SEVEN New Colloquies Translated out of Erasmus Roterodamus. As also the LIFE OF ERASMUS.  
By Mr. Brown.  
LONDON, Printed for Charles Brome at the Gun at the West-End of St. Paul's Churchyard. 1699.   

THE LIFE OF ERASMUS.  
ERasmus, so deservedly famous for his admirable Writings, the vast extent of his Learning, his great Candour and Moderation, and for being one of the chief Restorers of the Purity of the Latin Tongue on this side the Alps, was Born at Rotterdam on the 28th of October in the Year 1467. Indeed the anonymous Author of his Life, commonly Printed at the end of his Colloquies (of the London Edition) is pleased to tell us, that de anno, quo natus est apud Batavos, non constat, and if himself writ the Life, which we find before the Elzevir Edition, and is there said to be Erasmo Autore, he does not particularly mention the Year in which he was Born, but places it circa annum 67 supra millesimum quadringentesimum. Another Latin Life which is prefixed to the abovementioned London Edition in Octavo, fixes it in the Year 1465, as likewise does his Epitaph at Basil. But as the Inscription of his Statue at Rotterdam, the Place of his Nativity, may reasonably be supposed to be the most Authentic Testimony, we have here thought fit to follow that.  
His Mother's Name was Margaret, Daughter to one Peter a Physician, Born at Sevenbergen in Holland; his Father's Name Gerard, who entertained a private Correspondence with Her upon promise of Marriage, and was actually contracted to her, as the life which carries Ersumus' Name before, it, seems to insinuate by these words, sunt qui intercessisse verba dicunt. 
* 'Tis not to be denied but that Erasmus was a Bastard, but his Enemies have published some invidious circumstances about his Birth, that are false; as for instance, that his Father was Parson of Tergou when he begot him. Pontus Heuterus calls him by the same error fils de prêtre. Father Theophile Raynaud has this pleasant passage. If, says he, one may be allowed to droll upon a Man, that drolled upon all the World, Erasmus though he was not the Son of a King, yet he was the Son of a crowned Head, meaning a Priest; but 'tis plain his Father was not in Orders at that time.  His Father was the youngest of Ten Brothers, without one Sister coming between, for which reason, the Old People according to the Superstition of those times, designed to consecrate him to the Church, and his Brothers liked the motion well enough, because, as the Churchmen then governed all, they hoped, if he thrived upon his Profession, to have a sure Friend where they might Eat, and Drink, and make merry upon occasion; but no importunities whatever could prevail upon Gerard to turn Ecclesiastic. Thus finding himself perpetually pressed upon so ungrateful an Argument, and not able any longer to bear it, he was forced in his own defence to shift his Quarters and fly for it; leaving a Letter for his Friends upon the Road, wherein he acquainted them with the reason of his departure, and concluded that he would never trouble them any more. Thus he left his Spouse that was to be, big with Child, and made the best of his way to Rome. In this City he maintained himself very handsomely by his Pen, at which he was an admirable Master, transcribing most Authors of note (for Printing was not then known, 
* So says the Life with Erasmo Auctore before it, but 'tis most certainly a mistake, for Printing was found out in the Year 1442. which was at least 24 Years before this, but perhaps he means, that tho' the invention was known it was not commonly used.  tum nondum ars Typographorum erat) and for some time lived at large, as young Fellows use to do, but afterwards applied himself seriously to his Studies, made a great progress in the Greek and Latin Languages, as likewise in the Civil Law; which he had the better opportunity of doing, because Rome at that time was full of Learned Men, and because as has been intimated before, his necessities obliged him to transcribe Books for his Livelihood, and consequently must impress them strongly in his memory. When his Friends knew that he was at Rome, they sent him word that the Young Gentlewoman, whom he Courted for a Wife, was dead, which he believing to be true, in a melancholy fit took Orders, and wholly turned his Thoughts to the Study of Divinity. When he returned to his Native Country, he found to his grief that he had been imposed upon, however it was too late then to think of Marriage; so he dropped all farther pretensions to his Mistress, neither would she after this unlucky adventure be induced to Marry.  
His Son from him took the Name of Gerard, which in the Germane Language signifies Amiable, and after the fashion of the Learned Men of that Age, who affected to give their Names either a Greek or Latin turn, (as for instance Oecolampadius, Crinitus, Melancthon, Pontanus, Theocrenius, Pelargus, etc.) he turned it into Desiderius (Didier) which in Latin, and into Erasmus, which in Greek has the same force and signification. He was Chorister of the Cathedral Church of Utrecht, till he was Nine Years Old, after which he was sent to Deventer, to be instructed by the famous Alexander Hegius, a Westphalian, an intimate Friend to the Learned Rodolphus Agricola then newly returned out of Italy, and who from him had learned the Greek Tongue, which Rodolphus first brought from the other side of the Mountains into Germany. Under so able a Master he proved an extraordinary 
* There is an ill-grounded Tradition in Holland, that Erasmus was a dull Boy and slow to Learn, which if it were true would be no dishonour to him, no more than it is to Thomas Aquinas or Suarez, of whom the same thing is reported, but Monsieur Bale has shown the vanity of this Story. Vie d' Erasme.  Proficient, and 'tis remarkable that he had so prodigious a Memory, that he was able to say all Terence and Horace by heart. All this while he was under the watchful Eye of his Mother, who died of the Plague then raging at Deventer, he being then about Thirteen Years Old, which cruel Contagion daily increasing, and having swept away the Family where he boarded, he was obliged to return home. His Father Gerard was so concerned at her Death, that he grew Melancholy upon it and died soon after, neither of his Parents being much above 40 when they deceased. Erasmus had three Guardians assigned him, the chief of whom was Peter Winkel, Schoolmaster of Goude, and the Fortune that was left him might have supported him handsomely enough, if the Executors had faithfully discharged their trust. By them he was removed to Boisledue, though he was at that time fit for the University, but the trusties were utterly averse to send him thither, because they designed him for a Monastic Life. Here, as he himself owns, he lost very near Three Years, Living in a Franciscan Convent, where one Rombold taught Humanity, who was exceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Boy, and daily importuned him to take the Habit upon him, and make one of their number. The Boy alleged the rawness of his Age as a sufficient excuse; and upon the spreading of the Plague into these Parts, after he had struggled a long while with a Quartan Ague, he returned to his Guardians, having by this time arrived to an indifferent good Style, by his daily reading of the best Classic Authors. The abovementioned raging Distemper had carried off one of his Guardians; and the other two having managed his Fortune with none of the greatest care, began to consider how to fix him in some Monastery. Erasmus, who was not as yet fully recovered from his Ague, had no great inclinations for the Cloister, not that he had the least disrelish to the severities of a pious Life, but he could not easily reconcile himself to the Monastic Profession, for which reason he he desired some farther time to consider better of the matter.  
All this while his Guardians employed the People about him to use all manner of arguments to bring him over, who sometimes threatened him with the fatal consequences he must Expect in case of a denial, and sometimes altered their language and endeavoured to effect their designs by flattery and fair Speeches. In this interim they found out a place for him in 
* Moreri in his Dictionary pretends that he took the habit of a Canon Regular of St. Austin in this Monastery; but 'tis a mistake. Guy Patin fell into a contrary error, when he said that he never was a Monk for Erasmus; ownt it not only in his Life Written by himsef, but likewise in a Letter to Lambert Grunnius.  Zion, a College of Canons Regulars, and the principal House belonging to that Chapter not far from Delft, When the Day came in which he was to give his final answer, the young Man fairly told them, that he neither knew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet what himself was, and therefore humbly conceived it to be more adviseable to pass a few years more at School, till he was better acquainted with himself. When Winkel his Guardian found him not to be moved from this resolution, he told him, that he had spent his time, to a fine purpose, in making of friends and employing all his Interest to procure this preferment for an obstinate Boy, that knew not what was convenient for him. But, continues he, since I find you are possessed with a Spirit of obstinacy, even take what follows for your pains, I throw up my Guardian-ship from this moment, and now you may maintain yourself. Young Erasmus immediately replied that he took him at his word, since he was old enough now to look out for himself. When the other found that threatening signified nothing, he underhand employed his Brother, who was the other a Guardian, to see what he could do by fair means. Thus he was surrounded by them and their Agents on all hands, his Ague still kept close to him, yet for all this a Monastic Life would not go down with him. At last by mere accident he went to visit a Religious House belonging to the same Order in Emaus, or Steyn near Goude, where it was his fortune to meet with one Cornelius, who had been his Chamber-fellow at Deventer. Since that time he had travelled into Italy, but without making any great improvements in his Learning, and tho' he had not then taken the Sacred Habit upon him, yet with all the Eloquence he was Master of, he was perpetually preaching up the mighty advantages of a Religious Life, such as the convenience of noble Libraries, the helps of learned Conversation, the retiring from the Noise and Folly of the world, and the like. At, the same time others were employed to talk the same Language to him; Besides his old Persecutor the Ague continued to torment him, and thus at last he was induced to pitch upon this Convent. Upon his admission they fed him with great Promises to engage him to take the Holy Cloth; but tho' he found every thing almost fell vastly short of his Expectation here, yet partly his Necessities joined with his Modesty, and partly the ill Usage he was threatened with, in Case he abandoned their Order, obliged him after his Year of Probation was expired, to profess himself a Member of their Fraternity. Not long after this he had the Honour to be known to Henry à Bergis Bishop of Cambray, who having some hopes of obtaining a Cardinal's Hat, in which Design he had certainly succeeded, had not his Money, the never-failing recommender to the Sacred Purple, been deficient, wanted one that was a Master of the Latin Tongue, to solicit this Affair for him. For this Reason he was taken into the Bishop's Family, where he wore the Habit of his Order, but finding his Patron, who was disappointed of the Promotion he expected at Rome, fickle and wavering in his Affections, he prevailed with him to send him to Paris, to prosecute his Studies in that famous University, with the Promise of an annual Allowance, which however was never paid him, after the Mode of great Persons, who think their Quality excuses them from being Vassals to their word. He was admitted into Montague College, where by ill Diet, and a damp Chamber he contracted an Indisposition, which obliged him to return to the Bishop, by whom he was very Courteously and Honourably entertained. He no sooner found himself reestablished in his Health, but he made a journey into Holland, intending to settle there, but he was persuaded at the instance of his Friends to go a second time to Paris, where having no Patron to support him, he rather made a shift to live (if I may use his own Expression) than could be said to study. After this he visited England in Company with a young Gentleman, a Pupil of his, but who to use his own Expression, was rather his Friend than his Patron. Here he was received with universal Respect, and as it appears by several of his Letters, he honoured it next to the place of his 
a Epist. 19 l 2.  Nativity. In one of them addressed to 
b Epist. 10. 1. 5.  Andrelinus, he invites him to come into England, if it were only upon the Score of the charming Beauties with which that Island abounded He pleasantly describes to him the innocent Freedom and Complaisance of the English Ladies. When you come into a Gentleman's house, says he, you are allowed the Favour to salute them, and you do the same when you take your Leave. Upon this Subject he Talks very feelingly, but without making any injust reflections upon the Virtue of our Women, as several Foreigners, and particularly the French Writers, have impudently done. It appears that Learning flourished exceedingly in England when Erasmus was here 
c Epist. 10. l. 16.  Apud Anglos triumphant bonae literae, recta studia. Nay he does not doubt in 
d Epist. 12. l: 16.  another Letter, to put it in the same Scale with Italy itself, 
e Epist. 26. l. 6.  and particularly commends the English Nobility for their great Application to all useful Learning, and entertaining themselves at their Tables with learned Discourses; whereas nothing but Ribbaldry and Profaneness made up the Table-talk of the Churchmen. He tells us himself in his own Life, that he won the Affections of all 
* He was particularly acquainted with Sir Tho. Mors. Colet Dean of Paul's; Grocinus, Linscar, Laeimer, etc. and passed some years in Cambridge.  good Men in our Island during his Residence here, and particularly for an Act of Generosity, which cannot be enough commended. As he was going for France, it was his ill Fortune at Dover to be stripped of all he had about him, however he was so far from revenging this Injury, by reflecting upon our Nation, which that haughty Censurer Julius Scaliger afterwards did upon no Provocation in a most brutal manner; that he immediately Published a Book in praise of the King and Nation. However not meeting the Preferment which he expected, he made a Voyage to Italy, which Country at that time could boast of a Set of learned Men, and a vein of Learning little inferior to that of the Augustan Age. He took his Doctor of Divinity's Degree in the University of Turin, tarried above a Year in Bolognia, and afterwards went to Venice, where he Published his Book of Adages in the famous Aldus' Printing-house. From thence he removed to Milan, and last of all came to Rome, where his great Merits had made his Presence expected long before his Arrival. He soon gained the Esteem and Friendship of all the considerable Persons of that City, either for their Quality or their Learning, and could not have failed of making his Fortune there, if his Friends in England upon the coming of Henry the VIIIth. to the Crown had not by their great Promises prevailed with him to leave Italy for England. Here he intended to have settled for the remainder of his Life, had these Gentlemen been as good as their words to him, but whether Erasmus was wanting to make his Court aright to Wolsey who carried all before him, or whether that Cardinal looked with a jealous Eye upon him, because Warham Archbishop of Canterbury, between whom and Wolsey there was perpetual clashing, had taken him into his Favour, as appeared by his bestowing the Living of Aldington in Kent upon him; 'tis certain that upon this Disappointment he went to Flanders, where by the Interest of the Chancellor Sylvagius, he was made Counsellor to Charles of Austria, who was afterwards so well known in the World, by the Name of Charles the Fifth Emperor of Germany. He resided several Years at Basil, chiefly for the sake of Frobenius, a Learned and Eminent Printer, to whose Son he Dedicated his Book of Colloquies, and Published several Books there; but so soon as the Reformers had abolished the Mass in that City, he left it, and retired to Friburg, a Town of Alsace, where he lived seven Years in great Esteem and Reputation, not only with all Persons of any Note in the University, but with the chief Magistrates of the Place, and all the Citizens in general. He was at last obliged to leave this City upon the account of his Health, and returned to Basil. His Distemper was the Gout, which after a tedious Persecution left him; but he was soon seized by a new Enemy, the Dysentery, under which having laboured very near a whole Month, he 
* The Author of Les delices d'Hollande, speaking of Rotterdam, says, that Erasmusy nasquit l'an 1467, & mourut à Fribourg en Alsace, which latter is false; for 'tis certain he died in Basil.  died on the 12th of July 1536, about Midnight, in the House of Jerome Frobenius, Son to John the Famous Printer, abovementioned, having by his Will appointed Amberbachius an eminent Civilian, Nicolaus Episcopus, and his Landlord Frobenius, his Executors, and ordered what he left behind him, to be laid out, in Relieving of the Aged and Impotent, in giving Portions to Poor young Maidens, in Maintaining of hopeful Students at the University, and the like Charitable Uses. He was honourably Interred, and the City of Basil still pays him that Respect which is due to the Memory of so Excellent a Person; for not only one of the Colleges there goes by his Name, but they show all Strangers the House where he Died, with as much Veneration, as the People of Rotterdam do the House where he was Born.  
