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 2] 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 3] 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 4] 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.

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 5] 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 6] 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,

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 7] 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.

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 53] 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 54] 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 55] 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.

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.

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 57] 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 58] 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 59] 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 60] 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 61] 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.

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 73] 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 74] 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 75] 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 76] 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 77] 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 78] 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 79] 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 80] 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.

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 82] 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 83] 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 84] 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 85] 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.

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 87] 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 88] 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 89] 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 90] 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 91] 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.

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.

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 93] 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 94] 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 95] 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 96] 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.

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 98] 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 99] 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 100] 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 101] 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.

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 144] 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 145] 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 146] 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 147] 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 148] 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 149] 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 150] 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 151] 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 152] 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 153] 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 154] 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 155] 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 156] 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.

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 158] 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 159] 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 160] 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 161] 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 162] 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 163] 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 164] 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 165] (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 166] 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 167] 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 168] 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 169] 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 170] 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 171] 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 172] 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.

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 174] 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 175] 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 176] 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.

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 178] 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 179] 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 180] 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 181] 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 182] 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.

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 183] 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 184] 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 185] 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 186] 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 187] 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 188] 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 189] 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 190] 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 191] 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 192] 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 193] 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 194] 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 195] 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 196] 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 197] 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 198] 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 199] 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 200] 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 201] 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 202] 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 203] 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 204] 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 205] 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.

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 207] 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 208] 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 209] 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 210] 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 211] 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 212] 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 213] 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 214] 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 215] 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 216] 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 217] 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 218] 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 219] 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 220] 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 221] 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 222] 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 223] 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 224] 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 225] 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 226] 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 227] 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 228] 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 229] 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 230] 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.

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 232] 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,

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 234] 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,

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,

[Page 235] 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 236] 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.

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 237] 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 238] 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 239] 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 240] 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 241] 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 242] 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 243] 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.

[Page 244] 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 245] 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 246] 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 247] 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.

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 248] 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 249] 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 250] 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 251] 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.

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 258] 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 259] 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 260] 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 261] 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 262] 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 263] 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 264] 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 265] 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 266] 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 267] 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 268] 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 269] 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 270] 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 271] 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 272] 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 273] 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 274] 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 275] 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 274] 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.

But to proceed, I say his face seems as in­tricate as the most winding Cause, and talks [Page 275] 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 278] 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 279] 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 278] 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 279] 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 282] 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 283] 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 182] 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 283] 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 286] 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 287] 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 86] 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 289] 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 290] 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 291] 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 292] 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 293] 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 294] 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 295] 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.

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 297] 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 298] 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 299] 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 300] 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 301] 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 302] 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 303] (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 304] 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 305] 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 306] 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 307] 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 308] 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 309] 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 310] 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 311] 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 312] 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 313] 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 314] 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 315] 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 316] 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 317] 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 318] 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 319] 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 320] 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 321] 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 322] 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 323] 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 324] 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 325] 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 326] 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 327] 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 328] 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 329] 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 330] 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 331] 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 332] 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 333] 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 334] 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 335] 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 336] 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 737] 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 338] 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 339] 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 340] 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 341] 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 342] 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 343] 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 344] 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 345] 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 346] 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 347] 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 348] 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 349] 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 350] 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 351] 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 352] 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.