobedience to your Father. Give me leave a while, Judges, to open to you those things wherein I could not obey him, and for which I am undutiful. First, then, let me in short tell you, that the Law allows him not to enjoin what he list, nor am I bound in necessity to obey all his Impositions whatsoever. For some Commands may be refused, though others are allowed their punishments. As if my Father should be sick, and I should forsake him; or should commit the business of his house to me, and I should neglect it; or enjoin me to look to his country affairs, and I should refuse▪ These, and the like, were just colours and pretences for the complaints of a Father. Other things, concerning their Arts, or the exercise of them, are left to the liberty of the Children, especially where the Parent is not endamaged. If a Father should say to his Son, who is a Painter, Limne this piece, and not that; or being a Musician, should bid him play one Lesson, and not another; or should say to him being a Carver, Work me this Statue, and not that; would any man think it fit he should disinherit his Son for denying to submit his Art to his Directions? I believe not. By how much than Physic is more honourable, and useful for the life of men, by so much aught the Professors to be the more free. Since 'tis but Justice, that an Art for its Exercise and use, should be privileged, and not enforced, or commanded, being a thing sacred, professed by the Gods, and studied by wise men; and therefore not to be prostituted to the Law, and made liable to the fear and punishment of the Magistrate, much less to the pleasure, threats, or anger of an illiterate Parent. If then I had boldly, and openly said to you, I will not cure her, though I can; I have learned my skill only for myself, and you my Father, to all others I will be unexpert: what Tyrant is so cruel as to force me against my will to use my Art? Offices of skill, if I be not deceived, are to be obtained by Courtship, and entreaties, not by Laws, quarrelings, and Courts of Justice. A Physician is to be persuaded, not compelled; to come voluntarily, not to be drawn by terror; nor to be forced to a Cure, but willingly to undertake it. An Art, then, is free from the Authority of a Father, or the payment of Tribute; Common wealths having decreed Honours, Precedencies, Immunity from Taxes, and privileges to Physicians. Thus might I say in defence of my Art, though you had taught me, or had spent much care, and cost in my study of it; and though this cure were possible, and yet I should refuse it. Consider, then, the Injustice of your dealing, who deny me the liberty, and use of that, which is purely my own. I learned this Art when I was not your Son, nor subject to your laws; yet I learned it for your cure. You were the first, who reaped benefit by it, though you contributed nothing to the Acquisition. What Tutor had you in pay? what laid you out in Receipts? nothing at all: but poor, and distressed as I was, only by the pity of my Teachers, I attained my skill. All the allowance I had from you towards my studies, was Sorrow, Solitude, Poverty, Hatred of my Acquaintance, and avoidance of my Kindred. For these good deeds you would have me employ my skill, and would be Master of that Knowledge which I got when you were not my Master. Let it suffice, that heretofore I have voluntarily and no way obliged, bestead you; when I could not, after I had done, demand so much as Thanks for my pains. 'Tis not fit my Benefit should ever after prove my necessity: or because I once befriended you with my Will, you should from thence take occasion to enjoin me tasks against it; or that it should be drawn into a custom, that when a Physician hath wrought one Cure, he should for ever be bound to cure as many as the party cured should enjoin. For than we should make our Patients our Lords, and enslave ourselves, and our reward should be to serve and obey them in all their Commands. Then which, what can be more unequal? Because I recovered you from a dangerous distraction, do you therefore think you have authority of my Skill? Thus might I plead for myself, had my Father commanded me something possible, and I had not precisely, and necessarily obeyed him. But now, I pray, consider the nature of his Imposition. Because says he you cured me of my Lunacy, and my Wife is taken with the same Distemper, (for so he thinks,) and is given over by other Physicians, as I was; and because you have given a clear Trial, that you can heal all Infirmities, cure her also, and ease her of her distraction: which being barely so spoken, especially before a man unlearned, or unskilld in the profession, would sound very reasonable. But if you will give me leave to speak for my Art, I shall desire you to consider that we are not omnipotent, nor are the natures of all Diseases alike, nor their cure the same; nor have our Prescriptions in all the like powerful success. And then the difference will appear between an unwillingness to cure, and a disability. Wherefore lend me a while your attentions, whilst I play the Philosopher, and present you with a discourse of things, neither unpleasant, fruitless, or impertinent to my profession. First then, the Natures and tempers of all Bodies are not the same, though plainly arising from the same elements. But some partake more one element, ●ome less: which I speak with application to the Bodies of men, which are not alike, or the same in all, either in Temper, or Constitution; but differ both in magnitude, and form. Whence it necessarily falls out, that the diseases bred in them sometimes are slight, and meet their Cures, sometimes are desperate, especially in those bodies which easily take in Infection, and are afterwards as strongly distempered by it. He, therefore, who thinks all Fevers, or Consumptions, or Ptifficks, or Distractions to be alike in all bodies, is neither of those who are wise, nor discursive, nor experienced in these matters. That which is easily curable in one, is not so in another. For example, the same Corn sown in several grounds; in a champion, deep, moist, sunny, windless, and well manured field, springs up in a full ear, and yields a glad and abundant harvest. But 'tis otherwise in a mountainous, rocky, sunless, h●lly country, according to the diversity of Soils. So diseases, according to the soils where they are received, prove either fruitful, and grow; or whither, and pine. Yet my Father passing all this over without consideration, thinks all distractions in all bodies alike, and their cure the same. But for an addition to all, I have yet said, that a woman's body differs much from a man's, both for diversity of distemper, and hope or despair of Cure is not hard to be known. For the bodies of men are well knit, and sinewy, accustomed to labours, motion, and exercises abroad: but the bodies of women are washy, loose, bred in the shade, pale for want of blood, scarcity of heat, and superfluity of cold humours; and are therefore more liable to diseases than men, more impatient of Physic, and more disposed to frenzies. For having in them much choleric, light, provocative matter, and small strength of body, they easily slide into distempers. 'Twere unreasonable, therefore, to require of a Physician the same Medicine for both, seeing how much they differ from their very births, both in their whole manner of life, all their actions, exercises, and studies. When you speak of madness, therefore, add withal, that 'tis a woman's madness. And confound not several distractions under one and the same name; But distinguish them, as nature hath: and then consider how far they severally admit cures. We Physicians, as I said before, have first regard to the complexion, and temper of the patient, and do examine what humour he most partakes of; whither he be cold or hot; young, and vigorous, or decayed and acient; of great, or little stature; gross or slender; and the like: which he that shall exactly consider, is worthy to be credited, either when he despairs of a cure, or undertakes it. For there are numberless kinds of frenzies, springing from numberless causes, of divers compellations. To dote, and to be beside ones self, is not the same; And 'tis one thing to rave, 'tis another thing to be crazed. Though all these names be but higher or lower degrees of the same distemper. Besides, men have one cause of their distraction, women another. Again, among men, the cause in young men is different from that in old: their ragings spring most commonly from suffers; the others from their importunate spleen, and frowardness, which they many times discharge upon their family; and which first makes them disquiet, then by degrees converts into distraction. But infinite are the distempers in women, which makes them so easily run mad; Though the chief be their extreme hatred, or envy at the success of their enemy; sometimes grief, and for the time anger: Any of which, after a long growth, and nourishment, end in madness. This, my father, is your wife's case; who in likelihood hath contracted her phrenzye, from a long sadness. For she shows no signs of envy, no not in her fits. And, therefore, is not to be cured by the skill of any Physician. If any will undertake, and recover her, my disobedience will deserve your hatred. Though thus much I must tell you, that though her distraction were not quite so desperate, but that there were some hope of recovery, yet would I not willingly meddle with her, nor venture to give her Physic; for fear of my success, and the ill reports of people. You see 'tis the general opinion, that all children are odious to their stepmothers, though never so good natured; who are thought peculiarly to inherit the distemper common to all women kind: which might breed a suspicion in some, if the disease should prove incurable, and my prescriptions fail, that I juggled, and dealt treacherously in my Administrations. But with your wife, my father, thus stands the case, and I speak from my experience, she will not be better, should she take a thousand purges. 'Twere, therefore, folly to undertake her: unless you be earnest with me to lose my labour, and have a mind to pull disgrace upon me. Let me still be the envy of those of my profession. And if you will again expel me, though I be forsaken of all, yet shall there be duty in my wishes. But suppose, (which the Gods forbid) your distraction should return, (for distempers of that nature upon the least provocation grow again,) what am I to do then? You know well I would cure you then also; nor will I ever neglect the obligation imposed upon me by nature, nor forget my Original, and descent. But whither after you are again recovered, I may believe your reconciliation, Judge you. In the mean time doing as you do, you invite your disease, and refresh your madness. You were but yesterday, or the day before recovered from your distemper, and you now rage again, raise clamour, and, which is worst, fall into choler, give way to your Hatred, and recall the Laws. O, my Father, these were the entrances to your former madness.   

Alexander, Or the false Prophet.  
PErhaps, my dear Celsus, you think you have set me a light, and easy task, when you enjoin me to send you Alexander of Abonwall, the impostor's life, Tricks, Adventures, and cousenages, written in a book. But he, who shall exactly describe them all, shall find it an enterprise as hard as to write the deeds of Alexander the son of Philippe: the one being as eminent for his villainy, as the other for his valour. Yet upon condition you will read me with pardon, and supply the defects of my narration with your own Additions, I will undertake the work: and will endeavour to purge, if not all, yet as much of Augea's Oxstall, as I can, by carrying forth some few Baskets full of filth; that from thence you may guess how great and unmeasurable the Dung was, which three thousand Oxen were able to make in so many years. Though I cannot, in the mean time, but blush both for you and myself. For you, who think fit a person so wicked should be committed to memory, and writing: For myself, for employing my labour in the History and Actions of a fellow not worthy to be read by Scholars, but to be seen in some populous and ample Theatre dismembered by Apes, and Foxes. Yet if any shall accuse us, we can defend ourselves by example. For Arrianus, Epictetus' Scholar, a man much reverenced at Rome, who spent his whole life in study, shall in like case be our Apology. For he refused not to write the life of Tilliborus the Thief. But I am to speak of a Thief much more famous, and cruel: who rob not in woods, or mountains, but in Cities; nor made Mynia only, or Ida his walk, or beset some few wild places of Asia, but (as I may so say) overspread the whole Roman Empire with his Robberies. First, then, I will give you a draught of his person, and draw his picture to you as well as I can; though I be no very skilful Painter. For his Bodily character, he was tall of stature, well set, of a goodly aspect, and, to say truth, of a Divine presence: white of Complexion, his Beard not thick: his Hair partly native, partly artificial, but so resembling the natural, that many took it for his own. His eyes sparkling, and expressing a Divine possession, or rapture: his voice sweet, and clear. In a word, for his Lineaments, Shape, and Figure, he was every way faultless: but for his Soul and Mind, Let me, O Hercules, thou expeller of mischiefs, and thou, O jupiter, preventer of sad Accidents, and Castor and Pollux, ye Twin-protectors from Shipwreck, rather fall into the hands of Enemies, then have to do with him. For in wit, projects, and sharpness, he exceeded all others: he had curiosity, quickness of apprehension, memory, & aptness to all the Sciences in excess. All which he employed to the worst; & furnished with those natural helps, quickly became the Top of all the famous Rogues that ever were, & excelled the Cercopians, Euribatus, Phrynondas, Aristodemus, and So●stratus. For writing upon a time to his Son in law Rutilianus, his modestest expression was the comparing of himself with Pythagoras. Nay with Pythagoras, pardon, though he were a wise man, and of a Divine understanding, had he lived till now, he had (I believe) been thought but a Child to him: which I desire you not to take as spoken in disparagement of Pythagoras, as if I compared them together for the resemblance of their Actions. But let any man sum, and compute the worst, and most reproachful things which pass in slander of Pythagoras (to which I cannot give any credit as Truths) they will not make the least part of Alexander's Impostures. For you are to present him to your Imagination as one; the temper of whose Soul was various, compounded of Lies, Deceits, Perjuries, and Juggle; active, daring, flexible, industrious to pursue projects, persuasive, apt to gain belief, and to act virtue, and to profess that which he had least in design. No man, therefore, but at first acquaintance departed with this opinion of him, that he was of all men the most excellent, just, severe, and farthest from Tricks. Then his aims were always high, not petty, or poor, and his mind always bend to great erterprises. When he was yet a Boy, being, as I have heard, and as far as I can judge of the Spring by the Stubble, of very beautiful lineaments, he prostituted, and let himself out to as many as would hire him. Among others, he was entertained by one of those Impostors, who profess Magic, and Enchantments, the Art to provoke Love, bewitch Enemies, find Treasures, and obtain Inheritances, who, perceiving him Toward, and apt to act a part in his Employments, and as much enamoured of his devices, as he was of his Feature, taught him his Art; and from that time used him as his Officer, Apprentice, and Servant. His profession in public was Physic, having learned of Thoon the Egyptian's Wife, many Receipts to cure, many to kill, all which he afterwards bequeathed to the other as his Heir. This enamoured Doctor was by birth a Cappadocian, and one of those who accompanied, and conversed with Apollonius Tyaneus, through all the passages of his Tragedy. You see, then, what man I describe to you, for his School, and Company. After his Master's death, Alexander, whose Beard was now grown, being reduced to great poverty, and unable by his handsome shape, which now began to wither, to maintain himself, betook himself to no small designs: but joining acquaintance with a certain Byzantine Chronographer, (naturally the greatest Impostor that ever yet entered upon the course) whose name, if I be not deceived, was Cocconas, went about with him, practising Cheats, and fleecing Gross men; for so do these Jugglers in their Canting language call the Vulgar. Among the rest, lighting upon one Macetis a rich woman, well stricken in years, yet desirous to be thought lovely, they picked a maintenance from her, and attended her from Bythinia into Macedonia. For she dwelled at Pella, a flourishing Country under the Macedonian Kings, now inhabited only by a few obscure Villagers. Here beholding Dragons of a wonderful greatness, and yet so gentle, and tame, that they were fed by women, lay with Children, suffered themselves to be trod, and crushed without reluctancy, and like Infants sucked milk from the Breast, (for many such there are in that country, from whence in likelihood sprung the fable, that when Olympias conceived Alexander, she had copulation with a Dragon) they for a small sum bought one of the fairest; And, in the expression of Thucydides, From hence began the war. For these two most wicked, adventurous men, and prepared for any mischievous attempt, entering into Conspiracy, easily perceived that the two great Tyrants over the life of man were Hope, and Fear. And that he that could employ them to advantage, might suddenly grow rich. For they see, that both to him who was troubled with Fear, and him who nourished Hopes, Prophecy, and Presage, was most necessary, and desirable. Thus Delphos anciently increased its riches with its fame. Thus Delos also, and Claros, and the Priests of Apollo grew wealth; men being drawn to their Temples by the forementioned Tyrants, Hope, and Fear, with desires to foreknow future events; for which they sacrificed Hecatombs, and offered golden plates. Having well discoursed, and tossed the Plot, they resolved to erect an Oracle; confident, that if their design prospered, they should in short time enrich, and make themselves happy: whose success was afterwards far greater than they at first expected, and indeed beyond their hope. Their next consultation, therefore, was, where they should lay their Scene, and how they should begin their enterprise. Cocconas' thought Chalcedon to be the fittest place; being a country of Merchants, and bordering upon Thrace, and Bythinia, and not far from Asia, and Galatia, and other neighbouring people. But Alexander rather preferred his own country: affirming (as the truth was) that the first broaching of such an Adventure required dull, simple men, and easy of entertainment: such as are the Paphlagonians, who dwell at Abonwall, who for the most part are superstitious, and gross, that if but a Sive-prophet appear among them, with a Fiddler, Trumpeter, or one that plays on a Cymbal in his company, they presently flock together, and gape at him, and admire him, like some Divine person dropped from Heaven. After some controversy, at last Alexander overcame: yet to Chalcedon they went (a City, as they thought, conducible to such a design) where, in Apollo's old Temple they buried some brazen Medals, which prophesied, that ere long Aesculapius, and his Father Apollo should come into Pontus, and dwell at Abonwall. These Medals thus purposely found, presently cast a rumour throughout all Bythinia, and Pontus, but especially among the people of Abonwall; who presently decreed to build a Temple, and began to lay the foundation. Cocconas' was left at Chalcedon, where he wrote ambiguous, doubtful, cross Oracles: and shortly after died of the sting of a Serpent. Whereupon Alexander was sent for, who came in curled hair, clad in a changeable Cassock of Purple, and white; over which was cast a white Ephod, holding a Sickle, like Perseus, from whom he derived himself by the Mother's side. The stupid Paphlagonians in the mean time, though they knew both his Parents to be of obscure and base quality, yet gave credit to an Oracle which said, 
Phoebus' friend, Podalirius blood you see,  
One who from Perseus draws his Pedigree.  This Podalirius was naturally so lecherous, and given to women, that he was enticed by Alexander's mother from Tricca into Paphlagonia. There was another Oracle, as if written by some Sibyl, foretelling, 
That near Sinope, on the Euxine sand,  
Not far from Tyrsis should a Prophet land,  
Whose medicinal name should these four numbers hold,  
One, thrice ten, five, and twenty three times told.   
A while after Alexander, with his puppet-play, in great bravery, and pomp, arrived in his own Country; where he sometimes counterfeited himself possessed, and foamed at mouth; which was easy for him to do, having first chewed soap weed root, with which wool is scoured. His foaming showed to the spectators both divine, and terrible. Before his arrival he made a linen head to his Dragon, visaged like a Man, and painted like one, which opened, and shut the mouth, with horse hair: having also, like other Dragons, a black forked tongue, which was also stirred, and moved by hair. This Dragon he had in readiness, and fed secretly, with a purpose, when he saw occasion, to produce him; and to assign him his part in the play; or rather to make him the chief Actor. When 'twas almost time to begin, he contrived this plot: coming by night to the foundation of the Temple newly digged, where stood water, either risen from some spring, or fallen in some shower, and bringing with him a hollow goose egg, which held a little serpent, newly hatched, he sank and buried it in the mud, and so departed. Next morning running naked into the marketplace, with only a golden towel about his soynes, carrying also his sickle in his hand, and shaking his loose bayre, like one possessed by the mother of the Gods, he got upon an Altar, and proclaimed the happiness of the City, which was presently to discover the foretold Deity. The spectators, which were all the men, women, and children of the City drawn together, were amazed, fell to their prayers, and adored him, whilst he uttering some unsignificant words, in Hebrew perhaps, or the Phoenician Language, much more astonished them who understood nothing he said, but only that he often named Apollo, and Aesculapius. From hence he distractedly run to the newly begun Temple, and to the pit, and spring, digged there to lay the foundation; and descending into the water, in a loud voice, sung the praises of Apollo, and Aesculapius, and invited the God to enter with good fortune into the City. Demanding also a shovel, which was reached him, he no sooner dipped it in the water, but brought up wrapped in water, and mud together, the egg, which enclosed the God; indiscernably stopped, and cemented with white wax, and chalk, which taking in his hand,, now, quoth he; I will show you Aesculapius. They stupidly wondered, what would be the event, and much admired the egg found in the water. Till he breaking it in the hollow of his hand, took out the young snake. Which when they saw stir, and ros● itself about his fingers, they presently gave a great shout, and saluted it as a God, and congratulated the good fortune of the City: every one also conceiving a petition, and prayed to him for wealth, riches, health, and the like. He speedily ran home again, carrying w●●h him his new hatched Aesculapius, borne now the second time, whereas men are borne but once. Hatched, I say, not by some Coronis, or Daw (which was his mother's name) but by some Goose. All the people followed, divinely inspired, and distracted with their hopes. He for some days kept at home, hoping as indeed it came to pass) the same would draw great confluence of Paphlagonians. When the City began to be filled with people, void both of understanding, and brains, and no way resembling men who lived by bread, nor differing at all from beasts, but only in shape; he, sitting in a little room, upon a Couch, attired like a Priest, held his Pellaean Aesculapius in his bosom; which was, as I said before, of a fair, and goodly magnitude. For winding him sometimes about his neck (which he patiently suffered) and letting only his tail hang down, and hiding his head under his arm, he trailed upon the ground: sometimes from under another part of his Cassock, he would let the linen head peep out, which was verily thought to be the Serpent's. For you are to fancy the house where he made his presentments, neither stately, nor over lightsome: then the press of people, which thronged to see him, squeezing and crowding one another, and anticipating the show with their astonishment. For coming with raised expectations, it must needs seem a miracle to them, to see a little, small serpent, in a few days become a great Dragon; faced like a man, and withal so gentle. No spectators stayed long, but before they had an exact view, were thrust out by new comers, who continually resorted. Just against the door, where they entered, stood open another door, to let them out. In imitation of the course practised by the Macedonians, when Alexander lay sick, and ready to die, and great troops pressed into the Palace to see him, and take their last farewell. 'Tis reported of this Cheater, that he many times made these presentments, especially to strangers which were rich. And to say truth, my dear Celsus, you are to pardon those dull unlettered Paphlagonians, if they were cozened when they touched the Dragon, (which Alexander permitted to as many as would) and saw a head by a false doubtful light, so artificially opening and shutting the mouth, that▪ 'twould require a Democritus or Epicurus, or Metrodorus, or some other of a hard, flinty faith towards such things, not to believe, or to make a true conjecture of what he saw. And if he could not find out the mystery, yet to come with a persuasion that the ways, and secrets of the Imposture, were above his discovery, though all he saw were a Delusion, and Impossible to be done. In short time, Bythinia, Galatia, and Thrace were drawn to the spectacle, upon the report of those who confidently affirmed, they saw the God newly hatched, and touched him after he was in few days grown very great, and that he had the face of a man: Pictures also, and Images, and Statues were taken of him, some carved in Silver, others in Brass. At last they gave him a name, and called him Glycon, warned in a verse by a divine Oracle, thus uttered by Alexander, 
I Glycon am from Jove Third, Mortals light.   
It now began to be time (which was the great hinge of the Plot) that he was to give Oraculous answers, and to Prophecy. Alexander, therefore, taking his pattern from Antilochus in Cilicia, who after the death of his father Amphiaraus at Thebes, being banished his Country, went into Cilicia, where he lost not by his change, but prophesied to the Cilicians, and took monies for his predictions. Taking I say, his copy from him, he told all comers that his God would shortly give Oracles, and assigned a day, bidding every one write, what they had a desire to learn, or know in a little book, and to wind it about with thread, and seal it with wax, clay, or the like: And that he taking the books, and presenting them before the Tripod, (for by this time an Oracle was built, and a Curtain hung up) would call them in order by a Crier, or Priest, and as he was instructed by his Deity, would restore to every man his scroll, sealed, as it was, with an exact answer subscribed by his God, to every petition. Which Device, to such a man as you, or (without ostentation) as I am, were palpable, and easy to be found out, but appeared to blunt men, and as they say, to such as blew not their noses, a very prodigy, and wonder. For having invented several ways to open the Seals, he read the contents, and framing agreeable answers, bound up the papers again, and returned them sealed, to the great admiration of the receivers: who thus reasoned with themselves. How could he know what I gave him, locked under seals so impossible to be counterfeited, if he were not a God, who knows all things? You will ask me now what art he used. 'Tis worth your hearing, that you may be instructed against such juggle. His first way, my dear Celsus, was to heat a needle, with which melting the wax under it he took off the seal; and having read the inside, with the same needle melted the wax which was upon the outside of the thread, and clapped on the seal again entire. His next way was by Collyrium, a thing Compounded of Berytian pitch, lime, specular stone pounded, wax, and mastic; which he warming at the fire, and applying to the seal, first anointed with tallow, brought away the impression; and as soon as it was cold and hard, having nearly opened the paper, and read it, applying his stamp to fresh wax, gave it a print, as it were, with a stone seal, exactly resembling the Original. His third device was, to mingle chalk, with the ordinary glue, with which letters are sealed; which he wrought into a wax, and applying it soft to the print, presently took it off; which afterwards growing as hard as horn or Iron, he used for a seal. Many other contrivances he had, which I cannot stand to report, lest I seem tedious; especially since you in your Commentaries concerning Magicians, which are excellent useful, and able to make their Readers wife, have delivered many more passages of this nature. Oracles, then, he gave and Divinations; which with great Art, and Subtlety he still dressed in probable colours. Giving to some Questions Oblique, and intricate answers. To others, answers dark and unintelligible. A course, as he thought, most suitable to an Oracle: some he frighted, and encouraged others, as he found it made for his profit. To some he prescribed Medecines, and diets, being (as I said before) variously skilled in receipts. Among which he chiefly extolled Cytmides, which is the feigned name of a plaster made of Bear's grease. The answer to hopes, successes, and successions in Inheritances, he still put off to another time; Adding though, that they should accomplish their expectations, when he thought fit, and when his Priest Alexander should pray or petition for them. The rate set upon every Oracle was a Drachma & two pence: which you are not, my friend, to call a small gain, rising yearly to 70. or 80. thousand Drachmas. Some men out of their greediness, and thirst of satisfaction, paying for ten, some for fifteen Answers. What he received he kept not wholly to himself, or treasured up, but maintained many associates, and servants, some were emissaries, some projected Oracles; some subscribed Answers; some made and applied the Seals; some interpreted; all were more or less sharers according to their place, or employment. His Emissaries he sent into far Countries, who did spread the fame of the Oracle among the Nations; and reported that he foretold future events, recalled fugitive servants, discovered Thiefs, and Robbers, revealed where treasures were to be digged, cured all diseases; and raised some from the dead. Whereupon followed great resort, and confluence from all parts; Sacrifices were offered, and double presents made to the Priest, and Disciple of the God. For now an Oracle to this purpose was divulged: 
Honour my Priest and Servant, I you charge;  
gain I despise, yet let his gains be large.   
At length, when many recovering their wits from a deep intoxication, conspired against him, especially those who were of Epicurus sect, and the whole cheat and pageant by little and little began to be opened, he threatened them with terrible misfortunes; and said, that Pontus was now overspread with Atheists, and Christians, who were not afraid to speak blasphemies of him, charging those, who came to consult him, as they expected the favour of the God, to drive them away with stones. Upon Epicurus himself he passed this Oracle, when one enquired what he did in Hell; He sits in mire (said he) in leaden fetters chained. Can you yet wonder at the spreading of the Oracle, when you hear what sage and learned inquiries were put up? His quarrel to Epicurus was irreconcilable, and not without cause. For with whom in reason should a Juggler, Friend to Monsters, and enemy to truth, make war, but with Epicurus, a man perfectly studied in the nature of things, and alone able to distinguish what was truth in them? The followers of Plato, Chrysippus, and Pythagoras, he counted his friends, and was in deep, peace with them. Only intractable Epicurus (as he called him) was perfectly in his hatred: and good reason; For he would have converted those things into laughter, and sport. Of all the Cities of Pontus, therefore, he most hated Amastris, because he heard those who came with Lepidus, and many others of the like-breeding lived ther●: which was the reason why he never gave Oracle to any that came from thence. But endeavouring upon a time to give an Oracle to the Proconsul's brother, he was ridiculously disappointed, neither able to invent a fit one himself, nor any for the present to compose one for him. For intending to bid him, for the cure of a pain in his stomach, eat a hog's foot dressed with Mallows, he thus uttered the prescription;  
Take Malwickes' in 〈◊〉 di●ine hog Syrrupe steeped. Many times (as I said before) he shovved his Dragon to those who desired the sight; not all, but his tail, and some more of his body: still keeping his head in his bosom invisible. And that he might the more astonish the multitude, he promised they should hear his God speak, and give Oraales without an Interpreter. For that purpose without much difficulty, he so ordered the windpipe of a Crane, that being drawn through the Artificial head, another stood behind the curtain, and speaking through the Artery, gave answers to the Questions; conveying the voice through the linen Aesculapius. These were called Selfe-Oracles, and were not spoken to all promiscuously, but only to those who were rich, bravely clad, and offered well. The answer which Severianus received concerning his expedition into Armenia was a selfe-Oracle, who was encouraged to make an Invasion after this manner, 
Thou Medes, and Parthians, with quick war shalt waste,  
Then back to Rome, and Tiber's streams shalt haste,  
Wearing a Chaplet, which bright beams shalt cast.  Upon which persuasion, after the studpid Gaul had made an incursion, and was with his army slain by Othryades, that Oracle was dashed out of the Catalogue, and this other insetted; 
Make no war with Armenians, 'Tis best,  
Lest a man, in a woman's garments dressed,  
Thee with his bow, of life and light divest.  His plot herein was by after Oracles craftily to heal the former which miscarried. For many times a little before their death he promised recovery to sick persons; After whose deaths he had this recanting Oracle in readiness; 
Henceforth ask no cure for thy helpless pain,  
Death is at hand, to think to scape is vain.   
Learning by intelligence that some at Claros, Didymae, and Male, were famous for such divinations, he made friendship with them, and sent many thither, saying; 
To Claros go, and hear my Father's voice.   
Again, 
At Male Amphilochus shall you resolve.   
Thus much of the Scene lay within his own Coasts, though in it jonia, Cilicia, Paphlagonia, and Galatia had parts. But when the fame of the Oracle once pierced Italy, and arrived at Rome, every one strove to be first. Some presently went in person, others sent; especially Senators, and such as bore great offices in the State. The first of note, and reputation, was Rutilianus, a man otherwise honest, and prudent, and approved in many Roman battles for his valour: but indiscreetly superstitious towards the Gods; of whom he had taken in such improbable persuasions, that wheresoever he saw a stone anointed, or crowned, he fell down, and worshipped, and made long prayers to it, and petitioned for good fortune. He, therefore, hearing what was reported of this Oracle, almost resolved to leave his Army, and make a voyage to Abonwall. But however sent thither messengers after messengers. They who were sent, being servants of small capacity, and easily deceived, at their return reported what they had seen; and some things which they feigned to have seen, and heard; much enlarging their relation, the more to endear themselves to their Master. Much was the unfortunate old man inflamed, and cast into a violent frenzy, who going about to all his friends (of which he had store, and powerful) told what he heard from his messengers, besides some additions of his own. The report presently filled, and astonished the City; especially many of the Court, who presently sent to be instructed in their affairs Alexander received the messengers very affably; and returned them with presents, and gifts of great value: who not only reported their answers, but sung the praises of the God; telling prodigious lies, both of him and his Oracles. One plot he had in ordinary practice, too ingenious, and subtle for a vulgar Cheater: which was to open the Tickets which were sent, and if, in the reading, he found any thing unsafe, or dangerous, he kept, and never restored them, with a purpose to keep the Inquirers obnoxious, and to awe them with their own fears, when they reflected upon their inquiries. Foreseeing that men of great riches, and quality, would ask the most dangerous questions. From these, therefore, he exacted great rewards, knowing themselves caught in his net. I will repeat to you some of the Oracles he gave to Rutilianus, who consulting the Oracle what Tutor he should choose for the education of his son by his first wife, who was now grown ripe for the Arts, was thus answered; 
Pythagoras, and he who Battles sings.   
A few days after the child died; and he was much troubled to defend himself to those who accused him of an Oracle so apparently confuted. But Rutilianus being a religious man, prevented him, and excused the Oracle; Interpreting the meaning of the God to be, that no living Tutor should be chosen, but Homer, and Pythagoras, long since dead, with whom his son in hell probably held conversation: and who now can blame Alexander for cheating such men? Enquiring another time whose soul he possessed; 'Twas replied: 
First thou Achilles, than Menander wast,  
Next thyself; shalt a Sunbeam be at last;  
An hundred fourscore summers once being past.  But he died of Melancholy at threescore and ten, and tarried not for the promise of the God; though this were a self Oracle. Another time enquiring about his marriage, he received this answer: 
Wed Alexander's daughter borne o'th' Moon.  For there went a stale report, that the daughter he had was begotten of the Moon, who grew enamoured of him, as he lay asleep. A thing usual with her to love beautiful men in their slumbers. Rutilianus, like a wise man, presently sent to the wench, and proceeded to a wedding, though he was a Sexagenary Bridegroom, bedded her, and sacrificed whole Hecatombs to the Moon his Mother-in-Law. Reckoning himself now among the Gods. Alexander, in the mean time, having intelligence how the report took in Italy, applied his mind to greater matters: and dispersed Emissaries through all the Roman Empire; who scattered Oracles; forewarning Cities to take heed of Plagues, Combustions, and Earthquakes: For the eversion whereof he promised infallible remedies. In the time of Pestilence, the Oracle he sent to all Nations, which was a self-one, was comprehended in this one verse; 
Phoebus th' unshorn infectious clouds expels.  Which was every where written upon doors, as a charm against the Plague. But the success was contrary. For it happened that those houses which had the Inscription were most depopulated: which I bring not into observation, as if the verse increased the Infection, but so it fell out by chance; and many, it may be, relying on the Charm, were careless and negligent of their diet, using no remedies against the Plague, but th● Oracle; but thought the Syllables would protect them, and unshorn Apollo with his dart would dispel the Contagion. At Rome he had many Spies, who were of the conspiracy, who certified him of every man's purposes, what doubts, and inquiries they would propose, and what resolutions they desired: which, before they came, gave him time to provide Answers. And these were his plots upon the Italians. Lastly, he instituted certain ceremonies and rites, especially the carriage of Tapers in solemn procession for three days successively. The first day, in Imitation of the Athenians, was made this proclamation; If any Atheist, or Christian or Epicurean, become as a Spy to these solemnities, let him depart: But let such as reverence the Gods be initiated in our mysteries: whereupon division was presently made; And Alexander in front cried out, away with the Christians, and the whole multitude in a loud Acclamation echoing him, cried, Away with the Epicureans. Then was Acted Latona's Delivery, and Apollo's Birth; then his marriage with Coronis, and the birth of Aesculapius. The second day was Acted Glycons' Epiphany, and Birth. The third day Podalirius marriage with Alexander's mother; whose name was Dadis; and the Tapers were then lighted; the whole Solemnity ended with the moon's and Alexander's love, and the nativity of Rutilianus Bride. In which Alexander's part was to hold a Torch, and, like another Endymion, to personate himself asleep; Then from the roof, as from her orb, descended to him one Rutilia, representing the Moon; A beautiful woman, and wife to a great Officer about Caesar, who courted Alexander, and was courted by him again; openly, and before her besotted husband's eyes exchanging kisses, and embraces; and had the Tapers been away had perchance acted out the whole part. After this, putting on his properties of a Priest, in deep silence he entered, and then sang in a loud voice, lô Glycon. To which many Paphlagonians, well throated, who followed him, in high shoes, and stunk of Garlic, replied, lô Alexander. Many times, as he danced in Procession, his Cassock of purple flew open, and revealed a golden thigh; covered, I believe, with some gilt skin, which glittered against the Torches: which raised a great dispute between two foolishly wise, whether he were informed by Pythagoras' soul, since he had a golden thigh, or by a soul like his. The doubt was brought to Alexander, and was thus decided by Prince Glycon; 
Pythagoras soul felt often Transmigration;  
But my Priest's soul had sacred generation,  
Dropped by my father for men's preservation.   
Again: 
Souls, from Jove's lightning cast, return to Jove.   
He used to forbid the unnatural use of Boys as a heinous sin; though his prohibition were attended with this plot. He commanded the Cities of Pontus, and Paphlagonia, every third year to dedicate so many of their sons to his God, to sing his praises; and those to be approved and selected by him, of noble birth, delicate age, and beautiful feature. Which he keeping in a kind of Seraglio, like so many bought Captives, variously abused, and prostituted to his lust. He made a Law, also, that none above the age of eighteen, should touch his mouth, or salute him with a kiss. To such, therefore, he only vouchsafed his hand, reserving his lips only for those who were handsome: who from thence were called the admitted within the kiss. In this manner he cozened simple people, corrupted their wives, and prostituted their children: who accounted it a great matter, and much to be wished, if he would cast a glance upon their wives. But if he would vouchsafe them a kiss, they thought deluges of good fortune would flow into their houses. Some there were who bragged they had conceived by him, which was confirmed by the testimony of their husbands. I will report to you a Dialogue which passed between Glycon, and a Tyanean Priest, whose wisdom you may perceive by his Questions. I read it in golden letters in the Priest's house at Tion. Tell me, said he, Prince Glycon, who art thou? I am, answered he, the lesser Aesculapius. Distinguished from the former? Speak 'Tis not lawful for thee to know. How many years wilt thou stay among us, and give Oracles? A thousand and three. Whither wilt thou go then? To Bactra, and the Regions about it. For 'tis fit the Barbarians should should enjoy my presence. Have the Divinations at Didymae, Clare and Delphos, Apollo for their Author, or are they false, counterfeit Oracles? 'Tis not lawful for thee to know. What shall I be after this life? First a Camel, than a Horse, than a wise man, and a Prophet equal to Alexander. This was the Dialogue between Glycon and the Priest: whom at last, knowing him to be a friend to Lepidus, he sent away with this Oracle wrapped up in this verse, 
Believe not Lepidus, his fates are dire.  For (as I said before) he much feared Epicurus, as an Anti-plotter, and Anti-juggler to his cheats. A certain Epicurean, therefore, not a little endangered himself for confuting him in a public Assembly: where setting upon him in a loud voice, he said, Thou Alexander didst persuade a Paphlagonian to accuse his servants before the Perfect of Galatia, for the suspected murder of his son, who went to school at Alexandria; yet the young man lives, and is safely come home, but the servants are executed, and by this means have been cast to wild beasts. The occasion was this. The youth, sailing a good way up into Egypt against stream, was persuaded from thence to sail on to India. After a long stay, his unfortunate servants supposing him either drowned in the Nile, or slain by thiefs, (of which there was then store) returned home, and reported he was lost; whereupon the Oracle was consulted, and they condemned: presently after returned the youth, and reported his voyage. He had scarce done speaking, but Alexander, much provoked by his confutation, and unable to hear truth longer, commanded the multitude to stone him, as they meant to avoid the wicked name of Atheists, and Epicureans: which they presently attempted. But one Demostratus, who sojourned in Pontus, interposed himself, and rescued him from Lapidation; who had else been deservedly slain: for why would he offer to be the only discreet man among so many distracted, and expose himself to the madness of the Paphlagonians? you see what he got by it. Alexander's custom was, the day before he gave Oracles, to call in order those who had given in their Inquiries, and a crier standing without the curtain, asked him if he were pleased to answer them. And if he gave this reply from within to any man's name, To the crows with him, none afterwards received such a one into their house, or admitted him, as they say, either to their fire or water. But he was forced to wander up and down foreign Countries, as an Atheist, a man hated of the Gods, and an Epicurean, which was the height of infamy. He did one thing very ridiculous. Having got Epicurus select Sentences, which, you know, is his best Book, and the Abridgement of his whole Philosophy, he carried them into the midst of the Market place, and burning them, in stead of the Author, cast the ashes into the Sea, with this Oracle, The purblind old man's works I doom to the flame. Not considering of what use, and instruction that book was to the Readers; and how it quieted, settled, and freed their minds from vain fears, phantasms, prodigious apprehensions, empty hopes, and swelling desires, and planted virtue in their stead; truly clearing, and purging the soul, not with a Taper, or Brush, or such other trifles, but with right reason, liberty, and truth. Among his other Pranks, you shall hear now one of the greatest the Rascal ever played. Having, by Rutilianus procurement, gained no small reputation in Caesar's Court, in the heat of the Germane war, when Marcus was to join battle with the Bohemians, he divulged an Oracle, which commanded two Lions to be cast alive in Danubius, with many odours, and perfumes, and magnificent sacrifices. But 'tis best to repeat the Oracle as 'twas delivered; 
Into Danubius, when most swollen, and vast,  
Let two of Cybel's wood bred Teeme be cast,  
With fragrant flowers crowned, which in India grew,  
Then Conquest, Peace, and Triumph shall ensue.   
All things being performed as the Oracle directed, the Lions swam over to the enemy's shore; which the barbarous people took for foreign dogs or wolves, and chased them away with clubs. But a great defeat, and slaughter befell us, to the loss of twenty thousand men: presently after, the like befell us at Aquileia; where we had almost lost the City. He coldly wrested the Delphic Oracle, which was delivered to Croesus, to this Accident, and said, the God did indeed foretell a great victory, but explained not himself whether it should befall the Romans, or the enemy. When the City of Abonwall began at length to be so surcharged with the great confluence, and resort of people, which came to consult the Oracle; that it was not able to supply them with victuals, he invented a new kind of Oracles; which were called night Oracles. For taking their Tickets, and sleeping with them, he gave such answers as he said his God revealed to him in his dream; which, for the most part, were dark, ambiguous, and confused; especially if the Ticket were exactly sealed. For then, without the danger of opening, he subscribed any thing by chance, which was obscure, and agreeable to an Oracle. To these kind of Answers belonged certain Interpreters; who received no small rewards, from those who asked their expositions, and farmed their places of Alexander; to whom they every one paid yearly an Attic Talon. Sometimes, when none came, or were sent to inquire, he gave voluntary Oracles, to astonish the simple people, of which this was one; 
The page, to thee most dear, at home unspyed,  
Commits adultery with thy fair cheeked Bride.  
'Tis but a just revenge of sin with sin,  
He Cuckolds thee, who hath thy pathic been.  
Drowsy Charms, also, they in secret places,  
To make thee stupid to their loose Embraces,  
Under thy bed, near to the wall have laid,  
Assisted by Calypto, thy wife's maid.   
What Democritus would not be troubled to have names, and places thus punctually described? And yet would not smile assoon as he knew the plot?  
He many times gave answers to barbarous people, though they enquired in their own language; in Syriack, perchance, or French. But his manner was, when he could not easily find one of that Country, to take the Ticket, and to keep it, till he met with an Interpretter; which made a long space sometimes between the Inquirie, and Answer; A Scythian once received this Oracle; 
Morphi Ebargulis, into the shade,  
Chnenchichranc, his light shall fade.  Another time, when no body appeared, or was present, he gave this answer in Prose; Return, he that sent thee is this day slain by his neighbour Diocles, assisted by three thiefs, Mangus, Celer, and Bubulus, who are caught, and fettered. Now hear some of the Oracles which were given to me. One of my questions was, (which I sealed openly and exactly) whether Alexander were bald. To which this night answer was subscribed; Sabar, Dalachi, Malach, he was another Attis. Another of my Questions was, (which I written in several Tickets) and sent under several names, where Homer was borne. In one paper, deceived by my Boy, who, being asked for what he came, told him, he came for a cure of the pain in his side, he written; 
Take Bears grease, mingled with Latona's Dew.  In another paper, being told by the Messenger, he came to inquire whether I were best go into Italy by land or sea; He gave this answer, nothing at all to Homer, 
Return borne by thy feet, not by thy sails.  Many such tricks I put upon him, enclosing sometimes the same enquiry in eight several notes; to which I feigned as many names, and sent them by eight several messengers, with as many groats, and what more was to be paid: he persuaded by his gain, and the Inscription of the notes, to this one Question, in which I asked when Alexander the Impostor should be discovered, gave eight several answers, as far distant as heaven and earth, senseless withal, and hard to be understood: which coming afterwards to his knowledge, and because I formerly dissuaded Rutilianus from marriage, and from giving any credit to his Oracles, he hated me, as he had reason, and accounted me his mortal enemy. Upon a time, therefore, Rutilianus enquired of the Oracle something concerning me, and was thus answered; 
He spends his night with whores, in obscure stews.   
And, to say truth, he deservedly hated me. Afterwards, having intelligence of my coming to the City, and that I was Lucian (now I brought two Soldiers in my company, one armed with a Lance, the other with a Halberd, lent me by the Governor of Cappadocia, my especial friend, for my sa●e conduct to the Sea) He with much civility, sent for me: when I came, I found many with him, and by good fortune brought my Soldiers with me. He, as his manner was, reached me out his hand to kiss; which I respectfully taking, and offering to kiss, gave it such a bite, as almost maimed him. The standers by presently attempted to beat, and choke me, as an irreligious person; having before taken it very ill that I did salute him by the name of Alexander, not of a Prophet. But he very generously interposing himself, appeased them, and promised by the help and power of his God to heal my distraction, who, said he, is able to assuage, and win those who are most tempestuous against him. Then putting them all out of the room, he began to expostulate with me, telling me he knew what counsel I had given to Rutilianus; and ask me how he had deserved such carriages from me, seeing it was in his power to contrive great matters for me? I was much overcome with his friendly behaviour; considering in what danger I was; And after some small stay went out with him reconciled. The sudden alteration struck deep astonishment into the beholders. Not long after, I resolved to take ship; and being alone with Zenophon, and having sent my father, and my other company before to Amastris, he sent me great gifts, and presents, and offered to provide me a ship, and mariners to row me, which I accepted as proceeding from a clear, and honest intention. But when we came into the middle of the Sea, I saw the Pilot weep, and earnestly contest with the Sailors; which were no very good presages of my safety. The truth is, they were hired by Alexander to throw us over board: which had they done, he had amply revenged himself upon me. But he that wept prevailed with them not to execute their design; who in these words addressed himself to me, I have lived, as you see, to the age of threescore years, a religious, innocent life; and will not now at this great age, having wife and children, defile my hands with murder. Intimating for what purpose he took us into the ship, and what plot Alexander had laid. Having set us ashore at Aegiali, made so famous by Homer, he sailed back again. Not long after sailed by the Bosphoran Ambassadors, sent by their King Eupater with the Tribute money which was yearly paid into Bythinia; To whom after I had told our danger, and escape, they courteously took us into their ship, and transported us safe to Amastris. So near my death was I. From that time I took Arms against him, and raised all my forces to revenge myself; who before this Treachery hated him, and accounted him my enemy for the wickedness of his life, and manners. Nor had I failed to question him, and joined with others in his accusation, especially with the Scholars of Timocrates the Heraclean Philosopher, had not the Governor of Bythinia, and Pontus, with much intercession, and entreaty dissuaded us, who out of his respect to Rutilianus professed he could not punish him, though his Impostures were never so plainly proved: whereupon I suppressed, and suffered my revenge to cool, despairing of my success before a Judge so partial. Of whom, to his other bold attempts, Alexander adventured to ask leave, that Abonwall might change its name, and be called jonople; and obtained power also to coin money, stamped with the Image of Glycon, on the one side, and of Alexander on the other, holding the Badge of his Grandfather Aesculapius, and Perseus' sickle, from whom he derived himself by the mother. At last he published this Oracle concerning himself; That 'twas decreed by the Fates that he should live an hundred and fifty years, and that then he should die miserably struck with lightning. But he died under seventy of a Gangrene, (as it became Podalirius son) which did eat from his foot to his thigh; and almost devoured by worms. At which time he was discovered to be bald, by permitting his head to be bathed by Physicians, for the head-ache: which they could not do, and not pluck off his Periwig. Thus ended the Tragedy of Alexander, and this was the Catastrophe of the whole play. Through which there seemed to run a Thread of Providence, but all was casualty, and chance. That which followed was an Epitaph upon him, expressing the worthiness of his Actions, and Life, and a contention among his principal Comrades, and fellow Cheaters, who referred themselves to Rutilianus which should be preferred, and chosen to succeed in the Oracle, and wear the Prophetic Crown, and Robe. In which number was one Paetus of that City, by profession a Physician; who by such a competition disgraced both his profession and white hairs. But Rutilianus, the Master of the Game, dismissed them all without Garlands, and reserved the Prophetic place for himself, after his departure thence. These few things, of many, my Celsus, have I written both to give you a taste of the man, and to gratify you, who are my acquaintance, and friend, and whom I hold in special regard, for your Wisdom, Love to Truth, Sweetness, and moderation of Carriage, serenity of Behaviour, and Affability toward those with whom you Converse. As also (a thing much in your wishes) to vindicate Epicurus; a man of a divine and inspired wit, who alone knew truth, and honesty, and delivered it, and infused liberty into all those who tasted his Conversation. Lastly, I doubt not but this piece of my writings will be of this use to the Readers, that 'twill confute, and clear false opinions, and confirm those who are already rightly informed in true.  
Toxaris,   

