THE LIFE OF A satirical puppy, Called NIM.  
WHO WORRIETH ALL THOSE satirists HE knows, AND barks AT THE REST.  
By T. M.  
LONDON, Printed by for Humphrey Moseley, at the Prince's arms in St. Paul's churchyard. 1657.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, and most eminent GEORGE Duke of BUCKINGHAM, etc:  
Great Sir,  
EXpectation flattering my hopes, shortened the way from London hither: but now the Servants slow aspects, & reserved behaviours, might scare young modesty, from venturing to approach. Yet I excuse the small address, they suffer to your noble person, by saying, they know the worth of it: therefore make it not cheap to every eye. And in supposing all Strangers to be suitors, they proclaim your abode the very Seat, where all Justice doth inhabit. Here I arrive empty of mercenary Thoughts; for Duty hath preferred me to such a strange ambition, that I do even give unto your gracious self Nim, and Bung his man, both born to attend your lordship's mirth. It was made, transcribed, and bound up yours, nay I was so zealous in curiosity, that but this Copy (besides the Original) is extant Had not learned friends (after perusal) urged me to this boldness, Nim had known humility, who now discovers the inside of them▪ who most envy your grace's high, deserved happiness, whilst every jest proves by interpretation serious, though he nominates none. If in the least kind he degenerate from my chaste intents, tear it▪ into a form more displeasing then your Anger▪ All my present suit is, your Grace would deign to read it▪ which when confirmed by promise, I shall return to▪ London, and publish my success.  
Your grace's humblest Servant T. M.   

THE CONTENTS OF THE CHAPTERS.  
CHAP. I. 
NIM, after his Proem to the Reader, discovers the place of his birth: and why the relation of his Childish proceedings, is omitted.  CHAP. II. 
Nim tells the Story of his patron's death, with other circumstances worth the reading.  CHAP. III. 
Nim reports the conditions of his patron's Heir; with the reason, and manner of his departure from him.  CHAP. IV. 
Nim riding towards London is overtaken by a Citizen; who tells them a merry story: besides their discourse, together with the fashion of their Host in maidenhead, is in this Chapter most punctually related.  CHAP. V. 
Nim perseveres in relating what befell them in the inn: rides from thence to London, acquaints you with a Feast worth the laughing at: treats of the City-Cries, and promiseth graver stuff hereafter.  CHAP. VI. 
Nim most wittily reveals his admirable Dream, urns satirist, and omits not the relation of those reasens, which induced him to it.  CHAP. VII. 
Nim being drunk▪ goes to hire a Servant in Paul's, and after a sober description of the Church, and Walker's, recounts how strangely he was supplied with one.  CHAP. VIII. 
Nim acquaints you with his first proceedings in his satirical calling; and inveighs against three Men, who publiqnely profess themselves to be of the same vocation.  CHAP. ix.. 
Nim doth in particular exclaim▪ against all those satirists, who hide themselves, yet publish their Writings: shows reasons for so doing: with a trick that he hath, bobs privately: delivers a brief superficial Character of the Hollanders, and relates in what manner he spent part of his time in London, when attended on by his Man Bung.  CHAP. X. 
Nim being desirous to make thee laugh, doth in this Chapter report a notable merry accident, which befell his Man Oliver Bung.  CHAP. XI. 
Nim takes occasion to present thy acceptance with a Character of a Whore, and hath graced his expression, by the relation of Bungs most witty revenge.  CHAP. XII. 
Nim complains of Bung's villainous service, intends to be rid of him, declares what himself hath spent since he came to London: and discourses most wittily upon a Book, called, An invective against the Plebeians and Citizens of London.  CHAP. XIII. 
Nim ripps open the Hearts of Citizens, condemns them justly, builds another Castle in the Air, and relates the pretty fashion of it.  CHAP. XIV. 
Nim mentions his proceedings against some of the Nobility; and what success he had: afterwards (in a Pamphlet) discovers all the defects of his own penning: sends Bung to sell it: whose bad adventures, move him to rail on Fate.  CHAP. XV, 
Nim's hostess denies to trust him, he fasts two days, pawns his clothes; then resolving to part with Bung, sends for him to a Tavern, and gives him learned counsel. But after Bungs reply, he doth change his mind, and returns with him, to his patron's Heir: promising (on a smooth condition) to bless this Book with a second Part.   
FINIS.   

THE LIFE OF A satirical PUPPY; Called NIM: WHO WORRIETH ALL THOSE satirists HE KNOWS, AND BARKS AT THE REST.  

CHAP. I.  
NIM after his Proem to the Reader, discovers the place of his Birth; and why the relation of his childish proceedings, is omitted.  
IF by divulging my defects, I present in some particular thine▪ to thy remembrance; it will not only recompense my labour in Writing, but thine in Reading. I make the whole World my Confessor: preferring a public commiseration, before a private shrift. What I have done, I have done: nor shalt thou behold my Penitence, until thine▪ Eyes arrive to the end of our History. If thou findest my faults capital, seek out my excuse in thine own guilt; and than blush for us both. I intend to wrong no man but myself, as knowing where I may most presume of pardon: therefore extract no dangerous sense from any course, ambiguous phrase. If thy approbation cease on my advice, may all the labour I spent to revive my griefs, beget mirth and thy future ease.  
First, to prevent all inquisitive expectation concerning my Parentage, I will relate it to you. My Father was a Gentleman by birth, though Time hath stolen away his coat, and disguised him in necessity. My Mother (subject to the same fortune) may plead the like in her defence: lest detraction (Advantaged by laying hold on my behaviour in the World) might wrong her Ancestors. He was never staked to a certain place of residence: but went on Pilgrimage fourteen years to visit the Shrine of Saint Charity; at last found it Wintring, (or at least very cold) in Hackney, three Miles distant from London.  
The fat Miller there (a notable old thief) made him his Tenant: but he gulled his own Conscience with an excusive proverb (fallere fallentem non est fraus) & him of five years' Rent, with running away. Leaving me (very young) as pawn to the Parish for that, and other borrowed Money, till Fortune, and his honesty, could procure my redemption. But as the Miller swore in a prophetic fury, (that will never be) so it hath proved: nor have I since so much as heard from him, or can devise whither he went. Therefore in revenge of such unnatural dealing I will quite exempt the memory of him from our Story, and return to the Miller: as I needs must, since Necessity is my Guide, and hath left me nowhere else to go. His Countenance (Poor Man) lours in a most preposterous form: for his eyes are heavy, which naturally require the light. His plump cheeks (that were wont to be so immodest as to kiss his shoulders) resemble now Famine painted on a clean Trencher. His great Belly (that barred him the sight of both his knees) is grown invisible itself. All his discourse tends to the description of my father's dexterity in running away, which he admires with Curses.  
There is a goodly meadow joining to his House, encompassed with a River: whose beauty in the Summer, did often invite my wantonness, to sport with May-Flies, dabble in the water, hunt my shadow: all which expressed how truly senseless I was, that a compelled Charity from divers men, maintained my being. If the sottish old Man met me there, he would even singe his Beard with a scorching sigh, and quench the Liquid flame again with tears. villain (quoth he) Where is my Rent? a plague upon your father's dexterity! his London debts, that were due to him on Whitsunday was twelvemonth! his Christmas-tales! his costly-invitations; my Wife, my two sons, and myself to a buttered Parsnip, three poached eggs, and a dried Cucumber. go from my sight, you Bastard: must you live so merry (with a pox) upon other men's costs? your greasy chops (thanks to my sins) doth cost me for my share, two pence a week. None of this could my young capacity apprehend; wherefore Nature did not only make ignorance worthy his envy, but a defence to me, and offence to him. It was not long after when Fortune expressed her smiles, in delivering me from thence: for on a Tuesday night, a Gentleman (hot and dry with hard riding) lighted at the Mill, proffered money for a Cup of beer, and had it: I held his his Horse. The Miller (who greedily expected some occasion, whereby he might proclaim his formerlosse, and present Charity) accuses me of cheating boys at play, how I had just my father's tricks even by succession, at last blurts out all. The Gentleman marking my sparkish behaviour, and with what an innocent resolution I stood in defence of my Father, earnestly inquires after my name, which was no sooner told him, but he took me by the hand, & called me Kinsman: for he himself was a Gloucester-shire NIM, but whether there were any propinquity of blood between us, I could never yet learn. Well, he was a wealthy old bachelor, and my good genius did so far collogue with his, that without entreaty he promised to discharge the Parish of my Person within a week: his action pursued his promise too, as fast as a good Horse could bring it to me, and me to him. Under whose charge I lived, till I was one and Twenty years old: where, and in what manner I omit to discover, it being (indeed) nothing pertinent to that grave stuff, wherewith I intend to line my Book. For what passages can such green years afford, worthy thy knowledge or my description? none at all: yet some have that way (heretofore) caught the approbation of learned Readers, when in another way, they have quite lost themselves. So great a difference is there between the Times past and ours: for Fancy (whose weakness then foiled off the defects of a bad writer) is now turned to a second Zoïlus, and dulls the edge of her own delight, with absurd Carping. So singularly excellent likewise is natural instinct, admitting no second quality to pass approved under her expression. But howsoever each circumstance that my proceedings did beger after my nonage (Impartial of my future Fame, or the name of NIM) I will relate.   

CHAP. II.  
NIM Tells the Story of his patron's Death, with other circumstances, worth reading.  
THe World had not owned me full one and twenty years when my good Patron died; being old, & rich: but too well stored with Kinsmen; there were more NIMS besides myself. Won Baby came post from Gloucester, & arrived at our House two days before the funerals were sollemnized. A second squint-eied-Fop of Teuxburie, that could scarce perceive a mountain through a Prospective (Horst on his covetous desires) arrived there, the Funeral day: not to mourn (heaven knows) but upon a certain physical advertisement, that Gold is sovereign for the eyesight. My fortune proved worth a Hundred Pounds, which the good man left me by Will: in recompense of which, & all former courtesies, I am pleased to extract him a second life, from the true relation of the manner of his Death.  
He lay sick of a burning Fever a long time, his death being deferred more for the physician's gain, than his ease, or probability of ever recovering: A necessary knavery in them, and Lawyers, to make men give money for pain and trouble. Five hours before his departure hence, he bade me write his Will. The disposing a thing of such consequence to the weak managing of our decayed senses, and last minutes, expressed in him that counterfeit hope of longer life, which covetous men force from dead Hearts, and six to oppose sense; most apparent in contradiction.  
His sick Groans accompanying his words, argued (Methought) with what an ill will he parted from those gifts, and how sorry he was, he could not make his soul Executor. A great mind he had to erect an almshouse for decayed soldiers: but a poor beneficed Parson (who stood by) smothers in his own particular want, the knowledge of that superfluous height which generally his Tribe live in, and strives by the force of zealous phrase, to make himself disposer of another's Charity: pleading how much the building of a college, with allowance for Twenty fellows, would increase Learning, and memorize the noble Given. The physician (who till now sat silent on the Bed) speaks in approbation of the sick man's former intent, and maintains with lusty Argument, how necessary it is, poor soldiers that lose their Limbs abroad, in defence of their Country (returning not rich enough to buy Woodden ones) should be relieved, lest necessity arming them with an excuse; they conspire with foreign Enemies to besiege Ingratitude at home. The Parson being crossed, fell from modest discourse, to impious railing, and mixing serious absurdity, with a leaden wit he bandies Jests: amongst the rest this one was noted, because he laughed at it himself. Sir, (quoth he) belike soldiers want Purses for you to purge, & the devil hath possessed you with an imaginary inconvenience that follows good deeds. You are grown weary too of ministering physic to poor Men gratis, your Charity is cold, and lacks a wrought velved gown to warm it: or your Worship would ride a cockhorse, and change foot-cloths every Spring. No (replied the physician) custom and rugged War is in the soldier an Antidote that prevents the very effects of sickness: nor Cannon, nor Sword makes any work for us: therefore if any man (in that kind) be guilty of covetousness, it is the chirurgeon, to whom address your accusation. Yet I most admire how you can apply Pride to us, for being a thing that becomes no man we seldom wear it: but (contrary to the Proverb) it becomes you worst, though it be now in fashion with you. Your chief Men, that should be fixed in a civil posture, thereby to nourish comely imitation, have cast off ancient decency, and charm the eyes weak censure to an affectation of the Italian habit. Their state is more reserved than a Princes, or an old French Courtiers, who in his proudest distance, fears his worth too much undervalued. A fortunate Petitioner may (haply) with much obsequious phrase, recover from some underChaplaine an imperious Nod, and dance attendance but half an hour longer, according to the last addition. This made the Parson stronger in defiance: for all the company took his part, and enforced the Doctor to confess it malicious detraction, which presently he did.  
But now return we to my sick Patron, who hearing his charitable motion begot such strife, concludes negatively both ways: and presently after, lost the use of both his Eyes, denoting it with a piercing shriek, whilst we that were in the Chamber (Amazed at so sudden an alteration) tire the choleric physician, with absurd questions. The blind man can see no more hope now of longer life in this world, no though the Doctor durst once more be so impious to make him spectacles of covetous flattery, therefore he grows holy, prays, and talks of Heaven, which the Parson having by divine mercy fully assured him, he suddenly likewise lost his speech▪ some applying it to the Heavenly comfort he received, as if silence expressed it, to be above expression. Others, that (according to the Batavian Philosophy) hold the Soul dividual in herself, and each member particularly to enjoy some particular part of her, would needs persuade me the Tongue died then, that the soul of it might go before to bespeak room for her fellows. It was not long after when all his limbs disclaimed motion, and he life: his estate unfurnished with an Executor, by reason the time which he reserved to determine of one was too short, but the Gloster Man (being his Nephew) disinherited the other, whose hopes were strengthened by a promise the old Man made five years before his death; not by any home alliance, for he was no more than his x thrice remooved. They which followed the Coffin to burial, went wetshod in those affectionate tears, which flowed so abundantly from the young heirs Eyes. I never think on it, or on Doting Lovers, but I call Nature an Enemy to Love: who suffers it never to be expressed with apparent demonstration; but when it is expressed, unnecessary or hurtful. I did a month after his decease (whilst his memory was young, lusty, & able to overcome detraction with disproof) publish him to the World in an impartial Character, but 'tis requisite I bar thee the sight of it, because (being lost) I cannot show it: yet if a desire to increase in knowledge, cause thee to think thyself wronged, be recompensed in reading this Dialogue between Death and me.  

NIM.  
Death, what crochet came into thy mind,  
To strike my honest Patron blind  
Ere 'twas with him perpetual Night?  
Come tell me, didst not thou suppose  
His Soul the way to Heaven would lose,  
By being thus deprived of sight?   

