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The work now restored to public notice has had an extraordinary fate. At the time of its original publication it obtained a great celebrity, which continued more than half a century. During that period few books were more read, or more de- servedly applauded. It was th" delight of the learned, the solace of the indolent, and the refuge of the uninformed. It passed through at least eight editions, by which the bookseller, as Wood records, got an estate ; and, notwithstanding the objection sometimes opposed against it, of a quaint style, and too great an accumulation of authorities, the fascination of its wit, fancy, and sterling sense, have borne down all censures, and extorted praise from the first writers in the Englisli language. The grave Johnson has praised it in the warmest terms, and the ludicrous Sterne has interwoven many parts of it into his own popular performance. Milton did not dis- dain to build two of his finest poems on it ; and a host of inferior writers have em bellished their works with beauties not their own, culled from a performance which they had not the justice even to mention. Change of times, ana the frivolity of fashion, suspended, in some degree, that fame which had lasted near a century ; and the succeeding generation afiected indifference towards an author, who at length was only looked into by the plunderers of literature, the poachers in obscure volumes. The plagiaiisms of Tristram Shandy, so successfully brought to light by Dr. Fer- RiAR, at length drew the attention of the public towards a writer, who, though then little knowii, might, without impeachment of modesty, lay claim to every mark of respect; and inquiry proved, beyond a doubt, that the rails of justice had been little attended to by others, as well as the facetious Yorick. Wood observed, more thar, a century ago, that several authors had unmercifully stolen matter from Burton without any acknowledgment. The time, however, at ien«jth arrived, when ihe merits of the Jinatomy of Melancholy were to receive their due praise. The book was again sought for and read, and again it became an applauded performance. Its excellencies once more stood confessed, in the increased price which every copy offered for sale produced ; and the increased demand pointed out the necessity of a new edition. This is now presented to the public in a manner not disgraceful to the memory of the author ; and the publisher relies with confidence, that so valuable a lepository of amusement and information will continue to hold the rank to which it has been restored, firmly supported by its own merit, and safe from the influence and blight of any future caprices of fashion. To open its valuable mysteries to those who have not had the advantage of a classical education, translations of the countless quotations from ancient writers which occur in the work, are now for the first time given, and obsolete orthography is in all instances modernized.



JloBERT Burton was the son of Ralph Burton, of an ancient and genteel Umily at Lindley, in Leicestershire, and was born there on the 8th of Februarv 1576.* He received the first rudiments of learning at the free school of Sutton Coldfield, in Warwickshire,t from whence he was, at the age of seventeen, in the .ong vacation, l/>93, sent to Brazen Nose College, in the condition of a com- moner, where he made considerable progress in logic and philosophy. In I )9t) ne was elected student of Christ Church, and, for form's sake, was put under the ttiition of Dr. John Bancroft, afterwards Bishop of Oxford. In 1614 he wafl admitted to the reading of the Sentences, and on the 29th of November, 1616, had the vicarage of St. Thomas, in the west suburb of Oxford, conferred on him by the dean and canons of Christ Church, which, with the rectory of Segrave, ir Leicestershire, given to him in the year 1636, by George, Lord Berkeley, he kept to use the words of the Oxford antiquary, with much ado to his dying day. 1I< seems to have been first beneficed at Walsby, in Lincolnshire, through the muni ficence of his noble patroness, Frances, Countess Dowager of Exeter, but resigned the same, as he tells us, for some special reasons. At his vicarage he is remarked to have always given the sacrament in wafers. Wood's character of him is, that ' he was an exact mathematician, a curious calculator of nativities, a general read scholar, a thorough-paced philologist, and one that understood the surveying of lands well. As he was by many accounted a severe student, a devourer of authors, a melancholy and humorous person ; so by others, who knew him well, a person of great honesty, plain dealing and charity. I have heard some of the ancients of Christ Church often say, that his company was very merry, facete, and juvenile;

* His elder brother was William Burton, the Leicestershire antiquary, born 24th August, I.'iT.'J, eilucated at Sutton Coldfield, admitted commoner, or jrentleman commoner, of Brazen Nose College, f59] ; at the Innft Temple, 20lh May, 1593; B. A. 2-2d June, 1594 ; and afterwards a barrister and. reporter in the Court of Cotninoii Pleas. "But his natural genius," says Wood, "leading him to the studies of heraldry, genealogies, and anti- quities, he became excellent in those obscure and intricate matters; and look upon him as a gentleman, was accounted, by all that knew him, to be the best of his time for those studies, as may appear by his ' Oescription of Leicestershire.'" His weak constitution not permitting him to follow business, he retired into the country. and his greatest work, " The Description of Leicestershire," was published in folio, 1622. He died at FaUle. »fler suffering much in the civil war, 6th April, 1645, and was buried in the parish church belonging th^■reto. called Hanbury.

