AULUS, BARBATUS.

_AU._ _Salute freely_, is a Lesson for Children. But I can't tell

whether I should bid you be well or no.

_Ba._ In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me be

so. _Aulus_, Why do you say that?

_Au._ Why? Because if you have a Mind to know, you smell of Brimstone,

or _Jupiter's_ Thunderbolt.

_Ba._ There are mischievous Deities, and there are harmless

Thunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that are

ominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication.

_Au._ You're right.

_Ba._ I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt the

Blow of the Thunderbolt.

_Au._ How so?

_Ba._ Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the less

sound.

_Au._ But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the less

it is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike the

Mountains and the Seas.

_Ba._ They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effect

upon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or a

Vessel of Brass.

_Au._ Why, and that affrights too.

_Ba._ It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. None

but God has Thunderbolts that strike the Soul.

_Au._ But suppose God is in his Vicar.

_Ba._ I wish he were.

_Au._ A great many Folks admire, that you are not become blacker than a

Coal before now.

_Ba._ Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were so

much the more to be desired, if Men followed the Doctrine of the Gospel.

_Au._ It is to be wished indeed, but not to be spoken of.

_Ba._ Why so?

_Au._ That he that is smitten with the Thunderbolt may be ashamed and

repent.

_Ba._ If God had done so by us, we had been all lost.

_Au._ Why so?

_Ba._ Because when we were Enemies to God, and Worshippers of Idols,

fighting under Satan's Banner, that is to say, every Way most accursed;

then in an especial Manner he spake to us by his Son, and by his

treating with us restored us to Life when we were dead.

_Au._ That thou say'st is indeed very true.

_Ba._ In Truth it would go very hard with all sick Persons, if the

Physician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch was

seized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for the

Assistance of a Doctor.

_Au._ But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemper

than I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visits

a sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician.

_Ba._ Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in the

Diseases of the Mind you have an Antidote ready against every Contagion.

_Au._ What's that?

_Ba._ A strong Resolution not to be removed from the Opinion that has

been fixed in you. But besides, what Need you fear to become a Fighter,

where the Business is managed by Words?

_Au._ There is something in what you say, if there be any Hope of doing

any good.

_Ba._ While there is Life there is Hope, and according to St. _Paul,

Charity can't despair, because it hopes all Things_.

_Au._ You observe very well, and upon this Hope I may venture to

discourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be a

Physician to you.

_Ba._ Do, with all my Heart.

_Au._ Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians are

allowed to be inquisitive after every particular Thing.

_Ba._ Ask me any Thing that you have a Mind to ask me.

_Au._ I'll try. But you must promise me you'll answer me sincerely.

_Ba._ I'll promise you. But let me know what you'll ask me about.

_Au._ Concerning the Apostles Creed.

_Ba._ _Symbolum_ is indeed a military Word. I will be content to be

look'd upon an Enemy to Christ, if I shall deceive you in this Matter.

_Au._ Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, who made the Heaven

and Earth.

_Ba._ Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and the

Angels also which are Spirits.

_Au._ When thou say'st God, what dost thou understand by it?

_Ba._ I understand a certain eternal Mind, which neither had Beginning

nor shall have any End, than which nothing can be either greater, wiser,

or better.

_Au._ Thou believest indeed like a good Christian.

_Ba._ Who by his omnipotent Beck made all Things visible or invisible;

who by his wonderful Wisdom orders and governs all Things; who by his

Goodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankind

when fallen.

_Au._ These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But what

Benefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them?

_Ba._ When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly to

him, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels is

nothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teach

to have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done by

him, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, how

impossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrusting

my own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When I

consider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believe

all Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they may

seem to human Sense absurd or unjust. When I animadvert on his Goodness,

I see nothing in myself that I do not owe to free Grace, and I think

there is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a true

Penitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks in

Faith.

_Au._ Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him to

be so?

_Ba._ By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust and

Confidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magic

Arts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equalling

nothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife,

nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to lay

down my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possibly

perish who commits himself wholly to him.

_Au._ What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothing

but God alone?

_Ba._ If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, it

is for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring all

Things to his Glory, always giving Thanks to him for whatsoever happens,

whether prosperous or adverse, Life or Death.

_Au._ In Truth your Confession is very sound so far. What do you think

concerning the second Person?

_Ba._ Examine me.

_Au._ Dost thou believe Jesus was God and Man?

_Ba._ Yes.

_Au._ Could it be that the same should be both immortal God and mortal

Man?

_Ba._ That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: And

by Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father,

whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, I

attribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owe

also to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father to

bestow all Things on us through him.

_Au._ Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lord

than God?

_Ba._ Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, of

Sovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who is

absolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of the

Godhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' the

Father also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God the

Father. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Place

among the divine Persons.

_Au._ Then dost thou put thy Confidence in _Jesus_?

_Ba._ Why not?

_Au._ But the Prophet calls him accursed who puts his Trust in Man.

_Ba._ But to this Man alone hath all the Power in Heaven and Earth been

given, that at his Name every Knee should bow, both of Things in Heaven,

Things in Earth, and Things under the Earth. Although I would not put my

chief Confidence and Hope in him, unless he were God.

_Au._ Why do you call him Son?

_Ba._ Lest any should imagine him to be a Creature.

_Au._ Why an only Son?

_Ba._ To distinguish the natural Son from the Sons by Adoption, the

Honour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for no

other besides this Son.

_Au._ Why would he have him to be made Man, who was God?

_Ba._ That being Man, he might reconcile Men to God.

_Au._ Dost thou believe he was conceived without the Help of Man, by the

Operation of the holy Ghost, and born of the undented Virgin _Mary_,

taking a mortal Body of her Substance?

_Ba._ Yes.

_Au._ Why would he be so born?

_Ba._ Because it so became God to be born, because it became him to be

born in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of our

Conception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, that

we being regenerated into him, might be made the Sons of God.

_Au._ Dost thou believe that he lived here upon Earth, did Miracles,

taught those Things that are recorded to us in the Gospel?

_Ba._ Ay, more certainly than I believe you to be a Man.

_Au._ I am not an _Apuleius_ turned inside out, that you should suspect

that an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe this

very Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowed

out, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the _Jews_ looked

for so many Ages?

_Ba._ I believe nothing more firmly.

_Au._ Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead us

to perfect Piety?

_Ba._ Yes, perfectly sufficient.

_Au._ Dost thou believe that the same was really apprehended by the

_Jews_, bound, buffeted, beaten, spit upon, mock'd, scourg'd under

_Pontius Pilate_; and lastly, nailed to the Cross, and there died?

_Ba._ Yes, I do.

_Au._ Do you believe him to have been free from all the Law of Sin

whatsoever?

_Ba._ Why should I not? A Lamb without Spot.

_Au._ Dost thou believe he suffered all these Things of his own accord?

_Ba._ Not only willingly, but even with great Desire; but according to

the Will of his Father.

_Au._ Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and most

dear to him, suffer all these Things?

_Ba._ That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who were

guilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name.

_Au._ Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did suffer

them, was there no other Way to be found out to repair our Fall?

_Ba._ Not human Reason, but Faith hath persuaded me of this, that it

could be done no Way better nor more beneficially for our Salvation.

_Au._ Why did this Kind of Death please him best?

