THE SCOFFER SCOFFED,  
THE SECOND PART.  
Being certain Select DIALOGUES, Of a Merry Wagg of Antiquity.  
Newly put into English Fustian, for the Consolation of those that had rather Laugh and be Merry, then be Merry and Wise.  
LONDON Printed for Edward Goldin, in Rainbow-Court, in Aldersgate-street, 1684.   

THE Epistle to the Reader.  
HE was a stout Man, who first ventured to Eat an Oyster; was the saying of a Crowned Head: And without all doubt, 'tis as True, as Witty: for all Men know, that every Work is most difficult in the Commencement; and that 'tis easier to Imitate, than Invent: Tho I never saw any thing of that Nature, but what came very short of its Original: 'tis like the fancied Ghost of a departed Author, so much unlike, and so wrapped up in its infernal Accoutrements, so very Thin, and Pale, so Ghastly Horrid; that every man who sees, and reads it, is as much Scared, and Frighted, as if he had been Bugbeared by some Stygian Spectre; Or as the Celestial Author of the Winged-Wonder-Working-Angels has it; As if a man had enjoyed a Sucubus in the shape of a Handsome Woman. For which reason, I suppose a late Author called his Burlesque, Butler's Ghost; and certainly 'twas a proper Name for it too; for I believe, it as much deserves to be Entitled the Fourth part of Hudibras, as the Pilgrim's Progress merits to be the Fifth, to that Number; and this I say (not to lessen the Credit of the Ghost, or its Author) but because no man can do too much Honour, to the memory of the Ingenious, and Learned, though (much to be Lamented) Unfortunate Mr. Butler  
And next to him, I can't but mention the Admired Mr. Cotton, whose Scarronides are more to be valued, than all the English Burlesque now Extant, setting Mr. Butler's self aside: And since my doing of Lucian, I have seen a little Book Entitled, the Scoffer Scoffed (as I believe) written by the same Author; being Lucian's Dialogues of the God's, in the same Burlesque: And truly had I seen it before, I should not have ventured upon any of the Dialogues under that Title. Knowing all that I could expect from so doing, must be only to publish to the World, my Dulness; and draw a weak Copy, after so great a Master, without I could have found some unintelligible Title to have atoned for the Presumption (like that of the beforementioned Ghost); nor can I now be contented (being much delighted with things of that Nature) without begging the Favour of Mr. Cotton, to be so distinguished: Though perhaps some Pharisaical Critics may object against the Reasonableness of it; as if 'tis impossible for a man, while Living, to Fright the World with his wand'ring Ghost: But since I desire to be so Honoured, I hope he will grant me the favour, and the World forgive me; for a Ghost is a Ghost still.  
But now, perhaps it may be expected I should say something in behalf of my own; but in the first place, I don't think they deserve it: 'Tis your Business kind Reader, if ye like 'em: If ye Refuse it, I shall be content with the Pleasure I took in Writing 'em; though I believe they would have pleased better, had the Parenthesis in the Title, been left out; especially those who done't understand a word of that Ancient Language; but however, you see I am modest, as to my Learning. But the Bawdy of the First Part has given Offence (I hear) to some of our Aged Ingenioso's, though they at the same time, are not wholly guiltless in things of the like Nature; but granting there is a sprinkling of it in some of the First Dialogues, I hope it is more excusable in Youth, and Gingling Burlesque, than in Argumental Dialoguing Prose done by Experienced Age: For such is Lucian's Works, and such was Lucian.  
Perhaps it might now seem reasonable for me, to give ye an account of Lucian and his Works; but for two Reasons I decline it. First, Because the Illiterate don't deserve it: And Secondly, The Learned, (if I should) would find nothing therein (to them) Novel: But if any of 'em desire it, I must refer 'em to the late Learned and Ingenious Translater 
* Mr. Ferrand Spence. ; where (if they can understand English) they may be abundantly satisfied.  
And now give me leave to tell you, I did at the first design a Dedication, to these Dialogues: But for some Reasons I met with in the Interval, I thought it would not be worth my while. First, Because the Patrons of this Age, the less they deserve; the more they expect to be Complemented. And though Speed and Baker are not able to furnish one with History enough to entail 'em, to an honest Family; 'tis impossible to please, without two or three Pages in Praise of their Ancestors; when all the help too a man has for such a Task, is only to be found in such like Authors. For another Reason too, because if the Writer be a man, who pretends to Poetry, and has a little more sense, than the drudging Man of Money can express over a Tedious Quart of Claret; 'Tis ten to one but he must be forced to take up with an Old Proverb for his pains, Poet and Pennyless: And if he be not so at that time, 'tis as many more, to nothing; but his Patron shall endeavour to make him so for the future.  
And in the next place, for a Story (something like this) a Friend told me the other day.  
A Young Scribbler in Rhyme, after some Pains and Study, having finished a short Poem on the Times; thought it convenient, as well as fashionable, to Dedicate it to one of his Old Bottle-Companions, one that he had spent much Money with in all sort of Fashionable Conversation the Town could allow, and was as frolicksomly Vicious a man, as one would wish to drink withal. Many Compliments he gave him, and told him he was as Discreet and Judicous, as a Man would desire to be. But see the effects of things of this Nature; This Patron of wit, (being a Man of discerning faculties) in heat of Wine, (at which time some People are very Witty) was pleased to tell one of his Female Conveniencies, That this little Spark of a Poet, did expect a Present for his Dedication; but he swore, he should be bawked: for, for that Reason, he would not so much as give him a Bottle of Wine, or ever drink with him again. A mighty loss, without all doubt! which puts me in mind of a Piece of Modern Burlesque. 
Like play for Nought, the Game to lose;  
Or take you This, or That; or Choose:  
Or like to One, (tho' not to blame)  
Who Limps and Haults before he's Lame.  But this I fear is Tyresome, being a little out of the Method (Kind Reader) You were used to be Treated in; but if I can, I'll make you amends some other time; upon Condition, you'll pardon me now.  
And so I humbly take my leave.   

LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between MERCURY and the SUN.  Mer. 

'tIS the command, Sir Sun of Jove,  
That for three days you do not move  
To lengthen out a night for Love.   
And let the hours that wait on you,  
Unharness all your Horses too;  
Then put your Candle out, and go  
To bed, for Jove will have it so.  Sol. 
What is't that I have done, that he  
Should thus resolve to punish me?  
That Gammer Night should bear the sway,  
And triumph o'er her Lord the Day?  Mer. 
That's not the thing, nor is't of state,  
His business is of greater weight.  Sol. 
Where is he now? done't tell me false.  Mer. 
In Boeotia with little Alce.  Sol. 
Will not one Night allay his fires,  
And cool his lecherous Desires?  Mer. 

'Tis not for that, but to complete,  
And make a Hero strong and great,  
Whom he did t'other day beget.   Sol. 
Much Joy to him, but Mercury,  
I'll tell you now 'twixt you and I,  
Such idle things were never done  
When good old Saturn wore the Crown,  
He ne'er stole out in all his life  
To occupy his Neighbour's Wife,  
But always kept to Rhea's Coney,  
And thought her fit to change his Money.  
Day was day the●● no● paltry scurvy  
Punk the World turned topsy turvy;  
For want of Exercising too  
My Horses, they will Restive grow.  
Briers and Thorns will choke the way,  
And men will languish for the day;  
And all to make some blustering fool.  Mer. 
Hold now, lest he your courage cool.  
Mean time as I was bid I'll go  
And charge the Moon to saunter too,  
That she abandon not Mankind,  
Lest they the alteration find.   

A Dialogue between Vulcan and Jupiter.  Vulcan. 
HERE is the Axe you bid me get,  
What am I now to do with it?  Jup. 
Strike hard my head, nay do not wonder,  
And cleave my aching Jaws asunder.  Vul. 
Sure yo'ave a mighty mind to see  
If I am mad, then laugh at me.  
But prithee Jupiter don't joke,  
And tell me what you mean by th'stroke.  Jup. 
You idle sot, to cleave my scull,  
And if you do refuse it, fool!  
I'll swinge you off by fatal Styx!  
Strike hard, and leave your foolish tricks.  
For my poor head beats like a Tabor,  
And aches as if I were in Labour.  Vul. 
Take heed, for faith you now command  
What I did never understand.  
You'd better get some Midwife do it,  
Lest you repent, and after rue it.  Jup. 
Strike boldly Dog, and do your best,  
And then let me alone for th' rest.  Vul. 
I'll do't 'cause you must be obeyed,  
Though it was ne'er my way of Trade.  
Have at your head! uds Death and Hell!  
What's this I see? 'tis wonderful!  
Well you might have such swinging Pains,  
While such a Wench was in your Brains.  
See how she caper's o'er the stools,  
As if she'd been at Dancing-schools.  
And how she brandishes her spear,  
She almost makes me shake with fear.  
Well you might be so cross of late,  
When such a Girl was in your Pate.  
'swounds! she's a strapper of her years,  
How brisk and handsome she appears;  
She's very tall and Blue-eyed, but  
Her Helmet makes her a pretty slut.  
Give her to me, I prithee, Jove,  
She's big enough, for I'm in Love.  Jup. 
With all my heart, I am content,  
But she will never give consent:  
For she has vowed a single Life,  
And hates the very name of Wife.  Vul. 
Let me alone, since I have got  
Your word, I'll try her on the spot.  Jup. 
Beruled by me. and quit the Place,  
She'll ne'er endure thy sooty Face.    

