Bert. Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded Ganymede again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are Guests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor or Rich, between the Master and Servant.

Will. This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner with his Disciples.

Bert. After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd Ganymede again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again, and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and then a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour.

Will. Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time?

Bert. None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set upon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin and sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen of their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing you their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again, and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of, and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care that the last Act shall be the best.

Will. This is the Part of a good Poet.

Bert. And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length, out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least.

Will. A strange Temper of the Nation!

Bert. There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart till near Midnight.

Will. Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a tedious one.

Bert. Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some Charon. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he gives you a Nod.

Will. But what if there should be any Thing over and above?

Bert. Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so.

Will. Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning?

Bert. No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow are you? You pay no more than the rest.

Will. This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of.

Bert. If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too.

Will. This seems to me to be Plato's City.

Bert. Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you can either make Use of or steal.

Will. Are Things very clean there?

Bert. As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six Months ago.

Will. What becomes of your Horses all this While?

Bert. They are treated after the Manner that the Men are.

Will. But is there the same Treatment every where.

Bert. It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others, than I have told you; but in general it is thus.

Will. What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in that Part of Italy call'd Lombardy, and in Spain, and in England, and in Wales, for the English have the Manners both of the French and the Germans, being a Mixture of those two Nations. The Welsh boast themselves to be the original English.

Bert. Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in them.

Will. I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time we shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full.



The YOUNG MAN and HARLOT.

The ARGUMENT.

This is certainly a divine Colloquy, that makes even a Bawdy-House a chaste Place! God can't be deceiv'd, his Eyes penetrate into the most secret Places. That young Persons ought in an especial Manner to take Care of their Chastity. A young Woman, who made herself common to get a Livelihood, is recovered from that Course of Life, as wretched as it is scandalous.

LUCRETIA, SOPHRONIUS.

Lu. O brave! My pretty Sophronius, have I gotten you again? It is an Age methinks since I saw you. I did not know you at first Sight.

So. Why so, my Lucretia?

Lu. Because you had no Beard when you went away, but you're come back with something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you look duller than you use to do?

So. I want to have a little Talk with you in private.

Lu. Ah, ah, are we not by ourselves already, my Cocky?

So. Let us go out of the Way somewhere, into a more private Place.

Lu. Come on then, we'll go into my inner Bed-Chamber, if you have a Mind to do any Thing.

So. I don't think this Place is private enough yet.

Lu. How comes it about you're so bashful all on a sudden? Well, come, I have a Closet where I lay up my Cloaths, a Place so dark, that we can scarce see one another there.

So. See if there be no Chink.

Lu. There is not so much as a Chink.

So. Is there no Body near to hear us?

Lu. Not so much as a Fly, my Dear; Why do you lose Time?

So. Can we escape the Eye of God here?

Lu. No, he sees all Things clearly.

So. And of the Angels?

Lu. No, we cannot escape their Sight.

So. How comes it about then, that Men are not asham'd to do that in the Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that they would be ashamed to do before Men?

Lu. What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preach a Sermon? Prithee put on a Franciscan's Hood, and get up into a Pulpit, and then we'll hear you hold forth, my little bearded Rogue.

So. I should not think much to do that, if I could but reclaim you from this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life in the World.

Lu. Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one must live by his Calling. This is my Business; this is all I have to live on.

So. I wish with all my Heart, my Lucretia, that setting aside for a While that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter.

Lu. Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy one another, my Sophronius.

So. You do what you do for the Sake of Gain.

Lu. You are much about the Matter.

So. Thou shalt lose nothing by it, do but hearken to me, and I'll pay you four Times over.

Lu. Well, say what you have a Mind to say.

So. Answer me this Question in the first Place: Are there any Persons that owe you any ill Will?

Lu. Not one.

So. Is there any Body that you have a Spleen against?

Lu. According as they deserve.

So. And if you could do any Thing that would gratify them, would you do it?

Lu. I would poison 'em sooner.

So. But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing that you can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live this shameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that would be more afflicting to them that wish thee well?

Lu. It is my Destiny.

So. Now that which uses to be the greatest Hardship to such as are transported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, this you undergo voluntarily.

Lu. What is that?

So. Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections to Father, Mother, Brother, Sisters, Aunts, (by Father's and Mother's Side) and all thy Relations? For thou makest them all asham'd to own thee, and thyself asham'd to come into their Sight.

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

So. Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it really is. Believe me, my Lucretia, she who has so many Friends, has never a one, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House of Office rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thou hast brought thyself. Christ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem thee with his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in an heavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into which all the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness. And if that leprous Infection they call the French Pox han't yet seiz'd thee, thou wilt not escape it long. And if once thou gettest it, how miserable wilt thou be, though all things should go favourably on thy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothing but a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and now thou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hear your Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunken Fellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work at Home, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd to endure, and how late a Nights art thou oblig'd to sit up?

Lu. How came you to be a Preacher?

So. And do but seriously consider, this Flower of thy Beauty that now brings thee so many Gallants, will soon fade: And then, poor Creature, what wilt thou do? Thou wilt be piss'd upon by every Body. It may be, thou thinkest, instead of a Mistress, I'll then be a Bawd. All Whores can't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is more impious, and more like the Devil himself?

Lu. Why, indeed, my Sophronius, almost all you say is very true. But how came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be the greatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither more frequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you have been at Rome.

So. I have so.

Lu. Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than they went: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you?

So. I'll tell you, because I did not go to Rome with the same Intent, and after the same Manner that others do. Others commonly go to Rome, on purpose to come Home worse, and there they meet with a great many Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, by whose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The New Testament with Erasmus's Paraphrase.

Lu. Erasmus's? They say that he's Half a Heretick.

So. Has his Name reached to this Place too?

Lu. There's no Name more noted among us.

So. Did you ever see him?

Lu. No, I never saw him; but I should be glad to see him; I have heard so many bad Reports of him.

So. It may be you have heard 'em, from them that are bad themselves.

Lu. Nay, from Men of the Gown.

So. Who are they?

Lu. It is not convenient to name Names.

So. Why so?

Lu. Because if you should blab it out, and it should come to their Ears, I should lose a great many good Cullies.

So. Don't be afraid, I won't speak a Word of it.

Lu. I will whisper then.

So. You foolish Girl, what Need is there to whisper, when there is no Body but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceive you're a religious Whore, that relievest Mendicants.

Lu. I get more by them Beggars than by you rich Men.

So. They rob honest Women, to lavish it away upon naughty Strumpets.

Lu. But go on, as to your Book.

So. So I will, and that's best. In that Book, Paul, that can't lie, told me, that neither Whores nor Whore-mongers shall obtain the Kingdom of Heaven. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It is but a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yet I can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinherited by my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenly Father should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in the Case of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is no Provision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, I immediately ty'd myself up from all Conversation with lewd Women.

Lu. It will be well if you can hold it.

So. It is a good Step towards Continence, to desire to be so. And last of all, there is one Remedy left, and that is a Wife. When I was at Rome, I empty'd the whole Jakes of my Sins into the Bosom of a Confessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind and Body, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, and Sobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I should upon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, Have Mercy upon me, O God: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny to some poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks he enjoin'd me so small a Penance, he answer'd me very pleasantly, My Son, says he, if you truly repent and change your Life, I don't lay much Stress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lust itself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priest impose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with the Palsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you have been heretofore. And thus I repented.

Lu. Then as far as I perceive, I have lost my Sophronius.

So. Nay, you have rather gain'd him, for he was lost before, and was neither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, and longs for the Salvation of thy Soul.

Lu. What would you have me to do then, my Sophronius?

So. To leave off that Course of Life out of Hand: Thou art but a Girl yet, and that Stain that you have contracted may be wip'd off in Time. Either marry, and I'll give you something toward a Portion, or go into some Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Place and get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any of these.

Lu. My Sophronius, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'll follow thy Advice.

So. But in the mean Time get away from hence.

Lu. Whoo! what so suddenly!

So. Why not to Day rather than to Morrow, if Delays are dangerous?

Lu. Whither shall I go?

So. Get all your Things together, give 'em to me in the Evening, my Servant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come a little after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; you shall live with her some Time upon my Cost till I can provide for you, and that shall be very quickly.

Lu. Well, my Sophronius, I commit myself wholly to thy Management.

So. In Time to come you'll be glad you have done so.



The POETICAL FEAST.

The ARGUMENT.

