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 thetranslation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. Inhis Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation asmight in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close tothe original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from theEnglish Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure thatErasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin. "

This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chiefpeculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic andproverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases andallusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogousEnglish forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographicalstudies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words andphrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construesErasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than theoriginal. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has acertain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest evenby those who are familiar with the original. 

In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefullyrevised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty hasnot been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removingthe coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which heexaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling isjealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations. 

Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation hasbeen closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracieson Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at theend of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes itslanguage, has in many of these notes been given, with the view ofincreasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainderof the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneouscharacter: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, ofcourse, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed toafford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may beintelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to someextent 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 ofpeculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life andmanners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all findthemselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many whoat the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of abook which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on itsappearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the makingof history. 

It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editorundertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as tospace and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea ofwhat the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting inaccuracy, however falling short of completeness. 

The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed bythe Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Frobenhas been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_, not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon thehistory 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 dearestErasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappointmy expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seizeupon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has hadrepeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You mightsay it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, whofoster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you alsomay be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning andprobity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep causefor shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latinscholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profitshould not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. Andsince there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of theColloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your faultthe 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 mustalso endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in soundlearning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed uponyou: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would beglorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannotwithout the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your coursethus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring therunner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrivedat an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life forimbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, thatthese Colloquies may be truly called yours. 

The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from allpollutions, 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 CERTAINDOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUSRIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF. 

_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collectedpartly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture ofcertain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in badLatin, --perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderfulapplause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I wascompelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, havingapplied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that thebook might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of thehonour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy thensix years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done inthe year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receivesaddition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made anaddition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but sotempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, andtheir use in polishing the style, they might also contain that whichwould conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I havereferred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read withwonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, itcould not escape [Greek: tôn sykophantôn dêgmata]. A certain divine ofLouvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in itfour heretical passages. There was also another incident connected withthis work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certainpassages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attackmonks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kindwhich, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source ofmore plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this sostupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some streetbuffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certaindivine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it toadd his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to havesuppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would ratherlook for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in myname, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction ofone boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. Herepresents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and inpiety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling ofcertain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know thatsome will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such ahater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and mostaccomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he representsme as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter ofJerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letterunder his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he wasmade to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falselytranslated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would havesucceeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, hadthey been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style. Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurableroguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is morerascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting inpower to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up toErasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowerypreface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life isstill spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest thosewho follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul!

_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunkfrom interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself ina most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment ofdivines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whomhe supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detectthe patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does heeverywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, theColleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anythinguncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it tothe British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added someodious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatredagainst me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It isneedless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makesadditions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud, rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rootingup everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made byme are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchmanyou are turned into a Gaul, '[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I aCapon then, when I went hence?': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you areturned 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 arechanged 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 Latinin French style, ' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British, ' _and yetallows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses, because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to theBritish. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls'_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle?' _he thus spoilsthe joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to warwith the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war. Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations doesnot hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'IsParis free from the plague?' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from theplague?' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraidto cut up this capon?' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes noalteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg?' _Forsooth, although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired tosit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal minda cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in mytext_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books ofone Cicero. ' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of thecontents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my textrallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless putsfaith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess thathe, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope'sindulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speakeras recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wantsto appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just asif one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in thehuman body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should curethe wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made toGod is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confessionwhich is made to the priest is the best. ' _Thus did he take care forimperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sakeof example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. Andthese answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my namein his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing apalinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in thatwork of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For itdoes not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, asburdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publishanything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of thiskind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who isslandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divinewhen his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theologicalscience. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his liesupon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as tobe willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder atthe incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was achick 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 thereport is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those whopride themselves on having at length secured a man who by thethunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party ofLuther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrotealso against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that theyare 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 suchan act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And thesethings are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even theGospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty. 

This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, isissued 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 furtherparticulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name wasLambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing agarbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending tobe a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soonstolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, andwould have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowlsaved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been provedagainst him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think, Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers, --his cowl thrown aside, teaching theGospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellowout. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. Andthis 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 bythe letters of trustworthy friends, expressly stating in what words, inwhat place, a calumny was directed against me in our midst, through theagency of a well-known person, who is ever true to himself; whose verycharacter and former doings lead one to assume as ascertained fact whatin another would have been but probable. Accordingly, I thought I oughtto make no concealment of the matter; especially from you, whose part itwas to restrain the unbridled impudence of the fellow, if not for mysake, at all events for that of your Order. 

He boasts and vociferates that in the book of Colloquies there are fourpassages more than heretical: concerning the _Eating of meats_ and_Fasting_, concerning _Indulgences_, and concerning _Vows_, Althoughsuch be his bold and impudent assertion, whoever reads the book in itsentirety will find the facts to be otherwise. If, however, leisure bewanting for the reading of trifles of this description, I will brieflylay the matter open. But before I approach it, I think well to makethree prefatory remarks. 

First, in this matter contempt of the Emperor's edict[C] cannot be laidto my charge. For I understand it was published May 6th, 1522, whereasthis book was printed long before: and that at Basle, where no Imperialedict 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, butformulae for speaking Latin; yet there are matters intermixed by theway, which conduce to good manners. Now if, when a theme has beenpreviously written down in German or French, a master should teach hisboys to render the sense in Latin thus: _Utinam nihil edant praeterallia, qui nobis hos dies pisculentos invexerunt_. ("Would they mighteat naught but garlic, who imposed these fish-days upon us. ") Or this:_Utinam inedia pereant, qui liberos homines adigunt ac jejunandinecessitatem_. ("Would they might starve to death, who force thenecessity of fasting on free men. ") Or this: _Digni sunt ut fumo pereantqui 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: _Utinamvere castrentur, qui nolentes arcent à matrimonio_. ("Would they mightindeed be made eunuchs of, who keep people from marrying, against theirwill")--I ask, whether he should be forced to defend himself, for havingtaught how to turn a sentence, though of bad meaning, into good Latinwords? 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 itshould be to whom I ascribe the speech in the dialogue. For I do notthere represent a divine preaching, but good fellows having a gossiptogether. Now if any one is so unfair as to refuse to concede me thequality of the person represented, he ought, by the same reasoning, tolay it to my charge, that there one Augustine (I think) disparages theStoics' principle of the _honestum_, and prefers the sect of theEpicureans, who placed the highest good in pleasure. He may also bringit against me, that in that passage a soldier, amongst many things whichhe speaks about in true soldier-fashion, says that he will look for apriest to confess to, who shall have as little of good as possible abouthim. The same objector would, I imagine, bring it up against me, were Ito ascribe to Arius in a dialogue a discourse at variance with theChurch. If such charges against me would be absurd, why in other mattersshould not regard be had to the quality of the person speaking? Unlessperchance, were I to represent a Turk speaking, they should decide tolay at my door whatever he might say. 

With this preface, I will make a few general remarks on the passagescriticised by the person to whom I refer. In the first passage, a boy ofsixteen years says that he confesses only sins that are unquestionablycapital, or gravely suspected; while the Lutherans teach, as Iunderstand, that it is not necessary to confess all capital offences. Thus the very facts show, that this boy's speech is in greatdisagreement with the dogma which you condemn. Presently, the same boybeing asked, whether it be sufficient to confess to Christ himself, answers that it will satisfy his mind, if the fathers of the Church wereof the same opinion. From this my critic argues, not with dialectic art, but with rascally cunning, that I suggest that this _Confession_ whichwe now practise was not instituted by Christ, but by the leaders of theChurch. Such an inference might appear sound, were not Christ one of thePrimates of the Church, since according to Peter's saying He is ChiefShepherd, and according to the word of the Gospel, Good Shepherd. Therefore he who speaks of princes of the Church, does not excludeChrist, but includes Him along with the Apostles, and the successors ofthe Apostles, in the same manner as he who names the principal membersof the body does not exclude the head. But if any one shall deem thisreply to savour of artifice: well now, let us grant that the boy wasthinking of pure men, heads of the Church: is it then not enough for theboy that he follows in the matter of confession their authority, evenalthough he is not assured whether the Popes could ordain this on theirown authority, or handed it down to us from the ordinance of Christ? Forhe has a mind to obey, in whatever way they have handed it down. I amnot even myself fully convinced as yet, that the Church defined thepresent practice of Confession to be of Christ's ordinance. For thereare very many arguments, to me in fact insoluble, which persuade to thecontrary. Nevertheless, I entirely submit this feeling of my own to thejudgment 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 Bullgiven the fullest expression of this doctrine, and any one should eitherbe ignorant of it, or should have forgotten it, it would meanwhilesuffice (I imagine) to obey in this matter the authority of the Church, with a disposition of obedience, should the point be established. Nor intruth can it be rightly inferred, _This Confession is of humanordinance, therefore Christ is not its Author_. The Apostles laid downthe discipline of the Church, without doubt from Christ's ordinances:they ordained Baptism, they ordained Bishops, &c. , but by the authorityof Christ. And yet it cannot be denied, that many particulars of thisConfession depend on the appointment of the Pontiffs, viz. , that weconfess once a year, at Easter, to this or that priest; that any priestabsolves us from any trespasses whatever. Hence I judge it to be clearhow manifest is the calumny in what relates to _Confession_. 

Further, no mention is there made of _fasting_, to which the Gospel andthe Apostolic epistles exhort us, but _concerning the choice of foods_, which Christ openly sets at naught in the Gospel, and the Paulineepistles not seldom condemn; especially that which is Jewish andsuperstitious. Some one will say, this is to accuse the Roman Pontiffwho teaches that which the Apostle condemns. What the Gospel teaches, is perfectly plain. The Pontiff himself must declare with what intentionhe commands what the Gospel does not require. Yet no one theresays--what I know not whether Luther teaches--that the constitutions ofthe Pontiffs do not render us liable to guilt, unless there has beencontempt besides. In fact, he who speaks in that passage grants that thePope may appoint an observance; he simply enquires, whether this werethe intention of the Pope, to bind all equally to abstinence from meats, so that one who should partake would be liable to hell-fire, evenalthough no perverse contempt should be committed. And he who says thisin the Colloquies, adds that he hates fishes not otherwise than he doesa 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. Ifone who is thus affected with regard to fishes, should be forbidden tofeed on flesh and milk-food, will he not be hardly treated? Is itpossible 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 anyconstitution of Popes and Bishops involves liability to the punishmentof hell, the condition of Christians is hard indeed. If some impose theliability, others not; no one will better declare his intention than thePope himself. And it would conduce to the peace of consciences to haveit declared. What if some Pope should decree that priests should gogirt; would it be probable that he declared this with the intention thatif one because of renal suffering should lay aside the girdle, he shouldbe liable to hell? I think not. St. Gregory laid down, That if any onehad had intercourse with his wife by night, he should abstain the nextday from entering church: in this case, supposing that a man, concealingthe fact of intercourse having taken place, should have gone to churchfor 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 soharsh. If a man with a sick wife should live on meat, because otherwiseshe could not be provoked to eat, and her health required food, surelythe 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 referredto, and no positive statement is made. And certainly before the ImperialEdict, men were at liberty to enquire concerning these matters. 

In point of fact, neither in that place nor elsewhere do I absolutelycondemn the _Indulgences_ of the Popes, although hitherto more thansufficient indulgence has been shown them. It is simply that a speakerridicules his comrade, who, although in other respects the mostfrivolous of triflers (for so he is depicted), yet believed that by theprotection of a Bull he would get safely to heaven. So far from thinkingthis to be heretical, I should imagine there was no holier duty than towarn the people not to put their trust in Bulls, unless they study tochange their life and correct their evil desires. 

But _Vows_ are ridiculed in that passage. Yes, they are ridiculed, andthose (of whom there is a vast multitude) are admonished, who, leavingwife and children at home, under a vow made in their cups, run off alongwith a few pot-companions to Rome, Compostella, or Jerusalem. But, asmanners now are, I think it a holier work to dissuade men altogetherfrom such Vows than to urge to the making of them. 

These, forsooth, are the execrable heresies which yonder Lynceusdescries in the Puerile Colloquy. I wonder why he does not also give myCatunculus and the Publian mimes[D] a dusting. Who does not perceivethat these attacks proceed from some private grudge? Yet in nothing haveI done him an injury, except that I have favoured good literature, whichhe hates more than sin; and knows not why. Meantime he boasts that hetoo has a weapon, by which he may take his revenge. If a man at a feastcalls him Choroebus or a drunkard, he in his turn will in the pulpit cryheretic, or forger, or schismatic upon him. I believe, if the cook wereto set burnt meat on the dinner-table, he would next day bawl out in thecourse of his sermon that she was suspected of heresy. Nor is heashamed, 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 familiarprose dramas. A collection of apophthegms from his works is said to havebeen used as a school-book in Jerome's days. ]

In the first place what a foolish, what a mad blather he made against myrevised New Testament! Next, what could be more like madness than thatremark which he threw out against J. Faber and myself, when the veryfacts bespoke that he did not understand what agreement there wasbetween me and Faber, or what was the subject of controversy! What moreshameless than his fixing a charge of forgery and heresy in the courseof a public address on me, because I rendered according to the Greek:Omnes quidem non resurgemus, sed omnes immutabimur ("We shall not allrise again, but we shall all be changed. ") What more like a ragingmadman, then his warning the people at Mechlin, in a public address, tobeware of the heresy of Luther and Erasmus! Why should I now recall theravings that he belches out rather than utters in the midst of his highfeasting as often as his zeal for the house of the Lord is inflamed fromhis cups? He lately said in Holland, that I was set down for a forgeramong the divines of Louvain. (One who was present and heard it wrote tome. ) When asked, Why? Because, says he, he so often corrects the NewTestament! What a dolt of a tongue! Jerome so often corrected thePsalter: is he therefore a forger? In short if he is a forger, whoeither rashly or from ignorance translates anything otherwise than itshould be, he was a forger, whose translation we use at the present dayin the Church. But what good does this sort of behavior do him? All menlaugh at him as a Morychus, [E] shun him as a crackbrain, --get out ofhis way as a peevish fellow you can do nothing with. Nor can they thinkill of him, of whom he says such spiteful things. And though hedispleases 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 raginginsolence of tongue should rave at whomsoever he pleases. Thus does thiswise and weighty man support the interests of the orthodox faith. Thisis not a zeal of God, to hurt the harmless; but it is a rage of thedevil. The Jewish zeal of Phinehas was once extolled, but not that itmight pass as a pattern with Christians. And yet Phinehas openly slewimpious persons. To your colleague whatever he hates is Lutheran andheretical. In the same way, I suppose, he will call small-beer, flatwine, and tasteless broth, Lutheran. And the Greek tongue, which is his_unique_ aversion, --I suppose for this reason, that the Apostlesdignified it with so great an honour as to write in no other, --will becalled 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 ismade a laughing-stock in my writings. The fact is, he offers himself asan object of ridicule to all men of education and sense; and thiswithout 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 isit fair to consider the accountable person, he who rightly repels whathe ought not to acknowledge, or he who injuriously sets it afoot? If aman 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 _thewhole of Luther is in my books_, that on all sides they swarm withheretical errors. But when those who read my writings find nothing ofthe kind, even if ignorant of dialectics, they readily infer the trueconclusion. He has authority from the Emperor. Let him therefore conducthimself in the spirit of the Emperor, who would rather that wrong-doersshould be cured than punished, and certainly does not desire that theharmless should be injured. He has entrusted this function to a man hedid not know; when he shall have ascertained the fellow's character, hewill doubtless recall what he has entrusted. It is not the dispositionof the mildest of Emperors, nor of the most upright of Popes, that thosewho spend their night-watches in studying how to adorn and assist theState, should be exposed to the spite of such men; even although therewere some human infirmity in the case. So far are they from desiring toestrange good and honest men, and force them to take a different side. 

These matters are more your concern than mine. For this man's mannersinvite much discredit upon your order, while the mass of the peoplejudge of you all by this one sample. Unjustly so, I admit; but so theworld wags. And the harshness of your brother estranges no small numberfrom the study of divinity. I know that the man is utterly disliked byyou, with the exception of two or three boon companions, and one oldhand, who abuses the man's folly in the interests of his own lusts. Butall would definitely understand that you disapprove of him, if, since hecannot be restrained, you were to expel him from your table. I well knowsuch a step will be very difficult to take. For men of his stamp arereluctantly torn away from the smell of stated, sumptuous, and freerepasts. Nevertheless this concerns the honour of your Order, towardswhich 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 tomy Author, and the second to myself, or the Reasons why I have attemptedthis Translation of him. And in speaking of the first, I presume I shallsave 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 hisCommendation; yet since I have taken upon me to make him an_English-man, _give me Leave to say, that in my Opinion, he as welldeserves this Naturalization, as any modern Foreigner whose Works arein_ 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 befound in them, but Things that savour of Puerility, written indeedingeniously, and in elegant_ Latin. _For this Book contains, besidesthose, Things of a far greater Concern; and indeed, there is scarce anyThing wanting in them, fit to be taught to a_ Christian _Youth design'dfor liberal Studies. 

The Principles of Faith are not only plainly and clearly laid down, butestablish'd upon their own firm and genuine Basis. The Rules of Piety, Justice, Charity, Purity, Meekness, Brotherly Concord, the Subjectiondue to Superiors, are so treated of, that, in a Word, scarce any Thingis omitted that belongs to a Man, a Subject, or a Christian. 

Neither are those Things omitted, which respect a Medium of Life, bywhich every one may chuse out safely what Ratio of Life he has most Mindto, and by which he may be taught, not only Civility and Courtesy, butalso may know how to behave himself in the World, so as to gain himselfthe good Will of many, and, a good Name among all, and may be able todiscern the Follies and Childishnesses of Fools, and the Frauds andVillanies of Knaves, so as to guard against 'em all. 

And neither are there wanting Sketches, and that ample ones too, ofPoetical Story, or Pagan Theology, universal History, sacred andprofane, Poetry, Criticism, Logick, Natural and Moral Philosophy, Oeconomics and Politics; to which are added, a good Number of Proverbsand Apothegms used by the most celebrated of the Antients. 

But there is one Thing in an especial Manner, that should recommend thisBook to all_ Protestants _in general, and cause them to recommend it tobe read by their Children, that there is no Book fitter for them toread, which does in so delightful and instructing a Manner utterlyoverthrow almost all the Popish Opinions and Superstitions, and erect intheir Stead, a Superstructure of Opinions that are purely Protestant. 

And notwithstanding whatsoever_ Erasmus _hath said in his Apologyconcerning the Utility of his Colloquies, that he could say withModesty, according to his wonted Dexterity, to temper, and alleviate theBitterness of the Wormwood that he gave the_ Papists _to drink in theColloquies, it is past a Question, that he lays down a great many Thingsagreeable to the_ Protestant _Hypothesis, so that (if you exceptTransubstantiation) 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 itwill plainly appear, that the Scripture was in all Things preferr'd bythe Author before them all; and that he accounted that alone trulyinfallible, and of irrefragable Authority, and did not account theCouncils, Popes or Bishops so. 

And as to the praying to Saints, it was his Opinion, the christian Worldwould be well enough without it, and that he abhor'd that common Customof asking unworthy Things of them, and flying to them for Refuge morethan to the Father and Christ. 

That he look'd upon all external Things of very small Account, ofwhatsoever Species they were: Either the Choice of Meats, Processions, Stations, and innumerable other Ordinances and Ceremonies, and that theywere in themselves unprofitable, although he, for the sake of Peace andOrder, did conform himself to all harmless Things that publick Authorityhad appointed. Not judging those Persons, who out of a Scrupulousnessof Conscience thought otherwise, but wishing that those in Authoritywould use their Power with more Mildness. 

And that he esteem'd, as Trifles and Frauds, the Community of goodWorks, of all Men whatsoever, or in any Society whatsoever; that heabhor'd the Sale of Pardons for Sins, and derided the Treasury ofIndulgences, from whence it is a plain Inference, that he believ'dnothing of Purgatory. 

And that he more than doubted, whether auricular Confession wasinstituted by Christ or the Apostles; and he plainly condemnsAbsolution, and laugh'd at the giving it in an unknown Tongue. Fromwhence we may fairly infer, that he was against having the Liturgy(which ought to be read to Edification) in an unknown Tongue. But heeither thought it not safe, or not convenient, or at least notabsolutely necessary to speak his Mind plainly as to that Matter. 

Likewise, he particularly laugh'd at all the Species of popular andmonastical Piety; such as Prayers repeated over and over, without theMind, but recited by a certain Number with their_ Rosaries, _and_Ave-Maria's, _by which, God being neglected, they expected to obtain allThings, though none were particularly nam'd: Their_ tricenary, _and_anniversary Masses, _nay, and all those for the Dead: The dying andbeing buried in a_ Franciscan's _and_ Dominican's _Garment or Cowl, andall the Trumpery belonging to it; and did, in a manner condemn all Sortsof 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 avain 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 andCustom 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 aPerson as_ Erasmus, _may be, and how much they may conduce to theextirpating those Seeds of Popery, that may have been unhappily sown, ormay be subtilly instill'd into the Minds of uncautious Persons, underthe specious Shew of Sanctity, will, I presume, easily appear. Tho' theThings before-mention'd may be Reason sufficient for the turning theseColloquies of_ Erasmus _into_ English, _that so useful a Treatise maynot be a Book seal'd, either to Persons not at all, or not enoughacquainted with the_ Latin _tongue, as to read them with Edification;yet I did it from another Motive, _ i. E. _the Benefit of such as havingbeen 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 withthe Original, they may be thereby assisted, to more perfectlyunderstand, 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, asmight in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original, endeavouring to avoid running into a Paraphrase: But keeping as close tothe 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 formerlydone some select Colloquies, and Mr. _ H. M. _many years since hastranslated the whole; but the former being rather Paraphrases thanTranslations, are not so capable of affording the Assistancebefore-mention'd; and as to the latter, besides that his Version isgrown very scarce, the Style is not only antient, but too flat for sopleasant and facetious an Author as_ Erasmus _is_. 

_I do not pretend to have come up in my_ English, _to that Life andBeauty 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 butan_ English Erasmus _himself_, i. E. _one that had the same Felicity ofExpression that he had; but I hope it will appear that I have kept myAuthor 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; butsubscribe my self, yours to serve you_, _Jan. 25th_, N. BAILEY. 1724-5. 

_The_ LIFE _of_ ERASMUS. 

_DESIDERIUS Erasmus_, surnamed _Roterodamus_, was born at _Roterdam_, aTown of _Holland_, on the Vigil of _Simon and Jude_, or _October_ the20th or 28th, 1465, according to his Epitaph at _Basil_; or according tothe Account of his life, _Erasmo Auctore, circa annum, &c. _ about theYear 1467, which agrees with the Inscription of his Statue at_Roterdam_, which being the Place of his Nativity, may be suppos'd to bethe most authentick. His Mother's Name was _Margaret_, the Daughter ofone _Peter_, a Physician of _Sevenbergen_. His Father's Name was_Gerard_, who carried on a private Correspondence with her, upon Promiseof Marriage; and as it should seem from the Life which has _Erasmus's_Name before it, was actually contracted to her, which seems plainly tobe 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 pleasantPassage concerning him: _If one may be allow'd to droll upon a Man, thatdroll'd upon all the World_, Erasmus, _tho' he was not the Son of aKing, yet he was the Son of a crown'd Head_, meaning a Priest. But inthis he appears to have been mistaken, in that his Father was not inOrders 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'dAge; _Catherine_ living to the Age of 95. _Gerard_ had nine Brethren bythe same Father and Mother, without one Sister coming between them; hehimself was the youngest of the ten, and liv'd to see two of hisBrothers at _Dort_ in _Holland_, near 90 Years of Age each. All hisBrothers were married but himself; and according to the Superstition ofthose Times, the old People had a mind to consecrate him to God, being atenth Child, and his Brothers lik'd the Motion well enough, because bythat Means they thought they should have a sure Friend, where they mighteat and drink, and be merry upon Occasion. They being all very pressingupon him to turn Ecclesiastick, (which was a Course of Life that he hadno Inclination to, ) _Gerard_ finding himself beset on all Sides, and bytheir universal Consent excluded from Matrimony, resolving not to beprevail'd upon by any Importunities, as desperate Persons do, fled fromthem, and left a Letter for his Parents and Brothers upon the Road, acquainting them with the Reason of his Elopement, bidding them aneternal Farewell, telling them he would never see them more. Heprosecuted his Journey to _Rome_, leaving _Margaret_, his Spouse thatwas 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 ofthat Sort of Business to do (for as the Life that is said to be _ErasmoAuctore_ has it, _tum nondum ars typographorum erat_, i. E. _The Art ofPrinting was not then found out_; which was a Mistake, for it had beenfound out twenty-four Years before, in the Year 1442. But perhaps theMeaning may be, tho' it was found out, it was not then commonly used) hegot 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 hisStudies, made a considerable Progress in the _Latin_ and _Greek_Tongues, which was very much facilitated by his Employment oftranscribing Authors, which could not but strongly impress them on hisMemory; and he had also another great Advantage, in that a great manylearned Men then flourish'd at _Rome_ and he heard particularly one_Guarinus_. But to return to _Erasmus_, his Mother _Margaret_ beingdelivered of him, he was after his Father called _Gerard_, which in the_German_ Tongue, signifies _Amiable_; and as it was the Custom amonglearned 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 thesame Signification. He was at first brought up by his Grandmother, till_Gerard's_ Parents coming to the Knowledge that he was at _Rome_, wroteto him, sending him Word, that the young Gentlewoman whom he courted fora Wife was dead; which he giving Credit to, in a melancholy Fit, tookOrders, being made a Presbyter, and apply'd his Mind seriously to theStudy of Religion. But upon his Return into his own Country, he foundthat they had impos'd upon him. Having taken Orders, it was too late tothink of Marriage; he therefore quitted all further Pretensions to her, nor would she after this, be induced to marry. _Gerard_ took Care tohave his Son _Erasmus_ liberally educated, and put him to School when hewas scarce four Years old. (They have in _Holland_, an ill-groundedTradition; that _Erasmus_, when he was young, was a dull Boy, and slowat 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_, hisMother also going thither to take Care of him. That School was butbarbarous, the most that was minded, was _Matins_, Even-Song, &c. Till_Alexander Hegius_ of _Westphalia_, and _Zinthius_, began to introducesomething of better Literature. (This _Alexander Hegius_, was anintimate Friend to the learned _Rodolphus Agricola_, who was the firstthat brought the _Greek_ Tongue over the Mountains of _Germany_, and wasnewly returned out of _Italy_, having learned the _Greek_ Tongue ofhim. ) _Erasmus_ took his first Taste of solid Learning from some of hisPlayfellows, who being older than himself, were under the Instruction of_Zinthius_: And afterwards he sometimes heard _Hegius_; but that wasonly upon holy Days, on which he read publickly, and so rose to be inthe third Class, and made a very good Proficiency: He is said to havehad 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 thirteenYears of Age; which Contagion increasing more and more every Day, havingswept away the whole Family where he boarded, he returned Home. HisFather _Gerard_ hearing of the Death of his Wife, was so concern'd atit, 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 hisSon _Erasmus_ three Guardians, whom he esteem'd as trusty Friends, thePrincipal of whom was _Peter Winkel_, the Schoolmaster of _Goude_. TheSubstance that he left for his Education, had been sufficient for thatPurpose, if his Guardians had discharg'd their Trust faithfully. By themhe was remov'd to _Boisleduc_, tho' he was at that Time fit to have goneto the University. But the Trustees were against sending him to theUniversity, because they had design'd him for a Monastick Life. Here heliv'd (or, as he himself says, rather lost three Years) in a_Franciscan_ Convent, where one _Rombold_ taught Humanity, who wasexceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Youth, and began tosollicit him to take the Habit upon him, and become one of their Order. _Erasmus_ excused himself, alledging the Rawness and Unexperiencednessof his Age. The Plague spreading in these Parts, and after he hadstruggled a whole Year with an Ague, he went Home to his Guardians, having by this Time furnished himself with an indifferent good Style, bydaily reading the best Authors. One of his Guardians was carried off bythe Plague; the other two not having manag'd his Fortune with thegreatest Care, began to contrive how they might fix him in someMonastery. _Erasmus_ still languishing under this Indisposition, tho' hehad no Aversion to the Severities of a pious Life, yet he had anAversion for a Monastery, and therefore desired Time to consider of theMatter. 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 notcomply, to bring him over. In this Interim they found out a Place forhim in _Sion_, a College of Canons Regulars near _Delft_, which was theprincipal House belonging to that Chapter. When the Day came that_Erasmus_ was to give his final Answer, he fairly told them, he neitherknew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet, what himselfwas, and that he thought it more advisable for him to pass a few Yearsmore 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 Purposeindeed, who had by earnest Sollicitations, provided a good Prefermentfor an obstinate Boy, that did not understand his own Interest: Andhaving given him some hard Words, told him, that from that Time he threwup his Guardianship, and now he might look to himself. _Erasmus_presently reply'd, that he took him at his first Word; that he was nowof 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 dowith him: Thus was _Erasmus_ surrounded by them and their Agents on allHands. He had also a Companion that was treacherous to him, and his oldCompanion his Ague stuck close to him; but all these would not make amonastick Life go down with him; till at last, by meer Accident, hewent 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 hisChamber-fellow at _Daventer_. He had not yet taken the Habit, but hadtravelled to _Italy_, and came back without making any greatImprovements in Learning. This _Cornelius_, with all the Eloquence hewas Master of, was continually setting out the Advantages of a religiousLife, the Conveniency of noble Libraries, Retirement from the Hurry ofthe World, and heavenly Company, and the like. Some intic'd him on oneHand, others urg'd him on the other, his Ague stuck close to him, sothat at last he was induc'd to pitch upon this Convent. And after hisAdmission he was fed up with great Promises to engage him to take uponhim the holy Cloth. Altho' he was but young, he soon perceived howvastly 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 hisown Modesty, the ill Usage he was treated with, and the Necessities ofhis Circumstances, overcame him, so that he did profess himself. Notlong after this, by the means of _Gulielmus Hermannus_ of _Buda_, hisintimate Associate, he had the Honour to be known to _Henry a Bergis_Bishop of _Cambray_, who was then in Hopes of obtaining a Cardinal'sHat, which he had obtained, had not Money been wanting: In order tosollicit this Affair for him, he had Occasion for one that was Master ofthe _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, butstill wore the Habit of his Order: But the Bishop, disappointed in hisHope of wearing the Cardinal's Hat, _Erasmus_ finding his Patron fickleand wavering in his Affections, prevail'd with him to send him to_Paris_, to prosecute his Studies there. He did so, and promised him ayearly Allowance, but it was never paid him, according to the Custom ofgreat Men. He was admitted of _Montague_ College there, but by Reason ofill Diet and a damp Chamber, he contracted an Indisposition of Body, upon which he return'd to the Bishop, who entertain'd him againcourteously and honourably: Having recover'd his Health, he return'dinto _Holland_, with a Design to settle there; but being again invited, he went back to _Paris_. But having no Patron to support him, he rathermade 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 thePlague returning there periodically for many Years, he was obliged everyYear to return into his own Country. At length it raging all the Yearlong, he retir'd to _Louvain_. 

After this he visited _England_, going along with a young Gentleman, towhom he was Tutor, who, as he says himself, was rather his Friend thanhis Patron. In _England_ he was received with universal Respect; and, ashe tells us himself in his Life, he won the Affections of all good Menin our Island. During his Residence here, he was intimately acquaintedwith _Sir Thomas More_, _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_, _John Colet_, Dean of St. _Pauls_, the Founder of St. _Paul's School_, aMan remarkable for the Regularity of his Life, great Learning andMagnificence; with _Hugh Latimer_ Bishop of _Winchester_, _Linacre_, _Grocinus_, and many other honourable and learned Persons, and passedsome Years at _Cambridge_, and is said to have taught there; but whetherthis was after his first or second Time of visiting _England_, I do notdetermine: However, not meeting with the Preferment he expected, he wentaway 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 learnedMen, 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 hehad; 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 inPraise of the King and Country; which Piece of Generosity gained him nosmall 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 Anglostriumphant bonæ Literæ recta Studia_; and in _Epist. 12. Lib. 16_. Hemakes no Scruple to equal it to _Italy_ itself; and _Epist. 26. Lib. 6. _commends the _English_ Nobility for their great Application to alluseful Learning, and entertaining themselves at Table with learnedDiscourses, when the Table-Talk of Churchmen was nothing but Ribaldryand Profaneness. In _Epist_. 10. _Lib_. 5, which he addresses to_Andrelinus_, he invites him to come into _England_, recommending it asworth his While, were it upon no other Account, than to see the charmingBeauties with which this Island abounded; and in a very pleasant Mannerdescribes to him the Complaisance and innocent Freedom of the _English_Ladies, telling him, that when he came into a Gentleman's House he wasallowed 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 noReflections upon the Virtue of _English_ Women. But to return to him; asto his Voyage to _Italy_, he prosecuted his Journey to _Turin_, and tookthe Degree of Doctor of Divinity in that University; he dwelt a wholeyear 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 theHabit of Priest; and after that went to _Venice_, where was thePrinting-House of the famous _Manutius Aldus_, and there he publishedhis Book of _Adagies_, and staying some Time there, wrote severalTreatises, and had the Conversation of many eminent and learned Men. From thence he went to _Padua_, where at that Time _Alexander_ the Sonof _James_ King of _Scotland_, and Bishop of St. _Andrews_ in_Scotland_, studied, who chose _Erasmus_ for his Tutor in Rhetorick, andwent to _Seana_, and thence to _Rome_, where his great Merits had madehis Presence expected long before. At _Rome_ he gained the Friendshipand Esteem of the most considerable Persons in the City, was offered theDignity of a Penitentiary, if he would have remained there: But hereturned back to the Archbishop, and not long after went with him againto _Italy_, and travelling farther into the Country, went to _Cuma_, andvisited the Cave of _Sybilla_. After the Death of the Archbishop hebegan 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 ofEngland, his Friends here, with many Invitations and great Promises, prevailed upon him to come over to _England_ again, where it was hisPurpose to have settled for the remaining Part of his Life, had he foundThings according to the Expectation they had given him: But how it cameabout is uncertain, whether _Erasmus_ was wanting in making his Courtaright to Cardinal _Wolsey_, who at that Time manag'd all Things at hisPleasure; or, whether it were that the Cardinal look'd with a jealousEye upon him, because of his intimate Friendship with _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_, who had taken him into his Favour, betweenwhom and _Wolsey_ there was continual Clashing, (the Cardinal after hehad been made the Pope's Legate, pretending a Power in theArchbishoprick of _Canterbury_. ) On this Disappointment he left_England_, and went to _Flanders_; Archbishop _Warham_ had indeed shewedhis Esteem for him, in giving him the Living of _Aldington_. In short, _Erasmus_ takes Notice of the Friendship between himself and _Warham_ inthe _Colloquy_ called, _The Religious Pilgrimage_. 

As to his Familiarity with Sir _Thomas More_, there are several Storiesrelated, and especially one concerning the Disputes that had beenbetween them about _Transubstantiation_, or the _real Presence_ ofChrist in the consecrated Wafer, of which Sir _Thomas_ was a strenuousMaintainer, and _Erasmus_ an Opponent; of which, when _Erasmus_ saw hewas too strongly byassed to be convinced by Arguments, he at last madeuse of the following facetious Retortion on him. It seems in theirDisputes concerning the real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, whichwere in _Latin_, Sir _Thomas_ had frequently used this Expression, andlaid the Stress of his Proof upon the Force of Believing, _Crede quodedis et edis_, _i. E. _ Believe you eat [Christ] and you do eat him;therefore _Erasmus_ answers him, _Crede quod habes et habes, Believethat you have_ [_your Horse_] _and you have him_. It seems, at_Erasmus's_ going away, Sir _Thomas_ had lent him his Horse to carry himto the Sea-side or _Dover_; but he either carried him with him over Seato _Holland_, or sent him not back to Sir _Thomas_, at least for someTime; 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_ Chancellorto _Charles of Austria_, afterwards Emperor of _Germany_, known by thename of _Charles_ V: he was made one of his Counsellors. 

In the mean Time _Johannes Frobenius_, a famous Printer, having printedmany of his Works at _Basil_ in _Switzerland_, and being much taken withthe Elegancy of his Printing, and the Neatness of his Edition, he wentthither, pretending that he undertook that Journey for the Performanceof some Vow he had made; he was kindly entertain'd by him, and publish'dseveral Books there, and dedicated this his Book of Colloquies to_Frobenius's_ Son, and resided till the Mass had been put down there bythe Reformers. When he left that Place, he retir'd to _Friburg_ in_Alsace_. Before his going to _Friburg_, he visited the low Countries tosettle certain Affairs there. And was at _Cologn_ at the Time that theAssembly was at _Worms_, which being dissolv'd, he went again to_Basil_, either, as some say, for the Recovery of his Health, or, asothers, for the publishing of several Books. He receiv'd the Bounty andMunificence of several Kings, Princes, and Popes, and was honourablyentertain'd by many of the chief Cities which he pass'd through. And byhis 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 studiousand 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 hisAdvice to erect the like College there. But certain Affairs happening, his Journey thither was hindred. He went to _Friburg_ in _Alsace_, wherehe bought him an House, and liv'd seven Years in great Esteem andReputation, both with the chief Magistrates and Citizens of the Place, and all Persons of any Note in the University. But his Distemper, whichwas the Gout, coming rudely upon him, he, thinking the Change of Airwould afford him Relief, sold his House, and went again to _Basil_, tothe House of _Frobenius_; but he had not been there above nine Monthsbefore his Gout violently assaulted him, and his strength havinggradually decay'd, he was seized with a Dysentery, under which havinglaboured for a Month, it at last overcame him, and he died at the Houseof _Jerome Frobenius_, the son of _John_ the famous Printer, the 12thof _July_ 1536, about Midnight, being about seventy Years of Age: Afterhis last retreat to _Basil_, he went seldom abroad; and for some of thelast 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 ofRosaries, Crosses, Confession, Absolution, or receiving thetransubstantiated Wafer, and in one Word, not desiring to have any ofthe _Romish_ Superstitions administered, but according to the true Tenorof the Gospel, taking Sanctuary in nothing but the Mercies of God inChrist. And finding himself near Death, he gave many Testimonies ofPiety and Christian Hope in God's Mercy, and oftentimes cry'd out in the_German_ Language, _Liever Godt_, _i. E. _ dear God; often repeating, OJesus have Mercy on me! O Lord, deliver me! Lord, put an End to myMisery! 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 tocharitable Uses; as for the Maintenance of such as were poor anddisabled through Age or Sickness; for the Marrying of poor youngVirgins, to keep them from Temptations to Unchastity; for themaintaining hopeful Students in the University, and such like charitableUses. In the overseeing of his Will, he join'd with _Amerbachius_, twoothers, _Jerome Frobenius_, and _Nicholas Episcopius_, who were hisintimate Friends, and whom a certain Author says, had then espoused theReformation began by _Luther_ and other Reformers. The city of _Basil_still pays _Erasmus_ the Respect which is due to the Memory of soeminent a Person; they not only call'd one of the Colleges there afterhis Name, but shew the House where he died to Strangers, with as muchVeneration 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_ genuinePieces, which they shew at _Basil_: As to his Colloquies and _MoriaEncomium_, they have seen more Editions than any other of his Works; and_Moreri_ says, that a Bookseller at _Paris_, who thoroughly understoodhis Trade, sold twenty four thousand of them at one Impression, bygetting it whisper'd to his Customers, that the Book was prohibited, andwould suddenly be call'd in. 

He was buried at _Basil_, in the Cathedral Church, on the left Side nearthe Choir, in a Marble Tomb; on the fore Side of which was thisInscription:

 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 whichstands the Effigies of the Deity of _Terminus_, which _Erasmus_ chosefor the Impress of his Seal, and on the Front of that Base is thisInscription. 

 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, waserected in the Market-place at _Roterdam_; and in the Year 1557, a Stoneone 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 itsLiberty it was restored again. But in the Year 1622, instead of it, avery compleat one of Brass eight Foot high with the Pedestal, waserected, which is now standing on the Bridge at _Roterdam_, and likelylong 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 Housewhere _Erasmus_ was born, formerly was this Inscription. 

 _Hæc est parva Domus, magnus quâ natus_ Erasmus. 

The same House being rebuilt and enlarged, has the followingInscription. 

 _Ædibus his ortus Mundum decoravit_ Erasmus, _Artibus ingenuis, Religione, Fide_. 

As for his Stature, he was neither very low nor very tall, his Body wellset, proportioned and handsome, neither fat nor lean, but of a nice andtender Constitution, and easily put out of Order with the leastDeviation from his ordinary Way of Living; he had from his Childhood sogreat an Aversion to eating of Fish, that he never attempted it withoutthe Danger of his Life, and therefore obtain'd a Dispensation from thePope from eating Fish in _Lent_, as appears by the Story of _Eras_, (ashe stiles himself) in the Colloquy call'd _Ichthyophagia_. He was of afair and pale Complexion, had a high Forehead, his Hair, in his youngerYears, inclining to yellow, his Nose pretty long, a little thick at theEnd, his Mouth something large, but not ill made, his Eyes grey butlively, his Countenance chearful and pleasant, his Voice small, butmusical, his Speech distinct and plain, pleasant and jocose, his Gaitehandsome and grave; he had a, most happy Memory and acute Wit, he wasvery constant to his Friend, and exceeding liberal to those that wereunder Necessity, especially to studious and hopeful Youths, and to suchas were destitute in their Journey: In his Conversation he was verypleasant and affable, free from peevish and morose Humours, but verywitty 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 popularTradition, _Antichrist_ was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, theWorld was in a fair Way now to have a Litter of Antichrists. 

I shall conclude with the Character given of _Erasmus_ by Mr. _ThomasBrown_, 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 thatSuccess, that it is difficult to say which of the two was the Original. 

That both of them had an equal Aversion to austere, sullen, designingKnaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever. That both ofthem were Men of Wit and Satyr, but that _Erasmus_, according to theGenius 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 ofReligion, and Morality was debauch'd by a Set of sowr Scoundrels, Men ofBeard and Grimace, but scandalously lewd and ignorant, who yet had theImpudence to preach up Virtue, and stile themselves Philosophers, perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of theirseveral Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if it ispossible, about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in adifferent Way, to dupe and amuse the poor People by the fantastickSingularity of their Habits, the unintelligible Jargon of their Schools, and their Pretentions to a severe and mortified Life. This motly Herd ofJugglers _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 theWorld, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from theformer in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in themain, the same individual Imposters; the same everlastingCobweb-Spinners as to their nonsensical Controversies, the sameabandon'd Rakehells as to their Morals; but as for the mysterious Artsof heaping up Wealth, and picking the Peoples Pockets, as much superiorto their Predecessors the _Pagan_ Philosophers, as an overgrownFavourite that cheats a whole Kingdom, is to a common Malefactor. 

These were the sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices _Erasmus_ hasso effectually lash'd, that some Countries have entirely turn'd theseDrones out of their Cells, and in other Places where they are stillkept, they are grown contemptible to the highest Degree, and oblig'd tobe 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 Salutefreely. For a courteous and kind Salutation oftentimes engagesFriendship, and reconciles Persons at Variance, and does undoubtedlynourish and increase a mutual Benevolence. There are indeed some Personsthat are such Churls, and of so clownish a Disposition, that if yousalute them, they will scarcely salute you again. But this Vice is insome Persons rather the Effect of their Education, than their naturalDisposition. 

It is a Piece of Civility to salute those that come in your Way; eithersuch as come to us, or those that we go to speak with. And in likeManner such as are about any Sort of Work, either at Supper, or thatyawn, or hiccop, or sneeze, or cough. But it is the Part of a Man thatis civil even to an Extreme, to salute one that belches, or breaks Windbackward. But he is uncivilly civil that salutes one that is makingWater, 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 yousweet Cousin. 