Toxaris, or a Discourse of Friendship.  The Speakers Mnesippus a Greek, Toxaris a Scythian. Mnesipp. 
WHat say you, Toxaris? do you Scythians Sacrifice to Orestes, and Pylades, and take them for Gods?  Toxaris. 
We Sacrifice to them, Mnesippus, but hold them not Gods, but good men.  Mnesipp. 
Have you a Custom, then, to Sacrifice to good men departed as to Gods?  Toxaris. 
That's not all; we honour them with Festivals, and solemn assemblies too.  Mnesipp. 
Upon what design? your oblations cannot draw good influences from them being dead.  Toxaris. 
'Twere not amiss, if the dead were propitious to us. But we think we much advantage the living by our Commemoration of excellent men; and do therefore honour them dead; out of our persuasion that many of us will thereby be wrought into their example.  Mnesipp. 
You do well. But why do you so much admire Pylades and Orestes, and equal them to the Gods, being but strangers to you, or, which is more, enemies? For being cast ashore by shipwreck, and apprehended by the Scythians of those times, to be Sacrificed to Diana, they assailed their Keepers, forced the prison, slew the King, surprised the Priest, ravished away your Goddess, and sailed away with her, to the contempt and scorn of your public Scythian Laws. If for this you adore them, 'twill be easy for you to draw many into their Imitation. With reflection, therefore, upon this ancient passage, consider whether it would be safe for you that more Orestes and Pylades should land in Scythia. For methinks you would thereby in short time become irreligious, and Atheists; should your Gods, which remain, in like manner be transported from your Country: and should you in their stead Deify those who came to transport them; and reward their sacrilege with oblations. Or, if for this you worship not Pylades and Orestes, but for some other good conferred upon you, why, holding them not anciently for Gods, do you now give them divine honours, as if they were? and why do you sacrifice to them, who themselves had like to have been made sacrifices? This to me seems ridiculous, and contrary to your former practice.  Toxaris. 
These, which you have repeated, were their generous exploits, Mnesippus. Who being but two durst put themselves upon such a bold attempt, as being so far distant from home, to sail the Pontus, a sea not tried before by any Grecians, but those who made the expedition into Colchos in the Argo; neither daunted, nor affrighted with the fables which go of it, or with those names which call it Inhospitable, from the savageness, I believe, of those rude nations which inhabit the Coasts. And when they were apprehended, to take courage from their misfortune, and not to think a bare escape enough, but to revenge their wrongs upon the King, and to sail away with our Diana, how can such valiant Achievements but raise Admiration, and deserve divine honour from all men who have any taste of virtue? Though we hold not Orestes and Pylades for Demigods, and worthies from those reflections.  Mnesipp. 
Say, then, what other brave or divine enterprise was wrought by them. For as for their navigation and travels, I can show you many Merchants much diviner than they. For instance, the Phoeincians, who sail not only into Pontus, Maeotis, and the Bosphorus, but measure all seas, both Grecian, and Barbarous, and making, as I may so say, and yearly search after all Coasts, and shores, return home late in Autumn. Whom for the same reason you may style Gods, though perhaps they be but Hucksters and Fishmongers.  Toxaris. 
Hear, then, admired Sir, and consider how much our opinion of good men, who are Barbarians, is nobler than yours. For no famous monument of Orestes and Pylades is to be seen at Argos, or Mycenae. But we can show a Temple equally, as 'twas fit, built to both, as they were friends; where sacrifices are offered, and other rites of honour are performed. Nor do we think them good men the less, because they were foreigners, and not Scythians; nor do we examine, so they be virtuous, and honest, from whence they are, nor repine at great Actions, though wrought by men not our friends: But rather applauding their adventures, entitled them to ourselves by their deeds. But that which in those men we do with most admiration extol is, that they appeared to us a pair of unequalled friends; and made their example a Law to others, How, with their friendship, to partake in all fortunes too, and thereby gain the veneration of the best Scythians. Whatsoever, therefore, they mutually suffered for, or with one another, our Ancestors engraven in a pillar of Brass, which they erected in Oreste's Temple, and made a Law that their children's first lesson and piece of education should be to remember what was there carved. So that it is easier for them to forget the name of their father, then be ignorant of the deeds of Orestes and Pylades. In the porch of the Temple, also, is to be seen shadowed in Antique Imagery all that is written on the pillar. Orestes sailing with his friend, than their ship broken, and wracked against steep rocks; then he apprehended, and dressed for Immolation, and both consecrated by Iphigenia. On the opposite wall he is drawn freed from his shackles, slaying Thoas, and many other Scythians; Then hoisting sails, and conveying away Iphigenia, and our Goddess. Then the Scythians vainly striving to stop the floating Bark, by laying hold on the Stern, and labouring to get aboard. Lastly, Failing in their attempt, some wounded, others for fear returning to the shore. But the most remarkable passage is the mutual friendship they showed in their Skirmish with the Scythians. For the Painter hath limbed them both severally careless of his own assailers, and solicitous only to encounter those who beset the other, and to divert his darts; not at all weighing his own slaughter, so he might save his friend; and interposing his own body to receive those strokes which were directed to the others. This their mutual assistance, and communion in misfortunes, Their fidelity in friendship, ruth and constancy of affections, appeared to us no mortal virtues, but endowments of a mind advanced above the vulgar: who in prosperous times will take resentment at their friends, if they share not in their successes; But let the wind blow a little adversly, they fly away and leave them solitary in their dangers. For you must know, that the Scythians prise nothing so much as friendship, nor will a true Scythian think any thing so glorious as to succour his friend, and partake in his distresses: And therefore among us no infamy is so great, as to be held a Traitor in Friendship. The reason, then, why we honour Orestes, and Pylades, is, because they excelled in Scythian virtues, and were approved in friendship, a thing most in our admiration. From these proceedings of theirs we have given them a name, and called them Coraci; which in our Language is as much as to say, the Gods of friendship.  Mnesipp. 
Believe me, Toxaris, you Scythians are not only good Archers, and better warriors than others, but the best persuaders, and Orators too. For though I once thought otherwise, yet now, methinks, 'tis but justice that you have placed Orestes and Pylades among the Gods. This only I knew not, that you were a good painter too. Trust me, you have most livingly described the pieces in Orestes Temple, as also their Encounters, and wounds received for one another. But I thought friendship had not been so sacred among the Scythians; but that being a people barbarous and wild, they had nourished mutual strifes, quarrels, and disagreements, and had not held friendship with their nearest Alliances and Domestics; Being led to this opinion by that report, which among others I have heard, that they eat their departed Ancestors.  Toxaris. 
Whether, as in other things, so in the reverence of our Ancestors we be more religious, and pious than you greeks, for the present I dispute not. But that Scythian friends are much faithfuller, than Grecians, and that friendship is more regarded among us than you, I shall easily make appear. By the Gods of Greece, therefore, I desire you not to hear me impatiently, whilst I recount what I observed during the large time of my conversation here. You, indeed, seem abler than others to talk of friendship; but, contrary to your high discourses, do so neglect the works of it, that you hold it sufficient to praise it, and to show what an ample virtue ' 'tis. But when you should come to use it, you fall from your words, and taking wing, I know not how, shift yourselves from the practice. And when you see such rare friendships presented on the stage in a Tragedy, you applaud, and clap hands; and when you see them mutually engaged in one another's dangers, many of you shed tears: yet you yourselves attempt nothing praise worthy for your friend. But if he chance to be distressed, presently, like dreams, all the Tragedy you saw flies away and vanishes; and leaves you like those hollow, and dumb vizards, which broadly distend their mouth, and gape widely, but speak not the least word: whereas we, by how much we come short in our discourses of Friendship, by so much we excel you in the practice. If you like the motion, therefore, let us pass over those ancient friends which lived heretofore, and which either you, or we are able to muster up: because herein you overcome us, being fortified by many authentic authorities, especially Poets, who have sung the friendship of Achilles, and Patroclus, Theseus and Pirithous, and others in most excellent Poem and verse. And let us select, and produce some few among ourselves, and report the deeds, I of Scythians, you of greeks. And let him that overcomes, and produces the best examples in friendship, be Conqueror, and divulge his conquest, as having vanquished in a most glorious combat. For my part, if I be worsted in the Duel, I had much rather have my right hand cut off (the punishment among us of the vanquished) then be thought inferior to any Grecian in Friendship, being myself a Scythian.  Mnesipp. 
'Tis no small enterprise, Toxaris, to enter the Lists with such a Warrior as you are, so well appointed with darts and arrows of Language, yet will I not ingloriously upon the first encounter betray my Country▪ and yield to you. For 'twere most absurd that two should overcome such Troops of Scythians, as the Histories and ancient pictures which you just now so exactly described, testify; and that so many Greek Nations, and Cities, should without defence be vanquished by you single; which should I permit, 'twere fit, that not only my right hand, as your custom is, but my tongue should be cut out. But by what account shall we proceed; by the number of adventures in Friendship, or shall he that can give most instances of Friends be held the Conqueror.  Toxaris. 
By no means: victory ought not to be reckoned here by multitude. But if your examples appear more excellent, and piercing than mine, though their number be equal, they will with more advantage wound me, and I shall willingly mee●e your strokes.  Mnesipp. 
You say well: let us agree then upon the number.  Toxaris, 
I think five for each sufficient.  Mnesipp. 
So do I. Begin then; but swear first to speak nothing but Truths. Otherwise, 'twill not be hard for you to coin such examples as are not capable of disproof, but being sworn 'twere irreligious to distrust you.  Toxaris. 
Let us both take an oath, then, if you think fit.  Mnesipp. 
By which of our Gods shall I swear? do you like jupiter Philius?  Toxaris. 
I do: and will swear in my language by another of my Country Gods.  Mnesipp. 
Be jupiter, the Protector of Friends witness, then, that what I shall now report to you, either I have myself seen, or, upon the most exact information to me possible, I have received from others, and that I will feign nothing of myself. First, I will relate the Friendship of Agathocles, and Dinias, famous among the jonians. This Agathocles, by birth a Samian, lived not long since. A man unequalled in friendship, as he gave good Testimony, though in other things, as Pedigree, and greatness of fortune, he nothing differed from the other vulgar Samians. He was from his childhood friend to Dinias, the Ephesian, the son of Lysio. This Dinias was left exceeding rich. And as it falls out with men newly come to greatestates, had many acquaintances about him fit to associate him in Potations and Drink, and conversations of Pleasure; but were mere strangers to Friendship. Among those was Agathocles, who conversed and drunk with them, not pleased with the course. Nor did Dinias value him more than his other flatterers. But at length became offended with his frequent reprehensions, and held him troublesome, for remembering him of his Ancestors, and counselling to keep what his father, with much industry possessed, and left him. So that he no longer admitted him to their Revellings, but continued his disorders privately with them; though with some concealment from Agathocles. It happened that the unfortunate man was persuaded by his flatterers that he was beloved of Chariclea, the wife of Demonax, a man of great Quality and Office, among the Ephesians; letters, also, were brought to him from the woman, and chaplets half withered, and apples just tasted, and whatsoever Bawds usually project for the enticement of young men, when they would insinuate affection into them, and inflame them with an opinion that they are first beloved. For such Arts prevail much▪ especially with such as think themselves handsome, till unawares they fall into the net. This Chariclea was a Courtly woman, but extraordinarily a whore; always his, who approached her upon the least suit. If any man but glanced at her, she presently returned a consent; so little fear was there of her denials. But withal, she was more artificially cunning then all other whores, to allure her servant●, and to keep him doubtful, till she had wholly vanquished him. And when he was once caught, to whet him on, and inflame him sometimes with quarrels, sometimes with enticements, soon after with disdain, and jealousy, of her inclination to another. In a word, she was every way expert, and practised in the arts how to deal with her Lovers. Her, then, Dinias' flatterers projected for the youth, and laid many trains to kindle his love towards Chariclea. She, who had already been the ruin of many such▪ and had acted innumerable affections, and like a changeable, and exercised mischief, had subverted many families, having got into her hands a youth, simple, and unexperienced in such stratagems, suffered him not to escape her clutches, but inclining, and ensnaring him on all sides, when she had wholly caught him, she herself seemed taken in the snare, and became to miserable Dinias the original of numberless mischiefs. For, first, she sent him letters, which were frequently seconded by her maid, who told him how her Mistress wept, and broke her sleeps; Lastly, how she, wretched woman, meant to strangle herself for Love. Till he became persuaded that he was most happy, amiable, and beyond measure affected by the Ephesian wives. At length, with much entreaty, he gave her a meeting, and from that time you may guess how easily he was to be caught by a woman beautiful, of a pleasant behaviour, skilled to weep when she list, and to mingle compassionate sighs with discourses, to twine about him at his departures, and to meet his approaches; to adorn herself in Dresses of most enticement, and sometimes to sing, and play on her Lute; All which arts she employed upon Dinias. But when she perceived him once perplexed, and sufficiently steeped, and melted in Love, that she might utterly ruin the wretch, she contrived this plot: she feigned herself with child by him, (a sure device the more to inflame a besotted Lover) and forbore farther visits, out of a pretence that she was observed by her husband▪ who had some Jealousies of their Love. He unable to bear the separation, and impatient when he see her not, wept, and assembled his flatterers, and dolefully invoked Charcilea's name, and embracing her statue made of Alabaster, made pitiful lamentation. At last, he cast himself down, and rolled himself upon the floor, and fell into a perfect distraction. Hereupon gifts were sent to her, not in value like her Apples, or Chaplets, but entire houses, farms, servants, embroidered garments, and gold as much as she desired. What shall I say more? In short time Lysios' family, the most renowned among the jonians, was wasted and spent. She having thus drawn him dry, forsook him, and laid her engines for a certain rich Cretan young Gentleman, to whom she revolted and made Love, which he believed. Dinias thus neglected not only of Chariclea, but of his flatterers, who also applied themselves to the Cretan Lover, addressed himself to Agathocles; who all the while was a spectator of the miscarriage of his affairs. After some expressions of shame, he told him the passages of his Love, wants, the woman's disdain, and his Cretan Rival; and in brief, how he could not live without Chariclea's conversation. He, holding it at that time unseasonable to expostulate with Dinias, why of all his friends he excluded him, and preferred his flatterers before him, ●old the only house he had, left him in Samos by his father, for three Talents, and brought him the price: which he no sooner received, but he left off to be obscure to Chariclea, and became once more amiable. The maid was again sent with letters, and a complaint for his strangeness. His flatterers also resorted to him, with much insinuation, seeing he had yet something to give. Dinias' promised to come to her, and came about the time of the first sleep. But, whither by his voluntary foreknowledge, or by design with his wife, for both are reported, Demonax, Chariclea's husband was within: who rising, as it were, from an Ambush, commanded to shut the doors, and to take Dinias; threatening fire, and whips, and drawing his sword as against an Adulterer. He seeing in what danger he was, snatched up a bar which lay near, and slew Demonax with a blow on the head, and next Chariclea; but not with one blow, but iterated strokes which he gave her, partly with the bar, lastly with her husband's sword. The servants in the mean time stood speechless, and astonished at the novelty of the enterprise. But endeavouring at length to apprehend him, he no sooner made resistance with the sword but they all fled. Dinias, after his great achievement, conveyed himself privately away, and lodged till morning with Agathocles, where they discoursed what had happened; and considered what might be the issue. 'Twas no sooner day but soldiers beset the house, (for the fact was by this time divulged) and took Dinias; whom, not at all denying the murders, they brought before the than Governor of Asia; who sent him to the great King, who not long after doomed him to Gyarus, one of the Cyclad Lands, there to remain banished during his life. Agathocles, who had assisted at his other misfortunes, sailed with him also into Italy, and was the only friend that stuck to him at his arraignment, and failed him in no good office. Nay after Dinias was banished, he was not forsaken of his friend; who voluntarily sentenced himself, associated him in the Isle, and shared in his banishment. At length wanting all necessary sustenance, and supplies, he hired himself to certain purple dyers, to dive for them, and nourished Dinias with his gains; and attended him also in a lingering sickness; and after his death he refused to return into his own Country, but tarried still in the Isle; holding it a reproach to forsake his friend though dead. These were the Acts of a Grecian friend, not of any ancient performance; For I know not well whether it be more than five years since Agathocles died in the Island.  Toxaris. 
I could wish Mnesippus, you had told this story unsworne, that I might not have believed it. For in Agathocles you have deciphered a Scythian friend, I fear you have not such another example.  Mnesipp. 
Hear, therefore, another, Toxaris; And it shall be Euthydicus of Chalcis; whose story was told me by Simylus, a Pilot of Megara, who swore he was witness to the whole passage. He said, he sailed from Italy towards Athens, about the setting of the Pleyades, and transported a mixed Company of Passengers. Among whom was Euthydicus, and with him Damon of Chalcis, who was his friend, of equal years; only Euthydicus was the lustier and stronger, Damon was pale, and feeble, and appeared like one lately recovered from a long sickness. They sailed, said Simylus as far as Sicily with prosperous winds; But upon their passage from that Sea into the Ionian, they were surprised with a great tempest; And not to spin out the Story with the descriptions of the vast risings, and Billows, and the other calamities of the storm; when they were near Zacynthus, sailing with a naked yard, and holding by the Tackling, the better to receive the fury of the waves, about midnight Damon, distempered with the tossing, stooped down to vomit into the sea, and the ship, as I guess, at that time shelving much on that side where he stood, and driven by the storm, he fell headlong into the sea, not naked, which might have advantaged the unfortunate man in swimming. Being almost stifled, he cried out, and with much labour raised himself above the flood: which Euthydocus no sooner heard, who by good fortune was then naked on the deck, but he cast himself into the Sea, and laying hold on Damon then gasping, (for by the moonshine we beheld the whole adventure) he swam by him, and held him up. They in the Ship strove to succour them, out of pity to their mutual distress; but could not, being ravished away by the violence of the wind. All they could do, was to throw many Corks, and poles to them, on which if they could lay hold, they might support themselves; and after all they let down a Ladder of no small length. Consider, now I pray, what stronger testimony of affection could any man show to his friend, then by night to cast himself into a Tempestuous sea, and to partake in his death. Lay, I say, before your imagination, the swelling of the waves, the horrid murmur of the Billows rolling together, the foam boiling round about, the night, and despair; then the one beginning to be choked, and hardly able to bear himself above water, or to reach out his hand to his friend, the other presently leaping overboard, and swimming by him, and fearing lest Damon should perish before him; and you will perceive that this Euthydicus whom I have reported to you was no degenerous friend.  Toxaris. 
Were they both drowned, Mnesippus, or did some unexpected deliverance befall them? for I have all this while assisted them with my fears.  Mnesipp. 
Take courage Toxaris, they were both saved, and do now study Philosophy at Athens. All that Simylus▪ could report was, what he saw by night, the one tumbling overboard, the other leaping after him, and both swimming together, which was all the spectacle he could have of them in the dark. The rest of the escape is told by Euthydicus himself; As first, that having lighted on some Corks, they supported themselves by them, and with much difficulty kept themselves floating; At last, towards morning, when they saw a Ladder let down, they swum to it, and ascending the vessel, they safely sailed on to Zacynthus. Next to these examples, not vulgar, as I suppose, lend me your Attention to a third, not at all inferior to the other two. Eudamidas, the Corinthian, held strait friendship with Aretaeus of Corinth, and Charixenus the Sicyonian: being himself as poor as they were wealthy▪ At his death he left a will, in the judgement of others, perhaps, ridiculous, though I know not whether it will appear so to you, who are a good man, and value friendship, and therein deserve to be ranked with the foremost. The purpose of it was this. I bequeath to Aretaeus my mother, to be maintained, and cherished in her old age. And to Charixenus my daughter, to be bestowed with as great a dowry as he can possibly give with her. Now he had a mother very aged; and a daughter ripe for marriage. And if, said he, either of them shall die in the mean time, let the other take his burden. When his will was read, they who known only his poverty, and known not what friendship was between Eudamidas and these two men, made it matter of sport: and there was no man who departed not smiling at the Legacies bequeathed to rich Aretaeus, and Charixenus; and saying, that they were to pay Legacies to Eudamidas, and that the survivers were to give inheritances to the deceased. But the heirs, who were thus left, came assoon as they heard of the will, and ratified it in all the particulars. Only Charixenus survived him five days, and died. Whereupon Aretaeus, the generous successor of both, took upon him both his own, and the others charge: and maintains Eudamidas' Mother, and not long since matched his daughter; and of the five talents which he was worth, he gave two with his own daughter, and two with his friend's, and caused their marriages to be celebrated upon the same day. And now Toxaris what think you of this Aretaeus? Hath he not given a noble instance of friendship, to inherit such Legacies, and not to frustrate his friends will? Is he, think you, In just account to be reckoned among the five?  Toxaris. 
He is a rare example. Yet I much more admire the confidence of Eudamidas in his friends: whereby he gave proof that he would have done the like for them, though charged by no will, and had prevented others, though he had not been written heir to such Legacies.  Mnesipp. 
You say well. The fourth, then, of whom I shall speak is Zenothemis, the son of Charmoleus, borne at Marcelleis. He was shown to me in Italy, when I was there Ambassador for my Country. He seemed to be a man of goodly presence, big, and wealthy. By him in Coach as he traveled sat his wife, every way deformed, especially lame of her right side, blind of one eye, a Hag perfectly loathsome, and not to be approached. I wondering that one so proper, and beautiful, should have the patience to wed a woman so mishapen, he who showed him to me told me the occasion of his marriage; exactly knowing all passages, being himself of Marcelleis. Zenothemis, said he, was friend to Menecrates; this ill-featured woman's father, whom he equalled in wealth and honour; though he abounded in both. It came to pass that Menecrates was ruined in his fortune, and made uncapable of honour by the sentence of the six hundred, as one that had given Judgement contrary to Law. For so, said he, do we of Marcelleis punish those who pronounce corruptly. Menecrates was much grieved, both for his doom, and that in an instant of a rich man he was made poor, and of a great man dishonourable. But above all his daughter troubled him most, now marriageable, being eighteen years old, whom not with all fortunes which her father before his sentence possessed, any, either rich, or poor, would vouchsafe to marry, of such affrighting lineaments: was she. She was said too, to have the fits of the falling evil, at every increase of the Moon. When Menecrates laid all this open to Zenothemis in one complaint: he bid him take heart, and told him that he should neither want accommodations, nor his daughter a husband worthy her descent. And so saying he took him by the hand, brought him to his house, divided his estate, which was very great, with him, and made a feast, where he entertained his friends, and among them Menecrates, as if he had prevailed with one of them to accept the wench in marriage. The meal being ended, and grace said, delivering to him a full bowl, Take, said he, Menecrates from thy son in law a pledge of Alliance; for to day I will marry Cydimache thy daughter: I have formerly received five and twenty Talents as her dowry. The other replied, the Gods forbid, It must not be Zenothemis, nor must I be so mad to suffer you, a young man, and amiable, to be joined to a deformed, opprobrious girl. Thus saying, the other took his bride, led her into his chamber, and a while after brought her forth unvirgined, and from that time lives most affectionately with her, and carries her every where, as you see, about with him; And is so far from taking shame at his match, that he makes it his glory to show how much he contemns the beauties, or deformities of the body; Riches also, & opinion, and reflects only on Menecrates, his friend: whom he thinks not the less capable of his friendship for being sentenced by the six hundred. Though fortune have for this requited him. For a very fair son hath been borne to him of a very fowl mother. 'Tis not long since his father took him, and carried him into the Court crowned with a green chaplet, and clad in mourning, the better to win pity to his Grandfather. The Infant smiled upon the Judges, and clapped its hands: whereupon the Court was so taken with him, that they forgave his Fine, and restored him to his honours, overcome by such an advocate. Thus much the Marcilean affirmed Zenothemis to have done for his friend: wherein you find nothing ordinary, or done like you Scythians; who are said to choose only the most beautiful your Mistresses. I pass on to the fifth. Nor think I it fit to speak of any other and to omit Demetrius the Sunian. This Demetrius sailed in company into Egypt with Antiphilus of Alopece; who was his friend of a child; and with whom he grew up, and was bred to the study of Cynic Philosophy under Rhodius the Sophister; Antiphilus to Physic. But at this time Demetrius went into Egypt to see the Pyramids, and Memnon's Statue. For he had heard that from their great height they did cast no shadow; and that Memnon at every Sun rising was vocal. Drawn, therefore, with the desire of those spectacles, in August he sailed up the Nile, and left Antiphilus tired with travel and heat; who, in the mean time, fell into a misfortune, which required the assistance of a generous friend. For one Syrus his servant, so styled from his Country, by conspiracy with certain sacrilegious thiefs, broke into Anubis Temple, and stole the God, two golden Chalices, a guilt Caduceus, divers dogs heads of silver, with other things. All which they left to be kept by Syrus. Soon after being apprehended selling some things, they confessed all upon their first torture upon the wheel. And being carried to Antiphilus lodging, they produced the things stolen, secretly under a Couch. Syrus was presently bound, and his master Antiphilus ravished from his Tutor as he was then at Lecture. No man assisted him, but they who were but till than his friends, shunned him as a robber of Anubis Temple, and thought it Impiety either to drink or to eat with him. His other servants, who were two, rifling all that was in the house betook themselves to flight. Long time lay miserable Antiphilus in shackles, of all the malefactors there imprisoned held the greatest. The Gaoler, also, an Egyptian, a man superstitious, thought he pleasured and revenged his God by being harsh to Antiphilus. If at any time he defended himself, and denied the Fact, he was held impudent, and became so much the more odious. This drew on a sickness, and cast him into a disease. And no marvel, lying nightly on the ground, and not able to extend his legs locked up in the stocks. For by day he was enclosed in a cage, and but one of his hands manacled, but by night he lay wholly in fetters. Add to this the stink, and ill air of the house, arising from so many close prisoners, thrust into a narrow room, and scarce able to breath; Then the sound of Irons, and broken sleeps, all which were grievous, and intolerable to one unpractised, and unaccustomed to so hard a kind of usage. As he thus languished, and refused to eat any meat, Demetrius returned, ignorant of what had happened. But assoon as he knew how things stood, he presently ran to the prison, but was not permitted entrance. It being then night, and the Gaoler having long before locked the door, and gone to sleep, and commanded his under keepers to watch. In the morning, after much entreaty, he was let in; and coming near, 'twas long before he could find Antiphilus, so much disguised was he with his misfortunes. In search of him, therefore, he viewed every prisoner, like those who seek the withered bodies of their dead friends after a slaughter. So that had he not aloud revealed himself to be Antiphilus, the son of Denomenes, he had been long unknown who he was; so transformed was he by his calamities. But assoon as he answered to his Friend's voice, and, as he came near, stroked aside his hair, which hung fowl, and knotted over his face, and discovered who he was, both fell down amazed at the strangeness of the spectacle. After a while, both coming to themselves, Demetrius enquired of him exactly how he fell into that mishap. And bid him take courage, divided his mantle, and wore one half himself, the other he gave to him; and stripped him of his own tottered rags. And from that time giving him his best assistances, he took care of him, and attended him. For hiring himself out from morning till noon to certain Merchants, who then lay in the Haven, his gains were not sma●l which he earned by carrying burdens; and still when he returned from his labour, part of his gains he gave to the Gaoler to mollify and make him gentle, the rest plentifully served to supply his friend. By day, therefore, he kept Antiphilus company, and comforted him; and when night came, he reposed himself not far from the prison gate upon a bed made of grass and boughs. Thus a while they lived; Demetrius had free accesses, which much mitigated the afflictions of Antiphilus: Till at length, upon the death of a certain thief in the prison, it seems, poisoned, the gates were strictlier kept, and no man was any more permitted to enter into the house, whereat Demetrius much perplexed, and troubled, and having no other way to relieve his friend, went to the Magistrate, and accused himself for one of those who broke into Anubis Temple. Upon which confession he was presently carried to the prison, and brought to Antiphilus; and with much petition obtained of the Keeper that he might be chained next to him in the same ●ives. Here, then, was a rare expression of friendship, to despise his own miseries, and though he were himself sick, yet he took care that the other might sleep quietly, and undisturbed. Thus lessened they their misfortunes by communion; Till not long after an Accident happened which did almost put a period to their sufferings. For one of the prisoners, having, I know not from whence, got a file, and made most of the other prisoners of the conspiracy, filled asunder a chain to which they were fastened by a row of shackles, and let them all loose. They having easily slain their Keepers, being but few, issued forth in Tumults, and presently dispersed themselves several ways as they safeliest might, though many of them were afterwards taken. Demetrius and Antiphilus remained, and stayed Syrus, ready to follow the rest. Next morning, the Perfect of Egypt, knowing what had happened, sent pursuers after them; and sending for those who were with Demetrius released them of their shackles; much praising them that they only refused to make an escape. They were not at all pleased with their manner of dismission Demetrius, therefore, proclaimed both himself & friend much injured, if being taken for malefactors, they should be thought worthy of pity, or praise, or releasement, because they did not break prison. To conclude, therefore, they compelled the Judge more exactly to reexamini the business; who finding them innocent, with great praises of both, and admiration of Demetrius acquitted them. And as a recompense for the punishment, and shackles, which they unjustly suffered, he gave them large gifts; ten thousand drachmas to Antiphilus, and twice so many to Demetrius. Antiphilus is now in Egypt. But Demetrius bestowing his twenty thousand Drachmas on his friend, went into India to the brahmin's; saying only thus much to Antiphilus at his departure, that he hoped he was excusable if he than left him; and that he needed not money as long as he was of a composition to be content with a little; nor that he any farther wanted a friend, whose affairs were so well accomplished. These were Grecian Friends, Toxaris. And here, had you not in the beginning noted us for high talkers, I could repeat to you the many excellent Orations spoken by Demetrius at his Arraignment, where he made no defence for himself; but spent tears and supplications for Antiphilus; and took the whole offence upon himself, till Syrus urged by scourging acquitted both. These few examples of many famous, and constant friends, as they first offered themselves to my remembrance, have I reported to you. 'Tis now time that finishing my Narration, you should begin yours, whom it will concern to produce Scythians not of inferior, but of much more eminent example, if you intent your right hand shall not be cut off. Be constant to yourself therefore; For 'twill show most ridiculous in you, having, so like a Sophister, extolled Orestes and Pylades, to show yourself a bad Orator for your Country.  Toxaris. 
You do well, Mnesippus, to invite me to speak, and not to show yourself afraid, that vanquished by my narrations, your tongue shall be cut out. I begin, then, not like you, with Trappings of speech, (a thing unusual to Scythians) since the realities of my stories shall be more eloquent than the Historian. Nor are you to expect from me stories like yours, who have magnified a man for wedding a deformed woman, without a portion; Another for giving two Talents in Marriage with his friend's daughter; a third for casting himself voluntarily into shackles; knowing he was shortly after to be released. All which are slight passages, and have nothing high, or manly in them. I will recount to you slaughters, wars, and deaths undergone for Friends; whereby you shall perceive how childish your undertake are compared to ours. Yet it is not without cause that you admire your own small adventures, since living in a firm, established peace, you want those Heroic opportunities, by which friendships are to be tried. As you cannot judge in a calm of the Abilities of a Pilot, which are best discovered in a storm. Whereas we have continual wars, and do either invade others, or are invaded ourselves; or joining battle do fight for pastures, or prey. Hence stand we most in need of good friends, whose Arms become unconquered, and impregnable from the strictness of our friendships. First, then, let me tell you, that the Ceremonies by which we initiate friends, are not, like yours, performed in Bowls, and Potations; or with our equals, or neighbours: but when we see a man valiant, and able for great Actions, we all presently affect him; and the same course which you take to win your wives, do we take to beget friends. We court them much, and omit no application, which may defeat us of their friendship, or render us despised. And when choice is made of a friend, articles are next entered into, and a solemn oath taken, that they shall mutually live, and, if need be, die, for one another. Next, having opened a vein in our hand, we receive the blood in a cup, in which we dip the points of our swords; then both drink, nor can any thing afterwards divide us. These leagues at most consist of three: we account of him who is a friend to more, as we do of common adulterate wives, and never think his a firm lasting friendship, which is divided among many. I will begin, then, with the late Deeds of Dandamis. This Dandamis seeing his friend Amizocas taken prisoner in a skirmish with the Sarmatians— But first I will take my oath as we agreed in the beginning. By this Air, and Sagar, I will report no untruths, Mnesippus, of our Scythian friendships.  Mnesipp: 
I might very well spare your oath, Toxaris, if you swear by none of the Gods.  Toxaris, 
Why? Do not you take the Wind, and Sagar for Gods? or know you not that to Mortals nothing is greater than life and death? we swear by those two as often as we swear by the Wind the cause of Life, and a Sagar the cause of Death.  Mnesipp: 
If this be a good reason, you may have many such Gods as your Sagar; as a Dart, Spear, and Poison, and a Rope; for death is a various and numerous Deity; and is by endless ways attained.  Toxaris. 
See what a caviller, and wrangler you are, thus to trouble, and divert my discourse, who all the while you spoke kept silence.  Mnesipp: 
You deservedly chide me, Toxaris. Hereafter, therefore, I will not interrupt you. Proceed, therefore, in your story; you shall have me as silent, as if I were absent, to your Relations.  Toxaris. 
The fourth day, then, after Dandamis, and Amizocas had joined friendship, and confirmed it with a mutual draught of blood, the Sarmatians entered our Country with ten thousand Horse, and thirty thousand foot. We, surprised with their invasion, were put into a distraction: some, who made resistance they slay; some they led away alive; none scap't, but such as swum cross the River, where lay half our Army, and a great part of our wagons. For our Commanders, I know not for what design had at that time lodged their Troops on both sides of Tanais. They, therefore, easily made their prey, led away captive, ransacked our Tents, took our Chariots with the men, and ravished our wives, and concubines before our eyes. The accident much troubled us. But Amizocas, as he was led captive, and manacled, loudly invoked his friend, and remembered him of the cup, and blood. Which Dandamis no sooner heard, but without delay in the sight of all he swum over to the enemies, who cast showers of darts at him; and had with one assault thrust him through had he not cried out Zizis: At the pronunciation of which word they slay no man, but receive him, as yielding himself to be ransomed. Being brought to their General, he demanded his friend, and he demanded his ransom, and refused to give him liberty but at an excessive price. Then said Dandamis, all my possessions and fortunes you have taken from me. If naked, as I am, I can make you satisfaction, I am ready. Make your demands. Take me, if you please in exchange, and abuse me as you list. 'Twere needless, replied the Sarmatian, to keep thee who didst voluntarily yield thyself. Give something which thou now possessest in ransom of thy friend, and take him. Dandamis bid him ask what he would. He required his eyes; which the other presently submitted to be plucked out. Which being done, and the Sarmatians allowing it for a ransom, he returned, leaning on his friend, and swimming with him back again safely arrived at us. This Action struck spirit into the Scythians, who now thought themselves not vanquished, since the thing by us most valued was not conquered by the enemy; but that our courage, and Constancy to our friends, was still unsubdued. The Sarmatians, on the contrary, were much terrified, when they considered what men they were to encounter upon preparation; though they then overcame them by surprise. 'Twas therefore, no sooner night, but leaving most of their spoils behind them, and burning our Chariots, they betook themselves to flight. Amizocas in the mean time, disdaining the use of his eyes, after his friend had lost his, made himself blind. And now sightless, as they are, they are observed, and kept with all honour at the public charge of the Scythians. I doubt, Mnesippus, whether you could equal this example, though I should allow you to join ten more to your five; or if unsworne you should have liberty to use what fictions you list. I have delivered nothing but naked story, which in your narration had, I know right well, been painted with all variety of circumstances; How affectionate Dandamis entreaties were; how gladly he lost his eyes; what he said, how he returned, and with what acclamations he was received; with other passages, wherewith you artificially work on your hearers. Hear, next▪ the story of Belitta, Cousin German to Amizocas, equal to the former. He beholding Basthes his friend, at a hunting, plucked from his horse by a Lion, who infolding him in his paws, began to tear his throat, alighting from his horse leapt upon the Lion's back, forcibly rained back his head upon himself, spurred, and provoked him, thrust his fingers into his mouth; and laboured with all his strength to free Basthes from his Jaws, till the Lion leaving him half dead turned upon Belitta; and gripping him in his paws killed him, who dying, had only the power to thrust his sword into the Lion's paunch, and so all three expired. Whom we have buried, and erected two neighbouring monuments, one to the two friends, the other just opposite to the Lyon. My third relation shall be of the friendship of Macentes, Lonchatas, and Arsacomas. This Arsacomas became enamoured of Mazaea, daughter of Leucanor, who reigned in Bosphorus, at that time when he was sent Ambassador thither to demand the Tribute, which the Bosphorans are obliged to pay us; but were then behind three months beyond their accustomed day. For having sight of Mazaea at a feast, a goodly, and amiable Lady, he was inflamed, and much struck with her. The business of the tribute was now transacted, and the King having given him his answer, and entertained him at a banquet, was ready to give him his dispatch. 'Tis the custom in Bosphorus that suitors woo openly at Table, where they declare their Quality, and to what fortunes they can bring those they desire to marry. It happened that there were many suitors then present, both Kings, and Kings sons; Among whom were Tigrapates, Prince of Themiscyra, and Adyrmachus, Duke of Maclyna, hand many others; every wooer having revealed himself, and shown upon what confidence he came thither a suitor, is to feast with the rest, and to sit silent. The Feast ended, he is to take a cup, and to pour wine on the Table, then to address himself to the Bride, and to enlarge his own praises, by declaring his Pedigree, wealth, and power. Many having performed the Ceremony, and extolled their Dominions, & estates, at last Arsacomas requesting the cup, spilt no wine (for we hold it reproachful to the God to spill him) but taking it off at a draught, give me thy, daughter Mazaea, O King, said he, to wife, who for my riches, and possessions am much to be preferred before these; whereat Leucanor wondering, and knowing Arsacomas to be but a poor vulgar Scythian, asked him, How many head of Cattle, and wagons have you, Arsacomas? for herein you Scythians are only rich. I have, said he, neither wagons nor flocks; but I have two rare, and excellent friends, such as no Scythian hath besides, which raised their general laughter, who contemned and thought him drunk. In the morning Adyrmachus was preferred before the rest, who shortly after purposed to carry his Bride into Maeotis to his Machlyans. At his return Arsacomas reported to his two friends how dishonourably he was refused by the King, and laughed at in the banquet for his poverty. Though, said he, I told him what great Treasures I had in you Lonchates, and Macentas, and in your friendship, which is much more precious, and powerful than all the Bosphoran forces, whereat he laughed, and despised us Scythians, and gave his daughter in marriage to Adyrmachus the Machlyan, for boasting himself to have ten golden Cups, eighty fourseated Chariots, besides sheep and oxen in abundance; preferring before valiant men herds of Cattle, wrought bowls, and massy Chariots. Two things, then, my best friends, torment me, my love of Mazaea, and affront in so public an assembly, where, I suppose, you also equally injured; s●nce every one severally is interested in the third par of the dishonour, if we live as we begun at our first conjunction, three made one, and do resent and rejoice at the same things. More than so, said Lonchates, in your sufferings the whole injury was offered to every one of us in particular. How, then, replied Macentas, shall we order our revenge? let us divide, answered Lonchates, the business among us. I dare undertake to bring Leucanors head to Arsacomas, be it your task to bring him his daughter. I accept the division, answered Lonchates; and do you, said he, Arsacomas in the mean time (for the enterprise must in likelihood engage us in a war) stay here, and raise what Arms, Horses, and Forces you can: which will be no hard matter, being yourself a stout man, and our Allies being not few, but especially if you sit upon the ox hide. The design pleased; and Lonchates presently took the next way into Bosphorus, Macentes to the Machlyans, both well horsed. But Arsacomas stayed at home; and imparted the adventure to his equal acquaintances, and put some Companies of his familiars into arms; and lastly sat down upon the ox hide. Now our custom of the hide is this; when any man is injured by another, and would redress himself, and is unable to wage war, he sacrificeth an ox, whose flesh he divides into parcels, and roasts it; then spreading the hide upon the ground, sits on it, holding his hands behind him, like those who are pinioned. And this with us is the most passionate way of petitioning. Then the flesh of the ox roasted being set to the public access, his near acquaintances, and whosoever else will, assemble to him, and taking every one a piece, and treading on the hide with their right foot, promise aid according to their abilities; one to find five horse at his own charge, another ten, another more, another as many Armed foot soldiers, as he can; and he that is poorest, himself: so that sometimes great troops are gathered to the hide, and an Army thus raised is of firmest combination, and as inviolable to the enemy, as if they were knit by Sacrament; for to tread upon the hide is with us an oath. Thus did Arsacomas order matters; to whom repaired about five thousand horsemen, and promiscuously armed twenty thousand foot. Lonchates, in the mean time, passing unknown into Bosphorus got access to the King then busy in affairs of State; and told him that he came publicly sent by the Scythians, but that the greatness of his message required to be delivered in private. The King bidding him speak his embassy. As for their common, daily grievances, said he, the Scythians forbid that your shepherds any more pass beyond your own plains, but feed their flocks within Tracho. Next, they deny those thiefs, whereof you accuse them for overrunning your Country, to have any public warrant; but say, they rob for their own private gain, and that if any of them be taken, 'tis in your power to punish them. And this I have commission to tell you from them. But from my own private Intelligence I do inform you, that Arsacomas, the son of Mariantas, who was lately ambassador here, will shortly make a great invasion upon you, the cause, I guess to be your refusal of him when he desired your daughter, which he takes as a dishonour, and hath already sat seven days upon the hide; and contracted an Army not contemptible. I have heard, said Leucanor, that forces were assembled to the hide, but knew not that they were raised against us; or that Arsacomas ruled the expedition. Against thee, said Lonchates, is the preparation made. But Arsacomas is my enemy, and takes resentment that our Elders should prefer me before him; or that I should in all things eclipse his reputation; If therefore, Thou wilt contract thy other daughter Barcetis to me, who am not unworthy of the Alliance, ere long I will return and bring thee his head. I do here promise said the King, exceedingly frighted, knowing the cause of Arsacomas quarrel to be the denial of his marriage. Besides, the Scythians had ever been dreadful to him. Swear, said Lonchates, to keep covenants, and never to deny them, which the King preparing to do, and being ready to swear with his hands lift up to heaven, forbear thus openly, Sir, said the other, lest some of the beholders make interpretations of your Oath. But let us enter into this Temple of Mars, and shut the doors, that none may overhear you: for if the least revelation be made to Arsacomas, I fear, he will begin the war with my sacrifice, being already fortified with no small Regiments. Let us enter, said the King; and keep you distance, nor let any approach the Temple whom I shall not call. Being entered, and the guard far removed, Lonchates drew his Sagar, and stopping his mouth with the other hand to suppress cries, stabbed him in the breast. Then cutting off his head, and carrying it under his cloak, he went forth, making as if he spoke to him all the while, and saying he would presently come again, as if he had been sent by the King upon business. And so returning to the place where he left his horse tied, mounting he road back into Scythia. But no pursuit was made after him, because 'twas long before the Bosphorans knew what was done; and when they knew they grew factious for the Kingdom. Thus accomplished Lonchates his atchieument, and fulfilled his undertaking by the delivery of Leucanors head to Arfacomas. Macentes having intelligence by the way of the Bosphoran affairs, passed on to the Machlyans, and was the first reporter of the King's death. But the people, said he, call on you, Adyrmachus, being his son in Law, to accept the Crown; By way of Anticipation, therefore, things favouring you by their distraction, show yourself unexpectedly, and assume the Empire. Let your wife by Coach follow after: whose presence, being Leucanors daughter, will give you a quick interest in the vulgar Bosphorans. As for me, I am both an Alliance, and of affinity to your wife by the mother. For Leucanor married Mastera from my Country: from whose brothers at Alania I am now sent with commission to exhort you to make all hasty dispatch into Bosphorus; and not to suffer the Crown to fall on Eubiatus, Leucanors base brother, a long friend to the Scythians, and disaffected to the Alanes. Thus said Macentes, resembling that people both in his habit, and speech. for there is only this difference between them, that the Alanes wear not their hair so long as the Scythians; which Macentes having newly cut, passed easily undistinguished, and gained credit to his disguise, under which he was taken for Mastera's, and Mazaea's kinsman. And now, said he, I am ready, Adyrmachus, as you please to command me; either to accompany you into Bosphorus, or to stay, and as occasion serves to conduct your wife. I had much rather, replied Adyrmachus, that being of her alliance you would convey my wife. For by accompanying me into Bosphorus you shall but add one horseman more to the Troop: but in conducting my wife you will serve in stead of many. Things thus resolved, he presently began his journey, and left Mazaea yet a virgin, to be brought after by Macentes; who by day carried her in a coach. But when night came, by design with one of his servants, who followed him with horses, he set her on horseback, and mounting himself, kept not any longer the way towards Moeotis, but turning aside to the Mediterranean, and leaving the Mitraean mountains on his right hand, appeasing the young Lady the best he could, in three day's passage through the Machlyans, he arrived in Scythia: where his horse no sooner finished his course, but after a short stand expired. But Mecentes delivering Mazaea to Arsacomas, Receive, said he, from me my promise; and when the other much astonished at the unhoped for spectacle prepared to thank him: Forbear, said Macentes, to make me any other than yourself, For to acknowledge yourself obliged to me for what I have done, is as if my left hand should give thanks to the right, for curing it wounded, and affording it friendly attendance. 'twere, than, most ridiculous in us, if after a long conjunction, we, who as far as 'tis possible became one, should put great values upon any thing adventurously achieved by a part for the whole. Since being but a part, the good wrought for the whole, was wrought for the part too. Thus said Macentes to Arsacomas, preparing to give him thanks. But when Adyrmachus heard of the plot, he broke off his journey intended for Bosphorus; for there Eubiotus was Crowned, called home from Sarmatia, where he sojourned, and returning to his Country raised a great Army, and through the mountains made an invasion upon Scythia. Shortly after he was seconded by Eubiotus, who led a promiscuous Army of greeks, Alanes, and choice Sarmatians, consisting of 20000 of each, which joined to Adyrmachus Troops, made an Army of ninety Thousand; whereof the third part were Horse Archers: we on the contrary, (I bearing a share in the expedition, to which I with others assembled to the hide contributed an hundred well appointed horsemen) having gathered a body, little less than thirty thousand, with our Cavalry attended their assault, having Arsacomas for our General. As they made their approach, we marched Counter, placing our forces of Horse in front. After a long uncertain battle, we were put to the worst, and our Squadrons routed; And at last the Scythians being divided into two bodies, one part fled, as if apparently vanquished, but in a kind of retreat, so as the Alanes durst not pursue them far, but encircling the other part which was the weaker, with help of the Machlyans, made great slaughter with their showers of Darts, and Arrows: so that our men thus besieged were very much distressed, and many of them threw away their Arms; in which number by chance were Lonchates, and Macentes; who more forward than others to put themselves upon dangers, were both wounded, Lonchates with a poisoned dart which burned his thigh, Macentes with a stroke of a Battle axe on the head, and a halberd on the shoulder, which when Arsacomas understood, who was then with us in the other part of the Army, holding it dishonourable not to relieve his friends, putting spurs to his horse, with loud cries and his sword drawn he broke through the enemy, nor could the Machlyans resist his fury, but gave him passage. He having brought off his friends, and given new courage to the rest, rushed upon Adyrmachus, and striking him on the neck with his vineyard, cloven him down to the girdle, upon whose fall the whole Army of the Machlyans were disordered, and soon after the Alanes, and after all the Grecians. So that by an after Battle we conquered, and pursued them with a great slaughter, to which only the night gave a period: next day came Ambassadors from the enemy with petitions of League. The Bosphorans covenanted to pay double Tribute, the Machlyans promised to give Hostages; the Alanes in discharge of that invasion undertook to subdue the Syndians ancient enemies to our State. To these Articles we agreed, led chiefly by the consents of Arsacomas, and Lonchates, who swayed the rest, and a peace was concluded. These, Mnesippus, are the exploits of Scythians for their friends.  Mnesipp. 
They are very Tragical, Toxaris, and sound like Romances; your Sagar, therefore, and wind by which you swore must grant easy pardons, and not blame him much that shall not believe you.  Toxaris. 
Take heed, generous Sir, your envy cause not your infidelity: yet shall not your hardness of faith divert me from reporting the like erterprises performed by other Scythians of my knowledge.  Mnesipp. 
Be not tedious, then, I beseech you, excellent Sir, nor let your discourse be Errantry, or sometimes wander up and down Scythia, and Machlyna, then pass over into Bosphorus, at last return home to the vexation of my silence.  Toxaris. 
You shall be obeyed in your impositions and I will be brief, lest your attention should tyre in following my Digressions. Hear then what a friend of mine called Sisinnes did for me. When I took my voyage for Athens, out of my desire to the Greek education, I struck in at Amastris, a Town of Pontus, lying just in passage to those who sail from Scythia, and not far distant from Carambe. Sisinnes bore me company, my friend of a child. Here we saw certain Merchandizes brought into the Haven, which carrying ashore we bought, not suspecting any mischance. In the mean time, some thiefs broke open our trunks, and stole all we had, and left us not enough to supply us for that day. At our return from our Lodging, understanding what had happened, we thought it not fit to question the neighbours being many, or our Host, out of our fear to be taken for Braggarts, if we should have complained that four hundred Daricks, divers suits of rich apparel, and hangings, and whatsoever else we had, had been stolen from us. We consulted, therefore, what men thus impoverished were to do in a strange place my resolution was to kill myself, by falling on my sword, before I was cast upon base ways of relief, either by thirst or famine. But Sisinnes by his better counsels diverted me from such a fact: And said he had found a way to sustain us. That day his gains for carrying wood from the wharf supplied us with victuals. Next morning, as he walked in the market place, he saw (as he tells the story) a gallant show of stout young Gentlemen, who man by man were chosen for a prize set, to enter combat the third day following. Having well instructed himself in the conditions, he came to me, and said, Toxaris, hereafter call not yourself poor, for three days hence I will enrich you. We passing the time in miserable reliefs, at the day of the show came thither as spectators. Inviting me abroad he carried me to the Theatre, as to some delightful spectacle of the Grecians. Having seated ourselves, we saw first some wild beasts pierced with javelins, and hunted with dogs; others let loose upon certain men bound, whom we guessed to be malefactors. When the combatants entered, the crier produced a young man of vast size, saying, if any man will enter duel with this Champion, let him stand forth, and as the reward of the fight he shall receive ten thousand Drachmas. Sisinnes presently rising up, leapt our, undertook the combat, and required arms; and receiving the money delivered it into my hands; saying, If I overcome, Toxaris, when we depart this shall be our viaticum. If I be slain, bury me, and return to Scythia. The words drew sighs from we, whilst he taking the Armour, put it all on but the helmet, and fought bare headed. In the first encounter he was wounded with a reversed blow in the ham; at which much blood issued, which half slew me with fear; but he stoutly observing his adversaries assaults, ran him through the breast, whereupon he fell presently at his feet. And he faint with his wound was forced to sit down upon his conquest; so near was he expiration. I running to him, raised him, and gave him heart. And after he was declared victor, took him upon my back, and carried him home: where he lay a while under cure, but is now recovered, and lives in Scythia, married to my sister, only he is still lame of his wound. This, Mnesippus, was not done among the Machlyans, or in Alania, which might give you colours for your distrust. But the Amastrians have yet in fresh memory Sisinnes combat. I will conclude my first narration with the story of Abauchas. This Abauchas arrived at the City of the Borysthenians, and brought with him his wife, whom he exceedingly loved, and two children, one a sucking boy, the other a girl, of the age of seven years. He had besides in his company a friend, one Gyndanes, who lay sick of a wound received by the way from certain thiefs which assaulted them. By whom in the skirmish he was hurt in the thigh, and disabled from standing by the pain. One night as they lodged in an upper chamber, and were all asleep, a great fire happened, which shut them in, and surrounded the house. At which Abauchas awaking, left his children crying, and thrusting away his wife, who cleaved to him, and bidding her save herself, taking his friend upon his shoulders, he carried him down, and broke with him through the flame untouched. His wife bearing the little infant followed, and bid her daughter follow her, but half burned she was constrained to cast the child from her arms, and yet hardly so escaped the flame; her daughter also which closely followed was almost smothered. Afterwards, when one objected to Abauchas, that he betrayed his wife, and children, and saved Gyndanes, 'Twill not be hard for me, said he, to beget more children; besides 'tis doubtful how they will prove: but it must be a long time before I can find such another friend as Gyndanes; of whose affection I had so many trials. I have said, Mnesippus, and have reported five examples of many. 'Tis now time to pronounce whether I be to lose my right hand, or you your tongue; who shall be Judge?  Mnesipp. 
That we did not agree upon. But I'll tell you what we will do; since we have all this while shot without a mark; let us upon a new agreement choose a Moderator, and report before him other examples of friendship. and as the conquest is decided, let either my tongue, or your hand be cut off; or if such decision be too savage, since you seem to be an admirer of friendship; and since I hold nothing more excellent, or desirable to men, why should not we two combined between ourselves, hereafter become friends, and for ever interchange affections, being both conquerors, and both receiving the highest reward, instead of one tongue and one hand, two apiece; four eyes also, & four feet, & in a word, all things double? For two or three friends joined become the Geryon described by writers to be a man with six hands, and three heads. But I suppose them three men who did all things in common as it becomes friends.  Toxaras. 
You say well, be it so then.  Mnesippus. 
To confirm our friendship, then, we need not use a sword, Toxaris, or blood. Our present discourse, and sympathy is much more powerful than your Cup: since such friendships require affection not necessity for their ground.  Toxaris. 
'Tis true. Be we then mutually friends, and hosts, you to me here in Greece, I to you whensoever you come into Scythia.  Mnesipp: 
Assure yourself, I would take a much longer voyage to gain such a friend, as you, Toxaris, by your discourse have shown yourself.   

