As the Monks were the Masters of all that little Learning which was then extant, and had their whole Lives entirely disengaged from Business, it is no wonder that several of them, who wanted Genius for higher Performances, employed many Hours in the Composition of such Tricks in Writing as required much Time and little Capacity. I have seen half the _Æneid_ turned into _Latin_ Rhymes by one of the _Beaux Esprits_ of that dark Age; who says in his Preface to it, that the _Æneid_ wanted nothing but the Sweets of Rhyme to make it the most perfect Work in its Kind. I have likewise seen an Hymn in Hexameters to the Virgin _Mary,_ which filled a whole Book, tho' it consisted but of the eight following Words. _Tot, tibi, sunt, Virgo, dotes, quot, sidera, Caelo._ Thou hast as many Virtues, O Virgin, as there are Stars in Heaven. The Poet rung the [changes [1]] upon these eight several Words, and by that Means made his Verses almost as numerous as the Virtues and the Stars which they celebrated. It is no wonder that Men who had so much Time upon their Hands did not only restore all the antiquated Pieces of false Wit, but enriched the World with Inventions of their own. It was to this Age that we owe the Production of Anagrams,[2] which is nothing else but a Transmutation of one Word into another, or the turning of the same Set of Letters into different Words; which may change Night into Day, or Black into White, if Chance, who is the Goddess that presides over these Sorts of Composition, shall so direct. I remember a witty Author, in Allusion to this kind of Writing, calls his Rival, who (it seems) was distorted, and had his Limbs set in Places that did not properly belong to them, _The Anagram of a Man_. When the Anagrammatist takes a Name to work upon, he considers it at first as a Mine not broken up, which will not shew the treasure it contains till he shall have spent many Hours in the Search of it: For it is his Business to find out one Word that conceals it self in another, and to examine the Letters in all the Variety of Stations in which they can possibly be ranged. I have heard of a Gentleman who, when this Kind of Wit was in fashion, endeavoured to gain his Mistress's Heart by it. She was one of the finest Women of her Age, and [known [3]] by the Name of the Lady _Mary Boon_. The Lover not being able to make any thing of _Mary_, by certain Liberties indulged to this kind of Writing, converted it into _Moll_; and after having shut himself up for half a Year, with indefatigable Industry produced an Anagram. Upon the presenting it to his Mistress, who was a little vexed in her Heart to see herself degraded into _Moll Boon_, she told him, to his infinite Surprise, that he had mistaken her Sirname, for that it was not _Boon_ but _Bohun_. _... Ibi omnis Effusus labor ..._