It is courteous to make Use of a Title of Relation or Affinity, unlesswhen it carries something of a Reflection along with it, then indeed itis better not to use such Titles, tho' proper; but rather some that aremore 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'sWife, Sister: And the same we should do in Titles, either of Age orOffice. For it will be more acceptable to salute an antient Man by theName of Father, or venerable Sir, than by the Sirname of Age; altho' inantient Times they used to make use of [Greek: hô geron], as anhonourable Title. God save you Lieutenant, God save you Captain; but notGod save you Hosier or Shoe-maker. God save you Youth, or young Man. OldMen salute young Men that are Strangers to them by the Name of Sons, andyoung 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, mySweet-heart, my Honey, my only Pleasure, my little Heart, my Hope, myComfort, 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 blessyou again and again thou Glory of Learning. God save you heartily myvery 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 Delightof _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 shallhear 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 toenjoy 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 theVulgar, 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 aChristian Salutation, borrow'd from the _Jews_: but yet not to berejected. 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 Fatherof a fine Child. May the Virgin Mother make you a happy Mother. I wishthat this swell'd Belly may asswage happily. Heaven grant that thisBurthen you carry, whatsoever it is, may have as easy an out-coming asit 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 allHappiness 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 yourHealth. 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 aregoing about be an universal Good. God prosper what you are about. Godbless your Labours. God bless your Endeavours. I pray that by God'sAssistance you may happily finish what you have begun. May Christ inHeaven prosper what is under your Hand. May what you have begun endhappily. May what you are set about end happily. You are about a goodWork, I wish you a good End of it, and that propitious Heaven may favouryour pious Undertakings. Christ give Prosperity to your Enterprise. Maywhat you have undertaken prosper. I heartily beg of Almighty God thatthis Design may be as successful as it is honourable. May the Affair sohappily 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 shortTime have the Opportunity of congratulating you upon your happy Return. May it be your good Fortune to make a good Voyage thither and backagain. May your Journey be pleasant, but your Return more pleasant. Iwish this Journey may succeed according to your Heart's Desire. I wishthis Journey may be as pleasant to you, as the want of your good Companyin the mean Time will be troublesome to us. May you set Sail withpromising Presages. I wish this Journey may succeed according to bothour Wishes. I wish this Bargain may be for the Good and Advantage of usboth. I wish this may be a happy Match to us all. The blessed Jesus Godkeep thee. Kind Heaven return you safe. God keep thee who art one Halfof my Life. I wish you a safe Return. I wish that this New-Year maybegin happily, go on more happily, and end most happily to you, andthat 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 wellto me _gratis_. 

_Sal. _ I wish you a glorious Day to Day. May this Sun-rising be a happyone to you. 

_Ans. _ I wish you the same. May this be a happy and a prosperous Morningto 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 withoutdreaming. God send you may either sleep sweetly or dream pleasantly. Agood Night to you. 

_Ans. _ Since you always love to be on the getting Hand, I wish you athousand Happinesses to one you wish to me. 

 * * * * *

_Farewell at parting. _

Fare ye all well. Farewell. Take care of your Health. Take a great Careof your Health. I bid you good by, Time calls me away, fare ye well. Iwish you as well as may be. Farewell mightily, or if you had rather haveit so, lustily. Fare you well as you are worthy. Fare you as well as youdeserve. Farewell for these two Days. If you send me away, farewell tillto-morrow. Would you have any Thing with me? Have you any Thing else tosay to me?

_Ans. _ Nothing but to wish you well. 

_Sal. _ Take Care to preserve your Health. Take Care of your Health. Lookwell to your Health. See that at the next Meeting we see you merry andhearty. I charge you make much of your self. See that you have a soundMind in a healthful Body. Take Care you be universally well both in Bodyand Mind. 

_Ans. _ I'll promise you I will do my Endeavour. Fare you well also; andI again wish you prosperous Health. 

_Of saluting by another. _

Remember my hearty Love to _Frobenius_. Be sure to remember my Love tolittle _Erasmus_. Remember me to _Gertrude's_ Mother with all imaginableRespect; tell them I wish 'em all well. Remember me to my oldCompanions. Remember me to my Friends. Give my Love to my Wife. Rememberme to your Brother in your Letter. Remember my Love to my Kinsman. Haveyou 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 myFriends to me, carry back again with much Interest. Carry my heartyService to all them that have sent their Service to me. Pray do so muchas be my Representative in saluting my Friends. I would have written tomy 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 isit?

_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 carrythem with Ease. 

_Sal. _ And that you may not do that for nothing, I pray that Health maybe 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 comeHome safe. It is a Pleasure to us that you are come well Home. Wecongratulate your happy Return. We give God Thanks that you are comesafe Home to us. The more uneasy we were at the Want of you, the moreglad we are to see you again. We congratulate you and ourselves too thatyou are come Home to us alive and well. Your Return is the more pleasantby how much it was less expected. 

_Ans. _ I am glad too that as I am well myself I find you so. I am veryglad to find you in good Health. I should not have thought myself wellcome Home if I had not found you well; but now I think myself safe, inthat 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 maysee 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 withoutCompany. 

_Ge. _ I know well enough a Louse is a Scholar's Companion. Well but doyou bring any News from _Paris_?

_Liv. _ Ay, I do, and that in the first Place that I know you won'tbelieve. 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 wherethere are such Preachers. 

_Liv. _ Well, but it is even so as I tell you, nor do I speak only byhear 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 aDoctor? I don't ask you if you are in Health, for your Face bespeaks youso 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 forthis long Time?

_Liv. _ Sometimes better, and sometimes worse, as human Affairs commonlygo. 

_Ge. _ Are you very well in health? Are your Affairs in a goodCondition? Are your Circumstances as you would have them? Have youalways had your Health well?

_Liv. _ Very well, I thank God. By God's Goodness I have always had myHealth very well. I have always been very well hitherto. I have been invery good, favourable, secure, happy, prosperous, successful, perfectHealth, 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. Yougive 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. Iwish you may enjoy the same Health as long as you live. Incongratulating 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 wellindeed, happily, commodiously, no Way amiss. I enjoy rather what HealthI 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 amso, so. Pretty well. I am as well as I can be, since I can't be so wellas I would be. As I use to be. So as it pleases God. Truly not verywell. Never worse in all my Life. As I am wont to be. I am as they useto 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, Stateof Health, not at all as I would, a tolerable, such as I would not wisheven to my Enemies. 

_Ge. _ You tell me a melancholy Story. Heavens forbid it. God forbid. Nomore of that I pray. I wish what you say were not true. But you must beof good Chear, you must pluck up a good Heart. A good Heart is a goodHelp in bad Circumstances. You must bear up your Mind with the Hope ofbetter Fortune. What Distemper is it? What Sort of Disease is it? WhatDistemper 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. Haveyou 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 saysone 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 youbeen 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 nearthree 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 growupon 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 anonnew 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 toosevere. 

_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 thisDistemper? 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 yourselfwith 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. Ifancy I got the Distemper by eating rotten Eggs. By drinking too muchWater in my Wine. This Crudity in my Stomach came by eating greenApples. 

_Ge. _ But consider whether you han't contracted this Distemper by longand late Studying, by hard Drinking, or immoderate use of Venery? Whydon't you send for a Doctor?

_Li. _ I am afraid he should do me more Harm than good. I am afraid heshould 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 tormentedwith 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'dtheir 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 aWhore-master's Cloak. These things have no Effect upon those that haveno Faith in 'em. 

_Ge. _ Why then, believe that you may recover. Some have been cur'd bymaking 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 bepleased 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 thathe'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 toolaxative. 

 * * * * *

_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, andPart by Sea. 

_Ge. _ How go Matters in _France?_

_Li. _ All's in Confusion, there's nothing but War talk'd of. WhatMischiefs they may bring upon their Enemies I know not; but this I'msure of, the _French_ themselves are afflicted with unexpressibleCalamities. 

_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 ofhuman Affairs. 

_Li. _ Appease 'em! Ay, so they do, as the South Wind does the Sea. Theyfancy themselves to be Gods, and that the World was made for theirSakes. 

_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 anAlarm 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 yourown 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 everyThing 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 theGame 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 nothingelse. 

_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 besaid to hang, but not to live. 

_Ge. _ But however then, you were the lighter for travelling, not havingyour Pockets loaded. 

_Li. _ I confess that, nay, and safer too; for an empty Pocket is thebest Defence in the World against Thieves; but for all that, I hadrather 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 moreReason for other Folks to be afraid of me, than I of them, having nevera 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 longTime. 

_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 Iwent away?

_Ge. _ Nothing but only you'll find your Family bigger than it was; foryour _Catulla_ has brought you a little _Catulus_ since you have beengone. Your Hen has laid you an Egg. 

_Li. _ That's good News, I like your News, and I'll promise to give you aGospel 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 forWomen 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'llendeavour 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 myWife's Belly is up to her Mouth almost. 

_Li. _ Then I'll make this Bargain with you; that if she has a Boy, youwill 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 returnedtaller. 

_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 littleone 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 yourMoney, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss ofMoney. 

_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 Reputationvery hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way oranother. But how came it about?

_Cy. _ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As theDevil would have it. 

_Ma. _ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for asthey can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to himthat carries them. 

_Cy. _ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm inPerplexity. 

 * * * * *

_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 pronouncethe _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 anonit 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 everyThing 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 tothe Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War. 

_Cl. _ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divertourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have alittle 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 besome intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hastbrought?

_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 itlately, 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 alame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech growsto your Seat. 

_Jo. _ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, andif I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have keptme from going abroad. 

_Pe. _ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see howcharming 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 fineWeather. 

_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'llmake 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 theCompany 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 aGrove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams ofFountains, 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 yourBooks; 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 livepleasantly. 

_Jo. _ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study. 

_Pe. _ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself toDeath. 

_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, theoftner 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 Wifedoes 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 agreat 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 likethe best of them?

_Gi. _ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But myDaughter won't hear of marrying. 

_Le. _ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable forsome Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe forWedlock, ready for a Husband this great While. 

_Gi. _ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she'sin 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 evilGenius 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 thatcan be said to her. 

_Le. _ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle ordraw her away. 

_Gi. _ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind ofCattel as far from my House as I can. 

_Le. _ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her haveher Humour?

_Gi. _ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alterher Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against herWill, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fightagainst the Monks. 

_Le. _ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try herConstancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it istoo 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 Fatherin a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he didnothing 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 Iinterrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence?

_Dr. _ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of beingalone, and was wishing for a merry Companion. 

_Mo. _ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about someBusiness?

_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; Iwas 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 nomeans interrupt or hinder?

_Dr. _ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Deviland he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you. 

_Mo. _ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as Icame 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 Ihave been hunting after. 

_Dr. _ What Game is it?

_Mo. _ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreatyou 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 fancythat 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 notyou. 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 seeto 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 loveIntermission; you study continually. 

_Ge. _ I am never tired with Study. 

_Sy. _ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study oughtnot to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies arenot to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laidaside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomerPleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing elsebut study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books. You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but astudying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent uponyour Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You giveyourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermissionin, nor ever give over studying. 

_Ge. _ Very well! This is like you. You banter me as you use to do. Youmake a Game of me. You joke upon me. You satyrize me. You treat me witha Sneer. I see how you jeer me well enough. You only jest with me. I amyour Laughing-stock. I am laugh'd at by you. You make yourself merrywith me. You make a meer Game and Sport of me. Why don't you put me onAsses Ears too? My Books, that are all over dusty and mouldy, shew howhard a Studier I am. 

_Sy. _ Let me die if I don't speak my Mind. Let me perish if I don'tspeak 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 speaknothing 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'sthe Matter you visit me so seldom? What has happen'd to you that younever 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? Whathas hinder'd you that you have come to see me no oftner? What hasprevented you that you have never let me have the Opportunity of seeingyou 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 myBusiness. 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 meto pay my Respects to you. I have been so busy I could not come. I havebeen harass'd with so many vexatious Matters that I could not get anOpportunity. I have been so taken up with a troublesome Business that Icould never have so much Command of myself. You must impute it to myBusiness, and not to me. It was not for Want of Will, but Opportunity. Icould not get Time till now. I have had no Time till now. I never havehad any Leisure till this Time. I have been so ill I could not come. Icould not come, the Weather has been so bad. 

_Ge. _ Indeed I accept of your Excuse, but upon this Condition, that youdon't make use of it often. If Sickness has been the Occasion of yourAbsence, your Excuse is juster than I wish it had been; I'll excuse youupon 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 morefirm than to need to be supported by such vulgar Ceremonies. He visitsoften enough that loves constantly. 

_Ge. _ A Mischief take those Incumbrances that have depriv'd us of yourCompany. I can't tell what to wish for bad enough to those Affairs thathave envy'd us the Company of so good a Friend. A Mischief take thatFever that hath tormented us so long with the Want of you. I wish thatFever 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 intreatyou to take Care of this Affair. If you have any Respect for me, praymanage this Affair diligently. Pray be very careful in this Affair. Praytake a great Deal of Care about this Business for my Sake. If you areindeed the Man I always took you to be, let me see in this Concern whatEsteem you have for me. 

_Sa. _ Say no more, I'll dispatch this Affair for you, and that veryshortly too. I can't indeed warrant you what the Event shall be, butthis I promise you, that neither Fidelity nor Industry shall be wantingin 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 managethe Affair, that whatever is wanting, Care and Diligence shall not bewanting. Take you no Care about the Matter, I'll do it for you. Do yoube easy, I'll take the Management of it upon myself. I am glad to havean Opportunity put into my Hand of shewing you my Respect. I do notpromise you in Words, but I will in Reality perform whatsoever is to beexpected from a real Friend, and one that heartily wishes you well. Iwon't bring you into a Fool's Paradise. I'll do that which shall giveyou Occasion to say you trusted the Affair to a Friend. 

 * * * * *

_Success. _

_Sa. _ The Matter succeeded better than I could have expected. Fortunehas favour'd both our Wishes. If Fortune had been your Wife she couldnot have been more observant to you. Your Affair went on bravely withWind and Tide. Fortune has out-done our very Wishes. You must needs be aFavourite of Fortune, to whom all Things fall out just as you would havethem. I have obtain'd more than I could presume to wish for. ThisJourney has been perform'd from Beginning to End with all the fortunateCircumstances imaginable. The whole Affair has fallen out according toour Wish. This Chance fell out happily for us. I think we have beenlucky to Admiration, that what has been so imprudently enterpriz'd, hasso happily succeeded. 

 * * * * *

_A giving one Thanks. _

_Ja. _ Indeed I thank you, and shall thank you heartily as long as I livefor that good Service you have done me. I can scarce give you the Thanksyou deserve, and shall never be able to make you Amends. I see how muchI am oblig'd to you for your Kindness to me. Indeed I don't wonder atit, 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 Kindnessto me. In as much as in this Affair you have not acted the Part of aCourtier, I do, and always shall thank you. I respect you, and thankyou, that you made my Affair your Care. You have oblig'd me very much bythat Kindness of yours. It is a great Obligation upon me that you havemanag'd my Concern with Fidelity. Of all your Kindnesses, which areindeed a great many, you have shew'd me none has oblig'd me more thanthis. I cannot possibly make you a Return according to your Merit Toomuch Ceremony between you and I is unnecessary, but that which is in myPower I'll do. I'll be thankful as long as I live. I confess myselfhighly oblig'd to you for your good Service. For this Kindness I owe youmore than I am able to pay. By this good Office you have attach'd me toyou so firmly, that I can never be able to disengage myself. You havelaid me under so many and great Obligations, that I shall never be ableto get out of your Debt. No Slave was ever so engag'd in Duty to hisMaster as you have engag'd me by this Office. You have by this good Turnbrought me more into your Debt than ever I shall be able to pay. I amoblig'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 ofThanks to retaliate. 

 * * * * *

_The Answer. _

_Sa. _ Forbear these Compliments, the Friendship between you and I isgreater than that we should thank one another for any Service done. Ihave not bestow'd this Kindness upon you, but only made a Return of itto you. I think the Amends is sufficiently made, if my most sedulousEndeavours are acceptable to you. There is no Reason you should thank mefor repaying this small Kindness, for those uncommon Kindnesses I haveso often receiv'd from you. Indeed I merit no Praise, but should havebeen the most ungrateful Man in the World if I had been wanting to myFriend. Whatsoever I have, and whatsoever I can do, you may call asmuch your own as any Thing that you have the best Title to. I look uponit as a Favour that you take my Service kindly. You pay so great anAcknowledgment to me for so small a Kindness, as tho' I did not owe youmuch greater. He serves himself that serves his Friend. He that serves aFriend does not give away his Service, but puts it out to Interest. Ifyou approve of my Service, pray make frequent Use of it; then I shallthink my Service is acceptable, if as often as you have Occasion for ityou 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 thishundred Years. 

_Co. _ What my old Companion _Arnoldus_, the Man I long'd to see most ofany Man in the World! God save you. 

_Ar. _ We all gave thee over for lost. But prithee where hast beenrambling all this While?

_Co. _ In t'other World. 

_Ar. _ Why truly a Body would think so by thy slovenly Dress, leanCarcase, 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 anyThing worth seeing there?

_Co. _ Why truly, to speak ingenuously, little or nothing. They shew ussome certain Monuments of Antiquity, which I look upon to be most of 'emCounterfeits, and meer Contrivances to bubble the Simple and Credulous. I don't think they know precisely the Place that _Jerusalem_ ancientlystood 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 littlePurpose?

_Co. _ No, nor I am not asham'd neither, I have so many Companions of myFolly to keep me in Countenance; and as for Repentance, it's too latenow. 

_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 whenthe 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 toit, 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 hearothers romancing about Things they never heard nor saw; nay, and thatthey do with that Assurance, that when they are telling the mostridiculous and impossible Things in Nature, they persuade themselvesthey are speaking Truth all the While. 

_Ar. _ This is a wonderful Pleasure. Well then, you have not lost allyour 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 Soldiersin the Army, which is the Nursery of all Impiety. 

_Ar. _ But it is an ungentleman-like Thing to take Delight in tellingLies. 

_Co. _ But it is a little more like a Gentleman than either to delightothers, or be delighted in slandering other Persons, or lavishing away aMan'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 shallhappen to be tainted with this Phrensy, I will advise him to stay atHome; as your Mariners that have been cast away, advise them that aregoing 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 asI! What _Pallas_ put that into your Head?

_Ar. _ No _Pallas_, but _Moria_ rather, especially when I left at Home ahandsome young Wife, several Children, and a Family, who had nothing inthe World to depend upon for a Maintenance but my daily Labour. 

_Co. _ Sure it must be some important Reason that drew you away from allthese 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 sickof the same Distemper. 

_Ar. _ There was a Knot of Neighbours of us drinking together, and whenthe Wine began to work in our Noddles, one said he had a Mind to make aVisit to St. _James_, and another to St. _Peter_; presently there wasone or two that promis'd to go with them, till at last it was concludedupon to go all together; and I, that I might not seem a disagreeableCompanion, rather than break good Company, promised to go too. The nextQuestion was, whether we should go to _Rome_ or _Compostella_? Upon theDebate it was determin'd that we should all, God willing, set out thenext 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 whenevery Man had taken off in his Turn, the Vote passed into an Act, andbecame 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 givehis humble Service to _Peter_ and _James_; another dy'd at _Rome_, whobad 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 verydangerous one too, as I am told, by reason of the little Thieves thatinfest 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 notunderstand _Latin_, in that Case he must go back to _Rome_, and get anew 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, fornow there are a great many Spies abroad. 

_Ar. _ I don't speak slightingly of Indulgencies themselves, but I laughat the Folly of my fuddling Companion, who tho' he was the greatestTrifler that ever was born, yet chose rather to venture the whole Stressof his Salvation upon a Skin of Parchment than upon the Amendment of hisLife. 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 lyefastest, 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 Companionthat is yours heartily. Nobody ever thought to have seen you again, youhave 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 comehome 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 yourFace again. But who tells that Story of _Ulysses_?

_Pa. _ _Homer. _

_Co. _ He? They say he's the Father of all fabulous Stories. It may behis Wife had gotten herself a Gallant in the mean time, and thereforedid not know her own _Ulysses_. 

_Pa. _ No, nothing of that, she was one of the chastest Women in theWorld. But _Pallas_ had made _Ulysses_ look old, that he might not beknown. 

_Co. _ How came he to be known at last?

_Pa. _ By a little Wart that he had upon one of his Toes. His Nurse, whowas now a very old Woman, took Notice of that as she was washing hisFeet. 

_Co. _ A curious old Hagg. Well then, do you admire that I know you thathave 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 thatis fit for so many Uses. 

_Pa. _ For what Uses?

_Co. _ First of all, it will serve instead of an Extinguisher, to put outCandles. 

_Pa. _ Go on. 

_Co. _ Again, if you want to draw any Thing out of a deep Pit, it willserve 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 foran 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 yousound an Alarm, a Horn; if you dig, a Spade; if you reap, a Sickle; ifyou 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 aPiece of Houshold Stuff that would serve for so many Uses. 

_Co. _ But in the mean Time, in what Corner of the Earth have you hidyourself all this While?

_Pa. _ In _Rome_. 

_Co. _ But is it possible that in so publick a Place no Body should knowyou 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'dMarket. 

_Co. _ Well, but then you're come home loaden with Benefices. 

_Pa. _ Indeed I hunted after them diligently, but I had no Success; forthe Way of Fishing there is according to the Proverb, with a goldenHook. 

_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 forLead?

_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 withBudgets full of Benefices. Why had you rather have a Benefice than aWife?

_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 atHome a pretty Girl, that they may embrace as often as they have a Mindto it. 

_Pa. _ And you may add this to it, sometimes when they have no Mind toit. I love a continual Pleasure; he that marries a Wife is happy for aMonth, 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 anill Name and bad Conscience with it. 

_Pa. _ You say true, and therefore I design to divert the Tediousness ofSolitude by a Conversation with Books. 

_Co. _ They are the pleasantest Companions in the World. But do youintend 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 haveas much as you please. 

_Pa. _ You tell me good News indeed, come shew it me, my Heart leaps forJoy. 

_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 TenThousands, 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 outof 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 butWaggery; you make a Jest of a serious Matter. In this Affair it is fareasier Matter to teaze me than it is to please me. The Matter is of toogreat a Consequence to be made a Jest on. If you were in my Case youwould not be so gamesome; you make a mere Game of me; you game andbanter 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, Ispeak my Mind. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speaksincerely. I speak the Truth. 

_Pa. _ So may your Cap stand always upon your Head, as you speaksincerely. But do I stand loitering here, and make no haste Home to seehow 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 wouldhave 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 thebetter for Time to come. 

_Co. _ I can't tell that, for I have seen some that have play'd the sameGame over and over again; if once this Infection seizes a Person heseldom 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_, comeback 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, butyou'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 yourHeels. 

_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 callsSin Lead. 

_Thr. _ I have seen and had a Hand in more Villanies this Campaign thanin 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 morewretched. 

_Ha. _ What then must be in the Minds of those People, that for the Sakeof a little Money, and some out of Curiosity, make as much Haste to aBattel as to a Banquet?

_Thr. _ In Truth, I can think no other but they are possess'd; for if theDevil 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 wentthe Battel? Who got the better on't?

_Thr. _ There was such a Hallooing, Hurly-burly, Noise of Guns, Trumpetsand Drums, Neighing of Horses, and Shouting of Men, that I was so farfrom knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I wasmyself. 

_Ha. _ How comes it about then that others, after a Fight is over, dopaint you out every Circumstance so to the Life, and tell you what suchan Officer said, and what t'other did, as tho' they had been nothing butLookers 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 whatwas done in my own Tent, but as to what was done in the Battel, I knownothing 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 aStone, 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 itagainst 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 aPickle. 

_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'sgot over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly. 

_Ha. _ But I hope you have kept your Fingers all this While fromSacrilege?

_Thr. _ There's nothing sacred in Hostility, there we neither spareprivate Houses nor Churches. 

_Ha. _ How will you make Satisfaction?

_Thr. _ They say there is no Satisfaction to be made for what is done inWar, 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 yourCountry, but the Love of Booty that made you a Soldier. 

_Thr. _ I confess so, and I believe very few go into the Army with anybetter Design. 

_Ha. _ It is indeed some Excuse to be mad with the greater Part ofMankind. 

_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 fora 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 foundFault with who are hired to kill Men?

_Ha. _ But was you never thoughtful what should become of your Soul ifyou happen'd to be kill'd in the Battel?

_Thr. _ Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my Mind, having oncefor 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 theSaint 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 totrust to? But without jesting, I don't see how you can expect to beforgiven 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 withthe Commissaries for a Trifle. 

_Ha. _ What, for Sacrilege?

_Thr. _ Ay, if I had robb'd Christ himself, and cut off his Headafterwards, they have Pardons would reach it, and Commissions largeenough 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 ofa 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 theCommunion, like a good Christian, will you not?

_Thr. _ Why should I not? For after I have once discharg'd the Jakes ofmy Sins into his Cowl, and unburden'd myself of my Luggage, let him lookto 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 hisHand upon your Head, and these should be the Words he mutters tohimself? _I absolve thee from all thy good Deeds, of which I find few ornone in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted Manners, and leave thee justas I found thee_. 

_Thr. _ Let him look to what he says, it is enough for me that I believeI am absolv'd. 

_Ha. _ But you run a great Hazard by that Belief, for perhaps that willnot be Satisfaction to God, to whom thou art indebted. 

_Thr. _ Who a Mischief put you in my Way to disturb my Conscience, whichwas very quiet before?

_Ha. _ Nay, I think it is a very happy Encounter to meet a Friend thatgives good Advice. 

_Thr. _ I can't tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not verypleasant. 

_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 lyesnoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; eitherget up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will youhave slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepySot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon asit is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Masterrises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Houra 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 andGalloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush themwell, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweetenthe Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before aclear 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 aSnail's Gallop. 

_Sy. _ Sir, I cannot do two Things at once. 

_Ra. _ You Scoundrel, do you speak Sentences too? Take away theChamber-Pot, lay the Bed-Clothes to Rights, draw back the Curtains, sweep the House, sweep the Chamber-floor, fetch me some Water to wash myHands. What are you a sliving about you Drone? You are a Year a lightinga 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 nimblestFellows 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 uponme to Church, and then run Home and make the Bed, and put every Thing inits Place; let the House be set to Rights from Top to Bottom, rub theChamber-Pot, put these foul Things out of Sight, perhaps I may havesome Gentry come to pay me a Visit; if I find any Thing out of OrderI'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 dineat Home, therefore come to me a little before Ten a-Clock, that you maywait upon me where I am to go to Dinner. 

_Sy. _ You have taken Care of yourself, but there is not a Bit of Breadfor 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 theBran itself. 

_Ra. _ You dainty chap'd Fellow, you ought to be fed with Hay, if you hadsuch Commons as you deserve. What, I warrant you, Mr. Ass, you must befed with Plumb Cakes, must you? If you can't eat dry Bread, take a Leekto 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 anidle 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 yourFingers, that mayn't forget any of 'em: First of all step to theSalesman, and bring my water'd Camblet Doublet if it be done; then goand enquire for _Cornelius_ the Waggoner, he's commonly at the Sign ofthe _Roe-buck_, he uses that House, ask him if he has any Letters forme, and what Day he sets out on his Journey; then go to the WoollenDraper, and tell him from me, not to be uneasy, that I have not sent himthe Money at the Time appointed, for he shall have it in a very littleTime. 

_Sy. _ When? To morrow come never?

_Ra. _ Do you grin you Pimp? Yes, before the first of _March_: And as youcome back, turn on the Left-hand, and go to the Bookseller, and enquireof him, if there be any new Books come out of _Germany_, learn what theyare, and the Price of them; then desire _Goclenius_, to do me the Honourto 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 theHouse to give a Mouse a Meal. 

_Ra. _ And when you have done all these, go to the Market, and buy aShoulder 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 havebeen back before now. 

_Sy. _ What one Person in the World can do all these? Truly I must waitupon him out, and attend upon him home; I'm his Swabber, hisChamberlain, his Footman, his Clerk, his Butler, his Book-keeper, hisBrawl, his Errand-boy, and last of all he does not think I have Businessenough 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 withlying by; I believe they han't been clean'd nor greased this twelveMonths Day; they are so dry, they chap again; wipe them with a wetCloth, and liquor them well before the Fire, and chafe them till theygrow 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 myBridle and Saddle?

_Sy. _ They are just by. 

_Ra. _ See that nothing is wanting or broken, or ready to break, thatnothing may be a Hinderance to us, when we are upon our Journey. Run tothe Sadlers, and get him to mend that Rein: When you come back, lookupon 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 'emdown, 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 Victualsfor three Days together. 

_Sy. _ Indeed they have, Sir. 

_Ra. _ You say so, but the Horses would tell me another Tale, if theycould 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; youbehave yourself so clownishly. A Gentleman ought to behave himself likea Gentleman. As often or whenever any one that is your Superior speaksto 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 thePerson who speaks to you; your Feet set close one by t'other; your Handswithout Action: Don't stand titter, totter, first standing upon oneFoot, and then upon another, nor playing with your Fingers, biting yourLip, scratching your Head, or picking your Ears: Let your Cloaths be puton tight and neat, that your whole Dress, Air, Motion and Habit, maybespeak 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 Prittleprattle, nor Prate apace, nor be a minding any Thing but what is said toyou. If you are to make an Answer, do it in few Words, and to thePurpose, every now and then prefacing with some Title of Respect, andsometimes use a Title of Honour, and now and then make a Bow, especiallywhen you have done speaking: Nor do you go away without asking Leave, orbeing bid to go: Now come let me see how you can practise this. How longhave 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 doso; when you speak, don't speak fast, stammer, or speak in your Throat, but use yourself to pronounce your Words distinctly and clearly. If youpass by any ancient Person, a Magistrate, a Minister, or Doctor, or anyPerson 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 theCross. When you are at a Feast, behave yourself chearfully, but alwaysso as to remember what becomes your Age: Serve yourself last; and if anynice Bit be offer'd you, refuse it modestly; but if they press it uponyou, take it, and thank the Person, and cutting off a Bit of it, offerthe rest either to him that gave it you, or to him that sits next toyou. 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 uponhim 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 yourCountenance, as though you did not understand it; don't reflect on anyBody, nor take place of any Body, nor boast of any Thing of your own, nor undervalue any Thing of another Bodies. Be courteous to yourCompanions that are your Inferiors; traduce no Body; don't be a Blabwith your Tongue, and by this Means you'll get a good Character, andgain Friends without Envy. If the Entertainment shall be long, desire tobe 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 medo?

_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 agreat 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; butTime 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 aBoy himself; he is as ready and free at whipping as any Body, but assparing and backward at this as any Body in the World. 

_Jer. _ We must pick out a Messenger that is not very bashful that won'tbe presently dashed out of Countenance by his surly Words. 

_Nic. _ Let who will go for me, I had rather go without Play than askhim 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, andTongue 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 onyour Spokesman. 

_Jer. _ You promise well for it, I am out in my Opinion if you don't getLeave. Go on Intreater, and return an Obtainer. 

_Coc. _ I'll go, may _Mercury_ send me good Luck of my Errand. God saveyou, 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 mewhat '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 youhave taught us out of _Quintilian_. 

_Ma. _ Very well, how well you can remember what's to your purpose? Theythat 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 makeit up by future Diligence. 

_Ma. _ O rare Makers up! who will be Sureties for the performing thisPromise?

_Coc. _ I'll venture my Head upon it. 

_Ma. _ Nay, rather venture your Tail. I know there is but littleDependance upon your Word; but however, I'll try this Time what Creditmay be given to you; if you deceive me now, you shall never obtain anyThing from me again. Let 'em play; but let them keep together in theField, don't let them go a tippling or worse Exercises, and see theycome 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 yedo, 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 thanStool-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 inour Hands. 

_Nic. _ Well, come on, I don't much Matter; but how much shall we playfor?

_Nic. _ But I had rather spare my Corps than my Money. 

_Jer. _ And I value my Corps more than my Money: We must play forsomething, or we shall never play our best. 

_Nic. _ You say true. 

_Jer. _ Which Hand soever shall get the first three Games, shall pay thesixth Part of a Groat to the other; but upon Condition that what's wonshall be spent among all the Company alike. 

_Nic. _ Well, I like the Proposal; come done, let's chuse Hands; but weare all so equally match'd, that it's no great Matter who and who'stogether. 

_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 gotthe 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. Letevery one stand to his Place bravely. Do you stand behind me ready tocatch the Ball, if it goes beyond me; do you mind there, and beat itback 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 thatthrows 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, orover the House, it shall go for nothing, and we won't be cheated: Andtruly you throw nastily. As you toss it, I'll give it you again; I'llgive you _a Rowland for an Oliver_; but it is better to play fairly andhonestly. 

_Nic. _ It is best at Diversion, to beat by fair Play. 

_Jer. _ It is so, and in War too; these Arts have each their respectiveLaws: There are some Arts that are very unfair ones. 

_Nic. _ I believe so too, and more than seven too. Mark the Bounds with aShell, 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. Playstoutly, we had got this too, if you had stood in your Place. Well, nowwe are equal. 

_Nic. _ But you shan't be so long. Well, we are thirty; we are fortyfive. 

_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 theyare hatch'd_. I have seen those lose the Game that have had so many forLove. War and Play is a meer Lottery. We have got thirty, now we areequal 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 areequally fortunate. 

_Nic. _ Fortune inclines first to one side, and then to t'other, as ifshe could not tell which to give the Victory to. Fortune, be but on ourSide, and we'll help thee to a Husband. O rare! She has answer'd herDesire, 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 betterleave off, too much of one Thing is good for nothing, let us reckon ourWinnings. 

_Nic. _ We have won three Groats, and you have won two; then there is oneto be spent. But who must pay for the Balls?

_Jer. _ All alike, every one his Part. For there is so little won, wecan'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 atBowls. 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'llfind 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 mefor a Share of the Victory. 

_Ber. _ And I had rather have it so too, that the Victory may be entirelymy own. 

_Adol. _ They shall look on, and be Judges. 

_Ber. _ I take you up; But what shall he that beats get, or he that isbeaten 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 Thingto play for Money; you are a _Frenchman_, and I a _German_, we'll bothplay 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 sameWords celebrate your _Germany_. 

_Ber. _ Well, a Match. Now for good Luck; since two great Nations are atStake 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 allone 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: Comebowl away. A strong Bowl indeed, but I am best. 

_Adol. _ If it had not been for that mischievous Bit of a Brick-batthere, 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 cheatye, 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 beatyou, sing. 

_Adol. _ Stay, you should have said how many you'd make up, for my Handis 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, asto Strength and Art; I'll stand to what the Company says. 

_Arb. _ The _German_ has beat, and the Victory is the more glorious, thathe 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 oldCock, crow like a Cockeril. 

_Adol. _ Let _Germany_ flourish thrice. 

_Ber. _ You ought to have said so thrice. I am a-dry; let us drinksomewhere, 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 Throatis 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 LosersPlace. 

_Er. _ But what shall we play for?

_Gas. _ He that is beat shall make and repeat _extempore_ a Distich, inPraise 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 myBooks; 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 Honourin getting a Victory, when Odds is taken: He only can properly be saidto get the Game, that gets it by his own Art; we are as well match'd ascan 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 yourBowl 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. Butcome 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 theseoftentimes 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 ofGrasshoppers; 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, thenwe'll try other Sorts. 

_Lau. _ I'll play at any Sort, where there is no Danger of breaking onesLegs; 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 Oakthe Goal. 

_Vi. _ I wish _Æneas_ was here, that he might propose what should be theConqueror's Prize. 

_Lau. _ Glory is a Reward sufficient for Victory. 

_Vi. _ You should rather give a Reward to him that is beat, to comforthim. 

_Lau. _ Then let the Victor's Reward be to go into the Town crowned witha 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 anamphibious one. 

_Lau. _ But in old Time this was look'd upon to be one of the most nobleExercises. 

_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 Conditionthat can run and swim best. 

_Lau. _ The Art you speak of is not to be set light by; it is asPraise-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 anunaccustomed 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 swumin, 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 Mindto 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 Pietyas 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 hardlythink an old Man to be truly religious, that has not been so in hisyoung Days. Nothing is learn'd to greater Advantage, than what we learnin our youngest Years. 

_Er. _ What is that which is call'd Religion?

_Ga. _ It is the pure Worship of God, and Observation of hisCommandments. 

_Er. _ What are they?

_Ga. _ It is too long to relate all; but I'll tell you in short, itconsists in four Things. 

_Er. _ What are they?

_Ga. _ In the first Place, that we have a true and pious Apprehension ofGod himself, and the Holy Scriptures; and that we not only stand in Aweof him as a Lord, but that we love him with all our Heart, as a mostbeneficent Father. 2. That we take the greatest Care to keep ourselvesblameless; that is, that we do no Injury to any one. 3. That we exerciseCharity, _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 areoffered us, when we can't prevent them, not revenging them, norrequiting 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 Accountevery Day; and correct myself for what I have done amiss: That wasunhandsomely done this saucily said, this was uncautiously acted; inthat 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, orsometimes at five) I sign myself with my Finger in the Forehead andBreast 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 thatDay, so as may be for his Glory, and my Soul's Good; and that he who isthe true Light that never sets, the eternal Sun, that enlivens, nourishes and exhilarates all Things, would vouchsafe to enlighten mySoul, that I mayn't fall into Sin; but by his Guidance, may attaineverlasting Life. 

_Er. _ A very good Beginning of the Day indeed. 

_Ga. _ And then having bid my Parents good Morrow, to whom next to God, Iowe the greatest Reverence, when it is Time I go to School; but so thatI 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, eitherMen or Women; but the Virgin _Mary_ by Name, and especially that Iaccount most peculiarly my own. 

_Er. _ Indeed you seem to have read that Sentence of _Cato, Salutalibenter_, to good Purpose; was it not enough to have saluted Christ inthe Morning, without saluting him again presently? Are you not afraidlest 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 saluteyou again. 

_Ga. _ He frequently salutes again by his secret Inspiration; and heanswers sufficiently that gives what is ask'd of him. 

_Er. _ What is it you ask of him? For I perceive your Salutations arepetitionary, like those of Beggars. 

_Ga. _ Indeed you are very right; for I pray that he, who, when he was aBoy of about twelve Years of Age, sitting in the Temple, taught theDoctors themselves, and to whom the heavenly Father, by a Voice fromHeaven, gave Authority to teach Mankind, saying, _This is my belovedSon, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye him_; and who is the eternalWisdom of the most high Father, would vouchsafe to enlighten myUnderstanding, to receive wholesome Learning, that I may use it to hisGlory. 

_Er. _ Who are those Saints that you call peculiarly yours?

_Ga. _ Of the Apostles, St. _Paul_; of the Martyrs, St. _Cyprian_; of theDoctors, St. _Jerome_; of the Virgins, St. _Agnes_. 

_Er. _ How came these to be yours, more than the rest. Was it by Choiceor 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 toChrist, and procure that by his Assistance it may in Time come to passthat I be made one of their Company. 

_Er. _ Indeed what you ask for is no ordinary Thing: But what do you dothen?

_Ga. _ I go to School, and do what is to be done there with my utmostEndeavour; I so implore Christ's Assistance, as if my Study without itwould signify nothing; and I study as if he offered no Help but to himthat labours industriously; and I do my utmost not to deserve to bebeaten, nor to offend my Master either in Word or Deed, nor any of myCompanions. 

_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 aChurch in my Way, and in three Words, I salute Jesus again; and I pay myRespects to my Parents; and if I have any Time, I repeat, either bymyself, 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 theWorld, and when past is irrecoverable. 

_Er. _ And _Hesiod_ teaches, that good Husbandry ought to be in theMiddle, it is too soon in the Beginning, and too late in the End. 

_Ga. _ _Hesiod_ spoke right enough concerning Wine, but of Time no goodHusbandry is unseasonable. If you let a Hogshead of Wine alone it won'tempty 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 atTable 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 somelawful 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 notan Opportunity, or it be not seasonable, as I pass by the Church Isalute him mentally; and then I do what is to be done at School with allmy Might; and when I go Home again I do what I did before Dinner: AfterSupper I divert myself with some pleasant Stories; and afterwardsbidding my Parents and the Family good Night, I go to Bed betimes, andthere kneeling down by the Bedside, as I have said, I say over thoseThings I have been learning that Day at School; if I have committed anygreat Fault, I implore Christ's Clemency, that he would pardon me, and Ipromise Amendment: and if I have committed no Fault, I thank him for hisGoodness in preserving me from all Vice, and then I recommend myself tohim with all my Soul, that he would preserve me from the Attempts of myevil 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 myRight-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 LeftShoulder, and my Left upon my Right, and so I sleep sweetly, either tillI 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 haveaccustom'd yourself to it for a few Months, these Things will bepleasant, 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 anyStain of Sin. 

_Er. _ And if you find it is, what do you do then? Do you refrain fromthe 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 Eyesto God the Father, whom I have offended, I strike upon my Breast, cryingout 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 himSatisfaction if I can presently; but if I cannot do that, I resolve inmy Mind to reconcile my Neighbour as soon as possible. If any Body hasoffended me, I forbear Revenge, and endeavour to bring it about, that hethat has offended me may be made sensible of his Fault, and be sorry forit; 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, whosemutual Forgiveness thou wilt stand in frequent need of, when Christ hasat 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 puttingto Interest to God; just as tho' one Fellow-Servant should agree withanother to forgive him three Groats, that his Lord might forgive him tenTalents. 

_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 believethemselves 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 Timeenough, and spend whole Days in profane Exercises; but I only disapproveof those who superstitiously fancy that that Day must needs beunfortunate to them that they have not begun with the Mass; andpresently after divine Service is over they go either to Trading, Gaming, or the Court, where whatsoever succeeds, though done justly orunjustly, 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 canhear what the Priest reads, especially the Epistle and the Gospel; fromthese I endeavour to pick something, which I fix in my Mind, and this Iruminate 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 thePriest 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 oldLeaven, that ye may be a new Lump, as ye are unleavened_. On occasion ofthese Words I thus address myself to Christ, "I wish I were theunleavened Bread, pure from all Leaven of Malice; but do thou, O LordJesus, who alone art pure, and free from all Malice, grant that I mayevery Day more and more purge out the old Leaven. " Again, if the Gospelchance to be read concerning the Sower sowing his Seed, I thus pray withmy self, "Happy is he that deserves to be that good Ground, and I praythat of barren Ground, he of his great Goodness would make me goodGround, without whose Blessing nothing at all is good. " These forExample Sake, for it would be tedious to mention every Thing. But if Ihappen 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 thathas 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 passaway the Time?

_Ga. _ I give Thanks to Jesus Christ for his unspeakable Love, incondescending to redeem Mankind by his Death; I pray that he would notsuffer his most holy Blood to be shed in vain for me, but that with hisBody he would always feed my Soul, and that with his Blood he wouldquicken my Spirit, that growing by little and little in the Increase ofGraces, I may be made a fit Member of his mystical Body, which is theChurch; nor may ever fall from that holy Covenant that he made with hiselect Disciples at the last Supper, when he distributed the Bread, andgave the Cup; and through these, with all who are engraffed into hisSociety by Baptism. And if I find my Thoughts to wander, I read somePsalms, 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 canomit 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 arrivedat its full Strength. I am not quite 17 Years old; but yet if I findOccasion, I dine and sup sparingly, that I may be more lively forSpiritual Exercises on holy Days. 

_Er. _ Since I have begun, I will go through with my Enquiries. How doyou find yourself affected towards Sermons?

_Ga. _ Very well, I go to them as devoutly as if I was a going to a holyAssembly; and yet I pick and chuse whom to hear, for there are some, onehad better not hear than hear; and if such an one happens to preach, orif it happen that no Body preaches, I pass this Time in reading theScriptures, I read the Gospel or Epistle with _Chrysostom's_ or_Jerome's_ Interpretation, or any other pious and learned Interpreterthat 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 atolerable Preacher; but I don't seem to be wholly destitute of a Sermonif I hear _Chrysostom_ or _Jerome_ speaking by their Writings. 

_Er. _ I am of your Mind; but how do you stand affected as toConfession?

_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 thePower 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 theChurch, 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 appointedConfession as it is now us'd in the Church, I leave to be disputed byDivines. The Authority of my Betters is enough for me that am but a Ladand a private Person. This is certainly the principal Confession; nor isit an easy Matter to confess to Christ; no Body confesses to him, but hethat is angry with his Sin. If I have committed any great Offence, I layit open, and bewail it to him, and implore his Mercy; I cry out, weepand lament, nor do I give over before I feel the Love of Sin throughlypurged from the Bottom of my Heart, and some Tranquility andChearfulness of Mind follow upon it, which is an Argument of the Sinbeing pardoned. And when the Time requires to go to the holy Communionof 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, everyThing that is done contrary to human Constitutions, unless a wickedContemptuousness shall go along with it: Nay, I scarce believe any Crimeto be Capital, that has not Malice join'd with it, that is, a perverseWill. 

_Er. _ I commend you, that you are so religious, and yet notsuperstitious: Here I think the old Proverb takes place: _Nec omnia, necpassim, nec quibuslibet_, That a Person should neither speak all, norevery where, nor to all Persons. 

_Ga. _ I chuse me a Priest, that I can trust with the Secrets of myHeart. 

_Er. _ That's wisely done: For there are a great many, as is found byExperience, do blab out what in Confessions is discovered to them. Andthere are some vile impudent Fellows that enquire of the Personconfessing, those Things, that it were better if they were conceal'd;and there are some unlearned and foolish Fellows, who for the Sake offilthy Gain, lend their Ear, but apply not their Mind, who can'tdistinguish between a Fault and a good Deed, nor can neither teach, comfort nor advise. These Things I have heard from many, and in Parthave 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 safelytrust 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 itis easy; the greatest Matter is, that there be a Will to it. I oftenrenew my Resolution, especially upon Sundays: And besides that, Iendeavour as much as I can to keep out of evil Company, and associatemyself with good Company, by whose Conversation I may be better'd. 

_Er. _ Indeed you manage yourself rightly: For _evil Conversationscorrupt good Manners_. 

_Ga. _ I shun Idleness as the Plague. 

_Er. _ You are very right, for Idleness is the Root of all Evil; but asthe World goes now, he must live by himself that would keep out of badCompany. 

