Proteus redivivus, or, The art of wheedling or insinuation obtain'd by general conversation and extracted from the several humours, inclinations, and passions of both sexes, respecting their several ages, and suiting each profession or occupation / collected and methodized by the author of the first part of the English rogue.

Proteus redivivus, or, The art of wheedling or insinuation obtain'd by general conversation and extracted from the several humours, inclinations, and passions of both sexes, respecting their several ages, and suiting each profession or occupation / collected and methodized by the author of the first part of the English rogue.

Table of contents

Title page

THE AUTHORS EPISTLE and APOLOGY TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND N. W. Esq

PROTEUS REDIVIVUS, Or the ART of WHEEDLING OR INSINUATION.

CHAP. I. The signification of the word Wheedle.

CHAP. II. The Nature of Wheedling, and what the Practice thereof directly drives at.

CHAP. III. What Qualifications are requisite in a General Wheedle, or Dissembler.

The first Qualification of a Wheedle, a Good Genius; adorn'd with Real or Counterfeit Learning, or Languages acquired by Travel.

The second Qualification of a Wheedle, Reservation.

The third Qualification of a Wheedle; Dissimulation.

The fourth Qualification of a Wheedle, Flattery.

The Fifth Qualification of a Wheedle, Feigned Patience.

The Sixth Qualification of a Wheedle, Humility.

The Seventh Qualification of a Wheedle, Civility.

The Eight Qualification of a Wheedle, Affability.

The Ninth Qualification of a Wheedle, Plausibility.

CHAP. IV. What are the Praecognita, or things first necessary to be known, before the Student in this Art of Wheedling, enter upon the Practice of the Profession.

CHAP. V. Of the four Principal Humours or Complexions. Of the Sanguine.

Of Choler.

Of Phlegm.

Of Melancholy.

CHAP. VII. How to Wheedle or Dissemble with all sorts of Persons according to their several Humours, Ages, and Conditions.

CHAP. VIII. Some general Observations tending to a further discovery of Mens Inclinations.

CHAP. IX. Of the Passions in General, by which we come to know, and win upon men.

CHAP. X. Of the Number of the Passions.

CHAP. XI. That Passions are the seeds of Vice, from whence the Wheedle receives frequently a plentiful Harvest.

Of LOVE.

Of DESIRE.

Of HOPE.

Of AUDACITY.

Of ANGER.

Of Delight or Pleasure.

On Tunbridge-Wells.

HATRED.

Eschewing, or Shunning.

OF DESPAIR.

Of FEAR.

The Policy of the Passions briefly sum'd up.

CHAP. XII. Of Acquaintance and Conversation.

PROTEUS REDIVIVUS, OR THE SECOND PART OF THE ART of WHEEDLING. Containing a true account of several private and publick Practicers of this Mysterious Science.

CHAP. I. Of the variety of Wheedles or Insinuators.

CHAP. II. The Gentile Town-shift.

CHAP. III. The Ordinary Town shift.

CHAP. IV. Wheedles between the Town-shift, Vintner, and Drawers.

CHAP. V. Wheedles of a Town-shift in a Coffee-house, Ordinary, Theatre, Inn, on the Road, with the Watch, and his Lodgings.

CHAP. VI. The Wheedles of a Quacking Astrological Doctor.

CHAP. VII. Phanatick Wheedles of a Self-Edifying Non Conformist.

The Wheedle of the Shop-keeper.

CHAP. VIII. The Practicing APOTHECARY;

CHAP. IX. The Countrey-Attorney, Pettifogger, and other Law-Hangers-on.

CHAP. X. The Catch-Pole, or Tenter-Hook.

CHAP. XI. The Miseries in, and Wheedles of a Prison:

CHAP. XII. The Wheedles, of an handsome Hostess.

CHAP. XIII. The Master of a Ship, and his Owners.

CHAP. XIV. The Scrivener.

FINIS.

§

§

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PROTEUS REDIVIVUS: OR THE Art of Wheedling, OR INSINUATION, Obtain'd by GENERAL CONVERSATION, AND Extracted from the several Humours, Inclinations, and Passions of both Sexes, respecting their several Ages, and suiting each Profession or Occupation.

Collected and Methodized By the AUTHOR of the First Part of the ENGLISH ROGUE.

Thy Credit wary keep, 'tis quickly gone,

B'ing got by many Actions, lost by one.

LONDON, Printed by W. D. and are to be sold at the Sign of the Ship in St. Mary Axe, and by most Booksellers, 1675.

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THE AUTHORS EPISTLE and APOLOGY TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND N. W. Esq

[Page]

SIR,

IN a late Conference between you and me, (retiring our selves from the unpleasant discords of ratling Carts and Coaches, and the Confusion of City-cries, (which obstruct the Freedom of an Active Fancy) you may be pleased to remember the Complaints I then made against the misunderstanding Vulgar, in censuring so severely [Page] the Author of the English Rogue, concluding him to be the Actor too: how irrational that Opinion is, I shall leave to any indifferent Person to judge, without Suggesting this; that as it is impossible for any one man to act all those Villainies contained in that Book so if any one committed but the tith of them, certainly Justice, though Blind, would soon find him out, and lop him off as an useless, Rotten, and Pernicious Member of the Common-welath, and not let him live at home in quietness so long as I have done, without ever appearing before the face of Justice upon any account, much less as a Criminal.

I cannot say I have done well in the publication of some Books, yet I intended no ill; for my design was not to prepagate Vice, but so to detect it, that at the sight of its uggly loathsomness, men should shun it worse then the greatest Contagion.

But you may say, to detect Sin, is to teach Sin; the discovery of Vice, like the [Page] Hydra's heads, doth rather increase, then decrease the Vitious; for Vertue is seldom found to spring from over-flowing glasses, and Chastity from Bawdy Aretins lascivious Pictures: that wicked Persons, and wicked Actions, should rather be damn'd in obscurity, then by the Pen preserv'd to Eternity; that it is a Sin against Piety to give Wickedness any life of Memory; so the Villaine became lost that set fire on Diana's Temple, and Manlius was forgot in Rome that did an injury to Rome: wicked Names dishonour fair Report, and if by compulsion the Pen must glance upon them, they ought ever to be accompanied with execrations, and Devil must be their only appellation.

I cannot deny but all this is true; yet consider Brutus, and his Confederates, are not forgot in Livy; Sinon lives in Virgil, and Pandarus in Homer; there is a Layis memorable in Corinth, and a Lamia in Athens, and why should we not match those Rampant Whores with a pair of as lusty [Page] Rogues, one Spanish, and the other English; not but that other Countries have as large a stock of each, but only want recording. If Vice should lye conceal'd, how should we know good from evil; the Minister, 'tis true, Discovers, Arraigns and Condemns it, and with that severity Executes it in the Pulpit, that none can stand before him but with fear and trembling; the Law hath several punishments for offences besides down right hanging: thus, though I have not played the immediate Executioner of such Vices as I have presented to publick view, yet I have lasht some at the Carts arse, others I have Carted, and given others the opportunity, as well as my self, to pelt Villainy with the rotten Eggs of scorn and reproach, whilst every one that would, might pour on her head the Piss-pots of what ignominy they pleased.

I need not urge more arguments to prove the honesty of my Intention in Printing the Witty Extravagant, and that my principal aime was not private advantage, but the [Page] general benefit of every individual Person, and that it should not be imputed as a fault in me, if any make a bad use thereof, or wrong construction; some vainly, and falsly supposing me, not only so meer a Fool, to relate my own extravagances, but so great a Beast, nay Monster, to wrong the known Piety of my Parents.

According to the promise made in my Postscript to the first Part of the English Rogue, I purposed to have finisht that Book in a Second Part, travelling him through the gentiler parts of Europe, Topographically discribing all places of eminency, with an account of what Tricks and Rogueries he committed where ever he came; but the Cudgels were snatcht out of my hands before I had fairly laid them down, I intending to have had but one more bout at the same Weapons, and so have compleated the Rogue, but seeing the Continuator hath allready added three Parts to the former, and never (as far as I can see) will make an end of pestering the [Page] World with more Volumes, and large Editions, I diverted my intention into this Subject, The Art of Wheedling, or Insinuation, wherein, I have been at no small pains in the Method and Contexture: what I have Collected hath been out of the Choicest French and English Authours, not so much as casting an eye upon any Copy of the aforesaid Continuator, that might any ways assist me in this Composure. I would not willingly do him any prejudice, though I have been injur'd, and abused by him, and his instigating others, yet his unkindness I repay with respect, and would not be indebted to him for that Character he gave me in his second Part of the Rogue, but that I fear I should wrong his Reputation by ill wording his Encomium; wherefore I shall be silent, and refer you to his Unlucky Citizen, and Books of Knight Errantry, &c. which lowdly speak his Panagyrick; as for those Yelping Curs he [Page] he formerly kept, I shall not vouchsafe a backward look upon them, whilst they snarle undeserved Malice, and bark non-sense at my heels.

Not to tire you Sir, with a tedious Epistle, I shall only give you a short account of this present Publication, and conclude. Though in this Treatise I have endeavoured to detect the most remarkable Wheedles of several Trades and Professions, yet I have avoided all reflection on particular Persons: and as it is impossible to recount the Wheedles of all Mysteries and Occupations, so it is not requisite to meddle with some subjects, too inferiour for discourse: but you may wonder why I left out Book-selling, a Trade that's called a Mystery, and so it is, the Cabal of deep Intrigues and Stratagems: Sir, I may be very well excused, if upon no other grounds, than that I was a quondam Member of that mysterious Occupation, and that's an ill Bird (according to the old saying) that befouls its own Nest: besides, would [Page] it not be madness to run the hazard of stinging to death by approaching too near the Nests of Wasps and Hornets, when with safety a man may walk another way: I love my Brother too well to cut his throat, and then hang my self to make him amends; if any have been so inconsiderate to do it, by this time they have found but little praise, and lesser profit for their pains.

My main drift in this Discovery, is to come to the knowledge of our Selves, by the knowledge of others. That incomparable sentence, Nosce te ipsum (Proceeding from that Exchequer of all knowledge, Pithagoras) ought to be engraven on the Frontispiece of every mans, heart, evermore in a practice applicative, that it may prove the Elixir Salutis, the never failing Recipe of human Welfare: but to know a mans self is not so proper (saith Menander) as to know others; and certainly, had he lived in these Hypocritical and debauched times, necessity would have compelld him to be laboriously [Page] studious in this Art, carefully inspecting the variety of mens humours to prevent the prejudice proceeding from the practices of such men, who are generally well read in all the Subtle Arts of Circumvention. According to my ability, I have discovered some, and as these shall prove Succesful in the acceptation of the World, I shall bestow my pains in a further Collection, and shall Correct my present defects in some other Impression.

Therefore, without the knowledge of our Selves and Others, we are like Crazy Vessels, yet richly laden, which are tossed up and down in the Ocean of Ignorance so long, till we are either shatter'd in pieces against the Rocks of disorder'd desires and affections, or else boarded, and made prize by such, who live on Pyracy and Rapine, Cruzing on the Coasts of Craft and Circumvention.

The secret of Wisdom consists in this, That a man knows what he is himself, what he may do, and what he ought to do; and [Page] the Soul of Prudence lyes in this, that a Man knows what others are, what they may do, and what they are desirous to do; he that hath gain'd this knowledge, hath acquired the greatest advantages of life; and may sail, or safely ride it out at Anchor in the greatest Storm that can happen.

To study well the Knowledge of our selves, is the ready way to come to the knowledge of others; and though the Art of knowing others seems to have no other ends than to discover the Inclinations, Motions of the Soul, Virtues, and Vices, and what for advantage may be observable in others, yet doth with the same labour teach every one to find out in himself what is either good or bad, and to deduce more rational and impartial judgments thereof, than if he first considered them in his own person. We cannot by our selves come to a perfect knowledge of our Selves; for if, as in a Mirrour, the Soul attempts the beholding of her self in that Self-reflection, Self-love corrupts and poisons all the judgments she [Page] makes thereof: thus Men transported with Anger, though ever so injurious in that action, by beating or reviling, think all the Reason and Justice on their side: the Covetuous Man thinks his fordid cares the effects of Prudence and necessity; the Prodigals expences are excused by the undeserved name of generosity; The Philautist or self-admirer being rais'd by the indulgent hand of Fortune, to the top of Natures preheminence; as a petty God, directs his imagination far beyond the levell of Humility, and thinks his worst of actions best, but at last is lost in his own foolish Self-contemplation; and indeed every man commonly looks upon himself through a Magnifying Glass, so that he cannot behold his true proportion. In short, as all our Inclinations and Habits please and honour us, so all our Passions seem rational to us; that we may therefore apprehend their imperfections, it is requisite we saw them in another, that being a Glass which flatters not, le Miroir quine flatte Point.

[Page] The knowledge of a Mans self, as it principally concerns the Soul, so it neglects not the Body, and hath a careful and watchful eye for its Preservation, endeavouring to save the Viol from cracking, as well as the infused Aqua Caelestis from corrupting: Thus the perfect and sound estate of Soul and Body is maintained by the knowledge thereof, and that cheifly by the due observation of such things as may be hurtful, or helpful thereunto; this is an Art obtain'd by a very few.

As to the knowledge of others, we have been in the study of it since there were but three men in the World, yet if what we have purchased by much travel and inquiry, were put into the Ballance with what we have not attained to, I believe you will find (Sir) that the Scale of Ignorance, will out-weigh that of Knowledge. Certainly there is no Art so full of uncertainty, as for one Man to know another, and though there are several [Page] helps, as the lineaments of the Face, lines of the Hand, and Constitutions of the Body; yet these are insufficient to lead us into a perfect knowledge. We cannot deny that Vultus est Index amini; and though the eyes are the Casement of the Soul, yet they frequently prove false Glasses; though as the Turk believes every mans fate and fancy be written in his Fore-head, yet the letters are so obscure, that we cannot read them. The most probable way to get this Art, is by Conversation according to the Italian Proverb, I saw thee at Rome, I knew thee at Venice; and without this, it is impossible for any to practice the Art of Wheedling, or Insinuation, and it is pity so bad a use should be made thereof, which is not my intent in this Persent Publication; for I'le assure you my sole intent is only to discover how knavishly some Wheedle for advantage, and to teach men to be wary of hypocritcial underminding Insinuations.

[Page] For my own part I shall indeavour to be in the defensive part only, and shall make no [...]use of what Wheedles I observe in [...]hers, then to preserve my self, ever prefering an honest reputation before an ill gotten fortune, this is the sincere resolution of,

SIR,

Your faithful, and most obliged Servant, R. H.

PROTEUS REDIVIVUS, Or the ART of WHEEDLING OR INSINUATION.

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CHAP. I. The signification of the word Wheedle.

THis mysterious word Wheedle, without offence to the signification, in my opinion pleads no great antiquity, neither can it boast it self the legitimate offspring of any learned Language. I neither find it registred in the Mouldy Glossaries, nor an inhabitant in the new World of Words. Since then the English Expositors give us neither the etymology [Page] nor signification of this word, we must apply our selves to the Canting Dictionary, as the ultimum refugium of our better information; where you shall find the word, Wheedle, imports a subtil insinuation into the nature, humours and inclinations of such we converse with, working upon them so effectually, that we possess them with a belief that all our actions and services tend to their pleasure and profit, whereas it is but seemingly so, that we may wo [...]k on them our real advantage. Vid. English Rogue, The Devil's Cabinet broke open, &c. VVheedling, quasi wheeling, inde Wealings near Flushing a refuge in necessity.

CHAP. II. The Nature of Wheedling, and what the Practice thereof directly drives at.

THe art of Wheedling is a Science, wherein is taught, by conversation, a general knowledg of the Humours, Passions, and Inclinations of male and female, according to their several Ages, Sexes, Professions and Occupations, whereby the Professors of this profound Art, suiting their designs to the nature of the Person, and Profession, they take effect according to their desires and expectations. Advantage is the soul or center of [Page] this Art, regarding no other interest but its own, and subservient to none but for present or future profit; the practice hereof is extreamly beneficial to all persons, and in all places, both in City and Country.

This Art of Wheedling, which some would have called Complaisance, is in plain terms, nothing else but the Art of Insinuation, or Dissimulation, compounded of mental reservation, seeming patience and humility, (self-obliging) civility, and a more than common affability, all which club to please, and consequently to gain by conversation.

This profitable (if rightly practised) Art of Dissimulation hath something more in it than barely wealth, which perswades men to follow its dictates, or directions, for the welfare of the whole body depends, and moves upon its hinges; this admirable Art, by a secret and most powerful charm, calms the rage and greatest displeasures of the most Potent, disarms our enemies, when in the greatest fury, and wrests the sword out of that hand, that is just about sheathing it in a bloody, fleshy scabberd; this and much more it does by feigned submissions, and by pretending an untainted entire friendship, whereas, if there be not downright enmity, yet there is no other respect for the person than what is in outward appearance, to engage him either to lay aside his present anger, or perswade, and oblige him to [Page] some kindness extraordinary. VVherefore the Wheedle, as he must have a care of falling into too low a condescention, so in a special manner let him avoid all sharp contradictions, and all his negatives must little differ from his affirmatives. How could the Town-shifts live as they do, were it not for their applauding things done by the glittering Fops, though unworthy of every honest mans approbation, imitating those Greeks, of whom that ingenuous tell-troth Satyrist Juvenal gives so pleasant a relation; these men (says he) will conform themselves to all sorts of company; do you laugh, they will strive to laugh lowder; if you are pensive and sad, and prone to weep, they shall instantly deluge themselves in tears; if you complain of cold, they shiver, as in the extremity of a Tertian Ague-fit; and if you do but say the weather's very warm, they will cry out they are swelter'd with heat.

—Rides? Majore cachinno

Concutitur: flet, si lachrymas conspexit amici,

Nec doiet, igniculum Brumae si tempore poscas,

Accipit Endromidem; si dixeris, aestuo, sudat.

Juven. Sat. 4.

If you tell a lye, though never so grosly false, they shall swear to the truth of it, without a Subpaena; in the middle of your discourse they shall [Page] say; 'tis so indeed, not in the least understanding what you meant. In short, without feeling any of your passions, or understanding any of your actions, they appear more affected and concerned than your self, and never fail to compose and conform their countenances to yours. They are like a fish called a Polypus, of whom it is storied, that it hath the power of converting its colour into that which is nearest it, and most contiguous for self-preservation; these Protei of this loose age can turn themselves into any shape, so that the conversion of the form will produce any profit or advantage.

CHAP. III. What Qualifications are requisite in a General Wheedle, or Dissembler.

ANtiquity hath reason to say, that the case is the same with Sciences, as with Seeds, and Plants, which never bring forth any thing, if they meet not with a soil fit for them: it is certain, that there is not any wherein that Truth may be more evident than in this Science, which is not only a bare Art of Wheedling, or dissembling with Men, but likewise an Art or Science, wherein every one is taught the knowledge of Men, [Page] through Conversation, and by their several Temperaments, Inclinations, and Passions; for it will become barren, and of no advantage, if it meets not with a Genius, and dispositions necessary thereto. As few Men are qualified for this Art, so some Mens Professions, and others tender Consciences will not permit, nay, rather absolutely deter them from the Study and Practice thereof. There is no man so fit to make use of this damnable Science, as he that hath Shipwrack'd his Conscience in the tempestuous discovery of an Estate; whose mind must be illuminated with secret lights, and guides of some invisible Daemon, directing him through the difficult ways, and various Meanders of this Diabolical Art and Science. This black Hellish Brat must be cloth'd like an Angel of light, and when he prays, it must be to this purpose,

—Da Justum, sanctum (que) videri,

Noctem peccatis, & fraudibus objice nubem.

Let me seem just, and holy, let the night

Ore-cast my frauds, let clouds obscure their light.

Let me now dissect this Wheedle, or take him in pieces, and you shall find his principal Members are, Reservation, Dissimulation, Flattery, pretended Patience and Humility, Civility, Affability, [Page] Plausability, with other ingredients hereafter mentioned, which make up his composition.

But before I insist upon all these singly, it is requisite to inform you, that it is impossible for a Wheedle, or Town-shift to exercise any of those qualities to his advantage, unless he have a good natural Genius, which must be likewise improv'd, by Experience and Languages, though there are a great many insinuating Rascals, who successfully Wheedle only by common sence, with the help of a little reason; wherefore in the first place I shall discover what Genius a Wheedle ought to have, and how qualified by Art.

The first Qualification of a Wheedle, a Good Genius; adorn'd with Real or Counterfeit Learning, or Languages acquired by Travel.

IT is not to be call'd in question, that no man is more capable of all manner of business, than he, who having good natural parts, is indued also with a competent stock of Learning, guilt over with forreign speculation and experience.

A good Genius is able to do much of it self, but it will act wonders, when Learning, Language, and Experience are inoculated therein. Wit alone, though natural, yet if active, and acute, can apparel it self with more variable delightful colours, and suit it self with more [Page] pleasant resemblances, than the Polypus, or Chamaeleon; yet still Learning ought to be the fewel to the fire of this wit; for, if it wants the feeding, it will eat out, and consume it self.

Moreover if this good Genius be not frequently practised with men, and brush'd over with ingenious conversation, it will become so soil'd, and dustv, that little shall appear in it legible, but the Characters of Ignorance, and Rusticity.

Excellent parts without Learning, may be said to be in Ore, unwrought, untry'd, which Letters, Time and Experience fashion and refine. Such a man so qualified hath good metal in the inside, though rough, which only wants scowring, and pollishing without; and he that hath these roughet parts made smooth, and filed, out-vies all other splendors of this world, and is the greatest benefit to the Universe, and Himself.

Such a person whose natural and acquired parts contend for ptiority in excellence, scorns these his better parts should play the Bawd to any base action, or that they should Pimp for him by an ignoble Wheedle, or Insinuation for preferment: He is happy enough already in what he enjoys; and his happiness is the greater in this, that he cannot be dispossess'd of what he holds in Capite, which gives him so great a satisfaction in the contemplation of that perfection he hath brought it to by his indefatigable study and [Page] industry, that no worldly honour or advancement can raise him to an higher pitch of contentment.

It is the Pretender to Learning (having an indifferent Genius) of whom I shall discourse, which is the first qualification of our Wheedle; a Fellow, who must so well act the part of a Scholar-Mountebank, that his Art may prove other mens delusions. He must be trick'd up in all the accoutrements of Learning, having the terms of Art of most Sciences, and his mouth stuft with variety of Sentences, (like a Juglers with small Ribbonds of several colours) collected from Classical Authors, as well Poetical as Historical, which he may disgorge upon all occasions to the admiration of the Non-intelligent. And the better to perswade some, that he is a very contemplative man, and a profound Scholar, when he walks it is near some publick place, where he may be seen with a Book in his hand; if in the Church, he hath a Greek Testament, or Hebrew Bible in his Pocket, which he will not trouble himself to open, unless he observe some stander by look over him.

In Company, more learned than himself, he hath the wit to hold his tongue; for though he hath no real Learning, yet he hath so much cunning not to let the World know it, to avoid being laugh'd at for an Insignifico; thus this poor [Page] Devil fools himself most, by endeavouring to cheat others; for he conceits nothing in Learning, but the opinion, which he endeavours to purchase without it; whereas did he rightly understand himself, he might with less labour cure his ignorance, than go about to conceal it.

To the intent he may pre-possess his Auditors with a good opinion of him, he is still citing for himself, That a Candle should not be hid under a Bushel, and for his part he will be sure not to hide his own, though it be but a Snuff, or Rush-Candle.

Some good parts we will allow him to have, of whom he is over-sensible, and is no Niggard in displaying them to advantage; like a Lottery, that shows more than belongs properly to the Master, and is like it to in this, that nothing parts from it, or him, but that the Trumpet sounds, fill'd with the breath of vanity and vain-glory.

By these Artifices, viz. Terms of Art, scraps of Latine, and scrapings from ingenious Company, he hopes to gain a splendid reputation in the world; he is a great Plagiary of Tavern, and Dramatick wit, which he useth to bring in upon such and such hints; he crowds his memory with new Songs, witty Sayings, and far fercht A-la-mode words, and seldom fails of an opportunity to wind them in.

These are his accomplishments, which (with [Page] the good Armour of his face, which is Cannon proof, for he is dash'd out of any thing, sooner than countenance) he hopes will bring him into the acquaintance of a great many, and Great men too. With whomsoever he gets acquainted he Registers their Names, Lodgings, and Habitations, least he should lose the least hope of doing himself a kindness; for that end he carries a Table book in his Pocket, in which he writes every days advantageous promise made him, or whatsoever observations he made of any mans words, or actions, which may tend to the future benefit of himself, or friend, if it be possible for him to entertain a friendship for any person.

He carefully observes duely, and seasonably to perform his visits or attendance; and thus at last Preferment stumbles on him, not so much for desert, but because he is still in the way. The third branch of this first (and threefold) qualification of our Wheedle is Travel, with the profits attending.

St. Augustine calls this world a great book, (then Men are the Epitome's) and certainly none study these books so much as the Traveller. They who never stir from home, can hardly be said to have read a leaf of the greater, and are in a manner as ignorant as that Taunton woman, who having never been a mile out of the place of her Nativity, and [Page] being married to one living about twenty miles from that place, as she travel'd to her new home, still cry'd out, John, John, What do'st mean to do? carry me to the worlds end? Bringing her home with much adoe, he told her (according to the best of his knowledge) that the world was a hundred times, at least, as wide, and large as the ground they had rid over; to which she reply'd, John, If thou wer't not my Husband, chud zay, thou art a greater Lyar than the world thou talk'st on.

'Tis true, a man may read men at home, but if he go no farther, he shall never have the reputation of a man generally read, but be like that dull fellow in Pliny, who could never learn to count above five. Homer sets forth Ʋlisses, as the wisest of all the Grecians, because he had travel'd much, and had seen Multorum hominum mores, & Ʋrbes: thus Seneca saith, Imperitum est animal homo, & sine magna experientia rerum, si circumscribatur Natalis soli sui fine. Man is a raw unskilful animal, and void of experience, who is still confin'd within the narrow limits of his own Country.

As Travel furnisheth man with universal knowledge, so it acquaints him with hardship, and so adapts him to indure patiently whatever mean condition perverse fortune hath thrown upon him, till his own wit by Services, and insinuation shall [Page] redeem him from that slavery, and place him to his better satisfaction. It was an excellent saying of Seneca; Malo tibi male esse, quam molliter; I had rather thou shouldst be sick, than soft. It is reported that the Coral Tree is neither red, nor hard, till taken from its Maritine habitation; nor can man, in my opinion, make the best advantage of his knowledge, till he hath in some manner imitated the Romans, in putting out their Children to be Nursed by Lacedemonian women, till they were three years old, then they were removed to their Unckles, till seven, or ten, then they sent them to Tuscany to be instructed in Religion, and at last into Greece to study Philosophy.

Now what greater advantage can accrue to him that would live meerly by his wits, than diversity of tongues, by which he shall understand, and be understood, nay and beloved by all Nations? This advantage travel produceth, in that it doth in some manner take off that aborigenal curse the Confusion of Tongues, which is such a curse indeed, that it makes men who are of one kind, and made to be sociable, so strangely to fly one another, that as an eminent Father of the Church said, A man had rather be with his dog, than with a man whose language he understands not. Nay, this diversity of languages makes a wise man pass for a fool in a strange Country, and a fool to pass for a wise man, when he speaks that language [Page] perfectly to them who understand it but in part, or who have but some small glimmering light to lead them into the depth thereof. This makes the poor wandring Exotick thrive indifferently where e're he comes, and Monsieurs services courted for the French Tongue, though he hath neither wit not person to render him more acceptable, though ragged; this soon metamorphoseth him into the garb of the times, and by a narrow inspection you shall find it his Imprimis, and all the Items; whose fantastical cringes to Ladies are his daily study, and only devotions; and though born with the art of talking idly, yet some female French admirers love him the better for it, being by that the more suitable to their company. My own experience informs me this; for I knew a Gentlewoman of good quality, who would not admit of the caresses and courtship of her Lover in English, and could not prove succesful in his love, till he made his addresses in a foreign Dialect. Nay, such is the love and respect we bear all Trades-men what-ever, who speak any other Language than our own, or go under the notion of Out-landish, that we desert our own Countrey-men, though every way as ingenuous in any Art or Mystery, to follow them, which is the general and just complaint of thousand of Artificers in the City, and through the whole Kingdom.

[Page] VVe may farther understand the advantages of knowing and speaking more Languages than our own from the general Itch, which possesseth the better sort of people to be acquainted with them; so that now adays you cannot come into any mix'd Company, where a Pantaloon, or habit a la mode, endeavours to hide the imperfection of its Master, but that you must imagine Babel is revived; for every one endeavours to gloss his slender parts by those Languages, he hath learned by Travail, or otherwise; some snuffling out the French, others blustring out the Dutch, as if they intended to blow their Cheeks into Bag-pipes; whilst others are endeavouring to make the lofty High-Dutch to pass for Greek amongst the Ignorant. Now he that can best suit any Language that is spoke in Society, by his good proficiency therein, is sure to make a conquest of one heart at least; if withall he apply himself to his wonted flattery, by possessing the speaker (though what he delivers be imperfect in sence, for want of words, as well as in pronunciation) that he speaks the Language like a Native: This (though false applause) oftentimes so swells him, causing him to look so high that he cannot see the hand of Mr. Wheedle, who by this means, most certainly and securely picks his Pocket.

And here I cannot omit the relation, how one was soundly basted for his arrogance and ignorance [Page] upon the like account; This Gentleman was a Grammar Frenchman, who was flatter'd by his Wheedling Master, that he had made a wonderful, and more than common proficiency in the French Tongue, for so short a time; this unmerĭted praise did not only melt the Money in Monsieur English his Pocket, but likewise prompted, and emboldned him to engage with all French Discourses he hapned to meet with, glorying in that courtly embellishment; it hapned unfortunately that he fell into some Company, where was a Gentleman born in France, who could speak little or no English, but speaking all together his Mother tongue, he was applauded by this talkative Fop (not knowing justly what Countryman he was) in these words, Monsieur ma foy vous parlez Francois comme un Naturel: which is, you speak French like a Natural: intending to say, you speak French like a Native of France; Monsieur at first, and second time took little notice of it, but the other persisting in that abusive Encomium, in a very great passion, call'd him Bougre, Jean Foutre, and I know not what beside, and not satisfied with that he did so beat and kick him, that he could neither speak French or English for half an hour after.

The French have a significant Proverb to this purpose, Parlez bien, ou parlez rien, speak well, or dont speak at all; which is somewhat like the [Page] Irish, Aber began, aber ghemah; Speak a little, and speak it well; this caution our Wheedle ought to take special notice of; for if he do not, instead of advancing his reputation, he may either lessen or destroy it. Wherefore if he speak to the judicious, let him speak nothing but what is proper, and if prest in a discourse beyond his ability, there are twenty slights by which he may shift his neck out of the collar, by his humble submission, acknowledging his insufficiency to proceed farther; and by this yielding a conquest to others, he may probably gain an absolute victory over their hearts, or at least he shall have the title of a modest man conferr'd upon him.

Though the Italian and Spanish are elegant Languages, and very useful in the building up a structure of Knowledge, yet the French is more generally entertained by our Gentry, who had need to have good lungs; for a long sentence seems by the pronunciation to be but one word: it is my opinion, by a long converse among them one might understand them by the gestures of their body, and motion of their fingers, as well as by their tongue, they abound so much in both whilst they are discoursing; but as for the gentile shrug, (as they call it) it may be mistaken by the Scotch for a lousie remove.

To conclude, besides the aforesaid profits [Page] which attend a Traveller, it makes most affairs succesful he takes in hand; it enricheth him with a world of experimental knowledg; it makes him an hardy and knowing Souldier; it enables him to be a spye in all companies; for by pretending ignorance in the Language they speak, and mingling with them, he finds out their designs, and can cross or cherish them as he thinks it may tend to his advantage.

Lastly, it makes him welcome to all men, sought after by his betters, and listned to with admiration by his inferiors, especially if he have the glib faculty of sliding over his relations and reports, and thus whilst he lugs them by the ears, he hath full hold of their hearts, which by prudence he may form to the assistance of his necessity, or most important affairs.

The second Qualification of a Wheedle, Reservation.

THE Pilot that steers him steddy in the turbulent Sea of worldly business, and with safety too, amidst the most subtil practices and contrivances of men, is his reservation, concealing himself from the knowledg of others, whilst he is most busily employed in the knowledg of other mens affairs. He is like a cunning Gamester, who whilst he prudently conceals his own Game, [Page] he hath an eye of his own prying into his adversaries hand, or another employed to that purpose, by a stander by, his Confident. Shewing of Cards before they come to be plaid, occasions not only loss to him that so imprudently doth it, but also to those whose interest is twisted and engaged with his; by keeping close his hand, as at Put, he makes you believe his Game is better than it is; for without boldness you will seldom win at that sport, putting boldly many times at a (careless) six, or seven, when the adversary, by that confidence, believes it a Duce, or Tray, and not daring to see it, is a loser thereby: thus his good clothes are his Coatcards, which he will give you a glimpse of, that you may suspect his hand is better furnished than it is, but fearing the loss of his designed success will permit you to inspect no farther.

He holds this as an undeniable maxim, that no wise man will put confidence in him, who at any rate will discover himself, and fearing from hence, that he may be left to himself, void of advice in the necessity of his affairs, he will keep his mouth close shut, though he hazard a drowning within, for want of opening the fludgate of his body to give some vent to that ocean of liquor he drank, for the glibber carrying on some notable design. If he discourse any thing, it shall be about matters indifferent; and if he pretend [Page] to tell you a secret, engaging you to silence, it is only to try your trust, for it is so well contrived, he matters not what man hears it.

I have often been ready to laugh out-right when I have seen him affronted or abused with expressions more than civil: in bridling of his Cholerick just resentment; Oh how he hath chew'd upon the bit; flesh and blood would not swallow those words; those bitter Pills the stomach rifes against; yet prudence made him do it, though he prick'd his chops, like the Asse eating thistles: reason told him he could not do amiss in hiding the resentment of such affronts and offences; because it gave him not only the better means of revenge, if the matter deserved it, but also to prevent a further provocation, lest he who hath offended him, should bury him in greater mischiefs, thereby to disenable him for ever from prosecuting a revenge. Not but that he knows there are some occasions wherein silence would be suspected; for where a great offence is committed, and the person suffering is silent, any rational man will look upon him either as a sensless lump of stupidity, or that his anger is only stop'd for the present, that it may break out with greater violence in the execution of its vengance: wherefore he will sometimes express his displeasure, but in such a manner, that the lightness of the complaint may [Page] make him believe, that for the future, the remembrance of it shall be obliterated, and no revenge shall ensue hereafter.

VVhatever he hears material, he treasures up in his breast, and is hardly induced to make any one the Secretary of his intelligence: He never communicates any thing of that stock, but when he sees a palpable advantage will accrue thereby; for if he discover any thing said, or is to be done to the injury or great prejudice of his supposed Friend, he does it only to insinuate himself into Credit and Confidence, and when the report is found true, if he be a grateful man, he cannot go without reward.

Sometimes he finds it necessary to separate two, by forging Lyes one against the other, so subtilly contrived, that by circumstances they shall believe them real truths: This he does by pretending a real Friendship to both, and no prejudice to either, till he hath made the wounds of their Friendship incurable, and then is his time to step in, and supply the place of him he lately dispossest.

More shall be said hereafter, in what particular cases this reserved humour stands him most in stead; and therefore I shall pass to the next Member, which is Dissimulation, none of the least requisite Qualifications of a Wheedle.

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The third Qualification of a Wheedle; Dissimulation.

HE thinks there is as absolute a necessity of dissembling his words, as saying his prayers, and is never better pleas'd with them, than when they look like Janus, with two Faces, or like the Devils Oracles, with a double construction: And thus he will protest how entirely he loves you, when he hates you mortally; much like a Neopolitan, who will imbrace you with one arm, and with the other hand stab you to the heart. Should he be really a servant to as many as he seems to be, when he crys Your Humble Servant, he would have as many Masters as London's Conflagration consumed Houses. To all these he vows an absolute Command, but they must be possest of more Rhetorick than ever Quintillian was Master of, if they can entreat him to do any thing but what shall tend to his own advantage; if you had followed him as close at the heels as I have done, you would not forbear smiling to observe how many he hath beguiled with his kind proffers, who had not the discretion to distinguish between a general promise, and that which is particular; for all his proffers, as they are universal, so he looks not upon them as binding: For example, he [Page] protests solemnly he will do any thing for you; but come to the push, he will do nothing but what future profit shall perswade him to; ask to borrow money of him, he tells you he was obliged by his VVife, before Marriage, to the contrary; desire him to be bound with you, the Scrivener shall have an Item from him not to take him as Security sufficient; if arrested, entreat him by Note to be your Bail, and ten to one he will send you word himself, that he is not within. Never mind his promises; for, as Mr. Earle saith in his Characters, he accounts them but a kind of unmannerly words, and in the expectation of your manners not to exact them, if you do, he wonders at your ill breeding, that you cannot distinguish between what is spoken, and what is meant.

He may be fitly compared to the civil Ghosts Aeneas met with in his descent to Hell, that were Friends to talk with, and Men to look on, but grasping them he found them Air which glided through his Fist. One great part of his time he imploys in the study of pleasing expressions, and fine phrases, of which he is no Niggard, but keeps open house with them for all Comers and Goers; if any one is taken with them, and so mistakes the Broacher of them for a Friend, instead of Juno he grasps an empty Cloud, for these are the baits he catches Gudgeons with, and the [Page] gaudy Artificial Flies the unwary rash Trout is betray'd by to its destruction. If he get any one by the Ear, his breath is so infectious, that it is ten to one he Fly-blows it, and Maggots his understanding; and from the corrupting of his manners, he works him into what form he pleases, and frames him as he list; and when he hath effected his designs to the utmost, all the Fop-Gallant can say, is, that he was cheated in a very fair obliging manner, and abused with the greatest respect.

Take a view of him as he walks in the streets, and you shall observe his company, if it be not good, yet it shall be gaudy; and who can distinguish men by their out-sides? external appearances frequently deceive our imaginations, and hood-wink our understandings; goodness of Apparel frequently belyes the greatness of an Estate, in telling the VVorld, that the Globes of the Door-posts being guilt without, the house contains nothing but Gold within.

Sometimes this Wheedling Rascal will insinuate himself into Society that is really Virtuous, and Noble, and then his greatest ambition is to be seen, and useth an hundred stratagems to be publickly taken notice of in that company; for this he knows must pass for a Rule infallible, that men shall go under the same account, and character of the company they consort with: Pares cum paribus [Page] facilimè congregantur; like to like, quoth the Devil to the Colliar; and therefore our Wheedling Polititian will never appear abroad, if he can help it, accompanied with persons, whose habits do, or actions have rendred them scandalous, or villanous, fearing lest the censure of the people should justly fall on him for such Association. Mistake me not, he never desired to be good, but he would not seem bad, and for no other reason, than that he finds it a prejudice to business; and therefore he is a constant Hearer, and goes to Church, not for any love he bears to it, but for fear of censuring-Neighbours. Oaths he hates, because they are unprofitable; and when he hears them belcht through a profane sulphurous mouth, he flies from them faster, than Satan at the Name of Jesus.

Lyes he looks not on as half so sinful, and sometimes questions whether they are a sin or not, when a round sum hath been the Product of their falsity; yet he hates to tell a Lye so, that every one may take notice of it: He lays his Lyes close, and hath always some pretence in readiness to justifie them; if he fears he shall be detected, he plays the Hocus, and like a Jugler with his Ball, crys Praesto, be gone; then by a quick conveyance tells you he hath none of it, but such a one hath it, and so shifts off the infamy to another. By these means, and a thousand [Page] other Wheedling tricks, (too many to insert in this Chapter) doth this crafty Dissembler endeavour to palliate his own faults, and by a seeming Sanctity obtain the good Opinion of the people, that he may cheat them more infallibly, and with less suspition.

[...].

Seipsum nullus fatetur esse malum.

There is another sort of Wheedle, (of whom I shall treat of in his due place) but he is a Fellow than is debaucht in the highest degree, and yet he too would fain have some excuse for his sins and trespasses, though profanely; for if any one tax him with Venery, and condemn him for making his body a Burnt-offering to his inflamed Lust, he will seek to justifie, and acquit himself with this Plea, and to seem wittily wicked, asks you, What did David ail when he complained of his bones, and his sore ran down in the nigh? If that won't stop the mouths of his Accusers, but they still reproach him for a common Placket-hunter, whom Plague, nor Pox, no nor the dreadful sight of his late Fluxing Chirurgeon can stop in the carier of his Lust and VVhoring, he then pleads, that though Solomon was the wisest of men, yet was he over-rul'd by VVomen, and so addicted to their Society, and delighted [Page] in variety, that the House wherein he kept them for his own use, exceeded in greatness the Grand Seraglio, as much as London doth St. Albans: if he build Sconces, and run every where on score; then he pleads that S. Paul pawn'd his Cloak. This is he that is like a Tumbler, and dares show tricks of activity upon the very brink and Precipice of Hell, and play at hide and seek with the Devil, till at last he catches him in his Clutches, as the Cat does her wanton prey, and so spoils his sport on a sudden, when possest with the greatest security.

The fourth Qualification of a Wheedle, Flattery.

THe next thing we shall inspect is the Flattery of this Philautist, or Wheedle, whereby he captivates Fools, neither can the wisest at all times escape him; for he is the Picture of a Friend, and by that means is mistaken for what he is not; and as it is commonly observed, that Pictures usually flatter, so he ever shews fairer than the substance; and although there be a vast disproportion between him and a true Friend, yet in all outward appearances of Friendship he is more pleasing, because he seems to love for no other end than advantage; whereas a true Friend, unbyassed by interest, will take the liberty [Page] to tell his Friend what faults are observeable in him, whereas he dare not do it for fear of offence, and so will not loose his hold, for fear of losing his design.

And that he may not have his labour for his pains, by undertaking any fruitless work, he will never yoke himself with one whom Fortune hath rendred incapable of losing any thing worth the taking notice of; his aim is at such who stand aloft, or such whose plentiful condition tempt his pains to deceive them. Such men are his Books, which he continually studies; he plumbs their understanding, then gets a perfect knowledge of their humours, inclinations, passions, &c. having learn'd them so well, that he knows them better than themselves: by this door, by this breach he hath made in their affections, he enters upon their Souls, of which he is able at last to take the very mark, or impression, and fashion his own by it, like a false Key to open all your choicest secrets. Having thus riggled himself into a familiar acquaintance with your inward Faculties, he then makes his affections jump even with yours; nay, he will be so perfectly skill'd in all those he intends to bubble, that he will be before-hand with them with their thoughts, and be able, in a manner, to suggest them to themselves. He never commends any thing to you, but what he knows you [Page] like; and what you like, if not considerable, he will strain his Credit to purchase to make you a Present thereof for his future benefit: A piece of policy I used when I was a Child, to borrow pence of my Brothers to buy my Parents Fairings, or New-years Gifts, whereby my Pennies multiplied into Shillings. This, as a Juvenile practice to Relations, is not excusable only, but allowable; but where Gifts are otherwise bestow'd, as snares to intrap the Receiver, which he takes as men do Vomits or Pills, which undoubtedly will work with him, to the purgation and clearing his Pocket of a sum ten times the value, it is not. Martiall complains ingeniously of such fordid actions to Gargilianus, Epig. lib. 1.

Sordidius nihil est, nihil est te spurcius ano,

Qui potes insidias dona vocare tuas.

Sic avidis fallax indulget Pifcibus hamus;

Callida sic stultat decipit efca feras.

There's nought more vile than thee, no baser shift,

VVho cal'st thy snares by the false name of gift.

So the false Hook for greedy Fish doth wait,

And foolish Beasts caught by another bait.

He will borrow money of you to try how good his credit is, and he will be sure to pay it [Page] according to his time, that thereby he may have the opportunity of borrowing a larget sum he ne're intends to pay; and he knows afterwards how to keep out of the danger of an Arrest, by changing Lodgings, as often as VVhores change Names, and Lovers.

To conclude with the Flattery of our Wheedle-Master-General; as he takes an Inventory of your humours, inclinations, and passions, so he hath a Catalogue of your Friends and Foes strangely Registred in his Memory, not easie to be eradicated. To your Friends he speaks nothing but Panegyricks in your behalf, knowing they will tell you how much beholding you are to him for his good Opinion; to your Enemies all his discourse is nothing but aspersions, and reproaches, and whatsoever he gathers from them, tending to your disrepute and detriment, he hastily runs to inform you, with all the aggravating circumstances the Devil can invent: in requital of this kindness you cannot but esteem him your Friend, especially when you hear him say, I protest I speak not this out of any prejudice I have entertain'd against such and such, but only that I hate to hear my Friend abus'd, and I not tell him of it.

He hath one pretty knack in making a man believe himself to be a very wise man, and of a deep judgment, by framing or forging a secret, [Page] which with a strict injunction to silence, he whispers in his ear, and then beseecheth his advice and counsel, and whatsoever he says, is perswaded. To what he speaks, he listens with as much attention, as a Malefactor receiving Sentence; and if he object any thing, it shall be some trifle on purpose to be confuted, and then with a small elevated cast of the eye, he swears, I never thought of that, which is as good counsel as the whole World can afford; and then with a smiling hug, and a thousand thanks, he vows he will follow it to an hairs breadth; and taking his leave, he never thinks of it afterward, unless askt the question.

If he happen to be in the company of VVitpretenders, where he espies a fit thing to be made a Friend, and a Fool of, he narrowly watcheth every word which drops from his mouth; and if casually any ingenious Froth should hang at the corner of his Jaw, he bids the whole Company to take notice of it, whilst he is ready to burst with an over-flowing strained laughter; and left the others treacherous memory should not treasure up this Golden (worthless) saying, he remembers it for him to all Companies, and will laugh longer again than any can laugh with him: Rides? Majore cachinno consutitur. Juven. This causless laughter puts one in mind of Carisophus the Parasite [Page] to Dionysius, who standing at a great distance, and seeing his Master laugh with some of his Friends, he fell also into so loud a fit of laughter, that Dionysius askt him why he laught; Because (said he) seeing you laugh, I imagin'd you spake something deserving laughter.

Clisophus, another Parasite to Philip of Macedon, pretended himself lame, because the King had broke his Leg, and being about to be set, made the same gtimaces, or scurvy faces, the pain extorted from King Philip: Suitable to what is storied in our own Country, that because Richard the Third held his Head aside, the Courtiers (he being their President) made it a Fashion. Thus Martial doth describe a Flatterer, Epig. lib. 12.

Mentiris? credo: recitas mala carmina? laudo.

Cantas? canto: bibis Pontiliane? bibo.

Pedis? dissimulo; gemma vis ludere? vincor.

Res una est sine me quam facis, & taceo.