Numb. 2.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between NEPTUNE and MERCURY.  Nep. 
I'Despeak with Jove, Coz. Mercury:  Mer. 
He's busy, sir,  Nep. 
Tell him 'tis I  Mer. 
Pray be not now sh' importunate;  
If you would see him, you must wait.  Nep. 
Where is he now? is he with's Wife?  Mer. 
No, he's not there upon my life.  Nep. 
Is he with's Boy that he does love?  Mer. 
You're much mistaken still in Jove.  Nep. 
Where then? and what a doing, tell?  Mer. 
Why truly he's not very well.  Nep. 
Phoogh! that's a Shame, come tell me true,  Mer. 
I am ashamed to tell it you.  Nep. 
Ashamed to tell it to your kin?  Mer. 
I beg your pardon, he lies In.  Nep. 
How! was he an Hermaphrodite?  
I ne'er perceived it by this Light,  
Nor did his Belly big appear.  Mer. 
No, he had ne'er much aching there.  Nep. 

Was it where he Minerva bred?  
Who from his brain was brought to bed,  
He has a Teeming Loggerhead.   Mer. 
No, he in's thigh the child did bear:  Nep. 
How! is he fruitful ev'ry where?  Mer. 
Juno being filled with Jealousy,  
Did put a Trick on Semele,  
Persuading her, pray mind the Story,  
To lie with Jove in all his Glory,  
Who being possessed with fierce Desire,  
Straight set the Room and her on fire.  
For when (you know) he's armed with Thunder,  
He does destroy things to a wonder.  
All he could do, things were so spoiled,  
Was just the saving of the child;  
For which he in his thigh made room,  
When bloody hot it dropped from th' Womb.  
And now he's once more free again,  
But wonderfully weak with pain:  
Or as you have often heard it said,  
He's very finely brought a bed.  Nep. 
Now I could laugh until I burst,  
But pray where must the child be nursed?  Mer. 
Why I have carried him to Nysa  
To be brought up (pray mind what I say)  
The Nymphs of him great care will take,  
And use him well for's Father's sake.  Nep. 
And Jove after this mighty Do,  
Is Father to't, and Mother too?  Mer. 
Yes, yes, but I've no leisure now  
To let you any further know;  
For I must go and buy some strings,  
And other necessary Things  
To bind him up, some Hartshorn Jelly,  
Caudle and what is good for's belly;  
To nourish him, poor Mercury!  
Thou must I fear, his dry-Nurse be.  
With other things unknown to you,  
So honest Nuncle Nep. adieu.   

A Dialogue between the River Enipeus & Neptune.  Enip. 
FAith Neptune you were much to blame,  
T'assume my shape and take my name:  
T' abuse my Mistress, faith you were.  Nep. 
No, rather you were too severe,  
You were unjust unto her love,  
Since she so very kind did prove:  
Which bred in her a thousand fears,  
And overwhelmed her still in tears,  
For on your banks she every day;  
Th' Oblations of her love did pay.  Enip. 
And must you therefore cheat her thus?  Nep. 
'Twas pity made me Courteous,  
Besides I pleased the Beauteous she.  Enip. 
'Tis true because she thought 'twas me:  
But when she found out who 'twas Acted,  
She'd almost like t'have run distracted;  
Besides I'm mad that any he,  
Should Reap the Joys belong to me.  Nep. 
'Tis you're to blame, and wondrous base  
T'abuse so fine, so sweet a face;  
Therefore for th' future learn t' improve,  
The short, but Precious hours of Love.  LUCIAN.  

Printed for Charles Corlet at the Oxford Arms in Warwick lane.    

Numb. 3.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between MENIPPUS and TROPHONIUS in the Presence of AMPHILOCTUS.  Men. 
HOw comes it, since yo'ave lost your breath,  
And fallen into the hands of Death,  
That idle, silly, Country People,  
Should build to you a Church and Steeple;  
And then, as if 'twere such a Prize  
As to a God, t'you sacrifice.  Tro. 
Am (I d'ye think) Accountable  
Forth ' foolish Whimsies of the Rabble?  Men. 
Well, but the People, ne'er had done it.  
If you had not put them upon it,  
You made your ends, and interest of it,  
And told 'em all, you were a Prophet.  
And like a true Dissenter, strove  
To break th' Allegiance, sworn to Jove.  Tro. 
It does behoove, Amphiloctus,  
(Whom you see now is here with us,)  
To give an Answer unto you;  
And tell you all the Meaning too,  
For my part 'tis well known I can,  
Prove I am something more than man:  
And can foretell (like any thing,)  
And am, or would be more than King.  
No Hero e'er had such a Name,  
I was the first i'th' Rank of fame,  
And ever scorned to Crouch, or bend  
To Father, Uncle, Wife, or Friend.  
But one would think, by what you say,  
You'd ne'er been in Labadia:  
For there I ne'er could walk abroad,  
But still attended by a Crowd,  
Hollowing, and hooping as they went,  
As if they'd rend the Firmament.  
Long live Trophonius! they would cry,  
While Jove passed unregarded by;  
All this would sure have made it plain,  
That I was born a God, (Again)  
You cannot tho misdoubt, that I  
Am (now) of Heaven's Progeny  
So must believe, (though ne'er the near now)  
That I am more than Man; a Hero.  Men. 
There was no need of being there,  
One might have heard on't any any where:  
Nor of doing things that thou hast done,  
Thou foolish, base, rebellious Son,  
Dull, Canting, Idle, Loggerhead;  
To make't appear that thou art dead,  
Nor of doing what the Foolish do,  
When e'er they Sacrifice to you,  
Or to explain that thou'rt more base,  
Than any of thy Godlike race;  
Hast more Imposture, and less Wit,  
Than e'er was found in Hero yet?  
But now I do Conjure thee by  
Thy Canting, or thy Prophecy,  
To tell me what by Hero's meant,  
For I am wholly ignorant:  Tro. 
A Hero is a thing between  
A God, and Man (that ne'er was seen)  
Or rather both together joined,  
The Body, Man, the God, the Mind.  Men. 
If so, pray tell me then sweet heart,  
What is come of thy better part?  
For thou'rt of all, that's good bereft,  
And not one spark of Grace hast left.  
Else thou such things wouldst ne'er have done,  
As Elbowing Jove, from off his Throne,  
For thou didst that, which was the same,  
By robbing him, of his good name,  
And drawing People from his shrine,  
To make 'em sacrifice to thine.  Tro. 
Away with this, but you would know,  
Where my diviner part is now?  
'Tis in Boeotia, where yet,  
My old Acquaintance, worship it:  Men. 
Well I don't understand, what you,  
By all this trade can mean to do,  
But thus far, I may truly say,  
I do believe you're out o'th' way,  
And if I must, it plainly tell,  
I'm sure you are Entire in Hell.  LUCIAN.  

Readers. These Dialogues will be Published every Tuesday and Friday.   

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

Numb. 4.  
LUCIAN.  

