at the title of this book will
offend the delicate ears of a great many, and make them say, that no
vice ever wanted its advocate, _Nullo vitio unquam defuit advocatus_; I
am not, perhaps, less exposed on the other to the criticisms of as many
folks, who will probably apply to me that which was said heretofore to
one in Lacedemonia, who had a mind to make an encomium on Hercules, viz.
Who ever blamed Hercules?

Quis Herculem vituperavit?

However, though I should have no readers at all, yet am I resolved to
continue my discourse at the hazard, in some manner, of imitating Pyrrho
the philosopher, who one day, as he was haranguing the people, seeing
himself abandoned by all his auditors, pursued very magnanimously his
declamation to the end. To enter, therefore, upon the present subject,
I lay down this as my first position, viz. That it is lawful to get
drunk sometimes. Which I prove thus:--

Sadness is in the highest degree prejudicial to health, and causes
abundance of distempers. There is no one ignorant of this truth. Joy
(or mirth) on the contrary, prevents and forces them away. It is, as the
Arabians say, the flower and spirit of a brisk and lively health[1]. Let
us run over, and examine all the different states of life, and we shall
be forced to own, that there is not one of them all but what is subject
to chagrin and sadness; and, consequently, that joy, or mirth, is most
necessary to men. Which very probably the philosopher had in his head,
when he defined man a risible animal. But be that as it will, one must
certainly look upon that maxim which recommends mingling of pleasures
with the affairs of life as a very wise one.

Sometimes with mirth and pleasure lard your cares[2].

We shall confirm this precept by a beautiful passage out of Seneca,
whose writings most certainly contain no loose morality, and which is as
follows:-- "The soul must not be always bent: one must sometimes allow
it a little pleasure. Socrates was not ashamed to pass the time with
children. Cato enjoyed himself in drinking plentifully, when his mind
had been too much wearied out in public affairs. Scipio knew very well
how to move that body, so much inured to wars and triumphs, without
breaking it, as some now-a-days do, with more than womanly pleasures;
but as people did in past times, who would make themselves merry on
their festivals, by leading a dance really worthy men of those days,
whence could ensue no reproach, when even