_Ba._ Because in the Esteem of the World it was the most disgraceful,

and because the Torment of it was cruel and lingring, because it was

meet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World unto

Salvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World,

and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenly

Things; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazen

Serpent that _Moses_ set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix his

Eyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfil

the Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, _say ye among the Nations, God

hath reign'd from a Tree_.

_Au._ Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed with

Myrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard and

natural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen set

there?

_Ba._ That it might be the more manifest that he was really dead.

_Au._ Why did he not rise again presently?

_Ba._ For the very same Reason; for if his Death had been doubtful, his

Resurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be as

certain as possible could be.

_Au._ Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell?

_Ba._ St. _Cyprian_ affirms that this Clause was not formerly inserted

either in the _Roman_ Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches,

neither is it recorded in _Tertullian_, a very ancient Writer. And yet

notwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with the

Prophecy of the Psalm, _Thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell_; and again,

_O Lord, thou hast brought my Soul out of Hell_. And also because the

Apostle _Peter_, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of the

Author whereof no Man ever doubted,) writes after this Manner, _Being

put to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also he

came and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison_. But

though I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not suffer

anything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that he

might destroy the Kingdom of Satan.

_Au._ Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that he

might restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did he

rise to live again?

_Ba._ For three Reasons especially.

_Au._ Which are they?

_Ba._ First of all, to give us an assur'd Hope of our Resurrection.

Secondly, that we might know that he in whom we have plac'd the Safety

of our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that we

being dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him by

Baptism, should by his Grace be raised up again to Newness of Life.

_Au._ Do you believe that the very same Body that died upon the Cross,

which reviv'd in the Grave, which was seen and handled by the Disciples,

ascended into Heaven?

_Ba._ Yes, I do.

_Au._ Why would he leave the Earth?

_Ba._ That we might all love him spiritually, and that no Man should

appropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equally

lift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Men

now so much please themselves in the Colour and Shape of the Garment,

and do boast so much of the Blood or the Foreskin of Christ, and the

Milk of the Virgin _Mary_, what do you think would have been, had he

abode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would those

Peculiarities of his Body have occasioned?

_Au._ Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at the

right Hand of the Father?

_Ba._ Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all his

Father's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and he

presented this Sight to his Martyr _Stephen_.

_Au._ Why did he shew it?

_Ba._ That we may not be discouraged in any Thing, well knowing what a

powerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven.

_Au._ Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judge

the Quick and the Dead?

_Ba._ As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretold

concerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, that

whatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass.

We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of the

Prophets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. We

shall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory of

his Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and of

every Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, _Greeks_, or _Scythians_,

shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming he

shall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning of

the World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and behold

his Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall be

there as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will,

from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast the

Devil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternal

Punishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief to

any. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to a

Fellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have the

Day of his coming unknown to all.

_Au._ I hear no Error yet. Let us now come to the third Person.

_Ba._ As you please.

_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Spirit?

_Ba._ I do believe that it is true God, together with the Father, and

the Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and New

Testament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attains

Salvation.

_Au._ Why is he called a Spirit?

_Ba._ Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds are

quicken'd by the secret Inspiration of the holy Spirit.

_Au._ Is it not lawful to call the Father a Spirit?

_Ba._ Why not?

_Au._ Are not then the Persons confounded?

_Ba._ No, not at all, for the Father is called a Spirit, because he is

without a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according to

their divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because he

breathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even as

the Air breathes from the Land, or the Rivers.

_Au._ Why is the Name of Son given to the second Person?

_Ba._ Because of his perfect Likeness of Nature and Will.

_Au._ Is the Son more like the Father, than the holy Spirit?

_Ba._ Not according to the divine Nature, except that he resembles the

Property of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds from

him also.

_Au._ What hinders then, but that the holy Spirit may be called Son.

_Ba._ Because, as St. _Hilary_ saith, I no where read that he was

begotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the _Spirit, and

that proceeding from_.

_Au._ Why is the Father alone called God in the Creed?

_Ba._ Because he, as I have said before, is simply the Author of all

Things that are, and the Fountain of the whole Deity.

_Au._ Speak in plainer Terms.

_Ba._ Because nothing can be nam'd which hath not its Original from the

Father: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit is

God, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; therefore

the chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in the

Father alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it may

be so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, but

used in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms of

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Nature

comprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the three

Persons.

_Au._ Dost thou believe in the holy Church?

_Ba._ No.

_Au._ What say you? Do you not believe in it?

_Ba._ I believe the holy Church, which is the Body of Christ; that is to

say, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, who

agree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, who

put their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spirit

of him; from whose Fellowship he is cut off that commits a deadly Sin.

_Au._ But why do you stick to say, I believe in the holy Church?

_Ba._ Because St. _Cyprian_ hath taught me, that we must believe in God

alone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church,

properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet it

consists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, and

deceive others.

_Au._ What do you think of the Communion of Saints?

_Ba._ This Article is not all meddled with by _Cyprian_, when he

particularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used;

for he thus connects them: _For there followeth after this Saying, the

holy Church, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of this Flesh_.

And some are of Opinion, that this Part does not differ from the former;

but that it explains and enforces what before was called _the holy

Church_; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of one

God, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the same

Spirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communion

of all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from the

Beginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of the

Members of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds of

one may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. But

out of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further his

Salvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; and

therefore it follows, _the Forgiveness of Sins_; because out of the

Church there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himself

away with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, I

say, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered by

the Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and after

Baptism, by Repentence, and the Keys given to the Church.

_Au._ Thus far they are the Words of a Man that is sound in the Faith.

Do you believe that there will be a Resurrection of the Flesh?

_Ba._ I should believe all the rest to no Purpose, if I did not believe

this, which is the Head of all.

_Au._ What dost thou mean, when thou say'st the Flesh?

_Ba._ An human Body animated with a human Soul.

_Au._ Shall every Soul receive its own Body which is left dead?

_Ba._ The very same from whence it went out; and therefore, in Cyprian's

Creed, it is added, _of this Flesh_.

_Au._ How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'd

out of one Thing into another, can rise again the same?

_Ba._ He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it a

hard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath been

changed in its Form? I don't dispute anxiously which Way it can be done;

it is sufficient to me, that he who hath promised that it shall be so,

is so true, that he can't lye, and so powerful, as to be able to bring

to pass with a Beck, whatsoever he pleases.

_Au._ What need will there be of a Body then?

_Ba._ That the whole Man may be glorified with Christ, who, in this

World, was wholly afflicted with Christ.

_Au._ What means that which he adds, _and Life everlasting_.

_Ba._ Lest any one should think that we shall so rise again, as the

Frogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is a

twofold Death of the Body, that is common to all Men, both good and bad;

and of the Soul, and the Death of the Soul is Sin. But after the

Resurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body and

Soul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, old

Age, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; but

being made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Nor

shall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; but

shall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On the

contrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon the

wicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduring

everlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with the

Gripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon.

_Au._ Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, and

unfeignedly?

_Ba._ I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so sure

that you talk with me.

_Au._ When I was at _Rome_, I did not find all so sound in the Faith.

_Ba._ Nay; but if you examine thoroughly, you'll find a great many

others in other Places too, which do not so firmly believe these Things.

_Au._ Well then, since you agree with us in so many and weighty Points,

what hinders that you are not wholly on our Side?

_Ba._ I have a mind to hear that of you: For I think that I am orthodox.

Although I will not warrant for my Life yet I endeavour all I can, that

it may be suitable to my Profession.

_Au._ How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between you

and the orthodox?

