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ADVERTISEMENT.

THE work now restored to public notice has had an extraordinary fate. At the time of its original publication it obtained a great celebrity, which continued more than half a century. During that period fere books were more read, or more deservedly applauded. It was the delight of the learned, the solace of the indolent, and the refuge of the uninformed. It past through at least eight editions, by which the bookseller, as Wood records, got an estate ; and, notwithstanding the objections sometimes opposed against it, of a quaint style, and too great an accumulation of authorities, the facination of its wit, fancy, and sterling sense, have borne down all censures, and extorted praise from the first writers in the English language. The great JOHNSON has praised it in the warmest terms, and the ludicrous STERNE has interwoven many parts of it into his own popular performance. Milton did not disdain to build two of his finest poems on it; and a host of inferior writers have embellished their works with beauties not their own, culled from a performance which they had not the justice even to mention. Change of times, and the frivolity of fashion, suspended, in some degree, that fame which had lasted near a century; and the succeeding generation affected indifference towards an author, who at length was only looked into by the plunderers of literature, the poachers in obscure volumes. The plagiarisms of Tristram Shandy, so successfully brought to light by Dr. FERRIAR, at length drew the attention of the public towards a writer, who, though then little known, might without impeachment of modesty lay claim to every mark of respect; and inquiry proved, beyond a doubt, that the calls of justice had been little attended to by others, as well as the facetious Yorick. Wood observed, more than a century ago, that several authors had unmercifully stolen matter from BURTON without any acknowledgement. The time, however, at length arrived, when the merits of the “ Anatomy of Melancholy" were to receive their due praise. The book was again sought for and read, and again it became an applauded performance. Its excellencies once more stood confest, in the increased price which every copy offered for sale produced ; and the increased demand pointed out the necessity of a new edition. This is now presented to the public in a manner not disgraceful to the memory of the author; and the undertakers of it rely with confidence, that so valuable a repository of amusement and information will continue to hold the rank it has been restored io, firmly supported by its own merit, and safe from the influence and blight of any future caprices of fashion.

TEN distinct Squares here seen 6. Beneath them kneeling on his apart,

knee, Are joyn'd in one by Cutter's art. A superstitious man you see: 1. Old Democritus under a tree,

He fasts, prays, on his idol fixt, Sits on a stone with book on knee;

Tormented hope and feare betwixt; About him hang there many fea- For hell perhaps he takes more pain, tures

Then thou dost heaven itself to gain. Of cats, dogs, and such like creatures, Alas poor soule, I pitie thee, Of which he makes anatomy,

What stars incline thee so to be? The seat of black choler to see. 7. But see the madman

rage downOver his head appears the skie,

right And Saturn Lord of melancholy. With furious looks, a ghastly sight! 2. To the left a landscape of Jea- Naked in chains bound doth he lie lousie,

And roars amain he knows not why! Presents itself unto thine eye.

Observe him; for as in a glass, A kingfisher, a swan, an hern,

Thine angry portraiture it was. Two fighting-cocks you may discern, His picture keep still in thy pre

sence; Two roaring bulls each other hie, To assault concerning venery.

Twixt him and thee there's no dif.

ference. Symboles are these ; I say no more, Conceive the rest by that's afore. 8. 9. Borage and shellebor fill two 3. The next of solitariness,

scenes, A portraiture doth well express,

Soveraign plants to purge the veins By sleeping dog, cat ; buck and do, of melancholy, and chear the heart

Of those black fumes which make it Hares, conies in the desart go: Bats, owls the shady bowers over,

smart;

To clear the brain of misty fogs, In melancholy darkness hover. Mark well: If't be not as't

should be, Which (dull our senses, and soule Blame the bad Cutter, and not me.

clogs.

The best medicine that ere God 4. Ith' under column there doth made stand

For this malady, if wellfassaid. Inamorato with folded hand; Down hangs his head, terse and po- Presented is the Author's face;

10. Now last of all to fill a place, lite,

And in that habit which he wears, Some dittie sure he doth indite.

His image to the world appears, His lute and books about him lie,

His minde no art can well express, As symptomes of his vanity.

That by his writings you may guess. If this do not enough disclose, To paint him, take thyself by th' It was not pride, nor yet vain glory,