DEATH.  
No, Nim, I brought it so to pass,  
Because that he a Coward was  
And had a very little Heart.  
Therefore (to find it) did devise  
A way to pluck forth both his Eyes,  
And stick them fast on this my Dart.   

NIM.  
Death, now thou dost him double wrong,  
For when St Albon's Bells were wrung  
By great devils in the Steeple,  
He Valianrly climbs up the stairs,  
armed only with a Dozen Prayers,  
Which were heard by all the People.   

DEATH.  
Why true, but dost not thou know Man  
The Tongue is Weapon to a Woman,  
And sharper far than two-edged Swords  
Which maketh in all consequence  
His Heart not strong, but his Defence,  
If they speak blows that fight with Words.   

NIM.  
Go, base Detractor, do not strive  
To kill his Fame, keep that alive  
The reason why he prayed there,  
Was that (being dark) the devil  
Might know him from an infidel  
And not for pigeon-livered-fear.   

DEATH.  
This style of base will (thou shalt see)  
Call back my purposed lenity  
And be revenged on Brittany  
When e'er long thy dead Muse must come  
(Wafted on tears) to Elysium,  
Where there is Sack, yet none for thee.   

NIM.  
Ay, my Muse, and Country, care not a Fart,  
For thee, thy envy, or thy fatal Dart:  
Nor think I any there Canary have  
At least my Patron thought it not; for he  
Took his departure hence so heavily  
That eight could hardly lift him to his Grave.   
Thou shalt never so much admire my Courage, as in this my conference with Death; for though he frights other men's souls from their Bodies, yet canst thou pick from these Verses no defect that doth express more than a very little fear; they went rather a timorous pace then smoothly from my Tongue: which I discover to nourish thy Detraction not my glory.   

CHAP. III.  
NIM reports the conditions of his patron's heir; with the reason, and manner of his departure from him.  
A Passionate, Man is a learned Beast; being moved, nor Man nor Beast: for he wants the sense of the one, and in some kind the unsensibility of the other. He takes the quickest cure for his disease of any; for the next way to end his life, is his only physic. I cannot in modesty avouch that my patron's heir did counterfeit his Passion, for to pensist in the disease, is their cure because it is their Death, & no man can counterfeit Death unless he will be buried alive. Besides to root in us a contrary opinion of him, we will only remember how his uncle maintained him Ten years under his own roof, which fatherly Charity (Proclaimed constant likewise by Time, who is best able to judge of constancy) could not but beger a superstitious love, which still labours to requite with prodigal-gratitude, yet is never weary nor spent.  
When he was returned from the funeral, and by the consent of the whole Country had taken possession of all, he gave charge his uncle's Wardrobe should be chested up, and kept as relics; only his Gloves, Points, and Garters he bestowed upon the Overseers, and others whom his choice picked out, best to deserve their worth: conjuring each Man (for the deceased parties sake) never to part from them, whilst they (who before blessed him in his uncle's name, still mentioning the affinity of old acquaintance, in expectation of Rings▪) now curse his thrifty Superstition, divulging abroad how well his liberality hath requited their pains: though I blamed those poor gifts from him, as nothing but an old simplicity of Love that values things according to a self estimation. A strange dejected humour possessed him three Months, his actions were quite void of formality, his domestic affairs by himself neglected, & managed by men more officious than honest. Being advised by his friends to settle his Estate, he made answer he could not live long, therefore would busy his soul only with heavenly meditations. How (quoth I) God forbid your Worship should disparage the success of your new Fortunes with such fond surmises. Nature in you is so lusty, that it almost breaks the Bonds of Continence: full of presuming strength, challenging all sickly operations to a defiance, our youthful blood, hardly to be tamed with those examples which experience doth demonstrate. I confess (replied he) my immediate Heir cannot warrant his hopes either in my years or complexion, but I have a divining spirit which prompts me to superstitious observations, and breeds a confirmation stronger than thy opinion can remove. I answered, when our pensive thoughts do still accompany our hearts, they are (like our voices accompanying our maidenheads) both lost together. His melancholy dull humour could apprehend nothing, but the next morning sent post to London for a Stone-cutter, who being come, was entertained as if he had feasted his content. They allotted the morning to consult of businesses, wherein my advice was equally accepted with the best, although the workman's gain furnished them with fashions of more curious invention, handsome, in being costly; at last it was concluded two hundred pound should be bestowed upon a Marble tomb to cover my Patron: the fashion of it 'tis impossible to relate, for patience would tire herself in the description, being composed of nought but quirks, and various whim-whams.  
Alteration appears never more deformed, than when it appears in Tombs, or Churches, where Antiquity shows most reverend, most sacred and begets ceremony; ceremony, Superstition: but who hath more cause to accept of our blame, than such as will not limit their expense, according to that compudent Thrift, expressed in ancient Monuments, but strive with a zealous prodigality to exceed all the ways, modest Art can invent to consume their Money. The Stone-cutter (like Time) went swiftly away from us, but never came back again: for our heirs mind did change, differing the work till the next Spring. He whose costly experience had too well acquainted him with such inconstant humours, laboured to prevent what he suspected by a sudden dispatch: but the message was delivered, before the stuff that should have been sent to us was packed up: and gladly did the Stone-Cutter take a small satisfaction for what he had begun, as confident it would never be effected. Premeditation in this kind (quoth he) prevents Action. Charitable deeds should be bestowed ere we can have leisure to examine why? Or on whom they are bestowed: Our Natures▪ being prone to censure fair Desert, with fowl Detraction, and esteem that which is not altogether necessary, superfluous: telling us likewise we should not commit Evil that Good may come of it; but Toombs consume the money of the Living, to preserve the Fame of the Dead. Therefore he that will have a house for his Memory to dwell in, must build it himself, lest being unhowsed, it die for cold, and we starve for want of Custom.  
This sudden change in our Heirs mind, did prognosticate a general alteration, though his affairs were constant to the disposure of his Passion three Months: a time long enough to contradict the Proverb which saith, Violent things, are never permanent. He that did eat rather to satisfy those hungry Worms, that will batten by his Death, than Nature that maintains Life: whose Soul was in his Mouth, even ready to depart with the next Sigh, now makes a physician his Steward, feeds by prescription, is more punctual to abstain from Meat, that is out of season, than a sick Epicure: and hopes he shall live till Time, may throw a Dart at Death. After his estate was settled, he took order to discharge the House of poor me: being moved to antipathise from his uncle in so uncharitable a deed by my presuming insolence, that appeared most commonly when I was drunk. Once my Tongue reeled so much, to say I had more interest in the House than he, which was too soon disproved by his thrusting me out of it. On that Morning prefixed for my departure, he brought into my Chamber the Hundred Pounds, left me by his uncle, which being delivered me in a legal manner, he commends to my own vainglorious approbation, my Ingenious Countenance, Comly Person, and natural wit: withal, told me my scholarship expressed both costly breeding, and great Industry; therefore I was strong enough to erect my own Fortunes: with a great deal of good counsel, which I valued, as coming from one whose Experience seemed younger than himself. There were few Tears shed between us at parting; neither did he bestow any thing on me more than what Custom holds necessary to maintain compliment, (a Cup of Beer) or compliment necessary to maintain Friendship: A promise of welcome when I shall call upon him riding that way. Well, horsed I was, and well stored with money, having besides my Portion, the worth of fourscore Pounds in Jewels, which my wicked providence (Advantaged by the Old man's sickness) pocketed up, to withstand all unfortunate assaults. Thus the way enforcing my Steed and I, to take an unmannerly farewell (by making our Arsses his opposite Object) we rod towards London.   

CHAP. IV.  
NIM, riding towards London, is overtaken by a Citizen, who tells him a merry Story; besides, their discourses, together with the fashion of their Host in maidenhead, is in this Chapter most punctually related.  
IT was a fair Morning, the way fairer, which pleased both me, and my Horse. All my Care I cast into that Pocket which contained my: Money, as the naturallest Companion for it. My Thoughts seemed to me heavier than my self, but not to my Horse, because I felt their burden; he mine. My conceit wandered like a Northern-Shepheards Tongue, when (half drowned in a Wessail Bowl) he tells the Story of a Lad that went to seek his Fortunes. Three hours before I came to maidenhead, I was overtaken by a London Citizen, who rode like an Admirer of the skill of horsemanship: or as if he were hearing a Story of one that killed himself by falling from his Saddle; with such a complemental-fear did he embrace the horse's Neck: committing the protection of all his limbs to several supporters, but his legs wholly to his stirrups. Well overtaken, Friend (quoth he); good highway rhetoric! produced to maintain Custom, but chiefly to express himself not bred, though born a Cockney; or not his Child, that being to journey forth in Rainy weather, told his Wife he had a trick to prevent all cloudy inconvenience, by riding under the Pent-howses, even from London to Cambridge. Some men dote so much upon their expression, that, though want of reading bar them a tale pertinent to the Matter, Time, and Place; yet will they piece discourse with an old story: The remembrance of which his grandfather recovered by the Art of Memory; but he assures it (by some handsome oath) to be lately done; laying his Scene afar off, lest he should betray himself, to an eminent disproof. Just such a one encountered with my conversation: who fed my Ears with relating, what I have here set down.  
Two Kentish Gentlemen, Friends, and worthy of fortune's envy, were both their ruins of her Conquest; expressed in their exstream impoverishment: which forced Invention to beget dishonest shifts. So much doth Equivocating Necessity riddle in her Actions; basely preventing base living: amongst the rest, this one arrives to our knowledge.  
A certain rich Creditor of theirs rode into Oxford-shire, about a Purchase he had lately bought: These Gallants (hearing of it) plotted now to enrich themselves by his return; at last agreed, that six of their Companions, should set upon him on the highway; dissembling as if they intended not only to rob him of his Money, but also of his life: Whilst they two (appearing to ride that way by chance) fight stoutly in his defence, and obtain the Victory, by putting the rest to flight; not doubting, but this being carried too close for his discovery, might move him really to consider their counterfeit kindness, in a large requital. He had no Kinsman on whom his love could bestow the keeping of his Purse-strings to a peculiar profit; which strengthened their hopes. Having by a diligent inquiry got to know the time of his return, they all attended him under a Hill; three Miles distant from Town or Village. One of the Six served as Scout, to prevent impediments, both by discovering his coming, and the passing by of others. But the Coast was clear, and the Sun almost set, when they beheled their Creditor, walking down a Hill; singing of psalms, attended on only by won Man, who seemed furnished with two defensive Weapons; an old rusty Sword, and a liberal Hand: not to strike, but to give away his Purse, which was his politic device, to prevent robbing. Well, if he had valour in him, he was afraid to show it: besides it dwelled at least a furlong from his face; for the cowardly form of that could not but encourage an Enemy. The Six presently (upon a watchword) assault them from behind a Hedge. Stand, deliver your Purse? are words of no force here: the Master being old, weak, and unable to support his fear, fell down to compliment with their mercy. The Servant (being lightened by flinging them his Purse) ran away: but they (lest he should have raised a hue-on-cry) brought him back again fast bound. Now pleads the old Man for his life, his prodigal fear offering Emperors ransoms: whilst they seem to abandon all remorse, crying blood, blood! the Villain will reveal us, the Villain will reveal us. He swears by all oaths extant in his memory, he never will. But by this time his two Champions sallied forth, saying, what noise is that? keep the King's peace ho! and calling him by his name, they cheer him up with comfortable words, and counterfeit blows, which were received by the supposed Thieves, with as little hurt as Cowards could wish for. The old Man (Doubtful of the success) considering such an advantage on the adverse party's side; swore those Six Gentlemen, to be his honest Friends, and what they did, was but in jest: thinking if the other two were overcome, this would save his life. But it was their Qu' now to fly, as vanquished by two opposers, which they did with exquisite dissimulation; carrying along with them Fiveteen Pounds. Our two Gallants are yet to receive the Fruit of their labours: The old Man having nought about him now to bestow upon them, but thanks, which they seemed to receive in ample satisfaction; He earnestly inquires after his Man, whom they all smelled out presently, by reason of an immodest expression of Fear: offensive to their Noses, and his own Breeches. It proved something troublesome to unbind him, for every man employed one of his Hands to stop his nostrils withal. At last (with much ado) they all became Horsemen again, and rode a pace towards the next Town: he being very desirous to send hue-on-cry after them for his Money, but by the force of premeditated reasons, he was persuaded to the contrary They had scarce entered their inn, but he relates unto a public Auditory what happened unto him, still interposing between his own danger, the Valour and kindness of those two Gentlemen, his Debtors. But they strengthen their well composed plot with reporting that he most' valiantly behaved himself before they could come to his rescue. flattery (that old siin) agrees best with Age, where Folly is grown out of her own knowledge, and oft mistakes herself for Wisdom: the implication of the word, being lost, when applied to Men of full desert. It is a poor beggarly vice, yet still accompanies the rich. It is a thief that steals away the Heart through the Ear, and for that theft hangs on it like a Jewel ever after. It works the Soul from a compudent giving to a doting prodigality; and hath caught this man too: who though his knowledge blushed in what it knew, and gave the Lie to his own forced belief; yet did he hug a second Youth within him, and talked of what he could do, setting aside great advantage: non Hercules contra duos. The next Morning they rode to his House; where thanks, and welcome did no more appear shaped in words, but in little bags of Money, which were delivered with a courtlike entreaty of acceptance: he striving to prove, there was no disparagement in the receipt of them. Their old Bonds likewise he freely restored saying, Since Fortune (who is blind to all men's deserts) could not see theirs, he was glad this occasion had given eyes to his Duty, that can direct him on whom he may still bestow, yet never impoverish himself. They had what they desired, and therefore pretended business which must needs occasion their departure from him. His humour is still constant to extremity in kindness, and stays them to Dinner, where there was good Cheer and Mirth. But by and by one knocks at the Gate, whose entrance being licenc'd, he asked for the Master of the House; the Servants perceived him to be drunk, therefore denied at first their Master was at home: Well, anon the old Man rises from Dinner to know his business. After a little compliment between them, this drunken Gentleman discovers himself to be one of those Six men that robbed him, and begs his pardon for it, which being granted, he reveals' likewise the whole drift of those two Champions, who are now his Guests. owls (as they were) to trust a secret in a drunkard's Breast, whose love to the taste of Wine, seats his Heart upon his palate, which being so near his Tongue, he cannot choose but speak his Thoughts. He (poor man) was struck with a fretful admiration; yet thought it not a fit time to lower now, being divers of his Friends were there at Dinner with them, who (Unless they could digest his Looks) would stomach his Meat in a displeasing Sense: therefore contrived a way to end all with merriment. Six of his Servants he commanded to rob the two Gentlemen in his Parlour, of what he had bestowed upon them, counterfeiting likewise an intent to kill them: whilst he, and his Shit-breech Man, should come in (as it were by chance) and save their Lives. This was acted to the life, whilst my two Gallants, (being pooped of what they enjoyed merely to feel misery in the loss) departed the House, only furnished with his pardon.  
Such Tales as these banished tedious Time, and pensive consideration, till we arrived at maidenhead, Twenty two Miles distant from London; where was an inn preferred to my acceptance by my cyttizens' commendations, who knew the Servants Names, as well as if he had been their Godfather, though the house never owned his company but one Night: men of his coat desiring much acquaintance, because they will lose by none. The money which I had about me, I convayd under my Bed, and so to supper we went. The house was full of Guests, which made our Host limit his Person, to a quarter of an hovers tarriance with each company. Every Room did but borrow him of one another, which shows (though no man's Particular command had interest in his service, yet (he had least interest in himself. His Wife supplied his absence to all companies, for he could do nothing else but talk to them, and her Tongue was heard everywhere. She it is, whose Beauty clips the Wings of a travellers swift desire, and begets the ease of his plodding Beast, for her house appears his Journeys end; but her Company multiplies the Reckoning above the reach of arithmetic. The citizen had the discourse at Table, which consisted (for the most part) of the antiquity of his Company: he being a woollen Draper. Sometimes he described the humours of a deceased Round-Cap, his quondam Parishioner; which were all absurd, and nothing witty: yet he laughed at them heartily, and I at him. All his own proceedings (in Eight years' prenticeship) he related to me. How long he bore the water-Tankard, scrapped Trenchers, and made clean shoes: discovering a self-admiration, that such mean Offices could bring him to the height which now he lives at. Next he reported how many Servants he keeps; upon what conditions he hath bought the lease of his house: how long his father, and himself have lived in that Parish, and what Offices they have undergonne, with divers other things impertinent to any man's knowledge: not omitting to reveal (in a grave manner) how unworthy he was to be Constable, or churchwarden, would willingly have fined for it, but the Parish (forsooth) did more need his Advice, than Money. After Supper he expressed his liberty (in being from home) with a distracted Mirth, as if he were suddenly to recover so much of his Heart blood, as he hath sighed away, when pennd within the city Walls, It is a certain observation; They are the civilest at home, and rudest being abroad.  
But now my Host and his Wife came both up to stay and talk with us. Surely he was the very maiden head of his Mother, begot, his father being asleep, or but practitioner in that art, as apeard by the workmanship of his face and Body, so ill-favoured and deformed was he: Her shape proclaimed Nature prodigal of her riches, and vainglorious of her cunning, so generally handsome was she; yet seemed to dote upon his feature, 'tis wondrous strange, but Love is blind: which made my Muse (though dulled with a gross Supper) sing thus;  