Having thus briefly run over the most material Passages of his Life, I come now to consider him in his Character and Writings. He was the most Facetious Man of his Age, and the most judicious Critic, which are two Talents that as seldom meet together in the same Person, as Pedantry and good Manners. He carried on a Reformation in Learning, at the same time as he advanced that of Religion, and promoted a Purity and Simplicity of Style as well as of Worship. This drew upon him the Hatred of the Ecclesiastics, who were no less bigoted to their Barbarisms in Language and Philosophy, than they were to their injust innovations in the Church. They Murdered him over and over in their dull Treatises, Libelled him in their wretched Sermons, and what was the last and highest Effort of their Maliee, practised a piece of Mezentius' Cruelty upon him, and joined some of their own dead execrable Stuff to his Compositions; of which barbarous Usage he himself complains in an Epistle Addressed to the Divines of Louvain. He exposed with great Freedom the Vices and Corruptions of his own Church, yet for all that could never be induced to leave the Communion in which he was Bred, which may be imputed to his great Candour and Moderation, or else to the ill Management, and furious Proceedings of the first Reformers in Germany, which cannot be defended: Thus by the common Fate of all Peacemakers, while he honestly and Charitably intended to do all good Offices to both Parties, he was most undeservedly Worried and Persecuted by both. Perhaps no Man has obliged the Public with a greater number of useful Volumes than our Author, not like his Countrymen, the Modern Dutch Writers, who visit Frankfort Fair once a Year, with two or three Stupid Mum-begotten Dissertations, that die of themselves, before they can be said to have ever lived. Every thing that comes from him instructs and pleases, and may as easily be known by the masterly Strokes, as his Friend Hans Holben's Pieces by the boldness of the Paint, and the freshness of the Colours. However he was supposed to be the Author of several Books he never Writ, which has been the case of a hundred Writers, both before and after him, as the Captivitas Babylonica, Eubulus, Lamentationes Petri, a satire of Huttenus, called Nemo, Febris, Sir T. More's Utopia, and several others. It has been commonly believed in England, that the Epistolae obscurorum Virorum were of his Writing, but the Learned Monsieur Bale assures us of the contrary, who says, that the Reading of it put him into such a Fit of Laughter, that it broke an Impostume, which was ready to be cut. I will not here pretend to give a Catalogue of all his Genuine Pieces, which they show at Basil, but shall confine myself to his Book of Colloquies, which together with his Moriae Encomium has seen more Editions than any other of his Works. Moreri tells us that a Bookseller of Paris, who it seems throughly understood the Mystery of his Trade, sold Twenty Four Thousand of them at one Impression, by a Trick which has since been frequently Practised by those of his Profession; for he got it whispered to his Customers that the Book was Prohibited, and would suddenly be called in, and this helped to give it so prodigious a Run.  
2. The Dialogue way of Writing, in which Erasmus has succeeded so happily, owes its Birth to the Drama. Plato took it from the Theatre, and if I may be allowed the Expression, Consecrated it to the Service of Philosophy, but with all due Respect to Plato's Memory be it said, tho' his Management is extremely Fine and Artificial, yet his Diction is too Poetical, and his Metaphors are too bold and rampant. The Language of Dialogue ought to sit loose and free, the Translations ought to be Easie and Natural; whereas Plato's Expression comes nearer to that of Poetry, than Comedy itself. Tully who has treated several Subjects in this way, cannot indeed be charged with any such Tumour of Style, yet he wants that which is the Life and Spirit of Dialogue, I mean a beautiful turn, and quickness of Conversation. But the greatest Genius of all Antiquity, as to this manner of Writing, is Lucian, whose Language is easy and negligent but pure; his Repartees are lively and agreeable, and to say the truth, every one that hopes to manage this Province well, aught to propose to himself Lucian for a Copy to Write after. If what some Ecclesiastical Writers have reported of him be true, that he Apostatised from the Christian Religion, he made it some amends however by his admirable Dialogues; for 'tis a plain Case that the Primitive Fathers battered the Pagan Theology with Artillery drawn out of his Magazines, and entered the Garrison through the Breaches which he had made to their Hands. He Raillies with the Air and Gaiety of a Gentleman, and at the same time Writes with all the justice of a Philosopher, whenever his Argument requires it, and this happy mixture of Serious and Ridicule, makes him so eternally entertaining, that the Reader still rises from him with a Gust. Far be it from me to defend him in every Particular; but this Testimony is due to him even from an Enemy, and if I have dwelled so long upon him, 'tis to be considered that Erasmus, who Translated part of him into Latin, made him his Pattern, and indeed has Copied his Graces with such Success, that 'tis difficult to say which of the two is the Original.  
3. Both of them had an equal Aversion to Sullen, Austere, designing Knaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever: Both of them were Men of Wit and satire, and employed it as Righteously as the old Heroes did their Arms, in beating down the crying Grievances of their Times, in Deposing Superstition the worst of Tyrants, and disarming Hypocrisy the basest of Vices. But the Hollander, according to the Genius of his Country, had more of the Humourist in him than the Syrian, and in all Parts of Learning was infinitely his Superior. It was Lucian's Fate to live in an Age, when Fiction and Fable had Usurped the Name of Religion, and Morality was Debauched by a set of sour Scoundrils, Men of Beard and Grimace, but scandalously Lewd and Ignorant, who yet had the Impudence to Preach up Virtue, and Style themselves Philosophers; perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of their several Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if 'tis possible about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in a different way to dupe and amuse the poor People, by the Fantastic Singularity of their Habits, the Unintelligible jargon of their Schools, and their Pretensions to a severe and mortified Life. This motley Herd of jugglers, Lucian in a great Measure helped to Chase out of the World, by exposing them in their proper Colours; but in a few Ages after him a new Generation sprung up in the World, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from the former in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in the main the same individual Impostors; the same everlasting Cobwebspinners, as to their nonsensical Controversies, the same abandoned Rakehells as to their Morals, but as for the mysterious Arts of heaping up Wealth, and picking the People's Pockets, as much Superior to their Predecessors the Pagan Philosophers, as an overgrown Favourite that cheats a whole Kingdom is to a common Malefactor. These were the Sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices Erasmus has so effectually lashed, that some Countries have entirely turned these Drones out of their Cells, and in other places where they are still kept up, they are Contemptible to the highest Degree, and obliged to be always upon their Guard.  
4. Before I dismiss this Parallel, it may not be amiss to observe that Erasmus has so Religiously imitated Lucian, that perhaps he has carried it to Excess, and Copied his Master even to a Fault: I mean in the frequent use of old Adages, most of which, tho' Poignant enough in Lucian's Time, have lost all manner of Relish with us, and therefore I have wholly omitted them in my Translation, or Substituted others that are better understood in their room. This I know will be called false Doctrine by a modern 
* See Dr. Bently's Preface to his Answer to Mr. boil. p. 87.  Grammarian, who pretends that a Man may cite them in his Works, without being guilty of the Sin of Pedantry, and justifies his Assertion by the Examples of Cato, Tully, Plutarch, and Lucian. 'Tis true indeed, those worthy Gentlemen frequently use them, and were no Pedunts for doing so, but with the Doctor's leave I will make bold to affirm, that what they might commendably use, who lived upon the spot where these proverbial Expressions grew, and could tell the History of them without the help of a Germane Commentator, would be rank lousy▪ Pedantry for us to follow them in, who either know nothing of the true occasion, or if we do, live at too great a distance of time to be much affected with the Wit of them. The Ruff and Farthingale of venerable Memory, were no doubt on't a very laudable Dress, when they were the common Fashion of the Town, but should any Lady at this time of day, out of her singular Respect to Queen Elizabeth, wear them in the Mall, or the side Box, I am afraid she would be soon laughed out of this Ridiculous Affectation of Antiquity. I own that true Wit will be eternally so to the end of the World; but the Garniture and Trimming of it, under which Class we may reckon Proverbial Allusions, and the Similes in our Comedies, depend much on the Humour of the Times, and the Genius of the Country, and still vary with the Age; so that what passes for a jest in France or Holland, we see is received but indifferently with us in England, who don't understand the true Rise of it, nay what pleases us now, I dare engage will not find that welcome twenty Years hence. But it has been the constant Fault of the Grammarians in all Countries of the World, that in order to force a Trade, they must affect to Write so Learnedly, that is so obscurely, that they want another Grammarian to explain them to the generality of their Readers, and the Reason of it is plain, because they Write not to Instruct, but to make a Pompous, though impertinent show of their own Learning.  
I have already observed that Erasmus drew abundance of Enemies upon himself by his Writings, some of whom Attacked him, because he touched them in their most sensible Part, their Interest; Others out of Vanity, that it might be said they had entered the Lists with a Person of his Reputation. And lastly, some out of downright Malice and Envy. The Monks, who had Bellies one would have thought large enough to have some Bowels in them, could never forgive him for exposing their Luxury and Avarice, their pretended Visions and Revelations, with the rest of their pious Artifices. The Lutherans had a Quarrel to him, because he was not one of their Party, and perhaps Erasmus, who spared the Follies of neither side, might disgust them, by making bold now and then with their great Patriarch of Wittenberg. I remember I have some where Read, that when Erasmus was told that Luther, out of his great desire for an Armful of Consecrated Flesh, had Married, and got the Famous Catharine Bora with Child; he should in a jesting manner say, that if according to the popular Tradition, Antichrist was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, the World was in a fair way now to have a Litter of Antichrists. Such innocent Freedoms as these, which might fall from a Man of Wit without any Malice, I doubt not but Incensed those of the Reformation, who like the rest of the World were apt to put the worst Construction upon every thing that seemed to Reflect upon them: But none of his Enemies fell upon him with that unpresidented Rancour and Spleen, as the Prince of Pedants Scaliger the Father. I know I shall incur the Displeasure of the abovementioned 
* See Dr. Bently's Preface, p. 101.  Grammarian, for giving this Character to a Man, of whom he has said so many magnificent things, but before I have concluded this Paragraph, I hope to convince him that his Hero deserves it. The occasion of the Quarrel, in short, was as follows. Erasmus had been so ill-advised, as to expose the Superstition of the Ciceronians, a set of Rhetorical Sir Formal Trifles, who, (as Monsieur Bale pleasantly expresses himself) thought there was no Salvation for poor Latin out of the Pale of Cicero's Works. Upon this Scaliger declared War against Erasmus, Rails at him in an Oration composed for that purpose, with the same Vehemence and Fierceness, as if he had designed nothing less than the Extirpation of all good Learning, and was actually marching at the Head of a Hundred Thousand Goths, to destroy all the Libraries in Christendom. He calls him Sot and Drunkard, and says, that when he was Corrector to Aldus' Press, a thousand Faults escaped him, merely upon the account of his Drunkenness. In a Letter not Published, but for the Scurrility of it Suppressed by his Son Joseph, he calls him Son of a Whore. I appeal now to the Reader, whether any thing can excuse such insufferable Brutality, and ill-manners; or whether if this be the effect of Learning, a Man has not good Reason to say with Nero, Quam vellem me nescire literas. If the Scaligeriana are the Genuine Sayings of the Person, whose Name they bear, this Quarrel is accounted for otherwise; for Scaliger there tells us that his Father had Written an Oration against Erasmus, which the latter could not believe was of his Father's Writing, quià miles erat, because he was of the Military Profession; that his Father Resented this so heinously, that it drew a second Oration from him, which Erasmus got his Friends to buy up, and burned them all; so that now 'tis no where to be had. And indeed if Erasmus had any Foible, he showed it perhaps in his being too sensibly touched at the Libels that were Written against him, as it appears by the 
* Epist. 3. l. 21.  Complaints he makes of the Printers of them. However it be, 'tis our Comfort that Erasmus is not the only Person, whose Fortune it was to fall under Scaliger's Displeasure. The same Man has called Horace's Latin in question, condemned his Art of Poetry, and censured Aristotle's Rules. The same Man, (for with him like Zimri in Absalon, every one is either a God or a Devil, but generally speaking they are Devils) has said that all Ovid's slippery Stuff 
* Lubricitas.  is not to be compared with that single Epithalamium of Catullus upon Thetis' Marriage, and that all Hesiods Works ought not to be put in the same Scale with one line in the Georgics. The same Man has rogantly Damned Lucan and Silius in a Breath, who was himself one of the most awkward unnatural Versifiers of his Age, and pretended to mend Ovid's Poetry, which he has done to as much purpose as Parson Milburn has mended Mr. Dryden's Translation of Virgil. The same Man has used Cardan worse than the most contemptible Insect in Nature, without any Provocation, in the very same Book, which he Dedicated to him, tho' the Lord knows there was no such mighty difference between them, as to their Philosophy; and has found Errors in Cicero's and Gellius' Critics, who to show the goodness of his own, preferred the present Musaeus to Homer. Lastly, the same Man, (to give an Instance of his great Sincerity, as we have given several of his singular Humanity,) pretends that he Writ his Galliambic Hymn upon Bacchus, in less than two hours, amidst a thousand other Occupations that distracted him, which is as notorious a Truth, as any in Dr. Bently's Preface. Yet this is the mighty Man, whom in Conjunction with Salmasius, the aforesaid Dr. would palm upon us for the greatest Men of their Age, and what is very surprising, for the Ornaments of the Reformation, who by their Influence and Example gave such a Spirit of Learning to it, 
Ibid. p. 102.  as made it Triumph over its Enemies; with a great deal of Rhetorical Fustian to the same purpose. What great Services Scaliger did to the Reformed Religion, I would desire to be informed; and as for the other Mercenary Wretch, 'tis true he played his small Shot at the Pope's Primacy, but at the same time, as far as in him lay, struck at the whole Episcopal Order, for which I hope Dr. Bently will not thank him, and afterwards was shamefully bribed to lick up his own spital. But Providence that delights to humble the Proud, raised up two Men afterwards to Chaftise this wonderful pair of Assumers: For Milton, tho' Inferior to Salmasius in the Righteousness of his Cause, yet with all these Disadvantages so effectually foiled him that he broke his Heart; and Schioppius, who was as errand a Grammarian as any of the Tribe, fell foul upon both the Scaligers, and visited the Iniquities of the Father upon the Son, who in truth did not deserve it. This is all I have at present to say of Erasmus, being obliged to reserve what I have farther to offer upon this Subject, for the Dissertation I intent to prefix to the new Translation of Lucian's Works, done by several Gentlemen, which will be handed to the Press with all convenient speed.   

THE Impertinents, or the Cross Purposes.  
COL. I.  
Two odd ill-contrived Fellows meet one another in the Street, and to talking they fall; one has his Head full of a Marriage, and the other's Thoughts run upon a Storm: In short, they Discourse with great Concern on both sides, and make nothing on't, only they fulfil the English Proverb between them, I talk of Chalk, and you of Cheese.  These Six Colloquies done by Mr. Brown, 
The Translator of the following Colloquies, tho' he keeps his Author still in sight, yet does not pretend to have made a literal Translation of him, and where Erasmus alludes to old Adages (as frequently he does) or where the jest runs upon a turn in the Latin Tongue, which would be entirely lost in an English Version, he has made bold to Substitute something of his own in the room of it, in order to make it more agreeable to the Palate of the English Reader, for whose Diversion it was designed.  Annius. Lucius. ANN. 
Why? I hear you were Drunk as Lords all of you at Neighbour what d'ye call him's Wedding yesterday.  Luc. 
The Deuce take me if ever I knew such confounded Wether at Sea, tho' I have used it from my Cradle.  Ann. 
So I find you had a world of brave Folks to see the Ceremony.  Luc. 
Fore George, (you make me Swear now) I never ran such a risk of drowning in my life before.  Ann. 
Ay, ay, see what 'tis to be Rich, at my Wedding, tho' I sent again and again to all my Neighbours, yet only some half a dozen would come near me, and those but sorry Wretches, the Lord knows.  Luc. 
Mind me, I say, we were no sooner got off of the Land's end, but it blowed as if it would blow the Devil's Head off.  Ann. 
God so! that was wonderful pretty, and were there then so many fine Lords and Ladies to throw the Stocking?  Luc. 
Comes me immediately a sudden Gust of Wind, and whips off the Sail, while you could drink a Can of Flipp, and tears it into a thousand Flitters, I warrant ye.  Ann. 
You need not describe the Bride to me. Why? Lord, I knew the pretty Baggage when she was no taller than—  Luc. 
sauce comes another Wave and runs away with the Rudder.  Ann. 
Nay, all the World are of your Opinion, she's an Angel Incarnate, that's certain; and the Bridegroom, let me tell you is a handsome young Fellow of his Inches.  Luc. 
Well! And done't you think we were in a blessed taking then?  Ann. 
Right I faith. Not one Woman in a thousand as you observe, brings such a Fortune to her Husband.  Luc. 
So we Manned out the Longboat, and were forced to Row for't.  Ann. 
The Devil she did! Why? That was a Portion for a Princess.  Luc. 
To see now what damned Luck attended us! We popped out of one Danger into the Chaps of another.  Ann. 
Nay, they may even thank themselves for't. What the plague made them Marry so tender a Creature to such a boisterous young Whoreson?  Luc. 
A French Privateer made all the Sail she could after us.  Ann. 
Good again, let me die else. Young Girls long to be trying Experiments, and a willing Mind you know is all in all.  Luc. 
So now we had two Enemies at a time to deal with, a raging Sea, and these French Rascals.  Ann. 
