the hedge high enough." There is the story of the young man,
whose mother told him to throw sheep's eyes at his sweetheart, and who,
literally, performed her bidding. One Good Friday the Men of Gotham
consulted what to do with their red herrings, and other salt fish, and
agreed to cart them into a pond that the number might increase next
year. At the beginning of the next summer they drag the pond, and only
find a great eel. "A mischief on him," they say, "he hath eaten up our
fish." Some propose to chop him in pieces, but the rest think it would
be best to drown him, so they throw him into another pond. Twelve men of
Gotham go to fish, and some stand on dry land, and some in the water.
And one says "We have ventured wonderfully in wading; I pray that none
of us come home drowned." So they begin to count, and as each omits
himself he can only count eleven, and so they go back to the water, and
make great lamentation. A courtier, who meets them, convinces them of
their mistake by laying his whip on each of them, who calls out in turn
"Here's one," until twelve are counted. The minister of Gotham preaches
that men should not drink in Lent. A man, who comes for absolution, and
confesses to having been drunk in Lent, replies that fish should swim.
"Yes," returns the priest, "but in water." "I cannot enjoin your
prayer," he adds, "for you cannot say your Paternoster. It is folly to
make you fast because you never get meat. Labour hard, and get a dinner
on Sunday, and I will come and dine with you."

CHAPTER VII.

Jesters--Court of Queen Elizabeth--James I.--The "Counterblasts to
Tobacco"--Puritans--Charles
II.--Rochester--Buckingham--Dryden--Butler.

Professed fools seem to have been highly appreciated in the time of
Shakespeare. They do not correspond to our modern idea of a fool,
because there was intention in their actions, and yet we could not have
considered them to be really sensible men. Nor had they great talent,
their gifts being generally lower than those of our professed wits.

Addison observes that, "when a man of wit makes us laugh, it is by
betraying some oddness or infirmity in his own character," and at the
present day, not only do those who indulge much in humour often say
things approaching nonsense, and make themselves in other ways
ridiculous, but their object, being entirely idle diversion and
pleasantry, appears foolish and puerile. Those who cultivate humour are
not generally to be comp