And thus, when a thing lyes very Abstruse, and all the rumaging of the whole House cannot find it; nay, when all the People in the House have given it over, they very often find one thing when they are looking for another.
Next you have the Retentive in the remotest part of the Place, which, like the Records in the Tower, takes Possession of all Matters, as they are removed from the Classes in the Repository, for want of room. These are carefully Lockt, and kept safe, never to be open'd but upon solemn Occasions, and have swinging great Bars and Bolts upon them; so that what is kept here, is seldom lost. Here Conscience has one large Ware-house, and the Devil another; the first is very seldom open'd, but has a Chink or Till, where all the Follies and Crimes of Life being minuted are dropt in; but as the Man seldom cares to look in, the Locks are very Rusty, and not open'd but with great Difficulty, and on extraordinary Occasions, as Sickness, Afflictions, Jails, Casualties, and Death; and then the Bars all give way at once; and being prest from within with a more than ordinary Weight, burst as a Cask of Wine upon the Fret, which for want of Vent, makes all the Hoops fly.
As for the Devil's Ware-house, he has two constant Warehouse-keepers, Pride and Conceit, and these are always at the Door, showing their Wares, and exposing the pretended Vertues and Accomplishments of the Man, by way of Ostentation.
In the middle of this curious part of Nature, there is a clear Thorough-fare, representing the World, through which so many Thousand People pass so easily, and do so little worth taking notice of, that 'tis for no manner of Signification to leave Word they have been here. Thro' this Opening pass Millions of things not worth remembring, and which the Register-Keepers, who stand at the Doors of the Classes, as they go by, take no notice of; such as Friendships, helps in Distress, Kindnesses in Affliction, Voluntary Services, and all sorts of Importunate Merit; things which being but Trifles in their own Nature, are made to be forgotten.
In another Angle is to be seen the Memory's Garden, in which her most pleasant things are not only Deposited, but Planted, Transplanted, Grafted, Inoculated, and obtain all possible Propagation and Encrease; these are the most pleasant, delightful, and agreeable things, call'd Envy, Slander, Revenge, Strife and Malice, with the Additions of Ill-turns, Reproaches, and all manner of Wrong; these are caressed in the Cabinet of the Memory, with a World of Pleasure never let pass, and carefully Cultivated with all imaginable Art.
There are multitudes of Weeds, Toys, Chat, Story, Fiction, and Lying, which in the great throng of passant Affairs, stop by the way, and crowding up the Place, leave no room for their Betters that come behind, which makes many a good Guess be put by, and left to go clear thro' for want of Entertainment.
There are a multitude of things very curious and observable, concerning this little, but very accurate thing, called Memory; but above all, I see nothing so very curious, as the wonderful Art of Wilful Forgetfulness; and as 'tis a thing, indeed, I never could find any Person compleatly Master of, it pleased me very much, to find this Author has made a large Essay, to prove there is really no such Power in Nature; and that the Pretenders to it are all Impostors, and put a Banter upon the World; for that it is impossible for any Man to oblige himself to forget a thing, since he that can remember to forget, and at the same time forget to remember, has an Art above the Devil.
In his Laboratory you see a Fancy preserv'd a la Mummy, several Thousand Years old; by examining which you may perfectly discern, how Nature makes a Poet: Another you have taken from a meer Natural, which discovers the Reasons of Nature's Negative in the Case of humane Understanding; what Deprivation of Parts She suffers, in the Composition of a Coxcomb; and with what wonderful Art She prepares a Man to be a Fool.
Here being the product of this Author's wonderful Skill, you have the Skeleton of a Wit, with all the Readings of Philosophy and Chyrurgery upon the Parts: Here you see all the Lines Nature has drawn to form a Genius, how it performs, and from what Principles.
Also you are Instructed to know the true reason of the Affinity between Poetry and Poverty; and that it is equally derived from what's Natural and Intrinsick, as from Accident and Circumstance; how the World being always full of Fools and Knaves, Wit is sure to miss of a good Market; especially, if Wit and Truth happen to come in Company; for the Fools don't understand it, and the Knaves can't bear it.
But still 'tis own'd, and is most apparent, there is something also Natural in the Case too, since there are some particular Vessels Nature thinks necessary, to the more exact Composition of this nice thing call'd a Wit, which as they are, or are not Interrupted in the peculiar Offices for which they are appointed, are subject to various Distempers, and more particularly to Effluxions and Vapour, Diliriums Giddiness of the Brain, and Lapsæ, or Looseness of the Tongue; and as these Distempers, occasion'd by the exceeding quantity of Volatiles, Nature is obliged to make use of in the Composition, are hardly to be avoided, the Disasters which generally they push the Animal into, are as necessarily consequent to them as Night is to the Setting of the Sun; and these are very many, as disobliging Parents, who have frequently in this Country whipt their Sons for making Verses; and here I could not but reflect how useful a Discipline early Correction must be to a Poet; and how easy the Town had been had N-t, E-w, T. B- P-s, D- S- D-fy, and an Hundred more of the jingling Train of our modern Rhymers, been Whipt young, very young, for Poetasting, they had never perhaps suckt in that Venome of Ribaldry, which all the Satyr of the Age has never been able to scourge out of them to this Day.
The further fatal Consequences of these unhappy Defects in Nature, where she has damn'd a Man to Wit and Rhyme, has been loss of Inheritance, Parents being aggravated by the obstinate young Beaus, resolving to be Wits in spight of Nature, the wiser Head has been obliged to Confederate with Nature, and with-hold the Birth-right of Brains, which otherwise the young Gentleman might have enjoy'd, to the great support of his Family and Posterity. Thus the famous Waller, Denham, Dryden, and sundry Others, were oblig'd to condemn their Race to Lunacy and Blockheadism, only to prevent the fatal Destruction of their Families, and entailing the Plague of Wit and Weathercocks upon their Posterity.
The yet farther Extravagancies which naturally attend the Mischief of Wit, are Beau-ism, Dogmaticality, Whimsification, Impudensity, and various kinds of Fopperosities (according to Mr. Boyl,) which issuing out of the Brain, descend into all the Faculties, and branch themselves by infinite Variety, into all the Actions of Life.
These by Conseqence, Beggar the Head, the Tail, the Purse, and the whole Man, till he becomes as poor and despicable as Negative Nature can leave him, abandon'd of his Sense, his Manners, his Modesty, and what's worse, his Money, having nothing left but his Poetry, dies in a Ditch, or a Garret, A-la-mode de Tom Brown, uttering Rhymes and Nonsence to the last Moment.
In Pity to all my unhappy Brethren, who suffer under these Inconveniencies, I cannot but leave it on Record, that they may not be reproached with being Agents of their own Misfortunes, since I assure them, Nature has form'd them with the very Necessity of acting like Coxcombs, fixt upon them by the force of Organick Consequences, and placed down at the very Original Effusion of that fatal thing call'd Wit.
Nor is the Discovery less wonderful than edifying, and no humane Art on our side the World ever found out such a Sympathetick Influence, between the Extreams of Wit and Folly, till this great Lunarian Naturalist furnisht us with such unheard-of Demonstrations.
Nor is this all I learnt from him, tho' I cannot part with this, till I have publisht a Memento Mori, and told 'em what I had discovered of Nature in these remote Parts of the World, from whence I take the Freedom