_Al._ Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here?
_Ba._ Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which
is to be seen.
_Al._ Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight.
_Ba._ Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it.
_Al._ Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill.
_Ba._ I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else.
_Al._ No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there?
_Ba._ What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a
bit of a Maid any where.
_Al._ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How
neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight.
_Ba._ What! Are you possess'd?
_Al._ Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three
Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em
more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of
'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of
Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How
becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing
and trailing after 'em.
_Ba._ I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days,
than you do.
_Al._ You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time.
_Ba._ Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't?
_Al._ Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body
can see 'em but they that have.
_Ba._ I have drank plentifully out of _Scotus's_ Fountain.
_Al._ But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs.
_Ba._ But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as
you?
_Al._ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear
Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable
of such Sights as these.
_Ba._ Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too.
_Al._ Is there? That's clever, I vow.
_Ba._ But prithee, sprinkle me with it.
_Al._ Now look, do you see now?
_Ba._ As much as I did before. Sprinkle me again.
_Al._ Well, now do you see?
_Ba._ Just as much; sprinkle me plentifully.
_Al._ I believe you can't but see now.
_Ba._ Now I can scarce see you.
_Al._ Ah poor Man, how total a Darkness has seized your Eyes! This Art
would open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plague
yourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest you
should come off as ill by seeing the Muses, as _Actæon_ did by seeing
_Diana_: For you'd perhaps be in Danger of being turn'd either into a
Hedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. But
however, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make a
Noise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, most
welcome Goddesses.
_Mu._ And you heartily, Lover of the Muses.
_Al._ What makes you pull me so?
_Ba._ You an't as good as your Word.
_Al._ Why don't you hear 'em?
_Ba._ I hear somewhat, but I don't know what it is.
_Al._ Well, I'll speak _Latin_ to 'em then. Whither are you going so
fine and so brisk? Are you going to _Louvain_ to see the University?
_Mu._ No, we assure you, we won't go thither.
_Al._ Why not?
_Mu._ What Place is for us, where so many Hogs are grunting, Camels and
Asses braying, Jackdaws cawing, and Magpies chattering?
_Al._ But for all that, there are some there that are your Admirers.
_Mu._ We know that, and therefore we'll go thither a few Years hence.
The successive Period of Ages has not yet brought on that Time; for
there will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or a
Temple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred any
where else.
_Al._ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour to
our Country?
_Mu._ You may know it, that are one of our Priests. There's no doubt,
but you have heard the Name of the _Buslidians_, famous all the World
over.
_Al._ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palaces
of the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere the
great _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, who
has approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Son
of _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be a
greater Man than his Father?
_Mu._ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth the
Happiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberal
Studies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left two
brothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_.
_Al._ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'd
with all Manner of Literature, and adorn'd with every Kind of Virtue.
_Mu._ But the Destinies won't suffer him to be long-liv'd neither,
though no Man in the World better deserves to be immortaliz'd.
_Al._ How do you know that?
_Mu._ We had it from _Apollo_.
_Al._ How envious are the Destinies, to take from us all desirable
Things so hastily!
_Mu._ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dying
with great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of a
College at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teach
publickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring a
great Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'll
reside at _Louvain_, with all our Hearts.
_Al._ But whither are you going now?
_Mu._ To _Antwerp_.
_Al._ What, the Muses and Graces going to a Fair?
_Mu._ No, we assure you, we are not going to a Fair; but to a Wedding.
_Al._ What have Virgins to do at Weddings?
_Mu._ 'Tis no indecent Thing at all, for Virgins to be at such a Wedding
as this is.
_Al._ Pray what Sort of a Marriage is it?
_Mu._ A holy, undefiled, and chaste Marriage, such a one as _Pallas_
herself need not be asham'd to be at: Nay, more than that, we believe
she will be at it.
_Al._ Mayn't a Body know the Bride and Bridegroom's Name?
_Mu._ We believe you must needs know that most courteous and
accomplish'd Youth in all Kinds of polite Learning, _Peter Ægidius_.
_Al._ You have named an Angel, not a Man.
_Mu._ The pretty Maid _Cornelia_, a fit Match for _Apollo_ himself, is
going to be married to _Ægidius_.