Good, Heavens, so many rich Presents made her! Had she been a poor Body, I dare pawn my Life for it, her Friends would not have given her the worth of a silver Bodkin.  Luc. 
What! would you have had us struck Sail to them? That had been a good Jest I now. No, Il gad they were mistaken in their Men, I'll tell you but so much.  Ann. 
Nay, if what you say be true, the Bridegroom had best speak no more on't, but put his Horns in his Pocket.  Luc. 
Every Man of us took his Cogue or two of Nants, and prepared for the Fight.  Ann. 
To see how we may be deceived now! That such a demure Sparrow-mouthed Devil should take up a Stone in her Ear so soon?  Luc. 
Had you seen this Engagement, take my word for't, you'd have said I laid about me like a Hero.  Ann. 
So then as far as I can judge of the Matter, the young Fellow has brought his Hogs to a fair Market.  Luc. 
Without ask more Questions, we fairly boarded the Monsieur.  Ann. 
But is it not an odd Business that they should invite you who are a perfect Stranger to them, and forget me, one of the nearest Relations the Bride has in the World?  Luc. 
Right or wrong we flung our Frenchmen into the Sea.  Ann. 
Troth Neighbour you say right, a Man in Adversity is abandoned by all the World.  Luc. 
After this we honestly divided the Booty between us.  Ann. 
Come, you need not provoke me to't, I know how to be angry upon occasion, the next time I see the Bride, odsooks I'll rattle both her Ears for't.  Luc. 
On a sudden the Sea grew so calm, you'd have taken it for a bowling Green.  Ann. 
For if she has Money, I have a stomachful Spirit, let me tell you, and a Fig for her Kindness.  Luc. 
In fine we brought a brace of Vessels into Harbour instead of one.  Ann. 
And let her Husband take it as he pleases, what a plague care I?  Luc. 
Oh! you ask where I am a going, Why? to St. Nichola's Church yonder, to thank the honest Saint for keeping me out of the Suds.  Ann. 
No, pray excuse me dear Sir, I can't go with you to, the Tavern now; I expect a Set of jovial Fellows to drink a Bowl of Punch with me at home, but at any other time you may command me. Adieu.   

THE Modish Traveller.  
COL. II.  
The Calamitous Effects of War. The Ambition of Princes the cause of most Disturbances in the World. Churchmen who ought to Preach up Peace, promote these Disorders. The latter part of this Colloquy is wholly the Translator's, who took the hint from a late Learned Voyage to Paris, by one of the Royal Society.  George. Martin. GEO. 
Well, and what sort of a Voyage had you of it, old Friend?  Mar. 
Good enough, but that the Roads were so plaguily pestered with Highway men.  Geo. 
You must expect that after a War; 'tis impossible to help it, but dear Companion of mine how stand Affairs in France?  Mar. 
In none of the most settled Condition; there are great Preparations on Foot for another War; now what Mischief the French may be able to do their Neighbours I don't know, but this I am sure of, that they are plagued at home with all the calamities that a Nation can well suffer.  Geo. 
From whence do these Commotions and Wars arise, I wonder.  Mar. 
From whence do you ask? Why, from the Ambition of Monarches.  Geo. 
Now, on the other hand, I should have thought it had been the Duty of Supreme Magistrates, by their Prudence and Authority to compose these calamitous Disorders, wherein so many thousands of innocent People must suffer.  Mar. 
So one would have thought, as you say; but under the Rose your Princes extinguish these Flames, just for all the world as Oil puts out Fire. They flatter themselves that they are God's, and that the World was made purely for their sake.  Geo. 
That's merry enough; Now, I was ever such a dull block head as to believe that a Prince was made for the People, and not the People for a Prince.  Mar. 
What vexes me most, is that the Churchmen lend a helping hand to these Disorders, and blow the Trumpet to Sanctify the cutting of Throats.  Geo. 
By my consent they should be set in the Front of the Army, there to receive the Reward of their great Pains-taking.  Mar. 
Why, so say I, and so says all the world. But a Pox on't, your Priests will never come within harms way; they love their Carcases too well for that; tho' they may advise us Lay-fools venture the knocking of our Brains out, yet for their own parts they'll not hazard a little Finger, even in a Quarrel of their own making.  Geo. 
Well! But you are come home a complete Monsieur, I hope: Your outside seems to promise it; for upon my word Friend Martin you are a most surious Beau.  Mar. 
Oh, I speak la Langue Francoise to a Miracle. I faith I am so charmed with it, that I have almost forgot my own. Lord! The English is so dull and Phlegmatic, in comparison of that; How much more emphatical is Vierrerie than a Glass-house, Promenade than a Walk Rovillon, than a Wheel-barrow? Well, of all Fiacres in the World your London Fiacre is certainly the most miserable Voiture upon Earth.  Geo. 
But how came you a God's Name to learn the Language so soon?  Mar. 
Oh of those everlasting Bahillardes the French Women, who I must tell you en passant are grown much more Corpulent and Fat than before the War, which upon mature Thoughts I ascribe to their immoderate drinking of Ratafia.  Geo. 
What sort of Liquor is that prithee, for I never heard of it before?  Mar. 
'Tis a Cherry-brandy made of Brandy and Apricock-stones.  Geo. 
Now for Paris dear Rogue, how go Squares there? I know so great a Virtuoso as you are, must make a thousand curious Observations.  Mar. 
Most of the Citizen's Houses have Port-cochez to drive in a Coach, and Romises to set them up.  Geo. 
Oh admirable! but pray proceed.  Mar. 
Their Buildings are some of hewn Stone entire, and some of Brick with Freestone, and in many Houses they have ten Menages, I warrant ye. Their Cellar Windows are grated with strong Bars of Iron, but I was extremely Scandalised at the Vinegretté.  Geo. 
You talk Arabic I think, but pray explain yourself.  Mar. 
'Tis a wretched business and a very jest in so magnificent a City, drawn along by two Boys, and pushed behind by a Maid. But then to make amends, the Coachmen in Paris drive with an air of haste.  Geo. 
Prettily expressed I faith. Let me die if I could not stay a whole day to hear thee.  Mar. 
Tho' I want a Relish for Painting and Building, I much admired I could never meet with a Statue in Paris, but what was clothed with a Togapura, and no Representation of a Bullated one.  Geo. 
'Twas a thousand pities I profess.  Mar. 
I saw several Tableaux at a Gentleman's House, and among the rest one Painted in Dishabille, with a foppish Nightgown, and an old Quoifure. I likewise saw a Roman Glass, whose very bottom, do ye mind me, was very smooth, and very little umbilicate; but what pleased me most, was a young Kitling in an Air-pump, which survived 500 Pumps.  Geo. 
What a Blessing it is to be a Philosopher? But is this all you took notice of?  Mar. 
No, no, I should tyre you but to recite one half of what I observed. When a thing is lost, they don't put it in the public Prints, as we do; but fix a Printed Paper on the Wall. Their Streets are lighted even in the Moonshine Nights. They have Clap Bills too, and set up by Authority. There are a world of Boats upon the River, but when a Thaw comes they are in danger of being split. They sell Books by Auction, but have no Bureaus of Ivory. The Pox is the great Business of the Town. The poor People carry little Tin-kettles in the Streets with Small-coal lighted. Their Roots differ much from ours; they have no round Turnips, but long ones. Lettuce is the great and universal Salad, but it vexed me to the heart that I could not stay long enough to see whether there is more Dust in Paris than in London. In short their Fiacres are easier than ours; their Promenades delicious, their Postchoises very convenient, their Pavillons are Surprising, the Decorations of their Treillages admirable, their Couches finely laid out, and their Champignons and Moriglios beyond compare.  Geo. 
Your Servant, Sir, I swear I could almost hang myself that I was never bred at Gresham. Well, I believe not one Man in a thousand has so nice a Palate.  Mar. 
Fie, you make me blush now, my Observations incline rather to Nature than Dominion. And your Friend Martin here, whatever you think of him, finds himself better disposed, and more apt to learn the Physiognomy of a hundred Weeds, than of five or six Princes. So much for this Affair, but pray tell me what remarkable Passages have happened here in my Absence.  Geo. 
Nothing of Note, Sir, but only this, Tua catulla peperit tibi catulum absenti, tua Gallina peperit tibi ovum. In plain English, Friend Martin, your Maid was fairly brought to Bed here in Westminster, while you were fairly brought to Bed of your fine Voyage to Paris.  Mar. 
Voila que c'est étre malheureux. Oh this confounded Cockatrice! Well, I will just step to the Custom-house to secure my invaluable Cargo of humble Bees, Tadpoles, Millers-thumbs, Sticklebacks, Land-snails, Day-butterflies, Grasshoppers, Cockleshells, etc. And then I will trounce the Gipsy for daring to Fornicate in my absence.  Geo. 
Have a care what you do, Friend Martin, Increase and Multiply was the first Commandment. You were once of opinion to my knowledge, that Propagation was entirely necessary that Mankind might be like the Stars in the Firmament, or the Shells and Sand upon the Sea Shore, and why you that are a Virtuoso, should quarrel with your Maid for learning a little natural Philosophy, I can't see. But I find you are in haste, and so farewell.   

THE Plain Dealer, Or, All is not Gold that Glisters.  
COL. III.  
That the Generality of Mankind regard only Names and outsides, but never consider the intrinsic nature of things.  Rich. Prettyman. Ri. 
GOod morrow Prettyman.  Pr. 
The same to you Friend Rich. You'll laugh at me I know for what I am going to say; but since we are met, I cannot help wishing that both of us were what our Names seem to imply, I mean that you were a wealthy and I a handsome Fellow.  Ri. 
Why, is it not enough that our Names tell the World we are so?  Pr. 
Enough? for my part I would not give a Farthing for a name if I want the thing.  Ri. 
The generality of the world let me tell you are of another Opinion.  Pr. 
I don't know what you mean by the world, but I can hardly believe any thing that wears the shape of a Man thinks so.  Ri. 
You may imagine perhaps that Camels and Asses walk the Streets in a humane figure, but I once more tell you, that Men, and Men of Wit and Parts are of this mind.  Pr. 
By your leave I would sooner believe the former, I mean that Camels and Asses are Men in Masquerade, than that any thing that calls himself a rational Creature should be such an abandoned Sot as to prefer a name to the reality.  Ri. 
In some sorts of cases I own to you that People would rather have the thing than the name, but the quite contrary happens in others.  Pr. 
I don't apprehend what you drive at.  Ri. 
Why, we carry an instance of it about ourselves. For example, your name is Prettyman and not to flatter you, you deserve it; but if you were to part either with one or the other, whether would you rather choose to have an ugly Phyz, or instead of Prettyman to be called jowler?  Pr. 
Your Servant Sir, I would rather be called Scare-devil, or Rawhead, or in fine what you please, than to be the Knight of the ill-favoured Countenance. Whether I have a good one or no, is not the question in debate.  Ri. 
And likewise for myself here, if I were a Man of Substance in the World, I would rather alter my name Rich into that of Poor, than part with one jarthing of my money.  Pr. 
I must needs own that what you say is true, and 'twill be the same case as I take it with those that enjoy their health, or any other convenience belonging to the body.  Ri. 
In all probability 'twill be so.  Pr. 
But then how many Thousands do we see in the World, who had rather have the name of learned and pious Men, than take pains to be really so?  Ri. 
I know but too many of this humour.  Pr. 
Well then, and are you not convinced that Mankind has a greater regard to the name than to the thing?  Ri. 
Troth I can't deny it.  Pr. 
Now if any profound Logician would give us an accurate definition of a King, a Bishop, a Magistrate, and a Philosopher, perhaps we should even here find some, that would rather choose the name than the thing.  Ri. 
'Twou'd be so I fear me, if he and only he is a King who governs according to Law and Equity, and considers the public advantage more than his own: If a Bishop is one who makes it his sole business to look after his Flock, and not raise a Family: If a Magistrate is one that heartily and sincerely pursues the Interest of the Common wealth: And lastly, if a Philosopher is one that despises the Gifts of Fortune, and only drives at the tranquillity and instruction of his Soul.  Pr. 
Now you are convinced, I hope that a Man might assign but too many instances of this nature, if he were so minded.  Ri. 
I freely own it.  Pr. 
Well, but you won't deny these to be Men, will you?  Ri. 
If I should, I might call thy own Title to the name is question.  Pr. 
But if Man is a thinking reasoning Creature, is it not monstrously sottish that in the case of bodily advantages (for I cannot call them goods) and in the gifts of fortune which are but temporary, a Man should rather desire to have the thing than the name; and that in the true endowments of the mind, he should on the other hand pay a greater regard to the name than the thing?  Pr. 
In truth, if a Man rightly considers it, nothing can be more ridiculous.  Ri. 
Why 'tis the very same case in things of a different nature.  Pr. 
As how I pray?  Ri. 
What has been said of the names of things that are to be desired, the same judgement is to be made of the terms of those things we ought to avoid.  Pr. 
'Tis so no doubt on't.  Ri. 
As for example, a Man ought rather to dread the being a Tyrant, than to have the name: and if a bad Bishop as the Gospel informs us is a Thief, and a Robber, we ought not so much to hate the name as the thing itself.  Pr. 
I am wholly of your opinion.  Ri. 
Now make the same judgement of the rest.  Pr. 
Oh I understand you well enough.  Ri. 
Is not the name of a Fool held in derestation by all the World.  Pr. 
Ay, certainly nothing more.  Ri. 
And would you scruple to call that Man a Fool, whom you should see making Ducks and Drakes with his Many, or preferring bits of Glass to the richest Diamonds, or more fond of his Dogs and Horses than of his Wife and Children?  Pr. 
No I'faith, I should soon dubb him a jack adam's.  Ri. 
And do you think those Fellows are a jott better that run through thick and thin, that are perpetually harassed and fatigued, that lie whole Nights up to the chin in water, that venture the pinking of their Carcases, and the damning of their Souls, for that most valuable consideration a Groat a day, which is not honestly paid them neither; or those right worshipful Wretches that sit up Night and Day to heap a little paltry pelf, but grudge the least Minute to enrich and improve the faculties of the Mind; or lastly those fine Gentlemen that never think their Houses and clothes fine enough, while their better part lies neglected and naked; that take all imaginable care to keep their Bodies in health, while their Soul labours under a thousand dangerous Distempers, and they never value it: In short, those that purchase everlasting Torments for the enjoyment of a few foolish transitory Pleasures, that even sting us in the enjoyment?  Pr. 
A Man's own reason will make him acknowledge this in spite of his teeth.  Ri. 
However, though all places are so crowded and crammed with Fools, yet I believe there's not one among so many Millions that would patiently sit down with the Name, tho' he really deserves it.  Pr. 
Faith you are much in the right.  Ri. 
To come to another Point. You are sensible how odious and abominable the Names of Liar and Thief are in all Nations of the World.  Pr. 
I own it, and reason good they should be so.  Ri. 
No question on't, but tho' to lie with another Man's Wife, and to violate his Bed, is really Base, and more Disingenuous than Theft itself, yet you have shoals of Men in the World, that value themselves upon the Name of a Cnekold-maker, and think it an honourable Title, who would most infallibly cut your Throat, should you call them Thief.  Pr. 
'Tis so with most Men, I own it.  Ri. 
Thus you have others who Whore and get Drunk in the Face of the Sun, and yet abominate the Name of Spendthrifts, or Sots.  Pr. 
The reason is, because they think the thing creditable, cho ' they cannot endure the Name that belongs to the thing.  Ri. 
‛ There is scarce any word in the World that more shocks ours Ears and Nature, than that of a Lyar.  Pr. 
Poogh! I have known hundreds in my time that have fairly tilted, and ripped up one another's Guts upon such a Provocation.  Ri. 
'Twere to be wished that they had an equal aversion to the thing. But did it never so fall out with you in the course of your Business, that a Man promised to pay you a certain Sum of Money at a time appointed, and yet broke his Word with you?  Pr. 
But too often, tho' he wished himself a thousand times at the Devil, if he kept not his Promise.  Ri. 
But perhaps these were poor Dogs, and not able to pay you?  Pr. 
No, hang them they were able enough, but they thought it more convenient to keep their Money to themselves.  Ri. 