A Dialogue between Diogenes and Pollux,  Dio. 
SInce Pollux 'tis next morn' thy right,  
To visit Earth, and view the light;  
Bid Menippus the Philosopher,  
The little brook that parts us Cross over,  
Without delay, and make hast hither,  
That we may Crack our sides together,  
For he that here, can't Laugh his fill,  
Shall ne'er laugh more, by my good will;  
Provided that he does not tell ye,  
He has already broke his belly:  
For surely there he'has cause enough,  
If he be not Pease-Porrige Proof.  
And tell him though the folk about  
The place he dwells, are much in doubt  
How People far when they are dead,  
Of which they nothing know, but Dread,  
Here's none below, but what still keep tick  
With saith; for Hell undoes a Skeptick.  
He'll wonder too, when he comes down,  
To see that men of high Renown,  
Should be no more than Every Gaffer,  
And only subjects here of Laughter:  
And hardly known, but by their bawling;  
A sort of Hellish caterwauling:  
Then bid him bring his Crusts to seed on,  
With other things that he'll have need on,  
For here is nothing to be got,  
That's fitting for the Spit or Pot:  
Nay here one may, (although in haste,)  
As soon ones Neck break, as one's fast.  Poll. 
Pray sir don't make of me a Tool,  
And send me like an April Fool,  
But tell me now before I go,  
By what mark I the Spark shall know?  Dio. 
Hast thou not seen below the Sky,  
Men that cry Silk, and Taffeta,  
With tattered Cloak on one Arm Tost,  
So Patched, th' Original is lost,  
Who find out all the strong Bub places  
And wear its livery on their faces:  
Just such a one is he, you can  
Not be mistaken in the man;  
At Corinth you will find him fooling,  
Or else at Athens Ridiculing,  
For the Philosophers he hates,  
And with his Banter breaks their Pates,  
Because they bounce, and brag they know,  
The truth of every thing below,  
And understand too, those above,  
As well as Mercury, or Jove,  
When they are not so wise by half,  
As Goatham's Mayor, or Waltham's Calf.  Poll. 
If he be such a one, no doubt  
But I shall quickly find him out;  
But have you nought for me to tell.  
The Grave Philosophers from Hell?  Dio. 
Yes, yes, I have, come let me see;  
Bid 'em leave studying Sophistry;  
Idle Disputes, and Arguments,  
Which nothing breeds but discontents;  
Bid 'em forbear the search of Nature  
And meddle each, with his own Matter,  
And speak their knowledge, at a word  
And not be Fools thus on Record:  Poll. 
And then they'll say that I'm a fool,  
And never learned my book at School,  
So call me Dunce, and swear that I  
Don't understand Philosophy.  Dio. 
Tell 'em that they must cry and bawl,  
As loud, as at a Funeral  
The Irish do, and every whit  
As true, as theirs is all Deceit.  Poll. 
Well, I'll remember what you say,  
And all your wise Commands obey.  Dio. 
As for the mighty men of worth,  
Tell 'em I bid you thus hold forth.  
Why do you give yourselves such Pain,  
About what's perishing and vain?  
What signifies your pomp and state?  
Your being Noble, Rich, or Great?  
Your vast Attendance, and Calashes?  
When you are fallen to Dust and Ashes;  
And Threadbare Vicar going first,  
Cries here's the hole, and in you must.  
And tell the Smock-faced Megibus,  
And the Wrestler Damoxenus,  
That here strong Back, nor able Thighs,  
Nor curled Hair, nor sparkling Eyes,  
Nor all the Charms adorned by Art,  
In this place signify a Fart.  Poll. 
It shall be done, and free from Passions,  
I'll do your hearty commendations.  Dio. 
Go to the Poor, whom you will see,  
Groaning beneath their misery,  
And comfort 'em, and tell 'em all,  
They must no longer howl and bawl,  
Since there's no difference when we're dead,  
Between the Poor, and Crowned head;  
For Monsieur Mors, that ancient Traveller  
Was always known, to be a Leveller,  
And tell each Spartan to his face,  
They are all degenerate and base;  
That those who used to fight with Half-staff,  
Are dwindled now into a Falstaff.  Poll. 
If you speak ill of them, good Sir,  
I will not be your Messenger;  
But all the rest I will obey,  
To a Cow's Thumb, (as one may say.)  Dio. 
Well, do in that as likes you best,  
But pray be punctual in the rest.   

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane. 1684.    

Numb. 5.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between ACHILLES and ANTILOCHUS.  Ant. 
WHat's that you said unto Ulysses?  
Sure you have here no factious Wishes,  
That you had rather be as Poor,  
As those who beg from door to Door;  
That want a Belly full of Bread,  
And han't a hole to hid their Head:  
Than o'er the shades a Ruler be,  
So much you still hate Monarchy;  
But faith and troth you don't do well  
To preach these Sentiments in Hell,  
For here are none but what obey,  
And Reverence to their Monarch Pay.  
Nor are you worthy of your Name,  
Or of the Place from whence you came,  
Who like a hardy fool did Choose  
Your life and fame, and all to lose.  

Such was your foolish Zeal, (or Spite)  
Than live and do what's Just and Right,  
Though in full Splendour and Delight.   Ach. 
All this is true, faith honest Tory,  
But then I thought that worldly Glory,  
Was th' only Summum Bonum though  
I now find that 'twas nothing so:  
No, notwithstanding Father Homer,  
Said it was so, upon his Honour;  
With other Modern Poets too,  
But I find none of them spoke true;  
Here Strength, and Handsomeness, (that rare thing)  
Don't signify one single Farthing;  
Nor can I find the Grecians (hear me)  
Do Reverence or Trojans sear me.  

Nor is here any difference neither,  
But just like Birds of the same feather,  
We're all alike and flock together.   
Therefore I could wish that I were  
To breathe a little Grecian Air,  
Tho at the hazard, (I must tell you)  
Of being but some little Fellow:  Anti. 
Come, come, leave off this murmuring trade  
The laws o'th' World must be obeyed.  
And Nature too must have her swing  
And all Obey Great Orders King:  
Besides your mighty Men are too,  
All gone, or dead, as well as you.  Achi. 
Antilochus it is in vain,  
To comfort me, I tell you plain,  
For I am filled with strange Regrets,  
Which thoughts of life in me begets.  
And you are troubled too (I see,)  
Tho you dissemble more than I:  

If she not daring to complain  
When overwhelmed with Fear and Pain.  
Bened full as foolish, and as vain,   
As th' little tricks, that Children play  
Upon a Summer's Holiday.  Anti. 
'Tis Resolution rather though  
To suffer with a serious Brow;  
Yet yours was not so I (Profess,)  
But only a Fool-hardiness.  
Nor is it wisdom to Complain,  
When by it we no good can gain;  
And it is better much, to bear  
Ones sufferings with a cheerful Air,  
So one but leave unto his Nation,  
An honest, spotless, Reputation,  
Than to become a laughing-stooll,  
By vain complaints to every fool.  LUCIAN  

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

Numb. 6.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between ZEPHYRUS and NOTUS.  No. 
THe Cow you see so briskly move,  
Friend Zephyrus, was Whore to Jove;  
Whom Mercury, his Man, is driving  
To Egypt, there to graze her Living:  Ze. 
I know't, and then she was a Maiden,  
As good as ever Leg was lay'd-on;  
But Juno's plaguy Jealousy  
Has since transformed her, as you see.  No. 
And thinkest thou Jupiter does know it?  
Sure if he did, he would not do it;  Ze. 
Yes, yes, he knows it well enough,  
And has forbidden us to puff  
Till she's arrived, and out of fear;  
Besides she is to lie Inn there;  
Her bastard too, (altho' it odd is,)  
Will be a God, and she a Goddess;  No. 
A Cow a Goddess! that's a Bull;  Ze. 
Jove can do any thing you Fool:  
O'er sailors she will govern too,  
And what she pleases we must do:  
'Tis very hard, we must not roar  
But when commanded by a Whore.  No. 
Nay then, betimes let's court the Minion,  
To get into her good Opinion:  
Our Interest says it must be done,  
And all Men court the Rising-sun.  Ze. 
See, she's arrived upon the plain,  
And is a Woman too again,  
And goes no longer now on four  
But walks like any other Whore.  No. 
This is a Miracle! for now  
She ' has nought remaining of the Cow,  
And Mercury to wait on her  
Has turned himself into a Cur.  Ze. 

Let's curb our Curiosity  
For there must in't some Mystery be,  
But Mercury better knows than we.    

A Dialogue betwixt Jupiter, Esculpaius and Hercules.  Jup. 
LEave off, i'll have no more such stirs,  
Always a quarrelling ye Curs?  
No sooner I sit down to table in  
The Parlour, but you shall to squabbling,  
Growling and snarling just like Dogs,  
One might as well go eat with Hogs;  Her. 
Why father is it fit that he,  
Damned Quack, should take the wall of me?  Escu. 
No Quack you Ruffain as you flout,  
But God of Physic, absolute:  
A thousand times your Betters too,  
You Clumsy Lubber, Bouteseau!  Her. 
Betters! you Clod-Pate undertaker,  
This must not do, you Pisspot shaker;  
Tho your dull Brains were dashed with Thunder,  
And then restored, the greater Wonder.  Escu. 
It much becomes you Scoundrel though  
To jeer me with my dying so,  
When you on Oeta, pray compare  
Were burnt alive, as Wizards are.  Her. 
Mine was a voluntary Prank  
Thou dull Quack-salving Mountebank:  
After the Monsters I had hurled  
To several Deaths, who'd plagued the World;  
Whilst thou, dull swaggering Ignoramus  
By canting on a Stage grew famous,  
And bantring in a Purple-cloak,  
So cheating honest Country-folk.  Escu. 
But when you came to us so mauled,  
Grilled, scorched, and roasted, fried, and scawld,  
I was your Doctor, (Beast,) to cure ye  
Although you cannot since endure me:  
And now I think on't (by the by,)  
I never was an Ostler, I;  
Nor was I servant to a Whore,  
To make me spin from door to Door;  
And if my task I did not do,  
Be beaten with the Distaff too,  
Nor did I (slay upon my life)  
My little Children and my Wife,  
As thou didst lately do, foul beast!  Her. 
Stop your Gally-pot-mouth you'd best,  
Or else Jove's self shall not secure ye,  
From my inveterate Rage and Fury;  
I'll make thee cut a Caper down,  
From Heaven to Earth (dull senseless Clown;  
Which shall so shake thy Adle-brains,  
That thou with all thy Art and Pains,  
To cured, shall find enough to do,  
Tho thou art good at probing too.  Jup. 
Leave off damned Dogs, or else uds boo●s!  
I'll turn ye both out of my Doors:  
The Docter's oldest, therefore pray  
You Clubster, let him have the way.   