_Ga. _ What you say is very true, for as the _Greek_ wise Men said thebad are the greatest Number. But I chuse the best out of a few, andsometimes a good Companion makes his Companion better. I avoid thoseDiversions that incite to Naughtiness, and use those that are innocent. I behave myself courteous to all; but familiarly with none but thosethat are good. If I happen at any Time to fall into bad Company, Ieither 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 assoon 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 callyou 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 craftyPersuasions; but I have taken a Resolution not to give my Mind either toMatrimony or Priesthood, nor to be a Monk, nor to any Kind of Life outof 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, nothingshould be resolved on. 

_Er. _ Why so?

_Ga. _ Because I hear every where, so many Priests, Monks and married Menlamenting 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'tdo that, I am resolv'd to maintain an unspotted Innocence and goodName; and last of all I furnish myself with Languages and Sciences thatwill 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 Imeet 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 andPhilosophy 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 therather, that having tasted of all I may the better chuse that I amfittest 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, savingthat the Manners of some of the Professors of it, and the bitterContentions that are among them, displease me. 

_Er. _ He won't be very apt to fall that goes so warily along. Many inthese Days are frighted from Divinity, because they are afraid theyshould not be found in the Catholick Faith, because they see noPrinciple of Religion, but what is called in Question. 

_Ga. _ I believe firmly what I read in the holy Scriptures, and theCreed, called the Apostles, and I don't trouble my Head any farther: Ileave 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 repugnantto the holy Scriptures, I observe it for this Reason, that I may notoffend 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 Housewith 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 areboth sick of the same Disease. 

_Ga. _ No, nor between two Sweet-hearts of the same Mistress, when theyare 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 stayfor you; but I will every Day endeavour to out-go myself, and do youendeavour 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? Andthe hunting Nets?

_Pa. _ Farewell Boars, Bears, Bucks, and Foxes, we'll lay Snares forRabbets. 

_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 finerSport to hunt after Earth-Worms, Snails or Cockles, because they have noWings. 

_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 thesegreen Peels of Walnuts to Pieces and put into it: Wet the Ground withthe 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 Earthafter this Manner from the Serpents Teeth that were sown: But a greatmany Fish are of too fine and delicate a Palate to be catch'd by such avulgar 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 theFrogs. 

_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 aresitting 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 aHobby-Horse. 

_Vi. _ Well then, do you say what we shall play at; and I'll play at whatyou 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: Lookupon 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, Imust say by Heart a good long Lesson for Yesterday, and I am afraid Ican't say it. 

_Sy. _ I am in the same Case with you; for I myself have hardly got mineas it should be. 

_Jo. _ And you know the Master's Severity. Every Fault is a Capital onewith him: He has no more Mercy of our Breeches, than if they were madeof 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 greaterWhip-Master than _Busby_ himself. 

_Sy. _ You say very true, and for that Reason I have often wish'd he hada Palsy in his Arm. 

_Jo. _ It is not pious to wish ill to ones Master: it is our Businessrather to take Care not to fall under the Tyrant's Hands. 

_Sy. _ Let us say one to another, one repeating and the other looking inthe 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 whocan 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 ourTails. 

 * * * * *

2. _Of Writing. _

CORNELIUS, ANDREW. 

_Co. _ You write finely, but your Paper sinks. Your Paper is damp, andthe 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 anotherspeaks. 

_Co. _ Let it be your first chief Care to write well, and your next towrite quick: No more Haste than good Speed. 

_An. _ Very well; say to the Master when he dictates, no more Haste thangood Speed. 

 * * * * *

_A Form of giving Thanks. 

PETER, CHRISTIAN. _

_Pe. _ You have oblig'd me, in that you have written to me sometimes. Ithank you for writing to me often. I love you, that you have not thoughtmuch to send me now and then a Letter. I give you Thanks that you havevisited me with frequent Letters. I thank you for loading of me withPackets of Letters. I thank you heartily that you have now and thenprovoked me with Letters. You have oblig'd me very much that you havehonour'd me with your Letters. I am much beholden to you for your mostobliging Letters to me. I take it as a great Favour, that you have notthought much to write to me. 

_The Answer. _

_Ch. _ Indeed I ought to beg Pardon for my Presumption, who dar'd presumeto trouble a Man of so much Business, and so much Learning with myunlearned Letters. I acknowledge your usual Humanity, who have taken myBoldness in good Part. I was afraid my Letters had given you someOffence, that you sent me no Answer. There is no Reason that you shouldthank me, it is more than enough for me, if you have taken my Industryin good Part. 

 * * * * *

_A Form of asking after News. _

_Pe. _ Is there no News come from our Country? Have you had any News fromour Countrymen? What News? Do you bring any News? Is there any News cometo Town? Is there any News abroad from our Country?

_The Answer. _

_Ch. _ There is much News; but nothing of Truth. News enough indeed; butnothing 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 hadno News at all. Something of News; but nothing certain. There are agreat many Reports come to Town; but they are all doubtful. There is agreat deal of Talk; but nothing true, nothing certain. If Lies please, Ihave brought you a whole Cart-Load of them. I bring you whole Bushels ofTales. 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 andBoats. 

_Han't you received any Letters. The Form_. 

_Pe. _ Have you had no Letters? Have you had any Letters out of your ownCountry? Have no Letters been brought to you? Have you receiv'd anyLetters? Have you had any Letters? Have you receiv'd any Letters fromyour 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. Ihan'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 moreLetters for this long Time, than what you see in my Eye. Indeed I hadrather 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 bepaid, than be written to. 

 * * * * *

_I believe so. The Form. _

_Pe. _ I easily believe you. That is not hard to be believ'd. It is avery easy Thing to believe that. Who would not believe you in that? Hewill be very incredulous, that won't believe you in that Matter. InTruth I do believe you. You will easily make me believe that. I canbelieve you without swearing. What you say is very likely. But for allthat, Letters bring some Comfort. I had rather have either of them, thanneither. 

 * * * * *

_Of Profit. A Form. _

_Ch. _ What signifies Letters without Money? What signifies emptyLetters? What do empty Letters avail? What good do they do, what do theyprofit, advantage? To whom are Letters grateful or acceptable withoutMoney? What Advantage do empty Letters bring? What are idle Letters goodfor? What do they do? What use are they of? What are they good for? Whatdo 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 aregood to wipe your Backside with. If you don't know the Use of them, theyare good to wipe your Arse with. To wipe your Breech with. To wipe yourBackside with. They are good to cleanse that Part of the Body that oftenfouls itself. They are good to wrap Mackrel in. Good to make up GroceryWare 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'reshortly to be a Father, and she a Mother. God be with you. I pray anddesire that it may be prosperous and happy to you both. I pray, I beg ofGod that she, having a safe Delivery, may bear a Child worthy of youboth; and may make you a Father of a fine Child. I commend you that youhave shewed yourself to be a Man. I am glad you have prov'd yourself tobe 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 saywhat 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 bearto be out of it long. I could not bear to be out of my Parents Sight anylonger. I thought it long till I enjoy'd my Friends Company. 

_Ch. _ You have acted very piously. You are very good Humour'd, to thinkof those Matters. We have all a strange Affection for the Country thathath 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 becomenew. See how soon Time changes all human Affairs. Methought I came intoanother World. I had scarce been absent ten Years, and yet I admired atevery Thing, as much as _Epimenides_ the Prince of Sleepers, when hefirst 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 ahasty Shower of Rain, went for Shelter into a Cave, and there fellasleep, 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 verylikely. You tell me a Fiction. I don't think 'tis true. You tell me amonstrous 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 youthink _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 isstoried 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 didafterwards? But _Epimenides_, he came off pretty well, he came tohimself again at last; but a great many Divines never wake out of theirDreams. 

_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, andlooks about him, and sees all Things chang'd, the Woods, the Banks, theRivers, the Trees, the Fields; and, in short, there was nothing but wasnew: 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 afteranother Fashion, than what they were before; they had not the sameCountenances; their Speech was alter'd, and their Manners quitedifferent: Nor do I wonder it was so with _Epimenides_, after so manyYears, when it was almost so with me, when I had been absent but a fewYears. 

_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 oldAge, Diseases, and lastly, with the Calamities of War. 

_Ch. _ This is the Comedy of human Life. This is the inevitable Law ofDestiny. 

 * * * * *

_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 inLaw; with my Kinsman. They are call'd, _Affines_, Kinsmen, who areally'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_, MySon'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_, MyMother's Husband. _Noverca_, My Father's Wife. _Privignus_, The Son ofmy Wife or Husband. _Privigna_, The Daughter of either of them. _Rivalis_, He that loves the same Woman another does. _Pellex_, She thatloves 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 againstto Morrow, I entreat your Company at Supper to Morrow. I desire you'dcome to Dinner with me to Morrow. I would have your Company at Dinnerto 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 Iam afraid I can't. 

_Why?_

_Pe. _ Why can't you? How so? Why so? Wherefore? For what Reason? Forwhat 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 atNight. I must not be abroad at that Time. I shall not have anOpportunity to go out any where to Morrow. I must not be absent atDinner. I expect some Guests myself upon that Day. Some Friends havemade an Appointment to sup at our House that Night. I have some Gueststo entertain that Night, or else I would come with all my Heart. Unlessit were so, I would not be unwilling to come. If it were not so, Ishould 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 Meanscome, 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 askone that is not at his own Disposal: And there would be no need to askme if I could come: But at present, though I had never so much Mind, Ican't; and it would be altogether unnecessary to ask one that iswilling. 

_Pe. _ Then pray let me have your Company the next Day after: However, Imust needs have your Company at Supper the next Day after to Morrow. Youmust not deny me your Company four Days hence. You must make no Excuseas to coming next Thursday. 

_I can't promise. _

_Ch. _ I can't promise. I cannot positively promise you. I can'tcertainly promise you. I will come when it shall be most convenient forus 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 maybe prefix'd, prescrib'd, appointed, set; but set a certain Day. I wouldhave 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 aDay 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 whenyou don't think on me. I shall take you when you don't think on me. I'llcome unlooked for. I'll come upon you before you are aware. I'll come anuninvited and unexpected Guest. 

_I would know before Hand. _

_Pe. _ I would know two Days before Hand. Give me Notice two Days beforeyou come. Make me acquainted two Days before. 

_Ch. _ If you will have me, I'll make a _Sybaritical_ Appointment, thatyou may have Time enough to provide afore Hand. 

_Pe. _ What Appointment is that?

_Ch. _ The _Sybarites_ invited their Guests against the next Year, thatthey might both have Time to be prepar'd. 

_Pe. _ Away with the _Sybarites_, and their troublesome Entertainments: Iinvite 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. Toyour own Loss. You wish for it. You pray for that to your ownIll-convenience. 

_Pe. _ Why so? Wherefore. 

_Ch. _ I'll come provided. I'll come prepar'd. I'll set upon youaccoutred. I'll come furnish'd with a sharp Stomach; do you take Carethat you have enough to satisfy a Vulture. I'll prepare my Belly andwhet 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 anyThing, 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 bringwith 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, thatyou shan't have invited me for nothing. 

_Pe. _ Well, do as you will, so you don't bring any Ghosts along withyou. 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 toSupper with me the next Day. I will do it upon this Condition that youshall be my Guest afterwards. Upon that Condition I promise to come toSupper, that you again shall be my Guest. I promise I will, but uponthese 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 wouldhave 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 thisMeans Feasts use to go round. From hence it comes to pass, that it is along Time before we have done feasting one with another. By thisInterchangeableness Feasts become reciprocal without End. 

_Ch. _ It is the pleasantest Way of Living in the World, if no moreProvision 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 morefreely 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 tokeep 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? Whereare 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 atHome. I go to call a Doctor. I am going into the Country. I made anAppointment just at this Time to go to speak with a certain great Man. Imade 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 astrenuous 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 theMarket. 

_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 muchTrouble on my Account. Save that Trouble till it shall be of Use, it isaltogether unnecessary at this Time. Don't go out of your Way upon myAccount. 

_Ch. _ I reckon I save my Time while I enjoy the Company of so good aFriend. I have nothing else to do, and I am not so lazy, if my Companywon't be troublesome. 

_Pe. _ No Body is a more pleasant Companion. But I won't suffer you to goon my left Hand. I won't let you walk on my left Hand. Here I bid God bewith you. I shall not bear you Company any longer. You shan't go furtherwith me. 

 * * * * *

_A Form of Recommending. _

_Ch. _ Recommend me kindly to _Curio_. Recommend me as kindly as may beto talkative _Curio_. Take Care to recommend me heartily to _Curio_. Idesire 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 yourFavour with all the Earnestness possible. Leave _recommendo_ instead of_commendo_ to _Barbarians_. See that you don't be sparing of yourSpeech with one that is full of Tongue. See that you be not of few Wordswith 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 Iobey you? Then you command me to imitate you. Since you would have itso, I'll do it with all my Heart. Don't hinder me any longer; don't letus hinder one another. 

_Ch. _ But before you go, I intreat you not to think much to teach me howI must use these Sentences, _in morâ, in causâ, in culpâ_; you use to bestudious of Elegancy. Wherefore come on, I entreat you teach me; explainit 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 notin thee. The Delay is in thee. Thou art the Cause, is indeedgrammatically spoken; these are more elegant. 

_In Culpâ. _

I am not in the Fault. The Fault is not mine. I am without Fault. YourIdleness has been the Cause, that you have made no Proficiency, not yourMaster nor your Father. You are all in Fault. You are both in Fault. Youare both to be blam'd. Ye are both to be accus'd. You have gotten thisDistemper 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_, theywho are to be blam'd; and _in damno_, who are Losers. This sort ofPhrase is not to be inverted commonly; _Damnum in illo est. Vitium inillo est. _

 * * * * *

_In Causâ. _

Sickness has been the Occasion that I have not written to you. MyAffairs have been the Cause that I have written to you so seldom, andnot Neglect. What was the Cause? What Cause was there? I was not theCause. The Post-Man was in the Fault that you have had no Letters fromme. Love and not Study is the Cause of your being so lean. This is theCause. 

_In Morâ. _

I won't hinder you. What has hinder'd you? You have hindred us. You arealways a Hindrance. What hindred you? Who has hindred you? You have whatyou ask'd for. It is your Duty to remember it. You have the Reward ofyour 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'dheartily. 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 withyou. But I am a little provok'd at you. I have something to be angrywith you for. 

 * * * * *

_For what Cause. The Form. _

_Au. _ I pray what is it? Why so? But why, I beseech you? What Crime haveI committed? What have I done? _Promereor bona_, I deserve Good;_Commereor mala_, I deserve Ill, or Punishment: The one is used in agood Sense, and the other in an ill. _Demeremur eum_, is said of himthat 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 Careof us. 

_Au. _ But there is no Cause for you to be angry. But you are angrywithout my Desert, and undeservedly; for it has not been my Fault, thatI have come to see you but seldom: Forgive my Hurry of Business that hashindered me from seeing you, as often as I would have done. 

_Ch. _ I will pardon you upon this Condition, if you'll come to Supperwith me to Night. I'll quit you upon that Condition, if you come toSupper with me in the Evening. 

_Au. Christian_, you prescribe no hard Articles of Peace, and thereforeI'll come with all my Heart. Indeed I will do it willingly. Indeed Iwould do that with all Readiness in the World. I shan't do thatunwillingly. I won't want much Courting to that. There is nothing in theWorld that I would do with more Readiness. I will do it with a willingMind. 

_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 whenthey require nothing but what's reasonable. O ridiculous! Do you think Iwould refuse when offer'd me, that which I should have ask'd for of myown 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 myExpectation. See you don't disappoint me. See you don't lull me on witha vain Hope. 

_Au. _ There is no Need to swear. In other Things, in other Matters youmay be afraid of Perfidy. In this I won't deceive you. But hark you, seethat you provide nothing but what you do daily: I would have no holy Daymade upon my Account. You know that I am a Guest that am no greatTrencher Man, but a very merry Man. 

_Ch. _ I'll be sure to take Care. I will entertain you with ScholarsCommons, 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 alittle Meat, the Pleasure of which shall last till the next Day: whereasthey that have been nobly entertain'd, enjoy perhaps a little Pleasurethat Day, but the next are troubled with the Head-ach, and Sickness atthe Stomach. He that supp'd with _Plato_, had one Pleasure from the easyPreparation, and Philosopher's Stories; and another the next Day, thathis Head did not ach, and that his Stomach was not sick, and so had agood 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 atHome, 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 willbring my Muses with me, unless you think it not convenient. 

_Ch. _ Shut up your ill-natured Muses at Home with your Business, butbring your good-natured Muses, all your witty Jests, your By-words, yourBanters, your Pleasantries, your pretty Sayings, and all yourRidiculosities along with you. 

_Au. _ I'll do as you bid me; put on all my best Looks. We'll be merryFellows. 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 Faceon't, and be boon Blades. These are fine Phrases of clownish Fellowsthat 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 themFriends 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 theywill make the Matter up better among themselves. 

_Au. _ Perhaps there is a Cessation of Arms, and the Peace is to beconcluded 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 toSupper 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. Icongratulate myself that you are come. I believe it has not struck fiveyet. 

_Boy. _ Yes, it is a good While past five. It is not far from six. It isalmost six. You'll hear it strike six presently. 

_Au. _ It is no great Matter whether I come before five or after five, aslong as I am not come after Supper; for that is a miserable Thing, tocome after a Feast is over. What's all this great Preparation for? Whatmeans all this Provision? What, do you think I'm a Wolf? Do you take mefor a Wolf? Do you think I'm a Vulture?

_Ch. _ Not a Vulture, nor yet do I think you a Grashopper, to live uponDew. Here is nothing of Extravagancy, I always lov'd Neatness, and abhorSlovenliness. I am for being neither luxurious nor niggardly. We hadbetter leave than lack. If I dress'd but one Dish of Peas, and the Sootshould chance to fall in the Pot and spoil it, what should we have toeat then? Nor does every Body love one Thing; therefore I love amoderate Variety. 

_Au. _ An't you afraid of the sumptuary Laws?

_Ch. _ Nay, I most commonly offend on the contrary Side. There is no needof the _Fannian_ Law at our House. The Slenderness of my Income teachesme Frugality sufficiently. 

_Au. _ This is contrary to our Agreement. You promised me quiteotherwise. 

_Ch. _ Well, Mr. Fool, you don't stand to your Agreement. For it wasagreed upon that you should bring nothing but merry Tales. But let ushave 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 Handsthis twelve Months. 

_Au. _ O ridiculous! 'Tis not he that is the most honourable, but hethat is the dirtiest that should wash first; then do you wash as thedirtiest. 

_Ch. _ You are too complaisant. You are more complaisant than enough;than is fitting. But to what Purpose is all this Ceremony? Let us leavethese trifling Ceremonies to Women, they are quite kick'd out of theCourt already, although they came from thence at first. Wash three orfour at a Time. Don't let us spend the Time in these Delays. I won'tplace any Body, let every one take what Place he likes best. He thatloves to sit by the Fire, will sit best here. He that can't bear theLight let him take this Corner. He that loves to look about him, let himsit 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. Whydon'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 ofPhilosophers, who make the _Summum bonum_ of Mankind, to consist in acertain, I can't tell what, _honestum_. The _Epicures_ are the Reverseof 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, andare 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 Blessingupon what is or shall be set upon this Table. Amen. "

_Ch. _ Set the Victuals on the Table. Why do we delay to eat up thisCapon? Why are we afraid to carve this Cock?

_Au. _ I'll be _Hercules_, and slay this Beast. Which had you ratherhave, 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 otherFowls the Leg is commonly esteemed the greater dainty Bit. 

_Ch. _ I put you to a great Deal of Trouble. You take a great Deal ofTrouble upon you, upon my Account. You help every Body else, and eatnothing 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 foryourself. 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 youwere at your own House. 

_Au. _ I take myself to be there. I do so. I am resolv'd so to do. Idesign 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. Itpleases 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 theTaste be pleasing. I don't much mind how the Wine pleases the Eye, so itdo but please the Palate. I an't much mov'd at the Sight of it, if theTaste be but grateful. It is no great Matter what Colour it is of, orwhat Colour it has, if it does but taste well. I don't desire to pleasemy Eyes if I can but please my Taste. If it do but please the Palate, Idon't regard the Colour, if it be well relish'd. 

_Ch. _ I believe so: But there are some Persons that are mighty deeplyread in Table Philosophy, who deny that the Wine can be good, unless itpleases 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 yourOpinion, who are a Man of great Skill in these Matters. 

_Au. _ Our Countrymen prefer White before Red, because the Red is alittle more upon the Acid, and the White a smaller Wine; but that is themilder, and in my Opinion the more wholsome. 

_Ch. _ We have a pale red Wine, and a yellow Wine, and a purple ColourWine. This is new Wine, this Year's Wine. This is two Years old, if anyBody is for an old Wine. We have some four Years old, but it is grownflat 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'sthe 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 eithertroubled 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 logicalSubtilties, 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 anOffence to you, and you love a noisy Feast, you have gotten that willmake one. 

_Ch. _ I remember I have. That's very well minded: We must drink morefreely, 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 havehit the Mark. For, _Foecundi calices quem non fecere disertum?_

_Ch. _ That is very learnedly spoken, _Austin_, and so indeed is all thatcomes from you; but since we are fallen into a Discourse concerningWine, since we have happen'd to make mention of Wine, I have a mind toask you, for what Reason the Ancients, who will have _Bacchus_ theInventor of Wine, call him the God of the Poets? What has that drunkenGod 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. ButI 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 bythat Means. Ah, go your Way, I see you're a Sophister; you have made agood Proficiency in that School. 

_Ch. _ Well, I take all your Jokes; I'll return the like to you, whenOpportunity shall offer. But to the Matter in Hand. 

_Au. _ I'll go on, but I'll drink first, for it is absurd to disputeabout 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 aftermy Manner. That they have given a Boy's Face to _Bacchus_, has thisMystery in it; that Wine being drank, takes away Cares and Vexationsfrom our Minds, and adds a Sort of a Chearfulness to them. And for thisReason, it adds a Sort of Youthfulness even to old Men, in that it makesthem 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 itthey design'd to intimate this, that Wine both stirs up Wit andadministers Eloquence; which two Things are very fit for Poets. Whenceit comes to pass, that your Water Drinkers make poor Verses. For_Bacchus_ is of a fiery Constitution naturally, but he is made moretemperate, being united with the Nymphs. Have you been answer'd to yourSatisfaction?

_Ch. _ I never heard any Thing more to the Purpose from a Poet. Youdeserve 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 ofan 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 wouldhelp you, if I knew your Palate. I would help you, if I knew what youlik'd best. If I knew the Disposition of your Palate, I would be yourCarver. Indeed my Palate is like my Judgment. 

_Ch. _ You have a very nice Palate. No Body has a nicer Palate than youhave. I don't think you come behind him of whose exquisite Skill theSatyrist says, _Ostrea callebat primo deprendere morsu, Et semel aspecti dicebat littus echini. _

_Au. _ And you, my _Christian_, that I may return the Compliment, seem tohave 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 thanCookery. 

_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 Earswith a vain Pleasure? But Cookery feeds and repairs the Palate, theBelly, 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. Inever very well liked those _Stoicks_, who referring all things to their(I can't tell what) _honestum_, thought we ought to have no regard toour 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 andapprove _Epicurus_ more than that _Cynic Diogenes_, who lived upon rawHerbs and Water; and therefore I don't wonder that _Alexander_, thatfortunate King, had rather be _Alexander_ than _Diogenes_. 

_Ch. _ Nor indeed would I myself, who am but an ordinary Man, change myPhilosophy for _Diogenes_'s; and I believe your _Catius_ would refuseto do it too. The Philosophers of our Time are wiser, who are content todispute like _Stoicks_, but in living out-do even _Epicurus_ himself. And yet for all that, I look upon Philosophy to be one of the mostexcellent Things in Nature, if used moderately. I don't approve ofphilosophising too much, for it is a very jejune, barren, and melancholyThing. When I fall into any Calamity or Sickness, then I betake myselfto Philosophy, as to a Physician; but when I am well again, I bid itfarewell. 

_Au. _ I like your Method. You do philosophize very well. Your humbleServant, Mr. Philosopher; not of the _Stoick_ School, but the Kitchen. 

_Ch. _ What is the Matter with you, _Erasmus_, that you are somelancholy? What makes you look so frowningly? What makes you so silent?Are you angry with me because I have entertained you with such a slenderSupper?

_Er. _ Nay, I am angry with you that you have put your self to so muchCharge upon my Account. _Austin_ laid a strict Charge upon you that youwould provide nothing extraordinary upon his Account. I believe you havea Mind we should never come to see you again; for they give such aSupper as this that intended to make but one. What sort of Guests didyou 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 aSupper, 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; Ihave 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 isthe Disposition of Mankind to be most desirous of those Things that arethe 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 asSwine's Flesh. 

_Ch. _ Nor without Reason, for what is more unwholsome? In this I am notof the _French_ Man's but of the _Jew's_ Mind. 

_Er. _ But I love both Mutton and Pork, but for a different Reason; for Ieat 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. IndeedI am apt to admire from whence it comes to pass that there is such agreat 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_, andevery Man has his own Way; yet no Body can make me believe, there ismore Variety in Mens Dispositions, than there is in their Palates: Sothat you can scarce find two that love the same Things. I have seen agreat 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 eatboil'd. There are many that prefer Water before Wine. And more thanthis, which you'll hardly believe; I have seen a Man who would neithereat Bread, nor drink Wine. 

_Ch. _ What did that poor Man live on?

_Er. _ There was nothing else but what he could eat; Meat, Fish, Herbsand Fruit. 

_Ch. _ Would you have me believe you?

_Er. _ Yes, if you will. 

_Ch. _ I will believe you; but upon this Condition, that you shallbelieve 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 agreat many that eat dry'd Fish instead of Bread: And some that the Rootsof 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 withSleep, without the Assistance either of Meat or Drink. 

_Ch. _ Fie for Shame; I can't forbear making Use of that Expression ofthe Satyrist, Tunc immensa cavi spirant mendacia folles. 

Thou poeticisest. You play the Part of a Poet. I am loath to give youthe Lye. 

_Er. _ I am the greatest Lyar in the World, if _Pliny_, an Author ofundoubted Credit, has not written, that a Bear in fourteen Days Timewill grow wonderfully fat with nothing but Sleep: And that he will sleepso sound, that you can scarce wake him, by wounding him: Nay, to makeyou admire the more, I will add what _Theophrastus_ writes, that duringthat Time, if the Flesh of the Bear be boil'd, and kept some Time, itwill come to Life again. 

_Ch. _ I am afraid that _Parmeno_ in _Terence_ will hardly be able tocomprehend these Things. I believe it readily. I would help you to someVenison, 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 goodFriend of mine, sent it me for a Present; but so, that I oftentimes buyit for less. 

_Er. _ How so?

_Ch. _ Because I am obliged to give more to his Servants, than I couldbuy 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 Lawsupon 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 nothingbut 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 andIndustry: For Love affords a great Deal of Eagerness to learn, and asthe 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 admirableStory concerning this Animal. 

_Ch. _ What is it, I pray you?

_Au. _ That as often as they prick up their Ears, they are very quick ofHearing; 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 Wordspoken of receiving Guineas, there is no Body quicker of Hearing than I;for then with _Pamphilus_ in _Terence_, I prick up my Ears; but whenthere is any Mention made of paying them away, I let them down, and ampresently 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 whiteHares; 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 aHare'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 beyou have heard of it. The same Man testifies that there is the sameNature in all of them; that is, of Males and Females, and that theFemales 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, forthey are fat and tender. I would help that pretty Lady if I sat nigherto her. _Austin_, pray take Care of that Lady that sits by you, for youknow 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'sthe Matter, but this Goose don't please me; I never saw any Thing dryerin all my Life; it is dryer than a Pumice-Stone, or _Furius_'s Mother inLaw, upon whom _Catullus_ breaks so many Jests. I believe it is made ofWood; And in Troth I believe 'tis an old Soldier, that has worn itselfout with being upon the Guard. They say a Goose is the most wakefulCreature living. In Truth, if I am not out in my Guess, this Goose wasone of them, who when the Watch and their Dogs were fast asleep, in oldTime defended the _Roman_ Capitol. 

_Ch. _ As I hope to live I believe it was, for I believe it liv'd in thatAge. 

_Au. _ And this Hen was either half starv'd, or else was in love, or wasjealous; for this Sort of Creatures are much troubled with thatDistemper. This Capon fatten'd much better; see what Cares will do. Ifwe 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 itmay be you are _Gallus Gallaceus_. 

_Ch. _ What Word is that?

_Au. _ I leave that Word to be unriddled by you: I am _Sphinx_, and youshall 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 withthem?

_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 agreat 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 andbountiful, _Christian_. 

_Ch. _ No Body touches these Partridges nor the Pigeons, to-Morrow is aFast-Day appointed by the Church; prepare against that Hunger; Ballastyour Ship against the impending Storm. War is a coming, furnish yourBelly with Provision. 

_Au. _ I wish you had kept that Word in, we should have risen from Suppermore 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 bettersometimes to be sick, than to be too well. 

_Au. _ In my Opinion the _Jews_ themselves did not labour under such aBurden. Indeed I could easily refrain from Eels and Swines Flesh, if Imight fill my Belly with Capons and Partridges. 

_Ch. _ In a great many Circumstances it is not the Thing, but the Mindthat distinguishes us from _Jews_; they held their Hands from certainMeats, as from unclean Things, that would pollute the Mind; but we, understanding that _to the Pure, all Things are pure_, yet take awayFood from the wanton Flesh, as we do Hay from a pamper'd Horse, that itmay be more ready to hearken to the Spirit. We sometimes chastise theimmoderate Use of pleasant Things, by the Pain of Abstinence. 

_Au. _ I hear you; but by the same Argument, Circumcision of the Fleshmay be defended; for that moderates the Itch of Coition, and bringsPain. If all hated Fish as bad as I do, I would scarce put a Parricideto 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'tmake for their Health. 

_Ch. _ I have heard of some of the _Æsops_ and _Apitius_'s, that havelook'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 isbad 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 tothe Rich; and if the Poor can't eat Flesh many Times, when otherwisethey might, nor can't eat Fish, because they are commonly the dearer; towhom does the Injunction do good?

_Ch. _ To all; for poor Folks may eat Cockles or Frogs, or may gnaw uponOnions or Leeks. The middle Sort of People will make some Abatement intheir usual Provision; and though the Rich do make it an Occasion ofliving deliciously, they ought to impute that to their Gluttony, and notblame the Constitution of the Church. 

_Au. _ You have said very well; but for all that, to require Abstinencefrom Flesh of poor Folks, who feed their Families by the Sweat of theirBrows, and live a great Way from Rivers and Lakes, is the same Thing asto 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 notmiserable that dies well. 

_Au. _ Let that be so; yet it is a very hard Thing to require any Body todie. 

_Ch. _ The Popes don't prohibit the eating of Flesh with that Design, tokill Men, but that they may be moderately afflicted if they havetransgress'd; or that taking away their pleasant Food, their Bodies maybe 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'tbe prescrib'd, a Kind of Food may. 

_Au. _ There are Fishes that yield much Aliment, and there are Sorts ofFlesh 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 youchuse a lively Horse that was a little wanton, or a diseased Horse, whowould often stumble and throw his Rider?

_Ch. _ What do you mean by that?

_Au. _ Because Fish-eating, by its corrupt Humours, renders the Bodyliable to a great many Diseases, that it can't subserve the Spirit as itshould 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 Mindacts by the material Organs of the Body, which are affected with good orbad Humours, the Instruments being vitiated, it can't exert its Power asit 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; butfor 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, butevery one the Things of another_. 

_Ch. _ How come we by this new Divine at our Table? Whence comes this newupstart 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 suffersall Things, why won't it suffer us to eat those Meats the Gospel hasgiven us a Liberty to eat? Why do those Persons, from whom Christ has sooften required the Love of himself, suffer so many Bodies of Men to beendanger'd by capital Diseases, and their Souls to be in Danger ofeternal Damnation, because of a Thing neither forbidden by _Christ_, nornecessary in itself?

_Ch. _ When Necessity requires it, the Force of a human Constitutionceases, and the Will of the Lawgiver ceases. 

_Au. _ But the Offence of the Weak does not cease. The Scruple of atender Conscience does not cease. And lastly, it is uncertain with whatLimits that Necessity shall be bounded; shall it be when the Fish-eatershall be a giving up the Ghost? It is too late to give Flesh to a Manwhen 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 inEcclesiastical Affairs. 

_Ch. _ What do you mean by that?

_Au. _ If I were Pope I would exhort all Persons to a perpetual Sobrietyof Life, but especially before an holy-Day; and moreover, I would giveevery one leave to eat what he would, for the Health of his Body, so hedid it moderately, and with Thanksgiving; and I would endeavour thatwhat was abated of these Observations should be made up in the Study oftrue Piety. 

_Ch. _ That in my Opinion is of so great Weight, that we ought to makeyou 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'ddown in the _Sorbon_ at _Paris_. 

_Au. _ Nay, rather let what is said be written in Wine, as it is fitthose Things should that are said over our Cups; but we have hadDivinity 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_ becalled 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 thislittle Supper in good Part, though it be but a slender one. Be merry andgood humour'd, though the Supper be but mean and slender. I, relyingupon your Familiarity, made bold to invite you; and I will assure you, your Company and Presence is not only very grateful to me, but verypleasant. 

_Gu. _ We do assure you, good _Christian_, that we esteem your Supper tohave 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; forindeed I look upon the Entertainment to be splendid to the greatestdegree, that in the first Place consisted of Courses agreeable toNature, and was season'd with Mirth, Laughter, Jokes and Witticisms, none of which have been wanting in our Entertainment. But here issomething 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 somethingwiser than _Varro_, for we have gotten here three pretty Maids for thethree _Graces_; and as it is not to be thought that _Apollo_ is everabsent 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 Iwould crown you with it, and you should be Poet Laureat. 

_Au. _ If I were crown'd with Mallows, I should be Poet _Maleat_; I donot arrogate that Honour to myself. This is an Honour that I don'tdeserve. 

 ------_Haud equidem tali me dignor honore. _

_Ch. _ Will you, every one of you, do as much for me as I will do foryou?

_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 youfirst, _Midas_. 

_Mi. _ I thank you heartily. I pledge you heartily; for which the Vulgarsays _Præstolor_. Indeed I won't refuse. I won't refuse any Thing foryour 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 doyou. _Proficiat_ is an out of the Way Word. 

_Ch. _ Why does the Cup stand still? Why does it not go about? Is ourWine gone? Where are your Eyes, you Rascal? Run quickly, fetch twoQuarts of the same Wine. 

_Boy. Erasmus_, your humble Servant, there is one wants to speak withyou 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 setsout 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 willdischarge that. You have no Need to put your Hand in your Pocket. Ithank you that you honour'd me with your Company; but I am sorry you arecalled away before the Comedy is ended. 

_Er. _ Have I any Thing more to do but to bid you _Farewell and bemerry?_

_Ch. _ Farewell, we can't take it amiss, because you don't leave aShoulder of Mutton for a Sheep's-Head, but go from Friends to a betterFriend. 

_Er. _ And I in like Manner return you my Thanks, that you have been sokind as to invite me to this most pleasant Entertainment. My very goodFriends, 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 theTrenchers and the Plates. Take up my Knife that is fallen down. Poursome Wine over the Pears. Here are some early ripe Mulberries that grewin 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 rareSight with us: See, here are mellow Apples; and here is a new Sort of anApple, the Stock of which I set with my own Hands; and Chestnuts, andall Kinds of Delicacies, which our Gardens produce plentifully. 

_Au. _ But here are no Flowers. 

_Ch. _ They are _French_ Entertainments, who love that Sort of Splendormost that costs least; but that is not my Humour. 

_Au. _ 'Tis not only among _Frenchmen_ that you will find those that lovewhat is of little Cost. 

_Ch. _ But hark you, _Austin_, do you think to come off so? What, won'tyou pledge me when I drink to you? You ought to have taken off Half theCup of him that drank to you. 

_Au. _ He excused me for that a great While ago. He discharg'd me of thatObligation. 

_Ch. _ Pray who gave him that Power? The Pope himself can hardly dispensewith this Obligation. You know the ancient Law of Drinking, _Eitherdrink or go your Way_. 

_Au. _ He that an Oath is made to has Power to suspend it, and especiallyhe, 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 whatis left. But what Business have you with me?

_Ch. _ You must pay for all. Why do you look pale? Don't be afraid, youmay do it very easily, do as you have often done, that by some Elegancywe may rise from Table more learned; nor are you ignorant that theAncients over the second Course used to dispute of some more divertingSubjects. Come on then, by what, and after how many Ways may thisSentence 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 worthhearing. It is unworthy to be heard. It is not worthy to be heard. It isso 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. Itis 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 havetaken Pains much in teaching you. I have taken much Pains in thatMatter. I have not spent less Money than I have Care upon that Matter. Ihave not spent a little Money, but much Time, and very much Labour, andsome Study. I have spent much Study. This Thing has cost me many aNight's Sleep, much Sweat, much Endeavour, very much Labour, a greatExpence, a great Deal of Money. It has cost me more than you believe. MyWife stands me in less than my Horse. 

_Ch. _ But what is the meaning, _Austin_, that you put sometimes anAblative, and sometimes a Genitive Case to the Verb _constat_?

_Au. _ You have stated a very useful and very copious Question. But thatI may not be troublesome to the Company by my too much Talk, I willdispatch 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 Genitivesare put alone, without Substantives, _tanti, quanti, pluris, minoris, tantidem, quantivis, quanticunque_: But in Case Substantives be notadded, which, if they happen to be put, they are both turned into theAblative Case; so that if a certain Price be set down, you put it in theAblative Case; if by an Adjective put substantively, you put it in theAblative 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 eithertaken or lost) _vendo, venundo; revendo_, (that is, I sell again thatwhich was sold to me) _veneo_, (that is, I am sold) whose Prater Tenseis _venivi_, or _venii_, the Supine _venum_; hence comes _venalis_; andfrom that, _i. E. _ _vendo_, comes _vendibilis; mereo_, for _inservio etstipendium_ _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_, forI estimate or rate. _Constat_, for it is bought. _Conducere_, to let tohire. _Fænero_, I put to Interest. _Fæneror_, I take at Interest (toUsury. ) _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 lettit for more before now. But I would not give so much for it. If you hireit for less I'll be hang'd. Nay, your Neighbour _Chremes_ offer'd me aField, 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 cheapena 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 lettit 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 toolittle, no Body will sell you for less. Upon my Life it cost me as muchwithin a Trifle. You Witch, you tell a Lie, that you may sell it fortwice or three Times as much as it cost you. Ay, I'll sell it for ahundred Times as much if I can, but I can't find such Fools. What if Ishould ask the Price of yourself? What do you value yourself at?According as I like the Person. What do you prize yourself at? WhatPrice do you set upon yourself? Tell me, what Price do you rate yourselfat? 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 Ibelieve you an't now worth so much as a Fish by a great Deal. Go hangyourself, you Pimp. I value you as little as you do me. He that shallgive a Farthing for you buys you too dear. But I'll be sold for more, orI won't be sold at all. If you would be sold at a great Rate you mustget you a Mask, for those Wrinkles in your Forehead won't let you besold for much. He that won't give so much for me shan't have me. I wouldnot 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 inthe 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 greatFriend. But guess what it was sold for. Ten. Nay, fifteen. O good God! Iwould not give Half so much for him and all his Family together. But hewould give twice as much for your Wife. "Do you take Notice, that in allthese, wheresoever there is a Substantive of the Price, that is put inthe Ablative Case; but that the rest are either put in the GenitiveCase, or are changed into Adverbs. You have never heard a Comparativewithout a Substantive, except in these two, _pluris_, and _minoris_. There are some other Verbs, of which we have spoken, that are not verymuch unlike these, _sum, facio, habeo, duco, æstimo, pendo_, whichsignify (in a Manner) the same Thing; likewise _fio_, and they are forthe 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 bemade of such Account by Men as you make Account of Virtue. Gold isvalued 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'tvalue your Threats of a Rush. I make a very little Account of yourPromises. I don't value you of a Hair. If Wisdom were but valued at sogreat a Rate as Money, no Body would want Gold. With us, Gold withoutWisdom is esteem'd to be of more Worth than Wisdom without Gold. Iesteem you at a greater Rate, because you are learned. You will be theless esteem'd on here because you don't know how to lye. Here are agreat many that will persuade you that Black is White. I set thegreater 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 muchyou shall be accounted of every where. It is no Matter what you areaccounted, but what you are. I value my _Christian_ above any Man elsein the World. "There are some other Verbs found with these Genitives andAblatives, which in their own Nature don't signify buying, or anythinglike it. " _Peter_ bought a Kiss of the Maid for a Shilling. Much goodmay 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 hundredSesterces for a Supper. But the _French_ often sup for a Half-penny. What Price does _Faustus_ teach for? A very small Matter. But for morethan _Delius_. For how much then? For nineteen Guineas. I won't learn tolye at so dear a Rate. _Phædria_ in _Terence_ lost both his Substanceand himself. But I would not love at that Rate. Some Persons pay a greatPrice for sleeping. _Demosthenes_ had more for holding his Tongue thanothers had for speaking. I pray you to take it in good Part. "There isanother Sort of Verbs, that require an Accusative Case, with a Genitiveor 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 aFault. _Postulo_, _i. E. _ I require you to answer at Law, _accerso_, Iimpeach, _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 mostimpudent, accusest me of Impudence. _Lepidus_ is accused of Bribery. Youare accus'd of a capital Crime. If you shall slily insinuate a Man tobe guilty of Covetousness, you shall hear that which is worse again. Puthim in Mind of his former Fortune. Men are put in Mind of theirCondition, by that very Word. Put _Lepidus_ in Mind of his Promise. "There are many that admit of a double Accusative Case. I teach theeLetters. He entreats you to pardon him. I will unteach thee thoseManners. "

"Here I must put you in Mind of that Matter, that in these the Passivesalso 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 ofTheft. Thou accusest me of Sacrilege. I am accused of Sacrilege. I knowyou are not satisfied yet. I know you are not satisfied in Mind. Forwhen will so great a Glutton of Elegancies be satisfy'd? But I must haveRegard to the Company, who are not all equally diverted with theseMatters. After Supper, as we walk, we will finish what is behind, unlessyou shall rather chuse to have it omitted. 

_Ch. _ Let it be as you say. Let us return Thanks to divine Bounty andafterwards we'll take a little Walk. 

_Mi. _ You say very well, for nothing can be more pleasant, nor wholsomethan this Evening Air. 

_Ch. Peter_, come hither, and take the Things away in Order, one afterthe 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 potentiacondidisti omnia, tua inscrutabili sapientia gubernas universa, tuainexhausta bonitate cuncta pascis ac vegetas: largire filiis tuis, utaliquando tecum bibant in regno tuo nectar illud immortalitatis, quodpromisisti ac praeparasti vere diligentibus te, per Iesum Christum. Amen. _

We thank thee, heavenly Father, who by thy unspeakable Power, hastcreated all Things, and by thy inexhaustible Wisdom governest allThings, and by thy inexhaustible Goodness feedest and nourishest allThings: Grant to thy Children, that they may in due Time drink with theein thy Kingdom, that _Nectar_ of Immortality; which thou hast promis'dand prepar'd for those that truly love thee, through Jesus Christ, _Amen_. 

_Ch. _ Say in _Greek_ too, that the rest mayn't understand what thousayest. 

_Pe. _ [Greek: Heucharistoumen soi, pater ouranie, ho tê arrêtô soudunamei ktisas ta panta, ho tê anexereunêtô sou sophia kubernônhapaxapanta, ho tê anexantlêtô sou chrêstotêti hekasta trephomenos tekai auxanon. Charizou tois yiois sou to meta sou pote piein to têsathanasias nektar, ho upechou kai êtoimasas tois alêthôs agapôsi se, diaIêsou Christou, tou yiou sou, tou kyriou hêmôn, tou meta sou zôntos kaibasileuontos en henotêti tou pneumatos hagiou, eis tous aiônas. Amên. ]

_Ch. _ My most welcome Guests, I give you Thanks that you have honour'dmy little Entertainment with your Company. I intreat you to accept itkindly. 

_Gu. _ And we would not only have, but return our Thanks to you. Don'tlet us be over ceremonious in thanking, but rather let us rise fromTable, and walk out a little. 

_Au. _ Let us take these Virgins along with us, so our Walk will be morepleasant. 

_Ch. _ You propose very well. We'll not want Flowers, if the Place wewalk in don't afford any. Had you rather take a Turn in our Garden, in apoetical Manner, or walk out abroad by the River-Side. 

_Au. _ Indeed, your Gardens are very pleasant, but keep that Pleasure forMorning Walks. When the Sun is towards setting, Rivers afford wonderfulpleasant Prospects. 

_Ch. Austin_, do you walk foremost as a Poet should do, and I'll walk byyour 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 someNobleman. 

_Ch. _ Now be as good as your Word. Perform the Task you have taken uponyou. 

_Au. _ What is it you'd have me speak of chiefly?