_Al._ Indeed he has been a great Admirer of you, even from his Infancy.
_Mu._ We are going to sing him an Epithalamium.
_Al._ What, and will the Graces dance too?
_Mu._ They will not only dance, but they will also unite those two true
Lovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that no
Difference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall never
hear any Thing from him, but my Life; nor he from her, but my Soul: Nay:
and even old Age itself, shall be so far from diminishing that, that it
shall increase the Pleasure.
_Al._ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could ever
be able to grow old.
_Mu._ You say very right, for it is rather a Maturity, than an old Age.
_Al._ But I have known a great many, to whom these kind Words have been
chang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; and
instead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flown
about. The Husband, instead of my dear Soul, has been call'd Blockhead,
Toss-Pot, Swill-Tub; and the Wife, Sow, Fool, dirty Drab.
_Mu._ You say very true; but these Marriages were made when the Graces
were out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper will
always maintain a mutual Affection.
_Al._ Indeed you speak of such a happy Marriage as is very seldom seen.
_Mu._ An uncommon Felicity is due to such uncommon Virtues.
_Al._ But what! Will the Matrimony be without _Juno_ and _Venus_?
_Mu._ Indeed _Juno_ won't be there, she's a scolding Goddess, and is but
seldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthly
drunken _Venus_; but another heavenly one, which makes a Union of Minds.
_Al._ Then the Marriage you speak of, is like to be a barren one.
_Mu._ No, by no Means, but rather like to be the most happily fruitful.
_Al._ What, does that heavenly _Venus_ produce any Thing but Souls then?
_Mu._ Yes, she gives Bodies to the Souls; but such Bodies, as shall be
exactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choice
Ointment into a curious Box of Pearl.
_Al._ Where is she then?
_Mu._ Look, she is coming towards you, a pretty Way off.
_Al._ Oh! I see her now. O good God, how bright she is! How majestical
and beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is a
homely one.
_Mu._ Do you see what modest _Cupids_ there are; they are no blind ones,
such as that _Venus_ has, that makes Mankind mad? But these are sharp
little Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentle
Fires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate the
Lover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocal
Affection.
_Al._ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's a
blessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hear
the Marriage-Song that you design to present 'em with?
_Mu._ Nay, we were just a-going to ask you to hear it.
CLIO.
Peter _hath married fair_ Cornelia, _Propitious Heaven! bless
the Wedding-Day._
MELPOMENE.
_Concord of_ Turtle-Doves _between them be, And of the_
Jack-daw _the Vivacity_.
THALIA.
_From_ Gracchus _may he win the Prize, And for_ Cornelia's
_Life, his own despise._
EUTERPE.
_May she in Love exceed_ Admetus' _Wife, Who laid her own
down, for her Husband's Life._
TERPSICHORE.
_May he love her with stronger Flame, But much more
happy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'd
Mate._
ERATO.
_May she love him with no less Flame, But with much better
Fate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate._
CALLIOPE.
_For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to the
famous_ Nasica.
URANIA.
_The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be._
POLYHYMNIA.
_May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equal
their Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on them
wait._
_Al._ I should very much envy _Peter Ægidius_ so much Happiness, but
that he is a Man of such Candour, that he himself envies no Body.
_Mu._ It is now high Time for us to prosecute our Journey.
_Al._ Have you any Service to command me at _Louvain_?
_Mu._ That thou wouldst recommend us to all our sincere loving Friends;
but especially to our antient Admirers. _John Paludus, Jodocus Gaverius,
Martin Dorpius_, and _John Borsalus._
_Al._ Well, I'll be sure to take Care to do your Message. What shall I
say to the rest?
_Mu._ I'll tell you in your Ear.
_Al._ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainly
be done out of Hand.