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

Numb. 7.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between MERCURY and CHARON.  Mer. 
PRithee Tarpaulin let us see,  
How much thou art in debt to me?  
Lest we should both forget it, come,  
And let's cast up the total sum;  
For if we should mistake a Groat,  
Thou'dst fret, and never mind thy boat.  Cham 
Reckon Mercury? for my part,  
I am content with all my heart.  Mer. 
Imprimis, for thee I laid out  
To buy an Anchor for thy boat,  
Twenty five pence (in ready Dust)  
For honest Swabber I'll be just.  Cham 
So much d'ye say? (I'll vow and swear,)  
As things go now, that's very dear.  Mer. 
Why faith and troth, what e'er you think,  
It Cost so much, in ready Chink.  
Item, (let me see,) two pence more  
For that, to which, you tie the Oar.  Cham 
That's very well, to th' other score  
(Pray be exact,) set two pence more.  Mer. 
Item, A Needle I did buy,  
Which cost me, four pence halfpenny,  
To mend the sails, last storm we had;  Cham 
Add them together now my lad.  Mer. 
Item, For Pitch, and Tar, and Nails,  
And a small Rope to hoist the sails,  
Just ten pence I laid out for you,  Cham 
That's very reasonable I vow.  Mer. 
And this is all I think (dear Chroney)  
But prithee when wilt pay the Money?  Cham 
Why truly friend, (I won't harangue thee,)  
But if I have a farthing, hang me:  
Yet if the times do mend, I swear,  
And there should come a Plague, or War,  
That so I might a little juggle,  
And now and then the Custom smuggle,  
I'll pay thee every farthing (know me)  
That thou wilt say that I now own thee.  Mer. 
And i'th' mean time I must by th'Loss▪  
Sat down, with folded Arms across  
And wish that Plagues and Mischiefs may,  
Take half the wicked World away,  
Before you'll able be to pay me,  
Faith 'tis not fair, you should delay me.  Cham 
I shan't be able troth before,  
(Friend Mercury) to pay thy Score.  Mer. 
I'd rather ne'er be paid by thee,  
Than all those strange Misfortunes see;  
But this does put into my head,  
A thing relating to the dead;  
Why those die now, should differ so,  
From those folk, who died long ago;  
For than they all were brisk and strong,  
Plump, fleshy, vigorous, and young.  
And seldom with a body whole,  
But cut and slashed from feet to poll;  
With darts and spears, and many a thwack,  
Oft looked like th' man i'th' Almanac.  
Whereas they now are little things,  
Most dying of their surfeiting;  
Pale, wan, and weak, and hardly able  
To go a hi-lone, by a Table.  

Some killed by Wine, debauched with stum  
Or drinking, Supernaculum  
Others with something else, (but Mum)   
Some have been sent too, by their friends  
To bring about their private ends.  
Others have suffered by their heirs,  
While some have pined away with cares.  Cham 
I do not wonder (honest friend)  
That Interest should so many send;  
For 'tis a hard thing now to get  
Ones own, though proved, by law a debt:  
Therefore much more, to get it by  
Ones Labour, or one's Industry.  Mer. 
Wonder not than, (for well you know me)  
I spoke oth'money, that you own me.  LUCIAN.  

ADVERTISEMENT.  
There are lately Published some Modern Dialogues Entitled Lucian's Ghost done out of French, Printed for James Norris at the King's Arms without Temple-Bar.   

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

Numb. 8.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between MENIPPUS and CHIRON.  Men. 
CHiron I've often heard it told  
That thou didst wish (before thou wast old)  
Death would thy flesh and spirit sever  
Tho thou hadst leave to live for ever:  
Come prithee tell me why thou wast  
So fond of Death, and in such haste?  
That thou thyself shouldst break the Bonds  
Of Life; and fall by thy own hands,  
As if thou'dst weary been of breath,  
'Cause I see no such Charms in Death.  Chi. 
I'll tell thee, if thou wilt not teaz me,  
Something fell out, that did not please me,  
Which was the cause I would not stay.  Men. 
Were you not glad t'enjoy the Day?  Chi. 
No, I had too much discontent,  Men. 
And didst thou ne'er for it repent?  Chi. 
No, I was never yet so vain,  
And 'tis as little to complain.  
Besides 'tis dull to live, since we  
In life have no Diversity,  
For still we do, (to our great Pain)  
The same things o'er and o'er again;  
We eat and drink and to our sorrow,  
We drink and eat again to Morrow;  
To Night we sleep, and dream, and then  
Next night we do the same again,  
Thirsting, Drinking, Eating, Hunger  
So tired me I'd live no longer.  Men. 
But how did you support your Death,  
When your for it, had swopt your Breath?  Chi. 
Without a Grudge, or was I troubled,  
For here my Pleasures all are doubled?  
Here's no Ambition, no great places,  
No haughty looks, nor bold Menaces.  
No striving to be Rich, or great  
But all's Hail-fellow here, well met.  
'Tis like a Pop'lar-state, for here  
No one must huff or domineer;  
Where every Cobbler is as free  
And of as high Nobility,  
As any man dare show his face,  
Or live, in such a Governed place:  
And what care I (for my delight)  
Whether it be or day or night,  
And then we've this advantage too;  
We neither eat nor drink below,  
Nor are we Plagued with Thirst or Hunger,  
(Which than a stone Wall's counted stronger)  
Or with any other Clogs of Life,  
Or with that Cursed plague a Wife;  
Obedience unto friends, or kin,  
Or any other idle sin.  
Nor do we Covet this man's Coney,  
Or that man's house or Patrimony,  
Here we are never wanting neither  
Of shelter, from the stormy Wether,  
And let the frost be ne'er so furious,  
Unto our Poor 'tis ne'er Injurious.  
Nor do they howl, or bawl, for Bread,  
Or are the wealthy surfeited.  
But all are here alike and free  
from mortal Inconveniency.  Men. 
Chiron take heed you do not do  
What you would willingly eschew,  
And so relapse (as if decoyed)  
Into the fault you would avoid:  
For if thy life (to thee) was pain  
By doing the same things o'er again,  
Sure now thou'st 'cause to grieve since we  
In Hell, have no variety.  Chi. 
Tell me Menippus (if it Please thee)  
What I must do to make me Easie.  Men. 
Why, what was done in former Ages  
To gain Content by th' Ancient Sages,  
And to believe what can't be cured  
In life, or death, may be endured.  LUCIAN.  

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

Numb. 9  
[Tuesday Feb. 19 th'. 1684.]  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between AEACUS, PROTESILAUS, MENELAUS' and PARISH.  Aea. 
BY Pluto! I demand the Cause  
Why thou dost thus, Protesilaus?  
No sooner thou art entered Hell in,  
But strait thou Kickest and Buffets Helen;  
And fall'st upon her in such manner,  
As if thou'dst make a Devil on her.  Pro. 
Furies and Hell! pray is not she,  
The cause of all my misery?  
Such Wheed'ling things, the Baggage did do,  
That my poor Wife lived (like) a Widow;  
Besides my Family was spoiled,  
For by her means I had no Child.  Aea. 
Ud's Death! bang him who was the cause,  
That (tother Cuckold) Menelaus,  
Who to those Mischiefs led thee on,  
By which thou fairly, art undone?  Pro. 
By Heaven! that is truly said,  
Have at thy Plotting Loggerhead!  Men. 
Hold, hold: you are beside the saddle  
Or else your Coxcombs brains are addle;  
'tis not with me, but Monsieur Paris,  
(If you will do the thing that fair is,)  
You ought to Quarrel with, for he;  
Sans Right of hospitality  
Debauched my Wife, and (as you knew well,)  
Ravished away my precious Jewel.  