1 Th'.s is Wood's account. His will says, Nuneaton; but a passage in this work fsee fol. 304 \ mention* Sutton ')o -I.ield : piobablv he may have been at both schools.

A /w

vi Account of the Author

and no man in his lime did surpass him for his ready and dexterous interlarding his common discourses among them with verses from the poets, or sentences from classic auth')rs; which being then ail the fashion in the University, made Ins compai; y the more acceptable." He appears to have been a universal reader of all kinds of books, and availed himself of his multifarious studies in a very extra- ordinary manner. From the information of Hearne, we learn that John Rouse, the Bodleian librarian, furnished him with choice books for the prosecution of his work. The subject of his labour and amusement, seems to have been adopted from the infirmities of his own habit and constitution. Mr. Granger says, " He composed this book with a view of relieving his own melancholy, but increased it' to such a degree, that nothing could make him laugh, but going to the bridge-foot and hearing the ribaldry of the bargemen, which rarely failed to throw him into a violent fit of laughter. Before he was overcome with this horrid disorder, he, ir the intervals of his vapours, was esteemed one of the most facetious companions ir the University."

His residence was chiefly at Oxford ; where, in his chamber in Christ Churcl College, he departed this life, at or very near the time which he had some years before foretold, from the calculation of his own nativity, and which, says Wood, " being exact, several of the students did not forbear to whisper among themselves, that rather than there should be a mistake in the calculation, he sent up his soul to heaven through a slip about his neck." Whether this suggestion is founded m truth, we have no other evidence than an obscure hint in the epitaph hei'eafter inserted, which was written by the author himself, a short time before his death. His body, with due solemnity, was buried near that of Dr. Robert Weston, m the north aisle which joins next to the choir of the cathedral of Christ Church, on the 27th of January 1639-40. Over his grave was soon after erected a comely monu- nrient, on the upper pillar of the said aisle, with his bust, painted to the life. On the right hand is the following calculation of his nativity :


discount of the Author. ^^i

and under the bust, this inscription of his own composition :

Paucis notus, paucioribus ignotus,

Hie jacet Democritus junior

Cui vitatn dodit et mortem Melancholia Ob. 8 Id. Jan. A. C. mdcxxxix.

*rms- Azure on a bend O. between three dogs' heads O. a crescent G.

A few months before his death, he made his will, of which the following is a copy:

Extracted from the Registry of the Prerogative Court of Canterbuht.

