Now, _Agelastes_ (speaking dispraisingly) sayeth, That there may be some wit in it, for aught he knows----but no judgment at all. And _Triptolemus_ and _Phutatorius_ agreeing thereto, ask, How is it possible there should? for that wit and judgment in this world never go together; inasmuch as they are two operations differing from each other as wide as east from west ------So, says _Locke_----so are farting and hickuping, say I. But in answer to this, _Didius_ the great church lawyer, in his code _de fartendi et illustrandi fallaciis_, doth maintain and make fully appear, That an illustration is no argument----nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-glass clean to be a syllogism; ----but you all, may it please your worships, see the better for it------so that the main good these things do is only to clarify the understanding, previous to the application of the argument itself, in order to free it from any little motes, or specks of opacular matter, which, if left swimming therein, might hinder a conception and spoil all.
Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice able criticks, and fellow-labourers (for to you I write this Preface)------and to you, most subtle statesmen and discreet doctors (do--pull off your beards) renowned for gravity and wisdom; ----_Monopolus_, my politician-- _Didius_, my counsel; _Kysarcius_, my friend; --_Phutatorius_, my guide; ----_Gastripheres_, the preserver of my life; _Somnolentius_, the balm and repose of it----not forgetting all others, as well sleeping as waking, ecclesiastical as civil, whom for brevity, but out of no resentment to you, I lump all together. ------Believe me, right worthy,
My most zealous wish and fervent prayer in your behalf, and in my own too, in case the thing is not done already for us----is, that the great gifts and endowments both of wit and judgment, with everything which usually goes along with them------such as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence, quick parts, and what not, may this precious moment, without stint or measure, let or hindrance, be poured down warm as each of us could bear it--scum and sediment and all (for I would not have a drop lost) into the several receptacles, cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories, refectories, and spare places of our brains------in such sort, that they might continue to be injected and tunn'd into, according to the true intent and meaning of my wish, until every vessel of them, both great and small, be so replenish'd, saturated, and filled up therewith, that no more, would it save a man's life, could possibly be got either in or out.

Now, Agelastes sayeth, That there may be some wit in it, for aught he knows - but no judgment at all. And Triptolemus and Phutatorius agree, asking, How could there be? for wit and judgment in this world never go together; they differ as much as east from west - so says Locke - so do farting and hiccuping, say I. But in answer to this, Didius the great church lawyer, in De Fartendi et Illustrandi Fallaciis, maintains that an illustration is no argument - nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-glass clean to be a syllogism, but you all see the better for it - so that the main good these things do is to clarify the understanding before the argument itself, in order to free it from any little specks of dust which might hinder an idea and spoil all.
Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice able critics, and fellow-labourers (for to you I write this Preface) - and to you, most subtle statesmen and discreet doctors: Monopolus, my politician; Didius, my counsel; Kysarcius, my friend; Phutatorius, my guide; Gastripheres, the preserver of my life; Somnolentius, the balm and repose of it - not forgetting all others, whom for brevity, but out of no resentment to you, I lump all together.
My most zealous wish and fervent prayer in your behalf, and in my own too, is, that the great gifts of wit and judgment, with everything which usually goes along with them - such as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence, and what not, may this moment, without stint or measure, be poured down as warm as we could bear - scum and sediment and all - into the cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories, refectories, and spare places of our brains - until every part of them be so filled up that no more could possibly be got in.
