OH my friend, M. Some-body, the heavens be thanked that I have so fortunately met with thee, to make thee acquainted with my sad condition; for I protest, that above this thrée moneths toge­ther, I have been so sad, so troubled in mind, and so perplexed with melancholy thoughts, that it hath almost brought me into despair.

Alas Mr. Nobody, these words of yours strikes grief unto my soul: for I never grieve more then when I hear that word, De­spair. I desire you now without delay to tell me the occasion why, and wherefore you are so troubled.

Ha: I verely thought to have told thee but I will refrain, I know thou canst do me no good, nor none in the world.

None in the world! me thinks that is very strange; surely you are troubled with a dis­ease that none in the world is besides.

That which troubles me so, is no dis­ease, therefore you are mistaken in that; but I must confess to thee, that I think it will bring diseases upon me.

Let me desire you then in the word of a friend, not to keep close to your self those things which so much trouble you but impart them to me; you know I have been your old friend, and have always wished you well: Hearken now to my counsel you know not how much good I may do you; I have been a Doctor in all parts of the world, and have cured many which I verily be­leeve have been worse then you are, and here in my native Countrie I have performed cures, which I think you must needs hear of; and you having been troubled but three moneths, you wil be the sooner cured.

I know as good a Doctor as you are: and for all you have cured so manie, yet nothing that you can do can cure me; for although I have been troubled in mind but thrée moneths, yet I have been past cure many thousand years: Were I as wise now as I have formerly been, I had never disquieted my self so much as I have done: but I must tell thee too, so many thousand [Page] years I have lived in hope that things would have grown better and better but now I sée they grow worse and worse, which hath brought me into this lamentable condition.

You speak as if you were very old, and it is a common saying, that the older folk grow the more wit they have; but I perceive the old­er you grow the more fool you are. Me thinks you had done wisely, if you had slighted those things which did not please you, and so your thoughts had not been disquieted; but this that you have said now is a Paradox to me, I know not what your meaning is, in saying, that you have been troubled in mind but three moneths, and have been part cure thousands of years: I desire therefore, that you would demonstrate to me how this can be!

Alas poor soul, I should be very willing to demonstrate to thee that my words are true, were I in the least hope that thou couldest do me any good: but knowing that thou art not potent enough to do it, I will never declare what it is that hath brought me into this sad condition, but kéep it close to my self.

You may tell me however, whether I can do thee good or not; you know that I cannot make you worse, it may be I may make thee bet­ter; but I protest unto thee, that I never heard [Page] any speak such words as thou hast done, to say that thou hast been past cure thousands of years, I never heard nor read of any that hath been troubled in mind so long as you have been, but either they have been cured in a short time or else come to some desperate end; and more, I ne­ver heard or read of any that lived a thousand years, and you speak as if you were ten times as old as Methusalem.

Thou tellest me thou canst not make me worse I am sure thou canst not make me bet­ter; and yet let me tell thee how thou canst make me worse: Thou maiest make me worse by thy abundance of words, for my mind is trou­bled enough already, but these tormenting words of thine, if thou holdest not thy tongue, will make me far worse then ever I have been yet: me thinks I am ashamed that thou being a Doctor, shouldest speak such simple werds, to say, thou canst not make me worse. But the truth is thy pocket (I think) is empty of money; thou would­est be tampering with me to give me Physick: but know, that no Physick in the world can do me any good, and I know Doctors love monie very well. Thou saiest thou dost wonder that I should say I have been troubled in mind but three moneths, and have béen past cure thousands of years; thou needest not to wonder at it, for [Page] what I have said is nothing but truth, and more I will tell thee that as I have a name by my self, so I am troubled about that which none in the world is besides my self.

