f Memory's mouth_ is the correct reading, although the
pronoun has been always omitted. Anamnestes is comparing his situation
with that of Mendacio.--_Collier_.

[242] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 296.]

[243] [Another name of Jupiter.]

[244] [Edits., _belly_.]

[245] Chess.

[246] A favourite game formerly, and apparently one of the oldest in
use. The manner in which it was played will appear from the following
epigram of Sir John Harington, the translator of Ariosto--

_The Story of Marcus's Life at Primero_.

"Fond Marcus ever at _Primero_ playes,
Long winter nights, and as long summer dayes:
And I heard once to idle talke attending
The story of his times and coins mis-spending
At first, he thought himselfe halfe way to heaven,
If in his hand he had but got a sev'n.
His father's death set him so high on flote,
All rests went up upon a sev'n and coate.
But while he drawes from these grey coats and gownes,
The gamesters from his purse drew all his crownes.
And he ne'er ceast to venter all in prime,
Till of his age, quite was consum'd the prime.
Then he more warily his rest regards,
And sets with certainties upon the cards,
On sixe and thirtie, or on sev'n and nine,
If any set his rest, and saith, and mine:
But seed with this, he either gaines or saves,
For either Faustus prime is with three knaves,
Or Marcus never can encounter right,
Yet drew two Ases, and for further spight
Had colour for it with a hopeful draught
But not encountred, it avail'd him naught.
Well, sith encountring, he so faire doth misse,
He sets not, till he nine and fortie is.
And thinking now his rest would sure be doubled,
He lost it by the hand, with which sore troubled,
He joynes now all his stocke unto his stake,
That of his fortune he full proofe may make.
At last both eldest hand and five and fifty,
He thinketh now or never (thrive unthrifty.)
Now for the greatest rest he hath the push:
But Crassus stopt a club, and so was flush:
And thus what with the stop, and with the packe,
Poore Marcus and his rest goes still to wracke.
Now must he seek new spoile to rest his rest,
For here his seeds turne weeds, his rest, unrest.
His land, his plate he pawnes, he sels his leases,
To patch, to borrow, and shift he never ceases.
Till at the last two catch-pole