Let none hereafter dare to blame  
The Gods, for making Cupid blind,  
Lest his offence be plagued with shame,  
And all men's hate, beseige his mind:  
For by this Couple we do plainly prove,  
That without blindness; there could be no love▪   
Short and sweet, quoth my poetical-cittisen, who begged them to show his wife's Brother: a councillor's clerk, but an excellent Poet believe it. Our hostess fell fast asleep, as she sat by the fire side: her Husband waked her with saying, she was always sleeping, or talking. This stirred up a strange frivolous question: Why a Woman is more drowsy, and talkative than a Man? I made answer thus, Because she was made of Adam's flesh when he was asleep; secondly she was made of his Rib, the Rib lies near to the Heart, the Heart is Master of Thoughts, and thoughts beget words. This liked the citizen so well, that he desired to be farther acquainted with me, as afterwards he was; though to his cost; in what kind, thou shalt understand ere long: but now we both went to Bed.   

CHAP. V:  
NIM perseveres in relating what befell him in the inn, rides from thence to London, acquaints you with a Feast, worth the laughing at; treats of the city-cries, and promiseth graver stuff hereafter.  
Morpheus destroy these vigilant carrier's, these unquiet disturbers of rest, that bawling (like demi Cannons) rent the Porches of my ears. Were my eyelids cut off, I could not be wider awake than I am now, though it be just three a Clock: the purblind Night newly turned a Bawd to lechery; the time when Spirits, Ghosts, and Payries visit Toombs and churchyards, whose unsubstantial shapes steals away our motion, scare our Reason from us. Yet durst I go round about the World, unarmed, with beads, or blessed with Crucifix: wear my Soul within my Scabbard, my Life tied to my Heel, as careless of success: with such an angry valour, was I inspired at that time, because deprived of sleep. But by and by, the modest morn blushed in the East: and the sun (to recompense those tears shed by weeping Plants) showed forth his Head: guilding the tops of lofty Trees, placed there by unequal Nature, to intercept that Comfort, which Shrubs lose by their low-humility. The elevated lark leaves his dewy Bed to welcome him, and drops down tired, by striving to climb higher, than his voice. I bad farewell to sleep, and called up the chamberlain, who brought me word the citizen (being very sick) desired my company. To his Chamber I went, found him groaning in the Bed, encompassed with Tokens of his Wives careful Love; three nightcaps, two waistcoats, a large Tiffany to keep his Neck warm, two pair of Italian-Drawers, and a little down-cusheon: which being thrust into his Codpisse, makes his Breech (forsooth) unsensible of a hard Saddle, or a trotting Horse. His sighs kindled pity in the hostess, whose Experience was his physician, and brought him a Posset, cleared with the juice of sundry herbs, which procured him his health suddenly. So our Reckoning being paid we rod a modest pace towards Branford, from thence to London: where (after he had directed me to a handsome Lodging, and the place of his own abode) we parted.  
I had no friends in the city but my Gold, which I esteemed so much, that I made it Bed-fellow to my Thoughts. Yet there was a merchant who hath sworn heretofore he loved me, but how? as. Wise men love Money; for the use of it. Whilst my Patron lived, I could have done him a courtesy; but now the case was altered, and therefore his friendship dead. Neither did the place ever harbour any acquaintance of mine, besides him, but only one Man (a Cambridge scholar) whom envious Death took from me at Tyburn; he was brought to that fatal end by a Cart, though indeed the main occasion was his unfortunate Lust. Let not the Reader, accuse me of tedious digression from our matter, if I relate the manner of it.  
His violent Love seized upon the Beauty of an innkeeper's Daughter, who was thirty years old, and a maid: her chastity being starved for want of natural consideration: and her Fort vanquished, by an unboned Member (the Tongue) for that, that is it, which charms a woman's credulous mind to believe, what she dares not feel, and feel because 'tis more delightful than to believe: let it suffice, the scholar often knew her in the Hebrew phrase. One Night amongst the rest, she (being inflamed with a covetous love, futurly to own his Person, and estate as a Wife) contrived a way how her father, and Mother might (as if by chance) come into the Chamber, and find them in the midst of immodest action, so afterwards enforce him to marry her. She could not carry the plot so close, but he perceaved, her knocking with a bedstaff, was Porter to their entrance. From out the Bed he leaps (Untamed with his amorous combat) fastens on his good Sword, which bravely he advances in defiance. Her divided Spirits being sent abroad, severally to withstand fear, and Shame, she creeps between the Sheets, and winks▪ a true Coward! whose senseless imagination commits the protection of his whole Body to his eyelids, and bulwarks it with closing them, as though he can feel nothing but what he sees. The Mother (running forth to cry for help) is intercepted, by intercepting the door. The father strives with a joint stool to beat him thence, which he by mere strength took from him, but with losing the forepart of his Shirt, the loss of which got under his subjection the old Woman▪ who blushing to behold his manhood, ran (as frighted) behind the Bed, whilst he immodestly (though for modesties sake) turned his Breech towards them, and sought backward. The scufle grew now hot, and loud; therefore he (fearing it might wake the Servants) swore if he once more turned his face, he would kill them all, which made them quieter. His Doublet, and Stockings being nearest his reach; were put on; in two hours space, not sooner; because his right Hand was wholly employed to manage his Sword: lest the father (advantaged by any thing) might recover the door. The Mother came backwards to deliver him his Breeches, and so by chance stumbled over a stool; her husband's eyes looked red as fire, some thought with anger, but sure I think they blushed to behold that, which made him put out the Candle. The dark bred fear in all, but especially in my 〈◊〉 scholar, who hearing the Servants raised by the woman's cry, and not able to find his Breeches, ran down the stairs without them; then climbs over the back Gate into a narrow Lane, where after he had awhile accompanied the Northern wind, a Drunkard (passing that way) reeled sull upon him, and falling fell fast asleep upon the Ground, whilst he deprived him of his Breeches: but by reason of too much fearful haste, and want of light, wore them, as he pulled them off, with the Linings outward. O Wine! good for none but the fiery Zwitzer, who loves to have his face, richer than his Purse: thou that ridlest in operation, and makes this Drunkard happy by depriving him of sense, for though his bare Breech kissed the cold stones, he slept sowndly: whilst our scholar (walking through the neighbour Street) is taken by a Watch. The perilous Constable (spying how unhansom he was dressed) suspected him guilty of some bawdy business, and laughing sufficiently at him, sent him to the Counter. But one sorrow treads upon the Heel of another (so swift are they in pursuit, when once running to us) the way to the Counter is through that Lane where the Drunkard was, who by this time had recovered his senses, and walked shivering up and down, in search of his Breeches. The watchmen spying his white Shirt) stood still, supposing him to be a Ghost. The scholar perceived his theft would be discovered; yet was loath to run away, because loath to be taken by another Watch▪ he liked this so ill. One of his Guardians (being fortified with an old charm) marches crosslegged, spitting three times East-South-West: and afterwards prefers his valour to a Catechising office. In the name of God (quoth he) what art thou? whence dost thou come? what makest thou here? he answered, he was not himself half an Hour ago, but now he is a Man as others are; of God's making; only some Villain had stolen away his Breeches. My acquaintance was found to be that Villain; his Buttock's once more disrobed, his secret parts too apparently discovered: And in that manner both were carried to the Counter.  
But now let us return to what occasioned the relation of this jest. After he was delivered thence, upon promise to marry his Whore, he met her Father riding towards Windsor: and being inflamed with the remembrance of this disgrace, killed him upon the highway, for which fact, Tyburn deprived me of him.  
Thus destitute of any Friend, to whom I might commit the keeping of my Money, I bought me a strong Trunk, and therein enclosed it. My Lodging was in Chancery-Lane, my landlord, an old attorney, who by frequent walking to and fro, about law-business, knew the form of every Stone, which paved the Ground, between that place, and westminster-Hall. I observed nothing that Day worth relation, unless it were the City-Cries: I mean, how every one hath got a differing pronunciation, from intelligible English. Either they have worn out the parts, wherein those Syllables are particularly moulded, by a continual usage (considering they speak in any other kind plain enough) or else many of their words, (progressing through their Noses) are drowned in that flood which cold purges from the Brain. I asked an Oyster-Wench once, what it was she cried? She bade me look into her Basket. Why (quoth I) can I sinned your words there? Yes, she answered, really shaped too: Did not our Ware speak for themselves, little would be gotten by them; for we cannot foil them off with trim Language, which my Ears witnessing, I must needs believe. But leave we these jests, these superficial expressions of a full Brain. A comic-fancy wrinst in sparkling Claret, orwrapt in the Leaves of April Violets, could not wander in alacrative sense, more than I do now. I tell thee Render, I will be grave, I vow I will: and shortly write things worthy thy serious observation. In the mean time let me commend to thy reading, this Dream; born the first Night I lay in London.   

CHAP. VI.  
NIM most wittily reveals his admirable Dream, turns satirist, and omits not the relation of those reason which ininduced him to it.  

The Description of a Grove  
MY sleepy imagination carried me into a melancholy Grove, whose courteous Trees by embracing one another, imprisoned the Western Wind▪ whilst the sweetness of the place made it in love with bondages for passing through those Boughs, adorned with close whispering Leaves, it sighed at liberty. The Birds (caged in Thickets) sung sadly. The mournsul Grass always wept for the absence of the Sun, and with a morallizing Countenance, seemed to exclaim against those tall-Trees; which like great ones in a commonwealth, deprive the less of comfort by combining in their mischief. In this Grove I met an aged Pilgrim, whose body being tired with Holy jaunts, his wandering-zeal tamed with a superstitious lameness; lived there, impounded in a narrow Circuit. His looks were as serious as his talk; his Beard knew little of the barber's skill, but grew like his Experience, me thought longer than his Age▪ he brought me to a Cave, whose sweet Mouth watered at a Crystal Spring, which ran close by it: and called to us from thence, one whose Tongue spoke him a Scholar▪ His Garments seemed only fashionable, in being quite out of Fashion. His arms, and Thighs were folded in the leaves of old Manuscripts: a perilous necessary (though cold humour in him) to dissuade nakedness from being sensible of the Northern Wind. After many denotations of a troubled Spirit, he charmed attention with this Speech.   

The scholars Speech.  
Farewell Philosophy; and that prying knowledge, which, discovering nature's secrets, makes a modest apprehension blush, wraps wonder itself in a strong amazement, and soothes the atheist in his damned belief; who terms the soul's Immortality a Childish superstition, and forged by politic statesmen, to suppress Vice in the commonwealth, which otherways would ruin Government. Farewell Astronomy; an Art that best becomes the labour of a schoolboys weak Capacity: for every Fool can find his fatal-Star without a Perspective, and feel it, though fixed a Thousand Leagues above his reach. Or what is he that only looking on a Comet, cannot prophesy a ruin? since his own Guilt doth prompt him. Farewell physic; thou that circumventest Death, and with comfortable herbs preventst Autumn in Man, by a perpetual Spring. farewell that thriving Spirit; which with the heigh it of Knowledge makes Experience seem an ass; deep Policy, shallow Surmises: farewell rhetoric; and that smooth phrase which makes the Courtier appear a disguised Saint, which screws up Fancy to a belief repugnant unto Sense, and works the silly, Auditor to delight in his own undoing. Farewell Poetry; thou trim Composer of disjuncted Sense; thou that with handsome Ornament dost clothe a Lie in a true shape: Thou that ravishest the mechanics mind, to his delight, not torture; for though a dull apprehension bar at first thy pleasing entrance, yet he loves thee for it ever after. Farewell that sweet inspired rhapsody which cues fluent expression into perfect sense: which in descriptions really describes, corrects Nature, and makes it seem more natural. O farewell for thy laurel only flourisheth on the dry Heads of those, who can but lamely imitate, and withers on moist diviner brows. Farewell in general the scholars trade, since what to others is a comfort, is to him a orment; for he is tired with Hope, and tamed by Ignorance: Ignorance! She that is only fortunate in ambition, yet fixed on high, esteemed less in the eyes of those, that with admiration gaze below.  
Here the Pilgrim (being loath to let his sick, overworn patience, serve as bridle to his Tongue) commands a silence, which he obeyed by straight returning into the Cave. O how he weighed each word to the very poise of Accenting. Cicero either whip thy Tongue, or hereafter let thy Ghost be deaf to thy disparagement. Had my Ears been long enough to have reached him in the Cave, I had killed the Proverb in contradiction, graced what an ass wears to the contempt of all, and made his name worthy any man's acceptance.  
The soldier's Speech after this his description.  
Soon after him bussels forth the ruins of a lusty Man: one that strove to tire Misfortune with a counterfeit contempt of it, little blessed with outward Habiliments; for his ambitious stockings did dislocate his Doublet, and served instead of Sleeves: whilst the Elbows made Casements of necessity and peeped out. Scarce had he any one Limb sufficiently clothed to keep warm the Spectators eyes. His Skin was pinked quite over with thrusts, fearfully stolen by the rapier's point of some opposing Coward. His Face (carved by the pattern of his mind) was rough, and seemed secondly begot by the careful gain of a bungling Surgeon. The carriage of his Body expressed him a traveller, as if he had got the theoric of all Country postures, and lost the practic of his own. He spoke as if his Tongue (lately come from far) had brought good utterance home, for these were his words.   