In nomine Dei Amen. August 15th One thousand six hundred thirty nine because there be so many casualties to which our life is subject besides quarrelling and contention which happen to our Successors after our Death by reason of unsettled Estates I Robert Burton Student of Christ- church Oxon. though my means be but small have thought good by this my last Will and Testa- ment to dispose of that little which I have and being at this present I thank God in perfect health of Bodie and Mind and if this Testament be not so formal according to the nice and strict terms T)f Law and other Circumstances peradventure required of which I am ignorant I desire howsoever this my Will may be accepted and stand good according to my true Intent and meaning First I bequeath Animam Deo Corpus Terrae whensoever it shall please God to call me I give my Land in Higham which my good Father Ralphe Burton of Lindly in the County of Leicester Esquire gave me by Deed of Gift and. that which I have annexed to that Farm by purchase since, now leased for thirty eight pounds per Ann. to mine Elder Brother William Burton of Lindly Esquire during his life and after him to his Reirs I make my said Brother William likewise mine Executor as well as paying such Annuities and Legacies out of my Lands and Goods as are hereafter specified I give to my nephew Cassibilan Burton twenty pounds Annuity per Ann. out of my Land in Higham during his life to be paid at two equall payments at our Lady Day in Lent and Michaelmas or if he be not paid within fourteen Days after the said Feasts to distrain on any part of the Ground or on any of my Lands of Inheritance Item I give to my Sister Katherine Jackson during her life eight pounds per Ann. Annuity to be paid at the two Feasts equally as above said or else to distrain on the Ground if she be not paid after fourteen days at Lindly as the other some is out of the said Land Item I give to my Servant John Upton the Annuity of Forty Shillings out of my said Farme during his life (if till then my Servant) to be paid on Michaelmas day in Lind- ley each year or else after fourteen days to distrain Now for my goods I thus dispose them First I give an Cth pounds to Christ Church in Oxford where I have so long lived to buy five pounds Lands per Ann. to be Yearly bestowed on Books for the Library Item I give an hundredth pound to the University Library of Oxford to be bestowed to purchase five piound Land per Ann. to be paid out Yearly on Books as Mrs. Brooks formerly gave an hundred pounds to buy Land to the same purpose and the Rent to the same use I give to my Brother George Burton twenty pounds and my watch I give to my Brother Ralph Burton five pounds Item I give to the Parish of Sea. grave in Leicestershire where I am now Rector ten pounds to be given to a certain Feoffees to the perpetual good of the said Parish Oxon* Item I give to my Niece Eugenia Burton One hundredth pounds Item I give to my Nephew Richard Burton now Prisoner in London an hundredth pound to redeem him Item I give to the Poor of Higham Forty Shillings where my Land is to the poor of Nuneaton where I was once a Grammar Scholar three pound to my Cousin Purfey of Wadlake [Wadley] my Cousin Purfey of Calcott my Cousin Hales of Coventry my Nephew Bradshaw of Orton twenty shillings a piece for a small remembrance to Mr. Whitehall Rector of Cherkby rnyne own Chamber Fellow twenty shillings I desire my Brother George and my^Cosen Purfey of Cal- cott to be the Overseers of this part of my Will I give moreover five pounds to make a small Monument for my Mother where she is buried in London to my Brother Jackson forty shillings to mv Servant John Upton forty shillings besides his former Annuity if he be my Servant till I die ifhe be till then my Servantf—ROBERT BURTON— Charles Russell Witness John Peppe» Witness.

So in the Register tSo in the Register.

viii „lccount of the Author.

An Apjiendix v.i this my Will if I die in Oxford or whilst I am of Christ Chu "h tmi with good Mr. f aynes August the Fifteenth 1639.

I give to Mr. Doctor Fell Dean of Christ Church Forty Shillings to the Eight Cauoi t t sf^Wy Shillings a piece as a small remembrance to the poor of St. Thomas Parish 'J'wenly Shii.«ngi t<! Brasenose Library five pounds to Mr. Rowse of Oriell Colledge twenty Shillings to Mr. Heywooii xxs, to Dr. Metcalfe xxf: to Mr. Sherley xxs. If I have any Books the University Library hath not, let them take them If I have any Books our own Library halh not, let them take them I give to Mrs. Fell all my English Books of Husbandry one excepted to

her Daughter Mrs. Katberiiie Fell my Six Pieces of Silver Plate and six Silver spoons to Mrs. lies my Gerards Herbail To Mrs. Morris my Country Farme Translated out of French 4. and all my English Physick Books to Mr. Whistler the Recorder of Oxford I give twenty shillings to all my fellow Students Mrs of Arts a Book in fol. or two a piece as Master Morris Treasurer or Mr. Dean shall appoint whom I request to be the Overseer of this Appendix and give him for his pains Atlas Geografer and Ortelius 'J'heatrum Mond' I give to John Fell the Dean's Son Student my Mathe- matical Instruments except my two Crosse Staves which I give to my Lord of Donnol if he be then of the House To 'I'homas lies Doctor lies his Son Student Saluntch on Paurrhelia and Lucian's Works in 4 Tomes If any books be left let my Executors dispose of them with all such Books as are written with my own hands and half my Melancholy Copy for Crips hath the other half To Mr. Jones Chaplin and Chanter my Surveying Books and Instruments To the Servants of the House Forty Shillings ROB. BURTON— Charles Russell Witness John Pepper Witness This Will was shewed to me by the Testator and acknowledged by him some few days before his death to be his last Will Ita Testor John Morris S Th D. Prebendari' Eccl Chri' Oxon Feb. 3, 1639.