Nil tamen omnino praestat mihi mortuus, inquit,

Accipiam bene te nil volo, sed morere.

Lye? I believe. Thy verses bad? I praise.

Do'st sing or drink? My voice and Boul I raise.

Do'st fart? I'm deaf. Do'st play? th'ast conquer'd me.

What e're thou dost, is all alike to me.

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But, says Pontilian, don't me death deny:

I'le except nothing, but I'm loth to dye.

This Flatterer will not adventure to childe you for your Vices, but (which is strange) for your Virtues; as, you are too good, too just, too pious, or too temperate; Religion is not so severe to exact such Penance from you; there is more liberty given you, than you take, &c. His aim in this is to chide you out of your Virtues, which he hath nothing to do with, it is your Vice he makes use of, and wherein you may best use him; for he is never more active than in the worst diligences. Lastly, having dispossest you of your self, you are his, or any mans that will give him a hire to betray you. This Fellow is the Devils Principal Secretary of State, who for his own Advantage, and the Ruin of others, can like the Cameleon, turn himself into all colours but Red and White, the Emblems of Shamefac'dness and Innocency. Thus Alciat in Adulatores, Emb. 53.

Semper hiat, semper tenuem, qua vescitur; auram

Reci procat Chamaeleon:

Et mutat faciem, varios sumetque colores,

Praeter rubrum, vel candidum,

Sic & Adulator populari vescitur aura,

Hiansque cuncta devorat:

Et solum mores imitatur Principis atros,

Albi & pudici nescius.

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Chamaeleons always fed with Air that's thin,

Gaping for more, it turns that back agen.

It changeth shape, nay changeth colour too,

But with the Red and White hath naught to do:

Thus Adulators fed by vulgar breath,

Gape, and devour still, till devour'd by Death.

Great mens black sins they Ape with healths expence,

And lives, and dies, not knowing Innocence.

The Fifth Qualification of a Wheedle, Feigned Patience.

A Pretended Patience is none of the least advantagious Qualifications appertaining to our Wheedle; who if he will be excellent in his Art, must endeavour to bridle his passion upon all accounts: Let him often con that saying of Bion; Magnum malum esse, non posse serre malum, that it is a great evil not to be able to endure an evil.

This Patience is imploy'd two ways, in speaking, and doing; in speaking, when by reproachful provoking expressions choler prompts a man to return an answer suitable; but that is imprudence, according to Euripides, [...], &c. Altero duorum colloquentium indignante, is, quiuse non opponit, plus sapit. He is the wisest man that [Page] shuns opposition, and controversie; but if he cannot so avoid it, but that he must be ingaged therein, let him discourse as unconcern'd as he may, lest his rash heat may make him lose the opportunity by losing him he did intend to make his Friend: But above all, let him have a care of opposing him in whose power it lyes to do him an injury, but rather suffer all, and not contravert any thing, though it may seem never so contradictory to Sense and Reason. Thus was Lucius Metellus (as you may read in Tacitus) his Wisdom by his Patience seen; when sitting in Senate, and unworthily reviled by a Great Man, he only answer'd, Potentia tua, non patientia mea est accusanda; thy Power, and not my Patience is to be condemned.

Patience may be most advantagiously used, by supporting and dissembling of injuries: There is nothing betrays a man to more folly, than babbling passion, by which men are frequently displaced, and thrown out of very considerable imployments, who when the heat is over, are ready to hang themselves for being so rash and inconsiderate. 'Tis true, the venting of a Splenitick Humour, highly obliges the Fancy for the present, but it is the Cut-throat of all future designs. That Courtier doubtlesly had never continued so long in favour of the Court, had he not bridled his passion; who being askt by a [Page] Noble-man what means he used to keep himself thus firm, for so many years, in Courtly esteem, answered, It was by a patient supporting injuries, and returning thanks in lieu of revenge, where he saw he could not effect it to any advantage: And to avenge a mans self unprofitably, (though it be sweet) is in my Opinion as great a madness, as for an injur'd revengeful Italian to drink up a Pint of the rankest Poyson, so that his Enemy will drink but half the quantity.

Now as our Wheedle must patiently endure all the affronts and contumelies that are thrown upon him by them, from whom he hopes for gain, abandoning his own humour, and giving the full swing to theirs, how ridiculous soever, if not hurtful; so he must exercise his Patience, by being diligent in the management of his affairs, and not to be dismay'd, or desist if he meet with obstacles and repulses, not resting himself on one single event, but with perseverance, and against all opposition, must still carry on his design; but with this caution, that he precipitate nothing, but always wait upon occasion. Of this I shall speak more at large in that Chapter, wherein I shall declare how a Serving-man, or any other Servant, exerciseth the Art of Wheedling for Self-interest.

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The Sixth Qualification of a Wheedle, Humility.

IF you will but consider, how ambitious man is, and how much he covets honour, and respect, you will then conclude Humility to be an excellent Trap or Gin to catch such Wood-cocks, who having nothing splendid in themselves, seek, nay dearly purchase sometimes these outward appearances, and submissions from others, to force or extort an Estimation from the people; and never do these Fops more betray how conscious they are of the poorness of their own Merit, than when they liberally reward their cringing Admirers. Humility, as it is the lowest step to the highest Stair-case, so it is always the dirtiest, and yet it is the first step to the top: he that will safely mount, and that securely too, to the summity of Honour, ought gradually to ascend, beginning with the lowest step, Humility, if otherwise, by precipitating, he may endanger the breaking of his Neck.

The wary Wheedle knows this very well, and will not omit any opportunity, wherein he may make use of so gainful, though seeming poor and ragged companion: & though he entertain within never so great a Pride; and Ambition, yet it is prejudicial to show it, and therefore he conceals [Page] that Vice with a pretended Humility, which he makes appear in his outward Behaviour five several ways; in his Apparel, Countenance, Gestures, Words, and Actions.

First, his garb he suits according to the people he is concern'd withal; If this Proteus hath any business with sober Citizens, he endeavors to Cloath himself civilly, not Phantastically A la mode, whose Breeches prevent the question, What, would you have your Arse hung with Points? Yet his Cloaths are not so absolutely out of Fashion, but that they have some Affinity and Relation to what is in present Vogue and Estimation, at least they stand Neuter, or equally concern'd with the present and precedent fashion.

If his business lie among the Saints, (as they call themselves, those perverse and obstinate Dissenters from the Church of England) he then attires himself as contrary to the Mode, as he can find presidents among them, and cares not how ridiculous his garments appear in the Eyes of the Wicked, so that thereby he may Cheat and Cozen the Godly.

As for his Countenance, he frames that according to the Nature of the People he is to converse withal that day; if with Merchants, or wealthy Tradesmen, he takes a modest liberty to be chearful, with a moderate laughter, not [Page] loud, not flouting, and if he fears he hath exceeded his bounds therein, he soon recalls himself by a modest regard, and reconciles himself to himself, and the Company by what obsequious and respectful Ceremonies he can think of, proper to the present occasion.

If he be in a Phanatical Society, he takes special cognizance of their countenances, and frames his as like them as he can, which is a hard matter for him to do, (by reason of the Variety) without a great deal of Practice. As first for his Eyes, they must for a while be fixt, and stand still, as the Sun in Joshua's time, and then on a sudden, lest any should say, black is his eye, there is nothing to be seen but the whites; for his sight is gone, into the Labyrinth of his Brain; in search of his Soul, to ask the Question, whether she is ready for her Journey to Heaven. Next he imitates the pulling down of the neather Jaw to make his face look long and lean, the certain indicium of the Mortification of the flesh; the next is the contraction of his Lips, the gathering up of his Chin, the thrusting out of his Head, and the sour Faces he makes, would make one believe, that he is about to make a Close-stool of his Breeches, and being very Costive, he strains hard, but cannot do it without the help of a skilful Midwife, a known Professor.

[Page] In the third place we must consider his words, which are very pleasant, and always like blancht Almonds set in white Sugar; when he hath tickled your Ears so long as his Invention will hold out, or the occasion permit, he then will give others leave to speak, and will hearken with profound Reverence and Attention, applauding every thing that is spoken, not daring to interrupt with the least contradiction, and at the end of the Discourse, concludes he never heard more Reason till then uttered, in so short a time; that each syllable contain'd a whole world of deep wisdom and understanding; and then a little after, takes him aside whom he hath thus applauded, and by some plausible pretence, borrows an Angel of him to be his Guardian to his Habitation. Sometimes as his necessity compels him, he steps into a Meeting-house, and there takes his Cue to hold forth a while, and being out of breath, he concludes his Nonsence with the Persecution of the Saints; and by laying open their grievances, he tacitly hints at his own Poverty, and exhorts them to Brotherly love and Compassion, and is then recompenced for his vain Babble by a plain Contribution: but more of this in its proper Chapter of the Nonconforming Teacher.

Lastly, let us take a view of his Humility in his Actions, and that in a three-fold manner; [Page] first, to Superiors let there be all Reverence and respect shown, that thereby he may give them to understand how well he knows his Duty, and how much he admires, and honours their Dignity and Persons, by this means he invades their Affections, and by the perseverance of this respectful Deportment, he in time so overcomes, or conquers their former Indifferency to do him good, that now they zealously study how to promote his Interest.

Secondly, where any thing is to be gotten, he will descend below his Equals, filling their Bladder with the wind of vain Applauses, knowing when to prick and let it out again when he pleases. This condescention gains him very great Estimation amongst the Sober and Judicious, who look upon him to be a very humble man indeed that will submit to his Equals; but especially in the third place, when they see he does it even to those who are Beneath him, and are his Inferiors; this gains him credit, whether a Tradesman or not; for every one Believes as he is no proud Man, he cannot easily be a profuse Man, and he that hath so much discretion in his humble Carriage, hath so much judgment to manage his business and expence with Prudence and Moderation, by which means the fear of what mony is lent, or goods intrusted, will not be mis-imployed, but [Page] having made proper and good use thereof, the Creditor will in due time be repay'd satisfactorily, and with gratitude.

Before I conclude this Chapter, it is requisite I tell you how cautious our Wheedle is in the practice of his Humility; for he carefully observes a Mediocrity, not debasing himself too low, lest it should render him Despicable, but restraining his Humility within the bounds of Courtesie, and decent Affability; by his gentile Salutations and civil carriage, he obliges all, either Superior, Equal, or Inferior, imitating Caesar, who wone the Peoples hearts by Caressing, and flattering even the vilest that were among them; and if we will but look home, we shall find several of our Nobles and Gentry have risen to a vast height of popularity, by being not indebted to the Commonalty for Civility, but rather making them their Debtors, by giving them such Presidents of an Humble, Sweet, and generous Deportment, that it was impossible for them to imitate; but I must desist from further enlarging this Chapter, having unawares fallen into the Seventh Qualification of a Wheedle.

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The Seventh Qualification of a Wheedle, Civility.

CIvility is another Ingredient which contributes to the composition of our Wheedling Proteus; and this is most observable in these four things, Choaths, Countenance, Words, and Actions.

His habit ought to be suited according to the people he is to concern himself withal, never superfluous or Phantastick, yet proper and sometimes indifferently Fashionable, sometimes improper, when (as I have said before) treating of his humility, necessity compels him to joyn with the Brethren for the edification, and building up of the outward man. He must have a special care of his Countenance, it must be full of Kindness, continually smiling, avoiding feigned or affected simpering, for that is utterly destructive discovering the Hypocrisy of his heart too plainly; and all sour looks must be utterly banisht his company; in short his looks much be like the Companies, in every respect conformable.

His manner of speaking must be yielding, obliging, and not polemical, or opposing, concluding with what every one says, though nonsense, it is right indeed; your proposition is undeniable; or all your Arguments are invincible.

[Page] Lastly, his actions seem to aim at nothing more than what is honest, and just, whilst he draws his arrow at profit only; when he is amongst Irreligious persons, who make a scoff at Divinity, he will be then as Debaucht as the worst, Drink, Drab, and draw his Sword, according as the honorable company is inclined; for those three Vices, if he finds them in rich men (into whose acquaintance he hath subtilly insinuated himself) he makes them his Exchequer, which suplies him with Money, as necessity requires; for Drinking breeds Surfeits, which call upon the Physitian for remedy, and such a one he knows Skilful enough to kill the Patient, with whom he goes Snips; Whores he hath enough of all Sizes and Complexions, from Female perfection in Epitome, to the largest Volume of the Sex, whom he furnisheth with Customers of his own acquaintance, and they repay the kindness with a Pox to 'em. What more necessary man in this extremity, or fitter to be sent for, than Mr. Wheedle, to consult about the Cure, who is a man of known Secrecy, and will procure an able Chirurgion, who will faithfully and speedily perfect the Cure; he need not go far for such a one, having always two or three brace of them at his command, with whom he agrees in gross by the year, by reason of the multiplicity of Patients he helps them [Page] to, and hardly one of them Clapt, but by his Procuration.

Lastly, he is infinitely pleas'd if any of his company in their Cups is so Fool-hardy as to draw, no man then shall be more active than himself to part them, blaming them much for their unadvised rashness, and pretends with his utmost power to make them Friends, whereas in effect, he makes their breach the wider, on purpose in that suddain heat they may challenge each other, and knowing the next day, in cool Blood, they will be sorry for what was done, he hugs himself to think what fine work he will make with them both (especially if inclined to Cowardice) in reconciling them together. He hath-been so often imploy'd in deciding differences arising from drunken Quarrels and Challenges, that he is not ignorant in the way of doing it, but will not stir a foot, unless he is certain to receive (as the Serjeant doth) Mony on both sides: Sometimes he will seem to espouse the quarrel himself, and Fight for his Friend, (when he is sure there is no fear of danger) and this must pass for such an infinite Obligation, that no satisfaction can be made, answerable to so great a tender of Friendship.

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The Eight Qualification of a Wheedle, Affability.

AFfability differs little from Courtesie or Civility, for they both consist in all outward signs and caresses, that may make a man Believe, and that confidently too, there is no person more Esteemed and better Belov'd, than they by this subtle insinuating Wheedle.

To this end, by civil Entertainments, and Treats at Taverns, he encourages his Guests (on whom he designs an advantage) to a freedom, and near familiarity with him, and the more to endear them to him, he makes a thousand Protestations of Love and Service, and that they may not doubt this Reality, he will diligently wait, and never be at Rest, till he hath found out some slight occasion to shew them he is as good as his word, and thereupon saith, he is troubled the kindness is no greater, wishing the occasion of a higher concern might be the Probat of his hearty Services.

He hates to interrupt the Discourse of another, (especially if it be about business) hoping to gather from thence some advantagious intelligence; besides, interruption or contradiction is no ways grateful to the Speaker, and therefore [Page] he gives him his utmost liberty, hearkning attentively with some evident signs of satisfaction and contentment, this cannot but please him, and this provokes him to discourse on, nay, to the discovery of his very Thoughts and Designs, where he finds so much Affability; Thus Mr. Wheedle, by the Practice of this Art, hath got a Gilt secretly to unlock Mens hearts at pleasure.

To speak the Truth, that man who rashly interrupts the Discourse of another with eager reparties, or takes the words out of his mouth, endeavouring to Midwife his Fancy for him, or gives not attention to what is said, but tells a Story, either to that purpose, or to any other, before the person hath ended his, is not only a testimony of contempt, but is a great piece of Ill-breeding, Rudeness, and Unmannerliness.

This Wheedle hath learned so much Prudence, as not to lose his Friend for an inconsiderable Jest, or biting Reply, and is so wise, as not to be strange, or offended at any Jest thrown upon him, because by so doing, he doth in a manner acknowledge the truth thereof; wherefore like a Cunningham seems to slight it, and so makes others Believe there is nothing in it, thus he knows it passes without leaving any ill, or disadvantagious impression of him in the minds of the Hearers,

[Page] Lastly, having received any Pledge of Amity, either in Actions or Expressions, by promises of Kindnesses, &c. he often makes grateful acknowledgments thereof, attributing all to the goodness of the Donors Nature, fraught with every thing that is excellent in Mankind, to which he gives so much the more Credit, by how much every one is apt to be deceived with Philauty or Self-love, and too easily will perswade himself, that others believe he possesses those qualities which render him agreeable, and esteemed of all men.

The Ninth Qualification of a Wheedle, Plausibility.

THe Affable and Plausible Man are much alike, whose aim is the general Opinion, and therefore the Wheedle will be acquainted will Plausibility and practise it too, because he makes a Benefit of that esteem his Plausible carriage hath extorted from the Vulgar undeservedly; in his behaviour there is observable a kind of fashionable Respect, but no Friendship. He hath an excellent Command over his Patience (as I said before) and his Tongue, which last he accommodates always to the Times and Persons, and seldom speaks what is sincere, but what is civil. He considers who are Friends [Page] to the Company, and speaks well where he is sure to heat of it again. He hath this admirable Faculty in him, he can listen to a Foolish discourse with an Applausive Attention, and conceals his Laughter at Non-sense, unless he thinks he can conveniently oblige the Fop therewith, and so blind him with an Erroneous opinion of himself, that he may pick his Pocket with greater facility.

Having thus given you a short, but true Account of the Nine Cardinal Qualifications of a Wheedle, I shall here insert some other observations as I gathered them here and there scattered in his subtle Practices and Delusions.

He is one that thrusts himself violently into all Business, most commonly unsent for, unfee'd, and usually unthankt; every mans Business he makes his own, and, in his eager bustling, keeps ado, and does nothing in it at all, yet he cryes, I have done what I can. This man is wholly determin'd in himself and his own ends, and his Instrument herein is any thing that will do it. His Friends, which he hath made so by his Specious Delusive Pretences, are a part of his Engines, and as they serve to his Operations and Designs, are either us'd, or laid aside; to tell you the Truth, he knows not what a Friend signifies, as having never put it in Practice, but if he give any the Name, it is [Page] an infallible Sign he hath a Plot upon that Person. Never more Active in his Business, than when they are mixt with some detriment to other mens Estates; and he accounts it his best Play at this Game (as at Boards-end) to strike off, and lie in the place. Succesful he is frequently in these undertakings, because he passes smoothly those Rubs which others stumble at, as Conscience, Religion, and the like, and gratulates himself much in the advantage. Oaths and Falsehood he accounts the nearest cut to a plentiful Estate, and loves not by any means to go about by the tedious way of Honesty, and Plain-Dealing; and holds him to be a Madman or a Fool, who saith, That Honesty is the best Policy. He never hears a man speak in the praise of Plain-dealing, but his Choler is ready to over-swell its Banks, and ready to be suffocated therewith, because he dares not give it vent: in his thoughts he makes a pish at Religion, yet he uses it too, and it may be as an Elder, or a strict Professor, and is never more dangerously a Devil, than when he Personates a Saint. His deepest endearments is a Communication of Mischief, and in his Conclusion, he either mounts to the height of an Estate, or the top of a Ladder.

This Sordid fellow hath no Esteem for any, but Men of Estates, and such who can and will [Page] do him a courtesie, and when they speak, he takes a world of pains to perswade them they speak nothing but Oracles, when they are hardly guilty of common sense. One that justifies nothing out of Fashion, nor any Opinion out of the applauded way, and therefore will at any time confidently Swear, That the Pope is no man, because the generality call him the Whore of Babylon. He hates the judicious, and men of parts, for no other reason, but because he finds it a difficult thing to circumvent them. Every mans happiness he measures by their Mony, and therefore nick-names Thrive-well to do well, and Preferment he profanely calls the Grace of God. He knows no other content, than when his Plots hit right, purchasing him Mony, Gallantry, and the variety of Town-pleasures; at these Marks all his Studies aim at, and he holds as an idle thing all other speculation.

Thus much of the Wheedle in general; I shall more at large Characterize, or Paint him in his proper Colours, when I shall treat of the several sorts of Wheedles or Town-shifts, in the variety of their Mysterious Practices and Devices.

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CHAP. IV. What are the Praecognita, or things first necessary to be known, before the Student in this Art of Wheedling, enter upon the Practice of the Profession.

I Have in the foregoing Chapters, given you an Account of the Nine first requisite Qualifications of our Wheedle; in the next place I shall endeavour to discover what other things he consults for his Advantage, before he puts in practice his Art of Insinuation, which indeed are the principal discoverers in the profitable Science of reading or knowing Men.

Man is a difficult Book to be read, if we only take an outward view of his Person and Actions; for without much caution, and circumspection, they may both prove dangerously deceitful, though it's said, That the Face is the Index of the Mind, yet Experience tells us, it is no infallible Indicium of the Nature or Disposition of the Person. For which cause Socrates would not believe his own Eyes, but his Ears rather; for, when a Youth was highly commended to him for his excellent Parts, and great endowments of Mind, he did not pry into [Page] his outward Feature, which was admirable, and needed not to have demurred his approbation of him, if that lovely hew, and sweet countenance would have done it, but took a contrary way, by asking him, Loquere puer, ut te videam, which Seneca alluded to in one of his Epistles, Videre, & non eloqui, nec videre est, which puts me in mind of an Italian Proverb, A Lucca te vidi, a Pisa te conobbi, I saw thee at Lucca, I knew thee at Pisa; he had an external superficial View of him at one place, but by converse he gain'd an inward acquaintance with him in another.

Yet it must nor be denied, but that the Eye is the Casement of the Soul, through which we may plainly see it, as one lately saw the Pride of a Rich Phanatick through his thread-bare holy Cloak, as he was going to a Conventicle, upon one of his own Solemn Days of Humiliation.

The Tongue is the truest Touchstone of the Heart, and Herauld of the Mind, but not always; for what is more deceitful and treacherous than it; how sweetly will it Wheedle to obtain its end; lye and flatter to propagate Interest; and hath so full a command, and power over the Heart, that it can utter nothing without her assistance; and when the Tongue pleaseth, will corruptedly speak what the Heart dictated.

[Page] Again, (as one well observes) all is not Gold that glisters; and it was well observed by a Philosopher, concerning a young man that was well proportioned and spoke ill, a Leaden Rapier in a Golden Sheath; Nero's Beard in a Golden Box; wrinkled Faces, and rugged Brows, lurk under smooth Paint; a rotten Nutmeg gilt over, or a gaudy outside with a Baudy rotten inside; an old deformed Woman in a New-fashion'd Gown; yet on the other side, when we see a Body well framed, as wrought out of the purest Virgin-wax, as tempered with the cunning hands of beauty and favour, enriched with the very prodigality of Nature; shall we say this golden Mine affords only leaden Metal? This is no wonder, no rare thing to see Wit, Wisdom, and Virtue in fellowship, or in one House-hold with Beauty; wherefore we must not censure too far by the outward resemblance, or else to instruct knowledge it self in this: That always to see, is not to know.

Neither can any see the Deformity of the Soul by the blemishes of the Body; not but that a man may give a shrewd conjecture, and many a hanging look hath presaged his certain going to the Gallows, some years before the approach of that sad Catastrophe.

I cannot deny but that we may gather something from outward appearances; for men largely [Page] sized are seldom witty Men we find; little Eyes in men betoken crafty, and circumventing Dispositions; in Women, salacity or lechery, with an obstinate selfish humour: a great head, a small wit; goggle eyes, a stark staring fool; great ears, a dull heavy Ass; large breasted, long liv'd; a plain unfurrowed brow, liberal; thick nails, harsh hair, and a gross hard skin, are certain signs of a dull understanding; a fat belly bespeaks a little ingenie, because the subtile Spirits are affected with gross and turbulent Fumes which darken the understanding.

Fat Panches make lean Pates, and grosser bits

Enrich th' Ribs, but Bankrupt quite the Wits.

This will not hold good, if you examin the great Wit, notwithstanding the corpulent Body, of Doctor R. W.

Now since these are no certain Signs, which may direct us to the knowledge of Mankind, let us consider what other helps remain, which I find to be four, very important and necessary to be understood by all the Students of this Art or Science, viz. The four Temperaments or Humours, Inclinations, Passions, and Conversation: of these I shall speak in order.

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CHAP. V. Of the four Principal Humours or Complexions. Of the Sanguine.

ALL Natural Bodies have their composition of the mixture of the four Elements; Fire, Air, Water, and Earth: from the Dominion of any of these, or their qualities, each Temperament or Constitution hath its Denomination: thus Sanguine hath its original from Air, Choler from Fire, Phlegm from Water, and Melancholy from Earth; now, the Blood is hot and moist; Choler hot and dry; Water cold and moist; the Earth cold and dry.

The golden Crasis, or Sanguine Complexion, is (as T. W. describeth it at large, with much Learning and Rhetorick) The Pride of Humours, the Paragon of Complexions, and the Prince of all Temperaments: And as a Potentate he continues his Metaphor thus: You cannot but admire him, if you view him in those Princely Scarlet Robes he is always invested with, seated in a Kingly Throne, and placed in the midst of our Earthly City; next take notice of his Officers, (I mean the Veins and Arteries) which are spread throughout his whole Politeia, yea, dispersed in every Angle, [Page] to execute his Commands, and carry the lively influence of his goodness, reviving those remote parts, which without his influence, would be frettished with a chilness, and in a short time be mortified. Then consider his wise subtle Counsellors, which daily consort with him, for the welfare of his whole Kingdom; the limpid Spirits, the very seat of Divine reason it self, the fountains of Policy, &c.

If we poize all these together, with many more, we cannot but imagine that the blood is a Coelestial Majesty, or a Terrestrial Deity, and he that is nearest allied thereunto, comes nearest to that Eucrasia, the best (but only conceited) Temperament, called by Physitions Temperamentum ad Pondus, which never man yet perfectly injoyed. And is it not ten Thousand pitty's, that this excellent Temperament should lye liable to more abuses than any of the rest; that though its Spirits have the most exact temper of all wherewith the Soul, as being in a Paradise, is most delighted, and for wit surpassing all, yet is the disposition so facile, and easy to be wrought on, that our Wheedle finds him a dish of meat made ready to his hands at any time to feed upon; but more of this hereafter.

The External signs by which he is known, are a live look, with a fresh ruddy Complexion; in speech affable, with a graceful delivery: there [Page] are some excellent qualification in him, which are no ways to the purpose for our Wheedle to take notice of, savoring of too much goodness and virtue for him to imitate or profit by, but his other qualities (which are to him as his panis quotidianus) are these.

First as he knows him to be a great Lover of Wit; there is not an applauded Book in that respect newly minted, but that he either purchaseth it for him, or directs him where he may have it; and the more to ingage him, he is his Intelligencer-generall for all manner of witty conceits, which he gleans here and there, either in Taverns, Bawdy-houses, or Wits Coffee-houses, which he bundles up promiscuously together; and loads his memory therewith, or fearing by its carelesness any may be scatter'd by the way, he binds them up safe in his Table-book, which he studiously cons two or three hour's before he gives them vent, that they may the better pass for his own; and in the delivery how throughly and eagerly he consults the countenance of this our well featur'd, and good natured Gentleman, and if he finds they pleasantly relish the Palate of his Fancy, he gives him more borrow'd Sugar-plums of the like nature, till he hath sweetned him for his own swallow.

By daily conversing with him, this Rascal finds him, not only extraordinary kind, and [Page] affectionate to his Friend, but very liberal also; on both of these he works to his advantage; as to the first, he makes it his business to perswade him by some external demonstrations, that he is a real Friend, not only by protestations of Friendship, but by some petty Services which may intimate as much, and having possest him with that Belief, by a pretended present necessity, he may borrow mony of him, or by an Arrest of his own ordering, may draw him into such obligations, that the releif of the one, commonly proves the untimely destruction of the other.

Now, by reason of that lively abounding humour, he knows him to be salacious, or venereally inclin'd, or a great Lover of Musick and Harmony, and being very sociable, and willing to condescend to any Motion that may make an augmentation to Pleasure, he is easily perswaded to drink plentifully; these are three such knacks the Devil could not invent better to pick mens Pockets with; and what damnable use doth this Wheedling Villain make of them, when he hath got them together. First, the Wench must be procur'd, which is soon done, according as he finds out his harmless Bubbles inclination: he carries perpetually about him a Catalogue of all the Whores he can hear of about the Town, ranking them into three Columes [Page] apart, and thus distinguished; the Flamer, Frisker, and Wast-coateer: The two first are new names given the Does, or Bona Roba's (as the Italian calls a Whore) and they are the upper, and middle sort; the last pitiful and mean, who by her incomes, or plying, never could purchase her self cloaths becoming the Society of Gentlemen. This meretricious Catalogue he digests Alphabetically, by reason of the vast quantity of those white Cloven Devils, with large white spaces between to insert the names of such he hath found out by new discovery; and he takes so good a method for finding them out, that though they change their Names and Lodgings ever so often, yet knowing how great a Friend he is to them, they all send him word when occasion serves of such alterations, which he puts down de novo in his Book; and though one of these Whores in a years time may have twenty names, yet she can have but one body, which he suits his Bubble with, according as he finds his inclination bend, either to black, brown, red, flaxen, or any complexion whatever: but present bounds, before I have too far run beyond present bounds before I was aware on't, designing to speak of this more at large in its proper place, when I shall come to describe the subtle Wheedling practices of Bawds, Whores, Pimps, Bully's, &c.

[Page] The Wench being brought, which is in a garb always agreeable to the Amorist, and of price according to his ability or desire; this delicate bit will not seem half so palatable without a dish of Musick, which lest the ravishing Consort should convert his Brutish desires into Seraphick Love (for to that the Sanguine too is naturally inclined) Madam Van Harlot takes him aside into another Room, pretending to speak with him about business, and there for a double expence gives him the opportunity to cool his Concupiscence. Wine he makes use of to winde up the bottom, playing on the freeness of his disposition, and being tired with the excess of these various delights, Madam and the Musick is dismist, as things no longer pertinent to his design, which is in courtesie to wait upon him home, that he may have the better opportunity to pick his Pocket; and if he finds the intoxicated fumes of Wine have not so fully contributed their assistance to his purpose, as he would have them, yet he knows by their heat they have done enough to soften the Wax of his good Nature, that thereby he hath a fair opportunity to make what advantagious impression he pleaseth upon him.

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Of Choler.

WEre it pertinent to my Subject, I might here give you a description of Choler, and how many sorts there are of it, which the Latins call Bilis, but I shall only name them, because they have been so much discourst already; there is bilis vitellina, of a pale yellow, Porracea, greenish; caerulea, azure, or blewish, and aeruginosa, of a rusty colour.

The Signs whereby a man may discern a man of this Cholerick Complexion, are a yellowish countenance, or swarthy, red-hair'd, or of a brownish colour, very meagre and thin, are soon angry, and soon pleas'd, like the Sanguine, but differs from him in this, that he is all fire, in a moment inflamed, and violent in the prosecution of his Revenge, and no man obligeth him more, than he that will any way assist him in it,

He then that will insinuate into his affections, must flatter him in his unjust Wrath, prompt him to Revenge, inculcating the sweetness thereof; thus when he hath engaged him in a Quarrel, as the Rat and the Frog in the Fable, he, like the Eagle, may hover aloft out of harms way, and safely make a prey of them both. How easily may such a thing be guld, since his rash [Page] actions, for the most part, put a leg before his Judgment, and most commonly out-run it; for his Passion or hot Fancy is the Signal that sets him forward, whilst his Reason comes lagging in the Rear; by all men that are wise, he is accounted indiscreet, because he is so changable and inconstant in his determinations, ever disliking what he before approved; now, none will deny that mutableness, and inconstancy are the intimates and badges whereby Fools are known, and every one knows, that Fools are the constant Food which Knaves do feed upon, which made a crafty Knavish Broker (whom I knew) say, I will not part with my Fools for an Annuity of two hundred pounds.

But this the Knave must do, if he intend to fit his humour to a hair, to be as precipitate as he, in all attempts or enterprizes: for when any thing comes into his head, which he would have effected, he hates all considerate delays, and will not stay the leisure of a second thought; for the first is his Resolution, and never considers what the event may be. Have a care Mr. Wheedle how deeply you engage, or concern your self with this Hot-spur, or Furioso; for since the ground he goes on, is, hap what may, something may happen by the way, in which nothing shall stop you, till you come to Tyburn: and thus as an obstinate, I will, was his Prologue, [Page] so I would I had not, may be your Epilogue. To conclude, this advantage may be made of him, in a humour of quarrelling, he will grosly abuse a man, and in another humour undo himself to make him amends.

Of Phlegm.

THe External Signs whereby a Phlegmatick man may be distinguished from all other Temperaments, are natural paleness of colour, (Pallor in ore sedet) drowsy headed, weakly constituted by reason of the debility of Nature, occasioned by an extream cold moisture, correspondent to the watry Element, wich extinguisheth the Natural Heat in humane Bodies.

There is Phlegma naturale, et non naturale, from whence proceed the Crassum, Gypseum, Salsum, Acetosum, and Tenue, all which contribute to mans dissolution, if not timely hindred in their progression; as to the causes and nature of them distinctly, with the maladies attending, I shall leave to the care of the Physitian, and meddle no further with the Phlegmatick man, than to discover how our Insinuator or Wheedle makes his humour an advantagious thing to work upon.

First, it will be requisite to continue my above commenced description of him, whereby he may be easily known; besides his pallid hue, [Page] drowsie head, and debile constitution, he is dull in conceiving and apprehending: mild natur'd, difficultly incensed, or provoked to Anger, and egregiously Cow-hearted.

There are two qualities in this weakly indigested Phlegmatick person (who always looks like an old Paritan dow-baked) very advantagious for any, who have a mind to practise upon him: first, the dulness of his Apprehension, and Conception; being slenderly furnisht with what makes a man; I do not mean form, or feature, but reason, and understanding; for he is to be dealt withal no otherways than as a child, (for he is always a Boy at Mans estate) and no man questions the facility of cokesing, and cheating such an ignorant Innocent with any Toy, bearing a glittering outside; or if it make but a noise in his Ear, (as a Rattle) it will either still him for the present, or lull him into such a sleep, that you may run away with the House over his Head, with whatsoever thereunto belongs, before he awakes, or if he does, and as in a maze asks you where he is, what he hath done, and what's become of this or that, it is but throwing the Child the other Play-thing, and ten to one he leaves of crying, and goes to sleep again.

Certainly Nature hudled up this thing in hast, and left his better part unfurnisht, or unfinisht; [Page] for every part of him is grown up to a perfect man, only his Brains lag behind; wherefore he wants a Tutor, though he be too old to have one, but our Wheedle thinks it never too late to instruct the simple and ignorant, not caring at what rate they purchase their experience.

I do not hence infer, that all Phlegmatick Persons are Fools, but those who have that humour over abounding; as they are half a dozen steps above a Fool, so they are a great many below a Wise man: he is a man of a good harmless Nature, and well meaning Mind, and wanting judgment to distinguish when good or harm is designed, his mistake in either becomes equally destructive.

The second advantage is made on the mildness of his Nature, and his Cow-heartedness.

He is a man flexible enough, but not given to loquacity, whatever you propose to him, he returns not his answer of liking or disliking; you must take his Silence for Consent, and if you would have it done, you must take him by the hand and lead him to it; if he hangs an Arse, a threat will prick him forward, and if you abuse him, no man takes it more patiently; or if he should ill resent it, it is but re-acting it, and then you abuse him into a reconcilement.

[Page] He that intends to make him his Creature, must often huff him, or now and then relate what desperate things he hath gone through, how many Duels, how many Skirmishes, &c. though he never saw any other Military Body but the Train'd-bands, nor never a Sword drawn, but in a Cutlers shop; for this is a certain rule, that the Opinion of Valour is a good Protection to those that dare not use it. Thus you may get Courtesies by falling out with him, and as the business is rightly managed, his fear will prompt him to bribe you into a Pacification.

In short he is a dull heavy Animal, who in Company will drink, and smoak as much as any, but speak as seldom as Baalam's Ass, and not half so much to purpose; he is only fit to pay Reckonings, and carry burdens, and if the beast be fat, he is the better for our Wheedle to ride upon; but let him have a care he preserve him for his own use, for lending him out to others will founder and spoil him quite. Cullies and Bubbles must be kept as Spaniards do their Wives, keeping them from the sight of all, and so they have the whole use of them to themselves. Great beauties, and fat Fools must be used alike, the sight of either tempts men to rob us of them, who would never have thought on't, otherwise, but by seeing the Temptation. The Goose may be turn'd out, when the feathers are pul'd, till then, [Page] the rich Fop is dealt with by the Wheedle, as a wife was by her husband, who sware to her, he would make as much of her as he could, and so he did; for, having spent her mony, he sold her very cloaths from her back.

Of Melancholy.

OF all the four Temperaments, this is the greatest enemy to life and good society; as to the first, because its qualities being Cold and Dry, do most of all disagree from the lively qualities, Heat, and Moisture; either with its Coldness extinguishing natural inherent heat, or with its Dryness sucking up the native Moisture. As to the second, Society, as all Creatures whatever delight in it, so he is averse to it, and seems to be a man, made to be alone. He may curse his Godfather Saturn for his ill qualities; for he had them all from him; a fellow of that malignant nature, that let him be in Copulation with the best (though with Madam Venu [...], when she is in a merry pin, and in good humour) yet will he dull, and obscure their benevolent influencies.

A man of his temper, by his contemplative faculty, and by the assiduity of sad and serious meditation may prove a dangerous Machiavilian, and may haply invent such stratagems, [Page] whims & policies, as were never put in practice, and which may have a happy success,; but he is no man for a nimble denterical, pregnant, and extemporary Invention; no man at a pleasant Conceit, a Comical Jest, quaint Expressions, varnish'd Metaphors, nor gracefull Delivery; wherefore, he that intends to ingratiate himself into his acquaintance, must not think to do it with A la mode Songs, repetition of Witty Verses, as Epigrams, Epithalamiums, &c. nor with culd ingenious Sentences out of Plays; he had rather hear a Wolf howl at Midnight, or a Consort of Screech-Owles, accompanied with the scratching Courtship of a dozen Cats promiscuously generating; if you Laugh, and show your Teeth to him, he had rather see a Bear grin at him; and the sound of a Violin is more dreadful to him than the crowing of a Cock to a Lyon. If you intend to win his heart, you must endeavour to look like Lazarus, newly risen from the Dead; or like the Daemoniacks coming out of the Tombs; you must make no noise, not so much as open your Mouth, for fear the Air should whistle through your Teeth, and if you must speak, let it be so, as if you intended never to speak more.

I pity that man that is troubled with this Malignant constitution, for it is the Spring of [Page] all sad and bad Humours, the Aqua Fortis of good Company; for he is a contemplative Slumberer, and sleeps waking.

He is distinguished from the other three complexions, by his black swarthy Visage, slow pace, and sad countenance; he entertains hatred a long time in his Breast, and is rarely reconciled to his Enemy. It is a long time before he can be made a Friend, yet he is of a kind Nature to them with whom he hath long conversed, and is constant in his affection and Friendship; and he that will obtain it, must humour his ridiculous Passions, of which he hath too many; what he Conceits, you must Swear is Real; for he hates contradiction, being so much Wedded to his own fond opinion. If he vainly imagin he is made of Glass, (as I have read of one that did) keep your distance, lest coming too near him, he suspect you for an Enemy, and that by a justle you design his Ruin, breaking his brittle Fabrick into pieces; if as another, he thinks himself composed of Butter, you must half starve with him in the cold, rather than injure his conceit, by perswading him to sit by the Fire, and hazard his dissolution; if (as Burton relates of one) he thinks he hath a Nose so big, that the Room wherein he sits is too little to contain it; you must when you give him a visit, squeez your self into it, for fear of hurting his Nose, [Page] till you come to the back of his Chair, there without injury to discourse with him; if as another, who thought himself Dead, and therefore would not Eat, you must sit with him in a VVinding Sheet at a Table furnisht with Meat, and confessing your self to be Dead too, fall on, that by your Example you may perswade him to Eat too, since his Brother Dead-man does it; if as another, who took a conceit he was a God, you must seemingly worship his Deity, till by your Knavish dealing with him, you make him confess his Humanity; if as another, he fancy he is so light, that he must wear Iron Shoes to hinder the VVind from tripping up his heels, lay your Politick weights and Stratagems on his Shoulders, till he groan under the weight of your Cozenage and Deceits. In short, you must deal with him as with men of all other complexions, by a congruity, and suiting with the humour of the Person; for without this, the Wheedle shall miss of his intended advantage.

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CHAP. VII. How to Wheedle or Dissemble with all sorts of Persons according to their several Humours, Ages, and Conditions.

WHosoever intends to insinuate himself into the affection or Friendship of any person, Male or Female, of what Age soever, (proportioning his respects according to the Quality, Riches and Merit of him to whom he doth address them) must throughly Study, and perfectly understand the several Temperaments, Inclinations, and various Motions of the will of that Man, and must practise a conformity and suitableness to his Humours and Passions. VVith a person of a Sanguine constitution, who is of a sweet Nature, you must suit and accommodate your self to the mildness of his Inclinations; you must not prompt him to Revenge, for he is apt of himself to excuse the greatest Injury that is done him, and therefore if you would ingratiate your self with him, you must mitigate offences committed; perswading him, with reason and good advice, to take a moderate satisfaction; this in a very high manner obliges him, as being so agreeable and consentaneous to his loving and merciful disposition.

[Page] With that person, who is agitated and tost to and fro in a turbulent tempestuous Sea of Choler, you must act otherwise; for as it is his humour openly to complain of Injuries receiv'd, so you must amplifie them with what aggravations you can most properly suggest; as his Cholerick Vessel is full fraught with Revenge, (and being fearless of danger, ready to enterprize any thing that may gratifie that destructive Humour) so you must lay aside all consideration, and sailing with him in that desperate Resolution, you must be guided by the Compass of his rash will, pursuing all his angry designs with equal precipitation.

If he rails against any one, that hath injur'd or offended him, you must play the Billings-gate against him too; if he intends to procure, or create this man a thousand Enemies, for a small offence, you must endeavour (or seem) to raise him as many more.

In short, he that would accommodate himself to him that is transported with Choler, must imitate him in some of his Actions, and seem not only to approve of his Passion as just, and truly grounded, but likewise to give him to understand, that your Apefying anger proceeded from the same cause as his did, ever accusing and reviling the causer thereof, praising Revenge, and prompting him to a speedy Execution of it.

[Page] The Phlegmatick person is generally fearful, and therefore takes into consideration all kind of Dangers, and his fear looking through a Microscope, they appear to the deceived eye of his judgment much bigger than they are; a small Mite in a Cheese appears as big as a shaggy Bear, and an Ant as large as an Elephant; it is to no boot then to perswade him to be bold and couragious; talk to him of Wars, and you wound him to the Heart; tell him of a great Army that is preparing against his Countrymen, and he fanfies they are already at the Townsend; always the evil seems to approach nearer than it doth, and discovers his distrust and distraction, by his words and countenance.

Now to condemn this man to his Face or otherwise, for his base fear and Cowardize, is to disoblige him; for though he know himself to be a rank Coward, he knows withal, that it is a disparagement to be thought so, and therefore you cannot please him better, than to perswade the world that he is no such Person, and you must justifie his fears by reason; that his aversion to quarrel and disputes proceeds from prudence; that Wisdom always hinders her Children from fighting for trifles, or were the matter considerable, yet discretion should teach us to put up injuries, and not hazard a mans all in this world for an Airy satisfaction.

[Page] To counterfeit an agreeable fearfulness, is the way to win much upon him, and therefore in discourse, Valour, and all bold enterprizes, should be decryed as the effects of rashness and temerity, and that their consequences are always dangerous, and most commonly destructive. Inculcate frequently the Proverb, and comment upon it, That one pair of legs is worth two pair of hands; That to fly is better than to die, commending Falstaff in the Play, deriding Sir Henry Blunt that was slain; there lies grinning Honour, &c. In short, let safety and security be above all things applauded.

Whereas on the other side, he that hath to do with a bold resolute and confident Person, who never enters into a consideration of any thing that may represent Fear and Danger, must seem couragious and stout, though he be not so, by pretending promptness to prosecute his hazardous designs; and that he may not be suspected, all his actions, which are the fore-runners to any desperate design, must be accompanied with a cheerful and joyful countenance, as if he was more forward than the other, to enterprize any design whatever, though attended with all the danger imaginable, yet may he use an hundred Stratagems to divert him from putting any thing in Execution which may prove prejudicial to them both.

[Page] If this person doth any thing, though never so inconsiderable, the action must be prais'd above measure, whatsoere it be, though bad, it must not want applause, but if others will not forbear speaking of it opprobriously, as it deserves, and coming to his Ear, he seems too sensible of the shame and disgrace, you must then contemn that too great regard that is given to the opinion and censure of men, to which those who subject themselves, are Slaves, that none but Fools regard what the world saith of them; that there is no heed to be taken of the giddy multitude, who will be talking, though they talk nothing; and therefore perswades him not to be regulated by the measure of censuring severity. Here by the way observe to praise, respect, and seemingly love whosoever is beloved by him, in whom you intend to gain an Interest; and those he hates, you must hate too, and let him know you do it, by aggravating all their ill Offices, rejoycing at any bad, and grieving at any good shall befall them.

If you would accommodate your self to ingrateful Persons, (which are a sort of Cattle I may call without offence, Hells first Inhabitants) you must then lessen whatsoever kindnesses he receives from others, and magnifie whatsoever he bestows; always inculcating into his Ear, that such a thing was done out of design, or that [Page] he could do no less than to repay one favour, since there was so many due upon sundry occasions.

The Envious must be dealt with after another manner, and that is, when you find him transported with Indignation and Envy, for the good which happens to any one; then must the worth of this person be vilified, that there is nothing in him which deserves such Boons from the hand of Fortune, but hang't she is blind and inconstant, and knows not how to reward Merit and Desert.

And to gratifie the more this Diabolical humour, there is nothing does it more effectually, than to parallel him who is thus Envious, with him that is Envied, exalting the first, and debasing the last; magnifying the least good quality discernable in the one, and lessening that which is perspicuously good in the other; and that the bad actions in his life may smother and stifle his better qualifications, and virtuous inclinations, all the stains or blots of his whole Life and Conversation, must be strictly lookt into, and numbered, to be ready for Repetition when the Envious shall maliciously exclaim against this Person.

Lastly, though the Wheedle knows the Temperament of men, with their Inclinations and Passions, yet he is to understand this, that a man [Page] is not always in one humour; he may be Sour, Cross, and Morose in a Morning upon an hungry Stomach, yet may be Pleasant and Courteous after Dinner, when he hath cram'd his Crib; and for the benefit of Concoction, hath warm'd his Stomach with half a dozen glasses of brisk Claret; and therefore some have that Policy or insight into Mens dispositions, that they will not Negotiate or treat about any portant affair with any Merchant, till he hath laid the Basis of his Design on a good Breakfast, or a plentiful Mornings draught.

Moreover, as a man may be out of humour, by reason of that acid humour within, which proves a Canibal oftentimes, and feeds upon the Stomach, for want of other sustenance, so gain and loss, good and bad News, success or crosses in any design, &c. will suddenly and strangely alter a mans humout from Joy to Sorrow, and so vice versa. Sometimes a mans countenance (like the Sun in April) shall look for a while pleasant and chearful, and in an instant, some cloudy discontent obseures its Face, and then it falls a Raining.

