had set out a witless pamphlet, writing finis at the end thereof, another wittily wrote beneath it,

Nay there thou liest, my friend,

In writing foolish books there is no end.

And surely such scurrilous scandalous papers do more than conceivable mischief. First, their lusciousness puts many palates out of taste, that they can never after relish any solid and wholesome writers; secondly, they cast dirt on the faces of many innocent persons, which dried on by continuance of time can never after be washed off; thirdly, the pamphlets of this age may pass for records with the next, because publicly uncontrolled, and what we laugh at, our children may believe: fourthly, grant the things true they jeer at, yet this music is unlawful in any Christian church, to play upon the sins and miseries of others, the fitter object of the elegies than the satires of all truly religious.

But what do I speaking against multiplicity of books in this age, who trespass in this nature myself? What was a learned man's compliment, may serve for my confession and conclusion: Multi mei similes hoc morbo laborant, ut cum scribere nesciant tamen a scribendo temperare non possint.1

1 Many of my fellows are afflicted with this disease, who, though they know not how to write, are yet unable to refrain from writing.ERASMUS, Preface to the Works of Jerome, Series 3, vol. IV, p. 408 (Fuller's reference).

ROBERT BURTON

(Selections from the Anatomy of Melancholy)

[Aside from such features as the use of capitals, spelling, and punctuation, the editor has not thought it best to take any liberties with Burton's text. Το omit all the Latin, as is done in a recent selection of "The Anatomy of Melancholy," certainly simplifies the reading, but it gives an erroneous impression of Burton's character and style. Those who would learn to enjoy that eccentric humorist to the full must take him with all his peculiarities. The editor has provided translations, in the footnotes, for those passages which are not rendered by the author himself, either literally or as to their substantial meaning. Burton's racy

English paraphrases of his Latin tags are often of the essence of the scholar's fun. The editor hopes to be pardoned, however, for omitting the overflow of learned references and Latin quotation with which Burton has liberally garnished his margins. They will not be missed by readers who are interested only in the literary flavor of the "Anatomy."]

[ALL MEN ARE MELANCHOLY]

(From Democritus Junior to the Reader)

THAT which is more to be lamented, they are mad like Seneca's blind woman, and will not acknowledge, or seek for any cure of it, for pauci vident morbum 1 Epistles, 50, 2.

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suum, omnes amant.1 If our leg or arm offend us, we covet by all means possible to redress it; and if we labor of a bodily disease, we send for a physician; but for the diseases of the mind, we take no notice of them. Lust harrows us on the one side; envy, anger, ambition, on the other. We are torn in pieces by our passions, as so many wild horses, one in disposition, another in habit; one is melancholy, another mad; and which of us all seeks for help, doth acknowledge his error, or knows he is sick? As that stupid fellow put out the candle because the biting fleas should not find him; he shrouds himself in an unknown habit, borrowed titles, because nobody should discern him. Every man thinks with himself, Egomet videor mihi sanus, I am well, I am wise, and laughs at others. And 'tis a general fault amongst them all, that which our forefathers have approved, diet, apparel, opinions, humors, customs, manners, we deride and reject in our time as absurd. Old men account juniors all fools, when they are mere dizzards; and as to sailors-terrae urbesque recedunt 3they move, the land stands still; the world hath much more wit, they dote themselves. Turks deride us, we them; Italians Frenchmen, accounting them lightheaded fellows, the French scoff again at Italians, and at their several customs; Greeks have condemned all the world but themselves of barbarism, the world as much vilifies them now; we account Germans heavy, dull fellows, explode many of their fashions; they as contemptibly think of us; Spaniards laugh at all, and all again at them. So are we fools and ridiculous, absurd in our actions, carriages, diet, apparel, customs, and consultations; we scoff and point one at another, 1 Few see their disease, all love it. 2 HORACE, Satires, II, iii, 302. VIRGIL, Aeneid, III, 72.

when as in conclusion all are fools, "and they the veriest asses that hide their ears most.' A private man if he be resolved with himself, or set on an opinion, account all idiots and asses that are not affected as he is, nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducit1-that are not so minded (quodque volunt homines se bene velle putant)2 all fools that think not as he doth. He will not say with Atticus, Suam cuique sponsam, mihi meam,3 let every man enjoy his own spouse; but his alone is fair, suus amor, etc., and scorns all in respect of himself, will imitate none, hear none, but himself, as Pliny said, a law and example to himself. And that which Hippocrates, in his epistle to Dionysius, reprehended of old, is verified in our times, Quisque in alio superfluum esse censet, ipse quod non habet nec curat, that which he hath not himself or doth not esteem, he accounts superfluity, an idle quality, a mere foppery, in another: like Aesop's fox, when he lost his tail, would have all his fellow foxes cut off theirs. The Chineses say that we Europeans have one eye, they themselves two, all the world else is blind (though Scaliger accounts them brutes, too, merum pecus); so thou and thy sectaries are only wise, others indifferent, the rest beside themselves, mere idiots and asses. Thus not

acknowledging our own errors and imperfections, we securely deride others, as if we alone were free, and spectators of the rest, accounting it an excellent thing, as indeed it is, aliena optimum frui insania,5 to make ourselves merry with other men's obliquities, whenas he himself is more faulty than the rest; mutato nomine,

1 HORACE, Epistles, II, i, 83.

2 Whatsoever men wish, they think they wisely wish. CICERO Ad Atticum, XIV, 20, 3.

4 Epistles, VIII, 23.

PLINY, Natural History, XVIII, 5.

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de te fabula narratur1 he may take himself by the nose for a fool; and which one calls maximum stultitiae specimen,2 to be ridiculous to others, and not to perceive or take notice of it, as Marsyas was when he contended with Apollo, non intelligens se deridiculo haberi, saith Apuleius; 'tis his own cause, he is a convict madman, as Austin well infers, "in the eyes of wise men and angels he seems like one that to our thinking walks with his heels upward." So thou laughest at me, and I at thee, both at a third; and he returns that of the poet upon us again: Hei mihi, insanire me aiunt, quum ipsi ultro insaniant.5 We accuse others of madness, of folly, and are the veriest dizzards ourselves. For it is a great sign and property of a fool (which Ecclesiastes x:3, points at) out of pride and self-conceit to insult, vilify, condemn, censure, and call other men fools (Non videmus mantica quod a tergo est) to tax that in others of which we are most faulty, teach that which we follow not ourselves. For an inconstant man to write of constancy, a profane liver prescribe rules of sanctity and piety, a dizzard himself make a treatise of wisdom, or with Sallust to rail downright at spoilers of countries and yet in office to be a most grievous poller himself: this argues weakness, and is an evident sign of such parties' indiscretion. Peccat uter nostrum cruce dignius?" "Who is the fool now?" Or else peradventure in some places we are all mad for company, and

1 The name is changed, but the story points to you. HORACE, Satires, I, i, 69.

2 The greatest evidence of stupidity.

3 Florid., I, 3, 2.

4 City of God, XIV, 9.

5 Alas, they say I am mad, when it is they themselves who have lost their wits.-PLAUTUS, Menæchmi, 962.

We do not see the part of the bag which hangs at our back.— CATULLUS, XXII, 21.

'HORACE, Satires, II, vii, 47.