Probatum fuit Testamentum suprascriptum, &c. 11° 1640 Juramento Willmi Burton Fris' et Executoris cui &c. de bene et fideliter administrand. &c. coram Mag'ris Nalhanacle Stephens Rectore Eccl. de Drayton, et Edwardo Farmer, Clericis, vigore conimis. sionis, &c. *

The only work our author executed was that now reprinted, which probably was the principal employment of his life. Dr. Ferriar says, it was originally published in the year 1617; but this is evidently a mistake;* the first edition was that printed in 4to, 1621, a copy of which is at present in the collection of John Nichols, Esq., the indefatigable illustrator of the Histoiy of Leicrstershire ; to whom, and to Isaac Reed, Esq., of Staple Inn, this account is greatly indebted for its accuracy. The other impressions of it were in 1624, 1628, 1632, l*'3s', 1651-2, 1660, and 1676, which last, in the titlepage, is called the eighth editu n.

The copy from which the present is re-printed, is that of 1651-2: at the con- clusion of which is the following address :


" BE pleased to know (Courteous Reader) that since the last Impression of this Book, the ingenuous Author of it is deceased, leaving a Copy of it exactly corrected, with several consider- able Additions by his own hand ; this Copy he committed to my care and custody, with directions to have those Additions inserted in the next Edition ; which in order to his command, and the Publicke Good, is faithfully performed in this last Impression."

H. C. (;". e. HEN. CRIFFS.)

•Originating, perhaps, in a note, p. 448, 6th edit. (p. 455 of the present), in which a book is quoted a? having oeen " printed at Paris I'B24, seven years after Burton's first edition." As, however, the editions after that of 1621, are regularly marked in succession to the eighth, printed in 1676, there seems very little reason n dr)uhi that, in the note ahnve alluded to, either 1624 has been a misprint for 1628, or seven yewrs for thrtt yeaii ''"be lumcrous typographical errata in other parts of the work strongly aid this latter supposition.

Account of the Author. \x

The following testimonies of various authors will serve to show the estimation ill which this work has been held :

"The Anatomy of Mklancholt, wherein the author hath piled up variety of much exceller learning. Scarce any booli of philology in our land hath, in so short a time, passed so many editions." Fuller^ s Worthies, fol. 16.

" 'Tis a book so full of variety of reading, that gentlemen who have lost their time, and are put to a push for invention, may furnish themselves with matter for common or scholastical discourse and writing." Wood's Atheiias Oxoiiiensis, vol. i. p. 028. 2d edit.

"If you never saw Butitox upox Melancholt, printed 167(5, I pray look into it, and read the ninth page of his Preface, Democritus to the Reader.' There is something there which touches the point we are upon ; but I mention the author to you, as the pleasantest, the most learned, and the most full of sterling sense. The wits of Queen Anne's reign, and the beginning of George the First, were not a little beholden to him." Archbishop Herring's Letters, 12mo 1777. p. 149.

•'Bdhtox's Anatomy of Melancholy, he (Dr. Johnson) said, was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise." Bosivell's Life of Johnson, vol. i. p. 580. 8vo. edit.

« Buhton's Anatomy of Melancholy is a valuable book," said Dr. Johnson. " It is, pe-- haps, overloaded with quotation. But there is great spirit and great power in what Burton says when he writes from his own mind." Ibid, vol, ii. p. 325.

"It will be no detraction from the powers of Milton's original genius and invention, to remark, that he seems to have borrowed the subject of L' Allegro and // Penserosn, together with sonje particular thoughts, expressions, and rhymes, more especially the idea of a contrast between thefee two dispositions, from a forgotten poem prefixed to the first edition of Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, entitled, 'The Author's Abstract of Melancholy; or, A Dialogue between Pleasure and Pain.' Here pain is melancholy. It was written, as I conjecture, about the year 1600. I will make no apology for abstracting and citing as much of this poem as will be sufficient to prove, to a discerning reader, how far it had taken possession of Milton's mind. The measure will appear to be the same ; and that our author was at least an attentive reader of Burton's bo ik, may be already concluded from the traces of resemblance which I have incidentally noticed in passing through the L' Allegro and II Penseroso." After extracting the lines, Mr. Warton adds, " as to the very elaborate work to which these visionary verses are no unsuitable introduction, the writer's variety of learning, his quotations from scarce and curious books, his pedantry sparkling with rude wit and shapeless elegance, miscellaneous matter, intermixture of agreeable tnles and illustiations, and, perhaps, above all, the singularities of his feelings, clothed in an uncommon quaintness of style, have contributed to render it, even to modern readers, a valuable I'ipository of amusement and information." Warto7i's Milton, 2d edit. p. 94.