Now, since Joy and Sorrow govern differently, Joy being never willing with Venus to admit Sorrow into her Society, (Non solet in lecto triste venire Venus) there must be therefore a special care had, how the present mirth of others [Page] be discomposed or diverted, by some unseasonable sorrowful action or expression; with the Joyful and Merry there must be a corresponding jollity. On the other side, if one in the depth of another mans sorrowful condition should be exercising his Buffoonry; by this means he would render himself disagreeable and importunate; but he must accommodate himself to the parties grief, and suffer with him for a while; and at length by sliding by degrees out of that dumpish humour, you draw him after you, leaving the sorrow to come limping after. Mans nature is more inclined to pleasure, than to any other thing, and therefore is the more willing to embrace it; but then it must be done with a sweet insinuation, and he that hath that excellent faculty, what may not that man effect according to the humour he is to work upon. The Man that is Melancholy, or any ways disturb'd in mind, needeth no other Physician, which he knows; and therefore no mans company more acceptable than his: O for Mr.—such a one (cries the sorrowful) where is he? send for him. Were he here, his pleasant discourse would asswage my sorrow, his company is the Antidote for an afflicted person: and being come, who so welcome as he, what thing too good for him; whilst they both live, by this means he is like to have his loving look, and ten to one after Death his large Legacies.

[Page] In short the Wheedle, concludes whilst there is a man living on the Earth, there is a necessity for him to imitate the Vices and debauches, as well as the Virtues of those with whom we converse. Alcibiades, who was both on Orator and Philosopher, being at Athens, when he was amongst the Lacedemonians, his conversation was crabbed and austere; when amongst the Thracians a very spruce Gallant, and would play the Bacchanalian stoutly. Amongst the Jonians, he addicted himself to all those pleasures they most delighted themselves in, being very jovial, and as they were phantastick so was he: When he was among the Persians, he imitated them in their gallantry of apparel, with other Sumptuous and Splendid habits and accoutrements, according to the humour of that (then) luxurious Nation.

A man qualified with such a Spirit cannot fail to reap his advantages whereever he comes, but especially at Court, or Princes Palaces, where men must comply, and render themselves easy to conform to all sort of Humours and Manners, as if it proceeded from a natural inclination, and not from any fawning imitation.

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CHAP. VIII. Some general Observations tending to a further discovery of Mens Inclinations.

IN the preceding Chapters it is indifferently proved, that the Temperaments are the most general and most eminent causes of the Inclinations of both Sexes, Men being inclined to such and such Passions, according to the quality of the Humours which are predominant in the Body; thus the Melancholick person, as he is sad and serious, so he is commonly Politick and Ingenious: the Cholerick active, angry, and inconstant: the Sanguine jovial and affable: the Phlegmatick stupid and faithful.

Besides these Internal Characters, there are also many that are External, which are as Letters by which man is read and understood; for largeness of the Breast (according to common experience) denotes nimbleness, and strength of the junctures: openness of the Nostrils, and wideness of the Mouth, are Marks of courage and gluttony: a thick Neck, the flesh hard and musculous, and the extremities large, are signs [Page] of bodily strength, and strong judgment: the Square Fore-head, Nose somewhat big, Lips thin, and the Chin of an indifferent largeness, declare magnanimity and greatness of courage: the Stature tall and streight, the Eye-brows elevated, a Majestick gate, and sprightly eyes, signifie ambition and desire of honour: the Forehead and Face of a square figure, and the Head of a convenient bigness, are marks of Wisdom, Constancy and Justice. If you will be further acquainted with these and other external signs belonging to mens Bodies, and would know their signification according to experience, consult that excellent and elaborate Piece of Mr. Sanders, treating at large of Physiognomy and Chiromancy; where you will find, and whence it may be affirmed, that of all the parts belonging to Man or Woman, there is not one, but which denotes some particular Vice or Virtue.

Now, though these aforementioned signs, with these which follow, are admirable discoverers of intricate Man, viz. motion of the Body, Gate, Gesture, and carriage of it, Beauty and Deformity, Colour, Air of the Countenance, quality of the Skin, Voice, fleshiness of the Body, figure and largness of the Parts, all which proceed from External or Internal causes, yet some say, that these signs are not certain; but may fail in sundry respects: first as to the external; a man [Page] may become crooked, or crump Shouldered by a fluxion, or by a fall; a man may squint by imitating another (when he was young) who lookt obliquely; secondly, as to the internal, a man may go slowly, through weakness by sickness; thus the air of the Countenance, the Voice, Skin, and fleshiness of the Parts, may receive alteration upon the same account; an hundred instances I could here insert to the like purpose; which will not much avail my present purpose in hand; there is no rule so general, but it will admit of some exception; yet let me advise the Reader, to take special notice of this caution, Caveto ab iis, quos Deus notavit; beware of them, whom God hath markt, I believe it is meant in Ʋtero, such as come so markt into the world, who are like Parsons Sons, most commonly upon the extreams, either very good, or very bad; some natural marks I have taken special notice of, as mens Eyes of different colours, sometimes one bigger than the other; a tuft of hair white, and the rest black, &c. whosoever deals with such men ought to have much circumspection; for they are generally Crafty and Knavish; whereever you see a black or brown hair'd man with a reddish Beard, conclude him no Woman-hater, but a hater of honest Women.

To conclude, he that hath attained to the discovery of the Inclinations, Manners, and designs [Page] of other men we cannot then but acknowledge, that he hath gotten the surest Guide that can be taken for a man's conduct in the whole course of his life, and shall in the right use thereof, not only avoid a thousand dangers, and inconveniences, into which, from time to time he runs the hazard of falling into; but likewise supports himself hereby, though in the most tottering condition. For it shows the opportunities, and favourable conjunctures of time, wherein a man ought to speak or act any thing to the best advantage, and teacheth him the manner how to do it, and if it be requisite to suggest an advice, to inspire a Passion, or a design, it knows all the Passages through which it is to be derived into the Soul.

In the compleating the study of this Art, there is nothing more requisite, than the right knowledge of Physiognomy, which discovers the disposition and inclination of men, as much as any thing; now he that hath got a good understanding therein, need not complain against Nature, for not putting a window before mens hearts, that their thoughts, and secret designs might be seen; for those things fall not under the senses; for though the eyes saw the very bottom, and all the windings, and turnings of the heart, yet could they not observe any thing therein, from whence they might derive the knowedge of it: Nature [Page] hath made other provision for this discovery; to wit, not only voice and tongue (the Interpreters of the thoughts) but also lest (out of a distrust) man should abuse them, Nature hath contrived a language in his forehead and eyes, to give the other the lye, in case they should not prove faithful. In short, she hath exposed his Soul to be observed on the outside, so that there is no necessity of any window to see his motions, inclinations, and passions, since they are apparent in his face, and are there written in such visible, and manifest characters; yet for all this, few have the Art of reading them, for want of humane observation: let us then pass to things that are more legible, and those are the Passions.

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CHAP. IX. Of the Passions in General, by which we come to know, and win upon men.

AS the depths of the Earth are obscure places, which are not penetrated by the radiant light of the Sun, where Night and Horror seem to sojourn, and there have their dwelling; so is the heart of man environed with darkness, which is not to be dissipated, and whatsoever it conceiveth is so hidden, as we can guess thereat but by conjecture, and all the rules, and observations we have, or may lay down are not so infallible, but that they lye liable to mistakes. For words are not always faithful representations of the hearts conceptions; neither are actions always to be credited. Humane wisdom (which vaunts it self to see far into what is to come) is much troubled to discover mans intentions; and the greatest work a Statesman can undertake, is, when by his dexterity he endeavors to expound a dissembling Hypocritical heart, and there to observe such thoughts, and designs, as are endeavoured to be kept concealed.

Thus our Wheedle by policy arrives to this knowledge, which gives him rules how to sound [Page] these depths, which seem to have no bottom. He judges of mens Meanings, by their Humours and Actions, and reads in the eyes and face, the most secret motions of the Soul, and its inclinations. He observes their nature by their designs, and studies man so well, that he can give ashrewd guess at their very thoughts, and by one piece of subtilty and cunning, discover that, which they by another seek to conceal. But of all these ways I find none more easy, and more certain than that of the Passions; for they escape us against our will and betray us by their Promptness, and likeness, as Seneca saith, nulla vehementior intra cogitatio est quae nihil moveat in vultu. Daily experience tels us this, that it is much more hard to withhold a mans Choler, than his hand, and to impose silence to his sufferings, than to his mouth. They mutiny without our leave, and by an impression which they make in our countenance, they teach our enemies all that lies within our hearts, and invite the Wheedle to come, and banquet on our follies. Horace terms the Passions Tortures; Vino tortus & Ira; and rightly too; for as they torture us through their rigour, so by Violence they force us to confess the truth. A man must be very faithful to himself, if he do not declare himself, either by hatred, or vanity, and he must have great power, and keep them under, when our Skilful Artist undertakes to move them upon [Page] some Wheedling account. The wisest men frequently forget their prudent resolutions, and oftentimes a Praise, or a Reproach draws a truth from them, which wisdom had a long time kept concealed.

Tiberius, the Emperour, is judg'd by the Learned to be the greatest Dissembler that ever sway'd a Scepter, and therefore the Senate trembled as oft as they were to treat with a Prince so close, and so cunning; for all his words were Aenigmas, and his actions so obscure, as that none could discover his intentions; notwithstanding, one word of Agrippina's so incensed him, as to to make him say a thing which so agitated him, that doubtless he would have concealed it, had he continued in his ordinary Temper; thus was the most concealed man in the world betray'd by the heat of Passion, and by an indiscreet answer discover'd the bottom of his heart. Our Wheedle hath a special care of this; for as he he is reserved in his speeches, so he his Master of his affections in such sort, as that they appear not in his visage, nor sparkle out in his words, nor actions; all the doors of his Soul are shut up, but one small Postern for Flattery to issue out at, by which means no man shall fathom his depth, and those that will take the pains to know him, must consult Report; which way is very uncertain; for Fame is fickle, Enemies are Lyars, and Friends are Flatterers.

[Page] Whilst he is thus reserved to himself he neglects not to inquire into other mens Inclinations, and reads in those faithful Glasses the most secret motions of their hearts. He diligently examins what Passion is out of order; for if any one be, it is impossible to conceal it, and when it hath discover'd its self, he presently makes use thereof to his own benefit, but their certain prejudice. If women did not discover how much they are delighted with idle discourse, they would not run much danger in their honour; for when this Wheedle hath discovered their Weakness, and shall observe, that they are pleas'd in being prais'd, he insinuates himself into their likings by Flattery, and makes himself beloved by them, by approving of what they love. The ambitious man hath no fence against him, when he hath discover'd his Passions; as he esteems of nothing more than Vain-glory, he foregoes any thing he hath to acquire it, and thinks to be a greater gainer by the Exchange, wherein he parts with real goods for empty words; and to be brief, the whole World must confess, that our Passions are chains which make us Slaves to all such as know how to manage them well.

When the Paricide, Cataline, had vowed the ruin of his Country, and had resolved to change the Roman Commonwealth into a cruel Tyranny, he corrupted all the young men by [Page] accomodating himself to their desires; he appeased Confederates by flattering their humour; he won their good wills, by following their inclinations; and by promising Preferment to such as were ambitious; women to such as were lascivious; and riches to the avaritious.

Thus must the Wheedle act if he intends his design shall prove prosperous; and herein he exactly imitates the Devil, who hath great lights (though he be Prince of darkness;) and as he knows all mens tempers, he fits all his suggestions to their desires, and propounds nothing to them which is not conformable to their inclinations. To the proud he proffers honour, he awakens the Passion which possesseth them, and engageth them in unlawful ways to compass pernicious designs, and endeavours to perswade them, that whatsoever they commit (though never so bad, if reputation may he gotten thereby) is glorious, and praise worthy. He sollicits the voluptuous by infamous pleasures; if he cannot commend their Villanies, he seeks out names to excuse them: he terms that natural, which is irrational, and, as if Nature and Reason were at Enmity, he counsels them to follow the former, and forsake the latter. He encourageth the Furious to Revenge; he gives gallant Titles to shameful Passions; he endeavours to make the resentment of an injury pass for an act of Justice and Gallantry, [Page] and contradicting all Maxims of Christianity, he establisheth the greatness of courage in hatred and Murder. He perswades the avaritious that there is nothing more generally sought after than Riches: that our Ancestors have reverenced it, that our Successors will honour it; that people who differ in other opinions, agree in the reputation they put hereupon; that Poverty is infamous, that it is the contempt of Rich men, and indeed the scorn of most men.

Non habet infoelix Paupertas durius in se

Quam quod ridiculos homines facit——

There's naught in Poverty so bad as this,

Applaudits ne'r attend it, but an Hiss.

In fine, these two colloguing Enemies, the Wheedle, and the Devil, undo alike by flattering men; they gain upon their understandings by their affections, so beat them with their own Weapons, and by a dangerous piece of cunning employ their Passions to corrupt their wills. In what manner the Wheedle works upon the Passions to his advantage, shall be discoursed in some following Chapters.

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CHAP. X. Of the Number of the Passions.

DIvers are the Opinions of men about the Passions; some will have them placed in the neathermost parts of the Soul; some imagin they are framed in the Body; and thus they differ too about their numbers; some will acknowledge but two, as Aristotle, &c. The Academicks admit of four principal Passions, Desire and Fear, Joy and Sorrow, and that all others are comprehended by them; thus Hope, Audacity, and Choler, are ranked under Desire; Despair, and Aversion under Fear, and that all of them together do determine in Joy or Sorrow. The Peripateticks did multiply them, and grounded their Number upon the divers motions of the Soul; for the Soul (say they) hath either an inclination or aversion to the Objects with which she is either pleased or displeased; and this is Love or Hatred; or else she shuns them, and this is Eschewing; or she draws near unto them, and this is Desire; or she promiseth to her self the fruition of what she wisheth, and this is Hope; or she cannot defend her self from the Evil which she apprehends, and this is [Page] Despair; or she endeavours to withstand it, and this is Audacity; or she chears her self up to overcome it, and this is Choler: Lastly, she either possesseth the good, and this is Joy, or suffereth the evil, and this is Sorrow.

Others will have the Passions to be in Number just Eleven, Love, Desire, Delight, Hatred, Abomination, Sorrow, Hope, Despair, Fear, Ire, and Audacity: this may be experimented in most Beasts, but especially in a Wolf preying on a Sheep, and rescued by the Shepheard and his Dogs.

A French Philosopher, and a very witty and wise man, ranks the Passions after this manner, which he calls simple Passions, and thus he defines them.

First, Love, whereby the Soul doth issue out of her self, and is a motion of the Appetite, whereby the Soul is enclined towards a supposed good in order to its union thereunto. Monsieur Senault is of the same opinion with St. Augustine, maintaining, that Love is the only Passion which doth agitate us, or hath operations in us; for all the motions which molest the Soul are but so many disguised Loves; our Fears, and Desires, our Hopes, and Despairs, our Delights, and Sorrows, are countenances which Love puts on, according to the events of good, or bad success, and as the Sea carries diverse names, [Page] according to the different parts of the Earth which are thereby watered; so doth Love change her name according to the different estates wherein she finds her self; or as among the Heathen, every perfection of the Almighty past for a several Deity, so amongst Philosophers the different qualities of Love have been taken for different Passions.

Secondly, Hate, whereby the Soul retires into her self, and, separating her self, recedes from the Evil.

Thirdly, Pleasure is a motion of the Appetite, whereby the Soul is dilated, and spreads her self into the Good, in order to her more absolute Possession thereof.

Fourthly, Grief is a motion of the Appetite, whereby the Soul contracts her self to shun the Evil which presses upon her.

Fifthly, Constancy is a motion whereby the Soul is fortified, and grows resolute in order to the resistance of those ills that set upon her.

Sixthly, Consternation is a motion, whereby the Soul is weakned, and gives way to the violence of the Evil.

Seventhly, Audacity violently bestirs her self against the Evil to overcome it.

Eightly, Fear faintly retreats, and with a certain precipitation shuns the Evil, which she sees coming upon her. The compounded [Page] Passions according to his opinion are, Hope, Arrogance, Impudence, Emulation, Anger, Repentance, Shame, Jealousie, Compassion, Envy, and Agony.

First, Hope is a mixture of the Good, and the constancy a man expresses in opposing the difficulties whereby it is encompassed.

Secondly, Arrogance proceeds from Philauty, or Self-love, and the audacity a man hath to surprize another.

Thirdly, Impudence is framed of the pleasure and confidence a man hath to do unhandsom things.

Fourthly, Emulation is a mixture of grief, unto which man is subject, for not being Master of those Perfections, with which he imagins another to be invested, and the hope of being able to acquire them.

Fifthly, Anger consists in the grief which a man endures for an injury received, and the audacity he hath to retort it.

Sixthly, Repentance proceeds from the grief which a man conceives from the Evil which he hath committed, attended by a detestation of it, which may be termed a kind of Audacity.

Seventhly, Shame proceeds from a mixture of Grief, and fear of Infamy.

Eightly, Jealousie is a composition of Love, Hate, Fear, and Despair.

[Page] Ninthly, Compassion consists of the grief which other mens misfortunes raise in us, and a fear that we our selves may fall into the like inconveniences.

Tenthly, Envy is a mixture of grief, and a certain Despair of coming to the enjoyment of that good which we see happen to others.

Lastly, Agony is a mixture of grief, fear, and audacity.

To give you a particular account of all the Passions, with their Characters at large, describing all the good and bad uses that are to be made of them, will be a task too remote from my present subject; however I shall acquaint you how the Wheedle fingles out some of them, and what large advantages he makes of them, thriving like a Toad, by feeding on what is bad or venemous.

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CHAP. XI. That Passions are the seeds of Vice, from whence the Wheedle receives frequently a plentiful Harvest.

WE must in the first place presuppose, that the sensual appetite is devided into two parts, Concupiscible, and Irascible, one coveting, the other invading, yet are not two faculties, or powers of the Soul, but one only power and faculty, which hath two inclinations; for, as there is but one power of hearing, and seeing, though with two Ears, and two Eyes; so we have one sensual Appetite with a double inclination, one coveting, and desiring, and the other invading, and oppugning; by the former it pursues good, and shuns evil; by the latter, it either complies with, or opposes the difficulties which present themselves. For, as the Universe consists, and is full of things contrary, and opposite one to the other; so there is not any thing can continue in it without meeting with Enemies, which assault and endeavour to destroy it. Wherefore, it was the work of the Providence of Nature to bestow on every individual thing, not only the virtues which were necessary for the Execution of its ordinary, and [Page] as it were of its Domestick functions, but also those, which should secure it against the attempts of others, and prevent the violences which it might be exposed to abroad.

Upon this account it is, that all things have some qualities conducive to the preservation of their being, and others enabling them to oppose what is contrary thereunto. Man above all the Creatures of the Creation might boast of, and rejoyce in his safety and security, continually guarded by Reason, were it not for the Passions, which (since our ejectment out of the State of Innocency) have revolted from Reason, whence they had their orders, and are become disloyal, no longer acknowledging the voice of their Soveraign, but obey what first commands them, and take part with a Tyrant, as with their legitimate Prince. This is nothing to be wondered at, since the Passions are no farther distant from Vices, than they are from Virtue; as in the confusion of the Chaos, Fire and water were mingled together, so is evil with good in the affections of the Soul, and from those fatal Mines, Iron is as well drawn out as Gold; Man ought therefore to keep himself always on his guard, and knowing that he carrieth about him in his Bosom both Life and Death, it behoveth him to be as circumspect in his comportments, as those, who walk upon the edge of a Precipice.

[Page] These Passions, as they are highly prejudicial, nay, sometimes destructive to every particular person in whom they are disordered; so are the greatest mischiefs in general hatcht, or occasioned by these insolent affections; if Love and Hatred could be exiled from the Earth, Murder, and Adultery, could not there be found. Men may accuse Poets for Fictions, but these Passions have committed more Errors than the others have invented.

An unlawful Love put all Greece into Arms, and the flames thereof reduced the goodliest City of all Asia to Ashes. How infinite is the number of private families, which have been utterly ruin'd by this Passion, instigated by Villanous men, expecting from their fall a rise considerable.

Jealousie between Caesar and Pompey, was the loss of the lives of more than a Million of Men; the world was divided in their quarrel, their Ambition put Arms into the hands of all people, and the world doth yet bemoan this Disaster, the spoils of this Shipwrack are yet seen, and the States of Europe are but so many pieces, which did compose the Body of that Puissant Common-wealth.

Thus Jealousie, when irritated and heightned, becomes destructive to private persons; how many horrid Murders are committed yearly upon [Page] that account alone in Italy: where is there a place, wherein men are not strangely agitated by this Passion, in such sort, that at last they prove the fatal Instruments of their own ruin.

What advantage our Wheedle can make of this Passion, I know not, unless perswaded by lust to make a separation between Man and Wife, he hopes thereby to gain the enjoyment and possession of her. The jealous or superstitious man of all men is the unfittest person for him to deal with, being given so much to mistrust, that it is impossible for one to make him believe any thing above a quarter of an hour, and if any thing intervene in that time, which seems to contradict that Report, he takes you for his Enemy, and he becomes yours implacable without a cause. No man need to plot mischief against him, for he is one that watches it himself, with a learing eye for fear it should escape him. Much circumspection and caution must be had when you are in his company, how you speak; for most words he takes in a wrong sense, and thinks whatever ill is spoken of another reflects upon him; and not a jest can be thrown, but he will make it hit him; and herein you will find his humour insupportable, he shall stamp, swear, sweat, and chafe, that he is abused, and at last fretting, fling out of the room with a quarrel to every man, stung and gald, and no [Page] men know less the occasion, than they that have given it.

Have a care how you laugh in his company, it is of a dangerous consequence, for he imagins it can be at nothing, but at him; and should you whisper, it is absolute Conspiracy. Such men can never have friends, because they cannot trust so far; they are continually wronging others, because they think they wrong them, and as they continually accuse others, when they are not guilty, so they are always defending themselves when they are not accused: finally, you were best let them alone, for behave your self how you will, it shall go hard, but that you must abuse them whether you will or no, and not one Bodle for your labour.

Of LOVE.

IT is pity, that Love, which is the holiest Passion of the Soul, should meet with so many impious Persons which corrupt it, and, contrary to its own inclinations, make it deserve their designs, by turning natural Love into self-Love, making the Spring head of good, the Original of all out Evil: For before Adams fall, man had no love save only for good, but since his disobedience, his love changed Nature; he, who looked on another mans advantage, and his own with [Page] the same eye, began to separate them, and forgeting what he ow'd to God, he made a God of himself, ruling his affections by his own interests, and resolving to Love no longer any thing, but what was profitable and pleasing unto him.

This mischief, like Poyson, disperst it self through the whole Fabrick of Nature, and who is there now (nay amongst the Religious, and Severe Professers) who is not a Philautist, who is so much a self-lover, that he makes most of his designs Pimping Procurers to his benefit and delight. For self-love (which leans always towards the flesh) will have the Slave to govern the Master, and that the Body command over the Soul. Self-love commands us to follow our own inclinations, and to govern our desires only acording to our vanity; flatters our ambition, and to insinuate it self into us, gives us leave to do what we please; it makes a man labour only for his own pleasure, or glory; it makes this the end of all his actions, and doth so bind man up within himself, as that it suffereth him not to consider any other interest than his own; if he does his Country or any particular Person any good, it is to do himself a kindness. Certainly this man must be ingrateful and unfaithful, who is so much in Love with himself.

[Page] From this Spring-head of Michief flow three Rivers, which deluge the whole Universe. The first is Venereal Love, or a Love of women, for face, and features, and this is called Incontinency. The Second is the Love of Wealth, and a large Revenue, and this is called Covetousness; The third, and last is the Love of Titles of Honnour, and Splendid preferments, and this is termed Ambition: all these pleasing Enemies of mankind are hardly to be overcome by Reason; for besides their natural Forces, they have Auxiliaries, which they collect from our inclinations and habits: Now the Wheedle that knows the operations of these three Passions in himself, and how much they tickle him who is possest with them, understands how to conform to any of them so long, till thereby he hath gratified his own designs.

Of DESIRE.

ONe would think (since in all creatures, as well as men, there is a certain instinct for selfpreservation) man could not harm himself by having his Desires changed into effects; for, it is the ordinary wish which our friends, and nearest Relations bestow upon us, and undoutedly were they well regulated, nothing would be more greateful, and useful in their accomplishment; [Page] and we should esteem our selves (from thence) the happiest of men, if after a long pursuance, we should arrive to the complement of our desires; but, as these wishes are almost always unjust, so their success is frequently injurious. And, here I cannot omit inserting a most incomparable saying of Seneca, Bonae animae male precantur, & si vis foelix esse, Deum ora, ne quid tibi ex his quos optantur, eveniat. We must pray to the Omnipotent, that nothing may befal us, which is wished to us; and in this, it is not improbable that our best friends may innocently wish us ill, when they make vows in our behalf: this is a pardon, not so difficult to be understood, if you will but consult the dangerous practices of the Wheelde in feeding, and fomenting that Self-love he discovers in any Person, by indulging (if possible) all his wishes, and desires, working upon the imagination the more to irritate them, which probable might be quiet enough, did not this embroiling Power put them in disorder.

Nature (of her Self) is contented with a very little, and that mean too; she only makes head, to oppose what either doth molest, or would destroy; she covets not stately structures, and, so that she be but preserved from the injury of the Weather, she values not their ornaments; she minds not gaudy habiliments, and cares not how plain her garments are, so that they hide her nakedness, [Page] and fence her body from the rigour of the cold; she hunts not after delights, which are excesful in meat, and drink, so that they quench Thirst, and satisfy Hunger: but imagination, which seems to have no other employment since the Fall, continually is busied in inventing new delights, and adds dissoluteness to our desires, and makes our, wishes altogether irregalar; tis she that makes the whole Nature labour to satisfie our Pride and Luxury; she dives into the Bowels of the Earth, and into the depths of the Sea, to find out Pearls, and pretious Stones, with what other ornaments they afford to deck the body.

In fine, she inquisitively seeks after curiosity of delicate food, and admits of none, but what is exquisit; she confounds the Seasons to afford man pleasure, and in spight of a sultry Summer, preserves Snow and Ice to cool the Wine, that it may please the better. These things the sensual Wheedle suggests to him by the strength of imagination (to fatten his own carkass) and having possest him with an opinion of the excellency of their enjoyment, impatient of delay, and wing'd with desires, he takes his flight, and never desists till he hath seiz'd the Quarry; and at length, by greediness, is either gorg'd, or surfeited into an Hospital, having not so much mony left, as will procure him one single Purgation.

[Page] How cunningly will this Wheedle insinuate himself into the Society of young Men, and knowing how prone they are to prosecute pleasure of all sorts, he hath an Inventory of all places of Pleasure and Pastimes; then he tells them of such an excellent New-Spring-Garden; such a Match at Bowls, where so much Mony will be laid; such a Race; such a Match at Hunting, &c. if none of these will take, he hath twenty more; some of which will hit; after this a glass of Wine, over which he discourses of several excellent Beauties, he hath had the honour to be acquainted with, such who were never blown upon by the infectious Air of the City or Suburbs, but fresher than Flora in all her sweet smelling gaiety; these are the Traps he lays, when he hath warm'd their Bloods with Liquors, and poisons them with Wine and VVomen, as men do Rats with Sponge and sweet Malago.

Of HOPE.

HOpe is the next thing our Wheedle makes use of for his advantage, abusing it by an employment contrary to the intent of Nature, and making it serve an unworthy Master, whereby Cunning or Violence turns it out of the pure Stream, wherein Virtue smoothly glides, and by diverting her from her legitimate Object, [Page] he proposes others unto her incongruous to her Nature. For, according to the opinion of the Learned, this Passion ought to respect good that is absent, difficult, yet possible; wherefore Honours, Profits, and Pleasures, cannot be true Objects; for they have only the appearance of good; it is Opinion (that knows not rightly how to name things) hath given them Titles they deserve not; for, to say the Truth, Riches and swelling Titles have no other valuation, than what Ignorance or Falshood have bestow'd upon them. Honour depends so strongly upon Opinion, as it is her meer Workmanship. The Pleasures of this life are too pernicious to man to be numbered among his good things; for Shame and Sorrow always attend them, making them bear the punishment of all their extravagancies they have committed; which our Wheedle takes care to conceal from mens knowledge, lest knowing the fad effects, they should repent, and desist from prosecuting them: he represents them otherwise to the deceived eye of his Bubble, showing him Pictures, which are in effect nothing less than what they appear to his Senses; and thus the poor ignorant Gull, judging of the deceitful workmanship of those Pictures only by the eye, thinks he sees Birds hovering in the Air, and, standing at a distance, imagins by the crafty Landskip, that he sees Hills, Plains, and Woods of a vast extent, [Page] but drawing nearer, finds only some few stroaks of a Pencil, drawn on Canvass, which deceived his Senses, and made him see what was not; or had they been real representations, and not painted appearances, he hath a thousand pretences to keep them out of his Clutches, and yet buoy up his Hope still with empty promises.

All men are apt to flatter themselves with vain hopes, and therefore it is a matter of no great difficulty, to infuse Hopes into the credulous Prisoner for Debt; though he be under never so many Executions of merciless Creditors, yet he promiseth himself liberty, which the Wheedle understanding, cherisheth in him those groundless Hopes, by telling him there is nothing impossible; that he hath effected more difficult things of the like Nature; further insisting on the great authority he hath over such, and such of his Creditors, and that he questions not, but by his perswasion, he shall work them to a good agreement: this extracts part of the remaining mony out of his pocket, which should have bought him bread, and leaving him, adds more misery to his deplorable condition.

A Criminal condemn'd (though under the Hangmans hands) by Hope perswades himself he shall escape the Gallows, which his Wheedle assures him of, and receives from him the remainder [Page] of his ill gotten mony, but leaves him in his greatest extremity, and thus the Rope puts a period to his Hope. This is certain, that there is none so miserable, who do not (indiscreetly) feed themselves with some imaginary happiness; thinking, that the Stars will club their influencies to do Miracles for their sakes, and that the order of the Universe shall be chang'd to fulfil their desires; these are the men whose company he dearly loves, for they are one main Pillar which supports his house, which was built out of the ruins of many others; he leads them by the Nose (as the Bear-heard does Tom-Dove up and down the Town) to this Lords house, and that Noblemans, pretending to help them to Preferments, or what else he can gather from them, they either hope for, or desire, but to less purpose for them, than the pennyless Pilgrimage to Scotland; for these deluded Fops see none of these Great men, on whom their hopes depend by his perswasion, nor do I see, how they can by his means; for, he knows them not, and if he hath heard of their names and abode, that is all; now whilst their gaping Hopes gaze on something, they know not what, and never shall attain to, he dives into their pockets, and sends them home pluckt as (Widgeons and Woodcocks) founder'd and tired with the travel, and trouble of waiting upon nothing. Nor shall the [Page] old man escape him, who hopes to live a little longer, a man to be pitied more than any other; for though in a Glass, (if he hath any glimmering sight left) he may see Death lively Pourtray'd in his countenance, doth yet promise himself longaevity; they are sensible, that every day, they lose the use of some part of their body; they see not but by art; they hear not without difficulty; they walk not without pain; and in every thing that they do, they have new proofs of their weakness, yet they hope to live, and, to confirm him in that believe, our Wheedling Sophister tells him how our fore-fathers lived many ages, and why may not he one half Century of years beyond the common custom; it is not so long ago since old Parr lived; it is but having a care of themselves, and they may fence their (old, though sound) carkasses from Death, and so taste a favor that hath not been granted, excepting to such as had not as yet lost all Innocence. He will run up and down the whole Town to find out Women old and leacherous, (very usually) and soon ingratiares himself into their Society, by telling them they look younger, and younger, (which they believe before he told them so) then perswades them to go in Habits more youthful; if Teeth are wanting, he supplies them; if the Head be bald, he hath Tours in store of all sorts; if the Face be pale and wrinkled, he hath Paint [Page] to plaister up the chaps, or fill those deep furrows Age hath plow'd up; if the Breath stink, and the (scarce moving) Carkass be foetid, he hath Pastils to perfume the one, and Essences to sweeten the other; by these Artifices he assuredly helps her to an Husband or a Stallion, and is well satisfied for dealing with such rotten Commodities.

By these ridiculous perswasions he wins the heart of these old Dotards to give him a present Boon, knowing, or guessing at least, that they hardly have so much time left, as might be taken up in writing their last Wills and Testaments.

Of AUDACITY.

MR. Wheedle pretends to an intimate acquaintance with this Passion too, but he mistakes it, by calling or nick-naming Audacity by that of convenient Boldness, as he terms it, which in plain English is Impudence; he will thrust himself into any strange company without enquiry who they are; for the better benefit of exercising his Pride, that he may be thought some great man, or at least a man of some authority; haply he may by his Wheedling and Insinuation, get into some beneficial employment, and then he straight changeth his face upon this preferment, because his own was not [Page] bred to it. His actions and countenance seem to strive which should bespeak how much he is; now, if you chance not to mind him, 'tis ten to one he will mind you, and give you to understand how remiss you are in your non-observance, and will take pains to do it, that all the company may take notice of it, and concludes every period with his Place; much like a Constable that was in Office upon his Sacred Majesties Restauration, who for some years after, seldom mist in his Discourse, frequently to repeat what he had seen at such a time, he being then Constable, but mistook most abominably at last, saying, When his Majesty had the honour to come through the City, I was Constable that time.

Whilst you have any thing to use him in, take notice you are his Vassal for that time, and must give him the patience of any injury, which he does to show what he may do. In this condition, whilst you are necessitated for his help, he will snap you up most imperiously, not for any reason, but because he will be offended, and tells you, that you are sawcy and troublesom, and sometimes takes your mony in that language. In short, he is a man of little merit, and makes out in Pride and Impudence, what he wants in worth, fencing himself with a stately kind of Behaviour from that contempt would pursue him.

[Page] This is a Fellow, whom I may call more Fool than Wheedle, for he that endeavors to raise himself higher and higher in worldly estimation must wrap up Ambition and Pride in the Mantle of pretended Humility; by seeming to adore Superiours, condescending to Equals, and by an even deportment to Inferiours.

If Mr. Wheedle come from Sea, or pretends to have been there; (where note he is Jack of all Trades, and free of most Mysteries, Professions, and Occupations) I say, if he would have the World believe that he is a Stout man, there is no man truly Valiant will say, he is half so much indued with Fortitude and Audacity as himself, and since he knows not how to give any other proof there of than words, he proclaims himself the invincible Sir Frederick Fight-all, Captain Al-Man-Sir,—By your leave friend H. C: one Paragraph of your Coffee-house Character is so proper to this purpose, and so Satyrical, sharp, and witty, that at first I thought to have turn'd Paper-Pad, and rob'd you; but upon second thoughts I lookt upon that course ignoble to a friend, when he may have the liberty to borrow.

I say, this Wheedling Huff, that needs would be Captain,—I know not what, Is the Man of Mouth, with a Face as blustering as that of Eolus, and his four Sons in Painting, and a voice louder than the Speaking-Trumpet; he begins you the Story [Page] of a Sea-Fight; and though he were never by water farther than the Bear-garden, or Cuckolds-Haven, yet having pyrated the names of Ships and Captains, he perswades you himself was present, and performed Miracles; that he waded Knee-deep in blood on the upper Deck, and never thought Serenade to his Mistress so pleasant, as the Bullets whistling; how he stopt a Vice-Admiral of the Enemies under full Sail, till she was boarded, with his single Arm instead of Grapling-Irons, and puft out with his breath a Fire-ship that fell foul on them. All this he relates sitting in a Cloud of Smoak, and belching so many Cannon-Oaths to vouch it, you can scarce guess whether the real Engagement, or his Romancing account of it be the more dreadful. However, he concludes with railing at the Conduct of some eminent Officers, (that perhaps he never saw) and protests, had they taken his advice at a Council of War, not a Sail had escaped us.

How ridiculously doth this Fool mistake himself, thinking by his bouncing, to leap into the reputation of a valiant Man, whereas on the contrary, the wise will look on him no more than a Lyar, and consequently a Coward: True Valour never speaks much of it self. He must then have some other design in the venting of his Rhodomontado's, which this way cannot be great, but creeping on all four like his fortune: it may be the relation of what dreadful things he [Page] hath seen, may squeeze a dinner or a drunken bout out of some, who have spent most of their time in reading Books of Chivalry, and therefore love to hear of bloody exploits; dulce bellum Inexpertis: it may be another upon the supposition of his being a desperate man may be threatned, or frightned out of the loan of a Crown, but using it too often, the other is forced to be rid of him at last by trying his valour, and in the contest finds him what he is made of, a meer man to look on.

I like his subtlety well in following Natures dictates, making use of what ever tends to self-preservation, knowing what dangers men are cal'd to, who are the true Professors of Fortitude and Audacity; fighting is her ordinary exercise, and she often times bathes her self in tears or Blood; she is always encompassed with dangers, and on what side soever she turns, she sees nothing but ghastly images, fearful apparitions; these are fights his timerous Soul will not permit him once to look on. To conclude, he looks on the actions of the Valiant to be little less than the effects of Madness, and will never venture farther than his safety will permit him.

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Of ANGER.

THere are few errors which men commit, but have their excuses attending them, and perrsist in the disorders, not only for the esteem they place upon them, but like wise for the Rationality which seems to back, and justify them: thus the Angry, and Cholerick prosecutes his revenge, because it is sweet in the exceution, though bitter afterwards, and he thinks it both Reason and Justice to right himself when wrong'd: the Incontinent excuse themselves upon their weakness, and call their continual active Leachery, an Infirmity. Detractors have their pretences too, for what opprobriums, and calumnies they utter against others: now Revenge and Choler, believing themselves to be grounded upon Reason, demean themselves insolently, and would perswade us that all their excursions are as just, as couragious and valiant: This he confidently believes, and he cannot be his friend that disswades him out of that opinion; he hugs himself in it, and our Wheedle comes, and embraceth them both therein; there is no way for him to bring about his end, but floating with him in that Torrent, which is to no boot to oppose; for it bears down all before it. He subtlely insinuates into his Ear the gallantry, and legality of this unjust passion: because it is used, and too too much [Page] practised, among Great Ones: he tells him further, that it cannot but be noble and generous; because it frequently dwels in the Breasts of Dukes, Earls, Kings, and Emperours; and then slily commends Alexander, for being so Passionate, and revengful, as not to spare his dearest friends when in his wrath, and imputes all his Victories to that rash Passion; inferring further, that though some condemn him for rashness, yet none can deny, but that he was fortunate in it: these things so tickle that humour, which he can't but follow, that no man pleaseth him more than he that suggests them.

Such like flatteries, and insinuations with great Men make them require from their Inferiours such shameful obsequiousness to their inordinate desires, that they become offended with a just liberty among their Equals. They take good advice for neglect, and rational Counsels for an undermining of their Authority. Fortune hath made them so tender, as Suspitions serve them for proofs to condemn the Innocent. O what excellent work doth the Wheedle make with such a Person; he knows that the truth is odious to him, and he cannot bear with fidelity in his Domesticks; he will not swallow down a Truth unless corrupted, which the Wheedle prepares according to his fancy; and the temper of his mind is so low, and weak, that sincerity in a servant is [Page] able to offend him; for he thinks there is some design against his Honour, when his faults are reprehended, and though it be done in the most circumspect and mildest manner imaginable, yet it is always taken by him for an injury, or affront. To please him in the removal of these faithful Tel-troths, and to serve himself in his future designs, the Wheedle inveighs against them, accuseth them of sauciness, ambition, indiscretion, and what not, till he hath rooted them out of the family, in whose places he introduceth flattering insinuating Rascals, who will say, and swear any thing, and are more his Creatures, than their Masters: thus working on that Choler, which transports him, he makes him know (it may be when it is too late) that his Greatness, is meet Weakness, and that at length the Man's the Master.

Here by the way, give me leave to tell how the She Wheedle operates, and kneads this Passion, (where know that there are as many female Wheedles in their several Functions, and Occupation as Male.)

When she meets with any, who subject themselves to her power, and patiently suffer themselves to be born away by her motions, she then takes the liberty, and freedom to fly at all, and believes she may promise her self any thing from a Slave, who can refuse her nothing: If she possess the Soul of a Great Man, or a Man of a great [Page] Estate, who hath neither Resolution nor Courage sufficient to defend himself against her Tyranny, she makes use of the weakness of his mind and the strength of his purse, to execute her designs; the subtlety of her wit penetrates the grossness of his, and makes the Dung-hill of his little understanding manure and fatten her barren Land, and seizing on his head, she takes Possession of the whole man, and converts him and his appurtenances (as much as she can) to her own proper use and benefit.

Much more might be spoken of such like intrigues, which I relate not, as I approve, or would have any imitate the Wheedles endeavours, but condemn their designs; for if he that commits a fault is not innocent, he that provokes one to it, must be faulty; the one commences the Crime, and the other finishes it, and both are alike guilty: the one makes a Challenge (as in this case) and the other Accepts it; the second is not more just, than the first, save that the injury he hath received serves for a pretence to another.

Of Delight or Pleasure.

WHat Epicurus innocently, and with a good intent proposed to men, viz. the enjoyment of Pleasure, our Wheedle following the Example of his debauched Disciples, doth beastly, and knavishly abuse.

[Page] The Sect of the Epicureans taking notice of the difficulty which attended Virtue, which made her hated, and condemned by vulgar, lazy, terrene Souls, and that the labour that went to the acquisition thereof, made them lose the longing after her, they strove to perswade them, that she was pleasant, and delightsom; upon their word, some began to court her, and thinking to find all manner of delight, and pleasure in her Retinue, they made their amorous addresses to Madam Virtue; but, finding nothing about her which made any impression upon the senses, they chang'd their design, and made Love to Voluptuousness. Of which Sect our Wheedle is Master of Art; not that he was ever a true Disciple of Epicurus, who would never have proposed Voluptuousness to men, but to make them in love with Virtue; yet, because his design was unhappy, and met not with desired success, he could not avoid calumny; and the Zeal of his Adversaries confounded his Opinion with his Disciples Errour.

This voluptuous Wheedle hath his Disciples too, and are rankt under several Classes; The Whoremaster, Drunkard, Glutton, Gamster, Pimp, Bawd, Whore, Cuff and Kick, Bully, Huff, Bully Ruffin, the Sloathful, the Ambitions, the Conceited, the Lascivious, the Affected, the Coward, the Impudent, the Ignorant, the Insolent, with many more.

[Page] For the instruction of his Disciples, he hath many Schools, or Academies, viz. Taverns, Bawdyhouses, or Coffee-houses, Inns, Ale-houses, Gardinhouses, Ordinaries, Tennis-courts, &c. and his Desks to write upon are a Pair of Tables, Shuffleboards, or Billiard-tables, &c.

When he hath a mind to instruct his Scholars abroad, he then turns Peripatetick, and walks them to Bowling-greens, Bowling-allies, nay Pidgeonholes, Nin-pin-allyes, or for further exercise to Whetstones-park; but of these more hereafter.

When he intends to take the fresh air, Hidepark is no small advantage to him; on a fair Mayday he repairs thither, as to a Mart, where he picks up more Baubles, than at Bartholomew-Fair, or our Ladies in South-wark; and the Lodge is his grand Shop, where he takes up all sorts of Comodities upon trust; the Coaches are his Movingstands, where he furnisheth some of his Customers with plenty of Linnen, only for taking up; others pay so dearly for it, that it proves their Shrowds, or Winding-sheets. Here he picks out and culls the men on Horse-back, and by slight of hand with wonderful celerity, dismounts their Georgies; or shuffles in among the dusty, sweaty, Rabble, and will venture the defiling of his cloaths, to guild his pockets: not an Apple-woman shall escape him, but he will-reap some Fruit of her. In this promiscuous Rendez-vouz of different people, [Page] he indifferently lays his baits for all, and if he tickle not a Trout, he will infallibly catch some Gudgeon.

His greatest Mart, and longest of continuance, is Epsom, or Tunbridge Wells, where (blind-fold) he cannot miss of Misses enough to mislead, and of Males to unman for his profit. The first he picks up for his amorous Disciples; both pay him Custom for Procuration; he rarely uses them himself, yet no Woman hater, but hates the Woman, that with her Milk will not give down her Mony. On the latter he exercises himself by diving into their humours, and that he may not be lookt upon as unsociable, he shews himself conformable unto them. He comes not there only to drink Physical Waters, but inflaming intoxicating Wine; not but that he drinks them too, for fashion sake, and to pick up company; and having delug'd their guts with that cold insipid stuff, and dung'd the neighbouring land with yellow Marle, vulgarly called excrement; he tells them of that imminent danger of a Quartan, which attends them if they warm not speedily their chil'd, and benum'd body with a glass of wine, briskly going round.

They agree, and by a general consent the glass doth freely pass about, and none so seemingly free to drink as Mr. Wheedle, but by shifting his Wine, he keeps his head less annoy'd with [Page] fumes, whilst the others, inspired with extravagant fancies, betray their humours to his observation, and so become a prey to his Stratagems. The Proverb saith, When the Wine is in, the Wit is out, which they find next Morning by wofull experience; having nothing left them, but their Ears standing. For when the blood is heated by the overflowing wine, which the Wheedle observes by the face, or discourse, a game at Tables is then proposed; if that dislike, then Cards are produced; or formonies quick dispatch, Box and Dice Nicks them infallibly. For variety a Game at Nine-pins must not be despised, wherein the Wheedle is so dexterous, and so skillful at it, that he will not fail once in five times to knock down a single pin, throwing the Bowl over an house, and, though on horse-back, tip down all Nine so certain, and so often, as to make the Looser swear, the Wheedle hath put false Nine-pins on him.

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On Tunbridge-Wells.

AT five this Morn, when Phoebus rais'd his head

From Thetis Lap, I rais'd my self from bed,

And mounting Steed, I trotted to the Waters,

The Rendez-vouz of feign'd, or sickly Praters,

Cuckolds, Whores, Citizens, their Wives and Daughters,

My squeamish Stomach I with Wine had brib'd,

To undertake the Dose it was prescrib'd;

But turning head, a sudden noisom view

(That Innocent provision over-threw)

And without drinking, made me Purge, and Spew.

Looking on t'other side a thing I saw,

Who (some men said.) could handle Sword and Law.

It stalkt, it star'd, and up and down did strut,

And seem'd as furious as a Stagg at Rut.

As wise as Calf, it lookt, as big, as Bully,

But bandled, prov'd a meer Sir Nich'las Cully.

A Bawling Fop, a natural Noaks, and yet,

He dar'd to censure, as if he had Wit.