_Ba._ Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are not

displeased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; and

after Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give you

both Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; and

after that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast of

mine, that you may make a better Judgment of me.

_Au._ But I make it a matter of Scruple to eat with thee.

_Ba._ But Physicians use to eat with their Patients, that they might

better observe what they love, and wherein they are irregular.

_Au._ But I am afraid, lest I should seem to favour Hereticks.

_Ba._ Nay, but there is nothing more religious than to favour Hereticks.

_Au._ How so?

_Ba._ Did not _Paul_ wish to be made an _Anathema_ for the _Jews_, which

were worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that a

Man may be made a good Man of a bad Man?

_Au._ Yes, he does so.

_Ba._ Well then, do you favour me thus, and you need not fear any Thing.

_Au._ I never heard a sick Man answer more to the Purpose. Well, come

on, let me dine with you then.

_Ba._ You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes a

Doctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, that

the Mind shall be never the less fit for Disputation.

_Au._ Well, let it be so, with good Birds (_i.e._ with good Success).

_Ba._ Nay, it shall be with bad Fishes, unless you chance to have forgot

that it is _Friday._

_Au._ Indeed, that is beside our Creed.

_The OLD MENS DIALOGUE._

The ARGUMENT.

[Greek: Terontologia], or, [Greek: Ochêma], _shews, as

tho' it were in a Looking-glass, what Things are to be

avoided in Life, and what Things contribute to the

Tranquillity of Life. Old Men that were formerly intimate

Acquaintance when Boys, after forty Years Absence, one

from the other, happen to meet together, going to_

Antwerp. _There seems to be a very great Inequality in

them that are equal in Age._ Polygamus, _he is very old:_

Glycion _has no Signs of Age upon him, tho' he is sixty

six; he proposes a Method of keeping off old Age. I. He

consults what Sort of Life to chuse, and follows the

Advice of a prudent old Man, who persuades him to marry a

Wife that was his equal, making his Choice with Judgment,

before he falls in Love. 2. He has born a publick Office,

but not obnoxious to troublesome Affairs. 3. He transacts

Affairs that do not expose him to Envy. 4. He bridles his

Tongue. 5. He is not violently fond of, nor averse to any

Thing. He moderates his Affections, suffers no Sorrow to

abide with him all Night. 6. He abstains from Vices, and

renews his Patience every Day. 7. He is not anxiously

thoughtful of Death. 8. He does not travel into foreign

Countries. 9. He has nothing to do with Doctors. 10. He

diverts himself with Study, but does not study himself

lean. On the other hand_, Polygamus _has brought old Age

upon him, by the Intemperance of his Youth, by Drinking,

Whoring, Gaming, running in Debt; he had had eight

Wives._ Pampirus, _he becomes a Merchant; but consumes

all he has by Gaming; then he becomes a Canon; then a

Carthusian; after that a Benedictine; and last of all,

turns Soldier._ Eusebius, _he gets a good Benefice and

preaches._

EUSEBIUS, PAMPIRUS, POLYGAMUS, GLYCION, HUGUITIO, _and_ HARRY _the

Coachman._

_Euseb._ What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do not

see clear, I see three old Companions sitting by me; _Pampirus,

Polygamus_ and _Glycion;_ they are certainly the very same.

_Pa._ What do you mean, with your Glass Eyes, you Wizard? Pray come

nearer a little, _Eusebius._

_Po._ Hail, heartily, my wish'd for _Eusebius._

_Gl._ All Health to you, the best of Men.

_Eu._ One Blessing upon you all, my dear Friends. What God, or

providential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none of

us have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why _Mercury_ with

his Mace could not have more luckily brought us together into a Circle;

but what are you doing here?

_Pa._ We are sitting.

_Eu._ I see that, but what do you sit for?

_Po._ We wait for the _Antwerp_ Waggon.

_Eu._ What, are you going to the Fair?

_Po._ We are so: but rather Spectators, than Traders, tho' one has one

Business, and another has another.

_Eu._ Well, and I am going thither myself too. But what hinders you,

that you are not going?

_Po._ We han't agreed with the Waggoner yet.

_Eu._ These Waggoners are a surly Sort of People; but are you willing

that we put a Trick upon them?

_Po._ With all my Heart, if it can be done fairly.

_Eu._ We will pretend that we will go thither a-Foot together.

_Po._ They'll sooner believe that a Crab-Fish will fly, than that such

heavy Fellows as we will take such a Journey on Foot.

_Eu._ Will you follow good wholsome Advice?

_Po._ Yes, by all Means.

_Gl._ They are a drinking, and the longer they are fuddling, the more

Danger we shall be in of being overturned in the Dirt.

_Po._ You must come very early, if you find a Waggoner sober.

_Gl._ Let us hire the Waggon for us four by ourselves, that we may get

to _Antwerp_ the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worth

minding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shall

have the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly in

mutual Conversation.

_Po._ _Glycion_ is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journey

does the Office of a Coach; and according to the _Greek_ Proverb, we

shall have more Liberty of talking, not about a Waggon, but in a Waggon.

_Gl._ Well, I have made a Bargain, let us get up. Now I've a Mind to be

merry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades after

so long a Separation.

_Eu._ And methinks I seem to grow young again.

_Po._ How many Years do you reckon it, since we liv'd together at Paris?

_Eu._ I believe it is not less than two and forty Years.

_Pa._ Then we seem'd to be all pretty much of an Age.

_Eu._ We were so, pretty near the Matter, for if there was any

Difference it was very little.

_Pa._ But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycion

has nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough to

be his Grandfather.

_Eu._ Why truly he does so, but what should be the Reason of it?

_Pa._ What? Why either the one loiter'd and stopp'd in his Course, or

the other run faster (out-run him).

_Eu._ Oh! Time does not stay, how much soever Men may loiter.

_Po._ Come, tell us, _Glycion_ truly, how many Years do you number?

_Gl._ More than Ducats in my Pocket.

_Po._ Well, but how many?

_Gl._ Threescore and six.

_Eu._ Why thou'lt never be old.

_Po._ But by what Arts hast thou kept off old Age? for you have no grey

Hairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth are

white and even, you have a fresh Colour, and a plump Body.

_Gl._ I'll tell you my Art, upon Condition you'll tell us your Art of

coming to be old so soon.

_Po._ I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither you

went when you left _Paris._

_Gl._ I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had been

there almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life to

chuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to my

future Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successful

to some, and what had been unsuccessful to others.

_Po._ I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggot

as any in the World, when you were at _Paris._

_Gl._ Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, you

must know, I did not do all this neither of my own mother-Wit.

_Po._ Indeed I stood in Admiration.

_Gl._ Before I engaged in any Thing, I applied to a certain Citizen, a

Man of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of a

general Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the most

happy Man in the World.

_Eu._ You did wisely.

_Gl._ By this Man's Advice I married a Wife.

_Po._ Had she a very good Portion?

_Gl._ An indifferent good one, and according to the Proverb, in a

competent Proportion to my own: For I had just enough to do my Business,

and this Matter succeeded to my Mind.

_Po._ What was your Age then?

_Gl._ Almost two and twenty.

_Po._ O happy Man!

_Gl._ But don't mistake the Matter; all this was not owing to Fortune

neither.

_Po._ Why so?