_Ch. _ I us'd formerly to admire many Things in _Pollio_'s Orations; butchiefly this, that he us'd so easily, so frequently and beautifully toturn a Sentence, which seemed not only a great Piece of Wit, but ofgreat 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 divineFaculty, which I believe, was peculiar to him, by a certain Dexterity ofArt, and by much Use of Speaking, Reading and Writing, rather than byany Rules or Instructions. 

_Ch. _ But I would fain have some Rule for it, if there be any to begiven. 

_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 wellas 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 Variationof Phrase, when they don't know how to express it once right. It is notenough for them to have babbled once, but they must render the Babblemuch more babbling, by first one, and then by another turning of it; asif they were resolv'd to try the Experiment, how barbarously they wereable to speak: And therefore, they heap together, certain simplesynonymous Words, that are so contrary one to the other, that they mayadmire 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 whatis so ragged that he may be ashamed to put it on, should every now andthen change his Rags, as though he design'd to shew his Beggary by Wayof Ostentation: And those Affectators of Variety seem equallyridiculous, who, when they have spoken barbarously once, repeat the sameThing much more barbarously; and then over and over again much moreunlearnedly. This is not to abound with Sentences, but Solæcisms:Therefore, in the first Place, as I have said, the Thing is to beexpress'd in apt and chosen Words. 2. And then we must use Variety ofWords, 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, thenwe 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 Waysof Variation, as there were in the Actives. 5. And after that, if youplease, you may turn them again by verbal Nouns and Participles. 6. Andlast of all, when we have chang'd Adverbs into Nouns, and Nounssometimes into one Part of Speech, and sometimes into another; then wemay speak by contraries. 7. We may either change affirmative Sentencesinto negative, or the contrary. 8. Or, at least, what we have spokenindicatively, we may speak interrogatively. Now for Example Sake, let ustake 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, ina wonderful Manner, above Measure, very much, not indifferently (not alittle) mightily, highly, very greatly. 

_Me. _

My Mind, my Breast, my Eyes, my Heart, _Christian_. 

_Delectârunt. _

They have affected, recreated, exhilarated with Pleasure, have been aPleasure, have delighted, have bath'd me with Pleasure; have been verysweet, 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 haswonderfully chear'd me. 

_Au. _ Turn the Active into a Passive, then it will look with anotherFace. 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 havereceiv'd very much Pleasure from your Highness's Letter. Your Writingshave brought me not an indifferent Joy. Your Writings have overwhelmedme all over with Joy. "But here you can't turn these into Passives, onlyin the last, _perfusus gaudio_, as is commonly said, Pleasure was takenby me, Joy was brought, is not so commonly used, or you must not use sofrequently. "

_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 littleEpistle has brought not a little Joy. 

_By_ Sum _and Nouns Adjectives. _

Thy Letters have been most pleasant to me many Ways. That Epistle ofthine was, indeed, as acceptable, as any Thing in the World. 

_By Nouns Substantives. _

Thy Letter was to us an unspeakable Pleasure. Your Letter was anincredible Pleasure to us. 

_Change it into a Negative. _

Thy Letter was no small Joy. Nothing in Life could happen moredelightful than thy Letters. "Although I have sometimes already made Useof this Way, which is not to be pass'd over negligently. For when wewould use _multum, plurimum_, to signify, _singulariter_, we do it by acontrary Verb. " As, _Henry_ loves you mightily: He loves you with nocommon Love. Wine pleases me very much: It pleases me not a little. Heis a Man of a singular Wit: A Man of no ordinary Wit. He is a Man ofadmirable 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_ theOrator 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 isenough: Nor are you ignorant, that we make Use of a two-fold Manner ofSpeech, of this Kind: For Modesty Sake, especially, if we speak of ourselves; 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 alwaysmade 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 toour own. Nothing ever fell out to me more gratefully, acceptably, thanthy Letter. Nothing ever was a greater Pleasure than your Letter. Inever 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 byan Interrogation. " What in Life could be more pleasant than thy Letters?What has happened to me more sweet, than thy Letter? What has everdelighted me like your last Letter? And after this Manner you may varyalmost any Sentence. 

_Ch. _ What shall we do now?

_Au. _ We will now turn the whole Sentence a little more at large, thatwe may express one Sentence, by a Circumlocution of many Words. 

_Ch. _ Give Examples. 

_Au. _ "That which was sometimes express'd by the Noun _incredibile_, andthen again, by the Adverb _incredibiliter_, we will change the Sentencein some Words. " I can't express how much I was delighted with yourLetters. It is very hard for me to write, and you to believe how muchPleasure your Letter was to me. I am wholly unable to express how Irejoic'd at your Letter. "And so _in infinitum_: Again, after anotherManner. For hitherto we have varied the Sentences by Negations andInterrogations, and in the last Place by Infinitives. Now we will varyby Substantives or Conditionals, after this Manner. " Let me die if anyThing ever was more desired and more pleasant than thy Letters. Let meperish if any Thing ever was more desired, and more pleasant than thyLetter. As God shall judge me, nothing in my whole Life ever happen'dmore pleasant than thy Letters. "And also a great many more you maycontrive 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 Writingsseem 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 makeUse 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 withmost delicious Banquets. 

_A Comparison by Simile. _

Thy Writings have been sweeter than either _Ambrosia_ or _Nectar_. ThyLetters have been sweeter to me than any Honey. Your kind Letter hasexcell'd even Liquorish, Locusts, and _Attic_ Honey, and Sugar; nay, even the _Nectar_ and _Ambrosia_ of the Gods. "And here, whatsoever isennobled with Sweetness, may be brought into the Comparison. "

_From Examples. _

I will never be induc'd to believe, that _Hero_ receiv'd the Letters ofher _Leander_, either with greater Pleasure, or more Kisses, than Ireceived yours. I can scarce believe that _Scipio_, for the Overthrow of_Carthage_, or _Paulus Æmylius_, for the taking of _Perseus_, evertriumphed more magnificently than I did, when the Post-man gave me yourmost charming Letter. "There are a thousand Things of this Nature, thatmay be found in Poets and Historians. Likewise Similitudes are borrow'dfrom Natural Philosophy; the Nature of a great many of which, it isnecessary to keep in Memory. Now if you please, we will try in anotherSentence. "

_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, beforeI will to remember you. 

_By Comparisons. _

If the Body can get rid of its Shadow, then this Mind of mine may forgetyou. The River _Lethe_ itself shall never be able to wash away yourMemory. 

"Besides, by an Impossibility, or after the Manner of Poets bycontraries. 

 _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, atthe present let these suffice: At another Time, if you please, we willtalk 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 ifyou shall pursue, I perceive you'll sooner want Time than Words. 

_Au. _ If I can perform this with my little Learning, and indifferentGenius, what do you think _Cicero_ himself could do, who is storied tohave 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 hideourselves 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, whenevery 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 issomething else, in which they take more. For 'tis with Pleasure, as itis 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 athousand other Sorts of People, even to the very Priests and Monks, whofor the Sake of Gain, make Choice of the most populous Cities for theirHabitation, not following the Opinion of _Plato_ or _Pythagoras_ in thisPractice; but rather that of a certain blind Beggar, who loved to bewhere he was crowded; because, as he said, the more People, the moreProfit. 

_Eu. _ Prithee let's leave the blind Beggar and his Gain: We arePhilosophers. 

_Ti. _ So was _Socrates_ a Philosopher, and yet he preferr'd a Town Lifebefore a Country one; because, he being desirous of Knowledge, had therethe Opportunity of improving it. In the Country, 'tis true, there areWoods, Gardens, Fountains and Brooks, that entertain the Sight, butthey are all mute, and therefore teach a Man nothing. 

_Eu. _ I know _Socrates_ puts the Case of a Man's walking alone in theFields; although, in my Opinion, there Nature is not dumb, but talkativeenough, 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 manyexcellent 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 inthe World could be pleasanter than a Country Life. 

_Eu. _ Have you a Mind to make Tryal of it? If you have, come take aDinner with me to Morrow: I have a pretty neat little Country House, alittle 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 suchChear as I need not go to Market for. The Wine is of my own Growth; thePompions, the Melons, the Figs, the Pears, the Apples and Nuts, areoffered to you by the Trees themselves; you need but gape, and they'llfall into your Mouth, as it is in the _fortunate Islands_, if we maygive Credit to _Lucian_. Or, it may be, we may get a Pullet out of theHen-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, asyou 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 bringyour 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 toMorrow Morning, and that you may thank my Country House for. But at whatHour 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 yourWords; but you're twice as welcome for coming so early, and bringing thebest of Company along with you. There are some Persons who are guilty ofan unmannerly Civility, in making their Host wait for them. 

_Ti. _ We came the earlier, that we might have Time enough to view allthe Curiosities of your Palace; for we have heard that it is soadmirably contrived every where, as that it speaks who's the Master ofit. 

_Eu. _ And you will see a Palace worthy of such a Prince. This littleNest is to me more than a Court, and if he may be said to reign thatlives at Liberty according to his Mind, I reign here. But I think itwill be best, while the Wench in the Kitchen provides us a Salad, and itis 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 neatone, and with a pleasing Aspect salutes a Man at his entring in, andbids him welcome. 

_Eu. _ Let every Man gather a Nosegay, that may put by any worse Scent hemay meet with within Doors. Every one likes not the same Scent, therefore let every one take what he likes. Don't be sparing, for thisPlace 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, andother 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'llrefer that to _Theophilus_, who's never without _Greek_ in his Mouth. 

_Th. _ [Greek: Metanoêsate kai epistrepsate. Praxeôn tô tritô. ] _Repentand be converted. _ Acts 3. 19. 

_Ch. _ I'll take the _Hebrew_ upon myself, [Hebrew: vetsadik be'emunatoyihyeh] _And the Just shall live by Faithfulness. _

_Eu. _ Does he seem to be an unmannerly Porter, who at first Dash, bidsus turn from our Iniquities, and apply our selves to Godliness, and thentells us, that Salvation comes not from the Works of the Law; but fromthe 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 upto Heaven, and pointing with his right Hand towards God the Father, andthe holy Spirit; and with his Left, he seems to court and invite allComers. 

_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 toômega. ] In _Hebrew_, [Hebrew: Lechu banim shim'uh li, yr'at adonaialamdeichem] _Come, ye Children, hearken unto me; I will teach you thefear 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 anAcknowledgment, and pray that since we can do nothing of ourselves, hewould vouchsafe of his infinite Goodness to keep us from ever strayingout 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 theGospel to everlasting Life, drawing us of himself to himself. 

_Ti. _ It is most reasonable that we should pray, and the Place invitesus 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. Ihave 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 seea little Fountain pleasantly bubbling with wholsome Waters, this in someMeasure represents that only Fountain of Life, that by its divineStreams, 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 thePsalmist does after the Water Brooks, having tasted of the Flesh ofSerpents. From this Fountain, whoever thirsts, may drink _gratis_. Somemake it a Matter of Religion to sprinkle themselves with it; and othersfor 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 littlesquare Garden that is wall'd in, 'tis a neater one than the other. Whatis to be seen within Doors, you shall see after Dinner, when the Heat ofthe 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 honestPleasure; for the Entertainment of the Sight, the recreating theNostrils, and refreshing the Mind; nothing grows here but sweet Herbs, nor every Sort of them, but only choice ones, and every Kind has its Bedby 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 ismade for Conversation, so that I can never be alone in it, and so you'llsay, when you have seen it all. As the several Plants are as it wereform'd into several Troops, so every Troop has its Standard to itself, with a peculiar Motto, as this Marjoram's is, _Abstine, sus, non tibispiro: Keep off, Sow, I don't breathe my Perfume for thee_; for thoughit 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 thePlant. 

_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 thePlants, and promises them Refreshment against the scorching Heat of theSun. But this little Channel which shews the Water to the Eye soadvantageously, and divides the Garden every where at such equalDistances, that it shews all the Flowers over on both Sides again, as ina Looking-glass, is it made of Marble?

_Eu. _ Marble, quoth thee, how should Marble come hither? It is acounterfeit Marble, made of a sort of Loam, and a whitish Colour givenit 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 ownTurns: After this has pleasured our Eyes, it washes our Kitchen, andpasses 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 hadnot appointed it for this Use. We are then hard-hearted, when we pollutethe Fountain of divine Truth, that is much more pleasant than this, andwas given us for the refreshing and purging our Minds from our Lusts andvicious Appetites, abusing the unspeakable Bounty of God: For we make nobad Use of the Water, if we put it to the several Uses for which heappointed it, who supplies every Thing abundantly for human Use. 

_Ti. _ You say right: But how comes it about, that all your artificialHedges are green too?

_Eu. _ Because I would have every Thing green here. Some are for aMixture of Red, because that sets off Green: But I like this best, asevery Man has his Fancy, though it be but in a Garden. 

_Ti. _ The Garden is very fine of itself; but methinks these three Walkstake 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 atequal 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 beenMarble. 

_Eu. _ For this Reason then, take Care that you neither believe, norswear any Thing rashly: You see how a Man may be mistaken. What I wantin Wealth, I supply by Invention. 

_Ti. _ Could you not be content with so neat, and well furnished a Gardenin 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 viewith the Life; and in one we contemplate the Artifice of Nature, in theother the Skill of the Painter; and in both, the Goodness of God, whogives all Things for our Use, in every Thing equally admirable andamiable: And in the last Place, a Garden is not always green; nor theFlowers 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 arethe 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 theMorning Sun; in that which looks toward the East, I take the Cool of theEvening; in that which looks toward the South, but lies open to theNorth, I take Sanctuary against the Heats of the Meridian Sun; but we'llwalk 'em over, if you please, and take a nearer View of them: See howgreen 'tis under Foot, and you have the Beauty of painted Flowers in thevery Chequers of the Pavement. This Wood, that you see painted upon thisWall, affords me a great Variety of Prospect: For in the first Place, asmany Trees as you see, so many Sorts of Trees you see; and all express'dto the Life. As many Birds as you see, so many Kinds you see; especiallyif there be any scarce Ones, and remarkable upon any Account. For as forGeese, Hens, and Ducks, it is not worth While to draw them. Underneathare four-footed Creatures, or such Birds as live upon the Ground, afterthe 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 throughthe Leaves, what says she?

_Eu. _ She speaks _Greek_; she says, [Greek: Sôphronei, ou pasinhiptêmi], she commands us to act advisedly; _I do not fly to all_;because an inconsiderate Rashness does not fall out happily to allPersons. There is an Eagle quarrying upon a Hare, and a Beetleinterceding to no Purpose; there is a Wren stands by the Beetle, and sheis 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, sherestores 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 hadbeen 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 awild Fig-Tree, and that is his Aversion. He is otherwise harmless; andyet the little gaping Creature has Poison in him too, that you mayn'tcontemn him. 

_Ti. _ But I don't see him change his Colour. 

_Eu. _ True; because he does not change his Place; when he changes hisPlace, 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 theParticulars one by one; it will be enough at present to take a cursoryView of them. You have in the first Spot, all Sorts of famous Plantspainted to the Life: And to increase the Wonder, here are the strongestPoisons in the World, which you may not only look upon, but handle toowithout Danger. 

_Ti. _ Look ye, here is a Scorpion, an Animal very seldom seen in thisCountry; but very frequent in _Italy_, and very mischievous too: But theColour 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 isWolf's-bane, so deadly a Poison, that upon the very touch of it, aScorpion is stupified, grows pale, and yields himself overcome; but whenhe is hurt with one Poison, he seeks his Remedy with another. Do you seethe two Sorts of Hellebore hard by; if the Scorpion can but get himselfclear of the Wolf's-bane, and get to the white Hellebore, he recovershis former Vigour, by the very Touch of a different Poison. 

_Ti. _ Then the Scorpion is undone, for he is never like to get off fromthe 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 theBasilisk, that is not only formidable for his Poison; but the very Flashof his Eyes is also mortal. 

_Ti. _ And he says something too. 

_Eu. _ Yes, he says, _Oderint, dum metuant; Let them hate me, so theyfear me. _

_Ti. _ Spoken like a King entirely. 

_Eu. _ Like a Tyrant rather, not at all like a King. Here a Lizard fightswith a Viper, and here lies the _Dipsas_ Serpent upon the Catch, hidunder the Shell of an _Estridge_ Egg. Here you see the whole Policy ofthe 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 thisEntertainment. 

_Eu. _ And yet at some other Time you shall see I'll give you your Bellyfull 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 naturalFriend to Mankind, fighting with a _Crocodile_, Man's deadly Enemy. Uponthe 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. _ ThePainter has made the Water wonderfully transparent. 

_Eu. _ If he had not done so, we should have wanted other Eyes. Just bythere's another Polypus playing upon the Face of the Sea like a littleCock-Boat; and there you see a Torpedo lying along upon the Sands, bothof 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 notthe 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 anindifferent large Garden parted: The one a Kitchen Garden, that is myWife's and the Family's; the other is a Physick Garden, containing thechoicest physical Herbs. At the left Hand there is an open Meadow, thatis only a green Plot enclos'd with a quick-set Hedge. There sometimes Itake the Air, and divert myself with good Company. Upon the right Handthere's an Orchard, where, when you have Leisure, you shall see a greatVariety of foreign Trees, that I have brought by Degrees to endure thisClimate. 

_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 shewyou after Dinner, and there you'll see various Forms, and hear variousTongues, and their Humours are as various. Among some of them there isan Agreeableness and mutual Love, and among others an irreconcilableAversion: And then they are so tame and familiar, that when I'm atSupper, 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 theDraw-Bridge you see there, talking, perhaps with a Friend, they'll someof them sit hearkening, others of them will perch upon my Shoulders orArms, 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 worthseeing. But I must not show you any more now, that I may have somethingto 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. Myfriends, let us wash, that we may come to the Table with clean Hands aswell 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 inImitation of that sacred Solemnity of our Saviour with his Disciples athis last Supper: And thence comes the Custom of washing of Hands, thatif any Thing of Hatred, Ill-Will, or any Pollution should remain in theMind of any one, he might purge it out, before he sits down at theTable. For it is my Opinion, that the Food is the wholesomer for theBody, 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 tothe Table with a Hymn; and I take it from this, that we frequently readin the Evangelists, that he bless'd or gave Thanks to his Father beforehe broke Bread, and that he concluded with giving of Thanks: And if youplease, I'll say you a Grace that St. _Chrysostom_ commends to the Skiesin 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, andprovidest Food for all Flesh: Fill thou our Hearts with Joy andGladness, that partaking plentifully of thy Bounty, we may abound toevery good Work, through _Christ Jesus_ our Lord, with whom, to thee andthe Holy Ghost, be Glory, Honour, and Power, World without End. _Amen. _

_Eu. _ Now sit down, and let every Man take his Friend next him: Thefirst 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_ mustmake 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 firstPlace. 

_Eu. _ The House is as much yours as mine, Gentlemen; however, if I mayrule within my own Jurisdiction, I'll sit where I please, and I havemade my Choice already. Now may Christ, the Enlivener of all, andwithout whom nothing can be pleasant, vouchsafe to be with us, andexhilarate our Minds by his Presence. 

_Ti. _ I hope he will be pleased so to do; but where shall he sit, forthe 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 Receptionof so divine a Guest, if you will, you shall have some Portion ofScripture read in the Interim; but so that you shall not let that hinderyou from eating your Dinner heartily. 

_Ti. _ We will eat heartily, and attend diligently. 

_Eu. _ This Entertainment pleases me so much the better, because itdiverts vain and frivolous Discourse, and affords Matter of profitableConversation: I am not of their Mind, who think no Entertainmentdiverting, that does not abound with foolish wanton Stories, and bawdySongs. There is pure Joy springs from a clear and pure Conscience; andthose are the happy Conversations, where such Things are mentioned, thatwe can reflect upon afterwards with Satisfaction and Delight; and notsuch as we shall afterwards be ashamed of, and have Occasion to repentof. 

_Ti. _ It were well if we were all as careful to consider those Things aswe are sure they are true. 

_Eu. _ And besides, these Things have not only a certain and valuableProfit in them, but one Month's Use of them, would make them becomepleasant too. 

_Ti. _ And therefore it is the best Course we can take to accustomourselves 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 theRivers of Waters, he turneth it whither soever he will. Every Man isright in his own Eyes, but the Lord pondereth the Hearts. To do Justiceand 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 littlewith 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 myOpinion, it were well if all Persons, but especially Statesmen, had himevery Word by Heart: And as for this little Book of Proverbs, I havealways look'd upon it the best Manual we can carry about with us. 

_Eu. _ I knew our Dinner would be unsavoury, and therefore I procuredthis Sauce. 

_Ti. _ Here is nothing but what is very good; but if you had given usthis Lecture to a Dish of Beets only, without either Pepper, Wine orVinegar, it would have been a delicious Treat. 

_Eu. _ I could commend it with a better Grace, if I did but perfectlyunderstand what I have heard. And I would we had some able Divine amongus, 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 uponthese 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 butthat _Christ_ himself (who has promis'd to be present, where two orthree are gathered together in his Name) may vouchsafe his Assistance tous, that are a much larger Congregation. 

_Eu. _ What if we should take these three Verses, and divide 'em among usnine Guests?

_Guests. _ We like it well, provided the Master of the Feast lead theWay. 

_Eu. _ I would not refuse it; but that I am afraid I shall entertain youworse in my Exposition, than I do in my Dinner: But however, Ceremonyapart, that I may not seem to want much Persuasion, omitting otherMeanings that Interpreters put upon the Place: This seems to me to bethe moral Sense; "That private Men may be wrought upon by Admonition, Reproofs, Laws and Menaces; but Kings who are above Fear, the more theyare opposed, the fiercer their Displeasure; and therefore Kings, asoften as they are resolutely bent upon any, should be left tothemselves: Not in respect of any Confidence of the Goodness of theirInclinations; but because God many Times makes Use of their Follies andWickedness, as the Instruments for the Punishment of the Wicked. " As heforbad that _Nebuchodonosor_ should be resisted, because he haddetermin'd to chastise his People by him, as an Instrument. Andperadventure, that which _Job_ says, looks this Way: _Who maketh theHypocrite reign for the Sins of his People. _ And perhaps, that which_David_ says, bewailing his Sin, has the same Tendency: _Against theeonly have I sinned, and done this Evil in thy Sight:_ Not as if theIniquity of Kings were not fatal to the People; but because there isnone that has Authority to condemn them, but God, from whose Judgmentthere is indeed no Appeal, be the Person never so great. 

_Ti. _ I like the Interpretation well enough thus far; but what is meantby _the Rivers of Waters?_

_Eu. _ There is a Similitude made Use of that explains it. The Wrath of aKing 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 overthe Land, and flows sometimes this Way, and sometimes that Way, notsparing Pastures nor Palaces, and sometimes buries in its own Bowels allthat stands in its Way; and if you should attempt to stop its Course, orto turn it another Way, you may e'en as well let it alone: Whereas, letit but alone, and it will sink of itself, as it happens in many greatRivers, as is storied of _Achelous. _ There is less Injury done byquietly 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: Thesecond, is to tie him up by parliamentary and municipal Laws, that hecan't easily break out into Tyranny: But the best of all would be, totrain him up from his Childhood, in the Principles of Piety and Virtue, and to form his Will, before he understands his Power. Good Counsels andPersuasions go a great Way, provided they be seasonable and gentle. Butthe last Resort must be to beg of God, to incline the King's Heart tothose Things that are becoming a Christian King. 

_Ti. _ Do you excuse yourself, because you are a Layman? If I were aBatchelor 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 ifit were not impious or heretical. However, I have done what you requiredof me; and now, according to the Rules of Conversation, 'tis my Turn tohear your Opinion. 

_Ti. _ The Compliment you pass'd upon my grey Hairs, gives me some kindof Title to speak next to the Text, which will bear yet a moremysterious 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 havewholly subdued his Lusts, and to be led by the Impulse of the DivineSpirit only. Now perhaps it may not be proper to tie up such a Person tothe Conditions of human Laws; but to leave him to his Master, by whom heis govern'd: Nor is he to be judg'd according to the Measures by whichthe Frailty of imperfect Men advances towards true Holiness; but if hesteers another Course, we ought to say with St. _Paul, God hath acceptedhim, 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 Boundsto the Seas and Rivers, hath the Heart of the King in his Hand, andinclines it which Way soever it pleases him: What need is there toprescribe to him, that does of his own accord better Things than humanLaws oblige him to? Or, how great a Rashness were it, to bind thatPerson 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, butyou have likewise a Mind venerable for experimental Knowledge. And Iwould to God, that we had more such Kings as this King of yours amongChristians, who, indeed, all of them ought to be such. But we have dweltlong enough upon our Eggs and Herbs; let them be taken away, andsomething else set in their Room. 

_Ti. _ We have done so well already on this Ovation, that there is noNeed of any more, either of Supplication or Triumph. 

_Eu. _ But since, by God's Assistance, we have succeeded so well in thefirst Verse, I wish your _Umbra_ would explain the other, which seems tome a little more obscure. 

_Soph. _ If you'll put a good Construction upon what I shall say, I willgive you my Thoughts upon it. How else can a Shadow pretend to giveLight to any Thing?

_Eu. _ I undertake that for all the Company; such Shadows as you give asmuch Light as our Eyes will well bear. 

_Soph. _ The same Thing seems to be meant here, that _Paul_ says: _Thatthere are several Ways of Life, that lead to Holiness_. Some affect theMinistry, some Celibacy, others a married State; some a retired Life, others publick Administrations of the Government, according to thevarious Dispositions of their Bodies and Minds: Again, to one Man allMeats are indifferent, another puts a Difference betwixt this Meat andthat; another he makes a Difference of Days, another thinks every Dayalike. In these Things St. _Paul_ would have every one enjoy his ownFreedom of Mind, without reproaching another; nor should we censure anyMan in those Cases, but leave him to be judg'd by him that weigheth theHeart. It oftentimes happens, that he that eats may be more acceptableto God, than he that forbears; and he that breaks a Holy-day, than hethat seems to observe it; and he that marries, is more acceptable toGod, than a great many that live single. I who am but a Shadow, havespoken my Mind. 

_Eu. _ I wish I could have Conversation with such Shadows often. I thinkyou have hit the Nail on the Head: But here is one that has lived aBatchelor, and not of the Number of Saints, who have made themselvesEunuchs for the Sake of the Kingdom of God but was made so by force, togratify our Bellies, _till God shall destroy both them and Meats_. It isa Capon of my own feeding. I am a great Lover of boil'd Meats. This is avery good Soop, and these are choice Lettuces that are in it. Pray everyone help himself to what he likes best. But that you may not bedeceiv'd, I tell you, that we have a Course of Roast a coming, and afterthat 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. Shewould, if she were here, be nothing but a Mute in our Company. She talkswith more Freedom among the Women, and we are more at Liberty tophilosophise. And besides that, there would be Danger, lest we should beserv'd as _Socrates_ was, when he had several Philosophers at Table withhim, who took more Pleasure in talking than they did in eating, and helda 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 ofthe best-humour'd Women in the World. 

_Eu. _ She is such a one indeed, that I should be loath to change her ifI might; and I look upon myself to be very happy upon that Account. Nordo I like their Opinion, who think a Man happy, because he never had aWife; I approve rather what the _Hebrew_ Sage said, _He that has a goodWife has a good Lot_. 

_Ti. _ It is commonly our own Fault, if our Wives be bad, either forloving such as are bad, or making them so; or else for not teaching thembetter. 

_Eu. _ You say very right, but all this While I want to hear the thirdVerse expounded: And methinks the divine _Theophilus_ looks as if he hada Mind to do it. 

_Theo. _ Truly my Mind was upon my Belly; but however, I'll speak myMind, since I may do it without Offence. 

_Eu. _ Nay, it will be a Favour to us if you should happen to be in anyError, because by that Means you will give us Occasion of finding theTruth. 

_Th. _ The Sentence seems to be of the same Importance with that the Lordexpresses by the Prophet _Hosea_, Chap. Vi. _I desire Mercy and notSacrifice, and the Knowledge of God more than Burnt-Offerings_. This isfully 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, withseveral others of the same Stamp and Profession, the _Pharisees_, whowere puff'd up with their external Observance of the Law, without anyRegard to the Precepts of it, whereupon the whole Law and Prophetsdepend, (with a Design to alienate the Affections of his Disciples fromhim) ask'd them, why their Master sat at the Table of Publicans andSinners. From whose Conversation those _Jews_, that would be accountedthe more holy, abstain'd; to that Degree, that if any of the stricterSort had met any of them by Chance, as soon as they came Home they wouldwash themselves. And when the Disciples, being yet but raw, could giveno 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 youand learn what that meaneth, I will have Mercy and not Sacrifice; for Icame not to call the Righteous but Sinners_. 

_Eu. _ Indeed you have very handsomely explain'd the Matter, by thecomparing of Texts, which is the best Way of expounding Scripture. But Iwould fain know what it is he calls Sacrifice, and what Mercy. For howcan we reconcile it, that God should be against Sacrifices, who hadcommanded so many to be offered?

_Th. _ How far God is against Sacrifices, he himself teaches us in thefirst Chapter of the Prophecy of _Isaiah_. There were certain legalObligations among the _Jews_, which were rather Significations ofHoliness, than of the Essence of it; of this Sort are Holy-Days, Sabbatisms, Fasts, Sacrifices; and there were certain other Obligationsof perpetual Force, being good in their own Nature, and not meerly bybeing commanded. Now God was displeased with the _Jews_, not becausethey did observe the Rites and Ceremonies, but because being vainlypuffed up with these, they neglected those Things which God does in amore especial Manner require of us; and wallowing in Avarice, Pride, Rapines, Hatred, Envy, and other Iniquities, they thought they meritedHeaven, because that upon Holy-Days, they visited the Temple, offeredSacrifices, abstained from forbidden Meats, and frequently fasted;embracing the Shadow of Religion, and neglecting the Substance. But inthat, he says, _I will have Mercy, and not Sacrifice_; I take it to besaid 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 thanSacrifices_. And again, the Scripture expresses all the charitableOffices to our Neighbour, under the Terms of Mercy, and eleemosynaryTenderness, which takes its Name from Pity. By Sacrifices, I suppose isintended, whatsoever respects corporal Ceremonies, and has any Affinitywith Judaism, such as are the choice of Meats, appointed Garments, Fasting, Sacrifices, the saying over of Prayers, as a Boy says hisLesson: resting upon Holy-Days. These Things, as they are not to beneglected in their due Season, so they become displeasing to God, if aMan relying too much upon these Observances, shall neglect to do Acts ofMercy, as often as his Brother's Necessity requires it. And it has someAppearance 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'dof shewing Charity to our Neighbour. It is a Point of Obedience to restupon Holy Days: But it would be very impious to make such a Conscienceof a Day as to suffer a Brother to perish upon it. Therefore to keep theLord's Day is a Kind of _Sacrifice_: But to be reconcil'd to my Brotheris a Point of _Mercy_. And then, as for _Judgment_, though that may seemto respect Persons in Power; who oftentimes oppress the weak therewith, yet it seems reasonable enough in my Opinion that the poor Man shouldremind him of that in _Hosea, And the Knowledge of God more than burntOfferings_. No Man can be said to keep the Law of God, but he that keepsit according to the Mind of God. The _Jews_ could lift up an Ass uponthe Sabbath that was fallen into a Pit, and yet calumniated our Saviourfor preserving a Man upon that Day. This was a preposterous Judgment, and not according to the Knowledge of God; for they did not considerthat these Things were made for Man, and not Man for them. But I shouldhave esteem'd it Presumption in me to have said these Things, if you hadnot commanded it; and I had rather learn of others Things more _àpropos_. 

_Eu. _ This is so far from being a Presumption, that it looks rather likean Inspiration. But while we are thus plentifully feeding our Souls, wemust not neglect their Companions. 

_Ti. _ Who are those?

_Eu. _ Our Bodies; are not they the Soul's Companions? I had rather callthem so, than Instruments, Habitations or Sepulchres. 

_Ti. _ This is certainly to be plentifully refresh'd when the whole Manis refresh'd. 

_Eu. _ I see you are very backward to help yourselves; therefore, if youplease, I'll order the Roast-Meat to be brought us, lest instead of agood Entertainment I should treat you with a long one. Now you see yourOrdinary. Here is a Shoulder of Mutton, but it is a very fine one, aCapon 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 toit. 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 thevery 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 commonThing, if Persons get a Fever or the Head-ach by over drinking, to layit upon the Wine, when they have brought it upon themselves by theirExcess. 

_Soph. _ Mine speaks _Greek_. [Greek: En oinô alêtheia. ] _In Wine there'sTruth_ (when Wine is in the Wit is out. )

_Eu. _ This gives us to understand that it is not safe for Priests orPrivy-Counsellors to give themselves so to Wine, because Wine commonlybrings that to the Mouth that lay conceal'd in the Heart. 

_Soph. _ In old Time among the _Egyptians_ it was unlawful for theirPriests to drink any Wine at all, and yet in those Days there was noauricular Confession. 

_Eu. _ It is now become lawful for all Persons to drink Wine, but howexpedient it is I know not. What Book is that, _Eulalius_, you take outof 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 belovedEntertainment, which I take out now upon the Occasion of something yousaid, which minds me of a Place that I have beat my Brains about a longTime, and I am not come to a full Satisfaction in yet. It is in the 6thChapter of the first Epistle to the _Corinthians_, _All Things arelawful for me, but all Things are not expedient; all Things are lawfulfor me, but I will not be brought under the Power of any_. In the firstPlace (if we will believe the Stoicks) nothing can be profitable to us, that is not honest: How comes _Paul_ then to distinguish betwixt thatwhich 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 ofsome particular Things only, which he would have to be lawful, I can'tguess 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 theChoice of Meats. For some abstain from Things offer'd to Idols, andothers from Meats forbidden by _Moses_'s Law. In the 8th Chapter hetreats of Things offer'd to Idols, and in the 10th Chapter explainingthe Meaning of this Place, says, _All Things are lawful for me, but allThings are not expedient; all Things are lawful for me, but all Thingsedify 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 theBelly for Meats; but God shall destroy both it and them_. Now that whichhas Respect to the _Judaical_ Choice of Meats, is in the Close of the10th 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, notseeking 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 toThings offer'd to Idols; and where he speaketh to the _Jews_ he seems torefer to the Choice of Meats; what he says to the Church of Godappertains to the Weak, collected out of both Sorts. It was lawful, itseems, to eat of all Meats whatsoever, and all Things that are Clean tothe Clean. But the Question remaining is, Whether it be expedient or no?The Liberty of the Gospel makes all Things lawful; but Charity hasalways a Regard to my Neighbour's Good, and therefore often abstainsfrom Things lawful, rather chasing to condescend to what is foranother's Advantage, than to make Use of its own Liberty. But now herearises a double Difficulty; first, that here is nothing that eitherprecedes or follows in the Context that agrees with this Sense. For hechides the _Corinthians_ for being Seditious, Fornicators, Adulterers, and given to go to Law before wicked Judges. Now what Coherence is therewith this to say, _All Things are lawful for me, but all Things are notexpedient_? And in the following Matter, he returns to the Case of_Incontinence_, which he had also repeated before, only leaving out theCharge of Contention: _But the Body_, says he, _is not for Fornication, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the Body. _ But however, this Scruplemay be solv'd too, because a little before, in the Catalogue of Sins, hehad made Mention of Idolatry. _Be not deceived, neither Fornicators, norIdolaters, nor Adulterers_; now the Eating of Things offer'd to Idols isa certain Kind of Idolatry, and therefore he immediately subjoins, _Meatis for the Belly, and the Belly for Meat_. Intimating, that in a Case ofNecessity, and for a Season, a Man may eat any Thing, unless Charitytowards his Neighbour shall dissuade it: But that Uncleanness is in allPersons, and at all Times to be detested. It is Matter of Necessity thatwe eat, but that Necessity shall be taken away at the Resurrection ofthe Dead. But if we are lustful, that proceeds from Wickedness. Butthere is another Scruple that I can't tell how to solve, or how toreconcile to that Passage: _But I will not be brought under the Power ofany_. For he says, he has the Power of all Things, and yet he will notbe brought under the Power of any one. If he may be said to be underanother Man's Power, that abstains for Fear of offending, it is what hespeaks of himself in the ninth Chapter, _For though I be free from allMen, yet have made myself Servant to all, that I may gain all. _ St. _Ambrose_ stumbling, I suppose, at this Scruple, takes this to be theApostle's genuine Sense for the better Understanding of what he says inthe 9th Chapter, where he claims to himself the Power of doing thatwhich the rest of the Apostles (either true or false) did, of receivinga Maintenance from them to whom he preach'd the Gospel. But he forborethis, although he might have done it, as a Thing expedient among the_Corinthians_, whom he reprov'd for so many and enormous Iniquities. Andmoreover, he that receives, is in some Degree in the Power of him fromwhom he receives, and suffers some Kind of Abatement in his Authority. For he that takes, cannot so freely reprove his Benefactor; and he thatgives will not so easily take a Reprehension from him that he hasobliged. And in this did the Apostle _Paul_ abstain from that which waslawful, for the Credit of his apostolical Liberty, which in this Case hewould not have to be rendered obnoxious to any one, that he might withthe greater Freedom and Authority reprehend their Vices. Indeed, I likethis Explication of St. _Ambrose_ very well. But yet, if any Body hadrather apply this Passage to Meats, St. _Paul_'s, Saying, _but I willnot be brought under the Power of any_, may be taken in this Sense:Although I may sometimes abstain from Meats offered to Idols, orforbidden by the _Mosaical_ Law, out of Regard to the Salvation of myBrothers 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 tothe Necessity of the Body. But there were some false Apostles, who wentabout to persuade them, that some Meats, were in themselves, by theirown Nature unclean, and were to be forborn, not upon Occasion only, butat all Times; and that as strict as Adultery or Murder. Now those thatwere thus misled, were reduced under another's Power, and fell fromtheir Gospel Liberty. _Theophylact_ (as I remember) is the only Man thatadvances 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 haveacquainted you with my Scruples, it will become your Charity to set meto Rights. 

_Eu. _ Your Discourse is, indeed, answerable to your Name, and one thatknows how to propound Questions as you do, has no Need of any Body toanswer them but himself. For you have so proposed your Doubts, as to putone quite out of doubt, altho' St. _Paul_, in that Epistle, (proposingto handle many Things at once) passes often from one Argument toanother, repeating what he had intermitted. 

_Ch. _ If I were not afraid, that by my Loquacity I should divert youfrom eating your Dinners, and did think it were lawful to intermix anyThing out of profane Authors with sacred Discourses, I would venture topropose something that I read to Day; not so much with Perplexity, aswith a singular Delight. 

_Eu. _ Whatsoever is pious, and conduces to good Manners, ought not to becalled profane. The first Place must indeed be given to the Authority ofthe Scriptures; but nevertheless, I sometimes find some Things said orwritten by the Antients; nay, even by the Heathens; nay, by the Poetsthemselves, so chastly, so holily, and so divinely, that I cannotpersuade myself, but that when they wrote them, they were divinelyinspired; and perhaps the Spirit of Christ diffuses itself farther thanwe imagine; and that there are more Saints than we have in ourCatalogue. To confess freely among Friends, I can't read _Tully_ of _OldAge_, of _Friendship_, his _Offices_, or his _Tusculan Questions_, without kissing the Book, and Veneration for that divine Soul. And onthe contrary, when I read some of our modern Authors, treating of_Politics, Oeconomics_ and _Ethics_, good God! how cold they are inComparison of these? Nay, how do they seem to be insensible of what theywrite themselves? So that I had rather lose _Scotus_ and twenty moresuch as he, than one _Cicero_ or _Plutarch_. Not that I am whollyagainst them neither; but because, by the reading of the one, I findmyself become better; whereas, I rise from the other, I know not howcoldly affected to Virtue, but most violently inclin'd to Cavil andContention; therefore never fear to propose it, whatsoever it is. 

_Ch. _ Although all _Tully_'s Books of Philosophy seem to breathe outsomething divine; yet that Treatise of _Old Age_, that he wrote in oldAge, seems to me to be according to the _Greek_ Proverb; _the Song ofthe dying Swan_. I was reading it to Day, and these Words pleasing meabove the rest, I got 'em by Heart: _Should it please God to give me aGrant to begin my Life again from my very Cradle, and once more to runover the Course of my Years I have lived, I would not upon any Termsaccept of it: Nor would I, having in a Manner finished my Race, run itover again from the starting Place to the Goal: For what Pleasure hasthis Life in it? nay, rather, what Pain has it not? But if there werenot, there would be undoubtedly in it Satiety or Trouble. I am not forbewailing 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 amsatisfy'd I have not liv'd in vain. And when I leave this Life, I leaveit as an Inn, and not as a Place of Abode. For Nature has given us ourBodies as an Inn to lodge in, and not to dwell in. O! glorious Day willthat be, when I shall leave this Rabble-rout and Defilements of theWorld behind me, to go to that Society and World of Spirits!_ Thus farout of _Cato_. What could be spoken more divinely by a Christian? I wishall the Discourses of our Monks, even with their holy Virgins, were suchas 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 aFiction. 

_Ch. _ It is all one to me, whether the Honour of these Expressions begiven to _Cato_, who thought and spoke them, or to _Cicero_, whose Mindcould form such divine Things in Contemplation, and whose Pen couldrepresent such excellent Matter in Words so answerable to it; thoughindeed I am apt to think that _Cato_, if he did not speak these veryWords, yet that in his familiar Conversation he us'd Words of the verysame Import. For indeed, _M. Tully_ was not a Man of that Impudence, todraw _Cato_ otherwise than he was. Beside, that such an Unlikeness in aDialogue would have been a great Indecorum, which is the thing chieflyto be avoided in this Sort of Discourse; and especially, at a Time whenhis Character was fresh in the Memories of all Men. 

_Th. _ That which you say is very likely: But I'll tell you what cameinto my Mind upon your Recital. I have often admired with myself, thatconsidering 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 runover the same good and ill Fortune that he had before, he would not makethe same Answer that _Cato_ did; especially passing a true Reflectionupon the Mixture of Good and Ill of his past Life. For the Remembranceeven of the pleasantest Part of it is commonly attended with Shame, andSting of Conscience, insomuch that the Memory of past Delights is morepainful to us, than that of past Misfortunes. Therefore it was wiselydone of the ancient Poets in the Fable of _Lethe_, to represent the Deaddrinking largely of the Waters of Forgetfulness, before their Souls wereaffected with any Desire of the Bodies they had left behind them. 

_Ur. _ It is a Thing well worthy of our Admiration, and what I myselfhave observ'd in some Persons. But that in _Cato_ that pleases me themost is his Declaration. _Neither am I sorry that I have liv'd. _ Whereis the _Christian_, that has so led his Life, as to be able to say asmuch as this old Man? It is a common Thing for Men, who have scrap'dgreat Estates together by Hook or by Crook, when they are upon theirDeath Beds, and about to leave them, then to think they have not liv'din 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 honestand useful Citizen, and an uncorrupted Magistrate; and that he shouldleave to Posterity, Monuments of his Virtue and Industry. And what couldbe spoken more divinely than this, _I depart as from an Inn, and not anHabitation_. So long we may stay in an Inn till the Host bids us begone, but a Man will not easily be forc'd from his own House. And yetfrom 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 oldAge, 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 aGarrison, 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 thatplac'd him there. _ This Allusion of _Plato'_s, of a Garrison instead ofa House, is the more significant of the two. For in a House is onlyimply'd Abode, in a Garrison we are appointed to some Duty by ourGovernor. And much to the same Purpose is it, that in Holy Writ the Lifeof 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 thatof St. _Paul_, who writing to the _Corinthians_, calls that heavenlyMansion, which we look for after this Life in one Place [Greek: oikian]a House, in another [Greek: oikêtêrion] a Mansion, and moreover (besidesthat) 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 puttingyou in Mind, being assured that I shall shortly put off thisTabernacle. _ And what else does _Christ_ himself say to us, but that weshould live and watch, as if we were presently to die: And so applyourselves to honest Things, as if we were to live for ever? And when wehear these excellent Words of _Cato, O that glorious Day_, do we notseem to hear St. _Paul_ himself saying, _I desire to be dissolved, andto 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, methinksthere is more Boldness and Arrogance in it, than becomes a Christian. Indeed, I never read anything in a Heathen, that comes nearer to aChristian, than what _Socrates_ said to _Crito_, a little before hedrank his Poison; _Whether I shall be approv'd or not in the Sight ofGod, I cannot tell; but this I am certain of, that I have mostaffectionately endeavoured to please him; and I have a good Hope, thathe will accept of my Endeavours. _ This great Man was diffident of hisown Performances; but so, that being conscious to himself of thePropensity of his Inclination to obey the divine Will, he conceived agood Hope, that God, of his Goodness, would accept him for the Honestyof his Intentions. 