In short, no malice need on him be thrown,

Nature has done the business of Lampoon,

And in his looks, his Character hath shown.

Endeavouring this irksom sight to baulk,

And a more irksom noise his silly talk,

I silently slunk down to th' Lower VValk.

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But often, when one would Carybdis shun,

Down upon Scylla 'tis ones fate to run:

So here it was my cursed Fate to find

As great a Fop, though of another kind;

A tall stiff Fool, who walkt in Spanish guise;

The Buckram Poppet never stir'd it's eyes,

But grave as Owl it lookt, as VVoodcock wise.

He scorn'd the empty talking of this Age,

And spoke all Proverb, Sentence and Adage,

A man of parts, and yet he can dispence

VVith the formality of speaking sense.

From hence unto the upper end I ran,

Where a new Scene of foppery began,

Amongst the serious, and Phanatick Elves:

(Fit company for none, besides themselves.)

Assembled thus, each his Distemper told,

Scurvy, Stone, Stranguery. Some were so bold

To charge the Spleen to be their Misery,

And on the wise Disease bring infamy.

But none were half so Modest to complain,

Their want of Learning, Honesty and Brain,

The general diseases of that Train.

These call themselves Embassadors of Heav'n,

And saucily pretend Commissions giv'n,

But should an Indian King, whose small command,

Seldom extends above ten miles of Land,

Send forth such wretched Fools in an Embassage,

He'd sind but small effects of such a Message.

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Next after these a foolish whining Crew

Of Sisters frail were offer'd to my view.

The things did talk, but th' hearing what they said,

I did my self the kindness to evade.

Looking about, I saw some Gypsies too,

(Faith Brethren they can Cant as well as you.)

Nature hath plac'd these VVretches beneath scorn,

They can't be call'd so vil'd, as they are born.

Amidst the crowd, next I my self convay'd,

For now were come (White-wash, & paint being laid)

Mother and Daughters, Mistress and the Maid,

And Squire with VVigg and Pantaloons display'd,

But ne're could Conventicle, Play or Fair

For a true Medley with this Herd compare.

Here Squires, Ladies, (and some say) Countesses,

Chandlers, Egg, Bacon-women and Semstresses

Were mixt together, nor did they agree

More in their humours, than their quality.

Here waiting for Gallant young Damsel stood,

Leaning on Cane, and muffled up in hood.

The VVould-be-wit, whose business was to woo,

With that remov'd, and solemn scrape of shoo

Advanceth bowing, then gentilely shrugs,

And ruffled Foretop into order Tugs.

And thus accosts her, Madam, methinks the weather

Is grown much more serene, since you came hither.

You influence the heav'ns; and should the Sun

With-draw himself to see his rays out-done,

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Your brighter Eyes could then supply the Morn,

And make a Day, before a Day be born.

With mouth scru'd up, conceited winking eyes,

And breasts thrust forwards, Lord, Sir, she replyes,

It is your goodness, and not my deserts,

Which makes you show this Learning, Wit and Parts,

He Puzl'd, bites his nail, both to display

The sparkling Ring, and think what next to say.

And thus breaks forth afresh, Madam, I Gad,

Your luck at Cards last Night was very bad.

At Cribidge fifty nine, and the next show

To make the game, and yet to want those two.

Gad Damme, Madam, I'm the Son of a Whore,

If in my life I saw the like before.

Tir'd with this dismal stuff, away I ran

Where were two Wives with Girls just fit for Man,

Short Breath'd, with pallid Lips, and Visage wan.

Some Court'sies past, and the old Complement

Of being glad to see each other, spent,

With hand in hand they lovingly did walk,

And one began thus to renew the talk.

I pray (Good Madam) if it may be thought

No Rudeness, what cause was it hither brought

Your Ladyship? She soon replying, smil'd,

We have a good Estate, but have no Child;

And I'm inform'd these Wells will make a barren

Woman, as fruitful as a Coney-warren.

The first return'd, for this cause I am come,

For I can have no quietness at home:

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My Husband grumbles, though we have got one,

This poor young Girl, and mutters for a Son.

Is't so (quoth t'other) faith, I pity then

Your Husband much, and all such sapless Men.

Poor foolish Fribbles, who by subtlety

Of Midwife (truest Friend to Lechery)

Perswaded are to be at pains and charge,

To give their Wives occasion to enlarge

Their silly heads; for here walk Cuff and Kick,

Who wait for Women, or lay wait to Nick.

From these the Waters got the Reputation,

Of good Assistants unto Generation.

Now Warlike men were got into the throng,

With hair ty'd back, singing a Bawdy Song.

Not much afraid, I got a nearer view,

And 'twas my chance to know the dreadful Crew;

Who are (though gaudily they thus appear)

Damn'd to the stint of Thirty pound a year.

With Hawk on fist, or Greyhound led in hand;

The Dogs and Foot-boys they command.

And having trim'd a cast off Spavind-horse;

With three hard pincht for Guinnys in the Purse;

Two rusty Pistols, Scarf about the Arse,

Coat lin'd with Red, they here presume to swell;

This goes for Captain, that for Colonel.

So the Bear-Garden-Ape on his Steed mounted,

No longer is a Jackanapes accounted,

But is by virtue of his Trumpery, then

Call'd by the Name of the Young Gentleman.

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Bless me thought I, what thing is man, that thus

In all his Shapes he is ridiculous?

Our selves with noise of Reason we do please,

In vain Humanity is our worst disease.

Thrice happy Beasts are, who because they be

Of Reason void, are so of Foppery.

Troth I was so asham'd, that with remorse,

I us'd the Insolence to mount my Horse;

For He doing only things fit for his Nature,

Did seem to me (by much) the Wiser Creature.

The next things we shall insist upon must necessarily be the Passions, which are opposit to the six former we have already discourst of; the first was Love, and its contrary is

HATRED.

IF the Wheedle were an universal good, he would love every particular good, and were he endued with all the perfections that are found in all men, he would find none that would contrary him; but he is unjust, because he is poor, and his aversion takes its original from his Poverty. Hatred then, as it is a weakness in his Nature, so it is a proof of his indigence, and a Passion which he cannot with Reason employ against any of his Fellow-Creatures, nor irritate, or provoke one against the other, for any selfish design.

[Page] Self-love is a considerable Propagator of this disorder; for were he more regulate in his affections, he would be more moderate in his aversions, and not consulting his own interests he would hate nothing, but what is truly odious; but he is so unjust as to judge of things only by the credit he bears them, condemning them when they displease, and approving them when they like; he would have them change qualities too, according to his several humours, that, like Chamelions they should assume his Colours, and accomodate themselves to his desires; nay he would be (if it were possible) the Center of the World, and that all Creatures should have no other Inclinations than what he possesseth. Whatsoever is most fair, seems ugly to him, if it likes him not; the bright beams of Virtue dazle his eyes, because that Virtue condemns his faults; and Truth becomes the object of his Hatred, because she censures his Lyings, Flatteries and abominations.

To conclude he loves none, but whom he may gain by, and hates all that any way impede, or obstruct his crafty designs; yet he carries his hatred to all so closely, that Revenge shall be executed before any discovery can be made, and knows how to excuse it too to the offended, & by throwing the fault on some other of his supposed foes, obtains the benefit of a double Revenge. In [Page] short he loves himself so well that he can be a real friend to none, and the best way to secure your self from him, is to have no correspondence with him; but if you needs must, let him never enter into a familiarity with you, and then like the Adder, losing his forked Sting, his Love, and Hatred will be useless, and ineffectual: The next Passion we treated on was Desire and its opposit, is,

Eschewing, or Shunning.

SInce punishment is more sensible than Vice, it is eschew'd with the greater care and fear, and there are few People who do not rather love to be faulty, than unfortunate. We run from an infected City in such Droves, as if we were going to defend the Fronteers from some Forreign invasion, and a Lord have mercy on us writ on a door, will make us go a mile about to shun the infection, and yet we draw near to all sorts of bad and infectious Company, so long, till the Lord knows what will become of us. Pestilential Infections may work an alteration in our health, but evil Society will tob us of our innocency. Good natures by compliance to company are frequently depraved, and though they have a natural love to good things, yet the Wheedle by contrary suggestions choaks those [Page] honest desires, for he never gets by Virtue; it is Vice that is the Iackawl which finds him out his sustenance, and to this end he defends Vice, who to enlarge the Empire thereof, endeavours to make it appear lovely and glorious; but he hath a special care not to show her by daylight, he hids her in dark and obscure places, and none but complices are witnesses of her beauty. Sometimes the Wheedle with his other Partakers, will raise her on a Throne, and use their utmost craft to win her glory; they cover it with the Mantle of Virtue, and if it hath any thing of affinity with its Enemy, by changing names, they make one pass for the other; thus Revenge they call greatness of courage: Incontinency, Natures irresistable commands, &c. and no wonder if the ignorant are deluded with these false titles, when the best Wits suffer themselves to be perswaded and led away by their loose and lewd Reasons.

In a word all that the Wheedle can act as to this Passion is to hinder men from loving Virtue, and to stop their desires in seeking after her, and by his evil Counsel lead them a quite different way, teaching them to lay traps for chastity; prompting them to pleasure, exciting to Choler, and at last losing all shame and fear they give freedom to all their Passions, to their utter ruine and destruction.

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OF DESPAIR.

MAny are the advantages which men make of Hope, buoying it up in others, for their own particular advantage: but as to the contrary Passion, Despair, I know not what use the Wheedle can make of it, unless it be to perswade some of his Rich Relations to hang themselves, as a Father or an elder Brother, or a perverse peevish wife, whom he would have to quit the stage of the world, that another (whom he hath already unlawfully chosen) may act her part with him in her stead.

But now if we rightly consider the nature of Despair, we shall find it doth as well prompt us to consult our preservation, as precipitate us into destruction; Let others, when threatned with some great disaster, or involved amongst a thousand intollerable Evils, lay violent hands on themselves, this VVheedle will make another use of this Passion; for he prudently observes that as this Passion takes men off from the pursuit of a difficult good which surpasseth their power, so are there a thousand occasions met withal in mans life, wherein she may be advantagiously made use of, and there is no condition how great so ever in this world, which needs not her asistance. For mens powers are limitted, [Page] and the Greater part of their designs are very difficult, or impossible; Hope and Audacity which animate them, have more of heat than government; Led on by these blind Guides they would throw themselves headlong into precipices, did not Despair withhold them, and by knowing their weaknesses, divert them from their rash enterprizes: Hope engageth us too easily in a danger, but then we must praise Despair which finds a means to free us from it.

Our Wheedle always implores the assistance of Despair before things are gone too far, and reduced to an extremity. If Princes took this course, and so measure their forces before they undertake a war, they would not be enforced to make a dishonourable peace. If they know their forces inferiour to those of their enemies, whereby the advantage lyes not on their side, Despair, wisely managed, causeth them to retreat, and this Passion repairing the faults of Hope and Audacity makes them keep their Soldiers till another time, when they may assuredly promise themselves the Victory; for Despair is more cautious than couragious, and aims more at the safety than glory of a Nation.

In short, these are the two Principal uses are to be made of this Passion. First, Despair in its birth is fearful, and hath no other design than to divert the Soul from the vain seeking [Page] after an impossible good; this is a great piece of prudence and policy, to keep aloof from a difficult good, which we think we cannot compass. Secondly, and lastly, when the mischief is extream, and the danger is so great as it cannot be evaded, then must we make a Virtue of necessity, and give battail to an enemy, which Hope it self durst not assail, it often plucks the Lawrel from the Conquerours head, and performs actions which may pass for Miracles.

Of FEAR.

NAture seems to have given us two Passions (Hope and Fear) for our Counsellours in the diverse adventures of our life; the first is without doubt more pleasing, but Fear, the second, is more faithful; Hope flatters, to deceive us; Fear frightens, to secure us. For Fear is natural wisdom, which frequently frees us from danger by making us apprehensive thereof; thence we grow shye, and affrightned with the evils she discovers: She studies not what is past, save only to know what is to come, and she governs the present time, only to assure her self of the future, which draws along with it a prodigious train of adventures, which cause a thousand alterations in Individual men; so as suturity is the chief object of wisdom, which considers [Page] the other differences of time, only that she may the better judge of this. The time to come is as doubtful, as conceal'd, and therefore it behoves every man to look out sharply to foresee a danger approaching, and to avoid it; to discern a little Cloud, but a hands breadth, which brings a storm with it next akin to an Hurricane.

Much may be said of this prudent, and provident Passion, but I shall refer you to those who have writ largely upon that subject, and pass to another sort of fear, which some call Cowardise, of which the Wheedle must have a special care he seem not guilty, or tainted therewith: if he be, farewel all plots, and crafty projects, for he will be the contempt of all men, and be like a Foot-ball kickt from Parish to Parish, till they have lost him.

To prevent this insufferable mischief, the Wheedle (though the rankest Coward living) must indeavor by all means imaginable to seem Stout and Couragious; he must look big, and his Speech must be conformable; he must continually make the Coward the subject of his raillery, and yet have a care of provoking the man that will fight: Amongst innocent harmless things he may thunder where he is sure no danger, or mischief will ensue, and Lighten the reckoning on them in conclusion: this way of hussing (with the dreadful appearance of a Toledo blade) [Page] hath made many a tame Fop go home without ever a penny in his pocket, well contended, and glad he came off so, though they made him swallow so many false Dice, as had like to have choakt him, and not satisfied with this, gave him the Box to boot. In the next place I should treat of Choler and Sorrow, which last Passion is in opposition to Delight, but I shall desist, having spoak already of them in those Chapters which contain the Temperaments.

The Policy of the Passions briefly sum'd up.

SInce Men by Nature are addicted to Conversation, and one dependeth upon another, therefore it is a business of importance for a man to know how to second or cross other mens affections, how we may please, or displease them; making them our Friends, or Enemies: but since the Subject is infinite, I will only set down some general Rules, whereby the Wheedle makes his advantage in all Societies what ever.

First all men (commonly) are pleas'd with them whom they see affected with those Passions whereunto they are subject and inclined. The reason of this Rule is this; all likeliness causeth love; it follows therefore that he who would advantagiously please must apparel himself with the affections of them he converseth withal; love, [Page] where they love, and hate, where they hate, no matter whether real or pretended; soothing of other mens humours (so that it be not discovered to be Flattery) is the path that leads men into an universal friendship, and how advantagious a general friendship is, I will leave it to any one to judge; out of this Rule may be deduced this

Second, which ought no less to be observed in conversation than the former; that men usually hate those, who they know to be of contrary Passions; hence comes that Proverb, He that hateth whom I love, how can he love me? Fire and fire may, but fire and water will never agree.

Thirdly credulity must be avoided, having danger continually for its attendant, and yet there must be a seeming belief; as we must not believe every thing, so we must have a care of believing nothing that is said; there is a mediocrity to be observed, you may hear and say (in a thing that is very doubtful) it may be so, but never conclude any thing to be so, till you have evident demonstrations thereof before your eyes; a crafty proposal (weli backt) may make a man believe things contrary to sense, and reason; wherefore it behoves every man to stand upon his guard when an overture of advantage is made: every man is for himself, and he that hath attain'd to the greatest height in the Art of Perswasion, is capable [Page] of Out-Wheedling all the rest.

Fourthly, let judgment be suspended where a question is demanded, or evaded, and put off upon some other, by whose arguments you may find his weakness, and means to strengthen your own.

Fifthly, There is no opposing any vehement Passion by reprehension, or indignation; the Wheedle always complies with it, or says nothing, or wisely withdraws the matter of anger out of sight.

Sixthly, no man ought to be employ'd to any Office, nor put upon any design, act, or exercise contraty to his humour, passion, and inclination. This observation very much concerns all sorts of Persons, in all Professions, and Occupations; Masters in the employment of Servants; Parents in the education of their Children; Schoolmasters in the instruction of their Scholars; Vide Examen d'los Ingenios; the Trial of Wits in English, &c. and every one knows a Play must be rightly cast, or it cannot be so well acted, as to Merit an Applause.

Seventhly, and this Rule hath a respect to great Persons, who seldom resist their Passions, therefore if a man once understand their inordinate affections, he may be very well assured to have gained much ground in prevailing with them. Whosoever then intends to work upon [Page] such a person addicted to this or that affection, to win upon him, he must foster up such fancies in him; if delighted in Musick, he must furnish him with Voices, or instruments; if Venereally inclined, Pimp for him, and prostitute his Wife, rather than lose an opportunity for preferment; if he delights in riding, he must play the Iockey, and show him horses well shaped, far Fetcht and dear Bought; if in hunting, he must procure him Dogs; If he disesteems his own Country-breed, he must present to his View such as are really so, yet must swear that they were stoln from several Noblemen in France, brought hither with great labour and expence, and for no other intent than his Recreation. If his delight consist in books, he must bring him the Annual Catalogues of Franckfort Mart, or what are printed elswhere, that out of them all he may pick what is most agreable to his study; and if he have so much ingenie to play the part of a cunning Bookseller, he may recommend waste paper for commendable pieces, and with a little prejudice to the Buyers time, he shall not only have the large thanks of the Seller, for vending his bad commodities but reap some more substantial benefit to himself.

To these general Rules let me add these cautions, which ought to be imprinted in all mens memories.

[Page] Before the Ingenious, and Judicious, beware of showing either Extravagancy, or Stupidity.

Before the Wise, or Considerate, seem not Heedless or Sottish.

Before the Prudent, and well advised, seem neither Simple, nor Crafty.

Before the Diligent, be neither Slothful, nor over hasty.

Before Just and Honest men, be not Mischievous.

Before the Modest, be not Bold, or Impudent.

Before the Temperate, be not Immoderate.

Before the Religious, be not Profain or Impious.

Before the Faithful, and the down-right man, avoid Flattery.

Before the Affable, and the Civil, show no Rusticity.

Before the Continent, be not Petulant.

Before the Liberal, be not Avaritious, or Covetous.

Before the Compassionate, show no symptoms of Cruelty.

Before the Frugal, be not Prodigal.

Before the Moderate, be not Voluptuous.

Before the Humble, or Ambitious, be not Proud, or Lofty.

Before the Magnanimous, be not Presumptuous, or Pusillanimous.

[Page] Before the Cheerful, be not Sowr, or austere.

Before the Serious, play not the Mimick, or Buffoon.

Some Centuries of such like Sentences might be here inserted, which I pretermit for brevity sake; hastning to the discovery of the practices of the several Wheedles of the times, according to each Sex and Profession; but before I enter upon it, I shall conclude the preceding Theory with a short account of Conversation.

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CHAP. XII. Of Acquaintance and Conversation.

SOciety is that which is coveted, and desired by all Creatures, nothing in the Creation is averse to it, but the Melancholick, the malignity of whose humour and solitary inclination renders him unfit to live, being so incongruous to the sociable Inhabitants of the Vniverse. Rather than be absolutely alone, Ovid said it was something to live with sharp and cruel winds.

Scilicet est aliquid cum Saevis vivere ventis.

But how dangerous a thing it is to venture into a general acquaintance, every one knows that hath been accounted a Company-keeper. It is not the Multitude of Acquaintance, but the goodness thereof should be coveted, and it is impossible but he must be soil'd with Vice, who runs into all Companies: this was it which made Seneca thus complain; Avarior redeo, ambitiosior, imo crudelior, & inhumanior quia inter homines fui.

But what cares our Wheedle with whom he associates, they cannot be worse than himself; he cares not what their Vices are, so that he can extract the best benefit from them; and the [Page] larger his acquaintance is the better for him, having more variety of subiects to work upon, and his comfort is, he cannot want them, since there is nothing easier than to create them; the meer being in company once doth it, and this shall be reason sufficient for him, if he meet the Person some years after, to shake him by the hand, and with a counterfeit countenance of joy embracing him, invite him to the Tavern, where ten to one he makes him pay the reckoning for this unexpected salutation: if he will be borrowing money of him, there is no better way for that Person that would be rid of him, than to lend him some; for, this shall keep him at a greater distance with his Creditor, than if his constant Companions were Pox, Pestilential Bubo's, and a thousand Carbuncles: not but that he will borrow mony sometime for no other end than to pay it exactly according to time prefixt, that by his honest punctuality he may have a better opportunity of borrowing a greater Sum, of which he never intends to pay a farthing.

Acquaintance is the first draught of those whom he designs to make his friends, and lays them down often before him, as the foul Copy before he can write perfect and true; from hence, as from a Probation, he takes his degree in Mens respects, till at last he wholly possess them: by this means he impropriates, and encloses to [Page] himself what before lay in common to others. The ordinary use of acquaintance is but somewhat a more boldness in Society, a Copartnership in discourse, News, Mirth, Meat, and Recreation; but our Wheedle makes a further advantage by making all these subservient to some design, according to the nature of them. For, as to discourse, the gingling words of others don't delight him so much as their giddy brains; and no talk so pleasant, as that which detects the intrigues of other men; he is then all Ear, and if he speak it is but to provoke others to talk on for further discovery: if he talk himself, it is with submission to the company, and concludes that condescention with Your faithful friend, and Servant, and being gon never thinks of any of them, but when he must use them, or stands in need of their assistance. Next as to News, he finds it more beneficial to him than an Office of Intelligence to others, and picks thence more beneficial matter, than if he had pickt up in the Street Rings, Watches, &c. so often mentioned in the Gazette to have been casually dropt, and lost: as to meat, drink, mirth and recreation he makes them not only satisfy Nature, and please the Senses, but he makes them also instrumental in cloathing the body, and that not meanly, as occasion shall require; and this is a thing so easily to be done, that in this case, I judge it [Page] needless to demonstrate it in what manner.

Friendship, like Children, is engendred by a more inward mixture, and coupling together; wherefore when the Wheedle intends an invasion on the Secrets of other mens hearts, he first discovers some of his own (of no great consequence) with a thousand injunctions, and engagements not to discover the least tittle thereof to any Soul living; by this he engages the other to a bold discovery of his own faults, Passions, and Vicious inclinations, his fear, shame, and, it may be, something that may tend to the ruin of the Relator, if it be discovered, which the Wheedle vows shall never be so done by him till death, nor then neither; yet, for this unadvised folly he will be sure to make him his slave all the days of his life, and fear shall so shackle him, that he must neither displease, nor deny him any thing that lyes within the Verge of his estates ability. A Secret, when discover'd, no longer is our own, but his that hears it, and is no longer his than there is a compliance with the humour of that Person: at length being prostituted by two many owners, it becomes the shame, and infamy of the first imprudent Guardian.

Much more might be said of Acquaintance, the subject being very large; now to avoid prolixity I shall skip from this, and fall upon the next branch of this Chapter, viz. Conversation, [Page] which renders men sociable, and makes up the greatest commerce of our lives, and therefore we cannot take too much care to render our discourse pleasing, and profitable.

It is not my intent to discover the means conducible to make every man (justly) succesful in conversation, but I will only declare (as briefly, as I may) what course the Wheedle undertakes to make his designs hit, according to the nature of those Persons with whom he hath converse. He hath (or ought to have) a Memory inricht with variety of matter, in conjunction with such a Judgment, that may both regulate his speech, and engage him to view with circumspection what he is obliged to observe: for Example sake; would it not be ridiculous instead of amorous courtship to entertain a young Lady with School-boy questions, as what is Latin for a Dripping-pan, and Greek for a Pair of Tongs; or to talk of nothing for an hour together to a Quaker, but what rare sport there was the other day at the Bear-Garden, or, to tell him what excellent Scenes there are in Macbeth, and the late rectified inimitable Tempest? Things as incongruous to some company I have seen brought in by head and shoulders in discourse, but the Wheedle taking notice what great offence it gave, and how tedious, and intollerable such talk was to those whose humours were at enmity with such [Page] Conversation, keeps aloof from this dangerous way of speaking, and takes a course not to displease, by talking well upon that subject he understands, (it not, to be silent) and likewise by taking special notice of the Time, and Place wherein he doth discourse, and in that, as all men ought to have a regard to Truth, he does not, yet loves it well in others: he holds this as one principal Article in his Creed, that none can thrive apace, and prosper without a continual dissimulation, and profession of never speaking his thoughts aright; so far he may be excused, that if he is about some good Employ, or some advantagious design by Bargain or Sale, &c. I hold it not requisit, nay ridiculous, if he proclaim his pretentions, or discover the means he intends to use for advantage; for should he be so indiscreet he then would give light to others to anticipate, and prejudice his projections. A prudent dissimulation is allowable, especially of some dangerous truth, when the effects of it will be only an unseasonable exasperation, and perhaps draw upon our selves, Envy, Hate, or Contempt. It is the continuallying and dissimulation that must be condemn'd, and hated, if for no other Reason, than that in process of time no man will believe its constant Practiser; for though he caress well, promise much, be civil, and obliging; yet, by his frequent lying, he will at length be found [Page] out; then will all his actions be narrowly scan'd, and by them found to be as an Hireling in a Play-house; who says what he thinks not; whose only care is to acquit himself well of that part he hath undertaken to Act, knowing he shall not (when the Play is ended) go without his Reward, with future encouragement.

As he can in other discourse lye, reserve, and equivocate for his own benefit, so by the help of Nature, and his own Labours, he hath treasured up in his Memory, a great number of choice things, which makes him restitution, when he hath occasion to make use of them, which is a great and necessary succour to him when he intends to delight, and win upon the company by his Railery, which by its designed delicacy and fineness, heightens conversation when it is flagging, and infinitely obliges in Society. When he jests himself, he speaks so indifferently, and is so seemingly unconcern'd, that onewould think he understood not what he said; but this is his cunning, that thereby he may the more pleasingly surprize, and by his silence make room for others laughter; but when others jest, there shall be nothing wanting in his face which may not express a more than common satisfaction. He studies Jokes, Repartees, &c. to no other end than to please in Conversation; for, nothing contributes more to delightful diversion, than returns [Page] which are facetiously surprizing; wherefore he takes special care to muzzle all his biting jests, and never lets them show their Teeth, till he is too Satyrically overwitted, and then, to the rescue of his reputation, he freely lets them run without constraint.

Sometimes the Wheedle (perswaded by his good cloaths, and pusht forward by his confidence) gets admittance into the Society of such as are much above him, where if he hear any vain, effeminate, and impertinent person, eagerly discoursing the conduct of some amorous Female Conquests, as the Wife of Mr. Fribble, my Ladies Woman, or an Actoress, I say, if it be his chance, or design, that cast him into that Company, he will give all attention imaginable, and with as much astonishment, as at the description of some Bloody Siege, if in the Relation, the Amorish borrows Metaphors from War to illustrate the Infamy of that Victory.

To please this Lump of Brutality the more by his words and behaviour, he makes him believe, that in such an adventure he ought to esteem himself the happiest of Lovers, by magnifying his Victory, not depending on Chance, or the weakness of the Sex vanquisht; but to his irristible Person, Wit, and Eloquence, adding other commendations which may make his Masculine Vigour and Courage look big in his [Page] own Eye, so that he may believe himself to be in no capacity of fear for any Competitor, and an absolute Conquerour when e'er he intends to attaque any Maiden Fortress, or well fortified Old Garrison.

Having possest him with so good an Opinion of his own excellencies in general, he then singles him out, and for further proof of his prodigious Valour, whispers him in the Ear, where lies the perfect pattern of all Beauty, and its concomitants, insinuating withal the greatness of her Virtue and severe Continence; that this admired piece deserves his trial, having tyred all her Assailants by the long continued Siege, and none could ever yet make a breach in her Walls; that if he could (coming last) storm, or enter this Cittadel by a voluntary surrender, he might then conclude the total conquests of all other VVorlds of Women, and sit down at length with Alexander, and weep there are no more to conquer.

The Gallant thus prickt on, and animated to make this bold attempt, is impatient till he enter the Lists; the Wheedle shows him then where this Inchanted Castle lies; what Avenues there are to it; what inestimable Treasures it contains; how guarded and defended by two mighty Gyants, Chastity and Temperance; two Angels her constant Centinels; how deeply [Page] Moated and Intrenched; two Ivory Pillars standing at the Entrance of the Gate, &c. all these do rather encourage, than dishearten the bold Knight, who without any help (nay, not so much as his Squires) boldly makes an Onset, and in the attempt, surpriseth the Centinels, destroys the Gyants, dams up the Moat, enters the Trenches, and with his single hand makes himself Commander of the place, but endeavouring to find out where the Treasure lay hid, was blown up by a Mine of White-Gun-Powder, which though it made no Report, yet did Execution to his great dammage and dishonour.

But to return to our purpose; let the Wheedle be where he will, and in what company soever, he is very cautious how he speaks to the disadvantage of another, but to the advantage; and though some impute this way of speaking to flattery, since it is advantagious, he holds it excusable; thus some are of opinion, That if a lye bring dammage to none, and is of profit to some, it may be dispenced with, if the nature of the Subject forbid it not.

Superiours, and those from whom he expects some kindness, he seldom or never contradicts, fearing to offend, and so lose them; and the truth of it is, contradictions are seldom grateful and acceptable to any. The opinions of others, though in themselves very extravagant, he glibly [Page] swallows as approved Maxims in appearance, and the little follies, indiscretions and levities, which are committed in his company, he is so far from reproving, that he reproves himself thereby, by approving seemingly of them, and by considering wherein they may be profitable to him, whether for the present entertainment, or future accomplishment of any other design.

There is no remedy but that there must be some indulgence to flattery, but not in all its kinds: for great flatteries sometimes succeed worse, than if there were used none at all; because, he who is so flatter'd, is apt to enter into an opinion that there is an intention of deceiving.

To sum up all, as well Princes as other men are composed of the four Humours, and are thereby inclined in their affections, according to the degree of the humour which is most predominant in them, regarding their change by Age, Affairs, and Conversations, so the manner of the Wheedles procedure changeth too, and answers the inclinations of both Sexes, which are various, and almost infinite. To the Voluptuous, he is a Pimp to serve his pleasures; with the Drunkard he will drink, so that he may advance himself thereby, as a mean Scab was prefer'd before many Noblemen of Rome to the Questure, because he had pledg'd Tiberius a whole [Page] Amphora of wine; with the falacious Nero he will be Tigilinus, or a Petronius to be Arbiter of the elegance of his Luxury. I need not produce more instances how he Insinuates into all humours, but conclude, that he who will (like the Wheedle) gain the favour of all men, and make advantages of them in all respects, must comply with, or second their Inclinations and Passions.

Give me leave to add some few Observations concerning the Age, and Fortune of Men, and I shall conclude the Theorical part of the Art of Wheedling.

He that intends to be skilful in this Art, must well observe the exterior conditions of Persons, which are subservient to the judging of the interior, and whence they proceed, viz. from Age, or from their Fortune; the Age of Man, in which the difference of manners are principally to be observed, are Youth, Man-hood, and Old Age.

The young man is soon led away, ready to execute his desires, ardent in the prosecution, and not easily satisfied in the enjoyment of Pleasures, Inconstant, soon Cholerick, Profuse, or Prodigal, as having never tried what want means, Having never had the Black Ox tread on his Toe. he is simple for want of Observation and Experience, which were enough to lay him too open to the subtlety of the selfish Insinuator, [Page] if the foregoing qualities were left out.

Moreover young men having never been deceived, nor cheated any way by the Wheedling Crafts-Masters of the Town, knows not what it means, and being puft up with Hope, they promise to themselves Mountains, and are buoyed up by the fair promising pretences of these Townshifts, till they have an opportunity to effect their ends. These young mens hopes are great, and being Cholerick to boot, they readily enterprise any thing, and the hopes they have of effecting what they propose to themselves, makes them affraid of nothing, and do easily enter into a confidence of themselves and others: Danger is never nearer than when security lies at the Door: and following rather splendid Vanities than what is profitable, they either by the subtle instigations of the Wheedle disable their flight, by singing their wings at the flame of a (glittering) Candle, or being suffocated with Sweets, lie Buried in a Hony-pot.

Love and Friendship is more strong in youth than any other Age, and both of them (without great caution) prove equally destructive.

Old men are of a quite different humour; for by their long aboad in the world, and converse with men of divers sorts, they have been frequently cheated and deceived, and therefore are suspicious and distrustful; the effects of that [Page] fear which freezes their hearts, and the experience they have of the infidelity of men, makes them love none, and are jealous of all; wherefore the premises considered, I know not what advantages can be made of him (if he be covetous too, which is natural to all aged people) unless, like the Hog, after decease to feed his Relations, whom in his life time he half starved by his boundless Avarice.

From these two Extremities it is easie to describe the Age of Manhood, who is at an equal distance from the presumption of the Young, and timerousness of the Ancient; and if there be adjoyn'd unto it all the advantages which are separate from young and old Age, and the defects and excesses of Ages more moderate, so that Age becomes less lyable to the prejudices the Wheedle doth design against it.

From the Ages of man I should proceed to their different Fortunes and conditions, but that is a work I design for the following Section, where I shall endeavour to give you a faithful account of several private and publick Practicers of this mysterious Art and Science.

PROTEUS REDIVIVUS, OR THE SECOND PART OF THE ART of WHEEDLING. Containing a true account of several private and publick Practicers of this Mysterious Science.

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CHAP. I. Of the variety of Wheedles or Insinuators.

FRom the Signification of the word Wheedle, which (as I have already said) imports a crasty Insinuation into the affections of one another, by consulting, and studying the Temperaments, Inclinations, and Passions of each other, whereby he that can best comply and suit with them, reaps the most certain advantage to himself, if also he takes his measure from their several Ages, and Professions; I say, from this Interpretation of the word Wheedle, we may be [Page] bold to say, that there are as many several Wheedles as there are Professions and Occupations amongst both Sexes, which are weaker or stronger, less happy or more succesful in the conduct of their projects and contrivances, according to the Sex and Age that governs them.

It is impossible for me to enumerate the hundred thousand part of all those subtle ways, and stratagems Men and Women use to bring about their own designs, nay Children must not be exempted out of their number, since they no sooner begin to prattle and run about, but they study their little plots, and use their fallacies to delude their School-fellows of their play things; and being abused find out ways for revenge; nay in this tender age they will adventure to set upon Father, Mother, Uncle, Aunt, or any whom they know do love them, and having dexterously and ingeniously, cheated or perswaded them out of what they had a mind to have, go away rejoicing in their childish conquests to the no small satisfaction of their Relations, to see their young kindred so forward to live in the world by Wit, Circumvention, and Insinuation.

As all Wheedles whatever must, if they intend to thrive by it (as I have said) study the nature of men, and know their inclinations and passions by conversation; so from the very breast the Infant begins to study the Mothers disposition, and as he [Page] grows more intelligible, he examins his Fathers; if the child have any promising natural parts he will soon show them, by discovering his knowledge of the Father and Mothers humour, what will please, what displease, how to abscond his juvenile errors from their sight, and be acting still before them what he finds they most delight in, and every day produceth some little invention which more and more rivets him in their affections, till by this continued pleasing Insinuation, from rewards getting into their hearts, he at last takes possession of their whole Estate. It is not so much natural affection, as subtle insinuation that most commonly so engageth the hearts of Parents towards their Children; do not we daily see that (like Jacob and Esau) brethren rob one another of their birth-right only by their deportment: Elder Brothers have been disinherited for not complying with the insufferable humours of a cross Father, whilst the colloguing younger Son hath run away with all; I might give you an hundred instances of the like nature, but let this suffice, and so proceed.

If we look into the City, and number the several Trades and Professions contain'd therein, we shall find, that as we know not how to manage any one Trade, scarcely, to which we served no time to learn that Art or Mystery; so, did we know and understand their mannal operations, [Page] yet we should never understand every mans particular Wheedling-way in procuring customers in vending good commodities at a dear rate, and putting off bad in Trucks or otherwise; in getting credit at first, and either keep it when thus gotten, or support it when tottering, and finally secure something after cracking. Now since we cannot give an account of all, yet we will lay open as many as come within the verge of our knowledge, discovered by a severe and strick indagation: in order thereunto we will begin with the most general Wheedle called the Town-shift.

CHAP. II. The Gentile Town-shift.

THe Town-shift as he changeth his Lodgings often, so he goes by diverse names of his own invention, besides those which his actions bestow on him; and though those names seem to belong to several Persons of different Professions, yet in the winding up we shall find, that there is but one Soul in one body which animates it in diverse actions.

This Town-shift is sometimes called Wheedle, Bully, Huff, Rook, Pad, Reformade, Pamponio, [Page] Guarde-lupanie, Philo-puteinist, Ruffin Shabbaroon, Subtler, with many more I cannot well remember, which titles distinguish the diversity of his employs, which he fashions himself to, according to the opportunity offer'd for him to make use thereof.

There are two sorts of them eminently taken notice of in this City, whose original extraction are as different in Splendor, as the two Poles, or Zenith, and Nadir are distant, and remote each from the other.

The one is a younger Brother, and him I call the Gentile Town-shift, whom his Father dealt withal, as Pharaoh with the Children of Jsrael, that expected they should make brick, and gave them no straw; so he makes him live at home as a Gentleman, and leaves him nothing to maintain it; he hates with the Irish-man, that his Son should be a Tradesman, for fear of murdering his gentility, and yet never thinks, that after his decease the Gentleman must be converted into a Serving-man, and it is well if it be no worse; so that the Pride of his house hath undone him.

What would you have this poor Gentleman do; the Father being dead, his Brothers old suits and he are much alike in request, and cast off both together with a little money in his pocket, that the sight and memory of him, and his Father, may perish together.

[Page] To London he comes, (having spent it may be almost all what he had given him to be rid of him to France he goes, there to learn the Language of these inconstant Times, their Alamode Shrugs, Cringes, and ridiculously Antick fashions) I say, coming thither, his Birth and bringing up will not suffer him to descend to the means to get wealth, and so is forced to stand to the Mercy of the World; but Nature foreseeing into what extremities the imprudence and improvidence of his Father must reduce him, in Compassion furnisht him with a greater stock of Wit than his Brother, having no other Revenue to subsist upon.

Having gain'd a general Experience by Observation in Company with men, and soft conversation of the smooth and milder Sex, by which he comes to understand the humours of the Town not without several brisk rencounters with the Jacobin and Holbornian Furioso's, he then sets up for himself, and makes all the Places of publick resort, in or about the City, his Exchanges, leaving his other Brother Wheedles of meaner, or Dung-hill extraction to act by themselves apart; who according to the baseness of their birth and breeding perpetrate vild and unworthy things, and if by chance any of them have the courage to mount (comme les Gens des Armes) and dare boldly bid a man stand, it is not long before either [Page] their own imprudence, or the treachery of their Associates pulls off their Vizard Mask, by which he is discover'd to Justice, and so their blooming extravagancies make their timely Exits at Tyborn: more shall be spoken of these in the next Chapter.

As others trim up their shops by ornaments of paint and other things, so he furnisheth up his body after travel with a Suit Alamode, if he hath not money, the first trial of his wit is, by procuring them some other way, either by a letter to this person of quality, or to the other (for we must allow him the knowledge of persons of worth by reason of his gentile family) in which missives must be represented the meaness of his condition occasioned by Travel, and the unkindness of relations; that he is ashamed to be seen till better garb'd &c. if this produce no good effects, a Poetical Panegyrick on some proud Lady, or conceited Gentlewoman may do it with a whisper in the ear by the Messenger, that the Author would have presented them with his own hands, but that newly coming from some foreign Country, and not furnished with habiliments proper for a visit to a Person of so much worth, he must be patient till he hear out of the Country; if this will not do, the poor Gentleman hath hard fortune, and must apply himself to his wonted, and last refuge, his unconscionable Taylor, [Page] who with a shrug, where it doth not bite, and some feigned scruples, he becomes so good natur'd as to compassionate the Gentleman, by making him a suit for Twenty pound which might have been bought for Seven with ready money.

The first thing he does, is to wind himself into the Society of men eminent for their dignity and fortune, and hath learn'd, that nothing gains upon them more than Complaisance and respect, which they take the more kindly and cordially from him, as knowing, or hearing that he is well born, and better educated, better I say, for birth without breeding is not much to be valued, and an extraordinary breeding (though meanly born is to be prefer'd before some eminent births, that have little or no good education.

Towards these he behaves himself with all humility and submission, and in his words and actions expresseth nothing more than reverence, knowing, there is nothing more engages the affections of men, than a handsom address with graceful language, nay his manner of behaviour is not only full of humility and submission, but of such a degree, as therein he abaseth himself very much; no matter so that this his lowly deportment raise him high in their esteems, and finally, by their own means at first, be placed little inferiour to themselves.

In all his actions and motions he is so careful [Page] (whether walking, standing, eating, or sitting) to cloath them with such a meen and grace, as may evince, that he not only reverenceth his Superiours, but adores them. This he hath learn'd as a Maxim, That no man ever miscarried through excess of respect, nor was disgraced for retaining a constant and proportionate sense of the quality or merit of his Superiour; Not but that he knows how to be intimate enough with some, though of an honourable quality, but then he knows their humours with whom he useth this familiarity, who will command, rather than condemn his blunt freedom, and recompence his boldness.

His general practice is to proportion his respects according to the quality, and Wealth of those to whom he doth address them, by which means he often times gets into some good employ under them, or if there be no vacancy, they give him a turn over to some other person in authority by a Letter recommendatory, and that may prove every whit as profitable; if he aims not that way, yet, by these gentile deportments and submissions, he may so far ingratiate himself with the whole family, that he may have his admission when he desires it, either publickly or privately, and having Madam and her womans good opinion and estimation, I know not what may be secured in the whole house from his [Page] handling, and to make them amends at last for all their favours, it may be steals the Heiress, or some Neice belonging to that family.

This last instance (before I was a ware) runs me upon the gentile Town-shifts conversation with Gentlewomen, who by his frequent attendance on Ladies, and Persons of Quality, hath acquired that air of the world, and that politeness which no Lecture from the best Master of Gentiless could give him.

In his discourse with that tender-hearted merciful Sex, he avoids all rough, and bristly language of War, and is not guilty of the incorrigible folly of some, whose head being full of Fire, and Sword, Assaults, and Batteries, speak of nothing but Sieges, or Sea-fights; what a great slaughter of men there was at the taking of Maestricht; how the Turks in one City did put a 1000. Souls, Men, Women, and Children to the Sword; or how in the last Engagement the fight was so bloody, that the Decks of each ship seemed like a Shambles of mans flesh to be sold by the piece or Mammock; this way of entertaining the Ladies would rather make them affraid, than give them any desire to seek his Conversation. He takes another course, and is very cautious that nothing may be offensive in his language, or in his Countenance, but studies all manner of ways to please, and accomodate himself to their manner of behaviour.

[Page] He entertains them with a new Song, a smart Epigram, witty sayings culd out of Plays, and if he finds them in a brisk jolly humour, he reads them some Lampoon lately made on some great Person, and cunningly skips over the Bawdry. Instead of speaking in the form of Syllogisms, and Pedantry, like things newly flutter'd out of the Ʋniversity, and being not throughly fledg'd come hopping to Town, I say, he indeavours not to puzzle them that way, but divert them with what they understand, by telling them of Balls, where such and such Ladies are bravely entertain'd this night, and to morrow what excellent new Play is to be acted; if he perceive them melancholy he proposes to them Musick; if they are resolv'd to be serious, he can be so too; if he sees any wantonly inclin'd, he knows how to single her out (not to give offence to the rest) and can give her her belly full of toying: from whom he quickly retires for fear of cloying, for it is not to his benefit to dwell too long in one Chamber; he hath variety, and makes his visits accordingly, and his fain'd deportment (with his good cloaths, gives him frequent admittance into the company of those he was never in before. For his prudent expence in habits bears him through all; it opens all doors to him, and always procures him an obliging reception: as the exteriour part, striking first the sight, is that which makes the first [Page] impression in our Spirits, so he takes a very great care to render that impression favourable.

As the furniture of his body very much captivates the eye and heart of the young Ladies and Gentlewomen, so his pregnant Wit renders him as capable to please the ear, being able to raise diversion out of every small occurrence: when in one Scene he hath given a Lady all the delights he can, he shifts into another, never continuing in one humour so long till it become disgustful; choicest delights do soonest surfeit, and feeding always on one dish (though ever so good) will nauseate the Stomach; he varies therefore his diversions conformable to the humor of that Sex, which makes his visits always acceptable, long'd for, and his departure is never without regret.

This amorous gentile Town-shift hath always leisure enough to wait on this Sex (unless when his attendance on some great man is required in the expectation of some boon for himself, or the advantagious solliciting for another) and if they have a mind to be treated he doth it with much generosity and gallantry, and knows how to pay himself in the conclusion.

Out of his uninclosed Seraglio he plays the Grand Seignor, and picks out one of the crowd, waits upon her at a Play, to a Ball, or to the Park, each of which doth infinitely please, giving her the opportunity of making oftentation of her [Page] Beauty and Gallantry; and whilst she is endeavouring by all her Arts and Subtleties, to set her self off for sale, she little thinks how near her Chapman sets, who will without scruple take her Commodity on trust: and that he may not tickle his Trout too long, and so lose her, an Assignation (with some few doubts and difficulties) is made, and hand and seal binds her in a Bond of perpetual friendship and affection.

As he does by one, so he deals with all, but by different means; for there is much variety of humours, inclinations and Passions in women, as there are in men, and must be wrought upon accordingly by a due conformity for advantage. It lies not within the reach of my knowledge to discover all the Stratagems, Plots, Snares, Whims, Contrivances, Projects, Insinuations, and Flatteries he useth himself, and by Proxy Procuress, to riggle himself first into Gentlewomens affections, and having made himself Secretary to their honour, he disposes of their Reputation and Estate, according to his own discretion.

He now begins to look upon his Elder Brother with scorn, who not long since beheld him with a countenance of stern awe, and checkt him oftner than his Liveries. He treads the streets boldly, triumphing over his former mean fortune, and looks another way when he meets his quondam Taylor though he owe him nothing.

[Page] His garb and attendance differ him in nothing from a Person of Honour, which now capacitate him for few, but such company, and can dispence in some measure with the largeness of their expence; will now and then throw away a hundred Guinneys on a horse-hoof, knowing so well how to take the length of a womans foot; at a Cock-pit he will lay ten to one, and win the Battle; for by instinct he knows the best Cocks, being himself of a Game-brood; but here is the mischief of it, he is now and then addicted to play with the great Ones with Box and dice, by whom he is Nickt out of all he got by Minutes in a Nights time. He recruits his pockets again, it may be, but not being able to recruit his bodily strength, and rally his routed Spirits, he becomes a greater object of the female scorn, than he was formerly of their love, and untimely growing old, and infeebled per nimiam Venerem, they more indeavour to avoid his company, than before they desired it; which he timely observing tacks about and steers another course.

His crazy, leaky Vessel (for there is as many holes near his Keel as there are in a Cullender) he now thinks fit to lay up in safe harbour, whose lading is Guinney-gold, Silks, Stuffs, Hats, Linnen, Perriwigs, Ivory (i. e. artificial Teeth) Perfumes, Ribbons, and Looking-glasses cum mille aliis.