The Poetical Feast teaches the Studious how to banquet. That Thriftiness with Jocoseness, Chearfulness without Obscenity, and learned Stories, ought to season their Feasts. Iambics are bloody. Poets are Men of no great Judgment. The three chief Properties of a good Maid Servant. Fidelity, Deformity, and a high Spirit. A Place out of the Prologue of Terence's Eunuchus is illustrated. Also Horace's Epode to Canidia. A Place out of Seneca. Aliud agere, nihil agere, male agere. A Place out of the Elenchi of Aristotle is explain'd. A Theme poetically varied, and in a different Metre. Sentences are taken from Flowers and Trees in the Garden. Also some Verses are compos'd in Greek.

HILARY, LEONARD, CRATO, GUESTS, MARGARET, CARINUS, EUBULUS, SBRULIUS, PARTHENIUS, MUS, Hilary's Servant.

Hi. Levis apparatus, animus est lautissimus.

Le. Caenam sinistro es auspicatus omine.

Hi. Imo absit omen triste. Sed cur hoc putas?

Le. Cruenti Iambi haud congruent convivio.

Hi. I have but slender Fare, but a very liberal Mind.

Le. You have begun the Banquet with a bad Omen.

Hi. Away with bad Presages. But why do you think so?

Le. Bloody Iambics are not fit for a Feast.

Cr. O brave! I am sure the Muses are amongst us, Verses flow so from us, when we don't think of 'em.

Si rotatiles trochaeos mavelis, en, accipe: Vilis apparatus heic est, animus est lautissimus.

If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you: Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind.

Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels, they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever. O Melons! Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden. These are creeping Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Wits would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens?

Cr. If a Man may be allow'd to speak Truth at a Poetic Banquet, those you call Lettuces are Beets.

Hi. God forbid.

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

Hi. Truly you make me doubt. Soho, call the Wench. Margaret, you Hag, what did you mean to give us Beets instead of Lettuces?

Ma. I did it on Purpose.

Hi. What do you say, you Witch?

Ma. I had a Mind to try among so many Poets if any could know a Lettuce from a Beet. For I know you don't tell me truly who 'twas that discover'd 'em to be Beets.

Guests. Crato.

Ma. I thought it was no Poet who did it.

Hi. If ever you serve me so again, I'll call you Blitea instead of Margarita.

Gu. Ha, ha, ha.

Ma. Your calling me will neither make me fatter nor leaner. He calls me by twenty Names in a Day's Time: When he has a Mind to wheedle me, then I'm call'd Galatea, Euterpe, Calliope, Callirhoe, Melissa, Venus, Minerva, and what not? When he's out of Humour at any Thing, then presently I'm Tisiphone, Megaera, Alecto, Medusa, Baucis, and whatsoever comes into his Head in his mad Mood.

Hi. Get you gone with your Beets, Blitea.

Ma. I wonder what you call'd me for.

Hi. That you may go whence you came.

Ma. 'Tis an old Saying and a true, 'tis an easier Matter to raise the Devil, than 'tis to lay him.

Gu. Ha, ha, ha: Very well said. As the Matter is, Hilary, you stand in Need of some magic Verse to lay her with.

Hi. I have got one ready.

[Greek: Pheugete, kantharides lukos agrios umme diokei.]

Be gone ye Beetles, for the cruel Wolf pursues you.

Ma. What says AEsop?

Cr. Have a Care, Hilary, she'll hit you a Slap on the Face: This is your laying her with your Greek Verse. A notable Conjurer indeed!

Hi. Crato, What do you think of this Jade? I could have laid ten great Devils with such a Verse as this.

Ma. I don't care a Straw for your Greek Verses.

Hi. Well then, I must make use of a magical Spell, or, if that won't do, Mercury's Mace.

Cr. My Margaret, you know we Poets are a Sort of Enthusiasts, I won't say Mad-Men; prithee let me intreat you to let alone this Contention 'till another Time, and treat us with good Humour at this Supper for my Sake.

Ma. What does he trouble me with his Verses for? Often when I am to go to Market he has never a Penny of Money to give me, and yet he's a humming of Verses.

Cr. Poets are such Sort of Men. But however, prithee do as I say.

Ma. Indeed I will do it for your Sake, because I know you are an honest Gentleman, that never beat your Brain about such Fooleries. I wonder how you came to fall into such Company.

Cr. How come you to think so?

Ma. Because you have a full Nose, sparkling Eyes, and a plump Body. Now do but see how he leers and sneers at me.

Cr. But prithee, Sweet-Heart, keep your Temper for my Sake.

Ma. Well, I will go, and 'tis for your Sake and no Body's else.

Hi. Is she gone?

Ma. Not so far but she can hear you.

Mus. She is in the Kitchen, now, muttering something to herself I can't tell what.

Cr. I'll assure you your Maid is not dumb.

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

Cr. We have heard her Tongue, we were afraid of her Hands upon your Account.

Hi. Take some of these Pompions: We have done with the Lettuces. For I know if I should bid her bring any Lettuces, she would bring Thistles. Here are Melons too, if any Body likes them better. Here are new Figs too just gather'd, as you may see by the Milk in the Stalks. It is customary to drink Water after Figs, lest they clog the Stomach. Here is very cool clear Spring Water that runs out of this Fountain, that is good to mix with Wine.

Cr. But I can't tell whether I had best to mix Water with my Wine, or Wine with Water; this Wine seems to me so likely to have been drawn out of the Muses Fountain.

Hi. Such Wine as this is good for Poets to sharpen their Wits. You dull Fellows love heavy Liquors.

Cr. I wish I was that happy Crassus.

Hi. I had rather be Codrus or Ennius. And seeing I happen to have the Company of so many learned Guests at my Table, I won't let 'em go away without learning something of 'em. There is a Place in the Prologue of Eunuchus that puzzles many. For most Copies have it thus:

_Sic existimet, sciat, Responsum, non dictum esse, quid laesit prior, Qui bene vertendo, et ects describendo male, &c.

Let him so esteem or know, that it is an Answer, not a common Saying; because he first did the Injury, who by well translating and ill describing them, &c._

In these Words I want a witty Sense, and such as is worthy of Terence. For he did not therefore do the Wrong first, because he translated the Greek Comedies badly, but because he had found Fault with Terence's.

Eu. According to the old Proverb, He that sings worst let him begin first. When I was at London in Thomas Linacre's House, who is a Man tho' well skill'd in all Manner of Philosophy, yet he is very ready in all Criticisms in Grammar, he shew'd me a Book of great Antiquity which had it thus:

Sic existimet, stiat, Responsum, non dictum esse, quale sit prius Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas: Idem Menandri Phasma nunc nuper dedit.

The Sentence is so to be ordered, that quale sit may shew that an Example of that which is spoken before is to be subjoin'd. He threatened that he would again find Fault with something in his Comedies who had found Fault with him, and he here denies that it ought to seem a Reproach but an Answer. He that provokes begins the Quarrel; he that being provok'd, replies, only makes his Defence or Answer. He promises to give an Example thereof, quale sit, being the same with [Greek: oion] in Greek, and quod genus, veluti, or videlicet, or puta in Latin. Then afterwards he brings a reproof, wherein the Adverb prius hath Relation to another Adverb, as it were a contrary one, which follows, viz. nuper even as the Pronoun qui answers to the Word idem. For he altogether explodes the old Comedies of Lavinius, because they were now lost out of the Memory of Men. In those which he had lately published, he sets down the certain Places. I think that this is the proper Reading, and the true Sense of the Comedian: If the chief and ordinary Poets dissent not from it.

Gu. We are all entirely of your Opinion.

Eu. But I again desire to be inform'd by you of one small and very easy Thing, how this Verse is to be scann'd.

Ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas.

Scan it upon your Fingers.

Hi. I think that according to the Custom of the Antients s is to be cut off, so that there be an Anapaestus in the second Place.

Eu. I should agree to it, but that the Ablative Case ends in is, and is long by Nature. Therefore though the Consonant should be taken away, yet nevertheless a long Vowel remains.

Hi. You say right.

Cr. If any unlearned Person or Stranger should come in, he would certainly think we were bringing up again among ourselves the Countrymens Play of holding up our Fingers (dimicatione digitorum, i.e. the Play of Love).

Le. As far as I see, we scan it upon our Fingers to no Purpose. Do you help us out if you can.

Eu. To see how small a Matter sometimes puzzles Men, though they be good Scholars! The Preposition ex belongs to the End of the foregoing Verse.

Qui bene vertendo, et eas describendo male, ex Graecis bonis Latinas fecit non bonas.

Thus there is no Scruple.

Le. It is so, by the Muses. Since we have begun to scan upon our Fingers, I desire that somebody would put this Verse out of Andria into its Feet.

Sine invidia laudem invenias, et amicos pares.

For I have often tri'd and could do no good on't.

