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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14031-0.txt b/14031-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f583854 --- /dev/null +++ b/14031-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19632 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14031 *** + +The Colloquies of Erasmus. + +TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY. + +_Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M.A._ + +VOL. I. + +LONDON: 1878. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +VOL. I. + +_Prefatory Note_ +_Dedication_ +_Admonitory Note_ +_To the Divines of_ Louvain +_Copy of_ Bailey's _Title_ +Bailey's _Preface_ +_Life of_ Erasmus +_Courtesy in Saluting_ +_Family Discourse_ +_Of Rash Vows_ +_Of Benefice-Hunters_ +_Of a Soldier's Life_ +_The Commands of a Master_ +_The School-master's Admonitions_ +_Of Various Plays_ +_The Child's Piety_ +_The Art of Hunting_ +_Scholastic Studies_ +_The Profane Feast_ +_The Religious Treat_ +_The Apotheosis of_ Capnio +_A Lover and Maiden_ +_The Virgin Averse to Matrimony_ +_The Penitent Virgin_ +_The Uneasy Wife_ +_The Soldier and Carthusian_ +Philetymus _and_ Pseudocheus +_The Shipwreck_ +_Diversoria_ +_Young Man and Harlot_ +_The Poetical Feast_ +_An Enquiry concerning Faith_ +_The Old Mens Dialogue_ +_The Franciscans,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or Rich Beggars_ +_The Abbot and Learned Woman_ +_The Epithalamium of Petrus Ægidius_ +_The Exorcism or Apparition_ +_The Alchymist_ +_The Horse-Cheat_ +_The Beggars' Dialogue_ +_The Fabulous Feast_ +_The Lying-in Woman_ + + + + +Prefatory Note. + +The present English version of Erasmus' _Colloquies_ is a reprint of the +translation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. In +his Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close to +the original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the +English Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure that +Erasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin." + +This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chief +peculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic and +proverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases and +allusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogous +English forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographical +studies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words and +phrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construes +Erasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than the +original. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has a +certain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest even +by those who are familiar with the original. + +In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefully +revised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty has +not been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removing +the coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which he +exaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling is +jealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations. + +Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation has +been closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracies +on Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at the +end of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes its +language, has in many of these notes been given, with the view of +increasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainder +of the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneous +character: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, of +course, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed to +afford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may be +intelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to some +extent to the scholar. + +The Colloquies of Erasmus form a rich quarry of intellectual material, +from which each student will extract that which he regards to be of +peculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life and +manners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all find +themselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many who +at the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of a +book which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on its +appearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the making +of history. + +It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editor +undertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as to +space and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea of +what the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting in +accuracy, however falling short of completeness. + +The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed by +the Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Froben +has been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_, +not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon the +history or contents of the book. + + + + +DEDICATION. + + +_D. ERASMUS_ Rot. + +TO + +_JOHN ERASMIUS FROBEN_, + +_A Boy of Excellent Promise: Greeting._ + + +The Book dedicated to you has surpassed my expectation, my dearest +Erasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappoint +my expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seize +upon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has had +repeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You might +say it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, who +foster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you also +may be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning and +probity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep cause +for shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latin +scholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profit +should not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. And +since there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of the +Colloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your fault +the fact should seem that you could not thank me on the same account? +The little book has increased to the fair size of a volume. You must +also endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in sound +learning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed upon +you: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would be +glorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannot +without the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your course +thus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring the +runner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrived +at an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life for +imbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, that +these Colloquies may be truly called yours. + +The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from all +pollutions, and ever lead you on to better things! Farewell. + +BASIL, _August 1st._, 1524. + + + + +AN ADMONITORY NOTE OF ERASMUS ON THE TRICKS AND IMPOSTURES OF A CERTAIN +DOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS +RIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF. + +_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collected +partly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture of +certain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in bad +Latin,--perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderful +applause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I was +compelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, having +applied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that the +book might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of the +honour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy then +six years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done in +the year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receives +addition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made an +addition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but so +tempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, and +their use in polishing the style, they might also contain that which +would conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I have +referred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read with +wonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, it +could not escape [Greek: tôn sykophantôn dêgmata]. A certain divine of +Louvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in it +four heretical passages. There was also another incident connected with +this work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certain +passages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attack +monks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kind +which, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source of +more plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this so +stupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some street +buffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certain +divine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it to +add his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to have +suppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would rather +look for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in my +name, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction of +one boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. He +represents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and in +piety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling of +certain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know that +some will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such a +hater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and most +accomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he represents +me as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter of +Jerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letter +under his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he was +made to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falsely +translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would have +succeeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, had +they been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style. +Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurable +roguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is more +rascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting in +power to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up to +Erasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowery +preface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life is +still spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest those +who follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul! + +_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunk +from interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself in +a most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment of +divines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whom +he supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detect +the patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does he +everywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, the +Colleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anything +uncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it to +the British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added some +odious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatred +against me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It is +needless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makes +additions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud, +rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rooting +up everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made by +me are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchman +you are turned into a Gaul,'[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I a +Capon then, when I went hence?': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you are +turned into a Briton. What? was I a Saxon, then, when I went hence?' +_Again, when the same speaker had said_, 'Your garb shows that you are +changed from a Batavian into a Gaul,' _he puts_ 'Briton' _for_ 'Gaul'; +_and when the speaker had replied_, 'I had rather that metamorphosis, +than into a Hen,' _alluding to_ 'Cock:' _he changed_ 'Hen' _into_ +'Bohemian.' _Presently, when there is a joke_, 'that he pronounces Latin +in French style,' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British,' _and yet +allows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses, +because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to the +British. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls' +_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle?' _he thus spoils +the joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to war +with the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war. +Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations does +not hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'Is +Paris free from the plague?' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from the +plague?' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraid +to cut up this capon?' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes no +alteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg?' _Forsooth, +although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired to +sit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal mind +a cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in my +text_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books of +one Cicero.' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of the +contents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my text +rallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless puts +faith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess that +he, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope's +indulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speaker +as recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wants +to appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just as +if one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in the +human body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should cure +the wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made to +God is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confession +which is made to the priest is the best.' _Thus did he take care for +imperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sake +of example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. And +these answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my name +in his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing a +palinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in that +work of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For it +does not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, as +burdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publish +anything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of this +kind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who is +slandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divine +when his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theological +science. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his lies +upon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as to +be willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder at +the incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was a +chick who once upon a time fell out of a nest at Berne, entirely [Greek: +hek kakistou korakost kakiston hôon]. This I am astonished at, if the +report is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those who +pride themselves on having at length secured a man who by the +thunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party of +Luther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrote +also against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that they +are slandered by me, who aid their studies in so many night-watches; +while they themselves willingly embrace monsters of this description, +who bring more dishonour to the order of divines and even of monks, +than any foe, however foul-mouthed, can do. He who has audacity for such +an act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And these +things are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even the +Gospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty. + +This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, is +issued in the month of September, 1524._ + + +[Footnote A: Gallus: meaning also a Cock.] + +[Footnote B: _Immunis_ instead of _immune_ agreeing with Londinum.] + + + * * * * * + +_From a letter of Erasmus dated 5th Oct. 1532, we gather some further +particulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name was +Lambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing a +garbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending to +be a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soon +stolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, and +would have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowl +saved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been proved +against him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think, +Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers,--his cowl thrown aside, teaching the +Gospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellow +out. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. And +this sort of plague spreads from day to day."_ + + + + +#ERASMUS ROTERODAMUS# TO THE _DIVINES OF LOUVAIN_, + + +_His dearly beloved brethren in the Lord, greeting._ + +A matter has been brought to my knowledge, not only by rumour, but by +the letters of trustworthy friends, expressly stating in what words, in +what place, a calumny was directed against me in our midst, through the +agency of a well-known person, who is ever true to himself; whose very +character and former doings lead one to assume as ascertained fact what +in another would have been but probable. Accordingly, I thought I ought +to make no concealment of the matter; especially from you, whose part it +was to restrain the unbridled impudence of the fellow, if not for my +sake, at all events for that of your Order. + +He boasts and vociferates that in the book of Colloquies there are four +passages more than heretical: concerning the _Eating of meats_ and +_Fasting_, concerning _Indulgences_, and concerning _Vows_, Although +such be his bold and impudent assertion, whoever reads the book in its +entirety will find the facts to be otherwise. If, however, leisure be +wanting for the reading of trifles of this description, I will briefly +lay the matter open. But before I approach it, I think well to make +three prefatory remarks. + +First, in this matter contempt of the Emperor's edict[C] cannot be laid +to my charge. For I understand it was published May 6th, 1522, whereas +this book was printed long before: and that at Basle, where no Imperial +edict had up to the time been made known, whether publicly or privately. + +[Footnote C: Edict of the Emperor Charles V.: 1523.] + +Secondly, although in that book I do not teach dogmas of Faith, but +formulae for speaking Latin; yet there are matters intermixed by the +way, which conduce to good manners. Now if, when a theme has been +previously written down in German or French, a master should teach his +boys to render the sense in Latin thus: _Utinam nihil edant praeter +allia, qui nobis hos dies pisculentos invexerunt_. ("Would they might +eat naught but garlic, who imposed these fish-days upon us.") Or this: +_Utinam inedia pereant, qui liberos homines adigunt ac jejunandi +necessitatem_. ("Would they might starve to death, who force the +necessity of fasting on free men.") Or this: _Digni sunt ut fumo pereant +qui nobis Dispensationum ad Indulgentiarum fumos tam care vendunt_. +("They deserve to be stifled to death who sell us the smokes (pretences) +of dispensations and indulgences at so dear a rate.") Or this: _Utinam +vere castrentur, qui nolentes arcent à matrimonio_. ("Would they might +indeed be made eunuchs of, who keep people from marrying, against their +will")--I ask, whether he should be forced to defend himself, for having +taught how to turn a sentence, though of bad meaning, into good Latin +words? I think there is no one so unjust, as to deem this just. + +Thirdly, I had in the first instance to take care what sort of person it +should be to whom I ascribe the speech in the dialogue. For I do not +there represent a divine preaching, but good fellows having a gossip +together. Now if any one is so unfair as to refuse to concede me the +quality of the person represented, he ought, by the same reasoning, to +lay it to my charge, that there one Augustine (I think) disparages the +Stoics' principle of the _honestum_, and prefers the sect of the +Epicureans, who placed the highest good in pleasure. He may also bring +it against me, that in that passage a soldier, amongst many things which +he speaks about in true soldier-fashion, says that he will look for a +priest to confess to, who shall have as little of good as possible about +him. The same objector would, I imagine, bring it up against me, were I +to ascribe to Arius in a dialogue a discourse at variance with the +Church. If such charges against me would be absurd, why in other matters +should not regard be had to the quality of the person speaking? Unless +perchance, were I to represent a Turk speaking, they should decide to +lay at my door whatever he might say. + +With this preface, I will make a few general remarks on the passages +criticised by the person to whom I refer. In the first passage, a boy of +sixteen years says that he confesses only sins that are unquestionably +capital, or gravely suspected; while the Lutherans teach, as I +understand, that it is not necessary to confess all capital offences. +Thus the very facts show, that this boy's speech is in great +disagreement with the dogma which you condemn. Presently, the same boy +being asked, whether it be sufficient to confess to Christ himself, +answers that it will satisfy his mind, if the fathers of the Church were +of the same opinion. From this my critic argues, not with dialectic art, +but with rascally cunning, that I suggest that this _Confession_ which +we now practise was not instituted by Christ, but by the leaders of the +Church. Such an inference might appear sound, were not Christ one of the +Primates of the Church, since according to Peter's saying He is Chief +Shepherd, and according to the word of the Gospel, Good Shepherd. +Therefore he who speaks of princes of the Church, does not exclude +Christ, but includes Him along with the Apostles, and the successors of +the Apostles, in the same manner as he who names the principal members +of the body does not exclude the head. But if any one shall deem this +reply to savour of artifice: well now, let us grant that the boy was +thinking of pure men, heads of the Church: is it then not enough for the +boy that he follows in the matter of confession their authority, even +although he is not assured whether the Popes could ordain this on their +own authority, or handed it down to us from the ordinance of Christ? For +he has a mind to obey, in whatever way they have handed it down. I am +not even myself fully convinced as yet, that the Church defined the +present practice of Confession to be of Christ's ordinance. For there +are very many arguments, to me in fact insoluble, which persuade to the +contrary. Nevertheless, I entirely submit this feeling of my own to the +judgment of the Church. Gladly will I follow it, so soon as on my watch, +for certainty I shall have heard its clear voice. Nay, had Leo's Bull +given the fullest expression of this doctrine, and any one should either +be ignorant of it, or should have forgotten it, it would meanwhile +suffice (I imagine) to obey in this matter the authority of the Church, +with a disposition of obedience, should the point be established. Nor in +truth can it be rightly inferred, _This Confession is of human +ordinance, therefore Christ is not its Author_. The Apostles laid down +the discipline of the Church, without doubt from Christ's ordinances: +they ordained Baptism, they ordained Bishops, &c., but by the authority +of Christ. And yet it cannot be denied, that many particulars of this +Confession depend on the appointment of the Pontiffs, viz., that we +confess once a year, at Easter, to this or that priest; that any priest +absolves us from any trespasses whatever. Hence I judge it to be clear +how manifest is the calumny in what relates to _Confession_. + +Further, no mention is there made of _fasting_, to which the Gospel and +the Apostolic epistles exhort us, but _concerning the choice of foods_, +which Christ openly sets at naught in the Gospel, and the Pauline +epistles not seldom condemn; especially that which is Jewish and +superstitious. Some one will say, this is to accuse the Roman Pontiff +who teaches that which the Apostle condemns. What the Gospel teaches, +is perfectly plain. The Pontiff himself must declare with what intention +he commands what the Gospel does not require. Yet no one there +says--what I know not whether Luther teaches--that the constitutions of +the Pontiffs do not render us liable to guilt, unless there has been +contempt besides. In fact, he who speaks in that passage grants that the +Pope may appoint an observance; he simply enquires, whether this were +the intention of the Pope, to bind all equally to abstinence from meats, +so that one who should partake would be liable to hell-fire, even +although no perverse contempt should be committed. And he who says this +in the Colloquies, adds that he hates fishes not otherwise than he does +a serpent. Now, there are some so affected that fish is poison to them, +just as there are found those who in like manner shrink from wine. If +one who is thus affected with regard to fishes, should be forbidden to +feed on flesh and milk-food, will he not be hardly treated? Is it +possible that any man can desire him to be exposed to the pains of hell, +if for the necessity of his body he should live on flesh? If any +constitution of Popes and Bishops involves liability to the punishment +of hell, the condition of Christians is hard indeed. If some impose the +liability, others not; no one will better declare his intention than the +Pope himself. And it would conduce to the peace of consciences to have +it declared. What if some Pope should decree that priests should go +girt; would it be probable that he declared this with the intention that +if one because of renal suffering should lay aside the girdle, he should +be liable to hell? I think not. St. Gregory laid down, That if any one +had had intercourse with his wife by night, he should abstain the next +day from entering church: in this case, supposing that a man, concealing +the fact of intercourse having taken place, should have gone to church +for no other reason than that he might hear the preaching of the Gospel, +would he be liable to hell? I do not think the holiest man could be so +harsh. If a man with a sick wife should live on meat, because otherwise +she could not be provoked to eat, and her health required food, surely +the Pope would not on that account determine him to be liable to hell! +This matter is simply made a subject of enquiry in the passage referred +to, and no positive statement is made. And certainly before the Imperial +Edict, men were at liberty to enquire concerning these matters. + +In point of fact, neither in that place nor elsewhere do I absolutely +condemn the _Indulgences_ of the Popes, although hitherto more than +sufficient indulgence has been shown them. It is simply that a speaker +ridicules his comrade, who, although in other respects the most +frivolous of triflers (for so he is depicted), yet believed that by the +protection of a Bull he would get safely to heaven. So far from thinking +this to be heretical, I should imagine there was no holier duty than to +warn the people not to put their trust in Bulls, unless they study to +change their life and correct their evil desires. + +But _Vows_ are ridiculed in that passage. Yes, they are ridiculed, and +those (of whom there is a vast multitude) are admonished, who, leaving +wife and children at home, under a vow made in their cups, run off along +with a few pot-companions to Rome, Compostella, or Jerusalem. But, as +manners now are, I think it a holier work to dissuade men altogether +from such Vows than to urge to the making of them. + +These, forsooth, are the execrable heresies which yonder Lynceus +descries in the Puerile Colloquy. I wonder why he does not also give my +Catunculus and the Publian mimes[D] a dusting. Who does not perceive +that these attacks proceed from some private grudge? Yet in nothing have +I done him an injury, except that I have favoured good literature, which +he hates more than sin; and knows not why. Meantime he boasts that he +too has a weapon, by which he may take his revenge. If a man at a feast +calls him Choroebus or a drunkard, he in his turn will in the pulpit cry +heretic, or forger, or schismatic upon him. I believe, if the cook were +to set burnt meat on the dinner-table, he would next day bawl out in the +course of his sermon that she was suspected of heresy. Nor is he +ashamed, nor does he retreat, though so often caught, by the very facts, +in manifest falsehood. + +[Footnote D: Publius Syrus (B.C. 45), a writer of _mimes_, or familiar +prose dramas. A collection of apophthegms from his works is said to have +been used as a school-book in Jerome's days.] + +In the first place what a foolish, what a mad blather he made against my +revised New Testament! Next, what could be more like madness than that +remark which he threw out against J. Faber and myself, when the very +facts bespoke that he did not understand what agreement there was +between me and Faber, or what was the subject of controversy! What more +shameless than his fixing a charge of forgery and heresy in the course +of a public address on me, because I rendered according to the Greek: +Omnes quidem non resurgemus, sed omnes immutabimur ("We shall not all +rise again, but we shall all be changed.") What more like a raging +madman, then his warning the people at Mechlin, in a public address, to +beware of the heresy of Luther and Erasmus! Why should I now recall the +ravings that he belches out rather than utters in the midst of his high +feasting as often as his zeal for the house of the Lord is inflamed from +his cups? He lately said in Holland, that I was set down for a forger +among the divines of Louvain. (One who was present and heard it wrote to +me.) When asked, Why? Because, says he, he so often corrects the New +Testament! What a dolt of a tongue! Jerome so often corrected the +Psalter: is he therefore a forger? In short if he is a forger, who +either rashly or from ignorance translates anything otherwise than it +should be, he was a forger, whose translation we use at the present day +in the Church. But what good does this sort of behavior do him? All men +laugh at him as a Morychus,[E] shun him as a crackbrain,--get out of +his way as a peevish fellow you can do nothing with. Nor can they think +ill of him, of whom he says such spiteful things. And though he +displeases all, himself alone he cannot displease. + +[Footnote E: Lit.: One stained or smeared: an epithet of Bacchus +(Dionysos) in Sicily, "smeared with wine-lees." ([Greek: moryssô].)] + +This doubtless he holds to be an Imperial edict, that he with raging +insolence of tongue should rave at whomsoever he pleases. Thus does this +wise and weighty man support the interests of the orthodox faith. This +is not a zeal of God, to hurt the harmless; but it is a rage of the +devil. The Jewish zeal of Phinehas was once extolled, but not that it +might pass as a pattern with Christians. And yet Phinehas openly slew +impious persons. To your colleague whatever he hates is Lutheran and +heretical. In the same way, I suppose, he will call small-beer, flat +wine, and tasteless broth, Lutheran. And the Greek tongue, which is his +_unique_ aversion,--I suppose for this reason, that the Apostles +dignified it with so great an honour as to write in no other,--will be +called Lutheran. Poetic art, for he hates this too, being fonder of the +_potatic_, will be Lutheran. + +He complains that his authority is lessened by our means, and that he is +made a laughing-stock in my writings. The fact is, he offers himself as +an object of ridicule to all men of education and sense; and this +without end. I _repel slander_. But if learned and good men think ill of +_a man_ who directs a slander at one who has not deserved it, which is +it fair to consider the accountable person, he who rightly repels what +he ought not to acknowledge, or he who injuriously sets it afoot? If a +man were to be laughed at for saying that asses in Brabant have wings, +would he not himself make the laughing-matter? He cries out that _the +whole of Luther is in my books_, that on all sides they swarm with +heretical errors. But when those who read my writings find nothing of +the kind, even if ignorant of dialectics, they readily infer the true +conclusion. He has authority from the Emperor. Let him therefore conduct +himself in the spirit of the Emperor, who would rather that wrong-doers +should be cured than punished, and certainly does not desire that the +harmless should be injured. He has entrusted this function to a man he +did not know; when he shall have ascertained the fellow's character, he +will doubtless recall what he has entrusted. It is not the disposition +of the mildest of Emperors, nor of the most upright of Popes, that those +who spend their night-watches in studying how to adorn and assist the +State, should be exposed to the spite of such men; even although there +were some human infirmity in the case. So far are they from desiring to +estrange good and honest men, and force them to take a different side. + +These matters are more your concern than mine. For this man's manners +invite much discredit upon your order, while the mass of the people +judge of you all by this one sample. Unjustly so, I admit; but so the +world wags. And the harshness of your brother estranges no small number +from the study of divinity. I know that the man is utterly disliked by +you, with the exception of two or three boon companions, and one old +hand, who abuses the man's folly in the interests of his own lusts. But +all would definitely understand that you disapprove of him, if, since he +cannot be restrained, you were to expel him from your table. I well know +such a step will be very difficult to take. For men of his stamp are +reluctantly torn away from the smell of stated, sumptuous, and free +repasts. Nevertheless this concerns the honour of your Order, towards +which I have good reason to be well-disposed. Farewell. + +Supposed to have been written in 1531. + + + + +ALL THE + +#Familiar Colloquies# + +OF + +_#Desiderius Erasmus#_, + +OF + +#ROTERDAM,# + +Concerning Men, Manners, and Things, translated into _English_. + + * * * * * + +By N. BAILEY. + + * * * * * + + Unlike in Method, with conceal'd Design, + Did crafty _Horace_ his low Numbers join; + And, with a sly insinuating Grace, + Laugh'd at his Friend, and look'd him in the Face: + Would raise a Blush, when secret Vice he found; + And tickled, while he gently prob'd the Wound: + With seeming Innocence the Crowd beguil'd; + But made the desperate Passes, when he smil'd. + +_Persius Sat. I. Dryden_. + + * * * * * + +_LONDON_ + +1725. + + + + +#THE PREFACE.# + +_There are two Things I would take some Notice of: The first relates to +my Author, and the second to myself, or the Reasons why I have attempted +this Translation of him. And in speaking of the first, I presume I shall +save myself much of what might be said as to the second. Tho'_ Erasmus +_is so well known, especially to those versed in the_ Latin _Tongue, +that there seems to be but little Occasion to say any Thing in his +Commendation; yet since I have taken upon me to make him an_ +English-man, _give me Leave to say, that in my Opinion, he as well +deserves this Naturalization, as any modern Foreigner whose Works are +in_ Latin, _as well for the Usefulness of the Matter of his Colloquies, +as the Pleasantness of Style, and Elegancy of the_ Latin. + +_They are under an egregious Mistake, who think there is nothing to be +found in them, but Things that savour of Puerility, written indeed +ingeniously, and in elegant_ Latin. _For this Book contains, besides +those, Things of a far greater Concern; and indeed, there is scarce any +Thing wanting in them, fit to be taught to a_ Christian _Youth design'd +for liberal Studies. + +The Principles of Faith are not only plainly and clearly laid down, but +establish'd upon their own firm and genuine Basis. The Rules of Piety, +Justice, Charity, Purity, Meekness, Brotherly Concord, the Subjection +due to Superiors, are so treated of, that, in a Word, scarce any Thing +is omitted that belongs to a Man, a Subject, or a Christian. + +Neither are those Things omitted, which respect a Medium of Life, by +which every one may chuse out safely what Ratio of Life he has most Mind +to, and by which he may be taught, not only Civility and Courtesy, but +also may know how to behave himself in the World, so as to gain himself +the good Will of many, and, a good Name among all, and may be able to +discern the Follies and Childishnesses of Fools, and the Frauds and +Villanies of Knaves, so as to guard against 'em all. + +And neither are there wanting Sketches, and that ample ones too, of +Poetical Story, or Pagan Theology, universal History, sacred and +profane, Poetry, Criticism, Logick, Natural and Moral Philosophy, +Oeconomics and Politics; to which are added, a good Number of Proverbs +and Apothegms used by the most celebrated of the Antients. + +But there is one Thing in an especial Manner, that should recommend this +Book to all_ Protestants _in general, and cause them to recommend it to +be read by their Children, that there is no Book fitter for them to +read, which does in so delightful and instructing a Manner utterly +overthrow almost all the Popish Opinions and Superstitions, and erect in +their Stead, a Superstructure of Opinions that are purely Protestant. + +And notwithstanding whatsoever_ Erasmus _hath said in his Apology +concerning the Utility of his Colloquies, that he could say with +Modesty, according to his wonted Dexterity, to temper, and alleviate the +Bitterness of the Wormwood that he gave the_ Papists _to drink in the +Colloquies, it is past a Question, that he lays down a great many Things +agreeable to the_ Protestant _Hypothesis, so that (if you except +Transubstantiation) he reprehends, explodes and derides almost all the_ +Popish _Opinions, Superstitions and Customs. + +Therefore if this golden Book be read with Attention, I doubt not but it +will plainly appear, that the Scripture was in all Things preferr'd by +the Author before them all; and that he accounted that alone truly +infallible, and of irrefragable Authority, and did not account the +Councils, Popes or Bishops so. + +And as to the praying to Saints, it was his Opinion, the christian World +would be well enough without it, and that he abhor'd that common Custom +of asking unworthy Things of them, and flying to them for Refuge more +than to the Father and Christ. + +That he look'd upon all external Things of very small Account, of +whatsoever Species they were: Either the Choice of Meats, Processions, +Stations, and innumerable other Ordinances and Ceremonies, and that they +were in themselves unprofitable, although he, for the sake of Peace and +Order, did conform himself to all harmless Things that publick Authority +had appointed. Not judging those Persons, who out of a Scrupulousness +of Conscience thought otherwise, but wishing that those in Authority +would use their Power with more Mildness. + +And that he esteem'd, as Trifles and Frauds, the Community of good +Works, of all Men whatsoever, or in any Society whatsoever; that he +abhor'd the Sale of Pardons for Sins, and derided the Treasury of +Indulgences, from whence it is a plain Inference, that he believ'd +nothing of Purgatory. + +And that he more than doubted, whether auricular Confession was +instituted by Christ or the Apostles; and he plainly condemns +Absolution, and laugh'd at the giving it in an unknown Tongue. From +whence we may fairly infer, that he was against having the Liturgy +(which ought to be read to Edification) in an unknown Tongue. But he +either thought it not safe, or not convenient, or at least not +absolutely necessary to speak his Mind plainly as to that Matter. + +Likewise, he particularly laugh'd at all the Species of popular and +monastical Piety; such as Prayers repeated over and over, without the +Mind, but recited by a certain Number with their_ Rosaries, _and_ +Ave-Maria's, _by which, God being neglected, they expected to obtain all +Things, though none were particularly nam'd: Their_ tricenary, _and_ +anniversary Masses, _nay, and all those for the Dead: The dying and +being buried in a_ Franciscan's _and_ Dominican's _Garment or Cowl, and +all the Trumpery belonging to it; and did, in a manner condemn all Sorts +of Monastical Life and Order, as practis'd among the Papists. + +He shews it likewise to have been his Opinion, as to the Reliques of_ +Christ, _and he and she Saints, that he judg'd the Worship of them a +vain and foolish Thing, and believ'd no Virtue to be in any of them, +nay, that the most, if not all of them, were false and counterfeit. + +And to crown the Whole, he did not spare that beloved Principle and +Custom of the Papists, so zealously practis'd by them upon Protestants, +viz. the Persecution and Burning of Hereticks. + +And now, of how much Use and Advantage such Things, and from such a +Person as_ Erasmus, _may be, and how much they may conduce to the +extirpating those Seeds of Popery, that may have been unhappily sown, or +may be subtilly instill'd into the Minds of uncautious Persons, under +the specious Shew of Sanctity, will, I presume, easily appear. Tho' the +Things before-mention'd may be Reason sufficient for the turning these +Colloquies of_ Erasmus _into_ English, _that so useful a Treatise may +not be a Book seal'd, either to Persons not at all, or not enough +acquainted with the_ Latin _tongue, as to read them with Edification; +yet I did it from another Motive,_ i.e. _the Benefit of such as having +been initiated, desire a more familiar Acquaintance with the_ Latin +_Tongue (as to the Speaking Part especially, to which_ Erasmus's +_Colloquies are excellently adapted) that by comparing this Version with +the Original, they may be thereby assisted, to more perfectly +understand, and familiarize themselves with those Beauties of the_ Latin +_Language, in which_ Erasmus _in these Colloquies abounds. + +And for that End, I have labour'd to give such a Translation of them, as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a Paraphrase: But keeping as close to +the Original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the_ +English _Idiom, and so depriving the_ English _Reader of that Pleasure, +that_ Erasmus _so plentifully entertains his Reader with in_ Latin. + +_It is true, Sir_ Roger l'Estrange _and Mr._ Tho. Brown, _have formerly +done some select Colloquies, and Mr._ H.M. _many years since has +translated the whole; but the former being rather Paraphrases than +Translations, are not so capable of affording the Assistance +before-mention'd; and as to the latter, besides that his Version is +grown very scarce, the Style is not only antient, but too flat for so +pleasant and facetious an Author as_ Erasmus _is_. + +_I do not pretend to have come up in my_ English, _to that Life and +Beauty of_ Erasmus _in Latin, which as it is often inimitable in the_ +English _Language, so it is also a Task fit to be undertaken by none but +an_ English Erasmus _himself_, i.e. _one that had the same Felicity of +Expression that he had; but I hope it will appear that I have kept my +Author still in my Eye, tho' I have followed him_ passibus haud æquis, +_and could seldom come up to him. I shall not detain you any longer; but +subscribe my self, yours to serve you_, + +_Jan. 25th_, N. BAILEY. 1724-5. + + + + +_The_ LIFE _of_ ERASMUS. + +_DESIDERIUS Erasmus_, surnamed _Roterodamus_, was born at _Roterdam_, a +Town of _Holland_, on the Vigil of _Simon and Jude_, or _October_ the +20th or 28th, 1465, according to his Epitaph at _Basil_; or according to +the Account of his life, _Erasmo Auctore, circa annum, &c._ about the +Year 1467, which agrees with the Inscription of his Statue at +_Roterdam_, which being the Place of his Nativity, may be suppos'd to be +the most authentick. His Mother's Name was _Margaret_, the Daughter of +one _Peter_, a Physician of _Sevenbergen_. His Father's Name was +_Gerard_, who carried on a private Correspondence with her, upon Promise +of Marriage; and as it should seem from the Life which has _Erasmus's_ +Name before it, was actually contracted to her, which seems plainly to +be insinuated by these Words; _Sunt qui intercessisse verba ferunt_: +However, it is not to be denied that _Erasmus_ was born out of Wedlock, +and on that Account, Father _Theophilus Ragnaud_, has this pleasant +Passage concerning him: _If one may be allow'd to droll upon a Man, that +droll'd upon all the World_, Erasmus, _tho' he was not the Son of a +King, yet he was the Son of a crown'd Head_, meaning a Priest. But in +this he appears to have been mistaken, in that his Father was not in +Orders when he begat him. His Father _Gerard_ was the Son of one +_Elias_, by his Mother _Catherine_, who both liv'd to a very advanc'd +Age; _Catherine_ living to the Age of 95. _Gerard_ had nine Brethren by +the same Father and Mother, without one Sister coming between them; he +himself was the youngest of the ten, and liv'd to see two of his +Brothers at _Dort_ in _Holland_, near 90 Years of Age each. All his +Brothers were married but himself; and according to the Superstition of +those Times, the old People had a mind to consecrate him to God, being a +tenth Child, and his Brothers lik'd the Motion well enough, because by +that Means they thought they should have a sure Friend, where they might +eat and drink, and be merry upon Occasion. They being all very pressing +upon him to turn Ecclesiastick, (which was a Course of Life that he had +no Inclination to,) _Gerard_ finding himself beset on all Sides, and by +their universal Consent excluded from Matrimony, resolving not to be +prevail'd upon by any Importunities, as desperate Persons do, fled from +them, and left a Letter for his Parents and Brothers upon the Road, +acquainting them with the Reason of his Elopement, bidding them an +eternal Farewell, telling them he would never see them more. He +prosecuted his Journey to _Rome_, leaving _Margaret_, his Spouse that +was to be, big with Child of _Erasmus. Gerard_ being arriv'd at _Rome_, +betook himself to get his Living by his Pen, (by transcribing Books) +being an excellent Penman; and there being at that Time a great deal of +that Sort of Business to do (for as the Life that is said to be _Erasmo +Auctore_ has it, _tum nondum ars typographorum erat_, i.e. _The Art of +Printing was not then found out_; which was a Mistake, for it had been +found out twenty-four Years before, in the Year 1442. But perhaps the +Meaning may be, tho' it was found out, it was not then commonly used) he +got Money plentifully, and for some Time, as young Fellows us'd to do, +liv'd at large; but afterwards apply'd himself in good Earnest to his +Studies, made a considerable Progress in the _Latin_ and _Greek_ +Tongues, which was very much facilitated by his Employment of +transcribing Authors, which could not but strongly impress them on his +Memory; and he had also another great Advantage, in that a great many +learned Men then flourish'd at _Rome_ and he heard particularly one +_Guarinus_. But to return to _Erasmus_, his Mother _Margaret_ being +delivered of him, he was after his Father called _Gerard_, which in the +_German_ Tongue, signifies _Amiable_; and as it was the Custom among +learned Men in those Times, (who affected to give their Names either in +_Latin_ or _Greek_,) it was turn'd into _Desiderius_ (_Didier_) in +_Latin_, and into _Erasmus_ [Greek: Herasmios] in _Greek_, which has the +same Signification. He was at first brought up by his Grandmother, till +_Gerard's_ Parents coming to the Knowledge that he was at _Rome_, wrote +to him, sending him Word, that the young Gentlewoman whom he courted for +a Wife was dead; which he giving Credit to, in a melancholy Fit, took +Orders, being made a Presbyter, and apply'd his Mind seriously to the +Study of Religion. But upon his Return into his own Country, he found +that they had impos'd upon him. Having taken Orders, it was too late to +think of Marriage; he therefore quitted all further Pretensions to her, +nor would she after this, be induced to marry. _Gerard_ took Care to +have his Son _Erasmus_ liberally educated, and put him to School when he +was scarce four Years old. (They have in _Holland_, an ill-grounded +Tradition; that _Erasmus_, when he was young, was a dull Boy, and slow +at Learning; but Monsieur _Bayle_ has sufficiently refuted that Error, +tho' were it true, it were no more Dishonour to him, than it was to +_Thomas Aquinas, Suarez_, and others.) He was a Chorister at _Utrecht_, +till he was nine Years old, and afterwards was sent to _Daventer_, his +Mother also going thither to take Care of him. That School was but +barbarous, the most that was minded, was _Matins_, Even-Song, &c. till +_Alexander Hegius_ of _Westphalia_, and _Zinthius_, began to introduce +something of better Literature. (This _Alexander Hegius_, was an +intimate Friend to the learned _Rodolphus Agricola_, who was the first +that brought the _Greek_ Tongue over the Mountains of _Germany_, and was +newly returned out of _Italy_, having learned the _Greek_ Tongue of +him.) _Erasmus_ took his first Taste of solid Learning from some of his +Playfellows, who being older than himself, were under the Instruction of +_Zinthius_: And afterwards he sometimes heard _Hegius_; but that was +only upon holy Days, on which he read publickly, and so rose to be in +the third Class, and made a very good Proficiency: He is said to have +had so happy a Memory, as to be able to repeat all _Terence_ and +_Horace_ by Heart. The Plague at that Time raging violently at +_Daventer_, carry'd off his Mother, when _Erasmus_ was about thirteen +Years of Age; which Contagion increasing more and more every Day, having +swept away the whole Family where he boarded, he returned Home. His +Father _Gerard_ hearing of the Death of his Wife, was so concern'd at +it, that he grew melancholy upon it, fell sick, and died soon after, +neither of them being much above forty Years of Age. He assign'd to his +Son _Erasmus_ three Guardians, whom he esteem'd as trusty Friends, the +Principal of whom was _Peter Winkel_, the Schoolmaster of _Goude_. The +Substance that he left for his Education, had been sufficient for that +Purpose, if his Guardians had discharg'd their Trust faithfully. By them +he was remov'd to _Boisleduc_, tho' he was at that Time fit to have gone +to the University. But the Trustees were against sending him to the +University, because they had design'd him for a Monastick Life. Here he +liv'd (or, as he himself says, rather lost three Years) in a +_Franciscan_ Convent, where one _Rombold_ taught Humanity, who was +exceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Youth, and began to +sollicit him to take the Habit upon him, and become one of their Order. +_Erasmus_ excused himself, alledging the Rawness and Unexperiencedness +of his Age. The Plague spreading in these Parts, and after he had +struggled a whole Year with an Ague, he went Home to his Guardians, +having by this Time furnished himself with an indifferent good Style, by +daily reading the best Authors. One of his Guardians was carried off by +the Plague; the other two not having manag'd his Fortune with the +greatest Care, began to contrive how they might fix him in some +Monastery. _Erasmus_ still languishing under this Indisposition, tho' he +had no Aversion to the Severities of a pious Life, yet he had an +Aversion for a Monastery, and therefore desired Time to consider of the +Matter. In the mean Time his Guardians employ'd Persons to sollicit him, +by fair Speeches, and the Menaces of what he must expect, if he did not +comply, to bring him over. In this Interim they found out a Place for +him in _Sion_, a College of Canons Regulars near _Delft_, which was the +principal House belonging to that Chapter. When the Day came that +_Erasmus_ was to give his final Answer, he fairly told them, he neither +knew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet, what himself +was, and that he thought it more advisable for him to pass a few Years +more at School, till he came to know himself better. _Peter Winkel_ +perceiving that he was unmoveable in this Resolution, fell into a Rage, +telling him, he had taken a great deal of Pains to a fine Purpose +indeed, who had by earnest Sollicitations, provided a good Preferment +for an obstinate Boy, that did not understand his own Interest: And +having given him some hard Words, told him, that from that Time he threw +up his Guardianship, and now he might look to himself. _Erasmus_ +presently reply'd, that he took him at his first Word; that he was now +of that Age, that he thought himself capable of taking Care of himself. +When his Guardian saw that threatening would not do any Thing with him, +he set his Brother Guardian, who was his Tutor, to see what he could do +with him: Thus was _Erasmus_ surrounded by them and their Agents on all +Hands. He had also a Companion that was treacherous to him, and his old +Companion his Ague stuck close to him; but all these would not make a +monastick Life go down with him; till at last, by meer Accident, he +went to pay a Visit at a Monastery of the same Order at _Emaus_ or +_Steyn_ near _Goude_, where he found one _Cornelius_, who had been his +Chamber-fellow at _Daventer_. He had not yet taken the Habit, but had +travelled to _Italy_, and came back without making any great +Improvements in Learning. This _Cornelius_, with all the Eloquence he +was Master of, was continually setting out the Advantages of a religious +Life, the Conveniency of noble Libraries, Retirement from the Hurry of +the World, and heavenly Company, and the like. Some intic'd him on one +Hand, others urg'd him on the other, his Ague stuck close to him, so +that at last he was induc'd to pitch upon this Convent. And after his +Admission he was fed up with great Promises to engage him to take upon +him the holy Cloth. Altho' he was but young, he soon perceived how +vastly short all Things there fell of answering his Expectations; +however, he set the whole Brotherhood to applying their Minds to Study. +Before he professed himself he would have quitted the Monastery; but his +own Modesty, the ill Usage he was treated with, and the Necessities of +his Circumstances, overcame him, so that he did profess himself. Not +long after this, by the means of _Gulielmus Hermannus_ of _Buda_, his +intimate Associate, he had the Honour to be known to _Henry a Bergis_ +Bishop of _Cambray_, who was then in Hopes of obtaining a Cardinal's +Hat, which he had obtained, had not Money been wanting: In order to +sollicit this Affair for him, he had Occasion for one that was Master of +the _Latin_ Tongue; therefore being recommended by the Bishop of +_Utrecht_, he was sent for by him; he had also the Recommendation of the +_Prior_, and General, and was entertained in the Bishop's Family, but +still wore the Habit of his Order: But the Bishop, disappointed in his +Hope of wearing the Cardinal's Hat, _Erasmus_ finding his Patron fickle +and wavering in his Affections, prevail'd with him to send him to +_Paris_, to prosecute his Studies there. He did so, and promised him a +yearly Allowance, but it was never paid him, according to the Custom of +great Men. He was admitted of _Montague_ College there, but by Reason of +ill Diet and a damp Chamber, he contracted an Indisposition of Body, +upon which he return'd to the Bishop, who entertain'd him again +courteously and honourably: Having recover'd his Health, he return'd +into _Holland_, with a Design to settle there; but being again invited, +he went back to _Paris_. But having no Patron to support him, he rather +made a Shift to live (to use his own Expression) than to study there; +and undertook the Tuition of an _English_ Gentleman's two Sons. And the +Plague returning there periodically for many Years, he was obliged every +Year to return into his own Country. At length it raging all the Year +long, he retir'd to _Louvain_. + +After this he visited _England_, going along with a young Gentleman, to +whom he was Tutor, who, as he says himself, was rather his Friend than +his Patron. In _England_ he was received with universal Respect; and, as +he tells us himself in his Life, he won the Affections of all good Men +in our Island. During his Residence here, he was intimately acquainted +with _Sir Thomas More_, _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_, +_John Colet_, Dean of St. _Pauls_, the Founder of St. _Paul's School_, a +Man remarkable for the Regularity of his Life, great Learning and +Magnificence; with _Hugh Latimer_ Bishop of _Winchester_, _Linacre_, +_Grocinus_, and many other honourable and learned Persons, and passed +some Years at _Cambridge_, and is said to have taught there; but whether +this was after his first or second Time of visiting _England_, I do not +determine: However, not meeting with the Preferment he expected, he went +away hence to make a Journey to _Italy_, in the Company of the Sons of +_Baptista Boetius_, a _Genoese_, Royal Professor of Physick in +_England_; which Country, at that Time, could boast of a Set of learned +Men, not much inferior to the _Augustan_ Age: But as he was going to +_France_, it was his ill Fortune, at _Dover_, to be stripp'd of all he +had; this he seems to hint at in his _Colloquy_, intitled, the +_Religious Pilgrimage_: But yet he was so far from revenging the Injury, +by reflecting upon the Nation, that he immediately published a Book in +Praise of the King and Country; which Piece of Generosity gained him no +small Respect in _England_. And it appears by several of his Epistles, +that he honoured _England_ next to the Place of his Nativity. + +It appears by _Epist. 10. Lib. 16_. that when he was in _England_ +Learning flourished very much here, in that he writes, _Apud Anglos +triumphant bonæ Literæ recta Studia_; and in _Epist. 12. Lib. 16_. he +makes no Scruple to equal it to _Italy_ itself; and _Epist. 26. Lib. 6._ +commends the _English_ Nobility for their great Application to all +useful Learning, and entertaining themselves at Table with learned +Discourses, when the Table-Talk of Churchmen was nothing but Ribaldry +and Profaneness. In _Epist_. 10. _Lib_. 5, which he addresses to +_Andrelinus_, he invites him to come into _England_, recommending it as +worth his While, were it upon no other Account, than to see the charming +Beauties with which this Island abounded; and in a very pleasant Manner +describes to him the Complaisance and innocent Freedom of the _English_ +Ladies, telling him, that when he came into a Gentleman's House he was +allowed to salute the Ladies, and also to do the same at taking Leave: +And tho' he seems to talk very feelingly on the Subject, yet makes no +Reflections upon the Virtue of _English_ Women. But to return to him; as +to his Voyage to _Italy_, he prosecuted his Journey to _Turin_, and took +the Degree of Doctor of Divinity in that University; he dwelt a whole +year in _Bolognia_, and there obtain'd a Dispensation from Pope _Julian_ +to put off his Canon's Habit, but upon Condition not to put off the +Habit of Priest; and after that went to _Venice_, where was the +Printing-House of the famous _Manutius Aldus_, and there he published +his Book of _Adagies_, and staying some Time there, wrote several +Treatises, and had the Conversation of many eminent and learned Men. +From thence he went to _Padua_, where at that Time _Alexander_ the Son +of _James_ King of _Scotland_, and Bishop of St. _Andrews_ in +_Scotland_, studied, who chose _Erasmus_ for his Tutor in Rhetorick, and +went to _Seana_, and thence to _Rome_, where his great Merits had made +his Presence expected long before. At _Rome_ he gained the Friendship +and Esteem of the most considerable Persons in the City, was offered the +Dignity of a Penitentiary, if he would have remained there: But he +returned back to the Archbishop, and not long after went with him again +to _Italy_, and travelling farther into the Country, went to _Cuma_, and +visited the Cave of _Sybilla_. After the Death of the Archbishop he +began to think of returning to his own Country, and coming over the +_Rhetian Alps_, went to _Argentorat_, and thence by the Way of the +_Rhine_ into _Holland_, having in his Way visited his Friends at +_Antwerp_ and _Louvain_; but _Henry_ VIII. coming to the Crown of +England, his Friends here, with many Invitations and great Promises, +prevailed upon him to come over to _England_ again, where it was his +Purpose to have settled for the remaining Part of his Life, had he found +Things according to the Expectation they had given him: But how it came +about is uncertain, whether _Erasmus_ was wanting in making his Court +aright to Cardinal _Wolsey_, who at that Time manag'd all Things at his +Pleasure; or, whether it were that the Cardinal look'd with a jealous +Eye upon him, because of his intimate Friendship with _William Warham_, +Archbishop of _Canterbury_, who had taken him into his Favour, between +whom and _Wolsey_ there was continual Clashing, (the Cardinal after he +had been made the Pope's Legate, pretending a Power in the +Archbishoprick of _Canterbury_.) On this Disappointment he left +_England_, and went to _Flanders_; Archbishop _Warham_ had indeed shewed +his Esteem for him, in giving him the Living of _Aldington_. In short, +_Erasmus_ takes Notice of the Friendship between himself and _Warham_ in +the _Colloquy_ called, _The Religious Pilgrimage_. + +As to his Familiarity with Sir _Thomas More_, there are several Stories +related, and especially one concerning the Disputes that had been +between them about _Transubstantiation_, or the _real Presence_ of +Christ in the consecrated Wafer, of which Sir _Thomas_ was a strenuous +Maintainer, and _Erasmus_ an Opponent; of which, when _Erasmus_ saw he +was too strongly byassed to be convinced by Arguments, he at last made +use of the following facetious Retortion on him. It seems in their +Disputes concerning the real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, which +were in _Latin_, Sir _Thomas_ had frequently used this Expression, and +laid the Stress of his Proof upon the Force of Believing, _Crede quod +edis et edis_, _i.e._ Believe you eat [Christ] and you do eat him; +therefore _Erasmus_ answers him, _Crede quod habes et habes, Believe +that you have_ [_your Horse_] _and you have him_. It seems, at +_Erasmus's_ going away, Sir _Thomas_ had lent him his Horse to carry him +to the Sea-side or _Dover_; but he either carried him with him over Sea +to _Holland_, or sent him not back to Sir _Thomas_, at least for some +Time; upon which Sir _Thomas_ writing to _Erasmus_ about his Horse, +_Erasmus_ is said to have written back to him as follows. + + _Ut mihi scripsisti de corpore Christi, + Crede quod edis et edis. + Sic tibi rescribo de tuo Palfrido; + Crede quod habes et habes_. + +Being arriv'd at _Flanders_ by the Interest of _Sylvagius_ Chancellor +to _Charles of Austria_, afterwards Emperor of _Germany_, known by the +name of _Charles_ V: he was made one of his Counsellors. + +In the mean Time _Johannes Frobenius_, a famous Printer, having printed +many of his Works at _Basil_ in _Switzerland_, and being much taken with +the Elegancy of his Printing, and the Neatness of his Edition, he went +thither, pretending that he undertook that Journey for the Performance +of some Vow he had made; he was kindly entertain'd by him, and publish'd +several Books there, and dedicated this his Book of Colloquies to +_Frobenius's_ Son, and resided till the Mass had been put down there by +the Reformers. When he left that Place, he retir'd to _Friburg_ in +_Alsace_. Before his going to _Friburg_, he visited the low Countries to +settle certain Affairs there. And was at _Cologn_ at the Time that the +Assembly was at _Worms_, which being dissolv'd, he went again to +_Basil_, either, as some say, for the Recovery of his Health, or, as +others, for the publishing of several Books. He receiv'd the Bounty and +Munificence of several Kings, Princes, and Popes, and was honourably +entertain'd by many of the chief Cities which he pass'd through. And by +his Procurement, a College of three Languages was instituted at +_Louvain_, at the Charge of _Hieronimus Buslidius_, Governour of _Aria_, +out of certain Monies he at his Death bequeath'd to the use of studious +and learned Men. An Account of which coming to the Ears of _Francis_ +King of _France_, he invited him by Letters to _Paris_, in order, by his +Advice to erect the like College there. But certain Affairs happening, +his Journey thither was hindred. He went to _Friburg_ in _Alsace_, where +he bought him an House, and liv'd seven Years in great Esteem and +Reputation, both with the chief Magistrates and Citizens of the Place, +and all Persons of any Note in the University. But his Distemper, which +was the Gout, coming rudely upon him, he, thinking the Change of Air +would afford him Relief, sold his House, and went again to _Basil_, to +the House of _Frobenius_; but he had not been there above nine Months +before his Gout violently assaulted him, and his strength having +gradually decay'd, he was seized with a Dysentery, under which having +laboured for a Month, it at last overcame him, and he died at the House +of _Jerome Frobenius_, the son of _John_ the famous Printer, the 12th +of _July_ 1536, about Midnight, being about seventy Years of Age: After +his last retreat to _Basil_, he went seldom abroad; and for some of the +last Months stirred not out of his Chamber. He retained a sound Mind, +even to the last Moments of his Life; and, as a certain Author saith, +bid Farewell to the World, and passed into the State of another Life, +after the Manner of a Protestant, without the Papistical Ceremonies of +Rosaries, Crosses, Confession, Absolution, or receiving the +transubstantiated Wafer, and in one Word, not desiring to have any of +the _Romish_ Superstitions administered, but according to the true Tenor +of the Gospel, taking Sanctuary in nothing but the Mercies of God in +Christ. And finding himself near Death, he gave many Testimonies of +Piety and Christian Hope in God's Mercy, and oftentimes cry'd out in the +_German_ Language, _Liever Godt_, _i.e._ dear God; often repeating, O +Jesus have Mercy on me! O Lord, deliver me! Lord, put an End to my +Misery! Lord, have Mercy upon me. + +In his last Will, he made the celebrated Lawyer _Bonifacius Amerbachius_ +his Executor, bequeathing the greatest Part of his Substance to +charitable Uses; as for the Maintenance of such as were poor and +disabled through Age or Sickness; for the Marrying of poor young +Virgins, to keep them from Temptations to Unchastity; for the +maintaining hopeful Students in the University, and such like charitable +Uses. In the overseeing of his Will, he join'd with _Amerbachius_, two +others, _Jerome Frobenius_, and _Nicholas Episcopius_, who were his +intimate Friends, and whom a certain Author says, had then espoused the +Reformation began by _Luther_ and other Reformers. The city of _Basil_ +still pays _Erasmus_ the Respect which is due to the Memory of so +eminent a Person; they not only call'd one of the Colleges there after +his Name, but shew the House where he died to Strangers, with as much +Veneration as the People of _Roterdam_ do the House where he was born. + +I shall not here pretend to give a Catalogue of all _Erasmus's_ genuine +Pieces, which they shew at _Basil_: As to his Colloquies and _Moria +Encomium_, they have seen more Editions than any other of his Works; and +_Moreri_ says, that a Bookseller at _Paris_, who thoroughly understood +his Trade, sold twenty four thousand of them at one Impression, by +getting it whisper'd to his Customers, that the Book was prohibited, and +would suddenly be call'd in. + +He was buried at _Basil_, in the Cathedral Church, on the left Side near +the Choir, in a Marble Tomb; on the fore Side of which was this +Inscription: + + CHRISTO SERVATORIS. + DESID. ERASMO ROTERODAMO. + + _Viro_ omnibus modis maximo; + + Cujus incomparabilem in omni disciplinarum genere eruditionem, + pari conjunctam prudentia, + + _Posteri_ et admirabuntur et prædicabunt + + BONIFACIUS AMERBACHIUS, HIERONYMUS FROBENIUS, + NICHOLAS EPISCOPIUS Hæredes, + + Et nuncupati supremæ suæ voluntatis _vindices_ + + _Patrono optimo_, + + non _Memoriæ_, quam immortalem sibi Editis Lucubrationibus + comparavit, iis, tantisper dum orbis Terrarum stabit, superfuturo, + ac eruditis ubique gentium colloquuturo: sed _Corporis + Mortalis_, quo reconditum sit ergo, hoc saxum posuere. + + Mortuus est IV. Eidus Julias jam septuagenarius, Anno à + Christo nato, M.D. XXXVI. + +Upon the upper Part of the Tomb is a quadrangular Base, upon which +stands the Effigies of the Deity of _Terminus_, which _Erasmus_ chose +for the Impress of his Seal, and on the Front of that Base is this +Inscription. + + DES. ERASMUM ROTERODAMUM _Amici_ sub hoc saxo condebant, + + IV, eid. Julias M.D. XXXVI. + +In the Year 1549, a wooden Statue, in Honour of so great a Man, was +erected in the Market-place at _Roterdam_; and in the Year 1557, a Stone +one was erected in the Stead of it; but this having been defaced by the +_Spaniards_ in the Year 1572, as soon as the Country had recovered its +Liberty it was restored again. But in the Year 1622, instead of it, a +very compleat one of Brass eight Foot high with the Pedestal, was +erected, which is now standing on the Bridge at _Roterdam_, and likely +long to remain there, on the Foot of which is the following Inscription. + + DESIDERIO ERASMO MAGNO, + + Scientiarum atque Literature politioris _vindici et + instauratori_: _Viro_ sæculi sui _Primario_, _civi_ + omnium præstantissimo, ac nominis immortalitatem scriptis + æviternis jure _consecuto_, S.P.Q. ROTERODAMUS. + + Ne quod tantis apud se suosque posteros _virtutibus_ + præmium deesset, _Statuam_ hanc ex sere publico erigendam + curaverunt. + + +On the right Side are these Verses of _Nicholas Heinsius_. + + _Barbariæ talem se debellator_ Erasmus, + _Maxima laus Batavi nominis, ore tulit. + Reddidit, en, fatis, Ars obluctata sinistris, + De tanto spolium nacta quod urna viro est. + Ingenii cæleste jubar, majusque caduco + Tempore qui reddat, solus_ Erasmus _erit_. + +On the left Side, and behind, there is an Inscription in the _Dutch_ +Language, much to the Purport of the first Inscription. On the House +where _Erasmus_ was born, formerly was this Inscription. + + _Hæc est parva Domus, magnus quâ natus_ Erasmus. + +The same House being rebuilt and enlarged, has the following +Inscription. + + _Ædibus his ortus Mundum decoravit_ Erasmus, + _Artibus ingenuis, Religione, Fide_. + +As for his Stature, he was neither very low nor very tall, his Body well +set, proportioned and handsome, neither fat nor lean, but of a nice and +tender Constitution, and easily put out of Order with the least +Deviation from his ordinary Way of Living; he had from his Childhood so +great an Aversion to eating of Fish, that he never attempted it without +the Danger of his Life, and therefore obtain'd a Dispensation from the +Pope from eating Fish in _Lent_, as appears by the Story of _Eras_, (as +he stiles himself) in the Colloquy call'd _Ichthyophagia_. He was of a +fair and pale Complexion, had a high Forehead, his Hair, in his younger +Years, inclining to yellow, his Nose pretty long, a little thick at the +End, his Mouth something large, but not ill made, his Eyes grey but +lively, his Countenance chearful and pleasant, his Voice small, but +musical, his Speech distinct and plain, pleasant and jocose, his Gaite +handsome and grave; he had a, most happy Memory and acute Wit, he was +very constant to his Friend, and exceeding liberal to those that were +under Necessity, especially to studious and hopeful Youths, and to such +as were destitute in their Journey: In his Conversation he was very +pleasant and affable, free from peevish and morose Humours, but very +witty and satyrical. It is related, that when _Erasmus_ was told, that +_Luther_ had married and gotten the famous _Catharine Bora_ with Child, +he should in a jesting Manner say, that, if according to the popular +Tradition, _Antichrist_ was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, the +World was in a fair Way now to have a Litter of Antichrists. + +I shall conclude with the Character given of _Erasmus_ by Mr. _Thomas +Brown_, who comparing him with _Lucian_, says, That whereas _Erasmus_ +had translated Part of his Dialogues into _Latin_, he had made _Lucian_ +the Pattern of his Colloquies, and had copied his Graces with that +Success, that it is difficult to say which of the two was the Original. + +That both of them had an equal Aversion to austere, sullen, designing +Knaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever. That both of +them were Men of Wit and Satyr, but that _Erasmus_, according to the +Genius of his Country, had more of the Humourist in him than _Lucian_, +and in all Parts of Learning was infinitely his Superior. That _Lucian_ +liv'd in an Age, when Fiction and Fable had usurp'd the Name of +Religion, and Morality was debauch'd by a Set of sowr Scoundrels, Men of +Beard and Grimace, but scandalously lewd and ignorant, who yet had the +Impudence to preach up Virtue, and stile themselves Philosophers, +perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of their +several Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if it is +possible, about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in a +different Way, to dupe and amuse the poor People by the fantastick +Singularity of their Habits, the unintelligible Jargon of their Schools, +and their Pretentions to a severe and mortified Life. This motly Herd of +Jugglers _Lucian_ in a great Measure help'd to chase out of the World, +by exposing them in their proper Colours. + +But in a few Generations after him, a new Generation sprung up in the +World, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from the +former in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in the +main, the same individual Imposters; the same everlasting +Cobweb-Spinners as to their nonsensical Controversies, the same +abandon'd Rakehells as to their Morals; but as for the mysterious Arts +of heaping up Wealth, and picking the Peoples Pockets, as much superior +to their Predecessors the _Pagan_ Philosophers, as an overgrown +Favourite that cheats a whole Kingdom, is to a common Malefactor. + +These were the sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices _Erasmus_ has +so effectually lash'd, that some Countries have entirely turn'd these +Drones out of their Cells, and in other Places where they are still +kept, they are grown contemptible to the highest Degree, and oblig'd to +be always upon their Guard. + + + + +THE + +_Familiar Colloquies_ + +OF + +DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, + +OF + +_ROTERDAM_. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Courtesy and Civility in Saluting, + who, when, and by what Title we ought to Salute_. + + +_At the First Meeting_. + +A Certain Person teaches, and not without Reason, that we should Salute +freely. For a courteous and kind Salutation oftentimes engages +Friendship, and reconciles Persons at Variance, and does undoubtedly +nourish and increase a mutual Benevolence. There are indeed some Persons +that are such Churls, and of so clownish a Disposition, that if you +salute them, they will scarcely salute you again. But this Vice is in +some Persons rather the Effect of their Education, than their natural +Disposition. + +It is a Piece of Civility to salute those that come in your Way; either +such as come to us, or those that we go to speak with. And in like +Manner such as are about any Sort of Work, either at Supper, or that +yawn, or hiccop, or sneeze, or cough. But it is the Part of a Man that +is civil even to an Extreme, to salute one that belches, or breaks Wind +backward. But he is uncivilly civil that salutes one that is making +Water, or easing Nature. + +God save you Father, God save you little Mother, God save you Brother, +God save you my worthy Master, God save you heartily Uncle, God save you +sweet Cousin. + +It is courteous to make Use of a Title of Relation or Affinity, unless +when it carries something of a Reflection along with it, then indeed it +is better not to use such Titles, tho' proper; but rather some that are +more engaging, as when we call a Mother in Law, Mother; a Son in Law, +Son; a Father in Law, Father; a Sister's Husband, Brother; a Brother's +Wife, Sister: And the same we should do in Titles, either of Age or +Office. For it will be more acceptable to salute an antient Man by the +Name of Father, or venerable Sir, than by the Sirname of Age; altho' in +antient Times they used to make use of [Greek: hô geron], as an +honourable Title. God save you Lieutenant, God save you Captain; but not +God save you Hosier or Shoe-maker. God save you Youth, or young Man. Old +Men salute young Men that are Strangers to them by the Name of Sons, and +young Men again salute them by the Name of Fathers or Sirs. + + +_A more affectionate Salutation between Lovers_. + +God save you my little _Cornelia_, my Life, my Light, my Delight, my +Sweet-heart, my Honey, my only Pleasure, my little Heart, my Hope, my +Comfort, my Glory. + + +_Either for the Sake of Honour or otherwise_. + +_Sal._ O Master, God bless ye. + +_Ans._ Oh! Good Sir, I wish you the same. + +_Sal._ God bless you most accomplish'd, and most famous Sir. God bless +you again and again thou Glory of Learning. God save you heartily my +very good Friend. God save you my _Mæcenas_. + +_Ans._ God save you my Singular Patron, God save you most approv'd Sir. +God save you, the only Ornament of this Age. God bless you, the Delight +of _Germany_. + +_Sal._ God bless you all together. God bless you all alike. + +_Ans._ God bless you my brave Boys. + +_Sal._ God save you merry Companion. God bless you Destroyer of Wine. + +_Ans._ God bless you Glutton, and unmerciful Devourer of Cakes. + +_Sal._ God bless you heartily President of all Virtue. + +_Ans._ God bless you in like Manner, Pattern of universal Honesty. + +_Sal._ God save you little old Woman of Fifteen Years of Age. + +_Ans._ God save you Girl, eighty Years old. + +_Sal._ Much good may it do you with your bald Pate. + +_Ans._ And much good may it do you with your slit Nose. As you salute, +so you shall be saluted again. If you say that which is ill, you shall +hear that which is worse. + +_Sal._ God save you again and again. + +_Ans._ God save you for ever and ever. + +_Sal._ God save you more than a thousand Times. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather be well once for all. + +_Sal._ God bless you as much as you can desire. + +_Ans._ And you as much as you deserve. + +_Sal._ I wish you well. + +_Ans._ But what if I won't be so? In truth I had rather be sick, than to +enjoy the Health that you want. + +God bless your Holiness, Your Greatness, Your Highness, Your Majesty, +Your Beatitude, Your High Mightiness, are Salutations rather us'd by the +Vulgar, than approv'd by the Learned. + + +_In the Third Person_. + +_Sapidus_ wishes Health to his _Erasmus_. + +_Sapidus_ salutes his _Beatus_, wishing him much Health. + + * * * * * + +_Another Form_. + +_Sal._ God bless you _Crito_, I wish you well good Sir. + +_Ans._ And I wish you better. Peace be to thee Brother, is indeed a +Christian Salutation, borrow'd from the _Jews_: but yet not to be +rejected. And of the like Kind is, A happy Life to you. + +_Sal._ Hail Master. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather have than crave. + +_Sal._ [Greek: Chaire]. + +_Ans._ Remember you are at _Basil_, and not _Athens_. + +_Sal._ How do you then dare to speak _Latin_ when you are not at _Rome_? + + * * * * * + +_Forms of well Wishing_. + +And to wish well is a Sort of Salutation. + + +_To a Woman with Child_. + +God send you a good Delivery, and that you may make your Husband Father +of a fine Child. May the Virgin Mother make you a happy Mother. I wish +that this swell'd Belly may asswage happily. Heaven grant that this +Burthen you carry, whatsoever it is, may have as easy an out-coming as +it had an in-going. God give you a good Time. + + +_To Guests_. + +Happy be this Feast. Much good may it do all the Company. I wish all +Happiness to you all. God give you a happy Banquet. + +_To one that sneezes._ + +May it be lucky and happy to you. God keep you. May it be for your +Health. God bless it to you. + +_To one that is about to begin any Business._ + +May it prove happy and prosperous for the Publick Good. May that you are +going about be an universal Good. God prosper what you are about. God +bless your Labours. God bless your Endeavours. I pray that by God's +Assistance you may happily finish what you have begun. May Christ in +Heaven prosper what is under your Hand. May what you have begun end +happily. May what you are set about end happily. You are about a good +Work, I wish you a good End of it, and that propitious Heaven may favour +your pious Undertakings. Christ give Prosperity to your Enterprise. May +what you have undertaken prosper. I heartily beg of Almighty God that +this Design may be as successful as it is honourable. May the Affair so +happily begun, more happily end. I wish you a good Journey to _Italy_, +and a better Return. I wish you a happy Voyage, and a more happy Return. +I pray God that, this Journey being happily perform'd, we may in a short +Time have the Opportunity of congratulating you upon your happy Return. +May it be your good Fortune to make a good Voyage thither and back +again. May your Journey be pleasant, but your Return more pleasant. I +wish this Journey may succeed according to your Heart's Desire. I wish +this Journey may be as pleasant to you, as the want of your good Company +in the mean Time will be troublesome to us. May you set Sail with +promising Presages. I wish this Journey may succeed according to both +our Wishes. I wish this Bargain may be for the Good and Advantage of us +both. I wish this may be a happy Match to us all. The blessed Jesus God +keep thee. Kind Heaven return you safe. God keep thee who art one Half +of my Life. I wish you a safe Return. I wish that this New-Year may +begin happily, go on more happily, and end most happily to you, and +that you may have many of them, and every Year happier than other. + +_Ans._ And I again wish you many happy Ages, that you mayn't wish well +to me _gratis_. + +_Sal._ I wish you a glorious Day to Day. May this Sun-rising be a happy +one to you. + +_Ans._ I wish you the same. May this be a happy and a prosperous Morning +to both of us. + +_Sal._ Father, I wish you a good Night. I wish you good Repose to Night. +May you sleep sweetly. God give you good Rest. May you sleep without +dreaming. God send you may either sleep sweetly or dream pleasantly. A +good Night to you. + +_Ans._ Since you always love to be on the getting Hand, I wish you a +thousand Happinesses to one you wish to me. + + * * * * * + +_Farewell at parting._ + +Fare ye all well. Farewell. Take care of your Health. Take a great Care +of your Health. I bid you good by, Time calls me away, fare ye well. I +wish you as well as may be. Farewell mightily, or if you had rather have +it so, lustily. Fare you well as you are worthy. Fare you as well as you +deserve. Farewell for these two Days. If you send me away, farewell till +to-morrow. Would you have any Thing with me? Have you any Thing else to +say to me? + +_Ans._ Nothing but to wish you well. + +_Sal._ Take Care to preserve your Health. Take Care of your Health. Look +well to your Health. See that at the next Meeting we see you merry and +hearty. I charge you make much of your self. See that you have a sound +Mind in a healthful Body. Take Care you be universally well both in Body +and Mind. + +_Ans._ I'll promise you I will do my Endeavour. Fare you well also; and +I again wish you prosperous Health. + +_Of saluting by another._ + +Remember my hearty Love to _Frobenius_. Be sure to remember my Love to +little _Erasmus_. Remember me to _Gertrude's_ Mother with all imaginable +Respect; tell them I wish 'em all well. Remember me to my old +Companions. Remember me to my Friends. Give my Love to my Wife. Remember +me to your Brother in your Letter. Remember my Love to my Kinsman. Have +you any Service to command by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Tell them I wish them all heartily well. + +_Sal._ Have you any Recommendations to send by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Much Health to them all, but especially to my Father. + +_Sal._ Are there any Persons to whom you would command me any Service? + +_Ans._ To all that ask how I do. The Health you have brought from my +Friends to me, carry back again with much Interest. Carry my hearty +Service to all them that have sent their Service to me. Pray do so much +as be my Representative in saluting my Friends. I would have written to +my Son in Law, but you will serve me instead of a Letter to him. + +_Sal._ Soho, soho, whither are you going so fast? + +_Ans._ Strait to _Louvain_. + +_Sal._ Stay a little, I have something to send by you. + +_Ans._ But it is inconvenient for a Footman to carry a Fardel? What is +it? + +_Sal._ That you recommend me to _Goclenius, Rutgerus, John Campensis_, +and all the Society of Trilinguists. + +_Ans._ If you put nothing into my Snapsack but Healths, I shall carry +them with Ease. + +_Sal._ And that you may not do that for nothing, I pray that Health may +be your Companion both going and coming back. + + +_How we ought to congratulate one that is return'd from a Journey._ + +We are glad you are come well Home. It is a Pleasure that you are come +Home safe. It is a Pleasure to us that you are come well Home. We +congratulate your happy Return. We give God Thanks that you are come +safe Home to us. The more uneasy we were at the Want of you, the more +glad we are to see you again. We congratulate you and ourselves too that +you are come Home to us alive and well. Your Return is the more pleasant +by how much it was less expected. + +_Ans._ I am glad too that as I am well myself I find you so. I am very +glad to find you in good Health. I should not have thought myself well +come Home if I had not found you well; but now I think myself safe, in +that I see you safe and in good Health. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking Questions at the first meeting._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Forms of enquiring at the first + meeting. Whence come you? What News bring you? How do you + do? &c._ + + +_GEORGE, LIVINUS._ + +_George._ Out of what Hen-Coop or Cave came you? + +_Liv._ Why do you ask me such a Question? + +_Ge._ Because you have been so poorly fed; you are so thin a Body may +see thro' you, and as dry as a Kecks. Whence came you from? + +_Liv._ From Montacute College. + +_Ge._ Then sure you are come loaden with Letters for us. + +_Liv._ Not so, but with Lice I am. + +_Ge._ Well then you had Company enough. + +_Liv._ In truth it is not safe for a Traveller now a Days to go without +Company. + +_Ge._ I know well enough a Louse is a Scholar's Companion. Well but do +you bring any News from _Paris_? + +_Liv._ Ay, I do, and that in the first Place that I know you won't +believe. At _Paris_ a _Bete_ is wise, and an _Oak_ preaches. + +_Ge._ What's that you tell me? + +_Liv._ That which you hear. + +_Ge._ What is it I hear? + +_Liv._ That which I tell you. + +_Ge._ O monstrous! Sure Mushrooms and Stones must be the Hearers where +there are such Preachers. + +_Liv._ Well, but it is even so as I tell you, nor do I speak only by +hear say, but what I know to be true. + +_Ge._ Sure Men must needs be very wise there where _Betes_ and _Oaks_ +are so. + +_Liv._ You are in the right on't. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring concerning Health._ + +_Ge._ Are you well? + +_Liv._ Look in my Face. + +_Ge._ Why do you not rather bid me cast your Water? Do you take me for a +Doctor? I don't ask you if you are in Health, for your Face bespeaks you +so to be; but I ask you how you like your own Condition? + +_Liv._ I am very well in my Body, but sick in my Mind. + +_Ge._ He's not well indeed that is sick in that Part. + +_Liv._ This is my Case, I'm well in my Body, but sick in my Pocket. + +_Ge._ Your Mother will easily cure that Distemper. How have you done for +this long Time? + +_Liv._ Sometimes better, and sometimes worse, as human Affairs commonly +go. + +_Ge._ Are you very well in health? Are your Affairs in a good +Condition? Are your Circumstances as you would have them? Have you +always had your Health well? + +_Liv._ Very well, I thank God. By God's Goodness I have always had my +Health very well. I have always been very well hitherto. I have been in +very good, favourable, secure, happy, prosperous, successful, perfect +Health, like a Prince, like a Champion, fit for any Thing. + +_Ge._ God send you may always enjoy the same. I am glad to hear it. You +give me a Pleasure in saying so. It is very pleasant to me to hear that. +I am glad at my Heart to hear this from you. This is no bad News to me. +I am exceeding glad to hear you say so. I wish you may be so always. I +wish you may enjoy the same Health as long as you live. In +congratulating you, I joy myself, Thanks to Heaven for it. + +_Li._ Indeed I am very well if you are so. + +_Ge._ Well, but have you met with no Trouble all this while? + +_Li._ None but the Want of your good Company. + +_Ge._ Well, but how do you do though? + +_Li._ Well enough, finely, bravely, very well as may be, very well +indeed, happily, commodiously, no Way amiss. I enjoy rather what Health +I wish, than what I deserved, Princely, Herculean, Champion-like. + +_Ge._ I was expecting when you would say Bull-like too. + + * * * * * + +_Of being Ill._ + +_Ge._ Are you in good Health? + +_Li._ I wish I were. Not altogether so well as I would be. Indeed I am +so, so. Pretty well. I am as well as I can be, since I can't be so well +as I would be. As I use to be. So as it pleases God. Truly not very +well. Never worse in all my Life. As I am wont to be. I am as they use +to be who have to do with the Doctor. + +_Ge._ How do you do? + +_Li._ Not as I would do. + +_Ge._ Why truly not well, ill, very ill, in an unhappy, unprosperous, +unfavourable, bad, adverse, unlucky, feeble, dubious, indifferent, State +of Health, not at all as I would, a tolerable, such as I would not wish +even to my Enemies. + +_Ge._ You tell me a melancholy Story. Heavens forbid it. God forbid. No +more of that I pray. I wish what you say were not true. But you must be +of good Chear, you must pluck up a good Heart. A good Heart is a good +Help in bad Circumstances. You must bear up your Mind with the Hope of +better Fortune. What Distemper is it? What Sort of Disease is it? What +Distemper is it that afflicts you? What Distemper are you troubled with? + +_Li._ I can't tell, and in that my Condition is the more dangerous. + +_Ge._ That's true, for when the Disease is known, it is half cured. Have +you had the Advice of any Doctor? + +_Li._ Ay, of a great many. + +_Ge._ What do they say to your Case? + +_Li._ What the Lawyers of _Demiphon_ (in the Play) said to him. One says +one Thing, another he says another, and the third he'll consider of it. +But they all agree in this, that I am in a sad Condition. + +_Ge._ How long have you been taken with this Illness? How long have you +been ill of this Distemper? How long has this Illness seiz'd you? + +_Li._ About twenty Days more or less, almost a Month. It's now near +three Months. It seems an Age to me since I was first taken ill. + +_Ge._ But I think you ought to take care that the Distemper don't grow +upon you. + +_Li._ It has grown too much upon me already. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dropsy? + +_Li._ They say it is not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dissentery? + +_Li._ I think not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Fever? + +_Li._ I believe it is a Kind of Fever; but a new one, as ever and anon +new ones spring up that were unknown before. + +_Ge._ There were more old ones than enough before. + +_Li._ Thus it pleases Nature to deal with us, which is a little too +severe. + +_Ge._ How often does the Fit come? + +_Li._ How often do you say? Every Day, nay every Hour indeed. + +_Ge._ O wonderful! It is a sad Affliction. How did you get this +Distemper? How do you think you came by it? + +_Li._ By Reason of Want. + +_Ge._ Why you don't use to be so superstitious as to starve yourself +with Fasting. + +_Li._ It is not Bigotry but Penury. + +_Ge._ What do you mean by Penury? + +_Li._ I mean I could get no Victuals, I believe it came by a Cold. I +fancy I got the Distemper by eating rotten Eggs. By drinking too much +Water in my Wine. This Crudity in my Stomach came by eating green +Apples. + +_Ge._ But consider whether you han't contracted this Distemper by long +and late Studying, by hard Drinking, or immoderate use of Venery? Why +don't you send for a Doctor? + +_Li._ I am afraid he should do me more Harm than good. I am afraid he +should poison me instead of curing me. + +_Ge._ You ought to chuse one that you can confide in. + +_Li._ If I must dye, I had rather dye once for all, than to be tormented +with so many Slops. + +_Ge._ Well then, be your own Doctor. If you can't trust to a Doctor, +pray God be your Physician. There have been some that have recover'd +their Health, by putting on a Dominican or a Franciscan Fryars Cowl. + +_Li._ And perhaps it had been the same Thing, if they had put on a +Whore-master's Cloak. These things have no Effect upon those that have +no Faith in 'em. + +_Ge._ Why then, believe that you may recover. Some have been cur'd by +making Vows to a Saint. + +_Li._ But I have no Dealings with Saints. + +_Ge._ Then pray to Christ that you may have Faith, and that he would be +pleased to bestow the Blessing of Health upon you. + +_Li._ I can't tell whether it would be a Blessing or no. + +_Ge._ Why, is it not a Blessing to be freed from a Distemper? + +_Li._ Sometimes it is better to dye. I ask nothing of him, but only that +he'd give me what would be best for me. + +_Ge._ Take something to purge you. + +_Li._ I am laxative enough already. + +_Ge._ Take something to make you go to Stool. You must take a Purge. + +_Li._ I ought to take something that is binding rather, for I am too +laxative. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring of a Person upon his Return_. + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Of interrogating a Person returning from a Journey, + concerning War, private Affairs, a Disappointment, great + Promises, a Wife Lying-in, Dangers, Losses_, &c. + + +_George._ Have you had a good and prosperous Journey? + +_Li._ Pretty good; but that there is such Robbing every where. + +_Ge._ This is the Effect of War. + +_Li._ It is so, but it is a wicked one. + +_Ge._ Did you come on Foot or on Horse-back? + +_Li._ Part of the Way a Foot, Part in a Coach, Part on Horse-back, and +Part by Sea. + +_Ge._ How go Matters in _France?_ + +_Li._ All's in Confusion, there's nothing but War talk'd of. What +Mischiefs they may bring upon their Enemies I know not; but this I'm +sure of, the _French_ themselves are afflicted with unexpressible +Calamities. + +_Ge._ Whence come all these tumultuary Wars? + +_Li._ Whence should they come but from the Ambition of Monarchs? + +_Ge._ But it would be more their Prudence to appease these Storms of +human Affairs. + +_Li._ Appease 'em! Ay, so they do, as the South Wind does the Sea. They +fancy themselves to be Gods, and that the World was made for their +Sakes. + +_Ge._ Nay, rather a Prince was made for the Good of the Commonwealth, +and not the Commonwealth for the Sake of the Prince. + +_Li._ Nay, there are Clergymen too, who blow up the Coals, and sound an +Alarm to these Tumults. + +_Ge._ I'd have them set in the Front of the Battel. + +_Li._ Ay, ay, but they take Care to keep out of Harm's Way. + +_Ge._ But let us leave these publick Affairs to Providence. How go your +own Matters? + +_Li._ Very well, happily, indifferently well, tolerably. + +_Ge._ How goes it with your own Business? As you would have it? + +_Li._ Nay, better than I could have wish'd for, better than I deserve, +beyond what I could have hop'd for. + +_Ge._ Are all Things according to your Mind? Is all well? Has every +Thing succeeded? + +_Li._ It can't be worse. It is impossible it should be worse than it is. + +_Ge._ What then, han't you got what you sought for? Han't you caught the +Game you hunted? + +_Li._ Hunt! Ay, I did hunt indeed, but with very ill Success. + +_Ge._ But is there no Hope then? + +_Li._ Hope enough, but nothing else. + +_Ge._ Did the Bishop give you no Hopes? + +_Li._ Yes, whole Cart Loads, and whole Ship Loads of Hope; but nothing +else. + +_Ge._ Has he sent you nothing yet? + +_Li._ He promis'd me largely, but he has never sent me a Farthing. + +_Ge._ Then you must live in Hopes. + +_Li._ Ay, but that won't fill the Belly; they that feed upon Hope may be +said to hang, but not to live. + +_Ge._ But however then, you were the lighter for travelling, not having +your Pockets loaded. + +_Li._ I confess that, nay, and safer too; for an empty Pocket is the +best Defence in the World against Thieves; but for all that, I had +rather have the Burthen and the Danger too. + +_Ge._ You was not robb'd of any Thing by the Way, I hope? + +_Li._ Robb'd! What can you rob a Man of that has nothing? There was more +Reason for other Folks to be afraid of me, than I of them, having never +a Penny in my Pocket. I might sing and be starved all the Way I went. +Have you anything more to say? + +_Ge._ Where are you going now? + +_Li._ Strait Home, to see how all do there, whom I han't seen this long +Time. + +_Ge._ I wish you may find all well at Home. + +_Li._ I pray God I may. Has any Thing new happen'd at our House since I +went away? + +_Ge._ Nothing but only you'll find your Family bigger than it was; for +your _Catulla_ has brought you a little _Catulus_ since you have been +gone. Your Hen has laid you an Egg. + +_Li._ That's good News, I like your News, and I'll promise to give you a +Gospel for it. + +_Ge._ What Gospel? The Gospel according to St. _Matthew_? + +_Li._ No, but according to _Homer_. Here take it. + +_Ge._ Keep your Gospel to yourself, I have Stones enough at Home. + +_Li._ Don't slight my Present, it is the Eagle's Stone; It is good for +Women with Child; it is good to bring on their Labour. + +_Ge._ Say you so? Then it is a very acceptable Present to me, and I'll +endeavour to make you Amends. + +_Li._ The Amends is made already by your kind Acceptance. + +_Ge._ Nay, nothing in the World could come more seasonably, for my +Wife's Belly is up to her Mouth almost. + +_Li._ Then I'll make this Bargain with you; that if she has a Boy, you +will let me be the Godfather. + +_Ge._ Well I'll promise you that, and that you shall name it too. + +_Li._ I wish it may be for both our Good. + +_Ge._ Nay, for all our Good. + + * * * * * + +_MAURICE, CYPRIAN._ + +_Ma._ You are come back fatter than you used to be: You are returned +taller. + +_Cy._ But in Truth I had rather it had been wiser, or more learned. + +_Ma._ You had no Beard when you went away; but you have brought a little +one back with you. You are grown somewhat oldish since you went away. +What makes you look so pale, so lean, so wrinkled? + +_Cy._ As is my Fortune, so is the Habit of my Body. + +_Ma._ Has it been but bad then? + +_Cy._ She never is otherwise to me, but never worse in my Life than now. + +_Ma._ I am sorry for that. I am sorry for your Misfortune. But pray, +what is this Mischance? + +_Cy._ I have lost all my Money. + +_Ma._ What in the Sea? + +_Cy._ No, on Shore, before I went abroad. + +_Ma._ Where? + +_Cy._ Upon the _English_ Coast. + +_Ma._ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your +Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of +Money. + +_Cy._ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost. + +_Ma._ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation +very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or +another. But how came it about? + +_Cy._ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the +Devil would have it. + +_Ma._ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as +they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him +that carries them. + +_Cy._ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in +Perplexity. + + * * * * * + +_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS._ + +_Cl._ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_. + +_Ba._ And I to see you alive _Claudius_. + +_Cl._ You are welcome Home into your own Country again. + +_Ba._ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_. + +_Cl._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because they are all up in Arms there. + +_Cl._ But what have Scholars to do with Arms? + +_Ba._ But there they don't spare even Scholars. + +_Cl._ It is well you're got off safe. + +_Ba._ But I did not get off without Danger neither. + +_Cl._ You are come back quite another Man than you went away. + +_Ba._ How so? + +_Cl._ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man. + +_Ba._ Why, was I a Capon when I went away? + +_Cl._ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a +_French_ Man. + +_Ba._ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen. +But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_ +Man. + +_Cl._ Have you learn'd to speak _French?_ + +_Ba._ Indifferently well. + +_Cl._ How did you learn it? + +_Ba._ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you. + +_Cl._ From whom. + +_Ba._ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves. + +_Cl._ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce +the _French_ well? + +_Ba._ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode. + +_Cl._ Then you will never write good Verses. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Cl._ Because you'll make false Quantities. + +_Ba._ The Quality is enough for me. + +_Cl._ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague? + +_Ba._ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon +it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again. + +_Cl._ Is not War itself Plague enough? + +_Ba._ It is so, unless God thought otherwise. + +_Cl._ Sure Bread must be very dear there. + +_Ba._ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every +Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there. + +_Cl._ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the +_Germans_? + +_Ba._ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to +the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War. + +_Cl._ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert +ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a +little Business that calls me to another Place. + + + + +_FAMILY DISCOURSE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of + intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of + familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad, + and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking + concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure, + the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely + Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard, + &c._ + + +PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS. + +_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door? + +_Mi._ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be +some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast +brought? + +_Pe._ Myself. + +_Mi._ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth. + +_Pe._ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal. + +_Mi._ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again. + +_Pe._ But is _Jodocus_ at Home? + +_Mi._ I can't tell, but I'll go see. + +_Pe._ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now. + +_Mi._ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy. + +_Pe._ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home? + +_Jo._ No, I am not. + +_Pe._ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak? + +_Jo._ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it +lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself. + +_Pe._ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind. + +_Jo._ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body, +but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you. + +_Pe._ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail. + +_Jo._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a +lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows +to your Seat. + +_Jo._ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and +if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept +me from going abroad. + +_Pe._ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how +charming pleasant it is. + +_Jo._ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it. + +_Pe._ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine +Weather. + +_Jo._ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us. + +_Pe._ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then. + +_Jo._ What if we should get Hugh? + +_Pe._ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo._ + +_Jo._ Come on then, I like it mighty well. + +_Pe._ What if we should call _Alardus?_ + +_Jo._ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll +make up in Talking. + +_Pe._ If you will, we'll get _Nævius_ along with us too. + +_Jo._ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the +Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place. + +_Pe._ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a +Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of +Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves. + +_Jo._ You promise nobly. + +_Pe._ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your +Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study. + +_Jo._ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love. + +_Pe._ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live +pleasantly. + +_Jo._ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study. + +_Pe._ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to +Death. + +_Pe._ Has this Walk pleas'd you? + +_Jo._ It has been a charming pleasant one. + + + * * * * * + + +_2. GILES, LEONARD._ + + +_Gi._ Where is our Leonard a going? + +_Le._ I was coming to you. + +_Gi._ That you do but seldom. + +_Le._ Why so? + +_Gi._ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months. + +_Le._ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome. + +_Gi._ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the +oftner you come the more welcome you are. + +_Le._ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House. + +_Gi._ Why truly not many Things as I would have them. + +_Le._ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet? + +_Gi._ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too. + +_Le._ How, two at once! + +_Gi._ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again. + +_Le._ That's the Way to increase your Family. + +_Gi._ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife +does my Family. + +_Le._ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet? + +_Gi._ No, not yet. + +_Le._ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a +great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her. + +_Gi._ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already. + +_Le._ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like +the best of them? + +_Gi._ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my +Daughter won't hear of marrying. + +_Le._ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for +some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for +Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While. + +_Gi._ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's +in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old. + +_Le._ But why is she averse to Marriage? + +_Gi._ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ. + +_Le._ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil +Genius that lives chastly with a Husband? + +_Gi._ I don't think so. + +_Le._ How came that Whimsey into her Head? + +_Gi._ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that +can be said to her. + +_Le._ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or +draw her away. + +_Gi._ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of +Cattel as far from my House as I can. + +_Le._ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have +her Humour? + +_Gi._ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter +her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her +Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight +against the Monks. + +_Le._ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her +Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is +too late. + +_Gi._ I'll do my utmost Endeavours. + +_Le._ What Employment do your Sons follow? + +_Gi._ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father +in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did +nothing but play while he was here. + +_Le._ Why did you send him thither? + +_Gi._ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went. + +_Le._ Don't talk so. + +_Gi._ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders. + +_Le._ I wish 'em all well. + + * * * * * + +3. _MOPSUS, DROMO._ + +_Mo._ How is it? What are you doing Dromo? + +_Dr._ I'm sitting still. + +_Mo._ I see that; but how do Matters go with you? + +_Dr._ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons. + +_Mo._ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing? + +_Dr._ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all. + +_Mo._ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I +interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence? + +_Dr._ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being +alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion. + +_Mo._ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some +Business? + +_Dr._ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle. + +_Mo._ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably. + +_Dr._ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I +was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company. + +_Mo._ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no +means interrupt or hinder? + +_Dr._ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil +and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you. + +_Mo._ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I +came along. + +_Dr._ Which Ear was it? + +_Mo._ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me. + +_Dr._ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said. + +_Mo._ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you? + +_Dr._ They say you are become a Huntsman. + +_Mo._ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I +have been hunting after. + +_Dr._ What Game is it? + +_Mo._ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat +you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding. + +_Dr._ Pray, who is your Bride? + +_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_. + +_Dr._ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy +that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature. + +_Mo._ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not +you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you, +the more she'll please me. + + * * * * * + +4. _SYRUS, GETA._ + +_Sy._ I wish you much Happiness. + +_Ge._ And I wish you double what you wish me. + +_Sy._ What are you doing? + +_Ge._ I am talking. + +_Sy._ What! By yourself? + +_Ge._ As you see. + +_Sy._ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see +to it that you talk to an honest Man. + +_Ge._ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion. + +_Sy._ With whom? + +_Ge._ With _Apuleius_. + +_Sy._ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love +Intermission; you study continually. + +_Ge._ I am never tired with Study. + +_Sy._ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought +not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are +not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid +aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer +Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else +but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books. +You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a +studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon +your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give +yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission +in, nor ever give over studying. + +_Ge._ Very well! This is like you. You banter me as you use to do. You +make a Game of me. You joke upon me. You satyrize me. You treat me with +a Sneer. I see how you jeer me well enough. You only jest with me. I am +your Laughing-stock. I am laugh'd at by you. You make yourself merry +with me. You make a meer Game and Sport of me. Why don't you put me on +Asses Ears too? My Books, that are all over dusty and mouldy, shew how +hard a Studier I am. + +_Sy._ Let me die if I don't speak my Mind. Let me perish if I don't +speak as I think. Let me not live if I dissemble. I speak what I think. +I speak the Truth. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +nothing but what I think. + + * * * * * + +_Why don't you come to see me_? + +_Ge._ What's the Matter you ha'n't come to see me all this While? What's +the Matter you visit me so seldom? What has happen'd to you that you +never have come at me for so long Time? Why are you so seldom a Visitor? +What is the Meaning that you never come near one for so long Time? What +has hinder'd you that you have come to see me no oftner? What has +prevented you that you have never let me have the Opportunity of seeing +you for this long Time? + + * * * * * + +_I could not by Reason of Business._ + +_Sy._ I had not Leisure. I would have come, but I could not for my +Business. Business would not permit me hitherto to come to see you. +These Floods of Business that I have been plung'd in would not permit me +to pay my Respects to you. I have been so busy I could not come. I have +been harass'd with so many vexatious Matters that I could not get an +Opportunity. I have been so taken up with a troublesome Business that I +could never have so much Command of myself. You must impute it to my +Business, and not to me. It was not for Want of Will, but Opportunity. I +could not get Time till now. I have had no Time till now. I never have +had any Leisure till this Time. I have been so ill I could not come. I +could not come, the Weather has been so bad. + +_Ge._ Indeed I accept of your Excuse, but upon this Condition, that you +don't make use of it often. If Sickness has been the Occasion of your +Absence, your Excuse is juster than I wish it had been; I'll excuse you +upon this Condition, that you make Amends for your Omission by Kindness, +if you make up your past Neglect by your future frequent Visits. + +_Sy._ You don't esteem these common Formalities. Our Friendship is more +firm than to need to be supported by such vulgar Ceremonies. He visits +often enough that loves constantly. + +_Ge._ A Mischief take those Incumbrances that have depriv'd us of your +Company. I can't tell what to wish for bad enough to those Affairs that +have envy'd us the Company of so good a Friend. A Mischief take that +Fever that hath tormented us so long with the Want of you. I wish that +Fever may perish, so thou thyself wert but safe. + + * * * * * + +_Of Commanding and Promising._ + +_JAMES, SAPIDUS._ + +_Ja._ I pray you take a special Care of this Matter. I earnestly intreat +you to take Care of this Affair. If you have any Respect for me, pray +manage this Affair diligently. Pray be very careful in this Affair. Pray +take a great Deal of Care about this Business for my Sake. If you are +indeed the Man I always took you to be, let me see in this Concern what +Esteem you have for me. + +_Sa._ Say no more, I'll dispatch this Affair for you, and that very +shortly too. I can't indeed warrant you what the Event shall be, but +this I promise you, that neither Fidelity nor Industry shall be wanting +in me. I will take more Care of it than if it were mine own Affair; tho' +indeed that which is my Friend's I account as my own. I will so manage +the Affair, that whatever is wanting, Care and Diligence shall not be +wanting. Take you no Care about the Matter, I'll do it for you. Do you +be easy, I'll take the Management of it upon myself. I am glad to have +an Opportunity put into my Hand of shewing you my Respect. I do not +promise you in Words, but I will in Reality perform whatsoever is to be +expected from a real Friend, and one that heartily wishes you well. I +won't bring you into a Fool's Paradise. I'll do that which shall give +you Occasion to say you trusted the Affair to a Friend. + + * * * * * + +_Success._ + +_Sa._ The Matter succeeded better than I could have expected. Fortune +has favour'd both our Wishes. If Fortune had been your Wife she could +not have been more observant to you. Your Affair went on bravely with +Wind and Tide. Fortune has out-done our very Wishes. You must needs be a +Favourite of Fortune, to whom all Things fall out just as you would have +them. I have obtain'd more than I could presume to wish for. This +Journey has been perform'd from Beginning to End with all the fortunate +Circumstances imaginable. The whole Affair has fallen out according to +our Wish. This Chance fell out happily for us. I think we have been +lucky to Admiration, that what has been so imprudently enterpriz'd, has +so happily succeeded. + + * * * * * + +_A giving one Thanks._ + +_Ja._ Indeed I thank you, and shall thank you heartily as long as I live +for that good Service you have done me. I can scarce give you the Thanks +you deserve, and shall never be able to make you Amends. I see how much +I am oblig'd to you for your Kindness to me. Indeed I don't wonder at +it, for it is no new Thing, and in that I am the more oblig'd to you. My +_Sapidus_ I do, and it is my Duty to love you heartily for your Kindness +to me. In as much as in this Affair you have not acted the Part of a +Courtier, I do, and always shall thank you. I respect you, and thank +you, that you made my Affair your Care. You have oblig'd me very much by +that Kindness of yours. It is a great Obligation upon me that you have +manag'd my Concern with Fidelity. Of all your Kindnesses, which are +indeed a great many, you have shew'd me none has oblig'd me more than +this. I cannot possibly make you a Return according to your Merit Too +much Ceremony between you and I is unnecessary, but that which is in my +Power I'll do. I'll be thankful as long as I live. I confess myself +highly oblig'd to you for your good Service. For this Kindness I owe you +more than I am able to pay. By this good Office you have attach'd me to +you so firmly, that I can never be able to disengage myself. You have +laid me under so many and great Obligations, that I shall never be able +to get out of your Debt. No Slave was ever so engag'd in Duty to his +Master as you have engag'd me by this Office. You have by this good Turn +brought me more into your Debt than ever I shall be able to pay. I am +oblig'd to you upon many Accounts, but upon none more than upon this. +Thanks are due for common Kindness, but this is beyond the Power of +Thanks to retaliate. + + * * * * * + +_The Answer._ + +_Sa._ Forbear these Compliments, the Friendship between you and I is +greater than that we should thank one another for any Service done. I +have not bestow'd this Kindness upon you, but only made a Return of it +to you. I think the Amends is sufficiently made, if my most sedulous +Endeavours are acceptable to you. There is no Reason you should thank me +for repaying this small Kindness, for those uncommon Kindnesses I have +so often receiv'd from you. Indeed I merit no Praise, but should have +been the most ungrateful Man in the World if I had been wanting to my +Friend. Whatsoever I have, and whatsoever I can do, you may call as +much your own as any Thing that you have the best Title to. I look upon +it as a Favour that you take my Service kindly. You pay so great an +Acknowledgment to me for so small a Kindness, as tho' I did not owe you +much greater. He serves himself that serves his Friend. He that serves a +Friend does not give away his Service, but puts it out to Interest. If +you approve of my Service, pray make frequent Use of it; then I shall +think my Service is acceptable, if as often as you have Occasion for it +you would not request but command it. + + + + +_OF RASH VOWS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats chiefly of three Things, 1. Of the + superstitious Pilgrimages of some Persons to_ Jerusalem, + _and other holy Places, under Pretence of Devotion. 2. + That Vows are not to be made rashly over a Pot of Ale: + but that Time, Expence and Pains ought to be employ d + otherwise, in such Matters as have a real Tendency to + promote trite Piety. 3. Of the Insignificancy and + Absurdity of Popish Indulgencies_. + + +ARNOLDUS, CORNELIUS. + +_ARNOLDUS._ O! _Cornelius_, well met heartily, you have been lost this +hundred Years. + +_Co._ What my old Companion _Arnoldus_, the Man I long'd to see most of +any Man in the World! God save you. + +_Ar._ We all gave thee over for lost. But prithee where hast been +rambling all this While? + +_Co._ In t'other World. + +_Ar._ Why truly a Body would think so by thy slovenly Dress, lean +Carcase, and ghastly Phyz. + +_Co._ Well, but I am just come from _Jerusalem_, not from the _Stygian_ +Shades. + +_Ar._ What Wind blew thee thither? + +_Co._ What Wind blows a great many other Folks thither? + +_Ar._ Why Folly, or else I am mistaken. + +_Co._ However, I am not the only Fool in the World. + +_Ar._ What did you hunt after there? + +_Co._ Why Misery. + +_Ar._ You might have found that nearer Home. But did you meet with any +Thing worth seeing there? + +_Co._ Why truly, to speak ingenuously, little or nothing. They shew us +some certain Monuments of Antiquity, which I look upon to be most of 'em +Counterfeits, and meer Contrivances to bubble the Simple and Credulous. +I don't think they know precisely the Place that _Jerusalem_ anciently +stood in. + +_Ar._ What did you see then? + +_Co._ A great deal of Barbarity every where. + +_Ar._ But I hope you are come back more holy than you went. + +_Co._ No indeed, rather ten Times worse. + +_Ar._ Well, but then you are richer? + +_Co._ Nay, rather poorer than _Job_. + +_Ar._ But don't you repent you have taken so long a Journey to so little +Purpose? + +_Co._ No, nor I am not asham'd neither, I have so many Companions of my +Folly to keep me in Countenance; and as for Repentance, it's too late +now. + +_Ar._ What! do you get no Good then by so dangerous a Voyage? + +_Co._ Yes, a great Deal. + +_Ar._ What is it? + +_Co._ Why, I shall live more pleasantly for it for Time to come. + +_Ar._ What, because you'll have the Pleasure of telling old Stories when +the Danger is over? + +_Co._ That is something indeed, but that is not all. + +_Ar._ Is there any other Advantage in it besides that? + +_Co._ Yes, there is. + +_Ar._ What is it? Pray tell me. + +_Co._ Why, I can divert myself and Company, as oft as I have a Mind to +it, in romancing upon my Adventures over a Pot of Ale, or a good Dinner. + +_Ar._ Why, truly that is something, as you say. + +_Co._ And besides, I shall take as much Pleasure myself when I hear +others romancing about Things they never heard nor saw; nay, and that +they do with that Assurance, that when they are telling the most +ridiculous and impossible Things in Nature, they persuade themselves +they are speaking Truth all the While. + +_Ar._ This is a wonderful Pleasure. Well then, you have not lost all +your Cost and Labour, as the Saying is. + +_Co._ Nay, I think this is something better still than what they do, +who, for the sake of little Advance-money, list themselves for Soldiers +in the Army, which is the Nursery of all Impiety. + +_Ar._ But it is an ungentleman-like Thing to take Delight in telling +Lies. + +_Co._ But it is a little more like a Gentleman than either to delight +others, or be delighted in slandering other Persons, or lavishing away a +Man's Time or Substance in Gaming. + +_Ar._ Indeed I must be of your Mind in that. + +_Co._ But then there is another Advantage. + +_Ar._ What is that? + +_Co._ If there shall be any Friend that I love very well, who shall +happen to be tainted with this Phrensy, I will advise him to stay at +Home; as your Mariners that have been cast away, advise them that are +going to Sea, to steer clear of the Place where they miscarried. + +_Ar._ I wish you had been my Moniter in Time. + +_Co._ What Man! Have you been infected with this Disease too? + +_Ar._ Yes, I have been at _Rome_ and _Compostella_. + +_Co._ Good God! how I am pleas'd that you have been as great a Fool as +I! What _Pallas_ put that into your Head? + +_Ar._ No _Pallas_, but _Moria_ rather, especially when I left at Home a +handsome young Wife, several Children, and a Family, who had nothing in +the World to depend upon for a Maintenance but my daily Labour. + +_Co._ Sure it must be some important Reason that drew you away from all +these engaging Relations. Prithee tell me what it was. + +_Ar._ I am asham'd to tell it. + +_Co._ You need not be asham'd to tell me, who, you know, have been sick +of the same Distemper. + +_Ar._ There was a Knot of Neighbours of us drinking together, and when +the Wine began to work in our Noddles, one said he had a Mind to make a +Visit to St. _James_, and another to St. _Peter_; presently there was +one or two that promis'd to go with them, till at last it was concluded +upon to go all together; and I, that I might not seem a disagreeable +Companion, rather than break good Company, promised to go too. The next +Question was, whether we should go to _Rome_ or _Compostella_? Upon the +Debate it was determin'd that we should all, God willing, set out the +next Day for both Places. + +_Co._ A grave Decree, fitter to be writ in Wine than engrav'd in Brass. + +_Ar._ Presently a Bumper was put about to our good Journey, which when +every Man had taken off in his Turn, the Vote passed into an Act, and +became inviolable. + +_Co._ A new Religion! But did you all come safe back? + +_Ar._ All but three, one dy'd by the Way, and gave us in Charge to give +his humble Service to _Peter_ and _James_; another dy'd at _Rome_, who +bad us remember him to his Wife and Children; and the third we left at +_Florence_ dangerously ill, and I believe he is in Heaven before now. + +_Co._ Was he so good a Man then? + +_Ar._ The veriest Droll in Nature. + +_Co._ Why do you think he is in Heaven then? + +_Ar._ Because he had a whole Satchel full of large Indulgencies. + +_Co._ I understand you, but it is a long Way to Heaven, and a very +dangerous one too, as I am told, by reason of the little Thieves that +infest the middle Region of the Air. + +_Ar._ That's true, but he was well fortify'd with Bulls. + +_Co._ What Language were they written in? + +_Ar._ In _Latin_. + +_Co._ And will they secure him? + +_Ar._ Yes, unless he should happen upon some Spirit that does not +understand _Latin_, in that Case he must go back to _Rome_, and get a +new Passport. + +_Co._ Do they sell Bulls there to dead Men too? + +_Ar._ Yes. + +_Co._ But by the Way, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, for +now there are a great many Spies abroad. + +_Ar._ I don't speak slightingly of Indulgencies themselves, but I laugh +at the Folly of my fuddling Companion, who tho' he was the greatest +Trifler that ever was born, yet chose rather to venture the whole Stress +of his Salvation upon a Skin of Parchment than upon the Amendment of his +Life. But when shall we have that merry Bout you spoke of just now? + +_Co._ When Opportunity offers we'll set a Time for a small Collation, +and invite some of our Comrades, there we will tell Lies, who can lye +fastest, and divert one another with Lies till we have our Bellies full. + +_Ar._ Come on, a Match. + + + + +_OF BENEFICE-HUNTERS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _In this Colloquy those Persons are reprehended that run + to and again to_ Rome _hunting after Benefices, and that + oftentimes with the Hazard of the Corruption of their + Morals, and the Loss of their Money. The Clergy are + admonished to divert themselves with reading of good + Books, rather than with a Concubine. Jocular Discourse + concerning a long Nose_. + + +PAMPHAGUS, COCLES. + +_PAM._ Either my Sight fails me, or this is my old Pot-Companion +_Cocles_. + +_Co._ No, no, your Eyes don't deceive you at all, you see a Companion +that is yours heartily. Nobody ever thought to have seen you again, you +have been gone so many Years, and no Body knew what was become of you. +But whence come you from? Prithee tell me. + +_Pa._ From the _Antipodes_. + +_Co._ Nay, but I believe you are come from the fortunate Islands. + +_Pa._ I am glad you know your old Companion, I was afraid I should come +home as _Ulysses_ did. + +_Co._ Why pray? After what Manner did he come Home? + +_Pa._ His own Wife did not know him; only his Dog, being grown very old, +acknowledg'd his Master, by wagging his Tail. + +_Co._ How many Years was he from Home? + +_Pa._ Twenty. + +_Co._ You have been absent more than twenty Years, and yet I knew your +Face again. But who tells that Story of _Ulysses_? + +_Pa._ _Homer._ + +_Co._ He? They say he's the Father of all fabulous Stories. It may be +his Wife had gotten herself a Gallant in the mean time, and therefore +did not know her own _Ulysses_. + +_Pa._ No, nothing of that, she was one of the chastest Women in the +World. But _Pallas_ had made _Ulysses_ look old, that he might not be +known. + +_Co._ How came he to be known at last? + +_Pa._ By a little Wart that he had upon one of his Toes. His Nurse, who +was now a very old Woman, took Notice of that as she was washing his +Feet. + +_Co._ A curious old Hagg. Well then, do you admire that I know you that +have so remarkable a Nose. + +_Pa._ I am not at all sorry for this Nose. + +_Co._ No, nor have you any Occasion to be sorry for having a Thing that +is fit for so many Uses. + +_Pa._ For what Uses? + +_Co._ First of all, it will serve instead of an Extinguisher, to put out +Candles. + +_Pa._ Go on. + +_Co._ Again, if you want to draw any Thing out of a deep Pit, it will +serve instead of an Elephant's Trunk. + +_Pa._ O wonderful. + +_Co._ If your Hands be employ'd, it will serve instead of a Pin. + +_Pa._ Is it good for any Thing else? + +_Co._ If you have no Bellows, it will serve to blow the Fire. + +_Pa._ This is very pretty; have you any more of it? + +_Co._ If the Light offends you when you are writing, it will serve for +an Umbrella. + +_Pa._ Ha, ha, ha! Have you any Thing more to say? + +_Co._ In a Sea-fight it will serve for a Grappling-hook. + +_Pa._ What will it serve for in a Land-fight? + +_Co._ Instead of a Shield. + +_Pa._ And what else? + +_Co._ It will serve for a Wedge to cleave Wood withal. + +_Pa._ Well said. + +_Co._ If you act the Part of a Herald, it will be for a Trumpet; if you +sound an Alarm, a Horn; if you dig, a Spade; if you reap, a Sickle; if +you go to Sea, an Anchor; in the Kitchen it will serve for a Flesh-hook; +and in Fishing a Fish-hook. + +_Pa._ I am a happy Fellow indeed, I did not know I carry'd about me a +Piece of Houshold Stuff that would serve for so many Uses. + +_Co._ But in the mean Time, in what Corner of the Earth have you hid +yourself all this While? + +_Pa._ In _Rome_. + +_Co._ But is it possible that in so publick a Place no Body should know +you were alive? + +_Pa._ Good Men are no where in the World so much _incognito_ as there, +so that in the brightest Day you shall scarce see one in a throng'd +Market. + +_Co._ Well, but then you're come home loaden with Benefices. + +_Pa._ Indeed I hunted after them diligently, but I had no Success; for +the Way of Fishing there is according to the Proverb, with a golden +Hook. + +_Co._ That's a foolish Way of Fishing. + +_Pa._ No Matter for that, some Folks find it a very good Way. + +_Co._ Are they not the greatest Fools in Nature that change Gold for +Lead? + +_Pa._ But don't you know that there are Veins of Gold in holy Lead? + +_Co._ What then! Are you come back nothing but a _Pamphagus_? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Co._ What then, pray? + +_Pa._ A ravenous Wolf. + +_Co._ But they make a better Voyage of it, that return laden with +Budgets full of Benefices. Why had you rather have a Benefice than a +Wife? + +_Pa._ Because I love to live at Ease. I love to live a pleasant Life. + +_Co._ But in my Opinion they live the most pleasant Life that have at +Home a pretty Girl, that they may embrace as often as they have a Mind +to it. + +_Pa._ And you may add this to it, sometimes when they have no Mind to +it. I love a continual Pleasure; he that marries a Wife is happy for a +Month, but he that gets a fat Benefice lives merrily all his Life. + +_Co._ But Solitude is so melancholy a Life, that _Adam_, in _Paradise_ +could not have liv'd happily unless God had given him an _Eve_. + +_Pa._ He'll ne'er need to want an _Eve_ that has gotten a good Benefice. + +_Co._ But that Pleasure can't really be call'd Pleasure that carries an +ill Name and bad Conscience with it. + +_Pa._ You say true, and therefore I design to divert the Tediousness of +Solitude by a Conversation with Books. + +_Co._ They are the pleasantest Companions in the World. But do you +intend to return to your Fishing again? + +_Pa._ Yes, I would, if I could get a fresh Bait. + +_Co._ Would you have a golden one or a silver one? + +_Pa._ Either of them. + +_Co._ Be of good Cheer, your Father will supply you. + +_Pa._ He'll part with nothing; and especially he'll not trust me again, +when he comes to understand I have spent what I had to no Purpose. + +_Co._ That's the Chance of the Dice. + +_Pa._ But he don't like those Dice. + +_Co._ If he shall absolutely deny you, I'll shew you where you may have +as much as you please. + +_Pa._ You tell me good News indeed, come shew it me, my Heart leaps for +Joy. + +_Co._ It is here hard by. + +_Pa._ Why, have you gotten a Treasure? + +_Co._ If I had, I would have it for myself, not for you. + +_Pa._ If I could but get together 100 Ducats I should be in Hopes again. + +_Co._ I'll shew you where you may have 100,000. + +_Pa._ Prithee put me out of my Pain then, and do not teaze me to Death. +Tell me where I may have it. + +_Co._ From the _Asse Budæi_, there you may find a great many Ten +Thousands, whether you'd have it Gold or Silver. + +_Pa._ Go and be hang'd with your Banter, I'll pay you what I owe you out +of that Bank. + +_Co._ Ay, so you shall, but it shall be what I lend you out of it. + +_Pa._ I know your waggish Tricks well enough. + +_Co._ I'm not to be compar'd to you for that. + +_Pa._ Nay, you are the veriest Wag in Nature, you are nothing but +Waggery; you make a Jest of a serious Matter. In this Affair it is far +easier Matter to teaze me than it is to please me. The Matter is of too +great a Consequence to be made a Jest on. If you were in my Case you +would not be so gamesome; you make a mere Game of me; you game and +banter me. You joke upon me in a Thing that is not a joking Matter. + +_Co._ I don't jeer you, I speak what I think. Indeed I do not laugh, I +speak my Mind. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +sincerely. I speak the Truth. + +_Pa._ So may your Cap stand always upon your Head, as you speak +sincerely. But do I stand loitering here, and make no haste Home to see +how all Things go there? + +_Co._ You'll find a great many Things new. + +_Pa._ I believe I shall; but I wish I may find all Things as I would +have them. + +_Co._ We may all wish so if we will, but never any Body found it so yet. + + +_Pa._ Our Rambles will do us both this Good, that we shall like Home the +better for Time to come. + +_Co._ I can't tell that, for I have seen some that have play'd the same +Game over and over again; if once this Infection seizes a Person he +seldom gets rid of it. + + + + +_OF A SOLDIER'S LIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The wicked Life of Soldiers is here reprehended, and + shewn to be very miserable: That War is Confusion, and a + Sink of all manner of Vices, in as much as in it there is + no Distinction made betwixt Things sacred and profane. + The Hope of Plunder allures many to become Soldiers. The + Impieties of a Military Life are here laid open, by this + Confession of a Soldier, that Youth may be put out of + Conceit of going into the Army._ + + +HANNO, THRASYMACHUS. + +_Hanno._ How comes it about that you that went away a _Mercury_, come +back a _Vulcan_? + +_Thr._ What do you talk to me of your _Mercuries_ and your _Vulcans_ +for? + +_Ha._ Because you seem'd to be ready to fly when you went away, but +you're come limping Home. + +_Thr._ I'm come back like a Soldier then. + +_Ha._ You a Soldier, that would out-run a Stag if an Enemy were at your +Heels. + +_Thr._ The Hope of Booty made me valiant. + +_Ha._ Well, have you brought Home a good Deal of Plunder then? + +_Thr._ Empty Pockets. + +_Ha._ Then you were the lighter for travelling. + +_Thr._ But I was heavy loaden with Sin. + +_Ha._ That's heavy Luggage indeed, if the Prophet says right, who calls +Sin Lead. + +_Thr._ I have seen and had a Hand in more Villanies this Campaign than +in the whole Course of my Life before. + +_Ha._ How do you like a Soldier's Life? + +_Thr._ There is no Course of Life in the. World more wicked or more +wretched. + +_Ha._ What then must be in the Minds of those People, that for the Sake +of a little Money, and some out of Curiosity, make as much Haste to a +Battel as to a Banquet? + +_Thr._ In Truth, I can think no other but they are possess'd; for if the +Devil were not in them they would never anticipate their Fate. + +_Ha._ So one would think, for if you'd put 'em upon any honest Business, +they'll scarce stir a Foot in it for any Money. But tell me, how went +the Battel? Who got the better on't? + +_Thr._ There was such a Hallooing, Hurly-burly, Noise of Guns, Trumpets +and Drums, Neighing of Horses, and Shouting of Men, that I was so far +from knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I was +myself. + +_Ha._ How comes it about then that others, after a Fight is over, do +paint you out every Circumstance so to the Life, and tell you what such +an Officer said, and what t'other did, as tho' they had been nothing but +Lookers on all the Time, and had been every where at the same Time? + +_Thr._ It is my Opinion that they lye confoundedly. I can tell you what +was done in my own Tent, but as to what was done in the Battel, I know +nothing at all of that. + +_Ha._ Don't you know how you came to be lame neither? + +_Thr._ Scarce that upon my Honour, but I suppose my Knee was hurt by a +Stone, or a Horse-heel, or so. + +_Ha._ Well, but I can tell you. + +_Thr._ You tell me? Why, has any Body told you? + +_Ha._ No, but I guess. + +_Thr._ Tell me then. + +_Ha._ When you were running away in a Fright, you fell down and hit it +against a Stone. + +_Thr._ Let me die if you han't hit the Nail on the Head. + +_Ha._ Go, get you Home, and tell your Wife of your Exploits. + +_Thr._ She'll read me a Juniper-Lecture for coming Home in such a +Pickle. + +_Ha._ But what Restitution will you make for what you have stolen? + +_Thr._ That's made already. + +_Ha._ To whom? + +_Thr._ Why, to Whores, Sutlers, and Gamesters. + +_Ha._ That's like a Soldier for all the World, it's but just that what's +got over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly. + +_Ha._ But I hope you have kept your Fingers all this While from +Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ There's nothing sacred in Hostility, there we neither spare +private Houses nor Churches. + +_Ha._ How will you make Satisfaction? + +_Thr._ They say there is no Satisfaction to be made for what is done in +War, for all Things are lawful there. + +_Ha._ You mean by the Law of Arms, I suppose? + +_Thr._ You are right. + +_Ha._ But that Law is the highest Injustice. It was not the Love of your +Country, but the Love of Booty that made you a Soldier. + +_Thr._ I confess so, and I believe very few go into the Army with any +better Design. + +_Ha._ It is indeed some Excuse to be mad with the greater Part of +Mankind. + +_Thr._ I have heard a Parson say in his Pulpit that War was lawful. + +_Ha._ Pulpits indeed are the Oracles of Truth. But War may be lawful for +a Prince, and yet not so for you. + +_Thr._ I have heard that every Man must live by his Trade. + +_Ha._ A very honourable Trade indeed to burn Houses, rob Churches, +ravish Nuns, plunder the Poor, and murder the Innocent! + +_Thr._ Butchers are hired to kill Beasts; and why is our Trade found +Fault with who are hired to kill Men? + +_Ha._ But was you never thoughtful what should become of your Soul if +you happen'd to be kill'd in the Battel? + +_Thr._ Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my Mind, having once +for all commended myself to St. _Barbara_. + +_Ha._ And did she take you under her Protection? + +_Thr._ I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little Nod. + +_Ha._ What Time was it? In the Morning? + +_Thr._ No, no, 'twas after Supper. + +_Ha._ And by that Time I suppose the Trees seem'd to walk too? + +_Thr._ How this Man guesses every Thing! But St. _Christopher_ was the +Saint I most depended on, whose Picture I had always in my Eye. + +_Ha._ What in your Tent? + +_Thr._ We had drawn him with Charcoal upon our Sail-cloth. + +_Thr._ Then to be sure that _Christopher_ the Collier was a sure Card to +trust to? But without jesting, I don't see how you can expect to be +forgiven all these Villanies, unless you go to _Rome_. + +_Thr._ Yes, I can, I know a shorter Way than that. + +_Ha._ What Way is that? + +_Thr._ I'll go to the _Dominicans_, and there I can do my Business with +the Commissaries for a Trifle. + +_Ha._ What, for Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ Ay, if I had robb'd Christ himself, and cut off his Head +afterwards, they have Pardons would reach it, and Commissions large +enough to compound for it. + +_Ha._ That is well indeed, if God should ratify your Composition. + +_Thr._ Nay, I am rather afraid the Devil should not ratify it; God is of +a forgiving Nature. + +_Ha._ What Priest will you get you? + +_Thr._ One that I know has but little Modesty or Honesty. + +_Ha._ Like to like. And when that's over, you'll go strait away to the +Communion, like a good Christian, will you not? + +_Thr._ Why should I not? For after I have once discharg'd the Jakes of +my Sins into his Cowl, and unburden'd myself of my Luggage, let him look +to it that absolv'd me. + +_Ha._ But how can you be sure that he does absolve you? + +_Thr._ I know that well enough. + +_Ha._ How do you know it? + +_Thr._ Because he lays his Hand upon my Head and mutters over something, +I don't know what. + +_Ha._ What if he should give you all your Sins again when he lays his +Hand upon your Head, and these should be the Words he mutters to +himself? _I absolve thee from all thy good Deeds, of which I find few or +none in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted Manners, and leave thee just +as I found thee_. + +_Thr._ Let him look to what he says, it is enough for me that I believe +I am absolv'd. + +_Ha._ But you run a great Hazard by that Belief, for perhaps that will +not be Satisfaction to God, to whom thou art indebted. + +_Thr._ Who a Mischief put you in my Way to disturb my Conscience, which +was very quiet before? + +_Ha._ Nay, I think it is a very happy Encounter to meet a Friend that +gives good Advice. + +_Thr._ I can't tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not very +pleasant. + + + + +_The COMMANDS OF A MASTER._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of the Commands of a Master, and + the Business of a Servant, 1. The Master calls up his + sleepy Servant, commands him to set the House to rights; + the Servant answers again, that he speaks not a Word + about Dinner, &c. 2. Of sending him on various Errands. + 3. Concerning Riding_. + + +1. _Of calling up the Sleeper._ + + +RABANUS, SYRUS. + +_RA._ Soho, soho, Rascal, I am hoarse a bawling to you, and you lye +snoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; either +get up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will you +have slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepy +Sot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon as +it is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Master +rises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Hour +a scratching, and stretching, and yawning. + +_Sy._ It is scarce Day yet. + +_Ra._ I believe not to you; it is Midnight yet to your Eyes. + +_Sy._ What do you want me to do? + +_Ra._ Make the Fire burn, brush my Cap and Cloke, clean my Shoes and +Galloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush them +well, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweeten +the Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before a +clear Fire. + +_Sy._ It shall be done Sir. + +_Ra._ But make Haste then, all this ought to have been done before now. + +_Sy._ I do make Haste Sir. + +_Ra._ I see what Haste you make, you are never the forwarder, you go a +Snail's Gallop. + +_Sy._ Sir, I cannot do two Things at once. + +_Ra._ You Scoundrel, do you speak Sentences too? Take away the +Chamber-Pot, lay the Bed-Clothes to Rights, draw back the Curtains, +sweep the House, sweep the Chamber-floor, fetch me some Water to wash my +Hands. What are you a sliving about you Drone? You are a Year a lighting +a Candle. + +_Sy._ I can't find a Spark of Fire. + +_Ra._ Is it so you rak'd it up last Night? + +_Sy._ I have no Bellows. + +_Ra._ How the Knave thwarts me, as if he that has you can want Bellows. + +_Sy._ What an imperious Master have I gotten! Ten of the nimblest +Fellows in the World are scarce sufficient to perform his Orders. + +_Ra._ What's that you say you slow-Back? + +_Sy._ Nothing at all, Sir. + +_Ra._ No, Sirrah, did I not hear you mutter? + +_Sy._ I was saying my Prayers. + +_Ra._ Ay, I believe so, but it was the Lord's-Prayer backwards then. +Pray, what was that you were chattering about Imperiousness? + +_Sy._ I was wishing you might be an Emperor. + +_Ra._ And I wish you may be made a Man of a Stump of a Tree. Wait upon +me to Church, and then run Home and make the Bed, and put every Thing in +its Place; let the House be set to Rights from Top to Bottom, rub the +Chamber-Pot, put these foul Things out of Sight, perhaps I may have +some Gentry come to pay me a Visit; if I find any Thing out of Order +I'll thresh you soundly. + +_Sy._ I know your good Humour well enough in that Matter. + +_Ra._ Then it behoves you to look about you, if you are wise. + +_Sy._ But all this while here is not one Word about Dinner. + +_Ra._ Out you Villain, one may see what your Mind runs on. I don't dine +at Home, therefore come to me a little before Ten a-Clock, that you may +wait upon me where I am to go to Dinner. + +_Sy._ You have taken Care of yourself, but there is not a Bit of Bread +for me to put into my Head. + +_Ra._ If you have nothing to eat, you have something to hunger after. + +_Sy._ But Fasting won't fill the Belly. + +_Ra._ There is Bread for you. + +_Sy._ There is so, but it is as black as my Hat, and as coarse as the +Bran itself. + +_Ra._ You dainty chap'd Fellow, you ought to be fed with Hay, if you had +such Commons as you deserve. What, I warrant you, Mr. Ass, you must be +fed with Plumb Cakes, must you? If you can't eat dry Bread, take a Leek +to eat with it, or an Onion, if you like that better. + + * * * * * + +_2. Of sending about various Businesses._ + +_Ra._ You must go to Market. + +_Sy._ What, so far? + +_Ra._ It is not a Stone's Throw off, but it seems two Miles to such an +idle Fellow as you; but however, I'll save you as much Labour as I can, +you shall dispatch several Businesses in one Errand; count 'em upon your +Fingers, that mayn't forget any of 'em: First of all step to the +Salesman, and bring my water'd Camblet Doublet if it be done; then go +and enquire for _Cornelius_ the Waggoner, he's commonly at the Sign of +the _Roe-buck_, he uses that House, ask him if he has any Letters for +me, and what Day he sets out on his Journey; then go to the Woollen +Draper, and tell him from me, not to be uneasy, that I have not sent him +the Money at the Time appointed, for he shall have it in a very little +Time. + +_Sy._ When? To morrow come never? + +_Ra._ Do you grin you Pimp? Yes, before the first of _March_: And as you +come back, turn on the Left-hand, and go to the Bookseller, and enquire +of him, if there be any new Books come out of _Germany_, learn what they +are, and the Price of them; then desire _Goclenius_, to do me the Honour +to come to Supper with me, tell him I must sup by myself if he don't. + +_Sy._ What do you invite Guests too? You han't Victuals enough in the +House to give a Mouse a Meal. + +_Ra._ And when you have done all these, go to the Market, and buy a +Shoulder of Mutton, and get it nicely roasted: Do you hear this? + +_Sy._ I hear more than I like to hear. + +_Ra._ But take you Care you remember 'em all. + +_Sy._ I shall scarce be able to remember half of 'em. + +_Ra._ What do you stand loytering here, you idle Knave? You might have +been back before now. + +_Sy._ What one Person in the World can do all these? Truly I must wait +upon him out, and attend upon him home; I'm his Swabber, his +Chamberlain, his Footman, his Clerk, his Butler, his Book-keeper, his +Brawl, his Errand-boy, and last of all he does not think I have Business +enough upon my Hands, unless I am his Cook too. + + * * * * * + +_3. Concerning Riding._ + +_Ra._ Bring me my Boots, I am to ride out. + +_Sy._ Here they are, Sir. + +_Ra._ You have look'd after them bravely, they are all over mouldy with +lying by; I believe they han't been clean'd nor greased this twelve +Months Day; they are so dry, they chap again; wipe them with a wet +Cloth, and liquor them well before the Fire, and chafe them till they +grow soft. + +_Sy._ It shall be done, Sir. + +_Ra._ Where are my Spurs? + +_Sy._ Here they are. + +_Ra._ Ay, here they are indeed, but all eaten up with Rust. Where is my +Bridle and Saddle? + +_Sy._ They are just by. + +_Ra._ See that nothing is wanting or broken, or ready to break, that +nothing may be a Hinderance to us, when we are upon our Journey. Run to +the Sadlers, and get him to mend that Rein: When you come back, look +upon the Horses Feet, and Shoes, and see if there be any Nails wanting, +or loose. How lean and rough these Horses are! How often do you rub 'em +down, or kemb them in a Year? + +_Sy._ I'm sure I do it every Day? + +_Ra._ That may be seen, I believe they have not had a bit of Victuals +for three Days together. + +_Sy._ Indeed they have, Sir. + +_Ra._ You say so, but the Horses would tell me another Tale, if they +could but speak: Though indeed their Leanness speaks loud enough. + +_Sy._ Indeed I take all the Care in the World of 'em. + +_Ra._ How comes it about then, that they don't look as well as you do? + +_Sy._ Because I don't eat Hay. + +_Ra._ You have this to do still; make ready my Portmanteau quickly. + +_Sy._ It shall be done. + + + + +_The SCHOOL-MASTER'S ADMONITIONS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The School-master's Instructions teach a Boy Modesty, + Civility, and Manners becoming his Age, in what Posture + he ought to stand while he talks to his Superiors; + concerning Habit, Discourse, and Behaviour at Table and + in School._ + + +_The School-master and Boy._ + +_Sch._ You seem not to have been bred at Court, but in a Cow-stall; you +behave yourself so clownishly. A Gentleman ought to behave himself like +a Gentleman. As often or whenever any one that is your Superior speaks +to you, stand strait, pull off your Hat, and look neither doggedly, +surlily, saucily, malapertly, nor unsettledly, but with a staid, modest, +pleasant Air in your Countenance, and a bashful Look fix'd upon the +Person who speaks to you; your Feet set close one by t'other; your Hands +without Action: Don't stand titter, totter, first standing upon one +Foot, and then upon another, nor playing with your Fingers, biting your +Lip, scratching your Head, or picking your Ears: Let your Cloaths be put +on tight and neat, that your whole Dress, Air, Motion and Habit, may +bespeak a modest and bashful Temper. + +_Bo._ What if I shall try, Sir? + +_Ma._ Do so. + +_Bo._ Is this right? + +_Ma._ Not quite. + +_Bo._ Must I do so? + +_Ma._ That's pretty well. + +_Bo._ Must I stand so? + +_Ma._ Ay, that's very well, remember that Posture; don't be a Prittle +prattle, nor Prate apace, nor be a minding any Thing but what is said to +you. If you are to make an Answer, do it in few Words, and to the +Purpose, every now and then prefacing with some Title of Respect, and +sometimes use a Title of Honour, and now and then make a Bow, especially +when you have done speaking: Nor do you go away without asking Leave, or +being bid to go: Now come let me see how you can practise this. How long +have you been from Home? + +_Bo._ Almost six Months. + +_Ma._ You should have said, Sir. + +_Bo._ Almost six Months, Sir. + +_Ma._ Don't you long to see your Mother? + +_Bo._ Yes, sometimes. + +_Ma._ Have you a Mind to go to see her? + +_Bo._ Yes, with your Leave, Sir. + +_Ma._ Now you should have made a Bow; that's very well, remember to do +so; when you speak, don't speak fast, stammer, or speak in your Throat, +but use yourself to pronounce your Words distinctly and clearly. If you +pass by any ancient Person, a Magistrate, a Minister, or Doctor, or any +Person of Figure, be sure to pull off your Hat, and make your Reverence: +Do the same when you pass by any sacred Place, or the Image of the +Cross. When you are at a Feast, behave yourself chearfully, but always +so as to remember what becomes your Age: Serve yourself last; and if any +nice Bit be offer'd you, refuse it modestly; but if they press it upon +you, take it, and thank the Person, and cutting off a Bit of it, offer +the rest either to him that gave it you, or to him that sits next to +you. If any Body drinks to you merrily, thank him, and drink moderately. +If you don't care to drink, however, kiss the Cup. Look pleasantly upon +him that speaks to you; and be sure not to speak till you are spoken to. +If any Thing that is obscene be said, don't laugh at it, but keep your +Countenance, as though you did not understand it; don't reflect on any +Body, nor take place of any Body, nor boast of any Thing of your own, +nor undervalue any Thing of another Bodies. Be courteous to your +Companions that are your Inferiors; traduce no Body; don't be a Blab +with your Tongue, and by this Means you'll get a good Character, and +gain Friends without Envy. If the Entertainment shall be long, desire to +be excus'd, bid much good may it do the Guests, and withdraw from Table: +See that you remember these Things. + +_Bo._ I'll do my Endeavour, Sir. Is there any Thing else you'd have me +do? + +_Ma._ Now go to your Books. + +_Bo._ Yes, Sir. + + + + +_Of VARIOUS PLAYS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Boys sending_ Cocles _their Messenger to their + Master, get Leave to go to Play; who shews that moderate + Recreations are very necessary both for Mind and Body. + The Master admonishes them that they keep together at + Play, &c. 1. Of playing at Stool-ball: Of chusing + Partners. 2. Of playing at Bowls, the Orders of the + Bowling-Green. 3. Of playing at striking a Ball through + an Iron Ring. 4. Of Dancing, that they should not dance + presently after Dinner: Of playing at Leap-frog: Of + Running: Of Swimming._ + + +NICHOLAS, JEROME, COCLES, _the_ MASTER. + +_Nic._ I have had a great Mind a good While, and this fine Weather is a +great Invitation to go to Play. + +_Jer._ These indeed invite you, but the Master don't. + +_Nic._ We must get some Spokesman that may extort a Holiday from him. + +_Jer._ You did very well to say extort, for you may sooner wrest +_Hercules's_ Club out of his Hands than get a Play-day from him; but +Time was when Nobody lov'd Play better than he did. + +_Nic._ That is true, but he has forgot a great While ago since he was a +Boy himself; he is as ready and free at whipping as any Body, but as +sparing and backward at this as any Body in the World. + +_Jer._ We must pick out a Messenger that is not very bashful that won't +be presently dashed out of Countenance by his surly Words. + +_Nic._ Let who will go for me, I had rather go without Play than ask +him for it. + +_Jer._ There is Nobody fitter for this Business than _Cocles._ + +_Nic._ Nobody in the World, he has a good bold Face of his own, and +Tongue enough; and besides, he knows his Humour too. + +_Jer._ Go, _Cocles_, you will highly oblige us all. + +_Coc._ Well, I'll try; but if I do not succeed, do not lay the Fault on +your Spokesman. + +_Jer._ You promise well for it, I am out in my Opinion if you don't get +Leave. Go on Intreater, and return an Obtainer. + +_Coc._ I'll go, may _Mercury_ send me good Luck of my Errand. God save +you, Sir. + +_Ma._ What does this idle Pack want? + +_Coc._ Your Servant, Reverend Master. + +_Ma._ This is a treacherous Civility! I am well enough already. Tell me +what 'tis you came for. + +_Coc._ Your whole School beg a Play-day. + +_Ma._ You do nothing else but play, even without Leave. + +_Coc._ Your Wisdom knows that moderate Play quickens the Wit, as you +have taught us out of _Quintilian_. + +_Ma._ Very well, how well you can remember what's to your purpose? They +that labour hard, had need of some Relaxation: But you that study idly, +and play laboriously, had more need of a Curb, than a Snaffle. + +_Coc._ If any Thing has been wanting in Times past, we'll labour to make +it up by future Diligence. + +_Ma._ O rare Makers up! who will be Sureties for the performing this +Promise? + +_Coc._ I'll venture my Head upon it. + +_Ma._ Nay, rather venture your Tail. I know there is but little +Dependance upon your Word; but however, I'll try this Time what Credit +may be given to you; if you deceive me now, you shall never obtain any +Thing from me again. Let 'em play; but let them keep together in the +Field, don't let them go a tippling or worse Exercises, and see they +come Home betimes, before Sun set. + +_Coc._ We will, Sir, I have gotten Leave, but with much a do. + +_Jer._ O brave Lad! we all love you dearly. + +_Coc._ But we must be sure not to transgress our Orders, for if we do, +it will be all laid upon my Back; I have engaged for ye all, and if ye +do, I'll never be your Spokesman again. + +_Jer._ We'll take Care: But what Play do you like best? + +_Coc._ We'll talk of that when we come into the Fields. + + * * * * * + +I. _Of playing at Ball._ + +_NICHOLAS_ and _JEROME._ + +_Nic._ No Play is better to exercise all Parts of the Body than +Stool-ball; but that's fitter for Winter than Summer. + +_Jer._ There is no Time of the Year with us, but what's fit to play in. + +_Nic._ We shall sweat less, if we play at Tennis. + +_Jer._ Let's let Nets alone to Fishermen; it's prettier to catch it in +our Hands. + +_Nic._ Well, come on, I don't much Matter; but how much shall we play +for? + +_Nic._ But I had rather spare my Corps than my Money. + +_Jer._ And I value my Corps more than my Money: We must play for +something, or we shall never play our best. + +_Nic._ You say true. + +_Jer._ Which Hand soever shall get the first three Games, shall pay the +sixth Part of a Groat to the other; but upon Condition that what's won +shall be spent among all the Company alike. + +_Nic._ Well, I like the Proposal; come done, let's chuse Hands; but we +are all so equally match'd, that it's no great Matter who and who's +together. + +_Jer._ You play a great Deal better than I. + +_Nic._ But for all that, you have the better Luck. + +_Jer._ Has Fortune anything to do at this Play? + +_Nic._ She has to do everywhere. + +_Jer._ Well, come let's toss up. O Boys, very well indeed. I have got +the Partners I would have. + +_Nic._ And we like our Partners very well. + +_Jer._ Come on, now for't, he that will win, must look to his Game. Let +every one stand to his Place bravely. Do you stand behind me ready to +catch the Ball, if it goes beyond me; do you mind there, and beat it +back when it comes from our Adversaries. + +_Nic._ I'll warrant ye, I'll hit it if it comes near me. + +_Jer._ Go on and prosper, throw up the Ball upon the House. He that +throws and do's not speak first shall lose his Cast. + +_Nic._ Well, take it then. + +_Jer._ Do you toss it; if you throw it beyond the Bounds, or short, or +over the House, it shall go for nothing, and we won't be cheated: And +truly you throw nastily. As you toss it, I'll give it you again; I'll +give you _a Rowland for an Oliver_; but it is better to play fairly and +honestly. + +_Nic._ It is best at Diversion, to beat by fair Play. + +_Jer._ It is so, and in War too; these Arts have each their respective +Laws: There are some Arts that are very unfair ones. + +_Nic._ I believe so too, and more than seven too. Mark the Bounds with a +Shell, or Brick-bat, or with your Hat if you will. + +_Jer._ I'd rather do it with yours. + +_Nic._ Take the Ball again. + +_Jer._ Throw it; score it up. + +_Nic._ We have two good wide Goals. + +_Jer._ Pretty wide, but they are not out of Reach. + +_Nic._ They may be reach'd if no Body hinders it. + +_Jer._ O brave, I have gone beyond the first Goal. We are fifteen. Play +stoutly, we had got this too, if you had stood in your Place. Well, now +we are equal. + +_Nic._ But you shan't be so long. Well, we are thirty; we are forty +five. + +_Jer._ What, Sesterces? + +_Nic._ No. + +_Jer._ What then? + +_Nic._ Numbers. + +_Jer._ What signifies Numbers, if you have nothing to pay? + +_Nic._ We have gotten this Game. + +_Jer._ You are a little too hasty; _you reckon your Chickens before they +are hatch'd_. I have seen those lose the Game that have had so many for +Love. War and Play is a meer Lottery. We have got thirty, now we are +equal again. + +_Nic._ This is the Game Stroke. O brave! we have got the better of you. + +_Jer._ Well, but you shan't have it long; did I not say so? We are +equally fortunate. + +_Nic._ Fortune inclines first to one side, and then to t'other, as if +she could not tell which to give the Victory to. Fortune, be but on our +Side, and we'll help thee to a Husband. O rare! She has answer'd her +Desire, we have got this Game, set it up, that we mayn't forget. + +_Jer._ It is almost Night, and we have play'd enough, we had better +leave off, too much of one Thing is good for nothing, let us reckon our +Winnings. + +_Nic._ We have won three Groats, and you have won two; then there is one +to be spent. But who must pay for the Balls? + +_Jer._ All alike, every one his Part. For there is so little won, we +can't take any Thing from that. + + * * * * * + +_2. BOWL PLAYING._ + +_ADOLPHUS, BERNARDUS_, the Arbitrators. + +_Adol._ You have been often bragging what a mighty Gamester you were at +Bowls. Come now, I have a Mind to try what a one you are. + +_Ber._ I'll answer you, if you have a Mind to that Sport. Now you'll +find according to the Proverb; _You have met with your Match._ + +_Adol._ Well, and you shall find I am a Match for you too. + +_Ber._ Shall we play single Hands or double Hands? + +_Adol._ I had rather play single, that another may not come in with me +for a Share of the Victory. + +_Ber._ And I had rather have it so too, that the Victory may be entirely +my own. + +_Adol._ They shall look on, and be Judges. + +_Ber._ I take you up; But what shall he that beats get, or he that is +beaten lose? + +_Adol._ What if he that beats shall have a Piece of his Ear cut off. + +_Ber._ Nay, rather let one of his Stones be cut out. It is a mean Thing +to play for Money; you are a _Frenchman_, and I a _German_, we'll both +play for the Honour of his Country. + +_Adol._ If I shall beat you, you shall cry out thrice, let _France_ +flourish; If I shall be beat (which I hope I shan't) I'll in the same +Words celebrate your _Germany_. + +_Ber._ Well, a Match. Now for good Luck; since two great Nations are at +Stake in this Game, let the Bowls be both alike. + +_Adol._ Do you see that Stone that lies by the Port there. + +_Ber._ Yes I do. + +_Adol._ That shall be the Jack. + +_Ber._ Very well, let it be so; but I say let the Bowls be alike. + +_Adol._ They are as like as two Peas. Take which you please, it's all +one to me. + +_Ber._ Bowl away. + +_Adol._ Hey-day, you whirl your Bowl as if your Arm was a Sling. + +_Ber._ You have bit your Lip, and whirled your Bowl long enough: Come +bowl away. A strong Bowl indeed, but I am best. + +_Adol._ If it had not been for that mischievous Bit of a Brick-bat +there, that lay in my Way, I had beat you off. + +_Ber._ Stand fair. + +_Adol._ I won't cheat: I intend to beat you, by Art, and not to cheat +ye, since we contend for the Prize of Honour: Rub, rub. + +_Ber._ A great Cast in Troth. + +_Adol._ Nay, don't laugh before you've won. We are equal yet. + +_Ber._ This is who shall: He that first hits the Jack is up. I have beat +you, sing. + +_Adol._ Stay, you should have said how many you'd make up, for my Hand +is not come in yet. + +_Ber._ Judgment, Gentlemen. + +_Arbitr._ 3. + +_Adol._ Very well. + +_Ber._ Well, what do you say now? Are you beat or no? + +_Adol._ You have had better Luck than I, but yet I won't vail to you, as +to Strength and Art; I'll stand to what the Company says. + +_Arb._ The _German_ has beat, and the Victory is the more glorious, that +he has beat so good a Gamester. + +_Ber._ Now Cock, crow. + +_Adol._ I am hoarse. + +_Ber._ That's no new Thing to Cocks; but if you can't crow like an old +Cock, crow like a Cockeril. + +_Adol._ Let _Germany_ flourish thrice. + +_Ber._ You ought to have said so thrice. I am a-dry; let us drink +somewhere, I'll make an end of the Song there. + +_Adol._ I won't stand upon that, if the Company likes it. + +_Arb._ That will be the best, the Cock will crow clearer when his Throat +is gargled. + + * * * * * + +_3. The Play of striking a Ball through an Iron Ring. + +GASPAR, ERASMUS. + +Gas._ Come, let's begin, _Marcolphus_ shall come in, in the Losers +Place. + +_Er._ But what shall we play for? + +_Gas._ He that is beat shall make and repeat _extempore_ a Distich, in +Praise of him that beat him. + +_Er._ With all my Heart. + +_Gas._ Shall we toss up who shall go first? + +_Er._ Do you go first if you will, I had rather go last. + +_Gas._ You have the better of me, because you know the Ground. + +_Er._ You're upon your own Ground. + +_Gas._ Indeed I am better acquainted with the Ground, than I am with my +Books; but that's but a small Commendation. + +_Er._ You that are so good a Gamester ought to give me Odds. + +_Gas._ Nay, you should rather give me Odds; but there's no great Honour +in getting a Victory, when Odds is taken: He only can properly be said +to get the Game, that gets it by his own Art; we are as well match'd as +can be. + +_Er._ Yours is a better Ball than mine. + +_Gas._ And yours is beyond me. + +_Er._ Play fair, without cheating and cozening. + +_Gas._ You shall say you have had to do with a fair Gamester. + +_Er._ But I would first know the Orders of the Bowling-alley. + +_Gas._ We make 4 up; whoever bowls beyond this Line it goes for nothing; +if you can go beyond those other Bounds, do it fairly and welcome: +Whoever hits a Bowl out of his Place loses his Cast. + +_Er._ I understand these Things. + +_Gas._ I have shut you out. + +_Er._ But I'll give you a Remove. + +_Gas._ If you do that I'll give you the Game. + +_Er._ Will you upon your Word? + +_Gas._ Yes, upon my Word: You have no other Way for it but to bank your +Bowl so as to make it rebound on mine. + +_Er._ I'll try: Well, what say you now Friend? Are not you beaten away? +(Have I not struck you away?) + +_Gas._ I am, I confess it; I wish you were but as wise as you are lucky; +you can scarce do so once in a hundred Times. + +_Er._ I'll lay you, if you will, that I do it once in three Times. But +come pay me what I have won. + +_Gas._ What's that? + +_Er._ Why, a Distich. + +_Gas._ Well, I'll pay it now. + +_Er._ And an extempore one too. Why do you bite your Nails? + +_Gas._ I have it. + +_Er._ Recite it out. + +_Gas._ As loud as you will. + + _Young Standers-by, dap ye the Conqueror brave, + Who me has beat, is the more learned Knave_. + +Han't you a Distich now? + +_Er._ I have, and I'll give you as good as you bring. + + * * * * * + +4. _Leaping._ + +VINCENT, LAURENCE. + +_Vi._ Have you a Mind to jump with me? + +_Lau._ That Play is not good presently after Dinner. + +_Vi._ Why so? + +_Lau._ Because that a Fulness of Belly makes the Body heavy. + +_Vi._ Not very much to those that live upon Scholars Commons, for these +oftentimes are ready for a Supper before they have done Dinner. + +_Lau._ What Sort of leaping is it that you like best? + +_Vi._ Let us first begin with that which is the plainest, as that of +Grasshoppers; or Leap-frog, if you like that better, both Feet at once, +and close to one another; and when we have play'd enough at this, then +we'll try other Sorts. + +_Lau._ I'll play at any Sort, where there is no Danger of breaking ones +Legs; I have no Mind to make Work for the Surgeon. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at hopping? + +_Lau._ That the Ghosts play, I am not for that. + +_Vi._ It's the cleverest Way to leap with a Pole. + +_Lau._ Running is a more noble Exercise; for _Æneas_ in _Virgil_ +proposed this Exercise. + +_Vi._ Very true, and he also propos'd the righting with Whirly-bats too, +and I don't like that Sport. + +_Lau._ Mark the Course, let this be the Starting-place, and yonder Oak +the Goal. + +_Vi._ I wish _Æneas_ was here, that he might propose what should be the +Conqueror's Prize. + +_Lau._ Glory is a Reward sufficient for Victory. + +_Vi._ You should rather give a Reward to him that is beat, to comfort +him. + +_Lau._ Then let the Victor's Reward be to go into the Town crowned with +a Bur. + +_Vi._ Well, 'tis done, provided you'll go before playing upon a Pipe. + +_Lau._ It is very hot. + +_Vi._ That is not strange when it is Midsummer. + +_Lau._ Swimming is better. + +_Vi._ I don't love to live like a Frog, I am a Land Animal, not an +amphibious one. + +_Lau._ But in old Time this was look'd upon to be one of the most noble +Exercises. + +_Vi._ Nay, and a very useful one too. + +_Lau._ For What? + +_Vi._ If Men are forc'd to fly in Battel, they are in the best Condition +that can run and swim best. + +_Lau._ The Art you speak of is not to be set light by; it is as +Praise-worthy sometimes to run away nimbly as it is to fight stoutly. + +_Vi._ I can't swim at all, and it is dangerous to converse with an +unaccustomed Element. + +_Lau._ You ought to learn then, for no Body was born an Artist. + +_Vi._ But I have heard of a great many of these Artists that have swum +in, but never swam out again. + +_Lau._ First try with Corks. + +_Vi._ I can't trust more to a Cork than to my Feet; if you have a Mind +to swim, I had rather be a Spectator than an Actor. + + + + +_The CHILD'S PIETY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Discourse furnishes a childish Mind with pious + Instructions of Religion, in what it consists. What is to + be done in the Morning in Bed, at getting up, at Home, at + School, before Meat, after Meat, before going to Sleep. + Of beginning the Day, of praying, of behaving themselves + studiously at School, Thriftiness of Time: Age flies. + What is to be done after Supper. How we ought to sleep. + Of Behaviour at holy Worship. All Things to be applied to + ourselves. The Meditation of a pious Soul at Church. What + Preachers are chiefly to be heard. Fasting is prejudicial + to Children. Confession is to be made to Christ. The + Society of wicked Persons is to be avoided. Of the + prudent chusing a Way of Living. Holy Orders and + Matrimony are not to be entred into before the Age of + Twenty-two. What Poets are fit to be read, and how._ + + +ERASMUS, GASPAR. + +_ERASMUS._ Whence came you from? Out of some Alehouse? + +_Ga._ No, indeed. + +_Er._ What from a Bowling Green? + +_Ga._ No, nor from thence neither. + +_Er._ What from the Tavern then? + +_Ga._ No. + +_Er._ Well, since I can't guess, tell me. + +_Ga._ From St. _Mary's_ Church. + +_Er._ What Business had you there? + +_Ga._ I saluted some Persons. + +_Er._ Who? + +_Ga._ Christ, and some of the Saints. + +_Er._ You have more Religion than is common to one of your Age. + +_Ga._ Religion is becoming to every Age. + +_Er._ If I had a Mind to be religious, I'd become a Monk. + +_Ga._ And so would I too, if a Monk's Hood carried in it as much Piety +as it does Warmth. + +_Er._ There is an old Saying, a young Saint and an old Devil. + +_Ga._ But I believe that old Saying came from old Satan: I can hardly +think an old Man to be truly religious, that has not been so in his +young Days. Nothing is learn'd to greater Advantage, than what we learn +in our youngest Years. + +_Er._ What is that which is call'd Religion? + +_Ga._ It is the pure Worship of God, and Observation of his +Commandments. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ It is too long to relate all; but I'll tell you in short, it +consists in four Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ In the first Place, that we have a true and pious Apprehension of +God himself, and the Holy Scriptures; and that we not only stand in Awe +of him as a Lord, but that we love him with all our Heart, as a most +beneficent Father. 2. That we take the greatest Care to keep ourselves +blameless; that is, that we do no Injury to any one. 3. That we exercise +Charity, _i.e._ to deserve well of all Persons (as much as in us lyes). +4. That we practise Patience, _i.e._ to bear patiently Injuries that are +offered us, when we can't prevent them, not revenging them, nor +requiting Evil for Evil. + +_Er._ You hold forth finely; but do you practise what you teach? + +_Ga._ I endeavour it manfully. + +_Er._ How can you do it like a Man, when you are but a Boy? + +_Ga._ I meditate according to my Ability, and call myself to an Account +every Day; and correct myself for what I have done amiss: That was +unhandsomely done this saucily said, this was uncautiously acted; in +that it were better to have held my Peace, that was neglected. + +_Er._ When do you come to this Reckoning? + +_Ga._ Most commonly at Night; or at any Time that I am most at Leisure. + +_Er._ But tell me, in what Studies do you spend the Day? + +_Ga._ I will hide nothing from so intimate a Companion: In the Morning, +as soon as I am awake, (and that is commonly about six a Clock, or +sometimes at five) I sign myself with my Finger in the Forehead and +Breast with the Sign of the Cross. + +_Er._ What then? + +_Ga._ I begin the Day in the Name of the Father, Son, and holy Spirit. + +_Er._ Indeed that is very piously done. + +_Ga._ By and by I put up a short Ejaculation to Christ. + +_Er._ What dost thou say to him? + +_Ga._ I give him Thanks that he has been pleased to bless me that Night; +and I pray him that he would in like Manner prosper me the whole of that +Day, so as may be for his Glory, and my Soul's Good; and that he who is +the true Light that never sets, the eternal Sun, that enlivens, +nourishes and exhilarates all Things, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Soul, that I mayn't fall into Sin; but by his Guidance, may attain +everlasting Life. + +_Er._ A very good Beginning of the Day indeed. + +_Ga._ And then having bid my Parents good Morrow, to whom next to God, I +owe the greatest Reverence, when it is Time I go to School; but so that +I may pass by some Church, if I can conveniently. + +_Er._ What do you do there? + +_Ga._ I salute Jesus again in three Words, and all the Saints, either +Men or Women; but the Virgin _Mary_ by Name, and especially that I +account most peculiarly my own. + +_Er._ Indeed you seem to have read that Sentence of _Cato, Saluta +libenter_, to good Purpose; was it not enough to have saluted Christ in +the Morning, without saluting him again presently? Are you not afraid +lest you should be troublesome by your over Officiousness? + +_Ga._ Christ loves to be often called upon. + +_Er._ But it seems to be ridiculous to speak to one you don't see. + +_Ga._ No more do I see that Part of me that speaks to him. + +_Er._ What Part is that? + +_Ga._ My Mind. + +_Er._ But it seems to be Labour lost, to salute one that does not salute +you again. + +_Ga._ He frequently salutes again by his secret Inspiration; and he +answers sufficiently that gives what is ask'd of him. + +_Er._ What is it you ask of him? For I perceive your Salutations are +petitionary, like those of Beggars. + +_Ga._ Indeed you are very right; for I pray that he, who, when he was a +Boy of about twelve Years of Age, sitting in the Temple, taught the +Doctors themselves, and to whom the heavenly Father, by a Voice from +Heaven, gave Authority to teach Mankind, saying, _This is my beloved +Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him_; and who is the eternal +Wisdom of the most high Father, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Understanding, to receive wholesome Learning, that I may use it to his +Glory. + +_Er._ Who are those Saints that you call peculiarly yours? + +_Ga._ Of the Apostles, St. _Paul_; of the Martyrs, St. _Cyprian_; of the +Doctors, St. _Jerome_; of the Virgins, St. _Agnes_. + +_Er._ How came these to be yours, more than the rest. Was it by Choice +or by Chance? + +_Ga._ They fell to me by Lot. + +_Er._ But you only salute them I suppose; do you beg any Thing of them? + +_Ga._ I pray, that by their Suffrages they would recommend me to +Christ, and procure that by his Assistance it may in Time come to pass +that I be made one of their Company. + +_Er._ Indeed what you ask for is no ordinary Thing: But what do you do +then? + +_Ga._ I go to School, and do what is to be done there with my utmost +Endeavour; I so implore Christ's Assistance, as if my Study without it +would signify nothing; and I study as if he offered no Help but to him +that labours industriously; and I do my utmost not to deserve to be +beaten, nor to offend my Master either in Word or Deed, nor any of my +Companions. + +_Er._ You are a good Boy to mind these Things. + +_Ga._ When School is done I make haste Home, and if I can I take a +Church in my Way, and in three Words, I salute Jesus again; and I pay my +Respects to my Parents; and if I have any Time, I repeat, either by +myself, or with one of my School-fellows, what was dictated in School. + +_Er._ Indeed you are a very good Husband of Time. + +_Ga._ No wonder I am of that, which is the most precious Thing in the +World, and when past is irrecoverable. + +_Er._ And _Hesiod_ teaches, that good Husbandry ought to be in the +Middle, it is too soon in the Beginning, and too late in the End. + +_Ga._ _Hesiod_ spoke right enough concerning Wine, but of Time no good +Husbandry is unseasonable. If you let a Hogshead of Wine alone it won't +empty itself; but Time is always a flying, sleeping or waking. + +_Er._ I confess so, but what do you do after that? + +_Ga._ When my Parents sit down to Dinner I say Grace, and then wait at +Table till I am bid to take my own Dinner; and having returned Thanks, +if I have any Time left I divert myself with my Companions with some +lawful Recreation till the Time comes to go to School again. + +_Er._ Do you salute Jesus again? + +_Ga._ Yes, if I have an Opportunity; but if it so happen that I have not +an Opportunity, or it be not seasonable, as I pass by the Church I +salute him mentally; and then I do what is to be done at School with all +my Might; and when I go Home again I do what I did before Dinner: After +Supper I divert myself with some pleasant Stories; and afterwards +bidding my Parents and the Family good Night, I go to Bed betimes, and +there kneeling down by the Bedside, as I have said, I say over those +Things I have been learning that Day at School; if I have committed any +great Fault, I implore Christ's Clemency, that he would pardon me, and I +promise Amendment: and if I have committed no Fault, I thank him for his +Goodness in preserving me from all Vice, and then I recommend myself to +him with all my Soul, that he would preserve me from the Attempts of my +evil Genius and filthy Dreams. When this is done, and I am got into Bed, +I cross my Forehead and Breast, and compose myself to Rest. + +_Er._ In what Posture do you compose yourself? + +_Ga._ I don't lye upon my Face or my Back, but first leaning upon my +Right-Side, I fold my Arms a-cross, so that they may defend my Breast, +as it were with the Figure of a Cross, with my Right-hand upon my Left +Shoulder, and my Left upon my Right, and so I sleep sweetly, either till +I awake of myself, or am called up. + +_Er._ You are a little Saint that can do thus. + +_Ga._ You are a little Fool for saying so. + +_Er._ I praise your Method, and I would I could practise it. + +_Ga._ Give your Mind to it and you will do it, for when once you have +accustom'd yourself to it for a few Months, these Things will be +pleasant, and become natural. + +_Er._ But I want to hear concerning divine Service. + +_Ga._ I don't neglect that, especially upon holy Days. + +_Er._ How do you manage yourself on holy Days? + +_Ga._ In the first place I examine myself if my Mind be Polluted by any +Stain of Sin. + +_Er._ And if you find it is, what do you do then? Do you refrain from +the Altar? + +_Ga._ Not by my bodily Presence, but I withdraw myself, as to my Mind, +and standing as it were afar off, as tho' not daring to lift up my Eyes +to God the Father, whom I have offended, I strike upon my Breast, crying +out with the Publican in the Gospel, _Lord, be merciful to me a Sinner_. +And then if I know I have offended any Man, I take Care to make him +Satisfaction if I can presently; but if I cannot do that, I resolve in +my Mind to reconcile my Neighbour as soon as possible. If any Body has +offended me, I forbear Revenge, and endeavour to bring it about, that he +that has offended me may be made sensible of his Fault, and be sorry for +it; but if there be no Hope of that, I leave all Vengeance to God. + +_Er._ That's a hard Task. + +_Ga._ Is it hard to forgive a small Offence to your Brother, whose +mutual Forgiveness thou wilt stand in frequent need of, when Christ has +at once forgiven us all our Offences, and is every Day forgiving us? +Nay, this seems to me not to be Liberality to our Neighbour, but putting +to Interest to God; just as tho' one Fellow-Servant should agree with +another to forgive him three Groats, that his Lord might forgive him ten +Talents. + +_Er._ You indeed argue very rationally, if what you say be true. + +_Ga._ Can you desire any Thing truer than the Gospel? + +_Er._ That is unreasonable; but there are some who can't believe +themselves to be Christians unless they hear Mass (as they call it) +every Day. + +_Ga._ Indeed I don't condemn the Practise in those that have Time +enough, and spend whole Days in profane Exercises; but I only disapprove +of those who superstitiously fancy that that Day must needs be +unfortunate to them that they have not begun with the Mass; and +presently after divine Service is over they go either to Trading, +Gaming, or the Court, where whatsoever succeeds, though done justly or +unjustly, they attribute to the Mass. + +_Er._ Are there any Persons that are so absurd? + +_Ga._ The greatest part of Mankind. + +_Er._ But return to divine Service. + +_Ga._ If I can, I get to stand so close by the Holy Altar, that I can +hear what the Priest reads, especially the Epistle and the Gospel; from +these I endeavour to pick something, which I fix in my Mind, and this I +ruminate upon for some Time. + +_Er._ Don't you pray at all in the mean Time? + +_Ga._ I do pray, but rather mentally than vocally. From the Things the +Priest reads I take occasion of Prayer. + +_Er._ Explain that a little more, I don't well take in what you mean. + +_Ga._ I'll tell you; suppose this Epistle was read, _Purge out the old +Leaven, that ye may be a new Lump, as ye are unleavened_. On occasion of +these Words I thus address myself to Christ, "I wish I were the +unleavened Bread, pure from all Leaven of Malice; but do thou, O Lord +Jesus, who alone art pure, and free from all Malice, grant that I may +every Day more and more purge out the old Leaven." Again, if the Gospel +chance to be read concerning the Sower sowing his Seed, I thus pray with +my self, "Happy is he that deserves to be that good Ground, and I pray +that of barren Ground, he of his great Goodness would make me good +Ground, without whose Blessing nothing at all is good." These for +Example Sake, for it would be tedious to mention every Thing. But if I +happen to meet with a dumb Priest, (such as there are many in _Germany_) +or that I can't get near the Altar, I commonly get a little Book that +has the Gospel of that Day and Epistle, and this I either say out aloud, +or run it over with my Eye. + +_Er._ I understand; but with what Contemplations chiefly dost thou pass +away the Time? + +_Ga._ I give Thanks to Jesus Christ for his unspeakable Love, in +condescending to redeem Mankind by his Death; I pray that he would not +suffer his most holy Blood to be shed in vain for me, but that with his +Body he would always feed my Soul, and that with his Blood he would +quicken my Spirit, that growing by little and little in the Increase of +Graces, I may be made a fit Member of his mystical Body, which is the +Church; nor may ever fall from that holy Covenant that he made with his +elect Disciples at the last Supper, when he distributed the Bread, and +gave the Cup; and through these, with all who are engraffed into his +Society by Baptism. And if I find my Thoughts to wander, I read some +Psalms, or some pious Matter, that may keep my Mind from wandring. + +_Er._ Have you any particular Psalms for this Purpose? + +_Ga._ I have; but I have not so tyed myself up to them, but that I can +omit them, if any Meditation comes into my Mind that is more refreshing, +than the Recitation of those Psalms. + +_Er._ What do you do as to Fasting? + +_Ga._ I have nothing to do with Fasting, for so _Jerome_ has taught me; +that Health is not to be impair'd by fasting, until the Body is arrived +at its full Strength. I am not quite 17 Years old; but yet if I find +Occasion, I dine and sup sparingly, that I may be more lively for +Spiritual Exercises on holy Days. + +_Er._ Since I have begun, I will go through with my Enquiries. How do +you find yourself affected towards Sermons? + +_Ga._ Very well, I go to them as devoutly as if I was a going to a holy +Assembly; and yet I pick and chuse whom to hear, for there are some, one +had better not hear than hear; and if such an one happens to preach, or +if it happen that no Body preaches, I pass this Time in reading the +Scriptures, I read the Gospel or Epistle with _Chrysostom's_ or +_Jerome's_ Interpretation, or any other pious and learned Interpreter +that I meet with. + +_Er._ But Word of Mouth is more affecting. + +_Ga._ I confess it is. I had rather hear if I can but meet with a +tolerable Preacher; but I don't seem to be wholly destitute of a Sermon +if I hear _Chrysostom_ or _Jerome_ speaking by their Writings. + +_Er._ I am of your Mind; but how do you stand affected as to +Confession? + +_Ga._ Very well; for I confess daily. + +_Er._ Every Day? + +_Ga._ Yes. + +_Er._ Then you ought to keep a Priest to yourself. + +_Ga._ But I confess to him who only truly remits Sins, to whom all the +Power is given. + +_Er._ To whom? + +_Ga._ To Christ. + +_Er._ And do you think that's sufficient? + +_Ga._ It would be enough for me, if it were enough for the Rulers of the +Church, and receiv'd Custom. + +_Er._ Who do you call the Rulers of the Church? + +_Ga._ The Popes, Bishops and Apostles. + +_Er._ And do you put Christ into this Number? + +_Ga._ He is without Controversy the chief Head of e'm all. + +_Er._ And was he the Author of this Confession in use? + +_Ga._ He is indeed the Author of all good; but whether he appointed +Confession as it is now us'd in the Church, I leave to be disputed by +Divines. The Authority of my Betters is enough for me that am but a Lad +and a private Person. This is certainly the principal Confession; nor is +it an easy Matter to confess to Christ; no Body confesses to him, but he +that is angry with his Sin. If I have committed any great Offence, I lay +it open, and bewail it to him, and implore his Mercy; I cry out, weep +and lament, nor do I give over before I feel the Love of Sin throughly +purged from the Bottom of my Heart, and some Tranquility and +Chearfulness of Mind follow upon it, which is an Argument of the Sin +being pardoned. And when the Time requires to go to the holy Communion +of the Body and Blood of Christ; then I make Confession to a Priest too, +but in few Words, and nothing but what I am well satisfy'd are Faults, +or such that carry in them a very great Suspicion that they are such; +neither do I always take it to be a capital or enormous Crime, every +Thing that is done contrary to human Constitutions, unless a wicked +Contemptuousness shall go along with it: Nay, I scarce believe any Crime +to be Capital, that has not Malice join'd with it, that is, a perverse +Will. + +_Er._ I commend you, that you are so religious, and yet not +superstitious: Here I think the old Proverb takes place: _Nec omnia, nec +passim, nec quibuslibet_, That a Person should neither speak all, nor +every where, nor to all Persons. + +_Ga._ I chuse me a Priest, that I can trust with the Secrets of my +Heart. + +_Er._ That's wisely done: For there are a great many, as is found by +Experience, do blab out what in Confessions is discovered to them. And +there are some vile impudent Fellows that enquire of the Person +confessing, those Things, that it were better if they were conceal'd; +and there are some unlearned and foolish Fellows, who for the Sake of +filthy Gain, lend their Ear, but apply not their Mind, who can't +distinguish between a Fault and a good Deed, nor can neither teach, +comfort nor advise. These Things I have heard from many, and in Part +have experienced my self. + +_Ga._ And I too much; therefore I chuse me one that is learn'd, grave, +of approv'd Integrity, and one that keeps his Tongue within his Teeth. + +_Er._ Truly you are happy that can make a Judgment of Things so early. + +_Ga._ But above all, I take Care of doing any Thing that I can't safely +trust a Priest with. + +_Er._ That's the best Thing in the World, if you can but do so. + +_Ga._ Indeed it is hard to us of ourselves, but by the Help of Christ it +is easy; the greatest Matter is, that there be a Will to it. I often +renew my Resolution, especially upon Sundays: And besides that, I +endeavour as much as I can to keep out of evil Company, and associate +myself with good Company, by whose Conversation I may be better'd. + +_Er._ Indeed you manage yourself rightly: For _evil Conversations +corrupt good Manners_. + +_Ga._ I shun Idleness as the Plague. + +_Er._ You are very right, for Idleness is the Root of all Evil; but as +the World goes now, he must live by himself that would keep out of bad +Company. + +_Ga._ What you say is very true, for as the _Greek_ wise Men said the +bad are the greatest Number. But I chuse the best out of a few, and +sometimes a good Companion makes his Companion better. I avoid those +Diversions that incite to Naughtiness, and use those that are innocent. +I behave myself courteous to all; but familiarly with none but those +that are good. If I happen at any Time to fall into bad Company, I +either correct them by a soft Admonition, or wink at and bear with them, +if I can do them no good; but I be sure to get out of their Company as +soon as I can. + +_Er._ Had you never an itching Mind to become a Monk? + +_Ga._ Never; but I have been often solicited to it by some, that call +you into a Monastery, as into a Port from a Shipwreck. + +_Er._ Say you so? Were they in Hopes of a Prey? + +_Ga._ They set upon both me and my Parents with a great many crafty +Persuasions; but I have taken a Resolution not to give my Mind either to +Matrimony or Priesthood, nor to be a Monk, nor to any Kind of Life out +of which I can't extricate myself, before I know myself very well. + +_Er._ When will that be? + +_Ga._ Perhaps never. But before the 28th Year of ones Age, nothing +should be resolved on. + +_Er._ Why so? + +_Ga._ Because I hear every where, so many Priests, Monks and married Men +lamenting that they hurried themselves rashly into Servitude. + +_Er._ You are very cautious not to be catch'd. + +_Ga._ In the mean Time I take a special Care of three Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ First of all to make a good Progress in Morality, and if I can't +do that, I am resolv'd to maintain an unspotted Innocence and good +Name; and last of all I furnish myself with Languages and Sciences that +will be of Use in any Kind of Life. + +_Er._ But do you neglect the Poets? + +_Ga._ Not wholly, but I read generally the chastest of them, and if I +meet with any Thing that is not modest, I pass that by, as _Ulysses_ +passed by the _Sirens_, stopping his Ears. + +_Er._ To what Kind of Study do you chiefly addict your self? To Physic, +the Common or Civil Law, or to Divinity? For Languages, the Sciences and +Philosophy are all conducive to any Profession whatsoever. + +_Ga._ I have not yet thoroughly betaken myself to any one particularly, +but I take a Taste of all, that I be not wholly ignorant of any; and the +rather, that having tasted of all I may the better chuse that I am +fittest for. Medicine is a certain Portion in whatsoever Land a Man is; +the Law is the Way to Preferment: But I like Divinity the best, saving +that the Manners of some of the Professors of it, and the bitter +Contentions that are among them, displease me. + +_Er._ He won't be very apt to fall that goes so warily along. Many in +these Days are frighted from Divinity, because they are afraid they +should not be found in the Catholick Faith, because they see no +Principle of Religion, but what is called in Question. + +_Ga._ I believe firmly what I read in the holy Scriptures, and the +Creed, called the Apostles, and I don't trouble my Head any farther: I +leave the rest to be disputed and defined by the Clergy, if they please; +and if any Thing is in common Use with Christians that is not repugnant +to the holy Scriptures, I observe it for this Reason, that I may not +offend other People. + +_Er._ What _Thales_ taught you that Philosophy? + +_Ga._ When I was a Boy and very young, I happen'd to live in the House +with that honestest of Men, _John Colet_, do you know him? + +_Er._ Know him, ay, as well as I do you. + +_Ga._ He instructed me when I was young in these Precepts. + +_Er._ You won't envy me, I hope, if I endeavour to imitate you? + +_Ga._ Nay, by that Means you will be much dearer to me. For you know, +Familiarity and good Will, are closer ty'd by Similitude of Manners. + +_Er._ True, but not among Candidates for the same Office, when they are +both sick of the same Disease. + +_Ga._ No, nor between two Sweet-hearts of the same Mistress, when they +are both sick of the same Love. + +_Er._ But without jesting, I'll try to imitate that Course of Life. + +_Ga._ I wish you as good Success as may be. + +_Er._ It may be I shall overtake thee. + +_Ga._ I wish you might get before me; but in the mean Time I won't stay +for you; but I will every Day endeavour to out-go myself, and do you +endeavour to out-go me if you can. + + + + +_The ART OF HUNTING._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with the Art of Hunting; + Fishing, of bringing Earth-Worms out of the Ground, of + sticking Frogs._ + + +PAUL, THOMAS, VINCENT, LAWRENCE, BARTHOLUS. + +_Pa. Every one to his Mind._ I love Hunting. + +_Th._ And so do I too, but where are the Dogs? The hunting Poles? And +the hunting Nets? + +_Pa._ Farewell Boars, Bears, Bucks, and Foxes, we'll lay Snares for +Rabbets. + +_Vi._ But I'll set Gins for Locusts and Crickets. + +_La._ But I'll catch Frogs. + +_Ba._ I'll hunt Butterflies. + +_La._ 'Tis difficult to follow flying Creatures. + +_Ba._ It is difficult, but 'tis fine Sport; unless you think it finer +Sport to hunt after Earth-Worms, Snails or Cockles, because they have no +Wings. + +_La._ Indeed I had rather go a Fishing; I have a neat Hook. + +_Ba._ But where will you get Baits? + +_La._ There are Earth-Worms enough every where to be had. + +_Ba._ So there is, if they would but creep out of the Ground to you. + +_La._ But I'll make a great many thousand jump out presently. + +_Ba._ How? By Witch-Craft? + +_La._ You shall see the Art. Fill this Bucket with Water, break these +green Peels of Walnuts to Pieces and put into it: Wet the Ground with +the Water. Now mind a little, do you see them coming out? + +_Ba._ I see a Miracle. I believe the armed Men started out of the Earth +after this Manner from the Serpents Teeth that were sown: But a great +many Fish are of too fine and delicate a Palate to be catch'd by such a +vulgar Bait. + +_La._ I know a certain Sort of an Insect that I us'd to catch such with. + +_Ba._ See if you can impose upon the Fishes so, I'll make work with the +Frogs. + +_La._ How, with a Net? + +_Ba._ No, with a Bow. + +_La._ That's a new Way of Fishing! + +_Ba._ But 'tis a pleasant one; you'll say so, when you see it. + +_Vi._ What if we two should play at holding up our Fingers? + +_Ba._ That's an idle, clownish Play indeed, fitter for them that are +sitting in a Chimney Corner, than those that are ranging in the Field. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at Cob-Nut? + +_Pa._ Let us let Nuts alone for little Chits, we are great Boys. + +_Vi._ And yet we are but Boys for all that. + +_Pa._ But they that are fit to play at Cob-Nut, are fit to ride upon a +Hobby-Horse. + +_Vi._ Well then, do you say what we shall play at; and I'll play at what +you will. + +_Pa._ And I'll be conformable. + + + + +_SCHOLASTIC STUDIES._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of scholastic Studies, and School + Plays, I. The Boys going into the School. The striking of + a Clock. A whipping Master. Of saying a Lesson. Fear + hurts the Memory. 2. Of Writing, the Paper sinks. Of + making a Pen. Of a hard Nip. A soft Nip. Of writing + quick, well._ + + +SYLVIUS, JOHN. + +_Sy._ What makes you run so, _John?_ + +_Jo._ What makes a Hare run before the Dogs, as they use to say? + +_Sy._ What Proverb is this? + +_Jo._ Because unless I am there in Time, before the Bill is called over, +I am sure to be whipp'd. + +_Sy._ You need not be afraid of that, it is but a little past five: Look +upon the Clock, the Hand is not come to the half Hour Point yet. + +_Jo._ Ay, but I can scarce trust to Clocks, they go wrong sometimes. + +_Sy._ But trust me then, I heard the Clock strike. + +_Jo._ What did that strike? + +_Sy._ Five. + +_Jo._ But there is something else that I am more afraid of than that, I +must say by Heart a good long Lesson for Yesterday, and I am afraid I +can't say it. + +_Sy._ I am in the same Case with you; for I myself have hardly got mine +as it should be. + +_Jo._ And you know the Master's Severity. Every Fault is a Capital one +with him: He has no more Mercy of our Breeches, than if they were made +of a Bull's Hide. + +_Sy._ But he won't be in the School. + +_Jo._ Who has he appointed in his Place? + +_Sy. Cornelius._ + +_Jo._ That squint-ey'd Fellow! Wo to our Back-Sides, he's a greater +Whip-Master than _Busby_ himself. + +_Sy._ You say very true, and for that Reason I have often wish'd he had +a Palsy in his Arm. + +_Jo._ It is not pious to wish ill to ones Master: it is our Business +rather to take Care not to fall under the Tyrant's Hands. + +_Sy._ Let us say one to another, one repeating and the other looking in +the Book. + +_Jo._ That's well thought on. + +_Sy._ Come, be of good Heart; for Fear spoils the Memory. + +_Jo._ I could easily lay aside Fear, if I were out of Danger; but who +can be at Ease in his Mind, that is in so much Danger. + +_Sy._ I confess so; but we are not in Danger of our Heads, but of our +Tails. + + * * * * * + +2. _Of Writing._ + +CORNELIUS, ANDREW. + +_Co._ You write finely, but your Paper sinks. Your Paper is damp, and +the Ink sinks through it. + +_An._ Pray make me a Pen of this. + +_Co._ I have not a Pen-knife. + +_An._ Here is one for you. + +_Co._ Out on't, how blunt it is! + +_An._ Take the Hoan. + +_Co._ Do you love to write with a hard-nip'd Pen, or a soft? + +_An._ Make it fit for your own Hand. + +_Co._ I use to write with a soft Nip. + +_An._ Pray write me out the Alphabet. + +_Co._ Greek or Latin? + +_An._ Write me the Latin first; I'll try to imitate it. + +_Co._ Give me some Paper then. + +_An._ Take some. + +_Co._ But my Ink is too thin, by often pouring in of Water. + +_An._ But my Cotton is quite dry. + +_Co._ Squeeze it, or else piss in it. + +_An._ I had rather get some Body to give me some. + +_Co._ It is better to have of one's own, than to borrow. + +_An._ What's a Scholar without Pen and Ink? + +_Co._ The same that a Soldier is without Shield or Sword. + +_An._ I wish my Fingers were so nimble, I can't write as fast as another +speaks. + +_Co._ Let it be your first chief Care to write well, and your next to +write quick: No more Haste than good Speed. + +_An._ Very well; say to the Master when he dictates, no more Haste than +good Speed. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of giving Thanks. + +PETER, CHRISTIAN._ + +_Pe._ You have oblig'd me, in that you have written to me sometimes. I +thank you for writing to me often. I love you, that you have not thought +much to send me now and then a Letter. I give you Thanks that you have +visited me with frequent Letters. I thank you for loading of me with +Packets of Letters. I thank you heartily that you have now and then +provoked me with Letters. You have oblig'd me very much that you have +honour'd me with your Letters. I am much beholden to you for your most +obliging Letters to me. I take it as a great Favour, that you have not +thought much to write to me. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I ought to beg Pardon for my Presumption, who dar'd presume +to trouble a Man of so much Business, and so much Learning with my +unlearned Letters. I acknowledge your usual Humanity, who have taken my +Boldness in good Part. I was afraid my Letters had given you some +Offence, that you sent me no Answer. There is no Reason that you should +thank me, it is more than enough for me, if you have taken my Industry +in good Part. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking after News._ + +_Pe._ Is there no News come from our Country? Have you had any News from +our Countrymen? What News? Do you bring any News? Is there any News come +to Town? Is there any News abroad from our Country? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ There is much News; but nothing of Truth. News enough indeed; but +nothing certain. A great deal of News; but nothing to be depended upon. +Not a little News; but not much Truth. There is no News come. I have had +no News at all. Something of News; but nothing certain. There are a +great many Reports come to Town; but they are all doubtful. There is a +great deal of Talk; but nothing true, nothing certain. If Lies please, I +have brought you a whole Cart-Load of them. I bring you whole Bushels of +Tales. I bring you as many Lies as a good Ship will carry. + +_Pe._ Then unlade yourself as fast as you can, for fear you should sink, +being so over-freighted. + +_Ch._ I have nothing but what's the Chat of Barbers Shops, Coaches and +Boats. + + +_Han't you received any Letters. The Form_. + +_Pe._ Have you had no Letters? Have you had any Letters out of your own +Country? Have no Letters been brought to you? Have you receiv'd any +Letters? Have you had any Letters? Have you receiv'd any Letters from +your Friends? Are there no Letters come from _France_? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ I have received no Letters. I han't had so much as a Letter. I +han't had the least Bit of a Letter. No Body has sent me any Letter. +There is not the least Word come from any Body. I have received no more +Letters for this long Time, than what you see in my Eye. Indeed I had +rather have Money than Letters. I had rather receive Money than Letters. +I don't matter Letters, so the Money does but come. I had rather be +paid, than be written to. + + * * * * * + +_I believe so. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I easily believe you. That is not hard to be believ'd. It is a +very easy Thing to believe that. Who would not believe you in that? He +will be very incredulous, that won't believe you in that Matter. In +Truth I do believe you. You will easily make me believe that. I can +believe you without swearing. What you say is very likely. But for all +that, Letters bring some Comfort. I had rather have either of them, than +neither. + + * * * * * + +_Of Profit. A Form._ + +_Ch._ What signifies Letters without Money? What signifies empty +Letters? What do empty Letters avail? What good do they do, what do they +profit, advantage? To whom are Letters grateful or acceptable without +Money? What Advantage do empty Letters bring? What are idle Letters good +for? What do they do? What use are they of? What are they good for? What +do they bring with them of Moment? What Use are empty Letters of? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ They are useful, fit, proper, to wipe your Breech with. They are +good to wipe your Backside with. If you don't know the Use of them, they +are good to wipe your Arse with. To wipe your Breech with. To wipe your +Backside with. They are good to cleanse that Part of the Body that often +fouls itself. They are good to wrap Mackrel in. Good to make up Grocery +Ware in. + + * * * * * + +_Of wishing well._ + +1. _To a Man whose Wife is with Child._ + +_Pe._ What? are our little Friends well? How does your Wife do? + +_Ch._ Very well, I left her with her Mother, and with Child. + +_Pe._ I wish it may be well for you, and her too: To you, because you're +shortly to be a Father, and she a Mother. God be with you. I pray and +desire that it may be prosperous and happy to you both. I pray, I beg of +God that she, having a safe Delivery, may bear a Child worthy of you +both; and may make you a Father of a fine Child. I commend you that you +have shewed yourself to be a Man. I am glad you have prov'd yourself to +be a Man. You have shew'd yourself to be a Gallus, but not _Cybele_'s. +Now you may go, I believe you are a Man. + +_Ch._ You joke upon me, as you are used to do. Well, go on, you may say +what you please to me. + + * * * * * + +2. _To one coming Home into his own Country._ + +_Ch._ I hear, you have lately been in your own Country. + +_Pe._ I have so, I had been out of it a pretty While. I could not bear +to be out of it long. I could not bear to be out of my Parents Sight any +longer. I thought it long till I enjoy'd my Friends Company. + +_Ch._ You have acted very piously. You are very good Humour'd, to think +of those Matters. We have all a strange Affection for the Country that +hath bred us, and brought us forth. + +_As_ Ovid _says_: + + _Nescio quâ natale solum dulcedine cunctos + Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui._ + +Pray tell me how did you find all Things there. + + * * * * * + +_All Things new. The Form._ + +_Pe._ Nothing but what was new. All Things changed, all Things become +new. See how soon Time changes all human Affairs. Methought I came into +another World. I had scarce been absent ten Years, and yet I admired at +every Thing, as much as _Epimenides_ the Prince of Sleepers, when he +first wak'd out of his Sleep. + +_Ch._ What Story is that? What Fable is that? + +_Pe._ I'll tell you if you are at Leisure. + +_Ch._ There is nothing more pleasant. + +_Pe._ Then order me a Chair and a Cushion. + +_Ch._ That's very well thought on, for you will tell Lyes the better, +sitting at Ease. + +_Pe._ Historians tell us a Story, of one _Epimenides_ a Man of _Crete_, +who taking a Walk alone by himself without the City, being caught in a +hasty Shower of Rain, went for Shelter into a Cave, and there fell +asleep, and slept on for seven and forty Years together. + + +_I don't believe it. The Form._ + +_Ch._ What a Story you tell? 'Tis incredible. What you say is not very +likely. You tell me a Fiction. I don't think 'tis true. You tell me a +monstrous Story. Are you not asham'd to be guilty of so wicked a Lye? +This is a Fable fit to be put among _Lucian's_ Legends. + +_Pe._ Nay, I tell you what is related by Authors of Credit, unless you +think _Aulus Gellius_ is not an Author of approv'd Credit. + +_Ch._ Nay, whatsoever he has written are Oracles to me. + +_Pe._ Do you think that a Divine dream'd so many Years? For it is +storied that he was a Divine. + +_Ch._ I am with Child to hear. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ What is it more than what _Scotus_ and the School-men did +afterwards? But _Epimenides_, he came off pretty well, he came to +himself again at last; but a great many Divines never wake out of their +Dreams. + +_Ch._ Well go on, you do like a Poet; But go on with your Lye. + +_Pe._ _Epimenides_ waking out of his Sleep, goes out of his Cave, and +looks about him, and sees all Things chang'd, the Woods, the Banks, the +Rivers, the Trees, the Fields; and, in short, there was nothing but was +new: He goes to the City, and enquires; he stays there a little While, +but knows no Body, nor did any Body know him: the Men were dress'd after +another Fashion, than what they were before; they had not the same +Countenances; their Speech was alter'd, and their Manners quite +different: Nor do I wonder it was so with _Epimenides_, after so many +Years, when it was almost so with me, when I had been absent but a few +Years. + +_Ch._ But how do your Father and Mother do? Are they living? + +_Pe._ They are both alive and well; but pretty much worn out with old +Age, Diseases, and lastly, with the Calamities of War. + +_Ch._ This is the Comedy of human Life. This is the inevitable Law of +Destiny. + + * * * * * + +_Words, Names of Affinity._ + +_Pe._ Will you sup at Home to Day? + +_Ch._ I am to sup abroad: I must go out to Supper. + +_Pe._ With whom? + +_Ch._ With my Father in Law; with my Son in Law; at my Daughter's in +Law; with my Kinsman. They are call'd, _Affines_, Kinsmen, who are +ally'd not by Blood, but Marriage. + +_Pe._ What are the usual Names of Affinity? + +_Ch._ A Husband and Wife are noted Names. _Socer_, Is my Wife's Father. +_Gener_, My Daughter's Husband. _Socrus_, My Wife's Mother. _Nurus_, My +Son's Wife. _Levir_, A Husband's Brother. _Levir_ is call'd by the Wife, +as _Helen_ calls _Hector_, _Levir_, because she was married to _Paris_. +_Fratria_, My Brother's Wife. _Glos_, A Husband's Sister. _Vitricus_, My +Mother's Husband. _Noverca_, My Father's Wife. _Privignus_, The Son of +my Wife or Husband. _Privigna_, The Daughter of either of them. +_Rivalis_, He that loves the same Woman another does. _Pellex_, She that +loves the same Man another does; as _Thraso_ is the Rival of +_Phroedria_, and _Europa_ the _Pellex_ of _Juno_. + + * * * * * + +_Of inviting to a Feast._ + +_Dine with me to Morrow._ + +_Pe._ I give you Thanks, I commend you, I invite you to Supper against +to Morrow, I entreat your Company at Supper to Morrow. I desire you'd +come to Dinner with me to Morrow. I would have your Company at Dinner +to Morrow. + + +_I fear I can't come._ + +_Ch._ I fear I can't. I am afraid I can't. I will come if I can; but I +am afraid I can't. + + +_Why?_ + +_Pe._ Why can't you? How so? Why so? Wherefore? For what Reason? For +what Cause? What hinders you that you can't. + + +_I must stay at Home._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I must be at Home at that Time. I must needs be at Home at +Night. I must not be abroad at that Time. I shall not have an +Opportunity to go out any where to Morrow. I must not be absent at +Dinner. I expect some Guests myself upon that Day. Some Friends have +made an Appointment to sup at our House that Night. I have some Guests +to entertain that Night, or else I would come with all my Heart. Unless +it were so, I would not be unwilling to come. If it were not so, I +should not want much entreating. I would make no Excuse if I could come. +If I could come, I would not be ask'd twice. If I could by any Means +come, I would come with a very little, or without any Invitation at all. +If I could, I would obey your Command very readily. It is in vain to ask +one that is not at his own Disposal: And there would be no need to ask +me if I could come: But at present, though I had never so much Mind, I +can't; and it would be altogether unnecessary to ask one that is +willing. + +_Pe._ Then pray let me have your Company the next Day after: However, I +must needs have your Company at Supper the next Day after to Morrow. You +must not deny me your Company four Days hence. You must make no Excuse +as to coming next Thursday. + + +_I can't promise._ + +_Ch._ I can't promise. I cannot positively promise you. I can't +certainly promise you. I will come when it shall be most convenient for +us both. + + +_You ought to set the Day._ + +_Pe._ I would have you appoint a Day when you will come to sup with me. +You must assign a Day. You must set the Day. I desire a certain Day may +be prefix'd, prescrib'd, appointed, set; but set a certain Day. I would +have you tell me the Day. + + +_I would not have you know before Hand._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I don't use to set a Day for my Friends. I am used to set a +Day for those I'm at Law with. I would not have you know before Hand. +I'll take you at unawares. I'll come unexpectedly. I will catch you when +you don't think on me. I shall take you when you don't think on me. I'll +come unlooked for. I'll come upon you before you are aware. I'll come an +uninvited and unexpected Guest. + + +_I would know before Hand._ + +_Pe._ I would know two Days before Hand. Give me Notice two Days before +you come. Make me acquainted two Days before. + +_Ch._ If you will have me, I'll make a _Sybaritical_ Appointment, that +you may have Time enough to provide afore Hand. + +_Pe._ What Appointment is that? + +_Ch._ The _Sybarites_ invited their Guests against the next Year, that +they might both have Time to be prepar'd. + +_Pe._ Away with the _Sybarites_, and their troublesome Entertainments: I +invite an old Chrony, and not a Courtier. + + +_You desire to your own Detriment._ + +_Ch._ Indeed 'tis to your Detriment. Indeed 'tis to your own Harm. To +your own Loss. You wish for it. You pray for that to your own +Ill-convenience. + +_Pe._ Why so? Wherefore. + +_Ch._ I'll come provided. I'll come prepar'd. I'll set upon you +accoutred. I'll come furnish'd with a sharp Stomach; do you take Care +that you have enough to satisfy a Vulture. I'll prepare my Belly and +whet my Teeth; do you look to it, to get enough to satisfy a Wolf. + +_Pe._ Come and welcome, I dare you to it. Come on, if you can do any +Thing, do it to your utmost, with all your Might. + +_Ch._ I'll come, but I won't come alone. + +_Pe._ You shall be the more welcome for that; but who will you bring +with you? + +_Ch._ My _Umbra_. + +_Pe._ You can't do otherwise if you come in the Day Time. + +_Ch._ Ay, but I'll bring one _Umbra_ or two that have got Teeth, that +you shan't have invited me for nothing. + +_Pe._ Well, do as you will, so you don't bring any Ghosts along with +you. But if you please explain what is the Meaning of the Word _Umbra_. + +_Ch._ Among the Learned they are call'd _Umbræ_, who being uninvited, +bear another Person, that is invited, Company to a Feast. + +_Pe._ Well, bring such Ghosts along with you as many as you will. + + * * * * * + +_I promise upon this Condition._ + +_Ch._ Well, I will come, but upon this Condition, that you shall come to +Supper with me the next Day. I will do it upon this Condition that you +shall be my Guest afterwards. Upon that Condition I promise to come to +Supper, that you again shall be my Guest. I promise I will, but upon +these Terms, that you in the like Manner shall be my Guest the next Day. +I promise I will, I give you my Word I will, upon this Consideration, +that you dine with me the next Day. + +_Pe._ Come on, let it be done, let it be so. It shall be as you would +have it. If you command me, I'll do it. I know the _French_ Ambition, +You won't sup with me, but you'll make me Amends for it. And so by this +Means Feasts use to go round. From hence it comes to pass, that it is a +long Time before we have done feasting one with another. By this +Interchangeableness Feasts become reciprocal without End. + +_Ch._ It is the pleasantest Way of Living in the World, if no more +Provision be made, but what is used to be made daily. But, I detain you, +it may be, when you are going some whither. + +_Pe._ Nay, I believe, I do you. But we'll talk more largely and more +freely to Morrow. But we'll divert ourselves to Morrow more plentifully. +In the mean Time take Care of your Health. In the mean Time take Care to +keep yourself in good Health. Farewell till then. + + * * * * * + +_Whither are you going? The Form._ + +_Ch._ Where are you a going now? Whither are you going so fast? Where +are you a going in such great Haste. Whither go you? What's your Way? + + * * * * * + +_I go Home. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I go Home. I return Home. I go to see what they are a doing at +Home. I go to call a Doctor. I am going into the Country. I made an +Appointment just at this Time to go to speak with a certain great Man. I +made an Appointment to meet a great Man at this Time. + +_Ch._ Whom? + +_Pe._ Talkative _Curio_. + +_Ch._ I wish you _Mercury_'s Assistance. + +_Pe._ What need of _Mercury_'s Assistance? + +_Ch._ Because you have to do with a Man of Words. + +_Pe._ Then it were more proper to wish the Assistance of the Goddess +_Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you'll have more Occasion for patient Ears, than a +strenuous Tongue. And the Ear is dedicated to the Goddess _Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Whither are you going? Whither will you go? + +_Pe._ This Way, to the left Hand. This Way, that Way, through the +Market. + +_Ch._ Then I'll bear you Company as far as the next Turning. + +_Pe._ I won't let you go about. You shan't put yourself to so much +Trouble on my Account. Save that Trouble till it shall be of Use, it is +altogether unnecessary at this Time. Don't go out of your Way upon my +Account. + +_Ch._ I reckon I save my Time while I enjoy the Company of so good a +Friend. I have nothing else to do, and I am not so lazy, if my Company +won't be troublesome. + +_Pe._ No Body is a more pleasant Companion. But I won't suffer you to go +on my left Hand. I won't let you walk on my left Hand. Here I bid God be +with you. I shall not bear you Company any longer. You shan't go further +with me. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Recommending._ + +_Ch._ Recommend me kindly to _Curio_. Recommend me as kindly as may be +to talkative _Curio_. Take Care to recommend me heartily to _Curio_. I +desire you have me recommended to him. I recommend myself to him by you. +I recommend myself to you again and again. I recommend myself to your +Favour with all the Earnestness possible. Leave _recommendo_ instead of +_commendo_ to _Barbarians_. See that you don't be sparing of your +Speech with one that is full of Tongue. See that you be not of few Words +with him that is a Man of many Words. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Obsequiousness._ + +_Pe._ Would you have me obey you? Would you have me be obedient? Shall I +obey you? Then you command me to imitate you. Since you would have it +so, I'll do it with all my Heart. Don't hinder me any longer; don't let +us hinder one another. + +_Ch._ But before you go, I intreat you not to think much to teach me how +I must use these Sentences, _in morâ, in causâ, in culpâ_; you use to be +studious of Elegancy. Wherefore come on, I entreat you teach me; explain +it to me, I love you dearly. + + * * * * * + +_In Culpâ, In Causâ, In Morâ._ + +_Pe._ I must do as you would have me. The Fault is not in me. It is not +in thee. The Delay is in thee. Thou art the Cause, is indeed +grammatically spoken; these are more elegant. + + +_In Culpâ._ + +I am not in the Fault. The Fault is not mine. I am without Fault. Your +Idleness has been the Cause, that you have made no Proficiency, not your +Master nor your Father. You are all in Fault. You are both in Fault. You +are both to be blam'd. Ye are both to be accus'd. You have gotten this +Distemper by your own ill Management. In like Manner they are said to be +_in vitio_, to whom the Fault is to be imputed; and _in crimine_, they +who are to be blam'd; and _in damno_, who are Losers. This sort of +Phrase is not to be inverted commonly; _Damnum in illo est. Vitium in +illo est._ + + + * * * * * + +_In Causâ._ + +Sickness has been the Occasion that I have not written to you. My +Affairs have been the Cause that I have written to you so seldom, and +not Neglect. What was the Cause? What Cause was there? I was not the +Cause. The Post-Man was in the Fault that you have had no Letters from +me. Love and not Study is the Cause of your being so lean. This is the +Cause. + + +_In Morâ._ + +I won't hinder you. What has hinder'd you? You have hindred us. You are +always a Hindrance. What hindred you? Who has hindred you? You have what +you ask'd for. It is your Duty to remember it. You have the Reward of +your Respect. Farewell, my _Christian_. + +_Ch._ And fare you well till to Morrow, my _Peter_. + + * * * * * + +_At Meeting._ + +_CHRISTIAN, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ God save you heartily, sweet _Austin_. + +_Au._ I wish the same to you, most kind _Christian_. Good Morrow to you. +I wish you a good Day; but how do you do? + +_Ch._ Very well as Things go, and I wish you what you wish for. + +_Au._ I love you deservedly. I love thee. Thou deservest to be lov'd +heartily. Thou speakest kindly. Thou art courteous. I give thee Thanks. + + * * * * * + +_I am angry with thee. The Form._ + +_Ch._ But I am something angry with you. But I am a little angry with +you. But I am a little provok'd at you. I have something to be angry +with you for. + + + * * * * * + +_For what Cause. The Form._ + +_Au._ I pray what is it? Why so? But why, I beseech you? What Crime have +I committed? What have I done? _Promereor bona_, I deserve Good; +_Commereor mala_, I deserve Ill, or Punishment: The one is used in a +good Sense, and the other in an ill. _Demeremur eum_, is said of him +that we have attach'd to us by Kindness. + + + * * * * * + +_Because you don't Regard me._ + +_Ch._ Because you take no Care of me. Because you don't regard me. +Because you come to see us so seldom. Because you wholly neglect us. +Because you quite neglect me. Because you seem to have cast off all Care +of us. + +_Au._ But there is no Cause for you to be angry. But you are angry +without my Desert, and undeservedly; for it has not been my Fault, that +I have come to see you but seldom: Forgive my Hurry of Business that has +hindered me from seeing you, as often as I would have done. + +_Ch._ I will pardon you upon this Condition, if you'll come to Supper +with me to Night. I'll quit you upon that Condition, if you come to +Supper with me in the Evening. + +_Au. Christian_, you prescribe no hard Articles of Peace, and therefore +I'll come with all my Heart. Indeed I will do it willingly. Indeed I +would do that with all Readiness in the World. I shan't do that +unwillingly. I won't want much Courting to that. There is nothing in the +World that I would do with more Readiness. I will do it with a willing +Mind. + +_Ch._ I commend your obliging Temper in this, and in all other Things. + +_Au._ I use always to be thus obsequious to my Friends, especially when +they require nothing but what's reasonable. O ridiculous! Do you think I +would refuse when offer'd me, that which I should have ask'd for of my +own Accord? + + + + * * * * * + +_Don't deceive me. The Form._ + +_Ch._ Well, but take Care you don't delude me. See you don't deceive me. +Take Care you don't make me feed a vain Hope. See you don't fail my +Expectation. See you don't disappoint me. See you don't lull me on with +a vain Hope. + +_Au._ There is no Need to swear. In other Things, in other Matters you +may be afraid of Perfidy. In this I won't deceive you. But hark you, see +that you provide nothing but what you do daily: I would have no holy Day +made upon my Account. You know that I am a Guest that am no great +Trencher Man, but a very merry Man. + +_Ch._ I'll be sure to take Care. I will entertain you with Scholars +Commons, if not with slenderer Fare. + +_Au._ Nay, if you'd please me, let it be with _Diogenes_'s Fare. + +_Ch._ You may depend upon it, I will treat you with a _Platonick_ +Supper, in which you shall have a great many learned Stories, and but a +little Meat, the Pleasure of which shall last till the next Day: whereas +they that have been nobly entertain'd, enjoy perhaps a little Pleasure +that Day, but the next are troubled with the Head-ach, and Sickness at +the Stomach. He that supp'd with _Plato_, had one Pleasure from the easy +Preparation, and Philosopher's Stories; and another the next Day, that +his Head did not ach, and that his Stomach was not sick, and so had a +good Dinner of the sauce of last Night's Supper. + +_Au._ I like it very well, let it be as you have said. + +_Ch._ Do you see that you leave all your Cares and melancholy Airs at +Home, and bring nothing hither but Jokes and Merriment; and as _Juvenal_ +says, + + _Protenus ante meum, quicquid dolet, exue limen. + + Lay all that troubles you down before my Door, before you come into it._ + +_Au._ What? Would you have me bring no Learning along with me? I will +bring my Muses with me, unless you think it not convenient. + +_Ch._ Shut up your ill-natured Muses at Home with your Business, but +bring your good-natured Muses, all your witty Jests, your By-words, your +Banters, your Pleasantries, your pretty Sayings, and all your +Ridiculosities along with you. + +_Au._ I'll do as you bid me; put on all my best Looks. We'll be merry +Fellows. We'll laugh our Bellies full. We'll make much of ourselves. +We'll feast jovially. We'll play the _Epicureans_. We'll set a good Face +on't, and be boon Blades. These are fine Phrases of clownish Fellows +that have a peculiar Way of speaking to themselves. + +_Ch._ Where are you going so fast? + +_Au._ To my Son's in Law. + +_Ch._ What do you do there? Why thither? What do you with him? + +_Au._ I hear there is Disturbance among them; I am going to make them +Friends again, to bring them to an Agreement; to make Peace among them. + +_Ch._ You do very well, though I believe they don't want you; for they +will make the Matter up better among themselves. + +_Au._ Perhaps there is a Cessation of Arms, and the Peace is to be +concluded at Night. But have you any Thing else to say to me? + +_Ch._ I will send my Boy to call you. + +_Au._ When you please. I shall be at Home. Farewell. + +_Ch._ I wish you well. See that you be here by five a-Clock. Soho +_Peter_, call _Austin_ to Supper, who you know promised to come to +Supper with me to Day. + +_Pe._ Soho! Poet, God bless you, Supper has been ready this good While, +and my Master stays for you at Home, you may come when you will. + +_Au._ I come this Minute. + + + + +_The PROFANE FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Our_ Erasmus _most elegantly proposes all the Furniture + of this Feast; the Discourses and Behaviour of the + Entertainer and the Guests_, &c. _Water and a Bason + before Dinner. The_ Stoics, _the_ Epicureans; _the Form + of the Grace at Table. It is good Wine that pleases four + Senses. Why_ Bacchus _is the Poets God; why he is painted + a Boy. Mutton very wholsome. That a Man does not live by + Bread and Wine only. Sleep makes some Persons fat. + Venison is dear. Concerning Deers, Hares, and Geese: They + of old defended the Capitol at_ Rome. _Of Cocks, Capons + and Fishes. Here is discoursed of by the by, Fasting. Of + the Choice of Meats. Some Persons Superstition in that + Matter. The Cruelty of those Persons that require these + Things of those Persons they are hurtful to; when the + eating of Fish is neither necessary, nor commanded by + Christ. The eating of Fish is condemned by Physicians. + The chief Luxury of old Time consisted in Fishes. We + should always live a sober Life. What Number of Guests + there should be at an Entertainment. The Bill of Fare of + the second Course. The Magnificence of the_ French. _The + ancient Law of Feasts. Either drink, or begone. A + Variation of Phrases. Thanksgiving after Meat._ + + +AUSTIN, CHRISTIAN, _a_ BOY. + +_Au._ O, my _Christian_, God bless you. + +_Ch._ It is very well that you are come. I am glad you're come. I +congratulate myself that you are come. I believe it has not struck five +yet. + +_Boy._ Yes, it is a good While past five. It is not far from six. It is +almost six. You'll hear it strike six presently. + +_Au._ It is no great Matter whether I come before five or after five, as +long as I am not come after Supper; for that is a miserable Thing, to +come after a Feast is over. What's all this great Preparation for? What +means all this Provision? What, do you think I'm a Wolf? Do you take me +for a Wolf? Do you think I'm a Vulture? + +_Ch._ Not a Vulture, nor yet do I think you a Grashopper, to live upon +Dew. Here is nothing of Extravagancy, I always lov'd Neatness, and abhor +Slovenliness. I am for being neither luxurious nor niggardly. We had +better leave than lack. If I dress'd but one Dish of Peas, and the Soot +should chance to fall in the Pot and spoil it, what should we have to +eat then? Nor does every Body love one Thing; therefore I love a +moderate Variety. + +_Au._ An't you afraid of the sumptuary Laws? + +_Ch._ Nay, I most commonly offend on the contrary Side. There is no need +of the _Fannian_ Law at our House. The Slenderness of my Income teaches +me Frugality sufficiently. + +_Au._ This is contrary to our Agreement. You promised me quite +otherwise. + +_Ch._ Well, Mr. Fool, you don't stand to your Agreement. For it was +agreed upon that you should bring nothing but merry Tales. But let us +have done with these Matters, and wash, and sit down to Supper. Soho, +Boy, bring a little Water and a Bason; hang a Towel over your Shoulder, +pour out some Water. What do you loiter for? Wash, _Austin_. + +_Au._ Do you wash first. + +_Ch._ Pray excuse me. I had rather eat my Supper with unwashen Hands +this twelve Months. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! 'Tis not he that is the most honourable, but he +that is the dirtiest that should wash first; then do you wash as the +dirtiest. + +_Ch._ You are too complaisant. You are more complaisant than enough; +than is fitting. But to what Purpose is all this Ceremony? Let us leave +these trifling Ceremonies to Women, they are quite kick'd out of the +Court already, although they came from thence at first. Wash three or +four at a Time. Don't let us spend the Time in these Delays. I won't +place any Body, let every one take what Place he likes best. He that +loves to sit by the Fire, will sit best here. He that can't bear the +Light let him take this Corner. He that loves to look about him, let him +sit here. Come, here has been Delays enough. Sit down. I am at Home, +I'll take my Supper standing, or walking about, which I like best. Why +don't you sit down, Supper will be spoiled. + +_Au._ Now let us enjoy ourselves, and eat heartily. Now let us be +_Epicures_. We have nothing to do with Superciliousness. Farewell Care, +let all Ill-will and Detraction be banished. Let us be merry, pleasant, +and facetious. + +_Ch. Austin_, pray who are those _Stoics_ and _Epicures_? + +_Au._ The _Stoics_ are a certain melancholy, rigid, parcimonious Sect of +Philosophers, who make the _Summum bonum_ of Mankind, to consist in a +certain, I can't tell what, _honestum_. The _Epicures_ are the Reverse +of these, and they make the Felicity of a Man to consist in Pleasure. + +_Ch._ Pray what Sect are you of, a _Stoic_ or an _Epicure_? + +_Au._ I recommend _Zeno_'s Rules; but I follow _Epicurus_'s Practice. + +_Ch. Austin_, what you speak in Jest, a great many do in Earnest, and +are only Philosophers by their Cloaks and Beards. + +_Au._ Nay, indeed they out-live the _Asots_ in Luxury. + +_Ch. Dromo_, come hither. Do your Office, say Grace. + +_Boy._ "May he that feeds all Things by his Bounty, command his Blessing +upon what is or shall be set upon this Table. Amen." + +_Ch._ Set the Victuals on the Table. Why do we delay to eat up this +Capon? Why are we afraid to carve this Cock? + +_Au._ I'll be _Hercules_, and slay this Beast. Which had you rather +have, a Wing or a Leg? + +_Ch._ Which you will, I don't matter which. + +_Au._ In this Sort of Fowls the Wing is look'd upon the best; in other +Fowls the Leg is commonly esteemed the greater dainty Bit. + +_Ch._ I put you to a great Deal of Trouble. You take a great Deal of +Trouble upon you, upon my Account. You help every Body else, and eat +nothing yourself. I'll help you to this Wing; but upon this Condition, +that you shall give me Half of it back. + +_Au._ Say you so, that is serving yourself and not me; keep it for +yourself. I am not so bashful as to want any Body to help me. + +_Ch._ You do very well. + +_Au._ Do you carve for a Wolf? Have you invited a Vulture? + +_Ch._ You fast. You don't eat. + +_Au._ I eat more than any Body. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather, you lye more than any Body. Pray be as free as if you +were at your own House. + +_Au._ I take myself to be there. I do so. I am resolv'd so to do. I +design to do so. + +_Ch._ How does this Wine please you? Does this Wine please your Palate? + +_Au._ Indeed it pleases me very well. Indeed it pleases mightily. It +pleases me well enough. It pleases me very well. + +_Ch._ Which had you rather have, Red or White? + +_It is no Matter what Colour it is._ + +_Au._ Indeed I like both alike. It is no Matter what Colour 'tis, so the +Taste be pleasing. I don't much mind how the Wine pleases the Eye, so it +do but please the Palate. I an't much mov'd at the Sight of it, if the +Taste be but grateful. It is no great Matter what Colour it is of, or +what Colour it has, if it does but taste well. I don't desire to please +my Eyes if I can but please my Taste. If it do but please the Palate, I +don't regard the Colour, if it be well relish'd. + +_Ch._ I believe so: But there are some Persons that are mighty deeply +read in Table Philosophy, who deny that the Wine can be good, unless it +pleases four Senses: The Eye, with its Colour; the Nose, with its Smell; +the Palate, with its Taste; the Ears, by its Fame and Name. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! What signifies Fame to Drink? + +_Ch._ As much as many that have a good Palate mightily approve of +_Lovain_ Wine, when they believe it to be _Bern_ Wine. + +_Au._ It may be, they had spoiled their Palate by much Drinking. + +_Ch._ No, before they had drank one Drop. But I have a Mind to hear your +Opinion, who are a Man of great Skill in these Matters. + +_Au._ Our Countrymen prefer White before Red, because the Red is a +little more upon the Acid, and the White a smaller Wine; but that is the +milder, and in my Opinion the more wholsome. + +_Ch._ We have a pale red Wine, and a yellow Wine, and a purple Colour +Wine. This is new Wine, this Year's Wine. This is two Years old, if any +Body is for an old Wine. We have some four Years old, but it is grown +flat and dead with Age. The Strength is gone with Age. + +_Au._ Why, you're as rich as _Lucullus_. + +_Ch._ Soho, Boy, where are you a loitering? You give us no Attendance; +don't you see we have no Wine here? What if a Fire should happen now? +How should we put it out? Give every one a full Glass. _Austin_, What's +the matter that you are not merry? What makes you sit so Melancholy? +What's the Matter with you, that you an't chearful? You are either +troubled at something, or you're making Verses. You play the +_Crysippus_ now, you want a _Melissa_ to feed you. + +_Au._ What Story is this you are telling me of? + +_Ch. Crysippus_ is reported to have been so intent upon his logical +Subtilties, that he would have been starved at Table, unless his Maid +_Melissa_ had put the Meat into his Mouth. + +_Au._ He did not deserve to have his Life sav'd; but if Silence is an +Offence to you, and you love a noisy Feast, you have gotten that will +make one. + +_Ch._ I remember I have. That's very well minded: We must drink more +freely, we ought to drink more largely, more Wine and less Water. + + _You have hit on the Matter._ + +_Au._ You have hit the Nail on the Head. You are in the Right. You have +hit the Mark. For, + +_Foecundi calices quem non fecere disertum?_ + +_Ch._ That is very learnedly spoken, _Austin_, and so indeed is all that +comes from you; but since we are fallen into a Discourse concerning +Wine, since we have happen'd to make mention of Wine, I have a mind to +ask you, for what Reason the Ancients, who will have _Bacchus_ the +Inventor of Wine, call him the God of the Poets? What has that drunken +God to do with Poets, who are the Votaries of the Virgin Muses? + +_Au._ By _Bacchus_, this is a Question fit to be put over a Bottle. But +I see very well, what your Question drives at. + +_Ch._ What, prithee? + +_Au._ You very cunningly put a Question about Wine, by a _French_ Trick, +which I believe you learn'd at _Paris_, that you may save your Wine by +that Means. Ah, go your Way, I see you're a Sophister; you have made a +good Proficiency in that School. + +_Ch._ Well, I take all your Jokes; I'll return the like to you, when +Opportunity shall offer. But to the Matter in Hand. + +_Au._ I'll go on, but I'll drink first, for it is absurd to dispute +about a tippling Question with a dry Throat. Here's to you _Christian_. +Half this Cup to you. + +_Ch._ I thank you kindly. God bless it to you, much good may it do you. + +_Au._ Now I'm ready, at your Service. I'll do it as well as I can after +my Manner. That they have given a Boy's Face to _Bacchus_, has this +Mystery in it; that Wine being drank, takes away Cares and Vexations +from our Minds, and adds a Sort of a Chearfulness to them. And for this +Reason, it adds a Sort of Youthfulness even to old Men, in that it makes +them more chearful, and of a better Complexion. The same thing _Horace_ +in many Places, and particularly testifies in these Verses: + + _Ad mare cum veni, generosum et lene requiro, + Quod curas abigat, quod cum spe divite manet. + In venas, animumque meum, quod verba ministret. + Quod me Lucanoe juvenem commendet amicæ._ + +For that they have assign'd the Poets to this Deity, I believe by it +they design'd to intimate this, that Wine both stirs up Wit and +administers Eloquence; which two Things are very fit for Poets. Whence +it comes to pass, that your Water Drinkers make poor Verses. For +_Bacchus_ is of a fiery Constitution naturally, but he is made more +temperate, being united with the Nymphs. Have you been answer'd to your +Satisfaction? + +_Ch._ I never heard any Thing more to the Purpose from a Poet. You +deserve to drink out of a Cup set with Jewels. Boy, take away this Dish, +and set on another. + +_Au._ You have got a very clownish Boy. + +_Ch._ He is the unluckiest Knave in the World. + +_Au._ Why don't you teach him better Manners? + +_Ch._ He is too old to learn. It is a hard matter to mend the Manners of +an old Sinner. An old Dog won't be easily brought to wear the Collar. +He's well enough for me. Like Master like Man. + + + * * * * * + +_If I knew what you lik'd, I would help you._ + +_Au._ I would cut you a Slice, if I knew what would please you. I would +help you, if I knew your Palate. I would help you, if I knew what you +lik'd best. If I knew the Disposition of your Palate, I would be your +Carver. Indeed my Palate is like my Judgment. + +_Ch._ You have a very nice Palate. No Body has a nicer Palate than you +have. I don't think you come behind him of whose exquisite Skill the +Satyrist says, + + _Ostrea callebat primo deprendere morsu, + Et semel aspecti dicebat littus echini._ + +_Au._ And you, my _Christian_, that I may return the Compliment, seem to +have been Scholar to _Epicurus_, or brought up in the _Catian_ School. +For what's more delicate or nice than your Palate? + +_Ch._ If I understood Oratory so well as I do Cookery, I'd challenge +_Cicero_ himself. + +_Au._ Indeed if I must be without one, I had rather want Oratory than +Cookery. + +_Ch._ I am entirely of your Mind, you judge gravely, wisely, and truly. +For what is the Prattle of Orators good for, but to tickle idle Ears +with a vain Pleasure? But Cookery feeds and repairs the Palate, the +Belly, and the whole Man, let him be as big as he will. _Cicero_ says, +_Concedat laurea lingæ_; but both of them must give place to Cookery. I +never very well liked those _Stoicks_, who referring all things to their +(I can't tell what) _honestum_, thought we ought to have no regard to +our Persons and our Palates. _Aristippus_ was wiser than _Diogenes_ +beyond Expression in my Opinion. + +_Au._ I despise the _Stoicks_ with all their Fasts. But I praise and +approve _Epicurus_ more than that _Cynic Diogenes_, who lived upon raw +Herbs and Water; and therefore I don't wonder that _Alexander_, that +fortunate King, had rather be _Alexander_ than _Diogenes_. + +_Ch._ Nor indeed would I myself, who am but an ordinary Man, change my +Philosophy for _Diogenes_'s; and I believe your _Catius_ would refuse +to do it too. The Philosophers of our Time are wiser, who are content to +dispute like _Stoicks_, but in living out-do even _Epicurus_ himself. +And yet for all that, I look upon Philosophy to be one of the most +excellent Things in Nature, if used moderately. I don't approve of +philosophising too much, for it is a very jejune, barren, and melancholy +Thing. When I fall into any Calamity or Sickness, then I betake myself +to Philosophy, as to a Physician; but when I am well again, I bid it +farewell. + +_Au._ I like your Method. You do philosophize very well. Your humble +Servant, Mr. Philosopher; not of the _Stoick_ School, but the Kitchen. + +_Ch._ What is the Matter with you, _Erasmus_, that you are so +melancholy? What makes you look so frowningly? What makes you so silent? +Are you angry with me because I have entertained you with such a slender +Supper? + +_Er._ Nay, I am angry with you that you have put your self to so much +Charge upon my Account. _Austin_ laid a strict Charge upon you that you +would provide nothing extraordinary upon his Account. I believe you have +a Mind we should never come to see you again; for they give such a +Supper as this that intended to make but one. What sort of Guests did +you expect? You seem to have provided not for Friends, but for Princes. +Do you think we are Gluttons? This is not to entertain one with a +Supper, but victualling one for three Days together. + +_Ch._ You will be ill-humour'd. Dispute about that Matter to-Morrow; +pray be good humour'd to-Day. We'll talk about the Charge to-Morrow; I +have no Mind to hear any Thing but what is merry at this time. + +_Au. Christian_, whether had you rather have, Beef or Mutton? + +_Ch._ I like Beef best, but I think Mutton is the most wholsome. It is +the Disposition of Mankind to be most desirous of those Things that are +the most hurtful. + +_Au._ The _French_ are wonderful Admirers of Pork. + +_Ch._ The _French_ love that most that costs least. + +_Au._ I am a Jew in this one Thing, there is nothing I hate so much as +Swine's Flesh. + +_Ch._ Nor without Reason, for what is more unwholsome? In this I am not +of the _French_ Man's but of the _Jew's_ Mind. + +_Er._ But I love both Mutton and Pork, but for a different Reason; for I +eat freely of Mutton, because I love it; but Hogs Flesh I don't touch, +by Reason of Love, that I may not give Offence. + +_Ch._ You are a clever Man, _Erasmus_, and a very merry one too. Indeed +I am apt to admire from whence it comes to pass that there is such a +great Diversity in Mens Palates, for if I may make use of this Verse of +_Horace_, + + Tres mihi convivæ propè dissentire videntur, + Poscentes vario multùm diversa palato. + +_Er._ Although as the Comedian says, _So many Men, so many Minds_, and +every Man has his own Way; yet no Body can make me believe, there is +more Variety in Mens Dispositions, than there is in their Palates: So +that you can scarce find two that love the same Things. I have seen a +great many, that can't bear so much as the Smell of Butter and Cheese: +Some loath Flesh; one will not eat roast Meat, and another won't eat +boil'd. There are many that prefer Water before Wine. And more than +this, which you'll hardly believe; I have seen a Man who would neither +eat Bread, nor drink Wine. + +_Ch._ What did that poor Man live on? + +_Er._ There was nothing else but what he could eat; Meat, Fish, Herbs +and Fruit. + +_Ch._ Would you have me believe you? + +_Er._ Yes, if you will. + +_Ch._ I will believe you; but upon this Condition, that you shall +believe me when I tell a Lye. + +_Er._ Well, I will do it, so that you lye modestly. + +_Ch._ As if any Thing could be more impudent than your Lye. + +_Er._ What would your Confidence say, if I should shew you the Man? + +_Ch._ He must needs be a starveling Fellow, a meer Shadow. + +_Er._ You'd say he was a Champion. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather a _Polyphemus_. + +_Er._ I wonder this should seem so strange to you, when there are a +great many that eat dry'd Fish instead of Bread: And some that the Roots +of Herbs serve for the same Use that Bread does us. + +_Ch._ I believe you; lye on. + +_Er._ I remember, I saw a Man when I was in _Italy_, that grew fat with +Sleep, without the Assistance either of Meat or Drink. + +_Ch._ Fie for Shame; I can't forbear making Use of that Expression of +the Satyrist, + + Tunc immensa cavi spirant mendacia folles. + +Thou poeticisest. You play the Part of a Poet. I am loath to give you +the Lye. + +_Er._ I am the greatest Lyar in the World, if _Pliny_, an Author of +undoubted Credit, has not written, that a Bear in fourteen Days Time +will grow wonderfully fat with nothing but Sleep: And that he will sleep +so sound, that you can scarce wake him, by wounding him: Nay, to make +you admire the more, I will add what _Theophrastus_ writes, that during +that Time, if the Flesh of the Bear be boil'd, and kept some Time, it +will come to Life again. + +_Ch._ I am afraid that _Parmeno_ in _Terence_ will hardly be able to +comprehend these Things. I believe it readily. I would help you to some +Venison, if I were well enough accomplished. + +_Er._ Where have you any Hunting now? How came you by Venison? + +_Ch._ _Midas_, the most generous spirited Man living, and a very good +Friend of mine, sent it me for a Present; but so, that I oftentimes buy +it for less. + +_Er._ How so? + +_Ch._ Because I am obliged to give more to his Servants, than I could +buy it for in the Market. + +_Er._ Who obliges you to that? + +_Ch._ The most violent Tyrant in the World. + +_Er._ Who is he? + +_Ch._ Custom. + +_Er._ Indeed, that Tyrant does frequently impose the most unjust Laws +upon Mankind. + +_Ch._ The same Tyrant hunted this Stag, but the Day before Yesterday. +What did you do, who used to be a very great Lover of that Sport? + +_Au._ Indeed I have left off that Sport, and now I hunt after nothing +but Learning. + +_Ch._ In my Opinion, Learning is fleeter than any Stag. + +_Au._ But I hunt chiefly with two Dogs, that is to say, with Love and +Industry: For Love affords a great Deal of Eagerness to learn, and as +the most elegant Poet says, + + ----_Labor improbus omnia vincit._ + +_Ch. Austin_, you admonish after a friendly Manner, as you use to do; +and therefore, I won't give over, nor rest, nor tire, till I attain. + +_Au._ Venison is now in the Prime. _Pliny_ tells us a very admirable +Story concerning this Animal. + +_Ch._ What is it, I pray you? + +_Au._ That as often as they prick up their Ears, they are very quick of +Hearing; but on the contrary, when they let them down, they are deaf. + +_Ch._ That very often happens to myself; for if I happen to hear a Word +spoken of receiving Guineas, there is no Body quicker of Hearing than I; +for then with _Pamphilus_ in _Terence_, I prick up my Ears; but when +there is any Mention made of paying them away, I let them down, and am +presently hard of Hearing. + +_Au._ Well, I commend you; you do as you should do. + +_Ch._ Would you have some of the Leg of this Hare? + +_Au._ Take it yourself. + +_Ch._ Or had you rather have some of the Back? + +_Au._ This Creature has nothing good but its Flank and hind Legs. + +_Ch._ Did you ever see a white Hare? + +_Au._ Oftentimes. _Pliny_ writes, that on the _Alps_ there are white +Hares; and that it is believed in the Winter Time they feed upon Snow: +Whether it be true or no, let _Pliny_ see to that: For if Snow makes a +Hare's Skin white, it must make his Stomach white too. + +_Ch._ I don't know but it may be true. + +_Au._ I have something for you that is stranger than that; but it may be +you have heard of it. The same Man testifies that there is the same +Nature in all of them; that is, of Males and Females, and that the +Females do as commonly breed without the Use of the Male, as with it. +And many Persons assert the same, and especially your skilful Hunters. + +_Ch._ You say right; but if you please, let us try these Rabbets, for +they are fat and tender. I would help that pretty Lady if I sat nigher +to her. _Austin_, pray take Care of that Lady that sits by you, for you +know how to please the fair Sex. + +_Au._ I know what you mean, you Joker. + +_Ch._ Do you love Goose? + +_Au._ Ay, I love 'em mightily, and I an't very nice. I don't know what's +the Matter, but this Goose don't please me; I never saw any Thing dryer +in all my Life; it is dryer than a Pumice-Stone, or _Furius_'s Mother in +Law, upon whom _Catullus_ breaks so many Jests. I believe it is made of +Wood; And in Troth I believe 'tis an old Soldier, that has worn itself +out with being upon the Guard. They say a Goose is the most wakeful +Creature living. In Truth, if I am not out in my Guess, this Goose was +one of them, who when the Watch and their Dogs were fast asleep, in old +Time defended the _Roman_ Capitol. + +_Ch._ As I hope to live I believe it was, for I believe it liv'd in that +Age. + +_Au._ And this Hen was either half starv'd, or else was in love, or was +jealous; for this Sort of Creatures are much troubled with that +Distemper. This Capon fatten'd much better; see what Cares will do. If +we were to geld our _Theodoricus_, he would grow fat much the sooner. + +_Th._ I an't a Cock. + +_Au._ I confess you are not _Gallus Cybeles_, nor a Dunghil-Cock; but it +may be you are _Gallus Gallaceus_. + +_Ch._ What Word is that? + +_Au._ I leave that Word to be unriddled by you: I am _Sphinx_, and you +shall be _Oedipus_. + +_Ch. Austin_, tell me truly, have you had no Conversation with _French_ +Men, have you had no Affinity with them? Had you nothing to do with +them? + +_Au._ None at all, indeed. + +_Ch._ Then you are so much the worse. + +_Au._ But perhaps I have had to do with _French_ Women. + +_Ch._ Will you have any of this Goose's Liver? This was look'd upon as a +great Delicacy by the Ancients. + +_Au._ I will refuse nothing that comes from your Hand. + +_Ch._ You must not expect _Roman_ Dainties. + +_Au._ What are they? + +_Ch._ Thistles, Cockles, Tortoises, Conger-Eels, Mushrooms, Truffles, +etc. + +_Au._ I had rather have a Turnip than any of them. You are liberal and +bountiful, _Christian_. + +_Ch._ No Body touches these Partridges nor the Pigeons, to-Morrow is a +Fast-Day appointed by the Church; prepare against that Hunger; Ballast +your Ship against the impending Storm. War is a coming, furnish your +Belly with Provision. + +_Au._ I wish you had kept that Word in, we should have risen from Supper +more merrily. You torment us before the Time. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Au._ Because I hate Fish worse than I do a Snake. + +_Ch._ You are not alone. + +_Au._ Who brought in this troublesome Custom? + +_Ch._ Who order'd you to take Aloes, Wormwood and Scammony in Physick? + +_Au._ But these Things are given to Folks that are sick. + +_Ch._ So these Things are given to them that are too well. It is better +sometimes to be sick, than to be too well. + +_Au._ In my Opinion the _Jews_ themselves did not labour under such a +Burden. Indeed I could easily refrain from Eels and Swines Flesh, if I +might fill my Belly with Capons and Partridges. + +_Ch._ In a great many Circumstances it is not the Thing, but the Mind +that distinguishes us from _Jews_; they held their Hands from certain +Meats, as from unclean Things, that would pollute the Mind; but we, +understanding that _to the Pure, all Things are pure_, yet take away +Food from the wanton Flesh, as we do Hay from a pamper'd Horse, that it +may be more ready to hearken to the Spirit. We sometimes chastise the +immoderate Use of pleasant Things, by the Pain of Abstinence. + +_Au._ I hear you; but by the same Argument, Circumcision of the Flesh +may be defended; for that moderates the Itch of Coition, and brings +Pain. If all hated Fish as bad as I do, I would scarce put a Parricide +to so much Torture. + +_Ch._ Some Palates are better pleas'd with Fish than Flesh. + +_Au._ Then they like those Things that please their Gluttony, but don't +make for their Health. + +_Ch._ I have heard of some of the _Æsops_ and _Apitius_'s, that have +look'd upon Fish as the greatest Delicacy. + +_Au._ How then do Dainties agree with Punishment? + +_Ch._ Every Body han't Lampreys, Scares, and Sturgeons. + +_Au._ Then it is only the poor Folks that are tormented, with whom it is +bad enough, if they were permitted to eat Flesh; and it often happens, +that when they may eat Flesh for the Church, they can't for their Purse. + +_Ch._ Indeed, a very hard Injunction! + +_Au._ And if the Prohibition of Flesh be turned to delicious Living to +the Rich; and if the Poor can't eat Flesh many Times, when otherwise +they might, nor can't eat Fish, because they are commonly the dearer; to +whom does the Injunction do good? + +_Ch._ To all; for poor Folks may eat Cockles or Frogs, or may gnaw upon +Onions or Leeks. The middle Sort of People will make some Abatement in +their usual Provision; and though the Rich do make it an Occasion of +living deliciously, they ought to impute that to their Gluttony, and not +blame the Constitution of the Church. + +_Au._ You have said very well; but for all that, to require Abstinence +from Flesh of poor Folks, who feed their Families by the Sweat of their +Brows, and live a great Way from Rivers and Lakes, is the same Thing as +to command a Famine, or rather a _Bulimia_. And if we believe _Homer_, +it is the miserablest Death in the World to be starv'd to Death. + +_Ch._ So it seem'd to blind _Homer_; but with _Christians_, he is not +miserable that dies well. + +_Au._ Let that be so; yet it is a very hard Thing to require any Body to +die. + +_Ch._ The Popes don't prohibit the eating of Flesh with that Design, to +kill Men, but that they may be moderately afflicted if they have +transgress'd; or that taking away their pleasant Food, their Bodies may +be less fierce against the Spirit. + +_Au._ The moderate Use of Flesh would effect that. + +_Ch._ But in so great a Variety of Bodies certain Bounds of Flesh can't +be prescrib'd, a Kind of Food may. + +_Au._ There are Fishes that yield much Aliment, and there are Sorts of +Flesh that yield but little. + +_Ch._ But in general Flesh is most nourishing. + +_Au._ Pray tell me, if you were to go a Journey any whither, would you +chuse a lively Horse that was a little wanton, or a diseased Horse, who +would often stumble and throw his Rider? + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ Because Fish-eating, by its corrupt Humours, renders the Body +liable to a great many Diseases, that it can't subserve the Spirit as it +should do. + +_Ch._ To what Diseases? + +_Au._ Gouts, Fevers, Leprosies, the King's-Evil. + +_Ch._ How do you know? + +_Au._ I believe Physicians. I had rather do so than try the Experiment. + +_Ch._ Perhaps that happens to a few. + +_Au._ Indeed I believe to a great many; besides, in as much as the Mind +acts by the material Organs of the Body, which are affected with good or +bad Humours, the Instruments being vitiated, it can't exert its Power as +it would. + +_Ch._ I know Doctors do very much find Fault with the eating of Fish; +but our Ancestors thought otherwise, and it is our Duty to obey them. + +_Au._ It was a Piece of Religion formerly not to break the Sabbath; but +for all that, it was more eligible to save a Man on the Sabbath-Day. + +_Ch._ Every one consults his own Health. + +_Au._ If we will obey St. _Paul, Let no Body mind his own Things, but +every one the Things of another_. + +_Ch._ How come we by this new Divine at our Table? Whence comes this new +upstart Master of ours? + +_Au._ Because I don't like Fishes. + +_Ch._ What, then won't you abstain from Flesh? + +_Au._ I do abstain, but grumblingly, and to my great Detriment too. + +_Ch. Charity suffers all Things._ + +_Au._ It is true; but then the same requires but little. If it suffers +all Things, why won't it suffer us to eat those Meats the Gospel has +given us a Liberty to eat? Why do those Persons, from whom Christ has so +often required the Love of himself, suffer so many Bodies of Men to be +endanger'd by capital Diseases, and their Souls to be in Danger of +eternal Damnation, because of a Thing neither forbidden by _Christ_, nor +necessary in itself? + +_Ch._ When Necessity requires it, the Force of a human Constitution +ceases, and the Will of the Lawgiver ceases. + +_Au._ But the Offence of the Weak does not cease. The Scruple of a +tender Conscience does not cease. And lastly, it is uncertain with what +Limits that Necessity shall be bounded; shall it be when the Fish-eater +shall be a giving up the Ghost? It is too late to give Flesh to a Man +when he is dying; or shall it be when his Body becomes all feverish? +The Choice of Meats is not of so much Consequence. + +_Ch._ What would you have prescrib'd then? + +_Au._ I can tell well enough, if I might be allow'd to be a Dictator in +Ecclesiastical Affairs. + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ If I were Pope I would exhort all Persons to a perpetual Sobriety +of Life, but especially before an holy-Day; and moreover, I would give +every one leave to eat what he would, for the Health of his Body, so he +did it moderately, and with Thanksgiving; and I would endeavour that +what was abated of these Observations should be made up in the Study of +true Piety. + +_Ch._ That in my Opinion is of so great Weight, that we ought to make +you Pope. + +_Au._ For all your laughing, this Neck could bear a triple Crown. + +_Ch._ But in the mean Time take Care that these Things be not enter'd +down in the _Sorbon_ at _Paris_. + +_Au._ Nay, rather let what is said be written in Wine, as it is fit +those Things should that are said over our Cups; but we have had +Divinity enough for a Feast We are at Supper, not at the _Sorbon_. + +_Ch._ Why mayn't that be call'd _Sorbon_ where we sup plentifully? + +_Au._ Well, let us sup then, and not dispute, lest the _Sorbon_ be +called after us from _Sorbis_, and not from _Sorbendo_. + +_CHRISTIAN, GUESTS, MIDAS, ERASMUS, the BOY, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ Well, come my kind Guests, I pray you that you would take this +little Supper in good Part, though it be but a slender one. Be merry and +good humour'd, though the Supper be but mean and slender. I, relying +upon your Familiarity, made bold to invite you; and I will assure you, +your Company and Presence is not only very grateful to me, but very +pleasant. + +_Gu._ We do assure you, good _Christian_, that we esteem your Supper to +have been very pretty and noble; and we have nothing to find Fault with, +but that you make Excuses for it, for that it was very magnificent; for +indeed I look upon the Entertainment to be splendid to the greatest +degree, that in the first Place consisted of Courses agreeable to +Nature, and was season'd with Mirth, Laughter, Jokes and Witticisms, +none of which have been wanting in our Entertainment. But here is +something comes into my Mind, as to the Number of the Guests, which +_Varro_ writes, _should not be fewer than three, nor more than nine_. +For the _Graces_, who are the Presidents of Humanity and Benevolence, +are three; and the _Muses_, that are the Guides of commendable Studies, +are nine; and I see here we have ten Guests besides the Virgins. + +_Au._ Nothing could happen more agreeably; we are in that something +wiser than _Varro_, for we have gotten here three pretty Maids for the +three _Graces_; and as it is not to be thought that _Apollo_ is ever +absent from the Chorus of the _Muses_, we have very much _à propos_ +added the tenth Guest. + +_Ch._ You have spoken very much like a Poet. If I had a Laurel here I +would crown you with it, and you should be Poet Laureat. + +_Au._ If I were crown'd with Mallows, I should be Poet _Maleat_; I do +not arrogate that Honour to myself. This is an Honour that I don't +deserve. + + ------_Haud equidem tali me dignor honore._ + +_Ch._ Will you, every one of you, do as much for me as I will do for +you? + +_Gu._ Ay, that we will with all our Hearts. + +_Ch._ Then let every one drink off his Cup round as I do. Here's to you +first, _Midas_. + +_Mi._ I thank you heartily. I pledge you heartily; for which the Vulgar +says _Præstolor_. Indeed I won't refuse. I won't refuse any Thing for +your Sake. + +_Ch._ Now do you drink to the rest. + +_Mi. Erasmus_, Half this Cup to you. + +_Er._ I pray it may do you good. May it do you good. Much good may it do +you. _Proficiat_ is an out of the Way Word. + +_Ch._ Why does the Cup stand still? Why does it not go about? Is our +Wine gone? Where are your Eyes, you Rascal? Run quickly, fetch two +Quarts of the same Wine. + +_Boy. Erasmus_, your humble Servant, there is one wants to speak with +you at the Door. + +_Er._ Who is it? + +_Boy._ He says he is one Mr. _More_'s, Man, his Master is come out of +_Britain_, and he desires you would make him a Visit, because he sets +out for _Germany_ to-Morrow by Break of Day. + +_Er. Christian_, gather the Reckoning, for I must be going. + +_Ch._ The Reckoning, most learned _Erasmus_, of this Supper, I will +discharge that. You have no Need to put your Hand in your Pocket. I +thank you that you honour'd me with your Company; but I am sorry you are +called away before the Comedy is ended. + +_Er._ Have I any Thing more to do but to bid you _Farewell and be +merry?_ + +_Ch._ Farewell, we can't take it amiss, because you don't leave a +Shoulder of Mutton for a Sheep's-Head, but go from Friends to a better +Friend. + +_Er._ And I in like Manner return you my Thanks, that you have been so +kind as to invite me to this most pleasant Entertainment. My very good +Friends, fare ye well. Drink heartily, and live merrily. + +_Ch._ Soho, _Dromo_. You, all of you, have sitten still a good While. +Does any Body please to have any Thing else? + +_Gu._ Nothing at all. We have eat very plentifully. + +_Ch._ Then take away these Things, and set on the Desert. Change the +Trenchers and the Plates. Take up my Knife that is fallen down. Pour +some Wine over the Pears. Here are some early ripe Mulberries that grew +in my own Garden. + +_Gu._ They will be the better for being of your own Growth. + +_Ch._ Here are some wheaten Plumbs: See, here are Damascens, a rare +Sight with us: See, here are mellow Apples; and here is a new Sort of an +Apple, the Stock of which I set with my own Hands; and Chestnuts, and +all Kinds of Delicacies, which our Gardens produce plentifully. + +_Au._ But here are no Flowers. + +_Ch._ They are _French_ Entertainments, who love that Sort of Splendor +most that costs least; but that is not my Humour. + +_Au._ 'Tis not only among _Frenchmen_ that you will find those that love +what is of little Cost. + +_Ch._ But hark you, _Austin_, do you think to come off so? What, won't +you pledge me when I drink to you? You ought to have taken off Half the +Cup of him that drank to you. + +_Au._ He excused me for that a great While ago. He discharg'd me of that +Obligation. + +_Ch._ Pray who gave him that Power? The Pope himself can hardly dispense +with this Obligation. You know the ancient Law of Drinking, _Either +drink or go your Way_. + +_Au._ He that an Oath is made to has Power to suspend it, and especially +he, whose Concern it was to have it kept. + +_Ch._ But it is the Duty of all Guests to observe Laws inviolably. + +_Au._ Well, come on, since this is the _German_ Custom, I'll drink what +is left. But what Business have you with me? + +_Ch._ You must pay for all. Why do you look pale? Don't be afraid, you +may do it very easily, do as you have often done, that by some Elegancy +we may rise from Table more learned; nor are you ignorant that the +Ancients over the second Course used to dispute of some more diverting +Subjects. Come on then, by what, and after how many Ways may this +Sentence be vary'd, _Indignum auditu?_ + + + * * * * * + +_It is not worth hearing. The Form._ + +_Au._ You have very fitly made Use of the latter Supine. It is not worth +hearing. It is unworthy to be heard. It is not worthy to be heard. It is +so light it ought not to be heard. It is scarce worth While to relate. +It is not of such Value as to be heard. It is too silly to be heard. It +is not worth While to tell it. + +_Ch._ How many Ways may this Sentence be turn'd, _Magno mihi constat?_ + + * * * * * + +_The Ratio of varying this Sentence._ + +_Magno mihi constat._ + +_Au._ By these Words, _impendo, insumo, impertio, constat_, as: I have +taken Pains much in teaching you. I have taken much Pains in that +Matter. I have not spent less Money than I have Care upon that Matter. I +have not spent a little Money, but much Time, and very much Labour, and +some Study. I have spent much Study. This Thing has cost me many a +Night's Sleep, much Sweat, much Endeavour, very much Labour, a great +Expence, a great Deal of Money. It has cost me more than you believe. My +Wife stands me in less than my Horse. + +_Ch._ But what is the meaning, _Austin_, that you put sometimes an +Ablative, and sometimes a Genitive Case to the Verb _constat_? + +_Au._ You have stated a very useful and very copious Question. But that +I may not be troublesome to the Company by my too much Talk, I will +dispatch it in a few Words. But I desire to hear every Man's Opinion, +that I may not be troublesome to any Man, as I have said. + +_Ch._ But why may not the Damsels desire the same? + +_Au._ Indeed they do nothing else but hear. I'll attempt it with +_Grammatica_'s Assistance. "You know that Verbs of buying and selling, +and some others, are of a like Signification, to which these Genitives +are put alone, without Substantives, _tanti, quanti, pluris, minoris, +tantidem, quantivis, quanticunque_: But in Case Substantives be not +added, which, if they happen to be put, they are both turned into the +Ablative Case; so that if a certain Price be set down, you put it in the +Ablative Case; if by an Adjective put substantively, you put it in the +Ablative Case, unless you had rather make Use of an Adverb." + +_Ch._ What are those Verbs that you speak of? + +_Au._ "They are commonly _emo, mereor; redimo_, (that is a Thing either +taken or lost) _vendo, venundo; revendo_, (that is, I sell again that +which was sold to me) _veneo_, (that is, I am sold) whose Prater Tense +is _venivi_, or _venii_, the Supine _venum_; hence comes _venalis_; and +from that, _i.e._ _vendo_, comes _vendibilis; mereo_, for _inservio et +stipendium_ _facio_, _i.e._ to serve under (as a Soldier). _Comparo_, +that is, to buy, or commit. _Computo_, I change, I exchange with. +_Cambire_ is wholly barbarous in this Sense. _Æstimo_, to tax. _Indico_, +for I estimate, rate. _Liceor, liceris; licitor, licitaris_, to cheapen, +to bid. _Distrahor_, _i.e._ I am carried about to be sold. _Metior_, for +I estimate or rate. _Constat_, for it is bought. _Conducere_, to let to +hire. _Fænero_, I put to Interest. _Fæneror_, I take at Interest (to +Usury.) _Paciscor, pactus sum pango, pepigi_, _i.e._ I make a Bargain." + +_Ch._ Give an Example. + + * * * * * + +_Of selling and buying._ + +_The Forms._ + +_Au._ How much do you lett that Field for by the Year. We will answer. +For twenty _French_ Pounds. Whoo! You lett it too dear. Nay, I have lett +it for more before now. But I would not give so much for it. If you hire +it for less I'll be hang'd. Nay, your Neighbour _Chremes_ offer'd me a +Field, and asks for it--How much? Just as much as you ask for yours. +But it is much better. That's a Lye. I do as they use to do who cheapen +a Thing. Do you keep it yourself at that Price. What, do you cheapen, +ask the Price, when you won't buy any Thing. Whatsoever you shall lett +it me for shall be paid you very honestly. + +_Of Selling and Buying._ + +_Another Example._ + +How much do you sell that Conger Eel for? + +_Syra._ For five Pence. That's too much, you nasty Jade. Nay, 'tis too +little, no Body will sell you for less. Upon my Life it cost me as much +within a Trifle. You Witch, you tell a Lie, that you may sell it for +twice or three Times as much as it cost you. Ay, I'll sell it for a +hundred Times as much if I can, but I can't find such Fools. What if I +should ask the Price of yourself? What do you value yourself at? +According as I like the Person. What do you prize yourself at? What +Price do you set upon yourself? Tell me, what Price do you rate yourself +at? Ten Shillings. Whoo, so much? O strange! Do you value me at less? +Time was when I have had as much for one Night. I believe you may, but I +believe you an't now worth so much as a Fish by a great Deal. Go hang +yourself, you Pimp. I value you as little as you do me. He that shall +give a Farthing for you buys you too dear. But I'll be sold for more, or +I won't be sold at all. If you would be sold at a great Rate you must +get you a Mask, for those Wrinkles in your Forehead won't let you be +sold for much. He that won't give so much for me shan't have me. I would +not give a Straw for you. I cost more. + +_A third Example._ + +I have been at an Auction to-Day. Say you so? I bid Money for a Share in +the Customs. But how much? Ten Thousand Pound. Whoo! what, so much? +There were those that bid a great Deal more; very few that offer'd less. +Well, and who had the Place at last? _Chremes_, your Wife's great +Friend. But guess what it was sold for. Ten. Nay, fifteen. O good God! I +would not give Half so much for him and all his Family together. But he +would give twice as much for your Wife. "Do you take Notice, that in all +these, wheresoever there is a Substantive of the Price, that is put in +the Ablative Case; but that the rest are either put in the Genitive +Case, or are changed into Adverbs. You have never heard a Comparative +without a Substantive, except in these two, _pluris_, and _minoris_. +There are some other Verbs, of which we have spoken, that are not very +much unlike these, _sum, facio, habeo, duco, æstimo, pendo_, which +signify (in a Manner) the same Thing; likewise _fio_, and they are for +the most Part join'd with these Genitives, _multi, parvi, magni, pluris, +plurimi, minoris, minimi, maximi, tanti, quanti, flocci, pili, nihili, +nauci, hujus_, and any other like them." _Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Of valuing. The Form._ + +_Au._ Do you know how much I have always valu'd you? You will always be +made of such Account by Men as you make Account of Virtue. Gold is +valued at a great Rate now a-Days, Learning is valued at a very little, +or just nothing at all. I value Gold less than you think for. I don't +value your Threats of a Rush. I make a very little Account of your +Promises. I don't value you of a Hair. If Wisdom were but valued at so +great a Rate as Money, no Body would want Gold. With us, Gold without +Wisdom is esteem'd to be of more Worth than Wisdom without Gold. I +esteem you at a greater Rate, because you are learned. You will be the +less esteem'd on here because you don't know how to lye. Here are a +great many that will persuade you that Black is White. I set the +greater Value upon you because you love Learning. So much as you have, +so much you shall be esteem'd by all Men; so much as you have, so much +you shall be accounted of every where. It is no Matter what you are +accounted, but what you are. I value my _Christian_ above any Man else +in the World. "There are some other Verbs found with these Genitives and +Ablatives, which in their own Nature don't signify buying, or anything +like it." _Peter_ bought a Kiss of the Maid for a Shilling. Much good +may it do him. I would not kiss at that Rate. How much do you play for? +What did you pay for Supper? We read of some that have spent Six hundred +Sesterces for a Supper. But the _French_ often sup for a Half-penny. +What Price does _Faustus_ teach for? A very small Matter. But for more +than _Delius_. For how much then? For nineteen Guineas. I won't learn to +lye at so dear a Rate. _Phædria_ in _Terence_ lost both his Substance +and himself. But I would not love at that Rate. Some Persons pay a great +Price for sleeping. _Demosthenes_ had more for holding his Tongue than +others had for speaking. I pray you to take it in good Part. "There is +another Sort of Verbs, that require an Accusative Case, with a Genitive +or Ablative, which are, _accuso_, _i.e._ I object a Crime, or _culpo_, +also one that's absent; _Incuso_, _i.e._ I blame without Judgment; +_arguo_, I reprehend, _insimulo_, _i.e._ I throw in a Suspicion of a +Fault. _Postulo_, _i.e._ I require you to answer at Law, _accerso_, I +impeach, _damno_, I condemn, I pronounce him to be in Fault. _Admoneo_, +I admonish." + +_Ch._ For Example Sake? + +_Forms of Accusing._ + +_Au. Scipio_ is accused of courting the Populace. Thou who art the most +impudent, accusest me of Impudence. _Lepidus_ is accused of Bribery. You +are accus'd of a capital Crime. If you shall slily insinuate a Man to +be guilty of Covetousness, you shall hear that which is worse again. Put +him in Mind of his former Fortune. Men are put in Mind of their +Condition, by that very Word. Put _Lepidus_ in Mind of his Promise. +"There are many that admit of a double Accusative Case. I teach thee +Letters. He entreats you to pardon him. I will unteach thee those +Manners." + +"Here I must put you in Mind of that Matter, that in these the Passives +also obtain a second Accusative Case. The others will have a Genitive." +You are taught Letters by me. They accuse me of Theft. I am accused of +Theft. Thou accusest me of Sacrilege. I am accused of Sacrilege. I know +you are not satisfied yet. I know you are not satisfied in Mind. For +when will so great a Glutton of Elegancies be satisfy'd? But I must have +Regard to the Company, who are not all equally diverted with these +Matters. After Supper, as we walk, we will finish what is behind, unless +you shall rather chuse to have it omitted. + +_Ch._ Let it be as you say. Let us return Thanks to divine Bounty and +afterwards we'll take a little Walk. + +_Mi._ You say very well, for nothing can be more pleasant, nor wholsome +than this Evening Air. + +_Ch. Peter_, come hither, and take the Things away in Order, one after +the other, and fill the Glasses with Wine. + +_Pe._ Do you bid me return Thanks? + +_Ch._ Aye, do. + +_Pe._ Had you rather it should be done in _Greek_, or in _Latin_. + +_Ch._ Both Ways. + +_Pe. Gratias agimus tibi, pater coelestis, qui tua ineffabili potentia +condidisti omnia, tua inscrutabili sapientia gubernas universa, tua +inexhausta bonitate cuncta pascis ac vegetas: largire filiis tuis, ut +aliquando tecum bibant in regno tuo nectar illud immortalitatis, quod +promisisti ac praeparasti vere diligentibus te, per Iesum Christum. +Amen._ + +We thank thee, heavenly Father, who by thy unspeakable Power, hast +created all Things, and by thy inexhaustible Wisdom governest all +Things, and by thy inexhaustible Goodness feedest and nourishest all +Things: Grant to thy Children, that they may in due Time drink with thee +in thy Kingdom, that _Nectar_ of Immortality; which thou hast promis'd +and prepar'd for those that truly love thee, through Jesus Christ, +_Amen_. + +_Ch._ Say in _Greek_ too, that the rest mayn't understand what thou +sayest. + +_Pe._ [Greek: Heucharistoumen soi, pater ouranie, ho tê arrêtô sou +dunamei ktisas ta panta, ho tê anexereunêtô sou sophia kubernôn +hapaxapanta, ho tê anexantlêtô sou chrêstotêti hekasta trephomenos te +kai auxanon. Charizou tois yiois sou to meta sou pote piein to tês +athanasias nektar, ho upechou kai êtoimasas tois alêthôs agapôsi se, dia +Iêsou Christou, tou yiou sou, tou kyriou hêmôn, tou meta sou zôntos kai +basileuontos en henotêti tou pneumatos hagiou, eis tous aiônas. Amên.] + +_Ch._ My most welcome Guests, I give you Thanks that you have honour'd +my little Entertainment with your Company. I intreat you to accept it +kindly. + +_Gu._ And we would not only have, but return our Thanks to you. Don't +let us be over ceremonious in thanking, but rather let us rise from +Table, and walk out a little. + +_Au._ Let us take these Virgins along with us, so our Walk will be more +pleasant. + +_Ch._ You propose very well. We'll not want Flowers, if the Place we +walk in don't afford any. Had you rather take a Turn in our Garden, in a +poetical Manner, or walk out abroad by the River-Side. + +_Au._ Indeed, your Gardens are very pleasant, but keep that Pleasure for +Morning Walks. When the Sun is towards setting, Rivers afford wonderful +pleasant Prospects. + +_Ch. Austin_, do you walk foremost as a Poet should do, and I'll walk by +your Side. + +_Au._ O good God, what a jolly Company we have, what a Retinue have I! +_Christian_, I can't utter the Pleasure I take, I seem to be some +Nobleman. + +_Ch._ Now be as good as your Word. Perform the Task you have taken upon +you. + +_Au._ What is it you'd have me speak of chiefly? + +_Ch._ I us'd formerly to admire many Things in _Pollio_'s Orations; but +chiefly this, that he us'd so easily, so frequently and beautifully to +turn a Sentence, which seemed not only a great Piece of Wit, but of +great Use. + +_Au._ You were much in the Right on't, _Christian_, to admire that in +_Pollio_. For he seems, in this Matter, to have had a certain divine +Faculty, which I believe, was peculiar to him, by a certain Dexterity of +Art, and by much Use of Speaking, Reading and Writing, rather than by +any Rules or Instructions. + +_Ch._ But I would fain have some Rule for it, if there be any to be +given. + +_Au._ You say very well; and since I see you are very desirous of it, +I'll endeavour it as much as I can: And I will give those Rules, as well +as I can, which I have taken Notice of in _Pollio_'s Orations. + +_Ch._ Do, I should be very glad to hear 'em. + +_Au._ I am ready to do it. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A short Rule concerning this Copia, it teaches how to + vary a Sentence pleasantly, copiously, easily, + frequently, and elegantly; by short Rules given, and by a + Praxis upon these Rules, in an elegant Turning of one + Phrase._ + + +In the first Place, it is to be set forth in pure and choice _Latin_ +Words; which to do is no mean Piece of Art: For there are a great many, +who do, I don't know after what Manner, affect the _Copia_ and Variation +of Phrase, when they don't know how to express it once right. It is not +enough for them to have babbled once, but they must render the Babble +much more babbling, by first one, and then by another turning of it; as +if they were resolv'd to try the Experiment, how barbarously they were +able to speak: And therefore, they heap together, certain simple +synonymous Words, that are so contrary one to the other, that they may +admire themselves how they do agree together. For what is more absurd, +than that a ragged old Fellow, that has not a Coat to his Back, but what +is so ragged that he may be ashamed to put it on, should every now and +then change his Rags, as though he design'd to shew his Beggary by Way +of Ostentation: And those Affectators of Variety seem equally +ridiculous, who, when they have spoken barbarously once, repeat the same +Thing much more barbarously; and then over and over again much more +unlearnedly. This is not to abound with Sentences, but Solæcisms: +Therefore, in the first Place, as I have said, the Thing is to be +express'd in apt and chosen Words. 2. And then we must use Variety of +Words, if there are any to be found, that will express the same Thing; +and there are a great many. 3. And where proper Words are wanting, then +we must use borrow'd Words, so the Way of borrowing them be modest. 4. +Where there is a Scarcity of Words, you must have Recourse to Passives, +to express what you have said by Actives; which will afford as many Ways +of Variation, as there were in the Actives. 5. And after that, if you +please, you may turn them again by verbal Nouns and Participles. 6. And +last of all, when we have chang'd Adverbs into Nouns, and Nouns +sometimes into one Part of Speech, and sometimes into another; then we +may speak by contraries. 7. We may either change affirmative Sentences +into negative, or the contrary. 8. Or, at least, what we have spoken +indicatively, we may speak interrogatively. Now for Example Sake, let us +take this Sentence. + + _Literæ tuæ magnopere me delectârunt. + + Your Letters have delighted me very much._ + +_Litertæ._ + +Epistle, little Epistles, Writings, Sheets, Letters. + +_Magnopere._ + +After a wonderful Manner, wonderfully, in a greater, or great Manner, in +a wonderful Manner, above Measure, very much, not indifferently (not a +little) mightily, highly, very greatly. + +_Me._ + +My Mind, my Breast, my Eyes, my Heart, _Christian_. + +_Delectârunt._ + +They have affected, recreated, exhilarated with Pleasure, have been a +Pleasure, have delighted, have bath'd me with Pleasure; have been very +sweet, very pleasant, &c. + +Now you have Matter, it is your Business to put it together: Let us try. + +_Ch._ Thy Letters have very greatly delighted me. Thy Epistle has +wonderfully chear'd me. + +_Au._ Turn the Active into a Passive, then it will look with another +Face. As, It can't be said how much I have been chear'd by thy Writings. + +_Also by other Verbs effecting the same Thing._ + +I have received an incredible Pleasure from thy Writings. I have +receiv'd very much Pleasure from your Highness's Letter. Your Writings +have brought me not an indifferent Joy. Your Writings have overwhelmed +me all over with Joy. "But here you can't turn these into Passives, only +in the last, _perfusus gaudio_, as is commonly said, Pleasure was taken +by me, Joy was brought, is not so commonly used, or you must not use so +frequently." + +_By Affido._ + +Thy Letter hath affected me with a singular Pleasure. + +_Change it into a Passive._ + +I am affected with an incredible Pleasure by thy Letter. Thy little +Epistle has brought not a little Joy. + +_By_ Sum _and Nouns Adjectives._ + +Thy Letters have been most pleasant to me many Ways. That Epistle of +thine was, indeed, as acceptable, as any Thing in the World. + +_By Nouns Substantives._ + +Thy Letter was to us an unspeakable Pleasure. Your Letter was an +incredible Pleasure to us. + +_Change it into a Negative._ + +Thy Letter was no small Joy. Nothing in Life could happen more +delightful than thy Letters. "Although I have sometimes already made Use +of this Way, which is not to be pass'd over negligently. For when we +would use _multum, plurimum_, to signify, _singulariter_, we do it by a +contrary Verb." As, _Henry_ loves you mightily: He loves you with no +common Love. Wine pleases me very much: It pleases me not a little. He +is a Man of a singular Wit: A Man of no ordinary Wit. He is a Man of +admirable Learning: He is a Man not of contemptible Learning. _Thomas_ +was born in the highest Place of his Family: Not in the lowest Place. +_Austin_ was a most eloquent Man: He was not ineloquent. _Carneades_ the +Orator was noble: Not an ignoble, not an obscure Man. "And the like, +which are very frequently used." But the Mention of a Thing so plain is +enough: Nor are you ignorant, that we make Use of a two-fold Manner of +Speech, of this Kind: For Modesty Sake, especially, if we speak of our +selves; also for Amplification Sake. For we use rightly and elegantly, +not ungrateful, for very grateful; not vulgarly for singularly. + +_For Modesty Sake._ + +I have by my Letters gain'd some Reputation of Learning. I have always +made it my Business not to have the last Place in the Glory of Learning. +The Examples of Amplification are mention'd before: Now let us return to +our own. Nothing ever fell out to me more gratefully, acceptably, than +thy Letter. Nothing ever was a greater Pleasure than your Letter. I +never took so much Pleasure in any Thing, as in thy most loving Letters. +"After this Manner all the before-mention'd Sentences may be vary'd by +an Interrogation." What in Life could be more pleasant than thy Letters? +What has happened to me more sweet, than thy Letter? What has ever +delighted me like your last Letter? And after this Manner you may vary +almost any Sentence. + +_Ch._ What shall we do now? + +_Au._ We will now turn the whole Sentence a little more at large, that +we may express one Sentence, by a Circumlocution of many Words. + +_Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Au._ "That which was sometimes express'd by the Noun _incredibile_, and +then again, by the Adverb _incredibiliter_, we will change the Sentence +in some Words." I can't express how much I was delighted with your +Letters. It is very hard for me to write, and you to believe how much +Pleasure your Letter was to me. I am wholly unable to express how I +rejoic'd at your Letter. "And so _in infinitum_: Again, after another +Manner. For hitherto we have varied the Sentences by Negations and +Interrogations, and in the last Place by Infinitives. Now we will vary +by Substantives or Conditionals, after this Manner." Let me die if any +Thing ever was more desired and more pleasant than thy Letters. Let me +perish if any Thing ever was more desired, and more pleasant than thy +Letter. As God shall judge me, nothing in my whole Life ever happen'd +more pleasant than thy Letters. "And also a great many more you may +contrive after this Manner." + +_Ch._ What is to be done now? + +_Au._ Now we must proceed to Translations, Similitudes and Examples. + +_There is a Translation in these._ + +I have received your Letters, which were sweet as Honey. Your Writings +seem to be nothing but meer Delight. Your Letters are a meer Pleasure; +and a great many of the like Kinds. "But Care is to be taken not to make +Use of harder Translations; such as this that follows, + + _Jupiter hybernas canâ nive conspuit Alpes._ + +such as this is." The Suppers of thy Writings have refreshed me with +most delicious Banquets. + +_A Comparison by Simile._ + +Thy Writings have been sweeter than either _Ambrosia_ or _Nectar_. Thy +Letters have been sweeter to me than any Honey. Your kind Letter has +excell'd even Liquorish, Locusts, and _Attic_ Honey, and Sugar; nay, +even the _Nectar_ and _Ambrosia_ of the Gods. "And here, whatsoever is +ennobled with Sweetness, may be brought into the Comparison." + +_From Examples._ + +I will never be induc'd to believe, that _Hero_ receiv'd the Letters of +her _Leander_, either with greater Pleasure, or more Kisses, than I +received yours. I can scarce believe that _Scipio_, for the Overthrow of +_Carthage_, or _Paulus Æmylius_, for the taking of _Perseus_, ever +triumphed more magnificently than I did, when the Post-man gave me your +most charming Letter. "There are a thousand Things of this Nature, that +may be found in Poets and Historians. Likewise Similitudes are borrow'd +from Natural Philosophy; the Nature of a great many of which, it is +necessary to keep in Memory. Now if you please, we will try in another +Sentence." + +_I will never forget you while I live._ + +I will always remember you, as long as I live. Forgetfulness of you, +shall never seize me as long as I live. I will leave off to live, before +I will to remember you. + +_By Comparisons._ + +If the Body can get rid of its Shadow, then this Mind of mine may forget +you. The River _Lethe_ itself shall never be able to wash away your +Memory. + +"Besides, by an Impossibility, or after the Manner of Poets by +contraries. + + _Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit. + Ante leves ergo pastentur in athere cervi._ + +which is no hard Matter to invent." But lest I should seem tedious, at +the present let these suffice: At another Time, if you please, we will +talk more copiously of this Matter. + +_Ch._ I thought, _Austin_, you had been quite exhausted by this Time. +But thou hast shewn me a new Treasure beyond what I expected, which if +you shall pursue, I perceive you'll sooner want Time than Words. + +_Au._ If I can perform this with my little Learning, and indifferent +Genius, what do you think _Cicero_ himself could do, who is storied to +have vy'd with _Roscius_ the Player? But the Sun is going to leave us; +and the Dew rises; it is best to imitate the Birds, to go Home, and hide +ourselves in Bed. Therefore, sweet _Christian_, farewell till to Morrow. + +_Ch._ Fare you well likewise, most learned _Austin._ + + + + +_The RELIGIOUS TREAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This religious Treat teaches what ought to be the + Table-Talk of Christians. The Nature of Things is not + dumb, but very loquacious, affording Matter of + Contemplation. The Description of a neat Garden, where + there is a Variety of Discourse concerning Herbs. Of + Marjoram, Celandine, Wolfs-Bane, Hellebore. Of Beasts, + Scorpions, the Chamæleon, the Basilisk; of Sows_, Indian + _Ants, Dolphins, and of the Gardens of_ Alcinous. _Tables + were esteemed sacred by the very Heathens themselves. Of + washing Hands before Meat. A Grace before Meat out of_ + Chrysostom. _Age is to be honoured, and for what Reason. + The Reading of the Scriptures very useful at Meals. That + Lay Persons may Discourse concerning the Scriptures. The + 21st of_ Prov. _and 1st_ Ver. _illustrated. How God hates + Sacrifices, in Comparison of Mercy_, Hos. 6. _No Body is + hurt but by himself. That Persons in Wine speak true. + That it was unlawful for the_ Ægyptian _Priests to drink + Wine. The_ I Cor. 6. _opened. All Things are lawful for + me. The Spirit of Christ was in the Heathens and Poets._ + Scotus _is slighted in Comparison of_ Cicero _and_ + Plutarch. _A Place is cited out of_ Cicero _and_ Cato + Major, _and commended;_ dare omni petenti, give to every + one that asketh, _how it is to be understood. We ought + to give to Christ's Poor, and not to Monasteries. The + Custom of burying in Churches blam'd. That we ought to + give by Choice, how much, to whom, and to what End. We + ought to deny ourselves of something that we may give it + to the Poor_. No Body can serve two Masters, _is + explained. A Grace after Meat out of St._ Chrysostom. + + +EUSEBIUS, TIMOTHY, THEOPHILUS, CHRYSOGLOTTUS, URANIUS, SOPHRONIUS, +EULALIUS, THEODIDACTUS, NEPHALIUS. + +_Eu._ I admire that any Body can delight to live in smoaky Cities, when +every Thing is so fresh and pleasant in the Country. + +_Ti._ All are not pleased with the Sight of Flowers, springing Meadows, +Fountains, or Rivers: Or, if they do take a Pleasure in 'em, there is +something else, in which they take more. For 'tis with Pleasure, as it +is with Wedges, one drives out another. + +_Eu._ You speak perhaps of Usurers, or covetous Traders; which, indeed, +are all one. + +_Ti._ I do speak of them; but not of them only, I assure you; but of a +thousand other Sorts of People, even to the very Priests and Monks, who +for the Sake of Gain, make Choice of the most populous Cities for their +Habitation, not following the Opinion of _Plato_ or _Pythagoras_ in this +Practice; but rather that of a certain blind Beggar, who loved to be +where he was crowded; because, as he said, the more People, the more +Profit. + +_Eu._ Prithee let's leave the blind Beggar and his Gain: We are +Philosophers. + +_Ti._ So was _Socrates_ a Philosopher, and yet he preferr'd a Town Life +before a Country one; because, he being desirous of Knowledge, had there +the Opportunity of improving it. In the Country, 'tis true, there are +Woods, Gardens, Fountains and Brooks, that entertain the Sight, but +they are all mute, and therefore teach a Man nothing. + +_Eu._ I know _Socrates_ puts the Case of a Man's walking alone in the +Fields; although, in my Opinion, there Nature is not dumb, but talkative +enough, and speaks to the Instruction of a Man that has but a good Will, +and a Capacity to learn. What does the beautiful Face of the Spring do, +but proclaim the equal Wisdom and Goodness of the Creator? And how many +excellent Things did _Socrates_ in his Retirement, both teach his +_Phædrus_, and learn from him? + +_Ti._ If a Man could have such pleasant Company, I confess, no life in +the World could be pleasanter than a Country Life. + +_Eu._ Have you a Mind to make Tryal of it? If you have, come take a +Dinner with me to Morrow: I have a pretty neat little Country House, a +little Way out of Town. + +_Ti._ We are too many of us; we shall eat you out of House and Home. + +_Eu._ Never fear that, you're to expect only a Garden Treat, of such +Chear as I need not go to Market for. The Wine is of my own Growth; the +Pompions, the Melons, the Figs, the Pears, the Apples and Nuts, are +offered to you by the Trees themselves; you need but gape, and they'll +fall into your Mouth, as it is in the _fortunate Islands_, if we may +give Credit to _Lucian_. Or, it may be, we may get a Pullet out of the +Hen-roost, or so. + +_Ti._ Upon these Terms we'll be your Guests. + +_Eu._ And let every Man bring his Friend along with him, and then, as +you now are four, we shall be the just Number of the Muses. + +_Ti._ A Match. + +_Eu._ And take Notice, that I shall only find Meat, you are to bring +your own Sauce. + +_Ti._ What Sauce do you mean, Pepper, or Sugar? + +_Eu._ No, no, something that's cheaper, but more savoury. + +_Ti._ What's that? + +_Eu._ A good Stomach. A light Supper to Night, and a little Walk to +Morrow Morning, and that you may thank my Country House for. But at what +Hour do you please to dine at? + +_Ti._ At ten a Clock. Before it grows too hot. + +_Eu._ I'll give Order accordingly. + +_Boy._ Sir, the Gentlemen are come. + +_Eu._ You are welcome, Gentlemen, that you are come according to your +Words; but you're twice as welcome for coming so early, and bringing the +best of Company along with you. There are some Persons who are guilty of +an unmannerly Civility, in making their Host wait for them. + +_Ti._ We came the earlier, that we might have Time enough to view all +the Curiosities of your Palace; for we have heard that it is so +admirably contrived every where, as that it speaks who's the Master of +it. + +_Eu._ And you will see a Palace worthy of such a Prince. This little +Nest is to me more than a Court, and if he may be said to reign that +lives at Liberty according to his Mind, I reign here. But I think it +will be best, while the Wench in the Kitchen provides us a Salad, and it +is the cool of the Morning, to take a Walk to see the Gardens. + +_Ti._ Have you any other beside this? For truly this is a wonderful neat +one, and with a pleasing Aspect salutes a Man at his entring in, and +bids him welcome. + +_Eu._ Let every Man gather a Nosegay, that may put by any worse Scent he +may meet with within Doors. Every one likes not the same Scent, +therefore let every one take what he likes. Don't be sparing, for this +Place lies in a Manner common; I never shut it up but a-Nights. + +_Ti._ St. Peter keeps the Gates, I perceive. + +_Eu._ I like this Porter better than the _Mercuries_, Centaurs, and +other fictitious Monsters, that some paint upon their Doors. + +_Ti._ And 'tis more suitable to a Christian too. + +_Eu._ Nor is my Porter dumb, for he speaks to you in Three Languages. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ Read it yourself. + +_Ti._ It is too far off for my Eyes. + +_Eu._ Here's a reading Glass, that will make you another _Lynceus._ + +_Ti._ I see the Latin. _Si vis ad vitam ingredi, serva mandata_, Mat. +19, 17. If thou wilt, enter into Life, keep the Commandments. + +_Eu._ Now read the _Greek_. + +_Ti._ I see the _Greek_, but I don't well know what to make on't; I'll +refer that to _Theophilus_, who's never without _Greek_ in his Mouth. + +_Th._ [Greek: Metanoêsate kai epistrepsate. Praxeôn tô tritô.] _Repent +and be converted._ Acts 3. 19. + +_Ch._ I'll take the _Hebrew_ upon myself, [Hebrew: vetsadik be'emunato +yihyeh] _And the Just shall live by Faithfulness._ + +_Eu._ Does he seem to be an unmannerly Porter, who at first Dash, bids +us turn from our Iniquities, and apply our selves to Godliness, and then +tells us, that Salvation comes not from the Works of the Law; but from +the Faith of the Gospel; and last of all, that the Way to eternal Life, +is by the Observance of evangelical Precepts. + +_Ti._ And see the Chapel there on the right Hand that he directs us to, +it is a very fine one. Upon the Altar there's _Jesus Christ_ looking up +to Heaven, and pointing with his right Hand towards God the Father, and +the holy Spirit; and with his Left, he seems to court and invite all +Comers. + +_Eu._ Nor is he mute: You see the _Latin; Ego sum via, veritas, et vita; +I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life._ [Greek: Egô eimi to alpha kai to +ômega.] In _Hebrew_, [Hebrew: Lechu banim shim'uh li, yr'at adonai +alamdeichem] _Come, ye Children, hearken unto me; I will teach you the +fear of the Lord._ + +_Ti._ Truly the Lord _Jesus_ salutes us with a good Omen. + +_Eu._ But that we may not seem uncivil, it is meet that we pay back an +Acknowledgment, and pray that since we can do nothing of ourselves, he +would vouchsafe of his infinite Goodness to keep us from ever straying +out of the Path of Life; but that we casting away _Jewish_ Ceremonies, +and the Delusions of the World, he would guide us by the Truth of the +Gospel to everlasting Life, drawing us of himself to himself. + +_Ti._ It is most reasonable that we should pray, and the Place invites +us to it. + +_Eu._ The Pleasantness of the Garden draws a great many Persons to it; +and 'tis a rare Thing that any Passes by Jesus without an Ejaculation. I +have made him Keeper, not only of my Garden, but of all my Possessions, +and of both Body and Mind, instead of filthy _Priapus_. Here is you see +a little Fountain pleasantly bubbling with wholsome Waters, this in some +Measure represents that only Fountain of Life, that by its divine +Streams, refreshes all that are weary and heavy laden; which the Soul, +tired with the Evils of this World, pants after, just as the Hart in the +Psalmist does after the Water Brooks, having tasted of the Flesh of +Serpents. From this Fountain, whoever thirsts, may drink _gratis_. Some +make it a Matter of Religion to sprinkle themselves with it; and others +for the Sake of Religion, and not of Thirst, drink of it. You are loath, +I perceive, to leave this Place: But it is Time to go to see this little +square Garden that is wall'd in, 'tis a neater one than the other. What +is to be seen within Doors, you shall see after Dinner, when the Heat of +the Sun keeps us at Home for some Hours like Snails. + +_Ti._ Bless me! What a delightful Prospect is here. + +_Eu._ All this Place was designed for a Pleasure Garden, but for honest +Pleasure; for the Entertainment of the Sight, the recreating the +Nostrils, and refreshing the Mind; nothing grows here but sweet Herbs, +nor every Sort of them, but only choice ones, and every Kind has its Bed +by itself. + +_Ti._ I am now convinced that Plants are not mute with you. + +_Eu._ You are in the Right; others have magnificent Houses, but mine is +made for Conversation, so that I can never be alone in it, and so you'll +say, when you have seen it all. As the several Plants are as it were +form'd into several Troops, so every Troop has its Standard to itself, +with a peculiar Motto, as this Marjoram's is, _Abstine, sus, non tibi +spiro: Keep off, Sow, I don't breathe my Perfume for thee_; for though +it be of a very fragrant Scent, yet Sows have a natural Aversion to it: +And so every Sort has its Title, denoting the peculiar Virtue of the +Plant. + +_Ti._ I have seen nothing yet more delightful than this little Fountain, +which being in the midst of them, does as it were smile upon all the +Plants, and promises them Refreshment against the scorching Heat of the +Sun. But this little Channel which shews the Water to the Eye so +advantageously, and divides the Garden every where at such equal +Distances, that it shews all the Flowers over on both Sides again, as in +a Looking-glass, is it made of Marble? + +_Eu._ Marble, quoth thee, how should Marble come hither? It is a +counterfeit Marble, made of a sort of Loam, and a whitish Colour given +it in the Glasing. + +_Ti._ But where does this delicious Rivulet discharge itself at last? + +_Eu._ Just as it is with human Obligations, when we have served our own +Turns: After this has pleasured our Eyes, it washes our Kitchen, and +passes through the Sink into the common Shore. + +_Ti._ That's very hard-hearted, as I am a Christian. + +_Eu._ It had been hard-hearted, if the divine Bounty of Providence had +not appointed it for this Use. We are then hard-hearted, when we pollute +the Fountain of divine Truth, that is much more pleasant than this, and +was given us for the refreshing and purging our Minds from our Lusts and +vicious Appetites, abusing the unspeakable Bounty of God: For we make no +bad Use of the Water, if we put it to the several Uses for which he +appointed it, who supplies every Thing abundantly for human Use. + +_Ti._ You say right: But how comes it about, that all your artificial +Hedges are green too? + +_Eu._ Because I would have every Thing green here. Some are for a +Mixture of Red, because that sets off Green: But I like this best, as +every Man has his Fancy, though it be but in a Garden. + +_Ti._ The Garden is very fine of itself; but methinks these three Walks +take off very much from the Lightsomeness and Pleasantness of it. + +_Eu._ Here I either study or walk alone, or talk with a Friend, or eat, +as the Humour takes me. + +_Ti._ Those speckled, wonderful, pretty party-coloured Pillars, that at +equal Distances support that Edifice, are they Marble? + +_Eu._ Of the same Marble that this Channel is made of. + +_Ti._ In Truth, a pretty Cheat, I should have sworn they had been +Marble. + +_Eu._ For this Reason then, take Care that you neither believe, nor +swear any Thing rashly: You see how a Man may be mistaken. What I want +in Wealth, I supply by Invention. + +_Ti._ Could you not be content with so neat, and well furnished a Garden +in Substance, without other Gardens in Picture besides? + +_Eu._ In the first Place, one Garden will not hold all Sorts of Plants; +and in the second, 'tis a double Pleasure, to see a painted Flower vie +with the Life; and in one we contemplate the Artifice of Nature, in the +other the Skill of the Painter; and in both, the Goodness of God, who +gives all Things for our Use, in every Thing equally admirable and +amiable: And in the last Place, a Garden is not always green; nor the +Flowers always fresh; but this Garden is fresh and green all the Winter. + +_Ti._ But it is not fragrant. + +_Eu._ But then on the other Hand it wants no dressing. + +_Ti._ It only delights the Eye. + +_Eu._ But then it does that always. + +_Ti._ Pictures themselves grow old. + +_Eu._ They do so; but yet they out-live us; and besides, whereas we are +the worse for Age, they are the better for it. + +_Ti._ That's too true, if it could be otherwise. + +_Eu._ In this Walk that looks toward the West, I take the Benefit of the +Morning Sun; in that which looks toward the East, I take the Cool of the +Evening; in that which looks toward the South, but lies open to the +North, I take Sanctuary against the Heats of the Meridian Sun; but we'll +walk 'em over, if you please, and take a nearer View of them: See how +green 'tis under Foot, and you have the Beauty of painted Flowers in the +very Chequers of the Pavement. This Wood, that you see painted upon this +Wall, affords me a great Variety of Prospect: For in the first Place, as +many Trees as you see, so many Sorts of Trees you see; and all express'd +to the Life. As many Birds as you see, so many Kinds you see; especially +if there be any scarce Ones, and remarkable upon any Account. For as for +Geese, Hens, and Ducks, it is not worth While to draw them. Underneath +are four-footed Creatures, or such Birds as live upon the Ground, after +the Manner of Quadrupedes. + +_Ti._ The Variety indeed is wonderful, and every Thing is in Action, +either doing or saying something. There's an Owl sits peeping through +the Leaves, what says she? + +_Eu._ She speaks _Greek_; she says, [Greek: Sôphronei, ou pasin +hiptêmi], she commands us to act advisedly; _I do not fly to all_; +because an inconsiderate Rashness does not fall out happily to all +Persons. There is an Eagle quarrying upon a Hare, and a Beetle +interceding to no Purpose; there is a Wren stands by the Beetle, and she +is a mortal Enemy to the Eagle. + +_Ti._ What has this Swallow got in her Mouth? + +_Eu._ The Herb Celandine; don't you know the Plant? with it, she +restores Sight to her blind young Ones. + +_Ti._ What odd Sort of Lizard is this? + +_Eu._ It is not a Lizard, but a Chamæleon. + +_Ti._ Is this the Chamæleon, there is so much Talk of? I thought it had +been a Beast twice as big as a Lion, and the Name is twice as long too. + +_En._ This Chamæleon is always gaping, and always hungry. This is a +wild Fig-Tree, and that is his Aversion. He is otherwise harmless; and +yet the little gaping Creature has Poison in him too, that you mayn't +contemn him. + +_Ti._ But I don't see him change his Colour. + +_Eu._ True; because he does not change his Place; when he changes his +Place, you will see him change his Colour too. + +_Ti._ What's the Meaning of that Piper? + +_Eu._ Don't you see a Camel there dancing hard by? + +_Ti._ I see a very pleasant Fancy; the Ape pipes, and the Camel dances. + +_Eu._ But it would require at least three Days to run through the +Particulars one by one; it will be enough at present to take a cursory +View of them. You have in the first Spot, all Sorts of famous Plants +painted to the Life: And to increase the Wonder, here are the strongest +Poisons in the World, which you may not only look upon, but handle too +without Danger. + +_Ti._ Look ye, here is a Scorpion, an Animal very seldom seen in this +Country; but very frequent in _Italy_, and very mischievous too: But the +Colour in the Picture seems not to be natural. + +_Eu._ Why so? + +_Ti._ It seems too pale methinks; for those in _Italy_ are blacker. + +_Eu._ Don't you know the Herb it has fallen upon? + +_Ti._ Not very well. + +_Eu._ That's no Wonder, for it does not grow in these Parts: It is +Wolf's-bane, so deadly a Poison, that upon the very touch of it, a +Scorpion is stupified, grows pale, and yields himself overcome; but when +he is hurt with one Poison, he seeks his Remedy with another. Do you see +the two Sorts of Hellebore hard by; if the Scorpion can but get himself +clear of the Wolf's-bane, and get to the white Hellebore, he recovers +his former Vigour, by the very Touch of a different Poison. + +_Ti._ Then the Scorpion is undone, for he is never like to get off from +the Wolfs'-bane. But do Scorpions speak here? + +_Eu._ Yes, they do, and speak _Greek_ too. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ [Greek: Eure theos ton alitron], _God hath found out the Guilty._ +Here besides the Grass, you see all Sorts of Serpents. Here is the +Basilisk, that is not only formidable for his Poison; but the very Flash +of his Eyes is also mortal. + +_Ti._ And he says something too. + +_Eu._ Yes, he says, _Oderint, dum metuant; Let them hate me, so they +fear me._ + +_Ti._ Spoken like a King entirely. + +_Eu._ Like a Tyrant rather, not at all like a King. Here a Lizard fights +with a Viper, and here lies the _Dipsas_ Serpent upon the Catch, hid +under the Shell of an _Estridge_ Egg. Here you see the whole Policy of +the Ant, which we are call'd upon to imitate by _Solomon_ and _Horace_. +Here are _Indian_ Ants that carry Gold, and hoard it up. + +_Ti._ O good God! how is it possible for a Man to be weary of this +Entertainment. + +_Eu._ And yet at some other Time you shall see I'll give you your Belly +full of it. Now look before you at a Distance, there is a third Wall, +where you have Lakes, Rivers, and Seas, and all Sorts of rare Fishes. +This is the River _Nile_, in which you see the _Dolphin_, that natural +Friend to Mankind, fighting with a _Crocodile_, Man's deadly Enemy. Upon +the Banks and Shores you see several amphibious Creatures, as Crabs, +Seals, Beavers. Here is a Polypus, a Catcher catch'd by an Oyster. + +_Ti._ What does he say? [Greek: airôn airoumai]; _The Taker taken._ The +Painter has made the Water wonderfully transparent. + +_Eu._ If he had not done so, we should have wanted other Eyes. Just by +there's another Polypus playing upon the Face of the Sea like a little +Cock-Boat; and there you see a Torpedo lying along upon the Sands, both +of a Colour, you may touch them here with your Hand without any Danger. +But we must go to something else, for these Things feed the Eye, but not +the Belly. + +_Ti._ Have you any more to be seen then? + +_Eu._ You shall see what the Back-side affords us by and by. Here's an +indifferent large Garden parted: The one a Kitchen Garden, that is my +Wife's and the Family's; the other is a Physick Garden, containing the +choicest physical Herbs. At the left Hand there is an open Meadow, that +is only a green Plot enclos'd with a quick-set Hedge. There sometimes I +take the Air, and divert myself with good Company. Upon the right Hand +there's an Orchard, where, when you have Leisure, you shall see a great +Variety of foreign Trees, that I have brought by Degrees to endure this +Climate. + +_Ti._ O wonderful! the King himself has not such a Seat. + +_Eu._ At the End of the upper Walk there's an Aviary, which I'll shew +you after Dinner, and there you'll see various Forms, and hear various +Tongues, and their Humours are as various. Among some of them there is +an Agreeableness and mutual Love, and among others an irreconcilable +Aversion: And then they are so tame and familiar, that when I'm at +Supper, they'll come flying in at the Window to me, even to the Table, +and take the Meat out of my Hands. If at any Time I am upon the +Draw-Bridge you see there, talking, perhaps with a Friend, they'll some +of them sit hearkening, others of them will perch upon my Shoulders or +Arms, without any Sort of Fear, for they find that no Body hurts them. +At the further End of the Orchard I have my Bees, which is a Sight worth +seeing. But I must not show you any more now, that I may have something +to entertain you with by and by. I'll shew you the rest after Dinner. + +_Boy._ Sir, my Mistress and Maid say that the Dinner will be spoil'd. + +_Eu._ Bid her have a little Patience, and we'll come presently. My +friends, let us wash, that we may come to the Table with clean Hands as +well as Hearts. The very _Pagans_ us'd a Kind of Reverence in this Case; +how much more then should _Christians_ do it; if it were but in +Imitation of that sacred Solemnity of our Saviour with his Disciples at +his last Supper: And thence comes the Custom of washing of Hands, that +if any Thing of Hatred, Ill-Will, or any Pollution should remain in the +Mind of any one, he might purge it out, before he sits down at the +Table. For it is my Opinion, that the Food is the wholesomer for the +Body, if taken with a purified Mind. + +_Ti._ We believe that it is a certain Truth. + +_Eu. Christ_ himself gave us this Example, that we should sit down to +the Table with a Hymn; and I take it from this, that we frequently read +in the Evangelists, that he bless'd or gave Thanks to his Father before +he broke Bread, and that he concluded with giving of Thanks: And if you +please, I'll say you a Grace that St. _Chrysostom_ commends to the Skies +in one of his Homilies, which he himself interpreted. + +_Ti._ We desire you would. + +_Eu._ Blessed be thou, O God, who has fed me from my Youth up, and +providest Food for all Flesh: Fill thou our Hearts with Joy and +Gladness, that partaking plentifully of thy Bounty, we may abound to +every good Work, through _Christ Jesus_ our Lord, with whom, to thee and +the Holy Ghost, be Glory, Honour, and Power, World without End. _Amen._ + +_Eu._ Now sit down, and let every Man take his Friend next him: The +first Place is yours, _Timothy_, in Right of your Grey Hairs. + +_Ti._ The only Thing in the World that gives a Title to it. + +_Eu._ We can only judge of what we see, and must leave the rest to God. +_Sophronius_, keep you close to your Principal. _Theophilus_ and +_Eulalius_, do you take the right Side of the Table; _Chrysoglottus_ and +_Theodidactus_ they shall have the left. _Uranius_ and _Nephalius_ must +make a Shift with what is left. I'll keep this Corner. + +_Ti._ This must not be, the Master of the House ought to take the first +Place. + +_Eu._ The House is as much yours as mine, Gentlemen; however, if I may +rule within my own Jurisdiction, I'll sit where I please, and I have +made my Choice already. Now may Christ, the Enlivener of all, and +without whom nothing can be pleasant, vouchsafe to be with us, and +exhilarate our Minds by his Presence. + +_Ti._ I hope he will be pleased so to do; but where shall he sit, for +the Places are all taken up? + +_Eu._ I would have him in every Morsel and Drop that we eat and drink; +but especially, in our Minds. And the better to fit us for the Reception +of so divine a Guest, if you will, you shall have some Portion of +Scripture read in the Interim; but so that you shall not let that hinder +you from eating your Dinner heartily. + +_Ti._ We will eat heartily, and attend diligently. + +_Eu._ This Entertainment pleases me so much the better, because it +diverts vain and frivolous Discourse, and affords Matter of profitable +Conversation: I am not of their Mind, who think no Entertainment +diverting, that does not abound with foolish wanton Stories, and bawdy +Songs. There is pure Joy springs from a clear and pure Conscience; and +those are the happy Conversations, where such Things are mentioned, that +we can reflect upon afterwards with Satisfaction and Delight; and not +such as we shall afterwards be ashamed of, and have Occasion to repent +of. + +_Ti._ It were well if we were all as careful to consider those Things as +we are sure they are true. + +_Eu._ And besides, these Things have not only a certain and valuable +Profit in them, but one Month's Use of them, would make them become +pleasant too. + +_Ti._ And therefore it is the best Course we can take to accustom +ourselves to that which is best. + +_Eu._ Read us something, Boy, and speak out distinctly. + +_Boy._ Prov. xxi. _The King's Heart is in the Hand of the Lord; as the +Rivers of Waters, he turneth it whither soever he will. Every Man is +right in his own Eyes, but the Lord pondereth the Hearts. To do Justice +and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than Sacrifice_, ver. 1, 2, +3. + +_Eu._ Hold there, that's enough; for it is better to take down a little +with an Appetite, than to devour more than a Man can digest. + +_Ti._ 'Tis better, I must confess, in more Cases than this: _Pliny_ +would have one never have _Tully's_ Offices out of ones Hand; and in my +Opinion, it were well if all Persons, but especially Statesmen, had him +every Word by Heart: And as for this little Book of Proverbs, I have +always look'd upon it the best Manual we can carry about with us. + +_Eu._ I knew our Dinner would be unsavoury, and therefore I procured +this Sauce. + +_Ti._ Here is nothing but what is very good; but if you had given us +this Lecture to a Dish of Beets only, without either Pepper, Wine or +Vinegar, it would have been a delicious Treat. + +_Eu._ I could commend it with a better Grace, if I did but perfectly +understand what I have heard. And I would we had some able Divine among +us, that did not only understand it, but would thoroughly expound it. +But I don't know how far it may be lawful for us Laymen to descant upon +these Matters. + +_Ti._ Indeed, I see no Hurt in't, even for a _Tarpawlin_ to do it, +abating the Rashness of passing Sentence in the Case. And who knows but +that _Christ_ himself (who has promis'd to be present, where two or +three are gathered together in his Name) may vouchsafe his Assistance to +us, that are a much larger Congregation. + +_Eu._ What if we should take these three Verses, and divide 'em among us +nine Guests? + +_Guests._ We like it well, provided the Master of the Feast lead the +Way. + +_Eu._ I would not refuse it; but that I am afraid I shall entertain you +worse in my Exposition, than I do in my Dinner: But however, Ceremony +apart, that I may not seem to want much Persuasion, omitting other +Meanings that Interpreters put upon the Place: This seems to me to be +the moral Sense; "That private Men may be wrought upon by Admonition, +Reproofs, Laws and Menaces; but Kings who are above Fear, the more they +are opposed, the fiercer their Displeasure; and therefore Kings, as +often as they are resolutely bent upon any, should be left to +themselves: Not in respect of any Confidence of the Goodness of their +Inclinations; but because God many Times makes Use of their Follies and +Wickedness, as the Instruments for the Punishment of the Wicked." As he +forbad that _Nebuchodonosor_ should be resisted, because he had +determin'd to chastise his People by him, as an Instrument. And +peradventure, that which _Job_ says, looks this Way: _Who maketh the +Hypocrite reign for the Sins of his People._ And perhaps, that which +_David_ says, bewailing his Sin, has the same Tendency: _Against thee +only have I sinned, and done this Evil in thy Sight:_ Not as if the +Iniquity of Kings were not fatal to the People; but because there is +none that has Authority to condemn them, but God, from whose Judgment +there is indeed no Appeal, be the Person never so great. + +_Ti._ I like the Interpretation well enough thus far; but what is meant +by _the Rivers of Waters?_ + +_Eu._ There is a Similitude made Use of that explains it. The Wrath of a +King is impetuous and unruly, and not to be led this Way or that Way, +but presses forward with a restless Fury: As the Sea spreads itself over +the Land, and flows sometimes this Way, and sometimes that Way, not +sparing Pastures nor Palaces, and sometimes buries in its own Bowels all +that stands in its Way; and if you should attempt to stop its Course, or +to turn it another Way, you may e'en as well let it alone: Whereas, let +it but alone, and it will sink of itself, as it happens in many great +Rivers, as is storied of _Achelous._ There is less Injury done by +quietly yielding, than by violently resisting. + +_Ti._ Is there no Remedy then against the Unruliness of wicked Kings? + +_Eu._ The first will be, not to receive a Lion into the City: The +second, is to tie him up by parliamentary and municipal Laws, that he +can't easily break out into Tyranny: But the best of all would be, to +train him up from his Childhood, in the Principles of Piety and Virtue, +and to form his Will, before he understands his Power. Good Counsels and +Persuasions go a great Way, provided they be seasonable and gentle. But +the last Resort must be to beg of God, to incline the King's Heart to +those Things that are becoming a Christian King. + +_Ti._ Do you excuse yourself, because you are a Layman? If I were a +Batchelor in Divinity, I should value myself upon this Interpretation. + +_Eu._ I can't tell whether it is right or wrong, it is enough for me if +it were not impious or heretical. However, I have done what you required +of me; and now, according to the Rules of Conversation, 'tis my Turn to +hear your Opinion. + +_Ti._ The Compliment you pass'd upon my grey Hairs, gives me some kind +of Title to speak next to the Text, which will bear yet a more +mysterious Meaning. + +_Eu._ I believe it may, and I should be glad to hear it. + +_Ti._ "By the Word King, may be meant, a Man so perfected, as to have +wholly subdued his Lusts, and to be led by the Impulse of the Divine +Spirit only. Now perhaps it may not be proper to tie up such a Person to +the Conditions of human Laws; but to leave him to his Master, by whom he +is govern'd: Nor is he to be judg'd according to the Measures by which +the Frailty of imperfect Men advances towards true Holiness; but if he +steers another Course, we ought to say with St. _Paul, God hath accepted +him, and to his own Master he stands or falls. He that is spiritual, +judgeth of all Things, but he himself is judged of no Man_." To such, +therefore, let no Man prescribe; for the Lord, who hath appointed Bounds +to the Seas and Rivers, hath the Heart of the King in his Hand, and +inclines it which Way soever it pleases him: What need is there to +prescribe to him, that does of his own accord better Things than human +Laws oblige him to? Or, how great a Rashness were it, to bind that +Person by human Constitutions, who, it is manifest, by evident Tokens, +is directed by the Inspirations of the Holy Spirit. + +_Eu._ O _Timothy_, thou hast not only got grey Hairs on this Head, but +you have likewise a Mind venerable for experimental Knowledge. And I +would to God, that we had more such Kings as this King of yours among +Christians, who, indeed, all of them ought to be such. But we have dwelt +long enough upon our Eggs and Herbs; let them be taken away, and +something else set in their Room. + +_Ti._ We have done so well already on this Ovation, that there is no +Need of any more, either of Supplication or Triumph. + +_Eu._ But since, by God's Assistance, we have succeeded so well in the +first Verse, I wish your _Umbra_ would explain the other, which seems to +me a little more obscure. + +_Soph._ If you'll put a good Construction upon what I shall say, I will +give you my Thoughts upon it. How else can a Shadow pretend to give +Light to any Thing? + +_Eu._ I undertake that for all the Company; such Shadows as you give as +much Light as our Eyes will well bear. + +_Soph._ The same Thing seems to be meant here, that _Paul_ says: _That +there are several Ways of Life, that lead to Holiness_. Some affect the +Ministry, some Celibacy, others a married State; some a retired Life, +others publick Administrations of the Government, according to the +various Dispositions of their Bodies and Minds: Again, to one Man all +Meats are indifferent, another puts a Difference betwixt this Meat and +that; another he makes a Difference of Days, another thinks every Day +alike. In these Things St. _Paul_ would have every one enjoy his own +Freedom of Mind, without reproaching another; nor should we censure any +Man in those Cases, but leave him to be judg'd by him that weigheth the +Heart. It oftentimes happens, that he that eats may be more acceptable +to God, than he that forbears; and he that breaks a Holy-day, than he +that seems to observe it; and he that marries, is more acceptable to +God, than a great many that live single. I who am but a Shadow, have +spoken my Mind. + +_Eu._ I wish I could have Conversation with such Shadows often. I think +you have hit the Nail on the Head: But here is one that has lived a +Batchelor, and not of the Number of Saints, who have made themselves +Eunuchs for the Sake of the Kingdom of God but was made so by force, to +gratify our Bellies, _till God shall destroy both them and Meats_. It is +a Capon of my own feeding. I am a great Lover of boil'd Meats. This is a +very good Soop, and these are choice Lettuces that are in it. Pray every +one help himself to what he likes best. But that you may not be +deceiv'd, I tell you, that we have a Course of Roast a coming, and after +that some small Desert, and so conclude. + +_Ti._ But we exclude your Wife from Table. + +_Eu._ When you bring your own Wives, mine shall keep them Company. She +would, if she were here, be nothing but a Mute in our Company. She talks +with more Freedom among the Women, and we are more at Liberty to +philosophise. And besides that, there would be Danger, lest we should be +serv'd as _Socrates_ was, when he had several Philosophers at Table with +him, who took more Pleasure in talking than they did in eating, and held +a long Dispute, had all their Meat thrown on the Floor by _Xantippe_, +who in a Rage overturn'd the Table. + +_Ti._ I believe you have nothing of that to be afraid of: She's one of +the best-humour'd Women in the World. + +_Eu._ She is such a one indeed, that I should be loath to change her if +I might; and I look upon myself to be very happy upon that Account. Nor +do I like their Opinion, who think a Man happy, because he never had a +Wife; I approve rather what the _Hebrew_ Sage said, _He that has a good +Wife has a good Lot_. + +_Ti._ It is commonly our own Fault, if our Wives be bad, either for +loving such as are bad, or making them so; or else for not teaching them +better. + +_Eu._ You say very right, but all this While I want to hear the third +Verse expounded: And methinks the divine _Theophilus_ looks as if he had +a Mind to do it. + +_Theo._ Truly my Mind was upon my Belly; but however, I'll speak my +Mind, since I may do it without Offence. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Favour to us if you should happen to be in any +Error, because by that Means you will give us Occasion of finding the +Truth. + +_Th._ The Sentence seems to be of the same Importance with that the Lord +expresses by the Prophet _Hosea_, Chap. vi. _I desire Mercy and not +Sacrifice, and the Knowledge of God more than Burnt-Offerings_. This is +fully explain'd, and to the Life, by the Lord _Jesus_, in St. _Matthew_, +Chap. ix. who being at Table in the House of _Levi_ the Publican, with +several others of the same Stamp and Profession, the _Pharisees_, who +were puff'd up with their external Observance of the Law, without any +Regard to the Precepts of it, whereupon the whole Law and Prophets +depend, (with a Design to alienate the Affections of his Disciples from +him) ask'd them, why their Master sat at the Table of Publicans and +Sinners. From whose Conversation those _Jews_, that would be accounted +the more holy, abstain'd; to that Degree, that if any of the stricter +Sort had met any of them by Chance, as soon as they came Home they would +wash themselves. And when the Disciples, being yet but raw, could give +no Answer; the Lord answer'd both for himself and them: _They_ (says he) +_who are whole need not a Physician, but they that are sick; but go you +and learn what that meaneth, I will have Mercy and not Sacrifice; for I +came not to call the Righteous but Sinners_. + +_Eu._ Indeed you have very handsomely explain'd the Matter, by the +comparing of Texts, which is the best Way of expounding Scripture. But I +would fain know what it is he calls Sacrifice, and what Mercy. For how +can we reconcile it, that God should be against Sacrifices, who had +commanded so many to be offered? + +_Th._ How far God is against Sacrifices, he himself teaches us in the +first Chapter of the Prophecy of _Isaiah_. There were certain legal +Obligations among the _Jews_, which were rather Significations of +Holiness, than of the Essence of it; of this Sort are Holy-Days, +Sabbatisms, Fasts, Sacrifices; and there were certain other Obligations +of perpetual Force, being good in their own Nature, and not meerly by +being commanded. Now God was displeased with the _Jews_, not because +they did observe the Rites and Ceremonies, but because being vainly +puffed up with these, they neglected those Things which God does in a +more especial Manner require of us; and wallowing in Avarice, Pride, +Rapines, Hatred, Envy, and other Iniquities, they thought they merited +Heaven, because that upon Holy-Days, they visited the Temple, offered +Sacrifices, abstained from forbidden Meats, and frequently fasted; +embracing the Shadow of Religion, and neglecting the Substance. But in +that, he says, _I will have Mercy, and not Sacrifice_; I take it to be +said according to the Idiom of the _Hebrew_ Tongue; that is to say, +_Mercy rather than Sacrifices, as Solomon_ interprets it in this Text, +_to do Mercy and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than +Sacrifices_. And again, the Scripture expresses all the charitable +Offices to our Neighbour, under the Terms of Mercy, and eleemosynary +Tenderness, which takes its Name from Pity. By Sacrifices, I suppose is +intended, whatsoever respects corporal Ceremonies, and has any Affinity +with Judaism, such as are the choice of Meats, appointed Garments, +Fasting, Sacrifices, the saying over of Prayers, as a Boy says his +Lesson: resting upon Holy-Days. These Things, as they are not to be +neglected in their due Season, so they become displeasing to God, if a +Man relying too much upon these Observances, shall neglect to do Acts of +Mercy, as often as his Brother's Necessity requires it. And it has some +Appearance of Holiness in it, to avoid the Conversation of wicked Men: +But this ought to give Place as oft as there is an Opportunity offer'd +of shewing Charity to our Neighbour. It is a Point of Obedience to rest +upon Holy Days: But it would be very impious to make such a Conscience +of a Day as to suffer a Brother to perish upon it. Therefore to keep the +Lord's Day is a Kind of _Sacrifice_: But to be reconcil'd to my Brother +is a Point of _Mercy_. And then, as for _Judgment_, though that may seem +to respect Persons in Power; who oftentimes oppress the weak therewith, +yet it seems reasonable enough in my Opinion that the poor Man should +remind him of that in _Hosea, And the Knowledge of God more than burnt +Offerings_. No Man can be said to keep the Law of God, but he that keeps +it according to the Mind of God. The _Jews_ could lift up an Ass upon +the Sabbath that was fallen into a Pit, and yet calumniated our Saviour +for preserving a Man upon that Day. This was a preposterous Judgment, +and not according to the Knowledge of God; for they did not consider +that these Things were made for Man, and not Man for them. But I should +have esteem'd it Presumption in me to have said these Things, if you had +not commanded it; and I had rather learn of others Things more _à +propos_. + +_Eu._ This is so far from being a Presumption, that it looks rather like +an Inspiration. But while we are thus plentifully feeding our Souls, we +must not neglect their Companions. + +_Ti._ Who are those? + +_Eu._ Our Bodies; are not they the Soul's Companions? I had rather call +them so, than Instruments, Habitations or Sepulchres. + +_Ti._ This is certainly to be plentifully refresh'd when the whole Man +is refresh'd. + +_Eu._ I see you are very backward to help yourselves; therefore, if you +please, I'll order the Roast-Meat to be brought us, lest instead of a +good Entertainment I should treat you with a long one. Now you see your +Ordinary. Here is a Shoulder of Mutton, but it is a very fine one, a +Capon and two Brace of Partridges. These indeed I had from the Market, +this little Farm supply'd me with the rest. + +_Ti._ It is a noble Dinner, fit for a Prince. + +_Eu._ For a _Carmelite_, you mean. But such as it is you are welcome to +it. If the Provision be not very dainty you have it very freely. + +_Ti._ Your House is so full of Talk, that not only the Walls but the +very Cup speaks. + +_Eu._ What does it say? + +_Ti. No Man is hurt but by himself._ + +_Eu._ The Cup pleads for the Cause of the Wine. For it is a common +Thing, if Persons get a Fever or the Head-ach by over drinking, to lay +it upon the Wine, when they have brought it upon themselves by their +Excess. + +_Soph._ Mine speaks _Greek_. [Greek: En oinô alêtheia.] _In Wine there's +Truth_ (when Wine is in the Wit is out.) + +_Eu._ This gives us to understand that it is not safe for Priests or +Privy-Counsellors to give themselves so to Wine, because Wine commonly +brings that to the Mouth that lay conceal'd in the Heart. + +_Soph._ In old Time among the _Egyptians_ it was unlawful for their +Priests to drink any Wine at all, and yet in those Days there was no +auricular Confession. + +_Eu._ It is now become lawful for all Persons to drink Wine, but how +expedient it is I know not. What Book is that, _Eulalius_, you take out +of your Pocket? It seems to be a very neat one, it is all over gilded. + +_Eulal._ It is more valuable for the Inside than the Out. It is St. +_Paul's_ Epistles, that I always carry about me, as my beloved +Entertainment, which I take out now upon the Occasion of something you +said, which minds me of a Place that I have beat my Brains about a long +Time, and I am not come to a full Satisfaction in yet. It is in the 6th +Chapter of the first Epistle to the _Corinthians_, _All Things are +lawful for me, but all Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful +for me, but I will not be brought under the Power of any_. In the first +Place (if we will believe the Stoicks) nothing can be profitable to us, +that is not honest: How comes _Paul_ then to distinguish betwixt that +which is lawful, and that which is expedient? It is not lawful to whore, +or get drunk, how then are all Things lawful? But if _Paul_ speaks of +some particular Things only, which he would have to be lawful, I can't +guess by the Tenor of the Place, which those particular Things are. +From that which follows, it may be gather'd, that he there speaks of the +Choice of Meats. For some abstain from Things offer'd to Idols, and +others from Meats forbidden by _Moses_'s Law. In the 8th Chapter he +treats of Things offer'd to Idols, and in the 10th Chapter explaining +the Meaning of this Place, says, _All Things are lawful for me, but all +Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful for me, but all Things +edify not. Let no Man seek his own, but every Man the Things of another. +Whatsoever is sold in the Shambles, eat ye_. And that which St. _Paul_ +subjoins, agrees with what he said before: _Meats for the Belly, and the +Belly for Meats; but God shall destroy both it and them_. Now that which +has Respect to the _Judaical_ Choice of Meats, is in the Close of the +10th Chapter. _Give none Offence, neither to the Jews nor the Gentiles, +nor to the Church of God; even as I please all Men in all Things, not +seeking my own Profit, but the Profit of many, that they may be sav'd_. +Where in that he saith to the _Gentiles_, he seems to have Respect to +Things offer'd to Idols; and where he speaketh to the _Jews_ he seems to +refer to the Choice of Meats; what he says to the Church of God +appertains to the Weak, collected out of both Sorts. It was lawful, it +seems, to eat of all Meats whatsoever, and all Things that are Clean to +the Clean. But the Question remaining is, Whether it be expedient or no? +The Liberty of the Gospel makes all Things lawful; but Charity has +always a Regard to my Neighbour's Good, and therefore often abstains +from Things lawful, rather chasing to condescend to what is for +another's Advantage, than to make Use of its own Liberty. But now here +arises a double Difficulty; first, that here is nothing that either +precedes or follows in the Context that agrees with this Sense. For he +chides the _Corinthians_ for being Seditious, Fornicators, Adulterers, +and given to go to Law before wicked Judges. Now what Coherence is there +with this to say, _All Things are lawful for me, but all Things are not +expedient_? And in the following Matter, he returns to the Case of +_Incontinence_, which he had also repeated before, only leaving out the +Charge of Contention: _But the Body_, says he, _is not for Fornication, +but for the Lord, and the Lord for the Body._ But however, this Scruple +may be solv'd too, because a little before, in the Catalogue of Sins, he +had made Mention of Idolatry. _Be not deceived, neither Fornicators, nor +Idolaters, nor Adulterers_; now the Eating of Things offer'd to Idols is +a certain Kind of Idolatry, and therefore he immediately subjoins, _Meat +is for the Belly, and the Belly for Meat_. Intimating, that in a Case of +Necessity, and for a Season, a Man may eat any Thing, unless Charity +towards his Neighbour shall dissuade it: But that Uncleanness is in all +Persons, and at all Times to be detested. It is Matter of Necessity that +we eat, but that Necessity shall be taken away at the Resurrection of +the Dead. But if we are lustful, that proceeds from Wickedness. But +there is another Scruple that I can't tell how to solve, or how to +reconcile to that Passage: _But I will not be brought under the Power of +any_. For he says, he has the Power of all Things, and yet he will not +be brought under the Power of any one. If he may be said to be under +another Man's Power, that abstains for Fear of offending, it is what he +speaks of himself in the ninth Chapter, _For though I be free from all +Men, yet have made myself Servant to all, that I may gain all._ St. +_Ambrose_ stumbling, I suppose, at this Scruple, takes this to be the +Apostle's genuine Sense for the better Understanding of what he says in +the 9th Chapter, where he claims to himself the Power of doing that +which the rest of the Apostles (either true or false) did, of receiving +a Maintenance from them to whom he preach'd the Gospel. But he forbore +this, although he might have done it, as a Thing expedient among the +_Corinthians_, whom he reprov'd for so many and enormous Iniquities. And +moreover, he that receives, is in some Degree in the Power of him from +whom he receives, and suffers some Kind of Abatement in his Authority. +For he that takes, cannot so freely reprove his Benefactor; and he that +gives will not so easily take a Reprehension from him that he has +obliged. And in this did the Apostle _Paul_ abstain from that which was +lawful, for the Credit of his apostolical Liberty, which in this Case he +would not have to be rendered obnoxious to any one, that he might with +the greater Freedom and Authority reprehend their Vices. Indeed, I like +this Explication of St. _Ambrose_ very well. But yet, if any Body had +rather apply this Passage to Meats, St. _Paul_'s, Saying, _but I will +not be brought under the Power of any_, may be taken in this Sense: +Although I may sometimes abstain from Meats offered to Idols, or +forbidden by the _Mosaical_ Law, out of Regard to the Salvation of my +Brothers Souls, and the Furtherance of the Gospel; yet my Mind is free, +well knowing that it is lawful to eat all Manner of Meats, according to +the Necessity of the Body. But there were some false Apostles, who went +about to persuade them, that some Meats, were in themselves, by their +own Nature unclean, and were to be forborn, not upon Occasion only, but +at all Times; and that as strict as Adultery or Murder. Now those that +were thus misled, were reduced under another's Power, and fell from +their Gospel Liberty. _Theophylact_ (as I remember) is the only Man that +advances an Opinion different from all these. _It is lawful_, says he, +_to eat all Sorts of Meats; but it is not expedient to eat to Excess; +for from Luxury comes Lust._ There is no Impiety, indeed, in this Sense; +but it does not seem to me to be the genuine Sense of the Place. I have +acquainted you with my Scruples, it will become your Charity to set me +to Rights. + +_Eu._ Your Discourse is, indeed, answerable to your Name, and one that +knows how to propound Questions as you do, has no Need of any Body to +answer them but himself. For you have so proposed your Doubts, as to put +one quite out of doubt, altho' St. _Paul_, in that Epistle, (proposing +to handle many Things at once) passes often from one Argument to +another, repeating what he had intermitted. + +_Ch._ If I were not afraid, that by my Loquacity I should divert you +from eating your Dinners, and did think it were lawful to intermix any +Thing out of profane Authors with sacred Discourses, I would venture to +propose something that I read to Day; not so much with Perplexity, as +with a singular Delight. + +_Eu._ Whatsoever is pious, and conduces to good Manners, ought not to be +called profane. The first Place must indeed be given to the Authority of +the Scriptures; but nevertheless, I sometimes find some Things said or +written by the Antients; nay, even by the Heathens; nay, by the Poets +themselves, so chastly, so holily, and so divinely, that I cannot +persuade myself, but that when they wrote them, they were divinely +inspired; and perhaps the Spirit of Christ diffuses itself farther than +we imagine; and that there are more Saints than we have in our +Catalogue. To confess freely among Friends, I can't read _Tully_ of _Old +Age_, of _Friendship_, his _Offices_, or his _Tusculan Questions_, +without kissing the Book, and Veneration for that divine Soul. And on +the contrary, when I read some of our modern Authors, treating of +_Politics, Oeconomics_ and _Ethics_, good God! how cold they are in +Comparison of these? Nay, how do they seem to be insensible of what they +write themselves? So that I had rather lose _Scotus_ and twenty more +such as he, than one _Cicero_ or _Plutarch_. Not that I am wholly +against them neither; but because, by the reading of the one, I find +myself become better; whereas, I rise from the other, I know not how +coldly affected to Virtue, but most violently inclin'd to Cavil and +Contention; therefore never fear to propose it, whatsoever it is. + +_Ch._ Although all _Tully_'s Books of Philosophy seem to breathe out +something divine; yet that Treatise of _Old Age_, that he wrote in old +Age, seems to me to be according to the _Greek_ Proverb; _the Song of +the dying Swan_. I was reading it to Day, and these Words pleasing me +above the rest, I got 'em by Heart: _Should it please God to give me a +Grant to begin my Life again from my very Cradle, and once more to run +over the Course of my Years I have lived, I would not upon any Terms +accept of it: Nor would I, having in a Manner finished my Race, run it +over again from the starting Place to the Goal: For what Pleasure has +this Life in it? nay, rather, what Pain has it not? But if there were +not, there would be undoubtedly in it Satiety or Trouble. I am not for +bewailing my past Life as a great many, and learned Men too, have done, +nor do I repent that I have liv'd; because, I have liv'd so, that I am +satisfy'd I have not liv'd in vain. And when I leave this Life, I leave +it as an Inn, and not as a Place of Abode. For Nature has given us our +Bodies as an Inn to lodge in, and not to dwell in. O! glorious Day will +that be, when I shall leave this Rabble-rout and Defilements of the +World behind me, to go to that Society and World of Spirits!_ Thus far +out of _Cato_. What could be spoken more divinely by a Christian? I wish +all the Discourses of our Monks, even with their holy Virgins, were such +as the Dialogue of this aged Pagan, with the Pagan Youths of his Time. + +_Eu._ It may be objected, that this Colloquy of _Tully_'s was but a +Fiction. + +_Ch._ It is all one to me, whether the Honour of these Expressions be +given to _Cato_, who thought and spoke them, or to _Cicero_, whose Mind +could form such divine Things in Contemplation, and whose Pen could +represent such excellent Matter in Words so answerable to it; though +indeed I am apt to think that _Cato_, if he did not speak these very +Words, yet that in his familiar Conversation he us'd Words of the very +same Import. For indeed, _M. Tully_ was not a Man of that Impudence, to +draw _Cato_ otherwise than he was. Beside, that such an Unlikeness in a +Dialogue would have been a great Indecorum, which is the thing chiefly +to be avoided in this Sort of Discourse; and especially, at a Time when +his Character was fresh in the Memories of all Men. + +_Th._ That which you say is very likely: But I'll tell you what came +into my Mind upon your Recital. I have often admired with myself, that +considering that all Men wish for long Life, and are afraid of Death; +that yet, I have scarce found any Man so happy, (I don't speak of old, +but of middle-aged Men); but that if the Question were put to him, +whether or no, if it should be granted him to grow young again, and run +over the same good and ill Fortune that he had before, he would not make +the same Answer that _Cato_ did; especially passing a true Reflection +upon the Mixture of Good and Ill of his past Life. For the Remembrance +even of the pleasantest Part of it is commonly attended with Shame, and +Sting of Conscience, insomuch that the Memory of past Delights is more +painful to us, than that of past Misfortunes. Therefore it was wisely +done of the ancient Poets in the Fable of _Lethe_, to represent the Dead +drinking largely of the Waters of Forgetfulness, before their Souls were +affected with any Desire of the Bodies they had left behind them. + +_Ur._ It is a Thing well worthy of our Admiration, and what I myself +have observ'd in some Persons. But that in _Cato_ that pleases me the +most is his Declaration. _Neither am I sorry that I have liv'd._ Where +is the _Christian_, that has so led his Life, as to be able to say as +much as this old Man? It is a common Thing for Men, who have scrap'd +great Estates together by Hook or by Crook, when they are upon their +Death Beds, and about to leave them, then to think they have not liv'd +in vain. But _Cato_ therefore thought, that he had not liv'd in vain, +upon the Conscience of his having discharg'd all the Parts of an honest +and useful Citizen, and an uncorrupted Magistrate; and that he should +leave to Posterity, Monuments of his Virtue and Industry. And what could +be spoken more divinely than this, _I depart as from an Inn, and not an +Habitation_. So long we may stay in an Inn till the Host bids us be +gone, but a Man will not easily be forc'd from his own House. And yet +from hence the Fall of the House, or Fire, or some Accident drives us. +Or if nothing of these happen, the Structure falls to Pieces with old +Age, thereby admonishing us that we must change our Quarters. + +_Neph._ That Expression of _Socrates_ in _Plato_ is not less elegant: +_Methinks_, says he, _the Soul of a Man is in the Body as in a +Garrison, there is no quitting of it without the Leave of the Generals, +nor no staying any longer in it, than during the Pleasure of him that +plac'd him there._ This Allusion of _Plato'_s, of a Garrison instead of +a House, is the more significant of the two. For in a House is only +imply'd Abode, in a Garrison we are appointed to some Duty by our +Governor. And much to the same Purpose is it, that in Holy Writ the Life +of Man is sometimes call'd a Warfare, and at other times a Race. + +_Ur._ But _Cato_'s Speech, methinks, seems to agree very well with that +of St. _Paul_, who writing to the _Corinthians_, calls that heavenly +Mansion, which we look for after this Life in one Place [Greek: oikian] +a House, in another [Greek: oikêtêrion] a Mansion, and moreover (besides +that) he calls the Body [Greek: skênos] a Tabernacle. For _we also_, +(says he) _who are in this Tabernacle, groan, being burthened._ + +_Neph._ Much after this Manner says St. _Peter; And I think it meet_ +(says he) _as long as I am in this Tabernacle, to stir you up by putting +you in Mind, being assured that I shall shortly put off this +Tabernacle._ And what else does _Christ_ himself say to us, but that we +should live and watch, as if we were presently to die: And so apply +ourselves to honest Things, as if we were to live for ever? And when we +hear these excellent Words of _Cato, O that glorious Day_, do we not +seem to hear St. _Paul_ himself saying, _I desire to be dissolved, and +to be with Christ_? + +_Ch._ How happy are they that wait for Death with such a Frame of Mind? +But as for _Cato_'s Speech, altho' it be an excellent one, methinks +there is more Boldness and Arrogance in it, than becomes a Christian. +Indeed, I never read anything in a Heathen, that comes nearer to a +Christian, than what _Socrates_ said to _Crito_, a little before he +drank his Poison; _Whether I shall be approv'd or not in the Sight of +God, I cannot tell; but this I am certain of, that I have most +affectionately endeavoured to please him; and I have a good Hope, that +he will accept of my Endeavours._ This great Man was diffident of his +own Performances; but so, that being conscious to himself of the +Propensity of his Inclination to obey the divine Will, he conceived a +good Hope, that God, of his Goodness, would accept him for the Honesty +of his Intentions. + +_Neph._ Indeed, it was a wonderful Elevation of Mind in a Man, that knew +not Christ, nor the holy Scriptures: And therefore, I can scarce +forbear, when I read such Things of such Men, but cry out, _Sancte +Socrates, ora pro nobis; Saint_ Socrates, _pray for us._ + +_Ch._ And I have much ado sometimes to keep myself from entertaining +good Hopes of the Souls of _Virgil_ and _Horace._ + +_Neph._ But how unwillingly have I seen many Christians die? Some put +their Trust in Things not to be confided in; others breathe out their +Souls in Desperation, either out of a Consciousness of their lewd Lives, +or by Reason of Scruples that have been injected into their Minds, even +in their dying Hours, by some indiscreet Men. + +_Ch._ It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent their Time in +philosophizing about Ceremonies all their Lives. + +_Neph._ What do you mean by Ceremonies? + +_Ch._ I'll tell you, but with Protestation over and over beforehand, +that I don't find Fault with the Sacraments and Rites of the Church, but +rather highly approve of them; but I blame a wicked and superstitious +Sort of People, or (to put it in the softest Term) the simple and +unlearned Persons, who teach People to put their Confidence in these +Things, omitting those Things which make them truly Christians. + +_Neph._ I don't yet clearly understand what it is you aim at. + +_Ch._ I'll be plainer then. If you look into Christians in common, don't +you find they live as if the whole Sum of Religion consisted in +Ceremonies? With how much Pomp are the antient Rites of the Church set +forth in Baptism? The Infant waits without the Church Door, the Exorcism +is performed, the Catechizing is performed, Vows are made, Satan is +abjured, with all his Pomps and Pleasures; then the Child is anointed, +sign'd, season'd with Salt, dipt, a Charge given to his Sureties to see +it well brought up; and the Oblation-Money being paid, they are +discharged, and by this Time the Child passes for a Christian, and in +some Sense is so. A little Time after, it is anointed again, and in Time +learns to confess, receives the Sacrament, is accustom'd to rest upon +Holy-Days, to hear Divine Service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from +Flesh; and if he observes all these, he passes for an absolute +Christian. He marries a Wife, and then comes on another Sacrament; he +enters into Holy Orders, is anointed again, and consecrated, his Habit +is chang'd, and then to Prayers. Now I approve of the doing of all this +well enough; but the doing of them more out of Custom than Conscience, I +don't approve; but to think that nothing else is requisite for the +making a Christian, I absolutely disapprove: For the greatest Part of +Men in the World trust to these Things, and think they have nothing else +to do, but get Wealth by Right or Wrong, to gratify their Passions of +Rage, Lust, Malice, Ambition: And this they do till they come upon their +Death Bed; and then there follows more Ceremonies; Confession upon +Confession, more Unction still, the Eucharist is administred; Tapers, +the Cross, holy Water are brought in; Indulgencies are procured, if they +are to be had for Love or Money; Orders are given for a magnificent +Funeral; and then comes on another solemn Contract: When the Man is in +the Agony of Death, there's one stands by bawling in his Ear, and now +and then dispatches him before his Time, if he chance to be a little in +Drink, or have better Lungs than ordinary. Now although these Things may +be well enough, as they are done in Conformity to ecclesiastical +Customs; yet there are some more internal Impressions, which have an +Efficacy to fortify us against the Assaults of Death, by filling our +Hearts with Joy, and helping us to go out of the World with a Christian +Assurance. + +_Eu._ You speak very piously and truly; but in the mean Time here is no +Body eats; I told you before, that you must expect nothing after the +second Course, and that a Country one too, lest any Body should look for +Pheasants, Moorhens, and fine Kickshaws. Here, Boy! take away these +Things, and bring up the rest. You see, not the Affluence, but the +Straitness of my Fortune. This is the Product of my Gardens you have +seen; don't spare, if you like any Thing. + +_Ti._ There's so great a Variety, it does a Man good to look upon it. + +_Eu._ That you mayn't altogether despise my Thriftiness, this Dish would +have chear'd up the Heart of old _Hilarion_, the evangelical Monk, with +a hundred more of his Fellows, the Monks of that Age. But _Paul_ and +_Anthony_ would have lived a Month upon it. + +_Ti._ Yes, and Prince _Peter_ too, I fancy would have leap'd at it, when +he lodg'd at _Simon_ the Tanner's. + +_Eu._ Yes; and _Paul_ too, I believe, when by Reason of Poverty he sat +up a-Nights to make Tents. + +_Ti._ How much do we owe to the Goodness of God! But yet, I had rather +suffer Hunger with _Peter_ and _Paul_, upon Condition, that what I +wanted for my Body, might be made up by the Satisfaction of my Mind. + +_Eu._ Let us learn of St. _Paul_, both how to abound, and how to suffer +Want. When we want, let us praise God, that he has afforded us Matter to +exercise our Frugality and Patience upon: When we abound, let us be +thankful for his Munificence, who by his Liberality, invites and +provokes us to love him; and using those Things the divine Bounty has +plentifully bestowed upon us, with Moderation and Temperance; let us be +mindful of the Poor, whom God has been pleas'd to suffer to want what he +has made abound to us, that neither Side may want an Occasion of +exercising Virtue: For he bestows upon us sufficient for the Relief of +our Brother's Necessity, that we may obtain his Mercy, and that the Poor +on the other Hand, being refresh'd by our Liberality, may give him +Thanks for putting it into our Hearts, and recommend us to him in their +Prayers; and, very well remember'd! Come hither, Boy; bid my Wife send +_Gudula_ some of the roast Meat that's left, 'tis a very good poor Woman +in the Neighbourhood big with Child, her Husband is lately dead, a +profuse, lazy Fellow, that has left nothing but a Stock of Children. + +_Ti._ Christ has commanded _to give to every one that asks_; but if I +should do so, I should go a begging myself in a Month's Time. + +_Eu._ I suppose Christ means only such as ask for Necessaries: For to +them who ask, nay, who importune, or rather extort great Sums from +People to furnish voluptuous Entertainments, or, which is worse, to feed +Luxury and Lust, it is Charity to deny; nay, it is a Kind of Rapine to +bestow that which we owe to the present Necessity of our Neighbours, +upon those that will abuse it; upon this Consideration it is, that it +seems to me, that they can scarcely be excus'd from being guilty of a +mortal Sin, who at a prodigious Expence, either build or beautify +Monasteries or Churches, when in the mean Time so many living Temples of +Christ are ready to starve for Want of Food and Clothing, and are sadly +afflicted with the Want of other Necessaries. When I was in _England_, I +saw St. _Thomas_'s, Tomb all over bedeck'd with a vast Number of Jewels +of an immense Price, besides other rich Furniture, even to Admiration; I +had rather that these Superfluities should be apply'd to charitable +Uses, than to be reserv'd for Princes, that shall one Time or other make +a Booty of them. The holy Man, I am confident, would have been better +pleas'd, to have his Tomb adorn'd with Leaves and Flowers. When I was in +_Lombardy_, I saw a Cloyster of the _Carthusians_, not far from _Pavia_; +the Chapel is built from Top to Bottom, within and without, of white +Marble, and almost all that is in it, as Altars, Pillars, and Tombs, are +all Marble. To what Purpose was it to be at such a vast Expence upon a +Marble Temple, for a few solitary Monks to sing in? And 'tis more +Burthen to them than Use too, for they are perpetually troubled with +Strangers, that come thither, only out of mere Curiosity, to see the +Marble Temple. And that, which is yet more ridiculous, I was told there, +that there is an Endowment of three thousand Ducats a Year for keeping +the Monastery in Repair. And there are some that think that it is +Sacrilege, to convert a Penny of that Money to any other pious Uses, +contrary to the Intention of the Testator; they had rather pull down, +that they may rebuild, than not go on with building. I thought meet to +mention these, being something more remarkable than ordinary; tho' we +have a World of Instances of this Kind up and down in our Churches. +This, in my Opinion, is rather Ambition than Charity. Rich Men +now-a-Days will have their Monuments in Churches, whereas in Times past +they could hardly get Room for the Saints there: They must have their +Images there, and their Pictures, forsooth, with their Names at length, +their Titles, and the Inscription of their Donation; and this takes up a +considerable Part of the Church; and I believe in Time they'll be for +having their Corpse laid even in the very Altars themselves. But +perhaps, some will say, would you have their Munificence be discourag'd? +I say no, by no Means, provided what they offer to the Temple of God be +worthy of it. But if I were a Priest or a Bishop, I would put it into +the Heads of those thick-scull'd Courtiers or Merchants, that if they +would atone for their Sins to Almighty God, they should privately bestow +their Liberality upon the Relief of the Poor. But they reckon all as +lost, that goes out so by Piece-meal, and is privily distributed toward +the Succour of the Needy, that the next Age shall have no Memorial of +the Bounty. But I think no Money can be better bestow'd, than that which +Christ himself would have put to his Account, and makes himself Debtor +for. + +_Ti._ Don't you take that Bounty to be well plac'd that is bestow'd upon +Monasteries? + +_Eu._ Yes, and I would be a Benefactor myself, if I had an Estate that +would allow it; but it should be such a Provision for Necessaries, as +should not reach to Luxury. And I would give something too, wheresoever +I found a religious Man that wanted it. + +_Ti._ Many are of Opinion, that what is given to common Beggars, is not +well bestowed. + +_Eu._ I would do something that Way too; but with Discretion: But in my +Opinion, it were better if every City were to maintain their own Poor; +and Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars were not suffer'd to strole about, who +want Work more than Money. + +_Ti._ To whom then would you in an especial Manner give? How much? And +to what Purposes? + +_Eu._ It is a hard Matter for me to answer to all these Points exactly: +First of all, there should be an Inclination to be helpful to all, and +after that, the Proportion must be according to my Ability, as +Opportunity should offer; and especially to those whom I know to be poor +and honest; and when my own Purse fail'd me, I would exhort others to +Charity. + +_Ti._ But will you give us Leave now to discourse freely in your +Dominions? + +_Eu._ As freely as if you were at Home at your own Houses. + +_Ti._ You don't love vast Expences upon Churches, you say, and this +House might have been built for less than it was. + +_Eu._ Indeed, I think this House of mine to be within the Compass of +cleanly and convenient, far from Luxury, or I am mistaken. Some that +live by begging, have built with more State; and yet, these Gardens of +Mine, such as they are, pay a Tribute to the Poor; and I daily lessen my +Expence, and am the more frugal in Expence upon myself and Family, that +I may contribute the more plentifully to them. + +_Ti._ If all Men were of your Mind, it would be better than it is with a +good many People who deserve better, that are now in extreme Want; and +on the other Hand, many of those pamper'd Carcases would be brought +down, who deserve to be taught Sobriety and Modesty by Penury. + +_Eu._ It may be so: but shall I mend your mean Entertainment now, with +the best Bit at last? + +_Ti._ We have had more than enough of Delicacies already. + +_Eu._ That which I am now about to give you, let your Bellies be never +so full, won't over-charge your Stomachs. + +_Ti._ What is it? + +_Eu._ The Book of the four Evangelists, that I may treat you with the +best at last. Read, Boy, from the Place where you left off last. + +_Boy. No Man can serve two Masters; for either he will hate the one and +love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other: +You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore, I say unto you, take no +thought for your Life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink: Nor +yet for your Body, what you shall put on. Is not the Life more than +Meat, and the Body than Raiment?_ + +_Eu._ Give me the Book. In this Place _Jesus Christ_ seems to me, to +have said the same Thing twice: For instead of what he had said in the +first Place, _i.e._ _he will hate_; he says immediately, _he will +despise_. And for what he had said before, _he will love_, he by and by +turns it, _he will hold to_. The Sense is the same, tho' the Persons are +chang'd. + +_Ti._ I do not very well apprehend what you mean. + +_Eu._ Let me, if you please, demonstrate it mathematically. In the first +Part, put _A_ for the one, and _B_ for the other. In the latter Part, +put _B_ for one, and _A_ for the other, inverting the Order; for either +_A_ will hate, and _B_ will love, or _B_ will hold to, and _A_ will +despise. Is it not plain now, that _A_ is twice hated, and _B_ twice +beloved? + +_Ti._ 'Tis very clear. + +_Eu._ This Conjunction, _or_, especially repeated, has the Emphasis of a +contrary, or at least, a different Meaning. Would it not be otherwise +absurd to say, _Either_ Peter _shall overcome me, and I'll yield; or +I'll yield, and_ Peter _shall overcome me?_ + +_Ti._ A pretty Sophism, as I'm an honest Man. + +_Eu._ I shall think it so when you have made it out, not before. + +_The._ I have something runs in my Mind, and I'm with Child to have it +out: I can't tell what to make on't, but let it be what it will, you +shall have it if you please; if it be a Dream, you shall be the +Interpreters, or midwife it into the World. + +_Eu._ Although it is looked upon to be unlucky to talk of Dreams at +Table, and it is immodest to bring forth before so many Men; but this +Dream, or this Conception of thy Mind, be it what it will, let us have +it. + +_The._ In my Judgment it is rather the Thing than the Person that is +chang'd in this Text. And the Words _one_ and _one_ do not refer to _A_ +and _B_; but either Part of them, to which of the other you please; so +that chuse which you will, it must be opposed to that, which is +signified by the other; as if you should say, you _shall either exclude_ +A _and admit_ B, _or you shall admit_ A _and exclude_ B. Here's the +Thing chang'd, and the Person the same: And it is so spoken of _A_, that +it is the same Case, if you should say the same Thing of _B_; as thus, +either you shall exclude _B_ or admit _A_, or admit _B_ or exclude _A_. + +_Eu._ In Truth, you have very artificially solv'd this Problem: No +Mathematician could have demonstrated it better upon a Slate. + +_Soph._ That which is the greatest Difficulty to me is this; that we are +forbidden to take Thought for to Morrow; when yet, _Paul_ himself +wrought with his own Hands for Bread, and sharply rebukes lazy People, +and those that live upon other Men's Labour, exhorting them to take +Pains, and get their Living by their Fingers Ends, that they may have +wherewith to relieve others in their Necessities. Are not they holy and +warrantable Labours, by which a poor Husband provides for his dear Wife +and Children? + +_Ti._ This is a Question, which, in my Opinion, may be resolv'd several +Ways. First of all, This Text had a particular Respect to those Times. +The Apostles being dispers'd far and wide for the Preaching of the +Gospel, all sollicitous Care for a Maintenance was to be thrown aside, +it being to be supply'd otherwise, having not Leisure to get their +Living by their Labour; and especially, they having no Way of getting +it, but by Fishing. But now the World is come to another Pass, and we +all love to live at Ease, and shun Painstaking. Another Way of +expounding it may be this; Christ had not forbid Industry, but Anxiety +of Thought, and this Anxiety of Thought is to be understood according to +the Temper of Men in common, who are anxious for nothing more than +getting a Livelihood; that setting all other Things aside, this is the +only Thing they mind. And our Saviour does in a Manner intimate the same +himself, when he says, that one Man cannot serve two Masters. For he +that wholly gives himself up to any Thing, is a Servant to it. Now he +would have the Propagation of the Gospel be our chief, but yet, not our +only Care. For he says, _Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and these +Things shall be added unto you_. He does not say, seek only; but seek +first. And besides, I take the Word to Morrow, to be hyperbolical, and +in that, signifies a Time to come, a great While hence, it being the +Custom of the Misers of this World, to be anxiously scraping together, +and laying up for Posterity. + +_Eu._ We allow of your Interpretation; but what does he mean, when he +says, _Be not sollicitous for your Life, what you shall eat_? The Body +is cloth'd, but the Soul does not eat. + +_Ti._ By _Anima_, is meant Life, which can't subsist without Meat (or is +in Danger, if you take away its Food): But it is not so, if you take +away the Garment, which is more for Modesty than Necessity. If a Person +is forc'd to go naked, he does not die presently; but Want of Food is +certain Death. + +_Eu._ I do not well understand how this Sentence agrees with that which +follows; _Is not the Life more than Meat, and the Body than Raiment_? +For if Life be so precious, we ought to take the more Care of it. + +_Ti._ This Argument does rather increase our Sollicitousness than lessen +it. + +_Eu._ But this is none of our Saviour's Meaning; who, by this Argument, +creates in us a stronger Confidence in the Father: For if a bountiful +Father hath given us _gratis_ that which is the more valuable, he will +also bestow upon us what is less valuable: He that has given us Life, +will not deny us Food: And he that has given us Bodies, will by some +Means or other give us Cloaths too: Therefore, relying upon his Bounty, +we have no Reason to disquiet ourselves with Anxiety of Thought, for +Things of smaller Moment. What remains then, but using this World, as +though we used it not, we transfer our whole Study and Application to +the Love of heavenly Things, and rejecting the World and the Devil +universally, with all his crafty Delusions, we chearfully serve God +alone, who will never forsake his Children? But all this While, here's +no Body touches the Fruits. Certainly you may eat this with Joy, for +this is the Product of my own Farm, and did not cost much Care to +provide it. + +_Ti._ We have very plentifully satisfied our Bodies. + +_Eu._ I should be glad if you had satisfied your Minds too. + +_Ti._ Our Minds have been satisfy'd more plentifully than our Bodies. + +_Eu._ Boy, take away, and bring some Water; now, my Friends, let us +wash, that if we have in eating contracted any Guilt, being cleansed, we +may conclude with a Hymn: If you please, I'll conclude with what I begun +out of St. _Chrysostom_. + +_Ti._ We entreat you that you would do it. + +_Eu. Glory to thee, O Lord; Glory to thee, O holy One; Glory to thee, O +King; as thou hast given us Meat for our Bodies, so replenish our Souls +with Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be found +acceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shalt +render to every one according to his Works_. + +Boy. _Amen_. + +_Ti._ In Truth, it is a pious and elegant Hymn. + +_Eu._ Of St. _Chrysostom_'s Translation too. + +_Ti._ Where is it to be found? + +_Eu._ In his 56th Homily on St. _Matthew_. + +_Ti._ I'll be sure to read it to Day: But I have a Mind to be informed +of one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these three +Denominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_. + +_Eu._ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these three +Respects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holy +Blood from the Tyranny of the Devil, and hath taken us to himself. +Secondly, We stile him Holy, because he being the Sanctifier of all Men, +not being content alone to have freely pardoned us all our Sins _gratis_ +by his holy Spirit, hath bestow'd upon us his Righteousness, that we +might follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for the +Reward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of God +the Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, that +we have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be a +Tyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of the +Filth and Uncleanness of our Sins; and instead of the Torments of Hell, +the Joys of Life everlasting. + +_Ti._ Indeed it is a very pious Sentence. + +_Eu._ This is your first Visit, Gentlemen, and I must not dismiss you +without Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been. +Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will draw +Lots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that is +to say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, a +hundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are four +little Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will be +more agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses. + +_Ti._ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but do +you distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come the +welcomer where they fall. + +_Eu._ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, it +teaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom. +This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to the +Doctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be given +and abound. + +_Ti._ I will be sure to make it my Study, to stand in less Need of it. + +_Eu. Sophronius_, this Dial will suit you very well, whom I know to be +so good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of that +precious Thing be lost. It came out of the furthest Part of _Dalmatia_, +and that's all the Commendation I shall give it. + +_Sophr._ You indeed admonish a Sluggard to be diligent. + +_Eu._ You have in this little Book the Gospel written on Vellum; it +deserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were a +fitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may be +more and more like to your Name. + +_The._ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present ill +bestow'd. + +_Eu._ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions, +_Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in your +Mouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: And +now for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in your +Hand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into the +Bargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel. + +_Eu._ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiable +Reader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books. + +_Ch._ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and in +the next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance. + +_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and to +excellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, by +which the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, and +that by such an Artist. + +_The._ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as you +have with Instruments. + +_Eu._ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books of +Morals, and very fairly written by one very well skill'd in the _Greek_; +I find in them so much Purity of Thought, that it is my Amazement, how +such evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This I +will present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_ +Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as a +thrifty Dispenser of his Time. + +_Neph._ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but your +Compliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, as +Panegyricks. + +_Eu._ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these small +Matters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'd +by your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment may +have upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiser +and better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, and +much less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hour +in seeing the rest of the Curiosities of my little Palace. + +_Ti._ That's the very Thing we were about to desire of you. + +_Eu._ There is no Need of entreating a Man of his Word. I believe you +have seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; and +which Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Green +before you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by putting +down the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun is +incommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thin +ones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in my +Garden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and their +Flowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviour +celebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ a +keeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'd +in the Gospel, in the Height of his Luxury, by and by sinking into Hell. +And here is _Lazarus_, driven away from his Doors, by and by to be +receiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom. + +_Ti._ We don't very well know this Story. + +_Eu._ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be most +luxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth her +Hand for the other. Here is the Battel of the _Centaurs_; and here +_Alexander_ the Great thrusts his Launce through the Body of _Clytus_. +These Examples preach Sobriety to us at Table, and deter a Man from +Gluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'd +with very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones. + +_Ti._ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is so +shining. + +_Eu._ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing at +the Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Piece +of Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully for +the Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospect +of the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions of +it describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have the +Pictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Painting +them all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, and +stretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice, +saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in a +Glory, embracing him. + +_Ti._ As God shall bless me, a Piece of Work worthy of _Apelles_. + +_Eu._ Adjoining to the Library, there is a little Study, but a very neat +one; and 'tis but removing a Picture, and there is a Chimney behind it, +if the Cold be troublesome. In Summer-Time it passes for solid Wall. + +_Ti._ Every Thing here looks like Jewels; and here's a wonderful pretty +Scent. + +_Eu._ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and both +these may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery that +looks into the Garden, and there is a Chapel adjoining to it. + +_Ti._ The Place itself deserves a Deity. + +_Eu._ Let us go now to those three Walks above the other that you have +seen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have a +Prospect into both Gardens; but only by Windows with Shutters; +especially, in the Walls that have no Prospect into the inner Garden, +and that's for the Safety of the House. Here upon the Left-Hand, because +there is more Light, and fewer Windows, is painted the whole Life of +_Jesus_, out of the History of the four Evangelists, as far as to the +Mission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles out +of the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator may +see near what Lake, or upon what Mountain such or such a Thing was done. +There are also Titles to every Story, with an Abstract of the Contents, +as that of our Saviour, _I will, Be thou clean_. Over against it you +have the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out of +the Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christ +and Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursing +with myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, in +giving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears me +Company, or sometimes a Friend that takes Delight in pious Things. + +_Ti._ Who could be tired with this House? + +_Eu._ No Body that has learn'd to live by himself. Upon the upper Border +(as though not fit to be among the rest) are all the Popes Heads with +their Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Cæsars_, for the +better taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is a +Lodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of my +Orchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow, +is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and I +make Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, with +any infectious Disease. + +_Ti._ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to be +avoided. + +_Eu._ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this the +less, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that a +Basilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would not +stick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, is +Rashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wife +shall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and make +my House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a little +Business abroad: I must ride out to some of the Neighbouring Towns. + +_Ti._ What, a Money Business? + +_Eu._ I would not leave such Friends for the Sake of receiving a little +Money. + +_Ti._ Perhaps you have appointed a hunting Match. + +_Eu._ It is a Kind of Hunting indeed, but it is something else I hunt, +than either Boars or Stags. + +_Ti._ What is it then? + +_Eu._ I'll tell you: I have a Friend in one Town lies dangerously ill; +the Physician fears his Life, but I am afraid of his Soul: For I don't +think he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'll +go and give him some pious Admonitions that he may be the better for, +whether he lives or dies. In another Town there are two Men bitterly at +odds, they are no ill Men neither, but Men of a very obstinate Temper. +If the Matter should rise to a greater Height, I am afraid it would be +of ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in the +World, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my hunting +Match, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink their +Healths. + +_Ti._ A very pious Hunting, indeed; we pray heartily, that not _Delia_ +but _Christ_ would give you good Success. + +_Eu._ I had rather obtain this Prey, than have two thousand Ducats left +me for a Legacy. + +_Ti._ Will you come back quickly? + +_Eu._ Not till I have try'd every Thing; therefore, I can't set a Time. +In the mean Time, be as free with any Thing of mine, as though it were +your own, and enjoy yourselves. + +_Ti._ God be with you, forward and backward. + + + + +_The APOTHEOSIS of CAPNIO._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Canonizing, or entring the incomparable Man_, John + Reuclin, _into the Number of the Saints, teaches how much + Honour is due to famous Men, who have by their Industry + improv'd the liberal Sciences_. + + +None that has liv'd Well, dies Ill. + +POMPILIUS, BRASSICANUS. + +_Po._ Where have you been, with your Spatter-Lashes? + +_Br._ At _Tubinga_. + +_Po._ Is there no News there? + +_Br._ I can't but admire, that the World should run so strangely a +gadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we should +have nothing to do with any Thing that is new. + +_Po._ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be a +Man,) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always to +feed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine. + +_Br._ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love old +Things so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh than +stale. + +_Po._ No more of the Camel; but prithee tell me, what News have you? + +_Br._ Nay, I have News in my Budget too; but News which he says is +naught. + +_Po._ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Things +be good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence, +that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and that +which is now bad, will in Time come to be good. + +_Br._ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; and +therefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool in +Time past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he is +grown old. + +Po. But prithee, let's have the News, be it what it will. + +_Br._ The famous triple-tongu'd Phoenix of Learning, _John Reuclin_, is +departed this Life. + +_Po._ For certain? + +_Br._ Nay, it is too certain. + +_Po._ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortal +Memory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of this +miserable World, into the Society of the Blessed? + +_Br._ How do you know that to be the Case? + +_Po._ It is plain, for he can't die otherwise, who has liv'd as he did. + +_Br._ You would say so, indeed, if you knew what I know. + +_Po._ What's that, I pray? + +_Br._ No, no, I must not tell you. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Br._ Because he that entrusted me with the Secret, made me promise +Silence. + +_Po._ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon my +honest Word, I'll keep Counsel. + +_Br._ That honest Word has often deceived me; but however, I'll venture; +especially, it being a Matter of that Kind, that it is fit all honest +Men should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Man +accounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own. + +_Po._ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of true +Piety. + +_Br._ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know the +Man. + +_Po._ What if I shall guess at him? + +_Br._ Do, if you will. + +_Po._ Hold your Ear then. + +_Br._ What needs that, when here's no Body within Hearing? + +_Po._ But however, for Fashion Sake. + +_Br._ 'Tis the very same. + +_Po._ He is a Man of undoubted Credit. If he says a Thing, it is to me, +as true as the Gospel. + +_Br._ Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked Truth of the Story. My +Friend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there was +some Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, be +sick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he might +ease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend was +sick, I was sick too, for I lov'd him as my own Father. + +_Po._ Phoo! There's no Body but lov'd him, except he were a very bad Man +indeed. + +_Br._ My Franciscan says to me, _Brassicanus_, leave off grieving, our +_Reuclin_ is well. What, said I, Is he well all on a sudden then? For +but two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, says +he, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don't +weep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before you +have heard the Matter out. I have not indeed seen the Man this six Days, +but I pray for him constantly every Day that goes over my Head. This +Morning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into a +gentle pleasant Slumber. + +_Po._ My Mind presages some joyful Thing. + +_Br._ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standing +by a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; the +emerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charming +Prospect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like little +Stars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all the +Fields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was divided +from the rest, seem'd neither to grow, nor to be green; but look'd dead, +blasted, and withered. And in the Interim, while I was wholly taken up +with the Prospect, _Reuclin_, as good Luck would have it, came by; and +as he past by, gave me his Blessing in _Hebrew_. He was gotten half Way +over the Bridge before I perceived him, and as I was about to run to +him, he look'd back, and bid me keep off. You must not come yet, says +he, but five Years hence, you shall follow me. In the mean Time, do you +stand by a Spectator, and a Witness of what is done. Here I put in a +Word, says I, was _Reuclin_ naked, or had he Cloaths on; was he alone, +or had he Company? He had, says he, but one Garment, and that was a very +white one; you would have said, it had been a Damask, of a wonderful +shining White, and a very pretty Boy with Wings followed him, which I +took to be his good Genius. + +_Po._ But had he no evil Genius with him? + +_Br._ Yes, the Franciscan told me he thought he had. For there followed +him a great Way off, some Birds, that were all over Black, except, that +when they spread their Wings, they seem'd to have Feathers, of a Mixture +of White and Carnation. He said, that by their Colour and Cry, one might +have taken them for Magpies, but that they were sixteen Times as big; +about the size of Vultures, having Combs upon their Heads, with crooked +Beaks and Gorbellies. If there had been but three of them, one would +have taken them for Harpyes. + +_Po._ And what did these Devils attempt to do? + +_Br._ They kept at a Distance, chattering and squalling at the Hero +_Reuclin_, and were ready to set upon him, if they durst. + +_Po._ What hindred them? + +_Br._ Turning upon them, and making the Sign of the Cross with his Hand +at them, he said, _Be gone, ye cursed Fiends to a Place that's fitter +for you. You have Work enough to do among Mortals, your Madness has no +Power over me, that am now lifted in the Roll of Immortality._ The +Words were no sooner out of his Mouth, says the Franciscan, but these +filthy Birds took their Flight, but left such a Stink behind them, that +a House of Office would have seem'd Oyl of sweet Marjoram, or Ointment +of Spikenard to it. He swore, he had rather go to Hell, than snuff up +such a Perfume again. + +_Po._ A Curse upon these Pests. + +_Br._ But, hear what the Franciscan told me besides: While I was intent +upon these Things, says he, St. _Jerome_ was come close to the Bridge, +and saluted _Reuclin_ in these Words, _God save thee, my most holy +Companion, I am ordered to conduct thee to the Mansions of the blessed +Souls above, which the divine Bounty has appointed thee as a Reward for +thy most pious Labours._ With that he took out a Garment, and put it +upon _Reuclin_. Then, said I, tell me in what Habit or Form St. _Jerome_ +appear'd, was he so old as they paint him? Did he wear a Cowl or a Hat, +or the Garb of a Cardinal? Or had he a Lion by his Side? Nothing of all +these, said he; but his Person was comely, which made his Age appear +such as carried in it much Comeliness, but no Deformity. What Need had +he to have a Lion by his Side, as he is commonly painted? His Gown came +down to his Heels, as transparent as Crystal, and of the same Fashion of +that he gave to _Reuclin_. It was all over painted with Tongues of three +several Colours; some imitated Rubies, some Emeralds, and others +Sapphires; and beside the Clearness of it, the Order set it off very +much. + +_Po._ An Intimation, I suppose, of the three Tongues that he profess'd. + +_Br._ Without doubt: For he said, that upon the very Borders of the +Garments were the Characters of these three Languages inscrib'd in their +different Colours. + +_Po._ Had _Jerome_ no Company with him? + +_Br._ No Company, do you say? The whole Field swarm'd with Myriads of +Angels, that fill'd the Air as thick, as those little Corpuscles they +call Atoms, fly in the Sun Beams; pardon the Meanness of the Comparison. +If they had not been as transparent as Glass, there would have been no +Heaven nor Earth to have been seen. + +_Po._ O brave, I am glad with all my Heart, for _Reuclin_'s, Sake; but +what follow'd? + +_Br. Jerome_, (says he) for Honour's Sake, giving _Reuclin_ the +Right-Hand, and embracing him, conducts him into the Meadow, and up a +Hill that was in the middle of it, where they kiss'd and embrac'd one +another again: In the mean Time, the Heavens open'd over their Heads to +a prodigious Wideness, and there appear'd a Glory so unutterable, as +made every Thing else, that pass'd for wonderful before, to look mean +and sordid. + +_Po._ Can't you give us some Representation of it? + +Br. No, how should I, that did not see it? He who did see it, says, that +he was not able to express the very Dream of it. He said, he would die a +thousand Deaths to see it over again, if it were but for one Moment. + +_Po._ How then? + +_Br._ Out of this Overture of the Heavens, there was let down a great +Pillar of Fire that was transparent, and of a very pleasant Form: By +this the two holy Souls were carried into Heaven, in one anothers +Embraces; a Choir of Angels all the While accompanying them, with so +charming a Melody, that the Franciscan says, he is never able to think +of the Delight of it without weeping. And after this there follow'd a +wonderful fragrant Smell. When he waked out of his Dream, if you will +call it a Dream, he was just like a mad Man. He would not believe he was +in his Cell; he called for his Bridge and his Meadow; he could not speak +or think of any Thing else but them. The Seniors of the Convent, when +they found the Story to be no Fable, for it is certain that _Reuclin_ +dy'd at the very Instant that the holy Man had this Vision, they +unanimously gave Thanks to God, that abundantly rewards good Men for +their good Deeds. + +_Po._ What have we to do, but to set down this holy Man's Name in the +Calendar of Saints? + +_Br._ I should have done that if the Franciscan had seen nothing at all +of this, and in Gold Letters too, I'll assure you, next to St. _Jerome_ +himself. + +_Po._ And let me die if I don't put him down in my Book so too. + +_Br._ And besides that, I'll set him in Gold in my little Chapel, among +the choicest of my Saints. + +_Po._ And if I had a Fortune to my Mind, I'd have him in Diamonds. + +_Br._ He shall stand in my Library, the very next to St. _Jerome_. + +_Po._ And I'll have him in mine too. + +_Br._ If they were grateful, every one who loves Learning and Languages, +especially, the holy Tongues, would do so too. + +_Po._ Truly it is no more than he deserves. But han't you some Scruple +upon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authority +of the Bishop of _Rome_? + +_Br._ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Who +canoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory is +most sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, and +the Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselves +to the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was sainted +by _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City? + +_Po._ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will of +Heaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are always +sensibly felt. + +_Br._ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be a +Blessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments of +his Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality. +He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing with +St. _Jerome_ himself. + +_Po._ But he suffer'd a great Deal tho' in his Life. + +_Br._ But yet St. _Jerome_ suffered more. It is a Blessing to be +persecuted by wicked Men for being good. + +_Po._ I confess so, and St. _Jerome_ suffer'd many unworthy Things from +the worst of Men, for the best of Deeds. + +_Br._ That which Satan did formerly by the Scribes and Pharisees against +the Lord Jesus, he continues still to do by Pharisaical Men, against +good Men, who have deserved well from the World by their Studies. He now +reaps the blessed Harvest of the Seed he has been sowing. In the mean +Time, it will be our Duty, to preserve his Memory sacred; to honour his +Name, and to address him often in some such Manner as follows. _O holy +Soul, be thou propitious to Languages, and to those that cultivate them: +Favour the holy Tongues, and destroy evil Tongues that are infected with +the Poison of Hell._ + +_Po._ I'll do't myself, and earnestly persuade all my Friends to do it. +I make no Question but there will be those that will desire to have some +little Form of Prayer, according to Custom, to celebrate the Memory of +this most holy Hero. + +_Br._ Do you mean that which they call a Collect? + +_Po._ Yes. + +_Br._ I have one ready, that I provided before his Death. + +_Po._ I pray let's hear it. + +_Br. O God, that art the Lover of Mankind, that hast by thy chosen +Servant_ John Reuclin, _renew'd to Mankind the Gift of Tongues, by which +thy holy Spirit from above, did formerly furnish thy Apostles for their +Preaching the Gospel; grant that all thy People may every where, in all +Languages, preach the Glory of thy Son Jesus Christ, to the confounding +of the Tongues of false Apostles; who being in a Confederacy to uphold +the impious Tower of_ Babel, _endeavour to obscure thy Glory, and to +advance their own, when to thee alone, together with thy only Son Jesus +Christ our Lord, and the holy Spirit, is due all Glory to eternal Ages._ +Amen. + +_Po._ A most elegant and holy Prayer. As I live, it shall be mine daily. +And I account this a happy Opportunity, that has brought me to the +Knowledge of so joyful a Story. + +_Br._ Mayst thou long enjoy that Comfort, and so farewell. + +_Po._ Fare you well too. + +_Br._ I will fare well, but not be a Cook. + + + + +_A LOVER and MAIDEN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with a very chaste Wooing, + mingling many philosophical Notions with pleasant Jokes. + Of not being hasty in marrying; of chusing, not only for + the Sake of the outward Person, but the inward Endowments + of the Mind; of the Firmness of Wedlock; of not + contracting Matrimony without the Consent of Parents; of + living chastly in Matrimony; of bringing up Children + piously; that the Soul is not where it animates, but + where it loves. The Description of a deformed Man. That + Wedlock is to be preferr'd before a single Life, and is + not, as it is vulgarly called, a Halter. That we must not + consult our Affections so much as Reason._ + + +PAMPHILUS _and_ MARY. + +_PA._ Good Morrow, Madam, cruel, hard Heart, inflexible. + +_Ma._ Good Morrow to you too, Mr. _Pamphilus_, as often, and as much, +and by what Names you please: But you seem to have forgotten my Name, +'tis _Mary_. + +_Pa._ It should rather have been _Martia_. + +_Ma._ Why so, pray, what is _Mars_ to me? + +_Pa._ Because just as _Mars_ makes a Sport of killing Men, so do you; +saving that you do it the more cruelly of the two, because you kill one +that loves you. + +_Ma._ Say you so! pray where's the great Slaughter of Men that I have +made? Where's the Blood of the Slain? + +_Pa._ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon +me. + +_Ma._ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish +I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are. + +_Pa._ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor +me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For +now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death. + +_Ma._ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the +Sight of thee? + +_Pa._ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost. + +_Ma._ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe +Cherry, or purple Grape. + +_Pa._ You coquet it with my Misery. + +_Ma._ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass. + +_Pa._ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a +better in the World than I am a looking in already. + +_Ma._ What Looking-Glass do you mean? + +_Pa._ Your Eyes. + +_Ma._ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be +dead? Do dead Folks eat? + +_Pa._ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do. + +_Ma._ What do they feed upon? + +_Pa._ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines. + +_Ma._ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges. + +_Pa._ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or +Vinegar. + +_Ma._ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that. +And do dead Folks talk too? + +_Pa._ Just as I do, with a weak Voice. + +_Ma._ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your +Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths, +and sleep? + +_Pa._ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner. + +_Ma._ Thou art a merry Fellow. + +_Pa._ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that +I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however. + +_Pa._ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is +only a Separation of Soul and Body. + +_Ma._ I grant it. + +_Pa._ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words. + +_Ma._ No, I will not. + +_Pa._ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away +another's Life, is a Murtherer. + +_Ma._ I grant that too. + +_Pa._ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the +greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it +animates, but where it loves. + +_Ma._ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then. + +_Pa._ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it. + +_Ma._ I am a Maid, not a Stone. + +_Pa._ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone. + +_Ma._ Go on with your Inferences. + +_Pa._ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell, +nor feel, if you kill them outright. + +_Ma._ Indeed I have heard so. + +_Pa._ What do you think is the Reason? + +_Ma._ Do you, Philosopher, tell that. + +_Pa._ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly +loves; and therefore is absent from the Body. + +_Ma._ Well, what then? + +_Pa._ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead, +and you have killed me. + +_Ma._ Where is your Soul then? + +_Pa._ Where it loves. + +_Ma._ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me +freely: There's no Hurt in it. + +_Pa._ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me +outright. + +_Ma._ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from +her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb. + +_Pa._ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that +Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine +has into hers. + +_Ma._ But may I play the Sophister with you now? + +_Pa._ The Sophistress. + +_Ma._ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead? + +_Pa._ Not at the same Time. + +_Ma._ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it? + +_Pa._ No, it does not. + +_Ma._ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves, +it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it +loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates? + +_Pa._ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there. +That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but +improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul; +just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone. + +_Ma._ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me +this Question, does not the Person that kills, act? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And does not he suffer who is kill'd? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and +she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill, +when he that loves, rather kills himself? + +_Pa._ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is +lov'd, that acts. + +_Ma._ You will never prove that by all your Grammar. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then. + +_Ma._ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love +voluntarily, or against your Will? + +_Pa._ Voluntarily. + +_Ma._ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he +that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid +wrongfully. + +_Pa._ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He +is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save. + +_Ma._ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose +with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to +save the Lover? + +_Pa._ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to +love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be +a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me? + +_Pa._ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog +or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead. + +_Ma._ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men? + +_Pa._ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes. + +_Ma._ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then. + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me. + +_Ma._ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw +others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe +the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine. + +_Pa._ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must +insult him too. + +_Ma._ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral? + +_Pa._ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me. + +_Ma._ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure? + +_Pa._ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease +imaginable. + +_Ma._ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir. + +_Pa._ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's +easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the +World get clear of the Crime of Murther. + +_Ma._ In what Court must I be try'd? In the Court of Chancery? + +_Pa._ No, in the Court of _Venus_. + +_Ma._ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess. + +_Pa._ Nay, the most severe in the World. + +_Ma._ Has she any Thunderbolts? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Trident? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Spear? + +_Pa._ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea. + +_Ma._ But I don't go to Sea. + +_Pa._ But she has a Son. + +_Ma._ Youth is not very formidable. + +_Pa._ But he is very revengeful and resolute. + +_Ma._ What will he do to me? + +_Pa._ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish +so well to. God forbid I should. + +_Ma._ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am +no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by +his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall +deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you +again. + +_Ma._ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a +thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one +that won't love me neither. + +_Pa._ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain +Maid. + +_Ma._ Where did she live? + +_Pa._ At _Orleans_. + +_Ma._ How many Years ago was it? + +_Pa._ How many Years! not ten Months. + +_Ma._ What was her Name? What do you stick at? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you. + +_Ma._ Why don't you tell me her Name then? + +_Pa._ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some +other Name. She was your own Namesake. + +_Ma._ Who was her Father? + +_Pa._ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a +rich Man. + +_Ma._ Tell me his Name. + +_Pa. Mauritius._ + +_Ma._ His Sirname. + +_Pa. Aglaius._ + +_Ma._ Is her Mother alive? + +_Pa._ No, she died lately. + +_Ma._ What did she die of, say you? + +_Pa._ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life +too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution. + +_Ma._ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name. + +_Pa._ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by +that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye? + +_Ma._ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for +that. But tell me what became of the Maid? + +_Pa._ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a +good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a +Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her. + +_Ma._ What was his Name? + +_Pa._ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_ +as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good +Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with +Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape +than a Man. + +_Ma._ How! + +_Pa._ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it. + +_Ma._ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow? + +_Pa._ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd, +snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded, +hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow. + +_Ma._ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_. + +_Pa._ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither. + +_Ma._ It may be he had lost the other in the War. + +_Pa._ No, he lost it in Peace. + +_Ma._ Who dar'd to cut it off? + +_Pa. Jack Ketch._ + +_Ma._ It may be his Riches made Amends. + +_Pa._ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming +Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain. + +_Ma._ That is a miserable Story indeed. + +_Pa._ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for +slighting the young Gentleman. + +_Ma._ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure +such a Husband. + +_Pa._ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you. + +_Ma._ Well, if that will do, I do love you again. + +_Pa._ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a +Wife, not a Mistress. + +_Ma._ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which +being once done, can never be undone again. + +_Pa._ I have been deliberating too long already. + +_Ma._ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon +you, for they say he is blind. + +_Pa._ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment; +you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really +so, and therefore I love you. + +_Ma._ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on, +then you'll know where it pinches. + +_Pa._ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will +be happy for me. + +_Ma._ What, are you an Augur then? + +_Pa._ Yes, I am. + +_Ma._ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath +the Night Owl appear'd luckily? + +_Pa._ She flies for Fools. + +_Ma._ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand? + +_Pa._ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the +Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad +Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been +brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly +educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good +Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours +and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have +known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and +besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age, +Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that +which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very +well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in +themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may +be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me +prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy, +lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a +Denial. + +_Ma._ What would you have me say? + +_Pa._ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_ +after me. + +_Ma._ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus. + +_Pa._ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one. + +_Ma._ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you +should repent of when done. + +_Pa._ Leave off teasing me. + +_Ma._ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or +Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty. + +_Pa._ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I +don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your +Guest within it I am most in Love with. + +_Ma._ What Guest do you mean? + +_Pa._ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase. + +_Ma._ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that +through so many Coverings. + +_Pa._ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then +besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children. + +_Ma._ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead. + +_Pa._ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard, +would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees; +or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the +Boughs laden with ripe Apples? + +_Ma._ Oh, how cunningly you can argue! + +_Pa._ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine +lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an +Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour? + +_Ma._ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most +pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and +withering in the Hand? + +_Pa._ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there +delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the +Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the +most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is +to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon +as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage +look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the +Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have +brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom. + +_Ma._ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing. + +_Pa._ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous +than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should +never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren +Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us. + +_Ma._ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God. + +_Pa._ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live +chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies. +We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will +the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live +together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to +be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once. + +_Ma._ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be +learned? + +_Pa._ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn +to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he +that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them, +or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance? + +_Ma._ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty +can't debauch. + +_Pa._ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates +himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery? + +_Ma._ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman. + +_Pa._ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure +Matrimony? + +_Ma._ I think they do. + +_Pa._ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition. + +_Ma._ Is it not? + +_Pa._ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it +were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault +not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it. + +_Ma._ When does this Case happen? + +_Pa._ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially +if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation. + +_Ma._ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him? + +_Pa._ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but +if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few +Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account. + +_Ma._ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing. + +_Pa._ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and +you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our +Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage? + +_Ma._ Marriage is called a Halter. + +_Pa._ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your +Soul and Body bound together? + +_Ma._ Yes, I think they are. + +_Pa._ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed +from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that? +Because it is bound by its own Consent. + +_Ma._ But we have neither of us got much of Portion. + +_Pa._ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good +Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great +Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry. + +_Ma._ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them. + +_Pa._ Have done with Scruples. + +_Ma._ Would you have me marry a dead Man? + +_Pa._ No, but I shall come to Life again then. + +_Ma._ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell. + +_Pa._ Do you take Care of that. + +_Ma._ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh? + +_Pa._ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me. + +_Ma._ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty. + +_Pa._ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me? + +_Ma._ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart. + +_Pa._ But give me a Kiss too. + +_Ma._ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and +untouch'd. + +_Pa._ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity? + +_Ma._ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks? + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself. + +_Ma._ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I +dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present. + +_Pa._ What is that? + +_Ma._ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that +there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little +that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should +be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do +you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in +the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good. + + + + +_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She + is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her + Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her + Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may + be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living + in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He + abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids + into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no + other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits + are as it were buried alive._ + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eub._ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we +may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion +in the World. + +_Ca._ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table. + +_Eu._ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely +this is its Youth. + +_Ca._ Ay, so it is. + +_Eu._ But why is it not Spring with you too? + +_Ca._ What do you mean? + +_Eu._ Because you look a little dull. + +_Ca._ Why, don't I look as I use to do? + +_Eu._ Shall I show you how you look? + +_Ca._ With all my Heart. + +_Eu._ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night? + +_Ca._ Yes, I do see it: And what then? + +_Eu._ Why, just so you look. + +_Ca._ A very fine Comparison. + +_Eu._ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here. +What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so? + +_Ca._ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you. + +_Eu._ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful +myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep +one too! + +_Ca._ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not +tell it. + +_Eu._ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my +own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you +are safe. + +_Ca._ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the +better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good. + +_Eu._ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself, +perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation. + +_Ca._ I can't speak it out. + +_Eu._ What is the Matter? Do you hate me? + +_Ca._ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that +my Heart won't let me divulge it. + +_Eu._ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me +your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out. + +_Ca._ Well then, I do give you my Word. + +_Eu._ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want +of being compleatly happy. + +_Ca._ I would I were so. + +_Eu._ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you +are now in your seventeenth Year. + +_Ca._ That's true. + +_Eu._ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of +your Trouble. + +_Ca._ Nothing less, I assure you. + +_Eu._ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of +God. + +_Ca._ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain. + +_Eu._ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you +to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper. + +_Ca._ Nothing of that, I thank God. + +_Eu._ And besides, your Credit is fair. + +_Ca._ I trust it is. + +_Eu._ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the +Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in +order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences. + +_Ca._ If I have, I thank God for it. + +_Eu._ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met +with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither. + +_Ca._ I wish they were such as they should be. + +_Eu._ Some People are uneasy at the Meanness of their Extraction, but +your Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentiful +Fortunes, and very kind to you. + +_Ca._ I have nothing to complain of upon that Account. + +_Eu._ What Need of many Words? Of all the young Women in the Country you +are the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition to +pretend to't. + +_Ca._ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'd +to marry. + +_Eu._ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mind +so. + +_Ca._ It is no light Matter, you may depend upon it. + +_Eu._ You won't take it ill I hope if I guess at it. + +_Ca._ I have promis'd you I won't. + +_Eu._ I know by Experience what a Torment Love is. Come, confess now, is +that it? You promis'd to tell me. + +_Ca._ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that you +imagine. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Love is it that you mean? + +_Ca._ Guess. + +_Eu._ I have guess'd all the Guesses I can guess; but I'm resolv'd I'll +never let go this Hand till I have gotten it out of you. + +_Ca._ How violent you are. + +_Eu._ Whatever your Care is, repose it in my Breast. + +_Ca._ Since you are so urgent, I will tell you. From my very Infancy I +have had a very strong Inclination. + +_Eu._ To what, I beseech you? + +_Ca._ To put myself into a Cloyster. + +_Eu._ What, to be a Nun? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ Ho! I find I was out in my Notion; to leave a Shoulder of Mutton +for a Sheep's Head. + +_Ca._ What's that you say, _Eubulus_? + +_Eu._ Nothing, my Dear, I did but cough. But, go on, tell me it out. + +_Ca._ This was my Inclination; but my Parents were violently set against +it. + +_Eu._ I hear ye. + +_Ca._ On the other Hand, I strove by Intreaties, fair Words, and Tears, +to overcome that pious Aversion of my Parents. + +_Eu._ O strange! + +_Ca._ At Length when they saw I persisted in Intreaties, Prayers, and +Tears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I was +seventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Time +is now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from their +Words. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you my +Distemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can. + +_Eu._ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you to +moderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all that +you can. + +_Ca._ It will certainly be the Death of me, if I han't my Desire. + +_Eu._ What was it that gave the first Rise to this fatal Resolution? + +_Ca._ Formerly, when I was a little Girl, they carried me into one of +those Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me the +whole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd so +charming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smelt +so sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in short +which Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And then +I had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or three +that had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had a +strange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since. + +_Eu._ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the same +Thing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, as +far as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should rather +advise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your own +House, of which he should be the Abbot and you the Abbess. + +_Ca._ I will rather die than quit my Resolution of Virginity. + +_Eu._ Nay, it is indeed an admirable Thing to be a pure Virgin, but you +may keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, from +which you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home with +your Parents. + +_Ca._ Yes, I may, but it is not so safe there. + +_Eu._ Much safer truly in my Judgment there, than with those brawny, +swill-belly'd Monks. They are no Capons, I'll assure you, whatever you +may think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make good +their Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no where +honester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Father +they had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thou +made Choice of among 'em all, to be a Slave in? + +_Ca._ The _Chrysertian_. + +_Eu._ Oh! I know it, it is a little Way from your Father's House. + +_Ca._ You're right. + +_Eu._ I am very well acquainted with the whole Gang. A sweet Fellowship +to renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For the +Patriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain natural +Drowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish any +Thing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, that +match him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an ill +Man, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not a +Grain of Learning in him, and not much more common Prudence. And +_Jodocus_ he's so arrant a Sot, that if he were not ty'd up to the Habit +of his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears and +Bells at it. + +_Ca._ Truly they seem to me to be very good Men. + +_Eu._ But, my _Kitty_, I know 'em better than you do. They will do good +Offices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain a +Proselyte. + +_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me. + +_Eu._ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men to +Day, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them be +what they will then, you must bear with them. + +_Ca._ I am troubled to see so many Entertainments at my Father's House, +and marry'd Folks are so given to talk smutty; I'm put to't sometimes +when Men come to kiss me, and you know one can't well deny a Kiss. + +_Eu._ He that would avoid every Thing that offends him, must go out of +the World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but let +nothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allow +you a Chamber to yourself. + +_Ca._ Yes, they do. + +_Eu._ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company grow +troublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertain +yourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks: +Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the more +pure. + +_Ca._ But it is a great Deal safer to be in Virgins Company. + +_Eu._ I do not disapprove of a chaste Society: Yet I would not have you +delude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to be +throughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Things +won't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not all +Virgins that wear Vails; believe me. + +_Ca._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Eu._ Those are good Words that are true Words. I never read of but one +Virgin that was a Mother, _i.e._ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy we +appropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'd +Virgins after Childbearing. + +_Ca._ I abhor the Thoughts on't. + +_Eu._ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do more +than becomes Maids to do. + +_Ca._ Ay! why so, pray? + +_Eu._ Because there are more among 'em that imitate _Sappho_ in Manners, +than are like her in Wit. + +_Ca._ I don't very well understand you. + +_Eu._ My dear _Kitty_, I therefore speak in Cypher that you may not +understand me. + +_Ca._ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have a +strong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hath +continu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger and +stronger. + +_Eu._ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes me +suspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined your +Parents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affection +from the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles of +the Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, the +external Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of the +senseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they may +tipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful, +and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they know +he'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or else +they'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing without +your Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God would +have inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were a +religious Matter. + +_Ca._ In this Matter it is Piety to contemn Father and Mother. + +_Eu._ It is, I grant, sometimes a Piece of Piety to contemn Father or +Mother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not act +piously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who had +nothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, and +leave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ by +Baptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you would +indeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; or +if your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalous +Thing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what is +this to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have the +Dictates of Nature, the Approbation of Heaven, the Exhortation of St. +_Paul_, and the Obligation of human Laws, for your Obedience to Parents; +and will you now withdraw yourself from under the Authority of good and +natural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father, +rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of your +true Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents? +For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you be +at Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd +[_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition of +Servants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarily +a Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measure +cast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscure +Foot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out under +pretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed in +many Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then all +that you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of the +Door, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'd +her Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they change +the Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves in +old Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name that +was given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or +_Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, and +being to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If a +military Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he not +look'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him that +takes upon him a Habit that Christ the Master of us all never gave him? +He is punish'd more severely for the changing it again, than if he had a +hundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which is +the Innocency of his Mind. + +_Ca._ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into this +voluntary Confinement. + +_Eu._ That is a pharisaical Doctrine. St. _Paul_ teacheth us otherwise, +_and will not have him that is called free, make himself a Servant, but +rather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitude +the worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonly +Fools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, being +every now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, do +any Laws discharge you from your Duty to your Parents? + +_Ca._ No. + +_Eu._ Can you buy or sell an Estate against your Parents Consent? + +_Ca._ No, I can't. + +_Eu._ What Right have you then to give away yourself to I know not whom, +against your Parents Consent? Are you not their Child, the dearest and +most appropriate Part of their Possession? + +_Ca._ In the Business of Religion, the Laws of Nature give Place. + +_Eu._ The great Point of our Religion lies in our Baptism: But the +Matter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such a +Course of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And now +consider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose, +together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, or +sing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as you +please. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hear +Anthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virgin +remarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see any +Man that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn what +will make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and you +may chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you +come into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatest +Assistances in the Promotion of true Piety, you lose at once. + +_Ca._ But in the mean Time I shall not be a Nun. + +_Eu._ What signifies the Name? Consider the Thing itself. They make +their boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in being +obedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God has +commanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, when +all is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times were +in an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberality +towards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they had +possessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for living +with your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? A +Vail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, which +of themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make no +Body more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purity +of the Mind. + +_Ca._ This is News to me. + +_Eu._ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from the +Government of your Parents, can't dispose of, or sell so much as a Rag, +or an Inch of Ground, what Right can you pretend to for disposing of +yourself into the Service of a Stranger? + +_Ca._ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child +from entering into a religious Life. + +_Eu._ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of +Christ? + +_Ca._ They are so. + +_Eu._ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the +Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the +Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that +never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their +Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a +Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and +against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase +it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither +according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine +of _Christ_ or his Apostles. + +_Ca._ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without +my Parents Consent? + +_Eu._ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is +the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only +about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is +to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to +it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else. + +_Ca._ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest +Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents. + +_Eu._ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the +holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this, +bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they +can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents +to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it +too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I +pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to +Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents, +as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself. + +_Ca._ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life? + +_Eu._ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it, +that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of +it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially +those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly +into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the +rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out +of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at +Home. + +_Ca._ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet +this Affection of mine can't be removed. + +_Eu._ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could, +however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand. +In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations +may succeed better than my Counsel. + + + + +_The PENITENT VIRGIN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself, + goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the + Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten + unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd + Apparitions and Visions_. + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eu._ I could always wish to have such a Porter. + +_Ca._ And I to have such Visitors. + +_Eu._ But fare you well, _Kitty_. + +_Ca._ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute? + +_Eu._ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as +soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes? + +_Ca._ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better +Looks, and we'll be merry together. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Cattle have we got here? + +_Ca._ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had +their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is +gone, we will discourse as we use to do. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you +would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I +would fain have it from your Mouth. + +_Ca._ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to +be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than +you, that are the youngest of 'em all. + +_Eu._ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last? + +_Ca._ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and +then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought +over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by +several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like +one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in +their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let +Christ have his Spouse. + +_Eu._ O the Villany of Fools! But what then? + +_Ca._ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time +there were always with me some Women of the College that they call +_Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution, +and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come +at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making +ready, and the Provision for the Feast. + +_Eu._ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet? + +_Ca._ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had +rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again. + +_Eu._ What was that, pray? + +_Ca._ It is not to be uttered. + +_Eu._ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend. + +_Ca._ Will you keep Counsel? + +_Eu._ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better +than to doubt of it. + +_Ca._ I had a most dreadful Apparition. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this. + +_Ca._ I am fully persuaded it was an evil Spirit. + +_Eu._ Tell me what Shape it was in. Was it such as we use to paint with +a crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail? + +_Ca._ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, than +see such another. + +_Eu._ And were your Women Sollicitresses with you then? + +_Ca._ No, nor I would not so much as open my Lips of it to them, though +they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost +dead with the Surprise. + +_Eu._ Shall I tell you what it was? + +_Ca._ Do if you can. + +_Eu._ Those Women had certainly bewitch'd you, or conjur'd your Brain +out of your Head rather. But did you persist in your Resolution still, +for all this? + +_Ca._ Yes, for they told me, that many were thus troubled upon their +first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of +the Devil that Bout, he'd let them alone for ever after. + +_Eu._ Well, what Pomp were you carried out with? + +_Ca._ They put on all my Finery, let down my Hair, and dress'd me just +as if it had been for my Wedding. + +_Eu._ To a fat Monk, perhaps; Hem! a Mischief take this Cough. + +_Ca._ I was carried from my Father's House to the College by broad +Day-Light, and a World of People staring at me. + +_Eu._ O these Scaramouches, how they know to wheedle the poor People! +How many Days did you continue in that holy College of Virgins, +forsooth? + +_Ca._ Till Part of the twelfth Day. + +_Eu._ But what was it that changed your Mind, that had been so +resolutely bent upon it? + +_Ca._ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something very +considerable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; I +begged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out of +the College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to my +Resolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, telling +me, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make me +master mine, and not disgrace him, by starting from my Purpose. At last, +when I saw that I could do no good with them this Way, I told my Father +and Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and that +would certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that very +quickly too; and upon this, they took me Home. + +_Eu._ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'd +yourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changed +your Mind so suddenly. + +_Ca._ I never told any Mortal yet, nor shall. + +_Eu._ What if I should guess? + +_Ca._ I'm sure you can't guess it; and if you do, I won't tell you. + +_Eu._ Well, for all that, I guess what it was. But in the mean Time, you +have been at a great Charge. + +_Ca._ Above 400 Crowns. + +_Eu._ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money is +gone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counsel +when it is given you. + +_Ca._ So I will. _The burnt Child dreads the Fire._ + + + + +_The UNEASY WIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy, entitled_, The uneasy Wife: _Or_, Uxor + [Greek: Mempsigamos], _treats of many Things that relate + to the mutual Nourishment of conjugal Affection. + Concerning the concealing a Husband's Faults; of not + interrupting conjugal Benevolence; of making up + Differences; of mending a Husband's Manners; of a Woman's + Condescension to her Husband. What is the Beauty of a + Woman; she disgraces herself, that disgraces her Husband; + that the Wife ought to submit to the Husband; that the + Husband ought not to be out of Humour when the Wife is; + and on the Contrary; that they ought to study mutual + Concord, since there is no Room for Advice; that they + ought to conceal one another's Faults, and not expose one + another; that it is in the Power of the Wife to mend her + Husband; that she ought to carry herself engagingly, + learn his Humour, what provokes him or appeases him; that + all Things be in Order at Home; that he have what he + likes best to eat; that if the Husband be vext, the Wife + don't laugh; if he be angry, that she should speak + pleasantly to him, or hold her Tongue; that what she + blames him for, should be betwixt themselves; the Method + of admonishing; that she ought to make her Complaint to + no Body but her Husband's Parents; or to some peculiar + Friends that have an Influence upon him. The Example of a + prudent Man, excellently managing a young morose Wife, by + making his Complaint to her Father. Another of a prudent + Wife, that by her good Carriage reformed a Husband that + frequented leud Company, Another of a Man that had beaten + his Wife in his angry Fit; that Husbands are to be + overcome, brought into Temper by Mildness, Sweetness, and + Kindness; that there should be no Contention in the + Chamber or in the Bed; but that Care should be taken, + that nothing but Pleasantness and Engagingness be there. + The Girdle of_ Venus _is Agreeableness of Manners. + Children make a mutual Amity. That a Woman separated from + her Husband, is nothing: Let her always be mindful of the + Respect that is due to a Husband._ + + +EULALIA, XANTIPPE. + +_EU._ Most welcome _Xantippe_, a good Morning to you. + +_Xa._ I wish you the same, my dear _Eulalia_. Methinks you look prettier +than you use to do. + +_Eu._ What, do you begin to banter me already? + +_Xa._ No, upon my Word, for you seem so to me. + +_Eu._ Perhaps then my new Cloaths may set me off to Advantage. + +_Xa._ You guess right, it is one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld in +all my Life. It is _English_ Cloth, I suppose. + +_Eu._ It is indeed of _English_ Wool, but it is a _Venetian_ Dye. + +_Xa._ It is as soft as Silk, and 'tis a charming Purple. Who gave you +this fine Present? + +_Eu._ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents but +from him? + +_Xa._ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a good +Husband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I was +married to my _Nick_. + +_Eu._ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between you +already? + +_Xa._ There is no Possibility of agreeing with such a one as I have got. +You see what a ragged Condition I am in; so he lets me go like a Dowdy! +May I never stir, if I an't asham'd to go out of Doors any whither, when +I see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so rich +as mine is. + +_Eu._ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or other +Deckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard that +lately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and the +Ornaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of many +but we are well enough drest, if we do but please our own Husbands. + +_Xa._ But mean while this worthy Tool of mine, that is so sparing toward +his Wife, lavishly squanders away the Portion I brought along with me, +which by the Way was not a mean one. + +_Eu._ In what? + +_Xa._ Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes at the Tavern, sometimes upon +his Whores, sometimes a gaming. + +_Eu._ O fie, you should never say so of your Husband. + +_Xa._ But I'm sure 'tis too true; and then when he comes Home, after I +have been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunk +as _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by my +Side, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more. + +_Eu._ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing your +Husband. + +_Xa._ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such a +Husband as I have got. + +_Eu._ Don't you scold at him then? + +_Xa._ Yes, indeed, I use him as he deserves. He finds I have got a +Tongue in my Head. + +_Eu._ Well, and what does he say to you again? + +_Xa._ At first he used to hector at me lustily, thinking to fright me +with his big Words. + +_Eu._ Well, and did your Words never come to downright Blows? + +_Xa._ Once, and but once, and then the Quarrel rose to that Height on +both Sides, that we were within an Ace of going to Fisty-Cuffs. + +_Eu._ How, Woman! say you so? + +_Xa._ He held up his Stick at me, swearing and cursing like a +Foot-Soldier, and threatening me dreadfully. + +_Eu._ Were not you afraid then? + +_Xa._ Nay, I snatch'd up a three legg'd Stool, and if he had but touch'd +me with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman of +Spirit. + +_Eu._ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming. + +_Xa._ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use him +like a Husband. + +_Eu._ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to their +own Husbands with all Reverence. And St. _Peter_ proposes the Example of +_Sarah_ to us, who call'd her Husband _Abraham_ Lord. + +_Xa._ I have heard those Things, but the same _Paul_ likewise teaches +that _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse the +Church_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine. + +_Eu._ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one must +submit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to her +Husband. + +_Xa._ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me like +a Kitchen Wench. + +_Eu._ But tell me, _Xantippe_, did he leave off threatening after this? + +_Xa._ He did leave off, and it was his Wisdom so to do, or else he would +have been thresh'd. + +_Eu._ But did not you leave off Scolding at him? + +_Xa._ No, nor never will. + +_Eu._ But what does he do in the mean Time? + +_Xa._ What! Why sometimes he pretends himself to be fast asleep, and +sometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes he +catches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it with +all his Might, and drowns the Noise of my Bawling. + +_Eu._ And does not that vex you to the Heart? + +_Xa._ Ay, so that it is impossible to be express'd, so that sometimes I +can scarce keep my Hands off of him. + +_Eu._ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely with +you. + +_Xa._ I do give you Leave. + +_Eu._ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, which +has been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this. + +_Xa._ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I more +dearly lov'd than you. + +_Eu._ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, That +there is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy for +irreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: He +must be your Husband and you his Wife to the very last Day of Life. + +_Xa._ The Gods did very wrong that depriv'd us of this Privilege. + +_Eu._ Have a Care what you say. It was the Will of Christ. + +_Xa._ I can scarce believe it. + +_Eu._ It is as I tell you. Now you have nothing left to do but to study +to suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agree +together. + +_Xa._ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him? + +_Eu._ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbands +shall be. + +_Xa._ Do you and your Husband agree very well together? + +_Eu._ All is quiet with us now. + +_Xa._ Well then, you had some Difference at first. + +_Eu._ Never any Thing of a Storm; but yet, as it is common with human +Kind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'd +a Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one has +his Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speak +the Truth, every one his Faults, more or less, which if in any State, +certainly in Matrimony we ought to connive at, and not to hate. + +_Xa._ You speak very right. + +_Eu._ It frequently happens that that mutual Love that ought to be +between the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughly +acquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to be +provided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, it +is a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially if +it ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. Those +Things that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one from +another if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once they +have been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothing +more firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken that +good Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in the +Infancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness, +and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only upon +Beauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd. + +_Xa._ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to your +Humour. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you for this End, that you may copy after me. + +_Xa._ Well, I will, if I can. + +_Eu._ It will be very easy to do, if you will; nor is it too late yet; +for he is in the Flower of his Youth, and you are but a Girl; and as I +take it, have not been married this Twelve Months yet. + +_Xa._ You are very right. + +_Eu._ Then I'll tell you; but upon Condition, that you'll not speak of +it. + +_Xa._ Well, I will not. + +_Eu._ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in every +Respect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed his +Inclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiest +Moments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to do +who tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can't +be master'd by downright Strength. + +_Xa._ And such an Animal have I at Home. + +_Eu._ Those that go near Elephants, wear no Garment that is white; nor +those who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, that +these Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers are +made so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their own +selves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and +Stroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: How +much more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, with +whom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed and +Board? + +_Xa._ Well, go on with what you have begun. + +_Eu._ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, taking +Care that nothing should offend him. + +_Xa._ How could you do that? + +_Eu._ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is the +peculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that every +Thing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the most +minute Things. + +_Xa._ What Things? + +_Eu._ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, or +liked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made after +such or such a Manner. + +_Xa._ But how could you humour one who was never at Home, or was drunk? + +_Eu._ Have Patience, I was coming to that Point. If at any Time my +Husband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, I +did not laugh, and put on a gay Humour, as some Women are us'd to do; +but I put on a grave demure Countenance, as well as he. For as a +Looking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Person +that looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper of +her Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry when +he is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I either +endeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till his +Passion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered, +either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the same +Method, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time never +gave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, I +might get him to go to Bed. + +_Xa._ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must only +humour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thing +that they have a Mind to do. + +_Eu._ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands are +not forc'd to bear with many of our Humours: However, there is a Time, +when a Wife may take the Freedom in a Matter of some Importance to +advise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink at +them. + +_Xa._ But what Time is that? + +_Eu._ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor in +the Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advise +him, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this or +that Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. And +this very Advice is to be season'd with witty Jests and Pleasantries. +Sometimes by Way of Preface, I make a Bargain with him before-Hand, that +he shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me +to advise him in any Thing, that might seem to concern his Honour, +Health, or Preservation. When I have said what I had a Mind to say, I +break off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertaining +Subject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that when +once we have begun, we don't know when to make an End. + +_Xa._ Why, so they say, indeed. + +_Eu._ This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband +before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes +between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken +Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born +with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife, +it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's +Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint, +that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And +not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love +his Wife for her Civility. + +_Xa._ A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this. + +_Eu._ By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility. + +_Xa._ But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by +the utmost good Carriage. + +_Eu._ In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First, +consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he +will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little +better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him +grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of +Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses +much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands +after this Manner? + +_Xa._ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my +Husband, as black is from white. + +_Eu._ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble +Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a +young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated +all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love +to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a +Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily +form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in +Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of +Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which +would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to +the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip +and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to +submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd +her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw +herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as +tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this, +conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with +him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a +little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When +they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters, +and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside +privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes +to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that +was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any +Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his +Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once +put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might +use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law +replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be +reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities. +The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a +Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone +with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her +how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how +often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a +Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the +best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being +sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a +Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would +scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you +are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so +hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands +off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any +Part, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, and +partly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at her +Father's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time to +come, she would be mindful of her Duty. Her Father freely forgave her, +and also promised, that he would be to her a very indulgent Father, +provided she perform'd what she promis'd. + +_Xa._ Well, what happened after that? + +_Eu._ The young Lady going away, after her Fathers Discourse was ended, +went directly into her Chamber, and finding her Husband alone, she fell +down on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neither +knew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find me +another Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. The +Husband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thing +she could desire, if she did but continue in that Resolution. + +_Xa._ What! Did she continue in it? + +_Eu._ Even to her dying Day; nor was any Thing so mean, but she readily +and chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So great +a Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the young +Lady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marry +such a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the most +wretched Woman alive. + +_Xa._ Such Husbands are as scarce now a Days as white Crows. + +_Eu._ Now if it will not be tedious to you, I'll tell you a Story, that +lately happen'd in this City, of a Husband that was reclaimed by the +good Management of his Wife. + +_Xa._ I have nothing to do at present, and your Conversation is very +diverting. + +_Eu._ There is a certain Gentleman of no mean Descent; he, like the rest +of his Quality, used often to go a Hunting: Being in the Country, he +happen'd to see a young Damsel, the Daughter of a poor old Woman, and +began to fall desperately in love with her. He was a Man pretty well in +Years; and for the Sake of this young Maid, he often lay out a Nights, +and his Pretence for it was Hunting. His Wife, a Woman of an admirable +Temper, suspecting something more than ordinary, went in search to find +out her Husband's Intrigues, and having discover'd them, by I can't tell +what Method, she goes to the Country Cottage, and learnt all the +Particulars where he lay, what he drank, and what Manner of +Entertainment he had at Table. There was no Furniture in the House, +nothing but naked Walls. The Gentlewoman goes Home, and quickly after +goes back again, carrying with her a handsome Bed and Furniture, some +Plate and Money, bidding them to treat him with more Respect, if at any +Time he came there again. A few Days after, her Husband steals an +Opportunity to go thither, and sees the Furniture increas'd, and finds +his Entertainment more delicate than it us'd to be; he enquir'd from +whence this unaccustomed Finery came: They said, that a certain honest +Gentlewoman of his Acquaintance, brought these Things; and gave them in +Charge, that he should be treated with more Respect for the future. He +presently suspected that this was done by his Wife. When he came Home, +he ask'd her if she had been there. She did not deny it. Then he ask'd +her for what Reason she had sent thither that household Furniture? My +Dear, says she, you are us'd to a handsomer Way of Living: I found that +you far'd hardly there, I thought it my Duty, since you took a Fancy to +the Place, that your Reception should be more agreeable. + +_Xa._ A Wife good even to an Excess. I should sooner have sent him a +Bundle of Nettles and Thorns, than furnish'd him with a fine Bed. + +_Eu._ But hear the Conclusion of my Story; the Gentleman was so touch'd, +seeing so much good Nature and Temper in his Wife, that he never after +that violated her Bed, but solaced himself with her at Home. I know you +know _Gilbert_ the _Dutchman_. + +_Xa._ I know him. + +_Eu._ He, you know, in the prime of his Age, marry'd a Gentlewoman well +stricken in Years, and in a declining Age. + +_Xa._ It may be he marry'd the Portion, and not the Woman. + +_Eu._ So it was. He having an Aversion to his Wife, was over Head and +Ears in Love with a young Woman, with whom he us'd ever and anon to +divert himself abroad. He very seldom either din'd or supp'd at home. +What would you have done, if this had been your Case, _Xantippe_? + +_Xa._ Why I would have torn his beloved Strumpet's Headcloths off, and I +would have wash'd him well with a Chamber-Pot, when he was going to her, +that he might have gone thus perfum'd to his Entertainment. + +_Eu._ But how much more prudently did this Gentlewoman behave herself. +She invited his Mistress home to her House, and treated her with all the +Civility imaginable. So she kept her Husband without any magical Charms. +And if at any Time he supp'd abroad with her, she sent them thither some +Nicety or other, desiring them to be merry together. + +_Xa._ As for me, I would sooner chuse to lose my Life than to be Bawd to +my own Husband. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time, pray consider the Matter soberly and coolly. +Was not this much better, than if she had by her ill Temper totally +alienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole Life in +quarrelling and brawling. + +_Xa._ I believe, that of two Evils it was the least, but I could never +have submitted to it. + +_Eu._ I will add one more, and then I'll have done with Examples. A +next Door Neighbour of ours is a very honest, good Man, but a little too +subject to Passion. One Day he beat his Wife, a Woman of commendable +Prudence. She immediately withdrew into a private Room, and there gave +Vent to her Grief by Tears and Sighs. Soon after upon some Occasion her +Husband came into the Room, and found his Wife all in Tears. What's the +Matter, says he, that you're crying and sobbing like a Child? To which +she prudently reply'd, Why, says she, is it not much better to lament my +Misfortune here, than if I should make a Bawling in the Street, as other +Women do? The Man's Mind was so overcome and mollified by this Answer, +so like a Wife, that giving her his Hand, he made a solemn Promise to +his Wife, he would never lay his Hand upon her after, as long as he +liv'd. Nor did he ever do it. + +_Xa._ I have obtain'd as much from my Husband, but by a different +Conduct. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time there are perpetual Wars between you. + +_Xa._ What then would you have me to do? + +_Eu._ If your Husband offers you any Affront, you must take no Notice of +it, but endeavour to gain his good Will by all good Offices, courteous +Carriage, and Meekness of Spirit, and by these Methods, you will in +Time, either wholly reclaim him, or at least you will live with him much +more easy than now you do. + +_Xa._ Ay, but he's too ill-natur'd to be wrought upon by all the kind +Offices in the World. + +_Eu._ Hold, don't say so, there is no Beast that is so savage but he may +be tam'd by good Management; therefore don't despair of it as to a Man. +Do but make the Experiment for a few Months, and if you do not find that +this Advice has been of Benefit to you, blame me. And there are also +some Faults that you must wink at; but above all Things, it is my +Opinion, you ought to avoid ever to begin any Quarrel either in the +Bed-Chamber, or in Bed, and to take a special Care that every Thing +there be chearful and pleasant. For if that Place which is consecrated +for the wiping out old Miscarriages and the cementing of Love, comes to +be unhallowed by Contention and Sourness of Temper, all Remedy for the +Reconcilement is taken away. For there are some Women of so morose +Tempers that they will be querulous, and scold even while the Rites of +Love are performing, and will by the Uneasiness of their Tempers render +that Fruition itself disagreeable which is wont to discharge the Minds +of Men from any Heart-burning, that they may have had; and by this Means +they spoil that Cordial, by which Misunderstandings in Matrimony might +be cured. + +_Xa._ That has been often my Case. + +_Eu._ And tho' it ought always to be the Care of a Wife, not to make her +Husband uneasy in any Thing; yet that ought to be especially her Care to +study, in conjugal Embraces to render herself by all ways possible, +agreeable and delightful to her Husband. + +_Xa._ To a Man, indeed! But I have to do with an untractable Beast. + +_Eu._ Come, come, leave off Railing. For the most part Husbands are made +bad, by our bad Conduct. But to return to our Argument, those that are +conversant in the antient Fables of the Poets, tell you that _Venus_, +(whom they make a Goddess, that presides over Matrimony) had a Girdle or +_Cestus_ which was made for her by _Vulcan's_ Art, in which were +interwoven all bewitching Ingredients of an amorous Medicament, and that +she put this on whenever she went to bed to her Husband. + +_Xa._ I hear a Fable. + +_Eu._ It is true: But hear the Moral of it. + +_Xa._ Tell it me. + +_Eu._ That teaches that a Wife ought to use all the Care imaginable to +be so engaging to her Husband in conjugal Embraces, that matrimonial +Affection may be retain'd and renew'd, and if there has been any +Distaste or Aversion, it may be expell'd the Mind. + +_Xa._ But where can a Body get this Girdle? + +_Eu._ There is no Need of Witchcrafts and Spells to procure one. There +is no Enchantment so effectual as Virtue, join'd with a Sweetness of +Disposition. + +_Xa._ I can't be able to bring myself to humour such a Husband as I have +got. + +_Eu._ But this is for your Interest, that he would leave off to be such +a bad Husband. If you could by _Circe_'s Art transform your Husband into +a Swine or a Bear, would you do it? + +_Xa._ I can't tell, whether I should or no. + +_Eu._ Which had you rather have, a Swine to your Husband, or a Man? + +_Xa._ In Truth, I had rather have a Man. + +_Eu._ Well, come on. What if you could by _Circe_'s Arts make him a +sober Man of a Drunkard, a frugal Man of a Spendthrift, a diligent Man +of an idle Fellow, would you not do it? + +_Xa._ To be sure, I would do it. But how shall I attain the Art? + +_Eu._ You have the Art in yourself, if you would but make Use of it. +Whether you will or no he must be your Husband, and the better Man you +make him, the more you consult your own Advantage. You only keep your +Eyes fix'd upon his Faults, and those aggravate your Aversion to him; +and only hold him by this Handle, which is such a one that he cannot be +held by; but rather take Notice of what good Qualities he has, and hold +him by this Handle, which is a Handle he may be held by: Before you +married him, you had Time of considering what his Defects were. A +Husband is not to be chosen by the Eyes only, but by the Ears too. Now +'tis your Time to cure him, and not to find Fault with him. + +_Xa._ What Woman ever made Choice of a Husband by her Ears? + +_Eu._ She chuses a Husband by her Eyes, which looks at nothing else but +his Person and bare Outside: She chuses him by her Ears, who carefully +observes what Reputation he has in the World. + +_Xa._ This is good Advice, but it is too late. + +_Eu._ But it is not too late to endeavour to amend your Husband. It will +contribute something to the Matter, if you could have any Children by +him. + +_Xa._ I have had one. + +_Eu._ When? + +_Xa._ A long Time ago. + +_Eu._ How many Months? + +_Xa._ Why, about Seven. + +_Eu._ What do I hear! You put me in Mind of the Joke of the three Months +Lying in. + +_Xa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ It must be so, if you reckon from the Day of Marriage. + +_Xa._ But I had some private Discourse with him before Marriage. + +_Eu._ Are Children got by Talking? + +_Xa._ He having by Chance got me into a Room by myself, began to play +with me, tickling me about the Arm-pits and Sides, to make me laugh, and +I not being able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flat +upon the Bed, and he lying upon me, kiss'd me, and I don't know what he +did to me besides; but this is certain, within a few Days after, my +Belly began to swell. + +_Eu._ Get you gone now, and slight a Husband, who if he can get Children +jesting, what will he do if he sets about it in earnest? + +_Xa._ I suspect that I am now with Child by him again. + +_Eu._ O brave! to a good Soil, here's a good Ploughman to till it. + +_Xa._ As to this Affair, he's better than I wish he was. + +_Eu._ Very few Wives have this Complaint to make: But, I suppose, the +Marriage Contract was made between you, before this happened. + +_Xa._ It was made. + +_Eu._ Then the Sin was so much the less. Is your Child a Boy? + +_Xa._ It is. + +_Eu._ That will reconcile you both, if you will but qualify yourself a +little for it. What Sort of Character do your Husband's Companions give +him? And what Company does he keep when he is abroad? + +_Xa._ They give him the Character of an exceeding good-humour'd, +courteous, generous Man, and a true Friend to his Friend. + +_Eu._ These Things give me great Hopes, that he will become such as we +would have him be. + +_Xa._ But I am the only Person he is not so to. + +_Eu._ Do you but be to him what I have told you, and if he does not +begin to be so to you, instead of _Eulalia_ (a good Speaker), call me +_Pseudolalia_ (a prating Liar); and besides, consider this, that he's +but a young Man yet, I believe not above twenty-four Years of Age, and +does not yet know what it is to be the Master of a Family. You must +never think of a Divorce now. + +_Xa._ But I have thought on it a great many Times. + +_Eu._ But if ever that Thought comes into your Mind again, first of all +consider with yourself, what an insignificant Figure a Woman makes when +she is parted from her Husband. It is the greatest Glory of a Matron, to +be obedient to her Husband. This Nature dictates, and it is the Will of +God, that the Woman should wholly depend upon her Husband: Only think, +as it really is, he is your Husband, you cannot have another. Then call +to Mind that the little Boy belongs to you both. What would you do with +him? Would you take him away with you? Then will you defraud your +Husband of his own. Will you leave him to him? Then you will deprive +yourself of that, than which nothing is more dear. Last of all, tell me, +is there any Body that wishes you ill? + +_Xa._ I have a Step-Mother, and a Mother-in-Law, as like her as may be. + +_Eu._ And they wish you ill, do they? + +_Xa._ They wish me in my Grave. + +_Eu._ Then think of them likewise. What can you be able to do, that +would be more grateful to them, than if they should see you divorc'd +from your Husband; a Widow, nay, to live, a Widow bewitcht, worse than a +Widow? For Widows may marry again. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Advice; but can't bear the Thoughts of being +always a Slave. + +_Eu._ Recount what Pains you took before you could teach that Parrot to +prattle. + +_Xa._ A great Deal indeed. + +_Eu._ And yet you think much to bestow a little Pains to mould your +Husband, with whom you may live a pleasant Life all your Days. What a +Deal of Pains do Men take to render a Horse tractable to them: And shall +we think much to take a little Pains to render our Husbands more +agreeable? + +_Xa._ What must I do? + +_Eu._ I have told you already, take Care that all Things be neat, and in +Order at Home, that there be nothing discomposing, to make him go out of +Doors; behave yourself easy and free to him, always remembring that +Respect which is due from a Wife to a Husband. Let all Melancholy and +ill-tim'd Gaiety be banished out of Doors; be not morose nor +frolicksome. Let your Table be handsomely provided. You know your +Husband's Palate, dress that which he likes best. Behave yourself +courteously and affably to those of his Acquaintance he respects. Invite +them frequently to Dinner; let all Things be pleasant and chearful at +Table. Lastly, if at any Time he happens to come Home a little merry +with Wine, and shall fall to playing on his Fiddle, do you sing, to him, +so you will gradually inure your Husband to keep at Home, and also +lessen his Expences: For he will thus reason with himself; was not I mad +with a Witness, who live abroad with a nasty Harlot, to the apparent +Prejudice of my Estate and Reputation, when I have at Home a Wife much +more entertaining and affectionate to me, with whom I may be entertained +more handsomely and more plentifully? + +_Xa._ Do you think I shall succeed, if I try? + +_Eu._ Look to me for that. I engage that you will: In the mean Time I'll +talk to your Husband, and put him in Mind of his Duty. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Design; but take Care that he mayn't discover +any Thing of what has past between us two, for he would throw the House +out of the Windows. + +_Eu._ Don't fear, I'll order my Discourse so by Turnings and Windings, +that he shall tell me himself, what Quarrels have happened between you. +When I have brought this about, I'll treat him after my Way, as +engagingly as can be, and I hope, shall render him to you better +temper'd: I'll likewise take Occasion to tell a Lie or two in your +Favour, how lovingly and respectfully you spoke of him. + +_Xa._ Heaven prosper both our Undertakings. + +_Eu._ It will, I doubt not, if you are not wanting to yourself. + + + + +_The SOLDIER and CARTHUSIAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets out to the Life, the Madness of young + Men that run into the Wars, and the Life of a pious + Carthusian, which without the love of Study, can't but be + melancholy and unpleasant. The Manners of Soldiers, the + Manners and Diet of Carthusians. Advice in chusing a Way + of getting a Livelihood. The Conveniency of a single + Life, to be at Leisure for Reading and Meditation. Wicked + Soldiers oftentimes butcher Men for a pitiful Reward. The + daily Danger of a Soldier's Life._ + + +_The_ SOLDIER _and_ CARTHUSIAN. + +_Sol._ Good Morrow, my Brother. + +_Cart._ Good Morrow to you, dear Cousin. + +_Sol._ I scarce knew you. + +_Cart._ Am I grown so old in two Years Time? + +_Sol._ No; but your bald Crown, and your new Dress, make you look to me +like another Sort of Creature. + +_Cart._ It may be you would not know your own Wife, if she should meet +you in a new Gown. + +_Sol._ No; not if she was in such a one as yours. + +_Cart._ But I know you very well, who are not altered as to your Dress; +but your Face, and the whole Habit of your Body: Why, how many Colours +are you painted with? No Bird had ever such a Variety of Feathers. How +all is cut and slash'd! Nothing according to Nature or Fashion! your cut +Hair, your half-shav'd Beard, and that Wood upon your upper Lip, +entangled and standing out straggling like the Whiskers of a Cat. Nor is +it one single Scar that has disfigured your Face, that you may very well +be taken for one of the _Samian literati_, [q.d. burnt in the Cheek] +concerning whom there is a joking Proverb. + +_Sol._ Thus it becomes a Man to come back from the Wars. But, pray, tell +me, was there so great a Scarcity of good Physicians in this Quarter of +the World? + +_Cart._ Why do you ask? + +_Sol._ Because you did not get the Distemper of your Brain cur'd, before +you plung'd yourself into this Slavery. + +_Cart._ Why, do you think I was mad then? + +_Sol._ Yes, I do. What Occasion was there for you to be buried here, +before your Time, when you had enough in the World to have lived +handsomely upon? + +_Cart._ What, don't you think I live in the World now? + +_Sol._ No, by _Jove_. + +_Cart._ Tell me why. + +_Sol._ Because you can't go where you list. You are confin'd in this +Place as in a Coop. Besides, your bald Pate, and your prodigious strange +Dress, your Lonesomeness, your eating Fish perpetually, so that I admire +you are not turn'd into a Fish. + +_Cart._ If Men were turn'd into what they eat, you had long ago been +turn'd into a Hog, for you us'd to be a mighty Lover of Pork. + +_Sol._ I don't doubt but you have repented of what you have done, long +enough before now, for I find very few that don't repent of it. + +_Cart._ This usually happens to those who plunge themselves headlong +into this Kind of Life, as if they threw themselves into a Well; but I +have enter'd into it warily and considerately, having first made Trial +of myself, and having duly examined the whole Ratio of this Way of +Living, being twenty-eight Years of Age, at which Time, every one may be +suppos'd to know himself. And as for the Place, you are confined in a +small Compass as well as I, if you compare it to the Extent of the +whole World. Nor does it signify any Thing how large the Place is, as +long as it wants nothing of the Conveniences of Life. There are many +that seldom stir out of the City in which they were born, which if they +were prohibited from going out, would be very uneasy, and would be +wonderfully desirous to do it. This is a common Humour, that I am not +troubled with. I fancy this Place to be the whole World to me, and this +Map represents the whole Globe of the Earth, which I can travel over in +Thought with more Delight and Security than he that sails to the +new-found Islands. + +_Sol._ What you say as to this, comes pretty near the Truth. + +_Cart._ You can't blame me for shaving my Head, who voluntarily have +your own Hair clipp'd, for Conveniency Sake. Shaving, to me, if it does +nothing else, certainly keeps my Head more clean, and perhaps more +healthful too. How many Noblemen at _Venice_ shave their Heads all over? +What has my Garment in it that is monstrous? Does it not cover my Body? +Our Garments are for two Uses, to defend us from the Inclemency of the +Weather, and to cover our Nakedness. Does not this Garment answer both +these Ends? But perhaps the Colour offends you. What Colour is more +becoming Christians than that which was given to all in Baptism? It has +been said also, _Take a white Garment_; so that this Garment puts me in +Mind of what I promised in Baptism, that is, the perpetual Study of +Innocency. And besides, if you call that Solitude which is only a +retiring from the Crowd, we have for this the Example, not only of our +own, but of the ancient Prophets, the _Ethnick_ Philosophers, and all +that had any Regard to the keeping a good Conscience. Nay, Poets, +Astrologers, and Persons devoted to such-like Arts, whensoever they take +in Hand any Thing that's great and beyond the Sphere of the common +People, commonly betake themselves to a Retreat. But why should you call +this Kind of Life Solitude? The Conversation of one single Friend drives +away the Tædium of Solitude. I have here more than sixteen Companions, +fit for all Manner of Conversation. And besides, I have Friends who +come to visit me oftner than I would have them, or is convenient Do I +then, in your Opinion, live melancholy? + +_Sol._ But you cannot always have these to talk with. + +_Cart._ Nor is it always expedient: For Conversation is the pleasanter, +for being something interrupted. + +_Sol._ You don't think amiss; for even to me myself, Flesh relishes much +better after Lent. + +_Cart._ And more than that, when I seem to be most alone, I don't want +Companions, which are by far more delightful and entertaining than those +common Jesters. + +_Sol._ Where are they? + +_Cart._ Look you, here are the four Evangelists. In this Book he that so +pleasantly commun'd with the two Disciples in the Way going to _Emaus_, +and who by his heavenly Discourse caus'd them not to be sensible of the +Fatigue of their Journey, but made their Hearts burn within them with a +divine Ardour of hearing his sweet Words, holds Conversation with me. In +this I converse with _Paul_, with _Isaiah_, and the rest of the +Prophets. Here the most sweet _Chrysostom_ converses with me, and +_Basil_, and _Austin_, and _Jerome_, and _Cyprian_, and the rest of the +Doctors that are both learned and eloquent. Do you know any such +pleasant Companions abroad in the World, that you can have Conversation +with? Do you think I can be weary of Retirement, in such Society as +this? And I am never without it. + +_Sol._ But they would speak to me to no Purpose, who do not understand +them. + +_Cart._ Now for our Diet, what signifies it with what Food this Body of +ours is fed which is satisfied with very little, if we live according to +Nature? Which of us two is in the best Plight? You who live upon +Partridges, Pheasants and Capons; or I who live upon Fish? + +_Sol._ If you had a Wife as I have, you would not be so lusty. + +_Cart._ And for that Reason, any Food serves us, let it be never so +little. + +_Sol._ But in the mean Time, you live the Life of a _Jew_. + +_Cart._ Forbear Reflections: If we cannot come up to Christianity, at +least we follow after it. + +_Sol._ You put too much Confidence in Habits, Meats, Forms of Prayer, +and outward Ceremonies, and neglect the Study of Gospel Religion. + +_Cart._ It is none of my Business to judge what others do: As to myself, +I place no Confidence in these Things, I attribute nothing to them; but +I put my Confidence in Purity of Mind, and in _Christ_ himself. + +_Sol._ Why do you observe these Things then? + +_Cart._ That I may be at Peace with my Brethren, and give no Body +Offence. I would give no Offence to any one for the Sake of these +trivial Things, which it is but a very little Trouble to observe. As we +are Men, let us wear what Cloaths we will. Men are so humoursome, the +Agreement or Disagreement in the most minute Matters, either procures or +destroys Concord. The shaving of the Head, or Colour of the Habit does +not indeed, of themselves, recommend me to God: But what would the +People say, if I should let my Hair grow, or put on your Habit? I have +given you my Reasons for my Way of Life; now, pray, in your Turn, give +me your Reasons for yours, and tell me, were there no good Physicians in +your Quarter, when you listed yourself for a Soldier, leaving a young +Wife and Children at Home, and was hired for a pitiful Pay to cut Men's +Throats, and that with the Hazard of your own Life too? For your +Business did not lie among Mushrooms and Poppies, but armed Men. What do +you think is a more unhappy Way of living, for a poor Pay, to murder a +Fellow Christian, who never did you Harm, and to run yourself Body and +Soul into eternal Damnation? + +_Sol._ Why, it is lawful to kill an Enemy. + +_Cart._ Perhaps it may be so, if he invades your native Country: Nay, +and it is pious too, to fight for your Wife, Children, your Parents and +Friends, your Religion and Liberties, and the publick Peace. But what is +all that to your fighting for Money? If you had been knocked on the +Head, I would not have given a rotten Nut to redeem the very Soul of +you. + +_Sol._ No? + +_Cart._ No, by Christ, I would not. Now which do you think is the harder +Task, to be obedient to a good Man, which we call Prior, who calls us to +Prayers, and holy Lectures, the Hearing of the saving Doctrine, and to +sing to the Glory of God: Or, to be under the Command of some barbarous +Officer, who often calls you out to fatiguing Marches at Midnight, and +sends you out, and commands you back at his Pleasure, exposes you to the +Shot of great Guns, assigns you a Station where you must either kill or +be killed? + +_Sol._ There are more Evils than you have mentioned yet. + +_Cart._ If I shall happen to deviate from the Discipline of my Order, my +Punishment is only Admonition, or some such slight Matter: But in War, +if you do any Thing contrary to the General's Orders, you must either be +hang'd for it, or run the Gantlope; for it would be a Favour to have +your Head cut off. + +_Sol._ I can't deny what you say to be true. + +_Cart._ And now your Habit bespeaks, that you han't brought much Money +Home, after all your brave Adventures. + +_Sol._ As for Money, I have not had a Farthing this good While; nay, I +have gotten a good Deal into Debt, and for that Reason I come hither out +of my Way, that you might furnish me with some Money to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I wish you had come out of your Way hither, when you hurried +yourself into that wicked Life of a Soldier. But how come you so bare? + +_Sol._ Do you ask that? Why, whatsoever I got of Pay, Plunder, +Sacrilege, Rapine and Theft, was spent in Wine, Whores and Gaming. + +_Cart._ O miserable Creature! And all this While your Wife, for whose +Sake God commanded you to leave Father and Mother, being forsaken by +you, sat grieving at Home with her young Children. And do you think this +is Living, to be involved in so many Miseries, and to wallow in so great +Iniquities? + +_Sol._ The having so many Companions of my Wickedness, made me +insensible of my Evil. + +_Cart._ But I'm afraid your Wife won't know you again. + +_Sol._ Why so? + +_Cart._ Because your Scars have made you the Picture of quite another +Man. What a Trench have you got here in your Forehead? It looks as if +you had had a Horn cut out. + +_Sol._ Nay, if you did but know the Matter, you would congratulate me +upon this Scar. + +_Cart._ Why so? + +_Sol._ I was within a Hair's Breadth of losing my Life. + +_Cart._ Why, what Mischief was there? + +_Sol._ As one was drawing a Steel Cross-bow, it broke, and a Splinter of +it hit me in the Forehead. + +_Cart._ You have got a Scar upon your Cheek that is above a Span long. + +_Sol._ I got this Wound in a Battel. + +_Cart._ In what Battel, in the Field? + +_Sol._ No, but in a Quarrel that arose at Dice. + +_Cart._ And I see I can't tell what Sort of Rubies on your Chin. + +_Sol._ O they are nothing. + +_Cart._ I suspect that you have had the Pox. + +_Sol._ You guess very right, Brother. It was the third Time I had that +Distemper, and it had like to have cost me my Life. + +_Cart._ But how came it, that you walk so stooping, as if you were +ninety Years of Age; or like a Mower, or as if your Back was broke? + +_Sol._ The Disease has contracted my Nerves to that Degree. + +_Cart._ In Truth you have undergone a wonderful Metamorphosis: Formerly +you were a Horseman, and now of a Centaur, you are become a Kind of +semi-reptile Animal. + +_Sol._ This is the Fortune of War. + +_Cart._ Nay, 'tis the Madness of your own Mind. But what Spoils will you +carry Home to your Wife and Children? The Leprosy? for that Scab is only +a Species of the Leprosy; and it is only not accounted so, because it +is the Disease in Fashion, and especially among Noblemen: And for this +very Reason, it should be the more carefully avoided. And now you will +infect with it those that ought to be the dearest to you of any in the +World, and you yourself will all your Days carry about a rotten Carcass. + +_Sol._ Prithee, Brother, have done chiding me. I have enough upon me +without Chiding. + +_Cart._ As to those Calamities, I have hitherto taken Notice of, they +only relate to the Body: But what a Sort of a Soul do you bring back +with you? How putrid and ulcered? With how many Wounds is that sore? + +_Sol._ Just as clean as a _Paris_ common Shore in _Maburtus_'s Road, or +a common House of Office. + +_Cart._ I am afraid it stinks worse in the Nostrils of God and his +Angels. + +_Sol._ Well, but I have had Chiding enough, now speak to the Matter, of +something to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I have nothing to give you, but I'll go and try what the Prior +will do. + +_Sol._ If any Thing was to be given, your Hands would be ready to +receive it; but now there are a great many Difficulties in the Way, when +something is to be paid. + +_Cart._ As to what others do, let them look to that, I have no Hands, +either to give or take Money: But we'll talk more of these Matters after +Dinner, for it is now Time to sit down at Table. + + + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets forth the Disposition and Nature of a + Liar, who seems to be born to lie for crafty Gain. A Liar + is a Thief. Gain got by Lying, is baser than that which + is got by a Tax upon Urine. An egregious Method of + deceiving is laid open. Cheating Tradesmen live better + than honest ones._ + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + +_Phil._ From what Fountain does this Flood of Lies flow? + +_Pseud._ From whence do Spiders Webs proceed? + +_Phil._ Then it is not the _Product_ of Art, but of Nature. + +_Pseud._ The Seeds indeed proceed from Nature; but Art and Use have +enlarg'd the Faculty. + +_Phil._ Why, are you not asham'd of it? + +_Pseud._ No more than a Cuckow is of her Singing. + +_Phil._ But you can alter your Note upon every Occasion. The Tongue of +Man was given him to speak the Truth. + +_Pseud._ Ay, to speak those Things that tend to his Profit: The Truth is +not to be spoken at all Times. + +_Phil._ It is sometimes for a Man's Advantage to have pilfering Hands; +and the old Proverb is a Witness, that that is a Vice that is +Cousin-German to yours of Lying. + +_Pseud._ Both these Vices are supported by good Authorities: One has +_Ulysses_, so much commended by _Homer_, and the other has _Mercury_, +that was a God, for its Example, if we believe the Poets. + +_Phil._ Why then do People in common curse Liars, and hang Thieves? + +_Pseud._ Not because they lie or steal, but because they do it +bunglingly or unnaturally, not rightly understanding the Art. + +_Phil._ Is there any Author that teaches the Art of Lying? + +_Pseud._ Your Rhetoricians have instructed in the best Part of the Art. + +_Phil._ These indeed present us with the Art of well speaking. + +_Pseud._ True: and the good Part of speaking well, is to lie cleverly. + +_Phil._ What is clever Lying? + +_Pseud._ Would you have me define it? + +_Phil._ I would have you do it. + +_Pseud._ It is to lie so, that you may get Profit by it, and not be +caught in a Lie. + +_Phil._ But a great many are caught in lying every Day. + +_Pseud._ That's because they are not perfect Masters of the Art. + +_Phil._ Are you a perfect Master in it? + +_Pseud._ In a Manner. + +_Phil._ See, if you can tell me a Lie, so as to deceive me. + +_Pseud._ Yes, best of Men, I can deceive you yourself, if I have a Mind +to it. + +_Phil._ Well, tell me some Lie or other then. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told one already, and did you not catch me in it? + +_Phil._ No. + +_Pseud._ Come on, listen attentively; now I'll begin to lie then. + +_Phil._ I do listen attentively; tell one. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told another Lie, and you have not caught me. + +_Phil._ In Truth, I hear no Lie yet. + +_Pseud._ You would have heard some, if you understood the Art. + +_Phil._ Do you shew it me then. + +_Pseud._ First of all, I call'd you the best of Men, is not that a +swinging Lie, when you are not so much as good? And if you were good, +you could not be said to be the best, there are a thousand others better +than you. + +_Phil._ Here, indeed, you have deceiv'd me. + +_Pseud._ Well, now try if you can catch me again in another Lie. + +_Phil._ I cannot. + +_Pseud._ I want to have you shew that Sharpness of Wit, that you do in +other Things. + +_Phil._ I confess, I am deficient. Shew me. + +_Pseud._ When I said, now I will begin to lie, did I not tell you a +swinging Lie then, when I had been accustomed to lie for so many Years, +and I had also told a Lie, just the Moment before. + +_Phil._ An admirable Piece of Witchcraft. + +_Pseud._ Well, but now you have been forewarn'd, prick up your Ears, +listen attentively, and see if you can catch me in a Lie. + +_Phil._ I do prick them up; say on. + +_Pseud._ I have said already, and you have imitated me in lying. + +_Phil._ Why, you'll persuade me I have neither Ears nor Eyes by and by. + +_Pseud._ When Mens Ears are immoveable, and can neither be prick'd up +nor let down, I told a Lie in bidding you prick up your Ears. + +_Phil._ The whole Life of Man is full of such Lies. + +_Pseud._ Not only such as these, O good Man, for these are but Jokes: +But there are those that bring Profit. + +_Phil._ The Gain that is got by Lying, is more sordid, than that which +is got by laying a Tax on Urine. + +_Pseud._ That is true, I own; but then 'tis to those that han't the Art +of lying. + +_Phil._ What Art is this that you understand? + +_Pseud._ It is not fit I should teach you for nothing; pay me, and you +shall hear it. + +_Phil._ I will not pay for bad Arts. + +_Pseud._ Then will you give away your Estate? + +_Phil._ I am not so mad neither. + +_Pseud._ But my Gain by this Art is more certain than yours from your +Estate. + +_Phil._ Well, keep your Art to yourself, only give me a Specimen that I +may understand that what you say is not all Pretence. + +_Pseud._ Here's a Specimen for you: I concern myself in all Manner of +Business, I buy, I sell, I receive, I borrow, I take Pawns. + +_Phil._ Well, what then? + +_Pseud._ And in these Affairs I entrap those by whom I cannot easily be +caught. + +_Phil._ Who are those? + +_Pseud._ The soft-headed, the forgetful, the unthinking, those that live +a great Way off, and those that are dead. + +_Phil._ The Dead, to be sure, tell no Tales. + +_Pseud._ If I sell any Thing upon Credit, I set it down carefully in my +Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ And what then? + +_Pseud._ When the Money is to be paid, I charge the Buyer with more than +he had. If he is unthinking or forgetful, my Gain is certain. + +_Phil._ But what if he catches you? + +_Pseud._ I produce my Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ What if he informs you, and proves to your Face he has not had +the Goods you charge him with? + +_Pseud._ I stand to it stiffly; for Bashfulness is altogether an +unprofitable Qualification in this Art. My last Shift is, I frame some +Excuse or other. + +_Phil._ But when you are caught openly? + +_Pseud._ Nothing's more easy, I pretend my Servant has made a Mistake, +or I myself have a treacherous Memory: It is a very pretty Way to jumble +the Accounts together, and this is an easy Way to impose on a Person: As +for Example, some are cross'd out, the Money being paid, and others have +not been paid; these I mingle one with another at the latter End of the +Book, nothing being cross'd out. When the Sum is cast up, we contend +about it, and I for the most Part get the better, tho' it be by +forswearing myself. Then besides, I have this Trick, I make up my +Account with a Person when he is just going a Journey, and not prepared +for the Settling it. For as for me, I am always ready. If any Thing be +left with me, I conceal it, and restore it not again. It is a long Time +before he can come to the Knowledge of it, to whom it is sent; and, +after all, if I can't deny the receiving of a Thing, I say it is lost, +or else affirm I have sent that which I have not sent, and charge it +upon the Carrier. And lastly, if I can no Way avoid restoring it, I +restore but Part of it. + +_Phil._ A very fine Art. + +_Pseud._ Sometimes I receive Money twice over, if I can: First at Home, +afterwards there where I have gone, and I am every where. Sometimes +Length of Time puts Things out of Remembrance: The Accounts are +perplexed, one dies, or goes a long Journey: And if nothing else will +hit, in the mean Time I make Use of other People's Money. I bring some +over to my Interest, by a Shew of Generosity, that they may help me out +in lying; but it is always at other People's Cost; of my own, I would +not give my own Mother a Doit. And tho' the Gain in each Particular may +be but small; but being many put together, makes a good round Sum; for +as I said, I concern myself in a great many Affairs; and besides all, +that I may not be catch'd, as there are many Tricks, this is one of the +chief. I intercept all the Letters I can, open them, and read them. If +any Thing in them makes against me, I destroy them, or keep them a long +Time before I deliver them: And besides all this, I sow Discord between +those that live at a great Distance one from another. + +_Phil._ What do you get by that? + +_Pseud._ There is a double Advantage in it. First of all, if that is not +performed that I have promised in another Person's Name, or in whose +Name I have received any Present, I lay it to this or that Man's Door, +that it was not performed, and so these Forgeries I make turn to a +considerable Account. + +_Phil._ But what if he denies it? + +_Pseud._ He's a great Way off, as suppose at _Basil_; and I promise to +give it in _England._ And so it is brought about, that both being +incensed, neither will believe the one the other, if I accuse them of +any Thing. Now you have a Specimen of my Art. + +_Phil._ But this Art is what we Dullards call Theft; who call a Fig a +Fig, and a Spade a Spade. + +_Pseud._ O Ignoramus in the Law! Can you bring an Action of Theft for +Trover or Conversion, or for one that having borrow'd a Thing forswears +it, that puts a Trick upon one, by some such Artifice? + +_Phil._ He ought to be sued for Theft. + +_Pseud._ Do but then see the Prudence of Artists. From these Methods +there is more Gain, or at least as much, and less Danger. + +_Phil._ A Mischief take you, with your cheating Tricks and Lies, for I +han't a Mind to learn 'em. Good by to ye. + +_Pseud._ You may go on, and be plagu'd with your ragged Truth. In the +mean Time, I'll live merrily upon my thieving, lying Tricks, with Slight +of Hand. + + + + +_The SHIPWRECK._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + Naufragium _exposes the Dangers of those that go to Sea; + the various and foolish Superstition of Mariners. An + elegant Description of a Storm. They indeed run a Risque + that throw their valuable Commodities into the Sea. + Mariners impiously invoke the Virgin_ Mary, _St._ + Christopher, _and the Sea itself. Saints are not to be + pray'd to, but God alone._ + + +ANTONY _and_ ADOLPH. + +_Ant._ You tell dreadful Stories: Is this going to Sea? God forbid that +ever any such Thing should come into my Mind. + +_Adol._ That which I have related, is but a Diversion, in Comparison to +what you'll hear presently. + +_Ant._ I have heard Calamities enough already, my Flesh trembles to hear +you relate them, as if I were in Danger myself. + +_Adol._ But Dangers that are past, are pleasant to be thought on. One +thing happen'd that Night, that almost put the Pilot out of all Hopes of +Safety. + +_Ant._ Pray what was that? + +_Adol._ The Night was something lightish, and one of the Sailors was got +into the Skuttle (so I think they call it) at the Main-Top-Mast, looking +out if he could see any Land; a certain Ball of Fire began to stand by +him, which is the worst Sign in the World to Sailors, if it be single; +but a very good one, if double. The Antients believed these to be +_Castor_ and _Pollux_. + +_Ant._ What have they to do with Sailors, one of which was a Horseman, +and the other a Prize-Fighter? + +_Adol._ It was the Pleasure of Poets, so to feign. The Steersman who sat +at the Helm, calls to him, Mate, says he, (for so Sailors call one +another) don't you see what a Companion you have by your Side? I do see, +says he, and I pray that he may be a lucky one. By and by this fiery +Ball glides down the Ropes, and rolls itself over and over close to the +Pilot. + +_Ant._ And was not he frighted out of his Wits? + +_Adol._ Sailors are us'd to terrible Sights. It stopp'd a little there, +then roll'd itself all round the Sides of the Ship; after that, slipping +through the Hatches, it vanished away. About Noon the Storm began to +increase. Did you ever see the _Alps_? + +_Ant._ I have seen them. + +_Adol._ Those Mountains are Mole Hills, if they be compar'd to the Waves +of the Sea. As oft as we were toss'd up, one might have touch'd the Moon +with his Finger; and as oft as we were let fall down into the Sea, we +seem'd to be going directly down to Hell, the Earth gaping to receive +us. + +_Ant._ O mad Folks, that trust themselves to the Sea! + +_Adol._ The Mariners striving in Vain with the Storm, at length the +Pilot, all pale as Death comes to us. + +_Ant._ That Paleness presages some great Evil. + +_Adol._ My Friends, says he, I am no longer Master of my Ship, the Wind +has got the better of me; all that we have now to do is to place our +Hope in God, and every one to prepare himself for Death. + +_Ant._ This was cold Comfort. + +_Adol._ But in the first Place, says he, we must lighten the Ship; +Necessity requires it, tho' 'tis a hard Portion. It is better to +endeavour to save our Lives with the Loss of our Goods, than to perish +with them. The Truth persuaded, and a great many Casks of rich +Merchandize were thrown over-Board. _Ant._ This was casting away, +according to the Letter. + +_Adol._ There was in the Company, a certain _Italian_, that had been +upon an Embassy to the King of _Scotland_. He had a whole Cabinet full +of Plate, Rings, Cloth, and rich wearing Apparel. + +_Ant._ And he, I warrant ye, was unwilling to come to a Composition with +the Sea. + +_Adol._ No, he would not; he had a Mind either to sink or swim with his +beloved Riches. + +_Ant._ What said the Pilot to this? + +_Adol._ If you and your Trinkets were to drown by yourselves, says he, +here's no Body would hinder you; but it is not fit that we should run +the Risque of our Lives, for the Sake of your Cabinet: If you won't +consent, we'll throw you and your Cabinet into the Sea together. + +_Ant._ Spoken like a Tarpawlin. + +_Adol._ So the Italian submitted, and threw his Goods over-Board, with +many a bitter Curse to the Gods both above and below, that he had +committed his Life to so barbarous an Element. + +_Ant._ I know the Italian Humour. + +_Adol._ The Winds were nothing the less boisterous for our Presents, but +by and by burst our Cordage, and threw down our Sails. + +_Ant._ Lamentable! + +_Adol._ Then the Pilot comes to us again. + +_Ant._ What, with another Preachment? + +_Adol._ He gives us a Salute; my Friends, says he, the Time exhorts us +that every one of us should recommend himself to God, and prepare for +Death. Being ask'd by some that were not ignorant in Sea Affairs, how +long he thought the Ship might be kept above Water, he said, he could +promise nothing, but that it could not be done above three Hours. + +_Ant._ This was yet a harder Chapter than the former. + +_Adol._ When he had said this, he orders to cut the Shrouds and the Mast +down by the Board, and to throw them, Sails and all, into the Sea. + +_Ant._ Why was this done? + +_Adol._ Because, the Sail either being gone or torn, it would only be a +Burden, but not of Use; all our Hope was in the Helm. + +_Ant._ What did the Passengers do in the mean Time? + +_Adol._ There you might have seen a wretched Face of Things; the +Mariners, they were singing their _Salve Regina_, imploring the Virgin +Mother, calling her the Star of the Sea, the Queen of Heaven, the Lady +of the World, the Haven of Health, and many other flattering Titles, +which the sacred Scriptures never attributed to her. + +_Ant._ What has she to do with the Sea, who, as I believe, never went a +Voyage in her Life? + +_Adol._ In ancient Times, _Venus_ took Care of Mariners, because she was +believ'd to be born of the Sea and because she left off to take Care of +them, the Virgin Mother was put in her Place, that was a Mother, but not +a Virgin. + +_Ant._ You joke. + +_Adol._ Some were lying along upon the Boards, worshipping the Sea, +pouring all they had into it, and flattering it, as if it had been some +incensed Prince. + +_Ant._ What did they say? + +_Adol._ O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! O +most beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff they +sung to the deaf Ocean. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous Superstition! What did the rest do? + +_Adol._ Some did nothing but spew, and some made Vows. There was an +_Englishman_ there, that promis'd golden Mountains to our Lady of +_Walsingham_, so he did but get ashore alive. Others promis'd a great +many Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; others +again, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by the +Virgin _Mary_, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think the +Vow is of no Effect, unless the Place be mentioned. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous! As if the Saints did not dwell in Heaven. + +_Adol._ Some made Promises to become _Carthusians_. There was one who +promised he would go a _Pilgrimage_ to St. _James_ at _Compostella_, +bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging his +Bread all the Way. + +_Ant._ Did no Body make any Mention of St. _Christopher_? + +_Adol._ Yes, I heard one, and I could not forbear laughing, who bawling +out aloud, lest St. _Christopher_ should not hear him, promised him, who +is at the Top of a Church at _Paris_, rather a Mountain than a Statue, a +wax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over and +over as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on the +Elbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if you +should sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay for +it. He answer'd him softly, lest St. _Christopher_ should hear him, you +Fool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe to +Shore, I would not give him so much as a tallow Candle. + +_Ant._ O Blockhead! I fancy he was a _Hollander_. + +_Adol._ No, he was a _Zealander_. + +_Ant._ I wonder no Body thought of St. _Paul_, who has been at Sea, and +having suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquainted +with the Distress, knows how to pity those that are in it. + +_Adol._ He was not so much as named. + +_Ant._ Were they at their Prayers all the While? + +_Adol._ Ay, as if it had been for a Wager. One sung his _Hail Queen_; +another, _I believe in God_. There were some who had certain particular +Prayers not unlike magical Charms against Dangers. + +_Ant._ How Affliction makes Men religious! In Prosperity we neither +think of God nor Saint. But what did you do all this While? Did you not +make Vows to some Saints? + +_Adol._ No, none at all. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ I make no Bargains with Saints. For what is this but a Bargain +in Form? I'll give you, if you do so and so; or I will do so and so, if +you do so and so: I'll give you a wax Taper, if I swim out alive; I'll +go to _Rome_, if you save me. + +_Ant._ But did you call upon none of the Saints for Help? + +_Adol._ No, not so much as that neither. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ Because Heaven is a large Place, and if I should recommend my +Safety to any Saint, as suppose, to St. _Peter_, who perhaps, would hear +soonest, because he stands at the Door; before he can come to God +Almighty, or before he could tell him my Condition, I may be lost. + +_Ant._ What did you do then? + +_Adol._ I e'en went the next Way to God the Father, saying, _Our Father +which art in Heaven_. There's none of the Saints hears sooner than he +does, or more readily gives what is ask'd for. + +_Ant._ But in the mean Time did not your Conscience check you? Was you +not afraid to call him Father, whom you had offended with so many +Wickednesses? + +_Adol._ To speak ingenuously, my Conscience did a little terrify me at +first, but I presently took Heart again, thus reasoning with myself; +There is no Father so angry with his Son, but if he sees him in Danger +of being drowned in a River or Pond, he will take him, tho' it be by the +Hair of the Head, and throw him out upon a Bank. There was no Body among +them all behaved herself more composed than a Woman, who had a Child +sucking at her Breast. + +_Ant._ What did she do? + +_Adol._ She only neither bawl'd, nor wept, nor made Vows, but hugging +her little Boy, pray'd softly. In the mean Time the Ship dashing ever +and anon against the Ground, the Pilot being afraid she would be beat +all to Pieces, under-girded her with Cables from Head to Stern. + +_Ant._ That was a sad Shift! + +_Adol._ Upon this, up starts an old Priest about threescore Years of +Age, his Name was _Adam_. He strips himself to his Shirt, throws away +his Boots and Shoes, and bids us all in like Manner to prepare ourselves +for swimming. Then standing in the middle of the Ship, he preach'd a +Sermon to us, upon the five Truths of the Benefit of Confession, and +exhorted every Man to prepare himself, for either Life or Death. There +was a _Dominican_ there too, and they confess'd those that had a Mind to +it. + +_Ant._ What did you do? + +_Adol._ I seeing that every thing was in a Hurry, confess'd privately to +God, condemning before him my Iniquity, and imploring his Mercy. + +_Ant._ And whither should you have gone, do you think, if you had +perished? + +_Adol._ I left that to God, who is my Judge; I would not be my own +Judge. But I was not without comfortable Hopes neither. While these +Things were transacting, the Steersman comes to us again all in Tears; +Prepare your selves every one of you, says he, for the Ship will be of +no Service to us for a quarter of an Hour. For now she leak'd in several +Places. Presently after this he brings us Word that he saw a Steeple a +good Way off, and exhorts us to implore the Aid of that Saint, whoever +it was, who had the protection of that Temple. They all fall down and +pray to the unknown Saint. + +_Ant._ Perhaps he would have heard ye, if ye had call'd upon him by his +Name. + +_Adol._ But that we did not know. In the mean Time the Pilate steers the +Ship, torn and leaking every where, and ready to fall in Pieces, if she +had not been undergirt with Cables, as much as he could toward that +Place. + +_Ant._ A miserable Condition. + +_Adol._ We were now come so near the Shoar, that the Inhabitants of the +Place could see us in Distress, and ran down in Throngs to the utmost +Edge of the Shoar, and holding up Gowns and Hats upon Spears, invited us +to make towards them, and stretching out their Arms towards Heaven, +signified to us that they pitied our Misfortune. + +_Ant._ I long to know what happened. + +_Adol._ The Ship was now every where full of Water, that we were no +safer in the Ship than if we had been in the Sea. + +_Ant._ Now was your Time to betake yourself to divine Help. + +_Adol._ Ay, to a wretched one. The Sailors emptied the Ship's Boat of +Water, and let it down into the Sea. Every Body was for getting into it, +the Mariners cry'd out amain, they'll sink the Boat, it will not hold so +many; that every one should take what he could get, and swim for it. +There was no Time now for long Deliberation. One gets an Oar, another a +Pole, another a Gutter, another a Bucket, another a Plank, and every one +relying upon their Security, they commit themselves to the Billows. + +_Ant._ But what became of the Woman that was the only Person that made +no Bawling? + +_Adol._ She got to Shoar the first of them all. + +_Ant._ How could she do that? + +_Adol._ We set her upon a broad Plank, and ty'd her on so fast that she +could not easily fall off, and we gave her a Board in her Hand to make +Use of instead of an Oar, and wishing her good Success, we set her +afloat, thrusting her off from the Ship with Poles, that she might be +clear of it, whence was the greatest Danger. And she held her Child in +her left Hand, and row'd with her right Hand. + +_Ant._ O _Virago_! + +_Adol._ Now when there was nothing else left, one pull'd up a wooden +Image of the Virgin _Mary_, rotten, and rat-eaten, and embracing it in +his Arms, try'd to swim upon it. + +_Ant._ Did the Boat get safe to Land? + +_Adol._ None perish'd sooner than they that were in that, and there were +above thirty that had got into it. + +_Ant._ By what bad Accident was that brought about? + +_Adol._ It was overset by the rolling of the Ship, before they could get +clear of it. + +_Ant._ A sad Accident: But how then? + +_Adol._ While I was taking Care for others, I had like to have been lost +myself. + +_Ant._ How so? + +_Adol._ Because there was nothing left that was fit for swimming. + +_Ant._ There Corks would have been of good Use. + +_Adol._ In that Condition I would rather have had a sorry Cork than a +gold Candlestick. I look'd round about me, at Length I bethought myself +of the Stump of the Mast, and because I could not get it out alone, I +took a Partner; upon this we both plac'd ourselves, and committed +ourselves to the Sea. I held the right End, and my Companion the left +End. While we lay tumbling and tossing, the old preaching Sea-Priest +threw himself upon our Shoulders. He was a huge Fellow. We cry out, +who's that third Person? He'll drown us all. But he very calmly bids us +be easy, for there was Room enough, God will be with us. + +_Ant._ How came he to be so late? + +_Adol._ He was to have been in the Boat with the _Dominican_. For they +all paid him this Deference. But tho' they had confess'd themselves in +the Ship, yet having forgotten I know not what Circumstances, they +confess'd over again at the Ship-Side, and each lays his Hand upon the +other, and while this was doing the Boat was over-turn'd. This I had +from _Adam_ himself. + +_Ant._ What became of the _Dominican_? + +_Adol._ As the same Man told me, having implor'd the Help of his Saints, +and stript himself, he threw himself naked into the Sea. + +_Ant._ What Saints did he call upon? + +_Adol._ St. _Dominick_, St. _Thomas_, St. _Vincent_, and one of the +_Peters_, but I can't tell which: But his chief Reliance was upon +_Catherinea Senensis_. + +_Ant._ Did he not remember _Christ_? + +_Adol._ Not, as the old Priest told me. + +_Ant._ He would have swam better if he had thrown off his sanctified +Coul: But if that had been laid aside, how should _Catherine_ of _Siena_ +have known him? But go on and tell me about yourself. + +_Adol._ While we were yet tumbling and tossing near the Ship, which +roll'd hither and thither at the Mercy of the Waves, the Thigh of him +that held the left End of the Stump of the Mast was broken by a great +Spike, and so that made him let go his Hold. The old Priest wishing him +everlasting Rest, took his Place, encouraging me to maintain my Post on +the right Hand resolutely, and to strike out my Feet stoutly. In the +mean Time we drank in abundance of salt Water. For _Neptune_ had +provided us not only a salt Bath, but a salt Potion too, altho' the old +Priest prescribed a Remedy for it. + +_Ant._ What was that? + +_Adol._ Why, as often as a Billow met us, he turn'd his Head and shut +his Mouth. + +_Ant._ You tell me of a brave old Fellow. + +_Adol._ When we had been some Time swimming at this Rate, and had made +some Way, the old Priest being a very tall Man, cries out, Be of good +Heart, I feel Ground; but I durst not hope for such a Blessing. No, no, +says I, we are too far from Shoar to hope to feel Ground. Nay, says he, +I feel the Ground with my Feet. Said I, perhaps it is some of the Chests +that have been roll'd thither by the Sea. Nay, says he, I am sure I feel +Ground by the Scratching of my Toes. Having floated thus a little +longer, and he had felt the Bottom again, Do you do what you please, +says he, I'll leave you the whole Mast, and wade for it. And so he took +his Opportunity, at the Ebbing of the Billows, he made what Haste he +could on his Feet, and when the Billows came again, he took Hold of his +Knees with his Hands, and bore up against the Billows, hiding himself +under them as Sea Gulls and Ducks do, and at the Ebbing of the Wave, he +would start up and run for it. I seeing that this succeeded so well to +him, followed his Example. There stood upon the Shoar Men, who had long +Pikes handed from one to another, which kept them firm against the Force +of the Waves, strong bodied Men, and accustom'd to the Waves, and he +that was last of them held out a Pike to the Person swimming towards +him. All that came to Shoar, and laying hold of that, were drawn safely +to dry Land. Some were sav'd this Way. + +_Ant._ How many? + +_Adol._ Seven. But two of these fainted away being brought to the Fire. + +_Ant._ How many were in the Ship? + +_Adol._ Fifty-eight. + +_Ant._ O cruel Sea. At least it might have been content with the Tithes, +which are enough for Priests. Did it restore so few out of so great a +Number? + +_Adol._ There we had Experience of the wonderful Humanity of the Nation, +that supply'd us with all Necessaries with exceeding Chearfulness; as +Lodging, Fire, Victuals, Cloaths, and Money to bear our Charges when we +went away. + +_Ant._ What Country was it? + +_Adol. Holland._ + +_Ant._ There's no Nation more human, altho' they are encompass'd with +such fierce Nations. I fancy you won't be for going to Sea again. + +_Adol._ No, unless God shall please to deprive me of my Reason. + +_Ant._ I would rather hear such Stories than feel them. + + + + +_DIVERSORIA._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the various Customs of Nations and + their Civility in treating Strangers. An Inn at_ Leyden + _where are nothing but Women. The Manners of the_ French + _Inns, who are us'd to tell Stories, and break Jests. + The_ Germans, _far more uncivil in treating Travellers, + being rude, and wholly inhospitable: The Guests look + after their own Horses: The Method of receiving them into + the Stove: They provide no Supper, till they know how + many Guests they shall have: All that come that Night, + sit down to Supper together: All pay alike, tho' one + drinks twice as much Wine as another does._ + + +BERTULPH and WILLIAM. + +_Bert._ I wonder what is the Fancy of a great many, for staying two or +three Days at _Lyons_? When I have once set out on a Journey, I an't at +Rest till I come to my Journey's End. + +_Will._ Nay, I wonder as much, that any Body can get away from thence. + +_Bert._ But why so? + +_Will._ Because that's a Place the Companions of _Ulysses_ could not +have got away from. There are _Sirens_. No Body is better entertain'd at +his own House, than he is there at an Inn. + +_Bert._ What is done there? + +_Will._ There's a Woman always waiting at Table, which makes the +Entertainment pleasant with Railleries, and pleasant Jests. And the +Women are very handsome there. First the Mistress of the House came and +bad us Welcome, and to accept kindly what Fare we should have; after +her, comes her Daughter, a very fine Woman, of so handsome a Carriage, +and so pleasant in Discourse, that she would make even _Cato_ himself +merry, were he there: And they don't talk to you as if you were perfect +Strangers, but as those they have been a long Time acquainted with, and +familiar Friends. + +_Bert._ O, I know the _French_ Way of Civility very well. + +_Will._ And because they can't be always with you, by Reason of the +other Affairs of the House, and the welcoming of other Guests, there +comes a Lass, that supplies the Place of the Daughter, till she is at +Leisure to return again. This Lass is so well instructed in the Knack of +Repartees, that she has a Word ready for every Body, and no Conceit +comes amiss to her. The Mother, you must know, was somewhat in Years. + +_Bert._ But what was your Table furnish'd with? For Stories fill no +Bellies. + +_Will._ Truly, so splendid, that I was amaz'd that they could afford to +entertain their Guests so, for so small a Price. And then after Dinner, +they entertain a Man with such facetious Discourse, that one cannot be +tired; that I seemed to be at my own House, and not in a strange Place. + +_Bert._ And how went Matters in your Chambers? + +_Will._ Why, there was every where some pretty Lass or other, giggling +and playing wanton Tricks? They ask'd us if we had any foul Linnen to +wash; which they wash and bring to us again: In a word, we saw nothing +there but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they would +every now and then run in there too. When you go away, they embrace ye, +and part with you with as much Affection, as if you were their own +Brothers, or near Kinsfolks. + +_Bert._ This Mode perhaps may become the _French_, but methinks the Way +of the _Germans_ pleases me better, which is more manly. + +_Will._ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much to +tell how they entertain a Traveller. + +_Bert._ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same +every where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guest +welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for +that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German +Gravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one +puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves +till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell: Him you must ask +if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take +it for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where the +Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please +yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be a +noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your +Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those +that shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen. If you find Fault +with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look for +another Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and +sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Care +of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and +all, for that is a common Room for all Comers. + +_Will._ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may +change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have +a Mind to it. + +_Bert._ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off your +Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up +your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself. +There's Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as +for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want +another Water to wash that off. + +_Will._ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy +in them. + +_Bert._ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go +to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten. + +_Will._ Why so? + +_Bert._ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Company +together, that one Trouble may serve for all. + +_Will._ They are for taking the shortest Way. + +_Bert._ You are right; so that oftentimes, there come all together into +the same Stove, eighty or ninety Foot-Men, Horse-Men, Merchants, +Marriners, Waggoners, Husband-Men, Children, Women, sick and sound. + +_Will._ This is having all Things in common. + +_Bert._ There one combs his Head, another wipes off his Sweat, another +cleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and in +short, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as there +was at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body of +another Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they all +stare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal brought +out of _Africa_. And when they are set at Table, and he behind them, +they will be still looking back at him, and be staring him in the Face, +till they have forgot their Suppers. + +_Will._ At _Rome_, _Paris_ or _Venice_, there's no Body thinks any Thing +strange. + +_Bert._ In the mean Time, 'tis a Crime for you to call for any Thing. +When it is grown pretty late, and they don't expect any more Guests, out +comes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and a +crabbed Look, and a slovenly Dress. + +_Will._ Such Fellows ought to be Cup-Bearers to the Cardinals at _Rome_. + +_Bert._ He having cast his Eyes about, counts to himself, how many there +are in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in the +Stove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would be +troublesome; and this with them, is accounted a principal Part of good +Entertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any one +who is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never so +little, that he be not stifled, presently they cry out to shut it again: +If you answer you are not able to bear it, you'll presently hear, get +you another Inn then. + +_Will._ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so many +to draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened with +the Heat; and to eat in the same Place, and to stay there so many Hours, +not to mention the belching of Garlick, the Farting, the stinking +Breaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has its +Contagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it is +call'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And it +is my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there is +from those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of a +Pestilence? + +_Bert._ They are Persons of a strong Constitution, and laugh at, and +disregard those Niceties. + +_Will._ But in the mean Time, they are bold at the Perils of other Men. + +_Bert._ What would you do in this Case? 'Tis what they have been used +to, and it is a Part of a constant Mind, not to depart from a Custom. + +_Will._ And yet, within these five and twenty Years, nothing was more in +Vogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grown +out of Use; but the new Scabbado has taught us to lay them down. + +_Bert._ Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded +_Ganymede_ again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are +Guests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have +been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to +every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their +Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor +or Rich, between the Master and Servant. + +_Will._ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has +driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner +with his Disciples. + +_Bert._ After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd _Ganymede_ +again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again, +and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and +then a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests +may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is +boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour. + +_Will._ Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time? + +_Bert._ None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set +upon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin and +sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests +should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some +where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as +if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they +answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have +lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you +don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen of +their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing +you their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking +Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the +first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a +Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of +Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again, +and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until +their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed +Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of, +and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the +Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their +Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care +that the last Act shall be the best. + +_Will._ This is the Part of a good Poet. + +_Bert._ And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body +should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your +Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length, +out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but +little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and +by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink +most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least. + +_Will._ A strange Temper of the Nation! + +_Bert._ There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay +for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is +wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to +be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in +a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they +are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, +jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon +your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is +a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart +till near Midnight. + +_Will._ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a +tedious one. + +_Bert._ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely +pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old +bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and +semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, +with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some +_Charon_. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money +one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of +those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he +gives you a Nod. + +_Will._ But what if there should be any Thing over and above? + +_Bert._ Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so. + +_Will._ Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning? + +_Bert._ No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow +are you? You pay no more than the rest. + +_Will._ This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of. + +_Bert._ If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed +as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too. + +_Will._ This seems to me to be _Plato_'s City. + +_Bert._ Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing +else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you +can either make Use of or steal. + +_Will._ Are Things very clean there? + +_Bert._ As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six +Months ago. + +_Will._ What becomes of your Horses all this While? + +_Bert._ They are treated after the Manner that the Men are. + +_Will._ But is there the same Treatment every where. + +_Bert._ It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others, +than I have told you; but in general it is thus. + +_Will._ What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in +that Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in +_England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both of +the _French_ and the _Germans_, being a Mixture of those two Nations. +The _Welsh_ boast themselves to be the original _English_. + +_Bert._ Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in +them. + +_Will._ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on +board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time we +shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full. + + + + +_The YOUNG MAN and HARLOT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This is certainly a divine Colloquy, that makes even a + Bawdy-House a chaste Place! God can't be deceiv'd, his + Eyes penetrate into the most secret Places. That young + Persons ought in an especial Manner to take Care of their + Chastity. A young Woman, who made herself common to get a + Livelihood, is recovered from that Course of Life, as + wretched as it is scandalous._ + + +LUCRETIA, SOPHRONIUS. + +_Lu._ O brave! My pretty _Sophronius_, have I gotten you again? It is an +Age methinks since I saw you. I did not know you at first Sight. + +_So._ Why so, my _Lucretia_? + +_Lu._ Because you had no Beard when you went away, but you're come back +with something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you look +duller than you use to do? + +_So._ I want to have a little Talk with you in private. + +_Lu._ Ah, ah, are we not by ourselves already, my Cocky? + +_So._ Let us go out of the Way somewhere, into a more private Place. + +_Lu._ Come on then, we'll go into my inner Bed-Chamber, if you have a +Mind to do any Thing. + +_So._ I don't think this Place is private enough yet. + +_Lu._ How comes it about you're so bashful all on a sudden? Well, come, +I have a Closet where I lay up my Cloaths, a Place so dark, that we can +scarce see one another there. + +_So._ See if there be no Chink. + +_Lu._ There is not so much as a Chink. + +_So._ Is there no Body near to hear us? + +_Lu._ Not so much as a Fly, my Dear; Why do you lose Time? + +_So._ Can we escape the Eye of God here? + +_Lu._ No, he sees all Things clearly. + +_So._ And of the Angels? + +_Lu._ No, we cannot escape their Sight. + +_So._ How comes it about then, that Men are not asham'd to do that in +the Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that they +would be ashamed to do before Men? + +_Lu._ What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preach +a Sermon? Prithee put on a _Franciscan_'s Hood, and get up into a +Pulpit, and then we'll hear you hold forth, my little bearded Rogue. + +_So._ I should not think much to do that, if I could but reclaim you +from this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life in +the World. + +_Lu._ Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one must +live by his Calling. This is my Business; this is all I have to live on. + +_So._ I wish with all my Heart, my _Lucretia_, that setting aside for a +While that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter. + +_Lu._ Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy one +another, my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ You do what you do for the Sake of Gain. + +_Lu._ You are much about the Matter. + +_So._ Thou shalt lose nothing by it, do but hearken to me, and I'll pay +you four Times over. + +_Lu._ Well, say what you have a Mind to say. + +_So._ Answer me this Question in the first Place: Are there any Persons +that owe you any ill Will? + +_Lu._ Not one. + +_So._ Is there any Body that you have a Spleen against? + +_Lu._ According as they deserve. + +_So._ And if you could do any Thing that would gratify them, would you +do it? + +_Lu._ I would poison 'em sooner. + +_So._ But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing that +you can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live this +shameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that would +be more afflicting to them that wish thee well? + +_Lu._ It is my Destiny. + +_So._ Now that which uses to be the greatest Hardship to such as are +transported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, this +you undergo voluntarily. + +_Lu._ What is that? + +_So._ Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections to +Father, Mother, Brother, Sisters, Aunts, (by Father's and Mother's Side) +and all thy Relations? For thou makest them all asham'd to own thee, and +thyself asham'd to come into their Sight. + +_Lu._ Nay, I have made a very happy Exchange of Affections; for instead +of a few, now I have a great many, of which you are one, and whom I have +always esteem'd as a Brother. + +_So._ Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it really +is. Believe me, my _Lucretia_, she who has so many Friends, has never a +one, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House of +Office rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thou +hast brought thyself. _Christ_ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem thee +with his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in an +heavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into which +all the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness. +And if that leprous Infection they call the _French_ Pox han't yet +seiz'd thee, thou wilt not escape it long. And if once thou gettest it, +how miserable wilt thou be, though all things should go favourably on +thy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothing +but a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and now +thou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hear +your Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunken +Fellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work at +Home, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd to +endure, and how late a Nights art thou oblig'd to sit up? + +_Lu._ How came you to be a Preacher? + +_So._ And do but seriously consider, this Flower of thy Beauty that now +brings thee so many Gallants, will soon fade: And then, poor Creature, +what wilt thou do? Thou wilt be piss'd upon by every Body. It may be, +thou thinkest, instead of a Mistress, I'll then be a Bawd. All Whores +can't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is more +impious, and more like the Devil himself? + +_Lu._ Why, indeed, my _Sophronius_, almost all you say is very true. But +how came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be the +greatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither more +frequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you have +been at _Rome_. + +_So._ I have so. + +_Lu._ Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than they +went: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you? + +_So._ I'll tell you, because I did not go to _Rome_ with the same +Intent, and after the same Manner that others do. Others commonly go to +_Rome_, on purpose to come Home worse, and there they meet with a great +many Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, by +whose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The New +Testament with _Erasmus_'s Paraphrase. + +_Lu._ _Erasmus_'s? They say that he's Half a Heretick. + +_So._ Has his Name reached to this Place too? + +_Lu._ There's no Name more noted among us. + +_So._ Did you ever see him? + +_Lu._ No, I never saw him; but I should be glad to see him; I have heard +so many bad Reports of him. + +_So._ It may be you have heard 'em, from them that are bad themselves. + +_Lu._ Nay, from Men of the Gown. + +_So._ Who are they? + +_Lu._ It is not convenient to name Names. + +_So._ Why so? + +_Lu._ Because if you should blab it out, and it should come to their +Ears, I should lose a great many good Cullies. + +_So._ Don't be afraid, I won't speak a Word of it. + +_Lu._ I will whisper then. + +_So._ You foolish Girl, what Need is there to whisper, when there is no +Body but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceive +you're a religious Whore, that relievest Mendicants. + +_Lu._ I get more by them Beggars than by you rich Men. + +_So._ They rob honest Women, to lavish it away upon naughty Strumpets. + +_Lu._ But go on, as to your Book. + +_So._ So I will, and that's best. In that Book, Paul, that can't lie, +told me, that _neither Whores nor Whore-mongers shall obtain the Kingdom +of Heaven_. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It is +but a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yet +I can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinherited +by my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenly +Father should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in the +Case of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is no +Provision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, I +immediately ty'd myself up from all Conversation with lewd Women. + +_Lu._ It will be well if you can hold it. + +_So._ It is a good Step towards Continence, to desire to be so. And last +of all, there is one Remedy left, and that is a Wife. When I was at +_Rome_, I empty'd the whole Jakes of my Sins into the Bosom of a +Confessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind and +Body, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, and +Sobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I should +upon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, _Have Mercy +upon me, O God_: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny to +some poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks he +enjoin'd me so small a Penance, he answer'd me very pleasantly, My Son, +says he, if you truly repent and change your Life, I don't lay much +Stress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lust +itself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priest +impose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with the +Palsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you have +been heretofore. And thus I repented. + +_Lu._ Then as far as I perceive, I have lost my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ Nay, you have rather gain'd him, for he was lost before, and was +neither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, and +longs for the Salvation of thy Soul. + +_Lu._ What would you have me to do then, my _Sophronius_? + +_So._ To leave off that Course of Life out of Hand: Thou art but a Girl +yet, and that Stain that you have contracted may be wip'd off in Time. +Either marry, and I'll give you something toward a Portion, or go into +some Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Place +and get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any of +these. + +_Lu._ My _Sophronius_, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'll +follow thy Advice. + +_So._ But in the mean Time get away from hence. + +_Lu._ Whoo! what so suddenly! + +_So._ Why not to Day rather than to Morrow, if Delays are dangerous? + +_Lu._ Whither shall I go? + +_So._ Get all your Things together, give 'em to me in the Evening, my +Servant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come a +little after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; you +shall live with her some Time upon my Cost till I can provide for you, +and that shall be very quickly. + +_Lu._ Well, my _Sophronius_, I commit myself wholly to thy Management. + +_So._ In Time to come you'll be glad you have done so. + + + + +_The POETICAL FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Poetical Feast teaches the Studious how to banquet. + That Thriftiness with Jocoseness, Chearfulness without + Obscenity, and learned Stories, ought to season their + Feasts. Iambics are bloody. Poets are Men of no great + Judgment. The three chief Properties of a good Maid + Servant. Fidelity, Deformity, and a high Spirit. A Place + out of the Prologue of_ Terence's Eunuchus _is + illustrated. Also_ Horace's _Epode to_ Canidia. _A Place + out of_ Seneca. Aliud agere, nihil agere, male agere. _A + Place out of the Elenchi of_ Aristotle _is explain'd. A + Theme poetically varied, and in a different Metre. + Sentences are taken from Flowers and Trees in the Garden. + Also some Verses are compos'd in_ Greek. + + +HILARY, LEONARD, CRATO, GUESTS, MARGARET, CARINUS, EUBULUS, SBRULIUS, +PARTHENIUS, MUS, _Hilary_'s Servant. + +Hi. _Levis apparatus, animus est lautissimus._ + +Le. _Cænam sinistro es auspicatus omine._ + +Hi. _Imo absit omen triste. Sed cur hoc putas?_ + +Le. _Cruenti Iambi haud congruent convivio._ + +Hi. _I have but slender Fare, but a very liberal Mind._ + +Le. _You have begun the Banquet with a bad Omen._ + +Hi. _Away with bad Presages. But why do you think so?_ + +Le. _Bloody Iambics are not fit for a Feast._ + +_Cr._ O brave! I am sure the Muses are amongst us, Verses flow so from +us, when we don't think of 'em. + + _Si rotatiles trochaeos mavelis, en, accipe: + Vilis apparatus heic est, animus est lautissimus._ + +If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you: +Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind. + +Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels, +they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever. O Melons! +Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden. These are creeping +Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Wits +would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens? + +_Cr._ If a Man may be allow'd to speak Truth at a Poetic Banquet, those +you call Lettuces are Beets. + +_Hi._ God forbid. + +_Cr._ It is as I tell you. See the Shape of 'em, and besides where is +the milky Juice? Where are their soft Prickles? + +_Hi._ Truly you make me doubt. Soho, call the Wench. _Margaret_, you +Hag, what did you mean to give us Beets instead of Lettuces? + +_Ma._ I did it on Purpose. + +_Hi._ What do you say, you Witch? + +_Ma._ I had a Mind to try among so many Poets if any could know a +Lettuce from a Beet. For I know you don't tell me truly who 'twas that +discover'd 'em to be Beets. + +_Guests._ _Crato_. + +_Ma._ I thought it was no Poet who did it. + +_Hi._ If ever you serve me so again, I'll call you _Blitea_ instead of +_Margarita_. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha. + +_Ma._ Your calling me will neither make me fatter nor leaner. He calls +me by twenty Names in a Day's Time: When he has a Mind to wheedle me, +then I'm call'd _Galatea, Euterpe, Calliope, Callirhoe, Melissa, Venus, +Minerva_, and what not? When he's out of Humour at any Thing, then +presently I'm _Tisiphone_, _Megaera_, _Alecto_, _Medusa_, _Baucis_, and +whatsoever comes into his Head in his mad Mood. + +_Hi._ Get you gone with your Beets, _Blitea_. + +_Ma._ I wonder what you call'd me for. + +_Hi._ That you may go whence you came. + +_Ma._ 'Tis an old Saying and a true, 'tis an easier Matter to raise the +Devil, than 'tis to lay him. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha: Very well said. As the Matter is, _Hilary_, you stand +in Need of some magic Verse to lay her with. + +_Hi._ I have got one ready. + +[Greek: Pheugete, kantharides lukos agrios umme diôkei.] + +Be gone ye Beetles, for the cruel Wolf pursues you. + +_Ma._ What says _Æsop?_ + +_Cr._ Have a Care, _Hilary_, she'll hit you a Slap on the Face: This is +your laying her with your _Greek_ Verse. A notable Conjurer indeed! + +_Hi._ _Crato_, What do you think of this Jade? I could have laid ten +great Devils with such a Verse as this. + +_Ma._ I don't care a Straw for your _Greek_ Verses. + +_Hi._ Well then, I must make use of a magical Spell, or, if that won't +do, _Mercury's_ Mace. + +_Cr._ My _Margaret_, you know we Poets are a Sort of Enthusiasts, I +won't say Mad-Men; prithee let me intreat you to let alone this +Contention 'till another Time, and treat us with good Humour at this +Supper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ What does he trouble me with his Verses for? Often when I am to go +to Market he has never a Penny of Money to give me, and yet he's a +humming of Verses. + +_Cr._ Poets are such Sort of Men. But however, prithee do as I say. + +_Ma._ Indeed I will do it for your Sake, because I know you are an +honest Gentleman, that never beat your Brain about such Fooleries. I +wonder how you came to fall into such Company. + +_Cr._ How come you to think so? + +_Ma._ Because you have a full Nose, sparkling Eyes, and a plump Body. +Now do but see how he leers and sneers at me. + +_Cr._ But prithee, Sweet-Heart, keep your Temper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ Well, I will go, and 'tis for your Sake and no Body's else. + +_Hi._ Is she gone? + +_Ma._ Not so far but she can hear you. + +_Mus._ She is in the Kitchen, now, muttering something to herself I +can't tell what. + +_Cr._ I'll assure you your Maid is not dumb. + +_Hi._ They say a good Maid Servant ought especially to have three +Qualifications; to be honest, ugly, and high-spirited, which the Vulgar +call evil. An honest Servant won't waste, an ugly one Sweet-Hearts won't +woo, and one that is high-spirited will defend her Master's Right; for +sometimes there is Occasion for Hands as well as a Tongue. This Maid of +mine has two of these Qualifications, she's as ugly as she's surly; as +to her Honesty I can't tell what to say to that. + +_Cr._ We have heard her Tongue, we were afraid of her Hands upon your +Account. + +_Hi._ Take some of these Pompions: We have done with the Lettuces. For I +know if I should bid her bring any Lettuces, she would bring Thistles. +Here are Melons too, if any Body likes them better. Here are new Figs +too just gather'd, as you may see by the Milk in the Stalks. It is +customary to drink Water after Figs, lest they clog the Stomach. Here is +very cool clear Spring Water that runs out of this Fountain, that is +good to mix with Wine. + +_Cr._ But I can't tell whether I had best to mix Water with my Wine, or +Wine with Water; this Wine seems to me so likely to have been drawn out +of the Muses Fountain. + +_Hi._ Such Wine as this is good for Poets to sharpen their Wits. You +dull Fellows love heavy Liquors. + +_Cr._ I wish I was that happy _Crassus_. + +_Hi._ I had rather be _Codrus_ or _Ennius_. And seeing I happen to have +the Company of so many learned Guests at my Table, I won't let 'em go +away without learning something of 'em. There is a Place in the Prologue +of _Eunuchus_ that puzzles many. For most Copies have it thus: + + _Sic existimet, sciat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quid laesit prior, + Qui bene vertendo, et ects describendo male, &c. + +Let him so esteem or know, that it is an Answer, not a common Saying; +because he first did the Injury, who by well translating and ill +describing them, &c._ + +In these Words I want a witty Sense, and such as is worthy of _Terence_. +For he did not therefore do the Wrong first, because he translated the +_Greek_ Comedies badly, but because he had found Fault with _Terence's._ + +Eu. According to the old Proverb, _He that sings worst let him begin +first._ When I was at _London_ in _Thomas Linacre's_ House, who is a Man +tho' well skill'd in all Manner of Philosophy, yet he is very ready in +all Criticisms in Grammar, he shew'd me a Book of great Antiquity which +had it thus: + + _Sic existimet, stiat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quale sit prius + Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, + Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas: + Idem Menandri Phasma nunc nuper dedit._ + +The Sentence is so to be ordered, that _quale sit_ may shew that an +Example of that which is spoken before is to be subjoin'd. He threatened +that he would again find Fault with something in his Comedies who had +found Fault with him, and he here denies that it ought to seem a +Reproach but an Answer. He that provokes begins the Quarrel; he that +being provok'd, replies, only makes his Defence or Answer. He promises +to give an Example thereof, _quale sit_, being the same with [Greek: +oion] in _Greek_, and _quod genus, veluti_, or _videlicet_, or _puta_ in +Latin. Then afterwards he brings a reproof, wherein the Adverb _prius_ +hath Relation to another Adverb, as it were a contrary one, which +follows, _viz. nuper_ even as the Pronoun _qui_ answers to the Word +_idem_. For he altogether explodes the old Comedies of _Lavinius_, +because they were now lost out of the Memory of Men. In those which he +had lately published, he sets down the certain Places. I think that this +is the proper Reading, and the true Sense of the Comedian: If the chief +and ordinary Poets dissent not from it. + +_Gu._ We are all entirely of your Opinion. + +_Eu._ But I again desire to be inform'd by you of one small and very +easy Thing, how this Verse is to be scann'd. + + _Ex Græcis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Scan it upon your Fingers. + +_Hi._ I think that according to the Custom of the Antients _s_ is to be +cut off, so that there be an _Anapaestus_ in the second Place. + +_Eu._ I should agree to it, but that the Ablative Case ends in _is_, and +is long by Nature. Therefore though the Consonant should be taken away, +yet nevertheless a long Vowel remains. + +_Hi._ You say right. + +_Cr._ If any unlearned Person or Stranger should come in, he would +certainly think we were bringing up again among ourselves the +Countrymens Play of holding up our Fingers (_dimicatione digitorum_, +_i.e._ the Play of Love). + +_Le._ As far as I see, we scan it upon our Fingers to no Purpose. Do you +help us out if you can. + +_Eu._ To see how small a Matter sometimes puzzles Men, though they be +good Scholars! The Preposition _ex_ belongs to the End of the foregoing +Verse. + + _Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, ex + Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Thus there is no Scruple. + +_Le._ It is so, by the Muses. Since we have begun to scan upon our +Fingers, I desire that somebody would put this Verse out of _Andria_ +into its Feet. + + Sine invidia laudem invenias, et amicos pares. + +For I have often tri'd and could do no good on't. + +_Le. Sine in_ is an Iambic, _vidia_ an Anapæstus, _Laudem in_ is a +Spondee, _venias_ an Anapæstus, _et ami_ another Anapæstus. + +_Ca._ You have five Feet already, and there are three Syllables yet +behind, the first of which is long; so that thou canst neither make it +an _Iambic_ nor a _Tribrach._ + +_Le._ Indeed you say true. We are aground; who shall help us off? + +_Eu._ No Body can do it better than he that brought us into it. Well, +_Carinus_, if thou canst say any Thing to the Matter, don't conceal it +from your poor sincere Friends. + +_Ca._ If my Memory does not fail me, I think I have read something of +this Nature in _Priscian_, who says, that among the Latin Comedians _v_ +Consonant is cut off as well as the Vowel, as oftentimes in this Word +_enimvero;_ so that the part _enime_ makes an Anapæstus. + +_Le._ Then scan it for us. + +_Ca._ I'll do it. _Sine inidi_ is a proseleusmatic Foot, unless you had +rather have it cut off _i_ by Syneresis, as when _Virgil_ puts _aureo_ +at the End of an heroick Verse for _auro._ But if you please let there +be a Tribrach in the first Place, _a lau_ is a Spondee, _d'inveni_ a +Dactyl, _as et a_ a Dactyl, _micos_ a Spondee, _pares_ an Iambic. + +_Sb. Carinus_ hath indeed got us out of these Briars. But in the same +Scene there is a Place, which I can't tell whether any Body has taken +Notice of or not. + +_Hi._ Prithee, let us have it. + +_Sb._ There _Simo_ speaks after this Manner. + + Sine ut eveniat, quod volo, + In Pamphilo ut nihil sit morae, restat Chremes. + +_Suppose it happen, as I desire, that there be no delay in_ Pamphilus; +Chremes _remains._ + +What is it that troubles you in these Words? + +_Sb. Sine_ being a Term of Threatning, there is nothing follows in this +Place that makes for a Threatning. Therefore it is my Opinion that the +Poet wrote it, + + _Sin eveniat, quod volo;_ + +that _Sin_ may answer to the _Si_ that went before. + +_Si propter amorem uxorem nolit ducere._ + +For the old Man propounds two Parts differing from one another: _Si, &c. +If_ Pamphilus _for the Love of_ Glycerie _refuseth to marry, I shall +have some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then it +remains that I must intreat_ Chremes. Moreover the Interruption of +_Sosia_, and _Simo_'s Anger against _Davus_ made too long a +Transposition of the Words. + +_Hi._ _Mouse_, reach me that Book. + +_Cr._ Do you commit your Book to a Mouse? + +_Hi._ More safely than my Wine. Let me never stir, if _Sbrulius_ has not +spoken the Truth. + +_Ca._ Give me the Book, I'll shew you another doubtful Place. This Verse +is not found in the Prologue of _Eunuchus_: + +_Habeo alia multa, quæ nunc condonabuntur._ + +_I have many other Things, which shall now be delivered._ + +Although the _Latin_ Comedians especially take great Liberty to +themselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don't remember that they any +where conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read +_Condonabitur_ impersonally, or _Condonabimus_, changing the Number of +the Person. + +_Ma._ Oh, this is like Poets Manners indeed! As soon as ever they are +set down to Dinner they are at Play, holding up their Fingers, and +poring upon their Books. It were better to reserve your Plays and your +Scholarship for the second Course. + +_Cr. Margaret_ gives us no bad Counsel, we'll humour her; when we have +fill'd our Bellies, we'll go to our Play again; now we'll play with our +Fingers in the Dish. + +_Hi._ Take Notice of Poetick Luxury. You have three Sorts of Eggs, +boil'd, roasted, and fry'd; they are all very new, laid within these two +Days. + +_Par._ I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shall +like 'em very well. + +_Hi._ Boy, go ask _Margaret_ what they are fry'd in. + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in neither. + +_Hi._ What! neither in Butter nor Oil. In what then? + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in Lye. + +_Cr._ She has given you an Answer like your Question. What a great +Difficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil. + +_Ca._ Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a +Beet. + +_Hi._ Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time. +Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting? + +_Mo._ Yes, a great many Things. + +_Hi._ These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat. + +_Mo._ What Sauce would you have? + +_Hi._ Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded. + +_Mo._ I'll tell her, Sir. + +_Hi._ What, do you come back empty-handed? + +_Mo._ She says, Juice is not used to be squeez'd out of Vine Tendrels. + +_Le._ A fine Maid Servant, indeed! + +_Sb._ Well, we'll season our Eggs with pleasant Stories. I found a Place +in the Epodes of _Horace_, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wrong +interpreted, and not only by _Mancinellus_, and other later Writers; but +by _Porphyry_ himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings a +Recantation to the Witch _Canidia_. + + _tuusque venter pactumeius, et tuo + cruore rubros obstetrix pannos lavit, + utcunque fortis exilis puerpera._ + +For they all take _exilis_ to be a Noun in this Place, when it is a +Verb. I'll write down _Porphyry_'s Words, if we can believe 'em to be +his: She is _exilis_, says he, under that Form, as though she were +become deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a natural +Leanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive that +the Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourth +Place admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she did +indeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed long +after her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lusty +lying-in Women used to do. + +_Hi._ We thank you _Sbrulius_, for giving us such fine Sauce to our +Eggs. + +_Le._ There is another Thing in the first Book of _Odes_ that is not +much unlike this. The _Ode_ begins thus: _Tu ne quæ sieris._ Now the +common Reading is thus, _Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut melius +quicquid erit pati_. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, as +if there were no Difficulty in it. Only _Mancinettus_ thinking the +Sentence imperfect, bids us add _possis_. + +_Sb._ Have you any Thing more that is certain about this Matter? + +_Le._ I don't know whether I have or no; but in my Opinion, _Horace_ +seems here to have made Use of the _Greek_ Idiom; and this he does more +than any other of the Poets. For it is a very common Thing with the +_Greeks_, to join an infinitive Mood with the Word [Greek: hôs] and +[Greek: hôste]. And so _Horace_ uses _ut pati_, for _ut patiaris_: +Although what _Mancinellus_ guesses, is not altogether absurd. + +_Hi._ I like what you say very well. Run, _Mouse_, and bring what is to +come, if there be any Thing. + +_Cr._ What new dainty Dish is this? + +_Hi._ This is a Cucumber sliced; this is the Broth of the Pulp of a +Gourd boil'd, it is good to make the Belly loose. + +_Sb._ Truly a medical feast. + +_Hi._ Take it in good Part. There's a Fowl to come out of our Hen-Coop. + +_Sb._ We will change thy Name, and call thee _Apicius_, instead of +_Hilary_. + +_Hi._ Well, laugh now as much as you will, it may be you'll highly +commend this Supper to Morrow. + +_Sb._ Why so? + +_Hi._ When you find that your Dinner has been well season'd. + +_Sb._ What, with a good Stomach? + +_Hi._ Yes, indeed. + +_Cr._ _Hilary_, do you know what Task I would have you take upon you? + +_Hi._ I shall know when you have told me. + +_Cr._ The Choir sings some Hymns, that are indeed learned ones; but are +corrupted in many Places by unlearned Persons. I desire that you would +mend 'em; and to give you an Example, we sing thus: + + _Hostis Herodes impie, + Christum venire quid times?_ + + _Thou wicked Enemy_ Herod, _why dost thou dread the Coming + of Christ?_ + +The mis-placing of one Word spoils the Verse two Ways. For the Word +_hostis_, making a Trochee, has no Place in an _Iambick Verse_, and +_Hero_ being a _Spondee_ won't stand in the second Place. Nor is there +any doubt but the Verse at first was thus written, + + _Herodes hostis impie._ + +For the Epithete _impie_ better agrees with _Hostis_ than with _Herod_. +Besides _Herodes_ being a _Greek_ Word [Greek: ê or ae] is turned into +[Greek: e] in the vocative; as [Greek: Sôkrataes, ô Sokrates]; and so +[Greek: Agamemnôn [Transcribers Note: this word appears in Greek with +the ô represented by the character omega.]] in the nominative Case is +turned into _[Greek: o]_. So again we sing the Hymn, + + _Jesu corona virginum, + Quem mater ilia concepit, + Quæ sola virgo parturit. + + O Jesus the Crown of Virgins, + Whom she the Mother conceiv'd, + Which was the only Person of a Virgin that brought forth._ + +There is no Doubt but the Word should be pronounc'd _concipit._ For the +Change of the Tense sets off a Word. And it is ridiculous for us to +find Fault with _concipit_ when _parlurit_ follows. + +_Hi._ Truly I have been puzzled at a great many such Things; nor will it +be amiss, if hereafter we bestow a little Time upon this Matter. For +methinks _Ambrose_ has not a little Grace in this Kind of Verse, for he +does commonly end a Verse of four Feet with a Word of three Syllables, +and commonly places a _cæsura_ in the End of a Word. It is so common +with him that it cannot seem to have been by Chance. If you would have +an Example, _Deus Creator_. Here is a _Penthemimeris_, it follows, +_omnium; Polique rector_, then follows, _vestiens; diem decoro_, and +then _lumine; noctem soporis_, then follows _gratia_. + +_Hi._ But here's a good fat Hen that has laid me Eggs, and hatch'd me +Chickens for ten Years together. + +_Cr._ It is Pity that she should have been kill'd. + +_Ca._ If it were fit to intermingle any Thing of graver Studies, I have +something to propose. + +_Hi._ Yes, if it be not too crabbed. + +_Ca._ That it is not. I lately began to read _Seneca's_ Epistles, and +stumbled, as they say, at the very Threshold. The Place is in the first +Epistle; _And if_, says he, _thou wilt but observe it, great Part of our +Life passes away while we are doing what is ill; the greatest Part, +while we are doing nothing, and the whole of it while we are doing that +which is to no Purpose_. In this Sentence, he seems to affect I can't +tell what Sort of Witticism, which I do not well understand. + +_Le._ I'll guess, if you will. + +_Ca._ Do so. + +_Le._ No Man offends continually. But, nevertheless, a great Part of +one's Life is lost in Excess, Lust, Ambition, and other Vices; but a +much greater Part is lost in doing of nothing. Moreover they are said to +do nothing, not who live in Idleness, but they who are busied about +frivolous Things which conduce nothing at all to our Happiness: And +thence comes the Proverb, _It is better to be idle, than to be doing, +but to no Purpose_. But the whole Life is spent in doing another Thing. +He is said, _aliud agere_, who does not mind what he is about. So that +the whole of Life is lost: Because when we are vitiously employ'd we are +doing what we should not do; when we are employ'd about frivolous +Matters we do that we should not do; and when we study Philosophy, in +that we do it negligently and carelesly, we do something to no Purpose. +If this Interpretation don't please you, let this Sentence of _Seneca_ +be set down among those Things of this Author that _Aulus Gellius_ +condemns in this Writer as frivolously witty. + +_Hi._ Indeed I like it very well. But in the mean Time, let us fall +manfully upon the Hen. I would not have you mistaken, I have no more +Provision for you. It agrees with what went before. _That is the basest +Loss that comes by Negligence_, and he shews it by this Sentence +consisting of three Parts. But methinks I see a Fault a little after: +_We foresee not Death, a great Part of it is past already._ It is my +Opinion it ought to be read; _We foresee Death._ For we foresee those +Things which are a great Way off from us, when Death for the most Part +is gone by us. + +_Le._ If Philosophers do sometimes give themselves Leave to go aside +into the Meadows of the Muses, perhaps it will not be amiss for us, if +we, to gratify our Fancy, take a Turn into their Territories. + +_Hi._ Why not? + +_Le._ As I was lately reading over again _Aristotle_'s Book that he +entitles [Greek: Peri tôn elenchôn], the Argument of which is for the +most Part common both to Rhetoricians and Philosophers, I happen'd to +fall upon some egregious Mistakes of the Interpreters. And there is no +Doubt but that they that are unskill'd in the _Greek_ have often miss'd +it in many Places. For _Aristotle_ proposes a Sort of such Kind of +Ambiguity as arises from a Word of a contrary Signification. [Greek: ho +ti manthanousin oi epistamenoi ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oi +grammatikoi to gar manthanein omônymon, to te xunienai chrômenon tê +epistêmê, kai to lambanein tên epistêmên.] And they turn it thus. +_Because intelligent Persons learn; for Grammarians are only +tongue-learn'd; for to learn is an equivocal Word, proper both to him +that exerciseth and to him that receiveth Knowledge._ + +_Hi._ Methinks you speak _Hebrew_, and not _English_. + +_Le._ Have any of you heard any equivocal Word? + +_Hi._ No. + +_Le._ What then can be more foolish than to desire to turn that which +cannot possibly be turn'd. For although the _Greek_ Word [Greek: +manthanein], signifies as much as [Greek: mathein] and [Greek: +mathêteuein], so among the _Latins_, _discere_, to learn, signifies as +much as _doctrinam accipere_, or _doctrinam tradere._ But whether this +be true or no I can't tell. I rather think [Greek: manthanein], is of +doubtful Signification with the _Greeks_, as _cognoscere_ is among the +_Latins._ For he that informs, and the Judge that learns, both of them +know the Cause. And so I think among the _Greeks_ the Master is said +[Greek: manthanein] whilst he hears his Scholars, as also the Scholars +who learn of him. But how gracefully hath he turn'd that [Greek: ta gar +apostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi], _nam secundum os +grammatici discunt: For the Grammarians are tongue-learn'd_; since it +ought to be translated, _Nam grammatici, quæ dictitant, docent: +Grammarians teach what they dictate_. Here the Interpreters ought to +have given another Expression, which might not express the same Words, +but the same Kind of Thing. Tho' I am apt to suspect here is some Error +in the _Greek_ Copy, and that it ought to be written [Greek: homônumon +tô te xunienai kai tô lambanein]. And a little after he subjoins another +Example of Ambiguity, which arises not from the Diversity of the +Signification of the same Word, but from a different Connection, [Greek: +to boulesthai labein me tous polemious], _velleme accipere pugnantes. To +be willing that I should receive the fighting Men_: For so he translates +it, instead of _velle me capere hostes, to be willing that I take the +Enemies;_ and if one should read [Greek: boulesthe], it is more +perspicuous. _Vultis ut ego capiam hostes? Will ye that I take the +Enemies?_ For the Pronoun may both go before and follow the Verb +_capere_. If it go before it, the Sense will be this, _Will ye that I +take the Enemies?_ If it follows, then this will be the Sense, _Are ye +willing that the Enemies should take me?_ He adds also another Example +of the same Kind, [Greek: ara ho tis ginôskei, touto ginôskei]. i.e. _An +quod quis novit hoc novit._ The Ambiguity lies in [Greek: touto]. If it +should be taken in the accusative Case, the Sense will be this; +_Whatsoever it is that any Body knows, that Thing he knows to be._ But +if in the nominative Case, the Sense will be this, _That Thing which any +Body knows, it knows;_ as though that could not be known that knows not +again by Course. Again he adds another Example. [Greek: apa ho tis hora, +touto hora; hora de ton kiona hôste hora ho kiôn]. _That which any one +sees, does that Thing see; but he sees a Post, does the Post therefore +see?_ The Ambiguity lies again in [Greek: touto], as we shew'd before. +But these Sentences may be render'd into _Latin_ well enough; but that +which follows cannot possibly by any Means be render'd, [Greek: Ara ho +sy phês einai, touto sy phês einai; phês de lithon einai sy ara phês +lithos einai]. Which they thus render, _putas quod tu dicis esse, hoc tu +dicis esse: dicis autem lapidem esse, tu ergo lapis dicis esse._ Pray +tell me what Sense can be made of these Words? For the Ambiguity lies +partly in the Idiom of the _Greek_ Phrase, which is in the major and +minor. Although in the major there is another Ambiguity in the two Words +[Greek: o] and [Greek: touto], which if they be taken in the nominative +Case, the Sense will be, _That which thou sayest thou art, that thou +art._ But if in the accusative Case the Sense will be, _Whatsoever thou +sayst is, that thou sayst is;_ and to this Sense he subjoins [Greek: +lithon phês einai], but to the former Sense he subjoins [Greek: sy ara +phês lithos einai]. _Catullus_ once attempted to imitate the Propriety +of the _Greek_ Tongue: + + _Phaselus iste, quem videtis, hospites, + Ait fuisse navium celerrimus. + + My Guests, that Gally which you see + The most swift of the Navy is, says he._ + +For so was this Verse in the old Edition. Those who write Commentaries +on these Places being ignorant of this, must of Necessity err many Ways. +Neither indeed can that which immediately follows be perspicuous in the +_Latin_. [Greek: Kai ara eoti sigônta legein; ditton gar esti to sigonta +legein, to te ton legonta sigan, kai to ta legomena.] That they have +render'd thus; _Et putas, est tacentem dicere? Duplex enim est, tacentem +dicere; et hunc dicere tacentem, et quæ dicuntur._ Are not these Words +more obscure than the Books of the _Sibyls_? + +_Hi._ I am not satisfy'd with the _Greek_. + +_Le._ I'll interpret it as well as I can. _Is it possible for a Man to +speak while he is silent?_ This Interrogation has a two-Fold Sense, the +one of which is false and absurd, and the other may be true; for it +cannot possibly be that he who speaks, should not speak what he does +speak; that is that he should be silent while he is speaking; but it is +possible, that he who speaks may be silent of him who speaks. Although +this Example falls into another Form that he adds a little after. And +again, I admire, that a little after, in that kind of Ambiguity that +arises from more Words conjoin'd, the _Greeks_ have chang'd the Word +_Seculum_ into the Letters, [Greek: epistasthai ta grammata], seeing +that the _Latin_ Copies have it, _scire seculum_. For here arises a +double Sense, either _that the Age itself might know something_, or +_that somebody might know the Age_. But this is an easier Translation of +it into [Greek: aiôna] or [Greek: kosmon], than into [Greek: grammata]. +For it is absurd to say that Letters know any Thing; but it is no +absurdity to say, _something is known to our Age_, or _that any one +knows his Age_. And a little after, where he propounds an Ambiguity in +the Accent, the Translator does not stick to put _Virgil's_ Words +instead of _Homer's_, when there was the same Necessity in that Example, +_quicquid dicis esse, hoc est_, _What thou sayst is, it is_. _Aristotle_ +out of _Homer_ says, [Greek: ou kataputhetai ombrô], if [Greek: ou] +should be aspirated and circumflected, it sounds in _Latin_ thus; _Cujus +computrescit pluviâ_; _by whose Rain it putrifies_; but if [Greek: ou] +be acuted and exile, it sounds, _Non computrescit pluviâ; it does not +putrify with Rain_; and this indeed is taken out of the _Iliad_ [Greek: +ps]. Another is, [Greek: didomen de oi euchos aresthai]: the Accent +being placed upon the last Syllable but one, signifies, _grant to him_; +but plac'd upon the first Syllable [Greek: didomen], signifies, _we +grant_. But the Poet did not think _Jupiter_ said, _we grant to him_; +but commands the Dream itself to grant him, to whom it is sent to obtain +his Desire. For [Greek: didomen], is used for [Greek: didonai]. For +these two of _Homer_, these two are added out of our Poets; as that out +of the Odes of _Horace_. + + _Me tuo longas pereunte noctes, + Lydia, dormis._ + +For if the Accent be on _me_ being short, and _tu_ be pronounc'd short, +it is one Word _metuo_; that is, _timeo, I am afraid_: Although this +Ambiguity lies not in the Accent only, but also arises from the +Composition. + +They have brought another Example out of _Virgil_: + + _Heu quia nam tanti cinxerunt aethera nymbi!_ + +Although here also the Ambiguity lies in the Composition. + +_Hi._ _Leonard_, These Things are indeed Niceties, worthy to be known; +but in the mean Time, I'm afraid our Entertainment should seem rather a +Sophistical one, than a Poetical one: At another Time, if you please, +we'll hunt Niceties and Criticisms for a whole Day together. + +_Le._ That is as much as to say, we'll hunt for Wood in a Grove, or seek +for Water in the Sea. + +_Hi._ Where is my Mouse? + +_Mou._ Here he is. + +_Hi._ Bid _Margaret_ bring up the Sweet-Meats. + +_Mus._ I go, Sir. + +_Hi._ What! do you come again empty-handed? + +_Mus._ She says, she never thought of any Sweet-Meats, and that you have +sat long enough already. + +_Hi._ I am afraid, if we should philosophize any longer, she'll come and +overthrow the Table, as _Xantippe_ did to _Socrates_; therefore it is +better for us to take our Sweet-Meats in the Garden; and there we may +walk and talk freely; and let every one gather what Fruit he likes best +off of the Trees. + +_Guests._ We like your Motion very well. + +_Hi._ There is a little Spring sweeter than any Wine. + +_Ca._ How comes it about, that your Garden is neater than your Hall? + +_Hi._ Because I spend most of my Time here. If you like any Thing that +is here, don't spare whatever you find. And now if you think you have +walk'd enough, what if we should sit down together under this Teil Tree, +and rouze up our Muses. + +_Pa._ Come on then, let us do so. + +_Hi._ The Garden itself will afford us a Theme. + +_Pa._ If you lead the Way, we will follow you. + +_Hi._ Well, I'll do so. He acts very preposterously, who has a Garden +neatly trimm'd up, and furnish'd with various Delicacies, and at the +same Time, has a Mind adorn'd with no Sciences nor Virtues. + +_Le._ We shall believe the Muses themselves are amongst us, if thou +shalt give us the same Sentence in Verse. + +_Hi._ That's a great Deal more easy to me to turn Prose into Verse, than +it is to turn Silver into Gold. + +_Le._ Let us have it then: + +_Hi. Cui renidet hortus undiquaque flosculis, + Animumque nullis expolitum dotibus + Squalere patitur, is facit praepostere. + + Whose Garden is all grac'd with Flowers sweet, + His Soul mean While being impolite, + Is far from doing what is meet._ + +Here's Verses for you, without the _Muses_ or _Apollo_; but it will be +very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into +several different Kinds of Verse. + +_Le._ What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory? + +_Hi._ This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or +Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better. + +_Le._ Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill? + +_Hi._ Who shall but _Crato_? And therefore he shall be excused from +versifying, that he may attend the more diligently. + +_Cr._ I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and +Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing +best. + +_Hi._ I like him if the rest do. + +_Gu._ We like our Umpire. Begin, _Leonard_. + +_Le. Cui tot deliciis renidet hortus, + Herbis, fioribus, arborumque foetu, + Et multo et vario, nec excolendum + Curat pectus et artibus probatis, + Et virtutibus, is mihi videtur + Lævo judicio, parumque recto. + + Who that his Garden shine doth mind + With Herbs and Flowers, and Fruits of various kind; + And in mean While, his Mind neglected lies + Of Art and Virtue void, he is not wise._ + +I have said. + +_Hi. Carinus_ bites his Nails, we look for something elaborate from him. + +_Ca._ I'm out of the poetical Vein. + + _Cura cui est, ut niteat hortus flosculis ac foetibus, + Negligenti excolere pectus disciplinis optimis; + Hic labore, mihi ut videtur, ringitur praepostero. + + Whose only Care is that his Gardens be + With Flow'rs and Fruits furnish'd most pleasantly, + But disregards his Mind with Art to grace, + Bestows his Pains and Care much like an Ass._ + +_Hi._ You han't bit your Nails for nothing. + +_Eu._ Well, since my Turn is next, that I may do something, + + _Qui studet ut variis niteat cultissimus hortus + Deliciis, patiens animum squalere, nec ullis + Artibus expoliens, huic est praepostera cura. + + Who cares to have his Garden neat and rare. + And doth of Ornaments his Mind leave bare, + Acts but with a preposterous Care._ + +We have no Need to spur _Sbrulius_ on, for he is so fluent at Verses, +that he oftentimes tumbles 'em out, before he is aware. + +Sb. _Cui vernat hortus cultus et elegans, + Nee pectus uttis artibus excolit; + Praepostera is mra laborat. + Sit ratio tibiprima mentis. + + Who to make his Garden spring, much Care imparts, + And yet neglects his Mind to grace with Arts, + Acts wrong: Look chiefly to improve thy Parts._ + +Pa. _Quisquis accurat, variis ut hortus + Floribus vernet, neque pectus idem + Artibus sanctis colit, hunc habet praepostera cura. + + Who to his Soul prefers a Flower or worse, + May well be said to set the Cart before the Horse._ + +_Hi._ Now let us try to which of us the Garden will afford the most +Sentences. + +_Le._ How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed will +furnish me with what to say. _As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so is +Youth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers; +you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pass not away +without Fruit._ + +_Hi._ It is a Theme very fit for a Verse. + +_Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every one +hath his natural Gift._ + +_Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things for +human Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: So +the Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields a +great many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with various +Vices._ + +_Sb. A Garden ought to be drest every Year, that it may look handsome: +The Mind being once furnish'd with good Learning, does always flourish +and spring forth._ + +_Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off from +honest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek for +such Recreations and Divertisements, as are not contrary to Learning._ + +_Hi._ O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: But +before we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper nor +unprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into _Greek_ Verse, as +often as we have turn'd it into _Latin._ And let _Leonard_ begin, that +has been an old Acquaintance of the _Greek_ Poets. + +_Le._ I'll begin if you bid me. + +_Hi._ I both bid and command you. + +_Le._ [Greek: Hôi kêpos estin anthesin gelôn kalois, + Ho de nous mal auchmôn tois kalois muthêmasin, + Ouk esti kompsos outos, ouk orthôs phronei, + Peri pleionos poiôn ta phaul, ê kreittona]. + + He never entered Wisdom's Doors + Who delights himself in simple Flowers, + And his foul Soul neglects to cleanse. + This Man knows not what Virtue means. + +I have begun, let him follow me that will. + +_Hi. Carinus._ + +_Ca._ Nay, _Hilary._ + +_Le._ But I see here's _Margaret_ coming upon us of a sudden, she's +bringing I know not what Dainties. + +_Hi._ If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. What +hast brought us? + +_Ma._ Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed to +stand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet you +Poets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness. + +_Cr. Margaret_ says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Home +to Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind of +Contest. + +_Hi._ But who do you give the Prize to? + +_Cr._ For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome but +I. + +_Hi._ How did you overcome that did not contend at all. + +_Cr._ Ye have contended, but not try'd it out. I have overcome _Marget_, +and that is more than any of you could do. + +_Ca. Hilary._ He demands what's his Right, let him have the Basket. + + + + +_An ENQUIRY CONCERNING FAITH._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Inquisition concerning Faith, comprehends the Sum + and Substance of the Catholick Profession. He here + introduces a_ Lutheran _that by the Means of the orthodox + Faith, he may bring either Party to a Reconciliation. + Concerning Excommunication, and the Popes Thunderbolts. + And also that we ought to associate ourselves with the + Impious and Heretical, if we have any Hope of amending + them._ Symbolum _is a military Word. A most divine and + elegant Paraphrase upon the Apostles Creed._ + + +AULUS, BARBATUS. + +_AU._ _Salute freely_, is a Lesson for Children. But I can't tell +whether I should bid you be well or no. + +_Ba._ In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me be +so. _Aulus_, Why do you say that? + +_Au._ Why? Because if you have a Mind to know, you smell of Brimstone, +or _Jupiter's_ Thunderbolt. + +_Ba._ There are mischievous Deities, and there are harmless +Thunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that are +ominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication. + +_Au._ You're right. + +_Ba._ I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt the +Blow of the Thunderbolt. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the less +sound. + +_Au._ But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the less +it is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike the +Mountains and the Seas. + +_Ba._ They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effect +upon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or a +Vessel of Brass. + +_Au._ Why, and that affrights too. + +_Ba._ It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. None +but God has Thunderbolts that strike the Soul. + +_Au._ But suppose God is in his Vicar. + +_Ba._ I wish he were. + +_Au._ A great many Folks admire, that you are not become blacker than a +Coal before now. + +_Ba._ Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were so +much the more to be desired, if Men followed the Doctrine of the Gospel. + +_Au._ It is to be wished indeed, but not to be spoken of. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Au._ That he that is smitten with the Thunderbolt may be ashamed and +repent. + +_Ba._ If God had done so by us, we had been all lost. + +_Au._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because when we were Enemies to God, and Worshippers of Idols, +fighting under Satan's Banner, that is to say, every Way most accursed; +then in an especial Manner he spake to us by his Son, and by his +treating with us restored us to Life when we were dead. + +_Au._ That thou say'st is indeed very true. + +_Ba._ In Truth it would go very hard with all sick Persons, if the +Physician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch was +seized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for the +Assistance of a Doctor. + +_Au._ But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemper +than I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visits +a sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician. + +_Ba._ Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in the +Diseases of the Mind you have an Antidote ready against every Contagion. + +_Au._ What's that? + +_Ba._ A strong Resolution not to be removed from the Opinion that has +been fixed in you. But besides, what Need you fear to become a Fighter, +where the Business is managed by Words? + +_Au._ There is something in what you say, if there be any Hope of doing +any good. + +_Ba._ While there is Life there is Hope, and according to St. _Paul, +Charity can't despair, because it hopes all Things_. + +_Au._ You observe very well, and upon this Hope I may venture to +discourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be a +Physician to you. + +_Ba._ Do, with all my Heart. + +_Au._ Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians are +allowed to be inquisitive after every particular Thing. + +_Ba._ Ask me any Thing that you have a Mind to ask me. + +_Au._ I'll try. But you must promise me you'll answer me sincerely. + +_Ba._ I'll promise you. But let me know what you'll ask me about. + +_Au._ Concerning the Apostles Creed. + +_Ba._ _Symbolum_ is indeed a military Word. I will be content to be +look'd upon an Enemy to Christ, if I shall deceive you in this Matter. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, who made the Heaven +and Earth. + +_Ba._ Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and the +Angels also which are Spirits. + +_Au._ When thou say'st God, what dost thou understand by it? + +_Ba._ I understand a certain eternal Mind, which neither had Beginning +nor shall have any End, than which nothing can be either greater, wiser, +or better. + +_Au._ Thou believest indeed like a good Christian. + +_Ba._ Who by his omnipotent Beck made all Things visible or invisible; +who by his wonderful Wisdom orders and governs all Things; who by his +Goodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankind +when fallen. + +_Au._ These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But what +Benefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them? + +_Ba._ When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly to +him, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels is +nothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teach +to have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done by +him, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, how +impossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrusting +my own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When I +consider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believe +all Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they may +seem to human Sense absurd or unjust. When I animadvert on his Goodness, +I see nothing in myself that I do not owe to free Grace, and I think +there is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a true +Penitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks in +Faith. + +_Au._ Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him to +be so? + +_Ba._ By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust and +Confidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magic +Arts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equalling +nothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife, +nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to lay +down my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possibly +perish who commits himself wholly to him. + +_Au._ What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothing +but God alone? + +_Ba._ If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, it +is for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring all +Things to his Glory, always giving Thanks to him for whatsoever happens, +whether prosperous or adverse, Life or Death. + +_Au._ In Truth your Confession is very sound so far. What do you think +concerning the second Person? + +_Ba._ Examine me. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe Jesus was God and Man? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Could it be that the same should be both immortal God and mortal +Man? + +_Ba._ That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: And +by Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father, +whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, I +attribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owe +also to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father to +bestow all Things on us through him. + +_Au._ Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lord +than God? + +_Ba._ Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, of +Sovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who is +absolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of the +Godhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' the +Father also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God the +Father. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Place +among the divine Persons. + +_Au._ Then dost thou put thy Confidence in _Jesus_? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ But the Prophet calls him accursed who puts his Trust in Man. + +_Ba._ But to this Man alone hath all the Power in Heaven and Earth been +given, that at his Name every Knee should bow, both of Things in Heaven, +Things in Earth, and Things under the Earth. Although I would not put my +chief Confidence and Hope in him, unless he were God. + +_Au._ Why do you call him Son? + +_Ba._ Lest any should imagine him to be a Creature. + +_Au._ Why an only Son? + +_Ba._ To distinguish the natural Son from the Sons by Adoption, the +Honour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for no +other besides this Son. + +_Au._ Why would he have him to be made Man, who was God? + +_Ba._ That being Man, he might reconcile Men to God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he was conceived without the Help of Man, by the +Operation of the holy Ghost, and born of the undented Virgin _Mary_, +taking a mortal Body of her Substance? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Why would he be so born? + +_Ba._ Because it so became God to be born, because it became him to be +born in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of our +Conception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, that +we being regenerated into him, might be made the Sons of God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he lived here upon Earth, did Miracles, +taught those Things that are recorded to us in the Gospel? + +_Ba._ Ay, more certainly than I believe you to be a Man. + +_Au._ I am not an _Apuleius_ turned inside out, that you should suspect +that an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe this +very Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowed +out, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the _Jews_ looked +for so many Ages? + +_Ba._ I believe nothing more firmly. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead us +to perfect Piety? + +_Ba._ Yes, perfectly sufficient. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that the same was really apprehended by the +_Jews_, bound, buffeted, beaten, spit upon, mock'd, scourg'd under +_Pontius Pilate_; and lastly, nailed to the Cross, and there died? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Do you believe him to have been free from all the Law of Sin +whatsoever? + +_Ba._ Why should I not? A Lamb without Spot. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he suffered all these Things of his own accord? + +_Ba._ Not only willingly, but even with great Desire; but according to +the Will of his Father. + +_Au._ Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and most +dear to him, suffer all these Things? + +_Ba._ That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who were +guilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name. + +_Au._ Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did suffer +them, was there no other Way to be found out to repair our Fall? + +_Ba._ Not human Reason, but Faith hath persuaded me of this, that it +could be done no Way better nor more beneficially for our Salvation. + +_Au._ Why did this Kind of Death please him best? + +_Ba._ Because in the Esteem of the World it was the most disgraceful, +and because the Torment of it was cruel and lingring, because it was +meet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World unto +Salvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World, +and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenly +Things; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazen +Serpent that _Moses_ set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix his +Eyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfil +the Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, _say ye among the Nations, God +hath reign'd from a Tree_. + +_Au._ Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed with +Myrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard and +natural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen set +there? + +_Ba._ That it might be the more manifest that he was really dead. + +_Au._ Why did he not rise again presently? + +_Ba._ For the very same Reason; for if his Death had been doubtful, his +Resurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be as +certain as possible could be. + +_Au._ Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell? + +_Ba._ St. _Cyprian_ affirms that this Clause was not formerly inserted +either in the _Roman_ Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches, +neither is it recorded in _Tertullian_, a very ancient Writer. And yet +notwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with the +Prophecy of the Psalm, _Thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell_; and again, +_O Lord, thou hast brought my Soul out of Hell_. And also because the +Apostle _Peter_, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of the +Author whereof no Man ever doubted,) writes after this Manner, _Being +put to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also he +came and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison_. But +though I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not suffer +anything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that he +might destroy the Kingdom of Satan. + +_Au._ Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that he +might restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did he +rise to live again? + +_Ba._ For three Reasons especially. + +_Au._ Which are they? + +_Ba._ First of all, to give us an assur'd Hope of our Resurrection. +Secondly, that we might know that he in whom we have plac'd the Safety +of our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that we +being dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him by +Baptism, should by his Grace be raised up again to Newness of Life. + +_Au._ Do you believe that the very same Body that died upon the Cross, +which reviv'd in the Grave, which was seen and handled by the Disciples, +ascended into Heaven? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Why would he leave the Earth? + +_Ba._ That we might all love him spiritually, and that no Man should +appropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equally +lift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Men +now so much please themselves in the Colour and Shape of the Garment, +and do boast so much of the Blood or the Foreskin of Christ, and the +Milk of the Virgin _Mary_, what do you think would have been, had he +abode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would those +Peculiarities of his Body have occasioned? + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at the +right Hand of the Father? + +_Ba._ Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all his +Father's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and he +presented this Sight to his Martyr _Stephen_. + +_Au._ Why did he shew it? + +_Ba._ That we may not be discouraged in any Thing, well knowing what a +powerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven. + +_Au._ Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judge +the Quick and the Dead? + +_Ba._ As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretold +concerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, that +whatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass. +We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of the +Prophets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. We +shall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory of +his Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and of +every Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, _Greeks_, or _Scythians_, +shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming he +shall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning of +the World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and behold +his Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall be +there as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will, +from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast the +Devil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternal +Punishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief to +any. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to a +Fellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have the +Day of his coming unknown to all. + +_Au._ I hear no Error yet. Let us now come to the third Person. + +_Ba._ As you please. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ I do believe that it is true God, together with the Father, and +the Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and New +Testament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attains +Salvation. + +_Au._ Why is he called a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds are +quicken'd by the secret Inspiration of the holy Spirit. + +_Au._ Is it not lawful to call the Father a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ Are not then the Persons confounded? + +_Ba._ No, not at all, for the Father is called a Spirit, because he is +without a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according to +their divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because he +breathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even as +the Air breathes from the Land, or the Rivers. + +_Au._ Why is the Name of Son given to the second Person? + +_Ba._ Because of his perfect Likeness of Nature and Will. + +_Au._ Is the Son more like the Father, than the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ Not according to the divine Nature, except that he resembles the +Property of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds from +him also. + +_Au._ What hinders then, but that the holy Spirit may be called Son. + +_Ba._ Because, as St. _Hilary_ saith, I no where read that he was +begotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the _Spirit, and +that proceeding from_. + +_Au._ Why is the Father alone called God in the Creed? + +_Ba._ Because he, as I have said before, is simply the Author of all +Things that are, and the Fountain of the whole Deity. + +_Au._ Speak in plainer Terms. + +_Ba._ Because nothing can be nam'd which hath not its Original from the +Father: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit is +God, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; therefore +the chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in the +Father alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it may +be so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, but +used in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms of +Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Nature +comprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the three +Persons. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ No. + +_Au._ What say you? Do you not believe in it? + +_Ba._ I believe the holy Church, which is the Body of Christ; that is to +say, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, who +agree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, who +put their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spirit +of him; from whose Fellowship he is cut off that commits a deadly Sin. + +_Au._ But why do you stick to say, I believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ Because St. _Cyprian_ hath taught me, that we must believe in God +alone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church, +properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet it +consists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, and +deceive others. + +_Au._ What do you think of the Communion of Saints? + +_Ba._ This Article is not all meddled with by _Cyprian_, when he +particularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used; +for he thus connects them: _For there followeth after this Saying, the +holy Church, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of this Flesh_. +And some are of Opinion, that this Part does not differ from the former; +but that it explains and enforces what before was called _the holy +Church_; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of one +God, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the same +Spirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communion +of all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from the +Beginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of the +Members of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds of +one may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. But +out of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further his +Salvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; and +therefore it follows, _the Forgiveness of Sins_; because out of the +Church there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himself +away with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, I +say, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered by +the Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and after +Baptism, by Repentence, and the Keys given to the Church. + +_Au._ Thus far they are the Words of a Man that is sound in the Faith. +Do you believe that there will be a Resurrection of the Flesh? + +_Ba._ I should believe all the rest to no Purpose, if I did not believe +this, which is the Head of all. + +_Au._ What dost thou mean, when thou say'st the Flesh? + +_Ba._ An human Body animated with a human Soul. + +_Au._ Shall every Soul receive its own Body which is left dead? + +_Ba._ The very same from whence it went out; and therefore, in Cyprian's +Creed, it is added, _of this Flesh_. + +_Au._ How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'd +out of one Thing into another, can rise again the same? + +_Ba._ He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it a +hard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath been +changed in its Form? I don't dispute anxiously which Way it can be done; +it is sufficient to me, that he who hath promised that it shall be so, +is so true, that he can't lye, and so powerful, as to be able to bring +to pass with a Beck, whatsoever he pleases. + +_Au._ What need will there be of a Body then? + +_Ba._ That the whole Man may be glorified with Christ, who, in this +World, was wholly afflicted with Christ. + +_Au._ What means that which he adds, _and Life everlasting_. + +_Ba._ Lest any one should think that we shall so rise again, as the +Frogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is a +twofold Death of the Body, that is common to all Men, both good and bad; +and of the Soul, and the Death of the Soul is Sin. But after the +Resurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body and +Soul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, old +Age, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; but +being made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Nor +shall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; but +shall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On the +contrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon the +wicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduring +everlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with the +Gripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, and +unfeignedly? + +_Ba._ I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so sure +that you talk with me. + +_Au._ When I was at _Rome_, I did not find all so sound in the Faith. + +_Ba._ Nay; but if you examine thoroughly, you'll find a great many +others in other Places too, which do not so firmly believe these Things. + +_Au._ Well then, since you agree with us in so many and weighty Points, +what hinders that you are not wholly on our Side? + +_Ba._ I have a mind to hear that of you: For I think that I am orthodox. +Although I will not warrant for my Life yet I endeavour all I can, that +it may be suitable to my Profession. + +_Au._ How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between you +and the orthodox? + +_Ba._ Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are not +displeased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; and +after Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give you +both Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; and +after that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast of +mine, that you may make a better Judgment of me. + +_Au._ But I make it a matter of Scruple to eat with thee. + +_Ba._ But Physicians use to eat with their Patients, that they might +better observe what they love, and wherein they are irregular. + +_Au._ But I am afraid, lest I should seem to favour Hereticks. + +_Ba._ Nay, but there is nothing more religious than to favour Hereticks. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Did not _Paul_ wish to be made an _Anathema_ for the _Jews_, which +were worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that a +Man may be made a good Man of a bad Man? + +_Au._ Yes, he does so. + +_Ba._ Well then, do you favour me thus, and you need not fear any Thing. + +_Au._ I never heard a sick Man answer more to the Purpose. Well, come +on, let me dine with you then. + +_Ba._ You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes a +Doctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, that +the Mind shall be never the less fit for Disputation. + +_Au._ Well, let it be so, with good Birds (_i.e._ with good Success). + +_Ba._ Nay, it shall be with bad Fishes, unless you chance to have forgot +that it is _Friday._ + +_Au._ Indeed, that is beside our Creed. + + + + +_The OLD MENS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + [Greek: Terontologia], or, [Greek: Ochêma], _shews, as + tho' it were in a Looking-glass, what Things are to be + avoided in Life, and what Things contribute to the + Tranquillity of Life. Old Men that were formerly intimate + Acquaintance when Boys, after forty Years Absence, one + from the other, happen to meet together, going to_ + Antwerp. _There seems to be a very great Inequality in + them that are equal in Age._ Polygamus, _he is very old:_ + Glycion _has no Signs of Age upon him, tho' he is sixty + six; he proposes a Method of keeping off old Age. I. He + consults what Sort of Life to chuse, and follows the + Advice of a prudent old Man, who persuades him to marry a + Wife that was his equal, making his Choice with Judgment, + before he falls in Love. 2. He has born a publick Office, + but not obnoxious to troublesome Affairs. 3. He transacts + Affairs that do not expose him to Envy. 4. He bridles his + Tongue. 5. He is not violently fond of, nor averse to any + Thing. He moderates his Affections, suffers no Sorrow to + abide with him all Night. 6. He abstains from Vices, and + renews his Patience every Day. 7. He is not anxiously + thoughtful of Death. 8. He does not travel into foreign + Countries. 9. He has nothing to do with Doctors. 10. He + diverts himself with Study, but does not study himself + lean. On the other hand_, Polygamus _has brought old Age + upon him, by the Intemperance of his Youth, by Drinking, + Whoring, Gaming, running in Debt; he had had eight + Wives._ Pampirus, _he becomes a Merchant; but consumes + all he has by Gaming; then he becomes a Canon; then a + Carthusian; after that a Benedictine; and last of all, + turns Soldier._ Eusebius, _he gets a good Benefice and + preaches._ + + +EUSEBIUS, PAMPIRUS, POLYGAMUS, GLYCION, HUGUITIO, _and_ HARRY _the +Coachman._ + +_Euseb._ What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do not +see clear, I see three old Companions sitting by me; _Pampirus, +Polygamus_ and _Glycion;_ they are certainly the very same. + +_Pa._ What do you mean, with your Glass Eyes, you Wizard? Pray come +nearer a little, _Eusebius._ + +_Po._ Hail, heartily, my wish'd for _Eusebius._ + +_Gl._ All Health to you, the best of Men. + +_Eu._ One Blessing upon you all, my dear Friends. What God, or +providential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none of +us have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why _Mercury_ with +his Mace could not have more luckily brought us together into a Circle; +but what are you doing here? + +_Pa._ We are sitting. + +_Eu._ I see that, but what do you sit for? + +_Po._ We wait for the _Antwerp_ Waggon. + +_Eu._ What, are you going to the Fair? + +_Po._ We are so: but rather Spectators, than Traders, tho' one has one +Business, and another has another. + +_Eu._ Well, and I am going thither myself too. But what hinders you, +that you are not going? + +_Po._ We han't agreed with the Waggoner yet. + +_Eu._ These Waggoners are a surly Sort of People; but are you willing +that we put a Trick upon them? + +_Po._ With all my Heart, if it can be done fairly. + +_Eu._ We will pretend that we will go thither a-Foot together. + +_Po._ They'll sooner believe that a Crab-Fish will fly, than that such +heavy Fellows as we will take such a Journey on Foot. + +_Eu._ Will you follow good wholsome Advice? + +_Po._ Yes, by all Means. + +_Gl._ They are a drinking, and the longer they are fuddling, the more +Danger we shall be in of being overturned in the Dirt. + +_Po._ You must come very early, if you find a Waggoner sober. + +_Gl._ Let us hire the Waggon for us four by ourselves, that we may get +to _Antwerp_ the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worth +minding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shall +have the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly in +mutual Conversation. + +_Po._ _Glycion_ is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journey +does the Office of a Coach; and according to the _Greek_ Proverb, we +shall have more Liberty of talking, not about a Waggon, but in a Waggon. + +_Gl._ Well, I have made a Bargain, let us get up. Now I've a Mind to be +merry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades after +so long a Separation. + +_Eu._ And methinks I seem to grow young again. + +_Po._ How many Years do you reckon it, since we liv'd together at Paris? + +_Eu._ I believe it is not less than two and forty Years. + +_Pa._ Then we seem'd to be all pretty much of an Age. + +_Eu._ We were so, pretty near the Matter, for if there was any +Difference it was very little. + +_Pa._ But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycion +has nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough to +be his Grandfather. + +_Eu._ Why truly he does so, but what should be the Reason of it? + +_Pa._ What? Why either the one loiter'd and stopp'd in his Course, or +the other run faster (out-run him). + +_Eu._ Oh! Time does not stay, how much soever Men may loiter. + +_Po._ Come, tell us, _Glycion_ truly, how many Years do you number? + +_Gl._ More than Ducats in my Pocket. + +_Po._ Well, but how many? + +_Gl._ Threescore and six. + +_Eu._ Why thou'lt never be old. + +_Po._ But by what Arts hast thou kept off old Age? for you have no grey +Hairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth are +white and even, you have a fresh Colour, and a plump Body. + +_Gl._ I'll tell you my Art, upon Condition you'll tell us your Art of +coming to be old so soon. + +_Po._ I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither you +went when you left _Paris._ + +_Gl._ I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had been +there almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life to +chuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to my +future Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successful +to some, and what had been unsuccessful to others. + +_Po._ I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggot +as any in the World, when you were at _Paris._ + +_Gl._ Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, you +must know, I did not do all this neither of my own mother-Wit. + +_Po._ Indeed I stood in Admiration. + +_Gl._ Before I engaged in any Thing, I applied to a certain Citizen, a +Man of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of a +general Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the most +happy Man in the World. + +_Eu._ You did wisely. + +_Gl._ By this Man's Advice I married a Wife. + +_Po._ Had she a very good Portion? + +_Gl._ An indifferent good one, and according to the Proverb, in a +competent Proportion to my own: For I had just enough to do my Business, +and this Matter succeeded to my Mind. + +_Po._ What was your Age then? + +_Gl._ Almost two and twenty. + +_Po._ O happy Man! + +_Gl._ But don't mistake the Matter; all this was not owing to Fortune +neither. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Gl._ I'll tell you; some love before they chuse, I made my Choice with +Judgment first, and then lov'd afterwards, and nevertheless I married +this Woman more for the Sake of Posterity than for any carnal +Satisfaction. With her I liv'd a very pleasant Life, but not above eight +Years. + +_Po._ Did she leave you no children? + +_Gl._ Nay, I have four alive, two Sons and two Daughters. + +_Po._ Do you live as a private Person, or in some publick Office? + +_Gl._ I have a publick Employ. I might have happen'd to have got into a +higher Post, but I chose this because it was creditable enough to secure +me from Contempt, and is free from troublesome Attendance: And it is +such, that no Body need object against me that I live only for myself, I +have also something to spare now and then to assist a Friend. With this +I live content, and it is the very Height of my Ambition. And then I +have taken Care so to execute my Office, to give more Reputation to my +Office than I receiv'd from it; this I account to be more honourable, +than to borrow my Dignity from the Splendor of my Office. + +_Eu._ Without all Controversy. + +_Gl._ By this Means I am advanced in Years, and the Affections of my +fellow Citizens. + +_Eu._ But that's one of the difficultest Things in the World, when with +very good Reason there is this old Saying: _He that has no Enemies has +no Friends_; and _Envy is always an Attendant on Felicity_. + +_Gl._ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a +Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage +to myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as +I could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance of +Business. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I kept +myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining +the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so +serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of +any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften +it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good +Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid +Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my +Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, I +affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and +resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or +does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy +his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I +never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to +come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent +Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with +Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between +Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or +heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate +them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear +of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens. + +_Pa._ Did you not find a single Life irksome to you? + +_Gl._ Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more +afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately +wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the +Comfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw +it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both, +and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself +with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased. + +_Pol._ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the +first having been so happy a Match to you? + +_Gl._ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of +Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again. + +_Pol._ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a +Bedfellow. + +_Gl._ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the +Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will +be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed to +be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life. +And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now +_Metrodorus_ pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good +in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that +Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for +any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune +happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any +thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd. + +_Pa._ Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than +_Thales_ himself. + +_Gl._ If any Uneasiness in my Mind rises, (as mortal Life produces many +of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from +the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly. + +_Pol._ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Anger +of the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequently +are. + +_Gl._ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an +Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with +myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will +be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at +first, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I be +sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to +go to Bed with me. + +_Eu._ No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper. + +_Gl._ Well, and that I mayn't conceal any thing from Friends, in an +especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any +Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my +Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty +Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I +have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain +of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, [Greek: +euthymia]. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury. + +_Eu._ Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of +Death? + +_Gl._ No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die, +and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be +sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but +to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a +Man can't live happily that does not live piously. + +_Pa._ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in +the same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself. + +_Gl._ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but +then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's +Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to +myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in +Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Years +together, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about two +Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a +Country-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to the +City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from +the new-found Islands. + +_Eu._ Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick? + +_Gl._ I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet. +If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet +or the Country Air. + +_Eu._ Don't you study sometimes? + +_Gl._ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a +Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit +of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of +learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my +Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and +walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I +have read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after +a While I return to my Book again. + +_Eu._ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none +of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many? + +_Gl._ My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix any +thing deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I +have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myself +young, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Age +upon him to that Degree. + +_Po._ Indeed, I will hide nothing from such trusty Companions. + +_Eu._ You will tell it to those that will not make a Discourse of it. + +_Po._ You very well know I indulg'd my Appetite when I was at _Paris_. + +_Eu._ We remember it very well. But we thought that you had left your +rakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_. + +_Po._ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was big +with Child. + +_Eu._ What, into your Father's House? + +_Po._ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who was +to come to her in a little Time. + +_Gl._ Did your Father believe it? + +_Po._ He smelt the Matter out in three or four Days time, and then there +was a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave off +Feasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, my +Father continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cackling +Gossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, I +march'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought me +some young Chickens. + +_Pa._ Where had you Money all the While? + +_Po._ My Mother gave me some by Stealth, and I ran over Head and Ears in +Debt. + +_Eu._ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you? + +_Po._ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily than +they will a Spendthrift. + +_Pa._ And what next? + +_Po._ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in good +earnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon this +Condition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one of +our own Country. + +_Eu._ Was she your Wife? + +_Po._ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, but +there had been carnal Copulation in the present Tense. + +_Eu._ How could you leave her then? + +_Po._ It came to be known afterwards, that my _French_ Woman had a +_French_ Husband that she had elop'd from some Time before. + +_Eu._ But it seems you have a Wife now. + +_Po._ None besides this which is my Eighth. + +_Eu._ The Eighth! Why then you were named _Polygamus_ by Way of +Prophecy. Perhaps they all died without Children. + +_Po._ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I have +at Home. + +_Eu._ I had rather have so many Hens at Home, which would lay me Eggs. +An't you weary of wifeing? + +_Po._ I am so weary of it, that if this Eighth should die to Day, I +would marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not have +two or three, when one Cock has so many Hens. + +_Eu._ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and that +you have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings on +old Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours, +and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But who +maintains your Family all this While? + +_Po._ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I work +hard with my Hands. + +_Eu._ Have you given over Study then? + +_Po._ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Master +of seven Arts, I am become a Workman of but one Art. + +_Eu._ Poor Man! So many Times you were obliged to be a Mourner, and so +many Times a Widower. + +_Po._ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always put +an End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth the +Epitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration of +his Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he is +two or three Years older than I. + +_Pa._ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such a +Romance. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it. + +_Pa._ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly to +enter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what I +had; and after long Consultation Merchandizing was what I took to. + +_Po._ I admire this Way of Life pleas'd you more than any other. + +_Pa._ I was naturally greedy to know new Things, to see various +Countries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners of +Men, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. From +which a general Knowledge of Things proceeds. + +_Po._ But a wretched one, which is often purchas'd with Inconveniencies. + +_Pa._ It is so, therefore my Father gave me a good large Stock, that I +might begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time I +courted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone off +without a Portion. + +_Eu._ Did you succeed? + +_Pa._ No. Before I came Home, I lost all, Stock and Block. + +_Eu._ Perhaps by Shipwreck. + +_Pa._ By Shipwreck indeed. For we run upon more dangerous Rocks than +those of _Scilly_. + +_Eu._ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is the +Name of it? + +_Pa._ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamous +for the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, the +Devil's Bones] in _Latin_, how you call it in _Greek_ I can't tell. + +_Eu._ O Fool! + +_Pa._ Nay, my Father was a greater Fool, to trust a young Fop with such +a Sum of Money. + +_Gl._ And what did you do next? + +_Pa._ Why nothing at all, but I began to think of hanging myself. + +_Gl._ Was your Father so implacable then? For such a Loss might be made +up again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes the +first Essay, and much more it ought to be to one that tries all Things. + +_Pa._ Tho' what you say may be true, I lost my Wife in the mean Time. +For as soon as the Maid's Parents came to understand what they must +expect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head and +Ears in Love. + +_Gl._ I pity thee. But what did you propose to yourself after that? + +_Pa._ To do as it is usual in desperate Cases. My Father had cast me +off, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'd +a Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberate +seriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether I +should throw myself into a Monastery. + +_Eu._ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, the +easier Way of Dying. + +_Pa._ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'd +to me the most painful. + +_Gl._ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that they +may live more comfortably there. + +_Pa._ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole out +of my own Country. + +_Gl._ Whither did you go at last? + +_Pa._ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order that +wear Linnen outwards and Woollen next their Skin. + +_Gl._ Did you spend your Winter in _Ireland_? + +_Pa._ No. But by that Time I had been among them two Months I sail'd +into _Scotland_. + +_Gl._ What displeas'd you among them? + +_Pa._ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enough +for the Deserts of one, that once Hanging was too good for. + +_Gl._ Well, what past in _Scotland_? + +_Pa._ Then I chang'd my Linnen Habit for a Leathern one, among the +Carthusians. + +_Eu._ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead to +the World. + +_Pa._ It seem'd so to me, when I heard them Singing. + +_Gl._ What? Do dead Men sing? But how many Months did you spend among +the _Scots_? + +_Pa._ Almost six. + +_Gl._ A wonderful Constancy. + +_Eu._ What offended you there? + +_Pa._ Because it seem'd to me to be a lazy, delicate Sort of Life; and +then I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reason +of their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid I +should lose it all. + +_Po._ Whither did you take your next Flight? + +_Pa._ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of the +Order of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, that +they are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, that +for their upper Garment wore Hair-Cloth like a Net. + +_Gl._ A grievous Mortification of the Flesh. + +_Pa._ Here I stay'd eleven Months. + +_Eu._ What was the Matter that you did not stay there for good and all? + +_Pa._ Because I found there were more Ceremonies than true Piety: And +besides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which +_Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit being +chang'd into a white one; with these I liv'd ten Months. + +_Eu._ What disgusted you here? + +_Pa._ I did not much dislike any Thing, for I found them very good +Company; but the _Greek_ Proverb ran in my Mind; + + [Greek: Dei tas chelônas ê phagein ê mê phagein.] + + _One must either eat Snails, or eat nothing at all._ + +Therefore I came to a Resolution, either not to be a Monk, or to be a +Monk to Perfection. I had heard there were some of the Order of St. +_Bridget_, that were really heavenly Men, I betook myself to these. + +_Eu._ How many Months did you stay there? + +_Pa._ Two Days; but not quite that. + +_Gl._ Did that Kind of Life please you no better than so? + +_Pa._ They take no Body in, but those that will profess themselves +presently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily to +put my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And as +often as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that I +had lost, tormented my Mind. + +_Gl._ Well, and what after this? + +_Pa._ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I met +with any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up and +down, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at first +Sight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Some +carried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some a +party-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some a +quadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, that +I might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I found +in reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Cross +on a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tired +with Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holiness +all at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so would +return Home with a Back-Load of Sanctimony. + +_Po._ And did you go thither? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Po._ Where did you get Money to bear your Charges? + +_Pa._ I wonder it never came into your Head, to ask that before now, and +not to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the old +Proverb; _a Man of Art will live any where_. + +_Gl._ What Art do you carry with you? + +_Pa._ Palmistry. + +_Gl._ Where did you learn it? + +_Pa._ What signifies that? + +_Gl._ Who was your Master? + +_Pa._ My Belly, the great Master of all Arts: I foretold Things past, +present, and to come. + +_Gl._ And did you know any Thing of the Matter? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all; but I made bold Guesses, and run no Risque +neither, having got my Money first. + +_Po._ And was so ridiculous an Art sufficient to maintain you? + +_Pa._ It was, and two Servants too: There is every where such a Number +of foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to +_Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who being +seventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless he +had first visited _Jerusalem_. + +_Eu._ What, did he leave a Wife at Home? + +_Pa._ Yes, and six Children. + +_Eu._ O impious, pious, old Man! Well, and did you come back holy from +thence? + +_Pa._ Shall I tell you the Truth? Somewhat worse than I went. + +_Eu._ So, as I hear, your Religion was grown cool. + +_Pa._ Nay, it grew more hot: So I went back into _Italy_, and enter'd +into the Army. + +_Eu._ What, then, did you look for Religion in the Camp. Than which, +what is there that can be more impious? + +_Pa._ It was a holy War. + +_Eu._ Perhaps against the _Turks_. + +_Pa._ Nay, more holy than that, as they indeed gave out at that Time. + +_Eu._ What was that? + +_Pa._ Pope _Julius_ the Second made War upon the _French_. And the +Experience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier's +Life. + +_Eu._ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones. + +_Pa._ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than I +did in the Monasteries. + +_Eu._ And what did you do after this? + +_Pa._ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to my +Business of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward in +Pursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came into +my Mind, that I might follow both together. + +_Eu._ What, be a Merchant and a Monk both together? + +_Pa._ Why not? There is nothing more religious than the Orders of +Mendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly over +Sea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enter +into the Houses of common People, Noblemen, and Kings. + +_Eu._ Ay, but they don't Trade for Gain. + +_Pa._ Very often, with better Success than we do. + +_Eu._ Which of these Orders did you make Choice of? + +_Pa._ I try'd them all. + +_Eu._ Did none of them please you? + +_Pa._ I lik'd them all well enough, if I might but presently have gone +to Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time in +the Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began to +think how I might get to be made an Abbot: But, I thought with myself, +_Kissing goes by Favour_, and it will be a tedious Pursuit: So having +spent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, I +return'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myself +to my old Business of Traffick. + +_Gl._ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and were +transform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could you +behave yourself with a proper Decorum? + +_Pa._ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act several +Parts? + +_Eu._ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort of +Life, which you most approve of. + +_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which I +follow. + +_Eu._ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it. + +_Pa._ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that is +entirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the best +on't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much to +acquaint his Friends with some Scenes of his Course of Life. + +_Eu._ Nay, with the whole Play of it, if you please to hear it, for it +does not consist of many Acts. + +_Gl._ It will be a very great Favour. + +_Eu._ When I return'd to my own Country, I took a Year to deliberate +what Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment my +Inclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary was +offered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I accepted +it. + +_Gl._ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People. + +_Eu._ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth the +accepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so many +Advantages to fall into a Man's Mouth, as tho' they dropt out of Heaven; +handsome Houses well furnish'd, a large Revenue, an honourable Society, +and a Church at Hand, to serve God in, when you have a Mind to it? + +_Pa._ I was scandaliz'd at the Luxury of the Persons, and the Infamy of +their Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have an +Aversion to Learning. + +_Eu._ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, and +associate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that are +bad better. + +_Po._ And is that the State of Life you have always liv'd in? + +_Eu._ Always, except four Years, that I liv'd at _Padua_. + +_Po._ What did you do there? + +_Eu._ These Years I divided in this Manner; I studied Physick a Year and +a half, and the rest of the Time Divinity. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Eu._ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and also +sometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preached +sometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I have +led a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not being +ambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it had +been offered me. + +_Pa._ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions have +liv'd, that were our Familiars. + +_Eu._ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not far +from the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up the +same Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure. + +_Hugh. [a Waggoner.]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up this +Rubbish? + +_Harry the Waggoner._ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp? + +_Hugh._ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bed +of Nettles, to make them grow warm again. + +_Harry._ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into a +Pond to cool them, to lay their Concupiscence, for they are too hot. + +_Hugh._ I am not us'd to overturn my Passengers. + +_Harry._ No? but I saw you a little While ago, overturn Half a Dozen +Carthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they came +out black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some noble +Exploit. + +_Hugh._ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a dead +Weight to my Waggon. + +_Harry._ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, have +made my Waggon go light. I never had a better Fare. + +_Hugh._ But you don't use to like such Passengers. + +_Harry._ But these are good old Men. + +_Hugh._ How do you know that? + +_Harry._ Because they made me drink humming Ale, three Times by the Way. + +_Hugh._ Ha, ha, ha, then they are good to you. + + + + +_The FRANCISCANS,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or RICH BEGGARS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Franciscans, _or rich poor Persons, are not + admitted into the House of a Country Parson_. Pandocheus + _jokes wittily upon them. The Habit is not to be + accounted odious. The Life and Death of the_ Franciscans. + _Of the foolish Pomp of Habits. The Habits of Monks are + not in themselves evil. What Sort of Persons Monks ought + to be. The Use of Garments is for Necessity and Decency. + What Decency is. Whence arose the Variety of Habits and + Garments among the Monks. That there was in old Time no + Superstition in the Habits._ + + +CONRADE, _a Bernardine_ Monk, _a_ Parson, _an_ Inn-Keeper _and his_ +Wife. + +_Con._ Hospitality becomes a Pastor. + +_Pars._ But I am a Pastor of Sheep; I don't love Wolves. + +_Con._ But perhaps you don't hate a Wench so much. But what Harm have we +done you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so much +as admit us under your Roof? We won't put you to the Charge of a Supper. + +_Pars._ I'll tell ye, because if you spy but a Hen or a Chicken in a +Body's House, I should be sure to hear of it to-Morrow in the Pulpit. +This is the Gratitude you shew for your being entertain'd. + +_Con._ We are not all such Blabs. + +_Pars._ Well, be what you will, I'd scarce put Confidence in St. +_Peter_ himself, if he came to me in such a Habit. + +_Con._ If that be your Resolution, at least tell us where is an Inn. + +_Pars._ There's a publick Inn here in the Town. + +_Con._ What Sign has it? + +_Pars._ Upon a Board that hangs up, you will see a Dog thrusting his +Head into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; and +a Wolf sits at the Bar. + +_Con._ That's an unlucky Sign. + +_Pars._ You may e'en make your best on't. + +_Ber._ What Sort of a Pastor is this? we might be starv'd for him. + +_Con._ If he feeds his Sheep no better than he feeds us, they must needs +be very lean. + +_Ber._ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall we +do? + +_Con._ We must set a good Face on't. + +_Ber._ There's little to be gotten by Modesty, in a Case of Necessity. + +_Con._ Very right, St. _Francis_ will be with us. + +_Ber._ Let's try our Fortune then. + +_Con._ We won't stay for our Host's Answer at the Door, but we'll rush +directly into the Stove, and we won't easily be gotten out again. + +_Ber._ O impudent Trick! + +_Con._ This is better than to lie abroad all Night, and be frozen to +Death. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and take +it out again to-Morrow. + +_Ber._ Indeed, the Matter requires it. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Animals do I see here? + +_Con._ We are the Servants of God, and the Sons of St. _Francis_, good +Man. + +_Innk._ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but I +would not have many of them in my House. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but you +have neither Hands nor Feet to work. Ha, ha! You Sons of St. _Francis_, +you use to tell us in the Pulpit, that he was a pure Batchelor, and has +he got so many Sons? + +_Con._ We are the Children of the Spirit, not of the Flesh. + +_Innk._ A very unhappy Father, for your Mind is the worst Part about +you; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it is +better with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives and +Daughters. + +_Con._ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degenerate +from the Institutions of our Founder; we are strict Observers of them. + +_Innk._ And I'll observe you too, that you don't do me any Damage, for I +have a mortal Aversion for this Sort of Cattle. + +_Con._ Why so, I pray? + +_Innk._ Because you carry Teeth in your Head, but no Money in your +Pocket; and such Sort of Guests are very unwelcome to me. + +_Con._ But we take Pains for you. + +_Innk._ Shall I shew you after what Manner you labour for me? + +_Con._ Do, shew us. + +_Innk._ Look upon that Picture there, just by you, on your left Hand, +there you'll see a Wolf a Preaching, and behind him a Goose, thrusting +her Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one at +Confession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. There +you see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in one +Hand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse. + +_Con._ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathed +with this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses, +Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garment +covers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makes +no Body worse. It is unjust to judge of a Man by his Cloaths; for if so, +the Garment that you wear sometimes were to be accounted detestable, +because it covers many Thieves, Murderers, Conjurers, and Whoremasters. + +_Innk._ Well, I'll dispense with your Habit, if you'll but pay your +Reckonings. + +_Con._ We'll pray to God for you. + +_Innk._ And I'll pray to God for you, and there's one for t'other. + +_Con._ But there are some Persons that you must not take Money of. + +_Innk._ How comes it that you make a Conscience of touching any? + +_Con._ Because it does not consist with our Profession. + +_Innk._ Nor does it stand with my Profession to entertain Guests for +nothing. + +_Con._ But we are tied up by a Rule not to touch Money. + +_Innk._ And my Rule commands me quite the contrary. + +_Con._ What Rule is yours? + +_Innk._ Read those Verses: + + _Guests at this Table, when you've eat while you're able. + Rise not hence before you have first paid your Score._ + +_Con._ We'll be no Charge to you. + +_Innk._ But they that are no Charge to me are no Profit to me neither. + +_Con._ If you do us any good Office here, God will make it up to you +sufficiently. + +_Innk._ But these Words won't keep my Family. + +_Con._ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't be +troublesome to any Body. + +_Innk._ My Stove won't hold such Company. + +_Con._ What, will you thrust us out of Doors then? It may be we shall be +devour'd by Wolves to Night. + +_Innk._ Neither Wolves nor Dogs will prey upon their own Kind. + +_Con._ If you do so you will be more cruel than the _Turks_. Let us be +what we will, we are Men. + +_Innk._ I have lost my Hearing. + +_Con._ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the +Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if +the Wolves should not devour us? + +_Innk._ _Adam_ liv'd so in Paradise. + +_Con._ He did so, but then he was innocent. + +_Innk._ And so am I innocent. + +_Con._ Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you +thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into +his. + +_Innk._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Wife._ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by +this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good +Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't. + +_Innk._ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the +Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman; +Good Men! + +_Wife._ Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often +you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At +least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't +thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when +you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and +Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors? + +_Innk._ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind +your Kitchen. + +_Wife._ Well, so I will. + +_Bert._ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope all +will be well by and by. + +_Con._ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that no +Guests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had. + +_Bert._ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine from +the last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for what +I see here, he would not have given us so much as a Mouthful of Hay. + +_Con._ Now the Servants are set down, let's take Part of the Table with +them, but so that we don't incommode any Body. + +_Innk._ I believe I may put it to your Score, that I have not a Guest to +Day, nor any besides my own Family, and you good-for-nothing ones. + +_Con._ Well, put it up to our Score, if it has not happened to you +often. + +_Innk._ Oftner than I would have it so. + +_Con._ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake his +Servants. + +_Innk._ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospel +forbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have great +Sleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, and +Flesh also, and that of the best Sort. + +_Con._ Take Part with us, if you please. + +_Innk._ My Wine is Hog-Wash to it. + +_Con._ Eat some of the Flesh, there is more than enough for us. + +_Innk._ O happy Beggars! My Wife has dress'd nothing to Day, but +Coleworts and a little rusty Bacon. + +_Con._ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us what +we eat. + +_Innk._ Then why don't you carry with you Coleworts and dead Wine? + +_Con._ Because the People where we din'd to Day would needs force this +upon us. + +_Innk._ Did your Dinner cost you nothing? + +_Con._ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us these +Things to carry along with us. + +_Innk._ From whence did you come? + +_Con._ From _Basil._ + +_Innk._ Whoo! what so far? + +_Con._ Yes. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Fellows are you that ramble about thus without +Horses, Money, Servants, Arms, or Provisions? + +_Con._ You see in us some Footsteps of the evangelical Life. + +_Innk._ It seems to me to be the Life of Vagabonds, that stroll about +with Budgets. + +_Con._ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesus +himself. + +_Innk._ Can you tell Fortunes? + +_Con._ Nothing less. + +_Innk._ How do you live then? + +_Con._ By him, who hath promised. + +_Innk._ Who is he? + +_Con._ He that said, _Take no Care, but all Things shall be added unto +you_. + +_Innk._ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom of +God._ + +_Con._ That we do with all our Might. + +_Innk._ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, so +that it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no such +Thing. + +_Con._ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matter +requir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for the +Conviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but a +religious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick than +to be well, and more happy to die than to live. + +_Innk._ What do you do then? + +_Con._ That we can; every Man according to the Talent that God has given +him. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunity +offers, sometimes we preach, if we any where find Pastors that are dumb: +And if we find no Opportunity of doing Good, we take Care to do no Body +any Harm, either by our Manners or our Words. + +_Innk._ I wish you would preach for us to Morrow, for it is a Holy-Day. + +_Con._ For what Saint? + +_Innk._ To St. _Antony._ + +_Con._ He was indeed a good Man. But how came he to have a Holiday? + +_Innk._ I'll tell you. This Town abounds with Swine-Herds, by Reason of +a large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People have +an Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and therefore +they worship him, for Fear he should grow angry, if they neglect him. + +_Con._ I wish they would worship him as they ought to do. + +_Innk._ How's that? + +_Con._ Whosoever imitates the Saints in their Lives, worships as he +ought to do. + +_Innk._ To-morrow the Town will ring again with Drinking and Dancing, +Playing, Scolding and Boxing. + +_Con._ After this Manner the Heathens once worshipped their _Bacchus_. +But I wonder, if this is their Way of worshipping, that St. _Antony_ is +not enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogs +themselves. What Sort of a Pastor have you? A dumb one, or a wicked one? + +_Innk._ What he is to other People, I don't know: But he's a very good +one to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings more +Customers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not here +now. + +_Con._ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for our +Turn. + +_Innk._ What! Did you go to him then? + +_Con._ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us away +from the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither. + +_Innk._ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come because +he knew you were to be here. + +_Con._ Is he a dumb one? + +_Innk._ A dumb one! There's no Body is more noisy in the Stove, and he +makes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Need +of more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that he +is none of the dumb Ones. + +_Con._ Is he a learned Divine? + +_Innk._ He says he is a very great Scholar; but what he knows is what +he has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful to +let others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you in +short; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears its +own Cover_. + +_Con._ It may be he will not give a Man Liberty to preach in his Place. + +_Innk._ Yes, I'll undertake he will, but upon this Condition, that you +don't have any Flirts at him, as it is a common Practice for you to do. + +_Con._ They have us'd themselves to an ill Custom that do so. If a +Pastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is the +Bishop's Business. + +_Innk._ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Men +yourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? For +a great many People take you to be ill Men by your Dress. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ I can't tell, except it be that they find a great many of you to +be so. + +_Con._ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear this +Habit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to be +good Men by our Habit, than they that take us for base Men. + +_Innk._ Well, so let it be. But what is the Advantage of so many +different Dresses? + +_Con._ What is your Opinion? + +_Innk._ Why I see no Advantage at all, except in Processions, or War. +For in Processions there are carried about various Representations of +Saints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by the +different Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that every +one may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that there +may be no Confusion in the Army. + +_Con._ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us follows +one Leader, and another another; but we all fight under one General, +Christ. But in a Garment there are three Things to be consider'd. + +_Innk._ What are they? + +_Con._ Necessity, Use, and Decency. Why do we eat? + +_Innk._ That we mayn't be starv'd with Hunger. + +_Con._ And for the very same Reason we take a Garment that we mayn't be +starv'd with Cold. + +_Innk._ I confess it. + +_Con._ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers the +Head, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Use +requires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a long +one for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one in +Winter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Times +a Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon they +take a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; but +every one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment of +ours is contriv'd so, that this one will serve for various Uses. + +_Innk._ How is that? + +_Con._ If the North Wind blow, or the Sun shines hot, we put on our +Cowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are to +sit still, we let down our Garment about our Heels, if we are to walk, +we hold or tuck it up. + +_Innk._ He was no Fool, whosoever he was, that contriv'd it. + +_Con._ And it is the chief Thing in living happily, for a Man to +accustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we begin +to indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be no +End; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer so +many Purposes. + +_Innk._ I allow that. + +_Con._ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, if +you should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that you +acted indecently? + +_Innk._ They would say I was mad. + +_Con._ And what would you say, if she should put on your Cloaths? + +_Innk._ I should not say much perhaps, but I should cudgel her +handsomly. + +_Con._ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any one +wears? + +_Innk._ O yes, in this Case it is very material. + +_Con._ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict a +Punishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of a +different Sex. + +_Innk._ And they are in the Right for it. + +_Con._ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dress +himself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like an +old Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if an +old Woman should attire herself like a young Girl, and the contrary? + +_Innk._ No doubt. + +_Con._ In like Manner, if a Lay-Man should wear a Priest's Habit, and a +Priest a Lay-Man's. + +_Innk._ They would both act unbecomingly. + +_Con._ What if a private Man should put on the Habit of a Prince, or an +inferior Clergy-Man that of a Bishop? Would he act unhandsomely or no? + +_Innk._ Certainly he would. + +_Con._ What if a Citizen should dress himself like a Soldier, with a +Feather in his Cap, and other Accoutrements of a hectoring Soldier? + +_Innk._ He would be laugh'd at. + +_Con._ What if any _English_ Ensign should carry a white Cross in his +Colours, a _Swiss_ a red one, a _French_ Man a black one? + +_Innk._ He would act impudently. + +_Con._ Why then do you wonder so much at our Habit? + +_Innk._ I know the Difference between a private Man and a Prince, +between a Man and a Woman; but I don't understand the Difference between +a Monk and no Monk. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a poor Man and a rich Man? + +_Innk._ Fortune. + +_Con._ And yet it would be unbecoming a poor Man to imitate a rich Man +in his Dress. + +_Innk._ Very true, as rich Men go now a-Days. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a Fool and a wise Man? + +_Innk._ Something more than there is between a rich Man and a poor Man. + +_Con._ Are not Fools dress'd up in a different Manner from wise Men? + +_Innk._ I can't tell how well it becomes you, but your Habit does not +differ much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells. + +_Con._ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, if +we really are what we pretend to be. + +_Innk._ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are a +great many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than those +that wear Caps lin'd with Furs, Hoods, and other Ensigns of wise Men; +therefore it seems a ridiculous Thing to me to make a Shew of Wisdom by +the Dress rather than in Fact. I saw a certain Man, more than a Fool, +with a Gown hanging down to his Heels, a Cap like our Doctors, and had +the Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew of +Gravity, and he was as much made on by great Men, as any of their Fools, +and was more a Fool than any of them. + +_Con._ Well, what would you infer from that? That a Prince who laughs at +his Jester should change Coats with him? + +_Innk._ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Proposition +be true, that the Mind of a Man is represented by his Habit. + +_Con._ You press this upon me indeed, but I am still of the Opinion, +that there is good Reason for giving Fools distinct Habits. + +_Innk._ What Reason? + +_Con._ That no Body might hurt them, if they say or do any Thing that's +foolish. + +_Innk._ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does rather +provoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Fools +they become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores a +Man, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and a +Fool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under the +Protection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you are +distinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause is +sufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear a +different Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, an +Apothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if you +are Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? If +you are Laymen, why do you differ from us? + +_Con._ In antient Times, Monks were only the purer Sort of the Laity, +and there was then only the same Difference between a Monk and a Layman, +as between a frugal, honest Man, that maintains his Family by his +Industry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwards +the Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gave +some Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, or +sacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not been +ashamed to wear it. + +_Innk._ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that? + +_Con._ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimes +from Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think it +ridiculous for a Man to wear a Bull's Hide, with the Horns on his Head, +and the Tail trailing after him on the Ground? + +_Innk._ That would be ridiculous enough. + +_Con._ Again, if any one should wear a Garment that should hide his +Face, and his Hands, and shew his privy Members? + +_Innk._ That would be more ridiculous than the other. + +_Con._ The very Pagan Writers have taken Notice of them that have wore +Cloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wear +such. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, than +to wear a transparent Garment. + +_Innk._ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends upon +Custom and the Opinion of People. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at my +House, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries lately +discovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they came +to an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as the +greatest Indecency in the World, to cover their Bodies. + +_Con._ It may be they liv'd like Beasts. + +_Innk._ Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd +under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not +above an Hour in a Day. + +_Con._ What Work did they do? + +_Innk._ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead +of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when +this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind +to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish +Vices, but none more severely than Adultery. + +_Con._ What's the Punishment? + +_Innk._ They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But for +Men that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all his +Life after, he should appear in publick with his privy Parts covered. + +_Con._ A mighty Punishment indeed! + +_Innk._ Custom has made it to them the very greatest Punishment that is. + +_Con._ When I consider the Force of Persuasion, I am almost ready to +allow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to the +greatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off a +Piece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf's +Skin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair of +Stockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of a +Net, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side of +his Beard, and leave the other hanging down, and curl one Part of it, +and to put him a Cap on his Head, cut and slash'd, with a huge Plume of +Feathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him more +ridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? And +yet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are well +enough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like the +Dress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous. + +_Innk._ Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much as +they can possibly. + +_Con._ But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers like +an _Indian_, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a mad +Man? + +_Innk._ Stark mad. + +_Con._ And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madness +still: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom will +bear it out; so it cannot be denied, but that there is a certain +_Decorum_ in Garments, which all wise Men always account a _Decorum_; +and that there is also an Unbecomingness in Garments, which will to wise +Men always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Woman +dragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to be +measured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are not +asham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thing +is Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has once +obtain'd. + +_Innk._ Well, we have had Talk enough about Custom: But tell me now, +whether you think it better for Monks to differ from others in Habit, or +not to differ? + +_Con._ I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not to +judge of any Man by his Habit, if it be but sober and decent. + +_Innk._ Why don't you cast away your Cowls then? + +_Con._ Why did not the Apostles presently eat of all Sorts of Meat? + +_Innk._ I can't tell. Do you tell me that. + +_Con._ Because an invincible Custom hinder'd it: For whatsoever is +deeply rooted in the Minds of Men, and has been confirm'd by long Use, +and is turn'd as it were into Nature, can never be remov'd on a sudden, +without endangering the publick Peace; but must be remov'd by Degrees, +as a Horse's Tail is pluck'd off by single Hairs. + +_Innk._ I could bear well enough with it, if the Monks had all but one +Habit: But who can bear so many different Habits? + +_Con._ Custom has brought in this Evil, which brings in every Thing. +_Benedict_ did not invent a new Habit, but the same that he wore himself +and his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman: +Neither did _Francis_ invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poor +Country-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it into +Superstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to the +Dress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now in +Fashion, than my Dress is from yours? + +_Innk._ We do see it. + +_Con._ Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques of +antient Times. + +_Innk._ Why then, has your Garment no Holiness in it? + +_Con._ None at all. + +_Innk._ There are some of you that make their Boasts that these Dresses +were divinely directed by the holy Virgin Mother. + +_Con._ These Stories are but meer Dreams. + +_Innk._ Some despair of being able to recover from a Fit of Sickness, +unless they be wrapp'd up in a Dominican's Habit: Nay, nor won't be +buried but in a Franciscan's Habit. + +_Con._ They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats or +Fools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know a +wicked Man as well in a Franciscan's Habit, as in a Soldier's Coat. + +_Innk._ There is not so much Variety in the Feathers of Birds of the +Air, as there is in your Habits. + +_Con._ What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But it +is a better Thing to out-do it. + +_Innk._ I wish you would out-do it in the Variety of your Beaks too. + +_Con._ But, come on. I will be an Advocate for Variety, if you will give +me Leave. Is not a _Spaniard_ dressed after one Fashion, an _Italian_ +after another, a _Frenchman_ after another, a _German_ after another, a +_Greek_ after another, a _Turk_ after another, and a _Sarazen_ after +another? + +_Innk._ Yes. + +_Con._ And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is there +in Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dress +of the _Venetian_ from the _Florentine_, and of both from the _Roman_, +and this only within _Italy_ alone? + +_Innk._ I believe it. + +_Con._ And from hence also came our Variety. _Dominic_ he took his Dress +from the honest Ploughmen in that Part of _Spain_ in which he liv'd; and +_Benedict_ from the Country-Fellows of that Part of _Italy_ in which he +liv'd; and _Francis_ from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and so +for the rest. + +_Innk._ So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless you +live holier. + +_Con._ Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we are +a greater Stumbling to the Simple. + +_Innk._ Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, nor +Habit, nor Rule, nor Profession? + +_Con._ Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfathers +what you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you want +a human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do you +want a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Consider +what you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and you +will find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professed +the Rule of _Francis_. + +_Innk._ Do you believe that any Inn-Keepers go to Heaven? + +_Con._ Why not? + +_Innk._ There are a great many Things said and done in this House, that +are not according to the Gospel. + +_Con._ What are they? + +_Innk._ One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and another +slanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselves +honest or not. + +_Con._ You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if you +cannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or draw +on these Wickednesses. + +_Innk._ Sometimes I don't deal very honestly as to my Wine. + +_Con._ Wherein? + +_Innk._ When I find my Guests grow a little too hot, I put more Water +into the Wine. + +_Con._ That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up with +unwholsome Ingredients. + +_Innk._ But tell me truly, how many Days have you been in this Journey? + +_Con._ Almost a Month. + +_Innk._ Who takes Care of you all the While? + +_Con._ Are not they taken Care enough of, that have a Wife, and +Children, and Parents, and Kindred? + +_Innk._ Oftentimes. + +_Con._ You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but one +Father, we have an hundred; you have but one House, we have an hundred; +you have but a few Children, we have an innumerable Company; you have +but a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number. + +_Innk._ How so? + +_Con._ Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than the +Kindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience the +Truth of what he has promised. + +_Innk._ In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if I +don't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do us +the Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen to +come this Way again, know that here's a Lodging for you. + +_Con._ But what if others should come? + +_Innk._ They shall be welcome, if they be but such as you. + +_Con._ I hope they will be better. + +_Innk._ But among so many bad ones, how shall I know which are good? + +_Con._ I'll tell you in a few Words, but in your Ear. + +_Innk._ Tell me. + +_Con._--------- + +_Innk._ I'll remember it, and do it. + + + + +_The ABBOT and LEARNED WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A certain Abbot paying a Visit to a Lady, finds her + reading_ Greek _and_ Latin _Authors. A Dispute arises, + whence Pleasantness of Life proceeds:_ viz. _Not from + external Enjoyments, but from the Study of Wisdom. An + ignorant Abbot will by no Means have his Monks to be + learned; nor has he himself so much as a single Book in + his Closet. Pious Women in old Times gave their Minds to + the Study of the Scriptures; but Monks that hate + Learning, and give themselves up to Luxury, Idleness, and + Hunting, are provok'd to apply themselves to other Kinds + of Studies, more becoming their Profession._ + + +ANTRONIUS, MAGDALIA. + +_Ant._ What Sort of Houshold-Stuff do I see? + +_Mag._ Is it not that which is neat? + +_Ant._ How neat it is, I can't tell, but I'm sure, it is not very +becoming, either a Maid or a Matron. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because here's Books lying about every where. + +_Mag._ What have you liv'd to this Age, and are both an Abbot and a +Courtier, and never saw any Books in a Lady's Apartment? + +_Ant._ Yes, I have seen Books, but they were _French_; but here I see +_Greek_ and _Latin_ ones. + +_Mag._ Why, are there no other Books but _French_ ones that teach +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ But it becomes Ladies to have something that is diverting, to +pass away their leisure Hours. + +_Mag._ Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly? + +_Ant._ You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantly +together: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is Ladies +Business. + +_Mag._ Ought not every one to live well? + +_Ant._ I am of Opinion, they ought so to do. + +_Mag._ Well, can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does not live a +good Life. + +_Ant._ Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does +live a good Life? + +_Mag._ Why then, do you approve of living illy, if it be but pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I am of the Opinion, that they live a good Life, that live a +pleasant Life. + +_Mag._ Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outward +Things, or from the Mind? + +_Ant._ From outward Things. + +_Mag._ O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me in +what you suppose a pleasant Life to consist? + +_Ant._ Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what you +please, in Wealth, and in Honours. + +_Mag._ But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should you +live pleasantly then? + +_Ant._ What is it that you call by the Name of Wisdom? + +_Mag._ This is Wisdom, to know that a Man is only happy by the Goods of +the Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happier +or better. + +_Ant._ If that be Wisdom, fare it well for me. + +_Mag._ Suppose now that I take more Pleasure in reading a good Author, +than you do in Hunting, Drinking, or Gaming; won't you think I live +pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I would not live that Sort of Life. + +_Mag._ I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is it +that ought to be most delighted in? + +_Ant._ I would not have my Monks mind Books much. + +_Mag._ But my Husband approves very well of it. But what Reason have +you, why you would not have your Monks bookish? + +_Ant._ Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out of +the Decrees and Decretals of _Peter_ and _Paul._ + +_Mag._ Why then do you command them the contrary to what _Peter_ and +_Paul_ did? + +_Ant._ I can't tell what they teach; but I can't endure a Monk that +answers again: Nor would I have any of my Monks wiser than I am myself. + +_Mag._ You might prevent that well enough, if you did but lay yourself +out, to get as much Wisdom as you can. + +_Ant._ I han't Leisure. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because I han't Time. + +_Mag._ What, not at Leisure to be wise? + +_Ant._ No. + +_Mag._ Pray what hinders you? + +_Ant._ Long Prayers, the Affairs of my Houshold, Hunting, looking after +my Horses, attending at Court. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you think these Things are better than Wisdom? + +_Ant._ Custom has made it so. + +_Mag._ Well, but now answer me this one Thing: Suppose God should grant +you this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sort +of Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, and +yourself into a Horse? + +_Ant._ No, by no Means. + +_Mag._ By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser than +yourself? + +_Ant._ It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, if +I am but a Man myself. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither has +Wisdom, nor desires to have it? + +_Ant._ I am wise enough for myself. + +_Mag._ And so are Hogs wise enough for themselves. + +_Ant._ You seem to be a Sophistress, you argue so smartly. + +_Mag._ I won't tell you what you seem to me to be. But why does this +Houshold-Stuff displease you? + +_Ant._ Because a Spinning-Wheel is a Woman's Weapon. + +_Mag._ Is it not a Woman's Business to mind the Affairs of her Family, +and to instruct her Children? + +_Ant._ Yes, it is. + +_Mag._ And do you think so weighty an Office can be executed without +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ I believe not. + +_Mag._ This Wisdom I learn from Books. + +_Ant._ I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will not +see one Book in my Chamber. + +_Mag._ The Monks are finely look'd after all this While. + +_Ant._ I could dispense with Books; but I can't bear _Latin_ Books. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because that Tongue is not fit for a Woman. + +_Mag._ I want to know the Reason. + +_Ant._ Because it contributes nothing towards the Defence of their +Chastity. + +_Mag._ Why then do _French_ Books that are stuff'd with the most +trifling Novels, contribute to Chastity? + +_Ant._ But there is another Reason. + +_Mag._ Let it be what it will, tell me it plainly. + +_Ant._ They are more secure from the Priests, if they don't understand +_Latin_. + +_Mag._ Nay, there's the least Danger from that Quarter according to your +Way of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know any +Thing of _Latin_. + +_Ant._ The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rare +unusual Thing for a Woman to understand _Latin._ + +_Mag._ What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worst +Examples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do with +Custom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought to +accustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which was +uncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant would +become pleasant; and that which seemed unbecoming would look graceful. + +_Ant._ I hear you. + +_Mag._ Is it becoming a _German_ Woman to learn to speak _French_. + +_Ant._ Yes it is. + +_Mag._ Why is it? + +_Ant._ Because then she will be able to converse with those that speak +_French_. + +_Mag._ And why then is it unbecoming in me to learn _Latin_, that I may +be able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned and +wise Authors, and faithful Counsellors? + +_Ant._ Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough of +themselves. + +_Mag._ What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as for +myself, let me have never so little, I had rather spend them in Study, +than in Prayers mumbled over without the Heart going along with them, or +sitting whole Nights in quaffing off Bumpers. + +_Ant._ Bookishness makes Folks mad. + +_Mag._ And does not the Rattle of your Pot-Companions, your Banterers, +and Drolls, make you mad? + +_Ant._ No, they pass the Time away. + +_Mag._ How can it be then, that such pleasant Companions should make me +mad? + +_Ant._ That's the common Saying. + +_Mag._ But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do we +see grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up all +Night tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has made +People mad? + +_Ant._ By my Faith, I would not have a learned Wife. + +_Mag._ But I bless myself, that I have gotten a Husband that is not +like yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him. + +_Ant._ Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all we +must die. + +_Mag._ Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, had +you rather die a Fool or a wise Man? + +_Ant._ Why, a wise Man, if I could come at it without taking Pains. + +_Mag._ But there is nothing to be attained in this Life without Pains; +and yet, let us get what we will, and what Pains soever we are at to +attain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much to +be at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of which +will bear us Company unto another Life. + +_Ant._ I have often heard it said, that a wise Woman is twice a Fool. + +_Mag._ That indeed has been often said; but it was by Fools. A Woman +that is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, one +that knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twice +a Fool. + +_Ant._ I can't well tell how it is, that as Panniers don't become an Ox, +so neither does Learning become a Woman. + +_Mag._ But, I suppose, you can't deny but Panniers will look better upon +an Ox, than a Mitre upon an Ass or a Sow. What think you of the Virgin +_Mary_? + +_Ant._ Very highly. + +_Mag._ Was not she bookish? + +_Ant._ Yes; but not as to such Books as these. + +_Mag._ What Books did she read? + +_Ant._ The canonical Hours. + +_Mag._ For the Use of whom? + +_Ant._ Of the Order of _Benedictines_. + +_Mag._ Indeed? What did _Paula_ and _Eustochium_ do? Did not they +converse with the holy Scriptures? + +_Ant._ Ay, but this is a rare Thing now. + +_Mag._ So was a blockheaded Abbot in old Time; but now nothing is more +common. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learning +as for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity as +you think it. There are both in _Spain_ and _Italy_ not a few Women, +that are able to vye with the Men, and there are the _Morites_ in +_England_, and the _Bilibald-duks_ and _Blaureticks_ in _Germany_. So +that unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, that +we shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in the +Churches, and take Possession of your Mitres. + +_Ant._ God forbid. + +_Mag._ Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as you +have begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure you +a Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, and +you must either lay aside your Dress, or perform your Part. + +_Ant._ How came I to fall into this Woman's Company? If you'll come to +see me, I'll treat you more pleasantly. + +_Mag._ After what Manner? + +_Ant._ Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, and +laugh. + +_Mag._ I can hardly forbear laughing now. + + + + +_The EPITHALAMIUM of PETRUS ÆGIDIUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Muses and Graces are brought in, as singing the + Epithalamium of_ Peter Ægidius. Alipius _spies the nine + Muses, and the three Graces coming out of a Grove, which_ + Balbinus _can't see: They take their Way to_ Antwerp, _to + the Wedding of_ Ægidius, _to whom they wish all joy, that + nothing of Difference or Uneasiness may ever arise + between 'em. How those Marriages prove that are made, the + Graces not favouring 'em. Congratulatory Verses._ + + +ALIPIUS, BALBINUS, MUSÆ. + +_Al._ Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here? + +_Ba._ Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which +is to be seen. + +_Al._ Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight. + +_Ba._ Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it. + +_Al._ Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill. + +_Ba._ I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else. + +_Al._ No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there? + +_Ba._ What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a +bit of a Maid any where. + +_Al._ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How +neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight. + +_Ba._ What! Are you possess'd? + +_Al._ Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three +Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em +more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of +'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of +Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How +becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing +and trailing after 'em. + +_Ba._ I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days, +than you do. + +_Al._ You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time. + +_Ba._ Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't? + +_Al._ Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body +can see 'em but they that have. + +_Ba._ I have drank plentifully out of _Scotus's_ Fountain. + +_Al._ But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs. + +_Ba._ But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as +you? + +_Al._ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear +Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable +of such Sights as these. + +_Ba._ Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too. + +_Al._ Is there? That's clever, I vow. + +_Ba._ But prithee, sprinkle me with it. + +_Al._ Now look, do you see now? + +_Ba._ As much as I did before. Sprinkle me again. + +_Al._ Well, now do you see? + +_Ba._ Just as much; sprinkle me plentifully. + +_Al._ I believe you can't but see now. + +_Ba._ Now I can scarce see you. + +_Al._ Ah poor Man, how total a Darkness has seized your Eyes! This Art +would open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plague +yourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest you +should come off as ill by seeing the Muses, as _Actæon_ did by seeing +_Diana_: For you'd perhaps be in Danger of being turn'd either into a +Hedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. But +however, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make a +Noise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, most +welcome Goddesses. + +_Mu._ And you heartily, Lover of the Muses. + +_Al._ What makes you pull me so? + +_Ba._ You an't as good as your Word. + +_Al._ Why don't you hear 'em? + +_Ba._ I hear somewhat, but I don't know what it is. + +_Al._ Well, I'll speak _Latin_ to 'em then. Whither are you going so +fine and so brisk? Are you going to _Louvain_ to see the University? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we won't go thither. + +_Al._ Why not? + +_Mu._ What Place is for us, where so many Hogs are grunting, Camels and +Asses braying, Jackdaws cawing, and Magpies chattering? + +_Al._ But for all that, there are some there that are your Admirers. + +_Mu._ We know that, and therefore we'll go thither a few Years hence. +The successive Period of Ages has not yet brought on that Time; for +there will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or a +Temple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred any +where else. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour to +our Country? + +_Mu._ You may know it, that are one of our Priests. There's no doubt, +but you have heard the Name of the _Buslidians_, famous all the World +over. + +_Al._ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palaces +of the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere the +great _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, who +has approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Son +of _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be a +greater Man than his Father? + +_Mu._ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth the +Happiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberal +Studies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left two +brothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_. + +_Al._ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'd +with all Manner of Literature, and adorn'd with every Kind of Virtue. + +_Mu._ But the Destinies won't suffer him to be long-liv'd neither, +though no Man in the World better deserves to be immortaliz'd. + +_Al._ How do you know that? + +_Mu._ We had it from _Apollo_. + +_Al._ How envious are the Destinies, to take from us all desirable +Things so hastily! + +_Mu._ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dying +with great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of a +College at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teach +publickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring a +great Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'll +reside at _Louvain_, with all our Hearts. + +_Al._ But whither are you going now? + +_Mu._ To _Antwerp_. + +_Al._ What, the Muses and Graces going to a Fair? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we are not going to a Fair; but to a Wedding. + +_Al._ What have Virgins to do at Weddings? + +_Mu._ 'Tis no indecent Thing at all, for Virgins to be at such a Wedding +as this is. + +_Al._ Pray what Sort of a Marriage is it? + +_Mu._ A holy, undefiled, and chaste Marriage, such a one as _Pallas_ +herself need not be asham'd to be at: Nay, more than that, we believe +she will be at it. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know the Bride and Bridegroom's Name? + +_Mu._ We believe you must needs know that most courteous and +accomplish'd Youth in all Kinds of polite Learning, _Peter Ægidius_. + +_Al._ You have named an Angel, not a Man. + +_Mu._ The pretty Maid _Cornelia_, a fit Match for _Apollo_ himself, is +going to be married to _Ægidius_. + +_Al._ Indeed he has been a great Admirer of you, even from his Infancy. + +_Mu._ We are going to sing him an Epithalamium. + +_Al._ What, and will the Graces dance too? + +_Mu._ They will not only dance, but they will also unite those two true +Lovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that no +Difference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall never +hear any Thing from him, but my Life; nor he from her, but my Soul: Nay: +and even old Age itself, shall be so far from diminishing that, that it +shall increase the Pleasure. + +_Al._ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could ever +be able to grow old. + +_Mu._ You say very right, for it is rather a Maturity, than an old Age. + +_Al._ But I have known a great many, to whom these kind Words have been +chang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; and +instead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flown +about. The Husband, instead of my dear Soul, has been call'd Blockhead, +Toss-Pot, Swill-Tub; and the Wife, Sow, Fool, dirty Drab. + +_Mu._ You say very true; but these Marriages were made when the Graces +were out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper will +always maintain a mutual Affection. + +_Al._ Indeed you speak of such a happy Marriage as is very seldom seen. + +_Mu._ An uncommon Felicity is due to such uncommon Virtues. + +_Al._ But what! Will the Matrimony be without _Juno_ and _Venus_? + +_Mu._ Indeed _Juno_ won't be there, she's a scolding Goddess, and is but +seldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthly +drunken _Venus_; but another heavenly one, which makes a Union of Minds. + +_Al._ Then the Marriage you speak of, is like to be a barren one. + +_Mu._ No, by no Means, but rather like to be the most happily fruitful. + +_Al._ What, does that heavenly _Venus_ produce any Thing but Souls then? + +_Mu._ Yes, she gives Bodies to the Souls; but such Bodies, as shall be +exactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choice +Ointment into a curious Box of Pearl. + +_Al._ Where is she then? + +_Mu._ Look, she is coming towards you, a pretty Way off. + +_Al._ Oh! I see her now. O good God, how bright she is! How majestical +and beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is a +homely one. + +_Mu._ Do you see what modest _Cupids_ there are; they are no blind ones, +such as that _Venus_ has, that makes Mankind mad? But these are sharp +little Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentle +Fires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate the +Lover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocal +Affection. + +_Al._ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's a +blessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hear +the Marriage-Song that you design to present 'em with? + +_Mu._ Nay, we were just a-going to ask you to hear it. + +CLIO. +Peter _hath married fair_ Cornelia, _Propitious Heaven! bless +the Wedding-Day._ + +MELPOMENE. +_Concord of_ Turtle-Doves _between them be, And of the_ +Jack-daw _the Vivacity_. + +THALIA. +_From_ Gracchus _may he win the Prize, And for_ Cornelia's +_Life, his own despise._ + +EUTERPE. +_May she in Love exceed_ Admetus' _Wife, Who laid her own +down, for her Husband's Life._ + +TERPSICHORE. +_May he love her with stronger Flame, But much more +happy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'd +Mate._ + +ERATO. +_May she love him with no less Flame, But with much better +Fate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate._ + +CALLIOPE. +_For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to the +famous_ Nasica. + +URANIA. +_The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be._ + +POLYHYMNIA. +_May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equal +their Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on them +wait._ + + +_Al._ I should very much envy _Peter Ægidius_ so much Happiness, but +that he is a Man of such Candour, that he himself envies no Body. + +_Mu._ It is now high Time for us to prosecute our Journey. + +_Al._ Have you any Service to command me at _Louvain_? + +_Mu._ That thou wouldst recommend us to all our sincere loving Friends; +but especially to our antient Admirers. _John Paludus, Jodocus Gaverius, +Martin Dorpius_, and _John Borsalus._ + +_Al._ Well, I'll be sure to take Care to do your Message. What shall I +say to the rest? + +_Mu._ I'll tell you in your Ear. + +_Al._ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainly +be done out of Hand. + + + + +_The EXORCISM or APPARITION._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy detects the Artifices of Impostors, who + impose upon the credulous and simple, framing Stories of + Apparitions of Daemons and Ghosts, and divine Voices._ + Polus _is the Author of a Rumour, that an Apparition of a + certain Soul was heard in his Grounds, howling after a + lamentable Manner: At another Place he pretends to see a + Dragon in the Air, in the middle of the Day, and + persuades other Persons that they saw it too; and he + prevails upon_ Faunus, _a Parish-Priest of a neighbouring + Town, to make Trial of the Truth of the Matters, who + consents to do it, and prepares Exorcisms._ Polus _gets + upon a black Horse, throws Fire about, and with divers + Tricks deceives credulous_ Faunus, _and other Men of none + of the deepest Penetration._ + + +THOMAS _and_ ANSELM. + +_Tho._ What good News have you had, that you laugh to yourself thus, as +if you had found a Treasure? + +_Ans._ Nay, you are not far from the Matter. + +_Tho._ But won't you impart it to your Companion, what good Thing soever +it is? + +_Ans._ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebody +to communicate my Merriment to. + +_Tho._ Come on then, let's have it. + +_Ans._ I was just now told the pleasantest Story, which you'd swear was +a Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, as +well as you know me. + +_Tho._ I'm with Child to hear it. + +_Ans._ Do you know _Polus, Faunus_'s Son-in-Law? + +_Tho._ Perfectly well. + +_Ans._ He's both the Contriver and Actor of this Play. + +_Tho._ I am apt enough to believe that; for he can Act any Part to the +Life. + +_Ans._ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not far +from _London_. + +_Tho._ Phoo, very well; he and I have drank together many a Time there. + +_Ans._ Then you know there is a Way between two straight Rows of Trees. + +_Tho._ Upon the left Hand, about two Flight Shot from the House? + +_Ans._ You have it. On one Side of the Way there is a dry Ditch, +overgrown with Thorns and Brambles; and then there's a Way that leads +into an open Field from a little Bridge. + +_Tho._ I remember it. + +_Ans._ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, of +a Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that were +every now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul of +somebody that was miserably tormented. + +_Tho._ Who was it that raised this Report? + +_Ans._ Who but _Polus_, that made this the Prologue to his Comedy. + +_Tho._ What did he mean by inventing such a Flam? + +_Ans._ I know nothing; but that it is the Humour of the Man, he takes +Delight to make himself Sport, by playing upon the Simplicity of People, +by such Fictions as these. I'll tell you what he did lately of the same +Kind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of the +Company were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was a +wonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there. +_Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breast +with the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to an +Air of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! They +that rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell again +to signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, says +he, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring to +know what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointing +with his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, that +monstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in a +Circle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, every +now and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he might +not seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation of +him, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they could +not see what was so plain to be seen: And in short, in three Days Time, +the Rumour of this portentous Apparition had spread all over _England_. +And it is wonderful to think how popular Fame had amplified the Story, +and some pretended seriously to expound to what this Portent did +predict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mighty +Pleasure in the Folly of these People. + +_Tho._ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of the +Apparition. + +_Ans._ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in +_Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they add +the same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, this +Man thought himself wiser than is common, especially in holy Matters) +came very opportunely to pay a Visit to _Polus_. + +_Tho._ I understand the Matter: There is one found out to be an Actor in +this Play. + +_Ans._ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of this +Apparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heard +of the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as he +was a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poor +Soul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in any +Doubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walk +near that Bridge about ten a-Clock, and you shall hear miserable Cries; +take who you will for a Companion along with you, and so you will hear +both more safely and better. + +_Tho._ Well, what then? + +_Ans._ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Hunting +or Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away all +Opportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walks +about, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himself +in a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, by +speaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow of +it, gave it a most mournful Sound. + +_Tho._ This Story, as far as I see, out-does _Menander's Phasma_. + +_Ans._ You'll say more, if you shall hear it out. _Faunus_ goes Home, +being impatient to tell what he had heard. _Polus_ taking a shorter Way, +had got Home before him. _Faunus_ up and tells _Polus_ all that past, +and added something of his own to it, to make the Matter more wonderful. + +_Tho._ Could _Polus_ keep his Countenance in the mean Time? + +_Ans._ He keep his Countenance! He has his Countenance in his Hand, you +would have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End +_Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes the +Business of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, in +contriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, for +he was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the most +powerful Exorcisms that he could get, and added some new ones to them, +as the Bowels of the Virgin _Mary_, and the Bones of St. _Winifred_. +After that, he makes Choice of a Place in the plain Field, near the +Bramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very large +Circle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. And +all this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there a +great Vessel full of holy Water, and about his Neck he had a holy Stole +(as they call'd it) upon which hung the Beginning of the Gospel of +_John_. He had in his Pocket a little Piece of Wax, which the Bishop of +_Rome_ used to consecrate once a Year, which is commonly call'd _Agnus +Dei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselves +against evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to be +so formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be an +evil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for all +this, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined to +take some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid, +that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, the +whole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priest +there-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; and +indeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was a +Man fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being prepared +and in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priest +enter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made a +miserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and +_Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings from +thence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a great +many of them. + +_Tho._ Well, what do they do? + +_Ans._ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Fire +along with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew the +Fire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle. + +_Tho._ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat upon +People? + +_Ans._ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have been +mischievous to them. + +_Tho._ How so? + +_Ans._ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of the +Fire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End of +the first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered into +Discourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter, +enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-dæmons +appear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, and +breathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break into +the Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by the +Power and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into +_Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with great +Solemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with the +Vehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at a +pretty Distance, with their black Horses, with a most outragious Noise, +making a Feint, as if they would break into the Circle. + +_Tho._ Had they no Fire then? + +_Ans._ No, none at all; for that had lik'd to have fallen out very +unluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope over +the Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though they +were beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both the +Priest and holy Water-Pot all together. + +_Tho._ This Reward the Parish-Priest had for playing his Part? + +_Ans._ Yes, he had; and for all that, he had rather suffer this than +quit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over the +Matter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what great +Danger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evil +Spirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firm +Persuasion, that there was no Dæmon, let him be ever so mischievous or +impudent, that could possibly break into this Circle. + +_Tho._ This _Faunus_ was not far from being a Fool. + +_Ans._ You have heard nothing yet. The Comedy being thus far advanc'd, +_Polus_'s Son-in-Law comes in very good Time, for he had married +_Polus's_ eldest Daughter; he's a wonderful merry Droll, you know. + +_Tho._ Know him! Ay, I know him, that he has no Aversion for such Tricks +as these. + +_Ans._ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgent +Affair in the World, if such a Comedy were either to be seen or acted. +His Father-in-Law tells him the whole Story, and gives him his Part, +that was, to act the Ghost. He puts on a Dress, and wraps himself up in +a Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through his +Shrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Place +where this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_ +lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way off +in the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a rueful +Groaning. While _Faunus_ was adjuring the Ghost to declare who he was, +_Polus_ of a sudden leaps out of the Thicket, dress'd like a Devil, and +making a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, it +is mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, as +if he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if he +was beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holy +Water, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when this +guardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with the +Soul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that he +was the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered +_Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then they +being Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ might +deliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a long +Discourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it was +not permitted to stay to talk any longer, because its Time was come, +that it must go whither its Devil pleased to carry it; but yet promised +to come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. They +meet together again at _Polus's_ House, who was the Master of the Show. +There the Exorcist relates what was done, and tho' he added some Lies to +the Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartily +affected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, that +it was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Torments +of an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. There +happened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism. + +_Tho._ Prithee what was that? + +_Ans._ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted the +Devil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do, +break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with his +Exorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last cries +out, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with a +Wench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, it +seemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched with +this Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, and +whispered something in the Priest's Ear. _Polus_ seeing that, retires, +that he might not hear what it was not fit for him to hear. + +_Tho._ In Truth, _Polus_ was a very modest, religious Devil. + +_Ans._ He was so, otherwise he might have been blamed for not observing +a _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing him +Satisfaction. + +_Tho._ What was that? + +_Ans._ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, by +which he conjectured he had had to do with her three Times that Night. + +_Tho._ He was an irregular _Regular_. + +_Ans._ They are but Men, and this is but human Frailty. + +_Tho._ Well, proceed: what was done after this? + +_Ans._ Now _Faunus_ more couragiously advances to the very Edge of the +Circle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil's +Heart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if I +had been wise I had not given you that Caution: Many are of Opinion, +that what you have once confess'd is immediately struck out of the +Devil's Memory, that he can never be able to twit you in the Teeth for +it. + +_Tho._ What a ridiculous Conceit do you tell me of? + +_Ans._ But to draw towards a Conclusion of the Matter: This Dialogue +with the Ghost held for some Days; at last it came to this Issue: The +Exorcist asking the Soul, If there was any Way by which it might +possibly be delivered from its Torments, it answered, it might, if the +Money that it had left behind, being gotten by Cheating, should be +restored. Then, says _Faunus_, What if it were put into the Hands of +good People, to be disposed of to pious Uses? The Spirit reply'd, That +might do. The Exorcist was rejoic'd at this; he enquires particularly, +What Sum there was of it? The Spirit reply'd, That it was a vast Sum, +and might prove very good and commodious: it told the Place too where +the Treasure was hid, but it was a long Way off: And it order'd what +Uses it should be put to. + +_Tho._ What were they? + +_Ans._ That three Persons were to undertake a Pilgrimage; one to the +Threshold of St. _Peter_; another to salute St. _James_ at +_Compostella;_ and the third should kiss _Jesus'_s Comb at _Tryers_; and +after that, a vast Number of Services and Masses should be performed in +several great Monasteries; and as to the Overplus, he should dispose of +it as he pleas'd. Now _Faunus'_s Mind was fixed upon the Treasure; he +had, in a Manner, swallowed it in his Mind. + +_Tho._ That's a common Disease; but more peculiarly thrown in the +Priests Dish, upon all Occasions. + +_Ans._ After nothing had been omitted that related to the Affair of the +Money, the Exorcist being put upon it by _Polus_, began to put Questions +to the Spirit, about several Arts, as Alchymy and Magick. To these +Things the Spirit gave Answers, putting off the Resolution of these +Questions for the present, promising it would make larger Discoveries as +soon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches of +its Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be the +third Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in good +Earnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in all +Companies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things to +Monasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to the +Place, and finds the Tokens, but did not dare to dig for the Treasure, +because the Spirit had thrown this Caution in the Way, that it would be +extremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had been +performed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt out +the Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiming +his Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, and +especially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of a +prudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quite +contrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd his +Mind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, to +make him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres and +Devils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was so +pale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Sprite +than a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and would +have been so, had it not been timely prevented. + +_Tho._ Well, let this be the last Act of the Play. + +_Ans._ Well, you shall have it. _Polus_ and his Son-in-Law, hammer'd out +this Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in a +strange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such as +Gold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Form +of the Epistle was this: + +Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his gracious +Deliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _that +thou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God has +respected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, has +delivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels. +Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next to +the Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give thee +publick Thanks. In the mean Time, see that thou live merrily._ + + _From the_ Imperial Heaven, _the + Ides of_ September, _Anno_ 1498. + _Under the Seal of my own Ring._ + +This Epistle was laid privately under the Altar where _Faunus_ was to +perform divine Service: This being done, there was one appointed to +advertise him of it, as if he had found it by Chance. And now he carries +the Letter about him, and shews it as a very sacred Thing; and believes +nothing more firmly, than that it was brought from Heaven by an Angel. + +_Tho._ This is not delivering the Man from his Madness, but changing the +Sort of it. + +_Ans._ Why truly, so it is, only he is now more pleasantly mad than +before. + +_Tho._ I never was wont to give much Credit to Stories of Apparitions in +common; but for the Time to come, I shall give much less: For I believe +that many Things that have been printed and published, as true +Relations, were only by Artifice and Imposture, Impositions upon +credulous Persons, and such as _Faunus._ + +_Ans._ And I also believe that a great many of them are of the same +Kind. + + + + +_The ALCHYMIST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the Dotage of an old Man, otherwise + a very prudent Person, upon this Art; being trick'd by a + Priest, under Pretence of a two-Fold Method in this Art, + the_ long Way _and the_ short Way. _By the long Way he + puts an egregious Cheat upon old_ Balbinus: _The + Alchymist lays the Fault upon his Coals and Glasses. + Presents of Gold are sent to the Virgin_ Mary, _that she + would assist them in their Undertakings. Some Courtiers + having come to the Knowledge that_ Balbinus _practis'd + this unlawful Art, are brib'd. At last the Alchymist is + discharg'd, having Money given him to bear his Charges._ + + +PHILECOUS, LALUS. + +_Phi._ What News is here, that _Lalus_ laughs to himself so that he e'en +giggles again, every now and then signing himself with the Sign of the +Cross? I'll interrupt his Felicity. God bless you heartily, my very good +Friend _Lalus_; you seem to me to be very happy. + +_La._ But I shall be much happier, if I make you a Partaker of my merry +Conceitedness. + +_Phi._ Prithee, then, make me happy as soon as you can. + +_La._ Do you know _Balbinus_? + +_Phi._ What, that learned old Gentleman that has such a very good +Character in the World? + +_La._ It is as you say; but no Man is wise at all Times, or is without +his blind Side. This Man, among his many good Qualifications, has some +Foibles: He has been a long Time bewitch'd with the Art call'd +_Alchymy_. + +_Phi._ Believe me, that you call only Foible, is a dangerous Disease. + +_La._ However that is, notwithstanding he had been so often bitten by +this Sort of People, yet he has lately suffer'd himself to be impos'd +upon again. + +_Phi._ In what Manner? + +_La._ A certain Priest went to him, saluted him with great Respect, and +accosted him in this Manner: Most learned _Balbinus_, perhaps you will +wonder that I, being a Stranger to you, should thus interrupt you, who, +I know, are always earnestly engag'd in the most sacred Studies. +_Balbinus_ gave him a Nod, as was his Custom; for he is wonderfully +sparing of his Words. + +_Phi._ That's an Argument of Prudence. + +_La._ But the other, as the wiser of the two, proceeds. You will forgive +this my Importunity, when you shall know the Cause of my coming to you. +Tell me then, says _Balbinus_, but in as few Words as you can. I will, +says he, as briefly as I am able. You know, most learned of Men, that +the Fates of Mortals are various; and I can't tell among which I should +class myself, whether among the happy or the miserable; for when I +contemplate my Fate on one Part, I account myself most happy, but if on +the other Part, I am one of the most miserable. _Balbinus_ pressing him +to contract his Speech into a narrow Compass; I will have done +immediately, most learned _Balbinus_, says he, and it will be the more +easy for me to do it, to a Man who understands the whole Affair so well, +that no Man understands it better. + +_Phi._ You are rather drawing an Orator than an Alchymist. + +_La._ You shall hear the Alchymist by and by. This Happiness, says he, I +have had from a Child, to have learn'd that most desirable Art, I mean +Alchymy, the very Marrow of universal Philosophy. At the very Mention of +the Name Alchymy, _Balbinus_ rais'd himself a little, that is to say, +in Gesture only, and fetching a deep Sigh, bid him go forward. Then he +proceeds: But miserable Man that I am, said he, by not falling into the +right Way! _Balbinus_ asking him what Ways those were he spoke of; Good +Sir, says he, you know (for what is there, most learned Sir, that you +are ignorant of?) that there are two Ways in this Art, one which is +_call'd the Longation, and the other which is call'd the Curtation_. But +by my bad Fate, I have fallen upon _Longation. Balbinus_ asking him, +what was the Difference of the Ways; it would be impudent in me, says +he, to mention this to a Man, to whom all Things are so well known, that +Nobody knows them better; therefore I humbly address myself to you, that +you would take Pity on me, and vouchsafe to communicate to me that most +happy Way of _Curtation_. And by how much the better you understand this +Art, by so much the less Labour you will be able to impart it to me: Do +not conceal so great a Gift from your poor Brother that is ready to die +with Grief. And as you assist me in this, so may _Jesus Christ_ ever +enrich you with more sublime Endowments. He thus making no End of his +Solemnity of Obtestations, _Balbinus_ was oblig'd to confess, that he +was entirely ignorant of what he meant by _Longation_ and _Curtation_, +and bids him explain the Meaning of those Words. Then he began; Altho' +Sir, says he, I know I speak to a Person that is better skill'd than +myself, yet since you command me I will do it: Those that have spent +their whole Life in this divine Art, change the Species of Things two +Ways, the one is shorter, but more hazardous, the other is longer, but +safer. I account myself very unhappy, that I have laboured in that Way +that does not suit my Genius, nor could I yet find out any Body who +would shew me the other Way that I am so passionately desirous of; but +at last God has put it into my Mind to apply myself to you, a Man of as +much Piety as Learning; your Learning qualifies you to answer my Request +with Ease, and your Piety will dispose you to help a Christian Brother, +whose Life is in your Hands. To make the Matter short, when this crafty +Fellow, with such Expressions as these, had clear'd himself from all +Suspicion of a Design, and had gain'd Credit, that he understood one Way +perfectly well, _Balbinus_'s Mind began to have an Itch to be meddling. +And at last, when he could hold no longer, Away with your Methods, says +he, of _Curtation_, the Name of which I never heard before, I am so far +from understanding it. Tell me sincerely, Do you throughly understand +Longation? Phoo! says he, perfectly well; but I don't love the +Tediousness of it. Then _Balbinus_ asked him, how much Time it wou'd +take up. Too much, says he; almost a whole Year; but in the mean Time it +is the safest Way. Never trouble yourself about that, says _Balbinus_, +although it should take up two Years, if you can but depend upon your +Art. To shorten the Story: They came to an Agreement, that the Business +should be set on foot privately in _Balbinus_'s, House, upon this +Condition, that he should find Art, and _Balbinus_ Money; and the Profit +should be divided between them, although the Imposter modestly offered +that _Balbinus_ should have the whole Gain. They both took an Oath of +Secrecy, after the Manner of those that are initiated into mysterious +Secrets; and presently Money is paid down for the Artist to buy Pots, +Glasses, Coals, and other Necessaries for furnishing the Laboratory: +This Money our Alchymist lavishes away on Whores, Gaming, and Drinking. + +_Phi._ This is one Way, however, of changing the Species of Things. + +_La. Balbinus_ pressing him to fall upon the Business; he replies, Don't +you very well know, that _what's well begun is half done?_ It is a great +Matter to have the Materials well prepar'd. At last he begins to set up +the Furnace; and here there was Occasion for more Gold, as a Bait to +catch more: For as a Fish is not caught without a Bait, so Alchymists +must cast Gold in, before they can fetch Gold out. In the mean Time, +_Balbinus_ was busy in his Accounts; for he reckoned thus, if one Ounce +made fifteen, what would be the Product of two thousand; for that was +the Sum that he determined to spend. When the Alchymist had spent this +Money and two Months Time, pretending to be wonderfully busy about the +Bellows and the Coals, Balbinus enquired of him, whether the Business +went forward? At first he made no Answer; but at last he urging the +Question, he made him Answer, As all great Works do; the greatest +Difficulty of which is, in entring upon them: He pretended he had made a +Mistake in buying the Coals, for he had bought Oaken ones, when they +should have been Beechen or Fir ones. There was a hundred Crowns gone; +and he did not spare to go to Gaming again briskly. Upon giving him new +Cash, he gets new Coals, and then the Business is begun again with more +Resolution than before; just as Soldiers do, when they have happened to +meet with a Disaster, they repair it by Bravery. When the Laboratory had +been kept hot for some Months, and the golden Fruit was expected, and +there was not a Grain of Gold in the Vessel (for the Chymist had spent +all that too) another Pretence was found out, That the Glasses they +used, were not rightly tempered: For, as every Block will not make a +Mercury, so Gold will not be made in any Kind of Glass. And by how much +more Money had been spent, by so much the lother he was to give it over. + +_Phi._ Just as it is with Gamesters, as if it were not better to lose +some than all. + +_La._ Very true. The Chymist swore he was never so cheated since he was +born before; but now having found out his Mistake, he could proceed with +all the Security in the World, and fetch up that Loss with great +Interest. The Glasses being changed, the Laboratory is furnished the +third Time: Then the Operator told him, the Operation would go on more +successfully, if he sent a Present of Crowns to the Virgin Mary, that +you know is worshipped at _Paris_; for it was an holy Act: And in Order +to have it carried on successfully, it needed the Favour of the Saints. +_Balbinus_ liked this Advice wonderfully well, being a very pious Man +that never let a Day pass, but he performed some Act of Devotion or +other. The Operator undertakes the religious Pilgrimage; but spends this +devoted Money in a Bawdy-House in the next Town: Then he goes back, and +tells _Balbinus_ that he had great Hope that all would succeed according +to their Mind, the Virgin _Mary_ seem'd so to favour their Endeavours. +When he had laboured a long Time, and not one Crumb of Gold appearing, +_Balbinus_ reasoning the Matter with him, he answered, that nothing like +this had ever happened all his Days to him, tho' he had so many Times +had Experience of his Method; nor could he so much as imagine what +should be the Reason of this Failing. After they had beat their Brains a +long Time about the Matter, _Balbinus_ bethought himself, whether he had +any Day miss'd going to Chapel, or saying the _Horary Prayers_, for +nothing would succeed, if these were omitted. Says the Imposter you have +hit it. Wretch that I am, I have been guilty of that once or twice by +Forgetfulness, and lately rising from Table, after a long Dinner, I had +forgot to say the Salutation of the Virgin. Why then, says _Balbinus_, +it is no Wonder, that a Thing of this Moment succeeds no better. The +Trickster undertakes to perform twelve Services for two that he had +omitted, and to repay ten Salutations for that one. When Money every now +and then fail'd this extravagant Operator, and he could not find out any +Pretence to ask for more, he at last bethought himself of this Project. +He comes Home like one frighted out of his Wits, and in a very mournful +Tone cries out, O _Balbinus_ I am utterly undone, undone; I am in Danger +of my Life. _Balbinus_ was astonished, and was impatient to know what +was the Matter. The Court, says he, have gotten an Inkling of what we +have been about, and I expect nothing else but to be carried to Gaol +immediately. _Balbinus_, at the hearing of this, turn'd pale as Ashes; +for you know it is capital with us, for any Man to practice _Alchymy_ +without a License from the Prince: He goes on: Not, says he, that I am +afraid of Death myself, I wish that were the worst that would happen, I +fear something more cruel. _Balbinus_ asking him what that was, he +reply'd, I shall be carried away into some Castle, and there be forc'd +to work all my Days, for those I have no Mind to serve. Is there any +Death so bad as such a Life? The Matter was then debated, _Balbinus_ +being a Man that very well understood the Art of Rhetorick, casts his +Thoughts every Way, if this Mischief could be prevented any Way. Can't +you deny the Crime, says he? By no Means, says the other; the Matter is +known among the Courtiers, and they have such Proof of it that it can't +be evaded, and there is no defending of the Fact; for the Law is +point-blank against it. Many Things having been propos'd, but coming to +no conclusion, that seem'd feasible; says the Alchymist, who wanted +present Money, O _Balbinus_ we apply ourselves to slow Counsels, when +the Matter requires a present Remedy. It will not be long before they +will be here that will apprehend me, and carry me away into Tribulation. +And last of all, seeing _Balbinus_ at a Stand, says the Alchymist, I am +as much at a Loss as you, nor do I see any Way left, but to die like a +Man, unless you shall approve what I am going to propose, which is more +profitable than honourable; but Necessity is a hard Chapter. You know +these Sort of Men are hungry after Money, and so may be the more easily +brib'd to Secrecy. Although it is a hard Case to give these Rascals +Money to throw away; but yet, as the Case now stands, I see no better +Way. _Balbinus_ was of the same Opinion, and he lays down thirty Guineas +to bribe them to hush up the Matter. + +_Phi. Balbinus_ was wonderful liberal, as you tell the Story. + +_La._ Nay, in an honest Cause, you would sooner have gotten his Teeth +out of his Head than Money. Well, then the Alchymist was provided for, +who was in no Danger, but that of wanting Money for his Wench. + +_Phi._ I admire _Balbinus_ could not smoak the Roguery all this While. + +_La._ This is the only Thing that he's soft in, he's as sharp as a +Needle in any Thing else. Now the Furnace is set to work again with new +Money; but first, a short Prayer is made to the Virgin Mary to prosper +their Undertakings. By this Time there had been a whole Year spent, +first one Obstacle being pretended, and then another, so that all the +Expence and Labour was lost. In the mean Time there fell out one most +ridiculous Chance. + +_Phi._ What was that? + +_La._ The Alchymist had a criminal Correspondence with a certain +Courtier's Lady: The Husband beginning to be jealous, watch'd him +narrowly, and in the Conclusion, having Intelligence that the Priest was +in the Bed-Chamber, he comes Home before he was look'd for, knocks at +the Door. + +_Phi._ What did he design to do to him? + +_La._ What! Why nothing very good, either kill him or geld him. When the +Husband being very pressing to come, threatned he would break open the +Door, if his Wife did not open it, they were in bodily Fear within, and +cast about for some present Resolution; and Circumstances admitting no +better, he pull'd off his Coat, and threw himself out of a narrow +Window, but not without both Danger and Mischief, and so got away. Such +Stories as these you know are soon spread, and it came to _Balbinus_'s +Ear, and the Chymist guess'd it would be so. + +_Phi._ There was no getting off of this Business. + +_La._ Yes, he got off better here, than he did out at the Window. Hear +the Man's Invention: _Balbinus_ said not a Word to him about the Matter, +but it might be read in his Countenance, that he was no Stranger to the +Talk of the Town. The Chymist knew _Balbinus_ to be a Man of Piety, and +in some Points, I was going to say, superstitious, and such Persons are +very ready to forgive one that falls under his Crime, let it be never so +great; therefore, he on Purpose begins a Talk about the Success of their +Business, complaining, that it had not succeeded as it us'd to do, and +as he would have it; and he-wondered greatly, what should be the Reason +of it: Upon this Discourse, _Balbinus_, who seemed otherwise to have +been bent upon Silence, taking an Occasion, was a little moved: It is +no hard Matter, says he, to guess what the Obstacle is. Sins are the +Obstacles that hinder our Success, for pure Works should be done by pure +Persons. At this Word, the Projector fell down on his Knees, and beating +his Breast with a very mournful Tone, and dejected Countenance, says, O +_Balbinus_, what you have said is very true, it is Sin, it is Sin that +has been the Hinderance; but my Sins, not yours; for I am not asham'd to +confess my Uncleanness before you, as I would before my most holy Father +Confessor: The Frailty of my Flesh overcame me, and Satan drew me into +his Snares; and O miserable Wretch that I am! Of a Priest, I am become +an Adulterer; and yet, the Offering that you sent to the Virgin Mother, +is not wholly lost neither, for I had perish'd inevitably, if she had +not helped me; for the Husband broke open the Door upon me, and the +Window was too little for me to get out at; and in this Pinch of Danger, +I bethought myself of the blessed Virgin, and I fell upon my Knees, and +besought her, that if the Gift was acceptable to her, she would assist +me, and in a Minute I went to the Window, (for Necessity forced me so to +do) and found it large enough for me to get out at. + +_Phi._ Well, and did _Balbinus_ believe all this? + +_La._ Believe it, yes, and pardon'd him too, and admonish'd him very +religiously, not to be ungrateful to the blessed Virgin: Nay, there was +more Money laid down, upon his giving his Promise, that he would for the +future carry on the Process with Purity. + +_Phi._ Well, what was the End of all this? + +_La._ The Story is very long; but I'll cut it short. When he had play'd +upon _Balbinus_ long enough with these Inventions, and wheedled him out +of a considerable Sum of Money, a certain Gentleman happen'd to come +there, that had known the Knave from a Child: He easily imagining that +he was acting the same Part with _Balbinus_, that he had been acting +every where, admonishes _Balbinus_ privately, and acquainted him what +Sort of a Fellow he harbour'd, advising him to get rid of him as soon +as possible, unless he had a Mind to have him sometime or other, to +rifle his Coffers, and then run away. + +_Phi._ Well, what did _Balbinus_ do then? Sure, he took Care to have him +sent to Gaol? + +_La._ To Gaol? Nay, he gave him Money to bear his Charges, and conjur'd +him by all that was sacred, not to speak a Word of what had happened +between them. And in my Opinion, it was his Wisdom so to do, rather than +to be the common Laughing-stock, and Table-Talk, and run the Risk of the +Confiscation of his Goods besides; for the Imposter was in no Danger; he +knew no more of the Matter than an Ass, and cheating is a small Fault in +these Sort of Cattle. If he had charg'd him with Theft, his Ordination +would have say'd him from the Gallows, and no Body would have been at +the Charge of maintaining such a Fellow in Prison. + +_Phi._ I should pity _Balbinus_; but that he took Pleasure in being +gull'd. + +_La._ I must now make haste to the Hall; at another Time I'll tell you +Stories more ridiculous than this. + +_Phi._ When you shall be at Leisure, I shall be glad to hear them, and +I'll give you Story for Story. + + + + +_The HORSE-CHEAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Horse-Cheat _lays open the cheating Tricks of those + that sell or let out Horses to hire; and shews how those + Cheats themselves are sometimes cheated._ + + +AULUS, PHÆDRUS. + +Good God! What a grave Countenance our _Phaedrus_ has put on, gaping +ever and anon into the Air. I'll attack him. _Phaedrus_, what News to +Day? + +_Ph._ Why do you ask me that Question, _Aulus_? + +_Aul._ Because, of a _Phaedrus_, you seem to have become a _Cato_, there +is so much Sourness in your Countenance. + +_Ph._ That's no Wonder, my Friend, I am just come from Confession. + +_Aul._ Nay, then my Wonder's over; but tell me upon your honest Word, +did you confess all? + +_Ph._ All that I could remember, but one. + +_Aul._ And why did you reserve that one? + +_Ph._ Because I can't be out of Love with it. + +_Aul._ It must needs be some pleasant Sin. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether it is a Sin or no; but if you are at Leisure, +you shall hear what it is. + +_Aul._ I would be glad to hear it, with all my Heart. + +_Ph._ You know what cheating Tricks are play'd by our _Jockeys_, who +sell and let out Horses. + +_Aul._ Yes, I know more of them than I wish I did, having been cheated +by them more than once. + +_Ph._ I had Occasion lately to go a pretty long Journey, and I was in +great Haste; I went to one that you would have said was none of the +worst of 'em, and there was some small Matter of Friendship between us. +I told him I had an urgent Business to do, and had Occasion for a strong +able Gelding; desiring, that if he would ever be my Friend in any Thing, +he would be so now. He promised me, that he would use me as kindly as if +I were his own dear Brother. + +_Aul._ It may be he would have cheated his Brother. + +_Ph._ He leads me into the Stable, and bids me chuse which I would out +of them all. At last I pitch'd upon one that I lik'd better than the +rest. He commends my Judgment, protesting that a great many Persons had +had a Mind to that Horse; but he resolved to keep him rather for a +singular Friend, than sell him to a Stranger. I agreed with him as to +the Price, paid him down his Money, got upon the Horse's Back. Upon the +first setting out, my Steed falls a prancing; you would have said he was +a Horse of Mettle; he was plump, and in good Case: But, by that Time I +had rid him an Hour and a half, I perceiv'd he was downright tir'd, nor +could I by spurring him, get him any further. I had heard that such +Jades had been kept for Cheats, that you would take by their Looks to be +very good Horses; but were worth nothing for Service. I says to myself +presently, I am caught. But when I come Home again, I will shew him +Trick for Trick. + +_Aul._ But what did you do in this Case, being a Horseman without a +Horse? + +_Ph._ I did what I was oblig'd to do. I turn'd into the next Village, +and there I set my Horse up privately, with an Acquaintance, and hired +another, and prosecuted my Journey; and when I came back, I return'd my +hired Horse, and finding my own in very good Case, and thoroughly +rested, I mounted his Back, and rid back to the Horse-Courser, desiring +him to set him up for a few Days, till I called for him again. He ask'd +me how well he carry'd me; I swore by all that was good, that I never +bestrid a better Nag in my Life, that he flew rather than walk'd, nor +ever tir'd the least in the World in all so long a Journey, nor was a +Hair the leaner for it. I having made him believe that these Things were +true, he thought with himself, he had been mistaken in this Horse; and +therefore, before I went away, he ask'd me if I would sell the Horse. I +refus'd at first; because if I should have Occasion to go such another +Journey, I should not easily get the Fellow of him; but however, I +valued nothing so much, but I would sell it, if I could have a good +Price for it, altho' any Body had a Mind to buy myself. + +_Aul._ This was fighting a Man with his own Weapons. + +_Ph._ In short, he would not let me go away, before I had set a Price +upon him. I rated him at a great Deal more than he cost me. Being gone, +I got an Acquaintance to act for me, and gave him Instructions how to +behave himself: He goes to the House, and calls for the Horse-Courser, +telling him, that he had Occasion for a very good, and a very hardy Nag. +The Horse-Courser shews him a great many Horses, still commending the +worst most of all; but says not a Word of that Horse he had sold me, +verily believing he was such as I had represented him. My Friend +presently ask'd whether that was not to be sold; for I had given him a +Description of the Horse, and the Place where he stood. The +Horse-Courser at first made no Answer, but commended the rest very +highly. The Gentleman lik'd the other Horses pretty well; but always +treated about that very Horse: At last thinks the Horse-Courser with +himself, I have certainly been out in my Judgment as to this Horse, if +this Stranger could presently pick this Horse out of so many. He +insisting upon it, He may be sold, says he; but it may be, you'll be +frighted at the Price. The Price, says he, is a Case of no great +Importance, if the Goodness of the Thing be answerable: Tell me the +Price. He told him something more than I had set him at to him, getting +the Overplus to himself. At last the Price was agreed on, and a good +large Earnest was given, a Ducat of Gold to bind the Bargain. The +Purchaser gives the Hostler a Groat, orders him to give his Horse some +Corn, and he would come by and by, and fetch him. As soon as ever I +heard the Bargain was made so firmly, that it could not be undone again, +I go immediately, booted and spurr'd to the Horse-Courser, and being out +of Breath, calls for my Horse. He comes and asks what I wanted: Says I, +get my Horse ready presently, for I must be gone this Moment, upon an +extraordinary Affair: But, says he, you bid me keep the Horse a few +Days: That's true, said I, but this Business has happened unexpectedly, +and it is the King's Business, and it will admit of no Delay. Says he, +take your Choice, which you will of all my Horses; you cannot have your +own. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretended +to be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey has +happen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times his +Price. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grew +a little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: You +set a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you your +Money, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, and +you can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a good +While, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that bought +him: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought him +for fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valued +him at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make that +Profit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd in +my Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desires +me not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So I +bit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that he +that had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; but +no Body came, nor ever will come. + +_Aul._ But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter with +you? + +_Ph._ With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him over +and over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But I +often reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be so +serv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. This +was a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in my +Heart to confess it as a Fault. + +_Aul._ If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far from +confessing it as a Fault, that I should have requir'd a Statue for it. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether you speak as you think or no; but you set me +agog however, to be paying more of these Fellows in their own Coin. + + + + +_The BEGGARS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Beggars Dialogue paints out the cheating, crafty + Tricks of Beggars, who make a Shew of being full of + Sores, and make a Profession of Palmistry, and other Arts + by which they impose upon many Persons. Nothing is more + like Kingship, than the Life of a Beggar._ + + +IRIDES, MISOPONUS. + +_Ir._ What new Sort of Bird is this I see flying here? I know the Face, +but the Cloaths don't suit it. If I'm not quite mistaken, this is +_Misoponus_. I'll venture to speak to him, as ragged as I am. God save +you, _Misoponus_. + +_Mis._ Hold your Tongue, I say. + +_Ir._ What's the Matter, mayn't a Body salute you? + +_Mis._ Not by that Name. + +_Ir._ Why, what has happen'd to you? Are you not the same Man that you +was? What, have you changed your Name with your Cloaths? + +_Mis._ No, but I have taken up my old Name again. + +_Ir._ Who was you then? + +_Mis._ _Apitius_. + +_Ir._ Never be asham'd of your old Acquaintance, if any Thing of a +better Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd to +our Order. + +_Mis._ Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am not +asham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first of +myself. + +_Ir._ What Order do you mean? That of the _Franciscans_? + +_Mis._ No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of the +Spendthrifts. + +_Ir._ In Truth, you have a great many Companions of that Order. + +_Mis._ I had a good Fortune, I spent lavishly, and when I began to be in +Want, no Body knew _Apitius_. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself to +your College: I lik'd that better than digging. + +_Ir._ Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case of +late? For as to your Change of Cloaths, I don't so much wonder at that. + +_Mis._ Why so? + +_Ir._ Because the Goddess _Laverna_ makes many rich on a sudden. + +_Mis._ What! do you think I got an Estate by Thieving then? + +_Ir._ Nay, perhaps more idly, by Rapine. + +_Mis._ No, I swear by your Goddess _Penia_, neither by Thieving, nor by +Rapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, which +seems to you to be the most admirable. + +_Ir._ For when you were with us, you were all over full of Sores. + +_Mis._ But I have since made Use of a very friendly Physician. + +_Ir._ Who? + +_Mis._ No other Person but myself, unless you think any Body is more +friendly to me, than I am to myself. + +_Ir._ But I never knew you understood Physick before. + +_Mis._ Why all that Dress was nothing but a Cheat I had daub'd on with +Paints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd in +Blood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again. + +_Ir._ O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. You +might have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy. + +_Mis._ My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt to +change the Skin too. + +_Ir._ Well then, tell me of your Fortune. Have you found a Treasure? + +_Mis._ No; but I have found out a Way of getting Money that's a little +better than yours. + +_Ir._ What could you get Money out of, that had no Stock? + +_Mis._ _An Artist will live any where._ + +_Ir._ I understand you now, you mean the Art of picking Pockets. + +_Mis._ Not so hard upon me, I pray; I mean the Art of Chymistry. + +_Ir._ Why 'tis scarce above a Fortnight, since you went away from us, +and have you in that Time learn'd an Art, that others can hardly learn +in many Years? + +_Mis._ But I have got a shorter Way. + +_Ir._ Prithee, what Way? + +_Mis._ When I had gotten almost four Guineas by your Art, I happened, as +good Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion of +mine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I had +done. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, to +tell of his Adventures. I made a Bargain with him to pay his Reckoning, +upon Condition that he should faithfully teach me his Art. He taught it +me very honestly, and now 'tis my Livelihood. + +_Ir._ Mayn't a Body learn it? + +_Mis._ I'll teach it you for nothing, for old Acquaintance Sake. You +know, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of this +Art. + +_Ir._ I have heard so, and I believe it is true. + +_Mis._ I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into their +Acquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungry +Sea-Cob, I throw him out a Bait. + +_Ir._ How do you do that? + +_Mis._ I caution him by all Means, not rashly to trust Men of that +Profession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their _hocus +pocus_ Tricks, pick the Pockets of those that are not cautious. + +_Ir._ That Prologue is not fit for your Business. + +_Mis._ Nay, I add this further, that I would not have them believe me +myself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and felt +it with their Hands. + +_Ir._ You speak of a wonderful Confidence you have in your Art. + +_Mis._ I bid them be present all the While the Metamorphosis is under +the Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may have +the less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their own +Hands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Finger +to it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it to +the Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Gold +it will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Mass +to several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find the +exact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold or +Silver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment in +Silver is the less chargeable to me. + +_Ir._ But has your Art no Cheat in it? + +_Mis._ It is a mere Cheat all over. + +_Ir._ I can't see where the Cheat lies. + +_Mis._ I'll make you see it presently. I first make a Bargain for my +Reward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thing +itself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business was +effected by the Virtue of that; but I never tell them how to make it, +except they purchase it at a very great Price. And I make them take an +Oath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Body +living. + +_Ir._ But I han't heard the Cheat yet. + +_Mis._ The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for this +Purpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to the +Quantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powder +is put in, I set the Pot in such a Manner, that it is cover'd all over, +above, beneath, and Sides, with Coals, and I persuade them, that the Art +consists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in one +that has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of the +Fire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin or +Brass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out. + +_Ir._ A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another does +it all with his own Hands? + +_Mis._ When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, before +the Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing has +been omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two at +the Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privately +lay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which I +can take, and no Body know any Thing of the Matter. + +_Ir._ But when they try to do this without you, and it does not succeed, +what Excuse have you to make? + +_Mis._ I'm safe enough when I have got my Money. I pretend one Thing or +other, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or the +Fire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mystery +of my Profession is, never to stay long in the same Place. + +_Ir._ And is there so much Profit in this Art as to maintain you? + +_Mis._ Yes, and nobly too: And I would have you, for the future, if you +are wise, leave off that wretched Trade of Begging, and follow ours. + +_Ir._ Nay, I should rather chuse to bring you back to our Trade. + +_Mis._ What, that I should voluntarily return again to that I have +escap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable? + +_Ir._ This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it grows +pleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen off +from the Order of St. _Francis_ or St. _Benedict_, did you ever know +any that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce taste +the Sweetness of Beggary in so few Months as you follow'd it. + +_Mis._ That little Taste I had of it taught me, that it was the most +wretched Life in Nature. + +_Ir._ Why does no Body quit it then? + +_Mis._ Perhaps, because they are naturally wretched. + +_Ir._ I would not change this Wretchedness, for the Fortune of a King. +For there is nothing more like a King, than the Life of a Beggar. + +_Mis._ What strange Story do I hear? Is nothing more like Snow than a +Coal? + +_Ir._ Wherein consists the greatest Happiness of Kings? + +_Mis._ Because in that they can do what they please. + +_Ir._ As for that Liberty, than which nothing is sweeter, we have more +of it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are many +Kings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, we +are not press'd for Soldiers, nor put upon Parish-Offices, nor taxed. +When the People are loaded with Taxes, there's no Scrutiny into our Way +of Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue a +Beggar? If we beat a Man, he will be asham'd to fight with a Beggar? +Kings can't live at Ease neither in War or in Peace, and the greater +they are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid to +offend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated to +God. + +_Mis._ But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels? + +_Ir._ What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak of +are out of a Man. We owe our Happiness to these Rags. + +_Mis._ But I am afraid a good Part of your Happiness will fail you in a +short Time. + +_Ir._ How so? + +_Mis._ Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be a +Law, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at their +Pleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they that +are able shall be made to work. + +_Ir._ What Reason have they for this? + +_Mis._ Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence of +Begging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publick +from your Order. + +_Ir._ Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bring +it about when the Devil's blind. + +_Mis._ Perhaps sooner than you'd have it. + + + + +_The FABULOUS FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The fabulous Feast contains various Stories and pleasant + Tales._ Maccus _puts a Trick upon a Shoe-maker. A + Fruiterer is put upon about her Figs. A very clever Cheat + of a Priest, in relation to Money._ Lewis _the Eleventh, + King of_ France, _eats some of a Country-Man's Turnips, + and gives him 1000 Crowns for an extraordinary large one + that he made a Present of to him. A certain Man takes a + Louse off of the King's Garment, and the King gives him + 40 Crowns for it. The Courtiers are trick'd. One asks for + an Office, or some publick Employment. To deny a Kindness + presently, is to bestow a Benefit._ Maximilian _was very + merciful to his Debtors. An old Priest Cheats an Usurer._ + Anthony _salutes one upon letting a Fart, saying the + Backside was the cleanest Part of the Body._ + + + POLYMYTHUS, GELASINUS, EUTRAPELUS, ASTÆUS, PHILYTHLUS, + PHILOGELOS, EUGLOTTUS, LEROCHARES, ADOLESCHES, LEVINUS. + +_Pol._ As it is unfitting for a well order'd City to be without Laws and +without a Governor; so neither ought a Feast to be without Orders and a +President. + +_Ge._ If I may speak for the rest, I like it very well. + +_Po._ Soho, Sirrah! bring hither the Dice, the Matter shall be +determin'd by their Votes; he shall be our President that _Jupiter_ +shall favour. O brave! _Eutrapelus_ has it, the fittest Man that could +be chosen, if we had every individual Man of us thrown. There is an +usual Proverb, that has more Truth in't than good Latin, _Novus Rex nova +Lex, New Lords new Laws_. Therefore, King, make thou Laws. + +_Eut._ That this may be a merry and happy Banquet, in the first Place I +command, that no Man tell a Story but what is a ridiculous one. He that +shall have no Story to tell, shall pay a Groat, to be spent in Wine; and +Stories invented extempore shall be allow'd as legitimate, provided +Regard be had to Probability and Decency. If no Body shall want a Story, +let those two that tell, the one the pleasantest, and the other the +dullest, pay for Wine. Let the Master of the Feast be at no Charge for +Wine, but only for the Provisions of the Feast. If any Difference about +this Matter shall happen, let _Gelasinus_ be Judge. If you agree to +these Conditions, let 'em be ratified. He that won't observe the Orders, +let him be gone, but with Liberty to come again to a Collation the next +Day. + +_Ge._ We give our Votes for the Passing the Bill our King has brought +in. But who must tell the first Story? + +_Eut._ Who should, but the Master of the Feast? + +_As._ But, Mr. King, may I have the liberty to speak three Words? + +_Eut._ What, do you take the Feast to be an unlucky one? + +_As._ The Lawyers deny that to be Law that is not just. + +_Eut._ I grant it. + +_As._ Your Law makes the best and worst Stories equal. + +_Eut._ Where Diversion is the Thing aim'd at, there he deserves as much +Commendation who tells the worst, as he that tells the best Story, +because it affords as much Merriment; as amongst Songsters none are +admir'd but they that sing very well, or they that sing very ill. Do not +more laugh to hear the Cuckoo than to hear the Nightingal? In this Case +Mediocrity is not Praise-worthy. + +_As._ But pray, why must they be punish'd, that carry off the Prize? + +_Eut._ Lest their too great Felicity should expose them to Envy, if they +should carry away the Prize, and go Shot-free too. + +_As._ By _Bacchus, Minos_ himself never made a juster Law. + +_Phily._ Do you make no Order as to the Method of Drinking? + +_Eut._ Having consider'd the Matter, I will follow the Example of +_Agesilaus_ King of the _Lacedæmonians_. + +_Phily._ What did he do? + +_Eut._ Upon a certain Time, he being by Lot chosen Master of the Feast, +when the Marshal of the Hall ask'd him, how much Wine he should set +before every Man; If, says he, you have a great Deal of Wine, let every +Man have as much as he calls for, but if you're scarce of Wine, give +every Man equally alike. + +_Phily._ What did the _Lacedæmonian_ mean by that? + +_Eut._ He did this, that it might neither be a drunken Feast, nor a +querulous one. + +_Phily._ Why so? + +_Eut._ Because some like to drink plentifully, and some sparingly, and +some drink no Wine at all; such an one _Romulus_ is said to have been. +For if no Body has any Wine but what he asks for, in the first Place no +Body is compell'd to drink, and there is no Want to them that love to +drink more plentifully. And so it comes to pass that no Body is +melancholy at the Table. And again, if of a less quantity of Wine every +one has an equal Portion, they that drink moderately have enough; nor +can any Body complain in an Equality, and they that would have drank +more largely, are contentedly temperate. + +_Eut._ If you like it, this is the Example I would imitate, for I would +have this Feast to be a fabulous, but not a drunken one. + +_Phily._ But what did _Romulus_ drink then? + +_Eut._ The same that Dogs drink. + +_Phily._ Was not that unbeseeming a King? + +_Eut._ No more than it is unseemly for a King to draw the same Air that +Dogs do, unless there is this Difference, that a King does not drink the +very same Water that a Dog drank, but a Dog draws in the very same Air +that the King breath'd out; and on the contrary, the King draws in the +very same Air that the Dog breath'd out. It would have been much more to +_Alexander_'s, Glory, if he had drank with the Dogs. For there is +nothing worse for a King, who has the Care of so many thousand Persons, +than Drunkenness. But the Apothegm that _Romulus_ very wittily made Use +of, shews plainly that he was no Wine-Drinker. For when a certain +Person, taking Notice of his abstaining from Wine, said to him, that +Wine would be very cheap, if all Men drank as he did; nay, says he, in +my Opinion it would be very dear, if all Men drank it as I drink; for I +drink as much as I please. + +_Ge._ I wish our _John Botzemus_, the Canon of _Constance_, was here; +he'd look like another _Romulus_ to us: For he is as abstemious, as he +is reported to have been; but nevertheless, he is a good-humoured, +facetious Companion. + +_Po._ But come on, if you can, I won't say _drink and blow_, which +_Plautus_ says is a hard Matter to do, but if you can eat and hear at +one and the same Time, which is a very easy Matter, I'll begin the +Exercise of telling Stories, and auspiciously. If the Story be not a +pleasant one, remember 'tis a _Dutch_ one. I suppose some of you have +heard of the Name of _Maccus_? + +_Ge._ Yes, he has not been dead long. + +_Po._ He coming once to the City of _Leiden_, and being a Stranger +there, had a Mind to make himself taken Notice of for an arch Trick (for +that was his Humour); he goes into a Shoemaker's Shop, and salutes him. +The Shoemaker, desirous to sell his Ware, asks him what he would buy: +_Maccus_ setting his Eyes upon a Pair of Boots that hung up there, the +Shoemaker ask'd him if he'd buy any Boots; _Maccus_ assenting to it, he +looks out a Pair that would fit him, and when he had found 'em brings +'em out very readily, and, as the usual Way is, draws 'em on. _Maccus_ +being very well fitted with a Pair of Boots, How well, says he, would a +Pair of double soal'd Shoes agree with these Boots? The Shoemaker asks +him, if he would have a Pair of Shoes too. He assents, a Pair is look'd +out presently and put on. _Maccus_ commends the Boots, commends the +Shoes. The Shoemaker glad in his Mind to hear him talk so, seconds him +as he commended 'em, hoping to get a better Price, since the Customer +lik'd his Goods so well. And by this Time they were grown a little +familiar; then says _Maccus_, Tell me upon your Word, whether it never +was your Hap, when you had fitted a Man with Boots and Shoes, as you +have me, to have him go away without paying for 'em? No, never in all my +Life, says he. But, says _Maccus_, if such a Thing should happen to you, +what would you do in the Case? Why, quoth the Shoemaker, I'd run after +him. Then says _Maccus_, but are you in Jest or in Earnest? In Earnest, +says the other, and I'd do it in Earnest too. Says _Maccus_, I'll try +whether you will or no. See I run for the Shoes, and you're to follow +me, and out he runs in a Minute; the Shoemaker follows him immediately +as fast as ever he could run, crying out, Stop Thief, stop Thief; this +Noise brings the People out of their Houses: _Maccus_ laughing, hinders +them from laying Hold of him by this Device, Don't stop me, says he, we +are running a Race for a Wager of a Pot of Ale; and so they all stood +still and look'd on, thinking the Shoemaker had craftily made that +Out-cry that he might have the Opportunity to get before him. At last +the Shoemaker, being tir'd with running, gives out, and goes sweating, +puffing and blowing Home again: So _Maccus_ got the Prize. + +_Ge._ _Maccus_ indeed escap'd the Shoemaker, but did not escape the +Thief. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Ge._ Because he carried the Thief along with him. + +_Po._ Perhaps he might not have Money at that Time, but paid for 'em +afterwards. + +_Ge._ He might have indicted him for a Robbery. + +_Po._ That was attempted afterwards, but now the Magistrates knew +_Maccus_. + +_Ge._ What did _Maccus_ say for himself? + +_Po._ Do you ask what he said for himself, in so good a Cause as this? +The Plaintiff was in more Danger than the Defendant. + +_Ge._ How so? + +_Po._ Because he arrested him in an Action of Defamation, and prosecuted +him upon the Statute of _Rheims_ which says, that he that charges a Man +with what he can't prove, shall suffer the Penalty, which the Defendant +was to suffer if he had been convicted. He deny'd that he had meddled +with another Man's Goods without his Leave, but that he put 'em upon +him, and that there was no Mention made of any Thing of a Price; but +that he challeng'd the Shoemaker to run for a Wager, and that he +accepted the Challenge, and that he had no Reason to complain because he +had out-run him. + +_Ge._ This Action was pretty much like that of the Shadow of the Ass. +Well, but what then? + +_Po._ When they had had laughing enough at the Matter, one of the Judges +invites _Maccus_ to Supper, and paid the Shoemaker his Money. Just such +another Thing happen'd at _Daventerv_, when I was a Boy. It was at a +Time when 'tis the Fishmonger's Fair, and the Butchers Time to be +starv'd. A certain Man stood at a Fruiterer's Stall, or Oporopolist's, +if you'd have it in _Greek_. The Woman was a very fat Woman, and he +star'd very hard upon the Ware she had to sell. She, according as the +Custom is, invites him to have what he had a Mind to; and perceiving he +set his Eyes upon some Figs, Would you please to have Figs, says she? +they are very fine ones. He gives her a Nod. She asks him how many +Pound, Would you have five Pound says she? He nods again; she turns him +five Pound into his Apron. While she is laying by her Scales, he walks +off, not in any great haste, but very gravely. When she comes out to +take her Money, her Chap was gone; she follows him, making more Noise +than Haste after him. He, taking no Notice, goes on; at last a great +many getting together at the Woman's Out-cry, he stands still, pleads +his Cause in the midst of the Multitude: there was very good Sport, he +denies that he bought any Figs of her, but that she gave 'em him freely; +if she had a Mind to have a Trial for it, he would put in an Appearance. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll tell you a Story not much unlike yours, nor perhaps not +much inferior to it, saving it has not so celebrated an Author as +_Maccus_. _Pythagoras_ divided the Market into three Sorts of Persons, +those that went thither to sell, those that went thither to buy; both +these Sorts were a careful Sort of People, and therefore unhappy: others +came to see what was there to be sold, and what was done; these only +were the happy People, because being free from Care, they took their +Pleasure freely. And this he said was the Manner that a Philosopher +convers'd in this World, as they do in a Market. But there is a fourth +Kind of Persons that walk about in our Markets, who neither buy nor +sell, nor are idle Spectators of what others do, but lie upon the Catch +to steal what they can. And of this last Sort there are some that are +wonderful dextrous. You would swear they were born under a lucky Planet. +Our Entertainer gave us a Tale with an Epilogue, I'll give you one with +a Prologue to it. Now you shall hear what happen'd lately at _Antwerp_. +An old Priest had receiv'd there a pretty handsome Sum of Money, but it +was in Silver. A Sharper has his Eye upon him; he goes to the Priest, +who had put his Money in a large Bag in his Cassock, where it boug'd +out; he salutes him very civilly, and tells him that he had Orders to +buy a Surplice, which is the chief Vestment us'd in performing Divine +Service, for the Priest of his Parish; he intreats him to lend him a +little Assistance in this Matter, and to go with him to those that sell +such Attire, that he might fit one according to his Size, because he was +much about the same Stature with the Parson of his Parish. This being +but a small Kindness, the old Priest promises to do it very readily. +They go to a certain Shop, a Surplice is shew'd 'em, the old Priest +puts it on, the Seller says, it fits him as exactly as if made for him; +the Sharper viewing the old Priest before and behind, likes the Surplice +very well, but only found Fault that it was too short before. The +Seller, lest he should lose his Customer, says, that was not the Fault +of the Surplice, but that the Bag of Money that stuck out, made it look +shorter there. To be short, the old Priest lays his Bag down; then they +view it over again, and while the old Priest stands with his Back +towards it, the Sharper catches it up, and runs away as fast as he +could: The Priest runs after him in the Surplice as he was, and the +Shop-Keeper after the Priest; the old Priest cries out, Stop Thief; the +Salesman cries out, Stop the Priest; the Sharper cries out, Stop the mad +Priest; and they took him to be mad, when they saw him run in the open +Street in such a Dress: so one hindring the other, the Sharper gets +clear off. + +_Eut._ Hanging is too good for such a Rogue. + +_Ge._ It is so, if he be not hang'd already. + +_Eut._ I would not have him hang'd only, but all those that encourage +such monstrous Rogues to the Damage of the State. + +_Ge._ They don't encourage 'em for nothing; there's a fellow Feeling +between 'em from the lowest to the highest. + +_Eut._ Well, but let us return to our Stories again. + +_Ast._ It comes to your Turn now, if it be meet to oblige a King to keep +his Turn. + +_Eut._ I won't need to be forc'd to keep my Turn, I'll keep it +voluntarily; I should be a Tyrant and not a King, if I refus'd to comply +with those Laws I prescribe to others. + +_Ast._ But some Folks say, that a Prince is above the Law. + +_Eut._ That saying is not altogether false, if by Prince you mean that +great Prince who was call'd _Cæsar_; and then, if by being above the +Law, you mean, that whereas others do in some Measure keep the Laws by +Constraint, he of his own Inclination more exactly observes them. For a +good Prince is that to the Body Politick, which the Mind is to the Body +Natural. What Need was there to have said a good Prince, when a bad +Prince is no Prince? As an unclean Spirit that possesses the human Body, +is not the Soul of that Body. But to return to my Story; and I think +that as I am King, it becomes me to tell a kingly Story. _Lewis_ King of +_France_ the Eleventh of that Name, when his Affairs were disturb'd at +Home, took a Journey to _Burgundy_; and there upon the Occasion of a +Hunting, contracted a Familiarity with one _Conon_, a Country Farmer, +but a plain downright honest Man; and Kings delight in the Conversation +of such Men. The King, when he went a hunting, us'd often to go to his +House; and as great Princes do sometimes delight themselves with mean +Matters, he us'd to be mightily pleas'd in eating of his Turnips. Not +long after, _Lewis_ having settled his Affairs, obtain'd the Government +of the _French_ Nation; _Conon_'s Wife puts him upon remembring the King +of his old Entertainment at their House, bids him go to him, and make +him a Present of some rare Turnips. _Conon_ at first would not hear of +it, saying he should lose his Labour, for that Princes took no Notice of +such small Matters; but his Wife over-persuaded him. _Conon_ picks out a +Parcel of choice Turnips, and gets ready for his Journey; but growing +hungry by the Way, eats 'em all up but one very large one. When _Conon_ +had got Admission into the Hall that the King was to pass thro', the +King knew him presently, and sent for him; and he with a great Deal of +Chearfulness offers his Present, and the King with as much Readiness of +Mind receives it, commanding one that stood near him to lay it up very +carefully among his greatest Rarities. He commands _Conon_ to dine with +him, and after Dinner thanks him; and _Conon_ being desirous to go back +into his own Country, the King orders him 1000 Crowns for his Turnip. +When the Report of this Thing, as it is common, was spread abroad thro' +the King's Houshold-Servants, one of the Courtiers presents the King +with a very fine Horse; the King knowing that it was his Liberality to +_Conon_ that had put him upon this, he hoping to make a great Advantage +by it, he accepted it with a great Deal of Pleasure, and calling a +Council of his Nobles, began to debate, with what Present he should make +a Recompence for so fine and valuable a Horse. In the mean Time the +Giver of the Horse began to be flushed with Expectation, thinking thus +with himself; If he made such a Recompence for a poor Turnip offer'd him +by a Country Farmer, how much more magnificently will he requite the +Present of so fine a Horse by a Courtier? When one answer'd one Thing, +and another another to the King that was consulting about it, as a +Matter of great Moment, and the designing Courtier had been for a long +Time kept in Fools Paradise; At Length, says the King, it's just now +come into my Mind what Return to make him, and calling one of his +Noblemen to him, whispers him in the Ear, bids him go fetch him what he +found in his Bedchamber (telling him the Place where it lay) choicely +wrap'd up in Silk; the Turnip is brought, and the King with his own Hand +gives it the Courtier, wrap'd up as it was, saying that he thought he +had richly requited the Present of the Horse by so choice a Rarity, as +had cost him 1000 Crowns. The Courtier going away, and taking off the +Covering, did not find a _Coal instead of a Treasure_, according to the +old Proverb, but a dry Turnip: and so the Biter was bitten, and soundly +laugh'd at by every Body into the Bargain. + +_As._ But, Mr. King, if you'll please to permit me, who am but a +Peasant, to speak of regal Matters, I'll tell you something that comes +into my Mind, by hearing your Story, concerning the same _Lewis_. For as +one Link of a Chain draws on another, so one Story draws on another. A +certain Servant seeing a Louse crawling upon the King's Coat, falling +upon his Knees and lifting up his Hand, gives Notice, that he had a Mind +to do some Sort of Service; _Lewis_ offering himself to him, he takes +off the Louse, and threw it away privately; the King asks him what it +was; he seem'd ashamed to tell him, but the King urging him, he +confess'd it was a Louse: That's a very good Sign, says he, for it shews +me to be a Man, because this Sort of Vermin particularly haunts Mankind, +especially while they are young; and order'd him a Present of 40 Crowns +for his good Service. Some Time after, another Person (who had seen how +well he came off that had perform'd so small a Service) not considering +that there is a great Difference between doing a Thing sincerely, and +doing it craftily, approached the King with the like Gesture; and he +offering himself to him, he made a Shew of taking something off his +Garment, which he presently threw away. But when the King was urgent +upon him, seeming unwilling to tell what it was, mimicking Abundance of +Modesty, he at last told him it was a Flea; the King perceiving the +Fraud, says to him, What do you make a Dog of me? and orders him to be +taken away, and instead of 40 Crowns orders him 40 Stripes. + +_Phily._ I hear it's no good jesting with Kings; for as Lions will +sometimes stand still to be stroaked, are Lions again when they please, +and kill their Play-Fellow; just so Princes play with Men. But I'll tell +you a Story not much unlike yours: not to go off from _Lewis_, who us'd +to take a Pleasure in tricking Tricksters. He had receiv'd a Present of +ten thousand Crowns from some Place, and as often as the Courtiers know +the King has gotten any fresh Money, all the Officers are presently upon +the Hunt to catch some Part of it; this _Lewis_ knew very well, this +Money being pour'd out upon a Table, he, to raise all their +Expectations, thus bespeaks them; What say you, am not I a very rich +King? Where shall I bestow all this Money? It was presented to me, and I +think it is meet I should make Presents of it again. Where are all my +Friends, to whom I am indebted for their good Services? Now let 'em come +before this Money's gone. At that Word a great many came running; every +Body hop'd to get some of it. The King taking Notice of one that look'd +very wishfully upon it, and as if he would devour it with his Eyes, +turning to him, says, Well, Friend, what have you to say? He inform'd +the King, that he had for a long Time very faithfully kept the King's +Hawks, and been at a great Expence thereby. One told him one Thing, +another another, every one setting out his Service to the best +Advantage, and ever and anon lying into the Bargain. The King heard 'em +all very patiently, and approv'd of what they said. This Consultation +held a long Time, that he might teaze them the more, by keeping them +betwixt Hope and Despair. Among the rest stood the Great Chancellor, for +the King had order'd him to be sent for too; he, being wiser than the +rest, says never a Word of his own good Services, but was only a +Spectator of the Comedy. At Length the King turning toward him, says, +Well, what says my Chancellor to the Matter? He is the only Man that +asks nothing, and says never a Word of his good Services. I, says the +Chancellor, have receiv'd more already from your royal Bounty, than I +have deserved. I am so far from craving more, that I am not desirous of +any Thing so much, as to behave myself worthy of the royal Bounty I have +receiv'd. Then, says the King, you are the only Man of 'em all that does +not want Money. Says the Chancellor, I must thank your Bounty that I +don't. Then he turns to the others, and says, I am the most magnificent +Prince in the World, that have such a wealthy Chancellor. This more +inflam'd all their Expectations, that the Money would be distributed +among them, since he desired none of it. When the King had play'd upon +'em after this Manner a pretty While, he made the Chancellor take it all +up, and carry it Home; then turning to the rest, who now look'd a little +dull upon it, says he, You must stay till the next Opportunity. + +_Philog._ Perhaps that I'm going to tell you, will not seem so +entertaining. However, I entreat you that you would not be suspicious, +that I use any Deceit or Collusion, or think that I have a Design to +desire to be excus'd. One came to the same _Lewis_, with a Petition that +he would bestow upon him an Office that happen'd to be vacant in the +Town where he liv'd. The King hearing the Petition read, answers +immediately, you shall not have it; by that Means putting him out of any +future Expectation; the Petitioner immediately returns the King Thanks, +and goes his Way. The King observing the Man's Countenance, perceiv'd he +was no Blockhead, and thinking perhaps he might have misunderstood what +he said, bids him be call'd back again. He came back; then says the +King; Did you understand what I said to you? I did understand you, quoth +he: Why, what did I say? That I should not have it, said he. What did +you thank me for then? Why, says he, I have some Business to do at Home, +and therefore it would have been a Trouble to me to have here danc'd +Attendance after a doubtful Hope; now, I look upon it a Benefit that you +have denied me the Office quickly, and so I count myself to have gain'd +whatsoever I should have lost by Attendance upon it, and gone without it +at last. By this Answer, the King seeing the Man to be no Blockhead, +having ask'd him a few Questions, says he, You shall have what you ask'd +for, that you may thank me twice, and turning to his Officers; Let, says +he, Letters patent be made out for this Man without Delay, that he may +not be detain'd here to his Detriment. + +_Eugl._ I could tell you a Story of _Lewis_, but I had rather tell one +of our _Maximilian_, who as he was far from hiding his Money in the +Ground, so he was very generous to those that had spent their Estates, +if they were nobly descended. He being minded to assist a young +Gentleman, that had fallen under these Circumstances, sent him on an +Embassy to demand an hundred thousand Florins of a certain City, but I +know not upon what Account. But this was the Condition of it, that if he +by his Dexterity could make any more of it, it should be his own. The +Embassador extorted fifty thousand from 'em, and gave _Caesar_ thirty of +'em. _Caesar_ being glad to receive more than he expected, dismisses the +Man without asking any Questions. In the mean Time the Treasurer and +Receivers smelt the Matter, that he had receiv'd more than he had paid +in; they importune _Caesar_ to send for him; he being sent for, comes +immediately: Says _Maximilian_, I hear you have receiv'd fifty thousand. +He confess'd it. But you have paid in but thirty thousand. He confess'd +that too. Says he, You must give an Account of it. He promis'd he would +do it, and went away. But again he doing nothing in it, the Officers +pressing the Matter, he was call'd again; then says _Caesar_ to him, A +little While ago, you were order'd to make up the Account. Says he, I +remember it, and am ready to do it. _Caesar_, imagining that he had not +settled it, let him go again; but he thus eluding the Matter, the +Officers insisted more pressingly upon it, crying out, it was a great +Affront to play upon _Caesar_ at this Rate. They persuaded the King to +send for him, and make him balance the Account before them. _Caesar_ +agrees to it, he is sent for, comes immediately, and does not refuse to +do any Thing. Then says _Caesar_, Did not you promise to balance the +Account? Yes, said he. Well, says he, you must do it here; here are some +to take your Account; it must be put off no longer. The Officers sat by, +with Books ready for the Purpose. The young Man being come to this +Pinch, replies very smartly; Most invincible _Caesar_, I don't refuse to +give an Account, but am not very well skilled in these Sort of Accounts, +never having given any; but these that sit here are very ready at such +Accounts. If I do but once see how they make up such Accounts, I can +very easily imitate them. I entreat you to command them but to shew me +an Example, and they shall see I am very docible. _Caesar_ perceived +what he meant, but they, upon whom it was spoken did not, and smiling, +answered him, you say true, and what you demand is nothing but what is +reasonable: And so dismissed the young Man. For he intimated that they +used to bring in such Accounts to _Caesar_ as he had, that is, to keep a +good Part of the Money to themselves. + +_Le._ Now 'tis Time that our Story-telling should pass, as they say, +from better to worse, from Kings to _Anthony_, a Priest of _Louvain_, +who was much in Favour with _Philip_ surnamed _the Good_: there are a +great many Things told of this Man, both merrily said, and wittily done, +but most of them are something slovenly. For he used to season many of +his Jokes with a Sort of Perfume that has not a handsome Sound, but a +worse Scent. I'll pick out one of the cleanest of 'em. He had given an +Invitation to one or two merry Fellows that he had met with by Chance as +he went along; and when he comes Home, he finds a cold Kitchen; nor had +he any Money in his Pocket, which was no new Thing with him; here was +but little Time for Consultation. Away he goes, and says nothing, but +going into the Kitchen of a certain Usurer (that was an intimate +Acquaintance, by Reason of frequent Dealings with him) when the Maid was +gone out of the Way, he makes off with one of the Brass Pots, with the +Meat ready boiled, under his Coat, carries it Home, gives it his +Cook-Maid, and bids her pour out the Meat and Broth into another Earthen +Pot, and rub the Usurer's Brass one till it was bright. Having done +this, he sends his Boy to the Pawn-Broker to borrow two Groats upon it, +but charges him to take a Note, that should be a Testimonial, that such +a Pot had been sent him. The Pawn-Broker not knowing the Pot being +scour'd so bright, takes the Pawn, gives him a Note, and lays him down +the Money, and with that Money the Boy buys Wine, and so he provided an +Entertainment for him. By and by, when the Pawn-Broker's Dinner was +going to be taken up, the Pot was missing. He scolds at the Cook-Maid; +she being put hardly to it, affirmed no Body had been in the Kitchen all +that Day but _Anthony_. It seem'd an ill Thing to suspect a Priest. But +however at last they went to him, search'd the House for the Pot, but no +Pot was found. But in short, they charg'd him Home with the Pot, because +he was the only Person who had been in the Kitchen till the Pot was +missing. He confess'd that he had borrow'd a Pot, but that he had sent +it Home again to him from whom he had it. But they denying it stiffly, +and high Words arising, _Anthony_ calling some Witnesses, Look you, +quoth he, how dangerous a Thing it is to have to do with Men now-a-Days, +without a Note under their Hands: I should have been in Danger of being +indicted for Felony, if I had not had the Pawn-Broker's own Hand to +shew. And with that he produces the Note of his Hand. They perceiv'd the +Trick, and it made good Sport all the Country over, that the +Pawn-Broker had lent Money upon his own Porridge-Pot. Men are commonly +very well pleas'd with such Tricks, when they are put upon such as they +have no good Opinion of, especially such as use to impose upon other +Persons. + +_Adol._ In Truth, by mentioning the Name of _Anthony_, you have laid +open an Ocean of merry Stories; but I'll tell but one, and a short one +too, that was told me very lately. A certain Company of jolly Fellows, +who are for a short Life, and a merry one, as they call it, were making +merry together; among the rest there was one _Anthony_, and another +Person, a noted Fellow for an arch Trick, a second _Anthony_. And as +'tis the Custom of Philosophers, when they meet together to propound +some Questions or other about the Things of Nature, so in this Company a +Question was propos'd; Which was the most honourable Part of a Man? One +said the Eyes, another said the Heart, another said the Brain, and +others said other Parts; and every one alleg'd some Reason for his +Assertion. _Anthony_ was bid to speak his Mind, and he gave his Opinion +that the Mouth was the most honourable, and gave some Reason for't, I +can't tell what. Upon that the other Person, that he might thwart +_Anthony_, made Answer that that was the most honourable Part that we +sit upon; and when every one cry'd out, that was absurd, he back'd it +with this Reason, that he was commonly accounted the most honourable +that was first seated, and that this Honour was commonly done to the +Part that he spoke of. They applauded his Opinion, and laughed heartily +at it. The Man was mightily pleas'd with his Wit, and _Anthony_ seem'd +to have the worst on't. _Anthony_ turn'd the Matter off very well, +saying that he had given the prime Honour to the Mouth for no other +Reason, but because he knew that the other Man would name some other +Part, if it were but out of Envy to thwart him: A few Days after, when +they were both invited again to an Entertainment, _Anthony_ going in, +finds his Antagonist, talking with some other Persons, while Supper was +getting ready, and turning his Arse towards him, lets a great Fart full +in his Face. He being in a violent Passion, says to him, Out, you saucy +Fellow, where was you drag'd up? _At Hogs Norton_? Then says _Anthony_, +What, are you angry? If I had saluted you with my Mouth, you would have +answer'd me again; but now I salute you with the most honourable Part of +the Body, in your own Opinion, you call me saucy Fellow. And so +_Anthony_ regain'd the Reputation he had lost. We have every one told +our Tale. Now, Mr. Judge, it is your Business to pass Sentence. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll do that, but not before every Man has taken off his +Glass, and I'll lead the Way. But _talk of the Devil and he'll appear_. + +_Po._ _Levinus Panagathus_ brings no bad Luck along with him. + +_Lev._ Well, pray what Diversion has there been among this merry +Company? + +_Po._ What should we do but tell merry Stories till you come? + +_Lev._ Well then, I'm come to conclude the Meeting. I desire you all to +come to Morrow to eat a Theological Dinner with me. + +_Ge._ You tell us of a melancholy Entertainment indeed. + +_Lev._ That will appear. If you don't confess that it has been more +entertaining than your fabulous one, I'll be content to be amerc'd a +Supper; there is nothing more diverting than to treat of Trifles in a +serious Manner. + + + + +_The LYING-IN WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Lying-in Woman had rather have a Boy than a Girl. + Custom is a grievous Tyrant. A Woman argues that she is + as good as her Husband. The Dignity of 'em both are + compared. The Tongue is a Woman's best Weapon. The Mother + herself ought to be the Nurse. She is not the Mother that + bears the Child, but she that nurses it. The very Beasts + themselves suckle their own Young. The Nurse's Milk + corrupts oftentimes both the Genius and natural + Constitution of the Infant. The Souls of some Persons + inhabit Bodies ill organized._ Cato _judges it the + principal Part of Felicity, to dwell happily. She is + scarce half a Mother that refuses to bring up what she + has brought forth. A Mother is so called from [Greek: mê + têrein]. And in short, besides the Knowledge of a great + many Things in Nature, here are many that occur in + Morality._ + + +EUTRAPELUS, FABULLA. + +_Eu._ Honest _Fabulla_, I am glad to see you; I wish you well. + +_Fa._ I wish you well heartily, Eutrapelus. But what's the Matter more +than ordinary, that you that come so seldom to see me, are come now? +None of our Family has seen you this three Years. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you, as I chanced to go by the Door, I saw the Knocker +(called a Crow) tied up in a white Cloth, I wondered what was the +Matter. + +_Fa._ What! are you such a Stranger in this Country, as not to know that +that's a Token of a lying-in Woman in that House? + +_Eu._ Why, pray is it not a strange Sight to see a white Crow? But +without jesting, I did know very well what was the Matter; but I could +not dream, that you that are scarce sixteen, should learn so early the +difficult Art of getting Children, which some can scarce attain before +they are thirty. + +_Fa._ As you are _Eutrapelus_ by Name, so you are by Nature. + +_Eu._ And so are you too. For _Fabulla_ never wants a Fable. And while I +was in a Quandary, _Polygamus_ came by just in the Nick of Time. + +_Fa._ What he that lately buried his tenth Wife? + +_Eu._ The very same, but I believe you don't know that he goes a +courting as hotly as if he had lived all his Days a Batchelor. I ask'd +him what was the Matter; he told me that in this House the Body of a +Woman had been dissever'd. For what great Crime, says I? says he, If +what is commonly reported be true, the Mistress of this House attempted +to circumcise her Husband, and with that he went away laughing. + +_Fa._ He's a mere Wag. + +_Eu._ I presently ran in a-Doors to congratulate your safe Delivery. + +_Fa._ Congratulate my safe Delivery if you will, _Eutrapelus_, you may +congratulate my happy Delivery, when you shall see him that I have +brought forth give a Proof of himself to be an honest Man. + +_Eu._ Indeed, my _Fabulla_ you talk very piously and rationally. + +_Fa._ Nay, I am no Body's _Fabulla_ but _Petronius's._ + +_Eu._ Indeed you bear Children for _Petronius_ alone, but you don't live +for him alone, I believe. But however, I congratulate you upon this, +that you have got a Boy. + +_Fa._ But why do you think it better to have a Boy than a Girl? + +_Eu._ Nay, but rather you _Petronius's Fabulla_ (for now I am afraid to +call you mine) ought to tell me what Reason you Women have to wish for +Boys rather than Girls? + +_Fa._ I don't know what other People's Minds are; at this Time I am glad +I have a Boy, because so it pleased God. If it had pleased him best I +should have had a Girl, it would have pleased me best too. + +_Eu._ Do you think God has nothing else to do but be a Midwife to Women +in Labour? + +_Fa._ Pray, _Eutrapelus_, what should he do else, but preserve by +Propagation, what he has founded by Creation? + +Eu, What should he do else good Dame? If he were not God, he'd never be +able to do what he has to do. _Christiernus_ King of _Denmark_, a +religious Favourer of the Gospel, is in Exile. _Francis_, King of +_France_, is a Sojourner in _Spain._ I can't tell how well he may bear +it, but I am sure he is a Man that deserves better Fortune. _Charles_ +labours with might and main to inlarge the Territories of his Monarchy. +And _Ferdinand_ is mightily taken up about his Affairs in _Germany._ And +the Courtiers every where are almost Famished with Hunger after Money. +The very Farmers raise dangerous Commotions, nor are deterred from their +Attempts by so many Slaughters of Men, that have been made already. The +People are for setting up an Anarchy, and the Church goes to Ruin with +dangerous Factions. Christ's seamless Coat is rent asunder on all Sides. +God's Vineyard is spoiled by more Boars than one. The Authority of the +Clergy with their Tythes, the Dignity of Divines, the Majesty of Monks +is in Danger: Confession nods, Vows stagger, the Pope's Constitutions go +to decay, the Eucharist is call'd in Question, and Antichrist is +expected every Day, and the whole World seems to be in Travail to bring +forth I know not what Mischief. In the mean Time the _Turks_ over-run +all where-e'er they come, and are ready to invade us and lay all waste, +if they succeed in what they are about; and do you ask what God has +else to do? I think he should rather see to secure his own Kingdom in +Time. + +_Fa._ Perhaps that which Men make the greatest Account of, seems to God +of no Moment. But however, if you will, let us let God alone in this +Discourse of ours. What is your Reason to think it is happier to bear a +Boy than a Girl? It is the Part of a pious Person to think that best +which God, who without Controversy is the best Judge, has given. + +_Eu._ And if God should give you but a Cup made of Crystal, would you +not give him Thanks for it? + +_Fa._ Yes, I would. + +_Eu._ But what if he should give you one of common Glass, would you give +him the like Thanks? But I'm afraid instead of comforting you, by this +Discourse, I should make you uneasy. + +_Fa._ Nay, a _Fabulla_ can be in no Danger of being hurt by a Fable. I +have lain in now almost a Month, and I am strong enough for a Match at +Wrestling. + +_Eu._ Why don't you get out of your Bed then? + +_Fa._ The King has forbid me. + +_Eu._ What King? + +_Fa._ Nay a Tyrant rather. + +_Eu._ What Tyrant prithee? + +_Fa._ I'll tell you in one Syllable. Custom (_Mos_). + +_Eu._ Alas! How many Things does that Tyrant exact beyond the Bounds of +Equity? But let us go on to talk of our Crystal and our common Glass. + +_Fa._ I believe you judge, that a Male is naturally more excellent and +strong than a Female. + +_Eu._ I believe they are. + +_Fa._ That is Mens Opinion. But are Men any Thing longer-liv'd than +Women? Are they free from Distempers? + +_Eu._ No, but in the general they are stronger. + +_Fa._ But then they themselves are excell'd by Camels in Strength. + +_Eu._ But besides, the Male was created first. + +_Fa._ So was _Adam_ before _Christ_. Artists use to be most exquisite in +their later Performances. + +_Eu._ But God put the Woman under Subjection to the Man. + +_Fa._ It does not follow of Consequence, that he is the better because +he commands, he subjects her as a Wife, and not purely as a Woman; and +besides that he so puts the Wife under Subjection, that tho' they have +each of them Power over the other, he will have the Woman to be obedient +to the Man, not as to the more excellent, but to the more fierce Person. +Tell me, _Eutrapelus_, which is the weaker Person, he that yields to +another, or he that is yielded to? + +_Eu._ I'll grant you that, if you will explain to me, what Paul meant +when he wrote to the _Corinthians_, that _Christ was the Head of the +Man, and Man the Head of the Woman;_ and again, when he said, that _a +Man was the Image and Glory of God, and a Woman the Glory of the Man._ + +_Fa._ Well! I'll resolve you that, if you answer me this Question, +Whether or no, it is given to Men alone, to be the Members of Christ? + +_Eu._ God forbid, that is given to all Men and Women too by Faith. + +_Fa._ How comes it about then, that when there is but one Head, it +should not be common to all the Members? And besides that, since God +made Man in his own Image, whether did he express this Image in the +Shape of his Body, or the Endowments of his Mind? + +_Eu._ In the Endowments of his Mind. + +_Fa._ Well, and I pray what have Men in these more excellent than we +have? In both Sexes, there are many Drunkennesses, Brawls, Fightings, +Murders, Wars, Rapines, and Adulteries. + +_Eu._ But we Men alone fight for our Country. + +_Fa._ And you Men often desert from your Colours, and run away like +Cowards; and it is not always for the Sake of your Country, that you +leave your Wives and Children, but for the Sake of a little nasty Pay; +and, worse than Fencers at the Bear-Garden, you deliver up your Bodies +to a slavish Necessity of being killed, or yourselves killing others. +And now after all your Boasting of your warlike Prowess, there is none +of you all, but if you had once experienced what it is to bring a Child +into the World, would rather be placed ten Times in the Front of a +Battle, than undergo once what we must so often. An Army does not always +fight, and when it does, the whole Army is not always engaged. Such as +you are set in the main Body, others are kept for Bodies of Reserve, and +some are safely posted in the Rear; and lastly, many save themselves by +surrendring, and some by running away. We are obliged to encounter +Death, Hand to Hand. + +_Eu._ I have heard these Stories before now; but the Question is, +Whether they are true or not? + +_Fa._ Too true. + +_Eu._ Well then, _Fabulla_, would you have me persuade your Husband +never to touch you more? For if so, you'll be secure from that Danger. + +_Fa._ In Truth, there is nothing in the World I am more desirious of, if +you were able to effect it. + +_Eu._ If I do persuade him to it, what shall I have for my Pains? + +_Fa._ I'll present you with half a Score dry'd Neats-Tongues. + +_Eu._ I had rather have them than the Tongues of ten Nightingales. Well, +I don't dislike the Condition, but we won't make the Bargain obligatory, +before we have agreed on the Articles. + +_Fa._ And if you please, you may add any other Article. + +_Eu._ That shall be according as you are in the Mind after your Month is +up. + +_Fa._ But why not according as I am in the Mind now? + +_Eu._ Why, I'll tell you, because I am afraid you will not be in the +same Mind then; and so you would have double Wages to pay, and I double +Work to do, of persuading and dissuading him. + +_Fa._ Well, let it be as you will then. But come on, shew me why the Man +is better than the Woman. + +_Eu._ I perceive you have a Mind to engage with me in Discourse, but I +think it more adviseable to yield to you at this Time. At another Time +I'll attack you when I have furnished myself with Arguments; but not +without a Second neither. For where the Tongue is the Weapon that +decides the Quarrel; seven Men are scarce able to Deal with one Woman. + +_Fa._ Indeed the Tongue is a Woman's Weapon; but you Men are not without +it neither. + +_Eu._ Perhaps so, but where is your little Boy? + +_Fa._ In the next Room. + +_Eu._ What is he doing there, cooking the Pot? + +_Fa._ You Trifler, he's with his Nurse. + +_Eu._ What Nurse do you talk of? Has he any Nurse but his Mother? + +_Fa._ Why not? It is the Fashion. + +_Eu._ You quote the worst Author in the World, _Fabulla_, the Fashion; +'tis the Fashion to do amiss, to game, to whore, to cheat, to be drunk, +and to play the Rake. + +_Fa._ My Friends would have it so; they were of Opinion I ought to +favour myself, being young. + +_Eu._ But if Nature gives Strength to conceive, it doubtless gives +Strength to give Suck too. + +_Fa._ That may be. + +_Eu._ Prithee tell me, don't you think Mother is a very pretty Name? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ And if such a Thing were possible, would you endure it, that +another Woman should be call'd the Mother of your Child? + +_Fa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ Why then do you voluntarily make another Woman more than half the +Mother of what you have brought into the World? + +_Fa._ O fy! _Eutrapelus_, I don't divide my Son in two, I am intirely +his Mother, and no Body in the World else. + +_Eu._ Nay, _Fabulla_, in this Case Nature herself blames you to your +Face. Why is the Earth call'd the Mother of all Things? Is it because +she produces only? Nay, much rather, because she nourishes those Things +she produces: that which is produced by Water, is fed by Water. There is +not a living Creature or a Plant that grows on the Face of the Earth, +that the Earth does not feed with its own Moisture. Nor is there any +living Creature that does not feed its own Offspring. Owls, Lions, and +Vipers, feed their own Young, and does Womankind make her Offspring +Offcasts? Pray, what can be more cruel than they are, that turn their +Offspring out of Doors for Laziness, not to supply them with Food? + +_Fa._ That you talk of is abominable. + +_Eu._ But Womankind don't abominate it. Is it not a Sort of turning out +of Doors, to commit a tender little Infant, yet reaking of the Mother, +breathing the very Air of the Mother, imploring the Mother's Aid and +Help with its Voice, which they say will affect even a brute Creature, +to a Woman perhaps that is neither wholsome in Body, nor honest, who has +more Regard to a little Wages, than to your Child? + +_Fa._ But they have made Choice of a wholsome, sound Woman. + +_Eu._ Of this the Doctors are better Judges than yourself. But put the +Case, she is as healthful as yourself, and more too; do you think there +is no Difference between your little tender Infant's sucking its natural +and familiar Milk, and being cherish'd with Warmth it has been +accustomed to, and its being forc'd to accustom itself to those of a +Stranger? Wheat being sown in a strange Soil, degenerates into Oats or +small Wheat. A Vine being transplanted into another Hill, changes its +Nature. A Plant when it is pluck'd from its Parent Earth, withers, and +as it were dies away, and does in a Manner the same when it is +transplanted from its Native Earth. + +_Fa._ Nay, but they say, Plants that have been transplanted and grafted, +lose their wild Nature, and produce better Fruit. + +_Eu._ But not as soon as ever they peep out of the Ground, good Madam. +There will come a Time, by the Grace of God, when you will send away +your young Son from you out of Doors, to be accomplish'd with Learning +and undergo harsh Discipline, and which indeed is rather the Province of +the Father than of the Mother. But now its tender Age calls for +Indulgence. And besides, whereas the Food, according as it is, +contributes much to the Health and Strength of the Body, so more +especially it is essential to take Care, with what Milk that little, +tender, soft Body be season'd. For _Horace's_ Saying takes Place here. +_Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu. What is bred in +the Bone, will never out of the Flesh._ + +_Fa._ I don't so much concern myself as to his Body, so his Mind be but +as I would have it. + +_Eu._ That indeed is piously spoken, but not philosophically. + +_Fa._ Why not? + +_Eu._ Why do you when you shred Herbs, complain your Knife is blunt, and +order it to be whetted? Why do you reject a blunt pointed Needle, when +that does not deprive you of your Art? + +_Fa._ Art is not wanting, but an unfit Instrument hinders the exerting +it. + +_Eu._ Why do they that have much Occasion to use their Eyes, avoid +Darnel and Onions? + +_Fa._ Because they hurt the Sight. + +_Eu._ Is it not the Mind that sees? + +_Fa._ It is, for those that are dead see nothing. But what can a +Carpenter do with an Ax whose Edge is spoiled? + +_Eu._ Then you do acknowledge the Body is the Organ of the Mind? + +_Fa._ That's plain. + +_Eu._ And you grant that in a vitiated Body the Mind either cannot act +at all, or if it does, it is with Inconvenience? + +_Fa._ Very likely. + +_Eu._ Well, I find I have an intelligent Person to deal with; suppose +the Soul of a Man was to pass into the Body of a Cock, would it make the +same Sound it does now? + +_Fa._ No to be sure. + +_Eu._ What would hinder? + +_Fa._ Because it would want Lips, Teeth, and a Tongue, like to that of a +Man. It has neither the Epiglottis, nor the three Cartilages, that are +moved by three Muscles, to which Nerves are joined that come from the +Brain; nor has it Jaws and Teeth like a Man's. + +_Eu._ What if it should go into the Body of a Swine? + +_Fa._ Then it would grunt like a Swine. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of a Camel? + +_Fa._ It would make a Noise like a Camel. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of an Ass, as it happened to +_Apuleius_? + +_Fa._ Then I think it would bray as an Ass does. + +_Eu._ Indeed he is a Proof of this, who when he had a Mind to call after +_Caesar_, having contracted his Lips as much as he possibly could, +scarce pronounced O, but could by no Means pronounce _Caesar._ The same +Person, when having heard a Story, and that he might not forget it, +would have written it, reprehended himself for his foolish Thought, when +he beheld his solid Hoofs. + +_Fa._ And he had Cause enough. + +_Eu._ Then it follows that the Soul does not see well thro' purblind +Eyes. The Ears hear not clearly when stopped with Filth. The Brain +smells not so well when oppressed with Phlegm. And a Member feels not so +much when it is benumbed. The Tongue tastes less, when vitiated with ill +Humours. + +_Fa._ These Things can't be denied. + +_Eu._ And for no other Cause, but because the Organ is vitiated. + +_Fa._ I believe the same. + +_Eu._ Nor will you deny, I suppose, that sometimes it is vitiated by +Food and Drink. + +_Fa._ I'll grant that too, but what signifies that to the Goodness of +the Mind? + +_Eu._ As much as Darnel does to a clear Eye-Sight. + +_Fa._ Because it vitiates the Organ. + +_Eu._ Well answer'd. But solve me this Difficulty: Why is it that one +understands quicker than another, and has a better Memory; why is one +more prone to Anger than another; or is more moderate in his Resentment? + +_Fa._ It proceeds from the Disposition of the Mind. + +_Eu._ That won't do. Whence comes it that one who was formerly of a very +ready Wit, and a retentive Memory, becomes afterwards stupid and +forgetful, either by a Blow or a Fall, by Sickness or old Age? + +_Fa._ Now you seem to play the Sophister with me. + +_Eu._ Then do you play the Sophistress with me. + +_Fa._ I suppose you would infer, that as the Mind sees and hears by the +Eyes and Ears, so by some Organs it also understands, remembers, loves, +hates, is provoked and appeas'd? + +_Eu._ Right. + +_Fa._ But pray what are those Organs, and where are they situated? + +_Eu._ As to the Eyes, you see where they are. + +_Fa._ I know well enough where the Ears, and the Nose, and the Palate +are; and that the Body is all over sensible of the Touch, unless when +some Member is seized with a Numbness. + +_Eu._ When a Foot is cut off, yet the Mind understands. + +_Fa._ It does so, and when a Hand is cut off too. + +_Eu._ A Person that receives a violent Blow on the Temples, or +hinder-Part of his Head, falls down like one that is dead, and is +unsensible. + +_Fa._ I have sometimes seen that myself. + +_Eu._ Hence it is to be collected, that the Organs of the Will, +Understanding, and Memory, are placed within the Skull, being not so +crass as the Eyes and Ears, and yet are material, in as much as the most +subtile Spirits that we have in the Body are corporeal. + +_Fa._ And can they be vitiated with Meat and Drink too? + +_Eu._ Yes. + +_Fa._ The Brain is a great Way off from the Stomach. + +_Eu._ And so is the Funnel of a Chimney from the Fire-Hearth, yet if +you sit upon it you'll feel the Smoke. + +_Fa._ I shan't try that Experiment. + +_Eu._ Well, if you won't believe me, ask the Storks. And so it is of +Moment what Spirits, and what Vapours ascend from the Stomach to the +Brain, and the Organs of the Mind. For if these are crude or cold they +stay in the Stomach. + +_Fa._ Pshaw! You're describing to me an Alembick, in which we distil +Simple-Waters. + +_Eu._ You don't guess much amiss. For the Liver, to which the Gall +adheres, is the Fire-Place; the Stomach, the Pan; the Scull, the Top of +the Still; and if you please, you may call the Nose the Pipe of it. And +from this Flux or Reflux of Humours, almost all Manner of Diseases +proceed, according as a different Humour falls down after a different +Manner, sometimes into the Eyes, sometimes into the Stomach, sometimes +into the Shoulders, and sometimes into the Neck, and elsewhere. And that +you may understand me the better, why have those that guzzle a great +Deal of Wine bad Memories? Why are those that feed upon light Food, not +of so heavy a Disposition? Why does Coriander help the Memory? Why does +Hellebore purge the Memory? Why does a great Expletion cause an +Epilepsy, which at once brings a Stupor upon all the Senses, as in a +profound Sleep? In the last Place, as violent Thirst or Want weaken the +Strength of Wit or Memory in Boys, so Food eaten immoderately makes Boys +dull-headed, if we believe _Aristotle_; in that the Fire of the Mind is +extinguish'd by the heaping on too much Matter. + +_Fa._ Why then, is the Mind corporeal, so as to be affected with +corporeal Things? + +_Eu._ Indeed the Nature itself of the rational Soul is not corrupted; +but the Power and Action of it are impeded by the Organs being vitiated, +as the Art of an Artist will stand him in no Stead, if he has not +Instruments. + +_Fa._ Of what Bulk, and in what Form is the Mind? + +_Eu._ You ask a ridiculous Question, what Bulk and Form the Mind is of, +when you have allow'd it to be incorporeal. + +_Fa._ I mean the Body that is felt. + +_Eu._ Nay, those Bodies that are not to be felt are the most perfect +Bodies, as God and the Angels. + +_Fa._ I have heard that God and Angels are Spirits, but we feel the +Spirit. + +_Eu._ The Holy Scriptures condescend to those low Expressions, because +of the Dullness of Men, to signify a Mind pure from all Commerce of +sensible Things. + +_Fa._ Then what is the Difference between an Angel and a Mind? + +_Eu._ The same that is between a Snail and a Cockle, or, if you like the +Comparison better, a Tortoise. + +_Fa._ Then the Body is rather the Habitation of the Mind than the +Instrument of it. + +_Eu._ There is no Absurdity in calling an adjunct Instrument an +Habitation. Philosophers are divided in their Opinions about this. Some +call the Body the Garment of the Soul, some the House, some the +Instrument, and some the Harmony; call it by which of these you will, it +will follow that the Actions of the Mind are impeded by the Affections +of the Body. In the first Place, if the Body is to the Mind that which a +Garment is to the Body, the Garment of _Hercules_ informs us how much a +Garment contributes to the Health of the Body, not to take any Notice of +Colours of Hairs or of Skins. But as to that Question, whether one and +the same Soul is capable of wearing out many Bodies, it shall be left to +_Pythagoras_. + +_Fa._ If, according to _Pythagoras_, we could make Use of Change of +Bodies, as we do of Apparel, it would be convenient to take a fat Body, +and of a thick Texture, in Winter Time, and a thinner and lighter Body +in Summer Time. + +_Eu._ But I am of the Opinion, that if we wore out our Body at last as +we do our Cloaths; it would not be convenient; for so having worn out +many Bodies, the Soul itself would grow old and die. + +_Fa._ It would not truly. + +_Eu._ As the Sort of Garment that is worn hath an Influence on the +Health and Agility of the Body, so it is of great Moment what Body the +Soul wears. + +_Fa._ If indeed the Body is the Garment of the Soul, I see a great many +that are dress'd after a very different Manner. + +_Eu._ Right, and yet some Part of this Matter is in our own Power, how +conveniently our Souls shall be cloathed. + +_Fa._ Come, have done with the Garment, and say something concerning the +Habitation. + +_Eu._ But, _Fabulla_, that what I say to you mayn't be thought a +Fiction, the _Lord Jesus_ calls his Body a _Temple_, and the Apostle +_Peter_ calls his a _Tabernacle_. And there have been some that have +call'd the Body the Sepulchre of the Soul, supposing it was call'd +[Greek: sôma], as tho' it were [Greek: sêma]. Some call it the Prison of +the Mind, and some the Fortress or fortify'd Castle. The Minds of +Persons that are pure in every Part, dwell in the Temple. They whose +Minds are not taken up with the Love of corporeal Things, dwell in a +Tent, and are ready to come forth as soon as the Commander calls. The +Soul of those that are wholly blinded with Vice and Filthiness, so that +they never breathe after the Air of Gospel Liberty, lies in a Sepulchre. +But they that wrestle hard with their Vices, and can't yet be able to do +what they would do, their Soul dwells in a Prison, whence they +frequently cry out to the Deliverer of all, _Bring my Soul out of +Prison, that I may praise thy Name, O Lord._ They who fight strenuously +with Satan, watching and guarding against his Snares, who goes about as +_a roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour;_ their Soul is as it were +in a Garison, out of which they must not go without the General's Leave. + +_Fa._ If the Body be the Habitation or House of the Soul, I see a great +many whose Mind is very illy seated. + +_Eu._ It is so, that is to say, in Houses where it rains in, that are +dark, exposed to all Winds, that are smoaky, damp, decay'd, and ruinous, +and such as are filthy and infected: and yet _Cato_ accounts it the +principal Happiness of a Man, to dwell handsomly. + +_Fa._ It were tolerable, if there was any passing out of one House into +another. + +_Eu._ There's no going out before the Landlord calls out. But tho' we +can't go out, yet we may by our Art and Care make the Habitation of our +Mind commodious; as in a House the Windows are changed, the Floor taken +up, the Walls are either plaistered or wainscotted, and the Situation +may be purified with Fire or Perfume. But this is a very hard Matter, in +an old Body that is near its Ruin. But it is of great Advantage to the +Body of a Child, to take the Care of it that ought to be taken presently +after its Birth. + +_Fa._ You would have Mothers and Nurses to be Doctors. + +_Eu._ So indeed I would, as to the Choice and moderate Use of Meat, +Drink, Motion, Sleep, Baths, Unctions, Frictions, and Cloathings. How +many are there, think you, who are expos'd to grievous Diseases and +Vices, as Epilepsies, Leanness, Weakness, Deafness, broken Backs, +crooked Limbs, a weak Brain, disturbed Minds, and for no other Reason +than that their Nurses have not taken a due Care of them? + +_Fa._ I wonder you are not rather a _Franciscan_ than a Painter, who +preach so finely. + +_Eu._ When you are a Nun of the Order of St. _Clare_, then I'll be a +_Franciscan_, and preach to you. + +_Fa._ In Truth, I would fain know what the Soul is, about which we hear +so much, and talk of so often, and no Body has seen. + +_Eu._ Nay, every Body sees it that has Eyes. + +_Fa._ I see Souls painted in the Shape of little Infants, but why do +they put Wings to them as they do to Angels? + +_Eu._ Why, because, if we can give any Credit to the Fables of +_Socrates_, their Wings were broken by their falling from Heaven. + +_Fa._ How then are they said to fly up to Heaven? + +_Eu._ Because Faith and Charity make their Wings grow again. He that was +weary of this House of his Body, begg'd for these Wings, when he cry'd +out, _Who will give me the Wings of a Dove, that I may fly away, and be +at rest_. Nor has the Soul any other Wings, being incorporeal, nor any +Form that can be beheld by the Eyes of the Body. But those Things that +are perceiv'd by the Mind, are more certain. Do you believe the Being of +God? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ But nothing is more invisible than God. + +_Fa._ He is seen in the Works of Creation. + +_Eu._ In like Manner the Soul is seen in Action. If you would know how +it acts in a living Body, consider a dead Body. When you see a Man Feel, +See, Hear, Move, Understand, Remember and Reason, you see the Soul to be +in him with more Certainty than you see this Tankard; for one Sense may +be deceiv'd, but so many Proofs of the Senses cannot deceive you. + +_Fa._ Well then, if you can't shew me the Soul, paint it out to me, just +as you would the King, whom I never did see. + +_Eu._ I have _Aristotle_'s Definition ready for you. + +_Fa._ What is it? for they say he was a very good Decypherer of every +Thing. + +_Eu. The Soul is the Act of an Organical, Physical Body, having Life_ in +Potentia. + +_Fa._ Why does he rather call it an _Act_ than a _Journey_ or _Way?_ + +_Eu._ Here's no Regard either to Coachmen or Horsemen, but a bare +Definition of the Soul. And he calls the Form _Act_, the Nature of which +is to _act_, when it is the Property of Matter to _suffer_. For all +natural Motion of the Body proceeds from the Soul. And the Motion of the +Body is various. + +_Fa._ I take that in; but why does he add _of an Organical_? + +_Eu._ Because the Soul does nothing but by the Help of Organs, that is, +by the Instruments of the Body. + +_Fa._ Why does he say _Physical_? + +_Eu._ Because _Dædalus_ made such a Body to no Purpose; and therefore he +adds, _having Life_ in Potentia. Form does not act upon every Thing; but +upon a Body that is capable. + +_Fa._ What if an Angel should pass into the Body of a Man? + +_Eu._ He would act indeed, but not by the natural Organs, nor would he +give Life to the Body if the Soul was absent from it. + +_Fa._ Have I had all the Account that is to be given of the Soul? + +_Eu._ You have _Aristotle_'s Account of it. + +_Fa._ Indeed I have heard he was a very famous Philosopher, and I am +afraid that the College of Sages would prefer a Bill of Heresy against +me, if I should say any Thing against him; but else all that he has said +concerning the Soul of a Man, is as applicable to the Soul of an Ass or +an Ox. + +_Eu._ Nay, that's true, or to a Beetle or a Snail. + +_Fa._ What Difference then is there between the Soul of an Ox, and that +of a Man? + +_Eu._ They that say the Soul is nothing else but the Harmony of the +Qualities of the Body, would confess that there was no great Difference; +and that this Harmony being interrupted, the Souls of both of them do +perish. The Soul of a Man and an Ox is not distinguished; but that of an +Ox has less Knowledge than the Soul of a Man. And there are some Men to +be seen that have less Understanding than an Ox. + +_Fa._ In Truth, they have the Mind of an Ox. + +_Eu._ This indeed concerns you, that according to the Quality of your +Guittar, your Musick will be the sweeter. + +_Fa._ I own it. + +_Eu._ Nor is it of small Moment of what Wood, and in what Shape your +Guittar is made. + +_Fa._ Very true. + +_Eu._ Nor are Fiddle-Strings made of the Guts of every Animal. + +_Fa._ So I have heard. + +_Eu._ They grow slack or tight by the Moisture and Driness of the +circumambient Air, and will sometimes break. + +_Fa._ I have seen that more than once. + +_Eu._ On this Account you may do uncommon Service to your little +Infant, that his Mind may have an Instrument well tempered, and not +vitiated, nor relaxed by Sloth, nor squeaking with Wrath, nor hoarse +with intemperate drinking. For Education and Diet oftentimes impress us +with these Affections. + +_Fa._ I'll take your Counsel; but I want to hear how you can defend +_Aristotle_. + +_Eu._ He indeed in general describes the Soul, Animal, Vegetative, and +Sensitive. The Soul gives Life, but every Thing that has Life is not an +Animal. For Trees live, grow old, and die; but they have no Sense; tho' +some attribute to them a stupid Sort of Sense. In Things that adhere one +to another, there is no Sense to be perceived, but it is found in a +Sponge by those that pull it off. Hewers discover a Sense in +Timber-Trees, if we may believe them: For they say, that if you strike +the Trunk of a Tree that you design to hew down, with the Palm of your +Hand, as Wood-Mongers use to do, it will be harder to cut that Tree down +because it has contracted itself with Fear. But that which has Life and +Feeling is an Animal. But nothing hinders that which does not feel, from +being a Vegetable, as Mushrooms, Beets, and Coleworts. + +_Fa._ If they have a Sort of Life, a Sort of Sense, and Motion in their +growing, what hinders but that they may be honoured with the Title of +Animals? + +_Eu._ Why the Antients did not think fit to call them so, and we must +not deviate from their Ordinances, nor does it signify much as to what +we are upon. + +_Fa._ But I can't bear the Thoughts on't, that the Soul of a Beetle and +of a Man should be the same. + +_Eu._ Good Madam, it is not the same, saving in some Respects; your Soul +animates, vegetates, and renders your Body sensible; the Soul of the +Beetle animates his Body: For that some Things act one Way, and some +another, that the Soul of a Man acts differently from the Soul of a +Beetle, partly proceeds from the Matter; a Beetle neither sings nor +speaks, because it wants Organs fit for these Actions. + +_Fa._ Why then you say, that if the Soul of a Beetle should pass into +the Body of a Man, it would act as the human Soul does. + +_Eu._ Nay, I say not, if it were an angelical Soul: And there is no +Difference between an Angel and a human Soul, but that the Soul of a Man +was formed to act a human Body compos'd of natural Organs; and as the +Soul of a Beetle will move nothing but the Body of a Beetle, an Angel +was not made to animate a Body, but to be capable to understand without +bodily Organs. + +_Fa._ Can the Soul do the same Thing? + +_Eu._ It can indeed, when it is separated from the Body. + +_Fa._ Is it not at its own Disposal, while it is in the Body? + +_Eu._ No indeed, except something happen beside the common Course of +Nature. + +_Fa._ In Truth, instead of one Soul you have given me a great many; an +animal, a vegetative, a sensitive, an intelligent, a remembring, a +willing, an angry, and desiring: One was enough for me. + +_Eu._ There are different Actions of the same Soul, and these have +different Names. + +_Fa._ I don't well understand you. + +_Eu._ Well then, I'll make you understand me: You are a Wife in the +Bed-Chamber, in your Work-Shop a Weaver of Hangings, in your Warehouse a +Seller of them, in your Kitchen a Cook, among your Servants a Mistress, +and among your Children a Mother; and yet you are all these in the same +House. + +_Fa._ You philosophize very bluntly. Is then the Soul so in the Body as +I am in my House? + +_Eu._ It is. + +_Fa._ But while I am weaving in my Work-Shop, I am not cooking in my +Kitchen. + +_Eu._ Nor are you all Soul, but a Soul carrying about a Body, and the +Body can't be in many Places at the same Time; but the Soul being a +simple Form, is so in the whole Body, tho' it does not act the same in +all Parts of the Body, nor after the same Manner, how differently +affected soever they are: For it understands and remembers in the Brain, +it is angry in the Heart, it lusts in the Liver, it hears with the Ears, +sees with the Eyes, smells with the Nose, it tastes in the Palate and +Tongue, and feels in all Parts of the Body which are adjoined to any +nervous Part: But it does not feel in the Hair, nor the Ends of the +Nails; neither do the Lungs feel of themselves, nor the Liver, nor +perhaps the Milt neither. + +_Fa._ So that in certain Parts of the Body it only animates and +vegetates. + +_Eu._ It should seem so. + +_Fa._ If one and the same Soul does all these Things in one and the same +Man, it follows of Consequence, that the _Foetus_ in the Womb of the +Mother, both feels and understands, as soon as it begins to grow; which +is a Sign of Life, unless a Man in his Formation has more Souls than +one, and afterwards the rest giving Place, one acts all. So that at +first a Man is a Plant, then an Animal, and lastly a Man. + +_Eu._ Perhaps _Aristotle_ would not think what you say absurd: I think +it is more probable, that the rational Soul is infus'd with the Life, +and that like a little Fire that is buried as it were under too great a +Quantity of green Wood, it cannot exert its Power. + +_Fa._ Why then is the Soul bound to the Body that it acts and moves? + +_Eu._ No otherwise than a Tortoise is bound or tied to the Shell that he +carries about. + +_Fa._ He does move it indeed; but so at the same Time that he moves +himself too, as a Pilot steers a Ship, turning it which Way he will, and +is at the same Time mov'd with it. + +_Eu._ Ay, and as a Squirrel turns his Wheel-Cage about, and is himself +carried about with it. + +_Fa._ And so the Soul affects the Body, and is affected by the Body. + +_Eu._ Yes indeed, as to its Operations. + +_Fa._ Why then, as to the Nature of it, the Soul of a Fool is equal to +the Soul of _Solomon_. + +_Eu._ There's no Absurdity in that. + +_Fa._ And so the Angels are equal, in as much as they are without +Matter, which, you say, is that which makes the Inequality. + +_Eu._ We have had Philosophy enough: Let Divines puzzle themselves about +these Things; let us discourse of those Matters that were first +mentioned. If you would be a compleat Mother, take Care of the Body of +your little Infant, so that after the little Fire of the Mind has +disengaged itself from the Vapours, it may have sound and fit Organs to +make Use of. As often as you hear your Child crying, think this with +yourself, he calls for this from me. When you look upon your Breasts, +those two little Fountains, turgid, and of their own Accord streaming +out a milky Juice, remember Nature puts you in Mind of your Duty: Or +else, when your Infant shall begin to speak, and with his pretty +Stammering shall call you _Mammy_, How can you hear it without blushing? +when you have refus'd to let him have it, and turn'd him off to a +hireling Nipple, as if you had committed him to a Goat or a Sheep. When +he is able to speak, what if, instead of calling you Mother, he should +call you Half-Mother? I suppose you would whip him: Altho' indeed she is +scarce Half a Mother that refuses to feed what she has brought into the +World. The nourishing of the tender Babe is the best Part of Geniture: +For he is not only fed by the Milk, but with the Fragrancy of the Body +of the Mother. He requires the same natural, familiar, accustomed +Moisture, that he drew in when in her Body, and by which he received his +Coalition. And I am of that Opinion, that the Genius of Children are +vitiated by the Nature of the Milk they suck, as the Juices of the Earth +change the Nature of those Plants and Fruits that it feeds. Do you think +there is no Foundation in Reason for this Saying, _He suck'd in this ill +Humour with the Nurse's Milk?_ Nor do I think the Greeks spoke without +Reason, when they said _like Nurses_, when they would intimate that any +one was starved at Nurse: For they put a little of what they chew into +the Child's Mouth, but the greatest Part goes down their own Throats. +And indeed she can hardly properly be said to bear a Child, that throws +it away as soon as she has brought it forth; that is to miscarry, and +the _Greek_ Etymology of [Greek: Mêtêr] from [Greek: mê têrein], _i.e._ +from not looking after, seems very well to suit such Mothers. For it is +a Sort of turning a little Infant out of Doors, to put it to a hireling +Nurse, while it is yet warm from the Mother. + +_Fa._ I would come over to your Opinion, unless such a Woman were +chosen, against whom there is nothing to be objected. + +_Eu._ Suppose it were of no Moment what Milk the little Infant suck'd, +what Spittle it swallow'd with its chew'd Victuals; and you had such a +Nurse, that I question whether there is such an one to be found; do you +think there is any one in the World will go through all the Fatigue of +Nursing as the Mother herself; the Bewrayings, the Sitting up a Nights, +the Crying, the Sickness, and the diligent Care in looking after it, +which can scarce be enough. If there can be one that loves like the +Mother, then she will take Care like a Mother. And besides, this will be +the Effect of it, that your Son won't love you so heartily, that native +Affection being as it were divided between two Mothers; nor will you +have the same Affection for your Son: So that when he is grown up, he +will neither be so obedient to you, nor will you have the same Regard +for him, perhaps perceiving in him the Disposition of his Nurse. The +principal Step to Advancement in Learning, is the mutual Love between +the Teacher and Scholar: So that if he does not lose any Thing of the +Fragrancy of his native good Temper, you will with the greater Ease be +able to instil into him the Precepts of a good Life. And a Mother can do +much in this Matter, in that she has pliable Matter to work upon, that +is easy to be carried any Way. + +_Fa._ I find it is not so easy a Thing to be a Mother, as it is +generally looked upon to be. + +_Eu._ If you can't depend upon what I say, St. _Paul_, speaking very +plainly of Women, says, _She shall be saved in Childbearing._ + +_Fa._ Are all the Women saved that bear Children? + +_Eu._ No, he adds, _if she continue in the Faith_. You have not +performed the Duty of a Mother before you have first formed the little +tender Body of your Son, and after that his Mind, equally soft, by a +good Education. + +_Fa._ But it is not in the Power of the Mother that the Children should +persevere in Piety. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it may not be; but a careful Admonition is of that Moment, +that _Paul_ accounts it imputable to Mothers, if the Children degenerate +from Piety. But in the last Place, if you do what is in your Power, God +will add his Assistance to your Diligence. + +_Fa._ Indeed _Eutrapelus_, your Discourse has persuaded me, if you can +but persuade my Parents and my Husband. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll take that upon me, if you will but lend your helping +Hand. + +_Fa._ I promise you I will. + +_Eu._ But mayn't a Body see this little Boy? + +_Fa._ Yes, that you may and welcome. Do you hear, _Syrisca_, bid the +Nurse bring the Child. + +_Eu._ 'Tis a very pretty Boy. It is a common Saying, there ought to be +Grains of Allowance given to the first Essay: But you upon the first +Trial have shewn the very highest Pitch of Art. + +_Fa._ Why, it is not a Piece of carved Work, that so much Art should be +required. + +_Eu._ That's true; but it is a Piece of cast Work. Well, let that be how +it will, it is well performed. I wish you could make as good Figures in +the Hangings that you weave. + +_Fa._ But you on the Contrary paint better than you beget. + +_Eu._ It so seems meet to Nature, to act equally by all. How solicitous +is Nature, that nothing should be lost! It has represented two Persons +in one; here's the Nose and Eyes of the Father, the Forehead and Chin of +the Mother Can you find in your Heart to entrust this dear Pledge to +the Fidelity of a Stranger? I think those to be doubly cruel that can +find in their Hearts so to do; because in doing so, they do not only do +this to the Hazard of the Child; but also of themselves too; because in +the Child, the spoiling of the Milk oftentimes brings dangerous +Diseases, and so it comes about, that while Care is taken to preserve +the Shape of one Body, the Lives of two Bodies are not regarded; and +while they provide against old Age coming on too early, they throw +themselves into a too early Death. What's the Boy's Name? + +_Fa. Cornelius_. + +_Eu._ That's the Name of his Grand-Father by the Father's Side. I wish +he may imitate him in his unblemished Life and good Manners. + +_Fa._ We will do our Endeavour what in us lies. But, hark ye, +_Eutrapelus_, here is one Thing I would earnestly entreat of you. + +_Eu._ I am entirely at your Service; command what you will, I will +undertake it. + +_Fa._ Well then, I won't discharge you till you have finished the good +Service that you have begun. + +_Eu._ What's that? + +_Fa._ First of all, to give me Instructions how I may manage my Infant, +as to his Health, and when he is grown up, how I may form his Mind with +pious Principles. + +_Eu._ That I will readily do another Time, according to my Ability; but +that must be at our next Conversation: I will now go and prevail upon +your Husband and Parents. + +_Fa._ I wish you may succeed. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I., by Erasmus + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14031 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..327906f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14031 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14031) diff --git a/old/14031-8.txt b/old/14031-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3dd2be --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14031-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20021 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I., by Erasmus + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I. + +Author: Erasmus + +Release Date: November 12, 2004 [EBook #14031] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS, VOLUME I. *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Virginia Paque and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +The Colloquies of Erasmus. + +TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY. + +_Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M.A._ + +VOL. I. + +LONDON: 1878. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +VOL. I. + +_Prefatory Note_ +_Dedication_ +_Admonitory Note_ +_To the Divines of_ Louvain +_Copy of_ Bailey's _Title_ +Bailey's _Preface_ +_Life of_ Erasmus +_Courtesy in Saluting_ +_Family Discourse_ +_Of Rash Vows_ +_Of Benefice-Hunters_ +_Of a Soldier's Life_ +_The Commands of a Master_ +_The School-master's Admonitions_ +_Of Various Plays_ +_The Child's Piety_ +_The Art of Hunting_ +_Scholastic Studies_ +_The Profane Feast_ +_The Religious Treat_ +_The Apotheosis of_ Capnio +_A Lover and Maiden_ +_The Virgin Averse to Matrimony_ +_The Penitent Virgin_ +_The Uneasy Wife_ +_The Soldier and Carthusian_ +Philetymus _and_ Pseudocheus +_The Shipwreck_ +_Diversoria_ +_Young Man and Harlot_ +_The Poetical Feast_ +_An Enquiry concerning Faith_ +_The Old Mens Dialogue_ +_The Franciscans,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or Rich Beggars_ +_The Abbot and Learned Woman_ +_The Epithalamium of Petrus Ægidius_ +_The Exorcism or Apparition_ +_The Alchymist_ +_The Horse-Cheat_ +_The Beggars' Dialogue_ +_The Fabulous Feast_ +_The Lying-in Woman_ + + + + +Prefatory Note. + +The present English version of Erasmus' _Colloquies_ is a reprint of the +translation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. In +his Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close to +the original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the +English Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure that +Erasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin." + +This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chief +peculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic and +proverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases and +allusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogous +English forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographical +studies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words and +phrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construes +Erasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than the +original. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has a +certain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest even +by those who are familiar with the original. + +In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefully +revised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty has +not been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removing +the coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which he +exaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling is +jealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations. + +Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation has +been closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracies +on Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at the +end of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes its +language, has in many of these notes been given, with the view of +increasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainder +of the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneous +character: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, of +course, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed to +afford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may be +intelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to some +extent to the scholar. + +The Colloquies of Erasmus form a rich quarry of intellectual material, +from which each student will extract that which he regards to be of +peculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life and +manners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all find +themselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many who +at the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of a +book which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on its +appearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the making +of history. + +It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editor +undertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as to +space and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea of +what the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting in +accuracy, however falling short of completeness. + +The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed by +the Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Froben +has been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_, +not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon the +history or contents of the book. + + + + +DEDICATION. + + +_D. ERASMUS_ Rot. + +TO + +_JOHN ERASMIUS FROBEN_, + +_A Boy of Excellent Promise: Greeting._ + + +The Book dedicated to you has surpassed my expectation, my dearest +Erasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappoint +my expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seize +upon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has had +repeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You might +say it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, who +foster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you also +may be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning and +probity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep cause +for shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latin +scholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profit +should not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. And +since there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of the +Colloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your fault +the fact should seem that you could not thank me on the same account? +The little book has increased to the fair size of a volume. You must +also endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in sound +learning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed upon +you: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would be +glorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannot +without the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your course +thus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring the +runner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrived +at an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life for +imbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, that +these Colloquies may be truly called yours. + +The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from all +pollutions, and ever lead you on to better things! Farewell. + +BASIL, _August 1st._, 1524. + + + + +AN ADMONITORY NOTE OF ERASMUS ON THE TRICKS AND IMPOSTURES OF A CERTAIN +DOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS +RIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF. + +_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collected +partly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture of +certain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in bad +Latin,--perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderful +applause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I was +compelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, having +applied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that the +book might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of the +honour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy then +six years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done in +the year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receives +addition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made an +addition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but so +tempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, and +their use in polishing the style, they might also contain that which +would conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I have +referred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read with +wonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, it +could not escape [Greek: tôn sykophantôn dêgmata]. A certain divine of +Louvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in it +four heretical passages. There was also another incident connected with +this work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certain +passages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attack +monks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kind +which, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source of +more plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this so +stupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some street +buffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certain +divine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it to +add his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to have +suppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would rather +look for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in my +name, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction of +one boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. He +represents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and in +piety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling of +certain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know that +some will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such a +hater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and most +accomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he represents +me as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter of +Jerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letter +under his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he was +made to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falsely +translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would have +succeeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, had +they been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style. +Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurable +roguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is more +rascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting in +power to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up to +Erasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowery +preface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life is +still spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest those +who follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul! + +_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunk +from interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself in +a most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment of +divines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whom +he supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detect +the patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does he +everywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, the +Colleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anything +uncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it to +the British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added some +odious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatred +against me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It is +needless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makes +additions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud, +rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rooting +up everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made by +me are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchman +you are turned into a Gaul,'[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I a +Capon then, when I went hence?': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you are +turned into a Briton. What? was I a Saxon, then, when I went hence?' +_Again, when the same speaker had said_, 'Your garb shows that you are +changed from a Batavian into a Gaul,' _he puts_ 'Briton' _for_ 'Gaul'; +_and when the speaker had replied_, 'I had rather that metamorphosis, +than into a Hen,' _alluding to_ 'Cock:' _he changed_ 'Hen' _into_ +'Bohemian.' _Presently, when there is a joke_, 'that he pronounces Latin +in French style,' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British,' _and yet +allows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses, +because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to the +British. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls' +_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle?' _he thus spoils +the joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to war +with the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war. +Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations does +not hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'Is +Paris free from the plague?' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from the +plague?' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraid +to cut up this capon?' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes no +alteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg?' _Forsooth, +although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired to +sit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal mind +a cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in my +text_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books of +one Cicero.' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of the +contents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my text +rallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless puts +faith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess that +he, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope's +indulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speaker +as recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wants +to appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just as +if one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in the +human body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should cure +the wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made to +God is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confession +which is made to the priest is the best.' _Thus did he take care for +imperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sake +of example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. And +these answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my name +in his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing a +palinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in that +work of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For it +does not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, as +burdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publish +anything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of this +kind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who is +slandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divine +when his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theological +science. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his lies +upon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as to +be willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder at +the incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was a +chick who once upon a time fell out of a nest at Berne, entirely [Greek: +hek kakistou korakost kakiston hôon]. This I am astonished at, if the +report is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those who +pride themselves on having at length secured a man who by the +thunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party of +Luther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrote +also against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that they +are slandered by me, who aid their studies in so many night-watches; +while they themselves willingly embrace monsters of this description, +who bring more dishonour to the order of divines and even of monks, +than any foe, however foul-mouthed, can do. He who has audacity for such +an act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And these +things are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even the +Gospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty. + +This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, is +issued in the month of September, 1524._ + + +[Footnote A: Gallus: meaning also a Cock.] + +[Footnote B: _Immunis_ instead of _immune_ agreeing with Londinum.] + + + * * * * * + +_From a letter of Erasmus dated 5th Oct. 1532, we gather some further +particulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name was +Lambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing a +garbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending to +be a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soon +stolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, and +would have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowl +saved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been proved +against him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think, +Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers,--his cowl thrown aside, teaching the +Gospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellow +out. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. And +this sort of plague spreads from day to day."_ + + + + +#ERASMUS ROTERODAMUS# TO THE _DIVINES OF LOUVAIN_, + + +_His dearly beloved brethren in the Lord, greeting._ + +A matter has been brought to my knowledge, not only by rumour, but by +the letters of trustworthy friends, expressly stating in what words, in +what place, a calumny was directed against me in our midst, through the +agency of a well-known person, who is ever true to himself; whose very +character and former doings lead one to assume as ascertained fact what +in another would have been but probable. Accordingly, I thought I ought +to make no concealment of the matter; especially from you, whose part it +was to restrain the unbridled impudence of the fellow, if not for my +sake, at all events for that of your Order. + +He boasts and vociferates that in the book of Colloquies there are four +passages more than heretical: concerning the _Eating of meats_ and +_Fasting_, concerning _Indulgences_, and concerning _Vows_, Although +such be his bold and impudent assertion, whoever reads the book in its +entirety will find the facts to be otherwise. If, however, leisure be +wanting for the reading of trifles of this description, I will briefly +lay the matter open. But before I approach it, I think well to make +three prefatory remarks. + +First, in this matter contempt of the Emperor's edict[C] cannot be laid +to my charge. For I understand it was published May 6th, 1522, whereas +this book was printed long before: and that at Basle, where no Imperial +edict had up to the time been made known, whether publicly or privately. + +[Footnote C: Edict of the Emperor Charles V.: 1523.] + +Secondly, although in that book I do not teach dogmas of Faith, but +formulae for speaking Latin; yet there are matters intermixed by the +way, which conduce to good manners. Now if, when a theme has been +previously written down in German or French, a master should teach his +boys to render the sense in Latin thus: _Utinam nihil edant praeter +allia, qui nobis hos dies pisculentos invexerunt_. ("Would they might +eat naught but garlic, who imposed these fish-days upon us.") Or this: +_Utinam inedia pereant, qui liberos homines adigunt ac jejunandi +necessitatem_. ("Would they might starve to death, who force the +necessity of fasting on free men.") Or this: _Digni sunt ut fumo pereant +qui nobis Dispensationum ad Indulgentiarum fumos tam care vendunt_. +("They deserve to be stifled to death who sell us the smokes (pretences) +of dispensations and indulgences at so dear a rate.") Or this: _Utinam +vere castrentur, qui nolentes arcent à matrimonio_. ("Would they might +indeed be made eunuchs of, who keep people from marrying, against their +will")--I ask, whether he should be forced to defend himself, for having +taught how to turn a sentence, though of bad meaning, into good Latin +words? I think there is no one so unjust, as to deem this just. + +Thirdly, I had in the first instance to take care what sort of person it +should be to whom I ascribe the speech in the dialogue. For I do not +there represent a divine preaching, but good fellows having a gossip +together. Now if any one is so unfair as to refuse to concede me the +quality of the person represented, he ought, by the same reasoning, to +lay it to my charge, that there one Augustine (I think) disparages the +Stoics' principle of the _honestum_, and prefers the sect of the +Epicureans, who placed the highest good in pleasure. He may also bring +it against me, that in that passage a soldier, amongst many things which +he speaks about in true soldier-fashion, says that he will look for a +priest to confess to, who shall have as little of good as possible about +him. The same objector would, I imagine, bring it up against me, were I +to ascribe to Arius in a dialogue a discourse at variance with the +Church. If such charges against me would be absurd, why in other matters +should not regard be had to the quality of the person speaking? Unless +perchance, were I to represent a Turk speaking, they should decide to +lay at my door whatever he might say. + +With this preface, I will make a few general remarks on the passages +criticised by the person to whom I refer. In the first passage, a boy of +sixteen years says that he confesses only sins that are unquestionably +capital, or gravely suspected; while the Lutherans teach, as I +understand, that it is not necessary to confess all capital offences. +Thus the very facts show, that this boy's speech is in great +disagreement with the dogma which you condemn. Presently, the same boy +being asked, whether it be sufficient to confess to Christ himself, +answers that it will satisfy his mind, if the fathers of the Church were +of the same opinion. From this my critic argues, not with dialectic art, +but with rascally cunning, that I suggest that this _Confession_ which +we now practise was not instituted by Christ, but by the leaders of the +Church. Such an inference might appear sound, were not Christ one of the +Primates of the Church, since according to Peter's saying He is Chief +Shepherd, and according to the word of the Gospel, Good Shepherd. +Therefore he who speaks of princes of the Church, does not exclude +Christ, but includes Him along with the Apostles, and the successors of +the Apostles, in the same manner as he who names the principal members +of the body does not exclude the head. But if any one shall deem this +reply to savour of artifice: well now, let us grant that the boy was +thinking of pure men, heads of the Church: is it then not enough for the +boy that he follows in the matter of confession their authority, even +although he is not assured whether the Popes could ordain this on their +own authority, or handed it down to us from the ordinance of Christ? For +he has a mind to obey, in whatever way they have handed it down. I am +not even myself fully convinced as yet, that the Church defined the +present practice of Confession to be of Christ's ordinance. For there +are very many arguments, to me in fact insoluble, which persuade to the +contrary. Nevertheless, I entirely submit this feeling of my own to the +judgment of the Church. Gladly will I follow it, so soon as on my watch, +for certainty I shall have heard its clear voice. Nay, had Leo's Bull +given the fullest expression of this doctrine, and any one should either +be ignorant of it, or should have forgotten it, it would meanwhile +suffice (I imagine) to obey in this matter the authority of the Church, +with a disposition of obedience, should the point be established. Nor in +truth can it be rightly inferred, _This Confession is of human +ordinance, therefore Christ is not its Author_. The Apostles laid down +the discipline of the Church, without doubt from Christ's ordinances: +they ordained Baptism, they ordained Bishops, &c., but by the authority +of Christ. And yet it cannot be denied, that many particulars of this +Confession depend on the appointment of the Pontiffs, viz., that we +confess once a year, at Easter, to this or that priest; that any priest +absolves us from any trespasses whatever. Hence I judge it to be clear +how manifest is the calumny in what relates to _Confession_. + +Further, no mention is there made of _fasting_, to which the Gospel and +the Apostolic epistles exhort us, but _concerning the choice of foods_, +which Christ openly sets at naught in the Gospel, and the Pauline +epistles not seldom condemn; especially that which is Jewish and +superstitious. Some one will say, this is to accuse the Roman Pontiff +who teaches that which the Apostle condemns. What the Gospel teaches, +is perfectly plain. The Pontiff himself must declare with what intention +he commands what the Gospel does not require. Yet no one there +says--what I know not whether Luther teaches--that the constitutions of +the Pontiffs do not render us liable to guilt, unless there has been +contempt besides. In fact, he who speaks in that passage grants that the +Pope may appoint an observance; he simply enquires, whether this were +the intention of the Pope, to bind all equally to abstinence from meats, +so that one who should partake would be liable to hell-fire, even +although no perverse contempt should be committed. And he who says this +in the Colloquies, adds that he hates fishes not otherwise than he does +a serpent. Now, there are some so affected that fish is poison to them, +just as there are found those who in like manner shrink from wine. If +one who is thus affected with regard to fishes, should be forbidden to +feed on flesh and milk-food, will he not be hardly treated? Is it +possible that any man can desire him to be exposed to the pains of hell, +if for the necessity of his body he should live on flesh? If any +constitution of Popes and Bishops involves liability to the punishment +of hell, the condition of Christians is hard indeed. If some impose the +liability, others not; no one will better declare his intention than the +Pope himself. And it would conduce to the peace of consciences to have +it declared. What if some Pope should decree that priests should go +girt; would it be probable that he declared this with the intention that +if one because of renal suffering should lay aside the girdle, he should +be liable to hell? I think not. St. Gregory laid down, That if any one +had had intercourse with his wife by night, he should abstain the next +day from entering church: in this case, supposing that a man, concealing +the fact of intercourse having taken place, should have gone to church +for no other reason than that he might hear the preaching of the Gospel, +would he be liable to hell? I do not think the holiest man could be so +harsh. If a man with a sick wife should live on meat, because otherwise +she could not be provoked to eat, and her health required food, surely +the Pope would not on that account determine him to be liable to hell! +This matter is simply made a subject of enquiry in the passage referred +to, and no positive statement is made. And certainly before the Imperial +Edict, men were at liberty to enquire concerning these matters. + +In point of fact, neither in that place nor elsewhere do I absolutely +condemn the _Indulgences_ of the Popes, although hitherto more than +sufficient indulgence has been shown them. It is simply that a speaker +ridicules his comrade, who, although in other respects the most +frivolous of triflers (for so he is depicted), yet believed that by the +protection of a Bull he would get safely to heaven. So far from thinking +this to be heretical, I should imagine there was no holier duty than to +warn the people not to put their trust in Bulls, unless they study to +change their life and correct their evil desires. + +But _Vows_ are ridiculed in that passage. Yes, they are ridiculed, and +those (of whom there is a vast multitude) are admonished, who, leaving +wife and children at home, under a vow made in their cups, run off along +with a few pot-companions to Rome, Compostella, or Jerusalem. But, as +manners now are, I think it a holier work to dissuade men altogether +from such Vows than to urge to the making of them. + +These, forsooth, are the execrable heresies which yonder Lynceus +descries in the Puerile Colloquy. I wonder why he does not also give my +Catunculus and the Publian mimes[D] a dusting. Who does not perceive +that these attacks proceed from some private grudge? Yet in nothing have +I done him an injury, except that I have favoured good literature, which +he hates more than sin; and knows not why. Meantime he boasts that he +too has a weapon, by which he may take his revenge. If a man at a feast +calls him Choroebus or a drunkard, he in his turn will in the pulpit cry +heretic, or forger, or schismatic upon him. I believe, if the cook were +to set burnt meat on the dinner-table, he would next day bawl out in the +course of his sermon that she was suspected of heresy. Nor is he +ashamed, nor does he retreat, though so often caught, by the very facts, +in manifest falsehood. + +[Footnote D: Publius Syrus (B.C. 45), a writer of _mimes_, or familiar +prose dramas. A collection of apophthegms from his works is said to have +been used as a school-book in Jerome's days.] + +In the first place what a foolish, what a mad blather he made against my +revised New Testament! Next, what could be more like madness than that +remark which he threw out against J. Faber and myself, when the very +facts bespoke that he did not understand what agreement there was +between me and Faber, or what was the subject of controversy! What more +shameless than his fixing a charge of forgery and heresy in the course +of a public address on me, because I rendered according to the Greek: +Omnes quidem non resurgemus, sed omnes immutabimur ("We shall not all +rise again, but we shall all be changed.") What more like a raging +madman, then his warning the people at Mechlin, in a public address, to +beware of the heresy of Luther and Erasmus! Why should I now recall the +ravings that he belches out rather than utters in the midst of his high +feasting as often as his zeal for the house of the Lord is inflamed from +his cups? He lately said in Holland, that I was set down for a forger +among the divines of Louvain. (One who was present and heard it wrote to +me.) When asked, Why? Because, says he, he so often corrects the New +Testament! What a dolt of a tongue! Jerome so often corrected the +Psalter: is he therefore a forger? In short if he is a forger, who +either rashly or from ignorance translates anything otherwise than it +should be, he was a forger, whose translation we use at the present day +in the Church. But what good does this sort of behavior do him? All men +laugh at him as a Morychus,[E] shun him as a crackbrain,--get out of +his way as a peevish fellow you can do nothing with. Nor can they think +ill of him, of whom he says such spiteful things. And though he +displeases all, himself alone he cannot displease. + +[Footnote E: Lit.: One stained or smeared: an epithet of Bacchus +(Dionysos) in Sicily, "smeared with wine-lees." ([Greek: moryssô].)] + +This doubtless he holds to be an Imperial edict, that he with raging +insolence of tongue should rave at whomsoever he pleases. Thus does this +wise and weighty man support the interests of the orthodox faith. This +is not a zeal of God, to hurt the harmless; but it is a rage of the +devil. The Jewish zeal of Phinehas was once extolled, but not that it +might pass as a pattern with Christians. And yet Phinehas openly slew +impious persons. To your colleague whatever he hates is Lutheran and +heretical. In the same way, I suppose, he will call small-beer, flat +wine, and tasteless broth, Lutheran. And the Greek tongue, which is his +_unique_ aversion,--I suppose for this reason, that the Apostles +dignified it with so great an honour as to write in no other,--will be +called Lutheran. Poetic art, for he hates this too, being fonder of the +_potatic_, will be Lutheran. + +He complains that his authority is lessened by our means, and that he is +made a laughing-stock in my writings. The fact is, he offers himself as +an object of ridicule to all men of education and sense; and this +without end. I _repel slander_. But if learned and good men think ill of +_a man_ who directs a slander at one who has not deserved it, which is +it fair to consider the accountable person, he who rightly repels what +he ought not to acknowledge, or he who injuriously sets it afoot? If a +man were to be laughed at for saying that asses in Brabant have wings, +would he not himself make the laughing-matter? He cries out that _the +whole of Luther is in my books_, that on all sides they swarm with +heretical errors. But when those who read my writings find nothing of +the kind, even if ignorant of dialectics, they readily infer the true +conclusion. He has authority from the Emperor. Let him therefore conduct +himself in the spirit of the Emperor, who would rather that wrong-doers +should be cured than punished, and certainly does not desire that the +harmless should be injured. He has entrusted this function to a man he +did not know; when he shall have ascertained the fellow's character, he +will doubtless recall what he has entrusted. It is not the disposition +of the mildest of Emperors, nor of the most upright of Popes, that those +who spend their night-watches in studying how to adorn and assist the +State, should be exposed to the spite of such men; even although there +were some human infirmity in the case. So far are they from desiring to +estrange good and honest men, and force them to take a different side. + +These matters are more your concern than mine. For this man's manners +invite much discredit upon your order, while the mass of the people +judge of you all by this one sample. Unjustly so, I admit; but so the +world wags. And the harshness of your brother estranges no small number +from the study of divinity. I know that the man is utterly disliked by +you, with the exception of two or three boon companions, and one old +hand, who abuses the man's folly in the interests of his own lusts. But +all would definitely understand that you disapprove of him, if, since he +cannot be restrained, you were to expel him from your table. I well know +such a step will be very difficult to take. For men of his stamp are +reluctantly torn away from the smell of stated, sumptuous, and free +repasts. Nevertheless this concerns the honour of your Order, towards +which I have good reason to be well-disposed. Farewell. + +Supposed to have been written in 1531. + + + + +ALL THE + +#Familiar Colloquies# + +OF + +_#Desiderius Erasmus#_, + +OF + +#ROTERDAM,# + +Concerning Men, Manners, and Things, translated into _English_. + + * * * * * + +By N. BAILEY. + + * * * * * + + Unlike in Method, with conceal'd Design, + Did crafty _Horace_ his low Numbers join; + And, with a sly insinuating Grace, + Laugh'd at his Friend, and look'd him in the Face: + Would raise a Blush, when secret Vice he found; + And tickled, while he gently prob'd the Wound: + With seeming Innocence the Crowd beguil'd; + But made the desperate Passes, when he smil'd. + +_Persius Sat. I. Dryden_. + + * * * * * + +_LONDON_ + +1725. + + + + +#THE PREFACE.# + +_There are two Things I would take some Notice of: The first relates to +my Author, and the second to myself, or the Reasons why I have attempted +this Translation of him. And in speaking of the first, I presume I shall +save myself much of what might be said as to the second. Tho'_ Erasmus +_is so well known, especially to those versed in the_ Latin _Tongue, +that there seems to be but little Occasion to say any Thing in his +Commendation; yet since I have taken upon me to make him an_ +English-man, _give me Leave to say, that in my Opinion, he as well +deserves this Naturalization, as any modern Foreigner whose Works are +in_ Latin, _as well for the Usefulness of the Matter of his Colloquies, +as the Pleasantness of Style, and Elegancy of the_ Latin. + +_They are under an egregious Mistake, who think there is nothing to be +found in them, but Things that savour of Puerility, written indeed +ingeniously, and in elegant_ Latin. _For this Book contains, besides +those, Things of a far greater Concern; and indeed, there is scarce any +Thing wanting in them, fit to be taught to a_ Christian _Youth design'd +for liberal Studies. + +The Principles of Faith are not only plainly and clearly laid down, but +establish'd upon their own firm and genuine Basis. The Rules of Piety, +Justice, Charity, Purity, Meekness, Brotherly Concord, the Subjection +due to Superiors, are so treated of, that, in a Word, scarce any Thing +is omitted that belongs to a Man, a Subject, or a Christian. + +Neither are those Things omitted, which respect a Medium of Life, by +which every one may chuse out safely what Ratio of Life he has most Mind +to, and by which he may be taught, not only Civility and Courtesy, but +also may know how to behave himself in the World, so as to gain himself +the good Will of many, and, a good Name among all, and may be able to +discern the Follies and Childishnesses of Fools, and the Frauds and +Villanies of Knaves, so as to guard against 'em all. + +And neither are there wanting Sketches, and that ample ones too, of +Poetical Story, or Pagan Theology, universal History, sacred and +profane, Poetry, Criticism, Logick, Natural and Moral Philosophy, +Oeconomics and Politics; to which are added, a good Number of Proverbs +and Apothegms used by the most celebrated of the Antients. + +But there is one Thing in an especial Manner, that should recommend this +Book to all_ Protestants _in general, and cause them to recommend it to +be read by their Children, that there is no Book fitter for them to +read, which does in so delightful and instructing a Manner utterly +overthrow almost all the Popish Opinions and Superstitions, and erect in +their Stead, a Superstructure of Opinions that are purely Protestant. + +And notwithstanding whatsoever_ Erasmus _hath said in his Apology +concerning the Utility of his Colloquies, that he could say with +Modesty, according to his wonted Dexterity, to temper, and alleviate the +Bitterness of the Wormwood that he gave the_ Papists _to drink in the +Colloquies, it is past a Question, that he lays down a great many Things +agreeable to the_ Protestant _Hypothesis, so that (if you except +Transubstantiation) he reprehends, explodes and derides almost all the_ +Popish _Opinions, Superstitions and Customs. + +Therefore if this golden Book be read with Attention, I doubt not but it +will plainly appear, that the Scripture was in all Things preferr'd by +the Author before them all; and that he accounted that alone truly +infallible, and of irrefragable Authority, and did not account the +Councils, Popes or Bishops so. + +And as to the praying to Saints, it was his Opinion, the christian World +would be well enough without it, and that he abhor'd that common Custom +of asking unworthy Things of them, and flying to them for Refuge more +than to the Father and Christ. + +That he look'd upon all external Things of very small Account, of +whatsoever Species they were: Either the Choice of Meats, Processions, +Stations, and innumerable other Ordinances and Ceremonies, and that they +were in themselves unprofitable, although he, for the sake of Peace and +Order, did conform himself to all harmless Things that publick Authority +had appointed. Not judging those Persons, who out of a Scrupulousness +of Conscience thought otherwise, but wishing that those in Authority +would use their Power with more Mildness. + +And that he esteem'd, as Trifles and Frauds, the Community of good +Works, of all Men whatsoever, or in any Society whatsoever; that he +abhor'd the Sale of Pardons for Sins, and derided the Treasury of +Indulgences, from whence it is a plain Inference, that he believ'd +nothing of Purgatory. + +And that he more than doubted, whether auricular Confession was +instituted by Christ or the Apostles; and he plainly condemns +Absolution, and laugh'd at the giving it in an unknown Tongue. From +whence we may fairly infer, that he was against having the Liturgy +(which ought to be read to Edification) in an unknown Tongue. But he +either thought it not safe, or not convenient, or at least not +absolutely necessary to speak his Mind plainly as to that Matter. + +Likewise, he particularly laugh'd at all the Species of popular and +monastical Piety; such as Prayers repeated over and over, without the +Mind, but recited by a certain Number with their_ Rosaries, _and_ +Ave-Maria's, _by which, God being neglected, they expected to obtain all +Things, though none were particularly nam'd: Their_ tricenary, _and_ +anniversary Masses, _nay, and all those for the Dead: The dying and +being buried in a_ Franciscan's _and_ Dominican's _Garment or Cowl, and +all the Trumpery belonging to it; and did, in a manner condemn all Sorts +of Monastical Life and Order, as practis'd among the Papists. + +He shews it likewise to have been his Opinion, as to the Reliques of_ +Christ, _and he and she Saints, that he judg'd the Worship of them a +vain and foolish Thing, and believ'd no Virtue to be in any of them, +nay, that the most, if not all of them, were false and counterfeit. + +And to crown the Whole, he did not spare that beloved Principle and +Custom of the Papists, so zealously practis'd by them upon Protestants, +viz. the Persecution and Burning of Hereticks. + +And now, of how much Use and Advantage such Things, and from such a +Person as_ Erasmus, _may be, and how much they may conduce to the +extirpating those Seeds of Popery, that may have been unhappily sown, or +may be subtilly instill'd into the Minds of uncautious Persons, under +the specious Shew of Sanctity, will, I presume, easily appear. Tho' the +Things before-mention'd may be Reason sufficient for the turning these +Colloquies of_ Erasmus _into_ English, _that so useful a Treatise may +not be a Book seal'd, either to Persons not at all, or not enough +acquainted with the_ Latin _tongue, as to read them with Edification; +yet I did it from another Motive,_ i.e. _the Benefit of such as having +been initiated, desire a more familiar Acquaintance with the_ Latin +_Tongue (as to the Speaking Part especially, to which_ Erasmus's +_Colloquies are excellently adapted) that by comparing this Version with +the Original, they may be thereby assisted, to more perfectly +understand, and familiarize themselves with those Beauties of the_ Latin +_Language, in which_ Erasmus _in these Colloquies abounds. + +And for that End, I have labour'd to give such a Translation of them, as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a Paraphrase: But keeping as close to +the Original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the_ +English _Idiom, and so depriving the_ English _Reader of that Pleasure, +that_ Erasmus _so plentifully entertains his Reader with in_ Latin. + +_It is true, Sir_ Roger l'Estrange _and Mr._ Tho. Brown, _have formerly +done some select Colloquies, and Mr._ H.M. _many years since has +translated the whole; but the former being rather Paraphrases than +Translations, are not so capable of affording the Assistance +before-mention'd; and as to the latter, besides that his Version is +grown very scarce, the Style is not only antient, but too flat for so +pleasant and facetious an Author as_ Erasmus _is_. + +_I do not pretend to have come up in my_ English, _to that Life and +Beauty of_ Erasmus _in Latin, which as it is often inimitable in the_ +English _Language, so it is also a Task fit to be undertaken by none but +an_ English Erasmus _himself_, i.e. _one that had the same Felicity of +Expression that he had; but I hope it will appear that I have kept my +Author still in my Eye, tho' I have followed him_ passibus haud æquis, +_and could seldom come up to him. I shall not detain you any longer; but +subscribe my self, yours to serve you_, + +_Jan. 25th_, N. BAILEY. 1724-5. + + + + +_The_ LIFE _of_ ERASMUS. + +_DESIDERIUS Erasmus_, surnamed _Roterodamus_, was born at _Roterdam_, a +Town of _Holland_, on the Vigil of _Simon and Jude_, or _October_ the +20th or 28th, 1465, according to his Epitaph at _Basil_; or according to +the Account of his life, _Erasmo Auctore, circa annum, &c._ about the +Year 1467, which agrees with the Inscription of his Statue at +_Roterdam_, which being the Place of his Nativity, may be suppos'd to be +the most authentick. His Mother's Name was _Margaret_, the Daughter of +one _Peter_, a Physician of _Sevenbergen_. His Father's Name was +_Gerard_, who carried on a private Correspondence with her, upon Promise +of Marriage; and as it should seem from the Life which has _Erasmus's_ +Name before it, was actually contracted to her, which seems plainly to +be insinuated by these Words; _Sunt qui intercessisse verba ferunt_: +However, it is not to be denied that _Erasmus_ was born out of Wedlock, +and on that Account, Father _Theophilus Ragnaud_, has this pleasant +Passage concerning him: _If one may be allow'd to droll upon a Man, that +droll'd upon all the World_, Erasmus, _tho' he was not the Son of a +King, yet he was the Son of a crown'd Head_, meaning a Priest. But in +this he appears to have been mistaken, in that his Father was not in +Orders when he begat him. His Father _Gerard_ was the Son of one +_Elias_, by his Mother _Catherine_, who both liv'd to a very advanc'd +Age; _Catherine_ living to the Age of 95. _Gerard_ had nine Brethren by +the same Father and Mother, without one Sister coming between them; he +himself was the youngest of the ten, and liv'd to see two of his +Brothers at _Dort_ in _Holland_, near 90 Years of Age each. All his +Brothers were married but himself; and according to the Superstition of +those Times, the old People had a mind to consecrate him to God, being a +tenth Child, and his Brothers lik'd the Motion well enough, because by +that Means they thought they should have a sure Friend, where they might +eat and drink, and be merry upon Occasion. They being all very pressing +upon him to turn Ecclesiastick, (which was a Course of Life that he had +no Inclination to,) _Gerard_ finding himself beset on all Sides, and by +their universal Consent excluded from Matrimony, resolving not to be +prevail'd upon by any Importunities, as desperate Persons do, fled from +them, and left a Letter for his Parents and Brothers upon the Road, +acquainting them with the Reason of his Elopement, bidding them an +eternal Farewell, telling them he would never see them more. He +prosecuted his Journey to _Rome_, leaving _Margaret_, his Spouse that +was to be, big with Child of _Erasmus. Gerard_ being arriv'd at _Rome_, +betook himself to get his Living by his Pen, (by transcribing Books) +being an excellent Penman; and there being at that Time a great deal of +that Sort of Business to do (for as the Life that is said to be _Erasmo +Auctore_ has it, _tum nondum ars typographorum erat_, i.e. _The Art of +Printing was not then found out_; which was a Mistake, for it had been +found out twenty-four Years before, in the Year 1442. But perhaps the +Meaning may be, tho' it was found out, it was not then commonly used) he +got Money plentifully, and for some Time, as young Fellows us'd to do, +liv'd at large; but afterwards apply'd himself in good Earnest to his +Studies, made a considerable Progress in the _Latin_ and _Greek_ +Tongues, which was very much facilitated by his Employment of +transcribing Authors, which could not but strongly impress them on his +Memory; and he had also another great Advantage, in that a great many +learned Men then flourish'd at _Rome_ and he heard particularly one +_Guarinus_. But to return to _Erasmus_, his Mother _Margaret_ being +delivered of him, he was after his Father called _Gerard_, which in the +_German_ Tongue, signifies _Amiable_; and as it was the Custom among +learned Men in those Times, (who affected to give their Names either in +_Latin_ or _Greek_,) it was turn'd into _Desiderius_ (_Didier_) in +_Latin_, and into _Erasmus_ [Greek: Herasmios] in _Greek_, which has the +same Signification. He was at first brought up by his Grandmother, till +_Gerard's_ Parents coming to the Knowledge that he was at _Rome_, wrote +to him, sending him Word, that the young Gentlewoman whom he courted for +a Wife was dead; which he giving Credit to, in a melancholy Fit, took +Orders, being made a Presbyter, and apply'd his Mind seriously to the +Study of Religion. But upon his Return into his own Country, he found +that they had impos'd upon him. Having taken Orders, it was too late to +think of Marriage; he therefore quitted all further Pretensions to her, +nor would she after this, be induced to marry. _Gerard_ took Care to +have his Son _Erasmus_ liberally educated, and put him to School when he +was scarce four Years old. (They have in _Holland_, an ill-grounded +Tradition; that _Erasmus_, when he was young, was a dull Boy, and slow +at Learning; but Monsieur _Bayle_ has sufficiently refuted that Error, +tho' were it true, it were no more Dishonour to him, than it was to +_Thomas Aquinas, Suarez_, and others.) He was a Chorister at _Utrecht_, +till he was nine Years old, and afterwards was sent to _Daventer_, his +Mother also going thither to take Care of him. That School was but +barbarous, the most that was minded, was _Matins_, Even-Song, &c. till +_Alexander Hegius_ of _Westphalia_, and _Zinthius_, began to introduce +something of better Literature. (This _Alexander Hegius_, was an +intimate Friend to the learned _Rodolphus Agricola_, who was the first +that brought the _Greek_ Tongue over the Mountains of _Germany_, and was +newly returned out of _Italy_, having learned the _Greek_ Tongue of +him.) _Erasmus_ took his first Taste of solid Learning from some of his +Playfellows, who being older than himself, were under the Instruction of +_Zinthius_: And afterwards he sometimes heard _Hegius_; but that was +only upon holy Days, on which he read publickly, and so rose to be in +the third Class, and made a very good Proficiency: He is said to have +had so happy a Memory, as to be able to repeat all _Terence_ and +_Horace_ by Heart. The Plague at that Time raging violently at +_Daventer_, carry'd off his Mother, when _Erasmus_ was about thirteen +Years of Age; which Contagion increasing more and more every Day, having +swept away the whole Family where he boarded, he returned Home. His +Father _Gerard_ hearing of the Death of his Wife, was so concern'd at +it, that he grew melancholy upon it, fell sick, and died soon after, +neither of them being much above forty Years of Age. He assign'd to his +Son _Erasmus_ three Guardians, whom he esteem'd as trusty Friends, the +Principal of whom was _Peter Winkel_, the Schoolmaster of _Goude_. The +Substance that he left for his Education, had been sufficient for that +Purpose, if his Guardians had discharg'd their Trust faithfully. By them +he was remov'd to _Boisleduc_, tho' he was at that Time fit to have gone +to the University. But the Trustees were against sending him to the +University, because they had design'd him for a Monastick Life. Here he +liv'd (or, as he himself says, rather lost three Years) in a +_Franciscan_ Convent, where one _Rombold_ taught Humanity, who was +exceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Youth, and began to +sollicit him to take the Habit upon him, and become one of their Order. +_Erasmus_ excused himself, alledging the Rawness and Unexperiencedness +of his Age. The Plague spreading in these Parts, and after he had +struggled a whole Year with an Ague, he went Home to his Guardians, +having by this Time furnished himself with an indifferent good Style, by +daily reading the best Authors. One of his Guardians was carried off by +the Plague; the other two not having manag'd his Fortune with the +greatest Care, began to contrive how they might fix him in some +Monastery. _Erasmus_ still languishing under this Indisposition, tho' he +had no Aversion to the Severities of a pious Life, yet he had an +Aversion for a Monastery, and therefore desired Time to consider of the +Matter. In the mean Time his Guardians employ'd Persons to sollicit him, +by fair Speeches, and the Menaces of what he must expect, if he did not +comply, to bring him over. In this Interim they found out a Place for +him in _Sion_, a College of Canons Regulars near _Delft_, which was the +principal House belonging to that Chapter. When the Day came that +_Erasmus_ was to give his final Answer, he fairly told them, he neither +knew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet, what himself +was, and that he thought it more advisable for him to pass a few Years +more at School, till he came to know himself better. _Peter Winkel_ +perceiving that he was unmoveable in this Resolution, fell into a Rage, +telling him, he had taken a great deal of Pains to a fine Purpose +indeed, who had by earnest Sollicitations, provided a good Preferment +for an obstinate Boy, that did not understand his own Interest: And +having given him some hard Words, told him, that from that Time he threw +up his Guardianship, and now he might look to himself. _Erasmus_ +presently reply'd, that he took him at his first Word; that he was now +of that Age, that he thought himself capable of taking Care of himself. +When his Guardian saw that threatening would not do any Thing with him, +he set his Brother Guardian, who was his Tutor, to see what he could do +with him: Thus was _Erasmus_ surrounded by them and their Agents on all +Hands. He had also a Companion that was treacherous to him, and his old +Companion his Ague stuck close to him; but all these would not make a +monastick Life go down with him; till at last, by meer Accident, he +went to pay a Visit at a Monastery of the same Order at _Emaus_ or +_Steyn_ near _Goude_, where he found one _Cornelius_, who had been his +Chamber-fellow at _Daventer_. He had not yet taken the Habit, but had +travelled to _Italy_, and came back without making any great +Improvements in Learning. This _Cornelius_, with all the Eloquence he +was Master of, was continually setting out the Advantages of a religious +Life, the Conveniency of noble Libraries, Retirement from the Hurry of +the World, and heavenly Company, and the like. Some intic'd him on one +Hand, others urg'd him on the other, his Ague stuck close to him, so +that at last he was induc'd to pitch upon this Convent. And after his +Admission he was fed up with great Promises to engage him to take upon +him the holy Cloth. Altho' he was but young, he soon perceived how +vastly short all Things there fell of answering his Expectations; +however, he set the whole Brotherhood to applying their Minds to Study. +Before he professed himself he would have quitted the Monastery; but his +own Modesty, the ill Usage he was treated with, and the Necessities of +his Circumstances, overcame him, so that he did profess himself. Not +long after this, by the means of _Gulielmus Hermannus_ of _Buda_, his +intimate Associate, he had the Honour to be known to _Henry a Bergis_ +Bishop of _Cambray_, who was then in Hopes of obtaining a Cardinal's +Hat, which he had obtained, had not Money been wanting: In order to +sollicit this Affair for him, he had Occasion for one that was Master of +the _Latin_ Tongue; therefore being recommended by the Bishop of +_Utrecht_, he was sent for by him; he had also the Recommendation of the +_Prior_, and General, and was entertained in the Bishop's Family, but +still wore the Habit of his Order: But the Bishop, disappointed in his +Hope of wearing the Cardinal's Hat, _Erasmus_ finding his Patron fickle +and wavering in his Affections, prevail'd with him to send him to +_Paris_, to prosecute his Studies there. He did so, and promised him a +yearly Allowance, but it was never paid him, according to the Custom of +great Men. He was admitted of _Montague_ College there, but by Reason of +ill Diet and a damp Chamber, he contracted an Indisposition of Body, +upon which he return'd to the Bishop, who entertain'd him again +courteously and honourably: Having recover'd his Health, he return'd +into _Holland_, with a Design to settle there; but being again invited, +he went back to _Paris_. But having no Patron to support him, he rather +made a Shift to live (to use his own Expression) than to study there; +and undertook the Tuition of an _English_ Gentleman's two Sons. And the +Plague returning there periodically for many Years, he was obliged every +Year to return into his own Country. At length it raging all the Year +long, he retir'd to _Louvain_. + +After this he visited _England_, going along with a young Gentleman, to +whom he was Tutor, who, as he says himself, was rather his Friend than +his Patron. In _England_ he was received with universal Respect; and, as +he tells us himself in his Life, he won the Affections of all good Men +in our Island. During his Residence here, he was intimately acquainted +with _Sir Thomas More_, _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_, +_John Colet_, Dean of St. _Pauls_, the Founder of St. _Paul's School_, a +Man remarkable for the Regularity of his Life, great Learning and +Magnificence; with _Hugh Latimer_ Bishop of _Winchester_, _Linacre_, +_Grocinus_, and many other honourable and learned Persons, and passed +some Years at _Cambridge_, and is said to have taught there; but whether +this was after his first or second Time of visiting _England_, I do not +determine: However, not meeting with the Preferment he expected, he went +away hence to make a Journey to _Italy_, in the Company of the Sons of +_Baptista Boetius_, a _Genoese_, Royal Professor of Physick in +_England_; which Country, at that Time, could boast of a Set of learned +Men, not much inferior to the _Augustan_ Age: But as he was going to +_France_, it was his ill Fortune, at _Dover_, to be stripp'd of all he +had; this he seems to hint at in his _Colloquy_, intitled, the +_Religious Pilgrimage_: But yet he was so far from revenging the Injury, +by reflecting upon the Nation, that he immediately published a Book in +Praise of the King and Country; which Piece of Generosity gained him no +small Respect in _England_. And it appears by several of his Epistles, +that he honoured _England_ next to the Place of his Nativity. + +It appears by _Epist. 10. Lib. 16_. that when he was in _England_ +Learning flourished very much here, in that he writes, _Apud Anglos +triumphant bonæ Literæ recta Studia_; and in _Epist. 12. Lib. 16_. he +makes no Scruple to equal it to _Italy_ itself; and _Epist. 26. Lib. 6._ +commends the _English_ Nobility for their great Application to all +useful Learning, and entertaining themselves at Table with learned +Discourses, when the Table-Talk of Churchmen was nothing but Ribaldry +and Profaneness. In _Epist_. 10. _Lib_. 5, which he addresses to +_Andrelinus_, he invites him to come into _England_, recommending it as +worth his While, were it upon no other Account, than to see the charming +Beauties with which this Island abounded; and in a very pleasant Manner +describes to him the Complaisance and innocent Freedom of the _English_ +Ladies, telling him, that when he came into a Gentleman's House he was +allowed to salute the Ladies, and also to do the same at taking Leave: +And tho' he seems to talk very feelingly on the Subject, yet makes no +Reflections upon the Virtue of _English_ Women. But to return to him; as +to his Voyage to _Italy_, he prosecuted his Journey to _Turin_, and took +the Degree of Doctor of Divinity in that University; he dwelt a whole +year in _Bolognia_, and there obtain'd a Dispensation from Pope _Julian_ +to put off his Canon's Habit, but upon Condition not to put off the +Habit of Priest; and after that went to _Venice_, where was the +Printing-House of the famous _Manutius Aldus_, and there he published +his Book of _Adagies_, and staying some Time there, wrote several +Treatises, and had the Conversation of many eminent and learned Men. +From thence he went to _Padua_, where at that Time _Alexander_ the Son +of _James_ King of _Scotland_, and Bishop of St. _Andrews_ in +_Scotland_, studied, who chose _Erasmus_ for his Tutor in Rhetorick, and +went to _Seana_, and thence to _Rome_, where his great Merits had made +his Presence expected long before. At _Rome_ he gained the Friendship +and Esteem of the most considerable Persons in the City, was offered the +Dignity of a Penitentiary, if he would have remained there: But he +returned back to the Archbishop, and not long after went with him again +to _Italy_, and travelling farther into the Country, went to _Cuma_, and +visited the Cave of _Sybilla_. After the Death of the Archbishop he +began to think of returning to his own Country, and coming over the +_Rhetian Alps_, went to _Argentorat_, and thence by the Way of the +_Rhine_ into _Holland_, having in his Way visited his Friends at +_Antwerp_ and _Louvain_; but _Henry_ VIII. coming to the Crown of +England, his Friends here, with many Invitations and great Promises, +prevailed upon him to come over to _England_ again, where it was his +Purpose to have settled for the remaining Part of his Life, had he found +Things according to the Expectation they had given him: But how it came +about is uncertain, whether _Erasmus_ was wanting in making his Court +aright to Cardinal _Wolsey_, who at that Time manag'd all Things at his +Pleasure; or, whether it were that the Cardinal look'd with a jealous +Eye upon him, because of his intimate Friendship with _William Warham_, +Archbishop of _Canterbury_, who had taken him into his Favour, between +whom and _Wolsey_ there was continual Clashing, (the Cardinal after he +had been made the Pope's Legate, pretending a Power in the +Archbishoprick of _Canterbury_.) On this Disappointment he left +_England_, and went to _Flanders_; Archbishop _Warham_ had indeed shewed +his Esteem for him, in giving him the Living of _Aldington_. In short, +_Erasmus_ takes Notice of the Friendship between himself and _Warham_ in +the _Colloquy_ called, _The Religious Pilgrimage_. + +As to his Familiarity with Sir _Thomas More_, there are several Stories +related, and especially one concerning the Disputes that had been +between them about _Transubstantiation_, or the _real Presence_ of +Christ in the consecrated Wafer, of which Sir _Thomas_ was a strenuous +Maintainer, and _Erasmus_ an Opponent; of which, when _Erasmus_ saw he +was too strongly byassed to be convinced by Arguments, he at last made +use of the following facetious Retortion on him. It seems in their +Disputes concerning the real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, which +were in _Latin_, Sir _Thomas_ had frequently used this Expression, and +laid the Stress of his Proof upon the Force of Believing, _Crede quod +edis et edis_, _i.e._ Believe you eat [Christ] and you do eat him; +therefore _Erasmus_ answers him, _Crede quod habes et habes, Believe +that you have_ [_your Horse_] _and you have him_. It seems, at +_Erasmus's_ going away, Sir _Thomas_ had lent him his Horse to carry him +to the Sea-side or _Dover_; but he either carried him with him over Sea +to _Holland_, or sent him not back to Sir _Thomas_, at least for some +Time; upon which Sir _Thomas_ writing to _Erasmus_ about his Horse, +_Erasmus_ is said to have written back to him as follows. + + _Ut mihi scripsisti de corpore Christi, + Crede quod edis et edis. + Sic tibi rescribo de tuo Palfrido; + Crede quod habes et habes_. + +Being arriv'd at _Flanders_ by the Interest of _Sylvagius_ Chancellor +to _Charles of Austria_, afterwards Emperor of _Germany_, known by the +name of _Charles_ V: he was made one of his Counsellors. + +In the mean Time _Johannes Frobenius_, a famous Printer, having printed +many of his Works at _Basil_ in _Switzerland_, and being much taken with +the Elegancy of his Printing, and the Neatness of his Edition, he went +thither, pretending that he undertook that Journey for the Performance +of some Vow he had made; he was kindly entertain'd by him, and publish'd +several Books there, and dedicated this his Book of Colloquies to +_Frobenius's_ Son, and resided till the Mass had been put down there by +the Reformers. When he left that Place, he retir'd to _Friburg_ in +_Alsace_. Before his going to _Friburg_, he visited the low Countries to +settle certain Affairs there. And was at _Cologn_ at the Time that the +Assembly was at _Worms_, which being dissolv'd, he went again to +_Basil_, either, as some say, for the Recovery of his Health, or, as +others, for the publishing of several Books. He receiv'd the Bounty and +Munificence of several Kings, Princes, and Popes, and was honourably +entertain'd by many of the chief Cities which he pass'd through. And by +his Procurement, a College of three Languages was instituted at +_Louvain_, at the Charge of _Hieronimus Buslidius_, Governour of _Aria_, +out of certain Monies he at his Death bequeath'd to the use of studious +and learned Men. An Account of which coming to the Ears of _Francis_ +King of _France_, he invited him by Letters to _Paris_, in order, by his +Advice to erect the like College there. But certain Affairs happening, +his Journey thither was hindred. He went to _Friburg_ in _Alsace_, where +he bought him an House, and liv'd seven Years in great Esteem and +Reputation, both with the chief Magistrates and Citizens of the Place, +and all Persons of any Note in the University. But his Distemper, which +was the Gout, coming rudely upon him, he, thinking the Change of Air +would afford him Relief, sold his House, and went again to _Basil_, to +the House of _Frobenius_; but he had not been there above nine Months +before his Gout violently assaulted him, and his strength having +gradually decay'd, he was seized with a Dysentery, under which having +laboured for a Month, it at last overcame him, and he died at the House +of _Jerome Frobenius_, the son of _John_ the famous Printer, the 12th +of _July_ 1536, about Midnight, being about seventy Years of Age: After +his last retreat to _Basil_, he went seldom abroad; and for some of the +last Months stirred not out of his Chamber. He retained a sound Mind, +even to the last Moments of his Life; and, as a certain Author saith, +bid Farewell to the World, and passed into the State of another Life, +after the Manner of a Protestant, without the Papistical Ceremonies of +Rosaries, Crosses, Confession, Absolution, or receiving the +transubstantiated Wafer, and in one Word, not desiring to have any of +the _Romish_ Superstitions administered, but according to the true Tenor +of the Gospel, taking Sanctuary in nothing but the Mercies of God in +Christ. And finding himself near Death, he gave many Testimonies of +Piety and Christian Hope in God's Mercy, and oftentimes cry'd out in the +_German_ Language, _Liever Godt_, _i.e._ dear God; often repeating, O +Jesus have Mercy on me! O Lord, deliver me! Lord, put an End to my +Misery! Lord, have Mercy upon me. + +In his last Will, he made the celebrated Lawyer _Bonifacius Amerbachius_ +his Executor, bequeathing the greatest Part of his Substance to +charitable Uses; as for the Maintenance of such as were poor and +disabled through Age or Sickness; for the Marrying of poor young +Virgins, to keep them from Temptations to Unchastity; for the +maintaining hopeful Students in the University, and such like charitable +Uses. In the overseeing of his Will, he join'd with _Amerbachius_, two +others, _Jerome Frobenius_, and _Nicholas Episcopius_, who were his +intimate Friends, and whom a certain Author says, had then espoused the +Reformation began by _Luther_ and other Reformers. The city of _Basil_ +still pays _Erasmus_ the Respect which is due to the Memory of so +eminent a Person; they not only call'd one of the Colleges there after +his Name, but shew the House where he died to Strangers, with as much +Veneration as the People of _Roterdam_ do the House where he was born. + +I shall not here pretend to give a Catalogue of all _Erasmus's_ genuine +Pieces, which they shew at _Basil_: As to his Colloquies and _Moria +Encomium_, they have seen more Editions than any other of his Works; and +_Moreri_ says, that a Bookseller at _Paris_, who thoroughly understood +his Trade, sold twenty four thousand of them at one Impression, by +getting it whisper'd to his Customers, that the Book was prohibited, and +would suddenly be call'd in. + +He was buried at _Basil_, in the Cathedral Church, on the left Side near +the Choir, in a Marble Tomb; on the fore Side of which was this +Inscription: + + CHRISTO SERVATORIS. + DESID. ERASMO ROTERODAMO. + + _Viro_ omnibus modis maximo; + + Cujus incomparabilem in omni disciplinarum genere eruditionem, + pari conjunctam prudentia, + + _Posteri_ et admirabuntur et prædicabunt + + BONIFACIUS AMERBACHIUS, HIERONYMUS FROBENIUS, + NICHOLAS EPISCOPIUS Hæredes, + + Et nuncupati supremæ suæ voluntatis _vindices_ + + _Patrono optimo_, + + non _Memoriæ_, quam immortalem sibi Editis Lucubrationibus + comparavit, iis, tantisper dum orbis Terrarum stabit, superfuturo, + ac eruditis ubique gentium colloquuturo: sed _Corporis + Mortalis_, quo reconditum sit ergo, hoc saxum posuere. + + Mortuus est IV. Eidus Julias jam septuagenarius, Anno à + Christo nato, M.D. XXXVI. + +Upon the upper Part of the Tomb is a quadrangular Base, upon which +stands the Effigies of the Deity of _Terminus_, which _Erasmus_ chose +for the Impress of his Seal, and on the Front of that Base is this +Inscription. + + DES. ERASMUM ROTERODAMUM _Amici_ sub hoc saxo condebant, + + IV, eid. Julias M.D. XXXVI. + +In the Year 1549, a wooden Statue, in Honour of so great a Man, was +erected in the Market-place at _Roterdam_; and in the Year 1557, a Stone +one was erected in the Stead of it; but this having been defaced by the +_Spaniards_ in the Year 1572, as soon as the Country had recovered its +Liberty it was restored again. But in the Year 1622, instead of it, a +very compleat one of Brass eight Foot high with the Pedestal, was +erected, which is now standing on the Bridge at _Roterdam_, and likely +long to remain there, on the Foot of which is the following Inscription. + + DESIDERIO ERASMO MAGNO, + + Scientiarum atque Literature politioris _vindici et + instauratori_: _Viro_ sæculi sui _Primario_, _civi_ + omnium præstantissimo, ac nominis immortalitatem scriptis + æviternis jure _consecuto_, S.P.Q. ROTERODAMUS. + + Ne quod tantis apud se suosque posteros _virtutibus_ + præmium deesset, _Statuam_ hanc ex sere publico erigendam + curaverunt. + + +On the right Side are these Verses of _Nicholas Heinsius_. + + _Barbariæ talem se debellator_ Erasmus, + _Maxima laus Batavi nominis, ore tulit. + Reddidit, en, fatis, Ars obluctata sinistris, + De tanto spolium nacta quod urna viro est. + Ingenii cæleste jubar, majusque caduco + Tempore qui reddat, solus_ Erasmus _erit_. + +On the left Side, and behind, there is an Inscription in the _Dutch_ +Language, much to the Purport of the first Inscription. On the House +where _Erasmus_ was born, formerly was this Inscription. + + _Hæc est parva Domus, magnus quâ natus_ Erasmus. + +The same House being rebuilt and enlarged, has the following +Inscription. + + _Ædibus his ortus Mundum decoravit_ Erasmus, + _Artibus ingenuis, Religione, Fide_. + +As for his Stature, he was neither very low nor very tall, his Body well +set, proportioned and handsome, neither fat nor lean, but of a nice and +tender Constitution, and easily put out of Order with the least +Deviation from his ordinary Way of Living; he had from his Childhood so +great an Aversion to eating of Fish, that he never attempted it without +the Danger of his Life, and therefore obtain'd a Dispensation from the +Pope from eating Fish in _Lent_, as appears by the Story of _Eras_, (as +he stiles himself) in the Colloquy call'd _Ichthyophagia_. He was of a +fair and pale Complexion, had a high Forehead, his Hair, in his younger +Years, inclining to yellow, his Nose pretty long, a little thick at the +End, his Mouth something large, but not ill made, his Eyes grey but +lively, his Countenance chearful and pleasant, his Voice small, but +musical, his Speech distinct and plain, pleasant and jocose, his Gaite +handsome and grave; he had a, most happy Memory and acute Wit, he was +very constant to his Friend, and exceeding liberal to those that were +under Necessity, especially to studious and hopeful Youths, and to such +as were destitute in their Journey: In his Conversation he was very +pleasant and affable, free from peevish and morose Humours, but very +witty and satyrical. It is related, that when _Erasmus_ was told, that +_Luther_ had married and gotten the famous _Catharine Bora_ with Child, +he should in a jesting Manner say, that, if according to the popular +Tradition, _Antichrist_ was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, the +World was in a fair Way now to have a Litter of Antichrists. + +I shall conclude with the Character given of _Erasmus_ by Mr. _Thomas +Brown_, who comparing him with _Lucian_, says, That whereas _Erasmus_ +had translated Part of his Dialogues into _Latin_, he had made _Lucian_ +the Pattern of his Colloquies, and had copied his Graces with that +Success, that it is difficult to say which of the two was the Original. + +That both of them had an equal Aversion to austere, sullen, designing +Knaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever. That both of +them were Men of Wit and Satyr, but that _Erasmus_, according to the +Genius of his Country, had more of the Humourist in him than _Lucian_, +and in all Parts of Learning was infinitely his Superior. That _Lucian_ +liv'd in an Age, when Fiction and Fable had usurp'd the Name of +Religion, and Morality was debauch'd by a Set of sowr Scoundrels, Men of +Beard and Grimace, but scandalously lewd and ignorant, who yet had the +Impudence to preach up Virtue, and stile themselves Philosophers, +perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of their +several Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if it is +possible, about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in a +different Way, to dupe and amuse the poor People by the fantastick +Singularity of their Habits, the unintelligible Jargon of their Schools, +and their Pretentions to a severe and mortified Life. This motly Herd of +Jugglers _Lucian_ in a great Measure help'd to chase out of the World, +by exposing them in their proper Colours. + +But in a few Generations after him, a new Generation sprung up in the +World, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from the +former in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in the +main, the same individual Imposters; the same everlasting +Cobweb-Spinners as to their nonsensical Controversies, the same +abandon'd Rakehells as to their Morals; but as for the mysterious Arts +of heaping up Wealth, and picking the Peoples Pockets, as much superior +to their Predecessors the _Pagan_ Philosophers, as an overgrown +Favourite that cheats a whole Kingdom, is to a common Malefactor. + +These were the sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices _Erasmus_ has +so effectually lash'd, that some Countries have entirely turn'd these +Drones out of their Cells, and in other Places where they are still +kept, they are grown contemptible to the highest Degree, and oblig'd to +be always upon their Guard. + + + + +THE + +_Familiar Colloquies_ + +OF + +DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, + +OF + +_ROTERDAM_. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Courtesy and Civility in Saluting, + who, when, and by what Title we ought to Salute_. + + +_At the First Meeting_. + +A Certain Person teaches, and not without Reason, that we should Salute +freely. For a courteous and kind Salutation oftentimes engages +Friendship, and reconciles Persons at Variance, and does undoubtedly +nourish and increase a mutual Benevolence. There are indeed some Persons +that are such Churls, and of so clownish a Disposition, that if you +salute them, they will scarcely salute you again. But this Vice is in +some Persons rather the Effect of their Education, than their natural +Disposition. + +It is a Piece of Civility to salute those that come in your Way; either +such as come to us, or those that we go to speak with. And in like +Manner such as are about any Sort of Work, either at Supper, or that +yawn, or hiccop, or sneeze, or cough. But it is the Part of a Man that +is civil even to an Extreme, to salute one that belches, or breaks Wind +backward. But he is uncivilly civil that salutes one that is making +Water, or easing Nature. + +God save you Father, God save you little Mother, God save you Brother, +God save you my worthy Master, God save you heartily Uncle, God save you +sweet Cousin. + +It is courteous to make Use of a Title of Relation or Affinity, unless +when it carries something of a Reflection along with it, then indeed it +is better not to use such Titles, tho' proper; but rather some that are +more engaging, as when we call a Mother in Law, Mother; a Son in Law, +Son; a Father in Law, Father; a Sister's Husband, Brother; a Brother's +Wife, Sister: And the same we should do in Titles, either of Age or +Office. For it will be more acceptable to salute an antient Man by the +Name of Father, or venerable Sir, than by the Sirname of Age; altho' in +antient Times they used to make use of [Greek: hô geron], as an +honourable Title. God save you Lieutenant, God save you Captain; but not +God save you Hosier or Shoe-maker. God save you Youth, or young Man. Old +Men salute young Men that are Strangers to them by the Name of Sons, and +young Men again salute them by the Name of Fathers or Sirs. + + +_A more affectionate Salutation between Lovers_. + +God save you my little _Cornelia_, my Life, my Light, my Delight, my +Sweet-heart, my Honey, my only Pleasure, my little Heart, my Hope, my +Comfort, my Glory. + + +_Either for the Sake of Honour or otherwise_. + +_Sal._ O Master, God bless ye. + +_Ans._ Oh! Good Sir, I wish you the same. + +_Sal._ God bless you most accomplish'd, and most famous Sir. God bless +you again and again thou Glory of Learning. God save you heartily my +very good Friend. God save you my _Mæcenas_. + +_Ans._ God save you my Singular Patron, God save you most approv'd Sir. +God save you, the only Ornament of this Age. God bless you, the Delight +of _Germany_. + +_Sal._ God bless you all together. God bless you all alike. + +_Ans._ God bless you my brave Boys. + +_Sal._ God save you merry Companion. God bless you Destroyer of Wine. + +_Ans._ God bless you Glutton, and unmerciful Devourer of Cakes. + +_Sal._ God bless you heartily President of all Virtue. + +_Ans._ God bless you in like Manner, Pattern of universal Honesty. + +_Sal._ God save you little old Woman of Fifteen Years of Age. + +_Ans._ God save you Girl, eighty Years old. + +_Sal._ Much good may it do you with your bald Pate. + +_Ans._ And much good may it do you with your slit Nose. As you salute, +so you shall be saluted again. If you say that which is ill, you shall +hear that which is worse. + +_Sal._ God save you again and again. + +_Ans._ God save you for ever and ever. + +_Sal._ God save you more than a thousand Times. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather be well once for all. + +_Sal._ God bless you as much as you can desire. + +_Ans._ And you as much as you deserve. + +_Sal._ I wish you well. + +_Ans._ But what if I won't be so? In truth I had rather be sick, than to +enjoy the Health that you want. + +God bless your Holiness, Your Greatness, Your Highness, Your Majesty, +Your Beatitude, Your High Mightiness, are Salutations rather us'd by the +Vulgar, than approv'd by the Learned. + + +_In the Third Person_. + +_Sapidus_ wishes Health to his _Erasmus_. + +_Sapidus_ salutes his _Beatus_, wishing him much Health. + + * * * * * + +_Another Form_. + +_Sal._ God bless you _Crito_, I wish you well good Sir. + +_Ans._ And I wish you better. Peace be to thee Brother, is indeed a +Christian Salutation, borrow'd from the _Jews_: but yet not to be +rejected. And of the like Kind is, A happy Life to you. + +_Sal._ Hail Master. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather have than crave. + +_Sal._ [Greek: Chaire]. + +_Ans._ Remember you are at _Basil_, and not _Athens_. + +_Sal._ How do you then dare to speak _Latin_ when you are not at _Rome_? + + * * * * * + +_Forms of well Wishing_. + +And to wish well is a Sort of Salutation. + + +_To a Woman with Child_. + +God send you a good Delivery, and that you may make your Husband Father +of a fine Child. May the Virgin Mother make you a happy Mother. I wish +that this swell'd Belly may asswage happily. Heaven grant that this +Burthen you carry, whatsoever it is, may have as easy an out-coming as +it had an in-going. God give you a good Time. + + +_To Guests_. + +Happy be this Feast. Much good may it do all the Company. I wish all +Happiness to you all. God give you a happy Banquet. + +_To one that sneezes._ + +May it be lucky and happy to you. God keep you. May it be for your +Health. God bless it to you. + +_To one that is about to begin any Business._ + +May it prove happy and prosperous for the Publick Good. May that you are +going about be an universal Good. God prosper what you are about. God +bless your Labours. God bless your Endeavours. I pray that by God's +Assistance you may happily finish what you have begun. May Christ in +Heaven prosper what is under your Hand. May what you have begun end +happily. May what you are set about end happily. You are about a good +Work, I wish you a good End of it, and that propitious Heaven may favour +your pious Undertakings. Christ give Prosperity to your Enterprise. May +what you have undertaken prosper. I heartily beg of Almighty God that +this Design may be as successful as it is honourable. May the Affair so +happily begun, more happily end. I wish you a good Journey to _Italy_, +and a better Return. I wish you a happy Voyage, and a more happy Return. +I pray God that, this Journey being happily perform'd, we may in a short +Time have the Opportunity of congratulating you upon your happy Return. +May it be your good Fortune to make a good Voyage thither and back +again. May your Journey be pleasant, but your Return more pleasant. I +wish this Journey may succeed according to your Heart's Desire. I wish +this Journey may be as pleasant to you, as the want of your good Company +in the mean Time will be troublesome to us. May you set Sail with +promising Presages. I wish this Journey may succeed according to both +our Wishes. I wish this Bargain may be for the Good and Advantage of us +both. I wish this may be a happy Match to us all. The blessed Jesus God +keep thee. Kind Heaven return you safe. God keep thee who art one Half +of my Life. I wish you a safe Return. I wish that this New-Year may +begin happily, go on more happily, and end most happily to you, and +that you may have many of them, and every Year happier than other. + +_Ans._ And I again wish you many happy Ages, that you mayn't wish well +to me _gratis_. + +_Sal._ I wish you a glorious Day to Day. May this Sun-rising be a happy +one to you. + +_Ans._ I wish you the same. May this be a happy and a prosperous Morning +to both of us. + +_Sal._ Father, I wish you a good Night. I wish you good Repose to Night. +May you sleep sweetly. God give you good Rest. May you sleep without +dreaming. God send you may either sleep sweetly or dream pleasantly. A +good Night to you. + +_Ans._ Since you always love to be on the getting Hand, I wish you a +thousand Happinesses to one you wish to me. + + * * * * * + +_Farewell at parting._ + +Fare ye all well. Farewell. Take care of your Health. Take a great Care +of your Health. I bid you good by, Time calls me away, fare ye well. I +wish you as well as may be. Farewell mightily, or if you had rather have +it so, lustily. Fare you well as you are worthy. Fare you as well as you +deserve. Farewell for these two Days. If you send me away, farewell till +to-morrow. Would you have any Thing with me? Have you any Thing else to +say to me? + +_Ans._ Nothing but to wish you well. + +_Sal._ Take Care to preserve your Health. Take Care of your Health. Look +well to your Health. See that at the next Meeting we see you merry and +hearty. I charge you make much of your self. See that you have a sound +Mind in a healthful Body. Take Care you be universally well both in Body +and Mind. + +_Ans._ I'll promise you I will do my Endeavour. Fare you well also; and +I again wish you prosperous Health. + +_Of saluting by another._ + +Remember my hearty Love to _Frobenius_. Be sure to remember my Love to +little _Erasmus_. Remember me to _Gertrude's_ Mother with all imaginable +Respect; tell them I wish 'em all well. Remember me to my old +Companions. Remember me to my Friends. Give my Love to my Wife. Remember +me to your Brother in your Letter. Remember my Love to my Kinsman. Have +you any Service to command by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Tell them I wish them all heartily well. + +_Sal._ Have you any Recommendations to send by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Much Health to them all, but especially to my Father. + +_Sal._ Are there any Persons to whom you would command me any Service? + +_Ans._ To all that ask how I do. The Health you have brought from my +Friends to me, carry back again with much Interest. Carry my hearty +Service to all them that have sent their Service to me. Pray do so much +as be my Representative in saluting my Friends. I would have written to +my Son in Law, but you will serve me instead of a Letter to him. + +_Sal._ Soho, soho, whither are you going so fast? + +_Ans._ Strait to _Louvain_. + +_Sal._ Stay a little, I have something to send by you. + +_Ans._ But it is inconvenient for a Footman to carry a Fardel? What is +it? + +_Sal._ That you recommend me to _Goclenius, Rutgerus, John Campensis_, +and all the Society of Trilinguists. + +_Ans._ If you put nothing into my Snapsack but Healths, I shall carry +them with Ease. + +_Sal._ And that you may not do that for nothing, I pray that Health may +be your Companion both going and coming back. + + +_How we ought to congratulate one that is return'd from a Journey._ + +We are glad you are come well Home. It is a Pleasure that you are come +Home safe. It is a Pleasure to us that you are come well Home. We +congratulate your happy Return. We give God Thanks that you are come +safe Home to us. The more uneasy we were at the Want of you, the more +glad we are to see you again. We congratulate you and ourselves too that +you are come Home to us alive and well. Your Return is the more pleasant +by how much it was less expected. + +_Ans._ I am glad too that as I am well myself I find you so. I am very +glad to find you in good Health. I should not have thought myself well +come Home if I had not found you well; but now I think myself safe, in +that I see you safe and in good Health. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking Questions at the first meeting._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Forms of enquiring at the first + meeting. Whence come you? What News bring you? How do you + do? &c._ + + +_GEORGE, LIVINUS._ + +_George._ Out of what Hen-Coop or Cave came you? + +_Liv._ Why do you ask me such a Question? + +_Ge._ Because you have been so poorly fed; you are so thin a Body may +see thro' you, and as dry as a Kecks. Whence came you from? + +_Liv._ From Montacute College. + +_Ge._ Then sure you are come loaden with Letters for us. + +_Liv._ Not so, but with Lice I am. + +_Ge._ Well then you had Company enough. + +_Liv._ In truth it is not safe for a Traveller now a Days to go without +Company. + +_Ge._ I know well enough a Louse is a Scholar's Companion. Well but do +you bring any News from _Paris_? + +_Liv._ Ay, I do, and that in the first Place that I know you won't +believe. At _Paris_ a _Bete_ is wise, and an _Oak_ preaches. + +_Ge._ What's that you tell me? + +_Liv._ That which you hear. + +_Ge._ What is it I hear? + +_Liv._ That which I tell you. + +_Ge._ O monstrous! Sure Mushrooms and Stones must be the Hearers where +there are such Preachers. + +_Liv._ Well, but it is even so as I tell you, nor do I speak only by +hear say, but what I know to be true. + +_Ge._ Sure Men must needs be very wise there where _Betes_ and _Oaks_ +are so. + +_Liv._ You are in the right on't. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring concerning Health._ + +_Ge._ Are you well? + +_Liv._ Look in my Face. + +_Ge._ Why do you not rather bid me cast your Water? Do you take me for a +Doctor? I don't ask you if you are in Health, for your Face bespeaks you +so to be; but I ask you how you like your own Condition? + +_Liv._ I am very well in my Body, but sick in my Mind. + +_Ge._ He's not well indeed that is sick in that Part. + +_Liv._ This is my Case, I'm well in my Body, but sick in my Pocket. + +_Ge._ Your Mother will easily cure that Distemper. How have you done for +this long Time? + +_Liv._ Sometimes better, and sometimes worse, as human Affairs commonly +go. + +_Ge._ Are you very well in health? Are your Affairs in a good +Condition? Are your Circumstances as you would have them? Have you +always had your Health well? + +_Liv._ Very well, I thank God. By God's Goodness I have always had my +Health very well. I have always been very well hitherto. I have been in +very good, favourable, secure, happy, prosperous, successful, perfect +Health, like a Prince, like a Champion, fit for any Thing. + +_Ge._ God send you may always enjoy the same. I am glad to hear it. You +give me a Pleasure in saying so. It is very pleasant to me to hear that. +I am glad at my Heart to hear this from you. This is no bad News to me. +I am exceeding glad to hear you say so. I wish you may be so always. I +wish you may enjoy the same Health as long as you live. In +congratulating you, I joy myself, Thanks to Heaven for it. + +_Li._ Indeed I am very well if you are so. + +_Ge._ Well, but have you met with no Trouble all this while? + +_Li._ None but the Want of your good Company. + +_Ge._ Well, but how do you do though? + +_Li._ Well enough, finely, bravely, very well as may be, very well +indeed, happily, commodiously, no Way amiss. I enjoy rather what Health +I wish, than what I deserved, Princely, Herculean, Champion-like. + +_Ge._ I was expecting when you would say Bull-like too. + + * * * * * + +_Of being Ill._ + +_Ge._ Are you in good Health? + +_Li._ I wish I were. Not altogether so well as I would be. Indeed I am +so, so. Pretty well. I am as well as I can be, since I can't be so well +as I would be. As I use to be. So as it pleases God. Truly not very +well. Never worse in all my Life. As I am wont to be. I am as they use +to be who have to do with the Doctor. + +_Ge._ How do you do? + +_Li._ Not as I would do. + +_Ge._ Why truly not well, ill, very ill, in an unhappy, unprosperous, +unfavourable, bad, adverse, unlucky, feeble, dubious, indifferent, State +of Health, not at all as I would, a tolerable, such as I would not wish +even to my Enemies. + +_Ge._ You tell me a melancholy Story. Heavens forbid it. God forbid. No +more of that I pray. I wish what you say were not true. But you must be +of good Chear, you must pluck up a good Heart. A good Heart is a good +Help in bad Circumstances. You must bear up your Mind with the Hope of +better Fortune. What Distemper is it? What Sort of Disease is it? What +Distemper is it that afflicts you? What Distemper are you troubled with? + +_Li._ I can't tell, and in that my Condition is the more dangerous. + +_Ge._ That's true, for when the Disease is known, it is half cured. Have +you had the Advice of any Doctor? + +_Li._ Ay, of a great many. + +_Ge._ What do they say to your Case? + +_Li._ What the Lawyers of _Demiphon_ (in the Play) said to him. One says +one Thing, another he says another, and the third he'll consider of it. +But they all agree in this, that I am in a sad Condition. + +_Ge._ How long have you been taken with this Illness? How long have you +been ill of this Distemper? How long has this Illness seiz'd you? + +_Li._ About twenty Days more or less, almost a Month. It's now near +three Months. It seems an Age to me since I was first taken ill. + +_Ge._ But I think you ought to take care that the Distemper don't grow +upon you. + +_Li._ It has grown too much upon me already. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dropsy? + +_Li._ They say it is not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dissentery? + +_Li._ I think not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Fever? + +_Li._ I believe it is a Kind of Fever; but a new one, as ever and anon +new ones spring up that were unknown before. + +_Ge._ There were more old ones than enough before. + +_Li._ Thus it pleases Nature to deal with us, which is a little too +severe. + +_Ge._ How often does the Fit come? + +_Li._ How often do you say? Every Day, nay every Hour indeed. + +_Ge._ O wonderful! It is a sad Affliction. How did you get this +Distemper? How do you think you came by it? + +_Li._ By Reason of Want. + +_Ge._ Why you don't use to be so superstitious as to starve yourself +with Fasting. + +_Li._ It is not Bigotry but Penury. + +_Ge._ What do you mean by Penury? + +_Li._ I mean I could get no Victuals, I believe it came by a Cold. I +fancy I got the Distemper by eating rotten Eggs. By drinking too much +Water in my Wine. This Crudity in my Stomach came by eating green +Apples. + +_Ge._ But consider whether you han't contracted this Distemper by long +and late Studying, by hard Drinking, or immoderate use of Venery? Why +don't you send for a Doctor? + +_Li._ I am afraid he should do me more Harm than good. I am afraid he +should poison me instead of curing me. + +_Ge._ You ought to chuse one that you can confide in. + +_Li._ If I must dye, I had rather dye once for all, than to be tormented +with so many Slops. + +_Ge._ Well then, be your own Doctor. If you can't trust to a Doctor, +pray God be your Physician. There have been some that have recover'd +their Health, by putting on a Dominican or a Franciscan Fryars Cowl. + +_Li._ And perhaps it had been the same Thing, if they had put on a +Whore-master's Cloak. These things have no Effect upon those that have +no Faith in 'em. + +_Ge._ Why then, believe that you may recover. Some have been cur'd by +making Vows to a Saint. + +_Li._ But I have no Dealings with Saints. + +_Ge._ Then pray to Christ that you may have Faith, and that he would be +pleased to bestow the Blessing of Health upon you. + +_Li._ I can't tell whether it would be a Blessing or no. + +_Ge._ Why, is it not a Blessing to be freed from a Distemper? + +_Li._ Sometimes it is better to dye. I ask nothing of him, but only that +he'd give me what would be best for me. + +_Ge._ Take something to purge you. + +_Li._ I am laxative enough already. + +_Ge._ Take something to make you go to Stool. You must take a Purge. + +_Li._ I ought to take something that is binding rather, for I am too +laxative. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring of a Person upon his Return_. + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Of interrogating a Person returning from a Journey, + concerning War, private Affairs, a Disappointment, great + Promises, a Wife Lying-in, Dangers, Losses_, &c. + + +_George._ Have you had a good and prosperous Journey? + +_Li._ Pretty good; but that there is such Robbing every where. + +_Ge._ This is the Effect of War. + +_Li._ It is so, but it is a wicked one. + +_Ge._ Did you come on Foot or on Horse-back? + +_Li._ Part of the Way a Foot, Part in a Coach, Part on Horse-back, and +Part by Sea. + +_Ge._ How go Matters in _France?_ + +_Li._ All's in Confusion, there's nothing but War talk'd of. What +Mischiefs they may bring upon their Enemies I know not; but this I'm +sure of, the _French_ themselves are afflicted with unexpressible +Calamities. + +_Ge._ Whence come all these tumultuary Wars? + +_Li._ Whence should they come but from the Ambition of Monarchs? + +_Ge._ But it would be more their Prudence to appease these Storms of +human Affairs. + +_Li._ Appease 'em! Ay, so they do, as the South Wind does the Sea. They +fancy themselves to be Gods, and that the World was made for their +Sakes. + +_Ge._ Nay, rather a Prince was made for the Good of the Commonwealth, +and not the Commonwealth for the Sake of the Prince. + +_Li._ Nay, there are Clergymen too, who blow up the Coals, and sound an +Alarm to these Tumults. + +_Ge._ I'd have them set in the Front of the Battel. + +_Li._ Ay, ay, but they take Care to keep out of Harm's Way. + +_Ge._ But let us leave these publick Affairs to Providence. How go your +own Matters? + +_Li._ Very well, happily, indifferently well, tolerably. + +_Ge._ How goes it with your own Business? As you would have it? + +_Li._ Nay, better than I could have wish'd for, better than I deserve, +beyond what I could have hop'd for. + +_Ge._ Are all Things according to your Mind? Is all well? Has every +Thing succeeded? + +_Li._ It can't be worse. It is impossible it should be worse than it is. + +_Ge._ What then, han't you got what you sought for? Han't you caught the +Game you hunted? + +_Li._ Hunt! Ay, I did hunt indeed, but with very ill Success. + +_Ge._ But is there no Hope then? + +_Li._ Hope enough, but nothing else. + +_Ge._ Did the Bishop give you no Hopes? + +_Li._ Yes, whole Cart Loads, and whole Ship Loads of Hope; but nothing +else. + +_Ge._ Has he sent you nothing yet? + +_Li._ He promis'd me largely, but he has never sent me a Farthing. + +_Ge._ Then you must live in Hopes. + +_Li._ Ay, but that won't fill the Belly; they that feed upon Hope may be +said to hang, but not to live. + +_Ge._ But however then, you were the lighter for travelling, not having +your Pockets loaded. + +_Li._ I confess that, nay, and safer too; for an empty Pocket is the +best Defence in the World against Thieves; but for all that, I had +rather have the Burthen and the Danger too. + +_Ge._ You was not robb'd of any Thing by the Way, I hope? + +_Li._ Robb'd! What can you rob a Man of that has nothing? There was more +Reason for other Folks to be afraid of me, than I of them, having never +a Penny in my Pocket. I might sing and be starved all the Way I went. +Have you anything more to say? + +_Ge._ Where are you going now? + +_Li._ Strait Home, to see how all do there, whom I han't seen this long +Time. + +_Ge._ I wish you may find all well at Home. + +_Li._ I pray God I may. Has any Thing new happen'd at our House since I +went away? + +_Ge._ Nothing but only you'll find your Family bigger than it was; for +your _Catulla_ has brought you a little _Catulus_ since you have been +gone. Your Hen has laid you an Egg. + +_Li._ That's good News, I like your News, and I'll promise to give you a +Gospel for it. + +_Ge._ What Gospel? The Gospel according to St. _Matthew_? + +_Li._ No, but according to _Homer_. Here take it. + +_Ge._ Keep your Gospel to yourself, I have Stones enough at Home. + +_Li._ Don't slight my Present, it is the Eagle's Stone; It is good for +Women with Child; it is good to bring on their Labour. + +_Ge._ Say you so? Then it is a very acceptable Present to me, and I'll +endeavour to make you Amends. + +_Li._ The Amends is made already by your kind Acceptance. + +_Ge._ Nay, nothing in the World could come more seasonably, for my +Wife's Belly is up to her Mouth almost. + +_Li._ Then I'll make this Bargain with you; that if she has a Boy, you +will let me be the Godfather. + +_Ge._ Well I'll promise you that, and that you shall name it too. + +_Li._ I wish it may be for both our Good. + +_Ge._ Nay, for all our Good. + + * * * * * + +_MAURICE, CYPRIAN._ + +_Ma._ You are come back fatter than you used to be: You are returned +taller. + +_Cy._ But in Truth I had rather it had been wiser, or more learned. + +_Ma._ You had no Beard when you went away; but you have brought a little +one back with you. You are grown somewhat oldish since you went away. +What makes you look so pale, so lean, so wrinkled? + +_Cy._ As is my Fortune, so is the Habit of my Body. + +_Ma._ Has it been but bad then? + +_Cy._ She never is otherwise to me, but never worse in my Life than now. + +_Ma._ I am sorry for that. I am sorry for your Misfortune. But pray, +what is this Mischance? + +_Cy._ I have lost all my Money. + +_Ma._ What in the Sea? + +_Cy._ No, on Shore, before I went abroad. + +_Ma._ Where? + +_Cy._ Upon the _English_ Coast. + +_Ma._ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your +Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of +Money. + +_Cy._ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost. + +_Ma._ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation +very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or +another. But how came it about? + +_Cy._ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the +Devil would have it. + +_Ma._ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as +they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him +that carries them. + +_Cy._ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in +Perplexity. + + * * * * * + +_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS._ + +_Cl._ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_. + +_Ba._ And I to see you alive _Claudius_. + +_Cl._ You are welcome Home into your own Country again. + +_Ba._ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_. + +_Cl._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because they are all up in Arms there. + +_Cl._ But what have Scholars to do with Arms? + +_Ba._ But there they don't spare even Scholars. + +_Cl._ It is well you're got off safe. + +_Ba._ But I did not get off without Danger neither. + +_Cl._ You are come back quite another Man than you went away. + +_Ba._ How so? + +_Cl._ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man. + +_Ba._ Why, was I a Capon when I went away? + +_Cl._ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a +_French_ Man. + +_Ba._ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen. +But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_ +Man. + +_Cl._ Have you learn'd to speak _French?_ + +_Ba._ Indifferently well. + +_Cl._ How did you learn it? + +_Ba._ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you. + +_Cl._ From whom. + +_Ba._ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves. + +_Cl._ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce +the _French_ well? + +_Ba._ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode. + +_Cl._ Then you will never write good Verses. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Cl._ Because you'll make false Quantities. + +_Ba._ The Quality is enough for me. + +_Cl._ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague? + +_Ba._ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon +it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again. + +_Cl._ Is not War itself Plague enough? + +_Ba._ It is so, unless God thought otherwise. + +_Cl._ Sure Bread must be very dear there. + +_Ba._ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every +Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there. + +_Cl._ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the +_Germans_? + +_Ba._ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to +the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War. + +_Cl._ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert +ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a +little Business that calls me to another Place. + + + + +_FAMILY DISCOURSE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of + intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of + familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad, + and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking + concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure, + the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely + Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard, + &c._ + + +PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS. + +_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door? + +_Mi._ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be +some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast +brought? + +_Pe._ Myself. + +_Mi._ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth. + +_Pe._ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal. + +_Mi._ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again. + +_Pe._ But is _Jodocus_ at Home? + +_Mi._ I can't tell, but I'll go see. + +_Pe._ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now. + +_Mi._ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy. + +_Pe._ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home? + +_Jo._ No, I am not. + +_Pe._ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak? + +_Jo._ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it +lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself. + +_Pe._ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind. + +_Jo._ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body, +but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you. + +_Pe._ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail. + +_Jo._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a +lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows +to your Seat. + +_Jo._ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and +if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept +me from going abroad. + +_Pe._ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how +charming pleasant it is. + +_Jo._ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it. + +_Pe._ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine +Weather. + +_Jo._ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us. + +_Pe._ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then. + +_Jo._ What if we should get Hugh? + +_Pe._ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo._ + +_Jo._ Come on then, I like it mighty well. + +_Pe._ What if we should call _Alardus?_ + +_Jo._ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll +make up in Talking. + +_Pe._ If you will, we'll get _Nævius_ along with us too. + +_Jo._ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the +Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place. + +_Pe._ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a +Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of +Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves. + +_Jo._ You promise nobly. + +_Pe._ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your +Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study. + +_Jo._ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love. + +_Pe._ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live +pleasantly. + +_Jo._ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study. + +_Pe._ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to +Death. + +_Pe._ Has this Walk pleas'd you? + +_Jo._ It has been a charming pleasant one. + + + * * * * * + + +_2. GILES, LEONARD._ + + +_Gi._ Where is our Leonard a going? + +_Le._ I was coming to you. + +_Gi._ That you do but seldom. + +_Le._ Why so? + +_Gi._ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months. + +_Le._ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome. + +_Gi._ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the +oftner you come the more welcome you are. + +_Le._ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House. + +_Gi._ Why truly not many Things as I would have them. + +_Le._ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet? + +_Gi._ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too. + +_Le._ How, two at once! + +_Gi._ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again. + +_Le._ That's the Way to increase your Family. + +_Gi._ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife +does my Family. + +_Le._ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet? + +_Gi._ No, not yet. + +_Le._ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a +great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her. + +_Gi._ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already. + +_Le._ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like +the best of them? + +_Gi._ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my +Daughter won't hear of marrying. + +_Le._ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for +some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for +Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While. + +_Gi._ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's +in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old. + +_Le._ But why is she averse to Marriage? + +_Gi._ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ. + +_Le._ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil +Genius that lives chastly with a Husband? + +_Gi._ I don't think so. + +_Le._ How came that Whimsey into her Head? + +_Gi._ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that +can be said to her. + +_Le._ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or +draw her away. + +_Gi._ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of +Cattel as far from my House as I can. + +_Le._ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have +her Humour? + +_Gi._ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter +her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her +Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight +against the Monks. + +_Le._ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her +Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is +too late. + +_Gi._ I'll do my utmost Endeavours. + +_Le._ What Employment do your Sons follow? + +_Gi._ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father +in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did +nothing but play while he was here. + +_Le._ Why did you send him thither? + +_Gi._ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went. + +_Le._ Don't talk so. + +_Gi._ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders. + +_Le._ I wish 'em all well. + + * * * * * + +3. _MOPSUS, DROMO._ + +_Mo._ How is it? What are you doing Dromo? + +_Dr._ I'm sitting still. + +_Mo._ I see that; but how do Matters go with you? + +_Dr._ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons. + +_Mo._ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing? + +_Dr._ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all. + +_Mo._ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I +interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence? + +_Dr._ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being +alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion. + +_Mo._ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some +Business? + +_Dr._ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle. + +_Mo._ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably. + +_Dr._ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I +was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company. + +_Mo._ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no +means interrupt or hinder? + +_Dr._ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil +and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you. + +_Mo._ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I +came along. + +_Dr._ Which Ear was it? + +_Mo._ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me. + +_Dr._ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said. + +_Mo._ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you? + +_Dr._ They say you are become a Huntsman. + +_Mo._ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I +have been hunting after. + +_Dr._ What Game is it? + +_Mo._ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat +you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding. + +_Dr._ Pray, who is your Bride? + +_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_. + +_Dr._ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy +that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature. + +_Mo._ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not +you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you, +the more she'll please me. + + * * * * * + +4. _SYRUS, GETA._ + +_Sy._ I wish you much Happiness. + +_Ge._ And I wish you double what you wish me. + +_Sy._ What are you doing? + +_Ge._ I am talking. + +_Sy._ What! By yourself? + +_Ge._ As you see. + +_Sy._ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see +to it that you talk to an honest Man. + +_Ge._ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion. + +_Sy._ With whom? + +_Ge._ With _Apuleius_. + +_Sy._ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love +Intermission; you study continually. + +_Ge._ I am never tired with Study. + +_Sy._ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought +not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are +not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid +aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer +Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else +but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books. +You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a +studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon +your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give +yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission +in, nor ever give over studying. + +_Ge._ Very well! This is like you. You banter me as you use to do. You +make a Game of me. You joke upon me. You satyrize me. You treat me with +a Sneer. I see how you jeer me well enough. You only jest with me. I am +your Laughing-stock. I am laugh'd at by you. You make yourself merry +with me. You make a meer Game and Sport of me. Why don't you put me on +Asses Ears too? My Books, that are all over dusty and mouldy, shew how +hard a Studier I am. + +_Sy._ Let me die if I don't speak my Mind. Let me perish if I don't +speak as I think. Let me not live if I dissemble. I speak what I think. +I speak the Truth. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +nothing but what I think. + + * * * * * + +_Why don't you come to see me_? + +_Ge._ What's the Matter you ha'n't come to see me all this While? What's +the Matter you visit me so seldom? What has happen'd to you that you +never have come at me for so long Time? Why are you so seldom a Visitor? +What is the Meaning that you never come near one for so long Time? What +has hinder'd you that you have come to see me no oftner? What has +prevented you that you have never let me have the Opportunity of seeing +you for this long Time? + + * * * * * + +_I could not by Reason of Business._ + +_Sy._ I had not Leisure. I would have come, but I could not for my +Business. Business would not permit me hitherto to come to see you. +These Floods of Business that I have been plung'd in would not permit me +to pay my Respects to you. I have been so busy I could not come. I have +been harass'd with so many vexatious Matters that I could not get an +Opportunity. I have been so taken up with a troublesome Business that I +could never have so much Command of myself. You must impute it to my +Business, and not to me. It was not for Want of Will, but Opportunity. I +could not get Time till now. I have had no Time till now. I never have +had any Leisure till this Time. I have been so ill I could not come. I +could not come, the Weather has been so bad. + +_Ge._ Indeed I accept of your Excuse, but upon this Condition, that you +don't make use of it often. If Sickness has been the Occasion of your +Absence, your Excuse is juster than I wish it had been; I'll excuse you +upon this Condition, that you make Amends for your Omission by Kindness, +if you make up your past Neglect by your future frequent Visits. + +_Sy._ You don't esteem these common Formalities. Our Friendship is more +firm than to need to be supported by such vulgar Ceremonies. He visits +often enough that loves constantly. + +_Ge._ A Mischief take those Incumbrances that have depriv'd us of your +Company. I can't tell what to wish for bad enough to those Affairs that +have envy'd us the Company of so good a Friend. A Mischief take that +Fever that hath tormented us so long with the Want of you. I wish that +Fever may perish, so thou thyself wert but safe. + + * * * * * + +_Of Commanding and Promising._ + +_JAMES, SAPIDUS._ + +_Ja._ I pray you take a special Care of this Matter. I earnestly intreat +you to take Care of this Affair. If you have any Respect for me, pray +manage this Affair diligently. Pray be very careful in this Affair. Pray +take a great Deal of Care about this Business for my Sake. If you are +indeed the Man I always took you to be, let me see in this Concern what +Esteem you have for me. + +_Sa._ Say no more, I'll dispatch this Affair for you, and that very +shortly too. I can't indeed warrant you what the Event shall be, but +this I promise you, that neither Fidelity nor Industry shall be wanting +in me. I will take more Care of it than if it were mine own Affair; tho' +indeed that which is my Friend's I account as my own. I will so manage +the Affair, that whatever is wanting, Care and Diligence shall not be +wanting. Take you no Care about the Matter, I'll do it for you. Do you +be easy, I'll take the Management of it upon myself. I am glad to have +an Opportunity put into my Hand of shewing you my Respect. I do not +promise you in Words, but I will in Reality perform whatsoever is to be +expected from a real Friend, and one that heartily wishes you well. I +won't bring you into a Fool's Paradise. I'll do that which shall give +you Occasion to say you trusted the Affair to a Friend. + + * * * * * + +_Success._ + +_Sa._ The Matter succeeded better than I could have expected. Fortune +has favour'd both our Wishes. If Fortune had been your Wife she could +not have been more observant to you. Your Affair went on bravely with +Wind and Tide. Fortune has out-done our very Wishes. You must needs be a +Favourite of Fortune, to whom all Things fall out just as you would have +them. I have obtain'd more than I could presume to wish for. This +Journey has been perform'd from Beginning to End with all the fortunate +Circumstances imaginable. The whole Affair has fallen out according to +our Wish. This Chance fell out happily for us. I think we have been +lucky to Admiration, that what has been so imprudently enterpriz'd, has +so happily succeeded. + + * * * * * + +_A giving one Thanks._ + +_Ja._ Indeed I thank you, and shall thank you heartily as long as I live +for that good Service you have done me. I can scarce give you the Thanks +you deserve, and shall never be able to make you Amends. I see how much +I am oblig'd to you for your Kindness to me. Indeed I don't wonder at +it, for it is no new Thing, and in that I am the more oblig'd to you. My +_Sapidus_ I do, and it is my Duty to love you heartily for your Kindness +to me. In as much as in this Affair you have not acted the Part of a +Courtier, I do, and always shall thank you. I respect you, and thank +you, that you made my Affair your Care. You have oblig'd me very much by +that Kindness of yours. It is a great Obligation upon me that you have +manag'd my Concern with Fidelity. Of all your Kindnesses, which are +indeed a great many, you have shew'd me none has oblig'd me more than +this. I cannot possibly make you a Return according to your Merit Too +much Ceremony between you and I is unnecessary, but that which is in my +Power I'll do. I'll be thankful as long as I live. I confess myself +highly oblig'd to you for your good Service. For this Kindness I owe you +more than I am able to pay. By this good Office you have attach'd me to +you so firmly, that I can never be able to disengage myself. You have +laid me under so many and great Obligations, that I shall never be able +to get out of your Debt. No Slave was ever so engag'd in Duty to his +Master as you have engag'd me by this Office. You have by this good Turn +brought me more into your Debt than ever I shall be able to pay. I am +oblig'd to you upon many Accounts, but upon none more than upon this. +Thanks are due for common Kindness, but this is beyond the Power of +Thanks to retaliate. + + * * * * * + +_The Answer._ + +_Sa._ Forbear these Compliments, the Friendship between you and I is +greater than that we should thank one another for any Service done. I +have not bestow'd this Kindness upon you, but only made a Return of it +to you. I think the Amends is sufficiently made, if my most sedulous +Endeavours are acceptable to you. There is no Reason you should thank me +for repaying this small Kindness, for those uncommon Kindnesses I have +so often receiv'd from you. Indeed I merit no Praise, but should have +been the most ungrateful Man in the World if I had been wanting to my +Friend. Whatsoever I have, and whatsoever I can do, you may call as +much your own as any Thing that you have the best Title to. I look upon +it as a Favour that you take my Service kindly. You pay so great an +Acknowledgment to me for so small a Kindness, as tho' I did not owe you +much greater. He serves himself that serves his Friend. He that serves a +Friend does not give away his Service, but puts it out to Interest. If +you approve of my Service, pray make frequent Use of it; then I shall +think my Service is acceptable, if as often as you have Occasion for it +you would not request but command it. + + + + +_OF RASH VOWS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats chiefly of three Things, 1. Of the + superstitious Pilgrimages of some Persons to_ Jerusalem, + _and other holy Places, under Pretence of Devotion. 2. + That Vows are not to be made rashly over a Pot of Ale: + but that Time, Expence and Pains ought to be employ d + otherwise, in such Matters as have a real Tendency to + promote trite Piety. 3. Of the Insignificancy and + Absurdity of Popish Indulgencies_. + + +ARNOLDUS, CORNELIUS. + +_ARNOLDUS._ O! _Cornelius_, well met heartily, you have been lost this +hundred Years. + +_Co._ What my old Companion _Arnoldus_, the Man I long'd to see most of +any Man in the World! God save you. + +_Ar._ We all gave thee over for lost. But prithee where hast been +rambling all this While? + +_Co._ In t'other World. + +_Ar._ Why truly a Body would think so by thy slovenly Dress, lean +Carcase, and ghastly Phyz. + +_Co._ Well, but I am just come from _Jerusalem_, not from the _Stygian_ +Shades. + +_Ar._ What Wind blew thee thither? + +_Co._ What Wind blows a great many other Folks thither? + +_Ar._ Why Folly, or else I am mistaken. + +_Co._ However, I am not the only Fool in the World. + +_Ar._ What did you hunt after there? + +_Co._ Why Misery. + +_Ar._ You might have found that nearer Home. But did you meet with any +Thing worth seeing there? + +_Co._ Why truly, to speak ingenuously, little or nothing. They shew us +some certain Monuments of Antiquity, which I look upon to be most of 'em +Counterfeits, and meer Contrivances to bubble the Simple and Credulous. +I don't think they know precisely the Place that _Jerusalem_ anciently +stood in. + +_Ar._ What did you see then? + +_Co._ A great deal of Barbarity every where. + +_Ar._ But I hope you are come back more holy than you went. + +_Co._ No indeed, rather ten Times worse. + +_Ar._ Well, but then you are richer? + +_Co._ Nay, rather poorer than _Job_. + +_Ar._ But don't you repent you have taken so long a Journey to so little +Purpose? + +_Co._ No, nor I am not asham'd neither, I have so many Companions of my +Folly to keep me in Countenance; and as for Repentance, it's too late +now. + +_Ar._ What! do you get no Good then by so dangerous a Voyage? + +_Co._ Yes, a great Deal. + +_Ar._ What is it? + +_Co._ Why, I shall live more pleasantly for it for Time to come. + +_Ar._ What, because you'll have the Pleasure of telling old Stories when +the Danger is over? + +_Co._ That is something indeed, but that is not all. + +_Ar._ Is there any other Advantage in it besides that? + +_Co._ Yes, there is. + +_Ar._ What is it? Pray tell me. + +_Co._ Why, I can divert myself and Company, as oft as I have a Mind to +it, in romancing upon my Adventures over a Pot of Ale, or a good Dinner. + +_Ar._ Why, truly that is something, as you say. + +_Co._ And besides, I shall take as much Pleasure myself when I hear +others romancing about Things they never heard nor saw; nay, and that +they do with that Assurance, that when they are telling the most +ridiculous and impossible Things in Nature, they persuade themselves +they are speaking Truth all the While. + +_Ar._ This is a wonderful Pleasure. Well then, you have not lost all +your Cost and Labour, as the Saying is. + +_Co._ Nay, I think this is something better still than what they do, +who, for the sake of little Advance-money, list themselves for Soldiers +in the Army, which is the Nursery of all Impiety. + +_Ar._ But it is an ungentleman-like Thing to take Delight in telling +Lies. + +_Co._ But it is a little more like a Gentleman than either to delight +others, or be delighted in slandering other Persons, or lavishing away a +Man's Time or Substance in Gaming. + +_Ar._ Indeed I must be of your Mind in that. + +_Co._ But then there is another Advantage. + +_Ar._ What is that? + +_Co._ If there shall be any Friend that I love very well, who shall +happen to be tainted with this Phrensy, I will advise him to stay at +Home; as your Mariners that have been cast away, advise them that are +going to Sea, to steer clear of the Place where they miscarried. + +_Ar._ I wish you had been my Moniter in Time. + +_Co._ What Man! Have you been infected with this Disease too? + +_Ar._ Yes, I have been at _Rome_ and _Compostella_. + +_Co._ Good God! how I am pleas'd that you have been as great a Fool as +I! What _Pallas_ put that into your Head? + +_Ar._ No _Pallas_, but _Moria_ rather, especially when I left at Home a +handsome young Wife, several Children, and a Family, who had nothing in +the World to depend upon for a Maintenance but my daily Labour. + +_Co._ Sure it must be some important Reason that drew you away from all +these engaging Relations. Prithee tell me what it was. + +_Ar._ I am asham'd to tell it. + +_Co._ You need not be asham'd to tell me, who, you know, have been sick +of the same Distemper. + +_Ar._ There was a Knot of Neighbours of us drinking together, and when +the Wine began to work in our Noddles, one said he had a Mind to make a +Visit to St. _James_, and another to St. _Peter_; presently there was +one or two that promis'd to go with them, till at last it was concluded +upon to go all together; and I, that I might not seem a disagreeable +Companion, rather than break good Company, promised to go too. The next +Question was, whether we should go to _Rome_ or _Compostella_? Upon the +Debate it was determin'd that we should all, God willing, set out the +next Day for both Places. + +_Co._ A grave Decree, fitter to be writ in Wine than engrav'd in Brass. + +_Ar._ Presently a Bumper was put about to our good Journey, which when +every Man had taken off in his Turn, the Vote passed into an Act, and +became inviolable. + +_Co._ A new Religion! But did you all come safe back? + +_Ar._ All but three, one dy'd by the Way, and gave us in Charge to give +his humble Service to _Peter_ and _James_; another dy'd at _Rome_, who +bad us remember him to his Wife and Children; and the third we left at +_Florence_ dangerously ill, and I believe he is in Heaven before now. + +_Co._ Was he so good a Man then? + +_Ar._ The veriest Droll in Nature. + +_Co._ Why do you think he is in Heaven then? + +_Ar._ Because he had a whole Satchel full of large Indulgencies. + +_Co._ I understand you, but it is a long Way to Heaven, and a very +dangerous one too, as I am told, by reason of the little Thieves that +infest the middle Region of the Air. + +_Ar._ That's true, but he was well fortify'd with Bulls. + +_Co._ What Language were they written in? + +_Ar._ In _Latin_. + +_Co._ And will they secure him? + +_Ar._ Yes, unless he should happen upon some Spirit that does not +understand _Latin_, in that Case he must go back to _Rome_, and get a +new Passport. + +_Co._ Do they sell Bulls there to dead Men too? + +_Ar._ Yes. + +_Co._ But by the Way, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, for +now there are a great many Spies abroad. + +_Ar._ I don't speak slightingly of Indulgencies themselves, but I laugh +at the Folly of my fuddling Companion, who tho' he was the greatest +Trifler that ever was born, yet chose rather to venture the whole Stress +of his Salvation upon a Skin of Parchment than upon the Amendment of his +Life. But when shall we have that merry Bout you spoke of just now? + +_Co._ When Opportunity offers we'll set a Time for a small Collation, +and invite some of our Comrades, there we will tell Lies, who can lye +fastest, and divert one another with Lies till we have our Bellies full. + +_Ar._ Come on, a Match. + + + + +_OF BENEFICE-HUNTERS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _In this Colloquy those Persons are reprehended that run + to and again to_ Rome _hunting after Benefices, and that + oftentimes with the Hazard of the Corruption of their + Morals, and the Loss of their Money. The Clergy are + admonished to divert themselves with reading of good + Books, rather than with a Concubine. Jocular Discourse + concerning a long Nose_. + + +PAMPHAGUS, COCLES. + +_PAM._ Either my Sight fails me, or this is my old Pot-Companion +_Cocles_. + +_Co._ No, no, your Eyes don't deceive you at all, you see a Companion +that is yours heartily. Nobody ever thought to have seen you again, you +have been gone so many Years, and no Body knew what was become of you. +But whence come you from? Prithee tell me. + +_Pa._ From the _Antipodes_. + +_Co._ Nay, but I believe you are come from the fortunate Islands. + +_Pa._ I am glad you know your old Companion, I was afraid I should come +home as _Ulysses_ did. + +_Co._ Why pray? After what Manner did he come Home? + +_Pa._ His own Wife did not know him; only his Dog, being grown very old, +acknowledg'd his Master, by wagging his Tail. + +_Co._ How many Years was he from Home? + +_Pa._ Twenty. + +_Co._ You have been absent more than twenty Years, and yet I knew your +Face again. But who tells that Story of _Ulysses_? + +_Pa._ _Homer._ + +_Co._ He? They say he's the Father of all fabulous Stories. It may be +his Wife had gotten herself a Gallant in the mean time, and therefore +did not know her own _Ulysses_. + +_Pa._ No, nothing of that, she was one of the chastest Women in the +World. But _Pallas_ had made _Ulysses_ look old, that he might not be +known. + +_Co._ How came he to be known at last? + +_Pa._ By a little Wart that he had upon one of his Toes. His Nurse, who +was now a very old Woman, took Notice of that as she was washing his +Feet. + +_Co._ A curious old Hagg. Well then, do you admire that I know you that +have so remarkable a Nose. + +_Pa._ I am not at all sorry for this Nose. + +_Co._ No, nor have you any Occasion to be sorry for having a Thing that +is fit for so many Uses. + +_Pa._ For what Uses? + +_Co._ First of all, it will serve instead of an Extinguisher, to put out +Candles. + +_Pa._ Go on. + +_Co._ Again, if you want to draw any Thing out of a deep Pit, it will +serve instead of an Elephant's Trunk. + +_Pa._ O wonderful. + +_Co._ If your Hands be employ'd, it will serve instead of a Pin. + +_Pa._ Is it good for any Thing else? + +_Co._ If you have no Bellows, it will serve to blow the Fire. + +_Pa._ This is very pretty; have you any more of it? + +_Co._ If the Light offends you when you are writing, it will serve for +an Umbrella. + +_Pa._ Ha, ha, ha! Have you any Thing more to say? + +_Co._ In a Sea-fight it will serve for a Grappling-hook. + +_Pa._ What will it serve for in a Land-fight? + +_Co._ Instead of a Shield. + +_Pa._ And what else? + +_Co._ It will serve for a Wedge to cleave Wood withal. + +_Pa._ Well said. + +_Co._ If you act the Part of a Herald, it will be for a Trumpet; if you +sound an Alarm, a Horn; if you dig, a Spade; if you reap, a Sickle; if +you go to Sea, an Anchor; in the Kitchen it will serve for a Flesh-hook; +and in Fishing a Fish-hook. + +_Pa._ I am a happy Fellow indeed, I did not know I carry'd about me a +Piece of Houshold Stuff that would serve for so many Uses. + +_Co._ But in the mean Time, in what Corner of the Earth have you hid +yourself all this While? + +_Pa._ In _Rome_. + +_Co._ But is it possible that in so publick a Place no Body should know +you were alive? + +_Pa._ Good Men are no where in the World so much _incognito_ as there, +so that in the brightest Day you shall scarce see one in a throng'd +Market. + +_Co._ Well, but then you're come home loaden with Benefices. + +_Pa._ Indeed I hunted after them diligently, but I had no Success; for +the Way of Fishing there is according to the Proverb, with a golden +Hook. + +_Co._ That's a foolish Way of Fishing. + +_Pa._ No Matter for that, some Folks find it a very good Way. + +_Co._ Are they not the greatest Fools in Nature that change Gold for +Lead? + +_Pa._ But don't you know that there are Veins of Gold in holy Lead? + +_Co._ What then! Are you come back nothing but a _Pamphagus_? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Co._ What then, pray? + +_Pa._ A ravenous Wolf. + +_Co._ But they make a better Voyage of it, that return laden with +Budgets full of Benefices. Why had you rather have a Benefice than a +Wife? + +_Pa._ Because I love to live at Ease. I love to live a pleasant Life. + +_Co._ But in my Opinion they live the most pleasant Life that have at +Home a pretty Girl, that they may embrace as often as they have a Mind +to it. + +_Pa._ And you may add this to it, sometimes when they have no Mind to +it. I love a continual Pleasure; he that marries a Wife is happy for a +Month, but he that gets a fat Benefice lives merrily all his Life. + +_Co._ But Solitude is so melancholy a Life, that _Adam_, in _Paradise_ +could not have liv'd happily unless God had given him an _Eve_. + +_Pa._ He'll ne'er need to want an _Eve_ that has gotten a good Benefice. + +_Co._ But that Pleasure can't really be call'd Pleasure that carries an +ill Name and bad Conscience with it. + +_Pa._ You say true, and therefore I design to divert the Tediousness of +Solitude by a Conversation with Books. + +_Co._ They are the pleasantest Companions in the World. But do you +intend to return to your Fishing again? + +_Pa._ Yes, I would, if I could get a fresh Bait. + +_Co._ Would you have a golden one or a silver one? + +_Pa._ Either of them. + +_Co._ Be of good Cheer, your Father will supply you. + +_Pa._ He'll part with nothing; and especially he'll not trust me again, +when he comes to understand I have spent what I had to no Purpose. + +_Co._ That's the Chance of the Dice. + +_Pa._ But he don't like those Dice. + +_Co._ If he shall absolutely deny you, I'll shew you where you may have +as much as you please. + +_Pa._ You tell me good News indeed, come shew it me, my Heart leaps for +Joy. + +_Co._ It is here hard by. + +_Pa._ Why, have you gotten a Treasure? + +_Co._ If I had, I would have it for myself, not for you. + +_Pa._ If I could but get together 100 Ducats I should be in Hopes again. + +_Co._ I'll shew you where you may have 100,000. + +_Pa._ Prithee put me out of my Pain then, and do not teaze me to Death. +Tell me where I may have it. + +_Co._ From the _Asse Budæi_, there you may find a great many Ten +Thousands, whether you'd have it Gold or Silver. + +_Pa._ Go and be hang'd with your Banter, I'll pay you what I owe you out +of that Bank. + +_Co._ Ay, so you shall, but it shall be what I lend you out of it. + +_Pa._ I know your waggish Tricks well enough. + +_Co._ I'm not to be compar'd to you for that. + +_Pa._ Nay, you are the veriest Wag in Nature, you are nothing but +Waggery; you make a Jest of a serious Matter. In this Affair it is far +easier Matter to teaze me than it is to please me. The Matter is of too +great a Consequence to be made a Jest on. If you were in my Case you +would not be so gamesome; you make a mere Game of me; you game and +banter me. You joke upon me in a Thing that is not a joking Matter. + +_Co._ I don't jeer you, I speak what I think. Indeed I do not laugh, I +speak my Mind. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +sincerely. I speak the Truth. + +_Pa._ So may your Cap stand always upon your Head, as you speak +sincerely. But do I stand loitering here, and make no haste Home to see +how all Things go there? + +_Co._ You'll find a great many Things new. + +_Pa._ I believe I shall; but I wish I may find all Things as I would +have them. + +_Co._ We may all wish so if we will, but never any Body found it so yet. + + +_Pa._ Our Rambles will do us both this Good, that we shall like Home the +better for Time to come. + +_Co._ I can't tell that, for I have seen some that have play'd the same +Game over and over again; if once this Infection seizes a Person he +seldom gets rid of it. + + + + +_OF A SOLDIER'S LIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The wicked Life of Soldiers is here reprehended, and + shewn to be very miserable: That War is Confusion, and a + Sink of all manner of Vices, in as much as in it there is + no Distinction made betwixt Things sacred and profane. + The Hope of Plunder allures many to become Soldiers. The + Impieties of a Military Life are here laid open, by this + Confession of a Soldier, that Youth may be put out of + Conceit of going into the Army._ + + +HANNO, THRASYMACHUS. + +_Hanno._ How comes it about that you that went away a _Mercury_, come +back a _Vulcan_? + +_Thr._ What do you talk to me of your _Mercuries_ and your _Vulcans_ +for? + +_Ha._ Because you seem'd to be ready to fly when you went away, but +you're come limping Home. + +_Thr._ I'm come back like a Soldier then. + +_Ha._ You a Soldier, that would out-run a Stag if an Enemy were at your +Heels. + +_Thr._ The Hope of Booty made me valiant. + +_Ha._ Well, have you brought Home a good Deal of Plunder then? + +_Thr._ Empty Pockets. + +_Ha._ Then you were the lighter for travelling. + +_Thr._ But I was heavy loaden with Sin. + +_Ha._ That's heavy Luggage indeed, if the Prophet says right, who calls +Sin Lead. + +_Thr._ I have seen and had a Hand in more Villanies this Campaign than +in the whole Course of my Life before. + +_Ha._ How do you like a Soldier's Life? + +_Thr._ There is no Course of Life in the. World more wicked or more +wretched. + +_Ha._ What then must be in the Minds of those People, that for the Sake +of a little Money, and some out of Curiosity, make as much Haste to a +Battel as to a Banquet? + +_Thr._ In Truth, I can think no other but they are possess'd; for if the +Devil were not in them they would never anticipate their Fate. + +_Ha._ So one would think, for if you'd put 'em upon any honest Business, +they'll scarce stir a Foot in it for any Money. But tell me, how went +the Battel? Who got the better on't? + +_Thr._ There was such a Hallooing, Hurly-burly, Noise of Guns, Trumpets +and Drums, Neighing of Horses, and Shouting of Men, that I was so far +from knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I was +myself. + +_Ha._ How comes it about then that others, after a Fight is over, do +paint you out every Circumstance so to the Life, and tell you what such +an Officer said, and what t'other did, as tho' they had been nothing but +Lookers on all the Time, and had been every where at the same Time? + +_Thr._ It is my Opinion that they lye confoundedly. I can tell you what +was done in my own Tent, but as to what was done in the Battel, I know +nothing at all of that. + +_Ha._ Don't you know how you came to be lame neither? + +_Thr._ Scarce that upon my Honour, but I suppose my Knee was hurt by a +Stone, or a Horse-heel, or so. + +_Ha._ Well, but I can tell you. + +_Thr._ You tell me? Why, has any Body told you? + +_Ha._ No, but I guess. + +_Thr._ Tell me then. + +_Ha._ When you were running away in a Fright, you fell down and hit it +against a Stone. + +_Thr._ Let me die if you han't hit the Nail on the Head. + +_Ha._ Go, get you Home, and tell your Wife of your Exploits. + +_Thr._ She'll read me a Juniper-Lecture for coming Home in such a +Pickle. + +_Ha._ But what Restitution will you make for what you have stolen? + +_Thr._ That's made already. + +_Ha._ To whom? + +_Thr._ Why, to Whores, Sutlers, and Gamesters. + +_Ha._ That's like a Soldier for all the World, it's but just that what's +got over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly. + +_Ha._ But I hope you have kept your Fingers all this While from +Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ There's nothing sacred in Hostility, there we neither spare +private Houses nor Churches. + +_Ha._ How will you make Satisfaction? + +_Thr._ They say there is no Satisfaction to be made for what is done in +War, for all Things are lawful there. + +_Ha._ You mean by the Law of Arms, I suppose? + +_Thr._ You are right. + +_Ha._ But that Law is the highest Injustice. It was not the Love of your +Country, but the Love of Booty that made you a Soldier. + +_Thr._ I confess so, and I believe very few go into the Army with any +better Design. + +_Ha._ It is indeed some Excuse to be mad with the greater Part of +Mankind. + +_Thr._ I have heard a Parson say in his Pulpit that War was lawful. + +_Ha._ Pulpits indeed are the Oracles of Truth. But War may be lawful for +a Prince, and yet not so for you. + +_Thr._ I have heard that every Man must live by his Trade. + +_Ha._ A very honourable Trade indeed to burn Houses, rob Churches, +ravish Nuns, plunder the Poor, and murder the Innocent! + +_Thr._ Butchers are hired to kill Beasts; and why is our Trade found +Fault with who are hired to kill Men? + +_Ha._ But was you never thoughtful what should become of your Soul if +you happen'd to be kill'd in the Battel? + +_Thr._ Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my Mind, having once +for all commended myself to St. _Barbara_. + +_Ha._ And did she take you under her Protection? + +_Thr._ I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little Nod. + +_Ha._ What Time was it? In the Morning? + +_Thr._ No, no, 'twas after Supper. + +_Ha._ And by that Time I suppose the Trees seem'd to walk too? + +_Thr._ How this Man guesses every Thing! But St. _Christopher_ was the +Saint I most depended on, whose Picture I had always in my Eye. + +_Ha._ What in your Tent? + +_Thr._ We had drawn him with Charcoal upon our Sail-cloth. + +_Thr._ Then to be sure that _Christopher_ the Collier was a sure Card to +trust to? But without jesting, I don't see how you can expect to be +forgiven all these Villanies, unless you go to _Rome_. + +_Thr._ Yes, I can, I know a shorter Way than that. + +_Ha._ What Way is that? + +_Thr._ I'll go to the _Dominicans_, and there I can do my Business with +the Commissaries for a Trifle. + +_Ha._ What, for Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ Ay, if I had robb'd Christ himself, and cut off his Head +afterwards, they have Pardons would reach it, and Commissions large +enough to compound for it. + +_Ha._ That is well indeed, if God should ratify your Composition. + +_Thr._ Nay, I am rather afraid the Devil should not ratify it; God is of +a forgiving Nature. + +_Ha._ What Priest will you get you? + +_Thr._ One that I know has but little Modesty or Honesty. + +_Ha._ Like to like. And when that's over, you'll go strait away to the +Communion, like a good Christian, will you not? + +_Thr._ Why should I not? For after I have once discharg'd the Jakes of +my Sins into his Cowl, and unburden'd myself of my Luggage, let him look +to it that absolv'd me. + +_Ha._ But how can you be sure that he does absolve you? + +_Thr._ I know that well enough. + +_Ha._ How do you know it? + +_Thr._ Because he lays his Hand upon my Head and mutters over something, +I don't know what. + +_Ha._ What if he should give you all your Sins again when he lays his +Hand upon your Head, and these should be the Words he mutters to +himself? _I absolve thee from all thy good Deeds, of which I find few or +none in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted Manners, and leave thee just +as I found thee_. + +_Thr._ Let him look to what he says, it is enough for me that I believe +I am absolv'd. + +_Ha._ But you run a great Hazard by that Belief, for perhaps that will +not be Satisfaction to God, to whom thou art indebted. + +_Thr._ Who a Mischief put you in my Way to disturb my Conscience, which +was very quiet before? + +_Ha._ Nay, I think it is a very happy Encounter to meet a Friend that +gives good Advice. + +_Thr._ I can't tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not very +pleasant. + + + + +_The COMMANDS OF A MASTER._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of the Commands of a Master, and + the Business of a Servant, 1. The Master calls up his + sleepy Servant, commands him to set the House to rights; + the Servant answers again, that he speaks not a Word + about Dinner, &c. 2. Of sending him on various Errands. + 3. Concerning Riding_. + + +1. _Of calling up the Sleeper._ + + +RABANUS, SYRUS. + +_RA._ Soho, soho, Rascal, I am hoarse a bawling to you, and you lye +snoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; either +get up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will you +have slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepy +Sot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon as +it is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Master +rises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Hour +a scratching, and stretching, and yawning. + +_Sy._ It is scarce Day yet. + +_Ra._ I believe not to you; it is Midnight yet to your Eyes. + +_Sy._ What do you want me to do? + +_Ra._ Make the Fire burn, brush my Cap and Cloke, clean my Shoes and +Galloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush them +well, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweeten +the Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before a +clear Fire. + +_Sy._ It shall be done Sir. + +_Ra._ But make Haste then, all this ought to have been done before now. + +_Sy._ I do make Haste Sir. + +_Ra._ I see what Haste you make, you are never the forwarder, you go a +Snail's Gallop. + +_Sy._ Sir, I cannot do two Things at once. + +_Ra._ You Scoundrel, do you speak Sentences too? Take away the +Chamber-Pot, lay the Bed-Clothes to Rights, draw back the Curtains, +sweep the House, sweep the Chamber-floor, fetch me some Water to wash my +Hands. What are you a sliving about you Drone? You are a Year a lighting +a Candle. + +_Sy._ I can't find a Spark of Fire. + +_Ra._ Is it so you rak'd it up last Night? + +_Sy._ I have no Bellows. + +_Ra._ How the Knave thwarts me, as if he that has you can want Bellows. + +_Sy._ What an imperious Master have I gotten! Ten of the nimblest +Fellows in the World are scarce sufficient to perform his Orders. + +_Ra._ What's that you say you slow-Back? + +_Sy._ Nothing at all, Sir. + +_Ra._ No, Sirrah, did I not hear you mutter? + +_Sy._ I was saying my Prayers. + +_Ra._ Ay, I believe so, but it was the Lord's-Prayer backwards then. +Pray, what was that you were chattering about Imperiousness? + +_Sy._ I was wishing you might be an Emperor. + +_Ra._ And I wish you may be made a Man of a Stump of a Tree. Wait upon +me to Church, and then run Home and make the Bed, and put every Thing in +its Place; let the House be set to Rights from Top to Bottom, rub the +Chamber-Pot, put these foul Things out of Sight, perhaps I may have +some Gentry come to pay me a Visit; if I find any Thing out of Order +I'll thresh you soundly. + +_Sy._ I know your good Humour well enough in that Matter. + +_Ra._ Then it behoves you to look about you, if you are wise. + +_Sy._ But all this while here is not one Word about Dinner. + +_Ra._ Out you Villain, one may see what your Mind runs on. I don't dine +at Home, therefore come to me a little before Ten a-Clock, that you may +wait upon me where I am to go to Dinner. + +_Sy._ You have taken Care of yourself, but there is not a Bit of Bread +for me to put into my Head. + +_Ra._ If you have nothing to eat, you have something to hunger after. + +_Sy._ But Fasting won't fill the Belly. + +_Ra._ There is Bread for you. + +_Sy._ There is so, but it is as black as my Hat, and as coarse as the +Bran itself. + +_Ra._ You dainty chap'd Fellow, you ought to be fed with Hay, if you had +such Commons as you deserve. What, I warrant you, Mr. Ass, you must be +fed with Plumb Cakes, must you? If you can't eat dry Bread, take a Leek +to eat with it, or an Onion, if you like that better. + + * * * * * + +_2. Of sending about various Businesses._ + +_Ra._ You must go to Market. + +_Sy._ What, so far? + +_Ra._ It is not a Stone's Throw off, but it seems two Miles to such an +idle Fellow as you; but however, I'll save you as much Labour as I can, +you shall dispatch several Businesses in one Errand; count 'em upon your +Fingers, that mayn't forget any of 'em: First of all step to the +Salesman, and bring my water'd Camblet Doublet if it be done; then go +and enquire for _Cornelius_ the Waggoner, he's commonly at the Sign of +the _Roe-buck_, he uses that House, ask him if he has any Letters for +me, and what Day he sets out on his Journey; then go to the Woollen +Draper, and tell him from me, not to be uneasy, that I have not sent him +the Money at the Time appointed, for he shall have it in a very little +Time. + +_Sy._ When? To morrow come never? + +_Ra._ Do you grin you Pimp? Yes, before the first of _March_: And as you +come back, turn on the Left-hand, and go to the Bookseller, and enquire +of him, if there be any new Books come out of _Germany_, learn what they +are, and the Price of them; then desire _Goclenius_, to do me the Honour +to come to Supper with me, tell him I must sup by myself if he don't. + +_Sy._ What do you invite Guests too? You han't Victuals enough in the +House to give a Mouse a Meal. + +_Ra._ And when you have done all these, go to the Market, and buy a +Shoulder of Mutton, and get it nicely roasted: Do you hear this? + +_Sy._ I hear more than I like to hear. + +_Ra._ But take you Care you remember 'em all. + +_Sy._ I shall scarce be able to remember half of 'em. + +_Ra._ What do you stand loytering here, you idle Knave? You might have +been back before now. + +_Sy._ What one Person in the World can do all these? Truly I must wait +upon him out, and attend upon him home; I'm his Swabber, his +Chamberlain, his Footman, his Clerk, his Butler, his Book-keeper, his +Brawl, his Errand-boy, and last of all he does not think I have Business +enough upon my Hands, unless I am his Cook too. + + * * * * * + +_3. Concerning Riding._ + +_Ra._ Bring me my Boots, I am to ride out. + +_Sy._ Here they are, Sir. + +_Ra._ You have look'd after them bravely, they are all over mouldy with +lying by; I believe they han't been clean'd nor greased this twelve +Months Day; they are so dry, they chap again; wipe them with a wet +Cloth, and liquor them well before the Fire, and chafe them till they +grow soft. + +_Sy._ It shall be done, Sir. + +_Ra._ Where are my Spurs? + +_Sy._ Here they are. + +_Ra._ Ay, here they are indeed, but all eaten up with Rust. Where is my +Bridle and Saddle? + +_Sy._ They are just by. + +_Ra._ See that nothing is wanting or broken, or ready to break, that +nothing may be a Hinderance to us, when we are upon our Journey. Run to +the Sadlers, and get him to mend that Rein: When you come back, look +upon the Horses Feet, and Shoes, and see if there be any Nails wanting, +or loose. How lean and rough these Horses are! How often do you rub 'em +down, or kemb them in a Year? + +_Sy._ I'm sure I do it every Day? + +_Ra._ That may be seen, I believe they have not had a bit of Victuals +for three Days together. + +_Sy._ Indeed they have, Sir. + +_Ra._ You say so, but the Horses would tell me another Tale, if they +could but speak: Though indeed their Leanness speaks loud enough. + +_Sy._ Indeed I take all the Care in the World of 'em. + +_Ra._ How comes it about then, that they don't look as well as you do? + +_Sy._ Because I don't eat Hay. + +_Ra._ You have this to do still; make ready my Portmanteau quickly. + +_Sy._ It shall be done. + + + + +_The SCHOOL-MASTER'S ADMONITIONS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The School-master's Instructions teach a Boy Modesty, + Civility, and Manners becoming his Age, in what Posture + he ought to stand while he talks to his Superiors; + concerning Habit, Discourse, and Behaviour at Table and + in School._ + + +_The School-master and Boy._ + +_Sch._ You seem not to have been bred at Court, but in a Cow-stall; you +behave yourself so clownishly. A Gentleman ought to behave himself like +a Gentleman. As often or whenever any one that is your Superior speaks +to you, stand strait, pull off your Hat, and look neither doggedly, +surlily, saucily, malapertly, nor unsettledly, but with a staid, modest, +pleasant Air in your Countenance, and a bashful Look fix'd upon the +Person who speaks to you; your Feet set close one by t'other; your Hands +without Action: Don't stand titter, totter, first standing upon one +Foot, and then upon another, nor playing with your Fingers, biting your +Lip, scratching your Head, or picking your Ears: Let your Cloaths be put +on tight and neat, that your whole Dress, Air, Motion and Habit, may +bespeak a modest and bashful Temper. + +_Bo._ What if I shall try, Sir? + +_Ma._ Do so. + +_Bo._ Is this right? + +_Ma._ Not quite. + +_Bo._ Must I do so? + +_Ma._ That's pretty well. + +_Bo._ Must I stand so? + +_Ma._ Ay, that's very well, remember that Posture; don't be a Prittle +prattle, nor Prate apace, nor be a minding any Thing but what is said to +you. If you are to make an Answer, do it in few Words, and to the +Purpose, every now and then prefacing with some Title of Respect, and +sometimes use a Title of Honour, and now and then make a Bow, especially +when you have done speaking: Nor do you go away without asking Leave, or +being bid to go: Now come let me see how you can practise this. How long +have you been from Home? + +_Bo._ Almost six Months. + +_Ma._ You should have said, Sir. + +_Bo._ Almost six Months, Sir. + +_Ma._ Don't you long to see your Mother? + +_Bo._ Yes, sometimes. + +_Ma._ Have you a Mind to go to see her? + +_Bo._ Yes, with your Leave, Sir. + +_Ma._ Now you should have made a Bow; that's very well, remember to do +so; when you speak, don't speak fast, stammer, or speak in your Throat, +but use yourself to pronounce your Words distinctly and clearly. If you +pass by any ancient Person, a Magistrate, a Minister, or Doctor, or any +Person of Figure, be sure to pull off your Hat, and make your Reverence: +Do the same when you pass by any sacred Place, or the Image of the +Cross. When you are at a Feast, behave yourself chearfully, but always +so as to remember what becomes your Age: Serve yourself last; and if any +nice Bit be offer'd you, refuse it modestly; but if they press it upon +you, take it, and thank the Person, and cutting off a Bit of it, offer +the rest either to him that gave it you, or to him that sits next to +you. If any Body drinks to you merrily, thank him, and drink moderately. +If you don't care to drink, however, kiss the Cup. Look pleasantly upon +him that speaks to you; and be sure not to speak till you are spoken to. +If any Thing that is obscene be said, don't laugh at it, but keep your +Countenance, as though you did not understand it; don't reflect on any +Body, nor take place of any Body, nor boast of any Thing of your own, +nor undervalue any Thing of another Bodies. Be courteous to your +Companions that are your Inferiors; traduce no Body; don't be a Blab +with your Tongue, and by this Means you'll get a good Character, and +gain Friends without Envy. If the Entertainment shall be long, desire to +be excus'd, bid much good may it do the Guests, and withdraw from Table: +See that you remember these Things. + +_Bo._ I'll do my Endeavour, Sir. Is there any Thing else you'd have me +do? + +_Ma._ Now go to your Books. + +_Bo._ Yes, Sir. + + + + +_Of VARIOUS PLAYS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Boys sending_ Cocles _their Messenger to their + Master, get Leave to go to Play; who shews that moderate + Recreations are very necessary both for Mind and Body. + The Master admonishes them that they keep together at + Play, &c. 1. Of playing at Stool-ball: Of chusing + Partners. 2. Of playing at Bowls, the Orders of the + Bowling-Green. 3. Of playing at striking a Ball through + an Iron Ring. 4. Of Dancing, that they should not dance + presently after Dinner: Of playing at Leap-frog: Of + Running: Of Swimming._ + + +NICHOLAS, JEROME, COCLES, _the_ MASTER. + +_Nic._ I have had a great Mind a good While, and this fine Weather is a +great Invitation to go to Play. + +_Jer._ These indeed invite you, but the Master don't. + +_Nic._ We must get some Spokesman that may extort a Holiday from him. + +_Jer._ You did very well to say extort, for you may sooner wrest +_Hercules's_ Club out of his Hands than get a Play-day from him; but +Time was when Nobody lov'd Play better than he did. + +_Nic._ That is true, but he has forgot a great While ago since he was a +Boy himself; he is as ready and free at whipping as any Body, but as +sparing and backward at this as any Body in the World. + +_Jer._ We must pick out a Messenger that is not very bashful that won't +be presently dashed out of Countenance by his surly Words. + +_Nic._ Let who will go for me, I had rather go without Play than ask +him for it. + +_Jer._ There is Nobody fitter for this Business than _Cocles._ + +_Nic._ Nobody in the World, he has a good bold Face of his own, and +Tongue enough; and besides, he knows his Humour too. + +_Jer._ Go, _Cocles_, you will highly oblige us all. + +_Coc._ Well, I'll try; but if I do not succeed, do not lay the Fault on +your Spokesman. + +_Jer._ You promise well for it, I am out in my Opinion if you don't get +Leave. Go on Intreater, and return an Obtainer. + +_Coc._ I'll go, may _Mercury_ send me good Luck of my Errand. God save +you, Sir. + +_Ma._ What does this idle Pack want? + +_Coc._ Your Servant, Reverend Master. + +_Ma._ This is a treacherous Civility! I am well enough already. Tell me +what 'tis you came for. + +_Coc._ Your whole School beg a Play-day. + +_Ma._ You do nothing else but play, even without Leave. + +_Coc._ Your Wisdom knows that moderate Play quickens the Wit, as you +have taught us out of _Quintilian_. + +_Ma._ Very well, how well you can remember what's to your purpose? They +that labour hard, had need of some Relaxation: But you that study idly, +and play laboriously, had more need of a Curb, than a Snaffle. + +_Coc._ If any Thing has been wanting in Times past, we'll labour to make +it up by future Diligence. + +_Ma._ O rare Makers up! who will be Sureties for the performing this +Promise? + +_Coc._ I'll venture my Head upon it. + +_Ma._ Nay, rather venture your Tail. I know there is but little +Dependance upon your Word; but however, I'll try this Time what Credit +may be given to you; if you deceive me now, you shall never obtain any +Thing from me again. Let 'em play; but let them keep together in the +Field, don't let them go a tippling or worse Exercises, and see they +come Home betimes, before Sun set. + +_Coc._ We will, Sir, I have gotten Leave, but with much a do. + +_Jer._ O brave Lad! we all love you dearly. + +_Coc._ But we must be sure not to transgress our Orders, for if we do, +it will be all laid upon my Back; I have engaged for ye all, and if ye +do, I'll never be your Spokesman again. + +_Jer._ We'll take Care: But what Play do you like best? + +_Coc._ We'll talk of that when we come into the Fields. + + * * * * * + +I. _Of playing at Ball._ + +_NICHOLAS_ and _JEROME._ + +_Nic._ No Play is better to exercise all Parts of the Body than +Stool-ball; but that's fitter for Winter than Summer. + +_Jer._ There is no Time of the Year with us, but what's fit to play in. + +_Nic._ We shall sweat less, if we play at Tennis. + +_Jer._ Let's let Nets alone to Fishermen; it's prettier to catch it in +our Hands. + +_Nic._ Well, come on, I don't much Matter; but how much shall we play +for? + +_Nic._ But I had rather spare my Corps than my Money. + +_Jer._ And I value my Corps more than my Money: We must play for +something, or we shall never play our best. + +_Nic._ You say true. + +_Jer._ Which Hand soever shall get the first three Games, shall pay the +sixth Part of a Groat to the other; but upon Condition that what's won +shall be spent among all the Company alike. + +_Nic._ Well, I like the Proposal; come done, let's chuse Hands; but we +are all so equally match'd, that it's no great Matter who and who's +together. + +_Jer._ You play a great Deal better than I. + +_Nic._ But for all that, you have the better Luck. + +_Jer._ Has Fortune anything to do at this Play? + +_Nic._ She has to do everywhere. + +_Jer._ Well, come let's toss up. O Boys, very well indeed. I have got +the Partners I would have. + +_Nic._ And we like our Partners very well. + +_Jer._ Come on, now for't, he that will win, must look to his Game. Let +every one stand to his Place bravely. Do you stand behind me ready to +catch the Ball, if it goes beyond me; do you mind there, and beat it +back when it comes from our Adversaries. + +_Nic._ I'll warrant ye, I'll hit it if it comes near me. + +_Jer._ Go on and prosper, throw up the Ball upon the House. He that +throws and do's not speak first shall lose his Cast. + +_Nic._ Well, take it then. + +_Jer._ Do you toss it; if you throw it beyond the Bounds, or short, or +over the House, it shall go for nothing, and we won't be cheated: And +truly you throw nastily. As you toss it, I'll give it you again; I'll +give you _a Rowland for an Oliver_; but it is better to play fairly and +honestly. + +_Nic._ It is best at Diversion, to beat by fair Play. + +_Jer._ It is so, and in War too; these Arts have each their respective +Laws: There are some Arts that are very unfair ones. + +_Nic._ I believe so too, and more than seven too. Mark the Bounds with a +Shell, or Brick-bat, or with your Hat if you will. + +_Jer._ I'd rather do it with yours. + +_Nic._ Take the Ball again. + +_Jer._ Throw it; score it up. + +_Nic._ We have two good wide Goals. + +_Jer._ Pretty wide, but they are not out of Reach. + +_Nic._ They may be reach'd if no Body hinders it. + +_Jer._ O brave, I have gone beyond the first Goal. We are fifteen. Play +stoutly, we had got this too, if you had stood in your Place. Well, now +we are equal. + +_Nic._ But you shan't be so long. Well, we are thirty; we are forty +five. + +_Jer._ What, Sesterces? + +_Nic._ No. + +_Jer._ What then? + +_Nic._ Numbers. + +_Jer._ What signifies Numbers, if you have nothing to pay? + +_Nic._ We have gotten this Game. + +_Jer._ You are a little too hasty; _you reckon your Chickens before they +are hatch'd_. I have seen those lose the Game that have had so many for +Love. War and Play is a meer Lottery. We have got thirty, now we are +equal again. + +_Nic._ This is the Game Stroke. O brave! we have got the better of you. + +_Jer._ Well, but you shan't have it long; did I not say so? We are +equally fortunate. + +_Nic._ Fortune inclines first to one side, and then to t'other, as if +she could not tell which to give the Victory to. Fortune, be but on our +Side, and we'll help thee to a Husband. O rare! She has answer'd her +Desire, we have got this Game, set it up, that we mayn't forget. + +_Jer._ It is almost Night, and we have play'd enough, we had better +leave off, too much of one Thing is good for nothing, let us reckon our +Winnings. + +_Nic._ We have won three Groats, and you have won two; then there is one +to be spent. But who must pay for the Balls? + +_Jer._ All alike, every one his Part. For there is so little won, we +can't take any Thing from that. + + * * * * * + +_2. BOWL PLAYING._ + +_ADOLPHUS, BERNARDUS_, the Arbitrators. + +_Adol._ You have been often bragging what a mighty Gamester you were at +Bowls. Come now, I have a Mind to try what a one you are. + +_Ber._ I'll answer you, if you have a Mind to that Sport. Now you'll +find according to the Proverb; _You have met with your Match._ + +_Adol._ Well, and you shall find I am a Match for you too. + +_Ber._ Shall we play single Hands or double Hands? + +_Adol._ I had rather play single, that another may not come in with me +for a Share of the Victory. + +_Ber._ And I had rather have it so too, that the Victory may be entirely +my own. + +_Adol._ They shall look on, and be Judges. + +_Ber._ I take you up; But what shall he that beats get, or he that is +beaten lose? + +_Adol._ What if he that beats shall have a Piece of his Ear cut off. + +_Ber._ Nay, rather let one of his Stones be cut out. It is a mean Thing +to play for Money; you are a _Frenchman_, and I a _German_, we'll both +play for the Honour of his Country. + +_Adol._ If I shall beat you, you shall cry out thrice, let _France_ +flourish; If I shall be beat (which I hope I shan't) I'll in the same +Words celebrate your _Germany_. + +_Ber._ Well, a Match. Now for good Luck; since two great Nations are at +Stake in this Game, let the Bowls be both alike. + +_Adol._ Do you see that Stone that lies by the Port there. + +_Ber._ Yes I do. + +_Adol._ That shall be the Jack. + +_Ber._ Very well, let it be so; but I say let the Bowls be alike. + +_Adol._ They are as like as two Peas. Take which you please, it's all +one to me. + +_Ber._ Bowl away. + +_Adol._ Hey-day, you whirl your Bowl as if your Arm was a Sling. + +_Ber._ You have bit your Lip, and whirled your Bowl long enough: Come +bowl away. A strong Bowl indeed, but I am best. + +_Adol._ If it had not been for that mischievous Bit of a Brick-bat +there, that lay in my Way, I had beat you off. + +_Ber._ Stand fair. + +_Adol._ I won't cheat: I intend to beat you, by Art, and not to cheat +ye, since we contend for the Prize of Honour: Rub, rub. + +_Ber._ A great Cast in Troth. + +_Adol._ Nay, don't laugh before you've won. We are equal yet. + +_Ber._ This is who shall: He that first hits the Jack is up. I have beat +you, sing. + +_Adol._ Stay, you should have said how many you'd make up, for my Hand +is not come in yet. + +_Ber._ Judgment, Gentlemen. + +_Arbitr._ 3. + +_Adol._ Very well. + +_Ber._ Well, what do you say now? Are you beat or no? + +_Adol._ You have had better Luck than I, but yet I won't vail to you, as +to Strength and Art; I'll stand to what the Company says. + +_Arb._ The _German_ has beat, and the Victory is the more glorious, that +he has beat so good a Gamester. + +_Ber._ Now Cock, crow. + +_Adol._ I am hoarse. + +_Ber._ That's no new Thing to Cocks; but if you can't crow like an old +Cock, crow like a Cockeril. + +_Adol._ Let _Germany_ flourish thrice. + +_Ber._ You ought to have said so thrice. I am a-dry; let us drink +somewhere, I'll make an end of the Song there. + +_Adol._ I won't stand upon that, if the Company likes it. + +_Arb._ That will be the best, the Cock will crow clearer when his Throat +is gargled. + + * * * * * + +_3. The Play of striking a Ball through an Iron Ring. + +GASPAR, ERASMUS. + +Gas._ Come, let's begin, _Marcolphus_ shall come in, in the Losers +Place. + +_Er._ But what shall we play for? + +_Gas._ He that is beat shall make and repeat _extempore_ a Distich, in +Praise of him that beat him. + +_Er._ With all my Heart. + +_Gas._ Shall we toss up who shall go first? + +_Er._ Do you go first if you will, I had rather go last. + +_Gas._ You have the better of me, because you know the Ground. + +_Er._ You're upon your own Ground. + +_Gas._ Indeed I am better acquainted with the Ground, than I am with my +Books; but that's but a small Commendation. + +_Er._ You that are so good a Gamester ought to give me Odds. + +_Gas._ Nay, you should rather give me Odds; but there's no great Honour +in getting a Victory, when Odds is taken: He only can properly be said +to get the Game, that gets it by his own Art; we are as well match'd as +can be. + +_Er._ Yours is a better Ball than mine. + +_Gas._ And yours is beyond me. + +_Er._ Play fair, without cheating and cozening. + +_Gas._ You shall say you have had to do with a fair Gamester. + +_Er._ But I would first know the Orders of the Bowling-alley. + +_Gas._ We make 4 up; whoever bowls beyond this Line it goes for nothing; +if you can go beyond those other Bounds, do it fairly and welcome: +Whoever hits a Bowl out of his Place loses his Cast. + +_Er._ I understand these Things. + +_Gas._ I have shut you out. + +_Er._ But I'll give you a Remove. + +_Gas._ If you do that I'll give you the Game. + +_Er._ Will you upon your Word? + +_Gas._ Yes, upon my Word: You have no other Way for it but to bank your +Bowl so as to make it rebound on mine. + +_Er._ I'll try: Well, what say you now Friend? Are not you beaten away? +(Have I not struck you away?) + +_Gas._ I am, I confess it; I wish you were but as wise as you are lucky; +you can scarce do so once in a hundred Times. + +_Er._ I'll lay you, if you will, that I do it once in three Times. But +come pay me what I have won. + +_Gas._ What's that? + +_Er._ Why, a Distich. + +_Gas._ Well, I'll pay it now. + +_Er._ And an extempore one too. Why do you bite your Nails? + +_Gas._ I have it. + +_Er._ Recite it out. + +_Gas._ As loud as you will. + + _Young Standers-by, dap ye the Conqueror brave, + Who me has beat, is the more learned Knave_. + +Han't you a Distich now? + +_Er._ I have, and I'll give you as good as you bring. + + * * * * * + +4. _Leaping._ + +VINCENT, LAURENCE. + +_Vi._ Have you a Mind to jump with me? + +_Lau._ That Play is not good presently after Dinner. + +_Vi._ Why so? + +_Lau._ Because that a Fulness of Belly makes the Body heavy. + +_Vi._ Not very much to those that live upon Scholars Commons, for these +oftentimes are ready for a Supper before they have done Dinner. + +_Lau._ What Sort of leaping is it that you like best? + +_Vi._ Let us first begin with that which is the plainest, as that of +Grasshoppers; or Leap-frog, if you like that better, both Feet at once, +and close to one another; and when we have play'd enough at this, then +we'll try other Sorts. + +_Lau._ I'll play at any Sort, where there is no Danger of breaking ones +Legs; I have no Mind to make Work for the Surgeon. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at hopping? + +_Lau._ That the Ghosts play, I am not for that. + +_Vi._ It's the cleverest Way to leap with a Pole. + +_Lau._ Running is a more noble Exercise; for _Æneas_ in _Virgil_ +proposed this Exercise. + +_Vi._ Very true, and he also propos'd the righting with Whirly-bats too, +and I don't like that Sport. + +_Lau._ Mark the Course, let this be the Starting-place, and yonder Oak +the Goal. + +_Vi._ I wish _Æneas_ was here, that he might propose what should be the +Conqueror's Prize. + +_Lau._ Glory is a Reward sufficient for Victory. + +_Vi._ You should rather give a Reward to him that is beat, to comfort +him. + +_Lau._ Then let the Victor's Reward be to go into the Town crowned with +a Bur. + +_Vi._ Well, 'tis done, provided you'll go before playing upon a Pipe. + +_Lau._ It is very hot. + +_Vi._ That is not strange when it is Midsummer. + +_Lau._ Swimming is better. + +_Vi._ I don't love to live like a Frog, I am a Land Animal, not an +amphibious one. + +_Lau._ But in old Time this was look'd upon to be one of the most noble +Exercises. + +_Vi._ Nay, and a very useful one too. + +_Lau._ For What? + +_Vi._ If Men are forc'd to fly in Battel, they are in the best Condition +that can run and swim best. + +_Lau._ The Art you speak of is not to be set light by; it is as +Praise-worthy sometimes to run away nimbly as it is to fight stoutly. + +_Vi._ I can't swim at all, and it is dangerous to converse with an +unaccustomed Element. + +_Lau._ You ought to learn then, for no Body was born an Artist. + +_Vi._ But I have heard of a great many of these Artists that have swum +in, but never swam out again. + +_Lau._ First try with Corks. + +_Vi._ I can't trust more to a Cork than to my Feet; if you have a Mind +to swim, I had rather be a Spectator than an Actor. + + + + +_The CHILD'S PIETY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Discourse furnishes a childish Mind with pious + Instructions of Religion, in what it consists. What is to + be done in the Morning in Bed, at getting up, at Home, at + School, before Meat, after Meat, before going to Sleep. + Of beginning the Day, of praying, of behaving themselves + studiously at School, Thriftiness of Time: Age flies. + What is to be done after Supper. How we ought to sleep. + Of Behaviour at holy Worship. All Things to be applied to + ourselves. The Meditation of a pious Soul at Church. What + Preachers are chiefly to be heard. Fasting is prejudicial + to Children. Confession is to be made to Christ. The + Society of wicked Persons is to be avoided. Of the + prudent chusing a Way of Living. Holy Orders and + Matrimony are not to be entred into before the Age of + Twenty-two. What Poets are fit to be read, and how._ + + +ERASMUS, GASPAR. + +_ERASMUS._ Whence came you from? Out of some Alehouse? + +_Ga._ No, indeed. + +_Er._ What from a Bowling Green? + +_Ga._ No, nor from thence neither. + +_Er._ What from the Tavern then? + +_Ga._ No. + +_Er._ Well, since I can't guess, tell me. + +_Ga._ From St. _Mary's_ Church. + +_Er._ What Business had you there? + +_Ga._ I saluted some Persons. + +_Er._ Who? + +_Ga._ Christ, and some of the Saints. + +_Er._ You have more Religion than is common to one of your Age. + +_Ga._ Religion is becoming to every Age. + +_Er._ If I had a Mind to be religious, I'd become a Monk. + +_Ga._ And so would I too, if a Monk's Hood carried in it as much Piety +as it does Warmth. + +_Er._ There is an old Saying, a young Saint and an old Devil. + +_Ga._ But I believe that old Saying came from old Satan: I can hardly +think an old Man to be truly religious, that has not been so in his +young Days. Nothing is learn'd to greater Advantage, than what we learn +in our youngest Years. + +_Er._ What is that which is call'd Religion? + +_Ga._ It is the pure Worship of God, and Observation of his +Commandments. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ It is too long to relate all; but I'll tell you in short, it +consists in four Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ In the first Place, that we have a true and pious Apprehension of +God himself, and the Holy Scriptures; and that we not only stand in Awe +of him as a Lord, but that we love him with all our Heart, as a most +beneficent Father. 2. That we take the greatest Care to keep ourselves +blameless; that is, that we do no Injury to any one. 3. That we exercise +Charity, _i.e._ to deserve well of all Persons (as much as in us lyes). +4. That we practise Patience, _i.e._ to bear patiently Injuries that are +offered us, when we can't prevent them, not revenging them, nor +requiting Evil for Evil. + +_Er._ You hold forth finely; but do you practise what you teach? + +_Ga._ I endeavour it manfully. + +_Er._ How can you do it like a Man, when you are but a Boy? + +_Ga._ I meditate according to my Ability, and call myself to an Account +every Day; and correct myself for what I have done amiss: That was +unhandsomely done this saucily said, this was uncautiously acted; in +that it were better to have held my Peace, that was neglected. + +_Er._ When do you come to this Reckoning? + +_Ga._ Most commonly at Night; or at any Time that I am most at Leisure. + +_Er._ But tell me, in what Studies do you spend the Day? + +_Ga._ I will hide nothing from so intimate a Companion: In the Morning, +as soon as I am awake, (and that is commonly about six a Clock, or +sometimes at five) I sign myself with my Finger in the Forehead and +Breast with the Sign of the Cross. + +_Er._ What then? + +_Ga._ I begin the Day in the Name of the Father, Son, and holy Spirit. + +_Er._ Indeed that is very piously done. + +_Ga._ By and by I put up a short Ejaculation to Christ. + +_Er._ What dost thou say to him? + +_Ga._ I give him Thanks that he has been pleased to bless me that Night; +and I pray him that he would in like Manner prosper me the whole of that +Day, so as may be for his Glory, and my Soul's Good; and that he who is +the true Light that never sets, the eternal Sun, that enlivens, +nourishes and exhilarates all Things, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Soul, that I mayn't fall into Sin; but by his Guidance, may attain +everlasting Life. + +_Er._ A very good Beginning of the Day indeed. + +_Ga._ And then having bid my Parents good Morrow, to whom next to God, I +owe the greatest Reverence, when it is Time I go to School; but so that +I may pass by some Church, if I can conveniently. + +_Er._ What do you do there? + +_Ga._ I salute Jesus again in three Words, and all the Saints, either +Men or Women; but the Virgin _Mary_ by Name, and especially that I +account most peculiarly my own. + +_Er._ Indeed you seem to have read that Sentence of _Cato, Saluta +libenter_, to good Purpose; was it not enough to have saluted Christ in +the Morning, without saluting him again presently? Are you not afraid +lest you should be troublesome by your over Officiousness? + +_Ga._ Christ loves to be often called upon. + +_Er._ But it seems to be ridiculous to speak to one you don't see. + +_Ga._ No more do I see that Part of me that speaks to him. + +_Er._ What Part is that? + +_Ga._ My Mind. + +_Er._ But it seems to be Labour lost, to salute one that does not salute +you again. + +_Ga._ He frequently salutes again by his secret Inspiration; and he +answers sufficiently that gives what is ask'd of him. + +_Er._ What is it you ask of him? For I perceive your Salutations are +petitionary, like those of Beggars. + +_Ga._ Indeed you are very right; for I pray that he, who, when he was a +Boy of about twelve Years of Age, sitting in the Temple, taught the +Doctors themselves, and to whom the heavenly Father, by a Voice from +Heaven, gave Authority to teach Mankind, saying, _This is my beloved +Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him_; and who is the eternal +Wisdom of the most high Father, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Understanding, to receive wholesome Learning, that I may use it to his +Glory. + +_Er._ Who are those Saints that you call peculiarly yours? + +_Ga._ Of the Apostles, St. _Paul_; of the Martyrs, St. _Cyprian_; of the +Doctors, St. _Jerome_; of the Virgins, St. _Agnes_. + +_Er._ How came these to be yours, more than the rest. Was it by Choice +or by Chance? + +_Ga._ They fell to me by Lot. + +_Er._ But you only salute them I suppose; do you beg any Thing of them? + +_Ga._ I pray, that by their Suffrages they would recommend me to +Christ, and procure that by his Assistance it may in Time come to pass +that I be made one of their Company. + +_Er._ Indeed what you ask for is no ordinary Thing: But what do you do +then? + +_Ga._ I go to School, and do what is to be done there with my utmost +Endeavour; I so implore Christ's Assistance, as if my Study without it +would signify nothing; and I study as if he offered no Help but to him +that labours industriously; and I do my utmost not to deserve to be +beaten, nor to offend my Master either in Word or Deed, nor any of my +Companions. + +_Er._ You are a good Boy to mind these Things. + +_Ga._ When School is done I make haste Home, and if I can I take a +Church in my Way, and in three Words, I salute Jesus again; and I pay my +Respects to my Parents; and if I have any Time, I repeat, either by +myself, or with one of my School-fellows, what was dictated in School. + +_Er._ Indeed you are a very good Husband of Time. + +_Ga._ No wonder I am of that, which is the most precious Thing in the +World, and when past is irrecoverable. + +_Er._ And _Hesiod_ teaches, that good Husbandry ought to be in the +Middle, it is too soon in the Beginning, and too late in the End. + +_Ga._ _Hesiod_ spoke right enough concerning Wine, but of Time no good +Husbandry is unseasonable. If you let a Hogshead of Wine alone it won't +empty itself; but Time is always a flying, sleeping or waking. + +_Er._ I confess so, but what do you do after that? + +_Ga._ When my Parents sit down to Dinner I say Grace, and then wait at +Table till I am bid to take my own Dinner; and having returned Thanks, +if I have any Time left I divert myself with my Companions with some +lawful Recreation till the Time comes to go to School again. + +_Er._ Do you salute Jesus again? + +_Ga._ Yes, if I have an Opportunity; but if it so happen that I have not +an Opportunity, or it be not seasonable, as I pass by the Church I +salute him mentally; and then I do what is to be done at School with all +my Might; and when I go Home again I do what I did before Dinner: After +Supper I divert myself with some pleasant Stories; and afterwards +bidding my Parents and the Family good Night, I go to Bed betimes, and +there kneeling down by the Bedside, as I have said, I say over those +Things I have been learning that Day at School; if I have committed any +great Fault, I implore Christ's Clemency, that he would pardon me, and I +promise Amendment: and if I have committed no Fault, I thank him for his +Goodness in preserving me from all Vice, and then I recommend myself to +him with all my Soul, that he would preserve me from the Attempts of my +evil Genius and filthy Dreams. When this is done, and I am got into Bed, +I cross my Forehead and Breast, and compose myself to Rest. + +_Er._ In what Posture do you compose yourself? + +_Ga._ I don't lye upon my Face or my Back, but first leaning upon my +Right-Side, I fold my Arms a-cross, so that they may defend my Breast, +as it were with the Figure of a Cross, with my Right-hand upon my Left +Shoulder, and my Left upon my Right, and so I sleep sweetly, either till +I awake of myself, or am called up. + +_Er._ You are a little Saint that can do thus. + +_Ga._ You are a little Fool for saying so. + +_Er._ I praise your Method, and I would I could practise it. + +_Ga._ Give your Mind to it and you will do it, for when once you have +accustom'd yourself to it for a few Months, these Things will be +pleasant, and become natural. + +_Er._ But I want to hear concerning divine Service. + +_Ga._ I don't neglect that, especially upon holy Days. + +_Er._ How do you manage yourself on holy Days? + +_Ga._ In the first place I examine myself if my Mind be Polluted by any +Stain of Sin. + +_Er._ And if you find it is, what do you do then? Do you refrain from +the Altar? + +_Ga._ Not by my bodily Presence, but I withdraw myself, as to my Mind, +and standing as it were afar off, as tho' not daring to lift up my Eyes +to God the Father, whom I have offended, I strike upon my Breast, crying +out with the Publican in the Gospel, _Lord, be merciful to me a Sinner_. +And then if I know I have offended any Man, I take Care to make him +Satisfaction if I can presently; but if I cannot do that, I resolve in +my Mind to reconcile my Neighbour as soon as possible. If any Body has +offended me, I forbear Revenge, and endeavour to bring it about, that he +that has offended me may be made sensible of his Fault, and be sorry for +it; but if there be no Hope of that, I leave all Vengeance to God. + +_Er._ That's a hard Task. + +_Ga._ Is it hard to forgive a small Offence to your Brother, whose +mutual Forgiveness thou wilt stand in frequent need of, when Christ has +at once forgiven us all our Offences, and is every Day forgiving us? +Nay, this seems to me not to be Liberality to our Neighbour, but putting +to Interest to God; just as tho' one Fellow-Servant should agree with +another to forgive him three Groats, that his Lord might forgive him ten +Talents. + +_Er._ You indeed argue very rationally, if what you say be true. + +_Ga._ Can you desire any Thing truer than the Gospel? + +_Er._ That is unreasonable; but there are some who can't believe +themselves to be Christians unless they hear Mass (as they call it) +every Day. + +_Ga._ Indeed I don't condemn the Practise in those that have Time +enough, and spend whole Days in profane Exercises; but I only disapprove +of those who superstitiously fancy that that Day must needs be +unfortunate to them that they have not begun with the Mass; and +presently after divine Service is over they go either to Trading, +Gaming, or the Court, where whatsoever succeeds, though done justly or +unjustly, they attribute to the Mass. + +_Er._ Are there any Persons that are so absurd? + +_Ga._ The greatest part of Mankind. + +_Er._ But return to divine Service. + +_Ga._ If I can, I get to stand so close by the Holy Altar, that I can +hear what the Priest reads, especially the Epistle and the Gospel; from +these I endeavour to pick something, which I fix in my Mind, and this I +ruminate upon for some Time. + +_Er._ Don't you pray at all in the mean Time? + +_Ga._ I do pray, but rather mentally than vocally. From the Things the +Priest reads I take occasion of Prayer. + +_Er._ Explain that a little more, I don't well take in what you mean. + +_Ga._ I'll tell you; suppose this Epistle was read, _Purge out the old +Leaven, that ye may be a new Lump, as ye are unleavened_. On occasion of +these Words I thus address myself to Christ, "I wish I were the +unleavened Bread, pure from all Leaven of Malice; but do thou, O Lord +Jesus, who alone art pure, and free from all Malice, grant that I may +every Day more and more purge out the old Leaven." Again, if the Gospel +chance to be read concerning the Sower sowing his Seed, I thus pray with +my self, "Happy is he that deserves to be that good Ground, and I pray +that of barren Ground, he of his great Goodness would make me good +Ground, without whose Blessing nothing at all is good." These for +Example Sake, for it would be tedious to mention every Thing. But if I +happen to meet with a dumb Priest, (such as there are many in _Germany_) +or that I can't get near the Altar, I commonly get a little Book that +has the Gospel of that Day and Epistle, and this I either say out aloud, +or run it over with my Eye. + +_Er._ I understand; but with what Contemplations chiefly dost thou pass +away the Time? + +_Ga._ I give Thanks to Jesus Christ for his unspeakable Love, in +condescending to redeem Mankind by his Death; I pray that he would not +suffer his most holy Blood to be shed in vain for me, but that with his +Body he would always feed my Soul, and that with his Blood he would +quicken my Spirit, that growing by little and little in the Increase of +Graces, I may be made a fit Member of his mystical Body, which is the +Church; nor may ever fall from that holy Covenant that he made with his +elect Disciples at the last Supper, when he distributed the Bread, and +gave the Cup; and through these, with all who are engraffed into his +Society by Baptism. And if I find my Thoughts to wander, I read some +Psalms, or some pious Matter, that may keep my Mind from wandring. + +_Er._ Have you any particular Psalms for this Purpose? + +_Ga._ I have; but I have not so tyed myself up to them, but that I can +omit them, if any Meditation comes into my Mind that is more refreshing, +than the Recitation of those Psalms. + +_Er._ What do you do as to Fasting? + +_Ga._ I have nothing to do with Fasting, for so _Jerome_ has taught me; +that Health is not to be impair'd by fasting, until the Body is arrived +at its full Strength. I am not quite 17 Years old; but yet if I find +Occasion, I dine and sup sparingly, that I may be more lively for +Spiritual Exercises on holy Days. + +_Er._ Since I have begun, I will go through with my Enquiries. How do +you find yourself affected towards Sermons? + +_Ga._ Very well, I go to them as devoutly as if I was a going to a holy +Assembly; and yet I pick and chuse whom to hear, for there are some, one +had better not hear than hear; and if such an one happens to preach, or +if it happen that no Body preaches, I pass this Time in reading the +Scriptures, I read the Gospel or Epistle with _Chrysostom's_ or +_Jerome's_ Interpretation, or any other pious and learned Interpreter +that I meet with. + +_Er._ But Word of Mouth is more affecting. + +_Ga._ I confess it is. I had rather hear if I can but meet with a +tolerable Preacher; but I don't seem to be wholly destitute of a Sermon +if I hear _Chrysostom_ or _Jerome_ speaking by their Writings. + +_Er._ I am of your Mind; but how do you stand affected as to +Confession? + +_Ga._ Very well; for I confess daily. + +_Er._ Every Day? + +_Ga._ Yes. + +_Er._ Then you ought to keep a Priest to yourself. + +_Ga._ But I confess to him who only truly remits Sins, to whom all the +Power is given. + +_Er._ To whom? + +_Ga._ To Christ. + +_Er._ And do you think that's sufficient? + +_Ga._ It would be enough for me, if it were enough for the Rulers of the +Church, and receiv'd Custom. + +_Er._ Who do you call the Rulers of the Church? + +_Ga._ The Popes, Bishops and Apostles. + +_Er._ And do you put Christ into this Number? + +_Ga._ He is without Controversy the chief Head of e'm all. + +_Er._ And was he the Author of this Confession in use? + +_Ga._ He is indeed the Author of all good; but whether he appointed +Confession as it is now us'd in the Church, I leave to be disputed by +Divines. The Authority of my Betters is enough for me that am but a Lad +and a private Person. This is certainly the principal Confession; nor is +it an easy Matter to confess to Christ; no Body confesses to him, but he +that is angry with his Sin. If I have committed any great Offence, I lay +it open, and bewail it to him, and implore his Mercy; I cry out, weep +and lament, nor do I give over before I feel the Love of Sin throughly +purged from the Bottom of my Heart, and some Tranquility and +Chearfulness of Mind follow upon it, which is an Argument of the Sin +being pardoned. And when the Time requires to go to the holy Communion +of the Body and Blood of Christ; then I make Confession to a Priest too, +but in few Words, and nothing but what I am well satisfy'd are Faults, +or such that carry in them a very great Suspicion that they are such; +neither do I always take it to be a capital or enormous Crime, every +Thing that is done contrary to human Constitutions, unless a wicked +Contemptuousness shall go along with it: Nay, I scarce believe any Crime +to be Capital, that has not Malice join'd with it, that is, a perverse +Will. + +_Er._ I commend you, that you are so religious, and yet not +superstitious: Here I think the old Proverb takes place: _Nec omnia, nec +passim, nec quibuslibet_, That a Person should neither speak all, nor +every where, nor to all Persons. + +_Ga._ I chuse me a Priest, that I can trust with the Secrets of my +Heart. + +_Er._ That's wisely done: For there are a great many, as is found by +Experience, do blab out what in Confessions is discovered to them. And +there are some vile impudent Fellows that enquire of the Person +confessing, those Things, that it were better if they were conceal'd; +and there are some unlearned and foolish Fellows, who for the Sake of +filthy Gain, lend their Ear, but apply not their Mind, who can't +distinguish between a Fault and a good Deed, nor can neither teach, +comfort nor advise. These Things I have heard from many, and in Part +have experienced my self. + +_Ga._ And I too much; therefore I chuse me one that is learn'd, grave, +of approv'd Integrity, and one that keeps his Tongue within his Teeth. + +_Er._ Truly you are happy that can make a Judgment of Things so early. + +_Ga._ But above all, I take Care of doing any Thing that I can't safely +trust a Priest with. + +_Er._ That's the best Thing in the World, if you can but do so. + +_Ga._ Indeed it is hard to us of ourselves, but by the Help of Christ it +is easy; the greatest Matter is, that there be a Will to it. I often +renew my Resolution, especially upon Sundays: And besides that, I +endeavour as much as I can to keep out of evil Company, and associate +myself with good Company, by whose Conversation I may be better'd. + +_Er._ Indeed you manage yourself rightly: For _evil Conversations +corrupt good Manners_. + +_Ga._ I shun Idleness as the Plague. + +_Er._ You are very right, for Idleness is the Root of all Evil; but as +the World goes now, he must live by himself that would keep out of bad +Company. + +_Ga._ What you say is very true, for as the _Greek_ wise Men said the +bad are the greatest Number. But I chuse the best out of a few, and +sometimes a good Companion makes his Companion better. I avoid those +Diversions that incite to Naughtiness, and use those that are innocent. +I behave myself courteous to all; but familiarly with none but those +that are good. If I happen at any Time to fall into bad Company, I +either correct them by a soft Admonition, or wink at and bear with them, +if I can do them no good; but I be sure to get out of their Company as +soon as I can. + +_Er._ Had you never an itching Mind to become a Monk? + +_Ga._ Never; but I have been often solicited to it by some, that call +you into a Monastery, as into a Port from a Shipwreck. + +_Er._ Say you so? Were they in Hopes of a Prey? + +_Ga._ They set upon both me and my Parents with a great many crafty +Persuasions; but I have taken a Resolution not to give my Mind either to +Matrimony or Priesthood, nor to be a Monk, nor to any Kind of Life out +of which I can't extricate myself, before I know myself very well. + +_Er._ When will that be? + +_Ga._ Perhaps never. But before the 28th Year of ones Age, nothing +should be resolved on. + +_Er._ Why so? + +_Ga._ Because I hear every where, so many Priests, Monks and married Men +lamenting that they hurried themselves rashly into Servitude. + +_Er._ You are very cautious not to be catch'd. + +_Ga._ In the mean Time I take a special Care of three Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ First of all to make a good Progress in Morality, and if I can't +do that, I am resolv'd to maintain an unspotted Innocence and good +Name; and last of all I furnish myself with Languages and Sciences that +will be of Use in any Kind of Life. + +_Er._ But do you neglect the Poets? + +_Ga._ Not wholly, but I read generally the chastest of them, and if I +meet with any Thing that is not modest, I pass that by, as _Ulysses_ +passed by the _Sirens_, stopping his Ears. + +_Er._ To what Kind of Study do you chiefly addict your self? To Physic, +the Common or Civil Law, or to Divinity? For Languages, the Sciences and +Philosophy are all conducive to any Profession whatsoever. + +_Ga._ I have not yet thoroughly betaken myself to any one particularly, +but I take a Taste of all, that I be not wholly ignorant of any; and the +rather, that having tasted of all I may the better chuse that I am +fittest for. Medicine is a certain Portion in whatsoever Land a Man is; +the Law is the Way to Preferment: But I like Divinity the best, saving +that the Manners of some of the Professors of it, and the bitter +Contentions that are among them, displease me. + +_Er._ He won't be very apt to fall that goes so warily along. Many in +these Days are frighted from Divinity, because they are afraid they +should not be found in the Catholick Faith, because they see no +Principle of Religion, but what is called in Question. + +_Ga._ I believe firmly what I read in the holy Scriptures, and the +Creed, called the Apostles, and I don't trouble my Head any farther: I +leave the rest to be disputed and defined by the Clergy, if they please; +and if any Thing is in common Use with Christians that is not repugnant +to the holy Scriptures, I observe it for this Reason, that I may not +offend other People. + +_Er._ What _Thales_ taught you that Philosophy? + +_Ga._ When I was a Boy and very young, I happen'd to live in the House +with that honestest of Men, _John Colet_, do you know him? + +_Er._ Know him, ay, as well as I do you. + +_Ga._ He instructed me when I was young in these Precepts. + +_Er._ You won't envy me, I hope, if I endeavour to imitate you? + +_Ga._ Nay, by that Means you will be much dearer to me. For you know, +Familiarity and good Will, are closer ty'd by Similitude of Manners. + +_Er._ True, but not among Candidates for the same Office, when they are +both sick of the same Disease. + +_Ga._ No, nor between two Sweet-hearts of the same Mistress, when they +are both sick of the same Love. + +_Er._ But without jesting, I'll try to imitate that Course of Life. + +_Ga._ I wish you as good Success as may be. + +_Er._ It may be I shall overtake thee. + +_Ga._ I wish you might get before me; but in the mean Time I won't stay +for you; but I will every Day endeavour to out-go myself, and do you +endeavour to out-go me if you can. + + + + +_The ART OF HUNTING._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with the Art of Hunting; + Fishing, of bringing Earth-Worms out of the Ground, of + sticking Frogs._ + + +PAUL, THOMAS, VINCENT, LAWRENCE, BARTHOLUS. + +_Pa. Every one to his Mind._ I love Hunting. + +_Th._ And so do I too, but where are the Dogs? The hunting Poles? And +the hunting Nets? + +_Pa._ Farewell Boars, Bears, Bucks, and Foxes, we'll lay Snares for +Rabbets. + +_Vi._ But I'll set Gins for Locusts and Crickets. + +_La._ But I'll catch Frogs. + +_Ba._ I'll hunt Butterflies. + +_La._ 'Tis difficult to follow flying Creatures. + +_Ba._ It is difficult, but 'tis fine Sport; unless you think it finer +Sport to hunt after Earth-Worms, Snails or Cockles, because they have no +Wings. + +_La._ Indeed I had rather go a Fishing; I have a neat Hook. + +_Ba._ But where will you get Baits? + +_La._ There are Earth-Worms enough every where to be had. + +_Ba._ So there is, if they would but creep out of the Ground to you. + +_La._ But I'll make a great many thousand jump out presently. + +_Ba._ How? By Witch-Craft? + +_La._ You shall see the Art. Fill this Bucket with Water, break these +green Peels of Walnuts to Pieces and put into it: Wet the Ground with +the Water. Now mind a little, do you see them coming out? + +_Ba._ I see a Miracle. I believe the armed Men started out of the Earth +after this Manner from the Serpents Teeth that were sown: But a great +many Fish are of too fine and delicate a Palate to be catch'd by such a +vulgar Bait. + +_La._ I know a certain Sort of an Insect that I us'd to catch such with. + +_Ba._ See if you can impose upon the Fishes so, I'll make work with the +Frogs. + +_La._ How, with a Net? + +_Ba._ No, with a Bow. + +_La._ That's a new Way of Fishing! + +_Ba._ But 'tis a pleasant one; you'll say so, when you see it. + +_Vi._ What if we two should play at holding up our Fingers? + +_Ba._ That's an idle, clownish Play indeed, fitter for them that are +sitting in a Chimney Corner, than those that are ranging in the Field. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at Cob-Nut? + +_Pa._ Let us let Nuts alone for little Chits, we are great Boys. + +_Vi._ And yet we are but Boys for all that. + +_Pa._ But they that are fit to play at Cob-Nut, are fit to ride upon a +Hobby-Horse. + +_Vi._ Well then, do you say what we shall play at; and I'll play at what +you will. + +_Pa._ And I'll be conformable. + + + + +_SCHOLASTIC STUDIES._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of scholastic Studies, and School + Plays, I. The Boys going into the School. The striking of + a Clock. A whipping Master. Of saying a Lesson. Fear + hurts the Memory. 2. Of Writing, the Paper sinks. Of + making a Pen. Of a hard Nip. A soft Nip. Of writing + quick, well._ + + +SYLVIUS, JOHN. + +_Sy._ What makes you run so, _John?_ + +_Jo._ What makes a Hare run before the Dogs, as they use to say? + +_Sy._ What Proverb is this? + +_Jo._ Because unless I am there in Time, before the Bill is called over, +I am sure to be whipp'd. + +_Sy._ You need not be afraid of that, it is but a little past five: Look +upon the Clock, the Hand is not come to the half Hour Point yet. + +_Jo._ Ay, but I can scarce trust to Clocks, they go wrong sometimes. + +_Sy._ But trust me then, I heard the Clock strike. + +_Jo._ What did that strike? + +_Sy._ Five. + +_Jo._ But there is something else that I am more afraid of than that, I +must say by Heart a good long Lesson for Yesterday, and I am afraid I +can't say it. + +_Sy._ I am in the same Case with you; for I myself have hardly got mine +as it should be. + +_Jo._ And you know the Master's Severity. Every Fault is a Capital one +with him: He has no more Mercy of our Breeches, than if they were made +of a Bull's Hide. + +_Sy._ But he won't be in the School. + +_Jo._ Who has he appointed in his Place? + +_Sy. Cornelius._ + +_Jo._ That squint-ey'd Fellow! Wo to our Back-Sides, he's a greater +Whip-Master than _Busby_ himself. + +_Sy._ You say very true, and for that Reason I have often wish'd he had +a Palsy in his Arm. + +_Jo._ It is not pious to wish ill to ones Master: it is our Business +rather to take Care not to fall under the Tyrant's Hands. + +_Sy._ Let us say one to another, one repeating and the other looking in +the Book. + +_Jo._ That's well thought on. + +_Sy._ Come, be of good Heart; for Fear spoils the Memory. + +_Jo._ I could easily lay aside Fear, if I were out of Danger; but who +can be at Ease in his Mind, that is in so much Danger. + +_Sy._ I confess so; but we are not in Danger of our Heads, but of our +Tails. + + * * * * * + +2. _Of Writing._ + +CORNELIUS, ANDREW. + +_Co._ You write finely, but your Paper sinks. Your Paper is damp, and +the Ink sinks through it. + +_An._ Pray make me a Pen of this. + +_Co._ I have not a Pen-knife. + +_An._ Here is one for you. + +_Co._ Out on't, how blunt it is! + +_An._ Take the Hoan. + +_Co._ Do you love to write with a hard-nip'd Pen, or a soft? + +_An._ Make it fit for your own Hand. + +_Co._ I use to write with a soft Nip. + +_An._ Pray write me out the Alphabet. + +_Co._ Greek or Latin? + +_An._ Write me the Latin first; I'll try to imitate it. + +_Co._ Give me some Paper then. + +_An._ Take some. + +_Co._ But my Ink is too thin, by often pouring in of Water. + +_An._ But my Cotton is quite dry. + +_Co._ Squeeze it, or else piss in it. + +_An._ I had rather get some Body to give me some. + +_Co._ It is better to have of one's own, than to borrow. + +_An._ What's a Scholar without Pen and Ink? + +_Co._ The same that a Soldier is without Shield or Sword. + +_An._ I wish my Fingers were so nimble, I can't write as fast as another +speaks. + +_Co._ Let it be your first chief Care to write well, and your next to +write quick: No more Haste than good Speed. + +_An._ Very well; say to the Master when he dictates, no more Haste than +good Speed. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of giving Thanks. + +PETER, CHRISTIAN._ + +_Pe._ You have oblig'd me, in that you have written to me sometimes. I +thank you for writing to me often. I love you, that you have not thought +much to send me now and then a Letter. I give you Thanks that you have +visited me with frequent Letters. I thank you for loading of me with +Packets of Letters. I thank you heartily that you have now and then +provoked me with Letters. You have oblig'd me very much that you have +honour'd me with your Letters. I am much beholden to you for your most +obliging Letters to me. I take it as a great Favour, that you have not +thought much to write to me. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I ought to beg Pardon for my Presumption, who dar'd presume +to trouble a Man of so much Business, and so much Learning with my +unlearned Letters. I acknowledge your usual Humanity, who have taken my +Boldness in good Part. I was afraid my Letters had given you some +Offence, that you sent me no Answer. There is no Reason that you should +thank me, it is more than enough for me, if you have taken my Industry +in good Part. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking after News._ + +_Pe._ Is there no News come from our Country? Have you had any News from +our Countrymen? What News? Do you bring any News? Is there any News come +to Town? Is there any News abroad from our Country? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ There is much News; but nothing of Truth. News enough indeed; but +nothing certain. A great deal of News; but nothing to be depended upon. +Not a little News; but not much Truth. There is no News come. I have had +no News at all. Something of News; but nothing certain. There are a +great many Reports come to Town; but they are all doubtful. There is a +great deal of Talk; but nothing true, nothing certain. If Lies please, I +have brought you a whole Cart-Load of them. I bring you whole Bushels of +Tales. I bring you as many Lies as a good Ship will carry. + +_Pe._ Then unlade yourself as fast as you can, for fear you should sink, +being so over-freighted. + +_Ch._ I have nothing but what's the Chat of Barbers Shops, Coaches and +Boats. + + +_Han't you received any Letters. The Form_. + +_Pe._ Have you had no Letters? Have you had any Letters out of your own +Country? Have no Letters been brought to you? Have you receiv'd any +Letters? Have you had any Letters? Have you receiv'd any Letters from +your Friends? Are there no Letters come from _France_? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ I have received no Letters. I han't had so much as a Letter. I +han't had the least Bit of a Letter. No Body has sent me any Letter. +There is not the least Word come from any Body. I have received no more +Letters for this long Time, than what you see in my Eye. Indeed I had +rather have Money than Letters. I had rather receive Money than Letters. +I don't matter Letters, so the Money does but come. I had rather be +paid, than be written to. + + * * * * * + +_I believe so. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I easily believe you. That is not hard to be believ'd. It is a +very easy Thing to believe that. Who would not believe you in that? He +will be very incredulous, that won't believe you in that Matter. In +Truth I do believe you. You will easily make me believe that. I can +believe you without swearing. What you say is very likely. But for all +that, Letters bring some Comfort. I had rather have either of them, than +neither. + + * * * * * + +_Of Profit. A Form._ + +_Ch._ What signifies Letters without Money? What signifies empty +Letters? What do empty Letters avail? What good do they do, what do they +profit, advantage? To whom are Letters grateful or acceptable without +Money? What Advantage do empty Letters bring? What are idle Letters good +for? What do they do? What use are they of? What are they good for? What +do they bring with them of Moment? What Use are empty Letters of? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ They are useful, fit, proper, to wipe your Breech with. They are +good to wipe your Backside with. If you don't know the Use of them, they +are good to wipe your Arse with. To wipe your Breech with. To wipe your +Backside with. They are good to cleanse that Part of the Body that often +fouls itself. They are good to wrap Mackrel in. Good to make up Grocery +Ware in. + + * * * * * + +_Of wishing well._ + +1. _To a Man whose Wife is with Child._ + +_Pe._ What? are our little Friends well? How does your Wife do? + +_Ch._ Very well, I left her with her Mother, and with Child. + +_Pe._ I wish it may be well for you, and her too: To you, because you're +shortly to be a Father, and she a Mother. God be with you. I pray and +desire that it may be prosperous and happy to you both. I pray, I beg of +God that she, having a safe Delivery, may bear a Child worthy of you +both; and may make you a Father of a fine Child. I commend you that you +have shewed yourself to be a Man. I am glad you have prov'd yourself to +be a Man. You have shew'd yourself to be a Gallus, but not _Cybele_'s. +Now you may go, I believe you are a Man. + +_Ch._ You joke upon me, as you are used to do. Well, go on, you may say +what you please to me. + + * * * * * + +2. _To one coming Home into his own Country._ + +_Ch._ I hear, you have lately been in your own Country. + +_Pe._ I have so, I had been out of it a pretty While. I could not bear +to be out of it long. I could not bear to be out of my Parents Sight any +longer. I thought it long till I enjoy'd my Friends Company. + +_Ch._ You have acted very piously. You are very good Humour'd, to think +of those Matters. We have all a strange Affection for the Country that +hath bred us, and brought us forth. + +_As_ Ovid _says_: + + _Nescio quâ natale solum dulcedine cunctos + Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui._ + +Pray tell me how did you find all Things there. + + * * * * * + +_All Things new. The Form._ + +_Pe._ Nothing but what was new. All Things changed, all Things become +new. See how soon Time changes all human Affairs. Methought I came into +another World. I had scarce been absent ten Years, and yet I admired at +every Thing, as much as _Epimenides_ the Prince of Sleepers, when he +first wak'd out of his Sleep. + +_Ch._ What Story is that? What Fable is that? + +_Pe._ I'll tell you if you are at Leisure. + +_Ch._ There is nothing more pleasant. + +_Pe._ Then order me a Chair and a Cushion. + +_Ch._ That's very well thought on, for you will tell Lyes the better, +sitting at Ease. + +_Pe._ Historians tell us a Story, of one _Epimenides_ a Man of _Crete_, +who taking a Walk alone by himself without the City, being caught in a +hasty Shower of Rain, went for Shelter into a Cave, and there fell +asleep, and slept on for seven and forty Years together. + + +_I don't believe it. The Form._ + +_Ch._ What a Story you tell? 'Tis incredible. What you say is not very +likely. You tell me a Fiction. I don't think 'tis true. You tell me a +monstrous Story. Are you not asham'd to be guilty of so wicked a Lye? +This is a Fable fit to be put among _Lucian's_ Legends. + +_Pe._ Nay, I tell you what is related by Authors of Credit, unless you +think _Aulus Gellius_ is not an Author of approv'd Credit. + +_Ch._ Nay, whatsoever he has written are Oracles to me. + +_Pe._ Do you think that a Divine dream'd so many Years? For it is +storied that he was a Divine. + +_Ch._ I am with Child to hear. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ What is it more than what _Scotus_ and the School-men did +afterwards? But _Epimenides_, he came off pretty well, he came to +himself again at last; but a great many Divines never wake out of their +Dreams. + +_Ch._ Well go on, you do like a Poet; But go on with your Lye. + +_Pe._ _Epimenides_ waking out of his Sleep, goes out of his Cave, and +looks about him, and sees all Things chang'd, the Woods, the Banks, the +Rivers, the Trees, the Fields; and, in short, there was nothing but was +new: He goes to the City, and enquires; he stays there a little While, +but knows no Body, nor did any Body know him: the Men were dress'd after +another Fashion, than what they were before; they had not the same +Countenances; their Speech was alter'd, and their Manners quite +different: Nor do I wonder it was so with _Epimenides_, after so many +Years, when it was almost so with me, when I had been absent but a few +Years. + +_Ch._ But how do your Father and Mother do? Are they living? + +_Pe._ They are both alive and well; but pretty much worn out with old +Age, Diseases, and lastly, with the Calamities of War. + +_Ch._ This is the Comedy of human Life. This is the inevitable Law of +Destiny. + + * * * * * + +_Words, Names of Affinity._ + +_Pe._ Will you sup at Home to Day? + +_Ch._ I am to sup abroad: I must go out to Supper. + +_Pe._ With whom? + +_Ch._ With my Father in Law; with my Son in Law; at my Daughter's in +Law; with my Kinsman. They are call'd, _Affines_, Kinsmen, who are +ally'd not by Blood, but Marriage. + +_Pe._ What are the usual Names of Affinity? + +_Ch._ A Husband and Wife are noted Names. _Socer_, Is my Wife's Father. +_Gener_, My Daughter's Husband. _Socrus_, My Wife's Mother. _Nurus_, My +Son's Wife. _Levir_, A Husband's Brother. _Levir_ is call'd by the Wife, +as _Helen_ calls _Hector_, _Levir_, because she was married to _Paris_. +_Fratria_, My Brother's Wife. _Glos_, A Husband's Sister. _Vitricus_, My +Mother's Husband. _Noverca_, My Father's Wife. _Privignus_, The Son of +my Wife or Husband. _Privigna_, The Daughter of either of them. +_Rivalis_, He that loves the same Woman another does. _Pellex_, She that +loves the same Man another does; as _Thraso_ is the Rival of +_Phroedria_, and _Europa_ the _Pellex_ of _Juno_. + + * * * * * + +_Of inviting to a Feast._ + +_Dine with me to Morrow._ + +_Pe._ I give you Thanks, I commend you, I invite you to Supper against +to Morrow, I entreat your Company at Supper to Morrow. I desire you'd +come to Dinner with me to Morrow. I would have your Company at Dinner +to Morrow. + + +_I fear I can't come._ + +_Ch._ I fear I can't. I am afraid I can't. I will come if I can; but I +am afraid I can't. + + +_Why?_ + +_Pe._ Why can't you? How so? Why so? Wherefore? For what Reason? For +what Cause? What hinders you that you can't. + + +_I must stay at Home._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I must be at Home at that Time. I must needs be at Home at +Night. I must not be abroad at that Time. I shall not have an +Opportunity to go out any where to Morrow. I must not be absent at +Dinner. I expect some Guests myself upon that Day. Some Friends have +made an Appointment to sup at our House that Night. I have some Guests +to entertain that Night, or else I would come with all my Heart. Unless +it were so, I would not be unwilling to come. If it were not so, I +should not want much entreating. I would make no Excuse if I could come. +If I could come, I would not be ask'd twice. If I could by any Means +come, I would come with a very little, or without any Invitation at all. +If I could, I would obey your Command very readily. It is in vain to ask +one that is not at his own Disposal: And there would be no need to ask +me if I could come: But at present, though I had never so much Mind, I +can't; and it would be altogether unnecessary to ask one that is +willing. + +_Pe._ Then pray let me have your Company the next Day after: However, I +must needs have your Company at Supper the next Day after to Morrow. You +must not deny me your Company four Days hence. You must make no Excuse +as to coming next Thursday. + + +_I can't promise._ + +_Ch._ I can't promise. I cannot positively promise you. I can't +certainly promise you. I will come when it shall be most convenient for +us both. + + +_You ought to set the Day._ + +_Pe._ I would have you appoint a Day when you will come to sup with me. +You must assign a Day. You must set the Day. I desire a certain Day may +be prefix'd, prescrib'd, appointed, set; but set a certain Day. I would +have you tell me the Day. + + +_I would not have you know before Hand._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I don't use to set a Day for my Friends. I am used to set a +Day for those I'm at Law with. I would not have you know before Hand. +I'll take you at unawares. I'll come unexpectedly. I will catch you when +you don't think on me. I shall take you when you don't think on me. I'll +come unlooked for. I'll come upon you before you are aware. I'll come an +uninvited and unexpected Guest. + + +_I would know before Hand._ + +_Pe._ I would know two Days before Hand. Give me Notice two Days before +you come. Make me acquainted two Days before. + +_Ch._ If you will have me, I'll make a _Sybaritical_ Appointment, that +you may have Time enough to provide afore Hand. + +_Pe._ What Appointment is that? + +_Ch._ The _Sybarites_ invited their Guests against the next Year, that +they might both have Time to be prepar'd. + +_Pe._ Away with the _Sybarites_, and their troublesome Entertainments: I +invite an old Chrony, and not a Courtier. + + +_You desire to your own Detriment._ + +_Ch._ Indeed 'tis to your Detriment. Indeed 'tis to your own Harm. To +your own Loss. You wish for it. You pray for that to your own +Ill-convenience. + +_Pe._ Why so? Wherefore. + +_Ch._ I'll come provided. I'll come prepar'd. I'll set upon you +accoutred. I'll come furnish'd with a sharp Stomach; do you take Care +that you have enough to satisfy a Vulture. I'll prepare my Belly and +whet my Teeth; do you look to it, to get enough to satisfy a Wolf. + +_Pe._ Come and welcome, I dare you to it. Come on, if you can do any +Thing, do it to your utmost, with all your Might. + +_Ch._ I'll come, but I won't come alone. + +_Pe._ You shall be the more welcome for that; but who will you bring +with you? + +_Ch._ My _Umbra_. + +_Pe._ You can't do otherwise if you come in the Day Time. + +_Ch._ Ay, but I'll bring one _Umbra_ or two that have got Teeth, that +you shan't have invited me for nothing. + +_Pe._ Well, do as you will, so you don't bring any Ghosts along with +you. But if you please explain what is the Meaning of the Word _Umbra_. + +_Ch._ Among the Learned they are call'd _Umbræ_, who being uninvited, +bear another Person, that is invited, Company to a Feast. + +_Pe._ Well, bring such Ghosts along with you as many as you will. + + * * * * * + +_I promise upon this Condition._ + +_Ch._ Well, I will come, but upon this Condition, that you shall come to +Supper with me the next Day. I will do it upon this Condition that you +shall be my Guest afterwards. Upon that Condition I promise to come to +Supper, that you again shall be my Guest. I promise I will, but upon +these Terms, that you in the like Manner shall be my Guest the next Day. +I promise I will, I give you my Word I will, upon this Consideration, +that you dine with me the next Day. + +_Pe._ Come on, let it be done, let it be so. It shall be as you would +have it. If you command me, I'll do it. I know the _French_ Ambition, +You won't sup with me, but you'll make me Amends for it. And so by this +Means Feasts use to go round. From hence it comes to pass, that it is a +long Time before we have done feasting one with another. By this +Interchangeableness Feasts become reciprocal without End. + +_Ch._ It is the pleasantest Way of Living in the World, if no more +Provision be made, but what is used to be made daily. But, I detain you, +it may be, when you are going some whither. + +_Pe._ Nay, I believe, I do you. But we'll talk more largely and more +freely to Morrow. But we'll divert ourselves to Morrow more plentifully. +In the mean Time take Care of your Health. In the mean Time take Care to +keep yourself in good Health. Farewell till then. + + * * * * * + +_Whither are you going? The Form._ + +_Ch._ Where are you a going now? Whither are you going so fast? Where +are you a going in such great Haste. Whither go you? What's your Way? + + * * * * * + +_I go Home. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I go Home. I return Home. I go to see what they are a doing at +Home. I go to call a Doctor. I am going into the Country. I made an +Appointment just at this Time to go to speak with a certain great Man. I +made an Appointment to meet a great Man at this Time. + +_Ch._ Whom? + +_Pe._ Talkative _Curio_. + +_Ch._ I wish you _Mercury_'s Assistance. + +_Pe._ What need of _Mercury_'s Assistance? + +_Ch._ Because you have to do with a Man of Words. + +_Pe._ Then it were more proper to wish the Assistance of the Goddess +_Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you'll have more Occasion for patient Ears, than a +strenuous Tongue. And the Ear is dedicated to the Goddess _Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Whither are you going? Whither will you go? + +_Pe._ This Way, to the left Hand. This Way, that Way, through the +Market. + +_Ch._ Then I'll bear you Company as far as the next Turning. + +_Pe._ I won't let you go about. You shan't put yourself to so much +Trouble on my Account. Save that Trouble till it shall be of Use, it is +altogether unnecessary at this Time. Don't go out of your Way upon my +Account. + +_Ch._ I reckon I save my Time while I enjoy the Company of so good a +Friend. I have nothing else to do, and I am not so lazy, if my Company +won't be troublesome. + +_Pe._ No Body is a more pleasant Companion. But I won't suffer you to go +on my left Hand. I won't let you walk on my left Hand. Here I bid God be +with you. I shall not bear you Company any longer. You shan't go further +with me. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Recommending._ + +_Ch._ Recommend me kindly to _Curio_. Recommend me as kindly as may be +to talkative _Curio_. Take Care to recommend me heartily to _Curio_. I +desire you have me recommended to him. I recommend myself to him by you. +I recommend myself to you again and again. I recommend myself to your +Favour with all the Earnestness possible. Leave _recommendo_ instead of +_commendo_ to _Barbarians_. See that you don't be sparing of your +Speech with one that is full of Tongue. See that you be not of few Words +with him that is a Man of many Words. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Obsequiousness._ + +_Pe._ Would you have me obey you? Would you have me be obedient? Shall I +obey you? Then you command me to imitate you. Since you would have it +so, I'll do it with all my Heart. Don't hinder me any longer; don't let +us hinder one another. + +_Ch._ But before you go, I intreat you not to think much to teach me how +I must use these Sentences, _in morâ, in causâ, in culpâ_; you use to be +studious of Elegancy. Wherefore come on, I entreat you teach me; explain +it to me, I love you dearly. + + * * * * * + +_In Culpâ, In Causâ, In Morâ._ + +_Pe._ I must do as you would have me. The Fault is not in me. It is not +in thee. The Delay is in thee. Thou art the Cause, is indeed +grammatically spoken; these are more elegant. + + +_In Culpâ._ + +I am not in the Fault. The Fault is not mine. I am without Fault. Your +Idleness has been the Cause, that you have made no Proficiency, not your +Master nor your Father. You are all in Fault. You are both in Fault. You +are both to be blam'd. Ye are both to be accus'd. You have gotten this +Distemper by your own ill Management. In like Manner they are said to be +_in vitio_, to whom the Fault is to be imputed; and _in crimine_, they +who are to be blam'd; and _in damno_, who are Losers. This sort of +Phrase is not to be inverted commonly; _Damnum in illo est. Vitium in +illo est._ + + + * * * * * + +_In Causâ._ + +Sickness has been the Occasion that I have not written to you. My +Affairs have been the Cause that I have written to you so seldom, and +not Neglect. What was the Cause? What Cause was there? I was not the +Cause. The Post-Man was in the Fault that you have had no Letters from +me. Love and not Study is the Cause of your being so lean. This is the +Cause. + + +_In Morâ._ + +I won't hinder you. What has hinder'd you? You have hindred us. You are +always a Hindrance. What hindred you? Who has hindred you? You have what +you ask'd for. It is your Duty to remember it. You have the Reward of +your Respect. Farewell, my _Christian_. + +_Ch._ And fare you well till to Morrow, my _Peter_. + + * * * * * + +_At Meeting._ + +_CHRISTIAN, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ God save you heartily, sweet _Austin_. + +_Au._ I wish the same to you, most kind _Christian_. Good Morrow to you. +I wish you a good Day; but how do you do? + +_Ch._ Very well as Things go, and I wish you what you wish for. + +_Au._ I love you deservedly. I love thee. Thou deservest to be lov'd +heartily. Thou speakest kindly. Thou art courteous. I give thee Thanks. + + * * * * * + +_I am angry with thee. The Form._ + +_Ch._ But I am something angry with you. But I am a little angry with +you. But I am a little provok'd at you. I have something to be angry +with you for. + + + * * * * * + +_For what Cause. The Form._ + +_Au._ I pray what is it? Why so? But why, I beseech you? What Crime have +I committed? What have I done? _Promereor bona_, I deserve Good; +_Commereor mala_, I deserve Ill, or Punishment: The one is used in a +good Sense, and the other in an ill. _Demeremur eum_, is said of him +that we have attach'd to us by Kindness. + + + * * * * * + +_Because you don't Regard me._ + +_Ch._ Because you take no Care of me. Because you don't regard me. +Because you come to see us so seldom. Because you wholly neglect us. +Because you quite neglect me. Because you seem to have cast off all Care +of us. + +_Au._ But there is no Cause for you to be angry. But you are angry +without my Desert, and undeservedly; for it has not been my Fault, that +I have come to see you but seldom: Forgive my Hurry of Business that has +hindered me from seeing you, as often as I would have done. + +_Ch._ I will pardon you upon this Condition, if you'll come to Supper +with me to Night. I'll quit you upon that Condition, if you come to +Supper with me in the Evening. + +_Au. Christian_, you prescribe no hard Articles of Peace, and therefore +I'll come with all my Heart. Indeed I will do it willingly. Indeed I +would do that with all Readiness in the World. I shan't do that +unwillingly. I won't want much Courting to that. There is nothing in the +World that I would do with more Readiness. I will do it with a willing +Mind. + +_Ch._ I commend your obliging Temper in this, and in all other Things. + +_Au._ I use always to be thus obsequious to my Friends, especially when +they require nothing but what's reasonable. O ridiculous! Do you think I +would refuse when offer'd me, that which I should have ask'd for of my +own Accord? + + + + * * * * * + +_Don't deceive me. The Form._ + +_Ch._ Well, but take Care you don't delude me. See you don't deceive me. +Take Care you don't make me feed a vain Hope. See you don't fail my +Expectation. See you don't disappoint me. See you don't lull me on with +a vain Hope. + +_Au._ There is no Need to swear. In other Things, in other Matters you +may be afraid of Perfidy. In this I won't deceive you. But hark you, see +that you provide nothing but what you do daily: I would have no holy Day +made upon my Account. You know that I am a Guest that am no great +Trencher Man, but a very merry Man. + +_Ch._ I'll be sure to take Care. I will entertain you with Scholars +Commons, if not with slenderer Fare. + +_Au._ Nay, if you'd please me, let it be with _Diogenes_'s Fare. + +_Ch._ You may depend upon it, I will treat you with a _Platonick_ +Supper, in which you shall have a great many learned Stories, and but a +little Meat, the Pleasure of which shall last till the next Day: whereas +they that have been nobly entertain'd, enjoy perhaps a little Pleasure +that Day, but the next are troubled with the Head-ach, and Sickness at +the Stomach. He that supp'd with _Plato_, had one Pleasure from the easy +Preparation, and Philosopher's Stories; and another the next Day, that +his Head did not ach, and that his Stomach was not sick, and so had a +good Dinner of the sauce of last Night's Supper. + +_Au._ I like it very well, let it be as you have said. + +_Ch._ Do you see that you leave all your Cares and melancholy Airs at +Home, and bring nothing hither but Jokes and Merriment; and as _Juvenal_ +says, + + _Protenus ante meum, quicquid dolet, exue limen. + + Lay all that troubles you down before my Door, before you come into it._ + +_Au._ What? Would you have me bring no Learning along with me? I will +bring my Muses with me, unless you think it not convenient. + +_Ch._ Shut up your ill-natured Muses at Home with your Business, but +bring your good-natured Muses, all your witty Jests, your By-words, your +Banters, your Pleasantries, your pretty Sayings, and all your +Ridiculosities along with you. + +_Au._ I'll do as you bid me; put on all my best Looks. We'll be merry +Fellows. We'll laugh our Bellies full. We'll make much of ourselves. +We'll feast jovially. We'll play the _Epicureans_. We'll set a good Face +on't, and be boon Blades. These are fine Phrases of clownish Fellows +that have a peculiar Way of speaking to themselves. + +_Ch._ Where are you going so fast? + +_Au._ To my Son's in Law. + +_Ch._ What do you do there? Why thither? What do you with him? + +_Au._ I hear there is Disturbance among them; I am going to make them +Friends again, to bring them to an Agreement; to make Peace among them. + +_Ch._ You do very well, though I believe they don't want you; for they +will make the Matter up better among themselves. + +_Au._ Perhaps there is a Cessation of Arms, and the Peace is to be +concluded at Night. But have you any Thing else to say to me? + +_Ch._ I will send my Boy to call you. + +_Au._ When you please. I shall be at Home. Farewell. + +_Ch._ I wish you well. See that you be here by five a-Clock. Soho +_Peter_, call _Austin_ to Supper, who you know promised to come to +Supper with me to Day. + +_Pe._ Soho! Poet, God bless you, Supper has been ready this good While, +and my Master stays for you at Home, you may come when you will. + +_Au._ I come this Minute. + + + + +_The PROFANE FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Our_ Erasmus _most elegantly proposes all the Furniture + of this Feast; the Discourses and Behaviour of the + Entertainer and the Guests_, &c. _Water and a Bason + before Dinner. The_ Stoics, _the_ Epicureans; _the Form + of the Grace at Table. It is good Wine that pleases four + Senses. Why_ Bacchus _is the Poets God; why he is painted + a Boy. Mutton very wholsome. That a Man does not live by + Bread and Wine only. Sleep makes some Persons fat. + Venison is dear. Concerning Deers, Hares, and Geese: They + of old defended the Capitol at_ Rome. _Of Cocks, Capons + and Fishes. Here is discoursed of by the by, Fasting. Of + the Choice of Meats. Some Persons Superstition in that + Matter. The Cruelty of those Persons that require these + Things of those Persons they are hurtful to; when the + eating of Fish is neither necessary, nor commanded by + Christ. The eating of Fish is condemned by Physicians. + The chief Luxury of old Time consisted in Fishes. We + should always live a sober Life. What Number of Guests + there should be at an Entertainment. The Bill of Fare of + the second Course. The Magnificence of the_ French. _The + ancient Law of Feasts. Either drink, or begone. A + Variation of Phrases. Thanksgiving after Meat._ + + +AUSTIN, CHRISTIAN, _a_ BOY. + +_Au._ O, my _Christian_, God bless you. + +_Ch._ It is very well that you are come. I am glad you're come. I +congratulate myself that you are come. I believe it has not struck five +yet. + +_Boy._ Yes, it is a good While past five. It is not far from six. It is +almost six. You'll hear it strike six presently. + +_Au._ It is no great Matter whether I come before five or after five, as +long as I am not come after Supper; for that is a miserable Thing, to +come after a Feast is over. What's all this great Preparation for? What +means all this Provision? What, do you think I'm a Wolf? Do you take me +for a Wolf? Do you think I'm a Vulture? + +_Ch._ Not a Vulture, nor yet do I think you a Grashopper, to live upon +Dew. Here is nothing of Extravagancy, I always lov'd Neatness, and abhor +Slovenliness. I am for being neither luxurious nor niggardly. We had +better leave than lack. If I dress'd but one Dish of Peas, and the Soot +should chance to fall in the Pot and spoil it, what should we have to +eat then? Nor does every Body love one Thing; therefore I love a +moderate Variety. + +_Au._ An't you afraid of the sumptuary Laws? + +_Ch._ Nay, I most commonly offend on the contrary Side. There is no need +of the _Fannian_ Law at our House. The Slenderness of my Income teaches +me Frugality sufficiently. + +_Au._ This is contrary to our Agreement. You promised me quite +otherwise. + +_Ch._ Well, Mr. Fool, you don't stand to your Agreement. For it was +agreed upon that you should bring nothing but merry Tales. But let us +have done with these Matters, and wash, and sit down to Supper. Soho, +Boy, bring a little Water and a Bason; hang a Towel over your Shoulder, +pour out some Water. What do you loiter for? Wash, _Austin_. + +_Au._ Do you wash first. + +_Ch._ Pray excuse me. I had rather eat my Supper with unwashen Hands +this twelve Months. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! 'Tis not he that is the most honourable, but he +that is the dirtiest that should wash first; then do you wash as the +dirtiest. + +_Ch._ You are too complaisant. You are more complaisant than enough; +than is fitting. But to what Purpose is all this Ceremony? Let us leave +these trifling Ceremonies to Women, they are quite kick'd out of the +Court already, although they came from thence at first. Wash three or +four at a Time. Don't let us spend the Time in these Delays. I won't +place any Body, let every one take what Place he likes best. He that +loves to sit by the Fire, will sit best here. He that can't bear the +Light let him take this Corner. He that loves to look about him, let him +sit here. Come, here has been Delays enough. Sit down. I am at Home, +I'll take my Supper standing, or walking about, which I like best. Why +don't you sit down, Supper will be spoiled. + +_Au._ Now let us enjoy ourselves, and eat heartily. Now let us be +_Epicures_. We have nothing to do with Superciliousness. Farewell Care, +let all Ill-will and Detraction be banished. Let us be merry, pleasant, +and facetious. + +_Ch. Austin_, pray who are those _Stoics_ and _Epicures_? + +_Au._ The _Stoics_ are a certain melancholy, rigid, parcimonious Sect of +Philosophers, who make the _Summum bonum_ of Mankind, to consist in a +certain, I can't tell what, _honestum_. The _Epicures_ are the Reverse +of these, and they make the Felicity of a Man to consist in Pleasure. + +_Ch._ Pray what Sect are you of, a _Stoic_ or an _Epicure_? + +_Au._ I recommend _Zeno_'s Rules; but I follow _Epicurus_'s Practice. + +_Ch. Austin_, what you speak in Jest, a great many do in Earnest, and +are only Philosophers by their Cloaks and Beards. + +_Au._ Nay, indeed they out-live the _Asots_ in Luxury. + +_Ch. Dromo_, come hither. Do your Office, say Grace. + +_Boy._ "May he that feeds all Things by his Bounty, command his Blessing +upon what is or shall be set upon this Table. Amen." + +_Ch._ Set the Victuals on the Table. Why do we delay to eat up this +Capon? Why are we afraid to carve this Cock? + +_Au._ I'll be _Hercules_, and slay this Beast. Which had you rather +have, a Wing or a Leg? + +_Ch._ Which you will, I don't matter which. + +_Au._ In this Sort of Fowls the Wing is look'd upon the best; in other +Fowls the Leg is commonly esteemed the greater dainty Bit. + +_Ch._ I put you to a great Deal of Trouble. You take a great Deal of +Trouble upon you, upon my Account. You help every Body else, and eat +nothing yourself. I'll help you to this Wing; but upon this Condition, +that you shall give me Half of it back. + +_Au._ Say you so, that is serving yourself and not me; keep it for +yourself. I am not so bashful as to want any Body to help me. + +_Ch._ You do very well. + +_Au._ Do you carve for a Wolf? Have you invited a Vulture? + +_Ch._ You fast. You don't eat. + +_Au._ I eat more than any Body. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather, you lye more than any Body. Pray be as free as if you +were at your own House. + +_Au._ I take myself to be there. I do so. I am resolv'd so to do. I +design to do so. + +_Ch._ How does this Wine please you? Does this Wine please your Palate? + +_Au._ Indeed it pleases me very well. Indeed it pleases mightily. It +pleases me well enough. It pleases me very well. + +_Ch._ Which had you rather have, Red or White? + +_It is no Matter what Colour it is._ + +_Au._ Indeed I like both alike. It is no Matter what Colour 'tis, so the +Taste be pleasing. I don't much mind how the Wine pleases the Eye, so it +do but please the Palate. I an't much mov'd at the Sight of it, if the +Taste be but grateful. It is no great Matter what Colour it is of, or +what Colour it has, if it does but taste well. I don't desire to please +my Eyes if I can but please my Taste. If it do but please the Palate, I +don't regard the Colour, if it be well relish'd. + +_Ch._ I believe so: But there are some Persons that are mighty deeply +read in Table Philosophy, who deny that the Wine can be good, unless it +pleases four Senses: The Eye, with its Colour; the Nose, with its Smell; +the Palate, with its Taste; the Ears, by its Fame and Name. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! What signifies Fame to Drink? + +_Ch._ As much as many that have a good Palate mightily approve of +_Lovain_ Wine, when they believe it to be _Bern_ Wine. + +_Au._ It may be, they had spoiled their Palate by much Drinking. + +_Ch._ No, before they had drank one Drop. But I have a Mind to hear your +Opinion, who are a Man of great Skill in these Matters. + +_Au._ Our Countrymen prefer White before Red, because the Red is a +little more upon the Acid, and the White a smaller Wine; but that is the +milder, and in my Opinion the more wholsome. + +_Ch._ We have a pale red Wine, and a yellow Wine, and a purple Colour +Wine. This is new Wine, this Year's Wine. This is two Years old, if any +Body is for an old Wine. We have some four Years old, but it is grown +flat and dead with Age. The Strength is gone with Age. + +_Au._ Why, you're as rich as _Lucullus_. + +_Ch._ Soho, Boy, where are you a loitering? You give us no Attendance; +don't you see we have no Wine here? What if a Fire should happen now? +How should we put it out? Give every one a full Glass. _Austin_, What's +the matter that you are not merry? What makes you sit so Melancholy? +What's the Matter with you, that you an't chearful? You are either +troubled at something, or you're making Verses. You play the +_Crysippus_ now, you want a _Melissa_ to feed you. + +_Au._ What Story is this you are telling me of? + +_Ch. Crysippus_ is reported to have been so intent upon his logical +Subtilties, that he would have been starved at Table, unless his Maid +_Melissa_ had put the Meat into his Mouth. + +_Au._ He did not deserve to have his Life sav'd; but if Silence is an +Offence to you, and you love a noisy Feast, you have gotten that will +make one. + +_Ch._ I remember I have. That's very well minded: We must drink more +freely, we ought to drink more largely, more Wine and less Water. + + _You have hit on the Matter._ + +_Au._ You have hit the Nail on the Head. You are in the Right. You have +hit the Mark. For, + +_Foecundi calices quem non fecere disertum?_ + +_Ch._ That is very learnedly spoken, _Austin_, and so indeed is all that +comes from you; but since we are fallen into a Discourse concerning +Wine, since we have happen'd to make mention of Wine, I have a mind to +ask you, for what Reason the Ancients, who will have _Bacchus_ the +Inventor of Wine, call him the God of the Poets? What has that drunken +God to do with Poets, who are the Votaries of the Virgin Muses? + +_Au._ By _Bacchus_, this is a Question fit to be put over a Bottle. But +I see very well, what your Question drives at. + +_Ch._ What, prithee? + +_Au._ You very cunningly put a Question about Wine, by a _French_ Trick, +which I believe you learn'd at _Paris_, that you may save your Wine by +that Means. Ah, go your Way, I see you're a Sophister; you have made a +good Proficiency in that School. + +_Ch._ Well, I take all your Jokes; I'll return the like to you, when +Opportunity shall offer. But to the Matter in Hand. + +_Au._ I'll go on, but I'll drink first, for it is absurd to dispute +about a tippling Question with a dry Throat. Here's to you _Christian_. +Half this Cup to you. + +_Ch._ I thank you kindly. God bless it to you, much good may it do you. + +_Au._ Now I'm ready, at your Service. I'll do it as well as I can after +my Manner. That they have given a Boy's Face to _Bacchus_, has this +Mystery in it; that Wine being drank, takes away Cares and Vexations +from our Minds, and adds a Sort of a Chearfulness to them. And for this +Reason, it adds a Sort of Youthfulness even to old Men, in that it makes +them more chearful, and of a better Complexion. The same thing _Horace_ +in many Places, and particularly testifies in these Verses: + + _Ad mare cum veni, generosum et lene requiro, + Quod curas abigat, quod cum spe divite manet. + In venas, animumque meum, quod verba ministret. + Quod me Lucanoe juvenem commendet amicæ._ + +For that they have assign'd the Poets to this Deity, I believe by it +they design'd to intimate this, that Wine both stirs up Wit and +administers Eloquence; which two Things are very fit for Poets. Whence +it comes to pass, that your Water Drinkers make poor Verses. For +_Bacchus_ is of a fiery Constitution naturally, but he is made more +temperate, being united with the Nymphs. Have you been answer'd to your +Satisfaction? + +_Ch._ I never heard any Thing more to the Purpose from a Poet. You +deserve to drink out of a Cup set with Jewels. Boy, take away this Dish, +and set on another. + +_Au._ You have got a very clownish Boy. + +_Ch._ He is the unluckiest Knave in the World. + +_Au._ Why don't you teach him better Manners? + +_Ch._ He is too old to learn. It is a hard matter to mend the Manners of +an old Sinner. An old Dog won't be easily brought to wear the Collar. +He's well enough for me. Like Master like Man. + + + * * * * * + +_If I knew what you lik'd, I would help you._ + +_Au._ I would cut you a Slice, if I knew what would please you. I would +help you, if I knew your Palate. I would help you, if I knew what you +lik'd best. If I knew the Disposition of your Palate, I would be your +Carver. Indeed my Palate is like my Judgment. + +_Ch._ You have a very nice Palate. No Body has a nicer Palate than you +have. I don't think you come behind him of whose exquisite Skill the +Satyrist says, + + _Ostrea callebat primo deprendere morsu, + Et semel aspecti dicebat littus echini._ + +_Au._ And you, my _Christian_, that I may return the Compliment, seem to +have been Scholar to _Epicurus_, or brought up in the _Catian_ School. +For what's more delicate or nice than your Palate? + +_Ch._ If I understood Oratory so well as I do Cookery, I'd challenge +_Cicero_ himself. + +_Au._ Indeed if I must be without one, I had rather want Oratory than +Cookery. + +_Ch._ I am entirely of your Mind, you judge gravely, wisely, and truly. +For what is the Prattle of Orators good for, but to tickle idle Ears +with a vain Pleasure? But Cookery feeds and repairs the Palate, the +Belly, and the whole Man, let him be as big as he will. _Cicero_ says, +_Concedat laurea lingæ_; but both of them must give place to Cookery. I +never very well liked those _Stoicks_, who referring all things to their +(I can't tell what) _honestum_, thought we ought to have no regard to +our Persons and our Palates. _Aristippus_ was wiser than _Diogenes_ +beyond Expression in my Opinion. + +_Au._ I despise the _Stoicks_ with all their Fasts. But I praise and +approve _Epicurus_ more than that _Cynic Diogenes_, who lived upon raw +Herbs and Water; and therefore I don't wonder that _Alexander_, that +fortunate King, had rather be _Alexander_ than _Diogenes_. + +_Ch._ Nor indeed would I myself, who am but an ordinary Man, change my +Philosophy for _Diogenes_'s; and I believe your _Catius_ would refuse +to do it too. The Philosophers of our Time are wiser, who are content to +dispute like _Stoicks_, but in living out-do even _Epicurus_ himself. +And yet for all that, I look upon Philosophy to be one of the most +excellent Things in Nature, if used moderately. I don't approve of +philosophising too much, for it is a very jejune, barren, and melancholy +Thing. When I fall into any Calamity or Sickness, then I betake myself +to Philosophy, as to a Physician; but when I am well again, I bid it +farewell. + +_Au._ I like your Method. You do philosophize very well. Your humble +Servant, Mr. Philosopher; not of the _Stoick_ School, but the Kitchen. + +_Ch._ What is the Matter with you, _Erasmus_, that you are so +melancholy? What makes you look so frowningly? What makes you so silent? +Are you angry with me because I have entertained you with such a slender +Supper? + +_Er._ Nay, I am angry with you that you have put your self to so much +Charge upon my Account. _Austin_ laid a strict Charge upon you that you +would provide nothing extraordinary upon his Account. I believe you have +a Mind we should never come to see you again; for they give such a +Supper as this that intended to make but one. What sort of Guests did +you expect? You seem to have provided not for Friends, but for Princes. +Do you think we are Gluttons? This is not to entertain one with a +Supper, but victualling one for three Days together. + +_Ch._ You will be ill-humour'd. Dispute about that Matter to-Morrow; +pray be good humour'd to-Day. We'll talk about the Charge to-Morrow; I +have no Mind to hear any Thing but what is merry at this time. + +_Au. Christian_, whether had you rather have, Beef or Mutton? + +_Ch._ I like Beef best, but I think Mutton is the most wholsome. It is +the Disposition of Mankind to be most desirous of those Things that are +the most hurtful. + +_Au._ The _French_ are wonderful Admirers of Pork. + +_Ch._ The _French_ love that most that costs least. + +_Au._ I am a Jew in this one Thing, there is nothing I hate so much as +Swine's Flesh. + +_Ch._ Nor without Reason, for what is more unwholsome? In this I am not +of the _French_ Man's but of the _Jew's_ Mind. + +_Er._ But I love both Mutton and Pork, but for a different Reason; for I +eat freely of Mutton, because I love it; but Hogs Flesh I don't touch, +by Reason of Love, that I may not give Offence. + +_Ch._ You are a clever Man, _Erasmus_, and a very merry one too. Indeed +I am apt to admire from whence it comes to pass that there is such a +great Diversity in Mens Palates, for if I may make use of this Verse of +_Horace_, + + Tres mihi convivæ propè dissentire videntur, + Poscentes vario multùm diversa palato. + +_Er._ Although as the Comedian says, _So many Men, so many Minds_, and +every Man has his own Way; yet no Body can make me believe, there is +more Variety in Mens Dispositions, than there is in their Palates: So +that you can scarce find two that love the same Things. I have seen a +great many, that can't bear so much as the Smell of Butter and Cheese: +Some loath Flesh; one will not eat roast Meat, and another won't eat +boil'd. There are many that prefer Water before Wine. And more than +this, which you'll hardly believe; I have seen a Man who would neither +eat Bread, nor drink Wine. + +_Ch._ What did that poor Man live on? + +_Er._ There was nothing else but what he could eat; Meat, Fish, Herbs +and Fruit. + +_Ch._ Would you have me believe you? + +_Er._ Yes, if you will. + +_Ch._ I will believe you; but upon this Condition, that you shall +believe me when I tell a Lye. + +_Er._ Well, I will do it, so that you lye modestly. + +_Ch._ As if any Thing could be more impudent than your Lye. + +_Er._ What would your Confidence say, if I should shew you the Man? + +_Ch._ He must needs be a starveling Fellow, a meer Shadow. + +_Er._ You'd say he was a Champion. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather a _Polyphemus_. + +_Er._ I wonder this should seem so strange to you, when there are a +great many that eat dry'd Fish instead of Bread: And some that the Roots +of Herbs serve for the same Use that Bread does us. + +_Ch._ I believe you; lye on. + +_Er._ I remember, I saw a Man when I was in _Italy_, that grew fat with +Sleep, without the Assistance either of Meat or Drink. + +_Ch._ Fie for Shame; I can't forbear making Use of that Expression of +the Satyrist, + + Tunc immensa cavi spirant mendacia folles. + +Thou poeticisest. You play the Part of a Poet. I am loath to give you +the Lye. + +_Er._ I am the greatest Lyar in the World, if _Pliny_, an Author of +undoubted Credit, has not written, that a Bear in fourteen Days Time +will grow wonderfully fat with nothing but Sleep: And that he will sleep +so sound, that you can scarce wake him, by wounding him: Nay, to make +you admire the more, I will add what _Theophrastus_ writes, that during +that Time, if the Flesh of the Bear be boil'd, and kept some Time, it +will come to Life again. + +_Ch._ I am afraid that _Parmeno_ in _Terence_ will hardly be able to +comprehend these Things. I believe it readily. I would help you to some +Venison, if I were well enough accomplished. + +_Er._ Where have you any Hunting now? How came you by Venison? + +_Ch._ _Midas_, the most generous spirited Man living, and a very good +Friend of mine, sent it me for a Present; but so, that I oftentimes buy +it for less. + +_Er._ How so? + +_Ch._ Because I am obliged to give more to his Servants, than I could +buy it for in the Market. + +_Er._ Who obliges you to that? + +_Ch._ The most violent Tyrant in the World. + +_Er._ Who is he? + +_Ch._ Custom. + +_Er._ Indeed, that Tyrant does frequently impose the most unjust Laws +upon Mankind. + +_Ch._ The same Tyrant hunted this Stag, but the Day before Yesterday. +What did you do, who used to be a very great Lover of that Sport? + +_Au._ Indeed I have left off that Sport, and now I hunt after nothing +but Learning. + +_Ch._ In my Opinion, Learning is fleeter than any Stag. + +_Au._ But I hunt chiefly with two Dogs, that is to say, with Love and +Industry: For Love affords a great Deal of Eagerness to learn, and as +the most elegant Poet says, + + ----_Labor improbus omnia vincit._ + +_Ch. Austin_, you admonish after a friendly Manner, as you use to do; +and therefore, I won't give over, nor rest, nor tire, till I attain. + +_Au._ Venison is now in the Prime. _Pliny_ tells us a very admirable +Story concerning this Animal. + +_Ch._ What is it, I pray you? + +_Au._ That as often as they prick up their Ears, they are very quick of +Hearing; but on the contrary, when they let them down, they are deaf. + +_Ch._ That very often happens to myself; for if I happen to hear a Word +spoken of receiving Guineas, there is no Body quicker of Hearing than I; +for then with _Pamphilus_ in _Terence_, I prick up my Ears; but when +there is any Mention made of paying them away, I let them down, and am +presently hard of Hearing. + +_Au._ Well, I commend you; you do as you should do. + +_Ch._ Would you have some of the Leg of this Hare? + +_Au._ Take it yourself. + +_Ch._ Or had you rather have some of the Back? + +_Au._ This Creature has nothing good but its Flank and hind Legs. + +_Ch._ Did you ever see a white Hare? + +_Au._ Oftentimes. _Pliny_ writes, that on the _Alps_ there are white +Hares; and that it is believed in the Winter Time they feed upon Snow: +Whether it be true or no, let _Pliny_ see to that: For if Snow makes a +Hare's Skin white, it must make his Stomach white too. + +_Ch._ I don't know but it may be true. + +_Au._ I have something for you that is stranger than that; but it may be +you have heard of it. The same Man testifies that there is the same +Nature in all of them; that is, of Males and Females, and that the +Females do as commonly breed without the Use of the Male, as with it. +And many Persons assert the same, and especially your skilful Hunters. + +_Ch._ You say right; but if you please, let us try these Rabbets, for +they are fat and tender. I would help that pretty Lady if I sat nigher +to her. _Austin_, pray take Care of that Lady that sits by you, for you +know how to please the fair Sex. + +_Au._ I know what you mean, you Joker. + +_Ch._ Do you love Goose? + +_Au._ Ay, I love 'em mightily, and I an't very nice. I don't know what's +the Matter, but this Goose don't please me; I never saw any Thing dryer +in all my Life; it is dryer than a Pumice-Stone, or _Furius_'s Mother in +Law, upon whom _Catullus_ breaks so many Jests. I believe it is made of +Wood; And in Troth I believe 'tis an old Soldier, that has worn itself +out with being upon the Guard. They say a Goose is the most wakeful +Creature living. In Truth, if I am not out in my Guess, this Goose was +one of them, who when the Watch and their Dogs were fast asleep, in old +Time defended the _Roman_ Capitol. + +_Ch._ As I hope to live I believe it was, for I believe it liv'd in that +Age. + +_Au._ And this Hen was either half starv'd, or else was in love, or was +jealous; for this Sort of Creatures are much troubled with that +Distemper. This Capon fatten'd much better; see what Cares will do. If +we were to geld our _Theodoricus_, he would grow fat much the sooner. + +_Th._ I an't a Cock. + +_Au._ I confess you are not _Gallus Cybeles_, nor a Dunghil-Cock; but it +may be you are _Gallus Gallaceus_. + +_Ch._ What Word is that? + +_Au._ I leave that Word to be unriddled by you: I am _Sphinx_, and you +shall be _Oedipus_. + +_Ch. Austin_, tell me truly, have you had no Conversation with _French_ +Men, have you had no Affinity with them? Had you nothing to do with +them? + +_Au._ None at all, indeed. + +_Ch._ Then you are so much the worse. + +_Au._ But perhaps I have had to do with _French_ Women. + +_Ch._ Will you have any of this Goose's Liver? This was look'd upon as a +great Delicacy by the Ancients. + +_Au._ I will refuse nothing that comes from your Hand. + +_Ch._ You must not expect _Roman_ Dainties. + +_Au._ What are they? + +_Ch._ Thistles, Cockles, Tortoises, Conger-Eels, Mushrooms, Truffles, +etc. + +_Au._ I had rather have a Turnip than any of them. You are liberal and +bountiful, _Christian_. + +_Ch._ No Body touches these Partridges nor the Pigeons, to-Morrow is a +Fast-Day appointed by the Church; prepare against that Hunger; Ballast +your Ship against the impending Storm. War is a coming, furnish your +Belly with Provision. + +_Au._ I wish you had kept that Word in, we should have risen from Supper +more merrily. You torment us before the Time. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Au._ Because I hate Fish worse than I do a Snake. + +_Ch._ You are not alone. + +_Au._ Who brought in this troublesome Custom? + +_Ch._ Who order'd you to take Aloes, Wormwood and Scammony in Physick? + +_Au._ But these Things are given to Folks that are sick. + +_Ch._ So these Things are given to them that are too well. It is better +sometimes to be sick, than to be too well. + +_Au._ In my Opinion the _Jews_ themselves did not labour under such a +Burden. Indeed I could easily refrain from Eels and Swines Flesh, if I +might fill my Belly with Capons and Partridges. + +_Ch._ In a great many Circumstances it is not the Thing, but the Mind +that distinguishes us from _Jews_; they held their Hands from certain +Meats, as from unclean Things, that would pollute the Mind; but we, +understanding that _to the Pure, all Things are pure_, yet take away +Food from the wanton Flesh, as we do Hay from a pamper'd Horse, that it +may be more ready to hearken to the Spirit. We sometimes chastise the +immoderate Use of pleasant Things, by the Pain of Abstinence. + +_Au._ I hear you; but by the same Argument, Circumcision of the Flesh +may be defended; for that moderates the Itch of Coition, and brings +Pain. If all hated Fish as bad as I do, I would scarce put a Parricide +to so much Torture. + +_Ch._ Some Palates are better pleas'd with Fish than Flesh. + +_Au._ Then they like those Things that please their Gluttony, but don't +make for their Health. + +_Ch._ I have heard of some of the _Æsops_ and _Apitius_'s, that have +look'd upon Fish as the greatest Delicacy. + +_Au._ How then do Dainties agree with Punishment? + +_Ch._ Every Body han't Lampreys, Scares, and Sturgeons. + +_Au._ Then it is only the poor Folks that are tormented, with whom it is +bad enough, if they were permitted to eat Flesh; and it often happens, +that when they may eat Flesh for the Church, they can't for their Purse. + +_Ch._ Indeed, a very hard Injunction! + +_Au._ And if the Prohibition of Flesh be turned to delicious Living to +the Rich; and if the Poor can't eat Flesh many Times, when otherwise +they might, nor can't eat Fish, because they are commonly the dearer; to +whom does the Injunction do good? + +_Ch._ To all; for poor Folks may eat Cockles or Frogs, or may gnaw upon +Onions or Leeks. The middle Sort of People will make some Abatement in +their usual Provision; and though the Rich do make it an Occasion of +living deliciously, they ought to impute that to their Gluttony, and not +blame the Constitution of the Church. + +_Au._ You have said very well; but for all that, to require Abstinence +from Flesh of poor Folks, who feed their Families by the Sweat of their +Brows, and live a great Way from Rivers and Lakes, is the same Thing as +to command a Famine, or rather a _Bulimia_. And if we believe _Homer_, +it is the miserablest Death in the World to be starv'd to Death. + +_Ch._ So it seem'd to blind _Homer_; but with _Christians_, he is not +miserable that dies well. + +_Au._ Let that be so; yet it is a very hard Thing to require any Body to +die. + +_Ch._ The Popes don't prohibit the eating of Flesh with that Design, to +kill Men, but that they may be moderately afflicted if they have +transgress'd; or that taking away their pleasant Food, their Bodies may +be less fierce against the Spirit. + +_Au._ The moderate Use of Flesh would effect that. + +_Ch._ But in so great a Variety of Bodies certain Bounds of Flesh can't +be prescrib'd, a Kind of Food may. + +_Au._ There are Fishes that yield much Aliment, and there are Sorts of +Flesh that yield but little. + +_Ch._ But in general Flesh is most nourishing. + +_Au._ Pray tell me, if you were to go a Journey any whither, would you +chuse a lively Horse that was a little wanton, or a diseased Horse, who +would often stumble and throw his Rider? + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ Because Fish-eating, by its corrupt Humours, renders the Body +liable to a great many Diseases, that it can't subserve the Spirit as it +should do. + +_Ch._ To what Diseases? + +_Au._ Gouts, Fevers, Leprosies, the King's-Evil. + +_Ch._ How do you know? + +_Au._ I believe Physicians. I had rather do so than try the Experiment. + +_Ch._ Perhaps that happens to a few. + +_Au._ Indeed I believe to a great many; besides, in as much as the Mind +acts by the material Organs of the Body, which are affected with good or +bad Humours, the Instruments being vitiated, it can't exert its Power as +it would. + +_Ch._ I know Doctors do very much find Fault with the eating of Fish; +but our Ancestors thought otherwise, and it is our Duty to obey them. + +_Au._ It was a Piece of Religion formerly not to break the Sabbath; but +for all that, it was more eligible to save a Man on the Sabbath-Day. + +_Ch._ Every one consults his own Health. + +_Au._ If we will obey St. _Paul, Let no Body mind his own Things, but +every one the Things of another_. + +_Ch._ How come we by this new Divine at our Table? Whence comes this new +upstart Master of ours? + +_Au._ Because I don't like Fishes. + +_Ch._ What, then won't you abstain from Flesh? + +_Au._ I do abstain, but grumblingly, and to my great Detriment too. + +_Ch. Charity suffers all Things._ + +_Au._ It is true; but then the same requires but little. If it suffers +all Things, why won't it suffer us to eat those Meats the Gospel has +given us a Liberty to eat? Why do those Persons, from whom Christ has so +often required the Love of himself, suffer so many Bodies of Men to be +endanger'd by capital Diseases, and their Souls to be in Danger of +eternal Damnation, because of a Thing neither forbidden by _Christ_, nor +necessary in itself? + +_Ch._ When Necessity requires it, the Force of a human Constitution +ceases, and the Will of the Lawgiver ceases. + +_Au._ But the Offence of the Weak does not cease. The Scruple of a +tender Conscience does not cease. And lastly, it is uncertain with what +Limits that Necessity shall be bounded; shall it be when the Fish-eater +shall be a giving up the Ghost? It is too late to give Flesh to a Man +when he is dying; or shall it be when his Body becomes all feverish? +The Choice of Meats is not of so much Consequence. + +_Ch._ What would you have prescrib'd then? + +_Au._ I can tell well enough, if I might be allow'd to be a Dictator in +Ecclesiastical Affairs. + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ If I were Pope I would exhort all Persons to a perpetual Sobriety +of Life, but especially before an holy-Day; and moreover, I would give +every one leave to eat what he would, for the Health of his Body, so he +did it moderately, and with Thanksgiving; and I would endeavour that +what was abated of these Observations should be made up in the Study of +true Piety. + +_Ch._ That in my Opinion is of so great Weight, that we ought to make +you Pope. + +_Au._ For all your laughing, this Neck could bear a triple Crown. + +_Ch._ But in the mean Time take Care that these Things be not enter'd +down in the _Sorbon_ at _Paris_. + +_Au._ Nay, rather let what is said be written in Wine, as it is fit +those Things should that are said over our Cups; but we have had +Divinity enough for a Feast We are at Supper, not at the _Sorbon_. + +_Ch._ Why mayn't that be call'd _Sorbon_ where we sup plentifully? + +_Au._ Well, let us sup then, and not dispute, lest the _Sorbon_ be +called after us from _Sorbis_, and not from _Sorbendo_. + +_CHRISTIAN, GUESTS, MIDAS, ERASMUS, the BOY, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ Well, come my kind Guests, I pray you that you would take this +little Supper in good Part, though it be but a slender one. Be merry and +good humour'd, though the Supper be but mean and slender. I, relying +upon your Familiarity, made bold to invite you; and I will assure you, +your Company and Presence is not only very grateful to me, but very +pleasant. + +_Gu._ We do assure you, good _Christian_, that we esteem your Supper to +have been very pretty and noble; and we have nothing to find Fault with, +but that you make Excuses for it, for that it was very magnificent; for +indeed I look upon the Entertainment to be splendid to the greatest +degree, that in the first Place consisted of Courses agreeable to +Nature, and was season'd with Mirth, Laughter, Jokes and Witticisms, +none of which have been wanting in our Entertainment. But here is +something comes into my Mind, as to the Number of the Guests, which +_Varro_ writes, _should not be fewer than three, nor more than nine_. +For the _Graces_, who are the Presidents of Humanity and Benevolence, +are three; and the _Muses_, that are the Guides of commendable Studies, +are nine; and I see here we have ten Guests besides the Virgins. + +_Au._ Nothing could happen more agreeably; we are in that something +wiser than _Varro_, for we have gotten here three pretty Maids for the +three _Graces_; and as it is not to be thought that _Apollo_ is ever +absent from the Chorus of the _Muses_, we have very much _à propos_ +added the tenth Guest. + +_Ch._ You have spoken very much like a Poet. If I had a Laurel here I +would crown you with it, and you should be Poet Laureat. + +_Au._ If I were crown'd with Mallows, I should be Poet _Maleat_; I do +not arrogate that Honour to myself. This is an Honour that I don't +deserve. + + ------_Haud equidem tali me dignor honore._ + +_Ch._ Will you, every one of you, do as much for me as I will do for +you? + +_Gu._ Ay, that we will with all our Hearts. + +_Ch._ Then let every one drink off his Cup round as I do. Here's to you +first, _Midas_. + +_Mi._ I thank you heartily. I pledge you heartily; for which the Vulgar +says _Præstolor_. Indeed I won't refuse. I won't refuse any Thing for +your Sake. + +_Ch._ Now do you drink to the rest. + +_Mi. Erasmus_, Half this Cup to you. + +_Er._ I pray it may do you good. May it do you good. Much good may it do +you. _Proficiat_ is an out of the Way Word. + +_Ch._ Why does the Cup stand still? Why does it not go about? Is our +Wine gone? Where are your Eyes, you Rascal? Run quickly, fetch two +Quarts of the same Wine. + +_Boy. Erasmus_, your humble Servant, there is one wants to speak with +you at the Door. + +_Er._ Who is it? + +_Boy._ He says he is one Mr. _More_'s, Man, his Master is come out of +_Britain_, and he desires you would make him a Visit, because he sets +out for _Germany_ to-Morrow by Break of Day. + +_Er. Christian_, gather the Reckoning, for I must be going. + +_Ch._ The Reckoning, most learned _Erasmus_, of this Supper, I will +discharge that. You have no Need to put your Hand in your Pocket. I +thank you that you honour'd me with your Company; but I am sorry you are +called away before the Comedy is ended. + +_Er._ Have I any Thing more to do but to bid you _Farewell and be +merry?_ + +_Ch._ Farewell, we can't take it amiss, because you don't leave a +Shoulder of Mutton for a Sheep's-Head, but go from Friends to a better +Friend. + +_Er._ And I in like Manner return you my Thanks, that you have been so +kind as to invite me to this most pleasant Entertainment. My very good +Friends, fare ye well. Drink heartily, and live merrily. + +_Ch._ Soho, _Dromo_. You, all of you, have sitten still a good While. +Does any Body please to have any Thing else? + +_Gu._ Nothing at all. We have eat very plentifully. + +_Ch._ Then take away these Things, and set on the Desert. Change the +Trenchers and the Plates. Take up my Knife that is fallen down. Pour +some Wine over the Pears. Here are some early ripe Mulberries that grew +in my own Garden. + +_Gu._ They will be the better for being of your own Growth. + +_Ch._ Here are some wheaten Plumbs: See, here are Damascens, a rare +Sight with us: See, here are mellow Apples; and here is a new Sort of an +Apple, the Stock of which I set with my own Hands; and Chestnuts, and +all Kinds of Delicacies, which our Gardens produce plentifully. + +_Au._ But here are no Flowers. + +_Ch._ They are _French_ Entertainments, who love that Sort of Splendor +most that costs least; but that is not my Humour. + +_Au._ 'Tis not only among _Frenchmen_ that you will find those that love +what is of little Cost. + +_Ch._ But hark you, _Austin_, do you think to come off so? What, won't +you pledge me when I drink to you? You ought to have taken off Half the +Cup of him that drank to you. + +_Au._ He excused me for that a great While ago. He discharg'd me of that +Obligation. + +_Ch._ Pray who gave him that Power? The Pope himself can hardly dispense +with this Obligation. You know the ancient Law of Drinking, _Either +drink or go your Way_. + +_Au._ He that an Oath is made to has Power to suspend it, and especially +he, whose Concern it was to have it kept. + +_Ch._ But it is the Duty of all Guests to observe Laws inviolably. + +_Au._ Well, come on, since this is the _German_ Custom, I'll drink what +is left. But what Business have you with me? + +_Ch._ You must pay for all. Why do you look pale? Don't be afraid, you +may do it very easily, do as you have often done, that by some Elegancy +we may rise from Table more learned; nor are you ignorant that the +Ancients over the second Course used to dispute of some more diverting +Subjects. Come on then, by what, and after how many Ways may this +Sentence be vary'd, _Indignum auditu?_ + + + * * * * * + +_It is not worth hearing. The Form._ + +_Au._ You have very fitly made Use of the latter Supine. It is not worth +hearing. It is unworthy to be heard. It is not worthy to be heard. It is +so light it ought not to be heard. It is scarce worth While to relate. +It is not of such Value as to be heard. It is too silly to be heard. It +is not worth While to tell it. + +_Ch._ How many Ways may this Sentence be turn'd, _Magno mihi constat?_ + + * * * * * + +_The Ratio of varying this Sentence._ + +_Magno mihi constat._ + +_Au._ By these Words, _impendo, insumo, impertio, constat_, as: I have +taken Pains much in teaching you. I have taken much Pains in that +Matter. I have not spent less Money than I have Care upon that Matter. I +have not spent a little Money, but much Time, and very much Labour, and +some Study. I have spent much Study. This Thing has cost me many a +Night's Sleep, much Sweat, much Endeavour, very much Labour, a great +Expence, a great Deal of Money. It has cost me more than you believe. My +Wife stands me in less than my Horse. + +_Ch._ But what is the meaning, _Austin_, that you put sometimes an +Ablative, and sometimes a Genitive Case to the Verb _constat_? + +_Au._ You have stated a very useful and very copious Question. But that +I may not be troublesome to the Company by my too much Talk, I will +dispatch it in a few Words. But I desire to hear every Man's Opinion, +that I may not be troublesome to any Man, as I have said. + +_Ch._ But why may not the Damsels desire the same? + +_Au._ Indeed they do nothing else but hear. I'll attempt it with +_Grammatica_'s Assistance. "You know that Verbs of buying and selling, +and some others, are of a like Signification, to which these Genitives +are put alone, without Substantives, _tanti, quanti, pluris, minoris, +tantidem, quantivis, quanticunque_: But in Case Substantives be not +added, which, if they happen to be put, they are both turned into the +Ablative Case; so that if a certain Price be set down, you put it in the +Ablative Case; if by an Adjective put substantively, you put it in the +Ablative Case, unless you had rather make Use of an Adverb." + +_Ch._ What are those Verbs that you speak of? + +_Au._ "They are commonly _emo, mereor; redimo_, (that is a Thing either +taken or lost) _vendo, venundo; revendo_, (that is, I sell again that +which was sold to me) _veneo_, (that is, I am sold) whose Prater Tense +is _venivi_, or _venii_, the Supine _venum_; hence comes _venalis_; and +from that, _i.e._ _vendo_, comes _vendibilis; mereo_, for _inservio et +stipendium_ _facio_, _i.e._ to serve under (as a Soldier). _Comparo_, +that is, to buy, or commit. _Computo_, I change, I exchange with. +_Cambire_ is wholly barbarous in this Sense. _Æstimo_, to tax. _Indico_, +for I estimate, rate. _Liceor, liceris; licitor, licitaris_, to cheapen, +to bid. _Distrahor_, _i.e._ I am carried about to be sold. _Metior_, for +I estimate or rate. _Constat_, for it is bought. _Conducere_, to let to +hire. _Fænero_, I put to Interest. _Fæneror_, I take at Interest (to +Usury.) _Paciscor, pactus sum pango, pepigi_, _i.e._ I make a Bargain." + +_Ch._ Give an Example. + + * * * * * + +_Of selling and buying._ + +_The Forms._ + +_Au._ How much do you lett that Field for by the Year. We will answer. +For twenty _French_ Pounds. Whoo! You lett it too dear. Nay, I have lett +it for more before now. But I would not give so much for it. If you hire +it for less I'll be hang'd. Nay, your Neighbour _Chremes_ offer'd me a +Field, and asks for it--How much? Just as much as you ask for yours. +But it is much better. That's a Lye. I do as they use to do who cheapen +a Thing. Do you keep it yourself at that Price. What, do you cheapen, +ask the Price, when you won't buy any Thing. Whatsoever you shall lett +it me for shall be paid you very honestly. + +_Of Selling and Buying._ + +_Another Example._ + +How much do you sell that Conger Eel for? + +_Syra._ For five Pence. That's too much, you nasty Jade. Nay, 'tis too +little, no Body will sell you for less. Upon my Life it cost me as much +within a Trifle. You Witch, you tell a Lie, that you may sell it for +twice or three Times as much as it cost you. Ay, I'll sell it for a +hundred Times as much if I can, but I can't find such Fools. What if I +should ask the Price of yourself? What do you value yourself at? +According as I like the Person. What do you prize yourself at? What +Price do you set upon yourself? Tell me, what Price do you rate yourself +at? Ten Shillings. Whoo, so much? O strange! Do you value me at less? +Time was when I have had as much for one Night. I believe you may, but I +believe you an't now worth so much as a Fish by a great Deal. Go hang +yourself, you Pimp. I value you as little as you do me. He that shall +give a Farthing for you buys you too dear. But I'll be sold for more, or +I won't be sold at all. If you would be sold at a great Rate you must +get you a Mask, for those Wrinkles in your Forehead won't let you be +sold for much. He that won't give so much for me shan't have me. I would +not give a Straw for you. I cost more. + +_A third Example._ + +I have been at an Auction to-Day. Say you so? I bid Money for a Share in +the Customs. But how much? Ten Thousand Pound. Whoo! what, so much? +There were those that bid a great Deal more; very few that offer'd less. +Well, and who had the Place at last? _Chremes_, your Wife's great +Friend. But guess what it was sold for. Ten. Nay, fifteen. O good God! I +would not give Half so much for him and all his Family together. But he +would give twice as much for your Wife. "Do you take Notice, that in all +these, wheresoever there is a Substantive of the Price, that is put in +the Ablative Case; but that the rest are either put in the Genitive +Case, or are changed into Adverbs. You have never heard a Comparative +without a Substantive, except in these two, _pluris_, and _minoris_. +There are some other Verbs, of which we have spoken, that are not very +much unlike these, _sum, facio, habeo, duco, æstimo, pendo_, which +signify (in a Manner) the same Thing; likewise _fio_, and they are for +the most Part join'd with these Genitives, _multi, parvi, magni, pluris, +plurimi, minoris, minimi, maximi, tanti, quanti, flocci, pili, nihili, +nauci, hujus_, and any other like them." _Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Of valuing. The Form._ + +_Au._ Do you know how much I have always valu'd you? You will always be +made of such Account by Men as you make Account of Virtue. Gold is +valued at a great Rate now a-Days, Learning is valued at a very little, +or just nothing at all. I value Gold less than you think for. I don't +value your Threats of a Rush. I make a very little Account of your +Promises. I don't value you of a Hair. If Wisdom were but valued at so +great a Rate as Money, no Body would want Gold. With us, Gold without +Wisdom is esteem'd to be of more Worth than Wisdom without Gold. I +esteem you at a greater Rate, because you are learned. You will be the +less esteem'd on here because you don't know how to lye. Here are a +great many that will persuade you that Black is White. I set the +greater Value upon you because you love Learning. So much as you have, +so much you shall be esteem'd by all Men; so much as you have, so much +you shall be accounted of every where. It is no Matter what you are +accounted, but what you are. I value my _Christian_ above any Man else +in the World. "There are some other Verbs found with these Genitives and +Ablatives, which in their own Nature don't signify buying, or anything +like it." _Peter_ bought a Kiss of the Maid for a Shilling. Much good +may it do him. I would not kiss at that Rate. How much do you play for? +What did you pay for Supper? We read of some that have spent Six hundred +Sesterces for a Supper. But the _French_ often sup for a Half-penny. +What Price does _Faustus_ teach for? A very small Matter. But for more +than _Delius_. For how much then? For nineteen Guineas. I won't learn to +lye at so dear a Rate. _Phædria_ in _Terence_ lost both his Substance +and himself. But I would not love at that Rate. Some Persons pay a great +Price for sleeping. _Demosthenes_ had more for holding his Tongue than +others had for speaking. I pray you to take it in good Part. "There is +another Sort of Verbs, that require an Accusative Case, with a Genitive +or Ablative, which are, _accuso_, _i.e._ I object a Crime, or _culpo_, +also one that's absent; _Incuso_, _i.e._ I blame without Judgment; +_arguo_, I reprehend, _insimulo_, _i.e._ I throw in a Suspicion of a +Fault. _Postulo_, _i.e._ I require you to answer at Law, _accerso_, I +impeach, _damno_, I condemn, I pronounce him to be in Fault. _Admoneo_, +I admonish." + +_Ch._ For Example Sake? + +_Forms of Accusing._ + +_Au. Scipio_ is accused of courting the Populace. Thou who art the most +impudent, accusest me of Impudence. _Lepidus_ is accused of Bribery. You +are accus'd of a capital Crime. If you shall slily insinuate a Man to +be guilty of Covetousness, you shall hear that which is worse again. Put +him in Mind of his former Fortune. Men are put in Mind of their +Condition, by that very Word. Put _Lepidus_ in Mind of his Promise. +"There are many that admit of a double Accusative Case. I teach thee +Letters. He entreats you to pardon him. I will unteach thee those +Manners." + +"Here I must put you in Mind of that Matter, that in these the Passives +also obtain a second Accusative Case. The others will have a Genitive." +You are taught Letters by me. They accuse me of Theft. I am accused of +Theft. Thou accusest me of Sacrilege. I am accused of Sacrilege. I know +you are not satisfied yet. I know you are not satisfied in Mind. For +when will so great a Glutton of Elegancies be satisfy'd? But I must have +Regard to the Company, who are not all equally diverted with these +Matters. After Supper, as we walk, we will finish what is behind, unless +you shall rather chuse to have it omitted. + +_Ch._ Let it be as you say. Let us return Thanks to divine Bounty and +afterwards we'll take a little Walk. + +_Mi._ You say very well, for nothing can be more pleasant, nor wholsome +than this Evening Air. + +_Ch. Peter_, come hither, and take the Things away in Order, one after +the other, and fill the Glasses with Wine. + +_Pe._ Do you bid me return Thanks? + +_Ch._ Aye, do. + +_Pe._ Had you rather it should be done in _Greek_, or in _Latin_. + +_Ch._ Both Ways. + +_Pe. Gratias agimus tibi, pater coelestis, qui tua ineffabili potentia +condidisti omnia, tua inscrutabili sapientia gubernas universa, tua +inexhausta bonitate cuncta pascis ac vegetas: largire filiis tuis, ut +aliquando tecum bibant in regno tuo nectar illud immortalitatis, quod +promisisti ac praeparasti vere diligentibus te, per Iesum Christum. +Amen._ + +We thank thee, heavenly Father, who by thy unspeakable Power, hast +created all Things, and by thy inexhaustible Wisdom governest all +Things, and by thy inexhaustible Goodness feedest and nourishest all +Things: Grant to thy Children, that they may in due Time drink with thee +in thy Kingdom, that _Nectar_ of Immortality; which thou hast promis'd +and prepar'd for those that truly love thee, through Jesus Christ, +_Amen_. + +_Ch._ Say in _Greek_ too, that the rest mayn't understand what thou +sayest. + +_Pe._ [Greek: Heucharistoumen soi, pater ouranie, ho tê arrêtô sou +dunamei ktisas ta panta, ho tê anexereunêtô sou sophia kubernôn +hapaxapanta, ho tê anexantlêtô sou chrêstotêti hekasta trephomenos te +kai auxanon. Charizou tois yiois sou to meta sou pote piein to tês +athanasias nektar, ho upechou kai êtoimasas tois alêthôs agapôsi se, dia +Iêsou Christou, tou yiou sou, tou kyriou hêmôn, tou meta sou zôntos kai +basileuontos en henotêti tou pneumatos hagiou, eis tous aiônas. Amên.] + +_Ch._ My most welcome Guests, I give you Thanks that you have honour'd +my little Entertainment with your Company. I intreat you to accept it +kindly. + +_Gu._ And we would not only have, but return our Thanks to you. Don't +let us be over ceremonious in thanking, but rather let us rise from +Table, and walk out a little. + +_Au._ Let us take these Virgins along with us, so our Walk will be more +pleasant. + +_Ch._ You propose very well. We'll not want Flowers, if the Place we +walk in don't afford any. Had you rather take a Turn in our Garden, in a +poetical Manner, or walk out abroad by the River-Side. + +_Au._ Indeed, your Gardens are very pleasant, but keep that Pleasure for +Morning Walks. When the Sun is towards setting, Rivers afford wonderful +pleasant Prospects. + +_Ch. Austin_, do you walk foremost as a Poet should do, and I'll walk by +your Side. + +_Au._ O good God, what a jolly Company we have, what a Retinue have I! +_Christian_, I can't utter the Pleasure I take, I seem to be some +Nobleman. + +_Ch._ Now be as good as your Word. Perform the Task you have taken upon +you. + +_Au._ What is it you'd have me speak of chiefly? + +_Ch._ I us'd formerly to admire many Things in _Pollio_'s Orations; but +chiefly this, that he us'd so easily, so frequently and beautifully to +turn a Sentence, which seemed not only a great Piece of Wit, but of +great Use. + +_Au._ You were much in the Right on't, _Christian_, to admire that in +_Pollio_. For he seems, in this Matter, to have had a certain divine +Faculty, which I believe, was peculiar to him, by a certain Dexterity of +Art, and by much Use of Speaking, Reading and Writing, rather than by +any Rules or Instructions. + +_Ch._ But I would fain have some Rule for it, if there be any to be +given. + +_Au._ You say very well; and since I see you are very desirous of it, +I'll endeavour it as much as I can: And I will give those Rules, as well +as I can, which I have taken Notice of in _Pollio_'s Orations. + +_Ch._ Do, I should be very glad to hear 'em. + +_Au._ I am ready to do it. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A short Rule concerning this Copia, it teaches how to + vary a Sentence pleasantly, copiously, easily, + frequently, and elegantly; by short Rules given, and by a + Praxis upon these Rules, in an elegant Turning of one + Phrase._ + + +In the first Place, it is to be set forth in pure and choice _Latin_ +Words; which to do is no mean Piece of Art: For there are a great many, +who do, I don't know after what Manner, affect the _Copia_ and Variation +of Phrase, when they don't know how to express it once right. It is not +enough for them to have babbled once, but they must render the Babble +much more babbling, by first one, and then by another turning of it; as +if they were resolv'd to try the Experiment, how barbarously they were +able to speak: And therefore, they heap together, certain simple +synonymous Words, that are so contrary one to the other, that they may +admire themselves how they do agree together. For what is more absurd, +than that a ragged old Fellow, that has not a Coat to his Back, but what +is so ragged that he may be ashamed to put it on, should every now and +then change his Rags, as though he design'd to shew his Beggary by Way +of Ostentation: And those Affectators of Variety seem equally +ridiculous, who, when they have spoken barbarously once, repeat the same +Thing much more barbarously; and then over and over again much more +unlearnedly. This is not to abound with Sentences, but Solæcisms: +Therefore, in the first Place, as I have said, the Thing is to be +express'd in apt and chosen Words. 2. And then we must use Variety of +Words, if there are any to be found, that will express the same Thing; +and there are a great many. 3. And where proper Words are wanting, then +we must use borrow'd Words, so the Way of borrowing them be modest. 4. +Where there is a Scarcity of Words, you must have Recourse to Passives, +to express what you have said by Actives; which will afford as many Ways +of Variation, as there were in the Actives. 5. And after that, if you +please, you may turn them again by verbal Nouns and Participles. 6. And +last of all, when we have chang'd Adverbs into Nouns, and Nouns +sometimes into one Part of Speech, and sometimes into another; then we +may speak by contraries. 7. We may either change affirmative Sentences +into negative, or the contrary. 8. Or, at least, what we have spoken +indicatively, we may speak interrogatively. Now for Example Sake, let us +take this Sentence. + + _Literæ tuæ magnopere me delectârunt. + + Your Letters have delighted me very much._ + +_Litertæ._ + +Epistle, little Epistles, Writings, Sheets, Letters. + +_Magnopere._ + +After a wonderful Manner, wonderfully, in a greater, or great Manner, in +a wonderful Manner, above Measure, very much, not indifferently (not a +little) mightily, highly, very greatly. + +_Me._ + +My Mind, my Breast, my Eyes, my Heart, _Christian_. + +_Delectârunt._ + +They have affected, recreated, exhilarated with Pleasure, have been a +Pleasure, have delighted, have bath'd me with Pleasure; have been very +sweet, very pleasant, &c. + +Now you have Matter, it is your Business to put it together: Let us try. + +_Ch._ Thy Letters have very greatly delighted me. Thy Epistle has +wonderfully chear'd me. + +_Au._ Turn the Active into a Passive, then it will look with another +Face. As, It can't be said how much I have been chear'd by thy Writings. + +_Also by other Verbs effecting the same Thing._ + +I have received an incredible Pleasure from thy Writings. I have +receiv'd very much Pleasure from your Highness's Letter. Your Writings +have brought me not an indifferent Joy. Your Writings have overwhelmed +me all over with Joy. "But here you can't turn these into Passives, only +in the last, _perfusus gaudio_, as is commonly said, Pleasure was taken +by me, Joy was brought, is not so commonly used, or you must not use so +frequently." + +_By Affido._ + +Thy Letter hath affected me with a singular Pleasure. + +_Change it into a Passive._ + +I am affected with an incredible Pleasure by thy Letter. Thy little +Epistle has brought not a little Joy. + +_By_ Sum _and Nouns Adjectives._ + +Thy Letters have been most pleasant to me many Ways. That Epistle of +thine was, indeed, as acceptable, as any Thing in the World. + +_By Nouns Substantives._ + +Thy Letter was to us an unspeakable Pleasure. Your Letter was an +incredible Pleasure to us. + +_Change it into a Negative._ + +Thy Letter was no small Joy. Nothing in Life could happen more +delightful than thy Letters. "Although I have sometimes already made Use +of this Way, which is not to be pass'd over negligently. For when we +would use _multum, plurimum_, to signify, _singulariter_, we do it by a +contrary Verb." As, _Henry_ loves you mightily: He loves you with no +common Love. Wine pleases me very much: It pleases me not a little. He +is a Man of a singular Wit: A Man of no ordinary Wit. He is a Man of +admirable Learning: He is a Man not of contemptible Learning. _Thomas_ +was born in the highest Place of his Family: Not in the lowest Place. +_Austin_ was a most eloquent Man: He was not ineloquent. _Carneades_ the +Orator was noble: Not an ignoble, not an obscure Man. "And the like, +which are very frequently used." But the Mention of a Thing so plain is +enough: Nor are you ignorant, that we make Use of a two-fold Manner of +Speech, of this Kind: For Modesty Sake, especially, if we speak of our +selves; also for Amplification Sake. For we use rightly and elegantly, +not ungrateful, for very grateful; not vulgarly for singularly. + +_For Modesty Sake._ + +I have by my Letters gain'd some Reputation of Learning. I have always +made it my Business not to have the last Place in the Glory of Learning. +The Examples of Amplification are mention'd before: Now let us return to +our own. Nothing ever fell out to me more gratefully, acceptably, than +thy Letter. Nothing ever was a greater Pleasure than your Letter. I +never took so much Pleasure in any Thing, as in thy most loving Letters. +"After this Manner all the before-mention'd Sentences may be vary'd by +an Interrogation." What in Life could be more pleasant than thy Letters? +What has happened to me more sweet, than thy Letter? What has ever +delighted me like your last Letter? And after this Manner you may vary +almost any Sentence. + +_Ch._ What shall we do now? + +_Au._ We will now turn the whole Sentence a little more at large, that +we may express one Sentence, by a Circumlocution of many Words. + +_Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Au._ "That which was sometimes express'd by the Noun _incredibile_, and +then again, by the Adverb _incredibiliter_, we will change the Sentence +in some Words." I can't express how much I was delighted with your +Letters. It is very hard for me to write, and you to believe how much +Pleasure your Letter was to me. I am wholly unable to express how I +rejoic'd at your Letter. "And so _in infinitum_: Again, after another +Manner. For hitherto we have varied the Sentences by Negations and +Interrogations, and in the last Place by Infinitives. Now we will vary +by Substantives or Conditionals, after this Manner." Let me die if any +Thing ever was more desired and more pleasant than thy Letters. Let me +perish if any Thing ever was more desired, and more pleasant than thy +Letter. As God shall judge me, nothing in my whole Life ever happen'd +more pleasant than thy Letters. "And also a great many more you may +contrive after this Manner." + +_Ch._ What is to be done now? + +_Au._ Now we must proceed to Translations, Similitudes and Examples. + +_There is a Translation in these._ + +I have received your Letters, which were sweet as Honey. Your Writings +seem to be nothing but meer Delight. Your Letters are a meer Pleasure; +and a great many of the like Kinds. "But Care is to be taken not to make +Use of harder Translations; such as this that follows, + + _Jupiter hybernas canâ nive conspuit Alpes._ + +such as this is." The Suppers of thy Writings have refreshed me with +most delicious Banquets. + +_A Comparison by Simile._ + +Thy Writings have been sweeter than either _Ambrosia_ or _Nectar_. Thy +Letters have been sweeter to me than any Honey. Your kind Letter has +excell'd even Liquorish, Locusts, and _Attic_ Honey, and Sugar; nay, +even the _Nectar_ and _Ambrosia_ of the Gods. "And here, whatsoever is +ennobled with Sweetness, may be brought into the Comparison." + +_From Examples._ + +I will never be induc'd to believe, that _Hero_ receiv'd the Letters of +her _Leander_, either with greater Pleasure, or more Kisses, than I +received yours. I can scarce believe that _Scipio_, for the Overthrow of +_Carthage_, or _Paulus Æmylius_, for the taking of _Perseus_, ever +triumphed more magnificently than I did, when the Post-man gave me your +most charming Letter. "There are a thousand Things of this Nature, that +may be found in Poets and Historians. Likewise Similitudes are borrow'd +from Natural Philosophy; the Nature of a great many of which, it is +necessary to keep in Memory. Now if you please, we will try in another +Sentence." + +_I will never forget you while I live._ + +I will always remember you, as long as I live. Forgetfulness of you, +shall never seize me as long as I live. I will leave off to live, before +I will to remember you. + +_By Comparisons._ + +If the Body can get rid of its Shadow, then this Mind of mine may forget +you. The River _Lethe_ itself shall never be able to wash away your +Memory. + +"Besides, by an Impossibility, or after the Manner of Poets by +contraries. + + _Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit. + Ante leves ergo pastentur in athere cervi._ + +which is no hard Matter to invent." But lest I should seem tedious, at +the present let these suffice: At another Time, if you please, we will +talk more copiously of this Matter. + +_Ch._ I thought, _Austin_, you had been quite exhausted by this Time. +But thou hast shewn me a new Treasure beyond what I expected, which if +you shall pursue, I perceive you'll sooner want Time than Words. + +_Au._ If I can perform this with my little Learning, and indifferent +Genius, what do you think _Cicero_ himself could do, who is storied to +have vy'd with _Roscius_ the Player? But the Sun is going to leave us; +and the Dew rises; it is best to imitate the Birds, to go Home, and hide +ourselves in Bed. Therefore, sweet _Christian_, farewell till to Morrow. + +_Ch._ Fare you well likewise, most learned _Austin._ + + + + +_The RELIGIOUS TREAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This religious Treat teaches what ought to be the + Table-Talk of Christians. The Nature of Things is not + dumb, but very loquacious, affording Matter of + Contemplation. The Description of a neat Garden, where + there is a Variety of Discourse concerning Herbs. Of + Marjoram, Celandine, Wolfs-Bane, Hellebore. Of Beasts, + Scorpions, the Chamæleon, the Basilisk; of Sows_, Indian + _Ants, Dolphins, and of the Gardens of_ Alcinous. _Tables + were esteemed sacred by the very Heathens themselves. Of + washing Hands before Meat. A Grace before Meat out of_ + Chrysostom. _Age is to be honoured, and for what Reason. + The Reading of the Scriptures very useful at Meals. That + Lay Persons may Discourse concerning the Scriptures. The + 21st of_ Prov. _and 1st_ Ver. _illustrated. How God hates + Sacrifices, in Comparison of Mercy_, Hos. 6. _No Body is + hurt but by himself. That Persons in Wine speak true. + That it was unlawful for the_ Ægyptian _Priests to drink + Wine. The_ I Cor. 6. _opened. All Things are lawful for + me. The Spirit of Christ was in the Heathens and Poets._ + Scotus _is slighted in Comparison of_ Cicero _and_ + Plutarch. _A Place is cited out of_ Cicero _and_ Cato + Major, _and commended;_ dare omni petenti, give to every + one that asketh, _how it is to be understood. We ought + to give to Christ's Poor, and not to Monasteries. The + Custom of burying in Churches blam'd. That we ought to + give by Choice, how much, to whom, and to what End. We + ought to deny ourselves of something that we may give it + to the Poor_. No Body can serve two Masters, _is + explained. A Grace after Meat out of St._ Chrysostom. + + +EUSEBIUS, TIMOTHY, THEOPHILUS, CHRYSOGLOTTUS, URANIUS, SOPHRONIUS, +EULALIUS, THEODIDACTUS, NEPHALIUS. + +_Eu._ I admire that any Body can delight to live in smoaky Cities, when +every Thing is so fresh and pleasant in the Country. + +_Ti._ All are not pleased with the Sight of Flowers, springing Meadows, +Fountains, or Rivers: Or, if they do take a Pleasure in 'em, there is +something else, in which they take more. For 'tis with Pleasure, as it +is with Wedges, one drives out another. + +_Eu._ You speak perhaps of Usurers, or covetous Traders; which, indeed, +are all one. + +_Ti._ I do speak of them; but not of them only, I assure you; but of a +thousand other Sorts of People, even to the very Priests and Monks, who +for the Sake of Gain, make Choice of the most populous Cities for their +Habitation, not following the Opinion of _Plato_ or _Pythagoras_ in this +Practice; but rather that of a certain blind Beggar, who loved to be +where he was crowded; because, as he said, the more People, the more +Profit. + +_Eu._ Prithee let's leave the blind Beggar and his Gain: We are +Philosophers. + +_Ti._ So was _Socrates_ a Philosopher, and yet he preferr'd a Town Life +before a Country one; because, he being desirous of Knowledge, had there +the Opportunity of improving it. In the Country, 'tis true, there are +Woods, Gardens, Fountains and Brooks, that entertain the Sight, but +they are all mute, and therefore teach a Man nothing. + +_Eu._ I know _Socrates_ puts the Case of a Man's walking alone in the +Fields; although, in my Opinion, there Nature is not dumb, but talkative +enough, and speaks to the Instruction of a Man that has but a good Will, +and a Capacity to learn. What does the beautiful Face of the Spring do, +but proclaim the equal Wisdom and Goodness of the Creator? And how many +excellent Things did _Socrates_ in his Retirement, both teach his +_Phædrus_, and learn from him? + +_Ti._ If a Man could have such pleasant Company, I confess, no life in +the World could be pleasanter than a Country Life. + +_Eu._ Have you a Mind to make Tryal of it? If you have, come take a +Dinner with me to Morrow: I have a pretty neat little Country House, a +little Way out of Town. + +_Ti._ We are too many of us; we shall eat you out of House and Home. + +_Eu._ Never fear that, you're to expect only a Garden Treat, of such +Chear as I need not go to Market for. The Wine is of my own Growth; the +Pompions, the Melons, the Figs, the Pears, the Apples and Nuts, are +offered to you by the Trees themselves; you need but gape, and they'll +fall into your Mouth, as it is in the _fortunate Islands_, if we may +give Credit to _Lucian_. Or, it may be, we may get a Pullet out of the +Hen-roost, or so. + +_Ti._ Upon these Terms we'll be your Guests. + +_Eu._ And let every Man bring his Friend along with him, and then, as +you now are four, we shall be the just Number of the Muses. + +_Ti._ A Match. + +_Eu._ And take Notice, that I shall only find Meat, you are to bring +your own Sauce. + +_Ti._ What Sauce do you mean, Pepper, or Sugar? + +_Eu._ No, no, something that's cheaper, but more savoury. + +_Ti._ What's that? + +_Eu._ A good Stomach. A light Supper to Night, and a little Walk to +Morrow Morning, and that you may thank my Country House for. But at what +Hour do you please to dine at? + +_Ti._ At ten a Clock. Before it grows too hot. + +_Eu._ I'll give Order accordingly. + +_Boy._ Sir, the Gentlemen are come. + +_Eu._ You are welcome, Gentlemen, that you are come according to your +Words; but you're twice as welcome for coming so early, and bringing the +best of Company along with you. There are some Persons who are guilty of +an unmannerly Civility, in making their Host wait for them. + +_Ti._ We came the earlier, that we might have Time enough to view all +the Curiosities of your Palace; for we have heard that it is so +admirably contrived every where, as that it speaks who's the Master of +it. + +_Eu._ And you will see a Palace worthy of such a Prince. This little +Nest is to me more than a Court, and if he may be said to reign that +lives at Liberty according to his Mind, I reign here. But I think it +will be best, while the Wench in the Kitchen provides us a Salad, and it +is the cool of the Morning, to take a Walk to see the Gardens. + +_Ti._ Have you any other beside this? For truly this is a wonderful neat +one, and with a pleasing Aspect salutes a Man at his entring in, and +bids him welcome. + +_Eu._ Let every Man gather a Nosegay, that may put by any worse Scent he +may meet with within Doors. Every one likes not the same Scent, +therefore let every one take what he likes. Don't be sparing, for this +Place lies in a Manner common; I never shut it up but a-Nights. + +_Ti._ St. Peter keeps the Gates, I perceive. + +_Eu._ I like this Porter better than the _Mercuries_, Centaurs, and +other fictitious Monsters, that some paint upon their Doors. + +_Ti._ And 'tis more suitable to a Christian too. + +_Eu._ Nor is my Porter dumb, for he speaks to you in Three Languages. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ Read it yourself. + +_Ti._ It is too far off for my Eyes. + +_Eu._ Here's a reading Glass, that will make you another _Lynceus._ + +_Ti._ I see the Latin. _Si vis ad vitam ingredi, serva mandata_, Mat. +19, 17. If thou wilt, enter into Life, keep the Commandments. + +_Eu._ Now read the _Greek_. + +_Ti._ I see the _Greek_, but I don't well know what to make on't; I'll +refer that to _Theophilus_, who's never without _Greek_ in his Mouth. + +_Th._ [Greek: Metanoêsate kai epistrepsate. Praxeôn tô tritô.] _Repent +and be converted._ Acts 3. 19. + +_Ch._ I'll take the _Hebrew_ upon myself, [Hebrew: vetsadik be'emunato +yihyeh] _And the Just shall live by Faithfulness._ + +_Eu._ Does he seem to be an unmannerly Porter, who at first Dash, bids +us turn from our Iniquities, and apply our selves to Godliness, and then +tells us, that Salvation comes not from the Works of the Law; but from +the Faith of the Gospel; and last of all, that the Way to eternal Life, +is by the Observance of evangelical Precepts. + +_Ti._ And see the Chapel there on the right Hand that he directs us to, +it is a very fine one. Upon the Altar there's _Jesus Christ_ looking up +to Heaven, and pointing with his right Hand towards God the Father, and +the holy Spirit; and with his Left, he seems to court and invite all +Comers. + +_Eu._ Nor is he mute: You see the _Latin; Ego sum via, veritas, et vita; +I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life._ [Greek: Egô eimi to alpha kai to +ômega.] In _Hebrew_, [Hebrew: Lechu banim shim'uh li, yr'at adonai +alamdeichem] _Come, ye Children, hearken unto me; I will teach you the +fear of the Lord._ + +_Ti._ Truly the Lord _Jesus_ salutes us with a good Omen. + +_Eu._ But that we may not seem uncivil, it is meet that we pay back an +Acknowledgment, and pray that since we can do nothing of ourselves, he +would vouchsafe of his infinite Goodness to keep us from ever straying +out of the Path of Life; but that we casting away _Jewish_ Ceremonies, +and the Delusions of the World, he would guide us by the Truth of the +Gospel to everlasting Life, drawing us of himself to himself. + +_Ti._ It is most reasonable that we should pray, and the Place invites +us to it. + +_Eu._ The Pleasantness of the Garden draws a great many Persons to it; +and 'tis a rare Thing that any Passes by Jesus without an Ejaculation. I +have made him Keeper, not only of my Garden, but of all my Possessions, +and of both Body and Mind, instead of filthy _Priapus_. Here is you see +a little Fountain pleasantly bubbling with wholsome Waters, this in some +Measure represents that only Fountain of Life, that by its divine +Streams, refreshes all that are weary and heavy laden; which the Soul, +tired with the Evils of this World, pants after, just as the Hart in the +Psalmist does after the Water Brooks, having tasted of the Flesh of +Serpents. From this Fountain, whoever thirsts, may drink _gratis_. Some +make it a Matter of Religion to sprinkle themselves with it; and others +for the Sake of Religion, and not of Thirst, drink of it. You are loath, +I perceive, to leave this Place: But it is Time to go to see this little +square Garden that is wall'd in, 'tis a neater one than the other. What +is to be seen within Doors, you shall see after Dinner, when the Heat of +the Sun keeps us at Home for some Hours like Snails. + +_Ti._ Bless me! What a delightful Prospect is here. + +_Eu._ All this Place was designed for a Pleasure Garden, but for honest +Pleasure; for the Entertainment of the Sight, the recreating the +Nostrils, and refreshing the Mind; nothing grows here but sweet Herbs, +nor every Sort of them, but only choice ones, and every Kind has its Bed +by itself. + +_Ti._ I am now convinced that Plants are not mute with you. + +_Eu._ You are in the Right; others have magnificent Houses, but mine is +made for Conversation, so that I can never be alone in it, and so you'll +say, when you have seen it all. As the several Plants are as it were +form'd into several Troops, so every Troop has its Standard to itself, +with a peculiar Motto, as this Marjoram's is, _Abstine, sus, non tibi +spiro: Keep off, Sow, I don't breathe my Perfume for thee_; for though +it be of a very fragrant Scent, yet Sows have a natural Aversion to it: +And so every Sort has its Title, denoting the peculiar Virtue of the +Plant. + +_Ti._ I have seen nothing yet more delightful than this little Fountain, +which being in the midst of them, does as it were smile upon all the +Plants, and promises them Refreshment against the scorching Heat of the +Sun. But this little Channel which shews the Water to the Eye so +advantageously, and divides the Garden every where at such equal +Distances, that it shews all the Flowers over on both Sides again, as in +a Looking-glass, is it made of Marble? + +_Eu._ Marble, quoth thee, how should Marble come hither? It is a +counterfeit Marble, made of a sort of Loam, and a whitish Colour given +it in the Glasing. + +_Ti._ But where does this delicious Rivulet discharge itself at last? + +_Eu._ Just as it is with human Obligations, when we have served our own +Turns: After this has pleasured our Eyes, it washes our Kitchen, and +passes through the Sink into the common Shore. + +_Ti._ That's very hard-hearted, as I am a Christian. + +_Eu._ It had been hard-hearted, if the divine Bounty of Providence had +not appointed it for this Use. We are then hard-hearted, when we pollute +the Fountain of divine Truth, that is much more pleasant than this, and +was given us for the refreshing and purging our Minds from our Lusts and +vicious Appetites, abusing the unspeakable Bounty of God: For we make no +bad Use of the Water, if we put it to the several Uses for which he +appointed it, who supplies every Thing abundantly for human Use. + +_Ti._ You say right: But how comes it about, that all your artificial +Hedges are green too? + +_Eu._ Because I would have every Thing green here. Some are for a +Mixture of Red, because that sets off Green: But I like this best, as +every Man has his Fancy, though it be but in a Garden. + +_Ti._ The Garden is very fine of itself; but methinks these three Walks +take off very much from the Lightsomeness and Pleasantness of it. + +_Eu._ Here I either study or walk alone, or talk with a Friend, or eat, +as the Humour takes me. + +_Ti._ Those speckled, wonderful, pretty party-coloured Pillars, that at +equal Distances support that Edifice, are they Marble? + +_Eu._ Of the same Marble that this Channel is made of. + +_Ti._ In Truth, a pretty Cheat, I should have sworn they had been +Marble. + +_Eu._ For this Reason then, take Care that you neither believe, nor +swear any Thing rashly: You see how a Man may be mistaken. What I want +in Wealth, I supply by Invention. + +_Ti._ Could you not be content with so neat, and well furnished a Garden +in Substance, without other Gardens in Picture besides? + +_Eu._ In the first Place, one Garden will not hold all Sorts of Plants; +and in the second, 'tis a double Pleasure, to see a painted Flower vie +with the Life; and in one we contemplate the Artifice of Nature, in the +other the Skill of the Painter; and in both, the Goodness of God, who +gives all Things for our Use, in every Thing equally admirable and +amiable: And in the last Place, a Garden is not always green; nor the +Flowers always fresh; but this Garden is fresh and green all the Winter. + +_Ti._ But it is not fragrant. + +_Eu._ But then on the other Hand it wants no dressing. + +_Ti._ It only delights the Eye. + +_Eu._ But then it does that always. + +_Ti._ Pictures themselves grow old. + +_Eu._ They do so; but yet they out-live us; and besides, whereas we are +the worse for Age, they are the better for it. + +_Ti._ That's too true, if it could be otherwise. + +_Eu._ In this Walk that looks toward the West, I take the Benefit of the +Morning Sun; in that which looks toward the East, I take the Cool of the +Evening; in that which looks toward the South, but lies open to the +North, I take Sanctuary against the Heats of the Meridian Sun; but we'll +walk 'em over, if you please, and take a nearer View of them: See how +green 'tis under Foot, and you have the Beauty of painted Flowers in the +very Chequers of the Pavement. This Wood, that you see painted upon this +Wall, affords me a great Variety of Prospect: For in the first Place, as +many Trees as you see, so many Sorts of Trees you see; and all express'd +to the Life. As many Birds as you see, so many Kinds you see; especially +if there be any scarce Ones, and remarkable upon any Account. For as for +Geese, Hens, and Ducks, it is not worth While to draw them. Underneath +are four-footed Creatures, or such Birds as live upon the Ground, after +the Manner of Quadrupedes. + +_Ti._ The Variety indeed is wonderful, and every Thing is in Action, +either doing or saying something. There's an Owl sits peeping through +the Leaves, what says she? + +_Eu._ She speaks _Greek_; she says, [Greek: Sôphronei, ou pasin +hiptêmi], she commands us to act advisedly; _I do not fly to all_; +because an inconsiderate Rashness does not fall out happily to all +Persons. There is an Eagle quarrying upon a Hare, and a Beetle +interceding to no Purpose; there is a Wren stands by the Beetle, and she +is a mortal Enemy to the Eagle. + +_Ti._ What has this Swallow got in her Mouth? + +_Eu._ The Herb Celandine; don't you know the Plant? with it, she +restores Sight to her blind young Ones. + +_Ti._ What odd Sort of Lizard is this? + +_Eu._ It is not a Lizard, but a Chamæleon. + +_Ti._ Is this the Chamæleon, there is so much Talk of? I thought it had +been a Beast twice as big as a Lion, and the Name is twice as long too. + +_En._ This Chamæleon is always gaping, and always hungry. This is a +wild Fig-Tree, and that is his Aversion. He is otherwise harmless; and +yet the little gaping Creature has Poison in him too, that you mayn't +contemn him. + +_Ti._ But I don't see him change his Colour. + +_Eu._ True; because he does not change his Place; when he changes his +Place, you will see him change his Colour too. + +_Ti._ What's the Meaning of that Piper? + +_Eu._ Don't you see a Camel there dancing hard by? + +_Ti._ I see a very pleasant Fancy; the Ape pipes, and the Camel dances. + +_Eu._ But it would require at least three Days to run through the +Particulars one by one; it will be enough at present to take a cursory +View of them. You have in the first Spot, all Sorts of famous Plants +painted to the Life: And to increase the Wonder, here are the strongest +Poisons in the World, which you may not only look upon, but handle too +without Danger. + +_Ti._ Look ye, here is a Scorpion, an Animal very seldom seen in this +Country; but very frequent in _Italy_, and very mischievous too: But the +Colour in the Picture seems not to be natural. + +_Eu._ Why so? + +_Ti._ It seems too pale methinks; for those in _Italy_ are blacker. + +_Eu._ Don't you know the Herb it has fallen upon? + +_Ti._ Not very well. + +_Eu._ That's no Wonder, for it does not grow in these Parts: It is +Wolf's-bane, so deadly a Poison, that upon the very touch of it, a +Scorpion is stupified, grows pale, and yields himself overcome; but when +he is hurt with one Poison, he seeks his Remedy with another. Do you see +the two Sorts of Hellebore hard by; if the Scorpion can but get himself +clear of the Wolf's-bane, and get to the white Hellebore, he recovers +his former Vigour, by the very Touch of a different Poison. + +_Ti._ Then the Scorpion is undone, for he is never like to get off from +the Wolfs'-bane. But do Scorpions speak here? + +_Eu._ Yes, they do, and speak _Greek_ too. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ [Greek: Eure theos ton alitron], _God hath found out the Guilty._ +Here besides the Grass, you see all Sorts of Serpents. Here is the +Basilisk, that is not only formidable for his Poison; but the very Flash +of his Eyes is also mortal. + +_Ti._ And he says something too. + +_Eu._ Yes, he says, _Oderint, dum metuant; Let them hate me, so they +fear me._ + +_Ti._ Spoken like a King entirely. + +_Eu._ Like a Tyrant rather, not at all like a King. Here a Lizard fights +with a Viper, and here lies the _Dipsas_ Serpent upon the Catch, hid +under the Shell of an _Estridge_ Egg. Here you see the whole Policy of +the Ant, which we are call'd upon to imitate by _Solomon_ and _Horace_. +Here are _Indian_ Ants that carry Gold, and hoard it up. + +_Ti._ O good God! how is it possible for a Man to be weary of this +Entertainment. + +_Eu._ And yet at some other Time you shall see I'll give you your Belly +full of it. Now look before you at a Distance, there is a third Wall, +where you have Lakes, Rivers, and Seas, and all Sorts of rare Fishes. +This is the River _Nile_, in which you see the _Dolphin_, that natural +Friend to Mankind, fighting with a _Crocodile_, Man's deadly Enemy. Upon +the Banks and Shores you see several amphibious Creatures, as Crabs, +Seals, Beavers. Here is a Polypus, a Catcher catch'd by an Oyster. + +_Ti._ What does he say? [Greek: airôn airoumai]; _The Taker taken._ The +Painter has made the Water wonderfully transparent. + +_Eu._ If he had not done so, we should have wanted other Eyes. Just by +there's another Polypus playing upon the Face of the Sea like a little +Cock-Boat; and there you see a Torpedo lying along upon the Sands, both +of a Colour, you may touch them here with your Hand without any Danger. +But we must go to something else, for these Things feed the Eye, but not +the Belly. + +_Ti._ Have you any more to be seen then? + +_Eu._ You shall see what the Back-side affords us by and by. Here's an +indifferent large Garden parted: The one a Kitchen Garden, that is my +Wife's and the Family's; the other is a Physick Garden, containing the +choicest physical Herbs. At the left Hand there is an open Meadow, that +is only a green Plot enclos'd with a quick-set Hedge. There sometimes I +take the Air, and divert myself with good Company. Upon the right Hand +there's an Orchard, where, when you have Leisure, you shall see a great +Variety of foreign Trees, that I have brought by Degrees to endure this +Climate. + +_Ti._ O wonderful! the King himself has not such a Seat. + +_Eu._ At the End of the upper Walk there's an Aviary, which I'll shew +you after Dinner, and there you'll see various Forms, and hear various +Tongues, and their Humours are as various. Among some of them there is +an Agreeableness and mutual Love, and among others an irreconcilable +Aversion: And then they are so tame and familiar, that when I'm at +Supper, they'll come flying in at the Window to me, even to the Table, +and take the Meat out of my Hands. If at any Time I am upon the +Draw-Bridge you see there, talking, perhaps with a Friend, they'll some +of them sit hearkening, others of them will perch upon my Shoulders or +Arms, without any Sort of Fear, for they find that no Body hurts them. +At the further End of the Orchard I have my Bees, which is a Sight worth +seeing. But I must not show you any more now, that I may have something +to entertain you with by and by. I'll shew you the rest after Dinner. + +_Boy._ Sir, my Mistress and Maid say that the Dinner will be spoil'd. + +_Eu._ Bid her have a little Patience, and we'll come presently. My +friends, let us wash, that we may come to the Table with clean Hands as +well as Hearts. The very _Pagans_ us'd a Kind of Reverence in this Case; +how much more then should _Christians_ do it; if it were but in +Imitation of that sacred Solemnity of our Saviour with his Disciples at +his last Supper: And thence comes the Custom of washing of Hands, that +if any Thing of Hatred, Ill-Will, or any Pollution should remain in the +Mind of any one, he might purge it out, before he sits down at the +Table. For it is my Opinion, that the Food is the wholesomer for the +Body, if taken with a purified Mind. + +_Ti._ We believe that it is a certain Truth. + +_Eu. Christ_ himself gave us this Example, that we should sit down to +the Table with a Hymn; and I take it from this, that we frequently read +in the Evangelists, that he bless'd or gave Thanks to his Father before +he broke Bread, and that he concluded with giving of Thanks: And if you +please, I'll say you a Grace that St. _Chrysostom_ commends to the Skies +in one of his Homilies, which he himself interpreted. + +_Ti._ We desire you would. + +_Eu._ Blessed be thou, O God, who has fed me from my Youth up, and +providest Food for all Flesh: Fill thou our Hearts with Joy and +Gladness, that partaking plentifully of thy Bounty, we may abound to +every good Work, through _Christ Jesus_ our Lord, with whom, to thee and +the Holy Ghost, be Glory, Honour, and Power, World without End. _Amen._ + +_Eu._ Now sit down, and let every Man take his Friend next him: The +first Place is yours, _Timothy_, in Right of your Grey Hairs. + +_Ti._ The only Thing in the World that gives a Title to it. + +_Eu._ We can only judge of what we see, and must leave the rest to God. +_Sophronius_, keep you close to your Principal. _Theophilus_ and +_Eulalius_, do you take the right Side of the Table; _Chrysoglottus_ and +_Theodidactus_ they shall have the left. _Uranius_ and _Nephalius_ must +make a Shift with what is left. I'll keep this Corner. + +_Ti._ This must not be, the Master of the House ought to take the first +Place. + +_Eu._ The House is as much yours as mine, Gentlemen; however, if I may +rule within my own Jurisdiction, I'll sit where I please, and I have +made my Choice already. Now may Christ, the Enlivener of all, and +without whom nothing can be pleasant, vouchsafe to be with us, and +exhilarate our Minds by his Presence. + +_Ti._ I hope he will be pleased so to do; but where shall he sit, for +the Places are all taken up? + +_Eu._ I would have him in every Morsel and Drop that we eat and drink; +but especially, in our Minds. And the better to fit us for the Reception +of so divine a Guest, if you will, you shall have some Portion of +Scripture read in the Interim; but so that you shall not let that hinder +you from eating your Dinner heartily. + +_Ti._ We will eat heartily, and attend diligently. + +_Eu._ This Entertainment pleases me so much the better, because it +diverts vain and frivolous Discourse, and affords Matter of profitable +Conversation: I am not of their Mind, who think no Entertainment +diverting, that does not abound with foolish wanton Stories, and bawdy +Songs. There is pure Joy springs from a clear and pure Conscience; and +those are the happy Conversations, where such Things are mentioned, that +we can reflect upon afterwards with Satisfaction and Delight; and not +such as we shall afterwards be ashamed of, and have Occasion to repent +of. + +_Ti._ It were well if we were all as careful to consider those Things as +we are sure they are true. + +_Eu._ And besides, these Things have not only a certain and valuable +Profit in them, but one Month's Use of them, would make them become +pleasant too. + +_Ti._ And therefore it is the best Course we can take to accustom +ourselves to that which is best. + +_Eu._ Read us something, Boy, and speak out distinctly. + +_Boy._ Prov. xxi. _The King's Heart is in the Hand of the Lord; as the +Rivers of Waters, he turneth it whither soever he will. Every Man is +right in his own Eyes, but the Lord pondereth the Hearts. To do Justice +and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than Sacrifice_, ver. 1, 2, +3. + +_Eu._ Hold there, that's enough; for it is better to take down a little +with an Appetite, than to devour more than a Man can digest. + +_Ti._ 'Tis better, I must confess, in more Cases than this: _Pliny_ +would have one never have _Tully's_ Offices out of ones Hand; and in my +Opinion, it were well if all Persons, but especially Statesmen, had him +every Word by Heart: And as for this little Book of Proverbs, I have +always look'd upon it the best Manual we can carry about with us. + +_Eu._ I knew our Dinner would be unsavoury, and therefore I procured +this Sauce. + +_Ti._ Here is nothing but what is very good; but if you had given us +this Lecture to a Dish of Beets only, without either Pepper, Wine or +Vinegar, it would have been a delicious Treat. + +_Eu._ I could commend it with a better Grace, if I did but perfectly +understand what I have heard. And I would we had some able Divine among +us, that did not only understand it, but would thoroughly expound it. +But I don't know how far it may be lawful for us Laymen to descant upon +these Matters. + +_Ti._ Indeed, I see no Hurt in't, even for a _Tarpawlin_ to do it, +abating the Rashness of passing Sentence in the Case. And who knows but +that _Christ_ himself (who has promis'd to be present, where two or +three are gathered together in his Name) may vouchsafe his Assistance to +us, that are a much larger Congregation. + +_Eu._ What if we should take these three Verses, and divide 'em among us +nine Guests? + +_Guests._ We like it well, provided the Master of the Feast lead the +Way. + +_Eu._ I would not refuse it; but that I am afraid I shall entertain you +worse in my Exposition, than I do in my Dinner: But however, Ceremony +apart, that I may not seem to want much Persuasion, omitting other +Meanings that Interpreters put upon the Place: This seems to me to be +the moral Sense; "That private Men may be wrought upon by Admonition, +Reproofs, Laws and Menaces; but Kings who are above Fear, the more they +are opposed, the fiercer their Displeasure; and therefore Kings, as +often as they are resolutely bent upon any, should be left to +themselves: Not in respect of any Confidence of the Goodness of their +Inclinations; but because God many Times makes Use of their Follies and +Wickedness, as the Instruments for the Punishment of the Wicked." As he +forbad that _Nebuchodonosor_ should be resisted, because he had +determin'd to chastise his People by him, as an Instrument. And +peradventure, that which _Job_ says, looks this Way: _Who maketh the +Hypocrite reign for the Sins of his People._ And perhaps, that which +_David_ says, bewailing his Sin, has the same Tendency: _Against thee +only have I sinned, and done this Evil in thy Sight:_ Not as if the +Iniquity of Kings were not fatal to the People; but because there is +none that has Authority to condemn them, but God, from whose Judgment +there is indeed no Appeal, be the Person never so great. + +_Ti._ I like the Interpretation well enough thus far; but what is meant +by _the Rivers of Waters?_ + +_Eu._ There is a Similitude made Use of that explains it. The Wrath of a +King is impetuous and unruly, and not to be led this Way or that Way, +but presses forward with a restless Fury: As the Sea spreads itself over +the Land, and flows sometimes this Way, and sometimes that Way, not +sparing Pastures nor Palaces, and sometimes buries in its own Bowels all +that stands in its Way; and if you should attempt to stop its Course, or +to turn it another Way, you may e'en as well let it alone: Whereas, let +it but alone, and it will sink of itself, as it happens in many great +Rivers, as is storied of _Achelous._ There is less Injury done by +quietly yielding, than by violently resisting. + +_Ti._ Is there no Remedy then against the Unruliness of wicked Kings? + +_Eu._ The first will be, not to receive a Lion into the City: The +second, is to tie him up by parliamentary and municipal Laws, that he +can't easily break out into Tyranny: But the best of all would be, to +train him up from his Childhood, in the Principles of Piety and Virtue, +and to form his Will, before he understands his Power. Good Counsels and +Persuasions go a great Way, provided they be seasonable and gentle. But +the last Resort must be to beg of God, to incline the King's Heart to +those Things that are becoming a Christian King. + +_Ti._ Do you excuse yourself, because you are a Layman? If I were a +Batchelor in Divinity, I should value myself upon this Interpretation. + +_Eu._ I can't tell whether it is right or wrong, it is enough for me if +it were not impious or heretical. However, I have done what you required +of me; and now, according to the Rules of Conversation, 'tis my Turn to +hear your Opinion. + +_Ti._ The Compliment you pass'd upon my grey Hairs, gives me some kind +of Title to speak next to the Text, which will bear yet a more +mysterious Meaning. + +_Eu._ I believe it may, and I should be glad to hear it. + +_Ti._ "By the Word King, may be meant, a Man so perfected, as to have +wholly subdued his Lusts, and to be led by the Impulse of the Divine +Spirit only. Now perhaps it may not be proper to tie up such a Person to +the Conditions of human Laws; but to leave him to his Master, by whom he +is govern'd: Nor is he to be judg'd according to the Measures by which +the Frailty of imperfect Men advances towards true Holiness; but if he +steers another Course, we ought to say with St. _Paul, God hath accepted +him, and to his own Master he stands or falls. He that is spiritual, +judgeth of all Things, but he himself is judged of no Man_." To such, +therefore, let no Man prescribe; for the Lord, who hath appointed Bounds +to the Seas and Rivers, hath the Heart of the King in his Hand, and +inclines it which Way soever it pleases him: What need is there to +prescribe to him, that does of his own accord better Things than human +Laws oblige him to? Or, how great a Rashness were it, to bind that +Person by human Constitutions, who, it is manifest, by evident Tokens, +is directed by the Inspirations of the Holy Spirit. + +_Eu._ O _Timothy_, thou hast not only got grey Hairs on this Head, but +you have likewise a Mind venerable for experimental Knowledge. And I +would to God, that we had more such Kings as this King of yours among +Christians, who, indeed, all of them ought to be such. But we have dwelt +long enough upon our Eggs and Herbs; let them be taken away, and +something else set in their Room. + +_Ti._ We have done so well already on this Ovation, that there is no +Need of any more, either of Supplication or Triumph. + +_Eu._ But since, by God's Assistance, we have succeeded so well in the +first Verse, I wish your _Umbra_ would explain the other, which seems to +me a little more obscure. + +_Soph._ If you'll put a good Construction upon what I shall say, I will +give you my Thoughts upon it. How else can a Shadow pretend to give +Light to any Thing? + +_Eu._ I undertake that for all the Company; such Shadows as you give as +much Light as our Eyes will well bear. + +_Soph._ The same Thing seems to be meant here, that _Paul_ says: _That +there are several Ways of Life, that lead to Holiness_. Some affect the +Ministry, some Celibacy, others a married State; some a retired Life, +others publick Administrations of the Government, according to the +various Dispositions of their Bodies and Minds: Again, to one Man all +Meats are indifferent, another puts a Difference betwixt this Meat and +that; another he makes a Difference of Days, another thinks every Day +alike. In these Things St. _Paul_ would have every one enjoy his own +Freedom of Mind, without reproaching another; nor should we censure any +Man in those Cases, but leave him to be judg'd by him that weigheth the +Heart. It oftentimes happens, that he that eats may be more acceptable +to God, than he that forbears; and he that breaks a Holy-day, than he +that seems to observe it; and he that marries, is more acceptable to +God, than a great many that live single. I who am but a Shadow, have +spoken my Mind. + +_Eu._ I wish I could have Conversation with such Shadows often. I think +you have hit the Nail on the Head: But here is one that has lived a +Batchelor, and not of the Number of Saints, who have made themselves +Eunuchs for the Sake of the Kingdom of God but was made so by force, to +gratify our Bellies, _till God shall destroy both them and Meats_. It is +a Capon of my own feeding. I am a great Lover of boil'd Meats. This is a +very good Soop, and these are choice Lettuces that are in it. Pray every +one help himself to what he likes best. But that you may not be +deceiv'd, I tell you, that we have a Course of Roast a coming, and after +that some small Desert, and so conclude. + +_Ti._ But we exclude your Wife from Table. + +_Eu._ When you bring your own Wives, mine shall keep them Company. She +would, if she were here, be nothing but a Mute in our Company. She talks +with more Freedom among the Women, and we are more at Liberty to +philosophise. And besides that, there would be Danger, lest we should be +serv'd as _Socrates_ was, when he had several Philosophers at Table with +him, who took more Pleasure in talking than they did in eating, and held +a long Dispute, had all their Meat thrown on the Floor by _Xantippe_, +who in a Rage overturn'd the Table. + +_Ti._ I believe you have nothing of that to be afraid of: She's one of +the best-humour'd Women in the World. + +_Eu._ She is such a one indeed, that I should be loath to change her if +I might; and I look upon myself to be very happy upon that Account. Nor +do I like their Opinion, who think a Man happy, because he never had a +Wife; I approve rather what the _Hebrew_ Sage said, _He that has a good +Wife has a good Lot_. + +_Ti._ It is commonly our own Fault, if our Wives be bad, either for +loving such as are bad, or making them so; or else for not teaching them +better. + +_Eu._ You say very right, but all this While I want to hear the third +Verse expounded: And methinks the divine _Theophilus_ looks as if he had +a Mind to do it. + +_Theo._ Truly my Mind was upon my Belly; but however, I'll speak my +Mind, since I may do it without Offence. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Favour to us if you should happen to be in any +Error, because by that Means you will give us Occasion of finding the +Truth. + +_Th._ The Sentence seems to be of the same Importance with that the Lord +expresses by the Prophet _Hosea_, Chap. vi. _I desire Mercy and not +Sacrifice, and the Knowledge of God more than Burnt-Offerings_. This is +fully explain'd, and to the Life, by the Lord _Jesus_, in St. _Matthew_, +Chap. ix. who being at Table in the House of _Levi_ the Publican, with +several others of the same Stamp and Profession, the _Pharisees_, who +were puff'd up with their external Observance of the Law, without any +Regard to the Precepts of it, whereupon the whole Law and Prophets +depend, (with a Design to alienate the Affections of his Disciples from +him) ask'd them, why their Master sat at the Table of Publicans and +Sinners. From whose Conversation those _Jews_, that would be accounted +the more holy, abstain'd; to that Degree, that if any of the stricter +Sort had met any of them by Chance, as soon as they came Home they would +wash themselves. And when the Disciples, being yet but raw, could give +no Answer; the Lord answer'd both for himself and them: _They_ (says he) +_who are whole need not a Physician, but they that are sick; but go you +and learn what that meaneth, I will have Mercy and not Sacrifice; for I +came not to call the Righteous but Sinners_. + +_Eu._ Indeed you have very handsomely explain'd the Matter, by the +comparing of Texts, which is the best Way of expounding Scripture. But I +would fain know what it is he calls Sacrifice, and what Mercy. For how +can we reconcile it, that God should be against Sacrifices, who had +commanded so many to be offered? + +_Th._ How far God is against Sacrifices, he himself teaches us in the +first Chapter of the Prophecy of _Isaiah_. There were certain legal +Obligations among the _Jews_, which were rather Significations of +Holiness, than of the Essence of it; of this Sort are Holy-Days, +Sabbatisms, Fasts, Sacrifices; and there were certain other Obligations +of perpetual Force, being good in their own Nature, and not meerly by +being commanded. Now God was displeased with the _Jews_, not because +they did observe the Rites and Ceremonies, but because being vainly +puffed up with these, they neglected those Things which God does in a +more especial Manner require of us; and wallowing in Avarice, Pride, +Rapines, Hatred, Envy, and other Iniquities, they thought they merited +Heaven, because that upon Holy-Days, they visited the Temple, offered +Sacrifices, abstained from forbidden Meats, and frequently fasted; +embracing the Shadow of Religion, and neglecting the Substance. But in +that, he says, _I will have Mercy, and not Sacrifice_; I take it to be +said according to the Idiom of the _Hebrew_ Tongue; that is to say, +_Mercy rather than Sacrifices, as Solomon_ interprets it in this Text, +_to do Mercy and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than +Sacrifices_. And again, the Scripture expresses all the charitable +Offices to our Neighbour, under the Terms of Mercy, and eleemosynary +Tenderness, which takes its Name from Pity. By Sacrifices, I suppose is +intended, whatsoever respects corporal Ceremonies, and has any Affinity +with Judaism, such as are the choice of Meats, appointed Garments, +Fasting, Sacrifices, the saying over of Prayers, as a Boy says his +Lesson: resting upon Holy-Days. These Things, as they are not to be +neglected in their due Season, so they become displeasing to God, if a +Man relying too much upon these Observances, shall neglect to do Acts of +Mercy, as often as his Brother's Necessity requires it. And it has some +Appearance of Holiness in it, to avoid the Conversation of wicked Men: +But this ought to give Place as oft as there is an Opportunity offer'd +of shewing Charity to our Neighbour. It is a Point of Obedience to rest +upon Holy Days: But it would be very impious to make such a Conscience +of a Day as to suffer a Brother to perish upon it. Therefore to keep the +Lord's Day is a Kind of _Sacrifice_: But to be reconcil'd to my Brother +is a Point of _Mercy_. And then, as for _Judgment_, though that may seem +to respect Persons in Power; who oftentimes oppress the weak therewith, +yet it seems reasonable enough in my Opinion that the poor Man should +remind him of that in _Hosea, And the Knowledge of God more than burnt +Offerings_. No Man can be said to keep the Law of God, but he that keeps +it according to the Mind of God. The _Jews_ could lift up an Ass upon +the Sabbath that was fallen into a Pit, and yet calumniated our Saviour +for preserving a Man upon that Day. This was a preposterous Judgment, +and not according to the Knowledge of God; for they did not consider +that these Things were made for Man, and not Man for them. But I should +have esteem'd it Presumption in me to have said these Things, if you had +not commanded it; and I had rather learn of others Things more _à +propos_. + +_Eu._ This is so far from being a Presumption, that it looks rather like +an Inspiration. But while we are thus plentifully feeding our Souls, we +must not neglect their Companions. + +_Ti._ Who are those? + +_Eu._ Our Bodies; are not they the Soul's Companions? I had rather call +them so, than Instruments, Habitations or Sepulchres. + +_Ti._ This is certainly to be plentifully refresh'd when the whole Man +is refresh'd. + +_Eu._ I see you are very backward to help yourselves; therefore, if you +please, I'll order the Roast-Meat to be brought us, lest instead of a +good Entertainment I should treat you with a long one. Now you see your +Ordinary. Here is a Shoulder of Mutton, but it is a very fine one, a +Capon and two Brace of Partridges. These indeed I had from the Market, +this little Farm supply'd me with the rest. + +_Ti._ It is a noble Dinner, fit for a Prince. + +_Eu._ For a _Carmelite_, you mean. But such as it is you are welcome to +it. If the Provision be not very dainty you have it very freely. + +_Ti._ Your House is so full of Talk, that not only the Walls but the +very Cup speaks. + +_Eu._ What does it say? + +_Ti. No Man is hurt but by himself._ + +_Eu._ The Cup pleads for the Cause of the Wine. For it is a common +Thing, if Persons get a Fever or the Head-ach by over drinking, to lay +it upon the Wine, when they have brought it upon themselves by their +Excess. + +_Soph._ Mine speaks _Greek_. [Greek: En oinô alêtheia.] _In Wine there's +Truth_ (when Wine is in the Wit is out.) + +_Eu._ This gives us to understand that it is not safe for Priests or +Privy-Counsellors to give themselves so to Wine, because Wine commonly +brings that to the Mouth that lay conceal'd in the Heart. + +_Soph._ In old Time among the _Egyptians_ it was unlawful for their +Priests to drink any Wine at all, and yet in those Days there was no +auricular Confession. + +_Eu._ It is now become lawful for all Persons to drink Wine, but how +expedient it is I know not. What Book is that, _Eulalius_, you take out +of your Pocket? It seems to be a very neat one, it is all over gilded. + +_Eulal._ It is more valuable for the Inside than the Out. It is St. +_Paul's_ Epistles, that I always carry about me, as my beloved +Entertainment, which I take out now upon the Occasion of something you +said, which minds me of a Place that I have beat my Brains about a long +Time, and I am not come to a full Satisfaction in yet. It is in the 6th +Chapter of the first Epistle to the _Corinthians_, _All Things are +lawful for me, but all Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful +for me, but I will not be brought under the Power of any_. In the first +Place (if we will believe the Stoicks) nothing can be profitable to us, +that is not honest: How comes _Paul_ then to distinguish betwixt that +which is lawful, and that which is expedient? It is not lawful to whore, +or get drunk, how then are all Things lawful? But if _Paul_ speaks of +some particular Things only, which he would have to be lawful, I can't +guess by the Tenor of the Place, which those particular Things are. +From that which follows, it may be gather'd, that he there speaks of the +Choice of Meats. For some abstain from Things offer'd to Idols, and +others from Meats forbidden by _Moses_'s Law. In the 8th Chapter he +treats of Things offer'd to Idols, and in the 10th Chapter explaining +the Meaning of this Place, says, _All Things are lawful for me, but all +Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful for me, but all Things +edify not. Let no Man seek his own, but every Man the Things of another. +Whatsoever is sold in the Shambles, eat ye_. And that which St. _Paul_ +subjoins, agrees with what he said before: _Meats for the Belly, and the +Belly for Meats; but God shall destroy both it and them_. Now that which +has Respect to the _Judaical_ Choice of Meats, is in the Close of the +10th Chapter. _Give none Offence, neither to the Jews nor the Gentiles, +nor to the Church of God; even as I please all Men in all Things, not +seeking my own Profit, but the Profit of many, that they may be sav'd_. +Where in that he saith to the _Gentiles_, he seems to have Respect to +Things offer'd to Idols; and where he speaketh to the _Jews_ he seems to +refer to the Choice of Meats; what he says to the Church of God +appertains to the Weak, collected out of both Sorts. It was lawful, it +seems, to eat of all Meats whatsoever, and all Things that are Clean to +the Clean. But the Question remaining is, Whether it be expedient or no? +The Liberty of the Gospel makes all Things lawful; but Charity has +always a Regard to my Neighbour's Good, and therefore often abstains +from Things lawful, rather chasing to condescend to what is for +another's Advantage, than to make Use of its own Liberty. But now here +arises a double Difficulty; first, that here is nothing that either +precedes or follows in the Context that agrees with this Sense. For he +chides the _Corinthians_ for being Seditious, Fornicators, Adulterers, +and given to go to Law before wicked Judges. Now what Coherence is there +with this to say, _All Things are lawful for me, but all Things are not +expedient_? And in the following Matter, he returns to the Case of +_Incontinence_, which he had also repeated before, only leaving out the +Charge of Contention: _But the Body_, says he, _is not for Fornication, +but for the Lord, and the Lord for the Body._ But however, this Scruple +may be solv'd too, because a little before, in the Catalogue of Sins, he +had made Mention of Idolatry. _Be not deceived, neither Fornicators, nor +Idolaters, nor Adulterers_; now the Eating of Things offer'd to Idols is +a certain Kind of Idolatry, and therefore he immediately subjoins, _Meat +is for the Belly, and the Belly for Meat_. Intimating, that in a Case of +Necessity, and for a Season, a Man may eat any Thing, unless Charity +towards his Neighbour shall dissuade it: But that Uncleanness is in all +Persons, and at all Times to be detested. It is Matter of Necessity that +we eat, but that Necessity shall be taken away at the Resurrection of +the Dead. But if we are lustful, that proceeds from Wickedness. But +there is another Scruple that I can't tell how to solve, or how to +reconcile to that Passage: _But I will not be brought under the Power of +any_. For he says, he has the Power of all Things, and yet he will not +be brought under the Power of any one. If he may be said to be under +another Man's Power, that abstains for Fear of offending, it is what he +speaks of himself in the ninth Chapter, _For though I be free from all +Men, yet have made myself Servant to all, that I may gain all._ St. +_Ambrose_ stumbling, I suppose, at this Scruple, takes this to be the +Apostle's genuine Sense for the better Understanding of what he says in +the 9th Chapter, where he claims to himself the Power of doing that +which the rest of the Apostles (either true or false) did, of receiving +a Maintenance from them to whom he preach'd the Gospel. But he forbore +this, although he might have done it, as a Thing expedient among the +_Corinthians_, whom he reprov'd for so many and enormous Iniquities. And +moreover, he that receives, is in some Degree in the Power of him from +whom he receives, and suffers some Kind of Abatement in his Authority. +For he that takes, cannot so freely reprove his Benefactor; and he that +gives will not so easily take a Reprehension from him that he has +obliged. And in this did the Apostle _Paul_ abstain from that which was +lawful, for the Credit of his apostolical Liberty, which in this Case he +would not have to be rendered obnoxious to any one, that he might with +the greater Freedom and Authority reprehend their Vices. Indeed, I like +this Explication of St. _Ambrose_ very well. But yet, if any Body had +rather apply this Passage to Meats, St. _Paul_'s, Saying, _but I will +not be brought under the Power of any_, may be taken in this Sense: +Although I may sometimes abstain from Meats offered to Idols, or +forbidden by the _Mosaical_ Law, out of Regard to the Salvation of my +Brothers Souls, and the Furtherance of the Gospel; yet my Mind is free, +well knowing that it is lawful to eat all Manner of Meats, according to +the Necessity of the Body. But there were some false Apostles, who went +about to persuade them, that some Meats, were in themselves, by their +own Nature unclean, and were to be forborn, not upon Occasion only, but +at all Times; and that as strict as Adultery or Murder. Now those that +were thus misled, were reduced under another's Power, and fell from +their Gospel Liberty. _Theophylact_ (as I remember) is the only Man that +advances an Opinion different from all these. _It is lawful_, says he, +_to eat all Sorts of Meats; but it is not expedient to eat to Excess; +for from Luxury comes Lust._ There is no Impiety, indeed, in this Sense; +but it does not seem to me to be the genuine Sense of the Place. I have +acquainted you with my Scruples, it will become your Charity to set me +to Rights. + +_Eu._ Your Discourse is, indeed, answerable to your Name, and one that +knows how to propound Questions as you do, has no Need of any Body to +answer them but himself. For you have so proposed your Doubts, as to put +one quite out of doubt, altho' St. _Paul_, in that Epistle, (proposing +to handle many Things at once) passes often from one Argument to +another, repeating what he had intermitted. + +_Ch._ If I were not afraid, that by my Loquacity I should divert you +from eating your Dinners, and did think it were lawful to intermix any +Thing out of profane Authors with sacred Discourses, I would venture to +propose something that I read to Day; not so much with Perplexity, as +with a singular Delight. + +_Eu._ Whatsoever is pious, and conduces to good Manners, ought not to be +called profane. The first Place must indeed be given to the Authority of +the Scriptures; but nevertheless, I sometimes find some Things said or +written by the Antients; nay, even by the Heathens; nay, by the Poets +themselves, so chastly, so holily, and so divinely, that I cannot +persuade myself, but that when they wrote them, they were divinely +inspired; and perhaps the Spirit of Christ diffuses itself farther than +we imagine; and that there are more Saints than we have in our +Catalogue. To confess freely among Friends, I can't read _Tully_ of _Old +Age_, of _Friendship_, his _Offices_, or his _Tusculan Questions_, +without kissing the Book, and Veneration for that divine Soul. And on +the contrary, when I read some of our modern Authors, treating of +_Politics, Oeconomics_ and _Ethics_, good God! how cold they are in +Comparison of these? Nay, how do they seem to be insensible of what they +write themselves? So that I had rather lose _Scotus_ and twenty more +such as he, than one _Cicero_ or _Plutarch_. Not that I am wholly +against them neither; but because, by the reading of the one, I find +myself become better; whereas, I rise from the other, I know not how +coldly affected to Virtue, but most violently inclin'd to Cavil and +Contention; therefore never fear to propose it, whatsoever it is. + +_Ch._ Although all _Tully_'s Books of Philosophy seem to breathe out +something divine; yet that Treatise of _Old Age_, that he wrote in old +Age, seems to me to be according to the _Greek_ Proverb; _the Song of +the dying Swan_. I was reading it to Day, and these Words pleasing me +above the rest, I got 'em by Heart: _Should it please God to give me a +Grant to begin my Life again from my very Cradle, and once more to run +over the Course of my Years I have lived, I would not upon any Terms +accept of it: Nor would I, having in a Manner finished my Race, run it +over again from the starting Place to the Goal: For what Pleasure has +this Life in it? nay, rather, what Pain has it not? But if there were +not, there would be undoubtedly in it Satiety or Trouble. I am not for +bewailing my past Life as a great many, and learned Men too, have done, +nor do I repent that I have liv'd; because, I have liv'd so, that I am +satisfy'd I have not liv'd in vain. And when I leave this Life, I leave +it as an Inn, and not as a Place of Abode. For Nature has given us our +Bodies as an Inn to lodge in, and not to dwell in. O! glorious Day will +that be, when I shall leave this Rabble-rout and Defilements of the +World behind me, to go to that Society and World of Spirits!_ Thus far +out of _Cato_. What could be spoken more divinely by a Christian? I wish +all the Discourses of our Monks, even with their holy Virgins, were such +as the Dialogue of this aged Pagan, with the Pagan Youths of his Time. + +_Eu._ It may be objected, that this Colloquy of _Tully_'s was but a +Fiction. + +_Ch._ It is all one to me, whether the Honour of these Expressions be +given to _Cato_, who thought and spoke them, or to _Cicero_, whose Mind +could form such divine Things in Contemplation, and whose Pen could +represent such excellent Matter in Words so answerable to it; though +indeed I am apt to think that _Cato_, if he did not speak these very +Words, yet that in his familiar Conversation he us'd Words of the very +same Import. For indeed, _M. Tully_ was not a Man of that Impudence, to +draw _Cato_ otherwise than he was. Beside, that such an Unlikeness in a +Dialogue would have been a great Indecorum, which is the thing chiefly +to be avoided in this Sort of Discourse; and especially, at a Time when +his Character was fresh in the Memories of all Men. + +_Th._ That which you say is very likely: But I'll tell you what came +into my Mind upon your Recital. I have often admired with myself, that +considering that all Men wish for long Life, and are afraid of Death; +that yet, I have scarce found any Man so happy, (I don't speak of old, +but of middle-aged Men); but that if the Question were put to him, +whether or no, if it should be granted him to grow young again, and run +over the same good and ill Fortune that he had before, he would not make +the same Answer that _Cato_ did; especially passing a true Reflection +upon the Mixture of Good and Ill of his past Life. For the Remembrance +even of the pleasantest Part of it is commonly attended with Shame, and +Sting of Conscience, insomuch that the Memory of past Delights is more +painful to us, than that of past Misfortunes. Therefore it was wisely +done of the ancient Poets in the Fable of _Lethe_, to represent the Dead +drinking largely of the Waters of Forgetfulness, before their Souls were +affected with any Desire of the Bodies they had left behind them. + +_Ur._ It is a Thing well worthy of our Admiration, and what I myself +have observ'd in some Persons. But that in _Cato_ that pleases me the +most is his Declaration. _Neither am I sorry that I have liv'd._ Where +is the _Christian_, that has so led his Life, as to be able to say as +much as this old Man? It is a common Thing for Men, who have scrap'd +great Estates together by Hook or by Crook, when they are upon their +Death Beds, and about to leave them, then to think they have not liv'd +in vain. But _Cato_ therefore thought, that he had not liv'd in vain, +upon the Conscience of his having discharg'd all the Parts of an honest +and useful Citizen, and an uncorrupted Magistrate; and that he should +leave to Posterity, Monuments of his Virtue and Industry. And what could +be spoken more divinely than this, _I depart as from an Inn, and not an +Habitation_. So long we may stay in an Inn till the Host bids us be +gone, but a Man will not easily be forc'd from his own House. And yet +from hence the Fall of the House, or Fire, or some Accident drives us. +Or if nothing of these happen, the Structure falls to Pieces with old +Age, thereby admonishing us that we must change our Quarters. + +_Neph._ That Expression of _Socrates_ in _Plato_ is not less elegant: +_Methinks_, says he, _the Soul of a Man is in the Body as in a +Garrison, there is no quitting of it without the Leave of the Generals, +nor no staying any longer in it, than during the Pleasure of him that +plac'd him there._ This Allusion of _Plato'_s, of a Garrison instead of +a House, is the more significant of the two. For in a House is only +imply'd Abode, in a Garrison we are appointed to some Duty by our +Governor. And much to the same Purpose is it, that in Holy Writ the Life +of Man is sometimes call'd a Warfare, and at other times a Race. + +_Ur._ But _Cato_'s Speech, methinks, seems to agree very well with that +of St. _Paul_, who writing to the _Corinthians_, calls that heavenly +Mansion, which we look for after this Life in one Place [Greek: oikian] +a House, in another [Greek: oikêtêrion] a Mansion, and moreover (besides +that) he calls the Body [Greek: skênos] a Tabernacle. For _we also_, +(says he) _who are in this Tabernacle, groan, being burthened._ + +_Neph._ Much after this Manner says St. _Peter; And I think it meet_ +(says he) _as long as I am in this Tabernacle, to stir you up by putting +you in Mind, being assured that I shall shortly put off this +Tabernacle._ And what else does _Christ_ himself say to us, but that we +should live and watch, as if we were presently to die: And so apply +ourselves to honest Things, as if we were to live for ever? And when we +hear these excellent Words of _Cato, O that glorious Day_, do we not +seem to hear St. _Paul_ himself saying, _I desire to be dissolved, and +to be with Christ_? + +_Ch._ How happy are they that wait for Death with such a Frame of Mind? +But as for _Cato_'s Speech, altho' it be an excellent one, methinks +there is more Boldness and Arrogance in it, than becomes a Christian. +Indeed, I never read anything in a Heathen, that comes nearer to a +Christian, than what _Socrates_ said to _Crito_, a little before he +drank his Poison; _Whether I shall be approv'd or not in the Sight of +God, I cannot tell; but this I am certain of, that I have most +affectionately endeavoured to please him; and I have a good Hope, that +he will accept of my Endeavours._ This great Man was diffident of his +own Performances; but so, that being conscious to himself of the +Propensity of his Inclination to obey the divine Will, he conceived a +good Hope, that God, of his Goodness, would accept him for the Honesty +of his Intentions. + +_Neph._ Indeed, it was a wonderful Elevation of Mind in a Man, that knew +not Christ, nor the holy Scriptures: And therefore, I can scarce +forbear, when I read such Things of such Men, but cry out, _Sancte +Socrates, ora pro nobis; Saint_ Socrates, _pray for us._ + +_Ch._ And I have much ado sometimes to keep myself from entertaining +good Hopes of the Souls of _Virgil_ and _Horace._ + +_Neph._ But how unwillingly have I seen many Christians die? Some put +their Trust in Things not to be confided in; others breathe out their +Souls in Desperation, either out of a Consciousness of their lewd Lives, +or by Reason of Scruples that have been injected into their Minds, even +in their dying Hours, by some indiscreet Men. + +_Ch._ It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent their Time in +philosophizing about Ceremonies all their Lives. + +_Neph._ What do you mean by Ceremonies? + +_Ch._ I'll tell you, but with Protestation over and over beforehand, +that I don't find Fault with the Sacraments and Rites of the Church, but +rather highly approve of them; but I blame a wicked and superstitious +Sort of People, or (to put it in the softest Term) the simple and +unlearned Persons, who teach People to put their Confidence in these +Things, omitting those Things which make them truly Christians. + +_Neph._ I don't yet clearly understand what it is you aim at. + +_Ch._ I'll be plainer then. If you look into Christians in common, don't +you find they live as if the whole Sum of Religion consisted in +Ceremonies? With how much Pomp are the antient Rites of the Church set +forth in Baptism? The Infant waits without the Church Door, the Exorcism +is performed, the Catechizing is performed, Vows are made, Satan is +abjured, with all his Pomps and Pleasures; then the Child is anointed, +sign'd, season'd with Salt, dipt, a Charge given to his Sureties to see +it well brought up; and the Oblation-Money being paid, they are +discharged, and by this Time the Child passes for a Christian, and in +some Sense is so. A little Time after, it is anointed again, and in Time +learns to confess, receives the Sacrament, is accustom'd to rest upon +Holy-Days, to hear Divine Service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from +Flesh; and if he observes all these, he passes for an absolute +Christian. He marries a Wife, and then comes on another Sacrament; he +enters into Holy Orders, is anointed again, and consecrated, his Habit +is chang'd, and then to Prayers. Now I approve of the doing of all this +well enough; but the doing of them more out of Custom than Conscience, I +don't approve; but to think that nothing else is requisite for the +making a Christian, I absolutely disapprove: For the greatest Part of +Men in the World trust to these Things, and think they have nothing else +to do, but get Wealth by Right or Wrong, to gratify their Passions of +Rage, Lust, Malice, Ambition: And this they do till they come upon their +Death Bed; and then there follows more Ceremonies; Confession upon +Confession, more Unction still, the Eucharist is administred; Tapers, +the Cross, holy Water are brought in; Indulgencies are procured, if they +are to be had for Love or Money; Orders are given for a magnificent +Funeral; and then comes on another solemn Contract: When the Man is in +the Agony of Death, there's one stands by bawling in his Ear, and now +and then dispatches him before his Time, if he chance to be a little in +Drink, or have better Lungs than ordinary. Now although these Things may +be well enough, as they are done in Conformity to ecclesiastical +Customs; yet there are some more internal Impressions, which have an +Efficacy to fortify us against the Assaults of Death, by filling our +Hearts with Joy, and helping us to go out of the World with a Christian +Assurance. + +_Eu._ You speak very piously and truly; but in the mean Time here is no +Body eats; I told you before, that you must expect nothing after the +second Course, and that a Country one too, lest any Body should look for +Pheasants, Moorhens, and fine Kickshaws. Here, Boy! take away these +Things, and bring up the rest. You see, not the Affluence, but the +Straitness of my Fortune. This is the Product of my Gardens you have +seen; don't spare, if you like any Thing. + +_Ti._ There's so great a Variety, it does a Man good to look upon it. + +_Eu._ That you mayn't altogether despise my Thriftiness, this Dish would +have chear'd up the Heart of old _Hilarion_, the evangelical Monk, with +a hundred more of his Fellows, the Monks of that Age. But _Paul_ and +_Anthony_ would have lived a Month upon it. + +_Ti._ Yes, and Prince _Peter_ too, I fancy would have leap'd at it, when +he lodg'd at _Simon_ the Tanner's. + +_Eu._ Yes; and _Paul_ too, I believe, when by Reason of Poverty he sat +up a-Nights to make Tents. + +_Ti._ How much do we owe to the Goodness of God! But yet, I had rather +suffer Hunger with _Peter_ and _Paul_, upon Condition, that what I +wanted for my Body, might be made up by the Satisfaction of my Mind. + +_Eu._ Let us learn of St. _Paul_, both how to abound, and how to suffer +Want. When we want, let us praise God, that he has afforded us Matter to +exercise our Frugality and Patience upon: When we abound, let us be +thankful for his Munificence, who by his Liberality, invites and +provokes us to love him; and using those Things the divine Bounty has +plentifully bestowed upon us, with Moderation and Temperance; let us be +mindful of the Poor, whom God has been pleas'd to suffer to want what he +has made abound to us, that neither Side may want an Occasion of +exercising Virtue: For he bestows upon us sufficient for the Relief of +our Brother's Necessity, that we may obtain his Mercy, and that the Poor +on the other Hand, being refresh'd by our Liberality, may give him +Thanks for putting it into our Hearts, and recommend us to him in their +Prayers; and, very well remember'd! Come hither, Boy; bid my Wife send +_Gudula_ some of the roast Meat that's left, 'tis a very good poor Woman +in the Neighbourhood big with Child, her Husband is lately dead, a +profuse, lazy Fellow, that has left nothing but a Stock of Children. + +_Ti._ Christ has commanded _to give to every one that asks_; but if I +should do so, I should go a begging myself in a Month's Time. + +_Eu._ I suppose Christ means only such as ask for Necessaries: For to +them who ask, nay, who importune, or rather extort great Sums from +People to furnish voluptuous Entertainments, or, which is worse, to feed +Luxury and Lust, it is Charity to deny; nay, it is a Kind of Rapine to +bestow that which we owe to the present Necessity of our Neighbours, +upon those that will abuse it; upon this Consideration it is, that it +seems to me, that they can scarcely be excus'd from being guilty of a +mortal Sin, who at a prodigious Expence, either build or beautify +Monasteries or Churches, when in the mean Time so many living Temples of +Christ are ready to starve for Want of Food and Clothing, and are sadly +afflicted with the Want of other Necessaries. When I was in _England_, I +saw St. _Thomas_'s, Tomb all over bedeck'd with a vast Number of Jewels +of an immense Price, besides other rich Furniture, even to Admiration; I +had rather that these Superfluities should be apply'd to charitable +Uses, than to be reserv'd for Princes, that shall one Time or other make +a Booty of them. The holy Man, I am confident, would have been better +pleas'd, to have his Tomb adorn'd with Leaves and Flowers. When I was in +_Lombardy_, I saw a Cloyster of the _Carthusians_, not far from _Pavia_; +the Chapel is built from Top to Bottom, within and without, of white +Marble, and almost all that is in it, as Altars, Pillars, and Tombs, are +all Marble. To what Purpose was it to be at such a vast Expence upon a +Marble Temple, for a few solitary Monks to sing in? And 'tis more +Burthen to them than Use too, for they are perpetually troubled with +Strangers, that come thither, only out of mere Curiosity, to see the +Marble Temple. And that, which is yet more ridiculous, I was told there, +that there is an Endowment of three thousand Ducats a Year for keeping +the Monastery in Repair. And there are some that think that it is +Sacrilege, to convert a Penny of that Money to any other pious Uses, +contrary to the Intention of the Testator; they had rather pull down, +that they may rebuild, than not go on with building. I thought meet to +mention these, being something more remarkable than ordinary; tho' we +have a World of Instances of this Kind up and down in our Churches. +This, in my Opinion, is rather Ambition than Charity. Rich Men +now-a-Days will have their Monuments in Churches, whereas in Times past +they could hardly get Room for the Saints there: They must have their +Images there, and their Pictures, forsooth, with their Names at length, +their Titles, and the Inscription of their Donation; and this takes up a +considerable Part of the Church; and I believe in Time they'll be for +having their Corpse laid even in the very Altars themselves. But +perhaps, some will say, would you have their Munificence be discourag'd? +I say no, by no Means, provided what they offer to the Temple of God be +worthy of it. But if I were a Priest or a Bishop, I would put it into +the Heads of those thick-scull'd Courtiers or Merchants, that if they +would atone for their Sins to Almighty God, they should privately bestow +their Liberality upon the Relief of the Poor. But they reckon all as +lost, that goes out so by Piece-meal, and is privily distributed toward +the Succour of the Needy, that the next Age shall have no Memorial of +the Bounty. But I think no Money can be better bestow'd, than that which +Christ himself would have put to his Account, and makes himself Debtor +for. + +_Ti._ Don't you take that Bounty to be well plac'd that is bestow'd upon +Monasteries? + +_Eu._ Yes, and I would be a Benefactor myself, if I had an Estate that +would allow it; but it should be such a Provision for Necessaries, as +should not reach to Luxury. And I would give something too, wheresoever +I found a religious Man that wanted it. + +_Ti._ Many are of Opinion, that what is given to common Beggars, is not +well bestowed. + +_Eu._ I would do something that Way too; but with Discretion: But in my +Opinion, it were better if every City were to maintain their own Poor; +and Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars were not suffer'd to strole about, who +want Work more than Money. + +_Ti._ To whom then would you in an especial Manner give? How much? And +to what Purposes? + +_Eu._ It is a hard Matter for me to answer to all these Points exactly: +First of all, there should be an Inclination to be helpful to all, and +after that, the Proportion must be according to my Ability, as +Opportunity should offer; and especially to those whom I know to be poor +and honest; and when my own Purse fail'd me, I would exhort others to +Charity. + +_Ti._ But will you give us Leave now to discourse freely in your +Dominions? + +_Eu._ As freely as if you were at Home at your own Houses. + +_Ti._ You don't love vast Expences upon Churches, you say, and this +House might have been built for less than it was. + +_Eu._ Indeed, I think this House of mine to be within the Compass of +cleanly and convenient, far from Luxury, or I am mistaken. Some that +live by begging, have built with more State; and yet, these Gardens of +Mine, such as they are, pay a Tribute to the Poor; and I daily lessen my +Expence, and am the more frugal in Expence upon myself and Family, that +I may contribute the more plentifully to them. + +_Ti._ If all Men were of your Mind, it would be better than it is with a +good many People who deserve better, that are now in extreme Want; and +on the other Hand, many of those pamper'd Carcases would be brought +down, who deserve to be taught Sobriety and Modesty by Penury. + +_Eu._ It may be so: but shall I mend your mean Entertainment now, with +the best Bit at last? + +_Ti._ We have had more than enough of Delicacies already. + +_Eu._ That which I am now about to give you, let your Bellies be never +so full, won't over-charge your Stomachs. + +_Ti._ What is it? + +_Eu._ The Book of the four Evangelists, that I may treat you with the +best at last. Read, Boy, from the Place where you left off last. + +_Boy. No Man can serve two Masters; for either he will hate the one and +love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other: +You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore, I say unto you, take no +thought for your Life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink: Nor +yet for your Body, what you shall put on. Is not the Life more than +Meat, and the Body than Raiment?_ + +_Eu._ Give me the Book. In this Place _Jesus Christ_ seems to me, to +have said the same Thing twice: For instead of what he had said in the +first Place, _i.e._ _he will hate_; he says immediately, _he will +despise_. And for what he had said before, _he will love_, he by and by +turns it, _he will hold to_. The Sense is the same, tho' the Persons are +chang'd. + +_Ti._ I do not very well apprehend what you mean. + +_Eu._ Let me, if you please, demonstrate it mathematically. In the first +Part, put _A_ for the one, and _B_ for the other. In the latter Part, +put _B_ for one, and _A_ for the other, inverting the Order; for either +_A_ will hate, and _B_ will love, or _B_ will hold to, and _A_ will +despise. Is it not plain now, that _A_ is twice hated, and _B_ twice +beloved? + +_Ti._ 'Tis very clear. + +_Eu._ This Conjunction, _or_, especially repeated, has the Emphasis of a +contrary, or at least, a different Meaning. Would it not be otherwise +absurd to say, _Either_ Peter _shall overcome me, and I'll yield; or +I'll yield, and_ Peter _shall overcome me?_ + +_Ti._ A pretty Sophism, as I'm an honest Man. + +_Eu._ I shall think it so when you have made it out, not before. + +_The._ I have something runs in my Mind, and I'm with Child to have it +out: I can't tell what to make on't, but let it be what it will, you +shall have it if you please; if it be a Dream, you shall be the +Interpreters, or midwife it into the World. + +_Eu._ Although it is looked upon to be unlucky to talk of Dreams at +Table, and it is immodest to bring forth before so many Men; but this +Dream, or this Conception of thy Mind, be it what it will, let us have +it. + +_The._ In my Judgment it is rather the Thing than the Person that is +chang'd in this Text. And the Words _one_ and _one_ do not refer to _A_ +and _B_; but either Part of them, to which of the other you please; so +that chuse which you will, it must be opposed to that, which is +signified by the other; as if you should say, you _shall either exclude_ +A _and admit_ B, _or you shall admit_ A _and exclude_ B. Here's the +Thing chang'd, and the Person the same: And it is so spoken of _A_, that +it is the same Case, if you should say the same Thing of _B_; as thus, +either you shall exclude _B_ or admit _A_, or admit _B_ or exclude _A_. + +_Eu._ In Truth, you have very artificially solv'd this Problem: No +Mathematician could have demonstrated it better upon a Slate. + +_Soph._ That which is the greatest Difficulty to me is this; that we are +forbidden to take Thought for to Morrow; when yet, _Paul_ himself +wrought with his own Hands for Bread, and sharply rebukes lazy People, +and those that live upon other Men's Labour, exhorting them to take +Pains, and get their Living by their Fingers Ends, that they may have +wherewith to relieve others in their Necessities. Are not they holy and +warrantable Labours, by which a poor Husband provides for his dear Wife +and Children? + +_Ti._ This is a Question, which, in my Opinion, may be resolv'd several +Ways. First of all, This Text had a particular Respect to those Times. +The Apostles being dispers'd far and wide for the Preaching of the +Gospel, all sollicitous Care for a Maintenance was to be thrown aside, +it being to be supply'd otherwise, having not Leisure to get their +Living by their Labour; and especially, they having no Way of getting +it, but by Fishing. But now the World is come to another Pass, and we +all love to live at Ease, and shun Painstaking. Another Way of +expounding it may be this; Christ had not forbid Industry, but Anxiety +of Thought, and this Anxiety of Thought is to be understood according to +the Temper of Men in common, who are anxious for nothing more than +getting a Livelihood; that setting all other Things aside, this is the +only Thing they mind. And our Saviour does in a Manner intimate the same +himself, when he says, that one Man cannot serve two Masters. For he +that wholly gives himself up to any Thing, is a Servant to it. Now he +would have the Propagation of the Gospel be our chief, but yet, not our +only Care. For he says, _Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and these +Things shall be added unto you_. He does not say, seek only; but seek +first. And besides, I take the Word to Morrow, to be hyperbolical, and +in that, signifies a Time to come, a great While hence, it being the +Custom of the Misers of this World, to be anxiously scraping together, +and laying up for Posterity. + +_Eu._ We allow of your Interpretation; but what does he mean, when he +says, _Be not sollicitous for your Life, what you shall eat_? The Body +is cloth'd, but the Soul does not eat. + +_Ti._ By _Anima_, is meant Life, which can't subsist without Meat (or is +in Danger, if you take away its Food): But it is not so, if you take +away the Garment, which is more for Modesty than Necessity. If a Person +is forc'd to go naked, he does not die presently; but Want of Food is +certain Death. + +_Eu._ I do not well understand how this Sentence agrees with that which +follows; _Is not the Life more than Meat, and the Body than Raiment_? +For if Life be so precious, we ought to take the more Care of it. + +_Ti._ This Argument does rather increase our Sollicitousness than lessen +it. + +_Eu._ But this is none of our Saviour's Meaning; who, by this Argument, +creates in us a stronger Confidence in the Father: For if a bountiful +Father hath given us _gratis_ that which is the more valuable, he will +also bestow upon us what is less valuable: He that has given us Life, +will not deny us Food: And he that has given us Bodies, will by some +Means or other give us Cloaths too: Therefore, relying upon his Bounty, +we have no Reason to disquiet ourselves with Anxiety of Thought, for +Things of smaller Moment. What remains then, but using this World, as +though we used it not, we transfer our whole Study and Application to +the Love of heavenly Things, and rejecting the World and the Devil +universally, with all his crafty Delusions, we chearfully serve God +alone, who will never forsake his Children? But all this While, here's +no Body touches the Fruits. Certainly you may eat this with Joy, for +this is the Product of my own Farm, and did not cost much Care to +provide it. + +_Ti._ We have very plentifully satisfied our Bodies. + +_Eu._ I should be glad if you had satisfied your Minds too. + +_Ti._ Our Minds have been satisfy'd more plentifully than our Bodies. + +_Eu._ Boy, take away, and bring some Water; now, my Friends, let us +wash, that if we have in eating contracted any Guilt, being cleansed, we +may conclude with a Hymn: If you please, I'll conclude with what I begun +out of St. _Chrysostom_. + +_Ti._ We entreat you that you would do it. + +_Eu. Glory to thee, O Lord; Glory to thee, O holy One; Glory to thee, O +King; as thou hast given us Meat for our Bodies, so replenish our Souls +with Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be found +acceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shalt +render to every one according to his Works_. + +Boy. _Amen_. + +_Ti._ In Truth, it is a pious and elegant Hymn. + +_Eu._ Of St. _Chrysostom_'s Translation too. + +_Ti._ Where is it to be found? + +_Eu._ In his 56th Homily on St. _Matthew_. + +_Ti._ I'll be sure to read it to Day: But I have a Mind to be informed +of one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these three +Denominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_. + +_Eu._ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these three +Respects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holy +Blood from the Tyranny of the Devil, and hath taken us to himself. +Secondly, We stile him Holy, because he being the Sanctifier of all Men, +not being content alone to have freely pardoned us all our Sins _gratis_ +by his holy Spirit, hath bestow'd upon us his Righteousness, that we +might follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for the +Reward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of God +the Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, that +we have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be a +Tyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of the +Filth and Uncleanness of our Sins; and instead of the Torments of Hell, +the Joys of Life everlasting. + +_Ti._ Indeed it is a very pious Sentence. + +_Eu._ This is your first Visit, Gentlemen, and I must not dismiss you +without Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been. +Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will draw +Lots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that is +to say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, a +hundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are four +little Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will be +more agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses. + +_Ti._ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but do +you distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come the +welcomer where they fall. + +_Eu._ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, it +teaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom. +This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to the +Doctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be given +and abound. + +_Ti._ I will be sure to make it my Study, to stand in less Need of it. + +_Eu. Sophronius_, this Dial will suit you very well, whom I know to be +so good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of that +precious Thing be lost. It came out of the furthest Part of _Dalmatia_, +and that's all the Commendation I shall give it. + +_Sophr._ You indeed admonish a Sluggard to be diligent. + +_Eu._ You have in this little Book the Gospel written on Vellum; it +deserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were a +fitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may be +more and more like to your Name. + +_The._ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present ill +bestow'd. + +_Eu._ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions, +_Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in your +Mouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: And +now for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in your +Hand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into the +Bargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel. + +_Eu._ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiable +Reader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books. + +_Ch._ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and in +the next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance. + +_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and to +excellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, by +which the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, and +that by such an Artist. + +_The._ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as you +have with Instruments. + +_Eu._ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books of +Morals, and very fairly written by one very well skill'd in the _Greek_; +I find in them so much Purity of Thought, that it is my Amazement, how +such evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This I +will present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_ +Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as a +thrifty Dispenser of his Time. + +_Neph._ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but your +Compliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, as +Panegyricks. + +_Eu._ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these small +Matters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'd +by your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment may +have upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiser +and better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, and +much less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hour +in seeing the rest of the Curiosities of my little Palace. + +_Ti._ That's the very Thing we were about to desire of you. + +_Eu._ There is no Need of entreating a Man of his Word. I believe you +have seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; and +which Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Green +before you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by putting +down the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun is +incommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thin +ones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in my +Garden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and their +Flowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviour +celebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ a +keeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'd +in the Gospel, in the Height of his Luxury, by and by sinking into Hell. +And here is _Lazarus_, driven away from his Doors, by and by to be +receiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom. + +_Ti._ We don't very well know this Story. + +_Eu._ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be most +luxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth her +Hand for the other. Here is the Battel of the _Centaurs_; and here +_Alexander_ the Great thrusts his Launce through the Body of _Clytus_. +These Examples preach Sobriety to us at Table, and deter a Man from +Gluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'd +with very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones. + +_Ti._ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is so +shining. + +_Eu._ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing at +the Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Piece +of Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully for +the Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospect +of the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions of +it describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have the +Pictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Painting +them all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, and +stretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice, +saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in a +Glory, embracing him. + +_Ti._ As God shall bless me, a Piece of Work worthy of _Apelles_. + +_Eu._ Adjoining to the Library, there is a little Study, but a very neat +one; and 'tis but removing a Picture, and there is a Chimney behind it, +if the Cold be troublesome. In Summer-Time it passes for solid Wall. + +_Ti._ Every Thing here looks like Jewels; and here's a wonderful pretty +Scent. + +_Eu._ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and both +these may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery that +looks into the Garden, and there is a Chapel adjoining to it. + +_Ti._ The Place itself deserves a Deity. + +_Eu._ Let us go now to those three Walks above the other that you have +seen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have a +Prospect into both Gardens; but only by Windows with Shutters; +especially, in the Walls that have no Prospect into the inner Garden, +and that's for the Safety of the House. Here upon the Left-Hand, because +there is more Light, and fewer Windows, is painted the whole Life of +_Jesus_, out of the History of the four Evangelists, as far as to the +Mission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles out +of the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator may +see near what Lake, or upon what Mountain such or such a Thing was done. +There are also Titles to every Story, with an Abstract of the Contents, +as that of our Saviour, _I will, Be thou clean_. Over against it you +have the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out of +the Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christ +and Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursing +with myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, in +giving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears me +Company, or sometimes a Friend that takes Delight in pious Things. + +_Ti._ Who could be tired with this House? + +_Eu._ No Body that has learn'd to live by himself. Upon the upper Border +(as though not fit to be among the rest) are all the Popes Heads with +their Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Cæsars_, for the +better taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is a +Lodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of my +Orchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow, +is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and I +make Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, with +any infectious Disease. + +_Ti._ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to be +avoided. + +_Eu._ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this the +less, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that a +Basilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would not +stick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, is +Rashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wife +shall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and make +my House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a little +Business abroad: I must ride out to some of the Neighbouring Towns. + +_Ti._ What, a Money Business? + +_Eu._ I would not leave such Friends for the Sake of receiving a little +Money. + +_Ti._ Perhaps you have appointed a hunting Match. + +_Eu._ It is a Kind of Hunting indeed, but it is something else I hunt, +than either Boars or Stags. + +_Ti._ What is it then? + +_Eu._ I'll tell you: I have a Friend in one Town lies dangerously ill; +the Physician fears his Life, but I am afraid of his Soul: For I don't +think he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'll +go and give him some pious Admonitions that he may be the better for, +whether he lives or dies. In another Town there are two Men bitterly at +odds, they are no ill Men neither, but Men of a very obstinate Temper. +If the Matter should rise to a greater Height, I am afraid it would be +of ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in the +World, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my hunting +Match, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink their +Healths. + +_Ti._ A very pious Hunting, indeed; we pray heartily, that not _Delia_ +but _Christ_ would give you good Success. + +_Eu._ I had rather obtain this Prey, than have two thousand Ducats left +me for a Legacy. + +_Ti._ Will you come back quickly? + +_Eu._ Not till I have try'd every Thing; therefore, I can't set a Time. +In the mean Time, be as free with any Thing of mine, as though it were +your own, and enjoy yourselves. + +_Ti._ God be with you, forward and backward. + + + + +_The APOTHEOSIS of CAPNIO._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Canonizing, or entring the incomparable Man_, John + Reuclin, _into the Number of the Saints, teaches how much + Honour is due to famous Men, who have by their Industry + improv'd the liberal Sciences_. + + +None that has liv'd Well, dies Ill. + +POMPILIUS, BRASSICANUS. + +_Po._ Where have you been, with your Spatter-Lashes? + +_Br._ At _Tubinga_. + +_Po._ Is there no News there? + +_Br._ I can't but admire, that the World should run so strangely a +gadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we should +have nothing to do with any Thing that is new. + +_Po._ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be a +Man,) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always to +feed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine. + +_Br._ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love old +Things so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh than +stale. + +_Po._ No more of the Camel; but prithee tell me, what News have you? + +_Br._ Nay, I have News in my Budget too; but News which he says is +naught. + +_Po._ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Things +be good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence, +that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and that +which is now bad, will in Time come to be good. + +_Br._ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; and +therefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool in +Time past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he is +grown old. + +Po. But prithee, let's have the News, be it what it will. + +_Br._ The famous triple-tongu'd Phoenix of Learning, _John Reuclin_, is +departed this Life. + +_Po._ For certain? + +_Br._ Nay, it is too certain. + +_Po._ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortal +Memory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of this +miserable World, into the Society of the Blessed? + +_Br._ How do you know that to be the Case? + +_Po._ It is plain, for he can't die otherwise, who has liv'd as he did. + +_Br._ You would say so, indeed, if you knew what I know. + +_Po._ What's that, I pray? + +_Br._ No, no, I must not tell you. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Br._ Because he that entrusted me with the Secret, made me promise +Silence. + +_Po._ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon my +honest Word, I'll keep Counsel. + +_Br._ That honest Word has often deceived me; but however, I'll venture; +especially, it being a Matter of that Kind, that it is fit all honest +Men should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Man +accounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own. + +_Po._ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of true +Piety. + +_Br._ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know the +Man. + +_Po._ What if I shall guess at him? + +_Br._ Do, if you will. + +_Po._ Hold your Ear then. + +_Br._ What needs that, when here's no Body within Hearing? + +_Po._ But however, for Fashion Sake. + +_Br._ 'Tis the very same. + +_Po._ He is a Man of undoubted Credit. If he says a Thing, it is to me, +as true as the Gospel. + +_Br._ Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked Truth of the Story. My +Friend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there was +some Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, be +sick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he might +ease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend was +sick, I was sick too, for I lov'd him as my own Father. + +_Po._ Phoo! There's no Body but lov'd him, except he were a very bad Man +indeed. + +_Br._ My Franciscan says to me, _Brassicanus_, leave off grieving, our +_Reuclin_ is well. What, said I, Is he well all on a sudden then? For +but two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, says +he, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don't +weep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before you +have heard the Matter out. I have not indeed seen the Man this six Days, +but I pray for him constantly every Day that goes over my Head. This +Morning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into a +gentle pleasant Slumber. + +_Po._ My Mind presages some joyful Thing. + +_Br._ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standing +by a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; the +emerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charming +Prospect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like little +Stars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all the +Fields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was divided +from the rest, seem'd neither to grow, nor to be green; but look'd dead, +blasted, and withered. And in the Interim, while I was wholly taken up +with the Prospect, _Reuclin_, as good Luck would have it, came by; and +as he past by, gave me his Blessing in _Hebrew_. He was gotten half Way +over the Bridge before I perceived him, and as I was about to run to +him, he look'd back, and bid me keep off. You must not come yet, says +he, but five Years hence, you shall follow me. In the mean Time, do you +stand by a Spectator, and a Witness of what is done. Here I put in a +Word, says I, was _Reuclin_ naked, or had he Cloaths on; was he alone, +or had he Company? He had, says he, but one Garment, and that was a very +white one; you would have said, it had been a Damask, of a wonderful +shining White, and a very pretty Boy with Wings followed him, which I +took to be his good Genius. + +_Po._ But had he no evil Genius with him? + +_Br._ Yes, the Franciscan told me he thought he had. For there followed +him a great Way off, some Birds, that were all over Black, except, that +when they spread their Wings, they seem'd to have Feathers, of a Mixture +of White and Carnation. He said, that by their Colour and Cry, one might +have taken them for Magpies, but that they were sixteen Times as big; +about the size of Vultures, having Combs upon their Heads, with crooked +Beaks and Gorbellies. If there had been but three of them, one would +have taken them for Harpyes. + +_Po._ And what did these Devils attempt to do? + +_Br._ They kept at a Distance, chattering and squalling at the Hero +_Reuclin_, and were ready to set upon him, if they durst. + +_Po._ What hindred them? + +_Br._ Turning upon them, and making the Sign of the Cross with his Hand +at them, he said, _Be gone, ye cursed Fiends to a Place that's fitter +for you. You have Work enough to do among Mortals, your Madness has no +Power over me, that am now lifted in the Roll of Immortality._ The +Words were no sooner out of his Mouth, says the Franciscan, but these +filthy Birds took their Flight, but left such a Stink behind them, that +a House of Office would have seem'd Oyl of sweet Marjoram, or Ointment +of Spikenard to it. He swore, he had rather go to Hell, than snuff up +such a Perfume again. + +_Po._ A Curse upon these Pests. + +_Br._ But, hear what the Franciscan told me besides: While I was intent +upon these Things, says he, St. _Jerome_ was come close to the Bridge, +and saluted _Reuclin_ in these Words, _God save thee, my most holy +Companion, I am ordered to conduct thee to the Mansions of the blessed +Souls above, which the divine Bounty has appointed thee as a Reward for +thy most pious Labours._ With that he took out a Garment, and put it +upon _Reuclin_. Then, said I, tell me in what Habit or Form St. _Jerome_ +appear'd, was he so old as they paint him? Did he wear a Cowl or a Hat, +or the Garb of a Cardinal? Or had he a Lion by his Side? Nothing of all +these, said he; but his Person was comely, which made his Age appear +such as carried in it much Comeliness, but no Deformity. What Need had +he to have a Lion by his Side, as he is commonly painted? His Gown came +down to his Heels, as transparent as Crystal, and of the same Fashion of +that he gave to _Reuclin_. It was all over painted with Tongues of three +several Colours; some imitated Rubies, some Emeralds, and others +Sapphires; and beside the Clearness of it, the Order set it off very +much. + +_Po._ An Intimation, I suppose, of the three Tongues that he profess'd. + +_Br._ Without doubt: For he said, that upon the very Borders of the +Garments were the Characters of these three Languages inscrib'd in their +different Colours. + +_Po._ Had _Jerome_ no Company with him? + +_Br._ No Company, do you say? The whole Field swarm'd with Myriads of +Angels, that fill'd the Air as thick, as those little Corpuscles they +call Atoms, fly in the Sun Beams; pardon the Meanness of the Comparison. +If they had not been as transparent as Glass, there would have been no +Heaven nor Earth to have been seen. + +_Po._ O brave, I am glad with all my Heart, for _Reuclin_'s, Sake; but +what follow'd? + +_Br. Jerome_, (says he) for Honour's Sake, giving _Reuclin_ the +Right-Hand, and embracing him, conducts him into the Meadow, and up a +Hill that was in the middle of it, where they kiss'd and embrac'd one +another again: In the mean Time, the Heavens open'd over their Heads to +a prodigious Wideness, and there appear'd a Glory so unutterable, as +made every Thing else, that pass'd for wonderful before, to look mean +and sordid. + +_Po._ Can't you give us some Representation of it? + +Br. No, how should I, that did not see it? He who did see it, says, that +he was not able to express the very Dream of it. He said, he would die a +thousand Deaths to see it over again, if it were but for one Moment. + +_Po._ How then? + +_Br._ Out of this Overture of the Heavens, there was let down a great +Pillar of Fire that was transparent, and of a very pleasant Form: By +this the two holy Souls were carried into Heaven, in one anothers +Embraces; a Choir of Angels all the While accompanying them, with so +charming a Melody, that the Franciscan says, he is never able to think +of the Delight of it without weeping. And after this there follow'd a +wonderful fragrant Smell. When he waked out of his Dream, if you will +call it a Dream, he was just like a mad Man. He would not believe he was +in his Cell; he called for his Bridge and his Meadow; he could not speak +or think of any Thing else but them. The Seniors of the Convent, when +they found the Story to be no Fable, for it is certain that _Reuclin_ +dy'd at the very Instant that the holy Man had this Vision, they +unanimously gave Thanks to God, that abundantly rewards good Men for +their good Deeds. + +_Po._ What have we to do, but to set down this holy Man's Name in the +Calendar of Saints? + +_Br._ I should have done that if the Franciscan had seen nothing at all +of this, and in Gold Letters too, I'll assure you, next to St. _Jerome_ +himself. + +_Po._ And let me die if I don't put him down in my Book so too. + +_Br._ And besides that, I'll set him in Gold in my little Chapel, among +the choicest of my Saints. + +_Po._ And if I had a Fortune to my Mind, I'd have him in Diamonds. + +_Br._ He shall stand in my Library, the very next to St. _Jerome_. + +_Po._ And I'll have him in mine too. + +_Br._ If they were grateful, every one who loves Learning and Languages, +especially, the holy Tongues, would do so too. + +_Po._ Truly it is no more than he deserves. But han't you some Scruple +upon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authority +of the Bishop of _Rome_? + +_Br._ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Who +canoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory is +most sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, and +the Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselves +to the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was sainted +by _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City? + +_Po._ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will of +Heaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are always +sensibly felt. + +_Br._ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be a +Blessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments of +his Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality. +He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing with +St. _Jerome_ himself. + +_Po._ But he suffer'd a great Deal tho' in his Life. + +_Br._ But yet St. _Jerome_ suffered more. It is a Blessing to be +persecuted by wicked Men for being good. + +_Po._ I confess so, and St. _Jerome_ suffer'd many unworthy Things from +the worst of Men, for the best of Deeds. + +_Br._ That which Satan did formerly by the Scribes and Pharisees against +the Lord Jesus, he continues still to do by Pharisaical Men, against +good Men, who have deserved well from the World by their Studies. He now +reaps the blessed Harvest of the Seed he has been sowing. In the mean +Time, it will be our Duty, to preserve his Memory sacred; to honour his +Name, and to address him often in some such Manner as follows. _O holy +Soul, be thou propitious to Languages, and to those that cultivate them: +Favour the holy Tongues, and destroy evil Tongues that are infected with +the Poison of Hell._ + +_Po._ I'll do't myself, and earnestly persuade all my Friends to do it. +I make no Question but there will be those that will desire to have some +little Form of Prayer, according to Custom, to celebrate the Memory of +this most holy Hero. + +_Br._ Do you mean that which they call a Collect? + +_Po._ Yes. + +_Br._ I have one ready, that I provided before his Death. + +_Po._ I pray let's hear it. + +_Br. O God, that art the Lover of Mankind, that hast by thy chosen +Servant_ John Reuclin, _renew'd to Mankind the Gift of Tongues, by which +thy holy Spirit from above, did formerly furnish thy Apostles for their +Preaching the Gospel; grant that all thy People may every where, in all +Languages, preach the Glory of thy Son Jesus Christ, to the confounding +of the Tongues of false Apostles; who being in a Confederacy to uphold +the impious Tower of_ Babel, _endeavour to obscure thy Glory, and to +advance their own, when to thee alone, together with thy only Son Jesus +Christ our Lord, and the holy Spirit, is due all Glory to eternal Ages._ +Amen. + +_Po._ A most elegant and holy Prayer. As I live, it shall be mine daily. +And I account this a happy Opportunity, that has brought me to the +Knowledge of so joyful a Story. + +_Br._ Mayst thou long enjoy that Comfort, and so farewell. + +_Po._ Fare you well too. + +_Br._ I will fare well, but not be a Cook. + + + + +_A LOVER and MAIDEN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with a very chaste Wooing, + mingling many philosophical Notions with pleasant Jokes. + Of not being hasty in marrying; of chusing, not only for + the Sake of the outward Person, but the inward Endowments + of the Mind; of the Firmness of Wedlock; of not + contracting Matrimony without the Consent of Parents; of + living chastly in Matrimony; of bringing up Children + piously; that the Soul is not where it animates, but + where it loves. The Description of a deformed Man. That + Wedlock is to be preferr'd before a single Life, and is + not, as it is vulgarly called, a Halter. That we must not + consult our Affections so much as Reason._ + + +PAMPHILUS _and_ MARY. + +_PA._ Good Morrow, Madam, cruel, hard Heart, inflexible. + +_Ma._ Good Morrow to you too, Mr. _Pamphilus_, as often, and as much, +and by what Names you please: But you seem to have forgotten my Name, +'tis _Mary_. + +_Pa._ It should rather have been _Martia_. + +_Ma._ Why so, pray, what is _Mars_ to me? + +_Pa._ Because just as _Mars_ makes a Sport of killing Men, so do you; +saving that you do it the more cruelly of the two, because you kill one +that loves you. + +_Ma._ Say you so! pray where's the great Slaughter of Men that I have +made? Where's the Blood of the Slain? + +_Pa._ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon +me. + +_Ma._ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish +I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are. + +_Pa._ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor +me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For +now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death. + +_Ma._ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the +Sight of thee? + +_Pa._ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost. + +_Ma._ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe +Cherry, or purple Grape. + +_Pa._ You coquet it with my Misery. + +_Ma._ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass. + +_Pa._ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a +better in the World than I am a looking in already. + +_Ma._ What Looking-Glass do you mean? + +_Pa._ Your Eyes. + +_Ma._ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be +dead? Do dead Folks eat? + +_Pa._ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do. + +_Ma._ What do they feed upon? + +_Pa._ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines. + +_Ma._ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges. + +_Pa._ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or +Vinegar. + +_Ma._ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that. +And do dead Folks talk too? + +_Pa._ Just as I do, with a weak Voice. + +_Ma._ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your +Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths, +and sleep? + +_Pa._ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner. + +_Ma._ Thou art a merry Fellow. + +_Pa._ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that +I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however. + +_Pa._ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is +only a Separation of Soul and Body. + +_Ma._ I grant it. + +_Pa._ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words. + +_Ma._ No, I will not. + +_Pa._ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away +another's Life, is a Murtherer. + +_Ma._ I grant that too. + +_Pa._ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the +greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it +animates, but where it loves. + +_Ma._ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then. + +_Pa._ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it. + +_Ma._ I am a Maid, not a Stone. + +_Pa._ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone. + +_Ma._ Go on with your Inferences. + +_Pa._ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell, +nor feel, if you kill them outright. + +_Ma._ Indeed I have heard so. + +_Pa._ What do you think is the Reason? + +_Ma._ Do you, Philosopher, tell that. + +_Pa._ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly +loves; and therefore is absent from the Body. + +_Ma._ Well, what then? + +_Pa._ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead, +and you have killed me. + +_Ma._ Where is your Soul then? + +_Pa._ Where it loves. + +_Ma._ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me +freely: There's no Hurt in it. + +_Pa._ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me +outright. + +_Ma._ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from +her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb. + +_Pa._ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that +Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine +has into hers. + +_Ma._ But may I play the Sophister with you now? + +_Pa._ The Sophistress. + +_Ma._ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead? + +_Pa._ Not at the same Time. + +_Ma._ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it? + +_Pa._ No, it does not. + +_Ma._ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves, +it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it +loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates? + +_Pa._ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there. +That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but +improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul; +just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone. + +_Ma._ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me +this Question, does not the Person that kills, act? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And does not he suffer who is kill'd? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and +she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill, +when he that loves, rather kills himself? + +_Pa._ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is +lov'd, that acts. + +_Ma._ You will never prove that by all your Grammar. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then. + +_Ma._ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love +voluntarily, or against your Will? + +_Pa._ Voluntarily. + +_Ma._ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he +that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid +wrongfully. + +_Pa._ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He +is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save. + +_Ma._ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose +with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to +save the Lover? + +_Pa._ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to +love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be +a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me? + +_Pa._ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog +or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead. + +_Ma._ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men? + +_Pa._ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes. + +_Ma._ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then. + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me. + +_Ma._ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw +others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe +the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine. + +_Pa._ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must +insult him too. + +_Ma._ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral? + +_Pa._ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me. + +_Ma._ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure? + +_Pa._ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease +imaginable. + +_Ma._ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir. + +_Pa._ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's +easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the +World get clear of the Crime of Murther. + +_Ma._ In what Court must I be try'd? In the Court of Chancery? + +_Pa._ No, in the Court of _Venus_. + +_Ma._ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess. + +_Pa._ Nay, the most severe in the World. + +_Ma._ Has she any Thunderbolts? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Trident? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Spear? + +_Pa._ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea. + +_Ma._ But I don't go to Sea. + +_Pa._ But she has a Son. + +_Ma._ Youth is not very formidable. + +_Pa._ But he is very revengeful and resolute. + +_Ma._ What will he do to me? + +_Pa._ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish +so well to. God forbid I should. + +_Ma._ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am +no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by +his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall +deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you +again. + +_Ma._ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a +thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one +that won't love me neither. + +_Pa._ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain +Maid. + +_Ma._ Where did she live? + +_Pa._ At _Orleans_. + +_Ma._ How many Years ago was it? + +_Pa._ How many Years! not ten Months. + +_Ma._ What was her Name? What do you stick at? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you. + +_Ma._ Why don't you tell me her Name then? + +_Pa._ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some +other Name. She was your own Namesake. + +_Ma._ Who was her Father? + +_Pa._ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a +rich Man. + +_Ma._ Tell me his Name. + +_Pa. Mauritius._ + +_Ma._ His Sirname. + +_Pa. Aglaius._ + +_Ma._ Is her Mother alive? + +_Pa._ No, she died lately. + +_Ma._ What did she die of, say you? + +_Pa._ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life +too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution. + +_Ma._ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name. + +_Pa._ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by +that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye? + +_Ma._ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for +that. But tell me what became of the Maid? + +_Pa._ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a +good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a +Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her. + +_Ma._ What was his Name? + +_Pa._ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_ +as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good +Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with +Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape +than a Man. + +_Ma._ How! + +_Pa._ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it. + +_Ma._ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow? + +_Pa._ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd, +snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded, +hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow. + +_Ma._ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_. + +_Pa._ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither. + +_Ma._ It may be he had lost the other in the War. + +_Pa._ No, he lost it in Peace. + +_Ma._ Who dar'd to cut it off? + +_Pa. Jack Ketch._ + +_Ma._ It may be his Riches made Amends. + +_Pa._ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming +Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain. + +_Ma._ That is a miserable Story indeed. + +_Pa._ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for +slighting the young Gentleman. + +_Ma._ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure +such a Husband. + +_Pa._ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you. + +_Ma._ Well, if that will do, I do love you again. + +_Pa._ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a +Wife, not a Mistress. + +_Ma._ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which +being once done, can never be undone again. + +_Pa._ I have been deliberating too long already. + +_Ma._ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon +you, for they say he is blind. + +_Pa._ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment; +you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really +so, and therefore I love you. + +_Ma._ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on, +then you'll know where it pinches. + +_Pa._ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will +be happy for me. + +_Ma._ What, are you an Augur then? + +_Pa._ Yes, I am. + +_Ma._ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath +the Night Owl appear'd luckily? + +_Pa._ She flies for Fools. + +_Ma._ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand? + +_Pa._ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the +Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad +Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been +brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly +educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good +Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours +and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have +known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and +besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age, +Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that +which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very +well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in +themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may +be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me +prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy, +lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a +Denial. + +_Ma._ What would you have me say? + +_Pa._ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_ +after me. + +_Ma._ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus. + +_Pa._ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one. + +_Ma._ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you +should repent of when done. + +_Pa._ Leave off teasing me. + +_Ma._ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or +Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty. + +_Pa._ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I +don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your +Guest within it I am most in Love with. + +_Ma._ What Guest do you mean? + +_Pa._ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase. + +_Ma._ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that +through so many Coverings. + +_Pa._ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then +besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children. + +_Ma._ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead. + +_Pa._ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard, +would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees; +or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the +Boughs laden with ripe Apples? + +_Ma._ Oh, how cunningly you can argue! + +_Pa._ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine +lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an +Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour? + +_Ma._ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most +pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and +withering in the Hand? + +_Pa._ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there +delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the +Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the +most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is +to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon +as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage +look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the +Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have +brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom. + +_Ma._ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing. + +_Pa._ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous +than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should +never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren +Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us. + +_Ma._ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God. + +_Pa._ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live +chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies. +We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will +the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live +together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to +be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once. + +_Ma._ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be +learned? + +_Pa._ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn +to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he +that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them, +or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance? + +_Ma._ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty +can't debauch. + +_Pa._ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates +himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery? + +_Ma._ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman. + +_Pa._ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure +Matrimony? + +_Ma._ I think they do. + +_Pa._ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition. + +_Ma._ Is it not? + +_Pa._ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it +were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault +not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it. + +_Ma._ When does this Case happen? + +_Pa._ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially +if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation. + +_Ma._ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him? + +_Pa._ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but +if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few +Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account. + +_Ma._ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing. + +_Pa._ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and +you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our +Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage? + +_Ma._ Marriage is called a Halter. + +_Pa._ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your +Soul and Body bound together? + +_Ma._ Yes, I think they are. + +_Pa._ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed +from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that? +Because it is bound by its own Consent. + +_Ma._ But we have neither of us got much of Portion. + +_Pa._ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good +Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great +Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry. + +_Ma._ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them. + +_Pa._ Have done with Scruples. + +_Ma._ Would you have me marry a dead Man? + +_Pa._ No, but I shall come to Life again then. + +_Ma._ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell. + +_Pa._ Do you take Care of that. + +_Ma._ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh? + +_Pa._ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me. + +_Ma._ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty. + +_Pa._ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me? + +_Ma._ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart. + +_Pa._ But give me a Kiss too. + +_Ma._ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and +untouch'd. + +_Pa._ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity? + +_Ma._ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks? + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself. + +_Ma._ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I +dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present. + +_Pa._ What is that? + +_Ma._ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that +there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little +that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should +be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do +you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in +the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good. + + + + +_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She + is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her + Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her + Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may + be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living + in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He + abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids + into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no + other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits + are as it were buried alive._ + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eub._ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we +may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion +in the World. + +_Ca._ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table. + +_Eu._ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely +this is its Youth. + +_Ca._ Ay, so it is. + +_Eu._ But why is it not Spring with you too? + +_Ca._ What do you mean? + +_Eu._ Because you look a little dull. + +_Ca._ Why, don't I look as I use to do? + +_Eu._ Shall I show you how you look? + +_Ca._ With all my Heart. + +_Eu._ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night? + +_Ca._ Yes, I do see it: And what then? + +_Eu._ Why, just so you look. + +_Ca._ A very fine Comparison. + +_Eu._ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here. +What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so? + +_Ca._ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you. + +_Eu._ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful +myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep +one too! + +_Ca._ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not +tell it. + +_Eu._ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my +own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you +are safe. + +_Ca._ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the +better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good. + +_Eu._ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself, +perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation. + +_Ca._ I can't speak it out. + +_Eu._ What is the Matter? Do you hate me? + +_Ca._ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that +my Heart won't let me divulge it. + +_Eu._ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me +your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out. + +_Ca._ Well then, I do give you my Word. + +_Eu._ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want +of being compleatly happy. + +_Ca._ I would I were so. + +_Eu._ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you +are now in your seventeenth Year. + +_Ca._ That's true. + +_Eu._ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of +your Trouble. + +_Ca._ Nothing less, I assure you. + +_Eu._ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of +God. + +_Ca._ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain. + +_Eu._ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you +to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper. + +_Ca._ Nothing of that, I thank God. + +_Eu._ And besides, your Credit is fair. + +_Ca._ I trust it is. + +_Eu._ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the +Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in +order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences. + +_Ca._ If I have, I thank God for it. + +_Eu._ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met +with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither. + +_Ca._ I wish they were such as they should be. + +_Eu._ Some People are uneasy at the Meanness of their Extraction, but +your Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentiful +Fortunes, and very kind to you. + +_Ca._ I have nothing to complain of upon that Account. + +_Eu._ What Need of many Words? Of all the young Women in the Country you +are the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition to +pretend to't. + +_Ca._ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'd +to marry. + +_Eu._ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mind +so. + +_Ca._ It is no light Matter, you may depend upon it. + +_Eu._ You won't take it ill I hope if I guess at it. + +_Ca._ I have promis'd you I won't. + +_Eu._ I know by Experience what a Torment Love is. Come, confess now, is +that it? You promis'd to tell me. + +_Ca._ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that you +imagine. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Love is it that you mean? + +_Ca._ Guess. + +_Eu._ I have guess'd all the Guesses I can guess; but I'm resolv'd I'll +never let go this Hand till I have gotten it out of you. + +_Ca._ How violent you are. + +_Eu._ Whatever your Care is, repose it in my Breast. + +_Ca._ Since you are so urgent, I will tell you. From my very Infancy I +have had a very strong Inclination. + +_Eu._ To what, I beseech you? + +_Ca._ To put myself into a Cloyster. + +_Eu._ What, to be a Nun? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ Ho! I find I was out in my Notion; to leave a Shoulder of Mutton +for a Sheep's Head. + +_Ca._ What's that you say, _Eubulus_? + +_Eu._ Nothing, my Dear, I did but cough. But, go on, tell me it out. + +_Ca._ This was my Inclination; but my Parents were violently set against +it. + +_Eu._ I hear ye. + +_Ca._ On the other Hand, I strove by Intreaties, fair Words, and Tears, +to overcome that pious Aversion of my Parents. + +_Eu._ O strange! + +_Ca._ At Length when they saw I persisted in Intreaties, Prayers, and +Tears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I was +seventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Time +is now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from their +Words. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you my +Distemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can. + +_Eu._ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you to +moderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all that +you can. + +_Ca._ It will certainly be the Death of me, if I han't my Desire. + +_Eu._ What was it that gave the first Rise to this fatal Resolution? + +_Ca._ Formerly, when I was a little Girl, they carried me into one of +those Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me the +whole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd so +charming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smelt +so sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in short +which Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And then +I had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or three +that had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had a +strange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since. + +_Eu._ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the same +Thing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, as +far as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should rather +advise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your own +House, of which he should be the Abbot and you the Abbess. + +_Ca._ I will rather die than quit my Resolution of Virginity. + +_Eu._ Nay, it is indeed an admirable Thing to be a pure Virgin, but you +may keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, from +which you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home with +your Parents. + +_Ca._ Yes, I may, but it is not so safe there. + +_Eu._ Much safer truly in my Judgment there, than with those brawny, +swill-belly'd Monks. They are no Capons, I'll assure you, whatever you +may think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make good +their Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no where +honester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Father +they had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thou +made Choice of among 'em all, to be a Slave in? + +_Ca._ The _Chrysertian_. + +_Eu._ Oh! I know it, it is a little Way from your Father's House. + +_Ca._ You're right. + +_Eu._ I am very well acquainted with the whole Gang. A sweet Fellowship +to renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For the +Patriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain natural +Drowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish any +Thing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, that +match him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an ill +Man, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not a +Grain of Learning in him, and not much more common Prudence. And +_Jodocus_ he's so arrant a Sot, that if he were not ty'd up to the Habit +of his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears and +Bells at it. + +_Ca._ Truly they seem to me to be very good Men. + +_Eu._ But, my _Kitty_, I know 'em better than you do. They will do good +Offices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain a +Proselyte. + +_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me. + +_Eu._ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men to +Day, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them be +what they will then, you must bear with them. + +_Ca._ I am troubled to see so many Entertainments at my Father's House, +and marry'd Folks are so given to talk smutty; I'm put to't sometimes +when Men come to kiss me, and you know one can't well deny a Kiss. + +_Eu._ He that would avoid every Thing that offends him, must go out of +the World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but let +nothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allow +you a Chamber to yourself. + +_Ca._ Yes, they do. + +_Eu._ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company grow +troublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertain +yourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks: +Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the more +pure. + +_Ca._ But it is a great Deal safer to be in Virgins Company. + +_Eu._ I do not disapprove of a chaste Society: Yet I would not have you +delude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to be +throughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Things +won't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not all +Virgins that wear Vails; believe me. + +_Ca._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Eu._ Those are good Words that are true Words. I never read of but one +Virgin that was a Mother, _i.e._ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy we +appropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'd +Virgins after Childbearing. + +_Ca._ I abhor the Thoughts on't. + +_Eu._ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do more +than becomes Maids to do. + +_Ca._ Ay! why so, pray? + +_Eu._ Because there are more among 'em that imitate _Sappho_ in Manners, +than are like her in Wit. + +_Ca._ I don't very well understand you. + +_Eu._ My dear _Kitty_, I therefore speak in Cypher that you may not +understand me. + +_Ca._ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have a +strong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hath +continu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger and +stronger. + +_Eu._ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes me +suspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined your +Parents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affection +from the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles of +the Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, the +external Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of the +senseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they may +tipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful, +and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they know +he'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or else +they'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing without +your Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God would +have inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were a +religious Matter. + +_Ca._ In this Matter it is Piety to contemn Father and Mother. + +_Eu._ It is, I grant, sometimes a Piece of Piety to contemn Father or +Mother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not act +piously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who had +nothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, and +leave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ by +Baptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you would +indeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; or +if your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalous +Thing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what is +this to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have the +Dictates of Nature, the Approbation of Heaven, the Exhortation of St. +_Paul_, and the Obligation of human Laws, for your Obedience to Parents; +and will you now withdraw yourself from under the Authority of good and +natural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father, +rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of your +true Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents? +For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you be +at Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd +[_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition of +Servants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarily +a Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measure +cast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscure +Foot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out under +pretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed in +many Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then all +that you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of the +Door, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'd +her Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they change +the Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves in +old Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name that +was given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or +_Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, and +being to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If a +military Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he not +look'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him that +takes upon him a Habit that Christ the Master of us all never gave him? +He is punish'd more severely for the changing it again, than if he had a +hundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which is +the Innocency of his Mind. + +_Ca._ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into this +voluntary Confinement. + +_Eu._ That is a pharisaical Doctrine. St. _Paul_ teacheth us otherwise, +_and will not have him that is called free, make himself a Servant, but +rather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitude +the worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonly +Fools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, being +every now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, do +any Laws discharge you from your Duty to your Parents? + +_Ca._ No. + +_Eu._ Can you buy or sell an Estate against your Parents Consent? + +_Ca._ No, I can't. + +_Eu._ What Right have you then to give away yourself to I know not whom, +against your Parents Consent? Are you not their Child, the dearest and +most appropriate Part of their Possession? + +_Ca._ In the Business of Religion, the Laws of Nature give Place. + +_Eu._ The great Point of our Religion lies in our Baptism: But the +Matter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such a +Course of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And now +consider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose, +together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, or +sing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as you +please. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hear +Anthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virgin +remarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see any +Man that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn what +will make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and you +may chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you +come into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatest +Assistances in the Promotion of true Piety, you lose at once. + +_Ca._ But in the mean Time I shall not be a Nun. + +_Eu._ What signifies the Name? Consider the Thing itself. They make +their boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in being +obedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God has +commanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, when +all is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times were +in an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberality +towards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they had +possessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for living +with your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? A +Vail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, which +of themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make no +Body more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purity +of the Mind. + +_Ca._ This is News to me. + +_Eu._ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from the +Government of your Parents, can't dispose of, or sell so much as a Rag, +or an Inch of Ground, what Right can you pretend to for disposing of +yourself into the Service of a Stranger? + +_Ca._ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child +from entering into a religious Life. + +_Eu._ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of +Christ? + +_Ca._ They are so. + +_Eu._ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the +Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the +Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that +never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their +Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a +Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and +against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase +it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither +according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine +of _Christ_ or his Apostles. + +_Ca._ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without +my Parents Consent? + +_Eu._ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is +the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only +about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is +to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to +it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else. + +_Ca._ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest +Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents. + +_Eu._ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the +holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this, +bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they +can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents +to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it +too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I +pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to +Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents, +as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself. + +_Ca._ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life? + +_Eu._ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it, +that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of +it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially +those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly +into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the +rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out +of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at +Home. + +_Ca._ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet +this Affection of mine can't be removed. + +_Eu._ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could, +however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand. +In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations +may succeed better than my Counsel. + + + + +_The PENITENT VIRGIN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself, + goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the + Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten + unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd + Apparitions and Visions_. + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eu._ I could always wish to have such a Porter. + +_Ca._ And I to have such Visitors. + +_Eu._ But fare you well, _Kitty_. + +_Ca._ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute? + +_Eu._ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as +soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes? + +_Ca._ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better +Looks, and we'll be merry together. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Cattle have we got here? + +_Ca._ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had +their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is +gone, we will discourse as we use to do. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you +would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I +would fain have it from your Mouth. + +_Ca._ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to +be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than +you, that are the youngest of 'em all. + +_Eu._ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last? + +_Ca._ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and +then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought +over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by +several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like +one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in +their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let +Christ have his Spouse. + +_Eu._ O the Villany of Fools! But what then? + +_Ca._ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time +there were always with me some Women of the College that they call +_Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution, +and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come +at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making +ready, and the Provision for the Feast. + +_Eu._ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet? + +_Ca._ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had +rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again. + +_Eu._ What was that, pray? + +_Ca._ It is not to be uttered. + +_Eu._ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend. + +_Ca._ Will you keep Counsel? + +_Eu._ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better +than to doubt of it. + +_Ca._ I had a most dreadful Apparition. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this. + +_Ca._ I am fully persuaded it was an evil Spirit. + +_Eu._ Tell me what Shape it was in. Was it such as we use to paint with +a crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail? + +_Ca._ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, than +see such another. + +_Eu._ And were your Women Sollicitresses with you then? + +_Ca._ No, nor I would not so much as open my Lips of it to them, though +they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost +dead with the Surprise. + +_Eu._ Shall I tell you what it was? + +_Ca._ Do if you can. + +_Eu._ Those Women had certainly bewitch'd you, or conjur'd your Brain +out of your Head rather. But did you persist in your Resolution still, +for all this? + +_Ca._ Yes, for they told me, that many were thus troubled upon their +first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of +the Devil that Bout, he'd let them alone for ever after. + +_Eu._ Well, what Pomp were you carried out with? + +_Ca._ They put on all my Finery, let down my Hair, and dress'd me just +as if it had been for my Wedding. + +_Eu._ To a fat Monk, perhaps; Hem! a Mischief take this Cough. + +_Ca._ I was carried from my Father's House to the College by broad +Day-Light, and a World of People staring at me. + +_Eu._ O these Scaramouches, how they know to wheedle the poor People! +How many Days did you continue in that holy College of Virgins, +forsooth? + +_Ca._ Till Part of the twelfth Day. + +_Eu._ But what was it that changed your Mind, that had been so +resolutely bent upon it? + +_Ca._ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something very +considerable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; I +begged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out of +the College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to my +Resolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, telling +me, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make me +master mine, and not disgrace him, by starting from my Purpose. At last, +when I saw that I could do no good with them this Way, I told my Father +and Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and that +would certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that very +quickly too; and upon this, they took me Home. + +_Eu._ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'd +yourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changed +your Mind so suddenly. + +_Ca._ I never told any Mortal yet, nor shall. + +_Eu._ What if I should guess? + +_Ca._ I'm sure you can't guess it; and if you do, I won't tell you. + +_Eu._ Well, for all that, I guess what it was. But in the mean Time, you +have been at a great Charge. + +_Ca._ Above 400 Crowns. + +_Eu._ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money is +gone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counsel +when it is given you. + +_Ca._ So I will. _The burnt Child dreads the Fire._ + + + + +_The UNEASY WIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy, entitled_, The uneasy Wife: _Or_, Uxor + [Greek: Mempsigamos], _treats of many Things that relate + to the mutual Nourishment of conjugal Affection. + Concerning the concealing a Husband's Faults; of not + interrupting conjugal Benevolence; of making up + Differences; of mending a Husband's Manners; of a Woman's + Condescension to her Husband. What is the Beauty of a + Woman; she disgraces herself, that disgraces her Husband; + that the Wife ought to submit to the Husband; that the + Husband ought not to be out of Humour when the Wife is; + and on the Contrary; that they ought to study mutual + Concord, since there is no Room for Advice; that they + ought to conceal one another's Faults, and not expose one + another; that it is in the Power of the Wife to mend her + Husband; that she ought to carry herself engagingly, + learn his Humour, what provokes him or appeases him; that + all Things be in Order at Home; that he have what he + likes best to eat; that if the Husband be vext, the Wife + don't laugh; if he be angry, that she should speak + pleasantly to him, or hold her Tongue; that what she + blames him for, should be betwixt themselves; the Method + of admonishing; that she ought to make her Complaint to + no Body but her Husband's Parents; or to some peculiar + Friends that have an Influence upon him. The Example of a + prudent Man, excellently managing a young morose Wife, by + making his Complaint to her Father. Another of a prudent + Wife, that by her good Carriage reformed a Husband that + frequented leud Company, Another of a Man that had beaten + his Wife in his angry Fit; that Husbands are to be + overcome, brought into Temper by Mildness, Sweetness, and + Kindness; that there should be no Contention in the + Chamber or in the Bed; but that Care should be taken, + that nothing but Pleasantness and Engagingness be there. + The Girdle of_ Venus _is Agreeableness of Manners. + Children make a mutual Amity. That a Woman separated from + her Husband, is nothing: Let her always be mindful of the + Respect that is due to a Husband._ + + +EULALIA, XANTIPPE. + +_EU._ Most welcome _Xantippe_, a good Morning to you. + +_Xa._ I wish you the same, my dear _Eulalia_. Methinks you look prettier +than you use to do. + +_Eu._ What, do you begin to banter me already? + +_Xa._ No, upon my Word, for you seem so to me. + +_Eu._ Perhaps then my new Cloaths may set me off to Advantage. + +_Xa._ You guess right, it is one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld in +all my Life. It is _English_ Cloth, I suppose. + +_Eu._ It is indeed of _English_ Wool, but it is a _Venetian_ Dye. + +_Xa._ It is as soft as Silk, and 'tis a charming Purple. Who gave you +this fine Present? + +_Eu._ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents but +from him? + +_Xa._ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a good +Husband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I was +married to my _Nick_. + +_Eu._ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between you +already? + +_Xa._ There is no Possibility of agreeing with such a one as I have got. +You see what a ragged Condition I am in; so he lets me go like a Dowdy! +May I never stir, if I an't asham'd to go out of Doors any whither, when +I see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so rich +as mine is. + +_Eu._ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or other +Deckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard that +lately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and the +Ornaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of many +but we are well enough drest, if we do but please our own Husbands. + +_Xa._ But mean while this worthy Tool of mine, that is so sparing toward +his Wife, lavishly squanders away the Portion I brought along with me, +which by the Way was not a mean one. + +_Eu._ In what? + +_Xa._ Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes at the Tavern, sometimes upon +his Whores, sometimes a gaming. + +_Eu._ O fie, you should never say so of your Husband. + +_Xa._ But I'm sure 'tis too true; and then when he comes Home, after I +have been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunk +as _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by my +Side, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more. + +_Eu._ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing your +Husband. + +_Xa._ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such a +Husband as I have got. + +_Eu._ Don't you scold at him then? + +_Xa._ Yes, indeed, I use him as he deserves. He finds I have got a +Tongue in my Head. + +_Eu._ Well, and what does he say to you again? + +_Xa._ At first he used to hector at me lustily, thinking to fright me +with his big Words. + +_Eu._ Well, and did your Words never come to downright Blows? + +_Xa._ Once, and but once, and then the Quarrel rose to that Height on +both Sides, that we were within an Ace of going to Fisty-Cuffs. + +_Eu._ How, Woman! say you so? + +_Xa._ He held up his Stick at me, swearing and cursing like a +Foot-Soldier, and threatening me dreadfully. + +_Eu._ Were not you afraid then? + +_Xa._ Nay, I snatch'd up a three legg'd Stool, and if he had but touch'd +me with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman of +Spirit. + +_Eu._ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming. + +_Xa._ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use him +like a Husband. + +_Eu._ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to their +own Husbands with all Reverence. And St. _Peter_ proposes the Example of +_Sarah_ to us, who call'd her Husband _Abraham_ Lord. + +_Xa._ I have heard those Things, but the same _Paul_ likewise teaches +that _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse the +Church_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine. + +_Eu._ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one must +submit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to her +Husband. + +_Xa._ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me like +a Kitchen Wench. + +_Eu._ But tell me, _Xantippe_, did he leave off threatening after this? + +_Xa._ He did leave off, and it was his Wisdom so to do, or else he would +have been thresh'd. + +_Eu._ But did not you leave off Scolding at him? + +_Xa._ No, nor never will. + +_Eu._ But what does he do in the mean Time? + +_Xa._ What! Why sometimes he pretends himself to be fast asleep, and +sometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes he +catches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it with +all his Might, and drowns the Noise of my Bawling. + +_Eu._ And does not that vex you to the Heart? + +_Xa._ Ay, so that it is impossible to be express'd, so that sometimes I +can scarce keep my Hands off of him. + +_Eu._ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely with +you. + +_Xa._ I do give you Leave. + +_Eu._ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, which +has been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this. + +_Xa._ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I more +dearly lov'd than you. + +_Eu._ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, That +there is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy for +irreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: He +must be your Husband and you his Wife to the very last Day of Life. + +_Xa._ The Gods did very wrong that depriv'd us of this Privilege. + +_Eu._ Have a Care what you say. It was the Will of Christ. + +_Xa._ I can scarce believe it. + +_Eu._ It is as I tell you. Now you have nothing left to do but to study +to suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agree +together. + +_Xa._ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him? + +_Eu._ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbands +shall be. + +_Xa._ Do you and your Husband agree very well together? + +_Eu._ All is quiet with us now. + +_Xa._ Well then, you had some Difference at first. + +_Eu._ Never any Thing of a Storm; but yet, as it is common with human +Kind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'd +a Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one has +his Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speak +the Truth, every one his Faults, more or less, which if in any State, +certainly in Matrimony we ought to connive at, and not to hate. + +_Xa._ You speak very right. + +_Eu._ It frequently happens that that mutual Love that ought to be +between the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughly +acquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to be +provided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, it +is a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially if +it ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. Those +Things that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one from +another if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once they +have been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothing +more firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken that +good Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in the +Infancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness, +and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only upon +Beauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd. + +_Xa._ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to your +Humour. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you for this End, that you may copy after me. + +_Xa._ Well, I will, if I can. + +_Eu._ It will be very easy to do, if you will; nor is it too late yet; +for he is in the Flower of his Youth, and you are but a Girl; and as I +take it, have not been married this Twelve Months yet. + +_Xa._ You are very right. + +_Eu._ Then I'll tell you; but upon Condition, that you'll not speak of +it. + +_Xa._ Well, I will not. + +_Eu._ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in every +Respect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed his +Inclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiest +Moments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to do +who tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can't +be master'd by downright Strength. + +_Xa._ And such an Animal have I at Home. + +_Eu._ Those that go near Elephants, wear no Garment that is white; nor +those who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, that +these Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers are +made so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their own +selves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and +Stroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: How +much more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, with +whom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed and +Board? + +_Xa._ Well, go on with what you have begun. + +_Eu._ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, taking +Care that nothing should offend him. + +_Xa._ How could you do that? + +_Eu._ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is the +peculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that every +Thing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the most +minute Things. + +_Xa._ What Things? + +_Eu._ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, or +liked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made after +such or such a Manner. + +_Xa._ But how could you humour one who was never at Home, or was drunk? + +_Eu._ Have Patience, I was coming to that Point. If at any Time my +Husband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, I +did not laugh, and put on a gay Humour, as some Women are us'd to do; +but I put on a grave demure Countenance, as well as he. For as a +Looking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Person +that looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper of +her Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry when +he is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I either +endeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till his +Passion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered, +either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the same +Method, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time never +gave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, I +might get him to go to Bed. + +_Xa._ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must only +humour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thing +that they have a Mind to do. + +_Eu._ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands are +not forc'd to bear with many of our Humours: However, there is a Time, +when a Wife may take the Freedom in a Matter of some Importance to +advise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink at +them. + +_Xa._ But what Time is that? + +_Eu._ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor in +the Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advise +him, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this or +that Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. And +this very Advice is to be season'd with witty Jests and Pleasantries. +Sometimes by Way of Preface, I make a Bargain with him before-Hand, that +he shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me +to advise him in any Thing, that might seem to concern his Honour, +Health, or Preservation. When I have said what I had a Mind to say, I +break off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertaining +Subject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that when +once we have begun, we don't know when to make an End. + +_Xa._ Why, so they say, indeed. + +_Eu._ This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband +before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes +between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken +Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born +with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife, +it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's +Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint, +that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And +not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love +his Wife for her Civility. + +_Xa._ A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this. + +_Eu._ By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility. + +_Xa._ But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by +the utmost good Carriage. + +_Eu._ In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First, +consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he +will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little +better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him +grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of +Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses +much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands +after this Manner? + +_Xa._ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my +Husband, as black is from white. + +_Eu._ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble +Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a +young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated +all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love +to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a +Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily +form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in +Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of +Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which +would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to +the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip +and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to +submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd +her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw +herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as +tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this, +conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with +him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a +little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When +they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters, +and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside +privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes +to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that +was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any +Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his +Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once +put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might +use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law +replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be +reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities. +The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a +Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone +with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her +how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how +often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a +Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the +best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being +sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a +Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would +scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you +are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so +hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands +off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any +Part, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, and +partly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at her +Father's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time to +come, she would be mindful of her Duty. Her Father freely forgave her, +and also promised, that he would be to her a very indulgent Father, +provided she perform'd what she promis'd. + +_Xa._ Well, what happened after that? + +_Eu._ The young Lady going away, after her Fathers Discourse was ended, +went directly into her Chamber, and finding her Husband alone, she fell +down on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neither +knew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find me +another Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. The +Husband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thing +she could desire, if she did but continue in that Resolution. + +_Xa._ What! Did she continue in it? + +_Eu._ Even to her dying Day; nor was any Thing so mean, but she readily +and chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So great +a Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the young +Lady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marry +such a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the most +wretched Woman alive. + +_Xa._ Such Husbands are as scarce now a Days as white Crows. + +_Eu._ Now if it will not be tedious to you, I'll tell you a Story, that +lately happen'd in this City, of a Husband that was reclaimed by the +good Management of his Wife. + +_Xa._ I have nothing to do at present, and your Conversation is very +diverting. + +_Eu._ There is a certain Gentleman of no mean Descent; he, like the rest +of his Quality, used often to go a Hunting: Being in the Country, he +happen'd to see a young Damsel, the Daughter of a poor old Woman, and +began to fall desperately in love with her. He was a Man pretty well in +Years; and for the Sake of this young Maid, he often lay out a Nights, +and his Pretence for it was Hunting. His Wife, a Woman of an admirable +Temper, suspecting something more than ordinary, went in search to find +out her Husband's Intrigues, and having discover'd them, by I can't tell +what Method, she goes to the Country Cottage, and learnt all the +Particulars where he lay, what he drank, and what Manner of +Entertainment he had at Table. There was no Furniture in the House, +nothing but naked Walls. The Gentlewoman goes Home, and quickly after +goes back again, carrying with her a handsome Bed and Furniture, some +Plate and Money, bidding them to treat him with more Respect, if at any +Time he came there again. A few Days after, her Husband steals an +Opportunity to go thither, and sees the Furniture increas'd, and finds +his Entertainment more delicate than it us'd to be; he enquir'd from +whence this unaccustomed Finery came: They said, that a certain honest +Gentlewoman of his Acquaintance, brought these Things; and gave them in +Charge, that he should be treated with more Respect for the future. He +presently suspected that this was done by his Wife. When he came Home, +he ask'd her if she had been there. She did not deny it. Then he ask'd +her for what Reason she had sent thither that household Furniture? My +Dear, says she, you are us'd to a handsomer Way of Living: I found that +you far'd hardly there, I thought it my Duty, since you took a Fancy to +the Place, that your Reception should be more agreeable. + +_Xa._ A Wife good even to an Excess. I should sooner have sent him a +Bundle of Nettles and Thorns, than furnish'd him with a fine Bed. + +_Eu._ But hear the Conclusion of my Story; the Gentleman was so touch'd, +seeing so much good Nature and Temper in his Wife, that he never after +that violated her Bed, but solaced himself with her at Home. I know you +know _Gilbert_ the _Dutchman_. + +_Xa._ I know him. + +_Eu._ He, you know, in the prime of his Age, marry'd a Gentlewoman well +stricken in Years, and in a declining Age. + +_Xa._ It may be he marry'd the Portion, and not the Woman. + +_Eu._ So it was. He having an Aversion to his Wife, was over Head and +Ears in Love with a young Woman, with whom he us'd ever and anon to +divert himself abroad. He very seldom either din'd or supp'd at home. +What would you have done, if this had been your Case, _Xantippe_? + +_Xa._ Why I would have torn his beloved Strumpet's Headcloths off, and I +would have wash'd him well with a Chamber-Pot, when he was going to her, +that he might have gone thus perfum'd to his Entertainment. + +_Eu._ But how much more prudently did this Gentlewoman behave herself. +She invited his Mistress home to her House, and treated her with all the +Civility imaginable. So she kept her Husband without any magical Charms. +And if at any Time he supp'd abroad with her, she sent them thither some +Nicety or other, desiring them to be merry together. + +_Xa._ As for me, I would sooner chuse to lose my Life than to be Bawd to +my own Husband. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time, pray consider the Matter soberly and coolly. +Was not this much better, than if she had by her ill Temper totally +alienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole Life in +quarrelling and brawling. + +_Xa._ I believe, that of two Evils it was the least, but I could never +have submitted to it. + +_Eu._ I will add one more, and then I'll have done with Examples. A +next Door Neighbour of ours is a very honest, good Man, but a little too +subject to Passion. One Day he beat his Wife, a Woman of commendable +Prudence. She immediately withdrew into a private Room, and there gave +Vent to her Grief by Tears and Sighs. Soon after upon some Occasion her +Husband came into the Room, and found his Wife all in Tears. What's the +Matter, says he, that you're crying and sobbing like a Child? To which +she prudently reply'd, Why, says she, is it not much better to lament my +Misfortune here, than if I should make a Bawling in the Street, as other +Women do? The Man's Mind was so overcome and mollified by this Answer, +so like a Wife, that giving her his Hand, he made a solemn Promise to +his Wife, he would never lay his Hand upon her after, as long as he +liv'd. Nor did he ever do it. + +_Xa._ I have obtain'd as much from my Husband, but by a different +Conduct. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time there are perpetual Wars between you. + +_Xa._ What then would you have me to do? + +_Eu._ If your Husband offers you any Affront, you must take no Notice of +it, but endeavour to gain his good Will by all good Offices, courteous +Carriage, and Meekness of Spirit, and by these Methods, you will in +Time, either wholly reclaim him, or at least you will live with him much +more easy than now you do. + +_Xa._ Ay, but he's too ill-natur'd to be wrought upon by all the kind +Offices in the World. + +_Eu._ Hold, don't say so, there is no Beast that is so savage but he may +be tam'd by good Management; therefore don't despair of it as to a Man. +Do but make the Experiment for a few Months, and if you do not find that +this Advice has been of Benefit to you, blame me. And there are also +some Faults that you must wink at; but above all Things, it is my +Opinion, you ought to avoid ever to begin any Quarrel either in the +Bed-Chamber, or in Bed, and to take a special Care that every Thing +there be chearful and pleasant. For if that Place which is consecrated +for the wiping out old Miscarriages and the cementing of Love, comes to +be unhallowed by Contention and Sourness of Temper, all Remedy for the +Reconcilement is taken away. For there are some Women of so morose +Tempers that they will be querulous, and scold even while the Rites of +Love are performing, and will by the Uneasiness of their Tempers render +that Fruition itself disagreeable which is wont to discharge the Minds +of Men from any Heart-burning, that they may have had; and by this Means +they spoil that Cordial, by which Misunderstandings in Matrimony might +be cured. + +_Xa._ That has been often my Case. + +_Eu._ And tho' it ought always to be the Care of a Wife, not to make her +Husband uneasy in any Thing; yet that ought to be especially her Care to +study, in conjugal Embraces to render herself by all ways possible, +agreeable and delightful to her Husband. + +_Xa._ To a Man, indeed! But I have to do with an untractable Beast. + +_Eu._ Come, come, leave off Railing. For the most part Husbands are made +bad, by our bad Conduct. But to return to our Argument, those that are +conversant in the antient Fables of the Poets, tell you that _Venus_, +(whom they make a Goddess, that presides over Matrimony) had a Girdle or +_Cestus_ which was made for her by _Vulcan's_ Art, in which were +interwoven all bewitching Ingredients of an amorous Medicament, and that +she put this on whenever she went to bed to her Husband. + +_Xa._ I hear a Fable. + +_Eu._ It is true: But hear the Moral of it. + +_Xa._ Tell it me. + +_Eu._ That teaches that a Wife ought to use all the Care imaginable to +be so engaging to her Husband in conjugal Embraces, that matrimonial +Affection may be retain'd and renew'd, and if there has been any +Distaste or Aversion, it may be expell'd the Mind. + +_Xa._ But where can a Body get this Girdle? + +_Eu._ There is no Need of Witchcrafts and Spells to procure one. There +is no Enchantment so effectual as Virtue, join'd with a Sweetness of +Disposition. + +_Xa._ I can't be able to bring myself to humour such a Husband as I have +got. + +_Eu._ But this is for your Interest, that he would leave off to be such +a bad Husband. If you could by _Circe_'s Art transform your Husband into +a Swine or a Bear, would you do it? + +_Xa._ I can't tell, whether I should or no. + +_Eu._ Which had you rather have, a Swine to your Husband, or a Man? + +_Xa._ In Truth, I had rather have a Man. + +_Eu._ Well, come on. What if you could by _Circe_'s Arts make him a +sober Man of a Drunkard, a frugal Man of a Spendthrift, a diligent Man +of an idle Fellow, would you not do it? + +_Xa._ To be sure, I would do it. But how shall I attain the Art? + +_Eu._ You have the Art in yourself, if you would but make Use of it. +Whether you will or no he must be your Husband, and the better Man you +make him, the more you consult your own Advantage. You only keep your +Eyes fix'd upon his Faults, and those aggravate your Aversion to him; +and only hold him by this Handle, which is such a one that he cannot be +held by; but rather take Notice of what good Qualities he has, and hold +him by this Handle, which is a Handle he may be held by: Before you +married him, you had Time of considering what his Defects were. A +Husband is not to be chosen by the Eyes only, but by the Ears too. Now +'tis your Time to cure him, and not to find Fault with him. + +_Xa._ What Woman ever made Choice of a Husband by her Ears? + +_Eu._ She chuses a Husband by her Eyes, which looks at nothing else but +his Person and bare Outside: She chuses him by her Ears, who carefully +observes what Reputation he has in the World. + +_Xa._ This is good Advice, but it is too late. + +_Eu._ But it is not too late to endeavour to amend your Husband. It will +contribute something to the Matter, if you could have any Children by +him. + +_Xa._ I have had one. + +_Eu._ When? + +_Xa._ A long Time ago. + +_Eu._ How many Months? + +_Xa._ Why, about Seven. + +_Eu._ What do I hear! You put me in Mind of the Joke of the three Months +Lying in. + +_Xa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ It must be so, if you reckon from the Day of Marriage. + +_Xa._ But I had some private Discourse with him before Marriage. + +_Eu._ Are Children got by Talking? + +_Xa._ He having by Chance got me into a Room by myself, began to play +with me, tickling me about the Arm-pits and Sides, to make me laugh, and +I not being able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flat +upon the Bed, and he lying upon me, kiss'd me, and I don't know what he +did to me besides; but this is certain, within a few Days after, my +Belly began to swell. + +_Eu._ Get you gone now, and slight a Husband, who if he can get Children +jesting, what will he do if he sets about it in earnest? + +_Xa._ I suspect that I am now with Child by him again. + +_Eu._ O brave! to a good Soil, here's a good Ploughman to till it. + +_Xa._ As to this Affair, he's better than I wish he was. + +_Eu._ Very few Wives have this Complaint to make: But, I suppose, the +Marriage Contract was made between you, before this happened. + +_Xa._ It was made. + +_Eu._ Then the Sin was so much the less. Is your Child a Boy? + +_Xa._ It is. + +_Eu._ That will reconcile you both, if you will but qualify yourself a +little for it. What Sort of Character do your Husband's Companions give +him? And what Company does he keep when he is abroad? + +_Xa._ They give him the Character of an exceeding good-humour'd, +courteous, generous Man, and a true Friend to his Friend. + +_Eu._ These Things give me great Hopes, that he will become such as we +would have him be. + +_Xa._ But I am the only Person he is not so to. + +_Eu._ Do you but be to him what I have told you, and if he does not +begin to be so to you, instead of _Eulalia_ (a good Speaker), call me +_Pseudolalia_ (a prating Liar); and besides, consider this, that he's +but a young Man yet, I believe not above twenty-four Years of Age, and +does not yet know what it is to be the Master of a Family. You must +never think of a Divorce now. + +_Xa._ But I have thought on it a great many Times. + +_Eu._ But if ever that Thought comes into your Mind again, first of all +consider with yourself, what an insignificant Figure a Woman makes when +she is parted from her Husband. It is the greatest Glory of a Matron, to +be obedient to her Husband. This Nature dictates, and it is the Will of +God, that the Woman should wholly depend upon her Husband: Only think, +as it really is, he is your Husband, you cannot have another. Then call +to Mind that the little Boy belongs to you both. What would you do with +him? Would you take him away with you? Then will you defraud your +Husband of his own. Will you leave him to him? Then you will deprive +yourself of that, than which nothing is more dear. Last of all, tell me, +is there any Body that wishes you ill? + +_Xa._ I have a Step-Mother, and a Mother-in-Law, as like her as may be. + +_Eu._ And they wish you ill, do they? + +_Xa._ They wish me in my Grave. + +_Eu._ Then think of them likewise. What can you be able to do, that +would be more grateful to them, than if they should see you divorc'd +from your Husband; a Widow, nay, to live, a Widow bewitcht, worse than a +Widow? For Widows may marry again. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Advice; but can't bear the Thoughts of being +always a Slave. + +_Eu._ Recount what Pains you took before you could teach that Parrot to +prattle. + +_Xa._ A great Deal indeed. + +_Eu._ And yet you think much to bestow a little Pains to mould your +Husband, with whom you may live a pleasant Life all your Days. What a +Deal of Pains do Men take to render a Horse tractable to them: And shall +we think much to take a little Pains to render our Husbands more +agreeable? + +_Xa._ What must I do? + +_Eu._ I have told you already, take Care that all Things be neat, and in +Order at Home, that there be nothing discomposing, to make him go out of +Doors; behave yourself easy and free to him, always remembring that +Respect which is due from a Wife to a Husband. Let all Melancholy and +ill-tim'd Gaiety be banished out of Doors; be not morose nor +frolicksome. Let your Table be handsomely provided. You know your +Husband's Palate, dress that which he likes best. Behave yourself +courteously and affably to those of his Acquaintance he respects. Invite +them frequently to Dinner; let all Things be pleasant and chearful at +Table. Lastly, if at any Time he happens to come Home a little merry +with Wine, and shall fall to playing on his Fiddle, do you sing, to him, +so you will gradually inure your Husband to keep at Home, and also +lessen his Expences: For he will thus reason with himself; was not I mad +with a Witness, who live abroad with a nasty Harlot, to the apparent +Prejudice of my Estate and Reputation, when I have at Home a Wife much +more entertaining and affectionate to me, with whom I may be entertained +more handsomely and more plentifully? + +_Xa._ Do you think I shall succeed, if I try? + +_Eu._ Look to me for that. I engage that you will: In the mean Time I'll +talk to your Husband, and put him in Mind of his Duty. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Design; but take Care that he mayn't discover +any Thing of what has past between us two, for he would throw the House +out of the Windows. + +_Eu._ Don't fear, I'll order my Discourse so by Turnings and Windings, +that he shall tell me himself, what Quarrels have happened between you. +When I have brought this about, I'll treat him after my Way, as +engagingly as can be, and I hope, shall render him to you better +temper'd: I'll likewise take Occasion to tell a Lie or two in your +Favour, how lovingly and respectfully you spoke of him. + +_Xa._ Heaven prosper both our Undertakings. + +_Eu._ It will, I doubt not, if you are not wanting to yourself. + + + + +_The SOLDIER and CARTHUSIAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets out to the Life, the Madness of young + Men that run into the Wars, and the Life of a pious + Carthusian, which without the love of Study, can't but be + melancholy and unpleasant. The Manners of Soldiers, the + Manners and Diet of Carthusians. Advice in chusing a Way + of getting a Livelihood. The Conveniency of a single + Life, to be at Leisure for Reading and Meditation. Wicked + Soldiers oftentimes butcher Men for a pitiful Reward. The + daily Danger of a Soldier's Life._ + + +_The_ SOLDIER _and_ CARTHUSIAN. + +_Sol._ Good Morrow, my Brother. + +_Cart._ Good Morrow to you, dear Cousin. + +_Sol._ I scarce knew you. + +_Cart._ Am I grown so old in two Years Time? + +_Sol._ No; but your bald Crown, and your new Dress, make you look to me +like another Sort of Creature. + +_Cart._ It may be you would not know your own Wife, if she should meet +you in a new Gown. + +_Sol._ No; not if she was in such a one as yours. + +_Cart._ But I know you very well, who are not altered as to your Dress; +but your Face, and the whole Habit of your Body: Why, how many Colours +are you painted with? No Bird had ever such a Variety of Feathers. How +all is cut and slash'd! Nothing according to Nature or Fashion! your cut +Hair, your half-shav'd Beard, and that Wood upon your upper Lip, +entangled and standing out straggling like the Whiskers of a Cat. Nor is +it one single Scar that has disfigured your Face, that you may very well +be taken for one of the _Samian literati_, [q.d. burnt in the Cheek] +concerning whom there is a joking Proverb. + +_Sol._ Thus it becomes a Man to come back from the Wars. But, pray, tell +me, was there so great a Scarcity of good Physicians in this Quarter of +the World? + +_Cart._ Why do you ask? + +_Sol._ Because you did not get the Distemper of your Brain cur'd, before +you plung'd yourself into this Slavery. + +_Cart._ Why, do you think I was mad then? + +_Sol._ Yes, I do. What Occasion was there for you to be buried here, +before your Time, when you had enough in the World to have lived +handsomely upon? + +_Cart._ What, don't you think I live in the World now? + +_Sol._ No, by _Jove_. + +_Cart._ Tell me why. + +_Sol._ Because you can't go where you list. You are confin'd in this +Place as in a Coop. Besides, your bald Pate, and your prodigious strange +Dress, your Lonesomeness, your eating Fish perpetually, so that I admire +you are not turn'd into a Fish. + +_Cart._ If Men were turn'd into what they eat, you had long ago been +turn'd into a Hog, for you us'd to be a mighty Lover of Pork. + +_Sol._ I don't doubt but you have repented of what you have done, long +enough before now, for I find very few that don't repent of it. + +_Cart._ This usually happens to those who plunge themselves headlong +into this Kind of Life, as if they threw themselves into a Well; but I +have enter'd into it warily and considerately, having first made Trial +of myself, and having duly examined the whole Ratio of this Way of +Living, being twenty-eight Years of Age, at which Time, every one may be +suppos'd to know himself. And as for the Place, you are confined in a +small Compass as well as I, if you compare it to the Extent of the +whole World. Nor does it signify any Thing how large the Place is, as +long as it wants nothing of the Conveniences of Life. There are many +that seldom stir out of the City in which they were born, which if they +were prohibited from going out, would be very uneasy, and would be +wonderfully desirous to do it. This is a common Humour, that I am not +troubled with. I fancy this Place to be the whole World to me, and this +Map represents the whole Globe of the Earth, which I can travel over in +Thought with more Delight and Security than he that sails to the +new-found Islands. + +_Sol._ What you say as to this, comes pretty near the Truth. + +_Cart._ You can't blame me for shaving my Head, who voluntarily have +your own Hair clipp'd, for Conveniency Sake. Shaving, to me, if it does +nothing else, certainly keeps my Head more clean, and perhaps more +healthful too. How many Noblemen at _Venice_ shave their Heads all over? +What has my Garment in it that is monstrous? Does it not cover my Body? +Our Garments are for two Uses, to defend us from the Inclemency of the +Weather, and to cover our Nakedness. Does not this Garment answer both +these Ends? But perhaps the Colour offends you. What Colour is more +becoming Christians than that which was given to all in Baptism? It has +been said also, _Take a white Garment_; so that this Garment puts me in +Mind of what I promised in Baptism, that is, the perpetual Study of +Innocency. And besides, if you call that Solitude which is only a +retiring from the Crowd, we have for this the Example, not only of our +own, but of the ancient Prophets, the _Ethnick_ Philosophers, and all +that had any Regard to the keeping a good Conscience. Nay, Poets, +Astrologers, and Persons devoted to such-like Arts, whensoever they take +in Hand any Thing that's great and beyond the Sphere of the common +People, commonly betake themselves to a Retreat. But why should you call +this Kind of Life Solitude? The Conversation of one single Friend drives +away the Tædium of Solitude. I have here more than sixteen Companions, +fit for all Manner of Conversation. And besides, I have Friends who +come to visit me oftner than I would have them, or is convenient Do I +then, in your Opinion, live melancholy? + +_Sol._ But you cannot always have these to talk with. + +_Cart._ Nor is it always expedient: For Conversation is the pleasanter, +for being something interrupted. + +_Sol._ You don't think amiss; for even to me myself, Flesh relishes much +better after Lent. + +_Cart._ And more than that, when I seem to be most alone, I don't want +Companions, which are by far more delightful and entertaining than those +common Jesters. + +_Sol._ Where are they? + +_Cart._ Look you, here are the four Evangelists. In this Book he that so +pleasantly commun'd with the two Disciples in the Way going to _Emaus_, +and who by his heavenly Discourse caus'd them not to be sensible of the +Fatigue of their Journey, but made their Hearts burn within them with a +divine Ardour of hearing his sweet Words, holds Conversation with me. In +this I converse with _Paul_, with _Isaiah_, and the rest of the +Prophets. Here the most sweet _Chrysostom_ converses with me, and +_Basil_, and _Austin_, and _Jerome_, and _Cyprian_, and the rest of the +Doctors that are both learned and eloquent. Do you know any such +pleasant Companions abroad in the World, that you can have Conversation +with? Do you think I can be weary of Retirement, in such Society as +this? And I am never without it. + +_Sol._ But they would speak to me to no Purpose, who do not understand +them. + +_Cart._ Now for our Diet, what signifies it with what Food this Body of +ours is fed which is satisfied with very little, if we live according to +Nature? Which of us two is in the best Plight? You who live upon +Partridges, Pheasants and Capons; or I who live upon Fish? + +_Sol._ If you had a Wife as I have, you would not be so lusty. + +_Cart._ And for that Reason, any Food serves us, let it be never so +little. + +_Sol._ But in the mean Time, you live the Life of a _Jew_. + +_Cart._ Forbear Reflections: If we cannot come up to Christianity, at +least we follow after it. + +_Sol._ You put too much Confidence in Habits, Meats, Forms of Prayer, +and outward Ceremonies, and neglect the Study of Gospel Religion. + +_Cart._ It is none of my Business to judge what others do: As to myself, +I place no Confidence in these Things, I attribute nothing to them; but +I put my Confidence in Purity of Mind, and in _Christ_ himself. + +_Sol._ Why do you observe these Things then? + +_Cart._ That I may be at Peace with my Brethren, and give no Body +Offence. I would give no Offence to any one for the Sake of these +trivial Things, which it is but a very little Trouble to observe. As we +are Men, let us wear what Cloaths we will. Men are so humoursome, the +Agreement or Disagreement in the most minute Matters, either procures or +destroys Concord. The shaving of the Head, or Colour of the Habit does +not indeed, of themselves, recommend me to God: But what would the +People say, if I should let my Hair grow, or put on your Habit? I have +given you my Reasons for my Way of Life; now, pray, in your Turn, give +me your Reasons for yours, and tell me, were there no good Physicians in +your Quarter, when you listed yourself for a Soldier, leaving a young +Wife and Children at Home, and was hired for a pitiful Pay to cut Men's +Throats, and that with the Hazard of your own Life too? For your +Business did not lie among Mushrooms and Poppies, but armed Men. What do +you think is a more unhappy Way of living, for a poor Pay, to murder a +Fellow Christian, who never did you Harm, and to run yourself Body and +Soul into eternal Damnation? + +_Sol._ Why, it is lawful to kill an Enemy. + +_Cart._ Perhaps it may be so, if he invades your native Country: Nay, +and it is pious too, to fight for your Wife, Children, your Parents and +Friends, your Religion and Liberties, and the publick Peace. But what is +all that to your fighting for Money? If you had been knocked on the +Head, I would not have given a rotten Nut to redeem the very Soul of +you. + +_Sol._ No? + +_Cart._ No, by Christ, I would not. Now which do you think is the harder +Task, to be obedient to a good Man, which we call Prior, who calls us to +Prayers, and holy Lectures, the Hearing of the saving Doctrine, and to +sing to the Glory of God: Or, to be under the Command of some barbarous +Officer, who often calls you out to fatiguing Marches at Midnight, and +sends you out, and commands you back at his Pleasure, exposes you to the +Shot of great Guns, assigns you a Station where you must either kill or +be killed? + +_Sol._ There are more Evils than you have mentioned yet. + +_Cart._ If I shall happen to deviate from the Discipline of my Order, my +Punishment is only Admonition, or some such slight Matter: But in War, +if you do any Thing contrary to the General's Orders, you must either be +hang'd for it, or run the Gantlope; for it would be a Favour to have +your Head cut off. + +_Sol._ I can't deny what you say to be true. + +_Cart._ And now your Habit bespeaks, that you han't brought much Money +Home, after all your brave Adventures. + +_Sol._ As for Money, I have not had a Farthing this good While; nay, I +have gotten a good Deal into Debt, and for that Reason I come hither out +of my Way, that you might furnish me with some Money to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I wish you had come out of your Way hither, when you hurried +yourself into that wicked Life of a Soldier. But how come you so bare? + +_Sol._ Do you ask that? Why, whatsoever I got of Pay, Plunder, +Sacrilege, Rapine and Theft, was spent in Wine, Whores and Gaming. + +_Cart._ O miserable Creature! And all this While your Wife, for whose +Sake God commanded you to leave Father and Mother, being forsaken by +you, sat grieving at Home with her young Children. And do you think this +is Living, to be involved in so many Miseries, and to wallow in so great +Iniquities? + +_Sol._ The having so many Companions of my Wickedness, made me +insensible of my Evil. + +_Cart._ But I'm afraid your Wife won't know you again. + +_Sol._ Why so? + +_Cart._ Because your Scars have made you the Picture of quite another +Man. What a Trench have you got here in your Forehead? It looks as if +you had had a Horn cut out. + +_Sol._ Nay, if you did but know the Matter, you would congratulate me +upon this Scar. + +_Cart._ Why so? + +_Sol._ I was within a Hair's Breadth of losing my Life. + +_Cart._ Why, what Mischief was there? + +_Sol._ As one was drawing a Steel Cross-bow, it broke, and a Splinter of +it hit me in the Forehead. + +_Cart._ You have got a Scar upon your Cheek that is above a Span long. + +_Sol._ I got this Wound in a Battel. + +_Cart._ In what Battel, in the Field? + +_Sol._ No, but in a Quarrel that arose at Dice. + +_Cart._ And I see I can't tell what Sort of Rubies on your Chin. + +_Sol._ O they are nothing. + +_Cart._ I suspect that you have had the Pox. + +_Sol._ You guess very right, Brother. It was the third Time I had that +Distemper, and it had like to have cost me my Life. + +_Cart._ But how came it, that you walk so stooping, as if you were +ninety Years of Age; or like a Mower, or as if your Back was broke? + +_Sol._ The Disease has contracted my Nerves to that Degree. + +_Cart._ In Truth you have undergone a wonderful Metamorphosis: Formerly +you were a Horseman, and now of a Centaur, you are become a Kind of +semi-reptile Animal. + +_Sol._ This is the Fortune of War. + +_Cart._ Nay, 'tis the Madness of your own Mind. But what Spoils will you +carry Home to your Wife and Children? The Leprosy? for that Scab is only +a Species of the Leprosy; and it is only not accounted so, because it +is the Disease in Fashion, and especially among Noblemen: And for this +very Reason, it should be the more carefully avoided. And now you will +infect with it those that ought to be the dearest to you of any in the +World, and you yourself will all your Days carry about a rotten Carcass. + +_Sol._ Prithee, Brother, have done chiding me. I have enough upon me +without Chiding. + +_Cart._ As to those Calamities, I have hitherto taken Notice of, they +only relate to the Body: But what a Sort of a Soul do you bring back +with you? How putrid and ulcered? With how many Wounds is that sore? + +_Sol._ Just as clean as a _Paris_ common Shore in _Maburtus_'s Road, or +a common House of Office. + +_Cart._ I am afraid it stinks worse in the Nostrils of God and his +Angels. + +_Sol._ Well, but I have had Chiding enough, now speak to the Matter, of +something to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I have nothing to give you, but I'll go and try what the Prior +will do. + +_Sol._ If any Thing was to be given, your Hands would be ready to +receive it; but now there are a great many Difficulties in the Way, when +something is to be paid. + +_Cart._ As to what others do, let them look to that, I have no Hands, +either to give or take Money: But we'll talk more of these Matters after +Dinner, for it is now Time to sit down at Table. + + + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets forth the Disposition and Nature of a + Liar, who seems to be born to lie for crafty Gain. A Liar + is a Thief. Gain got by Lying, is baser than that which + is got by a Tax upon Urine. An egregious Method of + deceiving is laid open. Cheating Tradesmen live better + than honest ones._ + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + +_Phil._ From what Fountain does this Flood of Lies flow? + +_Pseud._ From whence do Spiders Webs proceed? + +_Phil._ Then it is not the _Product_ of Art, but of Nature. + +_Pseud._ The Seeds indeed proceed from Nature; but Art and Use have +enlarg'd the Faculty. + +_Phil._ Why, are you not asham'd of it? + +_Pseud._ No more than a Cuckow is of her Singing. + +_Phil._ But you can alter your Note upon every Occasion. The Tongue of +Man was given him to speak the Truth. + +_Pseud._ Ay, to speak those Things that tend to his Profit: The Truth is +not to be spoken at all Times. + +_Phil._ It is sometimes for a Man's Advantage to have pilfering Hands; +and the old Proverb is a Witness, that that is a Vice that is +Cousin-German to yours of Lying. + +_Pseud._ Both these Vices are supported by good Authorities: One has +_Ulysses_, so much commended by _Homer_, and the other has _Mercury_, +that was a God, for its Example, if we believe the Poets. + +_Phil._ Why then do People in common curse Liars, and hang Thieves? + +_Pseud._ Not because they lie or steal, but because they do it +bunglingly or unnaturally, not rightly understanding the Art. + +_Phil._ Is there any Author that teaches the Art of Lying? + +_Pseud._ Your Rhetoricians have instructed in the best Part of the Art. + +_Phil._ These indeed present us with the Art of well speaking. + +_Pseud._ True: and the good Part of speaking well, is to lie cleverly. + +_Phil._ What is clever Lying? + +_Pseud._ Would you have me define it? + +_Phil._ I would have you do it. + +_Pseud._ It is to lie so, that you may get Profit by it, and not be +caught in a Lie. + +_Phil._ But a great many are caught in lying every Day. + +_Pseud._ That's because they are not perfect Masters of the Art. + +_Phil._ Are you a perfect Master in it? + +_Pseud._ In a Manner. + +_Phil._ See, if you can tell me a Lie, so as to deceive me. + +_Pseud._ Yes, best of Men, I can deceive you yourself, if I have a Mind +to it. + +_Phil._ Well, tell me some Lie or other then. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told one already, and did you not catch me in it? + +_Phil._ No. + +_Pseud._ Come on, listen attentively; now I'll begin to lie then. + +_Phil._ I do listen attentively; tell one. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told another Lie, and you have not caught me. + +_Phil._ In Truth, I hear no Lie yet. + +_Pseud._ You would have heard some, if you understood the Art. + +_Phil._ Do you shew it me then. + +_Pseud._ First of all, I call'd you the best of Men, is not that a +swinging Lie, when you are not so much as good? And if you were good, +you could not be said to be the best, there are a thousand others better +than you. + +_Phil._ Here, indeed, you have deceiv'd me. + +_Pseud._ Well, now try if you can catch me again in another Lie. + +_Phil._ I cannot. + +_Pseud._ I want to have you shew that Sharpness of Wit, that you do in +other Things. + +_Phil._ I confess, I am deficient. Shew me. + +_Pseud._ When I said, now I will begin to lie, did I not tell you a +swinging Lie then, when I had been accustomed to lie for so many Years, +and I had also told a Lie, just the Moment before. + +_Phil._ An admirable Piece of Witchcraft. + +_Pseud._ Well, but now you have been forewarn'd, prick up your Ears, +listen attentively, and see if you can catch me in a Lie. + +_Phil._ I do prick them up; say on. + +_Pseud._ I have said already, and you have imitated me in lying. + +_Phil._ Why, you'll persuade me I have neither Ears nor Eyes by and by. + +_Pseud._ When Mens Ears are immoveable, and can neither be prick'd up +nor let down, I told a Lie in bidding you prick up your Ears. + +_Phil._ The whole Life of Man is full of such Lies. + +_Pseud._ Not only such as these, O good Man, for these are but Jokes: +But there are those that bring Profit. + +_Phil._ The Gain that is got by Lying, is more sordid, than that which +is got by laying a Tax on Urine. + +_Pseud._ That is true, I own; but then 'tis to those that han't the Art +of lying. + +_Phil._ What Art is this that you understand? + +_Pseud._ It is not fit I should teach you for nothing; pay me, and you +shall hear it. + +_Phil._ I will not pay for bad Arts. + +_Pseud._ Then will you give away your Estate? + +_Phil._ I am not so mad neither. + +_Pseud._ But my Gain by this Art is more certain than yours from your +Estate. + +_Phil._ Well, keep your Art to yourself, only give me a Specimen that I +may understand that what you say is not all Pretence. + +_Pseud._ Here's a Specimen for you: I concern myself in all Manner of +Business, I buy, I sell, I receive, I borrow, I take Pawns. + +_Phil._ Well, what then? + +_Pseud._ And in these Affairs I entrap those by whom I cannot easily be +caught. + +_Phil._ Who are those? + +_Pseud._ The soft-headed, the forgetful, the unthinking, those that live +a great Way off, and those that are dead. + +_Phil._ The Dead, to be sure, tell no Tales. + +_Pseud._ If I sell any Thing upon Credit, I set it down carefully in my +Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ And what then? + +_Pseud._ When the Money is to be paid, I charge the Buyer with more than +he had. If he is unthinking or forgetful, my Gain is certain. + +_Phil._ But what if he catches you? + +_Pseud._ I produce my Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ What if he informs you, and proves to your Face he has not had +the Goods you charge him with? + +_Pseud._ I stand to it stiffly; for Bashfulness is altogether an +unprofitable Qualification in this Art. My last Shift is, I frame some +Excuse or other. + +_Phil._ But when you are caught openly? + +_Pseud._ Nothing's more easy, I pretend my Servant has made a Mistake, +or I myself have a treacherous Memory: It is a very pretty Way to jumble +the Accounts together, and this is an easy Way to impose on a Person: As +for Example, some are cross'd out, the Money being paid, and others have +not been paid; these I mingle one with another at the latter End of the +Book, nothing being cross'd out. When the Sum is cast up, we contend +about it, and I for the most Part get the better, tho' it be by +forswearing myself. Then besides, I have this Trick, I make up my +Account with a Person when he is just going a Journey, and not prepared +for the Settling it. For as for me, I am always ready. If any Thing be +left with me, I conceal it, and restore it not again. It is a long Time +before he can come to the Knowledge of it, to whom it is sent; and, +after all, if I can't deny the receiving of a Thing, I say it is lost, +or else affirm I have sent that which I have not sent, and charge it +upon the Carrier. And lastly, if I can no Way avoid restoring it, I +restore but Part of it. + +_Phil._ A very fine Art. + +_Pseud._ Sometimes I receive Money twice over, if I can: First at Home, +afterwards there where I have gone, and I am every where. Sometimes +Length of Time puts Things out of Remembrance: The Accounts are +perplexed, one dies, or goes a long Journey: And if nothing else will +hit, in the mean Time I make Use of other People's Money. I bring some +over to my Interest, by a Shew of Generosity, that they may help me out +in lying; but it is always at other People's Cost; of my own, I would +not give my own Mother a Doit. And tho' the Gain in each Particular may +be but small; but being many put together, makes a good round Sum; for +as I said, I concern myself in a great many Affairs; and besides all, +that I may not be catch'd, as there are many Tricks, this is one of the +chief. I intercept all the Letters I can, open them, and read them. If +any Thing in them makes against me, I destroy them, or keep them a long +Time before I deliver them: And besides all this, I sow Discord between +those that live at a great Distance one from another. + +_Phil._ What do you get by that? + +_Pseud._ There is a double Advantage in it. First of all, if that is not +performed that I have promised in another Person's Name, or in whose +Name I have received any Present, I lay it to this or that Man's Door, +that it was not performed, and so these Forgeries I make turn to a +considerable Account. + +_Phil._ But what if he denies it? + +_Pseud._ He's a great Way off, as suppose at _Basil_; and I promise to +give it in _England._ And so it is brought about, that both being +incensed, neither will believe the one the other, if I accuse them of +any Thing. Now you have a Specimen of my Art. + +_Phil._ But this Art is what we Dullards call Theft; who call a Fig a +Fig, and a Spade a Spade. + +_Pseud._ O Ignoramus in the Law! Can you bring an Action of Theft for +Trover or Conversion, or for one that having borrow'd a Thing forswears +it, that puts a Trick upon one, by some such Artifice? + +_Phil._ He ought to be sued for Theft. + +_Pseud._ Do but then see the Prudence of Artists. From these Methods +there is more Gain, or at least as much, and less Danger. + +_Phil._ A Mischief take you, with your cheating Tricks and Lies, for I +han't a Mind to learn 'em. Good by to ye. + +_Pseud._ You may go on, and be plagu'd with your ragged Truth. In the +mean Time, I'll live merrily upon my thieving, lying Tricks, with Slight +of Hand. + + + + +_The SHIPWRECK._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + Naufragium _exposes the Dangers of those that go to Sea; + the various and foolish Superstition of Mariners. An + elegant Description of a Storm. They indeed run a Risque + that throw their valuable Commodities into the Sea. + Mariners impiously invoke the Virgin_ Mary, _St._ + Christopher, _and the Sea itself. Saints are not to be + pray'd to, but God alone._ + + +ANTONY _and_ ADOLPH. + +_Ant._ You tell dreadful Stories: Is this going to Sea? God forbid that +ever any such Thing should come into my Mind. + +_Adol._ That which I have related, is but a Diversion, in Comparison to +what you'll hear presently. + +_Ant._ I have heard Calamities enough already, my Flesh trembles to hear +you relate them, as if I were in Danger myself. + +_Adol._ But Dangers that are past, are pleasant to be thought on. One +thing happen'd that Night, that almost put the Pilot out of all Hopes of +Safety. + +_Ant._ Pray what was that? + +_Adol._ The Night was something lightish, and one of the Sailors was got +into the Skuttle (so I think they call it) at the Main-Top-Mast, looking +out if he could see any Land; a certain Ball of Fire began to stand by +him, which is the worst Sign in the World to Sailors, if it be single; +but a very good one, if double. The Antients believed these to be +_Castor_ and _Pollux_. + +_Ant._ What have they to do with Sailors, one of which was a Horseman, +and the other a Prize-Fighter? + +_Adol._ It was the Pleasure of Poets, so to feign. The Steersman who sat +at the Helm, calls to him, Mate, says he, (for so Sailors call one +another) don't you see what a Companion you have by your Side? I do see, +says he, and I pray that he may be a lucky one. By and by this fiery +Ball glides down the Ropes, and rolls itself over and over close to the +Pilot. + +_Ant._ And was not he frighted out of his Wits? + +_Adol._ Sailors are us'd to terrible Sights. It stopp'd a little there, +then roll'd itself all round the Sides of the Ship; after that, slipping +through the Hatches, it vanished away. About Noon the Storm began to +increase. Did you ever see the _Alps_? + +_Ant._ I have seen them. + +_Adol._ Those Mountains are Mole Hills, if they be compar'd to the Waves +of the Sea. As oft as we were toss'd up, one might have touch'd the Moon +with his Finger; and as oft as we were let fall down into the Sea, we +seem'd to be going directly down to Hell, the Earth gaping to receive +us. + +_Ant._ O mad Folks, that trust themselves to the Sea! + +_Adol._ The Mariners striving in Vain with the Storm, at length the +Pilot, all pale as Death comes to us. + +_Ant._ That Paleness presages some great Evil. + +_Adol._ My Friends, says he, I am no longer Master of my Ship, the Wind +has got the better of me; all that we have now to do is to place our +Hope in God, and every one to prepare himself for Death. + +_Ant._ This was cold Comfort. + +_Adol._ But in the first Place, says he, we must lighten the Ship; +Necessity requires it, tho' 'tis a hard Portion. It is better to +endeavour to save our Lives with the Loss of our Goods, than to perish +with them. The Truth persuaded, and a great many Casks of rich +Merchandize were thrown over-Board. _Ant._ This was casting away, +according to the Letter. + +_Adol._ There was in the Company, a certain _Italian_, that had been +upon an Embassy to the King of _Scotland_. He had a whole Cabinet full +of Plate, Rings, Cloth, and rich wearing Apparel. + +_Ant._ And he, I warrant ye, was unwilling to come to a Composition with +the Sea. + +_Adol._ No, he would not; he had a Mind either to sink or swim with his +beloved Riches. + +_Ant._ What said the Pilot to this? + +_Adol._ If you and your Trinkets were to drown by yourselves, says he, +here's no Body would hinder you; but it is not fit that we should run +the Risque of our Lives, for the Sake of your Cabinet: If you won't +consent, we'll throw you and your Cabinet into the Sea together. + +_Ant._ Spoken like a Tarpawlin. + +_Adol._ So the Italian submitted, and threw his Goods over-Board, with +many a bitter Curse to the Gods both above and below, that he had +committed his Life to so barbarous an Element. + +_Ant._ I know the Italian Humour. + +_Adol._ The Winds were nothing the less boisterous for our Presents, but +by and by burst our Cordage, and threw down our Sails. + +_Ant._ Lamentable! + +_Adol._ Then the Pilot comes to us again. + +_Ant._ What, with another Preachment? + +_Adol._ He gives us a Salute; my Friends, says he, the Time exhorts us +that every one of us should recommend himself to God, and prepare for +Death. Being ask'd by some that were not ignorant in Sea Affairs, how +long he thought the Ship might be kept above Water, he said, he could +promise nothing, but that it could not be done above three Hours. + +_Ant._ This was yet a harder Chapter than the former. + +_Adol._ When he had said this, he orders to cut the Shrouds and the Mast +down by the Board, and to throw them, Sails and all, into the Sea. + +_Ant._ Why was this done? + +_Adol._ Because, the Sail either being gone or torn, it would only be a +Burden, but not of Use; all our Hope was in the Helm. + +_Ant._ What did the Passengers do in the mean Time? + +_Adol._ There you might have seen a wretched Face of Things; the +Mariners, they were singing their _Salve Regina_, imploring the Virgin +Mother, calling her the Star of the Sea, the Queen of Heaven, the Lady +of the World, the Haven of Health, and many other flattering Titles, +which the sacred Scriptures never attributed to her. + +_Ant._ What has she to do with the Sea, who, as I believe, never went a +Voyage in her Life? + +_Adol._ In ancient Times, _Venus_ took Care of Mariners, because she was +believ'd to be born of the Sea and because she left off to take Care of +them, the Virgin Mother was put in her Place, that was a Mother, but not +a Virgin. + +_Ant._ You joke. + +_Adol._ Some were lying along upon the Boards, worshipping the Sea, +pouring all they had into it, and flattering it, as if it had been some +incensed Prince. + +_Ant._ What did they say? + +_Adol._ O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! O +most beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff they +sung to the deaf Ocean. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous Superstition! What did the rest do? + +_Adol._ Some did nothing but spew, and some made Vows. There was an +_Englishman_ there, that promis'd golden Mountains to our Lady of +_Walsingham_, so he did but get ashore alive. Others promis'd a great +many Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; others +again, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by the +Virgin _Mary_, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think the +Vow is of no Effect, unless the Place be mentioned. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous! As if the Saints did not dwell in Heaven. + +_Adol._ Some made Promises to become _Carthusians_. There was one who +promised he would go a _Pilgrimage_ to St. _James_ at _Compostella_, +bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging his +Bread all the Way. + +_Ant._ Did no Body make any Mention of St. _Christopher_? + +_Adol._ Yes, I heard one, and I could not forbear laughing, who bawling +out aloud, lest St. _Christopher_ should not hear him, promised him, who +is at the Top of a Church at _Paris_, rather a Mountain than a Statue, a +wax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over and +over as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on the +Elbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if you +should sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay for +it. He answer'd him softly, lest St. _Christopher_ should hear him, you +Fool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe to +Shore, I would not give him so much as a tallow Candle. + +_Ant._ O Blockhead! I fancy he was a _Hollander_. + +_Adol._ No, he was a _Zealander_. + +_Ant._ I wonder no Body thought of St. _Paul_, who has been at Sea, and +having suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquainted +with the Distress, knows how to pity those that are in it. + +_Adol._ He was not so much as named. + +_Ant._ Were they at their Prayers all the While? + +_Adol._ Ay, as if it had been for a Wager. One sung his _Hail Queen_; +another, _I believe in God_. There were some who had certain particular +Prayers not unlike magical Charms against Dangers. + +_Ant._ How Affliction makes Men religious! In Prosperity we neither +think of God nor Saint. But what did you do all this While? Did you not +make Vows to some Saints? + +_Adol._ No, none at all. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ I make no Bargains with Saints. For what is this but a Bargain +in Form? I'll give you, if you do so and so; or I will do so and so, if +you do so and so: I'll give you a wax Taper, if I swim out alive; I'll +go to _Rome_, if you save me. + +_Ant._ But did you call upon none of the Saints for Help? + +_Adol._ No, not so much as that neither. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ Because Heaven is a large Place, and if I should recommend my +Safety to any Saint, as suppose, to St. _Peter_, who perhaps, would hear +soonest, because he stands at the Door; before he can come to God +Almighty, or before he could tell him my Condition, I may be lost. + +_Ant._ What did you do then? + +_Adol._ I e'en went the next Way to God the Father, saying, _Our Father +which art in Heaven_. There's none of the Saints hears sooner than he +does, or more readily gives what is ask'd for. + +_Ant._ But in the mean Time did not your Conscience check you? Was you +not afraid to call him Father, whom you had offended with so many +Wickednesses? + +_Adol._ To speak ingenuously, my Conscience did a little terrify me at +first, but I presently took Heart again, thus reasoning with myself; +There is no Father so angry with his Son, but if he sees him in Danger +of being drowned in a River or Pond, he will take him, tho' it be by the +Hair of the Head, and throw him out upon a Bank. There was no Body among +them all behaved herself more composed than a Woman, who had a Child +sucking at her Breast. + +_Ant._ What did she do? + +_Adol._ She only neither bawl'd, nor wept, nor made Vows, but hugging +her little Boy, pray'd softly. In the mean Time the Ship dashing ever +and anon against the Ground, the Pilot being afraid she would be beat +all to Pieces, under-girded her with Cables from Head to Stern. + +_Ant._ That was a sad Shift! + +_Adol._ Upon this, up starts an old Priest about threescore Years of +Age, his Name was _Adam_. He strips himself to his Shirt, throws away +his Boots and Shoes, and bids us all in like Manner to prepare ourselves +for swimming. Then standing in the middle of the Ship, he preach'd a +Sermon to us, upon the five Truths of the Benefit of Confession, and +exhorted every Man to prepare himself, for either Life or Death. There +was a _Dominican_ there too, and they confess'd those that had a Mind to +it. + +_Ant._ What did you do? + +_Adol._ I seeing that every thing was in a Hurry, confess'd privately to +God, condemning before him my Iniquity, and imploring his Mercy. + +_Ant._ And whither should you have gone, do you think, if you had +perished? + +_Adol._ I left that to God, who is my Judge; I would not be my own +Judge. But I was not without comfortable Hopes neither. While these +Things were transacting, the Steersman comes to us again all in Tears; +Prepare your selves every one of you, says he, for the Ship will be of +no Service to us for a quarter of an Hour. For now she leak'd in several +Places. Presently after this he brings us Word that he saw a Steeple a +good Way off, and exhorts us to implore the Aid of that Saint, whoever +it was, who had the protection of that Temple. They all fall down and +pray to the unknown Saint. + +_Ant._ Perhaps he would have heard ye, if ye had call'd upon him by his +Name. + +_Adol._ But that we did not know. In the mean Time the Pilate steers the +Ship, torn and leaking every where, and ready to fall in Pieces, if she +had not been undergirt with Cables, as much as he could toward that +Place. + +_Ant._ A miserable Condition. + +_Adol._ We were now come so near the Shoar, that the Inhabitants of the +Place could see us in Distress, and ran down in Throngs to the utmost +Edge of the Shoar, and holding up Gowns and Hats upon Spears, invited us +to make towards them, and stretching out their Arms towards Heaven, +signified to us that they pitied our Misfortune. + +_Ant._ I long to know what happened. + +_Adol._ The Ship was now every where full of Water, that we were no +safer in the Ship than if we had been in the Sea. + +_Ant._ Now was your Time to betake yourself to divine Help. + +_Adol._ Ay, to a wretched one. The Sailors emptied the Ship's Boat of +Water, and let it down into the Sea. Every Body was for getting into it, +the Mariners cry'd out amain, they'll sink the Boat, it will not hold so +many; that every one should take what he could get, and swim for it. +There was no Time now for long Deliberation. One gets an Oar, another a +Pole, another a Gutter, another a Bucket, another a Plank, and every one +relying upon their Security, they commit themselves to the Billows. + +_Ant._ But what became of the Woman that was the only Person that made +no Bawling? + +_Adol._ She got to Shoar the first of them all. + +_Ant._ How could she do that? + +_Adol._ We set her upon a broad Plank, and ty'd her on so fast that she +could not easily fall off, and we gave her a Board in her Hand to make +Use of instead of an Oar, and wishing her good Success, we set her +afloat, thrusting her off from the Ship with Poles, that she might be +clear of it, whence was the greatest Danger. And she held her Child in +her left Hand, and row'd with her right Hand. + +_Ant._ O _Virago_! + +_Adol._ Now when there was nothing else left, one pull'd up a wooden +Image of the Virgin _Mary_, rotten, and rat-eaten, and embracing it in +his Arms, try'd to swim upon it. + +_Ant._ Did the Boat get safe to Land? + +_Adol._ None perish'd sooner than they that were in that, and there were +above thirty that had got into it. + +_Ant._ By what bad Accident was that brought about? + +_Adol._ It was overset by the rolling of the Ship, before they could get +clear of it. + +_Ant._ A sad Accident: But how then? + +_Adol._ While I was taking Care for others, I had like to have been lost +myself. + +_Ant._ How so? + +_Adol._ Because there was nothing left that was fit for swimming. + +_Ant._ There Corks would have been of good Use. + +_Adol._ In that Condition I would rather have had a sorry Cork than a +gold Candlestick. I look'd round about me, at Length I bethought myself +of the Stump of the Mast, and because I could not get it out alone, I +took a Partner; upon this we both plac'd ourselves, and committed +ourselves to the Sea. I held the right End, and my Companion the left +End. While we lay tumbling and tossing, the old preaching Sea-Priest +threw himself upon our Shoulders. He was a huge Fellow. We cry out, +who's that third Person? He'll drown us all. But he very calmly bids us +be easy, for there was Room enough, God will be with us. + +_Ant._ How came he to be so late? + +_Adol._ He was to have been in the Boat with the _Dominican_. For they +all paid him this Deference. But tho' they had confess'd themselves in +the Ship, yet having forgotten I know not what Circumstances, they +confess'd over again at the Ship-Side, and each lays his Hand upon the +other, and while this was doing the Boat was over-turn'd. This I had +from _Adam_ himself. + +_Ant._ What became of the _Dominican_? + +_Adol._ As the same Man told me, having implor'd the Help of his Saints, +and stript himself, he threw himself naked into the Sea. + +_Ant._ What Saints did he call upon? + +_Adol._ St. _Dominick_, St. _Thomas_, St. _Vincent_, and one of the +_Peters_, but I can't tell which: But his chief Reliance was upon +_Catherinea Senensis_. + +_Ant._ Did he not remember _Christ_? + +_Adol._ Not, as the old Priest told me. + +_Ant._ He would have swam better if he had thrown off his sanctified +Coul: But if that had been laid aside, how should _Catherine_ of _Siena_ +have known him? But go on and tell me about yourself. + +_Adol._ While we were yet tumbling and tossing near the Ship, which +roll'd hither and thither at the Mercy of the Waves, the Thigh of him +that held the left End of the Stump of the Mast was broken by a great +Spike, and so that made him let go his Hold. The old Priest wishing him +everlasting Rest, took his Place, encouraging me to maintain my Post on +the right Hand resolutely, and to strike out my Feet stoutly. In the +mean Time we drank in abundance of salt Water. For _Neptune_ had +provided us not only a salt Bath, but a salt Potion too, altho' the old +Priest prescribed a Remedy for it. + +_Ant._ What was that? + +_Adol._ Why, as often as a Billow met us, he turn'd his Head and shut +his Mouth. + +_Ant._ You tell me of a brave old Fellow. + +_Adol._ When we had been some Time swimming at this Rate, and had made +some Way, the old Priest being a very tall Man, cries out, Be of good +Heart, I feel Ground; but I durst not hope for such a Blessing. No, no, +says I, we are too far from Shoar to hope to feel Ground. Nay, says he, +I feel the Ground with my Feet. Said I, perhaps it is some of the Chests +that have been roll'd thither by the Sea. Nay, says he, I am sure I feel +Ground by the Scratching of my Toes. Having floated thus a little +longer, and he had felt the Bottom again, Do you do what you please, +says he, I'll leave you the whole Mast, and wade for it. And so he took +his Opportunity, at the Ebbing of the Billows, he made what Haste he +could on his Feet, and when the Billows came again, he took Hold of his +Knees with his Hands, and bore up against the Billows, hiding himself +under them as Sea Gulls and Ducks do, and at the Ebbing of the Wave, he +would start up and run for it. I seeing that this succeeded so well to +him, followed his Example. There stood upon the Shoar Men, who had long +Pikes handed from one to another, which kept them firm against the Force +of the Waves, strong bodied Men, and accustom'd to the Waves, and he +that was last of them held out a Pike to the Person swimming towards +him. All that came to Shoar, and laying hold of that, were drawn safely +to dry Land. Some were sav'd this Way. + +_Ant._ How many? + +_Adol._ Seven. But two of these fainted away being brought to the Fire. + +_Ant._ How many were in the Ship? + +_Adol._ Fifty-eight. + +_Ant._ O cruel Sea. At least it might have been content with the Tithes, +which are enough for Priests. Did it restore so few out of so great a +Number? + +_Adol._ There we had Experience of the wonderful Humanity of the Nation, +that supply'd us with all Necessaries with exceeding Chearfulness; as +Lodging, Fire, Victuals, Cloaths, and Money to bear our Charges when we +went away. + +_Ant._ What Country was it? + +_Adol. Holland._ + +_Ant._ There's no Nation more human, altho' they are encompass'd with +such fierce Nations. I fancy you won't be for going to Sea again. + +_Adol._ No, unless God shall please to deprive me of my Reason. + +_Ant._ I would rather hear such Stories than feel them. + + + + +_DIVERSORIA._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the various Customs of Nations and + their Civility in treating Strangers. An Inn at_ Leyden + _where are nothing but Women. The Manners of the_ French + _Inns, who are us'd to tell Stories, and break Jests. + The_ Germans, _far more uncivil in treating Travellers, + being rude, and wholly inhospitable: The Guests look + after their own Horses: The Method of receiving them into + the Stove: They provide no Supper, till they know how + many Guests they shall have: All that come that Night, + sit down to Supper together: All pay alike, tho' one + drinks twice as much Wine as another does._ + + +BERTULPH and WILLIAM. + +_Bert._ I wonder what is the Fancy of a great many, for staying two or +three Days at _Lyons_? When I have once set out on a Journey, I an't at +Rest till I come to my Journey's End. + +_Will._ Nay, I wonder as much, that any Body can get away from thence. + +_Bert._ But why so? + +_Will._ Because that's a Place the Companions of _Ulysses_ could not +have got away from. There are _Sirens_. No Body is better entertain'd at +his own House, than he is there at an Inn. + +_Bert._ What is done there? + +_Will._ There's a Woman always waiting at Table, which makes the +Entertainment pleasant with Railleries, and pleasant Jests. And the +Women are very handsome there. First the Mistress of the House came and +bad us Welcome, and to accept kindly what Fare we should have; after +her, comes her Daughter, a very fine Woman, of so handsome a Carriage, +and so pleasant in Discourse, that she would make even _Cato_ himself +merry, were he there: And they don't talk to you as if you were perfect +Strangers, but as those they have been a long Time acquainted with, and +familiar Friends. + +_Bert._ O, I know the _French_ Way of Civility very well. + +_Will._ And because they can't be always with you, by Reason of the +other Affairs of the House, and the welcoming of other Guests, there +comes a Lass, that supplies the Place of the Daughter, till she is at +Leisure to return again. This Lass is so well instructed in the Knack of +Repartees, that she has a Word ready for every Body, and no Conceit +comes amiss to her. The Mother, you must know, was somewhat in Years. + +_Bert._ But what was your Table furnish'd with? For Stories fill no +Bellies. + +_Will._ Truly, so splendid, that I was amaz'd that they could afford to +entertain their Guests so, for so small a Price. And then after Dinner, +they entertain a Man with such facetious Discourse, that one cannot be +tired; that I seemed to be at my own House, and not in a strange Place. + +_Bert._ And how went Matters in your Chambers? + +_Will._ Why, there was every where some pretty Lass or other, giggling +and playing wanton Tricks? They ask'd us if we had any foul Linnen to +wash; which they wash and bring to us again: In a word, we saw nothing +there but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they would +every now and then run in there too. When you go away, they embrace ye, +and part with you with as much Affection, as if you were their own +Brothers, or near Kinsfolks. + +_Bert._ This Mode perhaps may become the _French_, but methinks the Way +of the _Germans_ pleases me better, which is more manly. + +_Will._ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much to +tell how they entertain a Traveller. + +_Bert._ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same +every where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guest +welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for +that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German +Gravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one +puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves +till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell: Him you must ask +if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take +it for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where the +Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please +yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be a +noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your +Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those +that shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen. If you find Fault +with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look for +another Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and +sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Care +of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and +all, for that is a common Room for all Comers. + +_Will._ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may +change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have +a Mind to it. + +_Bert._ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off your +Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up +your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself. +There's Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as +for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want +another Water to wash that off. + +_Will._ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy +in them. + +_Bert._ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go +to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten. + +_Will._ Why so? + +_Bert._ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Company +together, that one Trouble may serve for all. + +_Will._ They are for taking the shortest Way. + +_Bert._ You are right; so that oftentimes, there come all together into +the same Stove, eighty or ninety Foot-Men, Horse-Men, Merchants, +Marriners, Waggoners, Husband-Men, Children, Women, sick and sound. + +_Will._ This is having all Things in common. + +_Bert._ There one combs his Head, another wipes off his Sweat, another +cleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and in +short, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as there +was at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body of +another Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they all +stare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal brought +out of _Africa_. And when they are set at Table, and he behind them, +they will be still looking back at him, and be staring him in the Face, +till they have forgot their Suppers. + +_Will._ At _Rome_, _Paris_ or _Venice_, there's no Body thinks any Thing +strange. + +_Bert._ In the mean Time, 'tis a Crime for you to call for any Thing. +When it is grown pretty late, and they don't expect any more Guests, out +comes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and a +crabbed Look, and a slovenly Dress. + +_Will._ Such Fellows ought to be Cup-Bearers to the Cardinals at _Rome_. + +_Bert._ He having cast his Eyes about, counts to himself, how many there +are in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in the +Stove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would be +troublesome; and this with them, is accounted a principal Part of good +Entertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any one +who is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never so +little, that he be not stifled, presently they cry out to shut it again: +If you answer you are not able to bear it, you'll presently hear, get +you another Inn then. + +_Will._ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so many +to draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened with +the Heat; and to eat in the same Place, and to stay there so many Hours, +not to mention the belching of Garlick, the Farting, the stinking +Breaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has its +Contagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it is +call'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And it +is my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there is +from those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of a +Pestilence? + +_Bert._ They are Persons of a strong Constitution, and laugh at, and +disregard those Niceties. + +_Will._ But in the mean Time, they are bold at the Perils of other Men. + +_Bert._ What would you do in this Case? 'Tis what they have been used +to, and it is a Part of a constant Mind, not to depart from a Custom. + +_Will._ And yet, within these five and twenty Years, nothing was more in +Vogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grown +out of Use; but the new Scabbado has taught us to lay them down. + +_Bert._ Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded +_Ganymede_ again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are +Guests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have +been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to +every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their +Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor +or Rich, between the Master and Servant. + +_Will._ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has +driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner +with his Disciples. + +_Bert._ After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd _Ganymede_ +again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again, +and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and +then a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests +may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is +boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour. + +_Will._ Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time? + +_Bert._ None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set +upon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin and +sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests +should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some +where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as +if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they +answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have +lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you +don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen of +their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing +you their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking +Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the +first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a +Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of +Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again, +and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until +their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed +Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of, +and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the +Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their +Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care +that the last Act shall be the best. + +_Will._ This is the Part of a good Poet. + +_Bert._ And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body +should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your +Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length, +out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but +little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and +by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink +most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least. + +_Will._ A strange Temper of the Nation! + +_Bert._ There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay +for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is +wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to +be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in +a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they +are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, +jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon +your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is +a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart +till near Midnight. + +_Will._ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a +tedious one. + +_Bert._ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely +pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old +bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and +semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, +with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some +_Charon_. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money +one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of +those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he +gives you a Nod. + +_Will._ But what if there should be any Thing over and above? + +_Bert._ Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so. + +_Will._ Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning? + +_Bert._ No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow +are you? You pay no more than the rest. + +_Will._ This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of. + +_Bert._ If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed +as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too. + +_Will._ This seems to me to be _Plato_'s City. + +_Bert._ Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing +else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you +can either make Use of or steal. + +_Will._ Are Things very clean there? + +_Bert._ As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six +Months ago. + +_Will._ What becomes of your Horses all this While? + +_Bert._ They are treated after the Manner that the Men are. + +_Will._ But is there the same Treatment every where. + +_Bert._ It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others, +than I have told you; but in general it is thus. + +_Will._ What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in +that Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in +_England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both of +the _French_ and the _Germans_, being a Mixture of those two Nations. +The _Welsh_ boast themselves to be the original _English_. + +_Bert._ Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in +them. + +_Will._ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on +board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time we +shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full. + + + + +_The YOUNG MAN and HARLOT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This is certainly a divine Colloquy, that makes even a + Bawdy-House a chaste Place! God can't be deceiv'd, his + Eyes penetrate into the most secret Places. That young + Persons ought in an especial Manner to take Care of their + Chastity. A young Woman, who made herself common to get a + Livelihood, is recovered from that Course of Life, as + wretched as it is scandalous._ + + +LUCRETIA, SOPHRONIUS. + +_Lu._ O brave! My pretty _Sophronius_, have I gotten you again? It is an +Age methinks since I saw you. I did not know you at first Sight. + +_So._ Why so, my _Lucretia_? + +_Lu._ Because you had no Beard when you went away, but you're come back +with something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you look +duller than you use to do? + +_So._ I want to have a little Talk with you in private. + +_Lu._ Ah, ah, are we not by ourselves already, my Cocky? + +_So._ Let us go out of the Way somewhere, into a more private Place. + +_Lu._ Come on then, we'll go into my inner Bed-Chamber, if you have a +Mind to do any Thing. + +_So._ I don't think this Place is private enough yet. + +_Lu._ How comes it about you're so bashful all on a sudden? Well, come, +I have a Closet where I lay up my Cloaths, a Place so dark, that we can +scarce see one another there. + +_So._ See if there be no Chink. + +_Lu._ There is not so much as a Chink. + +_So._ Is there no Body near to hear us? + +_Lu._ Not so much as a Fly, my Dear; Why do you lose Time? + +_So._ Can we escape the Eye of God here? + +_Lu._ No, he sees all Things clearly. + +_So._ And of the Angels? + +_Lu._ No, we cannot escape their Sight. + +_So._ How comes it about then, that Men are not asham'd to do that in +the Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that they +would be ashamed to do before Men? + +_Lu._ What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preach +a Sermon? Prithee put on a _Franciscan_'s Hood, and get up into a +Pulpit, and then we'll hear you hold forth, my little bearded Rogue. + +_So._ I should not think much to do that, if I could but reclaim you +from this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life in +the World. + +_Lu._ Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one must +live by his Calling. This is my Business; this is all I have to live on. + +_So._ I wish with all my Heart, my _Lucretia_, that setting aside for a +While that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter. + +_Lu._ Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy one +another, my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ You do what you do for the Sake of Gain. + +_Lu._ You are much about the Matter. + +_So._ Thou shalt lose nothing by it, do but hearken to me, and I'll pay +you four Times over. + +_Lu._ Well, say what you have a Mind to say. + +_So._ Answer me this Question in the first Place: Are there any Persons +that owe you any ill Will? + +_Lu._ Not one. + +_So._ Is there any Body that you have a Spleen against? + +_Lu._ According as they deserve. + +_So._ And if you could do any Thing that would gratify them, would you +do it? + +_Lu._ I would poison 'em sooner. + +_So._ But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing that +you can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live this +shameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that would +be more afflicting to them that wish thee well? + +_Lu._ It is my Destiny. + +_So._ Now that which uses to be the greatest Hardship to such as are +transported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, this +you undergo voluntarily. + +_Lu._ What is that? + +_So._ Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections to +Father, Mother, Brother, Sisters, Aunts, (by Father's and Mother's Side) +and all thy Relations? For thou makest them all asham'd to own thee, and +thyself asham'd to come into their Sight. + +_Lu._ Nay, I have made a very happy Exchange of Affections; for instead +of a few, now I have a great many, of which you are one, and whom I have +always esteem'd as a Brother. + +_So._ Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it really +is. Believe me, my _Lucretia_, she who has so many Friends, has never a +one, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House of +Office rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thou +hast brought thyself. _Christ_ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem thee +with his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in an +heavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into which +all the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness. +And if that leprous Infection they call the _French_ Pox han't yet +seiz'd thee, thou wilt not escape it long. And if once thou gettest it, +how miserable wilt thou be, though all things should go favourably on +thy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothing +but a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and now +thou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hear +your Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunken +Fellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work at +Home, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd to +endure, and how late a Nights art thou oblig'd to sit up? + +_Lu._ How came you to be a Preacher? + +_So._ And do but seriously consider, this Flower of thy Beauty that now +brings thee so many Gallants, will soon fade: And then, poor Creature, +what wilt thou do? Thou wilt be piss'd upon by every Body. It may be, +thou thinkest, instead of a Mistress, I'll then be a Bawd. All Whores +can't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is more +impious, and more like the Devil himself? + +_Lu._ Why, indeed, my _Sophronius_, almost all you say is very true. But +how came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be the +greatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither more +frequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you have +been at _Rome_. + +_So._ I have so. + +_Lu._ Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than they +went: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you? + +_So._ I'll tell you, because I did not go to _Rome_ with the same +Intent, and after the same Manner that others do. Others commonly go to +_Rome_, on purpose to come Home worse, and there they meet with a great +many Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, by +whose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The New +Testament with _Erasmus_'s Paraphrase. + +_Lu._ _Erasmus_'s? They say that he's Half a Heretick. + +_So._ Has his Name reached to this Place too? + +_Lu._ There's no Name more noted among us. + +_So._ Did you ever see him? + +_Lu._ No, I never saw him; but I should be glad to see him; I have heard +so many bad Reports of him. + +_So._ It may be you have heard 'em, from them that are bad themselves. + +_Lu._ Nay, from Men of the Gown. + +_So._ Who are they? + +_Lu._ It is not convenient to name Names. + +_So._ Why so? + +_Lu._ Because if you should blab it out, and it should come to their +Ears, I should lose a great many good Cullies. + +_So._ Don't be afraid, I won't speak a Word of it. + +_Lu._ I will whisper then. + +_So._ You foolish Girl, what Need is there to whisper, when there is no +Body but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceive +you're a religious Whore, that relievest Mendicants. + +_Lu._ I get more by them Beggars than by you rich Men. + +_So._ They rob honest Women, to lavish it away upon naughty Strumpets. + +_Lu._ But go on, as to your Book. + +_So._ So I will, and that's best. In that Book, Paul, that can't lie, +told me, that _neither Whores nor Whore-mongers shall obtain the Kingdom +of Heaven_. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It is +but a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yet +I can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinherited +by my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenly +Father should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in the +Case of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is no +Provision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, I +immediately ty'd myself up from all Conversation with lewd Women. + +_Lu._ It will be well if you can hold it. + +_So._ It is a good Step towards Continence, to desire to be so. And last +of all, there is one Remedy left, and that is a Wife. When I was at +_Rome_, I empty'd the whole Jakes of my Sins into the Bosom of a +Confessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind and +Body, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, and +Sobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I should +upon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, _Have Mercy +upon me, O God_: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny to +some poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks he +enjoin'd me so small a Penance, he answer'd me very pleasantly, My Son, +says he, if you truly repent and change your Life, I don't lay much +Stress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lust +itself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priest +impose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with the +Palsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you have +been heretofore. And thus I repented. + +_Lu._ Then as far as I perceive, I have lost my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ Nay, you have rather gain'd him, for he was lost before, and was +neither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, and +longs for the Salvation of thy Soul. + +_Lu._ What would you have me to do then, my _Sophronius_? + +_So._ To leave off that Course of Life out of Hand: Thou art but a Girl +yet, and that Stain that you have contracted may be wip'd off in Time. +Either marry, and I'll give you something toward a Portion, or go into +some Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Place +and get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any of +these. + +_Lu._ My _Sophronius_, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'll +follow thy Advice. + +_So._ But in the mean Time get away from hence. + +_Lu._ Whoo! what so suddenly! + +_So._ Why not to Day rather than to Morrow, if Delays are dangerous? + +_Lu._ Whither shall I go? + +_So._ Get all your Things together, give 'em to me in the Evening, my +Servant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come a +little after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; you +shall live with her some Time upon my Cost till I can provide for you, +and that shall be very quickly. + +_Lu._ Well, my _Sophronius_, I commit myself wholly to thy Management. + +_So._ In Time to come you'll be glad you have done so. + + + + +_The POETICAL FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Poetical Feast teaches the Studious how to banquet. + That Thriftiness with Jocoseness, Chearfulness without + Obscenity, and learned Stories, ought to season their + Feasts. Iambics are bloody. Poets are Men of no great + Judgment. The three chief Properties of a good Maid + Servant. Fidelity, Deformity, and a high Spirit. A Place + out of the Prologue of_ Terence's Eunuchus _is + illustrated. Also_ Horace's _Epode to_ Canidia. _A Place + out of_ Seneca. Aliud agere, nihil agere, male agere. _A + Place out of the Elenchi of_ Aristotle _is explain'd. A + Theme poetically varied, and in a different Metre. + Sentences are taken from Flowers and Trees in the Garden. + Also some Verses are compos'd in_ Greek. + + +HILARY, LEONARD, CRATO, GUESTS, MARGARET, CARINUS, EUBULUS, SBRULIUS, +PARTHENIUS, MUS, _Hilary_'s Servant. + +Hi. _Levis apparatus, animus est lautissimus._ + +Le. _Cænam sinistro es auspicatus omine._ + +Hi. _Imo absit omen triste. Sed cur hoc putas?_ + +Le. _Cruenti Iambi haud congruent convivio._ + +Hi. _I have but slender Fare, but a very liberal Mind._ + +Le. _You have begun the Banquet with a bad Omen._ + +Hi. _Away with bad Presages. But why do you think so?_ + +Le. _Bloody Iambics are not fit for a Feast._ + +_Cr._ O brave! I am sure the Muses are amongst us, Verses flow so from +us, when we don't think of 'em. + + _Si rotatiles trochaeos mavelis, en, accipe: + Vilis apparatus heic est, animus est lautissimus._ + +If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you: +Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind. + +Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels, +they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever. O Melons! +Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden. These are creeping +Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Wits +would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens? + +_Cr._ If a Man may be allow'd to speak Truth at a Poetic Banquet, those +you call Lettuces are Beets. + +_Hi._ God forbid. + +_Cr._ It is as I tell you. See the Shape of 'em, and besides where is +the milky Juice? Where are their soft Prickles? + +_Hi._ Truly you make me doubt. Soho, call the Wench. _Margaret_, you +Hag, what did you mean to give us Beets instead of Lettuces? + +_Ma._ I did it on Purpose. + +_Hi._ What do you say, you Witch? + +_Ma._ I had a Mind to try among so many Poets if any could know a +Lettuce from a Beet. For I know you don't tell me truly who 'twas that +discover'd 'em to be Beets. + +_Guests._ _Crato_. + +_Ma._ I thought it was no Poet who did it. + +_Hi._ If ever you serve me so again, I'll call you _Blitea_ instead of +_Margarita_. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha. + +_Ma._ Your calling me will neither make me fatter nor leaner. He calls +me by twenty Names in a Day's Time: When he has a Mind to wheedle me, +then I'm call'd _Galatea, Euterpe, Calliope, Callirhoe, Melissa, Venus, +Minerva_, and what not? When he's out of Humour at any Thing, then +presently I'm _Tisiphone_, _Megaera_, _Alecto_, _Medusa_, _Baucis_, and +whatsoever comes into his Head in his mad Mood. + +_Hi._ Get you gone with your Beets, _Blitea_. + +_Ma._ I wonder what you call'd me for. + +_Hi._ That you may go whence you came. + +_Ma._ 'Tis an old Saying and a true, 'tis an easier Matter to raise the +Devil, than 'tis to lay him. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha: Very well said. As the Matter is, _Hilary_, you stand +in Need of some magic Verse to lay her with. + +_Hi._ I have got one ready. + +[Greek: Pheugete, kantharides lukos agrios umme diôkei.] + +Be gone ye Beetles, for the cruel Wolf pursues you. + +_Ma._ What says _Æsop?_ + +_Cr._ Have a Care, _Hilary_, she'll hit you a Slap on the Face: This is +your laying her with your _Greek_ Verse. A notable Conjurer indeed! + +_Hi._ _Crato_, What do you think of this Jade? I could have laid ten +great Devils with such a Verse as this. + +_Ma._ I don't care a Straw for your _Greek_ Verses. + +_Hi._ Well then, I must make use of a magical Spell, or, if that won't +do, _Mercury's_ Mace. + +_Cr._ My _Margaret_, you know we Poets are a Sort of Enthusiasts, I +won't say Mad-Men; prithee let me intreat you to let alone this +Contention 'till another Time, and treat us with good Humour at this +Supper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ What does he trouble me with his Verses for? Often when I am to go +to Market he has never a Penny of Money to give me, and yet he's a +humming of Verses. + +_Cr._ Poets are such Sort of Men. But however, prithee do as I say. + +_Ma._ Indeed I will do it for your Sake, because I know you are an +honest Gentleman, that never beat your Brain about such Fooleries. I +wonder how you came to fall into such Company. + +_Cr._ How come you to think so? + +_Ma._ Because you have a full Nose, sparkling Eyes, and a plump Body. +Now do but see how he leers and sneers at me. + +_Cr._ But prithee, Sweet-Heart, keep your Temper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ Well, I will go, and 'tis for your Sake and no Body's else. + +_Hi._ Is she gone? + +_Ma._ Not so far but she can hear you. + +_Mus._ She is in the Kitchen, now, muttering something to herself I +can't tell what. + +_Cr._ I'll assure you your Maid is not dumb. + +_Hi._ They say a good Maid Servant ought especially to have three +Qualifications; to be honest, ugly, and high-spirited, which the Vulgar +call evil. An honest Servant won't waste, an ugly one Sweet-Hearts won't +woo, and one that is high-spirited will defend her Master's Right; for +sometimes there is Occasion for Hands as well as a Tongue. This Maid of +mine has two of these Qualifications, she's as ugly as she's surly; as +to her Honesty I can't tell what to say to that. + +_Cr._ We have heard her Tongue, we were afraid of her Hands upon your +Account. + +_Hi._ Take some of these Pompions: We have done with the Lettuces. For I +know if I should bid her bring any Lettuces, she would bring Thistles. +Here are Melons too, if any Body likes them better. Here are new Figs +too just gather'd, as you may see by the Milk in the Stalks. It is +customary to drink Water after Figs, lest they clog the Stomach. Here is +very cool clear Spring Water that runs out of this Fountain, that is +good to mix with Wine. + +_Cr._ But I can't tell whether I had best to mix Water with my Wine, or +Wine with Water; this Wine seems to me so likely to have been drawn out +of the Muses Fountain. + +_Hi._ Such Wine as this is good for Poets to sharpen their Wits. You +dull Fellows love heavy Liquors. + +_Cr._ I wish I was that happy _Crassus_. + +_Hi._ I had rather be _Codrus_ or _Ennius_. And seeing I happen to have +the Company of so many learned Guests at my Table, I won't let 'em go +away without learning something of 'em. There is a Place in the Prologue +of _Eunuchus_ that puzzles many. For most Copies have it thus: + + _Sic existimet, sciat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quid laesit prior, + Qui bene vertendo, et ects describendo male, &c. + +Let him so esteem or know, that it is an Answer, not a common Saying; +because he first did the Injury, who by well translating and ill +describing them, &c._ + +In these Words I want a witty Sense, and such as is worthy of _Terence_. +For he did not therefore do the Wrong first, because he translated the +_Greek_ Comedies badly, but because he had found Fault with _Terence's._ + +Eu. According to the old Proverb, _He that sings worst let him begin +first._ When I was at _London_ in _Thomas Linacre's_ House, who is a Man +tho' well skill'd in all Manner of Philosophy, yet he is very ready in +all Criticisms in Grammar, he shew'd me a Book of great Antiquity which +had it thus: + + _Sic existimet, stiat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quale sit prius + Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, + Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas: + Idem Menandri Phasma nunc nuper dedit._ + +The Sentence is so to be ordered, that _quale sit_ may shew that an +Example of that which is spoken before is to be subjoin'd. He threatened +that he would again find Fault with something in his Comedies who had +found Fault with him, and he here denies that it ought to seem a +Reproach but an Answer. He that provokes begins the Quarrel; he that +being provok'd, replies, only makes his Defence or Answer. He promises +to give an Example thereof, _quale sit_, being the same with [Greek: +oion] in _Greek_, and _quod genus, veluti_, or _videlicet_, or _puta_ in +Latin. Then afterwards he brings a reproof, wherein the Adverb _prius_ +hath Relation to another Adverb, as it were a contrary one, which +follows, _viz. nuper_ even as the Pronoun _qui_ answers to the Word +_idem_. For he altogether explodes the old Comedies of _Lavinius_, +because they were now lost out of the Memory of Men. In those which he +had lately published, he sets down the certain Places. I think that this +is the proper Reading, and the true Sense of the Comedian: If the chief +and ordinary Poets dissent not from it. + +_Gu._ We are all entirely of your Opinion. + +_Eu._ But I again desire to be inform'd by you of one small and very +easy Thing, how this Verse is to be scann'd. + + _Ex Græcis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Scan it upon your Fingers. + +_Hi._ I think that according to the Custom of the Antients _s_ is to be +cut off, so that there be an _Anapaestus_ in the second Place. + +_Eu._ I should agree to it, but that the Ablative Case ends in _is_, and +is long by Nature. Therefore though the Consonant should be taken away, +yet nevertheless a long Vowel remains. + +_Hi._ You say right. + +_Cr._ If any unlearned Person or Stranger should come in, he would +certainly think we were bringing up again among ourselves the +Countrymens Play of holding up our Fingers (_dimicatione digitorum_, +_i.e._ the Play of Love). + +_Le._ As far as I see, we scan it upon our Fingers to no Purpose. Do you +help us out if you can. + +_Eu._ To see how small a Matter sometimes puzzles Men, though they be +good Scholars! The Preposition _ex_ belongs to the End of the foregoing +Verse. + + _Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, ex + Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Thus there is no Scruple. + +_Le._ It is so, by the Muses. Since we have begun to scan upon our +Fingers, I desire that somebody would put this Verse out of _Andria_ +into its Feet. + + Sine invidia laudem invenias, et amicos pares. + +For I have often tri'd and could do no good on't. + +_Le. Sine in_ is an Iambic, _vidia_ an Anapæstus, _Laudem in_ is a +Spondee, _venias_ an Anapæstus, _et ami_ another Anapæstus. + +_Ca._ You have five Feet already, and there are three Syllables yet +behind, the first of which is long; so that thou canst neither make it +an _Iambic_ nor a _Tribrach._ + +_Le._ Indeed you say true. We are aground; who shall help us off? + +_Eu._ No Body can do it better than he that brought us into it. Well, +_Carinus_, if thou canst say any Thing to the Matter, don't conceal it +from your poor sincere Friends. + +_Ca._ If my Memory does not fail me, I think I have read something of +this Nature in _Priscian_, who says, that among the Latin Comedians _v_ +Consonant is cut off as well as the Vowel, as oftentimes in this Word +_enimvero;_ so that the part _enime_ makes an Anapæstus. + +_Le._ Then scan it for us. + +_Ca._ I'll do it. _Sine inidi_ is a proseleusmatic Foot, unless you had +rather have it cut off _i_ by Syneresis, as when _Virgil_ puts _aureo_ +at the End of an heroick Verse for _auro._ But if you please let there +be a Tribrach in the first Place, _a lau_ is a Spondee, _d'inveni_ a +Dactyl, _as et a_ a Dactyl, _micos_ a Spondee, _pares_ an Iambic. + +_Sb. Carinus_ hath indeed got us out of these Briars. But in the same +Scene there is a Place, which I can't tell whether any Body has taken +Notice of or not. + +_Hi._ Prithee, let us have it. + +_Sb._ There _Simo_ speaks after this Manner. + + Sine ut eveniat, quod volo, + In Pamphilo ut nihil sit morae, restat Chremes. + +_Suppose it happen, as I desire, that there be no delay in_ Pamphilus; +Chremes _remains._ + +What is it that troubles you in these Words? + +_Sb. Sine_ being a Term of Threatning, there is nothing follows in this +Place that makes for a Threatning. Therefore it is my Opinion that the +Poet wrote it, + + _Sin eveniat, quod volo;_ + +that _Sin_ may answer to the _Si_ that went before. + +_Si propter amorem uxorem nolit ducere._ + +For the old Man propounds two Parts differing from one another: _Si, &c. +If_ Pamphilus _for the Love of_ Glycerie _refuseth to marry, I shall +have some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then it +remains that I must intreat_ Chremes. Moreover the Interruption of +_Sosia_, and _Simo_'s Anger against _Davus_ made too long a +Transposition of the Words. + +_Hi._ _Mouse_, reach me that Book. + +_Cr._ Do you commit your Book to a Mouse? + +_Hi._ More safely than my Wine. Let me never stir, if _Sbrulius_ has not +spoken the Truth. + +_Ca._ Give me the Book, I'll shew you another doubtful Place. This Verse +is not found in the Prologue of _Eunuchus_: + +_Habeo alia multa, quæ nunc condonabuntur._ + +_I have many other Things, which shall now be delivered._ + +Although the _Latin_ Comedians especially take great Liberty to +themselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don't remember that they any +where conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read +_Condonabitur_ impersonally, or _Condonabimus_, changing the Number of +the Person. + +_Ma._ Oh, this is like Poets Manners indeed! As soon as ever they are +set down to Dinner they are at Play, holding up their Fingers, and +poring upon their Books. It were better to reserve your Plays and your +Scholarship for the second Course. + +_Cr. Margaret_ gives us no bad Counsel, we'll humour her; when we have +fill'd our Bellies, we'll go to our Play again; now we'll play with our +Fingers in the Dish. + +_Hi._ Take Notice of Poetick Luxury. You have three Sorts of Eggs, +boil'd, roasted, and fry'd; they are all very new, laid within these two +Days. + +_Par._ I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shall +like 'em very well. + +_Hi._ Boy, go ask _Margaret_ what they are fry'd in. + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in neither. + +_Hi._ What! neither in Butter nor Oil. In what then? + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in Lye. + +_Cr._ She has given you an Answer like your Question. What a great +Difficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil. + +_Ca._ Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a +Beet. + +_Hi._ Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time. +Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting? + +_Mo._ Yes, a great many Things. + +_Hi._ These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat. + +_Mo._ What Sauce would you have? + +_Hi._ Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded. + +_Mo._ I'll tell her, Sir. + +_Hi._ What, do you come back empty-handed? + +_Mo._ She says, Juice is not used to be squeez'd out of Vine Tendrels. + +_Le._ A fine Maid Servant, indeed! + +_Sb._ Well, we'll season our Eggs with pleasant Stories. I found a Place +in the Epodes of _Horace_, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wrong +interpreted, and not only by _Mancinellus_, and other later Writers; but +by _Porphyry_ himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings a +Recantation to the Witch _Canidia_. + + _tuusque venter pactumeius, et tuo + cruore rubros obstetrix pannos lavit, + utcunque fortis exilis puerpera._ + +For they all take _exilis_ to be a Noun in this Place, when it is a +Verb. I'll write down _Porphyry_'s Words, if we can believe 'em to be +his: She is _exilis_, says he, under that Form, as though she were +become deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a natural +Leanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive that +the Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourth +Place admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she did +indeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed long +after her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lusty +lying-in Women used to do. + +_Hi._ We thank you _Sbrulius_, for giving us such fine Sauce to our +Eggs. + +_Le._ There is another Thing in the first Book of _Odes_ that is not +much unlike this. The _Ode_ begins thus: _Tu ne quæ sieris._ Now the +common Reading is thus, _Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut melius +quicquid erit pati_. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, as +if there were no Difficulty in it. Only _Mancinettus_ thinking the +Sentence imperfect, bids us add _possis_. + +_Sb._ Have you any Thing more that is certain about this Matter? + +_Le._ I don't know whether I have or no; but in my Opinion, _Horace_ +seems here to have made Use of the _Greek_ Idiom; and this he does more +than any other of the Poets. For it is a very common Thing with the +_Greeks_, to join an infinitive Mood with the Word [Greek: hôs] and +[Greek: hôste]. And so _Horace_ uses _ut pati_, for _ut patiaris_: +Although what _Mancinellus_ guesses, is not altogether absurd. + +_Hi._ I like what you say very well. Run, _Mouse_, and bring what is to +come, if there be any Thing. + +_Cr._ What new dainty Dish is this? + +_Hi._ This is a Cucumber sliced; this is the Broth of the Pulp of a +Gourd boil'd, it is good to make the Belly loose. + +_Sb._ Truly a medical feast. + +_Hi._ Take it in good Part. There's a Fowl to come out of our Hen-Coop. + +_Sb._ We will change thy Name, and call thee _Apicius_, instead of +_Hilary_. + +_Hi._ Well, laugh now as much as you will, it may be you'll highly +commend this Supper to Morrow. + +_Sb._ Why so? + +_Hi._ When you find that your Dinner has been well season'd. + +_Sb._ What, with a good Stomach? + +_Hi._ Yes, indeed. + +_Cr._ _Hilary_, do you know what Task I would have you take upon you? + +_Hi._ I shall know when you have told me. + +_Cr._ The Choir sings some Hymns, that are indeed learned ones; but are +corrupted in many Places by unlearned Persons. I desire that you would +mend 'em; and to give you an Example, we sing thus: + + _Hostis Herodes impie, + Christum venire quid times?_ + + _Thou wicked Enemy_ Herod, _why dost thou dread the Coming + of Christ?_ + +The mis-placing of one Word spoils the Verse two Ways. For the Word +_hostis_, making a Trochee, has no Place in an _Iambick Verse_, and +_Hero_ being a _Spondee_ won't stand in the second Place. Nor is there +any doubt but the Verse at first was thus written, + + _Herodes hostis impie._ + +For the Epithete _impie_ better agrees with _Hostis_ than with _Herod_. +Besides _Herodes_ being a _Greek_ Word [Greek: ê or ae] is turned into +[Greek: e] in the vocative; as [Greek: Sôkrataes, ô Sokrates]; and so +[Greek: Agamemnôn [Transcribers Note: this word appears in Greek with +the ô represented by the character omega.]] in the nominative Case is +turned into _[Greek: o]_. So again we sing the Hymn, + + _Jesu corona virginum, + Quem mater ilia concepit, + Quæ sola virgo parturit. + + O Jesus the Crown of Virgins, + Whom she the Mother conceiv'd, + Which was the only Person of a Virgin that brought forth._ + +There is no Doubt but the Word should be pronounc'd _concipit._ For the +Change of the Tense sets off a Word. And it is ridiculous for us to +find Fault with _concipit_ when _parlurit_ follows. + +_Hi._ Truly I have been puzzled at a great many such Things; nor will it +be amiss, if hereafter we bestow a little Time upon this Matter. For +methinks _Ambrose_ has not a little Grace in this Kind of Verse, for he +does commonly end a Verse of four Feet with a Word of three Syllables, +and commonly places a _cæsura_ in the End of a Word. It is so common +with him that it cannot seem to have been by Chance. If you would have +an Example, _Deus Creator_. Here is a _Penthemimeris_, it follows, +_omnium; Polique rector_, then follows, _vestiens; diem decoro_, and +then _lumine; noctem soporis_, then follows _gratia_. + +_Hi._ But here's a good fat Hen that has laid me Eggs, and hatch'd me +Chickens for ten Years together. + +_Cr._ It is Pity that she should have been kill'd. + +_Ca._ If it were fit to intermingle any Thing of graver Studies, I have +something to propose. + +_Hi._ Yes, if it be not too crabbed. + +_Ca._ That it is not. I lately began to read _Seneca's_ Epistles, and +stumbled, as they say, at the very Threshold. The Place is in the first +Epistle; _And if_, says he, _thou wilt but observe it, great Part of our +Life passes away while we are doing what is ill; the greatest Part, +while we are doing nothing, and the whole of it while we are doing that +which is to no Purpose_. In this Sentence, he seems to affect I can't +tell what Sort of Witticism, which I do not well understand. + +_Le._ I'll guess, if you will. + +_Ca._ Do so. + +_Le._ No Man offends continually. But, nevertheless, a great Part of +one's Life is lost in Excess, Lust, Ambition, and other Vices; but a +much greater Part is lost in doing of nothing. Moreover they are said to +do nothing, not who live in Idleness, but they who are busied about +frivolous Things which conduce nothing at all to our Happiness: And +thence comes the Proverb, _It is better to be idle, than to be doing, +but to no Purpose_. But the whole Life is spent in doing another Thing. +He is said, _aliud agere_, who does not mind what he is about. So that +the whole of Life is lost: Because when we are vitiously employ'd we are +doing what we should not do; when we are employ'd about frivolous +Matters we do that we should not do; and when we study Philosophy, in +that we do it negligently and carelesly, we do something to no Purpose. +If this Interpretation don't please you, let this Sentence of _Seneca_ +be set down among those Things of this Author that _Aulus Gellius_ +condemns in this Writer as frivolously witty. + +_Hi._ Indeed I like it very well. But in the mean Time, let us fall +manfully upon the Hen. I would not have you mistaken, I have no more +Provision for you. It agrees with what went before. _That is the basest +Loss that comes by Negligence_, and he shews it by this Sentence +consisting of three Parts. But methinks I see a Fault a little after: +_We foresee not Death, a great Part of it is past already._ It is my +Opinion it ought to be read; _We foresee Death._ For we foresee those +Things which are a great Way off from us, when Death for the most Part +is gone by us. + +_Le._ If Philosophers do sometimes give themselves Leave to go aside +into the Meadows of the Muses, perhaps it will not be amiss for us, if +we, to gratify our Fancy, take a Turn into their Territories. + +_Hi._ Why not? + +_Le._ As I was lately reading over again _Aristotle_'s Book that he +entitles [Greek: Peri tôn elenchôn], the Argument of which is for the +most Part common both to Rhetoricians and Philosophers, I happen'd to +fall upon some egregious Mistakes of the Interpreters. And there is no +Doubt but that they that are unskill'd in the _Greek_ have often miss'd +it in many Places. For _Aristotle_ proposes a Sort of such Kind of +Ambiguity as arises from a Word of a contrary Signification. [Greek: ho +ti manthanousin oi epistamenoi ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oi +grammatikoi to gar manthanein omônymon, to te xunienai chrômenon tê +epistêmê, kai to lambanein tên epistêmên.] And they turn it thus. +_Because intelligent Persons learn; for Grammarians are only +tongue-learn'd; for to learn is an equivocal Word, proper both to him +that exerciseth and to him that receiveth Knowledge._ + +_Hi._ Methinks you speak _Hebrew_, and not _English_. + +_Le._ Have any of you heard any equivocal Word? + +_Hi._ No. + +_Le._ What then can be more foolish than to desire to turn that which +cannot possibly be turn'd. For although the _Greek_ Word [Greek: +manthanein], signifies as much as [Greek: mathein] and [Greek: +mathêteuein], so among the _Latins_, _discere_, to learn, signifies as +much as _doctrinam accipere_, or _doctrinam tradere._ But whether this +be true or no I can't tell. I rather think [Greek: manthanein], is of +doubtful Signification with the _Greeks_, as _cognoscere_ is among the +_Latins._ For he that informs, and the Judge that learns, both of them +know the Cause. And so I think among the _Greeks_ the Master is said +[Greek: manthanein] whilst he hears his Scholars, as also the Scholars +who learn of him. But how gracefully hath he turn'd that [Greek: ta gar +apostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi], _nam secundum os +grammatici discunt: For the Grammarians are tongue-learn'd_; since it +ought to be translated, _Nam grammatici, quæ dictitant, docent: +Grammarians teach what they dictate_. Here the Interpreters ought to +have given another Expression, which might not express the same Words, +but the same Kind of Thing. Tho' I am apt to suspect here is some Error +in the _Greek_ Copy, and that it ought to be written [Greek: homônumon +tô te xunienai kai tô lambanein]. And a little after he subjoins another +Example of Ambiguity, which arises not from the Diversity of the +Signification of the same Word, but from a different Connection, [Greek: +to boulesthai labein me tous polemious], _velleme accipere pugnantes. To +be willing that I should receive the fighting Men_: For so he translates +it, instead of _velle me capere hostes, to be willing that I take the +Enemies;_ and if one should read [Greek: boulesthe], it is more +perspicuous. _Vultis ut ego capiam hostes? Will ye that I take the +Enemies?_ For the Pronoun may both go before and follow the Verb +_capere_. If it go before it, the Sense will be this, _Will ye that I +take the Enemies?_ If it follows, then this will be the Sense, _Are ye +willing that the Enemies should take me?_ He adds also another Example +of the same Kind, [Greek: ara ho tis ginôskei, touto ginôskei]. i.e. _An +quod quis novit hoc novit._ The Ambiguity lies in [Greek: touto]. If it +should be taken in the accusative Case, the Sense will be this; +_Whatsoever it is that any Body knows, that Thing he knows to be._ But +if in the nominative Case, the Sense will be this, _That Thing which any +Body knows, it knows;_ as though that could not be known that knows not +again by Course. Again he adds another Example. [Greek: apa ho tis hora, +touto hora; hora de ton kiona hôste hora ho kiôn]. _That which any one +sees, does that Thing see; but he sees a Post, does the Post therefore +see?_ The Ambiguity lies again in [Greek: touto], as we shew'd before. +But these Sentences may be render'd into _Latin_ well enough; but that +which follows cannot possibly by any Means be render'd, [Greek: Ara ho +sy phês einai, touto sy phês einai; phês de lithon einai sy ara phês +lithos einai]. Which they thus render, _putas quod tu dicis esse, hoc tu +dicis esse: dicis autem lapidem esse, tu ergo lapis dicis esse._ Pray +tell me what Sense can be made of these Words? For the Ambiguity lies +partly in the Idiom of the _Greek_ Phrase, which is in the major and +minor. Although in the major there is another Ambiguity in the two Words +[Greek: o] and [Greek: touto], which if they be taken in the nominative +Case, the Sense will be, _That which thou sayest thou art, that thou +art._ But if in the accusative Case the Sense will be, _Whatsoever thou +sayst is, that thou sayst is;_ and to this Sense he subjoins [Greek: +lithon phês einai], but to the former Sense he subjoins [Greek: sy ara +phês lithos einai]. _Catullus_ once attempted to imitate the Propriety +of the _Greek_ Tongue: + + _Phaselus iste, quem videtis, hospites, + Ait fuisse navium celerrimus. + + My Guests, that Gally which you see + The most swift of the Navy is, says he._ + +For so was this Verse in the old Edition. Those who write Commentaries +on these Places being ignorant of this, must of Necessity err many Ways. +Neither indeed can that which immediately follows be perspicuous in the +_Latin_. [Greek: Kai ara eoti sigônta legein; ditton gar esti to sigonta +legein, to te ton legonta sigan, kai to ta legomena.] That they have +render'd thus; _Et putas, est tacentem dicere? Duplex enim est, tacentem +dicere; et hunc dicere tacentem, et quæ dicuntur._ Are not these Words +more obscure than the Books of the _Sibyls_? + +_Hi._ I am not satisfy'd with the _Greek_. + +_Le._ I'll interpret it as well as I can. _Is it possible for a Man to +speak while he is silent?_ This Interrogation has a two-Fold Sense, the +one of which is false and absurd, and the other may be true; for it +cannot possibly be that he who speaks, should not speak what he does +speak; that is that he should be silent while he is speaking; but it is +possible, that he who speaks may be silent of him who speaks. Although +this Example falls into another Form that he adds a little after. And +again, I admire, that a little after, in that kind of Ambiguity that +arises from more Words conjoin'd, the _Greeks_ have chang'd the Word +_Seculum_ into the Letters, [Greek: epistasthai ta grammata], seeing +that the _Latin_ Copies have it, _scire seculum_. For here arises a +double Sense, either _that the Age itself might know something_, or +_that somebody might know the Age_. But this is an easier Translation of +it into [Greek: aiôna] or [Greek: kosmon], than into [Greek: grammata]. +For it is absurd to say that Letters know any Thing; but it is no +absurdity to say, _something is known to our Age_, or _that any one +knows his Age_. And a little after, where he propounds an Ambiguity in +the Accent, the Translator does not stick to put _Virgil's_ Words +instead of _Homer's_, when there was the same Necessity in that Example, +_quicquid dicis esse, hoc est_, _What thou sayst is, it is_. _Aristotle_ +out of _Homer_ says, [Greek: ou kataputhetai ombrô], if [Greek: ou] +should be aspirated and circumflected, it sounds in _Latin_ thus; _Cujus +computrescit pluviâ_; _by whose Rain it putrifies_; but if [Greek: ou] +be acuted and exile, it sounds, _Non computrescit pluviâ; it does not +putrify with Rain_; and this indeed is taken out of the _Iliad_ [Greek: +ps]. Another is, [Greek: didomen de oi euchos aresthai]: the Accent +being placed upon the last Syllable but one, signifies, _grant to him_; +but plac'd upon the first Syllable [Greek: didomen], signifies, _we +grant_. But the Poet did not think _Jupiter_ said, _we grant to him_; +but commands the Dream itself to grant him, to whom it is sent to obtain +his Desire. For [Greek: didomen], is used for [Greek: didonai]. For +these two of _Homer_, these two are added out of our Poets; as that out +of the Odes of _Horace_. + + _Me tuo longas pereunte noctes, + Lydia, dormis._ + +For if the Accent be on _me_ being short, and _tu_ be pronounc'd short, +it is one Word _metuo_; that is, _timeo, I am afraid_: Although this +Ambiguity lies not in the Accent only, but also arises from the +Composition. + +They have brought another Example out of _Virgil_: + + _Heu quia nam tanti cinxerunt aethera nymbi!_ + +Although here also the Ambiguity lies in the Composition. + +_Hi._ _Leonard_, These Things are indeed Niceties, worthy to be known; +but in the mean Time, I'm afraid our Entertainment should seem rather a +Sophistical one, than a Poetical one: At another Time, if you please, +we'll hunt Niceties and Criticisms for a whole Day together. + +_Le._ That is as much as to say, we'll hunt for Wood in a Grove, or seek +for Water in the Sea. + +_Hi._ Where is my Mouse? + +_Mou._ Here he is. + +_Hi._ Bid _Margaret_ bring up the Sweet-Meats. + +_Mus._ I go, Sir. + +_Hi._ What! do you come again empty-handed? + +_Mus._ She says, she never thought of any Sweet-Meats, and that you have +sat long enough already. + +_Hi._ I am afraid, if we should philosophize any longer, she'll come and +overthrow the Table, as _Xantippe_ did to _Socrates_; therefore it is +better for us to take our Sweet-Meats in the Garden; and there we may +walk and talk freely; and let every one gather what Fruit he likes best +off of the Trees. + +_Guests._ We like your Motion very well. + +_Hi._ There is a little Spring sweeter than any Wine. + +_Ca._ How comes it about, that your Garden is neater than your Hall? + +_Hi._ Because I spend most of my Time here. If you like any Thing that +is here, don't spare whatever you find. And now if you think you have +walk'd enough, what if we should sit down together under this Teil Tree, +and rouze up our Muses. + +_Pa._ Come on then, let us do so. + +_Hi._ The Garden itself will afford us a Theme. + +_Pa._ If you lead the Way, we will follow you. + +_Hi._ Well, I'll do so. He acts very preposterously, who has a Garden +neatly trimm'd up, and furnish'd with various Delicacies, and at the +same Time, has a Mind adorn'd with no Sciences nor Virtues. + +_Le._ We shall believe the Muses themselves are amongst us, if thou +shalt give us the same Sentence in Verse. + +_Hi._ That's a great Deal more easy to me to turn Prose into Verse, than +it is to turn Silver into Gold. + +_Le._ Let us have it then: + +_Hi. Cui renidet hortus undiquaque flosculis, + Animumque nullis expolitum dotibus + Squalere patitur, is facit praepostere. + + Whose Garden is all grac'd with Flowers sweet, + His Soul mean While being impolite, + Is far from doing what is meet._ + +Here's Verses for you, without the _Muses_ or _Apollo_; but it will be +very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into +several different Kinds of Verse. + +_Le._ What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory? + +_Hi._ This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or +Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better. + +_Le._ Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill? + +_Hi._ Who shall but _Crato_? And therefore he shall be excused from +versifying, that he may attend the more diligently. + +_Cr._ I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and +Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing +best. + +_Hi._ I like him if the rest do. + +_Gu._ We like our Umpire. Begin, _Leonard_. + +_Le. Cui tot deliciis renidet hortus, + Herbis, fioribus, arborumque foetu, + Et multo et vario, nec excolendum + Curat pectus et artibus probatis, + Et virtutibus, is mihi videtur + Lævo judicio, parumque recto. + + Who that his Garden shine doth mind + With Herbs and Flowers, and Fruits of various kind; + And in mean While, his Mind neglected lies + Of Art and Virtue void, he is not wise._ + +I have said. + +_Hi. Carinus_ bites his Nails, we look for something elaborate from him. + +_Ca._ I'm out of the poetical Vein. + + _Cura cui est, ut niteat hortus flosculis ac foetibus, + Negligenti excolere pectus disciplinis optimis; + Hic labore, mihi ut videtur, ringitur praepostero. + + Whose only Care is that his Gardens be + With Flow'rs and Fruits furnish'd most pleasantly, + But disregards his Mind with Art to grace, + Bestows his Pains and Care much like an Ass._ + +_Hi._ You han't bit your Nails for nothing. + +_Eu._ Well, since my Turn is next, that I may do something, + + _Qui studet ut variis niteat cultissimus hortus + Deliciis, patiens animum squalere, nec ullis + Artibus expoliens, huic est praepostera cura. + + Who cares to have his Garden neat and rare. + And doth of Ornaments his Mind leave bare, + Acts but with a preposterous Care._ + +We have no Need to spur _Sbrulius_ on, for he is so fluent at Verses, +that he oftentimes tumbles 'em out, before he is aware. + +Sb. _Cui vernat hortus cultus et elegans, + Nee pectus uttis artibus excolit; + Praepostera is mra laborat. + Sit ratio tibiprima mentis. + + Who to make his Garden spring, much Care imparts, + And yet neglects his Mind to grace with Arts, + Acts wrong: Look chiefly to improve thy Parts._ + +Pa. _Quisquis accurat, variis ut hortus + Floribus vernet, neque pectus idem + Artibus sanctis colit, hunc habet praepostera cura. + + Who to his Soul prefers a Flower or worse, + May well be said to set the Cart before the Horse._ + +_Hi._ Now let us try to which of us the Garden will afford the most +Sentences. + +_Le._ How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed will +furnish me with what to say. _As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so is +Youth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers; +you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pass not away +without Fruit._ + +_Hi._ It is a Theme very fit for a Verse. + +_Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every one +hath his natural Gift._ + +_Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things for +human Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: So +the Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields a +great many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with various +Vices._ + +_Sb. A Garden ought to be drest every Year, that it may look handsome: +The Mind being once furnish'd with good Learning, does always flourish +and spring forth._ + +_Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off from +honest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek for +such Recreations and Divertisements, as are not contrary to Learning._ + +_Hi._ O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: But +before we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper nor +unprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into _Greek_ Verse, as +often as we have turn'd it into _Latin._ And let _Leonard_ begin, that +has been an old Acquaintance of the _Greek_ Poets. + +_Le._ I'll begin if you bid me. + +_Hi._ I both bid and command you. + +_Le._ [Greek: Hôi kêpos estin anthesin gelôn kalois, + Ho de nous mal auchmôn tois kalois muthêmasin, + Ouk esti kompsos outos, ouk orthôs phronei, + Peri pleionos poiôn ta phaul, ê kreittona]. + + He never entered Wisdom's Doors + Who delights himself in simple Flowers, + And his foul Soul neglects to cleanse. + This Man knows not what Virtue means. + +I have begun, let him follow me that will. + +_Hi. Carinus._ + +_Ca._ Nay, _Hilary._ + +_Le._ But I see here's _Margaret_ coming upon us of a sudden, she's +bringing I know not what Dainties. + +_Hi._ If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. What +hast brought us? + +_Ma._ Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed to +stand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet you +Poets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness. + +_Cr. Margaret_ says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Home +to Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind of +Contest. + +_Hi._ But who do you give the Prize to? + +_Cr._ For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome but +I. + +_Hi._ How did you overcome that did not contend at all. + +_Cr._ Ye have contended, but not try'd it out. I have overcome _Marget_, +and that is more than any of you could do. + +_Ca. Hilary._ He demands what's his Right, let him have the Basket. + + + + +_An ENQUIRY CONCERNING FAITH._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Inquisition concerning Faith, comprehends the Sum + and Substance of the Catholick Profession. He here + introduces a_ Lutheran _that by the Means of the orthodox + Faith, he may bring either Party to a Reconciliation. + Concerning Excommunication, and the Popes Thunderbolts. + And also that we ought to associate ourselves with the + Impious and Heretical, if we have any Hope of amending + them._ Symbolum _is a military Word. A most divine and + elegant Paraphrase upon the Apostles Creed._ + + +AULUS, BARBATUS. + +_AU._ _Salute freely_, is a Lesson for Children. But I can't tell +whether I should bid you be well or no. + +_Ba._ In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me be +so. _Aulus_, Why do you say that? + +_Au._ Why? Because if you have a Mind to know, you smell of Brimstone, +or _Jupiter's_ Thunderbolt. + +_Ba._ There are mischievous Deities, and there are harmless +Thunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that are +ominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication. + +_Au._ You're right. + +_Ba._ I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt the +Blow of the Thunderbolt. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the less +sound. + +_Au._ But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the less +it is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike the +Mountains and the Seas. + +_Ba._ They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effect +upon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or a +Vessel of Brass. + +_Au._ Why, and that affrights too. + +_Ba._ It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. None +but God has Thunderbolts that strike the Soul. + +_Au._ But suppose God is in his Vicar. + +_Ba._ I wish he were. + +_Au._ A great many Folks admire, that you are not become blacker than a +Coal before now. + +_Ba._ Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were so +much the more to be desired, if Men followed the Doctrine of the Gospel. + +_Au._ It is to be wished indeed, but not to be spoken of. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Au._ That he that is smitten with the Thunderbolt may be ashamed and +repent. + +_Ba._ If God had done so by us, we had been all lost. + +_Au._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because when we were Enemies to God, and Worshippers of Idols, +fighting under Satan's Banner, that is to say, every Way most accursed; +then in an especial Manner he spake to us by his Son, and by his +treating with us restored us to Life when we were dead. + +_Au._ That thou say'st is indeed very true. + +_Ba._ In Truth it would go very hard with all sick Persons, if the +Physician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch was +seized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for the +Assistance of a Doctor. + +_Au._ But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemper +than I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visits +a sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician. + +_Ba._ Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in the +Diseases of the Mind you have an Antidote ready against every Contagion. + +_Au._ What's that? + +_Ba._ A strong Resolution not to be removed from the Opinion that has +been fixed in you. But besides, what Need you fear to become a Fighter, +where the Business is managed by Words? + +_Au._ There is something in what you say, if there be any Hope of doing +any good. + +_Ba._ While there is Life there is Hope, and according to St. _Paul, +Charity can't despair, because it hopes all Things_. + +_Au._ You observe very well, and upon this Hope I may venture to +discourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be a +Physician to you. + +_Ba._ Do, with all my Heart. + +_Au._ Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians are +allowed to be inquisitive after every particular Thing. + +_Ba._ Ask me any Thing that you have a Mind to ask me. + +_Au._ I'll try. But you must promise me you'll answer me sincerely. + +_Ba._ I'll promise you. But let me know what you'll ask me about. + +_Au._ Concerning the Apostles Creed. + +_Ba._ _Symbolum_ is indeed a military Word. I will be content to be +look'd upon an Enemy to Christ, if I shall deceive you in this Matter. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, who made the Heaven +and Earth. + +_Ba._ Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and the +Angels also which are Spirits. + +_Au._ When thou say'st God, what dost thou understand by it? + +_Ba._ I understand a certain eternal Mind, which neither had Beginning +nor shall have any End, than which nothing can be either greater, wiser, +or better. + +_Au._ Thou believest indeed like a good Christian. + +_Ba._ Who by his omnipotent Beck made all Things visible or invisible; +who by his wonderful Wisdom orders and governs all Things; who by his +Goodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankind +when fallen. + +_Au._ These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But what +Benefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them? + +_Ba._ When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly to +him, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels is +nothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teach +to have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done by +him, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, how +impossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrusting +my own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When I +consider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believe +all Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they may +seem to human Sense absurd or unjust. When I animadvert on his Goodness, +I see nothing in myself that I do not owe to free Grace, and I think +there is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a true +Penitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks in +Faith. + +_Au._ Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him to +be so? + +_Ba._ By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust and +Confidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magic +Arts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equalling +nothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife, +nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to lay +down my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possibly +perish who commits himself wholly to him. + +_Au._ What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothing +but God alone? + +_Ba._ If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, it +is for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring all +Things to his Glory, always giving Thanks to him for whatsoever happens, +whether prosperous or adverse, Life or Death. + +_Au._ In Truth your Confession is very sound so far. What do you think +concerning the second Person? + +_Ba._ Examine me. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe Jesus was God and Man? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Could it be that the same should be both immortal God and mortal +Man? + +_Ba._ That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: And +by Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father, +whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, I +attribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owe +also to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father to +bestow all Things on us through him. + +_Au._ Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lord +than God? + +_Ba._ Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, of +Sovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who is +absolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of the +Godhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' the +Father also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God the +Father. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Place +among the divine Persons. + +_Au._ Then dost thou put thy Confidence in _Jesus_? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ But the Prophet calls him accursed who puts his Trust in Man. + +_Ba._ But to this Man alone hath all the Power in Heaven and Earth been +given, that at his Name every Knee should bow, both of Things in Heaven, +Things in Earth, and Things under the Earth. Although I would not put my +chief Confidence and Hope in him, unless he were God. + +_Au._ Why do you call him Son? + +_Ba._ Lest any should imagine him to be a Creature. + +_Au._ Why an only Son? + +_Ba._ To distinguish the natural Son from the Sons by Adoption, the +Honour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for no +other besides this Son. + +_Au._ Why would he have him to be made Man, who was God? + +_Ba._ That being Man, he might reconcile Men to God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he was conceived without the Help of Man, by the +Operation of the holy Ghost, and born of the undented Virgin _Mary_, +taking a mortal Body of her Substance? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Why would he be so born? + +_Ba._ Because it so became God to be born, because it became him to be +born in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of our +Conception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, that +we being regenerated into him, might be made the Sons of God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he lived here upon Earth, did Miracles, +taught those Things that are recorded to us in the Gospel? + +_Ba._ Ay, more certainly than I believe you to be a Man. + +_Au._ I am not an _Apuleius_ turned inside out, that you should suspect +that an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe this +very Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowed +out, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the _Jews_ looked +for so many Ages? + +_Ba._ I believe nothing more firmly. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead us +to perfect Piety? + +_Ba._ Yes, perfectly sufficient. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that the same was really apprehended by the +_Jews_, bound, buffeted, beaten, spit upon, mock'd, scourg'd under +_Pontius Pilate_; and lastly, nailed to the Cross, and there died? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Do you believe him to have been free from all the Law of Sin +whatsoever? + +_Ba._ Why should I not? A Lamb without Spot. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he suffered all these Things of his own accord? + +_Ba._ Not only willingly, but even with great Desire; but according to +the Will of his Father. + +_Au._ Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and most +dear to him, suffer all these Things? + +_Ba._ That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who were +guilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name. + +_Au._ Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did suffer +them, was there no other Way to be found out to repair our Fall? + +_Ba._ Not human Reason, but Faith hath persuaded me of this, that it +could be done no Way better nor more beneficially for our Salvation. + +_Au._ Why did this Kind of Death please him best? + +_Ba._ Because in the Esteem of the World it was the most disgraceful, +and because the Torment of it was cruel and lingring, because it was +meet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World unto +Salvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World, +and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenly +Things; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazen +Serpent that _Moses_ set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix his +Eyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfil +the Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, _say ye among the Nations, God +hath reign'd from a Tree_. + +_Au._ Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed with +Myrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard and +natural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen set +there? + +_Ba._ That it might be the more manifest that he was really dead. + +_Au._ Why did he not rise again presently? + +_Ba._ For the very same Reason; for if his Death had been doubtful, his +Resurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be as +certain as possible could be. + +_Au._ Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell? + +_Ba._ St. _Cyprian_ affirms that this Clause was not formerly inserted +either in the _Roman_ Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches, +neither is it recorded in _Tertullian_, a very ancient Writer. And yet +notwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with the +Prophecy of the Psalm, _Thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell_; and again, +_O Lord, thou hast brought my Soul out of Hell_. And also because the +Apostle _Peter_, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of the +Author whereof no Man ever doubted,) writes after this Manner, _Being +put to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also he +came and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison_. But +though I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not suffer +anything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that he +might destroy the Kingdom of Satan. + +_Au._ Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that he +might restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did he +rise to live again? + +_Ba._ For three Reasons especially. + +_Au._ Which are they? + +_Ba._ First of all, to give us an assur'd Hope of our Resurrection. +Secondly, that we might know that he in whom we have plac'd the Safety +of our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that we +being dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him by +Baptism, should by his Grace be raised up again to Newness of Life. + +_Au._ Do you believe that the very same Body that died upon the Cross, +which reviv'd in the Grave, which was seen and handled by the Disciples, +ascended into Heaven? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Why would he leave the Earth? + +_Ba._ That we might all love him spiritually, and that no Man should +appropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equally +lift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Men +now so much please themselves in the Colour and Shape of the Garment, +and do boast so much of the Blood or the Foreskin of Christ, and the +Milk of the Virgin _Mary_, what do you think would have been, had he +abode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would those +Peculiarities of his Body have occasioned? + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at the +right Hand of the Father? + +_Ba._ Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all his +Father's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and he +presented this Sight to his Martyr _Stephen_. + +_Au._ Why did he shew it? + +_Ba._ That we may not be discouraged in any Thing, well knowing what a +powerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven. + +_Au._ Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judge +the Quick and the Dead? + +_Ba._ As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretold +concerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, that +whatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass. +We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of the +Prophets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. We +shall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory of +his Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and of +every Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, _Greeks_, or _Scythians_, +shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming he +shall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning of +the World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and behold +his Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall be +there as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will, +from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast the +Devil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternal +Punishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief to +any. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to a +Fellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have the +Day of his coming unknown to all. + +_Au._ I hear no Error yet. Let us now come to the third Person. + +_Ba._ As you please. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ I do believe that it is true God, together with the Father, and +the Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and New +Testament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attains +Salvation. + +_Au._ Why is he called a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds are +quicken'd by the secret Inspiration of the holy Spirit. + +_Au._ Is it not lawful to call the Father a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ Are not then the Persons confounded? + +_Ba._ No, not at all, for the Father is called a Spirit, because he is +without a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according to +their divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because he +breathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even as +the Air breathes from the Land, or the Rivers. + +_Au._ Why is the Name of Son given to the second Person? + +_Ba._ Because of his perfect Likeness of Nature and Will. + +_Au._ Is the Son more like the Father, than the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ Not according to the divine Nature, except that he resembles the +Property of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds from +him also. + +_Au._ What hinders then, but that the holy Spirit may be called Son. + +_Ba._ Because, as St. _Hilary_ saith, I no where read that he was +begotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the _Spirit, and +that proceeding from_. + +_Au._ Why is the Father alone called God in the Creed? + +_Ba._ Because he, as I have said before, is simply the Author of all +Things that are, and the Fountain of the whole Deity. + +_Au._ Speak in plainer Terms. + +_Ba._ Because nothing can be nam'd which hath not its Original from the +Father: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit is +God, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; therefore +the chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in the +Father alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it may +be so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, but +used in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms of +Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Nature +comprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the three +Persons. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ No. + +_Au._ What say you? Do you not believe in it? + +_Ba._ I believe the holy Church, which is the Body of Christ; that is to +say, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, who +agree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, who +put their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spirit +of him; from whose Fellowship he is cut off that commits a deadly Sin. + +_Au._ But why do you stick to say, I believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ Because St. _Cyprian_ hath taught me, that we must believe in God +alone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church, +properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet it +consists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, and +deceive others. + +_Au._ What do you think of the Communion of Saints? + +_Ba._ This Article is not all meddled with by _Cyprian_, when he +particularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used; +for he thus connects them: _For there followeth after this Saying, the +holy Church, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of this Flesh_. +And some are of Opinion, that this Part does not differ from the former; +but that it explains and enforces what before was called _the holy +Church_; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of one +God, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the same +Spirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communion +of all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from the +Beginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of the +Members of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds of +one may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. But +out of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further his +Salvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; and +therefore it follows, _the Forgiveness of Sins_; because out of the +Church there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himself +away with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, I +say, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered by +the Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and after +Baptism, by Repentence, and the Keys given to the Church. + +_Au._ Thus far they are the Words of a Man that is sound in the Faith. +Do you believe that there will be a Resurrection of the Flesh? + +_Ba._ I should believe all the rest to no Purpose, if I did not believe +this, which is the Head of all. + +_Au._ What dost thou mean, when thou say'st the Flesh? + +_Ba._ An human Body animated with a human Soul. + +_Au._ Shall every Soul receive its own Body which is left dead? + +_Ba._ The very same from whence it went out; and therefore, in Cyprian's +Creed, it is added, _of this Flesh_. + +_Au._ How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'd +out of one Thing into another, can rise again the same? + +_Ba._ He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it a +hard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath been +changed in its Form? I don't dispute anxiously which Way it can be done; +it is sufficient to me, that he who hath promised that it shall be so, +is so true, that he can't lye, and so powerful, as to be able to bring +to pass with a Beck, whatsoever he pleases. + +_Au._ What need will there be of a Body then? + +_Ba._ That the whole Man may be glorified with Christ, who, in this +World, was wholly afflicted with Christ. + +_Au._ What means that which he adds, _and Life everlasting_. + +_Ba._ Lest any one should think that we shall so rise again, as the +Frogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is a +twofold Death of the Body, that is common to all Men, both good and bad; +and of the Soul, and the Death of the Soul is Sin. But after the +Resurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body and +Soul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, old +Age, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; but +being made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Nor +shall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; but +shall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On the +contrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon the +wicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduring +everlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with the +Gripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, and +unfeignedly? + +_Ba._ I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so sure +that you talk with me. + +_Au._ When I was at _Rome_, I did not find all so sound in the Faith. + +_Ba._ Nay; but if you examine thoroughly, you'll find a great many +others in other Places too, which do not so firmly believe these Things. + +_Au._ Well then, since you agree with us in so many and weighty Points, +what hinders that you are not wholly on our Side? + +_Ba._ I have a mind to hear that of you: For I think that I am orthodox. +Although I will not warrant for my Life yet I endeavour all I can, that +it may be suitable to my Profession. + +_Au._ How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between you +and the orthodox? + +_Ba._ Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are not +displeased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; and +after Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give you +both Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; and +after that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast of +mine, that you may make a better Judgment of me. + +_Au._ But I make it a matter of Scruple to eat with thee. + +_Ba._ But Physicians use to eat with their Patients, that they might +better observe what they love, and wherein they are irregular. + +_Au._ But I am afraid, lest I should seem to favour Hereticks. + +_Ba._ Nay, but there is nothing more religious than to favour Hereticks. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Did not _Paul_ wish to be made an _Anathema_ for the _Jews_, which +were worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that a +Man may be made a good Man of a bad Man? + +_Au._ Yes, he does so. + +_Ba._ Well then, do you favour me thus, and you need not fear any Thing. + +_Au._ I never heard a sick Man answer more to the Purpose. Well, come +on, let me dine with you then. + +_Ba._ You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes a +Doctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, that +the Mind shall be never the less fit for Disputation. + +_Au._ Well, let it be so, with good Birds (_i.e._ with good Success). + +_Ba._ Nay, it shall be with bad Fishes, unless you chance to have forgot +that it is _Friday._ + +_Au._ Indeed, that is beside our Creed. + + + + +_The OLD MENS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + [Greek: Terontologia], or, [Greek: Ochêma], _shews, as + tho' it were in a Looking-glass, what Things are to be + avoided in Life, and what Things contribute to the + Tranquillity of Life. Old Men that were formerly intimate + Acquaintance when Boys, after forty Years Absence, one + from the other, happen to meet together, going to_ + Antwerp. _There seems to be a very great Inequality in + them that are equal in Age._ Polygamus, _he is very old:_ + Glycion _has no Signs of Age upon him, tho' he is sixty + six; he proposes a Method of keeping off old Age. I. He + consults what Sort of Life to chuse, and follows the + Advice of a prudent old Man, who persuades him to marry a + Wife that was his equal, making his Choice with Judgment, + before he falls in Love. 2. He has born a publick Office, + but not obnoxious to troublesome Affairs. 3. He transacts + Affairs that do not expose him to Envy. 4. He bridles his + Tongue. 5. He is not violently fond of, nor averse to any + Thing. He moderates his Affections, suffers no Sorrow to + abide with him all Night. 6. He abstains from Vices, and + renews his Patience every Day. 7. He is not anxiously + thoughtful of Death. 8. He does not travel into foreign + Countries. 9. He has nothing to do with Doctors. 10. He + diverts himself with Study, but does not study himself + lean. On the other hand_, Polygamus _has brought old Age + upon him, by the Intemperance of his Youth, by Drinking, + Whoring, Gaming, running in Debt; he had had eight + Wives._ Pampirus, _he becomes a Merchant; but consumes + all he has by Gaming; then he becomes a Canon; then a + Carthusian; after that a Benedictine; and last of all, + turns Soldier._ Eusebius, _he gets a good Benefice and + preaches._ + + +EUSEBIUS, PAMPIRUS, POLYGAMUS, GLYCION, HUGUITIO, _and_ HARRY _the +Coachman._ + +_Euseb._ What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do not +see clear, I see three old Companions sitting by me; _Pampirus, +Polygamus_ and _Glycion;_ they are certainly the very same. + +_Pa._ What do you mean, with your Glass Eyes, you Wizard? Pray come +nearer a little, _Eusebius._ + +_Po._ Hail, heartily, my wish'd for _Eusebius._ + +_Gl._ All Health to you, the best of Men. + +_Eu._ One Blessing upon you all, my dear Friends. What God, or +providential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none of +us have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why _Mercury_ with +his Mace could not have more luckily brought us together into a Circle; +but what are you doing here? + +_Pa._ We are sitting. + +_Eu._ I see that, but what do you sit for? + +_Po._ We wait for the _Antwerp_ Waggon. + +_Eu._ What, are you going to the Fair? + +_Po._ We are so: but rather Spectators, than Traders, tho' one has one +Business, and another has another. + +_Eu._ Well, and I am going thither myself too. But what hinders you, +that you are not going? + +_Po._ We han't agreed with the Waggoner yet. + +_Eu._ These Waggoners are a surly Sort of People; but are you willing +that we put a Trick upon them? + +_Po._ With all my Heart, if it can be done fairly. + +_Eu._ We will pretend that we will go thither a-Foot together. + +_Po._ They'll sooner believe that a Crab-Fish will fly, than that such +heavy Fellows as we will take such a Journey on Foot. + +_Eu._ Will you follow good wholsome Advice? + +_Po._ Yes, by all Means. + +_Gl._ They are a drinking, and the longer they are fuddling, the more +Danger we shall be in of being overturned in the Dirt. + +_Po._ You must come very early, if you find a Waggoner sober. + +_Gl._ Let us hire the Waggon for us four by ourselves, that we may get +to _Antwerp_ the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worth +minding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shall +have the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly in +mutual Conversation. + +_Po._ _Glycion_ is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journey +does the Office of a Coach; and according to the _Greek_ Proverb, we +shall have more Liberty of talking, not about a Waggon, but in a Waggon. + +_Gl._ Well, I have made a Bargain, let us get up. Now I've a Mind to be +merry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades after +so long a Separation. + +_Eu._ And methinks I seem to grow young again. + +_Po._ How many Years do you reckon it, since we liv'd together at Paris? + +_Eu._ I believe it is not less than two and forty Years. + +_Pa._ Then we seem'd to be all pretty much of an Age. + +_Eu._ We were so, pretty near the Matter, for if there was any +Difference it was very little. + +_Pa._ But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycion +has nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough to +be his Grandfather. + +_Eu._ Why truly he does so, but what should be the Reason of it? + +_Pa._ What? Why either the one loiter'd and stopp'd in his Course, or +the other run faster (out-run him). + +_Eu._ Oh! Time does not stay, how much soever Men may loiter. + +_Po._ Come, tell us, _Glycion_ truly, how many Years do you number? + +_Gl._ More than Ducats in my Pocket. + +_Po._ Well, but how many? + +_Gl._ Threescore and six. + +_Eu._ Why thou'lt never be old. + +_Po._ But by what Arts hast thou kept off old Age? for you have no grey +Hairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth are +white and even, you have a fresh Colour, and a plump Body. + +_Gl._ I'll tell you my Art, upon Condition you'll tell us your Art of +coming to be old so soon. + +_Po._ I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither you +went when you left _Paris._ + +_Gl._ I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had been +there almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life to +chuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to my +future Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successful +to some, and what had been unsuccessful to others. + +_Po._ I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggot +as any in the World, when you were at _Paris._ + +_Gl._ Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, you +must know, I did not do all this neither of my own mother-Wit. + +_Po._ Indeed I stood in Admiration. + +_Gl._ Before I engaged in any Thing, I applied to a certain Citizen, a +Man of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of a +general Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the most +happy Man in the World. + +_Eu._ You did wisely. + +_Gl._ By this Man's Advice I married a Wife. + +_Po._ Had she a very good Portion? + +_Gl._ An indifferent good one, and according to the Proverb, in a +competent Proportion to my own: For I had just enough to do my Business, +and this Matter succeeded to my Mind. + +_Po._ What was your Age then? + +_Gl._ Almost two and twenty. + +_Po._ O happy Man! + +_Gl._ But don't mistake the Matter; all this was not owing to Fortune +neither. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Gl._ I'll tell you; some love before they chuse, I made my Choice with +Judgment first, and then lov'd afterwards, and nevertheless I married +this Woman more for the Sake of Posterity than for any carnal +Satisfaction. With her I liv'd a very pleasant Life, but not above eight +Years. + +_Po._ Did she leave you no children? + +_Gl._ Nay, I have four alive, two Sons and two Daughters. + +_Po._ Do you live as a private Person, or in some publick Office? + +_Gl._ I have a publick Employ. I might have happen'd to have got into a +higher Post, but I chose this because it was creditable enough to secure +me from Contempt, and is free from troublesome Attendance: And it is +such, that no Body need object against me that I live only for myself, I +have also something to spare now and then to assist a Friend. With this +I live content, and it is the very Height of my Ambition. And then I +have taken Care so to execute my Office, to give more Reputation to my +Office than I receiv'd from it; this I account to be more honourable, +than to borrow my Dignity from the Splendor of my Office. + +_Eu._ Without all Controversy. + +_Gl._ By this Means I am advanced in Years, and the Affections of my +fellow Citizens. + +_Eu._ But that's one of the difficultest Things in the World, when with +very good Reason there is this old Saying: _He that has no Enemies has +no Friends_; and _Envy is always an Attendant on Felicity_. + +_Gl._ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a +Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage +to myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as +I could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance of +Business. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I kept +myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining +the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so +serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of +any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften +it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good +Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid +Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my +Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, I +affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and +resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or +does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy +his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I +never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to +come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent +Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with +Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between +Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or +heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate +them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear +of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens. + +_Pa._ Did you not find a single Life irksome to you? + +_Gl._ Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more +afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately +wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the +Comfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw +it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both, +and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself +with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased. + +_Pol._ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the +first having been so happy a Match to you? + +_Gl._ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of +Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again. + +_Pol._ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a +Bedfellow. + +_Gl._ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the +Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will +be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed to +be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life. +And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now +_Metrodorus_ pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good +in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that +Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for +any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune +happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any +thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd. + +_Pa._ Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than +_Thales_ himself. + +_Gl._ If any Uneasiness in my Mind rises, (as mortal Life produces many +of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from +the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly. + +_Pol._ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Anger +of the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequently +are. + +_Gl._ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an +Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with +myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will +be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at +first, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I be +sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to +go to Bed with me. + +_Eu._ No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper. + +_Gl._ Well, and that I mayn't conceal any thing from Friends, in an +especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any +Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my +Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty +Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I +have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain +of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, [Greek: +euthymia]. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury. + +_Eu._ Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of +Death? + +_Gl._ No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die, +and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be +sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but +to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a +Man can't live happily that does not live piously. + +_Pa._ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in +the same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself. + +_Gl._ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but +then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's +Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to +myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in +Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Years +together, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about two +Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a +Country-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to the +City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from +the new-found Islands. + +_Eu._ Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick? + +_Gl._ I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet. +If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet +or the Country Air. + +_Eu._ Don't you study sometimes? + +_Gl._ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a +Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit +of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of +learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my +Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and +walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I +have read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after +a While I return to my Book again. + +_Eu._ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none +of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many? + +_Gl._ My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix any +thing deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I +have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myself +young, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Age +upon him to that Degree. + +_Po._ Indeed, I will hide nothing from such trusty Companions. + +_Eu._ You will tell it to those that will not make a Discourse of it. + +_Po._ You very well know I indulg'd my Appetite when I was at _Paris_. + +_Eu._ We remember it very well. But we thought that you had left your +rakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_. + +_Po._ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was big +with Child. + +_Eu._ What, into your Father's House? + +_Po._ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who was +to come to her in a little Time. + +_Gl._ Did your Father believe it? + +_Po._ He smelt the Matter out in three or four Days time, and then there +was a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave off +Feasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, my +Father continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cackling +Gossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, I +march'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought me +some young Chickens. + +_Pa._ Where had you Money all the While? + +_Po._ My Mother gave me some by Stealth, and I ran over Head and Ears in +Debt. + +_Eu._ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you? + +_Po._ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily than +they will a Spendthrift. + +_Pa._ And what next? + +_Po._ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in good +earnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon this +Condition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one of +our own Country. + +_Eu._ Was she your Wife? + +_Po._ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, but +there had been carnal Copulation in the present Tense. + +_Eu._ How could you leave her then? + +_Po._ It came to be known afterwards, that my _French_ Woman had a +_French_ Husband that she had elop'd from some Time before. + +_Eu._ But it seems you have a Wife now. + +_Po._ None besides this which is my Eighth. + +_Eu._ The Eighth! Why then you were named _Polygamus_ by Way of +Prophecy. Perhaps they all died without Children. + +_Po._ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I have +at Home. + +_Eu._ I had rather have so many Hens at Home, which would lay me Eggs. +An't you weary of wifeing? + +_Po._ I am so weary of it, that if this Eighth should die to Day, I +would marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not have +two or three, when one Cock has so many Hens. + +_Eu._ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and that +you have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings on +old Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours, +and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But who +maintains your Family all this While? + +_Po._ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I work +hard with my Hands. + +_Eu._ Have you given over Study then? + +_Po._ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Master +of seven Arts, I am become a Workman of but one Art. + +_Eu._ Poor Man! So many Times you were obliged to be a Mourner, and so +many Times a Widower. + +_Po._ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always put +an End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth the +Epitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration of +his Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he is +two or three Years older than I. + +_Pa._ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such a +Romance. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it. + +_Pa._ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly to +enter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what I +had; and after long Consultation Merchandizing was what I took to. + +_Po._ I admire this Way of Life pleas'd you more than any other. + +_Pa._ I was naturally greedy to know new Things, to see various +Countries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners of +Men, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. From +which a general Knowledge of Things proceeds. + +_Po._ But a wretched one, which is often purchas'd with Inconveniencies. + +_Pa._ It is so, therefore my Father gave me a good large Stock, that I +might begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time I +courted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone off +without a Portion. + +_Eu._ Did you succeed? + +_Pa._ No. Before I came Home, I lost all, Stock and Block. + +_Eu._ Perhaps by Shipwreck. + +_Pa._ By Shipwreck indeed. For we run upon more dangerous Rocks than +those of _Scilly_. + +_Eu._ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is the +Name of it? + +_Pa._ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamous +for the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, the +Devil's Bones] in _Latin_, how you call it in _Greek_ I can't tell. + +_Eu._ O Fool! + +_Pa._ Nay, my Father was a greater Fool, to trust a young Fop with such +a Sum of Money. + +_Gl._ And what did you do next? + +_Pa._ Why nothing at all, but I began to think of hanging myself. + +_Gl._ Was your Father so implacable then? For such a Loss might be made +up again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes the +first Essay, and much more it ought to be to one that tries all Things. + +_Pa._ Tho' what you say may be true, I lost my Wife in the mean Time. +For as soon as the Maid's Parents came to understand what they must +expect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head and +Ears in Love. + +_Gl._ I pity thee. But what did you propose to yourself after that? + +_Pa._ To do as it is usual in desperate Cases. My Father had cast me +off, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'd +a Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberate +seriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether I +should throw myself into a Monastery. + +_Eu._ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, the +easier Way of Dying. + +_Pa._ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'd +to me the most painful. + +_Gl._ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that they +may live more comfortably there. + +_Pa._ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole out +of my own Country. + +_Gl._ Whither did you go at last? + +_Pa._ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order that +wear Linnen outwards and Woollen next their Skin. + +_Gl._ Did you spend your Winter in _Ireland_? + +_Pa._ No. But by that Time I had been among them two Months I sail'd +into _Scotland_. + +_Gl._ What displeas'd you among them? + +_Pa._ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enough +for the Deserts of one, that once Hanging was too good for. + +_Gl._ Well, what past in _Scotland_? + +_Pa._ Then I chang'd my Linnen Habit for a Leathern one, among the +Carthusians. + +_Eu._ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead to +the World. + +_Pa._ It seem'd so to me, when I heard them Singing. + +_Gl._ What? Do dead Men sing? But how many Months did you spend among +the _Scots_? + +_Pa._ Almost six. + +_Gl._ A wonderful Constancy. + +_Eu._ What offended you there? + +_Pa._ Because it seem'd to me to be a lazy, delicate Sort of Life; and +then I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reason +of their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid I +should lose it all. + +_Po._ Whither did you take your next Flight? + +_Pa._ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of the +Order of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, that +they are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, that +for their upper Garment wore Hair-Cloth like a Net. + +_Gl._ A grievous Mortification of the Flesh. + +_Pa._ Here I stay'd eleven Months. + +_Eu._ What was the Matter that you did not stay there for good and all? + +_Pa._ Because I found there were more Ceremonies than true Piety: And +besides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which +_Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit being +chang'd into a white one; with these I liv'd ten Months. + +_Eu._ What disgusted you here? + +_Pa._ I did not much dislike any Thing, for I found them very good +Company; but the _Greek_ Proverb ran in my Mind; + + [Greek: Dei tas chelônas ê phagein ê mê phagein.] + + _One must either eat Snails, or eat nothing at all._ + +Therefore I came to a Resolution, either not to be a Monk, or to be a +Monk to Perfection. I had heard there were some of the Order of St. +_Bridget_, that were really heavenly Men, I betook myself to these. + +_Eu._ How many Months did you stay there? + +_Pa._ Two Days; but not quite that. + +_Gl._ Did that Kind of Life please you no better than so? + +_Pa._ They take no Body in, but those that will profess themselves +presently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily to +put my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And as +often as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that I +had lost, tormented my Mind. + +_Gl._ Well, and what after this? + +_Pa._ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I met +with any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up and +down, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at first +Sight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Some +carried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some a +party-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some a +quadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, that +I might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I found +in reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Cross +on a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tired +with Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holiness +all at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so would +return Home with a Back-Load of Sanctimony. + +_Po._ And did you go thither? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Po._ Where did you get Money to bear your Charges? + +_Pa._ I wonder it never came into your Head, to ask that before now, and +not to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the old +Proverb; _a Man of Art will live any where_. + +_Gl._ What Art do you carry with you? + +_Pa._ Palmistry. + +_Gl._ Where did you learn it? + +_Pa._ What signifies that? + +_Gl._ Who was your Master? + +_Pa._ My Belly, the great Master of all Arts: I foretold Things past, +present, and to come. + +_Gl._ And did you know any Thing of the Matter? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all; but I made bold Guesses, and run no Risque +neither, having got my Money first. + +_Po._ And was so ridiculous an Art sufficient to maintain you? + +_Pa._ It was, and two Servants too: There is every where such a Number +of foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to +_Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who being +seventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless he +had first visited _Jerusalem_. + +_Eu._ What, did he leave a Wife at Home? + +_Pa._ Yes, and six Children. + +_Eu._ O impious, pious, old Man! Well, and did you come back holy from +thence? + +_Pa._ Shall I tell you the Truth? Somewhat worse than I went. + +_Eu._ So, as I hear, your Religion was grown cool. + +_Pa._ Nay, it grew more hot: So I went back into _Italy_, and enter'd +into the Army. + +_Eu._ What, then, did you look for Religion in the Camp. Than which, +what is there that can be more impious? + +_Pa._ It was a holy War. + +_Eu._ Perhaps against the _Turks_. + +_Pa._ Nay, more holy than that, as they indeed gave out at that Time. + +_Eu._ What was that? + +_Pa._ Pope _Julius_ the Second made War upon the _French_. And the +Experience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier's +Life. + +_Eu._ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones. + +_Pa._ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than I +did in the Monasteries. + +_Eu._ And what did you do after this? + +_Pa._ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to my +Business of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward in +Pursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came into +my Mind, that I might follow both together. + +_Eu._ What, be a Merchant and a Monk both together? + +_Pa._ Why not? There is nothing more religious than the Orders of +Mendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly over +Sea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enter +into the Houses of common People, Noblemen, and Kings. + +_Eu._ Ay, but they don't Trade for Gain. + +_Pa._ Very often, with better Success than we do. + +_Eu._ Which of these Orders did you make Choice of? + +_Pa._ I try'd them all. + +_Eu._ Did none of them please you? + +_Pa._ I lik'd them all well enough, if I might but presently have gone +to Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time in +the Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began to +think how I might get to be made an Abbot: But, I thought with myself, +_Kissing goes by Favour_, and it will be a tedious Pursuit: So having +spent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, I +return'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myself +to my old Business of Traffick. + +_Gl._ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and were +transform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could you +behave yourself with a proper Decorum? + +_Pa._ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act several +Parts? + +_Eu._ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort of +Life, which you most approve of. + +_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which I +follow. + +_Eu._ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it. + +_Pa._ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that is +entirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the best +on't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much to +acquaint his Friends with some Scenes of his Course of Life. + +_Eu._ Nay, with the whole Play of it, if you please to hear it, for it +does not consist of many Acts. + +_Gl._ It will be a very great Favour. + +_Eu._ When I return'd to my own Country, I took a Year to deliberate +what Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment my +Inclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary was +offered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I accepted +it. + +_Gl._ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People. + +_Eu._ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth the +accepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so many +Advantages to fall into a Man's Mouth, as tho' they dropt out of Heaven; +handsome Houses well furnish'd, a large Revenue, an honourable Society, +and a Church at Hand, to serve God in, when you have a Mind to it? + +_Pa._ I was scandaliz'd at the Luxury of the Persons, and the Infamy of +their Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have an +Aversion to Learning. + +_Eu._ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, and +associate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that are +bad better. + +_Po._ And is that the State of Life you have always liv'd in? + +_Eu._ Always, except four Years, that I liv'd at _Padua_. + +_Po._ What did you do there? + +_Eu._ These Years I divided in this Manner; I studied Physick a Year and +a half, and the rest of the Time Divinity. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Eu._ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and also +sometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preached +sometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I have +led a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not being +ambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it had +been offered me. + +_Pa._ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions have +liv'd, that were our Familiars. + +_Eu._ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not far +from the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up the +same Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure. + +_Hugh. [a Waggoner.]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up this +Rubbish? + +_Harry the Waggoner._ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp? + +_Hugh._ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bed +of Nettles, to make them grow warm again. + +_Harry._ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into a +Pond to cool them, to lay their Concupiscence, for they are too hot. + +_Hugh._ I am not us'd to overturn my Passengers. + +_Harry._ No? but I saw you a little While ago, overturn Half a Dozen +Carthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they came +out black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some noble +Exploit. + +_Hugh._ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a dead +Weight to my Waggon. + +_Harry._ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, have +made my Waggon go light. I never had a better Fare. + +_Hugh._ But you don't use to like such Passengers. + +_Harry._ But these are good old Men. + +_Hugh._ How do you know that? + +_Harry._ Because they made me drink humming Ale, three Times by the Way. + +_Hugh._ Ha, ha, ha, then they are good to you. + + + + +_The FRANCISCANS,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or RICH BEGGARS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Franciscans, _or rich poor Persons, are not + admitted into the House of a Country Parson_. Pandocheus + _jokes wittily upon them. The Habit is not to be + accounted odious. The Life and Death of the_ Franciscans. + _Of the foolish Pomp of Habits. The Habits of Monks are + not in themselves evil. What Sort of Persons Monks ought + to be. The Use of Garments is for Necessity and Decency. + What Decency is. Whence arose the Variety of Habits and + Garments among the Monks. That there was in old Time no + Superstition in the Habits._ + + +CONRADE, _a Bernardine_ Monk, _a_ Parson, _an_ Inn-Keeper _and his_ +Wife. + +_Con._ Hospitality becomes a Pastor. + +_Pars._ But I am a Pastor of Sheep; I don't love Wolves. + +_Con._ But perhaps you don't hate a Wench so much. But what Harm have we +done you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so much +as admit us under your Roof? We won't put you to the Charge of a Supper. + +_Pars._ I'll tell ye, because if you spy but a Hen or a Chicken in a +Body's House, I should be sure to hear of it to-Morrow in the Pulpit. +This is the Gratitude you shew for your being entertain'd. + +_Con._ We are not all such Blabs. + +_Pars._ Well, be what you will, I'd scarce put Confidence in St. +_Peter_ himself, if he came to me in such a Habit. + +_Con._ If that be your Resolution, at least tell us where is an Inn. + +_Pars._ There's a publick Inn here in the Town. + +_Con._ What Sign has it? + +_Pars._ Upon a Board that hangs up, you will see a Dog thrusting his +Head into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; and +a Wolf sits at the Bar. + +_Con._ That's an unlucky Sign. + +_Pars._ You may e'en make your best on't. + +_Ber._ What Sort of a Pastor is this? we might be starv'd for him. + +_Con._ If he feeds his Sheep no better than he feeds us, they must needs +be very lean. + +_Ber._ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall we +do? + +_Con._ We must set a good Face on't. + +_Ber._ There's little to be gotten by Modesty, in a Case of Necessity. + +_Con._ Very right, St. _Francis_ will be with us. + +_Ber._ Let's try our Fortune then. + +_Con._ We won't stay for our Host's Answer at the Door, but we'll rush +directly into the Stove, and we won't easily be gotten out again. + +_Ber._ O impudent Trick! + +_Con._ This is better than to lie abroad all Night, and be frozen to +Death. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and take +it out again to-Morrow. + +_Ber._ Indeed, the Matter requires it. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Animals do I see here? + +_Con._ We are the Servants of God, and the Sons of St. _Francis_, good +Man. + +_Innk._ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but I +would not have many of them in my House. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but you +have neither Hands nor Feet to work. Ha, ha! You Sons of St. _Francis_, +you use to tell us in the Pulpit, that he was a pure Batchelor, and has +he got so many Sons? + +_Con._ We are the Children of the Spirit, not of the Flesh. + +_Innk._ A very unhappy Father, for your Mind is the worst Part about +you; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it is +better with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives and +Daughters. + +_Con._ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degenerate +from the Institutions of our Founder; we are strict Observers of them. + +_Innk._ And I'll observe you too, that you don't do me any Damage, for I +have a mortal Aversion for this Sort of Cattle. + +_Con._ Why so, I pray? + +_Innk._ Because you carry Teeth in your Head, but no Money in your +Pocket; and such Sort of Guests are very unwelcome to me. + +_Con._ But we take Pains for you. + +_Innk._ Shall I shew you after what Manner you labour for me? + +_Con._ Do, shew us. + +_Innk._ Look upon that Picture there, just by you, on your left Hand, +there you'll see a Wolf a Preaching, and behind him a Goose, thrusting +her Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one at +Confession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. There +you see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in one +Hand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse. + +_Con._ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathed +with this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses, +Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garment +covers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makes +no Body worse. It is unjust to judge of a Man by his Cloaths; for if so, +the Garment that you wear sometimes were to be accounted detestable, +because it covers many Thieves, Murderers, Conjurers, and Whoremasters. + +_Innk._ Well, I'll dispense with your Habit, if you'll but pay your +Reckonings. + +_Con._ We'll pray to God for you. + +_Innk._ And I'll pray to God for you, and there's one for t'other. + +_Con._ But there are some Persons that you must not take Money of. + +_Innk._ How comes it that you make a Conscience of touching any? + +_Con._ Because it does not consist with our Profession. + +_Innk._ Nor does it stand with my Profession to entertain Guests for +nothing. + +_Con._ But we are tied up by a Rule not to touch Money. + +_Innk._ And my Rule commands me quite the contrary. + +_Con._ What Rule is yours? + +_Innk._ Read those Verses: + + _Guests at this Table, when you've eat while you're able. + Rise not hence before you have first paid your Score._ + +_Con._ We'll be no Charge to you. + +_Innk._ But they that are no Charge to me are no Profit to me neither. + +_Con._ If you do us any good Office here, God will make it up to you +sufficiently. + +_Innk._ But these Words won't keep my Family. + +_Con._ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't be +troublesome to any Body. + +_Innk._ My Stove won't hold such Company. + +_Con._ What, will you thrust us out of Doors then? It may be we shall be +devour'd by Wolves to Night. + +_Innk._ Neither Wolves nor Dogs will prey upon their own Kind. + +_Con._ If you do so you will be more cruel than the _Turks_. Let us be +what we will, we are Men. + +_Innk._ I have lost my Hearing. + +_Con._ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the +Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if +the Wolves should not devour us? + +_Innk._ _Adam_ liv'd so in Paradise. + +_Con._ He did so, but then he was innocent. + +_Innk._ And so am I innocent. + +_Con._ Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you +thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into +his. + +_Innk._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Wife._ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by +this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good +Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't. + +_Innk._ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the +Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman; +Good Men! + +_Wife._ Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often +you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At +least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't +thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when +you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and +Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors? + +_Innk._ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind +your Kitchen. + +_Wife._ Well, so I will. + +_Bert._ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope all +will be well by and by. + +_Con._ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that no +Guests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had. + +_Bert._ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine from +the last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for what +I see here, he would not have given us so much as a Mouthful of Hay. + +_Con._ Now the Servants are set down, let's take Part of the Table with +them, but so that we don't incommode any Body. + +_Innk._ I believe I may put it to your Score, that I have not a Guest to +Day, nor any besides my own Family, and you good-for-nothing ones. + +_Con._ Well, put it up to our Score, if it has not happened to you +often. + +_Innk._ Oftner than I would have it so. + +_Con._ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake his +Servants. + +_Innk._ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospel +forbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have great +Sleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, and +Flesh also, and that of the best Sort. + +_Con._ Take Part with us, if you please. + +_Innk._ My Wine is Hog-Wash to it. + +_Con._ Eat some of the Flesh, there is more than enough for us. + +_Innk._ O happy Beggars! My Wife has dress'd nothing to Day, but +Coleworts and a little rusty Bacon. + +_Con._ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us what +we eat. + +_Innk._ Then why don't you carry with you Coleworts and dead Wine? + +_Con._ Because the People where we din'd to Day would needs force this +upon us. + +_Innk._ Did your Dinner cost you nothing? + +_Con._ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us these +Things to carry along with us. + +_Innk._ From whence did you come? + +_Con._ From _Basil._ + +_Innk._ Whoo! what so far? + +_Con._ Yes. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Fellows are you that ramble about thus without +Horses, Money, Servants, Arms, or Provisions? + +_Con._ You see in us some Footsteps of the evangelical Life. + +_Innk._ It seems to me to be the Life of Vagabonds, that stroll about +with Budgets. + +_Con._ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesus +himself. + +_Innk._ Can you tell Fortunes? + +_Con._ Nothing less. + +_Innk._ How do you live then? + +_Con._ By him, who hath promised. + +_Innk._ Who is he? + +_Con._ He that said, _Take no Care, but all Things shall be added unto +you_. + +_Innk._ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom of +God._ + +_Con._ That we do with all our Might. + +_Innk._ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, so +that it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no such +Thing. + +_Con._ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matter +requir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for the +Conviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but a +religious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick than +to be well, and more happy to die than to live. + +_Innk._ What do you do then? + +_Con._ That we can; every Man according to the Talent that God has given +him. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunity +offers, sometimes we preach, if we any where find Pastors that are dumb: +And if we find no Opportunity of doing Good, we take Care to do no Body +any Harm, either by our Manners or our Words. + +_Innk._ I wish you would preach for us to Morrow, for it is a Holy-Day. + +_Con._ For what Saint? + +_Innk._ To St. _Antony._ + +_Con._ He was indeed a good Man. But how came he to have a Holiday? + +_Innk._ I'll tell you. This Town abounds with Swine-Herds, by Reason of +a large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People have +an Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and therefore +they worship him, for Fear he should grow angry, if they neglect him. + +_Con._ I wish they would worship him as they ought to do. + +_Innk._ How's that? + +_Con._ Whosoever imitates the Saints in their Lives, worships as he +ought to do. + +_Innk._ To-morrow the Town will ring again with Drinking and Dancing, +Playing, Scolding and Boxing. + +_Con._ After this Manner the Heathens once worshipped their _Bacchus_. +But I wonder, if this is their Way of worshipping, that St. _Antony_ is +not enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogs +themselves. What Sort of a Pastor have you? A dumb one, or a wicked one? + +_Innk._ What he is to other People, I don't know: But he's a very good +one to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings more +Customers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not here +now. + +_Con._ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for our +Turn. + +_Innk._ What! Did you go to him then? + +_Con._ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us away +from the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither. + +_Innk._ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come because +he knew you were to be here. + +_Con._ Is he a dumb one? + +_Innk._ A dumb one! There's no Body is more noisy in the Stove, and he +makes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Need +of more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that he +is none of the dumb Ones. + +_Con._ Is he a learned Divine? + +_Innk._ He says he is a very great Scholar; but what he knows is what +he has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful to +let others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you in +short; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears its +own Cover_. + +_Con._ It may be he will not give a Man Liberty to preach in his Place. + +_Innk._ Yes, I'll undertake he will, but upon this Condition, that you +don't have any Flirts at him, as it is a common Practice for you to do. + +_Con._ They have us'd themselves to an ill Custom that do so. If a +Pastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is the +Bishop's Business. + +_Innk._ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Men +yourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? For +a great many People take you to be ill Men by your Dress. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ I can't tell, except it be that they find a great many of you to +be so. + +_Con._ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear this +Habit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to be +good Men by our Habit, than they that take us for base Men. + +_Innk._ Well, so let it be. But what is the Advantage of so many +different Dresses? + +_Con._ What is your Opinion? + +_Innk._ Why I see no Advantage at all, except in Processions, or War. +For in Processions there are carried about various Representations of +Saints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by the +different Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that every +one may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that there +may be no Confusion in the Army. + +_Con._ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us follows +one Leader, and another another; but we all fight under one General, +Christ. But in a Garment there are three Things to be consider'd. + +_Innk._ What are they? + +_Con._ Necessity, Use, and Decency. Why do we eat? + +_Innk._ That we mayn't be starv'd with Hunger. + +_Con._ And for the very same Reason we take a Garment that we mayn't be +starv'd with Cold. + +_Innk._ I confess it. + +_Con._ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers the +Head, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Use +requires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a long +one for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one in +Winter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Times +a Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon they +take a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; but +every one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment of +ours is contriv'd so, that this one will serve for various Uses. + +_Innk._ How is that? + +_Con._ If the North Wind blow, or the Sun shines hot, we put on our +Cowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are to +sit still, we let down our Garment about our Heels, if we are to walk, +we hold or tuck it up. + +_Innk._ He was no Fool, whosoever he was, that contriv'd it. + +_Con._ And it is the chief Thing in living happily, for a Man to +accustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we begin +to indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be no +End; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer so +many Purposes. + +_Innk._ I allow that. + +_Con._ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, if +you should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that you +acted indecently? + +_Innk._ They would say I was mad. + +_Con._ And what would you say, if she should put on your Cloaths? + +_Innk._ I should not say much perhaps, but I should cudgel her +handsomly. + +_Con._ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any one +wears? + +_Innk._ O yes, in this Case it is very material. + +_Con._ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict a +Punishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of a +different Sex. + +_Innk._ And they are in the Right for it. + +_Con._ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dress +himself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like an +old Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if an +old Woman should attire herself like a young Girl, and the contrary? + +_Innk._ No doubt. + +_Con._ In like Manner, if a Lay-Man should wear a Priest's Habit, and a +Priest a Lay-Man's. + +_Innk._ They would both act unbecomingly. + +_Con._ What if a private Man should put on the Habit of a Prince, or an +inferior Clergy-Man that of a Bishop? Would he act unhandsomely or no? + +_Innk._ Certainly he would. + +_Con._ What if a Citizen should dress himself like a Soldier, with a +Feather in his Cap, and other Accoutrements of a hectoring Soldier? + +_Innk._ He would be laugh'd at. + +_Con._ What if any _English_ Ensign should carry a white Cross in his +Colours, a _Swiss_ a red one, a _French_ Man a black one? + +_Innk._ He would act impudently. + +_Con._ Why then do you wonder so much at our Habit? + +_Innk._ I know the Difference between a private Man and a Prince, +between a Man and a Woman; but I don't understand the Difference between +a Monk and no Monk. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a poor Man and a rich Man? + +_Innk._ Fortune. + +_Con._ And yet it would be unbecoming a poor Man to imitate a rich Man +in his Dress. + +_Innk._ Very true, as rich Men go now a-Days. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a Fool and a wise Man? + +_Innk._ Something more than there is between a rich Man and a poor Man. + +_Con._ Are not Fools dress'd up in a different Manner from wise Men? + +_Innk._ I can't tell how well it becomes you, but your Habit does not +differ much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells. + +_Con._ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, if +we really are what we pretend to be. + +_Innk._ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are a +great many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than those +that wear Caps lin'd with Furs, Hoods, and other Ensigns of wise Men; +therefore it seems a ridiculous Thing to me to make a Shew of Wisdom by +the Dress rather than in Fact. I saw a certain Man, more than a Fool, +with a Gown hanging down to his Heels, a Cap like our Doctors, and had +the Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew of +Gravity, and he was as much made on by great Men, as any of their Fools, +and was more a Fool than any of them. + +_Con._ Well, what would you infer from that? That a Prince who laughs at +his Jester should change Coats with him? + +_Innk._ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Proposition +be true, that the Mind of a Man is represented by his Habit. + +_Con._ You press this upon me indeed, but I am still of the Opinion, +that there is good Reason for giving Fools distinct Habits. + +_Innk._ What Reason? + +_Con._ That no Body might hurt them, if they say or do any Thing that's +foolish. + +_Innk._ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does rather +provoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Fools +they become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores a +Man, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and a +Fool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under the +Protection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you are +distinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause is +sufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear a +different Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, an +Apothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if you +are Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? If +you are Laymen, why do you differ from us? + +_Con._ In antient Times, Monks were only the purer Sort of the Laity, +and there was then only the same Difference between a Monk and a Layman, +as between a frugal, honest Man, that maintains his Family by his +Industry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwards +the Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gave +some Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, or +sacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not been +ashamed to wear it. + +_Innk._ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that? + +_Con._ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimes +from Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think it +ridiculous for a Man to wear a Bull's Hide, with the Horns on his Head, +and the Tail trailing after him on the Ground? + +_Innk._ That would be ridiculous enough. + +_Con._ Again, if any one should wear a Garment that should hide his +Face, and his Hands, and shew his privy Members? + +_Innk._ That would be more ridiculous than the other. + +_Con._ The very Pagan Writers have taken Notice of them that have wore +Cloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wear +such. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, than +to wear a transparent Garment. + +_Innk._ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends upon +Custom and the Opinion of People. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at my +House, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries lately +discovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they came +to an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as the +greatest Indecency in the World, to cover their Bodies. + +_Con._ It may be they liv'd like Beasts. + +_Innk._ Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd +under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not +above an Hour in a Day. + +_Con._ What Work did they do? + +_Innk._ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead +of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when +this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind +to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish +Vices, but none more severely than Adultery. + +_Con._ What's the Punishment? + +_Innk._ They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But for +Men that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all his +Life after, he should appear in publick with his privy Parts covered. + +_Con._ A mighty Punishment indeed! + +_Innk._ Custom has made it to them the very greatest Punishment that is. + +_Con._ When I consider the Force of Persuasion, I am almost ready to +allow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to the +greatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off a +Piece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf's +Skin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair of +Stockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of a +Net, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side of +his Beard, and leave the other hanging down, and curl one Part of it, +and to put him a Cap on his Head, cut and slash'd, with a huge Plume of +Feathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him more +ridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? And +yet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are well +enough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like the +Dress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous. + +_Innk._ Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much as +they can possibly. + +_Con._ But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers like +an _Indian_, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a mad +Man? + +_Innk._ Stark mad. + +_Con._ And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madness +still: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom will +bear it out; so it cannot be denied, but that there is a certain +_Decorum_ in Garments, which all wise Men always account a _Decorum_; +and that there is also an Unbecomingness in Garments, which will to wise +Men always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Woman +dragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to be +measured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are not +asham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thing +is Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has once +obtain'd. + +_Innk._ Well, we have had Talk enough about Custom: But tell me now, +whether you think it better for Monks to differ from others in Habit, or +not to differ? + +_Con._ I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not to +judge of any Man by his Habit, if it be but sober and decent. + +_Innk._ Why don't you cast away your Cowls then? + +_Con._ Why did not the Apostles presently eat of all Sorts of Meat? + +_Innk._ I can't tell. Do you tell me that. + +_Con._ Because an invincible Custom hinder'd it: For whatsoever is +deeply rooted in the Minds of Men, and has been confirm'd by long Use, +and is turn'd as it were into Nature, can never be remov'd on a sudden, +without endangering the publick Peace; but must be remov'd by Degrees, +as a Horse's Tail is pluck'd off by single Hairs. + +_Innk._ I could bear well enough with it, if the Monks had all but one +Habit: But who can bear so many different Habits? + +_Con._ Custom has brought in this Evil, which brings in every Thing. +_Benedict_ did not invent a new Habit, but the same that he wore himself +and his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman: +Neither did _Francis_ invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poor +Country-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it into +Superstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to the +Dress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now in +Fashion, than my Dress is from yours? + +_Innk._ We do see it. + +_Con._ Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques of +antient Times. + +_Innk._ Why then, has your Garment no Holiness in it? + +_Con._ None at all. + +_Innk._ There are some of you that make their Boasts that these Dresses +were divinely directed by the holy Virgin Mother. + +_Con._ These Stories are but meer Dreams. + +_Innk._ Some despair of being able to recover from a Fit of Sickness, +unless they be wrapp'd up in a Dominican's Habit: Nay, nor won't be +buried but in a Franciscan's Habit. + +_Con._ They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats or +Fools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know a +wicked Man as well in a Franciscan's Habit, as in a Soldier's Coat. + +_Innk._ There is not so much Variety in the Feathers of Birds of the +Air, as there is in your Habits. + +_Con._ What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But it +is a better Thing to out-do it. + +_Innk._ I wish you would out-do it in the Variety of your Beaks too. + +_Con._ But, come on. I will be an Advocate for Variety, if you will give +me Leave. Is not a _Spaniard_ dressed after one Fashion, an _Italian_ +after another, a _Frenchman_ after another, a _German_ after another, a +_Greek_ after another, a _Turk_ after another, and a _Sarazen_ after +another? + +_Innk._ Yes. + +_Con._ And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is there +in Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dress +of the _Venetian_ from the _Florentine_, and of both from the _Roman_, +and this only within _Italy_ alone? + +_Innk._ I believe it. + +_Con._ And from hence also came our Variety. _Dominic_ he took his Dress +from the honest Ploughmen in that Part of _Spain_ in which he liv'd; and +_Benedict_ from the Country-Fellows of that Part of _Italy_ in which he +liv'd; and _Francis_ from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and so +for the rest. + +_Innk._ So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless you +live holier. + +_Con._ Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we are +a greater Stumbling to the Simple. + +_Innk._ Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, nor +Habit, nor Rule, nor Profession? + +_Con._ Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfathers +what you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you want +a human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do you +want a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Consider +what you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and you +will find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professed +the Rule of _Francis_. + +_Innk._ Do you believe that any Inn-Keepers go to Heaven? + +_Con._ Why not? + +_Innk._ There are a great many Things said and done in this House, that +are not according to the Gospel. + +_Con._ What are they? + +_Innk._ One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and another +slanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselves +honest or not. + +_Con._ You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if you +cannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or draw +on these Wickednesses. + +_Innk._ Sometimes I don't deal very honestly as to my Wine. + +_Con._ Wherein? + +_Innk._ When I find my Guests grow a little too hot, I put more Water +into the Wine. + +_Con._ That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up with +unwholsome Ingredients. + +_Innk._ But tell me truly, how many Days have you been in this Journey? + +_Con._ Almost a Month. + +_Innk._ Who takes Care of you all the While? + +_Con._ Are not they taken Care enough of, that have a Wife, and +Children, and Parents, and Kindred? + +_Innk._ Oftentimes. + +_Con._ You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but one +Father, we have an hundred; you have but one House, we have an hundred; +you have but a few Children, we have an innumerable Company; you have +but a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number. + +_Innk._ How so? + +_Con._ Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than the +Kindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience the +Truth of what he has promised. + +_Innk._ In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if I +don't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do us +the Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen to +come this Way again, know that here's a Lodging for you. + +_Con._ But what if others should come? + +_Innk._ They shall be welcome, if they be but such as you. + +_Con._ I hope they will be better. + +_Innk._ But among so many bad ones, how shall I know which are good? + +_Con._ I'll tell you in a few Words, but in your Ear. + +_Innk._ Tell me. + +_Con._--------- + +_Innk._ I'll remember it, and do it. + + + + +_The ABBOT and LEARNED WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A certain Abbot paying a Visit to a Lady, finds her + reading_ Greek _and_ Latin _Authors. A Dispute arises, + whence Pleasantness of Life proceeds:_ viz. _Not from + external Enjoyments, but from the Study of Wisdom. An + ignorant Abbot will by no Means have his Monks to be + learned; nor has he himself so much as a single Book in + his Closet. Pious Women in old Times gave their Minds to + the Study of the Scriptures; but Monks that hate + Learning, and give themselves up to Luxury, Idleness, and + Hunting, are provok'd to apply themselves to other Kinds + of Studies, more becoming their Profession._ + + +ANTRONIUS, MAGDALIA. + +_Ant._ What Sort of Houshold-Stuff do I see? + +_Mag._ Is it not that which is neat? + +_Ant._ How neat it is, I can't tell, but I'm sure, it is not very +becoming, either a Maid or a Matron. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because here's Books lying about every where. + +_Mag._ What have you liv'd to this Age, and are both an Abbot and a +Courtier, and never saw any Books in a Lady's Apartment? + +_Ant._ Yes, I have seen Books, but they were _French_; but here I see +_Greek_ and _Latin_ ones. + +_Mag._ Why, are there no other Books but _French_ ones that teach +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ But it becomes Ladies to have something that is diverting, to +pass away their leisure Hours. + +_Mag._ Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly? + +_Ant._ You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantly +together: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is Ladies +Business. + +_Mag._ Ought not every one to live well? + +_Ant._ I am of Opinion, they ought so to do. + +_Mag._ Well, can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does not live a +good Life. + +_Ant._ Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does +live a good Life? + +_Mag._ Why then, do you approve of living illy, if it be but pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I am of the Opinion, that they live a good Life, that live a +pleasant Life. + +_Mag._ Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outward +Things, or from the Mind? + +_Ant._ From outward Things. + +_Mag._ O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me in +what you suppose a pleasant Life to consist? + +_Ant._ Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what you +please, in Wealth, and in Honours. + +_Mag._ But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should you +live pleasantly then? + +_Ant._ What is it that you call by the Name of Wisdom? + +_Mag._ This is Wisdom, to know that a Man is only happy by the Goods of +the Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happier +or better. + +_Ant._ If that be Wisdom, fare it well for me. + +_Mag._ Suppose now that I take more Pleasure in reading a good Author, +than you do in Hunting, Drinking, or Gaming; won't you think I live +pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I would not live that Sort of Life. + +_Mag._ I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is it +that ought to be most delighted in? + +_Ant._ I would not have my Monks mind Books much. + +_Mag._ But my Husband approves very well of it. But what Reason have +you, why you would not have your Monks bookish? + +_Ant._ Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out of +the Decrees and Decretals of _Peter_ and _Paul._ + +_Mag._ Why then do you command them the contrary to what _Peter_ and +_Paul_ did? + +_Ant._ I can't tell what they teach; but I can't endure a Monk that +answers again: Nor would I have any of my Monks wiser than I am myself. + +_Mag._ You might prevent that well enough, if you did but lay yourself +out, to get as much Wisdom as you can. + +_Ant._ I han't Leisure. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because I han't Time. + +_Mag._ What, not at Leisure to be wise? + +_Ant._ No. + +_Mag._ Pray what hinders you? + +_Ant._ Long Prayers, the Affairs of my Houshold, Hunting, looking after +my Horses, attending at Court. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you think these Things are better than Wisdom? + +_Ant._ Custom has made it so. + +_Mag._ Well, but now answer me this one Thing: Suppose God should grant +you this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sort +of Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, and +yourself into a Horse? + +_Ant._ No, by no Means. + +_Mag._ By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser than +yourself? + +_Ant._ It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, if +I am but a Man myself. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither has +Wisdom, nor desires to have it? + +_Ant._ I am wise enough for myself. + +_Mag._ And so are Hogs wise enough for themselves. + +_Ant._ You seem to be a Sophistress, you argue so smartly. + +_Mag._ I won't tell you what you seem to me to be. But why does this +Houshold-Stuff displease you? + +_Ant._ Because a Spinning-Wheel is a Woman's Weapon. + +_Mag._ Is it not a Woman's Business to mind the Affairs of her Family, +and to instruct her Children? + +_Ant._ Yes, it is. + +_Mag._ And do you think so weighty an Office can be executed without +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ I believe not. + +_Mag._ This Wisdom I learn from Books. + +_Ant._ I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will not +see one Book in my Chamber. + +_Mag._ The Monks are finely look'd after all this While. + +_Ant._ I could dispense with Books; but I can't bear _Latin_ Books. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because that Tongue is not fit for a Woman. + +_Mag._ I want to know the Reason. + +_Ant._ Because it contributes nothing towards the Defence of their +Chastity. + +_Mag._ Why then do _French_ Books that are stuff'd with the most +trifling Novels, contribute to Chastity? + +_Ant._ But there is another Reason. + +_Mag._ Let it be what it will, tell me it plainly. + +_Ant._ They are more secure from the Priests, if they don't understand +_Latin_. + +_Mag._ Nay, there's the least Danger from that Quarter according to your +Way of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know any +Thing of _Latin_. + +_Ant._ The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rare +unusual Thing for a Woman to understand _Latin._ + +_Mag._ What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worst +Examples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do with +Custom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought to +accustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which was +uncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant would +become pleasant; and that which seemed unbecoming would look graceful. + +_Ant._ I hear you. + +_Mag._ Is it becoming a _German_ Woman to learn to speak _French_. + +_Ant._ Yes it is. + +_Mag._ Why is it? + +_Ant._ Because then she will be able to converse with those that speak +_French_. + +_Mag._ And why then is it unbecoming in me to learn _Latin_, that I may +be able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned and +wise Authors, and faithful Counsellors? + +_Ant._ Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough of +themselves. + +_Mag._ What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as for +myself, let me have never so little, I had rather spend them in Study, +than in Prayers mumbled over without the Heart going along with them, or +sitting whole Nights in quaffing off Bumpers. + +_Ant._ Bookishness makes Folks mad. + +_Mag._ And does not the Rattle of your Pot-Companions, your Banterers, +and Drolls, make you mad? + +_Ant._ No, they pass the Time away. + +_Mag._ How can it be then, that such pleasant Companions should make me +mad? + +_Ant._ That's the common Saying. + +_Mag._ But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do we +see grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up all +Night tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has made +People mad? + +_Ant._ By my Faith, I would not have a learned Wife. + +_Mag._ But I bless myself, that I have gotten a Husband that is not +like yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him. + +_Ant._ Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all we +must die. + +_Mag._ Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, had +you rather die a Fool or a wise Man? + +_Ant._ Why, a wise Man, if I could come at it without taking Pains. + +_Mag._ But there is nothing to be attained in this Life without Pains; +and yet, let us get what we will, and what Pains soever we are at to +attain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much to +be at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of which +will bear us Company unto another Life. + +_Ant._ I have often heard it said, that a wise Woman is twice a Fool. + +_Mag._ That indeed has been often said; but it was by Fools. A Woman +that is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, one +that knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twice +a Fool. + +_Ant._ I can't well tell how it is, that as Panniers don't become an Ox, +so neither does Learning become a Woman. + +_Mag._ But, I suppose, you can't deny but Panniers will look better upon +an Ox, than a Mitre upon an Ass or a Sow. What think you of the Virgin +_Mary_? + +_Ant._ Very highly. + +_Mag._ Was not she bookish? + +_Ant._ Yes; but not as to such Books as these. + +_Mag._ What Books did she read? + +_Ant._ The canonical Hours. + +_Mag._ For the Use of whom? + +_Ant._ Of the Order of _Benedictines_. + +_Mag._ Indeed? What did _Paula_ and _Eustochium_ do? Did not they +converse with the holy Scriptures? + +_Ant._ Ay, but this is a rare Thing now. + +_Mag._ So was a blockheaded Abbot in old Time; but now nothing is more +common. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learning +as for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity as +you think it. There are both in _Spain_ and _Italy_ not a few Women, +that are able to vye with the Men, and there are the _Morites_ in +_England_, and the _Bilibald-duks_ and _Blaureticks_ in _Germany_. So +that unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, that +we shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in the +Churches, and take Possession of your Mitres. + +_Ant._ God forbid. + +_Mag._ Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as you +have begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure you +a Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, and +you must either lay aside your Dress, or perform your Part. + +_Ant._ How came I to fall into this Woman's Company? If you'll come to +see me, I'll treat you more pleasantly. + +_Mag._ After what Manner? + +_Ant._ Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, and +laugh. + +_Mag._ I can hardly forbear laughing now. + + + + +_The EPITHALAMIUM of PETRUS ÆGIDIUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Muses and Graces are brought in, as singing the + Epithalamium of_ Peter Ægidius. Alipius _spies the nine + Muses, and the three Graces coming out of a Grove, which_ + Balbinus _can't see: They take their Way to_ Antwerp, _to + the Wedding of_ Ægidius, _to whom they wish all joy, that + nothing of Difference or Uneasiness may ever arise + between 'em. How those Marriages prove that are made, the + Graces not favouring 'em. Congratulatory Verses._ + + +ALIPIUS, BALBINUS, MUSÆ. + +_Al._ Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here? + +_Ba._ Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which +is to be seen. + +_Al._ Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight. + +_Ba._ Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it. + +_Al._ Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill. + +_Ba._ I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else. + +_Al._ No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there? + +_Ba._ What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a +bit of a Maid any where. + +_Al._ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How +neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight. + +_Ba._ What! Are you possess'd? + +_Al._ Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three +Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em +more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of +'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of +Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How +becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing +and trailing after 'em. + +_Ba._ I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days, +than you do. + +_Al._ You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time. + +_Ba._ Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't? + +_Al._ Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body +can see 'em but they that have. + +_Ba._ I have drank plentifully out of _Scotus's_ Fountain. + +_Al._ But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs. + +_Ba._ But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as +you? + +_Al._ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear +Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable +of such Sights as these. + +_Ba._ Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too. + +_Al._ Is there? That's clever, I vow. + +_Ba._ But prithee, sprinkle me with it. + +_Al._ Now look, do you see now? + +_Ba._ As much as I did before. Sprinkle me again. + +_Al._ Well, now do you see? + +_Ba._ Just as much; sprinkle me plentifully. + +_Al._ I believe you can't but see now. + +_Ba._ Now I can scarce see you. + +_Al._ Ah poor Man, how total a Darkness has seized your Eyes! This Art +would open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plague +yourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest you +should come off as ill by seeing the Muses, as _Actæon_ did by seeing +_Diana_: For you'd perhaps be in Danger of being turn'd either into a +Hedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. But +however, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make a +Noise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, most +welcome Goddesses. + +_Mu._ And you heartily, Lover of the Muses. + +_Al._ What makes you pull me so? + +_Ba._ You an't as good as your Word. + +_Al._ Why don't you hear 'em? + +_Ba._ I hear somewhat, but I don't know what it is. + +_Al._ Well, I'll speak _Latin_ to 'em then. Whither are you going so +fine and so brisk? Are you going to _Louvain_ to see the University? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we won't go thither. + +_Al._ Why not? + +_Mu._ What Place is for us, where so many Hogs are grunting, Camels and +Asses braying, Jackdaws cawing, and Magpies chattering? + +_Al._ But for all that, there are some there that are your Admirers. + +_Mu._ We know that, and therefore we'll go thither a few Years hence. +The successive Period of Ages has not yet brought on that Time; for +there will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or a +Temple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred any +where else. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour to +our Country? + +_Mu._ You may know it, that are one of our Priests. There's no doubt, +but you have heard the Name of the _Buslidians_, famous all the World +over. + +_Al._ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palaces +of the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere the +great _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, who +has approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Son +of _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be a +greater Man than his Father? + +_Mu._ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth the +Happiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberal +Studies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left two +brothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_. + +_Al._ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'd +with all Manner of Literature, and adorn'd with every Kind of Virtue. + +_Mu._ But the Destinies won't suffer him to be long-liv'd neither, +though no Man in the World better deserves to be immortaliz'd. + +_Al._ How do you know that? + +_Mu._ We had it from _Apollo_. + +_Al._ How envious are the Destinies, to take from us all desirable +Things so hastily! + +_Mu._ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dying +with great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of a +College at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teach +publickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring a +great Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'll +reside at _Louvain_, with all our Hearts. + +_Al._ But whither are you going now? + +_Mu._ To _Antwerp_. + +_Al._ What, the Muses and Graces going to a Fair? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we are not going to a Fair; but to a Wedding. + +_Al._ What have Virgins to do at Weddings? + +_Mu._ 'Tis no indecent Thing at all, for Virgins to be at such a Wedding +as this is. + +_Al._ Pray what Sort of a Marriage is it? + +_Mu._ A holy, undefiled, and chaste Marriage, such a one as _Pallas_ +herself need not be asham'd to be at: Nay, more than that, we believe +she will be at it. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know the Bride and Bridegroom's Name? + +_Mu._ We believe you must needs know that most courteous and +accomplish'd Youth in all Kinds of polite Learning, _Peter Ægidius_. + +_Al._ You have named an Angel, not a Man. + +_Mu._ The pretty Maid _Cornelia_, a fit Match for _Apollo_ himself, is +going to be married to _Ægidius_. + +_Al._ Indeed he has been a great Admirer of you, even from his Infancy. + +_Mu._ We are going to sing him an Epithalamium. + +_Al._ What, and will the Graces dance too? + +_Mu._ They will not only dance, but they will also unite those two true +Lovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that no +Difference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall never +hear any Thing from him, but my Life; nor he from her, but my Soul: Nay: +and even old Age itself, shall be so far from diminishing that, that it +shall increase the Pleasure. + +_Al._ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could ever +be able to grow old. + +_Mu._ You say very right, for it is rather a Maturity, than an old Age. + +_Al._ But I have known a great many, to whom these kind Words have been +chang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; and +instead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flown +about. The Husband, instead of my dear Soul, has been call'd Blockhead, +Toss-Pot, Swill-Tub; and the Wife, Sow, Fool, dirty Drab. + +_Mu._ You say very true; but these Marriages were made when the Graces +were out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper will +always maintain a mutual Affection. + +_Al._ Indeed you speak of such a happy Marriage as is very seldom seen. + +_Mu._ An uncommon Felicity is due to such uncommon Virtues. + +_Al._ But what! Will the Matrimony be without _Juno_ and _Venus_? + +_Mu._ Indeed _Juno_ won't be there, she's a scolding Goddess, and is but +seldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthly +drunken _Venus_; but another heavenly one, which makes a Union of Minds. + +_Al._ Then the Marriage you speak of, is like to be a barren one. + +_Mu._ No, by no Means, but rather like to be the most happily fruitful. + +_Al._ What, does that heavenly _Venus_ produce any Thing but Souls then? + +_Mu._ Yes, she gives Bodies to the Souls; but such Bodies, as shall be +exactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choice +Ointment into a curious Box of Pearl. + +_Al._ Where is she then? + +_Mu._ Look, she is coming towards you, a pretty Way off. + +_Al._ Oh! I see her now. O good God, how bright she is! How majestical +and beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is a +homely one. + +_Mu._ Do you see what modest _Cupids_ there are; they are no blind ones, +such as that _Venus_ has, that makes Mankind mad? But these are sharp +little Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentle +Fires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate the +Lover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocal +Affection. + +_Al._ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's a +blessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hear +the Marriage-Song that you design to present 'em with? + +_Mu._ Nay, we were just a-going to ask you to hear it. + +CLIO. +Peter _hath married fair_ Cornelia, _Propitious Heaven! bless +the Wedding-Day._ + +MELPOMENE. +_Concord of_ Turtle-Doves _between them be, And of the_ +Jack-daw _the Vivacity_. + +THALIA. +_From_ Gracchus _may he win the Prize, And for_ Cornelia's +_Life, his own despise._ + +EUTERPE. +_May she in Love exceed_ Admetus' _Wife, Who laid her own +down, for her Husband's Life._ + +TERPSICHORE. +_May he love her with stronger Flame, But much more +happy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'd +Mate._ + +ERATO. +_May she love him with no less Flame, But with much better +Fate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate._ + +CALLIOPE. +_For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to the +famous_ Nasica. + +URANIA. +_The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be._ + +POLYHYMNIA. +_May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equal +their Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on them +wait._ + + +_Al._ I should very much envy _Peter Ægidius_ so much Happiness, but +that he is a Man of such Candour, that he himself envies no Body. + +_Mu._ It is now high Time for us to prosecute our Journey. + +_Al._ Have you any Service to command me at _Louvain_? + +_Mu._ That thou wouldst recommend us to all our sincere loving Friends; +but especially to our antient Admirers. _John Paludus, Jodocus Gaverius, +Martin Dorpius_, and _John Borsalus._ + +_Al._ Well, I'll be sure to take Care to do your Message. What shall I +say to the rest? + +_Mu._ I'll tell you in your Ear. + +_Al._ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainly +be done out of Hand. + + + + +_The EXORCISM or APPARITION._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy detects the Artifices of Impostors, who + impose upon the credulous and simple, framing Stories of + Apparitions of Daemons and Ghosts, and divine Voices._ + Polus _is the Author of a Rumour, that an Apparition of a + certain Soul was heard in his Grounds, howling after a + lamentable Manner: At another Place he pretends to see a + Dragon in the Air, in the middle of the Day, and + persuades other Persons that they saw it too; and he + prevails upon_ Faunus, _a Parish-Priest of a neighbouring + Town, to make Trial of the Truth of the Matters, who + consents to do it, and prepares Exorcisms._ Polus _gets + upon a black Horse, throws Fire about, and with divers + Tricks deceives credulous_ Faunus, _and other Men of none + of the deepest Penetration._ + + +THOMAS _and_ ANSELM. + +_Tho._ What good News have you had, that you laugh to yourself thus, as +if you had found a Treasure? + +_Ans._ Nay, you are not far from the Matter. + +_Tho._ But won't you impart it to your Companion, what good Thing soever +it is? + +_Ans._ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebody +to communicate my Merriment to. + +_Tho._ Come on then, let's have it. + +_Ans._ I was just now told the pleasantest Story, which you'd swear was +a Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, as +well as you know me. + +_Tho._ I'm with Child to hear it. + +_Ans._ Do you know _Polus, Faunus_'s Son-in-Law? + +_Tho._ Perfectly well. + +_Ans._ He's both the Contriver and Actor of this Play. + +_Tho._ I am apt enough to believe that; for he can Act any Part to the +Life. + +_Ans._ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not far +from _London_. + +_Tho._ Phoo, very well; he and I have drank together many a Time there. + +_Ans._ Then you know there is a Way between two straight Rows of Trees. + +_Tho._ Upon the left Hand, about two Flight Shot from the House? + +_Ans._ You have it. On one Side of the Way there is a dry Ditch, +overgrown with Thorns and Brambles; and then there's a Way that leads +into an open Field from a little Bridge. + +_Tho._ I remember it. + +_Ans._ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, of +a Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that were +every now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul of +somebody that was miserably tormented. + +_Tho._ Who was it that raised this Report? + +_Ans._ Who but _Polus_, that made this the Prologue to his Comedy. + +_Tho._ What did he mean by inventing such a Flam? + +_Ans._ I know nothing; but that it is the Humour of the Man, he takes +Delight to make himself Sport, by playing upon the Simplicity of People, +by such Fictions as these. I'll tell you what he did lately of the same +Kind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of the +Company were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was a +wonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there. +_Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breast +with the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to an +Air of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! They +that rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell again +to signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, says +he, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring to +know what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointing +with his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, that +monstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in a +Circle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, every +now and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he might +not seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation of +him, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they could +not see what was so plain to be seen: And in short, in three Days Time, +the Rumour of this portentous Apparition had spread all over _England_. +And it is wonderful to think how popular Fame had amplified the Story, +and some pretended seriously to expound to what this Portent did +predict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mighty +Pleasure in the Folly of these People. + +_Tho._ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of the +Apparition. + +_Ans._ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in +_Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they add +the same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, this +Man thought himself wiser than is common, especially in holy Matters) +came very opportunely to pay a Visit to _Polus_. + +_Tho._ I understand the Matter: There is one found out to be an Actor in +this Play. + +_Ans._ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of this +Apparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heard +of the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as he +was a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poor +Soul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in any +Doubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walk +near that Bridge about ten a-Clock, and you shall hear miserable Cries; +take who you will for a Companion along with you, and so you will hear +both more safely and better. + +_Tho._ Well, what then? + +_Ans._ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Hunting +or Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away all +Opportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walks +about, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himself +in a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, by +speaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow of +it, gave it a most mournful Sound. + +_Tho._ This Story, as far as I see, out-does _Menander's Phasma_. + +_Ans._ You'll say more, if you shall hear it out. _Faunus_ goes Home, +being impatient to tell what he had heard. _Polus_ taking a shorter Way, +had got Home before him. _Faunus_ up and tells _Polus_ all that past, +and added something of his own to it, to make the Matter more wonderful. + +_Tho._ Could _Polus_ keep his Countenance in the mean Time? + +_Ans._ He keep his Countenance! He has his Countenance in his Hand, you +would have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End +_Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes the +Business of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, in +contriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, for +he was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the most +powerful Exorcisms that he could get, and added some new ones to them, +as the Bowels of the Virgin _Mary_, and the Bones of St. _Winifred_. +After that, he makes Choice of a Place in the plain Field, near the +Bramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very large +Circle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. And +all this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there a +great Vessel full of holy Water, and about his Neck he had a holy Stole +(as they call'd it) upon which hung the Beginning of the Gospel of +_John_. He had in his Pocket a little Piece of Wax, which the Bishop of +_Rome_ used to consecrate once a Year, which is commonly call'd _Agnus +Dei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselves +against evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to be +so formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be an +evil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for all +this, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined to +take some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid, +that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, the +whole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priest +there-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; and +indeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was a +Man fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being prepared +and in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priest +enter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made a +miserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and +_Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings from +thence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a great +many of them. + +_Tho._ Well, what do they do? + +_Ans._ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Fire +along with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew the +Fire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle. + +_Tho._ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat upon +People? + +_Ans._ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have been +mischievous to them. + +_Tho._ How so? + +_Ans._ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of the +Fire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End of +the first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered into +Discourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter, +enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-dæmons +appear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, and +breathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break into +the Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by the +Power and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into +_Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with great +Solemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with the +Vehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at a +pretty Distance, with their black Horses, with a most outragious Noise, +making a Feint, as if they would break into the Circle. + +_Tho._ Had they no Fire then? + +_Ans._ No, none at all; for that had lik'd to have fallen out very +unluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope over +the Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though they +were beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both the +Priest and holy Water-Pot all together. + +_Tho._ This Reward the Parish-Priest had for playing his Part? + +_Ans._ Yes, he had; and for all that, he had rather suffer this than +quit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over the +Matter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what great +Danger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evil +Spirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firm +Persuasion, that there was no Dæmon, let him be ever so mischievous or +impudent, that could possibly break into this Circle. + +_Tho._ This _Faunus_ was not far from being a Fool. + +_Ans._ You have heard nothing yet. The Comedy being thus far advanc'd, +_Polus_'s Son-in-Law comes in very good Time, for he had married +_Polus's_ eldest Daughter; he's a wonderful merry Droll, you know. + +_Tho._ Know him! Ay, I know him, that he has no Aversion for such Tricks +as these. + +_Ans._ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgent +Affair in the World, if such a Comedy were either to be seen or acted. +His Father-in-Law tells him the whole Story, and gives him his Part, +that was, to act the Ghost. He puts on a Dress, and wraps himself up in +a Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through his +Shrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Place +where this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_ +lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way off +in the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a rueful +Groaning. While _Faunus_ was adjuring the Ghost to declare who he was, +_Polus_ of a sudden leaps out of the Thicket, dress'd like a Devil, and +making a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, it +is mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, as +if he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if he +was beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holy +Water, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when this +guardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with the +Soul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that he +was the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered +_Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then they +being Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ might +deliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a long +Discourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it was +not permitted to stay to talk any longer, because its Time was come, +that it must go whither its Devil pleased to carry it; but yet promised +to come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. They +meet together again at _Polus's_ House, who was the Master of the Show. +There the Exorcist relates what was done, and tho' he added some Lies to +the Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartily +affected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, that +it was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Torments +of an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. There +happened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism. + +_Tho._ Prithee what was that? + +_Ans._ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted the +Devil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do, +break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with his +Exorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last cries +out, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with a +Wench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, it +seemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched with +this Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, and +whispered something in the Priest's Ear. _Polus_ seeing that, retires, +that he might not hear what it was not fit for him to hear. + +_Tho._ In Truth, _Polus_ was a very modest, religious Devil. + +_Ans._ He was so, otherwise he might have been blamed for not observing +a _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing him +Satisfaction. + +_Tho._ What was that? + +_Ans._ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, by +which he conjectured he had had to do with her three Times that Night. + +_Tho._ He was an irregular _Regular_. + +_Ans._ They are but Men, and this is but human Frailty. + +_Tho._ Well, proceed: what was done after this? + +_Ans._ Now _Faunus_ more couragiously advances to the very Edge of the +Circle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil's +Heart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if I +had been wise I had not given you that Caution: Many are of Opinion, +that what you have once confess'd is immediately struck out of the +Devil's Memory, that he can never be able to twit you in the Teeth for +it. + +_Tho._ What a ridiculous Conceit do you tell me of? + +_Ans._ But to draw towards a Conclusion of the Matter: This Dialogue +with the Ghost held for some Days; at last it came to this Issue: The +Exorcist asking the Soul, If there was any Way by which it might +possibly be delivered from its Torments, it answered, it might, if the +Money that it had left behind, being gotten by Cheating, should be +restored. Then, says _Faunus_, What if it were put into the Hands of +good People, to be disposed of to pious Uses? The Spirit reply'd, That +might do. The Exorcist was rejoic'd at this; he enquires particularly, +What Sum there was of it? The Spirit reply'd, That it was a vast Sum, +and might prove very good and commodious: it told the Place too where +the Treasure was hid, but it was a long Way off: And it order'd what +Uses it should be put to. + +_Tho._ What were they? + +_Ans._ That three Persons were to undertake a Pilgrimage; one to the +Threshold of St. _Peter_; another to salute St. _James_ at +_Compostella;_ and the third should kiss _Jesus'_s Comb at _Tryers_; and +after that, a vast Number of Services and Masses should be performed in +several great Monasteries; and as to the Overplus, he should dispose of +it as he pleas'd. Now _Faunus'_s Mind was fixed upon the Treasure; he +had, in a Manner, swallowed it in his Mind. + +_Tho._ That's a common Disease; but more peculiarly thrown in the +Priests Dish, upon all Occasions. + +_Ans._ After nothing had been omitted that related to the Affair of the +Money, the Exorcist being put upon it by _Polus_, began to put Questions +to the Spirit, about several Arts, as Alchymy and Magick. To these +Things the Spirit gave Answers, putting off the Resolution of these +Questions for the present, promising it would make larger Discoveries as +soon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches of +its Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be the +third Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in good +Earnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in all +Companies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things to +Monasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to the +Place, and finds the Tokens, but did not dare to dig for the Treasure, +because the Spirit had thrown this Caution in the Way, that it would be +extremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had been +performed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt out +the Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiming +his Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, and +especially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of a +prudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quite +contrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd his +Mind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, to +make him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres and +Devils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was so +pale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Sprite +than a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and would +have been so, had it not been timely prevented. + +_Tho._ Well, let this be the last Act of the Play. + +_Ans._ Well, you shall have it. _Polus_ and his Son-in-Law, hammer'd out +this Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in a +strange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such as +Gold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Form +of the Epistle was this: + +Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his gracious +Deliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _that +thou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God has +respected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, has +delivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels. +Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next to +the Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give thee +publick Thanks. In the mean Time, see that thou live merrily._ + + _From the_ Imperial Heaven, _the + Ides of_ September, _Anno_ 1498. + _Under the Seal of my own Ring._ + +This Epistle was laid privately under the Altar where _Faunus_ was to +perform divine Service: This being done, there was one appointed to +advertise him of it, as if he had found it by Chance. And now he carries +the Letter about him, and shews it as a very sacred Thing; and believes +nothing more firmly, than that it was brought from Heaven by an Angel. + +_Tho._ This is not delivering the Man from his Madness, but changing the +Sort of it. + +_Ans._ Why truly, so it is, only he is now more pleasantly mad than +before. + +_Tho._ I never was wont to give much Credit to Stories of Apparitions in +common; but for the Time to come, I shall give much less: For I believe +that many Things that have been printed and published, as true +Relations, were only by Artifice and Imposture, Impositions upon +credulous Persons, and such as _Faunus._ + +_Ans._ And I also believe that a great many of them are of the same +Kind. + + + + +_The ALCHYMIST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the Dotage of an old Man, otherwise + a very prudent Person, upon this Art; being trick'd by a + Priest, under Pretence of a two-Fold Method in this Art, + the_ long Way _and the_ short Way. _By the long Way he + puts an egregious Cheat upon old_ Balbinus: _The + Alchymist lays the Fault upon his Coals and Glasses. + Presents of Gold are sent to the Virgin_ Mary, _that she + would assist them in their Undertakings. Some Courtiers + having come to the Knowledge that_ Balbinus _practis'd + this unlawful Art, are brib'd. At last the Alchymist is + discharg'd, having Money given him to bear his Charges._ + + +PHILECOUS, LALUS. + +_Phi._ What News is here, that _Lalus_ laughs to himself so that he e'en +giggles again, every now and then signing himself with the Sign of the +Cross? I'll interrupt his Felicity. God bless you heartily, my very good +Friend _Lalus_; you seem to me to be very happy. + +_La._ But I shall be much happier, if I make you a Partaker of my merry +Conceitedness. + +_Phi._ Prithee, then, make me happy as soon as you can. + +_La._ Do you know _Balbinus_? + +_Phi._ What, that learned old Gentleman that has such a very good +Character in the World? + +_La._ It is as you say; but no Man is wise at all Times, or is without +his blind Side. This Man, among his many good Qualifications, has some +Foibles: He has been a long Time bewitch'd with the Art call'd +_Alchymy_. + +_Phi._ Believe me, that you call only Foible, is a dangerous Disease. + +_La._ However that is, notwithstanding he had been so often bitten by +this Sort of People, yet he has lately suffer'd himself to be impos'd +upon again. + +_Phi._ In what Manner? + +_La._ A certain Priest went to him, saluted him with great Respect, and +accosted him in this Manner: Most learned _Balbinus_, perhaps you will +wonder that I, being a Stranger to you, should thus interrupt you, who, +I know, are always earnestly engag'd in the most sacred Studies. +_Balbinus_ gave him a Nod, as was his Custom; for he is wonderfully +sparing of his Words. + +_Phi._ That's an Argument of Prudence. + +_La._ But the other, as the wiser of the two, proceeds. You will forgive +this my Importunity, when you shall know the Cause of my coming to you. +Tell me then, says _Balbinus_, but in as few Words as you can. I will, +says he, as briefly as I am able. You know, most learned of Men, that +the Fates of Mortals are various; and I can't tell among which I should +class myself, whether among the happy or the miserable; for when I +contemplate my Fate on one Part, I account myself most happy, but if on +the other Part, I am one of the most miserable. _Balbinus_ pressing him +to contract his Speech into a narrow Compass; I will have done +immediately, most learned _Balbinus_, says he, and it will be the more +easy for me to do it, to a Man who understands the whole Affair so well, +that no Man understands it better. + +_Phi._ You are rather drawing an Orator than an Alchymist. + +_La._ You shall hear the Alchymist by and by. This Happiness, says he, I +have had from a Child, to have learn'd that most desirable Art, I mean +Alchymy, the very Marrow of universal Philosophy. At the very Mention of +the Name Alchymy, _Balbinus_ rais'd himself a little, that is to say, +in Gesture only, and fetching a deep Sigh, bid him go forward. Then he +proceeds: But miserable Man that I am, said he, by not falling into the +right Way! _Balbinus_ asking him what Ways those were he spoke of; Good +Sir, says he, you know (for what is there, most learned Sir, that you +are ignorant of?) that there are two Ways in this Art, one which is +_call'd the Longation, and the other which is call'd the Curtation_. But +by my bad Fate, I have fallen upon _Longation. Balbinus_ asking him, +what was the Difference of the Ways; it would be impudent in me, says +he, to mention this to a Man, to whom all Things are so well known, that +Nobody knows them better; therefore I humbly address myself to you, that +you would take Pity on me, and vouchsafe to communicate to me that most +happy Way of _Curtation_. And by how much the better you understand this +Art, by so much the less Labour you will be able to impart it to me: Do +not conceal so great a Gift from your poor Brother that is ready to die +with Grief. And as you assist me in this, so may _Jesus Christ_ ever +enrich you with more sublime Endowments. He thus making no End of his +Solemnity of Obtestations, _Balbinus_ was oblig'd to confess, that he +was entirely ignorant of what he meant by _Longation_ and _Curtation_, +and bids him explain the Meaning of those Words. Then he began; Altho' +Sir, says he, I know I speak to a Person that is better skill'd than +myself, yet since you command me I will do it: Those that have spent +their whole Life in this divine Art, change the Species of Things two +Ways, the one is shorter, but more hazardous, the other is longer, but +safer. I account myself very unhappy, that I have laboured in that Way +that does not suit my Genius, nor could I yet find out any Body who +would shew me the other Way that I am so passionately desirous of; but +at last God has put it into my Mind to apply myself to you, a Man of as +much Piety as Learning; your Learning qualifies you to answer my Request +with Ease, and your Piety will dispose you to help a Christian Brother, +whose Life is in your Hands. To make the Matter short, when this crafty +Fellow, with such Expressions as these, had clear'd himself from all +Suspicion of a Design, and had gain'd Credit, that he understood one Way +perfectly well, _Balbinus_'s Mind began to have an Itch to be meddling. +And at last, when he could hold no longer, Away with your Methods, says +he, of _Curtation_, the Name of which I never heard before, I am so far +from understanding it. Tell me sincerely, Do you throughly understand +Longation? Phoo! says he, perfectly well; but I don't love the +Tediousness of it. Then _Balbinus_ asked him, how much Time it wou'd +take up. Too much, says he; almost a whole Year; but in the mean Time it +is the safest Way. Never trouble yourself about that, says _Balbinus_, +although it should take up two Years, if you can but depend upon your +Art. To shorten the Story: They came to an Agreement, that the Business +should be set on foot privately in _Balbinus_'s, House, upon this +Condition, that he should find Art, and _Balbinus_ Money; and the Profit +should be divided between them, although the Imposter modestly offered +that _Balbinus_ should have the whole Gain. They both took an Oath of +Secrecy, after the Manner of those that are initiated into mysterious +Secrets; and presently Money is paid down for the Artist to buy Pots, +Glasses, Coals, and other Necessaries for furnishing the Laboratory: +This Money our Alchymist lavishes away on Whores, Gaming, and Drinking. + +_Phi._ This is one Way, however, of changing the Species of Things. + +_La. Balbinus_ pressing him to fall upon the Business; he replies, Don't +you very well know, that _what's well begun is half done?