_Gl._ I'll tell you; some love before they chuse, I made my Choice with

Judgment first, and then lov'd afterwards, and nevertheless I married

this Woman more for the Sake of Posterity than for any carnal

Satisfaction. With her I liv'd a very pleasant Life, but not above eight

Years.

_Po._ Did she leave you no children?

_Gl._ Nay, I have four alive, two Sons and two Daughters.

_Po._ Do you live as a private Person, or in some publick Office?

_Gl._ I have a publick Employ. I might have happen'd to have got into a

higher Post, but I chose this because it was creditable enough to secure

me from Contempt, and is free from troublesome Attendance: And it is

such, that no Body need object against me that I live only for myself, I

have also something to spare now and then to assist a Friend. With this

I live content, and it is the very Height of my Ambition. And then I

have taken Care so to execute my Office, to give more Reputation to my

Office than I receiv'd from it; this I account to be more honourable,

than to borrow my Dignity from the Splendor of my Office.

_Eu._ Without all Controversy.

_Gl._ By this Means I am advanced in Years, and the Affections of my

fellow Citizens.

_Eu._ But that's one of the difficultest Things in the World, when with

very good Reason there is this old Saying: _He that has no Enemies has

no Friends_; and _Envy is always an Attendant on Felicity_.

_Gl._ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a

Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage

to myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as

I could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance of

Business. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I kept

myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining

the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so

serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of

any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften

it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good

Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid

Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my

Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, I

affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and

resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or

does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy

his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I

never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to

come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent

Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with

Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between

Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or

heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate

them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear

of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens.

_Pa._ Did you not find a single Life irksome to you?

_Gl._ Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more

afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately

wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the

Comfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw

it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both,

and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself

with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased.

_Pol._ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the

first having been so happy a Match to you?

_Gl._ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of

Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again.

_Pol._ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a

Bedfellow.

_Gl._ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the

Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will

be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed to

be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life.

And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now

_Metrodorus_ pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good

in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that

Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for

any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune

happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any

thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd.

_Pa._ Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than

_Thales_ himself.

_Gl._ If any Uneasiness in my Mind rises, (as mortal Life produces many

of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from

the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly.

_Pol._ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Anger

of the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequently

are.

_Gl._ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an

Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with

myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will

be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at

first, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I be

sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to

go to Bed with me.

_Eu._ No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper.

_Gl._ Well, and that I mayn't conceal any thing from Friends, in an

especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any

Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my

Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty

Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I

have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain

of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, [Greek:

euthymia]. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury.

_Eu._ Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of

Death?

_Gl._ No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die,

and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be

sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but

to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a

Man can't live happily that does not live piously.

_Pa._ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in

the same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself.

_Gl._ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but

then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's

Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to

myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in

Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Years

together, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about two

Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a

Country-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to the

City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from

the new-found Islands.

_Eu._ Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick?

_Gl._ I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet.

If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet

or the Country Air.

_Eu._ Don't you study sometimes?

_Gl._ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a

Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit

of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of

learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my

Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and

walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I

have read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after

a While I return to my Book again.

_Eu._ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none

of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many?

_Gl._ My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix any

thing deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I

have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myself

young, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Age

upon him to that Degree.

_Po._ Indeed, I will hide nothing from such trusty Companions.

_Eu._ You will tell it to those that will not make a Discourse of it.

_Po._ You very well know I indulg'd my Appetite when I was at _Paris_.

_Eu._ We remember it very well. But we thought that you had left your

rakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_.

_Po._ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was big

with Child.

_Eu._ What, into your Father's House?

_Po._ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who was

to come to her in a little Time.

_Gl._ Did your Father believe it?

_Po._ He smelt the Matter out in three or four Days time, and then there

was a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave off

Feasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, my

Father continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cackling

Gossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, I

march'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought me

some young Chickens.

_Pa._ Where had you Money all the While?

_Po._ My Mother gave me some by Stealth, and I ran over Head and Ears in

Debt.

_Eu._ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you?

_Po._ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily than

they will a Spendthrift.

_Pa._ And what next?

_Po._ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in good

earnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon this

Condition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one of

our own Country.

_Eu._ Was she your Wife?

_Po._ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, but

there had been carnal Copulation in the present Tense.

_Eu._ How could you leave her then?

_Po._ It came to be known afterwards, that my _French_ Woman had a

_French_ Husband that she had elop'd from some Time before.

_Eu._ But it seems you have a Wife now.

_Po._ None besides this which is my Eighth.

_Eu._ The Eighth! Why then you were named _Polygamus_ by Way of

Prophecy. Perhaps they all died without Children.

_Po._ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I have

at Home.

_Eu._ I had rather have so many Hens at Home, which would lay me Eggs.

An't you weary of wifeing?

_Po._ I am so weary of it, that if this Eighth should die to Day, I

would marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not have

two or three, when one Cock has so many Hens.

_Eu._ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and that

you have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings on

old Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours,

and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But who

maintains your Family all this While?

_Po._ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I work

hard with my Hands.

_Eu._ Have you given over Study then?

_Po._ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Master

of seven Arts, I am become a Workman of but one Art.

_Eu._ Poor Man! So many Times you were obliged to be a Mourner, and so

many Times a Widower.

_Po._ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always put

an End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth the

Epitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration of

his Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he is

two or three Years older than I.

_Pa._ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such a

Romance.

_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it.

_Pa._ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly to

enter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what I

had; and after long Consultation Merchandizing was what I took to.

_Po._ I admire this Way of Life pleas'd you more than any other.

_Pa._ I was naturally greedy to know new Things, to see various

Countries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners of

Men, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. From

which a general Knowledge of Things proceeds.

_Po._ But a wretched one, which is often purchas'd with Inconveniencies.

_Pa._ It is so, therefore my Father gave me a good large Stock, that I

might begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time I

courted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone off

without a Portion.

_Eu._ Did you succeed?

_Pa._ No. Before I came Home, I lost all, Stock and Block.

_Eu._ Perhaps by Shipwreck.

_Pa._ By Shipwreck indeed. For we run upon more dangerous Rocks than

those of _Scilly_.

_Eu._ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is the

Name of it?

_Pa._ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamous

for the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, the

Devil's Bones] in _Latin_, how you call it in _Greek_ I can't tell.

_Eu._ O Fool!

_Pa._ Nay, my Father was a greater Fool, to trust a young Fop with such

a Sum of Money.

_Gl._ And what did you do next?

_Pa._ Why nothing at all, but I began to think of hanging myself.

_Gl._ Was your Father so implacable then? For such a Loss might be made

up again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes the

first Essay, and much more it ought to be to one that tries all Things.

_Pa._ Tho' what you say may be true, I lost my Wife in the mean Time.

For as soon as the Maid's Parents came to understand what they must

expect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head and

Ears in Love.

_Gl._ I pity thee. But what did you propose to yourself after that?

_Pa._ To do as it is usual in desperate Cases. My Father had cast me

off, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'd

a Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberate

seriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether I

should throw myself into a Monastery.

_Eu._ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, the

easier Way of Dying.

_Pa._ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'd

to me the most painful.

_Gl._ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that they

may live more comfortably there.

_Pa._ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole out

of my own Country.

_Gl._ Whither did you go at last?

_Pa._ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order that

wear Linnen outwards and Woollen next their Skin.

_Gl._ Did you spend your Winter in _Ireland_?

_Pa._ No. But by that Time I had been among them two Months I sail'd

into _Scotland_.

_Gl._ What displeas'd you among them?

_Pa._ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enough

for the Deserts of one, that once Hanging was too good for.