[Page] Applying himself to his former Air of Wheedling (being an excellent Tongue-pad) he, in a little time, with some pains finds a Customer that will take all his commodities of him by the lump; and Mort-gage an Estate to him to make him what satisfaction he pleases; to say the truth, the Merchant may nor be lookt upon so contemptible, but that he deserves a good price for his Ware; he is a man proper enough, and hath a good face, but that it looks somewhat pale and thin by a late fit of sickness: as for the Nodes in his head and front, gotten by a desperate surfeit, those his twelve pound flaxen Wigg absconds; what Pustulae circumvolve his body, the goodness of his cloaths both hide and grace: it is pity those Stilts, on which this seemingly fine Fabrick stands, had not a covering too; but what needs that now I think on't, since his Stockings are bolster'd, to make his calves look the bigger. Let all these things pass, it is enough that he is gentilely born, and from thence derives his Art of making a Gentlewoman, wherewith he baits some rich Widow, that is hungry after his blood; besides this, he wants not various guilded pretences to set himself off so advantagiously, yet delusively that at length he involves this wealthy Veterane in the Labyrinth of Wedlock, that he may the better cheat her by Authority. In the end, finding out each [Page] others imperfections and corruptions; she his pocky distempers; he her old halting leacherous humours, they both consent to a voluntary divorce, she living upon what he pleases to give her (who might have liv'd as she pleas'd but for her dotage) whilst he can hardly live himself by the vast expence he is at on Doctors, Chirurgeons, and Apothecaries to support the tottering Fabrick of decayed nature.

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CHAP. III. The Ordinary Town shift.

THere are several sorts of ordinary Town-shifts, but since it will be too tedious to particularize them, I shall include them all under this general head; the Vulgar or ordinary Town-shift. It is a fellow that pretends to greatness of birth, and to back the reputation he would force from thence, gives a large account of his rich Relations, who shall live too remote for any one to inquire into them. Yet if any one is desirous to know his extraction, he need not trouble himself any farther than to examine his Name, and he shall know the Parish wherein the crue! Whore his Mother bare him, by his bearing the same Name of the Patron of that Church.

Some of these ordinary Town-shifts come out of the Country, who not daring to live there longer (their rogueries being so generally known) hoof it to London, who by the way, for food sake, are any ones Servants that will imploy them, and for want of that must go supperless to their bed of straw, and glad they lye so well. Coming to London their happy stars (it may be) directs them to an Inn, where immediately for some eminent [Page] parts, they commence Boot-Ketchers, from thence they proceed gradually to under Hostlers; whilst in that employ, some one may be observed by his Mistress to have good features and well limb'd, who (out of pity to the strippling, whom for the kindling love she bears him, thinks him better born than he is) removes him from the Stable to be a Chamberlain, and intrusting him with the sheets, hath a months mind to lye in a Bed of his making. By so unexpected a favour, and not able to manage this fortune, he grows Proud, Insolent, and Talkative, for which he is kickt out of doors, and meeting with a debaucht City Rambler, (a Renegado from his Trade, and one who is resolv'd to be wicked, maugre all the good counsel of Master and Relations) he finds him a fit Instrument of Mischief to joyn with, and so they become both sworn Brethren in Iniquity, and joyning with others of the same stamp, make up a Corporation of Divelism, and act according to the Hellish Precepts which their Grand Master dictates to them. To add to the number of these Miscreants, some broken Credit-crackt-fellow steps in among them, whom all other means hath failed, and now resolves to live by his shifts; a needy fellow cashir'd out of all civil company; for the World hath flung him off, and he would willingly be reconciled unto it, but [Page] wants some wealthy Arbitrators to decide the controversie between them. He may be fitly compared to one drowning, who fastens upon any thing that is next at hand, and if he must sink, whatever he lays hold on shall down with him. Amongst other of his Shipwracks, he hath haply lost Shame, and this want supplies him; for by his confidence, or impudence rather, he will shuffle himself into any company, and what he cannot do by fair means, he will effect (if he can) by foul; if his Wheedling perswasions, and crafty insinuations produce not their desired effects, he then applies himself to threats and violence; by the one he frightens some Fops into an humour to do him a kindness, by the other he compels them. That little wit he hath, he imploys to the utmost advantage; for as his Life is a daily invention, so his Meat, Drink, Lodging, Cloaths, and all that belongs to him, are the Products of his Stratagems. When he wants mony, his borrowings are like Subsidies, and desires the loan of mony, according to the quality of the person, or what he hath about him; and rather than be totally denied, he will accept of the loan of a shilling, though his request be twenty; he borrows so often, that few of his acquaintance but are his Creditors, and they fear, and shun him in the conclusion, as much as if they were indebted to him. They [Page] know his Wheedling tricks so well, that they dare not shew him any countenance, for fear of renewing acquaintance; at first, finding him a good fellow, and Complaisant Companion, they never lookt further till experience taught them what he drove at, interest, which (though never so small) should not escape him; if towards dinner time he find but a good look, which promises his welcome, he becomes their half boarder, and haunts the threshold so long till he forces good natures to a quarrel, and yet know not how to be rid of him, like the poor Scholars thredbare Cloak, a long hanger-on, and being willing to be rid on't, walking in Moor-fields dropt it in one of the Quarters, and then ran from it as fast as he could; but the people at sight hereof cry'd out to him, d'ye hear, Sir, d'ye hear, Sir, you have left your Cloak behind: which made him with regret return and take it up again.

Much more might be said of his Character in general, but designing brevity I shall supply in some nature what is deficient in his particular Wheedles following.

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CHAP. IV. Wheedles between the Town-shift, Vintner, and Drawers.

MOney with the Town-shift Ebbs and Flows, sometimes it over-flows the banks of his Pockets, and at other times they lye dry. Borrowing, Pimping, Padding, Filing, Gilting, Budging &c. are his Exchequer, whence he is continually supplyed with money, till Tyborn shuts it up, and his Pay-offices, or Houses of Disbursements are Taverns, Bawdy-houses, Inns, and Coffee-houses, &c. of which I shall treat in their due places.

Having money he scorns an Ale-house, but he is all for the Tavern, which is three Stories higher than that paltry-house as he calls it, and there he may be drunk sooner, and with greater credit, and then the thoughts of a Coffee-house shall not come within his noddle, but to make him more sober to be drunk again.

First he pitches on that Tavern in which he never drank before, and having acquainted half a dozen of his Com-rogues with his design of being merry, and to have Money and Wine to boot, a Foot-boy is dispatcht to the place design'd, [Page] with a Guinny to be delivered to the Master of the house, ordering him to provide such & such dishes for the next days dinner; if the Boy be demanded his Masters name, he readily tells him (with a submissive bow)—Squire &c.—at the time appointed they come all as well apparel'd as their Roguerys can furnish them, and being seated, behave themselves with more civility than they commonly use; wine passes about freely, but not entravagantly, and dinner being ready the Master or Mistress is invited up, and with much importunity one is placed at the Table. According as it was designed before, their ordinary discourse is interlin'd with their pretended great concerns in the country, and each takes a seeming modest liberty to praise one anothers estates, which each endeavours to lessen, and magnify the others, but dwell not long upon this subject to avoid suspition, and to add to the happiness of their conditions they all go for Bachelors.

The Cloth being remov'd, the good Gentlewoman of the house, well warm'd with wine, with-draws, to make room for her husband, and in this they are much like two Buckets in a Well, when one descends, the other mounts up, who (with the common saying, d'ye call, Sir.) invites himself to sponge, and so anticipates their desires, for that is the thing they would have.

My Gentlemen now fall to Repetition, saying [Page] before him, what they said before his wife, to the same effect, though in different terms; and having drank very briskly, a reckoning is cal'd for, a Bill is brought, the total only lookt upon, without examining the Items, and the money paid to a farthing, with something to the Drawer. Hereupon my Landlords Bottle (and that really a flower) rides post up the stairs to the breaking of the Drawers shins for haste.

This is so high an obligation, that they all swear they will make this their house, and will ingage their friends likewise, and to seal the bargain, they must drink one Bottle of the same wine with their landlady at the Bar: where all the discourse is about their kind usage, the goodness of the wine, the well ordering of their meat, and the civility of the house; the Bottle being almost out, a young Gentlewoman is espied peeping behind the Bar, and she must be known who she is by all means; being inform'd she is the daughter of the house, with a Con Licencia they enter the Kitching, where they pass such complements, and devoirs as become men of better quality, and having drank a Bottle or two more (dropping a shilling into the Cook-maids hand) they take their leave.

The house being clear'd, and the Master and Mistress having liberty and leisure to talk of that days proceedings, they particularly discourse [Page] on this, thanking their kind stars for sending them such good Customers, concluding them persons of no mean quality.

The next day some of the Gang (especially the Contriver) comes and asks for the rest, who though they find them not there, yet will have the civility to dine there, before they go in quest of them. This repetition of the first kindness it may be obliges the Vintner to give them the civility of his Cellar, and the rather that he may show them how well stockt he is of all sorts.

To be short they visit him so long till they are not only intimately acquainted with the good Man, but inwardly with his Wife, and Daughter, and now it is high time for them to think of picking up their expences.

The Ale-draper uses to say, that the Tap is a great Thief if not well lookt after, but many Vintners, to their great grief, may say, the Bar is a greater, which had it been carefully eyed, Dublin and other places would not have been so peopled with Drawers, quondam Vintners of London.

To inlarge their credit in the house, they sum up what money they can together, and pretend to play; one seemingly losing all, sees how much he can borrow in the house, and observes with what willingness it is lent, that he may know how to steer his course for the future: what ever is borrow'd, is thankfully paid the [Page] next day, and whatsoever Wine is sent home, as they call it, (not trusting any body with it but a Porter, a Creature of their own) is paid for in like manner; so that suspition cannot fasten on such honest dealing: but to winde up all, they borrow money of the husband, without the knowledge of his wife of the wife, without his knowledge, and of the Daughter, without the knowledge of them both, but the Bar pays for all; the wife dares not acquaint the husband of what she hath done, lest the loan of the money should confirm the growing jealousie of her disloyalty; the Daughter dares not speak a word of her deeds of darkness; for, should she do it, she knows she should receive a double punishment for a double offence, in picking her Mothers pockets, and robbing her of her pleasure.

These generous Guests not coming to the house as they were wont, makes the poor Vintner run horn-mad, swearing for the loss of his money, and vowing revenge by an arrest, this frightens his wife out of her wits, fearing the action might provoke them to a discovery of their past amorous intrigues. The Town-shift, foreseing what would be the effects of this stratagem, sends a Spy into the house to ask for him of the Mistress, who, glad to hear of her errant Lover, enquires more after him, than the Messenger, who whispers her in the ear, says, he is not far off, but dares not come by reason of a debt due to her husband; [Page] she overjoy'd that she should see him, puts the money into her pocket, and is convey'd where he is, who after some dalliance receives the money of her, and with it pays the poor Cuckold in his own kind, which he would not have done, but that otherwise he must lose a friend that will continually supply him.

If She be Rich and handsom, on my life,

No better Friend than is a Vintners Wife.

There are several sorts of Tavern Wheedles, and so numerous, that it is an impossible thing to give an account of them all, wherefore I shall conclude this Chapter with some observations tending thereunto.

There is a base sensual sneaking fellow, who to save his money, and to gorge himself with Wine, makes it his business to be acquainted with as many Drawers as he can (whose Masters live not too near the Compters) a small expence informs him of their names, then he dives into their inclinations; whether they fancy Fencing, Dancing, Gaming, Wenching with other pastimes which youth takes most delight in, and as their desires tend, he fits them most agreeably; this so infinitely engages the young Dash to gratify his Palate, that if there be any one Faucet that can betray neat Wine to the Bar [Page] it shall be arraigned before him sooner than before a Person of Quality.

He is not long in making himself acquainted; the 2d sight shall be sufficient to call him honest Jack, or Tom, and making him (Sans Ceremonie) sit down, obliges him to drink a full glass, and is a Pledge for his safety, whilst he drinks, by carefully peeping through the jarring door, to see whether Master or any else are coming to disturb them in the interim. This action makes honest Jack grow confident, insomuch that his Pint is offer'd at his Masters cost, and another being sacrificed on the same account, John's Brains begin to crow, and though his Head be full, and belly too, yet not content, he will have his Breeches as full as they.

The Wheedle by this means, hath struck his Fish not easily to get loose again, yet gives him line enough to play up and down, till by a suddain jerk he is thrown out of a deep River of plenty, into a contrary Element, that proves his Ruin and Destruction.

Whilst humour'd by this Wheedle, the Drawer studies to please him, by undoing his Master, and himself too; for Canary he cries a Pint of White; and for variety a Bottle of Claret, whereas 'tis Sack coated with Red-wine; or he will bring a Bottle in his Codpiece, saying, jocosely and roguishly, Sir, take this to supply [Page] the other when it is out, but let but one be seen at a time; my Master hath a good Estate, but no Children; wherefore since he is able, as long as I am his Servant, I will make him treat his friends; at length by these frequent practices he is discovered, and turn'd out of doors; and having been Wheedled out of all credit, he at length for five shillings learns to play upon the Tongs, or upon a Violin, taught by some Barber (whose chiefest Musick is a Cittern) and with these accomplishments is admitted as a Menial into a Minstrel-Bawdy-house.

This Wheedle hath more strings to his Bow than one, two, or half a score, so that as he breaks one, he fastens on another, whom, when he hath once corrupted, he makes him his perpetual Slave to serve his unlawful desires, by threatning a discovery of all without a present compliance to his propositions.

Some Drawers are so crafty they will not be Wheedled by any Cunningham of them all, pretending how much it goes against his conscience to deceive his Master, that he had rather spend his own mony, than wrong him of a farthing, yet will Wheedle for himself so closely, that none shall discover him, no not his Master, but by his sensible decay, by his Servants purloinings, by scoring less, yet taking the whole reckoning; by scoring justly, yet taking more; by drawing [Page] continually Flowers, or the choicest Wines for reward; and principally in the Night, by conveying whole Rundlets away. If his Master anger him, he shows no discontent, but very patiently steps into the Cellar, and there to be friends with his Master, drinks a health to him in a glass of Sack, not omitting the remembrance of the least of his progenie, though there were twenty, and will see that his fellow-Servant, honest Ralph, shall do him Reason; if their Fish want Butter, as they think no greater injury can be done them, so they will revenge it, by making it (after it is eaten) to swim in good Canary; much better Housewifery in the Mistress, if she had allowed them two pounds of Butter to three Sprats, and so have pleas'd them, than to be at that expence.

It is now high time to speak a little of the Vintners Wheedle in his Guests. If he be wise, and crafty for his own ends, he must be all submission to the Velvet-Coat, Pantaloon, or splendid Thing that is in fashion, and make a noise with his Bell, and Mouth, as if the house were all in Flames, the one jangling to alarm the people, and his mouth speaking nothing but Tom, Will, John, show a Room, which because it cannot be heard by the insufferable noise of the jarring Bell, one would think he call'd out for Buckets, and water to quench the Fire. The [Page] noise somewhat allay'd, he begins again with his feet and hasty running up, that he may have the first honour to serve the Gentlemen with bad Wine, having more authority to brazen it out with a lye; his hat is under his Arm, and understanding what Wine it is they will drink, he instantly swears they shall not drink better Wine in London, though they cannot drink worse elsewhere, and it may be puzzle a good judgment whether it be Wine or no. Their Palats being displeas'd, the Master in all haste is called for, whose place is supply'd by John, who cringingly desires to know their Worships pleasure, & understanding thev dislike the wine, he then asks what fault they find with it, to no other intent than to try their judgments; if they want Vintners terms, and say the Wine is sweet, he streight way cries, I will draw you greener, Gentlemen; if they say it is sour, he then proposeth Richer; but if they say it is foul, for no benefit to himself, and little to his Master, he mortgages his Soul to the Devil, by swearing damnedly there is not a cleaner piece of Wine between Aldgate and Westminster, however he will change it, if they please; 'tis done, and somewhat better than the former, yet not so good, but that the Master must be call'd up again, who, excusing himself that he is very busie, doing nothing, at length comes up, and [Page] delivering a Key (which never belong'd to any Lock of his knowledge) to his servant in their sight, bids him bring up a Bottle of that Wine which is to be sent in to his Grace, the Duke of- this must take, or else the Devils in't; sometimes he bids the Drawer go to the Third next the wall, and though it be a common draught, the Faucet shown in the mouth must evince the contrary, and so between the Master and the Man, it is well if the Guest drinks one third of Wine that is tollerable, and if you have a good farewel at last, you must not thank the kindness of the house so much, as the Drawers expectation of a Six pence, or the evening of the reckoning.

I shall say nothing of his large Bills, nor his dark working in his Vaults and Cellars, where he so subtlely plays the Brewer, that Anniseed Cleer had never Combatants about her ne're half so crafty in their Art of composition; the sending Mum to Sea, brew'd at St. Katherines, to purge it self, and so come in for Mr. Brumswick, is a meer Bauble to this profound Mystery: Now, since it is impossible to detect the Art and Mystery of a Vintner, (but indifferently) without serving a time to the Profession, and that those who have served two Apprentiships are still Novices in their own Trade, I shall leave them amongst their Cans, Tubs, Casks, Cranes, [Page] Bellows, &c. and being in the dark, groap my way up stairs, and creep into the Bar, which shall be the subject of my next observation.

The Daughter or Kinswoman, which is handsomest of the two, is Bar-keeper, which frequently proves more beneficial to the house within, than the entising Signe without, and yet both use the same artifices of painting to allure and delude, yet differ very much in their composition and substance, the one being a gravid heavy body, supported by almost a rising Constables estate in Iron work, the other is (it may be) gravid too, yet very light, whom a Feather placed in the contrary scale, will weigh down, and not blush at it, and yet her cloaths in her finery, is sold to the best advantage, would amount to a portion fit for a Country Bride, and raise her husband, if a Citizen, to a large fortune.

In the Bar she sits with much accustomed patience, and her good face and cloaths angles for all sorts of customers, whilst her eyes are groaping for Trouts, whom she intends to tickle for her own particular advantage. All in civility lowr their Top-sail as they pass by her, but if with the usuall welcome she bestows on them a gracious and pleasant Smile, though under Sail in a stiff gale, this is the Remora that stops the Vessel, and makes it ride per force without dropping Anchor.

[Page] Where there is a noted Beauty a Bar-keeper, she draws custom from all parts of the Town, as cunning Pidgeon Merchants with baits store their own Dove-coats from other mens, and at length engross more of that commodity than they know well what to do with.

In the forenoon she is retired, to be the better attired, and when best drest, she shows her willingness to be undrest, and cares not how soon, so she may be assured her pleasure is not greater than her profit; to that end she leaves her Honeypot sometimes uncovered on purpose, that the gawdy Wasps, and Humble-Bees, may lick and tast thereof, till with it's glutinous quality, like Bird-lime, some so stick therein, that they cannot get out, till they have dearly paid for their stoln sweets: though she hath broken her leg, she is sound enough for a Drawer newly out of his time, who having credit for wine, his house is furnished with the money that did set his wifes broken leg, with some addition of her Uncles; besides, we must not imagine she was so carcless of her self in the management of the Bar, but that she laid by something for a lying in in the Country, if need required: being thus married, and set up, either on the Merchants credit, or on Tunnage, they are now more at liberty to Wheedle for themselves than formerly, he is all complaisance and cringe, and will be sure [Page] to score a bottle in the reckoning extraordinary, that he may present that company with one upon their going, the more to endear them to the house; he is very free of his flesh without exception, and is full of invitations, especially to a Sundays Dinner; for usually he hath then something more than ordinary, and then drinks, and says, you are heartily welcome, and drinks, and tells you so again so often, that in the end you will find it cheaper to Dine at a Crown Ordinary; and yet still stand obliged for these eating kindnesses.

Here note, that in whatsoever Wine you drink to the Mistress of the house of your own calling for, she modestly refuses, though she like it better than any other sort, that, you knowing her dislike, may call for what she only desires to augment the reckoning; and to oblige you for that kindness, she becomes free in your company, both in speech and behaviour, to enlarge your hopes of a future fruition, which by continual expence, and lying close Siege, may be obtain'd, but when all is summ'd up, the Besieger will find himself a great loser by the Surrender. Trading growing bad, (and so it must be when forc'd) the young man, and his younger wife lay their heads together, how they shall shoar up their falling house; she cries leave all to me, (and all shall be well enough) [Page] and then she thinks of leaving him; hereupon she takes all, and pays all, and if any comes to him for mony, he sends them to his wife, as loth to be troubled in the weighty concern of drinking, and sponging with every body; if he be sober, and but few or no guests in the house, he treads more steps up stairs and down stairs in an hour, than a Porter in a Crane does for half a day; running into this Room, then into that, balling aloud, that he may be heard in the Street, Harry, Tom, Will, &c. speak in the Dolphin, speak in the Moon, &c. having before lighted Candles in every Room, as a lightning before Death; the Bell goes incessantly all the while, which haply may Toll some company in, with whom our young Master will drink, or it shall cost him a fall, at length he gets drunk, or seems to be so, and going to Bed, shows how confident he is of his Wifes honesty, who wrongs him no more in her Person, than in his Estate, and at length, seeing her husband sink, she adds more weight, and then shifts for her self; not long after she may be seen in a Bawdyhouse, or an Hospital, whilst the poor helpless man lyes buried alive in some Prison, where he receives no other kindness from his friends and relations, than what will barely contribute to to the support of his life, and by the prolongation thereof, becomes more sensibly miserable.

[Page] If the Daughter keep the Bar, she is more reserved, and less toying in it than the other, not for any aversion she hath to petulant expressions, the Parents of wanton thoughts, and loose actions, but for fear she displease her rich Father and Mother, who guard their Daughters chastity with as much care and vigilancy as the Golden-Fleece of old. All private conferences are forbidden; if some humourists will be dialoguing with her, there is, it may be, a retiring room behind the Bar; the Matron then supplies the Daughters place, who under the pretence of securing her honour, is more willing to receive the shock her self, for her design is, that her Daughter shall be only seen there and heard, not felt and understood. The pride of the Vintner makes him look on better Matches for his Daughter than she deserves, to be too mean; and by reason of his mony, is so long choosing an Husband for her, that she is almost past choosing, and therefore those that make their own indifferent choice, are not much to be condemn'd; a notable Wheedling story I have heard tending to this purpose, which I shall not omit, and so conclude this Chapter.

A Vintner of eminent note having a very handsom young Gentlewoman to his Daughter, was Courted by a Country-Gentleman, who had an Estate of about Sixscore Pounds, a [Page] year, which though considerable, appeared so contemptible in the eye of this ambitious Vintner, that hearing what proposals were made, as to Marriage, he was so irrationally angry, and highly incensed, that he not only committed his Daughter close Prisoner to her own Chamber, but forewarn'd the Gentleman the house, notwithstanding he was before this Courtship, and since, a considerable Guest to the house; the Gentleman, it seems, had so plyed his business before he discovered his intentions to the old Ones, that the young Gentlewoman was totally at his devotion by solemn promise, and other tyes, for a perpetual union in affection.

Somewhat troubled, the Gentleman retired into the Country, not without contriving a way by the Maid-servant to have mutual conversation with each other at a distance by Letter. The young Gentlewoman impatient of her Lovers absence, and not being able to indure the cruelty of her passionate Father, sent him word, if he would come up to London on such a day, she would make an escape out, and be married to him, he, overjoy'd, obey'd the Summons, and meeting each other were by a Minister lawfully Married; and to confirm it the more, went instantly to bed, where lying about two hours, she arose, and dressing her self, went with the Maid, her Guardian, home again unsuspected. Tasting [Page] those sweets of Love which before she was unacquainted with, prompted her ingenuity to find out ways how to repeat their charming visits; in which a womans wit is seldom unsuccessful. The pleasure she injoy'd began now to discover it self by too many apparent symptoms to the Mother, as Paleness, Puking, Qualms, &c. who examining her Daughter very stricktly, confessed she was with Child, and gotten by such a Gentleman; the Mother, thinking it was illegitimately begotten, called her Whore, Stainer of their Family, and hitherto untainted Reputation, with such like Villifying expressions: having given vent to her immoderate anger, she consider'd that what was done, could not be undone, & now all her thoughts were impoly'd about the means of concealing this infamy from her Husband, whose humour she had been too well acquainted with, and knew his Pride at this affront would make him run raving mad; seeing it was impossible to do it, she made it known to him, preparing him as well as she could beforehand, but when once he came to understand it, his rage bare down what ever reason could be alledged to pacify him. The good old people having vext themselves sick by raving by themselves, and scolding with the Daughter, they at length consider, what is to be done in a business of this importance, and it was concluded that a [Page] threatning reproachful letter should be sent into the Country to this Gentleman, to see how he would take it, he return'd them another in like manner, reviling them for abusing him, taxing them with unkindness, and laying the fault on their Daughters easiness, not his eagerness; that if they would force him to keep the Child, he could not avoid it; but then he hoped that they would be so just as to see their Daughter severely punisht, and the like; this netled the old People to the heart, however they sent another letter, but in much milder terms, desiring him to come up and discourse with them; he sent them word again, that he had business of more importance there than to neglect it, to look after Bastards, &c. the third time they sent again, with so many powerful charms contain'd in that paper, that yielding to their requests, he came to London, and was invited by them to a sumptuous dinner, at which you may imagine Wine nor good Cheer was wanting, to express their gallantry, and his welcome; after dinner they fell into discourse concerning their Daughter, which he seem'd to slight, alledging that his estate was sufficient for a very good Match, though they lookt on it contemptibly; besides, if he had a love for their Daughter heretofore, this wanton act of hers had in a manner extinguisht his flame, &c. To be short, they offer'd him a [Page] thousand pound if he would repair, their Daughters honour by marriage, which he refused; seeing that, they cause her to be drest in as splendid a manner as the shortness of the time would permit, and caused her to be usher'd in to tempt him to an acceptance of their proffer; but this wrought no effects; they seeing his obstinacy offer'd him a thousand pound more if he would be instantly married, he now thought it time to close, accepting the proffer, provided they would give him five hundred pound more at the birth of the Child, if it were a boy; which was likewise agreed to and a Minister sent for, which was the same who had Married them before; according to instruction whilst the Parson was going about to commence the Ceremony, the Gentleman burst out into laughter, which strangely amazed the old man, who askt him what he meant, not to be married now, quoth he, but you shall said the other (I have you fast enough) or I'le make your land fly into the air; hereupon the Son and Daughter kneeling down gave their former certificate into their Fathers hand, asking him blessing, with some pause, and with much more astonishment it was granted, and taking them up in his arms, he hug'd his new Son-in-law saying, well, since thou hast so outwitted me, I will cheat my self voluntarily of one five hundred pounds more, to make up the even sum of [Page] three thousand; and afterwards liv'd a long time, not only to their own great contentment, but the general satisfaction of their Relations.

CHAP. V. Wheedles of a Town-shift in a Coffee-house, Ordinary, Theatre, Inn, on the Road, with the Watch, and his Lodgings.

THis Wheedle in the first place takes great care in keeping good cloaths on his back, and he is to be commended for it, for they not only usher him into better Company than himself, but likewise procure him estimation where ere he goes. By means of some small scraps of learning, matcht with a far greater stock of confidence, a voluble tongue, and a bold delivery, he hath the luck to be celebrated by the vulgar for a man of parts, especially if he have a lucky hit at quibling, and can introduce now and then an odd Metaphor, a conceited Irony, a wild fetch, an unexpected inference, and hath withal a pleasing knack in humouring a Tale, and is resolved never to be dasht out of countenance; by these arts, dexterously managed, he engrosses a vast repute: he can speak extempore on all subjects, and this emboldens him to venture himself in any Company, [Page] where he strains himself to the utmost, to be accounted a notable Head-piece, and scatters his wit as Beggars do Lice, or Muskcats perfumes, not that he values popular applause on any other account than to enrich his pocket, and makes men pay dearly for the over-rate they put upon him. Vide Character of a Coffee-house.

A Coffee-house is this Wheedles Bubbling-Pond, where he angles for Fops, singles out his man, insinuates an acquaintance, offers the Wine, and at next Tavern sets upon him with high or low Fullams, Goads, &c. and so plucks my Widgeon, and sends him home featherless.

Full fraught with this success, he steers his course to an Ordinary the day following, and will be sure to be there about eleven, that he may the better take notice of the voluntary uninvited Guests, who thither do resort, and walking up and down scornfully and carelesly, selects some particular Person to associate with in his traverses, such a one who may set him off, and publish him better than the Play-house, with whom he discourses much, no matter to how little purpose, so that he make but a noise, and laugh in fashion; and changing the Scene of his countenance, he cloaths it on a suddain with grim looks, to promise quarrelling, whether necessity or not require it: and to make himself the more observed, he urgeth how frequently he [Page] hath Duell'd, and not a Dutch fight in which he hath not been engaged; that, being Captain, he was forced to shift his Ship twice, that De Reuter coming up, he made him with a warm reception loof, and stand another way; that then the Prince hearing of his eminent service in the Fleet, &c. here he stops, and crys, but no matter, I scorn to trumpet out my own praise, though upon this very ground I was desired to attend his Grace against Maestricht, that I was the next man that entred after him, &c. Perceiving the untravell'd Company swallow down this glibly, he plyes them with more stuff of the like nature, how he, as simply as he looks, interpreted between the Emperour and the French King, and this he makes use of as an Herauld to proclaim his knowledge of Languages, if he hath any, which he prodigally flings about the table, but will hardly be induced to venture upon Latin, it is too general.

Sometimes he will pretend to have great favour at Court, and then all his discourse tends to the obtaining of suits, and cunningly sifts every mans inclinations, who would make use of the interest of a Great Man to the King, and having not so much Grace left in him as to blush, he thanks his kind Stars in bestowing on him so great an influence over powerful men, though he knows in his own Conscience he dares not (but only upon [Page] the priviledge of handsom fashionable cloaths) presume to peep within the Court-gate.

Dinner being ended, which is commonly extraordinary, to entice Guests to come, and though the Master loses by it, yet he knows he shall lick himself whole by the benefit of the Box, I say after dinner the general proposition is play, which crosses the Proverb, for though their Bellies be full yet they will not let the Bones be at rest; Box and Dice are made ready and Waiters to attend.

Hear note, that the prudent Gamester will not swear at play, because it argues a violent impatience of parting with his money, and betrays his want and neediness, and, therefore, that none may undervalue him for his supposed necessity, when he hath lost his money, he sits down as patiently as a disarm'd man does, when he is in the hands of unmerciful Serjeants.

By day-light he can do little, and therefore patiently waits as an idle Spectator till the nigh approach, at which time Beasts of prey do rove abroad, and so do Rooks of all sorts, as Huffs, Setters, Biters, Cross-biters, &c. the Candles being lighted, he then is busied in a continual motion from one Table to the other, till he can discover some unexperienced person, and unskil'd in the black Art and mystery of Gaming, whom the Wheedle calls a Lamb, and like a Wolf doth [Page] seize and prey upon him, by engaging him in some advantagious Bets at first, to draw him on, and having won all his money, the common saying is the Lamb is bitten.

He is a careful observer of the Winners, of whom it shall go hard but he will borrow money by some plausible pretence. If he throws himself, he will frequently let the Box-keeper go with him, that the Rascal, by violating his trust for advantage, may lend him, when he sees good, a Tickler, that shall do his business. If he sees a Winner dropping off, he presently closes with him, and by wishing him joy in his success, and commending his prudence in leaving off a gainer, as he pretendedly hath done, he proffers him a glass of Wine, and warming him therewith, makes him repay at the Tavern that kindness with the loss of all he won, with what he had besides. If any time he thus picks up a sure Bubble, he will purposely lose some small matter at first, that he may engage him the more freely to bleed, (as they call it) and if he suffer him to go off a Winner let him look to himself the next meeting, where Wine and good Cheer shall be plentiful, but before he goes he shall pay for the roast,

When it grows late and the Table becomes thin, then is the time for the Wheedle to use his Hocus Pocus Tricks, and if there be none left [Page] whom he supposes bubbleable, to keep his hand in action, and that it may not cool, he will venture his money among those of his own profession, and then cheat that cheat can; these of late are called Rats, and when they thus engage, and playing for Coats or Cloaks, wanting mony, the winner then according to the term of Art, says, he hath bit of such a Rats tail.

I might enlarge my self very much upon this subject, but since it hath been treated of already, I shall forbear Cramben his coctam apponere, and refer you to a Book called the Compleat Gamester, discovering the manner of playing and cheating in most Games, either originally our own, or foreign invention.

From the Ordinary we will wait upon this Wheedle to his Lodging, and observe his deportment by the way; and first, if he meet with a drunken man, he will offer him his assistance in conducting him home, and pay himself for the trouble, either by picking his pocket, or pretend an abuse offer'd him, then beat him causelesly, and finally rub off with an upper Garment; if a wench chance to cross him, feigning himself more than half drunk, he swears dam him, he will give her one Bottle, the silly Whore accepts of it, and then he carries her where he is known; Venery is the least of his thoughts, it may be, some deeper design is on foot, to get mony; [Page] for having drank a glass or two, he suddainly cryes out his pocket is pickt, the house is alarm'd hereupon, and the Master being his friend, she is threatned with a Constable, who conscious to her self of former guilt of this nature (though not of this) dares not stand the test, but parting with what moneys she hath about her, is forced likewise to leave a petticoat behind in Mortgage for further satisfaction.

In his going home, if he fear meeting with the Watch, he obligeth the Drawer to accompany him, and having given him his Lesson, approaching the Constable, he falls a railing at his man in a language as lofty as High-Dutch, because he hath used him so like a Rascal, in not giving him attendance, and vows the next morning to pull his blew Livery over his cars, though he pay but eighteen pence a Week for his Lodging, and that in a Garret. If he meets with the Grand Round, he then orders his Will-with-a-Wisp to speak aloud, Sir John, will you turn this way, or down that street; if he be alone, to escape the danger, he pretends to speak no English, but hath more discretion than one had, to tell the Constable so in the same Language.

If he chance to go home seasonably to his new Lodging, (for his Rogueries oblige him to change often) he then picks up some of his gentiler [Page] acquaintance, and drawing near the door, he talks of none but Persons of Quality, with whom he hath been that day, and play'd a game at Cribbidge; about to enter his Lodging, he salutes his Companions by no other Titles than Squire, or Sir William, though all a pack of pitiful beggarly Rascals; and to raise himself a further reputation in the house, he tells his Landlady, being more credulous than her Husband, that he and his Shoal of Gallants swam through an Ocean of Canary, that he danced so much out of heels, and that in Wild-foul there flew away so much, and to confirm them in this belief, he before hand draws up a large Tavern Bill-of-fare, and dropping it in the house, loseth it on purpose to be found, and read to the increase of his reputation.

He is very solicitous to get acquaintance with some of the Actors, not out of any respect he bears to their Ingenuity, but to gain so far an interest in them, as to be let into the house now and then gratis, and upon no other score, than to pick up a Bubble, or some unpractised young Female, whom he pinches by the Fingers, and cries, Damme, Madam, were you but sensible of that Passion I have for you, you could not but instantly show some pity to your languishing Vassal, this he utters at first sight, and if the first show him no countenance, the next he comes [Page] at shall have the same Compliment; having trim'd his Wigg and careen'd his Breeches, he cruseth to and fro the Pit, (not minding the Players who Act their parts so well on the Stage, that Ladies send for them to act in their Chambers) and never is at quiet till he hath made prize of some or other, whom he tows off to a Tavern, and there rummages the Hold at pleasure.

When he intends to go on the Pad, then Inns some time before are the chief places whither he resorts, to get information of Hostler, Tapster or Chamberlain what booties they can inform him of, and by knowing the time of the Travellers setting out, and which way he goes, he knows accordingly when and how to surprize him; it is needless here to insert what Wheedles the Pad useth to effect his designs, since they are at large discover'd in Clavels Recantation, and in the life of the English Rogue, or the Witty Extravagant.

[Page]

CHAP. VI. The Wheedles of a Quacking Astrological Doctor.

BEfore I shall relate to you how Doctor Cunning-man Wheedles with his poor ignorant Patients, it is requisit I describe him by the way as briefly as I can, acknowledging my self beholding to his Character ingeniously written by my very good friend. This fellow is the fagend or Pug of a Conjurer, who wanting courage, never durst look his Grand-Sire in the face, yet loves dearly to hear of Him, and his infernal Relations; to that end he hath got Cornelius Agrippa by heart, and though he understands not Latin, yet he reads every day Trithemius his Stegonographia, the better to imprint the names of his Brethren in his memory, and to furnish his Mouth with such words as may become as dreadful to the Non-intelligent as his exorcisms, or amagical Circle with Devils crawling round it. By his serious looks he bespeaks the reputation of a knowing man, and undertakes to tell other mens fortunes meerly to supply the pinching necessities of his own, and that he may avoid [Page] the censures of the Vulgar, he by his Bills (which Chequer every pissing place) proclaims himself Secretary to God and Nature, and the Stars Privy-Councillor, that it lyes in his power to jilt the Cabinet of the Destinies, and steal thence their greatest secrets, whereas he is nothing but a meer Hocus, and his whole Art is but a well contriv'd faculty or Legerdemain to bubble inquisitive and credulous Fools of their money.

His natural impudence and a stollen Ephemeris set him up, and he begins at once to be a Student and a Professor. No sooner hath he learn'd the mystery to erect a scheme, but he fancies himself a whole Sphear above Tycho Brahe, &c. and thence forward his cloven tongue is tipt with Prophecy; let the discourse be what it will, he still speaks Astrology, and never opens his Mouth but it is bearded with a Planet.

Some say he took his beginning from a Cunningwoman, and stole this Black-art from her, whilst he made her Sea-coal fires; whose impudence and ignorance so suted with hers, that she could do no less than take him from that drudgery, and employ him in a greater, by marrying him, and making him Copartner in her secrets; if he will not condescend to this, she thrusts him out of his warm Nest half fledgd, and rambling up and down, he knows not where, hardly escaping the Cage, at length he percheth where some famed [Page] Figure flinger liv'd before, and so raiseth himself upon his reputation.

To supply his defects in learning, he will frequently quote, Ptolomy, Cardan, Eichstadius, Argol, and several others, yet never read his Accidence, however he hath raked together a damnable many hard words, with which he startles his trembling Querents, who take them for names of his Confederate Devils; which he conjures not up all at once, but intermixeth his discourse with Transition, Direction, Schemes Profectional, Radix Genethliacal, Excentrick, Epicycle, Sextile, Trine, Quartile, Acronick, Helio-centrical, and a thousand more words as terrifying. I have often wondred why so many Knights of the Cross-legd Order have been great Proficients in this deep Art and Mystery, it may be, sitting in a Garret four stories high, they have the beetter opportunity to contemplate the coelestial bodies, and search out the meaning of their respective Twincklings; But that which makes me wonder most of all, is that a parcel of pitiful, debaucht, atheistical Fellows, should so frequently look upwards, and perpetually pore on Heaven, busying themselves about a place they are never like to come to.

His groundless Guesses he calls Resolves, and compels the Stars (like Knights of the Post) to depose things they know no more than the Man in the Moon.

[Page] Some of them have so much practice they scorn to meddle with Theft, whereas it is nothing but fear that hinders him from picking the Querents pockets to help to his goods again. A poor servant that hath lost but a Silver Bodkin must put a shilling to his mouth before she can unskrew his jaws, and when she hath got them open, Baalams Ass spoke a thousand times to more purpose. Since Plate triumph'd so much in every petty Ale-house, he hath been forced to use some other means than his uncertain Art, and I commend him, he took an excellent course for a more certain discovery of goods stoln or lost either by maintaining a strict correspondence, with Budges, Gilts and Lifters, as some raw young Physical Practicers, with applauding Midwives, and recommending Nurses, or else by laying aside (into what house he comes) Bowl, Beaker, Spoon, Tankerd, or any other thing he can, undiscover'd, lay his hands upon: by the first he keeps up his credit by the same Hermetick learning Mall-cut-purse here tofore profest; and by the latter means he buoys it up to no less admiration; for he tells them how and where it lyes, to the Eastward of the house, in such an Angle, under such and such rubbish. O Wonderful! but surely he that hides can find.

At other times laying aside his Art, he hath [Page] recourse to his never failing way of sifting; if by subtle interrogatories he pumps out any thing from the Querent, he is sure to remember it so as to make use on't; and to avoid the suspition that his prediction proceeds from conjecture, he spends some time in scrawling out a Scheme, and plays the part of an Herald at Arms in ordering the Planets in their proper places, but goes no further till he receive his mony, and herein imitates a Welch Custom; The Minister at a funeral stops half way in reading the Ceremonies for the deceased, and proceeds not till some Relation pays him his fees and then goes on; then he begins to tell him back his own Tale in other language, and he takes that for Divination which is but Repetition, neither regarding antient Rules or the true positions of the Heavens, but follows his own fancy and says what he thinks will please most; and sending home some brisk young maid big with the hopes of being speedily married, she brings whole Shoals with her the next day to be resolved of the same question.

In his greener practice he meddles much with stollen goods, but being arrived to a Velvet Jacket, by the success of his Wheedling and crafty delusions, he then sends his petty Clients to the young fry of the Astrological Art, and reserves the better sort to himself to practise upon.

The young Gallant bribes him with a Guinny to [Page] know when his covetous Father will have the civility to go to Heaven, and is so pious as to double it, if by Art he can expedite his journy. The old toothless, stumpless, nay sapless Lady, cannot be quiet till he hath resolved her concerning the seventh Husband, the Married that are wearied by length of time, and other ways, inquire which shall dye first, Male or Female; the broken Citizen, flying confinement as a Contagion, asks him which way he were best his course for advantage; a young woman comes to know whether Mr. such a one will marry her to sawder up that crack he made in her virginity; to all these he dispences Oracles with a confidence equall'd by nothing but his ignorance, and if any presume to scruple his judgment, the room will be too little to hold him and them, and if they go not voluntary out, 'tis ten to one he will be so saucy as to tell them, their company is troublesom to his studious retirement.

Hell hath not three such Ministers in all its territories for amorous Intrigues, as the Midwife, Nurse, and this Astrological Bill-Doctor; for he will Pimp for a Stallion if he will bring him on his back a load of Hay. He will betray a considerable Fortune to a Foot-boy, and if he may go snips in the portion, he knows an hundred ways how to effect his design; by furnishing the young man with good cloaths as Bawds do [Page] Whores, that they may ply their business to the better advantage; then Wheedles with the Heiress, and tells her at such a time a young man, so complexion'd, featur'd, form'd, and in such a habit, she will accidentally see as she is walking home, the Stats have decreed shall be her husband, that there is no resistance to be used against their all powerful influence, and that if she should be so imprudent as to oppose their powers, she will never meet with the like opportunity, and die miserably and unpittied in a single condition. If unhapily by his means two are conjoy'd of different humors and conditions, and they condemn him for being the unlucky instrument of their misery, he excuses himself and lays the fault on Heaven by saying it is their destiny. He gives out that he is the only Love-procurer in Europe, the noise hereof attracts to his lodgings every day whole Flocks of Turtle-Doves of both kinds, who poor silly creatures buy his powder of Cuckow-pintle for an excellent Ph [...]lter, who did they not use some better means would never reap the enjoyment of their desired billing. He makes young Bubbles believe he knows the Minute, the critical precise minute wherein it is impossible for the chastest woman living to hold out, and to that purpose appoints them meetings which shall be most safe and least obnoxious to discovery.

[Page] Now as some Creatures are amphibious; living like Rats and Frogs both on Land and water, so this cunning Devil of a Doctor is equally skill'd at Scheme and Ʋrinal, and fearing he shall want mouths to praise him (being conscious to himself of his own defects and Inabilities) he opens his own wide, and where ever he comes brags out his own eulogies in running over a long Catalogue of what dangerous distempers he hath cured, and lest what he tells every one should not leave an impression deep enough in their memories, he Prints his Bills so often upon tick, that he is forced to remove his Lodgings as often, if for no other cause than to shun the incessant clamours of the needy Ballad Printer. If by Wheedling he can cheat the people into an opinion of his abilities, and make them believe he is a Scholar, because now and then he lards his lean discourse with small slices of Latin, and by this means gets a little money into his pocket, he then hath the impudence of publishing a Book of anothers writing, having neither Wit nor judgment sufficient to do it himself, with his Picture prefixt, done by an Engraver whom he bribed to make it not like but handsom, and as his stock encreases, he will have diverse of them by him cut in Brass, not half so brazen as his face, one in a Perriwig, another without, one in a Coat, and the other in a Doctors Gown and [Page] Cap, although he was never dub'd Doctor but by a Licence from the Commons.

When he is in the company of men he draws forth some of his Paper-Books, and scatters them about, as a prodigal Goose flutters about her feathers, and then with a loud voice and serious countenance, he relates what cures both internal and external he hath effected in such a County, and shows you in his book their names printed, besides several written Certificates he carries about him, pretending they came too late to be inserted. Thus he perswades the sound man to make himself sick, if for no other reason than to experiment his famous Physick; and you must not refuse to take a Box of his rare universal Pill, with a Pamphlet to wait upon it, to keep the Viper from doing you any harm; sure it must work wonderful effects in the body of man, since the supposed Author at first knew not how to write the name he gave it, but past thus from him, and the Printer, as ignorant as himself, Pillulae radiis Solis extractum, and being laught at for it, was constrein'd to bribe a boy of one of the lower Class to reconcile the difference he had made between the Substantive and Adjective.

If he be in Female Society his discourse runs in another Chanel, but fouler and polluted; for if he have not read the learned Rodericus a Castro de morbis Multerum, or the sportive Italian Sinibaldus [Page] his Gyneanthropeia; he is sure to con over and over the Man-Midwife, Culpepers Midwifery, &c. to furnish him with the names of Womens diseases and their cures: and having sifted some Servant of the house, who is sick therein, or disorder'd, according to the Age and Distemper of the Person, he possesses the Mistress thereof with a strange opinion of what wonderful feats he can do, as thus, if she hath been married any while and hath no Children, he then whispers her in the ear that her Womb is foul, and must be cleansed, for which purpose he hath incomparable Pillulae Foemininae of a purgative cleansing faculty, opening Obstructions of the lower Region, and Vains leading to the Matrix and Privy parts, by which it takes away the accidental causes of Barrenness, or he hath a Pessary, if she please to use it, &c. If he see any in the family that are troubled with the Green Sickness, Suffocations of the Womb, Fits of the Mother, or the like, he hath other Feminine Pills, which infallibly carry all offending matter from those parts incident to that Sex, and to forward or perfect the cure, he hath Restaurator Naturae (as it is called) being an excellent Spirit to restore Nature, to heal, knit and strengthen, Reins, Loin, Womb, and Spermatick Parts, strengthen conception, preventeth miscarriages, easeth after pains; as for weeping of the Womb, Whites, or Running [Page] of the Reins he hath a never failing Pill, whose name is not to be remembred without difficulty; in short, there is no disease, belonging to the body of mankind, of which he pretends not the perfect cure, and could he do all, or one half of what his Bills contain, we might then truly say, that Miracles are not ceased yet, and we might allow him to boast his knowledg in Medicine as he doth, and should not blame him for saying, that these remedies are prepar'd by a skilful hand, and rightly adapted from a true and perfect knowledge of Nature, grounded on the soundest Reason and maturest Judgment, and that, by long Experience, these Preparations are far beyond any Elixir, whatever, and are not inferiour to the best Arcanums in the Ʋniverse. Admirable Operator! that can skin a Flint, make leaf Gold of the Rays of the Sun, and make ten pounds in Silver from the powder of a Brick-bat.