_ It is a great +Matter to have the Materials well prepar'd. At last he begins to set up +the Furnace; and here there was Occasion for more Gold, as a Bait to +catch more: For as a Fish is not caught without a Bait, so Alchymists +must cast Gold in, before they can fetch Gold out. In the mean Time, +_Balbinus_ was busy in his Accounts; for he reckoned thus, if one Ounce +made fifteen, what would be the Product of two thousand; for that was +the Sum that he determined to spend. When the Alchymist had spent this +Money and two Months Time, pretending to be wonderfully busy about the +Bellows and the Coals, Balbinus enquired of him, whether the Business +went forward? At first he made no Answer; but at last he urging the +Question, he made him Answer, As all great Works do; the greatest +Difficulty of which is, in entring upon them: He pretended he had made a +Mistake in buying the Coals, for he had bought Oaken ones, when they +should have been Beechen or Fir ones. There was a hundred Crowns gone; +and he did not spare to go to Gaming again briskly. Upon giving him new +Cash, he gets new Coals, and then the Business is begun again with more +Resolution than before; just as Soldiers do, when they have happened to +meet with a Disaster, they repair it by Bravery. When the Laboratory had +been kept hot for some Months, and the golden Fruit was expected, and +there was not a Grain of Gold in the Vessel (for the Chymist had spent +all that too) another Pretence was found out, That the Glasses they +used, were not rightly tempered: For, as every Block will not make a +Mercury, so Gold will not be made in any Kind of Glass. And by how much +more Money had been spent, by so much the lother he was to give it over. + +_Phi._ Just as it is with Gamesters, as if it were not better to lose +some than all. + +_La._ Very true. The Chymist swore he was never so cheated since he was +born before; but now having found out his Mistake, he could proceed with +all the Security in the World, and fetch up that Loss with great +Interest. The Glasses being changed, the Laboratory is furnished the +third Time: Then the Operator told him, the Operation would go on more +successfully, if he sent a Present of Crowns to the Virgin Mary, that +you know is worshipped at _Paris_; for it was an holy Act: And in Order +to have it carried on successfully, it needed the Favour of the Saints. +_Balbinus_ liked this Advice wonderfully well, being a very pious Man +that never let a Day pass, but he performed some Act of Devotion or +other. The Operator undertakes the religious Pilgrimage; but spends this +devoted Money in a Bawdy-House in the next Town: Then he goes back, and +tells _Balbinus_ that he had great Hope that all would succeed according +to their Mind, the Virgin _Mary_ seem'd so to favour their Endeavours. +When he had laboured a long Time, and not one Crumb of Gold appearing, +_Balbinus_ reasoning the Matter with him, he answered, that nothing like +this had ever happened all his Days to him, tho' he had so many Times +had Experience of his Method; nor could he so much as imagine what +should be the Reason of this Failing. After they had beat their Brains a +long Time about the Matter, _Balbinus_ bethought himself, whether he had +any Day miss'd going to Chapel, or saying the _Horary Prayers_, for +nothing would succeed, if these were omitted. Says the Imposter you have +hit it. Wretch that I am, I have been guilty of that once or twice by +Forgetfulness, and lately rising from Table, after a long Dinner, I had +forgot to say the Salutation of the Virgin. Why then, says _Balbinus_, +it is no Wonder, that a Thing of this Moment succeeds no better. The +Trickster undertakes to perform twelve Services for two that he had +omitted, and to repay ten Salutations for that one. When Money every now +and then fail'd this extravagant Operator, and he could not find out any +Pretence to ask for more, he at last bethought himself of this Project. +He comes Home like one frighted out of his Wits, and in a very mournful +Tone cries out, O _Balbinus_ I am utterly undone, undone; I am in Danger +of my Life. _Balbinus_ was astonished, and was impatient to know what +was the Matter. The Court, says he, have gotten an Inkling of what we +have been about, and I expect nothing else but to be carried to Gaol +immediately. _Balbinus_, at the hearing of this, turn'd pale as Ashes; +for you know it is capital with us, for any Man to practice _Alchymy_ +without a License from the Prince: He goes on: Not, says he, that I am +afraid of Death myself, I wish that were the worst that would happen, I +fear something more cruel. _Balbinus_ asking him what that was, he +reply'd, I shall be carried away into some Castle, and there be forc'd +to work all my Days, for those I have no Mind to serve. Is there any +Death so bad as such a Life? The Matter was then debated, _Balbinus_ +being a Man that very well understood the Art of Rhetorick, casts his +Thoughts every Way, if this Mischief could be prevented any Way. Can't +you deny the Crime, says he? By no Means, says the other; the Matter is +known among the Courtiers, and they have such Proof of it that it can't +be evaded, and there is no defending of the Fact; for the Law is +point-blank against it. Many Things having been propos'd, but coming to +no conclusion, that seem'd feasible; says the Alchymist, who wanted +present Money, O _Balbinus_ we apply ourselves to slow Counsels, when +the Matter requires a present Remedy. It will not be long before they +will be here that will apprehend me, and carry me away into Tribulation. +And last of all, seeing _Balbinus_ at a Stand, says the Alchymist, I am +as much at a Loss as you, nor do I see any Way left, but to die like a +Man, unless you shall approve what I am going to propose, which is more +profitable than honourable; but Necessity is a hard Chapter. You know +these Sort of Men are hungry after Money, and so may be the more easily +brib'd to Secrecy. Although it is a hard Case to give these Rascals +Money to throw away; but yet, as the Case now stands, I see no better +Way. _Balbinus_ was of the same Opinion, and he lays down thirty Guineas +to bribe them to hush up the Matter. + +_Phi. Balbinus_ was wonderful liberal, as you tell the Story. + +_La._ Nay, in an honest Cause, you would sooner have gotten his Teeth +out of his Head than Money. Well, then the Alchymist was provided for, +who was in no Danger, but that of wanting Money for his Wench. + +_Phi._ I admire _Balbinus_ could not smoak the Roguery all this While. + +_La._ This is the only Thing that he's soft in, he's as sharp as a +Needle in any Thing else. Now the Furnace is set to work again with new +Money; but first, a short Prayer is made to the Virgin Mary to prosper +their Undertakings. By this Time there had been a whole Year spent, +first one Obstacle being pretended, and then another, so that all the +Expence and Labour was lost. In the mean Time there fell out one most +ridiculous Chance. + +_Phi._ What was that? + +_La._ The Alchymist had a criminal Correspondence with a certain +Courtier's Lady: The Husband beginning to be jealous, watch'd him +narrowly, and in the Conclusion, having Intelligence that the Priest was +in the Bed-Chamber, he comes Home before he was look'd for, knocks at +the Door. + +_Phi._ What did he design to do to him? + +_La._ What! Why nothing very good, either kill him or geld him. When the +Husband being very pressing to come, threatned he would break open the +Door, if his Wife did not open it, they were in bodily Fear within, and +cast about for some present Resolution; and Circumstances admitting no +better, he pull'd off his Coat, and threw himself out of a narrow +Window, but not without both Danger and Mischief, and so got away. Such +Stories as these you know are soon spread, and it came to _Balbinus_'s +Ear, and the Chymist guess'd it would be so. + +_Phi._ There was no getting off of this Business. + +_La._ Yes, he got off better here, than he did out at the Window. Hear +the Man's Invention: _Balbinus_ said not a Word to him about the Matter, +but it might be read in his Countenance, that he was no Stranger to the +Talk of the Town. The Chymist knew _Balbinus_ to be a Man of Piety, and +in some Points, I was going to say, superstitious, and such Persons are +very ready to forgive one that falls under his Crime, let it be never so +great; therefore, he on Purpose begins a Talk about the Success of their +Business, complaining, that it had not succeeded as it us'd to do, and +as he would have it; and he-wondered greatly, what should be the Reason +of it: Upon this Discourse, _Balbinus_, who seemed otherwise to have +been bent upon Silence, taking an Occasion, was a little moved: It is +no hard Matter, says he, to guess what the Obstacle is. Sins are the +Obstacles that hinder our Success, for pure Works should be done by pure +Persons. At this Word, the Projector fell down on his Knees, and beating +his Breast with a very mournful Tone, and dejected Countenance, says, O +_Balbinus_, what you have said is very true, it is Sin, it is Sin that +has been the Hinderance; but my Sins, not yours; for I am not asham'd to +confess my Uncleanness before you, as I would before my most holy Father +Confessor: The Frailty of my Flesh overcame me, and Satan drew me into +his Snares; and O miserable Wretch that I am! Of a Priest, I am become +an Adulterer; and yet, the Offering that you sent to the Virgin Mother, +is not wholly lost neither, for I had perish'd inevitably, if she had +not helped me; for the Husband broke open the Door upon me, and the +Window was too little for me to get out at; and in this Pinch of Danger, +I bethought myself of the blessed Virgin, and I fell upon my Knees, and +besought her, that if the Gift was acceptable to her, she would assist +me, and in a Minute I went to the Window, (for Necessity forced me so to +do) and found it large enough for me to get out at. + +_Phi._ Well, and did _Balbinus_ believe all this? + +_La._ Believe it, yes, and pardon'd him too, and admonish'd him very +religiously, not to be ungrateful to the blessed Virgin: Nay, there was +more Money laid down, upon his giving his Promise, that he would for the +future carry on the Process with Purity. + +_Phi._ Well, what was the End of all this? + +_La._ The Story is very long; but I'll cut it short. When he had play'd +upon _Balbinus_ long enough with these Inventions, and wheedled him out +of a considerable Sum of Money, a certain Gentleman happen'd to come +there, that had known the Knave from a Child: He easily imagining that +he was acting the same Part with _Balbinus_, that he had been acting +every where, admonishes _Balbinus_ privately, and acquainted him what +Sort of a Fellow he harbour'd, advising him to get rid of him as soon +as possible, unless he had a Mind to have him sometime or other, to +rifle his Coffers, and then run away. + +_Phi._ Well, what did _Balbinus_ do then? Sure, he took Care to have him +sent to Gaol? + +_La._ To Gaol? Nay, he gave him Money to bear his Charges, and conjur'd +him by all that was sacred, not to speak a Word of what had happened +between them. And in my Opinion, it was his Wisdom so to do, rather than +to be the common Laughing-stock, and Table-Talk, and run the Risk of the +Confiscation of his Goods besides; for the Imposter was in no Danger; he +knew no more of the Matter than an Ass, and cheating is a small Fault in +these Sort of Cattle. If he had charg'd him with Theft, his Ordination +would have say'd him from the Gallows, and no Body would have been at +the Charge of maintaining such a Fellow in Prison. + +_Phi._ I should pity _Balbinus_; but that he took Pleasure in being +gull'd. + +_La._ I must now make haste to the Hall; at another Time I'll tell you +Stories more ridiculous than this. + +_Phi._ When you shall be at Leisure, I shall be glad to hear them, and +I'll give you Story for Story. + + + + +_The HORSE-CHEAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Horse-Cheat _lays open the cheating Tricks of those + that sell or let out Horses to hire; and shews how those + Cheats themselves are sometimes cheated._ + + +AULUS, PHÆDRUS. + +Good God! What a grave Countenance our _Phaedrus_ has put on, gaping +ever and anon into the Air. I'll attack him. _Phaedrus_, what News to +Day? + +_Ph._ Why do you ask me that Question, _Aulus_? + +_Aul._ Because, of a _Phaedrus_, you seem to have become a _Cato_, there +is so much Sourness in your Countenance. + +_Ph._ That's no Wonder, my Friend, I am just come from Confession. + +_Aul._ Nay, then my Wonder's over; but tell me upon your honest Word, +did you confess all? + +_Ph._ All that I could remember, but one. + +_Aul._ And why did you reserve that one? + +_Ph._ Because I can't be out of Love with it. + +_Aul._ It must needs be some pleasant Sin. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether it is a Sin or no; but if you are at Leisure, +you shall hear what it is. + +_Aul._ I would be glad to hear it, with all my Heart. + +_Ph._ You know what cheating Tricks are play'd by our _Jockeys_, who +sell and let out Horses. + +_Aul._ Yes, I know more of them than I wish I did, having been cheated +by them more than once. + +_Ph._ I had Occasion lately to go a pretty long Journey, and I was in +great Haste; I went to one that you would have said was none of the +worst of 'em, and there was some small Matter of Friendship between us. +I told him I had an urgent Business to do, and had Occasion for a strong +able Gelding; desiring, that if he would ever be my Friend in any Thing, +he would be so now. He promised me, that he would use me as kindly as if +I were his own dear Brother. + +_Aul._ It may be he would have cheated his Brother. + +_Ph._ He leads me into the Stable, and bids me chuse which I would out +of them all. At last I pitch'd upon one that I lik'd better than the +rest. He commends my Judgment, protesting that a great many Persons had +had a Mind to that Horse; but he resolved to keep him rather for a +singular Friend, than sell him to a Stranger. I agreed with him as to +the Price, paid him down his Money, got upon the Horse's Back. Upon the +first setting out, my Steed falls a prancing; you would have said he was +a Horse of Mettle; he was plump, and in good Case: But, by that Time I +had rid him an Hour and a half, I perceiv'd he was downright tir'd, nor +could I by spurring him, get him any further. I had heard that such +Jades had been kept for Cheats, that you would take by their Looks to be +very good Horses; but were worth nothing for Service. I says to myself +presently, I am caught. But when I come Home again, I will shew him +Trick for Trick. + +_Aul._ But what did you do in this Case, being a Horseman without a +Horse? + +_Ph._ I did what I was oblig'd to do. I turn'd into the next Village, +and there I set my Horse up privately, with an Acquaintance, and hired +another, and prosecuted my Journey; and when I came back, I return'd my +hired Horse, and finding my own in very good Case, and thoroughly +rested, I mounted his Back, and rid back to the Horse-Courser, desiring +him to set him up for a few Days, till I called for him again. He ask'd +me how well he carry'd me; I swore by all that was good, that I never +bestrid a better Nag in my Life, that he flew rather than walk'd, nor +ever tir'd the least in the World in all so long a Journey, nor was a +Hair the leaner for it. I having made him believe that these Things were +true, he thought with himself, he had been mistaken in this Horse; and +therefore, before I went away, he ask'd me if I would sell the Horse. I +refus'd at first; because if I should have Occasion to go such another +Journey, I should not easily get the Fellow of him; but however, I +valued nothing so much, but I would sell it, if I could have a good +Price for it, altho' any Body had a Mind to buy myself. + +_Aul._ This was fighting a Man with his own Weapons. + +_Ph._ In short, he would not let me go away, before I had set a Price +upon him. I rated him at a great Deal more than he cost me. Being gone, +I got an Acquaintance to act for me, and gave him Instructions how to +behave himself: He goes to the House, and calls for the Horse-Courser, +telling him, that he had Occasion for a very good, and a very hardy Nag. +The Horse-Courser shews him a great many Horses, still commending the +worst most of all; but says not a Word of that Horse he had sold me, +verily believing he was such as I had represented him. My Friend +presently ask'd whether that was not to be sold; for I had given him a +Description of the Horse, and the Place where he stood. The +Horse-Courser at first made no Answer, but commended the rest very +highly. The Gentleman lik'd the other Horses pretty well; but always +treated about that very Horse: At last thinks the Horse-Courser with +himself, I have certainly been out in my Judgment as to this Horse, if +this Stranger could presently pick this Horse out of so many. He +insisting upon it, He may be sold, says he; but it may be, you'll be +frighted at the Price. The Price, says he, is a Case of no great +Importance, if the Goodness of the Thing be answerable: Tell me the +Price. He told him something more than I had set him at to him, getting +the Overplus to himself. At last the Price was agreed on, and a good +large Earnest was given, a Ducat of Gold to bind the Bargain. The +Purchaser gives the Hostler a Groat, orders him to give his Horse some +Corn, and he would come by and by, and fetch him. As soon as ever I +heard the Bargain was made so firmly, that it could not be undone again, +I go immediately, booted and spurr'd to the Horse-Courser, and being out +of Breath, calls for my Horse. He comes and asks what I wanted: Says I, +get my Horse ready presently, for I must be gone this Moment, upon an +extraordinary Affair: But, says he, you bid me keep the Horse a few +Days: That's true, said I, but this Business has happened unexpectedly, +and it is the King's Business, and it will admit of no Delay. Says he, +take your Choice, which you will of all my Horses; you cannot have your +own. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretended +to be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey has +happen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times his +Price. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grew +a little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: You +set a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you your +Money, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, and +you can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a good +While, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that bought +him: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought him +for fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valued +him at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make that +Profit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd in +my Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desires +me not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So I +bit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that he +that had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; but +no Body came, nor ever will come. + +_Aul._ But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter with +you? + +_Ph._ With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him over +and over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But I +often reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be so +serv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. This +was a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in my +Heart to confess it as a Fault. + +_Aul._ If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far from +confessing it as a Fault, that I should have requir'd a Statue for it. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether you speak as you think or no; but you set me +agog however, to be paying more of these Fellows in their own Coin. + + + + +_The BEGGARS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Beggars Dialogue paints out the cheating, crafty + Tricks of Beggars, who make a Shew of being full of + Sores, and make a Profession of Palmistry, and other Arts + by which they impose upon many Persons. Nothing is more + like Kingship, than the Life of a Beggar._ + + +IRIDES, MISOPONUS. + +_Ir._ What new Sort of Bird is this I see flying here? I know the Face, +but the Cloaths don't suit it. If I'm not quite mistaken, this is +_Misoponus_. I'll venture to speak to him, as ragged as I am. God save +you, _Misoponus_. + +_Mis._ Hold your Tongue, I say. + +_Ir._ What's the Matter, mayn't a Body salute you? + +_Mis._ Not by that Name. + +_Ir._ Why, what has happen'd to you? Are you not the same Man that you +was? What, have you changed your Name with your Cloaths? + +_Mis._ No, but I have taken up my old Name again. + +_Ir._ Who was you then? + +_Mis._ _Apitius_. + +_Ir._ Never be asham'd of your old Acquaintance, if any Thing of a +better Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd to +our Order. + +_Mis._ Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am not +asham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first of +myself. + +_Ir._ What Order do you mean? That of the _Franciscans_? + +_Mis._ No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of the +Spendthrifts. + +_Ir._ In Truth, you have a great many Companions of that Order. + +_Mis._ I had a good Fortune, I spent lavishly, and when I began to be in +Want, no Body knew _Apitius_. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself to +your College: I lik'd that better than digging. + +_Ir._ Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case of +late? For as to your Change of Cloaths, I don't so much wonder at that. + +_Mis._ Why so? + +_Ir._ Because the Goddess _Laverna_ makes many rich on a sudden. + +_Mis._ What! do you think I got an Estate by Thieving then? + +_Ir._ Nay, perhaps more idly, by Rapine. + +_Mis._ No, I swear by your Goddess _Penia_, neither by Thieving, nor by +Rapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, which +seems to you to be the most admirable. + +_Ir._ For when you were with us, you were all over full of Sores. + +_Mis._ But I have since made Use of a very friendly Physician. + +_Ir._ Who? + +_Mis._ No other Person but myself, unless you think any Body is more +friendly to me, than I am to myself. + +_Ir._ But I never knew you understood Physick before. + +_Mis._ Why all that Dress was nothing but a Cheat I had daub'd on with +Paints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd in +Blood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again. + +_Ir._ O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. You +might have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy. + +_Mis._ My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt to +change the Skin too. + +_Ir._ Well then, tell me of your Fortune. Have you found a Treasure? + +_Mis._ No; but I have found out a Way of getting Money that's a little +better than yours. + +_Ir._ What could you get Money out of, that had no Stock? + +_Mis._ _An Artist will live any where._ + +_Ir._ I understand you now, you mean the Art of picking Pockets. + +_Mis._ Not so hard upon me, I pray; I mean the Art of Chymistry. + +_Ir._ Why 'tis scarce above a Fortnight, since you went away from us, +and have you in that Time learn'd an Art, that others can hardly learn +in many Years? + +_Mis._ But I have got a shorter Way. + +_Ir._ Prithee, what Way? + +_Mis._ When I had gotten almost four Guineas by your Art, I happened, as +good Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion of +mine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I had +done. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, to +tell of his Adventures. I made a Bargain with him to pay his Reckoning, +upon Condition that he should faithfully teach me his Art. He taught it +me very honestly, and now 'tis my Livelihood. + +_Ir._ Mayn't a Body learn it? + +_Mis._ I'll teach it you for nothing, for old Acquaintance Sake. You +know, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of this +Art. + +_Ir._ I have heard so, and I believe it is true. + +_Mis._ I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into their +Acquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungry +Sea-Cob, I throw him out a Bait. + +_Ir._ How do you do that? + +_Mis._ I caution him by all Means, not rashly to trust Men of that +Profession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their _hocus +pocus_ Tricks, pick the Pockets of those that are not cautious. + +_Ir._ That Prologue is not fit for your Business. + +_Mis._ Nay, I add this further, that I would not have them believe me +myself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and felt +it with their Hands. + +_Ir._ You speak of a wonderful Confidence you have in your Art. + +_Mis._ I bid them be present all the While the Metamorphosis is under +the Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may have +the less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their own +Hands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Finger +to it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it to +the Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Gold +it will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Mass +to several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find the +exact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold or +Silver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment in +Silver is the less chargeable to me. + +_Ir._ But has your Art no Cheat in it? + +_Mis._ It is a mere Cheat all over. + +_Ir._ I can't see where the Cheat lies. + +_Mis._ I'll make you see it presently. I first make a Bargain for my +Reward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thing +itself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business was +effected by the Virtue of that; but I never tell them how to make it, +except they purchase it at a very great Price. And I make them take an +Oath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Body +living. + +_Ir._ But I han't heard the Cheat yet. + +_Mis._ The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for this +Purpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to the +Quantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powder +is put in, I set the Pot in such a Manner, that it is cover'd all over, +above, beneath, and Sides, with Coals, and I persuade them, that the Art +consists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in one +that has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of the +Fire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin or +Brass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out. + +_Ir._ A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another does +it all with his own Hands? + +_Mis._ When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, before +the Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing has +been omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two at +the Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privately +lay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which I +can take, and no Body know any Thing of the Matter. + +_Ir._ But when they try to do this without you, and it does not succeed, +what Excuse have you to make? + +_Mis._ I'm safe enough when I have got my Money. I pretend one Thing or +other, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or the +Fire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mystery +of my Profession is, never to stay long in the same Place. + +_Ir._ And is there so much Profit in this Art as to maintain you? + +_Mis._ Yes, and nobly too: And I would have you, for the future, if you +are wise, leave off that wretched Trade of Begging, and follow ours. + +_Ir._ Nay, I should rather chuse to bring you back to our Trade. + +_Mis._ What, that I should voluntarily return again to that I have +escap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable? + +_Ir._ This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it grows +pleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen off +from the Order of St. _Francis_ or St. _Benedict_, did you ever know +any that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce taste +the Sweetness of Beggary in so few Months as you follow'd it. + +_Mis._ That little Taste I had of it taught me, that it was the most +wretched Life in Nature. + +_Ir._ Why does no Body quit it then? + +_Mis._ Perhaps, because they are naturally wretched. + +_Ir._ I would not change this Wretchedness, for the Fortune of a King. +For there is nothing more like a King, than the Life of a Beggar. + +_Mis._ What strange Story do I hear? Is nothing more like Snow than a +Coal? + +_Ir._ Wherein consists the greatest Happiness of Kings? + +_Mis._ Because in that they can do what they please. + +_Ir._ As for that Liberty, than which nothing is sweeter, we have more +of it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are many +Kings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, we +are not press'd for Soldiers, nor put upon Parish-Offices, nor taxed. +When the People are loaded with Taxes, there's no Scrutiny into our Way +of Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue a +Beggar? If we beat a Man, he will be asham'd to fight with a Beggar? +Kings can't live at Ease neither in War or in Peace, and the greater +they are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid to +offend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated to +God. + +_Mis._ But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels? + +_Ir._ What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak of +are out of a Man. We owe our Happiness to these Rags. + +_Mis._ But I am afraid a good Part of your Happiness will fail you in a +short Time. + +_Ir._ How so? + +_Mis._ Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be a +Law, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at their +Pleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they that +are able shall be made to work. + +_Ir._ What Reason have they for this? + +_Mis._ Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence of +Begging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publick +from your Order. + +_Ir._ Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bring +it about when the Devil's blind. + +_Mis._ Perhaps sooner than you'd have it. + + + + +_The FABULOUS FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The fabulous Feast contains various Stories and pleasant + Tales._ Maccus _puts a Trick upon a Shoe-maker. A + Fruiterer is put upon about her Figs. A very clever Cheat + of a Priest, in relation to Money._ Lewis _the Eleventh, + King of_ France, _eats some of a Country-Man's Turnips, + and gives him 1000 Crowns for an extraordinary large one + that he made a Present of to him. A certain Man takes a + Louse off of the King's Garment, and the King gives him + 40 Crowns for it. The Courtiers are trick'd. One asks for + an Office, or some publick Employment. To deny a Kindness + presently, is to bestow a Benefit._ Maximilian _was very + merciful to his Debtors. An old Priest Cheats an Usurer._ + Anthony _salutes one upon letting a Fart, saying the + Backside was the cleanest Part of the Body._ + + + POLYMYTHUS, GELASINUS, EUTRAPELUS, ASTÆUS, PHILYTHLUS, + PHILOGELOS, EUGLOTTUS, LEROCHARES, ADOLESCHES, LEVINUS. + +_Pol._ As it is unfitting for a well order'd City to be without Laws and +without a Governor; so neither ought a Feast to be without Orders and a +President. + +_Ge._ If I may speak for the rest, I like it very well. + +_Po._ Soho, Sirrah! bring hither the Dice, the Matter shall be +determin'd by their Votes; he shall be our President that _Jupiter_ +shall favour. O brave! _Eutrapelus_ has it, the fittest Man that could +be chosen, if we had every individual Man of us thrown. There is an +usual Proverb, that has more Truth in't than good Latin, _Novus Rex nova +Lex, New Lords new Laws_. Therefore, King, make thou Laws. + +_Eut._ That this may be a merry and happy Banquet, in the first Place I +command, that no Man tell a Story but what is a ridiculous one. He that +shall have no Story to tell, shall pay a Groat, to be spent in Wine; and +Stories invented extempore shall be allow'd as legitimate, provided +Regard be had to Probability and Decency. If no Body shall want a Story, +let those two that tell, the one the pleasantest, and the other the +dullest, pay for Wine. Let the Master of the Feast be at no Charge for +Wine, but only for the Provisions of the Feast. If any Difference about +this Matter shall happen, let _Gelasinus_ be Judge. If you agree to +these Conditions, let 'em be ratified. He that won't observe the Orders, +let him be gone, but with Liberty to come again to a Collation the next +Day. + +_Ge._ We give our Votes for the Passing the Bill our King has brought +in. But who must tell the first Story? + +_Eut._ Who should, but the Master of the Feast? + +_As._ But, Mr. King, may I have the liberty to speak three Words? + +_Eut._ What, do you take the Feast to be an unlucky one? + +_As._ The Lawyers deny that to be Law that is not just. + +_Eut._ I grant it. + +_As._ Your Law makes the best and worst Stories equal. + +_Eut._ Where Diversion is the Thing aim'd at, there he deserves as much +Commendation who tells the worst, as he that tells the best Story, +because it affords as much Merriment; as amongst Songsters none are +admir'd but they that sing very well, or they that sing very ill. Do not +more laugh to hear the Cuckoo than to hear the Nightingal? In this Case +Mediocrity is not Praise-worthy. + +_As._ But pray, why must they be punish'd, that carry off the Prize? + +_Eut._ Lest their too great Felicity should expose them to Envy, if they +should carry away the Prize, and go Shot-free too. + +_As._ By _Bacchus, Minos_ himself never made a juster Law. + +_Phily._ Do you make no Order as to the Method of Drinking? + +_Eut._ Having consider'd the Matter, I will follow the Example of +_Agesilaus_ King of the _Lacedæmonians_. + +_Phily._ What did he do? + +_Eut._ Upon a certain Time, he being by Lot chosen Master of the Feast, +when the Marshal of the Hall ask'd him, how much Wine he should set +before every Man; If, says he, you have a great Deal of Wine, let every +Man have as much as he calls for, but if you're scarce of Wine, give +every Man equally alike. + +_Phily._ What did the _Lacedæmonian_ mean by that? + +_Eut._ He did this, that it might neither be a drunken Feast, nor a +querulous one. + +_Phily._ Why so? + +_Eut._ Because some like to drink plentifully, and some sparingly, and +some drink no Wine at all; such an one _Romulus_ is said to have been. +For if no Body has any Wine but what he asks for, in the first Place no +Body is compell'd to drink, and there is no Want to them that love to +drink more plentifully. And so it comes to pass that no Body is +melancholy at the Table. And again, if of a less quantity of Wine every +one has an equal Portion, they that drink moderately have enough; nor +can any Body complain in an Equality, and they that would have drank +more largely, are contentedly temperate. + +_Eut._ If you like it, this is the Example I would imitate, for I would +have this Feast to be a fabulous, but not a drunken one. + +_Phily._ But what did _Romulus_ drink then? + +_Eut._ The same that Dogs drink. + +_Phily._ Was not that unbeseeming a King? + +_Eut._ No more than it is unseemly for a King to draw the same Air that +Dogs do, unless there is this Difference, that a King does not drink the +very same Water that a Dog drank, but a Dog draws in the very same Air +that the King breath'd out; and on the contrary, the King draws in the +very same Air that the Dog breath'd out. It would have been much more to +_Alexander_'s, Glory, if he had drank with the Dogs. For there is +nothing worse for a King, who has the Care of so many thousand Persons, +than Drunkenness. But the Apothegm that _Romulus_ very wittily made Use +of, shews plainly that he was no Wine-Drinker. For when a certain +Person, taking Notice of his abstaining from Wine, said to him, that +Wine would be very cheap, if all Men drank as he did; nay, says he, in +my Opinion it would be very dear, if all Men drank it as I drink; for I +drink as much as I please. + +_Ge._ I wish our _John Botzemus_, the Canon of _Constance_, was here; +he'd look like another _Romulus_ to us: For he is as abstemious, as he +is reported to have been; but nevertheless, he is a good-humoured, +facetious Companion. + +_Po._ But come on, if you can, I won't say _drink and blow_, which +_Plautus_ says is a hard Matter to do, but if you can eat and hear at +one and the same Time, which is a very easy Matter, I'll begin the +Exercise of telling Stories, and auspiciously. If the Story be not a +pleasant one, remember 'tis a _Dutch_ one. I suppose some of you have +heard of the Name of _Maccus_? + +_Ge._ Yes, he has not been dead long. + +_Po._ He coming once to the City of _Leiden_, and being a Stranger +there, had a Mind to make himself taken Notice of for an arch Trick (for +that was his Humour); he goes into a Shoemaker's Shop, and salutes him. +The Shoemaker, desirous to sell his Ware, asks him what he would buy: +_Maccus_ setting his Eyes upon a Pair of Boots that hung up there, the +Shoemaker ask'd him if he'd buy any Boots; _Maccus_ assenting to it, he +looks out a Pair that would fit him, and when he had found 'em brings +'em out very readily, and, as the usual Way is, draws 'em on. _Maccus_ +being very well fitted with a Pair of Boots, How well, says he, would a +Pair of double soal'd Shoes agree with these Boots? The Shoemaker asks +him, if he would have a Pair of Shoes too. He assents, a Pair is look'd +out presently and put on. _Maccus_ commends the Boots, commends the +Shoes. The Shoemaker glad in his Mind to hear him talk so, seconds him +as he commended 'em, hoping to get a better Price, since the Customer +lik'd his Goods so well. And by this Time they were grown a little +familiar; then says _Maccus_, Tell me upon your Word, whether it never +was your Hap, when you had fitted a Man with Boots and Shoes, as you +have me, to have him go away without paying for 'em? No, never in all my +Life, says he. But, says _Maccus_, if such a Thing should happen to you, +what would you do in the Case? Why, quoth the Shoemaker, I'd run after +him. Then says _Maccus_, but are you in Jest or in Earnest? In Earnest, +says the other, and I'd do it in Earnest too. Says _Maccus_, I'll try +whether you will or no. See I run for the Shoes, and you're to follow +me, and out he runs in a Minute; the Shoemaker follows him immediately +as fast as ever he could run, crying out, Stop Thief, stop Thief; this +Noise brings the People out of their Houses: _Maccus_ laughing, hinders +them from laying Hold of him by this Device, Don't stop me, says he, we +are running a Race for a Wager of a Pot of Ale; and so they all stood +still and look'd on, thinking the Shoemaker had craftily made that +Out-cry that he might have the Opportunity to get before him. At last +the Shoemaker, being tir'd with running, gives out, and goes sweating, +puffing and blowing Home again: So _Maccus_ got the Prize. + +_Ge._ _Maccus_ indeed escap'd the Shoemaker, but did not escape the +Thief. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Ge._ Because he carried the Thief along with him. + +_Po._ Perhaps he might not have Money at that Time, but paid for 'em +afterwards. + +_Ge._ He might have indicted him for a Robbery. + +_Po._ That was attempted afterwards, but now the Magistrates knew +_Maccus_. + +_Ge._ What did _Maccus_ say for himself? + +_Po._ Do you ask what he said for himself, in so good a Cause as this? +The Plaintiff was in more Danger than the Defendant. + +_Ge._ How so? + +_Po._ Because he arrested him in an Action of Defamation, and prosecuted +him upon the Statute of _Rheims_ which says, that he that charges a Man +with what he can't prove, shall suffer the Penalty, which the Defendant +was to suffer if he had been convicted. He deny'd that he had meddled +with another Man's Goods without his Leave, but that he put 'em upon +him, and that there was no Mention made of any Thing of a Price; but +that he challeng'd the Shoemaker to run for a Wager, and that he +accepted the Challenge, and that he had no Reason to complain because he +had out-run him. + +_Ge._ This Action was pretty much like that of the Shadow of the Ass. +Well, but what then? + +_Po._ When they had had laughing enough at the Matter, one of the Judges +invites _Maccus_ to Supper, and paid the Shoemaker his Money. Just such +another Thing happen'd at _Daventerv_, when I was a Boy. It was at a +Time when 'tis the Fishmonger's Fair, and the Butchers Time to be +starv'd. A certain Man stood at a Fruiterer's Stall, or Oporopolist's, +if you'd have it in _Greek_. The Woman was a very fat Woman, and he +star'd very hard upon the Ware she had to sell. She, according as the +Custom is, invites him to have what he had a Mind to; and perceiving he +set his Eyes upon some Figs, Would you please to have Figs, says she? +they are very fine ones. He gives her a Nod. She asks him how many +Pound, Would you have five Pound says she? He nods again; she turns him +five Pound into his Apron. While she is laying by her Scales, he walks +off, not in any great haste, but very gravely. When she comes out to +take her Money, her Chap was gone; she follows him, making more Noise +than Haste after him. He, taking no Notice, goes on; at last a great +many getting together at the Woman's Out-cry, he stands still, pleads +his Cause in the midst of the Multitude: there was very good Sport, he +denies that he bought any Figs of her, but that she gave 'em him freely; +if she had a Mind to have a Trial for it, he would put in an Appearance. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll tell you a Story not much unlike yours, nor perhaps not +much inferior to it, saving it has not so celebrated an Author as +_Maccus_. _Pythagoras_ divided the Market into three Sorts of Persons, +those that went thither to sell, those that went thither to buy; both +these Sorts were a careful Sort of People, and therefore unhappy: others +came to see what was there to be sold, and what was done; these only +were the happy People, because being free from Care, they took their +Pleasure freely. And this he said was the Manner that a Philosopher +convers'd in this World, as they do in a Market. But there is a fourth +Kind of Persons that walk about in our Markets, who neither buy nor +sell, nor are idle Spectators of what others do, but lie upon the Catch +to steal what they can. And of this last Sort there are some that are +wonderful dextrous. You would swear they were born under a lucky Planet. +Our Entertainer gave us a Tale with an Epilogue, I'll give you one with +a Prologue to it. Now you shall hear what happen'd lately at _Antwerp_. +An old Priest had receiv'd there a pretty handsome Sum of Money, but it +was in Silver. A Sharper has his Eye upon him; he goes to the Priest, +who had put his Money in a large Bag in his Cassock, where it boug'd +out; he salutes him very civilly, and tells him that he had Orders to +buy a Surplice, which is the chief Vestment us'd in performing Divine +Service, for the Priest of his Parish; he intreats him to lend him a +little Assistance in this Matter, and to go with him to those that sell +such Attire, that he might fit one according to his Size, because he was +much about the same Stature with the Parson of his Parish. This being +but a small Kindness, the old Priest promises to do it very readily. +They go to a certain Shop, a Surplice is shew'd 'em, the old Priest +puts it on, the Seller says, it fits him as exactly as if made for him; +the Sharper viewing the old Priest before and behind, likes the Surplice +very well, but only found Fault that it was too short before. The +Seller, lest he should lose his Customer, says, that was not the Fault +of the Surplice, but that the Bag of Money that stuck out, made it look +shorter there. To be short, the old Priest lays his Bag down; then they +view it over again, and while the old Priest stands with his Back +towards it, the Sharper catches it up, and runs away as fast as he +could: The Priest runs after him in the Surplice as he was, and the +Shop-Keeper after the Priest; the old Priest cries out, Stop Thief; the +Salesman cries out, Stop the Priest; the Sharper cries out, Stop the mad +Priest; and they took him to be mad, when they saw him run in the open +Street in such a Dress: so one hindring the other, the Sharper gets +clear off. + +_Eut._ Hanging is too good for such a Rogue. + +_Ge._ It is so, if he be not hang'd already. + +_Eut._ I would not have him hang'd only, but all those that encourage +such monstrous Rogues to the Damage of the State. + +_Ge._ They don't encourage 'em for nothing; there's a fellow Feeling +between 'em from the lowest to the highest. + +_Eut._ Well, but let us return to our Stories again. + +_Ast._ It comes to your Turn now, if it be meet to oblige a King to keep +his Turn. + +_Eut._ I won't need to be forc'd to keep my Turn, I'll keep it +voluntarily; I should be a Tyrant and not a King, if I refus'd to comply +with those Laws I prescribe to others. + +_Ast._ But some Folks say, that a Prince is above the Law. + +_Eut._ That saying is not altogether false, if by Prince you mean that +great Prince who was call'd _Cæsar_; and then, if by being above the +Law, you mean, that whereas others do in some Measure keep the Laws by +Constraint, he of his own Inclination more exactly observes them. For a +good Prince is that to the Body Politick, which the Mind is to the Body +Natural. What Need was there to have said a good Prince, when a bad +Prince is no Prince? As an unclean Spirit that possesses the human Body, +is not the Soul of that Body. But to return to my Story; and I think +that as I am King, it becomes me to tell a kingly Story. _Lewis_ King of +_France_ the Eleventh of that Name, when his Affairs were disturb'd at +Home, took a Journey to _Burgundy_; and there upon the Occasion of a +Hunting, contracted a Familiarity with one _Conon_, a Country Farmer, +but a plain downright honest Man; and Kings delight in the Conversation +of such Men. The King, when he went a hunting, us'd often to go to his +House; and as great Princes do sometimes delight themselves with mean +Matters, he us'd to be mightily pleas'd in eating of his Turnips. Not +long after, _Lewis_ having settled his Affairs, obtain'd the Government +of the _French_ Nation; _Conon_'s Wife puts him upon remembring the King +of his old Entertainment at their House, bids him go to him, and make +him a Present of some rare Turnips. _Conon_ at first would not hear of +it, saying he should lose his Labour, for that Princes took no Notice of +such small Matters; but his Wife over-persuaded him. _Conon_ picks out a +Parcel of choice Turnips, and gets ready for his Journey; but growing +hungry by the Way, eats 'em all up but one very large one. When _Conon_ +had got Admission into the Hall that the King was to pass thro', the +King knew him presently, and sent for him; and he with a great Deal of +Chearfulness offers his Present, and the King with as much Readiness of +Mind receives it, commanding one that stood near him to lay it up very +carefully among his greatest Rarities. He commands _Conon_ to dine with +him, and after Dinner thanks him; and _Conon_ being desirous to go back +into his own Country, the King orders him 1000 Crowns for his Turnip. +When the Report of this Thing, as it is common, was spread abroad thro' +the King's Houshold-Servants, one of the Courtiers presents the King +with a very fine Horse; the King knowing that it was his Liberality to +_Conon_ that had put him upon this, he hoping to make a great Advantage +by it, he accepted it with a great Deal of Pleasure, and calling a +Council of his Nobles, began to debate, with what Present he should make +a Recompence for so fine and valuable a Horse. In the mean Time the +Giver of the Horse began to be flushed with Expectation, thinking thus +with himself; If he made such a Recompence for a poor Turnip offer'd him +by a Country Farmer, how much more magnificently will he requite the +Present of so fine a Horse by a Courtier? When one answer'd one Thing, +and another another to the King that was consulting about it, as a +Matter of great Moment, and the designing Courtier had been for a long +Time kept in Fools Paradise; At Length, says the King, it's just now +come into my Mind what Return to make him, and calling one of his +Noblemen to him, whispers him in the Ear, bids him go fetch him what he +found in his Bedchamber (telling him the Place where it lay) choicely +wrap'd up in Silk; the Turnip is brought, and the King with his own Hand +gives it the Courtier, wrap'd up as it was, saying that he thought he +had richly requited the Present of the Horse by so choice a Rarity, as +had cost him 1000 Crowns. The Courtier going away, and taking off the +Covering, did not find a _Coal instead of a Treasure_, according to the +old Proverb, but a dry Turnip: and so the Biter was bitten, and soundly +laugh'd at by every Body into the Bargain. + +_As._ But, Mr. King, if you'll please to permit me, who am but a +Peasant, to speak of regal Matters, I'll tell you something that comes +into my Mind, by hearing your Story, concerning the same _Lewis_. For as +one Link of a Chain draws on another, so one Story draws on another. A +certain Servant seeing a Louse crawling upon the King's Coat, falling +upon his Knees and lifting up his Hand, gives Notice, that he had a Mind +to do some Sort of Service; _Lewis_ offering himself to him, he takes +off the Louse, and threw it away privately; the King asks him what it +was; he seem'd ashamed to tell him, but the King urging him, he +confess'd it was a Louse: That's a very good Sign, says he, for it shews +me to be a Man, because this Sort of Vermin particularly haunts Mankind, +especially while they are young; and order'd him a Present of 40 Crowns +for his good Service. Some Time after, another Person (who had seen how +well he came off that had perform'd so small a Service) not considering +that there is a great Difference between doing a Thing sincerely, and +doing it craftily, approached the King with the like Gesture; and he +offering himself to him, he made a Shew of taking something off his +Garment, which he presently threw away. But when the King was urgent +upon him, seeming unwilling to tell what it was, mimicking Abundance of +Modesty, he at last told him it was a Flea; the King perceiving the +Fraud, says to him, What do you make a Dog of me? and orders him to be +taken away, and instead of 40 Crowns orders him 40 Stripes. + +_Phily._ I hear it's no good jesting with Kings; for as Lions will +sometimes stand still to be stroaked, are Lions again when they please, +and kill their Play-Fellow; just so Princes play with Men. But I'll tell +you a Story not much unlike yours: not to go off from _Lewis_, who us'd +to take a Pleasure in tricking Tricksters. He had receiv'd a Present of +ten thousand Crowns from some Place, and as often as the Courtiers know +the King has gotten any fresh Money, all the Officers are presently upon +the Hunt to catch some Part of it; this _Lewis_ knew very well, this +Money being pour'd out upon a Table, he, to raise all their +Expectations, thus bespeaks them; What say you, am not I a very rich +King? Where shall I bestow all this Money? It was presented to me, and I +think it is meet I should make Presents of it again. Where are all my +Friends, to whom I am indebted for their good Services? Now let 'em come +before this Money's gone. At that Word a great many came running; every +Body hop'd to get some of it. The King taking Notice of one that look'd +very wishfully upon it, and as if he would devour it with his Eyes, +turning to him, says, Well, Friend, what have you to say? He inform'd +the King, that he had for a long Time very faithfully kept the King's +Hawks, and been at a great Expence thereby. One told him one Thing, +another another, every one setting out his Service to the best +Advantage, and ever and anon lying into the Bargain. The King heard 'em +all very patiently, and approv'd of what they said. This Consultation +held a long Time, that he might teaze them the more, by keeping them +betwixt Hope and Despair. Among the rest stood the Great Chancellor, for +the King had order'd him to be sent for too; he, being wiser than the +rest, says never a Word of his own good Services, but was only a +Spectator of the Comedy. At Length the King turning toward him, says, +Well, what says my Chancellor to the Matter? He is the only Man that +asks nothing, and says never a Word of his good Services. I, says the +Chancellor, have receiv'd more already from your royal Bounty, than I +have deserved. I am so far from craving more, that I am not desirous of +any Thing so much, as to behave myself worthy of the royal Bounty I have +receiv'd. Then, says the King, you are the only Man of 'em all that does +not want Money. Says the Chancellor, I must thank your Bounty that I +don't. Then he turns to the others, and says, I am the most magnificent +Prince in the World, that have such a wealthy Chancellor. This more +inflam'd all their Expectations, that the Money would be distributed +among them, since he desired none of it. When the King had play'd upon +'em after this Manner a pretty While, he made the Chancellor take it all +up, and carry it Home; then turning to the rest, who now look'd a little +dull upon it, says he, You must stay till the next Opportunity. + +_Philog._ Perhaps that I'm going to tell you, will not seem so +entertaining. However, I entreat you that you would not be suspicious, +that I use any Deceit or Collusion, or think that I have a Design to +desire to be excus'd. One came to the same _Lewis_, with a Petition that +he would bestow upon him an Office that happen'd to be vacant in the +Town where he liv'd. The King hearing the Petition read, answers +immediately, you shall not have it; by that Means putting him out of any +future Expectation; the Petitioner immediately returns the King Thanks, +and goes his Way. The King observing the Man's Countenance, perceiv'd he +was no Blockhead, and thinking perhaps he might have misunderstood what +he said, bids him be call'd back again. He came back; then says the +King; Did you understand what I said to you? I did understand you, quoth +he: Why, what did I say? That I should not have it, said he. What did +you thank me for then? Why, says he, I have some Business to do at Home, +and therefore it would have been a Trouble to me to have here danc'd +Attendance after a doubtful Hope; now, I look upon it a Benefit that you +have denied me the Office quickly, and so I count myself to have gain'd +whatsoever I should have lost by Attendance upon it, and gone without it +at last. By this Answer, the King seeing the Man to be no Blockhead, +having ask'd him a few Questions, says he, You shall have what you ask'd +for, that you may thank me twice, and turning to his Officers; Let, says +he, Letters patent be made out for this Man without Delay, that he may +not be detain'd here to his Detriment. + +_Eugl._ I could tell you a Story of _Lewis_, but I had rather tell one +of our _Maximilian_, who as he was far from hiding his Money in the +Ground, so he was very generous to those that had spent their Estates, +if they were nobly descended. He being minded to assist a young +Gentleman, that had fallen under these Circumstances, sent him on an +Embassy to demand an hundred thousand Florins of a certain City, but I +know not upon what Account. But this was the Condition of it, that if he +by his Dexterity could make any more of it, it should be his own. The +Embassador extorted fifty thousand from 'em, and gave _Caesar_ thirty of +'em. _Caesar_ being glad to receive more than he expected, dismisses the +Man without asking any Questions. In the mean Time the Treasurer and +Receivers smelt the Matter, that he had receiv'd more than he had paid +in; they importune _Caesar_ to send for him; he being sent for, comes +immediately: Says _Maximilian_, I hear you have receiv'd fifty thousand. +He confess'd it. But you have paid in but thirty thousand. He confess'd +that too. Says he, You must give an Account of it. He promis'd he would +do it, and went away. But again he doing nothing in it, the Officers +pressing the Matter, he was call'd again; then says _Caesar_ to him, A +little While ago, you were order'd to make up the Account. Says he, I +remember it, and am ready to do it. _Caesar_, imagining that he had not +settled it, let him go again; but he thus eluding the Matter, the +Officers insisted more pressingly upon it, crying out, it was a great +Affront to play upon _Caesar_ at this Rate. They persuaded the King to +send for him, and make him balance the Account before them. _Caesar_ +agrees to it, he is sent for, comes immediately, and does not refuse to +do any Thing. Then says _Caesar_, Did not you promise to balance the +Account? Yes, said he. Well, says he, you must do it here; here are some +to take your Account; it must be put off no longer. The Officers sat by, +with Books ready for the Purpose. The young Man being come to this +Pinch, replies very smartly; Most invincible _Caesar_, I don't refuse to +give an Account, but am not very well skilled in these Sort of Accounts, +never having given any; but these that sit here are very ready at such +Accounts. If I do but once see how they make up such Accounts, I can +very easily imitate them. I entreat you to command them but to shew me +an Example, and they shall see I am very docible. _Caesar_ perceived +what he meant, but they, upon whom it was spoken did not, and smiling, +answered him, you say true, and what you demand is nothing but what is +reasonable: And so dismissed the young Man. For he intimated that they +used to bring in such Accounts to _Caesar_ as he had, that is, to keep a +good Part of the Money to themselves. + +_Le._ Now 'tis Time that our Story-telling should pass, as they say, +from better to worse, from Kings to _Anthony_, a Priest of _Louvain_, +who was much in Favour with _Philip_ surnamed _the Good_: there are a +great many Things told of this Man, both merrily said, and wittily done, +but most of them are something slovenly. For he used to season many of +his Jokes with a Sort of Perfume that has not a handsome Sound, but a +worse Scent. I'll pick out one of the cleanest of 'em. He had given an +Invitation to one or two merry Fellows that he had met with by Chance as +he went along; and when he comes Home, he finds a cold Kitchen; nor had +he any Money in his Pocket, which was no new Thing with him; here was +but little Time for Consultation. Away he goes, and says nothing, but +going into the Kitchen of a certain Usurer (that was an intimate +Acquaintance, by Reason of frequent Dealings with him) when the Maid was +gone out of the Way, he makes off with one of the Brass Pots, with the +Meat ready boiled, under his Coat, carries it Home, gives it his +Cook-Maid, and bids her pour out the Meat and Broth into another Earthen +Pot, and rub the Usurer's Brass one till it was bright. Having done +this, he sends his Boy to the Pawn-Broker to borrow two Groats upon it, +but charges him to take a Note, that should be a Testimonial, that such +a Pot had been sent him. The Pawn-Broker not knowing the Pot being +scour'd so bright, takes the Pawn, gives him a Note, and lays him down +the Money, and with that Money the Boy buys Wine, and so he provided an +Entertainment for him. By and by, when the Pawn-Broker's Dinner was +going to be taken up, the Pot was missing. He scolds at the Cook-Maid; +she being put hardly to it, affirmed no Body had been in the Kitchen all +that Day but _Anthony_. It seem'd an ill Thing to suspect a Priest. But +however at last they went to him, search'd the House for the Pot, but no +Pot was found. But in short, they charg'd him Home with the Pot, because +he was the only Person who had been in the Kitchen till the Pot was +missing. He confess'd that he had borrow'd a Pot, but that he had sent +it Home again to him from whom he had it. But they denying it stiffly, +and high Words arising, _Anthony_ calling some Witnesses, Look you, +quoth he, how dangerous a Thing it is to have to do with Men now-a-Days, +without a Note under their Hands: I should have been in Danger of being +indicted for Felony, if I had not had the Pawn-Broker's own Hand to +shew. And with that he produces the Note of his Hand. They perceiv'd the +Trick, and it made good Sport all the Country over, that the +Pawn-Broker had lent Money upon his own Porridge-Pot. Men are commonly +very well pleas'd with such Tricks, when they are put upon such as they +have no good Opinion of, especially such as use to impose upon other +Persons. + +_Adol._ In Truth, by mentioning the Name of _Anthony_, you have laid +open an Ocean of merry Stories; but I'll tell but one, and a short one +too, that was told me very lately. A certain Company of jolly Fellows, +who are for a short Life, and a merry one, as they call it, were making +merry together; among the rest there was one _Anthony_, and another +Person, a noted Fellow for an arch Trick, a second _Anthony_. And as +'tis the Custom of Philosophers, when they meet together to propound +some Questions or other about the Things of Nature, so in this Company a +Question was propos'd; Which was the most honourable Part of a Man? One +said the Eyes, another said the Heart, another said the Brain, and +others said other Parts; and every one alleg'd some Reason for his +Assertion. _Anthony_ was bid to speak his Mind, and he gave his Opinion +that the Mouth was the most honourable, and gave some Reason for't, I +can't tell what. Upon that the other Person, that he might thwart +_Anthony_, made Answer that that was the most honourable Part that we +sit upon; and when every one cry'd out, that was absurd, he back'd it +with this Reason, that he was commonly accounted the most honourable +that was first seated, and that this Honour was commonly done to the +Part that he spoke of. They applauded his Opinion, and laughed heartily +at it. The Man was mightily pleas'd with his Wit, and _Anthony_ seem'd +to have the worst on't. _Anthony_ turn'd the Matter off very well, +saying that he had given the prime Honour to the Mouth for no other +Reason, but because he knew that the other Man would name some other +Part, if it were but out of Envy to thwart him: A few Days after, when +they were both invited again to an Entertainment, _Anthony_ going in, +finds his Antagonist, talking with some other Persons, while Supper was +getting ready, and turning his Arse towards him, lets a great Fart full +in his Face. He being in a violent Passion, says to him, Out, you saucy +Fellow, where was you drag'd up? _At Hogs Norton_? Then says _Anthony_, +What, are you angry? If I had saluted you with my Mouth, you would have +answer'd me again; but now I salute you with the most honourable Part of +the Body, in your own Opinion, you call me saucy Fellow. And so +_Anthony_ regain'd the Reputation he had lost. We have every one told +our Tale. Now, Mr. Judge, it is your Business to pass Sentence. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll do that, but not before every Man has taken off his +Glass, and I'll lead the Way. But _talk of the Devil and he'll appear_. + +_Po._ _Levinus Panagathus_ brings no bad Luck along with him. + +_Lev._ Well, pray what Diversion has there been among this merry +Company? + +_Po._ What should we do but tell merry Stories till you come? + +_Lev._ Well then, I'm come to conclude the Meeting. I desire you all to +come to Morrow to eat a Theological Dinner with me. + +_Ge._ You tell us of a melancholy Entertainment indeed. + +_Lev._ That will appear. If you don't confess that it has been more +entertaining than your fabulous one, I'll be content to be amerc'd a +Supper; there is nothing more diverting than to treat of Trifles in a +serious Manner. + + + + +_The LYING-IN WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Lying-in Woman had rather have a Boy than a Girl. + Custom is a grievous Tyrant. A Woman argues that she is + as good as her Husband. The Dignity of 'em both are + compared. The Tongue is a Woman's best Weapon. The Mother + herself ought to be the Nurse. She is not the Mother that + bears the Child, but she that nurses it. The very Beasts + themselves suckle their own Young. The Nurse's Milk + corrupts oftentimes both the Genius and natural + Constitution of the Infant. The Souls of some Persons + inhabit Bodies ill organized._ Cato _judges it the + principal Part of Felicity, to dwell happily. She is + scarce half a Mother that refuses to bring up what she + has brought forth. A Mother is so called from [Greek: mê + têrein]. And in short, besides the Knowledge of a great + many Things in Nature, here are many that occur in + Morality._ + + +EUTRAPELUS, FABULLA. + +_Eu._ Honest _Fabulla_, I am glad to see you; I wish you well. + +_Fa._ I wish you well heartily, Eutrapelus. But what's the Matter more +than ordinary, that you that come so seldom to see me, are come now? +None of our Family has seen you this three Years. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you, as I chanced to go by the Door, I saw the Knocker +(called a Crow) tied up in a white Cloth, I wondered what was the +Matter. + +_Fa._ What! are you such a Stranger in this Country, as not to know that +that's a Token of a lying-in Woman in that House? + +_Eu._ Why, pray is it not a strange Sight to see a white Crow? But +without jesting, I did know very well what was the Matter; but I could +not dream, that you that are scarce sixteen, should learn so early the +difficult Art of getting Children, which some can scarce attain before +they are thirty. + +_Fa._ As you are _Eutrapelus_ by Name, so you are by Nature. + +_Eu._ And so are you too. For _Fabulla_ never wants a Fable. And while I +was in a Quandary, _Polygamus_ came by just in the Nick of Time. + +_Fa._ What he that lately buried his tenth Wife? + +_Eu._ The very same, but I believe you don't know that he goes a +courting as hotly as if he had lived all his Days a Batchelor. I ask'd +him what was the Matter; he told me that in this House the Body of a +Woman had been dissever'd. For what great Crime, says I? says he, If +what is commonly reported be true, the Mistress of this House attempted +to circumcise her Husband, and with that he went away laughing. + +_Fa._ He's a mere Wag. + +_Eu._ I presently ran in a-Doors to congratulate your safe Delivery. + +_Fa._ Congratulate my safe Delivery if you will, _Eutrapelus_, you may +congratulate my happy Delivery, when you shall see him that I have +brought forth give a Proof of himself to be an honest Man. + +_Eu._ Indeed, my _Fabulla_ you talk very piously and rationally. + +_Fa._ Nay, I am no Body's _Fabulla_ but _Petronius's._ + +_Eu._ Indeed you bear Children for _Petronius_ alone, but you don't live +for him alone, I believe. But however, I congratulate you upon this, +that you have got a Boy. + +_Fa._ But why do you think it better to have a Boy than a Girl? + +_Eu._ Nay, but rather you _Petronius's Fabulla_ (for now I am afraid to +call you mine) ought to tell me what Reason you Women have to wish for +Boys rather than Girls? + +_Fa._ I don't know what other People's Minds are; at this Time I am glad +I have a Boy, because so it pleased God. If it had pleased him best I +should have had a Girl, it would have pleased me best too. + +_Eu._ Do you think God has nothing else to do but be a Midwife to Women +in Labour? + +_Fa._ Pray, _Eutrapelus_, what should he do else, but preserve by +Propagation, what he has founded by Creation? + +Eu, What should he do else good Dame? If he were not God, he'd never be +able to do what he has to do. _Christiernus_ King of _Denmark_, a +religious Favourer of the Gospel, is in Exile. _Francis_, King of +_France_, is a Sojourner in _Spain._ I can't tell how well he may bear +it, but I am sure he is a Man that deserves better Fortune. _Charles_ +labours with might and main to inlarge the Territories of his Monarchy. +And _Ferdinand_ is mightily taken up about his Affairs in _Germany._ And +the Courtiers every where are almost Famished with Hunger after Money. +The very Farmers raise dangerous Commotions, nor are deterred from their +Attempts by so many Slaughters of Men, that have been made already. The +People are for setting up an Anarchy, and the Church goes to Ruin with +dangerous Factions. Christ's seamless Coat is rent asunder on all Sides. +God's Vineyard is spoiled by more Boars than one. The Authority of the +Clergy with their Tythes, the Dignity of Divines, the Majesty of Monks +is in Danger: Confession nods, Vows stagger, the Pope's Constitutions go +to decay, the Eucharist is call'd in Question, and Antichrist is +expected every Day, and the whole World seems to be in Travail to bring +forth I know not what Mischief. In the mean Time the _Turks_ over-run +all where-e'er they come, and are ready to invade us and lay all waste, +if they succeed in what they are about; and do you ask what God has +else to do? I think he should rather see to secure his own Kingdom in +Time. + +_Fa._ Perhaps that which Men make the greatest Account of, seems to God +of no Moment. But however, if you will, let us let God alone in this +Discourse of ours. What is your Reason to think it is happier to bear a +Boy than a Girl? It is the Part of a pious Person to think that best +which God, who without Controversy is the best Judge, has given. + +_Eu._ And if God should give you but a Cup made of Crystal, would you +not give him Thanks for it? + +_Fa._ Yes, I would. + +_Eu._ But what if he should give you one of common Glass, would you give +him the like Thanks? But I'm afraid instead of comforting you, by this +Discourse, I should make you uneasy. + +_Fa._ Nay, a _Fabulla_ can be in no Danger of being hurt by a Fable. I +have lain in now almost a Month, and I am strong enough for a Match at +Wrestling. + +_Eu._ Why don't you get out of your Bed then? + +_Fa._ The King has forbid me. + +_Eu._ What King? + +_Fa._ Nay a Tyrant rather. + +_Eu._ What Tyrant prithee? + +_Fa._ I'll tell you in one Syllable. Custom (_Mos_). + +_Eu._ Alas! How many Things does that Tyrant exact beyond the Bounds of +Equity? But let us go on to talk of our Crystal and our common Glass. + +_Fa._ I believe you judge, that a Male is naturally more excellent and +strong than a Female. + +_Eu._ I believe they are. + +_Fa._ That is Mens Opinion. But are Men any Thing longer-liv'd than +Women? Are they free from Distempers? + +_Eu._ No, but in the general they are stronger. + +_Fa._ But then they themselves are excell'd by Camels in Strength. + +_Eu._ But besides, the Male was created first. + +_Fa._ So was _Adam_ before _Christ_. Artists use to be most exquisite in +their later Performances. + +_Eu._ But God put the Woman under Subjection to the Man. + +_Fa._ It does not follow of Consequence, that he is the better because +he commands, he subjects her as a Wife, and not purely as a Woman; and +besides that he so puts the Wife under Subjection, that tho' they have +each of them Power over the other, he will have the Woman to be obedient +to the Man, not as to the more excellent, but to the more fierce Person. +Tell me, _Eutrapelus_, which is the weaker Person, he that yields to +another, or he that is yielded to? + +_Eu._ I'll grant you that, if you will explain to me, what Paul meant +when he wrote to the _Corinthians_, that _Christ was the Head of the +Man, and Man the Head of the Woman;_ and again, when he said, that _a +Man was the Image and Glory of God, and a Woman the Glory of the Man._ + +_Fa._ Well! I'll resolve you that, if you answer me this Question, +Whether or no, it is given to Men alone, to be the Members of Christ? + +_Eu._ God forbid, that is given to all Men and Women too by Faith. + +_Fa._ How comes it about then, that when there is but one Head, it +should not be common to all the Members? And besides that, since God +made Man in his own Image, whether did he express this Image in the +Shape of his Body, or the Endowments of his Mind? + +_Eu._ In the Endowments of his Mind. + +_Fa._ Well, and I pray what have Men in these more excellent than we +have? In both Sexes, there are many Drunkennesses, Brawls, Fightings, +Murders, Wars, Rapines, and Adulteries. + +_Eu._ But we Men alone fight for our Country. + +_Fa._ And you Men often desert from your Colours, and run away like +Cowards; and it is not always for the Sake of your Country, that you +leave your Wives and Children, but for the Sake of a little nasty Pay; +and, worse than Fencers at the Bear-Garden, you deliver up your Bodies +to a slavish Necessity of being killed, or yourselves killing others. +And now after all your Boasting of your warlike Prowess, there is none +of you all, but if you had once experienced what it is to bring a Child +into the World, would rather be placed ten Times in the Front of a +Battle, than undergo once what we must so often. An Army does not always +fight, and when it does, the whole Army is not always engaged. Such as +you are set in the main Body, others are kept for Bodies of Reserve, and +some are safely posted in the Rear; and lastly, many save themselves by +surrendring, and some by running away. We are obliged to encounter +Death, Hand to Hand. + +_Eu._ I have heard these Stories before now; but the Question is, +Whether they are true or not? + +_Fa._ Too true. + +_Eu._ Well then, _Fabulla_, would you have me persuade your Husband +never to touch you more? For if so, you'll be secure from that Danger. + +_Fa._ In Truth, there is nothing in the World I am more desirious of, if +you were able to effect it. + +_Eu._ If I do persuade him to it, what shall I have for my Pains? + +_Fa._ I'll present you with half a Score dry'd Neats-Tongues. + +_Eu._ I had rather have them than the Tongues of ten Nightingales. Well, +I don't dislike the Condition, but we won't make the Bargain obligatory, +before we have agreed on the Articles. + +_Fa._ And if you please, you may add any other Article. + +_Eu._ That shall be according as you are in the Mind after your Month is +up. + +_Fa._ But why not according as I am in the Mind now? + +_Eu._ Why, I'll tell you, because I am afraid you will not be in the +same Mind then; and so you would have double Wages to pay, and I double +Work to do, of persuading and dissuading him. + +_Fa._ Well, let it be as you will then. But come on, shew me why the Man +is better than the Woman. + +_Eu._ I perceive you have a Mind to engage with me in Discourse, but I +think it more adviseable to yield to you at this Time. At another Time +I'll attack you when I have furnished myself with Arguments; but not +without a Second neither. For where the Tongue is the Weapon that +decides the Quarrel; seven Men are scarce able to Deal with one Woman. + +_Fa._ Indeed the Tongue is a Woman's Weapon; but you Men are not without +it neither. + +_Eu._ Perhaps so, but where is your little Boy? + +_Fa._ In the next Room. + +_Eu._ What is he doing there, cooking the Pot? + +_Fa._ You Trifler, he's with his Nurse. + +_Eu._ What Nurse do you talk of? Has he any Nurse but his Mother? + +_Fa._ Why not? It is the Fashion. + +_Eu._ You quote the worst Author in the World, _Fabulla_, the Fashion; +'tis the Fashion to do amiss, to game, to whore, to cheat, to be drunk, +and to play the Rake. + +_Fa._ My Friends would have it so; they were of Opinion I ought to +favour myself, being young. + +_Eu._ But if Nature gives Strength to conceive, it doubtless gives +Strength to give Suck too. + +_Fa._ That may be. + +_Eu._ Prithee tell me, don't you think Mother is a very pretty Name? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ And if such a Thing were possible, would you endure it, that +another Woman should be call'd the Mother of your Child? + +_Fa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ Why then do you voluntarily make another Woman more than half the +Mother of what you have brought into the World? + +_Fa._ O fy! _Eutrapelus_, I don't divide my Son in two, I am intirely +his Mother, and no Body in the World else. + +_Eu._ Nay, _Fabulla_, in this Case Nature herself blames you to your +Face. Why is the Earth call'd the Mother of all Things? Is it because +she produces only? Nay, much rather, because she nourishes those Things +she produces: that which is produced by Water, is fed by Water. There is +not a living Creature or a Plant that grows on the Face of the Earth, +that the Earth does not feed with its own Moisture. Nor is there any +living Creature that does not feed its own Offspring. Owls, Lions, and +Vipers, feed their own Young, and does Womankind make her Offspring +Offcasts? Pray, what can be more cruel than they are, that turn their +Offspring out of Doors for Laziness, not to supply them with Food? + +_Fa._ That you talk of is abominable. + +_Eu._ But Womankind don't abominate it. Is it not a Sort of turning out +of Doors, to commit a tender little Infant, yet reaking of the Mother, +breathing the very Air of the Mother, imploring the Mother's Aid and +Help with its Voice, which they say will affect even a brute Creature, +to a Woman perhaps that is neither wholsome in Body, nor honest, who has +more Regard to a little Wages, than to your Child? + +_Fa._ But they have made Choice of a wholsome, sound Woman. + +_Eu._ Of this the Doctors are better Judges than yourself. But put the +Case, she is as healthful as yourself, and more too; do you think there +is no Difference between your little tender Infant's sucking its natural +and familiar Milk, and being cherish'd with Warmth it has been +accustomed to, and its being forc'd to accustom itself to those of a +Stranger? Wheat being sown in a strange Soil, degenerates into Oats or +small Wheat. A Vine being transplanted into another Hill, changes its +Nature. A Plant when it is pluck'd from its Parent Earth, withers, and +as it were dies away, and does in a Manner the same when it is +transplanted from its Native Earth. + +_Fa._ Nay, but they say, Plants that have been transplanted and grafted, +lose their wild Nature, and produce better Fruit. + +_Eu._ But not as soon as ever they peep out of the Ground, good Madam. +There will come a Time, by the Grace of God, when you will send away +your young Son from you out of Doors, to be accomplish'd with Learning +and undergo harsh Discipline, and which indeed is rather the Province of +the Father than of the Mother. But now its tender Age calls for +Indulgence. And besides, whereas the Food, according as it is, +contributes much to the Health and Strength of the Body, so more +especially it is essential to take Care, with what Milk that little, +tender, soft Body be season'd. For _Horace's_ Saying takes Place here. +_Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu. What is bred in +the Bone, will never out of the Flesh._ + +_Fa._ I don't so much concern myself as to his Body, so his Mind be but +as I would have it. + +_Eu._ That indeed is piously spoken, but not philosophically. + +_Fa._ Why not? + +_Eu._ Why do you when you shred Herbs, complain your Knife is blunt, and +order it to be whetted? Why do you reject a blunt pointed Needle, when +that does not deprive you of your Art? + +_Fa._ Art is not wanting, but an unfit Instrument hinders the exerting +it. + +_Eu._ Why do they that have much Occasion to use their Eyes, avoid +Darnel and Onions? + +_Fa._ Because they hurt the Sight. + +_Eu._ Is it not the Mind that sees? + +_Fa._ It is, for those that are dead see nothing. But what can a +Carpenter do with an Ax whose Edge is spoiled? + +_Eu._ Then you do acknowledge the Body is the Organ of the Mind? + +_Fa._ That's plain. + +_Eu._ And you grant that in a vitiated Body the Mind either cannot act +at all, or if it does, it is with Inconvenience? + +_Fa._ Very likely. + +_Eu._ Well, I find I have an intelligent Person to deal with; suppose +the Soul of a Man was to pass into the Body of a Cock, would it make the +same Sound it does now? + +_Fa._ No to be sure. + +_Eu._ What would hinder? + +_Fa._ Because it would want Lips, Teeth, and a Tongue, like to that of a +Man. It has neither the Epiglottis, nor the three Cartilages, that are +moved by three Muscles, to which Nerves are joined that come from the +Brain; nor has it Jaws and Teeth like a Man's. + +_Eu._ What if it should go into the Body of a Swine? + +_Fa._ Then it would grunt like a Swine. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of a Camel? + +_Fa._ It would make a Noise like a Camel. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of an Ass, as it happened to +_Apuleius_? + +_Fa._ Then I think it would bray as an Ass does. + +_Eu._ Indeed he is a Proof of this, who when he had a Mind to call after +_Caesar_, having contracted his Lips as much as he possibly could, +scarce pronounced O, but could by no Means pronounce _Caesar._ The same +Person, when having heard a Story, and that he might not forget it, +would have written it, reprehended himself for his foolish Thought, when +he beheld his solid Hoofs. + +_Fa._ And he had Cause enough. + +_Eu._ Then it follows that the Soul does not see well thro' purblind +Eyes. The Ears hear not clearly when stopped with Filth. The Brain +smells not so well when oppressed with Phlegm. And a Member feels not so +much when it is benumbed. The Tongue tastes less, when vitiated with ill +Humours. + +_Fa._ These Things can't be denied. + +_Eu._ And for no other Cause, but because the Organ is vitiated. + +_Fa._ I believe the same. + +_Eu._ Nor will you deny, I suppose, that sometimes it is vitiated by +Food and Drink. + +_Fa._ I'll grant that too, but what signifies that to the Goodness of +the Mind? + +_Eu._ As much as Darnel does to a clear Eye-Sight. + +_Fa._ Because it vitiates the Organ. + +_Eu._ Well answer'd. But solve me this Difficulty: Why is it that one +understands quicker than another, and has a better Memory; why is one +more prone to Anger than another; or is more moderate in his Resentment? + +_Fa._ It proceeds from the Disposition of the Mind. + +_Eu._ That won't do. Whence comes it that one who was formerly of a very +ready Wit, and a retentive Memory, becomes afterwards stupid and +forgetful, either by a Blow or a Fall, by Sickness or old Age? + +_Fa._ Now you seem to play the Sophister with me. + +_Eu._ Then do you play the Sophistress with me. + +_Fa._ I suppose you would infer, that as the Mind sees and hears by the +Eyes and Ears, so by some Organs it also understands, remembers, loves, +hates, is provoked and appeas'd? + +_Eu._ Right. + +_Fa._ But pray what are those Organs, and where are they situated? + +_Eu._ As to the Eyes, you see where they are. + +_Fa._ I know well enough where the Ears, and the Nose, and the Palate +are; and that the Body is all over sensible of the Touch, unless when +some Member is seized with a Numbness. + +_Eu._ When a Foot is cut off, yet the Mind understands. + +_Fa._ It does so, and when a Hand is cut off too. + +_Eu._ A Person that receives a violent Blow on the Temples, or +hinder-Part of his Head, falls down like one that is dead, and is +unsensible. + +_Fa._ I have sometimes seen that myself. + +_Eu._ Hence it is to be collected, that the Organs of the Will, +Understanding, and Memory, are placed within the Skull, being not so +crass as the Eyes and Ears, and yet are material, in as much as the most +subtile Spirits that we have in the Body are corporeal. + +_Fa._ And can they be vitiated with Meat and Drink too? + +_Eu._ Yes. + +_Fa._ The Brain is a great Way off from the Stomach. + +_Eu._ And so is the Funnel of a Chimney from the Fire-Hearth, yet if +you sit upon it you'll feel the Smoke. + +_Fa._ I shan't try that Experiment. + +_Eu._ Well, if you won't believe me, ask the Storks. And so it is of +Moment what Spirits, and what Vapours ascend from the Stomach to the +Brain, and the Organs of the Mind. For if these are crude or cold they +stay in the Stomach. + +_Fa._ Pshaw! You're describing to me an Alembick, in which we distil +Simple-Waters. + +_Eu._ You don't guess much amiss. For the Liver, to which the Gall +adheres, is the Fire-Place; the Stomach, the Pan; the Scull, the Top of +the Still; and if you please, you may call the Nose the Pipe of it. And +from this Flux or Reflux of Humours, almost all Manner of Diseases +proceed, according as a different Humour falls down after a different +Manner, sometimes into the Eyes, sometimes into the Stomach, sometimes +into the Shoulders, and sometimes into the Neck, and elsewhere. And that +you may understand me the better, why have those that guzzle a great +Deal of Wine bad Memories? Why are those that feed upon light Food, not +of so heavy a Disposition? Why does Coriander help the Memory? Why does +Hellebore purge the Memory? Why does a great Expletion cause an +Epilepsy, which at once brings a Stupor upon all the Senses, as in a +profound Sleep? In the last Place, as violent Thirst or Want weaken the +Strength of Wit or Memory in Boys, so Food eaten immoderately makes Boys +dull-headed, if we believe _Aristotle_; in that the Fire of the Mind is +extinguish'd by the heaping on too much Matter. + +_Fa._ Why then, is the Mind corporeal, so as to be affected with +corporeal Things? + +_Eu._ Indeed the Nature itself of the rational Soul is not corrupted; +but the Power and Action of it are impeded by the Organs being vitiated, +as the Art of an Artist will stand him in no Stead, if he has not +Instruments. + +_Fa._ Of what Bulk, and in what Form is the Mind? + +_Eu._ You ask a ridiculous Question, what Bulk and Form the Mind is of, +when you have allow'd it to be incorporeal. + +_Fa._ I mean the Body that is felt. + +_Eu._ Nay, those Bodies that are not to be felt are the most perfect +Bodies, as God and the Angels. + +_Fa._ I have heard that God and Angels are Spirits, but we feel the +Spirit. + +_Eu._ The Holy Scriptures condescend to those low Expressions, because +of the Dullness of Men, to signify a Mind pure from all Commerce of +sensible Things. + +_Fa._ Then what is the Difference between an Angel and a Mind? + +_Eu._ The same that is between a Snail and a Cockle, or, if you like the +Comparison better, a Tortoise. + +_Fa._ Then the Body is rather the Habitation of the Mind than the +Instrument of it. + +_Eu._ There is no Absurdity in calling an adjunct Instrument an +Habitation. Philosophers are divided in their Opinions about this. Some +call the Body the Garment of the Soul, some the House, some the +Instrument, and some the Harmony; call it by which of these you will, it +will follow that the Actions of the Mind are impeded by the Affections +of the Body. In the first Place, if the Body is to the Mind that which a +Garment is to the Body, the Garment of _Hercules_ informs us how much a +Garment contributes to the Health of the Body, not to take any Notice of +Colours of Hairs or of Skins. But as to that Question, whether one and +the same Soul is capable of wearing out many Bodies, it shall be left to +_Pythagoras_. + +_Fa._ If, according to _Pythagoras_, we could make Use of Change of +Bodies, as we do of Apparel, it would be convenient to take a fat Body, +and of a thick Texture, in Winter Time, and a thinner and lighter Body +in Summer Time. + +_Eu._ But I am of the Opinion, that if we wore out our Body at last as +we do our Cloaths; it would not be convenient; for so having worn out +many Bodies, the Soul itself would grow old and die. + +_Fa._ It would not truly. + +_Eu._ As the Sort of Garment that is worn hath an Influence on the +Health and Agility of the Body, so it is of great Moment what Body the +Soul wears. + +_Fa._ If indeed the Body is the Garment of the Soul, I see a great many +that are dress'd after a very different Manner. + +_Eu._ Right, and yet some Part of this Matter is in our own Power, how +conveniently our Souls shall be cloathed. + +_Fa._ Come, have done with the Garment, and say something concerning the +Habitation. + +_Eu._ But, _Fabulla_, that what I say to you mayn't be thought a +Fiction, the _Lord Jesus_ calls his Body a _Temple_, and the Apostle +_Peter_ calls his a _Tabernacle_. And there have been some that have +call'd the Body the Sepulchre of the Soul, supposing it was call'd +[Greek: sôma], as tho' it were [Greek: sêma]. Some call it the Prison of +the Mind, and some the Fortress or fortify'd Castle. The Minds of +Persons that are pure in every Part, dwell in the Temple. They whose +Minds are not taken up with the Love of corporeal Things, dwell in a +Tent, and are ready to come forth as soon as the Commander calls. The +Soul of those that are wholly blinded with Vice and Filthiness, so that +they never breathe after the Air of Gospel Liberty, lies in a Sepulchre. +But they that wrestle hard with their Vices, and can't yet be able to do +what they would do, their Soul dwells in a Prison, whence they +frequently cry out to the Deliverer of all, _Bring my Soul out of +Prison, that I may praise thy Name, O Lord._ They who fight strenuously +with Satan, watching and guarding against his Snares, who goes about as +_a roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour;_ their Soul is as it were +in a Garison, out of which they must not go without the General's Leave. + +_Fa._ If the Body be the Habitation or House of the Soul, I see a great +many whose Mind is very illy seated. + +_Eu._ It is so, that is to say, in Houses where it rains in, that are +dark, exposed to all Winds, that are smoaky, damp, decay'd, and ruinous, +and such as are filthy and infected: and yet _Cato_ accounts it the +principal Happiness of a Man, to dwell handsomly. + +_Fa._ It were tolerable, if there was any passing out of one House into +another. + +_Eu._ There's no going out before the Landlord calls out. But tho' we +can't go out, yet we may by our Art and Care make the Habitation of our +Mind commodious; as in a House the Windows are changed, the Floor taken +up, the Walls are either plaistered or wainscotted, and the Situation +may be purified with Fire or Perfume. But this is a very hard Matter, in +an old Body that is near its Ruin. But it is of great Advantage to the +Body of a Child, to take the Care of it that ought to be taken presently +after its Birth. + +_Fa._ You would have Mothers and Nurses to be Doctors. + +_Eu._ So indeed I would, as to the Choice and moderate Use of Meat, +Drink, Motion, Sleep, Baths, Unctions, Frictions, and Cloathings. How +many are there, think you, who are expos'd to grievous Diseases and +Vices, as Epilepsies, Leanness, Weakness, Deafness, broken Backs, +crooked Limbs, a weak Brain, disturbed Minds, and for no other Reason +than that their Nurses have not taken a due Care of them? + +_Fa._ I wonder you are not rather a _Franciscan_ than a Painter, who +preach so finely. + +_Eu._ When you are a Nun of the Order of St. _Clare_, then I'll be a +_Franciscan_, and preach to you. + +_Fa._ In Truth, I would fain know what the Soul is, about which we hear +so much, and talk of so often, and no Body has seen. + +_Eu._ Nay, every Body sees it that has Eyes. + +_Fa._ I see Souls painted in the Shape of little Infants, but why do +they put Wings to them as they do to Angels? + +_Eu._ Why, because, if we can give any Credit to the Fables of +_Socrates_, their Wings were broken by their falling from Heaven. + +_Fa._ How then are they said to fly up to Heaven? + +_Eu._ Because Faith and Charity make their Wings grow again. He that was +weary of this House of his Body, begg'd for these Wings, when he cry'd +out, _Who will give me the Wings of a Dove, that I may fly away, and be +at rest_. Nor has the Soul any other Wings, being incorporeal, nor any +Form that can be beheld by the Eyes of the Body. But those Things that +are perceiv'd by the Mind, are more certain. Do you believe the Being of +God? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ But nothing is more invisible than God. + +_Fa._ He is seen in the Works of Creation. + +_Eu._ In like Manner the Soul is seen in Action. If you would know how +it acts in a living Body, consider a dead Body. When you see a Man Feel, +See, Hear, Move, Understand, Remember and Reason, you see the Soul to be +in him with more Certainty than you see this Tankard; for one Sense may +be deceiv'd, but so many Proofs of the Senses cannot deceive you. + +_Fa._ Well then, if you can't shew me the Soul, paint it out to me, just +as you would the King, whom I never did see. + +_Eu._ I have _Aristotle_'s Definition ready for you. + +_Fa._ What is it? for they say he was a very good Decypherer of every +Thing. + +_Eu. The Soul is the Act of an Organical, Physical Body, having Life_ in +Potentia. + +_Fa._ Why does he rather call it an _Act_ than a _Journey_ or _Way?_ + +_Eu._ Here's no Regard either to Coachmen or Horsemen, but a bare +Definition of the Soul. And he calls the Form _Act_, the Nature of which +is to _act_, when it is the Property of Matter to _suffer_. For all +natural Motion of the Body proceeds from the Soul. And the Motion of the +Body is various. + +_Fa._ I take that in; but why does he add _of an Organical_? + +_Eu._ Because the Soul does nothing but by the Help of Organs, that is, +by the Instruments of the Body. + +_Fa._ Why does he say _Physical_? + +_Eu._ Because _Dædalus_ made such a Body to no Purpose; and therefore he +adds, _having Life_ in Potentia. Form does not act upon every Thing; but +upon a Body that is capable. + +_Fa._ What if an Angel should pass into the Body of a Man? + +_Eu._ He would act indeed, but not by the natural Organs, nor would he +give Life to the Body if the Soul was absent from it. + +_Fa._ Have I had all the Account that is to be given of the Soul? + +_Eu._ You have _Aristotle_'s Account of it. + +_Fa._ Indeed I have heard he was a very famous Philosopher, and I am +afraid that the College of Sages would prefer a Bill of Heresy against +me, if I should say any Thing against him; but else all that he has said +concerning the Soul of a Man, is as applicable to the Soul of an Ass or +an Ox. + +_Eu._ Nay, that's true, or to a Beetle or a Snail. + +_Fa._ What Difference then is there between the Soul of an Ox, and that +of a Man? + +_Eu._ They that say the Soul is nothing else but the Harmony of the +Qualities of the Body, would confess that there was no great Difference; +and that this Harmony being interrupted, the Souls of both of them do +perish. The Soul of a Man and an Ox is not distinguished; but that of an +Ox has less Knowledge than the Soul of a Man. And there are some Men to +be seen that have less Understanding than an Ox. + +_Fa._ In Truth, they have the Mind of an Ox. + +_Eu._ This indeed concerns you, that according to the Quality of your +Guittar, your Musick will be the sweeter. + +_Fa._ I own it. + +_Eu._ Nor is it of small Moment of what Wood, and in what Shape your +Guittar is made. + +_Fa._ Very true. + +_Eu._ Nor are Fiddle-Strings made of the Guts of every Animal. + +_Fa._ So I have heard. + +_Eu._ They grow slack or tight by the Moisture and Driness of the +circumambient Air, and will sometimes break. + +_Fa._ I have seen that more than once. + +_Eu._ On this Account you may do uncommon Service to your little +Infant, that his Mind may have an Instrument well tempered, and not +vitiated, nor relaxed by Sloth, nor squeaking with Wrath, nor hoarse +with intemperate drinking. For Education and Diet oftentimes impress us +with these Affections. + +_Fa._ I'll take your Counsel; but I want to hear how you can defend +_Aristotle_. + +_Eu._ He indeed in general describes the Soul, Animal, Vegetative, and +Sensitive. The Soul gives Life, but every Thing that has Life is not an +Animal. For Trees live, grow old, and die; but they have no Sense; tho' +some attribute to them a stupid Sort of Sense. In Things that adhere one +to another, there is no Sense to be perceived, but it is found in a +Sponge by those that pull it off. Hewers discover a Sense in +Timber-Trees, if we may believe them: For they say, that if you strike +the Trunk of a Tree that you design to hew down, with the Palm of your +Hand, as Wood-Mongers use to do, it will be harder to cut that Tree down +because it has contracted itself with Fear. But that which has Life and +Feeling is an Animal. But nothing hinders that which does not feel, from +being a Vegetable, as Mushrooms, Beets, and Coleworts. + +_Fa._ If they have a Sort of Life, a Sort of Sense, and Motion in their +growing, what hinders but that they may be honoured with the Title of +Animals? + +_Eu._ Why the Antients did not think fit to call them so, and we must +not deviate from their Ordinances, nor does it signify much as to what +we are upon. + +_Fa._ But I can't bear the Thoughts on't, that the Soul of a Beetle and +of a Man should be the same. + +_Eu._ Good Madam, it is not the same, saving in some Respects; your Soul +animates, vegetates, and renders your Body sensible; the Soul of the +Beetle animates his Body: For that some Things act one Way, and some +another, that the Soul of a Man acts differently from the Soul of a +Beetle, partly proceeds from the Matter; a Beetle neither sings nor +speaks, because it wants Organs fit for these Actions. + +_Fa._ Why then you say, that if the Soul of a Beetle should pass into +the Body of a Man, it would act as the human Soul does. + +_Eu._ Nay, I say not, if it were an angelical Soul: And there is no +Difference between an Angel and a human Soul, but that the Soul of a Man +was formed to act a human Body compos'd of natural Organs; and as the +Soul of a Beetle will move nothing but the Body of a Beetle, an Angel +was not made to animate a Body, but to be capable to understand without +bodily Organs. + +_Fa._ Can the Soul do the same Thing? + +_Eu._ It can indeed, when it is separated from the Body. + +_Fa._ Is it not at its own Disposal, while it is in the Body? + +_Eu._ No indeed, except something happen beside the common Course of +Nature. + +_Fa._ In Truth, instead of one Soul you have given me a great many; an +animal, a vegetative, a sensitive, an intelligent, a remembring, a +willing, an angry, and desiring: One was enough for me. + +_Eu._ There are different Actions of the same Soul, and these have +different Names. + +_Fa._ I don't well understand you. + +_Eu._ Well then, I'll make you understand me: You are a Wife in the +Bed-Chamber, in your Work-Shop a Weaver of Hangings, in your Warehouse a +Seller of them, in your Kitchen a Cook, among your Servants a Mistress, +and among your Children a Mother; and yet you are all these in the same +House. + +_Fa._ You philosophize very bluntly. Is then the Soul so in the Body as +I am in my House? + +_Eu._ It is. + +_Fa._ But while I am weaving in my Work-Shop, I am not cooking in my +Kitchen. + +_Eu._ Nor are you all Soul, but a Soul carrying about a Body, and the +Body can't be in many Places at the same Time; but the Soul being a +simple Form, is so in the whole Body, tho' it does not act the same in +all Parts of the Body, nor after the same Manner, how differently +affected soever they are: For it understands and remembers in the Brain, +it is angry in the Heart, it lusts in the Liver, it hears with the Ears, +sees with the Eyes, smells with the Nose, it tastes in the Palate and +Tongue, and feels in all Parts of the Body which are adjoined to any +nervous Part: But it does not feel in the Hair, nor the Ends of the +Nails; neither do the Lungs feel of themselves, nor the Liver, nor +perhaps the Milt neither. + +_Fa._ So that in certain Parts of the Body it only animates and +vegetates. + +_Eu._ It should seem so. + +_Fa._ If one and the same Soul does all these Things in one and the same +Man, it follows of Consequence, that the _Foetus_ in the Womb of the +Mother, both feels and understands, as soon as it begins to grow; which +is a Sign of Life, unless a Man in his Formation has more Souls than +one, and afterwards the rest giving Place, one acts all. So that at +first a Man is a Plant, then an Animal, and lastly a Man. + +_Eu._ Perhaps _Aristotle_ would not think what you say absurd: I think +it is more probable, that the rational Soul is infus'd with the Life, +and that like a little Fire that is buried as it were under too great a +Quantity of green Wood, it cannot exert its Power. + +_Fa._ Why then is the Soul bound to the Body that it acts and moves? + +_Eu._ No otherwise than a Tortoise is bound or tied to the Shell that he +carries about. + +_Fa._ He does move it indeed; but so at the same Time that he moves +himself too, as a Pilot steers a Ship, turning it which Way he will, and +is at the same Time mov'd with it. + +_Eu._ Ay, and as a Squirrel turns his Wheel-Cage about, and is himself +carried about with it. + +_Fa._ And so the Soul affects the Body, and is affected by the Body. + +_Eu._ Yes indeed, as to its Operations. + +_Fa._ Why then, as to the Nature of it, the Soul of a Fool is equal to +the Soul of _Solomon_. + +_Eu._ There's no Absurdity in that. + +_Fa._ And so the Angels are equal, in as much as they are without +Matter, which, you say, is that which makes the Inequality. + +_Eu._ We have had Philosophy enough: Let Divines puzzle themselves about +these Things; let us discourse of those Matters that were first +mentioned. If you would be a compleat Mother, take Care of the Body of +your little Infant, so that after the little Fire of the Mind has +disengaged itself from the Vapours, it may have sound and fit Organs to +make Use of. As often as you hear your Child crying, think this with +yourself, he calls for this from me. When you look upon your Breasts, +those two little Fountains, turgid, and of their own Accord streaming +out a milky Juice, remember Nature puts you in Mind of your Duty: Or +else, when your Infant shall begin to speak, and with his pretty +Stammering shall call you _Mammy_, How can you hear it without blushing? +when you have refus'd to let him have it, and turn'd him off to a +hireling Nipple, as if you had committed him to a Goat or a Sheep. When +he is able to speak, what if, instead of calling you Mother, he should +call you Half-Mother? I suppose you would whip him: Altho' indeed she is +scarce Half a Mother that refuses to feed what she has brought into the +World. The nourishing of the tender Babe is the best Part of Geniture: +For he is not only fed by the Milk, but with the Fragrancy of the Body +of the Mother. He requires the same natural, familiar, accustomed +Moisture, that he drew in when in her Body, and by which he received his +Coalition. And I am of that Opinion, that the Genius of Children are +vitiated by the Nature of the Milk they suck, as the Juices of the Earth +change the Nature of those Plants and Fruits that it feeds. Do you think +there is no Foundation in Reason for this Saying, _He suck'd in this ill +Humour with the Nurse's Milk?_ Nor do I think the Greeks spoke without +Reason, when they said _like Nurses_, when they would intimate that any +one was starved at Nurse: For they put a little of what they chew into +the Child's Mouth, but the greatest Part goes down their own Throats. +And indeed she can hardly properly be said to bear a Child, that throws +it away as soon as she has brought it forth; that is to miscarry, and +the _Greek_ Etymology of [Greek: Mêtêr] from [Greek: mê têrein], _i.e._ +from not looking after, seems very well to suit such Mothers. For it is +a Sort of turning a little Infant out of Doors, to put it to a hireling +Nurse, while it is yet warm from the Mother. + +_Fa._ I would come over to your Opinion, unless such a Woman were +chosen, against whom there is nothing to be objected. + +_Eu._ Suppose it were of no Moment what Milk the little Infant suck'd, +what Spittle it swallow'd with its chew'd Victuals; and you had such a +Nurse, that I question whether there is such an one to be found; do you +think there is any one in the World will go through all the Fatigue of +Nursing as the Mother herself; the Bewrayings, the Sitting up a Nights, +the Crying, the Sickness, and the diligent Care in looking after it, +which can scarce be enough. If there can be one that loves like the +Mother, then she will take Care like a Mother. And besides, this will be +the Effect of it, that your Son won't love you so heartily, that native +Affection being as it were divided between two Mothers; nor will you +have the same Affection for your Son: So that when he is grown up, he +will neither be so obedient to you, nor will you have the same Regard +for him, perhaps perceiving in him the Disposition of his Nurse. The +principal Step to Advancement in Learning, is the mutual Love between +the Teacher and Scholar: So that if he does not lose any Thing of the +Fragrancy of his native good Temper, you will with the greater Ease be +able to instil into him the Precepts of a good Life. And a Mother can do +much in this Matter, in that she has pliable Matter to work upon, that +is easy to be carried any Way. + +_Fa._ I find it is not so easy a Thing to be a Mother, as it is +generally looked upon to be. + +_Eu._ If you can't depend upon what I say, St. _Paul_, speaking very +plainly of Women, says, _She shall be saved in Childbearing._ + +_Fa._ Are all the Women saved that bear Children? + +_Eu._ No, he adds, _if she continue in the Faith_. You have not +performed the Duty of a Mother before you have first formed the little +tender Body of your Son, and after that his Mind, equally soft, by a +good Education. + +_Fa._ But it is not in the Power of the Mother that the Children should +persevere in Piety. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it may not be; but a careful Admonition is of that Moment, +that _Paul_ accounts it imputable to Mothers, if the Children degenerate +from Piety. But in the last Place, if you do what is in your Power, God +will add his Assistance to your Diligence. + +_Fa._ Indeed _Eutrapelus_, your Discourse has persuaded me, if you can +but persuade my Parents and my Husband. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll take that upon me, if you will but lend your helping +Hand. + +_Fa._ I promise you I will. + +_Eu._ But mayn't a Body see this little Boy? + +_Fa._ Yes, that you may and welcome. Do you hear, _Syrisca_, bid the +Nurse bring the Child. + +_Eu._ 'Tis a very pretty Boy. It is a common Saying, there ought to be +Grains of Allowance given to the first Essay: But you upon the first +Trial have shewn the very highest Pitch of Art. + +_Fa._ Why, it is not a Piece of carved Work, that so much Art should be +required. + +_Eu._ That's true; but it is a Piece of cast Work. Well, let that be how +it will, it is well performed. I wish you could make as good Figures in +the Hangings that you weave. + +_Fa._ But you on the Contrary paint better than you beget. + +_Eu._ It so seems meet to Nature, to act equally by all. How solicitous +is Nature, that nothing should be lost! It has represented two Persons +in one; here's the Nose and Eyes of the Father, the Forehead and Chin of +the Mother Can you find in your Heart to entrust this dear Pledge to +the Fidelity of a Stranger? I think those to be doubly cruel that can +find in their Hearts so to do; because in doing so, they do not only do +this to the Hazard of the Child; but also of themselves too; because in +the Child, the spoiling of the Milk oftentimes brings dangerous +Diseases, and so it comes about, that while Care is taken to preserve +the Shape of one Body, the Lives of two Bodies are not regarded; and +while they provide against old Age coming on too early, they throw +themselves into a too early Death. What's the Boy's Name? + +_Fa. Cornelius_. + +_Eu._ That's the Name of his Grand-Father by the Father's Side. I wish +he may imitate him in his unblemished Life and good Manners. + +_Fa._ We will do our Endeavour what in us lies. But, hark ye, +_Eutrapelus_, here is one Thing I would earnestly entreat of you. + +_Eu._ I am entirely at your Service; command what you will, I will +undertake it. + +_Fa._ Well then, I won't discharge you till you have finished the good +Service that you have begun. + +_Eu._ What's that? + +_Fa._ First of all, to give me Instructions how I may manage my Infant, +as to his Health, and when he is grown up, how I may form his Mind with +pious Principles. + +_Eu._ That I will readily do another Time, according to my Ability; but +that must be at our next Conversation: I will now go and prevail upon +your Husband and Parents. + +_Fa._ I wish you may succeed. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I., by Erasmus + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS, VOLUME I. *** + +***** This file should be named 14031-8.txt or 14031-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/0/3/14031/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Virginia Paque and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/14031-8.zip b/old/14031-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..440d175 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14031-8.zip diff --git a/old/14031.txt b/old/14031.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08af250 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14031.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20021 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I., by Erasmus + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I. + +Author: Erasmus + +Release Date: November 12, 2004 [EBook #14031] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS, VOLUME I. *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Virginia Paque and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +The Colloquies of Erasmus. + +TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY. + +_Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M.A._ + +VOL. I. + +LONDON: 1878. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +VOL. I. + +_Prefatory Note_ +_Dedication_ +_Admonitory Note_ +_To the Divines of_ Louvain +_Copy of_ Bailey's _Title_ +Bailey's _Preface_ +_Life of_ Erasmus +_Courtesy in Saluting_ +_Family Discourse_ +_Of Rash Vows_ +_Of Benefice-Hunters_ +_Of a Soldier's Life_ +_The Commands of a Master_ +_The School-master's Admonitions_ +_Of Various Plays_ +_The Child's Piety_ +_The Art of Hunting_ +_Scholastic Studies_ +_The Profane Feast_ +_The Religious Treat_ +_The Apotheosis of_ Capnio +_A Lover and Maiden_ +_The Virgin Averse to Matrimony_ +_The Penitent Virgin_ +_The Uneasy Wife_ +_The Soldier and Carthusian_ +Philetymus _and_ Pseudocheus +_The Shipwreck_ +_Diversoria_ +_Young Man and Harlot_ +_The Poetical Feast_ +_An Enquiry concerning Faith_ +_The Old Mens Dialogue_ +_The Franciscans,_ [Greek: Ptochoplousioi], _or Rich Beggars_ +_The Abbot and Learned Woman_ +_The Epithalamium of Petrus AEgidius_ +_The Exorcism or Apparition_ +_The Alchymist_ +_The Horse-Cheat_ +_The Beggars' Dialogue_ +_The Fabulous Feast_ +_The Lying-in Woman_ + + + + +Prefatory Note. + +The present English version of Erasmus' _Colloquies_ is a reprint of the +translation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. In +his Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close to +the original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the +English Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure that +Erasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin." + +This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chief +peculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic and +proverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases and +allusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogous +English forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographical +studies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words and +phrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construes +Erasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than the +original. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has a +certain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest even +by those who are familiar with the original. + +In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefully +revised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty has +not been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removing +the coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which he +exaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling is +jealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations. + +Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation has +been closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracies +on Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at the +end of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes its +language, has in many of these notes been given, with the view of +increasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainder +of the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneous +character: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, of +course, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed to +afford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may be +intelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to some +extent to the scholar. + +The Colloquies of Erasmus form a rich quarry of intellectual material, +from which each student will extract that which he regards to be of +peculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life and +manners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all find +themselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many who +at the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of a +book which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on its +appearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the making +of history. + +It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editor +undertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as to +space and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea of +what the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting in +accuracy, however falling short of completeness. + +The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed by +the Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Froben +has been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_, +not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon the +history or contents of the book. + + + + +DEDICATION. + + +_D. ERASMUS_ Rot. + +TO + +_JOHN ERASMIUS FROBEN_, + +_A Boy of Excellent Promise: Greeting._ + + +The Book dedicated to you has surpassed my expectation, my dearest +Erasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappoint +my expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seize +upon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has had +repeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You might +say it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, who +foster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you also +may be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning and +probity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep cause +for shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latin +scholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profit +should not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. And +since there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of the +Colloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your fault +the fact should seem that you could not thank me on the same account? +The little book has increased to the fair size of a volume. You must +also endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in sound +learning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed upon +you: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would be +glorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannot +without the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your course +thus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring the +runner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrived +at an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life for +imbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, that +these Colloquies may be truly called yours. + +The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from all +pollutions, and ever lead you on to better things! Farewell. + +BASIL, _August 1st._, 1524. + + + + +AN ADMONITORY NOTE OF ERASMUS ON THE TRICKS AND IMPOSTURES OF A CERTAIN +DOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS +RIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF. + +_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collected +partly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture of +certain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in bad +Latin,--perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderful +applause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I was +compelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, having +applied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that the +book might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of the +honour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy then +six years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done in +the year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receives +addition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made an +addition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but so +tempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, and +their use in polishing the style, they might also contain that which +would conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I have +referred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read with +wonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, it +could not escape [Greek: ton sykophanton degmata]. A certain divine of +Louvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in it +four heretical passages. There was also another incident connected with +this work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certain +passages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attack +monks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kind +which, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source of +more plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this so +stupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some street +buffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certain +divine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it to +add his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to have +suppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would rather +look for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in my +name, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction of +one boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. He +represents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and in +piety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling of +certain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know that +some will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such a +hater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and most +accomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he represents +me as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter of +Jerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letter +under his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he was +made to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falsely +translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would have +succeeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, had +they been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style. +Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurable +roguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is more +rascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting in +power to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up to +Erasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowery +preface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life is +still spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest those +who follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul! + +_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunk +from interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself in +a most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment of +divines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whom +he supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detect +the patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does he +everywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, the +Colleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anything +uncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it to +the British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added some +odious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatred +against me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It is +needless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makes +additions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud, +rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rooting +up everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made by +me are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchman +you are turned into a Gaul,'[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I a +Capon then, when I went hence?': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you are +turned into a Briton. What? was I a Saxon, then, when I went hence?' +_Again, when the same speaker had said_, 'Your garb shows that you are +changed from a Batavian into a Gaul,' _he puts_ 'Briton' _for_ 'Gaul'; +_and when the speaker had replied_, 'I had rather that metamorphosis, +than into a Hen,' _alluding to_ 'Cock:' _he changed_ 'Hen' _into_ +'Bohemian.' _Presently, when there is a joke_, 'that he pronounces Latin +in French style,' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British,' _and yet +allows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses, +because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to the +British. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls' +_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle?' _he thus spoils +the joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to war +with the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war. +Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations does +not hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'Is +Paris free from the plague?' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from the +plague?' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraid +to cut up this capon?' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes no +alteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg?' _Forsooth, +although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired to +sit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal mind +a cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in my +text_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books of +one Cicero.' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of the +contents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my text +rallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless puts +faith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess that +he, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope's +indulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speaker +as recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wants +to appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just as +if one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in the +human body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should cure +the wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made to +God is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confession +which is made to the priest is the best.' _Thus did he take care for +imperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sake +of example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. And +these answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my name +in his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing a +palinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in that +work of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For it +does not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, as +burdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publish +anything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of this +kind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who is +slandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divine +when his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theological +science. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his lies +upon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as to +be willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder at +the incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was a +chick who once upon a time fell out of a nest at Berne, entirely [Greek: +hek kakistou korakost kakiston hoon]. This I am astonished at, if the +report is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those who +pride themselves on having at length secured a man who by the +thunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party of +Luther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrote +also against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that they +are slandered by me, who aid their studies in so many night-watches; +while they themselves willingly embrace monsters of this description, +who bring more dishonour to the order of divines and even of monks, +than any foe, however foul-mouthed, can do. He who has audacity for such +an act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And these +things are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even the +Gospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty. + +This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, is +issued in the month of September, 1524._ + + +[Footnote A: Gallus: meaning also a Cock.] + +[Footnote B: _Immunis_ instead of _immune_ agreeing with Londinum.] + + + * * * * * + +_From a letter of Erasmus dated 5th Oct. 1532, we gather some further +particulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name was +Lambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing a +garbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending to +be a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soon +stolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, and +would have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowl +saved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been proved +against him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think, +Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers,--his cowl thrown aside, teaching the +Gospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellow +out. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. And +this sort of plague spreads from day to day."_ + + + + +#ERASMUS ROTERODAMUS# TO THE _DIVINES OF LOUVAIN_, + + +_His dearly beloved brethren in the Lord, greeting._ + +A matter has been brought to my knowledge, not only by rumour, but by +the letters of trustworthy friends, expressly stating in what words, in +what place, a calumny was directed against me in our midst, through the +agency of a well-known person, who is ever true to himself; whose very +character and former doings lead one to assume as ascertained fact what +in another would have been but probable. Accordingly, I thought I ought +to make no concealment of the matter; especially from you, whose part it +was to restrain the unbridled impudence of the fellow, if not for my +sake, at all events for that of your Order. + +He boasts and vociferates that in the book of Colloquies there are four +passages more than heretical: concerning the _Eating of meats_ and +_Fasting_, concerning _Indulgences_, and concerning _Vows_, Although +such be his bold and impudent assertion, whoever reads the book in its +entirety will find the facts to be otherwise. If, however, leisure be +wanting for the reading of trifles of this description, I will briefly +lay the matter open. But before I approach it, I think well to make +three prefatory remarks. + +First, in this matter contempt of the Emperor's edict[C] cannot be laid +to my charge. For I understand it was published May 6th, 1522, whereas +this book was printed long before: and that at Basle, where no Imperial +edict had up to the time been made known, whether publicly or privately. + +[Footnote C: Edict of the Emperor Charles V.: 1523.] + +Secondly, although in that book I do not teach dogmas of Faith, but +formulae for speaking Latin; yet there are matters intermixed by the +way, which conduce to good manners. Now if, when a theme has been +previously written down in German or French, a master should teach his +boys to render the sense in Latin thus: _Utinam nihil edant praeter +allia, qui nobis hos dies pisculentos invexerunt_. ("Would they might +eat naught but garlic, who imposed these fish-days upon us.") Or this: +_Utinam inedia pereant, qui liberos homines adigunt ac jejunandi +necessitatem_. ("Would they might starve to death, who force the +necessity of fasting on free men.") Or this: _Digni sunt ut fumo pereant +qui nobis Dispensationum ad Indulgentiarum fumos tam care vendunt_. +("They deserve to be stifled to death who sell us the smokes (pretences) +of dispensations and indulgences at so dear a rate.") Or this: _Utinam +vere castrentur, qui nolentes arcent a matrimonio_. ("Would they might +indeed be made eunuchs of, who keep people from marrying, against their +will")--I ask, whether he should be forced to defend himself, for having +taught how to turn a sentence, though of bad meaning, into good Latin +words? I think there is no one so unjust, as to deem this just. + +Thirdly, I had in the first instance to take care what sort of person it +should be to whom I ascribe the speech in the dialogue. For I do not +there represent a divine preaching, but good fellows having a gossip +together. Now if any one is so unfair as to refuse to concede me the +quality of the person represented, he ought, by the same reasoning, to +lay it to my charge, that there one Augustine (I think) disparages the +Stoics' principle of the _honestum_, and prefers the sect of the +Epicureans, who placed the highest good in pleasure. He may also bring +it against me, that in that passage a soldier, amongst many things which +he speaks about in true soldier-fashion, says that he will look for a +priest to confess to, who shall have as little of good as possible about +him. The same objector would, I imagine, bring it up against me, were I +to ascribe to Arius in a dialogue a discourse at variance with the +Church. If such charges against me would be absurd, why in other matters +should not regard be had to the quality of the person speaking? Unless +perchance, were I to represent a Turk speaking, they should decide to +lay at my door whatever he might say. + +With this preface, I will make a few general remarks on the passages +criticised by the person to whom I refer. In the first passage, a boy of +sixteen years says that he confesses only sins that are unquestionably +capital, or gravely suspected; while the Lutherans teach, as I +understand, that it is not necessary to confess all capital offences. +Thus the very facts show, that this boy's speech is in great +disagreement with the dogma which you condemn. Presently, the same boy +being asked, whether it be sufficient to confess to Christ himself, +answers that it will satisfy his mind, if the fathers of the Church were +of the same opinion. From this my critic argues, not with dialectic art, +but with rascally cunning, that I suggest that this _Confession_ which +we now practise was not instituted by Christ, but by the leaders of the +Church. Such an inference might appear sound, were not Christ one of the +Primates of the Church, since according to Peter's saying He is Chief +Shepherd, and according to the word of the Gospel, Good Shepherd. +Therefore he who speaks of princes of the Church, does not exclude +Christ, but includes Him along with the Apostles, and the successors of +the Apostles, in the same manner as he who names the principal members +of the body does not exclude the head. But if any one shall deem this +reply to savour of artifice: well now, let us grant that the boy was +thinking of pure men, heads of the Church: is it then not enough for the +boy that he follows in the matter of confession their authority, even +although he is not assured whether the Popes could ordain this on their +own authority, or handed it down to us from the ordinance of Christ? For +he has a mind to obey, in whatever way they have handed it down. I am +not even myself fully convinced as yet, that the Church defined the +present practice of Confession to be of Christ's ordinance. For there +are very many arguments, to me in fact insoluble, which persuade to the +contrary. Nevertheless, I entirely submit this feeling of my own to the +judgment of the Church. Gladly will I follow it, so soon as on my watch, +for certainty I shall have heard its clear voice. Nay, had Leo's Bull +given the fullest expression of this doctrine, and any one should either +be ignorant of it, or should have forgotten it, it would meanwhile +suffice (I imagine) to obey in this matter the authority of the Church, +with a disposition of obedience, should the point be established. Nor in +truth can it be rightly inferred, _This Confession is of human +ordinance, therefore Christ is not its Author_. The Apostles laid down +the discipline of the Church, without doubt from Christ's ordinances: +they ordained Baptism, they ordained Bishops, &c., but by the authority +of Christ. And yet it cannot be denied, that many particulars of this +Confession depend on the appointment of the Pontiffs, viz., that we +confess once a year, at Easter, to this or that priest; that any priest +absolves us from any trespasses whatever. Hence I judge it to be clear +how manifest is the calumny in what relates to _Confession_. + +Further, no mention is there made of _fasting_, to which the Gospel and +the Apostolic epistles exhort us, but _concerning the choice of foods_, +which Christ openly sets at naught in the Gospel, and the Pauline +epistles not seldom condemn; especially that which is Jewish and +superstitious. Some one will say, this is to accuse the Roman Pontiff +who teaches that which the Apostle condemns. What the Gospel teaches, +is perfectly plain. The Pontiff himself must declare with what intention +he commands what the Gospel does not require. Yet no one there +says--what I know not whether Luther teaches--that the constitutions of +the Pontiffs do not render us liable to guilt, unless there has been +contempt besides. In fact, he who speaks in that passage grants that the +Pope may appoint an observance; he simply enquires, whether this were +the intention of the Pope, to bind all equally to abstinence from meats, +so that one who should partake would be liable to hell-fire, even +although no perverse contempt should be committed. And he who says this +in the Colloquies, adds that he hates fishes not otherwise than he does +a serpent. Now, there are some so affected that fish is poison to them, +just as there are found those who in like manner shrink from wine. If +one who is thus affected with regard to fishes, should be forbidden to +feed on flesh and milk-food, will he not be hardly treated? Is it +possible that any man can desire him to be exposed to the pains of hell, +if for the necessity of his body he should live on flesh? If any +constitution of Popes and Bishops involves liability to the punishment +of hell, the condition of Christians is hard indeed. If some impose the +liability, others not; no one will better declare his intention than the +Pope himself. And it would conduce to the peace of consciences to have +it declared. What if some Pope should decree that priests should go +girt; would it be probable that he declared this with the intention that +if one because of renal suffering should lay aside the girdle, he should +be liable to hell? I think not. St. Gregory laid down, That if any one +had had intercourse with his wife by night, he should abstain the next +day from entering church: in this case, supposing that a man, concealing +the fact of intercourse having taken place, should have gone to church +for no other reason than that he might hear the preaching of the Gospel, +would he be liable to hell? I do not think the holiest man could be so +harsh. If a man with a sick wife should live on meat, because otherwise +she could not be provoked to eat, and her health required food, surely +the Pope would not on that account determine him to be liable to hell! +This matter is simply made a subject of enquiry in the passage referred +to, and no positive statement is made. And certainly before the Imperial +Edict, men were at liberty to enquire concerning these matters. + +In point of fact, neither in that place nor elsewhere do I absolutely +condemn the _Indulgences_ of the Popes, although hitherto more than +sufficient indulgence has been shown them. It is simply that a speaker +ridicules his comrade, who, although in other respects the most +frivolous of triflers (for so he is depicted), yet believed that by the +protection of a Bull he would get safely to heaven. So far from thinking +this to be heretical, I should imagine there was no holier duty than to +warn the people not to put their trust in Bulls, unless they study to +change their life and correct their evil desires. + +But _Vows_ are ridiculed in that passage. Yes, they are ridiculed, and +those (of whom there is a vast multitude) are admonished, who, leaving +wife and children at home, under a vow made in their cups, run off along +with a few pot-companions to Rome, Compostella, or Jerusalem. But, as +manners now are, I think it a holier work to dissuade men altogether +from such Vows than to urge to the making of them. + +These, forsooth, are the execrable heresies which yonder Lynceus +descries in the Puerile Colloquy. I wonder why he does not also give my +Catunculus and the Publian mimes[D] a dusting. Who does not perceive +that these attacks proceed from some private grudge? Yet in nothing have +I done him an injury, except that I have favoured good literature, which +he hates more than sin; and knows not why. Meantime he boasts that he +too has a weapon, by which he may take his revenge. If a man at a feast +calls him Choroebus or a drunkard, he in his turn will in the pulpit cry +heretic, or forger, or schismatic upon him. I believe, if the cook were +to set burnt meat on the dinner-table, he would next day bawl out in the +course of his sermon that she was suspected of heresy. Nor is he +ashamed, nor does he retreat, though so often caught, by the very facts, +in manifest falsehood. + +[Footnote D: Publius Syrus (B.C. 45), a writer of _mimes_, or familiar +prose dramas. A collection of apophthegms from his works is said to have +been used as a school-book in Jerome's days.] + +In the first place what a foolish, what a mad blather he made against my +revised New Testament! Next, what could be more like madness than that +remark which he threw out against J. Faber and myself, when the very +facts bespoke that he did not understand what agreement there was +between me and Faber, or what was the subject of controversy! What more +shameless than his fixing a charge of forgery and heresy in the course +of a public address on me, because I rendered according to the Greek: +Omnes quidem non resurgemus, sed omnes immutabimur ("We shall not all +rise again, but we shall all be changed.") What more like a raging +madman, then his warning the people at Mechlin, in a public address, to +beware of the heresy of Luther and Erasmus! Why should I now recall the +ravings that he belches out rather than utters in the midst of his high +feasting as often as his zeal for the house of the Lord is inflamed from +his cups? He lately said in Holland, that I was set down for a forger +among the divines of Louvain. (One who was present and heard it wrote to +me.) When asked, Why? Because, says he, he so often corrects the New +Testament! What a dolt of a tongue! Jerome so often corrected the +Psalter: is he therefore a forger? In short if he is a forger, who +either rashly or from ignorance translates anything otherwise than it +should be, he was a forger, whose translation we use at the present day +in the Church. But what good does this sort of behavior do him? All men +laugh at him as a Morychus,[E] shun him as a crackbrain,--get out of +his way as a peevish fellow you can do nothing with. Nor can they think +ill of him, of whom he says such spiteful things. And though he +displeases all, himself alone he cannot displease. + +[Footnote E: Lit.: One stained or smeared: an epithet of Bacchus +(Dionysos) in Sicily, "smeared with wine-lees." ([Greek: morysso].)] + +This doubtless he holds to be an Imperial edict, that he with raging +insolence of tongue should rave at whomsoever he pleases. Thus does this +wise and weighty man support the interests of the orthodox faith. This +is not a zeal of God, to hurt the harmless; but it is a rage of the +devil. The Jewish zeal of Phinehas was once extolled, but not that it +might pass as a pattern with Christians. And yet Phinehas openly slew +impious persons. To your colleague whatever he hates is Lutheran and +heretical. In the same way, I suppose, he will call small-beer, flat +wine, and tasteless broth, Lutheran. And the Greek tongue, which is his +_unique_ aversion,--I suppose for this reason, that the Apostles +dignified it with so great an honour as to write in no other,--will be +called Lutheran. Poetic art, for he hates this too, being fonder of the +_potatic_, will be Lutheran. + +He complains that his authority is lessened by our means, and that he is +made a laughing-stock in my writings. The fact is, he offers himself as +an object of ridicule to all men of education and sense; and this +without end. I _repel slander_. But if learned and good men think ill of +_a man_ who directs a slander at one who has not deserved it, which is +it fair to consider the accountable person, he who rightly repels what +he ought not to acknowledge, or he who injuriously sets it afoot? If a +man were to be laughed at for saying that asses in Brabant have wings, +would he not himself make the laughing-matter? He cries out that _the +whole of Luther is in my books_, that on all sides they swarm with +heretical errors. But when those who read my writings find nothing of +the kind, even if ignorant of dialectics, they readily infer the true +conclusion. He has authority from the Emperor. Let him therefore conduct +himself in the spirit of the Emperor, who would rather that wrong-doers +should be cured than punished, and certainly does not desire that the +harmless should be injured. He has entrusted this function to a man he +did not know; when he shall have ascertained the fellow's character, he +will doubtless recall what he has entrusted. It is not the disposition +of the mildest of Emperors, nor of the most upright of Popes, that those +who spend their night-watches in studying how to adorn and assist the +State, should be exposed to the spite of such men; even although there +were some human infirmity in the case. So far are they from desiring to +estrange good and honest men, and force them to take a different side. + +These matters are more your concern than mine. For this man's manners +invite much discredit upon your order, while the mass of the people +judge of you all by this one sample. Unjustly so, I admit; but so the +world wags. And the harshness of your brother estranges no small number +from the study of divinity. I know that the man is utterly disliked by +you, with the exception of two or three boon companions, and one old +hand, who abuses the man's folly in the interests of his own lusts. But +all would definitely understand that you disapprove of him, if, since he +cannot be restrained, you were to expel him from your table. I well know +such a step will be very difficult to take. For men of his stamp are +reluctantly torn away from the smell of stated, sumptuous, and free +repasts. Nevertheless this concerns the honour of your Order, towards +which I have good reason to be well-disposed. Farewell. + +Supposed to have been written in 1531. + + + + +ALL THE + +#Familiar Colloquies# + +OF + +_#Desiderius Erasmus#_, + +OF + +#ROTERDAM,# + +Concerning Men, Manners, and Things, translated into _English_. + + * * * * * + +By N. BAILEY. + + * * * * * + + Unlike in Method, with conceal'd Design, + Did crafty _Horace_ his low Numbers join; + And, with a sly insinuating Grace, + Laugh'd at his Friend, and look'd him in the Face: + Would raise a Blush, when secret Vice he found; + And tickled, while he gently prob'd the Wound: + With seeming Innocence the Crowd beguil'd; + But made the desperate Passes, when he smil'd. + +_Persius Sat. I. Dryden_. + + * * * * * + +_LONDON_ + +1725. + + + + +#THE PREFACE.# + +_There are two Things I would take some Notice of: The first relates to +my Author, and the second to myself, or the Reasons why I have attempted +this Translation of him. And in speaking of the first, I presume I shall +save myself much of what might be said as to the second. Tho'_ Erasmus +_is so well known, especially to those versed in the_ Latin _Tongue, +that there seems to be but little Occasion to say any Thing in his +Commendation; yet since I have taken upon me to make him an_ +English-man, _give me Leave to say, that in my Opinion, he as well +deserves this Naturalization, as any modern Foreigner whose Works are +in_ Latin, _as well for the Usefulness of the Matter of his Colloquies, +as the Pleasantness of Style, and Elegancy of the_ Latin. + +_They are under an egregious Mistake, who think there is nothing to be +found in them, but Things that savour of Puerility, written indeed +ingeniously, and in elegant_ Latin. _For this Book contains, besides +those, Things of a far greater Concern; and indeed, there is scarce any +Thing wanting in them, fit to be taught to a_ Christian _Youth design'd +for liberal Studies. + +The Principles of Faith are not only plainly and clearly laid down, but +establish'd upon their own firm and genuine Basis. The Rules of Piety, +Justice, Charity, Purity, Meekness, Brotherly Concord, the Subjection +due to Superiors, are so treated of, that, in a Word, scarce any Thing +is omitted that belongs to a Man, a Subject, or a Christian. + +Neither are those Things omitted, which respect a Medium of Life, by +which every one may chuse out safely what Ratio of Life he has most Mind +to, and by which he may be taught, not only Civility and Courtesy, but +also may know how to behave himself in the World, so as to gain himself +the good Will of many, and, a good Name among all, and may be able to +discern the Follies and Childishnesses of Fools, and the Frauds and +Villanies of Knaves, so as to guard against 'em all. + +And neither are there wanting Sketches, and that ample ones too, of +Poetical Story, or Pagan Theology, universal History, sacred and +profane, Poetry, Criticism, Logick, Natural and Moral Philosophy, +Oeconomics and Politics; to which are added, a good Number of Proverbs +and Apothegms used by the most celebrated of the Antients. + +But there is one Thing in an especial Manner, that should recommend this +Book to all_ Protestants _in general, and cause them to recommend it to +be read by their Children, that there is no Book fitter for them to +read, which does in so delightful and instructing a Manner utterly +overthrow almost all the Popish Opinions and Superstitions, and erect in +their Stead, a Superstructure of Opinions that are purely Protestant. + +And notwithstanding whatsoever_ Erasmus _hath said in his Apology +concerning the Utility of his Colloquies, that he could say with +Modesty, according to his wonted Dexterity, to temper, and alleviate the +Bitterness of the Wormwood that he gave the_ Papists _to drink in the +Colloquies, it is past a Question, that he lays down a great many Things +agreeable to the_ Protestant _Hypothesis, so that (if you except +Transubstantiation) he reprehends, explodes and derides almost all the_ +Popish _Opinions, Superstitions and Customs. + +Therefore if this golden Book be read with Attention, I doubt not but it +will plainly appear, that the Scripture was in all Things preferr'd by +the Author before them all; and that he accounted that alone truly +infallible, and of irrefragable Authority, and did not account the +Councils, Popes or Bishops so. + +And as to the praying to Saints, it was his Opinion, the christian World +would be well enough without it, and that he abhor'd that common Custom +of asking unworthy Things of them, and flying to them for Refuge more +than to the Father and Christ. + +That he look'd upon all external Things of very small Account, of +whatsoever Species they were: Either the Choice of Meats, Processions, +Stations, and innumerable other Ordinances and Ceremonies, and that they +were in themselves unprofitable, although he, for the sake of Peace and +Order, did conform himself to all harmless Things that publick Authority +had appointed. Not judging those Persons, who out of a Scrupulousness +of Conscience thought otherwise, but wishing that those in Authority +would use their Power with more Mildness. + +And that he esteem'd, as Trifles and Frauds, the Community of good +Works, of all Men whatsoever, or in any Society whatsoever; that he +abhor'd the Sale of Pardons for Sins, and derided the Treasury of +Indulgences, from whence it is a plain Inference, that he believ'd +nothing of Purgatory. + +And that he more than doubted, whether auricular Confession was +instituted by Christ or the Apostles; and he plainly condemns +Absolution, and laugh'd at the giving it in an unknown Tongue. From +whence we may fairly infer, that he was against having the Liturgy +(which ought to be read to Edification) in an unknown Tongue. But he +either thought it not safe, or not convenient, or at least not +absolutely necessary to speak his Mind plainly as to that Matter. + +Likewise, he particularly laugh'd at all the Species of popular and +monastical Piety; such as Prayers repeated over and over, without the +Mind, but recited by a certain Number with their_ Rosaries, _and_ +Ave-Maria's, _by which, God being neglected, they expected to obtain all +Things, though none were particularly nam'd: Their_ tricenary, _and_ +anniversary Masses, _nay, and all those for the Dead: The dying and +being buried in a_ Franciscan's _and_ Dominican's _Garment or Cowl, and +all the Trumpery belonging to it; and did, in a manner condemn all Sorts +of Monastical Life and Order, as practis'd among the Papists. + +He shews it likewise to have been his Opinion, as to the Reliques of_ +Christ, _and he and she Saints, that he judg'd the Worship of them a +vain and foolish Thing, and believ'd no Virtue to be in any of them, +nay, that the most, if not all of them, were false and counterfeit. + +And to crown the Whole, he did not spare that beloved Principle and +Custom of the Papists, so zealously practis'd by them upon Protestants, +viz. the Persecution and Burning of Hereticks. + +And now, of how much Use and Advantage such Things, and from such a +Person as_ Erasmus, _may be, and how much they may conduce to the +extirpating those Seeds of Popery, that may have been unhappily sown, or +may be subtilly instill'd into the Minds of uncautious Persons, under +the specious Shew of Sanctity, will, I presume, easily appear. Tho' the +Things before-mention'd may be Reason sufficient for the turning these +Colloquies of_ Erasmus _into_ English, _that so useful a Treatise may +not be a Book seal'd, either to Persons not at all, or not enough +acquainted with the_ Latin _tongue, as to read them with Edification; +yet I did it from another Motive,_ i.e. _the Benefit of such as having +been initiated, desire a more familiar Acquaintance with the_ Latin +_Tongue (as to the Speaking Part especially, to which_ Erasmus's +_Colloquies are excellently adapted) that by comparing this Version with +the Original, they may be thereby assisted, to more perfectly +understand, and familiarize themselves with those Beauties of the_ Latin +_Language, in which_ Erasmus _in these Colloquies abounds. + +And for that End, I have labour'd to give such a Translation of them, as +might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, +endeavouring to avoid running into a Paraphrase: But keeping as close to +the Original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the_ +English _Idiom, and so depriving the_ English _Reader of that Pleasure, +that_ Erasmus _so plentifully entertains his Reader with in_ Latin. + +_It is true, Sir_ Roger l'Estrange _and Mr._ Tho. Brown, _have formerly +done some select Colloquies, and Mr._ H.M. _many years since has +translated the whole; but the former being rather Paraphrases than +Translations, are not so capable of affording the Assistance +before-mention'd; and as to the latter, besides that his Version is +grown very scarce, the Style is not only antient, but too flat for so +pleasant and facetious an Author as_ Erasmus _is_. + +_I do not pretend to have come up in my_ English, _to that Life and +Beauty of_ Erasmus _in Latin, which as it is often inimitable in the_ +English _Language, so it is also a Task fit to be undertaken by none but +an_ English Erasmus _himself_, i.e. _one that had the same Felicity of +Expression that he had; but I hope it will appear that I have kept my +Author still in my Eye, tho' I have followed him_ passibus haud aequis, +_and could seldom come up to him. I shall not detain you any longer; but +subscribe my self, yours to serve you_, + +_Jan. 25th_, N. BAILEY. 1724-5. + + + + +_The_ LIFE _of_ ERASMUS. + +_DESIDERIUS Erasmus_, surnamed _Roterodamus_, was born at _Roterdam_, a +Town of _Holland_, on the Vigil of _Simon and Jude_, or _October_ the +20th or 28th, 1465, according to his Epitaph at _Basil_; or according to +the Account of his life, _Erasmo Auctore, circa annum, &c._ about the +Year 1467, which agrees with the Inscription of his Statue at +_Roterdam_, which being the Place of his Nativity, may be suppos'd to be +the most authentick. His Mother's Name was _Margaret_, the Daughter of +one _Peter_, a Physician of _Sevenbergen_. His Father's Name was +_Gerard_, who carried on a private Correspondence with her, upon Promise +of Marriage; and as it should seem from the Life which has _Erasmus's_ +Name before it, was actually contracted to her, which seems plainly to +be insinuated by these Words; _Sunt qui intercessisse verba ferunt_: +However, it is not to be denied that _Erasmus_ was born out of Wedlock, +and on that Account, Father _Theophilus Ragnaud_, has this pleasant +Passage concerning him: _If one may be allow'd to droll upon a Man, that +droll'd upon all the World_, Erasmus, _tho' he was not the Son of a +King, yet he was the Son of a crown'd Head_, meaning a Priest. But in +this he appears to have been mistaken, in that his Father was not in +Orders when he begat him. His Father _Gerard_ was the Son of one +_Elias_, by his Mother _Catherine_, who both liv'd to a very advanc'd +Age; _Catherine_ living to the Age of 95. _Gerard_ had nine Brethren by +the same Father and Mother, without one Sister coming between them; he +himself was the youngest of the ten, and liv'd to see two of his +Brothers at _Dort_ in _Holland_, near 90 Years of Age each. All his +Brothers were married but himself; and according to the Superstition of +those Times, the old People had a mind to consecrate him to God, being a +tenth Child, and his Brothers lik'd the Motion well enough, because by +that Means they thought they should have a sure Friend, where they might +eat and drink, and be merry upon Occasion. They being all very pressing +upon him to turn Ecclesiastick, (which was a Course of Life that he had +no Inclination to,) _Gerard_ finding himself beset on all Sides, and by +their universal Consent excluded from Matrimony, resolving not to be +prevail'd upon by any Importunities, as desperate Persons do, fled from +them, and left a Letter for his Parents and Brothers upon the Road, +acquainting them with the Reason of his Elopement, bidding them an +eternal Farewell, telling them he would never see them more. He +prosecuted his Journey to _Rome_, leaving _Margaret_, his Spouse that +was to be, big with Child of _Erasmus. Gerard_ being arriv'd at _Rome_, +betook himself to get his Living by his Pen, (by transcribing Books) +being an excellent Penman; and there being at that Time a great deal of +that Sort of Business to do (for as the Life that is said to be _Erasmo +Auctore_ has it, _tum nondum ars typographorum erat_, i.e. _The Art of +Printing was not then found out_; which was a Mistake, for it had been +found out twenty-four Years before, in the Year 1442. But perhaps the +Meaning may be, tho' it was found out, it was not then commonly used) he +got Money plentifully, and for some Time, as young Fellows us'd to do, +liv'd at large; but afterwards apply'd himself in good Earnest to his +Studies, made a considerable Progress in the _Latin_ and _Greek_ +Tongues, which was very much facilitated by his Employment of +transcribing Authors, which could not but strongly impress them on his +Memory; and he had also another great Advantage, in that a great many +learned Men then flourish'd at _Rome_ and he heard particularly one +_Guarinus_. But to return to _Erasmus_, his Mother _Margaret_ being +delivered of him, he was after his Father called _Gerard_, which in the +_German_ Tongue, signifies _Amiable_; and as it was the Custom among +learned Men in those Times, (who affected to give their Names either in +_Latin_ or _Greek_,) it was turn'd into _Desiderius_ (_Didier_) in +_Latin_, and into _Erasmus_ [Greek: Herasmios] in _Greek_, which has the +same Signification. He was at first brought up by his Grandmother, till +_Gerard's_ Parents coming to the Knowledge that he was at _Rome_, wrote +to him, sending him Word, that the young Gentlewoman whom he courted for +a Wife was dead; which he giving Credit to, in a melancholy Fit, took +Orders, being made a Presbyter, and apply'd his Mind seriously to the +Study of Religion. But upon his Return into his own Country, he found +that they had impos'd upon him. Having taken Orders, it was too late to +think of Marriage; he therefore quitted all further Pretensions to her, +nor would she after this, be induced to marry. _Gerard_ took Care to +have his Son _Erasmus_ liberally educated, and put him to School when he +was scarce four Years old. (They have in _Holland_, an ill-grounded +Tradition; that _Erasmus_, when he was young, was a dull Boy, and slow +at Learning; but Monsieur _Bayle_ has sufficiently refuted that Error, +tho' were it true, it were no more Dishonour to him, than it was to +_Thomas Aquinas, Suarez_, and others.) He was a Chorister at _Utrecht_, +till he was nine Years old, and afterwards was sent to _Daventer_, his +Mother also going thither to take Care of him. That School was but +barbarous, the most that was minded, was _Matins_, Even-Song, &c. till +_Alexander Hegius_ of _Westphalia_, and _Zinthius_, began to introduce +something of better Literature. (This _Alexander Hegius_, was an +intimate Friend to the learned _Rodolphus Agricola_, who was the first +that brought the _Greek_ Tongue over the Mountains of _Germany_, and was +newly returned out of _Italy_, having learned the _Greek_ Tongue of +him.) _Erasmus_ took his first Taste of solid Learning from some of his +Playfellows, who being older than himself, were under the Instruction of +_Zinthius_: And afterwards he sometimes heard _Hegius_; but that was +only upon holy Days, on which he read publickly, and so rose to be in +the third Class, and made a very good Proficiency: He is said to have +had so happy a Memory, as to be able to repeat all _Terence_ and +_Horace_ by Heart. The Plague at that Time raging violently at +_Daventer_, carry'd off his Mother, when _Erasmus_ was about thirteen +Years of Age; which Contagion increasing more and more every Day, having +swept away the whole Family where he boarded, he returned Home. His +Father _Gerard_ hearing of the Death of his Wife, was so concern'd at +it, that he grew melancholy upon it, fell sick, and died soon after, +neither of them being much above forty Years of Age. He assign'd to his +Son _Erasmus_ three Guardians, whom he esteem'd as trusty Friends, the +Principal of whom was _Peter Winkel_, the Schoolmaster of _Goude_. The +Substance that he left for his Education, had been sufficient for that +Purpose, if his Guardians had discharg'd their Trust faithfully. By them +he was remov'd to _Boisleduc_, tho' he was at that Time fit to have gone +to the University. But the Trustees were against sending him to the +University, because they had design'd him for a Monastick Life. Here he +liv'd (or, as he himself says, rather lost three Years) in a +_Franciscan_ Convent, where one _Rombold_ taught Humanity, who was +exceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Youth, and began to +sollicit him to take the Habit upon him, and become one of their Order. +_Erasmus_ excused himself, alledging the Rawness and Unexperiencedness +of his Age. The Plague spreading in these Parts, and after he had +struggled a whole Year with an Ague, he went Home to his Guardians, +having by this Time furnished himself with an indifferent good Style, by +daily reading the best Authors. One of his Guardians was carried off by +the Plague; the other two not having manag'd his Fortune with the +greatest Care, began to contrive how they might fix him in some +Monastery. _Erasmus_ still languishing under this Indisposition, tho' he +had no Aversion to the Severities of a pious Life, yet he had an +Aversion for a Monastery, and therefore desired Time to consider of the +Matter. In the mean Time his Guardians employ'd Persons to sollicit him, +by fair Speeches, and the Menaces of what he must expect, if he did not +comply, to bring him over. In this Interim they found out a Place for +him in _Sion_, a College of Canons Regulars near _Delft_, which was the +principal House belonging to that Chapter. When the Day came that +_Erasmus_ was to give his final Answer, he fairly told them, he neither +knew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet, what himself +was, and that he thought it more advisable for him to pass a few Years +more at School, till he came to know himself better. _Peter Winkel_ +perceiving that he was unmoveable in this Resolution, fell into a Rage, +telling him, he had taken a great deal of Pains to a fine Purpose +indeed, who had by earnest Sollicitations, provided a good Preferment +for an obstinate Boy, that did not understand his own Interest: And +having given him some hard Words, told him, that from that Time he threw +up his Guardianship, and now he might look to himself. _Erasmus_ +presently reply'd, that he took him at his first Word; that he was now +of that Age, that he thought himself capable of taking Care of himself. +When his Guardian saw that threatening would not do any Thing with him, +he set his Brother Guardian, who was his Tutor, to see what he could do +with him: Thus was _Erasmus_ surrounded by them and their Agents on all +Hands. He had also a Companion that was treacherous to him, and his old +Companion his Ague stuck close to him; but all these would not make a +monastick Life go down with him; till at last, by meer Accident, he +went to pay a Visit at a Monastery of the same Order at _Emaus_ or +_Steyn_ near _Goude_, where he found one _Cornelius_, who had been his +Chamber-fellow at _Daventer_. He had not yet taken the Habit, but had +travelled to _Italy_, and came back without making any great +Improvements in Learning. This _Cornelius_, with all the Eloquence he +was Master of, was continually setting out the Advantages of a religious +Life, the Conveniency of noble Libraries, Retirement from the Hurry of +the World, and heavenly Company, and the like. Some intic'd him on one +Hand, others urg'd him on the other, his Ague stuck close to him, so +that at last he was induc'd to pitch upon this Convent. And after his +Admission he was fed up with great Promises to engage him to take upon +him the holy Cloth. Altho' he was but young, he soon perceived how +vastly short all Things there fell of answering his Expectations; +however, he set the whole Brotherhood to applying their Minds to Study. +Before he professed himself he would have quitted the Monastery; but his +own Modesty, the ill Usage he was treated with, and the Necessities of +his Circumstances, overcame him, so that he did profess himself. Not +long after this, by the means of _Gulielmus Hermannus_ of _Buda_, his +intimate Associate, he had the Honour to be known to _Henry a Bergis_ +Bishop of _Cambray_, who was then in Hopes of obtaining a Cardinal's +Hat, which he had obtained, had not Money been wanting: In order to +sollicit this Affair for him, he had Occasion for one that was Master of +the _Latin_ Tongue; therefore being recommended by the Bishop of +_Utrecht_, he was sent for by him; he had also the Recommendation of the +_Prior_, and General, and was entertained in the Bishop's Family, but +still wore the Habit of his Order: But the Bishop, disappointed in his +Hope of wearing the Cardinal's Hat, _Erasmus_ finding his Patron fickle +and wavering in his Affections, prevail'd with him to send him to +_Paris_, to prosecute his Studies there. He did so, and promised him a +yearly Allowance, but it was never paid him, according to the Custom of +great Men. He was admitted of _Montague_ College there, but by Reason of +ill Diet and a damp Chamber, he contracted an Indisposition of Body, +upon which he return'd to the Bishop, who entertain'd him again +courteously and honourably: Having recover'd his Health, he return'd +into _Holland_, with a Design to settle there; but being again invited, +he went back to _Paris_. But having no Patron to support him, he rather +made a Shift to live (to use his own Expression) than to study there; +and undertook the Tuition of an _English_ Gentleman's two Sons. And the +Plague returning there periodically for many Years, he was obliged every +Year to return into his own Country. At length it raging all the Year +long, he retir'd to _Louvain_. + +After this he visited _England_, going along with a young Gentleman, to +whom he was Tutor, who, as he says himself, was rather his Friend than +his Patron. In _England_ he was received with universal Respect; and, as +he tells us himself in his Life, he won the Affections of all good Men +in our Island. During his Residence here, he was intimately acquainted +with _Sir Thomas More_, _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_, +_John Colet_, Dean of St. _Pauls_, the Founder of St. _Paul's School_, a +Man remarkable for the Regularity of his Life, great Learning and +Magnificence; with _Hugh Latimer_ Bishop of _Winchester_, _Linacre_, +_Grocinus_, and many other honourable and learned Persons, and passed +some Years at _Cambridge_, and is said to have taught there; but whether +this was after his first or second Time of visiting _England_, I do not +determine: However, not meeting with the Preferment he expected, he went +away hence to make a Journey to _Italy_, in the Company of the Sons of +_Baptista Boetius_, a _Genoese_, Royal Professor of Physick in +_England_; which Country, at that Time, could boast of a Set of learned +Men, not much inferior to the _Augustan_ Age: But as he was going to +_France_, it was his ill Fortune, at _Dover_, to be stripp'd of all he +had; this he seems to hint at in his _Colloquy_, intitled, the +_Religious Pilgrimage_: But yet he was so far from revenging the Injury, +by reflecting upon the Nation, that he immediately published a Book in +Praise of the King and Country; which Piece of Generosity gained him no +small Respect in _England_. And it appears by several of his Epistles, +that he honoured _England_ next to the Place of his Nativity. + +It appears by _Epist. 10. Lib. 16_. that when he was in _England_ +Learning flourished very much here, in that he writes, _Apud Anglos +triumphant bonae Literae recta Studia_; and in _Epist. 12. Lib. 16_. he +makes no Scruple to equal it to _Italy_ itself; and _Epist. 26. Lib. 6._ +commends the _English_ Nobility for their great Application to all +useful Learning, and entertaining themselves at Table with learned +Discourses, when the Table-Talk of Churchmen was nothing but Ribaldry +and Profaneness. In _Epist_. 10. _Lib_. 5, which he addresses to +_Andrelinus_, he invites him to come into _England_, recommending it as +worth his While, were it upon no other Account, than to see the charming +Beauties with which this Island abounded; and in a very pleasant Manner +describes to him the Complaisance and innocent Freedom of the _English_ +Ladies, telling him, that when he came into a Gentleman's House he was +allowed to salute the Ladies, and also to do the same at taking Leave: +And tho' he seems to talk very feelingly on the Subject, yet makes no +Reflections upon the Virtue of _English_ Women. But to return to him; as +to his Voyage to _Italy_, he prosecuted his Journey to _Turin_, and took +the Degree of Doctor of Divinity in that University; he dwelt a whole +year in _Bolognia_, and there obtain'd a Dispensation from Pope _Julian_ +to put off his Canon's Habit, but upon Condition not to put off the +Habit of Priest; and after that went to _Venice_, where was the +Printing-House of the famous _Manutius Aldus_, and there he published +his Book of _Adagies_, and staying some Time there, wrote several +Treatises, and had the Conversation of many eminent and learned Men. +From thence he went to _Padua_, where at that Time _Alexander_ the Son +of _James_ King of _Scotland_, and Bishop of St. _Andrews_ in +_Scotland_, studied, who chose _Erasmus_ for his Tutor in Rhetorick, and +went to _Seana_, and thence to _Rome_, where his great Merits had made +his Presence expected long before. At _Rome_ he gained the Friendship +and Esteem of the most considerable Persons in the City, was offered the +Dignity of a Penitentiary, if he would have remained there: But he +returned back to the Archbishop, and not long after went with him again +to _Italy_, and travelling farther into the Country, went to _Cuma_, and +visited the Cave of _Sybilla_. After the Death of the Archbishop he +began to think of returning to his own Country, and coming over the +_Rhetian Alps_, went to _Argentorat_, and thence by the Way of the +_Rhine_ into _Holland_, having in his Way visited his Friends at +_Antwerp_ and _Louvain_; but _Henry_ VIII. coming to the Crown of +England, his Friends here, with many Invitations and great Promises, +prevailed upon him to come over to _England_ again, where it was his +Purpose to have settled for the remaining Part of his Life, had he found +Things according to the Expectation they had given him: But how it came +about is uncertain, whether _Erasmus_ was wanting in making his Court +aright to Cardinal _Wolsey_, who at that Time manag'd all Things at his +Pleasure; or, whether it were that the Cardinal look'd with a jealous +Eye upon him, because of his intimate Friendship with _William Warham_, +Archbishop of _Canterbury_, who had taken him into his Favour, between +whom and _Wolsey_ there was continual Clashing, (the Cardinal after he +had been made the Pope's Legate, pretending a Power in the +Archbishoprick of _Canterbury_.) On this Disappointment he left +_England_, and went to _Flanders_; Archbishop _Warham_ had indeed shewed +his Esteem for him, in giving him the Living of _Aldington_. In short, +_Erasmus_ takes Notice of the Friendship between himself and _Warham_ in +the _Colloquy_ called, _The Religious Pilgrimage_. + +As to his Familiarity with Sir _Thomas More_, there are several Stories +related, and especially one concerning the Disputes that had been +between them about _Transubstantiation_, or the _real Presence_ of +Christ in the consecrated Wafer, of which Sir _Thomas_ was a strenuous +Maintainer, and _Erasmus_ an Opponent; of which, when _Erasmus_ saw he +was too strongly byassed to be convinced by Arguments, he at last made +use of the following facetious Retortion on him. It seems in their +Disputes concerning the real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, which +were in _Latin_, Sir _Thomas_ had frequently used this Expression, and +laid the Stress of his Proof upon the Force of Believing, _Crede quod +edis et edis_, _i.e._ Believe you eat [Christ] and you do eat him; +therefore _Erasmus_ answers him, _Crede quod habes et habes, Believe +that you have_ [_your Horse_] _and you have him_. It seems, at +_Erasmus's_ going away, Sir _Thomas_ had lent him his Horse to carry him +to the Sea-side or _Dover_; but he either carried him with him over Sea +to _Holland_, or sent him not back to Sir _Thomas_, at least for some +Time; upon which Sir _Thomas_ writing to _Erasmus_ about his Horse, +_Erasmus_ is said to have written back to him as follows. + + _Ut mihi scripsisti de corpore Christi, + Crede quod edis et edis. + Sic tibi rescribo de tuo Palfrido; + Crede quod habes et habes_. + +Being arriv'd at _Flanders_ by the Interest of _Sylvagius_ Chancellor +to _Charles of Austria_, afterwards Emperor of _Germany_, known by the +name of _Charles_ V: he was made one of his Counsellors. + +In the mean Time _Johannes Frobenius_, a famous Printer, having printed +many of his Works at _Basil_ in _Switzerland_, and being much taken with +the Elegancy of his Printing, and the Neatness of his Edition, he went +thither, pretending that he undertook that Journey for the Performance +of some Vow he had made; he was kindly entertain'd by him, and publish'd +several Books there, and dedicated this his Book of Colloquies to +_Frobenius's_ Son, and resided till the Mass had been put down there by +the Reformers. When he left that Place, he retir'd to _Friburg_ in +_Alsace_. Before his going to _Friburg_, he visited the low Countries to +settle certain Affairs there. And was at _Cologn_ at the Time that the +Assembly was at _Worms_, which being dissolv'd, he went again to +_Basil_, either, as some say, for the Recovery of his Health, or, as +others, for the publishing of several Books. He receiv'd the Bounty and +Munificence of several Kings, Princes, and Popes, and was honourably +entertain'd by many of the chief Cities which he pass'd through. And by +his Procurement, a College of three Languages was instituted at +_Louvain_, at the Charge of _Hieronimus Buslidius_, Governour of _Aria_, +out of certain Monies he at his Death bequeath'd to the use of studious +and learned Men. An Account of which coming to the Ears of _Francis_ +King of _France_, he invited him by Letters to _Paris_, in order, by his +Advice to erect the like College there. But certain Affairs happening, +his Journey thither was hindred. He went to _Friburg_ in _Alsace_, where +he bought him an House, and liv'd seven Years in great Esteem and +Reputation, both with the chief Magistrates and Citizens of the Place, +and all Persons of any Note in the University. But his Distemper, which +was the Gout, coming rudely upon him, he, thinking the Change of Air +would afford him Relief, sold his House, and went again to _Basil_, to +the House of _Frobenius_; but he had not been there above nine Months +before his Gout violently assaulted him, and his strength having +gradually decay'd, he was seized with a Dysentery, under which having +laboured for a Month, it at last overcame him, and he died at the House +of _Jerome Frobenius_, the son of _John_ the famous Printer, the 12th +of _July_ 1536, about Midnight, being about seventy Years of Age: After +his last retreat to _Basil_, he went seldom abroad; and for some of the +last Months stirred not out of his Chamber. He retained a sound Mind, +even to the last Moments of his Life; and, as a certain Author saith, +bid Farewell to the World, and passed into the State of another Life, +after the Manner of a Protestant, without the Papistical Ceremonies of +Rosaries, Crosses, Confession, Absolution, or receiving the +transubstantiated Wafer, and in one Word, not desiring to have any of +the _Romish_ Superstitions administered, but according to the true Tenor +of the Gospel, taking Sanctuary in nothing but the Mercies of God in +Christ. And finding himself near Death, he gave many Testimonies of +Piety and Christian Hope in God's Mercy, and oftentimes cry'd out in the +_German_ Language, _Liever Godt_, _i.e._ dear God; often repeating, O +Jesus have Mercy on me! O Lord, deliver me! Lord, put an End to my +Misery! Lord, have Mercy upon me. + +In his last Will, he made the celebrated Lawyer _Bonifacius Amerbachius_ +his Executor, bequeathing the greatest Part of his Substance to +charitable Uses; as for the Maintenance of such as were poor and +disabled through Age or Sickness; for the Marrying of poor young +Virgins, to keep them from Temptations to Unchastity; for the +maintaining hopeful Students in the University, and such like charitable +Uses. In the overseeing of his Will, he join'd with _Amerbachius_, two +others, _Jerome Frobenius_, and _Nicholas Episcopius_, who were his +intimate Friends, and whom a certain Author says, had then espoused the +Reformation began by _Luther_ and other Reformers. The city of _Basil_ +still pays _Erasmus_ the Respect which is due to the Memory of so +eminent a Person; they not only call'd one of the Colleges there after +his Name, but shew the House where he died to Strangers, with as much +Veneration as the People of _Roterdam_ do the House where he was born. + +I shall not here pretend to give a Catalogue of all _Erasmus's_ genuine +Pieces, which they shew at _Basil_: As to his Colloquies and _Moria +Encomium_, they have seen more Editions than any other of his Works; and +_Moreri_ says, that a Bookseller at _Paris_, who thoroughly understood +his Trade, sold twenty four thousand of them at one Impression, by +getting it whisper'd to his Customers, that the Book was prohibited, and +would suddenly be call'd in. + +He was buried at _Basil_, in the Cathedral Church, on the left Side near +the Choir, in a Marble Tomb; on the fore Side of which was this +Inscription: + + CHRISTO SERVATORIS. + DESID. ERASMO ROTERODAMO. + + _Viro_ omnibus modis maximo; + + Cujus incomparabilem in omni disciplinarum genere eruditionem, + pari conjunctam prudentia, + + _Posteri_ et admirabuntur et praedicabunt + + BONIFACIUS AMERBACHIUS, HIERONYMUS FROBENIUS, + NICHOLAS EPISCOPIUS Haeredes, + + Et nuncupati supremae suae voluntatis _vindices_ + + _Patrono optimo_, + + non _Memoriae_, quam immortalem sibi Editis Lucubrationibus + comparavit, iis, tantisper dum orbis Terrarum stabit, superfuturo, + ac eruditis ubique gentium colloquuturo: sed _Corporis + Mortalis_, quo reconditum sit ergo, hoc saxum posuere. + + Mortuus est IV. Eidus Julias jam septuagenarius, Anno a + Christo nato, M.D. XXXVI. + +Upon the upper Part of the Tomb is a quadrangular Base, upon which +stands the Effigies of the Deity of _Terminus_, which _Erasmus_ chose +for the Impress of his Seal, and on the Front of that Base is this +Inscription. + + DES. ERASMUM ROTERODAMUM _Amici_ sub hoc saxo condebant, + + IV, eid. Julias M.D. XXXVI. + +In the Year 1549, a wooden Statue, in Honour of so great a Man, was +erected in the Market-place at _Roterdam_; and in the Year 1557, a Stone +one was erected in the Stead of it; but this having been defaced by the +_Spaniards_ in the Year 1572, as soon as the Country had recovered its +Liberty it was restored again. But in the Year 1622, instead of it, a +very compleat one of Brass eight Foot high with the Pedestal, was +erected, which is now standing on the Bridge at _Roterdam_, and likely +long to remain there, on the Foot of which is the following Inscription. + + DESIDERIO ERASMO MAGNO, + + Scientiarum atque Literature politioris _vindici et + instauratori_: _Viro_ saeculi sui _Primario_, _civi_ + omnium praestantissimo, ac nominis immortalitatem scriptis + aeviternis jure _consecuto_, S.P.Q. ROTERODAMUS. + + Ne quod tantis apud se suosque posteros _virtutibus_ + praemium deesset, _Statuam_ hanc ex sere publico erigendam + curaverunt. + + +On the right Side are these Verses of _Nicholas Heinsius_. + + _Barbariae talem se debellator_ Erasmus, + _Maxima laus Batavi nominis, ore tulit. + Reddidit, en, fatis, Ars obluctata sinistris, + De tanto spolium nacta quod urna viro est. + Ingenii caeleste jubar, majusque caduco + Tempore qui reddat, solus_ Erasmus _erit_. + +On the left Side, and behind, there is an Inscription in the _Dutch_ +Language, much to the Purport of the first Inscription. On the House +where _Erasmus_ was born, formerly was this Inscription. + + _Haec est parva Domus, magnus qua natus_ Erasmus. + +The same House being rebuilt and enlarged, has the following +Inscription. + + _AEdibus his ortus Mundum decoravit_ Erasmus, + _Artibus ingenuis, Religione, Fide_. + +As for his Stature, he was neither very low nor very tall, his Body well +set, proportioned and handsome, neither fat nor lean, but of a nice and +tender Constitution, and easily put out of Order with the least +Deviation from his ordinary Way of Living; he had from his Childhood so +great an Aversion to eating of Fish, that he never attempted it without +the Danger of his Life, and therefore obtain'd a Dispensation from the +Pope from eating Fish in _Lent_, as appears by the Story of _Eras_, (as +he stiles himself) in the Colloquy call'd _Ichthyophagia_. He was of a +fair and pale Complexion, had a high Forehead, his Hair, in his younger +Years, inclining to yellow, his Nose pretty long, a little thick at the +End, his Mouth something large, but not ill made, his Eyes grey but +lively, his Countenance chearful and pleasant, his Voice small, but +musical, his Speech distinct and plain, pleasant and jocose, his Gaite +handsome and grave; he had a, most happy Memory and acute Wit, he was +very constant to his Friend, and exceeding liberal to those that were +under Necessity, especially to studious and hopeful Youths, and to such +as were destitute in their Journey: In his Conversation he was very +pleasant and affable, free from peevish and morose Humours, but very +witty and satyrical. It is related, that when _Erasmus_ was told, that +_Luther_ had married and gotten the famous _Catharine Bora_ with Child, +he should in a jesting Manner say, that, if according to the popular +Tradition, _Antichrist_ was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, the +World was in a fair Way now to have a Litter of Antichrists. + +I shall conclude with the Character given of _Erasmus_ by Mr. _Thomas +Brown_, who comparing him with _Lucian_, says, That whereas _Erasmus_ +had translated Part of his Dialogues into _Latin_, he had made _Lucian_ +the Pattern of his Colloquies, and had copied his Graces with that +Success, that it is difficult to say which of the two was the Original. + +That both of them had an equal Aversion to austere, sullen, designing +Knaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever. That both of +them were Men of Wit and Satyr, but that _Erasmus_, according to the +Genius of his Country, had more of the Humourist in him than _Lucian_, +and in all Parts of Learning was infinitely his Superior. That _Lucian_ +liv'd in an Age, when Fiction and Fable had usurp'd the Name of +Religion, and Morality was debauch'd by a Set of sowr Scoundrels, Men of +Beard and Grimace, but scandalously lewd and ignorant, who yet had the +Impudence to preach up Virtue, and stile themselves Philosophers, +perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of their +several Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if it is +possible, about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in a +different Way, to dupe and amuse the poor People by the fantastick +Singularity of their Habits, the unintelligible Jargon of their Schools, +and their Pretentions to a severe and mortified Life. This motly Herd of +Jugglers _Lucian_ in a great Measure help'd to chase out of the World, +by exposing them in their proper Colours. + +But in a few Generations after him, a new Generation sprung up in the +World, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from the +former in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in the +main, the same individual Imposters; the same everlasting +Cobweb-Spinners as to their nonsensical Controversies, the same +abandon'd Rakehells as to their Morals; but as for the mysterious Arts +of heaping up Wealth, and picking the Peoples Pockets, as much superior +to their Predecessors the _Pagan_ Philosophers, as an overgrown +Favourite that cheats a whole Kingdom, is to a common Malefactor. + +These were the sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices _Erasmus_ has +so effectually lash'd, that some Countries have entirely turn'd these +Drones out of their Cells, and in other Places where they are still +kept, they are grown contemptible to the highest Degree, and oblig'd to +be always upon their Guard. + + + + +THE + +_Familiar Colloquies_ + +OF + +DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, + +OF + +_ROTERDAM_. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Courtesy and Civility in Saluting, + who, when, and by what Title we ought to Salute_. + + +_At the First Meeting_. + +A Certain Person teaches, and not without Reason, that we should Salute +freely. For a courteous and kind Salutation oftentimes engages +Friendship, and reconciles Persons at Variance, and does undoubtedly +nourish and increase a mutual Benevolence. There are indeed some Persons +that are such Churls, and of so clownish a Disposition, that if you +salute them, they will scarcely salute you again. But this Vice is in +some Persons rather the Effect of their Education, than their natural +Disposition. + +It is a Piece of Civility to salute those that come in your Way; either +such as come to us, or those that we go to speak with. And in like +Manner such as are about any Sort of Work, either at Supper, or that +yawn, or hiccop, or sneeze, or cough. But it is the Part of a Man that +is civil even to an Extreme, to salute one that belches, or breaks Wind +backward. But he is uncivilly civil that salutes one that is making +Water, or easing Nature. + +God save you Father, God save you little Mother, God save you Brother, +God save you my worthy Master, God save you heartily Uncle, God save you +sweet Cousin. + +It is courteous to make Use of a Title of Relation or Affinity, unless +when it carries something of a Reflection along with it, then indeed it +is better not to use such Titles, tho' proper; but rather some that are +more engaging, as when we call a Mother in Law, Mother; a Son in Law, +Son; a Father in Law, Father; a Sister's Husband, Brother; a Brother's +Wife, Sister: And the same we should do in Titles, either of Age or +Office. For it will be more acceptable to salute an antient Man by the +Name of Father, or venerable Sir, than by the Sirname of Age; altho' in +antient Times they used to make use of [Greek: ho geron], as an +honourable Title. God save you Lieutenant, God save you Captain; but not +God save you Hosier or Shoe-maker. God save you Youth, or young Man. Old +Men salute young Men that are Strangers to them by the Name of Sons, and +young Men again salute them by the Name of Fathers or Sirs. + + +_A more affectionate Salutation between Lovers_. + +God save you my little _Cornelia_, my Life, my Light, my Delight, my +Sweet-heart, my Honey, my only Pleasure, my little Heart, my Hope, my +Comfort, my Glory. + + +_Either for the Sake of Honour or otherwise_. + +_Sal._ O Master, God bless ye. + +_Ans._ Oh! Good Sir, I wish you the same. + +_Sal._ God bless you most accomplish'd, and most famous Sir. God bless +you again and again thou Glory of Learning. God save you heartily my +very good Friend. God save you my _Maecenas_. + +_Ans._ God save you my Singular Patron, God save you most approv'd Sir. +God save you, the only Ornament of this Age. God bless you, the Delight +of _Germany_. + +_Sal._ God bless you all together. God bless you all alike. + +_Ans._ God bless you my brave Boys. + +_Sal._ God save you merry Companion. God bless you Destroyer of Wine. + +_Ans._ God bless you Glutton, and unmerciful Devourer of Cakes. + +_Sal._ God bless you heartily President of all Virtue. + +_Ans._ God bless you in like Manner, Pattern of universal Honesty. + +_Sal._ God save you little old Woman of Fifteen Years of Age. + +_Ans._ God save you Girl, eighty Years old. + +_Sal._ Much good may it do you with your bald Pate. + +_Ans._ And much good may it do you with your slit Nose. As you salute, +so you shall be saluted again. If you say that which is ill, you shall +hear that which is worse. + +_Sal._ God save you again and again. + +_Ans._ God save you for ever and ever. + +_Sal._ God save you more than a thousand Times. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather be well once for all. + +_Sal._ God bless you as much as you can desire. + +_Ans._ And you as much as you deserve. + +_Sal._ I wish you well. + +_Ans._ But what if I won't be so? In truth I had rather be sick, than to +enjoy the Health that you want. + +God bless your Holiness, Your Greatness, Your Highness, Your Majesty, +Your Beatitude, Your High Mightiness, are Salutations rather us'd by the +Vulgar, than approv'd by the Learned. + + +_In the Third Person_. + +_Sapidus_ wishes Health to his _Erasmus_. + +_Sapidus_ salutes his _Beatus_, wishing him much Health. + + * * * * * + +_Another Form_. + +_Sal._ God bless you _Crito_, I wish you well good Sir. + +_Ans._ And I wish you better. Peace be to thee Brother, is indeed a +Christian Salutation, borrow'd from the _Jews_: but yet not to be +rejected. And of the like Kind is, A happy Life to you. + +_Sal._ Hail Master. + +_Ans._ In truth I had rather have than crave. + +_Sal._ [Greek: Chaire]. + +_Ans._ Remember you are at _Basil_, and not _Athens_. + +_Sal._ How do you then dare to speak _Latin_ when you are not at _Rome_? + + * * * * * + +_Forms of well Wishing_. + +And to wish well is a Sort of Salutation. + + +_To a Woman with Child_. + +God send you a good Delivery, and that you may make your Husband Father +of a fine Child. May the Virgin Mother make you a happy Mother. I wish +that this swell'd Belly may asswage happily. Heaven grant that this +Burthen you carry, whatsoever it is, may have as easy an out-coming as +it had an in-going. God give you a good Time. + + +_To Guests_. + +Happy be this Feast. Much good may it do all the Company. I wish all +Happiness to you all. God give you a happy Banquet. + +_To one that sneezes._ + +May it be lucky and happy to you. God keep you. May it be for your +Health. God bless it to you. + +_To one that is about to begin any Business._ + +May it prove happy and prosperous for the Publick Good. May that you are +going about be an universal Good. God prosper what you are about. God +bless your Labours. God bless your Endeavours. I pray that by God's +Assistance you may happily finish what you have begun. May Christ in +Heaven prosper what is under your Hand. May what you have begun end +happily. May what you are set about end happily. You are about a good +Work, I wish you a good End of it, and that propitious Heaven may favour +your pious Undertakings. Christ give Prosperity to your Enterprise. May +what you have undertaken prosper. I heartily beg of Almighty God that +this Design may be as successful as it is honourable. May the Affair so +happily begun, more happily end. I wish you a good Journey to _Italy_, +and a better Return. I wish you a happy Voyage, and a more happy Return. +I pray God that, this Journey being happily perform'd, we may in a short +Time have the Opportunity of congratulating you upon your happy Return. +May it be your good Fortune to make a good Voyage thither and back +again. May your Journey be pleasant, but your Return more pleasant. I +wish this Journey may succeed according to your Heart's Desire. I wish +this Journey may be as pleasant to you, as the want of your good Company +in the mean Time will be troublesome to us. May you set Sail with +promising Presages. I wish this Journey may succeed according to both +our Wishes. I wish this Bargain may be for the Good and Advantage of us +both. I wish this may be a happy Match to us all. The blessed Jesus God +keep thee. Kind Heaven return you safe. God keep thee who art one Half +of my Life. I wish you a safe Return. I wish that this New-Year may +begin happily, go on more happily, and end most happily to you, and +that you may have many of them, and every Year happier than other. + +_Ans._ And I again wish you many happy Ages, that you mayn't wish well +to me _gratis_. + +_Sal._ I wish you a glorious Day to Day. May this Sun-rising be a happy +one to you. + +_Ans._ I wish you the same. May this be a happy and a prosperous Morning +to both of us. + +_Sal._ Father, I wish you a good Night. I wish you good Repose to Night. +May you sleep sweetly. God give you good Rest. May you sleep without +dreaming. God send you may either sleep sweetly or dream pleasantly. A +good Night to you. + +_Ans._ Since you always love to be on the getting Hand, I wish you a +thousand Happinesses to one you wish to me. + + * * * * * + +_Farewell at parting._ + +Fare ye all well. Farewell. Take care of your Health. Take a great Care +of your Health. I bid you good by, Time calls me away, fare ye well. I +wish you as well as may be. Farewell mightily, or if you had rather have +it so, lustily. Fare you well as you are worthy. Fare you as well as you +deserve. Farewell for these two Days. If you send me away, farewell till +to-morrow. Would you have any Thing with me? Have you any Thing else to +say to me? + +_Ans._ Nothing but to wish you well. + +_Sal._ Take Care to preserve your Health. Take Care of your Health. Look +well to your Health. See that at the next Meeting we see you merry and +hearty. I charge you make much of your self. See that you have a sound +Mind in a healthful Body. Take Care you be universally well both in Body +and Mind. + +_Ans._ I'll promise you I will do my Endeavour. Fare you well also; and +I again wish you prosperous Health. + +_Of saluting by another._ + +Remember my hearty Love to _Frobenius_. Be sure to remember my Love to +little _Erasmus_. Remember me to _Gertrude's_ Mother with all imaginable +Respect; tell them I wish 'em all well. Remember me to my old +Companions. Remember me to my Friends. Give my Love to my Wife. Remember +me to your Brother in your Letter. Remember my Love to my Kinsman. Have +you any Service to command by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Tell them I wish them all heartily well. + +_Sal._ Have you any Recommendations to send by me to your Friends? + +_Ans._ Much Health to them all, but especially to my Father. + +_Sal._ Are there any Persons to whom you would command me any Service? + +_Ans._ To all that ask how I do. The Health you have brought from my +Friends to me, carry back again with much Interest. Carry my hearty +Service to all them that have sent their Service to me. Pray do so much +as be my Representative in saluting my Friends. I would have written to +my Son in Law, but you will serve me instead of a Letter to him. + +_Sal._ Soho, soho, whither are you going so fast? + +_Ans._ Strait to _Louvain_. + +_Sal._ Stay a little, I have something to send by you. + +_Ans._ But it is inconvenient for a Footman to carry a Fardel? What is +it? + +_Sal._ That you recommend me to _Goclenius, Rutgerus, John Campensis_, +and all the Society of Trilinguists. + +_Ans._ If you put nothing into my Snapsack but Healths, I shall carry +them with Ease. + +_Sal._ And that you may not do that for nothing, I pray that Health may +be your Companion both going and coming back. + + +_How we ought to congratulate one that is return'd from a Journey._ + +We are glad you are come well Home. It is a Pleasure that you are come +Home safe. It is a Pleasure to us that you are come well Home. We +congratulate your happy Return. We give God Thanks that you are come +safe Home to us. The more uneasy we were at the Want of you, the more +glad we are to see you again. We congratulate you and ourselves too that +you are come Home to us alive and well. Your Return is the more pleasant +by how much it was less expected. + +_Ans._ I am glad too that as I am well myself I find you so. I am very +glad to find you in good Health. I should not have thought myself well +come Home if I had not found you well; but now I think myself safe, in +that I see you safe and in good Health. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking Questions at the first meeting._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy teaches Forms of enquiring at the first + meeting. Whence come you? What News bring you? How do you + do? &c._ + + +_GEORGE, LIVINUS._ + +_George._ Out of what Hen-Coop or Cave came you? + +_Liv._ Why do you ask me such a Question? + +_Ge._ Because you have been so poorly fed; you are so thin a Body may +see thro' you, and as dry as a Kecks. Whence came you from? + +_Liv._ From Montacute College. + +_Ge._ Then sure you are come loaden with Letters for us. + +_Liv._ Not so, but with Lice I am. + +_Ge._ Well then you had Company enough. + +_Liv._ In truth it is not safe for a Traveller now a Days to go without +Company. + +_Ge._ I know well enough a Louse is a Scholar's Companion. Well but do +you bring any News from _Paris_? + +_Liv._ Ay, I do, and that in the first Place that I know you won't +believe. At _Paris_ a _Bete_ is wise, and an _Oak_ preaches. + +_Ge._ What's that you tell me? + +_Liv._ That which you hear. + +_Ge._ What is it I hear? + +_Liv._ That which I tell you. + +_Ge._ O monstrous! Sure Mushrooms and Stones must be the Hearers where +there are such Preachers. + +_Liv._ Well, but it is even so as I tell you, nor do I speak only by +hear say, but what I know to be true. + +_Ge._ Sure Men must needs be very wise there where _Betes_ and _Oaks_ +are so. + +_Liv._ You are in the right on't. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring concerning Health._ + +_Ge._ Are you well? + +_Liv._ Look in my Face. + +_Ge._ Why do you not rather bid me cast your Water? Do you take me for a +Doctor? I don't ask you if you are in Health, for your Face bespeaks you +so to be; but I ask you how you like your own Condition? + +_Liv._ I am very well in my Body, but sick in my Mind. + +_Ge._ He's not well indeed that is sick in that Part. + +_Liv._ This is my Case, I'm well in my Body, but sick in my Pocket. + +_Ge._ Your Mother will easily cure that Distemper. How have you done for +this long Time? + +_Liv._ Sometimes better, and sometimes worse, as human Affairs commonly +go. + +_Ge._ Are you very well in health? Are your Affairs in a good +Condition? Are your Circumstances as you would have them? Have you +always had your Health well? + +_Liv._ Very well, I thank God. By God's Goodness I have always had my +Health very well. I have always been very well hitherto. I have been in +very good, favourable, secure, happy, prosperous, successful, perfect +Health, like a Prince, like a Champion, fit for any Thing. + +_Ge._ God send you may always enjoy the same. I am glad to hear it. You +give me a Pleasure in saying so. It is very pleasant to me to hear that. +I am glad at my Heart to hear this from you. This is no bad News to me. +I am exceeding glad to hear you say so. I wish you may be so always. I +wish you may enjoy the same Health as long as you live. In +congratulating you, I joy myself, Thanks to Heaven for it. + +_Li._ Indeed I am very well if you are so. + +_Ge._ Well, but have you met with no Trouble all this while? + +_Li._ None but the Want of your good Company. + +_Ge._ Well, but how do you do though? + +_Li._ Well enough, finely, bravely, very well as may be, very well +indeed, happily, commodiously, no Way amiss. I enjoy rather what Health +I wish, than what I deserved, Princely, Herculean, Champion-like. + +_Ge._ I was expecting when you would say Bull-like too. + + * * * * * + +_Of being Ill._ + +_Ge._ Are you in good Health? + +_Li._ I wish I were. Not altogether so well as I would be. Indeed I am +so, so. Pretty well. I am as well as I can be, since I can't be so well +as I would be. As I use to be. So as it pleases God. Truly not very +well. Never worse in all my Life. As I am wont to be. I am as they use +to be who have to do with the Doctor. + +_Ge._ How do you do? + +_Li._ Not as I would do. + +_Ge._ Why truly not well, ill, very ill, in an unhappy, unprosperous, +unfavourable, bad, adverse, unlucky, feeble, dubious, indifferent, State +of Health, not at all as I would, a tolerable, such as I would not wish +even to my Enemies. + +_Ge._ You tell me a melancholy Story. Heavens forbid it. God forbid. No +more of that I pray. I wish what you say were not true. But you must be +of good Chear, you must pluck up a good Heart. A good Heart is a good +Help in bad Circumstances. You must bear up your Mind with the Hope of +better Fortune. What Distemper is it? What Sort of Disease is it? What +Distemper is it that afflicts you? What Distemper are you troubled with? + +_Li._ I can't tell, and in that my Condition is the more dangerous. + +_Ge._ That's true, for when the Disease is known, it is half cured. Have +you had the Advice of any Doctor? + +_Li._ Ay, of a great many. + +_Ge._ What do they say to your Case? + +_Li._ What the Lawyers of _Demiphon_ (in the Play) said to him. One says +one Thing, another he says another, and the third he'll consider of it. +But they all agree in this, that I am in a sad Condition. + +_Ge._ How long have you been taken with this Illness? How long have you +been ill of this Distemper? How long has this Illness seiz'd you? + +_Li._ About twenty Days more or less, almost a Month. It's now near +three Months. It seems an Age to me since I was first taken ill. + +_Ge._ But I think you ought to take care that the Distemper don't grow +upon you. + +_Li._ It has grown too much upon me already. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dropsy? + +_Li._ They say it is not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Dissentery? + +_Li._ I think not. + +_Ge._ Is it a Fever? + +_Li._ I believe it is a Kind of Fever; but a new one, as ever and anon +new ones spring up that were unknown before. + +_Ge._ There were more old ones than enough before. + +_Li._ Thus it pleases Nature to deal with us, which is a little too +severe. + +_Ge._ How often does the Fit come? + +_Li._ How often do you say? Every Day, nay every Hour indeed. + +_Ge._ O wonderful! It is a sad Affliction. How did you get this +Distemper? How do you think you came by it? + +_Li._ By Reason of Want. + +_Ge._ Why you don't use to be so superstitious as to starve yourself +with Fasting. + +_Li._ It is not Bigotry but Penury. + +_Ge._ What do you mean by Penury? + +_Li._ I mean I could get no Victuals, I believe it came by a Cold. I +fancy I got the Distemper by eating rotten Eggs. By drinking too much +Water in my Wine. This Crudity in my Stomach came by eating green +Apples. + +_Ge._ But consider whether you han't contracted this Distemper by long +and late Studying, by hard Drinking, or immoderate use of Venery? Why +don't you send for a Doctor? + +_Li._ I am afraid he should do me more Harm than good. I am afraid he +should poison me instead of curing me. + +_Ge._ You ought to chuse one that you can confide in. + +_Li._ If I must dye, I had rather dye once for all, than to be tormented +with so many Slops. + +_Ge._ Well then, be your own Doctor. If you can't trust to a Doctor, +pray God be your Physician. There have been some that have recover'd +their Health, by putting on a Dominican or a Franciscan Fryars Cowl. + +_Li._ And perhaps it had been the same Thing, if they had put on a +Whore-master's Cloak. These things have no Effect upon those that have +no Faith in 'em. + +_Ge._ Why then, believe that you may recover. Some have been cur'd by +making Vows to a Saint. + +_Li._ But I have no Dealings with Saints. + +_Ge._ Then pray to Christ that you may have Faith, and that he would be +pleased to bestow the Blessing of Health upon you. + +_Li._ I can't tell whether it would be a Blessing or no. + +_Ge._ Why, is it not a Blessing to be freed from a Distemper? + +_Li._ Sometimes it is better to dye. I ask nothing of him, but only that +he'd give me what would be best for me. + +_Ge._ Take something to purge you. + +_Li._ I am laxative enough already. + +_Ge._ Take something to make you go to Stool. You must take a Purge. + +_Li._ I ought to take something that is binding rather, for I am too +laxative. + + * * * * * + +_Of enquiring of a Person upon his Return_. + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Of interrogating a Person returning from a Journey, + concerning War, private Affairs, a Disappointment, great + Promises, a Wife Lying-in, Dangers, Losses_, &c. + + +_George._ Have you had a good and prosperous Journey? + +_Li._ Pretty good; but that there is such Robbing every where. + +_Ge._ This is the Effect of War. + +_Li._ It is so, but it is a wicked one. + +_Ge._ Did you come on Foot or on Horse-back? + +_Li._ Part of the Way a Foot, Part in a Coach, Part on Horse-back, and +Part by Sea. + +_Ge._ How go Matters in _France?_ + +_Li._ All's in Confusion, there's nothing but War talk'd of. What +Mischiefs they may bring upon their Enemies I know not; but this I'm +sure of, the _French_ themselves are afflicted with unexpressible +Calamities. + +_Ge._ Whence come all these tumultuary Wars? + +_Li._ Whence should they come but from the Ambition of Monarchs? + +_Ge._ But it would be more their Prudence to appease these Storms of +human Affairs. + +_Li._ Appease 'em! Ay, so they do, as the South Wind does the Sea. They +fancy themselves to be Gods, and that the World was made for their +Sakes. + +_Ge._ Nay, rather a Prince was made for the Good of the Commonwealth, +and not the Commonwealth for the Sake of the Prince. + +_Li._ Nay, there are Clergymen too, who blow up the Coals, and sound an +Alarm to these Tumults. + +_Ge._ I'd have them set in the Front of the Battel. + +_Li._ Ay, ay, but they take Care to keep out of Harm's Way. + +_Ge._ But let us leave these publick Affairs to Providence. How go your +own Matters? + +_Li._ Very well, happily, indifferently well, tolerably. + +_Ge._ How goes it with your own Business? As you would have it? + +_Li._ Nay, better than I could have wish'd for, better than I deserve, +beyond what I could have hop'd for. + +_Ge._ Are all Things according to your Mind? Is all well? Has every +Thing succeeded? + +_Li._ It can't be worse. It is impossible it should be worse than it is. + +_Ge._ What then, han't you got what you sought for? Han't you caught the +Game you hunted? + +_Li._ Hunt! Ay, I did hunt indeed, but with very ill Success. + +_Ge._ But is there no Hope then? + +_Li._ Hope enough, but nothing else. + +_Ge._ Did the Bishop give you no Hopes? + +_Li._ Yes, whole Cart Loads, and whole Ship Loads of Hope; but nothing +else. + +_Ge._ Has he sent you nothing yet? + +_Li._ He promis'd me largely, but he has never sent me a Farthing. + +_Ge._ Then you must live in Hopes. + +_Li._ Ay, but that won't fill the Belly; they that feed upon Hope may be +said to hang, but not to live. + +_Ge._ But however then, you were the lighter for travelling, not having +your Pockets loaded. + +_Li._ I confess that, nay, and safer too; for an empty Pocket is the +best Defence in the World against Thieves; but for all that, I had +rather have the Burthen and the Danger too. + +_Ge._ You was not robb'd of any Thing by the Way, I hope? + +_Li._ Robb'd! What can you rob a Man of that has nothing? There was more +Reason for other Folks to be afraid of me, than I of them, having never +a Penny in my Pocket. I might sing and be starved all the Way I went. +Have you anything more to say? + +_Ge._ Where are you going now? + +_Li._ Strait Home, to see how all do there, whom I han't seen this long +Time. + +_Ge._ I wish you may find all well at Home. + +_Li._ I pray God I may. Has any Thing new happen'd at our House since I +went away? + +_Ge._ Nothing but only you'll find your Family bigger than it was; for +your _Catulla_ has brought you a little _Catulus_ since you have been +gone. Your Hen has laid you an Egg. + +_Li._ That's good News, I like your News, and I'll promise to give you a +Gospel for it. + +_Ge._ What Gospel? The Gospel according to St. _Matthew_? + +_Li._ No, but according to _Homer_. Here take it. + +_Ge._ Keep your Gospel to yourself, I have Stones enough at Home. + +_Li._ Don't slight my Present, it is the Eagle's Stone; It is good for +Women with Child; it is good to bring on their Labour. + +_Ge._ Say you so? Then it is a very acceptable Present to me, and I'll +endeavour to make you Amends. + +_Li._ The Amends is made already by your kind Acceptance. + +_Ge._ Nay, nothing in the World could come more seasonably, for my +Wife's Belly is up to her Mouth almost. + +_Li._ Then I'll make this Bargain with you; that if she has a Boy, you +will let me be the Godfather. + +_Ge._ Well I'll promise you that, and that you shall name it too. + +_Li._ I wish it may be for both our Good. + +_Ge._ Nay, for all our Good. + + * * * * * + +_MAURICE, CYPRIAN._ + +_Ma._ You are come back fatter than you used to be: You are returned +taller. + +_Cy._ But in Truth I had rather it had been wiser, or more learned. + +_Ma._ You had no Beard when you went away; but you have brought a little +one back with you. You are grown somewhat oldish since you went away. +What makes you look so pale, so lean, so wrinkled? + +_Cy._ As is my Fortune, so is the Habit of my Body. + +_Ma._ Has it been but bad then? + +_Cy._ She never is otherwise to me, but never worse in my Life than now. + +_Ma._ I am sorry for that. I am sorry for your Misfortune. But pray, +what is this Mischance? + +_Cy._ I have lost all my Money. + +_Ma._ What in the Sea? + +_Cy._ No, on Shore, before I went abroad. + +_Ma._ Where? + +_Cy._ Upon the _English_ Coast. + +_Ma._ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your +Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of +Money. + +_Cy._ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost. + +_Ma._ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation +very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or +another. But how came it about? + +_Cy._ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the +Devil would have it. + +_Ma._ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as +they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him +that carries them. + +_Cy._ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in +Perplexity. + + * * * * * + +_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS._ + +_Cl._ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_. + +_Ba._ And I to see you alive _Claudius_. + +_Cl._ You are welcome Home into your own Country again. + +_Ba._ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_. + +_Cl._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because they are all up in Arms there. + +_Cl._ But what have Scholars to do with Arms? + +_Ba._ But there they don't spare even Scholars. + +_Cl._ It is well you're got off safe. + +_Ba._ But I did not get off without Danger neither. + +_Cl._ You are come back quite another Man than you went away. + +_Ba._ How so? + +_Cl._ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man. + +_Ba._ Why, was I a Capon when I went away? + +_Cl._ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a +_French_ Man. + +_Ba._ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen. +But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_ +Man. + +_Cl._ Have you learn'd to speak _French?_ + +_Ba._ Indifferently well. + +_Cl._ How did you learn it? + +_Ba._ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you. + +_Cl._ From whom. + +_Ba._ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves. + +_Cl._ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce +the _French_ well? + +_Ba._ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode. + +_Cl._ Then you will never write good Verses. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Cl._ Because you'll make false Quantities. + +_Ba._ The Quality is enough for me. + +_Cl._ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague? + +_Ba._ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon +it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again. + +_Cl._ Is not War itself Plague enough? + +_Ba._ It is so, unless God thought otherwise. + +_Cl._ Sure Bread must be very dear there. + +_Ba._ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every +Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there. + +_Cl._ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the +_Germans_? + +_Ba._ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to +the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War. + +_Cl._ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert +ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a +little Business that calls me to another Place. + + + + +_FAMILY DISCOURSE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of + intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of + familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad, + and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking + concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure, + the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely + Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard, + &c._ + + +PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS. + +_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door? + +_Mi._ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be +some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast +brought? + +_Pe._ Myself. + +_Mi._ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth. + +_Pe._ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal. + +_Mi._ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again. + +_Pe._ But is _Jodocus_ at Home? + +_Mi._ I can't tell, but I'll go see. + +_Pe._ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now. + +_Mi._ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy. + +_Pe._ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home? + +_Jo._ No, I am not. + +_Pe._ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak? + +_Jo._ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it +lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself. + +_Pe._ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind. + +_Jo._ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body, +but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you. + +_Pe._ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail. + +_Jo._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a +lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows +to your Seat. + +_Jo._ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and +if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept +me from going abroad. + +_Pe._ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how +charming pleasant it is. + +_Jo._ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it. + +_Pe._ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine +Weather. + +_Jo._ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us. + +_Pe._ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then. + +_Jo._ What if we should get Hugh? + +_Pe._ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo._ + +_Jo._ Come on then, I like it mighty well. + +_Pe._ What if we should call _Alardus?_ + +_Jo._ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll +make up in Talking. + +_Pe._ If you will, we'll get _Naevius_ along with us too. + +_Jo._ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the +Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place. + +_Pe._ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a +Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of +Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves. + +_Jo._ You promise nobly. + +_Pe._ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your +Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study. + +_Jo._ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love. + +_Pe._ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live +pleasantly. + +_Jo._ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study. + +_Pe._ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to +Death. + +_Pe._ Has this Walk pleas'd you? + +_Jo._ It has been a charming pleasant one. + + + * * * * * + + +_2. GILES, LEONARD._ + + +_Gi._ Where is our Leonard a going? + +_Le._ I was coming to you. + +_Gi._ That you do but seldom. + +_Le._ Why so? + +_Gi._ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months. + +_Le._ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome. + +_Gi._ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the +oftner you come the more welcome you are. + +_Le._ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House. + +_Gi._ Why truly not many Things as I would have them. + +_Le._ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet? + +_Gi._ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too. + +_Le._ How, two at once! + +_Gi._ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again. + +_Le._ That's the Way to increase your Family. + +_Gi._ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife +does my Family. + +_Le._ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet? + +_Gi._ No, not yet. + +_Le._ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a +great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her. + +_Gi._ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already. + +_Le._ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like +the best of them? + +_Gi._ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my +Daughter won't hear of marrying. + +_Le._ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for +some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for +Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While. + +_Gi._ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's +in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old. + +_Le._ But why is she averse to Marriage? + +_Gi._ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ. + +_Le._ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil +Genius that lives chastly with a Husband? + +_Gi._ I don't think so. + +_Le._ How came that Whimsey into her Head? + +_Gi._ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that +can be said to her. + +_Le._ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or +draw her away. + +_Gi._ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of +Cattel as far from my House as I can. + +_Le._ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have +her Humour? + +_Gi._ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter +her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her +Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight +against the Monks. + +_Le._ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her +Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is +too late. + +_Gi._ I'll do my utmost Endeavours. + +_Le._ What Employment do your Sons follow? + +_Gi._ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father +in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did +nothing but play while he was here. + +_Le._ Why did you send him thither? + +_Gi._ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went. + +_Le._ Don't talk so. + +_Gi._ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders. + +_Le._ I wish 'em all well. + + * * * * * + +3. _MOPSUS, DROMO._ + +_Mo._ How is it? What are you doing Dromo? + +_Dr._ I'm sitting still. + +_Mo._ I see that; but how do Matters go with you? + +_Dr._ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons. + +_Mo._ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing? + +_Dr._ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all. + +_Mo._ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I +interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence? + +_Dr._ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being +alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion. + +_Mo._ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some +Business? + +_Dr._ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle. + +_Mo._ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably. + +_Dr._ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I +was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company. + +_Mo._ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no +means interrupt or hinder? + +_Dr._ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil +and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you. + +_Mo._ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I +came along. + +_Dr._ Which Ear was it? + +_Mo._ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me. + +_Dr._ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said. + +_Mo._ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you? + +_Dr._ They say you are become a Huntsman. + +_Mo._ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I +have been hunting after. + +_Dr._ What Game is it? + +_Mo._ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat +you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding. + +_Dr._ Pray, who is your Bride? + +_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_. + +_Dr._ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy +that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature. + +_Mo._ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not +you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you, +the more she'll please me. + + * * * * * + +4. _SYRUS, GETA._ + +_Sy._ I wish you much Happiness. + +_Ge._ And I wish you double what you wish me. + +_Sy._ What are you doing? + +_Ge._ I am talking. + +_Sy._ What! By yourself? + +_Ge._ As you see. + +_Sy._ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see +to it that you talk to an honest Man. + +_Ge._ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion. + +_Sy._ With whom? + +_Ge._ With _Apuleius_. + +_Sy._ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love +Intermission; you study continually. + +_Ge._ I am never tired with Study. + +_Sy._ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought +not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are +not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid +aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer +Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else +but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books. +You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a +studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon +your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give +yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission +in, nor ever give over studying. + +_Ge._ Very well! This is like you. You banter me as you use to do. You +make a Game of me. You joke upon me. You satyrize me. You treat me with +a Sneer. I see how you jeer me well enough. You only jest with me. I am +your Laughing-stock. I am laugh'd at by you. You make yourself merry +with me. You make a meer Game and Sport of me. Why don't you put me on +Asses Ears too? My Books, that are all over dusty and mouldy, shew how +hard a Studier I am. + +_Sy._ Let me die if I don't speak my Mind. Let me perish if I don't +speak as I think. Let me not live if I dissemble. I speak what I think. +I speak the Truth. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +nothing but what I think. + + * * * * * + +_Why don't you come to see me_? + +_Ge._ What's the Matter you ha'n't come to see me all this While? What's +the Matter you visit me so seldom? What has happen'd to you that you +never have come at me for so long Time? Why are you so seldom a Visitor? +What is the Meaning that you never come near one for so long Time? What +has hinder'd you that you have come to see me no oftner? What has +prevented you that you have never let me have the Opportunity of seeing +you for this long Time? + + * * * * * + +_I could not by Reason of Business._ + +_Sy._ I had not Leisure. I would have come, but I could not for my +Business. Business would not permit me hitherto to come to see you. +These Floods of Business that I have been plung'd in would not permit me +to pay my Respects to you. I have been so busy I could not come. I have +been harass'd with so many vexatious Matters that I could not get an +Opportunity. I have been so taken up with a troublesome Business that I +could never have so much Command of myself. You must impute it to my +Business, and not to me. It was not for Want of Will, but Opportunity. I +could not get Time till now. I have had no Time till now. I never have +had any Leisure till this Time. I have been so ill I could not come. I +could not come, the Weather has been so bad. + +_Ge._ Indeed I accept of your Excuse, but upon this Condition, that you +don't make use of it often. If Sickness has been the Occasion of your +Absence, your Excuse is juster than I wish it had been; I'll excuse you +upon this Condition, that you make Amends for your Omission by Kindness, +if you make up your past Neglect by your future frequent Visits. + +_Sy._ You don't esteem these common Formalities. Our Friendship is more +firm than to need to be supported by such vulgar Ceremonies. He visits +often enough that loves constantly. + +_Ge._ A Mischief take those Incumbrances that have depriv'd us of your +Company. I can't tell what to wish for bad enough to those Affairs that +have envy'd us the Company of so good a Friend. A Mischief take that +Fever that hath tormented us so long with the Want of you. I wish that +Fever may perish, so thou thyself wert but safe. + + * * * * * + +_Of Commanding and Promising._ + +_JAMES, SAPIDUS._ + +_Ja._ I pray you take a special Care of this Matter. I earnestly intreat +you to take Care of this Affair. If you have any Respect for me, pray +manage this Affair diligently. Pray be very careful in this Affair. Pray +take a great Deal of Care about this Business for my Sake. If you are +indeed the Man I always took you to be, let me see in this Concern what +Esteem you have for me. + +_Sa._ Say no more, I'll dispatch this Affair for you, and that very +shortly too. I can't indeed warrant you what the Event shall be, but +this I promise you, that neither Fidelity nor Industry shall be wanting +in me. I will take more Care of it than if it were mine own Affair; tho' +indeed that which is my Friend's I account as my own. I will so manage +the Affair, that whatever is wanting, Care and Diligence shall not be +wanting. Take you no Care about the Matter, I'll do it for you. Do you +be easy, I'll take the Management of it upon myself. I am glad to have +an Opportunity put into my Hand of shewing you my Respect. I do not +promise you in Words, but I will in Reality perform whatsoever is to be +expected from a real Friend, and one that heartily wishes you well. I +won't bring you into a Fool's Paradise. I'll do that which shall give +you Occasion to say you trusted the Affair to a Friend. + + * * * * * + +_Success._ + +_Sa._ The Matter succeeded better than I could have expected. Fortune +has favour'd both our Wishes. If Fortune had been your Wife she could +not have been more observant to you. Your Affair went on bravely with +Wind and Tide. Fortune has out-done our very Wishes. You must needs be a +Favourite of Fortune, to whom all Things fall out just as you would have +them. I have obtain'd more than I could presume to wish for. This +Journey has been perform'd from Beginning to End with all the fortunate +Circumstances imaginable. The whole Affair has fallen out according to +our Wish. This Chance fell out happily for us. I think we have been +lucky to Admiration, that what has been so imprudently enterpriz'd, has +so happily succeeded. + + * * * * * + +_A giving one Thanks._ + +_Ja._ Indeed I thank you, and shall thank you heartily as long as I live +for that good Service you have done me. I can scarce give you the Thanks +you deserve, and shall never be able to make you Amends. I see how much +I am oblig'd to you for your Kindness to me. Indeed I don't wonder at +it, for it is no new Thing, and in that I am the more oblig'd to you. My +_Sapidus_ I do, and it is my Duty to love you heartily for your Kindness +to me. In as much as in this Affair you have not acted the Part of a +Courtier, I do, and always shall thank you. I respect you, and thank +you, that you made my Affair your Care. You have oblig'd me very much by +that Kindness of yours. It is a great Obligation upon me that you have +manag'd my Concern with Fidelity. Of all your Kindnesses, which are +indeed a great many, you have shew'd me none has oblig'd me more than +this. I cannot possibly make you a Return according to your Merit Too +much Ceremony between you and I is unnecessary, but that which is in my +Power I'll do. I'll be thankful as long as I live. I confess myself +highly oblig'd to you for your good Service. For this Kindness I owe you +more than I am able to pay. By this good Office you have attach'd me to +you so firmly, that I can never be able to disengage myself. You have +laid me under so many and great Obligations, that I shall never be able +to get out of your Debt. No Slave was ever so engag'd in Duty to his +Master as you have engag'd me by this Office. You have by this good Turn +brought me more into your Debt than ever I shall be able to pay. I am +oblig'd to you upon many Accounts, but upon none more than upon this. +Thanks are due for common Kindness, but this is beyond the Power of +Thanks to retaliate. + + * * * * * + +_The Answer._ + +_Sa._ Forbear these Compliments, the Friendship between you and I is +greater than that we should thank one another for any Service done. I +have not bestow'd this Kindness upon you, but only made a Return of it +to you. I think the Amends is sufficiently made, if my most sedulous +Endeavours are acceptable to you. There is no Reason you should thank me +for repaying this small Kindness, for those uncommon Kindnesses I have +so often receiv'd from you. Indeed I merit no Praise, but should have +been the most ungrateful Man in the World if I had been wanting to my +Friend. Whatsoever I have, and whatsoever I can do, you may call as +much your own as any Thing that you have the best Title to. I look upon +it as a Favour that you take my Service kindly. You pay so great an +Acknowledgment to me for so small a Kindness, as tho' I did not owe you +much greater. He serves himself that serves his Friend. He that serves a +Friend does not give away his Service, but puts it out to Interest. If +you approve of my Service, pray make frequent Use of it; then I shall +think my Service is acceptable, if as often as you have Occasion for it +you would not request but command it. + + + + +_OF RASH VOWS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats chiefly of three Things, 1. Of the + superstitious Pilgrimages of some Persons to_ Jerusalem, + _and other holy Places, under Pretence of Devotion. 2. + That Vows are not to be made rashly over a Pot of Ale: + but that Time, Expence and Pains ought to be employ d + otherwise, in such Matters as have a real Tendency to + promote trite Piety. 3. Of the Insignificancy and + Absurdity of Popish Indulgencies_. + + +ARNOLDUS, CORNELIUS. + +_ARNOLDUS._ O! _Cornelius_, well met heartily, you have been lost this +hundred Years. + +_Co._ What my old Companion _Arnoldus_, the Man I long'd to see most of +any Man in the World! God save you. + +_Ar._ We all gave thee over for lost. But prithee where hast been +rambling all this While? + +_Co._ In t'other World. + +_Ar._ Why truly a Body would think so by thy slovenly Dress, lean +Carcase, and ghastly Phyz. + +_Co._ Well, but I am just come from _Jerusalem_, not from the _Stygian_ +Shades. + +_Ar._ What Wind blew thee thither? + +_Co._ What Wind blows a great many other Folks thither? + +_Ar._ Why Folly, or else I am mistaken. + +_Co._ However, I am not the only Fool in the World. + +_Ar._ What did you hunt after there? + +_Co._ Why Misery. + +_Ar._ You might have found that nearer Home. But did you meet with any +Thing worth seeing there? + +_Co._ Why truly, to speak ingenuously, little or nothing. They shew us +some certain Monuments of Antiquity, which I look upon to be most of 'em +Counterfeits, and meer Contrivances to bubble the Simple and Credulous. +I don't think they know precisely the Place that _Jerusalem_ anciently +stood in. + +_Ar._ What did you see then? + +_Co._ A great deal of Barbarity every where. + +_Ar._ But I hope you are come back more holy than you went. + +_Co._ No indeed, rather ten Times worse. + +_Ar._ Well, but then you are richer? + +_Co._ Nay, rather poorer than _Job_. + +_Ar._ But don't you repent you have taken so long a Journey to so little +Purpose? + +_Co._ No, nor I am not asham'd neither, I have so many Companions of my +Folly to keep me in Countenance; and as for Repentance, it's too late +now. + +_Ar._ What! do you get no Good then by so dangerous a Voyage? + +_Co._ Yes, a great Deal. + +_Ar._ What is it? + +_Co._ Why, I shall live more pleasantly for it for Time to come. + +_Ar._ What, because you'll have the Pleasure of telling old Stories when +the Danger is over? + +_Co._ That is something indeed, but that is not all. + +_Ar._ Is there any other Advantage in it besides that? + +_Co._ Yes, there is. + +_Ar._ What is it? Pray tell me. + +_Co._ Why, I can divert myself and Company, as oft as I have a Mind to +it, in romancing upon my Adventures over a Pot of Ale, or a good Dinner. + +_Ar._ Why, truly that is something, as you say. + +_Co._ And besides, I shall take as much Pleasure myself when I hear +others romancing about Things they never heard nor saw; nay, and that +they do with that Assurance, that when they are telling the most +ridiculous and impossible Things in Nature, they persuade themselves +they are speaking Truth all the While. + +_Ar._ This is a wonderful Pleasure. Well then, you have not lost all +your Cost and Labour, as the Saying is. + +_Co._ Nay, I think this is something better still than what they do, +who, for the sake of little Advance-money, list themselves for Soldiers +in the Army, which is the Nursery of all Impiety. + +_Ar._ But it is an ungentleman-like Thing to take Delight in telling +Lies. + +_Co._ But it is a little more like a Gentleman than either to delight +others, or be delighted in slandering other Persons, or lavishing away a +Man's Time or Substance in Gaming. + +_Ar._ Indeed I must be of your Mind in that. + +_Co._ But then there is another Advantage. + +_Ar._ What is that? + +_Co._ If there shall be any Friend that I love very well, who shall +happen to be tainted with this Phrensy, I will advise him to stay at +Home; as your Mariners that have been cast away, advise them that are +going to Sea, to steer clear of the Place where they miscarried. + +_Ar._ I wish you had been my Moniter in Time. + +_Co._ What Man! Have you been infected with this Disease too? + +_Ar._ Yes, I have been at _Rome_ and _Compostella_. + +_Co._ Good God! how I am pleas'd that you have been as great a Fool as +I! What _Pallas_ put that into your Head? + +_Ar._ No _Pallas_, but _Moria_ rather, especially when I left at Home a +handsome young Wife, several Children, and a Family, who had nothing in +the World to depend upon for a Maintenance but my daily Labour. + +_Co._ Sure it must be some important Reason that drew you away from all +these engaging Relations. Prithee tell me what it was. + +_Ar._ I am asham'd to tell it. + +_Co._ You need not be asham'd to tell me, who, you know, have been sick +of the same Distemper. + +_Ar._ There was a Knot of Neighbours of us drinking together, and when +the Wine began to work in our Noddles, one said he had a Mind to make a +Visit to St. _James_, and another to St. _Peter_; presently there was +one or two that promis'd to go with them, till at last it was concluded +upon to go all together; and I, that I might not seem a disagreeable +Companion, rather than break good Company, promised to go too. The next +Question was, whether we should go to _Rome_ or _Compostella_? Upon the +Debate it was determin'd that we should all, God willing, set out the +next Day for both Places. + +_Co._ A grave Decree, fitter to be writ in Wine than engrav'd in Brass. + +_Ar._ Presently a Bumper was put about to our good Journey, which when +every Man had taken off in his Turn, the Vote passed into an Act, and +became inviolable. + +_Co._ A new Religion! But did you all come safe back? + +_Ar._ All but three, one dy'd by the Way, and gave us in Charge to give +his humble Service to _Peter_ and _James_; another dy'd at _Rome_, who +bad us remember him to his Wife and Children; and the third we left at +_Florence_ dangerously ill, and I believe he is in Heaven before now. + +_Co._ Was he so good a Man then? + +_Ar._ The veriest Droll in Nature. + +_Co._ Why do you think he is in Heaven then? + +_Ar._ Because he had a whole Satchel full of large Indulgencies. + +_Co._ I understand you, but it is a long Way to Heaven, and a very +dangerous one too, as I am told, by reason of the little Thieves that +infest the middle Region of the Air. + +_Ar._ That's true, but he was well fortify'd with Bulls. + +_Co._ What Language were they written in? + +_Ar._ In _Latin_. + +_Co._ And will they secure him? + +_Ar._ Yes, unless he should happen upon some Spirit that does not +understand _Latin_, in that Case he must go back to _Rome_, and get a +new Passport. + +_Co._ Do they sell Bulls there to dead Men too? + +_Ar._ Yes. + +_Co._ But by the Way, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, for +now there are a great many Spies abroad. + +_Ar._ I don't speak slightingly of Indulgencies themselves, but I laugh +at the Folly of my fuddling Companion, who tho' he was the greatest +Trifler that ever was born, yet chose rather to venture the whole Stress +of his Salvation upon a Skin of Parchment than upon the Amendment of his +Life. But when shall we have that merry Bout you spoke of just now? + +_Co._ When Opportunity offers we'll set a Time for a small Collation, +and invite some of our Comrades, there we will tell Lies, who can lye +fastest, and divert one another with Lies till we have our Bellies full. + +_Ar._ Come on, a Match. + + + + +_OF BENEFICE-HUNTERS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _In this Colloquy those Persons are reprehended that run + to and again to_ Rome _hunting after Benefices, and that + oftentimes with the Hazard of the Corruption of their + Morals, and the Loss of their Money. The Clergy are + admonished to divert themselves with reading of good + Books, rather than with a Concubine. Jocular Discourse + concerning a long Nose_. + + +PAMPHAGUS, COCLES. + +_PAM._ Either my Sight fails me, or this is my old Pot-Companion +_Cocles_. + +_Co._ No, no, your Eyes don't deceive you at all, you see a Companion +that is yours heartily. Nobody ever thought to have seen you again, you +have been gone so many Years, and no Body knew what was become of you. +But whence come you from? Prithee tell me. + +_Pa._ From the _Antipodes_. + +_Co._ Nay, but I believe you are come from the fortunate Islands. + +_Pa._ I am glad you know your old Companion, I was afraid I should come +home as _Ulysses_ did. + +_Co._ Why pray? After what Manner did he come Home? + +_Pa._ His own Wife did not know him; only his Dog, being grown very old, +acknowledg'd his Master, by wagging his Tail. + +_Co._ How many Years was he from Home? + +_Pa._ Twenty. + +_Co._ You have been absent more than twenty Years, and yet I knew your +Face again. But who tells that Story of _Ulysses_? + +_Pa._ _Homer._ + +_Co._ He? They say he's the Father of all fabulous Stories. It may be +his Wife had gotten herself a Gallant in the mean time, and therefore +did not know her own _Ulysses_. + +_Pa._ No, nothing of that, she was one of the chastest Women in the +World. But _Pallas_ had made _Ulysses_ look old, that he might not be +known. + +_Co._ How came he to be known at last? + +_Pa._ By a little Wart that he had upon one of his Toes. His Nurse, who +was now a very old Woman, took Notice of that as she was washing his +Feet. + +_Co._ A curious old Hagg. Well then, do you admire that I know you that +have so remarkable a Nose. + +_Pa._ I am not at all sorry for this Nose. + +_Co._ No, nor have you any Occasion to be sorry for having a Thing that +is fit for so many Uses. + +_Pa._ For what Uses? + +_Co._ First of all, it will serve instead of an Extinguisher, to put out +Candles. + +_Pa._ Go on. + +_Co._ Again, if you want to draw any Thing out of a deep Pit, it will +serve instead of an Elephant's Trunk. + +_Pa._ O wonderful. + +_Co._ If your Hands be employ'd, it will serve instead of a Pin. + +_Pa._ Is it good for any Thing else? + +_Co._ If you have no Bellows, it will serve to blow the Fire. + +_Pa._ This is very pretty; have you any more of it? + +_Co._ If the Light offends you when you are writing, it will serve for +an Umbrella. + +_Pa._ Ha, ha, ha! Have you any Thing more to say? + +_Co._ In a Sea-fight it will serve for a Grappling-hook. + +_Pa._ What will it serve for in a Land-fight? + +_Co._ Instead of a Shield. + +_Pa._ And what else? + +_Co._ It will serve for a Wedge to cleave Wood withal. + +_Pa._ Well said. + +_Co._ If you act the Part of a Herald, it will be for a Trumpet; if you +sound an Alarm, a Horn; if you dig, a Spade; if you reap, a Sickle; if +you go to Sea, an Anchor; in the Kitchen it will serve for a Flesh-hook; +and in Fishing a Fish-hook. + +_Pa._ I am a happy Fellow indeed, I did not know I carry'd about me a +Piece of Houshold Stuff that would serve for so many Uses. + +_Co._ But in the mean Time, in what Corner of the Earth have you hid +yourself all this While? + +_Pa._ In _Rome_. + +_Co._ But is it possible that in so publick a Place no Body should know +you were alive? + +_Pa._ Good Men are no where in the World so much _incognito_ as there, +so that in the brightest Day you shall scarce see one in a throng'd +Market. + +_Co._ Well, but then you're come home loaden with Benefices. + +_Pa._ Indeed I hunted after them diligently, but I had no Success; for +the Way of Fishing there is according to the Proverb, with a golden +Hook. + +_Co._ That's a foolish Way of Fishing. + +_Pa._ No Matter for that, some Folks find it a very good Way. + +_Co._ Are they not the greatest Fools in Nature that change Gold for +Lead? + +_Pa._ But don't you know that there are Veins of Gold in holy Lead? + +_Co._ What then! Are you come back nothing but a _Pamphagus_? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Co._ What then, pray? + +_Pa._ A ravenous Wolf. + +_Co._ But they make a better Voyage of it, that return laden with +Budgets full of Benefices. Why had you rather have a Benefice than a +Wife? + +_Pa._ Because I love to live at Ease. I love to live a pleasant Life. + +_Co._ But in my Opinion they live the most pleasant Life that have at +Home a pretty Girl, that they may embrace as often as they have a Mind +to it. + +_Pa._ And you may add this to it, sometimes when they have no Mind to +it. I love a continual Pleasure; he that marries a Wife is happy for a +Month, but he that gets a fat Benefice lives merrily all his Life. + +_Co._ But Solitude is so melancholy a Life, that _Adam_, in _Paradise_ +could not have liv'd happily unless God had given him an _Eve_. + +_Pa._ He'll ne'er need to want an _Eve_ that has gotten a good Benefice. + +_Co._ But that Pleasure can't really be call'd Pleasure that carries an +ill Name and bad Conscience with it. + +_Pa._ You say true, and therefore I design to divert the Tediousness of +Solitude by a Conversation with Books. + +_Co._ They are the pleasantest Companions in the World. But do you +intend to return to your Fishing again? + +_Pa._ Yes, I would, if I could get a fresh Bait. + +_Co._ Would you have a golden one or a silver one? + +_Pa._ Either of them. + +_Co._ Be of good Cheer, your Father will supply you. + +_Pa._ He'll part with nothing; and especially he'll not trust me again, +when he comes to understand I have spent what I had to no Purpose. + +_Co._ That's the Chance of the Dice. + +_Pa._ But he don't like those Dice. + +_Co._ If he shall absolutely deny you, I'll shew you where you may have +as much as you please. + +_Pa._ You tell me good News indeed, come shew it me, my Heart leaps for +Joy. + +_Co._ It is here hard by. + +_Pa._ Why, have you gotten a Treasure? + +_Co._ If I had, I would have it for myself, not for you. + +_Pa._ If I could but get together 100 Ducats I should be in Hopes again. + +_Co._ I'll shew you where you may have 100,000. + +_Pa._ Prithee put me out of my Pain then, and do not teaze me to Death. +Tell me where I may have it. + +_Co._ From the _Asse Budaei_, there you may find a great many Ten +Thousands, whether you'd have it Gold or Silver. + +_Pa._ Go and be hang'd with your Banter, I'll pay you what I owe you out +of that Bank. + +_Co._ Ay, so you shall, but it shall be what I lend you out of it. + +_Pa._ I know your waggish Tricks well enough. + +_Co._ I'm not to be compar'd to you for that. + +_Pa._ Nay, you are the veriest Wag in Nature, you are nothing but +Waggery; you make a Jest of a serious Matter. In this Affair it is far +easier Matter to teaze me than it is to please me. The Matter is of too +great a Consequence to be made a Jest on. If you were in my Case you +would not be so gamesome; you make a mere Game of me; you game and +banter me. You joke upon me in a Thing that is not a joking Matter. + +_Co._ I don't jeer you, I speak what I think. Indeed I do not laugh, I +speak my Mind. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak +sincerely. I speak the Truth. + +_Pa._ So may your Cap stand always upon your Head, as you speak +sincerely. But do I stand loitering here, and make no haste Home to see +how all Things go there? + +_Co._ You'll find a great many Things new. + +_Pa._ I believe I shall; but I wish I may find all Things as I would +have them. + +_Co._ We may all wish so if we will, but never any Body found it so yet. + + +_Pa._ Our Rambles will do us both this Good, that we shall like Home the +better for Time to come. + +_Co._ I can't tell that, for I have seen some that have play'd the same +Game over and over again; if once this Infection seizes a Person he +seldom gets rid of it. + + + + +_OF A SOLDIER'S LIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The wicked Life of Soldiers is here reprehended, and + shewn to be very miserable: That War is Confusion, and a + Sink of all manner of Vices, in as much as in it there is + no Distinction made betwixt Things sacred and profane. + The Hope of Plunder allures many to become Soldiers. The + Impieties of a Military Life are here laid open, by this + Confession of a Soldier, that Youth may be put out of + Conceit of going into the Army._ + + +HANNO, THRASYMACHUS. + +_Hanno._ How comes it about that you that went away a _Mercury_, come +back a _Vulcan_? + +_Thr._ What do you talk to me of your _Mercuries_ and your _Vulcans_ +for? + +_Ha._ Because you seem'd to be ready to fly when you went away, but +you're come limping Home. + +_Thr._ I'm come back like a Soldier then. + +_Ha._ You a Soldier, that would out-run a Stag if an Enemy were at your +Heels. + +_Thr._ The Hope of Booty made me valiant. + +_Ha._ Well, have you brought Home a good Deal of Plunder then? + +_Thr._ Empty Pockets. + +_Ha._ Then you were the lighter for travelling. + +_Thr._ But I was heavy loaden with Sin. + +_Ha._ That's heavy Luggage indeed, if the Prophet says right, who calls +Sin Lead. + +_Thr._ I have seen and had a Hand in more Villanies this Campaign than +in the whole Course of my Life before. + +_Ha._ How do you like a Soldier's Life? + +_Thr._ There is no Course of Life in the. World more wicked or more +wretched. + +_Ha._ What then must be in the Minds of those People, that for the Sake +of a little Money, and some out of Curiosity, make as much Haste to a +Battel as to a Banquet? + +_Thr._ In Truth, I can think no other but they are possess'd; for if the +Devil were not in them they would never anticipate their Fate. + +_Ha._ So one would think, for if you'd put 'em upon any honest Business, +they'll scarce stir a Foot in it for any Money. But tell me, how went +the Battel? Who got the better on't? + +_Thr._ There was such a Hallooing, Hurly-burly, Noise of Guns, Trumpets +and Drums, Neighing of Horses, and Shouting of Men, that I was so far +from knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I was +myself. + +_Ha._ How comes it about then that others, after a Fight is over, do +paint you out every Circumstance so to the Life, and tell you what such +an Officer said, and what t'other did, as tho' they had been nothing but +Lookers on all the Time, and had been every where at the same Time? + +_Thr._ It is my Opinion that they lye confoundedly. I can tell you what +was done in my own Tent, but as to what was done in the Battel, I know +nothing at all of that. + +_Ha._ Don't you know how you came to be lame neither? + +_Thr._ Scarce that upon my Honour, but I suppose my Knee was hurt by a +Stone, or a Horse-heel, or so. + +_Ha._ Well, but I can tell you. + +_Thr._ You tell me? Why, has any Body told you? + +_Ha._ No, but I guess. + +_Thr._ Tell me then. + +_Ha._ When you were running away in a Fright, you fell down and hit it +against a Stone. + +_Thr._ Let me die if you han't hit the Nail on the Head. + +_Ha._ Go, get you Home, and tell your Wife of your Exploits. + +_Thr._ She'll read me a Juniper-Lecture for coming Home in such a +Pickle. + +_Ha._ But what Restitution will you make for what you have stolen? + +_Thr._ That's made already. + +_Ha._ To whom? + +_Thr._ Why, to Whores, Sutlers, and Gamesters. + +_Ha._ That's like a Soldier for all the World, it's but just that what's +got over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly. + +_Ha._ But I hope you have kept your Fingers all this While from +Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ There's nothing sacred in Hostility, there we neither spare +private Houses nor Churches. + +_Ha._ How will you make Satisfaction? + +_Thr._ They say there is no Satisfaction to be made for what is done in +War, for all Things are lawful there. + +_Ha._ You mean by the Law of Arms, I suppose? + +_Thr._ You are right. + +_Ha._ But that Law is the highest Injustice. It was not the Love of your +Country, but the Love of Booty that made you a Soldier. + +_Thr._ I confess so, and I believe very few go into the Army with any +better Design. + +_Ha._ It is indeed some Excuse to be mad with the greater Part of +Mankind. + +_Thr._ I have heard a Parson say in his Pulpit that War was lawful. + +_Ha._ Pulpits indeed are the Oracles of Truth. But War may be lawful for +a Prince, and yet not so for you. + +_Thr._ I have heard that every Man must live by his Trade. + +_Ha._ A very honourable Trade indeed to burn Houses, rob Churches, +ravish Nuns, plunder the Poor, and murder the Innocent! + +_Thr._ Butchers are hired to kill Beasts; and why is our Trade found +Fault with who are hired to kill Men? + +_Ha._ But was you never thoughtful what should become of your Soul if +you happen'd to be kill'd in the Battel? + +_Thr._ Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my Mind, having once +for all commended myself to St. _Barbara_. + +_Ha._ And did she take you under her Protection? + +_Thr._ I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little Nod. + +_Ha._ What Time was it? In the Morning? + +_Thr._ No, no, 'twas after Supper. + +_Ha._ And by that Time I suppose the Trees seem'd to walk too? + +_Thr._ How this Man guesses every Thing! But St. _Christopher_ was the +Saint I most depended on, whose Picture I had always in my Eye. + +_Ha._ What in your Tent? + +_Thr._ We had drawn him with Charcoal upon our Sail-cloth. + +_Thr._ Then to be sure that _Christopher_ the Collier was a sure Card to +trust to? But without jesting, I don't see how you can expect to be +forgiven all these Villanies, unless you go to _Rome_. + +_Thr._ Yes, I can, I know a shorter Way than that. + +_Ha._ What Way is that? + +_Thr._ I'll go to the _Dominicans_, and there I can do my Business with +the Commissaries for a Trifle. + +_Ha._ What, for Sacrilege? + +_Thr._ Ay, if I had robb'd Christ himself, and cut off his Head +afterwards, they have Pardons would reach it, and Commissions large +enough to compound for it. + +_Ha._ That is well indeed, if God should ratify your Composition. + +_Thr._ Nay, I am rather afraid the Devil should not ratify it; God is of +a forgiving Nature. + +_Ha._ What Priest will you get you? + +_Thr._ One that I know has but little Modesty or Honesty. + +_Ha._ Like to like. And when that's over, you'll go strait away to the +Communion, like a good Christian, will you not? + +_Thr._ Why should I not? For after I have once discharg'd the Jakes of +my Sins into his Cowl, and unburden'd myself of my Luggage, let him look +to it that absolv'd me. + +_Ha._ But how can you be sure that he does absolve you? + +_Thr._ I know that well enough. + +_Ha._ How do you know it? + +_Thr._ Because he lays his Hand upon my Head and mutters over something, +I don't know what. + +_Ha._ What if he should give you all your Sins again when he lays his +Hand upon your Head, and these should be the Words he mutters to +himself? _I absolve thee from all thy good Deeds, of which I find few or +none in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted Manners, and leave thee just +as I found thee_. + +_Thr._ Let him look to what he says, it is enough for me that I believe +I am absolv'd. + +_Ha._ But you run a great Hazard by that Belief, for perhaps that will +not be Satisfaction to God, to whom thou art indebted. + +_Thr._ Who a Mischief put you in my Way to disturb my Conscience, which +was very quiet before? + +_Ha._ Nay, I think it is a very happy Encounter to meet a Friend that +gives good Advice. + +_Thr._ I can't tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not very +pleasant. + + + + +_The COMMANDS OF A MASTER._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of the Commands of a Master, and + the Business of a Servant, 1. The Master calls up his + sleepy Servant, commands him to set the House to rights; + the Servant answers again, that he speaks not a Word + about Dinner, &c. 2. Of sending him on various Errands. + 3. Concerning Riding_. + + +1. _Of calling up the Sleeper._ + + +RABANUS, SYRUS. + +_RA._ Soho, soho, Rascal, I am hoarse a bawling to you, and you lye +snoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; either +get up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will you +have slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepy +Sot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon as +it is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Master +rises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Hour +a scratching, and stretching, and yawning. + +_Sy._ It is scarce Day yet. + +_Ra._ I believe not to you; it is Midnight yet to your Eyes. + +_Sy._ What do you want me to do? + +_Ra._ Make the Fire burn, brush my Cap and Cloke, clean my Shoes and +Galloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush them +well, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweeten +the Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before a +clear Fire. + +_Sy._ It shall be done Sir. + +_Ra._ But make Haste then, all this ought to have been done before now. + +_Sy._ I do make Haste Sir. + +_Ra._ I see what Haste you make, you are never the forwarder, you go a +Snail's Gallop. + +_Sy._ Sir, I cannot do two Things at once. + +_Ra._ You Scoundrel, do you speak Sentences too? Take away the +Chamber-Pot, lay the Bed-Clothes to Rights, draw back the Curtains, +sweep the House, sweep the Chamber-floor, fetch me some Water to wash my +Hands. What are you a sliving about you Drone? You are a Year a lighting +a Candle. + +_Sy._ I can't find a Spark of Fire. + +_Ra._ Is it so you rak'd it up last Night? + +_Sy._ I have no Bellows. + +_Ra._ How the Knave thwarts me, as if he that has you can want Bellows. + +_Sy._ What an imperious Master have I gotten! Ten of the nimblest +Fellows in the World are scarce sufficient to perform his Orders. + +_Ra._ What's that you say you slow-Back? + +_Sy._ Nothing at all, Sir. + +_Ra._ No, Sirrah, did I not hear you mutter? + +_Sy._ I was saying my Prayers. + +_Ra._ Ay, I believe so, but it was the Lord's-Prayer backwards then. +Pray, what was that you were chattering about Imperiousness? + +_Sy._ I was wishing you might be an Emperor. + +_Ra._ And I wish you may be made a Man of a Stump of a Tree. Wait upon +me to Church, and then run Home and make the Bed, and put every Thing in +its Place; let the House be set to Rights from Top to Bottom, rub the +Chamber-Pot, put these foul Things out of Sight, perhaps I may have +some Gentry come to pay me a Visit; if I find any Thing out of Order +I'll thresh you soundly. + +_Sy._ I know your good Humour well enough in that Matter. + +_Ra._ Then it behoves you to look about you, if you are wise. + +_Sy._ But all this while here is not one Word about Dinner. + +_Ra._ Out you Villain, one may see what your Mind runs on. I don't dine +at Home, therefore come to me a little before Ten a-Clock, that you may +wait upon me where I am to go to Dinner. + +_Sy._ You have taken Care of yourself, but there is not a Bit of Bread +for me to put into my Head. + +_Ra._ If you have nothing to eat, you have something to hunger after. + +_Sy._ But Fasting won't fill the Belly. + +_Ra._ There is Bread for you. + +_Sy._ There is so, but it is as black as my Hat, and as coarse as the +Bran itself. + +_Ra._ You dainty chap'd Fellow, you ought to be fed with Hay, if you had +such Commons as you deserve. What, I warrant you, Mr. Ass, you must be +fed with Plumb Cakes, must you? If you can't eat dry Bread, take a Leek +to eat with it, or an Onion, if you like that better. + + * * * * * + +_2. Of sending about various Businesses._ + +_Ra._ You must go to Market. + +_Sy._ What, so far? + +_Ra._ It is not a Stone's Throw off, but it seems two Miles to such an +idle Fellow as you; but however, I'll save you as much Labour as I can, +you shall dispatch several Businesses in one Errand; count 'em upon your +Fingers, that mayn't forget any of 'em: First of all step to the +Salesman, and bring my water'd Camblet Doublet if it be done; then go +and enquire for _Cornelius_ the Waggoner, he's commonly at the Sign of +the _Roe-buck_, he uses that House, ask him if he has any Letters for +me, and what Day he sets out on his Journey; then go to the Woollen +Draper, and tell him from me, not to be uneasy, that I have not sent him +the Money at the Time appointed, for he shall have it in a very little +Time. + +_Sy._ When? To morrow come never? + +_Ra._ Do you grin you Pimp? Yes, before the first of _March_: And as you +come back, turn on the Left-hand, and go to the Bookseller, and enquire +of him, if there be any new Books come out of _Germany_, learn what they +are, and the Price of them; then desire _Goclenius_, to do me the Honour +to come to Supper with me, tell him I must sup by myself if he don't. + +_Sy._ What do you invite Guests too? You han't Victuals enough in the +House to give a Mouse a Meal. + +_Ra._ And when you have done all these, go to the Market, and buy a +Shoulder of Mutton, and get it nicely roasted: Do you hear this? + +_Sy._ I hear more than I like to hear. + +_Ra._ But take you Care you remember 'em all. + +_Sy._ I shall scarce be able to remember half of 'em. + +_Ra._ What do you stand loytering here, you idle Knave? You might have +been back before now. + +_Sy._ What one Person in the World can do all these? Truly I must wait +upon him out, and attend upon him home; I'm his Swabber, his +Chamberlain, his Footman, his Clerk, his Butler, his Book-keeper, his +Brawl, his Errand-boy, and last of all he does not think I have Business +enough upon my Hands, unless I am his Cook too. + + * * * * * + +_3. Concerning Riding._ + +_Ra._ Bring me my Boots, I am to ride out. + +_Sy._ Here they are, Sir. + +_Ra._ You have look'd after them bravely, they are all over mouldy with +lying by; I believe they han't been clean'd nor greased this twelve +Months Day; they are so dry, they chap again; wipe them with a wet +Cloth, and liquor them well before the Fire, and chafe them till they +grow soft. + +_Sy._ It shall be done, Sir. + +_Ra._ Where are my Spurs? + +_Sy._ Here they are. + +_Ra._ Ay, here they are indeed, but all eaten up with Rust. Where is my +Bridle and Saddle? + +_Sy._ They are just by. + +_Ra._ See that nothing is wanting or broken, or ready to break, that +nothing may be a Hinderance to us, when we are upon our Journey. Run to +the Sadlers, and get him to mend that Rein: When you come back, look +upon the Horses Feet, and Shoes, and see if there be any Nails wanting, +or loose. How lean and rough these Horses are! How often do you rub 'em +down, or kemb them in a Year? + +_Sy._ I'm sure I do it every Day? + +_Ra._ That may be seen, I believe they have not had a bit of Victuals +for three Days together. + +_Sy._ Indeed they have, Sir. + +_Ra._ You say so, but the Horses would tell me another Tale, if they +could but speak: Though indeed their Leanness speaks loud enough. + +_Sy._ Indeed I take all the Care in the World of 'em. + +_Ra._ How comes it about then, that they don't look as well as you do? + +_Sy._ Because I don't eat Hay. + +_Ra._ You have this to do still; make ready my Portmanteau quickly. + +_Sy._ It shall be done. + + + + +_The SCHOOL-MASTER'S ADMONITIONS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The School-master's Instructions teach a Boy Modesty, + Civility, and Manners becoming his Age, in what Posture + he ought to stand while he talks to his Superiors; + concerning Habit, Discourse, and Behaviour at Table and + in School._ + + +_The School-master and Boy._ + +_Sch._ You seem not to have been bred at Court, but in a Cow-stall; you +behave yourself so clownishly. A Gentleman ought to behave himself like +a Gentleman. As often or whenever any one that is your Superior speaks +to you, stand strait, pull off your Hat, and look neither doggedly, +surlily, saucily, malapertly, nor unsettledly, but with a staid, modest, +pleasant Air in your Countenance, and a bashful Look fix'd upon the +Person who speaks to you; your Feet set close one by t'other; your Hands +without Action: Don't stand titter, totter, first standing upon one +Foot, and then upon another, nor playing with your Fingers, biting your +Lip, scratching your Head, or picking your Ears: Let your Cloaths be put +on tight and neat, that your whole Dress, Air, Motion and Habit, may +bespeak a modest and bashful Temper. + +_Bo._ What if I shall try, Sir? + +_Ma._ Do so. + +_Bo._ Is this right? + +_Ma._ Not quite. + +_Bo._ Must I do so? + +_Ma._ That's pretty well. + +_Bo._ Must I stand so? + +_Ma._ Ay, that's very well, remember that Posture; don't be a Prittle +prattle, nor Prate apace, nor be a minding any Thing but what is said to +you. If you are to make an Answer, do it in few Words, and to the +Purpose, every now and then prefacing with some Title of Respect, and +sometimes use a Title of Honour, and now and then make a Bow, especially +when you have done speaking: Nor do you go away without asking Leave, or +being bid to go: Now come let me see how you can practise this. How long +have you been from Home? + +_Bo._ Almost six Months. + +_Ma._ You should have said, Sir. + +_Bo._ Almost six Months, Sir. + +_Ma._ Don't you long to see your Mother? + +_Bo._ Yes, sometimes. + +_Ma._ Have you a Mind to go to see her? + +_Bo._ Yes, with your Leave, Sir. + +_Ma._ Now you should have made a Bow; that's very well, remember to do +so; when you speak, don't speak fast, stammer, or speak in your Throat, +but use yourself to pronounce your Words distinctly and clearly. If you +pass by any ancient Person, a Magistrate, a Minister, or Doctor, or any +Person of Figure, be sure to pull off your Hat, and make your Reverence: +Do the same when you pass by any sacred Place, or the Image of the +Cross. When you are at a Feast, behave yourself chearfully, but always +so as to remember what becomes your Age: Serve yourself last; and if any +nice Bit be offer'd you, refuse it modestly; but if they press it upon +you, take it, and thank the Person, and cutting off a Bit of it, offer +the rest either to him that gave it you, or to him that sits next to +you. If any Body drinks to you merrily, thank him, and drink moderately. +If you don't care to drink, however, kiss the Cup. Look pleasantly upon +him that speaks to you; and be sure not to speak till you are spoken to. +If any Thing that is obscene be said, don't laugh at it, but keep your +Countenance, as though you did not understand it; don't reflect on any +Body, nor take place of any Body, nor boast of any Thing of your own, +nor undervalue any Thing of another Bodies. Be courteous to your +Companions that are your Inferiors; traduce no Body; don't be a Blab +with your Tongue, and by this Means you'll get a good Character, and +gain Friends without Envy. If the Entertainment shall be long, desire to +be excus'd, bid much good may it do the Guests, and withdraw from Table: +See that you remember these Things. + +_Bo._ I'll do my Endeavour, Sir. Is there any Thing else you'd have me +do? + +_Ma._ Now go to your Books. + +_Bo._ Yes, Sir. + + + + +_Of VARIOUS PLAYS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Boys sending_ Cocles _their Messenger to their + Master, get Leave to go to Play; who shews that moderate + Recreations are very necessary both for Mind and Body. + The Master admonishes them that they keep together at + Play, &c. 1. Of playing at Stool-ball: Of chusing + Partners. 2. Of playing at Bowls, the Orders of the + Bowling-Green. 3. Of playing at striking a Ball through + an Iron Ring. 4. Of Dancing, that they should not dance + presently after Dinner: Of playing at Leap-frog: Of + Running: Of Swimming._ + + +NICHOLAS, JEROME, COCLES, _the_ MASTER. + +_Nic._ I have had a great Mind a good While, and this fine Weather is a +great Invitation to go to Play. + +_Jer._ These indeed invite you, but the Master don't. + +_Nic._ We must get some Spokesman that may extort a Holiday from him. + +_Jer._ You did very well to say extort, for you may sooner wrest +_Hercules's_ Club out of his Hands than get a Play-day from him; but +Time was when Nobody lov'd Play better than he did. + +_Nic._ That is true, but he has forgot a great While ago since he was a +Boy himself; he is as ready and free at whipping as any Body, but as +sparing and backward at this as any Body in the World. + +_Jer._ We must pick out a Messenger that is not very bashful that won't +be presently dashed out of Countenance by his surly Words. + +_Nic._ Let who will go for me, I had rather go without Play than ask +him for it. + +_Jer._ There is Nobody fitter for this Business than _Cocles._ + +_Nic._ Nobody in the World, he has a good bold Face of his own, and +Tongue enough; and besides, he knows his Humour too. + +_Jer._ Go, _Cocles_, you will highly oblige us all. + +_Coc._ Well, I'll try; but if I do not succeed, do not lay the Fault on +your Spokesman. + +_Jer._ You promise well for it, I am out in my Opinion if you don't get +Leave. Go on Intreater, and return an Obtainer. + +_Coc._ I'll go, may _Mercury_ send me good Luck of my Errand. God save +you, Sir. + +_Ma._ What does this idle Pack want? + +_Coc._ Your Servant, Reverend Master. + +_Ma._ This is a treacherous Civility! I am well enough already. Tell me +what 'tis you came for. + +_Coc._ Your whole School beg a Play-day. + +_Ma._ You do nothing else but play, even without Leave. + +_Coc._ Your Wisdom knows that moderate Play quickens the Wit, as you +have taught us out of _Quintilian_. + +_Ma._ Very well, how well you can remember what's to your purpose? They +that labour hard, had need of some Relaxation: But you that study idly, +and play laboriously, had more need of a Curb, than a Snaffle. + +_Coc._ If any Thing has been wanting in Times past, we'll labour to make +it up by future Diligence. + +_Ma._ O rare Makers up! who will be Sureties for the performing this +Promise? + +_Coc._ I'll venture my Head upon it. + +_Ma._ Nay, rather venture your Tail. I know there is but little +Dependance upon your Word; but however, I'll try this Time what Credit +may be given to you; if you deceive me now, you shall never obtain any +Thing from me again. Let 'em play; but let them keep together in the +Field, don't let them go a tippling or worse Exercises, and see they +come Home betimes, before Sun set. + +_Coc._ We will, Sir, I have gotten Leave, but with much a do. + +_Jer._ O brave Lad! we all love you dearly. + +_Coc._ But we must be sure not to transgress our Orders, for if we do, +it will be all laid upon my Back; I have engaged for ye all, and if ye +do, I'll never be your Spokesman again. + +_Jer._ We'll take Care: But what Play do you like best? + +_Coc._ We'll talk of that when we come into the Fields. + + * * * * * + +I. _Of playing at Ball._ + +_NICHOLAS_ and _JEROME._ + +_Nic._ No Play is better to exercise all Parts of the Body than +Stool-ball; but that's fitter for Winter than Summer. + +_Jer._ There is no Time of the Year with us, but what's fit to play in. + +_Nic._ We shall sweat less, if we play at Tennis. + +_Jer._ Let's let Nets alone to Fishermen; it's prettier to catch it in +our Hands. + +_Nic._ Well, come on, I don't much Matter; but how much shall we play +for? + +_Nic._ But I had rather spare my Corps than my Money. + +_Jer._ And I value my Corps more than my Money: We must play for +something, or we shall never play our best. + +_Nic._ You say true. + +_Jer._ Which Hand soever shall get the first three Games, shall pay the +sixth Part of a Groat to the other; but upon Condition that what's won +shall be spent among all the Company alike. + +_Nic._ Well, I like the Proposal; come done, let's chuse Hands; but we +are all so equally match'd, that it's no great Matter who and who's +together. + +_Jer._ You play a great Deal better than I. + +_Nic._ But for all that, you have the better Luck. + +_Jer._ Has Fortune anything to do at this Play? + +_Nic._ She has to do everywhere. + +_Jer._ Well, come let's toss up. O Boys, very well indeed. I have got +the Partners I would have. + +_Nic._ And we like our Partners very well. + +_Jer._ Come on, now for't, he that will win, must look to his Game. Let +every one stand to his Place bravely. Do you stand behind me ready to +catch the Ball, if it goes beyond me; do you mind there, and beat it +back when it comes from our Adversaries. + +_Nic._ I'll warrant ye, I'll hit it if it comes near me. + +_Jer._ Go on and prosper, throw up the Ball upon the House. He that +throws and do's not speak first shall lose his Cast. + +_Nic._ Well, take it then. + +_Jer._ Do you toss it; if you throw it beyond the Bounds, or short, or +over the House, it shall go for nothing, and we won't be cheated: And +truly you throw nastily. As you toss it, I'll give it you again; I'll +give you _a Rowland for an Oliver_; but it is better to play fairly and +honestly. + +_Nic._ It is best at Diversion, to beat by fair Play. + +_Jer._ It is so, and in War too; these Arts have each their respective +Laws: There are some Arts that are very unfair ones. + +_Nic._ I believe so too, and more than seven too. Mark the Bounds with a +Shell, or Brick-bat, or with your Hat if you will. + +_Jer._ I'd rather do it with yours. + +_Nic._ Take the Ball again. + +_Jer._ Throw it; score it up. + +_Nic._ We have two good wide Goals. + +_Jer._ Pretty wide, but they are not out of Reach. + +_Nic._ They may be reach'd if no Body hinders it. + +_Jer._ O brave, I have gone beyond the first Goal. We are fifteen. Play +stoutly, we had got this too, if you had stood in your Place. Well, now +we are equal. + +_Nic._ But you shan't be so long. Well, we are thirty; we are forty +five. + +_Jer._ What, Sesterces? + +_Nic._ No. + +_Jer._ What then? + +_Nic._ Numbers. + +_Jer._ What signifies Numbers, if you have nothing to pay? + +_Nic._ We have gotten this Game. + +_Jer._ You are a little too hasty; _you reckon your Chickens before they +are hatch'd_. I have seen those lose the Game that have had so many for +Love. War and Play is a meer Lottery. We have got thirty, now we are +equal again. + +_Nic._ This is the Game Stroke. O brave! we have got the better of you. + +_Jer._ Well, but you shan't have it long; did I not say so? We are +equally fortunate. + +_Nic._ Fortune inclines first to one side, and then to t'other, as if +she could not tell which to give the Victory to. Fortune, be but on our +Side, and we'll help thee to a Husband. O rare! She has answer'd her +Desire, we have got this Game, set it up, that we mayn't forget. + +_Jer._ It is almost Night, and we have play'd enough, we had better +leave off, too much of one Thing is good for nothing, let us reckon our +Winnings. + +_Nic._ We have won three Groats, and you have won two; then there is one +to be spent. But who must pay for the Balls? + +_Jer._ All alike, every one his Part. For there is so little won, we +can't take any Thing from that. + + * * * * * + +_2. BOWL PLAYING._ + +_ADOLPHUS, BERNARDUS_, the Arbitrators. + +_Adol._ You have been often bragging what a mighty Gamester you were at +Bowls. Come now, I have a Mind to try what a one you are. + +_Ber._ I'll answer you, if you have a Mind to that Sport. Now you'll +find according to the Proverb; _You have met with your Match._ + +_Adol._ Well, and you shall find I am a Match for you too. + +_Ber._ Shall we play single Hands or double Hands? + +_Adol._ I had rather play single, that another may not come in with me +for a Share of the Victory. + +_Ber._ And I had rather have it so too, that the Victory may be entirely +my own. + +_Adol._ They shall look on, and be Judges. + +_Ber._ I take you up; But what shall he that beats get, or he that is +beaten lose? + +_Adol._ What if he that beats shall have a Piece of his Ear cut off. + +_Ber._ Nay, rather let one of his Stones be cut out. It is a mean Thing +to play for Money; you are a _Frenchman_, and I a _German_, we'll both +play for the Honour of his Country. + +_Adol._ If I shall beat you, you shall cry out thrice, let _France_ +flourish; If I shall be beat (which I hope I shan't) I'll in the same +Words celebrate your _Germany_. + +_Ber._ Well, a Match. Now for good Luck; since two great Nations are at +Stake in this Game, let the Bowls be both alike. + +_Adol._ Do you see that Stone that lies by the Port there. + +_Ber._ Yes I do. + +_Adol._ That shall be the Jack. + +_Ber._ Very well, let it be so; but I say let the Bowls be alike. + +_Adol._ They are as like as two Peas. Take which you please, it's all +one to me. + +_Ber._ Bowl away. + +_Adol._ Hey-day, you whirl your Bowl as if your Arm was a Sling. + +_Ber._ You have bit your Lip, and whirled your Bowl long enough: Come +bowl away. A strong Bowl indeed, but I am best. + +_Adol._ If it had not been for that mischievous Bit of a Brick-bat +there, that lay in my Way, I had beat you off. + +_Ber._ Stand fair. + +_Adol._ I won't cheat: I intend to beat you, by Art, and not to cheat +ye, since we contend for the Prize of Honour: Rub, rub. + +_Ber._ A great Cast in Troth. + +_Adol._ Nay, don't laugh before you've won. We are equal yet. + +_Ber._ This is who shall: He that first hits the Jack is up. I have beat +you, sing. + +_Adol._ Stay, you should have said how many you'd make up, for my Hand +is not come in yet. + +_Ber._ Judgment, Gentlemen. + +_Arbitr._ 3. + +_Adol._ Very well. + +_Ber._ Well, what do you say now? Are you beat or no? + +_Adol._ You have had better Luck than I, but yet I won't vail to you, as +to Strength and Art; I'll stand to what the Company says. + +_Arb._ The _German_ has beat, and the Victory is the more glorious, that +he has beat so good a Gamester. + +_Ber._ Now Cock, crow. + +_Adol._ I am hoarse. + +_Ber._ That's no new Thing to Cocks; but if you can't crow like an old +Cock, crow like a Cockeril. + +_Adol._ Let _Germany_ flourish thrice. + +_Ber._ You ought to have said so thrice. I am a-dry; let us drink +somewhere, I'll make an end of the Song there. + +_Adol._ I won't stand upon that, if the Company likes it. + +_Arb._ That will be the best, the Cock will crow clearer when his Throat +is gargled. + + * * * * * + +_3. The Play of striking a Ball through an Iron Ring. + +GASPAR, ERASMUS. + +Gas._ Come, let's begin, _Marcolphus_ shall come in, in the Losers +Place. + +_Er._ But what shall we play for? + +_Gas._ He that is beat shall make and repeat _extempore_ a Distich, in +Praise of him that beat him. + +_Er._ With all my Heart. + +_Gas._ Shall we toss up who shall go first? + +_Er._ Do you go first if you will, I had rather go last. + +_Gas._ You have the better of me, because you know the Ground. + +_Er._ You're upon your own Ground. + +_Gas._ Indeed I am better acquainted with the Ground, than I am with my +Books; but that's but a small Commendation. + +_Er._ You that are so good a Gamester ought to give me Odds. + +_Gas._ Nay, you should rather give me Odds; but there's no great Honour +in getting a Victory, when Odds is taken: He only can properly be said +to get the Game, that gets it by his own Art; we are as well match'd as +can be. + +_Er._ Yours is a better Ball than mine. + +_Gas._ And yours is beyond me. + +_Er._ Play fair, without cheating and cozening. + +_Gas._ You shall say you have had to do with a fair Gamester. + +_Er._ But I would first know the Orders of the Bowling-alley. + +_Gas._ We make 4 up; whoever bowls beyond this Line it goes for nothing; +if you can go beyond those other Bounds, do it fairly and welcome: +Whoever hits a Bowl out of his Place loses his Cast. + +_Er._ I understand these Things. + +_Gas._ I have shut you out. + +_Er._ But I'll give you a Remove. + +_Gas._ If you do that I'll give you the Game. + +_Er._ Will you upon your Word? + +_Gas._ Yes, upon my Word: You have no other Way for it but to bank your +Bowl so as to make it rebound on mine. + +_Er._ I'll try: Well, what say you now Friend? Are not you beaten away? +(Have I not struck you away?) + +_Gas._ I am, I confess it; I wish you were but as wise as you are lucky; +you can scarce do so once in a hundred Times. + +_Er._ I'll lay you, if you will, that I do it once in three Times. But +come pay me what I have won. + +_Gas._ What's that? + +_Er._ Why, a Distich. + +_Gas._ Well, I'll pay it now. + +_Er._ And an extempore one too. Why do you bite your Nails? + +_Gas._ I have it. + +_Er._ Recite it out. + +_Gas._ As loud as you will. + + _Young Standers-by, dap ye the Conqueror brave, + Who me has beat, is the more learned Knave_. + +Han't you a Distich now? + +_Er._ I have, and I'll give you as good as you bring. + + * * * * * + +4. _Leaping._ + +VINCENT, LAURENCE. + +_Vi._ Have you a Mind to jump with me? + +_Lau._ That Play is not good presently after Dinner. + +_Vi._ Why so? + +_Lau._ Because that a Fulness of Belly makes the Body heavy. + +_Vi._ Not very much to those that live upon Scholars Commons, for these +oftentimes are ready for a Supper before they have done Dinner. + +_Lau._ What Sort of leaping is it that you like best? + +_Vi._ Let us first begin with that which is the plainest, as that of +Grasshoppers; or Leap-frog, if you like that better, both Feet at once, +and close to one another; and when we have play'd enough at this, then +we'll try other Sorts. + +_Lau._ I'll play at any Sort, where there is no Danger of breaking ones +Legs; I have no Mind to make Work for the Surgeon. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at hopping? + +_Lau._ That the Ghosts play, I am not for that. + +_Vi._ It's the cleverest Way to leap with a Pole. + +_Lau._ Running is a more noble Exercise; for _AEneas_ in _Virgil_ +proposed this Exercise. + +_Vi._ Very true, and he also propos'd the righting with Whirly-bats too, +and I don't like that Sport. + +_Lau._ Mark the Course, let this be the Starting-place, and yonder Oak +the Goal. + +_Vi._ I wish _AEneas_ was here, that he might propose what should be the +Conqueror's Prize. + +_Lau._ Glory is a Reward sufficient for Victory. + +_Vi._ You should rather give a Reward to him that is beat, to comfort +him. + +_Lau._ Then let the Victor's Reward be to go into the Town crowned with +a Bur. + +_Vi._ Well, 'tis done, provided you'll go before playing upon a Pipe. + +_Lau._ It is very hot. + +_Vi._ That is not strange when it is Midsummer. + +_Lau._ Swimming is better. + +_Vi._ I don't love to live like a Frog, I am a Land Animal, not an +amphibious one. + +_Lau._ But in old Time this was look'd upon to be one of the most noble +Exercises. + +_Vi._ Nay, and a very useful one too. + +_Lau._ For What? + +_Vi._ If Men are forc'd to fly in Battel, they are in the best Condition +that can run and swim best. + +_Lau._ The Art you speak of is not to be set light by; it is as +Praise-worthy sometimes to run away nimbly as it is to fight stoutly. + +_Vi._ I can't swim at all, and it is dangerous to converse with an +unaccustomed Element. + +_Lau._ You ought to learn then, for no Body was born an Artist. + +_Vi._ But I have heard of a great many of these Artists that have swum +in, but never swam out again. + +_Lau._ First try with Corks. + +_Vi._ I can't trust more to a Cork than to my Feet; if you have a Mind +to swim, I had rather be a Spectator than an Actor. + + + + +_The CHILD'S PIETY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Discourse furnishes a childish Mind with pious + Instructions of Religion, in what it consists. What is to + be done in the Morning in Bed, at getting up, at Home, at + School, before Meat, after Meat, before going to Sleep. + Of beginning the Day, of praying, of behaving themselves + studiously at School, Thriftiness of Time: Age flies. + What is to be done after Supper. How we ought to sleep. + Of Behaviour at holy Worship. All Things to be applied to + ourselves. The Meditation of a pious Soul at Church. What + Preachers are chiefly to be heard. Fasting is prejudicial + to Children. Confession is to be made to Christ. The + Society of wicked Persons is to be avoided. Of the + prudent chusing a Way of Living. Holy Orders and + Matrimony are not to be entred into before the Age of + Twenty-two. What Poets are fit to be read, and how._ + + +ERASMUS, GASPAR. + +_ERASMUS._ Whence came you from? Out of some Alehouse? + +_Ga._ No, indeed. + +_Er._ What from a Bowling Green? + +_Ga._ No, nor from thence neither. + +_Er._ What from the Tavern then? + +_Ga._ No. + +_Er._ Well, since I can't guess, tell me. + +_Ga._ From St. _Mary's_ Church. + +_Er._ What Business had you there? + +_Ga._ I saluted some Persons. + +_Er._ Who? + +_Ga._ Christ, and some of the Saints. + +_Er._ You have more Religion than is common to one of your Age. + +_Ga._ Religion is becoming to every Age. + +_Er._ If I had a Mind to be religious, I'd become a Monk. + +_Ga._ And so would I too, if a Monk's Hood carried in it as much Piety +as it does Warmth. + +_Er._ There is an old Saying, a young Saint and an old Devil. + +_Ga._ But I believe that old Saying came from old Satan: I can hardly +think an old Man to be truly religious, that has not been so in his +young Days. Nothing is learn'd to greater Advantage, than what we learn +in our youngest Years. + +_Er._ What is that which is call'd Religion? + +_Ga._ It is the pure Worship of God, and Observation of his +Commandments. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ It is too long to relate all; but I'll tell you in short, it +consists in four Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ In the first Place, that we have a true and pious Apprehension of +God himself, and the Holy Scriptures; and that we not only stand in Awe +of him as a Lord, but that we love him with all our Heart, as a most +beneficent Father. 2. That we take the greatest Care to keep ourselves +blameless; that is, that we do no Injury to any one. 3. That we exercise +Charity, _i.e._ to deserve well of all Persons (as much as in us lyes). +4. That we practise Patience, _i.e._ to bear patiently Injuries that are +offered us, when we can't prevent them, not revenging them, nor +requiting Evil for Evil. + +_Er._ You hold forth finely; but do you practise what you teach? + +_Ga._ I endeavour it manfully. + +_Er._ How can you do it like a Man, when you are but a Boy? + +_Ga._ I meditate according to my Ability, and call myself to an Account +every Day; and correct myself for what I have done amiss: That was +unhandsomely done this saucily said, this was uncautiously acted; in +that it were better to have held my Peace, that was neglected. + +_Er._ When do you come to this Reckoning? + +_Ga._ Most commonly at Night; or at any Time that I am most at Leisure. + +_Er._ But tell me, in what Studies do you spend the Day? + +_Ga._ I will hide nothing from so intimate a Companion: In the Morning, +as soon as I am awake, (and that is commonly about six a Clock, or +sometimes at five) I sign myself with my Finger in the Forehead and +Breast with the Sign of the Cross. + +_Er._ What then? + +_Ga._ I begin the Day in the Name of the Father, Son, and holy Spirit. + +_Er._ Indeed that is very piously done. + +_Ga._ By and by I put up a short Ejaculation to Christ. + +_Er._ What dost thou say to him? + +_Ga._ I give him Thanks that he has been pleased to bless me that Night; +and I pray him that he would in like Manner prosper me the whole of that +Day, so as may be for his Glory, and my Soul's Good; and that he who is +the true Light that never sets, the eternal Sun, that enlivens, +nourishes and exhilarates all Things, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Soul, that I mayn't fall into Sin; but by his Guidance, may attain +everlasting Life. + +_Er._ A very good Beginning of the Day indeed. + +_Ga._ And then having bid my Parents good Morrow, to whom next to God, I +owe the greatest Reverence, when it is Time I go to School; but so that +I may pass by some Church, if I can conveniently. + +_Er._ What do you do there? + +_Ga._ I salute Jesus again in three Words, and all the Saints, either +Men or Women; but the Virgin _Mary_ by Name, and especially that I +account most peculiarly my own. + +_Er._ Indeed you seem to have read that Sentence of _Cato, Saluta +libenter_, to good Purpose; was it not enough to have saluted Christ in +the Morning, without saluting him again presently? Are you not afraid +lest you should be troublesome by your over Officiousness? + +_Ga._ Christ loves to be often called upon. + +_Er._ But it seems to be ridiculous to speak to one you don't see. + +_Ga._ No more do I see that Part of me that speaks to him. + +_Er._ What Part is that? + +_Ga._ My Mind. + +_Er._ But it seems to be Labour lost, to salute one that does not salute +you again. + +_Ga._ He frequently salutes again by his secret Inspiration; and he +answers sufficiently that gives what is ask'd of him. + +_Er._ What is it you ask of him? For I perceive your Salutations are +petitionary, like those of Beggars. + +_Ga._ Indeed you are very right; for I pray that he, who, when he was a +Boy of about twelve Years of Age, sitting in the Temple, taught the +Doctors themselves, and to whom the heavenly Father, by a Voice from +Heaven, gave Authority to teach Mankind, saying, _This is my beloved +Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him_; and who is the eternal +Wisdom of the most high Father, would vouchsafe to enlighten my +Understanding, to receive wholesome Learning, that I may use it to his +Glory. + +_Er._ Who are those Saints that you call peculiarly yours? + +_Ga._ Of the Apostles, St. _Paul_; of the Martyrs, St. _Cyprian_; of the +Doctors, St. _Jerome_; of the Virgins, St. _Agnes_. + +_Er._ How came these to be yours, more than the rest. Was it by Choice +or by Chance? + +_Ga._ They fell to me by Lot. + +_Er._ But you only salute them I suppose; do you beg any Thing of them? + +_Ga._ I pray, that by their Suffrages they would recommend me to +Christ, and procure that by his Assistance it may in Time come to pass +that I be made one of their Company. + +_Er._ Indeed what you ask for is no ordinary Thing: But what do you do +then? + +_Ga._ I go to School, and do what is to be done there with my utmost +Endeavour; I so implore Christ's Assistance, as if my Study without it +would signify nothing; and I study as if he offered no Help but to him +that labours industriously; and I do my utmost not to deserve to be +beaten, nor to offend my Master either in Word or Deed, nor any of my +Companions. + +_Er._ You are a good Boy to mind these Things. + +_Ga._ When School is done I make haste Home, and if I can I take a +Church in my Way, and in three Words, I salute Jesus again; and I pay my +Respects to my Parents; and if I have any Time, I repeat, either by +myself, or with one of my School-fellows, what was dictated in School. + +_Er._ Indeed you are a very good Husband of Time. + +_Ga._ No wonder I am of that, which is the most precious Thing in the +World, and when past is irrecoverable. + +_Er._ And _Hesiod_ teaches, that good Husbandry ought to be in the +Middle, it is too soon in the Beginning, and too late in the End. + +_Ga._ _Hesiod_ spoke right enough concerning Wine, but of Time no good +Husbandry is unseasonable. If you let a Hogshead of Wine alone it won't +empty itself; but Time is always a flying, sleeping or waking. + +_Er._ I confess so, but what do you do after that? + +_Ga._ When my Parents sit down to Dinner I say Grace, and then wait at +Table till I am bid to take my own Dinner; and having returned Thanks, +if I have any Time left I divert myself with my Companions with some +lawful Recreation till the Time comes to go to School again. + +_Er._ Do you salute Jesus again? + +_Ga._ Yes, if I have an Opportunity; but if it so happen that I have not +an Opportunity, or it be not seasonable, as I pass by the Church I +salute him mentally; and then I do what is to be done at School with all +my Might; and when I go Home again I do what I did before Dinner: After +Supper I divert myself with some pleasant Stories; and afterwards +bidding my Parents and the Family good Night, I go to Bed betimes, and +there kneeling down by the Bedside, as I have said, I say over those +Things I have been learning that Day at School; if I have committed any +great Fault, I implore Christ's Clemency, that he would pardon me, and I +promise Amendment: and if I have committed no Fault, I thank him for his +Goodness in preserving me from all Vice, and then I recommend myself to +him with all my Soul, that he would preserve me from the Attempts of my +evil Genius and filthy Dreams. When this is done, and I am got into Bed, +I cross my Forehead and Breast, and compose myself to Rest. + +_Er._ In what Posture do you compose yourself? + +_Ga._ I don't lye upon my Face or my Back, but first leaning upon my +Right-Side, I fold my Arms a-cross, so that they may defend my Breast, +as it were with the Figure of a Cross, with my Right-hand upon my Left +Shoulder, and my Left upon my Right, and so I sleep sweetly, either till +I awake of myself, or am called up. + +_Er._ You are a little Saint that can do thus. + +_Ga._ You are a little Fool for saying so. + +_Er._ I praise your Method, and I would I could practise it. + +_Ga._ Give your Mind to it and you will do it, for when once you have +accustom'd yourself to it for a few Months, these Things will be +pleasant, and become natural. + +_Er._ But I want to hear concerning divine Service. + +_Ga._ I don't neglect that, especially upon holy Days. + +_Er._ How do you manage yourself on holy Days? + +_Ga._ In the first place I examine myself if my Mind be Polluted by any +Stain of Sin. + +_Er._ And if you find it is, what do you do then? Do you refrain from +the Altar? + +_Ga._ Not by my bodily Presence, but I withdraw myself, as to my Mind, +and standing as it were afar off, as tho' not daring to lift up my Eyes +to God the Father, whom I have offended, I strike upon my Breast, crying +out with the Publican in the Gospel, _Lord, be merciful to me a Sinner_. +And then if I know I have offended any Man, I take Care to make him +Satisfaction if I can presently; but if I cannot do that, I resolve in +my Mind to reconcile my Neighbour as soon as possible. If any Body has +offended me, I forbear Revenge, and endeavour to bring it about, that he +that has offended me may be made sensible of his Fault, and be sorry for +it; but if there be no Hope of that, I leave all Vengeance to God. + +_Er._ That's a hard Task. + +_Ga._ Is it hard to forgive a small Offence to your Brother, whose +mutual Forgiveness thou wilt stand in frequent need of, when Christ has +at once forgiven us all our Offences, and is every Day forgiving us? +Nay, this seems to me not to be Liberality to our Neighbour, but putting +to Interest to God; just as tho' one Fellow-Servant should agree with +another to forgive him three Groats, that his Lord might forgive him ten +Talents. + +_Er._ You indeed argue very rationally, if what you say be true. + +_Ga._ Can you desire any Thing truer than the Gospel? + +_Er._ That is unreasonable; but there are some who can't believe +themselves to be Christians unless they hear Mass (as they call it) +every Day. + +_Ga._ Indeed I don't condemn the Practise in those that have Time +enough, and spend whole Days in profane Exercises; but I only disapprove +of those who superstitiously fancy that that Day must needs be +unfortunate to them that they have not begun with the Mass; and +presently after divine Service is over they go either to Trading, +Gaming, or the Court, where whatsoever succeeds, though done justly or +unjustly, they attribute to the Mass. + +_Er._ Are there any Persons that are so absurd? + +_Ga._ The greatest part of Mankind. + +_Er._ But return to divine Service. + +_Ga._ If I can, I get to stand so close by the Holy Altar, that I can +hear what the Priest reads, especially the Epistle and the Gospel; from +these I endeavour to pick something, which I fix in my Mind, and this I +ruminate upon for some Time. + +_Er._ Don't you pray at all in the mean Time? + +_Ga._ I do pray, but rather mentally than vocally. From the Things the +Priest reads I take occasion of Prayer. + +_Er._ Explain that a little more, I don't well take in what you mean. + +_Ga._ I'll tell you; suppose this Epistle was read, _Purge out the old +Leaven, that ye may be a new Lump, as ye are unleavened_. On occasion of +these Words I thus address myself to Christ, "I wish I were the +unleavened Bread, pure from all Leaven of Malice; but do thou, O Lord +Jesus, who alone art pure, and free from all Malice, grant that I may +every Day more and more purge out the old Leaven." Again, if the Gospel +chance to be read concerning the Sower sowing his Seed, I thus pray with +my self, "Happy is he that deserves to be that good Ground, and I pray +that of barren Ground, he of his great Goodness would make me good +Ground, without whose Blessing nothing at all is good." These for +Example Sake, for it would be tedious to mention every Thing. But if I +happen to meet with a dumb Priest, (such as there are many in _Germany_) +or that I can't get near the Altar, I commonly get a little Book that +has the Gospel of that Day and Epistle, and this I either say out aloud, +or run it over with my Eye. + +_Er._ I understand; but with what Contemplations chiefly dost thou pass +away the Time? + +_Ga._ I give Thanks to Jesus Christ for his unspeakable Love, in +condescending to redeem Mankind by his Death; I pray that he would not +suffer his most holy Blood to be shed in vain for me, but that with his +Body he would always feed my Soul, and that with his Blood he would +quicken my Spirit, that growing by little and little in the Increase of +Graces, I may be made a fit Member of his mystical Body, which is the +Church; nor may ever fall from that holy Covenant that he made with his +elect Disciples at the last Supper, when he distributed the Bread, and +gave the Cup; and through these, with all who are engraffed into his +Society by Baptism. And if I find my Thoughts to wander, I read some +Psalms, or some pious Matter, that may keep my Mind from wandring. + +_Er._ Have you any particular Psalms for this Purpose? + +_Ga._ I have; but I have not so tyed myself up to them, but that I can +omit them, if any Meditation comes into my Mind that is more refreshing, +than the Recitation of those Psalms. + +_Er._ What do you do as to Fasting? + +_Ga._ I have nothing to do with Fasting, for so _Jerome_ has taught me; +that Health is not to be impair'd by fasting, until the Body is arrived +at its full Strength. I am not quite 17 Years old; but yet if I find +Occasion, I dine and sup sparingly, that I may be more lively for +Spiritual Exercises on holy Days. + +_Er._ Since I have begun, I will go through with my Enquiries. How do +you find yourself affected towards Sermons? + +_Ga._ Very well, I go to them as devoutly as if I was a going to a holy +Assembly; and yet I pick and chuse whom to hear, for there are some, one +had better not hear than hear; and if such an one happens to preach, or +if it happen that no Body preaches, I pass this Time in reading the +Scriptures, I read the Gospel or Epistle with _Chrysostom's_ or +_Jerome's_ Interpretation, or any other pious and learned Interpreter +that I meet with. + +_Er._ But Word of Mouth is more affecting. + +_Ga._ I confess it is. I had rather hear if I can but meet with a +tolerable Preacher; but I don't seem to be wholly destitute of a Sermon +if I hear _Chrysostom_ or _Jerome_ speaking by their Writings. + +_Er._ I am of your Mind; but how do you stand affected as to +Confession? + +_Ga._ Very well; for I confess daily. + +_Er._ Every Day? + +_Ga._ Yes. + +_Er._ Then you ought to keep a Priest to yourself. + +_Ga._ But I confess to him who only truly remits Sins, to whom all the +Power is given. + +_Er._ To whom? + +_Ga._ To Christ. + +_Er._ And do you think that's sufficient? + +_Ga._ It would be enough for me, if it were enough for the Rulers of the +Church, and receiv'd Custom. + +_Er._ Who do you call the Rulers of the Church? + +_Ga._ The Popes, Bishops and Apostles. + +_Er._ And do you put Christ into this Number? + +_Ga._ He is without Controversy the chief Head of e'm all. + +_Er._ And was he the Author of this Confession in use? + +_Ga._ He is indeed the Author of all good; but whether he appointed +Confession as it is now us'd in the Church, I leave to be disputed by +Divines. The Authority of my Betters is enough for me that am but a Lad +and a private Person. This is certainly the principal Confession; nor is +it an easy Matter to confess to Christ; no Body confesses to him, but he +that is angry with his Sin. If I have committed any great Offence, I lay +it open, and bewail it to him, and implore his Mercy; I cry out, weep +and lament, nor do I give over before I feel the Love of Sin throughly +purged from the Bottom of my Heart, and some Tranquility and +Chearfulness of Mind follow upon it, which is an Argument of the Sin +being pardoned. And when the Time requires to go to the holy Communion +of the Body and Blood of Christ; then I make Confession to a Priest too, +but in few Words, and nothing but what I am well satisfy'd are Faults, +or such that carry in them a very great Suspicion that they are such; +neither do I always take it to be a capital or enormous Crime, every +Thing that is done contrary to human Constitutions, unless a wicked +Contemptuousness shall go along with it: Nay, I scarce believe any Crime +to be Capital, that has not Malice join'd with it, that is, a perverse +Will. + +_Er._ I commend you, that you are so religious, and yet not +superstitious: Here I think the old Proverb takes place: _Nec omnia, nec +passim, nec quibuslibet_, That a Person should neither speak all, nor +every where, nor to all Persons. + +_Ga._ I chuse me a Priest, that I can trust with the Secrets of my +Heart. + +_Er._ That's wisely done: For there are a great many, as is found by +Experience, do blab out what in Confessions is discovered to them. And +there are some vile impudent Fellows that enquire of the Person +confessing, those Things, that it were better if they were conceal'd; +and there are some unlearned and foolish Fellows, who for the Sake of +filthy Gain, lend their Ear, but apply not their Mind, who can't +distinguish between a Fault and a good Deed, nor can neither teach, +comfort nor advise. These Things I have heard from many, and in Part +have experienced my self. + +_Ga._ And I too much; therefore I chuse me one that is learn'd, grave, +of approv'd Integrity, and one that keeps his Tongue within his Teeth. + +_Er._ Truly you are happy that can make a Judgment of Things so early. + +_Ga._ But above all, I take Care of doing any Thing that I can't safely +trust a Priest with. + +_Er._ That's the best Thing in the World, if you can but do so. + +_Ga._ Indeed it is hard to us of ourselves, but by the Help of Christ it +is easy; the greatest Matter is, that there be a Will to it. I often +renew my Resolution, especially upon Sundays: And besides that, I +endeavour as much as I can to keep out of evil Company, and associate +myself with good Company, by whose Conversation I may be better'd. + +_Er._ Indeed you manage yourself rightly: For _evil Conversations +corrupt good Manners_. + +_Ga._ I shun Idleness as the Plague. + +_Er._ You are very right, for Idleness is the Root of all Evil; but as +the World goes now, he must live by himself that would keep out of bad +Company. + +_Ga._ What you say is very true, for as the _Greek_ wise Men said the +bad are the greatest Number. But I chuse the best out of a few, and +sometimes a good Companion makes his Companion better. I avoid those +Diversions that incite to Naughtiness, and use those that are innocent. +I behave myself courteous to all; but familiarly with none but those +that are good. If I happen at any Time to fall into bad Company, I +either correct them by a soft Admonition, or wink at and bear with them, +if I can do them no good; but I be sure to get out of their Company as +soon as I can. + +_Er._ Had you never an itching Mind to become a Monk? + +_Ga._ Never; but I have been often solicited to it by some, that call +you into a Monastery, as into a Port from a Shipwreck. + +_Er._ Say you so? Were they in Hopes of a Prey? + +_Ga._ They set upon both me and my Parents with a great many crafty +Persuasions; but I have taken a Resolution not to give my Mind either to +Matrimony or Priesthood, nor to be a Monk, nor to any Kind of Life out +of which I can't extricate myself, before I know myself very well. + +_Er._ When will that be? + +_Ga._ Perhaps never. But before the 28th Year of ones Age, nothing +should be resolved on. + +_Er._ Why so? + +_Ga._ Because I hear every where, so many Priests, Monks and married Men +lamenting that they hurried themselves rashly into Servitude. + +_Er._ You are very cautious not to be catch'd. + +_Ga._ In the mean Time I take a special Care of three Things. + +_Er._ What are they? + +_Ga._ First of all to make a good Progress in Morality, and if I can't +do that, I am resolv'd to maintain an unspotted Innocence and good +Name; and last of all I furnish myself with Languages and Sciences that +will be of Use in any Kind of Life. + +_Er._ But do you neglect the Poets? + +_Ga._ Not wholly, but I read generally the chastest of them, and if I +meet with any Thing that is not modest, I pass that by, as _Ulysses_ +passed by the _Sirens_, stopping his Ears. + +_Er._ To what Kind of Study do you chiefly addict your self? To Physic, +the Common or Civil Law, or to Divinity? For Languages, the Sciences and +Philosophy are all conducive to any Profession whatsoever. + +_Ga._ I have not yet thoroughly betaken myself to any one particularly, +but I take a Taste of all, that I be not wholly ignorant of any; and the +rather, that having tasted of all I may the better chuse that I am +fittest for. Medicine is a certain Portion in whatsoever Land a Man is; +the Law is the Way to Preferment: But I like Divinity the best, saving +that the Manners of some of the Professors of it, and the bitter +Contentions that are among them, displease me. + +_Er._ He won't be very apt to fall that goes so warily along. Many in +these Days are frighted from Divinity, because they are afraid they +should not be found in the Catholick Faith, because they see no +Principle of Religion, but what is called in Question. + +_Ga._ I believe firmly what I read in the holy Scriptures, and the +Creed, called the Apostles, and I don't trouble my Head any farther: I +leave the rest to be disputed and defined by the Clergy, if they please; +and if any Thing is in common Use with Christians that is not repugnant +to the holy Scriptures, I observe it for this Reason, that I may not +offend other People. + +_Er._ What _Thales_ taught you that Philosophy? + +_Ga._ When I was a Boy and very young, I happen'd to live in the House +with that honestest of Men, _John Colet_, do you know him? + +_Er._ Know him, ay, as well as I do you. + +_Ga._ He instructed me when I was young in these Precepts. + +_Er._ You won't envy me, I hope, if I endeavour to imitate you? + +_Ga._ Nay, by that Means you will be much dearer to me. For you know, +Familiarity and good Will, are closer ty'd by Similitude of Manners. + +_Er._ True, but not among Candidates for the same Office, when they are +both sick of the same Disease. + +_Ga._ No, nor between two Sweet-hearts of the same Mistress, when they +are both sick of the same Love. + +_Er._ But without jesting, I'll try to imitate that Course of Life. + +_Ga._ I wish you as good Success as may be. + +_Er._ It may be I shall overtake thee. + +_Ga._ I wish you might get before me; but in the mean Time I won't stay +for you; but I will every Day endeavour to out-go myself, and do you +endeavour to out-go me if you can. + + + + +_The ART OF HUNTING._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with the Art of Hunting; + Fishing, of bringing Earth-Worms out of the Ground, of + sticking Frogs._ + + +PAUL, THOMAS, VINCENT, LAWRENCE, BARTHOLUS. + +_Pa. Every one to his Mind._ I love Hunting. + +_Th._ And so do I too, but where are the Dogs? The hunting Poles? And +the hunting Nets? + +_Pa._ Farewell Boars, Bears, Bucks, and Foxes, we'll lay Snares for +Rabbets. + +_Vi._ But I'll set Gins for Locusts and Crickets. + +_La._ But I'll catch Frogs. + +_Ba._ I'll hunt Butterflies. + +_La._ 'Tis difficult to follow flying Creatures. + +_Ba._ It is difficult, but 'tis fine Sport; unless you think it finer +Sport to hunt after Earth-Worms, Snails or Cockles, because they have no +Wings. + +_La._ Indeed I had rather go a Fishing; I have a neat Hook. + +_Ba._ But where will you get Baits? + +_La._ There are Earth-Worms enough every where to be had. + +_Ba._ So there is, if they would but creep out of the Ground to you. + +_La._ But I'll make a great many thousand jump out presently. + +_Ba._ How? By Witch-Craft? + +_La._ You shall see the Art. Fill this Bucket with Water, break these +green Peels of Walnuts to Pieces and put into it: Wet the Ground with +the Water. Now mind a little, do you see them coming out? + +_Ba._ I see a Miracle. I believe the armed Men started out of the Earth +after this Manner from the Serpents Teeth that were sown: But a great +many Fish are of too fine and delicate a Palate to be catch'd by such a +vulgar Bait. + +_La._ I know a certain Sort of an Insect that I us'd to catch such with. + +_Ba._ See if you can impose upon the Fishes so, I'll make work with the +Frogs. + +_La._ How, with a Net? + +_Ba._ No, with a Bow. + +_La._ That's a new Way of Fishing! + +_Ba._ But 'tis a pleasant one; you'll say so, when you see it. + +_Vi._ What if we two should play at holding up our Fingers? + +_Ba._ That's an idle, clownish Play indeed, fitter for them that are +sitting in a Chimney Corner, than those that are ranging in the Field. + +_Vi._ What if we should play at Cob-Nut? + +_Pa._ Let us let Nuts alone for little Chits, we are great Boys. + +_Vi._ And yet we are but Boys for all that. + +_Pa._ But they that are fit to play at Cob-Nut, are fit to ride upon a +Hobby-Horse. + +_Vi._ Well then, do you say what we shall play at; and I'll play at what +you will. + +_Pa._ And I'll be conformable. + + + + +_SCHOLASTIC STUDIES._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy treats of scholastic Studies, and School + Plays, I. The Boys going into the School. The striking of + a Clock. A whipping Master. Of saying a Lesson. Fear + hurts the Memory. 2. Of Writing, the Paper sinks. Of + making a Pen. Of a hard Nip. A soft Nip. Of writing + quick, well._ + + +SYLVIUS, JOHN. + +_Sy._ What makes you run so, _John?_ + +_Jo._ What makes a Hare run before the Dogs, as they use to say? + +_Sy._ What Proverb is this? + +_Jo._ Because unless I am there in Time, before the Bill is called over, +I am sure to be whipp'd. + +_Sy._ You need not be afraid of that, it is but a little past five: Look +upon the Clock, the Hand is not come to the half Hour Point yet. + +_Jo._ Ay, but I can scarce trust to Clocks, they go wrong sometimes. + +_Sy._ But trust me then, I heard the Clock strike. + +_Jo._ What did that strike? + +_Sy._ Five. + +_Jo._ But there is something else that I am more afraid of than that, I +must say by Heart a good long Lesson for Yesterday, and I am afraid I +can't say it. + +_Sy._ I am in the same Case with you; for I myself have hardly got mine +as it should be. + +_Jo._ And you know the Master's Severity. Every Fault is a Capital one +with him: He has no more Mercy of our Breeches, than if they were made +of a Bull's Hide. + +_Sy._ But he won't be in the School. + +_Jo._ Who has he appointed in his Place? + +_Sy. Cornelius._ + +_Jo._ That squint-ey'd Fellow! Wo to our Back-Sides, he's a greater +Whip-Master than _Busby_ himself. + +_Sy._ You say very true, and for that Reason I have often wish'd he had +a Palsy in his Arm. + +_Jo._ It is not pious to wish ill to ones Master: it is our Business +rather to take Care not to fall under the Tyrant's Hands. + +_Sy._ Let us say one to another, one repeating and the other looking in +the Book. + +_Jo._ That's well thought on. + +_Sy._ Come, be of good Heart; for Fear spoils the Memory. + +_Jo._ I could easily lay aside Fear, if I were out of Danger; but who +can be at Ease in his Mind, that is in so much Danger. + +_Sy._ I confess so; but we are not in Danger of our Heads, but of our +Tails. + + * * * * * + +2. _Of Writing._ + +CORNELIUS, ANDREW. + +_Co._ You write finely, but your Paper sinks. Your Paper is damp, and +the Ink sinks through it. + +_An._ Pray make me a Pen of this. + +_Co._ I have not a Pen-knife. + +_An._ Here is one for you. + +_Co._ Out on't, how blunt it is! + +_An._ Take the Hoan. + +_Co._ Do you love to write with a hard-nip'd Pen, or a soft? + +_An._ Make it fit for your own Hand. + +_Co._ I use to write with a soft Nip. + +_An._ Pray write me out the Alphabet. + +_Co._ Greek or Latin? + +_An._ Write me the Latin first; I'll try to imitate it. + +_Co._ Give me some Paper then. + +_An._ Take some. + +_Co._ But my Ink is too thin, by often pouring in of Water. + +_An._ But my Cotton is quite dry. + +_Co._ Squeeze it, or else piss in it. + +_An._ I had rather get some Body to give me some. + +_Co._ It is better to have of one's own, than to borrow. + +_An._ What's a Scholar without Pen and Ink? + +_Co._ The same that a Soldier is without Shield or Sword. + +_An._ I wish my Fingers were so nimble, I can't write as fast as another +speaks. + +_Co._ Let it be your first chief Care to write well, and your next to +write quick: No more Haste than good Speed. + +_An._ Very well; say to the Master when he dictates, no more Haste than +good Speed. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of giving Thanks. + +PETER, CHRISTIAN._ + +_Pe._ You have oblig'd me, in that you have written to me sometimes. I +thank you for writing to me often. I love you, that you have not thought +much to send me now and then a Letter. I give you Thanks that you have +visited me with frequent Letters. I thank you for loading of me with +Packets of Letters. I thank you heartily that you have now and then +provoked me with Letters. You have oblig'd me very much that you have +honour'd me with your Letters. I am much beholden to you for your most +obliging Letters to me. I take it as a great Favour, that you have not +thought much to write to me. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I ought to beg Pardon for my Presumption, who dar'd presume +to trouble a Man of so much Business, and so much Learning with my +unlearned Letters. I acknowledge your usual Humanity, who have taken my +Boldness in good Part. I was afraid my Letters had given you some +Offence, that you sent me no Answer. There is no Reason that you should +thank me, it is more than enough for me, if you have taken my Industry +in good Part. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of asking after News._ + +_Pe._ Is there no News come from our Country? Have you had any News from +our Countrymen? What News? Do you bring any News? Is there any News come +to Town? Is there any News abroad from our Country? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ There is much News; but nothing of Truth. News enough indeed; but +nothing certain. A great deal of News; but nothing to be depended upon. +Not a little News; but not much Truth. There is no News come. I have had +no News at all. Something of News; but nothing certain. There are a +great many Reports come to Town; but they are all doubtful. There is a +great deal of Talk; but nothing true, nothing certain. If Lies please, I +have brought you a whole Cart-Load of them. I bring you whole Bushels of +Tales. I bring you as many Lies as a good Ship will carry. + +_Pe._ Then unlade yourself as fast as you can, for fear you should sink, +being so over-freighted. + +_Ch._ I have nothing but what's the Chat of Barbers Shops, Coaches and +Boats. + + +_Han't you received any Letters. The Form_. + +_Pe._ Have you had no Letters? Have you had any Letters out of your own +Country? Have no Letters been brought to you? Have you receiv'd any +Letters? Have you had any Letters? Have you receiv'd any Letters from +your Friends? Are there no Letters come from _France_? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Ch._ I have received no Letters. I han't had so much as a Letter. I +han't had the least Bit of a Letter. No Body has sent me any Letter. +There is not the least Word come from any Body. I have received no more +Letters for this long Time, than what you see in my Eye. Indeed I had +rather have Money than Letters. I had rather receive Money than Letters. +I don't matter Letters, so the Money does but come. I had rather be +paid, than be written to. + + * * * * * + +_I believe so. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I easily believe you. That is not hard to be believ'd. It is a +very easy Thing to believe that. Who would not believe you in that? He +will be very incredulous, that won't believe you in that Matter. In +Truth I do believe you. You will easily make me believe that. I can +believe you without swearing. What you say is very likely. But for all +that, Letters bring some Comfort. I had rather have either of them, than +neither. + + * * * * * + +_Of Profit. A Form._ + +_Ch._ What signifies Letters without Money? What signifies empty +Letters? What do empty Letters avail? What good do they do, what do they +profit, advantage? To whom are Letters grateful or acceptable without +Money? What Advantage do empty Letters bring? What are idle Letters good +for? What do they do? What use are they of? What are they good for? What +do they bring with them of Moment? What Use are empty Letters of? + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ They are useful, fit, proper, to wipe your Breech with. They are +good to wipe your Backside with. If you don't know the Use of them, they +are good to wipe your Arse with. To wipe your Breech with. To wipe your +Backside with. They are good to cleanse that Part of the Body that often +fouls itself. They are good to wrap Mackrel in. Good to make up Grocery +Ware in. + + * * * * * + +_Of wishing well._ + +1. _To a Man whose Wife is with Child._ + +_Pe._ What? are our little Friends well? How does your Wife do? + +_Ch._ Very well, I left her with her Mother, and with Child. + +_Pe._ I wish it may be well for you, and her too: To you, because you're +shortly to be a Father, and she a Mother. God be with you. I pray and +desire that it may be prosperous and happy to you both. I pray, I beg of +God that she, having a safe Delivery, may bear a Child worthy of you +both; and may make you a Father of a fine Child. I commend you that you +have shewed yourself to be a Man. I am glad you have prov'd yourself to +be a Man. You have shew'd yourself to be a Gallus, but not _Cybele_'s. +Now you may go, I believe you are a Man. + +_Ch._ You joke upon me, as you are used to do. Well, go on, you may say +what you please to me. + + * * * * * + +2. _To one coming Home into his own Country._ + +_Ch._ I hear, you have lately been in your own Country. + +_Pe._ I have so, I had been out of it a pretty While. I could not bear +to be out of it long. I could not bear to be out of my Parents Sight any +longer. I thought it long till I enjoy'd my Friends Company. + +_Ch._ You have acted very piously. You are very good Humour'd, to think +of those Matters. We have all a strange Affection for the Country that +hath bred us, and brought us forth. + +_As_ Ovid _says_: + + _Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine cunctos + Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui._ + +Pray tell me how did you find all Things there. + + * * * * * + +_All Things new. The Form._ + +_Pe._ Nothing but what was new. All Things changed, all Things become +new. See how soon Time changes all human Affairs. Methought I came into +another World. I had scarce been absent ten Years, and yet I admired at +every Thing, as much as _Epimenides_ the Prince of Sleepers, when he +first wak'd out of his Sleep. + +_Ch._ What Story is that? What Fable is that? + +_Pe._ I'll tell you if you are at Leisure. + +_Ch._ There is nothing more pleasant. + +_Pe._ Then order me a Chair and a Cushion. + +_Ch._ That's very well thought on, for you will tell Lyes the better, +sitting at Ease. + +_Pe._ Historians tell us a Story, of one _Epimenides_ a Man of _Crete_, +who taking a Walk alone by himself without the City, being caught in a +hasty Shower of Rain, went for Shelter into a Cave, and there fell +asleep, and slept on for seven and forty Years together. + + +_I don't believe it. The Form._ + +_Ch._ What a Story you tell? 'Tis incredible. What you say is not very +likely. You tell me a Fiction. I don't think 'tis true. You tell me a +monstrous Story. Are you not asham'd to be guilty of so wicked a Lye? +This is a Fable fit to be put among _Lucian's_ Legends. + +_Pe._ Nay, I tell you what is related by Authors of Credit, unless you +think _Aulus Gellius_ is not an Author of approv'd Credit. + +_Ch._ Nay, whatsoever he has written are Oracles to me. + +_Pe._ Do you think that a Divine dream'd so many Years? For it is +storied that he was a Divine. + +_Ch._ I am with Child to hear. + + +_The Answer._ + +_Pe._ What is it more than what _Scotus_ and the School-men did +afterwards? But _Epimenides_, he came off pretty well, he came to +himself again at last; but a great many Divines never wake out of their +Dreams. + +_Ch._ Well go on, you do like a Poet; But go on with your Lye. + +_Pe._ _Epimenides_ waking out of his Sleep, goes out of his Cave, and +looks about him, and sees all Things chang'd, the Woods, the Banks, the +Rivers, the Trees, the Fields; and, in short, there was nothing but was +new: He goes to the City, and enquires; he stays there a little While, +but knows no Body, nor did any Body know him: the Men were dress'd after +another Fashion, than what they were before; they had not the same +Countenances; their Speech was alter'd, and their Manners quite +different: Nor do I wonder it was so with _Epimenides_, after so many +Years, when it was almost so with me, when I had been absent but a few +Years. + +_Ch._ But how do your Father and Mother do? Are they living? + +_Pe._ They are both alive and well; but pretty much worn out with old +Age, Diseases, and lastly, with the Calamities of War. + +_Ch._ This is the Comedy of human Life. This is the inevitable Law of +Destiny. + + * * * * * + +_Words, Names of Affinity._ + +_Pe._ Will you sup at Home to Day? + +_Ch._ I am to sup abroad: I must go out to Supper. + +_Pe._ With whom? + +_Ch._ With my Father in Law; with my Son in Law; at my Daughter's in +Law; with my Kinsman. They are call'd, _Affines_, Kinsmen, who are +ally'd not by Blood, but Marriage. + +_Pe._ What are the usual Names of Affinity? + +_Ch._ A Husband and Wife are noted Names. _Socer_, Is my Wife's Father. +_Gener_, My Daughter's Husband. _Socrus_, My Wife's Mother. _Nurus_, My +Son's Wife. _Levir_, A Husband's Brother. _Levir_ is call'd by the Wife, +as _Helen_ calls _Hector_, _Levir_, because she was married to _Paris_. +_Fratria_, My Brother's Wife. _Glos_, A Husband's Sister. _Vitricus_, My +Mother's Husband. _Noverca_, My Father's Wife. _Privignus_, The Son of +my Wife or Husband. _Privigna_, The Daughter of either of them. +_Rivalis_, He that loves the same Woman another does. _Pellex_, She that +loves the same Man another does; as _Thraso_ is the Rival of +_Phroedria_, and _Europa_ the _Pellex_ of _Juno_. + + * * * * * + +_Of inviting to a Feast._ + +_Dine with me to Morrow._ + +_Pe._ I give you Thanks, I commend you, I invite you to Supper against +to Morrow, I entreat your Company at Supper to Morrow. I desire you'd +come to Dinner with me to Morrow. I would have your Company at Dinner +to Morrow. + + +_I fear I can't come._ + +_Ch._ I fear I can't. I am afraid I can't. I will come if I can; but I +am afraid I can't. + + +_Why?_ + +_Pe._ Why can't you? How so? Why so? Wherefore? For what Reason? For +what Cause? What hinders you that you can't. + + +_I must stay at Home._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I must be at Home at that Time. I must needs be at Home at +Night. I must not be abroad at that Time. I shall not have an +Opportunity to go out any where to Morrow. I must not be absent at +Dinner. I expect some Guests myself upon that Day. Some Friends have +made an Appointment to sup at our House that Night. I have some Guests +to entertain that Night, or else I would come with all my Heart. Unless +it were so, I would not be unwilling to come. If it were not so, I +should not want much entreating. I would make no Excuse if I could come. +If I could come, I would not be ask'd twice. If I could by any Means +come, I would come with a very little, or without any Invitation at all. +If I could, I would obey your Command very readily. It is in vain to ask +one that is not at his own Disposal: And there would be no need to ask +me if I could come: But at present, though I had never so much Mind, I +can't; and it would be altogether unnecessary to ask one that is +willing. + +_Pe._ Then pray let me have your Company the next Day after: However, I +must needs have your Company at Supper the next Day after to Morrow. You +must not deny me your Company four Days hence. You must make no Excuse +as to coming next Thursday. + + +_I can't promise._ + +_Ch._ I can't promise. I cannot positively promise you. I can't +certainly promise you. I will come when it shall be most convenient for +us both. + + +_You ought to set the Day._ + +_Pe._ I would have you appoint a Day when you will come to sup with me. +You must assign a Day. You must set the Day. I desire a certain Day may +be prefix'd, prescrib'd, appointed, set; but set a certain Day. I would +have you tell me the Day. + + +_I would not have you know before Hand._ + +_Ch._ Indeed I don't use to set a Day for my Friends. I am used to set a +Day for those I'm at Law with. I would not have you know before Hand. +I'll take you at unawares. I'll come unexpectedly. I will catch you when +you don't think on me. I shall take you when you don't think on me. I'll +come unlooked for. I'll come upon you before you are aware. I'll come an +uninvited and unexpected Guest. + + +_I would know before Hand._ + +_Pe._ I would know two Days before Hand. Give me Notice two Days before +you come. Make me acquainted two Days before. + +_Ch._ If you will have me, I'll make a _Sybaritical_ Appointment, that +you may have Time enough to provide afore Hand. + +_Pe._ What Appointment is that? + +_Ch._ The _Sybarites_ invited their Guests against the next Year, that +they might both have Time to be prepar'd. + +_Pe._ Away with the _Sybarites_, and their troublesome Entertainments: I +invite an old Chrony, and not a Courtier. + + +_You desire to your own Detriment._ + +_Ch._ Indeed 'tis to your Detriment. Indeed 'tis to your own Harm. To +your own Loss. You wish for it. You pray for that to your own +Ill-convenience. + +_Pe._ Why so? Wherefore. + +_Ch._ I'll come provided. I'll come prepar'd. I'll set upon you +accoutred. I'll come furnish'd with a sharp Stomach; do you take Care +that you have enough to satisfy a Vulture. I'll prepare my Belly and +whet my Teeth; do you look to it, to get enough to satisfy a Wolf. + +_Pe._ Come and welcome, I dare you to it. Come on, if you can do any +Thing, do it to your utmost, with all your Might. + +_Ch._ I'll come, but I won't come alone. + +_Pe._ You shall be the more welcome for that; but who will you bring +with you? + +_Ch._ My _Umbra_. + +_Pe._ You can't do otherwise if you come in the Day Time. + +_Ch._ Ay, but I'll bring one _Umbra_ or two that have got Teeth, that +you shan't have invited me for nothing. + +_Pe._ Well, do as you will, so you don't bring any Ghosts along with +you. But if you please explain what is the Meaning of the Word _Umbra_. + +_Ch._ Among the Learned they are call'd _Umbrae_, who being uninvited, +bear another Person, that is invited, Company to a Feast. + +_Pe._ Well, bring such Ghosts along with you as many as you will. + + * * * * * + +_I promise upon this Condition._ + +_Ch._ Well, I will come, but upon this Condition, that you shall come to +Supper with me the next Day. I will do it upon this Condition that you +shall be my Guest afterwards. Upon that Condition I promise to come to +Supper, that you again shall be my Guest. I promise I will, but upon +these Terms, that you in the like Manner shall be my Guest the next Day. +I promise I will, I give you my Word I will, upon this Consideration, +that you dine with me the next Day. + +_Pe._ Come on, let it be done, let it be so. It shall be as you would +have it. If you command me, I'll do it. I know the _French_ Ambition, +You won't sup with me, but you'll make me Amends for it. And so by this +Means Feasts use to go round. From hence it comes to pass, that it is a +long Time before we have done feasting one with another. By this +Interchangeableness Feasts become reciprocal without End. + +_Ch._ It is the pleasantest Way of Living in the World, if no more +Provision be made, but what is used to be made daily. But, I detain you, +it may be, when you are going some whither. + +_Pe._ Nay, I believe, I do you. But we'll talk more largely and more +freely to Morrow. But we'll divert ourselves to Morrow more plentifully. +In the mean Time take Care of your Health. In the mean Time take Care to +keep yourself in good Health. Farewell till then. + + * * * * * + +_Whither are you going? The Form._ + +_Ch._ Where are you a going now? Whither are you going so fast? Where +are you a going in such great Haste. Whither go you? What's your Way? + + * * * * * + +_I go Home. The Form._ + +_Pe._ I go Home. I return Home. I go to see what they are a doing at +Home. I go to call a Doctor. I am going into the Country. I made an +Appointment just at this Time to go to speak with a certain great Man. I +made an Appointment to meet a great Man at this Time. + +_Ch._ Whom? + +_Pe._ Talkative _Curio_. + +_Ch._ I wish you _Mercury_'s Assistance. + +_Pe._ What need of _Mercury_'s Assistance? + +_Ch._ Because you have to do with a Man of Words. + +_Pe._ Then it were more proper to wish the Assistance of the Goddess +_Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Pe._ Because you'll have more Occasion for patient Ears, than a +strenuous Tongue. And the Ear is dedicated to the Goddess _Memoria_. + +_Ch._ Whither are you going? Whither will you go? + +_Pe._ This Way, to the left Hand. This Way, that Way, through the +Market. + +_Ch._ Then I'll bear you Company as far as the next Turning. + +_Pe._ I won't let you go about. You shan't put yourself to so much +Trouble on my Account. Save that Trouble till it shall be of Use, it is +altogether unnecessary at this Time. Don't go out of your Way upon my +Account. + +_Ch._ I reckon I save my Time while I enjoy the Company of so good a +Friend. I have nothing else to do, and I am not so lazy, if my Company +won't be troublesome. + +_Pe._ No Body is a more pleasant Companion. But I won't suffer you to go +on my left Hand. I won't let you walk on my left Hand. Here I bid God be +with you. I shall not bear you Company any longer. You shan't go further +with me. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Recommending._ + +_Ch._ Recommend me kindly to _Curio_. Recommend me as kindly as may be +to talkative _Curio_. Take Care to recommend me heartily to _Curio_. I +desire you have me recommended to him. I recommend myself to him by you. +I recommend myself to you again and again. I recommend myself to your +Favour with all the Earnestness possible. Leave _recommendo_ instead of +_commendo_ to _Barbarians_. See that you don't be sparing of your +Speech with one that is full of Tongue. See that you be not of few Words +with him that is a Man of many Words. + + * * * * * + +_A Form of Obsequiousness._ + +_Pe._ Would you have me obey you? Would you have me be obedient? Shall I +obey you? Then you command me to imitate you. Since you would have it +so, I'll do it with all my Heart. Don't hinder me any longer; don't let +us hinder one another. + +_Ch._ But before you go, I intreat you not to think much to teach me how +I must use these Sentences, _in mora, in causa, in culpa_; you use to be +studious of Elegancy. Wherefore come on, I entreat you teach me; explain +it to me, I love you dearly. + + * * * * * + +_In Culpa, In Causa, In Mora._ + +_Pe._ I must do as you would have me. The Fault is not in me. It is not +in thee. The Delay is in thee. Thou art the Cause, is indeed +grammatically spoken; these are more elegant. + + +_In Culpa._ + +I am not in the Fault. The Fault is not mine. I am without Fault. Your +Idleness has been the Cause, that you have made no Proficiency, not your +Master nor your Father. You are all in Fault. You are both in Fault. You +are both to be blam'd. Ye are both to be accus'd. You have gotten this +Distemper by your own ill Management. In like Manner they are said to be +_in vitio_, to whom the Fault is to be imputed; and _in crimine_, they +who are to be blam'd; and _in damno_, who are Losers. This sort of +Phrase is not to be inverted commonly; _Damnum in illo est. Vitium in +illo est._ + + + * * * * * + +_In Causa._ + +Sickness has been the Occasion that I have not written to you. My +Affairs have been the Cause that I have written to you so seldom, and +not Neglect. What was the Cause? What Cause was there? I was not the +Cause. The Post-Man was in the Fault that you have had no Letters from +me. Love and not Study is the Cause of your being so lean. This is the +Cause. + + +_In Mora._ + +I won't hinder you. What has hinder'd you? You have hindred us. You are +always a Hindrance. What hindred you? Who has hindred you? You have what +you ask'd for. It is your Duty to remember it. You have the Reward of +your Respect. Farewell, my _Christian_. + +_Ch._ And fare you well till to Morrow, my _Peter_. + + * * * * * + +_At Meeting._ + +_CHRISTIAN, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ God save you heartily, sweet _Austin_. + +_Au._ I wish the same to you, most kind _Christian_. Good Morrow to you. +I wish you a good Day; but how do you do? + +_Ch._ Very well as Things go, and I wish you what you wish for. + +_Au._ I love you deservedly. I love thee. Thou deservest to be lov'd +heartily. Thou speakest kindly. Thou art courteous. I give thee Thanks. + + * * * * * + +_I am angry with thee. The Form._ + +_Ch._ But I am something angry with you. But I am a little angry with +you. But I am a little provok'd at you. I have something to be angry +with you for. + + + * * * * * + +_For what Cause. The Form._ + +_Au._ I pray what is it? Why so? But why, I beseech you? What Crime have +I committed? What have I done? _Promereor bona_, I deserve Good; +_Commereor mala_, I deserve Ill, or Punishment: The one is used in a +good Sense, and the other in an ill. _Demeremur eum_, is said of him +that we have attach'd to us by Kindness. + + + * * * * * + +_Because you don't Regard me._ + +_Ch._ Because you take no Care of me. Because you don't regard me. +Because you come to see us so seldom. Because you wholly neglect us. +Because you quite neglect me. Because you seem to have cast off all Care +of us. + +_Au._ But there is no Cause for you to be angry. But you are angry +without my Desert, and undeservedly; for it has not been my Fault, that +I have come to see you but seldom: Forgive my Hurry of Business that has +hindered me from seeing you, as often as I would have done. + +_Ch._ I will pardon you upon this Condition, if you'll come to Supper +with me to Night. I'll quit you upon that Condition, if you come to +Supper with me in the Evening. + +_Au. Christian_, you prescribe no hard Articles of Peace, and therefore +I'll come with all my Heart. Indeed I will do it willingly. Indeed I +would do that with all Readiness in the World. I shan't do that +unwillingly. I won't want much Courting to that. There is nothing in the +World that I would do with more Readiness. I will do it with a willing +Mind. + +_Ch._ I commend your obliging Temper in this, and in all other Things. + +_Au._ I use always to be thus obsequious to my Friends, especially when +they require nothing but what's reasonable. O ridiculous! Do you think I +would refuse when offer'd me, that which I should have ask'd for of my +own Accord? + + + + * * * * * + +_Don't deceive me. The Form._ + +_Ch._ Well, but take Care you don't delude me. See you don't deceive me. +Take Care you don't make me feed a vain Hope. See you don't fail my +Expectation. See you don't disappoint me. See you don't lull me on with +a vain Hope. + +_Au._ There is no Need to swear. In other Things, in other Matters you +may be afraid of Perfidy. In this I won't deceive you. But hark you, see +that you provide nothing but what you do daily: I would have no holy Day +made upon my Account. You know that I am a Guest that am no great +Trencher Man, but a very merry Man. + +_Ch._ I'll be sure to take Care. I will entertain you with Scholars +Commons, if not with slenderer Fare. + +_Au._ Nay, if you'd please me, let it be with _Diogenes_'s Fare. + +_Ch._ You may depend upon it, I will treat you with a _Platonick_ +Supper, in which you shall have a great many learned Stories, and but a +little Meat, the Pleasure of which shall last till the next Day: whereas +they that have been nobly entertain'd, enjoy perhaps a little Pleasure +that Day, but the next are troubled with the Head-ach, and Sickness at +the Stomach. He that supp'd with _Plato_, had one Pleasure from the easy +Preparation, and Philosopher's Stories; and another the next Day, that +his Head did not ach, and that his Stomach was not sick, and so had a +good Dinner of the sauce of last Night's Supper. + +_Au._ I like it very well, let it be as you have said. + +_Ch._ Do you see that you leave all your Cares and melancholy Airs at +Home, and bring nothing hither but Jokes and Merriment; and as _Juvenal_ +says, + + _Protenus ante meum, quicquid dolet, exue limen. + + Lay all that troubles you down before my Door, before you come into it._ + +_Au._ What? Would you have me bring no Learning along with me? I will +bring my Muses with me, unless you think it not convenient. + +_Ch._ Shut up your ill-natured Muses at Home with your Business, but +bring your good-natured Muses, all your witty Jests, your By-words, your +Banters, your Pleasantries, your pretty Sayings, and all your +Ridiculosities along with you. + +_Au._ I'll do as you bid me; put on all my best Looks. We'll be merry +Fellows. We'll laugh our Bellies full. We'll make much of ourselves. +We'll feast jovially. We'll play the _Epicureans_. We'll set a good Face +on't, and be boon Blades. These are fine Phrases of clownish Fellows +that have a peculiar Way of speaking to themselves. + +_Ch._ Where are you going so fast? + +_Au._ To my Son's in Law. + +_Ch._ What do you do there? Why thither? What do you with him? + +_Au._ I hear there is Disturbance among them; I am going to make them +Friends again, to bring them to an Agreement; to make Peace among them. + +_Ch._ You do very well, though I believe they don't want you; for they +will make the Matter up better among themselves. + +_Au._ Perhaps there is a Cessation of Arms, and the Peace is to be +concluded at Night. But have you any Thing else to say to me? + +_Ch._ I will send my Boy to call you. + +_Au._ When you please. I shall be at Home. Farewell. + +_Ch._ I wish you well. See that you be here by five a-Clock. Soho +_Peter_, call _Austin_ to Supper, who you know promised to come to +Supper with me to Day. + +_Pe._ Soho! Poet, God bless you, Supper has been ready this good While, +and my Master stays for you at Home, you may come when you will. + +_Au._ I come this Minute. + + + + +_The PROFANE FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Our_ Erasmus _most elegantly proposes all the Furniture + of this Feast; the Discourses and Behaviour of the + Entertainer and the Guests_, &c. _Water and a Bason + before Dinner. The_ Stoics, _the_ Epicureans; _the Form + of the Grace at Table. It is good Wine that pleases four + Senses. Why_ Bacchus _is the Poets God; why he is painted + a Boy. Mutton very wholsome. That a Man does not live by + Bread and Wine only. Sleep makes some Persons fat. + Venison is dear. Concerning Deers, Hares, and Geese: They + of old defended the Capitol at_ Rome. _Of Cocks, Capons + and Fishes. Here is discoursed of by the by, Fasting. Of + the Choice of Meats. Some Persons Superstition in that + Matter. The Cruelty of those Persons that require these + Things of those Persons they are hurtful to; when the + eating of Fish is neither necessary, nor commanded by + Christ. The eating of Fish is condemned by Physicians. + The chief Luxury of old Time consisted in Fishes. We + should always live a sober Life. What Number of Guests + there should be at an Entertainment. The Bill of Fare of + the second Course. The Magnificence of the_ French. _The + ancient Law of Feasts. Either drink, or begone. A + Variation of Phrases. Thanksgiving after Meat._ + + +AUSTIN, CHRISTIAN, _a_ BOY. + +_Au._ O, my _Christian_, God bless you. + +_Ch._ It is very well that you are come. I am glad you're come. I +congratulate myself that you are come. I believe it has not struck five +yet. + +_Boy._ Yes, it is a good While past five. It is not far from six. It is +almost six. You'll hear it strike six presently. + +_Au._ It is no great Matter whether I come before five or after five, as +long as I am not come after Supper; for that is a miserable Thing, to +come after a Feast is over. What's all this great Preparation for? What +means all this Provision? What, do you think I'm a Wolf? Do you take me +for a Wolf? Do you think I'm a Vulture? + +_Ch._ Not a Vulture, nor yet do I think you a Grashopper, to live upon +Dew. Here is nothing of Extravagancy, I always lov'd Neatness, and abhor +Slovenliness. I am for being neither luxurious nor niggardly. We had +better leave than lack. If I dress'd but one Dish of Peas, and the Soot +should chance to fall in the Pot and spoil it, what should we have to +eat then? Nor does every Body love one Thing; therefore I love a +moderate Variety. + +_Au._ An't you afraid of the sumptuary Laws? + +_Ch._ Nay, I most commonly offend on the contrary Side. There is no need +of the _Fannian_ Law at our House. The Slenderness of my Income teaches +me Frugality sufficiently. + +_Au._ This is contrary to our Agreement. You promised me quite +otherwise. + +_Ch._ Well, Mr. Fool, you don't stand to your Agreement. For it was +agreed upon that you should bring nothing but merry Tales. But let us +have done with these Matters, and wash, and sit down to Supper. Soho, +Boy, bring a little Water and a Bason; hang a Towel over your Shoulder, +pour out some Water. What do you loiter for? Wash, _Austin_. + +_Au._ Do you wash first. + +_Ch._ Pray excuse me. I had rather eat my Supper with unwashen Hands +this twelve Months. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! 'Tis not he that is the most honourable, but he +that is the dirtiest that should wash first; then do you wash as the +dirtiest. + +_Ch._ You are too complaisant. You are more complaisant than enough; +than is fitting. But to what Purpose is all this Ceremony? Let us leave +these trifling Ceremonies to Women, they are quite kick'd out of the +Court already, although they came from thence at first. Wash three or +four at a Time. Don't let us spend the Time in these Delays. I won't +place any Body, let every one take what Place he likes best. He that +loves to sit by the Fire, will sit best here. He that can't bear the +Light let him take this Corner. He that loves to look about him, let him +sit here. Come, here has been Delays enough. Sit down. I am at Home, +I'll take my Supper standing, or walking about, which I like best. Why +don't you sit down, Supper will be spoiled. + +_Au._ Now let us enjoy ourselves, and eat heartily. Now let us be +_Epicures_. We have nothing to do with Superciliousness. Farewell Care, +let all Ill-will and Detraction be banished. Let us be merry, pleasant, +and facetious. + +_Ch. Austin_, pray who are those _Stoics_ and _Epicures_? + +_Au._ The _Stoics_ are a certain melancholy, rigid, parcimonious Sect of +Philosophers, who make the _Summum bonum_ of Mankind, to consist in a +certain, I can't tell what, _honestum_. The _Epicures_ are the Reverse +of these, and they make the Felicity of a Man to consist in Pleasure. + +_Ch._ Pray what Sect are you of, a _Stoic_ or an _Epicure_? + +_Au._ I recommend _Zeno_'s Rules; but I follow _Epicurus_'s Practice. + +_Ch. Austin_, what you speak in Jest, a great many do in Earnest, and +are only Philosophers by their Cloaks and Beards. + +_Au._ Nay, indeed they out-live the _Asots_ in Luxury. + +_Ch. Dromo_, come hither. Do your Office, say Grace. + +_Boy._ "May he that feeds all Things by his Bounty, command his Blessing +upon what is or shall be set upon this Table. Amen." + +_Ch._ Set the Victuals on the Table. Why do we delay to eat up this +Capon? Why are we afraid to carve this Cock? + +_Au._ I'll be _Hercules_, and slay this Beast. Which had you rather +have, a Wing or a Leg? + +_Ch._ Which you will, I don't matter which. + +_Au._ In this Sort of Fowls the Wing is look'd upon the best; in other +Fowls the Leg is commonly esteemed the greater dainty Bit. + +_Ch._ I put you to a great Deal of Trouble. You take a great Deal of +Trouble upon you, upon my Account. You help every Body else, and eat +nothing yourself. I'll help you to this Wing; but upon this Condition, +that you shall give me Half of it back. + +_Au._ Say you so, that is serving yourself and not me; keep it for +yourself. I am not so bashful as to want any Body to help me. + +_Ch._ You do very well. + +_Au._ Do you carve for a Wolf? Have you invited a Vulture? + +_Ch._ You fast. You don't eat. + +_Au._ I eat more than any Body. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather, you lye more than any Body. Pray be as free as if you +were at your own House. + +_Au._ I take myself to be there. I do so. I am resolv'd so to do. I +design to do so. + +_Ch._ How does this Wine please you? Does this Wine please your Palate? + +_Au._ Indeed it pleases me very well. Indeed it pleases mightily. It +pleases me well enough. It pleases me very well. + +_Ch._ Which had you rather have, Red or White? + +_It is no Matter what Colour it is._ + +_Au._ Indeed I like both alike. It is no Matter what Colour 'tis, so the +Taste be pleasing. I don't much mind how the Wine pleases the Eye, so it +do but please the Palate. I an't much mov'd at the Sight of it, if the +Taste be but grateful. It is no great Matter what Colour it is of, or +what Colour it has, if it does but taste well. I don't desire to please +my Eyes if I can but please my Taste. If it do but please the Palate, I +don't regard the Colour, if it be well relish'd. + +_Ch._ I believe so: But there are some Persons that are mighty deeply +read in Table Philosophy, who deny that the Wine can be good, unless it +pleases four Senses: The Eye, with its Colour; the Nose, with its Smell; +the Palate, with its Taste; the Ears, by its Fame and Name. + +_Au._ O ridiculous! What signifies Fame to Drink? + +_Ch._ As much as many that have a good Palate mightily approve of +_Lovain_ Wine, when they believe it to be _Bern_ Wine. + +_Au._ It may be, they had spoiled their Palate by much Drinking. + +_Ch._ No, before they had drank one Drop. But I have a Mind to hear your +Opinion, who are a Man of great Skill in these Matters. + +_Au._ Our Countrymen prefer White before Red, because the Red is a +little more upon the Acid, and the White a smaller Wine; but that is the +milder, and in my Opinion the more wholsome. + +_Ch._ We have a pale red Wine, and a yellow Wine, and a purple Colour +Wine. This is new Wine, this Year's Wine. This is two Years old, if any +Body is for an old Wine. We have some four Years old, but it is grown +flat and dead with Age. The Strength is gone with Age. + +_Au._ Why, you're as rich as _Lucullus_. + +_Ch._ Soho, Boy, where are you a loitering? You give us no Attendance; +don't you see we have no Wine here? What if a Fire should happen now? +How should we put it out? Give every one a full Glass. _Austin_, What's +the matter that you are not merry? What makes you sit so Melancholy? +What's the Matter with you, that you an't chearful? You are either +troubled at something, or you're making Verses. You play the +_Crysippus_ now, you want a _Melissa_ to feed you. + +_Au._ What Story is this you are telling me of? + +_Ch. Crysippus_ is reported to have been so intent upon his logical +Subtilties, that he would have been starved at Table, unless his Maid +_Melissa_ had put the Meat into his Mouth. + +_Au._ He did not deserve to have his Life sav'd; but if Silence is an +Offence to you, and you love a noisy Feast, you have gotten that will +make one. + +_Ch._ I remember I have. That's very well minded: We must drink more +freely, we ought to drink more largely, more Wine and less Water. + + _You have hit on the Matter._ + +_Au._ You have hit the Nail on the Head. You are in the Right. You have +hit the Mark. For, + +_Foecundi calices quem non fecere disertum?_ + +_Ch._ That is very learnedly spoken, _Austin_, and so indeed is all that +comes from you; but since we are fallen into a Discourse concerning +Wine, since we have happen'd to make mention of Wine, I have a mind to +ask you, for what Reason the Ancients, who will have _Bacchus_ the +Inventor of Wine, call him the God of the Poets? What has that drunken +God to do with Poets, who are the Votaries of the Virgin Muses? + +_Au._ By _Bacchus_, this is a Question fit to be put over a Bottle. But +I see very well, what your Question drives at. + +_Ch._ What, prithee? + +_Au._ You very cunningly put a Question about Wine, by a _French_ Trick, +which I believe you learn'd at _Paris_, that you may save your Wine by +that Means. Ah, go your Way, I see you're a Sophister; you have made a +good Proficiency in that School. + +_Ch._ Well, I take all your Jokes; I'll return the like to you, when +Opportunity shall offer. But to the Matter in Hand. + +_Au._ I'll go on, but I'll drink first, for it is absurd to dispute +about a tippling Question with a dry Throat. Here's to you _Christian_. +Half this Cup to you. + +_Ch._ I thank you kindly. God bless it to you, much good may it do you. + +_Au._ Now I'm ready, at your Service. I'll do it as well as I can after +my Manner. That they have given a Boy's Face to _Bacchus_, has this +Mystery in it; that Wine being drank, takes away Cares and Vexations +from our Minds, and adds a Sort of a Chearfulness to them. And for this +Reason, it adds a Sort of Youthfulness even to old Men, in that it makes +them more chearful, and of a better Complexion. The same thing _Horace_ +in many Places, and particularly testifies in these Verses: + + _Ad mare cum veni, generosum et lene requiro, + Quod curas abigat, quod cum spe divite manet. + In venas, animumque meum, quod verba ministret. + Quod me Lucanoe juvenem commendet amicae._ + +For that they have assign'd the Poets to this Deity, I believe by it +they design'd to intimate this, that Wine both stirs up Wit and +administers Eloquence; which two Things are very fit for Poets. Whence +it comes to pass, that your Water Drinkers make poor Verses. For +_Bacchus_ is of a fiery Constitution naturally, but he is made more +temperate, being united with the Nymphs. Have you been answer'd to your +Satisfaction? + +_Ch._ I never heard any Thing more to the Purpose from a Poet. You +deserve to drink out of a Cup set with Jewels. Boy, take away this Dish, +and set on another. + +_Au._ You have got a very clownish Boy. + +_Ch._ He is the unluckiest Knave in the World. + +_Au._ Why don't you teach him better Manners? + +_Ch._ He is too old to learn. It is a hard matter to mend the Manners of +an old Sinner. An old Dog won't be easily brought to wear the Collar. +He's well enough for me. Like Master like Man. + + + * * * * * + +_If I knew what you lik'd, I would help you._ + +_Au._ I would cut you a Slice, if I knew what would please you. I would +help you, if I knew your Palate. I would help you, if I knew what you +lik'd best. If I knew the Disposition of your Palate, I would be your +Carver. Indeed my Palate is like my Judgment. + +_Ch._ You have a very nice Palate. No Body has a nicer Palate than you +have. I don't think you come behind him of whose exquisite Skill the +Satyrist says, + + _Ostrea callebat primo deprendere morsu, + Et semel aspecti dicebat littus echini._ + +_Au._ And you, my _Christian_, that I may return the Compliment, seem to +have been Scholar to _Epicurus_, or brought up in the _Catian_ School. +For what's more delicate or nice than your Palate? + +_Ch._ If I understood Oratory so well as I do Cookery, I'd challenge +_Cicero_ himself. + +_Au._ Indeed if I must be without one, I had rather want Oratory than +Cookery. + +_Ch._ I am entirely of your Mind, you judge gravely, wisely, and truly. +For what is the Prattle of Orators good for, but to tickle idle Ears +with a vain Pleasure? But Cookery feeds and repairs the Palate, the +Belly, and the whole Man, let him be as big as he will. _Cicero_ says, +_Concedat laurea lingae_; but both of them must give place to Cookery. I +never very well liked those _Stoicks_, who referring all things to their +(I can't tell what) _honestum_, thought we ought to have no regard to +our Persons and our Palates. _Aristippus_ was wiser than _Diogenes_ +beyond Expression in my Opinion. + +_Au._ I despise the _Stoicks_ with all their Fasts. But I praise and +approve _Epicurus_ more than that _Cynic Diogenes_, who lived upon raw +Herbs and Water; and therefore I don't wonder that _Alexander_, that +fortunate King, had rather be _Alexander_ than _Diogenes_. + +_Ch._ Nor indeed would I myself, who am but an ordinary Man, change my +Philosophy for _Diogenes_'s; and I believe your _Catius_ would refuse +to do it too. The Philosophers of our Time are wiser, who are content to +dispute like _Stoicks_, but in living out-do even _Epicurus_ himself. +And yet for all that, I look upon Philosophy to be one of the most +excellent Things in Nature, if used moderately. I don't approve of +philosophising too much, for it is a very jejune, barren, and melancholy +Thing. When I fall into any Calamity or Sickness, then I betake myself +to Philosophy, as to a Physician; but when I am well again, I bid it +farewell. + +_Au._ I like your Method. You do philosophize very well. Your humble +Servant, Mr. Philosopher; not of the _Stoick_ School, but the Kitchen. + +_Ch._ What is the Matter with you, _Erasmus_, that you are so +melancholy? What makes you look so frowningly? What makes you so silent? +Are you angry with me because I have entertained you with such a slender +Supper? + +_Er._ Nay, I am angry with you that you have put your self to so much +Charge upon my Account. _Austin_ laid a strict Charge upon you that you +would provide nothing extraordinary upon his Account. I believe you have +a Mind we should never come to see you again; for they give such a +Supper as this that intended to make but one. What sort of Guests did +you expect? You seem to have provided not for Friends, but for Princes. +Do you think we are Gluttons? This is not to entertain one with a +Supper, but victualling one for three Days together. + +_Ch._ You will be ill-humour'd. Dispute about that Matter to-Morrow; +pray be good humour'd to-Day. We'll talk about the Charge to-Morrow; I +have no Mind to hear any Thing but what is merry at this time. + +_Au. Christian_, whether had you rather have, Beef or Mutton? + +_Ch._ I like Beef best, but I think Mutton is the most wholsome. It is +the Disposition of Mankind to be most desirous of those Things that are +the most hurtful. + +_Au._ The _French_ are wonderful Admirers of Pork. + +_Ch._ The _French_ love that most that costs least. + +_Au._ I am a Jew in this one Thing, there is nothing I hate so much as +Swine's Flesh. + +_Ch._ Nor without Reason, for what is more unwholsome? In this I am not +of the _French_ Man's but of the _Jew's_ Mind. + +_Er._ But I love both Mutton and Pork, but for a different Reason; for I +eat freely of Mutton, because I love it; but Hogs Flesh I don't touch, +by Reason of Love, that I may not give Offence. + +_Ch._ You are a clever Man, _Erasmus_, and a very merry one too. Indeed +I am apt to admire from whence it comes to pass that there is such a +great Diversity in Mens Palates, for if I may make use of this Verse of +_Horace_, + + Tres mihi convivae prope dissentire videntur, + Poscentes vario multum diversa palato. + +_Er._ Although as the Comedian says, _So many Men, so many Minds_, and +every Man has his own Way; yet no Body can make me believe, there is +more Variety in Mens Dispositions, than there is in their Palates: So +that you can scarce find two that love the same Things. I have seen a +great many, that can't bear so much as the Smell of Butter and Cheese: +Some loath Flesh; one will not eat roast Meat, and another won't eat +boil'd. There are many that prefer Water before Wine. And more than +this, which you'll hardly believe; I have seen a Man who would neither +eat Bread, nor drink Wine. + +_Ch._ What did that poor Man live on? + +_Er._ There was nothing else but what he could eat; Meat, Fish, Herbs +and Fruit. + +_Ch._ Would you have me believe you? + +_Er._ Yes, if you will. + +_Ch._ I will believe you; but upon this Condition, that you shall +believe me when I tell a Lye. + +_Er._ Well, I will do it, so that you lye modestly. + +_Ch._ As if any Thing could be more impudent than your Lye. + +_Er._ What would your Confidence say, if I should shew you the Man? + +_Ch._ He must needs be a starveling Fellow, a meer Shadow. + +_Er._ You'd say he was a Champion. + +_Ch._ Nay, rather a _Polyphemus_. + +_Er._ I wonder this should seem so strange to you, when there are a +great many that eat dry'd Fish instead of Bread: And some that the Roots +of Herbs serve for the same Use that Bread does us. + +_Ch._ I believe you; lye on. + +_Er._ I remember, I saw a Man when I was in _Italy_, that grew fat with +Sleep, without the Assistance either of Meat or Drink. + +_Ch._ Fie for Shame; I can't forbear making Use of that Expression of +the Satyrist, + + Tunc immensa cavi spirant mendacia folles. + +Thou poeticisest. You play the Part of a Poet. I am loath to give you +the Lye. + +_Er._ I am the greatest Lyar in the World, if _Pliny_, an Author of +undoubted Credit, has not written, that a Bear in fourteen Days Time +will grow wonderfully fat with nothing but Sleep: And that he will sleep +so sound, that you can scarce wake him, by wounding him: Nay, to make +you admire the more, I will add what _Theophrastus_ writes, that during +that Time, if the Flesh of the Bear be boil'd, and kept some Time, it +will come to Life again. + +_Ch._ I am afraid that _Parmeno_ in _Terence_ will hardly be able to +comprehend these Things. I believe it readily. I would help you to some +Venison, if I were well enough accomplished. + +_Er._ Where have you any Hunting now? How came you by Venison? + +_Ch._ _Midas_, the most generous spirited Man living, and a very good +Friend of mine, sent it me for a Present; but so, that I oftentimes buy +it for less. + +_Er._ How so? + +_Ch._ Because I am obliged to give more to his Servants, than I could +buy it for in the Market. + +_Er._ Who obliges you to that? + +_Ch._ The most violent Tyrant in the World. + +_Er._ Who is he? + +_Ch._ Custom. + +_Er._ Indeed, that Tyrant does frequently impose the most unjust Laws +upon Mankind. + +_Ch._ The same Tyrant hunted this Stag, but the Day before Yesterday. +What did you do, who used to be a very great Lover of that Sport? + +_Au._ Indeed I have left off that Sport, and now I hunt after nothing +but Learning. + +_Ch._ In my Opinion, Learning is fleeter than any Stag. + +_Au._ But I hunt chiefly with two Dogs, that is to say, with Love and +Industry: For Love affords a great Deal of Eagerness to learn, and as +the most elegant Poet says, + + ----_Labor improbus omnia vincit._ + +_Ch. Austin_, you admonish after a friendly Manner, as you use to do; +and therefore, I won't give over, nor rest, nor tire, till I attain. + +_Au._ Venison is now in the Prime. _Pliny_ tells us a very admirable +Story concerning this Animal. + +_Ch._ What is it, I pray you? + +_Au._ That as often as they prick up their Ears, they are very quick of +Hearing; but on the contrary, when they let them down, they are deaf. + +_Ch._ That very often happens to myself; for if I happen to hear a Word +spoken of receiving Guineas, there is no Body quicker of Hearing than I; +for then with _Pamphilus_ in _Terence_, I prick up my Ears; but when +there is any Mention made of paying them away, I let them down, and am +presently hard of Hearing. + +_Au._ Well, I commend you; you do as you should do. + +_Ch._ Would you have some of the Leg of this Hare? + +_Au._ Take it yourself. + +_Ch._ Or had you rather have some of the Back? + +_Au._ This Creature has nothing good but its Flank and hind Legs. + +_Ch._ Did you ever see a white Hare? + +_Au._ Oftentimes. _Pliny_ writes, that on the _Alps_ there are white +Hares; and that it is believed in the Winter Time they feed upon Snow: +Whether it be true or no, let _Pliny_ see to that: For if Snow makes a +Hare's Skin white, it must make his Stomach white too. + +_Ch._ I don't know but it may be true. + +_Au._ I have something for you that is stranger than that; but it may be +you have heard of it. The same Man testifies that there is the same +Nature in all of them; that is, of Males and Females, and that the +Females do as commonly breed without the Use of the Male, as with it. +And many Persons assert the same, and especially your skilful Hunters. + +_Ch._ You say right; but if you please, let us try these Rabbets, for +they are fat and tender. I would help that pretty Lady if I sat nigher +to her. _Austin_, pray take Care of that Lady that sits by you, for you +know how to please the fair Sex. + +_Au._ I know what you mean, you Joker. + +_Ch._ Do you love Goose? + +_Au._ Ay, I love 'em mightily, and I an't very nice. I don't know what's +the Matter, but this Goose don't please me; I never saw any Thing dryer +in all my Life; it is dryer than a Pumice-Stone, or _Furius_'s Mother in +Law, upon whom _Catullus_ breaks so many Jests. I believe it is made of +Wood; And in Troth I believe 'tis an old Soldier, that has worn itself +out with being upon the Guard. They say a Goose is the most wakeful +Creature living. In Truth, if I am not out in my Guess, this Goose was +one of them, who when the Watch and their Dogs were fast asleep, in old +Time defended the _Roman_ Capitol. + +_Ch._ As I hope to live I believe it was, for I believe it liv'd in that +Age. + +_Au._ And this Hen was either half starv'd, or else was in love, or was +jealous; for this Sort of Creatures are much troubled with that +Distemper. This Capon fatten'd much better; see what Cares will do. If +we were to geld our _Theodoricus_, he would grow fat much the sooner. + +_Th._ I an't a Cock. + +_Au._ I confess you are not _Gallus Cybeles_, nor a Dunghil-Cock; but it +may be you are _Gallus Gallaceus_. + +_Ch._ What Word is that? + +_Au._ I leave that Word to be unriddled by you: I am _Sphinx_, and you +shall be _Oedipus_. + +_Ch. Austin_, tell me truly, have you had no Conversation with _French_ +Men, have you had no Affinity with them? Had you nothing to do with +them? + +_Au._ None at all, indeed. + +_Ch._ Then you are so much the worse. + +_Au._ But perhaps I have had to do with _French_ Women. + +_Ch._ Will you have any of this Goose's Liver? This was look'd upon as a +great Delicacy by the Ancients. + +_Au._ I will refuse nothing that comes from your Hand. + +_Ch._ You must not expect _Roman_ Dainties. + +_Au._ What are they? + +_Ch._ Thistles, Cockles, Tortoises, Conger-Eels, Mushrooms, Truffles, +etc. + +_Au._ I had rather have a Turnip than any of them. You are liberal and +bountiful, _Christian_. + +_Ch._ No Body touches these Partridges nor the Pigeons, to-Morrow is a +Fast-Day appointed by the Church; prepare against that Hunger; Ballast +your Ship against the impending Storm. War is a coming, furnish your +Belly with Provision. + +_Au._ I wish you had kept that Word in, we should have risen from Supper +more merrily. You torment us before the Time. + +_Ch._ Why so? + +_Au._ Because I hate Fish worse than I do a Snake. + +_Ch._ You are not alone. + +_Au._ Who brought in this troublesome Custom? + +_Ch._ Who order'd you to take Aloes, Wormwood and Scammony in Physick? + +_Au._ But these Things are given to Folks that are sick. + +_Ch._ So these Things are given to them that are too well. It is better +sometimes to be sick, than to be too well. + +_Au._ In my Opinion the _Jews_ themselves did not labour under such a +Burden. Indeed I could easily refrain from Eels and Swines Flesh, if I +might fill my Belly with Capons and Partridges. + +_Ch._ In a great many Circumstances it is not the Thing, but the Mind +that distinguishes us from _Jews_; they held their Hands from certain +Meats, as from unclean Things, that would pollute the Mind; but we, +understanding that _to the Pure, all Things are pure_, yet take away +Food from the wanton Flesh, as we do Hay from a pamper'd Horse, that it +may be more ready to hearken to the Spirit. We sometimes chastise the +immoderate Use of pleasant Things, by the Pain of Abstinence. + +_Au._ I hear you; but by the same Argument, Circumcision of the Flesh +may be defended; for that moderates the Itch of Coition, and brings +Pain. If all hated Fish as bad as I do, I would scarce put a Parricide +to so much Torture. + +_Ch._ Some Palates are better pleas'd with Fish than Flesh. + +_Au._ Then they like those Things that please their Gluttony, but don't +make for their Health. + +_Ch._ I have heard of some of the _AEsops_ and _Apitius_'s, that have +look'd upon Fish as the greatest Delicacy. + +_Au._ How then do Dainties agree with Punishment? + +_Ch._ Every Body han't Lampreys, Scares, and Sturgeons. + +_Au._ Then it is only the poor Folks that are tormented, with whom it is +bad enough, if they were permitted to eat Flesh; and it often happens, +that when they may eat Flesh for the Church, they can't for their Purse. + +_Ch._ Indeed, a very hard Injunction! + +_Au._ And if the Prohibition of Flesh be turned to delicious Living to +the Rich; and if the Poor can't eat Flesh many Times, when otherwise +they might, nor can't eat Fish, because they are commonly the dearer; to +whom does the Injunction do good? + +_Ch._ To all; for poor Folks may eat Cockles or Frogs, or may gnaw upon +Onions or Leeks. The middle Sort of People will make some Abatement in +their usual Provision; and though the Rich do make it an Occasion of +living deliciously, they ought to impute that to their Gluttony, and not +blame the Constitution of the Church. + +_Au._ You have said very well; but for all that, to require Abstinence +from Flesh of poor Folks, who feed their Families by the Sweat of their +Brows, and live a great Way from Rivers and Lakes, is the same Thing as +to command a Famine, or rather a _Bulimia_. And if we believe _Homer_, +it is the miserablest Death in the World to be starv'd to Death. + +_Ch._ So it seem'd to blind _Homer_; but with _Christians_, he is not +miserable that dies well. + +_Au._ Let that be so; yet it is a very hard Thing to require any Body to +die. + +_Ch._ The Popes don't prohibit the eating of Flesh with that Design, to +kill Men, but that they may be moderately afflicted if they have +transgress'd; or that taking away their pleasant Food, their Bodies may +be less fierce against the Spirit. + +_Au._ The moderate Use of Flesh would effect that. + +_Ch._ But in so great a Variety of Bodies certain Bounds of Flesh can't +be prescrib'd, a Kind of Food may. + +_Au._ There are Fishes that yield much Aliment, and there are Sorts of +Flesh that yield but little. + +_Ch._ But in general Flesh is most nourishing. + +_Au._ Pray tell me, if you were to go a Journey any whither, would you +chuse a lively Horse that was a little wanton, or a diseased Horse, who +would often stumble and throw his Rider? + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ Because Fish-eating, by its corrupt Humours, renders the Body +liable to a great many Diseases, that it can't subserve the Spirit as it +should do. + +_Ch._ To what Diseases? + +_Au._ Gouts, Fevers, Leprosies, the King's-Evil. + +_Ch._ How do you know? + +_Au._ I believe Physicians. I had rather do so than try the Experiment. + +_Ch._ Perhaps that happens to a few. + +_Au._ Indeed I believe to a great many; besides, in as much as the Mind +acts by the material Organs of the Body, which are affected with good or +bad Humours, the Instruments being vitiated, it can't exert its Power as +it would. + +_Ch._ I know Doctors do very much find Fault with the eating of Fish; +but our Ancestors thought otherwise, and it is our Duty to obey them. + +_Au._ It was a Piece of Religion formerly not to break the Sabbath; but +for all that, it was more eligible to save a Man on the Sabbath-Day. + +_Ch._ Every one consults his own Health. + +_Au._ If we will obey St. _Paul, Let no Body mind his own Things, but +every one the Things of another_. + +_Ch._ How come we by this new Divine at our Table? Whence comes this new +upstart Master of ours? + +_Au._ Because I don't like Fishes. + +_Ch._ What, then won't you abstain from Flesh? + +_Au._ I do abstain, but grumblingly, and to my great Detriment too. + +_Ch. Charity suffers all Things._ + +_Au._ It is true; but then the same requires but little. If it suffers +all Things, why won't it suffer us to eat those Meats the Gospel has +given us a Liberty to eat? Why do those Persons, from whom Christ has so +often required the Love of himself, suffer so many Bodies of Men to be +endanger'd by capital Diseases, and their Souls to be in Danger of +eternal Damnation, because of a Thing neither forbidden by _Christ_, nor +necessary in itself? + +_Ch._ When Necessity requires it, the Force of a human Constitution +ceases, and the Will of the Lawgiver ceases. + +_Au._ But the Offence of the Weak does not cease. The Scruple of a +tender Conscience does not cease. And lastly, it is uncertain with what +Limits that Necessity shall be bounded; shall it be when the Fish-eater +shall be a giving up the Ghost? It is too late to give Flesh to a Man +when he is dying; or shall it be when his Body becomes all feverish? +The Choice of Meats is not of so much Consequence. + +_Ch._ What would you have prescrib'd then? + +_Au._ I can tell well enough, if I might be allow'd to be a Dictator in +Ecclesiastical Affairs. + +_Ch._ What do you mean by that? + +_Au._ If I were Pope I would exhort all Persons to a perpetual Sobriety +of Life, but especially before an holy-Day; and moreover, I would give +every one leave to eat what he would, for the Health of his Body, so he +did it moderately, and with Thanksgiving; and I would endeavour that +what was abated of these Observations should be made up in the Study of +true Piety. + +_Ch._ That in my Opinion is of so great Weight, that we ought to make +you Pope. + +_Au._ For all your laughing, this Neck could bear a triple Crown. + +_Ch._ But in the mean Time take Care that these Things be not enter'd +down in the _Sorbon_ at _Paris_. + +_Au._ Nay, rather let what is said be written in Wine, as it is fit +those Things should that are said over our Cups; but we have had +Divinity enough for a Feast We are at Supper, not at the _Sorbon_. + +_Ch._ Why mayn't that be call'd _Sorbon_ where we sup plentifully? + +_Au._ Well, let us sup then, and not dispute, lest the _Sorbon_ be +called after us from _Sorbis_, and not from _Sorbendo_. + +_CHRISTIAN, GUESTS, MIDAS, ERASMUS, the BOY, AUSTIN._ + +_Ch._ Well, come my kind Guests, I pray you that you would take this +little Supper in good Part, though it be but a slender one. Be merry and +good humour'd, though the Supper be but mean and slender. I, relying +upon your Familiarity, made bold to invite you; and I will assure you, +your Company and Presence is not only very grateful to me, but very +pleasant. + +_Gu._ We do assure you, good _Christian_, that we esteem your Supper to +have been very pretty and noble; and we have nothing to find Fault with, +but that you make Excuses for it, for that it was very magnificent; for +indeed I look upon the Entertainment to be splendid to the greatest +degree, that in the first Place consisted of Courses agreeable to +Nature, and was season'd with Mirth, Laughter, Jokes and Witticisms, +none of which have been wanting in our Entertainment. But here is +something comes into my Mind, as to the Number of the Guests, which +_Varro_ writes, _should not be fewer than three, nor more than nine_. +For the _Graces_, who are the Presidents of Humanity and Benevolence, +are three; and the _Muses_, that are the Guides of commendable Studies, +are nine; and I see here we have ten Guests besides the Virgins. + +_Au._ Nothing could happen more agreeably; we are in that something +wiser than _Varro_, for we have gotten here three pretty Maids for the +three _Graces_; and as it is not to be thought that _Apollo_ is ever +absent from the Chorus of the _Muses_, we have very much _a propos_ +added the tenth Guest. + +_Ch._ You have spoken very much like a Poet. If I had a Laurel here I +would crown you with it, and you should be Poet Laureat. + +_Au._ If I were crown'd with Mallows, I should be Poet _Maleat_; I do +not arrogate that Honour to myself. This is an Honour that I don't +deserve. + + ------_Haud equidem tali me dignor honore._ + +_Ch._ Will you, every one of you, do as much for me as I will do for +you? + +_Gu._ Ay, that we will with all our Hearts. + +_Ch._ Then let every one drink off his Cup round as I do. Here's to you +first, _Midas_. + +_Mi._ I thank you heartily. I pledge you heartily; for which the Vulgar +says _Praestolor_. Indeed I won't refuse. I won't refuse any Thing for +your Sake. + +_Ch._ Now do you drink to the rest. + +_Mi. Erasmus_, Half this Cup to you. + +_Er._ I pray it may do you good. May it do you good. Much good may it do +you. _Proficiat_ is an out of the Way Word. + +_Ch._ Why does the Cup stand still? Why does it not go about? Is our +Wine gone? Where are your Eyes, you Rascal? Run quickly, fetch two +Quarts of the same Wine. + +_Boy. Erasmus_, your humble Servant, there is one wants to speak with +you at the Door. + +_Er._ Who is it? + +_Boy._ He says he is one Mr. _More_'s, Man, his Master is come out of +_Britain_, and he desires you would make him a Visit, because he sets +out for _Germany_ to-Morrow by Break of Day. + +_Er. Christian_, gather the Reckoning, for I must be going. + +_Ch._ The Reckoning, most learned _Erasmus_, of this Supper, I will +discharge that. You have no Need to put your Hand in your Pocket. I +thank you that you honour'd me with your Company; but I am sorry you are +called away before the Comedy is ended. + +_Er._ Have I any Thing more to do but to bid you _Farewell and be +merry?_ + +_Ch._ Farewell, we can't take it amiss, because you don't leave a +Shoulder of Mutton for a Sheep's-Head, but go from Friends to a better +Friend. + +_Er._ And I in like Manner return you my Thanks, that you have been so +kind as to invite me to this most pleasant Entertainment. My very good +Friends, fare ye well. Drink heartily, and live merrily. + +_Ch._ Soho, _Dromo_. You, all of you, have sitten still a good While. +Does any Body please to have any Thing else? + +_Gu._ Nothing at all. We have eat very plentifully. + +_Ch._ Then take away these Things, and set on the Desert. Change the +Trenchers and the Plates. Take up my Knife that is fallen down. Pour +some Wine over the Pears. Here are some early ripe Mulberries that grew +in my own Garden. + +_Gu._ They will be the better for being of your own Growth. + +_Ch._ Here are some wheaten Plumbs: See, here are Damascens, a rare +Sight with us: See, here are mellow Apples; and here is a new Sort of an +Apple, the Stock of which I set with my own Hands; and Chestnuts, and +all Kinds of Delicacies, which our Gardens produce plentifully. + +_Au._ But here are no Flowers. + +_Ch._ They are _French_ Entertainments, who love that Sort of Splendor +most that costs least; but that is not my Humour. + +_Au._ 'Tis not only among _Frenchmen_ that you will find those that love +what is of little Cost. + +_Ch._ But hark you, _Austin_, do you think to come off so? What, won't +you pledge me when I drink to you? You ought to have taken off Half the +Cup of him that drank to you. + +_Au._ He excused me for that a great While ago. He discharg'd me of that +Obligation. + +_Ch._ Pray who gave him that Power? The Pope himself can hardly dispense +with this Obligation. You know the ancient Law of Drinking, _Either +drink or go your Way_. + +_Au._ He that an Oath is made to has Power to suspend it, and especially +he, whose Concern it was to have it kept. + +_Ch._ But it is the Duty of all Guests to observe Laws inviolably. + +_Au._ Well, come on, since this is the _German_ Custom, I'll drink what +is left. But what Business have you with me? + +_Ch._ You must pay for all. Why do you look pale? Don't be afraid, you +may do it very easily, do as you have often done, that by some Elegancy +we may rise from Table more learned; nor are you ignorant that the +Ancients over the second Course used to dispute of some more diverting +Subjects. Come on then, by what, and after how many Ways may this +Sentence be vary'd, _Indignum auditu?_ + + + * * * * * + +_It is not worth hearing. The Form._ + +_Au._ You have very fitly made Use of the latter Supine. It is not worth +hearing. It is unworthy to be heard. It is not worthy to be heard. It is +so light it ought not to be heard. It is scarce worth While to relate. +It is not of such Value as to be heard. It is too silly to be heard. It +is not worth While to tell it. + +_Ch._ How many Ways may this Sentence be turn'd, _Magno mihi constat?_ + + * * * * * + +_The Ratio of varying this Sentence._ + +_Magno mihi constat._ + +_Au._ By these Words, _impendo, insumo, impertio, constat_, as: I have +taken Pains much in teaching you. I have taken much Pains in that +Matter. I have not spent less Money than I have Care upon that Matter. I +have not spent a little Money, but much Time, and very much Labour, and +some Study. I have spent much Study. This Thing has cost me many a +Night's Sleep, much Sweat, much Endeavour, very much Labour, a great +Expence, a great Deal of Money. It has cost me more than you believe. My +Wife stands me in less than my Horse. + +_Ch._ But what is the meaning, _Austin_, that you put sometimes an +Ablative, and sometimes a Genitive Case to the Verb _constat_? + +_Au._ You have stated a very useful and very copious Question. But that +I may not be troublesome to the Company by my too much Talk, I will +dispatch it in a few Words. But I desire to hear every Man's Opinion, +that I may not be troublesome to any Man, as I have said. + +_Ch._ But why may not the Damsels desire the same? + +_Au._ Indeed they do nothing else but hear. I'll attempt it with +_Grammatica_'s Assistance. "You know that Verbs of buying and selling, +and some others, are of a like Signification, to which these Genitives +are put alone, without Substantives, _tanti, quanti, pluris, minoris, +tantidem, quantivis, quanticunque_: But in Case Substantives be not +added, which, if they happen to be put, they are both turned into the +Ablative Case; so that if a certain Price be set down, you put it in the +Ablative Case; if by an Adjective put substantively, you put it in the +Ablative Case, unless you had rather make Use of an Adverb." + +_Ch._ What are those Verbs that you speak of? + +_Au._ "They are commonly _emo, mereor; redimo_, (that is a Thing either +taken or lost) _vendo, venundo; revendo_, (that is, I sell again that +which was sold to me) _veneo_, (that is, I am sold) whose Prater Tense +is _venivi_, or _venii_, the Supine _venum_; hence comes _venalis_; and +from that, _i.e._ _vendo_, comes _vendibilis; mereo_, for _inservio et +stipendium_ _facio_, _i.e._ to serve under (as a Soldier). _Comparo_, +that is, to buy, or commit. _Computo_, I change, I exchange with. +_Cambire_ is wholly barbarous in this Sense. _AEstimo_, to tax. _Indico_, +for I estimate, rate. _Liceor, liceris; licitor, licitaris_, to cheapen, +to bid. _Distrahor_, _i.e._ I am carried about to be sold. _Metior_, for +I estimate or rate. _Constat_, for it is bought. _Conducere_, to let to +hire. _Faenero_, I put to Interest. _Faeneror_, I take at Interest (to +Usury.) _Paciscor, pactus sum pango, pepigi_, _i.e._ I make a Bargain." + +_Ch._ Give an Example. + + * * * * * + +_Of selling and buying._ + +_The Forms._ + +_Au._ How much do you lett that Field for by the Year. We will answer. +For twenty _French_ Pounds. Whoo! You lett it too dear. Nay, I have lett +it for more before now. But I would not give so much for it. If you hire +it for less I'll be hang'd. Nay, your Neighbour _Chremes_ offer'd me a +Field, and asks for it--How much? Just as much as you ask for yours. +But it is much better. That's a Lye. I do as they use to do who cheapen +a Thing. Do you keep it yourself at that Price. What, do you cheapen, +ask the Price, when you won't buy any Thing. Whatsoever you shall lett +it me for shall be paid you very honestly. + +_Of Selling and Buying._ + +_Another Example._ + +How much do you sell that Conger Eel for? + +_Syra._ For five Pence. That's too much, you nasty Jade. Nay, 'tis too +little, no Body will sell you for less. Upon my Life it cost me as much +within a Trifle. You Witch, you tell a Lie, that you may sell it for +twice or three Times as much as it cost you. Ay, I'll sell it for a +hundred Times as much if I can, but I can't find such Fools. What if I +should ask the Price of yourself? What do you value yourself at? +According as I like the Person. What do you prize yourself at? What +Price do you set upon yourself? Tell me, what Price do you rate yourself +at? Ten Shillings. Whoo, so much? O strange! Do you value me at less? +Time was when I have had as much for one Night. I believe you may, but I +believe you an't now worth so much as a Fish by a great Deal. Go hang +yourself, you Pimp. I value you as little as you do me. He that shall +give a Farthing for you buys you too dear. But I'll be sold for more, or +I won't be sold at all. If you would be sold at a great Rate you must +get you a Mask, for those Wrinkles in your Forehead won't let you be +sold for much. He that won't give so much for me shan't have me. I would +not give a Straw for you. I cost more. + +_A third Example._ + +I have been at an Auction to-Day. Say you so? I bid Money for a Share in +the Customs. But how much? Ten Thousand Pound. Whoo! what, so much? +There were those that bid a great Deal more; very few that offer'd less. +Well, and who had the Place at last? _Chremes_, your Wife's great +Friend. But guess what it was sold for. Ten. Nay, fifteen. O good God! I +would not give Half so much for him and all his Family together. But he +would give twice as much for your Wife. "Do you take Notice, that in all +these, wheresoever there is a Substantive of the Price, that is put in +the Ablative Case; but that the rest are either put in the Genitive +Case, or are changed into Adverbs. You have never heard a Comparative +without a Substantive, except in these two, _pluris_, and _minoris_. +There are some other Verbs, of which we have spoken, that are not very +much unlike these, _sum, facio, habeo, duco, aestimo, pendo_, which +signify (in a Manner) the same Thing; likewise _fio_, and they are for +the most Part join'd with these Genitives, _multi, parvi, magni, pluris, +plurimi, minoris, minimi, maximi, tanti, quanti, flocci, pili, nihili, +nauci, hujus_, and any other like them." _Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Of valuing. The Form._ + +_Au._ Do you know how much I have always valu'd you? You will always be +made of such Account by Men as you make Account of Virtue. Gold is +valued at a great Rate now a-Days, Learning is valued at a very little, +or just nothing at all. I value Gold less than you think for. I don't +value your Threats of a Rush. I make a very little Account of your +Promises. I don't value you of a Hair. If Wisdom were but valued at so +great a Rate as Money, no Body would want Gold. With us, Gold without +Wisdom is esteem'd to be of more Worth than Wisdom without Gold. I +esteem you at a greater Rate, because you are learned. You will be the +less esteem'd on here because you don't know how to lye. Here are a +great many that will persuade you that Black is White. I set the +greater Value upon you because you love Learning. So much as you have, +so much you shall be esteem'd by all Men; so much as you have, so much +you shall be accounted of every where. It is no Matter what you are +accounted, but what you are. I value my _Christian_ above any Man else +in the World. "There are some other Verbs found with these Genitives and +Ablatives, which in their own Nature don't signify buying, or anything +like it." _Peter_ bought a Kiss of the Maid for a Shilling. Much good +may it do him. I would not kiss at that Rate. How much do you play for? +What did you pay for Supper? We read of some that have spent Six hundred +Sesterces for a Supper. But the _French_ often sup for a Half-penny. +What Price does _Faustus_ teach for? A very small Matter. But for more +than _Delius_. For how much then? For nineteen Guineas. I won't learn to +lye at so dear a Rate. _Phaedria_ in _Terence_ lost both his Substance +and himself. But I would not love at that Rate. Some Persons pay a great +Price for sleeping. _Demosthenes_ had more for holding his Tongue than +others had for speaking. I pray you to take it in good Part. "There is +another Sort of Verbs, that require an Accusative Case, with a Genitive +or Ablative, which are, _accuso_, _i.e._ I object a Crime, or _culpo_, +also one that's absent; _Incuso_, _i.e._ I blame without Judgment; +_arguo_, I reprehend, _insimulo_, _i.e._ I throw in a Suspicion of a +Fault. _Postulo_, _i.e._ I require you to answer at Law, _accerso_, I +impeach, _damno_, I condemn, I pronounce him to be in Fault. _Admoneo_, +I admonish." + +_Ch._ For Example Sake? + +_Forms of Accusing._ + +_Au. Scipio_ is accused of courting the Populace. Thou who art the most +impudent, accusest me of Impudence. _Lepidus_ is accused of Bribery. You +are accus'd of a capital Crime. If you shall slily insinuate a Man to +be guilty of Covetousness, you shall hear that which is worse again. Put +him in Mind of his former Fortune. Men are put in Mind of their +Condition, by that very Word. Put _Lepidus_ in Mind of his Promise. +"There are many that admit of a double Accusative Case. I teach thee +Letters. He entreats you to pardon him. I will unteach thee those +Manners." + +"Here I must put you in Mind of that Matter, that in these the Passives +also obtain a second Accusative Case. The others will have a Genitive." +You are taught Letters by me. They accuse me of Theft. I am accused of +Theft. Thou accusest me of Sacrilege. I am accused of Sacrilege. I know +you are not satisfied yet. I know you are not satisfied in Mind. For +when will so great a Glutton of Elegancies be satisfy'd? But I must have +Regard to the Company, who are not all equally diverted with these +Matters. After Supper, as we walk, we will finish what is behind, unless +you shall rather chuse to have it omitted. + +_Ch._ Let it be as you say. Let us return Thanks to divine Bounty and +afterwards we'll take a little Walk. + +_Mi._ You say very well, for nothing can be more pleasant, nor wholsome +than this Evening Air. + +_Ch. Peter_, come hither, and take the Things away in Order, one after +the other, and fill the Glasses with Wine. + +_Pe._ Do you bid me return Thanks? + +_Ch._ Aye, do. + +_Pe._ Had you rather it should be done in _Greek_, or in _Latin_. + +_Ch._ Both Ways. + +_Pe. Gratias agimus tibi, pater coelestis, qui tua ineffabili potentia +condidisti omnia, tua inscrutabili sapientia gubernas universa, tua +inexhausta bonitate cuncta pascis ac vegetas: largire filiis tuis, ut +aliquando tecum bibant in regno tuo nectar illud immortalitatis, quod +promisisti ac praeparasti vere diligentibus te, per Iesum Christum. +Amen._ + +We thank thee, heavenly Father, who by thy unspeakable Power, hast +created all Things, and by thy inexhaustible Wisdom governest all +Things, and by thy inexhaustible Goodness feedest and nourishest all +Things: Grant to thy Children, that they may in due Time drink with thee +in thy Kingdom, that _Nectar_ of Immortality; which thou hast promis'd +and prepar'd for those that truly love thee, through Jesus Christ, +_Amen_. + +_Ch._ Say in _Greek_ too, that the rest mayn't understand what thou +sayest. + +_Pe._ [Greek: Heucharistoumen soi, pater ouranie, ho te arreto sou +dunamei ktisas ta panta, ho te anexereuneto sou sophia kubernon +hapaxapanta, ho te anexantleto sou chrestoteti hekasta trephomenos te +kai auxanon. Charizou tois yiois sou to meta sou pote piein to tes +athanasias nektar, ho upechou kai etoimasas tois alethos agaposi se, dia +Iesou Christou, tou yiou sou, tou kyriou hemon, tou meta sou zontos kai +basileuontos en henoteti tou pneumatos hagiou, eis tous aionas. Amen.] + +_Ch._ My most welcome Guests, I give you Thanks that you have honour'd +my little Entertainment with your Company. I intreat you to accept it +kindly. + +_Gu._ And we would not only have, but return our Thanks to you. Don't +let us be over ceremonious in thanking, but rather let us rise from +Table, and walk out a little. + +_Au._ Let us take these Virgins along with us, so our Walk will be more +pleasant. + +_Ch._ You propose very well. We'll not want Flowers, if the Place we +walk in don't afford any. Had you rather take a Turn in our Garden, in a +poetical Manner, or walk out abroad by the River-Side. + +_Au._ Indeed, your Gardens are very pleasant, but keep that Pleasure for +Morning Walks. When the Sun is towards setting, Rivers afford wonderful +pleasant Prospects. + +_Ch. Austin_, do you walk foremost as a Poet should do, and I'll walk by +your Side. + +_Au._ O good God, what a jolly Company we have, what a Retinue have I! +_Christian_, I can't utter the Pleasure I take, I seem to be some +Nobleman. + +_Ch._ Now be as good as your Word. Perform the Task you have taken upon +you. + +_Au._ What is it you'd have me speak of chiefly? + +_Ch._ I us'd formerly to admire many Things in _Pollio_'s Orations; but +chiefly this, that he us'd so easily, so frequently and beautifully to +turn a Sentence, which seemed not only a great Piece of Wit, but of +great Use. + +_Au._ You were much in the Right on't, _Christian_, to admire that in +_Pollio_. For he seems, in this Matter, to have had a certain divine +Faculty, which I believe, was peculiar to him, by a certain Dexterity of +Art, and by much Use of Speaking, Reading and Writing, rather than by +any Rules or Instructions. + +_Ch._ But I would fain have some Rule for it, if there be any to be +given. + +_Au._ You say very well; and since I see you are very desirous of it, +I'll endeavour it as much as I can: And I will give those Rules, as well +as I can, which I have taken Notice of in _Pollio_'s Orations. + +_Ch._ Do, I should be very glad to hear 'em. + +_Au._ I am ready to do it. + + + * * * * * + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A short Rule concerning this Copia, it teaches how to + vary a Sentence pleasantly, copiously, easily, + frequently, and elegantly; by short Rules given, and by a + Praxis upon these Rules, in an elegant Turning of one + Phrase._ + + +In the first Place, it is to be set forth in pure and choice _Latin_ +Words; which to do is no mean Piece of Art: For there are a great many, +who do, I don't know after what Manner, affect the _Copia_ and Variation +of Phrase, when they don't know how to express it once right. It is not +enough for them to have babbled once, but they must render the Babble +much more babbling, by first one, and then by another turning of it; as +if they were resolv'd to try the Experiment, how barbarously they were +able to speak: And therefore, they heap together, certain simple +synonymous Words, that are so contrary one to the other, that they may +admire themselves how they do agree together. For what is more absurd, +than that a ragged old Fellow, that has not a Coat to his Back, but what +is so ragged that he may be ashamed to put it on, should every now and +then change his Rags, as though he design'd to shew his Beggary by Way +of Ostentation: And those Affectators of Variety seem equally +ridiculous, who, when they have spoken barbarously once, repeat the same +Thing much more barbarously; and then over and over again much more +unlearnedly. This is not to abound with Sentences, but Solaecisms: +Therefore, in the first Place, as I have said, the Thing is to be +express'd in apt and chosen Words. 2. And then we must use Variety of +Words, if there are any to be found, that will express the same Thing; +and there are a great many. 3. And where proper Words are wanting, then +we must use borrow'd Words, so the Way of borrowing them be modest. 4. +Where there is a Scarcity of Words, you must have Recourse to Passives, +to express what you have said by Actives; which will afford as many Ways +of Variation, as there were in the Actives. 5. And after that, if you +please, you may turn them again by verbal Nouns and Participles. 6. And +last of all, when we have chang'd Adverbs into Nouns, and Nouns +sometimes into one Part of Speech, and sometimes into another; then we +may speak by contraries. 7. We may either change affirmative Sentences +into negative, or the contrary. 8. Or, at least, what we have spoken +indicatively, we may speak interrogatively. Now for Example Sake, let us +take this Sentence. + + _Literae tuae magnopere me delectarunt. + + Your Letters have delighted me very much._ + +_Litertae._ + +Epistle, little Epistles, Writings, Sheets, Letters. + +_Magnopere._ + +After a wonderful Manner, wonderfully, in a greater, or great Manner, in +a wonderful Manner, above Measure, very much, not indifferently (not a +little) mightily, highly, very greatly. + +_Me._ + +My Mind, my Breast, my Eyes, my Heart, _Christian_. + +_Delectarunt._ + +They have affected, recreated, exhilarated with Pleasure, have been a +Pleasure, have delighted, have bath'd me with Pleasure; have been very +sweet, very pleasant, &c. + +Now you have Matter, it is your Business to put it together: Let us try. + +_Ch._ Thy Letters have very greatly delighted me. Thy Epistle has +wonderfully chear'd me. + +_Au._ Turn the Active into a Passive, then it will look with another +Face. As, It can't be said how much I have been chear'd by thy Writings. + +_Also by other Verbs effecting the same Thing._ + +I have received an incredible Pleasure from thy Writings. I have +receiv'd very much Pleasure from your Highness's Letter. Your Writings +have brought me not an indifferent Joy. Your Writings have overwhelmed +me all over with Joy. "But here you can't turn these into Passives, only +in the last, _perfusus gaudio_, as is commonly said, Pleasure was taken +by me, Joy was brought, is not so commonly used, or you must not use so +frequently." + +_By Affido._ + +Thy Letter hath affected me with a singular Pleasure. + +_Change it into a Passive._ + +I am affected with an incredible Pleasure by thy Letter. Thy little +Epistle has brought not a little Joy. + +_By_ Sum _and Nouns Adjectives._ + +Thy Letters have been most pleasant to me many Ways. That Epistle of +thine was, indeed, as acceptable, as any Thing in the World. + +_By Nouns Substantives._ + +Thy Letter was to us an unspeakable Pleasure. Your Letter was an +incredible Pleasure to us. + +_Change it into a Negative._ + +Thy Letter was no small Joy. Nothing in Life could happen more +delightful than thy Letters. "Although I have sometimes already made Use +of this Way, which is not to be pass'd over negligently. For when we +would use _multum, plurimum_, to signify, _singulariter_, we do it by a +contrary Verb." As, _Henry_ loves you mightily: He loves you with no +common Love. Wine pleases me very much: It pleases me not a little. He +is a Man of a singular Wit: A Man of no ordinary Wit. He is a Man of +admirable Learning: He is a Man not of contemptible Learning. _Thomas_ +was born in the highest Place of his Family: Not in the lowest Place. +_Austin_ was a most eloquent Man: He was not ineloquent. _Carneades_ the +Orator was noble: Not an ignoble, not an obscure Man. "And the like, +which are very frequently used." But the Mention of a Thing so plain is +enough: Nor are you ignorant, that we make Use of a two-fold Manner of +Speech, of this Kind: For Modesty Sake, especially, if we speak of our +selves; also for Amplification Sake. For we use rightly and elegantly, +not ungrateful, for very grateful; not vulgarly for singularly. + +_For Modesty Sake._ + +I have by my Letters gain'd some Reputation of Learning. I have always +made it my Business not to have the last Place in the Glory of Learning. +The Examples of Amplification are mention'd before: Now let us return to +our own. Nothing ever fell out to me more gratefully, acceptably, than +thy Letter. Nothing ever was a greater Pleasure than your Letter. I +never took so much Pleasure in any Thing, as in thy most loving Letters. +"After this Manner all the before-mention'd Sentences may be vary'd by +an Interrogation." What in Life could be more pleasant than thy Letters? +What has happened to me more sweet, than thy Letter? What has ever +delighted me like your last Letter? And after this Manner you may vary +almost any Sentence. + +_Ch._ What shall we do now? + +_Au._ We will now turn the whole Sentence a little more at large, that +we may express one Sentence, by a Circumlocution of many Words. + +_Ch._ Give Examples. + +_Au._ "That which was sometimes express'd by the Noun _incredibile_, and +then again, by the Adverb _incredibiliter_, we will change the Sentence +in some Words." I can't express how much I was delighted with your +Letters. It is very hard for me to write, and you to believe how much +Pleasure your Letter was to me. I am wholly unable to express how I +rejoic'd at your Letter. "And so _in infinitum_: Again, after another +Manner. For hitherto we have varied the Sentences by Negations and +Interrogations, and in the last Place by Infinitives. Now we will vary +by Substantives or Conditionals, after this Manner." Let me die if any +Thing ever was more desired and more pleasant than thy Letters. Let me +perish if any Thing ever was more desired, and more pleasant than thy +Letter. As God shall judge me, nothing in my whole Life ever happen'd +more pleasant than thy Letters. "And also a great many more you may +contrive after this Manner." + +_Ch._ What is to be done now? + +_Au._ Now we must proceed to Translations, Similitudes and Examples. + +_There is a Translation in these._ + +I have received your Letters, which were sweet as Honey. Your Writings +seem to be nothing but meer Delight. Your Letters are a meer Pleasure; +and a great many of the like Kinds. "But Care is to be taken not to make +Use of harder Translations; such as this that follows, + + _Jupiter hybernas cana nive conspuit Alpes._ + +such as this is." The Suppers of thy Writings have refreshed me with +most delicious Banquets. + +_A Comparison by Simile._ + +Thy Writings have been sweeter than either _Ambrosia_ or _Nectar_. Thy +Letters have been sweeter to me than any Honey. Your kind Letter has +excell'd even Liquorish, Locusts, and _Attic_ Honey, and Sugar; nay, +even the _Nectar_ and _Ambrosia_ of the Gods. "And here, whatsoever is +ennobled with Sweetness, may be brought into the Comparison." + +_From Examples._ + +I will never be induc'd to believe, that _Hero_ receiv'd the Letters of +her _Leander_, either with greater Pleasure, or more Kisses, than I +received yours. I can scarce believe that _Scipio_, for the Overthrow of +_Carthage_, or _Paulus AEmylius_, for the taking of _Perseus_, ever +triumphed more magnificently than I did, when the Post-man gave me your +most charming Letter. "There are a thousand Things of this Nature, that +may be found in Poets and Historians. Likewise Similitudes are borrow'd +from Natural Philosophy; the Nature of a great many of which, it is +necessary to keep in Memory. Now if you please, we will try in another +Sentence." + +_I will never forget you while I live._ + +I will always remember you, as long as I live. Forgetfulness of you, +shall never seize me as long as I live. I will leave off to live, before +I will to remember you. + +_By Comparisons._ + +If the Body can get rid of its Shadow, then this Mind of mine may forget +you. The River _Lethe_ itself shall never be able to wash away your +Memory. + +"Besides, by an Impossibility, or after the Manner of Poets by +contraries. + + _Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit. + Ante leves ergo pastentur in athere cervi._ + +which is no hard Matter to invent." But lest I should seem tedious, at +the present let these suffice: At another Time, if you please, we will +talk more copiously of this Matter. + +_Ch._ I thought, _Austin_, you had been quite exhausted by this Time. +But thou hast shewn me a new Treasure beyond what I expected, which if +you shall pursue, I perceive you'll sooner want Time than Words. + +_Au._ If I can perform this with my little Learning, and indifferent +Genius, what do you think _Cicero_ himself could do, who is storied to +have vy'd with _Roscius_ the Player? But the Sun is going to leave us; +and the Dew rises; it is best to imitate the Birds, to go Home, and hide +ourselves in Bed. Therefore, sweet _Christian_, farewell till to Morrow. + +_Ch._ Fare you well likewise, most learned _Austin._ + + + + +_The RELIGIOUS TREAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This religious Treat teaches what ought to be the + Table-Talk of Christians. The Nature of Things is not + dumb, but very loquacious, affording Matter of + Contemplation. The Description of a neat Garden, where + there is a Variety of Discourse concerning Herbs. Of + Marjoram, Celandine, Wolfs-Bane, Hellebore. Of Beasts, + Scorpions, the Chamaeleon, the Basilisk; of Sows_, Indian + _Ants, Dolphins, and of the Gardens of_ Alcinous. _Tables + were esteemed sacred by the very Heathens themselves. Of + washing Hands before Meat. A Grace before Meat out of_ + Chrysostom. _Age is to be honoured, and for what Reason. + The Reading of the Scriptures very useful at Meals. That + Lay Persons may Discourse concerning the Scriptures. The + 21st of_ Prov. _and 1st_ Ver. _illustrated. How God hates + Sacrifices, in Comparison of Mercy_, Hos. 6. _No Body is + hurt but by himself. That Persons in Wine speak true. + That it was unlawful for the_ AEgyptian _Priests to drink + Wine. The_ I Cor. 6. _opened. All Things are lawful for + me. The Spirit of Christ was in the Heathens and Poets._ + Scotus _is slighted in Comparison of_ Cicero _and_ + Plutarch. _A Place is cited out of_ Cicero _and_ Cato + Major, _and commended;_ dare omni petenti, give to every + one that asketh, _how it is to be understood. We ought + to give to Christ's Poor, and not to Monasteries. The + Custom of burying in Churches blam'd. That we ought to + give by Choice, how much, to whom, and to what End. We + ought to deny ourselves of something that we may give it + to the Poor_. No Body can serve two Masters, _is + explained. A Grace after Meat out of St._ Chrysostom. + + +EUSEBIUS, TIMOTHY, THEOPHILUS, CHRYSOGLOTTUS, URANIUS, SOPHRONIUS, +EULALIUS, THEODIDACTUS, NEPHALIUS. + +_Eu._ I admire that any Body can delight to live in smoaky Cities, when +every Thing is so fresh and pleasant in the Country. + +_Ti._ All are not pleased with the Sight of Flowers, springing Meadows, +Fountains, or Rivers: Or, if they do take a Pleasure in 'em, there is +something else, in which they take more. For 'tis with Pleasure, as it +is with Wedges, one drives out another. + +_Eu._ You speak perhaps of Usurers, or covetous Traders; which, indeed, +are all one. + +_Ti._ I do speak of them; but not of them only, I assure you; but of a +thousand other Sorts of People, even to the very Priests and Monks, who +for the Sake of Gain, make Choice of the most populous Cities for their +Habitation, not following the Opinion of _Plato_ or _Pythagoras_ in this +Practice; but rather that of a certain blind Beggar, who loved to be +where he was crowded; because, as he said, the more People, the more +Profit. + +_Eu._ Prithee let's leave the blind Beggar and his Gain: We are +Philosophers. + +_Ti._ So was _Socrates_ a Philosopher, and yet he preferr'd a Town Life +before a Country one; because, he being desirous of Knowledge, had there +the Opportunity of improving it. In the Country, 'tis true, there are +Woods, Gardens, Fountains and Brooks, that entertain the Sight, but +they are all mute, and therefore teach a Man nothing. + +_Eu._ I know _Socrates_ puts the Case of a Man's walking alone in the +Fields; although, in my Opinion, there Nature is not dumb, but talkative +enough, and speaks to the Instruction of a Man that has but a good Will, +and a Capacity to learn. What does the beautiful Face of the Spring do, +but proclaim the equal Wisdom and Goodness of the Creator? And how many +excellent Things did _Socrates_ in his Retirement, both teach his +_Phaedrus_, and learn from him? + +_Ti._ If a Man could have such pleasant Company, I confess, no life in +the World could be pleasanter than a Country Life. + +_Eu._ Have you a Mind to make Tryal of it? If you have, come take a +Dinner with me to Morrow: I have a pretty neat little Country House, a +little Way out of Town. + +_Ti._ We are too many of us; we shall eat you out of House and Home. + +_Eu._ Never fear that, you're to expect only a Garden Treat, of such +Chear as I need not go to Market for. The Wine is of my own Growth; the +Pompions, the Melons, the Figs, the Pears, the Apples and Nuts, are +offered to you by the Trees themselves; you need but gape, and they'll +fall into your Mouth, as it is in the _fortunate Islands_, if we may +give Credit to _Lucian_. Or, it may be, we may get a Pullet out of the +Hen-roost, or so. + +_Ti._ Upon these Terms we'll be your Guests. + +_Eu._ And let every Man bring his Friend along with him, and then, as +you now are four, we shall be the just Number of the Muses. + +_Ti._ A Match. + +_Eu._ And take Notice, that I shall only find Meat, you are to bring +your own Sauce. + +_Ti._ What Sauce do you mean, Pepper, or Sugar? + +_Eu._ No, no, something that's cheaper, but more savoury. + +_Ti._ What's that? + +_Eu._ A good Stomach. A light Supper to Night, and a little Walk to +Morrow Morning, and that you may thank my Country House for. But at what +Hour do you please to dine at? + +_Ti._ At ten a Clock. Before it grows too hot. + +_Eu._ I'll give Order accordingly. + +_Boy._ Sir, the Gentlemen are come. + +_Eu._ You are welcome, Gentlemen, that you are come according to your +Words; but you're twice as welcome for coming so early, and bringing the +best of Company along with you. There are some Persons who are guilty of +an unmannerly Civility, in making their Host wait for them. + +_Ti._ We came the earlier, that we might have Time enough to view all +the Curiosities of your Palace; for we have heard that it is so +admirably contrived every where, as that it speaks who's the Master of +it. + +_Eu._ And you will see a Palace worthy of such a Prince. This little +Nest is to me more than a Court, and if he may be said to reign that +lives at Liberty according to his Mind, I reign here. But I think it +will be best, while the Wench in the Kitchen provides us a Salad, and it +is the cool of the Morning, to take a Walk to see the Gardens. + +_Ti._ Have you any other beside this? For truly this is a wonderful neat +one, and with a pleasing Aspect salutes a Man at his entring in, and +bids him welcome. + +_Eu._ Let every Man gather a Nosegay, that may put by any worse Scent he +may meet with within Doors. Every one likes not the same Scent, +therefore let every one take what he likes. Don't be sparing, for this +Place lies in a Manner common; I never shut it up but a-Nights. + +_Ti._ St. Peter keeps the Gates, I perceive. + +_Eu._ I like this Porter better than the _Mercuries_, Centaurs, and +other fictitious Monsters, that some paint upon their Doors. + +_Ti._ And 'tis more suitable to a Christian too. + +_Eu._ Nor is my Porter dumb, for he speaks to you in Three Languages. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ Read it yourself. + +_Ti._ It is too far off for my Eyes. + +_Eu._ Here's a reading Glass, that will make you another _Lynceus._ + +_Ti._ I see the Latin. _Si vis ad vitam ingredi, serva mandata_, Mat. +19, 17. If thou wilt, enter into Life, keep the Commandments. + +_Eu._ Now read the _Greek_. + +_Ti._ I see the _Greek_, but I don't well know what to make on't; I'll +refer that to _Theophilus_, who's never without _Greek_ in his Mouth. + +_Th._ [Greek: Metanoesate kai epistrepsate. Praxeon to trito.] _Repent +and be converted._ Acts 3. 19. + +_Ch._ I'll take the _Hebrew_ upon myself, [Hebrew: vetsadik be'emunato +yihyeh] _And the Just shall live by Faithfulness._ + +_Eu._ Does he seem to be an unmannerly Porter, who at first Dash, bids +us turn from our Iniquities, and apply our selves to Godliness, and then +tells us, that Salvation comes not from the Works of the Law; but from +the Faith of the Gospel; and last of all, that the Way to eternal Life, +is by the Observance of evangelical Precepts. + +_Ti._ And see the Chapel there on the right Hand that he directs us to, +it is a very fine one. Upon the Altar there's _Jesus Christ_ looking up +to Heaven, and pointing with his right Hand towards God the Father, and +the holy Spirit; and with his Left, he seems to court and invite all +Comers. + +_Eu._ Nor is he mute: You see the _Latin; Ego sum via, veritas, et vita; +I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life._ [Greek: Ego eimi to alpha kai to +omega.] In _Hebrew_, [Hebrew: Lechu banim shim'uh li, yr'at adonai +alamdeichem] _Come, ye Children, hearken unto me; I will teach you the +fear of the Lord._ + +_Ti._ Truly the Lord _Jesus_ salutes us with a good Omen. + +_Eu._ But that we may not seem uncivil, it is meet that we pay back an +Acknowledgment, and pray that since we can do nothing of ourselves, he +would vouchsafe of his infinite Goodness to keep us from ever straying +out of the Path of Life; but that we casting away _Jewish_ Ceremonies, +and the Delusions of the World, he would guide us by the Truth of the +Gospel to everlasting Life, drawing us of himself to himself. + +_Ti._ It is most reasonable that we should pray, and the Place invites +us to it. + +_Eu._ The Pleasantness of the Garden draws a great many Persons to it; +and 'tis a rare Thing that any Passes by Jesus without an Ejaculation. I +have made him Keeper, not only of my Garden, but of all my Possessions, +and of both Body and Mind, instead of filthy _Priapus_. Here is you see +a little Fountain pleasantly bubbling with wholsome Waters, this in some +Measure represents that only Fountain of Life, that by its divine +Streams, refreshes all that are weary and heavy laden; which the Soul, +tired with the Evils of this World, pants after, just as the Hart in the +Psalmist does after the Water Brooks, having tasted of the Flesh of +Serpents. From this Fountain, whoever thirsts, may drink _gratis_. Some +make it a Matter of Religion to sprinkle themselves with it; and others +for the Sake of Religion, and not of Thirst, drink of it. You are loath, +I perceive, to leave this Place: But it is Time to go to see this little +square Garden that is wall'd in, 'tis a neater one than the other. What +is to be seen within Doors, you shall see after Dinner, when the Heat of +the Sun keeps us at Home for some Hours like Snails. + +_Ti._ Bless me! What a delightful Prospect is here. + +_Eu._ All this Place was designed for a Pleasure Garden, but for honest +Pleasure; for the Entertainment of the Sight, the recreating the +Nostrils, and refreshing the Mind; nothing grows here but sweet Herbs, +nor every Sort of them, but only choice ones, and every Kind has its Bed +by itself. + +_Ti._ I am now convinced that Plants are not mute with you. + +_Eu._ You are in the Right; others have magnificent Houses, but mine is +made for Conversation, so that I can never be alone in it, and so you'll +say, when you have seen it all. As the several Plants are as it were +form'd into several Troops, so every Troop has its Standard to itself, +with a peculiar Motto, as this Marjoram's is, _Abstine, sus, non tibi +spiro: Keep off, Sow, I don't breathe my Perfume for thee_; for though +it be of a very fragrant Scent, yet Sows have a natural Aversion to it: +And so every Sort has its Title, denoting the peculiar Virtue of the +Plant. + +_Ti._ I have seen nothing yet more delightful than this little Fountain, +which being in the midst of them, does as it were smile upon all the +Plants, and promises them Refreshment against the scorching Heat of the +Sun. But this little Channel which shews the Water to the Eye so +advantageously, and divides the Garden every where at such equal +Distances, that it shews all the Flowers over on both Sides again, as in +a Looking-glass, is it made of Marble? + +_Eu._ Marble, quoth thee, how should Marble come hither? It is a +counterfeit Marble, made of a sort of Loam, and a whitish Colour given +it in the Glasing. + +_Ti._ But where does this delicious Rivulet discharge itself at last? + +_Eu._ Just as it is with human Obligations, when we have served our own +Turns: After this has pleasured our Eyes, it washes our Kitchen, and +passes through the Sink into the common Shore. + +_Ti._ That's very hard-hearted, as I am a Christian. + +_Eu._ It had been hard-hearted, if the divine Bounty of Providence had +not appointed it for this Use. We are then hard-hearted, when we pollute +the Fountain of divine Truth, that is much more pleasant than this, and +was given us for the refreshing and purging our Minds from our Lusts and +vicious Appetites, abusing the unspeakable Bounty of God: For we make no +bad Use of the Water, if we put it to the several Uses for which he +appointed it, who supplies every Thing abundantly for human Use. + +_Ti._ You say right: But how comes it about, that all your artificial +Hedges are green too? + +_Eu._ Because I would have every Thing green here. Some are for a +Mixture of Red, because that sets off Green: But I like this best, as +every Man has his Fancy, though it be but in a Garden. + +_Ti._ The Garden is very fine of itself; but methinks these three Walks +take off very much from the Lightsomeness and Pleasantness of it. + +_Eu._ Here I either study or walk alone, or talk with a Friend, or eat, +as the Humour takes me. + +_Ti._ Those speckled, wonderful, pretty party-coloured Pillars, that at +equal Distances support that Edifice, are they Marble? + +_Eu._ Of the same Marble that this Channel is made of. + +_Ti._ In Truth, a pretty Cheat, I should have sworn they had been +Marble. + +_Eu._ For this Reason then, take Care that you neither believe, nor +swear any Thing rashly: You see how a Man may be mistaken. What I want +in Wealth, I supply by Invention. + +_Ti._ Could you not be content with so neat, and well furnished a Garden +in Substance, without other Gardens in Picture besides? + +_Eu._ In the first Place, one Garden will not hold all Sorts of Plants; +and in the second, 'tis a double Pleasure, to see a painted Flower vie +with the Life; and in one we contemplate the Artifice of Nature, in the +other the Skill of the Painter; and in both, the Goodness of God, who +gives all Things for our Use, in every Thing equally admirable and +amiable: And in the last Place, a Garden is not always green; nor the +Flowers always fresh; but this Garden is fresh and green all the Winter. + +_Ti._ But it is not fragrant. + +_Eu._ But then on the other Hand it wants no dressing. + +_Ti._ It only delights the Eye. + +_Eu._ But then it does that always. + +_Ti._ Pictures themselves grow old. + +_Eu._ They do so; but yet they out-live us; and besides, whereas we are +the worse for Age, they are the better for it. + +_Ti._ That's too true, if it could be otherwise. + +_Eu._ In this Walk that looks toward the West, I take the Benefit of the +Morning Sun; in that which looks toward the East, I take the Cool of the +Evening; in that which looks toward the South, but lies open to the +North, I take Sanctuary against the Heats of the Meridian Sun; but we'll +walk 'em over, if you please, and take a nearer View of them: See how +green 'tis under Foot, and you have the Beauty of painted Flowers in the +very Chequers of the Pavement. This Wood, that you see painted upon this +Wall, affords me a great Variety of Prospect: For in the first Place, as +many Trees as you see, so many Sorts of Trees you see; and all express'd +to the Life. As many Birds as you see, so many Kinds you see; especially +if there be any scarce Ones, and remarkable upon any Account. For as for +Geese, Hens, and Ducks, it is not worth While to draw them. Underneath +are four-footed Creatures, or such Birds as live upon the Ground, after +the Manner of Quadrupedes. + +_Ti._ The Variety indeed is wonderful, and every Thing is in Action, +either doing or saying something. There's an Owl sits peeping through +the Leaves, what says she? + +_Eu._ She speaks _Greek_; she says, [Greek: Sophronei, ou pasin +hiptemi], she commands us to act advisedly; _I do not fly to all_; +because an inconsiderate Rashness does not fall out happily to all +Persons. There is an Eagle quarrying upon a Hare, and a Beetle +interceding to no Purpose; there is a Wren stands by the Beetle, and she +is a mortal Enemy to the Eagle. + +_Ti._ What has this Swallow got in her Mouth? + +_Eu._ The Herb Celandine; don't you know the Plant? with it, she +restores Sight to her blind young Ones. + +_Ti._ What odd Sort of Lizard is this? + +_Eu._ It is not a Lizard, but a Chamaeleon. + +_Ti._ Is this the Chamaeleon, there is so much Talk of? I thought it had +been a Beast twice as big as a Lion, and the Name is twice as long too. + +_En._ This Chamaeleon is always gaping, and always hungry. This is a +wild Fig-Tree, and that is his Aversion. He is otherwise harmless; and +yet the little gaping Creature has Poison in him too, that you mayn't +contemn him. + +_Ti._ But I don't see him change his Colour. + +_Eu._ True; because he does not change his Place; when he changes his +Place, you will see him change his Colour too. + +_Ti._ What's the Meaning of that Piper? + +_Eu._ Don't you see a Camel there dancing hard by? + +_Ti._ I see a very pleasant Fancy; the Ape pipes, and the Camel dances. + +_Eu._ But it would require at least three Days to run through the +Particulars one by one; it will be enough at present to take a cursory +View of them. You have in the first Spot, all Sorts of famous Plants +painted to the Life: And to increase the Wonder, here are the strongest +Poisons in the World, which you may not only look upon, but handle too +without Danger. + +_Ti._ Look ye, here is a Scorpion, an Animal very seldom seen in this +Country; but very frequent in _Italy_, and very mischievous too: But the +Colour in the Picture seems not to be natural. + +_Eu._ Why so? + +_Ti._ It seems too pale methinks; for those in _Italy_ are blacker. + +_Eu._ Don't you know the Herb it has fallen upon? + +_Ti._ Not very well. + +_Eu._ That's no Wonder, for it does not grow in these Parts: It is +Wolf's-bane, so deadly a Poison, that upon the very touch of it, a +Scorpion is stupified, grows pale, and yields himself overcome; but when +he is hurt with one Poison, he seeks his Remedy with another. Do you see +the two Sorts of Hellebore hard by; if the Scorpion can but get himself +clear of the Wolf's-bane, and get to the white Hellebore, he recovers +his former Vigour, by the very Touch of a different Poison. + +_Ti._ Then the Scorpion is undone, for he is never like to get off from +the Wolfs'-bane. But do Scorpions speak here? + +_Eu._ Yes, they do, and speak _Greek_ too. + +_Ti._ What does he say? + +_Eu._ [Greek: Eure theos ton alitron], _God hath found out the Guilty._ +Here besides the Grass, you see all Sorts of Serpents. Here is the +Basilisk, that is not only formidable for his Poison; but the very Flash +of his Eyes is also mortal. + +_Ti._ And he says something too. + +_Eu._ Yes, he says, _Oderint, dum metuant; Let them hate me, so they +fear me._ + +_Ti._ Spoken like a King entirely. + +_Eu._ Like a Tyrant rather, not at all like a King. Here a Lizard fights +with a Viper, and here lies the _Dipsas_ Serpent upon the Catch, hid +under the Shell of an _Estridge_ Egg. Here you see the whole Policy of +the Ant, which we are call'd upon to imitate by _Solomon_ and _Horace_. +Here are _Indian_ Ants that carry Gold, and hoard it up. + +_Ti._ O good God! how is it possible for a Man to be weary of this +Entertainment. + +_Eu._ And yet at some other Time you shall see I'll give you your Belly +full of it. Now look before you at a Distance, there is a third Wall, +where you have Lakes, Rivers, and Seas, and all Sorts of rare Fishes. +This is the River _Nile_, in which you see the _Dolphin_, that natural +Friend to Mankind, fighting with a _Crocodile_, Man's deadly Enemy. Upon +the Banks and Shores you see several amphibious Creatures, as Crabs, +Seals, Beavers. Here is a Polypus, a Catcher catch'd by an Oyster. + +_Ti._ What does he say? [Greek: airon airoumai]; _The Taker taken._ The +Painter has made the Water wonderfully transparent. + +_Eu._ If he had not done so, we should have wanted other Eyes. Just by +there's another Polypus playing upon the Face of the Sea like a little +Cock-Boat; and there you see a Torpedo lying along upon the Sands, both +of a Colour, you may touch them here with your Hand without any Danger. +But we must go to something else, for these Things feed the Eye, but not +the Belly. + +_Ti._ Have you any more to be seen then? + +_Eu._ You shall see what the Back-side affords us by and by. Here's an +indifferent large Garden parted: The one a Kitchen Garden, that is my +Wife's and the Family's; the other is a Physick Garden, containing the +choicest physical Herbs. At the left Hand there is an open Meadow, that +is only a green Plot enclos'd with a quick-set Hedge. There sometimes I +take the Air, and divert myself with good Company. Upon the right Hand +there's an Orchard, where, when you have Leisure, you shall see a great +Variety of foreign Trees, that I have brought by Degrees to endure this +Climate. + +_Ti._ O wonderful! the King himself has not such a Seat. + +_Eu._ At the End of the upper Walk there's an Aviary, which I'll shew +you after Dinner, and there you'll see various Forms, and hear various +Tongues, and their Humours are as various. Among some of them there is +an Agreeableness and mutual Love, and among others an irreconcilable +Aversion: And then they are so tame and familiar, that when I'm at +Supper, they'll come flying in at the Window to me, even to the Table, +and take the Meat out of my Hands. If at any Time I am upon the +Draw-Bridge you see there, talking, perhaps with a Friend, they'll some +of them sit hearkening, others of them will perch upon my Shoulders or +Arms, without any Sort of Fear, for they find that no Body hurts them. +At the further End of the Orchard I have my Bees, which is a Sight worth +seeing. But I must not show you any more now, that I may have something +to entertain you with by and by. I'll shew you the rest after Dinner. + +_Boy._ Sir, my Mistress and Maid say that the Dinner will be spoil'd. + +_Eu._ Bid her have a little Patience, and we'll come presently. My +friends, let us wash, that we may come to the Table with clean Hands as +well as Hearts. The very _Pagans_ us'd a Kind of Reverence in this Case; +how much more then should _Christians_ do it; if it were but in +Imitation of that sacred Solemnity of our Saviour with his Disciples at +his last Supper: And thence comes the Custom of washing of Hands, that +if any Thing of Hatred, Ill-Will, or any Pollution should remain in the +Mind of any one, he might purge it out, before he sits down at the +Table. For it is my Opinion, that the Food is the wholesomer for the +Body, if taken with a purified Mind. + +_Ti._ We believe that it is a certain Truth. + +_Eu. Christ_ himself gave us this Example, that we should sit down to +the Table with a Hymn; and I take it from this, that we frequently read +in the Evangelists, that he bless'd or gave Thanks to his Father before +he broke Bread, and that he concluded with giving of Thanks: And if you +please, I'll say you a Grace that St. _Chrysostom_ commends to the Skies +in one of his Homilies, which he himself interpreted. + +_Ti._ We desire you would. + +_Eu._ Blessed be thou, O God, who has fed me from my Youth up, and +providest Food for all Flesh: Fill thou our Hearts with Joy and +Gladness, that partaking plentifully of thy Bounty, we may abound to +every good Work, through _Christ Jesus_ our Lord, with whom, to thee and +the Holy Ghost, be Glory, Honour, and Power, World without End. _Amen._ + +_Eu._ Now sit down, and let every Man take his Friend next him: The +first Place is yours, _Timothy_, in Right of your Grey Hairs. + +_Ti._ The only Thing in the World that gives a Title to it. + +_Eu._ We can only judge of what we see, and must leave the rest to God. +_Sophronius_, keep you close to your Principal. _Theophilus_ and +_Eulalius_, do you take the right Side of the Table; _Chrysoglottus_ and +_Theodidactus_ they shall have the left. _Uranius_ and _Nephalius_ must +make a Shift with what is left. I'll keep this Corner. + +_Ti._ This must not be, the Master of the House ought to take the first +Place. + +_Eu._ The House is as much yours as mine, Gentlemen; however, if I may +rule within my own Jurisdiction, I'll sit where I please, and I have +made my Choice already. Now may Christ, the Enlivener of all, and +without whom nothing can be pleasant, vouchsafe to be with us, and +exhilarate our Minds by his Presence. + +_Ti._ I hope he will be pleased so to do; but where shall he sit, for +the Places are all taken up? + +_Eu._ I would have him in every Morsel and Drop that we eat and drink; +but especially, in our Minds. And the better to fit us for the Reception +of so divine a Guest, if you will, you shall have some Portion of +Scripture read in the Interim; but so that you shall not let that hinder +you from eating your Dinner heartily. + +_Ti._ We will eat heartily, and attend diligently. + +_Eu._ This Entertainment pleases me so much the better, because it +diverts vain and frivolous Discourse, and affords Matter of profitable +Conversation: I am not of their Mind, who think no Entertainment +diverting, that does not abound with foolish wanton Stories, and bawdy +Songs. There is pure Joy springs from a clear and pure Conscience; and +those are the happy Conversations, where such Things are mentioned, that +we can reflect upon afterwards with Satisfaction and Delight; and not +such as we shall afterwards be ashamed of, and have Occasion to repent +of. + +_Ti._ It were well if we were all as careful to consider those Things as +we are sure they are true. + +_Eu._ And besides, these Things have not only a certain and valuable +Profit in them, but one Month's Use of them, would make them become +pleasant too. + +_Ti._ And therefore it is the best Course we can take to accustom +ourselves to that which is best. + +_Eu._ Read us something, Boy, and speak out distinctly. + +_Boy._ Prov. xxi. _The King's Heart is in the Hand of the Lord; as the +Rivers of Waters, he turneth it whither soever he will. Every Man is +right in his own Eyes, but the Lord pondereth the Hearts. To do Justice +and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than Sacrifice_, ver. 1, 2, +3. + +_Eu._ Hold there, that's enough; for it is better to take down a little +with an Appetite, than to devour more than a Man can digest. + +_Ti._ 'Tis better, I must confess, in more Cases than this: _Pliny_ +would have one never have _Tully's_ Offices out of ones Hand; and in my +Opinion, it were well if all Persons, but especially Statesmen, had him +every Word by Heart: And as for this little Book of Proverbs, I have +always look'd upon it the best Manual we can carry about with us. + +_Eu._ I knew our Dinner would be unsavoury, and therefore I procured +this Sauce. + +_Ti._ Here is nothing but what is very good; but if you had given us +this Lecture to a Dish of Beets only, without either Pepper, Wine or +Vinegar, it would have been a delicious Treat. + +_Eu._ I could commend it with a better Grace, if I did but perfectly +understand what I have heard. And I would we had some able Divine among +us, that did not only understand it, but would thoroughly expound it. +But I don't know how far it may be lawful for us Laymen to descant upon +these Matters. + +_Ti._ Indeed, I see no Hurt in't, even for a _Tarpawlin_ to do it, +abating the Rashness of passing Sentence in the Case. And who knows but +that _Christ_ himself (who has promis'd to be present, where two or +three are gathered together in his Name) may vouchsafe his Assistance to +us, that are a much larger Congregation. + +_Eu._ What if we should take these three Verses, and divide 'em among us +nine Guests? + +_Guests._ We like it well, provided the Master of the Feast lead the +Way. + +_Eu._ I would not refuse it; but that I am afraid I shall entertain you +worse in my Exposition, than I do in my Dinner: But however, Ceremony +apart, that I may not seem to want much Persuasion, omitting other +Meanings that Interpreters put upon the Place: This seems to me to be +the moral Sense; "That private Men may be wrought upon by Admonition, +Reproofs, Laws and Menaces; but Kings who are above Fear, the more they +are opposed, the fiercer their Displeasure; and therefore Kings, as +often as they are resolutely bent upon any, should be left to +themselves: Not in respect of any Confidence of the Goodness of their +Inclinations; but because God many Times makes Use of their Follies and +Wickedness, as the Instruments for the Punishment of the Wicked." As he +forbad that _Nebuchodonosor_ should be resisted, because he had +determin'd to chastise his People by him, as an Instrument. And +peradventure, that which _Job_ says, looks this Way: _Who maketh the +Hypocrite reign for the Sins of his People._ And perhaps, that which +_David_ says, bewailing his Sin, has the same Tendency: _Against thee +only have I sinned, and done this Evil in thy Sight:_ Not as if the +Iniquity of Kings were not fatal to the People; but because there is +none that has Authority to condemn them, but God, from whose Judgment +there is indeed no Appeal, be the Person never so great. + +_Ti._ I like the Interpretation well enough thus far; but what is meant +by _the Rivers of Waters?_ + +_Eu._ There is a Similitude made Use of that explains it. The Wrath of a +King is impetuous and unruly, and not to be led this Way or that Way, +but presses forward with a restless Fury: As the Sea spreads itself over +the Land, and flows sometimes this Way, and sometimes that Way, not +sparing Pastures nor Palaces, and sometimes buries in its own Bowels all +that stands in its Way; and if you should attempt to stop its Course, or +to turn it another Way, you may e'en as well let it alone: Whereas, let +it but alone, and it will sink of itself, as it happens in many great +Rivers, as is storied of _Achelous._ There is less Injury done by +quietly yielding, than by violently resisting. + +_Ti._ Is there no Remedy then against the Unruliness of wicked Kings? + +_Eu._ The first will be, not to receive a Lion into the City: The +second, is to tie him up by parliamentary and municipal Laws, that he +can't easily break out into Tyranny: But the best of all would be, to +train him up from his Childhood, in the Principles of Piety and Virtue, +and to form his Will, before he understands his Power. Good Counsels and +Persuasions go a great Way, provided they be seasonable and gentle. But +the last Resort must be to beg of God, to incline the King's Heart to +those Things that are becoming a Christian King. + +_Ti._ Do you excuse yourself, because you are a Layman? If I were a +Batchelor in Divinity, I should value myself upon this Interpretation. + +_Eu._ I can't tell whether it is right or wrong, it is enough for me if +it were not impious or heretical. However, I have done what you required +of me; and now, according to the Rules of Conversation, 'tis my Turn to +hear your Opinion. + +_Ti._ The Compliment you pass'd upon my grey Hairs, gives me some kind +of Title to speak next to the Text, which will bear yet a more +mysterious Meaning. + +_Eu._ I believe it may, and I should be glad to hear it. + +_Ti._ "By the Word King, may be meant, a Man so perfected, as to have +wholly subdued his Lusts, and to be led by the Impulse of the Divine +Spirit only. Now perhaps it may not be proper to tie up such a Person to +the Conditions of human Laws; but to leave him to his Master, by whom he +is govern'd: Nor is he to be judg'd according to the Measures by which +the Frailty of imperfect Men advances towards true Holiness; but if he +steers another Course, we ought to say with St. _Paul, God hath accepted +him, and to his own Master he stands or falls. He that is spiritual, +judgeth of all Things, but he himself is judged of no Man_." To such, +therefore, let no Man prescribe; for the Lord, who hath appointed Bounds +to the Seas and Rivers, hath the Heart of the King in his Hand, and +inclines it which Way soever it pleases him: What need is there to +prescribe to him, that does of his own accord better Things than human +Laws oblige him to? Or, how great a Rashness were it, to bind that +Person by human Constitutions, who, it is manifest, by evident Tokens, +is directed by the Inspirations of the Holy Spirit. + +_Eu._ O _Timothy_, thou hast not only got grey Hairs on this Head, but +you have likewise a Mind venerable for experimental Knowledge. And I +would to God, that we had more such Kings as this King of yours among +Christians, who, indeed, all of them ought to be such. But we have dwelt +long enough upon our Eggs and Herbs; let them be taken away, and +something else set in their Room. + +_Ti._ We have done so well already on this Ovation, that there is no +Need of any more, either of Supplication or Triumph. + +_Eu._ But since, by God's Assistance, we have succeeded so well in the +first Verse, I wish your _Umbra_ would explain the other, which seems to +me a little more obscure. + +_Soph._ If you'll put a good Construction upon what I shall say, I will +give you my Thoughts upon it. How else can a Shadow pretend to give +Light to any Thing? + +_Eu._ I undertake that for all the Company; such Shadows as you give as +much Light as our Eyes will well bear. + +_Soph._ The same Thing seems to be meant here, that _Paul_ says: _That +there are several Ways of Life, that lead to Holiness_. Some affect the +Ministry, some Celibacy, others a married State; some a retired Life, +others publick Administrations of the Government, according to the +various Dispositions of their Bodies and Minds: Again, to one Man all +Meats are indifferent, another puts a Difference betwixt this Meat and +that; another he makes a Difference of Days, another thinks every Day +alike. In these Things St. _Paul_ would have every one enjoy his own +Freedom of Mind, without reproaching another; nor should we censure any +Man in those Cases, but leave him to be judg'd by him that weigheth the +Heart. It oftentimes happens, that he that eats may be more acceptable +to God, than he that forbears; and he that breaks a Holy-day, than he +that seems to observe it; and he that marries, is more acceptable to +God, than a great many that live single. I who am but a Shadow, have +spoken my Mind. + +_Eu._ I wish I could have Conversation with such Shadows often. I think +you have hit the Nail on the Head: But here is one that has lived a +Batchelor, and not of the Number of Saints, who have made themselves +Eunuchs for the Sake of the Kingdom of God but was made so by force, to +gratify our Bellies, _till God shall destroy both them and Meats_. It is +a Capon of my own feeding. I am a great Lover of boil'd Meats. This is a +very good Soop, and these are choice Lettuces that are in it. Pray every +one help himself to what he likes best. But that you may not be +deceiv'd, I tell you, that we have a Course of Roast a coming, and after +that some small Desert, and so conclude. + +_Ti._ But we exclude your Wife from Table. + +_Eu._ When you bring your own Wives, mine shall keep them Company. She +would, if she were here, be nothing but a Mute in our Company. She talks +with more Freedom among the Women, and we are more at Liberty to +philosophise. And besides that, there would be Danger, lest we should be +serv'd as _Socrates_ was, when he had several Philosophers at Table with +him, who took more Pleasure in talking than they did in eating, and held +a long Dispute, had all their Meat thrown on the Floor by _Xantippe_, +who in a Rage overturn'd the Table. + +_Ti._ I believe you have nothing of that to be afraid of: She's one of +the best-humour'd Women in the World. + +_Eu._ She is such a one indeed, that I should be loath to change her if +I might; and I look upon myself to be very happy upon that Account. Nor +do I like their Opinion, who think a Man happy, because he never had a +Wife; I approve rather what the _Hebrew_ Sage said, _He that has a good +Wife has a good Lot_. + +_Ti._ It is commonly our own Fault, if our Wives be bad, either for +loving such as are bad, or making them so; or else for not teaching them +better. + +_Eu._ You say very right, but all this While I want to hear the third +Verse expounded: And methinks the divine _Theophilus_ looks as if he had +a Mind to do it. + +_Theo._ Truly my Mind was upon my Belly; but however, I'll speak my +Mind, since I may do it without Offence. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Favour to us if you should happen to be in any +Error, because by that Means you will give us Occasion of finding the +Truth. + +_Th._ The Sentence seems to be of the same Importance with that the Lord +expresses by the Prophet _Hosea_, Chap. vi. _I desire Mercy and not +Sacrifice, and the Knowledge of God more than Burnt-Offerings_. This is +fully explain'd, and to the Life, by the Lord _Jesus_, in St. _Matthew_, +Chap. ix. who being at Table in the House of _Levi_ the Publican, with +several others of the same Stamp and Profession, the _Pharisees_, who +were puff'd up with their external Observance of the Law, without any +Regard to the Precepts of it, whereupon the whole Law and Prophets +depend, (with a Design to alienate the Affections of his Disciples from +him) ask'd them, why their Master sat at the Table of Publicans and +Sinners. From whose Conversation those _Jews_, that would be accounted +the more holy, abstain'd; to that Degree, that if any of the stricter +Sort had met any of them by Chance, as soon as they came Home they would +wash themselves. And when the Disciples, being yet but raw, could give +no Answer; the Lord answer'd both for himself and them: _They_ (says he) +_who are whole need not a Physician, but they that are sick; but go you +and learn what that meaneth, I will have Mercy and not Sacrifice; for I +came not to call the Righteous but Sinners_. + +_Eu._ Indeed you have very handsomely explain'd the Matter, by the +comparing of Texts, which is the best Way of expounding Scripture. But I +would fain know what it is he calls Sacrifice, and what Mercy. For how +can we reconcile it, that God should be against Sacrifices, who had +commanded so many to be offered? + +_Th._ How far God is against Sacrifices, he himself teaches us in the +first Chapter of the Prophecy of _Isaiah_. There were certain legal +Obligations among the _Jews_, which were rather Significations of +Holiness, than of the Essence of it; of this Sort are Holy-Days, +Sabbatisms, Fasts, Sacrifices; and there were certain other Obligations +of perpetual Force, being good in their own Nature, and not meerly by +being commanded. Now God was displeased with the _Jews_, not because +they did observe the Rites and Ceremonies, but because being vainly +puffed up with these, they neglected those Things which God does in a +more especial Manner require of us; and wallowing in Avarice, Pride, +Rapines, Hatred, Envy, and other Iniquities, they thought they merited +Heaven, because that upon Holy-Days, they visited the Temple, offered +Sacrifices, abstained from forbidden Meats, and frequently fasted; +embracing the Shadow of Religion, and neglecting the Substance. But in +that, he says, _I will have Mercy, and not Sacrifice_; I take it to be +said according to the Idiom of the _Hebrew_ Tongue; that is to say, +_Mercy rather than Sacrifices, as Solomon_ interprets it in this Text, +_to do Mercy and Judgment, is more acceptable to the Lord than +Sacrifices_. And again, the Scripture expresses all the charitable +Offices to our Neighbour, under the Terms of Mercy, and eleemosynary +Tenderness, which takes its Name from Pity. By Sacrifices, I suppose is +intended, whatsoever respects corporal Ceremonies, and has any Affinity +with Judaism, such as are the choice of Meats, appointed Garments, +Fasting, Sacrifices, the saying over of Prayers, as a Boy says his +Lesson: resting upon Holy-Days. These Things, as they are not to be +neglected in their due Season, so they become displeasing to God, if a +Man relying too much upon these Observances, shall neglect to do Acts of +Mercy, as often as his Brother's Necessity requires it. And it has some +Appearance of Holiness in it, to avoid the Conversation of wicked Men: +But this ought to give Place as oft as there is an Opportunity offer'd +of shewing Charity to our Neighbour. It is a Point of Obedience to rest +upon Holy Days: But it would be very impious to make such a Conscience +of a Day as to suffer a Brother to perish upon it. Therefore to keep the +Lord's Day is a Kind of _Sacrifice_: But to be reconcil'd to my Brother +is a Point of _Mercy_. And then, as for _Judgment_, though that may seem +to respect Persons in Power; who oftentimes oppress the weak therewith, +yet it seems reasonable enough in my Opinion that the poor Man should +remind him of that in _Hosea, And the Knowledge of God more than burnt +Offerings_. No Man can be said to keep the Law of God, but he that keeps +it according to the Mind of God. The _Jews_ could lift up an Ass upon +the Sabbath that was fallen into a Pit, and yet calumniated our Saviour +for preserving a Man upon that Day. This was a preposterous Judgment, +and not according to the Knowledge of God; for they did not consider +that these Things were made for Man, and not Man for them. But I should +have esteem'd it Presumption in me to have said these Things, if you had +not commanded it; and I had rather learn of others Things more _a +propos_. + +_Eu._ This is so far from being a Presumption, that it looks rather like +an Inspiration. But while we are thus plentifully feeding our Souls, we +must not neglect their Companions. + +_Ti._ Who are those? + +_Eu._ Our Bodies; are not they the Soul's Companions? I had rather call +them so, than Instruments, Habitations or Sepulchres. + +_Ti._ This is certainly to be plentifully refresh'd when the whole Man +is refresh'd. + +_Eu._ I see you are very backward to help yourselves; therefore, if you +please, I'll order the Roast-Meat to be brought us, lest instead of a +good Entertainment I should treat you with a long one. Now you see your +Ordinary. Here is a Shoulder of Mutton, but it is a very fine one, a +Capon and two Brace of Partridges. These indeed I had from the Market, +this little Farm supply'd me with the rest. + +_Ti._ It is a noble Dinner, fit for a Prince. + +_Eu._ For a _Carmelite_, you mean. But such as it is you are welcome to +it. If the Provision be not very dainty you have it very freely. + +_Ti._ Your House is so full of Talk, that not only the Walls but the +very Cup speaks. + +_Eu._ What does it say? + +_Ti. No Man is hurt but by himself._ + +_Eu._ The Cup pleads for the Cause of the Wine. For it is a common +Thing, if Persons get a Fever or the Head-ach by over drinking, to lay +it upon the Wine, when they have brought it upon themselves by their +Excess. + +_Soph._ Mine speaks _Greek_. [Greek: En oino aletheia.] _In Wine there's +Truth_ (when Wine is in the Wit is out.) + +_Eu._ This gives us to understand that it is not safe for Priests or +Privy-Counsellors to give themselves so to Wine, because Wine commonly +brings that to the Mouth that lay conceal'd in the Heart. + +_Soph._ In old Time among the _Egyptians_ it was unlawful for their +Priests to drink any Wine at all, and yet in those Days there was no +auricular Confession. + +_Eu._ It is now become lawful for all Persons to drink Wine, but how +expedient it is I know not. What Book is that, _Eulalius_, you take out +of your Pocket? It seems to be a very neat one, it is all over gilded. + +_Eulal._ It is more valuable for the Inside than the Out. It is St. +_Paul's_ Epistles, that I always carry about me, as my beloved +Entertainment, which I take out now upon the Occasion of something you +said, which minds me of a Place that I have beat my Brains about a long +Time, and I am not come to a full Satisfaction in yet. It is in the 6th +Chapter of the first Epistle to the _Corinthians_, _All Things are +lawful for me, but all Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful +for me, but I will not be brought under the Power of any_. In the first +Place (if we will believe the Stoicks) nothing can be profitable to us, +that is not honest: How comes _Paul_ then to distinguish betwixt that +which is lawful, and that which is expedient? It is not lawful to whore, +or get drunk, how then are all Things lawful? But if _Paul_ speaks of +some particular Things only, which he would have to be lawful, I can't +guess by the Tenor of the Place, which those particular Things are. +From that which follows, it may be gather'd, that he there speaks of the +Choice of Meats. For some abstain from Things offer'd to Idols, and +others from Meats forbidden by _Moses_'s Law. In the 8th Chapter he +treats of Things offer'd to Idols, and in the 10th Chapter explaining +the Meaning of this Place, says, _All Things are lawful for me, but all +Things are not expedient; all Things are lawful for me, but all Things +edify not. Let no Man seek his own, but every Man the Things of another. +Whatsoever is sold in the Shambles, eat ye_. And that which St. _Paul_ +subjoins, agrees with what he said before: _Meats for the Belly, and the +Belly for Meats; but God shall destroy both it and them_. Now that which +has Respect to the _Judaical_ Choice of Meats, is in the Close of the +10th Chapter. _Give none Offence, neither to the Jews nor the Gentiles, +nor to the Church of God; even as I please all Men in all Things, not +seeking my own Profit, but the Profit of many, that they may be sav'd_. +Where in that he saith to the _Gentiles_, he seems to have Respect to +Things offer'd to Idols; and where he speaketh to the _Jews_ he seems to +refer to the Choice of Meats; what he says to the Church of God +appertains to the Weak, collected out of both Sorts. It was lawful, it +seems, to eat of all Meats whatsoever, and all Things that are Clean to +the Clean. But the Question remaining is, Whether it be expedient or no? +The Liberty of the Gospel makes all Things lawful; but Charity has +always a Regard to my Neighbour's Good, and therefore often abstains +from Things lawful, rather chasing to condescend to what is for +another's Advantage, than to make Use of its own Liberty. But now here +arises a double Difficulty; first, that here is nothing that either +precedes or follows in the Context that agrees with this Sense. For he +chides the _Corinthians_ for being Seditious, Fornicators, Adulterers, +and given to go to Law before wicked Judges. Now what Coherence is there +with this to say, _All Things are lawful for me, but all Things are not +expedient_? And in the following Matter, he returns to the Case of +_Incontinence_, which he had also repeated before, only leaving out the +Charge of Contention: _But the Body_, says he, _is not for Fornication, +but for the Lord, and the Lord for the Body._ But however, this Scruple +may be solv'd too, because a little before, in the Catalogue of Sins, he +had made Mention of Idolatry. _Be not deceived, neither Fornicators, nor +Idolaters, nor Adulterers_; now the Eating of Things offer'd to Idols is +a certain Kind of Idolatry, and therefore he immediately subjoins, _Meat +is for the Belly, and the Belly for Meat_. Intimating, that in a Case of +Necessity, and for a Season, a Man may eat any Thing, unless Charity +towards his Neighbour shall dissuade it: But that Uncleanness is in all +Persons, and at all Times to be detested. It is Matter of Necessity that +we eat, but that Necessity shall be taken away at the Resurrection of +the Dead. But if we are lustful, that proceeds from Wickedness. But +there is another Scruple that I can't tell how to solve, or how to +reconcile to that Passage: _But I will not be brought under the Power of +any_. For he says, he has the Power of all Things, and yet he will not +be brought under the Power of any one. If he may be said to be under +another Man's Power, that abstains for Fear of offending, it is what he +speaks of himself in the ninth Chapter, _For though I be free from all +Men, yet have made myself Servant to all, that I may gain all._ St. +_Ambrose_ stumbling, I suppose, at this Scruple, takes this to be the +Apostle's genuine Sense for the better Understanding of what he says in +the 9th Chapter, where he claims to himself the Power of doing that +which the rest of the Apostles (either true or false) did, of receiving +a Maintenance from them to whom he preach'd the Gospel. But he forbore +this, although he might have done it, as a Thing expedient among the +_Corinthians_, whom he reprov'd for so many and enormous Iniquities. And +moreover, he that receives, is in some Degree in the Power of him from +whom he receives, and suffers some Kind of Abatement in his Authority. +For he that takes, cannot so freely reprove his Benefactor; and he that +gives will not so easily take a Reprehension from him that he has +obliged. And in this did the Apostle _Paul_ abstain from that which was +lawful, for the Credit of his apostolical Liberty, which in this Case he +would not have to be rendered obnoxious to any one, that he might with +the greater Freedom and Authority reprehend their Vices. Indeed, I like +this Explication of St. _Ambrose_ very well. But yet, if any Body had +rather apply this Passage to Meats, St. _Paul_'s, Saying, _but I will +not be brought under the Power of any_, may be taken in this Sense: +Although I may sometimes abstain from Meats offered to Idols, or +forbidden by the _Mosaical_ Law, out of Regard to the Salvation of my +Brothers Souls, and the Furtherance of the Gospel; yet my Mind is free, +well knowing that it is lawful to eat all Manner of Meats, according to +the Necessity of the Body. But there were some false Apostles, who went +about to persuade them, that some Meats, were in themselves, by their +own Nature unclean, and were to be forborn, not upon Occasion only, but +at all Times; and that as strict as Adultery or Murder. Now those that +were thus misled, were reduced under another's Power, and fell from +their Gospel Liberty. _Theophylact_ (as I remember) is the only Man that +advances an Opinion different from all these. _It is lawful_, says he, +_to eat all Sorts of Meats; but it is not expedient to eat to Excess; +for from Luxury comes Lust._ There is no Impiety, indeed, in this Sense; +but it does not seem to me to be the genuine Sense of the Place. I have +acquainted you with my Scruples, it will become your Charity to set me +to Rights. + +_Eu._ Your Discourse is, indeed, answerable to your Name, and one that +knows how to propound Questions as you do, has no Need of any Body to +answer them but himself. For you have so proposed your Doubts, as to put +one quite out of doubt, altho' St. _Paul_, in that Epistle, (proposing +to handle many Things at once) passes often from one Argument to +another, repeating what he had intermitted. + +_Ch._ If I were not afraid, that by my Loquacity I should divert you +from eating your Dinners, and did think it were lawful to intermix any +Thing out of profane Authors with sacred Discourses, I would venture to +propose something that I read to Day; not so much with Perplexity, as +with a singular Delight. + +_Eu._ Whatsoever is pious, and conduces to good Manners, ought not to be +called profane. The first Place must indeed be given to the Authority of +the Scriptures; but nevertheless, I sometimes find some Things said or +written by the Antients; nay, even by the Heathens; nay, by the Poets +themselves, so chastly, so holily, and so divinely, that I cannot +persuade myself, but that when they wrote them, they were divinely +inspired; and perhaps the Spirit of Christ diffuses itself farther than +we imagine; and that there are more Saints than we have in our +Catalogue. To confess freely among Friends, I can't read _Tully_ of _Old +Age_, of _Friendship_, his _Offices_, or his _Tusculan Questions_, +without kissing the Book, and Veneration for that divine Soul. And on +the contrary, when I read some of our modern Authors, treating of +_Politics, Oeconomics_ and _Ethics_, good God! how cold they are in +Comparison of these? Nay, how do they seem to be insensible of what they +write themselves? So that I had rather lose _Scotus_ and twenty more +such as he, than one _Cicero_ or _Plutarch_. Not that I am wholly +against them neither; but because, by the reading of the one, I find +myself become better; whereas, I rise from the other, I know not how +coldly affected to Virtue, but most violently inclin'd to Cavil and +Contention; therefore never fear to propose it, whatsoever it is. + +_Ch._ Although all _Tully_'s Books of Philosophy seem to breathe out +something divine; yet that Treatise of _Old Age_, that he wrote in old +Age, seems to me to be according to the _Greek_ Proverb; _the Song of +the dying Swan_. I was reading it to Day, and these Words pleasing me +above the rest, I got 'em by Heart: _Should it please God to give me a +Grant to begin my Life again from my very Cradle, and once more to run +over the Course of my Years I have lived, I would not upon any Terms +accept of it: Nor would I, having in a Manner finished my Race, run it +over again from the starting Place to the Goal: For what Pleasure has +this Life in it? nay, rather, what Pain has it not? But if there were +not, there would be undoubtedly in it Satiety or Trouble. I am not for +bewailing my past Life as a great many, and learned Men too, have done, +nor do I repent that I have liv'd; because, I have liv'd so, that I am +satisfy'd I have not liv'd in vain. And when I leave this Life, I leave +it as an Inn, and not as a Place of Abode. For Nature has given us our +Bodies as an Inn to lodge in, and not to dwell in. O! glorious Day will +that be, when I shall leave this Rabble-rout and Defilements of the +World behind me, to go to that Society and World of Spirits!_ Thus far +out of _Cato_. What could be spoken more divinely by a Christian? I wish +all the Discourses of our Monks, even with their holy Virgins, were such +as the Dialogue of this aged Pagan, with the Pagan Youths of his Time. + +_Eu._ It may be objected, that this Colloquy of _Tully_'s was but a +Fiction. + +_Ch._ It is all one to me, whether the Honour of these Expressions be +given to _Cato_, who thought and spoke them, or to _Cicero_, whose Mind +could form such divine Things in Contemplation, and whose Pen could +represent such excellent Matter in Words so answerable to it; though +indeed I am apt to think that _Cato_, if he did not speak these very +Words, yet that in his familiar Conversation he us'd Words of the very +same Import. For indeed, _M. Tully_ was not a Man of that Impudence, to +draw _Cato_ otherwise than he was. Beside, that such an Unlikeness in a +Dialogue would have been a great Indecorum, which is the thing chiefly +to be avoided in this Sort of Discourse; and especially, at a Time when +his Character was fresh in the Memories of all Men. + +_Th._ That which you say is very likely: But I'll tell you what came +into my Mind upon your Recital. I have often admired with myself, that +considering that all Men wish for long Life, and are afraid of Death; +that yet, I have scarce found any Man so happy, (I don't speak of old, +but of middle-aged Men); but that if the Question were put to him, +whether or no, if it should be granted him to grow young again, and run +over the same good and ill Fortune that he had before, he would not make +the same Answer that _Cato_ did; especially passing a true Reflection +upon the Mixture of Good and Ill of his past Life. For the Remembrance +even of the pleasantest Part of it is commonly attended with Shame, and +Sting of Conscience, insomuch that the Memory of past Delights is more +painful to us, than that of past Misfortunes. Therefore it was wisely +done of the ancient Poets in the Fable of _Lethe_, to represent the Dead +drinking largely of the Waters of Forgetfulness, before their Souls were +affected with any Desire of the Bodies they had left behind them. + +_Ur._ It is a Thing well worthy of our Admiration, and what I myself +have observ'd in some Persons. But that in _Cato_ that pleases me the +most is his Declaration. _Neither am I sorry that I have liv'd._ Where +is the _Christian_, that has so led his Life, as to be able to say as +much as this old Man? It is a common Thing for Men, who have scrap'd +great Estates together by Hook or by Crook, when they are upon their +Death Beds, and about to leave them, then to think they have not liv'd +in vain. But _Cato_ therefore thought, that he had not liv'd in vain, +upon the Conscience of his having discharg'd all the Parts of an honest +and useful Citizen, and an uncorrupted Magistrate; and that he should +leave to Posterity, Monuments of his Virtue and Industry. And what could +be spoken more divinely than this, _I depart as from an Inn, and not an +Habitation_. So long we may stay in an Inn till the Host bids us be +gone, but a Man will not easily be forc'd from his own House. And yet +from hence the Fall of the House, or Fire, or some Accident drives us. +Or if nothing of these happen, the Structure falls to Pieces with old +Age, thereby admonishing us that we must change our Quarters. + +_Neph._ That Expression of _Socrates_ in _Plato_ is not less elegant: +_Methinks_, says he, _the Soul of a Man is in the Body as in a +Garrison, there is no quitting of it without the Leave of the Generals, +nor no staying any longer in it, than during the Pleasure of him that +plac'd him there._ This Allusion of _Plato'_s, of a Garrison instead of +a House, is the more significant of the two. For in a House is only +imply'd Abode, in a Garrison we are appointed to some Duty by our +Governor. And much to the same Purpose is it, that in Holy Writ the Life +of Man is sometimes call'd a Warfare, and at other times a Race. + +_Ur._ But _Cato_'s Speech, methinks, seems to agree very well with that +of St. _Paul_, who writing to the _Corinthians_, calls that heavenly +Mansion, which we look for after this Life in one Place [Greek: oikian] +a House, in another [Greek: oiketerion] a Mansion, and moreover (besides +that) he calls the Body [Greek: skenos] a Tabernacle. For _we also_, +(says he) _who are in this Tabernacle, groan, being burthened._ + +_Neph._ Much after this Manner says St. _Peter; And I think it meet_ +(says he) _as long as I am in this Tabernacle, to stir you up by putting +you in Mind, being assured that I shall shortly put off this +Tabernacle._ And what else does _Christ_ himself say to us, but that we +should live and watch, as if we were presently to die: And so apply +ourselves to honest Things, as if we were to live for ever? And when we +hear these excellent Words of _Cato, O that glorious Day_, do we not +seem to hear St. _Paul_ himself saying, _I desire to be dissolved, and +to be with Christ_? + +_Ch._ How happy are they that wait for Death with such a Frame of Mind? +But as for _Cato_'s Speech, altho' it be an excellent one, methinks +there is more Boldness and Arrogance in it, than becomes a Christian. +Indeed, I never read anything in a Heathen, that comes nearer to a +Christian, than what _Socrates_ said to _Crito_, a little before he +drank his Poison; _Whether I shall be approv'd or not in the Sight of +God, I cannot tell; but this I am certain of, that I have most +affectionately endeavoured to please him; and I have a good Hope, that +he will accept of my Endeavours._ This great Man was diffident of his +own Performances; but so, that being conscious to himself of the +Propensity of his Inclination to obey the divine Will, he conceived a +good Hope, that God, of his Goodness, would accept him for the Honesty +of his Intentions. + +_Neph._ Indeed, it was a wonderful Elevation of Mind in a Man, that knew +not Christ, nor the holy Scriptures: And therefore, I can scarce +forbear, when I read such Things of such Men, but cry out, _Sancte +Socrates, ora pro nobis; Saint_ Socrates, _pray for us._ + +_Ch._ And I have much ado sometimes to keep myself from entertaining +good Hopes of the Souls of _Virgil_ and _Horace._ + +_Neph._ But how unwillingly have I seen many Christians die? Some put +their Trust in Things not to be confided in; others breathe out their +Souls in Desperation, either out of a Consciousness of their lewd Lives, +or by Reason of Scruples that have been injected into their Minds, even +in their dying Hours, by some indiscreet Men. + +_Ch._ It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent their Time in +philosophizing about Ceremonies all their Lives. + +_Neph._ What do you mean by Ceremonies? + +_Ch._ I'll tell you, but with Protestation over and over beforehand, +that I don't find Fault with the Sacraments and Rites of the Church, but +rather highly approve of them; but I blame a wicked and superstitious +Sort of People, or (to put it in the softest Term) the simple and +unlearned Persons, who teach People to put their Confidence in these +Things, omitting those Things which make them truly Christians. + +_Neph._ I don't yet clearly understand what it is you aim at. + +_Ch._ I'll be plainer then. If you look into Christians in common, don't +you find they live as if the whole Sum of Religion consisted in +Ceremonies? With how much Pomp are the antient Rites of the Church set +forth in Baptism? The Infant waits without the Church Door, the Exorcism +is performed, the Catechizing is performed, Vows are made, Satan is +abjured, with all his Pomps and Pleasures; then the Child is anointed, +sign'd, season'd with Salt, dipt, a Charge given to his Sureties to see +it well brought up; and the Oblation-Money being paid, they are +discharged, and by this Time the Child passes for a Christian, and in +some Sense is so. A little Time after, it is anointed again, and in Time +learns to confess, receives the Sacrament, is accustom'd to rest upon +Holy-Days, to hear Divine Service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from +Flesh; and if he observes all these, he passes for an absolute +Christian. He marries a Wife, and then comes on another Sacrament; he +enters into Holy Orders, is anointed again, and consecrated, his Habit +is chang'd, and then to Prayers. Now I approve of the doing of all this +well enough; but the doing of them more out of Custom than Conscience, I +don't approve; but to think that nothing else is requisite for the +making a Christian, I absolutely disapprove: For the greatest Part of +Men in the World trust to these Things, and think they have nothing else +to do, but get Wealth by Right or Wrong, to gratify their Passions of +Rage, Lust, Malice, Ambition: And this they do till they come upon their +Death Bed; and then there follows more Ceremonies; Confession upon +Confession, more Unction still, the Eucharist is administred; Tapers, +the Cross, holy Water are brought in; Indulgencies are procured, if they +are to be had for Love or Money; Orders are given for a magnificent +Funeral; and then comes on another solemn Contract: When the Man is in +the Agony of Death, there's one stands by bawling in his Ear, and now +and then dispatches him before his Time, if he chance to be a little in +Drink, or have better Lungs than ordinary. Now although these Things may +be well enough, as they are done in Conformity to ecclesiastical +Customs; yet there are some more internal Impressions, which have an +Efficacy to fortify us against the Assaults of Death, by filling our +Hearts with Joy, and helping us to go out of the World with a Christian +Assurance. + +_Eu._ You speak very piously and truly; but in the mean Time here is no +Body eats; I told you before, that you must expect nothing after the +second Course, and that a Country one too, lest any Body should look for +Pheasants, Moorhens, and fine Kickshaws. Here, Boy! take away these +Things, and bring up the rest. You see, not the Affluence, but the +Straitness of my Fortune. This is the Product of my Gardens you have +seen; don't spare, if you like any Thing. + +_Ti._ There's so great a Variety, it does a Man good to look upon it. + +_Eu._ That you mayn't altogether despise my Thriftiness, this Dish would +have chear'd up the Heart of old _Hilarion_, the evangelical Monk, with +a hundred more of his Fellows, the Monks of that Age. But _Paul_ and +_Anthony_ would have lived a Month upon it. + +_Ti._ Yes, and Prince _Peter_ too, I fancy would have leap'd at it, when +he lodg'd at _Simon_ the Tanner's. + +_Eu._ Yes; and _Paul_ too, I believe, when by Reason of Poverty he sat +up a-Nights to make Tents. + +_Ti._ How much do we owe to the Goodness of God! But yet, I had rather +suffer Hunger with _Peter_ and _Paul_, upon Condition, that what I +wanted for my Body, might be made up by the Satisfaction of my Mind. + +_Eu._ Let us learn of St. _Paul_, both how to abound, and how to suffer +Want. When we want, let us praise God, that he has afforded us Matter to +exercise our Frugality and Patience upon: When we abound, let us be +thankful for his Munificence, who by his Liberality, invites and +provokes us to love him; and using those Things the divine Bounty has +plentifully bestowed upon us, with Moderation and Temperance; let us be +mindful of the Poor, whom God has been pleas'd to suffer to want what he +has made abound to us, that neither Side may want an Occasion of +exercising Virtue: For he bestows upon us sufficient for the Relief of +our Brother's Necessity, that we may obtain his Mercy, and that the Poor +on the other Hand, being refresh'd by our Liberality, may give him +Thanks for putting it into our Hearts, and recommend us to him in their +Prayers; and, very well remember'd! Come hither, Boy; bid my Wife send +_Gudula_ some of the roast Meat that's left, 'tis a very good poor Woman +in the Neighbourhood big with Child, her Husband is lately dead, a +profuse, lazy Fellow, that has left nothing but a Stock of Children. + +_Ti._ Christ has commanded _to give to every one that asks_; but if I +should do so, I should go a begging myself in a Month's Time. + +_Eu._ I suppose Christ means only such as ask for Necessaries: For to +them who ask, nay, who importune, or rather extort great Sums from +People to furnish voluptuous Entertainments, or, which is worse, to feed +Luxury and Lust, it is Charity to deny; nay, it is a Kind of Rapine to +bestow that which we owe to the present Necessity of our Neighbours, +upon those that will abuse it; upon this Consideration it is, that it +seems to me, that they can scarcely be excus'd from being guilty of a +mortal Sin, who at a prodigious Expence, either build or beautify +Monasteries or Churches, when in the mean Time so many living Temples of +Christ are ready to starve for Want of Food and Clothing, and are sadly +afflicted with the Want of other Necessaries. When I was in _England_, I +saw St. _Thomas_'s, Tomb all over bedeck'd with a vast Number of Jewels +of an immense Price, besides other rich Furniture, even to Admiration; I +had rather that these Superfluities should be apply'd to charitable +Uses, than to be reserv'd for Princes, that shall one Time or other make +a Booty of them. The holy Man, I am confident, would have been better +pleas'd, to have his Tomb adorn'd with Leaves and Flowers. When I was in +_Lombardy_, I saw a Cloyster of the _Carthusians_, not far from _Pavia_; +the Chapel is built from Top to Bottom, within and without, of white +Marble, and almost all that is in it, as Altars, Pillars, and Tombs, are +all Marble. To what Purpose was it to be at such a vast Expence upon a +Marble Temple, for a few solitary Monks to sing in? And 'tis more +Burthen to them than Use too, for they are perpetually troubled with +Strangers, that come thither, only out of mere Curiosity, to see the +Marble Temple. And that, which is yet more ridiculous, I was told there, +that there is an Endowment of three thousand Ducats a Year for keeping +the Monastery in Repair. And there are some that think that it is +Sacrilege, to convert a Penny of that Money to any other pious Uses, +contrary to the Intention of the Testator; they had rather pull down, +that they may rebuild, than not go on with building. I thought meet to +mention these, being something more remarkable than ordinary; tho' we +have a World of Instances of this Kind up and down in our Churches. +This, in my Opinion, is rather Ambition than Charity. Rich Men +now-a-Days will have their Monuments in Churches, whereas in Times past +they could hardly get Room for the Saints there: They must have their +Images there, and their Pictures, forsooth, with their Names at length, +their Titles, and the Inscription of their Donation; and this takes up a +considerable Part of the Church; and I believe in Time they'll be for +having their Corpse laid even in the very Altars themselves. But +perhaps, some will say, would you have their Munificence be discourag'd? +I say no, by no Means, provided what they offer to the Temple of God be +worthy of it. But if I were a Priest or a Bishop, I would put it into +the Heads of those thick-scull'd Courtiers or Merchants, that if they +would atone for their Sins to Almighty God, they should privately bestow +their Liberality upon the Relief of the Poor. But they reckon all as +lost, that goes out so by Piece-meal, and is privily distributed toward +the Succour of the Needy, that the next Age shall have no Memorial of +the Bounty. But I think no Money can be better bestow'd, than that which +Christ himself would have put to his Account, and makes himself Debtor +for. + +_Ti._ Don't you take that Bounty to be well plac'd that is bestow'd upon +Monasteries? + +_Eu._ Yes, and I would be a Benefactor myself, if I had an Estate that +would allow it; but it should be such a Provision for Necessaries, as +should not reach to Luxury. And I would give something too, wheresoever +I found a religious Man that wanted it. + +_Ti._ Many are of Opinion, that what is given to common Beggars, is not +well bestowed. + +_Eu._ I would do something that Way too; but with Discretion: But in my +Opinion, it were better if every City were to maintain their own Poor; +and Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars were not suffer'd to strole about, who +want Work more than Money. + +_Ti._ To whom then would you in an especial Manner give? How much? And +to what Purposes? + +_Eu._ It is a hard Matter for me to answer to all these Points exactly: +First of all, there should be an Inclination to be helpful to all, and +after that, the Proportion must be according to my Ability, as +Opportunity should offer; and especially to those whom I know to be poor +and honest; and when my own Purse fail'd me, I would exhort others to +Charity. + +_Ti._ But will you give us Leave now to discourse freely in your +Dominions? + +_Eu._ As freely as if you were at Home at your own Houses. + +_Ti._ You don't love vast Expences upon Churches, you say, and this +House might have been built for less than it was. + +_Eu._ Indeed, I think this House of mine to be within the Compass of +cleanly and convenient, far from Luxury, or I am mistaken. Some that +live by begging, have built with more State; and yet, these Gardens of +Mine, such as they are, pay a Tribute to the Poor; and I daily lessen my +Expence, and am the more frugal in Expence upon myself and Family, that +I may contribute the more plentifully to them. + +_Ti._ If all Men were of your Mind, it would be better than it is with a +good many People who deserve better, that are now in extreme Want; and +on the other Hand, many of those pamper'd Carcases would be brought +down, who deserve to be taught Sobriety and Modesty by Penury. + +_Eu._ It may be so: but shall I mend your mean Entertainment now, with +the best Bit at last? + +_Ti._ We have had more than enough of Delicacies already. + +_Eu._ That which I am now about to give you, let your Bellies be never +so full, won't over-charge your Stomachs. + +_Ti._ What is it? + +_Eu._ The Book of the four Evangelists, that I may treat you with the +best at last. Read, Boy, from the Place where you left off last. + +_Boy. No Man can serve two Masters; for either he will hate the one and +love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other: +You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore, I say unto you, take no +thought for your Life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink: Nor +yet for your Body, what you shall put on. Is not the Life more than +Meat, and the Body than Raiment?_ + +_Eu._ Give me the Book. In this Place _Jesus Christ_ seems to me, to +have said the same Thing twice: For instead of what he had said in the +first Place, _i.e._ _he will hate_; he says immediately, _he will +despise_. And for what he had said before, _he will love_, he by and by +turns it, _he will hold to_. The Sense is the same, tho' the Persons are +chang'd. + +_Ti._ I do not very well apprehend what you mean. + +_Eu._ Let me, if you please, demonstrate it mathematically. In the first +Part, put _A_ for the one, and _B_ for the other. In the latter Part, +put _B_ for one, and _A_ for the other, inverting the Order; for either +_A_ will hate, and _B_ will love, or _B_ will hold to, and _A_ will +despise. Is it not plain now, that _A_ is twice hated, and _B_ twice +beloved? + +_Ti._ 'Tis very clear. + +_Eu._ This Conjunction, _or_, especially repeated, has the Emphasis of a +contrary, or at least, a different Meaning. Would it not be otherwise +absurd to say, _Either_ Peter _shall overcome me, and I'll yield; or +I'll yield, and_ Peter _shall overcome me?_ + +_Ti._ A pretty Sophism, as I'm an honest Man. + +_Eu._ I shall think it so when you have made it out, not before. + +_The._ I have something runs in my Mind, and I'm with Child to have it +out: I can't tell what to make on't, but let it be what it will, you +shall have it if you please; if it be a Dream, you shall be the +Interpreters, or midwife it into the World. + +_Eu._ Although it is looked upon to be unlucky to talk of Dreams at +Table, and it is immodest to bring forth before so many Men; but this +Dream, or this Conception of thy Mind, be it what it will, let us have +it. + +_The._ In my Judgment it is rather the Thing than the Person that is +chang'd in this Text. And the Words _one_ and _one_ do not refer to _A_ +and _B_; but either Part of them, to which of the other you please; so +that chuse which you will, it must be opposed to that, which is +signified by the other; as if you should say, you _shall either exclude_ +A _and admit_ B, _or you shall admit_ A _and exclude_ B. Here's the +Thing chang'd, and the Person the same: And it is so spoken of _A_, that +it is the same Case, if you should say the same Thing of _B_; as thus, +either you shall exclude _B_ or admit _A_, or admit _B_ or exclude _A_. + +_Eu._ In Truth, you have very artificially solv'd this Problem: No +Mathematician could have demonstrated it better upon a Slate. + +_Soph._ That which is the greatest Difficulty to me is this; that we are +forbidden to take Thought for to Morrow; when yet, _Paul_ himself +wrought with his own Hands for Bread, and sharply rebukes lazy People, +and those that live upon other Men's Labour, exhorting them to take +Pains, and get their Living by their Fingers Ends, that they may have +wherewith to relieve others in their Necessities. Are not they holy and +warrantable Labours, by which a poor Husband provides for his dear Wife +and Children? + +_Ti._ This is a Question, which, in my Opinion, may be resolv'd several +Ways. First of all, This Text had a particular Respect to those Times. +The Apostles being dispers'd far and wide for the Preaching of the +Gospel, all sollicitous Care for a Maintenance was to be thrown aside, +it being to be supply'd otherwise, having not Leisure to get their +Living by their Labour; and especially, they having no Way of getting +it, but by Fishing. But now the World is come to another Pass, and we +all love to live at Ease, and shun Painstaking. Another Way of +expounding it may be this; Christ had not forbid Industry, but Anxiety +of Thought, and this Anxiety of Thought is to be understood according to +the Temper of Men in common, who are anxious for nothing more than +getting a Livelihood; that setting all other Things aside, this is the +only Thing they mind. And our Saviour does in a Manner intimate the same +himself, when he says, that one Man cannot serve two Masters. For he +that wholly gives himself up to any Thing, is a Servant to it. Now he +would have the Propagation of the Gospel be our chief, but yet, not our +only Care. For he says, _Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and these +Things shall be added unto you_. He does not say, seek only; but seek +first. And besides, I take the Word to Morrow, to be hyperbolical, and +in that, signifies a Time to come, a great While hence, it being the +Custom of the Misers of this World, to be anxiously scraping together, +and laying up for Posterity. + +_Eu._ We allow of your Interpretation; but what does he mean, when he +says, _Be not sollicitous for your Life, what you shall eat_? The Body +is cloth'd, but the Soul does not eat. + +_Ti._ By _Anima_, is meant Life, which can't subsist without Meat (or is +in Danger, if you take away its Food): But it is not so, if you take +away the Garment, which is more for Modesty than Necessity. If a Person +is forc'd to go naked, he does not die presently; but Want of Food is +certain Death. + +_Eu._ I do not well understand how this Sentence agrees with that which +follows; _Is not the Life more than Meat, and the Body than Raiment_? +For if Life be so precious, we ought to take the more Care of it. + +_Ti._ This Argument does rather increase our Sollicitousness than lessen +it. + +_Eu._ But this is none of our Saviour's Meaning; who, by this Argument, +creates in us a stronger Confidence in the Father: For if a bountiful +Father hath given us _gratis_ that which is the more valuable, he will +also bestow upon us what is less valuable: He that has given us Life, +will not deny us Food: And he that has given us Bodies, will by some +Means or other give us Cloaths too: Therefore, relying upon his Bounty, +we have no Reason to disquiet ourselves with Anxiety of Thought, for +Things of smaller Moment. What remains then, but using this World, as +though we used it not, we transfer our whole Study and Application to +the Love of heavenly Things, and rejecting the World and the Devil +universally, with all his crafty Delusions, we chearfully serve God +alone, who will never forsake his Children? But all this While, here's +no Body touches the Fruits. Certainly you may eat this with Joy, for +this is the Product of my own Farm, and did not cost much Care to +provide it. + +_Ti._ We have very plentifully satisfied our Bodies. + +_Eu._ I should be glad if you had satisfied your Minds too. + +_Ti._ Our Minds have been satisfy'd more plentifully than our Bodies. + +_Eu._ Boy, take away, and bring some Water; now, my Friends, let us +wash, that if we have in eating contracted any Guilt, being cleansed, we +may conclude with a Hymn: If you please, I'll conclude with what I begun +out of St. _Chrysostom_. + +_Ti._ We entreat you that you would do it. + +_Eu. Glory to thee, O Lord; Glory to thee, O holy One; Glory to thee, O +King; as thou hast given us Meat for our Bodies, so replenish our Souls +with Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be found +acceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shalt +render to every one according to his Works_. + +Boy. _Amen_. + +_Ti._ In Truth, it is a pious and elegant Hymn. + +_Eu._ Of St. _Chrysostom_'s Translation too. + +_Ti._ Where is it to be found? + +_Eu._ In his 56th Homily on St. _Matthew_. + +_Ti._ I'll be sure to read it to Day: But I have a Mind to be informed +of one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these three +Denominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_. + +_Eu._ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these three +Respects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holy +Blood from the Tyranny of the Devil, and hath taken us to himself. +Secondly, We stile him Holy, because he being the Sanctifier of all Men, +not being content alone to have freely pardoned us all our Sins _gratis_ +by his holy Spirit, hath bestow'd upon us his Righteousness, that we +might follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for the +Reward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of God +the Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, that +we have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be a +Tyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of the +Filth and Uncleanness of our Sins; and instead of the Torments of Hell, +the Joys of Life everlasting. + +_Ti._ Indeed it is a very pious Sentence. + +_Eu._ This is your first Visit, Gentlemen, and I must not dismiss you +without Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been. +Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will draw +Lots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that is +to say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, a +hundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are four +little Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will be +more agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses. + +_Ti._ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but do +you distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come the +welcomer where they fall. + +_Eu._ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, it +teaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom. +This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to the +Doctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be given +and abound. + +_Ti._ I will be sure to make it my Study, to stand in less Need of it. + +_Eu. Sophronius_, this Dial will suit you very well, whom I know to be +so good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of that +precious Thing be lost. It came out of the furthest Part of _Dalmatia_, +and that's all the Commendation I shall give it. + +_Sophr._ You indeed admonish a Sluggard to be diligent. + +_Eu._ You have in this little Book the Gospel written on Vellum; it +deserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were a +fitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may be +more and more like to your Name. + +_The._ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present ill +bestow'd. + +_Eu._ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions, +_Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in your +Mouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: And +now for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in your +Hand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into the +Bargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel. + +_Eu._ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiable +Reader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books. + +_Ch._ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and in +the next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance. + +_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and to +excellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, by +which the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, and +that by such an Artist. + +_The._ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as you +have with Instruments. + +_Eu._ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books of +Morals, and very fairly written by one very well skill'd in the _Greek_; +I find in them so much Purity of Thought, that it is my Amazement, how +such evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This I +will present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_ +Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as a +thrifty Dispenser of his Time. + +_Neph._ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but your +Compliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, as +Panegyricks. + +_Eu._ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these small +Matters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'd +by your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment may +have upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiser +and better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, and +much less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hour +in seeing the rest of the Curiosities of my little Palace. + +_Ti._ That's the very Thing we were about to desire of you. + +_Eu._ There is no Need of entreating a Man of his Word. I believe you +have seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; and +which Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Green +before you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by putting +down the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun is +incommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thin +ones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in my +Garden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and their +Flowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviour +celebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ a +keeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'd +in the Gospel, in the Height of his Luxury, by and by sinking into Hell. +And here is _Lazarus_, driven away from his Doors, by and by to be +receiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom. + +_Ti._ We don't very well know this Story. + +_Eu._ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be most +luxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth her +Hand for the other. Here is the Battel of the _Centaurs_; and here +_Alexander_ the Great thrusts his Launce through the Body of _Clytus_. +These Examples preach Sobriety to us at Table, and deter a Man from +Gluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'd +with very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones. + +_Ti._ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is so +shining. + +_Eu._ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing at +the Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Piece +of Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully for +the Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospect +of the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions of +it describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have the +Pictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Painting +them all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, and +stretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice, +saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in a +Glory, embracing him. + +_Ti._ As God shall bless me, a Piece of Work worthy of _Apelles_. + +_Eu._ Adjoining to the Library, there is a little Study, but a very neat +one; and 'tis but removing a Picture, and there is a Chimney behind it, +if the Cold be troublesome. In Summer-Time it passes for solid Wall. + +_Ti._ Every Thing here looks like Jewels; and here's a wonderful pretty +Scent. + +_Eu._ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and both +these may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery that +looks into the Garden, and there is a Chapel adjoining to it. + +_Ti._ The Place itself deserves a Deity. + +_Eu._ Let us go now to those three Walks above the other that you have +seen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have a +Prospect into both Gardens; but only by Windows with Shutters; +especially, in the Walls that have no Prospect into the inner Garden, +and that's for the Safety of the House. Here upon the Left-Hand, because +there is more Light, and fewer Windows, is painted the whole Life of +_Jesus_, out of the History of the four Evangelists, as far as to the +Mission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles out +of the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator may +see near what Lake, or upon what Mountain such or such a Thing was done. +There are also Titles to every Story, with an Abstract of the Contents, +as that of our Saviour, _I will, Be thou clean_. Over against it you +have the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out of +the Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christ +and Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursing +with myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, in +giving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears me +Company, or sometimes a Friend that takes Delight in pious Things. + +_Ti._ Who could be tired with this House? + +_Eu._ No Body that has learn'd to live by himself. Upon the upper Border +(as though not fit to be among the rest) are all the Popes Heads with +their Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Caesars_, for the +better taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is a +Lodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of my +Orchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow, +is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and I +make Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, with +any infectious Disease. + +_Ti._ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to be +avoided. + +_Eu._ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this the +less, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that a +Basilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would not +stick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, is +Rashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wife +shall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and make +my House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a little +Business abroad: I must ride out to some of the Neighbouring Towns. + +_Ti._ What, a Money Business? + +_Eu._ I would not leave such Friends for the Sake of receiving a little +Money. + +_Ti._ Perhaps you have appointed a hunting Match. + +_Eu._ It is a Kind of Hunting indeed, but it is something else I hunt, +than either Boars or Stags. + +_Ti._ What is it then? + +_Eu._ I'll tell you: I have a Friend in one Town lies dangerously ill; +the Physician fears his Life, but I am afraid of his Soul: For I don't +think he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'll +go and give him some pious Admonitions that he may be the better for, +whether he lives or dies. In another Town there are two Men bitterly at +odds, they are no ill Men neither, but Men of a very obstinate Temper. +If the Matter should rise to a greater Height, I am afraid it would be +of ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in the +World, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my hunting +Match, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink their +Healths. + +_Ti._ A very pious Hunting, indeed; we pray heartily, that not _Delia_ +but _Christ_ would give you good Success. + +_Eu._ I had rather obtain this Prey, than have two thousand Ducats left +me for a Legacy. + +_Ti._ Will you come back quickly? + +_Eu._ Not till I have try'd every Thing; therefore, I can't set a Time. +In the mean Time, be as free with any Thing of mine, as though it were +your own, and enjoy yourselves. + +_Ti._ God be with you, forward and backward. + + + + +_The APOTHEOSIS of CAPNIO._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _Canonizing, or entring the incomparable Man_, John + Reuclin, _into the Number of the Saints, teaches how much + Honour is due to famous Men, who have by their Industry + improv'd the liberal Sciences_. + + +None that has liv'd Well, dies Ill. + +POMPILIUS, BRASSICANUS. + +_Po._ Where have you been, with your Spatter-Lashes? + +_Br._ At _Tubinga_. + +_Po._ Is there no News there? + +_Br._ I can't but admire, that the World should run so strangely a +gadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we should +have nothing to do with any Thing that is new. + +_Po._ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be a +Man,) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always to +feed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine. + +_Br._ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love old +Things so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh than +stale. + +_Po._ No more of the Camel; but prithee tell me, what News have you? + +_Br._ Nay, I have News in my Budget too; but News which he says is +naught. + +_Po._ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Things +be good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence, +that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and that +which is now bad, will in Time come to be good. + +_Br._ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; and +therefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool in +Time past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he is +grown old. + +Po. But prithee, let's have the News, be it what it will. + +_Br._ The famous triple-tongu'd Phoenix of Learning, _John Reuclin_, is +departed this Life. + +_Po._ For certain? + +_Br._ Nay, it is too certain. + +_Po._ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortal +Memory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of this +miserable World, into the Society of the Blessed? + +_Br._ How do you know that to be the Case? + +_Po._ It is plain, for he can't die otherwise, who has liv'd as he did. + +_Br._ You would say so, indeed, if you knew what I know. + +_Po._ What's that, I pray? + +_Br._ No, no, I must not tell you. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Br._ Because he that entrusted me with the Secret, made me promise +Silence. + +_Po._ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon my +honest Word, I'll keep Counsel. + +_Br._ That honest Word has often deceived me; but however, I'll venture; +especially, it being a Matter of that Kind, that it is fit all honest +Men should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Man +accounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own. + +_Po._ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of true +Piety. + +_Br._ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know the +Man. + +_Po._ What if I shall guess at him? + +_Br._ Do, if you will. + +_Po._ Hold your Ear then. + +_Br._ What needs that, when here's no Body within Hearing? + +_Po._ But however, for Fashion Sake. + +_Br._ 'Tis the very same. + +_Po._ He is a Man of undoubted Credit. If he says a Thing, it is to me, +as true as the Gospel. + +_Br._ Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked Truth of the Story. My +Friend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there was +some Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, be +sick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he might +ease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend was +sick, I was sick too, for I lov'd him as my own Father. + +_Po._ Phoo! There's no Body but lov'd him, except he were a very bad Man +indeed. + +_Br._ My Franciscan says to me, _Brassicanus_, leave off grieving, our +_Reuclin_ is well. What, said I, Is he well all on a sudden then? For +but two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, says +he, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don't +weep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before you +have heard the Matter out. I have not indeed seen the Man this six Days, +but I pray for him constantly every Day that goes over my Head. This +Morning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into a +gentle pleasant Slumber. + +_Po._ My Mind presages some joyful Thing. + +_Br._ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standing +by a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; the +emerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charming +Prospect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like little +Stars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all the +Fields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was divided +from the rest, seem'd neither to grow, nor to be green; but look'd dead, +blasted, and withered. And in the Interim, while I was wholly taken up +with the Prospect, _Reuclin_, as good Luck would have it, came by; and +as he past by, gave me his Blessing in _Hebrew_. He was gotten half Way +over the Bridge before I perceived him, and as I was about to run to +him, he look'd back, and bid me keep off. You must not come yet, says +he, but five Years hence, you shall follow me. In the mean Time, do you +stand by a Spectator, and a Witness of what is done. Here I put in a +Word, says I, was _Reuclin_ naked, or had he Cloaths on; was he alone, +or had he Company? He had, says he, but one Garment, and that was a very +white one; you would have said, it had been a Damask, of a wonderful +shining White, and a very pretty Boy with Wings followed him, which I +took to be his good Genius. + +_Po._ But had he no evil Genius with him? + +_Br._ Yes, the Franciscan told me he thought he had. For there followed +him a great Way off, some Birds, that were all over Black, except, that +when they spread their Wings, they seem'd to have Feathers, of a Mixture +of White and Carnation. He said, that by their Colour and Cry, one might +have taken them for Magpies, but that they were sixteen Times as big; +about the size of Vultures, having Combs upon their Heads, with crooked +Beaks and Gorbellies. If there had been but three of them, one would +have taken them for Harpyes. + +_Po._ And what did these Devils attempt to do? + +_Br._ They kept at a Distance, chattering and squalling at the Hero +_Reuclin_, and were ready to set upon him, if they durst. + +_Po._ What hindred them? + +_Br._ Turning upon them, and making the Sign of the Cross with his Hand +at them, he said, _Be gone, ye cursed Fiends to a Place that's fitter +for you. You have Work enough to do among Mortals, your Madness has no +Power over me, that am now lifted in the Roll of Immortality._ The +Words were no sooner out of his Mouth, says the Franciscan, but these +filthy Birds took their Flight, but left such a Stink behind them, that +a House of Office would have seem'd Oyl of sweet Marjoram, or Ointment +of Spikenard to it. He swore, he had rather go to Hell, than snuff up +such a Perfume again. + +_Po._ A Curse upon these Pests. + +_Br._ But, hear what the Franciscan told me besides: While I was intent +upon these Things, says he, St. _Jerome_ was come close to the Bridge, +and saluted _Reuclin_ in these Words, _God save thee, my most holy +Companion, I am ordered to conduct thee to the Mansions of the blessed +Souls above, which the divine Bounty has appointed thee as a Reward for +thy most pious Labours._ With that he took out a Garment, and put it +upon _Reuclin_. Then, said I, tell me in what Habit or Form St. _Jerome_ +appear'd, was he so old as they paint him? Did he wear a Cowl or a Hat, +or the Garb of a Cardinal? Or had he a Lion by his Side? Nothing of all +these, said he; but his Person was comely, which made his Age appear +such as carried in it much Comeliness, but no Deformity. What Need had +he to have a Lion by his Side, as he is commonly painted? His Gown came +down to his Heels, as transparent as Crystal, and of the same Fashion of +that he gave to _Reuclin_. It was all over painted with Tongues of three +several Colours; some imitated Rubies, some Emeralds, and others +Sapphires; and beside the Clearness of it, the Order set it off very +much. + +_Po._ An Intimation, I suppose, of the three Tongues that he profess'd. + +_Br._ Without doubt: For he said, that upon the very Borders of the +Garments were the Characters of these three Languages inscrib'd in their +different Colours. + +_Po._ Had _Jerome_ no Company with him? + +_Br._ No Company, do you say? The whole Field swarm'd with Myriads of +Angels, that fill'd the Air as thick, as those little Corpuscles they +call Atoms, fly in the Sun Beams; pardon the Meanness of the Comparison. +If they had not been as transparent as Glass, there would have been no +Heaven nor Earth to have been seen. + +_Po._ O brave, I am glad with all my Heart, for _Reuclin_'s, Sake; but +what follow'd? + +_Br. Jerome_, (says he) for Honour's Sake, giving _Reuclin_ the +Right-Hand, and embracing him, conducts him into the Meadow, and up a +Hill that was in the middle of it, where they kiss'd and embrac'd one +another again: In the mean Time, the Heavens open'd over their Heads to +a prodigious Wideness, and there appear'd a Glory so unutterable, as +made every Thing else, that pass'd for wonderful before, to look mean +and sordid. + +_Po._ Can't you give us some Representation of it? + +Br. No, how should I, that did not see it? He who did see it, says, that +he was not able to express the very Dream of it. He said, he would die a +thousand Deaths to see it over again, if it were but for one Moment. + +_Po._ How then? + +_Br._ Out of this Overture of the Heavens, there was let down a great +Pillar of Fire that was transparent, and of a very pleasant Form: By +this the two holy Souls were carried into Heaven, in one anothers +Embraces; a Choir of Angels all the While accompanying them, with so +charming a Melody, that the Franciscan says, he is never able to think +of the Delight of it without weeping. And after this there follow'd a +wonderful fragrant Smell. When he waked out of his Dream, if you will +call it a Dream, he was just like a mad Man. He would not believe he was +in his Cell; he called for his Bridge and his Meadow; he could not speak +or think of any Thing else but them. The Seniors of the Convent, when +they found the Story to be no Fable, for it is certain that _Reuclin_ +dy'd at the very Instant that the holy Man had this Vision, they +unanimously gave Thanks to God, that abundantly rewards good Men for +their good Deeds. + +_Po._ What have we to do, but to set down this holy Man's Name in the +Calendar of Saints? + +_Br._ I should have done that if the Franciscan had seen nothing at all +of this, and in Gold Letters too, I'll assure you, next to St. _Jerome_ +himself. + +_Po._ And let me die if I don't put him down in my Book so too. + +_Br._ And besides that, I'll set him in Gold in my little Chapel, among +the choicest of my Saints. + +_Po._ And if I had a Fortune to my Mind, I'd have him in Diamonds. + +_Br._ He shall stand in my Library, the very next to St. _Jerome_. + +_Po._ And I'll have him in mine too. + +_Br._ If they were grateful, every one who loves Learning and Languages, +especially, the holy Tongues, would do so too. + +_Po._ Truly it is no more than he deserves. But han't you some Scruple +upon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authority +of the Bishop of _Rome_? + +_Br._ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Who +canoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory is +most sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, and +the Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselves +to the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was sainted +by _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City? + +_Po._ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will of +Heaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are always +sensibly felt. + +_Br._ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be a +Blessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments of +his Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality. +He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing with +St. _Jerome_ himself. + +_Po._ But he suffer'd a great Deal tho' in his Life. + +_Br._ But yet St. _Jerome_ suffered more. It is a Blessing to be +persecuted by wicked Men for being good. + +_Po._ I confess so, and St. _Jerome_ suffer'd many unworthy Things from +the worst of Men, for the best of Deeds. + +_Br._ That which Satan did formerly by the Scribes and Pharisees against +the Lord Jesus, he continues still to do by Pharisaical Men, against +good Men, who have deserved well from the World by their Studies. He now +reaps the blessed Harvest of the Seed he has been sowing. In the mean +Time, it will be our Duty, to preserve his Memory sacred; to honour his +Name, and to address him often in some such Manner as follows. _O holy +Soul, be thou propitious to Languages, and to those that cultivate them: +Favour the holy Tongues, and destroy evil Tongues that are infected with +the Poison of Hell._ + +_Po._ I'll do't myself, and earnestly persuade all my Friends to do it. +I make no Question but there will be those that will desire to have some +little Form of Prayer, according to Custom, to celebrate the Memory of +this most holy Hero. + +_Br._ Do you mean that which they call a Collect? + +_Po._ Yes. + +_Br._ I have one ready, that I provided before his Death. + +_Po._ I pray let's hear it. + +_Br. O God, that art the Lover of Mankind, that hast by thy chosen +Servant_ John Reuclin, _renew'd to Mankind the Gift of Tongues, by which +thy holy Spirit from above, did formerly furnish thy Apostles for their +Preaching the Gospel; grant that all thy People may every where, in all +Languages, preach the Glory of thy Son Jesus Christ, to the confounding +of the Tongues of false Apostles; who being in a Confederacy to uphold +the impious Tower of_ Babel, _endeavour to obscure thy Glory, and to +advance their own, when to thee alone, together with thy only Son Jesus +Christ our Lord, and the holy Spirit, is due all Glory to eternal Ages._ +Amen. + +_Po._ A most elegant and holy Prayer. As I live, it shall be mine daily. +And I account this a happy Opportunity, that has brought me to the +Knowledge of so joyful a Story. + +_Br._ Mayst thou long enjoy that Comfort, and so farewell. + +_Po._ Fare you well too. + +_Br._ I will fare well, but not be a Cook. + + + + +_A LOVER and MAIDEN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy presents you with a very chaste Wooing, + mingling many philosophical Notions with pleasant Jokes. + Of not being hasty in marrying; of chusing, not only for + the Sake of the outward Person, but the inward Endowments + of the Mind; of the Firmness of Wedlock; of not + contracting Matrimony without the Consent of Parents; of + living chastly in Matrimony; of bringing up Children + piously; that the Soul is not where it animates, but + where it loves. The Description of a deformed Man. That + Wedlock is to be preferr'd before a single Life, and is + not, as it is vulgarly called, a Halter. That we must not + consult our Affections so much as Reason._ + + +PAMPHILUS _and_ MARY. + +_PA._ Good Morrow, Madam, cruel, hard Heart, inflexible. + +_Ma._ Good Morrow to you too, Mr. _Pamphilus_, as often, and as much, +and by what Names you please: But you seem to have forgotten my Name, +'tis _Mary_. + +_Pa._ It should rather have been _Martia_. + +_Ma._ Why so, pray, what is _Mars_ to me? + +_Pa._ Because just as _Mars_ makes a Sport of killing Men, so do you; +saving that you do it the more cruelly of the two, because you kill one +that loves you. + +_Ma._ Say you so! pray where's the great Slaughter of Men that I have +made? Where's the Blood of the Slain? + +_Pa._ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon +me. + +_Ma._ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish +I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are. + +_Pa._ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor +me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For +now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death. + +_Ma._ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the +Sight of thee? + +_Pa._ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost. + +_Ma._ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe +Cherry, or purple Grape. + +_Pa._ You coquet it with my Misery. + +_Ma._ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass. + +_Pa._ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a +better in the World than I am a looking in already. + +_Ma._ What Looking-Glass do you mean? + +_Pa._ Your Eyes. + +_Ma._ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be +dead? Do dead Folks eat? + +_Pa._ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do. + +_Ma._ What do they feed upon? + +_Pa._ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines. + +_Ma._ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges. + +_Pa._ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or +Vinegar. + +_Ma._ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that. +And do dead Folks talk too? + +_Pa._ Just as I do, with a weak Voice. + +_Ma._ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your +Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths, +and sleep? + +_Pa._ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner. + +_Ma._ Thou art a merry Fellow. + +_Pa._ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that +I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however. + +_Pa._ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is +only a Separation of Soul and Body. + +_Ma._ I grant it. + +_Pa._ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words. + +_Ma._ No, I will not. + +_Pa._ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away +another's Life, is a Murtherer. + +_Ma._ I grant that too. + +_Pa._ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the +greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it +animates, but where it loves. + +_Ma._ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then. + +_Pa._ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it. + +_Ma._ I am a Maid, not a Stone. + +_Pa._ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone. + +_Ma._ Go on with your Inferences. + +_Pa._ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell, +nor feel, if you kill them outright. + +_Ma._ Indeed I have heard so. + +_Pa._ What do you think is the Reason? + +_Ma._ Do you, Philosopher, tell that. + +_Pa._ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly +loves; and therefore is absent from the Body. + +_Ma._ Well, what then? + +_Pa._ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead, +and you have killed me. + +_Ma._ Where is your Soul then? + +_Pa._ Where it loves. + +_Ma._ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me +freely: There's no Hurt in it. + +_Pa._ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me +outright. + +_Ma._ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from +her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb. + +_Pa._ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that +Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine +has into hers. + +_Ma._ But may I play the Sophister with you now? + +_Pa._ The Sophistress. + +_Ma._ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead? + +_Pa._ Not at the same Time. + +_Ma._ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it? + +_Pa._ No, it does not. + +_Ma._ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves, +it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it +loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates? + +_Pa._ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there. +That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but +improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul; +just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone. + +_Ma._ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me +this Question, does not the Person that kills, act? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And does not he suffer who is kill'd? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Ma._ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and +she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill, +when he that loves, rather kills himself? + +_Pa._ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is +lov'd, that acts. + +_Ma._ You will never prove that by all your Grammar. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then. + +_Ma._ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love +voluntarily, or against your Will? + +_Pa._ Voluntarily. + +_Ma._ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he +that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid +wrongfully. + +_Pa._ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He +is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save. + +_Ma._ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose +with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to +save the Lover? + +_Pa._ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to +love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be +a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too. + +_Ma._ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me? + +_Pa._ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog +or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead. + +_Ma._ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men? + +_Pa._ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes. + +_Ma._ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then. + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me. + +_Ma._ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw +others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe +the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine. + +_Pa._ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must +insult him too. + +_Ma._ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral? + +_Pa._ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me. + +_Ma._ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure? + +_Pa._ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease +imaginable. + +_Ma._ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir. + +_Pa._ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's +easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the +World get clear of the Crime of Murther. + +_Ma._ In what Court must I be try'd? In the Court of Chancery? + +_Pa._ No, in the Court of _Venus_. + +_Ma._ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess. + +_Pa._ Nay, the most severe in the World. + +_Ma._ Has she any Thunderbolts? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Trident? + +_Pa._ No. + +_Ma._ Has she got a Spear? + +_Pa._ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea. + +_Ma._ But I don't go to Sea. + +_Pa._ But she has a Son. + +_Ma._ Youth is not very formidable. + +_Pa._ But he is very revengeful and resolute. + +_Ma._ What will he do to me? + +_Pa._ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish +so well to. God forbid I should. + +_Ma._ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it. + +_Pa._ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am +no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by +his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall +deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you +again. + +_Ma._ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a +thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one +that won't love me neither. + +_Pa._ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain +Maid. + +_Ma._ Where did she live? + +_Pa._ At _Orleans_. + +_Ma._ How many Years ago was it? + +_Pa._ How many Years! not ten Months. + +_Ma._ What was her Name? What do you stick at? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you. + +_Ma._ Why don't you tell me her Name then? + +_Pa._ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some +other Name. She was your own Namesake. + +_Ma._ Who was her Father? + +_Pa._ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a +rich Man. + +_Ma._ Tell me his Name. + +_Pa. Mauritius._ + +_Ma._ His Sirname. + +_Pa. Aglaius._ + +_Ma._ Is her Mother alive? + +_Pa._ No, she died lately. + +_Ma._ What did she die of, say you? + +_Pa._ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life +too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution. + +_Ma._ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name. + +_Pa._ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by +that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye? + +_Ma._ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for +that. But tell me what became of the Maid? + +_Pa._ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a +good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a +Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her. + +_Ma._ What was his Name? + +_Pa._ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_ +as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good +Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with +Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape +than a Man. + +_Ma._ How! + +_Pa._ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it. + +_Ma._ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow? + +_Pa._ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd, +snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded, +hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow. + +_Ma._ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_. + +_Pa._ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither. + +_Ma._ It may be he had lost the other in the War. + +_Pa._ No, he lost it in Peace. + +_Ma._ Who dar'd to cut it off? + +_Pa. Jack Ketch._ + +_Ma._ It may be his Riches made Amends. + +_Pa._ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming +Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain. + +_Ma._ That is a miserable Story indeed. + +_Pa._ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for +slighting the young Gentleman. + +_Ma._ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure +such a Husband. + +_Pa._ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you. + +_Ma._ Well, if that will do, I do love you again. + +_Pa._ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a +Wife, not a Mistress. + +_Ma._ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which +being once done, can never be undone again. + +_Pa._ I have been deliberating too long already. + +_Ma._ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon +you, for they say he is blind. + +_Pa._ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment; +you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really +so, and therefore I love you. + +_Ma._ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on, +then you'll know where it pinches. + +_Pa._ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will +be happy for me. + +_Ma._ What, are you an Augur then? + +_Pa._ Yes, I am. + +_Ma._ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath +the Night Owl appear'd luckily? + +_Pa._ She flies for Fools. + +_Ma._ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand? + +_Pa._ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the +Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad +Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been +brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly +educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good +Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours +and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have +known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and +besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age, +Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that +which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very +well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in +themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may +be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me +prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy, +lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a +Denial. + +_Ma._ What would you have me say? + +_Pa._ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_ +after me. + +_Ma._ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus. + +_Pa._ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one. + +_Ma._ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you +should repent of when done. + +_Pa._ Leave off teasing me. + +_Ma._ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or +Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty. + +_Pa._ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I +don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your +Guest within it I am most in Love with. + +_Ma._ What Guest do you mean? + +_Pa._ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase. + +_Ma._ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that +through so many Coverings. + +_Pa._ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then +besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children. + +_Ma._ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead. + +_Pa._ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard, +would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees; +or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the +Boughs laden with ripe Apples? + +_Ma._ Oh, how cunningly you can argue! + +_Pa._ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine +lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an +Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour? + +_Ma._ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most +pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and +withering in the Hand? + +_Pa._ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there +delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the +Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the +most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is +to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon +as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage +look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the +Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have +brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom. + +_Ma._ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing. + +_Pa._ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous +than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should +never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren +Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us. + +_Ma._ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God. + +_Pa._ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live +chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies. +We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will +the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live +together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to +be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once. + +_Ma._ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be +learned? + +_Pa._ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn +to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he +that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them, +or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance? + +_Ma._ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty +can't debauch. + +_Pa._ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates +himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery? + +_Ma._ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman. + +_Pa._ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure +Matrimony? + +_Ma._ I think they do. + +_Pa._ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition. + +_Ma._ Is it not? + +_Pa._ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it +were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault +not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it. + +_Ma._ When does this Case happen? + +_Pa._ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially +if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation. + +_Ma._ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him? + +_Pa._ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but +if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few +Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account. + +_Ma._ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing. + +_Pa._ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and +you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our +Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage? + +_Ma._ Marriage is called a Halter. + +_Pa._ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your +Soul and Body bound together? + +_Ma._ Yes, I think they are. + +_Pa._ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed +from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that? +Because it is bound by its own Consent. + +_Ma._ But we have neither of us got much of Portion. + +_Pa._ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good +Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great +Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry. + +_Ma._ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them. + +_Pa._ Have done with Scruples. + +_Ma._ Would you have me marry a dead Man? + +_Pa._ No, but I shall come to Life again then. + +_Ma._ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell. + +_Pa._ Do you take Care of that. + +_Ma._ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh? + +_Pa._ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me. + +_Ma._ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty. + +_Pa._ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me? + +_Ma._ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart. + +_Pa._ But give me a Kiss too. + +_Ma._ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and +untouch'd. + +_Pa._ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity? + +_Ma._ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks? + +_Pa._ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself. + +_Ma._ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I +dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present. + +_Pa._ What is that? + +_Ma._ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that +there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little +that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should +be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do +you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in +the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good. + + + + +_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She + is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her + Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her + Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may + be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living + in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He + abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids + into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no + other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits + are as it were buried alive._ + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eub._ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we +may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion +in the World. + +_Ca._ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table. + +_Eu._ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely +this is its Youth. + +_Ca._ Ay, so it is. + +_Eu._ But why is it not Spring with you too? + +_Ca._ What do you mean? + +_Eu._ Because you look a little dull. + +_Ca._ Why, don't I look as I use to do? + +_Eu._ Shall I show you how you look? + +_Ca._ With all my Heart. + +_Eu._ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night? + +_Ca._ Yes, I do see it: And what then? + +_Eu._ Why, just so you look. + +_Ca._ A very fine Comparison. + +_Eu._ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here. +What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so? + +_Ca._ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you. + +_Eu._ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful +myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep +one too! + +_Ca._ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not +tell it. + +_Eu._ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my +own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you +are safe. + +_Ca._ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the +better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good. + +_Eu._ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself, +perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation. + +_Ca._ I can't speak it out. + +_Eu._ What is the Matter? Do you hate me? + +_Ca._ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that +my Heart won't let me divulge it. + +_Eu._ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me +your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out. + +_Ca._ Well then, I do give you my Word. + +_Eu._ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want +of being compleatly happy. + +_Ca._ I would I were so. + +_Eu._ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you +are now in your seventeenth Year. + +_Ca._ That's true. + +_Eu._ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of +your Trouble. + +_Ca._ Nothing less, I assure you. + +_Eu._ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of +God. + +_Ca._ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain. + +_Eu._ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you +to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper. + +_Ca._ Nothing of that, I thank God. + +_Eu._ And besides, your Credit is fair. + +_Ca._ I trust it is. + +_Eu._ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the +Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in +order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences. + +_Ca._ If I have, I thank God for it. + +_Eu._ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met +with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither. + +_Ca._ I wish they were such as they should be. + +_Eu._ Some People are uneasy at the Meanness of their Extraction, but +your Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentiful +Fortunes, and very kind to you. + +_Ca._ I have nothing to complain of upon that Account. + +_Eu._ What Need of many Words? Of all the young Women in the Country you +are the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition to +pretend to't. + +_Ca._ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'd +to marry. + +_Eu._ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mind +so. + +_Ca._ It is no light Matter, you may depend upon it. + +_Eu._ You won't take it ill I hope if I guess at it. + +_Ca._ I have promis'd you I won't. + +_Eu._ I know by Experience what a Torment Love is. Come, confess now, is +that it? You promis'd to tell me. + +_Ca._ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that you +imagine. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Love is it that you mean? + +_Ca._ Guess. + +_Eu._ I have guess'd all the Guesses I can guess; but I'm resolv'd I'll +never let go this Hand till I have gotten it out of you. + +_Ca._ How violent you are. + +_Eu._ Whatever your Care is, repose it in my Breast. + +_Ca._ Since you are so urgent, I will tell you. From my very Infancy I +have had a very strong Inclination. + +_Eu._ To what, I beseech you? + +_Ca._ To put myself into a Cloyster. + +_Eu._ What, to be a Nun? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ Ho! I find I was out in my Notion; to leave a Shoulder of Mutton +for a Sheep's Head. + +_Ca._ What's that you say, _Eubulus_? + +_Eu._ Nothing, my Dear, I did but cough. But, go on, tell me it out. + +_Ca._ This was my Inclination; but my Parents were violently set against +it. + +_Eu._ I hear ye. + +_Ca._ On the other Hand, I strove by Intreaties, fair Words, and Tears, +to overcome that pious Aversion of my Parents. + +_Eu._ O strange! + +_Ca._ At Length when they saw I persisted in Intreaties, Prayers, and +Tears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I was +seventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Time +is now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from their +Words. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you my +Distemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can. + +_Eu._ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you to +moderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all that +you can. + +_Ca._ It will certainly be the Death of me, if I han't my Desire. + +_Eu._ What was it that gave the first Rise to this fatal Resolution? + +_Ca._ Formerly, when I was a little Girl, they carried me into one of +those Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me the +whole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd so +charming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smelt +so sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in short +which Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And then +I had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or three +that had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had a +strange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since. + +_Eu._ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the same +Thing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, as +far as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should rather +advise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your own +House, of which he should be the Abbot and you the Abbess. + +_Ca._ I will rather die than quit my Resolution of Virginity. + +_Eu._ Nay, it is indeed an admirable Thing to be a pure Virgin, but you +may keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, from +which you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home with +your Parents. + +_Ca._ Yes, I may, but it is not so safe there. + +_Eu._ Much safer truly in my Judgment there, than with those brawny, +swill-belly'd Monks. They are no Capons, I'll assure you, whatever you +may think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make good +their Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no where +honester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Father +they had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thou +made Choice of among 'em all, to be a Slave in? + +_Ca._ The _Chrysertian_. + +_Eu._ Oh! I know it, it is a little Way from your Father's House. + +_Ca._ You're right. + +_Eu._ I am very well acquainted with the whole Gang. A sweet Fellowship +to renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For the +Patriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain natural +Drowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish any +Thing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, that +match him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an ill +Man, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not a +Grain of Learning in him, and not much more common Prudence. And +_Jodocus_ he's so arrant a Sot, that if he were not ty'd up to the Habit +of his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears and +Bells at it. + +_Ca._ Truly they seem to me to be very good Men. + +_Eu._ But, my _Kitty_, I know 'em better than you do. They will do good +Offices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain a +Proselyte. + +_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me. + +_Eu._ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men to +Day, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them be +what they will then, you must bear with them. + +_Ca._ I am troubled to see so many Entertainments at my Father's House, +and marry'd Folks are so given to talk smutty; I'm put to't sometimes +when Men come to kiss me, and you know one can't well deny a Kiss. + +_Eu._ He that would avoid every Thing that offends him, must go out of +the World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but let +nothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allow +you a Chamber to yourself. + +_Ca._ Yes, they do. + +_Eu._ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company grow +troublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertain +yourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks: +Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the more +pure. + +_Ca._ But it is a great Deal safer to be in Virgins Company. + +_Eu._ I do not disapprove of a chaste Society: Yet I would not have you +delude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to be +throughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Things +won't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not all +Virgins that wear Vails; believe me. + +_Ca._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Eu._ Those are good Words that are true Words. I never read of but one +Virgin that was a Mother, _i.e._ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy we +appropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'd +Virgins after Childbearing. + +_Ca._ I abhor the Thoughts on't. + +_Eu._ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do more +than becomes Maids to do. + +_Ca._ Ay! why so, pray? + +_Eu._ Because there are more among 'em that imitate _Sappho_ in Manners, +than are like her in Wit. + +_Ca._ I don't very well understand you. + +_Eu._ My dear _Kitty_, I therefore speak in Cypher that you may not +understand me. + +_Ca._ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have a +strong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hath +continu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger and +stronger. + +_Eu._ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes me +suspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined your +Parents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affection +from the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles of +the Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, the +external Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of the +senseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they may +tipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful, +and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they know +he'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or else +they'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing without +your Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God would +have inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were a +religious Matter. + +_Ca._ In this Matter it is Piety to contemn Father and Mother. + +_Eu._ It is, I grant, sometimes a Piece of Piety to contemn Father or +Mother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not act +piously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who had +nothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, and +leave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ by +Baptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you would +indeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; or +if your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalous +Thing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what is +this to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have the +Dictates of Nature, the Approbation of Heaven, the Exhortation of St. +_Paul_, and the Obligation of human Laws, for your Obedience to Parents; +and will you now withdraw yourself from under the Authority of good and +natural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father, +rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of your +true Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents? +For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you be +at Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd +[_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition of +Servants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarily +a Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measure +cast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscure +Foot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out under +pretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed in +many Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then all +that you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of the +Door, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'd +her Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they change +the Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves in +old Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name that +was given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or +_Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, and +being to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If a +military Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he not +look'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him that +takes upon him a Habit that Christ the Master of us all never gave him? +He is punish'd more severely for the changing it again, than if he had a +hundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which is +the Innocency of his Mind. + +_Ca._ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into this +voluntary Confinement. + +_Eu._ That is a pharisaical Doctrine. St. _Paul_ teacheth us otherwise, +_and will not have him that is called free, make himself a Servant, but +rather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitude +the worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonly +Fools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, being +every now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, do +any Laws discharge you from your Duty to your Parents? + +_Ca._ No. + +_Eu._ Can you buy or sell an Estate against your Parents Consent? + +_Ca._ No, I can't. + +_Eu._ What Right have you then to give away yourself to I know not whom, +against your Parents Consent? Are you not their Child, the dearest and +most appropriate Part of their Possession? + +_Ca._ In the Business of Religion, the Laws of Nature give Place. + +_Eu._ The great Point of our Religion lies in our Baptism: But the +Matter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such a +Course of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And now +consider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose, +together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, or +sing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as you +please. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hear +Anthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virgin +remarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see any +Man that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn what +will make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and you +may chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you +come into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatest +Assistances in the Promotion of true Piety, you lose at once. + +_Ca._ But in the mean Time I shall not be a Nun. + +_Eu._ What signifies the Name? Consider the Thing itself. They make +their boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in being +obedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God has +commanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, when +all is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times were +in an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberality +towards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they had +possessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for living +with your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? A +Vail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, which +of themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make no +Body more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purity +of the Mind. + +_Ca._ This is News to me. + +_Eu._ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from the +Government of your Parents, can't dispose of, or sell so much as a Rag, +or an Inch of Ground, what Right can you pretend to for disposing of +yourself into the Service of a Stranger? + +_Ca._ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child +from entering into a religious Life. + +_Eu._ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism? + +_Ca._ Yes. + +_Eu._ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of +Christ? + +_Ca._ They are so. + +_Eu._ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the +Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the +Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that +never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their +Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a +Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and +against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase +it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither +according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine +of _Christ_ or his Apostles. + +_Ca._ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without +my Parents Consent? + +_Eu._ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is +the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only +about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is +to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to +it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else. + +_Ca._ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest +Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents. + +_Eu._ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the +holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this, +bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they +can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents +to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it +too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I +pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to +Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents, +as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself. + +_Ca._ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life? + +_Eu._ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it, +that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of +it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially +those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly +into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the +rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out +of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at +Home. + +_Ca._ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet +this Affection of mine can't be removed. + +_Eu._ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could, +however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand. +In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations +may succeed better than my Counsel. + + + + +_The PENITENT VIRGIN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself, + goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the + Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten + unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd + Apparitions and Visions_. + + +EUBULUS, CATHERINE. + +_Eu._ I could always wish to have such a Porter. + +_Ca._ And I to have such Visitors. + +_Eu._ But fare you well, _Kitty_. + +_Ca._ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute? + +_Eu._ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as +soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes? + +_Ca._ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better +Looks, and we'll be merry together. + +_Eu._ What Sort of Cattle have we got here? + +_Ca._ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had +their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is +gone, we will discourse as we use to do. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you +would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I +would fain have it from your Mouth. + +_Ca._ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to +be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than +you, that are the youngest of 'em all. + +_Eu._ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last? + +_Ca._ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and +then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought +over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by +several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like +one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in +their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let +Christ have his Spouse. + +_Eu._ O the Villany of Fools! But what then? + +_Ca._ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time +there were always with me some Women of the College that they call +_Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution, +and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come +at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making +ready, and the Provision for the Feast. + +_Eu._ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet? + +_Ca._ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had +rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again. + +_Eu._ What was that, pray? + +_Ca._ It is not to be uttered. + +_Eu._ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend. + +_Ca._ Will you keep Counsel? + +_Eu._ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better +than to doubt of it. + +_Ca._ I had a most dreadful Apparition. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this. + +_Ca._ I am fully persuaded it was an evil Spirit. + +_Eu._ Tell me what Shape it was in. Was it such as we use to paint with +a crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail? + +_Ca._ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, than +see such another. + +_Eu._ And were your Women Sollicitresses with you then? + +_Ca._ No, nor I would not so much as open my Lips of it to them, though +they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost +dead with the Surprise. + +_Eu._ Shall I tell you what it was? + +_Ca._ Do if you can. + +_Eu._ Those Women had certainly bewitch'd you, or conjur'd your Brain +out of your Head rather. But did you persist in your Resolution still, +for all this? + +_Ca._ Yes, for they told me, that many were thus troubled upon their +first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of +the Devil that Bout, he'd let them alone for ever after. + +_Eu._ Well, what Pomp were you carried out with? + +_Ca._ They put on all my Finery, let down my Hair, and dress'd me just +as if it had been for my Wedding. + +_Eu._ To a fat Monk, perhaps; Hem! a Mischief take this Cough. + +_Ca._ I was carried from my Father's House to the College by broad +Day-Light, and a World of People staring at me. + +_Eu._ O these Scaramouches, how they know to wheedle the poor People! +How many Days did you continue in that holy College of Virgins, +forsooth? + +_Ca._ Till Part of the twelfth Day. + +_Eu._ But what was it that changed your Mind, that had been so +resolutely bent upon it? + +_Ca._ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something very +considerable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; I +begged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out of +the College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to my +Resolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, telling +me, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make me +master mine, and not disgrace him, by starting from my Purpose. At last, +when I saw that I could do no good with them this Way, I told my Father +and Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and that +would certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that very +quickly too; and upon this, they took me Home. + +_Eu._ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'd +yourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changed +your Mind so suddenly. + +_Ca._ I never told any Mortal yet, nor shall. + +_Eu._ What if I should guess? + +_Ca._ I'm sure you can't guess it; and if you do, I won't tell you. + +_Eu._ Well, for all that, I guess what it was. But in the mean Time, you +have been at a great Charge. + +_Ca._ Above 400 Crowns. + +_Eu._ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money is +gone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counsel +when it is given you. + +_Ca._ So I will. _The burnt Child dreads the Fire._ + + + + +_The UNEASY WIFE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy, entitled_, The uneasy Wife: _Or_, Uxor + [Greek: Mempsigamos], _treats of many Things that relate + to the mutual Nourishment of conjugal Affection. + Concerning the concealing a Husband's Faults; of not + interrupting conjugal Benevolence; of making up + Differences; of mending a Husband's Manners; of a Woman's + Condescension to her Husband. What is the Beauty of a + Woman; she disgraces herself, that disgraces her Husband; + that the Wife ought to submit to the Husband; that the + Husband ought not to be out of Humour when the Wife is; + and on the Contrary; that they ought to study mutual + Concord, since there is no Room for Advice; that they + ought to conceal one another's Faults, and not expose one + another; that it is in the Power of the Wife to mend her + Husband; that she ought to carry herself engagingly, + learn his Humour, what provokes him or appeases him; that + all Things be in Order at Home; that he have what he + likes best to eat; that if the Husband be vext, the Wife + don't laugh; if he be angry, that she should speak + pleasantly to him, or hold her Tongue; that what she + blames him for, should be betwixt themselves; the Method + of admonishing; that she ought to make her Complaint to + no Body but her Husband's Parents; or to some peculiar + Friends that have an Influence upon him. The Example of a + prudent Man, excellently managing a young morose Wife, by + making his Complaint to her Father. Another of a prudent + Wife, that by her good Carriage reformed a Husband that + frequented leud Company, Another of a Man that had beaten + his Wife in his angry Fit; that Husbands are to be + overcome, brought into Temper by Mildness, Sweetness, and + Kindness; that there should be no Contention in the + Chamber or in the Bed; but that Care should be taken, + that nothing but Pleasantness and Engagingness be there. + The Girdle of_ Venus _is Agreeableness of Manners. + Children make a mutual Amity. That a Woman separated from + her Husband, is nothing: Let her always be mindful of the + Respect that is due to a Husband._ + + +EULALIA, XANTIPPE. + +_EU._ Most welcome _Xantippe_, a good Morning to you. + +_Xa._ I wish you the same, my dear _Eulalia_. Methinks you look prettier +than you use to do. + +_Eu._ What, do you begin to banter me already? + +_Xa._ No, upon my Word, for you seem so to me. + +_Eu._ Perhaps then my new Cloaths may set me off to Advantage. + +_Xa._ You guess right, it is one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld in +all my Life. It is _English_ Cloth, I suppose. + +_Eu._ It is indeed of _English_ Wool, but it is a _Venetian_ Dye. + +_Xa._ It is as soft as Silk, and 'tis a charming Purple. Who gave you +this fine Present? + +_Eu._ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents but +from him? + +_Xa._ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a good +Husband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I was +married to my _Nick_. + +_Eu._ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between you +already? + +_Xa._ There is no Possibility of agreeing with such a one as I have got. +You see what a ragged Condition I am in; so he lets me go like a Dowdy! +May I never stir, if I an't asham'd to go out of Doors any whither, when +I see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so rich +as mine is. + +_Eu._ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or other +Deckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard that +lately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and the +Ornaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of many +but we are well enough drest, if we do but please our own Husbands. + +_Xa._ But mean while this worthy Tool of mine, that is so sparing toward +his Wife, lavishly squanders away the Portion I brought along with me, +which by the Way was not a mean one. + +_Eu._ In what? + +_Xa._ Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes at the Tavern, sometimes upon +his Whores, sometimes a gaming. + +_Eu._ O fie, you should never say so of your Husband. + +_Xa._ But I'm sure 'tis too true; and then when he comes Home, after I +have been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunk +as _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by my +Side, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more. + +_Eu._ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing your +Husband. + +_Xa._ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such a +Husband as I have got. + +_Eu._ Don't you scold at him then? + +_Xa._ Yes, indeed, I use him as he deserves. He finds I have got a +Tongue in my Head. + +_Eu._ Well, and what does he say to you again? + +_Xa._ At first he used to hector at me lustily, thinking to fright me +with his big Words. + +_Eu._ Well, and did your Words never come to downright Blows? + +_Xa._ Once, and but once, and then the Quarrel rose to that Height on +both Sides, that we were within an Ace of going to Fisty-Cuffs. + +_Eu._ How, Woman! say you so? + +_Xa._ He held up his Stick at me, swearing and cursing like a +Foot-Soldier, and threatening me dreadfully. + +_Eu._ Were not you afraid then? + +_Xa._ Nay, I snatch'd up a three legg'd Stool, and if he had but touch'd +me with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman of +Spirit. + +_Eu._ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming. + +_Xa._ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use him +like a Husband. + +_Eu._ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to their +own Husbands with all Reverence. And St. _Peter_ proposes the Example of +_Sarah_ to us, who call'd her Husband _Abraham_ Lord. + +_Xa._ I have heard those Things, but the same _Paul_ likewise teaches +that _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse the +Church_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine. + +_Eu._ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one must +submit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to her +Husband. + +_Xa._ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me like +a Kitchen Wench. + +_Eu._ But tell me, _Xantippe_, did he leave off threatening after this? + +_Xa._ He did leave off, and it was his Wisdom so to do, or else he would +have been thresh'd. + +_Eu._ But did not you leave off Scolding at him? + +_Xa._ No, nor never will. + +_Eu._ But what does he do in the mean Time? + +_Xa._ What! Why sometimes he pretends himself to be fast asleep, and +sometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes he +catches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it with +all his Might, and drowns the Noise of my Bawling. + +_Eu._ And does not that vex you to the Heart? + +_Xa._ Ay, so that it is impossible to be express'd, so that sometimes I +can scarce keep my Hands off of him. + +_Eu._ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely with +you. + +_Xa._ I do give you Leave. + +_Eu._ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, which +has been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this. + +_Xa._ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I more +dearly lov'd than you. + +_Eu._ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, That +there is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy for +irreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: He +must be your Husband and you his Wife to the very last Day of Life. + +_Xa._ The Gods did very wrong that depriv'd us of this Privilege. + +_Eu._ Have a Care what you say. It was the Will of Christ. + +_Xa._ I can scarce believe it. + +_Eu._ It is as I tell you. Now you have nothing left to do but to study +to suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agree +together. + +_Xa._ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him? + +_Eu._ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbands +shall be. + +_Xa._ Do you and your Husband agree very well together? + +_Eu._ All is quiet with us now. + +_Xa._ Well then, you had some Difference at first. + +_Eu._ Never any Thing of a Storm; but yet, as it is common with human +Kind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'd +a Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one has +his Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speak +the Truth, every one his Faults, more or less, which if in any State, +certainly in Matrimony we ought to connive at, and not to hate. + +_Xa._ You speak very right. + +_Eu._ It frequently happens that that mutual Love that ought to be +between the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughly +acquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to be +provided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, it +is a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially if +it ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. Those +Things that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one from +another if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once they +have been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothing +more firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken that +good Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in the +Infancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness, +and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only upon +Beauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd. + +_Xa._ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to your +Humour. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you for this End, that you may copy after me. + +_Xa._ Well, I will, if I can. + +_Eu._ It will be very easy to do, if you will; nor is it too late yet; +for he is in the Flower of his Youth, and you are but a Girl; and as I +take it, have not been married this Twelve Months yet. + +_Xa._ You are very right. + +_Eu._ Then I'll tell you; but upon Condition, that you'll not speak of +it. + +_Xa._ Well, I will not. + +_Eu._ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in every +Respect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed his +Inclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiest +Moments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to do +who tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can't +be master'd by downright Strength. + +_Xa._ And such an Animal have I at Home. + +_Eu._ Those that go near Elephants, wear no Garment that is white; nor +those who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, that +these Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers are +made so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their own +selves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and +Stroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: How +much more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, with +whom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed and +Board? + +_Xa._ Well, go on with what you have begun. + +_Eu._ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, taking +Care that nothing should offend him. + +_Xa._ How could you do that? + +_Eu._ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is the +peculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that every +Thing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the most +minute Things. + +_Xa._ What Things? + +_Eu._ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, or +liked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made after +such or such a Manner. + +_Xa._ But how could you humour one who was never at Home, or was drunk? + +_Eu._ Have Patience, I was coming to that Point. If at any Time my +Husband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, I +did not laugh, and put on a gay Humour, as some Women are us'd to do; +but I put on a grave demure Countenance, as well as he. For as a +Looking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Person +that looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper of +her Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry when +he is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I either +endeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till his +Passion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered, +either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the same +Method, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time never +gave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, I +might get him to go to Bed. + +_Xa._ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must only +humour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thing +that they have a Mind to do. + +_Eu._ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands are +not forc'd to bear with many of our Humours: However, there is a Time, +when a Wife may take the Freedom in a Matter of some Importance to +advise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink at +them. + +_Xa._ But what Time is that? + +_Eu._ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor in +the Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advise +him, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this or +that Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. And +this very Advice is to be season'd with witty Jests and Pleasantries. +Sometimes by Way of Preface, I make a Bargain with him before-Hand, that +he shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me +to advise him in any Thing, that might seem to concern his Honour, +Health, or Preservation. When I have said what I had a Mind to say, I +break off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertaining +Subject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that when +once we have begun, we don't know when to make an End. + +_Xa._ Why, so they say, indeed. + +_Eu._ This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband +before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes +between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken +Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born +with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife, +it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's +Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint, +that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And +not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love +his Wife for her Civility. + +_Xa._ A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this. + +_Eu._ By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility. + +_Xa._ But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by +the utmost good Carriage. + +_Eu._ In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First, +consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he +will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little +better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him +grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of +Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses +much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands +after this Manner? + +_Xa._ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my +Husband, as black is from white. + +_Eu._ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble +Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a +young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated +all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love +to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a +Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily +form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in +Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of +Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which +would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to +the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip +and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to +submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd +her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw +herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as +tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this, +conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with +him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a +little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When +they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters, +and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside +privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes +to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that +was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any +Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his +Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once +put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might +use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law +replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be +reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities. +The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a +Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone +with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her +how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how +often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a +Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the +best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being +sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a +Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would +scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you +are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so +hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands +off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any +Part, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, and +partly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at her +Father's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time to +come, she would be mindful of her Duty. Her Father freely forgave her, +and also promised, that he would be to her a very indulgent Father, +provided she perform'd what she promis'd. + +_Xa._ Well, what happened after that? + +_Eu._ The young Lady going away, after her Fathers Discourse was ended, +went directly into her Chamber, and finding her Husband alone, she fell +down on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neither +knew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find me +another Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. The +Husband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thing +she could desire, if she did but continue in that Resolution. + +_Xa._ What! Did she continue in it? + +_Eu._ Even to her dying Day; nor was any Thing so mean, but she readily +and chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So great +a Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the young +Lady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marry +such a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the most +wretched Woman alive. + +_Xa._ Such Husbands are as scarce now a Days as white Crows. + +_Eu._ Now if it will not be tedious to you, I'll tell you a Story, that +lately happen'd in this City, of a Husband that was reclaimed by the +good Management of his Wife. + +_Xa._ I have nothing to do at present, and your Conversation is very +diverting. + +_Eu._ There is a certain Gentleman of no mean Descent; he, like the rest +of his Quality, used often to go a Hunting: Being in the Country, he +happen'd to see a young Damsel, the Daughter of a poor old Woman, and +began to fall desperately in love with her. He was a Man pretty well in +Years; and for the Sake of this young Maid, he often lay out a Nights, +and his Pretence for it was Hunting. His Wife, a Woman of an admirable +Temper, suspecting something more than ordinary, went in search to find +out her Husband's Intrigues, and having discover'd them, by I can't tell +what Method, she goes to the Country Cottage, and learnt all the +Particulars where he lay, what he drank, and what Manner of +Entertainment he had at Table. There was no Furniture in the House, +nothing but naked Walls. The Gentlewoman goes Home, and quickly after +goes back again, carrying with her a handsome Bed and Furniture, some +Plate and Money, bidding them to treat him with more Respect, if at any +Time he came there again. A few Days after, her Husband steals an +Opportunity to go thither, and sees the Furniture increas'd, and finds +his Entertainment more delicate than it us'd to be; he enquir'd from +whence this unaccustomed Finery came: They said, that a certain honest +Gentlewoman of his Acquaintance, brought these Things; and gave them in +Charge, that he should be treated with more Respect for the future. He +presently suspected that this was done by his Wife. When he came Home, +he ask'd her if she had been there. She did not deny it. Then he ask'd +her for what Reason she had sent thither that household Furniture? My +Dear, says she, you are us'd to a handsomer Way of Living: I found that +you far'd hardly there, I thought it my Duty, since you took a Fancy to +the Place, that your Reception should be more agreeable. + +_Xa._ A Wife good even to an Excess. I should sooner have sent him a +Bundle of Nettles and Thorns, than furnish'd him with a fine Bed. + +_Eu._ But hear the Conclusion of my Story; the Gentleman was so touch'd, +seeing so much good Nature and Temper in his Wife, that he never after +that violated her Bed, but solaced himself with her at Home. I know you +know _Gilbert_ the _Dutchman_. + +_Xa._ I know him. + +_Eu._ He, you know, in the prime of his Age, marry'd a Gentlewoman well +stricken in Years, and in a declining Age. + +_Xa._ It may be he marry'd the Portion, and not the Woman. + +_Eu._ So it was. He having an Aversion to his Wife, was over Head and +Ears in Love with a young Woman, with whom he us'd ever and anon to +divert himself abroad. He very seldom either din'd or supp'd at home. +What would you have done, if this had been your Case, _Xantippe_? + +_Xa._ Why I would have torn his beloved Strumpet's Headcloths off, and I +would have wash'd him well with a Chamber-Pot, when he was going to her, +that he might have gone thus perfum'd to his Entertainment. + +_Eu._ But how much more prudently did this Gentlewoman behave herself. +She invited his Mistress home to her House, and treated her with all the +Civility imaginable. So she kept her Husband without any magical Charms. +And if at any Time he supp'd abroad with her, she sent them thither some +Nicety or other, desiring them to be merry together. + +_Xa._ As for me, I would sooner chuse to lose my Life than to be Bawd to +my own Husband. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time, pray consider the Matter soberly and coolly. +Was not this much better, than if she had by her ill Temper totally +alienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole Life in +quarrelling and brawling. + +_Xa._ I believe, that of two Evils it was the least, but I could never +have submitted to it. + +_Eu._ I will add one more, and then I'll have done with Examples. A +next Door Neighbour of ours is a very honest, good Man, but a little too +subject to Passion. One Day he beat his Wife, a Woman of commendable +Prudence. She immediately withdrew into a private Room, and there gave +Vent to her Grief by Tears and Sighs. Soon after upon some Occasion her +Husband came into the Room, and found his Wife all in Tears. What's the +Matter, says he, that you're crying and sobbing like a Child? To which +she prudently reply'd, Why, says she, is it not much better to lament my +Misfortune here, than if I should make a Bawling in the Street, as other +Women do? The Man's Mind was so overcome and mollified by this Answer, +so like a Wife, that giving her his Hand, he made a solemn Promise to +his Wife, he would never lay his Hand upon her after, as long as he +liv'd. Nor did he ever do it. + +_Xa._ I have obtain'd as much from my Husband, but by a different +Conduct. + +_Eu._ But in the mean Time there are perpetual Wars between you. + +_Xa._ What then would you have me to do? + +_Eu._ If your Husband offers you any Affront, you must take no Notice of +it, but endeavour to gain his good Will by all good Offices, courteous +Carriage, and Meekness of Spirit, and by these Methods, you will in +Time, either wholly reclaim him, or at least you will live with him much +more easy than now you do. + +_Xa._ Ay, but he's too ill-natur'd to be wrought upon by all the kind +Offices in the World. + +_Eu._ Hold, don't say so, there is no Beast that is so savage but he may +be tam'd by good Management; therefore don't despair of it as to a Man. +Do but make the Experiment for a few Months, and if you do not find that +this Advice has been of Benefit to you, blame me. And there are also +some Faults that you must wink at; but above all Things, it is my +Opinion, you ought to avoid ever to begin any Quarrel either in the +Bed-Chamber, or in Bed, and to take a special Care that every Thing +there be chearful and pleasant. For if that Place which is consecrated +for the wiping out old Miscarriages and the cementing of Love, comes to +be unhallowed by Contention and Sourness of Temper, all Remedy for the +Reconcilement is taken away. For there are some Women of so morose +Tempers that they will be querulous, and scold even while the Rites of +Love are performing, and will by the Uneasiness of their Tempers render +that Fruition itself disagreeable which is wont to discharge the Minds +of Men from any Heart-burning, that they may have had; and by this Means +they spoil that Cordial, by which Misunderstandings in Matrimony might +be cured. + +_Xa._ That has been often my Case. + +_Eu._ And tho' it ought always to be the Care of a Wife, not to make her +Husband uneasy in any Thing; yet that ought to be especially her Care to +study, in conjugal Embraces to render herself by all ways possible, +agreeable and delightful to her Husband. + +_Xa._ To a Man, indeed! But I have to do with an untractable Beast. + +_Eu._ Come, come, leave off Railing. For the most part Husbands are made +bad, by our bad Conduct. But to return to our Argument, those that are +conversant in the antient Fables of the Poets, tell you that _Venus_, +(whom they make a Goddess, that presides over Matrimony) had a Girdle or +_Cestus_ which was made for her by _Vulcan's_ Art, in which were +interwoven all bewitching Ingredients of an amorous Medicament, and that +she put this on whenever she went to bed to her Husband. + +_Xa._ I hear a Fable. + +_Eu._ It is true: But hear the Moral of it. + +_Xa._ Tell it me. + +_Eu._ That teaches that a Wife ought to use all the Care imaginable to +be so engaging to her Husband in conjugal Embraces, that matrimonial +Affection may be retain'd and renew'd, and if there has been any +Distaste or Aversion, it may be expell'd the Mind. + +_Xa._ But where can a Body get this Girdle? + +_Eu._ There is no Need of Witchcrafts and Spells to procure one. There +is no Enchantment so effectual as Virtue, join'd with a Sweetness of +Disposition. + +_Xa._ I can't be able to bring myself to humour such a Husband as I have +got. + +_Eu._ But this is for your Interest, that he would leave off to be such +a bad Husband. If you could by _Circe_'s Art transform your Husband into +a Swine or a Bear, would you do it? + +_Xa._ I can't tell, whether I should or no. + +_Eu._ Which had you rather have, a Swine to your Husband, or a Man? + +_Xa._ In Truth, I had rather have a Man. + +_Eu._ Well, come on. What if you could by _Circe_'s Arts make him a +sober Man of a Drunkard, a frugal Man of a Spendthrift, a diligent Man +of an idle Fellow, would you not do it? + +_Xa._ To be sure, I would do it. But how shall I attain the Art? + +_Eu._ You have the Art in yourself, if you would but make Use of it. +Whether you will or no he must be your Husband, and the better Man you +make him, the more you consult your own Advantage. You only keep your +Eyes fix'd upon his Faults, and those aggravate your Aversion to him; +and only hold him by this Handle, which is such a one that he cannot be +held by; but rather take Notice of what good Qualities he has, and hold +him by this Handle, which is a Handle he may be held by: Before you +married him, you had Time of considering what his Defects were. A +Husband is not to be chosen by the Eyes only, but by the Ears too. Now +'tis your Time to cure him, and not to find Fault with him. + +_Xa._ What Woman ever made Choice of a Husband by her Ears? + +_Eu._ She chuses a Husband by her Eyes, which looks at nothing else but +his Person and bare Outside: She chuses him by her Ears, who carefully +observes what Reputation he has in the World. + +_Xa._ This is good Advice, but it is too late. + +_Eu._ But it is not too late to endeavour to amend your Husband. It will +contribute something to the Matter, if you could have any Children by +him. + +_Xa._ I have had one. + +_Eu._ When? + +_Xa._ A long Time ago. + +_Eu._ How many Months? + +_Xa._ Why, about Seven. + +_Eu._ What do I hear! You put me in Mind of the Joke of the three Months +Lying in. + +_Xa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ It must be so, if you reckon from the Day of Marriage. + +_Xa._ But I had some private Discourse with him before Marriage. + +_Eu._ Are Children got by Talking? + +_Xa._ He having by Chance got me into a Room by myself, began to play +with me, tickling me about the Arm-pits and Sides, to make me laugh, and +I not being able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flat +upon the Bed, and he lying upon me, kiss'd me, and I don't know what he +did to me besides; but this is certain, within a few Days after, my +Belly began to swell. + +_Eu._ Get you gone now, and slight a Husband, who if he can get Children +jesting, what will he do if he sets about it in earnest? + +_Xa._ I suspect that I am now with Child by him again. + +_Eu._ O brave! to a good Soil, here's a good Ploughman to till it. + +_Xa._ As to this Affair, he's better than I wish he was. + +_Eu._ Very few Wives have this Complaint to make: But, I suppose, the +Marriage Contract was made between you, before this happened. + +_Xa._ It was made. + +_Eu._ Then the Sin was so much the less. Is your Child a Boy? + +_Xa._ It is. + +_Eu._ That will reconcile you both, if you will but qualify yourself a +little for it. What Sort of Character do your Husband's Companions give +him? And what Company does he keep when he is abroad? + +_Xa._ They give him the Character of an exceeding good-humour'd, +courteous, generous Man, and a true Friend to his Friend. + +_Eu._ These Things give me great Hopes, that he will become such as we +would have him be. + +_Xa._ But I am the only Person he is not so to. + +_Eu._ Do you but be to him what I have told you, and if he does not +begin to be so to you, instead of _Eulalia_ (a good Speaker), call me +_Pseudolalia_ (a prating Liar); and besides, consider this, that he's +but a young Man yet, I believe not above twenty-four Years of Age, and +does not yet know what it is to be the Master of a Family. You must +never think of a Divorce now. + +_Xa._ But I have thought on it a great many Times. + +_Eu._ But if ever that Thought comes into your Mind again, first of all +consider with yourself, what an insignificant Figure a Woman makes when +she is parted from her Husband. It is the greatest Glory of a Matron, to +be obedient to her Husband. This Nature dictates, and it is the Will of +God, that the Woman should wholly depend upon her Husband: Only think, +as it really is, he is your Husband, you cannot have another. Then call +to Mind that the little Boy belongs to you both. What would you do with +him? Would you take him away with you? Then will you defraud your +Husband of his own. Will you leave him to him? Then you will deprive +yourself of that, than which nothing is more dear. Last of all, tell me, +is there any Body that wishes you ill? + +_Xa._ I have a Step-Mother, and a Mother-in-Law, as like her as may be. + +_Eu._ And they wish you ill, do they? + +_Xa._ They wish me in my Grave. + +_Eu._ Then think of them likewise. What can you be able to do, that +would be more grateful to them, than if they should see you divorc'd +from your Husband; a Widow, nay, to live, a Widow bewitcht, worse than a +Widow? For Widows may marry again. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Advice; but can't bear the Thoughts of being +always a Slave. + +_Eu._ Recount what Pains you took before you could teach that Parrot to +prattle. + +_Xa._ A great Deal indeed. + +_Eu._ And yet you think much to bestow a little Pains to mould your +Husband, with whom you may live a pleasant Life all your Days. What a +Deal of Pains do Men take to render a Horse tractable to them: And shall +we think much to take a little Pains to render our Husbands more +agreeable? + +_Xa._ What must I do? + +_Eu._ I have told you already, take Care that all Things be neat, and in +Order at Home, that there be nothing discomposing, to make him go out of +Doors; behave yourself easy and free to him, always remembring that +Respect which is due from a Wife to a Husband. Let all Melancholy and +ill-tim'd Gaiety be banished out of Doors; be not morose nor +frolicksome. Let your Table be handsomely provided. You know your +Husband's Palate, dress that which he likes best. Behave yourself +courteously and affably to those of his Acquaintance he respects. Invite +them frequently to Dinner; let all Things be pleasant and chearful at +Table. Lastly, if at any Time he happens to come Home a little merry +with Wine, and shall fall to playing on his Fiddle, do you sing, to him, +so you will gradually inure your Husband to keep at Home, and also +lessen his Expences: For he will thus reason with himself; was not I mad +with a Witness, who live abroad with a nasty Harlot, to the apparent +Prejudice of my Estate and Reputation, when I have at Home a Wife much +more entertaining and affectionate to me, with whom I may be entertained +more handsomely and more plentifully? + +_Xa._ Do you think I shall succeed, if I try? + +_Eu._ Look to me for that. I engage that you will: In the mean Time I'll +talk to your Husband, and put him in Mind of his Duty. + +_Xa._ I approve of your Design; but take Care that he mayn't discover +any Thing of what has past between us two, for he would throw the House +out of the Windows. + +_Eu._ Don't fear, I'll order my Discourse so by Turnings and Windings, +that he shall tell me himself, what Quarrels have happened between you. +When I have brought this about, I'll treat him after my Way, as +engagingly as can be, and I hope, shall render him to you better +temper'd: I'll likewise take Occasion to tell a Lie or two in your +Favour, how lovingly and respectfully you spoke of him. + +_Xa._ Heaven prosper both our Undertakings. + +_Eu._ It will, I doubt not, if you are not wanting to yourself. + + + + +_The SOLDIER and CARTHUSIAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets out to the Life, the Madness of young + Men that run into the Wars, and the Life of a pious + Carthusian, which without the love of Study, can't but be + melancholy and unpleasant. The Manners of Soldiers, the + Manners and Diet of Carthusians. Advice in chusing a Way + of getting a Livelihood. The Conveniency of a single + Life, to be at Leisure for Reading and Meditation. Wicked + Soldiers oftentimes butcher Men for a pitiful Reward. The + daily Danger of a Soldier's Life._ + + +_The_ SOLDIER _and_ CARTHUSIAN. + +_Sol._ Good Morrow, my Brother. + +_Cart._ Good Morrow to you, dear Cousin. + +_Sol._ I scarce knew you. + +_Cart._ Am I grown so old in two Years Time? + +_Sol._ No; but your bald Crown, and your new Dress, make you look to me +like another Sort of Creature. + +_Cart._ It may be you would not know your own Wife, if she should meet +you in a new Gown. + +_Sol._ No; not if she was in such a one as yours. + +_Cart._ But I know you very well, who are not altered as to your Dress; +but your Face, and the whole Habit of your Body: Why, how many Colours +are you painted with? No Bird had ever such a Variety of Feathers. How +all is cut and slash'd! Nothing according to Nature or Fashion! your cut +Hair, your half-shav'd Beard, and that Wood upon your upper Lip, +entangled and standing out straggling like the Whiskers of a Cat. Nor is +it one single Scar that has disfigured your Face, that you may very well +be taken for one of the _Samian literati_, [q.d. burnt in the Cheek] +concerning whom there is a joking Proverb. + +_Sol._ Thus it becomes a Man to come back from the Wars. But, pray, tell +me, was there so great a Scarcity of good Physicians in this Quarter of +the World? + +_Cart._ Why do you ask? + +_Sol._ Because you did not get the Distemper of your Brain cur'd, before +you plung'd yourself into this Slavery. + +_Cart._ Why, do you think I was mad then? + +_Sol._ Yes, I do. What Occasion was there for you to be buried here, +before your Time, when you had enough in the World to have lived +handsomely upon? + +_Cart._ What, don't you think I live in the World now? + +_Sol._ No, by _Jove_. + +_Cart._ Tell me why. + +_Sol._ Because you can't go where you list. You are confin'd in this +Place as in a Coop. Besides, your bald Pate, and your prodigious strange +Dress, your Lonesomeness, your eating Fish perpetually, so that I admire +you are not turn'd into a Fish. + +_Cart._ If Men were turn'd into what they eat, you had long ago been +turn'd into a Hog, for you us'd to be a mighty Lover of Pork. + +_Sol._ I don't doubt but you have repented of what you have done, long +enough before now, for I find very few that don't repent of it. + +_Cart._ This usually happens to those who plunge themselves headlong +into this Kind of Life, as if they threw themselves into a Well; but I +have enter'd into it warily and considerately, having first made Trial +of myself, and having duly examined the whole Ratio of this Way of +Living, being twenty-eight Years of Age, at which Time, every one may be +suppos'd to know himself. And as for the Place, you are confined in a +small Compass as well as I, if you compare it to the Extent of the +whole World. Nor does it signify any Thing how large the Place is, as +long as it wants nothing of the Conveniences of Life. There are many +that seldom stir out of the City in which they were born, which if they +were prohibited from going out, would be very uneasy, and would be +wonderfully desirous to do it. This is a common Humour, that I am not +troubled with. I fancy this Place to be the whole World to me, and this +Map represents the whole Globe of the Earth, which I can travel over in +Thought with more Delight and Security than he that sails to the +new-found Islands. + +_Sol._ What you say as to this, comes pretty near the Truth. + +_Cart._ You can't blame me for shaving my Head, who voluntarily have +your own Hair clipp'd, for Conveniency Sake. Shaving, to me, if it does +nothing else, certainly keeps my Head more clean, and perhaps more +healthful too. How many Noblemen at _Venice_ shave their Heads all over? +What has my Garment in it that is monstrous? Does it not cover my Body? +Our Garments are for two Uses, to defend us from the Inclemency of the +Weather, and to cover our Nakedness. Does not this Garment answer both +these Ends? But perhaps the Colour offends you. What Colour is more +becoming Christians than that which was given to all in Baptism? It has +been said also, _Take a white Garment_; so that this Garment puts me in +Mind of what I promised in Baptism, that is, the perpetual Study of +Innocency. And besides, if you call that Solitude which is only a +retiring from the Crowd, we have for this the Example, not only of our +own, but of the ancient Prophets, the _Ethnick_ Philosophers, and all +that had any Regard to the keeping a good Conscience. Nay, Poets, +Astrologers, and Persons devoted to such-like Arts, whensoever they take +in Hand any Thing that's great and beyond the Sphere of the common +People, commonly betake themselves to a Retreat. But why should you call +this Kind of Life Solitude? The Conversation of one single Friend drives +away the Taedium of Solitude. I have here more than sixteen Companions, +fit for all Manner of Conversation. And besides, I have Friends who +come to visit me oftner than I would have them, or is convenient Do I +then, in your Opinion, live melancholy? + +_Sol._ But you cannot always have these to talk with. + +_Cart._ Nor is it always expedient: For Conversation is the pleasanter, +for being something interrupted. + +_Sol._ You don't think amiss; for even to me myself, Flesh relishes much +better after Lent. + +_Cart._ And more than that, when I seem to be most alone, I don't want +Companions, which are by far more delightful and entertaining than those +common Jesters. + +_Sol._ Where are they? + +_Cart._ Look you, here are the four Evangelists. In this Book he that so +pleasantly commun'd with the two Disciples in the Way going to _Emaus_, +and who by his heavenly Discourse caus'd them not to be sensible of the +Fatigue of their Journey, but made their Hearts burn within them with a +divine Ardour of hearing his sweet Words, holds Conversation with me. In +this I converse with _Paul_, with _Isaiah_, and the rest of the +Prophets. Here the most sweet _Chrysostom_ converses with me, and +_Basil_, and _Austin_, and _Jerome_, and _Cyprian_, and the rest of the +Doctors that are both learned and eloquent. Do you know any such +pleasant Companions abroad in the World, that you can have Conversation +with? Do you think I can be weary of Retirement, in such Society as +this? And I am never without it. + +_Sol._ But they would speak to me to no Purpose, who do not understand +them. + +_Cart._ Now for our Diet, what signifies it with what Food this Body of +ours is fed which is satisfied with very little, if we live according to +Nature? Which of us two is in the best Plight? You who live upon +Partridges, Pheasants and Capons; or I who live upon Fish? + +_Sol._ If you had a Wife as I have, you would not be so lusty. + +_Cart._ And for that Reason, any Food serves us, let it be never so +little. + +_Sol._ But in the mean Time, you live the Life of a _Jew_. + +_Cart._ Forbear Reflections: If we cannot come up to Christianity, at +least we follow after it. + +_Sol._ You put too much Confidence in Habits, Meats, Forms of Prayer, +and outward Ceremonies, and neglect the Study of Gospel Religion. + +_Cart._ It is none of my Business to judge what others do: As to myself, +I place no Confidence in these Things, I attribute nothing to them; but +I put my Confidence in Purity of Mind, and in _Christ_ himself. + +_Sol._ Why do you observe these Things then? + +_Cart._ That I may be at Peace with my Brethren, and give no Body +Offence. I would give no Offence to any one for the Sake of these +trivial Things, which it is but a very little Trouble to observe. As we +are Men, let us wear what Cloaths we will. Men are so humoursome, the +Agreement or Disagreement in the most minute Matters, either procures or +destroys Concord. The shaving of the Head, or Colour of the Habit does +not indeed, of themselves, recommend me to God: But what would the +People say, if I should let my Hair grow, or put on your Habit? I have +given you my Reasons for my Way of Life; now, pray, in your Turn, give +me your Reasons for yours, and tell me, were there no good Physicians in +your Quarter, when you listed yourself for a Soldier, leaving a young +Wife and Children at Home, and was hired for a pitiful Pay to cut Men's +Throats, and that with the Hazard of your own Life too? For your +Business did not lie among Mushrooms and Poppies, but armed Men. What do +you think is a more unhappy Way of living, for a poor Pay, to murder a +Fellow Christian, who never did you Harm, and to run yourself Body and +Soul into eternal Damnation? + +_Sol._ Why, it is lawful to kill an Enemy. + +_Cart._ Perhaps it may be so, if he invades your native Country: Nay, +and it is pious too, to fight for your Wife, Children, your Parents and +Friends, your Religion and Liberties, and the publick Peace. But what is +all that to your fighting for Money? If you had been knocked on the +Head, I would not have given a rotten Nut to redeem the very Soul of +you. + +_Sol._ No? + +_Cart._ No, by Christ, I would not. Now which do you think is the harder +Task, to be obedient to a good Man, which we call Prior, who calls us to +Prayers, and holy Lectures, the Hearing of the saving Doctrine, and to +sing to the Glory of God: Or, to be under the Command of some barbarous +Officer, who often calls you out to fatiguing Marches at Midnight, and +sends you out, and commands you back at his Pleasure, exposes you to the +Shot of great Guns, assigns you a Station where you must either kill or +be killed? + +_Sol._ There are more Evils than you have mentioned yet. + +_Cart._ If I shall happen to deviate from the Discipline of my Order, my +Punishment is only Admonition, or some such slight Matter: But in War, +if you do any Thing contrary to the General's Orders, you must either be +hang'd for it, or run the Gantlope; for it would be a Favour to have +your Head cut off. + +_Sol._ I can't deny what you say to be true. + +_Cart._ And now your Habit bespeaks, that you han't brought much Money +Home, after all your brave Adventures. + +_Sol._ As for Money, I have not had a Farthing this good While; nay, I +have gotten a good Deal into Debt, and for that Reason I come hither out +of my Way, that you might furnish me with some Money to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I wish you had come out of your Way hither, when you hurried +yourself into that wicked Life of a Soldier. But how come you so bare? + +_Sol._ Do you ask that? Why, whatsoever I got of Pay, Plunder, +Sacrilege, Rapine and Theft, was spent in Wine, Whores and Gaming. + +_Cart._ O miserable Creature! And all this While your Wife, for whose +Sake God commanded you to leave Father and Mother, being forsaken by +you, sat grieving at Home with her young Children. And do you think this +is Living, to be involved in so many Miseries, and to wallow in so great +Iniquities? + +_Sol._ The having so many Companions of my Wickedness, made me +insensible of my Evil. + +_Cart._ But I'm afraid your Wife won't know you again. + +_Sol._ Why so? + +_Cart._ Because your Scars have made you the Picture of quite another +Man. What a Trench have you got here in your Forehead? It looks as if +you had had a Horn cut out. + +_Sol._ Nay, if you did but know the Matter, you would congratulate me +upon this Scar. + +_Cart._ Why so? + +_Sol._ I was within a Hair's Breadth of losing my Life. + +_Cart._ Why, what Mischief was there? + +_Sol._ As one was drawing a Steel Cross-bow, it broke, and a Splinter of +it hit me in the Forehead. + +_Cart._ You have got a Scar upon your Cheek that is above a Span long. + +_Sol._ I got this Wound in a Battel. + +_Cart._ In what Battel, in the Field? + +_Sol._ No, but in a Quarrel that arose at Dice. + +_Cart._ And I see I can't tell what Sort of Rubies on your Chin. + +_Sol._ O they are nothing. + +_Cart._ I suspect that you have had the Pox. + +_Sol._ You guess very right, Brother. It was the third Time I had that +Distemper, and it had like to have cost me my Life. + +_Cart._ But how came it, that you walk so stooping, as if you were +ninety Years of Age; or like a Mower, or as if your Back was broke? + +_Sol._ The Disease has contracted my Nerves to that Degree. + +_Cart._ In Truth you have undergone a wonderful Metamorphosis: Formerly +you were a Horseman, and now of a Centaur, you are become a Kind of +semi-reptile Animal. + +_Sol._ This is the Fortune of War. + +_Cart._ Nay, 'tis the Madness of your own Mind. But what Spoils will you +carry Home to your Wife and Children? The Leprosy? for that Scab is only +a Species of the Leprosy; and it is only not accounted so, because it +is the Disease in Fashion, and especially among Noblemen: And for this +very Reason, it should be the more carefully avoided. And now you will +infect with it those that ought to be the dearest to you of any in the +World, and you yourself will all your Days carry about a rotten Carcass. + +_Sol._ Prithee, Brother, have done chiding me. I have enough upon me +without Chiding. + +_Cart._ As to those Calamities, I have hitherto taken Notice of, they +only relate to the Body: But what a Sort of a Soul do you bring back +with you? How putrid and ulcered? With how many Wounds is that sore? + +_Sol._ Just as clean as a _Paris_ common Shore in _Maburtus_'s Road, or +a common House of Office. + +_Cart._ I am afraid it stinks worse in the Nostrils of God and his +Angels. + +_Sol._ Well, but I have had Chiding enough, now speak to the Matter, of +something to bear my Charges. + +_Cart._ I have nothing to give you, but I'll go and try what the Prior +will do. + +_Sol._ If any Thing was to be given, your Hands would be ready to +receive it; but now there are a great many Difficulties in the Way, when +something is to be paid. + +_Cart._ As to what others do, let them look to that, I have no Hands, +either to give or take Money: But we'll talk more of these Matters after +Dinner, for it is now Time to sit down at Table. + + + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy sets forth the Disposition and Nature of a + Liar, who seems to be born to lie for crafty Gain. A Liar + is a Thief. Gain got by Lying, is baser than that which + is got by a Tax upon Urine. An egregious Method of + deceiving is laid open. Cheating Tradesmen live better + than honest ones._ + + +_PHILETYMUS and PSEUDOCHEUS._ + +_Phil._ From what Fountain does this Flood of Lies flow? + +_Pseud._ From whence do Spiders Webs proceed? + +_Phil._ Then it is not the _Product_ of Art, but of Nature. + +_Pseud._ The Seeds indeed proceed from Nature; but Art and Use have +enlarg'd the Faculty. + +_Phil._ Why, are you not asham'd of it? + +_Pseud._ No more than a Cuckow is of her Singing. + +_Phil._ But you can alter your Note upon every Occasion. The Tongue of +Man was given him to speak the Truth. + +_Pseud._ Ay, to speak those Things that tend to his Profit: The Truth is +not to be spoken at all Times. + +_Phil._ It is sometimes for a Man's Advantage to have pilfering Hands; +and the old Proverb is a Witness, that that is a Vice that is +Cousin-German to yours of Lying. + +_Pseud._ Both these Vices are supported by good Authorities: One has +_Ulysses_, so much commended by _Homer_, and the other has _Mercury_, +that was a God, for its Example, if we believe the Poets. + +_Phil._ Why then do People in common curse Liars, and hang Thieves? + +_Pseud._ Not because they lie or steal, but because they do it +bunglingly or unnaturally, not rightly understanding the Art. + +_Phil._ Is there any Author that teaches the Art of Lying? + +_Pseud._ Your Rhetoricians have instructed in the best Part of the Art. + +_Phil._ These indeed present us with the Art of well speaking. + +_Pseud._ True: and the good Part of speaking well, is to lie cleverly. + +_Phil._ What is clever Lying? + +_Pseud._ Would you have me define it? + +_Phil._ I would have you do it. + +_Pseud._ It is to lie so, that you may get Profit by it, and not be +caught in a Lie. + +_Phil._ But a great many are caught in lying every Day. + +_Pseud._ That's because they are not perfect Masters of the Art. + +_Phil._ Are you a perfect Master in it? + +_Pseud._ In a Manner. + +_Phil._ See, if you can tell me a Lie, so as to deceive me. + +_Pseud._ Yes, best of Men, I can deceive you yourself, if I have a Mind +to it. + +_Phil._ Well, tell me some Lie or other then. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told one already, and did you not catch me in it? + +_Phil._ No. + +_Pseud._ Come on, listen attentively; now I'll begin to lie then. + +_Phil._ I do listen attentively; tell one. + +_Pseud._ Why, I have told another Lie, and you have not caught me. + +_Phil._ In Truth, I hear no Lie yet. + +_Pseud._ You would have heard some, if you understood the Art. + +_Phil._ Do you shew it me then. + +_Pseud._ First of all, I call'd you the best of Men, is not that a +swinging Lie, when you are not so much as good? And if you were good, +you could not be said to be the best, there are a thousand others better +than you. + +_Phil._ Here, indeed, you have deceiv'd me. + +_Pseud._ Well, now try if you can catch me again in another Lie. + +_Phil._ I cannot. + +_Pseud._ I want to have you shew that Sharpness of Wit, that you do in +other Things. + +_Phil._ I confess, I am deficient. Shew me. + +_Pseud._ When I said, now I will begin to lie, did I not tell you a +swinging Lie then, when I had been accustomed to lie for so many Years, +and I had also told a Lie, just the Moment before. + +_Phil._ An admirable Piece of Witchcraft. + +_Pseud._ Well, but now you have been forewarn'd, prick up your Ears, +listen attentively, and see if you can catch me in a Lie. + +_Phil._ I do prick them up; say on. + +_Pseud._ I have said already, and you have imitated me in lying. + +_Phil._ Why, you'll persuade me I have neither Ears nor Eyes by and by. + +_Pseud._ When Mens Ears are immoveable, and can neither be prick'd up +nor let down, I told a Lie in bidding you prick up your Ears. + +_Phil._ The whole Life of Man is full of such Lies. + +_Pseud._ Not only such as these, O good Man, for these are but Jokes: +But there are those that bring Profit. + +_Phil._ The Gain that is got by Lying, is more sordid, than that which +is got by laying a Tax on Urine. + +_Pseud._ That is true, I own; but then 'tis to those that han't the Art +of lying. + +_Phil._ What Art is this that you understand? + +_Pseud._ It is not fit I should teach you for nothing; pay me, and you +shall hear it. + +_Phil._ I will not pay for bad Arts. + +_Pseud._ Then will you give away your Estate? + +_Phil._ I am not so mad neither. + +_Pseud._ But my Gain by this Art is more certain than yours from your +Estate. + +_Phil._ Well, keep your Art to yourself, only give me a Specimen that I +may understand that what you say is not all Pretence. + +_Pseud._ Here's a Specimen for you: I concern myself in all Manner of +Business, I buy, I sell, I receive, I borrow, I take Pawns. + +_Phil._ Well, what then? + +_Pseud._ And in these Affairs I entrap those by whom I cannot easily be +caught. + +_Phil._ Who are those? + +_Pseud._ The soft-headed, the forgetful, the unthinking, those that live +a great Way off, and those that are dead. + +_Phil._ The Dead, to be sure, tell no Tales. + +_Pseud._ If I sell any Thing upon Credit, I set it down carefully in my +Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ And what then? + +_Pseud._ When the Money is to be paid, I charge the Buyer with more than +he had. If he is unthinking or forgetful, my Gain is certain. + +_Phil._ But what if he catches you? + +_Pseud._ I produce my Book of Accounts. + +_Phil._ What if he informs you, and proves to your Face he has not had +the Goods you charge him with? + +_Pseud._ I stand to it stiffly; for Bashfulness is altogether an +unprofitable Qualification in this Art. My last Shift is, I frame some +Excuse or other. + +_Phil._ But when you are caught openly? + +_Pseud._ Nothing's more easy, I pretend my Servant has made a Mistake, +or I myself have a treacherous Memory: It is a very pretty Way to jumble +the Accounts together, and this is an easy Way to impose on a Person: As +for Example, some are cross'd out, the Money being paid, and others have +not been paid; these I mingle one with another at the latter End of the +Book, nothing being cross'd out. When the Sum is cast up, we contend +about it, and I for the most Part get the better, tho' it be by +forswearing myself. Then besides, I have this Trick, I make up my +Account with a Person when he is just going a Journey, and not prepared +for the Settling it. For as for me, I am always ready. If any Thing be +left with me, I conceal it, and restore it not again. It is a long Time +before he can come to the Knowledge of it, to whom it is sent; and, +after all, if I can't deny the receiving of a Thing, I say it is lost, +or else affirm I have sent that which I have not sent, and charge it +upon the Carrier. And lastly, if I can no Way avoid restoring it, I +restore but Part of it. + +_Phil._ A very fine Art. + +_Pseud._ Sometimes I receive Money twice over, if I can: First at Home, +afterwards there where I have gone, and I am every where. Sometimes +Length of Time puts Things out of Remembrance: The Accounts are +perplexed, one dies, or goes a long Journey: And if nothing else will +hit, in the mean Time I make Use of other People's Money. I bring some +over to my Interest, by a Shew of Generosity, that they may help me out +in lying; but it is always at other People's Cost; of my own, I would +not give my own Mother a Doit. And tho' the Gain in each Particular may +be but small; but being many put together, makes a good round Sum; for +as I said, I concern myself in a great many Affairs; and besides all, +that I may not be catch'd, as there are many Tricks, this is one of the +chief. I intercept all the Letters I can, open them, and read them. If +any Thing in them makes against me, I destroy them, or keep them a long +Time before I deliver them: And besides all this, I sow Discord between +those that live at a great Distance one from another. + +_Phil._ What do you get by that? + +_Pseud._ There is a double Advantage in it. First of all, if that is not +performed that I have promised in another Person's Name, or in whose +Name I have received any Present, I lay it to this or that Man's Door, +that it was not performed, and so these Forgeries I make turn to a +considerable Account. + +_Phil._ But what if he denies it? + +_Pseud._ He's a great Way off, as suppose at _Basil_; and I promise to +give it in _England._ And so it is brought about, that both being +incensed, neither will believe the one the other, if I accuse them of +any Thing. Now you have a Specimen of my Art. + +_Phil._ But this Art is what we Dullards call Theft; who call a Fig a +Fig, and a Spade a Spade. + +_Pseud._ O Ignoramus in the Law! Can you bring an Action of Theft for +Trover or Conversion, or for one that having borrow'd a Thing forswears +it, that puts a Trick upon one, by some such Artifice? + +_Phil._ He ought to be sued for Theft. + +_Pseud._ Do but then see the Prudence of Artists. From these Methods +there is more Gain, or at least as much, and less Danger. + +_Phil._ A Mischief take you, with your cheating Tricks and Lies, for I +han't a Mind to learn 'em. Good by to ye. + +_Pseud._ You may go on, and be plagu'd with your ragged Truth. In the +mean Time, I'll live merrily upon my thieving, lying Tricks, with Slight +of Hand. + + + + +_The SHIPWRECK._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + Naufragium _exposes the Dangers of those that go to Sea; + the various and foolish Superstition of Mariners. An + elegant Description of a Storm. They indeed run a Risque + that throw their valuable Commodities into the Sea. + Mariners impiously invoke the Virgin_ Mary, _St._ + Christopher, _and the Sea itself. Saints are not to be + pray'd to, but God alone._ + + +ANTONY _and_ ADOLPH. + +_Ant._ You tell dreadful Stories: Is this going to Sea? God forbid that +ever any such Thing should come into my Mind. + +_Adol._ That which I have related, is but a Diversion, in Comparison to +what you'll hear presently. + +_Ant._ I have heard Calamities enough already, my Flesh trembles to hear +you relate them, as if I were in Danger myself. + +_Adol._ But Dangers that are past, are pleasant to be thought on. One +thing happen'd that Night, that almost put the Pilot out of all Hopes of +Safety. + +_Ant._ Pray what was that? + +_Adol._ The Night was something lightish, and one of the Sailors was got +into the Skuttle (so I think they call it) at the Main-Top-Mast, looking +out if he could see any Land; a certain Ball of Fire began to stand by +him, which is the worst Sign in the World to Sailors, if it be single; +but a very good one, if double. The Antients believed these to be +_Castor_ and _Pollux_. + +_Ant._ What have they to do with Sailors, one of which was a Horseman, +and the other a Prize-Fighter? + +_Adol._ It was the Pleasure of Poets, so to feign. The Steersman who sat +at the Helm, calls to him, Mate, says he, (for so Sailors call one +another) don't you see what a Companion you have by your Side? I do see, +says he, and I pray that he may be a lucky one. By and by this fiery +Ball glides down the Ropes, and rolls itself over and over close to the +Pilot. + +_Ant._ And was not he frighted out of his Wits? + +_Adol._ Sailors are us'd to terrible Sights. It stopp'd a little there, +then roll'd itself all round the Sides of the Ship; after that, slipping +through the Hatches, it vanished away. About Noon the Storm began to +increase. Did you ever see the _Alps_? + +_Ant._ I have seen them. + +_Adol._ Those Mountains are Mole Hills, if they be compar'd to the Waves +of the Sea. As oft as we were toss'd up, one might have touch'd the Moon +with his Finger; and as oft as we were let fall down into the Sea, we +seem'd to be going directly down to Hell, the Earth gaping to receive +us. + +_Ant._ O mad Folks, that trust themselves to the Sea! + +_Adol._ The Mariners striving in Vain with the Storm, at length the +Pilot, all pale as Death comes to us. + +_Ant._ That Paleness presages some great Evil. + +_Adol._ My Friends, says he, I am no longer Master of my Ship, the Wind +has got the better of me; all that we have now to do is to place our +Hope in God, and every one to prepare himself for Death. + +_Ant._ This was cold Comfort. + +_Adol._ But in the first Place, says he, we must lighten the Ship; +Necessity requires it, tho' 'tis a hard Portion. It is better to +endeavour to save our Lives with the Loss of our Goods, than to perish +with them. The Truth persuaded, and a great many Casks of rich +Merchandize were thrown over-Board. _Ant._ This was casting away, +according to the Letter. + +_Adol._ There was in the Company, a certain _Italian_, that had been +upon an Embassy to the King of _Scotland_. He had a whole Cabinet full +of Plate, Rings, Cloth, and rich wearing Apparel. + +_Ant._ And he, I warrant ye, was unwilling to come to a Composition with +the Sea. + +_Adol._ No, he would not; he had a Mind either to sink or swim with his +beloved Riches. + +_Ant._ What said the Pilot to this? + +_Adol._ If you and your Trinkets were to drown by yourselves, says he, +here's no Body would hinder you; but it is not fit that we should run +the Risque of our Lives, for the Sake of your Cabinet: If you won't +consent, we'll throw you and your Cabinet into the Sea together. + +_Ant._ Spoken like a Tarpawlin. + +_Adol._ So the Italian submitted, and threw his Goods over-Board, with +many a bitter Curse to the Gods both above and below, that he had +committed his Life to so barbarous an Element. + +_Ant._ I know the Italian Humour. + +_Adol._ The Winds were nothing the less boisterous for our Presents, but +by and by burst our Cordage, and threw down our Sails. + +_Ant._ Lamentable! + +_Adol._ Then the Pilot comes to us again. + +_Ant._ What, with another Preachment? + +_Adol._ He gives us a Salute; my Friends, says he, the Time exhorts us +that every one of us should recommend himself to God, and prepare for +Death. Being ask'd by some that were not ignorant in Sea Affairs, how +long he thought the Ship might be kept above Water, he said, he could +promise nothing, but that it could not be done above three Hours. + +_Ant._ This was yet a harder Chapter than the former. + +_Adol._ When he had said this, he orders to cut the Shrouds and the Mast +down by the Board, and to throw them, Sails and all, into the Sea. + +_Ant._ Why was this done? + +_Adol._ Because, the Sail either being gone or torn, it would only be a +Burden, but not of Use; all our Hope was in the Helm. + +_Ant._ What did the Passengers do in the mean Time? + +_Adol._ There you might have seen a wretched Face of Things; the +Mariners, they were singing their _Salve Regina_, imploring the Virgin +Mother, calling her the Star of the Sea, the Queen of Heaven, the Lady +of the World, the Haven of Health, and many other flattering Titles, +which the sacred Scriptures never attributed to her. + +_Ant._ What has she to do with the Sea, who, as I believe, never went a +Voyage in her Life? + +_Adol._ In ancient Times, _Venus_ took Care of Mariners, because she was +believ'd to be born of the Sea and because she left off to take Care of +them, the Virgin Mother was put in her Place, that was a Mother, but not +a Virgin. + +_Ant._ You joke. + +_Adol._ Some were lying along upon the Boards, worshipping the Sea, +pouring all they had into it, and flattering it, as if it had been some +incensed Prince. + +_Ant._ What did they say? + +_Adol._ O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! O +most beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff they +sung to the deaf Ocean. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous Superstition! What did the rest do? + +_Adol._ Some did nothing but spew, and some made Vows. There was an +_Englishman_ there, that promis'd golden Mountains to our Lady of +_Walsingham_, so he did but get ashore alive. Others promis'd a great +many Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; others +again, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by the +Virgin _Mary_, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think the +Vow is of no Effect, unless the Place be mentioned. + +_Ant._ Ridiculous! As if the Saints did not dwell in Heaven. + +_Adol._ Some made Promises to become _Carthusians_. There was one who +promised he would go a _Pilgrimage_ to St. _James_ at _Compostella_, +bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging his +Bread all the Way. + +_Ant._ Did no Body make any Mention of St. _Christopher_? + +_Adol._ Yes, I heard one, and I could not forbear laughing, who bawling +out aloud, lest St. _Christopher_ should not hear him, promised him, who +is at the Top of a Church at _Paris_, rather a Mountain than a Statue, a +wax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over and +over as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on the +Elbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if you +should sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay for +it. He answer'd him softly, lest St. _Christopher_ should hear him, you +Fool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe to +Shore, I would not give him so much as a tallow Candle. + +_Ant._ O Blockhead! I fancy he was a _Hollander_. + +_Adol._ No, he was a _Zealander_. + +_Ant._ I wonder no Body thought of St. _Paul_, who has been at Sea, and +having suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquainted +with the Distress, knows how to pity those that are in it. + +_Adol._ He was not so much as named. + +_Ant._ Were they at their Prayers all the While? + +_Adol._ Ay, as if it had been for a Wager. One sung his _Hail Queen_; +another, _I believe in God_. There were some who had certain particular +Prayers not unlike magical Charms against Dangers. + +_Ant._ How Affliction makes Men religious! In Prosperity we neither +think of God nor Saint. But what did you do all this While? Did you not +make Vows to some Saints? + +_Adol._ No, none at all. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ I make no Bargains with Saints. For what is this but a Bargain +in Form? I'll give you, if you do so and so; or I will do so and so, if +you do so and so: I'll give you a wax Taper, if I swim out alive; I'll +go to _Rome_, if you save me. + +_Ant._ But did you call upon none of the Saints for Help? + +_Adol._ No, not so much as that neither. + +_Ant._ Why so? + +_Adol._ Because Heaven is a large Place, and if I should recommend my +Safety to any Saint, as suppose, to St. _Peter_, who perhaps, would hear +soonest, because he stands at the Door; before he can come to God +Almighty, or before he could tell him my Condition, I may be lost. + +_Ant._ What did you do then? + +_Adol._ I e'en went the next Way to God the Father, saying, _Our Father +which art in Heaven_. There's none of the Saints hears sooner than he +does, or more readily gives what is ask'd for. + +_Ant._ But in the mean Time did not your Conscience check you? Was you +not afraid to call him Father, whom you had offended with so many +Wickednesses? + +_Adol._ To speak ingenuously, my Conscience did a little terrify me at +first, but I presently took Heart again, thus reasoning with myself; +There is no Father so angry with his Son, but if he sees him in Danger +of being drowned in a River or Pond, he will take him, tho' it be by the +Hair of the Head, and throw him out upon a Bank. There was no Body among +them all behaved herself more composed than a Woman, who had a Child +sucking at her Breast. + +_Ant._ What did she do? + +_Adol._ She only neither bawl'd, nor wept, nor made Vows, but hugging +her little Boy, pray'd softly. In the mean Time the Ship dashing ever +and anon against the Ground, the Pilot being afraid she would be beat +all to Pieces, under-girded her with Cables from Head to Stern. + +_Ant._ That was a sad Shift! + +_Adol._ Upon this, up starts an old Priest about threescore Years of +Age, his Name was _Adam_. He strips himself to his Shirt, throws away +his Boots and Shoes, and bids us all in like Manner to prepare ourselves +for swimming. Then standing in the middle of the Ship, he preach'd a +Sermon to us, upon the five Truths of the Benefit of Confession, and +exhorted every Man to prepare himself, for either Life or Death. There +was a _Dominican_ there too, and they confess'd those that had a Mind to +it. + +_Ant._ What did you do? + +_Adol._ I seeing that every thing was in a Hurry, confess'd privately to +God, condemning before him my Iniquity, and imploring his Mercy. + +_Ant._ And whither should you have gone, do you think, if you had +perished? + +_Adol._ I left that to God, who is my Judge; I would not be my own +Judge. But I was not without comfortable Hopes neither. While these +Things were transacting, the Steersman comes to us again all in Tears; +Prepare your selves every one of you, says he, for the Ship will be of +no Service to us for a quarter of an Hour. For now she leak'd in several +Places. Presently after this he brings us Word that he saw a Steeple a +good Way off, and exhorts us to implore the Aid of that Saint, whoever +it was, who had the protection of that Temple. They all fall down and +pray to the unknown Saint. + +_Ant._ Perhaps he would have heard ye, if ye had call'd upon him by his +Name. + +_Adol._ But that we did not know. In the mean Time the Pilate steers the +Ship, torn and leaking every where, and ready to fall in Pieces, if she +had not been undergirt with Cables, as much as he could toward that +Place. + +_Ant._ A miserable Condition. + +_Adol._ We were now come so near the Shoar, that the Inhabitants of the +Place could see us in Distress, and ran down in Throngs to the utmost +Edge of the Shoar, and holding up Gowns and Hats upon Spears, invited us +to make towards them, and stretching out their Arms towards Heaven, +signified to us that they pitied our Misfortune. + +_Ant._ I long to know what happened. + +_Adol._ The Ship was now every where full of Water, that we were no +safer in the Ship than if we had been in the Sea. + +_Ant._ Now was your Time to betake yourself to divine Help. + +_Adol._ Ay, to a wretched one. The Sailors emptied the Ship's Boat of +Water, and let it down into the Sea. Every Body was for getting into it, +the Mariners cry'd out amain, they'll sink the Boat, it will not hold so +many; that every one should take what he could get, and swim for it. +There was no Time now for long Deliberation. One gets an Oar, another a +Pole, another a Gutter, another a Bucket, another a Plank, and every one +relying upon their Security, they commit themselves to the Billows. + +_Ant._ But what became of the Woman that was the only Person that made +no Bawling? + +_Adol._ She got to Shoar the first of them all. + +_Ant._ How could she do that? + +_Adol._ We set her upon a broad Plank, and ty'd her on so fast that she +could not easily fall off, and we gave her a Board in her Hand to make +Use of instead of an Oar, and wishing her good Success, we set her +afloat, thrusting her off from the Ship with Poles, that she might be +clear of it, whence was the greatest Danger. And she held her Child in +her left Hand, and row'd with her right Hand. + +_Ant._ O _Virago_! + +_Adol._ Now when there was nothing else left, one pull'd up a wooden +Image of the Virgin _Mary_, rotten, and rat-eaten, and embracing it in +his Arms, try'd to swim upon it. + +_Ant._ Did the Boat get safe to Land? + +_Adol._ None perish'd sooner than they that were in that, and there were +above thirty that had got into it. + +_Ant._ By what bad Accident was that brought about? + +_Adol._ It was overset by the rolling of the Ship, before they could get +clear of it. + +_Ant._ A sad Accident: But how then? + +_Adol._ While I was taking Care for others, I had like to have been lost +myself. + +_Ant._ How so? + +_Adol._ Because there was nothing left that was fit for swimming. + +_Ant._ There Corks would have been of good Use. + +_Adol._ In that Condition I would rather have had a sorry Cork than a +gold Candlestick. I look'd round about me, at Length I bethought myself +of the Stump of the Mast, and because I could not get it out alone, I +took a Partner; upon this we both plac'd ourselves, and committed +ourselves to the Sea. I held the right End, and my Companion the left +End. While we lay tumbling and tossing, the old preaching Sea-Priest +threw himself upon our Shoulders. He was a huge Fellow. We cry out, +who's that third Person? He'll drown us all. But he very calmly bids us +be easy, for there was Room enough, God will be with us. + +_Ant._ How came he to be so late? + +_Adol._ He was to have been in the Boat with the _Dominican_. For they +all paid him this Deference. But tho' they had confess'd themselves in +the Ship, yet having forgotten I know not what Circumstances, they +confess'd over again at the Ship-Side, and each lays his Hand upon the +other, and while this was doing the Boat was over-turn'd. This I had +from _Adam_ himself. + +_Ant._ What became of the _Dominican_? + +_Adol._ As the same Man told me, having implor'd the Help of his Saints, +and stript himself, he threw himself naked into the Sea. + +_Ant._ What Saints did he call upon? + +_Adol._ St. _Dominick_, St. _Thomas_, St. _Vincent_, and one of the +_Peters_, but I can't tell which: But his chief Reliance was upon +_Catherinea Senensis_. + +_Ant._ Did he not remember _Christ_? + +_Adol._ Not, as the old Priest told me. + +_Ant._ He would have swam better if he had thrown off his sanctified +Coul: But if that had been laid aside, how should _Catherine_ of _Siena_ +have known him? But go on and tell me about yourself. + +_Adol._ While we were yet tumbling and tossing near the Ship, which +roll'd hither and thither at the Mercy of the Waves, the Thigh of him +that held the left End of the Stump of the Mast was broken by a great +Spike, and so that made him let go his Hold. The old Priest wishing him +everlasting Rest, took his Place, encouraging me to maintain my Post on +the right Hand resolutely, and to strike out my Feet stoutly. In the +mean Time we drank in abundance of salt Water. For _Neptune_ had +provided us not only a salt Bath, but a salt Potion too, altho' the old +Priest prescribed a Remedy for it. + +_Ant._ What was that? + +_Adol._ Why, as often as a Billow met us, he turn'd his Head and shut +his Mouth. + +_Ant._ You tell me of a brave old Fellow. + +_Adol._ When we had been some Time swimming at this Rate, and had made +some Way, the old Priest being a very tall Man, cries out, Be of good +Heart, I feel Ground; but I durst not hope for such a Blessing. No, no, +says I, we are too far from Shoar to hope to feel Ground. Nay, says he, +I feel the Ground with my Feet. Said I, perhaps it is some of the Chests +that have been roll'd thither by the Sea. Nay, says he, I am sure I feel +Ground by the Scratching of my Toes. Having floated thus a little +longer, and he had felt the Bottom again, Do you do what you please, +says he, I'll leave you the whole Mast, and wade for it. And so he took +his Opportunity, at the Ebbing of the Billows, he made what Haste he +could on his Feet, and when the Billows came again, he took Hold of his +Knees with his Hands, and bore up against the Billows, hiding himself +under them as Sea Gulls and Ducks do, and at the Ebbing of the Wave, he +would start up and run for it. I seeing that this succeeded so well to +him, followed his Example. There stood upon the Shoar Men, who had long +Pikes handed from one to another, which kept them firm against the Force +of the Waves, strong bodied Men, and accustom'd to the Waves, and he +that was last of them held out a Pike to the Person swimming towards +him. All that came to Shoar, and laying hold of that, were drawn safely +to dry Land. Some were sav'd this Way. + +_Ant._ How many? + +_Adol._ Seven. But two of these fainted away being brought to the Fire. + +_Ant._ How many were in the Ship? + +_Adol._ Fifty-eight. + +_Ant._ O cruel Sea. At least it might have been content with the Tithes, +which are enough for Priests. Did it restore so few out of so great a +Number? + +_Adol._ There we had Experience of the wonderful Humanity of the Nation, +that supply'd us with all Necessaries with exceeding Chearfulness; as +Lodging, Fire, Victuals, Cloaths, and Money to bear our Charges when we +went away. + +_Ant._ What Country was it? + +_Adol. Holland._ + +_Ant._ There's no Nation more human, altho' they are encompass'd with +such fierce Nations. I fancy you won't be for going to Sea again. + +_Adol._ No, unless God shall please to deprive me of my Reason. + +_Ant._ I would rather hear such Stories than feel them. + + + + +_DIVERSORIA._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the various Customs of Nations and + their Civility in treating Strangers. An Inn at_ Leyden + _where are nothing but Women. The Manners of the_ French + _Inns, who are us'd to tell Stories, and break Jests. + The_ Germans, _far more uncivil in treating Travellers, + being rude, and wholly inhospitable: The Guests look + after their own Horses: The Method of receiving them into + the Stove: They provide no Supper, till they know how + many Guests they shall have: All that come that Night, + sit down to Supper together: All pay alike, tho' one + drinks twice as much Wine as another does._ + + +BERTULPH and WILLIAM. + +_Bert._ I wonder what is the Fancy of a great many, for staying two or +three Days at _Lyons_? When I have once set out on a Journey, I an't at +Rest till I come to my Journey's End. + +_Will._ Nay, I wonder as much, that any Body can get away from thence. + +_Bert._ But why so? + +_Will._ Because that's a Place the Companions of _Ulysses_ could not +have got away from. There are _Sirens_. No Body is better entertain'd at +his own House, than he is there at an Inn. + +_Bert._ What is done there? + +_Will._ There's a Woman always waiting at Table, which makes the +Entertainment pleasant with Railleries, and pleasant Jests. And the +Women are very handsome there. First the Mistress of the House came and +bad us Welcome, and to accept kindly what Fare we should have; after +her, comes her Daughter, a very fine Woman, of so handsome a Carriage, +and so pleasant in Discourse, that she would make even _Cato_ himself +merry, were he there: And they don't talk to you as if you were perfect +Strangers, but as those they have been a long Time acquainted with, and +familiar Friends. + +_Bert._ O, I know the _French_ Way of Civility very well. + +_Will._ And because they can't be always with you, by Reason of the +other Affairs of the House, and the welcoming of other Guests, there +comes a Lass, that supplies the Place of the Daughter, till she is at +Leisure to return again. This Lass is so well instructed in the Knack of +Repartees, that she has a Word ready for every Body, and no Conceit +comes amiss to her. The Mother, you must know, was somewhat in Years. + +_Bert._ But what was your Table furnish'd with? For Stories fill no +Bellies. + +_Will._ Truly, so splendid, that I was amaz'd that they could afford to +entertain their Guests so, for so small a Price. And then after Dinner, +they entertain a Man with such facetious Discourse, that one cannot be +tired; that I seemed to be at my own House, and not in a strange Place. + +_Bert._ And how went Matters in your Chambers? + +_Will._ Why, there was every where some pretty Lass or other, giggling +and playing wanton Tricks? They ask'd us if we had any foul Linnen to +wash; which they wash and bring to us again: In a word, we saw nothing +there but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they would +every now and then run in there too. When you go away, they embrace ye, +and part with you with as much Affection, as if you were their own +Brothers, or near Kinsfolks. + +_Bert._ This Mode perhaps may become the _French_, but methinks the Way +of the _Germans_ pleases me better, which is more manly. + +_Will._ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much to +tell how they entertain a Traveller. + +_Bert._ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same +every where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guest +welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for +that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German +Gravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one +puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves +till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell: Him you must ask +if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take +it for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where the +Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please +yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be a +noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your +Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those +that shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen. If you find Fault +with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look for +another Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and +sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Care +of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and +all, for that is a common Room for all Comers. + +_Will._ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may +change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have +a Mind to it. + +_Bert._ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off your +Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up +your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself. +There's Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as +for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want +another Water to wash that off. + +_Will._ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy +in them. + +_Bert._ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go +to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten. + +_Will._ Why so? + +_Bert._ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Company +together, that one Trouble may serve for all. + +_Will._ They are for taking the shortest Way. + +_Bert._ You are right; so that oftentimes, there come all together into +the same Stove, eighty or ninety Foot-Men, Horse-Men, Merchants, +Marriners, Waggoners, Husband-Men, Children, Women, sick and sound. + +_Will._ This is having all Things in common. + +_Bert._ There one combs his Head, another wipes off his Sweat, another +cleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and in +short, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as there +was at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body of +another Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they all +stare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal brought +out of _Africa_. And when they are set at Table, and he behind them, +they will be still looking back at him, and be staring him in the Face, +till they have forgot their Suppers. + +_Will._ At _Rome_, _Paris_ or _Venice_, there's no Body thinks any Thing +strange. + +_Bert._ In the mean Time, 'tis a Crime for you to call for any Thing. +When it is grown pretty late, and they don't expect any more Guests, out +comes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and a +crabbed Look, and a slovenly Dress. + +_Will._ Such Fellows ought to be Cup-Bearers to the Cardinals at _Rome_. + +_Bert._ He having cast his Eyes about, counts to himself, how many there +are in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in the +Stove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would be +troublesome; and this with them, is accounted a principal Part of good +Entertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any one +who is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never so +little, that he be not stifled, presently they cry out to shut it again: +If you answer you are not able to bear it, you'll presently hear, get +you another Inn then. + +_Will._ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so many +to draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened with +the Heat; and to eat in the same Place, and to stay there so many Hours, +not to mention the belching of Garlick, the Farting, the stinking +Breaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has its +Contagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it is +call'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And it +is my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there is +from those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of a +Pestilence? + +_Bert._ They are Persons of a strong Constitution, and laugh at, and +disregard those Niceties. + +_Will._ But in the mean Time, they are bold at the Perils of other Men. + +_Bert._ What would you do in this Case? 'Tis what they have been used +to, and it is a Part of a constant Mind, not to depart from a Custom. + +_Will._ And yet, within these five and twenty Years, nothing was more in +Vogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grown +out of Use; but the new Scabbado has taught us to lay them down. + +_Bert._ Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded +_Ganymede_ again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are +Guests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have +been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to +every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their +Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor +or Rich, between the Master and Servant. + +_Will._ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has +driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner +with his Disciples. + +_Bert._ After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd _Ganymede_ +again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again, +and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and +then a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests +may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is +boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour. + +_Will._ Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time? + +_Bert._ None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set +upon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin and +sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests +should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some +where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as +if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they +answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have +lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you +don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen of +their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing +you their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking +Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the +first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a +Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of +Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again, +and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until +their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed +Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of, +and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the +Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their +Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care +that the last Act shall be the best. + +_Will._ This is the Part of a good Poet. + +_Bert._ And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body +should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your +Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length, +out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but +little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and +by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink +most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least. + +_Will._ A strange Temper of the Nation! + +_Bert._ There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay +for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is +wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to +be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in +a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they +are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, +jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon +your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is +a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart +till near Midnight. + +_Will._ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a +tedious one. + +_Bert._ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely +pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old +bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and +semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, +with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some +_Charon_. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money +one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of +those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he +gives you a Nod. + +_Will._ But what if there should be any Thing over and above? + +_Bert._ Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so. + +_Will._ Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning? + +_Bert._ No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow +are you? You pay no more than the rest. + +_Will._ This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of. + +_Bert._ If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed +as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too. + +_Will._ This seems to me to be _Plato_'s City. + +_Bert._ Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing +else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you +can either make Use of or steal. + +_Will._ Are Things very clean there? + +_Bert._ As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six +Months ago. + +_Will._ What becomes of your Horses all this While? + +_Bert._ They are treated after the Manner that the Men are. + +_Will._ But is there the same Treatment every where. + +_Bert._ It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others, +than I have told you; but in general it is thus. + +_Will._ What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in +that Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in +_England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both of +the _French_ and the _Germans_, being a Mixture of those two Nations. +The _Welsh_ boast themselves to be the original _English_. + +_Bert._ Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in +them. + +_Will._ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on +board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time we +shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full. + + + + +_The YOUNG MAN and HARLOT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This is certainly a divine Colloquy, that makes even a + Bawdy-House a chaste Place! God can't be deceiv'd, his + Eyes penetrate into the most secret Places. That young + Persons ought in an especial Manner to take Care of their + Chastity. A young Woman, who made herself common to get a + Livelihood, is recovered from that Course of Life, as + wretched as it is scandalous._ + + +LUCRETIA, SOPHRONIUS. + +_Lu._ O brave! My pretty _Sophronius_, have I gotten you again? It is an +Age methinks since I saw you. I did not know you at first Sight. + +_So._ Why so, my _Lucretia_? + +_Lu._ Because you had no Beard when you went away, but you're come back +with something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you look +duller than you use to do? + +_So._ I want to have a little Talk with you in private. + +_Lu._ Ah, ah, are we not by ourselves already, my Cocky? + +_So._ Let us go out of the Way somewhere, into a more private Place. + +_Lu._ Come on then, we'll go into my inner Bed-Chamber, if you have a +Mind to do any Thing. + +_So._ I don't think this Place is private enough yet. + +_Lu._ How comes it about you're so bashful all on a sudden? Well, come, +I have a Closet where I lay up my Cloaths, a Place so dark, that we can +scarce see one another there. + +_So._ See if there be no Chink. + +_Lu._ There is not so much as a Chink. + +_So._ Is there no Body near to hear us? + +_Lu._ Not so much as a Fly, my Dear; Why do you lose Time? + +_So._ Can we escape the Eye of God here? + +_Lu._ No, he sees all Things clearly. + +_So._ And of the Angels? + +_Lu._ No, we cannot escape their Sight. + +_So._ How comes it about then, that Men are not asham'd to do that in +the Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that they +would be ashamed to do before Men? + +_Lu._ What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preach +a Sermon? Prithee put on a _Franciscan_'s Hood, and get up into a +Pulpit, and then we'll hear you hold forth, my little bearded Rogue. + +_So._ I should not think much to do that, if I could but reclaim you +from this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life in +the World. + +_Lu._ Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one must +live by his Calling. This is my Business; this is all I have to live on. + +_So._ I wish with all my Heart, my _Lucretia_, that setting aside for a +While that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter. + +_Lu._ Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy one +another, my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ You do what you do for the Sake of Gain. + +_Lu._ You are much about the Matter. + +_So._ Thou shalt lose nothing by it, do but hearken to me, and I'll pay +you four Times over. + +_Lu._ Well, say what you have a Mind to say. + +_So._ Answer me this Question in the first Place: Are there any Persons +that owe you any ill Will? + +_Lu._ Not one. + +_So._ Is there any Body that you have a Spleen against? + +_Lu._ According as they deserve. + +_So._ And if you could do any Thing that would gratify them, would you +do it? + +_Lu._ I would poison 'em sooner. + +_So._ But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing that +you can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live this +shameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that would +be more afflicting to them that wish thee well? + +_Lu._ It is my Destiny. + +_So._ Now that which uses to be the greatest Hardship to such as are +transported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, this +you undergo voluntarily. + +_Lu._ What is that? + +_So._ Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections to +Father, Mother, Brother, Sisters, Aunts, (by Father's and Mother's Side) +and all thy Relations? For thou makest them all asham'd to own thee, and +thyself asham'd to come into their Sight. + +_Lu._ Nay, I have made a very happy Exchange of Affections; for instead +of a few, now I have a great many, of which you are one, and whom I have +always esteem'd as a Brother. + +_So._ Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it really +is. Believe me, my _Lucretia_, she who has so many Friends, has never a +one, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House of +Office rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thou +hast brought thyself. _Christ_ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem thee +with his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in an +heavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into which +all the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness. +And if that leprous Infection they call the _French_ Pox han't yet +seiz'd thee, thou wilt not escape it long. And if once thou gettest it, +how miserable wilt thou be, though all things should go favourably on +thy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothing +but a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and now +thou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hear +your Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunken +Fellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work at +Home, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd to +endure, and how late a Nights art thou oblig'd to sit up? + +_Lu._ How came you to be a Preacher? + +_So._ And do but seriously consider, this Flower of thy Beauty that now +brings thee so many Gallants, will soon fade: And then, poor Creature, +what wilt thou do? Thou wilt be piss'd upon by every Body. It may be, +thou thinkest, instead of a Mistress, I'll then be a Bawd. All Whores +can't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is more +impious, and more like the Devil himself? + +_Lu._ Why, indeed, my _Sophronius_, almost all you say is very true. But +how came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be the +greatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither more +frequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you have +been at _Rome_. + +_So._ I have so. + +_Lu._ Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than they +went: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you? + +_So._ I'll tell you, because I did not go to _Rome_ with the same +Intent, and after the same Manner that others do. Others commonly go to +_Rome_, on purpose to come Home worse, and there they meet with a great +many Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, by +whose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The New +Testament with _Erasmus_'s Paraphrase. + +_Lu._ _Erasmus_'s? They say that he's Half a Heretick. + +_So._ Has his Name reached to this Place too? + +_Lu._ There's no Name more noted among us. + +_So._ Did you ever see him? + +_Lu._ No, I never saw him; but I should be glad to see him; I have heard +so many bad Reports of him. + +_So._ It may be you have heard 'em, from them that are bad themselves. + +_Lu._ Nay, from Men of the Gown. + +_So._ Who are they? + +_Lu._ It is not convenient to name Names. + +_So._ Why so? + +_Lu._ Because if you should blab it out, and it should come to their +Ears, I should lose a great many good Cullies. + +_So._ Don't be afraid, I won't speak a Word of it. + +_Lu._ I will whisper then. + +_So._ You foolish Girl, what Need is there to whisper, when there is no +Body but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceive +you're a religious Whore, that relievest Mendicants. + +_Lu._ I get more by them Beggars than by you rich Men. + +_So._ They rob honest Women, to lavish it away upon naughty Strumpets. + +_Lu._ But go on, as to your Book. + +_So._ So I will, and that's best. In that Book, Paul, that can't lie, +told me, that _neither Whores nor Whore-mongers shall obtain the Kingdom +of Heaven_. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It is +but a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yet +I can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinherited +by my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenly +Father should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in the +Case of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is no +Provision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, I +immediately ty'd myself up from all Conversation with lewd Women. + +_Lu._ It will be well if you can hold it. + +_So._ It is a good Step towards Continence, to desire to be so. And last +of all, there is one Remedy left, and that is a Wife. When I was at +_Rome_, I empty'd the whole Jakes of my Sins into the Bosom of a +Confessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind and +Body, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, and +Sobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I should +upon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, _Have Mercy +upon me, O God_: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny to +some poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks he +enjoin'd me so small a Penance, he answer'd me very pleasantly, My Son, +says he, if you truly repent and change your Life, I don't lay much +Stress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lust +itself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priest +impose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with the +Palsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you have +been heretofore. And thus I repented. + +_Lu._ Then as far as I perceive, I have lost my _Sophronius_. + +_So._ Nay, you have rather gain'd him, for he was lost before, and was +neither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, and +longs for the Salvation of thy Soul. + +_Lu._ What would you have me to do then, my _Sophronius_? + +_So._ To leave off that Course of Life out of Hand: Thou art but a Girl +yet, and that Stain that you have contracted may be wip'd off in Time. +Either marry, and I'll give you something toward a Portion, or go into +some Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Place +and get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any of +these. + +_Lu._ My _Sophronius_, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'll +follow thy Advice. + +_So._ But in the mean Time get away from hence. + +_Lu._ Whoo! what so suddenly! + +_So._ Why not to Day rather than to Morrow, if Delays are dangerous? + +_Lu._ Whither shall I go? + +_So._ Get all your Things together, give 'em to me in the Evening, my +Servant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come a +little after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; you +shall live with her some Time upon my Cost till I can provide for you, +and that shall be very quickly. + +_Lu._ Well, my _Sophronius_, I commit myself wholly to thy Management. + +_So._ In Time to come you'll be glad you have done so. + + + + +_The POETICAL FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Poetical Feast teaches the Studious how to banquet. + That Thriftiness with Jocoseness, Chearfulness without + Obscenity, and learned Stories, ought to season their + Feasts. Iambics are bloody. Poets are Men of no great + Judgment. The three chief Properties of a good Maid + Servant. Fidelity, Deformity, and a high Spirit. A Place + out of the Prologue of_ Terence's Eunuchus _is + illustrated. Also_ Horace's _Epode to_ Canidia. _A Place + out of_ Seneca. Aliud agere, nihil agere, male agere. _A + Place out of the Elenchi of_ Aristotle _is explain'd. A + Theme poetically varied, and in a different Metre. + Sentences are taken from Flowers and Trees in the Garden. + Also some Verses are compos'd in_ Greek. + + +HILARY, LEONARD, CRATO, GUESTS, MARGARET, CARINUS, EUBULUS, SBRULIUS, +PARTHENIUS, MUS, _Hilary_'s Servant. + +Hi. _Levis apparatus, animus est lautissimus._ + +Le. _Caenam sinistro es auspicatus omine._ + +Hi. _Imo absit omen triste. Sed cur hoc putas?_ + +Le. _Cruenti Iambi haud congruent convivio._ + +Hi. _I have but slender Fare, but a very liberal Mind._ + +Le. _You have begun the Banquet with a bad Omen._ + +Hi. _Away with bad Presages. But why do you think so?_ + +Le. _Bloody Iambics are not fit for a Feast._ + +_Cr._ O brave! I am sure the Muses are amongst us, Verses flow so from +us, when we don't think of 'em. + + _Si rotatiles trochaeos mavelis, en, accipe: + Vilis apparatus heic est, animus est lautissimus._ + +If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you: +Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind. + +Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels, +they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever. O Melons! +Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden. These are creeping +Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Wits +would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens? + +_Cr._ If a Man may be allow'd to speak Truth at a Poetic Banquet, those +you call Lettuces are Beets. + +_Hi._ God forbid. + +_Cr._ It is as I tell you. See the Shape of 'em, and besides where is +the milky Juice? Where are their soft Prickles? + +_Hi._ Truly you make me doubt. Soho, call the Wench. _Margaret_, you +Hag, what did you mean to give us Beets instead of Lettuces? + +_Ma._ I did it on Purpose. + +_Hi._ What do you say, you Witch? + +_Ma._ I had a Mind to try among so many Poets if any could know a +Lettuce from a Beet. For I know you don't tell me truly who 'twas that +discover'd 'em to be Beets. + +_Guests._ _Crato_. + +_Ma._ I thought it was no Poet who did it. + +_Hi._ If ever you serve me so again, I'll call you _Blitea_ instead of +_Margarita_. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha. + +_Ma._ Your calling me will neither make me fatter nor leaner. He calls +me by twenty Names in a Day's Time: When he has a Mind to wheedle me, +then I'm call'd _Galatea, Euterpe, Calliope, Callirhoe, Melissa, Venus, +Minerva_, and what not? When he's out of Humour at any Thing, then +presently I'm _Tisiphone_, _Megaera_, _Alecto_, _Medusa_, _Baucis_, and +whatsoever comes into his Head in his mad Mood. + +_Hi._ Get you gone with your Beets, _Blitea_. + +_Ma._ I wonder what you call'd me for. + +_Hi._ That you may go whence you came. + +_Ma._ 'Tis an old Saying and a true, 'tis an easier Matter to raise the +Devil, than 'tis to lay him. + +_Gu._ Ha, ha, ha: Very well said. As the Matter is, _Hilary_, you stand +in Need of some magic Verse to lay her with. + +_Hi._ I have got one ready. + +[Greek: Pheugete, kantharides lukos agrios umme diokei.] + +Be gone ye Beetles, for the cruel Wolf pursues you. + +_Ma._ What says _AEsop?_ + +_Cr._ Have a Care, _Hilary_, she'll hit you a Slap on the Face: This is +your laying her with your _Greek_ Verse. A notable Conjurer indeed! + +_Hi._ _Crato_, What do you think of this Jade? I could have laid ten +great Devils with such a Verse as this. + +_Ma._ I don't care a Straw for your _Greek_ Verses. + +_Hi._ Well then, I must make use of a magical Spell, or, if that won't +do, _Mercury's_ Mace. + +_Cr._ My _Margaret_, you know we Poets are a Sort of Enthusiasts, I +won't say Mad-Men; prithee let me intreat you to let alone this +Contention 'till another Time, and treat us with good Humour at this +Supper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ What does he trouble me with his Verses for? Often when I am to go +to Market he has never a Penny of Money to give me, and yet he's a +humming of Verses. + +_Cr._ Poets are such Sort of Men. But however, prithee do as I say. + +_Ma._ Indeed I will do it for your Sake, because I know you are an +honest Gentleman, that never beat your Brain about such Fooleries. I +wonder how you came to fall into such Company. + +_Cr._ How come you to think so? + +_Ma._ Because you have a full Nose, sparkling Eyes, and a plump Body. +Now do but see how he leers and sneers at me. + +_Cr._ But prithee, Sweet-Heart, keep your Temper for my Sake. + +_Ma._ Well, I will go, and 'tis for your Sake and no Body's else. + +_Hi._ Is she gone? + +_Ma._ Not so far but she can hear you. + +_Mus._ She is in the Kitchen, now, muttering something to herself I +can't tell what. + +_Cr._ I'll assure you your Maid is not dumb. + +_Hi._ They say a good Maid Servant ought especially to have three +Qualifications; to be honest, ugly, and high-spirited, which the Vulgar +call evil. An honest Servant won't waste, an ugly one Sweet-Hearts won't +woo, and one that is high-spirited will defend her Master's Right; for +sometimes there is Occasion for Hands as well as a Tongue. This Maid of +mine has two of these Qualifications, she's as ugly as she's surly; as +to her Honesty I can't tell what to say to that. + +_Cr._ We have heard her Tongue, we were afraid of her Hands upon your +Account. + +_Hi._ Take some of these Pompions: We have done with the Lettuces. For I +know if I should bid her bring any Lettuces, she would bring Thistles. +Here are Melons too, if any Body likes them better. Here are new Figs +too just gather'd, as you may see by the Milk in the Stalks. It is +customary to drink Water after Figs, lest they clog the Stomach. Here is +very cool clear Spring Water that runs out of this Fountain, that is +good to mix with Wine. + +_Cr._ But I can't tell whether I had best to mix Water with my Wine, or +Wine with Water; this Wine seems to me so likely to have been drawn out +of the Muses Fountain. + +_Hi._ Such Wine as this is good for Poets to sharpen their Wits. You +dull Fellows love heavy Liquors. + +_Cr._ I wish I was that happy _Crassus_. + +_Hi._ I had rather be _Codrus_ or _Ennius_. And seeing I happen to have +the Company of so many learned Guests at my Table, I won't let 'em go +away without learning something of 'em. There is a Place in the Prologue +of _Eunuchus_ that puzzles many. For most Copies have it thus: + + _Sic existimet, sciat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quid laesit prior, + Qui bene vertendo, et ects describendo male, &c. + +Let him so esteem or know, that it is an Answer, not a common Saying; +because he first did the Injury, who by well translating and ill +describing them, &c._ + +In these Words I want a witty Sense, and such as is worthy of _Terence_. +For he did not therefore do the Wrong first, because he translated the +_Greek_ Comedies badly, but because he had found Fault with _Terence's._ + +Eu. According to the old Proverb, _He that sings worst let him begin +first._ When I was at _London_ in _Thomas Linacre's_ House, who is a Man +tho' well skill'd in all Manner of Philosophy, yet he is very ready in +all Criticisms in Grammar, he shew'd me a Book of great Antiquity which +had it thus: + + _Sic existimet, stiat, + Responsum, non dictum esse, quale sit prius + Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, + Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas: + Idem Menandri Phasma nunc nuper dedit._ + +The Sentence is so to be ordered, that _quale sit_ may shew that an +Example of that which is spoken before is to be subjoin'd. He threatened +that he would again find Fault with something in his Comedies who had +found Fault with him, and he here denies that it ought to seem a +Reproach but an Answer. He that provokes begins the Quarrel; he that +being provok'd, replies, only makes his Defence or Answer. He promises +to give an Example thereof, _quale sit_, being the same with [Greek: +oion] in _Greek_, and _quod genus, veluti_, or _videlicet_, or _puta_ in +Latin. Then afterwards he brings a reproof, wherein the Adverb _prius_ +hath Relation to another Adverb, as it were a contrary one, which +follows, _viz. nuper_ even as the Pronoun _qui_ answers to the Word +_idem_. For he altogether explodes the old Comedies of _Lavinius_, +because they were now lost out of the Memory of Men. In those which he +had lately published, he sets down the certain Places. I think that this +is the proper Reading, and the true Sense of the Comedian: If the chief +and ordinary Poets dissent not from it. + +_Gu._ We are all entirely of your Opinion. + +_Eu._ But I again desire to be inform'd by you of one small and very +easy Thing, how this Verse is to be scann'd. + + _Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Scan it upon your Fingers. + +_Hi._ I think that according to the Custom of the Antients _s_ is to be +cut off, so that there be an _Anapaestus_ in the second Place. + +_Eu._ I should agree to it, but that the Ablative Case ends in _is_, and +is long by Nature. Therefore though the Consonant should be taken away, +yet nevertheless a long Vowel remains. + +_Hi._ You say right. + +_Cr._ If any unlearned Person or Stranger should come in, he would +certainly think we were bringing up again among ourselves the +Countrymens Play of holding up our Fingers (_dimicatione digitorum_, +_i.e._ the Play of Love). + +_Le._ As far as I see, we scan it upon our Fingers to no Purpose. Do you +help us out if you can. + +_Eu._ To see how small a Matter sometimes puzzles Men, though they be +good Scholars! The Preposition _ex_ belongs to the End of the foregoing +Verse. + + _Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, ex + Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas._ + +Thus there is no Scruple. + +_Le._ It is so, by the Muses. Since we have begun to scan upon our +Fingers, I desire that somebody would put this Verse out of _Andria_ +into its Feet. + + Sine invidia laudem invenias, et amicos pares. + +For I have often tri'd and could do no good on't. + +_Le. Sine in_ is an Iambic, _vidia_ an Anapaestus, _Laudem in_ is a +Spondee, _venias_ an Anapaestus, _et ami_ another Anapaestus. + +_Ca._ You have five Feet already, and there are three Syllables yet +behind, the first of which is long; so that thou canst neither make it +an _Iambic_ nor a _Tribrach._ + +_Le._ Indeed you say true. We are aground; who shall help us off? + +_Eu._ No Body can do it better than he that brought us into it. Well, +_Carinus_, if thou canst say any Thing to the Matter, don't conceal it +from your poor sincere Friends. + +_Ca._ If my Memory does not fail me, I think I have read something of +this Nature in _Priscian_, who says, that among the Latin Comedians _v_ +Consonant is cut off as well as the Vowel, as oftentimes in this Word +_enimvero;_ so that the part _enime_ makes an Anapaestus. + +_Le._ Then scan it for us. + +_Ca._ I'll do it. _Sine inidi_ is a proseleusmatic Foot, unless you had +rather have it cut off _i_ by Syneresis, as when _Virgil_ puts _aureo_ +at the End of an heroick Verse for _auro._ But if you please let there +be a Tribrach in the first Place, _a lau_ is a Spondee, _d'inveni_ a +Dactyl, _as et a_ a Dactyl, _micos_ a Spondee, _pares_ an Iambic. + +_Sb. Carinus_ hath indeed got us out of these Briars. But in the same +Scene there is a Place, which I can't tell whether any Body has taken +Notice of or not. + +_Hi._ Prithee, let us have it. + +_Sb._ There _Simo_ speaks after this Manner. + + Sine ut eveniat, quod volo, + In Pamphilo ut nihil sit morae, restat Chremes. + +_Suppose it happen, as I desire, that there be no delay in_ Pamphilus; +Chremes _remains._ + +What is it that troubles you in these Words? + +_Sb. Sine_ being a Term of Threatning, there is nothing follows in this +Place that makes for a Threatning. Therefore it is my Opinion that the +Poet wrote it, + + _Sin eveniat, quod volo;_ + +that _Sin_ may answer to the _Si_ that went before. + +_Si propter amorem uxorem nolit ducere._ + +For the old Man propounds two Parts differing from one another: _Si, &c. +If_ Pamphilus _for the Love of_ Glycerie _refuseth to marry, I shall +have some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then it +remains that I must intreat_ Chremes. Moreover the Interruption of +_Sosia_, and _Simo_'s Anger against _Davus_ made too long a +Transposition of the Words. + +_Hi._ _Mouse_, reach me that Book. + +_Cr._ Do you commit your Book to a Mouse? + +_Hi._ More safely than my Wine. Let me never stir, if _Sbrulius_ has not +spoken the Truth. + +_Ca._ Give me the Book, I'll shew you another doubtful Place. This Verse +is not found in the Prologue of _Eunuchus_: + +_Habeo alia multa, quae nunc condonabuntur._ + +_I have many other Things, which shall now be delivered._ + +Although the _Latin_ Comedians especially take great Liberty to +themselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don't remember that they any +where conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read +_Condonabitur_ impersonally, or _Condonabimus_, changing the Number of +the Person. + +_Ma._ Oh, this is like Poets Manners indeed! As soon as ever they are +set down to Dinner they are at Play, holding up their Fingers, and +poring upon their Books. It were better to reserve your Plays and your +Scholarship for the second Course. + +_Cr. Margaret_ gives us no bad Counsel, we'll humour her; when we have +fill'd our Bellies, we'll go to our Play again; now we'll play with our +Fingers in the Dish. + +_Hi._ Take Notice of Poetick Luxury. You have three Sorts of Eggs, +boil'd, roasted, and fry'd; they are all very new, laid within these two +Days. + +_Par._ I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shall +like 'em very well. + +_Hi._ Boy, go ask _Margaret_ what they are fry'd in. + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in neither. + +_Hi._ What! neither in Butter nor Oil. In what then? + +_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in Lye. + +_Cr._ She has given you an Answer like your Question. What a great +Difficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil. + +_Ca._ Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a +Beet. + +_Hi._ Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time. +Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting? + +_Mo._ Yes, a great many Things. + +_Hi._ These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat. + +_Mo._ What Sauce would you have? + +_Hi._ Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded. + +_Mo._ I'll tell her, Sir. + +_Hi._ What, do you come back empty-handed? + +_Mo._ She says, Juice is not used to be squeez'd out of Vine Tendrels. + +_Le._ A fine Maid Servant, indeed! + +_Sb._ Well, we'll season our Eggs with pleasant Stories. I found a Place +in the Epodes of _Horace_, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wrong +interpreted, and not only by _Mancinellus_, and other later Writers; but +by _Porphyry_ himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings a +Recantation to the Witch _Canidia_. + + _tuusque venter pactumeius, et tuo + cruore rubros obstetrix pannos lavit, + utcunque fortis exilis puerpera._ + +For they all take _exilis_ to be a Noun in this Place, when it is a +Verb. I'll write down _Porphyry_'s Words, if we can believe 'em to be +his: She is _exilis_, says he, under that Form, as though she were +become deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a natural +Leanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive that +the Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourth +Place admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she did +indeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed long +after her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lusty +lying-in Women used to do. + +_Hi._ We thank you _Sbrulius_, for giving us such fine Sauce to our +Eggs. + +_Le._ There is another Thing in the first Book of _Odes_ that is not +much unlike this. The _Ode_ begins thus: _Tu ne quae sieris._ Now the +common Reading is thus, _Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut melius +quicquid erit pati_. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, as +if there were no Difficulty in it. Only _Mancinettus_ thinking the +Sentence imperfect, bids us add _possis_. + +_Sb._ Have you any Thing more that is certain about this Matter? + +_Le._ I don't know whether I have or no; but in my Opinion, _Horace_ +seems here to have made Use of the _Greek_ Idiom; and this he does more +than any other of the Poets. For it is a very common Thing with the +_Greeks_, to join an infinitive Mood with the Word [Greek: hos] and +[Greek: hoste]. And so _Horace_ uses _ut pati_, for _ut patiaris_: +Although what _Mancinellus_ guesses, is not altogether absurd. + +_Hi._ I like what you say very well. Run, _Mouse_, and bring what is to +come, if there be any Thing. + +_Cr._ What new dainty Dish is this? + +_Hi._ This is a Cucumber sliced; this is the Broth of the Pulp of a +Gourd boil'd, it is good to make the Belly loose. + +_Sb._ Truly a medical feast. + +_Hi._ Take it in good Part. There's a Fowl to come out of our Hen-Coop. + +_Sb._ We will change thy Name, and call thee _Apicius_, instead of +_Hilary_. + +_Hi._ Well, laugh now as much as you will, it may be you'll highly +commend this Supper to Morrow. + +_Sb._ Why so? + +_Hi._ When you find that your Dinner has been well season'd. + +_Sb._ What, with a good Stomach? + +_Hi._ Yes, indeed. + +_Cr._ _Hilary_, do you know what Task I would have you take upon you? + +_Hi._ I shall know when you have told me. + +_Cr._ The Choir sings some Hymns, that are indeed learned ones; but are +corrupted in many Places by unlearned Persons. I desire that you would +mend 'em; and to give you an Example, we sing thus: + + _Hostis Herodes impie, + Christum venire quid times?_ + + _Thou wicked Enemy_ Herod, _why dost thou dread the Coming + of Christ?_ + +The mis-placing of one Word spoils the Verse two Ways. For the Word +_hostis_, making a Trochee, has no Place in an _Iambick Verse_, and +_Hero_ being a _Spondee_ won't stand in the second Place. Nor is there +any doubt but the Verse at first was thus written, + + _Herodes hostis impie._ + +For the Epithete _impie_ better agrees with _Hostis_ than with _Herod_. +Besides _Herodes_ being a _Greek_ Word [Greek: e or ae] is turned into +[Greek: e] in the vocative; as [Greek: Sokrataes, o Sokrates]; and so +[Greek: Agamemnon [Transcribers Note: this word appears in Greek with +the o represented by the character omega.]] in the nominative Case is +turned into _[Greek: o]_. So again we sing the Hymn, + + _Jesu corona virginum, + Quem mater ilia concepit, + Quae sola virgo parturit. + + O Jesus the Crown of Virgins, + Whom she the Mother conceiv'd, + Which was the only Person of a Virgin that brought forth._ + +There is no Doubt but the Word should be pronounc'd _concipit._ For the +Change of the Tense sets off a Word. And it is ridiculous for us to +find Fault with _concipit_ when _parlurit_ follows. + +_Hi._ Truly I have been puzzled at a great many such Things; nor will it +be amiss, if hereafter we bestow a little Time upon this Matter. For +methinks _Ambrose_ has not a little Grace in this Kind of Verse, for he +does commonly end a Verse of four Feet with a Word of three Syllables, +and commonly places a _caesura_ in the End of a Word. It is so common +with him that it cannot seem to have been by Chance. If you would have +an Example, _Deus Creator_. Here is a _Penthemimeris_, it follows, +_omnium; Polique rector_, then follows, _vestiens; diem decoro_, and +then _lumine; noctem soporis_, then follows _gratia_. + +_Hi._ But here's a good fat Hen that has laid me Eggs, and hatch'd me +Chickens for ten Years together. + +_Cr._ It is Pity that she should have been kill'd. + +_Ca._ If it were fit to intermingle any Thing of graver Studies, I have +something to propose. + +_Hi._ Yes, if it be not too crabbed. + +_Ca._ That it is not. I lately began to read _Seneca's_ Epistles, and +stumbled, as they say, at the very Threshold. The Place is in the first +Epistle; _And if_, says he, _thou wilt but observe it, great Part of our +Life passes away while we are doing what is ill; the greatest Part, +while we are doing nothing, and the whole of it while we are doing that +which is to no Purpose_. In this Sentence, he seems to affect I can't +tell what Sort of Witticism, which I do not well understand. + +_Le._ I'll guess, if you will. + +_Ca._ Do so. + +_Le._ No Man offends continually. But, nevertheless, a great Part of +one's Life is lost in Excess, Lust, Ambition, and other Vices; but a +much greater Part is lost in doing of nothing. Moreover they are said to +do nothing, not who live in Idleness, but they who are busied about +frivolous Things which conduce nothing at all to our Happiness: And +thence comes the Proverb, _It is better to be idle, than to be doing, +but to no Purpose_. But the whole Life is spent in doing another Thing. +He is said, _aliud agere_, who does not mind what he is about. So that +the whole of Life is lost: Because when we are vitiously employ'd we are +doing what we should not do; when we are employ'd about frivolous +Matters we do that we should not do; and when we study Philosophy, in +that we do it negligently and carelesly, we do something to no Purpose. +If this Interpretation don't please you, let this Sentence of _Seneca_ +be set down among those Things of this Author that _Aulus Gellius_ +condemns in this Writer as frivolously witty. + +_Hi._ Indeed I like it very well. But in the mean Time, let us fall +manfully upon the Hen. I would not have you mistaken, I have no more +Provision for you. It agrees with what went before. _That is the basest +Loss that comes by Negligence_, and he shews it by this Sentence +consisting of three Parts. But methinks I see a Fault a little after: +_We foresee not Death, a great Part of it is past already._ It is my +Opinion it ought to be read; _We foresee Death._ For we foresee those +Things which are a great Way off from us, when Death for the most Part +is gone by us. + +_Le._ If Philosophers do sometimes give themselves Leave to go aside +into the Meadows of the Muses, perhaps it will not be amiss for us, if +we, to gratify our Fancy, take a Turn into their Territories. + +_Hi._ Why not? + +_Le._ As I was lately reading over again _Aristotle_'s Book that he +entitles [Greek: Peri ton elenchon], the Argument of which is for the +most Part common both to Rhetoricians and Philosophers, I happen'd to +fall upon some egregious Mistakes of the Interpreters. And there is no +Doubt but that they that are unskill'd in the _Greek_ have often miss'd +it in many Places. For _Aristotle_ proposes a Sort of such Kind of +Ambiguity as arises from a Word of a contrary Signification. [Greek: ho +ti manthanousin oi epistamenoi ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oi +grammatikoi to gar manthanein omonymon, to te xunienai chromenon te +episteme, kai to lambanein ten epistemen.] And they turn it thus. +_Because intelligent Persons learn; for Grammarians are only +tongue-learn'd; for to learn is an equivocal Word, proper both to him +that exerciseth and to him that receiveth Knowledge._ + +_Hi._ Methinks you speak _Hebrew_, and not _English_. + +_Le._ Have any of you heard any equivocal Word? + +_Hi._ No. + +_Le._ What then can be more foolish than to desire to turn that which +cannot possibly be turn'd. For although the _Greek_ Word [Greek: +manthanein], signifies as much as [Greek: mathein] and [Greek: +matheteuein], so among the _Latins_, _discere_, to learn, signifies as +much as _doctrinam accipere_, or _doctrinam tradere._ But whether this +be true or no I can't tell. I rather think [Greek: manthanein], is of +doubtful Signification with the _Greeks_, as _cognoscere_ is among the +_Latins._ For he that informs, and the Judge that learns, both of them +know the Cause. And so I think among the _Greeks_ the Master is said +[Greek: manthanein] whilst he hears his Scholars, as also the Scholars +who learn of him. But how gracefully hath he turn'd that [Greek: ta gar +apostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi], _nam secundum os +grammatici discunt: For the Grammarians are tongue-learn'd_; since it +ought to be translated, _Nam grammatici, quae dictitant, docent: +Grammarians teach what they dictate_. Here the Interpreters ought to +have given another Expression, which might not express the same Words, +but the same Kind of Thing. Tho' I am apt to suspect here is some Error +in the _Greek_ Copy, and that it ought to be written [Greek: homonumon +to te xunienai kai to lambanein]. And a little after he subjoins another +Example of Ambiguity, which arises not from the Diversity of the +Signification of the same Word, but from a different Connection, [Greek: +to boulesthai labein me tous polemious], _velleme accipere pugnantes. To +be willing that I should receive the fighting Men_: For so he translates +it, instead of _velle me capere hostes, to be willing that I take the +Enemies;_ and if one should read [Greek: boulesthe], it is more +perspicuous. _Vultis ut ego capiam hostes? Will ye that I take the +Enemies?_ For the Pronoun may both go before and follow the Verb +_capere_. If it go before it, the Sense will be this, _Will ye that I +take the Enemies?_ If it follows, then this will be the Sense, _Are ye +willing that the Enemies should take me?_ He adds also another Example +of the same Kind, [Greek: ara ho tis ginoskei, touto ginoskei]. i.e. _An +quod quis novit hoc novit._ The Ambiguity lies in [Greek: touto]. If it +should be taken in the accusative Case, the Sense will be this; +_Whatsoever it is that any Body knows, that Thing he knows to be._ But +if in the nominative Case, the Sense will be this, _That Thing which any +Body knows, it knows;_ as though that could not be known that knows not +again by Course. Again he adds another Example. [Greek: apa ho tis hora, +touto hora; hora de ton kiona hoste hora ho kion]. _That which any one +sees, does that Thing see; but he sees a Post, does the Post therefore +see?_ The Ambiguity lies again in [Greek: touto], as we shew'd before. +But these Sentences may be render'd into _Latin_ well enough; but that +which follows cannot possibly by any Means be render'd, [Greek: Ara ho +sy phes einai, touto sy phes einai; phes de lithon einai sy ara phes +lithos einai]. Which they thus render, _putas quod tu dicis esse, hoc tu +dicis esse: dicis autem lapidem esse, tu ergo lapis dicis esse._ Pray +tell me what Sense can be made of these Words? For the Ambiguity lies +partly in the Idiom of the _Greek_ Phrase, which is in the major and +minor. Although in the major there is another Ambiguity in the two Words +[Greek: o] and [Greek: touto], which if they be taken in the nominative +Case, the Sense will be, _That which thou sayest thou art, that thou +art._ But if in the accusative Case the Sense will be, _Whatsoever thou +sayst is, that thou sayst is;_ and to this Sense he subjoins [Greek: +lithon phes einai], but to the former Sense he subjoins [Greek: sy ara +phes lithos einai]. _Catullus_ once attempted to imitate the Propriety +of the _Greek_ Tongue: + + _Phaselus iste, quem videtis, hospites, + Ait fuisse navium celerrimus. + + My Guests, that Gally which you see + The most swift of the Navy is, says he._ + +For so was this Verse in the old Edition. Those who write Commentaries +on these Places being ignorant of this, must of Necessity err many Ways. +Neither indeed can that which immediately follows be perspicuous in the +_Latin_. [Greek: Kai ara eoti sigonta legein; ditton gar esti to sigonta +legein, to te ton legonta sigan, kai to ta legomena.] That they have +render'd thus; _Et putas, est tacentem dicere? Duplex enim est, tacentem +dicere; et hunc dicere tacentem, et quae dicuntur._ Are not these Words +more obscure than the Books of the _Sibyls_? + +_Hi._ I am not satisfy'd with the _Greek_. + +_Le._ I'll interpret it as well as I can. _Is it possible for a Man to +speak while he is silent?_ This Interrogation has a two-Fold Sense, the +one of which is false and absurd, and the other may be true; for it +cannot possibly be that he who speaks, should not speak what he does +speak; that is that he should be silent while he is speaking; but it is +possible, that he who speaks may be silent of him who speaks. Although +this Example falls into another Form that he adds a little after. And +again, I admire, that a little after, in that kind of Ambiguity that +arises from more Words conjoin'd, the _Greeks_ have chang'd the Word +_Seculum_ into the Letters, [Greek: epistasthai ta grammata], seeing +that the _Latin_ Copies have it, _scire seculum_. For here arises a +double Sense, either _that the Age itself might know something_, or +_that somebody might know the Age_. But this is an easier Translation of +it into [Greek: aiona] or [Greek: kosmon], than into [Greek: grammata]. +For it is absurd to say that Letters know any Thing; but it is no +absurdity to say, _something is known to our Age_, or _that any one +knows his Age_. And a little after, where he propounds an Ambiguity in +the Accent, the Translator does not stick to put _Virgil's_ Words +instead of _Homer's_, when there was the same Necessity in that Example, +_quicquid dicis esse, hoc est_, _What thou sayst is, it is_. _Aristotle_ +out of _Homer_ says, [Greek: ou kataputhetai ombro], if [Greek: ou] +should be aspirated and circumflected, it sounds in _Latin_ thus; _Cujus +computrescit pluvia_; _by whose Rain it putrifies_; but if [Greek: ou] +be acuted and exile, it sounds, _Non computrescit pluvia; it does not +putrify with Rain_; and this indeed is taken out of the _Iliad_ [Greek: +ps]. Another is, [Greek: didomen de oi euchos aresthai]: the Accent +being placed upon the last Syllable but one, signifies, _grant to him_; +but plac'd upon the first Syllable [Greek: didomen], signifies, _we +grant_. But the Poet did not think _Jupiter_ said, _we grant to him_; +but commands the Dream itself to grant him, to whom it is sent to obtain +his Desire. For [Greek: didomen], is used for [Greek: didonai]. For +these two of _Homer_, these two are added out of our Poets; as that out +of the Odes of _Horace_. + + _Me tuo longas pereunte noctes, + Lydia, dormis._ + +For if the Accent be on _me_ being short, and _tu_ be pronounc'd short, +it is one Word _metuo_; that is, _timeo, I am afraid_: Although this +Ambiguity lies not in the Accent only, but also arises from the +Composition. + +They have brought another Example out of _Virgil_: + + _Heu quia nam tanti cinxerunt aethera nymbi!_ + +Although here also the Ambiguity lies in the Composition. + +_Hi._ _Leonard_, These Things are indeed Niceties, worthy to be known; +but in the mean Time, I'm afraid our Entertainment should seem rather a +Sophistical one, than a Poetical one: At another Time, if you please, +we'll hunt Niceties and Criticisms for a whole Day together. + +_Le._ That is as much as to say, we'll hunt for Wood in a Grove, or seek +for Water in the Sea. + +_Hi._ Where is my Mouse? + +_Mou._ Here he is. + +_Hi._ Bid _Margaret_ bring up the Sweet-Meats. + +_Mus._ I go, Sir. + +_Hi._ What! do you come again empty-handed? + +_Mus._ She says, she never thought of any Sweet-Meats, and that you have +sat long enough already. + +_Hi._ I am afraid, if we should philosophize any longer, she'll come and +overthrow the Table, as _Xantippe_ did to _Socrates_; therefore it is +better for us to take our Sweet-Meats in the Garden; and there we may +walk and talk freely; and let every one gather what Fruit he likes best +off of the Trees. + +_Guests._ We like your Motion very well. + +_Hi._ There is a little Spring sweeter than any Wine. + +_Ca._ How comes it about, that your Garden is neater than your Hall? + +_Hi._ Because I spend most of my Time here. If you like any Thing that +is here, don't spare whatever you find. And now if you think you have +walk'd enough, what if we should sit down together under this Teil Tree, +and rouze up our Muses. + +_Pa._ Come on then, let us do so. + +_Hi._ The Garden itself will afford us a Theme. + +_Pa._ If you lead the Way, we will follow you. + +_Hi._ Well, I'll do so. He acts very preposterously, who has a Garden +neatly trimm'd up, and furnish'd with various Delicacies, and at the +same Time, has a Mind adorn'd with no Sciences nor Virtues. + +_Le._ We shall believe the Muses themselves are amongst us, if thou +shalt give us the same Sentence in Verse. + +_Hi._ That's a great Deal more easy to me to turn Prose into Verse, than +it is to turn Silver into Gold. + +_Le._ Let us have it then: + +_Hi. Cui renidet hortus undiquaque flosculis, + Animumque nullis expolitum dotibus + Squalere patitur, is facit praepostere. + + Whose Garden is all grac'd with Flowers sweet, + His Soul mean While being impolite, + Is far from doing what is meet._ + +Here's Verses for you, without the _Muses_ or _Apollo_; but it will be +very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into +several different Kinds of Verse. + +_Le._ What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory? + +_Hi._ This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or +Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better. + +_Le._ Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill? + +_Hi._ Who shall but _Crato_? And therefore he shall be excused from +versifying, that he may attend the more diligently. + +_Cr._ I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and +Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing +best. + +_Hi._ I like him if the rest do. + +_Gu._ We like our Umpire. Begin, _Leonard_. + +_Le. Cui tot deliciis renidet hortus, + Herbis, fioribus, arborumque foetu, + Et multo et vario, nec excolendum + Curat pectus et artibus probatis, + Et virtutibus, is mihi videtur + Laevo judicio, parumque recto. + + Who that his Garden shine doth mind + With Herbs and Flowers, and Fruits of various kind; + And in mean While, his Mind neglected lies + Of Art and Virtue void, he is not wise._ + +I have said. + +_Hi. Carinus_ bites his Nails, we look for something elaborate from him. + +_Ca._ I'm out of the poetical Vein. + + _Cura cui est, ut niteat hortus flosculis ac foetibus, + Negligenti excolere pectus disciplinis optimis; + Hic labore, mihi ut videtur, ringitur praepostero. + + Whose only Care is that his Gardens be + With Flow'rs and Fruits furnish'd most pleasantly, + But disregards his Mind with Art to grace, + Bestows his Pains and Care much like an Ass._ + +_Hi._ You han't bit your Nails for nothing. + +_Eu._ Well, since my Turn is next, that I may do something, + + _Qui studet ut variis niteat cultissimus hortus + Deliciis, patiens animum squalere, nec ullis + Artibus expoliens, huic est praepostera cura. + + Who cares to have his Garden neat and rare. + And doth of Ornaments his Mind leave bare, + Acts but with a preposterous Care._ + +We have no Need to spur _Sbrulius_ on, for he is so fluent at Verses, +that he oftentimes tumbles 'em out, before he is aware. + +Sb. _Cui vernat hortus cultus et elegans, + Nee pectus uttis artibus excolit; + Praepostera is mra laborat. + Sit ratio tibiprima mentis. + + Who to make his Garden spring, much Care imparts, + And yet neglects his Mind to grace with Arts, + Acts wrong: Look chiefly to improve thy Parts._ + +Pa. _Quisquis accurat, variis ut hortus + Floribus vernet, neque pectus idem + Artibus sanctis colit, hunc habet praepostera cura. + + Who to his Soul prefers a Flower or worse, + May well be said to set the Cart before the Horse._ + +_Hi._ Now let us try to which of us the Garden will afford the most +Sentences. + +_Le._ How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed will +furnish me with what to say. _As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so is +Youth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers; +you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pass not away +without Fruit._ + +_Hi._ It is a Theme very fit for a Verse. + +_Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every one +hath his natural Gift._ + +_Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things for +human Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: So +the Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields a +great many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with various +Vices._ + +_Sb. A Garden ought to be drest every Year, that it may look handsome: +The Mind being once furnish'd with good Learning, does always flourish +and spring forth._ + +_Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off from +honest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek for +such Recreations and Divertisements, as are not contrary to Learning._ + +_Hi._ O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: But +before we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper nor +unprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into _Greek_ Verse, as +often as we have turn'd it into _Latin._ And let _Leonard_ begin, that +has been an old Acquaintance of the _Greek_ Poets. + +_Le._ I'll begin if you bid me. + +_Hi._ I both bid and command you. + +_Le._ [Greek: Hoi kepos estin anthesin gelon kalois, + Ho de nous mal auchmon tois kalois muthemasin, + Ouk esti kompsos outos, ouk orthos phronei, + Peri pleionos poion ta phaul, e kreittona]. + + He never entered Wisdom's Doors + Who delights himself in simple Flowers, + And his foul Soul neglects to cleanse. + This Man knows not what Virtue means. + +I have begun, let him follow me that will. + +_Hi. Carinus._ + +_Ca._ Nay, _Hilary._ + +_Le._ But I see here's _Margaret_ coming upon us of a sudden, she's +bringing I know not what Dainties. + +_Hi._ If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. What +hast brought us? + +_Ma._ Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed to +stand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet you +Poets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness. + +_Cr. Margaret_ says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Home +to Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind of +Contest. + +_Hi._ But who do you give the Prize to? + +_Cr._ For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome but +I. + +_Hi._ How did you overcome that did not contend at all. + +_Cr._ Ye have contended, but not try'd it out. I have overcome _Marget_, +and that is more than any of you could do. + +_Ca. Hilary._ He demands what's his Right, let him have the Basket. + + + + +_An ENQUIRY CONCERNING FAITH._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Inquisition concerning Faith, comprehends the Sum + and Substance of the Catholick Profession. He here + introduces a_ Lutheran _that by the Means of the orthodox + Faith, he may bring either Party to a Reconciliation. + Concerning Excommunication, and the Popes Thunderbolts. + And also that we ought to associate ourselves with the + Impious and Heretical, if we have any Hope of amending + them._ Symbolum _is a military Word. A most divine and + elegant Paraphrase upon the Apostles Creed._ + + +AULUS, BARBATUS. + +_AU._ _Salute freely_, is a Lesson for Children. But I can't tell +whether I should bid you be well or no. + +_Ba._ In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me be +so. _Aulus_, Why do you say that? + +_Au._ Why? Because if you have a Mind to know, you smell of Brimstone, +or _Jupiter's_ Thunderbolt. + +_Ba._ There are mischievous Deities, and there are harmless +Thunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that are +ominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication. + +_Au._ You're right. + +_Ba._ I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt the +Blow of the Thunderbolt. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the less +sound. + +_Au._ But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the less +it is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike the +Mountains and the Seas. + +_Ba._ They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effect +upon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or a +Vessel of Brass. + +_Au._ Why, and that affrights too. + +_Ba._ It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. None +but God has Thunderbolts that strike the Soul. + +_Au._ But suppose God is in his Vicar. + +_Ba._ I wish he were. + +_Au._ A great many Folks admire, that you are not become blacker than a +Coal before now. + +_Ba._ Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were so +much the more to be desired, if Men followed the Doctrine of the Gospel. + +_Au._ It is to be wished indeed, but not to be spoken of. + +_Ba._ Why so? + +_Au._ That he that is smitten with the Thunderbolt may be ashamed and +repent. + +_Ba._ If God had done so by us, we had been all lost. + +_Au._ Why so? + +_Ba._ Because when we were Enemies to God, and Worshippers of Idols, +fighting under Satan's Banner, that is to say, every Way most accursed; +then in an especial Manner he spake to us by his Son, and by his +treating with us restored us to Life when we were dead. + +_Au._ That thou say'st is indeed very true. + +_Ba._ In Truth it would go very hard with all sick Persons, if the +Physician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch was +seized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for the +Assistance of a Doctor. + +_Au._ But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemper +than I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visits +a sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician. + +_Ba._ Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in the +Diseases of the Mind you have an Antidote ready against every Contagion. + +_Au._ What's that? + +_Ba._ A strong Resolution not to be removed from the Opinion that has +been fixed in you. But besides, what Need you fear to become a Fighter, +where the Business is managed by Words? + +_Au._ There is something in what you say, if there be any Hope of doing +any good. + +_Ba._ While there is Life there is Hope, and according to St. _Paul, +Charity can't despair, because it hopes all Things_. + +_Au._ You observe very well, and upon this Hope I may venture to +discourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be a +Physician to you. + +_Ba._ Do, with all my Heart. + +_Au._ Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians are +allowed to be inquisitive after every particular Thing. + +_Ba._ Ask me any Thing that you have a Mind to ask me. + +_Au._ I'll try. But you must promise me you'll answer me sincerely. + +_Ba._ I'll promise you. But let me know what you'll ask me about. + +_Au._ Concerning the Apostles Creed. + +_Ba._ _Symbolum_ is indeed a military Word. I will be content to be +look'd upon an Enemy to Christ, if I shall deceive you in this Matter. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, who made the Heaven +and Earth. + +_Ba._ Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and the +Angels also which are Spirits. + +_Au._ When thou say'st God, what dost thou understand by it? + +_Ba._ I understand a certain eternal Mind, which neither had Beginning +nor shall have any End, than which nothing can be either greater, wiser, +or better. + +_Au._ Thou believest indeed like a good Christian. + +_Ba._ Who by his omnipotent Beck made all Things visible or invisible; +who by his wonderful Wisdom orders and governs all Things; who by his +Goodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankind +when fallen. + +_Au._ These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But what +Benefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them? + +_Ba._ When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly to +him, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels is +nothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teach +to have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done by +him, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, how +impossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrusting +my own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When I +consider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believe +all Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they may +seem to human Sense absurd or unjust. When I animadvert on his Goodness, +I see nothing in myself that I do not owe to free Grace, and I think +there is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a true +Penitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks in +Faith. + +_Au._ Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him to +be so? + +_Ba._ By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust and +Confidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magic +Arts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equalling +nothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife, +nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to lay +down my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possibly +perish who commits himself wholly to him. + +_Au._ What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothing +but God alone? + +_Ba._ If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, it +is for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring all +Things to his Glory, always giving Thanks to him for whatsoever happens, +whether prosperous or adverse, Life or Death. + +_Au._ In Truth your Confession is very sound so far. What do you think +concerning the second Person? + +_Ba._ Examine me. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe Jesus was God and Man? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Could it be that the same should be both immortal God and mortal +Man? + +_Ba._ That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: And +by Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father, +whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, I +attribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owe +also to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father to +bestow all Things on us through him. + +_Au._ Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lord +than God? + +_Ba._ Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, of +Sovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who is +absolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of the +Godhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' the +Father also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God the +Father. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Place +among the divine Persons. + +_Au._ Then dost thou put thy Confidence in _Jesus_? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ But the Prophet calls him accursed who puts his Trust in Man. + +_Ba._ But to this Man alone hath all the Power in Heaven and Earth been +given, that at his Name every Knee should bow, both of Things in Heaven, +Things in Earth, and Things under the Earth. Although I would not put my +chief Confidence and Hope in him, unless he were God. + +_Au._ Why do you call him Son? + +_Ba._ Lest any should imagine him to be a Creature. + +_Au._ Why an only Son? + +_Ba._ To distinguish the natural Son from the Sons by Adoption, the +Honour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for no +other besides this Son. + +_Au._ Why would he have him to be made Man, who was God? + +_Ba._ That being Man, he might reconcile Men to God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he was conceived without the Help of Man, by the +Operation of the holy Ghost, and born of the undented Virgin _Mary_, +taking a mortal Body of her Substance? + +_Ba._ Yes. + +_Au._ Why would he be so born? + +_Ba._ Because it so became God to be born, because it became him to be +born in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of our +Conception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, that +we being regenerated into him, might be made the Sons of God. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he lived here upon Earth, did Miracles, +taught those Things that are recorded to us in the Gospel? + +_Ba._ Ay, more certainly than I believe you to be a Man. + +_Au._ I am not an _Apuleius_ turned inside out, that you should suspect +that an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe this +very Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowed +out, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the _Jews_ looked +for so many Ages? + +_Ba._ I believe nothing more firmly. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead us +to perfect Piety? + +_Ba._ Yes, perfectly sufficient. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that the same was really apprehended by the +_Jews_, bound, buffeted, beaten, spit upon, mock'd, scourg'd under +_Pontius Pilate_; and lastly, nailed to the Cross, and there died? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Do you believe him to have been free from all the Law of Sin +whatsoever? + +_Ba._ Why should I not? A Lamb without Spot. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe he suffered all these Things of his own accord? + +_Ba._ Not only willingly, but even with great Desire; but according to +the Will of his Father. + +_Au._ Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and most +dear to him, suffer all these Things? + +_Ba._ That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who were +guilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name. + +_Au._ Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did suffer +them, was there no other Way to be found out to repair our Fall? + +_Ba._ Not human Reason, but Faith hath persuaded me of this, that it +could be done no Way better nor more beneficially for our Salvation. + +_Au._ Why did this Kind of Death please him best? + +_Ba._ Because in the Esteem of the World it was the most disgraceful, +and because the Torment of it was cruel and lingring, because it was +meet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World unto +Salvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World, +and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenly +Things; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazen +Serpent that _Moses_ set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix his +Eyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfil +the Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, _say ye among the Nations, God +hath reign'd from a Tree_. + +_Au._ Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed with +Myrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard and +natural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen set +there? + +_Ba._ That it might be the more manifest that he was really dead. + +_Au._ Why did he not rise again presently? + +_Ba._ For the very same Reason; for if his Death had been doubtful, his +Resurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be as +certain as possible could be. + +_Au._ Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell? + +_Ba._ St. _Cyprian_ affirms that this Clause was not formerly inserted +either in the _Roman_ Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches, +neither is it recorded in _Tertullian_, a very ancient Writer. And yet +notwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with the +Prophecy of the Psalm, _Thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell_; and again, +_O Lord, thou hast brought my Soul out of Hell_. And also because the +Apostle _Peter_, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of the +Author whereof no Man ever doubted,) writes after this Manner, _Being +put to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also he +came and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison_. But +though I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not suffer +anything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that he +might destroy the Kingdom of Satan. + +_Au._ Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that he +might restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did he +rise to live again? + +_Ba._ For three Reasons especially. + +_Au._ Which are they? + +_Ba._ First of all, to give us an assur'd Hope of our Resurrection. +Secondly, that we might know that he in whom we have plac'd the Safety +of our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that we +being dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him by +Baptism, should by his Grace be raised up again to Newness of Life. + +_Au._ Do you believe that the very same Body that died upon the Cross, +which reviv'd in the Grave, which was seen and handled by the Disciples, +ascended into Heaven? + +_Ba._ Yes, I do. + +_Au._ Why would he leave the Earth? + +_Ba._ That we might all love him spiritually, and that no Man should +appropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equally +lift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Men +now so much please themselves in the Colour and Shape of the Garment, +and do boast so much of the Blood or the Foreskin of Christ, and the +Milk of the Virgin _Mary_, what do you think would have been, had he +abode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would those +Peculiarities of his Body have occasioned? + +_Au._ Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at the +right Hand of the Father? + +_Ba._ Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all his +Father's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and he +presented this Sight to his Martyr _Stephen_. + +_Au._ Why did he shew it? + +_Ba._ That we may not be discouraged in any Thing, well knowing what a +powerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven. + +_Au._ Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judge +the Quick and the Dead? + +_Ba._ As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretold +concerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, that +whatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass. +We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of the +Prophets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. We +shall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory of +his Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and of +every Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, _Greeks_, or _Scythians_, +shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming he +shall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning of +the World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and behold +his Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall be +there as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will, +from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast the +Devil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternal +Punishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief to +any. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to a +Fellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have the +Day of his coming unknown to all. + +_Au._ I hear no Error yet. Let us now come to the third Person. + +_Ba._ As you please. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ I do believe that it is true God, together with the Father, and +the Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and New +Testament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attains +Salvation. + +_Au._ Why is he called a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds are +quicken'd by the secret Inspiration of the holy Spirit. + +_Au._ Is it not lawful to call the Father a Spirit? + +_Ba._ Why not? + +_Au._ Are not then the Persons confounded? + +_Ba._ No, not at all, for the Father is called a Spirit, because he is +without a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according to +their divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because he +breathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even as +the Air breathes from the Land, or the Rivers. + +_Au._ Why is the Name of Son given to the second Person? + +_Ba._ Because of his perfect Likeness of Nature and Will. + +_Au._ Is the Son more like the Father, than the holy Spirit? + +_Ba._ Not according to the divine Nature, except that he resembles the +Property of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds from +him also. + +_Au._ What hinders then, but that the holy Spirit may be called Son. + +_Ba._ Because, as St. _Hilary_ saith, I no where read that he was +begotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the _Spirit, and +that proceeding from_. + +_Au._ Why is the Father alone called God in the Creed? + +_Ba._ Because he, as I have said before, is simply the Author of all +Things that are, and the Fountain of the whole Deity. + +_Au._ Speak in plainer Terms. + +_Ba._ Because nothing can be nam'd which hath not its Original from the +Father: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit is +God, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; therefore +the chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in the +Father alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it may +be so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, but +used in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms of +Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Nature +comprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the three +Persons. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ No. + +_Au._ What say you? Do you not believe in it? + +_Ba._ I believe the holy Church, which is the Body of Christ; that is to +say, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, who +agree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, who +put their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spirit +of him; from whose Fellowship he is cut off that commits a deadly Sin. + +_Au._ But why do you stick to say, I believe in the holy Church? + +_Ba._ Because St. _Cyprian_ hath taught me, that we must believe in God +alone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church, +properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet it +consists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, and +deceive others. + +_Au._ What do you think of the Communion of Saints? + +_Ba._ This Article is not all meddled with by _Cyprian_, when he +particularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used; +for he thus connects them: _For there followeth after this Saying, the +holy Church, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of this Flesh_. +And some are of Opinion, that this Part does not differ from the former; +but that it explains and enforces what before was called _the holy +Church_; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of one +God, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the same +Spirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communion +of all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from the +Beginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of the +Members of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds of +one may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. But +out of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further his +Salvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; and +therefore it follows, _the Forgiveness of Sins_; because out of the +Church there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himself +away with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, I +say, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered by +the Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and after +Baptism, by Repentence, and the Keys given to the Church. + +_Au._ Thus far they are the Words of a Man that is sound in the Faith. +Do you believe that there will be a Resurrection of the Flesh? + +_Ba._ I should believe all the rest to no Purpose, if I did not believe +this, which is the Head of all. + +_Au._ What dost thou mean, when thou say'st the Flesh? + +_Ba._ An human Body animated with a human Soul. + +_Au._ Shall every Soul receive its own Body which is left dead? + +_Ba._ The very same from whence it went out; and therefore, in Cyprian's +Creed, it is added, _of this Flesh_. + +_Au._ How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'd +out of one Thing into another, can rise again the same? + +_Ba._ He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it a +hard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath been +changed in its Form? I don't dispute anxiously which Way it can be done; +it is sufficient to me, that he who hath promised that it shall be so, +is so true, that he can't lye, and so powerful, as to be able to bring +to pass with a Beck, whatsoever he pleases. + +_Au._ What need will there be of a Body then? + +_Ba._ That the whole Man may be glorified with Christ, who, in this +World, was wholly afflicted with Christ. + +_Au._ What means that which he adds, _and Life everlasting_. + +_Ba._ Lest any one should think that we shall so rise again, as the +Frogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is a +twofold Death of the Body, that is common to all Men, both good and bad; +and of the Soul, and the Death of the Soul is Sin. But after the +Resurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body and +Soul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, old +Age, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; but +being made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Nor +shall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; but +shall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On the +contrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon the +wicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduring +everlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with the +Gripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon. + +_Au._ Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, and +unfeignedly? + +_Ba._ I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so sure +that you talk with me. + +_Au._ When I was at _Rome_, I did not find all so sound in the Faith. + +_Ba._ Nay; but if you examine thoroughly, you'll find a great many +others in other Places too, which do not so firmly believe these Things. + +_Au._ Well then, since you agree with us in so many and weighty Points, +what hinders that you are not wholly on our Side? + +_Ba._ I have a mind to hear that of you: For I think that I am orthodox. +Although I will not warrant for my Life yet I endeavour all I can, that +it may be suitable to my Profession. + +_Au._ How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between you +and the orthodox? + +_Ba._ Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are not +displeased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; and +after Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give you +both Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; and +after that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast of +mine, that you may make a better Judgment of me. + +_Au._ But I make it a matter of Scruple to eat with thee. + +_Ba._ But Physicians use to eat with their Patients, that they might +better observe what they love, and wherein they are irregular. + +_Au._ But I am afraid, lest I should seem to favour Hereticks. + +_Ba._ Nay, but there is nothing more religious than to favour Hereticks. + +_Au._ How so? + +_Ba._ Did not _Paul_ wish to be made an _Anathema_ for the _Jews_, which +were worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that a +Man may be made a good Man of a bad Man? + +_Au._ Yes, he does so. + +_Ba._ Well then, do you favour me thus, and you need not fear any Thing. + +_Au._ I never heard a sick Man answer more to the Purpose. Well, come +on, let me dine with you then. + +_Ba._ You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes a +Doctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, that +the Mind shall be never the less fit for Disputation. + +_Au._ Well, let it be so, with good Birds (_i.e._ with good Success). + +_Ba._ Nay, it shall be with bad Fishes, unless you chance to have forgot +that it is _Friday._ + +_Au._ Indeed, that is beside our Creed. + + + + +_The OLD MENS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + [Greek: Terontologia], or, [Greek: Ochema], _shews, as + tho' it were in a Looking-glass, what Things are to be + avoided in Life, and what Things contribute to the + Tranquillity of Life. Old Men that were formerly intimate + Acquaintance when Boys, after forty Years Absence, one + from the other, happen to meet together, going to_ + Antwerp. _There seems to be a very great Inequality in + them that are equal in Age._ Polygamus, _he is very old:_ + Glycion _has no Signs of Age upon him, tho' he is sixty + six; he proposes a Method of keeping off old Age. I. He + consults what Sort of Life to chuse, and follows the + Advice of a prudent old Man, who persuades him to marry a + Wife that was his equal, making his Choice with Judgment, + before he falls in Love. 2. He has born a publick Office, + but not obnoxious to troublesome Affairs. 3. He transacts + Affairs that do not expose him to Envy. 4. He bridles his + Tongue. 5. He is not violently fond of, nor averse to any + Thing. He moderates his Affections, suffers no Sorrow to + abide with him all Night. 6. He abstains from Vices, and + renews his Patience every Day. 7. He is not anxiously + thoughtful of Death. 8. He does not travel into foreign + Countries. 9. He has nothing to do with Doctors. 10. He + diverts himself with Study, but does not study himself + lean. On the other hand_, Polygamus _has brought old Age + upon him, by the Intemperance of his Youth, by Drinking, + Whoring, Gaming, running in Debt; he had had eight + Wives._ Pampirus, _he becomes a Merchant; but consumes + all he has by Gaming; then he becomes a Canon; then a + Carthusian; after that a Benedictine; and last of all, + turns Soldier._ Eusebius, _he gets a good Benefice and + preaches._ + + +EUSEBIUS, PAMPIRUS, POLYGAMUS, GLYCION, HUGUITIO, _and_ HARRY _the +Coachman._ + +_Euseb._ What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do not +see clear, I see three old Companions sitting by me; _Pampirus, +Polygamus_ and _Glycion;_ they are certainly the very same. + +_Pa._ What do you mean, with your Glass Eyes, you Wizard? Pray come +nearer a little, _Eusebius._ + +_Po._ Hail, heartily, my wish'd for _Eusebius._ + +_Gl._ All Health to you, the best of Men. + +_Eu._ One Blessing upon you all, my dear Friends. What God, or +providential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none of +us have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why _Mercury_ with +his Mace could not have more luckily brought us together into a Circle; +but what are you doing here? + +_Pa._ We are sitting. + +_Eu._ I see that, but what do you sit for? + +_Po._ We wait for the _Antwerp_ Waggon. + +_Eu._ What, are you going to the Fair? + +_Po._ We are so: but rather Spectators, than Traders, tho' one has one +Business, and another has another. + +_Eu._ Well, and I am going thither myself too. But what hinders you, +that you are not going? + +_Po._ We han't agreed with the Waggoner yet. + +_Eu._ These Waggoners are a surly Sort of People; but are you willing +that we put a Trick upon them? + +_Po._ With all my Heart, if it can be done fairly. + +_Eu._ We will pretend that we will go thither a-Foot together. + +_Po._ They'll sooner believe that a Crab-Fish will fly, than that such +heavy Fellows as we will take such a Journey on Foot. + +_Eu._ Will you follow good wholsome Advice? + +_Po._ Yes, by all Means. + +_Gl._ They are a drinking, and the longer they are fuddling, the more +Danger we shall be in of being overturned in the Dirt. + +_Po._ You must come very early, if you find a Waggoner sober. + +_Gl._ Let us hire the Waggon for us four by ourselves, that we may get +to _Antwerp_ the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worth +minding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shall +have the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly in +mutual Conversation. + +_Po._ _Glycion_ is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journey +does the Office of a Coach; and according to the _Greek_ Proverb, we +shall have more Liberty of talking, not about a Waggon, but in a Waggon. + +_Gl._ Well, I have made a Bargain, let us get up. Now I've a Mind to be +merry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades after +so long a Separation. + +_Eu._ And methinks I seem to grow young again. + +_Po._ How many Years do you reckon it, since we liv'd together at Paris? + +_Eu._ I believe it is not less than two and forty Years. + +_Pa._ Then we seem'd to be all pretty much of an Age. + +_Eu._ We were so, pretty near the Matter, for if there was any +Difference it was very little. + +_Pa._ But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycion +has nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough to +be his Grandfather. + +_Eu._ Why truly he does so, but what should be the Reason of it? + +_Pa._ What? Why either the one loiter'd and stopp'd in his Course, or +the other run faster (out-run him). + +_Eu._ Oh! Time does not stay, how much soever Men may loiter. + +_Po._ Come, tell us, _Glycion_ truly, how many Years do you number? + +_Gl._ More than Ducats in my Pocket. + +_Po._ Well, but how many? + +_Gl._ Threescore and six. + +_Eu._ Why thou'lt never be old. + +_Po._ But by what Arts hast thou kept off old Age? for you have no grey +Hairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth are +white and even, you have a fresh Colour, and a plump Body. + +_Gl._ I'll tell you my Art, upon Condition you'll tell us your Art of +coming to be old so soon. + +_Po._ I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither you +went when you left _Paris._ + +_Gl._ I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had been +there almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life to +chuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to my +future Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successful +to some, and what had been unsuccessful to others. + +_Po._ I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggot +as any in the World, when you were at _Paris._ + +_Gl._ Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, you +must know, I did not do all this neither of my own mother-Wit. + +_Po._ Indeed I stood in Admiration. + +_Gl._ Before I engaged in any Thing, I applied to a certain Citizen, a +Man of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of a +general Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the most +happy Man in the World. + +_Eu._ You did wisely. + +_Gl._ By this Man's Advice I married a Wife. + +_Po._ Had she a very good Portion? + +_Gl._ An indifferent good one, and according to the Proverb, in a +competent Proportion to my own: For I had just enough to do my Business, +and this Matter succeeded to my Mind. + +_Po._ What was your Age then? + +_Gl._ Almost two and twenty. + +_Po._ O happy Man! + +_Gl._ But don't mistake the Matter; all this was not owing to Fortune +neither. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Gl._ I'll tell you; some love before they chuse, I made my Choice with +Judgment first, and then lov'd afterwards, and nevertheless I married +this Woman more for the Sake of Posterity than for any carnal +Satisfaction. With her I liv'd a very pleasant Life, but not above eight +Years. + +_Po._ Did she leave you no children? + +_Gl._ Nay, I have four alive, two Sons and two Daughters. + +_Po._ Do you live as a private Person, or in some publick Office? + +_Gl._ I have a publick Employ. I might have happen'd to have got into a +higher Post, but I chose this because it was creditable enough to secure +me from Contempt, and is free from troublesome Attendance: And it is +such, that no Body need object against me that I live only for myself, I +have also something to spare now and then to assist a Friend. With this +I live content, and it is the very Height of my Ambition. And then I +have taken Care so to execute my Office, to give more Reputation to my +Office than I receiv'd from it; this I account to be more honourable, +than to borrow my Dignity from the Splendor of my Office. + +_Eu._ Without all Controversy. + +_Gl._ By this Means I am advanced in Years, and the Affections of my +fellow Citizens. + +_Eu._ But that's one of the difficultest Things in the World, when with +very good Reason there is this old Saying: _He that has no Enemies has +no Friends_; and _Envy is always an Attendant on Felicity_. + +_Gl._ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a +Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage +to myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as +I could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance of +Business. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I kept +myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining +the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so +serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of +any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften +it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good +Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid +Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my +Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, I +affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and +resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or +does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy +his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I +never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to +come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent +Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with +Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between +Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or +heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate +them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear +of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens. + +_Pa._ Did you not find a single Life irksome to you? + +_Gl._ Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more +afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately +wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the +Comfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw +it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both, +and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself +with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased. + +_Pol._ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the +first having been so happy a Match to you? + +_Gl._ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of +Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again. + +_Pol._ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a +Bedfellow. + +_Gl._ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the +Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will +be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed to +be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life. +And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now +_Metrodorus_ pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good +in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that +Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for +any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune +happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any +thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd. + +_Pa._ Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than +_Thales_ himself. + +_Gl._ If any Uneasiness in my Mind rises, (as mortal Life produces many +of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from +the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly. + +_Pol._ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Anger +of the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequently +are. + +_Gl._ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an +Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with +myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will +be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at +first, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I be +sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to +go to Bed with me. + +_Eu._ No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper. + +_Gl._ Well, and that I mayn't conceal any thing from Friends, in an +especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any +Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my +Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty +Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I +have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain +of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, [Greek: +euthymia]. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury. + +_Eu._ Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of +Death? + +_Gl._ No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die, +and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be +sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but +to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a +Man can't live happily that does not live piously. + +_Pa._ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in +the same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself. + +_Gl._ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but +then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's +Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to +myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in +Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Years +together, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about two +Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a +Country-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to the +City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from +the new-found Islands. + +_Eu._ Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick? + +_Gl._ I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet. +If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet +or the Country Air. + +_Eu._ Don't you study sometimes? + +_Gl._ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a +Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit +of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of +learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my +Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and +walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I +have read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after +a While I return to my Book again. + +_Eu._ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none +of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many? + +_Gl._ My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix any +thing deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I +have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myself +young, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Age +upon him to that Degree. + +_Po._ Indeed, I will hide nothing from such trusty Companions. + +_Eu._ You will tell it to those that will not make a Discourse of it. + +_Po._ You very well know I indulg'd my Appetite when I was at _Paris_. + +_Eu._ We remember it very well. But we thought that you had left your +rakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_. + +_Po._ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was big +with Child. + +_Eu._ What, into your Father's House? + +_Po._ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who was +to come to her in a little Time. + +_Gl._ Did your Father believe it? + +_Po._ He smelt the Matter out in three or four Days time, and then there +was a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave off +Feasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, my +Father continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cackling +Gossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, I +march'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought me +some young Chickens. + +_Pa._ Where had you Money all the While? + +_Po._ My Mother gave me some by Stealth, and I ran over Head and Ears in +Debt. + +_Eu._ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you? + +_Po._ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily than +they will a Spendthrift. + +_Pa._ And what next? + +_Po._ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in good +earnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon this +Condition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one of +our own Country. + +_Eu._ Was she your Wife? + +_Po._ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, but +there had been carnal Copulation in the present Tense. + +_Eu._ How could you leave her then? + +_Po._ It came to be known afterwards, that my _French_ Woman had a +_French_ Husband that she had elop'd from some Time before. + +_Eu._ But it seems you have a Wife now. + +_Po._ None besides this which is my Eighth. + +_Eu._ The Eighth! Why then you were named _Polygamus_ by Way of +Prophecy. Perhaps they all died without Children. + +_Po._ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I have +at Home. + +_Eu._ I had rather have so many Hens at Home, which would lay me Eggs. +An't you weary of wifeing? + +_Po._ I am so weary of it, that if this Eighth should die to Day, I +would marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not have +two or three, when one Cock has so many Hens. + +_Eu._ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and that +you have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings on +old Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours, +and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But who +maintains your Family all this While? + +_Po._ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I work +hard with my Hands. + +_Eu._ Have you given over Study then? + +_Po._ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Master +of seven Arts, I am become a Workman of but one Art. + +_Eu._ Poor Man! So many Times you were obliged to be a Mourner, and so +many Times a Widower. + +_Po._ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always put +an End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth the +Epitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration of +his Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he is +two or three Years older than I. + +_Pa._ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such a +Romance. + +_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it. + +_Pa._ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly to +enter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what I +had; and after long Consultation Merchandizing was what I took to. + +_Po._ I admire this Way of Life pleas'd you more than any other. + +_Pa._ I was naturally greedy to know new Things, to see various +Countries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners of +Men, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. From +which a general Knowledge of Things proceeds. + +_Po._ But a wretched one, which is often purchas'd with Inconveniencies. + +_Pa._ It is so, therefore my Father gave me a good large Stock, that I +might begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time I +courted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone off +without a Portion. + +_Eu._ Did you succeed? + +_Pa._ No. Before I came Home, I lost all, Stock and Block. + +_Eu._ Perhaps by Shipwreck. + +_Pa._ By Shipwreck indeed. For we run upon more dangerous Rocks than +those of _Scilly_. + +_Eu._ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is the +Name of it? + +_Pa._ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamous +for the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, the +Devil's Bones] in _Latin_, how you call it in _Greek_ I can't tell. + +_Eu._ O Fool! + +_Pa._ Nay, my Father was a greater Fool, to trust a young Fop with such +a Sum of Money. + +_Gl._ And what did you do next? + +_Pa._ Why nothing at all, but I began to think of hanging myself. + +_Gl._ Was your Father so implacable then? For such a Loss might be made +up again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes the +first Essay, and much more it ought to be to one that tries all Things. + +_Pa._ Tho' what you say may be true, I lost my Wife in the mean Time. +For as soon as the Maid's Parents came to understand what they must +expect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head and +Ears in Love. + +_Gl._ I pity thee. But what did you propose to yourself after that? + +_Pa._ To do as it is usual in desperate Cases. My Father had cast me +off, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'd +a Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberate +seriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether I +should throw myself into a Monastery. + +_Eu._ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, the +easier Way of Dying. + +_Pa._ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'd +to me the most painful. + +_Gl._ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that they +may live more comfortably there. + +_Pa._ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole out +of my own Country. + +_Gl._ Whither did you go at last? + +_Pa._ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order that +wear Linnen outwards and Woollen next their Skin. + +_Gl._ Did you spend your Winter in _Ireland_? + +_Pa._ No. But by that Time I had been among them two Months I sail'd +into _Scotland_. + +_Gl._ What displeas'd you among them? + +_Pa._ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enough +for the Deserts of one, that once Hanging was too good for. + +_Gl._ Well, what past in _Scotland_? + +_Pa._ Then I chang'd my Linnen Habit for a Leathern one, among the +Carthusians. + +_Eu._ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead to +the World. + +_Pa._ It seem'd so to me, when I heard them Singing. + +_Gl._ What? Do dead Men sing? But how many Months did you spend among +the _Scots_? + +_Pa._ Almost six. + +_Gl._ A wonderful Constancy. + +_Eu._ What offended you there? + +_Pa._ Because it seem'd to me to be a lazy, delicate Sort of Life; and +then I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reason +of their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid I +should lose it all. + +_Po._ Whither did you take your next Flight? + +_Pa._ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of the +Order of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, that +they are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, that +for their upper Garment wore Hair-Cloth like a Net. + +_Gl._ A grievous Mortification of the Flesh. + +_Pa._ Here I stay'd eleven Months. + +_Eu._ What was the Matter that you did not stay there for good and all? + +_Pa._ Because I found there were more Ceremonies than true Piety: And +besides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which +_Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit being +chang'd into a white one; with these I liv'd ten Months. + +_Eu._ What disgusted you here? + +_Pa._ I did not much dislike any Thing, for I found them very good +Company; but the _Greek_ Proverb ran in my Mind; + + [Greek: Dei tas chelonas e phagein e me phagein.] + + _One must either eat Snails, or eat nothing at all._ + +Therefore I came to a Resolution, either not to be a Monk, or to be a +Monk to Perfection. I had heard there were some of the Order of St. +_Bridget_, that were really heavenly Men, I betook myself to these. + +_Eu._ How many Months did you stay there? + +_Pa._ Two Days; but not quite that. + +_Gl._ Did that Kind of Life please you no better than so? + +_Pa._ They take no Body in, but those that will profess themselves +presently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily to +put my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And as +often as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that I +had lost, tormented my Mind. + +_Gl._ Well, and what after this? + +_Pa._ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I met +with any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up and +down, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at first +Sight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Some +carried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some a +party-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some a +quadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, that +I might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I found +in reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Cross +on a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tired +with Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holiness +all at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so would +return Home with a Back-Load of Sanctimony. + +_Po._ And did you go thither? + +_Pa._ Yes. + +_Po._ Where did you get Money to bear your Charges? + +_Pa._ I wonder it never came into your Head, to ask that before now, and +not to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the old +Proverb; _a Man of Art will live any where_. + +_Gl._ What Art do you carry with you? + +_Pa._ Palmistry. + +_Gl._ Where did you learn it? + +_Pa._ What signifies that? + +_Gl._ Who was your Master? + +_Pa._ My Belly, the great Master of all Arts: I foretold Things past, +present, and to come. + +_Gl._ And did you know any Thing of the Matter? + +_Pa._ Nothing at all; but I made bold Guesses, and run no Risque +neither, having got my Money first. + +_Po._ And was so ridiculous an Art sufficient to maintain you? + +_Pa._ It was, and two Servants too: There is every where such a Number +of foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to +_Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who being +seventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless he +had first visited _Jerusalem_. + +_Eu._ What, did he leave a Wife at Home? + +_Pa._ Yes, and six Children. + +_Eu._ O impious, pious, old Man! Well, and did you come back holy from +thence? + +_Pa._ Shall I tell you the Truth? Somewhat worse than I went. + +_Eu._ So, as I hear, your Religion was grown cool. + +_Pa._ Nay, it grew more hot: So I went back into _Italy_, and enter'd +into the Army. + +_Eu._ What, then, did you look for Religion in the Camp. Than which, +what is there that can be more impious? + +_Pa._ It was a holy War. + +_Eu._ Perhaps against the _Turks_. + +_Pa._ Nay, more holy than that, as they indeed gave out at that Time. + +_Eu._ What was that? + +_Pa._ Pope _Julius_ the Second made War upon the _French_. And the +Experience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier's +Life. + +_Eu._ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones. + +_Pa._ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than I +did in the Monasteries. + +_Eu._ And what did you do after this? + +_Pa._ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to my +Business of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward in +Pursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came into +my Mind, that I might follow both together. + +_Eu._ What, be a Merchant and a Monk both together? + +_Pa._ Why not? There is nothing more religious than the Orders of +Mendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly over +Sea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enter +into the Houses of common People, Noblemen, and Kings. + +_Eu._ Ay, but they don't Trade for Gain. + +_Pa._ Very often, with better Success than we do. + +_Eu._ Which of these Orders did you make Choice of? + +_Pa._ I try'd them all. + +_Eu._ Did none of them please you? + +_Pa._ I lik'd them all well enough, if I might but presently have gone +to Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time in +the Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began to +think how I might get to be made an Abbot: But, I thought with myself, +_Kissing goes by Favour_, and it will be a tedious Pursuit: So having +spent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, I +return'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myself +to my old Business of Traffick. + +_Gl._ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and were +transform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could you +behave yourself with a proper Decorum? + +_Pa._ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act several +Parts? + +_Eu._ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort of +Life, which you most approve of. + +_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which I +follow. + +_Eu._ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it. + +_Pa._ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that is +entirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the best +on't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much to +acquaint his Friends with some Scenes of his Course of Life. + +_Eu._ Nay, with the whole Play of it, if you please to hear it, for it +does not consist of many Acts. + +_Gl._ It will be a very great Favour. + +_Eu._ When I return'd to my own Country, I took a Year to deliberate +what Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment my +Inclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary was +offered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I accepted +it. + +_Gl._ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People. + +_Eu._ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth the +accepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so many +Advantages to fall into a Man's Mouth, as tho' they dropt out of Heaven; +handsome Houses well furnish'd, a large Revenue, an honourable Society, +and a Church at Hand, to serve God in, when you have a Mind to it? + +_Pa._ I was scandaliz'd at the Luxury of the Persons, and the Infamy of +their Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have an +Aversion to Learning. + +_Eu._ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, and +associate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that are +bad better. + +_Po._ And is that the State of Life you have always liv'd in? + +_Eu._ Always, except four Years, that I liv'd at _Padua_. + +_Po._ What did you do there? + +_Eu._ These Years I divided in this Manner; I studied Physick a Year and +a half, and the rest of the Time Divinity. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Eu._ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and also +sometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preached +sometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I have +led a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not being +ambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it had +been offered me. + +_Pa._ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions have +liv'd, that were our Familiars. + +_Eu._ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not far +from the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up the +same Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure. + +_Hugh. [a Waggoner.]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up this +Rubbish? + +_Harry the Waggoner._ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp? + +_Hugh._ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bed +of Nettles, to make them grow warm again. + +_Harry._ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into a +Pond to cool them, to lay their Concupiscence, for they are too hot. + +_Hugh._ I am not us'd to overturn my Passengers. + +_Harry._ No? but I saw you a little While ago, overturn Half a Dozen +Carthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they came +out black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some noble +Exploit. + +_Hugh._ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a dead +Weight to my Waggon. + +_Harry._ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, have +made my Waggon go light. I never had a better Fare. + +_Hugh._ But you don't use to like such Passengers. + +_Harry._ But these are good old Men. + +_Hugh._ How do you know that? + +_Harry._ Because they made me drink humming Ale, three Times by the Way. + +_Hugh._ Ha, ha, ha, then they are good to you. + + + + +_The FRANCISCANS,_ [Greek: Ptochoplousioi], _or RICH BEGGARS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Franciscans, _or rich poor Persons, are not + admitted into the House of a Country Parson_. Pandocheus + _jokes wittily upon them. The Habit is not to be + accounted odious. The Life and Death of the_ Franciscans. + _Of the foolish Pomp of Habits. The Habits of Monks are + not in themselves evil. What Sort of Persons Monks ought + to be. The Use of Garments is for Necessity and Decency. + What Decency is. Whence arose the Variety of Habits and + Garments among the Monks. That there was in old Time no + Superstition in the Habits._ + + +CONRADE, _a Bernardine_ Monk, _a_ Parson, _an_ Inn-Keeper _and his_ +Wife. + +_Con._ Hospitality becomes a Pastor. + +_Pars._ But I am a Pastor of Sheep; I don't love Wolves. + +_Con._ But perhaps you don't hate a Wench so much. But what Harm have we +done you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so much +as admit us under your Roof? We won't put you to the Charge of a Supper. + +_Pars._ I'll tell ye, because if you spy but a Hen or a Chicken in a +Body's House, I should be sure to hear of it to-Morrow in the Pulpit. +This is the Gratitude you shew for your being entertain'd. + +_Con._ We are not all such Blabs. + +_Pars._ Well, be what you will, I'd scarce put Confidence in St. +_Peter_ himself, if he came to me in such a Habit. + +_Con._ If that be your Resolution, at least tell us where is an Inn. + +_Pars._ There's a publick Inn here in the Town. + +_Con._ What Sign has it? + +_Pars._ Upon a Board that hangs up, you will see a Dog thrusting his +Head into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; and +a Wolf sits at the Bar. + +_Con._ That's an unlucky Sign. + +_Pars._ You may e'en make your best on't. + +_Ber._ What Sort of a Pastor is this? we might be starv'd for him. + +_Con._ If he feeds his Sheep no better than he feeds us, they must needs +be very lean. + +_Ber._ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall we +do? + +_Con._ We must set a good Face on't. + +_Ber._ There's little to be gotten by Modesty, in a Case of Necessity. + +_Con._ Very right, St. _Francis_ will be with us. + +_Ber._ Let's try our Fortune then. + +_Con._ We won't stay for our Host's Answer at the Door, but we'll rush +directly into the Stove, and we won't easily be gotten out again. + +_Ber._ O impudent Trick! + +_Con._ This is better than to lie abroad all Night, and be frozen to +Death. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and take +it out again to-Morrow. + +_Ber._ Indeed, the Matter requires it. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Animals do I see here? + +_Con._ We are the Servants of God, and the Sons of St. _Francis_, good +Man. + +_Innk._ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but I +would not have many of them in my House. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but you +have neither Hands nor Feet to work. Ha, ha! You Sons of St. _Francis_, +you use to tell us in the Pulpit, that he was a pure Batchelor, and has +he got so many Sons? + +_Con._ We are the Children of the Spirit, not of the Flesh. + +_Innk._ A very unhappy Father, for your Mind is the worst Part about +you; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it is +better with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives and +Daughters. + +_Con._ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degenerate +from the Institutions of our Founder; we are strict Observers of them. + +_Innk._ And I'll observe you too, that you don't do me any Damage, for I +have a mortal Aversion for this Sort of Cattle. + +_Con._ Why so, I pray? + +_Innk._ Because you carry Teeth in your Head, but no Money in your +Pocket; and such Sort of Guests are very unwelcome to me. + +_Con._ But we take Pains for you. + +_Innk._ Shall I shew you after what Manner you labour for me? + +_Con._ Do, shew us. + +_Innk._ Look upon that Picture there, just by you, on your left Hand, +there you'll see a Wolf a Preaching, and behind him a Goose, thrusting +her Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one at +Confession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. There +you see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in one +Hand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse. + +_Con._ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathed +with this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses, +Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garment +covers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makes +no Body worse. It is unjust to judge of a Man by his Cloaths; for if so, +the Garment that you wear sometimes were to be accounted detestable, +because it covers many Thieves, Murderers, Conjurers, and Whoremasters. + +_Innk._ Well, I'll dispense with your Habit, if you'll but pay your +Reckonings. + +_Con._ We'll pray to God for you. + +_Innk._ And I'll pray to God for you, and there's one for t'other. + +_Con._ But there are some Persons that you must not take Money of. + +_Innk._ How comes it that you make a Conscience of touching any? + +_Con._ Because it does not consist with our Profession. + +_Innk._ Nor does it stand with my Profession to entertain Guests for +nothing. + +_Con._ But we are tied up by a Rule not to touch Money. + +_Innk._ And my Rule commands me quite the contrary. + +_Con._ What Rule is yours? + +_Innk._ Read those Verses: + + _Guests at this Table, when you've eat while you're able. + Rise not hence before you have first paid your Score._ + +_Con._ We'll be no Charge to you. + +_Innk._ But they that are no Charge to me are no Profit to me neither. + +_Con._ If you do us any good Office here, God will make it up to you +sufficiently. + +_Innk._ But these Words won't keep my Family. + +_Con._ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't be +troublesome to any Body. + +_Innk._ My Stove won't hold such Company. + +_Con._ What, will you thrust us out of Doors then? It may be we shall be +devour'd by Wolves to Night. + +_Innk._ Neither Wolves nor Dogs will prey upon their own Kind. + +_Con._ If you do so you will be more cruel than the _Turks_. Let us be +what we will, we are Men. + +_Innk._ I have lost my Hearing. + +_Con._ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the +Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if +the Wolves should not devour us? + +_Innk._ _Adam_ liv'd so in Paradise. + +_Con._ He did so, but then he was innocent. + +_Innk._ And so am I innocent. + +_Con._ Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you +thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into +his. + +_Innk._ Good Words, I beseech you. + +_Wife._ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by +this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good +Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't. + +_Innk._ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the +Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman; +Good Men! + +_Wife._ Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often +you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At +least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't +thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when +you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and +Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors? + +_Innk._ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind +your Kitchen. + +_Wife._ Well, so I will. + +_Bert._ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope all +will be well by and by. + +_Con._ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that no +Guests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had. + +_Bert._ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine from +the last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for what +I see here, he would not have given us so much as a Mouthful of Hay. + +_Con._ Now the Servants are set down, let's take Part of the Table with +them, but so that we don't incommode any Body. + +_Innk._ I believe I may put it to your Score, that I have not a Guest to +Day, nor any besides my own Family, and you good-for-nothing ones. + +_Con._ Well, put it up to our Score, if it has not happened to you +often. + +_Innk._ Oftner than I would have it so. + +_Con._ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake his +Servants. + +_Innk._ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospel +forbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have great +Sleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, and +Flesh also, and that of the best Sort. + +_Con._ Take Part with us, if you please. + +_Innk._ My Wine is Hog-Wash to it. + +_Con._ Eat some of the Flesh, there is more than enough for us. + +_Innk._ O happy Beggars! My Wife has dress'd nothing to Day, but +Coleworts and a little rusty Bacon. + +_Con._ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us what +we eat. + +_Innk._ Then why don't you carry with you Coleworts and dead Wine? + +_Con._ Because the People where we din'd to Day would needs force this +upon us. + +_Innk._ Did your Dinner cost you nothing? + +_Con._ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us these +Things to carry along with us. + +_Innk._ From whence did you come? + +_Con._ From _Basil._ + +_Innk._ Whoo! what so far? + +_Con._ Yes. + +_Innk._ What Sort of Fellows are you that ramble about thus without +Horses, Money, Servants, Arms, or Provisions? + +_Con._ You see in us some Footsteps of the evangelical Life. + +_Innk._ It seems to me to be the Life of Vagabonds, that stroll about +with Budgets. + +_Con._ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesus +himself. + +_Innk._ Can you tell Fortunes? + +_Con._ Nothing less. + +_Innk._ How do you live then? + +_Con._ By him, who hath promised. + +_Innk._ Who is he? + +_Con._ He that said, _Take no Care, but all Things shall be added unto +you_. + +_Innk._ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom of +God._ + +_Con._ That we do with all our Might. + +_Innk._ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, so +that it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no such +Thing. + +_Con._ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matter +requir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for the +Conviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but a +religious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick than +to be well, and more happy to die than to live. + +_Innk._ What do you do then? + +_Con._ That we can; every Man according to the Talent that God has given +him. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunity +offers, sometimes we preach, if we any where find Pastors that are dumb: +And if we find no Opportunity of doing Good, we take Care to do no Body +any Harm, either by our Manners or our Words. + +_Innk._ I wish you would preach for us to Morrow, for it is a Holy-Day. + +_Con._ For what Saint? + +_Innk._ To St. _Antony._ + +_Con._ He was indeed a good Man. But how came he to have a Holiday? + +_Innk._ I'll tell you. This Town abounds with Swine-Herds, by Reason of +a large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People have +an Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and therefore +they worship him, for Fear he should grow angry, if they neglect him. + +_Con._ I wish they would worship him as they ought to do. + +_Innk._ How's that? + +_Con._ Whosoever imitates the Saints in their Lives, worships as he +ought to do. + +_Innk._ To-morrow the Town will ring again with Drinking and Dancing, +Playing, Scolding and Boxing. + +_Con._ After this Manner the Heathens once worshipped their _Bacchus_. +But I wonder, if this is their Way of worshipping, that St. _Antony_ is +not enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogs +themselves. What Sort of a Pastor have you? A dumb one, or a wicked one? + +_Innk._ What he is to other People, I don't know: But he's a very good +one to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings more +Customers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not here +now. + +_Con._ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for our +Turn. + +_Innk._ What! Did you go to him then? + +_Con._ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us away +from the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither. + +_Innk._ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come because +he knew you were to be here. + +_Con._ Is he a dumb one? + +_Innk._ A dumb one! There's no Body is more noisy in the Stove, and he +makes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Need +of more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that he +is none of the dumb Ones. + +_Con._ Is he a learned Divine? + +_Innk._ He says he is a very great Scholar; but what he knows is what +he has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful to +let others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you in +short; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears its +own Cover_. + +_Con._ It may be he will not give a Man Liberty to preach in his Place. + +_Innk._ Yes, I'll undertake he will, but upon this Condition, that you +don't have any Flirts at him, as it is a common Practice for you to do. + +_Con._ They have us'd themselves to an ill Custom that do so. If a +Pastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is the +Bishop's Business. + +_Innk._ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Men +yourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? For +a great many People take you to be ill Men by your Dress. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ I can't tell, except it be that they find a great many of you to +be so. + +_Con._ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear this +Habit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to be +good Men by our Habit, than they that take us for base Men. + +_Innk._ Well, so let it be. But what is the Advantage of so many +different Dresses? + +_Con._ What is your Opinion? + +_Innk._ Why I see no Advantage at all, except in Processions, or War. +For in Processions there are carried about various Representations of +Saints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by the +different Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that every +one may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that there +may be no Confusion in the Army. + +_Con._ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us follows +one Leader, and another another; but we all fight under one General, +Christ. But in a Garment there are three Things to be consider'd. + +_Innk._ What are they? + +_Con._ Necessity, Use, and Decency. Why do we eat? + +_Innk._ That we mayn't be starv'd with Hunger. + +_Con._ And for the very same Reason we take a Garment that we mayn't be +starv'd with Cold. + +_Innk._ I confess it. + +_Con._ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers the +Head, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Use +requires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a long +one for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one in +Winter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Times +a Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon they +take a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; but +every one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment of +ours is contriv'd so, that this one will serve for various Uses. + +_Innk._ How is that? + +_Con._ If the North Wind blow, or the Sun shines hot, we put on our +Cowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are to +sit still, we let down our Garment about our Heels, if we are to walk, +we hold or tuck it up. + +_Innk._ He was no Fool, whosoever he was, that contriv'd it. + +_Con._ And it is the chief Thing in living happily, for a Man to +accustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we begin +to indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be no +End; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer so +many Purposes. + +_Innk._ I allow that. + +_Con._ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, if +you should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that you +acted indecently? + +_Innk._ They would say I was mad. + +_Con._ And what would you say, if she should put on your Cloaths? + +_Innk._ I should not say much perhaps, but I should cudgel her +handsomly. + +_Con._ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any one +wears? + +_Innk._ O yes, in this Case it is very material. + +_Con._ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict a +Punishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of a +different Sex. + +_Innk._ And they are in the Right for it. + +_Con._ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dress +himself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like an +old Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if an +old Woman should attire herself like a young Girl, and the contrary? + +_Innk._ No doubt. + +_Con._ In like Manner, if a Lay-Man should wear a Priest's Habit, and a +Priest a Lay-Man's. + +_Innk._ They would both act unbecomingly. + +_Con._ What if a private Man should put on the Habit of a Prince, or an +inferior Clergy-Man that of a Bishop? Would he act unhandsomely or no? + +_Innk._ Certainly he would. + +_Con._ What if a Citizen should dress himself like a Soldier, with a +Feather in his Cap, and other Accoutrements of a hectoring Soldier? + +_Innk._ He would be laugh'd at. + +_Con._ What if any _English_ Ensign should carry a white Cross in his +Colours, a _Swiss_ a red one, a _French_ Man a black one? + +_Innk._ He would act impudently. + +_Con._ Why then do you wonder so much at our Habit? + +_Innk._ I know the Difference between a private Man and a Prince, +between a Man and a Woman; but I don't understand the Difference between +a Monk and no Monk. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a poor Man and a rich Man? + +_Innk._ Fortune. + +_Con._ And yet it would be unbecoming a poor Man to imitate a rich Man +in his Dress. + +_Innk._ Very true, as rich Men go now a-Days. + +_Con._ What Difference is there between a Fool and a wise Man? + +_Innk._ Something more than there is between a rich Man and a poor Man. + +_Con._ Are not Fools dress'd up in a different Manner from wise Men? + +_Innk._ I can't tell how well it becomes you, but your Habit does not +differ much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells. + +_Con._ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, if +we really are what we pretend to be. + +_Innk._ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are a +great many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than those +that wear Caps lin'd with Furs, Hoods, and other Ensigns of wise Men; +therefore it seems a ridiculous Thing to me to make a Shew of Wisdom by +the Dress rather than in Fact. I saw a certain Man, more than a Fool, +with a Gown hanging down to his Heels, a Cap like our Doctors, and had +the Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew of +Gravity, and he was as much made on by great Men, as any of their Fools, +and was more a Fool than any of them. + +_Con._ Well, what would you infer from that? That a Prince who laughs at +his Jester should change Coats with him? + +_Innk._ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Proposition +be true, that the Mind of a Man is represented by his Habit. + +_Con._ You press this upon me indeed, but I am still of the Opinion, +that there is good Reason for giving Fools distinct Habits. + +_Innk._ What Reason? + +_Con._ That no Body might hurt them, if they say or do any Thing that's +foolish. + +_Innk._ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does rather +provoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Fools +they become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores a +Man, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and a +Fool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under the +Protection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you are +distinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause is +sufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear a +different Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, an +Apothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if you +are Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? If +you are Laymen, why do you differ from us? + +_Con._ In antient Times, Monks were only the purer Sort of the Laity, +and there was then only the same Difference between a Monk and a Layman, +as between a frugal, honest Man, that maintains his Family by his +Industry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwards +the Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gave +some Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, or +sacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not been +ashamed to wear it. + +_Innk._ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that? + +_Con._ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimes +from Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think it +ridiculous for a Man to wear a Bull's Hide, with the Horns on his Head, +and the Tail trailing after him on the Ground? + +_Innk._ That would be ridiculous enough. + +_Con._ Again, if any one should wear a Garment that should hide his +Face, and his Hands, and shew his privy Members? + +_Innk._ That would be more ridiculous than the other. + +_Con._ The very Pagan Writers have taken Notice of them that have wore +Cloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wear +such. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, than +to wear a transparent Garment. + +_Innk._ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends upon +Custom and the Opinion of People. + +_Con._ Why so? + +_Innk._ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at my +House, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries lately +discovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they came +to an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as the +greatest Indecency in the World, to cover their Bodies. + +_Con._ It may be they liv'd like Beasts. + +_Innk._ Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd +under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not +above an Hour in a Day. + +_Con._ What Work did they do? + +_Innk._ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead +of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when +this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind +to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish +Vices, but none more severely than Adultery. + +_Con._ What's the Punishment? + +_Innk._ They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But for +Men that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all his +Life after, he should appear in publick with his privy Parts covered. + +_Con._ A mighty Punishment indeed! + +_Innk._ Custom has made it to them the very greatest Punishment that is. + +_Con._ When I consider the Force of Persuasion, I am almost ready to +allow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to the +greatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off a +Piece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf's +Skin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair of +Stockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of a +Net, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side of +his Beard, and leave the other hanging down, and curl one Part of it, +and to put him a Cap on his Head, cut and slash'd, with a huge Plume of +Feathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him more +ridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? And +yet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are well +enough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like the +Dress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous. + +_Innk._ Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much as +they can possibly. + +_Con._ But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers like +an _Indian_, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a mad +Man? + +_Innk._ Stark mad. + +_Con._ And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madness +still: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom will +bear it out; so it cannot be denied, but that there is a certain +_Decorum_ in Garments, which all wise Men always account a _Decorum_; +and that there is also an Unbecomingness in Garments, which will to wise +Men always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Woman +dragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to be +measured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are not +asham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thing +is Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has once +obtain'd. + +_Innk._ Well, we have had Talk enough about Custom: But tell me now, +whether you think it better for Monks to differ from others in Habit, or +not to differ? + +_Con._ I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not to +judge of any Man by his Habit, if it be but sober and decent. + +_Innk._ Why don't you cast away your Cowls then? + +_Con._ Why did not the Apostles presently eat of all Sorts of Meat? + +_Innk._ I can't tell. Do you tell me that. + +_Con._ Because an invincible Custom hinder'd it: For whatsoever is +deeply rooted in the Minds of Men, and has been confirm'd by long Use, +and is turn'd as it were into Nature, can never be remov'd on a sudden, +without endangering the publick Peace; but must be remov'd by Degrees, +as a Horse's Tail is pluck'd off by single Hairs. + +_Innk._ I could bear well enough with it, if the Monks had all but one +Habit: But who can bear so many different Habits? + +_Con._ Custom has brought in this Evil, which brings in every Thing. +_Benedict_ did not invent a new Habit, but the same that he wore himself +and his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman: +Neither did _Francis_ invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poor +Country-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it into +Superstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to the +Dress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now in +Fashion, than my Dress is from yours? + +_Innk._ We do see it. + +_Con._ Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques of +antient Times. + +_Innk._ Why then, has your Garment no Holiness in it? + +_Con._ None at all. + +_Innk._ There are some of you that make their Boasts that these Dresses +were divinely directed by the holy Virgin Mother. + +_Con._ These Stories are but meer Dreams. + +_Innk._ Some despair of being able to recover from a Fit of Sickness, +unless they be wrapp'd up in a Dominican's Habit: Nay, nor won't be +buried but in a Franciscan's Habit. + +_Con._ They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats or +Fools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know a +wicked Man as well in a Franciscan's Habit, as in a Soldier's Coat. + +_Innk._ There is not so much Variety in the Feathers of Birds of the +Air, as there is in your Habits. + +_Con._ What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But it +is a better Thing to out-do it. + +_Innk._ I wish you would out-do it in the Variety of your Beaks too. + +_Con._ But, come on. I will be an Advocate for Variety, if you will give +me Leave. Is not a _Spaniard_ dressed after one Fashion, an _Italian_ +after another, a _Frenchman_ after another, a _German_ after another, a +_Greek_ after another, a _Turk_ after another, and a _Sarazen_ after +another? + +_Innk._ Yes. + +_Con._ And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is there +in Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dress +of the _Venetian_ from the _Florentine_, and of both from the _Roman_, +and this only within _Italy_ alone? + +_Innk._ I believe it. + +_Con._ And from hence also came our Variety. _Dominic_ he took his Dress +from the honest Ploughmen in that Part of _Spain_ in which he liv'd; and +_Benedict_ from the Country-Fellows of that Part of _Italy_ in which he +liv'd; and _Francis_ from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and so +for the rest. + +_Innk._ So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless you +live holier. + +_Con._ Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we are +a greater Stumbling to the Simple. + +_Innk._ Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, nor +Habit, nor Rule, nor Profession? + +_Con._ Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfathers +what you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you want +a human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do you +want a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Consider +what you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and you +will find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professed +the Rule of _Francis_. + +_Innk._ Do you believe that any Inn-Keepers go to Heaven? + +_Con._ Why not? + +_Innk._ There are a great many Things said and done in this House, that +are not according to the Gospel. + +_Con._ What are they? + +_Innk._ One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and another +slanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselves +honest or not. + +_Con._ You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if you +cannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or draw +on these Wickednesses. + +_Innk._ Sometimes I don't deal very honestly as to my Wine. + +_Con._ Wherein? + +_Innk._ When I find my Guests grow a little too hot, I put more Water +into the Wine. + +_Con._ That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up with +unwholsome Ingredients. + +_Innk._ But tell me truly, how many Days have you been in this Journey? + +_Con._ Almost a Month. + +_Innk._ Who takes Care of you all the While? + +_Con._ Are not they taken Care enough of, that have a Wife, and +Children, and Parents, and Kindred? + +_Innk._ Oftentimes. + +_Con._ You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but one +Father, we have an hundred; you have but one House, we have an hundred; +you have but a few Children, we have an innumerable Company; you have +but a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number. + +_Innk._ How so? + +_Con._ Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than the +Kindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience the +Truth of what he has promised. + +_Innk._ In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if I +don't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do us +the Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen to +come this Way again, know that here's a Lodging for you. + +_Con._ But what if others should come? + +_Innk._ They shall be welcome, if they be but such as you. + +_Con._ I hope they will be better. + +_Innk._ But among so many bad ones, how shall I know which are good? + +_Con._ I'll tell you in a few Words, but in your Ear. + +_Innk._ Tell me. + +_Con._--------- + +_Innk._ I'll remember it, and do it. + + + + +_The ABBOT and LEARNED WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A certain Abbot paying a Visit to a Lady, finds her + reading_ Greek _and_ Latin _Authors. A Dispute arises, + whence Pleasantness of Life proceeds:_ viz. _Not from + external Enjoyments, but from the Study of Wisdom. An + ignorant Abbot will by no Means have his Monks to be + learned; nor has he himself so much as a single Book in + his Closet. Pious Women in old Times gave their Minds to + the Study of the Scriptures; but Monks that hate + Learning, and give themselves up to Luxury, Idleness, and + Hunting, are provok'd to apply themselves to other Kinds + of Studies, more becoming their Profession._ + + +ANTRONIUS, MAGDALIA. + +_Ant._ What Sort of Houshold-Stuff do I see? + +_Mag._ Is it not that which is neat? + +_Ant._ How neat it is, I can't tell, but I'm sure, it is not very +becoming, either a Maid or a Matron. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because here's Books lying about every where. + +_Mag._ What have you liv'd to this Age, and are both an Abbot and a +Courtier, and never saw any Books in a Lady's Apartment? + +_Ant._ Yes, I have seen Books, but they were _French_; but here I see +_Greek_ and _Latin_ ones. + +_Mag._ Why, are there no other Books but _French_ ones that teach +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ But it becomes Ladies to have something that is diverting, to +pass away their leisure Hours. + +_Mag._ Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly? + +_Ant._ You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantly +together: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is Ladies +Business. + +_Mag._ Ought not every one to live well? + +_Ant._ I am of Opinion, they ought so to do. + +_Mag._ Well, can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does not live a +good Life. + +_Ant._ Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does +live a good Life? + +_Mag._ Why then, do you approve of living illy, if it be but pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I am of the Opinion, that they live a good Life, that live a +pleasant Life. + +_Mag._ Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outward +Things, or from the Mind? + +_Ant._ From outward Things. + +_Mag._ O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me in +what you suppose a pleasant Life to consist? + +_Ant._ Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what you +please, in Wealth, and in Honours. + +_Mag._ But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should you +live pleasantly then? + +_Ant._ What is it that you call by the Name of Wisdom? + +_Mag._ This is Wisdom, to know that a Man is only happy by the Goods of +the Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happier +or better. + +_Ant._ If that be Wisdom, fare it well for me. + +_Mag._ Suppose now that I take more Pleasure in reading a good Author, +than you do in Hunting, Drinking, or Gaming; won't you think I live +pleasantly? + +_Ant._ I would not live that Sort of Life. + +_Mag._ I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is it +that ought to be most delighted in? + +_Ant._ I would not have my Monks mind Books much. + +_Mag._ But my Husband approves very well of it. But what Reason have +you, why you would not have your Monks bookish? + +_Ant._ Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out of +the Decrees and Decretals of _Peter_ and _Paul._ + +_Mag._ Why then do you command them the contrary to what _Peter_ and +_Paul_ did? + +_Ant._ I can't tell what they teach; but I can't endure a Monk that +answers again: Nor would I have any of my Monks wiser than I am myself. + +_Mag._ You might prevent that well enough, if you did but lay yourself +out, to get as much Wisdom as you can. + +_Ant._ I han't Leisure. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because I han't Time. + +_Mag._ What, not at Leisure to be wise? + +_Ant._ No. + +_Mag._ Pray what hinders you? + +_Ant._ Long Prayers, the Affairs of my Houshold, Hunting, looking after +my Horses, attending at Court. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you think these Things are better than Wisdom? + +_Ant._ Custom has made it so. + +_Mag._ Well, but now answer me this one Thing: Suppose God should grant +you this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sort +of Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, and +yourself into a Horse? + +_Ant._ No, by no Means. + +_Mag._ By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser than +yourself? + +_Ant._ It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, if +I am but a Man myself. + +_Mag._ Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither has +Wisdom, nor desires to have it? + +_Ant._ I am wise enough for myself. + +_Mag._ And so are Hogs wise enough for themselves. + +_Ant._ You seem to be a Sophistress, you argue so smartly. + +_Mag._ I won't tell you what you seem to me to be. But why does this +Houshold-Stuff displease you? + +_Ant._ Because a Spinning-Wheel is a Woman's Weapon. + +_Mag._ Is it not a Woman's Business to mind the Affairs of her Family, +and to instruct her Children? + +_Ant._ Yes, it is. + +_Mag._ And do you think so weighty an Office can be executed without +Wisdom? + +_Ant._ I believe not. + +_Mag._ This Wisdom I learn from Books. + +_Ant._ I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will not +see one Book in my Chamber. + +_Mag._ The Monks are finely look'd after all this While. + +_Ant._ I could dispense with Books; but I can't bear _Latin_ Books. + +_Mag._ Why so? + +_Ant._ Because that Tongue is not fit for a Woman. + +_Mag._ I want to know the Reason. + +_Ant._ Because it contributes nothing towards the Defence of their +Chastity. + +_Mag._ Why then do _French_ Books that are stuff'd with the most +trifling Novels, contribute to Chastity? + +_Ant._ But there is another Reason. + +_Mag._ Let it be what it will, tell me it plainly. + +_Ant._ They are more secure from the Priests, if they don't understand +_Latin_. + +_Mag._ Nay, there's the least Danger from that Quarter according to your +Way of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know any +Thing of _Latin_. + +_Ant._ The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rare +unusual Thing for a Woman to understand _Latin._ + +_Mag._ What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worst +Examples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do with +Custom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought to +accustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which was +uncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant would +become pleasant; and that which seemed unbecoming would look graceful. + +_Ant._ I hear you. + +_Mag._ Is it becoming a _German_ Woman to learn to speak _French_. + +_Ant._ Yes it is. + +_Mag._ Why is it? + +_Ant._ Because then she will be able to converse with those that speak +_French_. + +_Mag._ And why then is it unbecoming in me to learn _Latin_, that I may +be able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned and +wise Authors, and faithful Counsellors? + +_Ant._ Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough of +themselves. + +_Mag._ What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as for +myself, let me have never so little, I had rather spend them in Study, +than in Prayers mumbled over without the Heart going along with them, or +sitting whole Nights in quaffing off Bumpers. + +_Ant._ Bookishness makes Folks mad. + +_Mag._ And does not the Rattle of your Pot-Companions, your Banterers, +and Drolls, make you mad? + +_Ant._ No, they pass the Time away. + +_Mag._ How can it be then, that such pleasant Companions should make me +mad? + +_Ant._ That's the common Saying. + +_Mag._ But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do we +see grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up all +Night tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has made +People mad? + +_Ant._ By my Faith, I would not have a learned Wife. + +_Mag._ But I bless myself, that I have gotten a Husband that is not +like yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him. + +_Ant._ Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all we +must die. + +_Mag._ Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, had +you rather die a Fool or a wise Man? + +_Ant._ Why, a wise Man, if I could come at it without taking Pains. + +_Mag._ But there is nothing to be attained in this Life without Pains; +and yet, let us get what we will, and what Pains soever we are at to +attain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much to +be at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of which +will bear us Company unto another Life. + +_Ant._ I have often heard it said, that a wise Woman is twice a Fool. + +_Mag._ That indeed has been often said; but it was by Fools. A Woman +that is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, one +that knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twice +a Fool. + +_Ant._ I can't well tell how it is, that as Panniers don't become an Ox, +so neither does Learning become a Woman. + +_Mag._ But, I suppose, you can't deny but Panniers will look better upon +an Ox, than a Mitre upon an Ass or a Sow. What think you of the Virgin +_Mary_? + +_Ant._ Very highly. + +_Mag._ Was not she bookish? + +_Ant._ Yes; but not as to such Books as these. + +_Mag._ What Books did she read? + +_Ant._ The canonical Hours. + +_Mag._ For the Use of whom? + +_Ant._ Of the Order of _Benedictines_. + +_Mag._ Indeed? What did _Paula_ and _Eustochium_ do? Did not they +converse with the holy Scriptures? + +_Ant._ Ay, but this is a rare Thing now. + +_Mag._ So was a blockheaded Abbot in old Time; but now nothing is more +common. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learning +as for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity as +you think it. There are both in _Spain_ and _Italy_ not a few Women, +that are able to vye with the Men, and there are the _Morites_ in +_England_, and the _Bilibald-duks_ and _Blaureticks_ in _Germany_. So +that unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, that +we shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in the +Churches, and take Possession of your Mitres. + +_Ant._ God forbid. + +_Mag._ Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as you +have begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure you +a Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, and +you must either lay aside your Dress, or perform your Part. + +_Ant._ How came I to fall into this Woman's Company? If you'll come to +see me, I'll treat you more pleasantly. + +_Mag._ After what Manner? + +_Ant._ Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, and +laugh. + +_Mag._ I can hardly forbear laughing now. + + + + +_The EPITHALAMIUM of PETRUS AEGIDIUS._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Muses and Graces are brought in, as singing the + Epithalamium of_ Peter AEgidius. Alipius _spies the nine + Muses, and the three Graces coming out of a Grove, which_ + Balbinus _can't see: They take their Way to_ Antwerp, _to + the Wedding of_ AEgidius, _to whom they wish all joy, that + nothing of Difference or Uneasiness may ever arise + between 'em. How those Marriages prove that are made, the + Graces not favouring 'em. Congratulatory Verses._ + + +ALIPIUS, BALBINUS, MUSAE. + +_Al._ Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here? + +_Ba._ Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which +is to be seen. + +_Al._ Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight. + +_Ba._ Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it. + +_Al._ Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill. + +_Ba._ I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else. + +_Al._ No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there? + +_Ba._ What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a +bit of a Maid any where. + +_Al._ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How +neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight. + +_Ba._ What! Are you possess'd? + +_Al._ Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three +Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em +more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of +'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of +Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How +becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing +and trailing after 'em. + +_Ba._ I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days, +than you do. + +_Al._ You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time. + +_Ba._ Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't? + +_Al._ Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body +can see 'em but they that have. + +_Ba._ I have drank plentifully out of _Scotus's_ Fountain. + +_Al._ But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs. + +_Ba._ But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as +you? + +_Al._ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear +Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable +of such Sights as these. + +_Ba._ Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too. + +_Al._ Is there? That's clever, I vow. + +_Ba._ But prithee, sprinkle me with it. + +_Al._ Now look, do you see now? + +_Ba._ As much as I did before. Sprinkle me again. + +_Al._ Well, now do you see? + +_Ba._ Just as much; sprinkle me plentifully. + +_Al._ I believe you can't but see now. + +_Ba._ Now I can scarce see you. + +_Al._ Ah poor Man, how total a Darkness has seized your Eyes! This Art +would open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plague +yourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest you +should come off as ill by seeing the Muses, as _Actaeon_ did by seeing +_Diana_: For you'd perhaps be in Danger of being turn'd either into a +Hedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. But +however, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make a +Noise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, most +welcome Goddesses. + +_Mu._ And you heartily, Lover of the Muses. + +_Al._ What makes you pull me so? + +_Ba._ You an't as good as your Word. + +_Al._ Why don't you hear 'em? + +_Ba._ I hear somewhat, but I don't know what it is. + +_Al._ Well, I'll speak _Latin_ to 'em then. Whither are you going so +fine and so brisk? Are you going to _Louvain_ to see the University? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we won't go thither. + +_Al._ Why not? + +_Mu._ What Place is for us, where so many Hogs are grunting, Camels and +Asses braying, Jackdaws cawing, and Magpies chattering? + +_Al._ But for all that, there are some there that are your Admirers. + +_Mu._ We know that, and therefore we'll go thither a few Years hence. +The successive Period of Ages has not yet brought on that Time; for +there will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or a +Temple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred any +where else. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour to +our Country? + +_Mu._ You may know it, that are one of our Priests. There's no doubt, +but you have heard the Name of the _Buslidians_, famous all the World +over. + +_Al._ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palaces +of the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere the +great _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, who +has approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Son +of _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be a +greater Man than his Father? + +_Mu._ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth the +Happiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberal +Studies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left two +brothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_. + +_Al._ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'd +with all Manner of Literature, and adorn'd with every Kind of Virtue. + +_Mu._ But the Destinies won't suffer him to be long-liv'd neither, +though no Man in the World better deserves to be immortaliz'd. + +_Al._ How do you know that? + +_Mu._ We had it from _Apollo_. + +_Al._ How envious are the Destinies, to take from us all desirable +Things so hastily! + +_Mu._ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dying +with great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of a +College at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teach +publickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring a +great Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'll +reside at _Louvain_, with all our Hearts. + +_Al._ But whither are you going now? + +_Mu._ To _Antwerp_. + +_Al._ What, the Muses and Graces going to a Fair? + +_Mu._ No, we assure you, we are not going to a Fair; but to a Wedding. + +_Al._ What have Virgins to do at Weddings? + +_Mu._ 'Tis no indecent Thing at all, for Virgins to be at such a Wedding +as this is. + +_Al._ Pray what Sort of a Marriage is it? + +_Mu._ A holy, undefiled, and chaste Marriage, such a one as _Pallas_ +herself need not be asham'd to be at: Nay, more than that, we believe +she will be at it. + +_Al._ Mayn't a Body know the Bride and Bridegroom's Name? + +_Mu._ We believe you must needs know that most courteous and +accomplish'd Youth in all Kinds of polite Learning, _Peter AEgidius_. + +_Al._ You have named an Angel, not a Man. + +_Mu._ The pretty Maid _Cornelia_, a fit Match for _Apollo_ himself, is +going to be married to _AEgidius_. + +_Al._ Indeed he has been a great Admirer of you, even from his Infancy. + +_Mu._ We are going to sing him an Epithalamium. + +_Al._ What, and will the Graces dance too? + +_Mu._ They will not only dance, but they will also unite those two true +Lovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that no +Difference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall never +hear any Thing from him, but my Life; nor he from her, but my Soul: Nay: +and even old Age itself, shall be so far from diminishing that, that it +shall increase the Pleasure. + +_Al._ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could ever +be able to grow old. + +_Mu._ You say very right, for it is rather a Maturity, than an old Age. + +_Al._ But I have known a great many, to whom these kind Words have been +chang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; and +instead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flown +about. The Husband, instead of my dear Soul, has been call'd Blockhead, +Toss-Pot, Swill-Tub; and the Wife, Sow, Fool, dirty Drab. + +_Mu._ You say very true; but these Marriages were made when the Graces +were out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper will +always maintain a mutual Affection. + +_Al._ Indeed you speak of such a happy Marriage as is very seldom seen. + +_Mu._ An uncommon Felicity is due to such uncommon Virtues. + +_Al._ But what! Will the Matrimony be without _Juno_ and _Venus_? + +_Mu._ Indeed _Juno_ won't be there, she's a scolding Goddess, and is but +seldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthly +drunken _Venus_; but another heavenly one, which makes a Union of Minds. + +_Al._ Then the Marriage you speak of, is like to be a barren one. + +_Mu._ No, by no Means, but rather like to be the most happily fruitful. + +_Al._ What, does that heavenly _Venus_ produce any Thing but Souls then? + +_Mu._ Yes, she gives Bodies to the Souls; but such Bodies, as shall be +exactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choice +Ointment into a curious Box of Pearl. + +_Al._ Where is she then? + +_Mu._ Look, she is coming towards you, a pretty Way off. + +_Al._ Oh! I see her now. O good God, how bright she is! How majestical +and beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is a +homely one. + +_Mu._ Do you see what modest _Cupids_ there are; they are no blind ones, +such as that _Venus_ has, that makes Mankind mad? But these are sharp +little Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentle +Fires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate the +Lover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocal +Affection. + +_Al._ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's a +blessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hear +the Marriage-Song that you design to present 'em with? + +_Mu._ Nay, we were just a-going to ask you to hear it. + +CLIO. +Peter _hath married fair_ Cornelia, _Propitious Heaven! bless +the Wedding-Day._ + +MELPOMENE. +_Concord of_ Turtle-Doves _between them be, And of the_ +Jack-daw _the Vivacity_. + +THALIA. +_From_ Gracchus _may he win the Prize, And for_ Cornelia's +_Life, his own despise._ + +EUTERPE. +_May she in Love exceed_ Admetus' _Wife, Who laid her own +down, for her Husband's Life._ + +TERPSICHORE. +_May he love her with stronger Flame, But much more +happy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'd +Mate._ + +ERATO. +_May she love him with no less Flame, But with much better +Fate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate._ + +CALLIOPE. +_For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to the +famous_ Nasica. + +URANIA. +_The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be._ + +POLYHYMNIA. +_May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equal +their Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on them +wait._ + + +_Al._ I should very much envy _Peter AEgidius_ so much Happiness, but +that he is a Man of such Candour, that he himself envies no Body. + +_Mu._ It is now high Time for us to prosecute our Journey. + +_Al._ Have you any Service to command me at _Louvain_? + +_Mu._ That thou wouldst recommend us to all our sincere loving Friends; +but especially to our antient Admirers. _John Paludus, Jodocus Gaverius, +Martin Dorpius_, and _John Borsalus._ + +_Al._ Well, I'll be sure to take Care to do your Message. What shall I +say to the rest? + +_Mu._ I'll tell you in your Ear. + +_Al._ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainly +be done out of Hand. + + + + +_The EXORCISM or APPARITION._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy detects the Artifices of Impostors, who + impose upon the credulous and simple, framing Stories of + Apparitions of Daemons and Ghosts, and divine Voices._ + Polus _is the Author of a Rumour, that an Apparition of a + certain Soul was heard in his Grounds, howling after a + lamentable Manner: At another Place he pretends to see a + Dragon in the Air, in the middle of the Day, and + persuades other Persons that they saw it too; and he + prevails upon_ Faunus, _a Parish-Priest of a neighbouring + Town, to make Trial of the Truth of the Matters, who + consents to do it, and prepares Exorcisms._ Polus _gets + upon a black Horse, throws Fire about, and with divers + Tricks deceives credulous_ Faunus, _and other Men of none + of the deepest Penetration._ + + +THOMAS _and_ ANSELM. + +_Tho._ What good News have you had, that you laugh to yourself thus, as +if you had found a Treasure? + +_Ans._ Nay, you are not far from the Matter. + +_Tho._ But won't you impart it to your Companion, what good Thing soever +it is? + +_Ans._ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebody +to communicate my Merriment to. + +_Tho._ Come on then, let's have it. + +_Ans._ I was just now told the pleasantest Story, which you'd swear was +a Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, as +well as you know me. + +_Tho._ I'm with Child to hear it. + +_Ans._ Do you know _Polus, Faunus_'s Son-in-Law? + +_Tho._ Perfectly well. + +_Ans._ He's both the Contriver and Actor of this Play. + +_Tho._ I am apt enough to believe that; for he can Act any Part to the +Life. + +_Ans._ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not far +from _London_. + +_Tho._ Phoo, very well; he and I have drank together many a Time there. + +_Ans._ Then you know there is a Way between two straight Rows of Trees. + +_Tho._ Upon the left Hand, about two Flight Shot from the House? + +_Ans._ You have it. On one Side of the Way there is a dry Ditch, +overgrown with Thorns and Brambles; and then there's a Way that leads +into an open Field from a little Bridge. + +_Tho._ I remember it. + +_Ans._ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, of +a Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that were +every now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul of +somebody that was miserably tormented. + +_Tho._ Who was it that raised this Report? + +_Ans._ Who but _Polus_, that made this the Prologue to his Comedy. + +_Tho._ What did he mean by inventing such a Flam? + +_Ans._ I know nothing; but that it is the Humour of the Man, he takes +Delight to make himself Sport, by playing upon the Simplicity of People, +by such Fictions as these. I'll tell you what he did lately of the same +Kind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of the +Company were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was a +wonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there. +_Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breast +with the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to an +Air of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! They +that rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell again +to signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, says +he, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring to +know what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointing +with his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, that +monstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in a +Circle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, every +now and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he might +not seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation of +him, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they could +not see what was so plain to be seen: And in short, in three Days Time, +the Rumour of this portentous Apparition had spread all over _England_. +And it is wonderful to think how popular Fame had amplified the Story, +and some pretended seriously to expound to what this Portent did +predict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mighty +Pleasure in the Folly of these People. + +_Tho._ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of the +Apparition. + +_Ans._ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in +_Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they add +the same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, this +Man thought himself wiser than is common, especially in holy Matters) +came very opportunely to pay a Visit to _Polus_. + +_Tho._ I understand the Matter: There is one found out to be an Actor in +this Play. + +_Ans._ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of this +Apparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heard +of the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as he +was a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poor +Soul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in any +Doubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walk +near that Bridge about ten a-Clock, and you shall hear miserable Cries; +take who you will for a Companion along with you, and so you will hear +both more safely and better. + +_Tho._ Well, what then? + +_Ans._ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Hunting +or Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away all +Opportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walks +about, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himself +in a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, by +speaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow of +it, gave it a most mournful Sound. + +_Tho._ This Story, as far as I see, out-does _Menander's Phasma_. + +_Ans._ You'll say more, if you shall hear it out. _Faunus_ goes Home, +being impatient to tell what he had heard. _Polus_ taking a shorter Way, +had got Home before him. _Faunus_ up and tells _Polus_ all that past, +and added something of his own to it, to make the Matter more wonderful. + +_Tho._ Could _Polus_ keep his Countenance in the mean Time? + +_Ans._ He keep his Countenance! He has his Countenance in his Hand, you +would have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End +_Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes the +Business of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, in +contriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, for +he was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the most +powerful Exorcisms that he could get, and added some new ones to them, +as the Bowels of the Virgin _Mary_, and the Bones of St. _Winifred_. +After that, he makes Choice of a Place in the plain Field, near the +Bramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very large +Circle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. And +all this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there a +great Vessel full of holy Water, and about his Neck he had a holy Stole +(as they call'd it) upon which hung the Beginning of the Gospel of +_John_. He had in his Pocket a little Piece of Wax, which the Bishop of +_Rome_ used to consecrate once a Year, which is commonly call'd _Agnus +Dei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselves +against evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to be +so formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be an +evil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for all +this, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined to +take some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid, +that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, the +whole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priest +there-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; and +indeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was a +Man fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being prepared +and in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priest +enter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made a +miserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and +_Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings from +thence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a great +many of them. + +_Tho._ Well, what do they do? + +_Ans._ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Fire +along with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew the +Fire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle. + +_Tho._ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat upon +People? + +_Ans._ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have been +mischievous to them. + +_Tho._ How so? + +_Ans._ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of the +Fire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End of +the first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered into +Discourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter, +enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-daemons +appear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, and +breathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break into +the Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by the +Power and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into +_Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with great +Solemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with the +Vehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at a +pretty Distance, with their black Horses, with a most outragious Noise, +making a Feint, as if they would break into the Circle. + +_Tho._ Had they no Fire then? + +_Ans._ No, none at all; for that had lik'd to have fallen out very +unluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope over +the Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though they +were beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both the +Priest and holy Water-Pot all together. + +_Tho._ This Reward the Parish-Priest had for playing his Part? + +_Ans._ Yes, he had; and for all that, he had rather suffer this than +quit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over the +Matter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what great +Danger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evil +Spirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firm +Persuasion, that there was no Daemon, let him be ever so mischievous or +impudent, that could possibly break into this Circle. + +_Tho._ This _Faunus_ was not far from being a Fool. + +_Ans._ You have heard nothing yet. The Comedy being thus far advanc'd, +_Polus_'s Son-in-Law comes in very good Time, for he had married +_Polus's_ eldest Daughter; he's a wonderful merry Droll, you know. + +_Tho._ Know him! Ay, I know him, that he has no Aversion for such Tricks +as these. + +_Ans._ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgent +Affair in the World, if such a Comedy were either to be seen or acted. +His Father-in-Law tells him the whole Story, and gives him his Part, +that was, to act the Ghost. He puts on a Dress, and wraps himself up in +a Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through his +Shrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Place +where this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_ +lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way off +in the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a rueful +Groaning. While _Faunus_ was adjuring the Ghost to declare who he was, +_Polus_ of a sudden leaps out of the Thicket, dress'd like a Devil, and +making a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, it +is mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, as +if he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if he +was beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holy +Water, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when this +guardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with the +Soul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that he +was the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered +_Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then they +being Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ might +deliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a long +Discourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it was +not permitted to stay to talk any longer, because its Time was come, +that it must go whither its Devil pleased to carry it; but yet promised +to come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. They +meet together again at _Polus's_ House, who was the Master of the Show. +There the Exorcist relates what was done, and tho' he added some Lies to +the Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartily +affected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, that +it was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Torments +of an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. There +happened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism. + +_Tho._ Prithee what was that? + +_Ans._ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted the +Devil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do, +break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with his +Exorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last cries +out, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with a +Wench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, it +seemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched with +this Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, and +whispered something in the Priest's Ear. _Polus_ seeing that, retires, +that he might not hear what it was not fit for him to hear. + +_Tho._ In Truth, _Polus_ was a very modest, religious Devil. + +_Ans._ He was so, otherwise he might have been blamed for not observing +a _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing him +Satisfaction. + +_Tho._ What was that? + +_Ans._ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, by +which he conjectured he had had to do with her three Times that Night. + +_Tho._ He was an irregular _Regular_. + +_Ans._ They are but Men, and this is but human Frailty. + +_Tho._ Well, proceed: what was done after this? + +_Ans._ Now _Faunus_ more couragiously advances to the very Edge of the +Circle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil's +Heart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if I +had been wise I had not given you that Caution: Many are of Opinion, +that what you have once confess'd is immediately struck out of the +Devil's Memory, that he can never be able to twit you in the Teeth for +it. + +_Tho._ What a ridiculous Conceit do you tell me of? + +_Ans._ But to draw towards a Conclusion of the Matter: This Dialogue +with the Ghost held for some Days; at last it came to this Issue: The +Exorcist asking the Soul, If there was any Way by which it might +possibly be delivered from its Torments, it answered, it might, if the +Money that it had left behind, being gotten by Cheating, should be +restored. Then, says _Faunus_, What if it were put into the Hands of +good People, to be disposed of to pious Uses? The Spirit reply'd, That +might do. The Exorcist was rejoic'd at this; he enquires particularly, +What Sum there was of it? The Spirit reply'd, That it was a vast Sum, +and might prove very good and commodious: it told the Place too where +the Treasure was hid, but it was a long Way off: And it order'd what +Uses it should be put to. + +_Tho._ What were they? + +_Ans._ That three Persons were to undertake a Pilgrimage; one to the +Threshold of St. _Peter_; another to salute St. _James_ at +_Compostella;_ and the third should kiss _Jesus'_s Comb at _Tryers_; and +after that, a vast Number of Services and Masses should be performed in +several great Monasteries; and as to the Overplus, he should dispose of +it as he pleas'd. Now _Faunus'_s Mind was fixed upon the Treasure; he +had, in a Manner, swallowed it in his Mind. + +_Tho._ That's a common Disease; but more peculiarly thrown in the +Priests Dish, upon all Occasions. + +_Ans._ After nothing had been omitted that related to the Affair of the +Money, the Exorcist being put upon it by _Polus_, began to put Questions +to the Spirit, about several Arts, as Alchymy and Magick. To these +Things the Spirit gave Answers, putting off the Resolution of these +Questions for the present, promising it would make larger Discoveries as +soon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches of +its Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be the +third Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in good +Earnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in all +Companies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things to +Monasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to the +Place, and finds the Tokens, but did not dare to dig for the Treasure, +because the Spirit had thrown this Caution in the Way, that it would be +extremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had been +performed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt out +the Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiming +his Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, and +especially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of a +prudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quite +contrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd his +Mind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, to +make him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres and +Devils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was so +pale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Sprite +than a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and would +have been so, had it not been timely prevented. + +_Tho._ Well, let this be the last Act of the Play. + +_Ans._ Well, you shall have it. _Polus_ and his Son-in-Law, hammer'd out +this Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in a +strange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such as +Gold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Form +of the Epistle was this: + +Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his gracious +Deliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _that +thou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God has +respected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, has +delivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels. +Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next to +the Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give thee +publick Thanks. In the mean Time, see that thou live merrily._ + + _From the_ Imperial Heaven, _the + Ides of_ September, _Anno_ 1498. + _Under the Seal of my own Ring._ + +This Epistle was laid privately under the Altar where _Faunus_ was to +perform divine Service: This being done, there was one appointed to +advertise him of it, as if he had found it by Chance. And now he carries +the Letter about him, and shews it as a very sacred Thing; and believes +nothing more firmly, than that it was brought from Heaven by an Angel. + +_Tho._ This is not delivering the Man from his Madness, but changing the +Sort of it. + +_Ans._ Why truly, so it is, only he is now more pleasantly mad than +before. + +_Tho._ I never was wont to give much Credit to Stories of Apparitions in +common; but for the Time to come, I shall give much less: For I believe +that many Things that have been printed and published, as true +Relations, were only by Artifice and Imposture, Impositions upon +credulous Persons, and such as _Faunus._ + +_Ans._ And I also believe that a great many of them are of the same +Kind. + + + + +_The ALCHYMIST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _This Colloquy shews the Dotage of an old Man, otherwise + a very prudent Person, upon this Art; being trick'd by a + Priest, under Pretence of a two-Fold Method in this Art, + the_ long Way _and the_ short Way. _By the long Way he + puts an egregious Cheat upon old_ Balbinus: _The + Alchymist lays the Fault upon his Coals and Glasses. + Presents of Gold are sent to the Virgin_ Mary, _that she + would assist them in their Undertakings. Some Courtiers + having come to the Knowledge that_ Balbinus _practis'd + this unlawful Art, are brib'd. At last the Alchymist is + discharg'd, having Money given him to bear his Charges._ + + +PHILECOUS, LALUS. + +_Phi._ What News is here, that _Lalus_ laughs to himself so that he e'en +giggles again, every now and then signing himself with the Sign of the +Cross? I'll interrupt his Felicity. God bless you heartily, my very good +Friend _Lalus_; you seem to me to be very happy. + +_La._ But I shall be much happier, if I make you a Partaker of my merry +Conceitedness. + +_Phi._ Prithee, then, make me happy as soon as you can. + +_La._ Do you know _Balbinus_? + +_Phi._ What, that learned old Gentleman that has such a very good +Character in the World? + +_La._ It is as you say; but no Man is wise at all Times, or is without +his blind Side. This Man, among his many good Qualifications, has some +Foibles: He has been a long Time bewitch'd with the Art call'd +_Alchymy_. + +_Phi._ Believe me, that you call only Foible, is a dangerous Disease. + +_La._ However that is, notwithstanding he had been so often bitten by +this Sort of People, yet he has lately suffer'd himself to be impos'd +upon again. + +_Phi._ In what Manner? + +_La._ A certain Priest went to him, saluted him with great Respect, and +accosted him in this Manner: Most learned _Balbinus_, perhaps you will +wonder that I, being a Stranger to you, should thus interrupt you, who, +I know, are always earnestly engag'd in the most sacred Studies. +_Balbinus_ gave him a Nod, as was his Custom; for he is wonderfully +sparing of his Words. + +_Phi._ That's an Argument of Prudence. + +_La._ But the other, as the wiser of the two, proceeds. You will forgive +this my Importunity, when you shall know the Cause of my coming to you. +Tell me then, says _Balbinus_, but in as few Words as you can. I will, +says he, as briefly as I am able. You know, most learned of Men, that +the Fates of Mortals are various; and I can't tell among which I should +class myself, whether among the happy or the miserable; for when I +contemplate my Fate on one Part, I account myself most happy, but if on +the other Part, I am one of the most miserable. _Balbinus_ pressing him +to contract his Speech into a narrow Compass; I will have done +immediately, most learned _Balbinus_, says he, and it will be the more +easy for me to do it, to a Man who understands the whole Affair so well, +that no Man understands it better. + +_Phi._ You are rather drawing an Orator than an Alchymist. + +_La._ You shall hear the Alchymist by and by. This Happiness, says he, I +have had from a Child, to have learn'd that most desirable Art, I mean +Alchymy, the very Marrow of universal Philosophy. At the very Mention of +the Name Alchymy, _Balbinus_ rais'd himself a little, that is to say, +in Gesture only, and fetching a deep Sigh, bid him go forward. Then he +proceeds: But miserable Man that I am, said he, by not falling into the +right Way! _Balbinus_ asking him what Ways those were he spoke of; Good +Sir, says he, you know (for what is there, most learned Sir, that you +are ignorant of?) that there are two Ways in this Art, one which is +_call'd the Longation, and the other which is call'd the Curtation_. But +by my bad Fate, I have fallen upon _Longation. Balbinus_ asking him, +what was the Difference of the Ways; it would be impudent in me, says +he, to mention this to a Man, to whom all Things are so well known, that +Nobody knows them better; therefore I humbly address myself to you, that +you would take Pity on me, and vouchsafe to communicate to me that most +happy Way of _Curtation_. And by how much the better you understand this +Art, by so much the less Labour you will be able to impart it to me: Do +not conceal so great a Gift from your poor Brother that is ready to die +with Grief. And as you assist me in this, so may _Jesus Christ_ ever +enrich you with more sublime Endowments. He thus making no End of his +Solemnity of Obtestations, _Balbinus_ was oblig'd to confess, that he +was entirely ignorant of what he meant by _Longation_ and _Curtation_, +and bids him explain the Meaning of those Words. Then he began; Altho' +Sir, says he, I know I speak to a Person that is better skill'd than +myself, yet since you command me I will do it: Those that have spent +their whole Life in this divine Art, change the Species of Things two +Ways, the one is shorter, but more hazardous, the other is longer, but +safer. I account myself very unhappy, that I have laboured in that Way +that does not suit my Genius, nor could I yet find out any Body who +would shew me the other Way that I am so passionately desirous of; but +at last God has put it into my Mind to apply myself to you, a Man of as +much Piety as Learning; your Learning qualifies you to answer my Request +with Ease, and your Piety will dispose you to help a Christian Brother, +whose Life is in your Hands. To make the Matter short, when this crafty +Fellow, with such Expressions as these, had clear'd himself from all +Suspicion of a Design, and had gain'd Credit, that he understood one Way +perfectly well, _Balbinus_'s Mind began to have an Itch to be meddling. +And at last, when he could hold no longer, Away with your Methods, says +he, of _Curtation_, the Name of which I never heard before, I am so far +from understanding it. Tell me sincerely, Do you throughly understand +Longation? Phoo! says he, perfectly well; but I don't love the +Tediousness of it. Then _Balbinus_ asked him, how much Time it wou'd +take up. Too much, says he; almost a whole Year; but in the mean Time it +is the safest Way. Never trouble yourself about that, says _Balbinus_, +although it should take up two Years, if you can but depend upon your +Art. To shorten the Story: They came to an Agreement, that the Business +should be set on foot privately in _Balbinus_'s, House, upon this +Condition, that he should find Art, and _Balbinus_ Money; and the Profit +should be divided between them, although the Imposter modestly offered +that _Balbinus_ should have the whole Gain. They both took an Oath of +Secrecy, after the Manner of those that are initiated into mysterious +Secrets; and presently Money is paid down for the Artist to buy Pots, +Glasses, Coals, and other Necessaries for furnishing the Laboratory: +This Money our Alchymist lavishes away on Whores, Gaming, and Drinking. + +_Phi._ This is one Way, however, of changing the Species of Things. + +_La. Balbinus_ pressing him to fall upon the Business; he replies, Don't +you very well know, that _what's well begun is half done?_ It is a great +Matter to have the Materials well prepar'd. At last he begins to set up +the Furnace; and here there was Occasion for more Gold, as a Bait to +catch more: For as a Fish is not caught without a Bait, so Alchymists +must cast Gold in, before they can fetch Gold out. In the mean Time, +_Balbinus_ was busy in his Accounts; for he reckoned thus, if one Ounce +made fifteen, what would be the Product of two thousand; for that was +the Sum that he determined to spend. When the Alchymist had spent this +Money and two Months Time, pretending to be wonderfully busy about the +Bellows and the Coals, Balbinus enquired of him, whether the Business +went forward? At first he made no Answer; but at last he urging the +Question, he made him Answer, As all great Works do; the greatest +Difficulty of which is, in entring upon them: He pretended he had made a +Mistake in buying the Coals, for he had bought Oaken ones, when they +should have been Beechen or Fir ones. There was a hundred Crowns gone; +and he did not spare to go to Gaming again briskly. Upon giving him new +Cash, he gets new Coals, and then the Business is begun again with more +Resolution than before; just as Soldiers do, when they have happened to +meet with a Disaster, they repair it by Bravery. When the Laboratory had +been kept hot for some Months, and the golden Fruit was expected, and +there was not a Grain of Gold in the Vessel (for the Chymist had spent +all that too) another Pretence was found out, That the Glasses they +used, were not rightly tempered: For, as every Block will not make a +Mercury, so Gold will not be made in any Kind of Glass. And by how much +more Money had been spent, by so much the lother he was to give it over. + +_Phi._ Just as it is with Gamesters, as if it were not better to lose +some than all. + +_La._ Very true. The Chymist swore he was never so cheated since he was +born before; but now having found out his Mistake, he could proceed with +all the Security in the World, and fetch up that Loss with great +Interest. The Glasses being changed, the Laboratory is furnished the +third Time: Then the Operator told him, the Operation would go on more +successfully, if he sent a Present of Crowns to the Virgin Mary, that +you know is worshipped at _Paris_; for it was an holy Act: And in Order +to have it carried on successfully, it needed the Favour of the Saints. +_Balbinus_ liked this Advice wonderfully well, being a very pious Man +that never let a Day pass, but he performed some Act of Devotion or +other. The Operator undertakes the religious Pilgrimage; but spends this +devoted Money in a Bawdy-House in the next Town: Then he goes back, and +tells _Balbinus_ that he had great Hope that all would succeed according +to their Mind, the Virgin _Mary_ seem'd so to favour their Endeavours. +When he had laboured a long Time, and not one Crumb of Gold appearing, +_Balbinus_ reasoning the Matter with him, he answered, that nothing like +this had ever happened all his Days to him, tho' he had so many Times +had Experience of his Method; nor could he so much as imagine what +should be the Reason of this Failing. After they had beat their Brains a +long Time about the Matter, _Balbinus_ bethought himself, whether he had +any Day miss'd going to Chapel, or saying the _Horary Prayers_, for +nothing would succeed, if these were omitted. Says the Imposter you have +hit it. Wretch that I am, I have been guilty of that once or twice by +Forgetfulness, and lately rising from Table, after a long Dinner, I had +forgot to say the Salutation of the Virgin. Why then, says _Balbinus_, +it is no Wonder, that a Thing of this Moment succeeds no better. The +Trickster undertakes to perform twelve Services for two that he had +omitted, and to repay ten Salutations for that one. When Money every now +and then fail'd this extravagant Operator, and he could not find out any +Pretence to ask for more, he at last bethought himself of this Project. +He comes Home like one frighted out of his Wits, and in a very mournful +Tone cries out, O _Balbinus_ I am utterly undone, undone; I am in Danger +of my Life. _Balbinus_ was astonished, and was impatient to know what +was the Matter. The Court, says he, have gotten an Inkling of what we +have been about, and I expect nothing else but to be carried to Gaol +immediately. _Balbinus_, at the hearing of this, turn'd pale as Ashes; +for you know it is capital with us, for any Man to practice _Alchymy_ +without a License from the Prince: He goes on: Not, says he, that I am +afraid of Death myself, I wish that were the worst that would happen, I +fear something more cruel. _Balbinus_ asking him what that was, he +reply'd, I shall be carried away into some Castle, and there be forc'd +to work all my Days, for those I have no Mind to serve. Is there any +Death so bad as such a Life? The Matter was then debated, _Balbinus_ +being a Man that very well understood the Art of Rhetorick, casts his +Thoughts every Way, if this Mischief could be prevented any Way. Can't +you deny the Crime, says he? By no Means, says the other; the Matter is +known among the Courtiers, and they have such Proof of it that it can't +be evaded, and there is no defending of the Fact; for the Law is +point-blank against it. Many Things having been propos'd, but coming to +no conclusion, that seem'd feasible; says the Alchymist, who wanted +present Money, O _Balbinus_ we apply ourselves to slow Counsels, when +the Matter requires a present Remedy. It will not be long before they +will be here that will apprehend me, and carry me away into Tribulation. +And last of all, seeing _Balbinus_ at a Stand, says the Alchymist, I am +as much at a Loss as you, nor do I see any Way left, but to die like a +Man, unless you shall approve what I am going to propose, which is more +profitable than honourable; but Necessity is a hard Chapter. You know +these Sort of Men are hungry after Money, and so may be the more easily +brib'd to Secrecy. Although it is a hard Case to give these Rascals +Money to throw away; but yet, as the Case now stands, I see no better +Way. _Balbinus_ was of the same Opinion, and he lays down thirty Guineas +to bribe them to hush up the Matter. + +_Phi. Balbinus_ was wonderful liberal, as you tell the Story. + +_La._ Nay, in an honest Cause, you would sooner have gotten his Teeth +out of his Head than Money. Well, then the Alchymist was provided for, +who was in no Danger, but that of wanting Money for his Wench. + +_Phi._ I admire _Balbinus_ could not smoak the Roguery all this While. + +_La._ This is the only Thing that he's soft in, he's as sharp as a +Needle in any Thing else. Now the Furnace is set to work again with new +Money; but first, a short Prayer is made to the Virgin Mary to prosper +their Undertakings. By this Time there had been a whole Year spent, +first one Obstacle being pretended, and then another, so that all the +Expence and Labour was lost. In the mean Time there fell out one most +ridiculous Chance. + +_Phi._ What was that? + +_La._ The Alchymist had a criminal Correspondence with a certain +Courtier's Lady: The Husband beginning to be jealous, watch'd him +narrowly, and in the Conclusion, having Intelligence that the Priest was +in the Bed-Chamber, he comes Home before he was look'd for, knocks at +the Door. + +_Phi._ What did he design to do to him? + +_La._ What! Why nothing very good, either kill him or geld him. When the +Husband being very pressing to come, threatned he would break open the +Door, if his Wife did not open it, they were in bodily Fear within, and +cast about for some present Resolution; and Circumstances admitting no +better, he pull'd off his Coat, and threw himself out of a narrow +Window, but not without both Danger and Mischief, and so got away. Such +Stories as these you know are soon spread, and it came to _Balbinus_'s +Ear, and the Chymist guess'd it would be so. + +_Phi._ There was no getting off of this Business. + +_La._ Yes, he got off better here, than he did out at the Window. Hear +the Man's Invention: _Balbinus_ said not a Word to him about the Matter, +but it might be read in his Countenance, that he was no Stranger to the +Talk of the Town. The Chymist knew _Balbinus_ to be a Man of Piety, and +in some Points, I was going to say, superstitious, and such Persons are +very ready to forgive one that falls under his Crime, let it be never so +great; therefore, he on Purpose begins a Talk about the Success of their +Business, complaining, that it had not succeeded as it us'd to do, and +as he would have it; and he-wondered greatly, what should be the Reason +of it: Upon this Discourse, _Balbinus_, who seemed otherwise to have +been bent upon Silence, taking an Occasion, was a little moved: It is +no hard Matter, says he, to guess what the Obstacle is. Sins are the +Obstacles that hinder our Success, for pure Works should be done by pure +Persons. At this Word, the Projector fell down on his Knees, and beating +his Breast with a very mournful Tone, and dejected Countenance, says, O +_Balbinus_, what you have said is very true, it is Sin, it is Sin that +has been the Hinderance; but my Sins, not yours; for I am not asham'd to +confess my Uncleanness before you, as I would before my most holy Father +Confessor: The Frailty of my Flesh overcame me, and Satan drew me into +his Snares; and O miserable Wretch that I am! Of a Priest, I am become +an Adulterer; and yet, the Offering that you sent to the Virgin Mother, +is not wholly lost neither, for I had perish'd inevitably, if she had +not helped me; for the Husband broke open the Door upon me, and the +Window was too little for me to get out at; and in this Pinch of Danger, +I bethought myself of the blessed Virgin, and I fell upon my Knees, and +besought her, that if the Gift was acceptable to her, she would assist +me, and in a Minute I went to the Window, (for Necessity forced me so to +do) and found it large enough for me to get out at. + +_Phi._ Well, and did _Balbinus_ believe all this? + +_La._ Believe it, yes, and pardon'd him too, and admonish'd him very +religiously, not to be ungrateful to the blessed Virgin: Nay, there was +more Money laid down, upon his giving his Promise, that he would for the +future carry on the Process with Purity. + +_Phi._ Well, what was the End of all this? + +_La._ The Story is very long; but I'll cut it short. When he had play'd +upon _Balbinus_ long enough with these Inventions, and wheedled him out +of a considerable Sum of Money, a certain Gentleman happen'd to come +there, that had known the Knave from a Child: He easily imagining that +he was acting the same Part with _Balbinus_, that he had been acting +every where, admonishes _Balbinus_ privately, and acquainted him what +Sort of a Fellow he harbour'd, advising him to get rid of him as soon +as possible, unless he had a Mind to have him sometime or other, to +rifle his Coffers, and then run away. + +_Phi._ Well, what did _Balbinus_ do then? Sure, he took Care to have him +sent to Gaol? + +_La._ To Gaol? Nay, he gave him Money to bear his Charges, and conjur'd +him by all that was sacred, not to speak a Word of what had happened +between them. And in my Opinion, it was his Wisdom so to do, rather than +to be the common Laughing-stock, and Table-Talk, and run the Risk of the +Confiscation of his Goods besides; for the Imposter was in no Danger; he +knew no more of the Matter than an Ass, and cheating is a small Fault in +these Sort of Cattle. If he had charg'd him with Theft, his Ordination +would have say'd him from the Gallows, and no Body would have been at +the Charge of maintaining such a Fellow in Prison. + +_Phi._ I should pity _Balbinus_; but that he took Pleasure in being +gull'd. + +_La._ I must now make haste to the Hall; at another Time I'll tell you +Stories more ridiculous than this. + +_Phi._ When you shall be at Leisure, I shall be glad to hear them, and +I'll give you Story for Story. + + + + +_The HORSE-CHEAT._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The_ Horse-Cheat _lays open the cheating Tricks of those + that sell or let out Horses to hire; and shews how those + Cheats themselves are sometimes cheated._ + + +AULUS, PHAEDRUS. + +Good God! What a grave Countenance our _Phaedrus_ has put on, gaping +ever and anon into the Air. I'll attack him. _Phaedrus_, what News to +Day? + +_Ph._ Why do you ask me that Question, _Aulus_? + +_Aul._ Because, of a _Phaedrus_, you seem to have become a _Cato_, there +is so much Sourness in your Countenance. + +_Ph._ That's no Wonder, my Friend, I am just come from Confession. + +_Aul._ Nay, then my Wonder's over; but tell me upon your honest Word, +did you confess all? + +_Ph._ All that I could remember, but one. + +_Aul._ And why did you reserve that one? + +_Ph._ Because I can't be out of Love with it. + +_Aul._ It must needs be some pleasant Sin. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether it is a Sin or no; but if you are at Leisure, +you shall hear what it is. + +_Aul._ I would be glad to hear it, with all my Heart. + +_Ph._ You know what cheating Tricks are play'd by our _Jockeys_, who +sell and let out Horses. + +_Aul._ Yes, I know more of them than I wish I did, having been cheated +by them more than once. + +_Ph._ I had Occasion lately to go a pretty long Journey, and I was in +great Haste; I went to one that you would have said was none of the +worst of 'em, and there was some small Matter of Friendship between us. +I told him I had an urgent Business to do, and had Occasion for a strong +able Gelding; desiring, that if he would ever be my Friend in any Thing, +he would be so now. He promised me, that he would use me as kindly as if +I were his own dear Brother. + +_Aul._ It may be he would have cheated his Brother. + +_Ph._ He leads me into the Stable, and bids me chuse which I would out +of them all. At last I pitch'd upon one that I lik'd better than the +rest. He commends my Judgment, protesting that a great many Persons had +had a Mind to that Horse; but he resolved to keep him rather for a +singular Friend, than sell him to a Stranger. I agreed with him as to +the Price, paid him down his Money, got upon the Horse's Back. Upon the +first setting out, my Steed falls a prancing; you would have said he was +a Horse of Mettle; he was plump, and in good Case: But, by that Time I +had rid him an Hour and a half, I perceiv'd he was downright tir'd, nor +could I by spurring him, get him any further. I had heard that such +Jades had been kept for Cheats, that you would take by their Looks to be +very good Horses; but were worth nothing for Service. I says to myself +presently, I am caught. But when I come Home again, I will shew him +Trick for Trick. + +_Aul._ But what did you do in this Case, being a Horseman without a +Horse? + +_Ph._ I did what I was oblig'd to do. I turn'd into the next Village, +and there I set my Horse up privately, with an Acquaintance, and hired +another, and prosecuted my Journey; and when I came back, I return'd my +hired Horse, and finding my own in very good Case, and thoroughly +rested, I mounted his Back, and rid back to the Horse-Courser, desiring +him to set him up for a few Days, till I called for him again. He ask'd +me how well he carry'd me; I swore by all that was good, that I never +bestrid a better Nag in my Life, that he flew rather than walk'd, nor +ever tir'd the least in the World in all so long a Journey, nor was a +Hair the leaner for it. I having made him believe that these Things were +true, he thought with himself, he had been mistaken in this Horse; and +therefore, before I went away, he ask'd me if I would sell the Horse. I +refus'd at first; because if I should have Occasion to go such another +Journey, I should not easily get the Fellow of him; but however, I +valued nothing so much, but I would sell it, if I could have a good +Price for it, altho' any Body had a Mind to buy myself. + +_Aul._ This was fighting a Man with his own Weapons. + +_Ph._ In short, he would not let me go away, before I had set a Price +upon him. I rated him at a great Deal more than he cost me. Being gone, +I got an Acquaintance to act for me, and gave him Instructions how to +behave himself: He goes to the House, and calls for the Horse-Courser, +telling him, that he had Occasion for a very good, and a very hardy Nag. +The Horse-Courser shews him a great many Horses, still commending the +worst most of all; but says not a Word of that Horse he had sold me, +verily believing he was such as I had represented him. My Friend +presently ask'd whether that was not to be sold; for I had given him a +Description of the Horse, and the Place where he stood. The +Horse-Courser at first made no Answer, but commended the rest very +highly. The Gentleman lik'd the other Horses pretty well; but always +treated about that very Horse: At last thinks the Horse-Courser with +himself, I have certainly been out in my Judgment as to this Horse, if +this Stranger could presently pick this Horse out of so many. He +insisting upon it, He may be sold, says he; but it may be, you'll be +frighted at the Price. The Price, says he, is a Case of no great +Importance, if the Goodness of the Thing be answerable: Tell me the +Price. He told him something more than I had set him at to him, getting +the Overplus to himself. At last the Price was agreed on, and a good +large Earnest was given, a Ducat of Gold to bind the Bargain. The +Purchaser gives the Hostler a Groat, orders him to give his Horse some +Corn, and he would come by and by, and fetch him. As soon as ever I +heard the Bargain was made so firmly, that it could not be undone again, +I go immediately, booted and spurr'd to the Horse-Courser, and being out +of Breath, calls for my Horse. He comes and asks what I wanted: Says I, +get my Horse ready presently, for I must be gone this Moment, upon an +extraordinary Affair: But, says he, you bid me keep the Horse a few +Days: That's true, said I, but this Business has happened unexpectedly, +and it is the King's Business, and it will admit of no Delay. Says he, +take your Choice, which you will of all my Horses; you cannot have your +own. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretended +to be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey has +happen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times his +Price. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grew +a little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: You +set a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you your +Money, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, and +you can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a good +While, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that bought +him: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought him +for fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valued +him at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make that +Profit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd in +my Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desires +me not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So I +bit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that he +that had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; but +no Body came, nor ever will come. + +_Aul._ But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter with +you? + +_Ph._ With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him over +and over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But I +often reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be so +serv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. This +was a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in my +Heart to confess it as a Fault. + +_Aul._ If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far from +confessing it as a Fault, that I should have requir'd a Statue for it. + +_Ph._ I can't tell whether you speak as you think or no; but you set me +agog however, to be paying more of these Fellows in their own Coin. + + + + +_The BEGGARS DIALOGUE._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The Beggars Dialogue paints out the cheating, crafty + Tricks of Beggars, who make a Shew of being full of + Sores, and make a Profession of Palmistry, and other Arts + by which they impose upon many Persons. Nothing is more + like Kingship, than the Life of a Beggar._ + + +IRIDES, MISOPONUS. + +_Ir._ What new Sort of Bird is this I see flying here? I know the Face, +but the Cloaths don't suit it. If I'm not quite mistaken, this is +_Misoponus_. I'll venture to speak to him, as ragged as I am. God save +you, _Misoponus_. + +_Mis._ Hold your Tongue, I say. + +_Ir._ What's the Matter, mayn't a Body salute you? + +_Mis._ Not by that Name. + +_Ir._ Why, what has happen'd to you? Are you not the same Man that you +was? What, have you changed your Name with your Cloaths? + +_Mis._ No, but I have taken up my old Name again. + +_Ir._ Who was you then? + +_Mis._ _Apitius_. + +_Ir._ Never be asham'd of your old Acquaintance, if any Thing of a +better Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd to +our Order. + +_Mis._ Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am not +asham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first of +myself. + +_Ir._ What Order do you mean? That of the _Franciscans_? + +_Mis._ No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of the +Spendthrifts. + +_Ir._ In Truth, you have a great many Companions of that Order. + +_Mis._ I had a good Fortune, I spent lavishly, and when I began to be in +Want, no Body knew _Apitius_. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself to +your College: I lik'd that better than digging. + +_Ir._ Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case of +late? For as to your Change of Cloaths, I don't so much wonder at that. + +_Mis._ Why so? + +_Ir._ Because the Goddess _Laverna_ makes many rich on a sudden. + +_Mis._ What! do you think I got an Estate by Thieving then? + +_Ir._ Nay, perhaps more idly, by Rapine. + +_Mis._ No, I swear by your Goddess _Penia_, neither by Thieving, nor by +Rapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, which +seems to you to be the most admirable. + +_Ir._ For when you were with us, you were all over full of Sores. + +_Mis._ But I have since made Use of a very friendly Physician. + +_Ir._ Who? + +_Mis._ No other Person but myself, unless you think any Body is more +friendly to me, than I am to myself. + +_Ir._ But I never knew you understood Physick before. + +_Mis._ Why all that Dress was nothing but a Cheat I had daub'd on with +Paints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd in +Blood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again. + +_Ir._ O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. You +might have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy. + +_Mis._ My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt to +change the Skin too. + +_Ir._ Well then, tell me of your Fortune. Have you found a Treasure? + +_Mis._ No; but I have found out a Way of getting Money that's a little +better than yours. + +_Ir._ What could you get Money out of, that had no Stock? + +_Mis._ _An Artist will live any where._ + +_Ir._ I understand you now, you mean the Art of picking Pockets. + +_Mis._ Not so hard upon me, I pray; I mean the Art of Chymistry. + +_Ir._ Why 'tis scarce above a Fortnight, since you went away from us, +and have you in that Time learn'd an Art, that others can hardly learn +in many Years? + +_Mis._ But I have got a shorter Way. + +_Ir._ Prithee, what Way? + +_Mis._ When I had gotten almost four Guineas by your Art, I happened, as +good Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion of +mine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I had +done. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, to +tell of his Adventures. I made a Bargain with him to pay his Reckoning, +upon Condition that he should faithfully teach me his Art. He taught it +me very honestly, and now 'tis my Livelihood. + +_Ir._ Mayn't a Body learn it? + +_Mis._ I'll teach it you for nothing, for old Acquaintance Sake. You +know, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of this +Art. + +_Ir._ I have heard so, and I believe it is true. + +_Mis._ I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into their +Acquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungry +Sea-Cob, I throw him out a Bait. + +_Ir._ How do you do that? + +_Mis._ I caution him by all Means, not rashly to trust Men of that +Profession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their _hocus +pocus_ Tricks, pick the Pockets of those that are not cautious. + +_Ir._ That Prologue is not fit for your Business. + +_Mis._ Nay, I add this further, that I would not have them believe me +myself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and felt +it with their Hands. + +_Ir._ You speak of a wonderful Confidence you have in your Art. + +_Mis._ I bid them be present all the While the Metamorphosis is under +the Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may have +the less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their own +Hands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Finger +to it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it to +the Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Gold +it will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Mass +to several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find the +exact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold or +Silver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment in +Silver is the less chargeable to me. + +_Ir._ But has your Art no Cheat in it? + +_Mis._ It is a mere Cheat all over. + +_Ir._ I can't see where the Cheat lies. + +_Mis._ I'll make you see it presently. I first make a Bargain for my +Reward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thing +itself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business was +effected by the Virtue of that; but I never tell them how to make it, +except they purchase it at a very great Price. And I make them take an +Oath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Body +living. + +_Ir._ But I han't heard the Cheat yet. + +_Mis._ The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for this +Purpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to the +Quantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powder +is put in, I set the Pot in such a Manner, that it is cover'd all over, +above, beneath, and Sides, with Coals, and I persuade them, that the Art +consists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in one +that has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of the +Fire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin or +Brass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out. + +_Ir._ A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another does +it all with his own Hands? + +_Mis._ When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, before +the Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing has +been omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two at +the Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privately +lay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which I +can take, and no Body know any Thing of the Matter. + +_Ir._ But when they try to do this without you, and it does not succeed, +what Excuse have you to make? + +_Mis._ I'm safe enough when I have got my Money. I pretend one Thing or +other, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or the +Fire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mystery +of my Profession is, never to stay long in the same Place. + +_Ir._ And is there so much Profit in this Art as to maintain you? + +_Mis._ Yes, and nobly too: And I would have you, for the future, if you +are wise, leave off that wretched Trade of Begging, and follow ours. + +_Ir._ Nay, I should rather chuse to bring you back to our Trade. + +_Mis._ What, that I should voluntarily return again to that I have +escap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable? + +_Ir._ This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it grows +pleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen off +from the Order of St. _Francis_ or St. _Benedict_, did you ever know +any that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce taste +the Sweetness of Beggary in so few Months as you follow'd it. + +_Mis._ That little Taste I had of it taught me, that it was the most +wretched Life in Nature. + +_Ir._ Why does no Body quit it then? + +_Mis._ Perhaps, because they are naturally wretched. + +_Ir._ I would not change this Wretchedness, for the Fortune of a King. +For there is nothing more like a King, than the Life of a Beggar. + +_Mis._ What strange Story do I hear? Is nothing more like Snow than a +Coal? + +_Ir._ Wherein consists the greatest Happiness of Kings? + +_Mis._ Because in that they can do what they please. + +_Ir._ As for that Liberty, than which nothing is sweeter, we have more +of it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are many +Kings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, we +are not press'd for Soldiers, nor put upon Parish-Offices, nor taxed. +When the People are loaded with Taxes, there's no Scrutiny into our Way +of Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue a +Beggar? If we beat a Man, he will be asham'd to fight with a Beggar? +Kings can't live at Ease neither in War or in Peace, and the greater +they are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid to +offend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated to +God. + +_Mis._ But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels? + +_Ir._ What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak of +are out of a Man. We owe our Happiness to these Rags. + +_Mis._ But I am afraid a good Part of your Happiness will fail you in a +short Time. + +_Ir._ How so? + +_Mis._ Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be a +Law, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at their +Pleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they that +are able shall be made to work. + +_Ir._ What Reason have they for this? + +_Mis._ Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence of +Begging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publick +from your Order. + +_Ir._ Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bring +it about when the Devil's blind. + +_Mis._ Perhaps sooner than you'd have it. + + + + +_The FABULOUS FEAST._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _The fabulous Feast contains various Stories and pleasant + Tales._ Maccus _puts a Trick upon a Shoe-maker. A + Fruiterer is put upon about her Figs. A very clever Cheat + of a Priest, in relation to Money._ Lewis _the Eleventh, + King of_ France, _eats some of a Country-Man's Turnips, + and gives him 1000 Crowns for an extraordinary large one + that he made a Present of to him. A certain Man takes a + Louse off of the King's Garment, and the King gives him + 40 Crowns for it. The Courtiers are trick'd. One asks for + an Office, or some publick Employment. To deny a Kindness + presently, is to bestow a Benefit._ Maximilian _was very + merciful to his Debtors. An old Priest Cheats an Usurer._ + Anthony _salutes one upon letting a Fart, saying the + Backside was the cleanest Part of the Body._ + + + POLYMYTHUS, GELASINUS, EUTRAPELUS, ASTAEUS, PHILYTHLUS, + PHILOGELOS, EUGLOTTUS, LEROCHARES, ADOLESCHES, LEVINUS. + +_Pol._ As it is unfitting for a well order'd City to be without Laws and +without a Governor; so neither ought a Feast to be without Orders and a +President. + +_Ge._ If I may speak for the rest, I like it very well. + +_Po._ Soho, Sirrah! bring hither the Dice, the Matter shall be +determin'd by their Votes; he shall be our President that _Jupiter_ +shall favour. O brave! _Eutrapelus_ has it, the fittest Man that could +be chosen, if we had every individual Man of us thrown. There is an +usual Proverb, that has more Truth in't than good Latin, _Novus Rex nova +Lex, New Lords new Laws_. Therefore, King, make thou Laws. + +_Eut._ That this may be a merry and happy Banquet, in the first Place I +command, that no Man tell a Story but what is a ridiculous one. He that +shall have no Story to tell, shall pay a Groat, to be spent in Wine; and +Stories invented extempore shall be allow'd as legitimate, provided +Regard be had to Probability and Decency. If no Body shall want a Story, +let those two that tell, the one the pleasantest, and the other the +dullest, pay for Wine. Let the Master of the Feast be at no Charge for +Wine, but only for the Provisions of the Feast. If any Difference about +this Matter shall happen, let _Gelasinus_ be Judge. If you agree to +these Conditions, let 'em be ratified. He that won't observe the Orders, +let him be gone, but with Liberty to come again to a Collation the next +Day. + +_Ge._ We give our Votes for the Passing the Bill our King has brought +in. But who must tell the first Story? + +_Eut._ Who should, but the Master of the Feast? + +_As._ But, Mr. King, may I have the liberty to speak three Words? + +_Eut._ What, do you take the Feast to be an unlucky one? + +_As._ The Lawyers deny that to be Law that is not just. + +_Eut._ I grant it. + +_As._ Your Law makes the best and worst Stories equal. + +_Eut._ Where Diversion is the Thing aim'd at, there he deserves as much +Commendation who tells the worst, as he that tells the best Story, +because it affords as much Merriment; as amongst Songsters none are +admir'd but they that sing very well, or they that sing very ill. Do not +more laugh to hear the Cuckoo than to hear the Nightingal? In this Case +Mediocrity is not Praise-worthy. + +_As._ But pray, why must they be punish'd, that carry off the Prize? + +_Eut._ Lest their too great Felicity should expose them to Envy, if they +should carry away the Prize, and go Shot-free too. + +_As._ By _Bacchus, Minos_ himself never made a juster Law. + +_Phily._ Do you make no Order as to the Method of Drinking? + +_Eut._ Having consider'd the Matter, I will follow the Example of +_Agesilaus_ King of the _Lacedaemonians_. + +_Phily._ What did he do? + +_Eut._ Upon a certain Time, he being by Lot chosen Master of the Feast, +when the Marshal of the Hall ask'd him, how much Wine he should set +before every Man; If, says he, you have a great Deal of Wine, let every +Man have as much as he calls for, but if you're scarce of Wine, give +every Man equally alike. + +_Phily._ What did the _Lacedaemonian_ mean by that? + +_Eut._ He did this, that it might neither be a drunken Feast, nor a +querulous one. + +_Phily._ Why so? + +_Eut._ Because some like to drink plentifully, and some sparingly, and +some drink no Wine at all; such an one _Romulus_ is said to have been. +For if no Body has any Wine but what he asks for, in the first Place no +Body is compell'd to drink, and there is no Want to them that love to +drink more plentifully. And so it comes to pass that no Body is +melancholy at the Table. And again, if of a less quantity of Wine every +one has an equal Portion, they that drink moderately have enough; nor +can any Body complain in an Equality, and they that would have drank +more largely, are contentedly temperate. + +_Eut._ If you like it, this is the Example I would imitate, for I would +have this Feast to be a fabulous, but not a drunken one. + +_Phily._ But what did _Romulus_ drink then? + +_Eut._ The same that Dogs drink. + +_Phily._ Was not that unbeseeming a King? + +_Eut._ No more than it is unseemly for a King to draw the same Air that +Dogs do, unless there is this Difference, that a King does not drink the +very same Water that a Dog drank, but a Dog draws in the very same Air +that the King breath'd out; and on the contrary, the King draws in the +very same Air that the Dog breath'd out. It would have been much more to +_Alexander_'s, Glory, if he had drank with the Dogs. For there is +nothing worse for a King, who has the Care of so many thousand Persons, +than Drunkenness. But the Apothegm that _Romulus_ very wittily made Use +of, shews plainly that he was no Wine-Drinker. For when a certain +Person, taking Notice of his abstaining from Wine, said to him, that +Wine would be very cheap, if all Men drank as he did; nay, says he, in +my Opinion it would be very dear, if all Men drank it as I drink; for I +drink as much as I please. + +_Ge._ I wish our _John Botzemus_, the Canon of _Constance_, was here; +he'd look like another _Romulus_ to us: For he is as abstemious, as he +is reported to have been; but nevertheless, he is a good-humoured, +facetious Companion. + +_Po._ But come on, if you can, I won't say _drink and blow_, which +_Plautus_ says is a hard Matter to do, but if you can eat and hear at +one and the same Time, which is a very easy Matter, I'll begin the +Exercise of telling Stories, and auspiciously. If the Story be not a +pleasant one, remember 'tis a _Dutch_ one. I suppose some of you have +heard of the Name of _Maccus_? + +_Ge._ Yes, he has not been dead long. + +_Po._ He coming once to the City of _Leiden_, and being a Stranger +there, had a Mind to make himself taken Notice of for an arch Trick (for +that was his Humour); he goes into a Shoemaker's Shop, and salutes him. +The Shoemaker, desirous to sell his Ware, asks him what he would buy: +_Maccus_ setting his Eyes upon a Pair of Boots that hung up there, the +Shoemaker ask'd him if he'd buy any Boots; _Maccus_ assenting to it, he +looks out a Pair that would fit him, and when he had found 'em brings +'em out very readily, and, as the usual Way is, draws 'em on. _Maccus_ +being very well fitted with a Pair of Boots, How well, says he, would a +Pair of double soal'd Shoes agree with these Boots? The Shoemaker asks +him, if he would have a Pair of Shoes too. He assents, a Pair is look'd +out presently and put on. _Maccus_ commends the Boots, commends the +Shoes. The Shoemaker glad in his Mind to hear him talk so, seconds him +as he commended 'em, hoping to get a better Price, since the Customer +lik'd his Goods so well. And by this Time they were grown a little +familiar; then says _Maccus_, Tell me upon your Word, whether it never +was your Hap, when you had fitted a Man with Boots and Shoes, as you +have me, to have him go away without paying for 'em? No, never in all my +Life, says he. But, says _Maccus_, if such a Thing should happen to you, +what would you do in the Case? Why, quoth the Shoemaker, I'd run after +him. Then says _Maccus_, but are you in Jest or in Earnest? In Earnest, +says the other, and I'd do it in Earnest too. Says _Maccus_, I'll try +whether you will or no. See I run for the Shoes, and you're to follow +me, and out he runs in a Minute; the Shoemaker follows him immediately +as fast as ever he could run, crying out, Stop Thief, stop Thief; this +Noise brings the People out of their Houses: _Maccus_ laughing, hinders +them from laying Hold of him by this Device, Don't stop me, says he, we +are running a Race for a Wager of a Pot of Ale; and so they all stood +still and look'd on, thinking the Shoemaker had craftily made that +Out-cry that he might have the Opportunity to get before him. At last +the Shoemaker, being tir'd with running, gives out, and goes sweating, +puffing and blowing Home again: So _Maccus_ got the Prize. + +_Ge._ _Maccus_ indeed escap'd the Shoemaker, but did not escape the +Thief. + +_Po._ Why so? + +_Ge._ Because he carried the Thief along with him. + +_Po._ Perhaps he might not have Money at that Time, but paid for 'em +afterwards. + +_Ge._ He might have indicted him for a Robbery. + +_Po._ That was attempted afterwards, but now the Magistrates knew +_Maccus_. + +_Ge._ What did _Maccus_ say for himself? + +_Po._ Do you ask what he said for himself, in so good a Cause as this? +The Plaintiff was in more Danger than the Defendant. + +_Ge._ How so? + +_Po._ Because he arrested him in an Action of Defamation, and prosecuted +him upon the Statute of _Rheims_ which says, that he that charges a Man +with what he can't prove, shall suffer the Penalty, which the Defendant +was to suffer if he had been convicted. He deny'd that he had meddled +with another Man's Goods without his Leave, but that he put 'em upon +him, and that there was no Mention made of any Thing of a Price; but +that he challeng'd the Shoemaker to run for a Wager, and that he +accepted the Challenge, and that he had no Reason to complain because he +had out-run him. + +_Ge._ This Action was pretty much like that of the Shadow of the Ass. +Well, but what then? + +_Po._ When they had had laughing enough at the Matter, one of the Judges +invites _Maccus_ to Supper, and paid the Shoemaker his Money. Just such +another Thing happen'd at _Daventerv_, when I was a Boy. It was at a +Time when 'tis the Fishmonger's Fair, and the Butchers Time to be +starv'd. A certain Man stood at a Fruiterer's Stall, or Oporopolist's, +if you'd have it in _Greek_. The Woman was a very fat Woman, and he +star'd very hard upon the Ware she had to sell. She, according as the +Custom is, invites him to have what he had a Mind to; and perceiving he +set his Eyes upon some Figs, Would you please to have Figs, says she? +they are very fine ones. He gives her a Nod. She asks him how many +Pound, Would you have five Pound says she? He nods again; she turns him +five Pound into his Apron. While she is laying by her Scales, he walks +off, not in any great haste, but very gravely. When she comes out to +take her Money, her Chap was gone; she follows him, making more Noise +than Haste after him. He, taking no Notice, goes on; at last a great +many getting together at the Woman's Out-cry, he stands still, pleads +his Cause in the midst of the Multitude: there was very good Sport, he +denies that he bought any Figs of her, but that she gave 'em him freely; +if she had a Mind to have a Trial for it, he would put in an Appearance. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll tell you a Story not much unlike yours, nor perhaps not +much inferior to it, saving it has not so celebrated an Author as +_Maccus_. _Pythagoras_ divided the Market into three Sorts of Persons, +those that went thither to sell, those that went thither to buy; both +these Sorts were a careful Sort of People, and therefore unhappy: others +came to see what was there to be sold, and what was done; these only +were the happy People, because being free from Care, they took their +Pleasure freely. And this he said was the Manner that a Philosopher +convers'd in this World, as they do in a Market. But there is a fourth +Kind of Persons that walk about in our Markets, who neither buy nor +sell, nor are idle Spectators of what others do, but lie upon the Catch +to steal what they can. And of this last Sort there are some that are +wonderful dextrous. You would swear they were born under a lucky Planet. +Our Entertainer gave us a Tale with an Epilogue, I'll give you one with +a Prologue to it. Now you shall hear what happen'd lately at _Antwerp_. +An old Priest had receiv'd there a pretty handsome Sum of Money, but it +was in Silver. A Sharper has his Eye upon him; he goes to the Priest, +who had put his Money in a large Bag in his Cassock, where it boug'd +out; he salutes him very civilly, and tells him that he had Orders to +buy a Surplice, which is the chief Vestment us'd in performing Divine +Service, for the Priest of his Parish; he intreats him to lend him a +little Assistance in this Matter, and to go with him to those that sell +such Attire, that he might fit one according to his Size, because he was +much about the same Stature with the Parson of his Parish. This being +but a small Kindness, the old Priest promises to do it very readily. +They go to a certain Shop, a Surplice is shew'd 'em, the old Priest +puts it on, the Seller says, it fits him as exactly as if made for him; +the Sharper viewing the old Priest before and behind, likes the Surplice +very well, but only found Fault that it was too short before. The +Seller, lest he should lose his Customer, says, that was not the Fault +of the Surplice, but that the Bag of Money that stuck out, made it look +shorter there. To be short, the old Priest lays his Bag down; then they +view it over again, and while the old Priest stands with his Back +towards it, the Sharper catches it up, and runs away as fast as he +could: The Priest runs after him in the Surplice as he was, and the +Shop-Keeper after the Priest; the old Priest cries out, Stop Thief; the +Salesman cries out, Stop the Priest; the Sharper cries out, Stop the mad +Priest; and they took him to be mad, when they saw him run in the open +Street in such a Dress: so one hindring the other, the Sharper gets +clear off. + +_Eut._ Hanging is too good for such a Rogue. + +_Ge._ It is so, if he be not hang'd already. + +_Eut._ I would not have him hang'd only, but all those that encourage +such monstrous Rogues to the Damage of the State. + +_Ge._ They don't encourage 'em for nothing; there's a fellow Feeling +between 'em from the lowest to the highest. + +_Eut._ Well, but let us return to our Stories again. + +_Ast._ It comes to your Turn now, if it be meet to oblige a King to keep +his Turn. + +_Eut._ I won't need to be forc'd to keep my Turn, I'll keep it +voluntarily; I should be a Tyrant and not a King, if I refus'd to comply +with those Laws I prescribe to others. + +_Ast._ But some Folks say, that a Prince is above the Law. + +_Eut._ That saying is not altogether false, if by Prince you mean that +great Prince who was call'd _Caesar_; and then, if by being above the +Law, you mean, that whereas others do in some Measure keep the Laws by +Constraint, he of his own Inclination more exactly observes them. For a +good Prince is that to the Body Politick, which the Mind is to the Body +Natural. What Need was there to have said a good Prince, when a bad +Prince is no Prince? As an unclean Spirit that possesses the human Body, +is not the Soul of that Body. But to return to my Story; and I think +that as I am King, it becomes me to tell a kingly Story. _Lewis_ King of +_France_ the Eleventh of that Name, when his Affairs were disturb'd at +Home, took a Journey to _Burgundy_; and there upon the Occasion of a +Hunting, contracted a Familiarity with one _Conon_, a Country Farmer, +but a plain downright honest Man; and Kings delight in the Conversation +of such Men. The King, when he went a hunting, us'd often to go to his +House; and as great Princes do sometimes delight themselves with mean +Matters, he us'd to be mightily pleas'd in eating of his Turnips. Not +long after, _Lewis_ having settled his Affairs, obtain'd the Government +of the _French_ Nation; _Conon_'s Wife puts him upon remembring the King +of his old Entertainment at their House, bids him go to him, and make +him a Present of some rare Turnips. _Conon_ at first would not hear of +it, saying he should lose his Labour, for that Princes took no Notice of +such small Matters; but his Wife over-persuaded him. _Conon_ picks out a +Parcel of choice Turnips, and gets ready for his Journey; but growing +hungry by the Way, eats 'em all up but one very large one. When _Conon_ +had got Admission into the Hall that the King was to pass thro', the +King knew him presently, and sent for him; and he with a great Deal of +Chearfulness offers his Present, and the King with as much Readiness of +Mind receives it, commanding one that stood near him to lay it up very +carefully among his greatest Rarities. He commands _Conon_ to dine with +him, and after Dinner thanks him; and _Conon_ being desirous to go back +into his own Country, the King orders him 1000 Crowns for his Turnip. +When the Report of this Thing, as it is common, was spread abroad thro' +the King's Houshold-Servants, one of the Courtiers presents the King +with a very fine Horse; the King knowing that it was his Liberality to +_Conon_ that had put him upon this, he hoping to make a great Advantage +by it, he accepted it with a great Deal of Pleasure, and calling a +Council of his Nobles, began to debate, with what Present he should make +a Recompence for so fine and valuable a Horse. In the mean Time the +Giver of the Horse began to be flushed with Expectation, thinking thus +with himself; If he made such a Recompence for a poor Turnip offer'd him +by a Country Farmer, how much more magnificently will he requite the +Present of so fine a Horse by a Courtier? When one answer'd one Thing, +and another another to the King that was consulting about it, as a +Matter of great Moment, and the designing Courtier had been for a long +Time kept in Fools Paradise; At Length, says the King, it's just now +come into my Mind what Return to make him, and calling one of his +Noblemen to him, whispers him in the Ear, bids him go fetch him what he +found in his Bedchamber (telling him the Place where it lay) choicely +wrap'd up in Silk; the Turnip is brought, and the King with his own Hand +gives it the Courtier, wrap'd up as it was, saying that he thought he +had richly requited the Present of the Horse by so choice a Rarity, as +had cost him 1000 Crowns. The Courtier going away, and taking off the +Covering, did not find a _Coal instead of a Treasure_, according to the +old Proverb, but a dry Turnip: and so the Biter was bitten, and soundly +laugh'd at by every Body into the Bargain. + +_As._ But, Mr. King, if you'll please to permit me, who am but a +Peasant, to speak of regal Matters, I'll tell you something that comes +into my Mind, by hearing your Story, concerning the same _Lewis_. For as +one Link of a Chain draws on another, so one Story draws on another. A +certain Servant seeing a Louse crawling upon the King's Coat, falling +upon his Knees and lifting up his Hand, gives Notice, that he had a Mind +to do some Sort of Service; _Lewis_ offering himself to him, he takes +off the Louse, and threw it away privately; the King asks him what it +was; he seem'd ashamed to tell him, but the King urging him, he +confess'd it was a Louse: That's a very good Sign, says he, for it shews +me to be a Man, because this Sort of Vermin particularly haunts Mankind, +especially while they are young; and order'd him a Present of 40 Crowns +for his good Service. Some Time after, another Person (who had seen how +well he came off that had perform'd so small a Service) not considering +that there is a great Difference between doing a Thing sincerely, and +doing it craftily, approached the King with the like Gesture; and he +offering himself to him, he made a Shew of taking something off his +Garment, which he presently threw away. But when the King was urgent +upon him, seeming unwilling to tell what it was, mimicking Abundance of +Modesty, he at last told him it was a Flea; the King perceiving the +Fraud, says to him, What do you make a Dog of me? and orders him to be +taken away, and instead of 40 Crowns orders him 40 Stripes. + +_Phily._ I hear it's no good jesting with Kings; for as Lions will +sometimes stand still to be stroaked, are Lions again when they please, +and kill their Play-Fellow; just so Princes play with Men. But I'll tell +you a Story not much unlike yours: not to go off from _Lewis_, who us'd +to take a Pleasure in tricking Tricksters. He had receiv'd a Present of +ten thousand Crowns from some Place, and as often as the Courtiers know +the King has gotten any fresh Money, all the Officers are presently upon +the Hunt to catch some Part of it; this _Lewis_ knew very well, this +Money being pour'd out upon a Table, he, to raise all their +Expectations, thus bespeaks them; What say you, am not I a very rich +King? Where shall I bestow all this Money? It was presented to me, and I +think it is meet I should make Presents of it again. Where are all my +Friends, to whom I am indebted for their good Services? Now let 'em come +before this Money's gone. At that Word a great many came running; every +Body hop'd to get some of it. The King taking Notice of one that look'd +very wishfully upon it, and as if he would devour it with his Eyes, +turning to him, says, Well, Friend, what have you to say? He inform'd +the King, that he had for a long Time very faithfully kept the King's +Hawks, and been at a great Expence thereby. One told him one Thing, +another another, every one setting out his Service to the best +Advantage, and ever and anon lying into the Bargain. The King heard 'em +all very patiently, and approv'd of what they said. This Consultation +held a long Time, that he might teaze them the more, by keeping them +betwixt Hope and Despair. Among the rest stood the Great Chancellor, for +the King had order'd him to be sent for too; he, being wiser than the +rest, says never a Word of his own good Services, but was only a +Spectator of the Comedy. At Length the King turning toward him, says, +Well, what says my Chancellor to the Matter? He is the only Man that +asks nothing, and says never a Word of his good Services. I, says the +Chancellor, have receiv'd more already from your royal Bounty, than I +have deserved. I am so far from craving more, that I am not desirous of +any Thing so much, as to behave myself worthy of the royal Bounty I have +receiv'd. Then, says the King, you are the only Man of 'em all that does +not want Money. Says the Chancellor, I must thank your Bounty that I +don't. Then he turns to the others, and says, I am the most magnificent +Prince in the World, that have such a wealthy Chancellor. This more +inflam'd all their Expectations, that the Money would be distributed +among them, since he desired none of it. When the King had play'd upon +'em after this Manner a pretty While, he made the Chancellor take it all +up, and carry it Home; then turning to the rest, who now look'd a little +dull upon it, says he, You must stay till the next Opportunity. + +_Philog._ Perhaps that I'm going to tell you, will not seem so +entertaining. However, I entreat you that you would not be suspicious, +that I use any Deceit or Collusion, or think that I have a Design to +desire to be excus'd. One came to the same _Lewis_, with a Petition that +he would bestow upon him an Office that happen'd to be vacant in the +Town where he liv'd. The King hearing the Petition read, answers +immediately, you shall not have it; by that Means putting him out of any +future Expectation; the Petitioner immediately returns the King Thanks, +and goes his Way. The King observing the Man's Countenance, perceiv'd he +was no Blockhead, and thinking perhaps he might have misunderstood what +he said, bids him be call'd back again. He came back; then says the +King; Did you understand what I said to you? I did understand you, quoth +he: Why, what did I say? That I should not have it, said he. What did +you thank me for then? Why, says he, I have some Business to do at Home, +and therefore it would have been a Trouble to me to have here danc'd +Attendance after a doubtful Hope; now, I look upon it a Benefit that you +have denied me the Office quickly, and so I count myself to have gain'd +whatsoever I should have lost by Attendance upon it, and gone without it +at last. By this Answer, the King seeing the Man to be no Blockhead, +having ask'd him a few Questions, says he, You shall have what you ask'd +for, that you may thank me twice, and turning to his Officers; Let, says +he, Letters patent be made out for this Man without Delay, that he may +not be detain'd here to his Detriment. + +_Eugl._ I could tell you a Story of _Lewis_, but I had rather tell one +of our _Maximilian_, who as he was far from hiding his Money in the +Ground, so he was very generous to those that had spent their Estates, +if they were nobly descended. He being minded to assist a young +Gentleman, that had fallen under these Circumstances, sent him on an +Embassy to demand an hundred thousand Florins of a certain City, but I +know not upon what Account. But this was the Condition of it, that if he +by his Dexterity could make any more of it, it should be his own. The +Embassador extorted fifty thousand from 'em, and gave _Caesar_ thirty of +'em. _Caesar_ being glad to receive more than he expected, dismisses the +Man without asking any Questions. In the mean Time the Treasurer and +Receivers smelt the Matter, that he had receiv'd more than he had paid +in; they importune _Caesar_ to send for him; he being sent for, comes +immediately: Says _Maximilian_, I hear you have receiv'd fifty thousand. +He confess'd it. But you have paid in but thirty thousand. He confess'd +that too. Says he, You must give an Account of it. He promis'd he would +do it, and went away. But again he doing nothing in it, the Officers +pressing the Matter, he was call'd again; then says _Caesar_ to him, A +little While ago, you were order'd to make up the Account. Says he, I +remember it, and am ready to do it. _Caesar_, imagining that he had not +settled it, let him go again; but he thus eluding the Matter, the +Officers insisted more pressingly upon it, crying out, it was a great +Affront to play upon _Caesar_ at this Rate. They persuaded the King to +send for him, and make him balance the Account before them. _Caesar_ +agrees to it, he is sent for, comes immediately, and does not refuse to +do any Thing. Then says _Caesar_, Did not you promise to balance the +Account? Yes, said he. Well, says he, you must do it here; here are some +to take your Account; it must be put off no longer. The Officers sat by, +with Books ready for the Purpose. The young Man being come to this +Pinch, replies very smartly; Most invincible _Caesar_, I don't refuse to +give an Account, but am not very well skilled in these Sort of Accounts, +never having given any; but these that sit here are very ready at such +Accounts. If I do but once see how they make up such Accounts, I can +very easily imitate them. I entreat you to command them but to shew me +an Example, and they shall see I am very docible. _Caesar_ perceived +what he meant, but they, upon whom it was spoken did not, and smiling, +answered him, you say true, and what you demand is nothing but what is +reasonable: And so dismissed the young Man. For he intimated that they +used to bring in such Accounts to _Caesar_ as he had, that is, to keep a +good Part of the Money to themselves. + +_Le._ Now 'tis Time that our Story-telling should pass, as they say, +from better to worse, from Kings to _Anthony_, a Priest of _Louvain_, +who was much in Favour with _Philip_ surnamed _the Good_: there are a +great many Things told of this Man, both merrily said, and wittily done, +but most of them are something slovenly. For he used to season many of +his Jokes with a Sort of Perfume that has not a handsome Sound, but a +worse Scent. I'll pick out one of the cleanest of 'em. He had given an +Invitation to one or two merry Fellows that he had met with by Chance as +he went along; and when he comes Home, he finds a cold Kitchen; nor had +he any Money in his Pocket, which was no new Thing with him; here was +but little Time for Consultation. Away he goes, and says nothing, but +going into the Kitchen of a certain Usurer (that was an intimate +Acquaintance, by Reason of frequent Dealings with him) when the Maid was +gone out of the Way, he makes off with one of the Brass Pots, with the +Meat ready boiled, under his Coat, carries it Home, gives it his +Cook-Maid, and bids her pour out the Meat and Broth into another Earthen +Pot, and rub the Usurer's Brass one till it was bright. Having done +this, he sends his Boy to the Pawn-Broker to borrow two Groats upon it, +but charges him to take a Note, that should be a Testimonial, that such +a Pot had been sent him. The Pawn-Broker not knowing the Pot being +scour'd so bright, takes the Pawn, gives him a Note, and lays him down +the Money, and with that Money the Boy buys Wine, and so he provided an +Entertainment for him. By and by, when the Pawn-Broker's Dinner was +going to be taken up, the Pot was missing. He scolds at the Cook-Maid; +she being put hardly to it, affirmed no Body had been in the Kitchen all +that Day but _Anthony_. It seem'd an ill Thing to suspect a Priest. But +however at last they went to him, search'd the House for the Pot, but no +Pot was found. But in short, they charg'd him Home with the Pot, because +he was the only Person who had been in the Kitchen till the Pot was +missing. He confess'd that he had borrow'd a Pot, but that he had sent +it Home again to him from whom he had it. But they denying it stiffly, +and high Words arising, _Anthony_ calling some Witnesses, Look you, +quoth he, how dangerous a Thing it is to have to do with Men now-a-Days, +without a Note under their Hands: I should have been in Danger of being +indicted for Felony, if I had not had the Pawn-Broker's own Hand to +shew. And with that he produces the Note of his Hand. They perceiv'd the +Trick, and it made good Sport all the Country over, that the +Pawn-Broker had lent Money upon his own Porridge-Pot. Men are commonly +very well pleas'd with such Tricks, when they are put upon such as they +have no good Opinion of, especially such as use to impose upon other +Persons. + +_Adol._ In Truth, by mentioning the Name of _Anthony_, you have laid +open an Ocean of merry Stories; but I'll tell but one, and a short one +too, that was told me very lately. A certain Company of jolly Fellows, +who are for a short Life, and a merry one, as they call it, were making +merry together; among the rest there was one _Anthony_, and another +Person, a noted Fellow for an arch Trick, a second _Anthony_. And as +'tis the Custom of Philosophers, when they meet together to propound +some Questions or other about the Things of Nature, so in this Company a +Question was propos'd; Which was the most honourable Part of a Man? One +said the Eyes, another said the Heart, another said the Brain, and +others said other Parts; and every one alleg'd some Reason for his +Assertion. _Anthony_ was bid to speak his Mind, and he gave his Opinion +that the Mouth was the most honourable, and gave some Reason for't, I +can't tell what. Upon that the other Person, that he might thwart +_Anthony_, made Answer that that was the most honourable Part that we +sit upon; and when every one cry'd out, that was absurd, he back'd it +with this Reason, that he was commonly accounted the most honourable +that was first seated, and that this Honour was commonly done to the +Part that he spoke of. They applauded his Opinion, and laughed heartily +at it. The Man was mightily pleas'd with his Wit, and _Anthony_ seem'd +to have the worst on't. _Anthony_ turn'd the Matter off very well, +saying that he had given the prime Honour to the Mouth for no other +Reason, but because he knew that the other Man would name some other +Part, if it were but out of Envy to thwart him: A few Days after, when +they were both invited again to an Entertainment, _Anthony_ going in, +finds his Antagonist, talking with some other Persons, while Supper was +getting ready, and turning his Arse towards him, lets a great Fart full +in his Face. He being in a violent Passion, says to him, Out, you saucy +Fellow, where was you drag'd up? _At Hogs Norton_? Then says _Anthony_, +What, are you angry? If I had saluted you with my Mouth, you would have +answer'd me again; but now I salute you with the most honourable Part of +the Body, in your own Opinion, you call me saucy Fellow. And so +_Anthony_ regain'd the Reputation he had lost. We have every one told +our Tale. Now, Mr. Judge, it is your Business to pass Sentence. + +_Ge._ Well, I'll do that, but not before every Man has taken off his +Glass, and I'll lead the Way. But _talk of the Devil and he'll appear_. + +_Po._ _Levinus Panagathus_ brings no bad Luck along with him. + +_Lev._ Well, pray what Diversion has there been among this merry +Company? + +_Po._ What should we do but tell merry Stories till you come? + +_Lev._ Well then, I'm come to conclude the Meeting. I desire you all to +come to Morrow to eat a Theological Dinner with me. + +_Ge._ You tell us of a melancholy Entertainment indeed. + +_Lev._ That will appear. If you don't confess that it has been more +entertaining than your fabulous one, I'll be content to be amerc'd a +Supper; there is nothing more diverting than to treat of Trifles in a +serious Manner. + + + + +_The LYING-IN WOMAN._ + + +The ARGUMENT. + + _A Lying-in Woman had rather have a Boy than a Girl. + Custom is a grievous Tyrant. A Woman argues that she is + as good as her Husband. The Dignity of 'em both are + compared. The Tongue is a Woman's best Weapon. The Mother + herself ought to be the Nurse. She is not the Mother that + bears the Child, but she that nurses it. The very Beasts + themselves suckle their own Young. The Nurse's Milk + corrupts oftentimes both the Genius and natural + Constitution of the Infant. The Souls of some Persons + inhabit Bodies ill organized._ Cato _judges it the + principal Part of Felicity, to dwell happily. She is + scarce half a Mother that refuses to bring up what she + has brought forth. A Mother is so called from [Greek: me + terein]. And in short, besides the Knowledge of a great + many Things in Nature, here are many that occur in + Morality._ + + +EUTRAPELUS, FABULLA. + +_Eu._ Honest _Fabulla_, I am glad to see you; I wish you well. + +_Fa._ I wish you well heartily, Eutrapelus. But what's the Matter more +than ordinary, that you that come so seldom to see me, are come now? +None of our Family has seen you this three Years. + +_Eu._ I'll tell you, as I chanced to go by the Door, I saw the Knocker +(called a Crow) tied up in a white Cloth, I wondered what was the +Matter. + +_Fa._ What! are you such a Stranger in this Country, as not to know that +that's a Token of a lying-in Woman in that House? + +_Eu._ Why, pray is it not a strange Sight to see a white Crow? But +without jesting, I did know very well what was the Matter; but I could +not dream, that you that are scarce sixteen, should learn so early the +difficult Art of getting Children, which some can scarce attain before +they are thirty. + +_Fa._ As you are _Eutrapelus_ by Name, so you are by Nature. + +_Eu._ And so are you too. For _Fabulla_ never wants a Fable. And while I +was in a Quandary, _Polygamus_ came by just in the Nick of Time. + +_Fa._ What he that lately buried his tenth Wife? + +_Eu._ The very same, but I believe you don't know that he goes a +courting as hotly as if he had lived all his Days a Batchelor. I ask'd +him what was the Matter; he told me that in this House the Body of a +Woman had been dissever'd. For what great Crime, says I? says he, If +what is commonly reported be true, the Mistress of this House attempted +to circumcise her Husband, and with that he went away laughing. + +_Fa._ He's a mere Wag. + +_Eu._ I presently ran in a-Doors to congratulate your safe Delivery. + +_Fa._ Congratulate my safe Delivery if you will, _Eutrapelus_, you may +congratulate my happy Delivery, when you shall see him that I have +brought forth give a Proof of himself to be an honest Man. + +_Eu._ Indeed, my _Fabulla_ you talk very piously and rationally. + +_Fa._ Nay, I am no Body's _Fabulla_ but _Petronius's._ + +_Eu._ Indeed you bear Children for _Petronius_ alone, but you don't live +for him alone, I believe. But however, I congratulate you upon this, +that you have got a Boy. + +_Fa._ But why do you think it better to have a Boy than a Girl? + +_Eu._ Nay, but rather you _Petronius's Fabulla_ (for now I am afraid to +call you mine) ought to tell me what Reason you Women have to wish for +Boys rather than Girls? + +_Fa._ I don't know what other People's Minds are; at this Time I am glad +I have a Boy, because so it pleased God. If it had pleased him best I +should have had a Girl, it would have pleased me best too. + +_Eu._ Do you think God has nothing else to do but be a Midwife to Women +in Labour? + +_Fa._ Pray, _Eutrapelus_, what should he do else, but preserve by +Propagation, what he has founded by Creation? + +Eu, What should he do else good Dame? If he were not God, he'd never be +able to do what he has to do. _Christiernus_ King of _Denmark_, a +religious Favourer of the Gospel, is in Exile. _Francis_, King of +_France_, is a Sojourner in _Spain._ I can't tell how well he may bear +it, but I am sure he is a Man that deserves better Fortune. _Charles_ +labours with might and main to inlarge the Territories of his Monarchy. +And _Ferdinand_ is mightily taken up about his Affairs in _Germany._ And +the Courtiers every where are almost Famished with Hunger after Money. +The very Farmers raise dangerous Commotions, nor are deterred from their +Attempts by so many Slaughters of Men, that have been made already. The +People are for setting up an Anarchy, and the Church goes to Ruin with +dangerous Factions. Christ's seamless Coat is rent asunder on all Sides. +God's Vineyard is spoiled by more Boars than one. The Authority of the +Clergy with their Tythes, the Dignity of Divines, the Majesty of Monks +is in Danger: Confession nods, Vows stagger, the Pope's Constitutions go +to decay, the Eucharist is call'd in Question, and Antichrist is +expected every Day, and the whole World seems to be in Travail to bring +forth I know not what Mischief. In the mean Time the _Turks_ over-run +all where-e'er they come, and are ready to invade us and lay all waste, +if they succeed in what they are about; and do you ask what God has +else to do? I think he should rather see to secure his own Kingdom in +Time. + +_Fa._ Perhaps that which Men make the greatest Account of, seems to God +of no Moment. But however, if you will, let us let God alone in this +Discourse of ours. What is your Reason to think it is happier to bear a +Boy than a Girl? It is the Part of a pious Person to think that best +which God, who without Controversy is the best Judge, has given. + +_Eu._ And if God should give you but a Cup made of Crystal, would you +not give him Thanks for it? + +_Fa._ Yes, I would. + +_Eu._ But what if he should give you one of common Glass, would you give +him the like Thanks? But I'm afraid instead of comforting you, by this +Discourse, I should make you uneasy. + +_Fa._ Nay, a _Fabulla_ can be in no Danger of being hurt by a Fable. I +have lain in now almost a Month, and I am strong enough for a Match at +Wrestling. + +_Eu._ Why don't you get out of your Bed then? + +_Fa._ The King has forbid me. + +_Eu._ What King? + +_Fa._ Nay a Tyrant rather. + +_Eu._ What Tyrant prithee? + +_Fa._ I'll tell you in one Syllable. Custom (_Mos_). + +_Eu._ Alas! How many Things does that Tyrant exact beyond the Bounds of +Equity? But let us go on to talk of our Crystal and our common Glass. + +_Fa._ I believe you judge, that a Male is naturally more excellent and +strong than a Female. + +_Eu._ I believe they are. + +_Fa._ That is Mens Opinion. But are Men any Thing longer-liv'd than +Women? Are they free from Distempers? + +_Eu._ No, but in the general they are stronger. + +_Fa._ But then they themselves are excell'd by Camels in Strength. + +_Eu._ But besides, the Male was created first. + +_Fa._ So was _Adam_ before _Christ_. Artists use to be most exquisite in +their later Performances. + +_Eu._ But God put the Woman under Subjection to the Man. + +_Fa._ It does not follow of Consequence, that he is the better because +he commands, he subjects her as a Wife, and not purely as a Woman; and +besides that he so puts the Wife under Subjection, that tho' they have +each of them Power over the other, he will have the Woman to be obedient +to the Man, not as to the more excellent, but to the more fierce Person. +Tell me, _Eutrapelus_, which is the weaker Person, he that yields to +another, or he that is yielded to? + +_Eu._ I'll grant you that, if you will explain to me, what Paul meant +when he wrote to the _Corinthians_, that _Christ was the Head of the +Man, and Man the Head of the Woman;_ and again, when he said, that _a +Man was the Image and Glory of God, and a Woman the Glory of the Man._ + +_Fa._ Well! I'll resolve you that, if you answer me this Question, +Whether or no, it is given to Men alone, to be the Members of Christ? + +_Eu._ God forbid, that is given to all Men and Women too by Faith. + +_Fa._ How comes it about then, that when there is but one Head, it +should not be common to all the Members? And besides that, since God +made Man in his own Image, whether did he express this Image in the +Shape of his Body, or the Endowments of his Mind? + +_Eu._ In the Endowments of his Mind. + +_Fa._ Well, and I pray what have Men in these more excellent than we +have? In both Sexes, there are many Drunkennesses, Brawls, Fightings, +Murders, Wars, Rapines, and Adulteries. + +_Eu._ But we Men alone fight for our Country. + +_Fa._ And you Men often desert from your Colours, and run away like +Cowards; and it is not always for the Sake of your Country, that you +leave your Wives and Children, but for the Sake of a little nasty Pay; +and, worse than Fencers at the Bear-Garden, you deliver up your Bodies +to a slavish Necessity of being killed, or yourselves killing others. +And now after all your Boasting of your warlike Prowess, there is none +of you all, but if you had once experienced what it is to bring a Child +into the World, would rather be placed ten Times in the Front of a +Battle, than undergo once what we must so often. An Army does not always +fight, and when it does, the whole Army is not always engaged. Such as +you are set in the main Body, others are kept for Bodies of Reserve, and +some are safely posted in the Rear; and lastly, many save themselves by +surrendring, and some by running away. We are obliged to encounter +Death, Hand to Hand. + +_Eu._ I have heard these Stories before now; but the Question is, +Whether they are true or not? + +_Fa._ Too true. + +_Eu._ Well then, _Fabulla_, would you have me persuade your Husband +never to touch you more? For if so, you'll be secure from that Danger. + +_Fa._ In Truth, there is nothing in the World I am more desirious of, if +you were able to effect it. + +_Eu._ If I do persuade him to it, what shall I have for my Pains? + +_Fa._ I'll present you with half a Score dry'd Neats-Tongues. + +_Eu._ I had rather have them than the Tongues of ten Nightingales. Well, +I don't dislike the Condition, but we won't make the Bargain obligatory, +before we have agreed on the Articles. + +_Fa._ And if you please, you may add any other Article. + +_Eu._ That shall be according as you are in the Mind after your Month is +up. + +_Fa._ But why not according as I am in the Mind now? + +_Eu._ Why, I'll tell you, because I am afraid you will not be in the +same Mind then; and so you would have double Wages to pay, and I double +Work to do, of persuading and dissuading him. + +_Fa._ Well, let it be as you will then. But come on, shew me why the Man +is better than the Woman. + +_Eu._ I perceive you have a Mind to engage with me in Discourse, but I +think it more adviseable to yield to you at this Time. At another Time +I'll attack you when I have furnished myself with Arguments; but not +without a Second neither. For where the Tongue is the Weapon that +decides the Quarrel; seven Men are scarce able to Deal with one Woman. + +_Fa._ Indeed the Tongue is a Woman's Weapon; but you Men are not without +it neither. + +_Eu._ Perhaps so, but where is your little Boy? + +_Fa._ In the next Room. + +_Eu._ What is he doing there, cooking the Pot? + +_Fa._ You Trifler, he's with his Nurse. + +_Eu._ What Nurse do you talk of? Has he any Nurse but his Mother? + +_Fa._ Why not? It is the Fashion. + +_Eu._ You quote the worst Author in the World, _Fabulla_, the Fashion; +'tis the Fashion to do amiss, to game, to whore, to cheat, to be drunk, +and to play the Rake. + +_Fa._ My Friends would have it so; they were of Opinion I ought to +favour myself, being young. + +_Eu._ But if Nature gives Strength to conceive, it doubtless gives +Strength to give Suck too. + +_Fa._ That may be. + +_Eu._ Prithee tell me, don't you think Mother is a very pretty Name? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ And if such a Thing were possible, would you endure it, that +another Woman should be call'd the Mother of your Child? + +_Fa._ By no Means. + +_Eu._ Why then do you voluntarily make another Woman more than half the +Mother of what you have brought into the World? + +_Fa._ O fy! _Eutrapelus_, I don't divide my Son in two, I am intirely +his Mother, and no Body in the World else. + +_Eu._ Nay, _Fabulla_, in this Case Nature herself blames you to your +Face. Why is the Earth call'd the Mother of all Things? Is it because +she produces only? Nay, much rather, because she nourishes those Things +she produces: that which is produced by Water, is fed by Water. There is +not a living Creature or a Plant that grows on the Face of the Earth, +that the Earth does not feed with its own Moisture. Nor is there any +living Creature that does not feed its own Offspring. Owls, Lions, and +Vipers, feed their own Young, and does Womankind make her Offspring +Offcasts? Pray, what can be more cruel than they are, that turn their +Offspring out of Doors for Laziness, not to supply them with Food? + +_Fa._ That you talk of is abominable. + +_Eu._ But Womankind don't abominate it. Is it not a Sort of turning out +of Doors, to commit a tender little Infant, yet reaking of the Mother, +breathing the very Air of the Mother, imploring the Mother's Aid and +Help with its Voice, which they say will affect even a brute Creature, +to a Woman perhaps that is neither wholsome in Body, nor honest, who has +more Regard to a little Wages, than to your Child? + +_Fa._ But they have made Choice of a wholsome, sound Woman. + +_Eu._ Of this the Doctors are better Judges than yourself. But put the +Case, she is as healthful as yourself, and more too; do you think there +is no Difference between your little tender Infant's sucking its natural +and familiar Milk, and being cherish'd with Warmth it has been +accustomed to, and its being forc'd to accustom itself to those of a +Stranger? Wheat being sown in a strange Soil, degenerates into Oats or +small Wheat. A Vine being transplanted into another Hill, changes its +Nature. A Plant when it is pluck'd from its Parent Earth, withers, and +as it were dies away, and does in a Manner the same when it is +transplanted from its Native Earth. + +_Fa._ Nay, but they say, Plants that have been transplanted and grafted, +lose their wild Nature, and produce better Fruit. + +_Eu._ But not as soon as ever they peep out of the Ground, good Madam. +There will come a Time, by the Grace of God, when you will send away +your young Son from you out of Doors, to be accomplish'd with Learning +and undergo harsh Discipline, and which indeed is rather the Province of +the Father than of the Mother. But now its tender Age calls for +Indulgence. And besides, whereas the Food, according as it is, +contributes much to the Health and Strength of the Body, so more +especially it is essential to take Care, with what Milk that little, +tender, soft Body be season'd. For _Horace's_ Saying takes Place here. +_Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu. What is bred in +the Bone, will never out of the Flesh._ + +_Fa._ I don't so much concern myself as to his Body, so his Mind be but +as I would have it. + +_Eu._ That indeed is piously spoken, but not philosophically. + +_Fa._ Why not? + +_Eu._ Why do you when you shred Herbs, complain your Knife is blunt, and +order it to be whetted? Why do you reject a blunt pointed Needle, when +that does not deprive you of your Art? + +_Fa._ Art is not wanting, but an unfit Instrument hinders the exerting +it. + +_Eu._ Why do they that have much Occasion to use their Eyes, avoid +Darnel and Onions? + +_Fa._ Because they hurt the Sight. + +_Eu._ Is it not the Mind that sees? + +_Fa._ It is, for those that are dead see nothing. But what can a +Carpenter do with an Ax whose Edge is spoiled? + +_Eu._ Then you do acknowledge the Body is the Organ of the Mind? + +_Fa._ That's plain. + +_Eu._ And you grant that in a vitiated Body the Mind either cannot act +at all, or if it does, it is with Inconvenience? + +_Fa._ Very likely. + +_Eu._ Well, I find I have an intelligent Person to deal with; suppose +the Soul of a Man was to pass into the Body of a Cock, would it make the +same Sound it does now? + +_Fa._ No to be sure. + +_Eu._ What would hinder? + +_Fa._ Because it would want Lips, Teeth, and a Tongue, like to that of a +Man. It has neither the Epiglottis, nor the three Cartilages, that are +moved by three Muscles, to which Nerves are joined that come from the +Brain; nor has it Jaws and Teeth like a Man's. + +_Eu._ What if it should go into the Body of a Swine? + +_Fa._ Then it would grunt like a Swine. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of a Camel? + +_Fa._ It would make a Noise like a Camel. + +_Eu._ What if it should pass into the Body of an Ass, as it happened to +_Apuleius_? + +_Fa._ Then I think it would bray as an Ass does. + +_Eu._ Indeed he is a Proof of this, who when he had a Mind to call after +_Caesar_, having contracted his Lips as much as he possibly could, +scarce pronounced O, but could by no Means pronounce _Caesar._ The same +Person, when having heard a Story, and that he might not forget it, +would have written it, reprehended himself for his foolish Thought, when +he beheld his solid Hoofs. + +_Fa._ And he had Cause enough. + +_Eu._ Then it follows that the Soul does not see well thro' purblind +Eyes. The Ears hear not clearly when stopped with Filth. The Brain +smells not so well when oppressed with Phlegm. And a Member feels not so +much when it is benumbed. The Tongue tastes less, when vitiated with ill +Humours. + +_Fa._ These Things can't be denied. + +_Eu._ And for no other Cause, but because the Organ is vitiated. + +_Fa._ I believe the same. + +_Eu._ Nor will you deny, I suppose, that sometimes it is vitiated by +Food and Drink. + +_Fa._ I'll grant that too, but what signifies that to the Goodness of +the Mind? + +_Eu._ As much as Darnel does to a clear Eye-Sight. + +_Fa._ Because it vitiates the Organ. + +_Eu._ Well answer'd. But solve me this Difficulty: Why is it that one +understands quicker than another, and has a better Memory; why is one +more prone to Anger than another; or is more moderate in his Resentment? + +_Fa._ It proceeds from the Disposition of the Mind. + +_Eu._ That won't do. Whence comes it that one who was formerly of a very +ready Wit, and a retentive Memory, becomes afterwards stupid and +forgetful, either by a Blow or a Fall, by Sickness or old Age? + +_Fa._ Now you seem to play the Sophister with me. + +_Eu._ Then do you play the Sophistress with me. + +_Fa._ I suppose you would infer, that as the Mind sees and hears by the +Eyes and Ears, so by some Organs it also understands, remembers, loves, +hates, is provoked and appeas'd? + +_Eu._ Right. + +_Fa._ But pray what are those Organs, and where are they situated? + +_Eu._ As to the Eyes, you see where they are. + +_Fa._ I know well enough where the Ears, and the Nose, and the Palate +are; and that the Body is all over sensible of the Touch, unless when +some Member is seized with a Numbness. + +_Eu._ When a Foot is cut off, yet the Mind understands. + +_Fa._ It does so, and when a Hand is cut off too. + +_Eu._ A Person that receives a violent Blow on the Temples, or +hinder-Part of his Head, falls down like one that is dead, and is +unsensible. + +_Fa._ I have sometimes seen that myself. + +_Eu._ Hence it is to be collected, that the Organs of the Will, +Understanding, and Memory, are placed within the Skull, being not so +crass as the Eyes and Ears, and yet are material, in as much as the most +subtile Spirits that we have in the Body are corporeal. + +_Fa._ And can they be vitiated with Meat and Drink too? + +_Eu._ Yes. + +_Fa._ The Brain is a great Way off from the Stomach. + +_Eu._ And so is the Funnel of a Chimney from the Fire-Hearth, yet if +you sit upon it you'll feel the Smoke. + +_Fa._ I shan't try that Experiment. + +_Eu._ Well, if you won't believe me, ask the Storks. And so it is of +Moment what Spirits, and what Vapours ascend from the Stomach to the +Brain, and the Organs of the Mind. For if these are crude or cold they +stay in the Stomach. + +_Fa._ Pshaw! You're describing to me an Alembick, in which we distil +Simple-Waters. + +_Eu._ You don't guess much amiss. For the Liver, to which the Gall +adheres, is the Fire-Place; the Stomach, the Pan; the Scull, the Top of +the Still; and if you please, you may call the Nose the Pipe of it. And +from this Flux or Reflux of Humours, almost all Manner of Diseases +proceed, according as a different Humour falls down after a different +Manner, sometimes into the Eyes, sometimes into the Stomach, sometimes +into the Shoulders, and sometimes into the Neck, and elsewhere. And that +you may understand me the better, why have those that guzzle a great +Deal of Wine bad Memories? Why are those that feed upon light Food, not +of so heavy a Disposition? Why does Coriander help the Memory? Why does +Hellebore purge the Memory? Why does a great Expletion cause an +Epilepsy, which at once brings a Stupor upon all the Senses, as in a +profound Sleep? In the last Place, as violent Thirst or Want weaken the +Strength of Wit or Memory in Boys, so Food eaten immoderately makes Boys +dull-headed, if we believe _Aristotle_; in that the Fire of the Mind is +extinguish'd by the heaping on too much Matter. + +_Fa._ Why then, is the Mind corporeal, so as to be affected with +corporeal Things? + +_Eu._ Indeed the Nature itself of the rational Soul is not corrupted; +but the Power and Action of it are impeded by the Organs being vitiated, +as the Art of an Artist will stand him in no Stead, if he has not +Instruments. + +_Fa._ Of what Bulk, and in what Form is the Mind? + +_Eu._ You ask a ridiculous Question, what Bulk and Form the Mind is of, +when you have allow'd it to be incorporeal. + +_Fa._ I mean the Body that is felt. + +_Eu._ Nay, those Bodies that are not to be felt are the most perfect +Bodies, as God and the Angels. + +_Fa._ I have heard that God and Angels are Spirits, but we feel the +Spirit. + +_Eu._ The Holy Scriptures condescend to those low Expressions, because +of the Dullness of Men, to signify a Mind pure from all Commerce of +sensible Things. + +_Fa._ Then what is the Difference between an Angel and a Mind? + +_Eu._ The same that is between a Snail and a Cockle, or, if you like the +Comparison better, a Tortoise. + +_Fa._ Then the Body is rather the Habitation of the Mind than the +Instrument of it. + +_Eu._ There is no Absurdity in calling an adjunct Instrument an +Habitation. Philosophers are divided in their Opinions about this. Some +call the Body the Garment of the Soul, some the House, some the +Instrument, and some the Harmony; call it by which of these you will, it +will follow that the Actions of the Mind are impeded by the Affections +of the Body. In the first Place, if the Body is to the Mind that which a +Garment is to the Body, the Garment of _Hercules_ informs us how much a +Garment contributes to the Health of the Body, not to take any Notice of +Colours of Hairs or of Skins. But as to that Question, whether one and +the same Soul is capable of wearing out many Bodies, it shall be left to +_Pythagoras_. + +_Fa._ If, according to _Pythagoras_, we could make Use of Change of +Bodies, as we do of Apparel, it would be convenient to take a fat Body, +and of a thick Texture, in Winter Time, and a thinner and lighter Body +in Summer Time. + +_Eu._ But I am of the Opinion, that if we wore out our Body at last as +we do our Cloaths; it would not be convenient; for so having worn out +many Bodies, the Soul itself would grow old and die. + +_Fa._ It would not truly. + +_Eu._ As the Sort of Garment that is worn hath an Influence on the +Health and Agility of the Body, so it is of great Moment what Body the +Soul wears. + +_Fa._ If indeed the Body is the Garment of the Soul, I see a great many +that are dress'd after a very different Manner. + +_Eu._ Right, and yet some Part of this Matter is in our own Power, how +conveniently our Souls shall be cloathed. + +_Fa._ Come, have done with the Garment, and say something concerning the +Habitation. + +_Eu._ But, _Fabulla_, that what I say to you mayn't be thought a +Fiction, the _Lord Jesus_ calls his Body a _Temple_, and the Apostle +_Peter_ calls his a _Tabernacle_. And there have been some that have +call'd the Body the Sepulchre of the Soul, supposing it was call'd +[Greek: soma], as tho' it were [Greek: sema]. Some call it the Prison of +the Mind, and some the Fortress or fortify'd Castle. The Minds of +Persons that are pure in every Part, dwell in the Temple. They whose +Minds are not taken up with the Love of corporeal Things, dwell in a +Tent, and are ready to come forth as soon as the Commander calls. The +Soul of those that are wholly blinded with Vice and Filthiness, so that +they never breathe after the Air of Gospel Liberty, lies in a Sepulchre. +But they that wrestle hard with their Vices, and can't yet be able to do +what they would do, their Soul dwells in a Prison, whence they +frequently cry out to the Deliverer of all, _Bring my Soul out of +Prison, that I may praise thy Name, O Lord._ They who fight strenuously +with Satan, watching and guarding against his Snares, who goes about as +_a roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour;_ their Soul is as it were +in a Garison, out of which they must not go without the General's Leave. + +_Fa._ If the Body be the Habitation or House of the Soul, I see a great +many whose Mind is very illy seated. + +_Eu._ It is so, that is to say, in Houses where it rains in, that are +dark, exposed to all Winds, that are smoaky, damp, decay'd, and ruinous, +and such as are filthy and infected: and yet _Cato_ accounts it the +principal Happiness of a Man, to dwell handsomly. + +_Fa._ It were tolerable, if there was any passing out of one House into +another. + +_Eu._ There's no going out before the Landlord calls out. But tho' we +can't go out, yet we may by our Art and Care make the Habitation of our +Mind commodious; as in a House the Windows are changed, the Floor taken +up, the Walls are either plaistered or wainscotted, and the Situation +may be purified with Fire or Perfume. But this is a very hard Matter, in +an old Body that is near its Ruin. But it is of great Advantage to the +Body of a Child, to take the Care of it that ought to be taken presently +after its Birth. + +_Fa._ You would have Mothers and Nurses to be Doctors. + +_Eu._ So indeed I would, as to the Choice and moderate Use of Meat, +Drink, Motion, Sleep, Baths, Unctions, Frictions, and Cloathings. How +many are there, think you, who are expos'd to grievous Diseases and +Vices, as Epilepsies, Leanness, Weakness, Deafness, broken Backs, +crooked Limbs, a weak Brain, disturbed Minds, and for no other Reason +than that their Nurses have not taken a due Care of them? + +_Fa._ I wonder you are not rather a _Franciscan_ than a Painter, who +preach so finely. + +_Eu._ When you are a Nun of the Order of St. _Clare_, then I'll be a +_Franciscan_, and preach to you. + +_Fa._ In Truth, I would fain know what the Soul is, about which we hear +so much, and talk of so often, and no Body has seen. + +_Eu._ Nay, every Body sees it that has Eyes. + +_Fa._ I see Souls painted in the Shape of little Infants, but why do +they put Wings to them as they do to Angels? + +_Eu._ Why, because, if we can give any Credit to the Fables of +_Socrates_, their Wings were broken by their falling from Heaven. + +_Fa._ How then are they said to fly up to Heaven? + +_Eu._ Because Faith and Charity make their Wings grow again. He that was +weary of this House of his Body, begg'd for these Wings, when he cry'd +out, _Who will give me the Wings of a Dove, that I may fly away, and be +at rest_. Nor has the Soul any other Wings, being incorporeal, nor any +Form that can be beheld by the Eyes of the Body. But those Things that +are perceiv'd by the Mind, are more certain. Do you believe the Being of +God? + +_Fa._ Yes, I do. + +_Eu._ But nothing is more invisible than God. + +_Fa._ He is seen in the Works of Creation. + +_Eu._ In like Manner the Soul is seen in Action. If you would know how +it acts in a living Body, consider a dead Body. When you see a Man Feel, +See, Hear, Move, Understand, Remember and Reason, you see the Soul to be +in him with more Certainty than you see this Tankard; for one Sense may +be deceiv'd, but so many Proofs of the Senses cannot deceive you. + +_Fa._ Well then, if you can't shew me the Soul, paint it out to me, just +as you would the King, whom I never did see. + +_Eu._ I have _Aristotle_'s Definition ready for you. + +_Fa._ What is it? for they say he was a very good Decypherer of every +Thing. + +_Eu. The Soul is the Act of an Organical, Physical Body, having Life_ in +Potentia. + +_Fa._ Why does he rather call it an _Act_ than a _Journey_ or _Way?_ + +_Eu._ Here's no Regard either to Coachmen or Horsemen, but a bare +Definition of the Soul. And he calls the Form _Act_, the Nature of which +is to _act_, when it is the Property of Matter to _suffer_. For all +natural Motion of the Body proceeds from the Soul. And the Motion of the +Body is various. + +_Fa._ I take that in; but why does he add _of an Organical_? + +_Eu._ Because the Soul does nothing but by the Help of Organs, that is, +by the Instruments of the Body. + +_Fa._ Why does he say _Physical_? + +_Eu._ Because _Daedalus_ made such a Body to no Purpose; and therefore he +adds, _having Life_ in Potentia. Form does not act upon every Thing; but +upon a Body that is capable. + +_Fa._ What if an Angel should pass into the Body of a Man? + +_Eu._ He would act indeed, but not by the natural Organs, nor would he +give Life to the Body if the Soul was absent from it. + +_Fa._ Have I had all the Account that is to be given of the Soul? + +_Eu._ You have _Aristotle_'s Account of it. + +_Fa._ Indeed I have heard he was a very famous Philosopher, and I am +afraid that the College of Sages would prefer a Bill of Heresy against +me, if I should say any Thing against him; but else all that he has said +concerning the Soul of a Man, is as applicable to the Soul of an Ass or +an Ox. + +_Eu._ Nay, that's true, or to a Beetle or a Snail. + +_Fa._ What Difference then is there between the Soul of an Ox, and that +of a Man? + +_Eu._ They that say the Soul is nothing else but the Harmony of the +Qualities of the Body, would confess that there was no great Difference; +and that this Harmony being interrupted, the Souls of both of them do +perish. The Soul of a Man and an Ox is not distinguished; but that of an +Ox has less Knowledge than the Soul of a Man. And there are some Men to +be seen that have less Understanding than an Ox. + +_Fa._ In Truth, they have the Mind of an Ox. + +_Eu._ This indeed concerns you, that according to the Quality of your +Guittar, your Musick will be the sweeter. + +_Fa._ I own it. + +_Eu._ Nor is it of small Moment of what Wood, and in what Shape your +Guittar is made. + +_Fa._ Very true. + +_Eu._ Nor are Fiddle-Strings made of the Guts of every Animal. + +_Fa._ So I have heard. + +_Eu._ They grow slack or tight by the Moisture and Driness of the +circumambient Air, and will sometimes break. + +_Fa._ I have seen that more than once. + +_Eu._ On this Account you may do uncommon Service to your little +Infant, that his Mind may have an Instrument well tempered, and not +vitiated, nor relaxed by Sloth, nor squeaking with Wrath, nor hoarse +with intemperate drinking. For Education and Diet oftentimes impress us +with these Affections. + +_Fa._ I'll take your Counsel; but I want to hear how you can defend +_Aristotle_. + +_Eu._ He indeed in general describes the Soul, Animal, Vegetative, and +Sensitive. The Soul gives Life, but every Thing that has Life is not an +Animal. For Trees live, grow old, and die; but they have no Sense; tho' +some attribute to them a stupid Sort of Sense. In Things that adhere one +to another, there is no Sense to be perceived, but it is found in a +Sponge by those that pull it off. Hewers discover a Sense in +Timber-Trees, if we may believe them: For they say, that if you strike +the Trunk of a Tree that you design to hew down, with the Palm of your +Hand, as Wood-Mongers use to do, it will be harder to cut that Tree down +because it has contracted itself with Fear. But that which has Life and +Feeling is an Animal. But nothing hinders that which does not feel, from +being a Vegetable, as Mushrooms, Beets, and Coleworts. + +_Fa._ If they have a Sort of Life, a Sort of Sense, and Motion in their +growing, what hinders but that they may be honoured with the Title of +Animals? + +_Eu._ Why the Antients did not think fit to call them so, and we must +not deviate from their Ordinances, nor does it signify much as to what +we are upon. + +_Fa._ But I can't bear the Thoughts on't, that the Soul of a Beetle and +of a Man should be the same. + +_Eu._ Good Madam, it is not the same, saving in some Respects; your Soul +animates, vegetates, and renders your Body sensible; the Soul of the +Beetle animates his Body: For that some Things act one Way, and some +another, that the Soul of a Man acts differently from the Soul of a +Beetle, partly proceeds from the Matter; a Beetle neither sings nor +speaks, because it wants Organs fit for these Actions. + +_Fa._ Why then you say, that if the Soul of a Beetle should pass into +the Body of a Man, it would act as the human Soul does. + +_Eu._ Nay, I say not, if it were an angelical Soul: And there is no +Difference between an Angel and a human Soul, but that the Soul of a Man +was formed to act a human Body compos'd of natural Organs; and as the +Soul of a Beetle will move nothing but the Body of a Beetle, an Angel +was not made to animate a Body, but to be capable to understand without +bodily Organs. + +_Fa._ Can the Soul do the same Thing? + +_Eu._ It can indeed, when it is separated from the Body. + +_Fa._ Is it not at its own Disposal, while it is in the Body? + +_Eu._ No indeed, except something happen beside the common Course of +Nature. + +_Fa._ In Truth, instead of one Soul you have given me a great many; an +animal, a vegetative, a sensitive, an intelligent, a remembring, a +willing, an angry, and desiring: One was enough for me. + +_Eu._ There are different Actions of the same Soul, and these have +different Names. + +_Fa._ I don't well understand you. + +_Eu._ Well then, I'll make you understand me: You are a Wife in the +Bed-Chamber, in your Work-Shop a Weaver of Hangings, in your Warehouse a +Seller of them, in your Kitchen a Cook, among your Servants a Mistress, +and among your Children a Mother; and yet you are all these in the same +House. + +_Fa._ You philosophize very bluntly. Is then the Soul so in the Body as +I am in my House? + +_Eu._ It is. + +_Fa._ But while I am weaving in my Work-Shop, I am not cooking in my +Kitchen. + +_Eu._ Nor are you all Soul, but a Soul carrying about a Body, and the +Body can't be in many Places at the same Time; but the Soul being a +simple Form, is so in the whole Body, tho' it does not act the same in +all Parts of the Body, nor after the same Manner, how differently +affected soever they are: For it understands and remembers in the Brain, +it is angry in the Heart, it lusts in the Liver, it hears with the Ears, +sees with the Eyes, smells with the Nose, it tastes in the Palate and +Tongue, and feels in all Parts of the Body which are adjoined to any +nervous Part: But it does not feel in the Hair, nor the Ends of the +Nails; neither do the Lungs feel of themselves, nor the Liver, nor +perhaps the Milt neither. + +_Fa._ So that in certain Parts of the Body it only animates and +vegetates. + +_Eu._ It should seem so. + +_Fa._ If one and the same Soul does all these Things in one and the same +Man, it follows of Consequence, that the _Foetus_ in the Womb of the +Mother, both feels and understands, as soon as it begins to grow; which +is a Sign of Life, unless a Man in his Formation has more Souls than +one, and afterwards the rest giving Place, one acts all. So that at +first a Man is a Plant, then an Animal, and lastly a Man. + +_Eu._ Perhaps _Aristotle_ would not think what you say absurd: I think +it is more probable, that the rational Soul is infus'd with the Life, +and that like a little Fire that is buried as it were under too great a +Quantity of green Wood, it cannot exert its Power. + +_Fa._ Why then is the Soul bound to the Body that it acts and moves? + +_Eu._ No otherwise than a Tortoise is bound or tied to the Shell that he +carries about. + +_Fa._ He does move it indeed; but so at the same Time that he moves +himself too, as a Pilot steers a Ship, turning it which Way he will, and +is at the same Time mov'd with it. + +_Eu._ Ay, and as a Squirrel turns his Wheel-Cage about, and is himself +carried about with it. + +_Fa._ And so the Soul affects the Body, and is affected by the Body. + +_Eu._ Yes indeed, as to its Operations. + +_Fa._ Why then, as to the Nature of it, the Soul of a Fool is equal to +the Soul of _Solomon_. + +_Eu._ There's no Absurdity in that. + +_Fa._ And so the Angels are equal, in as much as they are without +Matter, which, you say, is that which makes the Inequality. + +_Eu._ We have had Philosophy enough: Let Divines puzzle themselves about +these Things; let us discourse of those Matters that were first +mentioned. If you would be a compleat Mother, take Care of the Body of +your little Infant, so that after the little Fire of the Mind has +disengaged itself from the Vapours, it may have sound and fit Organs to +make Use of. As often as you hear your Child crying, think this with +yourself, he calls for this from me. When you look upon your Breasts, +those two little Fountains, turgid, and of their own Accord streaming +out a milky Juice, remember Nature puts you in Mind of your Duty: Or +else, when your Infant shall begin to speak, and with his pretty +Stammering shall call you _Mammy_, How can you hear it without blushing? +when you have refus'd to let him have it, and turn'd him off to a +hireling Nipple, as if you had committed him to a Goat or a Sheep. When +he is able to speak, what if, instead of calling you Mother, he should +call you Half-Mother? I suppose you would whip him: Altho' indeed she is +scarce Half a Mother that refuses to feed what she has brought into the +World. The nourishing of the tender Babe is the best Part of Geniture: +For he is not only fed by the Milk, but with the Fragrancy of the Body +of the Mother. He requires the same natural, familiar, accustomed +Moisture, that he drew in when in her Body, and by which he received his +Coalition. And I am of that Opinion, that the Genius of Children are +vitiated by the Nature of the Milk they suck, as the Juices of the Earth +change the Nature of those Plants and Fruits that it feeds. Do you think +there is no Foundation in Reason for this Saying, _He suck'd in this ill +Humour with the Nurse's Milk?_ Nor do I think the Greeks spoke without +Reason, when they said _like Nurses_, when they would intimate that any +one was starved at Nurse: For they put a little of what they chew into +the Child's Mouth, but the greatest Part goes down their own Throats. +And indeed she can hardly properly be said to bear a Child, that throws +it away as soon as she has brought it forth; that is to miscarry, and +the _Greek_ Etymology of [Greek: Meter] from [Greek: me terein], _i.e._ +from not looking after, seems very well to suit such Mothers. For it is +a Sort of turning a little Infant out of Doors, to put it to a hireling +Nurse, while it is yet warm from the Mother. + +_Fa._ I would come over to your Opinion, unless such a Woman were +chosen, against whom there is nothing to be objected. + +_Eu._ Suppose it were of no Moment what Milk the little Infant suck'd, +what Spittle it swallow'd with its chew'd Victuals; and you had such a +Nurse, that I question whether there is such an one to be found; do you +think there is any one in the World will go through all the Fatigue of +Nursing as the Mother herself; the Bewrayings, the Sitting up a Nights, +the Crying, the Sickness, and the diligent Care in looking after it, +which can scarce be enough. If there can be one that loves like the +Mother, then she will take Care like a Mother. And besides, this will be +the Effect of it, that your Son won't love you so heartily, that native +Affection being as it were divided between two Mothers; nor will you +have the same Affection for your Son: So that when he is grown up, he +will neither be so obedient to you, nor will you have the same Regard +for him, perhaps perceiving in him the Disposition of his Nurse. The +principal Step to Advancement in Learning, is the mutual Love between +the Teacher and Scholar: So that if he does not lose any Thing of the +Fragrancy of his native good Temper, you will with the greater Ease be +able to instil into him the Precepts of a good Life. And a Mother can do +much in this Matter, in that she has pliable Matter to work upon, that +is easy to be carried any Way. + +_Fa._ I find it is not so easy a Thing to be a Mother, as it is +generally looked upon to be. + +_Eu._ If you can't depend upon what I say, St. _Paul_, speaking very +plainly of Women, says, _She shall be saved in Childbearing._ + +_Fa._ Are all the Women saved that bear Children? + +_Eu._ No, he adds, _if she continue in the Faith_. You have not +performed the Duty of a Mother before you have first formed the little +tender Body of your Son, and after that his Mind, equally soft, by a +good Education. + +_Fa._ But it is not in the Power of the Mother that the Children should +persevere in Piety. + +_Eu._ Perhaps it may not be; but a careful Admonition is of that Moment, +that _Paul_ accounts it imputable to Mothers, if the Children degenerate +from Piety. But in the last Place, if you do what is in your Power, God +will add his Assistance to your Diligence. + +_Fa._ Indeed _Eutrapelus_, your Discourse has persuaded me, if you can +but persuade my Parents and my Husband. + +_Eu._ Well, I'll take that upon me, if you will but lend your helping +Hand. + +_Fa._ I promise you I will. + +_Eu._ But mayn't a Body see this little Boy? + +_Fa._ Yes, that you may and welcome. Do you hear, _Syrisca_, bid the +Nurse bring the Child. + +_Eu._ 'Tis a very pretty Boy. It is a common Saying, there ought to be +Grains of Allowance given to the first Essay: But you upon the first +Trial have shewn the very highest Pitch of Art. + +_Fa._ Why, it is not a Piece of carved Work, that so much Art should be +required. + +_Eu._ That's true; but it is a Piece of cast Work. Well, let that be how +it will, it is well performed. I wish you could make as good Figures in +the Hangings that you weave. + +_Fa._ But you on the Contrary paint better than you beget. + +_Eu._ It so seems meet to Nature, to act equally by all. How solicitous +is Nature, that nothing should be lost! It has represented two Persons +in one; here's the Nose and Eyes of the Father, the Forehead and Chin of +the Mother Can you find in your Heart to entrust this dear Pledge to +the Fidelity of a Stranger? I think those to be doubly cruel that can +find in their Hearts so to do; because in doing so, they do not only do +this to the Hazard of the Child; but also of themselves too; because in +the Child, the spoiling of the Milk oftentimes brings dangerous +Diseases, and so it comes about, that while Care is taken to preserve +the Shape of one Body, the Lives of two Bodies are not regarded; and +while they provide against old Age coming on too early, they throw +themselves into a too early Death. What's the Boy's Name? + +_Fa. Cornelius_. + +_Eu._ That's the Name of his Grand-Father by the Father's Side. I wish +he may imitate him in his unblemished Life and good Manners. + +_Fa._ We will do our Endeavour what in us lies. But, hark ye, +_Eutrapelus_, here is one Thing I would earnestly entreat of you. + +_Eu._ I am entirely at your Service; command what you will, I will +undertake it. + +_Fa._ Well then, I won't discharge you till you have finished the good +Service that you have begun. + +_Eu._ What's that? + +_Fa._ First of all, to give me Instructions how I may manage my Infant, +as to his Health, and when he is grown up, how I may form his Mind with +pious Principles. + +_Eu._ That I will readily do another Time, according to my Ability; but +that must be at our next Conversation: I will now go and prevail upon +your Husband and Parents. + +_Fa._ I wish you may succeed. + + +END OF VOL. 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