_Gl._ Well, what past in _Scotland_?

_Pa._ Then I chang'd my Linnen Habit for a Leathern one, among the

Carthusians.

_Eu._ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead to

the World.

_Pa._ It seem'd so to me, when I heard them Singing.

_Gl._ What? Do dead Men sing? But how many Months did you spend among

the _Scots_?

_Pa._ Almost six.

_Gl._ A wonderful Constancy.

_Eu._ What offended you there?

_Pa._ Because it seem'd to me to be a lazy, delicate Sort of Life; and

then I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reason

of their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid I

should lose it all.

_Po._ Whither did you take your next Flight?

_Pa._ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of the

Order of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, that

they are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, that

for their upper Garment wore Hair-Cloth like a Net.

_Gl._ A grievous Mortification of the Flesh.

_Pa._ Here I stay'd eleven Months.

_Eu._ What was the Matter that you did not stay there for good and all?

_Pa._ Because I found there were more Ceremonies than true Piety: And

besides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which

_Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit being

chang'd into a white one; with these I liv'd ten Months.

_Eu._ What disgusted you here?

_Pa._ I did not much dislike any Thing, for I found them very good

Company; but the _Greek_ Proverb ran in my Mind;

[Greek: Dei tas chelônas ê phagein ê mê phagein.]

_One must either eat Snails, or eat nothing at all._

Therefore I came to a Resolution, either not to be a Monk, or to be a

Monk to Perfection. I had heard there were some of the Order of St.

_Bridget_, that were really heavenly Men, I betook myself to these.

_Eu._ How many Months did you stay there?

_Pa._ Two Days; but not quite that.

_Gl._ Did that Kind of Life please you no better than so?

_Pa._ They take no Body in, but those that will profess themselves

presently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily to

put my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And as

often as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that I

had lost, tormented my Mind.

_Gl._ Well, and what after this?

_Pa._ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I met

with any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up and

down, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at first

Sight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Some

carried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some a

party-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some a

quadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, that

I might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I found

in reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Cross

on a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tired

with Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holiness

all at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so would

return Home with a Back-Load of Sanctimony.

_Po._ And did you go thither?

_Pa._ Yes.

_Po._ Where did you get Money to bear your Charges?

_Pa._ I wonder it never came into your Head, to ask that before now, and

not to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the old

Proverb; _a Man of Art will live any where_.

_Gl._ What Art do you carry with you?

_Pa._ Palmistry.

_Gl._ Where did you learn it?

_Pa._ What signifies that?

_Gl._ Who was your Master?

_Pa._ My Belly, the great Master of all Arts: I foretold Things past,

present, and to come.

_Gl._ And did you know any Thing of the Matter?

_Pa._ Nothing at all; but I made bold Guesses, and run no Risque

neither, having got my Money first.

_Po._ And was so ridiculous an Art sufficient to maintain you?

_Pa._ It was, and two Servants too: There is every where such a Number

of foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to

_Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who being

seventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless he

had first visited _Jerusalem_.

_Eu._ What, did he leave a Wife at Home?

_Pa._ Yes, and six Children.

_Eu._ O impious, pious, old Man! Well, and did you come back holy from

thence?

_Pa._ Shall I tell you the Truth? Somewhat worse than I went.

_Eu._ So, as I hear, your Religion was grown cool.

_Pa._ Nay, it grew more hot: So I went back into _Italy_, and enter'd

into the Army.

_Eu._ What, then, did you look for Religion in the Camp. Than which,

what is there that can be more impious?

_Pa._ It was a holy War.

_Eu._ Perhaps against the _Turks_.

_Pa._ Nay, more holy than that, as they indeed gave out at that Time.

_Eu._ What was that?

_Pa._ Pope _Julius_ the Second made War upon the _French_. And the

Experience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier's

Life.

_Eu._ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones.

_Pa._ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than I

did in the Monasteries.

_Eu._ And what did you do after this?

_Pa._ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to my

Business of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward in

Pursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came into

my Mind, that I might follow both together.

_Eu._ What, be a Merchant and a Monk both together?

_Pa._ Why not? There is nothing more religious than the Orders of

Mendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly over

Sea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enter

into the Houses of common People, Noblemen, and Kings.

_Eu._ Ay, but they don't Trade for Gain.

_Pa._ Very often, with better Success than we do.

_Eu._ Which of these Orders did you make Choice of?

_Pa._ I try'd them all.

_Eu._ Did none of them please you?

_Pa._ I lik'd them all well enough, if I might but presently have gone

to Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time in

the Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began to

think how I might get to be made an Abbot: But, I thought with myself,

_Kissing goes by Favour_, and it will be a tedious Pursuit: So having

spent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, I

return'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myself

to my old Business of Traffick.

_Gl._ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and were

transform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could you

behave yourself with a proper Decorum?

_Pa._ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act several

Parts?

_Eu._ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort of

Life, which you most approve of.

_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which I

follow.

_Eu._ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it.

_Pa._ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that is

entirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the best

on't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much to

acquaint his Friends with some Scenes of his Course of Life.

_Eu._ Nay, with the whole Play of it, if you please to hear it, for it

does not consist of many Acts.

_Gl._ It will be a very great Favour.

_Eu._ When I return'd to my own Country, I took a Year to deliberate

what Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment my

Inclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary was

offered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I accepted

it.

_Gl._ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People.

_Eu._ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth the

accepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so many

Advantages to fall into a Man's Mouth, as tho' they dropt out of Heaven;

handsome Houses well furnish'd, a large Revenue, an honourable Society,

and a Church at Hand, to serve God in, when you have a Mind to it?

_Pa._ I was scandaliz'd at the Luxury of the Persons, and the Infamy of

their Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have an

Aversion to Learning.

_Eu._ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, and

associate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that are

bad better.

_Po._ And is that the State of Life you have always liv'd in?

_Eu._ Always, except four Years, that I liv'd at _Padua_.

_Po._ What did you do there?

_Eu._ These Years I divided in this Manner; I studied Physick a Year and

a half, and the rest of the Time Divinity.

_Po._ Why so?

_Eu._ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and also

sometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preached

sometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I have

led a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not being

ambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it had

been offered me.

_Pa._ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions have

liv'd, that were our Familiars.

_Eu._ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not far

from the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up the

same Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure.

_Hugh. [a Waggoner.]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up this

Rubbish?

_Harry the Waggoner._ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp?

_Hugh._ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bed

of Nettles, to make them grow warm again.

_Harry._ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into a

Pond to cool them, to lay their Concupiscence, for they are too hot.

_Hugh._ I am not us'd to overturn my Passengers.

_Harry._ No? but I saw you a little While ago, overturn Half a Dozen

Carthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they came

out black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some noble

Exploit.

_Hugh._ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a dead

Weight to my Waggon.

_Harry._ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, have

made my Waggon go light. I never had a better Fare.

_Hugh._ But you don't use to like such Passengers.

_Harry._ But these are good old Men.

_Hugh._ How do you know that?

_Harry._ Because they made me drink humming Ale, three Times by the Way.

_Hugh._ Ha, ha, ha, then they are good to you.

_The FRANCISCANS,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or RICH BEGGARS._

The ARGUMENT.

_The_ Franciscans, _or rich poor Persons, are not

admitted into the House of a Country Parson_. Pandocheus

_jokes wittily upon them. The Habit is not to be

accounted odious. The Life and Death of the_ Franciscans.