His Speech.  
Farewell lustly-war! thou that with bloody Justice, dost bravely arbitrate, 'tween Prince's rights, and soldiers valours: farewell unbullwarked Resolution! thou careless spark, whose father was a Roman: thou that exalts each Nerve to an ambitious height, lifting the Body up to overreach Danger: farewell that bewitching Winter which the sprightful Drum, l through our ears into our flesh, when our blood's freeze, and our Gorges heave at Peace, when we esteem Life below esteem, when the long Pike (that bars closing with the Enemy) seems an impediment to true valour, and the Sword, within the Scabbard, looks like Glory hid. farewell the loud Trumpet with whose voice, rewording echoes scold, whose cheerful harmony makes the wanton Heart dance in a Breast besieged with Swords: farewell the shrill fife, which drowns in the Cowards' ear Terror, composed of dying groans, and hideous shrieks: farewell the glorious troop of comely Horse! in whom Pride (as fitting none but Beasts) sits handsomer than in the rider's looks farewell the bawling Cannon (Death's bloody Executioner) from whose wide mouth Destruction (roundly shaped) wraps itself in a Case of disturbed air, dismembers lofty Steeples, pats away aspiring Pinnacles, and steals at once a whole rank of Mortals: farewell learned Strategems! deep Circumvention! wholesome policy! and sound composing of dangerous-Inductions: farewell Death! thou that beget'st the soldier's life; who only breathes in honour: farewell life! thou that beget'st the soldier's Death: who now lives smothered in disgrace.  
After he had thus talked awhile (bodying each word with active emphasis) he returned also into the Cave, being indeed interrupted by the hasty presence of one, whose grief burst from forth his eyes, because so long barred of passage through his mouth. He was of person well shaped, and proper▪ resembling the decayed remnant of a noble Stock. His Countenance (somewhat withered with infectious grief) caused him to look like the very contempt of happiness: as if he outlived his own desire, was made an experiment by his cruel Pate, to try within a hairs breadth the sufferance of a Man: or had been wracked to confess the strength of Misery, and now warranted by Experience, what before he did deny in happy Ignorance. He wore his apparel (as he wore his Life) quite out of Fashion, and took his farewell thus.   

The speech, of a decayed Gentleman.  
Farewell all those nice points of Honour, which in the observing makes Reputation but a Trouble: farewell that haereditary respect, borrowed from the merits of our ancestors: by which we enrich their fame, and impoverish our own: farewell Gratitude, thou core of a noble Heart, that by requital makes thyself a Beggar: that sknorst to poise thy thanks with the success of a free gift, but with the kind-disposition of the Giver: farewell Temperance! thou physical preserver of natural blessings, thou strengthener of those instinctive-faculties, which belong to each particular Sense: thou that canst best (with palpable demonstrations) distinguish Men from Beasts: farewell hospitality: thou thrifty prodigal, and ancientest herald to proclaim us Gentlemen: farewell that handsome, decent courtesy, which makes the Vulgar proud of having Lives, for our commands to tread upon: farewell Decorum; and that sweet premeditating judgement, which crownes Action with a blessed conclusion: farewell Friendship! thou covetous engrosser of all Earthly Comforts! thou that (with honest equivocation) includ'st two Men in one, tying together their very heart strings in a true love knot: tempering their minds, as if they had moulded one another, in their wishes. Their winged industry (begot by mutnall exchange of care) makes the conclusion of a weighty business, come to prevent expectancy: is never tired, but staked in officious motion, and constant to variety of comforts, O! Farewell, Farewell Patience: that rose-lipped cherubin, who heretofore was beauteous, as the Infant morn in the East, when Sol doth paint her; but now she is ugly, old, and Hag-like withered, for unnatural wrongs have so infected her.   

The description of a forsaken Virgin.  
Here concluding with a sigh, he returns also from whence he came, leaving his room supplied by a creature purposely made to please curiosity in a detracting lovers eye. I tell thee Reader she was the pretiest little thief, that ever wanton Imagination hugged to defile; so far above description, that if I durst attempt it, I should leave (Unreached) just so much Argument, as might serve Marot's Muse to compose a fit Mistress, for his Husband. grief in her seemed a handsome Pession; nothing did ill become her but her Fortune,▪ I cannot say the Garments which she wore were course and base, because her beauty needed no baseness to foil it off: neither is it possible Fate could be so hard-hearted, as to apparel her in want: No? that were a thought most lame in reason: for though her gown was made of homespun stuff, I am sure she wore Golden hair & wept pearls: how! did she weep? I must not say so, lest thou weep to think on it, but never so handsomely as she did. If the grey Hypocrite (whose years speaks him old, and exact in a disguised behaviour) had but looked on her, he would have sworn the Politician studies only to undermine himself: for naked-Innocence grew on her face in such a pleasing shape, that Sinners (who before were married to their Guilt) plead repentance, and proffer love to it. She never knew Man, with a knowledge more dishonest than what harbours in her eyes, only by sight: yet some Arch-Rogue, some damned Lover, (Choked with too much happiness) hath done her wrong: whose errand now she will deliver to the World, I marry will she, and that sowndly too. Sorrow' ere while sat on her Tongue, like bad expression, and her Words were quartered in the utterance: but now she'll brook no more, her Tipett is unpined stands up (like a Beacon) to foretell a war of words, she must scold, which she did thus; but other ways then thus she could not scold.   

Her Speech.  
Farewell the virgin's peace, true Content; and all those ravishing effects which harmless thoughts beget: when our dull Spirits are tickled with a frozen Joy: when the flash of Lightning cannot singe our Souls: nor the noise of Thunder fix us to a fearful-admiration, ay me farewell. And farewell Love! thou unnatural thief, that requitest obsequious passion, with stealing the motives of those comforts: O hateful Love! improper word, that dost imply a double sense, the good to shadow over the bad: thou that toylst only to be weary, and consum'st more content, than eminent hopes can give satisfaction for. Farewell Faith in men! who never had any strong enough, to keep unbroken their weak words: subtle, wicked Men, who disguising falsehood in big Oaths, soothe our fond credulity, to a pitiful consent. Such a one robbed me of my Heart, and returned it to make my Guilt exceed his: for no offence deserves punishment so much, as to receive, or live by, what was stolen. His name bears such a sympathy with Sorrow, that falling from my Lips, my tears would drown it▪ farewell my well tuned voice! which made my Tongue a Pillory; for more ears were nailed to it, than offences could condemn: which Made the nightingale blush when we have sung together; for Men would tell her! she had lost her maidenhead: farewell my Lute, whose strings are now as dumb as Silence, and shall never more be pegd to rob the Auditor of wonder: farewell all happiness, for the Time now, is married to my Fortune, and begets more woes, than my poor estate of Patience is able to maintain.  
Her last word lost half its accent, she being interrupted by a little Dove, who with an accustomed tripping familiarity, alured her harmless Fancy to go aside, and sport with it: So light in alteration is leaden Sorrow, when dwelling in a Heart not guilty of its Birth. Though the Pilgrims hot desires were mortified by Age; and his courageous Blood tamed by a reserved diet; yet he seemed to bemoan her with an amorous pity: was about particularly to acquaint me with the rank, and conditions of all his Captives, likewise how they came thither: But I waking, deprived him of further labour, myself of trouble.  
This Dream needed no help from Egypt to expound it, for the Time (With real examples) served as Interpreter. My Brains and Heart met in consultation a whole Week before they could advise me what course of life to take: at last I resolved to turn satirist: being induced to that holy calling by these four reasons. The first was, a Divine inspiration, which my Young turbulent zeal extracted from the Dream. Secondly, because the State at that time felt alteration; and divers great ones (Placed before as high as Fortune herself could reach) sat then on her footstool, humbled below vulgar respect. Thirdly, I being yet to choose acquaintance, strove rather to have my wit prefer me to the better sort at first, than that necessity should furnish me with such, whom afterwards I would scorn to acknowledge; the World always censuring a Man by the fashion and demeanour of his Companions. Fourthly, my Purse was then sufficiently stored with Money: an Argument that might easily persuade the World, I wrote to defend virtue, not my own Poverty: As for those qualities which compose a perfect satirist, I had enough to proclaim Nature Prodigal, and Art is soon attained by industry. I traveled far in History, and knew the World by report, as well as if my pains had been a Tutor to my Knowledge. How I proceeded afterwards, thou Mayst partly understand by reading the next Chapter.    

CHAP. VII:  
NIM being drunk, goes to hire a Servant in Paul's, and after a sober description of the Church, and Walker's, recounts how strangely he was supplied with one.  
COnsideration had so much dulled my Spirits, and blacked my Blood, that I resolved one Morning to drown it in a Cup of Sack. To the Tavern I went, but being incredulous of those commendations which the Drawer sold with his Wine, and covetous to arbitrate judiciously; I tasted it with my Brains: For though it be more natural, the palate should give judgement in this kind▪ yet their verdict is preferred in Capital controversies, and therefore set so light by this when I say light, you may take it in a contrary sense, as if my legs were unable to support my weight; Unable to support my weight? Very well Goodman Nim! Goodman Fop! Goodman dogs-nose! now my sneaking modesty creeps from the matter, and minces it with ambiguous phrase? Is it not time to leave this? ha? well, howsoever Reader do thou suppose I was drunk, stark drunk but not with Wine? rather with liquour distilled from a woman's Brains, and mingled with juice, squeezed from a melancholy Heart; for so variable, and unproportioned were my humours. To beat the Drawer, cut off the Heels from my shoe's, were only Peccadilloes (as the Italian says) Pigmy-faults: but I forsooth (distasting the House attendance) must in all post hast go hire a Servant; a Fellow of some Soul! whose service must not merely consist in the strength of his limbs, but in the apprehensive quality of his Brains. Where to get such a one suddenly, I could not tell, unless in Paul's? which Church easily to pass over is impossible, 'tis so high: therefore something we will say of it. Only let us refrain to express with a pitiful-description the ruins of Time, because for the most part they are placed above our reach: even on the top of the Steeple. St. Gregory's being compared to it, looks like a Church, whose charge of building was at the benevolence of a poor Usurer; or dedicated to some undeserving Saint, who meant to show his humility in the acceptance. The use of those Walks within, I do more pity, then admire their spacious state: For wouldst thou know where the young Wards undoing is contrived? go thither, thou shalt perceive his Guardian newly entered, puffing with haste, and sweating by an unaccustomd labour he hath taken, to be there half an hour before his politic Companions: a space sized out to advantage his old judgement, to prevent with premeditation all countermines: His Conscience presenting to his guilty fear a punishment, before the Sin be quite committed. Wouldst thou know where the Usurer, and his Scrivener consult to cheat the young Heir of mortgaged Land? Why there too: and are as easily distinguished from other Men by their walking, as from one another by their Garments. The Usurer (hating the charge of a fashionable Hat, or all Uostly care to preserve his withered Beauty) wears his high-crowned, according to the old ambitious form: with narrow Brims, lest it might bar his covetous Face, the reflection of the sun's golden Beams. His long cloak, Bumbas-Doublet, and Trunk Hose are threadbare: only observe his left Thumb, Gloves, and Posey ever sticking in his Girdle: which is a Custom graver than his Beard. He moves in bawdy pace, much like a diseased French Man up a Hill: his weak legs being unable to support his old Carcase: How! can a Usurer live till he be old? Yes, because his Soul is not worthy the devil's acceptance. The scriuner is more formal in his Apparel: his whole credit (indeed) depending on a comely outside. Near them, behold two leane-Gallants composing of a cheat, One with his nails dig s fresh inductions from his busy Head: the other (twirling his bandstrings) finds there a way to tie all up with a strong conclusion. Not far off likewise walks another, whose continual diversity of Garments, proclaims him descended from the man-in-the-moon, that changes outside every Month. He wears a long Scabbard with a Hilt in it, but never a Blade, for that was broke in striving for the Wall, and the Money which should buy an other, spent to reconcile himself to his Adversary: for they fell out of purpose to drink together, not like Dutch Men, who drink to fall out. Another in an melancholy trance, marches with his eyes fastened to the Ground: whilst his imagination wanders, like my Pen from the matter to which I must now return.  
Just when I was reading Papers pasted on the South Gate, a lusty young fellow (who perceaved that I was drunk) pulls me by the cloak, desiring some private conference with me: my knowledge never saw his face before, nor could his business come within the reach of my suppose. Well, I walked with him some half a score turns. Time and discourse he spent in inquiring where I was bred? what Gentlemen of note I knew in Glostershire? I told him of divers, whose names seemed better acquainted with his ears, than their Persons with his eyes: withal asked what urged in him this earnest examination? faith Sir (quoth he) no harm, but I desire you to give me a crown for a private reason to myself. No thanks heartily quoth I: your private reason appears to me a public cause (want) which though poorly worn by others, seems in you a fantastical Cloak, to hide, what you cannot show. This could not suffice him; the Rogue purssed his brows in a scornful form, laughed (as it were) at my foolish thrift: and with active words, subtly composed, persuaded me, it was a thing wonderful necessary, or consequent in hidden sense, his desires should be accomplished. Come, come (quoth he) give it me, pish-give it me I say: why thou fool! thou Enemy to thy own good fortunes! fling it quickly, or I'll not stay to receive it. My drunken brains could not apprehend this new impudence: the money I strait ways threw him; he as nimbly conveyed it into his Pocket: and marching forward hurls his Head over his left Shoulder, gives me this reward. Be rich, be happy, I say be happy; for thou wert borne (young Man) in a happy hour-farewell. These words strengthened those surmises in me, whom wine had made weak. My suppositions concerning his quality were divers, and killed one another in contradiction: but at last memory seized on that Philosopher's opinion, who held, every man's Good Genius offers his service to him, once before he be Thirty years old: yet is generally refused by that fear, which spiritual Shapes beget, when our understanding is scared from us. Now my imagination undervalueed desert so much as to think this my Good Genius in the shape of a Beggar. I had three reasons which wrought me to this conjecture, and may likewise induce thee to believe it an accidental truth. First I was drunk, a strong one, exstracted from my irrationable-weakness: for we are aptest to credit impossible things, when the soul consideration is drowned: which should dialogue with the Heart, before we conclude to approve of any thing. Secondly the rawness of my Youth: which doth most palpably excuse my imbecility in distinguishing Truth from falsehood, when you call to mind how he disguised both, in a subtle unknown shape. Thirdly my beautiful Face wrapped me in such a vainglorious estimation of my Merits; that I thought Fortune could not be too kind, nor I covetous: for Beauty in a Man begets only a self-dotage, his imagination being his flattering glass: where he beholds what he can never find (that is) something to attract amorous-amazement from the Spectators eyes: but indeed 'tis no beauty, in being beauty, 'tis— I wot not what: a superfluous ornament which wanton maids do envy more than love: which wise Women scorn as a thing more inconstant than their humours, and less becoming. But now to our purpose.  
I was devising with a fearful doubt, and hopeful amazement what to say: at last asked, whether Heaven had sent him thus disguised, to proffer me his service? the rascal (as I understood afterwards) was newly discarded by his Master, and glad of any man's entertainment: therefore told me (if I pleased) he would serve me with all his Heart, little suspecting what I meant; but supposed so much of my Language, which appeared improper in his apprehension, to proceed from superfluous draughts. Well homewards I reeled, ravished with possessing a certain kind of I knew not what: but still glanced back mine eye, expecting when my Good-Genius would transform into a celestial shape: though he (a plague on him) was constant in the form of a Roguish face, and changed only in behaviour: for enough I had of such observance as belongs to a new Master. The wind had entered my Pate, as soon as I my Lodging: so that I was fain to go to Bed, where I fell presently fast asleep. He boldly called for a pair of clean Sheets, and Trukled under me: never attempting to pick my Pockets: though wickedness was advantaged with an occasion so provocative. About Midnight I waked and hearing one snort at my Beds feet, was strucken silent with a fearful admiration. My Thoughts examined my Heart concerning the last Days actions: my Heart summoned the assistance of my Memory: so that I recovered by piecemeal the knowledge of what befell me in Paul's: how my Good Genius brought me to my Lodging: who must (by all present consequents) be he that now disturbs my Ears: which when perused with sober cogitation, seemed both strange, and ridiculous. I consumed three hours in tedious suspense, until (stepping from between the Sheets) the sun beams usherd my person within his reach: where I beheld an ill-favoured face, adorned by a fashionable Beard. My Hand (troubled with the cowards-palsy) I thrust towards him, to try whether I could feel what I saw; in fine, found him a substantial Spirit, a human-Genius: so returned to consider of it on my Pillow. At Six a Clock he rose, and after some obsequious diligence in the way of service, delivered to my inquisitive mind what thou hast read: whilst I finding him endued with a notable shifting wit, stood to a drunken bargain: his name was Oliver Bunge.   