_Neph. _ Indeed, it was a wonderful Elevation of Mind in a Man, that knewnot Christ, nor the holy Scriptures: And therefore, I can scarceforbear, when I read such Things of such Men, but cry out, _SancteSocrates, ora pro nobis; Saint_ Socrates, _pray for us. _

_Ch. _ And I have much ado sometimes to keep myself from entertaininggood Hopes of the Souls of _Virgil_ and _Horace. _

_Neph. _ But how unwillingly have I seen many Christians die? Some puttheir Trust in Things not to be confided in; others breathe out theirSouls in Desperation, either out of a Consciousness of their lewd Lives, or by Reason of Scruples that have been injected into their Minds, evenin their dying Hours, by some indiscreet Men. 

_Ch. _ It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent their Time inphilosophizing 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, butrather highly approve of them; but I blame a wicked and superstitiousSort of People, or (to put it in the softest Term) the simple andunlearned Persons, who teach People to put their Confidence in theseThings, 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'tyou find they live as if the whole Sum of Religion consisted inCeremonies? With how much Pomp are the antient Rites of the Church setforth in Baptism? The Infant waits without the Church Door, the Exorcismis performed, the Catechizing is performed, Vows are made, Satan isabjured, 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 seeit well brought up; and the Oblation-Money being paid, they aredischarged, and by this Time the Child passes for a Christian, and insome Sense is so. A little Time after, it is anointed again, and in Timelearns to confess, receives the Sacrament, is accustom'd to rest uponHoly-Days, to hear Divine Service, to fast sometimes, to abstain fromFlesh; and if he observes all these, he passes for an absoluteChristian. He marries a Wife, and then comes on another Sacrament; heenters into Holy Orders, is anointed again, and consecrated, his Habitis chang'd, and then to Prayers. Now I approve of the doing of all thiswell enough; but the doing of them more out of Custom than Conscience, Idon't approve; but to think that nothing else is requisite for themaking a Christian, I absolutely disapprove: For the greatest Part ofMen in the World trust to these Things, and think they have nothing elseto do, but get Wealth by Right or Wrong, to gratify their Passions ofRage, Lust, Malice, Ambition: And this they do till they come upon theirDeath Bed; and then there follows more Ceremonies; Confession uponConfession, more Unction still, the Eucharist is administred; Tapers, the Cross, holy Water are brought in; Indulgencies are procured, if theyare to be had for Love or Money; Orders are given for a magnificentFuneral; and then comes on another solemn Contract: When the Man is inthe Agony of Death, there's one stands by bawling in his Ear, and nowand then dispatches him before his Time, if he chance to be a little inDrink, or have better Lungs than ordinary. Now although these Things maybe well enough, as they are done in Conformity to ecclesiasticalCustoms; yet there are some more internal Impressions, which have anEfficacy to fortify us against the Assaults of Death, by filling ourHearts with Joy, and helping us to go out of the World with a ChristianAssurance. 

_Eu. _ You speak very piously and truly; but in the mean Time here is noBody eats; I told you before, that you must expect nothing after thesecond Course, and that a Country one too, lest any Body should look forPheasants, Moorhens, and fine Kickshaws. Here, Boy! take away theseThings, and bring up the rest. You see, not the Affluence, but theStraitness of my Fortune. This is the Product of my Gardens you haveseen; 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 wouldhave chear'd up the Heart of old _Hilarion_, the evangelical Monk, witha 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, whenhe lodg'd at _Simon_ the Tanner's. 

_Eu. _ Yes; and _Paul_ too, I believe, when by Reason of Poverty he satup a-Nights to make Tents. 

_Ti. _ How much do we owe to the Goodness of God! But yet, I had rathersuffer Hunger with _Peter_ and _Paul_, upon Condition, that what Iwanted 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 sufferWant. When we want, let us praise God, that he has afforded us Matter toexercise our Frugality and Patience upon: When we abound, let us bethankful for his Munificence, who by his Liberality, invites andprovokes us to love him; and using those Things the divine Bounty hasplentifully bestowed upon us, with Moderation and Temperance; let us bemindful of the Poor, whom God has been pleas'd to suffer to want what hehas made abound to us, that neither Side may want an Occasion ofexercising Virtue: For he bestows upon us sufficient for the Relief ofour Brother's Necessity, that we may obtain his Mercy, and that the Pooron the other Hand, being refresh'd by our Liberality, may give himThanks for putting it into our Hearts, and recommend us to him in theirPrayers; 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 Womanin the Neighbourhood big with Child, her Husband is lately dead, aprofuse, lazy Fellow, that has left nothing but a Stock of Children. 

_Ti. _ Christ has commanded _to give to every one that asks_; but if Ishould 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 tothem who ask, nay, who importune, or rather extort great Sums fromPeople to furnish voluptuous Entertainments, or, which is worse, to feedLuxury and Lust, it is Charity to deny; nay, it is a Kind of Rapine tobestow that which we owe to the present Necessity of our Neighbours, upon those that will abuse it; upon this Consideration it is, that itseems to me, that they can scarcely be excus'd from being guilty of amortal Sin, who at a prodigious Expence, either build or beautifyMonasteries or Churches, when in the mean Time so many living Temples ofChrist are ready to starve for Want of Food and Clothing, and are sadlyafflicted with the Want of other Necessaries. When I was in _England_, Isaw St. _Thomas_'s, Tomb all over bedeck'd with a vast Number of Jewelsof an immense Price, besides other rich Furniture, even to Admiration; Ihad rather that these Superfluities should be apply'd to charitableUses, than to be reserv'd for Princes, that shall one Time or other makea Booty of them. The holy Man, I am confident, would have been betterpleas'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 whiteMarble, and almost all that is in it, as Altars, Pillars, and Tombs, areall Marble. To what Purpose was it to be at such a vast Expence upon aMarble Temple, for a few solitary Monks to sing in? And 'tis moreBurthen to them than Use too, for they are perpetually troubled withStrangers, that come thither, only out of mere Curiosity, to see theMarble Temple. And that, which is yet more ridiculous, I was told there, that there is an Endowment of three thousand Ducats a Year for keepingthe Monastery in Repair. And there are some that think that it isSacrilege, 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 tomention these, being something more remarkable than ordinary; tho' wehave a World of Instances of this Kind up and down in our Churches. This, in my Opinion, is rather Ambition than Charity. Rich Mennow-a-Days will have their Monuments in Churches, whereas in Times pastthey could hardly get Room for the Saints there: They must have theirImages there, and their Pictures, forsooth, with their Names at length, their Titles, and the Inscription of their Donation; and this takes up aconsiderable Part of the Church; and I believe in Time they'll be forhaving their Corpse laid even in the very Altars themselves. Butperhaps, 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 beworthy of it. But if I were a Priest or a Bishop, I would put it intothe Heads of those thick-scull'd Courtiers or Merchants, that if theywould atone for their Sins to Almighty God, they should privately bestowtheir Liberality upon the Relief of the Poor. But they reckon all aslost, that goes out so by Piece-meal, and is privily distributed towardthe Succour of the Needy, that the next Age shall have no Memorial ofthe Bounty. But I think no Money can be better bestow'd, than that whichChrist himself would have put to his Account, and makes himself Debtorfor. 

_Ti. _ Don't you take that Bounty to be well plac'd that is bestow'd uponMonasteries?

_Eu. _ Yes, and I would be a Benefactor myself, if I had an Estate thatwould allow it; but it should be such a Provision for Necessaries, asshould not reach to Luxury. And I would give something too, wheresoeverI found a religious Man that wanted it. 

_Ti. _ Many are of Opinion, that what is given to common Beggars, is notwell bestowed. 

_Eu. _ I would do something that Way too; but with Discretion: But in myOpinion, it were better if every City were to maintain their own Poor;and Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars were not suffer'd to strole about, whowant Work more than Money. 

_Ti. _ To whom then would you in an especial Manner give? How much? Andto 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, andafter that, the Proportion must be according to my Ability, asOpportunity should offer; and especially to those whom I know to be poorand honest; and when my own Purse fail'd me, I would exhort others toCharity. 

_Ti. _ But will you give us Leave now to discourse freely in yourDominions?

_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 thisHouse might have been built for less than it was. 

_Eu. _ Indeed, I think this House of mine to be within the Compass ofcleanly and convenient, far from Luxury, or I am mistaken. Some thatlive by begging, have built with more State; and yet, these Gardens ofMine, such as they are, pay a Tribute to the Poor; and I daily lessen myExpence, and am the more frugal in Expence upon myself and Family, thatI may contribute the more plentifully to them. 

_Ti. _ If all Men were of your Mind, it would be better than it is with agood many People who deserve better, that are now in extreme Want; andon the other Hand, many of those pamper'd Carcases would be broughtdown, who deserve to be taught Sobriety and Modesty by Penury. 

_Eu. _ It may be so: but shall I mend your mean Entertainment now, withthe 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 neverso full, won't over-charge your Stomachs. 

_Ti. _ What is it?

_Eu. _ The Book of the four Evangelists, that I may treat you with thebest 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 andlove 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 nothought for your Life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink: Noryet for your Body, what you shall put on. Is not the Life more thanMeat, and the Body than Raiment?_

_Eu. _ Give me the Book. In this Place _Jesus Christ_ seems to me, tohave said the same Thing twice: For instead of what he had said in thefirst Place, _i. E. _ _he will hate_; he says immediately, _he willdespise_. And for what he had said before, _he will love_, he by and byturns it, _he will hold to_. The Sense is the same, tho' the Persons arechang'd. 

_Ti. _ I do not very well apprehend what you mean. 

_Eu. _ Let me, if you please, demonstrate it mathematically. In the firstPart, 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_ willdespise. Is it not plain now, that _A_ is twice hated, and _B_ twicebeloved?

_Ti. _ 'Tis very clear. 

_Eu. _ This Conjunction, _or_, especially repeated, has the Emphasis of acontrary, or at least, a different Meaning. Would it not be otherwiseabsurd to say, _Either_ Peter _shall overcome me, and I'll yield; orI'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 itout: I can't tell what to make on't, but let it be what it will, youshall have it if you please; if it be a Dream, you shall be theInterpreters, or midwife it into the World. 

_Eu. _ Although it is looked upon to be unlucky to talk of Dreams atTable, and it is immodest to bring forth before so many Men; but thisDream, or this Conception of thy Mind, be it what it will, let us haveit. 

_The. _ In my Judgment it is rather the Thing than the Person that ischang'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; sothat chuse which you will, it must be opposed to that, which issignified 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 theThing chang'd, and the Person the same: And it is so spoken of _A_, thatit 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: NoMathematician could have demonstrated it better upon a Slate. 

_Soph. _ That which is the greatest Difficulty to me is this; that we areforbidden to take Thought for to Morrow; when yet, _Paul_ himselfwrought with his own Hands for Bread, and sharply rebukes lazy People, and those that live upon other Men's Labour, exhorting them to takePains, and get their Living by their Fingers Ends, that they may havewherewith to relieve others in their Necessities. Are not they holy andwarrantable Labours, by which a poor Husband provides for his dear Wifeand Children?

_Ti. _ This is a Question, which, in my Opinion, may be resolv'd severalWays. First of all, This Text had a particular Respect to those Times. The Apostles being dispers'd far and wide for the Preaching of theGospel, all sollicitous Care for a Maintenance was to be thrown aside, it being to be supply'd otherwise, having not Leisure to get theirLiving by their Labour; and especially, they having no Way of gettingit, but by Fishing. But now the World is come to another Pass, and weall love to live at Ease, and shun Painstaking. Another Way ofexpounding it may be this; Christ had not forbid Industry, but Anxietyof Thought, and this Anxiety of Thought is to be understood according tothe Temper of Men in common, who are anxious for nothing more thangetting a Livelihood; that setting all other Things aside, this is theonly Thing they mind. And our Saviour does in a Manner intimate the samehimself, when he says, that one Man cannot serve two Masters. For hethat wholly gives himself up to any Thing, is a Servant to it. Now hewould have the Propagation of the Gospel be our chief, but yet, not ouronly Care. For he says, _Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and theseThings shall be added unto you_. He does not say, seek only; but seekfirst. And besides, I take the Word to Morrow, to be hyperbolical, andin that, signifies a Time to come, a great While hence, it being theCustom 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 hesays, _Be not sollicitous for your Life, what you shall eat_? The Bodyis cloth'd, but the Soul does not eat. 

_Ti. _ By _Anima_, is meant Life, which can't subsist without Meat (or isin Danger, if you take away its Food): But it is not so, if you takeaway the Garment, which is more for Modesty than Necessity. If a Personis forc'd to go naked, he does not die presently; but Want of Food iscertain Death. 

_Eu. _ I do not well understand how this Sentence agrees with that whichfollows; _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 lessenit. 

_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 bountifulFather hath given us _gratis_ that which is the more valuable, he willalso 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 someMeans or other give us Cloaths too: Therefore, relying upon his Bounty, we have no Reason to disquiet ourselves with Anxiety of Thought, forThings of smaller Moment. What remains then, but using this World, asthough we used it not, we transfer our whole Study and Application tothe Love of heavenly Things, and rejecting the World and the Deviluniversally, with all his crafty Delusions, we chearfully serve Godalone, who will never forsake his Children? But all this While, here'sno Body touches the Fruits. Certainly you may eat this with Joy, forthis is the Product of my own Farm, and did not cost much Care toprovide 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 uswash, that if we have in eating contracted any Guilt, being cleansed, wemay conclude with a Hymn: If you please, I'll conclude with what I begunout 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, OKing; as thou hast given us Meat for our Bodies, so replenish our Soulswith Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be foundacceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shaltrender 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 informedof one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these threeDenominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_. 

_Eu. _ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these threeRespects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holyBlood 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 wemight follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for theReward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of Godthe Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, thatwe have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be aTyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of theFilth 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 youwithout Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been. Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will drawLots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that isto say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, ahundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are fourlittle Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will bemore agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses. 

_Ti. _ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but doyou distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come thewelcomer where they fall. 

_Eu. _ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, itteaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom. This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to theDoctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be givenand 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 beso good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of thatprecious 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; itdeserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were afitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may bemore and more like to your Name. 

_The. _ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present illbestow'd. 

_Eu. _ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions, _Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in yourMouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: Andnow for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in yourHand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into theBargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel. 

_Eu. _ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiableReader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books. 

_Ch. _ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and inthe next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance. 

_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and toexcellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, bywhich the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, andthat by such an Artist. 

_The. _ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as youhave with Instruments. 

_Eu. _ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books ofMorals, 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, howsuch evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This Iwill present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as athrifty Dispenser of his Time. 

_Neph. _ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but yourCompliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, asPanegyricks. 

_Eu. _ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these smallMatters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'dby your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment mayhave upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiserand better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, andmuch less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hourin 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 youhave seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; andwhich Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Greenbefore you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by puttingdown the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun isincommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thinones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in myGarden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and theirFlowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviourcelebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ akeeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'din 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 bereceiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom. 

_Ti. _ We don't very well know this Story. 

_Eu. _ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be mostluxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth herHand 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 fromGluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'dwith very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones. 

_Ti. _ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is soshining. 

_Eu. _ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing atthe Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Pieceof Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully forthe Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospectof the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions ofit describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have thePictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Paintingthem all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, andstretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice, saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in aGlory, 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 neatone; 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 prettyScent. 

_Eu. _ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and boththese may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery thatlooks 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 haveseen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have aProspect 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, becausethere 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 theMission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles outof the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator maysee 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 youhave the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out ofthe Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christand Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursingwith myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, ingiving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears meCompany, 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 withtheir Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Cæsars_, for thebetter taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is aLodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of myOrchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow, is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and Imake Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, withany infectious Disease. 

_Ti. _ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to beavoided. 

_Eu. _ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this theless, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that aBasilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would notstick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, isRashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wifeshall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and makemy House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a littleBusiness 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 littleMoney. 

_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'tthink he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'llgo 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 atodds, 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 beof ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in theWorld, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my huntingMatch, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink theirHealths. 

_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 leftme 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 wereyour 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 agadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we shouldhave nothing to do with any Thing that is new. 

_Po. _ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be aMan, ) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always tofeed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine. 

_Br. _ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love oldThings so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh thanstale. 

_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 isnaught. 

_Po. _ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Thingsbe good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence, that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and thatwhich is now bad, will in Time come to be good. 

_Br. _ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; andtherefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool inTime past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he isgrown 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_, isdeparted this Life. 

_Po. _ For certain?

_Br. _ Nay, it is too certain. 

_Po. _ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortalMemory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of thismiserable 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 promiseSilence. 

_Po. _ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon myhonest 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 honestMen should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Manaccounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own. 

_Po. _ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of truePiety. 

_Br. _ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know theMan. 

_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. MyFriend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there wassome Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, besick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he mightease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend wassick, 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 Manindeed. 

_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? Forbut two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, sayshe, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don'tweep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before youhave 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. ThisMorning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into agentle pleasant Slumber. 

_Po. _ My Mind presages some joyful Thing. 

_Br. _ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standingby a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; theemerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charmingProspect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like littleStars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all theFields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was dividedfrom 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 upwith the Prospect, _Reuclin_, as good Luck would have it, came by; andas he past by, gave me his Blessing in _Hebrew_. He was gotten half Wayover the Bridge before I perceived him, and as I was about to run tohim, he look'd back, and bid me keep off. You must not come yet, sayshe, but five Years hence, you shall follow me. In the mean Time, do youstand by a Spectator, and a Witness of what is done. Here I put in aWord, 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 verywhite one; you would have said, it had been a Damask, of a wonderfulshining White, and a very pretty Boy with Wings followed him, which Itook 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 followedhim a great Way off, some Birds, that were all over Black, except, thatwhen they spread their Wings, they seem'd to have Feathers, of a Mixtureof White and Carnation. He said, that by their Colour and Cry, one mighthave taken them for Magpies, but that they were sixteen Times as big;about the size of Vultures, having Combs upon their Heads, with crookedBeaks and Gorbellies. If there had been but three of them, one wouldhave 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 Handat them, he said, _Be gone, ye cursed Fiends to a Place that's fitterfor you. You have Work enough to do among Mortals, your Madness has noPower over me, that am now lifted in the Roll of Immortality. _ TheWords were no sooner out of his Mouth, says the Franciscan, but thesefilthy Birds took their Flight, but left such a Stink behind them, thata House of Office would have seem'd Oyl of sweet Marjoram, or Ointmentof Spikenard to it. He swore, he had rather go to Hell, than snuff upsuch a Perfume again. 

_Po. _ A Curse upon these Pests. 

_Br. _ But, hear what the Franciscan told me besides: While I was intentupon these Things, says he, St. _Jerome_ was come close to the Bridge, and saluted _Reuclin_ in these Words, _God save thee, my most holyCompanion, I am ordered to conduct thee to the Mansions of the blessedSouls above, which the divine Bounty has appointed thee as a Reward forthy most pious Labours. _ With that he took out a Garment, and put itupon _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 allthese, said he; but his Person was comely, which made his Age appearsuch as carried in it much Comeliness, but no Deformity. What Need hadhe to have a Lion by his Side, as he is commonly painted? His Gown camedown to his Heels, as transparent as Crystal, and of the same Fashion ofthat he gave to _Reuclin_. It was all over painted with Tongues of threeseveral Colours; some imitated Rubies, some Emeralds, and othersSapphires; and beside the Clearness of it, the Order set it off verymuch. 

_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 theGarments were the Characters of these three Languages inscrib'd in theirdifferent Colours. 

_Po. _ Had _Jerome_ no Company with him?

_Br. _ No Company, do you say? The whole Field swarm'd with Myriads ofAngels, that fill'd the Air as thick, as those little Corpuscles theycall 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 noHeaven nor Earth to have been seen. 

_Po. _ O brave, I am glad with all my Heart, for _Reuclin_'s, Sake; butwhat follow'd?

_Br. Jerome_, (says he) for Honour's Sake, giving _Reuclin_ theRight-Hand, and embracing him, conducts him into the Meadow, and up aHill that was in the middle of it, where they kiss'd and embrac'd oneanother again: In the mean Time, the Heavens open'd over their Heads toa prodigious Wideness, and there appear'd a Glory so unutterable, asmade every Thing else, that pass'd for wonderful before, to look meanand 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, thathe was not able to express the very Dream of it. He said, he would die athousand 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 greatPillar of Fire that was transparent, and of a very pleasant Form: Bythis the two holy Souls were carried into Heaven, in one anothersEmbraces; a Choir of Angels all the While accompanying them, with socharming a Melody, that the Franciscan says, he is never able to thinkof the Delight of it without weeping. And after this there follow'd awonderful fragrant Smell. When he waked out of his Dream, if you willcall it a Dream, he was just like a mad Man. He would not believe he wasin his Cell; he called for his Bridge and his Meadow; he could not speakor think of any Thing else but them. The Seniors of the Convent, whenthey 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, theyunanimously gave Thanks to God, that abundantly rewards good Men fortheir good Deeds. 

_Po. _ What have we to do, but to set down this holy Man's Name in theCalendar of Saints?

_Br. _ I should have done that if the Franciscan had seen nothing at allof 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, amongthe 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 Scrupleupon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authorityof the Bishop of _Rome_?

_Br. _ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Whocanoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory ismost sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, andthe Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselvesto the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was saintedby _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City?

_Po. _ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will ofHeaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are alwayssensibly felt. 

_Br. _ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be aBlessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments ofhis Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality. He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing withSt. _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 bepersecuted by wicked Men for being good. 

_Po. _ I confess so, and St. _Jerome_ suffer'd many unworthy Things fromthe worst of Men, for the best of Deeds. 

_Br. _ That which Satan did formerly by the Scribes and Pharisees againstthe Lord Jesus, he continues still to do by Pharisaical Men, againstgood Men, who have deserved well from the World by their Studies. He nowreaps the blessed Harvest of the Seed he has been sowing. In the meanTime, it will be our Duty, to preserve his Memory sacred; to honour hisName, and to address him often in some such Manner as follows. _O holySoul, be thou propitious to Languages, and to those that cultivate them:Favour the holy Tongues, and destroy evil Tongues that are infected withthe 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 somelittle Form of Prayer, according to Custom, to celebrate the Memory ofthis 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 chosenServant_ John Reuclin, _renew'd to Mankind the Gift of Tongues, by whichthy holy Spirit from above, did formerly furnish thy Apostles for theirPreaching the Gospel; grant that all thy People may every where, in allLanguages, preach the Glory of thy Son Jesus Christ, to the confoundingof the Tongues of false Apostles; who being in a Confederacy to upholdthe impious Tower of_ Babel, _endeavour to obscure thy Glory, and toadvance their own, when to thee alone, together with thy only Son JesusChrist 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 theKnowledge 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 onethat loves you. 

_Ma. _ Say you so! pray where's the great Slaughter of Men that I havemade? Where's the Blood of the Slain?

_Pa. _ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look uponme. 

_Ma. _ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wishI 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 poorme, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. Fornow I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death. 

_Ma. _ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at theSight 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 ripeCherry, 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 abetter 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 bedead? 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 orVinegar. 

_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, yourVoice 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, thatI 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 isonly 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 awayanother's Life, is a Murtherer. 

_Ma. _ I grant that too. 

_Pa. _ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by thegreatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where itanimates, 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 dearlyloves; 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 mefreely: There's no Hurt in it. 

_Pa. _ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd meoutright. 

_Ma. _ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul fromher 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 thatExchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as minehas 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 itloves 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 butimproperly 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 methis 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, andshe 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 islov'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 lovevoluntarily, or against your Will?

_Pa. _ Voluntarily. 

_Ma. _ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; hethat does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maidwrongfully. 

_Pa. _ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. Heis guilty of killing, that can save and don't save. 

_Ma. _ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as supposewith another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, tosave the Lover?

_Pa. _ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought tolove, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther bea 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 Hogor 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 throwothers I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believethe Infection is in your own Eyes than mine. 

_Pa. _ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you mustinsult 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 Easeimaginable. 

_Ma. _ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir. 

_Pa. _ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what'seasier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in theWorld 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 wishso 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 amno Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't byhis Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you falldeeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love youagain. 

_Ma. _ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die athousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and onethat won't love me neither. 

_Pa. _ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certainMaid. 

_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 someother 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 arich 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 Lifetoo, 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 bythat Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?

_Ma. _ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected forthat. But tell me what became of the Maid?

_Pa. _ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had agood Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for aPrince; 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 goodWill; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away withGrief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Apethan 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 charmingGirl 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, forslighting the young Gentleman. 

_Ma. _ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to enduresuch 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 aWife, not a Mistress. 

_Ma. _ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that whichbeing 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 uponyou, 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 reallyso, 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 willbe 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, haththe 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 theHonesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no badSign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have beenbrought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestlyeducated, than honourably born. And then there's another goodCircumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yoursand mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I haveknown one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; andbesides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age, Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, thatwhich is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree verywell with mine. There are some Things that may be very good inthemselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper maybe to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make meprognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy, lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by aDenial. 

_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 youshould repent of when done. 

_Pa. _ Leave off teasing me. 

_Ma. _ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age orSickness have spoil'd my Beauty. 

_Pa. _ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. Idon't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is yourGuest 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 thatthrough so many Coverings. 

_Pa. _ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and thenbesides 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 theBoughs laden with ripe Apples?

_Ma. _ Oh, how cunningly you can argue!

_Pa. _ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vinelying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or anElm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour?

_Ma. _ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the mostpleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered andwithering in the Hand?

_Pa. _ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; theredelighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon theBush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has themost Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this isto be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soonas she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriagelook'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into theGround: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they havebrightened 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 monstrousthan an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we shouldnever have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barrenMatch, 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 livechastly 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 willthe Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may livetogether like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn tobe Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once. 

_Ma. _ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may belearned?

_Pa. _ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learnto be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, hethat 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 Plentycan't debauch. 

_Pa. _ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrateshimself, 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 abjureMatrimony?

_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, itwere a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Faultnot 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; especiallyif 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; butif he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very fewHusbands 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, andyou shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to ourPleasure: 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 yourSoul 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 freedfrom 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 goodHousewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a greatRevenue, 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 anduntouch'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 Idare 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 thatthere is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the littlethat is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you shouldbe quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Doyou see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God inthe 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 wemay have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversionin 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! surelythis 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 chearfulmyself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deepone too!

_Ca. _ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must nottell it. 

_Eu. _ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do myown Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will youare safe. 

_Ca. _ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never thebetter 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 thatmy Heart won't let me divulge it. 

_Eu. _ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give meyour 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 wantof being compleatly happy. 

_Ca. _ I would I were so. 

_Eu. _ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, youare 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 ofyour Trouble. 

_Ca. _ Nothing less, I assure you. 

_Eu. _ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift ofGod. 

_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 youto 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 thePerfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, inorder 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 metwith 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, butyour Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentifulFortunes, 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 youare the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition topretend to't. 

_Ca. _ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'dto marry. 

_Eu. _ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mindso. 

_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, isthat it? You promis'd to tell me. 

_Ca. _ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that youimagine. 

_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'llnever 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 Ihave 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 Muttonfor 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 againstit. 

_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, andTears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I wasseventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Timeis now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from theirWords. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you myDistemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can. 

_Eu. _ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you tomoderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all thatyou 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 ofthose Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me thewhole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd socharming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smeltso sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in shortwhich Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And thenI had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or threethat had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had astrange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since. 

_Eu. _ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the sameThing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, asfar as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should ratheradvise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your ownHouse, 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 youmay keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, fromwhich you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home withyour 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 youmay think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make goodtheir Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no wherehonester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Fatherthey had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thoumade 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 Fellowshipto renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For thePatriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain naturalDrowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish anyThing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, thatmatch him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an illMan, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not aGrain 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 Habitof his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears andBells 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 goodOffices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain aProselyte. 

_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me. 

_Eu. _ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men toDay, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them bewhat 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 sometimeswhen 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 ofthe World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but letnothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allowyou a Chamber to yourself. 

_Ca. _ Yes, they do. 

_Eu. _ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company growtroublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertainyourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks:Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the morepure. 

_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 youdelude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to bethroughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Thingswon't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not allVirgins 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 oneVirgin that was a Mother, _i. E. _ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy weappropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'dVirgins after Childbearing. 

_Ca. _ I abhor the Thoughts on't. 

_Eu. _ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do morethan 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 notunderstand me. 

_Ca. _ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have astrong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hathcontinu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger andstronger. 

_Eu. _ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes mesuspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined yourParents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affectionfrom the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles ofthe Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, theexternal Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of thesenseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they maytipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful, and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they knowhe'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or elsethey'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing withoutyour Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God wouldhave inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were areligious 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 orMother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not actpiously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who hadnothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, andleave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ byBaptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you wouldindeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; orif your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalousThing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what isthis to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have theDictates 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 andnatural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father, rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of yourtrue Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents?For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you beat Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd[_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition ofServants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarilya Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measurecast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscureFoot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out underpretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed inmany Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then allthat you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of theDoor, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'dher Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they changethe Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves inold Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name thatwas given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or_Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, andbeing to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If amilitary Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he notlook'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him thattakes 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 ahundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which isthe Innocency of his Mind. 

_Ca. _ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into thisvoluntary 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, butrather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitudethe worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonlyFools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, beingevery now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, doany 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 andmost 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 theMatter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such aCourse of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And nowconsider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose, together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, orsing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as youplease. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hearAnthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virginremarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see anyMan that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn whatwill make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and youmay chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once youcome into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatestAssistances 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 maketheir boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in beingobedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God hascommanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, whenall is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times werein an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberalitytowards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they hadpossessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for livingwith your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? AVail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, whichof themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make noBody more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purityof the Mind. 

_Ca. _ This is News to me. 

_Eu. _ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from theGovernment 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 ofyourself into the Service of a Stranger?

_Ca. _ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Childfrom 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 ofChrist?

_Ca. _ They are so. 

_Eu. _ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that theLaw of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and theGospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance thatnever came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in theirCells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify aMarriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, andagainst the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phraseit) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neitheraccording to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrineof _Christ_ or his Apostles. 

_Ca. _ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ withoutmy Parents Consent?

_Eu. _ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where isthe Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here onlyabout Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents isto be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look toit, 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 highestSanctity, even to contemn ones Parents. 

_Eu. _ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of theholy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this, bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That theycan do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parentsto Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as ittoo often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that Ipray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism toChristianity, 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 ofit, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especiallythose of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedlyinto that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And therather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than outof it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well atHome. 

_Ca. _ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yetthis 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 Inclinationsmay 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 assoon 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 betterLooks, 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 hadtheir Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he isgone, we will discourse as we use to do. 

_Eu. _ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though youwould not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, Iwould fain have it from your Mouth. 

_Ca. _ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took tobe very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice thanyou, 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, andthen by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length broughtover; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd byseveral Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather likeone that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded intheir Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to letChrist 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 Timethere 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 comeat me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was makingready, 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 hadrather 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 betterthan 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 witha crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail?

_Ca. _ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, thansee 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, thoughthey sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almostdead 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 Brainout 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 theirfirst consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better ofthe 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 justas 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 broadDay-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 soresolutely bent upon it?

_Ca. _ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something veryconsiderable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; Ibegged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out ofthe College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to myResolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, tellingme, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make memaster 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 Fatherand Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and thatwould certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that veryquickly too; and upon this, they took me Home. 

_Eu. _ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'dyourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changedyour 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, youhave been at a great Charge. 

_Ca. _ Above 400 Crowns. 

_Eu. _ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money isgone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counselwhen 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 prettierthan 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 inall 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 youthis fine Present?

_Eu. _ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents butfrom him?

_Xa. _ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a goodHusband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I wasmarried to my _Nick_. 

_Eu. _ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between youalready?

_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, whenI see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so richas mine is. 

_Eu. _ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or otherDeckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard thatlately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and theOrnaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of manybut 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 towardhis 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 uponhis 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 Ihave been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunkas _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by mySide, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more. 

_Eu. _ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing yourHusband. 

_Xa. _ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such aHusband 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 aTongue 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 mewith 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 onboth 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 aFoot-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'dme with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman ofSpirit. 

_Eu. _ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming. 

_Xa. _ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use himlike a Husband. 

_Eu. _ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to theirown 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 teachesthat _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse theChurch_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine. 

_Eu. _ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one mustsubmit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to herHusband. 

_Xa. _ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me likea 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 wouldhave 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, andsometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes hecatches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it withall 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 Ican scarce keep my Hands off of him. 

_Eu. _ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely withyou. 

_Xa. _ I do give you Leave. 

_Eu. _ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, whichhas been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this. 

_Xa. _ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I moredearly lov'd than you. 

_Eu. _ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, Thatthere is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy forirreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: Hemust 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 studyto suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agreetogether. 

_Xa. _ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him?

_Eu. _ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbandsshall 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 humanKind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'da Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one hashis Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speakthe 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 bebetween the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughlyacquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to beprovided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, itis a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially ifit ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. ThoseThings that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one fromanother if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once theyhave been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothingmore firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken thatgood Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in theInfancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness, and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only uponBeauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd. 

_Xa. _ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to yourHumour. 

_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 Itake 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 ofit. 

_Xa. _ Well, I will not. 

_Eu. _ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in everyRespect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed hisInclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiestMoments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to dowho tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can'tbe 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; northose who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, thatthese Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers aremade so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their ownselves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, andStroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: Howmuch more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, withwhom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed andBoard?

_Xa. _ Well, go on with what you have begun. 

_Eu. _ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, takingCare that nothing should offend him. 

_Xa. _ How could you do that?

_Eu. _ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is thepeculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that everyThing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the mostminute Things. 

_Xa. _ What Things?

_Eu. _ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, orliked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made aftersuch 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 myHusband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, Idid 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 aLooking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Personthat looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper ofher Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry whenhe is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I eitherendeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till hisPassion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered, either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the sameMethod, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time nevergave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, Imight get him to go to Bed. 

_Xa. _ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must onlyhumour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thingthat they have a Mind to do. 

_Eu. _ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands arenot 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 toadvise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink atthem. 

_Xa. _ But what Time is that?

_Eu. _ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor inthe Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advisehim, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this orthat Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. Andthis 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, thathe shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon meto 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, Ibreak off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertainingSubject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that whenonce 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 Husbandbefore Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passesbetween two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has takenAir. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be bornwith, 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'sParents 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: Andnot to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and lovehis 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, bythe 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 hewill. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a littlebetter by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make himgrow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances ofHusbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spousesmuch for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbandsafter this Manner?

_Xa. _ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike myHusband, as black is from white. 

_Eu. _ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a nobleFamily; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married ayoung Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educatedall along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality loveto reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had aMind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easilyform her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her inLiterature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads ofSermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, whichwould afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new tothe Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossipand play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd tosubmit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'dher about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throwherself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, astho' 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 withhim into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of alittle Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. Whenthey 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 asideprivately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopesto have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one thatwas always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by anyAdmonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure hisDaughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had onceput his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he mightuse his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Lawreplies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should bereform'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 aDay or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alonewith his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling herhow homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and howoften he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her aHusband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that thebest Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not beingsensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such aHusband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, wouldscarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, youare disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew sohot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Handsoff her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act anyPart, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, andpartly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at herFather's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time tocome, 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 felldown on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neitherknew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find meanother Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. TheHusband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thingshe 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 readilyand chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So greata Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the youngLady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marrysuch a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the mostwretched 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, thatlately happen'd in this City, of a Husband that was reclaimed by thegood Management of his Wife. 

_Xa. _ I have nothing to do at present, and your Conversation is verydiverting. 

_Eu. _ There is a certain Gentleman of no mean Descent; he, like the restof his Quality, used often to go a Hunting: Being in the Country, hehappen'd to see a young Damsel, the Daughter of a poor old Woman, andbegan to fall desperately in love with her. He was a Man pretty well inYears; 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 admirableTemper, suspecting something more than ordinary, went in search to findout her Husband's Intrigues, and having discover'd them, by I can't tellwhat Method, she goes to the Country Cottage, and learnt all theParticulars where he lay, what he drank, and what Manner ofEntertainment he had at Table. There was no Furniture in the House, nothing but naked Walls. The Gentlewoman goes Home, and quickly aftergoes back again, carrying with her a handsome Bed and Furniture, somePlate and Money, bidding them to treat him with more Respect, if at anyTime he came there again. A few Days after, her Husband steals anOpportunity to go thither, and sees the Furniture increas'd, and findshis Entertainment more delicate than it us'd to be; he enquir'd fromwhence this unaccustomed Finery came: They said, that a certain honestGentlewoman of his Acquaintance, brought these Things; and gave them inCharge, that he should be treated with more Respect for the future. Hepresently 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'dher for what Reason she had sent thither that household Furniture? MyDear, says she, you are us'd to a handsomer Way of Living: I found thatyou far'd hardly there, I thought it my Duty, since you took a Fancy tothe Place, that your Reception should be more agreeable. 

_Xa. _ A Wife good even to an Excess. I should sooner have sent him aBundle 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 afterthat violated her Bed, but solaced himself with her at Home. I know youknow _Gilbert_ the _Dutchman_. 

_Xa. _ I know him. 

_Eu. _ He, you know, in the prime of his Age, marry'd a Gentlewoman wellstricken 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 andEars in Love with a young Woman, with whom he us'd ever and anon todivert 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 Iwould 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 theCivility 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 someNicety or other, desiring them to be merry together. 

_Xa. _ As for me, I would sooner chuse to lose my Life than to be Bawd tomy 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 totallyalienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole Life inquarrelling and brawling. 

_Xa. _ I believe, that of two Evils it was the least, but I could neverhave submitted to it. 

_Eu. _ I will add one more, and then I'll have done with Examples. Anext Door Neighbour of ours is a very honest, good Man, but a little toosubject to Passion. One Day he beat his Wife, a Woman of commendablePrudence. She immediately withdrew into a private Room, and there gaveVent to her Grief by Tears and Sighs. Soon after upon some Occasion herHusband came into the Room, and found his Wife all in Tears. What's theMatter, says he, that you're crying and sobbing like a Child? To whichshe prudently reply'd, Why, says she, is it not much better to lament myMisfortune here, than if I should make a Bawling in the Street, as otherWomen 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 tohis Wife, he would never lay his Hand upon her after, as long as heliv'd. Nor did he ever do it. 

_Xa. _ I have obtain'd as much from my Husband, but by a differentConduct. 

_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 ofit, but endeavour to gain his good Will by all good Offices, courteousCarriage, and Meekness of Spirit, and by these Methods, you will inTime, either wholly reclaim him, or at least you will live with him muchmore easy than now you do. 

_Xa. _ Ay, but he's too ill-natur'd to be wrought upon by all the kindOffices in the World. 

_Eu. _ Hold, don't say so, there is no Beast that is so savage but he maybe 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 thatthis Advice has been of Benefit to you, blame me. And there are alsosome Faults that you must wink at; but above all Things, it is myOpinion, you ought to avoid ever to begin any Quarrel either in theBed-Chamber, or in Bed, and to take a special Care that every Thingthere be chearful and pleasant. For if that Place which is consecratedfor the wiping out old Miscarriages and the cementing of Love, comes tobe unhallowed by Contention and Sourness of Temper, all Remedy for theReconcilement is taken away. For there are some Women of so moroseTempers that they will be querulous, and scold even while the Rites ofLove are performing, and will by the Uneasiness of their Tempers renderthat Fruition itself disagreeable which is wont to discharge the Mindsof Men from any Heart-burning, that they may have had; and by this Meansthey spoil that Cordial, by which Misunderstandings in Matrimony mightbe cured. 

_Xa. _ That has been often my Case. 

_Eu. _ And tho' it ought always to be the Care of a Wife, not to make herHusband uneasy in any Thing; yet that ought to be especially her Care tostudy, 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 madebad, by our bad Conduct. But to return to our Argument, those that areconversant 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 wereinterwoven all bewitching Ingredients of an amorous Medicament, and thatshe 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 tobe so engaging to her Husband in conjugal Embraces, that matrimonialAffection may be retain'd and renew'd, and if there has been anyDistaste 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. Thereis no Enchantment so effectual as Virtue, join'd with a Sweetness ofDisposition. 

_Xa. _ I can't be able to bring myself to humour such a Husband as I havegot. 

_Eu. _ But this is for your Interest, that he would leave off to be sucha bad Husband. If you could by _Circe_'s Art transform your Husband intoa 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 asober Man of a Drunkard, a frugal Man of a Spendthrift, a diligent Manof 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 youmake him, the more you consult your own Advantage. You only keep yourEyes 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 beheld by; but rather take Notice of what good Qualities he has, and holdhim by this Handle, which is a Handle he may be held by: Before youmarried him, you had Time of considering what his Defects were. AHusband 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 buthis Person and bare Outside: She chuses him by her Ears, who carefullyobserves 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 willcontribute something to the Matter, if you could have any Children byhim. 

_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 MonthsLying 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 playwith me, tickling me about the Arm-pits and Sides, to make me laugh, andI not being able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flatupon the Bed, and he lying upon me, kiss'd me, and I don't know what hedid to me besides; but this is certain, within a few Days after, myBelly began to swell. 

_Eu. _ Get you gone now, and slight a Husband, who if he can get Childrenjesting, 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, theMarriage 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 alittle for it. What Sort of Character do your Husband's Companions givehim? 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 wewould 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 notbegin to be so to you, instead of _Eulalia_ (a good Speaker), call me_Pseudolalia_ (a prating Liar); and besides, consider this, that he'sbut a young Man yet, I believe not above twenty-four Years of Age, anddoes not yet know what it is to be the Master of a Family. You mustnever 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 allconsider with yourself, what an insignificant Figure a Woman makes whenshe is parted from her Husband. It is the greatest Glory of a Matron, tobe obedient to her Husband. This Nature dictates, and it is the Will ofGod, that the Woman should wholly depend upon her Husband: Only think, as it really is, he is your Husband, you cannot have another. Then callto Mind that the little Boy belongs to you both. What would you do withhim? Would you take him away with you? Then will you defraud yourHusband of his own. Will you leave him to him? Then you will depriveyourself 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, thatwould be more grateful to them, than if they should see you divorc'dfrom your Husband; a Widow, nay, to live, a Widow bewitcht, worse than aWidow? For Widows may marry again. 

_Xa. _ I approve of your Advice; but can't bear the Thoughts of beingalways a Slave. 

_Eu. _ Recount what Pains you took before you could teach that Parrot toprattle. 

_Xa. _ A great Deal indeed. 

_Eu. _ And yet you think much to bestow a little Pains to mould yourHusband, with whom you may live a pleasant Life all your Days. What aDeal of Pains do Men take to render a Horse tractable to them: And shallwe think much to take a little Pains to render our Husbands moreagreeable?

_Xa. _ What must I do?

_Eu. _ I have told you already, take Care that all Things be neat, and inOrder at Home, that there be nothing discomposing, to make him go out ofDoors; behave yourself easy and free to him, always remembring thatRespect which is due from a Wife to a Husband. Let all Melancholy andill-tim'd Gaiety be banished out of Doors; be not morose norfrolicksome. Let your Table be handsomely provided. You know yourHusband's Palate, dress that which he likes best. Behave yourselfcourteously and affably to those of his Acquaintance he respects. Invitethem frequently to Dinner; let all Things be pleasant and chearful atTable. Lastly, if at any Time he happens to come Home a little merrywith 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 alsolessen his Expences: For he will thus reason with himself; was not I madwith a Witness, who live abroad with a nasty Harlot, to the apparentPrejudice of my Estate and Reputation, when I have at Home a Wife muchmore entertaining and affectionate to me, with whom I may be entertainedmore 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'lltalk to your Husband, and put him in Mind of his Duty. 

_Xa. _ I approve of your Design; but take Care that he mayn't discoverany Thing of what has past between us two, for he would throw the Houseout 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, asengagingly as can be, and I hope, shall render him to you bettertemper'd: I'll likewise take Occasion to tell a Lie or two in yourFavour, 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 melike another Sort of Creature. 

_Cart. _ It may be you would not know your own Wife, if she should meetyou 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 Coloursare you painted with? No Bird had ever such a Variety of Feathers. Howall is cut and slash'd! Nothing according to Nature or Fashion! your cutHair, your half-shav'd Beard, and that Wood upon your upper Lip, entangled and standing out straggling like the Whiskers of a Cat. Nor isit one single Scar that has disfigured your Face, that you may very wellbe 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, tellme, was there so great a Scarcity of good Physicians in this Quarter ofthe World?

_Cart. _ Why do you ask?

_Sol. _ Because you did not get the Distemper of your Brain cur'd, beforeyou 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 livedhandsomely 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 thisPlace as in a Coop. Besides, your bald Pate, and your prodigious strangeDress, your Lonesomeness, your eating Fish perpetually, so that I admireyou are not turn'd into a Fish. 

_Cart. _ If Men were turn'd into what they eat, you had long ago beenturn'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, longenough before now, for I find very few that don't repent of it. 

