_Clo._ I think his soul is in hell, Madonna. _Oli._ I know his soul is in heaven, fool. _Clo._ The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. In King Lear. _Fool._ Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one? _Lear._ No, lad, teach me. _Fool._ That lord that counselled thee To give away thy land, Come place him here by me-- Do thou for him stand: The sweet and bitter fool Will presently appear, The one in motley here, The other found out there. _Lear._ Dost thou call me fool, boy? _Fool._ All thy other titles thou hast given away that thou wast born with. _Kent._ This is not altogether a fool, my lord. The fact was that wit was now gradually improving, and was being wielded by so called fools in such a way that it could not be confounded with fatuity. The time was approaching when the humour manufactured by professed jesters would not be appreciated. Something higher and keener, such as Shakespeare has here shadowed forth would be required. This was not reached in Ben Jonson's time, but fools and their artifices are by him discarded for something more natural, for country bumpkins and servants, ludicrous in their stupidity, knavery and drunkenness. As civilization advanced, jugglers and clowns were relegated to country fairs. Henry the Eighth, at the commencement of his reign was a great patron of men of wit and learning, and probably the humour of More, as well as his virtue, recommended him to the King. We read that at Cardinal Morton's entertainments of his Christmas company, the future Chancellor, then a boy, would often mount the stage and extemporize with so much wit and talent as to surpass all the professional players. During his university course, and shortly afterwards, he wrote many neat Latin epigrams of which the two following rough translations will give some idea-- "A thief about to be accused, implored Advice, and sent his counsel many a pound, The counsel, when o'er mighty tomes he'd pored, Replied, 'If you'd escape, you must abscond.' "Once in the loving cup, a guest saw flies, Removed them, drank, and then put back a few. And, being questioned, sagely thus replies, 'I like them not--but cannot speak for you.'" He was to the last fond of pleasantry and kept a jester.