Le. Sine in is an Iambic, vidia an Anapaestus, Laudem in is a Spondee, venias an Anapaestus, et ami another Anapaestus.

Ca. You have five Feet already, and there are three Syllables yet behind, the first of which is long; so that thou canst neither make it an Iambic nor a Tribrach.

Le. Indeed you say true. We are aground; who shall help us off?

Eu. No Body can do it better than he that brought us into it. Well, Carinus, if thou canst say any Thing to the Matter, don't conceal it from your poor sincere Friends.

Ca. If my Memory does not fail me, I think I have read something of this Nature in Priscian, who says, that among the Latin Comedians v Consonant is cut off as well as the Vowel, as oftentimes in this Word enimvero; so that the part enime makes an Anapaestus.

Le. Then scan it for us.

Ca. I'll do it. Sine inidi is a proseleusmatic Foot, unless you had rather have it cut off i by Syneresis, as when Virgil puts aureo at the End of an heroick Verse for auro. But if you please let there be a Tribrach in the first Place, a lau is a Spondee, d'inveni a Dactyl, as et a a Dactyl, micos a Spondee, pares an Iambic.

Sb. Carinus hath indeed got us out of these Briars. But in the same Scene there is a Place, which I can't tell whether any Body has taken Notice of or not.

Hi. Prithee, let us have it.

Sb. There Simo speaks after this Manner.

Sine ut eveniat, quod volo, In Pamphilo ut nihil sit morae, restat Chremes.

Suppose it happen, as I desire, that there be no delay in Pamphilus; Chremes remains.

What is it that troubles you in these Words?

Sb. Sine being a Term of Threatning, there is nothing follows in this Place that makes for a Threatning. Therefore it is my Opinion that the Poet wrote it,

Sin eveniat, quod volo;

that Sin may answer to the Si that went before.

Si propter amorem uxorem nolit ducere.

For the old Man propounds two Parts differing from one another: Si, &c. If Pamphilus for the Love of Glycerie refuseth to marry, I shall have some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then it remains that I must intreat Chremes. Moreover the Interruption of Sosia, and Simo's Anger against Davus made too long a Transposition of the Words.

Hi. Mouse, reach me that Book.

Cr. Do you commit your Book to a Mouse?

Hi. More safely than my Wine. Let me never stir, if Sbrulius has not spoken the Truth.

Ca. Give me the Book, I'll shew you another doubtful Place. This Verse is not found in the Prologue of Eunuchus:

Habeo alia multa, quae nunc condonabuntur.

I have many other Things, which shall now be delivered.

Although the Latin Comedians especially take great Liberty to themselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don't remember that they any where conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read Condonabitur impersonally, or Condonabimus, changing the Number of the Person.

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

Cr. Margaret gives us no bad Counsel, we'll humour her; when we have fill'd our Bellies, we'll go to our Play again; now we'll play with our Fingers in the Dish.

Hi. Take Notice of Poetick Luxury. You have three Sorts of Eggs, boil'd, roasted, and fry'd; they are all very new, laid within these two Days.

Par. I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shall like 'em very well.

Hi. Boy, go ask Margaret what they are fry'd in.

Mo. She says they are fry'd in neither.

Hi. What! neither in Butter nor Oil. In what then?

Mo. She says they are fry'd in Lye.

Cr. She has given you an Answer like your Question. What a great Difficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil.

Ca. Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a Beet.

Hi. Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time. Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting?

Mo. Yes, a great many Things.

Hi. These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat.

Mo. What Sauce would you have?

Hi. Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded.

Mo. I'll tell her, Sir.

Hi. What, do you come back empty-handed?

Mo. She says, Juice is not used to be squeez'd out of Vine Tendrels.

Le. A fine Maid Servant, indeed!

Sb. Well, we'll season our Eggs with pleasant Stories. I found a Place in the Epodes of Horace, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wrong interpreted, and not only by Mancinellus, and other later Writers; but by Porphyry himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings a Recantation to the Witch Canidia.

tuusque venter pactumeius, et tuo cruore rubros obstetrix pannos lavit, utcunque fortis exilis puerpera.

For they all take exilis to be a Noun in this Place, when it is a Verb. I'll write down Porphyry's Words, if we can believe 'em to be his: She is exilis, says he, under that Form, as though she were become deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a natural Leanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive that the Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourth Place admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she did indeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed long after her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lusty lying-in Women used to do.

Hi. We thank you Sbrulius, for giving us such fine Sauce to our Eggs.

Le. There is another Thing in the first Book of Odes that is not much unlike this. The Ode begins thus: Tu ne quae sieris. Now the common Reading is thus, Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut melius quicquid erit pati. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, as if there were no Difficulty in it. Only Mancinettus thinking the Sentence imperfect, bids us add possis.

Sb. Have you any Thing more that is certain about this Matter?

Le. I don't know whether I have or no; but in my Opinion, Horace seems here to have made Use of the Greek Idiom; and this he does more than any other of the Poets. For it is a very common Thing with the Greeks, to join an infinitive Mood with the Word [Greek: hos] and [Greek: hoste]. And so Horace uses ut pati, for ut patiaris: Although what Mancinellus guesses, is not altogether absurd.

Hi. I like what you say very well. Run, Mouse, and bring what is to come, if there be any Thing.

Cr. What new dainty Dish is this?

Hi. This is a Cucumber sliced; this is the Broth of the Pulp of a Gourd boil'd, it is good to make the Belly loose.

Sb. Truly a medical feast.

Hi. Take it in good Part. There's a Fowl to come out of our Hen-Coop.

Sb. We will change thy Name, and call thee Apicius, instead of Hilary.

Hi. Well, laugh now as much as you will, it may be you'll highly commend this Supper to Morrow.

Sb. Why so?

Hi. When you find that your Dinner has been well season'd.

Sb. What, with a good Stomach?

Hi. Yes, indeed.

Cr. Hilary, do you know what Task I would have you take upon you?

Hi. I shall know when you have told me.

Cr. The Choir sings some Hymns, that are indeed learned ones; but are corrupted in many Places by unlearned Persons. I desire that you would mend 'em; and to give you an Example, we sing thus:

Hostis Herodes impie, Christum venire quid times?

Thou wicked Enemy Herod, why dost thou dread the Coming of Christ?

The mis-placing of one Word spoils the Verse two Ways. For the Word hostis, making a Trochee, has no Place in an Iambick Verse, and Hero being a Spondee won't stand in the second Place. Nor is there any doubt but the Verse at first was thus written,

Herodes hostis impie.

For the Epithete impie better agrees with Hostis than with Herod. Besides Herodes being a Greek Word [Greek: e or ae] is turned into [Greek: e] in the vocative; as [Greek: Sokrataes, o Sokrates]; and so [Greek: Agamemnon [Transcribers Note: this word appears in Greek with the o represented by the character omega.]] in the nominative Case is turned into [Greek: o]. So again we sing the Hymn,

_Jesu corona virginum, Quem mater ilia concepit, Quae sola virgo parturit.

O Jesus the Crown of Virgins, Whom she the Mother conceiv'd, Which was the only Person of a Virgin that brought forth._

There is no Doubt but the Word should be pronounc'd concipit. For the Change of the Tense sets off a Word. And it is ridiculous for us to find Fault with concipit when parlurit follows.

Hi. Truly I have been puzzled at a great many such Things; nor will it be amiss, if hereafter we bestow a little Time upon this Matter. For methinks Ambrose has not a little Grace in this Kind of Verse, for he does commonly end a Verse of four Feet with a Word of three Syllables, and commonly places a caesura in the End of a Word. It is so common with him that it cannot seem to have been by Chance. If you would have an Example, Deus Creator. Here is a Penthemimeris, it follows, omnium; Polique rector, then follows, vestiens; diem decoro, and then lumine; noctem soporis, then follows gratia.

Hi. But here's a good fat Hen that has laid me Eggs, and hatch'd me Chickens for ten Years together.

Cr. It is Pity that she should have been kill'd.

Ca. If it were fit to intermingle any Thing of graver Studies, I have something to propose.

Hi. Yes, if it be not too crabbed.

Ca. That it is not. I lately began to read Seneca's Epistles, and stumbled, as they say, at the very Threshold. The Place is in the first Epistle; And if, says he, thou wilt but observe it, great Part of our Life passes away while we are doing what is ill; the greatest Part, while we are doing nothing, and the whole of it while we are doing that which is to no Purpose. In this Sentence, he seems to affect I can't tell what Sort of Witticism, which I do not well understand.

Le. I'll guess, if you will.

Ca. Do so.