Anacharsis, or a Discourse of Exercises.  The Speakers Anacharsis and Solon. Anarcharsis. 
What Custom is this among you, Solon? some of your young men mutually closing, trip up one another's heels; others take their companion by the Throat, and toss him; others tumble, and roll themselves in the mire like swine. But first I observed that unclothing themselves they shave and anoint one another very peaceably; and presently, I know not upon what quarrel, they fall to pushing, and to dash foreheads like rams. Look, yonder one having lift his fellow up by the thighs, hurls him to the ground, and falling on him, suffers him not to rise, but draws him into a puddle, and screwing his legs up to his belly, and infolding his neck with his arm almost stifles him; another beats him on the back; requesting him, I suppose, not to be choked; nor care they to lose their oil, or to be sullied; but bemiring, bedaubing, and putting themselves into a great sweat, make me sport, like so many Eels slipping away between the holder's fingers. In like manner, others here in the Court yard, roll not themselves in puddle, but in the deep sand, and tumble together into a pit, where like so many cocks they bedust one another, to hinder dis-imbracements, I suppose, & to avoid slipperynesse; and by drying his body, to strengthen his hold on his adversary. Others, keeping posture, and dusted all over, beat and kick one another. See how yonder poor wretch sprinkled with sand bleeds with a blow on the face, and is ready to spit out his teeth; nor doth their Captain (for so I guess him by his purple) offer to part them, or compose the quarrel, but rather provokes them, and praises the striker: others, far off, with much speed seem to run races, yet keep the same place, and kick up their heels into the air. I would, therefore, know to what end they do thus. For to me these agitations seem plain madness; nor shall any man easily persuade me that they, who do thus, are not distracted.  Solon. 
'Tis like enough, Anacharsis, that these exercises carry such appearances to you, being strange, and different from your Scythian customs, and forms of exercises; which to a Grecian spectator, would seem as foreign, and strange. But censure fairly, I pray, These are not exercises of distraction; nor do they beat, or roll in the mire, or besprinkle one another with dust out of quarrel, but out of a delightful necessity, to increase the strength, and vigour of their bodies: nor doubt I but, when you have stayed a while in Greece, you will be one of those who tumble in the mire, and sand, and will take both pleasure and profit in the exercise.  Anacharsis. 
The Gods forbid, Solon, I bequeath such Recreations of profit to you. Should one of you offer me such affronts, he should feel I wore not a sword in vain. But pray tell me, what do you call these kind of Horse-playes? what name may we give to these pastimes?  Solon. 
That space yonder, Anarcharsis, is called the School of Exercise, and dedicated to Apollo Lycius: whose statue you see leaning to a pillar, holding a bow in the left hand, and sustaining his head with the right, as taking his rest after a long weariness. These exercises, which you see performed in the mire, we call wrestling, as also those in the sand. Those that you see thrust, and beat one another are called Hurlers: we have many other kinds of exercise, as Cuffing, Quoites, and Jumping; wherein we propose games. In any of which the conqueror is held the most Generous, and carries away the prize.  Anacharsis. 
And what are your prizes?  Solon. 
In the Olympic games, we give a Crown of wild Olive; in the Isthmian of Pine; in the Nemean of Parsely; in the Pytihan, the Priests of the God give Apples; wee Athenians give Oil of Olive. Why do you smile Anacharsis, are these Trifles think you?  Anacharsis. 
No, you have reckoned up rewards, Solon, very honourable, and worthy both of their proposers for their magnificence, and of the contenders, who so earnestly strive for them. For Apples, then, and Parsley, they toil, and endanger themselves, thrusting and beating one another: nor, though they should long, may they without much contention eat Apples, or be crowned with Parslye, or Pine; unless they bedaube their faces with mire, or receive kicks in the belly from their Antagonists.  Solon. 
But we, good Sir, do not barely look upon the meanness of the rewards, which are but signs of victory, and marks, whereby to know the Conquerors; who prefer the glory which accompanies them above all things else. And, therefore, they who seek Reputation from their dangers, think it honourable to be kicked. For fame is not purchased without labour; But it behoves him that courts it, to undergo many difficulties at first, and to pursue, and sweeten his end with sufferances, and toils.  Anachar: 
Call you their end, Solon, sweet, and gainful, who are crowned in public Assembly, and extolled for their victory, who just before were pitied for their patience? or can they be happy, who for so much danger, are paid with Apples, and Parsly?  Solon. 
You are still unexperienced in our Customs: ere long you will change your opinion, when you have been once at our Games, and there see a numberless multitude gathered, to the spectacle, the Theatre filled with thousands, the exercisers shouted, and the Conqueror equalled to the Gods.  Anachar: 
This makes their case the more deplorable, Solon, not to suffer such indignities before a few, but before so many spectators, and witnesses of their affronts, who pronounce them not happy till they see them stream with blood, or throttled by their Antagonists. And this you call the felicity of their conquest. But among us Scythians, if any strike a Citizen, or justle him out of the way, or tore his garment, the Elders fine him very deeply, though the injury were offered but in the presence of few, and not in such public Theatres as Isthmus, and Olympia. Nor do I only pity your exercisers for their sufferings, but your spectators; who, you say, being of great quality, resort from all places to the show. For I cannot but wonder that they should neglect their serious affairs, and find leisure for vanities. Nor can I understand how it can be a spectacle of pleasure to them, to see men struck, and beaten, and thrown down, and trampled by one another.  Solon. 
Were this the time, Anacharsis, of our Olympic, or Istmian, or Athenian Games, the things there done would teach you that our studies of them are not vain. For no man by my descriptions can so instill the pleasure of those sights, as when you yourself making one of the spectators, behold men's valour, the goodliness of their persons, their admirable dexterity, prodigious skill, invincible strength, courage, emulation, unavoidable sleights, and indefatigable desire of victory, which I know you would incessantly praise, shout, and clap.  Anarchar: 
By jupiter, Solon, I should incessantly flout, and laugh, to see your whole Catalogue of virtues, bodily force, shape, and courage mis●imploy'd, and spent to no end: when neither your Country is endangered, nor your Coasts invaded, nor your friends injured. For, to me, those whom you call valiant, appear the more ridiculous for their vain sufferings, afflictions, and defacement of their lineaments, and personage with dust; and tramplings, that their victories may be rewarded with Apples, and Pine-leaves. I cannot, therefore, think of such prizes but they are my sport. But tell me, have all excercisers the same reward?  Solon. 
No; He only that conquers.  Anachar: 
Do the rest, then, toil for a doubtful, uncertain victory, knowing there can be but one Conqueror; And that the conquered, who are many, endure all those beat, and wounds to no purpose?  Solon. 
You seem, Anacharsis, to know nothing of a well ordered Commonwealth; otherwise you would not so slightly value the best customs. But whensoever you give your mind to know how the best State is to be governed, and how the best Citizens are to be made, you will then praise those exercises, and emulations so much practised by us, and will discern the commodities mingled with those sweats, though they now seem labours in vain.  Anachars. 
I had no other purpose, Solon, to my journey from Scythia hither, in which I measured much Land, beside the tempestuous Euxine Sea, but to learn the Grecian Laws, and to instruct myself in your customs, and study the best form of Government. Of all the Athenians, therefore, and foreigners, I chose you by your fame for my acquaintance, after I heard you were a giver of Laws, and an inventor of excellent customs, and an introducer of useful institutions, and fashioner of a commonwealth. You cannot therefore, more desire to teach, and to make me your Scholar, than I shall be ready, without eating or drinking, to sit as long as you are able to speak, and greedily attend your Lecture of Laws and States.  Solon. 
To give you a just account in a brief narration were not easy. You shall, therefore, by degrees and steps, know what opinions we hold of the Gods, of our parents, of marriage, and other things; As also what we decree of our young men, and how we breed them, when they they once begin to know what is best; and arrive at such a strength of body as to endure labours. All which I will unfold to you, that you may be instructed, why we set them those Games, and compel them to exercise their bodies; not merely for the Games fake, or the glory of the prize (for few attain to it) but for a far more excellent good, which hereby grows to the whole Commonwealth, and to themselves in particular. For there is a more public prize, and crown proposed to all good Citizens, not made of Pine, or wild Olive, or Parsley, but which comprehends the common happiness of men; namely, the private liberty of every one, and public of the State; besides riches, glory, fruition of solemn Assemblies, security of friends, and whatsoever Blessings else men would ask in their prayers of the Gods. All which are woven into the Garland, I spoke of, and accompany that prize, to which those exercises, and labours lead.  Anachar: 
Why then, most venerable Solon, having rewards of such value, did you tell me of Apples, and Parsley, and boughs of wild Olive, and Pine?  Solon. 
Even these, Anacharsis, will not be of slight consideration to you after you understand what I am about to say. For these have the same purpose, and end, and are but lesser portions of that ample and happy reward, and Garland I mentioned. But my discourse, hath, I know not how, broke order, to begin with things done in the Isthmian, Olympic, and Nemean Games, I, therefore, since my leisure and your patience meet; will draw things from their first principles, and lay for my original that public reward to which all these exercises aspire.  Anachar. 
You shall do well, Solon, if you use no more digressions by the way; And thereby I shall the easier be persuaded not to laugh any more when I see one stalk Majestically crowned with wild Olive, or Parsly. If you please, therefore, let us withdraw into yonder shade, where we may sit undisturbed with the noise of the exercisers. For (not to dissemble) I am impatient of the scorching Sunbeams striking on my bare head, and left my cap at home, that I might not be the only man seen among you in a foreign Habit. Besides, now is the time of the year that the scorching star, which you call the Dog, reigns, and burns all things, and renders the Air sultry and inflamed; The Sun also now at noon, being vertical, casts an insupportable ray on our bodies. So that I wonder, you being an old man, do not, like me sweat, nor appear molested with the heat, nor look about for some cool place to retire to, but patiently brook the season.  Solon. 
Those foolish exercises, Anacharsis, and frequent tumblings in the mire, and open contentions in the Sands do harden, and fortify us against the Sun; nor need we caps to protect our heads from his beams. But let us withdraw. I expect not you should consent or bind your whole faith to every thing I speak as Law, but when you think I speak amiss presently to contradict, and rectify my discourse. For in one of those two I will not fail, either to make you of my opinion, if you meet with nothing to be contradicted, or learn from you how erroneously I have been the author of those customs; For which the whole City of Athens will give you ample thanks. Nor can you more oblige them then by disciplining, and instilling righter opinions into me. which I will not conceal, but will presently make them public, and standing in open Assembly thus bespeak the City. ay, O ye Athenians, have heretofore written Laws, which I thought most necessary for the State, But this stranger (pointing at you, Anacharsis,) being by Country a Scythian, yet a wise man, hath otherwise instructed me, and taught me better principles, and institutions. Let him, therefore, be registered your Benefactor, and erect his brazen statue among the persons most of honour in the City, near Minerva. Hereupon assure yourself, Anacharsis, the Athenians will not be ashamed to be taught better rules by a Barbarian, and a stranger.  Anachars. 
I heard as much before of you Athenians, that you were great scoffers: For how should I, being a rude, wand'ring man, living in a waggon, and travailing from one Country to another, who never inhabited, or till now saw a City, discourse of policy, or teach men borne and bred in an ancient State; where for so many successions they have lived under the best form of government? especially you, Solon, whose study, they say, it hath always been to lay the best foundations of a Commonwealth; and to know under what Laws it would most flourish? 'Tis fit, therefore, your Authority, being a Lawgiver, should sway me. And, therefore, if I oppose you, where you seem not to speak reason, it shall be that I may be the firmlier instructed. See we are now sheltered in this Arbour from the Sun; this cool marble also offers us a pleasant, and seasonable seat. Begin your discourse then, and say, why you breed your children to those hard labours; or how puddles, and exercise can make them gallant men; or how dust, and tumblings in the mire can advance their virtues. This I first desire to know: you shall inform me of other particulars in their place and order. Remember I pray withal in the structure of your narration that you speak to a Barbarian; which I tell you, that you may neither involve, nor prolong your discourse. For I shall be apt to forget the beginning, if your narration be too much lengthened.  Solon. 
Your admonition will be timelier, Anacharsis, when you find me dark in my expressions, or digressing from the purpose. It shall, therefore, be in your power to ask what questions by the way, and to cut off what superfluities, you please. But where I am pertinent, and rove not from the mark, you must give me leave to be copious; and to observe the practice of my Country, allowed of even by the Areopagus, where matters of the highest nature are decided. For in that Court the Judges being entered, and placed, to determine of murders, intended wounds, and conflagrations, Liberty is given both for the accuser, and the accused to speak by turns, either themselves, or by their Advocates, retained to plead for them: who, as long as they speak to the business, are heard with silence of the Senate. But if any shall offer by a preface to render the Judges favourable, or to draw pity, or powerfulness to his cause, (which are the ordinary arts of young Orators) presently a Crier stands forth, and enjoins him silence, and suffers him not to trifle before the Senate, or to colour the business with eloquence, but to present it naked to them. So I do constitute you, Anacharsis, the Areopagite of my present discourse; and give you power to hear me according to the Laws of my Court; and where you find me over Rhetorical to silence me; but where I speak agreeable to the business to suffer me to enlarge myself. For we hold not Dialogue now in the heat of the Sun; And therefore let me not seem tedious, if I prolong my narration, since we are now in the thick shade, and are both vacant.  Anachar: 
You speak reason, Solon, and I give you no small thanks, that by this Digression you have taught me the the passages of the Senate; which, truly, are admirable, and such as befit wise men, who order their suffrages by Justice. Proceed, then; and since you have made me one of your Areopagite Judges, I will hear you like one.  Solon. 
First, then, you are briefly to mark how we define a City, and Citizens. We take not a City for the buildings, such as are the Walls, Temples, and houses: For these are but, as it were, a constant immovable body for the receipt, and safety of the Inhabitants. All Authority is seated in the Citizens; who fill, order, perfect, and preserve the other, as the soul doth every one of us. Upon these considerations we extend our cares, as you may observe to the Body of the City, which we adorn to the utmost show of magnificence, with elegant structures within, and secured with the strongest Rampires, and Fortifications without. But the chiefest part of our providence is, that the Citizens may have virtuous minds, and strong bodies: whereby being enabled for government, they may be mutually useful to themselves in peace, and defend the City, and preserve it free, and happy, in war. Their first education, therefore, we assign to their Mothers, Nurses, and Schoolmasters, to breed them to the Liberal Arts. But when they are grown up to understand what virtue is, and when modesty, bashfulness, reverence, and desire of the best things is implanted in them, and when their bodies, by patient exercises, are confirmed, and strengthened, and brought to a manly consistency, than we teach, and propose to them other knowledges of the mind, and exercises of the body: which we accustom and inure to other labours. For we think it not enough to be borne, as we are, with bodies, and souls; but are to perfect both with Discipline and sciences: by which natural endowments being reduced to order, are much advanced, and defects are beautified, and corrected. We take our patterns from husbandmen, who when their plants are low and tender, cover, and dig about them, to protect them from the wind; But when they are well grown, they cut off the supersfluous boughs, and exposing them to be tossed, and shaken by the winds, render them the more fruitful. The first elements of our children's education are, music, Arithmetic, how to form letters, and exactly to pronounce them. Afterwards, we repeat to them the sayings of wise men, ancient exploits, and useful discourses made illustrious by verse, that they may the better be remembered. They hearing the deeds, and memorable Achievements of famous men, are insensibly inflamed, and provoked to an imitation, that they may be celebrated, and admired by posterity. Of which nature are many things delivered by our Hesiod, and Homer. When they are ripe for government, and are ready to be called to the handling of public Affairs— but this is besides the purpose. For I intended not at first to show how we manured their minds, but why we thus employed, and exercised their bodies. I do, therefore, enjoin myself silence, without the reprehension of a crier, or such an Areopagite as you, who out of modesty, I believe, have all this while heard me trifle beside the purpose.  Anachars: 
Tell me, Solon, why your Areopagus doth not punish those who omit things material, and pass them by in silence?  Solon. 
Pray make me understand why you ask this Question.  Anachars: 
Because you pass over the best things, and which I most desire to hear, Namely the exercises of the soul, and proceed to the less necessary labours and exercises of the body.  Solon. 
Herein I am constant to my first purpose; For should I suffer my discourse to wander from the scope, I should confound your memory by my digressions: yet I will give you as brief a draught as I can of those also. For an exact description of them, would require a particular discourse. First, then, we lay in our children's minds excellent sentences; Afterwards we teach them the Common Laws, which in capital Letters are openly hung up to be read; commanding what is to be done, and what to be avoided; That the company of good men is to be used, from whom they may learn to speak what is fit; to observe justice in an equality of Conversation; not to covet things dishonest, but to desire honest; and not to offer injuries. Now these men are with us styled Sophists, and Philosophers: we bring them, also, into the Theatre, where we publicly teach them by the virtues and vices of former ages presented in Comedies, and Tragoedies, which they are to shun, which to embrace; we give liberty, also, to our Comic Poets to personate, and inveigh against those Citizens, whose lives are infamous, and disgraceful to the Commonwealth; whereupon some grow reform by Libels, and forsake their faults which would hereby fall under the reprehension of the vulgar.  Anachars: 
I understand you, Solon; your Tragedians, and Comedians were those who wore Socks, and Buskins, and were changeably apparelled, and adorned with golden fillets, having on their faces ridiculous, wide gaping vizards; under which they spea● big, and stalk, I know not how, unknown in their ●●skins. At which time, if I err not, you celebrated your feasts of Bacchus Your Comedians were not so exalted, were lower shod, and spoke in a lesser tone, and more like men; only their vizards were more ridiculous, and raised the general Laughter of the Theatre. But those Buskined Actors were heard with a general sadness, out of pity, I suppose, to the weights, and Clogs of their feet.  Solon. 
'Twas not pity to them, Sir; but the Poet, perhaps, represented some ancient, calamitous story, which cast into Tragical language, and action, moved the Tears of the spectators, and hearers. 'Tis likely, also, you saw Fiddlers, and Singers placed together in a Ring; neither are their voices, and cornets, void of profitable use; but by such and the like incitements, we whet, and sharpen, and better our souls. As for our bodies, which you next desire to hear, we thus discipline them, when they are once compact, and past their tenderness; First, by going naked sometimes we expose them to the Air, and so acquaint them with all seasons, as neither to dissolve with heat, or shrink with cold. Next, we anoint and supple them with oil, to make them the more active and pliant. For 'twere unreasonable that dead hides, and Leather softened by Oil, and tanned, should be less capable of ruptures, and last longer, and that we should think such Ointments lost upon animated bodies. Next, we invent exercises of several kinds, to which we assign several Teachers; one for Fencing, another for Wrestling. That, being accustomed to such exercises, we may both know how to defend ourselves from blows, and not shun wounds through Cowardliness. Two great advantages do hence arise; our young men, by not sparing their bodies are made valiant against dangers; and possess a firm consistency of health, and strength. For those that wrestle, do thereby learn to fall safely, and to rise nimbly, to cast off, embrace, toss, strangle, and lift their adversary aloft. These, then, are not exercises to be neglected, whose chief and great end, which they infallibly attain, is, that bodies thus exercised gain higher patiences, and vigour. Their next end, not inferior to the other, is, that hereby our young men may be experienced against the necessities, and Accidents of War. For 'tis clear, that a soldier by his skill in wrestling▪ will more easily overthrow his enemy, or being overthrown rise again himself. All these personated combats, then, we refer to that greater of the War; out of our opinion, that men thus practised are fittest for Arms, whose naked bodies we have first by Ointments, and labours, confirmed, and fortified, and thereby made agile, and dextrous, and offensive to their encounterers. For you may easily imagine what those men would do in Armour, who can naked strike a terror into the enemy; when they see bodies neither overburdened with white unsupportable flesh; nor pineed with leanness, and paleness; like the bodies of Women, which withering in the shade, tremble, and flow with sweat, and pant under a helmet; especially if the Sun, as now it doth, shine hot at Noon. For what service can they be fit, who are impatient of thirst, and dust, and faint at the sight of blood, and expire before they come within shot, or encounter of the enemy? Whereas our men, dying their natural redness by the Sun into a brown, show manly countenances, great Heights of spirit, and flames of valour. Being by the goodness of their composition, neither too gross, nor too thin, nor overclogged with weight, but wrought into a measure by their sweats, by which they evaporate the useless superfluities of their flesh, and retain only that which gives strength and vigour, without mixture of defects. For the like effects which winnowers have upon Corn, have those exercises on our bodies; they blow away the Chaff, and husks, from which they separate the pure grains, and gather them into heaps. Hence comes it, that we are so sound, and so able to endure long Labours; Or that one thus bred, is so hardly provoked to sweat, and so rarely cast into a Distemper: As if one should set fire to Wheat, Straw, and Stubble, (for I return to my former comparison) I suppose the Stubble would presently be consumed, but the Corn would by degrees, without any great pyramids of flame, not at one blaze, but by insensible clouds of smoke after sometime be itself burned; so neither diseases, nor weariness invading a body thus exercised will easily enfeeble, or overcome it; Being so well prepared within, and so impregnably fortified against them without, as, to withstand their entrance and to encounter heats and colds without damage of the person. For by those Laborious exercises, much heat being taken in, and of a long time provided, and laid up, as it were, for necessary use, it administers sudden supplies, and renders the body indefatigable. For these praelabours, and Toils, do not destroy the courage, but increase, and enlarge it by provocation; we breed our young men to races also, and enable them by custom to hold out in long courses, and by their speed, and activity in short. Nor do we allow them to run on firm, equal ground, but in deep sand, where they can neither fix, nor fasten their feet, but are ready to slip at every stride. We teach them, also, if need be, to leap Trenches, and other places of hindrance; which they practise to do with leaden weights in their hands. Sometimes, also, they strive who shall hurl a Spear farthest. You have seen, also, another brazen weight in the place of exercise, round, and made in the figure of a little shield, having neither handle, nor string; which you poised as it lay in the midst, and it felt massy, and hardly to be taken hold of by reason of the smoothness. This they sometimes fling aloft into the Air; sometimes strait forward, striving who shall hurl farthest, and outthrow the rest▪ which kind of exercise doth much strengthen their shoulders, and beget a vigorous spring in their Arms. Hear now, venerable Sir, why they exercise in the mire, and sand, which to you, at first, seemed ridiculous. The first reason is, that they may not be thrown on the hard pavement, but may fall softly without hurt; The next reason is, because their slipperiness by their sweeting in the mire is much increased, which you compared to Eels; but 'tis no matter of contempt, or laughter: For hereby their strength and vigour is not a little perfected, when thus besmeared they are forced to take stronger hold of one another to hinder escapes: For you must not think it easy to hold fast one bemired, sweeting, sleekt with oil, and struggling to slip from your fingers. All which slights do much conduce to war; whither a wounded friend be without impediment to be fetched off, or an enemy taken prisoner to be borne away. Upon these considerations, we exceedingly exercise them, to the most difficult labours, that they may the more dextrously undergo the easier. We practise them in the dust for a contrary reason, that they may not slip from their entwining. For being enured in the puddle to grasp their adversary, for all his sleeknesse, they learn to slip out of his hands themselves when they seem caught: Now dust sprinkled on distilling bodies, drinks up the sweat, and much enables them not to tyre. 'Tis a kind of crust to them too, and protects them from the wind striking on their tender, and naked flesh. Besides, it scours off the filth, and makes the man much cleanlier. Should I, then, bring in presence together one of the delicate pale men, who always live in the shade, and one of those, whomsoever you shall choose, exercised in the Lyceum, and washed from his Dust, and mire, I would ask to which you would choose to be like. I know you would presently at first sight, though unacquainted with the education of either, choose to be strong, and solid, then to be of a broken, and melting constitution, and pale with the poverty, and retirement of your blood to the inward parts. These are the exercises, Anacharsis, to which we breed our young men; whereby, we think, we enable them to defend their country, to secure us in our liberty, and vanquish our invaders, and make us terrible to our neighbours; who for the most part are subject to us, and pay us tribute. In times of peace our use of them is no less excellent, between whom spring no base aemulations. Nor have they leisure to be injurious, but spend their whole time, and employment in these exercises. Now (as I said before) The common good, and highest felicity of a state consists in the best preparation of youth, both for Peace, and War, which is only to be effected by Studies of this excellent Nature.  Anacharsis. 
So then Solon, when you are invaded, you meet your enemies in your Ointments, and dust, and encounter their Armour with your hands, and fists; who in the mean time struck with terror fly from you, fearing, lest if they should gape, you should cast sand into their mouth; or coming behind them should trip up their heels, or twine their legs about their middle, and your Arm about their neck and stifle them? And though they shoot Arrows and hurl Darts at you, yet you, like so many Statues are impenetrable; being tainn'd in the sun, and stored with so much blood. For you are not men of straw, or stubble, to yield at the first onset; but are hardly brought to loose blood, though pierrced with deep and mortal wounds. For so you said, if I mistake not your resemblance. Or, perhaps, when you go out to battle, you Arm yourselves like Comedians, and Tragedians, and put on gaping vizards, that you may appear terrible, and like so many Goblins to your enemies; and wear high buskins, which, if you have occasion to fly, are light; And if you pursue your foes, are unavoidable, bringing you so fast upon them. But consider, I pray, whither these fine slights, and devices, be not frivolous, and childish, and the exercises only of young men, void of better employment, and given to sloth. For if your aim be to be free, and happy, you should prescribe true, and real exercises, and such as are practised in War. Where the Combat is not in jest between Companions, but against enemies; with whom they are to fight, with danger exercising their valour. Laying aside your dust, and your oil, therefore, teach your young men the use of their Bow, and Pike; nor accustom them to slight darts, which are carried away by the wind; but to massy spears, which sing and whistle in their discharge; To stones also which fill their hands. Let them wear also a Sagar on their side, a shield in their left hand, a Breastplate also, and Helmet. For as you now are, you appear to me saved by the favour of some God, who have not all this while perished by the incursion of any slight invaders. For put the case, I unsheathing this short Sword, which I wear at my girdle, should singly set upon all your young men; doubtless I should raise a general shriek, and take the School, or put them to flight, none daring to look back upon my weapon, but standing behind statues, and hiding themselves behind pillars, they would by their tears, and affrigh●ments be the Argument of my laughter. Then should you see their bodies no longer red, as now they are, but they would presently wax pale, and discoloured with fear; For a long peace hath so softened you, that you cannot resolutely endure the sight of one plume in an enemy's Crest.  Solon. 
The Thracians, Anacharsis, Who under the conduct of Eumolphus took Arms against us, spoke not thus, nor your Amazons, who having Hippolyta for their General, made an expedition against our City. Nor others, who have had trials of us in War. For we do not so make our young men exercise naked, as to expose them to dangers unarmed; But when they grow perfect, they afterwards practise in Armour, which by these preparations, they much more easily manage.  Anachars. 
And where is your School where you thus exercise in Armour▪ I have surveyed your whole City and cannot discover it.  Solon. 
When you have conversed longer among us, Anacharsis, you will see every house furnished with Armour, which in times of necessity we use; Crests also, and Caparisons, and Horses, and Horsemen, to the fourth part of the Citizens. To bare Arms, or wear a Sword in time of peace, we hold superfluous; and punish those who needlessly carry a Weapon, or appear armed in public: which in you is pardonable, who spend your whole lives in arms. For dwelling in places unfortified, you cannot but lie open to incursions, and create many Wars; nor are you certain, but that some neighbours may slay you, as you sleep in your Wagons. Besides, your mutual Distrusts, and association together without any common bonds of Law, or Government, makes it necessary for you always, to have your Sword in readiness to prevent injuries.  Anachars. 
Without cause, then, Solon, to wear a Sword, you hold it superfluous; and do favour your Arms, lest with frequent use, they should be worn out: you lay them up, therefore, in your Armouries, and bring them forth only upon occasion. But in the mean time, without any imminent danger you commit the bodies of your young men to mutual beat; who weaken themselves by sweat, not forced by necessity, but vainly spend their courage in the mire and dust.  Solon. 
You seem, Anacharsis, to have the same opinion of courage, as you have of wine, or water, or some such liquid thing, which makes you imagine, that by frequent exercises, it will insensibly leak away, as through some broken vessel, and leave the body empty, and dry, having no spring within to replenish it. But herein you are mistaken. For the more courage is drawn forth by Labours, the more it overflows. Like the fable which you have heard of Hydra: who having one head cut off, was presently supplied with two. 'Tis true, a body originally unpractised, and feeble, and wanting sufficient natural matter, is presently tired, and consumed by exercise, as we see in fire, and Tapers; with the same breath you kindle the one, and in an instant blow it into a greater flame; but extinguish the other, not having competent strength of matter to encounter your blast, or a strong root to sustain itself.  Anacharsis. 
I do not well understand you, Solon; your Similitude is too subtle for me, and requires an exact consideration, and a sharp sighted mind to conceive you. But pray tell me, why in your Olympic, Isthmian, Pythian, and other Games, where, you say, there is such confluence of Spectators to behold your young exercisers, do you not make them contend in Armour; but producing them naked, expose them to kicks, and beat, and then reward the Conquerors with Apples, and Olive boughs? I would fain know the reason of your Custom.  Solon. 
We think, Anacharsis, we hereby more inflame, and animate them to such exercises, when they see the vanquishers honoured, and shouted in a Ring of Grecians; And therefore, they who thus contend naked, are provident of their bodily habit, and blush not to strip themselves; but every one strives to make himself most worthy of victory. Nor are they, as I said before, small rewards to be cried up by the Spectators, and held the most honourable, to be pointed at by passengers, and voiced the most valiant among equals. Many of the beholders, therefore, whose age is not past exercise, depart not a little enamoured with their virtue, and Labours. Should any man, then, banish the thirst of Glory from common life, what mark should we have to our desires, or who would covet to perform any high Action? From hence you may conjecture how they would behave themelves in War, armed for the defence of their Country, Children, Wives, and Temples, who naked for a wreath of wild Olive, or Apples, are inflamed with such a serious desire of victory. How would you be affected, should you see our quail, and Cockfighting, and our solemn studies of them? perhaps, you would laugh; especially if you knew that our Custom were built upon a Law, which commands all of docile Age to be present; and to behold the Fowls contend to their utmost rigour. But 'tis no argument for Laughter. For hereby an insensible contempt of Dangers steals into their souls, who mean not to appear more degenerous, or cowardly, than Cocks. And are hence taught, not to yield to wounds, weariness, or other difficulties whatsoever. Now to make the like trials of them in Arms, and to behold their mutual slaughters, were savage, and inhuman. 'Twere great improvidence also to destroy those valiant men, whose courages would be better employed against an enemy. Because, then, you resolve, Anacharsis, to see other parts of Greece, pray remember when you arrive at Lacedaemon, that you laugh not at them also; nor think them vainly busied, when met together in the Theatre at Ball you see them strike one another: or assembled in a place surrounded with water, and divided into Battalions, naked, as they are, they make a formal War upon one another, till one side, namely the Lycurgians, drive the other, namely the Herculeans out of the Island, or force them backward into the mote, whereupon follows peace, and no man is afterwards struck; especially when you see them whipped at an Altar, and streaming with blood, their Fathers and Mothers standing by, not at all moved with the Spectacle, but threatening them if they shrink under their stripes, and entreating them to hold out to their utmost patience, and to take courage from their sufferings. Hence many die under the scourge, disdaining to faint in the presence of their familiars, as long as they have life, or to favour their bodies. To whose honours you shall see statues publicly erected by the Spartans'. When, therefore, you see this done; think them not mad, or that they thus discipline their Children without just cause, because no Tyrant is feared, or enemy near. For Lycurgus' their founder will give you very good reasons, why he instituted such cruel customs, being neither enemy, nor carried by his hatred, to the unprofitable destruction of the youth of the state, but desirous to render these, who were to defend their Country, stout, and of courage above their sufferings. Or suppose Lycurgus should say nothing, yet you yourself know well, that none such taken in war, did amidst the tortures of the enemy, ever discover any secret of the Spartans; But smiled when they were racked, and strove with their Tormentors who should be first tired.  Anacharsis. 
Was Lycurgus himself, Solon, in his young days bred to the Whip? Or without trials of his own was he only the author of the Discipline?  Solon. 
He was very old before he wrote his Laws, and came thither from Crect: where he had so journed a while, because he heard they had the best Laws, having Minus the Son of jupiter for their Lawgiver.  Anachars. 
Why, then, Solon, do not you imitate Lycurgus, and whip your Children? An education wise, and worthy of you.  Solon. 
Because we hold our own native exercises sufficient; and think foreign imitation below us.  Anachars. 
Or rather because you understand, I suppose, how ridiculous 'tis to be whipped naked, and to supplicate with erected hands; without profit either to him that is whipped, or to the state. If I come to Sparta, therefore, at a time when they discipline, they cannot but forthwith publicly stone me; for I shall laugh to see them scourged like Thiefs, Pilferers, or such like malefactors. For clearly a City accustomed to such ridiculous sufferings, in my Judgement should be purged with Hellebore.  Solon. 
Think not, generous Sir, being alone Orator, and solitary, and no repliers present, you have vanquished▪ you will meet those at Sparta who will give probable satisfaction. Since, then, I have made you a just report of our Customs, which you have entertained with no great approbation; Let me not seem unreasonable if I request a brief report from you, how you Scythians do breed your children, and by what exercises you make them stout and valiant.  Anacharsis. 
'Tis but Justice, Solon. I will, therefore make you a narration of our Scythian Customs; not so glorious perhaps, or grateful to you as your own: for we are not so valiant as to strike one another on the cheek; yet such as they are you shall hear. Till to morrow, then, if you think fit, let us break off our Discourse; that in private I may the better recollect what you have said, and furnish my memory with what I am to say. Here, then, put we a period to this conference, and depart; For the evening cometh on.   

A Discourse of sorrowing for the Dead.  
'TIs worthy the Observation, what many, in their sorrow do, and say; and what is said by those that comfort them; how they account some accidents intolerable, both to those that mourn, and to those that are mourned. When (by Pluto and Proserpina) they not at all understand, whither they be evil, and deplorable, or grateful, and desirable to the sufferers; but make fashion and custom, the rule of their grief. For when any body dies, this is their manner. But first, I will tell you what opinions they hold of Death. Whereby it shall appear upon what grounds they are thus superfluous. The greater part of people, whom the wise call Idiots, building their faith upon Homer, Hesiod, and other Fablers, and making their Poetry their Law, imagine a certain deep place, or hell under ground, large, spacious, dark, and sunlesse; yet so lightsome in appearance, as to represent to them every thing there. In this vault (as one of them told me the story) reigns jupiters' brother, called Pluto; honoured with that stile from the store of Ghosts wherewith he is enriched; whose form of Commonwealth, and the life of souls infernal is thus ordered. It fell to him by Division, and Lot, to rule over the Dead▪ which, as he receives, he binds in unavoidable Chains; and permits none to return, but some few once in an Age, upon weighty reasons. Through his Country run Rivers, great, and terrible from their very Names, called Cocytus, and Phlegeton, and the like. And what is yet worse, the entrance to it is the Lake of Acheron: which first receives all Comers, and is not to be passed, or sailed over without a Ferryman; being for depth not to be waded, and for breadth not to be swum over. In a word, the Ghosts of Fowls departed cannot fly over it. In the Descent, seated in a Gate of Adamant, sits Aeacus, the King's Cousin German, who commands the passage. Near him lieth a dog with three heads, of great fierceness; who on Arrivers casts a gentle, and peaceful eye; but barks at those who endeavour to escape, and frights them back into their Dungeon. Those that are wafted over the Lake are received into a spacious meadow, set with daffodils; through which glides a stream enemy to remembrance, and for that reason called Lethe. For these are the relations of them, who have anciently returned from thence; Alcestis, and Protesilaus, two Thessalonians; Theseus also, the Son of Aegeus▪ and Homer's Ulysseses; very reverend and credible witnesses: who surely drunk not of the forgetful Spring, for than they had not remembered such descriptions. Pluto, then, and Proserpina, as they report, reign there, and have the whole Dominion of the place. Though they have many Attendants, and Ministers of state, as Furies, Punishments, Horrors, and Mercury, (who is not constantly resident) under-rulers also, and Peers, & two Judges, Minos, and Rhadamanthus, both of Crect, and Sons of jupiter. Who when a Competent number of good men, & just, who have lived a life of virtue, are arrived, send them like a Colony into the Elysian fields, there to live a life of felicity. But wicked men they deliver to the Furies, to be conveyed to the region of Malefactors, there to be punished according to their offences. In which place what miseries do they not suffer? tortured and burnt, and gnawn by Vultures, and tossed upon wheels, and forced to roll relapsing stones against steep hills. Tantalus stands in a Lake, yet is wretchedly in danger to die with thirst. Others of a middle kind of life (of which there are store) wander in a meadow without bodies, being mere shades, which touched vanish like smoke. These are nourished by our sacrifices, and oblations poured on their graves. So that he who hath no friend, or Allye left on earth, wanders among them famished, and starved. These dreams have made such strong impressions in some, that when one of their friends dies, first they put a fare in his mouth, which he is to give the Ferryman for his wafrage. And do not first consider whether the money be currant, and will pass below; or whether with Ghosts, an Attic, or Macedonian, or Aegina coin bear most value; or whether it were not much better to have no fare at all to give. For so being refused by the Ferryman, he may be sent back, and return to life again. After this, they wash him, (as if the Infernal marish were not B●th enough for those that come thither) and embalm his body with rich ointments, for the expulsion of ill smells; then crowning him with Orient flowers, they lay him out gloriously apparelled; lest, perhaps he should take cold by the way, or be seen naked of Cerberus; Then follow the howl of women, tears of acquaintance, percussion of breasts, tearing of hair, cheeks bloudyed, garments rend, and heads sprinkled with dust. So that the living are more to be pitied then the dead. For they many times roll themselves on the floor, and dash their heads against the ground, whilst the other, adorned and trimmed, and gloriously crowned, lies aloft, and sublimed, like one dressed for a triumph. Lastly, his mother, and father, surrounded with their kindred, go before him, to whom turning sometimes (you must imagine him to be some gallant young man, for the greater solemnity of the play) they utter abortive, senseless sounds, to which the dead party would make answer, were he able to speak. For his father, drawing out every word with interruptions, and sighs, thus bespeaks him. My dear son, thou art lost, dead, and before thy time snatched from me; leaving me alone, solitary wretch: Thou waste neither married, nor hadst children, not practised to the Camp, or plough, or arrived to thy old age; never more, my child, shalt thou feast, be amorous, or drunk again with thy companions. Such and the like complaints he powers forth, out of an opinion that his son after death needs, and desires such things, but is denied the fruition. But why mention I such trifles? How many are there, who at such funerals do sacrifice his horses, concubines, and butler's, and burn, and bury his robes, and clothes of ornament, with the deceased party, as if he were to use, or enjoy them below? Now the old man, who thus laments, speaks not this, and much more, nor is thus tragical with reflection on his son, (For he knows he cannot hear him, though he should cry as loud as Stentor) or on himself, for then his bare inward thought, and contemplation, were sufficient without a voice. For no man needs to be clamorous to himself. It remains, then, that he acts this distemper for the spectators sakes, since he neither knows what hath befallen his son, nor where he is, nor well examined the course and state of his life. For, then, he could not reckon his departure hence among calamities. Well, therefore, might his son, having obtained leave of Aeacus, and hell, to raise his head a while out from his dungeon, for the quieting of his distracted father, say thus to him, Forlorn man, what mean thy clamours? Why dost thou trouble me? cease to tear thy hair, and to rend thy face. Why art thou so injurious to call me miserable, and unfortunate, who am much better, and happier than thou? Is it, thinkest thou, any calamity to me, that I am not arrived at thy decrepit age, or have not a bald head, wrinkled face, crumped back, and slack knees, or am not withered, and decayed by so many Triacades, and Olympiades' of time, or betray not my follies before so many witnesses? Fond man, What canst thou call desirable in life, which we shall not afterwards enjoy? perchance thou wilt say delicious potations, feasts, rich garments, and the pleasures of Venus; whose denials thou fearest are my misfortunes. Dost thou not understand how much better 'tis not to thirst, then to drink? or not to be hungry, then to eat? or not to be cold, then richly clothed? Since, then, I perceive thee ignorant, I will truly teach thee how to grieve. Begin thy Lamentations again, and say, My wretched child, never more shalt thou thirst, never more shalt thou hunger, never more shalt thou freeze. Thou art lost, unhappy boy, and hast escaped diseases, needest not hereafter fear fevers, enemies, or Tyrants: Love shall no more torment, nor venery tempt thee; nor shalt thou twice or thrice a day consume thyself. O calamity! Thou shalt not be scorned, when thou art old, nor thy sight be thought troublesome to young men. Shouldest thou, O my father, say thus, would not these complaints seem much truer, and more ridiculous than the other? Be not, therefore, troubled at the consideration of our night, and great darkness; nor imagine me stifled when I am shut up in my tomb. But think rather, that my eyes being perished, and burned (if yet you have burnt me) need neither darkness, nor light to see by. But suppose your own private complaints reasonable, how am I bettered by your howl, or by so many breasts, as it were musically struck, or by the immoderate Lamentations of so many women? why do you lay a stone strewed with Garlands on my grave? or to what end do you pour wine upon me? Do you think 'twill distil to us, and soak through to Hell? As for your funeral sacrifices, you yourselves, I suppose, plainly see that the most precious part, which is intended for us, is carried up in smoke to heaven, and profits not us below. Nothing remains but dust altogether unuseful, unless you think we can eat Ashes. Pluto's Kingdom is not so barren, or unfruitful, nor are we so void of Daffodils, as to translate your meals hither. I swear, therefore, by Tisiphone, I have had a longing desire to exclaim against your Actions, and speeches, but was hindered by the winding sheet, and wool wherewith you stopped my utterance: He made an end, and then death closed his eyes. But for Jove's sake tell me▪ should one departed return, and leaning on his elbow speak thus, would you not think he spoke reason? yet these senseless people do both howl themselves, and hire some Sophister, whose trade is lamentation; who mustering up many old calamities, is employed as the leader, and captain of the frantic solemnity; and where he begins, they follow, and make up the ridiculous consort. Their lamentations have all one manner of folly; But several Nations have several manners of funeral. The greeks burn their dead; the Persians bury them; the Indians anoint them with Lard; the Scythians eat them; the Egyptians salt and powder them: where I have seen a dead body well dried, and seasoned set at meal, and made a guest. Nor is it unusual with an Egyptian, when he lacks money to supply his wants, to pawn his father, or brother for a time. For as for tombs, Pyramids, Pillars, and fading Epitaphs, are they not superfluous, and childish? Others ordain funeral Games, and make Orations at Sepulchers. As if they pleaded, or gave testimonials of their dead friends to the infernal Judges. After all comes in the funeral supper; to which are invited the deceased persons friends, who comfort his parents, and persuade them to eat. To which they are not unwillingly compelled, having felt the famine of three days before. How long, say they, will you bewail your dear loss? Trouble not his happy Ghost any longer with your complaints. Or if you be obstinately resolved to mourn, you are therefore not to starve yourself, that you may be able to hold out with the greatness of your sorrow. Then for a Conclusion, they all repeat these two verses of Homer; 
For bright haired Niobe remembered meat:   
And, 
The Hungry greeks banished their cares with meat.   
Whereupon they fall to; but bashfully at first, out of their fear, after the death of their dearest friends, to betray any humane disturbance. Many things more ridiculous than these may he observe, who marks what is done at mournings, since most people think death the greatest of evils.   

Hercules of Gaul, or a Discourse of Eloquence.  
THe Gauls in their Language call Hercules Ogmius, and paint the God in a strange figure; extremely old, and decrepit, bald before, his hair, which remains, white, his skin wrinkled, and burnt into a deep tawny, like aged sailors: you would take him for Charon, or some Infernal japetus; and would guess him to be any thing sooner than Hercules. Yet in this unlikely shape he wears the ensigns of Hercules; a Lion's skin about his shoulders, A massy club in his right hand; a quiver at his back, and a bend bow in his left hand, like an outright Hercules. I thought at first they had drawn him thus preposterous out of contempt of the Grecian Gods; and by this uncouth picture meant to take revenge of him, for his ancient entrance into their Country, and the prey's he took, when in search of Geryons herds, he overran many western Nations. But I have not yet told you the greatest paradox of the picture. This aged Hercules draws a vast multitude of people tied by the ears with chains, which are slender wires, made of gold, and amber, like to our most orient bracelets. Yet though they be captived by such feeble threads, they neither labour to escape, though they easily might, nor offer to make resistance, nor hang back, or struggle with their leader, but follow him with pleased, cheerful, and applauding countenances; all striving to make haste, and slacking the cords out of their desire of prevention, and expressing some unwillingness to be released. It shall not be troublesome to me to describe to you what to me seemed most absurd. The painter, wanting a place where to fasten the ends of his wires, having filled his right hand with a club, his left with a bow, bored a hole through the tip of his tongue, at which he drew them linked▪ the God turning himself, and smiling on them. Lord stood I fixed in the contemplation, wonder, doubt, and indignation of the piece. till a certain Gaul, who stood near me, not ignorant of our learning, as he well showed by his exact pronunciation of Greek, whereby I took him to be some Philosopher of that Country, said, Stranger, I will unriddle the picture to you; for it seems to have cast you into a deep astonishment. We Gauls do not, like you Grecians, ascribe eloquence to Mercury, but to Hercules; who was much the stronger. Nor let it be your wonder that you see him painted old, since eloquence of all things else shows its power most in age. If your Poets say true: that, 
In younger minds do mists and clouds arise,  
But the discourses of old age are wise.  Thus honey was said to drop from your Nestor's tongue; and the Trojan Orators to utter fragrant flowers; that is, if I mistake not, to speak in a musical voice. Nor are you to marvel that this old Hercules, the emblem of eloquence, draws men tied by the ears to his tongue, knowing the near Alliance between them. Nor ought it to be his reproach, that you see his tongue bored; for I have learned, said he, from your Comedies, which I yet remember; 
That men, in speaking versed,  
Have tongues boreed through, and pierced.   
Briefly, we hold that Hercules performed all his labours by Rhetoric; and being a wise man, subdued Countries merely by his persuasions: whose darts were sharp, well aimed, quick speeches, which pierced the hearers' souls, such speeches as you call winged. Thus said the Gaul. Whereupon I walking off, considered with myself, whether it would become a man of my years, who had long since abandoned the profession, again to submit myself to the judgement of so many censurers: when opportunely the remembrance of the picture gave me encouragement. For till then I was jealous, lest you should think my course of life childish, and too youthful for my Age; or lest some Schoolboy should apply that piece of Homer to me, and say, 
Thy strength is vanished, Age ●ath made thee snow,  
Thy servants spent, thy horses are grown slow,  Alluding by that scoff to my feet. But as often as I remember the old Hercules, I am prepared for any employment; nor blush at my profession, though I be as antique as the picture. Fare well, then, my strength, activity, shape, and all other goods of the body. And let Cupid, if he please, seeing me with this white chin, fly by me with his glittering wings, more swift than Eagles. It shall not trouble Hippoclides. For now is the time for me to grow young, and vigorous again, and to flourish in elocution, and to draw as many by the ears, and aim as many darts as 'tis possible; since I am fearless that thereby my quiver will be exhausted. You see the refreshments of my old age; who thus adventure to launch forth my ship which hath laid long in the Dock; and to commit her once more rigged to the mercy of the sea. Swell my sails prosperously, O ye Gods, who have so much need of friendly & auspicious winds. Which if you vouchsafe me, let another apply that other piece of Homer to me, 
See what strong nerves look through his aged rags.    