The Bastard like a Thief would come  
I'th' Night, when I was drunk as Drum,  
And firk the Gipsie'bout the Bum.   
My servants bribe, and for a Whimsy  
Would often hid himself i'th' Chimme,  
With Scaling Ladders, (made of Garters,)  
He'd often mount into her Quarters.  
For this he well deserves a banging,  
and (for what else I know) a hanging  
The Trojans reason have to hate him.  
The Greeks when ere they can, will beat him.  
Both sides so hate the Cursed Elf  
That now he may go hang himself  
For want of one to do the favour,  
(So save some body else, a Labour,)  
All that have lost their lives of late,  
Have reason too the Fool to hate.  
He led them on to their undoing  
And on himself and them brought Ruin.  Pro. 
Thou doubly damned to Hell! with Clods,  
I'll break thy Head, by all the God's:  
I'll strangle then away thy breath,  
For gulling Men so into Death,  
Nay, flinch not Dog, for I'll assure thee,  
Now, thou shalt feel my Rage and Fury.  Paris. 
Truly I think Protesilaus  
Your angry now without a Cause.  
For you yourself a Votary  
Are to the self same Deity:  
Besides you know we're forced to do  
What e'er he's pleased to lead us to.  Pro. 
'Tis true, that God is much to blame,  
And is th' chief Cause of all our shame.  Aea. 
He might have said though if he would  
Thou drewest upon thyself thy blood,  
Since thou must needs run pushing on,  
To purchase Honour and Renown,  

And so wast chopped to death (before)  
Thou wast well landed on the shore,  
Forgetting that thou hadst a Whore.   Pro. 
I rather should complain of Heaven,  
To leave me thus at six and seven;  
And Destiny that cursed Jade,  
That I should now be thus betrayed;  
Nay, faith and troth it was not Civil,  
To send one headlong thus to th' Devil.  Aea. 
Blame and accuse whom e'er you please,  
But let these People live at ease;  
And leave off all this foolish stuff,  
For Hell without its bad enough.  LUCIAN.  

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane, 1684.    

Numb. 10.  
LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between PLUTO and MERCURY.  
Tuesday Feb. 26 th'. 1683/4.  Pluto. 
MErc'ry dost know that Fellow there?  
Who's old, and rich, but wants an Heir,  
On whom so many people wait  
In hopes he'll leave 'em his Estate.  Mer. 
D'ye mean the Sicyonian?  Pluto. 
The very same Grey-haired old Man.  
And prithee Merc'ry do not grudge  
To be unto his Age a Crutch;  
And let him live and Guzzle on,  
Until those Fools are dead and gone;  
Who after him so often dance,  
Expecting his Inheritance.  
Do this and you'll oblige me too,  
In troth you will, I prithee do?  Mer. 
No, 'tis unjust to kill the Young,  
And let the Aged live so long.  
Besides, the like was never known,  
'Tis turning Nature upside down.  Pluto. 
Come nimble Tongue you are mista'ne,  
'Tis very just as I'll explain:  
For why should they have his Estate,  
Who by no way to him Relate;  
And 'fore his Face to gain his favour  
Desire he may live for ever?  
Make Vows in public for his Health,  
As if they valued not his Wealth:  
When privately they wish him cold,  
That they may share his Bags of Gold.  
Therefore good Merc'ry see it done,  
He ought t' outlive 'em every one:  
And though perhaps it make 'em snort all,  
Let 'em believe he is Immortal.  Mer. 

And now I think on't faith they do  
Deserve to be all Punished so,  
Because each Dog may have his due.   

But that which pleases me the most,  
Is to observe how they are tossed,  
By him from Pillar (back) to Post.   
For still 'fore them he seems a dying,  
With all his Fam'ly round him Crying;  
Tho when they're gone he's very well,  
And drinks, and eats a hearty Meal:  
And this to make 'em all redouble  
Their Assiduity and Trouble;  
That as their hopes (of Death) increases,  
They may improve their kind Caresses;  
For he much pleasure takes to tease 'em,  
And is resolved ne'er to please 'em.  
But now I am afraid at last  
They'll want the Means to break their Fast,  
By over eagerness to get  
Another's Wealth to make 'em Great.  Pluto. 
Therefore because 've been so vain,  
Let him be brisk and young again.  
To boast and brag let them have no cause,  
But make him strong again like Jolaus.  

And for their parts let me Entreat it,  
That to the Guts they may be fretted,  
To see their greedy hopes defeated.   
In Dreams let him his Wealth be sharing,  
Thinking them dead as any Herring,  
But when they waking find it not,  
Let each man cut his proper Throat.  Mer. 
But Master Pluto (I assure you)  
You ought not to instruct Mercury;  
Come let me see, (than he did wink,  
And cried) they're seven just (I think)  
I'll bring 'em all, one after tother,  
(Each Son of Whore, or honest Mother.)  Pluto. 
D'b'uy and then you'll please me too,  
But pray take heed in what you do,  
And let the old Man (free from cares)  
Outlive's Imaginary Heirs.  LUCIAN.  

Printed for Charles Corbet at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1684.    

LUCIAN.  

A DIALOGUE Between MENIPPUS and CERBERUS.  Men. 
THOU Great Triumvirate of Pates!  
And Porter of th' Infernal Gates;  
Tell me, when Socrates came down,  
What Face and Humour, wore the Clown?  
Deal frankly with me, since we are,  
(As well as Cyniques) Chronies here:  
For as you are a God, you can;  
Or bark like Dog, or talk like Man.  Cer. 
At first he sullen was, and Mute,  
Seemed very bold, and Resolute;  
And fain would pass for one that ne'er  
Was shokt by death, or shaked by fear:  
And did behave himself, as well,  
At's death, as any he, in Hell:  
But when within these shades his foot  
He'ad set, (and drawn the other to't)  
The ('fore so stout, then) trembling Spark,  
Did quake and shake, to see't so Dark.  
And when my twice-three Ears I shook,  
He looked just like one Thunderstruckk.  
But when I snarled at him, and grouled,  
And with my gaping three-mouths howled:  
Snapped at his Shins, (and's Stockings Spoilt)  
He cried (and bellowed) like a Child;  
Tormenting's self, as if he had,  
Been drunk (with Nants) or Raving Mad.  Men. 
If so, as far as I can gather,  
Than Valiant, he a Cheat was rather,  
And did not when he hither Coasted  
Despise and bear death as he boasted.  Cer. 
Yes, when he saw (I must confess)  
That on he must without redress,  
He showed some Courage, and ('tis said;)  
He did not seem to be dismayed;  
But bore it with as bold a Brow,  
As the occasion would allow;  
And looked, as if 'twas not Necessity,  
But pure Chance-medley in Adversity:  
Tho I believed 'twas partly done,  
To be admired by th' Looker's on:  
Or, to beget the Reputation,  
Of Stout, he died that surly fashion.  
The same too may be said of most,  
Who for that Cause, came to our Coast:  
They're wondrous Valiant just before,  
But when they come to th' very Door;  
The boldest Spirit of 'em fails,  
(And look like Dogs, that hang their Tails.)  Men. 
But Cerb'rus what canst say of me?  
When I came down to visit thee.  Cer. 
Thou art a Worthy brave Philosopher,  
And boldly didst the Ferry cross over,  
As Great Diogenes did before thee,  
(If there be any truth in Story).  
I'll swear for thee, thou cam'st not here  
Unwillingly, by force, or fear,  
But in a cheerful manner, Gay,  
Tickling, and Smiling all the way;  
As if you had nought else to do,  
But to be merry here below;  
While others in this place are Weeping,  
And always such a Noise are Keeping;  
One had as good be in a Mill,  
(In troth 'tis true) as live in Hell.   

A Dialogue between Jupiter, and Ganymede.  Jup. 
HOW is't, my pretty One? Come, speak,  
Now I have neither Claw, nor Beak;  
You'll Kiss me sure: you need not Fear,  
Nothing, my Love shall Hurt you here.  Gan. 
Where are they then? I'm zure that you,  
A Hugeous Eagle, was but now:  
Warrant as I did my Vathers Zheep,  
Upon our Vurzie Common keep;  
You Zwopt me up, while I lay Kicking,  
As if I'd been a Tiny Chicken.  