" The Anatomy or Melancholy is a book whicti has been univprsany read ai d admired. This work is, for the most part, what the autnor hin.self styles it, 'a cento; L.-j. it is a verv ingenious onr , His quotations, which abound in every page, are pertinent ; cut if had made more use of his invention and less of his commonplace-book, his work would pe;haps have been more valuable than it is. He is generally free from the affected language and ridicuiou metaphors which disgrace most of the books of his time." Granger's Biographical History.

"Burton's Anatomy or Melancholy, a book once the favourite of the learned and the witty, and a source of surreptitious learning, though written on a regular plan, cons)?*-, chiefly af quotations: the author has honestly termed it a cento. He collects, under every divih\n, the ^p^nions of a multitude of writers, without regard to chronological order, and has too oIjh the modesty to decline the interposition of his own sentiments. Indeed the bulk of his m xfe/ials generally overwhelms him. In the course of his folio he has contrived to treat a great va-i'^ty of topics, that seem very loosely connected with the general subject: and, like Bayle, when lie starts a favourite train of quotations, he does not scruple to let the digression outrun the princ'pfl question. Thus, from the doctrines of religion to military discipline, from inland navigation to the morality of dancing-schools, every thing is discussed and determined." Ferriar's Illustraiicnt of Sterne, p. 58. 2

X Account of the Author.

' The archness which Bdhtox displays occasionally, and his indulgence of playful digression* from the most serious discussions, often give his style an air of familiar conversation, notwith- standing the labonous collections which supply his text. He was capable of writing excelleni poetry, but he seems to have cultivated this talent loo little. The English verses prefixed to his book, which possess beautiful imagery, and great sweetness of versification, have been frequently published. His Latin elegiac verses addressed to his book, shew a very agreeable turn for raillery." Ibid. p. 58.

" When the force of the subject opens his own vein of prose, we" discover valuable sense and brilliant expression. Such is his account of the first feelings of melancholy persons, written, probably, from his own experience." [See p. 1.54, of the present edition.] Ibid. p. 60.

"During a pedantic age, like that in which BanTorr's production appeared, it must have been emrnently serviceable to writers of many descriptions. Hence the unlearned might furnish them- eelves with ajipropriate scraps of Greek and Latin, whilst men of letters would find their emiuiries shortened, by knowing where they might look for what both ancients and moderns had advaneco on the subject of human passions. I confess my inability to point out any other English authoi who has so largely dealt in apt and original quotation." Mnmiscript note of the lute Geurgt Sieevene, E}'/., in his copy of The Amtomy of Melancholt.



Vade libur, qualis, non ausim dicere, fcelix,

Te nisi ioeiicem fecerit Alma dies. Vade tamen quocunque lubet, quascunque per oras,

Et Genium Domini fac imitere tui. \ blandas inter Charites, mystamque saluta

Musarum quemvis, si tibi lector erit. Rura colas, urbem, subeasve palatia regum,

Submisse, placide, te sine dente geras. Nobilis, aut si quis te forte inspexerit heros,

Da te morigerum, perlegat usque lubet. Est quod Nobilitas, est quod desideret heros,

Gratior haec forsan charta placere potest. Si quis morosus Cato, tetricusque Senator,

Hunc etiam librum forte videre velit, Sive magistratus, turn te reverenter habeto ;

Sed nuUus; muscas non capiunt Aquilae. Non vacat his tempus fugitivum impendere nugis.

Nee tales cupio ; par mihi lector erit. Si matrona gravis casu diverterit istuc,

Illustris domina, aut te Comitissa legal : Est quod displiceat, placeat quod forsitan illis,

Ingerere his noli te modo, pande tamen. At si virgo tuas dignabitur inclyta chartas

Tangere, sive schedis haereat ilia tuis: Da modo te facilem, et qusedam folia esse me- mento

Conveniant oculis quae magis apta suis. Si generosa ancilla tuos aut alma puella

Visura est ludos, annue, pande lubena. Die utinam nunc ipse mens* (nam diligit istas)

In praesens esset conspiciendus herus. Ignotus notusve mihi de gente togata

Sive aget in ludis, pulpita sive colet, Sive in Lycoeo, et nugas evolverit istas.