As in cheating there is a Bonum utile, so in being cheated there is a Bonum jucundum, the Wheedling Quacking Impostor, impressing an expectation more pleasant than ordinary on his Patients fancies, which doth not a little tickle their dull Spleen, as rare Cordial VVaters for languishing People, called by strange names, viz. Elixir Proprietatis, Elixir Salutis, &c. restoring Drooping Spirits to life and vigour, curing old and inveterate Consumtions, Dropsies, [Page] Scurvies, and what not, cheers the heart, and are Health and Lifes Preservers, and prolongers. And, as I have heard some Mountebancks in a Rhodomontado humour swear, he deserves not to practise Physick, that cannot at any time plentifully supply his necessities with money gotten out of a Brick-bat pulverized, so it is generally known how a Heel-maker arrived to an estate of many thousands, by selling Barley water with a few drops of Spirit of Salt in it. It is strange that Persons should suffer their Purses to be gelded, and their Bodies Ana [...]zed by an huddle of such Wheedling E [...]s, as the Hatband-maker once of Moor▪ [...] G [...] smith in Barbican, and that old [...] piece of Non-sense in South-wark.

Since the practices of such Ignoram [...]es are of so general & dangerous a consequence to such as use them, I shall now open to your sight the Skulls of such as are commonly intrusted with your Health, where you may behold the Wheels of their Brain framing subtle practices to drain your Dropsical Purses, and play the Knave and Fool with your consumptive Bodies.

The Knacks and Wheedles of this Quacking Practitioner consists in three Notions. First, that a Patients grievance is either a discernable evident disease, which his own confession makes known what it is; or, Secondly, an inward Pain; [Page] or thirdly and lastly, Endemick Diseases, as Scurvy, Consumption, or Pox, this is his Theory, which is so deeply engrafted on his Dura Mater, which he either acquires at home by a fourteen years study, after he hath left making Fires for some Chymical Operator, or abroad by his money, which he gradually, or by little and little, stole from his Master, when sleep and the sumes of wine had rendred him unsensible of the Cheat; it is no difficult matter for a mans Coyn to be dub'd Doctor in Foreign places, the formality whereof most commonly consists in this, Accipiamus Pecuniam, & dimittamus Asinum.

But now let us consider how he makes applycation of the aforesaid three Notions. The Doctor demanding of his Patient the cause of his complaint, or where his grief doth lye, he replies, it may be, that he is troubled with Vomiting, Loosness, want of Appetite, Cough, bad Digesture, Difficulty of Breathing, Faintness, Jaundice, Dropsie, Gout, Palsie, Ague, Feaver, &c. all these are evident; if the Disease be not evident, the Dr. then concludes, it must be either an inward Pain, or an Endemick Distemper. The Patient then complaining of an inward Pain, the Doctor then falls to his old trade of guessing, enquiring first in what part; if in the right side under the short ribs, he tells him it is [Page] an Obstruction in the Liver; if in the left side, then in the Spleen, if in the Belly, he calls it the Colick, if in the Back, he perswades him it is the Gravel or Stone; if a Stitch in the Breast, he terms it wind or Pleurisie; and if the Person be reduced to a poor and lean Carcass, then he tells him that he is in a Consumption, but being troubled with several pains at once, as want of Stomach, change of Complexion, Looking Yellowish, Duskish, or Greenish, then Mr. Wheedle whispers him in the ear, that he is troubled with the Scurvy, or if he have running sores, spots, pimples, or botches in the Face, Arms, &c. or Nodes in the head, he calls that the Scurvy too, if the Person have the discretion to behave himself as a sober discreet man, that can go in, and come out of Brothels at such convenient times, and in such various Disguises, that, with the help of a Muffling Cloak, he passes undiscovered though he meet his wife at the Threshold; otherwise if the Patient be youthful and inclined to Venery by his Complexion, then the forementioned Disease must be called an inveterate Clap, or in down right English the Pox.

In Diseases of Women, the Mother or Matrix he accuseth: If a Child, within the space of six Months, be sick without the appearance of an evident distemper, then he affirms it is troubled [Page] with the gripes, which, if not speedily remedied, will turn to a Convulsion, but if that happen not according to his prognostication, to prevent the forfeiture of his skill and repute, he then cunningly acquaints the Mother it had inward fits, and so craftily Wheedls with her, that she poor silly Woman verily believes it: if after seven months, the Child be discomposed, it is the [...] breeding Teeth; having bred all the Teeth, i [...] it fall ill, then he avoucheth it is troubled with VVorms.

Let us a little farther consider the subtlety of his fancy in groaping out the cause of Diseases, which though cloathed with the darkest Clowds yet by virtue of this following Principle, he aims at this mark immediately, viz. that most Diseases are caused by the four Temperaments; Choler, Phlegm, Melancholy, or abundance of Blood; of these, two are hot and two cold, and so are causes of hot and cold distempers; now these four being reduced to two general Categories under the notion of hot and cold, any one, having but the sense of distinguishing Winter from Summer, may instantly appoint a cause for almost every disease; hereupon the Patient complaining, Mr. Wheedle the Doctor hath no more to do but to take him by the fist, to feel whether he be hot or cold; if cold, he summons in his cold causes, as Phlegm and Melancholy, [Page] which ready pronouncing of the Cause upon a meer touch stupifies the Patient through admiration of this Aesculapian Oracle, hitting him in the right Vein to an hairs breadth, and upon this the Patient confesseth that the Doctor undoubtedly understands his Distemper; for every morning, (quoth he) as soon as I wake, I spit such a deal of Phlegm, and moreover I am much inclined to Melancholy. This jumping in opinions betwixt them makes the Doctor swell with expectation of a large Fee, which the Patient most freely forces upon him, and so the Fool and his money are soon parted; and it is two to one but both are disappointed, the one in his judgment, the other in his belief; for suppose the Disease takes its growth from Choler or abundance of blood, there is scarce one in an hundred but is subject to spit in the Morning, and being reduced to weakness by his sickness, and in continual pain, cannot otherwise choose but be Melancholy; for mirth and cheerfu'ness seldom lodge in indisposed bodies.

I doubt I have been some what too serious for my subject in this discovery of his physical knowledge, which is no more than what any ordinary Person may arrive at in a very little time, only he hath a greater stock of Impudence to push him forward, subtlety to conceal his Ignorance in the Art and mystery of Physick, and Craft to [Page] insinuate himself into Families and acquaintance, whom he makes believe he can do wonders, and if he effect but one Cure in an hundred, that Person shall be continually quoted (nay after death) for one among some thousands on whom he hath wrought miracles by his skill in Physick. Here I might give you an account how he manageth a Stage to his advantage both in City and Country, what Tools and Cattle he carries with him (for he is not so confin'd to a Chamber but that he will sometimes mount the stage, whereon He and Merry-Andrew play the Fool to please a company of gaping Fools and Pick-pockets, but none so dexterous at that Art as the worshipful Mr. Doctor) I say so much might be said concerning his practices on the stage, that it would afford matter to fill a volume. How first his Buffoonries are exhibited in publick to attract the People, and having congregated a great many, Mr. Doctor, who is in ken, comes and ascends the Stage, where having walkt to and fro very stately, and filling his hands with papers, and small vials, he then begins to disgorge the names of those diseases he not long since swallow'd, which, like vomits, will no longer be contain'd; he then tells you what excellent Pills, Plaisters, Powders, Spirits, Oyntments, Balsoms, Waters, and Elixirs he hath for all diseases that ever were, or shall be; how he did cut off such [Page] a Wen, such a sore Brest, heal'd such an Harelip, and in confirmation hereof whole crowds of diseased persons, cured by him, ascend the Stage, and confirm the truth of his saying; to raise him further credit, he openly proclaims he will cure the Poor for Gods-sake, but those who buy his ingredients shall in the price pay for such Poor and themselves together. At length about to depart out of the Town, wherein he hath sojourn'd some time, and being on the Stage, he in a studied Speech acknowledges to the People how much he hath been beholding to them, and, to express his gratitude, if the Poor will assemble here to morrow (for he informs them he must go away that day) as many as come shall have twelve pence apiece, the People with abundance of Poor assembled the next day, and those that are able bought several of his ingredients, and fearing they should never see this worthy charitable Doctor again stored themselves with something of every thing he exposed there to sale; when he had done vending, now said he I must be as good as my promise to the Poor, and so I shall, in bestowing upon every one of them a shilling, look you then said he, here is a Powder good for all Wounds, Ulcers, Fistula's, &c. the price I sell it for is two shillings, I will take but one: here is a rich Cordial water, the price half a Crown, I will take but eighteen pence, and so [Page] after that rate went on, but when the Poor saw themselves deluded by this Wheedling knavish Doctor, they began to handle his Stage so roughly, that had not he presently fled for it, and mounting rode in all haste away, I know not but (like De Wit by the Dutch Rabble) they would have made him a sacrifice to their revenge.

But [...] proceed, our Doctor Wheedles best by Proxy, [...] more succesfully; for if he make a true so [...]d on the Trebble of the females fancy, it will p [...]duce such a Harmony as shall sound his prais [...] [...]ough City and Country, and indeed without [...]e female instruments, or she-trumpets it is [...] impossible for our Doctor (notwithstanding his own Wheedles) to arrive to a famou [...] [...]t, who having once by the musick of his [...] [...]chanted the women, doth by the same [...] [...]ubiect the opinions of men to his advant [...] [...] generally usurping or impropriatin [...] it of their husbands health to their [...]: for if a man chance to fall si [...] [...] his wife what Doctor he shall [...] gives her direction to him [...] last.

[...] shows himself [...] in Genesis, who [...]nt first to k [...]

T [...] Wheedles [Page] with his female Patient. First, (as I have said before) if she hath had no Children, he pretends to put her into the way how she may have them, than which nothing can oblige her more, most of the Sex being of Rachels humour in some measure, Give me Children, or I dye. If she be with Child, he tells her ways how to strengthen the womb, facilitate labour &c. If at any time she seems to be disorder'd, He knows she loves to be told that she is melancholy, though of never so merry a Composure, and in that part of the Litany this Doctor is a perfect Reader; if she complain of drowsiness, want of Stomach, Cough &c. he presently tells her that she is in an ill state, attended with many dangerous diseases; which all proceed from Melancholy, or probably, quoth he, from the unkindness of husband or Relations, which instantly makes the Poor Heart put finger in eye, force a deep sigh, and all this for being denied what she requested of him; this certainly assures her the impression of that Melancholy to be the Original of her distemper, since her Physitian discourses to her as much, though some months or years past, and for so doing admires him, withal intending to give an ample testimony to the World of her Doctors profound skill: but this is not all, he pursues his business, peeps into her eyes, where spying a small wrinkle or two in the inward or lesser angle, [Page] he tells her she hath had a child or two, then perswades her at her last lying in her Midwife did not perform her Office skilfully, whereby she received prejudice; by taking cold, displacing the Womb, &c. which instance squaring so exactly with the premeditated sense and opinion of his She-Patient (most women though never so well accomodated in their labour being prone to call the behaviour of their Midwife in question) he hath now produced a far greater confidence than before: and last of all to compleat his work, now at the exit, of his gulled or Wheedled Patient, of rendering her thoughts, opinion, and confidence Vassals to his Service, same, and advantage, makes one overture more of a great cause of some of her Symptoms, declaring to her she is much subject to fits of the Mother, occasioning a choaking in her throat: and here also they jump in their sentiments, scarce one woman in an hundred but one time or other is assaulted by those uterine steems, especially upon a Tempest of any of her Passions, of fright, anger, love, &c.

In the next place let us consider this Astrologicophysical Wheedle, as he is a Water-Gazer or Water-Caster also, who by the streams of the Urine pretends to gratifie his Patients nice curiosity of being resolved what was, what is, and what disease is to come; and what is more, [Page] he sometimes by his great pretended cunning aims to discover as much by the Urinal, as he does by the Stars.

By the way give me leave to relate you a story how an English Doctor at Leyden, not many years since, promoted himself by his most wonderful sagacity in Urins, hundreds, nay rather thousands repairing to this stupendious Oracle to have by that means the state of their body described. Upon his arrival, at the place forementioned, he had in his company a bold fellow that haunted the most noted Taverns and Houses of entertainment, where by way of discourse divulged the good fortune that was come to the Town by the arrival of an English Doctor, whose great learning and particular skill in Ʋrins would soon render him famous to all the Inhabitants; this being pronounced with a confidence suitable to the subject, occasioned three sick Scholars (two Hecticks and one Hydropical) then present, to make tryal of the truth of his words; the next morning, agreeing to mix all their several waters in one Urina and commit the carriage of it to him that was Dropsical. In the mean time Mr. Doctor is advertised of it by his Companion, which made him so skilful, that when the Dropsical Scholar presented him with the Ʋrinal to know the state of his diseased body, he soon gravely replied, that he observed three Ʋrins in [Page] this one Ʋrinal, whereof the two lowermost parts of the Ʋrine, appeared to him to be consumptive, and the third that floated atop Dropsical, withal that their conditions appear'd desperate, and that at the expiration of six months they should be all lodged in their graves. This admirable dexterity of discerning diseases by the urinal was soon proclaim'd by the Scholars themselves, who all having finish'd the course of their lives within the prefixd time proved an undoubted argument of his unparallel'd parts in the Art of Physick, which immediately procured him an incredible concourse of people for many years.

That the effects of confederacy in promoting a Physitian to a popular vogue are as powerful as disingenious may evidently be deduced, not only from this Narrative, but from the common design of vulgar Empericks, who to raise their fame high as a Pytamid send forth several Mouthers to Mouth in all publick places, Taverns, Coffee and Ale-houses their vast Abilities, expecting with that bait to hook in as many Patients as will swallow it.

Sometimes, to counterfeit his great practice, he will order an Apothecary, or some other, to call him out of the Church at an afternoon Sermon to hasten with all speed to some suborn'd Patient, to the intent the People may be advertised of the weighty business the Doctor is concerned [Page] in. At other times by insinuating into the Speaking-men and Holders-forth in Conventicles he entises a far greater employ, than his real capacity in Physick can pretend to, and mounting himself there by turns tail to those who held the Stirrup to him; and by his Equipage, eminent house, and by the frequent waiting of his hired Patients on him, he gains so great a reputation in the world, as to purchase quickly either an Estate or a Prison.

To sum up all, when he is in Company where he dares presume to talk, his discourse is all Aphorisms though his Reading be only the School of Physick, Alexis Secrets, or the Regiment of Health. The best cure he hath done is upon his own Purse, which from a lean sickliness he hath made lusty and in flesh. His learning consists much in reckoning up the hard names of diseases, and the superscription of Gally-pots in an Apothecaries shop, and must be admired for his going a Simpling annually. He is hardly languag'd otherwise than in diseases, and speaks Greek many times when he knows not. He makes it one great part of his business to intrude himself where Physicians of note are consulting about some desperate cure; if he escape the ignominy of not being excluded the society, and the Patient recover, his whole discourse for a month shall be, how he and such and such Doctors [Page] of note consulting about a desperate recovery, following his advice, the Person is now in good health though given over by half the Colledge, and this breeds his reputation, and that his practice.

[Page]

CHAP. VII. Phanatick Wheedles of a Self-Edifying Non Conformist.

THe word Non-Conformist includes all Separatists from the Church of England, and therefore I have made use of it to the end I may not tire the Reader with a character of the division of their Sects, and the several Fryes that are contained under them, and seeing the distinctions would be infinite, I shall not confound him with sub-divisions and new names: for every Sect takes up a new Name with the old Villanies, they change the name but retain the Sin: he that can perswade the People that from an old Sinner he is become a New man, may under that disguise cheat with greater liberty, and by the Saints Practice prove, It is lawful for the Saints to cheat the Wicked.

You may know this sort of Cattle by these Marks: their words and their works do seldom agree; they are infinitely conceited and opinionated of their own perfections and condemn all others. A Lye in their own or a Brothers mouth is truer than truth it self in another mans. [Page] They suspect and conclude all men to be wicked but themselves.

They begin all their mischiefs in the name of the Lord, and what is unjust in another mans case, is most just in theirs. They will believe none but the confiding men of their own party. In a word the world is their Stage, and they act the Devils part thereon in the shape of an Angel of Light, a part that has been acting ever since the world began, and will not be finished until the worlds end. They are a People generally subtle, Frugal, and wary in their dealing, by which, and their large pretensions to a punctual honesty, they have engrossed a great part of the Nations Trade; and since that equivocation is as common to them as Oaths and Curses to a Losing Gamester, he that deals with them has need of more eyes then Poets bestow on Argus, for they out-wit a Genoes for subtlety, and an Amsterdam Few may serve as their Apprentice, and by their crasty trading can teach him how to make his best advantage: for, Self is the Center whereunto the lines of all their actions tend, and like an Hedg-Hog, wrapt up in his own warm Down, turns out bristles to all the world besides. They would not appear in a plain habit but to gain thereby, and therefore it was well observed by the Ingenious Satyrist against Hypocrites,

[Page]

Meekness they preach, yet study to controul.

Money they'd have when they cry out, Poor Soul;

And angry, will not have, Our Father said,

Cause it prays not enough for Daily bread.A

Their Conventicles are but a holy cheat at best, where Extempore effusions, Sanctified Non-sense, and ridiculous Fopperies flow as insensibly as excrements from desperately sickPersons, and if any accuse them for their poor, flat, jejune, impertinent, seditious and Blasphemous expressions, he is reviled by them for abasing by Nick-names those pretious Soul-piercing, yea Soul-saving, heart-breaking, Sin-destroying, yea Faith-comforting truths: calling them Boanergeses, Sons of Thunder, and so they are in some sense Sons of Thunder, for, instead of Soul-saving truths, they thunder out Soul-destroying, State-desturbing, King-reproaching doctrine: this they thunder out so powerfully, that the Sisters, those Weaker Vessels cannot chuse but fall before them, and prostrating themselves, petition the ablest Members to stand to them, professing their readiness at all times, especially in these days of more Light, or rather more light days, to lay down themselves with their whole substance, and though they may fall back a little, yet not totally fall away.

[Page] These are a parcel of Fellows who beat more on the Cushion than the Text and make the Pulpit groan more than the Hearers; thus otherwise exprest,

Sans Compliment the pretious man begins,

The suff'ring Pulpit groans for Israels Sins,

Sins which in number many though they be,

And crying ones, are yet less Loud than He:

Half melted, but more out of breath He cryes,

Not knowing what to say, He wipes his eyes;

And then at last that he may raise new fears,

And make his Gang shake their mysterious ears,

All is not well he doubts—

He is much admired and beloved too for having the Art of Memory to retain Non-sense; he speaks all by heart, never looking into his Book; indeed 'tis no wonder, for it was a thing he never was accustomed to use. He will hardly condescend (for fear of spoiling his reputation) to open his Bible when he names the Text; and if he does 'tis,

—As you'l find it writ,

Repeats his Text, and takes his leave of it,

And streight to's Sermon in such furious wise,

As made it what 'twas call'd an Exercise.

[Page] It is impossible for him to make a Preachment, but that he must rail against the Pope, calling him by an hundred more beastly names than the Grand Seignor hath titles, hating no Whore worse than her of Babylon; in the interim a prick ear'd Brother is indeavouring to gratify the Old man with a kind green Apron whom he hath in view, and the bawling Impertinence being finisht, he singles her out, and by a Lecherous touch of the hand, under the pretence of a purer salutation, he finds by her rampant pulse and tempting turning up of the Whites that her desires are at flood, and so they retire together for mutual edification.

The Speaker having raved two hours like Mahomet in his falling fits, or the Devils Priests at Delphos (who never deliver'd their lying Oracles but with extravagant gestures and strange destortions of body) he then consults his carnal interest too, and will not privately in the company of friends refuse the refreshing Bottle, provided it be not known in Gath, nor published among the wicked of A [...]kalon, for he confesseth the use of the creature (especially when it comes on free cost) to be exceeding lawful.

There is a certain fellow call'd a Wet-Quaker, & rightly so nam'd, for I have seen him drink his liquor like a Fish, and after the same fashion without passing the cup about; this man dares [Page] drink in publick, whereas his preciser Brethren do it only in private, and there is none of them all, of what Sect soever, who desire not to fare deliciously and with plenty.

On Geese and Capons with what Zeal they feed,

And wondring cry, a goodly Bird indeed.

Their speech & habits they cannot indure should be like their Neighbours, and are very curious to be in all things contrary to the common mode, that they may be taken notice of for singular men, (only private venery and luxury excepted) and are so stuft with contradiction, that they will do nothing commanded by Authority; so that the only way to have them do any thing is to forbid them the doing of it on pain of death. Having screw'd his face into a religious form and tun'd his voice to a puling sanctimonious Key, he uses it as a Low-Bell to catch Larks, or rather such Owls as will be bubbled out of their money, meerly on the repute of his conscientious dealing; though by Yea and Nay he will cheat worse than a Long-Lane Broaker; for the pretence of dealing at a word is the Hook by which he draws in his Customers, and that which engages them to come again to be cheated is, I tell thee plainly friend, and to let the world know his punctuality to his word, if his Customer tells him he will [Page] not give him so much yet returns and offers him his price he sends him away without the commodity, yet with a reproof, saying, friend, I will not be guilty of thy lye, yet values not his own; for though he will not swear, because it is unprofitable, yet lyes in many cases he holds venial, and in two meritorious, either when they make for the interest of the beloved seed, or reflect scandal on the Government.

Now since lying is so generally used and practised among this sort of People, give me leave to hold forth a little, and show you what pleasure and profit they make of Lying.

Lying in general as it is nakedly, and abstractly considered, first implyes rest, for by this means we enjoy rest, that which all things even to the lowest inanimates tend unto with a strong propension.

Secondly, Lying implyes health, that is to say in women, according to the French Proverb, La femme est bien malade quand' elle nese peut tenir sur le dos.

Thirdly, Lying implyes pleasure that is, quand' l'homme Couche avec la femme: but these are not the lyings I intend to insist upon, there are three other sorts of lying which shall be my present subject, and they are the officious, Jocose, and Pernicious lying,

First, an officious lying, and that is when a [Page] man lies with his own wife, but this is a thing out of fashion now adays, and therefore I'le but lightly touch upon it.

Every man that would be accounted honest, ought to lye with his wife ex Officio, but this Age it seems is generally grown wiser, and will not tye themselves to duty in this kind; Therefore the Italians say, Glihuomini da bene si maritano Glisavii no; honest men marry, but wise men tarry.

But there is another sort of Officious lying, hurtful to none, but profitable to most men, and may be lawfully used sometimes; as thus, if a General of an Army should see a kind of despondency in his Soldiers, and he encourage them by telling there are auxiliary forces coming to their succour though it be false, yet it may be dispensed with: Plato allowed a Lye lawful, either to save a Citizen, or deceive an Enemy; this kind of Lying Abraham used with Pharaoh, and Abimeleck, and his Servants, and the Hebrew Midwives in Aegypt.

This is of such universal use, that there is no living for Trades-men without it, and it passes as a secret Maxim not to be denied among the Self-edifying Brethren; No Lying, no Living: There are no wares scarce vended without it, either at home or abroad; they think they can gain no Custom, without this custom of Lying: [Page] oh saith one, it cost me more, when you have bid money for a Commodity; this is commonly practised in the Exchange, where scarce any thing is sold without the exchange of a Lye; and if you should seem to suspect the truth of what they say, the woman will be apt to fall on you Tooth and Nail, and you shall be pelted with the Hailstones of opprobrious words, which will fall thick about your ears like Fishwomen, who rail at their Customers for biding one third less than they demand, yet in that scolding raving fit take it.

In all Ages people have been so vicious, as to swallow a Lye glibly, if benefit accrues thereby; when Livia the wife of Augustus the Emperour promised Numerius Attieus five and twenty thousand Crowns if he would swear that he saw Augustus Caesar after his death ascend into Heaven, think you he was so great a Fool, nay Sot, to refuse so tall a Sum for an Oaths sake, no, no, Quis potest tot armatis resistere. Nay the very Brother-hood (as I have hinted before) will make no bones of being head of a Faction, nor will they Scruple to have for benefit a hand in Faction.

There is lying too for credit, as well as profit, but such a one as tells a Lye to save his Credit, wipes his Nose on his sleeve to save his Handkerchief. I shall say no more of this first head of [Page] Officious Lying; the next is jocose Lying; but since it is not much to our purpose, I shall skip it over, and come to the third; and that is pernicious Lying, and this is twofold; one is when a man Lyes, and hath neither pleasure nor profit by his Lying; he that is guilty hereof deserves to be severely censured: the second is when one hath a little pleasure at first, and hath dolour afterwards; now this is such a Lying that is destructive and hurtful to both parties; for Example, when a man Lyes in the Torrid Zone of a Betty Br—— or a Moll Sn—- &c. or some other prostituted vitiated she-bed-fellow, and gets such an heat that he can never claw off again; this sort of Lying you see is very dangerous, and healths destroyer, according to the Italian Proverb Quello che hâ un piè in Bordello hà l'altro nello Spedale: he who hath the one Foot in a Bawdy-house, hath the other in an Hospital. Those Persons that do so freely indulge themselves in such wild ranges, little consider how much their desultory promiscuous conjunctions do disturb the mind, and render it unfit to undertake serious matters; they are so much for Generation work, that at the last they wholly incapacitate themselves for the serving of their Generations; besides the many mischiefs the body receives by those fatal venerable encounters, which are often times [Page] the productives of Misery and infamy, which they intail to their posterity; for though their stolen waters seem at first to be sweet, and you shall have some Gallants in the apprehension thereof risque Fortune, honour, nay, life it self, and all to enjoy a Miss, yet they will prove waters of Marah bitter in the end.

To winde up all, I shall declare in the last place, that Lying is very edifying, it tends much to edification, for by that means the Sisters being wrought upon, will greatly encrease and multiply, and they being extraordinary plumpt up before, it is a pregnant argument of their thriving condition; now you must know, they edify not alike under all Teachers, those that they most edify by, are a certain confident sort of declamers, who mount the Pulpit as Mountebanks do the Stage, with equal impudence and ignorance, they vent the foolish and ridiculous whimsies of their distemper'd brain, for profound and solid Divinity; they admire these most, and account them the ablest men, especially that are of long standing, not caring how short they are of understanding: much more might be said, but let this suffice for this time.

There are another sort of Godly Wheedles, who labour wonderfully till they sweat again in their Weekly exercises, where a Fleet of Coaches arive laden with sanctified Silk, and other [Page] rich Commodities to truck for Wind, as Marriners at Lapland do with Witches.

These babbling Pains-takers are those Medusas heads environ'd with Snakes, whose Carkasses are cram'd with venom, and yet have such lovely flattering outsides as would deceive Eve again if she liv'd in Paradise, and do beguile her progenie to this day, whose Groans and Whinings haue deluded more than Mahomet and his Pidgeon: and with their labouring hands they have so moulded that silly Sex, called women, that they will receive no other form but that of Non-Conformity. They have heard their Teachers talk so often of the Rag of Rome, that they think Popery a very sluttish Religion, and rail at the Whore of Babylon for a very naughty Woman. They look upon it as a damnable Sin (if in health) not to be present at Weekdayes Exercise, and esteem them above Sundays, because devotion being customary, theirs is lost in the Multitude, and cannot be observed.

At one of these meetings, how doth the pretious Man melt the strong and stony hearts of the Sister-hood. Into how many forms doth he distort his Face to insinuate into the Auditory; he sometimes shuts his eys so close as if he were asham'd of himself, place and company, and then suddainly blasts them up, as if he intended to caper through the Roof to be rid of them.

[Page] What an heart-converting sight is he in a Conventicle, when he heth exalted himself and is doing Penance in the surface of a white Cap environ'd with a long Mourning Cloak, which helps instead of an Hum or Ha to spend time by pulling it forwards, first on one shoulder, than on the other, whilst the unwilling matter which sticks below is pull'd up and brought to utterance, and then 'tis hard if any escape conversion, I mean of being converted to his use; by his divine Rhetorick he conquers the men, and consequently must overcome the women, and though his pretences are Piety, for the most part, you shall find his designs are nothing else but honour and profit; he indeavors to be admired and esteemed by the Brethren as a pretious Heavenly-minded man, whilst in the mean time he aims at nothing more than self-interest: thus elegantly exprest by a late Satyrist.

Two Caps he had, and turns up that within;

You'd think he were a Black-Jack tipt with Tinn,

Now when he did relate, how little wit

The Foolish Virgins had, then they do sit

Weeping with watry eyes, and making vows

One to have Preachers always in her house,

To dine 'em well, and break-fast 'em with Gellies,

And Candles hot to warm their wambling Bellies;

And if the Cash (where she could not unlock it)

Were close secur'd, to pick her Husbands pocket.

[Page] And as by all outward demonstrations of sanctity he indeavours to make himself famous among such as are of his Congregation, so by his Example he teacheth them to gain a reputation one amongst the other by the same way of pretended Piety, and that they may the more infallibly effect their design, they seldom pray but it shall be next the street, and at such times as the noise in the street shall not be so loud as their voices; and after evening Sermon it will not be amiss for him to sing a Psalm, it will add very much to his credit, and the continual practice of it, for ought I know, may keep him from being Shipwrackt in the turbulent Ocean of his greatest misfortunes.

Here I might expose our Wheedling Saint to shame enough by discovering his nakedness, and pulling off that Vizard-Mask with which he doth deceive the World: but when I consider that it is impossible to enumerate half his cheats, and they are so frequently practised that every one meets with them, I purposely forbear any particular account, referring you not only to the History of the late times, wherein they swarm, but likewise to your own experience.

To conclude, instead of a Catalogue I present you with a Chariot, which, like Phaeton's, sets the world on fire. This Chariot is the Self-edifying Phanaticks cheat I now speak of; the Wheels [Page] are the Ignorance of the People, and the Admiration they have of him; the Horses that draw this Chariot are his Pride and Covetousness; the Self-edifyer is the Driver, and a Conventicle is his Whip. The Chariot hath almost a Stage in every Town of all Countries, and travels up and down the World being carried to every thing by the Horses Pride and Covetousness.

The first Wheel is Ignorance, and this is a good Wheel, on this the Chariot runs swiftly; where the People are learned the Chariot moves slowly; Letters are like Clogs, and good Rudiments are such a But then it cannot stir; where men are well educated in the principles of Religion this Chariot can hardly pass, but amongst the Ignorant it runs post.

The Second Wheel is Admiration, which is as good as the other; for when he has once insinuated himself into them, so that they have a good opinion of him and admire him, then the Chariot gets ground and flies merrily, then all he says is Gospel, nay more authentick than the Gospel it self, and having thus gotten possession of their hearts, he can seize when he pleases any part or parcel of their estates; and their whole families are at his devotion.

Of the Horses, Pride or Covetousness, I cannot tell which excels. Pride has most Mettle, but Covetousness is the surest Drawer. To be applauded [Page] for Excellent parts, for a Singular man, for a Gifted man, for a Leading man, to be called Rabbi, to be esteemed a sure Guide of Souls, a true setter of Conscience, to be wiser than those that follow him; to have liberty to speak what he pleases, and that more to the Nodification than Edification of the Beholders, these preheminences puff up, and make him presume to take the wall of his Betters, and sp ak imperiously to his superiours. A little Pride many times induces a great Cheat, yet this Horse is often jaded; for although our seeming Saints ambition makes him aspire above Heaven itself, yet frequently I have known, when Covetuousness draws one way and Pride another, Covetuousness has got the better, and went away with the Chariot. To be Head of an Assembly, Sole Teacher and Instructer is very acceptable; but a good Living, a Fat Benefice hath made our Saint leave them all, and be subordinate to legal Authority; it is but Preaching a Recantation Sermon at most, and if the great government should change (as God forbid it should) it is but face about again.

Thus have I known Mechanicks lay aside their Trade being lazie or not able to live upon it, and first turn seekers, and from thence travel through as many Various strange opinions as there are in Ross's Pansebeia, at length, having [Page] gotten by religious prating enough to subsist upon, have turn'd tail to all and having tryed all Religions have in the end acknowledg'd none: This again according to the Saiyrist.

Every Mechanick, either wanting stock

Or wit to keep his Trade, must have a Flock;

The Spirit crys he moveth me unto it,

And what the Spirit bids, must not I do it?

But profiting more than his Flock by teaching,

And stept into Authority by Preaching,

For Lay-office leaves the Spirits motion,

And streight retreateth from his first devotion.

But to return where I left off, which was the Second Horse in this Chariot, Covetuousness; this is it which makes him prey upon the Brethren themselves, he has warmed their Zeal so hot by pressing the Duty upon them of raising Money to build a Conventicle, they have contributed one would think enough to build one, but that is not sufficient had it been twice as much, but more being rais'd, the foundation is laid and the structure is rais'd but cannot be finish'd without a third contribution, which is prest, after the Sermon is ended, in this or the like manner. Beloved, you are not insensible of the pains I have taken to raise an house for the Lord for his glory and our mutual comfort, [Page] yet all my indeavours will become as nothingness, I shall sink under the burthen if you lend me not once more your assisting hands. Beloved, in a Word, do as a Widow did in this present Congregation; when she heard that the work of the Lord was began, though a poor Cinder woman, she brought me five shillings, professing she had but two groats left to buy her and her children food till she had wrought for more, and I took it kindly from her; when she saw this good work so nearly finisht as you now see it, she then brought me ten shillings, which she said was all she had, and I took it from her; Beloved, rather than the work of the Lord should not go on but stand still as the Sun did in Joshuas time, be as this poor Widow, bring again and again, and think not much to lay out all for Christ, &c. This Conventicling house in now finisht, which at a distance appear'd to me to be some Noblemans house newly built for the benefit of the air, but when I was told it was a new erected Conventicle, it impudently stood so near an orthodox Church, that I thought this fanatical Cathedral had robb'd Stepney of her Steeple.

Another had money sufficient given him to build a Conventicle, and when it was built he made use of the House for himself, and turn'd the Brethren out, telling them the House was not so convenient as he thought it would have been, [Page] and that he knew of another place much fitter for the purpose, and wrought upon them so that they made a new collection and built another House: and thus this Self-edifier hath serv'd then so three or four times, converting their Conventicles into dwelling Houses.

Ah, This Horse, Covetousness, is an unruly Beast, he draws our Saint to all manner of Vices, to Lying, Hypocrisy, knavery in dealing, nay even to the sins of the flesh; many yea many a time hath he drawn our Saint to his Neighbours wife, and there so kicked and frisked that he hath thrown him upon her; ah! threw him even upon her.

This Horse is so ungovern'd that no man can live in quiet near this Saint, he breaks down his Neighbours fences, eats up his grass and his corn, and is so often taken dammage fesant, that was he not a serviceable Horse, and very profitable to this Saint, he would not keep him.

One faculty this Horse has which makes his Master highly prize him, he is an excellent Stretcher of Conscience, take him in a morning when he is fresh, and put him to the Self-edifying Saints Conscience, he will draw it so wide that 'twill swallow any thing. In the next place we come to the Whip, which is no common whip, but a whip of many Cords most suitable to his designs, and that's a Conventicle, and in which [Page] are many rich men, and they serve as so many Cords for the Horse, Covetousness; in it are many Admirers of this Pseudo-hagist, and they serve as so many Lashes for the other Horse, Pride. These motives are the Spurs that prick on the Palfreys which hurry away the Chariot.

He is never so rampant as at a Conventicle; here his Pride snorts and prances, spurns against Government, condemning and contemning all that are not of his way, and scornsully pitting all those poor lost Creatures that gainsay a Meeting-House. Ah poor Souls! they live in sin, they are stupified, and have no sense of the joy and Refreshments that we have at our Meetings, &c.

In the mean time Covetuousness claps his Tail betwixt his Legs, lays his ears close to his head and leers at the rich and wealthy Brethren. He pulls the Chariot hard towards the Sisters Silver and Gold Bodkins, and with such Concupiscence, that sometimes he gets Bodkin Sister and all.

It is fit I should now inform you how he handles his Whip, and the place where Policy hath taught him to put the Whip: That Alehouse, that Inn, that Tavern is best scituated, and most dexterously contrived that hath a thorough-fair (as 'tis called) in it, for by that convenience custom is gain'd; so our Saint that hath all the Tricks of a Tavern or Tipling-house, [Page] hath likewise this, and places his Conventicle where there may be a Common way or passage through it, in hopes thereby to catch some silly Gudgeon or other that comes near his Net; so Mountebanks gain Company: and he well knows that many persons fall into the loose sport of Pidgeon-holes meerly upon the occasion of passing by them.

In a word his whole life is nothing but an holy Wheedle, he prays with men at home one day to beg or borrow the next; he preaches himself into a sweat till he stink again in the Conventicle, that concluding his Sermon with a prayer for the people, he may then use that opportunity to pray them to consider his necessities, and having reminded them of their former liberal contributions he then reproves them for slackning their hands. Ah! says be, are not these sad times? Is not this a sad Age? When the Saints and Children of God are so slow to good works. Mistake me not, the sadness doth not arise from my want of that abundance of money your liberal contributions used to suply me with, but from this that your defect herein is a sign you are fallen from Grace, 'tis a sign your Zeal is not so warm as it has been, 'tis a sign the Doctrine we preach has not such an influence upon you as it ought, 'tis a sign of a dissolution, and that the World will be at an end.

[Page]

The Wheedle of the Shop-keeper.

MEthinks I see him standing at his Shopdoor this cold Weather, either blowing his fingers, eagerly waiting (if he be a young Man) for one kick at the Ball, or basting his sides with his own hand, and so makes every cold day a Good-Friday to chastise him for the sins he hath committed. If any person pass by him, and but looks into his shop, he fondly imagins him a Customer, and intreats for his own necessities by asking others what they lack; if any chance to step in, he hath Hocus tricks enough to delude them, and rarely shall they stir out, like sheep engaged in Bryers, but they shall leave some Fleece behind them.

Some have dark shops, with false lights, which wonderfully set off a commodity: others for want of that make use of their tongues, arogantly commending their own things, and protesting whatever they exhibit to view is best in the Town, though the worst in his shop; his words are like his wares, twenty of one sort, and he goes over them alike to all Comers; and when he hath done with his yard, he invites you to the Tavern, to oblige you for the future; you may there soon [Page] measure his understanding, which extends no further than the Longitude of his shop, but for the latitude of his Conscience it is as little known as the North-west-passage: Others say that he has no such thing now as Conscience; for finding it a thing that was likely to lye upon his hands, he was forced to put it off, and in its stead took upon him the pretence of Religion, that by the profession thereof he might take the greater liberty of Lying, which he does by rote, having spent most of his time in learning that Art, and the language, and crafty phrase of selling dear, and that to his friends, and acquaintance, rather than other persons, knowing he can make more bold to cheat them, than Strangers; from hence you may gather that he never speaks more truly than when he says he will use you as his own Brother, you may believe him, for he will not stick to abuse the nearest Relation he hath in this kind, and in his Shop thinks it lawful. He is commonly of that Religion which brings him in most Customers, and is never more angry at others tenets, than when they bring him in no profit, and so by a mis-interpreted sense of Scripture, to him Godliness is great gain. How obsequious, and full of cringes he is to him that pays ready money, but where he does befriend a man, he is a Tyrant, and by his frequent duns makes a man weary of his native Country. One [Page] thing I like in him very well, he takes special care of not letting Conyes burrough in his Shopbook, knowing 'twill be hard ferretting them out again.

In he be rich, he not only commands a credit, but hath the benefit and previledge of paying his money when he pleases, and the poor Creditor many times when necessitated for it dares not make a demand for fear of losing his Customer; the intrigues of buying and selling are infinite, nor is it possible for any to enumerate them but A Jack-of-all-Trades; Wherefore I shall leave him with all his tricks, and delusive devices, and come to the poor cracking Shop-keeper, whose credit being out at Elbows, what hard shifts doth he make to keep himself from sinking, and lays hold on every petty thing that is next him; like a Lover, he is so continually tired with breaking of Oaths, Faith, Vows, and promises, that he hath neither time, nor strength to perform any other exploit.

A Saturday is the Mclancholiest part of the whole Weck, not so much by reason of the frappish, and humoursom Planet that governs it, but by reason of too many insufferable Dunns who tread the streets in terrour, and that's the reason some Citizens can as well be hang'd as keep out of Nine-pin-houses in Moor-Fields on this day, to be out of the sight of those ghastly apparitions [Page] that haunt their Ghosts at the heel of the Week. Poverty, and Necessity, the God of the Andreans, that could stop the mouth of Themistocles, cannot appease the wrath of a City creditor, whose empty mony bag twisted about his hand is as killing as a Gorgons head; and therefore 'tis well the poor man is out of the way, and is only practising those sports which are like to be his only lively-hood in short time; and what a kindness it is for a man to be removed from the cares, and labours of this world to the sweet pleasures of drinking, smoaking, and other sportive recreations.

'Tis well these Desperado's in Estate are not so strong as Sampson, for they would then not put their Landlords key underneath the door, but take away key, house, and all. VVhat abundance of Travellers should we meet upon the Road with Houses, and Shops furnished? And what Landlord seeing a man standing on the Sea-shore with his house upon his back, swearing he would send it to the bottom of the Ocean, but would come to any composition? Besides they were out of the reach of the Law; for there is no Statute in Bolton against removing Houses, so a man carry them whole without breaking; but the lineaments of Fate are certain; the Cobler cannot go beyond his Last: therefore now adays it is better for Debtors to fall to their prayers, beseech, [Page] as Daniel out of the Lyons Den, or Jonas out of the Whales belly.

I shall conclude with a word of advice, he that has a Creditor over-cholerick, let him not be too hasty; for 'tis time, and Straw that mellow Medlors; but should thy Adversary make use of a Lawyer, do thou make use of a Lawyer and an half, and having brought thy Noble to Nine-pence, never spare at the bottom, and having whitten thy Mil-post to a Pudding-prick, in the full of the Moon go hang thy self, lest Poverty and cold Weather overtake thee napping together.

[Page]

CHAP. VIII. The Practicing APOTHECARY;

IN Galens time, and many Ages after him; Medicines, for their greater secrecy, were prepared and composed by Physicians only; but people growing numerous, and diseases encreasing by intemperance, their multiplicity imposed a necessity upon Physicians (being unable to attend all their Patients as formerly) to dismember their Art into three Parts, the servile into Chyrurgery and Pharmacy.

The Physician (as I said before) having variety of Patients, and having not leisure to make up his own Medicines, caused his servant to setch them already prepared from the Apothecary, and from thence to convey them to the Patient, by which means the Apothecary was kept in ignorance, as to the Application and Use of the said Medicines, not being suffered to be acquainted with the Patient, nor the Diseases, lest they should presume to venture on Practice. In time, the Physicians honour and vast riches in the eye of the Chyrurgion and Apothecary, proved seeds sown in their minds, that budded into Ambition of becoming Master, and inro covetousness [Page] of equalling them in wealth, both which they thought themselves capable enough of aspiring to by an Empyrical skill, the neglect of their Masters had given them occasion to attain unto, for they sent them to their Patients with Medicines, and did entrust them with the preparation of their greatest secrets.

This trust they soon betrayed, for having insinuated into a familiar acquaintance with their Patients, perswaded them, that those that had made and dispensed the Medicines, were able to apply them to the like distempers, as well as they that had prescribed them; by this means they arrived to a Copartnership with their Masters in reputation, title and estate, and having got enough, they scorn to take pains by manual operation, as formerly, but leap boldly out of a shop into a Doctorship. The Booksellers original in some measure runs parallel with the Apothecaries: Before Printing was there was Book-binding, for what Manuscripts were then in being, were made publick by transcribing them, by certain Clerks writing a good Hand, and made a livelihood thereof; the written Books were convey'd to the Binder, who bound them after what manner the Owner directed him, as Authors [Page] and Books encreased, so did his profit by his Trade, insomuch that some of these Binders g w rich, and purchased so many Manuscripts as to furnish a Shop indifferently according to those times, and dying left their sons well stockt; but Printing comeing in, broke the neck of the writing Clerks, but yet gave a considerable lift to the rising Book-binder, who not only bound for others but himself, and Printing his own Copies, had work enough to do to bind his own books, his stock encreasing by the benefit of Printing, it was business enough for him to minde his Shop, and see that his servants pleas'd his Customers, and now resolves to work no more: His sewing-Press lies mouldy in the Garret, his Plow neglected lies, and his Knives rust; the skrews of his standing and his cutting-Presses have forgot their wonted duty, and stubbornly won't stir an inch for any; his Marble-moody-beatingstone weeps incessantly to see the weighty Hammer lie rusting in a corner unregarded: In short, if he work it is for his pleasure, and what pains he takes now and then in binding of a book is his Pastime. The Sonne after his Fathers Decease scornes the mean Title of a Bookbinder, and therefore employs others, [Page] and is henceforward stil'd a Bookseller; and the rest of his Brethren, who are able, follow his example. Thus, as Binding formerly was the Rise of a lazy Bookseller, so many a Doctor now adays had formerly a hand in scouring the skillets, and having with slavery and difficulty served his time, set up, but having very little interest in the Doctors of the Colledge, and other Grandees, whose single Practice is enough to make an Apothecary, he takes pet, and leaving his shop out of spight, takes at first a Chamber, and hangs it with Pots, Glasses, Boxes, &c. and the ruines or remains of his broken Profession, and by them and his Bills gets the reputation of an able Doctor.

And now give me leave to touch a little upon his Wheedles. Suppose your self to be troubled with any distemper, it matters not which, for all is one to him, or his like you send to; upon his Arrival he feels your Pulse, and with a fixt eye on your countenance tells you your spirits are low, and therfore it is high time for a Cordial. The next Interrogatory he gravely puts to you, as, When were you at stool, Sir? If not to day, he promises to send you a Laxative-Glister by and by; and if you complain you have a Loosness, then in stead of one Laxative, [Page] he will send you two healing Glisters: if besides, you intimate a pain in your stomach, back and sides; then responding to each pain you shall have a stomach-Plaister, another for the right and left side, and another for the back, and so you are like to be well patched or clowted every way.