The Ship, or, a Discourse of Wishes.  The Speakers, Lycinus, Timolaus, Samippus, and Adimantus. Lycinus. 
DId I not say a corrupted carcase cast out would sooner scape Vultures, than a strange sight Timolaus, though he were to run himself breathless to Corinth? How came you to be such a lover of shows, and so indefatigably inflamed with them?  Timolaus. 
How should I employ my leisure, Lycinus, when I heard of a great ship, beyond the ordinary burden, landed in our port; especially one of those Carickes which transporters Corn from Egypt into Italy? I believe you and Samippus had no other motive for your coming hither, but the spectacle.  Lycinus. 
Adimantus the Myrrhinusian came with us too, but is lost in the Crowd of spectators, I know not how. He accompanied us to the ship, & ascended with us. for if I mistake not, you Samippus went before, Adimantus followed you, and him, holding him with both my hands, Till he barefoot guided me shodde up the ladder, and then I saw him no more either in the ship, or below after our descent.  Samippus. 
Do you not remember, Lycinus, that he left us when the handsome boy arrayed in pure white, whose hair equally divided on his forehead was tied behind, came forth of the cabin? If I know Adimantus well, at sight of the fair spectacle he bid farewell to the Egyptian Shipwright, who showed us the Rooms, and after his old fashion stood still, and wept: for his amorous nature makes him very prone to tears.  Lycinus. 
Methought, Samippus, the boy was not so ravishingly handsome, as to cast Adimantus into an astonishment; who is courted at Athens by so many young men, beautiful, nobly borne, fluent of speech, practised in Games, and to whom tears are no disparagement. For besides the swarthiness of his complexion, he had prominent lips, small legs, a loose, continued, running speech, which was Greek, indeed, but pronounced after the manner of his Country, in an ill sound, and Tone. His hair, and locks woven behind, showed him to be a slave.  Timolaus. 
Their hair, Lycinus, is a sign of nobility among the Egyptians, which all men's children of Quality wear braided, till their age of maturity. So our Ancestors of Pallene, when old, cherished long hair, which they wound up in a call, stuck with golden Grasshoppers.  Samippus. 
You do well, Timolaus, to bring to our remembrance the writings of Thucydides, who in his Preface to his jonians, when with others they were transplanted into Colonies, speaks of our ancient luxury.  Timolaus. 
I now remember, Samippus, Adimantus left us when we stood so long by the mast, numbering the hides laid in heaps, and admiring the sailors running up the Tackling, and down again, safely holding by the sail yard.  Samippus. 
You say true, what then shall we do, stay here, and expect him? or shall I go back again to the ship?  Timolaus 
Rather let us go on. For 'tis likely he is passed by, and returned into the City after he could not find us. If he be not, he knows the way; nor if we leave him behind is there danger of his loss.  Lycinus. 
But consider whether we may with civility depart and leave our friend; yet if you like the motion, Samippus, let us go on.  Samippus. 
You have my consent, if the School of exercise be yet open. But among other Discourses, do you remember what large Descriptions the wright made of his ship? which he said was an hundred and twenty Cubits in length, the fourth part of that in breadth; from the Deck to the lowest Bottom, where the pump stands, twenty nine cubitts. He told us also the length of the mast, the greatness of the yard it bore, and the vastness of the cable whereto 'twas fastened. How the Stern rising in an insensible bent had a golden goose for an ensign, and the forcastle equally promiment, and standing out at the other end bore on each side the Goddess Isis; who gave name to the Carrack. The other trim, pictures, flame coloured sails, Anchors, Capstalls, Rudders, and Cabins next the Stern, much provoked my admiration. Then the multitude of sailors, which might be compared to an Army. Then 'twas said to carry as much corn as would serve all the Inhabitants of Attica a year for food. And all this prodigious bulk is ruled by a little dwarfish old man, who steers and wields it with a slender pole. One showed him to me, a bald curled fellow, his name is Heron.  Timolaus. 
A rare man in his Art, as they report who sailed with him, and a better seaman than Proteus. You have heard by what accident the ship was driven hither, what they suffered in passage, and how they were preserved by a star.  Lycinus. 
We have not, Timolaus, but would gladly hear.  Timolaus. 
I had the relation from the Master, a courteous man, and of civil behaviour, who told me that after they had hoist sails from Pharos, they were with easy gales in seven days brought in sight of Acamas, at what time they were crossed with a west wound, which carried them as far as Sidon. From whence in great tempest they were driven in ten days through those straits upon the Chelidonian Lands, where they almost suffered wrack. I know by my own experience, and presage by those Lands the roughness of that Coast, especially made tempestuous by the South, and South west winds. For there the Pamphilian Sea dividing from the Lycian, and the floods meeting several ways, and breaking themselves against the Promontory, which consists of sharp, broken rocks, made craggy by the waves, svvell into terrible billows, which make a dismal roar, and rise sometimes above the height of their steep rocks. Hither, he said, they were driven in a dark night. At length the Gods, compassionate to their cries, revealed a fire to them from Lycia, by which they known the place. For a star, one of the twins, sat upon their topsail, and by a left hand course directed the vessel again into the Sea, just ready to dash against the steep cliff. From thence, having once strayed from their right course, sailing through the Arches, the seventieth day after their departure from Egypt, by Easterly side winds they were yesterday driven into the Pyraeum; and cast thus low: who, had they left Crect on the right hand, and sailed above Malea, had by this time been in Italy.  Lycinus. 
By jupiter, Heron showed himself a most admirable pilot, and equal to Nereus, to wander thus from his course. But see, is not that Adimantus?  Timolaus. 
'Tis he. Le's call him. Adimantus, you Myrrhynusian, Strobichus son.  Lycinus. 
He is one of the two, either angry with us, or deaf. It can be no other but Adimantus. I know him by his clothes, and gate, and close notching: le's swiften our pace, and overtake him. If we had not taken hold of your cloak, and stopped you, Adimantus, you would never have heard us: you seem to be in a contemplation, and dump, and carry some magnificent design in your countenance.  Adimantus. 
'Tis not dangerous, Lycinus, but a certain unusual contemplation, which seized on me by the way, and made me not hear you, whilst my sense was called away by my consideration.  Lycinus. 
What was it? fear not to acquaint us; unless it be such a secret, as is not to be uttered. You know we are sworn friends, and have learned to conceal.  Adimantus. 
I shall blush to tell you; so childish will my thoughts appear to you.  Lycinus. 
Is love their object? you may safely admit us to your mysteries, who are initiated with the same bright Taper.  Adimantus. 
No such matter, Sir, But I was shaping to myself great fortunes, which others, perhaps, style empty happiness; and when I was in the height of my wealth, and pleasures you awoke me.  Lycinus. 
According to the common proverb, then, we are to cry half Mercury, or Booty, and you are to produce your riches: For 'tis but Justice that we who are your friends should share in your felicity.  Adimantus. 
Assoon then, as we were ascended the ship, & I had safely got you up, Lycinus, you all forsook me, and left me measuring the greatness of the Anchor; I nevertheless took a survey of all things, and asked one of the Mariners, what revenue the ship might one year with another bring the master of it: who said in the least computation twelve Attic Talents. At my return, therefore, I thus discoursed with myself. Would some God make this ship mine, how happy should I be? being enabled to oblige my friends, to sail sometimes myself, sometimes to send forth my servants? with the twelve Talents would I build a Palace of the best situation, a little beyond the painted palace by Ilissus, and forsake my father's house; I would buy servants also, rich apparel, coaches, and horses. In this speculation meethought I sailed, was proclaimed happy by those in the ship, reverenced by the sailors, and almost thought a Prince; when as I was setting things in order in the ship, and beholding the port a far off, you, Lycinus, Wracked my whole treasure, and overwhelmed my Burke, carried by the prosperous gales of my Imagination and wishes.  Lycinus. 
You were best carry me, therefore, before the Admiral, for a pirate, or Drowne●, or one that hath committed a Land wrack in the way between the Haven and the City. In the mean time see how I will comfort you for your losses. Fain to yourself the possession, if you please, of five ships, fairer and greater than the Egyptian, and, which is yet more, impossible to be wracked; Let them yearly make five returns, and voyages from Egypt with wheat, you plainly show fortunate, Sir, how insolent your behaviour would be. Who being but the Master of one Imaginary ship you refused to hear us, when we cried after you; if you had five such weather proof, you would not, I believe, vouchsafe to look upon your friends. Proceed you then, wealthy Sir, in your navigation: we will sit in the port, and ask those who sail from Egypt, or Italy, if they saw the Isis, Adimantus great ship.  Adimantus. 
See now whether my fear to reveal my thoughts were not reasonable; knowing you would convert my wishes to derision, and Satire: whilst you go back▪ therefore, I will stay here in my ship, and proceed in my navigation; for 'tis much better to converse with sailors, then to endure your flouts.  Lycinus. 
It must not be; we will ship ourselves with you.  Adimantus. 
I'll ascend first, and draw up the ladder.  Lycinus. 
We will swim after. For you must not think to enjoy great carracks, which you neither bought, nor built, and that we cannot also petition the Gods to enable us to swim many leagues untired. When not long since we rowed over to Aegina in a small boat, and gave groats a piece for our fare, you disdained not our company in the passage; yet now you scorn to admit us, and threaten to draw up the ladder: you are grown haughty, Adimantus, and have forgot yourself; nor know what Master of a ship you are, but are exalted with your palace built in the most eminent place of the City, and with the multitude of your followers. For Isis' sake, therefore, at your next return from Egypt, remember to bring us some fine Nile pickles, or perfumes from Canopus, or an Ibis from Memphis, or, if your ship be able, one of the Pyramids.  Timolaus. 
Enough, Lycinus, you have made Adimantus blush, and have overwhelmed his ship with laughter, which begins to leak, and can no longer hold out water. Since than there is a good space to the City, let us divide the way into four parts, and assigning every man his reach, let us severally put up our wishes to the Gods. So shall we not perceive the tediousness of the walk, but recreate ourselves like men fallen into a pleasant dream, which shall make us as happy as we please. For it shall be in every man's power to put measure to his wish; since the Gods are able to accomplish things in their own nature incredible. The thing most considerable herein will be the discovery how every man will employ his riches, and wish, and how he will alter with his fortunes.  Samippus. 
I obey your fair proposal, Timolaus, and will in my turn wish as I think fit. Adimantus consent, I believe, is not to be asked, who hath one foot in his ship already, and Lycinus cannot refuse.  Lycinus. 
Make we, then, our wishes, if you please. I will not hinder the common fortune.  Adimantus. 
Who shall begin?  Lycinus. 
You Adimantus, and next to you Samippus, than Timolaus. I will begin my wish a little before we arrive at Dipylum, at our entrance upon the last half furlong, which I will briefly run over.  Adimantus. 
ay, then, will not forsake my ship; but, if you please, will amplify my wish, and be Mercury the God of Gain, propitious to us all. I would have the ship, then, and all things in it, the Merchandise, Merchants, women, sailors, and whatsoever else is of desirable possession, mine.  Samippus. 
You forget one thing in the ship.  Adimantus. 
You mean the long haired boy, Samippus; I would have him mine too. Next, I desire that all the Grains of Corn there might be minted into gold coin, and made so many Darickes.  Lycinus. 
'Twould sink your ship, Adimantus. For Wheat, and Gold are not of equal weight.  Adimantus. 
Be not envious, Lycinus. But when 'tis your turn to wish, transform, if you please, the mountain Parnes into gold, I'll not repine.  Lycinus. 
I only spoke with reflection on your safety; lest you should all perish with your gold; which were no great loss. But your handsome boy, unable to swim, would be shipvvrackt too.  Timolaus. 
Fear not Lycinus, some Dolphin would convey him on his back to shore. For can you imagine a musician so preserved, in recompense of his harmony, or a dead youth transported by a Dolphin to Isthmus, and yet Adimantus new servant to want an amorous fish?  Adimantus. 
You have learned from Lycinus, Timolaus, to mock me; though you be the Author of the proposal.  Timolaus. 
Wish more reasonably, then. As to find treasure under your bed, whose conveyance from the ship to the City might put you to no trouble.  Adimantus. 
You say well. I would have digged up from under the stone Mercury in my hall as much wealth as should arise to a thousand baskets of minted gold. Then (as Hesiod prescribes) would I presently have variety of magnificent Palaces, and buy all the Countries about the City, Isthmus also, Delphos, and Eleusine, all the Sea coast, and regions bordering upon Isthmus; which should be for my places of game, when I made my progress into those parts, and to the plains of Sicyonia. Briefly, all the well wooded, watered, and fruitful places of Greece should in short time be mine. The dishes wherein I eat should be of massy gold; my bowls not slight, like those of Echechrates, but should severally weigh two talents.  Lycinus. 
How then should your Cupbearer deliver to you such heavy Bowls filled? or how could you receive from him, not a Cup, but a weight equal to that of Sisyphus?  Adimantus. 
Good Sir, disturb not my wish. I will have Tables, Beds, and, if you talk, waiters of gold.  Lycinus. 
Take heed, lest, like Midas, your bread and wine become Gold, and lest you miserably perish by your Treasure, and die of a wealthy hunger.  Adimantus. 
Order your wishes better, Lycinus, when when it comes to your course to ask. I would to all this, have purple Robes, most delicate fare, sleeps of pleasure; be saluted, and petitioned by my friends, reverenced & adored of all: some should every morning early walk up and down before my door, among which I would especially have Cleaenetus, and Democrates. At whose approaches, and offers to enter, seven barbarous, biggboned porters should clap the Gate in their face, as they do now to others. When I pleased to submit myself, like the Sun to be seen, upon some I would not vouchsafe to dart a look. But to a poor man, or such a one as I was before, be affable, bid him wash, and come to supper. Rich men should hang themselves when they saw my Chariotts, Horses, beautiful Pages, to the number of two thousand, fairliest chosen out of all ages. Then my meals served in gold plate, (for Silver is base and below me) my sauces, and oils from Spain, my wines from Italy; my honey native, and untried; my provision, as pigs, hares, and variety of fowls, from all places; my Pheasants from Colchis, Peacocks from India, Turkeys from Numidia. Then, my purveyors of all those should be Sophisters, well studied in Luxury and Sauces. When I take the bowl to drink to any body, He who pledged me should bear away the Cup. They who are now rich, compared to me should be so many Irus', and beggars. Dionicus should no more in ostentation show his silver Dishes, and Goblets, seeing my Grooms employ as much silver in daily use. My expenses upon the City should be these. Upon a Citizen I would monthly bestow an hundred Drachmas; upon a Sojourner fifty: for the public ornament I would build theatres, and Baths; and bring the Sea as far as Dipylum, where I would make a Haven, and to which I would cut a passage large enough for my ship to sail in, and to be seen from the Keramicke. As for you, my friends, I would command My Steward to measure to Samippus twenty bushels of stamped gold. To Timolaus five pecks. To Lycinus one, and that strike't, because he is a talker, and flouts my wishes. And this is the life I would lead; I would be above measure rich, live delicately, and enjoy pleasures of all sorts. I have said: Mercury accomplish my desires.  Lycinus. 
Do you know, Adimantus, by what a slender web your God of riches hangs; which if once broken all your great fortunes will vanish, and your treasures will be transformed into coals?  Adimantus. 
How mean you, Lycinus?  Lycinus. 
That 'tis doubtful how long you shall enjoy your wealth. For who knows when you sit down at your golden table; but that while you stretch out your hand to taste your Numidian Peacock, or Turkey, you may breathe out your wretched soul, and leave all your richeses to Vultures, and Ravens? Shall I reckon to you some dead before they could possess their wealth? others impoverished alive by some God that envied their estate? Have you not heard how Croesus, and Polycrates, who were much richer than you, fell in an instant from their great wealth? But to omit those, can you think yourself of a constant and an eternal health? See you not how many rich men are miserably tortured with diseases, and pains? some not able to go; others blind, or vexed with secret stitches within? Should you be silent, yet I know you would not accept your wish doubled, and feel rich Phanomachus cramps, or be so womanish as he. I forbear to reckon the Ambushes, and treasons laid for your wealth, besides the danger of thiefs, and slaughters, and hatred of the multitude. Do you yet perceive of what mischiefs your Treasure is the cause?  Adimantus. 
Still you are my opposer, Lycinus. I will, therefore recall my peck of gold, since you thus thwart my wishes.  Lycinus. 
You do like most rich men, to revoke your promise. Propose you your wish, Samippus.  Samippus. 
I being an Arcadian, In land man of Mantinaea, as you know, desire not a ship, which to show to my Countrymen were impossible. Nor will I draw down the Gods to such poor petitions, as to ask a certain measure of Treasure, or Gold, since all things, even those which seem most difficult, are possible to them, and since the Law made by Timolaus gives power to ask all things of them, who will deny nothing; my wish is to be a King. Not such a one as was Alexander, the son of Philippe, or Ptolemy, or Mithridates, or one that reigns in a kingdom left him by his father. But I would begin my Empire from robbery; in which course I would have some thirty faithful, resolute companions, and associates. Shortly after should come in to us successively three hundred, than a thousand, not long after ten thousand, till at last we made up an Army of fif●y thousand foot, beside five thousand horse. Then would I by common suffrage be preferred, and chosen General, as fittest to lead men, and manage affairs. That it might be my excellency above other Kings to be preferred for my virtue, to rule an army; and conquer, not succeed in an hereditary Kingdom. For that were a felicity like Adimantus Treasure; and would carry much less satisfaction, then to be the author, and contriver of my own greatness.  Lycinus. 
You have asked no trifle, Samippus, but the height of felicity, in wishing to govern such an Army, and to be held the worthiest of fifty thousand. I thought Mantinaea could not have bred such an admirable Prince, and Captain. But proceed in your Empire, and lead on your Soldiers, and set your Horse and Foot Troops in Array. I would fain know whether such numerous Regiments march out of Arcadia, or against what miserable people you intent your first expedition.  Samippus. 
I would tell you, Lycinus, did I not rather desire you would march with us. I will make you Colonel of five thousand Horse.  Lycinus. 
I thank you for the honour, most mighty Prince, and, after the Persian manner, do prostrately adore you with my hands behind me, and do reverence your erected Tiara, and Crown. But desire you to cast the Employment on some man more valiant. For I am utterly unskiled in riding, and till this day never backed horse. Nor can I but fear, lest at sound of the Trumpeter, falling off, I should be trampled in the tumult; or left, if my cour●er be fiery, taking the bridle between his teeth, he should carry me into the midst of the enemy: so that to sit him, & rain him in, 'twill be necessary I be locked to the saddle.  Adimantus. 
Let me, then, Samippus, lead your horse Troops, and let Lycinus command your right wing of Foot. For I deserve the highest employment from you, to whom I gave so many bushels of gold coined.  Samippus. 
Let us first ask the Horsemen, Adimantus, whether they will accept you for their Commander. Fellow-soldiers, let them who approve Adimantus for their Colonel hold up their hand. You have their general consent, Adimantus. Be you, then, over the Horse, Lycinus over the right wing, Timolaus shall command the left. I will keep in the midst, after the manner of the Persian Kings, when they intent to assemble their Counselors. Make we, then, our first march over the mountains to Corinth, and King jupiter assist us. After we have subdued all the parts of Greece (for none will dare to oppose their Arms against such numerous forces, but we shall conquer without toil) let us ship our Men and Horse, (Store of victuals, and shipping, and all things else lie prepared at Cenchrea) and let us sail through the Arches into jonia. And having there Sacrificed to Diana, and taken their undefended Cities, and placed Governors in them, let us march into Syria, through Caria, Lyci●● Pamphylia, the Pisidians, and the Maritime and mountainous parts of Cilicia, till we come to Euphrates.  Lycinus. 
If please you, Invincible Prince, leave me Perfect of Greece. For I am timorous, and would not willingly go far from home, for I perceive you mean to invade the Armenians, and Parthians too, Nations warlike, and skilful Archers. Bestow your right wing, therefore, on some other, and make me some Antipater of Greece, lest leading your regiment to Susa and Bactra, I be slain with a Dart, or run through in some place where I am disarmed.  Samippus. 
You put yourself out of the roll, like a Coward, Lycinus, and by the Law are to lose your head for breaking order. Since, then, we are now at Euphrates, and the river hath a bridge; and the Countries behind us, which we have passed through, are secured, and have accepted Governors of my Imposition upon them severally; since also some of our Troops are dispatched to the conquest of Phoenicia, Palestine, and Egypt, pass you over first, Lycinus, with your wing, I'll follow, next after me Timolaus, do you Adimantus in the rear convey over your horse forces. You see through our whole march through Mesopotamia, we have met with no enemy, but the Inhabitants have voluntarily surrendered both themselves and their forts We no sooner approach Babylon, but are unexpectedly received within the walls, and put in possession of the City; the King making his Rendezvous at Cresiphon hath heard of our Incursion; passing on from thence unto Seleucia, he enlarges his preparations, and presseth more Horsemen, Archers, and Slingers. Our Spies compute him about an hundred thousand strong, of which twenty thousand hurl darts on horseback: nor is the Armenian yet come in, nor the borderers upon the Caspian sea, nor the Bactrians, but the neighbouring Troops only, and Suburbs of the Kingdom. So ●●sily hath he levied a vast Army. 'Tis time, therefore, to consider what we have to do.  Adimantus. 
My counsel is to dispatch our Foot Companies to Ctesiphon; and our Horse Troops to stay hereto guard Babylon.  Samippus. 
The nearness of the danger makes you a coward Adimantus, what is your opinion Timolaus.  Timolaus. 
To march against the enemy with our whole Army, and not to give them leisure to increase their strength, by the new Forces which from all places are coming in, but to give them an onset by the way.  Samippus. 
'Tis well advised: What think you Lycinus?  Lycinus. 
My counsel is, that tired with walking this morning down to the Pyraeum, and now thirty furlongs back again, the Sun also now at noon being hottest, we repose ourselves among those olive trees, and sit down upon this engraven pillar. Afterwards that we rise up and walk on to the City.  Samippus. 
Do you take yourself to be at Athens, Lycinus, when you are sitting in a Council of war, in the plains before the walls of Babylon?  Lycinus. 
Your pardon, Sir, I thought you in your wits, But I see you are beside them.  Samippus. 
March we on, then, and show yourselves undaunted with perils, nor betray the courage of your Ancestors. You see your enemy in present Array. Let the word be Enyalius. At the sound of the Trumpet, rush on with a shout, clash Spears with shields, and join battle with the enemy; Get within their Darts, that we may avoid their strokes, taking from them their just space and aim: and since we now fight hand to hand, Timolaus, and his left wing hath put the Medes their Encounterers to flight. The battle about me is yet equal, for it consists of Persians, and the King is among them. The whole Force of the Barbarian Horse is turned upon the right wing. Behave you, therefore, yourself stoutly, Lycinus, and encourage those about you to withstand the Impression.  Lucinus. 
O dire misfortune! All the Horsemen make their assault upon me, and I am left alone to encounter them. My best course is, since they enforce me, to run away to the fencing school, and leave you here in the Skirmish.  Samippus. 
By no means. You have in part vanquished them. ay, as you see, am to enter combat with the King, who challengeth me, and to refuse him were dishonourable.  Lycinus. 
By jupiter, you will presently be wounded by him; For 'tis very Princely to receive wounds in a Duel for a Kingdom.  Samippus. 
You say true. I have received a slight wound; but in no open place of my body, which shall hereafter betray any deformed scar. But do you see how upon reencounter I have with one thrust of my spear pierced both him and his horse? Next cutting off his head, and taking off his Crown, how I am saluted King, and publicly adored? From the Barbarians I expect adoration, over whom I will rule by the Grecian Laws; and be styled one Emperor of both. Afterwards, imagine how many Cities I will build to my name; how many I will demolish, and take by force, if they contemn my Government. But my chief persecution shall fall on rich Cydias; who being my neighbour, dispossessed me of my field, and by degrees encroacht upon my borders.  Lycinus. 
Finish your wars, Samippus, 'tis now time after such great Conquests to celebrate your victories at Babylon with a feast, (For your Empire, I believe, hath extended beyond your furlong) and that Timolaus take his turn, and wish what he please.  Samippus. 
But how like you my wishes Lycinus?  Lycinus. 
As much more laborious, (most admired Prince) and troublesome than Adimantus wishes▪ since he desired only a life of pleasure, and to entertain his friends with two Talon Goblets. But you were hurt in a Duel, and were cast into fears, and anxietyes night and day; And were not only surrounded with Affrightments from your enemies, but with a thousand Domestic Treasons: Besides the envy, hatred, and flatteryes of those with whom you conversed. Among whom you had not a true friend, but all their affections were dissembled, and acted; out of hope, or fear. The fruition of your very dreams was not pleasant. Only you had Glory, purple garments, embroidered with Gold, a white fillett about your head, and a guard to go before you. The rest is toil insupportable, joined with much anguish. For you are to entertain Ambassadors from the enemy, or to sit in judicature, or to publish Edicts to your Subjects. Then some Nation rebels; or some Foreign invasions are made upon your Empire. So that your fears, and suspicions are perpetual. And you appear happier to all men then to yourself. Can that condition be noble, wherein you feel the same sickness as peasants do? nor doth a fever distinguish you as a King; nor death fear your Guards; but making what accesses to you, it pleaseth, carries you away lamenting, without any reverence to your Crown? Whilst you falling from your height, and snatched from your Throne, and going the common way of men, and made equal to the vulgar, by being lost among the heard of the departed, leave behind you upon earth only a high Tomb, or exalted Pillar, or Pyramid rising in equal angles, as so many late, and insensible honours. The Statues, and Temples, which flattering Cities raise to you, your great name also perish all by degrees, and die neglected. Or if they be of any long continuance, what fruition can they afford to one senseless of them? You see, then, what fears, perplexities, and toils befall you alive; and what shall befall you after death. 'Tis now your turn to wish, Timolaus, see you ask discreetlyer than these two; as it becomes a prudent man, and one acquainted with affairs.  Timolaus. 
Judge you, then, Lycinus, what is faulty in my wish, and what to be corrected. I desire not gold, or Treasure, or sacks of Coin, or Kingdoms, and Wars, and Affrights of Empire, which you deservedly rejected. For all these things are unstable, and fraught with Treasons, and carry with them more trouble than delight. But I would ask of Mercury certain Rings of those several virtues. The first should keep me in a firm consistency, and health of body; invulnerable, also, and free from distempers. The next should make the wearer invisible, like that of Gyges. I would have another, which should instill into me the strength of ten thousand men, and enable me single to carry a weight scarce to be lifted by an Army. I would have another Ring, which should enable me to fly aloft from the ground. I would also charm as many as I pleased asleep. Doors also at my approach should voluntarily open, the locks fly back, and the bolts fall off; and this to be performed with one Ring. But above all I would have one more powerful than the rest, which worn, should make me amiable to handsome Boys, Women, and whole Nations, and should so enamour, and inflame them, and make me so desirable, as to be their discourse. Women impatient of their desires should hang themselves, and boys grow mad, and account him happy, on whom I vouchsafe to look: And they whom I neglected should pine away with grief. Briefly, It should render me more beautiful than Hyacinthus, or Hylas, or the Chian Phaon. And thus would I be not for a short time, or according to the measure of the life of man, but a thousand years, renewing my youth after youth, and still returning to the age of seventeen; and casting off my decays like serpents. In this state I will lack nothing. Whatsoever others possess shall be mine, by my power to open doors, lay the Keeper's asleep, and enter invisible. If there be any thing in the Eastern, or Northern parts of the World, of strange, and unusual spectacle, or if there be any thing precious, or pleasant to be eaten, or drunk, I would, without sending for them, myself fly thither, and enjoy them to a satiety. And because a Griffin is a winged beast, and the Phoenix a fowl to be seen in India, and no where else, I would behold them there. I would also discover the head of Nilus, and the uninhabited parts of the earth, and the Antipodes, if there be any such, who inhabit the adverse Hemisphere of the world. Next, I would know the nature of the Stars, of the Moon, and Sun himself, being praesecured from their fires. But my greatest delight should be in the same day to report at Babylon who vanquished at Olympia. And if, perhaps, I dine in Syria, to sup in Italy. Then if I had an enemy, to take an invisible revenge of him, and dash out his brains with a stone. On the contrary, to bestow secret courtesies on my friends, and shower gold on them in their sleeps. If there were a proud man, or a rich disdainful Tyrant, I would take him up some twenty furlongs, and then precipitate him. Then, without control might I converse with fair boys, and make invisible approaches, by laying all asleep but they only. What a spectacle we it to hoyer aloft in the Air, above all shafts, and there look down upon two Armies fight? And if I listed to join myself to the weaker side, and by charming the conquerors to bestow victory on the flyers, and recall them from their flight. In a word, the whole life of men should be my recreation; All things should be mine, and others should take me for a God. And this is the height of felicity, which can neither fade, nor be betrayed, especially being accompanied with health, and long life. What can you blame, Lycinus, in my wish?  Lycinus. 
Nothing, Timolaus, nor were it safe to oppose a man winged, and stronger than thousands. But yet let me ask you, Have you among all the Nations you have flown over, seen such another old man, so beside his right mind, as to think himself by the power of a small Ring enabled to remove mountains with the top of his finger? or made amiable to all eyes, though he were bald, and saddle nosed? Again, tell me, why one Ring may not suffice you, but that you must wear so many, and burden every finger of your left hand, nay with the over number charge the right hand too? Besides, you omit the most necessary ring of all, which you ought to wear for the cure of your folly, and allay of your excessive insolence. Unless Hellebore simply taken purge better  Timolaus. 
'Tis at length come to your turn, Lycinus, to wish. We shall now see how innocent, and unblameable your demands will be, who thus accuse others.  Lycinus. 
'Twere needless for me to wish. We are now come to Dipylum; and Heroic Samippus by his Siege of Babylon, and you Timolaus by dining in Syria, and supping in Italy, have worn out my remaining furlong; for which I thank you. For I should never endure to enjoy great riches for a while, and shortly after be tormented with their loss, and be compelled to eat a thin morsel of bread; which will ere long be your case, when your fantastic selicitye, and airy treasures take flight, and forsake you. And you taking leave of your wealth, and sceptres, like men awakened out of a sweet dream, find nothing at home but dissimilitudes. Like those Tragedians, who Act Kings; who of● the stage are ready to starve, though on it they were Agamemnon's, and Creon's. You cannot, then as 'tis fit, but pine, and vex at your mean spectacles at home. Especially, you, Timolaus, when Icarus misfortune lights on you, and when upon the melting of your wings, you fall from heaven, and walk again on earth and lose all your enchanted rings which voluntarily drop from your fingers. It shall suffice me instead of Treasures, and Babylon, sweetly to laugh at your wishes, especially being so learned, and made by the praisers of Philosophy.   

The Council of the Gods.  The Speakers, Jupiter, Mercury, and Momus. jupiter. 
LAy aside your future murmurs, ye Gods, and vent not your mutual whispers, and discontents in corners, that so many unwothy mortals are admitted to your meetings. But when the counsel is assembled about it, let every one openly speak his grievance, and make his complaint. And do you Mercury, according to Law, make Proclamation.  Mercury. 
Hear, and be silent. If any perfect God have aught to say to this Senate, he is permitted to speak. The inquiry is concerning the native Gods and foreigners.  Momus. 
With your leave, and pardon, jupiter, I Momus am ready.  jupiter. 
That's granted you already by the proclamation; I need not confirm it.  Momus. 
First, then, I Pronounce some of us blame-worthy; who are not themselves content of men to be made Gods, but, unless they advance their followers, and servants to the same equal honours, think they have done nothing great, or sprightful. I desire, therefore, jupiter, that Liberty of speech may be given me; otherwise my complaints will be imperfect. You all know of what a liberal tongue I am, and how ill a dissembler of faults. For I bring all things into reprehension, and utter my mind freely, not disguising my opinion for fear, or reverence of any: which makes me seem troublesome to some, and naturally a Sycophant to others, and am styled the public Informer. Since, then, the Law, Proclamation, and you yourself, jupiter, allow me freedom of Language, I will speak nothing reservedly. Many there are, (as I said before) who not content to be admitted into our Senate, and to enjoy equal society, though they be half mortal, have brought their servants, and associates into Heaven, and there enroled them: where they now share with us, and partake sacrifices, and pay us not our due tributes.  jupiter, 
speak not in riddles, Momus, but express yourself clearly, and without clouds, and assign names. For hitherto you have thrown your speeches amongst us, and drawn many into suspicion, and raised our jealousies on divers. Utter yourself boldly, therefore, and fear not to reveal yourself.  Momus. 
Since you allow me, jupiter, freedom of utterance, (wherein you do magnificently, and like a Prince) I will come to particulars, and instances. First, then, the most generous, halfe-mortall Bacchus, not so much as a Grecian by the mother's side, but borne of Cadmus a Syrophoenician Merchants daughter, was no sooner installed in his Immortality, but I blush to tell you of his behaviour, mitre, drunkenness, and reeling. I believe, you all see how naturally effeminate, and womanish he is, half mad, and intemperate from morning to night. He, I say, hath introduced his whole Lineage upon us, and is the Leader of a Morris, and hath declared Pan, and Silenus, and certain wild, savage Satyrs, and Goat like men, given to dancing, and of monstrous shapes, for Gods. Of which one hath horns, and in half his body downward resembles a Goat, and wears just such a long beard. Another is a bald old man, wryenosed, riding for the most part upon an Ass, by birth a Lydian. The Satyrs are prick-eared, bald, horned, much like new calved Fawns, by original Phrygians. They have all tails; and these are Gods of the sober Gentleman's creation. Nor are we to wonder if mortal men despise us, when they behold such ridiculous misshapen Gods. I forbear to tell you, how he hath brought up two women, one his Mistress called Ariadne, whose Crown he hath placed among the Stars; the other ●carus the ploughman's daughter▪ Besides, what is yet most ridiculous, O ye Gods, he hath made Erigones dog a Constellation also, lest she should grieve to be without her companion, and whelp she loved, in Heaven. Are not these so many scandals to us, and arguments of our folly, and others laughter? I proceed to others.  jupiter. 
Take heed, Momus, you speak not of Aesculapius, and Hercules. For I see whither your speech tends. One of them you know is a Physician, and cures diseases, and therefore is to be preferred before others. Then, my son Hercules hath purchased his imortality by no small labours. Take heed, therefore, how you accuse them.  Momus. 
For your sake, jupiter, I spare them, though I have much to say; among other things, that they yet retain their marks of fire. But had I liberty to speak of you yourself, I could say much more.  jupiter. 
You have full licence. But how can you question me, who am a native God?  Momus. 
I cannot hear so in Crect, where they speak otherwise of you, and show your sepulchre. But I neither believe them, nor those greeks of Aegina, who say you have but a forged, supposititious Deity. The things which I think most worthy of reproof, are these. The original of these disorders, and the cause how our celestial senate becomes thus adulterated springes, jupiter, from you. Who mingle with mortal women, and descend to them in varied shapes. Which makes us fear least, mistaken for a Bull, you should some time or other be sacrificed. Or when you are transformed into Gold, lest some smith should work you into one change more, and make a chain, or bracelet, or earring of a jupiter. Besides, you have filled heaven with Demigods; for so I must call them. And 'twould be mere Argument of laughter, should any man of a sudden be told, that Hercules is made a God, and that Euristeus, who enjoined him his labours, is dead and perished; and that nearly adjoined are to be seen Hercules the servants Temple, and Euristeus the Master's Tomb. Again, Among the Thebans, Bacchus is made a God; yet his cousins Pentheus, Actaeon, and Learchus were of all men the most unfortunate From the time, then, that you, jupiter, opened the Gate, and accompanied with mortal women, all have followed your example; not only the male Gods, but what is yet worse, the female too. Who knows not Anchises, and Tithon, and Endymion, and jason, and others? All which, to avoid tediousness, I pass over.  jupiter. 
Take heed Momus, you say nothing of Ganymed. I shall take it ill, if you displease the boy by the disparagement of his Pedigree?  Momus. 
If, then, I must not speak of the Eagle which you have also placed in heaven, and which sits upon your imperial Sceptre, and almost builds her nest on your head, but must for Ganymed● sake be sparing; pray tell me, jupiter, how Attis, and Corybas, and Sabazius were advanced hither, or Mithres, the Mede, who wears a Cassock, and Tiara, and hath not Greek enough to pledge him that drinks to him. The Scythians, therefore, and Geteses upon these apprehensions have quite cast us off; bestow Divinity of their own, and make what Gods they please. So that, without our allowance, Zamolxis a slave is registered a Deity. But all these are tolerable, O ye Gods: you Egyptian Barker, who are clad in linen, what are you Divine Doggs-face? or how come you to be a God? Besides, what means this spotted Bull of Memphis, which is adored, and gives Oracles, and hath his Priests? I blush to speaks of the Stork, Apes, Goats, and other ridiculous Deities, which, I know not how, have ascended from Egypt up to Heaven: which how, O ye Gods, can you behold equally, or more honoured then yourselves? Or how can you endure, jupiter, that they should give you the horns of a Ram?  jupiter. 
Surely, the things whereof you accuse the Egyptians, Momus, are very fowl: yet most of them are mysteries, which the profane are not to deride.  Momus. 
Indeed, we have need of mysteries, jupiter, by which we may know Gods to be Gods, and Dogs to be Dogs.  jupiter. 
Speak no more of the Egyptians; of whom we will consult at leisure; proceed to the rest.  Momus. 
Trophonius, jupiter, and what most stirs me, Amphilochus, the son of a wicked Matricide, gives Oracles in Cilicia, false for the most part; with which, for two Drachmas, he deceives the Inquirers: so that you, Apollo, are no longer famous; but every stone, and altar which hath now Oil poured on it, and is Crowned with roses, and frequented by Impostors, of which there are many, giveth answer. The Statue of Polydamas cures fevers at Olympia; and of Theagenes at Thasus. They sacrifice to Hector in Troy; and in the opposite Chersonesus to Protesilaus. Since our number, then, was increased, perjury, and sacrilege have been more familiarly practised; and the virtuous have learned to contemn us. And thus much be spoken of bastard, supposititious Gods. Next, I cannot but laugh, jupiter, when I hear certain strange names of things, which are not found among us, nor, indeed, can be. Where are the somuch spoken of Virtue, Nature, Fate, and Fortune to be seen? are they not mere senseless empty names of things invented by vain Philosophers? which though they have no higher offspring than their fiction, yet they make such impressions upon simple people, that none will now sacrifice to us, out of their persuasion, that though they should offer to us a thousand Hecatombs, yet things would fall out according to Destiny, and Chance, and according to the thread of every man's nativity. I would now gladly know, jupiter, where you ever saw Virtue, or Nature, or Fate. For that you yourself hear such words in the disputations of Philosophers, I doubt not, unless you be deaf, and cannot hear their wranglings. I have much more to say, but will here set my Period. For I see some troubled at my discourse, others hisse; Especially those who have been touched by my freedom. For a conclusion, therefore, if you please, jupiter, I will read the Decree, lately made for redress of those grievances.  jupiter. 
Rehearse it; since thy complaints have not been altogether unreasonable; but that many things are to be reform, and kept from a farther growth.   

The Decree.  The Speakers Momus, and Jupiter, Momus. 
AT a council, lawfully assembled, the seventh day of this present month, jupiter was chief, Neptune Precedent, Apollo Assistant, Momus scribe by Night, and sleep pronounced this sentence. Whereas many Foreigners, not greeks only, but also Barbarians, altogether unworthy of this State, and Society, have registered themselves, I know not how, and taken upon them to be Gods, and filled Heaven, so that our meetings are crowded with the tumultuous confluence of a divers languaged rout, and our Ambrosia, and Nectar spent, and raised to a Mina the quart by reason of the multitude of drinkers: and whereas most immodestly they displace the Ancient, and true Gods, and contrary to the Laws of this Country, claim the highest seats here, and precedency of Adoration on Earth: It seems good to the Council, and present assembly, that the next winter Solstice, a Parliament be called in Olympus; and there seven Gods be joined in a Committee for the examination of usurpations, of which three to be of the old house under Saturn, and four or the twelve; of which jupiter to be one. Next, they who sit in Commission to be Legally sworn by Styx; and Herald Mercury, to summon all those who are to appear in the Synod; and they to bring sworn witnesses, and proofs of their descent, and to come forth one by one. And the Commissioners, upon examination, either to pronounce them Gods, or to return them to their Sepulchers, and the Monuments of their Ancestors. He, who once disallowed, and sentenced by the Commissioners, shall afterwards attempt to enter Heaven, to be cast down to Hell. Next, every one to attend his own profession. Minerva not to practise Physic, nor Aesculapius to give Oracles, nor Apollo so variously to employ himself, but to make his choice whether he will be an Oracle, or a Musician, or a Physician. Philosophers to be admonished that they fayne not new names, nor trifle about things they know not. They who have been falsely honoured with Temples and Sacrifices, to have their images demolished, and the Statue of jupiter, or juno, or Apollo, or some other Legitimate Gods to be erected. City's to build Tumbes to the rest, and in stead of Altars to set up Pillars. Whosoever disobeyes this decree, and refuseth to make appearance to be sentenced unheard.  jupiter. 
The Act, Momus, is most just; you who approve it, hold up your hands; or rather be it ratified. For I know many will deny their suffrages. And so dissolve the Court; with this charge that at Mercury's summons you all appear, and bring every one clear proof, and certain evidence of his father, and mother's name; how he came to be made a God, and also of what stock, and family he is descended. If any appear not, the Commissioners shall not consider what magnificent Temples he hath on Earth, or how men esteem him for a God.   

The Images.  The Speakers, Lycinus, and Polystratus. Lycinus. 
IUst so as they who were confounded at the sight of the Gorgon's head, was I lately astonished at the sight of a beautiful woman; and almost accomplished the fable, by being changed from a man into a stone, and congealed by the wonder.  Polystratus. 
By Hercules 'twas a supernatural, and very powerful spectacle, if a woman did stupefy Lycinus. You frequently suffer such Trances at the sight of handsome Boys; and 'tis much easier to remove Sipylus, then to draw you from their contemplation: so gazingly fixed are you, and many times ready to dissolve in tears like Tantalus daughter. But pray tell me, what petrifying Medusa is this, and from whence, that I may also see her? I cannot think you will envy me her sight, or grow jealous, if I cannot avoid Congealment at the spectacle.  Lycinus 
Know, then, that if you but see her through a Casement, she will presently strike you dumb, and render you more immovable than a statue. But perchance your wound, if you only see her, will be more gentle and slight. Let her but see you, and what power will you have to depart? she will draw you captived whither she list, as the Loadstone draws Iron.  Polystratus. 
Feign not, Lycinus a beauty so prodigious. But tell me who she is.  Lycinus. 
I am so far from speaking Hyperboles, that I fear when you see her, she will so excel, that I shall appear faint in my praises. But who she is I cannot tell you; she was numerously accompanied, and with great pomp attended by a multitude of eunuchs, and waiting Women. In a word her retinue was much above a private fortune.  Polystratus. 
Did you not learn her name, nor how she was called?  Lycinus. 
My Intelligence of her is only that she is of jonia: for one of the spectators, turning to him that stood next, said, Such are the Smyrnaean beauties. Nor is't a miracle that the fairest City should produce the most beautiful Women. By which Boast of her, I conceived the speaker also to be of Smyrna.  Polystratus 
And you, in the mean time, had this property of a stone, neither to follow her, nor to ask him who she was. Describe her, therefore, to me, in the best language you can perchance I may that way be brought to her Knowledge.  Lycinus. 
Do you know what you ask? 'Tis beyond the power of speech, especially mine, to decipher so admirable a piece; for which Apelles, Zeuxis, or Parrhasius, though we should join to them Phidias, and Alcamenes, are insufficient. I shall but deform the Original by my want of skill.  Polystratus. 
However, describe her face, Lycinus, 'twill be no dangerous attempt, to represent her picture to your friend in its own lineaments.  Lycinus. 
I hold it much safer, for the accomplishment of the work, and fairer draught of the woman, to call into my assistance some of the ancient Artificers.  Polystratus. 
How mean you? Or how, after so many years, can you recall them from the dead?  Lycinus. 
Easily if you will vouchsafe to answer to my Questions.  Polystratus. 
Ask what you please.  Lycinus. 
You have been at Cnidos, Polystratus?  Polystratus. 
Yes.  Lycinus. 
And you have seen their Venus?  Polystratus. 
'Tis the best piece Praxitiles ere made.  Lycinus. 
You have heard the story, also, which the people report of her; how one enamoured of the Image, and secretly left in the Temple, to his power committed with the Statue? but more of this some other time. Since, then, you have seen her (as you say) answer me to this question. Have you observed Alcamenes Statue in the Garden at Athens?  Polystratus. 
I were the dullest, and most careless of all men, Lycinus, not to mark Alcamenes fairest piece.  Lycinus. 
I will not ask you, Polystratus, how often you have ascended the Fort, and there seen Sosandra carved by Calamis.  Polystratus. 
I have frequently seen her too.  Lycinus. 
'Tis sufficient. Which piece of Phidias' do you praise most?  Polystratus. 
Which should I, but that at Lemnos? on which he doubted not to engrave his name? and next his Amazon leaning on a Spear?  Lycinus. 
These, indeed, are his best. Nor shall I need more Artificers: take now several parts from all these, and proportion them as well as you can, and I will show you all their excellencies collected in one feature.  Polystratus. 
How may that be?  Lycinus. 
Without difficulty, Polystratus, If allowing the ability of drawing pictures to language, we allow it the power also to trim, compose, and fit, and with the best proportion it can, to observe mixture and variety too.  Polystratus. 
You say true. Pray show me these several excellencies joined. I would fain see how you can dispose them; or how, from such disagreeing parts, you can raise one harmonious piece.  Lycinus. 
The picture, then, which I will present to to your view, shall be of this composition. Give it the head of Venus at Cnidos, and 'twill require no other parts of the naked Goddess Next, you shall allow it the hair forehead, and well drawn eye brows of the Goddess, as they are carved by Praxiteles; as also the sparkle of her eye, joined with such a cheerfulness, and grace of countenance, as Praxiteles hath fancied them. Then the breasts, and fore parts shall be taken from Alcamenes, and his Venus in the garden; as also the extremities of her hands, the Arithmetical junctures of her wrists, and the decent slenderness of her fingers, ending in a beautiful sharp; the Air of the whole face, the delicacy of the cheeks, and measure of the nose shall be borrowed from Lemnia and Phidias, who shall also bestow the composure of the mouth and his Amazons neck. Sosandra, and Calamis shall adorn it with modesty; with which shall be mingled a soft, unperceiveable simper inclining to a smile. The bravery of Attire shall be taken from Sosandra, all but of the head, which shall be bare; the size and dimensions of her stature shall carry just proportion to that of the Cnidian Venus, as Praxiteles hath happily measured her. What think you Polystratus, will it be a fair piece when it is exactly finished?  Polystratus. 
Can there be yet any addition of beauty made to your picture, after such an amiable accumulation of parts?  Lycinus. 
Hitherto my description hath been rude; and to all this, my friend, you are to join colour, and decorum; that those parts which are black be exactly black, and those which are white, be execllently white; and those which are red do out-blush the role. So that the danger is, since the greatest perfection is yet wanting, from what patterns we shall derive it. Shall we call into our assistance the rarest painters, to help us to mingle colours, and teach us how to give them fit order, and disposition? Be it so; let us recall Polygnotus, Euphranor, Apelles, and Aetion; and let them divide the work. Let Euphranor paint the hair, as he hath drawn Juno's. Let Polygnotus limb two decent eyebrows, and such flowery cheeks, as he hath given to Cassandra in the Choir at Delphos; let him also shape the garments so subtly, that part may sit close, the rest may hang loose, and appear blown by the wind. Let Apelles draw the rest of the body by Pacata, on which let him not lay over much white, but make it temperately sanguine. Let Aetion draw such lips, as he hath given to Roxana; but above all, Let Homer, the best of Painters, be joined in assistance with Apelles, and let the whole body wear that colour which he hath laid upon Menelaus' thighs, Ivory dipped in Scarlet. Let him also frame the eyes, and make them Oxe-like; to which let the Theban Poet join his Pencil, and draw the lids. Then let Homer add a sweet cheerfulness, shoulders of snow, rosy fingers, and make her fitter to be compared to his golden Venus, than Briseus daughter. And so much be taken from the most learned Statuaries, Painters, and Poets. But the Grace, or rather all the Graces, and Cupids, collected in one Circle of beauty, arising from this composition what Language can express?  Polystratus. 
Trust me you have deciphered as divine a piece, Lycinus, as if dropped from jupiter, or made by some Celestial Artificer. How was she busied when you saw her?  Lycinus. 
She held a Book in her hands, rolled into two parts; one of which she seemed to have read, and then to read the other. Only between pawses she discoursed some thing to one of her women, which came not to my knowledge, because her voice came not to my hearing. But when she smiled, Polystratus, she betrayed two rows of teeth, so white, so even, and so proportioned to one another, that if you have seen a rope of Orient, and equally sized pearl, just in such order they grew. Only they took a fresh lustre from the Crimson of her lips, through which they shined like Homer's polished Ivory. None were broader, or higher, or more prominent than others, as you see in most women, but were of one equal rank, colour, and bigness, and equally ordered in their rows. Briefly she was a great wonder, beyond all mortal beauty.  Polystratus. 
Despair not. I know what woman you mean, by her description and Country; and by the eunuchs, and soldiers, which you said attended her. Your remarkable piece is a King's wife.  Lycinus. 
What is her name?  Polystratus. 
'Tis a most sweet, and amiable one, Lycinus; The same with that of Abradatas fair wife. Have you not often heard Xenophon praise a discreet, beautiful woman?  Lycinus. 
Yes; and am so affected, that methinks I see her, as often as I read that passage in him; and do almost hear her discoursing of battles; and how she armed her husband, and behaved herself when she sent him to the War.  Polystratus. 
You then, seeing this Lady but once in passage, like a flash of lightning, have hitherto praised only her vulgar perfections, I mean, her body, and outward feature. The perfections of her soul are invisible, nor could you know how much more excellent, and divine, her inward beauties are then her corporeal. But I do, who am of her acquaintance, and have often mingled discourses with her, and am of the same Country. For I have (as you well know) ever praised sweetness of carriage, and affability, and height of spirit, and wisdom, and education, before beauty, as endowments much worthier to be preferred before those of the body. For 'twere most unreasonable, and ridiculous to admire the garment above the wearer. The most perfect beauty, then, (if I may judge) is, when the virtue of the mind concurres with the amiable shape of the body. I can show you some of indifferent features, who are stains to their creation; In whom the only thing praiseworthy dies, and withers, blemished, and disgraced by its desertless conjunction, to so foul a Mistress as their soul. Such women to me resemble Egyptian Temples, where the outward structure is glorious, magnificent, and adorned with precious stones, gold, and carvings▪ but if you shall search for the Deity within, you shall find an Ape, or Stork, or Goat, or Cat. 'Twere easy to give you many such examples. Form, and shape, therefore, are not enough, where the true, and just dress are wanting. I do not mean rich garments, and jewels, but those better dress before mentioned, of virtue, discretion, equal behaviour, affability, and the rest comprehended under these.  Lycinus. 
Being so able, Polystratus, to return tale for tale, as they say, in the like measure, and over, you may do well to draw the portraiture of a soul, that we may no longer fix our admiration on the worse half.  Polystratus. 
You enjoin me▪ my friend, no small enterprise: nor is it all one difficulty to praise things apparent to all, and to make obscure things visible. I shall need assistance too to my Draught, not of Statuaries, or Painters, but of Philosophers, to whose receipts my figure is to be conformed, and fashioned, according to the ancient Imagery. Thus, then, I begin. First, her speech is vocal, and clear, and flows sweetser than honey from her tongue; so that Homer is herein to give her the precedency of his Pylian old man. Every word is pronounced with most delicate Accent, neither too base, or manly, nor yet too treble, effeminate, or lose; but like the utterance of an unripe boy, pleasant, tuneful, and gently stealing into the sense: so that when she cea●es to speak, a certain melody, and relic of her voice remains, and plays about the ear; like a soft echo, which prolongs the hearing, and leaves certain delicious footsteps of language, full of persuasion in the Soul. When she sings her best, especially to the Lute, then 'tis time for Halcyons, and Swans to be silent. For all things are unmusicall, compared to her; Pandions' daughter harsh, and artless, with all the variety of her voice. Had Orpheus, and Amphion, who lead their hearers, and drew things void of sense to their harmony, hear her, they had, I believe, forsaken their harps and stood her silent Listeners. For whence should that Thracian, or the other, who fed a heard on Cithaeron, have the skill so to touch a harp, as to observe the exact proportions of Harmony, not to transgress number, but by seasonable risings, and falls, to give measure to the lessons, than the harp to bear consort with the voice, and the quill to keep time with the tongue, to which are to be added the right stroke of the fingers, and flexibility of the joints? It, therefore, Lycinus, you ever hear her sing, you will no more undergo the transformations of a Gorgon, and pass from man to stone; but will feel raptures like those of the Sirens, whilst a sweet charm creeping over your sense, takes from you the remembrance of your Country and acquaintance. And though you seal your ears, yet the sound will insinuate through the wax. Such is the music of a Terpsichore, or a Calliope, and such is the skill of a Melpomene, ●raught with a thousand enchantments of all sorts. In a word, methought I heard such Harmony, as was fit to pass through such lips and te●th: since, then, you have seen her, imagine you hear her too. Though this excellency of her voice, being purely jonicke, with which in her familiar discourses she mingles much of the Attic elegancy, be the least thing to be admired in her; since 'tis hereditary, and descended to her from her Ancestors; nor could she well do otherwise, having in her travels conversed with the Athenians. Nor do I wonder that she delights in Poetry, and is well studied in that way, springing from Homer's City. Suffice it, Lycinus, that you have seen the picture of her excellent voice, though rudely drawn: Consider we now her other parts▪ which I purpose not, like you, to decipher by a Collection taken from many, and wrought into one piece, (for 'twere poor and like vulgar painters, to join so many various, disagreeing beauties in one draught) but all the virtues of the soul severally taken shall be cast into one exact copy of the original.  Lycinus. 
You promise me a feast, Polystratus, and a variously furnished banquet, and seem to repay me with overflowing measure: proceed then; for there is nothing with which you can more oblige me.  Polystratus. 
Since, then, the knowledge of all good arts is necessary, especially those of Contemplation, I shall present her to you various, and in divers shapes, and shall approve myself not outdone by you in Mimature. Imagine her, then, possessed of all the rare endowments which flow from H●licon; not like Clio, and Polyhymnia, and Calliope, and the other Muses, who are severally learned but in one thing, but possessed of all, even those of Mercury, and Apollo too: whatsoever Poets have written in ravishing numbers, or Historians have published, or Philosophers extolled, are but the several trimming, and ornaments of my picture; which are not to be superficially coloured, but to be throughly steeped in colours of Grain, iterated, and to satiety repeated. You are to pardon me, If I cannot show an Archetype to this portraiture; Since in all the Monuments of the Ancient Literature, none such is recorded. If you think fit, therefore, let this piece of her be laid up as sacred; being, in my judgement, spotless, and without blemish.  Lycinus. 
You have described her, Polystratus, most exactly, and with all her numbers.  Polystratus. 
I am, next, to decipher the Image of her wisdom, and understanding. For which I must borrow aid from many examples, most of them ancient, and one jonicke. My painters, and coadjutors shall be Aeschines, friend to Socrates, and Socrates himself; the best resemblers of all those Artificers, who ever drew with a Venus, and life. Their Aspasia, with whom the admired Olympius familiarly conversed, as she is by them proposed for no mean example of wisdom, both for her experience in business, sharpness in affairs politic, and for the edge, and piercingnesse of her judgement, will I in the most exact resemblance transfer from Miletum to my picture: only here will be the difference, she is drawn in a narrow Tablet, this Image will take up the Dimensions of a Colossus.  Lycinus. 
How mean you?  Polystratus. 
That though both portraitures be equal in resemblance, yet they are not in magnitude. Nor did the Athenian Commonwealth then carry any near proportion to the Roman Greatness now. Though, then, they agree in similitude, yet this excels in largeness, as being drawn in a more spacious Table. To these add we, for a second, and a third example, Theano, and the Lesbian Poetresse, and Diotima. Theano shall confer height of mind; Sapph courtliness of Behaviour; she shall resemble Diotima not only for those virtues extolled by Socrates, but for her other discreet endowments too: and so Lycinus, you have one part more of her picture.  Lycinus. 
By jupiter, Polystratus, most admirably limbed. Pray describe her other perfections, namely, her sweetness of Nature, and affability, the manner how she expresseth her pity, and relieves the distressed.  Polystratus. 
Once more, then, I must resemble her to Theano, Antenor's wife; as also to Arete, and her daughter Nausicaa, and all others who have observed an equal temper in an abundant fortune. Next, fancy to yourself the Idea of modesty, and discretion in Behaviour, and in both she answers Homer's Character of Icarius daughter. For just such a description hath he made of Penelope, as I have, for the agreement of their names, made of Abradatas wife before mentioned.  Lycinus. 
Your piece, Polystratus, is every way complete, nor can you easily find more patterns, having passed through all parts of the soul, and commendation.  Polystratus. 
Not all. Her greatest praises are yet behind. I mean, that in the eminent height of honour in which she is, she is not blown up by her prosperity, nor puffed beyond humane measure by her confidence in fortune; but observes a moderation of carriage which is neither haughty nor burdensome; receives those who make their Address with a popular, and equal sweetness, affording both her hand, and familiarity. For persons of Quality by so much the more win upon their Approachers, by how much being advanced above them, they are not tragical, or unkind in their deportment. And, therefore, they only who show their power not in pride, but benefits, are most worthy of the goods of fortune, and most easily avoid envy. For none will repine at his happiness, whom they see temperate amidst his felicities, and not like Homer's Ate, stalking on the heads of men, and trampling inferiors. A carriage not unusual in men of base spirits, though the misapprehension of their fortune. By which, beyond their hopes, being suddenly advanced, and placed in a sublime, and winged chariot, they keep not within their measure, or look down, but strain to fly aloft, till at length, like Icarus, their wax melts, and feathers drop off, and they, to the laughter of the beholders, fall headlong into the sea, and flood. But they who, like Daedalus, employ not their wings to too lofty flights, remembering they are joined with wax, but observe a humane course, and love to carry themselves not too high from the water, rather choosing to wet their feathers, then betray them to the Sun, fly in a safe, and secure Region. As this Lady, who cannot be sufficiently praised, did: who receives this reward of her virtues, to have all men wish that she may always be upon this height of the wing, and that all good things may stream to her.  Lycinus. 
So be it, Polystratus; since her merits arise not only from her bodily gifts, which are equal to Helen, but she is much more fair, and lovely in the qualities of her mind. It becomes also so great a King, and withal so serene, and gentle, among his other felicities to have the happiness to have so brave a woman borne in his Empire, joined to him in marriage, and to love him. For that woman can be no vulgar blessing, of whom the speech of Homer may properly be pronounced, that she may contend with Venus for beauty, and with Minerva for parts. For the woman cannot be assigned, with whom she may be compared, for shape, for wit, for mind, for artifice, as Homer hath it.  Polystratus. 
'Tis true, Lycinus, If you think fit, therefore, let us mingle Characters, and unite your picture of her body, with mine of her soul: which compiled in a book, let us exhibit to the general admiration of the present age, and succeeding. A monument much more lasting than if drawn by Ap●lles, or Par●hasius, or Polygnotus; and she herself will show much more illustrious limbed by the industry of the Muses, then represented in wood, wax, or colours: since that is the best picture which, with the beauties of the body, expresseth the virtues of the soul.   