_Cart. _ This usually happens to those who plunge themselves headlonginto this Kind of Life, as if they threw themselves into a Well; but Ihave enter'd into it warily and considerately, having first made Trialof myself, and having duly examined the whole Ratio of this Way ofLiving, being twenty-eight Years of Age, at which Time, every one may besuppos'd to know himself. And as for the Place, you are confined in asmall Compass as well as I, if you compare it to the Extent of thewhole World. Nor does it signify any Thing how large the Place is, aslong as it wants nothing of the Conveniences of Life. There are manythat seldom stir out of the City in which they were born, which if theywere prohibited from going out, would be very uneasy, and would bewonderfully desirous to do it. This is a common Humour, that I am nottroubled with. I fancy this Place to be the whole World to me, and thisMap represents the whole Globe of the Earth, which I can travel over inThought with more Delight and Security than he that sails to thenew-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 haveyour own Hair clipp'd, for Conveniency Sake. Shaving, to me, if it doesnothing else, certainly keeps my Head more clean, and perhaps morehealthful 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 theWeather, and to cover our Nakedness. Does not this Garment answer boththese Ends? But perhaps the Colour offends you. What Colour is morebecoming Christians than that which was given to all in Baptism? It hasbeen said also, _Take a white Garment_; so that this Garment puts me inMind of what I promised in Baptism, that is, the perpetual Study ofInnocency. And besides, if you call that Solitude which is only aretiring from the Crowd, we have for this the Example, not only of ourown, but of the ancient Prophets, the _Ethnick_ Philosophers, and allthat had any Regard to the keeping a good Conscience. Nay, Poets, Astrologers, and Persons devoted to such-like Arts, whensoever they takein Hand any Thing that's great and beyond the Sphere of the commonPeople, commonly betake themselves to a Retreat. But why should you callthis Kind of Life Solitude? The Conversation of one single Friend drivesaway the Tædium of Solitude. I have here more than sixteen Companions, fit for all Manner of Conversation. And besides, I have Friends whocome to visit me oftner than I would have them, or is convenient Do Ithen, 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 muchbetter after Lent. 

_Cart. _ And more than that, when I seem to be most alone, I don't wantCompanions, which are by far more delightful and entertaining than thosecommon Jesters. 

_Sol. _ Where are they?

_Cart. _ Look you, here are the four Evangelists. In this Book he that sopleasantly 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 theFatigue of their Journey, but made their Hearts burn within them with adivine Ardour of hearing his sweet Words, holds Conversation with me. Inthis I converse with _Paul_, with _Isaiah_, and the rest of theProphets. Here the most sweet _Chrysostom_ converses with me, and_Basil_, and _Austin_, and _Jerome_, and _Cyprian_, and the rest of theDoctors that are both learned and eloquent. Do you know any suchpleasant Companions abroad in the World, that you can have Conversationwith? Do you think I can be weary of Retirement, in such Society asthis? And I am never without it. 

_Sol. _ But they would speak to me to no Purpose, who do not understandthem. 

_Cart. _ Now for our Diet, what signifies it with what Food this Body ofours is fed which is satisfied with very little, if we live according toNature? Which of us two is in the best Plight? You who live uponPartridges, 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 solittle. 

_Sol. _ But in the mean Time, you live the Life of a _Jew_. 

_Cart. _ Forbear Reflections: If we cannot come up to Christianity, atleast 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; butI 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 BodyOffence. I would give no Offence to any one for the Sake of thesetrivial Things, which it is but a very little Trouble to observe. As weare Men, let us wear what Cloaths we will. Men are so humoursome, theAgreement or Disagreement in the most minute Matters, either procures ordestroys Concord. The shaving of the Head, or Colour of the Habit doesnot indeed, of themselves, recommend me to God: But what would thePeople say, if I should let my Hair grow, or put on your Habit? I havegiven you my Reasons for my Way of Life; now, pray, in your Turn, giveme your Reasons for yours, and tell me, were there no good Physicians inyour Quarter, when you listed yourself for a Soldier, leaving a youngWife and Children at Home, and was hired for a pitiful Pay to cut Men'sThroats, and that with the Hazard of your own Life too? For yourBusiness did not lie among Mushrooms and Poppies, but armed Men. What doyou think is a more unhappy Way of living, for a poor Pay, to murder aFellow Christian, who never did you Harm, and to run yourself Body andSoul 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 andFriends, your Religion and Liberties, and the publick Peace. But what isall that to your fighting for Money? If you had been knocked on theHead, I would not have given a rotten Nut to redeem the very Soul ofyou. 

_Sol. _ No?

_Cart. _ No, by Christ, I would not. Now which do you think is the harderTask, to be obedient to a good Man, which we call Prior, who calls us toPrayers, and holy Lectures, the Hearing of the saving Doctrine, and tosing to the Glory of God: Or, to be under the Command of some barbarousOfficer, who often calls you out to fatiguing Marches at Midnight, andsends you out, and commands you back at his Pleasure, exposes you to theShot of great Guns, assigns you a Station where you must either kill orbe killed?

_Sol. _ There are more Evils than you have mentioned yet. 

_Cart. _ If I shall happen to deviate from the Discipline of my Order, myPunishment 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 behang'd for it, or run the Gantlope; for it would be a Favour to haveyour 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 MoneyHome, after all your brave Adventures. 

_Sol. _ As for Money, I have not had a Farthing this good While; nay, Ihave gotten a good Deal into Debt, and for that Reason I come hither outof 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 hurriedyourself 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 whoseSake God commanded you to leave Father and Mother, being forsaken byyou, sat grieving at Home with her young Children. And do you think thisis Living, to be involved in so many Miseries, and to wallow in so greatIniquities?

_Sol. _ The having so many Companions of my Wickedness, made meinsensible 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 anotherMan. What a Trench have you got here in your Forehead? It looks as ifyou had had a Horn cut out. 

_Sol. _ Nay, if you did but know the Matter, you would congratulate meupon 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 ofit 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 thatDistemper, and it had like to have cost me my Life. 

_Cart. _ But how came it, that you walk so stooping, as if you wereninety 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: Formerlyyou were a Horseman, and now of a Centaur, you are become a Kind ofsemi-reptile Animal. 

_Sol. _ This is the Fortune of War. 

_Cart. _ Nay, 'tis the Madness of your own Mind. But what Spoils will youcarry Home to your Wife and Children? The Leprosy? for that Scab is onlya Species of the Leprosy; and it is only not accounted so, because itis the Disease in Fashion, and especially among Noblemen: And for thisvery Reason, it should be the more carefully avoided. And now you willinfect with it those that ought to be the dearest to you of any in theWorld, and you yourself will all your Days carry about a rotten Carcass. 

_Sol. _ Prithee, Brother, have done chiding me. I have enough upon mewithout Chiding. 

_Cart. _ As to those Calamities, I have hitherto taken Notice of, theyonly relate to the Body: But what a Sort of a Soul do you bring backwith 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, ora common House of Office. 

_Cart. _ I am afraid it stinks worse in the Nostrils of God and hisAngels. 

_Sol. _ Well, but I have had Chiding enough, now speak to the Matter, ofsomething to bear my Charges. 

_Cart. _ I have nothing to give you, but I'll go and try what the Priorwill do. 

_Sol. _ If any Thing was to be given, your Hands would be ready toreceive it; but now there are a great many Difficulties in the Way, whensomething 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 afterDinner, 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 haveenlarg'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 ofMan was given him to speak the Truth. 

_Pseud. _ Ay, to speak those Things that tend to his Profit: The Truth isnot 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 isCousin-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 itbunglingly 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 becaught 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 Mindto 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 aswinging 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 betterthan 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 inother Things. 

_Phil. _ I confess, I am deficient. Shew me. 

_Pseud. _ When I said, now I will begin to lie, did I not tell you aswinging 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 upnor 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 whichis got by laying a Tax on Urine. 

_Pseud. _ That is true, I own; but then 'tis to those that han't the Artof lying. 

_Phil. _ What Art is this that you understand?

_Pseud. _ It is not fit I should teach you for nothing; pay me, and youshall 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 yourEstate. 

_Phil. _ Well, keep your Art to yourself, only give me a Specimen that Imay understand that what you say is not all Pretence. 

_Pseud. _ Here's a Specimen for you: I concern myself in all Manner ofBusiness, 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 becaught. 

_Phil. _ Who are those?

_Pseud. _ The soft-headed, the forgetful, the unthinking, those that livea 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 myBook of Accounts. 

_Phil. _ And what then?

_Pseud. _ When the Money is to be paid, I charge the Buyer with more thanhe 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 hadthe Goods you charge him with?

_Pseud. _ I stand to it stiffly; for Bashfulness is altogether anunprofitable Qualification in this Art. My last Shift is, I frame someExcuse 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 jumblethe Accounts together, and this is an easy Way to impose on a Person: Asfor Example, some are cross'd out, the Money being paid, and others havenot been paid; these I mingle one with another at the latter End of theBook, nothing being cross'd out. When the Sum is cast up, we contendabout it, and I for the most Part get the better, tho' it be byforswearing myself. Then besides, I have this Trick, I make up myAccount with a Person when he is just going a Journey, and not preparedfor the Settling it. For as for me, I am always ready. If any Thing beleft with me, I conceal it, and restore it not again. It is a long Timebefore 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 itupon the Carrier. And lastly, if I can no Way avoid restoring it, Irestore 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. SometimesLength of Time puts Things out of Remembrance: The Accounts areperplexed, one dies, or goes a long Journey: And if nothing else willhit, in the mean Time I make Use of other People's Money. I bring someover to my Interest, by a Shew of Generosity, that they may help me outin lying; but it is always at other People's Cost; of my own, I wouldnot give my own Mother a Doit. And tho' the Gain in each Particular maybe but small; but being many put together, makes a good round Sum; foras 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 thechief. I intercept all the Letters I can, open them, and read them. Ifany Thing in them makes against me, I destroy them, or keep them a longTime before I deliver them: And besides all this, I sow Discord betweenthose 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 notperformed that I have promised in another Person's Name, or in whoseName 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 aconsiderable Account. 

_Phil. _ But what if he denies it?

_Pseud. _ He's a great Way off, as suppose at _Basil_; and I promise togive it in _England. _ And so it is brought about, that both beingincensed, neither will believe the one the other, if I accuse them ofany Thing. Now you have a Specimen of my Art. 

_Phil. _ But this Art is what we Dullards call Theft; who call a Fig aFig, and a Spade a Spade. 

_Pseud. _ O Ignoramus in the Law! Can you bring an Action of Theft forTrover or Conversion, or for one that having borrow'd a Thing forswearsit, 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 Methodsthere is more Gain, or at least as much, and less Danger. 

_Phil. _ A Mischief take you, with your cheating Tricks and Lies, for Ihan't a Mind to learn 'em. Good by to ye. 

_Pseud. _ You may go on, and be plagu'd with your ragged Truth. In themean Time, I'll live merrily upon my thieving, lying Tricks, with Slightof 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 thatever any such Thing should come into my Mind. 

_Adol. _ That which I have related, is but a Diversion, in Comparison towhat you'll hear presently. 

_Ant. _ I have heard Calamities enough already, my Flesh trembles to hearyou relate them, as if I were in Danger myself. 

_Adol. _ But Dangers that are past, are pleasant to be thought on. Onething happen'd that Night, that almost put the Pilot out of all Hopes ofSafety. 

_Ant. _ Pray what was that?

_Adol. _ The Night was something lightish, and one of the Sailors was gotinto the Skuttle (so I think they call it) at the Main-Top-Mast, lookingout if he could see any Land; a certain Ball of Fire began to stand byhim, 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 satat the Helm, calls to him, Mate, says he, (for so Sailors call oneanother) 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 fieryBall glides down the Ropes, and rolls itself over and over close to thePilot. 

_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, slippingthrough the Hatches, it vanished away. About Noon the Storm began toincrease. Did you ever see the _Alps_?

_Ant. _ I have seen them. 

_Adol. _ Those Mountains are Mole Hills, if they be compar'd to the Wavesof the Sea. As oft as we were toss'd up, one might have touch'd the Moonwith his Finger; and as oft as we were let fall down into the Sea, weseem'd to be going directly down to Hell, the Earth gaping to receiveus. 

_Ant. _ O mad Folks, that trust themselves to the Sea!

_Adol. _ The Mariners striving in Vain with the Storm, at length thePilot, 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 Windhas got the better of me; all that we have now to do is to place ourHope 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 toendeavour to save our Lives with the Loss of our Goods, than to perishwith them. The Truth persuaded, and a great many Casks of richMerchandize were thrown over-Board. _Ant. _ This was casting away, according to the Letter. 

_Adol. _ There was in the Company, a certain _Italian_, that had beenupon an Embassy to the King of _Scotland_. He had a whole Cabinet fullof Plate, Rings, Cloth, and rich wearing Apparel. 

_Ant. _ And he, I warrant ye, was unwilling to come to a Composition withthe Sea. 

_Adol. _ No, he would not; he had a Mind either to sink or swim with hisbeloved 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 runthe Risque of our Lives, for the Sake of your Cabinet: If you won'tconsent, 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, withmany a bitter Curse to the Gods both above and below, that he hadcommitted his Life to so barbarous an Element. 

_Ant. _ I know the Italian Humour. 

_Adol. _ The Winds were nothing the less boisterous for our Presents, butby 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 usthat every one of us should recommend himself to God, and prepare forDeath. Being ask'd by some that were not ignorant in Sea Affairs, howlong he thought the Ship might be kept above Water, he said, he couldpromise 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 Mastdown 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 aBurden, 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; theMariners, they were singing their _Salve Regina_, imploring the VirginMother, calling her the Star of the Sea, the Queen of Heaven, the Ladyof 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 aVoyage in her Life?

_Adol. _ In ancient Times, _Venus_ took Care of Mariners, because she wasbeliev'd to be born of the Sea and because she left off to take Care ofthem, the Virgin Mother was put in her Place, that was a Mother, but nota 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 someincensed Prince. 

_Ant. _ What did they say?

_Adol. _ O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! Omost beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff theysung 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 greatmany Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; othersagain, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by theVirgin _Mary_, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think theVow 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 whopromised he would go a _Pilgrimage_ to St. _James_ at _Compostella_, bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging hisBread 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 bawlingout aloud, lest St. _Christopher_ should not hear him, promised him, whois at the Top of a Church at _Paris_, rather a Mountain than a Statue, awax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over andover as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on theElbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if youshould sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay forit. He answer'd him softly, lest St. _Christopher_ should hear him, youFool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe toShore, 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, andhaving suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquaintedwith 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 particularPrayers not unlike magical Charms against Dangers. 

_Ant. _ How Affliction makes Men religious! In Prosperity we neitherthink of God nor Saint. But what did you do all this While? Did you notmake 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 Bargainin Form? I'll give you, if you do so and so; or I will do so and so, ifyou do so and so: I'll give you a wax Taper, if I swim out alive; I'llgo 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 mySafety to any Saint, as suppose, to St. _Peter_, who perhaps, would hearsoonest, because he stands at the Door; before he can come to GodAlmighty, 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 Fatherwhich art in Heaven_. There's none of the Saints hears sooner than hedoes, or more readily gives what is ask'd for. 

_Ant. _ But in the mean Time did not your Conscience check you? Was younot afraid to call him Father, whom you had offended with so manyWickednesses?

_Adol. _ To speak ingenuously, my Conscience did a little terrify me atfirst, 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 Dangerof being drowned in a River or Pond, he will take him, tho' it be by theHair of the Head, and throw him out upon a Bank. There was no Body amongthem all behaved herself more composed than a Woman, who had a Childsucking at her Breast. 

_Ant. _ What did she do?

_Adol. _ She only neither bawl'd, nor wept, nor made Vows, but huggingher little Boy, pray'd softly. In the mean Time the Ship dashing everand anon against the Ground, the Pilot being afraid she would be beatall 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 ofAge, his Name was _Adam_. He strips himself to his Shirt, throws awayhis Boots and Shoes, and bids us all in like Manner to prepare ourselvesfor swimming. Then standing in the middle of the Ship, he preach'd aSermon to us, upon the five Truths of the Benefit of Confession, andexhorted every Man to prepare himself, for either Life or Death. Therewas a _Dominican_ there too, and they confess'd those that had a Mind toit. 

_Ant. _ What did you do?

_Adol. _ I seeing that every thing was in a Hurry, confess'd privately toGod, condemning before him my Iniquity, and imploring his Mercy. 

_Ant. _ And whither should you have gone, do you think, if you hadperished?

_Adol. _ I left that to God, who is my Judge; I would not be my ownJudge. But I was not without comfortable Hopes neither. While theseThings 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 ofno Service to us for a quarter of an Hour. For now she leak'd in severalPlaces. Presently after this he brings us Word that he saw a Steeple agood Way off, and exhorts us to implore the Aid of that Saint, whoeverit was, who had the protection of that Temple. They all fall down andpray to the unknown Saint. 

_Ant. _ Perhaps he would have heard ye, if ye had call'd upon him by hisName. 

_Adol. _ But that we did not know. In the mean Time the Pilate steers theShip, torn and leaking every where, and ready to fall in Pieces, if shehad not been undergirt with Cables, as much as he could toward thatPlace. 

_Ant. _ A miserable Condition. 

_Adol. _ We were now come so near the Shoar, that the Inhabitants of thePlace could see us in Distress, and ran down in Throngs to the utmostEdge of the Shoar, and holding up Gowns and Hats upon Spears, invited usto 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 nosafer 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 ofWater, 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 somany; 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 aPole, another a Gutter, another a Bucket, another a Plank, and every onerelying upon their Security, they commit themselves to the Billows. 

_Ant. _ But what became of the Woman that was the only Person that madeno 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 shecould not easily fall off, and we gave her a Board in her Hand to makeUse of instead of an Oar, and wishing her good Success, we set herafloat, thrusting her off from the Ship with Poles, that she might beclear of it, whence was the greatest Danger. And she held her Child inher 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 woodenImage of the Virgin _Mary_, rotten, and rat-eaten, and embracing it inhis 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 wereabove 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 getclear of it. 

_Ant. _ A sad Accident: But how then?

_Adol. _ While I was taking Care for others, I had like to have been lostmyself. 

_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 agold Candlestick. I look'd round about me, at Length I bethought myselfof the Stump of the Mast, and because I could not get it out alone, Itook a Partner; upon this we both plac'd ourselves, and committedourselves to the Sea. I held the right End, and my Companion the leftEnd. While we lay tumbling and tossing, the old preaching Sea-Priestthrew 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 usbe 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 theyall paid him this Deference. But tho' they had confess'd themselves inthe Ship, yet having forgotten I know not what Circumstances, theyconfess'd over again at the Ship-Side, and each lays his Hand upon theother, and while this was doing the Boat was over-turn'd. This I hadfrom _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 sanctifiedCoul: 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, whichroll'd hither and thither at the Mercy of the Waves, the Thigh of himthat held the left End of the Stump of the Mast was broken by a greatSpike, and so that made him let go his Hold. The old Priest wishing himeverlasting Rest, took his Place, encouraging me to maintain my Post onthe right Hand resolutely, and to strike out my Feet stoutly. In themean Time we drank in abundance of salt Water. For _Neptune_ hadprovided us not only a salt Bath, but a salt Potion too, altho' the oldPriest prescribed a Remedy for it. 

_Ant. _ What was that?

_Adol. _ Why, as often as a Billow met us, he turn'd his Head and shuthis Mouth. 

_Ant. _ You tell me of a brave old Fellow. 

_Adol. _ When we had been some Time swimming at this Rate, and had madesome Way, the old Priest being a very tall Man, cries out, Be of goodHeart, 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 Cheststhat have been roll'd thither by the Sea. Nay, says he, I am sure I feelGround by the Scratching of my Toes. Having floated thus a littlelonger, 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 tookhis Opportunity, at the Ebbing of the Billows, he made what Haste hecould on his Feet, and when the Billows came again, he took Hold of hisKnees with his Hands, and bore up against the Billows, hiding himselfunder them as Sea Gulls and Ducks do, and at the Ebbing of the Wave, hewould start up and run for it. I seeing that this succeeded so well tohim, followed his Example. There stood upon the Shoar Men, who had longPikes handed from one to another, which kept them firm against the Forceof the Waves, strong bodied Men, and accustom'd to the Waves, and hethat was last of them held out a Pike to the Person swimming towardshim. All that came to Shoar, and laying hold of that, were drawn safelyto 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 aNumber?

_Adol. _ There we had Experience of the wonderful Humanity of the Nation, that supply'd us with all Necessaries with exceeding Chearfulness; asLodging, Fire, Victuals, Cloaths, and Money to bear our Charges when wewent away. 

_Ant. _ What Country was it?

_Adol. Holland. _

_Ant. _ There's no Nation more human, altho' they are encompass'd withsuch 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 orthree Days at _Lyons_? When I have once set out on a Journey, I an't atRest 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 nothave got away from. There are _Sirens_. No Body is better entertain'd athis 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 theEntertainment pleasant with Railleries, and pleasant Jests. And theWomen are very handsome there. First the Mistress of the House came andbad us Welcome, and to accept kindly what Fare we should have; afterher, comes her Daughter, a very fine Woman, of so handsome a Carriage, and so pleasant in Discourse, that she would make even _Cato_ himselfmerry, were he there: And they don't talk to you as if you were perfectStrangers, but as those they have been a long Time acquainted with, andfamiliar 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 theother Affairs of the House, and the welcoming of other Guests, therecomes a Lass, that supplies the Place of the Daughter, till she is atLeisure to return again. This Lass is so well instructed in the Knack ofRepartees, that she has a Word ready for every Body, and no Conceitcomes amiss to her. The Mother, you must know, was somewhat in Years. 

_Bert. _ But what was your Table furnish'd with? For Stories fill noBellies. 

_Will. _ Truly, so splendid, that I was amaz'd that they could afford toentertain their Guests so, for so small a Price. And then after Dinner, they entertain a Man with such facetious Discourse, that one cannot betired; 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, gigglingand playing wanton Tricks? They ask'd us if we had any foul Linnen towash; which they wash and bring to us again: In a word, we saw nothingthere but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they wouldevery 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 ownBrothers, or near Kinsfolks. 

_Bert. _ This Mode perhaps may become the _French_, but methinks the Wayof the _Germans_ pleases me better, which is more manly. 

_Will. _ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much totell how they entertain a Traveller. 

_Bert. _ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the sameevery where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guestwelcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, forthat they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the GermanGravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length oneputs his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stovestill Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell: Him you must askif you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may takeit for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where theStable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you pleaseyourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be anoted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for yourHorse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for thosethat shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen. If you find Faultwith any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look foranother Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly andsparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Careof your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt andall, for that is a common Room for all Comers. 

_Will. _ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you maychange your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you havea Mind to it. 

_Bert. _ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off yourBoots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang upyour 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 asfor the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will wantanother Water to wash that off. 

_Will. _ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacyin them. 

_Bert. _ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not goto Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten. 

_Will. _ Why so?

_Bert. _ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Companytogether, 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 intothe 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, anothercleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and inshort, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as therewas at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body ofanother Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they allstare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal broughtout 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 Thingstrange. 

_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, outcomes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and acrabbed 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 thereare in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in theStove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would betroublesome; and this with them, is accounted a principal Part of goodEntertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any onewho is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never solittle, 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, getyou another Inn then. 

_Will. _ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so manyto draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened withthe 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 stinkingBreaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has itsContagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it iscall'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And itis my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there isfrom those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of aPestilence?

_Bert. _ They are Persons of a strong Constitution, and laugh at, anddisregard 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 usedto, 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 inVogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grownout 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 areGuests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to havebeen made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted toevery Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take theirPlaces, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Pooror Rich, between the Master and Servant. 

_Will. _ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom hasdriven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Mannerwith 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, andthen a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guestsmay chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge isboiling. 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 setupon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin andsharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guestsshould privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine somewhere else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, asif they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, theyanswer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that havelodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If youdon't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen oftheir own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewingyou their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barkingStomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly thefirst has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in aSoup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service ofButcher'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, untiltheir Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewedFish, 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 theEntertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among theirScenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Carethat 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 Bodyshould say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit yourTime appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length, out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit butlittle differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by andby some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drinkmost, 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 payfor their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it iswonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come tobe warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring ina Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' theyare a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling uponyour Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think isa pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Hearttill near Midnight. 

_Will. _ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such atedious one. 

_Bert. _ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcelypleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the oldbearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles andsemi-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 Moneyone after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice ofthose who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, hegives 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 Felloware 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 Bedas 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 nothingelse but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that youcan 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 sixMonths 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 inthat Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in_England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both ofthe _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 inthem. 

_Will. _ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be onboard by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time weshall 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 anAge 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 backwith something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you lookduller 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 aMind 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 canscarce 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 inthe Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that theywould be ashamed to do before Men?

_Lu. _ What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preacha Sermon? Prithee put on a _Franciscan_'s Hood, and get up into aPulpit, 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 youfrom this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life inthe World. 

_Lu. _ Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one mustlive 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 aWhile that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter. 

_Lu. _ Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy oneanother, 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 payyou 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 Personsthat 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 youdo it?

_Lu. _ I would poison 'em sooner. 

_So. _ But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing thatyou can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live thisshameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that wouldbe 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 aretransported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, thisyou undergo voluntarily. 

_Lu. _ What is that?

_So. _ Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections toFather, 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, andthyself asham'd to come into their Sight. 

_Lu. _ Nay, I have made a very happy Exchange of Affections; for insteadof a few, now I have a great many, of which you are one, and whom I havealways esteem'd as a Brother. 

_So. _ Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it reallyis. Believe me, my _Lucretia_, she who has so many Friends, has never aone, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House ofOffice rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thouhast brought thyself. _Christ_ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem theewith his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in anheavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into whichall the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness. And if that leprous Infection they call the _French_ Pox han't yetseiz'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 onthy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothingbut a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and nowthou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hearyour Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunkenFellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work atHome, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd toendure, 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 nowbrings 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 Whorescan't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is moreimpious, and more like the Devil himself?

_Lu. _ Why, indeed, my _Sophronius_, almost all you say is very true. Buthow came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be thegreatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither morefrequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you havebeen at _Rome_. 

_So. _ I have so. 

_Lu. _ Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than theywent: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you?

_So. _ I'll tell you, because I did not go to _Rome_ with the sameIntent, 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 greatmany Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, bywhose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The NewTestament 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 heardso 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 theirEars, 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 noBody but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceiveyou'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 Kingdomof Heaven_. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It isbut a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yetI can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinheritedby my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenlyFather should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in theCase of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is noProvision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, Iimmediately 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 lastof 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 aConfessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind andBody, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, andSobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I shouldupon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, _Have Mercyupon me, O God_: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny tosome poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks heenjoin'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 muchStress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lustitself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priestimpose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with thePalsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you havebeen 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 wasneither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, andlongs 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 Girlyet, 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 intosome Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Placeand get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any ofthese. 

_Lu. _ My _Sophronius_, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'llfollow 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, myServant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come alittle after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; youshall 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 fromus, 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 creepingLettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Witswould 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, thoseyou call Lettuces are Beets. 

_Hi. _ God forbid. 

_Cr. _ It is as I tell you. See the Shape of 'em, and besides where isthe milky Juice? Where are their soft Prickles?

_Hi. _ Truly you make me doubt. Soho, call the Wench. _Margaret_, youHag, 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 aLettuce from a Beet. For I know you don't tell me truly who 'twas thatdiscover'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 callsme 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, thenpresently I'm _Tisiphone_, _Megaera_, _Alecto_, _Medusa_, _Baucis_, andwhatsoever 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 theDevil, than 'tis to lay him. 

_Gu. _ Ha, ha, ha: Very well said. As the Matter is, _Hilary_, you standin 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 isyour laying her with your _Greek_ Verse. A notable Conjurer indeed!

_Hi. _ _Crato_, What do you think of this Jade? I could have laid tengreat 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'tdo, _Mercury's_ Mace. 

_Cr. _ My _Margaret_, you know we Poets are a Sort of Enthusiasts, Iwon't say Mad-Men; prithee let me intreat you to let alone thisContention 'till another Time, and treat us with good Humour at thisSupper for my Sake. 

_Ma. _ What does he trouble me with his Verses for? Often when I am to goto Market he has never a Penny of Money to give me, and yet he's ahumming 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 anhonest Gentleman, that never beat your Brain about such Fooleries. Iwonder 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 Ican't tell what. 

_Cr. _ I'll assure you your Maid is not dumb. 

_Hi. _ They say a good Maid Servant ought especially to have threeQualifications; to be honest, ugly, and high-spirited, which the Vulgarcall evil. An honest Servant won't waste, an ugly one Sweet-Hearts won'twoo, and one that is high-spirited will defend her Master's Right; forsometimes there is Occasion for Hands as well as a Tongue. This Maid ofmine has two of these Qualifications, she's as ugly as she's surly; asto her Honesty I can't tell what to say to that. 

_Cr. _ We have heard her Tongue, we were afraid of her Hands upon yourAccount. 

_Hi. _ Take some of these Pompions: We have done with the Lettuces. For Iknow 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 Figstoo just gather'd, as you may see by the Milk in the Stalks. It iscustomary to drink Water after Figs, lest they clog the Stomach. Here isvery cool clear Spring Water that runs out of this Fountain, that isgood to mix with Wine. 

_Cr. _ But I can't tell whether I had best to mix Water with my Wine, orWine with Water; this Wine seems to me so likely to have been drawn outof the Muses Fountain. 

_Hi. _ Such Wine as this is good for Poets to sharpen their Wits. Youdull 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 havethe Company of so many learned Guests at my Table, I won't let 'em goaway without learning something of 'em. There is a Place in the Prologueof _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 illdescribing 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 beginfirst. _ When I was at _London_ in _Thomas Linacre's_ House, who is a Mantho' well skill'd in all Manner of Philosophy, yet he is very ready inall Criticisms in Grammar, he shew'd me a Book of great Antiquity whichhad 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 anExample of that which is spoken before is to be subjoin'd. He threatenedthat he would again find Fault with something in his Comedies who hadfound Fault with him, and he here denies that it ought to seem aReproach but an Answer. He that provokes begins the Quarrel; he thatbeing provok'd, replies, only makes his Defence or Answer. He promisesto give an Example thereof, _quale sit_, being the same with [Greek:oion] in _Greek_, and _quod genus, veluti_, or _videlicet_, or _puta_ inLatin. Then afterwards he brings a reproof, wherein the Adverb _prius_hath Relation to another Adverb, as it were a contrary one, whichfollows, _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 hehad lately published, he sets down the certain Places. I think that thisis the proper Reading, and the true Sense of the Comedian: If the chiefand 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 veryeasy 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 becut 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_, andis 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 wouldcertainly think we were bringing up again among ourselves theCountrymens 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 youhelp us out if you can. 

_Eu. _ To see how small a Matter sometimes puzzles Men, though they begood Scholars! The Preposition _ex_ belongs to the End of the foregoingVerse. 

 _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 ourFingers, 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 aSpondee, _venias_ an Anapæstus, _et ami_ another Anapæstus. 

_Ca. _ You have five Feet already, and there are three Syllables yetbehind, the first of which is long; so that thou canst neither make itan _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 itfrom your poor sincere Friends. 

_Ca. _ If my Memory does not fail me, I think I have read something ofthis 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 hadrather 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 therebe a Tribrach in the first Place, _a lau_ is a Spondee, _d'inveni_ aDactyl, _as et a_ a Dactyl, _micos_ a Spondee, _pares_ an Iambic. 

_Sb. Carinus_ hath indeed got us out of these Briars. But in the sameScene there is a Place, which I can't tell whether any Body has takenNotice 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 thisPlace that makes for a Threatning. Therefore it is my Opinion that thePoet 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 shallhave some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then itremains that I must intreat_ Chremes. Moreover the Interruption of_Sosia_, and _Simo_'s Anger against _Davus_ made too long aTransposition 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 notspoken the Truth. 

_Ca. _ Give me the Book, I'll shew you another doubtful Place. This Verseis 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 tothemselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don't remember that they anywhere conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read_Condonabitur_ impersonally, or _Condonabimus_, changing the Number ofthe Person. 

_Ma. _ Oh, this is like Poets Manners indeed! As soon as ever they areset down to Dinner they are at Play, holding up their Fingers, andporing upon their Books. It were better to reserve your Plays and yourScholarship for the second Course. 

_Cr. Margaret_ gives us no bad Counsel, we'll humour her; when we havefill'd our Bellies, we'll go to our Play again; now we'll play with ourFingers 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 twoDays. 

_Par. _ I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shalllike '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 greatDifficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil. 

_Ca. _ Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from aBeet. 

_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 Placein the Epodes of _Horace_, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wronginterpreted, and not only by _Mancinellus_, and other later Writers; butby _Porphyry_ himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings aRecantation 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 aVerb. I'll write down _Porphyry_'s Words, if we can believe 'em to behis: She is _exilis_, says he, under that Form, as though she werebecome deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a naturalLeanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive thatthe Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourthPlace admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she didindeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed longafter her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lustylying-in Women used to do. 

_Hi. _ We thank you _Sbrulius_, for giving us such fine Sauce to ourEggs. 

_Le. _ There is another Thing in the first Book of _Odes_ that is notmuch unlike this. The _Ode_ begins thus: _Tu ne quæ sieris. _ Now thecommon Reading is thus, _Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut meliusquicquid erit pati_. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, asif there were no Difficulty in it. Only _Mancinettus_ thinking theSentence 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 morethan 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 tocome, 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 aGourd 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 highlycommend 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 arecorrupted in many Places by unlearned Persons. I desire that you wouldmend '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 thereany 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 withthe ô represented by the character omega. ]] in the nominative Case isturned 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 theChange of the Tense sets off a Word. And it is ridiculous for us tofind Fault with _concipit_ when _parlurit_ follows. 

_Hi. _ Truly I have been puzzled at a great many such Things; nor will itbe amiss, if hereafter we bestow a little Time upon this Matter. Formethinks _Ambrose_ has not a little Grace in this Kind of Verse, for hedoes 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 commonwith him that it cannot seem to have been by Chance. If you would havean Example, _Deus Creator_. Here is a _Penthemimeris_, it follows, _omnium; Polique rector_, then follows, _vestiens; diem decoro_, andthen _lumine; noctem soporis_, then follows _gratia_. 

_Hi. _ But here's a good fat Hen that has laid me Eggs, and hatch'd meChickens 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 havesomething to propose. 

_Hi. _ Yes, if it be not too crabbed. 

_Ca. _ That it is not. I lately began to read _Seneca's_ Epistles, andstumbled, as they say, at the very Threshold. The Place is in the firstEpistle; _And if_, says he, _thou wilt but observe it, great Part of ourLife 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 thatwhich is to no Purpose_. In this Sentence, he seems to affect I can'ttell 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 ofone's Life is lost in Excess, Lust, Ambition, and other Vices; but amuch greater Part is lost in doing of nothing. Moreover they are said todo nothing, not who live in Idleness, but they who are busied aboutfrivolous Things which conduce nothing at all to our Happiness: Andthence 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 thatthe whole of Life is lost: Because when we are vitiously employ'd we aredoing what we should not do; when we are employ'd about frivolousMatters we do that we should not do; and when we study Philosophy, inthat 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 fallmanfully upon the Hen. I would not have you mistaken, I have no moreProvision for you. It agrees with what went before. _That is the basestLoss that comes by Negligence_, and he shews it by this Sentenceconsisting 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 myOpinion it ought to be read; _We foresee Death. _ For we foresee thoseThings which are a great Way off from us, when Death for the most Partis gone by us. 

_Le. _ If Philosophers do sometimes give themselves Leave to go asideinto the Meadows of the Muses, perhaps it will not be amiss for us, ifwe, 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 heentitles [Greek: Peri tôn elenchôn], the Argument of which is for themost Part common both to Rhetoricians and Philosophers, I happen'd tofall upon some egregious Mistakes of the Interpreters. And there is noDoubt but that they that are unskill'd in the _Greek_ have often miss'dit in many Places. For _Aristotle_ proposes a Sort of such Kind ofAmbiguity as arises from a Word of a contrary Signification. [Greek: hoti manthanousin oi epistamenoi ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oigrammatikoi to gar manthanein omônymon, to te xunienai chrômenon têepistêmê, kai to lambanein tên epistêmên. ] And they turn it thus. _Because intelligent Persons learn; for Grammarians are onlytongue-learn'd; for to learn is an equivocal Word, proper both to himthat 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 whichcannot 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 asmuch as _doctrinam accipere_, or _doctrinam tradere. _ But whether thisbe true or no I can't tell. I rather think [Greek: manthanein], is ofdoubtful Signification with the _Greeks_, as _cognoscere_ is among the_Latins. _ For he that informs, and the Judge that learns, both of themknow the Cause. And so I think among the _Greeks_ the Master is said[Greek: manthanein] whilst he hears his Scholars, as also the Scholarswho learn of him. But how gracefully hath he turn'd that [Greek: ta garapostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi], _nam secundum osgrammatici discunt: For the Grammarians are tongue-learn'd_; since itought to be translated, _Nam grammatici, quæ dictitant, docent:Grammarians teach what they dictate_. Here the Interpreters ought tohave 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 Errorin the _Greek_ Copy, and that it ought to be written [Greek: homônumontô te xunienai kai tô lambanein]. And a little after he subjoins anotherExample of Ambiguity, which arises not from the Diversity of theSignification of the same Word, but from a different Connection, [Greek:to boulesthai labein me tous polemious], _velleme accipere pugnantes. Tobe willing that I should receive the fighting Men_: For so he translatesit, instead of _velle me capere hostes, to be willing that I take theEnemies;_ and if one should read [Greek: boulesthe], it is moreperspicuous. _Vultis ut ego capiam hostes? Will ye that I take theEnemies?_ 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 Itake the Enemies?_ If it follows, then this will be the Sense, _Are yewilling that the Enemies should take me?_ He adds also another Exampleof the same Kind, [Greek: ara ho tis ginôskei, touto ginôskei]. I. E. _Anquod quis novit hoc novit. _ The Ambiguity lies in [Greek: touto]. If itshould be taken in the accusative Case, the Sense will be this;_Whatsoever it is that any Body knows, that Thing he knows to be. _ Butif in the nominative Case, the Sense will be this, _That Thing which anyBody knows, it knows;_ as though that could not be known that knows notagain 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 onesees, does that Thing see; but he sees a Post, does the Post thereforesee?_ The Ambiguity lies again in [Greek: touto], as we shew'd before. But these Sentences may be render'd into _Latin_ well enough; but thatwhich follows cannot possibly by any Means be render'd, [Greek: Ara hosy phês einai, touto sy phês einai; phês de lithon einai sy ara phêslithos einai]. Which they thus render, _putas quod tu dicis esse, hoc tudicis esse: dicis autem lapidem esse, tu ergo lapis dicis esse. _ Praytell me what Sense can be made of these Words? For the Ambiguity liespartly in the Idiom of the _Greek_ Phrase, which is in the major andminor. Although in the major there is another Ambiguity in the two Words[Greek: o] and [Greek: touto], which if they be taken in the nominativeCase, the Sense will be, _That which thou sayest thou art, that thouart. _ But if in the accusative Case the Sense will be, _Whatsoever thousayst is, that thou sayst is;_ and to this Sense he subjoins [Greek:lithon phês einai], but to the former Sense he subjoins [Greek: sy araphês lithos einai]. _Catullus_ once attempted to imitate the Proprietyof 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 Commentarieson 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 sigontalegein, to te ton legonta sigan, kai to ta legomena. ] That they haverender'd thus; _Et putas, est tacentem dicere? Duplex enim est, tacentemdicere; et hunc dicere tacentem, et quæ dicuntur. _ Are not these Wordsmore 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 tospeak while he is silent?_ This Interrogation has a two-Fold Sense, theone of which is false and absurd, and the other may be true; for itcannot possibly be that he who speaks, should not speak what he doesspeak; that is that he should be silent while he is speaking; but it ispossible, that he who speaks may be silent of him who speaks. Althoughthis Example falls into another Form that he adds a little after. Andagain, I admire, that a little after, in that kind of Ambiguity thatarises from more Words conjoin'd, the _Greeks_ have chang'd the Word_Seculum_ into the Letters, [Greek: epistasthai ta grammata], seeingthat the _Latin_ Copies have it, _scire seculum_. For here arises adouble Sense, either _that the Age itself might know something_, or_that somebody might know the Age_. But this is an easier Translation ofit into [Greek: aiôna] or [Greek: kosmon], than into [Greek: grammata]. For it is absurd to say that Letters know any Thing; but it is noabsurdity to say, _something is known to our Age_, or _that any oneknows his Age_. And a little after, where he propounds an Ambiguity inthe Accent, the Translator does not stick to put _Virgil's_ Wordsinstead 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; _Cujuscomputrescit pluviâ_; _by whose Rain it putrifies_; but if [Greek: ou]be acuted and exile, it sounds, _Non computrescit pluviâ; it does notputrify with Rain_; and this indeed is taken out of the _Iliad_ [Greek:ps]. Another is, [Greek: didomen de oi euchos aresthai]: the Accentbeing placed upon the last Syllable but one, signifies, _grant to him_;but plac'd upon the first Syllable [Greek: didomen], signifies, _wegrant_. 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 obtainhis Desire. For [Greek: didomen], is used for [Greek: didonai]. Forthese two of _Homer_, these two are added out of our Poets; as that outof 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 thisAmbiguity lies not in the Accent only, but also arises from theComposition. 

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 aSophistical 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 seekfor 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 havesat long enough already. 

_Hi. _ I am afraid, if we should philosophize any longer, she'll come andoverthrow the Table, as _Xantippe_ did to _Socrates_; therefore it isbetter for us to take our Sweet-Meats in the Garden; and there we maywalk and talk freely; and let every one gather what Fruit he likes bestoff 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 thatis here, don't spare whatever you find. And now if you think you havewalk'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 Gardenneatly trimm'd up, and furnish'd with various Delicacies, and at thesame Time, has a Mind adorn'd with no Sciences nor Virtues. 

_Le. _ We shall believe the Muses themselves are amongst us, if thoushalt give us the same Sentence in Verse. 

_Hi. _ That's a great Deal more easy to me to turn Prose into Verse, thanit 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 bevery entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence intoseveral 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, orMedlars, 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 fromversifying, that he may attend the more diligently. 

_Cr. _ I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo andNightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should singbest. 

_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 mostSentences. 

_Le. _ How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed willfurnish me with what to say. _As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so isYouth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers;you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pass not awaywithout Fruit. _

_Hi. _ It is a Theme very fit for a Verse. 

_Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every onehath his natural Gift. _

_Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things forhuman Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: Sothe Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields agreat many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with variousVices. _

_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 flourishand spring forth. _

_Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off fromhonest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek forsuch Recreations and Divertisements, as are not contrary to Learning. _

_Hi. _ O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: Butbefore we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper norunprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into _Greek_ Verse, asoften as we have turn'd it into _Latin. _ And let _Leonard_ begin, thathas 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'sbringing I know not what Dainties. 

_Hi. _ If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. Whathast brought us?

_Ma. _ Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed tostand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet youPoets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness. 

_Cr. Margaret_ says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Hometo Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind ofContest. 

_Hi. _ But who do you give the Prize to?

_Cr. _ For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome butI. 

_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 tellwhether I should bid you be well or no. 

_Ba. _ In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me beso. _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 harmlessThunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that areominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication. 

_Au. _ You're right. 

_Ba. _ I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt theBlow of the Thunderbolt. 

_Au. _ How so?

_Ba. _ Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the lesssound. 

_Au. _ But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the lessit is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike theMountains and the Seas. 

_Ba. _ They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effectupon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or aVessel of Brass. 

_Au. _ Why, and that affrights too. 

_Ba. _ It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. Nonebut 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 aCoal before now. 

_Ba. _ Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were somuch 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 andrepent. 

_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 histreating 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 thePhysician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch wasseized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for theAssistance of a Doctor. 

_Au. _ But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemperthan I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visitsa sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician. 

_Ba. _ Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in theDiseases 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 hasbeen 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 doingany 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 todiscourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be aPhysician to you. 

_Ba. _ Do, with all my Heart. 

_Au. _ Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians areallowed 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 belook'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 Heavenand Earth. 

_Ba. _ Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and theAngels 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 Beginningnor 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 hisGoodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankindwhen fallen. 

_Au. _ These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But whatBenefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them?

_Ba. _ When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly tohim, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels isnothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teachto have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done byhim, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, howimpossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrustingmy own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When Iconsider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believeall Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they mayseem 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 thinkthere is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a truePenitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks inFaith. 

_Au. _ Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him tobe so?

_Ba. _ By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust andConfidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magicArts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equallingnothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife, nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to laydown my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possiblyperish who commits himself wholly to him. 

_Au. _ What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothingbut God alone?

_Ba. _ If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, itis for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring allThings 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 thinkconcerning 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 mortalMan?

_Ba. _ That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: Andby Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father, whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, Iattribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owealso to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father tobestow all Things on us through him. 

_Au. _ Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lordthan God?

_Ba. _ Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, ofSovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who isabsolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of theGodhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' theFather also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God theFather. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Placeamong 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 beengiven, 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 mychief 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, theHonour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for noother 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 theOperation 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 beborn in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of ourConception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, thatwe 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 suspectthat an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe thisvery Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowedout, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the _Jews_ lookedfor so many Ages?

_Ba. _ I believe nothing more firmly. 

_Au. _ Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead usto 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 Sinwhatsoever?

_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 tothe Will of his Father. 

_Au. _ Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and mostdear to him, suffer all these Things?

_Ba. _ That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who wereguilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name. 

_Au. _ Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did sufferthem, 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 itcould 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 wasmeet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World untoSalvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World, and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenlyThings; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazenSerpent that _Moses_ set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix hisEyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfilthe Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, _say ye among the Nations, Godhath reign'd from a Tree_. 

_Au. _ Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed withMyrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard andnatural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen setthere?