Alas sir, I am sorry I should be a means to make you worse; for I ingeniously professe unto you, that I love you so well, that I should be almost contented to die, so that it might be a means to make you better: but I find now your mind is changed, for at my first méeting with you, you told me that you thought your self infinite happy because you had so fortunately met with me, that you might acquaint me with your sad condition, and indeed I thought my words would have prevailed so much with you, that I should have driven away those sad cogita­tions, which do so perplex your mind; you need not be ashamed for that I said, I thought I could do you good (if you would tell me the occasion why you were so troubled:) if I had tried and could not, I hope you would have accepted the will for the deed, and for saying I dissemble and what I speak is for nothing but to get monie out of you. I protest you do me a world of injurie, I thank God, I have monie enough but had I none it would be great necessity which should drive me to take monie of you; and I must tell you more, that we Physitians are undeservedly [Page] scandalized by all sorts of people, whose saying is, that all of us love monie very well, but alas tis contrary, for I think we value monie less then any do, though we have more reason to love our monie more then any do: I beleeve wise men will say so, if they consider the world of pains we endure rising out of our beds all hours of the night, and walking about all the day long to visit our patients so that we have scarce time to eat either dinners or suppers; I protest it is enough to bring diseases upon our selves, and what would the people do then for Physitians? You say I need not wonder at what you said that you have been troubled in mind but three Mo­neths, and have been past cure thousands of years, you shew me indeed a reason why I should not wonder at it because that I never heard any of your name besides your self, and as you have a name by your self, so you say you are troubled about that which none other is: But I pray you once again to tell me what it is; I am the more earnest, because none else hath been troubled with it.

Surely you are long winded, and love to prittle prattle; but Physitians are so for the most part, they can tel a tale two or three hours together; but I do not say you can therfore excuse me: you know I love to be merry sometimes.

Hah, do you love to be merry, and said but now that you were almost in despair these three moneths together? I perceive you can lie as well as others: surely what you have said is not true, but onelie to see what I would say to it.

What I have told you is true and if I should tel you my grief it would but grieve you.

Why do you tell me so? I should rejoice rather, for the assured hope and confidence I have to cure you, would make me rejoice.

Cure me! me thinks thou speakest like a very fool: thou talkest of curing me if I would tell thee my grief; I have told thee already, and that is not enough, but thou must know the cause of it; Physitians desire no more but to know the disease. But surelie thou art no Phy­sitian, but some Farrier, fitter to cure a horse thā a man, and now thou professest thy self a Doctor.

Sir me thinks you speak more like a fool then J; for though Physitians desire but to know the disease that avails not you for you have confessed that yours was no disease, but perplex­ity of mind; if J knew what did perplex thee, J might perswade you out of it. it is good coun­sel (if any thing) that must do you good, and this is the reason why J am so importunate: if this desire be simple, J have no wisdome in me. J be­seech you let me make one more acquainted [Page] with the condition you are in, and J will be judged by him, whether or no that which J have spoken is simple; but why should J be so desirous to get means to cure you, seeing you so abuse me to my face, in calling me Farrier and more fitter to cure a horse then to undertake to cure a man, J took you alwaies to be my friend, but J perceive now that you are so far from it, that you are my absolute enemie, or else you would never have cast such aspersions upon me; what J have desired all this time that J have been present with you, hath been for your good and not for mine if you were so deep in despair, and it were impossible to cure you you know it will be nothing to me, J should never be the better or the worse, but being one of my old acquaint­ance, therefore J should be sorry to see you grow in despair: and for all you have abused me so to my face, yet J will never abuse you so, but esteem of you as my friend, J can forget injuries presently, you see how soon an­ger slies out of my breast J cannot retain it a moment within me: and now Sir, J would de­sire you to be wise, as you esteem your own good, and be not so self-willed in your ways.

What doest thou think I am a fool, and have lived so long in the world: I am as old (almost) as Adam, and wilt thou teach me to [Page] be wise, no know that I have wit enough, and I pray thee be not so angry, because I said thou art fitter to cure a horse, then to undertake to cure a man for I protest I am sorry for it, and furthermore I tell thee, it proceeded more out of my passion, then any ill will I have towards thee and therefore pardon me for it, I know thou hast performed great cures, which I have heard di­vers men report, and I assure my self it is true: but me thinks thou didst ask me one simple question even now; which was, that thou desi­rest to acquaint another in what a condition I am in, but I must tell thee that I am so far from yeelding to thy desire, that hadst thou not been one, whom I thought I might put confidence in, thy self should never have known it: further­more know that I am past all cure, and none can do no good.

