With us in France, saith Scaliger, every man hath liberty to write, but few ability. Heretofore learning was graced by judicious scholars, but now noble sciences are vilified by base and illiterate scriblers, that either write for vain-glory, need, to get money, or as Parasites to flatter and collogue with some great men, they put out burras, quisquiliasque ineptiasque.

Amongst so many thousand Authors you shall scarse finde one, by reading of whom you shall be any whit better, but rather much worse, quibus inficitur potius, quàm perficitur, by which he is rather infected than any way perfected. ———Qui talia legit, Quid didicit tandem, quid scit nisi somnia, nugas? So that oftentimes it fals out (which Challimachus taxed of old) a great Book is a great mischief.

Cardan findes fault with French men and Germans, for their scribling to no purpose, non inquit ab edendo deterreo, modo novum aliquid inveniant, he doth not bar them to write, so that it be some new invention of their own; but we weave the same web still, twist the same robe again and again, or if it be a new invention, tis but some bauble or toy which idle fellows write, for as idle fellows to read, and who so cannot invent?

He must have a barren wit, that in this scribling age can forge nothing. Princes shew their armies, rich men vaunt their buildings, souldiers their man-hood, and scholars vent their toyes, they must read, they must hear whether they will or no.

Et quodcunque semel chartis illeverit, omnes Gestiet à furno redeuntes scire lacuque, Et pueros & anus——— What once is said and writ, all men must know, Old wives and children as they come and go.

What a company of Poets hath this year brought out, as Pliny complains to Sossius Sinesius; This April every day some or other have recited. What a catalogue of new books all this year, all this age (I say) have our Frank-furt Marts, our domestick Marts brought out?

Twice a year, Proferunt se nova ingenia & ostentant, we stretch our wits out, and set them to sale, magno conatu nihil agimus. So that which Gesner much desires, if a speedy reformation be not had, by some Princes Edicts and grave Supervisors, to restrain this liberty, it will run on in infinitum.

Quis tam avidus librorum helluo, Who can read them? As already, we shall have a vast Chaos and confusion of Books, we are oppressed with them, our eyes ake with reading, our fingers with turning. For may part I am one of the number, nos numerus sumus, I do not deny it, I have only this of Macrobius to say for my self, Omne meum, nihil meum, tis all mine, and none mine.

As a good house-wife out of divers fleeces weaves one peece of cloth, a Bee gathers wax and honey out of many flowers, and makes a new bundel of all, Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant, I have laboriously collected this Cento out of divers Writers, and that sine injuriâ, I have wronged no authors, but given every man his own;

which Hierom so much commends in Nepotian, he stole not whole verses, pages, tracts, as some do now a daies, concealing their Authors names, but still said this was Cyprians, that Lactantius, that Hillarius, so said Minutius Felix, so Victorinus, thus far Arnobius: I cite and quote mine Authors (which howsoever some illiterate scriblers account pedantical, as a cloke of ignorance, and opposite to their affected fine stile, I must and will use) sumpsi, non surripui;

and what Varro Lib. 6. de re rust. speaks of Bees, minime maleficæ nullius opus vellicantes faciunt deterius, I can say of my self, whom have I injured? The matter is theirs most part, and yet mine, apparet unde sumptum sit (which Seneca approves) aliud tamen quàm unde sumptum sit apparet, which nature doth with the aliment of our bodies incorporate, digest, assimilate, I do conquoquere quod hausi, dispose of what I take.

I make them pay tribute, to set out this my Maceronicon, the method only is mine own, I must usurp that of Wecker è Ter. nihil dictum quod non dictum prius, methodus sola artificem ostendit, we can say nothing but what hath been said, the composition and method is ours only, & shews a Scholar. Oribasius, Æsius, Avicenna, have all out of Galen, but to their own method, diverso stilo, non diversâ fide, our Poets steal from Homer, he spews, saith Ælian, they lick it up. Divines use Austins words verbatim still, and our Story-dressers do as much, he that comes last is commonly best, ———donec quid grandius ætas Postera sorsq; ferat melior.———