How could you do it, pray? Warrant now,  
You look as our Town-Zhepherds do;  
And are a Man, I vancy too.   Jup. 
I'm neither Man, nor Eagle, Love;  
But King of all the the Powers Above:  
Who so Transformed myself to be,  
More Strong and Fit, to Carry thee.  Gan. 
But tell me Grandzir, if you can,  
Who 'tis you are? Or are you Pan?  
Yet now I think more on the Matter,  
He looks as Wild, as any Zatyr.  
Horns on his Head, and Cloven Paw,  
With Hairy Feet, and Pipe of Straw;  
The only Marks, I know him by.  Jup. 
knowst thou no other Deity?  Gan. 
Not I, d'ye think I'd tell you Lies:  
But every Year we Zacrivize,  
To him a Goat, in his own Cave,  
Because he zhoued our Cattle Save;  
But you, vor all you're zuch a Ztrapper,  
I vear, are but zome zly Kidnapper;  
Who Get your Living by Decoys,  
And Money make, of Little Boys.  Jup. 
Didst thou ne'er hear, of Mighty Jove?  
Whose Temple is in Ida's Grove,  
Who Lightens Heaven at his Pleasure;  
And Thunders People so together.  Gan. 
O yes, is't you who make that Noise,  
And Vrighten Women so, and Boys:  

To whom my Father, every year,  
Does Zacrivize a Ram for Vear,  
He should make Bread, and Butter Dear.   
But why did you znatch me away?  
The Wolf, will all my Lamkins, Zlay.  Jup. 
Thou thinkest of nothing, but thy Sheep;  
thou'rt now Immortal, and must keep  
Dull Brutes no more; but Live with me,  
And ever keep God's Company.  Gan. 
But won't you zet me down again?  Jup. 
No: All my Labour's then in Vain.  Gan. 
But my poor Dad, will Nangry be,  
If he his Boy should never see;  
And Beat me 'cause I left my Zheep.  Jup. 
Fear not, I will thee always keep.  Gan. 
Don't keep me now; I pray now, don't,  
I wonot ztay now, that I won't.  
Yet, if you will but let me go;  
I'll Zacrivize a Ram to you.  Jup. 
How simple is this pretty Boy;  
Come bened dismayed, Cheer up my Joy:  
You must forget all things below,  
My Nubsie, you're in Heaven now,  
And may do good unto your Friends;  
And never think on private Ends.  
You shall no longer be a Boy,  
But have what e'er the God's Enjoy.  
Instead of Butter, Cheese, and Whey,  
Have Nectar, and Ambrasia:  
And have your Star amongst the Rest,  
And Shine as Glorious, as the Best.  Gan. 
That's mighty Brave: But Sir, if I  
Would Play, Who'll keep me Company?  
For when I was on Ida's Hill,  
I had my Playvellows at Will.  Jup. 
Cupid, my Lad, shall Play with thee,  
If thou wilt Brisk, and Cheerful be:  
For he's as Arch a Wagg, as thou;  
But mind no more the Things below.  Gan. 
I marry Sir! that's pure indeed,  
But have you any Vlocks to Veed?  

Else what shall I do here Above?   Jup. 

Thou shalt be Cupbearer to Jove,  
And fill him Nectar little Love.   Gan. 

Is that so good as Milk, and Whey?   Jup. 

Better, my Joy by far, than they;  
And thou shalt Drink it every day.   Gan. 
Where must I Lie a Nights, Sir tho?  
With Cupid, my Vine Playvellow:  Jup. 
No, no, with me; my pretty One.  Gan. 
What, are you ' uraid to lie alone?  Jup. 
'Tis better with a pretty Lad;  Gan. 
Zure you are Drunk good Sir, or Mad;  
What good can Pretty do a Bed?  
When Zleep is got into ones Head.  Jup. 
Sleep 's not so Pleasant, when Alone;  
Two is much better (Dear) than One.  Gen. 
When I lay with my Father, he  
Did always vex, and uret at me;  
Because I zuch a do did keep,  
Tumbling, and talking in my Zleep:  
And Punched him on the zides and head,  
And kicked him almost out o'th' Bed,  
That he would zend me to my Mother,  
I always kept zuch ztir and pother,  
If you took me for this Idain,  
You'll quickly zet me down again.  Jup. 

I than thy Father love thee more,  
I'll kiss and handle thee all o'er:  
Besides, I've other things in store.   Gan. 
You may do what you will, and keep  
What ztir you please, but I will Zleep.  Jup. 
We'll talk of this another day.  
Here! take him (Mercury) away,  
And see'm drink Imortality,  
That he may serve's in Quality;  
Of Cupbearer, and teach the Fool,  
To make a Leg, and give the Bowl.   

A Dialogue between Crates and Diogenes.  Cra. 
DID you know that Old Cinque and Cater,  
Who such a stir made on the Water;  
With Ships and Boats of every size,  
As if th' Sea he'd Monopolise?  
He lived at Corinth in the High House,  
His Name was (let me see) Maerichus;  

Whose Cousin was, as great a Rascal  
As ever drank of Wine a flasque all  
Believe me, or his Neighbours, ask All;   
And full as Rich, and Old as he,  
And had as much Frigidity;  
As near, and Covetous he was,  
And every whit as much an Ass:  
Repeating still that piece of Honour,  
Delivered to the World by Homer:  
Into his Ears, Do thou kill me,  
Choose which thou wilt, or I'●e Kill thee:  
'Tis pity that we both should live,  
Let him take all who must Survive;  
For you must know, they had made over  
Their whole Estates to one another;  
Consulted all the Soothsayers,  
Conjurers and Astrologers,  
To know whom Monsieur Mors his Worship  
Would give it all, by Survivorship.  
But these Damned scoundrels, one would Wheedle  
And then the other Trout, they'd tickle;  
So both of them a while were eased  
Thomas neither of 'em thoroughly pleased;  
For all those Fellows at the best,  
Are Cheats, and prate for Interest.  Dio. 
But what became on't, Prithee Crates.  Cra. 
Why I will tell thee what their fate was:  
They both together on a day,  
Dropped into th' Grave (as one may say)  
And left their Riches all to them,  
They ne'er so much as in a Dream,  
Did ever think of, or the (Wench-on)  
Conjurers did ever Mention.  Dio. 
I'm glad on't Faith, it makes me Jolly,  
And much delights me: but such Folly,  
By thou and I, was ne'er Committed;  
Or were we e'er so basely Cheated:  
(Such foolish idle things, but mean is,)  
I never wished that Antisthenes  
Would die, and leave his Oaken Plant  
To me, though I stood then in want:  
Or, didst thou ever wish for mine,  
That Tub, and Scrip, might both be thine.  Crates. 
That's true, because we were content  
With that small Stock kind Fortune sent;  
And I thought 'twas enough t' Inherit  
Thy Virtues, and thy Godlike Spirit:  
As thou hadst done, on the same Score,  
By Great Antisthenes before.  
Which Wealth is more to be desired,  
Tho not of late so much Admired;  
You ne'er saw any come to us,  
To learn how to be Virtuous;  
Whereas you see they never fail  
Pursuing Riches, Tooth and Nail;  
While others striving to be Great,  
Admiring Titles, Pomp and State;  
Will live on Pottage, Herbs and Carrot,  
So they may hurried in a Chariot,  

Attended on by tattered Pages,  
With Lantern Jaws, starved at Board-Wages,  
Which ne'er was known in former Ages.   Dio. 
It is no Wonder this to see,  
Their Souls are spoiled by Luxury:  
They're void of Honour, and so Vain,  
They cannot any good contain:  

They're like th' Bellides here in Hell,  
Whose Barrel runs out faster still,  
Than they have Power and Strength to fill:   
But should you dare to be so bold  
As Venture, but to touch their Gold,  
So much to good men they are helps,  
You might as well a Lioness Rob of Whelps.  Crates. 
Besides, this Comfort too we have,  
We carry all our Wealth to th' Grave;  
Whilst they (than us) do bring no more,  
So leave behind 'em all their Store:  
And honest Charon (if 've any)  
Does ease 'em of their last poor Penny:  
Which is thrust in their Mouths by those  
Who put 'em on their Bur'ing .   