Sir me thinks I am not simple, because I desired you to permit me that I might make a­nother acquainted with your distressed estate; for thinking my self almost out of hope to prevail with you therefore I desired to acquaint ano­ther with it, to see whether he could prevail with you, and also to judge, whether that I spoke before was simple, and seeing you will not per­mit me to do this, I tell you plainly I am out of hope, that ever you will tell me what it is that troubles your mind.

Me thinkes that in all this time thou hast béen discoursing with me, thou mightest have found out thy self what is it that hath al­most brought me into dispair.

Alas sir, I think it is impossible for me to dive into your thoughts, and by your discourse I cannot tell what it is.

Impossible! that is not true, for I ve­rily beléeve, had you as much wit as you professe you have; you must needs know.

Sir, I am no Divel nor Witch (though I am a Doctour) to tell such strange things: you told me I might have found it out having so long discourse with you; but truly I think, should I discourse ten times as long again with you I should not know.

No, Divell nor Witch I beléeve you are not, but I cannot beleeve, but that you know already, what it is that troubles my mind so much.

I must thank you for the good opinion you have of me, but truly I must tell you a­gain, I know not, neither do I think (without you tell me) I ever shall.

Mr. Doctor, you néed not be so desirous to know, but I think your Conscience accuseth you.

Accuse me! I desire you would [Page] tell me for what, for truly I know not.

I must tell you plain, if your conscience do not accuse you, it may do justly.

I desire to know again what my con­science should accuse me of you have put me in great admiration, I know not what it should be unlesse some busie body hath told some false-tales on me.

No Sir, know that none in the world e­ver told any tale to me, but what I know my self.

I desire then you would tell me what you know your self of me.

Know of thee? I shall tell presently, thy self is one that hath almost brought me into des­pair.

Oh woe is me, am I one that hath almost brought you into dispair? the heavens forbid it I should think I were the most unfortunates wretch in the world, should I be guilty of so heinous a crime.

Now I perceive thine ignorance thou little thinkst wherein thou hast almost brought me in to despair, and for all thou sayest thou wouldest not for a world be guilty of so heinous a crime, yet I tell thée that thou art; but more I must tell thée, that there are thousands in the world that are more guilty then thou art.

You talk that I am guilty, and thou­sands which are more guilty, but all this time I know not of what I am guilty off, I would I were so wise to know, and then I doubt not, but I shall sufficiently satisfie you.

Satisfie me! I know thou canst not sa­tisfie me that thou art clear, for I am sure of the contrarie, and I tell thee again, that thou, and more then thousands, yea the whole world, hath abused and wronged me.

Is that it that troubles you so much? me thinks this is the strangest thing that ever I heard of that all the world should abuse one man, I desire you would tell me how they have abused you, and then I will beleeve it.

I can easily make it appear unto you in what the world have abused me: but what néed I? I know thou canst not help it: one thing I tell thee more that these dayes of late I am more scandalized and wronged then ever I was here­tofore, that I think the Divel is in them all.

Sir, pray be not so passionate, I think you will be frantick as you have said, I desire you would tell me how I have abused and belied you, and after you have told me, I desire you would procéed to tell me how all the world have scandalized you.

Well, séeing you are so earnest to know [Page] I will tell you; but first thou must tell me, whe­ther in all thy life thou hast committed any faults?

Alas Sir, there is none in the world but commits faults either one time or another (I think) I am sure for my part I have.

Thou hast resolved me in this, now re­solve me in one more I know thou canst do it, hast thou denied thy faults when thou hast done them, or no?

Truly Sir, I must confesse unto you, that I love quietnesse very well, and when I have committed a fault, I do the best I can to ex­cuse my self.

That is not the thing I desired thee to tell me; I requested of thée when thou hast done a fault whether thou didst deny it, or no?

Then truly Sir, to tell you the truth, when I have committed a fault I denied that e­ver I did it?

Who hast thou laied the fault on, or who hast thou said did it.

When I was asked who did it, I made answer that No-body did it which I knew.