Now before we proceed, let us compute the charges of the first day: Here is a Cordial composed by the directions of an old dusty Bill on his File, out of two or three mustie Waters, especially if it be towards the latter end of the year, it be a Citron, a Borrage, & a Bawm water, all very full of spirits, if River-water may be so accounted; To these is to be added an ounce of that miraculous Treacle-water, then to be dissolved, an ounce of Confectio Alkermes, and an ounce of nauseous Syrup of Clove-gilly-flowers; this being well shaken in the Viol, you shall spy a great quantity of Gold swimming in leaves up and down, for which your Conscience would be burdened, should you give him less then five shillings for it; from the meanest Tradesman, without the least abatement, he expects three shillings six pence. The Glister shall be prepared out of two or three handfuls of Mallow-leaves, and an ounce of common Fennil-seed, boil'd in water to a [Page] Pint, which strained, shall be thickned with the common Lenitive-Electuary, Rape-Oyl and brown Sugar, and seasoned with Salt; This shall be conveyed into your Guts by this young Doctors man, through an Instrument he commonly carries about him, which makes him smell so wholesom, for which piece of service, if you present your Engineer below half a Crown, he will think himself worse dealt with then those who empty the Close-stool-Pan. The Master places to account for the Gut-Medicine (though it were no more then water and salt, and for the use of his man which he calls Porteridge) eight groats. Item, for a Stomachick, Hepatick, Splenetick and Nephretick Plaister, for each half a Crown. The next Afternoon or Evening returns the Doctor-Apothecary himself to give you a visit, for should he appear in the Morning, it would argue he had little to do, and finding upon examination you are rather worse than better, by reason those Plaisters caused a melting of the gross humours about the bowels, and dissolved them into winds and vapours, which fuming to the head, cause there a great paine with dulness and drowsiness, and part of 'em being dispersed [Page] through the Guts and Belly, discommode you with a Cholick, a swelling of the Belly, and an universal pain or lassirude in all your Limbs; thus you see one day makes work for another. However he hath the wit to Wheedle you into an opinion that they are the signs of the operation of Yesterdays means, beginning to move and dissolve the humours; which successful work is to be promoted by a cordial Apozem, the repetition of a Carminitive Glister, another cordial to take by Spoonfulls, and because your sleep hath been interrupted, by the unquietness of swelling humours, he will endeavour to procure you for this next night a Truce with your disease by an Hyprotick potion, that shall occasion rest. Neither will he give you other cause then to imagine him a most careful man. and so circumspect that scarce a symptom shall escape his particular regard, and therefore to remove your Head-ach by retracting the humours, he will order his young Mercury to apply a Vesicatory to the Nape of your Neck, and with a warm hand to besmear your belly and all your joynts, with a good comfortable Ointment for to appease your paines. [Page] The Cordial Apozem is a Decoction that shall derive its vertue from two or three unfavoury Roots, as many Herbs and Seeds, with a little Syrup of Gilly-flowers, for three or four times taking, which because you shall not undervalue, by having it brought to you all in one Glass, you shall have it sent in so many Viols and Draughts, and for every one of 'em shall be placed three shillings to your account, which is five parts more then the whole stands him in; for the Cordial potion as much, and as much for the Hyprotick; the like price for the Carminative Glister; and for the Epispatick Plaister a shilling. Thus with the increase of your disease, you may see the increase of your Bill. The third day producing an addition of new symptoms, and an augmentation of the old ones, the Patient stands in need of new comfort from his Doctor, who tells him that Nature begins to work more strong, and therefore all things go well; but because Nature requires all possible assistance from Cordials and small Evacuations, he must expect the same Cordials over again, but with the addition of greater Ingredients, it may be Magistery of Pearl, or Oriental Bezoar in powder, the former being ofttimes but Mother of Pearl dissolv'd in distilled Vinegar, the latter a Cheat the Armenians [Page] put upon the Christians, by ramming Pebbles down a Goats throat, afterwards killing him, and extracting the stones before witness out of his Maw, which they sell for those rare Bezoars, whereof the quantity of fifteen Grains hath been taken by a Child of a year old, that lay ill of the Small Pox, without the least effect of Sweat, or any expulsion through the Pores. And besides, the repetition of a Glister, and the renewing of your Plaisters for the profit of your Physician, you must be perswaded to accept of a comfortable Electuary for the stomach, to promote digestion; of a Collusion to wash the slime and filth of your Tongue, and to secure your Gums from the Scurvey; of a Melilot plaister to apply to the blister that was drawn the night before; of some spirit of Salt to drop into your beer at meals; of three pills of Ruffi to be swallowed down that night, and three next morning, which possibly may pleasure you with three stools, but are to be computed as two Doses, each at a shilling: the spirit of Salt a Crown the ounce; for the Stomach-Electuary as much, for the Glister as before, for your Cordial in relation to the Pearl and Bezoar, their weight in Gold, which is two pence a Grain, the greatest cheat of all; for dressing of your blister a shilling, for the [Page] plaister as formerly. Now if you shall reflect on the Total, that shall arise out of this Arithmetical progression of charge of a Fortnights physick, modestly computed, at fifteen shillings a day, without the inclusion of what you please to present him for his care, trouble, and attendance. I will not harbour so ill an opinion of him, or give so r'gid a censure as your self shall, upon the following Oration, your Glister-pipe-Doctor delivers to you with a Melancholy Accent in these terms: Sir, I have made use of my best skill and indeavours, my Master was one of the ablest Apothecaries in and about London, whom I faithfully and carefully served eight years, in which time, and since I have administred for my self, I have seen the best practice of our London Physicians, and Ile assare you I have given you the best Cordialls that can be prescribed, yet all will not do, your case is dangerous, and I think if you send for such a one, Doctor—he is an eminent man, and one I know very well. Now would I fain know how the Patients pulse doth beat, to hear this practicing Apothecary preach him his Funeral Sermon whilst he is yet living, and the loss of his money cannot but add to his pain, had he not at first been penny-wise and pound foolish, he might have prevented all this by sending for a Physician, who for the small [Page] merit of a City-Fee, would have struck at the root of the Distemper, without tampering at its symptomes and branches; and now should this Apothecary be cald to an account, as to what he hath administred, he shall answer (I warrant you) that he hath given him nothing but Cordials, which word Cordial, he supposes to be a sufficient protection for his erroneous Wheedling-practice. Should this his Cordial-Method be continued in a Fever, or any other acute distemper, for eight or ten days, the Patients Heires would have been particularly obliged to him for giving him so Cordial a remove out of his possession.

Lest I should be accused of Partiality, by concealing what may be pleaded, for the practice of Apothecaries, I shall conclude this Chapter with a short Apologie; for so doing, in the first place consider that many a substantial Citizen may have the ill luck to have a servant taken sick in his house, why should he upon every slight occasion or accident fling away ten shillings on a Doctor, when an Apothecary, at a venture, by Vomit, Purge or Glister, may for the charge of a shilling or two remove the Distemper, [Page] his success herein sometimes makes him bold and confident, especially considering that he practices on his inferiours, for if they miscarry he excuses whatever error he hath committed, by asserting he was importuned, or rather forced to it by their Master. On the other side, should an Apothecary, being thus called unto a sick servant, or a mean Tradesman, whose condition by reason of his charge of Family is little better, refuse this assistance, disobliges the Master, loses the practice of his Family, and turning away his Patient, shall immediately send to the next, who shall most willingly embrace the employ; whence may be observed, the one necessarily fpurs on the other to practice, and he that can wheadle best skrews himself into most Families. A third import greater then any of the former is, that Doctors all or most, being tied to particular Apothecaries, prescribe their bills in terms so obscure, that they force all chance Patients to repair to their own Apothecaries, pretending a particular secret, which only they have the Key to unlock, whereas in effect, it is no more then the commonest of Medicines, disguised under an unusual name, on design to direct them to an Apothecary, between whom and the Physician there is a private compact of going snips, out of the [Page] most unreasonable rates of the said Medicines, wherein if a redress be sought by shewing the bill to the Doctor, he shall most religiously aver, it is the cheapest he ever read, the consequence whereof is a double fraud, but they have greater, or it would never be said, Three goed Patients in the Spring makes the Doctors Pot boil all the Year.

And as to the Apothecaries in general, their number bearing the proportion of at least ten parts to one of noted Physicians, to whom allowing each his Covenant-Apothecary, who constituting but one part of the ten, the remaining nine parts of the number, are compelled either to sit still, or to Quack for a livelihood; or at least eight of 'em, for we'll one part of the nine in a possibility of acquiring competent estates, in a way more honest then that of the Covenanteers, by their whole-sale trade of fitting Chyrurgions Chests for sea, and supplying Countrey-Apothecaries with Compositions.

And now to conclude, I must not omit the injuries the Covenant-Apothecary does, not only to the ignorant Patient, but the learned Physician, by his ignoble wheedling and insinuation. Being sent for by a Patient, after a short Essay of a Cordial, he instantly overpowers him by persuasion, to call in a Doctor [Page] who shall be no other then his Covenant-Physician, by which means the former Physician, that by his extraordinary care and skill had obliged the Family before, shall be passed by, and lose the practice of that Patient. And should it happen, the sense of gratitude of the forementioned Patient, should engage him to continue the use of his former Physician, yet this Covenant-Apothecary shall privately cavil at every Bill, and impute the appearance of every new small pain or symptom, (which necessarily in the course of a Disease will happen) to his ill Address in the Art of Physick, and shall not give over before he hath introduced his Covenanteer, whose authority in the fraud of a Physick-bill he supposes to be most necessary.

I might have insisted on the excellency of form and feature of an Apothecary, relating how many advantages he hath over others of his occupation, that hath a face and body so well qualified; but since it is of general use to all Wheedles whatsoever, I shall say no more then this, that if an Apothecary be handsom and young, he hath an infinite influence over all the Females wheree're he comes, and rather then be without bewitching visits, they will [Page] be sick on purpose; if sick some are, the sight of him works more healingly then his physick, and in their hot distempers, were it not for shame, they would deprive the Women of their wonted Office, and none should administer them a cooling Glister but himself.

CHAP. IX. The Countrey-Attorney, Pettifogger, and other Law-Hangers-on.

THE Inns of Court are the General Rendez-vouz of young Gentlemen from all parts of England, some whereof are not more noted for their Extraction, as for their Education, excellent Parts and Learning; yet as the purest floure hath some bran, so these refined Wits are not without the mixture of talkative, impertinent, trifling and debautched persons; ‘Here it is that you may see in a Winter-Tearm, at Dinner-time, in their Halls, a drowsie Company of formal fellows, [Page] stand purring over a fire, who after a long and painful study, of thirty years have attained to the wonderful and gainful [...]rt of speaking nonsense, with the greatest confidence in the world, and when they walk, to carry their eyes and noses directly before them, not daring to turn their weighty noddles on either side, for fear of forfeiting their Gravity. There are another brood of men, who start from the Desk; and snatch up a Gown, and having first in their infancy been swadled and nursed up in rags of paper, are at riper years (somtimes out of Poverty) put Clerks to Attorneys, from whence, without the least taste of University-Learning, they advance, swell'd with Presumption, and full of ignorance and impudence, to the Barr; profit and lucre then becomes the only subject of their conversation; Gain gives motion to all their actions' and that also is the end of all their Arguments, whilst Reason and Honesty are oft made Factors to their avarice; if ever you have occasions that force you to make use of these Persons, or to seek any favour from them, they expect from you the greatest attendance and submissions; but where money is to be gotten, they on the contrary will be as base and servile in their flatteries; how repugnant soe're this is, you must dispose your self,’ (if you intend, as well as they, ‘to act the Wheedle advantageously) and when [Page] your thoughts are at strife about it, call it a submission to necessity and occasion.’ Vide L' Art du Complair, elegantly translated, and called The Art of Complaisance. Lord, one would wonder some of these Upstarts should so strut it in Gown and other Finery, since their ancient beginning was but a blew Coat, and as I have been told, the Wearers thereof stood at the Hall-Gate, as Plying Water-men at the Stairs; And as the one cries to London-hay, the other cry'd (seeing any approach) D'ye want a Pleader, d'ye want a Pleader? My young Attorney, newly hatcht under a Lawyer, and whilst but pen-feather'd, nests for himself, and either practices in anothers name for half-fees (which he makes whole by acting too as a Sollicitor) or else by the hoorded pence of an indulgent Mother, purchases an Office, two Desks, and a quire of paper, with a pint of Ink, and an hundred of Quills, and a Pen-Knife true set, set him up; his Office shall be lined with green, and the wood adorned with Taffarels and carved work, his shelves fill'd with paper and parchment, and a Practice of Piety lies not more certainly in a Brothel, as The Statutes at large, or some Folio Law-book in his window; These in time purchase him an App [...]entice or two, with a considerable sum, and his [Page] success in two or three common Causes proclaim him an able Attorney; this procures him Clients, more then he can mind, and they produce him money, more then he knows well what to do with, and having gotten a wife with a good estate, minds the Tavern more than the Court.

Some of them have the smatch of a Scholar, and yet use Latin very hardly, and lest it should accuse them, cut it off in the midst, and will not let it speak out; and fearing that his Hand-Writing should prove Traitor to his actions, it is as difficult to be understood as his countenance, which always looks sollicitous, (unless disordered by some liberal Treat, it matters not at whose cost, whether Plaintiff or Defendant, so that it brings in Grist to the Mill, and benefit from both sides) I say, to amuse the ignorant his looks seem careful, importing much hast and dispatch, whilst he only waits for an Habeas Corpus to delay the Suit for three Tearms, and that he may not be suspected as idle or little employed, he is never to be seen without his Hands full of business, that is, of paper: to illustrate what I have said, I must not omit the insertion of this Example. B was Arrested at the suit of A, B advised with an Attorney what to do, not having Bail, he [Page] replied, Give me my Fee, and I'le appear for you, and save you the trouble of Bail: The Tearm following, a Declaration is Filed against the Defendant, who thereupon consults his Attorney, and he cries nothing, but Give me my Fee, and I'le defend it; He delays the Suit till next Tearm, at which time he must plead, and then calls on his Client for money to that end and purpose, besides his own Fee afresh; the Assize coming on, the Cause proceeds to Aniall; then cries the Attorney again, Give me my Fees for Counsel and charge of the Court, and I'le defend it; At the Trial, a Verdict passeth for the Plaintiff. Oh! What must be done now, cries the Defendant? Then says the Attorney, The Declaration is nought, I'le move the Court this next Tearm in Arrest of Judgment. The Motion being made, the Court confirms Judgment; And Execution thereupon is coming out; What shall we do now? cries the Defendant, We are lost, undone, quite undone: Not so yet, cries the Attorney; Give me my Fee, and I'le bring a Writ of Errour, and keep off Execution two or three Tearms. But now observe, the Error is at length argued, and Judgement affirmed thereupon for the Plaintiffe, [Page] with increase of Costs, for the Delay, no Errour being found in the Proceedings, the poor Defendant, at his Wits-ends, not knowing what to do, with a face more miserable then the first lines of an Humble Petition, asks his Attorney, What he shall do now? Hast any moneys, cries the Attorney? If so, we will get an Injunction, and bring it into Chancery. Here it may be the Cause hangs three or four Tearms; at length, no Equity being found, the Complainants Bill is dismiss'd with Cost allowed to the Defendant; hereupon the Client, willing to purchase more Advice, asks, What must be done now? the Attorney having no more delays to make advantage of, with a shrug in much haste, cries, There's no more to be said, Go pay the Knave his money, he's a Rascal, and I'm satisfied. Thus Hudibras in Rhime Burlesque.

So Lawyers, lest the Bear Defendant,

And Plaintiff Dog should make an end on't,

Do stave and tail with Writs of Errour,

Reverse of Judgements, and Demurrer,

To let'em breath a while, and then

Hoop-and so set 'em on again.

But to proceed, I say his face seems as intricate as the most winding Cause, and talks [Page] of nothing but Statutes, Presidents, Reports' and the Lord knows what, as if the first time he had mooted, was when he was in Hanging Sleeves, and that from that time he had fed on nothing but what a Judge had Cook'd for his learned Stomach, whereas he had no other Porridge-pot but his Ink-horne, which could not boyle him sustenance, but for the fewel of his deluded Clients. All his actions, words, and gestures are very stiff, and affectedly constrained, his conversation is obstinate, and full of Contradiction, and contrary to the pliable Complaisant wheedle, grows rich by strise and wrangling. What a man of worship is he, when living in a Country Village. all fear him, but few love him, the dread of him so aws some spirits, that they are at a treble charge to fence their own grounds, lest leaveing open any gap, it should give him an inlet to take possession of their Land, whilest others wear out more shooes and hob nails by scraping at him, in one Twelve-month, then would conveniently serve them in their necessary labours for seven years; the business he creates to set himself on work, will not give him leave to think of his Conscience; and when the Tearm is ended, and the time of his life is expiring, he minds not Doomsday, hoping still, according to his wonted [Page] course, he hath a trick to reverse Judgement.

I would say more of these Practicers of the Law, but that their ways are past finding out, as to what is already spoken. I would be willingly understood aright, I do not any ways reflect or throw disgrace upon the glorious Profession of the Law, which hath in all Ages raised so many eminent Persons to the first Honours of the Realm, and have left their Posterities engrafted in the Nobility, but on such whose matchless impudence and ignorance, yet Knavery, have by their specious pretences, and indirect illegal courses, ruin'd by insinuation, onely for self-ends or 'malice, thousands of Families. It is now time to make Hue and Cry after a worser sort of Vermin, and a Caterpillar that is far more dangerous, a meer Blood-hound, Cannibal, or Man-eater, who not content to feed on humane flesh, till he; hath made Dice of his bones, but will swallow an estate at a Morsel; one who when he hath put a man upon the Rack, and hath tormented him even to death, will then deliver him to the Lawyer for Exeeution.

Some call him modestly Sollicitor, a name not inglorious, and did his actions merit that appellation, I should not grudge it him, it being [Page] an employ (Honestly managed) that deserves reputation in the World. And is so absolutely necessary, that I know not what the middle, nay most sort of people unskilful in the Law can doe without it: It is not he that is the subject of my present discourse, but the Splitter, a pittiful Pettifogging fellow, it may be one that can neither Write, nor Read, or one, who living unbeloved, and selling Ale, not knowing how to Wheedle custome to his house, but by Splitting of causes, gives out how knowing he is in the Law, and lest his own word should not pass (as I wonder how it should) he is never without his Bribed Avouchers, both at home and abroad to Justify his Honesty, as well as Excellency of parts, though the meerest Ignoramus in the Universe, and no matter so he get but money, for which like, the Golden Calf, he is worshiped, or Sir Revrenced by the Vulgar.

If the Splitters Law-knowledge brooded and hatched in one Gaol, and receiv'd its increment from many more, he proves a Cockatrice, and kills, or maims in fallibly at first sight; He knows all the Windings and turns of a Prison, and by pretending liberty to others, by the Machines of his own mischievous brain, at last procures his own, and being out speaks of nothing but fire [Page] and sword against his quondam- Keepers for pretended abuses, and having his legs at liberty he will not let a cause of note escape him; from Court-proceedings he gleans somthing to advise others about, he hardly knows what, yet tells them his judgment in that particular is infallible, and so deludes his Hearers, not on a sudden, but by degrees, that he may not lessen his expected benefit.

Should I characterize him to the full, I must anatomize the Devil, but since it is impossible, I shall only enumerate some of those cheats he frequently Commits.

Frequenting the Courts (as Ravens do Carrion) and getting into the acquaintance of Attorneys, or their servants, he by them informs himself who are sued to an Outlawry, either for Debt in the Court of Common-Pleas, and somtimes for other Causes of Action, or in the Crown-Office, for Contempts, &c. having learned their names, under pretence of belonging to either Court, he writes a Note to this effect; Sir, I am an Attorney or Sollicitor belonging to a Court, wherein you are sued unknown, and will be Outlaw'd, if you please to content the Bearer, and gratifie Prae nonitus for this civility, I will for a small matter bring you off, &c. venienti occurrite morbo; The Party hereupon mistaking this Knave, and by [Page] this Action thinking him a very honest man, not only gratifies him for the present, but also employs him for the future, so long, till by woful experience he finds his former kindness was but a Decoy to ensnare him by it.

Knavery is so implanted in his Nature, that he cannot forbear cheating the dearest friend that entrusts him, and circumventing every one he deals with, that hath more honesty then himself, betraying them sor any small advantage that may accrew thereby. He frequently takes money on both sides, and will advise the Defendant against his Plaintiff-Client; In short, his Roguery and crafty Projects are so many, that they will swell into a large Folio, were but the tith of them described, wherefore I shall only add some few that were lately practised by a pretended Sollicitor, a fellow I might name, but that the Pillory first, and then the Gallows next have made him known to all.

At the first he was a Scriveners Clerk, and having learned to engross an Indenture, he began to peep into his Masters Actions, and so emproved his Knavery by those Presidents, that in a little time he excell'd him in all villany imaginable. A little before the last dreadful Gontagion, he took a Shop, or [Page] an Office of Deceipt, in which he acted a thousand Rogueries, by forging Leases, Bonds, &c. and the better to effect his designes, he had variety of knights of the Post at his command; but who the Devil dub'd these clip'd forlorn dregs of Mortality by the name of knights, and for what cause I know not; fellows that will swear any thing: however they came by the title it matters not much, but certainly Proteus was their father, which I Conjecture from the several Longlane Shapes, and dresses they appear in, for sometimes they are in a Canoni cal Garb, sometimes they seem as Countrey Gentlemen, at other times like Doctors, Sober Citizens, or Serving men, as the thing to be sworn to Requires: Heaven certainly can never entertain them, since Perjury is the only crime punishable among the Gods; one very well observes that they are an apparent argument for the Excellency of man, above Angels, Corruptio optima est pessima, therefore are men so much the more excellent than Angels, by how much they the more Currup ion of man-kind are worse than Devils. Mistaking the true meaning, and intention of that pleasant Philosopher Epicurus, they place their chief, nay, only happiness in this world, and think they live well, when they eat and drink well, and never think themselves in the Road to Heaven, but when their heads [Page] ride post on a pottle of Canary.

Ram-Ally, and the walks they as constantly Visit, as the Rooks do the Trees, and are seldom absent, but at feeding time, or doing mischief, to which they are so accustomed, that they dream of nothing else, and to still Conscience (if they have any) force themselves to believe the mortality of the Soul, otherwise they would never sell their Salvation so cheap, half a crown a time, come as often as you please. This Generation of Vipers were of great use to this Scrivener, Pettisogger or what other name you will call him by (for you cannot call him bad enough) and when he came with these pernicious Finishing Tools, to compleat a Title, there was no resistance, the case being mace so plain. Then might a man see, without the help of Necromancy, or Black Art, the strange motions of Terra Firma, out of one family into another. Mountains without the help of faith removed out of one mans possession, into the possession of another. Should a man be so wicked as to aime at the life of a man, and acquaint them with the designe, they will out-do a revengful Italian in his subtle Poysons, doing his work so Gently, and so legally, that he shall get repute by the Prosecution. They will swear that such a one being asleep, they saw his soul go out of his mouth, booted and Spurd, take horse, ride [Page] to such a place, do such a Murther, Commit such a Felony, or act such and such Treasons; now because, as one saith, it is so hard a matter to punish a false oath, without discouraging a true one; such as padd on the Road, though the Robbery be not twenty shillings shall be hanged, and these Villains (sons of Belial) that strike at the root of life, estate and fortune, shall only be Pilloried, or lose their ears, which they value no more then the sensless earth in parting with a pair of Mushroms; insignificant pieces of flesh, which they hold, made in opposition to the great Maxime in Philosophy, that Nature does nothing in vain, as being of no use in the body of man.

This Rascal was seldom without a Guard of those Fanizaries at his heels, especially in Tearm-time, who Pimp so cordially for the Devil, as if they thought him to be Disposer of all Inheritances, as Lord of the World. They have made a Feoffment of their souls, with livery and seisin to Satan, only taking a short Lease back again, and therefore are resolved to make all people they have to deal with turn Tenants to their Landlord: And if a Councellor or Attorney chance to take their Fee, What Villanies must he not conceal? what Treacheries? what Forgeries is [Page] he not bound to be privy to? what Defences must he not make of injustice and wrong? what the worst of actions must he not strive to palliate and daub over with the Fucus of forced Eloquence, quite contrary to the dictates of either Reason or Conscience? Those that have Calculated their Nativity, banish them from the society of men, as the most dangerous and treacherous persons in the world, and wander, finding it so threatned, by the stars, that no more of them are hang'd, there being no crime in the world that more deserves it.

When he went to Drink with any single Gentleman, who came to him about some concern, he still ordered it so, that two of his knights should come and inquire for him, where he was, and having taken good notice of the Gentleman, Drink a glass. And pretending business, be gone again, the same day the Scrivener draws a Bond, making the Person become obliged to him in so much, he not knowing of it, and these two Rogues set their hands unto it. Most commonly he made the party Drunk before he did it. And when the (Bond came dueSued and Recovered) by such like practices he became so Notorious, that none would come near his Shop, so that he was forced to shut up, and thereupon turnd [Page] Sollicitor, as he cald himself, and then had more an Oar in every mans Boat then before; but the Sickness encreasing he could do little, however he was not idle, for every day he took his Rounds, visiting his friends and acquaintance, for the sick he made their Wills, and in them put in his own, never failing to go a snack with the surviving Relations; besides, such was the Mortality, that every day not only help'd him to a Last Will and Testament, but the opportunity of helping others to Husbands and Wives, for which somtimes he received a considerable gratuity; where they all died out of the house he made himself sole Executor, and swept away all; nay, I have been informed that the Rogue frequently fed the Nurses where any thing was to be had, to hasten the Diseased in their Journey to Eternity.

Such was his success in all these villainous Enterprises, that he grew very rich, and being single, made an addition to his fortune, by marrying a young Gentlewoman with a considerable sum left her by her Parents, who all died of the Pestilence; in three weeks time he buried her, and was married again to a rich Widow that day seven night; In short, and in truth, he buried five Wives in nine weeks: This may seem strange, but [Page] upon enquiry you will find at that time, that several, in three months, were married twice or thrice, by which means such Ministers who stayed in London, and durst look Death in the face, got as much by Marriages as others did by Burials.

The heat of the Contagion being much abated, he took a larger uncontrouled freedom to range abroad, seeking (like the Devil) whom he might devour; and as the Devil would have it, a Widow (well stricken in years) fell into his clutches, a Gentlewoman who had lived creditably in the World, but falling to decay, took a house in a convenient place, and had no other dependance than upon Lodgers; and that she might be capacitated for the reception of the better sort, she furnished her house in a very splendid manner, supplying her want of money by credit; but her Lodgers, though sure, yet being slow Pay-Masters, her Creditors severely dun'd her for money, and fearing an Arrest, advised with this Knavish Sollicitor, who knowing what debts she had abroad, and how well stockt she was at home, promised to procure her fifty pounds, or an hundred on good security; but she telling him she knew not how to do it, he whispers her in the ear, pretending much kindness, [Page] and in short, assures her it was not convenient to trouble her friends in this business, and that she need not, so she would sign a Warrant of Attorney to be friend the Lender, and give him Procuration-money, which was more then the use came to, however she consented, and meeting the next day in order to sealing, there was but fifty pound in money produced, the other fifty was in commodities, as braided stuffs, silks, and fashion-ribbons, &c. prized higher then they were sold for at first, however seeing she could not have the money without them, being pincht at that time for money, and over-perswaded by her treacherous friend, she confess'd Judgment with a Defeazance, for six months, as she thought, whereas it was unlimited; the Sollicitor had for his pains twelve-pence in the pound presently for the whole hundred, though half goods, and the Villain, his Accomplice, in a short time after seized on all she had, to her utter ruine, for that slender sum, for which, if for nothing else, Old Nick may pick his bones hereafter:

This was another thing he frequently practiced, if any of his acquaintance dyed, or others he could hear of, whose Relations durst not Administer on his Estate, but leave all to the Creditors, then would he be sure [Page] to make himself a principal Creditor by a forged Bond, or otherwise, and thereupon sue out Letters of Administration, and sweeping all away wipe the Nose of those to whom the Deceased was really indebted. One time above the rest he cheated his greatest Confident and best friend he then had living, after this manner. A Gentleman bought some houses in the City, and being uninhabited, empowered the Splitter to let them by Lease and Fine, he being not able to do it himself for some time, by reason of some extraordinary business which called him away into the Countrey, and would detain him thereabout a month or two; This faithless Trustee, as soon as the Gentleman was gone, pretended the houses were his own, and by his plausible carriage smooth wheedling tongue, and other knacks of designed Roguery, he so far insinuated into the belief of a well-meaning Shop-keeper, that he perswaded him to take a Lease from him of one of the biggest houses, paying him an hundred pound Fine, the Rent being but small, and had been a real good penniworth, had the Title been good; Having succeeded so well in his first Enterprize, he made all the haste he could to put off the rest, not mattering the Rent, so that he could advance the Fine, and so brought about his [Page] business, that just as he had let all the houses with Fines in his own name, the right owner of them Returned. By his Spies he had intelligence thereof, and therefore in time absconds himself. The Gentleman not finding his Trustee, went to the Tenants and demanded by what power and Authority they inhabited those dwellings. They readily satisfyed him by shewing their Leases, and telling him what Fines they had payd. The right Landlord by this means saw that his Friendship was not only abused, but that they were also knavishly cheated of their moneys, and to be short, told them the whole Truth of every thing, which they not believing, he was forced to eject them all. Leaving them to the law, to require satisfaction of their Impostor Landlord. If any should have chanced to nap him; he would have served them as hundreds before, never left them till ruine had fallen on them, for by Fob-Actions, Indictments, Informations, Swearing, Forswearing, and the like, he so impoverish'd them, that as they were reduced thereby to a condition incapable of helping themselves, so it lay not in the power of their pocket to prejudice or hurt him much, and so force from them a Confession, that they had better to [Page] have sate down with their first loss, than to struggle for their amends. And had they known what a Conscience he had that scrupled nothing for advantage. with Instruments that never stumbled at an Oath, it had been the best course they could have taken.

Getting the better still of those that contended with him, got him the general reputation of a very shrewd knowing man, so that if any intricate Controversie, Reference or Law-suit arose among his neighbours, he was the only person pitcht on to arbitrate the difference, and was well paid for his pains, having purse and paunch so cram'd, they must disgorge.

That his cloathes might speak him a man of worth, as well as his lying, flattering and deceitful tongue, he garb'd himself very splendidly, and when he walk'd abroad to perpetrate some notorious piece of Roguery, he had always two of his perjur'd Rascals with him following him as his Attendants. One day as he past by a lovely Seat, newly built in the Suburbs, a sudden stratagem came into his head, and his fancy strongly perswaded him, that he might with ease make himself Master thereof: Having consulted a while with his hellish Cabal [Page] and laid down his Plot (at which he was always nimble) he caused one of his pretended servants to go and knock at the Gate, and know whether the Gentleman the Master of the House was within; it was done accordingly, and the Master hapning to be at home, came out himself to know who it was would speak with him; This impudent Splitter here upon advanced, and passing a Complement or two, told him his business, that it was only to see the inside of that house, whose outward parts appeared so lovely to his eye; the Gentleman mistrusting not so good a garb, kindly invited him in, and having shewed him what he could, civilly treated him; In fine, this gawdy Splitter desired one favour more, and that was, to have leave to take a Model or Draught of the house, for no other reason, then that being about to build a house, he was so well pleased with that Structure, that he much desired to have one built as like it as he could; the Request being granted they parted; but not many days before he came again with a House-Carpenter, whom he had pre-informed that he was about buying of an house in such a place, and that he would have his judgment in it, enjoyning him silence, lest talking should be the loss of a bargain. Arriving at the place they are entertain'd civilly as before, and [Page] he like a Person of Quality. The Carpenter in Paper took the Dimensions of the house exactly, with its buttings and boundings, and having been well satisfied for his pains was dismist. This Cheat coming to London, drew a Leaf by that Paper as from this Gentleman, with a considerable Fine mentioned therin, to have bin at delivery, but the Rent not worth a naming; & to make good the bargain, those two Rogues his pretended Servants were Witnesses therunto: shortly after he demanded possession, but the Gentleman thereupon thinking him in a frolick laugh'd hearrilv; but this demand proved in the end not the subject of a Comedy, for he was immediately sued, and at Trial his two Witnesses, with what the Carpenter could say in that behalf, cast the poor Gentleman, who hearing what a very Rogue this Sollicitor was, first Arrested Judgement, and afterwards by Friends persuasions and by threats brought him to a Composition. Examples of this kind, I verily believe, I could nominate five hundred, besides what already I have discovered in the First Part of the English Rogae or Witty Extravigant; these already recited are sufficient to manifest what a deal of mischief the worser sort of Sollicitors or Splitters do in City and Countrey; and therefore I think it was wisely done of James of Arragon, who banished [Page] Semeng Rada a great Pettifogger, for being famous only for cunning querks and quillets in the Law; but better did Galeatius of Milan, who hanged another for his excellent Art in multiplying Law-suits; and indeed the multiplication of these fellows proves a greater Plague to this Kingdom, then Lice with other Vermin to the Egyptians.

One word to the Attorneys of Westminster and Guild-Hall, and I have done. Though in the head of this Chapter, an Attorney is mentioned, yet I mean none of you, but such as are (conscious to your selves) of some unjust proceedings therein conteined; it is the Ignorant Knavish Countrey-Attorney that I have had a fling at all this while, or some beardless Fops, who fluttering up and down Presumptuously, assume that Creditable name, that the Boys may be thought men of understanding, many whereof are only fit to make a noise at a Court of Py-Pouder, louder than the Jack-Puddings in Bartholomew-Fair, and yet are bold to tread other Courts too often, where they as frequently make Combinations against their Clients, and though not seldom they take exo [...]bitant Fees, they have a trick to let go Judgment on Default.

It cannot be expected that in this well-governed Kingdom, Law-suits should be as little in use as they were in the well-regulated Common-wealth [Page] of the Lacedemonians seldom heard, but I could wish it were so order'd here as it was by Charles the Ninth of France, who to prevent needless and numberless Suits of law, ordered that whosoever Commenced a Suit should deposite such a sum with the Judge, to receive it back again if his cause were good, or forfeit it if the same prov'd frivolous; people then would grow weary of wurrying one another; Places in the Hall and Compters would not then be sold at such dear, nay, excessive rates, nor would there be such variety of Juries, as Farriers have shooes, fitting all sizes ready at hand, according as they are bespoke: Whereas now men have not their Offices for nothing but pay soundly for them, and therefore must lick themselves whole out of poor mens necessities, certainly sale of Offices is the greatest wrong can be done in a Common-Wealth.

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CHAP. X. The Catch-Pole, or Tenter-Hook.

THIS Fellow, among those many great Judgements God inflicts on the World for the many-crying sins therein committed, is none of the least, for having crack'd, (it may be twice or thrice) he only reserves so much money as will purchase him a Commission for Napping, to make others as sensible of being in debt, as himself was formerly, and having the nature of the Devil in him, is restless, and in perpetual motion, seeking whom he may devour, and is never better pleas'd, then when he hath made a poor debtor acquainted with the Torments of that Purgatory, he himself hath layn pickled up in for many years. For which cause, the indigent and insolvent look upon him as the properest shape wherein they fancy Satan, fearing that one time or other he will meet with them, and drag them to an Hell, from whence they never shall return. Others look upon him as a Goss-Hawk on the wing, taking a circumference at a distance, [Page] seeming not to mind the wary Heron, who is using the same stratagems in winding to get alost, but all in vain; for when the bold and crafty Hawk hath got above her in his soaring, 'ware Hawk, or any other advice avails but little with him, and will pounce her, though he venture the striking himself through with the long bill of his Opponent. Thus have we known several of these Vermin violate places, that are priviledged by ancient custom, and defended by the Gallantry of the Defendants, who have made them suffer for their insolencies, sometimes too severely by death; at other times sportively, by clipping, shaving: And lastly, by throwing them into the Bog-house, to send them whom sweet-sented to their Dulcina del Tubosa's, or reaking Hecuba's.

Notwithstanding these deadly or dreadful punishments, they will confidently adventure out again, having first got some loving Cracks or others, to mundify their loathsome Carkasses, that they may not poison their Iessimy-Barbers, who otherwise instead of sweet fragrant Effences must be forced to bring a Brandy-Bottle, or some other spirits to keep them from Fainting. Whilst they are indeavouring to even the difference between their Hair and Beards on both sides. Having new cased themselves (for their imployment obliges [Page] them to have diversity of Garments by them for Disguises) and having perriwigg'd their shaved crowns, they boldly walk the streets and by-lanes again, and makes them more dangerous to some than the High-ways, for they are Moveable Prisons, and their hands two Manacles not to be filed off. They are the Remora's to young Gentlemen, and breaking Shop-keepers, when at Anchor they find they can ride it out no longer, they either cut or slip, and when under a stiff gale they think safely to sail from that dangerous Port, to some other of better Anchorage, they are stopt by the way, and can go no further till their unlucky Pilots moor them where they please, most commonly to their utter ruine. If any one of them seem to be merciful to the poor Prisoner, it is for no other end than to make his own advantage. For should he immediately stop a man in either Counter, or some other Prison, it is not for his benefit, therefore he protracts the Execution, and with much seeming willingness delays as long as money's stirring. He will respit you in no place at first but a Tavern, where he sels his Minutes dearer than a Watch-Maker, and though he venture half a drowning in Canary, or what other wine he most esteems; Yet that will not stop his mouth unless his hands be stuff't, and Pocket cram'd continually. [Page] With a leg of a Fowl in his hand, and a wing on his Trencher unroucht, he cries, Come, we cannot stay, we must be gone; whilst his eyes are greedily feeding on the Sides-men, or the Merry thought, wishing every bit may choak others that goes not down his gormandizing Gullet: no more Angels appearing, and fearing his over-drinking may disinable him from securing his prisoner, he instantly removes him to his own house, or the suburbs of a Gaol, where he visits him twice a day, but the poor man having no more money to gratifie his forbearance, and the large Fees of the house two shillings a night, &c. a Prison then must be his Mansion, and being a Freeman hath the benefic of a Duce, which some call an Horse, and thence he rides to Ludgate, where he may chance to lie some years in the sweat of his Keepers Toes.

A Suburbian-Trader's credit is no sooner flyblown, but the Magot-Bailiffs are rooting in his Tail immediately; Money is the only way to blind them so they shall not see you, which you must either send or give them, and then though they have a Writ in their Pockets, and the person walks just under their Noses, yet they cannot see him for their lives, which Astrologers say, proceed from a wonderful Conjunction of Sol and Luna in Palm of the right hand; I have heard of an Officer that was stoneblinde to a friend of mine, and that [Page] for a long time, (yet had the eye of a Linx to all others) but at length it was discovered to the Creditor, that, they used somtimes to fuddle together, whereupon he blamed much the Officer, calling him Knave, Cheat, and what not, in taking his money, and not performing his Office; the other denied it, and though the other urged it was so, he could get no other Reply, then the World's a Cheat, and he is a Fool that has not a hand in it.

If a Person abscond himself for debt, he shall be taught to know his own worth in a very little time; for a Serjeant or a Bailiff shall dig him out of the Earth with as much diligence, as if he were the Oar of Mexico, and never ceases till he has hid again in some obscure place or other, never to be found out, but by chance, like a Pot of old Roman Coin, but he shall not be half so much hug'd by the Finder, for fear of being lousie, or infected by the Running Plague-sore of Poverty.

A man in this condition may be said to be totally Eclips'd. For as the Sun is Eclips'd by the Interposition of the Moon between it, and the Earth; so man is Eclips'd by an Interposition of a Stone-Dublet between him and the Street; but he is but half Eclips'd, when first arrested and carried to the Coach and Horses, Hen and Chickens, or Rose and Crown (to the unspeakable [Page] scandall of the Law, at the expence (as I said before) of two shillings Per night for lodging only, besides the continual visits of Officers, who like Physicians will have their Fee, and seldom go away empty.

I cannot invent a name evil enough to bestow on these Tenter-Hooks; in short, they are the Sweepings and Scum of the Nation, and would men discover from daily experience what tricks they play, what Leiger-de-main they use, what Jugling there is among them, it would be as creditable to keep the Hang-man company as some of them: I shall instance some few of their abuses and stratagems they use in their Arrests, and so conclude this Chapter.

If a Gentleman they lay wait for, has laid himself up, and will not stir abroad, they have several tricks to catch him notwithstanding, Sometimes they will personate a Porter, putting on a frock with knot and Ropes about their middle, which would have becomed and fitted their Necks much better, and with a Letter in their hand directed to the Gentleman they intend to Arrest, the Gentleman not suspecting that Garb admits the seeming Porter, who having delivered the Letter, instantly draws his Mace, and being commonly one of the lustiest Rogues in the Pack, runs him to rights down stairs, and [Page] at the door is received by half a dozen Janizaries more of the same Brotherhood; sometimes they have adventured to come into Greys-Inn-Walks; and watching the Person as he came to the wall looking into the Bowling-Green that was, this Desperado instantly takes him up in his arms, and (Neck or nothing) throws himself over with his arms full, who is presently assisted by others that waited there for the finishing the Plot, and with all celerity carry him off sans reskue. Another I knew was thrown over the wall in the Temple-Garden, and the Officer leapt after him at High-water, and were both taken up into a Boat that attended this Exploit. Others I have known, who dressing themselves in every respect like an Orthodox Minister in Canonical Robes, have got admitance into a Gentlemans chamber by that means, and by arresting him for lucre of an extraordinary reward, have undone the poor Gentleman for ever. Another Gentleman, I knew, was ruin'd also by them, but after another fashion, in this manner; A Bailiff was promised he should have a considerable sum, if he would undertake the Artesting such a Gentleman; having agreed upon the sum, the first thing he did was to enquire what acquaintancehe had thereabout, and being inform'd thereof, he watcht such as went to visit him, [Page] (for his debts being great he durst not stir out, and was besides very wary lest he should be surprized) among the rest he observed one to go often to him, having a lustie fellow to wait on him, and much about his stature; hereupon he cloath'd himself in every respect like him, and knocking at the door, he was askt what he came for, who replied, that he was servant to such a Gentleman, naming him, and that he came from his Master to him about business: that very Gentleman hapned to be in the chamber, and by that means judged it was a plot, who understanding that there was but one at the door, drawing their swords they opened the door, bidding him come in, who seeing them in that posture, trusted rather to his feet then his hands, and for haste knew not whether he made one or two steps to the bottom of the stairs, venturing a Neck-breaking, rather then to have his soul infallibly pusht out of his body by their Rapiers. One would have thought this should have been a fair warning to him; yet for all this he undauntedly persisted in his Resolution, and soon found out a way to effect his design in this manner; He had strictly observed, from a house almost opposite to this Gentlemans Chamber, that [Page] a dish of meat was frequently sent thither about dinner time: a little before that time he got a dish Prepared. And putting on a white Wastecoat, Cap, and Apron, went in that posture to the Gentleman, whose ill luck was such, that he looking out of his Window, and seeing this meat coming towards him, perswaded by the rash eagerness of his Stomach, he had got the door open ere the fellow was half up the stairs, and Mistrusting nothing, gave him entrance, who setting down the Dish, first seized the Gentlemans sword that lay neglected on the Table, and then secured his Prisoner.

Of all the cunning tricks they use to captivate poor Debtors, I was never pleased with any more than this which Followeth. Because the contriver was by heaven justly punished for his treachery. In short 'tis thus, a Gentleman, owing much money, kept within doors a long time, by reason of which he much coveted the Air, but daring not to stir abroad, he was content to take the benefit of it as he could, and that was early in the morning at his Window. The Bayliffs laid several plots to take him, but to no Effect, at length a Smith, that lived opposite to this Gentlemans Chamber, and knowing the design of these Rascals, agreed with them for so much to betray him into their hands, and informed them after [Page] what manner it should be done. They approved of it, and the next morning was the time appointed, accordingly these varlets planted themselves in Ambuscado, whilst the Smith very early gets upon the Grind-stone, which stood under his shed, and fastning a rope to a small Beam, put the nooze over his Neck, and having so done, fell to his prayers, the Gentleman (according to his Custome) looking out, and seeing an object of desperation before his eyes ready to dispatch himself, in pure pitty (which overcame all thoughts of danger) ran with all speed he could, to prevent this wretched fellow from being his own Executioner; But all would not do, neither his own aversion, nor the others opposition, since heaven had decreed him an example of divine Vengeance, for injustice; for the Bayliffs, seizing the Gentleman, carried him away with all the speed imaginable. And the Smith turning his head about to see which way they went, the Grindstone turned, and slipping off, was hanged unregarded by the Bayliffs. And unpittied for his labour.

All their politicall plots, and projects are so many (new ones dayly taking place) that it will be irrequisit to discourse them further. Wherefore to conclude I shall only touch upon some few of their many thousand Wheedles, and [Page] leave the Reader to his woful Experience for the rest.

Having Arrested a man (as they agreed before) one must be the Lyon, the other the Lamb; When one is Rampant, the other is Couchant; And here note, that they are never both either passionate, or mighty furious, but when they are like to be Beaten. The next thing they do, is subtilly to sift out of the Prisoner, whether he was ever Arrested before, if not, they know the better how to work upon his ignorance; if they find the Person arrested hath been an old Truth-Breaker, and that he is much indebted, though they have but one Action against him, they will perswade him that they have ten; however if he will presently put in Bail, (lest his other Creditors should come upon him) and satisfie them well for their pains, they will be very civil, and what they take of you they will not receive as their due Fees, lest they should be pincht (as some of late have been) for Extortion, wherefore they cry, Give it us freely, or not at all.

Under pretence of being a mans sincere friend, they will advise, and by subtil ways they have squeezed out of him what his debts are, and to whom they are due, perswading him that they have the Art of Composing all such differences, having got out of him who [Page] they are, to whom he is obliged; in the first place, one of them assures him how sorry he is for him, and had he known so much as now he does he should never have bin Arrested for them, however he will go and see what may be done with the Creditor that hath entred the present Action, whilst he goes to no other intent then to advise some other Creditor to enter an Action; for this (as far as he sees) is his time or never; and having perswaded him to it, keeps this as a reserve to lay upon him when he hath bail'd the other; and if he be strengthned with four or five more, he thinks it so much the better, which he will execute in order; at last, having suckt out the very hearts-blood of his Pocket, the Compter or Ludgate must be his Ultimum Refugium.

All men who stand in fear of an Arrest, (if they know it) must be their slaves, for they will pretend when they meet them, that they have a Commission to give them a Cast of their Office, to no other end then that they should cast them half a Crown, or a good Breakfast in their way.

Their Civility (for self-interest) is no small advantage to them, sending to a [Page] Person (against whom an Action is entered) either to keep out of the way, or put in Bail, if the Creditor be not by, it is usuall for them to be blinded with a flaming Angel, and then tell the Creditor he is a man very difficult to be found. At length he is forced to Napp him, (after the Cat hath plaid a long time with the Mouse) and swallows his pretended friend, with as little difficulty as a Whale may do a Gudgeon.

