the Banquet, when he argues that tragedy and comedy rest upon the same
ground. But humour properly took its rise in the middle ages; and the
Devil, the Vice of the mysteries, incorporates the modern humour in its
elements. It is a spirit measured by disproportionate finites. The Devil
is not, indeed, perfectly humourous; but that is only because he is the
extreme of all humour.

[Footnote 1: Every Man Out Of His Humour. Prologue.]

[Footnote 2: Trist. Sh. Vol. iii. c. 37.]





RABELAIS. [1]

Born at Chinon, 1483-4.--Died 1553.

One cannot help regretting that no friend of Rabelais, (and surely
friends he must have had), has left an authentic account of him. His
buffoonery was not merely Brutus' rough stick, which contained a rod of
gold; it was necessary as an amulet against the monks and bigots. Beyond
a doubt, he was among the deepest as well as boldest thinkers of his
age. Never was a more plausible, and seldom, I am persuaded, a less
appropriate line than the thousand times quoted,

Rabelais laughing in his easy chair--

of Mr. Pope. The caricature of his filth and zanyism proves how fully he