Si quasdam mendas viderit inspiciens, Da veniam Authori, dices ; nam plurima vellet

Expungi, quae jam displicuisse sciat. Sive Melancholicus quisquam, seu blandus Amator,

Aulicus aut Civis, seu bene comptus Eques Hue appellat, age et tuto te crede legenti,

Multa istic forsan non male nata leget. Quod fugiat, caveat, quodque amplexabitur, ista

Pagina fortassis promere multa potest. At si quis Medicus coram te sistet, amice

Fac circumspecte, et te sine labe geras:

Inveniot namque ipse meis quoque plunmi scriptis,

Non leve subsidium quae sibi forsan erunt. Si quis Causidicus chartas impingat in istas,

Nil mihi vobiscum, pessima turba vale ; Sit nisi vir bonus, et juris sine fraude peritus,

Turn legat, et forsan doctior inde siet. Si quis cordatus, facilis, lectorque benignus

Hue oculos vertat, quae velit ipse legat ; Candidus ignoscet, metuas nil, pande libenter,

OfJ'ensus mendis non erit iile tuis, Laudabit nonnuUa. Venit si Rhetor ineptus,

Limata et tersa, et qui benn cocta petit, Claude citus librum ; nulla hie nisi ferrea verba,

Ofi'endent stomachum quae minus apta suum. At si quis non eximius de plebe poeta,

Annue ; namque istic plurima licta leget. Nos sumus e numero, nuUus mihi spirat Apollo,

Grandiloquus Vates quilibet esse nequit. Si Criticus Lector, tumidus Censorque molestus,

Zoilus et Momus, si rabiosa cohors : Ringe, freme, et noli turn pandere, turba ma- lignis

Si occurrat sannis invidiosa suis : Fac fugias ; si nulla tibi sit copia eundi,

Contemnes, tacite scommata quaeque feres. Frendeat, allatret, vacuas gannitibus auras .

Impleat, haud cures ; his placuisse nefas. Verum age si forsan divertat purior hospes,

Cuique sales, ludi, displiceantque joci, Objiciatque tibi sordes, lascivaque : dices,

Lasciva est Domino et Musa jocosa tuo. Nee lasciva tamen, si pensitet omne ; sed esto ;

Sit lasciva licet pagina, vita proba est. Barbarus, indoctiisque rudis spectator in istam

Si messem intrudat, fuste fugabis eum, Fungum pelle procul (jubeo) nam quid mihi fungo ?

Conveniunt stomacho non minus ista suo. Sed nee pelle tamen ; laeto omnes accipe vultn,

Quos, quas, vel quales, inde vel unde viros. Gratus erit quicunque venit, gratissimus hospeii

Quisquis erit, facilis difficilisque mihi. Nam si culparit, quaedam culpasse juvabit,

Culpando faciet me meliora sequi. Sed si laudarit, neque laudibus efferar ullis,

Sit satis hisce mails opposuisse bonum. Haec sunt quae nostro placuit mandare libello,

Et quce dimittens dicere jussit Hems.

* Hsc comics dicta ci^ve ne malA capias.




»o forth my book mio the open day ;

Happy, if made so by its garish eye. D'er earth's wide surface taiic thy vagrant way,

To imitate thy master's genius try. The Graces three, the Muses nine salute,

Should those who love them try to con thy lore. The country, city seek, grand thrones to boot,

With gentle courtesy humbly bow before. Should nobles gallant, soldiers frank and brave

Seek thy acquaintance, hail their first advance : From twitch of care thy pleasant vein may save,

May laughter cause or wisdom give perchance. Some surly Cato, Senator austere.

Haply may wish to peep into thy book: Seem very nothing tremble and revere :

No forceful eagles, butterflies e'er look. rhey love not thee : of them then little seek,

And wish for readers triflers like thyself. Of ludeful matron watchful catch the beck.

Or gorgeous countess full of pride and pelf. They may say " pish !" and frown, and yet read jn :

Cry odd, and silly, coarse, and yet amusing, uld dainty damsels seek thy page to con,

Sp-ead thy best stores: to them be ne'er re- fusing : Say, fair one, master loves thee dear as life ;

Would he were here to gaze on thy sweet look. Should known or unknown student, freed from strife

Of logic and the schools, explore my book : Cry mercy critic, and thy book withhold:

Be some few errors pardon' d though observ'd : An humble auth.or to implore makes bold.

Thy kind indulgence, even undeserv'd. Should melancholy wight or pensive lover.

Courtier, snug cit, or carpet knight so trim Our blossoms cull, he'll find himself in clover.

Gain sense from precept, laughter from our whim. Should learned leech with solemn air unfold

Thy leaves, beware, be civil, and be wise: Thy volume many precepts sage may hold.