CHAP. VIII.  
NIM acquaints you with his first proceedings, in his satirical calling; and inveighs against three Men, who publicly profess themselves to be of the same vocation.  
NOthing can be so acceptable to a judicious Capacity, as natural expression; that is, to body out of matter with imaginary substance, to write (as it were) by inspiration, to make real what Art but counterfeits, and with forced rhapsody labours only to discover her imperfections. I strove to be, (what others could but seem) a perfect satirist. course Cynical diet soured my disposition, bittered all my thoughts, by eating passage for my Gaul, to overflow my Heart: and Custom settled my mind in affection of that, which before seemed unnatural to it. A satirist hates only what he envies: 'twas formal in me to hate, and consequent in sense to envy: but whom to envy (Unless those great ones which I did fear to hate satirically) I knew not: therefore went by degrees to learn, what I was soon able to teach. Public Walks, and Theaters I often haunted: for there fantasy might feed to surseit: but on what? on Envy; which made me leaner than a Spanish Chandler. Gaudy rich apparel clothed my young Thoughts, and after two months' space, I could curse Fortune as handsomely as a beggarly soldier in his drink: survey my worth (in comparison of some rich Gallants) with vainglorious partiality, gnaw my nether Lip at him, pity my own poor Fate with an angry Passion: sometimes tire Melancholy with impossible suppositions; and in a serious Trance, study how to dispose of those revenues which belong to my imaginary Empire: wherein I am more liberal than drunken Prodigality: hurling (as it were) a Million, together with a courteous Nod, to him I ne'er conversed withal but once; or else erect new Castles in the Air, and strengthen their foundation with half an Hours perdurance longer than the former (that is) to give them life just till Dinner time: but than Hunger brought me to our Parlour-Table; where, when I beheld nothing but solid Beef, and tough Brawn (Mere antipathies to those various services which would be equivalent with the state of an Emperor) I could not but (humbling myself) remember there was no such matter: and so fall into a second melancholy, though less pleasing than the other.  
Those whom I first railed at, were Men of my own calling (satirists) a new device, therefore likely to be approved of in this new World: wherein old ways are scorned; because accustomary: though in the golden time, Custom enjoyed more able strength than Law, was upheld by Superstition, and might commend itself without vainglory. The chief motive that invited me to write against them, was their ignorant disgracing of our profession. Three flourished with vulgar approbation in my time: each of them publishing divers Satyrs: including stuff, not worthy to be worn by our memory, unless in derision. The first (who claims precendency by previvation) strove to excuse his absurd writing, by publishing a worse fault (he was no scholar): O impertinent discovery of what did most palpably discover itself! what riddling physic didst thou minister to thy fame's health? for though the confession of thy deficiency, lessen thy first defect in Catholic absolution; yet thou hast joined a greater to it. Who but an empiric would diminish in his Patient the torment of one Grief, by aggravating the soul's languishment with a second disease? O thou Fool! thou Dunce! I fret as zealous of my calling, but never pity thee, unless when I consider that pity yields no remedy.  
The second foiled off course phrase, and rugged rhyme, with a saucy impudence: his ambitious Pen (made surely of an eagle's Quill) soared to reach the actions of great states-men-cynical behaviour, and practising the rough, unfashionable rudiments of a soldier's life, made him appear in our Plebeions apprehension (whose dull guessing judgements can only censure by the outside) the thing which he had not wit enough to be. A Cur that barked like a Cur: unsensible, what motived his unsensible Language: not able to express his weak faculties, but in that high satirical strain, which did misbecome it most: for he would be dumb two years, until the untimely fall of some new born Family raised up his voice to kill quite their dying Fame. Cowardly Executioner! that durst but destroy those whose offences do condemn, and the State disarm to suffer. But leave we thee too.  
The Third is less witty, but more ambitious in preferring his factious Spirit, to the eminent observation of our dirty rabble: and by their encouragement, rears up his leaden Muse to reach, what else dull weight might keep below a proper Patronage. His Childish Poems, and mongrel Satyrs are his own Chronicle, and too much commend him; which as it is the cheapest Flattery, so 'tis the worst. Many think he laboured by it, to prevent the Readers labour: but I think it an unnecessary care. Sometimes Fortune lends his dull apprehension eyes, to see his imperfections: occasioning her blindness as her punishment; and him a bad chance to succeed the pretence of a good omen, by beholding that defective which he cannot mend; no not excuse, unless in proclaiming to the World his Youth: an old trick, yet in fashion still with him. If thou hast read his satire; which though proudly dedicated, is so poor in matter, so basely obsequious for a resolute offence; thou might'st perceive how his strong weakness insults over a self-conquest; how he asks too much pardon for that fault, which he doth not confess himself guilty of, or else dares not. Sometimes he doth promiscuously admire in himself a supernatural gift: saying, 'Tis wondered how my youth so much corruption can disclose. O presuming confidence, and confident vainglory! as if aught (worth admiration) could proceed from disclosing that, which is not hid from vulgar knowledge? besides a squintEied Man may sooner discern blindness in another, then cure his own imperfections: yet this young inspired satirist (who is only skilful in the knowledge of what infects knowledge) doth catch the approbation of divers Gallants: but what are they? soldiers of the Time, big thighed Puffs, stronger in words then action, in Limbs then Judgement, in whom admiration is commendation, and Ignorance Father to the first: who apprehend merely the author's labour, on a Subject which might express wit▪ but cannot distinguish any.   

CHAP. ix..  
NIM doth in particular exclaim against all those satirists who hide themselves, yet publish their writings: shows Reasons for so doing: with a trick that he hath bobs privately; delivers a brief superficial Character of the Hollanders, and relates in what manner he spent part of his time in London, when attended on, by his man Bunge.  
NOw though these Three did in public present themselves to our discovery; yet know we can disclose those Men too, that murmur in obscure Corners: who are fearful even of speaking softly; therefore proclaim to others a dumb silence in their own prattle: who whisper with their Pens, and darkly bring their thoughts to light in hieroglyphical words, personating Men in the natures of Beasts, whose names (literally or allegorically) doth sympathize with theirs, whom they aim at. Some of them I hated, because their Works (not so commonly extant as mine) took from the worth of mine; yet added not to their Fame: by reason they were loath to acknowledge those Bastards which their Muse begot. Othersome I could not hate, but pity: because they hated themselves with sufficient demonstration in publishing their own folly: apply my meaning when thy labour is ill requited; by reading those Verses which so bitterly inveghed against our King, his royal Pastimes, and most judicious disposure of his favour: but if a modest reverence (due to that sacred majesty) mussel thy eyes from beholding such unnatural blasphemy; yet strive to encourage thy revenge, by reading those foppish ragged Lines; which some Iron-witted schoolboy, some leaden-souled-puppy barked against him, whose complete worth, and full desert, preferred him to be his Favourite, that is still constant in his politic choice. Or if thou wilt not tempt thy patience to such a dangerous experiment, peruse the sense of that hypocritical satire, which by way of prayer for the preservation of his sovereign's five senses, most falslyaccusd every one, of a preposterous defect. Or if thy duty also be in love; and that love, blind to all such Fame-murdering libels: vouchsafe then to read the humble Petition of that ingenious Gentleman! that perilous wit! who to exceed in a new device; delivered it Queen Elizabeth's Toomb, and answered it himself: a necessary satisfaction, an unnecessary request; for he that talks to the dumb, must reply to his own speech: besides 'twas more probable that the Stones would laugh, then speak: for though Elizabeth's being there should infuse a contrary passion, yet his jest must needs make a Stone laugh; according to the Italian Proverb.  
Well, henceforth be all your Lips sowed up, bury your words (Composed of such unwholesome Breath) in your own hollow Breasts, lest they infect others. Let your Pens no more betray your thoughts: Nor do you by mimic looks, ambiguous action with the Head, or politic gesture of the Body, seem neutrally inclined in your opinion concerning dangerous demands: for this hypocrisy makes a Man a Stranger to his own designs, like Time; ruins where it seizeth: and is only good in that it rewards the user with destruction. Besides if your own particular weal cannot persuade you to silence, yet let charity cause you to remember, the general good of our Profession: and how you have lessened that estimation which the World held us in, by a Cowardly preservation of your own safeties; by a fear to discover yourselves Authors of what privately you publish: but 'tis known, a satirist should usher Action with more boldness, than Resolation can beget, when danger murders fear. Impudence in a shrived-bawd doth not so confidently trust to the help of equivocation, as he to the valour of a factious Spirit. Holyzeale, and a care of his Country, are those pretences wherewith he should gull his own Conscience, and strengthen his pure fame throughout the world: but your faint Courage argues Guilt, which you seem privately to confess, as fearful of a public punishment: whilst we that are valiant, oppose ourselves to suffer, what you craftily avoid. Therefore I conjure you once more (by the pain of my correction) to be dumb hereafter; take heed: but especially mutter not against him, whose fame is bullwarked with my soul, whose defence is my reputation▪ which I strive to preserve (Unmaimed) more for the love I owe his safety, than my own Glory. Besides your Envy, which when fastened on others, she was pale and lean, will then anatomize itself, and appear more deformed, than your base dishonesty. But stay my dear Muse do not in pursuit of an Enemy, run thyself quite out of breath: or with the celestial heat of true affection sacrifice at once thyself to a friend's acceptance. There is one more yet, eminent in thy Master's hate, whom I discover for thy Conquest. Courage my Darling for thou must fly to Holland, where he lives that dulls our profit, with sending hither little Pamphlets: which are new-years-guifts, for all those turbulent Heads, who pry into the old years' actions in hope of alteration. The Books are little worth; unless valueed by the Stationer, who makes the people's fond estimation his gain: and in that doth us a courtesy, for though coming from far, make them more pleasing to ignorant fancy, yet it makes them displeasing to the Purse: which being a thing nearer their love, and tieed with their very heartstrings, cannot but prefer our cheap books to the third degree of Comparison. Some account them learned, but 'tis in accusation not in commendation: for scholars (who have not long practised the practic part of what they study) are naturally inclined to a prodigal utterance of such deep knowledge, as unprofitable Memory doth intrude into the company of Matter, which would express more Skill, with less Art. It is a learned imperfection like▪ I wot not what to call it: but they do stifle their meaning, by striving with a multitude of Sentences to give it life: & thinking they can never make use of all which they have read; express their scholarship with as much impertinency, as want of Ignorance with palpability. Besides though his saucy treatises of our State, and Government are approved of by those, that are fain to make Report a Tutor to their knowledge, that are merely statesmen by reading his books. Yet others who get Experience in their high Offices, and ability to distinguish by their sound learning, find him unable to frame an Idea, of what he strives really to compose much less correct that, which Ignorance makes him dislike.  
But return we now from Holland, lest the gross dull air infect our brains, the boors our manners: so that we forget all the formal compliment belonging to a new Book. They are a Nation that swim in their own profitable sweat: that have found out what sweet success depends on sudden-Industry, therefore tire themselves with▪ covetous▪ Labour, securely to take rest. Their fashions are most uncivil, for did not a legal punishment curb their natural disposition, they would demonstrate more atheistical behaviour, then religious fear. They never fight but under the Banner of Bacchus, who having safely shrouded their Imagination in a Mote of English Beer, they can be desperate not valiant. To call them traitors were with blunt phrase to conclude rashly, what others with equivocating Arguments have tediously disputed on, but never absolutely agreed in arbitration▪ or rather poorly to require that saucy Language, which they utter against his sacred Person, whom with love, and duty I equally adore. Their Government is a composed-confusion of new Policy. Some think it an oligarchy, some a democracy, some between both. But sure I am the people's Hearts rebel to attain the first: though the ambition of rich Merchants labours for the second, and compels them to live between both. I only grieve that our Gentlemen, Younger Brothers (who by coming a year lag of some nimble Fop into the World, come to soon to inherit Sorrow) should lie Perdu in safeguard of such Pedants, for three Shillings a week: O penurious necessity! and necessary Thrift! Who can maintain a Soul with so poor a stipend, for the love too of such ingrateful Monsters, that piece up their pay with public contempt, and private fcoffs. I vow by the Spirit of a Nim, I had rather cease to exsist. But I must come now to that, from which I have wandered.  
Full seven Months did I labour by invective Songs to dissect from the Body of my calling, unprofitable Members: such who were merely shapes of uneffectual use, thereby thinking to enter into a public controversy, with some one eminent in vulgar estimation, and too weak in faculties to withstand my opposition: which had been a choice way to have made myself famous in the World, and particular in all men's notice▪ for he that discommends others, seems to commend himself by a dumb-comparison: and self-commendation the World will pry into, in expectation of some supernatural gift, that may excuse such immodest vainglory. The publisher of my Writings was my unfortunate Rogue Bunge, who preseuted them to his old Masters, as stolen from me▪ now whether they (unable to apprehend conceit) neglected to divulge them abroad, or else (being divulged) None whom I challenged, durst take exceptions; as fearful to invire more Anger, I know not: but sure I am they proved to me of no effect. One merry accident (occasioned by these proceedings) I will not omit thy knowledge.   