Now have I found out by thy own words how thou hast abused and belied me, oh dissem­bling wretch, thou didst alwaies pretend, that thou desirest to know what it was that had al­most [Page] brought me in despair for my good; but now have I found out to the contrary: thou wouldst not for a world be the cause of any ones falling into dispair, and thou hast been one cause of mine, I perceive thy dissimulation; I char­ged thee with it before, but thou didst deny it: now therefore tell me why thou castest such as­persions upon me, and so bely me, that when thou hadst done faults to lay it upon me.

Sir, you have put me in a maze I know not (as yet) what to say, but I desire you that you would give me a little time that I may an­swer you.

Thou mayest well be in a maze, for I know thou canst not answer for thy self, thine own conscience is as a thousand witnesses a­gainst thee: thou didst think certainly that I would not have thought, that thou hadst abused me; but I know thou hast put many abu­ses on me: Now therefore confesss thy wic­kednesse unto me, and that thou hast belied me, and I will forgive thée; provided, that thou will never do so again.

Truly Sir, I must confesse that many thousand faults which I have done, I have deni­ed, and when another hath béen asked, he hath denied it, and another he denies it, and so all de­nies it, and at last it is concluded that No body [Page] did it: I confesse I was ignorant of this, that I a­bused you.

Ignorant of it, I cannot beleeve thee. thou art a dissembler, and J took thee alwaies to be my friend, but J perceive now thou art mine enemy, or else thou wouldest never have cast such scandals on me behind my back.

Mr. No-body, as long as I live I shall be ever bound to pray for you; for I protest I have learned more wit of you then ever I had in my life before, and now I beseech you sweet Sir, to pardon me for the abuses J have done you and I shall ever hereafter be carefull that I tell no more lies on you, and once again sweet Mr. No-body forgive me.

Well, seeing thou hast so earnestlie de­sired me to forgive thee I will, but be sure thou never tell more lies on me as thou hast former­ly.

I never thought y^u had so much wit in you, as now I see you have, and me thinks you having so much wit might free your self from the asper­sions of the world.

That I can never do for I am not able to bind peoples tongues, and so long as they have them at liberty, so long shall I be abused.

You speak very true Sir, and now I pray shew me how many things the world lay to your charge.

That I will though to my grief shew thee, and first I wil begin with the high crimes, murther shall be the first; when any murther is done, I am accused for it, when inquiry is mode after it, none will own it, so it falleth on me poor Nobody, but I would have the world know, I am not guilty of such heinous crimes, and therefore when murthers are done again, I would desire all people not to charge me with it.

All that you have said now is true, for I have been where men have been murthered, and when search and inquiry have been made for them that did it, they could not be found; so then the searchers have said surely this is strange, Nobody hath done it. And now Mr. Nobody I tell you, if I am in place where mur­thers are found out again; I will do my best in­deavour to clear you and not suffer such things to be laid to your charge.

I thank thee kindly sweet Doctor I shall now esteem thee as a dear friend, but I know thy endeavours will be in vain, and therefore trouble not thy self, for if there was any means in the world I should have found it out before this time, and now I will proceed to tell thee some other crimes which are laid to my charge, but I know it is impossible to tell thee all

I desire you (sir) to stay a little while before you proceed, that I may ask you a questi­on; whether you were ever taken upon suspici­on of such things?

I was never taken; for I am so swift of foot, and so vigilant, that tis impossible; al­so I am here and there in a moment.

You may rejoice much that you cannot be taken: and now you have satisfied me in this, I would desire you to proceed.

When Rogues have broken up hou­ses, and stolen things, if they chance to escape, then I am accused for it, No body hath done it: what a most sad condition am I in, that must be thus abused.

When Robberies are committed upon the high-way, if they escape also, then I am accused for it; for they cover their faces with visards, thinking to make it like mine, when (alas) I am ignorant of it.

When Houses are set on fire by Rogues, then I am accused for it; for they run away, and when enquiry is made for them, they are not to be found, then some say, This is strange, Nobody did it.

Again, I am accused for swearing, though I never swore an Oath in my life; For when the Constable commeth, and demandeth ten groats [Page] for every Oath, then they straightway deny it, and say, they knew No body which swore: and thus you see I am abused, this is like to all the rest.

Again, When a lying Pamplet comes out against the State, none owns it, so I am accu­sed for it.