A Defence of the former Discourse.  The speakers Polystratus, Lycinus. Polystratus. 
I Am sensible, Lycinus, says the Lady, of your great respects, and the honour you design me in your writings. For no man would have so over praised me, but one who wrote with affection. But the thing which I would have you know is this. In my disposition I am not taken with Flatterers, but such men seem to me Impostors, and slaves by nature. So that when any man heaps Panegyrics on me, and swells my praises into troublesome, immoderate Hyperboles, I presently blush, and am ready to stop my ears, and take his commendations rather for mockeries, then just Encomiums. For praises are no farther tolerable, than the person praised knows them to be due. All excess is improper, and fawning. I know many, says she, who delight to hear themselves commended, and to have their defects supplied by flatteries. As, if they be old, to have one extol their vigour; if they be deformed, to be preferred for beauty before Nireus, and Phaon. Supposing they alter shape from their praises, and wax young again, as Pelias believed. But they are deceived. For nothing were so precious as Panegyricke, if Hyperboles could bestow whatsoever they commend. Methinks, therefore, said she, their case is much like his, who being naturally ill-favoured should wear a beautiful vizard: and then grow proud of his borrowed looks, though they be ready to drop off, and be disordered upon every encounter; and thereupon to expose him to the more laughter, when he returns to his own face, and appears without his veil. Or, as if a dwarf wearing buskins should contend in stature with one a cubit higher. Hereto she joined an example. There was, said she, a great Lady, of competent feature, and handsomeness, but low, and very short of just stature, praised by a Poet, in song, among other perfections for her beauty, and tallness, who compared her for length and straightness to a poplar tree; she was much tickled, and clapped her hands, as if she had received new stature from the verses: which the Poet, seeing her so joyed with false praises) often repeated to her. Till a slander by whispering him in the ear, said, forbear, Sir, lest you persuade the Lady she is grown taller. A story like this, but much more ridiculous, she reported of Stratonice the wife of Seleucus, who proposed a talon for the reward of that Poet who most elegantly praised her hair; though she were bald, and had but few hairs left: yet bald as she was, and publicly known to have been so of a long time, by reason of a disease; she found some wretched Poets, who called her her hairs Hyacinthine, and wove them into curled tresses, and compared the thinner spaces to Lovedge. She, therefore, laughs at all such who thus expose themselves to flatterers. She added moreover, that many love to be thus flattered, and deceived, not only in language, but in pictures too: and, therefore, choose those painters, who will draw them best featured. For there are some, says she, who charge the painter to dis●semble their nose, to add blackness to their eyes, and whatever else they desire; Hence they are not drawn, but do honour to other pictures nothing like them. These and the like were her expressions. Many things in your description she likes, but resents one passage where you resemble her to juno, and Venus. Such comparisons, she says, are much too high for her, or any mortal creature. Nor will she allow you to take Idea from such Heroic women as Penelope, Arete, and Theano, much less from the most excellent Goddesses. For she says, she bears a sacred horror, and a superstitious reverence to all things concerning the Gods. And fears she should be like Cassiopeia, should she admit such praises; though she stood only in comparison with sea Nymphs, and adored juno and Venus. She, therefore, bids you, Lycinus, either alter such expressions, or she will call the Goddesses to witness you wrote without her allowance. She would have you, also, know, that she is much troubled your book should be made so public, comprehending (as now it is) so much irreligion, and blasphemy against the Gods. She thinks, also, she cannot excuse herself from impiety, and sacrilege, should she suffer herself to be equalled to Venus at Cnidos, or in the Gardens. She desires you, also, to remember what you said of her towards the end of your book, where you style her moderate, not haughty, nor soaring above humane reach, but observing humble flights; and yet forgetting yourself, you advance her above the heavens, and place her among the Goddesses. She would not have you think her more indiscreet, then Alexander, who when an Architect promised to transform Athos, and so to figure it like him, that the whole mount should be his statue, holding two Cities in his hands; gave no countenance to such a prodigious undertaking, but holding the Attempt to be above his performance, dismissed the man not probably able to contrive so vast a Colossus, and bade him let Athos stand as it was, and not shrink so great a hill to the similitude of so small a body. She, therefore, much extols Alexander's Magnanimity, and says, by this refusal he hath erected a statue bigger than Athos in the minds of those who will be his perpetual remembrancers. It being no Act of mean spirit to contemn such a Paradox of honour. She praises, also, your Imagery, and admires the contrivance of your draught, but acknowledges it not to be like her, being unworthy of such resemblances, nor any way near them; nor, indeed, any woman else. She, therefore, returns your honours with veneration of your Archetypes, and patterns: and desires you would praise her a more humane way, and not make her shoe too large for her foot; lest when she meets you, you silence her. She bid me, also, tell you, that she hears many say (how truly you know) that conquerors in the Olympic Games, are not licenced to have Images erected to them bigger than their bodies; and that the Judges take care that none exceed the truth; but exactly size their Statues to the measure of the wrestlers: she would therefore have you consider, whether if she should allow your false dimensions, the Judges would not demolish her picture. Think, therefore, Lycinus, upon some fair alteration of your book, and blot out your offences against the Gods; which she took with so much resentment, and read with such horror, that she besought the Goddesses to be propitious to her. Nor was she to be blamed for expressing the passions of her sex. For, to tell you true, I was minded to have said some such thing myself; who at first hearing perceived nothing amiss, having my contemplation fixed on her descriptions: but since she made her objections, I begin to be of her opinion; having before suffered in myself a deceit of the sight; which beholding things in too near an approach, and close to the eye, cannot perfectly distinguish; But at a just distance, and space, all things cast true appearances, and are seen as they are. To resemble a mortal woman, then, to Venus, and juno, what is't but to detract from the Goddesses? For by such comparisons the less is not advanced to the greater, but the greater is diminished, and drawn down to the less. As if two should walk together, one of very tall, the other of dwarfish statute, and you should desire to match them in equality, not one to exceed the other; the shorter by stretching himself would never reach the others height, though he stood Tiptoe. But if they will appear alike statured, the taller is to stoop, and depress himself. So it is in Imagery; where a man compared to a God is not so much made greater, as the God called down to an inferior is made less. Yet had your want of earthly instances sent you to heaven for Copies, you had had some excuse for your impiety: but you having for example the beauties of so many women, had no need to liken her to Venus, or juno. You are, therefore, to your utmost to deliver yourself from envy, Lycinus: who are not accustomed, nor otherwise prone, or easy to over-praise; yet now, I know not how, you are suddenly changed, and fallen to excesses, and show yourself as prodigal of your commendations, as hitherto you have been sparing. Nor let it beget your shame, to correct your work, though published; since they report Phidias to have done so, when he drew jupiter for the Eleans: who when he first opened his workmanship to the view of Passengers, stood behind a curtain, and heard what they blamed or praised. One accused the nose, as too big, another the face as too long; others censured other parts; and when the spectators were gone, Phidias shutting himself up corrected, and reform his picture by the public Judgement. Holding the opinion of so many not to be contemned, but that many must necessarily see more than one, though that one were Phidias. Thus much she gave me in Commission to say, which I cannot but approve being your friend, and so well affected to you.  Lycinus. 
Till now, Polystratus, I took you not for such an Orator, who by your lengthened speech, and accusation of my work, have left me no hope of an Apology: yet of one piece of Injustice, I must complain, especially in you, who have sentenced my book undefended, and no advocate assigned to it. 'Tis easy, I suppose, according to the Proverb, for him to win the race who runs alone; nor do I marvel at your conquest, where no glass is set up, nor liberty given to plead: but that which is yet more unreasonable, is, that you have made your s●lves the Accusers, and Judges too. Which, therefore, will you, that I patiently submit to your Decree, and like the Himeraean Poet, write a Recantation? or will you give me leave to make an Appeal?  Polystratus. 
Take your choice, so you come prepared with a just defence, which you shall not make before your Adversaries, as you call us, but before your friends. I am prepared to undergo the like Trial.  Lycinus 
I am something troubled, Polystratus, that I shall not plead for myself in her presence (which would have been much to my advantage) but make my defence only at her command, yet upon condition you will be as faithful a reporter to her, as you have been from her to me, I will put my cause on the Dice.  Polystratus. 
Secure yourself Lycinus, you shall find me no partial conveyer of your answers, so you contract them into such a brief, as I may well remember them.  Lycinus. 
I should rather prolong my defence to such copious Accusations; but for your sake I will abridge it. Tell her then from me.  Polystratus. 
By no means, Lycinus, but express yourself as if she were present: under which personation, I will represent you to her.  Lycinus. 
Since you will have it so Polystratus, I do suppose her present, and to have spoken to me whatsoever you have reported from her; though it put me to the expense of a second preparation. For (not to conceal my perturbations from you) you have (I know not how) made the Attempt much more terrible to me. who (as you may perceive) do sweat, and tremble at the apprehension of her presence, which begets a kind of astonishment in me. Thus, then, I begin, since there is now no way left for evasion in her presence.  Polystratus. 
Let not so serene a countenance affright you: you see she is cheerful, and mercifully disposed; speak boldly, therefore▪  Lycinus. 
ay, most excellent of Ladies, whom you charge for having praised you above just measure, cannot see how I have bestowed more Panegyricke on you, than you have heaped upon yourself by your religious esteem, and reverence of the Gods, which is more to your commendation, than all I have said of you. Pardon me, therefore, that I omitted this part of your description, which had it fallen within the compass of my knowledge, had stood in the first place: not with a purpose to excel your other praises, but because, I have said much less than you deserve. Judge, therefore, what excellencies I have left out, and what available proofs of your religious carriage and strait intentions. Since they who thus reverence the Gods, are to be supposed virtuous in all their Actions towards men. Should you, then, enjoin me to alter my writings, and to correct my portraiture, I should be so far from substraction, that I should insert this passage as the top and crown of the whole work. Next, I confess myself obliged to thank you, that when I praised the moderation of your behaviour, as not corrupted, or swollen, or puffed up with your present greatness, and fortune, you by your dislike of my expressions, have confirmed, & verified them. For not greedily to catch at such commendations, but to blush at them, and to think them above you, is a sure sign of a discreet, and affable temper. You, therefore, by your averseness to praise show yourself so much the more worthy to be praised; and do almost fulfil the saying of Diogenes, who being asked which was the readiest way to glory, said, the contempt of it. So should one ask me who most deserved praise, I would say, they who most avoid it. But this is Digression, and from the purpose. That whereto I am to make my defence, is, that in drawing your picture, I have resembled you to Venus at Cnidos, and in the Gardens, to juno, also, and Minerva. Comparisons too high and beyond your last. To this I might reply, that the old saying is, Poets and Painters are not accountable; much less Panegyrists; though their language be jower, and not fettered in numbers. For praise is a free thing, and not to be measured by the laws of brevity, or excess; but makes this its principal aim, to commend the person praised to the public emulation and wonder. But I will not take that way of defence, lest I should seem to you so to do for want of other matter. You know that the laws of panegyrical Orations consist in the Panegyrists right use of similitudes, and resemblances; and the height of the Art is to apply well: which is achieved not when like is compared to like, or to a worse, but when the thing praised is advanced by something as transcendent as 'tis possible. For example, If one in commendations of a Dog should say he were bigger than a Fox, or Cat, would you think such a one skilled in the Art of praising? you would not; nay though he should say, he were equal a Wolf, he had not praised him much. But the perfection of praise were to compare a Dog to a Lion for size and strength. As when the Poet praises Orion's Dog, calls him Lyon-tamer, which is the perfection of a Dog's commendations. Again, should any man, desirous to praise Milo the Crotonian, or Glaucus the Carystian, or Polydamas, say, they were stronger than a woman, would you not think him worthy to be laughed at for his silly comparison? or if he should say they exceeded other men, 'twere not praise enough. But how doth the excellent Homer magnify Glaucus? He says, Pollux had not might enough to encounter him hand to hand, nor Al●mena's warlike son. Do you mark to what Gods he compares him, or rather prefers him before them? yet Glaucus took not resentments to be extolled above the stoutest Gods; nor did they take revenge either of him or the Poet. as irreligious in his prelations; But both were famous, and had in honour of the greeks, Glaucus for his valour, the Poet for his numbers, especially for that passage in them. Wonder not, therefore, that I, intending to bring you into comparison, (which is essential to a Panegyrist) went by the highest patterns, led by the reasons of the work. But since you in veigh against flattery, and profess your hatred of flatterers, I am obliged to make that one degree more of your praise but by the way I will define and distinguish the business of a praiser, from the excesses of a flatterer. A flatterer, making his profit the end of his commendation, without any regard to truth, thinks he cannot be hyperbolical in his praises, with which he mingles many untruths and falsehoods of his own, not blushing to stile Thersites com●lier than Achill●s; or to call Nestor the youngest of all the Captains that came to Troy; and so he may gain by his lying, he will swear that Croesus' son is of quicker hearing than Melampus, and that Iphneus is quicker sighted than Lynceus. Whereas the other in praising, lies not, nor inserts descriptions utterly disagreeing; but taking their natural perfections though not great, amplifyes them, and makes them larger: not fearing when he would decipher a horse naturally swift, and fleet, to say, 
He could fly o'er the tops of unpressed corn;  Again he would not doubt to say, 
The course of horses swift as wind.  And if he were to praise a fair house magnificently furnished, he would say, 
Such is the Inside of the Olympic Hall.  Which verse a flatterer for hope of reward, would apply to a swine-heardes Cottage: like Cynaethus, flatterer to Demetrius P●liorcetes; who when he had spent all other ways of flattery, praised him for his phthisic; and said, he caught very musically. Nor is it the only mark of difference between them, that flatterers strive to purchase favour with those they praise by lies, and that the others praise truths with advancement: but that wherein they most differ, is that the one without choice heap together what Hyperboles they can; the others use them, but selected, and confined to moderation. These few distinctions of many have I shown you between flattery and just praise; that you may not confound, but divide them, and asigne them their several limits, and measure. Now, then, if you please, apply both these rules to my descriptions of you, and see to which side they belong. Had the person, which I compared to the statue of Venus at Cnidus, been fowl, and deformed, I might deservedly have been thought a deceiver, and more impudent than Cyn●ethus: but being such a one as we all know you to be, my boldness is not altogether unpardonable. But, perhaps, you will say, or rather have already said, that you allow me to praise your beauty, but than it ought to have been without envy, or comparison of a frail woman with Goddesses. ay, most excellent Lady (for now truth compels me to speak) have not compared you to the original Goddesses, but to their Copies wrought by the best Artificers in stone, brass, and Ivory. Nor can I think it irreligion for men to draw resemblances from the workmanship of men; unless you take her Statue made by Phidias for the true Pallas; or the Venus carved not long since at Cnidus by Praxiteles for the heavenly: which apprehensions of them were dishonourable, since I hold their true portraitures unexpressible by any humane imitation. But suppose I had compared you to them, I am not singular, or the first broacher of such similitudes; but have for my examples excellent Poets, especially your Co-cittizen Homer, whom I will now raise from the dead in my defence, confident of your allowance of a name so Classic. Let me ask him, then, or rather you, (who among your other praises, are skilled in all the best descriptions of his Poems) What think you of that passage, where speaking of the captived Briseis, he says, Bright as Golden Venus she bewailed Patroclus? and a little after, as if his comparison of her to Venus were not enough, he says: 
So spoke the woman Goddess-like and wept.  As often as you meet with such expressions, do you hate him, or throw away his Iliads, or do you allow the licentiousness of his resemblances? If you do not, so many past ages have; nor hath he hitherto found an accuser, or one that durst lash his Statue, or libel his obeliske, with the inscriptions of his censurable verses. If he, then, were licenced to compare a barbarous, weeping Lady to Glittering Venus, may not I (ommitting your beauty, not to be spoken of with your patience in your hearing) compare a sprightful, debonair Lady, to the Images of the Gods, for those things which we mortals partake in common with them? next, in his Character of Agamemnon, observe how sparing he hath been of the Gods, whose scattered perfections he hath collected, & cast into one gallant description, where he says, For his eyes and head he was equal to Jupiter, for his courage to Mars, for his breast to Neptune; dividing his parts by several resemblances with the most eminent Gods. In another place he compares him to mortall-slaughtering Mars, and compares others to other Gods; He calls Hector the Godlike Phrygian, and Achilles frequently the Godlike Greek. But I return to examples of the other sex, you know where he says, 
She is like golden Venus and Diana;   
And 
Such is Diana hunting.  Nor doth he only compare them with Gods, but likens Euphorbus hair to the Graces, though imbrued with blood. In a word, there are so many examples in Homer, that there is scarce any part of his Poem unadorned with similitudes taken from the Gods. Either, therefore, let such expressions be blotted out, or grant me liberty to make the like▪ Nay the use of allusions, and similitudes, is so uncontrollable, that Homer hath not doubted to bestow praises on Goddesses borrowed from mean and inferior things; thus he calls juno ox eyed, and Venus in another place Violet-sighted; who is so smally versed in his poems as not to have read of the rosy-fingered Aurora? 'Tis no offence, then, to say, one is shaped like the Gods; but how many have assumed their compellations, and have styled themselves, Bacchus' and, Vulcan's, and jupiters', and Neptune's, and Mercuryes: The wife of Euagoras, King of Cyprus, was called Latona; yet no Goddess was offended, though able to transform her, like Niobe, into marble. I forbear to speak of the Egyptians, of all people the most scrupulously superstitious; yet the names of the Gods are in that plenty worn among them, that most of their compellations are fetched from heaven. Be not you, therefore, troubled at my praises. For if there be any offence against the Gods in my writings, you are not accountable, unless one may prove guilty by hearing offences read. The Gods will punish me, when they first punish Homer, and the other Poets; but they have not yet taken revenge of the best Philosopher, for saying man was the Image of the Gods. I have much more to say, but for Polystratus sake do here break off, that he may the better report what I have said.  Polystratus. 
I know not, Lycinus, whether I be able: for you have spoken long, and beyond your Glass. Yet I will try the goodness of my memory. And that my relation to her may be faithful, I do here stop my ears; lest the entrance of other things should confound your method, and I be exposed to the hisses of the spectators.  Lycinus. 
'Twill concern you, Polystratus, to act me right: and so, having delivered you your part, I take my leave. When the Judges give up their Decision, I will appear again, and see what will be the issue of this controversye.   

jupiter Tragedian, or a Discourse of Providence.  The speakers, Mercury, Minerva, Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, Venus, the Colossus, Momus, Apollo, Hercules, Hermagoras, Timocles, Damis. Mercury. 
WHy thus musing, jupiter, and holding private Dialogue with yourself? You look pale, and have got the face of a Philosopher. Unlock yourself, and make me Counsellor to your Dumps: perhaps my trifling assistance will not prove contemptible.  Minerva. 
Say, Jove, thou Sire of Gods, and things below,  
I blew-eyed Pallas beg, reveal, and show,  
What new disturbance doth thy mind surprise,  
And from whence do thy sighs, and paleness rise?  jupiter. 
'Tis beyond the power of language to name the thing so grievous, or the distemper, or calamity so Tragical, with which the nature of the Gods is not burdened.  Minerva. 
O Phoebus! with what Prologue he begins to speak!  jupiter. 
O ye wicked earth sprung race of Mortals, and thou more wicked Prometheus, what evils do I suffer?  Minerva. 
What ail you, Sir? Pray tell this assembly of your friends.  jupiter. 
O my loud thunder, what dost thou profit me?  Minerva. 
Moderate your rage, Sir, unless you intent to put us into Buskins too, and to answer you in lofty parts taken from Euripides.  juno. 
Do you think we know not the cause of your distemper, Sir?  jupiter. 
Thou canst not know, scold never so loud.  juno. 
Alas, Sir, the root of your commotion is love. Nor is it my custom to scold; though I have been frequently injured in this kind. You have found some Danae, or Semele, or Europa who hath kindled this distemper in you, which you will quench by turning yourself into a Bull, or Satire, or shower of Gold, in which you will descend into the bosom of your Mistress. For your sighs, and tears, and change of colour, are but so many signs, and confessions of your flames.  jupiter. 
Happy thou, who thinkest my disturbance springs from such a Toy as Love.  juno. 
What else can afflict jupiter?  jupiter. 
The state of the Gods is in extreme danger, juno, and, according to the Proverb, it stands upon the edge of a razor whether we shall hereafter be worshipped, and receive sacrifice, or be utterly neglected, and held in contempt.  juno. 
Hath the earth produced new Cyants? or have the old broke their chains, and freed themselves from prison, and took fresh arms against us?  jupiter. 
The Gods are safe from their invasion.  juno. 
What else worthy our fears, can befall us? If your distemper arise not from hence, I see not why you should of a jupiter become a Polus, or Aristodemus.  jupiter. 
Yesterday, juno, Timocles the Stoic, and Damis the Epicurean (upon what occasion I know not) disputed of Providence, in a great Assembly of knowing and understanding men; which much troubles me. Damis maintained there were no Gods, who either disposed, or took care of humane Affairs; but the religious Timocles argued for us, till a press of people rushing in, broke off the dispute without a decision: only they agreed to meet again, and finish the discussion. And this is the day on which the suspended heareiss expect which will conquer, and speak most probable truth. Do you see our danger, and to what straits we are reduced, when Heaven relies upon the proof of one single man? one of the two must happen; either we must be despised, and held only empty names; or be honoured as before, i● Timocles pre veil.  juno. 
Believe me, these are no slight dangers, no● were you tempestuous in vain, Husband.  jupiter. 
You thought the cause of my distemper to be some Danae, or Antiope. What, then, shall we do? Mercury, juno, and Pallas, contribute your advice.  Mercury. 
My counsel is to call a Parliament, and to refer the business to a public consultation.  juno. 
I concur with Mercury.  Minerva. 
I hold it not fit you should trouble heaven, or show yourself disquieted with the Accident; but privately project that Timocles may overcome, and Damis may depart exploded from the disputation.  Mercury. 
Such stratagems, Jupiter, will not be concealed, the Philosophers disputing so publicly: besides, you will be thought a tyrant, not to impart so weighty an Affair, wherein all are interested.  jupiter. 
Make proclamation, then, and summon all the Gods.  Mercury. 
I obey you. Ho, O ye Gods, come to the Parliament: delay not, but assemble yourselves to consult of affairs of state.  jupiter. 
Do you make such slight, simple, and faint proclamation, Mercury, for a Parliament of this consequence?  Mercury. 
What should I say, jupiter?  jupiter. 
What should you say? I would have you make proclamation in verse, and in bigge-voyced poetry, that the Assembly may be the fuller.  Mercury. 
'Tis fit for Epic writers, and writers of Rhapsodyes. I am not poetically given, and shall therefore spoil the summons by over or under feet, and my verses will be scorned as inspired by displeased Muses. Besides I see many laugh at Apollo for his halting oracles, though his obscurity secure him, and give not the hearers leisure to examine his numbers.  jupiter. 
Join, therefore, as many of Homer's verses together as he usually summons us in. You cannot but remember them.  Mercury. 
Not over readily. Yet I will try.  

Be then, no female absent, or male God,  
No Goddess of the Sea, or Nymph o'th' Flood;  
But all to Jupiter's Great Council come,  
Who ere claim Sacrifice, or Hecatomb.  
Come Nameless too, and vulgar Deities,  
Who feed on gross clouds which from Altars rise   jupiter. 
Well done, Mercury; and like a perfect Herald. They are already assembled, assign them their places, according to their dignities. Let the Golden sit first, next to them the Silver, than the Ivory, than the brazen, than the stone; and among these let those take place, who have been carved by Phidias, or Alcamenes, or Myron, or Euphranor, or the like rare Statuaryes. As for this ignoble, uncarved rout, let them sit crowded together afar off, and keep silence, and serve to fill up the Assembly.  Mercury. 
It shall be done; and they shall sit as you decree, Jupiter. But I understand not whether a Deity of Gold, though ill carved, and of vulgar, and misshapen sculpture, shall take place by the talon, and weight, of Myrons, or Polycletus brazen, of Phidias, and Alcamenes stone Gods, or whether they shall sit by Imagery, and workmanship.  jupiter. 
It ought to be so Mercury; but custom prefers the Gods of Gold.  Mercury. 
I am instructed. You would have them seated by their wealth, not by their excellencyes, and values. Come, therefore, sit first ye Gods of Gold. You see, jupiter, the highest rooms are taken up only by Barbarians. All the Grecian, polite, fair shapen, well wrought Deities, are but of stone, or brass; or if there be any more precious, they are but of Ivory, slightly guilt, and coloured over with Gold, wooden within, and lodging whole swarms, and commonwealths of flies. whereas Goddess Bendis, and Anubis, and next to him Attis, and Mithres, are entirely of solid, massy, precious Gold.  Neptune. 
With what Justice, Mercury, do you place that ugly, Dog faced Egyptian before me, who am Neptune?  Mercury. 
Because Lysippus hath form you brazen, Neptune, and poor; The Corinthians at that time having no Gold; But he is made of the wealthiest mettle. You must, therefore, be a patient Spectator, and not take indignation, if one with such a golden snout be preferred before you.  Venus. 
Place me, then, Mercury, in the foremost row; for I am golden.  Mercury. 
Surely, Venus, I am much mistaken, then, and my sight fails me, if you be not Alabaster, hewed from the Quarry of Pentelus, which Praxiteles thought good to work into a Venus, and then bestowed you on the Cnidians.  Venus. 
I have authentic Homer for my authority; who up and down his Poems always calls me golden Venus.  Mercury. 
So he styles Apollo rich, and wealthy; yet you shall see him presently sit among the last, robbed of his Rays, and Coronet by thiefs; and the strings of his harp sacrilegiously stolen. Be content, therefore, lest you be thrust down among the servants of the Assembly.  Colossus. 
Who dare stand in competition with me, being the Sun, and of such magnitude? whom though the Rhodians have not cast very ingeniously, not to admiration, yet they have made sixteen golden Gods by my rude pattern. In reason, therefore, I ought to be held the wealthiest. As for my workmanship, and making, 'tis recompensed by my greatness.  Mercury. 
What shall I do, jupiter? this is a difficult case. If I consider his mettle, 'tis brass; But if I consider how many talents of brass he weighs, 'twill rise to above five hundred medimnes, and exceed a Knight's estate.  jupiter. 
What makes He here, thus to upbraid the others, with their smallness, and disturb their sit? Nevertheless, though, most excellent Rhodian, thou be more honourable than the Gods of gold, yet how canst thou take place, except all the others rise, and make thee room to sit, whose each buttock will take up the whole woolsack. 'Twill be best, therefore, for thee to stand, and stoop down sometimes to our consultations.  Mercury. 
Here's another knot hard to be untied, Bacchus, and▪ Hercules, both of Brass, of the same work, and made by Lysippus, of the same equal descent, being both sons to jupiter. Which therefore shall sit first? for you see they both strive for place.  jupiter. 
We lose time, Mercury, and should long since have begun the consultation. Let them, for the present, sit promiscuously, as every one pleaseth. This shall be the business of another meeting, where an Act shall pass in what order they shall take place.  Mercury. 
But do you mark in what tumult the Commons are, and how they cry out for their daily shares, and distributions? Where is our Nectar? What's become of our Ambrosia? Where are our Hecatombs? restore our Sacrifices.  jupiter. 
Silence them, Mercury; That laying aside their trifles, they may know wherefore they are Assembled.  Mercury. 
All do not understand Greek, jupiter. Nor have I languages enough to speak to Scythians, Persians, Thracians and Gauls. I think it best, therefore, to enjoin them silence by beckening with my hand.  jupiter. 
Do so.  Mercury. 
Hark, they are all as mute as Pythagoreans. Begin your speech; All their eyes are fixed upon you, expecting what you will say.  jupiter. 
I will not conceal my distemper from thee, Mercury, being my son: Thou knowest what a confident and stern voiced speaker I am.  Mercury. 
I do, and have trembled at your speeches, especially when you threatened to draw up from the deep, the earth, sea, Gods, and all by letting down your golden chain.  jupiter. 
Yet partly with the Apprehension of the instant dangers, partly with the greatness of the Assembly (which Thou seest is numerous, and solemn) I am confounded, and dashed, and my tongue is fettered and tied. Besides, what is yet worse; I have forgot the preface, which I made to my speech, that I might gain the more favourable entrance into their Attentions.  Mercury. 
You mar all, jupiter, They will presently suspect your silence, and expect to hear some great mischief from your delay.  jupiter. 
Shall I then, speak Homer's prooem to them?  Mercury. 
What is't?  jupiter. 
Listen to me ye Gods, and Goddesses.  Mercury. 
Fie you have cloyed us with such prefaces already: If you will take my counsel, perplex not yourself with verse; but take one of Demosthenes' Orations against Philip, and alter it to your purpose, 'tis the practice of many modern Orators.  jupiter. 
Thou sayest well. 'Tis a Compendious way of Rhetoric, and lies open and prepared for those who are unprovided: Thus than I begin. I suppose, O ye men and Gods, it will be in stead of great fortunes to you, to hear me declare the Cause, why I have called you together. 'Twill, therefore, become you to lend me cheerful attention. The present occasion, doth almost vocally instruct us to make prevention of our present dangers; with which we all seem too coldly affected. I will, therefore, borrowing no longer preface from Demosthenes, clearly open to you the reasons, why in great perplexity I have summoned this Parliament. Yesterday, you know, Mnesitheus the Pilot offered a Sacrifice for the preservation of his ship, almost wracked near the Promontory of Caphareus. And feasted as many of us in the Piraeum, as he called to the Sacrifice. After the oblation, you all departed several ways, as your business led you. Only I, towards evening returned to the City to walk in the Keramick; considering with myself Mnesitheus thrift, who entertained sixteen Gods with the sacrifice of one ancient, decayed, rheumatic Cock; and four grains of musty, withered incense, which vanished in the kindling, and sent not up smoke enough to touch the tip of our noses, though he vowed whole Hecatombs, when his ship was ready to dash upon the rocks, and sink. With these contemplations I was carried on to the painted gallery, where I saw a vast crowd of people, some standing within the School, others without, others very earnest and loud, sitting upon benches. I guessing them, (as indeed they were) to be wrangling Philosophers, drew near to hear what they said: And wrapping myself in a thick cloud, presently transformed myself into one of them; and stroking my long beard perfectly resembled a Philosopher. Having made my passage with my elbow, I entered, unknown who I was, where I found that Atheist Damis, the Epicurean, and the best of men Timocles the Stoic, hotly disputing. Timocles had quite lost his voice with sweeting and clamour. Damis, profusely laughing, ceased not to provoke him. Their whole disputation was concerning us, whom the wicked Damis affirmed to be void of providence, and not to regard the affairs of men; which is to maintain us not to be at all. And this he proved with great strength of Argument, and the applause of many On the contrary, Timocles, well studied in our cause, encountered, abhoried, and repelled his proofs. Much extolling our providence, and showing how we rule, dispose, and give order to all things in the world. Nor did he want some who praised him. Only he was tired, and spoke feebly, which turned all the eyes of the multitude upon Damis. But I apprehending our danger, caused night to close upon them, and dissolve the meeting: whereupon they divided, upon agreement the next day to give an issue to the disquisition. At their departure I mingled myself with the press, and heard them magnify Damis' Arguments, and extol them above measure. Some also there were who would not prejudge the opposite side, but kept themselves in suspense, what Timocles would urge the next morning. These are the motives for which I called you together; which are not slight, O ye Gods, if you consider that all our honour, glory, and reverence, proceed from men. If they, then, be once persuaded, either that there are no Gods, or if there be, that they fall not under our providence, we shall no longer receive Sacrifices, gifts, or honour from the earth; But shall here sit neglected in heaven, famished, and deprived of our Feasts, Holidays, Games, Oblations, and night Solemnities. I hold it, therefore, fit that we unanimously advise upon some remedy against those dangers; And how Timocles may prevail, and appear to be in the truth, and Damis may be exposed to the laughter of the Auditors. I am not confident that Timocles of himself can conquer, unless we lend him our assistance. Make legal proclamations therefore, Mercury, that whosoever will may stand up and speak.  Mercury. 
Harken All, with silence. If any of the perfect Gods have aught to say, he is permitted to speak. How's this? Not one stand up? Or are you struck dumb with the fear of what you have heard?  Momus. 
Be all as speechless as the earth, and sea. If you will give me liberty of utterance, jupiter, I have many things to say.  jupiter. 
Speak boldly, Momus, thy freedom doth promise good counsel.  Momus. 
Afford me your Attentions, then, All ye Gods. I have long expected that our affairs should be driven to those straits, and that many such Sophisters should spring up who take the cause of their boldness from us. Nor ought we in equity to be displeased with Epicurus, or his followers, and successors in that Sect, for their opinions of us. For what apprehension of us can they have, who see such a tumult, and disorder in things? good men despised, and afflicted with poverty, sickness, and thraldom; corrupt, and wicked men held in veneration, overflowing with wealth, and bearing rule over the Virtuous? Some to scape punishment with sacrilege, others to be crucified, and racked for innocence? when they see such an unequal disposition of things, they may dispute whether there be such things as Gods. Especially when they hear such ambiguous oracles as these: Halys past; Thou an empire shalt dissolve. Not explaining whither his own Empire, or the enemies Again, 
Thou Salamis shalt women's sons destroy;  Which held both for Persians and greeks, who, I believe, were women's sons. Again, when they read those Poems, where we are said to be enamoured, and wounded and made servants, and imprisoned, and to hold factions, and a thousand such passages which are practised among us, who all the while pretend to happiness and immortality, how can they choose but laugh, and contemn us? yet we are angry because some men are not stupid, but bring these things into disputation, and take our providence from us: whereas we guilty of such irregularities ought to be glad that we are sacrificed to at all. And here, jupiter, (since we are alone, and no man present in this Assembly, but Hercules and Bacchus, and Ganymed, and Aesculapius who are now denizoned Gods) answer me truly, whether earthly affairs have at any time so entered into your care, as to examine what men are wicked, and what virtuous? Had not Theseus travelling from Tr●ezon to Athens casually slain the malefactors by the way, for any hindrance from you, or your providence, Sciron, and Pityocamptes, and Cer●yon, and others, might have lived, and glutted themselves with the slaughter of passengers. And had not Euristheus, a just and provident Prince, out of his love to mankind, enquired into their grievances, and redressed them by sending abroad Hercules, than his servant, an active, stout, and hardy man, Hydra, and the Stymphalideses, the Thracian horses, and contumelious drunken Centaurs, had never entered into your consideration, jupiter. To say truth, our whole employment is to sit, and observe who offers sacrifice, and perfumes our Altars. All other things are ruled by chance, and fall out by accident: We suffer, therefore, justly for the present, and are likely to suffer more hereafter, when men looking up to us shall find that 'tis but loss to sacrifice to us, or to send us up oblations. Shortly, therefore, you will see the Epicureans laugh at us, such Philosophers as Metrodorus, and Damis prevail, and our defenders overcome by them. 'Twill concern us, therefore, to finish, and heal these grievances, both present, and precedent. As for Momus there is no fear that I shall be less honoured, who was never yet a God of respect, when you flourished, and enjoyed your Sacrifices,  jupiter. 
We must privilege this fellows humour, O ye Gods, which is always bitter, and Satirical. 'Tis easy for every body, says the excellent Demosthenes, to find fault, complain, and rail; but to show a way how to settle the present distemper, is the work of a wise Counsellor: which I expect from you though he be silent.  Neptune. 
ay, as you all know, live under water, and have my kingdom to myself, in the deep; where, as well as I can, I protect passengers, transport ships, and allay storms: yet out of my regard to the public cause, I hold it fit that Damis, before he enter into a second dispute, be destroyed, either by a thunderbolt, or some other way, lest he overcome; (for you say, jupiter, he is eminently persuasive) whereby others may perceive, that we are able to punish those who urge impious Arguments against us.  jupiter. 
Are you in jest, Neptune, or have you forgot, that such revenges are not in our power, but that the destinies decree who shall die by lightning, who by the sword, who by a fever, who by a consumption. Did I hold the scales, do you think I would have suffered those sacrilegious thiefs to have scaped from Olympia unthunderstruck, who cut off two of my locks weighing six pound a piece. Or would you have connived at the fisherman of Oreus, who stole your Trident at Geraestus? Besides, 'twill argue our passion, melancholy, and fear of Damis Syllogisms; as if we slew him out of our distrust that he would vanquish Timocles: which were to get the better, only in an undefended cause.  Neptune. 
I thought I had contrived a compendious way to victory.  jupiter. 
Your contrivance, Neptune, is as gross as a Tunyes, to slay an adversary before his time, and to destroy him unconvinced, leaving the question controvertible, and undecided.  Neptune. 
Do you project better, since my counsel is contemptible.  Apollo. 
Did the Law permit young, unbearded Gods, to give advice, perhaps I might say something useful to the present business.  Momus. 
In deliberations of this weight, we are not to speak by age, but by the common Interest. For 'twere ridiculous if in extreme perils we should stand upon niceties of Law. Besides, you Apollo, are a legitimate speaker, and have long since past your nonage, and been enroled of the twelve, and should have been of the board in Saturn's time. Let not your youth, therefore, be your excuse, but speak your mind freely, nor be abashed that you are a beardless speaker; your son Aesculapius having so long a one. Besides, 'twill now become you to give some proof of your wisdom, lest you appear to have sat all this while idle at Helicon, and to have Philosophized with the Muses.  Apollo. 
You are not to grant licences, Momus, but jupiter. At whose command I may, perhaps, say something worthy the Muses, and my retirement at Helicon.  jupiter. 
Speak my son, you have liberty.  Apollo. 
Doubtless Timocles is a virtuous man, a lover of the Gods, and exactly studied in the Stoic Learning; which makes him so stored with pupils, by whom he receives a large revenue; so persuasive is he to his scholars in private. But in public he is so timorous and of such a silly, and harsh delivery, that he still raises the derision of the auditory by his disconnections, and tautologies, and Nonplusses. And thus he is when he most labours to be eloquent; Though otherwise he be of a sharp judgement, and subtle apprehension, as they report, who are versed in the Stoic Arguments: which he through imbecility spoils, and confounds in the exposition, and urging, not clearly expressing his drift, but proposing his meaning enigmatically, and giving dark answers to the opposite questions. Hence his hearers laugh at as much as they do not understand. For nothing more advances a disputation, then to urge clearly; and to the capacity of the Auditors.  Momus. 
You do well, Apollo, to praise perspicuity, though you little practice it in your Oracles; where you are dark, and knotty, and securely cast forth many things so ambiguous to your hearers, that they need another Apollo to expound them. But give your advice, how may we cure the Imperfection of Timocles speech?  Apollo. 
By joining a Coadjutor to him, Momus, who shall take his Arguments, and press them with a better grace.  Momus. 
Counsel worthy your beard, and a schoolmaster; To place a Co-disputant in such an assembly of Philosophers, to interpret to the Auditors whatsoever Timocles shall urge, and Damis to dispute single. Besides, should he use a Co-adjutor, privately to whisper his arguments into his ear, and he speak rhetorically more than he understands, it must needs raise the laughter of the schools: some other course therefore, is to be thought upon. In the mean time, you, methinks, who take upon you to be a prophet, and have such an ample revenue coming in by your predictions, that sometimes they have offered sows of gold, should in this time of danger tell us by your Art which of the disputers will prevail. For being a Presager, you cannot but know things future.  Apollo. 
How can I, Momus, having neither Tripod, nor perfume, nor presaging fountain here, like that of Castalia?  Momus. 
See how you Wave my demand, and to what straits you are driven.  jupiter. 
Answer him, Son, and give not the railer occasion to detract or slander thee, as if thy skill lay in a Trivet, and Spring, and Incense, without which thy Art fails thee.  Apollo. 
I should better obey, Father, at Delphos, or Colophon? amidst my Oracles, as my custom is: yet unfurnished as I am, I will endeavour to foretell you whose shall be the victory. But perhaps you will take exceptions unless I speak in verse.  Momus. 
No matter so you speak things which need not a Comment, or Interpreter. No sheep, or tortoise is now boiled in Lydia; you know about what affair you are consulted.  jupiter. 
What ghastly terrors precede Oracles? See, his colour changes, his eyes roll, his hair bristles, his gate is frantic. All things testify a divine possession, and are full of mystery and horror.  Apollo. 
Unto Prophetic Phoebus lend your ears,  
About a strife raised by loud Sophisters;  
Who armed with fables, dart disputes; and Noise:  
And fill the streets with Syllogisms, and voice.  
But when the Vulture in his crooked claws  
Shall grasp the locust, and shower telling daws,  
Have clackt their last, the Mules shall then prevail;  
But th' Ass shall his fleet colts with horns assail.  jupiter. 
Why do you laugh so profusely, Momus? our present affairs are above sport. Cease, Mischief, or thou wilt be choked with laughter.  Momus. 
How can I choose jupiter, at such a clear, and intelligible Oracle?  jupiter. 
It seems you can interpret, then, what he said.  Momus. 
'Tis so plain, that we need not a Themistocles. For the Oracle says expressly that the utterer is a cheater, and that we are pack Asses, and Mules for believing him, and have not so much wit as Grasshoppers.  Hercules. 
Pardon me Father, jove, if I, an assumed God, speak my opinion; When they are met for disputation; If Timocles have the better We will let the arguments go on; But if it happen otherwise, I, if you please, will shake the School, and cast it on Damis, that he shall never more impiously reproach us.  Momus. 
O Hercules, Hercules, how wildly, and Boeotian like haste thou spoken, to destroy so many innocents' with one offendor, and demolish a school, with Marathon, Miltiadës, and Cynaegirus? After whose ruin, how shall the Rhetoricians make their speeches, being deprived of their greatest argument, and help? Besides, in your life-time, perhaps you might have performed such an exploit. But since you were made a God you have learned, I believe, that such accidents are reserved only for the Fates, and exempted from our power.  Hercules. 
When I slew the Lion, and Hydra, then was I but instrument to the Destinies?  jupiter. 
'Tis so.  Hercules. 
If one should now affront me, or rob my Temple, or demolish my Statue, might I not crush him; though the sisters had not anciently decreed so?  jupiter. 
By no means.  Hercules. 
With your leave, then, jupiter, be it spoken. (for I, as the Poet says, am a blunt fellow, and call a spade a spade) If our case be so, I will take farewell of my honours, smoke of incense, and blood of sacrifices here, and go down to hell, armed wi●h my naked bow, where the shades will dread me for the savages I have slain.  jupiter. 
So, here's a home witness, as they say. You have just taught Damis what to say. But what brazen faire-shapte, well carved, hasty messenger comes yonder, with an antique bend about his head? 'Tis thy brother, Mercury, The Rhetorician who stands in the painted gallery, see how fullyed he is with being so often cast▪ what brings thee hither post, my son? Any news from the Earth?  Hermagoras. 
Great news, jupiter, and well deserving of my dispatch.  jupiter. 
Speak it, if it be any thing we knew not before.  Hermagoras. 
As I was just now under the braziers hands, who soldered my breast to my back, and carved a ridiculous corselet about my body, and with like art stamped his Copper mark upon me, I saw a tumultuous crowd of people thronging about. Two bawling ill looked, contentious Sophisters, Damis, and—  jupiter. 
No more, Hermagoras, of your tragical news: I know whom you mean. But tell me how long have they been at skirmish?  Hermagoras. 
They do but yet hurl darts at a distance, and cast reproaches at one another.  jupiter. 
All we can now do, ye Gods, is to bow down our ears, and listen to them. Let the Porter Hours therefore, remove the bolts, dispel the clouds, and set open the doors of Heaven. Good Hercules! what a multitude of hearers are met together? I do not like Timocles, he trembles, and is so daunted, that he will betray our cause, and confesseth himself manifestly unable to encounter Damis. Let us, therefore, the best we can assist him with our prayers, and wishes, silently, and to ourselves, lest Damis hear us.  Timocles. 
Darest thou maintain, thou sacrilegious Damis, that there are no Gods, nor any providence over men?  Damis. 
No. But first answer me, why thou art persuaded there are.  Timocles. 
Nay first, answer me, Thou lewd fellow.  Damis. 
Not till thou answer me.  jupiter. 
Thus far our man hath the better, and hath given the louder onset. To him Timocles, rail at him; For therein lies thy strength; Though at Argumentation he be able to stop thy mouth, and make thee as silent as a fish.  Timocles. 
By Minerva I will not give the first answer.  Damis. 
Well, Timocles, your oath shall prevail. Propose your question, but without ill language, I pray.  Timocles. 
Tell me then, Thou Miscreant, dost thou hold that the Gods have no providence?  Damis. 
I do.  Timocles. 
That's very fine indeed; do all things fall out, then, without providence?  Damis. 
Yes.  Timocles. 
And is the care of the Universe not ordered by the Gods?  Damis. 
Noe.  Timocles. 
Are things, then, carried by Accident and blind chance?  Damis. 
They are.  Timocles. 
Can you, good people, hear these things with patience and not stone this blasphemer?  Damis. 
Why do you provoke the people against me, Timocles? or what are you, that you should be thus tempestuous for the Gods? when they hearing me formerly (if yet they can hear) were not all displeased, nor made me a wretched example.  Timocles. 
They do hear thee, Nay they do hear thee, Damis, and will punish thee hereafter.  Damis. 
When will they have leisure to punish me, who, you say, are taken up with such serious employments, as the disposition and ordering of the numberless affairs of the world? so that they have not yet had time to revenge themselves on thee for thy perjuries, and other offences? Excuse me if thy own provocations draw bad language from me, who cannot see what greater proof of their providence the Gods can show▪ then to destroy such a sinner as thou art. But 'tis plain they are traveled from home over the sea to the devout Aethiop●ans. For they use frequently to go thither for entertainment, and sometimes without invitation.  Timocles. 
What shall I say to so much impudence, Damis?  Damis. 
Marry, that which I have long desired to hear, how you became persuaded that the Gods have a providence.  Timocles. 
I took my first persuasion from the order of things; observing the Sun always to move in the same Circle, as also the Moon, than the revolution of times, the springing of the Plants, the generation of beasts, and these so regularly disposed, as to be able to feed, move, apprehend, walk, build, contrive defences. All which seem to me as so many demonstrations of providence.  Damis. 
You run away with the question, Timocles, nor have you yet proved whether providence move those wheels or Noah. That such things are done, I grant, but whether ruled by the hand of providence I hold not necessary to be believed. 'Tis true there is an orderly rising, and course of things, but you call this order necessity Then you grow Choleric if you be not obeyed in your opinion, when you make an enumeration of things, and think your praises of them are so many demonstrations that all their revolutions and changes are the effects of providence. Hitherto, therefore, your answer hath been frivolous, give a better.  Timocles. 
Methinks they need not a higher proof; yet I will produce others: Answer me, then, Dost thou take Homer to be the best Poet?  Damis. 
Yes.  Timocles. 
I build my faith, then, on his authority: he plainly mentioneth a providence of the Gods.  Damis. 
Most admired Sir, We all grant that Homer was an excellent Poet, but not that he or any other Poet is of authority sufficient in this case. For truth, I believe, was not their aim, but the delight of their hearers. And, therefore, they sung in verse, and mixed fables with their numbers, having only pleasure for their end. But I would fain know by what place of Homer you were most persuaded. By that where speaking of jupiter, he says, his daughter, and brother, and wife, took counsel to bind him, and had not Thetis out of compassion called in Briareus to his aid, our great jupiter had been fettered, and hurried to prison? Out of his gratitude for which rescue, at Thetis' suit, he deceived Agamemnon, and sent him a false dream, that many of the Grecians might be destroyed. Where observe that he was not able by a bolt of thunder to consume Agamemnon, unless he had shown himself a deceiver too. Or perhaps, you are most swayed by the description, how Diomedes assisted by Pallas wounded Venus, and Mars himself. And how, a little after, the Gods held a conflict, and war among themselves, males with females, where Pallas overcomes Mars, weakened, I suppose, by the wound he received from Diomedes: And against Latona's useful Hermes stands. Or perchance your persuasion is built on that passage of Diana, where she complains, and takes disdain, that she was not invited by Oeneus to his feast; and in revenge sent a vast Boar of an invincible strength to waste his country. Are these the authorities of Homer, on which you build your belief?  jupiter. 
Hark what a hum the applauding multitude give Damis, whilst our man stands like one forsaken, dismayed, and trembling, and ready to cast away his shield, and prying after a passage to make an escape.  Timocles. 
What thinkest thou of the authority of Euripides, who brings in the Gods upon the stage, protecting virtuous, and valiant men, and subverting the wicked, and irreligious, such as thou?  Damis. 
If, Timocles, Thou most learned of Philosophers, you have drawn your persuasion from tragedies, one of those two must necessarily follow; either you must take Pole, or Aristodemus, or satire for the Gods, or for the Actors of the Gods; when you see them clad in buskins, long robes, spangled cloaks, rich mantles, gloves, ventrals, glittering corslets, and other properties, with which they set off their tragedies, which were most absurd: since Euripides of himself, and unconstrained, freely delivers his opinion in his plays, where you may hear him clearly say, 
Seest thou the Air diffused in boundless spaces,  
Encircling earth, and sea with moist embraces,  
Think this is Jupiter, think this is God.   
Again: 
What Jupiter is Jupiter I know not,  
But what goes in tradition.—  and the like.  Timocles. 
Are all people and nations deceived then, who hold there are Gods, and celebrate their Festivals?  Damis. 
I thank you, Timocles, for quoting the Nations. From whom any man may learn what small certainties may be had of the Gods, of whom there are so many doubts, and diversities of opinion. For the Scythians sacrifice to a Whinyard, the Thracians to Zamolxis a fugitive; who fled from Samos thither; the Phrygians to the Moon; the Aethiopians to the day; the Cyllenians to Phales'; the Assyrians to a Dove; the Persians to Fire; and the Egyptians to water; which is their Deity. More peculiarly the Memphites have an Ox for their God; the Pelusiots an Onion; some a Stork, or Crocodile; others a Dog, or Cat, or Ape. Again, in streets, To some the right side is the Deity, to the opposite dwellers the left, to others half the head. Some adore an earthen cup, others a dish. Are not these Gods to be laughed at, most holy Tomocles?  Momus. 
Did I not tell you, ye Gods, that all this would be divulged, and be brought into discussion?  jupiter. 
Thou didst, Momus, and didst deservedly chide us. It shall be, therefore, my business, if we scape this brunt, to contrive a reformation.  Timocles. 
Tell me yet, thou enemy to the Gods, from whence proceed the Oracles, and predictions of things to come? not from them and their prescience?  Damis. 
Speak no more of Oracles, good Sir, but let me ask you upon what Oracle you most rely? upon that which Apollo gave to Croesus? you know 'twas two edged, and faced like those double pictures of Mercury, which are both sides alike, which way soever you turn them. Nor revealed it whether Croesus passing Halis should ruin his own, or Cyrus' Empire. Yet that ambiguous Oracle cost the wretched Sardian not a few talents.  Momus. 
This fellow is fall'n upon the very objection, ye Gods, which I most feared. Where is our divine fiddler now? Why do you not defend yourself Apollo?  jupiter. 
Thou massacrest us, Momus, with thy unseasonable reprehensions.  Timocles. 
Thou were't best, then, thou Atheist, quite overthrew the religion, and altars of the Gods by thy impious discourses.  Damis. 
I would not have altars pulled down, Timocles; since without any great inconvenience they may still send forth sweet smells, and perfumes. Yet I would be glad to see Diana's Altar at Taurica utterly demolished, if she delight in such Sacrifices on them.  jupiter. 
What an uncontrollable mischief is fallen upon us? This fellow spares no God, but inveighs, and le's fly at all, whether guilty, or not.  Momus. 
You will find few of us innocent, jupiter; And therefore you shall have him presently strike at the highest.  Timocles. 
O thou God-opposing Damis, dost thou not sometimes hear jupiter thunder?  Damis. 
I hear thunder, Timocles; but whether jupiter be the thunderer, you know better than I, who came lately from him. They who come from Crect say otherwise; where his sepulchre is to be seen with a pillar erected, showing him long since dead, not thundering.  Momus. 
I long since foresaw he would make that objection. Why do you loose colour, jupiter, and gnash your teeth for fear. You are to take courage, and contemn such fellows.  jupiter. 
Contemn, say you, Momus? do you not see what a ring of Auditors he hath? And what persuasions of us they take in from Damis, who leads them captived by the ears?  Momus. 
But you, jupiter, when you please, letting down your golden chain, can draw them all up with the earth, and sea.  Timocles. 
Tell me, Infidel, were't thou ever at sea?  Damis. 
Often, Timocles.  Timocles. 
Were you not driven by the wind, falling on your tackling, and swelling your sails, or by Rowers? and did not a pilot, standing at the helm, preserve the ship?  Damis. 
I grant it.  Timocles. 
A ship, then, ungoverned could not sail. And canst thou imagine the whole universe should move without a governor, or pilot?  Damis. 
Your illustration, Timocles, is discreet, and solid. But, then, the pilot of a ship always contrives things necessary; and before hand prescribes their employment to the sailors, and provides that the vessels carry nothing useless, or unfit, but be fraught with profitable burden. But your other pilot, who, you say, rules the greater ship, and his co-governours' order nothing regularly, as becomes them. But sometimes, as it falls out, the mast is fastened to the stern; and the tackling to the foredeck. Sometimes the Anchors are of gold, and the trim of lead; the bottom under water is carved, and painted, the deck and rails are deformed and rude. Again, you may observe some of the sailors, sluggish and artless, and impotent at their business, rewarded with double or treble shares. Others able to steer, and to order the sails, and skilled in navigation, set to empty the sinks. The like observation you may make of the passengers. Many times a slave sits uppermost, next the governor, and is looked upon with reverence▪ or perhaps, some Catamite, Parricide, or Church robber, is advanced to the highest place of the ship, and many virtuous men are thrust into an obscure, retired hole, and trampled by them: Consider, how Socrates, Aristides, and Phoc●on, sailed; how unsufficiently victualled, and unable to stretch their feet upon the bare boards beyond the sink. On the contrary, in what streams of pleasure did Callias, and Midias, and Sardanapalus swim, and look down upon their inferiors? This is the Government, Timocles, of your ship, under which have happened a thousand wracks. If there were a pilot who observed, or ordered things, first, he would not be ignorant, what passengers are virtuous, what wicked. Next, he would assign employments answerable to every man's desert; and place the best men in the best place, near himself, and the worst men in the worst below. Then, he would take into his counsel, and fellowship, the most excellent. The industrious Sailor should rule the stern, or govern the sides, or command in chief; The slothful and careless should five times a day be beaten about the head with a rope. The instance, therefore, which, admired Sir, you have given of a ship is through the badness of the pilot in danger to suffer wrack.  Momus. 
This succeeds according to the stream of Damis, who now with full sails is carried on to victory.  jupiter. 
'Tis true, Momus; Timocles hath urged not one argument of weight, but all common and vulgar, and easy to be confuted.  Timocles. 
Since you think the example of the ship of small force, hear now a sacred anchor, as they say, a proof by no engine to be broken.  jupiter. 
What more will he urge?  Timocles. 
I will now press thee with a Syllogism; see if thou be able to overthrow it. If there be Altars, there are Gods, but there be Altars, therefore there are Gods; Answer me to this.  Damis. 
I will, assoon as I have laughed my fill.  Timocles. 
Methinks your laughter is very endless, prithee tell me why thou thinkest my argument ridiculous.  Damis. 
Because you discern not by what a slender thread your anchor, though sacred, hangs. For by inferring that there are Gods because there are Altars, you think you have woven an invincible Cable. Since, therefore, you profess yourself unable to spring a proof helper, for this time let us depart.  Timocles. 
Thou confessest thyself vanquished, then, by breaking off first?  Damis. 
I do, Timocles. For you, like malefactors led to punishment, fly to Altars. By your sacred Anchor, therefore, I swear to sacrifice upon your Altars against you, that we may no more dispute of them.  Timocles. 
Thou may'st flout me, thou tombe-breaker, villain, abominable slave, whipped rogue, scum of men; whose uncertain father we know not, but know thy mother was a whore; who slewest thy brother, liest with men's wives, corruptest young boys; Thou luxurious, impudent fellow. Fly not till I beat thee; for I will maul thee, Pagan as thou art, with this Brick-bat.  jupiter. 
Damis goes away fleering, O ye Gods, the other follows railing, and impatient of his jeers, and ready to break his head, with a potsherd; what shall we do?  Mercury. 
Methinks the Comic poet says well; mischiefs contemned lose their force. What great danger can it be, then, if a few men go home thus persuaded? there are more who hold the contrary both Grecians, of other nations, and the Barbarians in general.  jupiter. 
Yet I cannot but repeat, Mercury, that gallant saying of Darius, spoken of Zopyrus. I had rather have such a one as Damis of my side, then conquer a thousand Babylon's.   