_The EXORCISM or APPARITION._
The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy detects the Artifices of Impostors, who
impose upon the credulous and simple, framing Stories of
Apparitions of Daemons and Ghosts, and divine Voices._
Polus _is the Author of a Rumour, that an Apparition of a
certain Soul was heard in his Grounds, howling after a
lamentable Manner: At another Place he pretends to see a
Dragon in the Air, in the middle of the Day, and
persuades other Persons that they saw it too; and he
prevails upon_ Faunus, _a Parish-Priest of a neighbouring
Town, to make Trial of the Truth of the Matters, who
consents to do it, and prepares Exorcisms._ Polus _gets
upon a black Horse, throws Fire about, and with divers
Tricks deceives credulous_ Faunus, _and other Men of none
of the deepest Penetration._
THOMAS _and_ ANSELM.
_Tho._ What good News have you had, that you laugh to yourself thus, as
if you had found a Treasure?
_Ans._ Nay, you are not far from the Matter.
_Tho._ But won't you impart it to your Companion, what good Thing soever
it is?
_Ans._ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebody
to communicate my Merriment to.
_Tho._ Come on then, let's have it.
_Ans._ I was just now told the pleasantest Story, which you'd swear was
a Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, as
well as you know me.
_Tho._ I'm with Child to hear it.
_Ans._ Do you know _Polus, Faunus_'s Son-in-Law?
_Tho._ Perfectly well.
_Ans._ He's both the Contriver and Actor of this Play.
_Tho._ I am apt enough to believe that; for he can Act any Part to the
Life.
_Ans._ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not far
from _London_.
_Tho._ Phoo, very well; he and I have drank together many a Time there.
_Ans._ Then you know there is a Way between two straight Rows of Trees.
_Tho._ Upon the left Hand, about two Flight Shot from the House?
_Ans._ You have it. On one Side of the Way there is a dry Ditch,
overgrown with Thorns and Brambles; and then there's a Way that leads
into an open Field from a little Bridge.
_Tho._ I remember it.
_Ans._ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, of
a Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that were
every now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul of
somebody that was miserably tormented.
_Tho._ Who was it that raised this Report?
_Ans._ Who but _Polus_, that made this the Prologue to his Comedy.
_Tho._ What did he mean by inventing such a Flam?
_Ans._ I know nothing; but that it is the Humour of the Man, he takes
Delight to make himself Sport, by playing upon the Simplicity of People,
by such Fictions as these. I'll tell you what he did lately of the same
Kind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of the
Company were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was a
wonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there.
_Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breast
with the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to an
Air of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! They
that rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell again
to signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, says
he, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring to
know what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointing
with his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, that
monstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in a
Circle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, every
now and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he might
not seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation of
him, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they could
not see what was so plain to be seen: And in short, in three Days Time,
the Rumour of this portentous Apparition had spread all over _England_.
And it is wonderful to think how popular Fame had amplified the Story,
and some pretended seriously to expound to what this Portent did
predict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mighty
Pleasure in the Folly of these People.
_Tho._ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of the
Apparition.
_Ans._ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in
_Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they add
the same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, this
Man thought himself wiser than is common, especially in holy Matters)
came very opportunely to pay a Visit to _Polus_.
_Tho._ I understand the Matter: There is one found out to be an Actor in
this Play.
_Ans._ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of this
Apparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heard
of the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as he
was a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poor
Soul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in any
Doubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walk
near that Bridge about ten a-Clock, and you shall hear miserable Cries;
take who you will for a Companion along with you, and so you will hear
both more safely and better.
_Tho._ Well, what then?
_Ans._ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Hunting
or Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away all
Opportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walks
about, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himself
in a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, by
speaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow of
it, gave it a most mournful Sound.
_Tho._ This Story, as far as I see, out-does _Menander's Phasma_.
_Ans._ You'll say more, if you shall hear it out. _Faunus_ goes Home,
being impatient to tell what he had heard. _Polus_ taking a shorter Way,
had got Home before him. _Faunus_ up and tells _Polus_ all that past,
and added something of his own to it, to make the Matter more wonderful.
_Tho._ Could _Polus_ keep his Countenance in the mean Time?
_Ans._ He keep his Countenance! He has his Countenance in his Hand, you
would have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End
_Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes the
Business of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, in
contriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, for
he was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the most
powerful Exorcisms that he could get, and added some new ones to them,
as the Bowels of the Virgin _Mary_, and the Bones of St. _Winifred_.