A Dialogue between Charon, Mercury, (a Company of Dead Men,) Menippus, Charmoleus, Lampichus, Damasias, a Philosopher, and a Rhetorician.  Charon. 
COme Listen, All, to what I say,  
My Ferry-Boat's gone to Decay;  
It Leaks, is Old, and very Rotten,  
Besides, my Bench and Oars are Broken;  
Therefore sit still, and Trim it well,  
Or else, twoned Carry you to Hell:  
For here's so many come together,  
That if we should but have foul Wether,  
Their Luggage is foe very Great,  
They will my Wherry Over-set:  
Then those that cannot Swim, will be,  
In a pretty Pickle presently.  The Dead. 
What shall we do than, prithee Charon?  
For to get over Acheron?  Charon. 
I'll tell you, you must come as bare,  
As when you first breathed Grecian Air;  
And leave your Trumpery on the Shore,  
And ne'er so much as think on't more.  
And since my Boat's so very Small,  
'Tis well if then it hold ye All.  
Be it thy Charge too, Messenger,  
IT Examine every Passenger.  
That none but half-staved Fellows come,  
Expecting in my Wherry Room.  
Take Care too, and be sure you Mind 'em,  
To leave their Baggage all behind 'em;  
Then on the Ladder stand Equipt,  
And force 'em all to enter Stripped.  Mercury, 
I will Obey, and now let's see,  
Who 'tis comes first o'th' Company.  Menip. 
'Tis I, Menippus, who am come,  
To be a little Troublesome.  
Tho I have thrown into the Lake,  
My Staff, and Wallet, for the sake  
Of easy Waftage: And 'tis well,  
I brought no Gown, nor Sursingle;  
(Tho if the Naked Truth. were known,  
In all my Life, I ne'er had One.)  Mercury. 
Enter Menippus to the Sculler,  
Thou best of Men, before 'tis fuller;  
And take the Highest Place, that thou,  
From thence may'st see, what others do;  
But who is this that comes to see us?  Charmoleus. 
I am the Lovely Charmoleus,  
Who for a Kiss, took as much Money's,  
As would have Purchasted Fifty Coneys.  Mercury. 
Cast off your Beauty, and your Pride,  
Your Lips, Red-Cheeks, and Hair beside:  
And do not think to enter in  
To Hell, and sleep in a Whole Skin;  
But pull it off, and do not Venture.  
'Tis Well, so now you're fit to Enter.  
But what Grim Sir is that, when Dead,  
Dares Venture with a Crown On's Head?  Lampichus. 
I am Prince Lampichus of Gela.  Mercury. 
Why thus Loaden, prithee Fellow?  Lampichus. 
Why should a Prince come Naked too?  Mercury. 
A Prince should not; but Dead Men do.  
Therefore put off your Ornaments.  Lampichus. 
There Lie, my Rich Habiliments:  Mercury. 
And you must put off too, (beside,)  
Your Hanghty-Looks, your State, and Pride;  
For if they Enter, you shall see,  
They'll Sink the Boat immediately.  Lampichus. 
Let me but keep my Robe, and Crown:  Mercury. 
No, you must even them lay down.  Lampichus. 
There then, what more have I to do?  Mercury. 
You must put off your Fury too.  
To Wit, and Knowledge, your pretence,  
Your Cruelty, and Insolence.  Lampichus. 
See, I am Naked to the Skin,  Mercury. 
'Tis very well, Now Enter in.  
What great Fool's this? (Fat as an Ostler.)  Damasias. 
I am Damasias the Wrestler.  Mercury. 
I thought so, you I've often seen.  Damasias. 
True, therefore Naked, let me in.  Mercury. 
You are not Naked Understood,  
When Clothed with all this Flesh, and Blood:  

Therefore pray Strip; nay, you must do't,  
And Cast away your Crowns to Boot;  
For else your Weight will Sink the Boat.   Damasias, 
See, I Obey, and am Industrious,  
To make my Slender Ghost Illustrious! 
* See an Elegy on Prince Rupert.   Mercury. 
So, now come in, for thou'rt, as Fit,  
As any ever Entered yet:  
You Crato, throw away your Riches,  
You that Wore Coats, instead of Breeches;  
And bring not here your Poetry,  
Your Titles, nor your Pedigree.  
Your Statues neither, which for Money  
The City did bestow upon you:  
And speak not of your Tomb, for that  
From the Remembrance gathers weight.  Crato. 
Well I will do't, for who that lives,  
But needs must go, when th' Devil drives.  Mercury. 
Bless me! I think the man is mad,  
What carry Trophies now you're dead?  Crato. 
Who for this Honour would not strive,  
When 'twas a City's Donative.  Mercury. 
Come leave your Arms t' your living Race,  
For Hell's a very civil Place:  
What shade is that? who does behave  
Himself so well and looks so Grave?  
Who knits his brows, in such strange fashion,  
And is so filled with Contemplation;  
And wears so very long a Beard,  
(Enough to make a Horse afeared.)  Menippus. 
He is, Mercury, a Philosopher,  
Who in one hand two Eggs can toss over:  
A Juggler, Mountebank or Zainye,  
Who can be every thing to any:  
Strip him and you shall ten to one,  
Find Pretty things beneath his Gown.  Mercury. 
Come, lay aside your Gown and Dress,  
And let's behold your Nakedness.  
O Jupiter! What Ignorance,  
Intricate Notions, Arrogance,  
Vainglory, Trifles, and Contention,  
(With many more too long to mention)  
Did this proud Fellow car' about him  
(That he'll be nothing sure without 'em:)  
Pleasures and Gold too, (by the buy,)  
With Wantonness and Luxury;  
All this I know, though you'd it hid;  
Cast off your Lying too, and Pride;  
Your fond Conceit, that you are blest  
With Gifts far better than the best;  
For if you enter burdened so,  
A first Rate Ship won't carry you.  Philosopher. 

Since you will have it so, 'tis done,   Menippus. 

Pull off his Beard which is so long,  
There's no enduringed, 'tis so strong:   
And does in filth so much abound,  
I do believe it weighs a pound.  Philosopher. 
But who shall cut it Mercury?  Mercury. 
Menippus, he'll do't Cleverly:  

Here, take the Axe with which the Boat  
We mend, but have a care of's Throat;  
And Chop it off, 'twill save a Groat.   Menippus. 
Lend me the Saw: for that will do,  
And't's more Ridiculous o'th' two.  Mercury. 
No, do't with Axe now if you can:  Menippus. 
So, now you look like any man;  
Now this Damned Plaguy stink is gone:  
But shall I leave his Eyebrows on?  Mercury. 
O Yes, for those he used when he,  
Did strive to look most Piously:  
What, dost thou cry? (O foolish Man)  
Afraid of Death! Come enter than.  Menippus. 
He still hath one thing strong I see.  Mercury. 
What is't?  Menippus. 
Confounded Flattery.  Philosopher. 
Do you Menippus than lay by  
Your Boldness, Joques, and Liberty.  Mercury. 
By no means; keep them still, for they  
Being light, will help us in our way:  
And you too Pleader, pray lay by  
Your Similitudes and Oratory;  
Your Barbarisms, and other Trade,  
Which you Damned Rhetoricians made.  Rhetorician. 
'Tis done.—  Mercury. 
'Tis well, now set from shore,  
Pull up the Anchor, Ply the Oar;  
Haul in the Ladder, spread the Sail:  
Now for a brisk and nimble Gale.  
Look to the Stern there, you can tell  
Charon best how; hay! hay! for Hell.  
Why howl ye Fools? What, are ye afeared,  
Sure thou criest, 'cause thou'st lost thy Beard.  Philosopher. 
No, 'tis (though ye on me retort all)  
Because I thought the Soul Immortal.  Menippus. 
He lies, he does not weep for that;  Mercury. 
Prithee Menippus than for what?  Menippus. 
Because he can't be invited more,  
To Costly Suppers as before;  
Nor muffled up steal forth by Night,  
To please his Beastly Appetite;  
When he's not able for to do,  
What Nature calls Mankind unto;  
Yet he next Morn does Wisdom Preach,  
And Virtue does pretend to Teach:  
And takes men's Money too, to do't;  
These are the things that grieve the Sot.  Philosopher. 
Art thou not troubled, being dead?  Menippus. 
Thou art a silly Loggerhead  
To think so, when I made a Venture,  
And came myself, before I was sent for.  
But hark from Earth, I hear a Noise!  Mercury. 
'Tis a Company of Men and Boys;  
Who are met together to be Merry,  
Since Lampichus came into th' Wherry:  
The Women Maull his Wife's poor bones,  
While at his Children Boys throw Stones:  
Others in Sycyconia Praise,  
And him Diophantus gives the Bays;  
For the Oration he did bawl,  
At our Friend Crato's Funeral:  
Damasias' Mother too i'th' Fashion,  
With other Fools makes Lamentation:  
But no body Menippus cries,  
To Celebrate thy Obsequies.  Menippus. 
Not so, for when they bury me,  
You'll hear the Dog's bark Dolefully:  
The Crows shall beat their Wings, and all  
To Solemnize my Funeral.  Mercury. 
thou'rt Valiant to a Miracle;  
So, now we are arrived at Hell:  
Go all to th' Court of Justice strait,  
While I and Charon get more Fraight.  Menippus. 
Farewell Mercury, we will on;  
And see what here is to be done.  
What will become of you my Friends?  
You must b' Arraigned; besides the Fiends  
Have strange Prodigious Methods here  
To Punish; some with Wheels they Tear,  
Some they Expose in Frozen Parts,  
Where Vultures pray upon their Hearts.  
Others do Maull their flesh and bones,  
By Rolling weighty Craggy Stones;  
While others are with Serpents Lashed,  
And into boiling Caldrons dashed.  

Here all your thoughts will opened be  
That every one Accordingly,  
May have his Just reward of Misery.    