_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, hisResurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be ascertain as possible could be. 

_Au. _ Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell?

_Ba. _ St. _Cyprian_ affirms that this Clause was not formerly insertedeither in the _Roman_ Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches, neither is it recorded in _Tertullian_, a very ancient Writer. And yetnotwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with theProphecy 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 theApostle _Peter_, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of theAuthor whereof no Man ever doubted, ) writes after this Manner, _Beingput to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also hecame and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison_. Butthough I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not sufferanything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that hemight destroy the Kingdom of Satan. 

_Au. _ Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that hemight restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did herise 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 Safetyof our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that webeing dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him byBaptism, 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 shouldappropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equallylift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Mennow 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 theMilk of the Virgin _Mary_, what do you think would have been, had heabode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would thosePeculiarities of his Body have occasioned?

_Au. _ Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at theright Hand of the Father?

_Ba. _ Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all hisFather's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and hepresented 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 apowerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven. 

_Au. _ Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judgethe Quick and the Dead?

_Ba. _ As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretoldconcerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, thatwhatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass. We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of theProphets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. Weshall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory ofhis Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and ofevery Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, _Greeks_, or _Scythians_, shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming heshall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning ofthe World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and beholdhis Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall bethere as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will, from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast theDevil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternalPunishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief toany. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to aFellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have theDay 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, andthe Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and NewTestament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attainsSalvation. 

_Au. _ Why is he called a Spirit?

_Ba. _ Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds arequicken'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 iswithout a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according totheir divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because hebreathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even asthe 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 theProperty of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds fromhim 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 wasbegotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the _Spirit, andthat 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 allThings 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 theFather: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit isGod, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; thereforethe chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in theFather alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it maybe so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, butused in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms ofFather, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Naturecomprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the threePersons. 

_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 tosay, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, whoagree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, whoput their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spiritof 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 Godalone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church, properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet itconsists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, anddeceive others. 

_Au. _ What do you think of the Communion of Saints?

_Ba. _ This Article is not all meddled with by _Cyprian_, when heparticularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used;for he thus connects them: _For there followeth after this Saying, theholy 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 holyChurch_; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of oneGod, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the sameSpirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communionof all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from theBeginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of theMembers of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds ofone may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. Butout of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further hisSalvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; andtherefore it follows, _the Forgiveness of Sins_; because out of theChurch there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himselfaway with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, Isay, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered bythe Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and afterBaptism, 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 believethis, 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'sCreed, it is added, _of this Flesh_. 

_Au. _ How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'dout of one Thing into another, can rise again the same?

_Ba. _ He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it ahard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath beenchanged 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 bringto 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 thisWorld, 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 theFrogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is atwofold 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 theResurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body andSoul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, oldAge, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; butbeing made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Norshall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; butshall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On thecontrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon thewicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduringeverlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with theGripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon. 

_Au. _ Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, andunfeignedly?

_Ba. _ I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so surethat 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 manyothers 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, thatit may be suitable to my Profession. 

_Au. _ How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between youand the orthodox?

_Ba. _ Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are notdispleased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; andafter Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give youboth Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; andafter that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast ofmine, 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 mightbetter 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_, whichwere worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that aMan 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, comeon, let me dine with you then. 

_Ba. _ You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes aDoctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, thatthe 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 forgotthat 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 _theCoachman. _

_Euseb. _ What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do notsee 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 comenearer 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, orprovidential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none ofus have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why _Mercury_ withhis 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 oneBusiness, 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 willingthat 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 suchheavy 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 moreDanger 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 getto _Antwerp_ the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worthminding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shallhave the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly inmutual Conversation. 

_Po. _ _Glycion_ is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journeydoes the Office of a Coach; and according to the _Greek_ Proverb, weshall 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 bemerry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades afterso 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 anyDifference it was very little. 

_Pa. _ But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycionhas nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough tobe 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, orthe 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 greyHairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth arewhite 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 ofcoming to be old so soon. 

_Po. _ I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither youwent when you left _Paris. _

_Gl. _ I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had beenthere almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life tochuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to myfuture Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successfulto some, and what had been unsuccessful to others. 

_Po. _ I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggotas any in the World, when you were at _Paris. _

_Gl. _ Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, youmust 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, aMan of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of ageneral Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the mosthappy 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 acompetent 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 Fortuneneither. 

_Po. _ Why so?

_Gl. _ I'll tell you; some love before they chuse, I made my Choice withJudgment first, and then lov'd afterwards, and nevertheless I marriedthis Woman more for the Sake of Posterity than for any carnalSatisfaction. With her I liv'd a very pleasant Life, but not above eightYears. 

_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 ahigher Post, but I chose this because it was creditable enough to secureme from Contempt, and is free from troublesome Attendance: And it issuch, that no Body need object against me that I live only for myself, Ihave also something to spare now and then to assist a Friend. With thisI live content, and it is the very Height of my Ambition. And then Ihave taken Care so to execute my Office, to give more Reputation to myOffice 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 myfellow Citizens. 

_Eu. _ But that's one of the difficultest Things in the World, when withvery good Reason there is this old Saying: _He that has no Enemies hasno Friends_; and _Envy is always an Attendant on Felicity_. 

_Gl. _ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but aMediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantageto myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much asI could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance ofBusiness. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I keptmyself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gainingthe ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I soserve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case ofany Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to softenit by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by goodOffices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoidContention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than myFriend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, Iaffront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute andresalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do ordoes, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoyhis Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: Inever am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen tocome to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absentPersons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them withKindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise betweenMen, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels orheighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderatethem, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clearof 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, moreafflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionatelywish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd theComfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence sawit 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 myselfwith Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased. 

_Pol. _ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially thefirst having been so happy a Match to you?

_Gl. _ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake ofChildren, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again. 

_Pol. _ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without aBedfellow. 

_Gl. _ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider theBenefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who willbe for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed tobe, 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 goodin it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to thatTemper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness forany thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortunehappens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if anything 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 manyof them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be fromthe Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly. 

_Pol. _ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Angerof the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequentlyare. 

_Gl. _ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make anImpression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus withmyself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which willbe never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me atfirst, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I besure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, togo 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 anespecial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit anyThing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of myChildren. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guiltyConscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before Ihave reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountainof 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 ofDeath?

_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 besure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else butto live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and aMan can't live happily that does not live piously. 

_Pa. _ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long inthe same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself. 

_Gl. _ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; butthen, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man'sExperience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem tomyself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more inHistories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Yearstogether, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about twoMiles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become aCountry-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to theCity a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd fromthe 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 Dietor the Country Air. 

_Eu. _ Don't you study sometimes?

_Gl. _ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make aDiversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profitof my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation oflearned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to myBooks above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, andwalk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what Ihave read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and aftera While I return to my Book again. 

_Eu. _ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel noneof 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 anything deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. Ihave laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myselfyoung, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Ageupon 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 yourrakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_. 

_Po. _ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was bigwith Child. 

_Eu. _ What, into your Father's House?

_Po. _ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who wasto 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 therewas a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave offFeasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, myFather continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cacklingGossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, Imarch'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought mesome 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 inDebt. 

_Eu. _ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you?

_Po. _ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily thanthey will a Spendthrift. 

_Pa. _ And what next?

_Po. _ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in goodearnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon thisCondition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one ofour own Country. 

_Eu. _ Was she your Wife?

_Po. _ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, butthere 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 ofProphecy. Perhaps they all died without Children. 

_Po. _ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I haveat 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, Iwould marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not havetwo or three, when one Cock has so many Hens. 

_Eu. _ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and thatyou have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings onold Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours, and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But whomaintains your Family all this While?

_Po. _ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I workhard with my Hands. 

_Eu. _ Have you given over Study then?

_Po. _ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Masterof 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 somany Times a Widower. 

_Po. _ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always putan End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth theEpitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration ofhis Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he istwo or three Years older than I. 

_Pa. _ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such aRomance. 

_Eu. _ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it. 

_Pa. _ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly toenter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what Ihad; 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 variousCountries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners ofMen, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. Fromwhich 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 Imight begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time Icourted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone offwithout 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 thanthose of _Scilly_. 

_Eu. _ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is theName of it?

_Pa. _ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamousfor the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, theDevil'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 sucha 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 madeup again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes thefirst 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 mustexpect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head andEars 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 meoff, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'da Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberateseriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether Ishould throw myself into a Monastery. 

_Eu. _ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, theeasier Way of Dying. 

_Pa. _ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'dto me the most painful. 

_Gl. _ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that theymay live more comfortably there. 

_Pa. _ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole outof my own Country. 

_Gl. _ Whither did you go at last?

_Pa. _ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order thatwear 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'dinto _Scotland_. 

_Gl. _ What displeas'd you among them?

_Pa. _ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enoughfor 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 theCarthusians. 

_Eu. _ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead tothe 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 amongthe _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; andthen I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reasonof their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid Ishould lose it all. 

_Po. _ Whither did you take your next Flight?

_Pa. _ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of theOrder of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, thatthey are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, thatfor 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: Andbesides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which_Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit beingchang'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 goodCompany; 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 aMonk 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 themselvespresently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily toput my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And asoften as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that Ihad lost, tormented my Mind. 

_Gl. _ Well, and what after this?

_Pa. _ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I metwith any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up anddown, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at firstSight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Somecarried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some aparty-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some aquadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, thatI might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I foundin reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Crosson a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tiredwith Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holinessall at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so wouldreturn 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, andnot to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the oldProverb; _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 Risqueneither, 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 Numberof foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to_Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who beingseventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless hehad 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 fromthence?

_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'dinto 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 theExperience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier'sLife. 

_Eu. _ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones. 

_Pa. _ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than Idid in the Monasteries. 

_Eu. _ And what did you do after this?

_Pa. _ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to myBusiness of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward inPursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came intomy 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 ofMendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly overSea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enterinto 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 goneto Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time inthe Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began tothink 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 havingspent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, Ireturn'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myselfto my old Business of Traffick. 

_Gl. _ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and weretransform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could youbehave yourself with a proper Decorum?

_Pa. _ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act severalParts?

_Eu. _ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort ofLife, which you most approve of. 

_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which Ifollow. 

_Eu. _ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it. 

_Pa. _ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that isentirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the beston't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much toacquaint 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 itdoes 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 deliberatewhat Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment myInclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary wasoffered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I acceptedit. 

_Gl. _ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People. 

_Eu. _ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth theaccepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so manyAdvantages 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 oftheir Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have anAversion to Learning. 

_Eu. _ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, andassociate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that arebad 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 anda half, and the rest of the Time Divinity. 

_Po. _ Why so?

_Eu. _ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and alsosometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preachedsometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I haveled a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not beingambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it hadbeen offered me. 

_Pa. _ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions haveliv'd, that were our Familiars. 

_Eu. _ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not farfrom the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up thesame Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure. 

_Hugh. [a Waggoner. ]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up thisRubbish?

_Harry the Waggoner. _ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp?

_Hugh. _ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bedof Nettles, to make them grow warm again. 

_Harry. _ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into aPond 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 DozenCarthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they cameout black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some nobleExploit. 

_Hugh. _ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a deadWeight to my Waggon. 

_Harry. _ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, havemade 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 wedone you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so muchas 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 aBody'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 hisHead into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; anda 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 needsbe very lean. 

_Ber. _ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall wedo?

_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 rushdirectly 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 toDeath. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and takeit 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_, goodMan. 

_Innk. _ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but Iwould not have many of them in my House. 

_Con. _ Why so?

_Innk. _ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but youhave 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 hashe 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 aboutyou; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it isbetter with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives andDaughters. 

_Con. _ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degeneratefrom 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 Ihave 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 yourPocket; 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, thrustingher Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one atConfession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. Thereyou see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in oneHand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse. 

_Con. _ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathedwith this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses, Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garmentcovers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makesno 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 yourReckonings. 

_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 fornothing. 

_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 yousufficiently. 

_Innk. _ But these Words won't keep my Family. 

_Con. _ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't betroublesome 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 bedevour'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 bewhat we will, we are Men. 

_Innk. _ I have lost my Hearing. 

_Con. _ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind theStove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, ifthe 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 youthrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you intohis. 

_Innk. _ Good Words, I beseech you. 

_Wife. _ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds bythis small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are goodMen, and thou'lt thrive the better for't. 

_Innk. _ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon theMatter. 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 oftenyou have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. Atleast, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don'tthrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you whenyou are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles andBuffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors?

_Innk. _ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mindyour Kitchen. 

_Wife. _ Well, so I will. 

_Bert. _ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope allwill be well by and by. 

_Con. _ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that noGuests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had. 

_Bert. _ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine fromthe last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for whatI 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 withthem, 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 toDay, 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 youoften. 

_Innk. _ Oftner than I would have it so. 

_Con. _ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake hisServants. 

_Innk. _ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospelforbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have greatSleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, andFlesh 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, butColeworts and a little rusty Bacon. 

_Con. _ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us whatwe 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 thisupon us. 

_Innk. _ Did your Dinner cost you nothing?

_Con. _ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us theseThings 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 withoutHorses, 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 aboutwith Budgets. 

_Con. _ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesushimself. 

_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 untoyou_. 

_Innk. _ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom ofGod. _

_Con. _ That we do with all our Might. 

_Innk. _ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, sothat it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no suchThing. 

_Con. _ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matterrequir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for theConviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but areligious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick thanto 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 givenhim. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunityoffers, 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 Bodyany 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 ofa large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People havean Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and thereforethey 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 heought 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_ isnot enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogsthemselves. 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 goodone to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings moreCustomers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not herenow. 

_Con. _ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for ourTurn. 

_Innk. _ What! Did you go to him then?

_Con. _ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us awayfrom the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither. 

_Innk. _ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come becausehe 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 hemakes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Needof more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that heis 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 whathe has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful tolet others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you inshort; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears itsown 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 youdon'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 aPastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is theBishop's Business. 

_Innk. _ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Menyourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? Fora 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 tobe so. 

_Con. _ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear thisHabit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to begood 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 manydifferent 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 ofSaints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by thedifferent Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that everyone may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that theremay be no Confusion in the Army. 

_Con. _ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us followsone 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 bestarv'd with Cold. 

_Innk. _ I confess it. 

_Con. _ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers theHead, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Userequires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a longone for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one inWinter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Timesa Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon theytake a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; butevery one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment ofours 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 ourCowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are tosit 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 toaccustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we beginto indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be noEnd; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer somany Purposes. 

_Innk. _ I allow that. 

_Con. _ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, ifyou should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that youacted 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 herhandsomly. 

_Con. _ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any onewears?

_Innk. _ O yes, in this Case it is very material. 

_Con. _ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict aPunishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of adifferent Sex. 

_Innk. _ And they are in the Right for it. 

_Con. _ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dresshimself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like anold Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if anold 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 aPriest 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 aninferior 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 aFeather 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 hisColours, 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 betweena 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 Manin 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 notdiffer much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells. 

_Con. _ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, ifwe really are what we pretend to be. 

_Innk. _ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are agreat many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than thosethat 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 bythe 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 hadthe Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew ofGravity, 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 athis Jester should change Coats with him?

_Innk. _ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Propositionbe 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'sfoolish. 

_Innk. _ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does ratherprovoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Foolsthey become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores aMan, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and aFool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under theProtection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you aredistinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause issufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear adifferent Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, anApothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if youare Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? Ifyou 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 hisIndustry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwardsthe Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gavesome Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, orsacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not beenashamed to wear it. 

_Innk. _ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that?

_Con. _ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimesfrom Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think itridiculous 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 hisFace, 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 woreCloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wearsuch. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, thanto wear a transparent Garment. 

_Innk. _ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends uponCustom and the Opinion of People. 

_Con. _ Why so?

_Innk. _ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at myHouse, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries latelydiscovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they cameto an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as thegreatest 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'dunder a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but notabove an Hour in a Day. 

_Con. _ What Work did they do?

_Innk. _ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them insteadof Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and whenthis was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mindto do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punishVices, but none more severely than Adultery. 

_Con. _ What's the Punishment?

_Innk. _ They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But forMen that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all hisLife 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 toallow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to thegreatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off aPiece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf'sSkin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair ofStockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of aNet, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side ofhis 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 ofFeathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him moreridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? Andyet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are wellenough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like theDress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous. 

_Innk. _ Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much asthey can possibly. 

_Con. _ But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers likean _Indian_, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a madMan?

_Innk. _ Stark mad. 

_Con. _ And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madnessstill: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom willbear 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 wiseMen always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Womandragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to bemeasured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are notasham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thingis Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has onceobtain'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, ornot to differ?

_Con. _ I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not tojudge 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 isdeeply 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 oneHabit: 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 himselfand his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman:Neither did _Francis_ invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poorCountry-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it intoSuperstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to theDress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now inFashion, than my Dress is from yours?

_Innk. _ We do see it. 

_Con. _ Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques ofantient 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 Dresseswere 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 beburied but in a Franciscan's Habit. 

_Con. _ They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats orFools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know awicked 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 theAir, as there is in your Habits. 

_Con. _ What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But itis 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 giveme 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_ afteranother?

_Innk. _ Yes. 

_Con. _ And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is therein Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dressof 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 Dressfrom 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 heliv'd; and _Francis_ from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and sofor the rest. 

_Innk. _ So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless youlive holier. 

_Con. _ Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we area greater Stumbling to the Simple. 

_Innk. _ Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, norHabit, nor Rule, nor Profession?

_Con. _ Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfatherswhat you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you wanta human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do youwant a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Considerwhat you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and youwill find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professedthe 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, thatare not according to the Gospel. 

_Con. _ What are they?

_Innk. _ One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and anotherslanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselveshonest or not. 

_Con. _ You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if youcannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or drawon 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 Waterinto the Wine. 

_Con. _ That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up withunwholsome 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, andChildren, and Parents, and Kindred?

_Innk. _ Oftentimes. 

_Con. _ You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but oneFather, 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 havebut a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number. 

_Innk. _ How so?

_Con. _ Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than theKindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience theTruth of what he has promised. 

_Innk. _ In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if Idon't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do usthe Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen tocome 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 verybecoming, 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 aCourtier, 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 teachWisdom?

_Ant. _ But it becomes Ladies to have something that is diverting, topass away their leisure Hours. 

_Mag. _ Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly?

_Ant. _ You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantlytogether: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is LadiesBusiness. 

_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 agood Life. 

_Ant. _ Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that doeslive 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 apleasant Life. 

_Mag. _ Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outwardThings, or from the Mind?

_Ant. _ From outward Things. 

_Mag. _ O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me inwhat you suppose a pleasant Life to consist?

_Ant. _ Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what youplease, in Wealth, and in Honours. 

_Mag. _ But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should youlive 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 ofthe Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happieror 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 livepleasantly?

_Ant. _ I would not live that Sort of Life. 

_Mag. _ I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is itthat 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 haveyou, why you would not have your Monks bookish?

_Ant. _ Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out ofthe 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 thatanswers 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 yourselfout, 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 aftermy 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 grantyou this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sortof Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, andyourself into a Horse?

_Ant. _ No, by no Means. 

_Mag. _ By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser thanyourself?

_Ant. _ It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, ifI am but a Man myself. 

_Mag. _ Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither hasWisdom, 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 thisHoushold-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 withoutWisdom?

_Ant. _ I believe not. 

_Mag. _ This Wisdom I learn from Books. 

_Ant. _ I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will notsee 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 theirChastity. 

_Mag. _ Why then do _French_ Books that are stuff'd with the mosttrifling 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 yourWay of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know anyThing of _Latin_. 

_Ant. _ The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rareunusual Thing for a Woman to understand _Latin. _

_Mag. _ What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worstExamples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do withCustom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought toaccustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which wasuncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant wouldbecome 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 maybe able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned andwise Authors, and faithful Counsellors?

_Ant. _ Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough ofthemselves. 

_Mag. _ What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as formyself, 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, orsitting 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 memad?

_Ant. _ That's the common Saying. 

_Mag. _ But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do wesee grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up allNight tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has madePeople 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 notlike yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him. 

_Ant. _ Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all wemust die. 

_Mag. _ Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, hadyou 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 toattain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much tobe at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of whichwill 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 Womanthat is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, onethat knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twicea 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 uponan 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 theyconverse 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 morecommon. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learningas for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity asyou 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_. Sothat unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, thatwe shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in theChurches, and take Possession of your Mitres. 

_Ant. _ God forbid. 

_Mag. _ Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as youhave begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure youa Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, andyou 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 tosee me, I'll treat you more pleasantly. 

_Mag. _ After what Manner?

_Ant. _ Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, andlaugh. 

_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 whichis 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 abit of a Maid any where. 

_Al. _ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! Howneat 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 threeGraces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'emmore charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments ofMusick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! Howbecomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowingand 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 Bodycan 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 asyou?

_Al. _ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clearSpring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capableof 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 Artwould open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plagueyourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest youshould 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 aHedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. Buthowever, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make aNoise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, mostwelcome 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 sofine 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 andAsses 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; forthere will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or aTemple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred anywhere else. 

_Al. _ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour toour 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 Worldover. 

_Al. _ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palacesof the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere thegreat _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, whohas approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Sonof _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be agreater Man than his Father?

_Mu. _ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth theHappiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberalStudies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left twobrothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_. 

_Al. _ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'dwith 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 desirableThings so hastily!

_Mu. _ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dyingwith great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of aCollege at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teachpublickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring agreat Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'llreside 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 Weddingas 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 believeshe 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 andaccomplish'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, isgoing 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 trueLovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that noDifference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall neverhear 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 itshall increase the Pleasure. 

_Al. _ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could everbe 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 beenchang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; andinstead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flownabout. 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 Graceswere out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper willalways 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 butseldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthlydrunken _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 beexactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choiceOintment 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 majesticaland beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is ahomely 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 sharplittle Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentleFires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate theLover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocalAffection. 

_Al. _ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's ablessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hearthe 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! blessthe 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 owndown, for her Husband's Life. _

TERPSICHORE. _May he love her with stronger Flame, But much morehappy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'dMate. _

ERATO. _May she love him with no less Flame, But with much betterFate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate. _

CALLIOPE. _For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to thefamous_ Nasica. 

URANIA. _The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be. _

POLYHYMNIA. _May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equaltheir Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on themwait. _

_Al. _ I should very much envy _Peter Ægidius_ so much Happiness, butthat 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 Isay to the rest?

_Mu. _ I'll tell you in your Ear. 

_Al. _ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainlybe 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, asif 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 soeverit is?

_Ans. _ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebodyto 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 wasa Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, aswell 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 theLife. 

_Ans. _ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not farfrom _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 leadsinto an open Field from a little Bridge. 

_Tho. _ I remember it. 

_Ans. _ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, ofa Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that wereevery now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul ofsomebody 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 takesDelight 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 sameKind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of theCompany were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was awonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there. _Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breastwith the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to anAir of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! Theythat rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell againto signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, sayshe, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring toknow what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointingwith his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, thatmonstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in aCircle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, everynow and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he mightnot seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation ofhim, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they couldnot 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 didpredict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mightyPleasure in the Folly of these People. 

_Tho. _ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of theApparition. 

_Ans. _ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in_Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they addthe same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, thisMan 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 inthis Play. 

_Ans. _ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of thisApparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heardof the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as hewas a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poorSoul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in anyDoubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walknear 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 hearboth more safely and better. 

_Tho. _ Well, what then?

_Ans. _ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Huntingor Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away allOpportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walksabout, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himselfin a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, byspeaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow ofit, 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, youwould have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End_Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes theBusiness of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, incontriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, forhe was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the mostpowerful 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 theBramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very largeCircle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. Andall this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there agreat 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 _AgnusDei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselvesagainst evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to beso formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be anevil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for allthis, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined totake some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid, that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, thewhole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priestthere-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; andindeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was aMan fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being preparedand in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priestenter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made amiserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and_Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings fromthence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a greatmany of them. 

_Tho. _ Well, what do they do?

_Ans. _ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Firealong with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew theFire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle. 

_Tho. _ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat uponPeople?

_Ans. _ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have beenmischievous to them. 

_Tho. _ How so?

_Ans. _ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of theFire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End ofthe first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered intoDiscourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter, enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-dæmonsappear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, andbreathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break intothe Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by thePower and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into_Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with greatSolemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with theVehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at apretty 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 veryunluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope overthe Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though theywere beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both thePriest 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 thanquit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over theMatter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what greatDanger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evilSpirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firmPersuasion, that there was no Dæmon, let him be ever so mischievous orimpudent, 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 Tricksas these. 

_Ans. _ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgentAffair 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 ina Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through hisShrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Placewhere this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way offin the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a ruefulGroaning. 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, andmaking a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, itis mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, asif he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if hewas beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holyWater, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when thisguardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with theSoul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that hewas the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered_Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then theybeing Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ mightdeliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a longDiscourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it wasnot 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 promisedto come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. Theymeet 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 tothe Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartilyaffected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, thatit was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Tormentsof an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. Therehappened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism. 

_Tho. _ Prithee what was that?

_Ans. _ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted theDevil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do, break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with hisExorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last criesout, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with aWench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, itseemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched withthis Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, andwhispered 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 observinga _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing himSatisfaction. 

_Tho. _ What was that?

_Ans. _ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, bywhich 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 theCircle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil'sHeart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if Ihad 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 theDevil's Memory, that he can never be able to twit you in the Teeth forit. 

_Tho. _ What a ridiculous Conceit do you tell me of?

_Ans. _ But to draw towards a Conclusion of the Matter: This Dialoguewith the Ghost held for some Days; at last it came to this Issue: TheExorcist asking the Soul, If there was any Way by which it mightpossibly be delivered from its Torments, it answered, it might, if theMoney that it had left behind, being gotten by Cheating, should berestored. Then, says _Faunus_, What if it were put into the Hands ofgood People, to be disposed of to pious Uses? The Spirit reply'd, Thatmight 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 wherethe Treasure was hid, but it was a long Way off: And it order'd whatUses it should be put to. 

_Tho. _ What were they?

_Ans. _ That three Persons were to undertake a Pilgrimage; one to theThreshold of St. _Peter_; another to salute St. _James_ at_Compostella;_ and the third should kiss _Jesus'_s Comb at _Tryers_; andafter that, a vast Number of Services and Masses should be performed inseveral great Monasteries; and as to the Overplus, he should dispose ofit as he pleas'd. Now _Faunus'_s Mind was fixed upon the Treasure; hehad, in a Manner, swallowed it in his Mind. 

_Tho. _ That's a common Disease; but more peculiarly thrown in thePriests Dish, upon all Occasions. 

_Ans. _ After nothing had been omitted that related to the Affair of theMoney, the Exorcist being put upon it by _Polus_, began to put Questionsto the Spirit, about several Arts, as Alchymy and Magick. To theseThings the Spirit gave Answers, putting off the Resolution of theseQuestions for the present, promising it would make larger Discoveries assoon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches ofits Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be thethird Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in goodEarnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in allCompanies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things toMonasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to thePlace, 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 beextremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had beenperformed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt outthe Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiminghis Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, andespecially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of aprudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quitecontrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd hisMind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, tomake him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres andDevils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was sopale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Spritethan a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and wouldhave 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 outthis Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in astrange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such asGold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Formof the Epistle was this:

Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his graciousDeliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _thatthou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God hasrespected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, hasdelivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels. Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next tothe Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give theepublick 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 toperform divine Service: This being done, there was one appointed toadvertise him of it, as if he had found it by Chance. And now he carriesthe Letter about him, and shews it as a very sacred Thing; and believesnothing more firmly, than that it was brought from Heaven by an Angel. 

_Tho. _ This is not delivering the Man from his Madness, but changing theSort of it. 

_Ans. _ Why truly, so it is, only he is now more pleasantly mad thanbefore. 

_Tho. _ I never was wont to give much Credit to Stories of Apparitions incommon; but for the Time to come, I shall give much less: For I believethat many Things that have been printed and published, as trueRelations, were only by Artifice and Imposture, Impositions uponcredulous Persons, and such as _Faunus. _

_Ans. _ And I also believe that a great many of them are of the sameKind. 

_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'engiggles again, every now and then signing himself with the Sign of theCross? I'll interrupt his Felicity. God bless you heartily, my very goodFriend _Lalus_; you seem to me to be very happy. 

_La. _ But I shall be much happier, if I make you a Partaker of my merryConceitedness. 

_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 goodCharacter in the World?

_La. _ It is as you say; but no Man is wise at all Times, or is withouthis blind Side. This Man, among his many good Qualifications, has someFoibles: 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 bythis Sort of People, yet he has lately suffer'd himself to be impos'dupon again. 

_Phi. _ In what Manner?

_La. _ A certain Priest went to him, saluted him with great Respect, andaccosted him in this Manner: Most learned _Balbinus_, perhaps you willwonder 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 wonderfullysparing of his Words. 

_Phi. _ That's an Argument of Prudence. 

_La. _ But the other, as the wiser of the two, proceeds. You will forgivethis 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, thatthe Fates of Mortals are various; and I can't tell among which I shouldclass myself, whether among the happy or the miserable; for when Icontemplate my Fate on one Part, I account myself most happy, but if onthe other Part, I am one of the most miserable. _Balbinus_ pressing himto contract his Speech into a narrow Compass; I will have doneimmediately, most learned _Balbinus_, says he, and it will be the moreeasy 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, Ihave had from a Child, to have learn'd that most desirable Art, I meanAlchymy, the very Marrow of universal Philosophy. At the very Mention ofthe 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 heproceeds: But miserable Man that I am, said he, by not falling into theright Way! _Balbinus_ asking him what Ways those were he spoke of; GoodSir, says he, you know (for what is there, most learned Sir, that youare 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_. Butby my bad Fate, I have fallen upon _Longation. Balbinus_ asking him, what was the Difference of the Ways; it would be impudent in me, sayshe, to mention this to a Man, to whom all Things are so well known, thatNobody knows them better; therefore I humbly address myself to you, thatyou would take Pity on me, and vouchsafe to communicate to me that mosthappy Way of _Curtation_. And by how much the better you understand thisArt, by so much the less Labour you will be able to impart it to me: Donot conceal so great a Gift from your poor Brother that is ready to diewith Grief. And as you assist me in this, so may _Jesus Christ_ everenrich you with more sublime Endowments. He thus making no End of hisSolemnity of Obtestations, _Balbinus_ was oblig'd to confess, that hewas 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 thanmyself, yet since you command me I will do it: Those that have spenttheir whole Life in this divine Art, change the Species of Things twoWays, the one is shorter, but more hazardous, the other is longer, butsafer. I account myself very unhappy, that I have laboured in that Waythat does not suit my Genius, nor could I yet find out any Body whowould shew me the other Way that I am so passionately desirous of; butat last God has put it into my Mind to apply myself to you, a Man of asmuch Piety as Learning; your Learning qualifies you to answer my Requestwith 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 craftyFellow, with such Expressions as these, had clear'd himself from allSuspicion of a Design, and had gain'd Credit, that he understood one Wayperfectly 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, sayshe, of _Curtation_, the Name of which I never heard before, I am so farfrom understanding it. Tell me sincerely, Do you throughly understandLongation? Phoo! says he, perfectly well; but I don't love theTediousness of it. Then _Balbinus_ asked him, how much Time it wou'dtake up. Too much, says he; almost a whole Year; but in the mean Time itis the safest Way. Never trouble yourself about that, says _Balbinus_, although it should take up two Years, if you can but depend upon yourArt. To shorten the Story: They came to an Agreement, that the Businessshould be set on foot privately in _Balbinus_'s, House, upon thisCondition, that he should find Art, and _Balbinus_ Money; and the Profitshould be divided between them, although the Imposter modestly offeredthat _Balbinus_ should have the whole Gain. They both took an Oath ofSecrecy, after the Manner of those that are initiated into mysteriousSecrets; 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'tyou very well know, that _what's well begun is half done?_ It is a greatMatter to have the Materials well prepar'd. At last he begins to set upthe Furnace; and here there was Occasion for more Gold, as a Bait tocatch more: For as a Fish is not caught without a Bait, so Alchymistsmust 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 Ouncemade fifteen, what would be the Product of two thousand; for that wasthe Sum that he determined to spend. When the Alchymist had spent thisMoney and two Months Time, pretending to be wonderfully busy about theBellows and the Coals, Balbinus enquired of him, whether the Businesswent forward? At first he made no Answer; but at last he urging theQuestion, he made him Answer, As all great Works do; the greatestDifficulty of which is, in entring upon them: He pretended he had made aMistake in buying the Coals, for he had bought Oaken ones, when theyshould 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 newCash, he gets new Coals, and then the Business is begun again with moreResolution than before; just as Soldiers do, when they have happened tomeet with a Disaster, they repair it by Bravery. When the Laboratory hadbeen kept hot for some Months, and the golden Fruit was expected, andthere was not a Grain of Gold in the Vessel (for the Chymist had spentall that too) another Pretence was found out, That the Glasses theyused, were not rightly tempered: For, as every Block will not make aMercury, so Gold will not be made in any Kind of Glass. And by how muchmore 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 losesome than all. 

_La. _ Very true. The Chymist swore he was never so cheated since he wasborn before; but now having found out his Mistake, he could proceed withall the Security in the World, and fetch up that Loss with greatInterest. The Glasses being changed, the Laboratory is furnished thethird Time: Then the Operator told him, the Operation would go on moresuccessfully, if he sent a Present of Crowns to the Virgin Mary, thatyou know is worshipped at _Paris_; for it was an holy Act: And in Orderto have it carried on successfully, it needed the Favour of the Saints. _Balbinus_ liked this Advice wonderfully well, being a very pious Manthat never let a Day pass, but he performed some Act of Devotion orother. The Operator undertakes the religious Pilgrimage; but spends thisdevoted Money in a Bawdy-House in the next Town: Then he goes back, andtells _Balbinus_ that he had great Hope that all would succeed accordingto 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 likethis had ever happened all his Days to him, tho' he had so many Timeshad Experience of his Method; nor could he so much as imagine whatshould be the Reason of this Failing. After they had beat their Brains along Time about the Matter, _Balbinus_ bethought himself, whether he hadany Day miss'd going to Chapel, or saying the _Horary Prayers_, fornothing would succeed, if these were omitted. Says the Imposter you havehit it. Wretch that I am, I have been guilty of that once or twice byForgetfulness, and lately rising from Table, after a long Dinner, I hadforgot to say the Salutation of the Virgin. Why then, says _Balbinus_, it is no Wonder, that a Thing of this Moment succeeds no better. TheTrickster undertakes to perform twelve Services for two that he hadomitted, and to repay ten Salutations for that one. When Money every nowand then fail'd this extravagant Operator, and he could not find out anyPretence 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 mournfulTone cries out, O _Balbinus_ I am utterly undone, undone; I am in Dangerof my Life. _Balbinus_ was astonished, and was impatient to know whatwas the Matter. The Court, says he, have gotten an Inkling of what wehave been about, and I expect nothing else but to be carried to Gaolimmediately. _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 amafraid of Death myself, I wish that were the worst that would happen, Ifear something more cruel. _Balbinus_ asking him what that was, hereply'd, I shall be carried away into some Castle, and there be forc'dto work all my Days, for those I have no Mind to serve. Is there anyDeath so bad as such a Life? The Matter was then debated, _Balbinus_being a Man that very well understood the Art of Rhetorick, casts hisThoughts every Way, if this Mischief could be prevented any Way. Can'tyou deny the Crime, says he? By no Means, says the other; the Matter isknown among the Courtiers, and they have such Proof of it that it can'tbe evaded, and there is no defending of the Fact; for the Law ispoint-blank against it. Many Things having been propos'd, but coming tono conclusion, that seem'd feasible; says the Alchymist, who wantedpresent Money, O _Balbinus_ we apply ourselves to slow Counsels, whenthe Matter requires a present Remedy. It will not be long before theywill 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 amas much at a Loss as you, nor do I see any Way left, but to die like aMan, unless you shall approve what I am going to propose, which is moreprofitable than honourable; but Necessity is a hard Chapter. You knowthese Sort of Men are hungry after Money, and so may be the more easilybrib'd to Secrecy. Although it is a hard Case to give these RascalsMoney to throw away; but yet, as the Case now stands, I see no betterWay. _Balbinus_ was of the same Opinion, and he lays down thirty Guineasto 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 Teethout 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 aNeedle in any Thing else. Now the Furnace is set to work again with newMoney; but first, a short Prayer is made to the Virgin Mary to prospertheir Undertakings. By this Time there had been a whole Year spent, first one Obstacle being pretended, and then another, so that all theExpence and Labour was lost. In the mean Time there fell out one mostridiculous Chance. 

_Phi. _ What was that?

_La. _ The Alchymist had a criminal Correspondence with a certainCourtier's Lady: The Husband beginning to be jealous, watch'd himnarrowly, and in the Conclusion, having Intelligence that the Priest wasin the Bed-Chamber, he comes Home before he was look'd for, knocks atthe Door. 

_Phi. _ What did he design to do to him?

_La. _ What! Why nothing very good, either kill him or geld him. When theHusband being very pressing to come, threatned he would break open theDoor, if his Wife did not open it, they were in bodily Fear within, andcast about for some present Resolution; and Circumstances admitting nobetter, he pull'd off his Coat, and threw himself out of a narrowWindow, but not without both Danger and Mischief, and so got away. SuchStories as these you know are soon spread, and it came to _Balbinus_'sEar, 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. Hearthe 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 theTalk of the Town. The Chymist knew _Balbinus_ to be a Man of Piety, andin some Points, I was going to say, superstitious, and such Persons arevery ready to forgive one that falls under his Crime, let it be never sogreat; therefore, he on Purpose begins a Talk about the Success of theirBusiness, complaining, that it had not succeeded as it us'd to do, andas he would have it; and he-wondered greatly, what should be the Reasonof it: Upon this Discourse, _Balbinus_, who seemed otherwise to havebeen bent upon Silence, taking an Occasion, was a little moved: It isno hard Matter, says he, to guess what the Obstacle is. Sins are theObstacles that hinder our Success, for pure Works should be done by purePersons. At this Word, the Projector fell down on his Knees, and beatinghis 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 thathas been the Hinderance; but my Sins, not yours; for I am not asham'd toconfess my Uncleanness before you, as I would before my most holy FatherConfessor: The Frailty of my Flesh overcame me, and Satan drew me intohis Snares; and O miserable Wretch that I am! Of a Priest, I am becomean 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 hadnot helped me; for the Husband broke open the Door upon me, and theWindow 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, andbesought her, that if the Gift was acceptable to her, she would assistme, and in a Minute I went to the Window, (for Necessity forced me so todo) 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 veryreligiously, not to be ungrateful to the blessed Virgin: Nay, there wasmore Money laid down, upon his giving his Promise, that he would for thefuture 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'dupon _Balbinus_ long enough with these Inventions, and wheedled him outof a considerable Sum of Money, a certain Gentleman happen'd to comethere, that had known the Knave from a Child: He easily imagining thathe was acting the same Part with _Balbinus_, that he had been actingevery where, admonishes _Balbinus_ privately, and acquainted him whatSort of a Fellow he harbour'd, advising him to get rid of him as soonas possible, unless he had a Mind to have him sometime or other, torifle his Coffers, and then run away. 

_Phi. _ Well, what did _Balbinus_ do then? Sure, he took Care to have himsent to Gaol?

_La. _ To Gaol? Nay, he gave him Money to bear his Charges, and conjur'dhim by all that was sacred, not to speak a Word of what had happenedbetween them. And in my Opinion, it was his Wisdom so to do, rather thanto be the common Laughing-stock, and Table-Talk, and run the Risk of theConfiscation of his Goods besides; for the Imposter was in no Danger; heknew no more of the Matter than an Ass, and cheating is a small Fault inthese Sort of Cattle. If he had charg'd him with Theft, his Ordinationwould have say'd him from the Gallows, and no Body would have been atthe Charge of maintaining such a Fellow in Prison. 

_Phi. _ I should pity _Balbinus_; but that he took Pleasure in beinggull'd. 

_La. _ I must now make haste to the Hall; at another Time I'll tell youStories more ridiculous than this. 

_Phi. _ When you shall be at Leisure, I shall be glad to hear them, andI'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, gapingever and anon into the Air. I'll attack him. _Phaedrus_, what News toDay?

_Ph. _ Why do you ask me that Question, _Aulus_?

_Aul. _ Because, of a _Phaedrus_, you seem to have become a _Cato_, thereis 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_, whosell and let out Horses. 

_Aul. _ Yes, I know more of them than I wish I did, having been cheatedby them more than once. 

_Ph. _ I had Occasion lately to go a pretty long Journey, and I was ingreat Haste; I went to one that you would have said was none of theworst 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 strongable 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 ifI 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 outof them all. At last I pitch'd upon one that I lik'd better than therest. He commends my Judgment, protesting that a great many Persons hadhad a Mind to that Horse; but he resolved to keep him rather for asingular Friend, than sell him to a Stranger. I agreed with him as tothe Price, paid him down his Money, got upon the Horse's Back. Upon thefirst setting out, my Steed falls a prancing; you would have said he wasa Horse of Mettle; he was plump, and in good Case: But, by that Time Ihad rid him an Hour and a half, I perceiv'd he was downright tir'd, norcould I by spurring him, get him any further. I had heard that suchJades had been kept for Cheats, that you would take by their Looks to bevery good Horses; but were worth nothing for Service. I says to myselfpresently, I am caught. But when I come Home again, I will shew himTrick for Trick. 

_Aul. _ But what did you do in this Case, being a Horseman without aHorse?

_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 hiredanother, and prosecuted my Journey; and when I came back, I return'd myhired Horse, and finding my own in very good Case, and thoroughlyrested, I mounted his Back, and rid back to the Horse-Courser, desiringhim to set him up for a few Days, till I called for him again. He ask'dme how well he carry'd me; I swore by all that was good, that I neverbestrid a better Nag in my Life, that he flew rather than walk'd, norever tir'd the least in the World in all so long a Journey, nor was aHair the leaner for it. I having made him believe that these Things weretrue, he thought with himself, he had been mistaken in this Horse; andtherefore, before I went away, he ask'd me if I would sell the Horse. Irefus'd at first; because if I should have Occasion to go such anotherJourney, I should not easily get the Fellow of him; but however, Ivalued nothing so much, but I would sell it, if I could have a goodPrice 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 Priceupon 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 tobehave 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 theworst 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 Friendpresently ask'd whether that was not to be sold; for I had given him aDescription of the Horse, and the Place where he stood. TheHorse-Courser at first made no Answer, but commended the rest veryhighly. The Gentleman lik'd the other Horses pretty well; but alwaystreated about that very Horse: At last thinks the Horse-Courser withhimself, I have certainly been out in my Judgment as to this Horse, ifthis Stranger could presently pick this Horse out of so many. Heinsisting upon it, He may be sold, says he; but it may be, you'll befrighted at the Price. The Price, says he, is a Case of no greatImportance, if the Goodness of the Thing be answerable: Tell me thePrice. He told him something more than I had set him at to him, gettingthe Overplus to himself. At last the Price was agreed on, and a goodlarge Earnest was given, a Ducat of Gold to bind the Bargain. ThePurchaser gives the Hostler a Groat, orders him to give his Horse someCorn, and he would come by and by, and fetch him. As soon as ever Iheard 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 outof 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 anextraordinary Affair: But, says he, you bid me keep the Horse a fewDays: 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 yourown. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretendedto be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey hashappen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times hisPrice. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grewa little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: Youset a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you yourMoney, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, andyou can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a goodWhile, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that boughthim: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought himfor fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valuedhim at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make thatProfit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd inmy Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desiresme not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So Ibit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that hethat had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; butno Body came, nor ever will come. 

_Aul. _ But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter withyou?

_Ph. _ With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him overand over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But Ioften reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be soserv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. Thiswas a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in myHeart to confess it as a Fault. 

_Aul. _ If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far fromconfessing 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 meagog 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 saveyou, _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 youwas? 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 abetter Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd toour Order. 

_Mis. _ Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am notasham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first ofmyself. 

_Ir. _ What Order do you mean? That of the _Franciscans_?

_Mis. _ No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of theSpendthrifts. 

_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 inWant, no Body knew _Apitius_. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself toyour College: I lik'd that better than digging. 

_Ir. _ Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case oflate? 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 byRapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, whichseems 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 morefriendly 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 withPaints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd inBlood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again. 

_Ir. _ O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. Youmight have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy. 

_Mis. _ My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt tochange 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 littlebetter 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 learnin 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, asgood Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion ofmine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I haddone. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, totell 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 itme 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. Youknow, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of thisArt. 

_Ir. _ I have heard so, and I believe it is true. 

_Mis. _ I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into theirAcquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungrySea-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 thatProfession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their _hocuspocus_ 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 memyself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and feltit 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 underthe Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may havethe less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their ownHands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Fingerto it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it tothe Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Goldit will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Massto several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find theexact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold orSilver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment inSilver 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 myReward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thingitself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business waseffected 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 anOath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Bodyliving. 

_Ir. _ But I han't heard the Cheat yet. 

_Mis. _ The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for thisPurpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to theQuantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powderis 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 Artconsists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in onethat has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of theFire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin orBrass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out. 

_Ir. _ A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another doesit all with his own Hands?

_Mis. _ When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, beforethe Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing hasbeen omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two atthe Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privatelylay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which Ican 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 orother, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or theFire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mysteryof 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 youare 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 haveescap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable?