Why prithee now is not this downright bare-faced impudent Lying?  Pr. 
As certain as the Sun at midday.  Ri. 
But suppose a Tradesman should Greet his Creditor in this blunt manner; My Lord, or Sir John, why do you tell me these Lies?  Pr. 
The Noble Peer would Indite him for a Scandalum Magnatum, and the Knight 'tis ten to one would whip him through the Lungs.  Ri. 
Well? now, and are not your Lawyers, your Solicitors, your Physicians, etc. Guilty of this Crime, when they promise to do their Business by such a time, and yet disappoint you, tho' your All lies at Stake?  Pr. 
Who questions it? You might add your Courtiers too, who promise to be friend a Man, but forget him so soon as he has owned his back.  Ri. 
Pshaw, I might take in three parts of the Globe, were I minded to number the Beasts. But not one of them I suppose would be content to be called Lyar.  Pr. 
Tho they deserved the Imputation never so much. I close with you.  Ri. 
In like manner no body but startles at the name of Thief, when not one in a hundred has an aversion for the thing.  Pr. 
Explain yourself a little more upon this Point.  Ri. 
What difference is there between a Fellow that breaks open your House, that Rifles your Chests, and one that will for swear a Pledge?  Pr. 
None at all, but that the latter is the greater Villain of the two, because he Injures the Man that trusted him.  Ri. 
But how few are they that will honestly restore a thing committed to their Charge? or if they do, keep one half to themselves before they'll deliver it.  Pr. 
Nay, I could name you several Lord Mayor, and Alderman, and the Devil and all of Quality that have done the same; but Tace you know is Latin for a Candle.  Ri. 
Yet none of these worthy Gentlemen would endure to be called Mr. Thief, tho' many an honester of the Profession has swinged for't at Tyburn.  Pr. 
Why i'faith I'm of your Opinion.  Ri. 
Now, do but consider after what a fine rate your Guardians generally manage the Estates of Minors, what horrid tricking there is about Wills and Legacies, and how much of the Orphan's Money sticks to the Fingers of those that tell it?  Pr. 
Right, tho' sometimes nothing but the whole will content these Harpies.  Ri. 
Thus 'tis plain that they love the Theft, but abominate the name.  Pr. 
'Tis even so as you say.  Ri. 
As for the Tellers of the Exchequer, the Receivers of Taxes, the Overseers of the Mint, and those honest Patriots that sometimes raise, and then again lower the Price of Guineas, to the incredible loss of particular Men, not being acquainted with the Mysteries of their Art, or not daring to expose them, I have nothing to say to them. But a Man may be allowed to talk of what he daily feels and sees. To proceed then: What think you of one that borrows of every body, and runs in their Debt with an Intention never to pay them, unless the Law forces him to it; what difference is there between such a Spark and a Thief?  Pr. 
The world perhaps will say he has more Caution, tho' not a jot more Honesty than the other.  Ri. 
Yet tho' the whole Kingdom is overrun with these Vermin, not one of the Tribe will bear the Name you wot of.  Pr. 
Heaven only knows their Intentions, for which Reason the Courtesy of the World calls them Bankrupts, and not Thiefs.  Ri. 
What signifies it a Farthing how the World miscalls them, so long as they are Registered for Thiefs in the Annals of Heaven? Every Man 'tis true best knows his own Intentions, but when I see a Fellow up to the Ears in Debt, yet Whoring or Sotting away his Money when he receives it; when after he has broke in one Town, I find him leave his Creditors in the Lurch, and scampering to another, and only looking out for a new set of Fools to trust him; when I say I find him playing these Tricks, not only once or twice but half a score times, I cannot for my Blood forbear to tell him his own. Does not he sufficiently declare the intentions of his Heart, with a murrain to him?  Pr. 
Ay, enough in all Conscience. And yet these Treble-piled Rogues shall pretend to Varnish over their Actions very finely.  Ri. 
As how I pray?  Pr. 
They'll tell you, that to owe much, and especially to a world of People, is to live like a King or a Nobleman; and, generally speaking, these Rascals affect the Name of Quality to set them off.  Ri. 
What can the meaning of that be?  Pr. 
You can't imagine what privileges belong to a Man of Quality. He can do that with a good Grace, which would look ill in any one else.  Ri. 
Well, but what Right, what Law have they to countenance this?  Pr. 
What Law say you? The same by which your Gentlemen that have Estates by the Seashore pretend a Right to Wrecks, tho' the Owner of the Goods is alive: The same by which your Lords of Manors claim a Title to whatever is found about a Robber or Highwayman, to the apparent injury of the true Proprietors.  Ri. 
A Convention of Thiefs might make as honest Laws as these.  Pr. 
True, and so they would if they had but the Power in their hands; and they'd have excuse enough for what they do, if they could but declare War, before they went a Thieving.  Ri. 
But how comes your Man of Quality a God's Name to have more Right to do this than your common ordinary Scoundrel?  Pr. 
They are in Prescription of the Thing, and that's sufficient.  Ri. 
And how come they by their Titles?  Pr. 
Some have them by Inheritance, others purchase them by their Money, and some again by their laudable Qualities.  Ri. 
What may those be?  Pr. 
I'll sum them up in short to you. If a Man never did one virtuous thing in his Life; if he goes richly Apparelled, if he wears a Ring upon his Finger, if he Whores incessantly, and Games everlastingly; if he can play at Ombre and Piquet, and Trowel down a Gallon or two of Wine before he reels to bed; if he Sleeps all day and Drinks all night; if he speaks of no ordinary things, but Castles, and Garrisons, Halfmoons, and Ravelins, Stockadoes and Demiculverins; such a Man is as complete Quality as any in Guillim or Dugdale.  Ri. 
And are these the blessed Ingredients out of which Quality is Compounded? For my part I'll put it into my Litany to be delivered from it.  Pr. 
You are in the right, and yet I could name a certain Island in the World to you, where you may see hundreds and hundreds of such accomplished Gentlemen; but enough of them for this time. Farewell.   

THE Fatal Marriage, or the Unhappy Bride.  
COL. IV.  
A Pretty Young Lady forced to Marry a Diseased Rakehell of Quality. The Cruelty of Parents to Sacrifice their Children to the Vanity of a Title.  Peter. Gabriel. Pe. 
WHence comes our Friend Gabriel I wonder, with so grave, so mortified a Phyz? from Burgess' Meeting, or a Reprobation-Lecture at Pinner's hall?  Ga. 
No, you are mistaken, from a Wedding.  Pe. 
The duce you did! I never saw a Look in my Life that had less of the air of a Wedding in it. Those that have been at so jolly a Ceremony ought to look the chearfuller for it at least a Twelvemonth after. Why Man such a sight, that puts so many merry Ideas into a body's Head, is enough to make one as Old as Parr frisk and caper, and grow Young again. Then prithee what sort of a Wedding is it thou talk'st of? Not that of Death and the Cobbler I hope, or of Bully Bloody bones and Mother Damnable.  Ga. 
Jesting apart, I come from the Wedding of a young Gentleman to one of the most charming delicious Creatures in the world; A Curse on my Memory, she sets me on Fire as oft as I think of her; in the very Bloom of her Age; just turned of Sixteen, and for her Beauty, Fortune, and good Conditions not to be paralleled in the whole Country: In short, she was fit to have made a Spouse for jupiter himself.  Pe. 
What! For such an old antiquated Fumbler as he.  Ga. 
Why prithee your Great Folks never grow Old.  Pe. 
Well then, whence comes this sadness, this Cloud upon your Forehead? Now I think on't, I fancy you envy the Bridegroom for Robbing you of so delicious, so eharming a Morsel.  Ga. 
No such matter, I'll assure you.  Pe. 
Perhaps you fell to Loggerheads over your Wine, as the Lapithae did of Old, and that makes you so melancholy.  Gr. 
You are wide of the matter, take my word for't.  Pe. 
I'll guests the contrary then; perhaps the Spark was a Niggard of his Liquor, and to be Sober at a Wedding, you know, is a Sin ne'er to be forgiven.  Ga. 
So far from that, that the Butts bled as heartily, as if it had been a Coronation.  Pe. 
Well, now I have hit it, you wanted Music to cheer your Hearts.  Ga. 
Oh! wider from the point than ever; we had Fiddles, and Flutes, and Harps, and Kettledrums; in fine, all the Instruments you can think of from a Bagpipe up to an Organ; nay, that most Celestial Consort of a pair of Tongues and a Key was not wanting.  Pe. 
Well, you had your bellyful of Dancing than I hope.  Ga. 
Not so much Dancing as you imagine, but Limping enough in all Conscience.  Pe. 
What Persons of Quality had you to Grace the Nuptials?  Ga. 
Not one, but a certain active Lady, whose Business and good Qualities you may find upon all the Pissing-posts in Town, and who keeps her head Quarters in Covent-garden.  Pe. 
A Covent-garden Lady say you; pray what may her Name be?  Ga. 
In troth none of the best: The world calls her MY LADY POX, but as the Draper said by his Cloth, what she wants in length she makes out in breadth, for they say she's Related to most of the Noble Families in Christendom.  Pe. 
But why (dear Friend of mine) should the bare mention of this set thee a weeping?  Ga. 
Ah Peter, Peter, the Tragical Story I am going to tell thee of, is enough to make a Brickbat weep and cry and run like a Church Spout.  Pe. 
Yes, so I suppose if a Brickbat had but a Tongue, and a pair of Eyes and Ears. But prithee keep me upon the rack no longer; out with thy ill News let it be what it will: You see I have guessed and guessed and always fell wide of the Mark.  Ga. 
You know Squire Freeman of the Grange, don't you?  Pe. 
Know him? I have drank a Thousand Bottles with him in my time; the worthiest, frankest, honestest Gentleman that ever breathed.  Ga. 
Well, and done't you know his Daughter Katy too?  Pe. 
Now you have named her, you have named the Top-Beauty of the Age.  Ga. 
'Tis as you say, and do you know whom she is Married to?  Pe. 
Ten to one, but after you have told me, I shall.  Ga. 
I'll tell you then: She's Married to that mirror of Knighthood Sir Bully Bounce.  Pe. 
What! that swaggering, blustering, huffing Spark, that Compound of Cowardice and Vanity, that everlasting Coxcomb, who kills whole Armies in a Breath, and murders more than Drawcansir in the Play.  Ga. 
The very same individual Monster upon my word.  Pe. 
Why you know he's famous all the world over for Two extraordinary Gifts; Imprimis, for his most incomparable Talon of Lying, at which he'll outdo Twenty four Plot-Evidences supported with the same number of Travelling Priests; and, 2dly, For a certain Noble French Qualification he carries about him, I mean the French Disease, which tho' it came from the Indies but t'other day, and is the younger Brother of the Weekly Bills, yet in the short time it has set up for itself, has done more Execution, and run a greater compass of Ground than all the other Diseases put together, tho' they started so many Hundred Years before it.  Ga. 
'Tis a haughty proud Distemper that's certain, and will turn its back neither to Gout, nor Stone, nor Plague, nor Fever, nor yet to its Son-in-law Consumption, whose Name it frequently assumes: Give it but a clear Stage and it demands no favour.  Pe. 
So the Sons of Galen talk indeed.  Ga. 
Why should I spend more time in describing this pretty young Creature, since I find you know her? tho' I must tell you, Friend, that the richness of her Dress added no little Lustre to her Natural Beauty. I tell thee what Peter, hadst thou seen her in the Room, thou'dst have Sworn she was a Goddess; her Habit, her Mien, her Shape, and, in short, all her Motions were agreably bewitching. Soon after, that blessed Weight the Bridegroom popped upon us God wot, with his Nose dismantled, and drawing one Leg after another, but with as ill a grace as an Old foundered Country Dancing Master. He wore a Welsh Gauntlet upon both Hands, I mean the Itch, with which his Fingers were Crusted over as with a natural Armour: His Eyes were dull and heavy, his Breath strong enough to murder at twelvescore; his Head bound up in an infinity of Caps, and his Nose (beg your pardon, Sir,) run as plentifully as a Horse's that has got the Glanders. In fine, this Living Mummy was wrapped up in Flannel from Top to Toe, for fear of falling asunder; otherwise I dare engage that a puff of Wind not strong enough to rufflea Custard, would have shaken his Tabernacle to pieces.  Pe. 
Mercy on us! And what in the Name of Lucifer was the reason that her Parents Married her to this walking Hospital?  Ga. 
I don't know, but that three Parts in four of the Globe seem now a days to be stark Mad and out of their Wits.  Pe. 
Perhaps the Fellow's plaguy Rich, and Riches you know, like Charity, cover a multitude of Faults.  Ga. 
Rich! 'tis then in Shopkeepers Books, for he's deeper in them than a dozen Lords▪ I could name to you, at the other end of the Town. In short, he owes more than his Head's worth.  Pe. 
If this young Damosel now had poisoned her pious Grandfather, and broke the Heart of her venerable Grandmother, what greater Punishment could they have inflicted on her?  Ga. 
Nay had she pissed upon the Tomb of her Ancestors, she had more than atoned for the Crime, had she been only forced to give him one single Kiss.  Pe. 
Faith, I'm of your Opinion.  Ga. 
In my mind now they have been infinitely more Cruel to her, than if they had exposed her stark Naked to Bears, or Lions, or Crocodiles: Those generous Beasts would either have spared a Creature of such incomparable Beauty, or else soon made a Breakfast of her and put her out of her Misery.  Pe. 
Right. This brutal, this barbarous Usage seems only fit for such a Monster as Mezentius to have put in Execution, who, as Virgil tell us, 
Joined the unhappy Living to the Dead,  
And set them Breast to Breast, and Head to Head.  Tho' by the by, I very much question whether Mezentius, as inhuman as they represent him, would have been such a downright Devil, as to tack so lovely a young Virgin to a nasty Carcase; and what Carcase is there that one would not much rather desire to be joined to, than this confounded Knight, with a Pox to him; since the very Air he breathes is rank Poison, since his very words are Pestilential, and to be touched by him is worse than Death itself.  Ga. 
Now, prithee honest Peter, do but think with yourself what a mighty Pleasure there must needs be in their kissing and panting, and murmuring and sighing, and all the other mysteries of the nuptial Bed.  Pe. 
I have heard the Parsons frequently talk of uncanonical, Marriages. Now this I think is an uncanonical Marriage with a witness. 'Tis as unsuitable, as if one should set the finest Diamond in the world in Lead; You may talk of your Heroes and your Killers of Giants, but for my part I think this young Lady gives a greater proof of her boldness to venture herself between a pair of Sheets with so hideous a Bed fellow. Young Maidens of her Age use to be scared out of their Wits at the sight, nay at the bare mention of a Ghost or Hobgoblin; and can she endure to be murdered all night in the Embraces of so dreadful a Spectre?  Ga. 
The poor Creature has something to excuse her, as the Authority of her Father, the Importunity of her Relations, and the Simplicity of her Age; but her Parents I'm sure have not a Syllable to say for themselves. What Chimny-sweeper, or Broom man in Kent-street, would Marry his Daughter, tho' she were never so homely, to a Fellow that had a Plague-sore running upon him?  Pe. 
Not one in my Conscience that had but a Grain of common Sense. For my part, had I a Daughter both Lame and Blind, and ugly enough to be Roasted for a Witch in Scotland, and to complete her Charms, with not one Farthing of a Portion to help her off, I would sooner swopp her to a Tobacco plantation, than make her say for better for worse with such a choice Son in Law.  Ga. 
The Leprosy is a very bad Companion, but this cursed Distemper is a thousand times more Loathsome and Destructive even than that. It steals upon a Man without giving him fair warning, it goes off, and rallies again with a vengeance, and frequently sends many a young Fellow to the Devil, before he knows where he is; whereas the Leprosy is so complaisant and Civil, as to let a Man jog on to a good comfortable old Age.  Pe. 
Perhaps than the Girl's Father and Mother knew nothing that the Bridegroom lay under this pinching Dispensation, as the Quaker called it.  Ga. 
No, no, they knew it as well as his Nurse or Chirurgeon.  Pe. 
If they were resolved to use her so ill, why a God's Name did they not tie her Neck and Heels in a Sack and so fling her into the Thames?  Ga. 
It had been a much more merciful way of dispatching her than this.  Pe. 