Le. No Man offends continually. But, nevertheless, a great Part of one's Life is lost in Excess, Lust, Ambition, and other Vices; but a much greater Part is lost in doing of nothing. Moreover they are said to do nothing, not who live in Idleness, but they who are busied about frivolous Things which conduce nothing at all to our Happiness: And thence comes the Proverb, It is better to be idle, than to be doing, but to no Purpose. But the whole Life is spent in doing another Thing. He is said, aliud agere, who does not mind what he is about. So that the whole of Life is lost: Because when we are vitiously employ'd we are doing what we should not do; when we are employ'd about frivolous Matters we do that we should not do; and when we study Philosophy, in that we do it negligently and carelesly, we do something to no Purpose. If this Interpretation don't please you, let this Sentence of Seneca be set down among those Things of this Author that Aulus Gellius condemns in this Writer as frivolously witty.

Hi. Indeed I like it very well. But in the mean Time, let us fall manfully upon the Hen. I would not have you mistaken, I have no more Provision for you. It agrees with what went before. That is the basest Loss that comes by Negligence, and he shews it by this Sentence consisting of three Parts. But methinks I see a Fault a little after: We foresee not Death, a great Part of it is past already. It is my Opinion it ought to be read; We foresee Death. For we foresee those Things which are a great Way off from us, when Death for the most Part is gone by us.

Le. If Philosophers do sometimes give themselves Leave to go aside into the Meadows of the Muses, perhaps it will not be amiss for us, if we, to gratify our Fancy, take a Turn into their Territories.

Hi. Why not?

Le. As I was lately reading over again Aristotle's Book that he entitles [Greek: Peri ton elenchon], the Argument of which is for the most Part common both to Rhetoricians and Philosophers, I happen'd to fall upon some egregious Mistakes of the Interpreters. And there is no Doubt but that they that are unskill'd in the Greek have often miss'd it in many Places. For Aristotle proposes a Sort of such Kind of Ambiguity as arises from a Word of a contrary Signification. [Greek: ho ti manthanousin oi epistamenoi ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi to gar manthanein omonymon, to te xunienai chromenon te episteme, kai to lambanein ten epistemen.] And they turn it thus. Because intelligent Persons learn; for Grammarians are only tongue-learn'd; for to learn is an equivocal Word, proper both to him that exerciseth and to him that receiveth Knowledge.

Hi. Methinks you speak Hebrew, and not English.

Le. Have any of you heard any equivocal Word?

Hi. No.

Le. What then can be more foolish than to desire to turn that which cannot possibly be turn'd. For although the Greek Word [Greek: manthanein], signifies as much as [Greek: mathein] and [Greek: matheteuein], so among the Latins, discere, to learn, signifies as much as doctrinam accipere, or doctrinam tradere. But whether this be true or no I can't tell. I rather think [Greek: manthanein], is of doubtful Signification with the Greeks, as cognoscere is among the Latins. For he that informs, and the Judge that learns, both of them know the Cause. And so I think among the Greeks the Master is said [Greek: manthanein] whilst he hears his Scholars, as also the Scholars who learn of him. But how gracefully hath he turn'd that [Greek: ta gar apostomatizomena manthanousin oi grammatikoi], nam secundum os grammatici discunt: For the Grammarians are tongue-learn'd; since it ought to be translated, Nam grammatici, quae dictitant, docent: Grammarians teach what they dictate. Here the Interpreters ought to have given another Expression, which might not express the same Words, but the same Kind of Thing. Tho' I am apt to suspect here is some Error in the Greek Copy, and that it ought to be written [Greek: homonumon to te xunienai kai to lambanein]. And a little after he subjoins another Example of Ambiguity, which arises not from the Diversity of the Signification of the same Word, but from a different Connection, [Greek: to boulesthai labein me tous polemious], velleme accipere pugnantes. To be willing that I should receive the fighting Men: For so he translates it, instead of velle me capere hostes, to be willing that I take the Enemies; and if one should read [Greek: boulesthe], it is more perspicuous. Vultis ut ego capiam hostes? Will ye that I take the Enemies? For the Pronoun may both go before and follow the Verb capere. If it go before it, the Sense will be this, Will ye that I take the Enemies? If it follows, then this will be the Sense, Are ye willing that the Enemies should take me? He adds also another Example of the same Kind, [Greek: ara ho tis ginoskei, touto ginoskei]. i.e. An quod quis novit hoc novit. The Ambiguity lies in [Greek: touto]. If it should be taken in the accusative Case, the Sense will be this; Whatsoever it is that any Body knows, that Thing he knows to be. But if in the nominative Case, the Sense will be this, That Thing which any Body knows, it knows; as though that could not be known that knows not again by Course. Again he adds another Example. [Greek: apa ho tis hora, touto hora; hora de ton kiona hoste hora ho kion]. That which any one sees, does that Thing see; but he sees a Post, does the Post therefore see? The Ambiguity lies again in [Greek: touto], as we shew'd before. But these Sentences may be render'd into Latin well enough; but that which follows cannot possibly by any Means be render'd, [Greek: Ara ho sy phes einai, touto sy phes einai; phes de lithon einai sy ara phes lithos einai]. Which they thus render, putas quod tu dicis esse, hoc tu dicis esse: dicis autem lapidem esse, tu ergo lapis dicis esse. Pray tell me what Sense can be made of these Words? For the Ambiguity lies partly in the Idiom of the Greek Phrase, which is in the major and minor. Although in the major there is another Ambiguity in the two Words [Greek: o] and [Greek: touto], which if they be taken in the nominative Case, the Sense will be, That which thou sayest thou art, that thou art. But if in the accusative Case the Sense will be, Whatsoever thou sayst is, that thou sayst is; and to this Sense he subjoins [Greek: lithon phes einai], but to the former Sense he subjoins [Greek: sy ara phes lithos einai]. Catullus once attempted to imitate the Propriety of the Greek Tongue:

_Phaselus iste, quem videtis, hospites, Ait fuisse navium celerrimus.

My Guests, that Gally which you see The most swift of the Navy is, says he._

For so was this Verse in the old Edition. Those who write Commentaries on these Places being ignorant of this, must of Necessity err many Ways. Neither indeed can that which immediately follows be perspicuous in the Latin. [Greek: Kai ara eoti sigonta legein; ditton gar esti to sigonta legein, to te ton legonta sigan, kai to ta legomena.] That they have render'd thus; Et putas, est tacentem dicere? Duplex enim est, tacentem dicere; et hunc dicere tacentem, et quae dicuntur. Are not these Words more obscure than the Books of the Sibyls?

Hi. I am not satisfy'd with the Greek.

Le. I'll interpret it as well as I can. Is it possible for a Man to speak while he is silent? This Interrogation has a two-Fold Sense, the one of which is false and absurd, and the other may be true; for it cannot possibly be that he who speaks, should not speak what he does speak; that is that he should be silent while he is speaking; but it is possible, that he who speaks may be silent of him who speaks. Although this Example falls into another Form that he adds a little after. And again, I admire, that a little after, in that kind of Ambiguity that arises from more Words conjoin'd, the Greeks have chang'd the Word Seculum into the Letters, [Greek: epistasthai ta grammata], seeing that the Latin Copies have it, scire seculum. For here arises a double Sense, either that the Age itself might know something, or that somebody might know the Age. But this is an easier Translation of it into [Greek: aiona] or [Greek: kosmon], than into [Greek: grammata]. For it is absurd to say that Letters know any Thing; but it is no absurdity to say, something is known to our Age, or that any one knows his Age. And a little after, where he propounds an Ambiguity in the Accent, the Translator does not stick to put Virgil's Words instead of Homer's, when there was the same Necessity in that Example, quicquid dicis esse, hoc est, What thou sayst is, it is. Aristotle out of Homer says, [Greek: ou kataputhetai ombro], if [Greek: ou] should be aspirated and circumflected, it sounds in Latin thus; Cujus computrescit pluvia; by whose Rain it putrifies; but if [Greek: ou] be acuted and exile, it sounds, Non computrescit pluvia; it does not putrify with Rain; and this indeed is taken out of the Iliad [Greek: ps]. Another is, [Greek: didomen de oi euchos aresthai]: the Accent being placed upon the last Syllable but one, signifies, grant to him; but plac'd upon the first Syllable [Greek: didomen], signifies, we grant. But the Poet did not think Jupiter said, we grant to him; but commands the Dream itself to grant him, to whom it is sent to obtain his Desire. For [Greek: didomen], is used for [Greek: didonai]. For these two of Homer, these two are added out of our Poets; as that out of the Odes of Horace.

Me tuo longas pereunte noctes, Lydia, dormis.