After that, he makes Choice of a Place in the plain Field, near the
Bramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very large
Circle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. And
all this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there a
great Vessel full of holy Water, and about his Neck he had a holy Stole
(as they call'd it) upon which hung the Beginning of the Gospel of
_John_. He had in his Pocket a little Piece of Wax, which the Bishop of
_Rome_ used to consecrate once a Year, which is commonly call'd _Agnus
Dei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselves
against evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to be
so formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be an
evil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for all
this, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined to
take some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid,
that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, the
whole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priest
there-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; and
indeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was a
Man fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being prepared
and in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priest
enter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made a
miserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and
_Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings from
thence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a great
many of them.
_Tho._ Well, what do they do?
_Ans._ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Fire
along with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew the
Fire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle.
_Tho._ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat upon
People?
_Ans._ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have been
mischievous to them.
_Tho._ How so?
_Ans._ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of the
Fire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End of
the first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered into
Discourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter,
enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-dæmons
appear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, and
breathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break into
the Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by the
Power and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into
_Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with great
Solemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with the
Vehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at a
pretty Distance, with their black Horses, with a most outragious Noise,
making a Feint, as if they would break into the Circle.
_Tho._ Had they no Fire then?
_Ans._ No, none at all; for that had lik'd to have fallen out very
unluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope over
the Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though they
were beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both the
Priest and holy Water-Pot all together.
_Tho._ This Reward the Parish-Priest had for playing his Part?
_Ans._ Yes, he had; and for all that, he had rather suffer this than
quit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over the
Matter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what great
Danger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evil
Spirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firm
Persuasion, that there was no Dæmon, let him be ever so mischievous or
impudent, that could possibly break into this Circle.
_Tho._ This _Faunus_ was not far from being a Fool.
_Ans._ You have heard nothing yet. The Comedy being thus far advanc'd,
_Polus_'s Son-in-Law comes in very good Time, for he had married
_Polus's_ eldest Daughter; he's a wonderful merry Droll, you know.
_Tho._ Know him! Ay, I know him, that he has no Aversion for such Tricks
as these.
_Ans._ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgent
Affair in the World, if such a Comedy were either to be seen or acted.
His Father-in-Law tells him the whole Story, and gives him his Part,
that was, to act the Ghost. He puts on a Dress, and wraps himself up in
a Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through his
Shrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Place
where this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_
lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way off
in the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a rueful
Groaning. While _Faunus_ was adjuring the Ghost to declare who he was,
_Polus_ of a sudden leaps out of the Thicket, dress'd like a Devil, and
making a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, it
is mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, as
if he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if he
was beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holy
Water, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when this
guardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with the
Soul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that he
was the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered
_Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then they
being Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ might
deliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a long
Discourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it was
not permitted to stay to talk any longer, because its Time was come,
that it must go whither its Devil pleased to carry it; but yet promised
to come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. They
meet together again at _Polus's_ House, who was the Master of the Show.
There the Exorcist relates what was done, and tho' he added some Lies to
the Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartily
affected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, that
it was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Torments
of an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. There
happened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism.
_Tho._ Prithee what was that?
_Ans._ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted the
Devil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do,
break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with his
Exorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last cries
out, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with a
Wench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, it
seemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched with
this Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, and
whispered something in the Priest's Ear. _Polus_ seeing that, retires,
that he might not hear what it was not fit for him to hear.
_Tho._ In Truth, _Polus_ was a very modest, religious Devil.
_Ans._ He was so, otherwise he might have been blamed for not observing
a _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing him
Satisfaction.
_Tho._ What was that?
_Ans._ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, by
which he conjectured he had had to do with her three Times that Night.
_Tho._ He was an irregular _Regular_.
_Ans._ They are but Men, and this is but human Frailty.
_Tho._ Well, proceed: what was done after this?
_Ans._ Now _Faunus_ more couragiously advances to the very Edge of the
Circle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil's
Heart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if I
had been wise I had not given you that Caution: Many are of Opinion,
that what you have once confess'd is immediately struck out of the
Devil's Memory, that he can never be able to twit you in the Teeth for
it.
_Tho._ What a ridiculous Conceit do you tell me of?