_Ir. _ This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it growspleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen offfrom the Order of St. _Francis_ or St. _Benedict_, did you ever knowany that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce tastethe 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 mostwretched 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 aCoal?

_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 moreof it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are manyKings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, weare 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 Wayof Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue aBeggar? 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 greaterthey are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid tooffend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated toGod. 

_Mis. _ But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels?

_Ir. _ What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak ofare 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 ashort Time. 

_Ir. _ How so?

_Mis. _ Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be aLaw, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at theirPleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they thatare able shall be made to work. 

_Ir. _ What Reason have they for this?

_Mis. _ Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence ofBegging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publickfrom your Order. 

_Ir. _ Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bringit 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 andwithout a Governor; so neither ought a Feast to be without Orders and aPresident. 

_Ge. _ If I may speak for the rest, I like it very well. 

_Po. _ Soho, Sirrah! bring hither the Dice, the Matter shall bedetermin'd by their Votes; he shall be our President that _Jupiter_shall favour. O brave! _Eutrapelus_ has it, the fittest Man that couldbe chosen, if we had every individual Man of us thrown. There is anusual Proverb, that has more Truth in't than good Latin, _Novus Rex novaLex, New Lords new Laws_. Therefore, King, make thou Laws. 

_Eut. _ That this may be a merry and happy Banquet, in the first Place Icommand, that no Man tell a Story but what is a ridiculous one. He thatshall have no Story to tell, shall pay a Groat, to be spent in Wine; andStories invented extempore shall be allow'd as legitimate, providedRegard 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 thedullest, pay for Wine. Let the Master of the Feast be at no Charge forWine, but only for the Provisions of the Feast. If any Difference aboutthis Matter shall happen, let _Gelasinus_ be Judge. If you agree tothese 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 nextDay. 

_Ge. _ We give our Votes for the Passing the Bill our King has broughtin. 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 muchCommendation who tells the worst, as he that tells the best Story, because it affords as much Merriment; as amongst Songsters none areadmir'd but they that sing very well, or they that sing very ill. Do notmore laugh to hear the Cuckoo than to hear the Nightingal? In this CaseMediocrity 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 theyshould 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 setbefore every Man; If, says he, you have a great Deal of Wine, let everyMan have as much as he calls for, but if you're scarce of Wine, giveevery Man equally alike. 

_Phily. _ What did the _Lacedæmonian_ mean by that?

_Eut. _ He did this, that it might neither be a drunken Feast, nor aquerulous one. 

_Phily. _ Why so?

_Eut. _ Because some like to drink plentifully, and some sparingly, andsome 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 noBody is compell'd to drink, and there is no Want to them that love todrink more plentifully. And so it comes to pass that no Body ismelancholy at the Table. And again, if of a less quantity of Wine everyone has an equal Portion, they that drink moderately have enough; norcan any Body complain in an Equality, and they that would have drankmore largely, are contentedly temperate. 

_Eut. _ If you like it, this is the Example I would imitate, for I wouldhave 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 thatDogs do, unless there is this Difference, that a King does not drink thevery same Water that a Dog drank, but a Dog draws in the very same Airthat the King breath'd out; and on the contrary, the King draws in thevery 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 isnothing worse for a King, who has the Care of so many thousand Persons, than Drunkenness. But the Apothegm that _Romulus_ very wittily made Useof, shews plainly that he was no Wine-Drinker. For when a certainPerson, taking Notice of his abstaining from Wine, said to him, thatWine would be very cheap, if all Men drank as he did; nay, says he, inmy Opinion it would be very dear, if all Men drank it as I drink; for Idrink 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 heis 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 atone and the same Time, which is a very easy Matter, I'll begin theExercise of telling Stories, and auspiciously. If the Story be not apleasant one, remember 'tis a _Dutch_ one. I suppose some of you haveheard 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 Strangerthere, had a Mind to make himself taken Notice of for an arch Trick (forthat 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, theShoemaker ask'd him if he'd buy any Boots; _Maccus_ assenting to it, helooks 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 aPair of double soal'd Shoes agree with these Boots? The Shoemaker askshim, if he would have a Pair of Shoes too. He assents, a Pair is look'dout presently and put on. _Maccus_ commends the Boots, commends theShoes. The Shoemaker glad in his Mind to hear him talk so, seconds himas he commended 'em, hoping to get a better Price, since the Customerlik'd his Goods so well. And by this Time they were grown a littlefamiliar; then says _Maccus_, Tell me upon your Word, whether it neverwas your Hap, when you had fitted a Man with Boots and Shoes, as youhave me, to have him go away without paying for 'em? No, never in all myLife, 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 afterhim. 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 trywhether you will or no. See I run for the Shoes, and you're to followme, and out he runs in a Minute; the Shoemaker follows him immediatelyas fast as ever he could run, crying out, Stop Thief, stop Thief; thisNoise brings the People out of their Houses: _Maccus_ laughing, hindersthem from laying Hold of him by this Device, Don't stop me, says he, weare running a Race for a Wager of a Pot of Ale; and so they all stoodstill and look'd on, thinking the Shoemaker had craftily made thatOut-cry that he might have the Opportunity to get before him. At lastthe 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 theThief. 

_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 'emafterwards. 

_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 prosecutedhim upon the Statute of _Rheims_ which says, that he that charges a Manwith what he can't prove, shall suffer the Penalty, which the Defendantwas to suffer if he had been convicted. He deny'd that he had meddledwith another Man's Goods without his Leave, but that he put 'em uponhim, and that there was no Mention made of any Thing of a Price; butthat he challeng'd the Shoemaker to run for a Wager, and that heaccepted the Challenge, and that he had no Reason to complain because hehad 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 Judgesinvites _Maccus_ to Supper, and paid the Shoemaker his Money. Just suchanother Thing happen'd at _Daventerv_, when I was a Boy. It was at aTime when 'tis the Fishmonger's Fair, and the Butchers Time to bestarv'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 hestar'd very hard upon the Ware she had to sell. She, according as theCustom is, invites him to have what he had a Mind to; and perceiving heset 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 manyPound, Would you have five Pound says she? He nods again; she turns himfive Pound into his Apron. While she is laying by her Scales, he walksoff, not in any great haste, but very gravely. When she comes out totake her Money, her Chap was gone; she follows him, making more Noisethan Haste after him. He, taking no Notice, goes on; at last a greatmany getting together at the Woman's Out-cry, he stands still, pleadshis Cause in the midst of the Multitude: there was very good Sport, hedenies 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 notmuch 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; boththese Sorts were a careful Sort of People, and therefore unhappy: otherscame to see what was there to be sold, and what was done; these onlywere the happy People, because being free from Care, they took theirPleasure freely. And this he said was the Manner that a Philosopherconvers'd in this World, as they do in a Market. But there is a fourthKind of Persons that walk about in our Markets, who neither buy norsell, nor are idle Spectators of what others do, but lie upon the Catchto steal what they can. And of this last Sort there are some that arewonderful 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 witha 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 itwas 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'dout; he salutes him very civilly, and tells him that he had Orders tobuy a Surplice, which is the chief Vestment us'd in performing DivineService, for the Priest of his Parish; he intreats him to lend him alittle Assistance in this Matter, and to go with him to those that sellsuch Attire, that he might fit one according to his Size, because he wasmuch about the same Stature with the Parson of his Parish. This beingbut 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 Priestputs 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 Surplicevery well, but only found Fault that it was too short before. TheSeller, lest he should lose his Customer, says, that was not the Faultof the Surplice, but that the Bag of Money that stuck out, made it lookshorter there. To be short, the old Priest lays his Bag down; then theyview it over again, and while the old Priest stands with his Backtowards it, the Sharper catches it up, and runs away as fast as hecould: The Priest runs after him in the Surplice as he was, and theShop-Keeper after the Priest; the old Priest cries out, Stop Thief; theSalesman cries out, Stop the Priest; the Sharper cries out, Stop the madPriest; and they took him to be mad, when they saw him run in the openStreet in such a Dress: so one hindring the other, the Sharper getsclear 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 encouragesuch monstrous Rogues to the Damage of the State. 

_Ge. _ They don't encourage 'em for nothing; there's a fellow Feelingbetween '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 keephis Turn. 

_Eut. _ I won't need to be forc'd to keep my Turn, I'll keep itvoluntarily; I should be a Tyrant and not a King, if I refus'd to complywith 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 thatgreat Prince who was call'd _Cæsar_; and then, if by being above theLaw, you mean, that whereas others do in some Measure keep the Laws byConstraint, he of his own Inclination more exactly observes them. For agood Prince is that to the Body Politick, which the Mind is to the BodyNatural. What Need was there to have said a good Prince, when a badPrince 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 thinkthat 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 atHome, took a Journey to _Burgundy_; and there upon the Occasion of aHunting, contracted a Familiarity with one _Conon_, a Country Farmer, but a plain downright honest Man; and Kings delight in the Conversationof such Men. The King, when he went a hunting, us'd often to go to hisHouse; and as great Princes do sometimes delight themselves with meanMatters, he us'd to be mightily pleas'd in eating of his Turnips. Notlong after, _Lewis_ having settled his Affairs, obtain'd the Governmentof the _French_ Nation; _Conon_'s Wife puts him upon remembring the Kingof his old Entertainment at their House, bids him go to him, and makehim a Present of some rare Turnips. _Conon_ at first would not hear ofit, saying he should lose his Labour, for that Princes took no Notice ofsuch small Matters; but his Wife over-persuaded him. _Conon_ picks out aParcel of choice Turnips, and gets ready for his Journey; but growinghungry 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', theKing knew him presently, and sent for him; and he with a great Deal ofChearfulness offers his Present, and the King with as much Readiness ofMind receives it, commanding one that stood near him to lay it up verycarefully among his greatest Rarities. He commands _Conon_ to dine withhim, and after Dinner thanks him; and _Conon_ being desirous to go backinto 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 Kingwith 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 Advantageby it, he accepted it with a great Deal of Pleasure, and calling aCouncil of his Nobles, began to debate, with what Present he should makea Recompence for so fine and valuable a Horse. In the mean Time theGiver of the Horse began to be flushed with Expectation, thinking thuswith himself; If he made such a Recompence for a poor Turnip offer'd himby a Country Farmer, how much more magnificently will he requite thePresent 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 aMatter of great Moment, and the designing Courtier had been for a longTime kept in Fools Paradise; At Length, says the King, it's just nowcome into my Mind what Return to make him, and calling one of hisNoblemen to him, whispers him in the Ear, bids him go fetch him what hefound in his Bedchamber (telling him the Place where it lay) choicelywrap'd up in Silk; the Turnip is brought, and the King with his own Handgives it the Courtier, wrap'd up as it was, saying that he thought hehad richly requited the Present of the Horse by so choice a Rarity, ashad cost him 1000 Crowns. The Courtier going away, and taking off theCovering, did not find a _Coal instead of a Treasure_, according to theold Proverb, but a dry Turnip: and so the Biter was bitten, and soundlylaugh'd at by every Body into the Bargain. 

_As. _ But, Mr. King, if you'll please to permit me, who am but aPeasant, to speak of regal Matters, I'll tell you something that comesinto my Mind, by hearing your Story, concerning the same _Lewis_. For asone Link of a Chain draws on another, so one Story draws on another. Acertain Servant seeing a Louse crawling upon the King's Coat, fallingupon his Knees and lifting up his Hand, gives Notice, that he had a Mindto do some Sort of Service; _Lewis_ offering himself to him, he takesoff the Louse, and threw it away privately; the King asks him what itwas; he seem'd ashamed to tell him, but the King urging him, heconfess'd it was a Louse: That's a very good Sign, says he, for it shewsme 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 Crownsfor his good Service. Some Time after, another Person (who had seen howwell he came off that had perform'd so small a Service) not consideringthat there is a great Difference between doing a Thing sincerely, anddoing it craftily, approached the King with the like Gesture; and heoffering himself to him, he made a Shew of taking something off hisGarment, which he presently threw away. But when the King was urgentupon him, seeming unwilling to tell what it was, mimicking Abundance ofModesty, he at last told him it was a Flea; the King perceiving theFraud, says to him, What do you make a Dog of me? and orders him to betaken away, and instead of 40 Crowns orders him 40 Stripes. 

_Phily. _ I hear it's no good jesting with Kings; for as Lions willsometimes 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 tellyou a Story not much unlike yours: not to go off from _Lewis_, who us'dto take a Pleasure in tricking Tricksters. He had receiv'd a Present often thousand Crowns from some Place, and as often as the Courtiers knowthe King has gotten any fresh Money, all the Officers are presently uponthe Hunt to catch some Part of it; this _Lewis_ knew very well, thisMoney being pour'd out upon a Table, he, to raise all theirExpectations, thus bespeaks them; What say you, am not I a very richKing? Where shall I bestow all this Money? It was presented to me, and Ithink it is meet I should make Presents of it again. Where are all myFriends, to whom I am indebted for their good Services? Now let 'em comebefore this Money's gone. At that Word a great many came running; everyBody hop'd to get some of it. The King taking Notice of one that look'dvery 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'dthe King, that he had for a long Time very faithfully kept the King'sHawks, and been at a great Expence thereby. One told him one Thing, another another, every one setting out his Service to the bestAdvantage, and ever and anon lying into the Bargain. The King heard 'emall very patiently, and approv'd of what they said. This Consultationheld a long Time, that he might teaze them the more, by keeping thembetwixt Hope and Despair. Among the rest stood the Great Chancellor, forthe King had order'd him to be sent for too; he, being wiser than therest, says never a Word of his own good Services, but was only aSpectator of the Comedy. At Length the King turning toward him, says, Well, what says my Chancellor to the Matter? He is the only Man thatasks nothing, and says never a Word of his good Services. I, says theChancellor, have receiv'd more already from your royal Bounty, than Ihave deserved. I am so far from craving more, that I am not desirous ofany Thing so much, as to behave myself worthy of the royal Bounty I havereceiv'd. Then, says the King, you are the only Man of 'em all that doesnot want Money. Says the Chancellor, I must thank your Bounty that Idon't. Then he turns to the others, and says, I am the most magnificentPrince in the World, that have such a wealthy Chancellor. This moreinflam'd all their Expectations, that the Money would be distributedamong 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 allup, and carry it Home; then turning to the rest, who now look'd a littledull upon it, says he, You must stay till the next Opportunity. 

_Philog. _ Perhaps that I'm going to tell you, will not seem soentertaining. However, I entreat you that you would not be suspicious, that I use any Deceit or Collusion, or think that I have a Design todesire to be excus'd. One came to the same _Lewis_, with a Petition thathe would bestow upon him an Office that happen'd to be vacant in theTown where he liv'd. The King hearing the Petition read, answersimmediately, you shall not have it; by that Means putting him out of anyfuture Expectation; the Petitioner immediately returns the King Thanks, and goes his Way. The King observing the Man's Countenance, perceiv'd hewas no Blockhead, and thinking perhaps he might have misunderstood whathe said, bids him be call'd back again. He came back; then says theKing; Did you understand what I said to you? I did understand you, quothhe: Why, what did I say? That I should not have it, said he. What didyou 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'dAttendance after a doubtful Hope; now, I look upon it a Benefit that youhave denied me the Office quickly, and so I count myself to have gain'dwhatsoever I should have lost by Attendance upon it, and gone without itat 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'dfor, that you may thank me twice, and turning to his Officers; Let, sayshe, Letters patent be made out for this Man without Delay, that he maynot be detain'd here to his Detriment. 

_Eugl. _ I could tell you a Story of _Lewis_, but I had rather tell oneof our _Maximilian_, who as he was far from hiding his Money in theGround, so he was very generous to those that had spent their Estates, if they were nobly descended. He being minded to assist a youngGentleman, that had fallen under these Circumstances, sent him on anEmbassy to demand an hundred thousand Florins of a certain City, but Iknow not upon what Account. But this was the Condition of it, that if heby his Dexterity could make any more of it, it should be his own. TheEmbassador extorted fifty thousand from 'em, and gave _Caesar_ thirty of'em. _Caesar_ being glad to receive more than he expected, dismisses theMan without asking any Questions. In the mean Time the Treasurer andReceivers smelt the Matter, that he had receiv'd more than he had paidin; they importune _Caesar_ to send for him; he being sent for, comesimmediately: Says _Maximilian_, I hear you have receiv'd fifty thousand. He confess'd it. But you have paid in but thirty thousand. He confess'dthat too. Says he, You must give an Account of it. He promis'd he woulddo it, and went away. But again he doing nothing in it, the Officerspressing the Matter, he was call'd again; then says _Caesar_ to him, Alittle While ago, you were order'd to make up the Account. Says he, Iremember it, and am ready to do it. _Caesar_, imagining that he had notsettled it, let him go again; but he thus eluding the Matter, theOfficers insisted more pressingly upon it, crying out, it was a greatAffront to play upon _Caesar_ at this Rate. They persuaded the King tosend for him, and make him balance the Account before them. _Caesar_agrees to it, he is sent for, comes immediately, and does not refuse todo any Thing. Then says _Caesar_, Did not you promise to balance theAccount? Yes, said he. Well, says he, you must do it here; here are someto 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 thisPinch, replies very smartly; Most invincible _Caesar_, I don't refuse togive 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 suchAccounts. If I do but once see how they make up such Accounts, I canvery easily imitate them. I entreat you to command them but to shew mean Example, and they shall see I am very docible. _Caesar_ perceivedwhat 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 isreasonable: And so dismissed the young Man. For he intimated that theyused to bring in such Accounts to _Caesar_ as he had, that is, to keep agood 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 agreat 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 ofhis Jokes with a Sort of Perfume that has not a handsome Sound, but aworse Scent. I'll pick out one of the cleanest of 'em. He had given anInvitation to one or two merry Fellows that he had met with by Chance ashe went along; and when he comes Home, he finds a cold Kitchen; nor hadhe any Money in his Pocket, which was no new Thing with him; here wasbut little Time for Consultation. Away he goes, and says nothing, butgoing into the Kitchen of a certain Usurer (that was an intimateAcquaintance, by Reason of frequent Dealings with him) when the Maid wasgone out of the Way, he makes off with one of the Brass Pots, with theMeat ready boiled, under his Coat, carries it Home, gives it hisCook-Maid, and bids her pour out the Meat and Broth into another EarthenPot, and rub the Usurer's Brass one till it was bright. Having donethis, 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 sucha Pot had been sent him. The Pawn-Broker not knowing the Pot beingscour'd so bright, takes the Pawn, gives him a Note, and lays him downthe Money, and with that Money the Boy buys Wine, and so he provided anEntertainment for him. By and by, when the Pawn-Broker's Dinner wasgoing 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 allthat Day but _Anthony_. It seem'd an ill Thing to suspect a Priest. Buthowever at last they went to him, search'd the House for the Pot, but noPot was found. But in short, they charg'd him Home with the Pot, becausehe was the only Person who had been in the Kitchen till the Pot wasmissing. He confess'd that he had borrow'd a Pot, but that he had sentit 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 beingindicted for Felony, if I had not had the Pawn-Broker's own Hand toshew. And with that he produces the Note of his Hand. They perceiv'd theTrick, and it made good Sport all the Country over, that thePawn-Broker had lent Money upon his own Porridge-Pot. Men are commonlyvery well pleas'd with such Tricks, when they are put upon such as theyhave no good Opinion of, especially such as use to impose upon otherPersons. 

_Adol. _ In Truth, by mentioning the Name of _Anthony_, you have laidopen an Ocean of merry Stories; but I'll tell but one, and a short onetoo, 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 makingmerry together; among the rest there was one _Anthony_, and anotherPerson, a noted Fellow for an arch Trick, a second _Anthony_. And as'tis the Custom of Philosophers, when they meet together to propoundsome Questions or other about the Things of Nature, so in this Company aQuestion was propos'd; Which was the most honourable Part of a Man? Onesaid the Eyes, another said the Heart, another said the Brain, andothers said other Parts; and every one alleg'd some Reason for hisAssertion. _Anthony_ was bid to speak his Mind, and he gave his Opinionthat the Mouth was the most honourable, and gave some Reason for't, Ican't tell what. Upon that the other Person, that he might thwart_Anthony_, made Answer that that was the most honourable Part that wesit upon; and when every one cry'd out, that was absurd, he back'd itwith this Reason, that he was commonly accounted the most honourablethat was first seated, and that this Honour was commonly done to thePart that he spoke of. They applauded his Opinion, and laughed heartilyat it. The Man was mightily pleas'd with his Wit, and _Anthony_ seem'dto 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 otherReason, but because he knew that the other Man would name some otherPart, if it were but out of Envy to thwart him: A few Days after, whenthey were both invited again to an Entertainment, _Anthony_ going in, finds his Antagonist, talking with some other Persons, while Supper wasgetting ready, and turning his Arse towards him, lets a great Fart fullin his Face. He being in a violent Passion, says to him, Out, you saucyFellow, 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 haveanswer'd me again; but now I salute you with the most honourable Part ofthe Body, in your own Opinion, you call me saucy Fellow. And so_Anthony_ regain'd the Reputation he had lost. We have every one toldour 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 hisGlass, 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 merryCompany?

_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 tocome 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 moreentertaining than your fabulous one, I'll be content to be amerc'd aSupper; there is nothing more diverting than to treat of Trifles in aserious 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 morethan 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 theMatter. 

_Fa. _ What! are you such a Stranger in this Country, as not to know thatthat'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? Butwithout jesting, I did know very well what was the Matter; but I couldnot dream, that you that are scarce sixteen, should learn so early thedifficult Art of getting Children, which some can scarce attain beforethey 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 Iwas 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 acourting as hotly as if he had lived all his Days a Batchelor. I ask'dhim what was the Matter; he told me that in this House the Body of aWoman had been dissever'd. For what great Crime, says I? says he, Ifwhat is commonly reported be true, the Mistress of this House attemptedto 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 maycongratulate my happy Delivery, when you shall see him that I havebrought 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 livefor 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 tocall you mine) ought to tell me what Reason you Women have to wish forBoys rather than Girls?

_Fa. _ I don't know what other People's Minds are; at this Time I am gladI have a Boy, because so it pleased God. If it had pleased him best Ishould 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 Womenin Labour?

_Fa. _ Pray, _Eutrapelus_, what should he do else, but preserve byPropagation, what he has founded by Creation?

Eu, What should he do else good Dame? If he were not God, he'd never beable to do what he has to do. _Christiernus_ King of _Denmark_, areligious Favourer of the Gospel, is in Exile. _Francis_, King of_France_, is a Sojourner in _Spain. _ I can't tell how well he may bearit, 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. _ Andthe Courtiers every where are almost Famished with Hunger after Money. The very Farmers raise dangerous Commotions, nor are deterred from theirAttempts by so many Slaughters of Men, that have been made already. ThePeople are for setting up an Anarchy, and the Church goes to Ruin withdangerous Factions. Christ's seamless Coat is rent asunder on all Sides. God's Vineyard is spoiled by more Boars than one. The Authority of theClergy with their Tythes, the Dignity of Divines, the Majesty of Monksis in Danger: Confession nods, Vows stagger, the Pope's Constitutions goto decay, the Eucharist is call'd in Question, and Antichrist isexpected every Day, and the whole World seems to be in Travail to bringforth I know not what Mischief. In the mean Time the _Turks_ over-runall 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 haselse to do? I think he should rather see to secure his own Kingdom inTime. 

_Fa. _ Perhaps that which Men make the greatest Account of, seems to Godof no Moment. But however, if you will, let us let God alone in thisDiscourse of ours. What is your Reason to think it is happier to bear aBoy than a Girl? It is the Part of a pious Person to think that bestwhich God, who without Controversy is the best Judge, has given. 

_Eu. _ And if God should give you but a Cup made of Crystal, would younot give him Thanks for it?

_Fa. _ Yes, I would. 

_Eu. _ But what if he should give you one of common Glass, would you givehim the like Thanks? But I'm afraid instead of comforting you, by thisDiscourse, I should make you uneasy. 

_Fa. _ Nay, a _Fabulla_ can be in no Danger of being hurt by a Fable. Ihave lain in now almost a Month, and I am strong enough for a Match atWrestling. 

_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 ofEquity? 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 andstrong than a Female. 

_Eu. _ I believe they are. 

_Fa. _ That is Mens Opinion. But are Men any Thing longer-liv'd thanWomen? 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 intheir 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 becausehe commands, he subjects her as a Wife, and not purely as a Woman; andbesides that he so puts the Wife under Subjection, that tho' they haveeach of them Power over the other, he will have the Woman to be obedientto 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 toanother, or he that is yielded to?

_Eu. _ I'll grant you that, if you will explain to me, what Paul meantwhen he wrote to the _Corinthians_, that _Christ was the Head of theMan, and Man the Head of the Woman;_ and again, when he said, that _aMan 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, itshould not be common to all the Members? And besides that, since Godmade Man in his own Image, whether did he express this Image in theShape 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 wehave? 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 likeCowards; and it is not always for the Sake of your Country, that youleave 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 Bodiesto a slavish Necessity of being killed, or yourselves killing others. And now after all your Boasting of your warlike Prowess, there is noneof you all, but if you had once experienced what it is to bring a Childinto the World, would rather be placed ten Times in the Front of aBattle, than undergo once what we must so often. An Army does not alwaysfight, and when it does, the whole Army is not always engaged. Such asyou are set in the main Body, others are kept for Bodies of Reserve, andsome are safely posted in the Rear; and lastly, many save themselves bysurrendring, and some by running away. We are obliged to encounterDeath, 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 Husbandnever 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, ifyou 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 isup. 

_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 thesame Mind then; and so you would have double Wages to pay, and I doubleWork to do, of persuading and dissuading him. 

_Fa. _ Well, let it be as you will then. But come on, shew me why the Manis better than the Woman. 

_Eu. _ I perceive you have a Mind to engage with me in Discourse, but Ithink it more adviseable to yield to you at this Time. At another TimeI'll attack you when I have furnished myself with Arguments; but notwithout a Second neither. For where the Tongue is the Weapon thatdecides 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 withoutit 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 tofavour myself, being young. 

_Eu. _ But if Nature gives Strength to conceive, it doubtless givesStrength 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, thatanother 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 theMother of what you have brought into the World?

_Fa. _ O fy! _Eutrapelus_, I don't divide my Son in two, I am intirelyhis Mother, and no Body in the World else. 

_Eu. _ Nay, _Fabulla_, in this Case Nature herself blames you to yourFace. Why is the Earth call'd the Mother of all Things? Is it becauseshe produces only? Nay, much rather, because she nourishes those Thingsshe produces: that which is produced by Water, is fed by Water. There isnot 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 anyliving Creature that does not feed its own Offspring. Owls, Lions, andVipers, feed their own Young, and does Womankind make her OffspringOffcasts? Pray, what can be more cruel than they are, that turn theirOffspring 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 outof Doors, to commit a tender little Infant, yet reaking of the Mother, breathing the very Air of the Mother, imploring the Mother's Aid andHelp 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 hasmore 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 theCase, she is as healthful as yourself, and more too; do you think thereis no Difference between your little tender Infant's sucking its naturaland familiar Milk, and being cherish'd with Warmth it has beenaccustomed to, and its being forc'd to accustom itself to those of aStranger? Wheat being sown in a strange Soil, degenerates into Oats orsmall Wheat. A Vine being transplanted into another Hill, changes itsNature. A Plant when it is pluck'd from its Parent Earth, withers, andas it were dies away, and does in a Manner the same when it istransplanted 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 awayyour young Son from you out of Doors, to be accomplish'd with Learningand undergo harsh Discipline, and which indeed is rather the Province ofthe Father than of the Mother. But now its tender Age calls forIndulgence. And besides, whereas the Food, according as it is, contributes much to the Health and Strength of the Body, so moreespecially 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 inthe Bone, will never out of the Flesh. _

_Fa. _ I don't so much concern myself as to his Body, so his Mind be butas 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, andorder it to be whetted? Why do you reject a blunt pointed Needle, whenthat does not deprive you of your Art?

_Fa. _ Art is not wanting, but an unfit Instrument hinders the exertingit. 

_Eu. _ Why do they that have much Occasion to use their Eyes, avoidDarnel 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 aCarpenter 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 actat all, or if it does, it is with Inconvenience?

_Fa. _ Very likely. 

_Eu. _ Well, I find I have an intelligent Person to deal with; supposethe Soul of a Man was to pass into the Body of a Cock, would it make thesame 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 aMan. It has neither the Epiglottis, nor the three Cartilages, that aremoved by three Muscles, to which Nerves are joined that come from theBrain; 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 samePerson, when having heard a Story, and that he might not forget it, would have written it, reprehended himself for his foolish Thought, whenhe beheld his solid Hoofs. 

_Fa. _ And he had Cause enough. 

_Eu. _ Then it follows that the Soul does not see well thro' purblindEyes. The Ears hear not clearly when stopped with Filth. The Brainsmells not so well when oppressed with Phlegm. And a Member feels not somuch when it is benumbed. The Tongue tastes less, when vitiated with illHumours. 

_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 byFood and Drink. 

_Fa. _ I'll grant that too, but what signifies that to the Goodness ofthe 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 oneunderstands quicker than another, and has a better Memory; why is onemore 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 veryready Wit, and a retentive Memory, becomes afterwards stupid andforgetful, 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 theEyes 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 Palateare; and that the Body is all over sensible of the Touch, unless whensome 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, orhinder-Part of his Head, falls down like one that is dead, and isunsensible. 

_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 socrass as the Eyes and Ears, and yet are material, in as much as the mostsubtile 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 ifyou 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 ofMoment what Spirits, and what Vapours ascend from the Stomach to theBrain, and the Organs of the Mind. For if these are crude or cold theystay in the Stomach. 

_Fa. _ Pshaw! You're describing to me an Alembick, in which we distilSimple-Waters. 

_Eu. _ You don't guess much amiss. For the Liver, to which the Galladheres, is the Fire-Place; the Stomach, the Pan; the Scull, the Top ofthe Still; and if you please, you may call the Nose the Pipe of it. Andfrom this Flux or Reflux of Humours, almost all Manner of Diseasesproceed, according as a different Humour falls down after a differentManner, sometimes into the Eyes, sometimes into the Stomach, sometimesinto the Shoulders, and sometimes into the Neck, and elsewhere. And thatyou may understand me the better, why have those that guzzle a greatDeal of Wine bad Memories? Why are those that feed upon light Food, notof so heavy a Disposition? Why does Coriander help the Memory? Why doesHellebore purge the Memory? Why does a great Expletion cause anEpilepsy, which at once brings a Stupor upon all the Senses, as in aprofound Sleep? In the last Place, as violent Thirst or Want weaken theStrength of Wit or Memory in Boys, so Food eaten immoderately makes Boysdull-headed, if we believe _Aristotle_; in that the Fire of the Mind isextinguish'd by the heaping on too much Matter. 

_Fa. _ Why then, is the Mind corporeal, so as to be affected withcorporeal 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 notInstruments. 

_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 perfectBodies, as God and the Angels. 

_Fa. _ I have heard that God and Angels are Spirits, but we feel theSpirit. 

_Eu. _ The Holy Scriptures condescend to those low Expressions, becauseof the Dullness of Men, to signify a Mind pure from all Commerce ofsensible 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 theComparison better, a Tortoise. 

_Fa. _ Then the Body is rather the Habitation of the Mind than theInstrument of it. 

_Eu. _ There is no Absurdity in calling an adjunct Instrument anHabitation. Philosophers are divided in their Opinions about this. Somecall the Body the Garment of the Soul, some the House, some theInstrument, and some the Harmony; call it by which of these you will, itwill follow that the Actions of the Mind are impeded by the Affectionsof the Body. In the first Place, if the Body is to the Mind that which aGarment is to the Body, the Garment of _Hercules_ informs us how much aGarment contributes to the Health of the Body, not to take any Notice ofColours of Hairs or of Skins. But as to that Question, whether one andthe 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 ofBodies, 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 Bodyin Summer Time. 

_Eu. _ But I am of the Opinion, that if we wore out our Body at last aswe do our Cloaths; it would not be convenient; for so having worn outmany 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 theHealth and Agility of the Body, so it is of great Moment what Body theSoul wears. 

_Fa. _ If indeed the Body is the Garment of the Soul, I see a great manythat are dress'd after a very different Manner. 

_Eu. _ Right, and yet some Part of this Matter is in our own Power, howconveniently our Souls shall be cloathed. 

_Fa. _ Come, have done with the Garment, and say something concerning theHabitation. 

_Eu. _ But, _Fabulla_, that what I say to you mayn't be thought aFiction, the _Lord Jesus_ calls his Body a _Temple_, and the Apostle_Peter_ calls his a _Tabernacle_. And there have been some that havecall'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 ofthe Mind, and some the Fortress or fortify'd Castle. The Minds ofPersons that are pure in every Part, dwell in the Temple. They whoseMinds are not taken up with the Love of corporeal Things, dwell in aTent, and are ready to come forth as soon as the Commander calls. TheSoul of those that are wholly blinded with Vice and Filthiness, so thatthey 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 dowhat they would do, their Soul dwells in a Prison, whence theyfrequently cry out to the Deliverer of all, _Bring my Soul out ofPrison, that I may praise thy Name, O Lord. _ They who fight strenuouslywith Satan, watching and guarding against his Snares, who goes about as_a roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour;_ their Soul is as it werein 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 greatmany whose Mind is very illy seated. 

_Eu. _ It is so, that is to say, in Houses where it rains in, that aredark, exposed to all Winds, that are smoaky, damp, decay'd, and ruinous, and such as are filthy and infected: and yet _Cato_ accounts it theprincipal Happiness of a Man, to dwell handsomly. 

_Fa. _ It were tolerable, if there was any passing out of one House intoanother. 

_Eu. _ There's no going out before the Landlord calls out. But tho' wecan't go out, yet we may by our Art and Care make the Habitation of ourMind commodious; as in a House the Windows are changed, the Floor takenup, the Walls are either plaistered or wainscotted, and the Situationmay be purified with Fire or Perfume. But this is a very hard Matter, inan old Body that is near its Ruin. But it is of great Advantage to theBody of a Child, to take the Care of it that ought to be taken presentlyafter 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. Howmany are there, think you, who are expos'd to grievous Diseases andVices, as Epilepsies, Leanness, Weakness, Deafness, broken Backs, crooked Limbs, a weak Brain, disturbed Minds, and for no other Reasonthan that their Nurses have not taken a due Care of them?

_Fa. _ I wonder you are not rather a _Franciscan_ than a Painter, whopreach 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 hearso 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 dothey 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 wasweary of this House of his Body, begg'd for these Wings, when he cry'dout, _Who will give me the Wings of a Dove, that I may fly away, and beat rest_. Nor has the Soul any other Wings, being incorporeal, nor anyForm that can be beheld by the Eyes of the Body. But those Things thatare perceiv'd by the Mind, are more certain. Do you believe the Being ofGod?

_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 howit 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 bein him with more Certainty than you see this Tankard; for one Sense maybe 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, justas 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 everyThing. 

_Eu. The Soul is the Act of an Organical, Physical Body, having Life_ inPotentia. 

_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 bareDefinition of the Soul. And he calls the Form _Act_, the Nature of whichis to _act_, when it is the Property of Matter to _suffer_. For allnatural Motion of the Body proceeds from the Soul. And the Motion of theBody 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 headds, _having Life_ in Potentia. Form does not act upon every Thing; butupon 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 hegive 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 amafraid that the College of Sages would prefer a Bill of Heresy againstme, if I should say any Thing against him; but else all that he has saidconcerning the Soul of a Man, is as applicable to the Soul of an Ass oran 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 thatof a Man?

_Eu. _ They that say the Soul is nothing else but the Harmony of theQualities of the Body, would confess that there was no great Difference;and that this Harmony being interrupted, the Souls of both of them doperish. The Soul of a Man and an Ox is not distinguished; but that of anOx has less Knowledge than the Soul of a Man. And there are some Men tobe 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 yourGuittar, your Musick will be the sweeter. 

_Fa. _ I own it. 

_Eu. _ Nor is it of small Moment of what Wood, and in what Shape yourGuittar 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 thecircumambient Air, and will sometimes break. 

_Fa. _ I have seen that more than once. 

_Eu. _ On this Account you may do uncommon Service to your littleInfant, that his Mind may have an Instrument well tempered, and notvitiated, nor relaxed by Sloth, nor squeaking with Wrath, nor hoarsewith intemperate drinking. For Education and Diet oftentimes impress uswith 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, andSensitive. The Soul gives Life, but every Thing that has Life is not anAnimal. 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 oneto another, there is no Sense to be perceived, but it is found in aSponge by those that pull it off. Hewers discover a Sense inTimber-Trees, if we may believe them: For they say, that if you strikethe Trunk of a Tree that you design to hew down, with the Palm of yourHand, as Wood-Mongers use to do, it will be harder to cut that Tree downbecause it has contracted itself with Fear. But that which has Life andFeeling is an Animal. But nothing hinders that which does not feel, frombeing a Vegetable, as Mushrooms, Beets, and Coleworts. 

_Fa. _ If they have a Sort of Life, a Sort of Sense, and Motion in theirgrowing, what hinders but that they may be honoured with the Title ofAnimals?

_Eu. _ Why the Antients did not think fit to call them so, and we mustnot deviate from their Ordinances, nor does it signify much as to whatwe are upon. 

_Fa. _ But I can't bear the Thoughts on't, that the Soul of a Beetle andof a Man should be the same. 

_Eu. _ Good Madam, it is not the same, saving in some Respects; your Soulanimates, vegetates, and renders your Body sensible; the Soul of theBeetle animates his Body: For that some Things act one Way, and someanother, that the Soul of a Man acts differently from the Soul of aBeetle, partly proceeds from the Matter; a Beetle neither sings norspeaks, because it wants Organs fit for these Actions. 

_Fa. _ Why then you say, that if the Soul of a Beetle should pass intothe 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 noDifference between an Angel and a human Soul, but that the Soul of a Manwas formed to act a human Body compos'd of natural Organs; and as theSoul of a Beetle will move nothing but the Body of a Beetle, an Angelwas not made to animate a Body, but to be capable to understand withoutbodily 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 ofNature. 

_Fa. _ In Truth, instead of one Soul you have given me a great many; ananimal, a vegetative, a sensitive, an intelligent, a remembring, awilling, an angry, and desiring: One was enough for me. 

_Eu. _ There are different Actions of the same Soul, and these havedifferent Names. 

_Fa. _ I don't well understand you. 

_Eu. _ Well then, I'll make you understand me: You are a Wife in theBed-Chamber, in your Work-Shop a Weaver of Hangings, in your Warehouse aSeller 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 sameHouse. 

_Fa. _ You philosophize very bluntly. Is then the Soul so in the Body asI am in my House?

_Eu. _ It is. 

_Fa. _ But while I am weaving in my Work-Shop, I am not cooking in myKitchen. 

_Eu. _ Nor are you all Soul, but a Soul carrying about a Body, and theBody can't be in many Places at the same Time; but the Soul being asimple Form, is so in the whole Body, tho' it does not act the same inall Parts of the Body, nor after the same Manner, how differentlyaffected 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 andTongue, and feels in all Parts of the Body which are adjoined to anynervous Part: But it does not feel in the Hair, nor the Ends of theNails; neither do the Lungs feel of themselves, nor the Liver, norperhaps the Milt neither. 

_Fa. _ So that in certain Parts of the Body it only animates andvegetates. 

_Eu. _ It should seem so. 

_Fa. _ If one and the same Soul does all these Things in one and the sameMan, it follows of Consequence, that the _Foetus_ in the Womb of theMother, both feels and understands, as soon as it begins to grow; whichis a Sign of Life, unless a Man in his Formation has more Souls thanone, and afterwards the rest giving Place, one acts all. So that atfirst a Man is a Plant, then an Animal, and lastly a Man. 

_Eu. _ Perhaps _Aristotle_ would not think what you say absurd: I thinkit 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 aQuantity 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 hecarries about. 

_Fa. _ He does move it indeed; but so at the same Time that he moveshimself too, as a Pilot steers a Ship, turning it which Way he will, andis at the same Time mov'd with it. 

_Eu. _ Ay, and as a Squirrel turns his Wheel-Cage about, and is himselfcarried 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 tothe Soul of _Solomon_. 

_Eu. _ There's no Absurdity in that. 

_Fa. _ And so the Angels are equal, in as much as they are withoutMatter, which, you say, is that which makes the Inequality. 

_Eu. _ We have had Philosophy enough: Let Divines puzzle themselves aboutthese Things; let us discourse of those Matters that were firstmentioned. If you would be a compleat Mother, take Care of the Body ofyour little Infant, so that after the little Fire of the Mind hasdisengaged itself from the Vapours, it may have sound and fit Organs tomake Use of. As often as you hear your Child crying, think this withyourself, he calls for this from me. When you look upon your Breasts, those two little Fountains, turgid, and of their own Accord streamingout a milky Juice, remember Nature puts you in Mind of your Duty: Orelse, when your Infant shall begin to speak, and with his prettyStammering 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 ahireling Nipple, as if you had committed him to a Goat or a Sheep. Whenhe is able to speak, what if, instead of calling you Mother, he shouldcall you Half-Mother? I suppose you would whip him: Altho' indeed she isscarce Half a Mother that refuses to feed what she has brought into theWorld. 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 Bodyof the Mother. He requires the same natural, familiar, accustomedMoisture, that he drew in when in her Body, and by which he received hisCoalition. And I am of that Opinion, that the Genius of Children arevitiated by the Nature of the Milk they suck, as the Juices of the Earthchange the Nature of those Plants and Fruits that it feeds. Do you thinkthere is no Foundation in Reason for this Saying, _He suck'd in this illHumour with the Nurse's Milk?_ Nor do I think the Greeks spoke withoutReason, when they said _like Nurses_, when they would intimate that anyone was starved at Nurse: For they put a little of what they chew intothe 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 throwsit away as soon as she has brought it forth; that is to miscarry, andthe _Greek_ Etymology of [Greek: Mêtêr] from [Greek: mê têrein], _i. E. _from not looking after, seems very well to suit such Mothers. For it isa Sort of turning a little Infant out of Doors, to put it to a hirelingNurse, while it is yet warm from the Mother. 

_Fa. _ I would come over to your Opinion, unless such a Woman werechosen, 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 aNurse, that I question whether there is such an one to be found; do youthink there is any one in the World will go through all the Fatigue ofNursing 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 theMother, then she will take Care like a Mother. And besides, this will bethe Effect of it, that your Son won't love you so heartily, that nativeAffection being as it were divided between two Mothers; nor will youhave the same Affection for your Son: So that when he is grown up, hewill neither be so obedient to you, nor will you have the same Regardfor him, perhaps perceiving in him the Disposition of his Nurse. Theprincipal Step to Advancement in Learning, is the mutual Love betweenthe Teacher and Scholar: So that if he does not lose any Thing of theFragrancy of his native good Temper, you will with the greater Ease beable to instil into him the Precepts of a good Life. And a Mother can domuch in this Matter, in that she has pliable Matter to work upon, thatis easy to be carried any Way. 

_Fa. _ I find it is not so easy a Thing to be a Mother, as it isgenerally looked upon to be. 

_Eu. _ If you can't depend upon what I say, St. _Paul_, speaking veryplainly 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 notperformed the Duty of a Mother before you have first formed the littletender Body of your Son, and after that his Mind, equally soft, by agood Education. 

_Fa. _ But it is not in the Power of the Mother that the Children shouldpersevere 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 degeneratefrom Piety. But in the last Place, if you do what is in your Power, Godwill add his Assistance to your Diligence. 

_Fa. _ Indeed _Eutrapelus_, your Discourse has persuaded me, if you canbut persuade my Parents and my Husband. 

_Eu. _ Well, I'll take that upon me, if you will but lend your helpingHand. 

_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 theNurse bring the Child. 

_Eu. _ 'Tis a very pretty Boy. It is a common Saying, there ought to beGrains of Allowance given to the first Essay: But you upon the firstTrial have shewn the very highest Pitch of Art. 

_Fa. _ Why, it is not a Piece of carved Work, that so much Art should berequired. 

_Eu. _ That's true; but it is a Piece of cast Work. Well, let that be howit will, it is well performed. I wish you could make as good Figures inthe 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 solicitousis Nature, that nothing should be lost! It has represented two Personsin one; here's the Nose and Eyes of the Father, the Forehead and Chin ofthe Mother Can you find in your Heart to entrust this dear Pledge tothe Fidelity of a Stranger? I think those to be doubly cruel that canfind in their Hearts so to do; because in doing so, they do not only dothis to the Hazard of the Child; but also of themselves too; because inthe Child, the spoiling of the Milk oftentimes brings dangerousDiseases, and so it comes about, that while Care is taken to preservethe Shape of one Body, the Lives of two Bodies are not regarded; andwhile they provide against old Age coming on too early, they throwthemselves 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 wishhe 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 willundertake it. 

_Fa. _ Well then, I won't discharge you till you have finished the goodService 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 withpious Principles. 

_Eu. _ That I will readily do another Time, according to my Ability; butthat must be at our next Conversation: I will now go and prevail uponyour Husband and Parents. 

_Fa. _ I wish you may succeed. 

END OF VOL. I.