What was it then that recommended him to their Choice? Is he Famous for any good Qualities?  Ga. 
Yes, several I can tell you; he Games incomparably, Drinks like a Camp-chaplain, and Whores like a Lay elder; then for Bantering and Lying, nothing in the Universe comes near him. He has a long Score I dare engage in every Tavern from Whitechappel to Whitehall. He palms a Die to admiration, and would cheat his own Brother. In short, he is the most finished Rakehell now living; and whereas the Universities pretend but to seven liberal Sciences, Sir Bully Bounce has at least a dozen, of which he is a complete Master, and may serve to be Regius Professor of any of them.  Pe. 
Well, but after all, this Sir Bully what d'ye call him, must have something or other certainly to recommend him to her Parents,  Ga. 
Why, you have already named it Man, did you not call him Sir Bully? 'Twas nothing but the glorious Title of Knight that bewitched them.  Pe. 
A precious Knight indeed, you may call him the Knight of the burning Pestle. But I suppose he has a vast Estate, and that makes amends for all.  Ga. 
Some, half a score years ago he had an indifferent Estate, but living very fast, as they say, has brought his Noble to Ninepences; for he has Whored and Drunk away all his Acres, and has nothing left but a little Manor-house, moated round for fear of an Invasion, from whence he uses to make a Descent now and then into the Neighbouring Country, to the great Terror and Desolation of the Farmer's Yards thereabouts; but so wretchedly furnished, that a Pig sty would be thought a Palace to it. And yet this egregious Coxcomb talks of nothing but of Bounce-Castle near the River Bounce in Bounce hundred, and of his Manor-houses, and Summer-seats, of Heriots, and Deodands, of Court Leets, and the Assizes, of Tenants and Vassals; with a heap of such magnificent well-sounding words; and then he never comes into any company but he perpetually prates of his Coat of Arms.  Pe. 
Prithee what Coat of Arms does the Brute give? six Turpentine Pills Gilt, I warrant ye, and his Supporters are two Quack Doctors with those terrible Engines, two Syringes mounted.  Ga. 
That's merry enough. No, he gives Three Hogs, Or in a Field Gules.  Pe. 
A very proper Emblem, I faith for such a Beast; but by the Field one would take him to be a very bloody Person.  Ga. 
Rather if you judge him by the Wine he drinks; for he makes no more of a Gallon of Claret, than a Schoolboy would do of sucking an Egg.  Pe. 
Then the three Golden Hogs show that he squanders all the Money, he can lay his Fingers on, in swilling and sotting.  Ga. 
You are much in the right on't.  Pe. 
But to dismiss this point of Heraldry, pray what jointure will this mighty Blusterer settle upon his Spouse?  Ga. 
Ne'er trouble your Head about that, he'll give her a most magnificent one, you need not question.  Pe. 
How can that be, since you tell me he has spent all, and burnt out his Candle to the last inch?  Ga. 
Don't interrupt me then: He'll jointure her in a most-pray mind me Sir— in a most substantial, fullgrown, thorough-paced— POX, so firmly settled, that neither She nor the Heirs of her Body, shall be able to cut off th' Entail, tho' they got an Act of Parliament for't.  Pe. 
Let me die if I would not sooner marry my Daughter to a Small-coal man, or a Hog-driver, than to such a rotten piece of Quality.  Ga. 
And for my part I would much rather bestow mine upon a Redheaded Welch Curate with four Marks a Year, and the Perquisites of a Bear and a Fiddle. How I pity the unfortunate Creature? There had been some comfort still, had she Married a Man; but alas she is thrown away upon the Leave, the Dross, the Refuse, the what shall I call it— the Skeleton of a Man? Now, Peter, put your Hand to your Heart and tell me fairly, Had you seen this lamentable sight, could you have forbore Weeping?  Pe. 
Why do ye ask me such a Question, when you see the very Recital of this Story has drawn Tears from me? Good Heavens! that Parents should be so Barbarous and Unnatural, so void of common Humanity and Affection, as to Sacrifice an only Daughter, and one so Beautiful and Amiable, so Innocent and sweet-conditioned to the loathsome Embraces of a filthy Monster; and all for the sake of a lying Coat of Arms, and o make the poor thing a Lady.  Ga. 
Your Com laint is not without Reason; for certainly 'tis the greatest Barbarity that can be committed; and yet your People of Condition (as they call themselves) make but a jest of it; tho' one would think that it highly concerned those Gentlemen that are born to the highest Posts of the Government, and are one day to make Senators, and Ministers of State, to take some care of their Health; for let them say, what they will to the contrary, the Body has a great Influence upon the Operations of the Soul. Now this exerable Disease undermines the whole Fabric, and at long run does not leave a Man so much Brain as would fill a Nutshell. And thus it comes about that we frequently see some Noble Persons sitting at the Helm, whose Intellectuals, as well as their Carcases are in a woeful pickle.  Pe. 
In my opinion, your Great Men, whether Princes, or those of a subordinate Rank, ought not only to have their Understandings clear and strong, and a healthful Constitution of Body, but if it were possible should excel other Men in the Beauty and Gracefulness of their Persons, as much as they do in Quality; for tho' justice and Wisdom are the principal Ingredients in the Composition of a Prince, and chiefly recommend him to the Love of his People; yet there's something too to be said for his shape and outside. If he proves a morose and rigid Governor, the deformity of his Body helps to make him still more Odious to his Subjects; and if he is Merciful and Affable, his Virtues derive some agreeableness from the beauty of the Place where they Inhabit.  Ga. 
I make no question on'nt.  Pe. 
Don't we use to lament the misfortune of those poor Women, whose Husbands soon after they are Married to them, fall into Consumptions, or are troubled with Apoplectic Fits?  Ga. 
Yes, and not without good reason.  Pe. 
Then tell me, what a Madness or Stupidity is it for a Man to bestow his Daughter, voluntarily, and of his own free will, to a Fellow that is ten times worse than the most Consumptive wretch alive?  Ga. 
No doubt on't, 'tis the highest degree of Madness that can be. If a Nobleman has a mind to have a fine Pack of Hounds, do ye think he'd bring a mangy scoundril Cur to a well-bred Bitch?  Pe. 
No. He would sooner send from one end of his County to the other, that he might not be plagued with a Litter of Mongrels.  Ga. 
And if my Lord should take a fancy to have a noble studd of Horses, can you imagine he'd suffer a heavy, diseased, rascally Dray horse to cover his fine Barbary Mare?  Pe. 
So far from that, that he'd hang up half a score Grooms rather than he'd endure to have a diseased Horse come within his Stable, for fear of giving the Infection to the rest.  Ga. 
And yet this discreet and noble Peer does not care a Farthing who Marries his Daughter and begets her Children, tho' they are not only to Succeed him in his Estate, but may arrive at one time or other to have the Chief management of State-Affairs.  Pe. 
Even that moving Clod of Earth a Country Farmer wont let every pitiful Bull that comes next to hand Gallant his Cow, nor every sorry Tit debauch his Mare, nor every Lean-gutted Boar make Love to his Sow; tho' the highest Preferment an Ox can arrive to in this World is to drudge at a Plough, and a Horse's fortune is to draw a Coach or Cart, and a Hog's destiny concludes in furnishing Belly-Timber for the Kitchen, Chines and Spare-ribs against Christmas, and Gammons to keep Easter in Countenance.  Ga. 
To see now how porversly Mankind judges of things! If a poor ordinary Fellow should in his Liquor happen to force a Kiss from a Nobleman's Daughter, they'd persecute him so furiously, that the poor Offender must be forced, in his own defence, to fly his Country.  Pe. 
No question but that would be the end on't.  Ga. 
And yet these wise and honourable Persons freely, and of their own accord, without the least Necessity or Compulsion, make no Scruple to Condemn a Daughter for term of Life to the Bed of a lewd profligate Rakehell, so he be but a Rakehell of Quality; in which respect they dont only trespass against the real interest of their own Family, but likewise against that of the Public.  Pe. 
If a Fellow that halts a little, or (to put the Case as bad as can be) stalks it along upon a wooden Leg, like the Crane of limping Memory in the Park, should have the Impudence to Court a young Girl, how would the Women mock and jeer at him, tho' he is an able and sound Man in the Critical Part? At the same time, tho' a Man has been Fluxed never so often, it is no impediment to his Marriage.  Ga. 
If a Coachman or Groom chance to run away with a Gentleman's Daughter, there is presently such a Rout and Hubbub all the Country, over as if the French were Landing; Lord! cries one, what pity 'tis that so Young a Creature should be Ruined; and Lord! cries an other, what Death is bad enough for the Rascal that seduced her? altho' this Rascal, bating the meaness of his outside, is as vigorous as the best Lord of them all, with the help of his Jellies; and his Wife is like to find him a Comfortable Performer; whereas this poor young Lady, we have been talking of, must do Penance all her Life with a walking Carcase. Thus too, if an Heiress happens to bestow herself upon a Parson, how many jests and Proverbs does the Neighbourhood pelt her with? When Death puts an end to the Parson's Life, what becomes of the Parson's Wife? However she enjoys herself well enough while her Husband lives, which is some satisfaction. But the Heroine of our Tragedy cannot expect one easy moment with her Knight in his Life-time, and when Dead, the Infection he bequeathes to her, will haunt her worse than a Ghost.  Pe. 
'Tis even so. Your Pirates that surprise Women by stealth, and Soldiers that take them as plunder in War, never treat them half so Cruelly as this poor Girl has been treated by her Parents, and yet the Magistrate never calls them to an account for it.  Ga. 
How should a Physician cure a Mad man, if he himself has a spice of the same Distemper?  Pe. 
But 'tis the greatest wonder in the world to me, that Princes who are so nearly and visibly interessed in the Welfare of their People, should make no wholesome Laws for their Health, which is the greatest Blessing they can enjoy on this side Heaven. The Disease we have been discoursing of all this while, has traveled as it were with a Pass through the better part of the Globe, and yet these worthy Vice-gerents of Heaven sleep as heartily in their Thrones, as if it were not worth their while to take notice of it.  Ga. 
Hark ye friend Peter, have a care what you say of Princes: When you talk upon so nice a Subject, keep your Tongue in a sheath, or it may cut your Throat. Lend me your ear, to whisper a word or two to you—.  Pe. 
I am heartily sorry for't, but I am afraid 'twill be so as you say to the end of the Chapter.  Ga. 
But to pursue our point. How many Ills do you think are occasioned by nasty Wines of the Vintner's dashing and brewing?  Pe. 
Why? if you'll take the Doctor's word for't, one half of the Diseases that carry off so many thousands every Week.  Ga. 
And do the Magistrates take no notice of this neither?  Pe. 
Poor Men! they are wholly taken up in gathering the King's Customs and Excise. There they are as watchful as Dragons, but mind nothing else.  Ga. 
If a Woman knows a Man is infected, and for all that will marry him, she must take what he is pleased to give her for her pains, but can blame no body else. Although if it were my fortune to sit at the helm, I should take care to banish them both from civil Society. But if it was a Woman's hard fate to marry a Fellow that pretended to be well and healthful, but was overrun with this Disease, were I Judge of the Prerogative Court, I should make no scruple to dissolve the Knot, tho' they had been solemnly Married in all the Churches in London.  Pe. 
By what pretence I wonder? For when Marriage is once legally contracted, no humane Power you know can disannul it.  Ga. 
And do you call that a legal Marriage which is built upon such horrid Villainy and Treachery? The Civilians will tell you that a Contract is not Valid, when a Slave palms himself upon a young Girl for a Freeman, and under that shame Marries her. Now the abovementioned Knight, to whom our poor Lady is sacrificed, is a Slave, a most abandoned Slave to that imperious Distemper the Pox; and his Slavery is so much the more insupportable, in respect he must wear her Livery all the days of his Life, without any prospect of a Redemption.  Pe. 
I protest you have staggered me. There is some colour in what you say, but proceed.  Ga. 
In the next place, Marriage can only be celebrated between two Persons that are living; but in this case the Woman Marries one, who in the literal Sense of Love is perfectly dead.  Pe. 
Ha! you have Arguments at will I see; however I suppose you would give your leave that the Diseased should Mary the Diseased, according to the righteous Proverb of Covent-garden, Clap that Clap can.  Ga. 
Why, truly if I were Judge of the Court, or some such great Person, Perhaps for the public benefit I might suffer them to Marry, but so soon as the Ceremony was over, I would take care to put out one Fire with another, and that a Faggot should finish what the other Disease had begun.  Pe. 
Ay, but this would be to act like a Tyrant, and not like a Prince.  Ga. 
Why would you call that Physician a Tyrant that lops off a Finger or two, or it may be burns part of the Body, to save the whole? For my part I don't think it Cruelty, but the highest Act of Pity that can be exerted, and it were to be wished that this Course had been taken when this Distemper first appeared in the World, for then the public Welfare of Mankind had been consulted at the Expense of a few Sufferers. Nay, the French History presents as with an Instance of this Nature.  Pe. 
But after all it would be the gentler way to geld, or part them asunder:  Ga. 
And what would you have done to the Women, pray?  Pe. 
You know Italy affords a certain Invention, called a Padlock.  Ga. 
That is something indeed, for by this means we should be sure to have no Branches from so blessed a Stock; Come, I will own your Method to be the gentler of the two, provided you'll in Compliment own that mine is the safer. Even those that are castrated have an itching desire upon them, neither is this Infection propagated by one way only, but a thousand; a bare kiss or touch may do it, nay, it may be got by Discoursing or Drinking with the Party Infected. Besides, we find that an unaccountable Spirit of doing Mischief is peculiar to this Disease; for those that have it take a delight to propagate the Contagion, tho' it does them no good. Now, if you talk of parting them asunder, they may scamper to other Places, and play the Devil where they are not known; but I hope you'll grant me there can be no danger from the Dead.  Pe. 
'Tis certain yours is the safer way of proceeding, but still I much question whether it can be reconciled to that Gentleness prescribed us by the Gospel.  Ga. 
Pray tell me then whether there's more danger from common Thiefs, or such People we have been talking of.  Pe. 
I must needs confess, that Money is not to be put in the same Balance with Health.  Ga. 
And yet we Christians, forsooth truss up a score of House-breakers and Felons every Sessions; neither does the World as Cenforious as it is, call this Cruelty, but justice and Mercy to the Nation in general.  Pe. 
Well, but in that case the Party that did the Injury, is fairly hanged out of the way.  Goe 
And are the others than such mighty Benefactors to the Public? Let us for once suppose that some may get this Distemper by no Fault of their own, tho' under Favour I believe that not one in ten thousand, but purchased it at the Price of his own Wickedness, yet the Lawyers will tell you that 'tis Lawful to dispatch the Innocent, if the common Safety of the Republic requires it. For this Reason the Grecians after the Destruction of Troy, put Astyanax, Hector's Son to the Sword, lest he might live to begin the War afresh. Nay, some Casuists will not stick to tell you, that after you have cut a Tyrant's Throat, 'tis no Sin to kill his innocent Children. To carry on this point yet farther, we fine People, that call ourselves Christians, are perpetually at War with one another, tho' we know before hand that the greatest share of the Calamities, occasioned by War, must light upon those poor. Men that least deserve them. The same thing happens in your Reprisals, or Letters of Mart, as they call them. The Party that did the Wrong is as safe as a Knave in the Admiralty, or Excise Office, but the poor Merchant, who is so far from being Criminal, that perhaps he never heard a Syllable of the Matter in his Life, is fairly plundered and stripped of all. Now if we have recourse to such bitter Remedies in things, that are not of the last Consequence, I desire to be informed what course ought to be taken in an Affair which so highly concerns us?  Pe. 
Nay, I must knock under the Table. Your Arguments are too mighty for me to cope with.  Ga. 