The Cynic.  The speakers Lycinus, and a Cynic. Lycinus. 
HOw comes it, Friend, that you have a long beard, and hair, but have no gown, but go ragged, and unshod, making a vagrant, inhuman, savage life your choice, and against all example abusing your body wander up and down, and lodge upon the bare ground, sullying your coat, which is not of the finest web, nor over soft, or florid.  Cynic. 
Yet I feel no want: whatsoever is of easy procurement, and possessed with least trouble sufficeth me. But pray tell me, do you think luxury a vice?  Lycinus. 
Yes.  Cynic. 
And frugality a virtue?  Lycinus. 
Yes.  Cynic. 
Why, then, seeing me live thriftier than others, and others live more wastefully, do you accuse me, and not them?  Lycinus. 
Because you seem not to me to live thriftier than others, but more distressed, or rather more perfectly needy, and poor; not at all differing from beggars, who beg their daily sustenance.  Cynic. 
Shall we, then, (since we are entered into this discourse) define what want, and enough is?  Lycinus. 
If you please.  Cynic. 
Is that sufficient for every man which satisfies his want, or do you require more?  Lycinus. 
Be it so.  Cynic. 
And is that poverty, when necessities are supplied in a shorter proportion than is fit?  Lycinus. 
‛ Tis.  Cynic. 
I then lack nothing, whose necessities are sufficiently satisfied.  Lycinus. 
How mean you?  Cynic. 
Consider the end of all our provisions against poverty. Is not a house for shelter?  Lycinus. 
Yes.  Cynic. 
For what use are clothes? are they not for cover?  Lycinus. 
Yes.  Cynic. 
And why, for God's sake, do we need cover? Is't not for welfare of the thing covered?  Lycinus. 
I think so.  Cynic. 
What think you, then? are my feet worse than other men's?  Lycinus. 
I know not.  Cynic. 
Thus, then, you may know; what is the business of feet?  Lycinus. 
To go.  Cynic. 
Do my feet, then, think you, carry me worse than other men's?  Lycinus. 
Perhaps not.  Cynic. 
But if they were better, or worse, could they not perform their office?  Lycinus. 
Proceed.  Cynic. 
I show not worse affected in my feet, then, than other men?  Lycinus. 
You do not.  Cynic. 
Is my body worse than other men's? If it be worse, then 'tis feebler; for the virtue of the body is strength; Is it feebler then?  Lycinus. 
Not in appearance.  Cynic. 
Neither my feet, then, nor the rest of my body need a covering. If they did, they would be ill affected. For want is altogether ill, and where 'tis, makes things worse. But my body shows not the worse fed, because I eat what ever comes to hand.  Lycinus. 
'Tis clear.  Cynic. 
Nor would it be vigorous, if 'twere ill nourished. For bad diet rots, and corrupts the body.  Lycinus. 
'Tis right.  Cynic. 
Tell me, then, my case being thus, why you blame, and disparage my course of life, and call it miserable?  Lycinus. 
Because when nature, (whom you adore) and the Gods have set an earth before us, and enabled it to bring forth such plenty of good things, as that without envy there might be sufficient not only to supply wants, but for pleasure too, yet you, deprived of all, or most of these, enjoy no more than the beasts. You drink water like a beast, and eat what you find like a dog. Then your lodging is no better than that of dogs; for you lie upon the grass like them. Then you wear a garment too tottered for a beggar. If, then, this contentment proceed from your wisdom, God hath done ill to make far sheep, delightsome vines, and the other wonderful varieties of nature, as oil, honey, and the like, that we might have food of all sorts. As, also, pleasant drink, money, soft beds, fair houses, and all things provided for our use. The works of art, also, are the works of the Gods. To live, then, deprived of all these, is to be miserable, though you were deprived by another, like prisoners. But his case is much more miserable, who deprives himself of all these good things, for 'tis an evident madness.  Cynic. 
'Tis something you say. But, then tell me, if a rich man should cheerfully, courteously, & friendly make a feast, and entertain guests of all sorts, some weak, and some strong; & should set before them dishes of all variety, and one of the invited should engross, and devour all the meats both near him, and remote, which were dressed for the sickly, being himself sound, and having but one belly satisfyable with a little, should yet outstay the rest, would you take this for a wel-carriaged man?  Lycinus. 
By no means.  Cynic. 
Or a temperate?  Lycinus. 
Neither.  Cynic. 
What if another at the same table should neglect the variety, and choosing one dish near him, sufficient to dine him, should civilly eat of it, and no other, without desire of the rest; would you not think this man more virtuous, and temperate than the other?  Lycinus. 
Doubtless.  Cynic. 
Do you know what I am about to say?  Lycinus. 
What?  Cynic. 
God is like that liberal inviter; And hath set before us entertainments of all sorts, and agreeable to all palates; some things for the healthy, some things for the sick, some things for the strong, others for the weak. Not that all should enjoy all, but every one those things which are proper for him, as his need requires. But you are like him, who through his insatiate appetite, and intemperance snatches all, when you aim at universal fruitions, and send your desires into all parts, nor content with the things next you, nor thinking the earth or sea sufficient for you, fetch pleasures from the farthest coasts, and prefer things foreign before native, and costly before cheap; and things of difficult procurement before things of easy. In a word, desiring rather the evils of business, and traffic, than the calms of life. For all these precious, and happy provisions, in which you rejoice, are conveyed to you through many anguishs, and disquietts. Consider, I pray, your so much desired Gold, and Silver; Consider your magnificent houses; Consider your studied garments; Consider all things belonging to these, with how much negotiation, toil, danger, blood, slaughter, and ruin of men, are they purchased? who not only suffer shipwreck in sailing for them, besides other calamities which they undergo in their search, and pursuit, but embark themselves in frequent wars, and lay mutual traps, and ambushes, friends against friends, children against parents, and wives against husbands. Thus for Gold, I suppose, Eriphile betrayed her husband. And when all is done, embroidery makes not garments warmer. Nor do houses shelter because they are guilt. Nor doth the mettle of the bowl enrich the wine; nor do beds of Gold, or Ivory yield the sweetest sleeps. But you shall many times see rich men want sleep in a bed of Ivory, and under an embroidered coverlet. Besides all your negotiations about meats nourish not better, but corrupt the body, and engender diseases. I omit to speak how many difficultyes men undergo, and suffer, for the satisfaction of their lusts: which were easily cured, were luxury banished; For which men think the common folly, and corruption, not sufficient, unless they pervert the natural use of things; as when they convert their beds into coaches.  Lycinus. 
Who do so?  Cynic. 
You; who employ men like your beasts, to carry you in your sedans, like litters on their shoulders; whilst you sitting delicately aloft, do reign your Porters, like mules, and bid them turn what way you list. And they who do thus most, are held most happy. Then, do not they who use not fishes for food, but to extract rich colours from them, as purple dyers, unnaturally misimploy God's creatures?  Lycinus. 
No; If they can die, as well nourish.  Cynic. 
But they were not ordained for that end. As one may force a cup to the employment of a kettle, but it was not made for that employment. Your miseries are so many, that I cannot stand to recount them all. And yet dare you blame me for not being a partaker? I live like the well-behaved man, I speak of, content with the things next me, and of easiest provision. Not at all alured, by your varities, and dainties. Yet though I need few things, and use as few, my life to you seems brutish. By the same reason the Gods are in worse condition than beasts; for they lack nothing. But that you may know how much better 'tis to need few things than many consider that children lack more things, then grown youths, and women more than men; and the diseased more than the healthy. Briefly, the worse estate wants more than the better. Thus the Gods want nothing, and therefore they nearest approach them who want least. Can you imagine Hercules (the most valiant of men, and deservedly reckoned among the Gods) was miserable when he travelled up and down naked, clothed only with a skin, and lacked none of those things? certainly he could not be miserable, who delivered others from calamity; nor poor, who ruled over land and sea. For wherever he made his assault, he vanquished; nor did he ever meet with his equal, or superior, till he left the conversation of men. Can you think, then that such a one, who thus traversed the world, did want a rug, or shoes? you cannot. But he was temperate, and stout, desired to live frugally; and to avoid pleasure. Was not his scholar Theseus, also, King of the Athenians, Neptune's son, and the bravest man of his time? yet he contemned shoes, and went barefoot, and cherished a long beard, and hair. Nor was it his only, but the practice of all the ancients, who were your betters; and would have brooked the present luxury no more than a Lion will suffer himself to be shorn. Tenderness, and sleeknesse of flesh they thought only became women. They, as they were, still chose to appear men; and held hair as much their ornament, as a mane a horses, or a beard a Lions. To whom, as God hath given somethings for ornament, and beauty, so he hath given beards to men. The ancients, therefore, shall be my example and imitation. Nor do I envy the men of these times for their felicity, full tables, and rich apparel; or because they polish, and smooth all parts of their body, not content with those secret parts as nature sent them. For my part, I wish my feet differed not from horses hooves, as they report of Chiron. Or that I wanted a coverlet no more than Lions, or high fare no more than dogs. Or that any earth, or floor may suffice me for a lodging; That I may think the world my house; That my diett may be that which is easiest purchased; That neither I nor any friend of mine may covet Silver, or Gold: the thirst whereof is the root of all evils, factions, wars, treasons, and slaughters▪ All which have the desire of more for their fountain, and springe. Be, therefore, the itch of abundance far from me; And when I have not sufficient, yet may I be content. This is our doctrine, utterly different from the common received opinions of the most. Nor are you to marvel, that we differ from others in our manners, and course, who differ so much from us in their elections, and choices. Mean time I wonder at you, how you can think there is a certain habit, and behaviour, proper for a fiddler, trumpeter, and player, and do not perceive that there is a garb, and dress proper also for a virtuous man; but think he is to habit himself like the most, though the most be vicious. If, then, good men are to be peculiar in their clothes, what attire is seemlier than that which is most disgraceful to the luxurious, and which they most eschew? 'Tis my bravery, therefore, to wear a slovenly, nasty, patched coat, neglected hair, and to go barefoot. whereas you in your bravery resemble Cinaedo's, from whom you are not to be distinguished, either in the colour, or delicacy of your garments, or the number of your suits, cloaks, or shoes, or the curl, and powderings of your hair. For the most courtly among you smell just like them. And what can he do like a man, who is perfumed like a Pathic? Then, you are as impatient of labour as they, as easily melted with pleasures; you eat, sleep, and go like them; or rather ye refuse to go and are carried, like burdens, some of you by men; others by beasts. My own feet carry me where I list: who am patiented of cold, and heat, and repine not at the seasons which the Gods send; or because they make me miserable. But you, through too much felicity, are content with nothing, but always complain. You loathe the things you have, and desire the things you have not. In winter you wish summer, in summer winter; In heat cold, and in cold heat; like displeased sick folks who are always whining; Only they have their sickness for a cause, you your manners. Would you, then, have us change our course, and rectify our life by yours, who so frequently err in your counsels, and are so indiscreet in your actions, and do nothing with judgement, or discourse, but by custom and appetite? Certainly you differ nothing from men carried by a Torrent; For they are hurried where ever the flood pleaseth, and you where your Lusts. So that you are in his case, who (as they say) ascended the back of a wild horse; The horse ran away with him, and he being in full speed could not alight. And when one met him, and asked whither he road so fast, he said, whithersoever this horse pleaseth▪ So, should one ask you whither you are carried, your answer will be, if you speak truth, wheresoever your affections please. Particularly, sometimes where your pleasure pleaseth; sometimes where your ambition; sometimes where your vainglory; sometimes where your covetousness of gain; sometimes also your rage, sometimes your fear: still some passion or other transports you. You, then, are mounted on the back, not of one but of many wild horses by turns; which hurry you upon steeps, and precipices; yet till you fall you perceive not your danger. Whereas, my patched coat, which you deride, and my hair, and rude accoutrements, have the power to create me a quiet life; to do what I list, and to converse with whom I list. None of the ignorant, or unlearned will approach me for my habits sake. Then effeminate men decline me afar off, only the best wits, modestest men, and lovers of virtue resort to me, in whose company I take delight. Their gates, who are called Great men, I regard not, but look upon their guilt chaplets, and purple, as arguments of their pride, and laugh at the wearers. But that you may know how agreeable my habit is, not only to good men, but to the Gods themselves, (and then laugh if you can) consider their Statues; whom do they most resemble, you or me? go over all the Temples also, both of the greeks, and Barbarians, and consider whether their Gods have long hair, and beards, like me, or are like you, carved, and drawn, trimmed, and shaved. You shall see most of them clothlesse, and naked like me. How dare you, then, speak of my accoutrements, as reproachful, when they become the Gods?   

jupiter Confuted, or, a Discourse of Destiny.  The Speakers, Cyniscus, and Jupiter. Cyniscus. 
FOr my part, jupiter, I will never trouble you with petty petitions for Riches, Gold, or Empire, which most men pray for, but are not easy for you to grant: which makes you deaf to their prayers. My desire is, that you would satisfy me an ordinary request.  jupiter. 
What is't, Cyniscus? Thou shalt not be denied, since thou sayest thy petitions are modest.  Cyniscus. 
'Tis, that you would answer me to a slight question.  jupiter. 
'Tis a small request, and very grantable; Ask, therefore, what thou wilt.  Cyniscus. 
I pray mark, then, jupiter. 'Tis like you have read Homer's, and Hesiod's Poems. Tell me, is all true which they have spoken of Fate, and the Destinies, when they say, that the thread which they spin at every man's nativity is unavoidable?  jupiter. 
'Tis all very true: Nothing is free from their decrees. And whatsoever is done is first rolled upon their spindle: where, from the beginning, all things have their infallible events assigned them, which cannot but come to pass.  Cyniscus. 
When, Homer, then in another part of his Poem says, 
He entered Plutoe's Court though fates forbade:  and the like, we are to take him in jest?  jupiter. 
Yes. For no such thing could be achieved against the Laws of the destinies, or beyond their Line. All things sung by Poets inspired by the Muses are true. But where the inspiration forsakes them, and they are left to themselves, what ever they write is fabulous, and repugnant to their former raptures. Yet are they to be pardoned, if they err, after their dispossession of the God who spoke by them.  Cyniscus. 
Well be it so. Let me ask you one question more. Are there not three Destinies, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos?  jupiter. 
There are.  Cyniscus. 
What are the so much celebrated Fate, and Fortune then? Have they a power equal to the Destinies, or above them? for I hear every body say nothing is more forcible than Chance and Fate.  jupiter. 
'Tis not lawful for thee to know all things, Cyniscus. But why didst thou ask me concerning the Destinies?  Cyniscus. 
First resolve me, jupiter, whether you be under their Empire, and empaled within their line?  jupiter. 
Most necessarily, Cyniscus. Why dost thou smile?  Cyniscus. 
That passage of Homer is come to my mind, where, in a Parliament of the Gods, he brings you in, uttering this threatening speech; That with your golden chain you would draw up all things to you. For there you say, That you would let down a chain from Heaven, with which, should all the Gods with all their force strive to pull you down, they were not able, but if you listed you could easily draw all them up with the earth, and sea. When I read this, I apprehended you of an admirable strength, and trembled at the Verses. But now I see both you, and your chain, and great threats, by your confession, hang upon a slender Thread. Methinks, therefore, Clotho might with more reason pronounce your brag, who seeth you hang aloft at her distaff, like fishes at an Angle.  jupiter. 
I understand not the drift of your questions.  Cyniscus. 
By the destinies, and Fate, then, I desire you will hear me speak free truths, without impatience, or choler. If the case stand so, that the destinies rule all, and that nothing which they have once decreed can be altered, why do we men sacrifice to you Gods, and offer up Heccatombes with our prayers that you would drop benefits on us? I see no fruit of our devotions, if by our petitions we cannot divert evils, nor receive good from you.  jupiter. 
I now know from whence you have borrowed your subtle inquiries; from those accursed Sophisters who say, we exercise no providence over men; and by such impious questions as these dissuade men from their sacrifices, and prayers, as from vanities: maintaining that we take no care of your actions, nor indeed can do any thing in earthly affairs. But they shall not long triumph in their discourses.  Cyniscus. 
I swear by Clotho's spindle, jupiter, no persuasion taken from them hath been the ground of my questions: But the progress of our conference hath, I know not how, driven me to think sacrifices are needless. Let me, therefore, without your disturbance, crave your resolution to one brief question more; and consider of your answer.  jupiter. 
If thou be at leisure to trifle, propose it.  Cyniscus. 
Do all things happen, say you, by destiny?  jupiter. 
I affirm it.  Cyniscus. 
And is't not in your power to change, and un-spinne their decrees?  jupiter. 
By no means.  Cyniscus. 
May I, with your leave, from hence make inferences, and clear, or not clear, report what you say?  jupiter 
'Tis clear, that we are not sacrificed to out of any necessity, but for hope of returns: so that men adore us either, to buy benefits of us, or out of a virtuous love to religion.  Cyniscus. 
And this you think sufficient, and affirm, that profit is not the cause of oblations, but the piety of some men, who honour what is best: But if a Sophister were present, he would ask, why you style the Gods best, since they are but fellow servants with men, and subjects to the same mistresses, and Destinies. You will not say their condition is better, because they are immortal. For 'tis so much the worse. Since death, if nothing else shifts men into liberty. But your thraldom is endless, and your servitude is eternal, and drawn out into an everlasting thread.  Jupiter. 
But this endless perpetuity, Cyniscus, is our happiness, who live in a full fruition of all good things.  Cyniscus. 
You are not all happy alike, jupiter, but your felicities are distinguished by their perturbations: you perchance are happy, being King of the Gods, and able, by the demission of a cord, to draw up earth, and sea. But Vulcan, mean time, is a lame, sullied, mechanical Smith: Prometheus, also, was once crucified. I speak not now of your father, who lies shackled in Hell. They report of your loves, and wounds, and prenticeships to men: Your brother hired by Laomedon; and Apollo by Admetus: Employments in my judgement not very happy. So that some of you seem happy, and of prosperous estate, others not. I forbear to mention how you are robbed, like us, and suffer sacrilege, and the wealthyest of you in an instant beggars. Besides, many of you who are gold, and silver, and were decreed to it, are cast, and melted.  jupiter. 
You may speak reproachfully of us, Cyniscus, and may hereafter repent it.  Cyniscus. 
Spare your threats, jupiter; you know I can suffer nothing to which I am not predestinated by the Fates. They who rob your Temples are not yet punished, but have most of them escaped you; being, I suppose, decreed not to be caught.  jupiter. 
Did I not say thou wert one of those, who by their discourses overthrow providence?  Cyniscus. 
You are over causelessly suspicious, jupiter; and take what ever I say for their doctrine. From whom can I learn these truths, but from you? I would gladly, therefore, ask you, what you mean by your providence. Is it one of the Destinies, or some Goddess superior to them as their Queen?  jupiter. 
I told thee before, 'twas not fit for thee to know such things. And thou at first didst promise to ask but one Question; yet proceedest to trouble me with frivolous doubts. I see the aim of thy discourse is to demonstrate that our providence is not busied in humane affairs.  Cyniscus. 
'Tis not my aim. But you said a little before, there were Destinies, who governed all things. Unless you repent, and recant your words, and intent to erect your providence by the expulsion of Fate.  jupiter. 
No such matter, Sir. Fa●e does all things by us.  Cyniscus. 
I understand you: you confess yourselves, then, the servants and ministers of the Fates; They decree, and order things, and you are their instruments, and Tools.  jupiter. 
How mean you?  Cyniscus. 
Just as a Hatchet assists a carpenter in his trade, and an Augwer cooperates; yet no man will say they are Artificers. Nor is a ship the work of the Axe, or Augwer, but of the Shipwright. So Fate is the Carpenter of all things, you are but the Wimbles, and Axes of the Destinies. In reason, therefore, men should sacrifice to Fate, and thence implore benefits; and not make their addresses to you, or strive to render you propitious by veneration, and honours. Nay, in strictness, they ought not to adore fate. For, I suppose, 'tis not in the power of the Destinies to change or alter any decree they have once made. Nor will Atropos permit any to wrest her distaff another way, or unwind what Clotho hath spun.  jupiter. 
So then, you maintain, Cyniscus, that the sisters themselves are not to be adored by men, and cast all things into a confusion. Yet we, if for nothing else, yet for our Oracles, and pre-interpretations of these Decrees, which the fates have made, deserve to be worshipped.  Cyniscus. 
The foreknowledge of future events, Jupiter, is utterly fruitless, if by observation they be impossible to be avoided: unless you hold that one foretold he shall be slain by the point of a spear, may defeat his death by shutting himself up, which is impossible. For his destiny will draw him forth to hunt, and expose him to a dart. So Adrastus spear being aimed at a bore, shall miss, and slay Croesus' son, as if directed to him by the powerful ordinance of the fates. That forewarning, also, given to Laius was ridiculous, which bid him not beget a son against the allowance of the Gods; if he did, his child should slay him. For I hold such precautions no armour against necessary events. For after the oracle he begot a son who did slay him. I see no reason, therefore, why you should require to be paid for your predictions. I forbear to speak of the cross, double-sensed oracles, which you have uttered to many; Not clearly expressing whether Croesus, passing Halys, should ruin his own, or Cyrus' Empire. For the oracle carries both constructions.  Jupiter. 
Apollo, Cyniscus, had a just cause of quarrel against Croesus, for mingling the flesh of a Tortoise with that of a sheep in sacrifice to him.  Cyniscus. 
But it became not a God to quarrel. I therefore, rather think the Lydian was decree▪ d to be deceived by the oracle; and Fate long before had so spun his thread, that he was not clearly to understand the prophecy. So that your predictions are but a part of Destiny.  ●upiter. 
Thou leavest us nothing to do then, but makest us Gods in vain, neither busied in the ordering of humane affairs, nor worthy of sacrifices, like so many Awgers, and Axes. Then thou takest a privilege to contemn us, because, being armed with thunder, I suffer thee thus to blaspheme us.  Cyniscus. 
Discharge your bolt, jupiter; If I be predestined to be struck with thunder, I will not accuse you for the blow, but Clotho, who wounded me with your hand: nor will I charge your thunder with my stroke. But pray let me inquire of you, and destiny, and do you answer for both to a question, which your threats have suggested to me: why do you spare so many sacrilegious, thievish, blasphemous, oppressing, perjured men, and so often strike an innocent oak, or stone, or sail of a ship with lightning? Nay, many times, an innocent, religious traveller. Why are you silent, jupiter? Is it not lawful for me to know this neither?  jupiter. 
'Tis not Cyniscus; yet thou art still curious, and comest prepared, (I know not how set on) to perplex me with scruples.  Cyniscus. 
Nor is it permitted to inquire of you, and Providence, and Fate, why the excellent Phocian, and before him, Aristides, died in such extreme want, and necessity; and Callias, and Alcibiades, luxurious young men, flowed with riches. Midias, also, the insolent, and Charops of Aeginar a Pathike, who slew his mother with famine. Again, why Socrates was delivered up to the eleven Judges, and not Melitus. Lastly, why effeminate Sardanaphalus was a King; and why so many honest, and virtuous Persians' were crucified by him, because they distasted his Actions. I cannot now stand to go over all particulars, or recount how wicked men prosper, and abound with wealth; and how good men are carried, and tossed with poverty, and afflicted with diseases, and a thousand mischiefs.  jupiter. 
You know not, Cyniscus, what punishments are reserved after this life for the wicked, or what felicities for the Good.  Cyniscus. 
You mean Hell, Titius', and Tantalus'. Things, whose clear knowledge I expect to have in the next world. Let me be happy all the time I live here, and let sixteen vultures feed upon my liver after I am dead. But let me not pine with thirst here, like Tantalus, and drink with Hero's, in the Lands of the blessed when I am placed in the Elysian meadows hereafter.  jupiter. 
Dost thou not believe, then, that there are such punishments, and rewards, and a court of justice, where every man's life shall be examined?  Cyniscus. 
I hear one Minos, a Cretan, is judge below in such causes: pray tell me, is there any such officer there? The report goes he is your son.  jupiter. 
What wouldst thou know of him, Cyniscus?  Cyniscus. 
Whom doth he punish?  jupiter. 
Malefactors, such as murderers, and Church robbers.  Cyniscus. 
Whom doth he admit among the Heroes?  jupiter. 
Good men, and religious, who have lived a life of virtue.  Cyniscus. 
Why so, jupiter?  jupiter. 
Because the one deserves honour, the other torments.  Cyniscus. 
But if one commit an offence against his will, is he in justice to be punished too?  jupiter. 
By no means.  Cyniscus. 
Nor if one do good against his will, is he to be thought worthy of honour?  jupiter. 
'Tis true.  Cyniscus. 
It belongs not, then, to Minos either to reward any man, or punish him.  jupiter 
How not any man?  Cyniscus 
Because we men do nothing voluntarily, but as we are moved by an inevitable necessity; supposing that to be true which you granted before, That Fate is the cause of all things. If, therefore, one man kill another, fate is the murderer. If any man commit sacrilege, he was enforced by his destiny. If, therefore, Minos would order his sentences aright, he should punish fate for Sisyphus; and destiny for Tantalus. Since they could not offend who were merely obedient, and passive.  jupiter. 
I hold it not fit to answer thee to such questions. For thou art a bold fellow, and a Sophister. And so for the present I leave thee.  Cyniscus. 
I meant to ask you, where the destinies dwell, and how, being but three, they can exactly order such numberless affairs. For to me their life, amidst such various employments, seems laborious, and unfortunate; and they themselves, borne under no very propitious destiny. ay, therefore, were I put to my election, would not change my life for theirs; but would rather choose to live yet poorer, then sit spinning at their distaff, and observe the numerous businesses with which they are surrounded. But if you cannot well reply to these Inquiries, jupiter, I will content myself with your other answers; and the revelations which your conference hath made of fate, and providence, shall suffice. Perchance I am not decreed to hear the rest.   

The Parasite.  The Speakers, Tychiades, and a Parasite. Tychiades 
What's the reason, Simo, since all other men, both free, and servants, are skilled in some art, by which they are useful to themselves and others, you, (for aught I see) betake yourself to no employment, which may benefit either yourself, or others?  Parasite. 
How mean you, Tychiades, I understand you not, speak clearlier.  Tychiades. 
Are you skilled in any profession, as music?  Parasite. 
By jupiter, not I  Tychiades. 
What then, Physic?  Parasite. 
Neither.  Tichiades. 
Nor Geometry?  Parasite. 
Not at all.  Tychiades. 
What then, Rhetoric? you are as great a stranger to Philosophy as vice is.  Parasite. 
A greater, if greater may be. Think not therefore, you upbraid one ignorant of his own ill education. I confess myself a sluggard, and am much worse than you take me.  Tychiades. 
Perhaps you have learned none of these sciences by reason of their subtlety, and hardness. But what mechanical art have you been taught; Masonry, or Shoomaking? methinks you are not of that quality, as to be utterly without a trade.  Parasite. 
You say true, Tychiades. But I have learned no such occupation.  Tychiades. 
What other occupation, then?  Parasite. 
What? In my opinion a very generous one; which when you hear, I believe you will praise. I express it in practice, but not in language to you.  Tychiades. 
What is●t?  Parasite. 
I have not exactly studied the descriptions of it. But that I am of a profession you may easily perceive, and trouble me no farther, what 'tis you shall know some other time.  Tychiades. 
I am impatient of delay.  Parasite. 
'Twill seem a paradox to you.  Tychiades. 
I long so much the more to know it.  Parasite. 
Hereafter, Tychiades.  Tychiades. 
Tell me now, if you be not ashamed.  Parasite. 
'Tis Parasitry.  Tychiades. 
Is any man so mad, Simo, to call this an art?  Parasiite. 
I do. If, therefore, you think me mad, because I have learned no other art, let my madness be my excuse for this, and chide me no farther. For they say, though madness be otherwise troublesome to the distempered, yet 'tis the advocate of their errors, and takes their faults upon itself as the Author and cause.  Tychiades. 
But is Parasitry, say you, Simo, an Art then?  Parasite. 
A very science; And I am the first inventour.  Tychiades. 
So than you are a Parasite?  Parasite. 
You are pleased to abuse me, Tychiades.  Tychiades. 
You blush not to call yourself so.  Parasite. 
No. I should blush if I did not.  Tychiades. 
When we would, then, tell those who know not who you are, we shall say you are a Parasite?  Parasite. 
I had much rather you should call me so, then Phidias the statuary. Nor do I joy less in my Art, than he in his jupiter.  Tychiades. 
One thing will (in my apprehension) follow hereupon most ridiculous.  Parasite. 
What is't?  Tychiades. 
If in our superscriptions (as the manner is) we direct our letters to Simo the Parasite.  Parasite. 
You shall more oblige me, then if you endorsed them to Dion the Philosopher.  Tychiades. 
How will you relish the compellation? 'Tis below my care. But one absurd thing more is to be considered.  Parasite. 
What is't?  Tychiades. 
If we should reckon this among other sciences. As if one should ask, What Art 'tis, and we should answer as we do of Grammar, or Physic, 'tis Parasitry.  Parasite. 
I will maintain this, Tychiades, to be more an Art, than any other, if you will hear me speak as I think; Though, as I said before, I have not studied my preparations.  Tychiades. 
Truth shall pass for premeditation.  Parasite. 
First, then, if please you, let us in general define what art is; so shall we in particular know whether this be rightly one or no.  Tychiades. 
What is Art, then, do you know?  Parasite. 
Very well.  Tychiades. 
If you know, define it.  Parasite. 
Art (as I remember it described by a certain wise man) is a System of precepts, got by practice, conducing to some end profitable to life.  Tyciades. 
You remember his definition right.  Parasite. 
If Parasitry, then, partake of all the parts of the definition, what is it but an Art?  Tychiades. 
If it do, 'tis a very Art.  Parasite. 
Well, then. With application of Parasitry, to all the kinds of Art, let us examine whether it consent with that definition; or whether, like faulty pots struck it sound crazed. This, then, like all other Arts, aught to contain a System of precepts. The first is to find out, and choose one who is fit to feed a Parasite; and so to feed him as not to cast him off. For shall we say that a Goldsmith by his art knows how to distinguish what coins are adulterate, and what not; and that a Parasite without art can distinguish what men are adulterate, and who are currant; especially since men, like coins, cannot be known but by the touch? 'tis a thing which the wise Euripides complains of, saying, 
How we may ill men know,  
No marks of body show.  So that more art is required in a Parasite, to discern and know by a kind of divination things to abstruse, and unevident. Is it not, think you, a great piece of precept, and institution, to know how to speak winning language, and by insinuation of behaviour to steal into the familiarity, and affection of his patron?  Tychiades. 
‛ Tis.  Parasite. 
Then, do you think 'tis not a work of great discourse, and wisdom to depart from feasts with double shares, and preferred before those who have not the Art?  Tychiades. 
‛ Tis.  Parasite. 
Then, can any man unskilled know the virtues, and faults of diet, and the curiosity of victuals? especially after that Oracle delivered by the most excellent Plato; He that will make a feast, and is not a good Cook, hath small judgement in entertainments. Next, that Parasitry consists not in precept only, but in practice too, you may easily from hence learn. The precepts of other Arts lie days, and nights, and months, and years sometimes unpractised; yet they, whose arts they are, lose not their habits. But if the rules of a Parasite be not kept in daliy exercise, not only the art but the Artificer too is lost. Lastly, whether it have an end profitable to life, were madness to doubt; since I find nothing more conducible to life than to eat and drink, without which 'twere not possible to live.  Tychiades. 
'Tis very true.  Parasite. 
Parasitry, then is not such a thing as beauty, or, strength; which seem not to be an Art, but some such like power.  Tychiades. 
You say true.  Parasite. 
'Tis not then void of Art. If it were, it would not profit the owner. If you should commit yourself in a ship to the sea, in a Tempest, and knew not how to steer, could you be safe?  Tychiades. 
No, certainly.  Parasite. 
What's the reason? is't not because you lack skill to preserve yourself.  Tychiades. 
Yes.  Parasite. 
So, then, a Parasite, if he lack skill, cannot preserve himself by his parasitry.  Tychiades. 
'Tis true.  Parasite. 
By Art, then, he is preserved; by want of Art, not?  Tychiades. 
I grant it.  Parasite. 
Parasitry then is an Art?  Tychiades. 
It seems so.  Parasite. 
I have often known expert Riders, and Charioteers cast from their box, bruised, and very much maimed; but none can tell of a wracked Parasite. If, therefore, Parasitry be not artless, nor a bare faculty, but a System of precepts got by practice we must acknowledge it to be an Art.  Tychiades. 
As far as I conceive ' 'tis. But, then, you are to assign some genuine definition of Parasitry.  Parasite. 
You say well. Methinks the best definition of it is this. Parasitry is an Art of meats, and drinks, and of the things to be done and said for them, whose end is pleasure.  Tychiades. 
In my opinion you have most excellently defined your Art. But, then, you are to consider whether a debate will not arise between you, and some Philosophers, about your end.  Parasite. 
'Tis enough that Felicity, and Parasitry have the same end, as they manifestly have. For the wise Homer, admiring a Parasites, as the only happy, and to be envied life, says, 
No greater happiness can be desired,  
Then when all people are with mirth inspired,  
When tables swell with cheer, and Bowls are crowned,  
With rich wines which go in Carouses round.  A little after, as if he had not sufficiently expressed his admiration, he delivers his opinion more fully; saying excellently, 
This seems to me the top and height of Bliss.  Intimating thereby that he thought there was no happiness comparable to that of a Parasite. Nor is this said there by a vulgar person, but by the wisest in the Poem. For had Ulysses meant to prefer the Stoic end, he had opportunity, when he fetched Phelocletes from Lemnos, and when he sacked Troy, and when he stayed the Greeks from flight, and when he entered Troy having whipped himself, and going ragged, and torn like a Stoic. But he than mentioned no such end as best. Nor did he, when he lived an Epicurean with Calypso, where he spent his time in a voluptuous Idleness, and enjoyed the loose embraces of Atlas' daughter, prefer this as the happiest life, but the life of Parasites: who in those times were called Feasters. For what says he? The verses deserve to be again quoted, nor can they be heard as they ought without repetition, 
Let all the the Feasters sit in feast-like row,  
And let the board▪ with cheer, and Viands flow.  Epicurus, then, impudently enough took his end from Parasitry, and made it the same with his Felicity: which is a plain theft. For that pleasure belongs to us, not to Epicurus, you may thus learn. First, I hold pleasure to be a composed tranquillity of the body. Next, an even calmness, and want of tempest in the mind. Both which are attained by Parasite, neither by an Epicurean: who holding disputes of the figure of the Earth, of infinite worlds, of the bigness of the Sun, of distances, of the first principles, of the Gods, whether they be, or be not, and of the end itself, is in a perpetual war, and disagreement with others; and perplexed, not only with humane, but with mundane subtiletyes also. Whereas a Parasite, content with the state of things, as they are, and believing they cannot be better, with all security, and quietness, unvexed with such scruples, eats, and sleeps sound, stretched out both hands, and feet, like Ulysses sailing homewards. The Epicurean, then, hath no title to pleasure, not only for the forementioned reasons, but for those which follow. For what wise man soever he be, either he hath something to eat, or he hath not. If he have not, his life will be so far from pleasant, that he cannot live at all. If he have, either 'tis his own, or another's. If he have his diet from another, he is a Parasite, and not the man he boasts himself. If he have it from himself, he lives not pleasantly.  Tychiades. 
How not pleasantly?  Parasite. 
If he provide his own meals, Tychiades, many things must necessarily accompany such a life. For you are to consider, that he who intends to live a life of pleasure, must satisfy all his desires as they rise. What say you?  Tychiades. 
I think so.  Parasite. 
A matter, perhaps, to one of great possessions not over difficult; but to one of small, or none at all, impossible, so that a poor man cannot be wise, nor achieve his end, I mean pleasure. Nay this is an end, not to be attained by a rich man, be he never so indulgent to his desires. What's the reason? Because he who lives at his own charge, is liable to many disquiets. Sometimes he is to beat his Cook for the ill dressing of his meat. If he beat him not, he is to eat his meat ill●drest, and so miss his pleasure. Sometimes he is to quarrel with his Steward for the ill ordering of his household Accounts. Is not this true?  Tychiades. 
In all appearance to me.  Parasite. 
The case, then, standing thus with the Epicurean, 'tis not possible, he should enjoy his end. Whereas the Parasite hath no Cook to quarrel with, nor Farm, nor Steward, nor money to vex him. Yet hath all things, and is the only man who eats and drinks, disturbed with none of the encumbrances which trouble others. That Parasitry, then, is an Art hath been sufficiently demonstrated by these, and former arguments. It now remains that I prove it to be the best Art; not simply, but first, that it excels all Arts in general; next, in particular. In general it excels them thus. The study of all other Arts carries with it labour, fears, and stripes; Things which never any but hated. Only the Art, which I profess, is learned without toil. For who ever went weeping from a feast, as we see many Schoolboys? or who ever went to a Feast with a sad look, like those who go to school? A Parasite willingly frequents entertainments, and most coveteously pursues his Art. They who learn other sciences, hate their own studies, and some turn Apostates. Then you are to consider, that in other Arts, parents reward those children, who excel, with the same honours as they daily reward us Parasites. The boy, say they, writes a fair hand, give him his dinner. He writes ill, let him fast. Then the consequence of other Arts is not to bear pleasant fruits till they be throughly learned; A thing of much industry, and weariness, whereas Parasitry of all other professions reaps the harvest of its Art in the Learning; And at once begins to be, and to be in its perfection. Again, not some, but all other Arts were merely invented for maintenance. Only a Parasites maintenance flows to him at first. Do you not see the husbandman plough his field, not for the mere tillage sake? And the Architect build a house, not that he may merely build? But a Parasite drives at nothing else; That very thing which is his work being the end for which his work is due. Besides, none, I suppose, are ignorant, that they who are busied in other professions, live wretchedly, and keep only one, or at least two days in a month holy, as they are yearly, or monthly appointed by their City; which they dedicate to refreshments. But the whole thirty days of the month are festival to the Parasite, as so many holidays of the Gods. Again, they, who mean to excel in other professions, use a spare and slender diet, like sick patients; since full tables are disadvantages to proficiency. Then all other Arts, are of no use to the professors without instruments, and tools. No man can wind a Cornet without a Cornet; or sing to the Harp without a Harp; or show his horsemanshippe without a horse. But my Art is so perfect, and so cheap to the Artificer, that without other helps 'tis sufficient. And whereas we pay for our learning of other Arts, for this we are paid. Again, other Arts have their Teachers: But Parasitry cannot be taught. But as Socrates says of Poetry, It come● by Destiny, and Fate. Then, consider, that other Arts lose their Employment, when we travail, or sail, but this serves all places.  Tychiades. 
'Tis very true.  Parasite. 
Then, Tychiades, all other Arts seem to borrow from this, but this from none.  Tychiades. 
But tell me, is it not, think you, injustice to take another's goods?  Parasite. 
Who doubts it?  Tychiades. 
How, then, can another's meat render you Parasites innocent?  Parasite. 
I cannot answer you. But the grounds of other Arts are mean, and base; But the ground of mine is generous, and noble. For you shall find the much celebrated name of friendship to be the foundation of Parasitry?  Tychiades. 
How do you mean?  Parasite. 
That no man invites an enemy, or stranger, or one of ordinary acquaintance to his table. But he must first be an intimate friend, that partakes of his meals, and board, and of the mysteries of this Art. I have often heard some say, what friend can he be, who did never eat, or drink with us? As if they held him only a faithful friend with whom they had conversed in diet. Now that this is the Queen of Arts, you may thus easily inform yourself. Others labour, and sweat, and sit, and stand to their business, like so many slaves of their profession. A Parasite, having his Art in subjection, sits at table like a Prince; whose happiness 'twere needless to recount; since, according to the wise Homer, he neither plants, nor ploughs, but without sowing, or tillage, reaps all things. Then, 'tis permitted to an Orator, or Geometrician, or Brazier to exercise his Art, though he be a Knave, or Fool. But no man can be a Parasite who is either.  Tychiades. 
Trust me, you have made Parasitry such a treasure, that I could almost change my course, and turn Parasite.  Parasite. 
How it excels, then, all other professions in general, I have sufficiently shown. Let us now see how it excels them in particular. To compare it with Mechanical Arts were foolish, and a Diminution of its worthiness. I am to show, therefore, how it excels the greatest and best sciences. 'Tis confessed by all, that Rhetoric, and Philosophy are for their knowledge, and worth, most preferred. If, therefore, I show that parasitry excels them, 'twill be clear that it excels all other sciences as much as Nausicaa excelled her handmaids. In general, then, it far surpasses both Rhetoric, and Philosophy. First for its certainty, and Independance. For Parasitry subsists of itself, they not. For all do not take Rhetoric to be one and the same thing; but some hold it to be an Art; some none, but an abuse of Art. Some maintain it to be one thing, some another. The like opinions pass of Philosophy. That of Epicurus is divers from that of the Gate; and that of the Stoic from that of the Academy: Briefly, Philosophy is various, according to the variety of Philosophers, who were never yet reconciled in opinions, or appeared to be of one sect. From whence I plainly infer, That originally that is not an Art which is not able to subsist. For why is Arithmetic every where one and the same? and why do twice two make four, both with us, and Persians, without any variation either among Greeks, or Barbarians? But we see great differences of Philosophy, without any agreement either in their principles or ends.  Tychiades. 
You say true: even they who affirm there is but one Philosophy, have made it divers.  Parasite. 
In other professions he that with pardon passeth over some repugnances, as indifferent, and some variable principles, is not altogether to be blamed. But who will allow of Philosophy as necessary, which is as various and disagreeing to itself, as mistuned instruments. Philosophy then, cannot be one, because I see 'tis numberless: nor can it be many, because 'tis one. The like may be said of Rhetoric, of which divers speak diversely, and hold a war of opinions; which is a clear proof, that if it were built on any sure principle, 'twould fall under comprehension. For to dispute which opinion were truest, and not acknowledge Rhetoric to be one, were to destroy its subsistence. 'Tis otherwise with Parasitry, which is one among Greeks, and Barbarians, and every where the same, and like itself. Nor can it be said that some are one way Parasites, some another. Nor are there sects among us, as there are Stoics and Epicureans of opposite doctrines among Philosophers; but all are everywhere of one profession, and united in the agreement of our business, and end. So that in my judgement, by that which hath been said, there is no true wisdom but Parasitry.  Tychiades. 
'Tis a plain demonstration. But how will you prove that philosophy in other things is inferior to Parasitry.  Parasite. 
First, 'tis manifest, that never any Parasite studied Philosophy; but many Philosophers have studied Parasitry, and still do.  Tychiades. 
Can you name any?  Parasite. 
You know them well enough, Tychiades, but dissemble your knowledge, lest you should more contribute to their infamy, than reputation.  Tychiades. 
By jupiter, not I, Simo; and therefore, I long much to hear some examples.  Parasite. 
Now I perceive you ignorant in their writings, who have recorded their lives, where you may fully know whom I mean.  Tychiades. 
By Hercules, I extremely desire to hear who they are.  Parasite. 
I'll tell you, then; and will select no vulgar instances but some of the highest mark, and whom you would least suspect. Eschines the Socratic, who wrote the long facete Dialogues, came into Sicily with a purpose to be known by them to Dyonisius: To whom having read his Miltiades, much to his reputation, he made his future abode in the Island, and became Parasite to the Tyrant; renouncing the disputations of Socrates. What think you of Aristippus, the Cyrenaean? Was he not one of the approved Philosophers?  Tychiades. 
Yes.  Parasite. 
He too, about that time, lived at Syracuse, Parasite to Dyonisius; and was of all his other flatterers of greatest esteem with him; as being more naturally than others framed for the profession. So that Dyonisius daily sent his purveyors to him to be instructed, being one so able to manage, and order the Employment. Your most generous Plato came into Sicily with the like purpose, and was for a while Parasite to the Tyrant, but for want of a Genius to the art was cashiered, and returned to Athens; where with much industry enabling himself, he sailed the second time into Sicily, where after some few days entertainments he was for his unskilfulness rejected. And the misfortune which befell Plato in Sicily, is like that which befell Nicias.  Tychiades. 
Who, Simo, reports this?  Parasite. 
Many. Among others Aristoxenus the Musician; a man worthy of belief, who was also parasite to Neleus. You cannot but know that Euripides, during his life, was parasite to Archelaus, and Anaxarchus to Alexander. Aristotle, also, begun a Tract of parasitry, as he hath of other Sciences. That Philosophers, then, have studied parasitry, I have sufficiently proved. But no man can give instance of a parasite who studied Philosophy. If, therefore, it be felicity not to feel hunger, thirst, or cold, none are happy but parasites. For you may see many Philosophers half starved, and frozen, but not one parasite. Otherwise, he were not a parasite, but a fellow as wretched, and beggarly as a Philosopher.  Tychiades. 
'Tis evident. But will you demonstrate that parasitry excels, Philosophy, and Rhetoric in other things.  Parasite. 
The life of men (if I be not deceived) consists in the seasons of peace, and war. Both which plainly discover what arts, and their professors are. First, then, (if you please) let us consider the times of war, and see who are likely to be of most use to themselves, and the public?  Tychiades. 
You commit men ordinarily disjoined: nor can I choose but laugh when I think how a philosopher will show, brought into comparison with a parasite.  Parasite. 
To abate your wonder, and let you see that 'tis no matter of sport, I will draw you a case. News is brought that the enemy is unexpectedly entered a country; which without sudden resistance, cannot be preserved from depopulation. The General calls all of fit age to a muster, and lets the rest depart. Among these are mustered Philosophers, Rhetoricians, and parasites. We all strip ourselves. For they who are to be armed are first to be seen naked. Consider us, then in particular, and take a view of our bodies, and you will see some of them lean, pale, and shrunk with poverty, like so many maimed Soldiers. And were it not ridiculous to say such men were able to endure a battle, or pitched field, or an assault, or Dust, or wounds, who need diet, and refreshment? But take a survey of a Parasite, do●h he not carry the appearance of a strong body, and lusty colour, neither swarthy, nor pale, neither inclining to a woman, or a slave? Then, he is stout of courage, and terrible of aspect; the inseparable marks of our quality 'Twere against policy to send one of a timorous, effeminate look to the wars. One of us, then, either alive, or dead, would be an ornament to his arms. But why make I comparisons, having such clear examples? since to speak freely, few Rhetoricians, or Philosophers have in times of war ventured beyond their walls. If any have, I dare say, they forsook their ranks, and fled back again.  Tychiades 
Your promises are high, and not vulgar.  Parasite. 
Thus, then, I proceed. Isocrates the Rhetorician never went to war, nor indeed ever pleaded in a Judicial Court; disheartened, I believe, by his fears, and the unfitness of his elocution, and voice. Did not Demades, and Eschines, and Philocrates, frighted with his proclamation of war betray both their City, and themselves to Philip, and ever after lived his agents at Athens, where every Athenian that followed their example in war was of their friendship? then, though Hyperides, and Demosthenes, and Lycurgus, were in show valiant, and spkae blustering Orations, and invectives against Philip, what famous exploit did they perform in that expedition against him? Hyperides, and Lycurgus went not forth, nor durst peep out of their Gates; but like self-besiegers kept within the walls, and ordered the decrees, and counsels. Their great champion Demosthenes, indeed, who in his Orations had wont to say that Phillippe was the ruin of the Macedonians, and that they were not fit to be bought for slaves, adventured to march as far as Boeotia. But before the Armies joined, and came to battle, he threw away his shield, and fled. You cannot but have heard this from others, being a story so well known, not only to the Athenians, but to the Thracians, and Sythians, from whence the Coward was descended.  Tychiades. 
All this I know. But these were Orators, whose profession was to make Speeches, not to fight. what say you of Philosophers? You cannot accuse them of cowardice too, like the others.  Parasite. 
They, Tychiades, though they daily dispute of fortitude, and even wear out the name of valour, are more cowardly than Orators. For, first, consider that no man can tell of a Philosopher slain in war. Or of any that bore Arms, or, if they did, that did not run away. Antisthenes', and Diogenes, and Crates, and Zeno, and Plato, and Eschines, and Aristotle, and the whole rout of them never saw a Camp. Only their sage Socrates, adventuring forth to a skirmish in the City, fled from Parnethe to the wrestling place of Taureus. Holding it much the better piece of wit, there sprucely to converse with young boys, and inveigle them with sophisms, then to enter battle with a stout Spartan.  Tychiades. 
I have heard as much from others, who had no purpose to traduce or slander them; which makes me think you belie them not in favour of your own profession. Proceed, therefore, to your description of a parasite in war; and show what ancient Commanders have been parasites.  Parasite. 
No man is so unskilled in Homer, or so unlettered, as not to know that his bravest Hero's were parasites. Nestor, from whose tongue language flowed like Honey, was the King's parasite. Nor do we read that Agamemnon praised, or admired Achilles (though of a divine presence, and strength of Body) or Diomedes, or Ajax, like Nestor. Nor doth he wish he had ten Ajax's, or ten Achilles'. But he had long before sacked Troy, had he had ten such Soldiers as this aged parasite was. Which, also, confirms Idomeneus, though descended of jupiter, to have been Agamemnon's parasite.  Tychiades. 
This I know too. Yet I am not satisfied how these two worthies were Agamemnon's parasites.  Parasite. 
Remember the verses in which he bespeaks Idomeneus.  Tychiades. 
Which are they?  Parasite. 

Thy bowl stands always crowned, like mine,  
Ready to drown thy thirst with sprightly wine.   
Where he says, his bowl stood always crowned, not as if Idomeneus Cup stood always filled for him, fighting, or sleeping; but because he always had the honour to diet with the King. Whereas the other Commanders had but their days of invitation. So Ajax, after his valiant duel with Hector was (says Homer) brought to the Divine Agamemnon, and by him honoured with a late supper. Whereas Idomeneus, and Nestor, (as he affirms) were of the King's daily table. Only Nestor seems to me the more expert, and artificial parasite, who begun not to practise his art towards Agamemnon, but long before towards Coeneus, and Exadius, and left not off till Agamemnon's death.  Tychiades. 
Truly, he was an Heroic Parasite. If you know any more such, produce them.  Parasite. 
What was Patroclus, but Achilles' Parasite? A young Lord not inferior to any other Greek, either for soul or body? Nay, as far as I can conjecture by his deeds, he was not inferior to Achilles himself. For when Hector broke open their Gates, entered their works, and fought in sight of their navy, he repelled him, quenched Protesilaus ship then burning, and having aboard it no Cowards, but the two sons of Telamonius, Ajax expert at his spear, and Teucer at his bow. He slew also, many of the Barbarians; among which Sarpedon, the son of jupiter fell by the hand of Achilles' Parasite: And when he was himself slain, he died not like others, or as Hector did, by the single hand of Achilles, and Achilles by the single shaft of Paris; but a God, and two men went to his slaughter. And at his expiration, no speeches came from him, like those of Hector, who fell down, and besought Achilles that his dead body might be restored to his friends, but such as became a Parasite.  Tychiades. 
What were they.  Parasite. 
Come twenty more such, with Darts cloud the Air;  
And be the conquest of my hand and spear.  Tychiades. 
Enough. Now show that Patroclus was not Achilles' Friend, but Parasite.  Parasite. 
I will produce Patroclus, Tychiades, saying as much of himself.  Tychiades. 
You speak wonders.  Parasite. 
Listen to his own words.  

Let not, Achilles, my bones lie from thine,  
As one house fed us, let one Tomb combine.   
And again a little after, 
Pelius thy Sire,  
Fed me at's hoard, and called me still thy Squire;   
That is, Parasite. For had he meant to call him Friend, he would never have called him Squire; for Patroclus was nobly descended. Those, therefore, whom he calls Squires, were neither servants nor friends, but manifest Parasites. So he styles Meriones Idomeneus, Squire; Which I suppose was the common name for Parasites. Where observe, that Homer vouchsafes not to equal Idomeneus, though jupiters' son, to Mar●, but Meriones, his Parasite. Was not Aristogiton the popular, and poor, as Thucydides styles him, Parasite to Harmodius? Nay was he not his favourite? For parasites are their favourites who feed them. This parasite, when a Tyranny was growing over the City of Athens, restored it to Liberty; and now (after his effeminacies) stands in a statue of Brass, erected to him in the market place. Such famous examples have there been of parasites. By this time, then, you may imagine what kind of Soldier a parasite is in war. He never enters his files, but breaks his Fast first, like Ulysses. And though he be to fight never so early in the morning, he will not fight empty. And the time which other Soldiers spend fearfully in putting on their Arms, one his Helmet, another his Breastplate, tremblingly suspicious of the misfortunes of war, he cheerfully spends in eating, and marching with the foremost is presently ready for encounter: whilst his patron, who feeds him, closely follows at his back; whom, as Ajax did Teucer, he covers with his shield, and warding off the enemy's darts, bears himself naked to protect him; more careful to preserve him, than himself. Then, no Parasite falls in war with the shame of the General, or Soldiers. Of so goodly a carcase is he, and so like himself, sitting at a banquet; by whom, a dead Philosopher laid shows withered, nasty, a long bearded carcase, slain before the battle, a man of no strength: who would not despise that City which had such miserable Guards? who seeing such won long haired fellows lying, would not think the State, for want of better Soldiers, had let lose their prisons, and malefactors to the war? Parasites, then, in martial expeditions excel Orators, and Philosophers. In times of peace Parasitry, in my judgement, as much exceeds Philosophy, as peace exceeds war. First, then, (if please you) let us consider the places of peace.  Tychiades. 
I understand not your drift; but let us consider them.  Parasite. 
I may call Courts of Judicature, wrestling places, races, hunt, and banquets, places of peace.  Tychiades. 
You may.  Parasite. 
A parasite frequents not Courts of Judicature; places, in my opinion, fit only for Sycophants, where nothing is done by moderation, or rule. But he follows, and is the only man who adorns places of exercise, race, and entetainment. What Philosopher, or Orator, stripped for wrestling, can show a body to be compared with a parasite? or which of them seen in a race Would not be a reproach to the place? Not one of them in a desert can withstand a wild boar: whose assaults a parasite expects, and easily encounters, being used to contemn such beasts at entertainments. So that neither Stag, nor bristled Boar affrights him; but if he whet his teeth at him, he whets his teeth at him again. He pursues a hare more than ●ounds do. At a feast who can enter the list with a parasite, for mirth and eating? who more cheers the Guests? He who sings and breaks jests, or he who sits demure, in a patched gown, with a downcast look, as if he were invited to a funeral, not a feast? Methinks a Philosopher at a feast is just like a dog in a stew. But, to omit such expressions, let us now pass on, and consider, and compare a parasites life. First, you may observe him to be a perfect contemner of Glory, and negligent of the things of opinion. But you shall scarce find an Orator, or Philosopher not given to fame, and disdain; And, which is yet worse, to money. whereas a parasite is no more taken with Silver, than another man with the pebbles on the shore; Nor doth Gold, in his account, differ at all from fire. But pleaders, and (what is yet more unworthy) they who profess wisdom, are so wretchedly affected with gain, that some of the most famed Philosophers, (for I forbear to speak of Orators) sell justice for reward; others take pay for teaching their Scholars Sophistry. Another is not ashamed to receive a pension from the King for his attendance; Another, though of decrepit age, travels and hires himself out like an Indian, or Scythian Captive; nor hold they gain to be a word of reproach. Nor are these their only faults, you may perceive them liable to the most unruly passions too; as discontents, rages, envyings, and lusts of all sorts. Affections unknown to a parasite. Whose patience suffers him not to be angry; nor hath he an enemy to be angry with. If at any time he be provoked, his Choler is not troublesome, or mischievous, but rather stirs mirth, and delights the company. Of all men he is least troubled with sadness. For 'tis the benefit, and privilege of his profession, to grieve at nothing. Besides, he hath neither wealth, nor house, nor servant, nor wife, nor children, whose loss may afflict him. Then, he neither covets reputation, nor riches, nor beauty.  Tychiades. 
But methinks, Simo, want of maintenance should grieve him.  Parasite. 
You are deceived, Tychiades, if you take him for a true parasite who at any time wants maintenance. As he is not valiant, who wants courage, nor he wise, who lacks wisdom; so 'tis with a Parasite. Of whom I now speak, as he is a parasite in deed, not in title, and name. If, then, a valiant man be not valiant, if he have not valour; nor a wise man, wise, if he have not wisdom, so a parasite is not a parasite, unless he have the Art of a Parasite. He then, that cannot suck maintenance from any other man, falls not under my discourse, of a parasite.  Tychiades. 
Will you never allow him, then, to want maintenance?  Parasite. 
No. Which makes him not grieve for that, or any thing else. Whereas all Philosophers, and great Orators are surrounded with fears. So that you may see most of them walk with staves; which they would not do, if they feared not other men weaponed. Then, they firmly bolt their doors, to prevent any night attempt. Whilst the parasite slightly shuts the door of his cottage, merely to keep out the wind. A night attempt no more frights him, then if there were no such matter. If he be to pass though a desert he travels without a sword; so secure and fearless is he. But I have often seen Philosophers, upon no appearance of danger, make ready their bow, nor dare they go to a bath, or invitation without a staff. Then, no man can charge a parasite with adultery, force, rapine, or any other crime. For than he were not a parasite, but would much wrong himself: so that if he should be caught in adultery, he should with the offence purchase the name too. For as a malefactor leaves of to be a good man, and becomes a wicked; so an offending parasite leaves off to be what he was, and assumes the compellation of his offence. But we not only see many such offences committed by the Philosophers of our times, but have large monuments of their crimes recorded in their writings. Socrates, Aeschines, Hyperides, Demosthenes, and most Orators and Philosophers have had their Apologyes. But never Parasite needed a defence, because no man can give an instance of an invective writ against him.  Tychiades. 
I confess a Parasites life is much better than an Orators, or Philosophers, but his death is worse.  Parasite. 
'Tis much happier. For we know that all, or most Philosophers have had unfortunate ends. Some found guilty, and sentenced for heinous offences, by poison; others have wholly perished by fire, others by the strangury; others have died banished. But none can tell of a Parasite who died so, or who had not the happiness to die eating, and drinking. Or if any have felt a violent death, 'twas a flight, not an execution.  Tychiades. 
You have sufficiently compared a Parasite with Philosophers. It now remains that you show of what use he is to his nourisher, and patron. For methinks rich men maintain you out of benevolence, and charity, not without your infamies who are so maintained,  Parasite. 
I thought you not so simple, Tychiades, as not to know, that a rich man, though he possesses Gyges' wealth, dining alone is poor, and appearing in public without his parasite is a beggar. And as a Soldier without his arms, or apparel without its scarlet, or a horse without his trappings is priceless; so a rich man without his parasite is held base, and contemptible; so that the parasite is a credit to the rich man, but not the rich man to the parasite. Nor is it (what ever you think) any disgrace for the worse to be parasite to the better. It behoves, then, every rich man to keep his parasite, both for the honour, and the safety which he receives from his attendance. For no man will easily offer to quarrel with him so guarded. Next, no man that keeps a parasite can well be poisoned. For who will make such an attempt upon him who hath such a taster? A rich man, than not only receives fame, but preservation from his parasite: who out of affection to his patron undergoes all his dangers, and chooseth not only to eat, but to die with him.  Tychiades. 
Trust me, Simo, you have not been defective, nor came you, (as you pretended) unprepared to the deciphering of your Art, of which you seem to be so practised a master. For the future, therefore, if you can deliver the name from disgrace, I will learn to be a parasite.  Parasite. 
To this my answer shall be (since you think I have otherwise said enough) a question; to which answer as well as you can. What did the Ancients call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉?  Tychiades. 
Food.  Parasite. 
And doth not, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signify to be fed?  Tychiades. 
Yes.  Parasite. 
'Tis plain, then, that to be a parasite (which is derived from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 another's, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 meat) is nothing but to be one fed by another.  Tychiades. 
Therein Simo, lies the infamy, and scandal.  Parasite. 
Pray answer me once more: which of the two would you choose. To be the sailor, or passenger?  Tychiades. 
The passenger.  Parasite. 
The Racer, or the Better?  Tychiades. 
The Better.  Parasite. 
The Horse, or the Rider?  Tychiades. 
The Rider.  Parasite. 
The Arrow, or the Archer?  Tychiades. 
The Archer.  Parasite. 
And would you not rather choose to be fed, then to be the feeder?  Tychiades. 
I confess myself convinced. Henceforth like schoolboys I will come to you mornings, and afternoons, to learn your Art. Which, being your first scholar, I hope you will teach me without reservation or envy▪ For they say mothers love their first child best.   