For if the Accent be on me being short, and tu be pronounc'd short, it is one Word metuo; that is, timeo, I am afraid: Although this Ambiguity lies not in the Accent only, but also arises from the Composition.

They have brought another Example out of Virgil:

Heu quia nam tanti cinxerunt aethera nymbi!

Although here also the Ambiguity lies in the Composition.

Hi. Leonard, These Things are indeed Niceties, worthy to be known; but in the mean Time, I'm afraid our Entertainment should seem rather a Sophistical one, than a Poetical one: At another Time, if you please, we'll hunt Niceties and Criticisms for a whole Day together.

Le. That is as much as to say, we'll hunt for Wood in a Grove, or seek for Water in the Sea.

Hi. Where is my Mouse?

Mou. Here he is.

Hi. Bid Margaret bring up the Sweet-Meats.

Mus. I go, Sir.

Hi. What! do you come again empty-handed?

Mus. She says, she never thought of any Sweet-Meats, and that you have sat long enough already.

Hi. I am afraid, if we should philosophize any longer, she'll come and overthrow the Table, as Xantippe did to Socrates; therefore it is better for us to take our Sweet-Meats in the Garden; and there we may walk and talk freely; and let every one gather what Fruit he likes best off of the Trees.

Guests. We like your Motion very well.

Hi. There is a little Spring sweeter than any Wine.

Ca. How comes it about, that your Garden is neater than your Hall?

Hi. Because I spend most of my Time here. If you like any Thing that is here, don't spare whatever you find. And now if you think you have walk'd enough, what if we should sit down together under this Teil Tree, and rouze up our Muses.

Pa. Come on then, let us do so.

Hi. The Garden itself will afford us a Theme.

Pa. If you lead the Way, we will follow you.

Hi. Well, I'll do so. He acts very preposterously, who has a Garden neatly trimm'd up, and furnish'd with various Delicacies, and at the same Time, has a Mind adorn'd with no Sciences nor Virtues.

Le. We shall believe the Muses themselves are amongst us, if thou shalt give us the same Sentence in Verse.

Hi. That's a great Deal more easy to me to turn Prose into Verse, than it is to turn Silver into Gold.

Le. Let us have it then:

_Hi. Cui renidet hortus undiquaque flosculis, Animumque nullis expolitum dotibus Squalere patitur, is facit praepostere.

Whose Garden is all grac'd with Flowers sweet, His Soul mean While being impolite, Is far from doing what is meet._

Here's Verses for you, without the Muses or Apollo; but it will be very entertaining, if every one of you will render this Sentence into several different Kinds of Verse.

Le. What shall be his Prize that gets the Victory?

Hi. This Basket full, either of Apples, or Plumbs, or Cherries, or Medlars, or Pears, or of any Thing else he likes better.

Le. Who should be the Umpire of the Trial of Skill?

Hi. Who shall but Crato? And therefore he shall be excused from versifying, that he may attend the more diligently.

Cr. I'm afraid you'll have such a Kind of Judge, as the Cuckoo and Nightingal once had, when they vy'd one with the other, who should sing best.

Hi. I like him if the rest do.

Gu. We like our Umpire. Begin, Leonard.

_Le. Cui tot deliciis renidet hortus, Herbis, fioribus, arborumque foetu, Et multo et vario, nec excolendum Curat pectus et artibus probatis, Et virtutibus, is mihi videtur Laevo judicio, parumque recto.

Who that his Garden shine doth mind With Herbs and Flowers, and Fruits of various kind; And in mean While, his Mind neglected lies Of Art and Virtue void, he is not wise._

I have said.

Hi. Carinus bites his Nails, we look for something elaborate from him.

Ca. I'm out of the poetical Vein.

_Cura cui est, ut niteat hortus flosculis ac foetibus, Negligenti excolere pectus disciplinis optimis; Hic labore, mihi ut videtur, ringitur praepostero.

Whose only Care is that his Gardens be With Flow'rs and Fruits furnish'd most pleasantly, But disregards his Mind with Art to grace, Bestows his Pains and Care much like an Ass._

Hi. You han't bit your Nails for nothing.

Eu. Well, since my Turn is next, that I may do something,

_Qui studet ut variis niteat cultissimus hortus Deliciis, patiens animum squalere, nec ullis Artibus expoliens, huic est praepostera cura.

Who cares to have his Garden neat and rare. And doth of Ornaments his Mind leave bare, Acts but with a preposterous Care._

We have no Need to spur Sbrulius on, for he is so fluent at Verses, that he oftentimes tumbles 'em out, before he is aware.

Sb. _Cui vernat hortus cultus et elegans, Nee pectus uttis artibus excolit; Praepostera is mra laborat. Sit ratio tibiprima mentis.

Who to make his Garden spring, much Care imparts, And yet neglects his Mind to grace with Arts, Acts wrong: Look chiefly to improve thy Parts._

Pa. _Quisquis accurat, variis ut hortus Floribus vernet, neque pectus idem Artibus sanctis colit, hunc habet praepostera cura.

Who to his Soul prefers a Flower or worse, May well be said to set the Cart before the Horse._

Hi. Now let us try to which of us the Garden will afford the most Sentences.

Le. How can so rich a Garden but do that? even this Rose-Bed will furnish me with what to say. As the Beauty of a Rose is fading, so is Youth soon gone; you make haste to gather your Rose before it withers; you ought more earnestly to endeavour that your Youth pass not away without Fruit.

Hi. It is a Theme very fit for a Verse.

Ca. As among Trees, every one hath its Fruits: So among Men, every one hath his natural Gift.

Eu. As the Earth, if it be till'd, brings forth various Things for human Use; and being neglected, is covered with Thorns and Briars: So the Genius of a Man, if it be accomplish'd with honest Studies, yields a great many Virtues; but if it be neglected, is over-run with various Vices.

Sb. A Garden ought to be drest every Year, that it may look handsome: The Mind being once furnish'd with good Learning, does always flourish and spring forth.

Pa. As the Pleasantness of Gardens does not draw the Mind off from honest Studies, but rather invites it to them: So we ought to seek for such Recreations and Divertisements, as are not contrary to Learning.

Hi. O brave! I see a whole Swarm of Sentences. Now for Verse: But before we go upon that, I am of the Mind, it will be no improper nor unprofitable Exercise to turn the first Sentence into Greek Verse, as often as we have turn'd it into Latin. And let Leonard begin, that has been an old Acquaintance of the Greek Poets.

Le. I'll begin if you bid me.

Hi. I both bid and command you.

Le. [Greek: Hoi kepos estin anthesin gelon kalois, Ho de nous mal auchmon tois kalois muthemasin, Ouk esti kompsos outos, ouk orthos phronei, Peri pleionos poion ta phaul, e kreittona].

He never entered Wisdom's Doors Who delights himself in simple Flowers, And his foul Soul neglects to cleanse. This Man knows not what Virtue means.

I have begun, let him follow me that will.

Hi. Carinus.

Ca. Nay, Hilary.

Le. But I see here's Margaret coming upon us of a sudden, she's bringing I know not what Dainties.

Hi. If she does so, my Fury'll do more than I thought she'd do. What hast brought us?

Ma. Mustard-Seed, to season your Sweet-Meats. An't you ashamed to stand prating here till I can't tell what Time of Night? And yet you Poets are always reflecting against Womens Talkativeness.

Cr. Margaret says very right, it is high Time for every one to go Home to Bed: At another Time we'll spend a Day in this commendable Kind of Contest.

Hi. But who do you give the Prize to?

Cr. For this Time I allot it to myself. For no Body has overcome but I.

Hi. How did you overcome that did not contend at all.

Cr. Ye have contended, but not try'd it out. I have overcome Marget, and that is more than any of you could do.

Ca. Hilary. He demands what's his Right, let him have the Basket.



An ENQUIRY CONCERNING FAITH.

The ARGUMENT.

This Inquisition concerning Faith, comprehends the Sum and Substance of the Catholick Profession. He here introduces a Lutheran that by the Means of the orthodox Faith, he may bring either Party to a Reconciliation. Concerning Excommunication, and the Popes Thunderbolts. And also that we ought to associate ourselves with the Impious and Heretical, if we have any Hope of amending them. Symbolum is a military Word. A most divine and elegant Paraphrase upon the Apostles Creed.

AULUS, BARBATUS.

AU. Salute freely, is a Lesson for Children. But I can't tell whether I should bid you be well or no.

Ba. In Truth I had rather any one would make me well, than bid me be so. Aulus, Why do you say that?

Au. Why? Because if you have a Mind to know, you smell of Brimstone, or Jupiter's Thunderbolt.

