_Non habet infœlix paupertas durius in se Quam quod ridiculos homines facit——_ Were it not for that, Poverty is a property we might pride in; nor would the Philosopher voluntarily have Shipwrakt his Fortunes, but that he might purchase thereby that glorious Motto; _Omnia mea mecum porto_. _Dioclesian_ so great an Emperor, that _Lætus_ parallels him with _Jupiter_; nay, he allow’d himself to be call’d Lord, and God, and would be sued unto, as a God; but having at last tryed sufficiently the vanity of his own vain-glory, he freely without compulsion, laid aside his Empire, and returned to a private life; being sollicited afterwards by several to resume his former Power, and Glory, he absolutely refus’d it, saying, _Did you see the Herbs set with my own hands in my Garden at_ Salona, _you would think me too good a Gardner, to become a miserable Emperour_. * * * * * There was nothing grated on his Spirit more than to be slighted in this his low condition, by such as he had supported from sinking into the Earth: and that he might not longer be afflicted in this manner, he projected several wayes, how might imploy himself in something, that might remove him from the scorn and reproach of the world. His credit was quite worn out, owing something in all the Taverns and Ale-houses that he was acquainted withal, through the whole City, and would have ran farther in their Debt, but that they not only hindred him from so doing, but likewise threatned him, by taking a course for what he owed already. This made him remove his Quarters to another remote quarter of the City. His Cloaths were so good as that they gained him credit for a Months Lodging and Dyet, in which time, he wrote several Ballads, which he sold in the _Old Bailey_, getting for the worst half a Crown or three shillings; but his Chapmen finding themselves losers by his works, did so revile and vilifie him the next time they saw him, that he was resolved to write no more, for it seems he had not writ Non-sense enough to please the Commonalty; he had taken too much pains to express his wit, and that spoiled all; soaring so high, the dim sighted vulgar could not discern him. * * * * * One day walking abroad Melancholy to think his first design was frustrated, he fell accidentally into the company of four or five, so unsuitably or antickly habited, that he verily thought they could not have cloathed themselves more out of fashion, than if for so doing, they had consulted all the Brokers in _Long-lane_, or _Houns-ditch_. At length by their toning of several scraps of Plays, and the whining out of Lovers parts, he judged them to be Players of the worst Edition, and that wanting some to compleat their number, they endeavoured to perswade him to make one of their Stroling Company.