CHAP. X.  
NIM being desirous to make thee laugh, doth in this Chapter report a notable merry accident, which befellhiss man Oliver Bunge.  
A Certain young Gentlewoman (enrîcht with a compudent Portion by her disceasod Fathers Will) grew carnally acquainted with a wealthy Ward: one that did not long enjoy her to himself, because he was not always sufficiently provided to please her insatiable Appetite: for 'tis with Maids as with Tobacconists, who having once tasted in delight, what before with Pain they did avoid, they cannot live without it: which made her stray for fresh pasture. At last her Fancy lighted on a Drummer, whose name was Peel: a Fellow limned for prodigality in action: made to people Countries, to beget more Men, than the Plague devours. Her greedy Passion could not attend upon formality, or tedious Time, till Occasion might present her with an accident that would excuso her immodesty, in discovering such dishonest Love: but boldly she sends for him to her father's House, where first she saw him (in the company of a servingman) and unfolds to him her mind, which he admired, and likld: so that the next Morning he stole her from her Friends, brought her to London, and married her. The ward hears of it, pursues them thither; and by a politic inquisition found out their Lodging. Of late time she had made his foolish dotage her mirth, wherefore now he intends she shall be served with the like sauce: purposing to send her a Copy of Verses, wherein he would bitterly deride, her & Peel the Drummer. Of these Verses I became Author by this chance.  
Bunge passing through Fleetstreet about my business, met with an old Master of his, who accompanied the Ward, and hath heretofore been: visited with my Papers. After a little talk between them he acquainted him with what thou hast read, desired him that he would procure me to write some Verses upon that subject, and bring them to the wards logding before night. Bunge presently returned home to tell me the Plot, on which I wrote thus.  

(1)  
Whore, wonder not I write to thee  
In Verse; like some lyric Poet:  
▪ 'tis 'cause thou hast rejected me.  
Yet thinkst not, that I do know it:  
But know, I know that thou art come;  
To know Peel's Drum-stick, he thy Drum.   

(2)  
Perhaps thy Folly may admire  
(Since heretofore my bashful mind  
Did make me dumb) how I aspire,  
So soon to Thunder in this kind:  
But know, I know that my great wrong  
Would make him speak that had no Tongue.   

(3)  
With fierce Alarum you intend  
To summon every Sense to come  
Before this bawdy Night shall end  
Trembling full faint about thy drum:  
As how? I know not, but in this  
They guess aright, that guess amiss.   

(4)  
Peel will suppose thy skin is tough  
And his Stick too weak to break it  
Unless his blow be too too rough,  
As gladly so thou wouldst bespeak it.  
But (alas) 'tis played upon, and worn  
By three Drum-sticks besides my own.   

(5)  
Not till Plagues are hot in house, & field,  
Till all men die, do thou accord  
With him; to venture for a Child,  
'cause whores Issues are so abhorred  
That 'twere not fit the Brat should meet  
A Swaddling-clout, but Winding-Sheet.   

(6)  
Give Peel the Lie; thou mangy Drab,  
Not that I deign with him to fight,  
But 'cause the Lie deserves the Stab,  
Which to receive it thy delight.  
Now wonder not I sing so hoarse what thou hast read,  
For, whore, thou knoust that thou hast had my maidenhead.   
These being fairly written; Bunge conveyed unto the young wards Lodging, who was privately informed, that the Drummer, and his Wife knew of his being in Town, therefore (to avoid his company) changed their abode: but whither went they? even into Turnball-Street: just the politic shift of a poor soldier, whose necessity is so well accommodated, with convenient assistance, to raise him to the height of a good Fortune, that he often falls in climbing, but so low, as he can never reach it again. The House was polluted with a bawdy Tenant: whose acquaintance my Drummer bought dearly on a Saturday Night: reeling into the Door with a consort of base Companions. His love-sick Wife was easily persuaded to believe the Rawd his Mothers own Sister: and the place very convenient to conceal this stolen Marriage. Now those who before informed the ward of their first lodging, dogged them also to this, and presently brought him word, in what a stately Palace the poor Drummer entertained her. Out of a politic prodigality he gave Bunge three Pounds for the Verses: thinking to buy a gratitude so potent in him, that he should suppose no second service full in requital, no though he ventured a beating by it. So whilst the Gentleman (Bungs old Master) entertained him with impertient discourse, the ward enclosed the Verses in an other Paper, which he sealed and superscribed in the true name of his quondam Mistress, lodging at the Sign of Sun and Moon in Turnball-Street: knowing, though Bunge had heard of the name of Peel, yet with hers he was wholly unacquainted: besides to prevent all motives of suspicion, he gave it him in private; saying, we are all mortal, Flesh and Blood: Young men must be tamed when they are lusty. I am now sick of too much health, but that superscription will direct thee to a she Galon, one that will purge the Body of all rampant humours: wholesome she is, though poor. My own Man is a Country-Cockney, never came within the smell of a City, never saw the city's Face; much less the secret parts of it, therefore is unfit to be employed in this business. Now if thou wilt go, and bring her to me, by the virtue of that Letter, I shall exceed in a gratuity: but make haste back, for you must presently also assist us in the delivery of our Verses. The Rogue Bunge suspected nothing, but did impudently steal a modest laughter: turned aside, not as if he were ashamed of what he heard, but of what he was about to speak: Quoth he (as though lost in compliment) O Lord Sir! you shall not need to take care for that necessary implement: I'll provide one against Night; but not out of Turnball-Street: that place cannot afford a Creature worthy your worship's embraces. The ward was glad that he insisted in strengthening a mistake, thanked him for his kindness, and said he would use none but her: he knew she was wholesome, but many of your brave, glorious whores are like Tedula Quinces; the fairer on the outside, the rotner within. Bunge being greedy of sudden employment, took his leave, well satisfied with that reply.  
He was no sooner come within the reach of their Tongues, who border in that hot Continent: but every one (as their fashion is) lured him into their kennel, there to cool him according to a philosophical rule, Heat expels Heat. The sun attracts not clouds faster than these Whores Passengers: in whom Beauty draws corruption to defile itself. Bunge needed not inquire for the sign of the sun and moon, because the properties of both (heat and inconstancy) did possess a Wench, which stood in the same door: and thinking that he was some starved Customer, enticed him to enter: whilst his eyes looking on the sign; found it expedient her request should be accomplished.  
After two oaths sworn in defiance of her secret-parts, and three Busses given in satisfaction for such honest unkindness; he inquires for that Gentlewoman, to whom his Letter was directed. The Whore being wholly unperfect in the knowledge of her Name, did express (by a forgetful admiration, or an inquisitive forgetfulness) small acquaintance; and that very young to: wherefore Bunge thought the Gentlewoman to be a wanton Country Wench, but not yet of residence long enough to know the Frenchdisease: a rare ignorance! which made his Appetite resolve to taste her, before him, that sent him to her. Up stairs he mounted, and the Wench led him through a Labyrinth of dark Clossers: which the Workman seemed subtitly to hide from his own discovery: or from every eye, as ashamed to acknowledge the making of such sinful Cabinets; where aged. Beds oppose each other in envious seituation. Having (I say) passed this real Purgatory, she directed him to a Chamber; wherein he entered, and found the Drummer, and his lass warming the Fire. Believe it Reader, even so: for though the Fire would not warm them, they sat by it to keep away the wind, or to enclose the heat to a narrow dispersion, that so it might reflect upon itself. Though 'tis a question whether there were any Fire at all? for Bunge swore he could not discern enough to warm his eyes. Which makes me think she was inflamed with burning Love, that for his sake could be content of such cold entertainment.  
Bunge liked her face well, but supposed the Drummer to be some learned Pander; that sat expounding to her, the mystery of that calling. When he stepped in, they both stood up (an usual compliment at the first sight of Strangers) and gazing upon one another with speaking eyes; did (as it were) dumbly ask, whether he were known to either? whilst he took her aside and kissed her. The Drummer did not like that, yet durst not express anger, lest a quarrel might call up the bawd, and Whores; so consequently, his Wife discover the conditions of the House, who was yet ignorant of them. But this his sufferance did turn Bunge's likely conjecture (that she was a Country Whore) into a strong belief: for now he conveys her with an entreated force, and the mentioning of a Letter, into the next Chamber: Peeles creeps after them in search of the event, and fastening his eye in a keyhole; perceaved Bunge labouring to make him Cuckold: whilst the Gentlewoman opposed his desires, more with a new wonder, than an old defence, as shrieks, or loud acclamations.  
The soldier lost his Patience, but with a considering. eye found it again: yet so threadbare that he scorned to wear it. Therefore through the doors he went: demanding him, how he durst offer his Person that disgrace? Bunge knew no safer answer than a denial: & supposed by these proceedings that Peele was some blunt Gentleman, who had lately undertaken to be her Lover. Therefore he deprives his Pocket of the Letter, and gave it her: telling him, how he knew the Gentlewoman would acknowledge him better welcome, when she had read that.  
Thus whilst he retired himself aside, in consideration how he might enjoy her Body, they unsealed the Letter: found that blank, but the Paper therein enclosed, filled with Verses. Peele being loath to degenerate from his Brethren of the Sword (who in this kind love to express more will, than they can ability) undertook to read them: but indeed could not in any reasonable time. And spying his own name by chance, was greedy to understand the cause of its being there, resolving to tickle Bunge below, because after her help was joined to his, he descried the wrong, and entreated her to stay there: least Bunge (urging the base custom of the House for his excuse) might disgrace him for bringing her to such a Lodging. But she, poor Soul, was willing to be commanded, whilst Bunge at his entreaty, and promise to answer the Letter, walks with him down the stairs. Having descended one pair, Bunge entreated him to dispatch the Letter in the next Chamber: in the mean time he would go up, and discourse with her about it: for he remembered now he was so commanded by the Gentleman that sent him. Peeles fingers itched to be at his face: but the room being towards the Street, agreed not with that purpose. Therefore he entreated him to visit the cellar: where (quoth he) having drunk a Health to the Gentleman, you shall go up and commit your pleasure. The phrase liked him well; so down they went. Just upon their entering into the Seller door, Bung desired to be acquainted with his name that he might tell the Ward to whom he was so much beholding. He answered, his name was Peel, by profession a poor Drummer: at which Bung step'd back whilst his Breech made as many Buttons, as he thought to have broke with drinking. His rescue (which most commonly consisted in the dexterity of his Heels) was barred from him by Five strong doors. Therefore he pulls up his Spirits, even unto his Tongue: thinking to fright the Drummer with big words.  
Just in such a cellar as this (quoth he) this— let me see a little— I, in such a one as this, did my weak Arm beat Nine Rogues; that would needs enforce me to pledge my enemy's Health. The Drummer thought that a fearful lie, and presently saluted him with a Box upon the Ear, seconded that with another; which felled him to the Ground, and there kikt him. Bung scorned to resist, but cried Murder! murder! help ho! help! The Bawd came thundering down with a brace of Whores, to know what the matter was. Peel having acquainted them with the cause that motived this revenge, they all cried out, Geld the Rogue, geld the cannibal. Bung applies himself once more to be rescued by an old Friend (his Tongue) and begs mercy from them, swearing he knew not those Verses were enclosed in the Paper, which pacified the Whores: who brought him up to the Street door, and thrusting him out, did shut it after him. Homewards he creeps with his Face muffled in his Cloak. Beating he did never greatly love: therefore wholly dedicates his Studies, how to revenge himself on the young Ward, and Peel the Drummer, which afterwards he did: but Preserve the manner how to be related in the next Chapter.   