Again, I am abused by Trades-men, for when they buy a parcel of ware, and steal the Excise, and when the Excise-men come and demand it of them they deny it, and say, They knew No body which did it.

Again. When Young Fellowes have got Young Lasses with Child, then I am accused for it for they deny it, and say No body did it which they knew; all roguery falls on me, I must endure all.

Again, In poor mens houses, both in City and Countrey I am abused, for when their chil­dren get to the Cup-board, and eate up the Bread and Cheese, and when their Parents ask, Who did it? they deny it, and say No body did it.

In the houses of Kings, Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Trades-men Yeomen. Farmers, Husbandmen, yea, and poor Labouring men, in all their Houses, the faults that are done are imputed to me; what a [Page] lamentable condition am I in, that should thus be scandalized before the whole world, what a grief is this to my soul, but I must be conten­ted, I could tell thee thousands of ways more how I am abused, but I will omit them till I have told thee the pains that I take too.

When Gentlemen, Knights, and such like ride journies and have no serving men to wait upon them then I am fain to be their foot boy to run by their horse side.

When folks are gone all out of their houses, then am I fain to be there, vigilantly to look to it, and kéep it from all harm.

When young fellows leaves their work and goes to play, then am I fain to work in their stead, that their masters may not be displeased with them.

When souldiers are placed in a Castle to keep it, if it chance that an enemy comes a­gainst it, they like cowardly rogues steal away by night, and I am left (onely) to keep it, thousands more I could tell thee of, but that I think it will be a vexation unto thee, yet how­ever I will tell thee two or three more; the first is that when men are put to hard work, and cannot tell how do it, then I am fain to do it.

When men neglect their business, and will not go to do it, then am I fain to go.

Again, business that none in the world is a­ble to do, that I am put to do.

Again, when Knights Gentlemen, or others have any stinking meat in their house, that the dog is not able to eat, then I must; thus they requite me for my pains; oh ingrateful wretches look to it, for be confident that one day you shall all dearly rue for it: oh in what a deplorable con­dition I am in, to be abused by the whole world, is not this enough to bring me into despair.

Enough! yea half of them it is enough to bring any one into dispair, & for my part Mr. No-body, I will alwayes lament your sad con­dition and pray that you may be delivered from them all.

Ah, I thank thee kindly, what a great comfort have I in the enjoying of thy sweet companie, would thou couldest continue with me alwaies I should think my self then happy, though I have so many afflictions, and being I love thee so well, I will proceed to tel thee more.

Let me tell you one thing first which is a comfort to you.

What is that?

Why this it is (as I conceive) when one Gentleman invites another, or one Lady a­nother [Page] or more if they fail to come: then you are there in their stead so that by this thing you get a world of good chear, and have all the dainties that is to be gotten; is not this true?

Yes it is true that I am fain to be there, but the Devil as soon as any dainty I eat: but if I did, doest thou think that it would be such a comfort unto me; no know, that I am not such a belly-God: but my afflictions strikes nearer to my heart then all the comforts in the world do; doest thou think I take comfort in any thing? no no, I do not.

Alas Sir, the more sorry I am to hear it, that you take comfort in nothing oh I am grieved as much as you, to hear these deadly words: but one thing grieves me more then all the rest, that I must of necessity be gone from you for my occasions are so great, that if I should not go it would be n eternal infamy to me.

Ah Sir, must you depart? I am sorry to hear it; but pray tell me why would it be such an infamy to you, if you should stay.

Sir I'l tell you, this morning I was with a sick patient of mine, and I promised in two hours to be with him again, and I have been above six hours from him, and truly I left him extream ill, and should he die in the mean time, it would be an eternal infamy unto me.

You speak very true, and seeing your oc­casions are so great, that you must be gone, I would desire you to appoint a time when we shall méet again, for I have not discovered half my griefs unto thée.

I cannot appoint a certain time when I shall meet you, but be confident Sir, that the next convenient opportunity I have, I wil wait upon you.

Well, be sure thou fail not in thy pro­mise, and remember what I have said unto thee.

Yes Sir, I will remember all that you have said unto me, and so farewell till our next meeting.