Ba. There are mischievous Deities, and there are harmless Thunderbolts, that differ much in their Original from those that are ominous. For I fancy you mean something about Excommunication.

Au. You're right.

Ba. I have indeed heard dreadful Thunders, but I never yet felt the Blow of the Thunderbolt.

Au. How so?

Ba. Because I have never the worse Stomach, nor my Sleep the less sound.

Au. But a Distemper is commonly so much the more dangerous, the less it is felt. But these brute Thunderbolts as you call 'em, strike the Mountains and the Seas.

Ba. They do strike 'em indeed, but with Strokes that have no effect upon 'em. There is a Sort of Lightning that proceeds from a Glass or a Vessel of Brass.

Au. Why, and that affrights too.

Ba. It may be so, but then none but Children are frighted at it. None but God has Thunderbolts that strike the Soul.

Au. But suppose God is in his Vicar.

Ba. I wish he were.

Au. A great many Folks admire, that you are not become blacker than a Coal before now.

Ba. Suppose I were so, then the Salvation of a lost Person were so much the more to be desired, if Men followed the Doctrine of the Gospel.

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

Ba. Why so?

Au. That he that is smitten with the Thunderbolt may be ashamed and repent.

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

Au. Why so?

Ba. Because when we were Enemies to God, and Worshippers of Idols, fighting under Satan's Banner, that is to say, every Way most accursed; then in an especial Manner he spake to us by his Son, and by his treating with us restored us to Life when we were dead.

Au. That thou say'st is indeed very true.

Ba. In Truth it would go very hard with all sick Persons, if the Physician should avoid speaking to 'em, whensoever any poor Wretch was seized with a grievous Distemper, for then he has most Occasion for the Assistance of a Doctor.

Au. But I am afraid that you will sooner infect me with your Distemper than I shall cure you of it. It sometimes falls out that he that visits a sick Man is forced to be a Fighter instead of a Physician.

Ba. Indeed it sometimes happens so in bodily Distempers: But in the Diseases of the Mind you have an Antidote ready against every Contagion.

Au. What's that?

Ba. A strong Resolution not to be removed from the Opinion that has been fixed in you. But besides, what Need you fear to become a Fighter, where the Business is managed by Words?

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

Ba. While there is Life there is Hope, and according to St. Paul, Charity can't despair, because it hopes all Things.

Au. You observe very well, and upon this Hope I may venture to discourse with you a little; and if you'll permit me, I'll be a Physician to you.

Ba. Do, with all my Heart.

Au. Inquisitive Persons are commonly hated, but yet Physicians are allowed to be inquisitive after every particular Thing.

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

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

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

Au. Concerning the Apostles Creed.

Ba. Symbolum is indeed a military Word. I will be content to be look'd upon an Enemy to Christ, if I shall deceive you in this Matter.

Au. Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, who made the Heaven and Earth.

Ba. Yes, and whatsoever is contained in the Heaven and Earth, and the Angels also which are Spirits.

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

Ba. I understand a certain eternal Mind, which neither had Beginning nor shall have any End, than which nothing can be either greater, wiser, or better.

Au. Thou believest indeed like a good Christian.

Ba. Who by his omnipotent Beck made all Things visible or invisible; who by his wonderful Wisdom orders and governs all Things; who by his Goodness feeds and maintains all Things, and freely restored Mankind when fallen.

Au. These are indeed three especial Attributes in God: But what Benefit dost thou receive by the Knowledge of them?

Ba. When I conceive him to be Omnipotent, I submit myself wholly to him, in comparison of whose Majesty, the Excellency of Men and Angels is nothing. Moreover, I firmly believe whatsoever the holy Scriptures teach to have been done, and also that what he hath promised shall be done by him, seeing he can by his single Beck do whatsoever he pleases, how impossible soever it may seem to Man. And upon that Account distrusting my own Strength, I depend wholly upon him who can do all Things. When I consider his Wisdom, I attribute nothing at all to my own, but I believe all Things are done by him righteously and justly, although they may seem to human Sense absurd or unjust. When I animadvert on his Goodness, I see nothing in myself that I do not owe to free Grace, and I think there is no Sin so great, but he is willing to forgive to a true Penitent, nor nothing but what he will freely bestow on him that asks in Faith.

Au. Dost thou think that it is sufficient for thee to believe him to be so?

Ba. By no Means. But with a sincere Affection I put my whole Trust and Confidence in him alone, detesting Satan, and all Idolatry, and magic Arts. I worship him alone, preferring nothing before him, nor equalling nothing with him, neither Angel, nor my Parents, nor Children, nor Wife, nor Prince, nor Riches, nor Honours, nor Pleasures; being ready to lay down my Life if he call for it, being assur'd that he can't possibly perish who commits himself wholly to him.

Au. What then, dost thou worship nothing, fear nothing, love nothing but God alone?

Ba. If I reverence any Thing, fear any Thing, or love any Thing, it is for his Sake I love it, fear it, and reverence it; referring all Things to his Glory, always giving Thanks to him for whatsoever happens, whether prosperous or adverse, Life or Death.

Au. In Truth your Confession is very sound so far. What do you think concerning the second Person?

Ba. Examine me.

Au. Dost thou believe Jesus was God and Man?

Ba. Yes.

Au. Could it be that the same should be both immortal God and mortal Man?

Ba. That was an easy Thing for him to do who can do what he will: And by Reason of his divine Nature, which is common to him with the Father, whatsoever Greatness, Wisdom, and Goodness I attribute to the Father, I attribute the same to the Son; and whatsoever I owe to the Father, I owe also to the Son, but only that it hath seemed good to the Father to bestow all Things on us through him.

Au. Why then do the holy Scriptures more frequently call the Son Lord than God?

Ba. Because God is a Name of Authority, that is to say, of Sovereignty, which in an especial Manner belongeth to the Father, who is absolutely the Original of all Things, and the Fountain even of the Godhead itself. Lord is the Name of a Redeemer and Deliverer, altho' the Father also redeemed us by his Son, and the Son is God, but of God the Father. But the Father only is from none, and obtains the first Place among the divine Persons.

Au. Then dost thou put thy Confidence in Jesus?

Ba. Why not?

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

Ba. But to this Man alone hath all the Power in Heaven and Earth been given, that at his Name every Knee should bow, both of Things in Heaven, Things in Earth, and Things under the Earth. Although I would not put my chief Confidence and Hope in him, unless he were God.

Au. Why do you call him Son?

Ba. Lest any should imagine him to be a Creature.

Au. Why an only Son?

Ba. To distinguish the natural Son from the Sons by Adoption, the Honour of which Sirname he imputes to us also, that we may look for no other besides this Son.

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

Ba. That being Man, he might reconcile Men to God.

Au. Dost thou believe he was conceived without the Help of Man, by the Operation of the holy Ghost, and born of the undented Virgin Mary, taking a mortal Body of her Substance?

Ba. Yes.

Au. Why would he be so born?

Ba. Because it so became God to be born, because it became him to be born in this Manner, who was to cleanse away the Filthiness of our Conception and Birth. God would have him to be born the Son of Man, that we being regenerated into him, might be made the Sons of God.

Au. Dost thou believe that he lived here upon Earth, did Miracles, taught those Things that are recorded to us in the Gospel?

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

Au. I am not an Apuleius turned inside out, that you should suspect that an Ass lies hid under the Form of a Man. But do you believe this very Person to be the very Messiah whom the Types of the Law shadowed out, which the Oracle of the Prophets promised, which the Jews looked for so many Ages?

Ba. I believe nothing more firmly.

Au. Dost thou believe his Doctrine and Life are sufficient to lead us to perfect Piety?

Ba. Yes, perfectly sufficient.

Au. Dost thou believe that the same was really apprehended by the Jews, bound, buffeted, beaten, spit upon, mock'd, scourg'd under Pontius Pilate; and lastly, nailed to the Cross, and there died?

Ba. Yes, I do.

Au. Do you believe him to have been free from all the Law of Sin whatsoever?

Ba. Why should I not? A Lamb without Spot.

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

Ba. Not only willingly, but even with great Desire; but according to the Will of his Father.

Au. Why would the Father have his only Son, being innocent and most dear to him, suffer all these Things?

Ba. That by this Sacrifice he might reconcile to himself us who were guilty, we putting our Confidence and Hope in his Name.

Au. Why did God suffer all Mankind thus to fall? And if he did suffer them, was there no other Way to be found out to repair our Fall?

Ba. Not human Reason, but Faith hath persuaded me of this, that it could be done no Way better nor more beneficially for our Salvation.

Au. Why did this Kind of Death please him best?