The Lover of Lies; or the incredulous.  The Speakers, Tychiades and Philocles. Tychiades 
CAn you tell me the reason, Philocles, why most men desire to lie, and delight not only to speak fictions themselves, but give busy attention to others who do?  Philocles. 
There be many reasons, Tychiades., which compel some men to speak untruths, because they see 'tis profitable.  Tychiades. 
This is nothing to the purpose. My question concerned not them who lie for profit: for such deserve pardon; and some praise, who have thereby defeated their enemies, and used it as a preservative against dangers; like Ulysses, who by such slights secured his own life, and the return of his companions. But I now speak of those, who prefer the very lie before truth, and take pleasure to busy themselves in fables, without any necessary judgement. I would fain know what motives such men have to do so.  Philocles. 
Have you met with any born with such a natural love to lying?  Tychiades. 
There are many such.  Philocles. 
What other motive can they have not to speak truth, but their madness? Else certainly, they would never prefer the worst thing before the best.  Tychiades. 
This is nothing; since I can show you many of great discretion, and wisdom in other things, who yet are Captives to this delusion, and love of lies. Nor am I a little troubled to see men of excellent judgement in other things, take delight to deceive themselves, and others. You cannot but know those ancients better than I, Herodotus, Ctesias the Cnidian, and the Poets before them, Homer especially; All men of great name, whose writings are stored with fictions. So that they not only deceived their hearers then, but have conveyed their lies to us also in a preserved succession of excellent Poetry, and verses. I cannot, therefore, but blush for them, as often as they speak of a Schism in heaven, of Prometheus' chains, the Giant's Insurrection, and the whole Tragedy of Hell. How jupiter, also, for love became a Bull, or Swan; and how a woman was transformed into a Fowl, or Bear. Besides their Pegasus', Chimaeras, Gorgon's, Cyclops, and the like strange prodigious fables, fit only to recreate the minds of children, who yet fear Goblins, and Fairies. But these are things tolerable in Poets. How ridiculous is it that whole Cities, and Nations should unanimously agree in a public lie? Thus the Cretans are not ashamed to show jupiters' Tomb. The Athenians say that Ericthonius grew from the earth, and that the first people of Attica sprung from thence, like Coleworts. Yet these speak much modestlyer than the Thebans, who derive themselves from a serpent's teeth sown. Yet he who takes not such ridiculous fictions for true, but upon discreet examination thinks it proper only for a Coroebus, or Margites, to believe that Triptolemus was carried through the Air by winged Dragons; Or that Pan came asistant to the Greeks from Arcadia into Marathon; Or that Orithyia was ravished by Boreas; is held irreligious, and foolish, for dissenting from such clear and evident truths. So powerful is a received lie.  Philocles. 
Yet both Poets, Tychiades, and Cities are thus excusable, that the one mingle fictions with their writings, the better to take their readers. The Athenians, Thebans and other countries, make their beginnings more majestic, from such fabulous Originals. Besides, should all fiction be banished Greece, how many reporters would die of famine? Since none there are patient to hear truth spoken gratis. In my judgement, therefore, they who delight in lies, for no other reason but because they are lies, are most deservedly to be laughed at.  Tychiades. 
You say true. I now came from the learned Eucrates, where I heard many things fabulous, and incredible; or rather leaving them in the midst of their discourses, impatient of na●rations so much beyond belief, like so many Hobgoblins they scared me away with their prodigies, and wonders.  Philocles. 
Aeucrates, Tychiades, is a man of credit, nor can I believe that one of so deep a beard, of the age of threescore, and of such continued study in Philosophy, should endure to hear another feign in his presence, much less that he should offer to feign himself.  Tychiades. 
You know not, my friend, what lies he told, how constantly he affirmed them, and mingled Oaths with his fictions, and produced his children for witnesses. So that I looking upon him▪ thought variously; sometimes that he was mad, and beside himself; sometimes that being a cheater he had long scapeed my discovery; and had carried about a contemptible Ape in a Lion's shape: so absurd were his discourses.  Philocles. 
In the name of Vesta, what were they, Tychiade●? I long to know what cozenage he could disguise with so long a beard.  Tychiades. 
I usually, at other times, when I had leisure, Tychiades, visited him. But to day having occasion to speak with Leontichus, (who as you know, is my intimate friend) and being told by his boy that he was early in the morning gone to visit Eucrates, who lay sick, as well to meet Leontichus, as to see him, (of whose sickness I was till then ignorant) I went thither. Where I found not Leontichus, (who, as they said, was newly departed) but a crowd of others; Among whom was Cleodemus the Peripatetic, Dinomachus the Stoic, and jon; you know him; he that is so admired for Plato's discourses, as if he only understood exactly his meaning, and were able to be his interpreter to others. You see what men I name to you▪ All Sages, famed for virtue, heads of their several sects; All venerable, and carrying an awful terror in their looks. There was present, also, Antigonus the Physician, sent for, I suppose, out of necessity of the disease. Though Eucrates seemed to be much upon the recovery, and his sickness not dangerous. For the humour was again fallen into his feet. As soon as Eucrates saw me, remitting his voice he feebly bade me sit down by him on the bed: whom, as I entered, I heard loud, and shrill. I very careful not to touch his feet, and using the accustomed compliment, that I knew not of his sickness, but upon the first intimation came post, sat near him. The discourse of the company was concerning his disease; of which they had in part already spoken; and were then going on, each severally to prescribe a several medicine, and cure. Take up from the ground, said Cleodemus, with your left hand the tooth of a weasel, so killed as I said before, bind it in a Lion's skin, newly flayed, then wrap it about your legs, and your pain will presently cease. 'Tis not in a Lion's skin, as I have heard, said Dinomachus, but in a Virgin Hindes skin unbuckt; And so the receipt is more probable. For a Deer is swift, and most strong of feet. A Lion, indeed, is strong, and his fat, and right paw, and the stiff hairs of his beard are of great virtue, if one know how to apply them every one with his proper charm. But they promise small cure of the gout. ay, also, once thought, said Cleodemus, that a Stag's skin was to be used for his fleetness, but since a certain wise Lybian hath me taught otherwise, and told me that Lions are swifter than Bucks; For they, said he, catch these in hunting. The rest praised his reason, as well delivered by the Lybian. Then, said I, do you think such diseases, as this, are cured by charms or that an inward malady is eased by an outward spell? Whereat they smiled, and seemed much to condemn my silliness as not knowing a thing so received, and not gainsaid, or disproved by any understanding man. Antigonus the Physician seemed pleased with my question; who, it seems, was formerly neglected in his offers to cure Eucrates by the prescriptions of his Art; which enjoined him to abstain from wine, to eat herbs, and to study more remissely. Cleodemus, in the mean time, smiling replied saying, do you think it incredible, Tychiades, that such spells should be of power to cure diseases? I do, said I. Nor am I of so gross a sense, to believe that such outward receits, which have no affinity with the springs, and causes of the infirmity within, should work, by charm, as you pretend, or by Imposture; or upon their bare application should instill cures. A thing not to be effected, though one should bind sixteen whole weesills in the Nemean Lion's skin. I have often seen a Lion halt, and go lame with pain in his whole skin. You are a very punye, said Dinomachus, and have not learned to know what power such spells have over diseases. Nor seem to me to understand the expulsion of periodical fevers, the charming of serpents, and assuaging of botches, and other things performed by every old woman. All which being frequently done, why should you think cures of this nature impossible? You pile too much, Dinomachus, said I, and according to the proverb; drive out one nail with another. Nor doth it appear, that the things you speak of, are by such power effected. If, therefore, you prove not to me first by reason, that 'tis naturally possible that a fever, or blayn should be frighted with a divine name, or barbarous spell, and thereupon forsake the place swollen, you have but hitherto uttered old wives tales. Thus saying, said Dinomachus, you seem not to believe there are Gods; since you think it beyond the power of their names to work cures. Say not so, Good Sir, quoth I, for there may without impediment be Gods, and yet your prescriptions may be deceitful, and false. I adore the Gods, and behold their cures, and recoveryes of sick people by regular medicines, and Physic. Aesculapius, and his followers healed the diseased by wholesome prescriptions, not by the application, of Lions and Weesills. Let him enjoy his opinion, said jon. I will report to you a miraculous passage. When I was a Boy, about the age of fourteen years, one came and told my father, that Midas, his Vinedresser, a stout industrious servant, about the time of full market lay stung of a Serpent, which presently gangreneed his leg. For as he was bending a vine, and winding it about a pole, the Snake crept to him, and biting him by the great toe, presently slipped away, and retired into a hole. Whereupon he cried out, and was ready to expire with pain. In the close of the relation we saw Midas himself, brought by his fellow servants in a chair, swollen all over, discoloured, in appearance rankled, and scarce able to breath. My father being much grieved, a certain friend of his, there present, said, Take courage, Sir, I will presently fetch a Chaldaean, who shall cure him. Not to be tedious, the Babylonian came, restored Midas, and drew the venom from his body by a charm, and by the application of a stone, cut from the pillar of a deceased Virgin, to his feet: and, which is yet more, Midas rising from the chair, in which he was brought, went back into the field; so powerful was the charm, and the stone taken from the tomb. Among his many other miracles, which he wrought, he went one morning early into a field, where having pronounced seven certain sacred names, taken out of an ancient book, and purged the place with brimstone, and taper, and walked it thrice round: he assembled to him all the Serpents of the country. So that drawn by force of the charm came many Snakes, Asps, Vipers, Efts, Darters, Lizards, and Toads: only one ancient Dragon was left behind; who for age, I believe, and not being able to crawl disobeyed the spell. Whereupon, All are not here, said the Magician; and presently selecting one of the youngest Serpents, sent him Ambassador to the Dragon. Who not long after came also. When they were all assembled, the Babylonian puffed upon them, and presently to our astonishment they were all burnt with his breath. Then said I, pray tell me jon, did the young Serpent Ambassador lead the old, or did he support himself by a staff? You are merry, said Cleodemus. I was once as great an Infidel in these things as you are now, and saw no reason to believe them; yet when I beheld the Barbarian stranger fly, (who as they report came from the North) I was convinced into a belief against my inclination. For what should I do, when I saw him carried in the Air, walking upon the water, and in a slow, and leisurely motion pass through the fire? But did you, said I, see a Northern man fly, or walk upon the water? Most certainly, replied he, shod with pumps, after the manner of his country. I forbear to speak of his smaller performances, his infusion of love, expulsion of devils, raising of the dead long buried, public presentment of Hecate, and drawing down the moon from heaven. I will only report to you what I saw him do for Glaucias, the son of Anaxicles. Glaucias no sooner began to inherit his dead father's estate but he fell in love with Chrysis, Demaenetus daughter. I was Tutor to his studies. Who, had not love diverted him, had by this time learned all the Peripatetic Sciences; since being but eighteen years old he had already gone over the Analytickes, and past through Aristotle's Physics to the end. Thus perplexed with love, he revealed himself to me: Who being his Tutor, as it became me, brought this Northern Magician to him, hired for four Crowns in hand (which were to buy things for the sacrifice) and sixteen more when Glaucias enjoyed Chrysis. He observing the moons increase, (the proper time for such enchantments) and having digged a hole in the house yard, about midnight, first called up to us Anaxicles, Glaucias father, dead seven months before. The old man stormed, and raged at his son's love, but in conclusion gave licence to his affection. Next, he raised up Hecate, who brought Cerberus with her. Then he called down the Moon, a various spectacle, by reason of her divers appearances, and changes. For first she resembled in countenance a woman; then she was transformed into a beautiful Cow; then into a little dog. After this fashioning a little Cupid of Clay, Go, said he, and fetch Chrysis hither. The Clay presently flew away, and shortly after she came, and knocked at the door, and at her first entrance embraced Glaucias, showed herself distractedly enamoured, and accompanied him till we heard the Cock's crow. Then the Moon flew to heaven, Hecate sunk into the earth, the Apparitions vanished; and we about day break let Chrysis depart. Had you seen this, Tychiades, you would not long distrust the force of charms. You say well, said I, I would, indeed, believe this, had I seen it. But am otherwise to be pardoned, if at such visions I be not as quicksighted as you. As for the Chrysis, you speak of, I know her to be an easy amorous woman. Nor do I perceive any need why you should employ an earthen Ambassador to her, or trouble a Magician from the North, or the Moon, for the affection of one whom for twenty drachmas you may draw as far as the North pole; being a woman so readily prepared to meet your Incantations: Though she be thus unlike your apparitions. For they (as you report) at the sound of Brass, or Iron vanish: But she no sooner hears Silver, but she runs to the sound. Besides, I cannot but wonder at the Magician, that being able to enforce love towards himself in the women of greatest wealth, and thereby draw whole talents from them, he should for the inconsiderable price of four Crowns procure affection for Glaucias. 'Tis folly in you, said jon, to believe nothing. I would fain ask you, what you think of them who have delivered Daemoniackes from their possessions; and have evidently charmed forth their Devils. I need not tell you how many the Syrian, who came from Palestine, a man skilled in such Arts, hath restored after they have fallen down Lunatic, stared with their eyes, and foamed at mouth, and hath sent them away, cured, and released them, for great sums, of their distempers. For standing by them as they lie, he asks the evil spirit from whence he entered into the Body. The possessed person, mean time, is speechless, and the Devil replying, in Greek, or some barbarous language, tells from whence he is and how he entered the man; whereupon he by adjuration, and threats, if he offer to disobey, casts him out. I saw a Devil cast out black, and of the colour of soot. No marvel jon, said I, that you saw such visions; Plato the father of your sect hath taught you to see Ideas, a spectacle too refined, and subtle, for our dull sense. Many others as well as you, jon, said Eucrates, have met with Devils, some by night, others by day, I have, not once, but a thousand times seen such Spectrums; and was at first frighted with them, but custom hath at length made them not strange, or unfamiliar. Especially since an Arabian gave me a ●ing, made of the Iron taken from a cross, and taught me an ambiguous, divers sensed charm; unless you refuse to give credit to me, also, Tychiades. How can I choose, said I, but believe Eucrates, the son of Dino; especially being so wise a man, and having the freedom to speak what you please with authority in your own house? Hear some passages of a statue of mine, then, said Eucrates; which nightly appears to all my family, both men, and maids; who can witness so much to you, as well as ●. Of which of your Statues, said I? Did you not observe at your entrance, said he, a fair Statue standing in my hall, the work of Demetrius, the Statuary. Do you mean the Quoiter, said I, who stands wried in a Gesture ready to deliver, with his quoit hand reversed, and one knee bend, as if he meant to vary posture, and rise with his throw? Not him, said he; the Quoiter you speak of is one of Myrons' pieces. Nor do I mean the fair Statue next to him, filletted about the head with a bend; which is a piece of Polycletus'. You are also to pass over those which stand on the right hand as you enter; among whom are the Tyrant-slayers, carved by Critias Nesiota. Did you not mark the statue by the conveyance of water, with the big belly, bald, half naked, part of the hairs of his beard plucked of, of huge sinews, and every way resembling a man? I mean Pelichus, he who is so like a Corinthian Captain. I saw such a one, said I, on the right hand of Saturn; having a withered wreath, and fillet on his head, and guilt Plates on his Breast. ay, said Eucrates, caused them to be guilt, after he had in three days cured me of a desperate fever. Was the famous Pelichus, then, a Physician said I? He is now, and take heed how you scoff at him, said Eucrates; lest he shortly take revenge of you. I know the power of the Statue you laugh at; do you think he cannot as well inflict a fever, as expel one▪ Be so powerful a Statue, propitious, and merciful to me, said I: pray, what else have your family seen him do? As soon as it begins to be night, said he, descending from his Pedestal, he walks round the house; all my servants have often met him singing: he hurts none that give him way, but passeth by them without disturbance; he washeth himself much, and plays all night, as we guess, by the noise of the water. Consider, said I, whether your Statue be Pelichus, or Talus the Cretan, who lived with Mino●, whose brazen Statue was Sentinel, and guardian of the Country. Were he not made of Copper, but wood, I should probably think he were not the workmanship of Demetrius, but one of Daedalus motions. For you say, he frequently walks from his Basis. Beware, Tychiades, said he, you be not hereafter sorry for your flouts I could tell you what he suffered who stole the farthings, which we every new moon offer to him. The punishment of such a sacrilege must needs be direful, said jon. Pray what was it, Eucrates? I desire to hear, how incredulous soever Tychiades be. Many farthings, said he, lay at his feet, and some other Silver coins were fastened with wax to his knees, besides divers Silver Plates, offered to him by the devotion, and gratitude of those whom he had recovered from fevers. A servant of mine, a Lybian, one of my Grooms, perceiving the Statue one night absent, adventured to steal his oblations. Observe how Pelichus, finding himself, at his return, robbed, revenged himself, and bewrayed the thief. Who all night walked up and down the Hall in a Circle, unable, like one fallen into a Labyrinth, to get out; till next morning he was apprehended with his stealths about him, and proportionably whipped. Nor did he live long after, but died miserably beaten every night, as he said, and confirmed it with the marks seen in his body next day. Now, if please you, Tychiades, said Eucrates, laugh at Pelichus, and me, for a Doter of Mino's time. Certainly Eucrates, said I, as long as Brass is Brass, and your statue but the creature of Demetrius, the Alopecian, who carved not Gods, but men, I shall not fear the Image of your Pelichus, nor much care for the threats of the original were he alive. Here Antigonus, the Physician, seconding him said, I, Eucrates, have also a brazen Hypocrates, about a cubit long, which, as soon as the Candles are put out, walks circularly through all the house, making a noise, overturning boxes, compounding medicines, and flinging open doors: especially if we omit to pay him his yearly sacrifice. Doth Hypocrates the Physician, then, require to be sacrificed to, said I, and take it ill if he be not feasted with oblations at his set times? Methinks 'twere honour enough to power wine to him, or crown him with Garlands. Hear another passage, said Eucrates, which I with many other witnesses saw about five years past. One harvest time, having dispatched my reapers about noon into the field, I solitarily retired myself into a wood, to weigh, and consider of some things. Where, at my first entrance, I heard the howling of dogs, which I imagined to be my son Mnason, going then abroad, as his manner is, with his companions to sport themselves, and hunt. But 'twas otherwise. For presently after followed an Earthquake, and a hideous bellowing like thunder. After this I saw a woman coming towards me of horrible aspect, and near half a furlong tall, having in her left hand a Torch, in her right a Sword, at least twenty cubits long. She had downward feet like a Serpent, upwards in the horror of her countenance, and visage, she resembled a Gorgon; having Snakes for hair, which partly twinned about her neck, others hung loose on her shoulders. See, my good friends, said Eucrates, how I yet tremble to tell the story; and withal showed us the hairs on his arms stiff, and erected with fear. jon, all the while and Dinomachus, and Cleodemus, ancient men, gave him serious attention as if drawn by the nose; and expressed a silent adoration of the incredible Colossus-half-furlong-woman, and giantlike Hobgoblin. But I considered with myself, that such men as they, who read wisdom to young scholars, and were generally admired, differed only from children in their grey hairs, and long beards, and were in all things else more easy to be deceived than they. Here Dinomachus put in, and said; pray tell me, Eucrates, of what size, and bigness were her hounds? Bigger then Indian Elephants, replied he, and alike black, their skin as rough, squallide, and fowl. ay▪ when I saw them, stood still, and withal turned the seal of the ring which the Arabian gave me to the inside of my finger. Whereupon Hecate striking the the ground with her serpentine feet, made a great Cleft, which reached to hell, into which she sunk by degrees. I assuming courage, and taking hold of a neighbouring tree, lest astonished with the darkness I should chance to fall in headlong, looked in, and saw all the things of Hell; The burning lake of Phlegeton, Cerberus, and Ghosts; some of which I knew, especially my father, whom I saw in the very garments we buried him. Pray, Eucrates, said jon, what did the souls departed do? What should they do, answered he, but converse in companies, and societies with their friends, and Allies, in the Daffodil mead? Henceforth, then, said jon, let the followers of Epicurus urge arguments against Plato, and his discourses of the soul. But did you not see Socrates, and Plato, among the dead? Socrates, replied he, I saw, but not more clearly then to guess at him by his baldness and strutting belly. Plato I knew not, nor is't fit I speak more than truth to my friends. After I had taken an exact and universal survey of things, the vault closed, and some of my servants, of which my man Pyrrhias here was one, came thither to seek me before 'twas quite shut. Speak, Pyrrhias, do I say true? Most true, by jupiter, Sir, said the fellow; for I myself heard the barking of the dogs through the cave, and saw the flashes of the Torch. Here I smiled to hear the howling; and flames put in by the witness. You have seen nothing strange, said Cleodemus, or what hath not been seen by others▪ For I, in my sickness, not long since, saw the like apparition. At which time Antigonus, here, visited me, and gave me seven day's Physic for a fever, more hot, and violent than fire. One day all left the room, shut the door, and stayed without, by your prescription, Antigonus; if perchance solitariness might entice me into a slumber. But I, lying awake, saw a goodly youth approach me, clothed in white: who after he had raised me, lead me through such another cloven down to hell; as I presently perceived, when I beheld Tantalus, Tityus, and Sisyphus. What need I report to you the rest? Briefly, I was brought to a Tribunal, where were present Aeacus, Charon, the Destinies, and Furies. Where, also, one sat as King, who seemed to be Pluto, by his reading of a Catalogue of their names who were to die, and had already outlived their limited time. The young man brought me, and presented me to him. But Pluto much displeased, said to him, his thread is not yet quite spun, let him, therefore, depart again. And fetch Demylus the Brazier, who hath exceeded his distaff. Whereupon I joyfully returned, released of my fever, and told all my neighbours, that Demylus was shortly to die. Who then, also, lay sick, as 'twas reported. And shortly after we heard the Cries of them that lamented his death. What miracle is this? Said Antigonus. I knew one, who after he had been buried twenty days, rose again. For I gave him Physic before his death, and after his resurrection. Methinks, said I, in twenty days his body should putrify, or perish with famine. Unless you administered to an Epimenides. As we thus discoursed, came in Eucrates sons from exercise. One a grown youth, the other about the age of fifteen. Who having saluted us sat down upon the bed by their father; and a chair was brought for me. Here Eucrates taking fresh hint from the presence of his sons, said, so may I have Comfort of these two, (and laid his hands on them) as that which I shall now tell you, Tychiades, is true. 'Tis well known how dearly I loved my wife, the mother of these, of happy memory: which I expressed both in my carriage to her while she lived, & after her death. For I burnt with her her whole wardrobe, & the garments she most delighted in when she lived. The seventh day after her funeral, I lay in this bed, as I do now, having abated my sorrow. And silently reading to myself Plato's little tract of the soul, Demaenete entered, and sat down by me, as Eucratides (pointing to his younger son) doth now. The boy childishly trembled, and waxed pale at the narration. ay, proceeded Eucrates, as soon as I beheld her, embraced her and sobbingly shed tears. She permitted me not to weep, but blamed me, that after all my other expressions of affection to her, I had not burnt one of her guilt pantofles; which, she said, was fallen down behind a chest: which, we not finding, cast only the other into the funeral pile. As we thus talked, an unhappy dog, which I loved, lying upon the bed, barked, at which sound she vanished. Afterwards we found the slipper under the Chest, and burned it. Can you still doubt, Tychiades, of truths so manifest, and every day apparent? By jove, said I, they deserve to be clapped with a guilt Sandall, like children, who do not believe you, or impudently question the truth. Here Arignotus, the Pythagorean, entered, a man of long hair, and venerable aspect. You know he is famous for his wisdom, and Surnamed the Sacred. I was something relieved with his sight, and, according to the proverb, thought I had now got an Axe against lies. For certainly, said I to myself, this wise man will stop their mouths from reporting any more such prodigies. In a word, I thought fortune had unexpectedly sent some God to my succour. He sitting down in a place which Cleodemus resigned to him, first, enquired of Eucrates his disease, and being informed how he did, asked us what we discoursed of: for as I entered, said he, methought I heard you busied in an excellent subject. We were persuading this man of Adamant, said Eucrates, pointing at me, to believe there were Devils. And that the shades, and souls of men departed, did wander up and down the earth, and appear to whom they pleased. I could not choose but blush, and fix my look to the ground, out of reverence to Arignotus. Perchance, Eucrates, said he, Tychiades holds that their Souls only do walk who died violently, namely such as were strangled, beheaded, crucified, or the like; and that those who die naturally walk not. If this be his opinion, he is not to be blamed. No such matter, replied Dinomachus, he neither holds that there are such things, or that they were ever seen. How say you, Sir; said Arignotus, looking frowningly upon me, do you deny such apparitions as are visible to all? You must pardon my Infidelity, said I, who never saw any. If I had, I should believe, as You do. If ever you go to Corinth, said he, ask for the house of Eubatides; and when 'tis shown you, by the Craneum, enter, and tell Tibius the Porter, you desire to see the place from whence Arignotus the Pythagorean conjured away the Devil, and rendered the house habitable. May we request the whole story? Replied Eucrates. The house, said he, being haunted, was of a long time undwelt in. If any did adventure to inhabit it, they were scared, and persecuted away by a horrid, and dismal Apparition; So that it began to fall to ruin, and the roof to drop; nor had any man the courage to enter into it. When I heard hereof, carrying with me certain Egyptian books (of which I have store upon such Arguments) I went to the house about the first sleep, much dissuaded, and almost violently restrained by mine Host, after he knew whither I meant to go; verily supposing I went to my destruction. Notwithstanding, I taking a Taper with me entered the house alone, and placing the link in the great hall, and myself on the floor, read silently to myself. In comes the Devil, thinking he was to deal with some vulgar fellow, and hoping to fright me like others. A rough, shaggy fiend, and blacker than darkness itself. At his first appearance he tried, by making an orbicular assault, to vanquish me, and sometimes turned himself into a Dog, then into a Bull, lastly into a Lyon. But I having a direful Spell in readiness, which I pronounced in the Aegyptick tongue, charmed him back into a dark corner of the house. And having well observed the place where he sunk, I left speaking. In the morning, after every body's despair, who thought to find me slain, like others, ay, against the expectation, came forth and went to Eubatides; And told him the glad news, that he might safely inhabit his house, which was now purged and freed from Devils. Withal taking him, and many others (who followed out of curiosity, along with me to the place where I saw the fiend vanish, I commanded it to be digged with pickaxes, and spades. We had not digged above a yard deep, but we found a dead man, consumed, and nothing left to represent him but the Sceleton. Which we took up and buried. And from that time the house ceased to be molested with visions. When Arignotus had finished his narration, being a man of prodigious wisdom, and generally reverenced, there were not any of the company who did not condemn me of stupidity for being incredulous. Nevertheless, I, neither daunted with his beard, nor their opinion of him, said, can such a man as you, Arignotus, from whom alone I hoped to hear the truth, be fraught also with fumes and Phantasms? You have verified the proverb, I have found coals for treasure. If, said, Arignotus, you neither believe me, nor Dinomachus, nor Cleodemus, nor Eucrates, whom can you produce more Authentic to disprove us? A man much admired, said I, Democritus the Abderite. Who was so smally persuaded of such fictions, that shutting himself up in a monument without the City, he there lived, wrote, and composed nights, and days. And when certain boys, desirous to scare, and fright him, arrayed themselves like Ghosts in black Garments, and wearing counterfeit vizards on their heads, surrounded him, and frequently skipped about him, he neither feared their disguises, nor at all regarded them, but wrote on, and bid them cease to play the fools. So firmly did he believe, that Souls were nothing after their departure from the body. Certainly, replied Eucrates, Democritus was the verier fool to think so. I will, therefore, report one story more, in which I myself was an Actor, and took it not up upon relation. Perchance when you hear it, Tychiades, the truth of the narration, will convince you. When I lived in Egypt, yet a boy, sent thither by my father, to learn their Arts, I had a desire to sail to Coptus, and from thence to hear the famous Memnon sound at the rising of the sun. Whom I heard, not as others ordinarily do, yield an unsignificant sound; But Memnon himself uttered Oracles to me, and opened his mouth in seven verses. Which, but that I should digress, I would repeat to you. As we were at Sea, there sailed in company with us a certain holy Priest of Memphis, admired for his wisdom, and skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians. He was said to have lived three and twenty years in a cave under ground, and there to have learned Magic of Isis. You mean my Tutor Pancrates, replied Arignotus, he is a religious man, shaved, goes in linen, is very learned, speaks Greek purely, is tall of stature, hath a bow nose, full lips, and small legs. The very same answered Eucrates. At first I knew not who he was. But when I saw him, after our arrival in the port, among many other miracles which he wrought, ride upon Crocodiles, approach such cruel beasts, and they to reverence him, and wag their tails, I guessed him to be some sacred person. And by degrees insinuated myself into his acquaintance, and friendship. So that at length he revealed all his secrets, and mysteries to me. To be short, he persuaded me to leave all my servants at Memphis, and to accompany him alone; who promised we should not want attendants. And from that time thus we lived. When we came into an Inn, he taking the bolt of the door, or a broom, or bar, and clothing it, spoke a charm to it, and enabled it to go, and in all things to resemble a man. The thing going forth, would draw water, provide, and dress our supper, and diligently wait, and attend upon us. After his business was done, he pronounced another charm, and turned the broom into a broom again, and the pestle into a pestle. This was an Art which, though I laboured much, I could not learn of him. For this was a mystery which he denied me, though in all things else he were open. One day, hiding myself in a dark corner, I overheard his charm, which was but three syllables. He having appointed the bolt its business, went into the market. The next day, he having some other employment in the market, I taking the pestle, and apparelling it, in like manner pronounced the syllables, and bid it fetch me some water. When it had brought me a basin full, 'tis enough, said I, fetch no more, but be a pestle, again. But it was so far from obeying me, that it ceased not to fetch water till it had overflown the room. ay, much troubled at the accident, and fearing lest if Pancrates should return (as he did) he would be much displeased, took an Axe, and cut the pestle in two. Then both parts taking several buckets fetched water. And in stead of one, I had two servants. In the mean time Pancrates came in, and perceiving what had happened, transformed them into wood again, as they were before I uttered the spell. Shortly after he secretly left me, and vanishing went I know not wither. And can you now, said Dinomachus, make a man of a bolt? I have but one half of the Art replied he, nor am I able to return him into his former shape If, therefore, I once make him a water bearer; we shall be driven from the house by a deluge. Will you old men, said I, never leave to speak monstrous fictions? If for no other reason, yet for these young boy's sakes, forbear your improbable, and terrible narrations till some other time, lest they be insensibly filled with uncouth affrightments, & fables. Accustom them not to hear things which will make impressions, and trouble them all their life; make them start at every sound, and fill them with divers superstitions. You do well, said Eucrates, to put me in mind of superstition. Pray what think you of Oracles, Tychiades, & Predictions, & Prophecies, uttered by people inspired, and heard from Curtains, or delivered in verse by a Virgin, which foretells things to come Cannot these things fall under your belief neither? I forbear to tell you that I have a sacred ring whose seal bears the image of Apollo, and that the God himself frequently talks with me; lest you should think I fain this of myself, out of arrogance, I will only tell you what I saw and heard from Amphilochus at malus, who entertained me with a long discourse, and consulted the Oracle concerning my affairs. Next I will report to you what I saw at Pergamus, & heard at Patara. When I sailed homeward from Egypt, being informed that there was an open, infallible Oracle at malus, which verbatim gave clear answers to every man's inquiries, written in a note, and delivered to his Priest, I thought I should do well, as I sailed by, to try the Oracle, and consult the God concerning my future fortunes. I by this entrance perceiving that Eucrates was likely to lengthen his story, and that he had begun no very compendious discourse of Oracles, and not holding it fit to contradict them longer, leaving him sailing from Egypt to malus (for I saw them discontented with my presence, as an opposer of their fictions) I will take my leave, said I, and go seek Leontichus. For I have urgent occasion to meet with him. You, who think humane passages not sufficient, have the liberty to call the Gods into your fabulous discourses. And having so said, I departed. They, glad of their freedom, in likelihood entertained, and feasted themselves with impostures. ay, cloyed with what I heard, am come to you, Philocles, just like those who having drunk new wine, and swollen their belly, have need to vomit: I would give any money for a potion of oblivion to make me forget, and to wash away the mischievous remembrance of what I heard. Who still, methinks, see monsters, Devils and Hecates.  Philocles. 
ay, also, suffered in your relations, Tychiades. For they say, that they not only grow distracted, and fear the water, who are bitten by mad dogs, but if the man bitten by't another, 'tis equal to the bite of a dog, and begets the like distemper▪ so you having been bitten by Eucrates fictions, have bitten me also, and filled my fancy with Devils.  Tychiades. 
However let us take courage, since we have an excellent Antidote to cure us, truth, and right reason. Which if we make our rule, we shall be troubled with no such empty, and vain falsehoods.   

A defence of dancing.  The Speakers. Lycinus, and Crato. Lycinus. 
Since, Crato, by the bitterness of your invective, I guess you have long studied to disparage both dances, and the Art of dancing, and us who delight in such shows, as if we misbusied ourselves in a vain, womanish exercise, know the greatness of your error, and how much you have deceived yourself, to blame one of the most excellent recreations of life. Though you are to be pardoned, if having originally been bred to a sour life, and taught to hold nothing commendable, which is not severe, your want of experience have cast you upon such Detractions.  Crato. 
For you, most delicate Lycinus, being such a man as you are, well bred, and indifferently instructed in Philosophy, to forsake the best studies, and the conversation of the Ancients, to sit listening to fiddlers, and to see an effeminate fellow loosely clad, charm you with bawdy songs, and act the loves of such ancient strumpets as the lustful Phaedra, Parthenope, and Rhodope, and all this performed with Knick-Knacks, obscene gestures, and sounds of the feet, are, doubtless, most ridiculous pastimes, and little beseeming one of your free education. Wherefore hearing how you employed your time in such spectacles, I not only blushed for you, but was much grieved, that having studied Plato, Chrysippus, and Aristotle, you should sit and suffer, like them whose ears are ●ickled with a feather. There being otherwise numberless entertainments, As virtuous Sights, rare Musicians, and artificial Singers to the Harp, in grave Tragedies, and merry Comedies, which deserve to be styled exercises. You had need, therefore, gentle Sir, frame a large Apology to the learned, if you mean not to be utterly expelled, and banished from the flock of the virtuous. Your best course, therefore, in my opinion, will be to cure all by a denial, and not at all to confess yourself guilty of such a crime. And for the future take heed least, unknown to us, of the man you were, you be transformed into some Lyde, or Bacche. And so not only raise an imputation on yourself, but on us also, if like Ulysses, we draw you not from the enchanted cup, and reduce you to your former studies, before you be insensibly ensnared by the Sirens of the Theatre. For they laid Siege only to the ear, and might be sailed by by the help of wax: but you seem wholly captived by your eyes.  Lycinus. 
Trust me, Crato, you have let lose your fierce dog upon me. But your example of the Lote-eaters, and instance of the Sirens, carry no resemblance to my case: since they, who tasted the Lote, and heard the Sirens, perished; as the reward of their Luxury, and Attention. Whereas I, besides the wonderful pleasure I have conceived, have hence raised excellent advantage. For I am neither fallen into the oblivion of my household affairs, or into an ignorance of the things concerning myself, but to speak without dissimulation, have returned from the Theatre much wiser, and sharper sighted in the business of life. More fitly, therefore, might you have alleged out of Homer, that he who saw the charming spectacle sailed away delighted, and the more amply instructed.  Crato. 
Good Hercules! What a loft man are you, Lycinus, Who in stead of being ashamed, can boast of your follies? So desperate is your case, that you afford us not any hope of a cure, thus to praise exercises so fowl, and detestable▪  Lycinus. 
Pray tell me, Crato, have you frequently seen dancing, and the passages of the Theatre, which you thus accuse● O● unaccustomed to such spectacles, do you hold them thus detestable, and unworthy? If you have been a Spectator, you are as faulty as I: if you have not, take heed your reprehension show not unreasonable, and overbold, thus to blame what you know not.  Crato. 
'Twould fairly have become, indeed, my long beard, and white head to sit among a crowd of women, and frantic Spectators, and there to clap, and hurl absurd praises, to a wretched fellow, who weeps without cause.  Lycinus. 
You are to be excused, Crato. Yet if you will for once obey my persuasion, and for mere trial sake afford your presence, and submit your eyes, I am certain you will not afterwards refrain to take up the first, & most commodious place in the Theatre, from whence you may both exactly see, and hear all.  Crato. 
May cleanliness forsake me, when I do so; And may my limbs be for ever rough, and my chin unsmooth, as I pity you perfectly gone in a distraction.  Lycinus. 
Sparing your blasphemies, then, wil't please you to hear me say something of dancing, and of the commodities which attend it? How it not only delights, but profits the beholders? how greatly it teacheth, and instructs, & fashions the mind of the Spectators, entertaining them with excellent presentments, & exercising them with the best lectures, and at once expressing a common amiableness of the soul, and body? Now that all this is performed with Music, and number, is not the disparagement but praise of dancing.  Crato. 
I have not much leisure to hear a mad man speak in praise of his distemper: yet if you will needs vent your toys, I am prepared to yield you friendly attention, and to lend my ears, and shall be able without wax to endure your triflings. Here, then, I become silent, speak your pleasure, as if no man heard you.  Lycinus. 
'Twas the thing I should have craved of you, Crato. For you shall shortly perceive whether what I shall say appear to you trifling. First, then, you plainly seem to me not to know, that dancing is no new invention, or of yesterday, or the other day's growth, or born among our forefathers, or their Ancestors. But they who most truly derive dancing, say it sprung with the first beginning of the universe; and had a birth equally as ancient as love. Since the regular motion of the stars, and the combination of the fixed with the planets, their musical consort, and well ordered harmony, are but so many examples of the original of dancing. Which increasing by degrees, and always gaining new accesses for the best, hath at length arrived to its perfection, and is become a various, harmonious, and musical virtue. The Goddess Cybele, as they report, first delighted with the Art, enjoined the Coribantes in Phrygia, and the Curetes in Crect, to use dancing. From whose practice of it she received no small benefit. For they, dancing round him, saved her son jupiter; who cannot but ascribe his preservation to them, by whose measures he escaped his father's teeth. The manner of their dancing was in Armour, with Swords clashed against Bucklers; at once expressing a divinely inspired, & warlike measure. In time, the noblest Cretans studiously addicting themselves to this exercise, became most excellent dancers, as well private men, as Princes, and such as bore sway. Homer, therefore, intending not to disparage but to commend Meriones, called him Dancer: Who was so famous and generally renowned for this quality, that he was thereby not only known to the greeks, but to the Trojans his enemies too. Who observed, I suppose, a kind of beauty in his fights, and musical Gesture, which he took in from dancing. The verses speak thus of him; 
Soon had my Spear pierced thee, Meriones,  
Although a Dancer—   
Though he were not, in truth▪ vanquished, but by his Skill in dancing, I suppose, easily avoided the darts hurled at him. Though I might make instance in divers other Hero's who busied themselves in this quality, & made their exercise an Art; Yet I will content myself with Neoptolemus, Achilles' son: Who so excelled in this Science, that he added thereto the noblest kind, from him called the Pyrrhichian Dance. Achilles, also, himself, hearing thus much of his son, was more joyed, I believe, then with his excellent shape, or strength of body. Nay the City of Troy remained unconquered, till by his skill in dancing 'twas ruined, and laid level with the ground. The Lacedæmonians, also, who were always held the stoutest Grecians, having learned from Castor, and Pollux to Caryatize (which is a kind of Dance, taught at first by the Caryans, a people of Laconia,) performed all their Achievements afterwards in music; and made war by the sound of the pipe, and the orderly tread and measures of the foot, so that the fife still gave the signal to the battle; which made them so universally victorious, music and numbers still directing their Marches. You may observe their young men no less addicted to dancing, then to bear Arms. For having at Arms end a while struggled, and mutually given, and received blows, after a short respite, their encounters end in a dance. Where a minstrel set in the midst, plays, and keeps time with his foot; whilst they regularly following one another, and ordering their motions by his tunes, cast themselves into figures of all sorts; sometimes warlike; sometimes amorous; most suitable to Bacchus, and Venus. Nay the Song which they sing in dancing wears the name of Venus, and Cupid; As if they joined with them in their sporting and dancing. And another song they have (for they sing too) which comprehends how to dance; and runs thus.  