CHAP. XI. The Miseries in, and Wheedles of a Prison:

AS there are many Prisons in and about the City, so their Nature and Customs are different, yet the Wbeedles that are practised therein, are much alike, so many and so various, that the Description of them all would take up so much room, as that I should have but little left to prosecute some other subjects, I must necessarily touch upon.

In short, a Prison is the Bankrupts Banqueting-house, where he feeds on Dishes borrowed from other Mens Tables; or it may be called, The Prodigals Purgatory, or, A Pesthouse for decayed [Page] Citizens, wherein is contained as many maladies and mischiefs as flew out of Pandora's Box, when opened by Epimetheus. It is the Grave of the living, or a place where men are buried alive, and the Wormes that gnaw upon them are their own discontented thoughts, and the racking of the Master-Keeper, and that which aggravates their miserie is the frequent curbs of under-Officers; yet herein lies some little comfort, that their Creditort dare as well be damned as come there to rail at them for non-solvency, or upbraid them with Knavery; for Custom hath empowered them to inflict within their own Territories punishment on such Billingsgate-Offenders.

At my first being acquainted with the place, the Prisoners (methought) walking up and down the Watch-Hall lookt like so many Wracks upon the Sea; Here the ribs of a thousand pounds beating against the Needles, those dangerous rocks, Credulity; here floated to and fro Silks, Stuffs, Camolets, Velvet, Cloth of Gold, Cloth of Silver, &c. without giving place to each other according to their dignity, and after them swims the Owner, making to shore on his Yard, mistaking it for the Main-Yard-Arm of the Foundred Vessel, and after him drives another swimming on his [Page] Shop books, which bear him up like Bladders for the present; here floated so many Pipes of Canary, belonging to a Vintner or Cooper, whose Bung-holes lying open, were so damaged, that the Merchant may go hoop for his mony; look upon it in general, and it is a spectacle of more pity then Tyburn-Executions.

How welcom is a new Commer amongst them; every one strives who shall get him into his chamber, if there be a vacancy, not so much for friendships sake, as Garnish: one will tell him that he hath an excellent room, wherein there is lodg'd but four; Another tells him, that his room is better, for though it be VVinter now, and may seem to be too bleak and cold, yet it will be the best room in the whole house in Summer-time, being near the Leads; and this benefit he hath too, that he cannot take the benefit of the Air thereon, but that he must of necessity see those places, by taking the Air too often, which club'd to his undoing; ten to one this Proposal puts the new-come Prisoner into a passion, thinking himself abused to be thought he should be confined so long; but by his good leave, I can assure him, I knew a Citizen booted and spur'd taken as he was going out of town, and brought in thither, who swore he would not have his boots pull'd off till he was at liberty, so confident [Page] he was of his speedy enlargement, yet contrary to expectation he remained a Prisoner sixteen years and upwards.

A Prison is an Exchange for all sorts of Trades, but without Commodities, unless what are female, and they are for the most part braided, and out of fashion, being the Reliques of some Defunct; Now and then some Cracking Sempstress, or Free Trader, for taking up too much linnen, and over-trading with Holland-Factors, have the ill hap to be Confined within this stony Band-box; how will the Baggages then pule, and whine, and putting finger in eye, and cry, He might have been more kind, if all were rightly understood, and not call me his back friend—Suppose I was, there was no harm done him by it. Well, well it was a most un-Gentleman like part of him, to un do a young Woman in both senses. The report of her Confinement brings a great concourse of men, whoever took any of her Linnen upon trust, and by way of gratitude, pay her ransome; if no such assistance happen to her, she then sends some Female VVheedle of her Function, with a Letter to her Creditor, all blubberd with tears, desiring to speak with him, who over-perswaded, goes, and at sight of her, his heart melts faster then her eyes, [Page] or any other part, and not being able to refrain, seals her Release with flesh in stead of wax. Hence we may infer this, that they that deny Prisons to be Bawdy-houses are very much mistaken, and may as well gainsay, that Mother Nabbs who liv'd in the Park, never stood in the Pillory, that Venus was translated to the sky for being a Nun, and not for being a Whore; as that Salisbury-Court, Shoo-lane, and places adjoyning, are not the most General Rendezvouz for fashionable Bona Roba's of the better sort.

And now by the way, give me leave to express what I finde commendable in a Prison, and let any one judge, whether this be not a very great commendation belonging to it, in that it renders Matrimony most savoury, where the pleasures thereof are most stoln; but it most extreamly commends their Charity one to another, for lending their chambers to their Fellow-Prisoners; Others, that are for the more the more noble way of Pimping defend themselves by the example of Heliogabulus, who was wont to lend his Baths and Wenches to his friends and acquaintance whenever they desired it. If a man would throughly inspect the house, he will find little Mortification among the confined, they being generally of Aristetle's opinion, that Whores are not [Page] only useful, but necessary in a well-instituted Common-wealth, such is the Fleet and Ludgate, whose inhabitants cry, Corporeal Recreations mitigate Corporeal punishments; and as one very well observes, that it was never recorded among them, that any one that was ever put in ever pray'd himself out. The loosness of the Company corrupts the good intentions of most men. Thus Prisons are like a Lough in Ireland, called Lough-neaugh, whose Waters (in some time) turn the tenderer substance of wood into stone, and from a piece of Holly is produced an excellent stone; so when a man is confined within the grates of a Gaol, his heart becomes petrefied, to that excess, that neither the soft words of a flattering Creditor, nor the most sharp and piercing execrations of a passionate one can make the least impression therein.

I have told you what is commendable; I must now give you a short account of what is discommendable in those Pinks and Common Sewers, into which all the Malice, Envy, Rancour and Hatred of inveterate Persons, spend it self. Where the Tenter-Hooks of Oppression always stand in publick view, or sit there at Receit of injury, and mourn at the Tranquillity and peace of Neighbors; cruel Giants of these Inchanted Castles, not suffering a poor Debtor [Page] pass by them, but one steps out and cries, Fee, fa, fumm, I smell the blood of one in debt, and I must needs have summ.

Within these strong Holds there are a sort of people, who were men once, but coming into Office, are on a sudden changed into Tygers, Wolves and Man-eaters; strange Monsters that will eat a couple of poor men at a Meal, who are more cruel then Diomed who fed his horses with humane flesh: they are more inhumane, more merciless then the great Robbers, Sciron or Pytiolanthes; more terrible then the Lerenean Monster: should they be broiled, roasted, gridled, toasted, singed, baked, ten thousand years in Purgatory, they would be as black and sooty as when first put in. They strut it in fine Clothes, and are fat with feasting on the forbidden fruits of Extortion, and selling unlawful liberty at unlawful rates; yet, what will not a Prisoner do that has it? what will he not expend to conjure down, and appease the evil Demon, that so torments and haunts him, worse then the trembling cold and hot Fits of a Quartane Ague? How dreadfully does he appear with his thick Battoon, when he says, Master—- (meaning the Master-Keeper) must speak with you; which is one and the same thing, as if he should have [Page] said, I have order to lock you up; what fumbling then in the Pocket to stop one gaping mouth of Cerberus, with a Glass of Wine to boot, and a hundred Promises at the end of it, that such a time he will clear all his Chamber-rent, with a thousand thanks for that liberty, which is like to be beneficial to him; for, if the Prisoner be Poetically inclined, he then says, That the noise of a Prison was very distracting and injurious to his Fancy; that since he hath been abroad, his Invention hath wrought Miracles; that he hath a Copy (almost finished) which a Bookseller offred so much for it, with Priviledge to dedicate it to my Lord——who hath seen it, applauds it, and doubts not but to receive, not only a considerable reward from him, but much more, by threescore several Dedications he intends of the same Book to others, and none under Knight or Lady. Whereas all this while (it may be) poor man, he hath been studying de die in diem, how to eat and drink in abundance, that should he be taken up, he may be stored with flesh to withstand a three weeks siege against the Poverty of a Prison, and that he might drown in Oblivion, the Miseries that he hath already run through, and the thoughts of what he may run into [Page] for the future, he was not so idly employed to write in laudem Pulicis, or, Encomium strepitus, but he was translating that learned and elaborate Piece of that deep and profound Author Obsopoeus, who writ a Treatise in Latin verse, de Arte bibendi, which Art he reduced into practice, and taught it (in his Peripateticks) to his young disciples.

If a Shop-keeper (that is a Milch-Cow) be sent for, and he be driven lowing to his Stall, if they halt by the way, as 'tis ten to one but they do for the benefit of baiting, then out comes the Almanack, wherein is registred some of his best debts, which were cancel'd in his Debt books, that they might not be known to Wife or Creditor, and then tells him, That he was with such and such, that such a Person a very honest Gentleman promised him such a day, to pay him so much. That he had received a little from him to day; that there was so much for his Pains, and desires, that with his thanks and humble service he will present so much to his Master,—where note, if this charge be not constantly paid he is inexorable to all Prayers, and entreaties. We read, that the Faylor in the Acts, fell down at the feet of his two Prisoners, when he saw such a terrible Habeas Corpus come from Heaven to remove them. But it is to be feared, had those Prisoners been here now, the Earth might [Page] have shook as well as the Prison, ere it could have shaken some Prison-Petty-Tyrants in the Kingdom.

In the next place, let us consider the evils that proceed from the Master Keepers, letting his Cellar at a rack Rent, which indeed must inevitably follow from his paying so dear for the Custody of his Den.

The Cellar-man, or Tapster, which you will, is (whilst money is stirring Plentifully) Extraordinary kind at home, and that you may pay for it abroad. If you have a desire to take the Air, he will proffer sometimes the kindness to be your Keeper, and you need not fear he will tire you with walking. For he shall only carry you to the next Crony-Tavern of his acquaintance. And then if you are not drunk for joy, that you are abroad, and spew to gratify his courtefie, you understand not what it is to have a Prison-Tapster to your friend. As your money shortens he slackens his favours; at length he cannot hear you when you call for Beer and Tobaccho, yet in hope to be paid one time or other; and partly out of the lechery they have in couzening and cheating, with short measures and confounded Mundungus, is at length perswaded to let his dear Euridices, his Beer and his Brandy, take a little Air out of his infernal Regions; but the hot Strumpet [Page] leaves such violent Claps behind her, in the Pockets of the poor Prisoners, that no Aqua Fortis eats so violently into a Fob, as she doth. Only the Cellar-man has one Recipe, to stop the violence of the Gonorrhea, by crying in a tone like a Bear, I'le trust no more; and so he might say as often and as currishly as he pleased, might the doors stand open, and men might have the liberty of coming in, or out, as they pleased. For in such places there is the worst, least, and dearest of all things, whereas the poor Prisoners ought to have the most, best, and cheapest. However, this brings in a great annuity to the Master-Keeper. Though this is none of the least of his benefits, yet he hath a great many more than I can tell you, proceeding from his Iron-Barr'd Limbeck, and in his Chymistry acts contrary to Nature, while he makes it his business all his life to extract something out of nothing, and by reducing men to nothing, out of the Caput Mortuum, of their perished Estates, makes himself something. However there lyes a Curse upon him, for as it is observed, from the highest to the lowest, that never any one of them dyed worth a groat, their reign feldom exceeds the length of a Popes, being Poisoned quickly (in five or six years) by excessive drinking, Lim'd Sack, stum'd Glaret, and high Feeding.

[Page] Now should there prove a Conspiracy between the Sheep and Goose, (who out of pure revenge on them who devoured their dead Carcasses, are resolved to devour them whilst living, by aiding and assisting their enemies with implements to draw up a formidable thing, called commonly an Habeas Corpus, by which their Persons are seized, and carried over the Gulph Thamesis, and then incarcerated in the Kings Bench) it is a thing worth the noting, that the filliest of Creatures should be too hard for most cunning Foxes; nay, by a Sheep-skin conveyed violently into the Hesperian Gardens of Southwark, where though there are no Golden Apple-Trees growing, yet they shall find many Lions waking for their security. Some say, the Prisoners themselves are changed into Golden Apple-trees, to whom as long as they bear fruit, the Lion is as gentle as a Red Herring, but if they wither and grow dry, they are presently cut down, and made sewel for the Common Gaol. Nay, your brace of Guardian Angels will forsake you, for want of a little chamber-rent, otherwise Polyphemus himself is civil enough, and will be content to have his own eye put out for a while, while Ulysses escapes under the belly of the Golden-Fleece.

Now under what Planets the Tip-staves and Waiters were borne, the best Figure-Flingers [Page] cannot tell; some believe Mercury, though not as he was a god, but an English Gusman. They are a sort of Vermin, that believe not only the Moon, but all Mankind to be made of green Cheese, so like Rats and Mice do they altogether live and feed upon it.

And now to the unspeakable comfort of the Creditor, let us a little look into the Counsels and Deportment of their Debtors, under Confinement.

In a full meeting or assembly this Question is Started, Whether a man ought to be compelled against his will, to pay his debts. A Sage person, much indebted, and a long time a Prisoner, and therefore more capable of being a Law-giver, was positively in the negative. And thus he proved it, If, volenti non fit injuria, no injury can be done to him that is willing, then it follows, that all injury must be done to him that is unwilling; now, what greater injury can be done to a man then to compel him to pay money against his will, whether he has it or no? Again, no man was ever compelled to lend money, what reason then is there that a man should be compelled to repay it? Otherwise, lending of money seems a kind of invention of Man to trepan his fellowcreature, to lend him money that he may afterwards make him his miserable slave and vassal, and triumph over his calamity. It was concluded on [Page] all sides, that there can be no greater mischief done to man than to captivate his body, and deprive him of his divine priviledge of freedom, he then yet intends the ruine of another, ought to have the same ruine intended to himself. Hereupon the Counsel broke up, and every one applyed himself to the usuall holy exercises there performed, as Dicig, Drinking, Drabbling &c. Venus is very powerful here, but Bacchus much more, being indeed the very Baal-Peor of this place. As for the Stars of the first Magnitude they resorted to the Leg, or Golden Lyon. The lesser bestowed their influences on Ale-Houses, Brandy-Shops, &c.

And now dear friends, you who are Creditors to these Persons, how do you think you shall be satisfied your debts, when nothing will serve your turns, but to make Dice of their Bones, a slender satisfaction, considering how dearly you pay for every Bale that is made out of them. Alas! you don't consider they live in the Land of Oblivion, not as a quartern of Brandy, but is an Antidote against Sorrow, and two quarts of Canary is perfect Lethe. In a short while they forget you, and in a long time you forget them.

Consider again, should all men pay their debts, some would have nothing left, and others would have all, there would be no Ebbing [Page] nor flowing of Fortune, should the Tide run all one way: besides, Cheating would have too great an encouragement should it always prosper, yet loss is the spur to make them run the same course over again; and I believe, these Debtors are not so unjust, but, that should it be proved, that in any Age of the World all men paid their debts, I dare engage that you should have it so again. Be not so vain, as to think that Natures course must be altered to gratifie your humours. Again, they complain of their trusting too, as well as your Worships; where lies the difference then since you are both Creditors; and were you in their condition, I question, though you now complain of their Knavery, whether you would not be as very Knaves as themselves; you rail at them, and they again at others. The Mercer cries, Was ever Man so Hocuss'd? however, I have enough to maintain me here, and cries, Hang sorrow, cast away care. The Milliner is much in the same tone, and cries, Hang it too, Give me t'other Class of Sack, 'tis well 'tis no worse. The Tailor cries, VVas ever a man so mistaken, the Gentleman seem'd as honest a man as ever piss'd; but I may thank my VVife for this, A Pox on her, she was always too willing to entertain handsom Gentlemen.

After all this, if the Creditor will have any Musick to revive his drooping spirits, let him [Page] step to the Fleet, where he shall finde some (over a Chirping Cup) sing like Canary-Birds; and 'tis ten to one after the Song is ended, but a Health shall go round to the Confusion of their Creditors; whilest others are exercising themselves in the Noble Art of Cheese-Bowling, where some shall cry, Two pieces on the single Cast, five to one cries another on the Cast, whilst another steps in and proffers to lay ten Guiny's on the Game. A pleasant Harmony in the ears of a Creditor who hath entrusted these men, who have laid up their Estates in Lavender, that they may the more freely follow their Recreation, and will not be Confined to Humours, though Humours Confined them.

Thus you see, if men can Wheedle themselves into a large credit, yet keep their Estates, what care they for a Capias or a Latitat; and 'tis but feeing often and liberally the Clerk, and it lies not in the power of a Creditor to keep them from their Recreation there, or where they please.

And now Gentlemen-debtors, a word to you, and I have done. When all your money is gone, farewel all kindness of this nature; for [Page] they will prove as obdurate as Hell, and will as soon trust their Souls with the Devil, as a Prisoner with a shilling; and therefore as little as you may, and only when necessity compels you to it, make use of their civilities, as they call them; keep money in your pockets, and lie as little out as you can upon security. You will find it but a scurvy thing to be visited once a week by the Clerk, and his two Gog-Magogs, with rugged Cudgels, and rough-hewen faces, when the end is only to milk the Cow as they call you: Endeavour to be one of Solamons sons, and keep company with none of them; if you do, blame nor the Stars, but your own folly, which became your ruine. Extremities will happen to all sorts of Persons, as well good as bad, and therefore they determine best, that best determine for their own safety.

CHAP. XII. The Wheedles, of an handsome Hostess.

OF these Hostesses there are several sorts. There is the City-Hostess, the Countrey-Town- [Page] Hostess, and the Hostess on the Road; the two first have frequenter opportunities to Wheedle by reason of the variety, multiplicity, and constancy of their Guests, yet, the last doth it as certainly, and less controulably than the former, but all three in a different manner. The City-Hostess takes more state upon her, and useth a freedom which would seem scandalous, to the other in the Countrey; for she will frequently admit of Treats abroad and, that her person may be noted at publick Meetings, Balls and Theaters, her splendid habiliments shall forcibly attract the eyes of the Spectators, causing in men an admiration, and an emulation in the women, for rather then they will want any thing of that Modish finery they observe in others. They will make their husbands pawn their Consciences, as well as their Credits, for that Point de Venice, or for another story of lace, more upon their Petty-coats; as if women thought mens fancies did not climb fast enough without such a Lecherous Love-Ladder. She never stirs out, but in her choicest ornaments, and is rarely seen within doors by her better Guests, but when she thinks her self most charmingly adorn'd. Whereas the Countrey-Hostess never studies or consults her fineries, but against some Fair, or usuall Market-days, which she indeavours to grace with her best habiliments, [Page] as much as she will do a Neighbours Christning. If her leisure will permit her to step to the Gate to shew her dressing, and thereby invite her Guests to tast of her dish (which who can refrain, seeing it so well Guarnisht) she then seems to proclaim to all, that she is a fairer Commendation of her Inn, above the fair Signe although the Painting, Tafferels, and other Curiosities cost the valew of the Estate of a rising Constable. In this posture, as she stands, she proves a Loadstone that attracts not only men of Iron, but the Black-coat, and sober Citizens; if the first (that mighty man of Buff, and Feather) come but near her, he sometimes cleaves so long, that he is not easily got off, and will not only command Accommodation for himself, and horse, less beast than himself, but sometimes too for his beastly Companions.

The man that will not eat, and drink well, is not for her diet; for the first she knows by experience, that he that cannot eat well, will never do the feat well: besides, the sober man is not for her turn, because being always guarded: by Reason, all the assaults her Wheedles makes against him are bootless ineffectual; he is her man that will be drunk, who will be a man it may be tomorrow morning, but for the present she can make him what she please; for having let go [Page] himself from the hold, and stay of Reason, she knows he lyes open to the mercy of all temptations, and suits them according to his present inclinations. No lust but finds him disarm'd, and fenceless, and with the least assault enters; if he be rich, how will she humour him, and under the pretence of pleasing him with any thing, either eatably or liquid, she franckly calls for it to oblige her own pallat, and she shall pay dearly for it to boot; and to make him believe how much she loves him, will not stirr from him but when business calls upon her: And when she returns, it shall be with such speed and cheerfulness, that if he be not quite drown'd in his liquor, with half an eye he may see the greatness of her love and kindness, and to make a demonstration thereof, the Husband, by her perswasions, and his compliance to her Wheedling-contrivances, shall go to bed, and so give them the opportunity of a private Conference; Now out-comes all his passions, vanities, and those shamefuller humours, which discretion cloaths, all which she converts to her own advantage; at length (with a thousand Protestations, she never admitted any to that freedom before, but her Husband, though a hundred preceded him) she sends him to bed, fully assured of his future, as well as present, happiness.

[Page] Of all men the young man is her Darling, whom she can best shape and fashion as she pleases, and can perswade him to any thing, for he sees but the outside of men and things, and conceives them according to their appearing glister, and out of this ignorance believes them: thus she makes all her flatteries pass for real kindnesses; and the more to endear him to her, he must call her Mother, and will not beangry with her son if he commit Incest with her; and lest the rest of her adopted children should take exceptions at it she will give all of them (who have a mind to it) the same liberty. This Obligation ties them to the house, as firmly as a Galley-slave to the Oar, and this is for a while the only Rendez-vouz of all their Revels.

The truth on't is, she need not use many Wheedles to this sort of people to effect her designes; for since their Reason seems not to curb, but only to understand their appetites; they prosecute the motions thereof with such eager earnestness, that being themselves their own temptation, they need not Satan to prompt them, if Wine and Women be in their company.

Of all her Guests there is none makes her such incomparable sport as the Fop, What dye lack, Sir? or the meer Trading-bubble of the [Page] City, when he comes into the Countrey, as ignorant as the Clown, both of them being much about the same model and pitch of brain, only the ones ignorance is a little more finical. She knows him by his garb and bawling deportment when he rides into the yard, and indeed his posture in riding onely is enough to discover him, and the better to humour his vanity, she makes as great a noise as he, in calling on her servants to give him attendance, and then waits him at the Parlor door to welcom him with her smiles & courtesies, whilst she is screwing her mouth into a round plumpness, that the warmth of her lips may signify the glowing of her other parts, and the fervency of that zeal she hath to serve him. The wine being brought (which must be a Pint of Mul'd Sack if in winter time,) Ninny drinks to Mystress Craftsby, which she kindly receives, and will not let the liquor cool in her hand by any means, but nimbly possess the cup till the pint be out: A cessation of sipping for a while being concluded on, they still proceed in the exercise of their mouths, by talking and billing: both their chief education lye in their Occupation, which indeavours to Apify the humours and manners of their best Guests, or Customers: the frequent visits of finical Gentlemen, fine Ladies and Gallants, Antartick to the City [Page] fashion (who have a mode in Speech, as well as habit, peculiar to themselves) I say, from these he draws the infection of Eloquence and Fopperies, and catching any one word, which he imagines extraordinary (although he understand not the Etymologie thereof) wears it for ever, and regards not how Thread-bare it is, by his often using it, so his habit be not in that condition. As he takes up Wares on Credit, so he does words, and in time, it may he, makes himself a Bankrupt as to both; for as he is affected with Complements, and gingling Expressions, so no man pays dearer for them, since severall debts in his Shop. Books are often payd by them. And this our subtle Hostess knows full well, and therefore fits him to a Hair, having had the same, or larger advantages of various society than himself. Having first tickled his ear with what pretty pleasant collections of wit, she hath collected from the ingenious frequenters of her house, she then indeavours to inform her self what his profession is, & knowing that, not only praises the function, but promises to buy of him what she or her friends hath occasion to make use of; and that she may make it appear, that she hath not only rich Relations, but acquaintance of good quality, she recounts the names of such and such men of known Estates and Reputation; in hopes of such good Customers he calls freely, [Page] and drinks as plentifully, and having plyed him with warm cloaths, she gives him some small Encouragements of attaining her; the temptation takes, and every kiss proves a conspiracy; at length her petulant deportment gains over him a totall conquest, yet staves him off Fruition, by holding him in expectation, and Encouraging his hopes, she makes his shop-commodities dance after hers, and her Inn or house must be his home: If in the City, he willingly drinks no where else, obliges his friends to go with him, and institutes Clubs of several Trades, not to propagate their interest in the least but his own, and raise his reputation with the Hostess: If in the Countrey, he takes the benefit of the Air very often (as he calls it) for his healths sake, and so deludes his indulgent Wife, that she may not grumble at his absence, nor suspect his intentions, which are fully bent in the prosecution of his designed pleasures; and, that he may be the more made welcome when he comes alone, he often seduceth his Neighbors to accompany him abroad, who (good natur'd men) will not deny him that civility, and, though it be often repeated, (with great expence) yet they grutch it not, finding from their Country delights so full a compensation. The instigator to these rural Rambles is better satisfied in his thoughts, having cunningly perswaded them to club towards that satisfaction [Page] he hath propounded to himself, which he believes they never shall have the happiness to injoy, and probably he neither: for if she be wife and prudent, she hath her Booms to keep off those who design to clap her aboard; and, haling in her Guns she may seem to be a fenceless Merchant-man, to invite the Enemy to atraque her, but presently run them out again, and so make prize of him that would have done the like to her. Her interest may in some measure be her excuse, when she makes a more then common familiarity, play the Broker to vend her commodities faster, and at a better rate. What will not a Wink, a clap on the shoulder, a tread on the Toe, a wringing by the hand, a leer of the eye, or a low whispering, What say st'a doe, when mans stubborn treacherous design hath banisht his forecast; the good features of her face is the sole Center of all his desires, what then can she desire within the Circle of his ability, which she may not have? what obedience will he not shew? what Tyranny may she not use, when she hath gain'd the Conquest of his heart, if she can but keep possession of her self; 'tis true, a Man of War may board her again and again, and yet she values him not, and never shall rummidge her Hold, knowing how and when to clear her self of him, by blowing up her false Decks, not but that she will let a Man [Page] freely enter, so that he be no Picqueroon or Caper, but an honest Merchant, that will not only largely pay her for the Freight, but make her Supracargo too.

The bucksom lustie man is he (with money in his Pockets) whom she best esteems; a good face, and a proportionable body shall little avail, where only Wheedling words, and not expence shall put a value on him; though she love her pleasure well, yet she will not cut the throat of her profit for its sake; There are indeed a sort of silly Things, who admire a man for his Parts, and are infinitely taken with his expressions, which are so many fine Phrases set together, which serve equally for all Women and are equally to no purpose, unless somtimes they work upon their weakness; and lest the barrenness of his invention should not supply him with stuff to entertain these ignorant Pieces of wantonness; he is very careful of his dress, in the ordering of which he employs all the faculties of his own soul, and his Tailors; This is the man they are so taken with, and this is that ill designing Simpleton that will perswade them to run from their Husbands, with what money or credit they can carry with them, and accompany him, who shall travel them the whole Kingdom over till all the money be spent; his Nagg then, that was before so [Page] mettlesom, tires all of a sudden; and to the intent he may be rid of them, it may be he will do them the kindness, being friend-less, money-less, and in a strange place, to acquaint their Husbands where their Beasts have strayed, whilst he, fearing to be called to an account for making a Market of them, is gone another way, whilst the poor over-ridden Jades are driven home to their shameful habitations. Methinks it is enough to make the worst of the whole Female Sex to blush, when they shall consider the greatness of the number of such women, who consulting their own lust and luxury, never consider the ruine of themselves and Family. The Wheedling Hostess (that I here describe) is of another principle; what she does she conceals from the eye of the World if she can; however, she will so warily demean her self, that the Censorious shall have no other grounds for their ill report, but bare suspicion, and that dis-reputation she knows how to house-wife to advantage, winking at the little talk of Neighbors, that by her silence she may give some occasion to believe, that what is said of her is a truth, that thereby they may be encouraged to make the like attempt; Mistake her not, as she is no Niggard of her pleasure, so she is no Prodigal of her profit, the one being subservient [Page] to, and the supporter of each other; and that she may not lose any of her conquered people, she suffers them not to lie at Rack and Manger, but diets them for fear of surfeting, for she knows their constitution, and that their love is like their stomach, feeding on what it loves, and in the end loath what it loved, till a fresh appetite re-kindle them, which she does by Denials. Put-offs, Jealousies, Jarrings, and an hundred other studied humours; all which are as prevalent as the deluding faces of as many Misses. Her ways are like a Serpent on a Rock, and therefore shall not trace her any further; yet I might have drawn some observations from her management of the Kitchin, and her profound advice to the Female-Servants, how they shall deport themselves to the Guests, neither prostituting nor denying, but subtilly decoying those who make proffers of private kindnesses, but let this at present be sufficient.

CHAP. XIII. The Master of a Ship, and his Owners.

BEfore we come to display the Wheedles and fallacies that are too frequently practis'd, between the Master of a Ship, & his Owners, 'twill not [Page] be irrequisit to give an account of the Original of this Master, and by what means he came to rise to the dignity of a Commander.

As to his birth, we will not doubt but that he may be well extracted, but ill educated, or having too many aboriginall vicious inclinations in him, he too soon becomes an old sinner of a young man: for conceiving his youth to be the season of his Lust, and the hour wherein he ought to be bad, or never, full speed he puts on into all manner of extravagancies, and fearing lest he should lose this time, he spends it, and so is bringing on his head a deal of misery, yet is happy in this, that he is insensible; and though he be like a ship without Pilot or Tackling, driven to and fro, by every blast of his irregular desires, yet we oftentimes see such as he hath been steer'd by Fortune only, into the Haven of an unexpected Honour and Happiness.

His Parents at length despairing of any Reformation, having used a thousand devices to reclaim him, resolve at once to be rid of their shame and care by fending him to Sea, which willingly receivs into her bosom what is spewed out of the Land as nauseous.

From a lend Lad ashore he becomes a more wicked Cabbin-boy of a Ship, for every Storm is his Tutor, teaching him not only how to [Page] slight danger, nay, death it self, but also to curse and pray all in a breath; and when the Tempest is over, forget how to say his Pater-Noster; in stead thereof, his Matins and Vespers are the orderly repeating the Points of the Compass backwards and forwards, not so much in obedience to his Master, or the Captains Command, as for fear of the Capstain, to which his neglect in this, and his inbred Rogueries besides, do cause him frequently to be seized, where the Boat-Swain rectifies his mistakes in the number of the Points of the Compass, by the quantity of blows he receives on his back from the Cat of nine Tails.

As he grows in years, so doth his knowledge encrease in the Art of Navigation, and in the confidence of that understanding he looks out yearly for employment and preferment, being bold in his demands, as he is resolute in his designs, and fears not to speak to his Superiours, though with a mis-becoming confidence, having bin so accustomed to the astonishing Rhetorick of loud-speaking Canons.

His many successful Voyages he hath made to many remote parts of the Universe, at length not only furnisheth his Pockets with money, but brings him into a repute and good esteem, among the Merchants of the Exchange, and elsewhere amongst other people. And to [Page] keep up his Reputation among them, his resort to and about the Royal-Exchange, is as certain, and as constant as a Nun, to the place of her Devotion.

To effect his designs, he finds nothing more expedient than the practice, and therefore hath throughly studied the Art of Conformity; among sober persons he is very serious; among the lighter sort he is jocular, and merry, and let what will be the company, he never forgets to enlarge the benefits may be made by traffick abroad, and how successful and prosperous he hath been in all his Voyages, and all to perswade them that he is not only a knowing, but a lucky man.

According as he finds his designing discourse make an impression on any Person, so he continually urges it, with whatsoever Reasons and demonstrations he can produce, and that you should not doubt the truth of what he says, for confirmation thereof, he refers you to such a Person, who is so much his friend, nay, creature, that he shall averr the verity thereof, after what manner best pleaseth you, either by I Profess, I vow; let me never see my Wife, nor Children; or Damme 'its as true, as God's in Heaven. Though it is as very a lye, as ever the Devil, that grand Seducer of mankind, prompted him to utter.

In every respect he studies to imitate an honest [Page] man, both in words and actions, which with his large pretences, and fair promises, procure him a Wife, with a round sum of money, and then he makes his projects hit as he please himself; if not, he hath got a credit to be believ'd-that what he says is real, and how advantagious such a Voyage would prove, had he but Owners according to his mind, with whom he might Conjoyn, and that he might strike some, whilst he then is in discourse, he insinuates the smalness of the charge in fitting out a Vessel; that it will amount but to so much a man, that so many in Conjunction can be no great Losers, should the Ship miscarry, but should she return in safety (which by Gods providence he questions not) how great will the incom be then, and that as long as she is able to float (which may be many years) she will be a moving Indian-Mine, and will bring them home gold enough, without any labour or digging into the bowels of the Earth to find it.

By many perswasions of great profits accrewing, he induces some to engage with him, in the purchase of a Vessel, but having not compleated his number of Owners, he gets into Partnership a Sail-maker, a Rope-mak'r, a Butcher, a Baker, and it may be too a Block maker: All these are very necessary Implements to work upon, and Instruments to work by, as hereafter shall be demonstrated, all the rest are meer Novices in Sea-affairs.

[Page] Having compleated the four whole Parts of the Ship, by Sixths, Eighths, Twelfths, or from a Third to a Sixteenth: He then tries all his friends, acquaints them with his buying a Ship, that he wants money to perform the Voyage, that whatsoever they supply him with he will faithfully repay upon his return, and by this means borrows considerable sums: to others that are more diffident, he will upon the loan of money make over his Quarter-Part for their security, obliging them to silence, because if it be known it may prejudice a credit he expects from several. Sometimes when he hath got so many real Owners as make up his Complement, by his subtile Infinuation, and deluding Promises, he draws in as many more, and so of his Ship makes two and thirty Sixteenths: This I can assure you hath bin done, but it is hard to conceal the Intrigue, unless the Manager have more craft then ordinary. At last, 'tis ten to one but that he bubbles the crafty Scrivener too; for when he hath engaged in Partnership as many as he can, and taken up what money is possible to be had among his friends and acquaintance, he then singles out some Scrivener (alias, Goose-quill) to whom he relates his whole Concern, not truly as it is, but as he would have it, and by making him swallow the Pills of an unconscionable and [Page] uncustomary interest he enlarges his stock by Bottomry, or Bomery,

Rigg'd, Mann'd and Victuall'd to his hearts content, with his Own and Owners stocks aboard, he hoists up sail, and having a fair Gale he hath little to do but walk on the Decks, or go into his Cabin, and there seriously consult with himself how he shall cheat the Merchant and his Owners. Coming to his Port, and finding his Markets good, he improves his own stock largely, by shipping from his Owners, and though he does it unreasonably (besides his Trading to Ports he had no Commission to sail to, keeping the Vessel out longer then need, to the Owners great charge, to which he hath an excuse should they know it▪ saying, that he was put in thither by stress of Weather,) I say, not so satisfied, he charges them with such a large account, that the expence of the Voyage eats not only through the profit, but into the very bowels of the Principle. Had not the Voyage proved considerably gainful, undoubtedly the honest Master would have taken that care, that the Ship should have been no eye-sore to them, or a Remembrancer, when they saw her what a costly: Whore she hath bin unto them, and in requital of providing for her so well, she at last pickt their Pockets; but he brings her [Page] safe into the Thames, to the great joy of his Partners, whom he prevents coming aboard of him, by going ashore immediately, lest one and the same joy should bring the real and deluded Owners together, and so his Knavery would be detected.

Who so brisk upon the Exchange as now he is? and well he may, having secured most of his own goods without paying Custom, which he knew very well how to do, having the compleat Art of Smugling at his fingers ends: his Owners treat him, and others court him, and nothing for a while is done, but feasting; but the Goods being delivered, and the Ship clear'd, it is high time for our Master to come to an account with his Owners: If he meets them all at one time he is utterly undone; Wherefore such a day he appoints one part to meet, and a day or two after the other: his friends and relations, to whom he sold what did not properly belong unto him: or such, who either sent adventures by him or lent him money, are the first he promises to meet, to be sure, at some Tavern unknown to the other Party, where Wine and good Chear is his welcom ashore: After dinner he acquaints them, that his Voyage proved very indifferent, that they were for the present but small Gainers, however, he questioned not but the next [Page] time it would be more beneficial; that though his pains proved not so gainful as he expected, yet there was so much money for them, notwithstanding the great charges he was at in the Voyage, the Particulars you shall understand hereafter. Indifferently well satisfied with his serious Protestations and future Promises, they depart, leaving him to that business he pretends doth immediately call him aboard, whereas all he hath now to do, is to put himself into a fit posture to receive his other sort of Owners, who we will suppose are met at a Tavern, expecting, according to his hour, the coming of their honest Master, who is a punctual man, for which they all commend him. Here note, the better to pass his unjust Accounts, he hath paid the Baker for the bisket, the Butcher for beef and pork, and the Brewer for his beer, giving them their own Rates, and snipping with them in their over-charging the Ships Account for such Provisions: the Rope and Sail-Maker are satisfied in like manner, whilst the other ignorant Owners are only in expectation of their Dividend.

Having eat and drank plentifully, the Master then produces his Account, which runs much after this manner: For so many men and boys aboard, amongst whom, (though the number be defective he charges his Owners with) [Page] he goes for two, that is, as he is Master, and yet supplies the place of a Chyrurgeon, whose Chest he pretends likewise to furnish at his own charge, for a general benefit to his sickly men, though there be hardly so much as will serve his own turn. Item, for fresh Provision, Fruit, Sugar, and the like, he took in at such a Port, for his weak & sick men, though he came not near that Port within 50 Leagues, which mony he charges, though never disburst, to help out the expences of his own extravagancies, Item, for an Anchor and Cable lost riding in a dangerous Bay, Or Harbour, which he was forced to cut, and stand off to Sea, to save the ship and Seamens lives, which Anchor if lost, was no otherwise than by Mooring his Crazie-Vessel in a Brandy-House, and by the same consequence, might have put to account the loss of his Bow-Sprit and Main-yard, Item, for a Fore-Topsail, which was blown away, or out of pure kindness flew to shore, to make his female Creditors amends for taking up their Linnen, and not making Equivalent satisfaction. Item, for a new one (that cost forty shillings) four pounds. Item, for Extraordinary charges in lying Wind-Bound so long in such a Port, and such a Port, being forced to buy fresh provisions to save the victuals, stowed for the maintainance of the Voyage; though his only [Page] stay was to traffick for himself that while. Item, for another Cable, which in the dead of the night crawl'd out of a Port-hole, and swam like an Eel under water, that it might not be discovered; for if it was, the poor thing knew it would be hindred of its designe, in getting home before the Ship, that it might been tweez'd in peices; and so be made capable of serving its Masters Neck, in a slenderer condition. Item, for a Main-topsail a little cut on purpose by the Boat-swain, that by the connivance of the Master it might be doom'd as unserviceable, and so taken off the yard to be made saleable. Item, for the dammage the said Master sustain'd in his part by the loss of the said sail, by the Roguery of the Seamen, who, seeing their Officers commit greater offences than they had as yet committed, converted this sail to their own uses by cutting out each man his Snack, one a Doublet, another Breeches, or what might serve to accommodatetheir nakedness. Item, for a Main-mast that in a dreadful storm come by the board, though they were becalm'd, or wanted a convenient brisk breeze all the Voyage.

These are not half the Imprimis and the Items he gives them an account of, which one would think were enough to startle a New Sea- Adventurer, who wondring how all these accidents should happen, is silenced by the crafty Sail [Page] or Rope-maker, and back'd by the Brewer, Baker and Butcher, who unanimously affirm, that such like casualties are usual, that they themselves have wofully experienced them, and therefore were the less troubled at them now. The Master hereupon drawing what money he had purposed to pay his Owners before-hand, throws it on the Table; some refuse to pass the Account, whilst the major-interested part cry, Come, come, Gentlemen, the Account is fair enough, pass it, you see we do; and so in the end, to their considerable loss, they are all wrought to a compliance.

The Master having perfected his Accounts, moves for a Stock against the next Voyage; after some pause it is granted, and the Owners aforesaid, whose Trades correspond for fitting out the Ship, act their parts as they did before; Nor is he negligent in Wheedling his other deceived Owners, who with much ado, it may be, contribute somthing to his Proposals, though not so much as formerly, yet enough with what he received from the rest to do his business: for having secured abroad in safe hands what was committed to his trust, in his return he knocks the Ship i'th' Head, by running her aground wilfully, or otherwise; with a Proviso, that he is sure to save all their lives; After this, being unwilling to be one [Page] of Jobs Messengers, he absconds himself in forreign parts, leaving his Creditors at home to bewail their misfortunes, and condemn their Credulity.

Some of them have an excellent way to cheat their Owners of their Slaves as they come from Guinny, thus; It may be the Master may take in threescore or fourscore Blacks, which he intends for the Barbadoes or some other places, the Purser, according to orders and connivance, enters on board so many short; the Doctor or Chyrurgeon, supposing more in the Hold then entred in the Pursers Book, makes a private search for his benefit, for half a crown per head is his due, and finding twenty it may be supernumerary, acquaints the Captain or Master therewith, who tells him (probably after some dispute) that what he says is true, however he would not have him make any words of it, if so he will give him his Fee, and somewhat over-plus; the same thing he promiseth likewise to the Purser, on this condition, they will set their Hands to an Instrument, that he shipt from Guinny such a number of slaves, and no more; they relying upon his word and promise, franckly do it; but returning into England, and demanding of the Master the performance of his promise, he denies that ever he made any such thing, and peremptorily tells them, as he will not give them a farthing, [Page] so he values them not a Fart, and dares them to do their worst; irritated by this Language they complain to the Owners, and before the Masters face accuse him for Cheating them of so many Slaves; he denies it, and cunningly drawing out their Acknowledgement under hand and seal, asks them whether they know their own act and deed; They not denying it, Look you here, Gentlemen, (says he) are not these a Parcel of pure Rogues and Rascals, that durst offer to stain my Reputation, by accusing me of Cheating and Injustice, when here is their, own Hands to condemn their lying Tongues.

Another I heard of, who being Masters-Mate in a long Voyage, the Master died, and thereupon he assumed his place, and undertook the whole Concernes of the Ship, of which the Deceased had a considerable part, coming home, he applied himself to the Widow, who was left in a very good condition, and so pli [...]d her with Protestations of love and affection, that she verily believed him to be in earnest; and that she might not seem indebted to him for kindnesses received, she retalliated all his, not only by possessing him of what Concernes she had in the World, but also gave him liberty to taste those Sweets which properly belong to the Marriage-bed; by this means he made a total Conquest of her person and estate, [Page] and by their jugling together baffled the other Owners; but when he had gotten all into his hands he baffled her that baffled them, for fear of being baffled himself also. I shall say no more of him but this, which was a pleasant repartie of his Owner, who asking him for a Mizen-sail to save two, Replyed; thou shalt have it Master to save two, since in all my life time I never knew thou couldest save one.

A thousand of their tricks and Cozenages might be here inserted, which for want of information, at present I omit, but in due time, as soon as they shall come to my knowledge I'le freely impart them to my Reader.

CHAP. XIV. The Scrivener.

THE Scrivener being already ingeniously dissected, in a Character not long since Printed, I shall forbear Killing him again, but only give you a short Account of some remarkable Passages in his Life and Conversation.

Upon his first starting into the World, having but little moneys in his hands of his own, or others, being but a young man, [Page] and moneyed men fearful of trusting him, he is forced to employ what he hath by him to the best advantage; and like an honest man that intends to thrive in this World, though he be damn'd for it for ever in the VVorld to come, he first tries how widely his Conscience will stretch, and, if he finds it hide-bound, he will pinch it with his teeth, as a Shoomaker his leather, but that he will make it give way. Having gotten the Conquest over that, he begins to feed on the Poor, as the Great Eater of Kent did on Offals, by lending them petty sums, and receive it again by so much per week: if fourty shillings were the sum to be lent, the Borrower had but five and thirty, and out of that paid twelve pence for the Bond, which money must be paid each week, by twelve pence for every pound. If the Sum were any thing considerable, though he had the money by him, yet he would make use of his accustomed delays, though he knew the Borrower responsible, and would not part with a farthing, till he had made enquiry after that he knew as well as any man could tell him; and in the end must have Procuration for his own money, and if Continuation be required, he shall pay sauce for it. Though the Law allows but six per Cent. yet he knows several ways to make forty, by making in the first [Page] place a Bond, which shall be due to a Confident of his, a Prisoner in the Kings Bench, and recovering the penalty at Common-Law, leaves the poor Debtor to sue for relief in Chancery one that is a Prisoner; By lending half-money, half goods in the next place, fifty pounds in money, and fifty pounds in goods, which shall not be worth much above fifteen: By lending in the next place, fifty pound to a person, who shall become bound with one of his acquaintance for one hundred, who is going beyond-sea, to whom he shall give privately a discharge, and the other shall be left to pay the money: And lastly, (not to trouble you with more instances) by taking Judgements, or Warrants of Attorney, and for a little money sweep away three times the value in commodities, to the utter ruine of many Families. A Mort-gage is a sweet gain to him; what a fine Bill of Charges will he reckon: Fifteen shillings for two or three days Horse-hire to view the estate, for his expences in the Journey eighteen shillings, though he did eat nothing but Bread and Cheese all the time he was out, so much for his pains, so much for loss of time, and so much for expedition; all which must be deducted out of what is to be received, and if the money be not duely paid, [Page] he infallibly seals a Lease of Ejectment, and enters on the Premisses, and (to make as sure of it as he can) he presently passes it over to another, one of his Confederates; and do so order the business between them, that the Borrower, shall find but little satisfaction in a Suit of Chancery.

To be short, the Tricks and Wheedles of a Scrivener are so many, that they are innumerable. How many devices hath he in Last Wills and Testaments, not only altering the minde of the Testator, but many times making himself Executor? How many Knavish Partialities does he use in Lease? What benefit does he not make by Arbitrations, by drawing up an Award, making it void or obliging to whom he pleases; by Counter-Bonds and Letters of Attorney, by putting in his use for my use? Lastly, consider his dexterity and ability in counterfeiting Bonds, by which and other indirect means he hath gotten a plentiful estate, to live pleasantly here, to be miserable hereafter.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

Proteus redivivus, or, The art of wheedling or insinuation obtain'd by general conversation and extracted from the several humours, inclinations, and passions of both sexes, respecting their several ages, and suiting each profession or occupation / collected and methodized by the author of the first part of the English rogue.

Head, Richard, 1637?-1686?

Edition statement

1675

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Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A43173

ID [STC]

Wing H1272

ID [STC]

ESTC R13684

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12848768

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12848768

ID [VID]

94479

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Early English books online.

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A43173)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 94479)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 383:10)

Source

— Proteus redivivus, or, The art of wheedling or insinuation obtain'd by general conversation and extracted from the several humours, inclinations, and passions of both sexes, respecting their several ages, and suiting each profession or occupation / collected and methodized by the author of the first part of the English rogue., Head, Richard, 1637?-1686?.

Extent

[17], 352 p.

Printed by W.D. ...,. London :: 1675.. ("The author's epistle" signed: R.H. [i.e. Richard Head]. Cf. BM.) (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.)

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