It grew late:  Hippocrates left him; and no sooner was he come away, but all the citizens came about flocking, to know how he liked him.  He told them in brief, that notwithstanding those small neglects of his attire, body, diet, [255]the world had not a wiser, a more learned, a more honest man, and they were much deceived to say that he was mad.

Thus Democritus esteemed of the world in his time, and this was the cause of his laughter:  and good cause he had.

[256] “Olim jure quidem, nunc plus Democrite ride;
          Quin rides? vita haec nunc mage ridicula est.”

       “Democritus did well to laugh of old,
          Good cause he had, but now much more;
        This life of ours is more ridiculous
          Than that of his, or long before.”

Never so much cause of laughter as now, never so many fools and madmen.  ’Tis not one [257]Democritus will serve turn to laugh in these days; we have now need of a “Democritus to laugh at Democritus;” one jester to flout at another, one fool to fleer at another:  a great stentorian Democritus, as big as that Rhodian Colossus, For now, as [258]Salisburiensis said in his time, totus mundus histrionem agit, the whole world plays the fool; we have a new theatre, a new scene, a new comedy of errors, a new company of personate actors, volupiae sacra (as Calcagninus willingly feigns in his Apologues) are celebrated all the world over, [259]where all the actors were madmen and fools, and every hour changed habits, or took that which came next.  He that was a mariner today, is an apothecary tomorrow; a smith one while, a philosopher another, in his volupiae ludis; a king now with his crown, robes, sceptre, attendants, by and by drove a loaded ass before him like a carter, &c.  If Democritus were alive now, he should see strange alterations, a new company of counterfeit vizards, whifflers, Cumane asses, maskers, mummers, painted puppets, outsides, fantastic shadows, gulls, monsters, giddy-heads, butterflies.  And so many of them are indeed ([260]if all be true that I have read).  For when Jupiter and Juno’s wedding was solemnised of old, the gods were all invited to the feast, and many noble men besides:  Amongst the rest came Crysalus, a Persian prince, bravely attended, rich in golden attires, in gay robes, with a majestical presence, but otherwise an ass.  The gods seeing him come in such pomp and state, rose up to give him place, ex habitu hominem metientes; [261]but Jupiter perceiving what he was, a light, fantastic, idle fellow, turned him and his proud followers into butterflies:  and so they continue still (for aught I know to the contrary) roving about in pied coats, and are called chrysalides by the wiser sort of men:  that is, golden outsides, drones, and flies, and things of no worth.  Multitudes of such, &c.

[262]   ------“ubique invenies
Stultos avaros, sycopliantas prodigos.”

Many additions, much increase of madness, folly, vanity, should Democritus observe, were he now to travel, or could get leave of Pluto to come see fashions, as Charon did in Lucian to visit our cities of Moronia Pia, and Moronia Felix:  sure I think he would break the rim of his belly with laughing. [263]_Si foret in terris rideret Democritus, seu_, &c.