CHAP. XI.  
NIM takes occasion to present thy acceptance with a Character of a Whore: and hath graced his expression, by the relation of Bung's most witty revenge.  
IN our way of relating Bung's revenge, I hold it requiste to pass through turnbull-street: and there admire (Custom) which is to be ignorant in Folly: Not like a handsome Novice: who walks by with his eyes fastened on his Back; prying carelessly who looks upon him? who beckons him in? if nobody supplies that expectation, than he begins to hate his own Face, to discommend what before he praised, as purposing to sell, like the poor Stallion, his masculine beauty. No Reader; I intend to pick out from the whole rabble a Whore: and prefer her in a Character to thy immaginary view. If thou affect my description, thou wilt loathe her: such a strange antipathy bears it with its own sense, having (indeed) chosen a Subject that infects wit. Suppose where she stands in a red-waistcoat, that is more out of fashion then her Face, which was made fifty years before it. No doubt she hath worn a Gown too: but that was when the sale of her Beauty could return the cost of it into the Bawds Purse. Talk with her, and she will bring thee into an ignorant jealousy, or a Jealous suspense; who was thy Father? For she slanders all Women, to make herself appear less common in comparison: and usually in such ambiguous phrase, which effeminish policy affords: as thus. It may be she is, it may be she is not: but alas, alas, I know what I know, i. faith, yet will accuse nobody.  
She is afraid to go to Church, lest the Sermon might convert her: and hates the Story of a decayed Whore, because she affects not melancholy. Her Breath is strong enough to overcome thy sense of smelling, and hath already scorched up her Nose: which to obscure, she wears before it a green Curtain. Being naked, she seems an entire scab; a great proportionable boil: and her Clothes being on her, look like plasters, yet this is she who heretofore did mince a stolen pace as if she scorned Motion: whom Pride did become as a full Oath doth a desperate Gallant: that fichewed with a degenerate posture of the chin: tripped on her agile Toes like a kibeheeled-fairy: that shrieked at the drawing of a Knife: swooned at the sight of fat Meat: that affected singularity in graceful oaths, clipped the King's English: and seemed ignorant how rightly to call that, which wantonly she nicknamed. Ogiddy-Headed Time! that dost so delight in alteration: that hast changed the shape of a glorious, handsome courtesan, into the substance of a Fulsome, nasty, stinking Whore.  
But now let our relation pursue Bunge: who within an Hour after he was beaten, returned unto the ward's Lodging: finding him at his arrival tickled with a mad Laughter: whilst he carried himself as altogether unsensible of any beating, and demands what motived that mirth. The Ward mistaking the dissimulation, changed his Humour into a sadder: asking whether he had delivered the Letter to his Mistress? no (quoth Bung) she was gone forth to Supper, in the company of a certain sweetheart: but I left it with the bawd: who told me she was to meet them at Eight of the Clock in Old Exchange, and then she would deliver it. The Ward supposed all this was true: but grieved that the Verses were so insuccessively left in Peel's Lodging: yet in expectation of some accidental merriment, he commanded him to meet him likewise in the Exchange at the appointed Hour. Bung (promising to accomplish his desires) took his leave, and went to a tavern, whose backdoor enters into Turnball-Street: where he wrote a Note to Peele, and sent it by a Drawer; accompanied with a Gallon of Sack. The Contents of which, desired his Friendship, and that by the virtue of the Wine, he might be licenced presently to speak with him, where they would advise in composing of a Plot, how to be revenged upon the Ward.  
Peel having received the Letter, and the 〈◊〉 present, returned him word, he was sorry for what was past, and greatly desired that he would presently come thither, to receive part of the Wine, and part of satisfaction. Bung was glad his Plot did thrive so well, went thither; and having made Peele promise that he would be in the Exchange about Eight of the Clock (to beat the Ward) he runs to the Poultry-Counter: where he did Fee a brace of sergeants to attend Peel in Cheap▪ Side, that as he came back from the Exchange, they might arrest him upon an Action of Battery.  
The Hour of meeting was now at hand, and Bung arrived there first. But presently after him, marched in the Ward, accompanied only with the Gentleman, (of whom we have spoken heretofore) who came thither purposely to see the new married couple. Our revengeful-politician perceived now a gross oversight, in the first contrivement of this gear. For whocan suppose the Ward would come thither alone? or that having another Gentleman with him, he was not able to restore more blows, than Peel could give. Therefore their Backs being turned, Bung steals out of the next Gate, and runs almost as far as Paul's in search of a Porter. At last he hired one to fly to the Exchange, and entreat the Gentleman (relating to him his name, and fashion of apparel) to come presently to the Queene's-Armes by Holborn-Bridge: for there (quoth he) you must say his Brother is arrived very sick. The Porter delivered his errand effectually▪ and the Gentleman (without inquiring who sent that message) did take a hasty Farewell of the Ward. Bung returns thither again, and finding him walking alone, went to him. By and by in comes Peel, and suddenly spied that Face, which his Fist did intend to batter: not doubting but Bung (according as he had promised) would assist him in the assault.  
The first Blow that he bestowed upon the Ward, did so stagger him, that for the present he was unable to resist. But Bung (taking a Key out of his Pocket) rewarded Peeles Pate with a prodigal recompense: and in the mean time the Ward recovered strength enough, to be his own Avenger. Peele felt himself betrayed to the mercy of two merciless Men: but stood yet stiff to his tackling, being most pitifully mauled with Bung's Key: who did not forget (neither) to lend some seven or Eight blows with it, unto the wards face: the which he delivered so cunningly, that the Ward thought they came from Peel; and cried out murder! swearing how Peele fought with a Smith's Hammer. He replies again (with a loud voice) that it is nothing but a trick to excuse his own treachery: for I myself (quoth he) have received Thirteen blows, able to kill an ox. The people now came thronging on to part the Combatants. Peel being loath to be brought in public examination, stole secretly away. The wards Beaver Hat (bordered with pearl, and adorned with a rich Hatband) lay upon the Ground: which Bunge (feeling with his Foot, and favoured by the dark time of Night) conveyed into his Codpisse. The owner inquires diligently for it, and Bung seems more diligent in the recovery: having borrowed a Light of one that stood by him purposely to seek it, or rather to darken the appearance of his own hypocritical Theft, at last proclaims it to be lost. Thus whilst controversies are here decided by a busy multitude, the poor Drummer (walking homewards) was arrested, and carried to the Countor. A while after the Ward, and Bung were licenced to go home to their Lodgings: for the Constable (whom this hurly-burly drew thither) was contented (since the Offensive party could not be found) to commit a wonder, by standing to reason. And our Ward in complemental gratulation, went home bareheaded.  
The next Morning Bang's appearance was summoned to answer that arrest which was served on Peele. He prepares himself to prove it warrantable, but thirsting for a more full revenge, he entrears an old Friend (who was a mere stranger in London) to enter an Action of Debt against him (in some unknown name) for Twelve Hundred pounds; which the Knave performed, and within an Hour after, departed from the City. Peel was cleared of the first Action by asking Bung forgiveness: who bought that honour with Four Shillings bestowed upon a justice's Clerk. The second kept▪ him in the Counter Five days: until at last (having no adversary to declare against him in the Court) he got his liberty: though he had paid soundly for being a Prisoner. What became of him and his Wife afterwards, I know not. But the Wards Face did almost enrich a Surgeon: for Bung's Key had battered it into such an ugly form, that it seemed ever after a bug-bear to his own affection.   

CHAP. XII  
NIM complains of Bungs villainous service, intends to be rid of him; declares what himself hath spent since he came to London. And discourses most wittily upon a book of his, called; An invective against the Plebeians, and citizens of London.  
Though my Man Bunge was possessed with a sudden Wit, and enriched with all those qualities that compose a perfect shark: yet custom did operat so potently in him, that he could not choose but cozen himself: which doth impertinently mar those parts, that were bad enough before. He persuaded himself how I loved to be cheated of my money. O credulous Confidence! can belief fasten on that which Supposition cannot reach? 'tis strange: unless he strove to make himself famous by being singular in a new Opinion. One morning he presented me with a counterfeit hatband: verily believing that I would pay him forty Shillings for it. I misliked the price before I knew the quality of the stuff; carried it to a Goldsmiths, who being asked whether it was worth so much, laughed, and told me it was Copper. Then I returned home again, and demanded him, wherefore he went about to cheat me? but he enquired, of what? I answered, of Forty Shillings. Forty Shillings (Said he)? that's Money. Money! (replied I) what of that? Mary (quoth he) for money I'll cheat my own Father if I can. A gracious son! but surely his Father begot him by stealth, whilst the Servants coming scared him in the Action, for he was both a thief, and a Coward. When I first entertained him▪ (perceaving me a Stranger in the knowledge of our City fashions) he told me, that to let him go in Cloaks lined with Velvet, would be much for my credit. I thanked him heartily for his care, but in the performance appeared an heretic. Such like tricks as these made me resolve to part with him the next Quarter Day. And 'twas a tardy remedy: for to tell thee the plain truth, I had by this time (being just Ten Months since I came to London) consumed Six score pounds of my Estate; so there remained but Sixty Pounds behind: which consisted in the residue of those Jewels, that were yet unsolde. And all this proceeded through▪ the prodigal directions of that damnable Rogue. Perhaps thou wilt admire (considering my Purse was so shallow) how I could take so much out of it, yet never feel the Bottom, never call to mind that I dipped not my Hand into a fountain. 'tis true indeed, it could not ever flow, but my Hopes guided me to a flood: such a one as Jupiter made, when he showered down Gold to Danae. It encompassed a certain Castle; which I had built in the air: whose foundation was laid upon a little Book (Than newly finished) thinking it would have made me rich, both in Credit, and Money. But when conjectures came to the trial, the Stationer durst not buy it, alleging that I was not publicly known to the World, and how 'tis the author's name which makes a Book sell, not the worth of it. Then I answered; if it were printed, I should soon be famous, and I was also contented to honour him with my maidenhead. But (quoth he) I am not contented to be so honoured. I do not love to hoist any. Man high, with my own Purse-Strings, or stoop to lift another up.  
This Book was entitled An invective against the citizens, and Plebeians of London. It treated of Plebeians first by reason of the humble course of my proceedings: because I ever observed to ascend by degrees. Besides, judgement being once strengthened for ambitious Study, with the knowledge of material matter, easily climes to apprehend, what otherways had been above its reach. I could not choose but think this book would prosper, because the Subject savoured of divinity: being made to suppress uncivil commotions in the one, and in the other covetous abuses.  
The Blebeians did then much trouble the State, with insolent behaviour. For ambassadors (passing through the Streets) were rudely interrupted, pointed, and laughed at in ignominious contempt, besieged in their Houses, and found no sanctuary in their Offices: but were almost fain to beg a life of them, who (irrationably) under vale wed it in themselves. These outrages were most commonly committed by the basest me chanicall sont: who styled themselves Apprentices to attract more company. When they were once sallied forth; they needed no encouragement to Action, for a rash self will did make them blind to all impediments. Unless thou wilt suppose a couple scaling up a Wall, whilst another, that stands close beneath them (perceaving they have got the general applause, and himself to be idle, because no bricklayer) serves them with this flattering encouragement, Well done Jack, well done Dick: byth' mass, you are no Cowards: you care not two straws for King, nor King's Mate.  
Now some discontented Foreigners gave out, these Mutinies did continually revive, by the wilful permission of our City-Senators: whose actions relish much of Popular inclination. For authority, or Wealth (being but fortunatly achieved) cannot alter the constitution of the Blood. Yet howsoever my censure is more charitable: nor can any man suppose them faulty, but in a fearsull connivency at the execution of strict Statutes. Considering (likewise) they must necessarily have compelled them, to be under the disposure of the Law, before effectual sentence could pass upon them. And is there any thing more dangerous then to encounter with armed-Rebellion? especially where the adversary is animated with the hope of inestimable Pillage? no surely. But me thinks I hear it alleged, how divers were caught, yet went unpunished: to which I am lost in a reply. For though exemplary-punishment hath somewhat in it that is unjust, and in particular to the prejudice of some: yet 'tis recompensed by the general good of the whole. To deliver a Character of this monster multitude, were but obscurely to represent unto thy view, what themselves (unwilling to hide their own defect) do manifestly discover. Notwithstanding, something we will say of them.  
They are perilous in their own vocations: and proud of that skill which is gotten merely by use, laughing at other Men with a kind of pitiful-disrespect; because they are not cunning in a faculty, which is (indeed) below the desire of knowledge. They account the nobility, and Gentry, but as superficial Creatures: Men that cannot by managing a Saw or Mattock replenish a Double-jug. No nor maintain life by slight of hand. They hold scholars to be (as it were) Bl'oxford Men: unnecessary-Gutts, that study only to grow hungry: and when they are hungry, will devour a plaguy deal of meat, or so. They run headlong to a boisterous Action, as though afraid lest Consideration might overtake them before they have begun it. But having once begun, they scorn to desist, until the old saying be verified. Every beginning must have an ending. They are the Children of Report, composed of news: and fed with the noise of alteration. Ten years' Peace doth make coin invisible amongst them, so that they forget the fashion of a Shilling. Ten years' wars makes them call Gold, dirt, and give it the defiance. But now their Swords have been long rusty, for want of Spanish-Throates to scour them. They seem most learned in physiognomy, and make of their Confidence a Perspective, through which they can behold a great man's Heart, situated in his Face: nay though he be a Coward, and have none at all. When they are sick, they esteem the World to be a bubble, a transitory thing, and all men mortal. They die of the same Religion that the King professes:   