Ba. Because in the Esteem of the World it was the most disgraceful, and because the Torment of it was cruel and lingring, because it was meet for him who would invite all the Nations of the World unto Salvation, with his Members stretch'd out into every Coast of the World, and call off Men, who were glew'd unto earthly Cares, to heavenly Things; and, last of all, that he might represent to us the brazen Serpent that Moses set up upon a Pole, that whoever should fix his Eyes upon it, should be heal'd of the Wounds of the Serpent, and fulfil the Prophet's Promise, who prophesied, say ye among the Nations, God hath reign'd from a Tree.

Au. Why would he be buried also, and that so curiously, anointed with Myrrh and Ointments, inclosed in a new Tomb, cut out of a hard and natural Rock, the Door being seal'd, and also publick Watchmen set there?

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

Au. Why did he not rise again presently?

Ba. For the very same Reason; for if his Death had been doubtful, his Resurrection had been doubtful too; but he would have that to be as certain as possible could be.

Au. Do you believe his Soul descended into Hell?

Ba. St. Cyprian affirms that this Clause was not formerly inserted either in the Roman Creed or in the Creed of the Eastern Churches, neither is it recorded in Tertullian, a very ancient Writer. And yet notwithstanding, I do firmly believe it, both because it agrees with the Prophecy of the Psalm, Thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell; and again, O Lord, thou hast brought my Soul out of Hell. And also because the Apostle Peter, in the third Chapter of his first Epistle (of the Author whereof no Man ever doubted,) writes after this Manner, Being put to Death in the Flesh, but quickned by the Spirit, in which also he came and preach'd by his Spirit to those that were in Prison. But though I believe he descended into Hell, yet I believe he did not suffer anything there. For he descended not to be tormented there, but that he might destroy the Kingdom of Satan.

Au. Well, I hear nothing yet that is impious; but he died that he might restore us to Life again, who were dead in Sin. But why did he rise to live again?

Ba. For three Reasons especially.

Au. Which are they?

Ba. First of all, to give us an assur'd Hope of our Resurrection. Secondly, that we might know that he in whom we have plac'd the Safety of our Resurrection is immortal, and shall never die. Lastly, that we being dead in Sins by Repentance, and buried together with him by Baptism, should by his Grace be raised up again to Newness of Life.

Au. Do you believe that the very same Body that died upon the Cross, which reviv'd in the Grave, which was seen and handled by the Disciples, ascended into Heaven?

Ba. Yes, I do.

Au. Why would he leave the Earth?

Ba. That we might all love him spiritually, and that no Man should appropriate Christ to himself upon the Earth, but that we should equally lift up our Minds to Heaven, knowing that our Head is there. For if Men now so much please themselves in the Colour and Shape of the Garment, and do boast so much of the Blood or the Foreskin of Christ, and the Milk of the Virgin Mary, what do you think would have been, had he abode on the Earth, eating and discoursing? What Dissentions would those Peculiarities of his Body have occasioned?

Au. Dost thou believe that he, being made immortal, sitteth at the right Hand of the Father?

Ba. Why not? As being Lord of all Things, and Partaker of all his Father's Kingdom. He promised his Disciples that this should be, and he presented this Sight to his Martyr Stephen.

Au. Why did he shew it?

Ba. That we may not be discouraged in any Thing, well knowing what a powerful Defender and Lord we have in Heaven.

Au. Do you believe that he will come again in the same Body, to judge the Quick and the Dead?

Ba. As certain as I am, that those Things the Prophets have foretold concerning Christ hitherto have come to pass, so certain I am, that whatsoever he would have us look for for the future, shall come to pass. We have seen his first Coming, according to the Predictions of the Prophets, wherein he came in a low Condition, to instruct and save. We shall also see his second, when he will come on high, in the Glory of his Father, before whose Judgment-Seat all Men of every Nation, and of every Condition, whether Kings or Peasants, Greeks, or Scythians, shall be compell'd to appear; and not only those, whom at that Coming he shall find alive, but also all those who have died from the Beginning of the World, even until that Time, shall suddenly be raised, and behold his Judge every one in his own Body. The blessed Angels also shall be there as faithful Servants, and the Devils to be judg'd. Then he will, from on high, pronounce that unvoidable Sentence, which will cast the Devil, together with those that have taken his Part, into eternal Punishments, that they may not after that, be able to do Mischief to any. He will translate the Godly, being freed from all Trouble, to a Fellowship with him in his heavenly Kingdom: Although he would have the Day of his coming unknown to all.

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

Ba. As you please.

Au. Dost thou believe in the holy Spirit?

Ba. I do believe that it is true God, together with the Father, and the Son. I believe they that wrote us the Books of the Old and New Testament were inspired by it, without whose Help no Man attains Salvation.

Au. Why is he called a Spirit?

Ba. Because as our Bodies do live by Breath, so our Minds are quicken'd by the secret Inspiration of the holy Spirit.

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

Ba. Why not?

Au. Are not then the Persons confounded?

Ba. No, not at all, for the Father is called a Spirit, because he is without a Body, which Thing is common to all the Persons, according to their divine Nature: But the third Person is called a Spirit, because he breathes out, and transfuses himself insensibly into our Minds, even as the Air breathes from the Land, or the Rivers.

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

Ba. Because of his perfect Likeness of Nature and Will.

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

Ba. Not according to the divine Nature, except that he resembles the Property of the Father the more in this, that the Spirit proceeds from him also.

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

Ba. Because, as St. Hilary saith, I no where read that he was begotten, neither do I read of his Father: I read of the Spirit, and that proceeding from.

Au. Why is the Father alone called God in the Creed?

Ba. Because he, as I have said before, is simply the Author of all Things that are, and the Fountain of the whole Deity.

Au. Speak in plainer Terms.

Ba. Because nothing can be nam'd which hath not its Original from the Father: For indeed, in this very Thing, that the Son and Holy Spirit is God, they acknowledge that they received it from the Father; therefore the chief Authority, that is to say, the Cause of Beginning, is in the Father alone, because he alone is of none: But yet, in the Creed it may be so taken, that the Name of God may not be proper to one Person, but used in general; because, it is distinguish'd afterwards by the Terms of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, into one God; which Word of Nature comprehends the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; that is to say, the three Persons.

Au. Dost thou believe in the holy Church?

Ba. No.

Au. What say you? Do you not believe in it?

Ba. I believe the holy Church, which is the Body of Christ; that is to say, a certain Congregation of all Men throughout the whole World, who agree in the Faith of the Gospel, who worship one God the Father, who put their whole Confidence in his Son, who are guided by the same Spirit of him; from whose Fellowship he is cut off that commits a deadly Sin.

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

Ba. Because St. Cyprian hath taught me, that we must believe in God alone, in whom we absolutely put all our Confidence. Whereas the Church, properly so called, although it consists of none but good Men; yet it consists of Men, who of good may become bad, who may be deceived, and deceive others.

Au. What do you think of the Communion of Saints?

Ba. This Article is not all meddled with by Cyprian, when he particularly shews what in such and such Churches is more or less used; for he thus connects them: For there followeth after this Saying, the holy Church, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of this Flesh. And some are of Opinion, that this Part does not differ from the former; but that it explains and enforces what before was called the holy Church; so that the Church is nothing else but the Profession of one God, one Gospel, one Faith, one Hope, the Participation of the same Spirit, and the same Sacraments: To be short, such a Kind of Communion of all good Things, among all godly Men, who have been from the Beginning of the World, even to the End of it, as the Fellowship of the Members of the Body is between one another. So that the good Deeds of one may help another, until they become lively Members of the Body. But out of this Society, even one's own good Works do not further his Salvation, unless he be reconcil'd to the holy Congregation; and therefore it follows, the Forgiveness of Sins; because out of the Church there is no Remission of Sins, although a Man should pine himself away with Repentance, and exercise Works of Charity. In the Church, I say, not of Hereticks, but the holy Church; that is to say, gathered by the Spirit of Christ, there is Forgiveness of Sins by Baptism, and after Baptism, by Repentence, and the Keys given to the Church.

Au. Thus far they are the Words of a Man that is sound in the Faith. Do you believe that there will be a Resurrection of the Flesh?

Ba. I should believe all the rest to no Purpose, if I did not believe this, which is the Head of all.

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

Ba. An human Body animated with a human Soul.

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

Ba. The very same from whence it went out; and therefore, in Cyprian's Creed, it is added, of this Flesh.

Au. How can it be, that the Body which hath been now so often chang'd out of one Thing into another, can rise again the same?