His well fraught head may find no trifling prize. 'Should crafty lawyer trespass on our ground.

Caitiffs avaunt ! disturbing tribe away ! L'^nless (white crow) an honest one be found ;

He'll better, wiser go for what we say. ''hould some ripe scholar, gentle and benign,

With candour, care, and judgment thee peruse:

Thy faults to kind oblivion he'll consign ;

Nor to thy merit will his praise refuse. Thou may'st be searched for polish' d words and verse

By flippant spouter, emptiest of praters : Tell him to seek them in some mawkish verse :

My periods all are rough as nutmeg graters. The doggerel poet, wishing thee to read.

Reject not ; let him glean thy jests and stories. His brother I, of lowly sembling breed :

Apollo grants to few Parnassian glories. Menac'd by critic with sour furrowed brow,

Momus or Troilus or Scotch reviewer: Ruffle your heckle, grin and growl and vow :

Ill-natured foes you thus will find the fewer. When foul-mouth'd senseless railers cry thee down.

Reply not : fly, and show the rogues thy stern : They are not worthy even of a frown :

Good taste or breeding they can ne'^er learn; Or let them clamour, turn a callous ear.

As though in dread of some harsh donkey's bray. If chid by censor, friendly though severe.

To such explain and turn thee not away. Thy vein, says he perchance, is all too free ;

Thy smutty language suits not learned pen : Reply, Good Sir, throughout, the context see ;

Thought chastens thought ; so prithee judge again. Besides, although my master's pen may wander

Through devious paths, by which it ought not stray. His life is pure, beyond the breath of slander :

So pardon grant ; 'tis merely but his way. Some rugged ruffian makes a hideous rout

Brandish thy cudgel, threaten him to baste ; The filthy fungus far from thee cast out ;

Such noxious banquets never suit my taste. Yet, calm and cautious moderate thy ire,

Be ever courteous should the case allow Sweet malt is ever made by gentle fire :

Warm to thy friends, give all a civil bow. Even censure sometimes teaches to improve,

Slight frosts have often cured too rank a crop, So, candid blame my spleen shall never move.

For skilful gard'ners wayward branches lop. Go then, my book, and bear my words in mind Guides safe at once, and pleasant thein you'll find.



Ten distinct Squares here seen apart, Are joined in one by Cutter's art.

Old Democritus under a tree, Sits on a stone with booii on knee; About him hang there many features, Of Cats, Dogs and such like creatures, Of which he makes anatomy. The seat of black choler to see. Over his head appears the sky. And Saturn Lord of melancholy.

To the left a landscape of Jealousy, Presents itself unto thine eye. A Kingfisher, a Swan, an Hern, Two fighting-cocks you may discern, Two roaring Bulls each other hie, To assault concerning venery. Symbols are these ; I say no more, Conceive the rest by that's afore.

The next of solitariness,

A portraiture doth well express.

By sleeping dog, cat : Buck and Doe,

Hares, Conies in the desert go :

Bats, Owls the shady bowers over.

In melancholy darkness hover.

Mark well : If 't be not as 't should be,

Blame the bad Cutter, and not me.

I'th' under column there doth stand

Inamorato with folded hand;

Down hangs his head, terse and polite,

Some ditty sure he doth indite.

His lute and books about him lie,

As symptoms of his vanity.

If this do not enough disclose.

To paint him, take thyself by th' nose.

Hypocondriacus leans on his arm. Wind in his side doth him much harm, And troubles him full sore, God knows. Much ^ain h? hath and many woes. About him pots and glasses lie. Newly brought from's Apothecary. This Saturn's aspects signify. You see them portray'd in the sky.

Beneath them kneeling on his knee A superstitious man you see : He fasts, prays, on his Idol fixt. Tormented hope and fear betwixt : For Hell perhaps he takes more pain, Than thou dost Heaven hself to gain Alas poor soul, I pity thee. What stars incline thee so to be ?

But see the madman rage downright With furious looks, a ghastly sight. Naked in chains bound doth he lie. And roars amain he knows not why ' Observe him ; for as in a glass. Thine angry portraiture it was. His picture keeps still in thy presence; 'Twixt him and thee, there's no differencs


Borage and Hellebor fill two scenes, ^^,; Sovereign plants to purge the veins Of melancholy, and cheer the heart. Of those black fumes which make it smart To clear the brain of misty fogs. Which dull our senses, and Soul clogs. The best medicine that e'er God made For this malady, if well assay'd.

