“Do you see him there? That was a wicked, and a partial judge; and all he has to say for himself, is, that he remembers the time when he could have broke the neck of two honest causes, and he put them only out of joint. That good fellow there was a careless husband, and him we lodge too with the buffoons. He sold his wife’s portion, wife and all, to please his companions; and turned both into an annuity. That lady there (though a great one) is fain to take up too with the buffoons, for they are both of a humour: what they do with their talk, she does with her body, and seasons it to all appetites. In a word, you shall find buffoons in all conditions; and, in effect, there are nigh as many as there are men and women: for the whole world is given to jeering, slandering, backbiting, and there are more natural buffoons than artificial.” At my going out of the vault, I saw a matter of a thousand devils following a drove of pastry-men, and breaking their heads as they passed along, with iron peels. “Alack!” cried one of them, that was yet in a whole skin, “it is hard the sin of the flesh should be laid to our charge, that never had to do with women.” “Impudent, nasty rascals,” quoth a devil, “who has deserved hell, if they have not? How many thousand men have these slovens poisoned, with the grease of their heads and tails, instead of mutton-suet? with snot-pies for marrow; and flies for currants? How many stomachs have they turned into lay-stalls with the dogs’-flesh, horse-flesh and other carrion that they have put into them? And do these rogues complain (in the devil’s name) of their sufferings! Leave your bawling, ye whelps,” says he, “and know, that the pain you endure is nothing to that of your tormentors. And for your part,” says he, to me, with a sour look, “because you are a stranger, you may go about your business; but we have a crow to pluck with these fellows, before we part.”