_Of the foolish Pomp of Habits. The Habits of Monks are

not in themselves evil. What Sort of Persons Monks ought

to be. The Use of Garments is for Necessity and Decency.

What Decency is. Whence arose the Variety of Habits and

Garments among the Monks. That there was in old Time no

Superstition in the Habits._

CONRADE, _a Bernardine_ Monk, _a_ Parson, _an_ Inn-Keeper _and his_

Wife.

_Con._ Hospitality becomes a Pastor.

_Pars._ But I am a Pastor of Sheep; I don't love Wolves.

_Con._ But perhaps you don't hate a Wench so much. But what Harm have we

done you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so much

as admit us under your Roof? We won't put you to the Charge of a Supper.

_Pars._ I'll tell ye, because if you spy but a Hen or a Chicken in a

Body's House, I should be sure to hear of it to-Morrow in the Pulpit.

This is the Gratitude you shew for your being entertain'd.

_Con._ We are not all such Blabs.

_Pars._ Well, be what you will, I'd scarce put Confidence in St.

_Peter_ himself, if he came to me in such a Habit.

_Con._ If that be your Resolution, at least tell us where is an Inn.

_Pars._ There's a publick Inn here in the Town.

_Con._ What Sign has it?

_Pars._ Upon a Board that hangs up, you will see a Dog thrusting his

Head into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; and

a Wolf sits at the Bar.

_Con._ That's an unlucky Sign.

_Pars._ You may e'en make your best on't.

_Ber._ What Sort of a Pastor is this? we might be starv'd for him.

_Con._ If he feeds his Sheep no better than he feeds us, they must needs

be very lean.

_Ber._ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall we

do?

_Con._ We must set a good Face on't.

_Ber._ There's little to be gotten by Modesty, in a Case of Necessity.

_Con._ Very right, St. _Francis_ will be with us.

_Ber._ Let's try our Fortune then.

_Con._ We won't stay for our Host's Answer at the Door, but we'll rush

directly into the Stove, and we won't easily be gotten out again.

_Ber._ O impudent Trick!

_Con._ This is better than to lie abroad all Night, and be frozen to

Death. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and take

it out again to-Morrow.

_Ber._ Indeed, the Matter requires it.

_Innk._ What Sort of Animals do I see here?

_Con._ We are the Servants of God, and the Sons of St. _Francis_, good

Man.

_Innk._ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but I

would not have many of them in my House.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but you

have neither Hands nor Feet to work. Ha, ha! You Sons of St. _Francis_,

you use to tell us in the Pulpit, that he was a pure Batchelor, and has

he got so many Sons?

_Con._ We are the Children of the Spirit, not of the Flesh.

_Innk._ A very unhappy Father, for your Mind is the worst Part about

you; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it is

better with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives and

Daughters.

_Con._ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degenerate

from the Institutions of our Founder; we are strict Observers of them.

_Innk._ And I'll observe you too, that you don't do me any Damage, for I

have a mortal Aversion for this Sort of Cattle.

_Con._ Why so, I pray?

_Innk._ Because you carry Teeth in your Head, but no Money in your

Pocket; and such Sort of Guests are very unwelcome to me.

_Con._ But we take Pains for you.

_Innk._ Shall I shew you after what Manner you labour for me?

_Con._ Do, shew us.

_Innk._ Look upon that Picture there, just by you, on your left Hand,

there you'll see a Wolf a Preaching, and behind him a Goose, thrusting

her Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one at

Confession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. There

you see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in one

Hand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse.

_Con._ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathed

with this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses,

Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garment

covers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makes

no Body worse. It is unjust to judge of a Man by his Cloaths; for if so,

the Garment that you wear sometimes were to be accounted detestable,

because it covers many Thieves, Murderers, Conjurers, and Whoremasters.

_Innk._ Well, I'll dispense with your Habit, if you'll but pay your

Reckonings.

_Con._ We'll pray to God for you.

_Innk._ And I'll pray to God for you, and there's one for t'other.

_Con._ But there are some Persons that you must not take Money of.

_Innk._ How comes it that you make a Conscience of touching any?

_Con._ Because it does not consist with our Profession.

_Innk._ Nor does it stand with my Profession to entertain Guests for

nothing.

_Con._ But we are tied up by a Rule not to touch Money.

_Innk._ And my Rule commands me quite the contrary.

_Con._ What Rule is yours?

_Innk._ Read those Verses:

_Guests at this Table, when you've eat while you're able.

Rise not hence before you have first paid your Score._

_Con._ We'll be no Charge to you.

_Innk._ But they that are no Charge to me are no Profit to me neither.

_Con._ If you do us any good Office here, God will make it up to you

sufficiently.

_Innk._ But these Words won't keep my Family.

_Con._ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't be

troublesome to any Body.

_Innk._ My Stove won't hold such Company.

_Con._ What, will you thrust us out of Doors then? It may be we shall be

devour'd by Wolves to Night.

_Innk._ Neither Wolves nor Dogs will prey upon their own Kind.

_Con._ If you do so you will be more cruel than the _Turks_. Let us be

what we will, we are Men.

_Innk._ I have lost my Hearing.

_Con._ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the

Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if

the Wolves should not devour us?

_Innk._ _Adam_ liv'd so in Paradise.

_Con._ He did so, but then he was innocent.

_Innk._ And so am I innocent.

_Con._ Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you

thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into

his.

_Innk._ Good Words, I beseech you.

_Wife._ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by

this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good

Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't.

_Innk._ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the

Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman;

Good Men!

_Wife._ Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often

you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At

least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't

thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when

you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and

Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors?

_Innk._ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind

your Kitchen.

_Wife._ Well, so I will.

_Bert._ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope all

will be well by and by.

_Con._ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that no

Guests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had.

_Bert._ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine from

the last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for what

I see here, he would not have given us so much as a Mouthful of Hay.

_Con._ Now the Servants are set down, let's take Part of the Table with

them, but so that we don't incommode any Body.

_Innk._ I believe I may put it to your Score, that I have not a Guest to

Day, nor any besides my own Family, and you good-for-nothing ones.

_Con._ Well, put it up to our Score, if it has not happened to you

often.

_Innk._ Oftner than I would have it so.

_Con._ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake his

Servants.

_Innk._ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospel

forbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have great

Sleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, and

Flesh also, and that of the best Sort.

_Con._ Take Part with us, if you please.

_Innk._ My Wine is Hog-Wash to it.

_Con._ Eat some of the Flesh, there is more than enough for us.

_Innk._ O happy Beggars! My Wife has dress'd nothing to Day, but

Coleworts and a little rusty Bacon.

_Con._ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us what

we eat.

_Innk._ Then why don't you carry with you Coleworts and dead Wine?

_Con._ Because the People where we din'd to Day would needs force this

upon us.

_Innk._ Did your Dinner cost you nothing?

_Con._ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us these

Things to carry along with us.

_Innk._ From whence did you come?

_Con._ From _Basil._

_Innk._ Whoo! what so far?

_Con._ Yes.

_Innk._ What Sort of Fellows are you that ramble about thus without

Horses, Money, Servants, Arms, or Provisions?

_Con._ You see in us some Footsteps of the evangelical Life.

_Innk._ It seems to me to be the Life of Vagabonds, that stroll about

with Budgets.

_Con._ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesus

himself.

_Innk._ Can you tell Fortunes?

_Con._ Nothing less.

_Innk._ How do you live then?