Ba. He who could create whatsoever he would out of nothing, is it a hard Matter for him to restore to its former Nature that which hath been changed in its Form? I don't dispute anxiously which Way it can be done; it is sufficient to me, that he who hath promised that it shall be so, is so true, that he can't lye, and so powerful, as to be able to bring to pass with a Beck, whatsoever he pleases.

Au. What need will there be of a Body then?

Ba. That the whole Man may be glorified with Christ, who, in this World, was wholly afflicted with Christ.

Au. What means that which he adds, and Life everlasting.

Ba. Lest any one should think that we shall so rise again, as the Frogs revive at the Beginning of the Spring, to die again. For here is a twofold Death of the Body, that is common to all Men, both good and bad; and of the Soul, and the Death of the Soul is Sin. But after the Resurrection, the godly shall have everlasting Life, both of Body and Soul: Nor shall the Body be then any more obnoxious to Diseases, old Age, Hunger, Thirst, Pain, Weariness, Death, or any Inconveniences; but being made spiritual, it shall be mov'd as the Spirit will have it: Nor shall the Soul be any more sollicited with any Vices or Sorrows; but shall for ever enjoy the chiefest Good, which is God himself. On the contrary, eternal Death, both of Body and Soul, shall seize upon the wicked. For their Body shall be made immortal, in order to the enduring everlasting Torments, and their Soul to be continually vexed with the Gripes of their Sins, without any Hope of Pardon.

Au. Dost thou believe these things from thy very Heart, and unfeignedly?

Ba. I believe them so certainly, I tell you, that I am not so sure that you talk with me.

Au. When I was at Rome, I did not find all so sound in the Faith.

Ba. Nay; but if you examine thoroughly, you'll find a great many others in other Places too, which do not so firmly believe these Things.

Au. Well then, since you agree with us in so many and weighty Points, what hinders that you are not wholly on our Side?

Ba. I have a mind to hear that of you: For I think that I am orthodox. Although I will not warrant for my Life yet I endeavour all I can, that it may be suitable to my Profession.

Au. How comes it about then, that there is so great a War between you and the orthodox?

Ba. Do you enquire into that: But hark you, Doctor, if you are not displeased with this Introduction, take a small Dinner with me; and after Dinner, you may enquire of every Thing at Leisure: I'll give you both Arms to feel my Pulse, and you shall see both Stool and Urine; and after that, if you please, you shall anatomize this whole Breast of mine, that you may make a better Judgment of me.

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

Ba. But Physicians use to eat with their Patients, that they might better observe what they love, and wherein they are irregular.

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

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

Au. How so?

Ba. Did not Paul wish to be made an Anathema for the Jews, which were worse than Hereticks? Does not he favour him that endeavours that a Man may be made a good Man of a bad Man?

Au. Yes, he does so.

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

Au. I never heard a sick Man answer more to the Purpose. Well, come on, let me dine with you then.

Ba. You shall be entertain'd in a physical Way, as it becomes a Doctor by his Patient, and we will so refresh our Bodies with Food, that the Mind shall be never the less fit for Disputation.

Au. Well, let it be so, with good Birds (i.e. with good Success).

Ba. Nay, it shall be with bad Fishes, unless you chance to have forgot that it is Friday.

Au. Indeed, that is beside our Creed.



The OLD MENS DIALOGUE.

The ARGUMENT.

[Greek: Terontologia], or, [Greek: Ochema], shews, as tho' it were in a Looking-glass, what Things are to be avoided in Life, and what Things contribute to the Tranquillity of Life. Old Men that were formerly intimate Acquaintance when Boys, after forty Years Absence, one from the other, happen to meet together, going to Antwerp. There seems to be a very great Inequality in them that are equal in Age. Polygamus, he is very old: Glycion has no Signs of Age upon him, tho' he is sixty six; he proposes a Method of keeping off old Age. I. He consults what Sort of Life to chuse, and follows the Advice of a prudent old Man, who persuades him to marry a Wife that was his equal, making his Choice with Judgment, before he falls in Love. 2. He has born a publick Office, but not obnoxious to troublesome Affairs. 3. He transacts Affairs that do not expose him to Envy. 4. He bridles his Tongue. 5. He is not violently fond of, nor averse to any Thing. He moderates his Affections, suffers no Sorrow to abide with him all Night. 6. He abstains from Vices, and renews his Patience every Day. 7. He is not anxiously thoughtful of Death. 8. He does not travel into foreign Countries. 9. He has nothing to do with Doctors. 10. He diverts himself with Study, but does not study himself lean. On the other hand, Polygamus has brought old Age upon him, by the Intemperance of his Youth, by Drinking, Whoring, Gaming, running in Debt; he had had eight Wives. Pampirus, he becomes a Merchant; but consumes all he has by Gaming; then he becomes a Canon; then a Carthusian; after that a Benedictine; and last of all, turns Soldier. Eusebius, he gets a good Benefice and preaches.

EUSEBIUS, PAMPIRUS, POLYGAMUS, GLYCION, HUGUITIO, and HARRY the Coachman.

Euseb. What new Faces do I see here? If I am not mistaken, or do not see clear, I see three old Companions sitting by me; Pampirus, Polygamus and Glycion; they are certainly the very same.

Pa. What do you mean, with your Glass Eyes, you Wizard? Pray come nearer a little, Eusebius.

Po. Hail, heartily, my wish'd for Eusebius.

Gl. All Health to you, the best of Men.

Eu. One Blessing upon you all, my dear Friends. What God, or providential Chance has brought us together now, for I believe none of us have seen the one the other, for this forty Years. Why Mercury with his Mace could not have more luckily brought us together into a Circle; but what are you doing here?

Pa. We are sitting.

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

Po. We wait for the Antwerp Waggon.

Eu. What, are you going to the Fair?

Po. We are so: but rather Spectators, than Traders, tho' one has one Business, and another has another.

Eu. Well, and I am going thither myself too. But what hinders you, that you are not going?

Po. We han't agreed with the Waggoner yet.

Eu. These Waggoners are a surly Sort of People; but are you willing that we put a Trick upon them?

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

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

Po. They'll sooner believe that a Crab-Fish will fly, than that such heavy Fellows as we will take such a Journey on Foot.

Eu. Will you follow good wholsome Advice?

Po. Yes, by all Means.

Gl. They are a drinking, and the longer they are fuddling, the more Danger we shall be in of being overturned in the Dirt.

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

Gl. Let us hire the Waggon for us four by ourselves, that we may get to Antwerp the sooner: It is but a little more Charge, not worth minding, and this Expence will be made up by many Advantages; we shall have the more Room, and shall pass the Journey the more pleasantly in mutual Conversation.

Po. Glycion is much in the Right on't. For good Company in a Journey does the Office of a Coach; and according to the Greek Proverb, we shall have more Liberty of talking, not about a Waggon, but in a Waggon.

Gl. Well, I have made a Bargain, let us get up. Now I've a Mind to be merry, seeing I have had the good Luck to see my old dear Comrades after so long a Separation.

Eu. And methinks I seem to grow young again.

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

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

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

Eu. We were so, pretty near the Matter, for if there was any Difference it was very little.

Pa. But what a great Difference does there seem to be now? For Glycion has nothing of an old Man about him, and Polygamus looks old enough to be his Grandfather.

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

Pa. What? Why either the one loiter'd and stopp'd in his Course, or the other run faster (out-run him).

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

Po. Come, tell us, Glycion truly, how many Years do you number?

Gl. More than Ducats in my Pocket.

Po. Well, but how many?

Gl. Threescore and six.

Eu. Why thou'lt never be old.

Po. But by what Arts hast thou kept off old Age? for you have no grey Hairs, nor Wrinkles in your Skin, your Eyes are lively, your Teeth are white and even, you have a fresh Colour, and a plump Body.

Gl. I'll tell you my Art, upon Condition you'll tell us your Art of coming to be old so soon.

Po. I agree to the Condition. I'll do it. Then tell us whither you went when you left Paris.

Gl. I went directly into my own Country, and by that Time I had been there almost a Year, I began to bethink myself what Course of Life to chuse; which I thought to be a Matter of great Importance, as to my future Happiness; so I cast my Thoughts about what had been successful to some, and what had been unsuccessful to others.

Po. I admire you had so much Prudence, when you were as great a Maggot as any in the World, when you were at Paris.

Gl. Then my Age did permit a little Wildness. But, my good Friend, you must know, I did not do all this neither of my own mother-Wit.

Po. Indeed I stood in Admiration.

Gl. Before I engaged in any Thing, I applied to a certain Citizen, a Man of Gravity, of the greatest Prudence by long Experience, and of a general Reputation with his fellow Citizens, and in my Opinion, the most happy Man in the World.