far, Boys, be hence unskilful feet:  
Let every step in numbers meet.   
That is, dance better. The like custom have they who danced the Bracelet. A kind of dance common to young men, and virgins. In which one so succeeded another, as to resemble a Bracelet. For a young man led, and expressed all the youthful motions which he was to practise afterwards in the war; A Virgin blushingly followed, and so expressed the motions of a woman, that from both sprung a Bracelet, compounded of modesty, and valour. Like to these is the dance called the Bare feet. As for the dance, which Homer, in his shield, makes for Ariadne, and that other dance contrived by Daedalus for her, I pass over as well known to you. As, also, the two leaders of the dance, which the Poet there calls dancers on their heads; besides what he there says; 
The Youths in Dancing rolled   
As if dancing were the greatest ornament, Vulcan had inserted into the shield. Nor is it strange that the Corcyrans' should so much delight in dancing, being a people so delicate, and so abounding with all plenty. That, therefore, which Homer makes Ulysses most admire amongst them was the nimbleness of their feet. In Thessaly the exercise of dancing hath so prevailed, that they style their Princes, and Generals the Leaders of the dance. As appears by the Inscription of their Statues, which they erect to the best deservers. The City, says one, preferred him as the fore-dancer. The people, says, another, dedicate these Statues to Ilation for dancing the battle well. I spare to tell you, that you shall scarce find any ancient, religious solemnity without dancing. A custom, doubtless, instituted by Orpheus, Musaeus, and other excellent Dancers of that time: who, as a thing most becoming, decreed; that none should be initiated to such rites but with measure, and dancing. And to prove this true, they, who were initiated, were bound not to reveal their rites to those that were not. From whence they who divulge mysteries, as all know, are proverbially said to undance them. At Delos no sacrifices were offered without dancing, and music. Where a Choir of boys, entering with a flute and harp, danced, and they, who among them were judged the most skilful, followed. From whence the tunes which were composed for such Quires were called dance-tunes, and were set for the Viol. But why insist I upon the Grecians; since the Indians, every morning when they rise, pray to the Sun, not as we do, who hold the kill of our hand to be a complete devotion, but turning themselves towards the East, salute the Sun with a Dance; silently ordering their postures, and motions, in imitation of his. And this among the Indians is prayer, devotion, and sacrifice, with which twice a day, mornings, and evenings, they keep the Sun propitious. Then, the Aethiopians always go to war dancing. Nor will a Moor offer to pluck an arrow from his head (which serves them in stead of quivers stuck round with shafts like so many rays) till he have first danced, and by such agitation threatened, and terrified his enemy. Nor were it amiss, having passed through India and Aethiopia, to draw our discourse down to their neighbouring Egypt. Where the ancient fiction which goes of Proteus, methinks, signify him to be only a certain Dancer, and Mimic; who could transform, and change himself into all shapes, sometimes acting the fluidness of water, sometimes the sharpness of fire, occasioned by the quickness of its aspiring motion; sometimes the fierceness of a Lion, and fury of a Libbard, and waving of an Oak; and what ever he listed. From whence the fable, wresting his natural parts something pardoxically, sained him to be really changed into the things he acted. The like abilities are found in the Dancers of our time: whom you may in an instant see suddenly metamorphosed, and turned into a Proteus▪ we may, also, conjecture that Empusa, who turned herself into a thousand shapes, was such another woman, derived to us in a fiction. After these examples 'twere Injustice to forget the dance practised by the Salii (the name of a certain Priesthood taken from dancing) in honour of Mars, the most warlike God; in which they mingled gravity with religion. Nor is the Bithynian fable altogether unsuitable to the Italian custom, which reports that Priapus, a military God, one of the Titans, I believe, or Idaean Dactyls, learned this exercise with his Arms. For Mars receiving him from juno yet a boy, boisterous, and beyond measure manly, taught him not to bear Arms before he had made him a perfect Dancer. For which the reward assigned by juno, was, that he should ever after have the tithe of his spoils taken in war. I presume you expect not I should tell you of the Bacchanals, or feasts of Bacchus; whose celebration was nothing but dancing. Now of the noblest sort of Dances, there are three kinds, the Cordacke or Comical, Sicinnidde or Satirical, & Harmonious or Tragical, which were invented by the Satyrs, the followers of Bacchus, from whom they take their names. And Bacchus himself using this Art subdued the Tuscans, Indians, and Lydians, and danced down war like Nations with Javelines wrapped in Ivye. Wherefore take heed, admired Sir, lest you prove impious thus to accuse so Divine, and Mysterious an exercise, practised by such illustrious Gods, and performed in their honour and which carries with it so much pleasure joined with so much useful discipline. I cannot but wonder, that being so great a lover of Homer, and Hesiod, as you are (for I once more betake myself to the Poets) you dare control them, who above all things praise dancing. For Homer having mustered together the things most delightful, and desirable, sleep, love, singing, and dancing, styles this last only praise worthy; ascribing, indeed, sweetness to singing, both which are found in dancing; namely Harmony of voice, and commendable measure, which you thus study to carp at. Again in another place of his poem he says; 
To some jove gives of warlike actions choice,  
Dancing to some, to some a charming voice.   
For, certainly, a good voice, joined with dancing, is very charming, and the most excellent gift of the Gods. Again Homer, having divided all things into war, and peace, opposeth this as the more commendable to the passages of war. And as for Hesiod, who went not by hear-say, but early in the morning saw the Muse's dance, in the beginning of his Poem sets this as their greatest praise, that in soft measures they danced round about a flowrye fountain, and encircled their father's Altar. Yet you, Gentle Sir, almost making war with the Gods, calumniate dancing. Though Socrates, of all men the wisest, (if we may believe Apollo, who styled him so) not only praised dancing, but vouchsafed to learn it, ascribing much to the Elegancy, and Grace, and Musical Tread, and amiable behaviour of such a mover. Nor blushed he, though old, to reck on dancing among his serious employments. In which, you may guess, he spent no small study, who refused not to learn Arts yet meaner, nor disdained to frequent the schools of the Minstrels, and to attend the Lectures of Alpasia, a known Whore. Yet he beheld this Art only in its first rising, before 'twas grown up to such height of perfection. Did he see those who in our time have advanced it to this great pitch, I assure myself, forsaking all other studies he would wholly apply his mind to this spectacle, and would teach his Scholars nothing else. In praising Comedy, and Tragedy, you seem to me to forget that in either a peculiar kind of dancing is observed; the grave in Tragedy, in Comedy the Cordack, and sometimes also the Sicinnidd. But because at first you preferred Tragedy, and Comedy, and vagrant fiddlers, and singing to the harp, before dancing; calling them truly exercises, and therefore commendable: let us, I pray, compare them severally with Dancing. Where, if please you, we will passs over the Pipe, and Harp, as parts and instruments of Dancing, and consider Tragedy as it is, first, according to its propertyes, and dress. What a deformed, and frightful fight is it to see a man raised to a prodigious length, stalking upon exalted buskins, his face disguised with a grim vizard, widely gaping, as if he meant to devour the Spectators? I forbear to speak of his stuffed Breasts, and fore-Bellyes, which make an adventitious, and artificial corpulency, lest his unnatural length should carry disproportion to his slenderness. As, also, his clamour from within, when he breaks open, and unlocks himself, and when he howls lambicks, and most ridiculously singes his own sufferings, and renders himself by his very tone odious. For as for the rest, they are inventions of ancient Poets. Yet as long as he personates only some Andromache, & Hecuba, his singing is tolerable. But for a Hercules to enter dolefully singing, and to forget himself, and neither to regard his Lion's skin, nor club, must needs, to any judging man, appear a Solcecisme. And whereas you dislike that in dancing men should act women, is a reprehension which holds for Tragedies, and Comedies too; in which are more women's parts, then mens. Besides, as part of the delight, Comedy challengeth to itself the most ridiculous parts; as Parasites, Fiddlers, and Cooks. But the propertyes of a Dancer are so comely, and decent, that I need not describe them, being visible to all but the blind. The person gracefully adorned, and agreeable to his part; not gaping like the others, but decently closed, under which many sing their own Tunes. For anciently the Dancers sung too, till 'twas found, that Motion, and shortness of Breath troubled the Voice; whereupon 'twas better contrived, that they should be sung to. The Argument of both are alike. Nor do Dances differ from Tragedies, but that These have more variety, and are more variously studied, and admit more several Changes. The reason why there are no Dancing-matches I take to be, because the Judges held it to be a thing too reverend, and solemn to be brought into Decision. Though there be a famous City in Italy, descended of the Negroponts, where Honorary Prizes are assigned to this Exercise. And here I desire to be excused for my omissions of many things not touched, and that you will not impute them to my ignorance, or want of Learning. For 'tis not unknown to me, that many have heretofore written of Dancing, and have spent most of their industry, and Style, in deciphering the several kinds of Dances; their Names, Distinctions, and who were their Inventors: wherein they thought they made show of various learning. But I, holding such ostentations superfluous, and unseasonable, and unsuitable to my person, shall pass them over in silence. Withal, I shall desire you to remember, and think, that I intent not to derive the Pedigree of Dances of all sorts, nor make it the aim of my discourse to reckon up the names of all Dances, but of those few of the Nobler sort, before mentioned. For the present then, the Summe of my defence is to praise the manner of dancing now in fashion; and to show what pleasure, and profit it comprehends, and from what an ancient beginning it hath aspired to its present Elegancy, or Veneration rather. For those Dance of the first Ages were, as it were, the roots, and foundations of Dancing, whose Flower, and grown Fruit now ripened into a perfection, is the Argument of my Defence: omitting to speak of Capering, or Crane-dancing, or the like, as impertinent to this discourse. Nor have I, out of oversight, passed by the Phrygian manner of Dancing, which was a drunken, and feastly kind of Revelling, performed in Wine, by a Rout of Clowns, who danced like Women to a Pipe, using violent and boisterous Leaping, yet in use among Country people: but because it hath no agreement with the dancing I now treat of. Though Plato in his Laws commends some of these kinds, but rejects others; distinguishing them by their pleasure, and profit, and banishing the more uncomely, prefers, and admires the rest. And thus much be spoken of Dancing itself. For to extend my discourse, to all that might be said, were troublesome. I will now unfold to you how a Dancer ought to be qualified, how practised, what to learn, and by what ways to attain his Art, that you may perceive this not to be one of the facile, and easily learned Arts, but to be attained in perfection by the help of all the other Sciences; not Music only, but Arithmetic, and Geometry, and especially your Philosophy, both natural, and moral. As for Logic, it hath been held vain and useless to it: but Rhetoric it requires, and partakes, as far as 'tis demonstrative of manners, and affections, which are the subjects of Orators too. Nor is it a stranger to Painting, and Sculpture; but imitates their Graces so exactly, as not to come short of Phidias, of Apelles himself. But above all it aims to have the two Muses, Mnemosyne, and her daughter Polyhymnia propitious, and exactly to remember all things: for, as Calchas in Homer, it behoves a Dancer to know 
Things present, past, and future.—  and not to be ignorant of any thing, but to have a memory open, and at command. In a word, 'tis an imitating and demonstrating Science; an Interpreter of conceits, and clearer of Ambiguityes. And what Thucydides said in praise of Pericles, is the thing most praise worthy in a Dancer; which is, to know what is fit, and to express it. By expression I here mean a clearness of behaviour. So that the whole business of a Dancer consists in the knowledge of ancient history, the ready remembrance of it, and expressing of it with decency. Taking, therefore, his beginning from the Chaos, and birth of the world, he must carry his knowledge as far as the age of the Egyptian Cleopatra: within which space of times we circumscribe the various learning of a Dancer. Especially, let him learn by the way the division of Heaven, the original of Venus, the Titans war, jupiters' birth, Cybel's plot, and substitution of a stone, Saturn's Imprisonment, the lottery of the three Brothers, as also the Giant's invasion, the stealth of fire, the formation of man, Prometbeus punishment, the power of love, of each sort; Then the floating of Delos, the travelling of Latona, Python's Slaughter, Tityu's Treason, and the middle of the Earth found out by the flight of Eagles. Add to this Deucalion and the Universal wrack of that Age, and the loan Ark which received and preserved all mankind, & how Men were repaired from stones. Next the dismembering of jachus, Juno's cheat, Semele's conflagration and Bacchus double birth; & whatsoever is reported of Minerva, Vulcan, and Ericbthonius; The strife about Attica, and first sentence in Areopagus; In a word, the whole Attic fable. Let him also exactly know the Errantry of Ceres and finding of her daughter, and hospitality of Celeus, & husbandry of Triptolemus, & plantation of vines by I●●rus, and the disaster of Erigone; and whatsoever goes in story of Boreas, and Orithyia, and Theseus, and Aegeus. Add to this Medea's Entertainment, and Flight afterwards to the Persians; as also Erechtheus, and Pandion's Daughters, and what they both suffered, and did in Thrace. Then let him know Acamas, and Phyllis, and Helen's first Rape, and the expedition of the Twins against the City; Hippolytus mischance, and the return of the Herculeans; all which he may read in the Attic Records, which being Athenian passages, I have briefly, for example's sake, run over. Next, let him learn the story of Megara, Nisus, and Scylla, and the purple Hair, and Mino's departure, and his ingratitude towards his Assister. To which let him add the Achievements wrought at Cithaeron, and Thebes; the calamities of the people, Cadmus' Banishment, and sign taken from the lying down of a Cow; the Serpent's teeth sown, and springing up again; as also Cadmus' transformation into a Serpent; the erection of Walls by Music, the Bvilder's madness, his wife Niobes insolent pride, and stupefaction through Grief. As, also, the story of Pentheus, Actaeon, Oedipus, and Hercules, together with his Labours, and slaughter of his Children. Nor is Corinth less fraught with stories of Glauce, and Creon; and before these Bellerophon, and Stheneboea; and the Combat between Neptune and the Sun; as also the Madness of Athamas, and aery flight of Nepheles children upon a Ram; and the Receipt of Ino, and Melicerta. To which may be added the Reports which go of the Pelopidae, and Mycenae, and more ancient than these of Inachus and Io, and her keeper Argus; of Atreus also, and Thyestes, and Aerope, and the Golden Fleece, and Pelops Wedding, and Agamemnon's slaughter, and Clytaemnestra's punishment: and more ancient yet then these; the expedition of the Seven Generals, and the receipt of Adrastus' fugitive Sons in Law, and the Oracle which was delivered of them; besides, the denial of Burial to the slain, and the destruction of Antigone, and Menoeceus thereupon; the stories also which are recorded in Neméa of Hypsipyle, and Archemorus, are monuments most necessarily to be known of a Dancer. Who before that is also to know what is said of Danae's Virginity, the birth of Perseus, and his enterprise against the Gorgon's; to which he is to join the Aethhiopic Reports which go of Cassiopea, and Andromeda and Cepheus, whom the Superstition of Antiquity have placed among the Stars. Nor ought he to be ignorant in the ancient passages of Aegyptus, and Danaus, and the Treasons of that Wedding. Nor will Lacedaemon afford a few such examples, of Hyacinthus, and Zephyrus Rival to Apollo; and the slaughter of the Boy by a Quoit, and the Flower which sprung from his blood, and the mournful Inscription written in it; as, also, the restoring of Tyndarus from the dead, and Jupiter's displeasure therefore against Aesculapius. Besides, the entertainment of Paris, and transportation of Helen, after the decision of the Apple. And to this Spartan History he is to annex the Trojan, no less copious, and full of parts; from whence, according as every one fell, may be drawn Arguments for the Stage. All which he is upon occasion to remember; especially what happened after Helen's Transportation, till the return of the Grecian Captains. Aenea's wander, also, and Dido's Love. Nor will the reports which pass of Orestes be impertinent, and of his adventures in Scythia. And before that, the stories which go of Achilles, answerable to his Trojan; his disguise of a Girl in Scyrus; Ulysses distraction, and desertion of Philoctetes; In a word, all Ulysses Travels, the stories of Circe, and Telegonus, and Aeolus Empire over the Winds, and other passages along to the revenge taken of the Suitors: And before that his circumvention of Palamedes, Nauplius Rage, Ajax Frenzy, and the shipwreck of the other Ajax against Rocks. Elis also hath many patterns for Dancers; as Oenomaus, Myrtil●s, Saturn, jupiter, and the chief Wrestlers in the Olympic Games. Nor is Arcadia less replenished with stories, of Daphne's flight, Callisto's conversion into a Bear, the Centaur's drunkenness, Pan's Parents, Alpheus' Love, and Hyphalus Peregrination. And if we will send our discourse into Crect, dancing may from thence fetch numerous examples, taken from Europa, Pasiphae, and both their Bulls; the Labyrinth, also, Ariadne, Phaedra, Minotaur, Daedalus, Icarus, Glaucus, the Prophecy of Polyides; Talo, also, and the Brazen wall of the City. If you look into Aetolia, many Instances may from thence, also, be taken for dancing; from Althaea, Meleager, Atalanta, Dalus, the Combat between the River and Hercules, the Birth of the Sirens, the Retribution of the Echinades, and habitation of Alcmaeon after his Madness; Nessus, also, and Deïaneira's Jealousy; to which is to be added the Funeral pile in Oeta. Thrace, also, hath many examples requisite to a dancer; as Orpheus, and his dismembering; his vocal Head swimming along with his Harp: Haemus, also, and Rhodope, and the punishment of Lycurgus. But Thessalia is yet more copious in instances, of Pelias, jason, Alcestis, the Fleet of fifty Ships, the Argo, and its speaking Keel; the passages of Lemnos, also concerning Aeta, Medea's dream, and dilaniation of Absyrtus, and what befell her in sailing: To which are to be added Protesilaus, and Laodameia. If you will once more pass into Asia, you shall meet with as plentiful arguments, where Samus will presently accost you, and the calamity of Polycrates, and his daughter's voyage into Persia; besides the more ancient passages of Tantalus Babbling, and his Feasting of the Gods. The eating of Pelops flesh, supplied with an Ivory shoulder. In Italy you meet with Eridanus, and Phaeton, and his sisters bewailing themselves into Poplars, and weeping Amber. A Dancer is to know all the story of the Hesperides, and the Dragon-keeper of the Golden fruit; of Geryon, also, and his conveyance of the Oxen from Erythia. Nor is he to be ignorant of all the Fabulous Transmutations which have been made of things into Trees, or Beasts, or Fowls, or Women turned into Men; I mean Caeneus, and the Prophet Tiresias, and the like: and in Phoenicia Myrrah, and the divided sorrow of the Assyrians. Nor shall he only know these, but the more modern passages, attempted by Antipater, and Seleucus, after the Macedonian Empire, for the love of Stratonice. He shall, also, know the most secret mysteries of the Egyptians; That he may the more symbolically act them; I mean Epaphus, and Osiris, and the transformation of the Gods into beasts; especially what ever is reported of their loves, and of jupiter himself, and his various shift of disguises. He shall, also, be skilled in all the passages of Hell; in their tortures, and their several causes, and in the undivided friendship of Theseus, and Pirithous, even in that infernal place. And to comprise all in a word, he shall be ignorant of nothing delivered either by Homer, or Hesiod, or the most excellent Poets, especially the Tragic. And thus have I recounted a few examples of many, or rather infinite, and rudely huddled them up in a Mass. The rest I leave to be sung by Poets, and to acted by Dancers, and to be pursued by you according to these patterns and instances. All which a Dancer must have in readiness, and prepared to be brought forth, and represented upon occasion. Now because he is to be a Mimic, and to express by motions what is sung in verse, 'tis necessary, like Orators, he should practise perspicuity, that every part of which he acts, may carry its own light, and not require an Interpreter. And as the Pythian Oracle said, he that sees a Dance, must understand the Dancer though dumb, and hear him though silent. As it befell Demetrius, the Cynic Philosopher; who, like you, spoke much in disparagement of Dancing; styling a Dancer, the idle employment of a pipe, and fiddle, and noise; who added nothing to a Mask, but an absurd, vain, and senseless motion; and that it was the part of a Juggler, not of a Dancer, to be dressed in silk clothes, guilt vizards, and to move to a pipe, and lascivious tune, and wanton voice. A skilful dancer, therefore, as the story goes, in Nero's time, and not unlearned, but well versed in history, and the Art of gesture, desired Demetrius, with the most becoming intreatyes he could, I suppose, to see him dance, and then to reprehend him. He promised also to act before him without either Pipe, or Tune, and did so: For having imposed silence to the Minstrels, and Fiddlers, and Consort, he by himself danced the Adultery of Mars and Venus, the Sun betraying them, and Vulcan plotting and catching them in a wire Net. Then every God, who was severally spectator; then Venus blushing, and Mars beseeching; In a word, he acted the whole Fable so well, that Demetrius, much pleased with the spectacle, as the greatest praise could be bestowed upon him, cried out, and in a loud voice said, I hear, my Friend, what you act; Nor do I only see them, but methinks you speak with your Hands. And because my Discourse is fallen upon Nero's times, I will report to you a passage of a Stranger concerning the same Dancer, who gave the greatest praise of his dancing that could be. This Barbarian Prince, being come from Pontus to Rome, about some business with Nero, among other entertainments saw this Dancer personate so lively, that though he knew nothing of what was sung (being half a Grecian) yet he understood all. Being to return to his Country after this entertainment of Nero's, and bid ask what he would, and it should be granted, Give me the Dancer, said he, and you shall much please me. Nero ask him of what use he could be to him, My neighbour Barbarians, said he, are of a different language, nor is it easy for me to find interpreters for them. This Fellow, therefore, as often as I have need, shall expound to me by Gestures; such praise gained his Imitations, and Dancing, being significant and clear. The chief business, and aim of Dancing, then, is, as I said, Personation; which is to be performed by the rules of Rhetoricians, especially of those who busy themselves in Declamations. In which, the thing most praiseworthy is to resemble their subjects, and not to let the things said disagree from the Princes, or Tyrant-slayers, or Beggars, or Husbandmen spoken of, but to give every one his propriety, and distinction. I will report to you the saying of another Barbarian to this purpose: who seeing five Arguments provided, (for the Presentment consisted of so many parts) and seeing but one Dancer, asked who should act, and personate the rest; and being told that one would undergo the whole performance, I was deceived in you, my Friend, said he, who have but one Body, and many Souls. Thus the Barbarian. Nor do the Italians, without reason built upon his performances, call a Dancer a Pantomime, or general Actor. The Poets excellent exhortation therefore, which says, 
When thou in City's Stay dost make,  
The mind of a pourcontrell take,  is very necessary for a Dancer, who must vary with his Argument, and transform himself into every part he represents. Especially Dancing undertakes to act, and personate behaviours, and passions of all sorts; sometimes bringing a Lover on the Stage, sometimes a choleric man, sometimes a man distracted, sometimes one lost in sorrow, and all this gracefully. And what is most strange, upon one and the same day, it presents at one time Athamas frantic, at another, Ino trembling; at another Atreus, presently after Thyestes, than Aegysthus, or Aerope, and all this by one man. In other shows, and sights, several things are severally represented; as the Pipe, or Harp, or melody of the voice, or action of a Tragedy, or merry performance of a Comedy. But a Dancer doth express all these; in whose presentations you may behold variously compounded, and mixed, the Wait, and Flute, creakings of the Feet, shrillness of the Cymbal, tuneable voice of an Actor, and consort of a Quire. Besides, in other performances, one part of the man is only employed: where some parts concern only the Soul, others the Body. But in Dancing both are mixed, where what is done exhibits the mind with the exercise, and activity of the Body. But the thing most regardful is the discretion, and decorum there observed. Lesbonax, therefore, the Mitylenian, an honest and virtuous man, used to call Dancers, Handy-wisemen; and went frequently to see them, as if he returned better from the Theatre: whose Tutor Timocrates, seeing once by chance, not of set purpose, a Dancer perform his parts, cried out, What rare sights have I lost through a Philosophical modesty? Now if it be true, what Plato delivers of the Soul; A Dancer most excellently represents the 3 parts of it: The irascible, when he acts an angry man; the Concupiscible, when he presents a Lover; and the Rational, when he puts a bridle to every affection. For Reason is mingled, and scattered with all parts of Dancing, as Feeling is with the other Senses. Now what doth this wisdom of the mind, made visible by the gracefulness of Dancing, but verify Aristotle's saying, who praising Beauty, calls it the third part of Virtue. And as for the silence sometimes used by dancers, I have heard some in a youthful Hyperbole praise it as a piece of the Pythagorean discipline. And whereas other Studies carry with them either pleasure only, or profit, dancing only hath both, and renders profit the more profitable coming dressed in pleasure. For how much a more delightful Spectacle is this, then to see Young men cuff, and flow with Blood, and wrestle in the dust, when they might much safelier, and comelier, and with more pleasure be seen in a dance. The decent motions, therefore, of dancing, graceful postures, turnings, tread, and caprings, are both delightful to the spectators, and healthful to the Actors. For I must think that the best and most proportionable exercise, which both supples the body, and renders it flexible, and pliant, and bending to all postures, and strengthens it too. How can dancing then, choose, but be the most accomplished exercise, which thus whets the soul, exerciseth the body, delights the beholders, and instructs them in much antiquity, and equally by Flutes, and Cymbals, and the gracefullnesse of the limbs, diffuseth its charms to the eyes, and ears? If, therefore, you affect the harmony of the voice where can you meet a fuller, or more melodious consort? If you delight in airs of the Cornet, or Flute, Dancing will abundantly supply you. I spare to tell you, that by such spectacles, and by frequenting the Theatre, you will be bettered in your manners, by learning to hate fowl deeds presented, and to bewail those who are innocently unfortunate; And seeing the whole behaviour of the Spectators disciplined. But that which I most extol in Dancers is their Art, both to show strength, and softness; Nor is it to me less than a Paradox, for the same person, in the same performance, to express the boystrousnesse of Hercules, and the delicacy of Venus. But I will now proceed to show how a good Dancer must be qualifyed both in his mind and body. Though I have already reckoned most of the endowments of his soul, who must have a fast memory, piercing wit, sharp understanding, able to distinguish times well; he must also be a Critic of Poems, and songs, able to discern Dittyes well composed, and to reject the ill. A draught of his body, I will give you by Polycletus rules. Which must not be over tall, nor too low, or dwarfish, but of a moderate size; neither over fleshy, which is prodigious, nor over lean, like a Sceleton, or a Anatomy. To this purpose, I will report to you some shouts of dislike uttered by a people, who are no dull observers. The citizens of Antioch are most ingenious, and much addicted to dancing; and so given to mark what is said, or done, that no passage escapes them. Seeing, upon a time, a little, short Dancer enter, and act Hector, they cried out with one voice, This is Astyanax, but where's Hector? Another time a fellow of an overgrown length preparing to dance Capaneus, and to scale the walls of Thebes, they told him he might mount the wall without a ladder. Another time, a very big, and corpulent dancer, endeavouring to vault high, We had need, said they, to underprop the Stage. To a very lean Dancer, they cried out, God strengthen you; as if he had been in a Consumption. I have alleged these Examples, not to stir your laughter, but that you may know, that whole nations have so applied their studies to dancing, as to be able to distinguish the right performance from the absurd. A Dancer, then, must be of an active, pliant, and compacted body; able upon occasion to make quick Turns, and, if need be, to stop strongly. And that Dancing is no stranger to the warlike gestures of the hands, but partakes the virtues in combating of Mercury, Pollux, and Hercules, you may perceive by several presentments. Herodotus holds, that the Representations which are taken in by the Sight, are much more authentic than those which are taken in by the Ear. Dancing satisfies both senses, and conveys such strong impressions, that a certain Lover passing through the Theatre was cured, by seeing the ill successes of Love; and though he came possessed with a deep melancholy, departed cheerful, as if he had drunk some potion of Oblivion; or, according to the Poet, Some draught of Nepenthe against Sadness. Now the sign of proper Action, and that the Presentment is universally understood, are the tears shed by the Spectators, as often as any calamitous, or tragical passage is brought upon the Stage. The Bacchanal manner of dancing, exercised especially in jonia, and Pontus, being also Satiric, doth so inchant the people, that at certain times appointed, they neglect all other business, and sit whole days to see the Titans, Corybantes, Satyrs, and Clowns acted, which are danced by the most noble, and greatest personages of every City, who think it no dishonour, but rather value themselves more for such performances, then for their Births, Attendances, and Dignities of their Ancestors. And thus having deciphered the virtues of Dancers, give me leave to decipher the vices too. Those of the Body I have shown already. Those of the Mind you may thus observe. There are many, who out of ignorance (for 'tis not possible that all should be wise) commit great Solecisms in Dancing: such, I mean, whose actions are irregular, and not to the Tune, as they say; when the Foot says one thing, and the Instrument another. Others keep proportion to the Music, but their Presentments, as I have often seen, are disproportioned to the right time. For you shall have one, who endeavouring to act Jupiter's Birth, and Saturn eating his Children, danceth Thyestes sufferings, for the affinity of the Fables. Again, another being to act Semele burnt with Lightning, likens Glauce to her, born long after. Yet is not Dancing to be scorned, because there are such Dancers; nor is the exercise to be hated, but such Actors to be held unskilful; and they to be praised, who, according to the right rules of their Art regularly make their performances. In a word, a Dancer must be every way exact, do all things with order, decency, measure, like himself, beyond detraction, blame, and imperfections; have thoughts of the best composition, an Education quick, a deep Apprehension, and especially humane: whose applause must necessarily follow his performances, when every Spectator beholds himself acted; and sees in the Dancer, as in a Glass, whatever he useth to do, or suffer. For than men cannot contain for pleasure, but pour themselves forth in tumultuous praises, when every one sees the Images of his mind presented, and owns them. For the Delphic Counsel, Know thyself, is by such spectacles so artificially instilled into them, that they depart from the Theatre taught what to choose, and what to shun, and instructed in those things which before they knew not. For as in speech so in Dancing, over-affectation is the fault of many, who strive to exceed the bounds of imitation, and strain beyond Decorum. As when some great passage is to be presented, to show it over great; or if some soft passage, to present it too womanish; or to stretch some manly Achievement to savageness, and bestiality. As I once saw a Dancer, formerly much approved, and in his other performances discreet, and worthy to be admired, I know not by what mischance disgrace himself by over action. For being to dance Ajax after his vanquishment distracted, he failed so grossly, that some thought he acted not a madness, but was himself distempered. For he rend the garment of one of those who stamped in Iron shoes; and snatching a Cornet from one of the Fiddlers, struck Ulysses, who stood by, insulting for his victory, such a blow on the head, that if his Helmet had not saved him, and borne off the violence of the stroke, the wretched party had perished, and fallen prostrate at his feet. Though the whole Theatre of Spectators, as mad as Ajax, stamped, shouted, and shook their clothes. For the Rout, and Idiots, who knew not Decorum, nor were able to distinguish false action from right, took this as a great expression of fury. And the better bred, and more understanding, though they blushed at what was done, yet showed not any dislike as much as by their silence; but coloured the Dancer's folly with their commendations. Though they plainly saw not the madness of Ajax, but of the representer acted. Not herewith content the Gentleman played a prank much more ridiculous. For descending into the pit he sat down between two who had been Consuls; much afraid lest he should have mistaken, and beaten one of them for a sheep: which passage some extolled, others derided; others suspected his over Imitation had cast him into a true Madness. Others report, that after he came to himself, he was so ashamed of his action, that upon the true apprehension of his distemper, he fell sick for grief, and plainly professed it. For those of his Faction requesting him to act Ajax over again to them, When I come next upon the Stage, said he; In the mean time 'tis enough for me to have once played the Madman. But his chief discontent sprung from an Antagonist, or Anti-Actor, who represented Ajax Raging, so gracefully, and discreetly, that he was much extolled, keeping himself within the limits of dancing, and not breaking forth into any unproper action. These few examples, and exercises of dancing, of many, have I, my Friend, recounted to you, that you should not too much resent my thirst, and desire to frequent them. If, therefore, you will vouchsafe to partake of the Spectacle, I assure myself you will be inveigled, and become in love with Dancing. Nor shall I need to apply that saying of Circe to you, 
I wonder by my Cup you're not encharmed;  for you will be enchanted; not to have the head of an Ass, or heart of a Swine, but your understanding will be much more confirmed, and you for pleasure will leave little of the Potion undrunk. For what Homer says of Mercury's Golden Rod, that he thereby charms up the Eyes of whom he lists, and rewakens them from sleep, is truly verified of Dancing, which wakes, and unlocks the eyes of the Beholders, and rouzes up their minds to all the passages of Life.  Crato. 
You have persuaded me, Lycinus, and have at once opened my ears, and eyes. And, therefore, remember when hereafter you go to the Theatre, to take me along with you, that you only may not return from thence the wiser.   

The Sale of Philosophers.  The Speakers, jupiter, Mercury, a Merchant, Pythagoras, Diogenes, Democritus, Heraclitus, Socrates, Chrysippus, the Philosopher. jupiter. 
MAke you ready the Scaffolds, and provide a place for the Comers; stand you behind to produce the Lives; but first adorn them, that they may look well favoured, and allure Chapmen. Do you, Mercury, make Proclamation, and, in the name of good luck, summon Buyers to appear here in the Market. We will that you proclaim Philosophers of all sorts, and of all sects. If there be any who cannot pay ready money, he shall be trusted till the next year upon security.  Mercury. 
See, they are already assembled, so that you need lose no time, or delay them.  jupiter. 
Proceed we, then, to Sale.  Mercury. 
Whom shall I first produce?  jupiter. 
That Hairy Ionian, with the grave, and reverend look.  Mercury. 
You, Pythagorean, descend, and present yourself to the Assembly.  jupiter. 
Now make proclamation.  Mercury. 
I sell a rare, and venerable Mortal, who will buy him? who desires to be something more than a man? Or to know the Harmony of the Universe? or to live often?  Merchant. 
He hath a promising countenance; Which way lies his knowledge?  Mercury. 
In Arithmetic, Astronomy, Interpretation of Prodigies, Geometry, Music, Juggling; He is an excellent Soothsayer too.  Merchant. 
May I ask him some questions?  Mercury. 
A God's name.  Merchant. 
What Country man are you?  Pythagoras. 
A Samian.  Merchant. 
Where bred?  Pythag. 
In Egypt, among the Wise men there.  Merchant. 
Suppose I should buy you, what will you teach me?  Pythag. 
Nothing but to forget.  Merchant. 
How?  Pythag. 
First by cleansing your Soul, and scouring off the dross of it.  Merchant. 
Suppose I be already refined, how will you instruct me then?  Pythag. 
First you are to undergo a long and speechless Silence; and in five years to say nothing.  Merchant. 
Pray, my Friend, be Tutor to Croesus' son; For I mean to speak, not to be a Statue. And what shall I learn after this five years' Dumbness?  Pythag. 
Music, and Geometry.  Merchant. 
This is pleasant Education, first to be a Fiddler, than a Wise man.  Pythag. 
Next, you shall learn to number.  Merchant. 
That I can do already.  Pythag. 
How?  Merchant. 
One, two, three, four.  Pythag. 
Perceive you that what you think Four is Ten, and a perfect Triangle, and the number we swear by?  Merchant. 
I never heard more Divine or sacred discourses.  Pythag. 
Next, my Friend, you shall be taught the nature of the Earth, Air, Water, and Fire, and what is the force of each, what the form, and how they are transmuted.  Merchant. 
Have Fire, Air, and Water a Form then?  Pythagoras. 
A very visible one. For you see their motion is not formelesse, or deformed. To this you shall know that God is nothing but Number, and Harmony.  Merchant. 
You speak Wonders.  Pythag. 
Nay, more than this, you who seem one thing, shall know yourself another, and another after that.  Merchant. 
Say you, then, that I am another, and not myself, who now talk with you?  Pythag. 
Now you are, indeed, the man you are; but have heretofore appeared in another body, and under another name, and will in time undergo other changes.  Merchant. 
By your saying, then, I shall be immortal, and pass through several shapes? But enough of this. Of what Diet are you?  Pythag. 
I eat no Flesh, but all things else, except Beans.  Merch. 
Why loathe you Beans?  Pythag. 
I loathe them not, but hold them sacred and mysterious. For first they are wholly generative: and if you blanche them green, they resemble the procreative parts of a man. If boiled you lay them certain nights in the Moon shine, they will turn to Blood; and what is yet more, 'tis the custom of the Athenians to choose their Magistrates by Beans.  Merchant. 
Discreetly, & Religiously spoken. Pray strip yourself, for I much desire to see you naked. O Hercules! he hath a Golden Thigh. Sure he is some God, no Man: I'll buy him at any rate. What's the price of him?  Mercury. 
Ten Drachms.  Merchant. 
I accept him at the price.  jupiter. 
Register the Buyer's name, and country.  Mercury. 
He seems to be an Italian, of the Coasts about Croton, and Tarentum, and that part of Greece. Besides, not one, but almost three hundred do buy him among them.  jupiter. 
Let them take him away, and produce another.  Mercury. 
That slovenly fellow of Pontus, do you mean?  jupiter. 
The same.  Mercury. 
You Fellow, with the Scrip over your shoulder, stand forth, and walk round the Assembly. O yes, I sell a stout, virtuous, well-bred, free mortal: Who buys him?  Merch: 
Do you sell a Freeman, Cryer?  Mercury. 
Yes.  Merchant. 
Are you not afraid he should accuse you of Man-stealth, and summon you before the Areopagus?  Mercury. 
He cares not to be sold, but thinks himself nevertheless free.  Merchant. 
To what employment may a man put such a slovenly ill●lookt fellow, unless he should make him a Delver, or Water-bearer?  Mercury. 
That's not all, set him to keep your house, you will need no Dogs. His name is Dog.  Merchant. 
What's his Country, or Profession?  Mercury. 
You were best to ask him.  Merchant. 
I fear his crabbed, grim looks, lest he should bark, if I should draw near, and bite me. Do you not see how he lifts his Staff, and bends his Brows, and how threateningly, and Choleric he looks?  Mercury. 
Fear him not, he is very tame.  Merchant. 
Of what Country are you, my Friend?  Diogenes. 
Of all Country's.  Merchant. 
How?  Diogenes. 
Thou beholdest a Citizen of the World.  Merchant. 
Whom do you emulate?  Diogenes. 
Hercules.  Merchant. 
You are clubbed, indeed, like him; but why wear you not a Lion's skin too?  Diogenes. 
This ragged Coat is my Lion's skin; in which I make war, like him, against pleasures, not forced but voluntarily, of which I purpose to purge Mankind.  Merchant. 
An Heroic enterprise. But by what Science may we style you, or what Art do you profess?  Diogenes. 
I am a maker of men free, and a Physician of their passions. Briefly I desire to be a Professor of truth, and liberty.  Merchant. 
Well, Sir, if I should buy you, what will you teach me?  Diogenes. 
First, I will take you and strip you of pleasure, and confine you to poverty, and apparel you in a patched Coat. Next, I will enjoin you to labour, and toil, to sleep on the ground, to drink water, and to eat what comes next. If you have any wealth, by my directions you shall cast it into the sea. You shall take no thought for Wife, Children, or Country, but esteem them Toys. Leaving the house you were born to, you shall inhabit either some Cave, forsaken turret, or Tub. A Scrip you shall have filled with Lupins, and endorsed books. Thus furnished, you shall call yourself much happier than the greatest King. If you be beaten, or racked, you shall pretend no torment.  Merchant. 
Shall I not, say you, when I am whipped feel pain? I wear no Tortoise, or Lobster shell.  Diogenes. 
You shall imitate that saying of Euripides a little altered.  Merchant. 
What is't?  Diogenes. 

Although thou feel the pain,  
Thy tongue shall not complain   
But the things which you are chiefly to learn, are to be impudent, bold, to bark without distinction at all, both Kings, and private men. A way to make them regard and admire you, for a valiant man. Let your speech be Barbarous, and your Elocution rude, and Artless, like a dog. Let your look be forced and your Gate be agreeable to your look. In a word, let your whole behaviour be beastly and savage. Be Modestly, Gentleness, and moderation far from you, and all blushing quite blotted out of your face. You are to frequent, also, populous places, and there to walk alone, and unaccompanied, and neither to salute acquaintance, or stranger; for that were to destroy your Empire. Then, you are undauntedly to do that in public, which no man else would do in private, and to perform the Acts of Venus after the most ridiculous manner. In a word, out of resolution you are to eat a raw Pourcontrell, or Cuttlefish, and so to die.  Merchant. 
These are most beastly, and unmanly Instructions.  Diogenes. 
But easy, Sir, and obvious to be attained to. For hereby you will neither need Education, or Studies, or such like trifles, but will arrive at Glory a more compendious way. Though you be an Idiot, or Tanner, or Salter, or Mason, or Banker, yet these are no hindrances, why you should not be admired, if you have impudence, and boldness, and can artificially rail.  Merchant. 
I need you not for such employments. You may, perhaps, in time, make a Sailor, or Gardiner, if the Seller here will part with you for at most two pence.  Mercury. 
Take him, for we would fain be rid of him, he keeps such a noise, and clamour, snarls at us all, and talks so scurvily.  jupiter. 
Call for the next; that Cyrenian, in purple, with a Chaplet on his head.  Mercury. 
O yes, draw you all near. Here I present you with a costly purchase, and fit for the rich; a delightful, thrice●happy mortal. Who loves pleasure? come and buy a most luxurious Philosopher.  Merchant. 
Stand out, you, and tell what you can do: for I will buy you, if you be good for any thing.  Mercury. 
Pray, Sir, trouble him not with questions; he is drunk you see, and cannot answer you, his tongue trips.  Merchant. 
What man in his right wits would buy such a debauched, intemperate fellow? how he smells of perfumes? and how reelingly, and unballast he moves? do you therefore, Mercury, report his qualities, and what he can do sober.  Mercury. 
Briefly then, he is a Jovial companion at meals, a good Reveller, and fit for an amorous, prodigal Master. He is well studied in Banquets, and a very skilful Purveyor; In a word, he is a very Sophist of Luxury. He was bred at Athens, served certain Tyrants of Sicily, by whom he was much favoured; his chief end and choice is to despise all things, to enjoy all things, and to seek pleasures wheresover they may be found.  Merch. 
Pray look about for some rich, and wealthy Chapman, I am not fit to buy such a Jovial Attendant.  Mercury. 
'Tis to be feared, jupiter, this fellow will not be bought.  jupiter. 
Remove him, then, and produce others: the two yonder, the Abderite, who laughs, and the Ephesian who weeps; for they will sell together.  Mercury. 
Stand forth in the midst. O yes, I sell a most rare pair of mortals, and cry a couple of the wisest of all Philosophers.  Merchant. 
O jupiter, how unlike they are! One always laughs, the other seems to lament some body, and incessantly weeps. Why do you laugh so, my Friend?  Democritus. 
Because all your business, and selves seem to me things to be laughed at.  Merchant. 
How? do you laugh at us, and flight our affairs, as things of nought?  Democritus. 
Even so. They have nothing considerable in them, but all things are vanity, an endless heap of Atoms.  Merchant. 
'Tis not so; you are rather a vain man, and unexperienced. O Contumely! wilt thou not cease to fleer? And why weep you, good Friend? For I hold it much better to talk with you.  Heraclitus. 
ay, stranger, hold all humane affairs wretched, and deplorable; wholly liable to Fate, which makes me thus pity, and bewail them. The things present do not much touch me; but the calamities which are to happen hereafter, I mean the conflagration and ruin of the universe, are things I thus lament; As also, to consider that nothing is certain, or fixed, but all things are wrapped up in a confusion; the same thing pleaseth and offends, knowledge and ignorance, great and small, high and low, wheel in a circle, and shift order in the May-games of time.  Merch. 
What is time?  Heracl. 
A Boy playing at dice, throwing several chances.  Merch. 
What are Men?  Heracl. 
Mortal Gods.  Merch. 
What are Gods?  Heracl. 
Immortal men.  Merchant. 
You speak riddles my friend, and build Labyrinths; and, like Apollo, speak nothing clearly.  Heracl. 
I am not to humour you.  Merchant. 
Nor will any man in his wits buy such a fellow.  Heracl. 
My custom is to bid all men from their infancy to weep, as well those that buy me, as those that buy me not.  Merchant. 
This is an humour next to madness; I'll buy neither of these.  Mercury. 
These will lie upon our hands too.  jupiter. 
Cry another, then.  Mercury. 
The smooth tongued Athenian yonder?  jupiter. 
Yes.  Mercury. 
Come hither, you. I cry a virtuous and discreet Mortal; A most sacred Philosopher; who buys him?  Merchant. 
Say, where most lies your Learning, Friend?  Socrates. 
I teach young Boys, and am a Philosopher of Love.  Merchant. 
What shall I give for thee? for I want a Schoolmaster to a handsome Son I have.  Socrates. 
Who is fitter than I to converse with a fair Boy? who am not a lover of their bodies, but hold their souls only beautiful. And though they lie with me under the same Rug, yet you shall not hear them complain of my misusage.  Merchant. 
'Tis incredible, being a Buggerer, as you are, you should only affect their soul; especially having them in your power, under the same Coverlet.  Socrates. 
I swear by a Dog, and Planetree, 'tis so as I tell you.  Merchant. 
O Hercules! what a disparagement is this to the Gods?  Socrates. 
Why, is not a Dog, think you, a God? what think you of Anubis in Egypt, and of the Dog-star in Heaven, and Cerberus in Hell?  Merchant. 
You say true, I mistook indeed. Pray what is your profession?  Socrates. 
I build to myself a City, observe a strange Policy, and prescribe my own Laws.  Merchant. 
I would fain hear one of your Institutions.  Socrates. 
Hear, then, one of the greatest concerning Wedlock. I would have no man have his Wife to himself, but in common with any that should desire her.  Merchant. 
Would you have the Laws concerning Adultery repealed, then?  Socrates. 
Yes, and all such petty Statutes.  Merchant. 
How would you dispose of amiable boys?  Socrates. 
They should be for rewards to the virtuous, who had achieved any famous, and youthful Exploit.  Merchant. 
How bountiful you are! And pray what is the sum of your wisdom?  Socrates. 
Ideas, and patterns of things. For of all these things which you see, as the Earth, things in the Earth, heaven, and Sea, there are certain invisible Images, and ideas out of the world.  Merchant. 
Where do they reside?  Socrates. 
No where. For if they were any where, they were not.  Merchant. 
I see no such Ideas as you speak of.  Socrates. 
No marvel; the eye of your mind is blind. I plainly see the Images of all things, you unappearing; myself elsewhere, and, in a word, all things double.  Merchant. 
Well, Sir, since you are so wise, and quicksighted, I'll buy you. What will you take for him, Cryer?  Mercury. 
Two Talents.  Merchant. 
I'll give what ere you ask. To morrow the money shall be paid in.  Mercury. 
What may I call your name?  Merchant. 
Dion of Syracuse.  Mercury. 
Send you a good pennyworth. Epicurus, I call you next: Who will buy this Philosopher? He was Scholar to that Laugher, and Drunkard whom I cried before; only he excels them in one thing, that is, he is much more an Atheist. In all things else he is a pleasant, Jovial companion.  Merchant. 
What's his price?  Mercury. 
Two Drachmas.  Merchant. 
There they are; but pray tell me first what Diet he is of?  Mercury. 
He loves Sweetmeats, and Preserves, especially dried Figs.  Merchant. 
These are of easy provision. I will buy him Figs by the frail.  jupiter. 
Call forth another; that rough skinned, sour looked Stoic.  Mercury. 
You say well: The whole multitude expect him. O yes, I sell Virtue itself; a most accomplished mortal. Who desires to know all things alone?  Merchant. 
How say you?  Mercury. 
Marry that this Philosopher is only wise, only beautiful, only just, valiant, a King, Rhetorician, rich, a Lawgiver, and all things also.  Merchant. 
Pray Sir, is he a Cook too?  Mercury. 
And a Tanner, and Mason, and what you will.  Merchant. 
'Tis very likely. Come hither, friend, and tell me your Buyer who you are. But first, whither it grieve you not to be sold, and made a servant.  Chrysippus. 
Not at all; for these are things not in our power; And whatsoever is not in our power, is to be held indifferent.  Merchant. 
I understand you not.  Chrysippus. 
How? Do you not understand that some of these things are proegmenicall, others not proegmenicall?  Merchant. 
Nor yet do I conceive you.  Chrysippus. 
No marvel; you are not accustomed to our Terms. Nor have you a capable fancy. But a student, who hath learned the Theory of Logic, knows not only such words, but what accidents are, and praeter accidents, and how they differ.  Merchant. 
For Philosophy sake without envy, tell me what is accident, and praeter-accident. For I am confounded with your acquaint Terms.  Chrysippus. 
Without reservation, then, if one be lame, and through lameness stumble against a stone, and unexpectedly receive a hurt, his lameness was accidental to him, his hurt praeter-accidentall.  Merchant. 
Miraculously acute! What else do you chiefly profess to know?  Chrysippus. 
Nets of speech, by which I entangle, and ensnare those I talk with; make them hold their peace, by putting a bridle to their mouth. The name of the power by which I do this, is celebrated Syllogism.  Merchant. 
By Hercules, It must be of a strong and resistless virtue.  Chrysippus. 
Pray mark. Have you a good child?  Merchant. 
Why ask you?  Chrysippus. 
Suppose a Crocodile should catch this child, finding him walking near the river, and should afterwards promise to restore him, upon condition you tell him true what he hath resolved with himself concerning his restitution, what would you say he had resolved upon?  Merchant. 
You propose a question hard to be answered. For I doubt whether I should say, that I should receive him again. But for Ioves sake answer you, and save the child before he be devoured.  Chrysippus. 
Fear not. I'll teach you things yet more wonderful.  Merchant. 
What are they?  Chrysippus. 
The Concluder, the Commander, but above all the Electra, and Cryptick question, or concealment.  Merch. 
What is the Cryptick or Electra, you speak of?  Chrysippus. 
Electra was Agamemnon's Daughter; who at the same time knew a thing, and knew it not. For Orestes standing by her unknown, she knew Orestes to be her Brother, but knew not him to be Orestes. Next hear what the admired Cryptick question is. For let me ask you; do you know your own father?  Merchant. 
Yes.  Chrysippus. 
Suppose, then, I should bring one veyld into your company, and should ask whether you knew him, what would you say?  Merchant. 
That I knew him not.  Crysippus. 
But 'tis your father. If, therefore, you know not who 'tis, you know not your father  Merchant. 
ay, but, Sir, as soon as I undisguise him, I shall know the truth. But what end propose you to your wisdom? And by what means will you arrive to the height of virtue?  Chrysippus. 
First I busy myself about the chiefest things in nature. As riches, health, and the like; but first much labour is necessarily to be undergone. The sight to be accustomed to small prints, comments to be compiled, Solecisms, and absurd speeches to be noted. In a word, no man can be wise till he have drunk Hellebore thrice.  Merchant. 
Your studies are very generous, and manly. But to be a Banker, or Usurer (for such a one you are) must a man drink Hellebore, and be perfectly virtuous?  Chrysip. 
He must. For 'tis fit only for a wise man to let out money, whose property only is to make Syllogisms. For to let out money, and to compute the usury, have near affinity with making of Syllogisms. So that as the one agrees only to a virtuous man, so doth the other, who is not to take single increase like other men, but use upon use. For do you not know that there is a first, and second use, and one the offspring of the other? You may perceive it in this Syllogism; 
He that receives the first use is to  
receive the second,  
But he hath received the first use, ergo  
He is to receive the second.   Merchant. 
Holds this, I pray, for the rewards too, which you take for reading wisdom to your Scholars? Methinks virtuous men should aim at no reward but virtue.  Chrysippus. 
You are my Scholar. I receive pay not for my own, but the giver's sake. For if he be liberal and I frugal, I by exercising my frugality exercise his liberality.  Merchant. 
On the contrary, suppose the Scholar thrifty, and yourself a prodigal.  Chrysip. 
You flout me, Sir; but take heed lest I retort an invincible Syllogism.  Merchant. 
What Peril accompanies your dart?  Chrysippus. 
Doubt, and silence, and overthrow of your understanding; and, what is yet more, if I please, I will presently demonstrate you to be a stone.  Merchant. 
How! A Stone. You seem not, Sir, to be a Perseus.  Crysippus. 
Thus. Is a stone a body?  Merchant. 
Yes.  Chrysippus. 
And is an animal a body?  Merchant. 
Yes.  Chrysippus. 
And are you an animal?  Merchant. 
I think I am.  Chrysippus. 
Why, then, being a body, you are a stone?  Merch. 
Not so, Sir. But for Ioves sake restore me, and make me a man again.  Chrysippus. 
'Tis not difficult. Be, therefore, a man again. For tell me, is every body an animal?  Merchant. 
No.  Chrysippus. 
Is a stone an animal?  Merchant. 
No.  Chrysippus. 
But you are a body.  Merchant. 
'Tis true.  Chrysippus. 
And as you are a body, so you are an animal too.  Merchant. 
I grant it.  Chrysippus. 
Therefore being an animal you are no stone.  Merch. 
Trust me, Sir, you did almost benumb me like Niobe; and I felt my limbs growing stiff. I'll buy you. What shall I pay for him?  Mercury. 
Ten pound.  Merchant. 
There ' 'tis.  Mercury. 
Do you alone buy him?  Merchant. 
No; but all these you see.  Mercury. 
They are a strong shouldered number, and fit for the concluding Science.  jupiter. 
Waste not Time▪ but call another.  Mercury. 
You famous, rich Peripatetic, I summon you; stand forth, most worthy to be sold; who alone knowest all things.  Merchant. 
Whose this  Mercury. 
A temperate, modest, orderly carriaged, and what is yet more, a double Philosopher.  Merch. 
How double?  Mercury. 
He seems one thing without, and is another within. If therefore, you buy him, remember you call him Inside, and Outside.  Merch. 
Which way lies his knowledge most?  Mercury. 
He holds there are three sorts of good, one of the soul, another of the body, a third extrinsecall to both.  Merch. 
He hath the learning of a man. How do you value him?  Mercury. 
At twenty pounds.  Merch. 
'Tis too dear.  Mercury. 
Not so, Sir; he seems to have money of his own, so that you will not repent your bargain. Besides, you will ere long learn of him how long a gnat lives; at what depth the Sun shines into the sea; and what soul Oysters have.  Merchant. 
By Hercules, most exquisite knowledge.  Mercury. 
you shall hear far greater subtileties than these, concerning nativities, and generations, and the forming of Embryo's in the womb, how a man is visible, and an as●e not, nor able to build, or sail.  Merch. 
You report most venerable, and useful Sciences. There's twenty pound for him.  Mercury. 
Take him. Is there any yet left? O, you Sceptic, Pyrromick, stand forth, you are next to be cried. The multitude departs apace, and the market is reduced to a few; who'll buy this Philosopher?  Merch. 
I will. But first tell me, what thou knowest?  Philosopher. 
Nothing.  Merchant. 
How so?  Philosoph. 
Because nothing seems to me to have a being.  Merch. 
Have you no being then?  Philosoph. 
'Tis more than I know.  Merchant. 
And hast thou no being?  Philosopher. 
I know this much less.  Merch. 
O Ignorant! But what meanest thou by these scales?  Philosoph. 
I weigh Arguments in them, and reduce them to an equality; and when I see them exactly equal and of like weight, I know not which is the truer.  Merch. 
What canst thou do else?  Philosoph. 
All things but pursue a fugitive servant.  Merch, 
Why is this impossible?  Philosoph. 
Because I cannot apprehend him.  Merchant. 
Likely enough. Being so lazy, all slow-paced as thou seemest to be. But what is the end of thy knowledge?  Philosoph. 
Ignorance; and neither to hear nor see.  Merch. 
Art thou then deaf, and blind?  Philosoph. 
More, I want both reason, and sense, and differ not at all from a worm.  Merch. 
Well, I'll buy thee. How do you sell him?  Mercury. 
For an Attic pound.  Merch. 
There ' 'tis. What say you, friend, have I bought you?  Philosoph. 
'Tis uncertain.  Merch. 
I have bought thee, and paid the money.  Philosoph. 
I do think; and consider of it.  Merch. 
Follow me, therefore, as a servant.  Philosoph. 
Who knows whether you say true?  Merh. 
The Crier here, and my money, and the standers by.  Philosoph. 
Are there any standers by.  Merchant. 
I your master putting you into bridewell, will persuade you by a worse argument that there are.  Philosoph: 
I doubt that.  Merch: 
By jove I'll make it appear,  Mercury. 
Cease your contradictions, and follow him that hath bought you. To morrow good people, if you come, I will cry Idiot, Mechanic, and vulgar Mortals.   

The Fisherman, or Philosophers revived.  Socrates. 
Throw, throw showers of stones at this mischievous fellow, pelt him with Clods, and Brick-bars, knock the detractor down with Clubs, see he scape not. Throw, Plato, and you, Chrysippus, and you. Let's all take Arms against him. 
Let Scrip aid Scrip, and Staff lend help to Staff,  For he is a common enemy, and there is not one of us which he hath not injured. Now, if ever, Diogenes, use thy Cudgel, and cease not. Let the railer feel his reward. How now? What weary, Aristippus? It ought not to be; 
Be wise, and call your sharpest fury up.  Aristotle, quickly come hither; so, so the wild beast is taken. Have we caught you, Mischief? We'll make you presently know, what kind of men you have abused. How shall we deal with him? Le's contrive various death for him able to satisfy us all, for he hath deserved to be slain of us seven times a piece.  Plato. 
My doom is that we crucify him, but whip him first, then pluck out his eyes, and cut out his tongue. What's yours, Empedocles?  Empedocles. 
That we cast him into the Caverns of Aetna, there to learn that his betters are not to be jeered.  Plato. 
'Twere better we dismembered him like a Pentheus, or Orpheus, found piecemeal in some rocky place, that every passenger may carry away a limb.  Lucian. 
Hold, and spare me, I beseech you.  Socrates. 
You must not scape so. You know what Homer says: 
'Twixt Men and Lions no sure league can be.   Lucian. 
I also can beseech you out of Homer, since 'tis likely you reverence his verses, and will not scorn my collections: 
Save me I'm innocent, and for your hire  
Take Gold, and Silver, which you wise desire.   Plato. 
We want not a reply for you out of Homer, harken, therefore.  

No offer shall thus liberty persuade  
Though clothed in Gold, since thou art Captive made:   Lucian. 
O Calamity! Homer my greatest hope fails me. Euripides then must be my refuge; and may perhaps preserve me.  

A Supplicant to kill,  
Hath been unlawful still.   Plato. 
But doth not Euripides say too, 
No punishment's unfit  
For them who Crimes commit.   Lucian. 
So, then, with this sentence you mean to slay me.  Plato. 
By jupiter yes, for he says in another place, 
He his own fate doth draw  
Whose free tongue keeps no law.   Lucian. 
Well, since you are resolved to kill me, and since there is no way to escape you, pray tell me who you are, and what heinous injury you have suffered from me, so intolerably to provoke you, and thus to apprehend me for my death?  Plato. 
Ask thyself, mischief, what harm thou hast done us, and thy trim works, in which thou hast injuriously defamed Philosophy herself, and heaped disgraces on us, by offering wise men, nay, which is yet more, men free borne, as it were in public market to sale. Moved therefore with indignation, we have risen from the dead against thee, and as many as thou seest here, Chrysippus, Epicurus, Plato Myself, Aristotle there, and silent Pythagoras, Diogenes also, and as many of us as thou hast libelled have for a while left the inferior world.  Lucianus. 
I am relieved. No● will you slay me, when you know what my conversation among you hath been. Cast away your stones, therefore, or rather keep them for deservers.  Plato. 
Trifler, to day thou perishest; 'tis decreed, thou shalt expiate thy offences with a stone garment.  Lucian. 
But I am one, wise Sirs, whom of all men you ought to praise, bred among you, well instructed, of your opinion. And (if I may speak without being burdensome) an advancer of your studies. Consider well therefore, whom you slay, if you slay me, who have undergone so many toils in your behalf. Consider also whether by this course you shall not show your selves like the Philosophers of these times, ungrateful, Choleric, and senseless towards your benefactor.  Plato. 
O Impudence! are we to repay your detractions with gratitude? Do you think you talk with bondmen indeed? or that we are to requite raylings and intemperance of speech with favours?  Lucian. 
Where or when have I injured you? who have constantly admired Philosophy; and always extolled yourselves, and convert with the works you left behind you From whence have I taken all my discourses but from you, which like a be having gathered from your flowers, I have made public to men? Who both praise, and acknowledge every man's flower, and perceive whence, and from whom, and how I gathered it, and speak with emulation of my Collections; but more truly through them admire you, and your gardens, which have brought forth such various, and many shaped productions. Which if one know how to mingle, and interweave, and proportion, so as one shall not disagree from another, can it be possible thus taught he should detract from you? Or disparage those good men of which he strives to be thought one? Unless like Thamies, or Eurytus, he be of such an ill nature, that he dare challenge the Muses, of whom he learned to sing, or Apollo, who taught him to shoot?  
FINIS   

The TABLE.  
1. AN Answer to one that said You are Prometheus in your Speeches. 
1  2. An Epistle to Nigrinus. 
5  3. Nigrinus, or the Manners of Philosophers. 
ibid.  4. The Kings-Fisher, or a Discourse of Transformations. 
20  5. Prometheus or Caucasus. 
24  6. A Dialogue between Prometheus and Jupiter. 
32  7. A Dialogue betweem Jupiter and Cupid. 
33  8. A Dialogue between Apollo and Vulcan. 
34  9 A Dialogue between Jupiter and Vulcan. 
35  10. A Dialogue between Jupiter, Aesculapius and Hercules. 
37  11. A Dialogue between Juno and Jupiter. 
38  12. A Dialogue between Venus and Cupid. 
39  13. A Dialogue between Mars and Mercury. 
40  14. A Dialogue between Jupiter and the Sun. 
41  15. A Dialogue between Cyclops and Neptune. 
42  16. A Dialogue between Alpheus and Neptune. 
44  17. A Dialogue between Menelaus and Proteus. 
45  18. A Dialogue between Neptune and a Dolphin. 
46  19 A Dialogue between Diogenes and Pollux. 
47  20. Pluto, or a complaint against Menippus. 
49  21. A Dialogue between Pluto and Mercury. 
50  22. A Dialogue between Terpsion and Pluto. 
51  23. A Dialogue between Zenophantes, and Callidemides. 
53  24. A Dialogue between Cnemon and Damnippus. 
54  25. A Dialogue between Charon, Mercury, a company of dead men, Menippus, Chermoleus, Lampicus, Damasius, a Philosopher, and a Rhetorician. 
ib.  26. A Dialogue between Crates, and Diogenes. 
59  27. A Discourse between Alexander, Hannibal, Minos, Scipio. 
61  28. A Discourse between Diogenes and Alexander. 
64  29. A Discourse of Followers, and such as are employed for reward 
66  30. A Defence of those who are employed for reward. 
91  31. The Tyrant-Slayer. 
98  32. The Disinherited Son. 
109  33. Alexander, or the false Prophet. 
127  34. Toxaris, or a Discourse of Friendship. 
153  35. Anacharsis, or a Discourse of Exercises. 
187  36. A Discourse of Sorrowing for the Dead. 
209  37. Hercules of Gaul, or a Discourse of Eloquence. 
215  38. The Ship, or a Discourse of Wishes. 
218  39 The Counsel of your Gods. 
238  40. The Decree: 
243  41. The Images: 
245  42. A Defence of your former Discourse. 
256  43. Jupiter Tragedian, or a Discourse of Providence. 
268  44. The Cynic. 
293  45. Jupiter Confuted, or a Discourse of Destiny. 
302  46. The Parasite. 
311  47. The Lover of Lies, or the incredulous. 
334  48. A defence of Dancing. 
354  49. The Sale of Philosophers. 
379  50. The Fishermen, or Philosophers revived. 
395   
FINIS.