_Ans._ But to draw towards a Conclusion of the Matter: This Dialogue
with the Ghost held for some Days; at last it came to this Issue: The
Exorcist asking the Soul, If there was any Way by which it might
possibly be delivered from its Torments, it answered, it might, if the
Money that it had left behind, being gotten by Cheating, should be
restored. Then, says _Faunus_, What if it were put into the Hands of
good People, to be disposed of to pious Uses? The Spirit reply'd, That
might do. The Exorcist was rejoic'd at this; he enquires particularly,
What Sum there was of it? The Spirit reply'd, That it was a vast Sum,
and might prove very good and commodious: it told the Place too where
the Treasure was hid, but it was a long Way off: And it order'd what
Uses it should be put to.
_Tho._ What were they?
_Ans._ That three Persons were to undertake a Pilgrimage; one to the
Threshold of St. _Peter_; another to salute St. _James_ at
_Compostella;_ and the third should kiss _Jesus'_s Comb at _Tryers_; and
after that, a vast Number of Services and Masses should be performed in
several great Monasteries; and as to the Overplus, he should dispose of
it as he pleas'd. Now _Faunus'_s Mind was fixed upon the Treasure; he
had, in a Manner, swallowed it in his Mind.
_Tho._ That's a common Disease; but more peculiarly thrown in the
Priests Dish, upon all Occasions.
_Ans._ After nothing had been omitted that related to the Affair of the
Money, the Exorcist being put upon it by _Polus_, began to put Questions
to the Spirit, about several Arts, as Alchymy and Magick. To these
Things the Spirit gave Answers, putting off the Resolution of these
Questions for the present, promising it would make larger Discoveries as
soon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches of
its Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be the
third Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in good
Earnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in all
Companies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things to
Monasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to the
Place, and finds the Tokens, but did not dare to dig for the Treasure,
because the Spirit had thrown this Caution in the Way, that it would be
extremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had been
performed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt out
the Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiming
his Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, and
especially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of a
prudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quite
contrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd his
Mind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, to
make him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres and
Devils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was so
pale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Sprite
than a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and would
have been so, had it not been timely prevented.
_Tho._ Well, let this be the last Act of the Play.
_Ans._ Well, you shall have it. _Polus_ and his Son-in-Law, hammer'd out
this Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in a
strange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such as
Gold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Form
of the Epistle was this:
Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his gracious
Deliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _that
thou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God has
respected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, has
delivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels.
Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next to
the Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give thee
publick Thanks. In the mean Time, see that thou live merrily._
_From the_ Imperial Heaven, _the
Ides of_ September, _Anno_ 1498.
_Under the Seal of my own Ring._
This Epistle was laid privately under the Altar where _Faunus_ was to
perform divine Service: This being done, there was one appointed to
advertise him of it, as if he had found it by Chance. And now he carries
the Letter about him, and shews it as a very sacred Thing; and believes
nothing more firmly, than that it was brought from Heaven by an Angel.
_Tho._ This is not delivering the Man from his Madness, but changing the
Sort of it.
_Ans._ Why truly, so it is, only he is now more pleasantly mad than
before.
_Tho._ I never was wont to give much Credit to Stories of Apparitions in
common; but for the Time to come, I shall give much less: For I believe
that many Things that have been printed and published, as true
Relations, were only by Artifice and Imposture, Impositions upon
credulous Persons, and such as _Faunus._
_Ans._ And I also believe that a great many of them are of the same
Kind.
_The ALCHYMIST._
The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy shews the Dotage of an old Man, otherwise
a very prudent Person, upon this Art; being trick'd by a
Priest, under Pretence of a two-Fold Method in this Art,
the_ long Way _and the_ short Way. _By the long Way he
puts an egregious Cheat upon old_ Balbinus: _The
Alchymist lays the Fault upon his Coals and Glasses.
Presents of Gold are sent to the Virgin_ Mary, _that she
would assist them in their Undertakings. Some Courtiers
having come to the Knowledge that_ Balbinus _practis'd
this unlawful Art, are brib'd. At last the Alchymist is
discharg'd, having Money given him to bear his Charges._