A Dialogue between Pluto and Terpsion.  Ter. 
IT is Unreasonable Pluto,  
That I should Die so Youthful (you know;)  
And that at Ninety-Odd, Thucritus  
Should still remain Alive, to Spite us.  Plu. 
You are mistan'e; 'tis very Just,  
That such base men should still die first:  
For those alone deserve to Live,  
Who Wish their Friends, and Kin ' may Thrive;  
And those do Merit well the Grave,  
Who Wish Folks Dead, their Wealth to have.  Ter. 
But is't not Just, the Old should Die,  
And leave their Gold to such as I?  Plu. 
Thou makest new Laws, when thou dost Wish,  
That those who can't Enjoy the Flesh,  
Should be no more: Besides, 'tis Vain,  
For Heaven (certainly) did Ordain,  
More Stranger Things than this should be:  
(And that from all Eternity.)  Ter. 
'Tis their Decrees that I too Blame;  
Besides, methinks it is a Shame,  
That Old Men should remain so long,  
And Death take off, the Brisk, and Young:  
As for Example (mind I pray)  
That an Old Fellow doting Grey,  
With Palsy, Pox, and Gout, at once,  
A snivelling fribbling Bag of Bones,  
Who makes no other Use of's Senses,  
Than pestering People with Pretences;  
A Walking Churchyard, Living Grave,  
A Frigid, Senseless, Testy Knave,  
Should Live, when such Young Men as I,  
Who Brisk, and Vigorous are, must Die.  

'Tis just like one who's made by Force  
A Slave, for better, and for worse,  
Where th' Grey Mare, proves the better Horse.   
Or other ways t' Express the Thing,  
Like Rivers, mounting to their Spring;  
But at the last, I think 'tis Vain,  
Since we know nothing, to Complain.  Plu. 
Why do you than so much admire,  
And what is other men's, desire?  
Why so much Love do you pretend,  
To Rich Old Men? (and call 'em Friend;)  
Wheadle them too, to call you Son,  
As if your business then were done;  
To make us Laugh at you, when they,  
Attend you to your House of Clay.  
For it is Pleasant (Troth) to us,  
To see men Brisk and Vigorous,  
Carress Old Age, and be Enamoured,  
With what's so Fulsome and Ill-favoured;  
Yet this ye only do when They're  
Or Childless, or without an Heir;  
Then you in hopes to get their Gold,  
Direct your Courtship to the Old.  
Gold! which can make the Aged Young,  
The Cripple Walk, the Feeble Strong,  
The Ugly Handsome, Swarthy Fair,  
And teach the Cunning Knave to Swear;  

May well persuade you, for I see,  
All Humane-kind so Worship me,  
That Gold's their only Deity.   
But these Old Men oft Countermine,  
And pay you off in your own Coin;  
For if it happen to their Lot,  
That many Children they have Got;  
They will pretend 'fore you t' abuse 'em,  
And Beat, and Thump, and basely Use 'em,  
That they may be by you presented,  
And your Vain hopes in part contented:  
Yet when Grim Death, on them does call,  
They'll Settle on their Children All,  
As Nature at the First designed it;  
(I wish that all the World would mind it,)  
And not make all this Factious ' Do,  
But give to every one their Due;  
While you may easily count your Gains,  
And take your Labour for your Pains.  Ter. 
And this it is spoils my Content,  
For I a World of Money spent,  
In Courting this Old Hypocrite,  
This Fumbling Limberhamed Thucrite:  
For every day he had the hick up,  
Which made me think, he strait would kick up;  
And caused me to present him double,  
That I my Rivals all might bubble;  
Which I believe (I Vow and Swear)  
Was the Cause of my coming here:  
For I in nothing could delight,  
Nor did I sleep by Day or Night.  
And though of Gloves I made a Cap well,  
I could not steal a Nap i'th' Chapel;  
At which this Cursed Dog did flout,  
When the Old Women laid me out.  Plu. 
Old Heart of Oak! Hold up thy Head  
And see 'em all as door-nail Dead.  Ter. 
I wish Chariades might die,  
Before him too, as well as I.  Plu. 
Melanthus, Phido, all shall come,  
I have already read their Doom.  Ter. 
That pleases me to th' Heart, and Liver,  
Happy Thucritus! Live for Ever.   

A Dialogue between Notus and Zephyrus.  Notus. 
D'b'uy! Friend Zephyrus, I have been,  
Where I more rarer Sights have seen,  
Than e'er I saw before, (I vow)  
Tell me dear Zeph. saw'st thou 'em too?  Zeph. 
Not I in troth, I kept my Station,  
And Labouring was in my Vocation,  
Toward the Indies I was blowing  
And only saw what there was doing.  
The Bantamer I saw, (for shapes)  
As Comely as a Jackanapes,  
(Tho some large Monkeys, I suppose,  
I've seen more handsome 'bout the Nose:)  
Some other Beasts too I saw there,  
But nothing else I vow and swear.  Notus. 
Well, well! say what you will 'tis vain,  
The like can ne'er be seen again:  
Dost know King Agenor my Lad?  Zeph. 
The beautiful Europa's Dad?  Notus. 
You are i'th' Right, 'tis she I mean  
To speak of now, (a pretty Quean)  
And you know Jove that Rampant Wooer,  
Had long since a Month's mind unto her:  
So far you're right, but what came on't,  
I'm sure you're wholly Ignorant:  
Yet I will tell thee, therefore put-on  
Grave Looks, while I the Tale unbutton:  
She being one morn' on the Sea shore  
With her Playfellows (ten or more)  
At Hide-and-seek, and Prison-bace,  
Hot-cockles, Leap-frogg, and Clapa—  
Jove came i'th' form of Milk-white-Bull,  
To Wheedle and Kidnap the Trull;  
Leaping and capering to delight her,  
And tame as any Lamb, t' invite her:  
Which she observing, (strait the Gull)  
Resolves to back, and Ride the Bull:  
So on she flings herself a-stride,  
No sooner pleased, but up and Ride;  
When strait the Bull with furious haste  
Into the Brinish Ocean dashed;  
While she with hand on's Horn did sit,  
And looked as if she'd been besh—  
The Wind blew so, she had no fence,  
Nor Veil to hid her Twenty-pences:  
With head behind she thus sat bawling,  
And on her scared Companions calling.  Zeph. 
Is this the Excellent Show (you Lout)  
Which you have made such stir about?  
Jove turned a Bull, and on his back  
To Spirit away a silly Crack.  Notus. 
You'll like it well I do not doubt,  
When you have heard the Story out;  
For strait the Winds left off their Clutter,  
The Foaming Ocean ceased to sputter;  
So gen'ral was the Quiet Dress,  
Nature's whole self seemed Motionless;  
A Thousand Cupids fluttered round,  
(To grace the show,) with Roses Crowned:  
Some cut the Air with nimble Motion,  
While others Capered on the Ocean:  
So brisk and Airy still they trod,  
There was not one of 'em wetshod:  
And what was strange, not one o'th' Host failed,  
Tho not a Boy of 'em was Frost-nailed:  
Some carried Links, (although 'twas day)  
Others sung Ballads all the way;  
As Colly-Cow, and th' Ladies fall,  
With Hey Boys up go we (and all.)  
Next came a Troop of Gods o'th' Sea,  
With Oyster-shells, Armed Capapea:  
The Nymphs too scorned to be behind,  
When such a business was i'th' Wind.  
These mixed together as they went,  
And made a motley Regiment.  
Each one upon a Fish did Ride,  
Or God, or Goddess, all a-stride;  
And 'twas a pretty sight to see,  
Each Nereid naked to the Knee:  
But that which set me all on fire,  
Was when I saw— a litter higher:  
The Tritons too did there resort,  
And played their tricks to make 'em sport:  
Neptune and Amphitrite were there,  
T' attend their Brother Jupiter,  
To give the Bride, as 'tis the Fashion  
On such Occasions, in that Nation:  
But one thing I forgot to tell,  
Venus was there too, in her Shell,  
By Tritons drawn, enough to scare one,  
Scattering of Flowers, on the Fair one:  
Briskly in faith she laid about her,  
The sight had nothing been without her  
Thus Jove Travelled with his sweet one,  
From off Phenicia to Crete on:  
When strait he changed his Beastly shapes,  
And looked a God; at which the Trapes  
To see him thus so finely ' quipt,  
Looked just as if she had been Whipped:  

Then to the private Cave Dutean,  
He lead the silly blushing Quean,  
And did— You know, you know what I mean.   
At which the Sea Gods all went home,  
The Winds too blue, the Sea did Roam;  
All that did thither then resort,  
Withdrew and left 'em to their Sport.  Zeph. 

I envy thee, (by this good Light)  
The Pleasure of this Pleasant Sight,  
Which but related gives Delight.     

ADVERTISEMENT.  
LUcian's Dialogues, done into English Burlesque, the First Part: Printed for William Bateman, next the King's Head Inn, in the Old-Change. 1684.  
FINIS.