"Very well," said I, "but do you design to tye us as stocks, within which nature does not labour to be freed; or as those that use to sneeze and snore? Or, because I once succeeded in a like deceit? But suppose we cou'd hold out a day so ty'd up, what shall we do if we're put to't longer? Will the thoughts of a quiet life without cares, or of our adverse fortune entertain us most? our very cloaths long bound up will rot upon our backs: Can we, d'ye think, that are young, and not inur'd to labour, endure to be clad like statues, and wear our cords as insensibly? Since we are yet to seek a way of escape, for no proposal has been made without an objection; see what I have thought on: The studious Eumolpus, I presume, never goes unfurnisht with ink; is there a better expedient, than washing our hands, face, and hair, with that, to appear like Æthiopian slaves? when without wringing our limbs, we can't but be merry, to act a cheat, that so nearly imposes on our enemies?"
"And why would you not have us circumcis'd too," interrupted Gito, "that we may appear like Jews; and have our ears bor'd, to persuade them we came from Arabia? and why did not you advise our faces to be chalk'd as well as ink'd, that we might pass for Frenchmen, as if our colour would make such a mighty alteration? Has a foreigner but one mark of distinction? Can you think anybody so ignorant to mistake you for one, by that sign only? Grant our dawb'd faces wou'd keep their colour: Suppose it wou'd not wash off, nor our cloaths stick to the ink, how can we imitate their black swollen lips? the short curl of their hair? the seams on their foreheads? their circular way of treading? their splay feet? or the mode of their beards? an artificial colour rather stains than alters the body; but, if you'll be rul'd by a madman, let's cover our heads, and jump into the sea?"
"Nor Heaven nor man," cry'd Eumolpus, "cou'd suffer ye make so ill an end; rather pursue this advice: My slave, as you may imagine by his rasor, is a piece of a barber; let him shave not only your heads, but, as a mark of greater punishment, your eye-brows too, and Ill finish your disguise with an inscription on your foreheads, that you may appear as slaves branded for some extraordinary villany: Thus the same letters will at once divert their suspicion, and conceal your countenance under the mask of punishment."
We lik'd the advice, and hasten'd the execution, when stealing to the side of the vessel, we committed our heads and eye-brows to the barber: Eumolpus in the meantime fill'd our foreheads with great letters, and very liberally dispenc'd the known marks of fugitives through the other parts of our faces; one of the passengers, easing his o're-charg'd stomach o're the side of the ship, by the moon perceiving the reflection of a barber busie at so unseasonable a time, and, cursing the omen that he thought presag'd a shipwreck, ran to his hammock, upon which we dissembled the same, but indeed had an equal though different concern; and the noise over, we spent the rest of the night without resting much.
The next day Eumolpus, when he found Tryphœna was stirring, went to visit Lycas; and after he had talk'd with him about the happy voyage he hop'd from the clearness of the heavens, Lycas, turning to Tryphœna, "Methoughts," said he, "about midnight the vision of Priapus appear'd to me, and told me, he had lately brought into my ship Encolpius that I sought for": Tryphœna was startl'd, "And you'd swear we slept together," reply'd she, "for methoughts the image of Neptune having struck his trident thrice against the Bajœ, told me that in Lycas' ship I shou'd meet my Gito."
"Hence, proceeds," said Eumolpus, interrupting 'em, "that veneration I pay the divine Epicurus, who so wittily has discovered such illusions.
"When in a dream presented to our view,
Those airy forms appear so like the true;
Nor heaven nor hell the fancy'd visions sends,
But every breast its own delusion lends:
For when soft sleep the body wraps in ease,
And from th' unactive mass our fancy frees,
Whatever 'tis in which we take delight,
And think of most by day, we dream at night.
Thus he, the now sackt city justly fear'd,
Who all around had death and ruin shar'd.
From fancy'd darts believes a darkned sky,
And troops retreating in confusion fly:
There the sad funeral pomp of kings; here
Conscious plains, half drown'd in blood, appear
He that by day has nois'd it at the bar,
Of knaves and fools now sees the great resort,
And to meet justice vainly fears in court.
Misers amidst their heaps are raising new,
And think they oft their old hid treasure view.
And huntsmen the imagin'd chace pursue.
The merchant dreams of wrecks, the ship wou'd save,
Or now, by sinking it, himself preserve.
The mistress to her distant lover writes;
And, as awake, with flames and darts indites:
The good wife dreaming of her stallion's charms,
Oft seeks the pleasure in her cuckold's arms.
Dogs on full cry, in sleep, the hare pursue,
And hapless wretches their old griefs renew."
But Lycas, when he had thank'd his stars for their care of him, "That we may not seem," said he, "to condemn the divine powers, what hinders but we search the vessel?"
Upon which one Æsius, the passenger that had discover'd us by our reflection in the water, cry'd out, "these are the men that were shav'd by moonshine to night. Heaven avert the omen! I thought the ceremony of cutting the nails and hair, was never perform'd but as a solemn sacrifice to appease a storm."
"Is 't so," says Lycas, in a great heat, "did any in the ship offer to shave themselves, and at midnight too? Bring 'em quickly hither, that I may know who they are that deserve to die a sacrifice for our safety."