_Con._ By him, who hath promised.

_Innk._ Who is he?

_Con._ He that said, _Take no Care, but all Things shall be added unto

you_.

_Innk._ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom of

God._

_Con._ That we do with all our Might.

_Innk._ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, so

that it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no such

Thing.

_Con._ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matter

requir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for the

Conviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but a

religious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick than

to be well, and more happy to die than to live.

_Innk._ What do you do then?

_Con._ That we can; every Man according to the Talent that God has given

him. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunity

offers, sometimes we preach, if we any where find Pastors that are dumb:

And if we find no Opportunity of doing Good, we take Care to do no Body

any Harm, either by our Manners or our Words.

_Innk._ I wish you would preach for us to Morrow, for it is a Holy-Day.

_Con._ For what Saint?

_Innk._ To St. _Antony._

_Con._ He was indeed a good Man. But how came he to have a Holiday?

_Innk._ I'll tell you. This Town abounds with Swine-Herds, by Reason of

a large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People have

an Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and therefore

they worship him, for Fear he should grow angry, if they neglect him.

_Con._ I wish they would worship him as they ought to do.

_Innk._ How's that?

_Con._ Whosoever imitates the Saints in their Lives, worships as he

ought to do.

_Innk._ To-morrow the Town will ring again with Drinking and Dancing,

Playing, Scolding and Boxing.

_Con._ After this Manner the Heathens once worshipped their _Bacchus_.

But I wonder, if this is their Way of worshipping, that St. _Antony_ is

not enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogs

themselves. What Sort of a Pastor have you? A dumb one, or a wicked one?

_Innk._ What he is to other People, I don't know: But he's a very good

one to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings more

Customers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not here

now.

_Con._ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for our

Turn.

_Innk._ What! Did you go to him then?

_Con._ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us away

from the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither.

_Innk._ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come because

he knew you were to be here.

_Con._ Is he a dumb one?

_Innk._ A dumb one! There's no Body is more noisy in the Stove, and he

makes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Need

of more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that he

is none of the dumb Ones.

_Con._ Is he a learned Divine?

_Innk._ He says he is a very great Scholar; but what he knows is what

he has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful to

let others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you in

short; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears its

own Cover_.

_Con._ It may be he will not give a Man Liberty to preach in his Place.

_Innk._ Yes, I'll undertake he will, but upon this Condition, that you

don't have any Flirts at him, as it is a common Practice for you to do.

_Con._ They have us'd themselves to an ill Custom that do so. If a

Pastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is the

Bishop's Business.

_Innk._ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Men

yourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? For

a great many People take you to be ill Men by your Dress.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ I can't tell, except it be that they find a great many of you to

be so.

_Con._ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear this

Habit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to be

good Men by our Habit, than they that take us for base Men.

_Innk._ Well, so let it be. But what is the Advantage of so many

different Dresses?

_Con._ What is your Opinion?

_Innk._ Why I see no Advantage at all, except in Processions, or War.

For in Processions there are carried about various Representations of

Saints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by the

different Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that every

one may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that there

may be no Confusion in the Army.

_Con._ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us follows

one Leader, and another another; but we all fight under one General,

Christ. But in a Garment there are three Things to be consider'd.

_Innk._ What are they?

_Con._ Necessity, Use, and Decency. Why do we eat?

_Innk._ That we mayn't be starv'd with Hunger.

_Con._ And for the very same Reason we take a Garment that we mayn't be

starv'd with Cold.

_Innk._ I confess it.

_Con._ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers the

Head, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Use

requires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a long

one for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one in

Winter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Times

a Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon they

take a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; but

every one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment of

ours is contriv'd so, that this one will serve for various Uses.

_Innk._ How is that?

_Con._ If the North Wind blow, or the Sun shines hot, we put on our

Cowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are to

sit still, we let down our Garment about our Heels, if we are to walk,

we hold or tuck it up.

_Innk._ He was no Fool, whosoever he was, that contriv'd it.

_Con._ And it is the chief Thing in living happily, for a Man to

accustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we begin

to indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be no

End; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer so

many Purposes.

_Innk._ I allow that.

_Con._ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, if

you should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that you

acted indecently?

_Innk._ They would say I was mad.

_Con._ And what would you say, if she should put on your Cloaths?

_Innk._ I should not say much perhaps, but I should cudgel her

handsomly.

_Con._ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any one

wears?

_Innk._ O yes, in this Case it is very material.

_Con._ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict a

Punishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of a

different Sex.

_Innk._ And they are in the Right for it.

_Con._ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dress

himself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like an

old Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if an

old Woman should attire herself like a young Girl, and the contrary?

_Innk._ No doubt.

_Con._ In like Manner, if a Lay-Man should wear a Priest's Habit, and a

Priest a Lay-Man's.

_Innk._ They would both act unbecomingly.

_Con._ What if a private Man should put on the Habit of a Prince, or an

inferior Clergy-Man that of a Bishop? Would he act unhandsomely or no?

_Innk._ Certainly he would.

_Con._ What if a Citizen should dress himself like a Soldier, with a

Feather in his Cap, and other Accoutrements of a hectoring Soldier?

_Innk._ He would be laugh'd at.

_Con._ What if any _English_ Ensign should carry a white Cross in his

Colours, a _Swiss_ a red one, a _French_ Man a black one?

_Innk._ He would act impudently.

_Con._ Why then do you wonder so much at our Habit?

_Innk._ I know the Difference between a private Man and a Prince,

between a Man and a Woman; but I don't understand the Difference between

a Monk and no Monk.

_Con._ What Difference is there between a poor Man and a rich Man?

_Innk._ Fortune.

_Con._ And yet it would be unbecoming a poor Man to imitate a rich Man

in his Dress.

_Innk._ Very true, as rich Men go now a-Days.

_Con._ What Difference is there between a Fool and a wise Man?

_Innk._ Something more than there is between a rich Man and a poor Man.

_Con._ Are not Fools dress'd up in a different Manner from wise Men?

_Innk._ I can't tell how well it becomes you, but your Habit does not

differ much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells.

_Con._ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, if

we really are what we pretend to be.

_Innk._ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are a

great many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than those

that wear Caps lin'd with Furs, Hoods, and other Ensigns of wise Men;

therefore it seems a ridiculous Thing to me to make a Shew of Wisdom by

the Dress rather than in Fact. I saw a certain Man, more than a Fool,

with a Gown hanging down to his Heels, a Cap like our Doctors, and had

the Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew of

Gravity, and he was as much made on by great Men, as any of their Fools,

and was more a Fool than any of them.

_Con._ Well, what would you infer from that? That a Prince who laughs at

his Jester should change Coats with him?

_Innk._ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Proposition

be true, that the Mind of a Man is represented by his Habit.

_Con._ You press this upon me indeed, but I am still of the Opinion,

that there is good Reason for giving Fools distinct Habits.

_Innk._ What Reason?

_Con._ That no Body might hurt them, if they say or do any Thing that's

foolish.

_Innk._ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does rather

provoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Fools

they become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores a

Man, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and a

Fool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under the

Protection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you are

distinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause is

sufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear a

different Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, an

Apothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if you

are Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? If

you are Laymen, why do you differ from us?

_Con._ In antient Times, Monks were only the purer Sort of the Laity,

and there was then only the same Difference between a Monk and a Layman,

as between a frugal, honest Man, that maintains his Family by his

Industry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwards

the Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gave

some Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, or

sacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not been

ashamed to wear it.