Take this with you too. So soon as the Plague breaks out in Italy, great care is taken to shut up the Infected house, and the Nurses that look after the Sick, are forbidden to appear abroad. Some Sots call this barbarous Usage; whereas 'tis the greatest Humanity that can be shown; for by this prudent Care the Pestilence sweeps off some half a dozen Folks, and then you hear no more of it; now, can any thing show more Humanity, than to save the Lives of many thousands at so cheap a rate. Others will rail at the Italians as a brutal inhospitable People, because when there's but a bare Report of a Plague, they won't suffer a Stranger to come within their Cities in the Evening, but force him to lie all Night in the open Fields. Now, for my part I look upon it to be Act of Piety, to procure a public Advantage at so easy a Price, as the incommoding of a few Persons. Some Coxcombs in the World take themselves to be very Stout and Complaisant, because they dare make a Visit to a Man who is Sick of the Plague, tho' they have no manner of Business with him; so when they come Home, they very fairly give the Infection to their Wives and Children, and, in short, to the whole Family. Nothing can be more stupid than this Fool-hardiness, more unreasonable than this Complaisance? To bring the dearest Persons one has in the World in danger of their Lives merely for the sake of a foolish Compliment or so; yet, after all, there's less to be apprehended from the Plague than from the Neapolitan Disease: The former seldom meddles with the Old, and sometimes passes by its next Neighbours; at least, this may be said for it, that it either quickly dispatches a Man out of his Pain, or restores him to his Health much sounder than he was before; whereas the latter is nothing but a perpetual Death, or, to speak more properly, a perpetual Burying. They are covered from Head to Foot with Plasters and Cataplasms, with Salves and Unguents, and a thousand other Medicaments too nauseous to be mentioned out of an Hospital.  Pe. 
What you say is so true, that with reverence to our Betters be it spoken, the same Care at least ought to be taken to prevent so Fatal an Evil, as they take to prevent the spreading of the Leprosy; or if this should be thought too much, no Man ought to let another Shave him, but to be his own Tonsor, and to trim himself by his own Looking-glass.  Ga. 
But what will you say now if both Tonsor and Gentleman agree to shut their Mouths?  Pe. 
'Tis to no purpose; the Infection may come out at their Nostrils.  Ga. 
Well, but there's a Remedy, to be had for that inconvenience.  Pe. 
I long to be informed.  Ga. 
They may borrow a Device from your Alchemists, and wear a Mask which shall afford them Light through two little glass Windows for the Eyes, and a breathing place for their Mouth and Nostrils through a Horn which reaches from their jawbones down to their Back.  Pe. 
Why that contrivance would do, as you say, if there was no danger in the touch of their Fingers, Linen, Comb, and Scissors.  Ga. 
I find then the best way will be to let one's Beard grow down to his knees.  Pe. 
That's my opinion, and then let us have an Act of Parliament that the same Man shall not be Barber and Chirurgeon too.  Ga. 
But that will be the ready way to starve the Barbers.  Pe. 
No matter; let them drink less Wine, and lessen their Family Charges, or else (for, I have Compassion for the poor Dogs) ask more for Shaving.  Ga. 
So be it with all my heart.  Pe. 
Then let a Law be Enacted, that every Man be obliged to drink out of his own Glass.  Ga. 
That Law I dare Swear will never go down in Old England.  Pe. 
In the next place, let there be a Penalty imposed for Two to lie in the same Bed, except they are Man and Wife.  Ga. 
Agreed.  Pe. 
Then as for your Inns, let no Stranger sleep in the same Sheets that any one has lain in before.  G. 
What will you do then with Wales and Cumberland, and that most delicious Country beyond the Tweed, where they wash their Linen but twice a Year?  Pe. 
Let them employ more Laundresses. And then let the Custom of Saluting one another with a Kiss be totally abolished, its Antiquity and Universality, and all other pretences notwithstanding.  Ga. 
How shall a Man behave himself in private Conversation?  Pe. 
Let him have a care of coming too near the Person he talk to, and let him that listens shut his Lips.  Ga. 
Why? you undo all the Coffeehouses and Chocolate-houses at one clap; besides, a Cartload of Parchment would not be sufficient to contain all these Punctilios.  Pe. 
But all this while you forget the poor Creature that occasioned this Discourse. What Advice would you give her now?  Ga. 
To think of her Misfortune as little as she can, and make the best of a bad Market; to clap her hand before her Mouth whenever her Husband offers to Kiss her; and lastly, when she goes to Bed to him, to put on a Head-piece, and a complete suit of Armour.  Pe. 
And whither do you intent to steer your Course when you leave me?  Ga. 
Straight to my Closet.  Pe▪ 
What mighty work is carrying on there, I beseech ye?  Ga. 
They spoke to me to write an Epithalamium, but I design to disappoint them, and write an Epitaph upon this occasion.   

THE Golden Ass, Or, The Wealthy Miser.  
COL. V.  
A Pleasant description of a Rich Usurer's way of Living, who from a sordid. Condition arrived to a prodigious Wealth. That such Estates generally come to a Prodigal Son, who squanders away all that Money in Whoring and Drinking, which his penurious Father scraped together by Injustice and Oppression.  James. Gilbert. ja. 
MErcy on us! what an alteration is here? Why where hast thou been, old Friend of mine, all this while, that thou art returned so Meager and Chapfallen, as if thou hadst found out the Mystery of living like Grasshoppers upon dew? There are Twenty Skeletons yonder at Surgeon's Hall that look Fifty per Cent. better than thou dost. Thy Rump Bone has grated its way through thy Breeches, and, as the Fellow in Bartholomew Fair said, looks like the Ace of Spades. I dare engage, that were a Man to shake thee, thy Bones would rattle in that withered Hide like three blue Beans in a blue Bladder.  Gil. 
Those worthy Gentlemen the Poets tell us, that in the Regions below the Ghosts are glad to feed upon Leeks and Mallows, but I have been Ten Months in a confounded place, where even these Dainties were not to be had.  ja. 
In what part of the World I wonder? Perhaps thou hast been starved and bastinadoed into this fine Shape at Algiers, or got it by tugging and sweeting in a Galley.  Gil. 
No, you are mistaken. I have been all this while in his Most Christian Majesty's most Pagan Territories, and if you'll have me particular to the place, at BOURDEAUX.  ja. 
But how I wonder came it about, that you ran the risk of starving in a City so Rich, and provided with every thing?  Gi. 
'Tis even so as I tell you.  ja. 
Prithee what might be the occasion of it? was the Ready all gone, and your Pockets quite foundered?  Gi. 
No I'faith I can't pretend that I wanted either Money or Friends.  ja. 
For my part I am not able to unriddle this Mystery; but explain it if you please.  Ga. 
You must know that some Business in the way of Trade led me to this City, since the Conclusion of the late Peace; and I both Lodged and Dieted with a famous Merchant Monsieur le Maugre.  ja. 
That Rich old Fellow that has purchased so many Lordships, and had the fleecing of so many young Spendthrifts in his time?  Gi. 
The same; but the most penurious, sordid Hunks that ever Cheated the Gallows.  ja. 
'Tis a Prodigy to me, that Men of Bulk and Substance, who are above the apprehensions of Poverty should deny themselves the Pleasures, but much more the Conveniences of Life.  Gi. 
I don't wonder at it, for 'tis by this sordid way of Living, that from little or nothing to begin the World with, they scrape so much Wealth together.  ja. 
But why then should you choose to pass so many Months with him of all the Men in the World, when you knew his Character before hand?  Gi. 
There was an Account of a long standing to be made up between us, and besides I had a great fancy, how it came into my Head I don't know, to see the management of his Family.  Ja. 
Pray Communicate your Observations to a Friend then, for you have set my Curiosity on Tiptoe to know how it fared with you.  Gi. 
With all my heart, for 'tis no little pleasure to run over the Hardships one has sustained.  ja. 
I am confident the Relation will be very diverting to me.  Gi. 
To Crown my Miseries, Providence so ordered it that the Wind sat full North for three whole Months; only this I must tell you, though I am not Philosopher enough to assign the Reason for't, that it never held in that Quarter above eight Days together.  ja. 
Why then did you tell me it kept there three whole Months?  Gi. 
Upon the eighth Day, as if by Agreement, if shifted its Station, where it continued for some seven or eight Hours, and then veered to the Old Point again.  ja. 
So Slender, and I was going to say so Transparent a Body as yours, wanted a good lusty Fire to keep it from Starving.  Gi. 
A plague on't, there was no want of Fire, if we had had but Wood enough; but our most worthy Landlord, old Scrape-all, to save all the Expenses possible in Firing, ordered his Servants to steal old Roots and Stump of Trees, which no one else thought worth the while to grub up but himself, and had them brought home privately in the Night. Of these precious Stump not a quarter dried enough, our Fire was made, which to do it Justice smoked plentifully, but never flamed out; so that though it did not warm us, we could not say there was no Fire, and that was all our Landlord aimed at. One of these Fires would last us a whole day, so obstinately did these perverse, knotty Logs hold it out.  ja. 
Why, this was a cursed place for a Man to pass his Winter in.  Gi. 
'Twas so, and yet 'twas a thousand times worse to stay a Summer there.  ja. 
How could that be I wonder?  Gi. 
Because the House was so damnably plagued with Fleas, and Bugs, and Gnats, that there was no resting for them in the day time, nor no sleeping in the night.  ja. 
What a wretched Wealth was here?  Gi. 
Few Men I must own, were Wealthier than our Master in this sort of Cattle.  ja. 
Surely you had no Women in the Family, or else they were heathenish, lazy Sluts.  Gi. 
The Females were mewed up in an Apartment by themselves, and seldom came among the Men, so they did none of those Services which properly belong to that Sex in other Families.  ja. 
But how could the Master of the House endure all this Filth and Nastiness?  Gi. 
Pshaw! he was used to it from his Cradle, and minded nothing in the World but scraping of Riches. He loved to be any where but at Home, and Traded in every thing you can think off; for Bourdeaux you know is a Town of great Commerce and Business. The famous Painter, whose Name is now out of my Head, thought the day lost wherein he did not employ his Pencil, and our Lanlord looked upon himself as undone, if one single day passed over his Head without some Profit or Advantage; and if such a Disaster happened to him, he did not fail to make it out one way or other at Home.  ja. 
Why, what was his Method?  Gi. 
He had a Cistern of Water in his Court-yard, as most of the People of that City have, out of which he drew so many Buckets of Cold Adam, and flung them into his Hogsheads: This was a most certain profit to him.  ja. 
I suppose the Wine was somewhat of the strongest then, and wanted this Humiliation.  Gi. 
Far from that, it was as dead as a Door-nail, for he never bought any Wine but what was decayed to his Hand, to have it at an easier Rate; and that he might not lose a drop of this Gut-griping stuff, he would jumble and tumble ye the Grounds of, at least, Ten Years standing, and set them a fermenting together, that it might pass for New Wine upon the Lee; for, as I told you before, he would not have lost the least pint-full of Grounds to save his Grandfather's Soul.  ja. 
If the Doctor's word may be taken, this sort of Wine never fails to Reward a Man with the Stone at long run.  Gi. 
They are certainly in the right on't, and in the most healthful years two or three at least of the Family had their Heels tripped up with this Distemper. But what was this to Monsieur le Maugre? He never troubled his Head about the Business, nor cared a farthing how many Burials went out of his House, not he I promise you.  ja. 
'Tis strange, but what was the reason?  Gi. 
He made a Penny even of the Dead, and the Grave paid a Tribute to him. There was no gain so contemptible and base but what he would catch at as greedily as a Gudgeon at a Fly.  ja. 
Under favour, this was downright Theft though.  Gi. 
Your Merchants call it turning an honest penny, or christian it by the Name of good Husbandry.  ja. 
Well, but what sort of Liquor did the old Hunks drink all this while?  Gi. 
The very same Nectar almost that I told you of.  ja. 
And did he find no harm, no inconvenience by it?  Gi. 
You know the old Proverb, No Carrion will Kill a Crow. Besides, he had a Body as hard as a Flint, and could have made a hearty Meal upon Hay or chopped Straw. Had he been in Nebuchadnezzar's Case, it had been no Punishment to have sent him to Grass. The Prodigal Son in the Gospel when he robbed the poor Swine and fed upon Husks was a perfect Epicure to him; He had accustomed himself to this delicious Fare from his Infancy. But to return to our Subject. He looked upon this Dashing and Brewing of his Wine to be a most certain Profit to him.  ja. 
How so I beseech you?  Gi. 
You'll soon find it out by the help of a very little Arithmetic. If you reckon his Wife, his Sons, his Daughter, his Son-in-law, his Men servants, and his Maid servants, he had about Thirty three Mouths to provide for in the Family: Now the more he Corrected his Wine with Water, the less of it was drunk, and the longer it was a drawing off. So then, if you Compute a large Bucket of Water thrown in every day of the Week, it will amount to no despicable Sum, let me tell you, at the Year's end.  ja. 
Oh! sordid Rascal! I never heard of such a Monster before.  Gi. 
This was not all, he made the same advantage by his Bread.  ja. 
More mysterious still; and how could that be?  Gi. 
He would never buy you any Wheat but what was musty, and such as the meanest Porter in the City would scorn to buy for his own Eating. Now in the first place here was a present gain, because he bought it so much Cheaper, and then he had a never-failing trick to cure the Mustiness.  ja. 
I long to hear what it was.  Gi. 
There is a sort of Chalk, if you have observed it, not altogether unlike to Corn, which you may see Horses are delighted with, when they gnaw it out of the Walls, and Drink more freely than usual of that Pond water, where this Chalk is to be found. He mixed one Third part at least of this Earth with his Bread.  ja. 
And do you call this Curing it?  Gi. 
I know by experience, that it made the Mustiness of the Corn to be not altogether so perceivable. Now tell me, was not this a considerable Profit? Besides, he had another Stratagem in reserve, for he Baked his own Bread at Home, which in the very midst of Summer he never did oftener than twice a Month.  ja. 
Why surely it must be as hard as Marble.  Gi. 
And harder if 'tis possible; but we had a Remedy at hand for that too.  ja. 
Perhaps worse than the Disease, but what was it?  Gi. 
With much tugging and sweeting we cut this delicious Bread into fine thin Slices, and soaked them in the Wine.  ja. 
The Devil a Barrel the better Herring; but how did the Servants bear this abominable Usage?  Gi. 
First let me tell you how the Top folks of the Family were served, and then you may easily conjecture how the Servants fared.  ja. 
I am in pain till you acquaint me.  Gi. 
It was as bad as Treason to mention that Apocryphal Word, Breakfast in the Family; and as for Dinner, it was generally deferred till One of the Clock in the Afternoon.  ja. 
Why so?  Gi. 
We were obliged, you may think, in good Manners to stay till the Master of the Family came Home, and we seldom Supped before Ten.  ja. 
Well but old Friend of mine, how could your Stomach brook to be postponed so? I have known the time when it was not endued with this admirable Gift of Christian Patience.  Gi. 
You shall hear. I called every other Moment upon our Landlord's Son-in-law▪ who lay upon the same Floor with myself; Ho I Monsieur, said I, do ye make no Dining here at Bourdeaux? For the Lord's sake, Sir, said he, stay a little, my Father will be here in a minute. Finding not the least motion towards Dinner, and my Guts very mutinous, hark you Friend, cried I, will you starve us here? The courteous Gentleman begged my pardon once more, and desired an Hour longer, or some such trifle. Being unable any longer to bear the cursed Clamour which my Bowels made, I bawled out again as loud as my Lungs would give me leave, the Devil's in this Family I think, what must we be all famished? When the Monsieur found that he had no more Excuses to make, he went down to the Servants and ordered them to lay the Cloth; all this while no Master of the House came, and Dinner seemed to be as far off as ever; so the Son-in-law wearied with the Complaints I perpetually rattled in his Ears, went to the Apartment where his Wife, and Mother, and Children were, and desired them to give Orders for Dinner.  ja. 
Well, now I expect to hear how your Entertainment was served in.  Gil. 
Pray bened so hasty. At last a lame ill favoured Fellow, such as they paint Vulcan, laid the Napkins upon the Table, for that it seems was his Province. This was the first step made towards Dinner, and about an hour after, two glass Bottles filled with Water were brought into the Room, but not till I had made myself as hoarse as a More-field Organ with calling to them.  ja. 
Here's another step I see towards Dinner.  Gil. 
Don't be so hasty I tell you. At a considerable distance of time, but not without a world of knocking, and bawling, and quarrelling, a Bottle of the abovementioned Wine, but as thick as Dishwater, was set upon the side-board.  ja. 
That's well, however.  Gil. 
But not a jot of Bread came along with it, though there was no great danger we should touch it; for one of  Col. 