Now last of all to fill a place. Presented is the Author's iace ( And in that habit which he wears. His image to the world appears. His mind no art can well express. That by his writings you may guess. It was not pride, nor yet vain glory, (Though others do it commonly) Made him do this : if you must know The Printer would needs have it so. Then do not frown or scoff at it, Deride not, or detract a whit. For surely as thou dost by him, He will do the same again. Then look upon't, behold and see, As thou lik'st it, so it likes thee. And I for it will stand in view. Thine to command. Reader, adieu.



CWhen I go musing all alone Thinking of divers things fore-known. When I build castles in the air, Void of sorrow and void of fear, Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet, Methinks the time runs very fleet. All my joys to this are folly. Naught so sweet as melancholy. When I lie waking all alone. Recounting what I have ill done, My thoughts on me then tyrannise, Fear and sorrow me surprise, Whether I tarry still or go, Methinks the time moves very slow. All my griefs to this are jolly. Naught so mad as melancholy. When to myself I act and smile. With pleasing thoughts the time beguile. By a brook side or wood so green, Unheard, unsought for, or unseen, A thousand pleasures do me bless. And crown my soul with happiness. All my joys besides are folly, None so sweet as melancholy. When I lie, sit, or walk alone, I sigh, I grieve, making great mone. In a dark grove, or irksome den, With discontents and. Furies then, A thousand miseries at once Mine heavy heart and soul ensonce. All my griefs to this are jolly, None so sour as melancholy. Methinks I hear, methinks I see, Sweet music, wondrous melody, Tqiwns, palaces, and cities fine; Here now, then there ; the world is mine. Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine, Whate'er is lovely or divine. All other joys to this are folly. None so sweet as melancholy. Methinks I hear, methinks I see Ghosts, goblins, fiends ; my phantasy Presents a thousand ugly shapes, [leadless bears, black men, and apes. Doleful outcries, and fearful sights, My sad and dismal soul aflrights. All my griefs to this are jolly. None 30 damn'd as melancholy.

Methinks I court, methinks I kiss, Methinks I now embrace my mistress.

0 blessed days, O sweet content. In Paradise my time is spent.

Such thoughts may still my fancy move; So may I ever be in love. All my joys to this are folly. Naught so sweet as melancholy. When I recount love's many frights. My sighs and tears, my waking nights, My jealous fits ; O mine hard fate

1 now repent, but 'tis too late. No torment is so bad as love. So bitter to my soul can prove.

All my griefs to this are jolly, Naught so harsh as melancholy. Friends and companions get you gone. 'Tis my desire to be alone ; Ne'er well but when my thoughts and 1 Do domineer in privacy. No Gem, no treasure like to this, 'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss. All my joys to this are folly. Naught so sweet as melancholy. 'Tis my sole plague to be alone, I am a beast, a monster grown, I will no light nor company, I find it now my misery. The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone. Fear, discontent, and sorrows come. All my griefs to this are jolly. Naught so fierce as melancholy. I'll not change life with any king, I ravisht am: can the world bring More joy, than still to laugh and smile, In pleasant toys time to beguile ? Do not, O do not trouble me. So sweet content I feel and see. All my joys to this are folly. None so divine as melancholy. I'll change my state with any wretch, Thou canst from gaol or dunghill fetch My pain's past cure, another hell, I may not in this torment dwell ! Now desperate I hate my life, ^end me a halter or a knife ; All my griefs to this are jolly. Naught so damn'd as melancholy.




(^ ENTLE reader. I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what antic or 1 personate actor this is, that so insolently intrudes upon this common theatre, to the world's view, arrogating another man's name; whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say; altliough, as 'he said, Primum si noluero, non rcspondebo^ quis coact.unis est? I am a free man born, and may choose whether I will tell; who can compel me? If I be urged, 1 will as readily reply as that Egyptian in ^Plutarch, when a curious fellow would needs know what he had in his basket, Quum vides velatam, quid inquiris in rem abscondlfam? It was therefore covered, because he should not know what was in it. Seek not after that which is hid; if the contents please thee, ^and be for thy use, suppose the Man in the Moon, or whom thou wilt to be the Author;" 1 would not willingly be known. Yet in some sort to give thee satisfac- tion, which is more than I need, 1 will show a reason, both of tliis usurped name, title, and subject. And first of the name of Democritus; lest any man, by reason of it, should be deceived, expecting a pasquil, a satire, some