_Innk._ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that?

_Con._ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimes

from Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think it

ridiculous for a Man to wear a Bull's Hide, with the Horns on his Head,

and the Tail trailing after him on the Ground?

_Innk._ That would be ridiculous enough.

_Con._ Again, if any one should wear a Garment that should hide his

Face, and his Hands, and shew his privy Members?

_Innk._ That would be more ridiculous than the other.

_Con._ The very Pagan Writers have taken Notice of them that have wore

Cloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wear

such. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, than

to wear a transparent Garment.

_Innk._ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends upon

Custom and the Opinion of People.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at my

House, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries lately

discovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they came

to an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as the

greatest Indecency in the World, to cover their Bodies.

_Con._ It may be they liv'd like Beasts.

_Innk._ Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd

under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not

above an Hour in a Day.

_Con._ What Work did they do?

_Innk._ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead

of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when

this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind

to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish

Vices, but none more severely than Adultery.

_Con._ What's the Punishment?

_Innk._ They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But for

Men that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all his

Life after, he should appear in publick with his privy Parts covered.

_Con._ A mighty Punishment indeed!

_Innk._ Custom has made it to them the very greatest Punishment that is.

_Con._ When I consider the Force of Persuasion, I am almost ready to

allow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to the

greatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off a

Piece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf's

Skin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair of

Stockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of a

Net, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side of

his Beard, and leave the other hanging down, and curl one Part of it,

and to put him a Cap on his Head, cut and slash'd, with a huge Plume of

Feathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him more

ridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? And

yet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are well

enough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like the

Dress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous.

_Innk._ Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much as

they can possibly.

_Con._ But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers like

an _Indian_, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a mad

Man?

_Innk._ Stark mad.

_Con._ And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madness

still: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom will

bear it out; so it cannot be denied, but that there is a certain

_Decorum_ in Garments, which all wise Men always account a _Decorum_;

and that there is also an Unbecomingness in Garments, which will to wise

Men always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Woman

dragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to be

measured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are not

asham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thing

is Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has once

obtain'd.

_Innk._ Well, we have had Talk enough about Custom: But tell me now,

whether you think it better for Monks to differ from others in Habit, or

not to differ?

_Con._ I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not to

judge of any Man by his Habit, if it be but sober and decent.

_Innk._ Why don't you cast away your Cowls then?

_Con._ Why did not the Apostles presently eat of all Sorts of Meat?

_Innk._ I can't tell. Do you tell me that.

_Con._ Because an invincible Custom hinder'd it: For whatsoever is

deeply rooted in the Minds of Men, and has been confirm'd by long Use,

and is turn'd as it were into Nature, can never be remov'd on a sudden,

without endangering the publick Peace; but must be remov'd by Degrees,

as a Horse's Tail is pluck'd off by single Hairs.

_Innk._ I could bear well enough with it, if the Monks had all but one

Habit: But who can bear so many different Habits?

_Con._ Custom has brought in this Evil, which brings in every Thing.

_Benedict_ did not invent a new Habit, but the same that he wore himself

and his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman:

Neither did _Francis_ invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poor

Country-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it into

Superstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to the

Dress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now in

Fashion, than my Dress is from yours?

_Innk._ We do see it.

_Con._ Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques of

antient Times.

_Innk._ Why then, has your Garment no Holiness in it?

_Con._ None at all.

_Innk._ There are some of you that make their Boasts that these Dresses

were divinely directed by the holy Virgin Mother.

_Con._ These Stories are but meer Dreams.

_Innk._ Some despair of being able to recover from a Fit of Sickness,

unless they be wrapp'd up in a Dominican's Habit: Nay, nor won't be

buried but in a Franciscan's Habit.

_Con._ They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats or

Fools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know a

wicked Man as well in a Franciscan's Habit, as in a Soldier's Coat.

_Innk._ There is not so much Variety in the Feathers of Birds of the

Air, as there is in your Habits.

_Con._ What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But it

is a better Thing to out-do it.

_Innk._ I wish you would out-do it in the Variety of your Beaks too.

_Con._ But, come on. I will be an Advocate for Variety, if you will give

me Leave. Is not a _Spaniard_ dressed after one Fashion, an _Italian_

after another, a _Frenchman_ after another, a _German_ after another, a

_Greek_ after another, a _Turk_ after another, and a _Sarazen_ after

another?

_Innk._ Yes.

_Con._ And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is there

in Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dress

of the _Venetian_ from the _Florentine_, and of both from the _Roman_,

and this only within _Italy_ alone?

_Innk._ I believe it.

_Con._ And from hence also came our Variety. _Dominic_ he took his Dress

from the honest Ploughmen in that Part of _Spain_ in which he liv'd; and

_Benedict_ from the Country-Fellows of that Part of _Italy_ in which he

liv'd; and _Francis_ from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and so

for the rest.

_Innk._ So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless you

live holier.

_Con._ Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we are

a greater Stumbling to the Simple.

_Innk._ Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, nor

Habit, nor Rule, nor Profession?

_Con._ Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfathers

what you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you want

a human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do you

want a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Consider

what you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and you

will find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professed

the Rule of _Francis_.

_Innk._ Do you believe that any Inn-Keepers go to Heaven?

_Con._ Why not?

_Innk._ There are a great many Things said and done in this House, that

are not according to the Gospel.

_Con._ What are they?

_Innk._ One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and another

slanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselves

honest or not.

_Con._ You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if you

cannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or draw

on these Wickednesses.

_Innk._ Sometimes I don't deal very honestly as to my Wine.

_Con._ Wherein?

_Innk._ When I find my Guests grow a little too hot, I put more Water

into the Wine.

_Con._ That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up with

unwholsome Ingredients.

_Innk._ But tell me truly, how many Days have you been in this Journey?

_Con._ Almost a Month.

_Innk._ Who takes Care of you all the While?

_Con._ Are not they taken Care enough of, that have a Wife, and

Children, and Parents, and Kindred?

_Innk._ Oftentimes.

_Con._ You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but one

Father, we have an hundred; you have but one House, we have an hundred;

you have but a few Children, we have an innumerable Company; you have

but a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number.

_Innk._ How so?

_Con._ Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than the

Kindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience the

Truth of what he has promised.

_Innk._ In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if I

don't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do us

the Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen to

come this Way again, know that here's a Lodging for you.

_Con._ But what if others should come?

_Innk._ They shall be welcome, if they be but such as you.

_Con._ I hope they will be better.

_Innk._ But among so many bad ones, how shall I know which are good?

_Con._ I'll tell you in a few Words, but in your Ear.

_Innk._ Tell me.

_Con._---------

_Innk._ I'll remember it, and do it.

_The ABBOT and LEARNED WOMAN._

The ARGUMENT.

_A certain Abbot paying a Visit to a Lady, finds her

reading_ Greek _and_ Latin _Authors. A Dispute arises,

whence Pleasantness of Life proceeds:_ viz. _Not from

external Enjoyments, but from the Study of Wisdom. An

ignorant Abbot will by no Means have his Monks to be

learned; nor has he himself so much as a single Book in

his Closet. Pious Women in old Times gave their Minds to

the Study of the Scriptures; but Monks that hate

Learning, and give themselves up to Luxury, Idleness, and

Hunting, are provok'd to apply themselves to other Kinds

of Studies, more becoming their Profession._