Walker's Starvelings in London derry would have refused such Stuff. We bawled and roared again, till we had almost split our Wind-pipes, and at last the Bread appeared, but so rock● and hard, that I would defy the strongest Bear in Muscovy to break it asunder with his jaws.  ja. 
Well, but now there was no danger of starving, which is a blessing you know?  Gil. 
Late in the afternoon our Worshipful Landlord came home, and generally with this unlucky pretence that his Belly ached.  ja. 
Why, what the Plague was that to you, or any one else?  Gil. 
Only this much that then we went fasting to Bed; for who could have the Ill Manners to think of eating, when the Master of the House was out of order.  ja. 
But was he really sick?  Gil. 
So very sick, that he would have devoured ye a rump of Beef and a couple of Capons if you would have Treated him.  ja. 
Well, Now, Sir, if you please to let me know your Bill of Fare.  Gil. 
In the first place, there was served in a little Plateful of Gray-pease, which the Women there cry about the Streets, and sell to ordinary People; and this Regale was for the old Gentleman's own eating. He pretended that this was his Remedy against all Diseases.  ja. 
How many were there of you that sat down to Table?  Gil. 
Sometimes eight or nine, among whom was Monsieur Baudin, a learned Gentleman, to whose Character I suppose you are no stranger, and our Landlord's eldest Son.  ja. 
And what had they set before them to eat?  Gil. 
What? why, the same that Melchisedeck offered to Abraham, after he had Conquered the five Kings. And was not that enough in conscience for any reasonable Man?  ja. 
But had you no Meat at all.  Gil. 
Yes, but very little, God knows. I remember that once nine of us sat down to Dinner, but may I pass another Winter there, if we had any thing else but seven small Lettice-leaves, swimming most daintily in Vinegar, but not a jot of Oil to bear them company.  ja. 
Well, but did old Pinchgut devour all his Gray-pease by himself?  Gil. 
You must know, he bought but a Farthings worth of them; however, he did not absolutely forbid those that sat next him to taste them; but it looked somewhat Clownish, or worse to rob a sick Man of his Victuals.  ja. 
But were not your Lettice-leaves split with great dexterity to make the greater show.  Gil. 
Why, truly no, that I must needs say; and when those that sat at the upper end of the Table had eaten these Leaves, the rest of the Guests sopped their Bread in the Vinegar, and eat it in their own Defence.  ja. 
And what I pray came after these seven Lettice-leaves.  Gil. 
A very merry Question I'faith. What came after? Why, what but the constant Epilogue of all Dinners, the Cheese.  ja. 
Pardon my Curiosity, but was this your daily Fare?  Gil. 
Generally speaking it was, but now and then when the old Gentleman had the good Luck to overreach any one in the way of Trade, he would be a little more open hearted.  ja. 
I long to know how he Entertained you then.  Gil. 
Upon such an occasion he would so far play the Prodigal, as to lay ye out a whole Penny, with which he would order three fresh Bunches of Grapes to be bought. On such an extravagant gaudy Day as this, the Family was like to run out of their Wits.  ja. 
And had but too much Reason for't, by what I perceive.  Gil. 
We were regalled in this manner never but when Grapes were dog cheap.  ja. 
So then I find he never treated you but in the Autumn.  Gil. 
Yes, hang him, he did. You have Fishermen there that take ye a world of Cockles, and chiefly out of the Common-shores', which they Cry about the Streets. In this precious Commodity he would sometimes out of his great Generosity lay out an Halfpenny. You'd have sworn then that we had a Wedding Feast in the Family: There was a Fire made in the Kitchen, tho' not very great, for these Cockles you must understand are boiled in a minute. This rare Dish came always after the Cheese, and served instead of a Desert.  Ja. 
A most extraordinary Desert upon my word. Well but had you never any Flesh or Fish to keep your Stomaches in play?  Gil. 
At last the Old Gentleman, wearied and overcome with the Reproaches I made him, began to be somewhat more splendid in his Eating. Now when he designed to play the Epicure in good earnest, the Bill of Fare was as follows.  Ja. 
I shall imagine myself now at Lockets, or the Blue Posts in the Hay-Market.  Gil. 
Imprimis, We had a Dish of Soop seasoned with the following Spices. They took you a large Kettle of Water and set it over the Fire; into it they flung several pieces of Skimm'd-Milk Cheese, but as hard as Iron. In short, there was no hewing of it without a good Hatchet. At last these venerable Fragments of Cheese would begin to grow a little better natured, by Virtue of the Fire beneath, and then they discoloured the abovementioned Water so prettily, that a Man could not positively say 'twas mere Element. Now, Sir, this Soop was brought in as a preparative for the Stomach.  Ja. 
Soop do ye call it; 'twas only fit for the Hogs.  Gil. 
When this was taken away, we had in the next place a small dimunitive Dish of Tripe, that was boiled at least fifteen days before.  Ja. 
Surely then it stunk most egregiously.  Gil. 
It did so; but we had a trick to help that.  Ja. 
Prithee what was it?  Gil. 
I am afraid you'll use it yourself, if I tell you.  Ja. 
Ay marry, Sir, there's great danger of that.  Gil. 
They would put ye an Egg or two into warm Water and beat them well together, than they daubed the Tripe over with this Liquor. By this means your Eyes were cheated, but 'twas impossible to cheat your Nose, for the stink, I warrant ye, would force its way through a Stone Wall. If it happened to be a Fish day, we had sometimes three Whiting, and those the smallest the Market afforded, though there were seven or eight of us at Table.  ja. 
But you had something else I suppose?  Gil. 
Nothing but that confounded Cheese I told you of, as hard as an Usurer's Conscience. An Ostrich that makes nothing to Breakfast upon Iron could never digest it.  Ja. 
Well, Monsieur le Maugre is the oddest Epicure I ever heard of; but prithee answer me one Civil Question: How a God's Name could such slender Provision be enough for so many Guests of you, especially since you had no Breakfast to blunt the edge of your Stomaches?  Gil. 
Nay Sir, I shall increase your wonder when I tell you that the remainders of our Dinner fed the Mother-in-lay, and the Daughter-in-law, the youngest Son, a Servant maid, and a Litter of Children.  Ja. 
You have indeed; 'tis now a greater Riddle to me than before.  Gil. 
'Tis impossible for me to explain this difficulty to you, until I first represent to you in what Order we sat at Table.  Ja. 
Let me beg that favour of you then.  Gil. 
Our Landlord sat at the upper end, and my Worship on the right hand of him; his Son-in-law Monsieur Peu directly overagainst our Landlord; Monsieur Baudin sat next to Monsieur Peu, and one Constantine a Grecian next to him: But I forgot to tell you, that our Landlord's Eldest Son, the Heir apparent of the Family, sat on his Father's left hand. If any Stranger came to Dine with us, he was placed according to his Quality. As for the Soop, there was no great danger of its being eaten up; but you must know that in the Plates of those worthy Gentlemen, who had the honour of being chiefly in our Landlord's good Graces, a few little Bits of the damned Cheese abovementioned floated up and down, and looked like the Maldivy Islands in a Map of the East-Indies. This execrable Hogwash was encompassed with some four or five Bottles that held Wine and Water, which formed a sort of a Barricado, so that no body could reach his Spoon to it, except the Three before whom the Dish stood, unless he had a mind to be very Impudent indeed, and Scale the Walls of the Garrison: However this Dish did not stay there long, but was soon taken away that something might be left for the Family.  Ja. 
How did the rest employ themselves all this while, I pray?  Gil. 
Why, they regaled themselves after the old delicious manner; they soaked their Bread, which as I told you before, was half Wheat and half Chalk, in that sour thick nasty Wine, and so fed upon't.  Ja. 
Your Dinner certainly used to be over in a minute.  Gil. 
You are mistaken, it held above an hour.  Ja. 
I can't imagine how that could be.  Gil. 
After the Servants had taken away the Soop, which you may remember was none of the most tempting fare, the Cheese was set upon the Table, which run no great risk of being much demolished, for it defied the sharpest Knife that ever appeared at the keenest Ordinary. Every Man's Portion of Bread and Wine stood before him still, and over these Dantios we were at leisure to Chat, and tell Stories, and divert ourselves; in the mean time the Women Dined.  Ja. 
But how did the Servants fare after all?  Gil. 
They had nothing in Common with us, but Dined and Supped at their own Hours: But this I must tell you, that take the whole day, they did not spend above half an hour at their Victuals.  Ja. 
I desire once more to know how they were served?  Gil. 
You need not give me that trouble, but may easily guests.  Ja. 
Your Germane now think an Hour too little to Breakfast in; they take the same time generally at their Beaver; an hour and half at least goes at Dinner, and at least two hours at Supper; Then unless their Bellies are well filled with the best Wine, and Flesh and Fish of all sorts, they immediately discard their Masters, and run to the Army.  Gil. 
Every Nation has its peculiar Genius and way of Living. The Italians bestow but very little upon their Bellies; they would rather you should give them a piece of Money than the best Entertainment, and this Frugality or Temperance they rather owe to Nature than Custom.  Ja. 
Well, now I don't wonder that you are come Home so Lean, but rather how you could make a shift to keep Body and Soul together so long, since to my knowledge you were so used to Capons, and Patridges, and Pigeons, and Pheasants, with a long Et Cetera too tedious to be mentioned.  Gil. 
Why Troth I had very fairly trooped off, if I had not bethought myself of due Remedies.  Ja. 
The World went very ill with you for certain, when you were forced to Bettress it with these Remedies as you call them.  Gil. 
I brought matters about so, that I had the fourth part of a boiled Pullet allowed me every meal, to keep up my languishing Spirits.  Ja. 
Ay marry, now you begin to live.  Gil. 
Not altogether so well as you imagine. Old Gripe bought the Pullet's himself, but they were the least he could lay his Hands on, to save Expenses. I dare engage that six of them would not serve a Polander of a tolerable Stomach to make his breakfast on; and when he had bought them he would not give them the least corn, because forsooth he would not put himself to extraordinary Charges. Thus a Wing or a Leg of the poor Fowl▪ that was half starved before they put it into the Pot, fell to my share, and the Liver always went to Monsieur Peu's little Son. As for the Broth they made of it, the Women perpetually lapped it up, and every other minute would put you fresh Water into the Pot, to make this precious Pottage hold out the longer. Now when it was perfectly boiled to Rags, and as dry as a Chip, a Leg of it or so came to your humble Servant. The Broth was nothing in the world but Water bewitched, if it deserved so good a Name.  ja. 
And yet People tell me that you have all sorts of Fowl there in great Plenty and Perfection, and exceeding cheap.  Gil. 
'Tis even so, but Money is harder to come by.  ja. 
You have done Pennance enough one would think, tho' you have knocked the old Gentleman at the Vatican in the Head, or untrussed a Point upon S. Peter's Tomb.  Gil. 
But hear the rest of the Farce out. You know there are five days in every Week, on which 'tis lawful to eat Flesh.  ja. 
Well, and what of that?  Gil. 
So our Landlord made two Pullet's last the whole Week; for on Thursday he would pretend that he forgot to go to Market, lest he should be obliged to spend a whole Pullet on that day, or lest any of it should be left to the Servants.  ja. 
By what I perceive, your Landlord was ten times a greater Miser than Enelio in Plantus. But on Fish days what course did ye take I wonder to keep yourself alive?  Gil. 
I employed a certain Friend of mine to buy me three Eggs every morning with my own Money; two for Dinner, and one for Supper. But here the Women played the Devil with me; for instead of new laid Eggs, (and I'm sure I paid as if they had been such) they would give me rotten ones, such as were only fit to be levelled at a Pillory: So that I thought myself very kindly and courteously dealt with indeed; if one of my three Eggs proved eatable. I likewise bought me some Flasks of good Wine for my own drinking, but those everlasting Harpies the Women broke up my Cellar door, and in a few days did not leave me a drop; neither was our most incomparable Landlord much displeased at the Matter.  ja. 
But did none of the Family take pity of your sad Condition?  Gil. 
Take pity, say you? No, they called me Glutton and Cormorant, and ravenous Monster that would certainly bring a Famine into their Country. Upon this Head that accomplished Gentleman, Monsieur Peu would frequently give me good Advice; he soberly and gravely counselled me to consider the Place where I lived, and to have some regard to my Health in so ticklish a Climate, giving me the Names of several of my Countrymen, who had either died Martyrs to their own Gluttony, or contracted very dangerous Distempers by it. When notwithstanding these wholesome Admonitions, which he daily poured into my Ears, he found me an incorrigible Reprobate to my Guts, and ever now and then propping my Lean, Sickly, feeble Carcase with some foolish Trifles that were to be had at the Confectioners, made of the Kernels of Pine-apples, Melons, and such worthy Stuff; when I say he found me so entirely abandoned to the Interest of my Belly, and so prodigally pampering myself, he got a certain Physician, with whom he knew I was acquainted, to persuade me to a more Temperate course of Life, and be less indulgent to myself in Diet. The Doctor, to give him his due, performed his part notably, and inculcated these pious Precepts to me every morning. I soon perceived, that he was set on to do it, and suited my Answers accordingly. At last finding him perpetually to harp upon this String, so that his Company grew nauseous and troublesome; Worthy Doctor, said I to him, Pray answer me one civil Question, do ye speak this in jest or in earnest? Oh in earnest, replied he, well then, continued I, what would you have me do? Why, to leave off Suppers for good and all, said he, and to mix at least one half Water with your Wine. I could not forbear laughing at this extraordinary Advice; so said I to him, Doctor, if 'tis your Will and Pleasure to see me decently laid in a Churchyard, you take an infallible course to bring it about; for I'm sure it would be present death to me, in the present Circumstances of this poor dispirited Body, to leave off Suppers; and I am so confident of this Truth, that I am loath to make the Experiment. What do you think would become of me, if after such scurvy Dinners as we have here, I should go Supperless to Bed? And then to bid me mingle Water with such weak instiped Wine, pray consider, is it not infinitely better to drink clear Water as it comes from the Fountain, than to debauch it with such wretched sour stuff. I don't question but that Monsieur Peu (a Plague take him for't) ordered you to give me this ghostly Advice; for indeed 'tis fitter for one of Glanvill ' s, or Mr. Aubry ' s Spectres, then for Flesh and Blood to follow. At this the Doctor smiled inspite of his affected Gravity, and was pleased to allow me better Terms than before. Worthy Sir, cried he, I did not say this to you with an intention that you should totally leave off Supper; you may eat an Egg and drink a Glass of Wine, for this is my own manner of living. I have an Egg boiled me for my Supper, one half of the Yolk I eat myself, and I give my Son the other half, than I drink half a Glass of Wine, and by Virtue of this Refreshment, I make a shift to study till late in the Night.  ja. 
But did not this Physician put the Doctor upon you, as the saying is? Do you think this Account he gave of himself was true?  Gil. 
Ay, most certainly. As I was once coming home from Church, a Gentleman that bore me Company, pointing to a certain House, told me the Doctor lived there. Upon this I had a curiosity to visit his Quarters; so I knocked at the Door, and in I came. I remember it was a Sunday of all the Days of the Year, and I surprised the Doctor with his Son, and a Servant at Dinner. The Bill of Fare was a couple of Eggs, and the Devil a jot of any thing else.  ja. 
Why, surely these People were scarce able to crawl. They would have made most excellent Ghosts for a Play, I warrant you.  Gil. 
Far from that, they were both plump and in good liking, their Eyes brisk and lively, and their Cheeks fresh coloured and ruddy.  ja. 
'Tis wonderful strange, I can scarce bring myself to believe it.  Gil. 
Nothing is truer I can assure you. The Doctor is not the only Person that lives thus, but several others, Men of Bulk and Substance in the World. Take my word for't, much eating and much drinking is a matter of Custom rather than Nature. If a Man uses himself to a spare Diet, he may even carry it as far as he pleases, and be the Reverse of Milo, who, as History tells us, came from eating a Calf to devour a whole Ox at a sitting.  ja. 
Good Heavens! if 'tis possible for a Man to preserve his Health with so little Nourishment, I can't but think what a prodigious Expense the English, the Germans, the Danes and Polanders squander away upon their Bellies.  Gil. 
No doubt on't but they might save half in half in their Kitchens, which now they foolishly consume to the apparent Prejudice of their Healths, as well as Understandings.  ja. 
