and long contests
about the superiority: for so it happens to places, as well as men, that
increase in power; insomuch as the two most flourishing Universities in
the world (to both of which I bear the relation of a son, though I am
more peculiarly obliged to one of them for my education),
notwithstanding they are sisters, could not abstain from so ungrateful a
contention.

Artopolis boasted of its antiquity, and that it had flourished in the
Saturnian age, when it had as yet no rival. Creatium set forth its own
splendour, pleasantness, and power. At last, a council being called,
Creatium got the preference by the universal votes of the assembly; for
such is the iniquity of the times, that though the head be covered with
grey hairs, yet nothing is allowed to the reverence of antiquity, when
encountered by a proud and upstart novelty. The other city is now so far
neglected, that the ruins or footsteps of its magnificence are scarce
remaining, any more than of Verulam, as is most elegantly set forth by
our noble poet Spenser in his verses on that subject; the latter
usurping the name of the other, as well as the other has now the double
title of Artocreopolis. The city is more extensive than beautiful: it is
fortified with a large and deep ditch of running water, which washes
almost all the streets, wherein are a thousand several ponds for fish;
upon which swim ducks, geese, swans, and all sorts of water-fowl, which
has been wisely imitated by the people of Augsburg. This ditch is called
Gruessa. There are two walls, whose materials were furnished by the
flesh-market; for they are made of bones, the larger serving for the
foundations, the lesser for the superstructure, whilst the smallest fill
up what is wanting in the middle; being all cemented with the whites of
eggs, by a wonderful artifice. The houses are not very beautiful, nor
built high after the manner of other cities; so that there is no need of
an Augustus to restrain the buildings to the height of seventy feet, as
was done at Rome; nor is there room for a Seneca or Juvenal to complain
of the multitude of their stairs and number of their stories.

They have no regard for staircases; for indeed none of the citizens care
for them, partly from the trouble of getting up them (especially when,
as they often do, they have drunk heartily) as much as for the danger of
getting down again. Their houses are all covered with large blade-bones,
very neatly joined together.