CHAP. XIII  
NIM rips open the Hearts of citizens, condemns them justly. Builds another Castle in the air; and relates the pretty fashion of it.  
LOndon was at that time possessed with more several humours, than Action could invent ways to express them in. High affairs seemed to succeed diversely in effect: as though manadged by sundry inclinations. And opulent citizens drew much complemental observance from the nobility. I held always an envious Antipathy with the sons of Fortune: therefore in that book accused them of divers enormities: which if I should here reiterate I might be thought satirical. Although my intent (by this book) is to destroy that humour in others. Wherefore thou shalt only participate of this my Description. They are exceeding covetous; and the sin is in them so natural, so dotingly affected, that they neglect all modest form to hide it from a public observation: excusing it to their Consciences with a fearful probability of war. They never feel ease, but in Labour and trouble. Those that are rich strive to Gentilize their Female offspring: but evermore pay for that ambition. As Wealth exalts them into Office, so they discharge it with their Purses, not with their brains. Authority (though in a low degree) heaves their hearts into their mouths: for they will vent their Thoughts, as if their Lips were opened by a privilege: perusing the actions of the King with a sawcy-comment, and discover a great desire to mould his Affection in their own disposure: though (indeed) they weigh worth, like Gold, in a payer of Scales: where the lightest piece ascends, but the heaviest (which is the best) remains below. The politic reason why they love Peace, is, because they hate to buy a war. They despise war because 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin. Besides they are not valiant, even to the Fourth degree of Comparison, (that is desperate); for they wear their Hearts in their purses, like Cowards, who going to fight, carry their Ransoms in their Pockets. They always profess themselves poor, because 'tis a chargeable-glory to be rich in the King's books. Their Religion is weak in effect, and strong in form: depending much on custom, more on Superstition, and most of all on zeal. But 'tis a politic zeal: such as preserves Government more than Religion. Or rather an exemplary zeal; that doth beget, and warm Faith in others, but heats not their own souls. Now though our opinion is more logically maintained; in that we do not argue from particulars, but make a general accusation: yet know (Reader) there have been many citizens, whose Virtue lends some lustre to their posterity. Notwithstanding I aver the Virtue of a good citizen, differeth very much from the Virtue of a good Man. For the one useth all virtues agreeable with a pure godly life: the other observes only the laws, which were made to preserve civil commodity.  
But 'tis time now that I return unto myself. One Morning (lying in the Bed) I fell deeply to consider, how I Might accrue profit by the disbursement of my Ffty pounds. At last (according to my old custom) I built another Castle in the air: laying the Foundation on my Face, and proper Person. But the substance of it, was to furnish myself with rich apparel: and afterwards assault the disposition of some Wealthy Lady. For my Man Bung had often told me, that divers Gentlemen (whom he knew) were bravely maintained by their Mistresses. O such fruitful Land did I desire to till! which makes Labour a delightful sport, and requites ease with Gold. As for Divinity, I would not think on it, lest it should make me melancholy. Besides (like a damned Rogue) I held whoredom to be the holiest sin that is: because Repentance ceaseth on the Heart, presently after it is committed.  
Now, art thou strangely desirous to know the manner of my proceedings? to understand in what kind I did shape this purposed adventure? I'll tell thee: but first prepare to admire my Capacity, for thy knowledge never owned such a perilous Plot before. Which was, that I should go to see a Play in Blackfriars: and there (by all necessary consequences, or rather inspired assurance) some rich Lady would cast her eye on me, and the same night me on her. Be not thou astonished Reader, neither suppose it impossible that Nature can be so opulent, or he that is mortal, possess such a strong Brain. For (Alas Man!) heretofore I was as full of these learned-Stratagems, as an egg is full of meat.  
Fifty Pounds accoutred me from Top to Toe: having been very thrifty in laying out my Money, and careful to refuse Bunges advice, for he brought me a tailor, whom custom had made to steal from himself. A Slave that the devil durst not trust with his old Clothes; no, though he might gain his Soul in lieu of the Theft.  
Thus like a true Englishman (who wears his Mother too much in his apparel) I entered the theatre, and sat upon the Stage: making low congees to divers Gentlemen; not that I knew them, but I was confident, they would requite me in the same kind: which made the Spectators suppose us of very old, and familiar acquaintance. Besides (that I might appear no Novice) I observed all fashionable customs; As delivering my suit to a more apparent view, by hanging the Cloak upon one Shoulder: or letting it fall (as it were) by chance. I stood up also at the end of every Act, to salute those, whom I never saw before. Two Acts were finished before I could discover any thing, either for my Comfort then, or worth my relation now. Unless it were punycall absurdity in a Country-Gentleman: who was so caught with the natural action of a Youth (that represented a ravished Lady) as he swore aloud, he would not sleep until he had killed her ravisher: and how 'twas not fit such Rogues should live in a commonwealth. This made me laugh, but not merry.  
Anon after, I spied a gentlewoman's eye, fixed full upon me. Hope and despair threw me into such Distractions, that I was about to bid a Boy (who personated Cupid in the Play) to shoot at her with his counterfeit Arrow. But she presently disclaimed me her Object: and with the like inconstancy gazed upon another. About the beginning of the Fourth Act, my Face withstood a fresh encounter, given me by a Lady's eye, whose seat opposed mine. She looked steadfast on me, till the Play ended; seeming to survey my Limbs with amorous curiosity: whilst I advanced them all, to encounter her approbation. A great desire I had to see her Face: which she discovered, by unmasquing it to take her leave of a Gentleman. But if ever I beheld one so ill-favoured? do thou abhor my Book. She looked like December, in the midst of April, old and crabbed in her Youth. Her Nose stood towards the southeast point: and Snot had fretted a preposterous channel in the most remote corner of her Lip. Sure she was chaste, chaste because deformed: and her deformitic (repugnant to the common course of Nature) might beget that chastity: but in whom? in others, not in herself; unless necessity did force it. For no doubt she would be as lecherous as the mountain-goat, had not nature's qualmishness proved a strong contradiction to her desire: who heaved the Gorge, at her imperfect perfecting: therefore had no Stomach to make a Man fitting her embracements. Yet she wore jewels, for the which I could willingly have kissed her in the dark. And perhaps too (by guilded provocation) supplied the Office of a Husband.  
Her ugliness made me suppose that nothing could be too base for her acceptance: therefore I (following her down the stairs) resolved to discover a goodwill to her, either by a wanton gesture of my Body, or whispering in her Ear just as she came forth into the Street, (her Usher being step'd aside to compliment with parting Company) I proffered my service to attend her home, if she missed any of her Friends. She suspecting that I thought her to be a Whore, told me aloud I was much mistaken. Her Brother (unknown to me) stood behind us, and asked her; what the matter was? M'arry, (quoth she) this Gentleman takes me for some common Creature. He with all violent dexterity struck me on the Face; and afterwards went about to draw his Sword. But I slunk through the press of people, and very tamely conveied myself home. My Man Bunge (who attended there all the playtime, to save charges) saw this: and heard the Young-Gallant swear (after I was gone) if ever he met me, he would make my Heart the Scabbard of his Sword. These woeful tidings he brought to my Chamber, so that my costly Experiment was now concluded, and my glorious Garments altogether useless. For I durst not visit Theaters any more, lest I should meet with him, or Women elsewhere, as fearful of the like entertainment.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
NIM mentions his proceedings against some of the nobility, and what success he had: afterwards (in a Pamphlet) discovers all the defects of his own penning: sends Bunge to sell it, whose bad adventures moves him to rail on Fate.  
Tush! hang up sadness! as a thing (indeed) only fit for the gallows, whereto each condemned thief, brings as little as he can, lest it might deprive him of a minute's life, so cheat the Hangman of his Fee. There remained a way as yet untrodden on; a highway too: thou apprehend'st me Reader: My Pen never had to do with the nobility, whereof one was most eminent in high favour, so consequently in vulgar Hate. For vulgar hatred proceeds from Envy. Him, and all his Kindred did I make progress through fiddler's Noses: but in Songs of such fortunate composure, as in half a term made a whole Consort Usurers. Bunge by dispersing Nine, gathered together Five and Thirty Shillings. Five he retained for swearing to his dull Chapmen, they were well penned; the rest I received with great joy, being the first time I sold my Wit for Money.  
These Songs were seasoned with bitter accusation, and not in such hypocritical phrase, as doth disguise Sense from common Capacities, but stuffed with immodest bluntness. Inquire not what ground I had for this action, since there was so little that I beg thou wouldst not stand upon't: and apprehend Reader (by way of secrecy) that satirists (like dogs) bark most at Men they know not: the reason lurks in Nature. Report is their chief Intelligencer: therefore their accusation never singles out Vice in any particular Man, but observing the complexion and quality of the persons make their general aim at what is most probable to be hitten. This project was as short lived as my other: for arriving at his ear (whom they too much concerned) the fiddlers were sent to Prison, where they sung like Birds in Cages, to the tune of o woeful dumps! and Bunge (who was pursued by a Warrant) played least in sight.  
Invention was never barren, when it coupled with necessity. In two weeks space I finished a little Pamphlet, that treated of English Oratory; collecting all the defects, in my own Works, which after I had derided, were exposed to public laughter. Amongst the rest I acknowledged an affectation in phrase; where Nature (confident of her own abilities) too much despised Art. The Second was that in my inserted Tales (which overswiftly pursued one another) I sometimes lost the material relation, by finding jests. Thirdly I accused my Parenthesis of multiplicity and length: which troubled the Reader to join the divided sense, and recover his own breath.  
Late after Supper I commanded Bunge to carry it unto a Stationer, and name some other Author, whose authority might advantage the sale. He marches to the Shop, and Fathers it on a great Divine, who in his Youth, begot many of like complexion: and as bad luck would have it (being newly come from the Country) entered there to buy books. The Stationer wellcomed him, saying; I hope you will be more reasonable than your Man, in the price of this Pamphlet, considering the poor bargain I had of the last. What Man? what Pamphlet, quoth the Doctor? Bunge (whose apprehension was as quick as his Feet) left them to admire at his cheating enterprise: ran up Saint Martins-Lane, and from thence to little Britain: where he proffered it to another, for Three Pounds, but returned home loaden with an old answer; that their Shops were too full of such trivial stuff. A truth potent o'er belief! For every coxcomb that hath so much unfortunate wit, to know his own imperfections, will give Money to have them printed.  
But O insupportable misery! can I thrive in no course? what wriggled Fusse; dry-dugged, mangy Witch, produced me from the Womb with horrid imprecations? what sinister Planet governed at my Nativity? O Fortune! thou Whore! thou Bitch! more fickle than Inconstancy! whose Alm'ner is the Southern Wind, whose wheel is made of a woman's brainpan. Though I had been born a Monster, left a beggar; yet shaped so ugly as might fright Compassion from coming near me with her alms: doomed to grow old in misery, to live till Time had made me a second Cripple, who knows but kind Necessity would have turned to Patience in me: but here Patience must become a Miracle: Since I am discarded where probability crowned my Hopes, and might seduce unbelief herself, to confidence.   

CHAP. XV.  
NIM's hostess denies to trust him, he fasts two days, pawns his Clothes, then resolving to part with Bunge, sends for him to a tavern, and gives, him learned counsel; but after Bunges reply, he doth change his mind and returns with him to his patron's Heir, promising (on a smooth condition) to bless this book with a second Part.  
Costly experiments, and Bunges attendance had so impoverished my Purse, that I wanted to supply my stomach. I did owe my hostess also for a Months diet; which failing to pay (according to my promise) and she perceaving I had few visits from City Friends, urged her to say one Morning, she would trust me no longer So that my last refuge consisted in pawing my Clothes, which my Childish disposition (never made impudent by want) durst not attempt. Half an hour before Dinner, and Supper, I sent Bunge upon some frivolous errant: in the mean time slunk forth, walked out a meal, and returned picking my Teeth, hoping to invent a shift less disgraceful. But two days fasting, and his grim looks at home, made me weary of such modesty: so that at Night (when there was nobody within but a little Boy) I ran to Charter Houselane: where I walked to and fro, by a brokers shaped, half an hour, before Cowardly reputation would suffer me to enter. At last in I went: and desired the the broker, his Man might go home with me to fetch Two suits of apparel. He granted my request, and the things being packed up before, we soon returned, but could not borrow above eighteen pounds, upon that which cost me Fifty: whereof Twelve Shillings they took back for registering.  
Thus my Heart being somewhat lightened by the weight of my Purse, I went to a tavern that was near my Lodging, and sent a Drawer home to attend Bung's arrival, that he might fetch him, purposing now to dismiss his service, accompany the next Wind to Gellderland, and there serve in Garrison. I satisfied my Hunger, with Cerberus his Diet (Sops) which being made of rich Sack half foxed me before he came. So soon as he had entered the room he swore himself out of breath. I demanded the cause, Why Sir (quoth he) is the air food for Men? or did you suppose me a chameleon? I excused all by urging his own Language, for he told me once: it was the fashion for serving-men to disburse Money for their diet, and require it when their Master's Exechequer was able to repay. So having commanded a Gallon of Wine, and the drawer's absence, I bade him sit, drink, and expect alteration. By that time I had shared half the Wine, a strange humour possessed my Brain, and begot rare imaginations! such as fooled Don-Quixot, uttering in a lamentable vein this high and mighty sense.  
O Bunge! my breast hath entertained new tenants since first I owned thy service, Thoughts of too tall a stature, such as scorned those humble Roofs, which the plain Country held as gaudy fashion, therefore went from me to change their Mansions: but return maimed, able in nothing, unless to affirm the Proverb; Pride will have a fall. Know Oliver! I am made an experiment by cruel Fate, to try within a hairs breadth the sufferance of a Man, crossed in all designs with strange prevention. Thou art of disposition quick, and subtle, and hast discerned the World with a discreet eye. Thy Experience is of a full Age, and must be now thy Master, thou no more my Servant. This health to thy good Fortunes— There's thy Wages; due since the last Quarter: which with some advice (sent from my love) is all I can bestow.  
When thou thinkst upon thy poor fortunes, compare them with a meaner man: for so thou mayst lessen in thyself the greatness of an other, and by that aggravate thine own. The Plebeian whose natural Spirit is humbled with a course prenticeship, strives for a mastery though it be only of his Trade. Do not enrich thyself with a bawdy-industry, nor occasion thy Master's folly by thy apt presentment of it. Sooth him not in's drink; nor by admiring his unconquered looks, tell him 'tis a handsome Vice. Strive to make him more acquainted with thy privacy, than thyself with his secrets. Be not impudent in jesting, for that cheats thy Wit of her reward not procuring laughter, but derision: though the first be the true applause. Be not proud, for Time doth infect the owner of that sin with such an ignorance, that he shall scarce know himself. The gaudy Servant beggars his Purse, to make his Masters rich: for Fashion, and comely thrift, bids a plain cloak usher a golden livery. Buy not the envy of thy fellows, with his favour: nor lose it by presuming on't. Let not the poor tenant observe thee as his landlord's Heir; whilst thou with a saucy distance of lame state, strengthnest his credulity. Be honest in all things, for so thou mayst live, to bestow this counsel on a Servant of thy own, and end thy days in peace. When thou shalt chance to talk of me hereafter, cleanse my Fame with hiding those defects, that show me human, and my Fortune blind. Go, be happy.  
All this while he was a greedy Auditor, but perceaving me about to take my ultimum vale, steps up and replies thus. Sir, we are so tender of our outward credit, that necessity is never discovered, until it discovers itself, I mean through the Ellbowes: but yours is not so little as to escape my sight, I understood the cause why you employed me about impertinent errants: though you expressed small charity, and less physic, to prescribe walking for an empty stomach, when no satisfaction in meat, wellcomed my return. Neither was my fearful Experience (feeling even now the lightness of your trunk) ignorant how, and where it had forsook its weight. The tract and course of poverty I have often traced, and know she is most undone in her relief. A pox upon your grave counsel! which is framed as though proceeding from a beggarly patriarch. No advice is worthy of acceptance, but what accompanies a liberal Hand: 'tis Money that makes a man able to keep it. You direct me how to behave myself in service, when I have no Master: an enterprise weak and Childish; just like your actions, since you became a Londoner: which if presented to the World in History, would beget more laughter than esteem. Come if you will seize on my advice, add unto your Money Fifty Pounds: furnish me for a journey to the Court: where, by Wit, I will get relation to some Man of Ranke: grow a prompt intelligencer; and make you a satirist. Such a one as Kings with flattery shall be glad to silence. A plague on all beggarly occupations! I affect them not.  
Now Reader, judge thou whether this Rogue was not able to seduce a Novice. I could sooner eat Iron then part with him: but the next Morning, we sat in consultation how to get this Money. At last it was resolved I should counterfeit myself to be lately Knighted, and he ride with me to my patron's Heir: adding on all occasions Sir, unto my Christian-name. But stay awhile, and let thy memory return, unto the last part of our Fourth Chapter: where I threatened to make my acquaintance costly unto a Clothier; that overtook me on the highway. He often visited my Lodging, and now I requited him by borrowing his Gelding (worth fourteen pounds) to take the air as far as Fullham but indeed detained him a longer journey, and bought a nag for my Man Bunge. I riding like a Knight-errant.  
But how my Patron's Heir entertained me, when I returned, and all the rest of my occurences, I am resolved to publish with great care, and industry. Which if you ever mean to see, invoke the powers above, that what's already written may take him, whose acceptance makes my labour, ease: whose command (by I wot not what instinct) ties my soul to a more delightful service, than either gain, or popular applause.   
FINIS.