But why then Noble Sir, could not you content yourself with this Philosophical Fare.  Gil. 
I had accustomed myself all along to several Dishes, and it was too late to alter my way of living then. Tho' to tell you the truth, I was rather Scandalised at the Quality, than at the quantity of their Victuals. Two Eggs would have served me very well for Supper, if they had been fresh laid; and half a pint of Wine would have been enough in all conscience, if it had not been as thick as Mustard, and as sour as Vinegar. To conclude, one quarter of the Bread would have been as much as I could compass, if they had not given me Chalk instead of Bread.  ja. 
Lord! that your Landlord Monsieur le Maugre should be such a sordid Wretch amidst so prodigious a Wealth?  Gil. 
I speak within compass, when I tell you that he was worth fourscore thousand Ducats the least Penny, and never a year passed over his head that he did not get a thousand Pounds clear in the way of Merchandise. I speak the least.  ja. 
And did those hopeful young Sparks, to whom he designed all these Riches, use the same Parsimony.  Gil. 
They did, but it was only at home. When they were got abroad, they Eat, and Drank, and Whored and Gamed most plentifully; and while their penurious old Dad thought it much to spend one single sixpence at his House, to Treat the best Relations and Friends he had in the whole world, these prodigal Rakchells would make you nothing to lose fourscore broad Pieces in a night at Play.  ja. 
This is the usual Fate of your great Estates that are gotten with Griping and Oppression. What is got over the Devil's Back, we say, is spent under his Belly.— But if I may be so bold as to ask you one Question, now you have scaped this enchanted Country, where are you steering your Course?  Gil. 
Why, to a parcel of jolly Companions at the Rummer in Queen-street, to see if I can make myself amends there, for all the Hardships I have suffered abroad.   

Xantippe, Or, The Imperious Wife.  
COL. VI  
The Duty of wives. Husbands, tho' never so Untowardly and Vicious not to be Treated with Contempt or ill Language. A Scolding Wife generally makes her Husband a greater Sot instead of amending him. Some Instances of Virtuous Ladies that have reclaimed their Husbands from an ill course of Life, by Gentleness and good Usage.  Eulalia. Xantippe. Eu. 
MY dear Xantippe a good Morning to you.  Xan. 
The same to you Eulalia. You look Prettier than you used to do methinks.  Eu. 
What do you begin to jeer me already?  Xan. 
Not I upon my word, I abhor it. But so you seem to me, I'll assure you.  Eu. 
Perhaps than my New clothes may set me off to advantage.  Xan. 
You guess right, 'tis one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld, and then the Trimming too is so agreeable. Well you have the best Fancy with you of any Woman in the World. 'Tis English Cloth I suppose?  Eu. 
The Wool indeed is English, but it was Died at Venice.  Xan. 
Bless me! it feels as soft as Silk, and the Colour is the most bewitching that can be: But who gave you this fine Present I wonder?  Eu. 
From whom should a virtuous Wife receive any Presents, but from her Husband?  Xan. 
Well! you are a Happy Woman, that you are, to have that precious Jewel, a good Husband: For my part, I wish I had Married a Mushroom, a Bean-stalk, the head of an old Base Viol, or any thing, when the Parson joined me to this Sot, this incorrigible Beast.  Eu. 
What, is your House until'd already, and is it come to a Rupture between you?  Xan. 
And so it is like to hold to the end of the Chapter for me. Do but see what a pitiful Manteau I am forced to wear; and yet he is glad to see me go so like a Dowdy. May I never stir, if I am not ashamed to go to Church, or a Gossipping, to see how much Finer my Neighbours are Dressed than me, whose Husbands, though I say it, have not a quarter of the Estate, that mine has.  Eu. 
The true Ornament of a Matron, as our Doctor will inform you, does not consist in gaudy clothes, and a rich outside, in jewels and Necklaces, but in Meekness and Chastity, and in the Endowments of the Mind. Harlot's are tricked up on purpose to draw in Customers, but an honest Woman is set out to all the advantage she can desire, if she's but so happy as to please her Husband.  Xan. 
In the mean time this most worthy Tool of mine, who grudges every Farthing that is laid out upon his Wife, takes all the pains in the World to squander away the Fortune I brought him, which, by the by, was not Contemptible.  Eu. 
As how I pray?  Xan. 
Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes upon his Whores, sometimes at Gaming, or at the Tavern.  Eu. 
Oh Fie! You should never say this of your Husband.  Xan. 
But I'll justify it to be true; and then when the Brute comes home at Midnight with his Cargo of Claret in his Guts, and stinking of Tobacco worse than a Polecat, he does nothing but snore all the Night long; and 'tis a Mercy if he leaves nothing but his Wine between the Sheets, for sometimes 'tis worse with him.  Eu. 
Peace, I'll hear no more of this; you forget that you really lessen yourself when you lessen your Husband.  Xan. 
Let me die if I would not rather take up my Quarters in a Pigsty with a cleanly Hog, than lie with such a mixture of Nastiness and Brutality.  Eu. 
And when you find him in such a pickle, don't you scold at him to some purpose?  Xan. 
Yes indeed I use him as he deserves. I suppose he's satisfied that I have Lungs upon occasion.  Eu. 
Well, and how does he relish this Treatment?  Xan. 
At first he bounced and swaggered most Heroically, thinking to fright me with his Big words and all that.  Eu. 
And did it never come to downright Blows between you?  Xan. 
Once, and but once, the Quarrel rose so high, that we were within an Ace of Fifty Cuffs.  Eu. 
What's this I hear?  Xan. 
My Spark had a Crabtree Cudgel in his Hand, which he lifted up, Swearing and Cursing like a Foot Soldier at an unbelieving Country Innkeeper, and threatening to make a severe example of me.  Eu. 
And were you not afraid that he'd be as good as his word?  Xan. 
To prevent that, I snatched up a Three-legged Stool, and told him that I'd Comb his Head with it, if he offered to touch me with his little Finger.  Eu. 
A merry sort of a Buckler upon my word.  Xan. 
Had he not sounded a Retreat, he had found to his Cost, I believe, that he had no Child to deal with.  Eu. 
Oh my dear Xantippe you do ill in this, I must tell you.  Xan. 
Pray in what respect? For if he does not use me as his Wife, I don't know why I should use him as my Husband,  Eu 
The New Testament will tell you other things; St. Paul says that Wives ought to be subject to their Husbands with all Reverence; and St. Peter proposes the example of Sarah to us, who called her Husband Abraham, Lord.  Xan. 
This I know full well; but the Apostle you first mentioned, likewise Teaches, that Men should love their Wives, as Christ loved his Spouse the Church: Let him put his own Duty in Practice, and I'll not forget mine I promise you.  Eu. 
Well, but when things are come to such a Dilemma, that either the Wife or Husband must knock under the Table, I think it but reasonable that the Woman should submit to the Man.  Xan. 
Why must I look upon him to be my Husband, who uses me worse than a Kitchenwench?  Eu. 
But tell me, Xantippe, did he never threaten to beat you after this?  Xan. 
No, no, he grew wiser and repented of his Valour; otherwise he had caught a Tartar, I can tell him but that.  Eu. 
So then I hope you left off Scolding at him.  Xan. 
No, never while I have this Tongue in my Head.  Eu. 
But how does your Husband bear it all this while?  Xan. 
Why sometimes he pretends to be fast asleep, sometimes he does nothing in the world but Laugh, and sometimes he takes his confounded Fiddle, with no more than three Strings to't, and scrapes ye upon the battered old Instrument with as much might and pains as if he were a Threshing, and all this on purpose to stop my Pipe.  Eu. 
And did not that vex the very Heart of you?  Xan. 
So much, that I could almost have tore him to pieces for downright Madness.  Lu. 
Well, my dear Xantippe, will you give me leave to talk a little freely to you?  Xan. 
With all my Heart, say what you please.  Eu. 
Nay you shall do as much with me: And this I think is no more than what our long Acquaintance will warrant, for You and I have known one another from our Cradles.  Xan. 
You say true, and there's none of my Play fellows I love better than yourself.  Eu. 
Let your Husband prove what he will, yet I'd have you still carry it in your Mind, that it is not in your Power to change him for another. Heretofore, indeed, when things came to an open Rupture, and no Reconciliation could be hoped for, a Divorce might set both Parties at ease, which is not to be done at this time of day; for now you must bear with him for better, for worse to the last breath in your Body: Try what Tricks you please, he will still be your Husband, and you his Wife.  Xan. 
How I could rail at those that robbed us of this privilege!  Eu. 
Have a care what you say: No worse a Manthan he that Instituted our Religion, thought fit to lay this Curb upon us.  Xan. 
I can't believe it.  Eu. 
But 'tis as I tell you. So than you Husband and You have nothing left to do, but to suit your Tempers and Dispositions to one another, and to bear the Yoke of Matrimony as contentedly as you can.  Xan. 
But do you think 'tis possible for me to work a Miracle, and to a her the Nature of this insufferable Brute?  Eu. 
You must give me leave to tell you however, that it does not a little depend upon a Wife what sort of a Man her Husband will make.  Xan. 
And do your Husband and you live in perfect Amity?  Eu. 
Yes, Heaven be praised, all is Easy and Quiet with us now.  Xan. 
Then I find there has been some bickering formerly between you.  Eu. 
Nothing that could properly be called a Tempest; only, as no Condition of Life is Perfect on this side Heaven, a few small Clouds began to appear, which might have occasioned very ill Wether, if care had not been taken to prevent it by a wise Conduct. Every one has his peculiar Humours and Fancies, and if we will honestly speak the truth, every one has his Faults more or less, which in the Matrimonial State especially, we ought to Connive at, and not to Hate.  Xan. 
Indeed I must own this to be true.  Eu. 
Now it frequently happens that that good understanding and friendship, which ought to be preserved between a Man and his Wife, is fatally interrupted, before they have any tolerable knowledge of one another. And this is the first thing that ought to be provided against; for when once the Spirit of Division has disunited them, 'tis a difficult matter to make a reconciliation, especially if ever it went so high as to come to Personal Reflections. We see that pieces of Wood which are glued together, if they are rudely used at first, are easily broke asunder; but if you give them time to settle, and the glue is throughly dried, there's no danger of their breaking. For this reason all the care in the World ought to be taken, that in the Infancy of Marriage a good Correspondence be settled between both Parties and take deep rooting. This is principally effected by a mutual complaisance and easiness of Disposition; for Love that has nothing but Beauty to keep it in good health, is Short-lived and apt to have Ague-fits.  Xan. 
Pray then oblige me so far as to tell me by what Arts you made your Husband tractable?  Eu. 
With all my heart, that you may Copy after them.  Xan. 
So I will, if they are but practicable.  Eu. 
Oh the easiest in Nature, if you'll give your Mind to't; and this I must tell you for your comfort, that 'tis not too late to put them in Execution. Your Spouse is in the flower of his Youth, and so are you, and, as I take it, it is not a full Twelvemonth since you were Married.  Xan. 
You are in the right, 'tis thereabouts.  Eu. 
I will tell you then, but upon condition that you'll keep it to yourself.  Xan. 
Never question that. I can be silent as well as another upon occasion.  Eu. 
My first and chief care was to please my good Man in every respect, that nothing might give him offence or disgust. I diligently observed his Inclination and Temper, and what were his easiest moments, what things pleased, and on the other hand what distasted him; and this with as much Application, as your People that tame Elephants, Lions, and such sort of Creatures, that cannot be mastered by downright Strength.  Xan. 
And such an Animal for all the World have I at Home.  Eu. 
Your Keepers of Elephants take care to wear no thing that is White about them, as those that pretend to manage Bulls forbear the use of Red Cloth, because they find by Experience that these Colours are disagreeable to both these Creatures. Thus we see that the beating of a Drum will set a Tiger stark raging Mad, so that he will tear his own Flesh; and thus your jockeys have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and Strokes to flatter their Horses when they are ill conditioned. How much more does it concern us then to use all imaginable means to fix ourselves in our Husband's Good Graces, with whom, whether we will or no, we must Live all our Lives at Bed and at Board, till Death comes to our Relief?  Xan. 
Well, go on with what you have begun.  Eu. 
When, after a diligent examination, I had found out his Humour, I accommodated mine to his, and took care that nothing should offend him.  Xan. 
As how I wonder?  Eu. 
In every thing relating to the Family, which you know is the peculiar Province of the Women, I showed my utmost dexterity and management; for I not only, provided that nothing should be omitted and left undone, but likewise that every thing should be suitable to his Temper, even in Trifles, and matters of the least consequence. As for Instance, If my Husband fancied such a Dish of Meat, and would have it dressed after sueh a manner; if he would have so many Blankets on the Bed, or such Furniture in such a Room, 'twas all done to his Fancy.  Xan. 
But how could you humour a Man that is never at Home, but perpetually Sotting at the Tavern and Drunk?  Eu. 
Hold, I am coming to that Point, If at any time I saw my Husband out of sorts and melancholy, and not caring much to be talked to, I would not for the world Laugh, or put on a gay Humour, as some Women use to do upon the like occasion, but I myself put on a grave, demure Countenance as well as he; for, as a Looking-glass, if it is a true one, faithfully represents the Face of him that looks in it, so a Wife ought to fashion herself to the Affection of her Husband; not to be cheerful when he is sad, nor sad when he is cheerful. Now whenever I found him very Shagreen indeed, I either endeavoured to soothe him with fair words, or else held my Tongue, and waited till this ill Humour had spent itself, and then I took my opportunity to clear all mistakes and to admonish him. The same method I constantly observed, when he came Home somewhat Fuddled or so: At such a time I gave him all the indulgent tender Language I could think off, and by this means got him to Bed.  Xan. 
A blessed Life this, that we poor Wives are forced to lead, if we must humour our Husbands in every thing that comes into their Noddle when Drunk or Angry.  Eu. 
You don't consider that this Duty is Reciprocal, and that our Husbands are obliged to bear the same from us. However there is a critical time when a Wife may take upon her to advise her Husband in Matters of some Importance; for I think it much better to wink at small Faults.  Xan. 
And how is she to know the proper time.  Eu. 
Why, when his Mind is Serene, and nothing disturbs him, when he is cool and sober, than you may admonish, or rather entreat him, and this always in private, as to any thing wherein his Estate, or his Health, or Reputation are concerned. And this very Advice is to be seasoned with some Pleasantries, that it may look as if it were not designed, but accidental. Sometimes by way of Preface, I agree with him before hand that he shan't be angry, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me to interpose my own Counsel in any thing wherein his Honour, or Health, or Preservation are concerned. After I have said as much as I think proper at that time, I turn the Discourse to some more entertaining and agreeable Subject; for under the Rose, be it spoken, this is the Fault of us Women, that when once we have begun to tune our Pipes, we don't know when to give over.  Xan. 
Why so they say indeed.  Eu. 
This I always Religiously observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband before Company, nor to prattle abroad of Miscarriages at home. What passes between two People is much easier made up, than when once it has taken Air; now if ever Matters come to such a pass, that the Husband is incurable, and no longer to be born with, I think it much the prudenter Course for the Wife to carry her Complaints to the Parents, or Relations of her Husband, than to her own Priends, and besides to manage her Complaints with such Discretion, that the World may see she only hates the Vices, and not the Person of her Husband▪ Neither would I have her blab out all she knows, that even here her Husband may be obliged in spite of his Teeth to own and admire her Civility to him.  Xan. 
A Woman must be a Philosopher with a witness, to be able to practise so much Self denial upon herself.  Eu. 
I am of another opinion, for by this Deportment and Conduct we prevail upon our Husbands to return the Kindness again.  Xan. 
Well, but there are Brutes in the World whom all the good usage imaginable will never amend.  Eu. 
I can hardly believe it; but put the case there are, this we ought to take for granted, that let our Husbands prove what they will, we must bear their Humours when once we have chose them, and then I'll appeal to you whether 'tis not infinitely better to soften him by a courteous Temper, or at worst to bear with all his Failings, than by our perpetual Scolding and Railing at him to exasperate and make him ten times worse. I could, if I were so minded, instance in some Husbands, who by the like Sweetnesses have altered their Spouses much for the better, then how much a greater Obligation lies upon us to use our Husbands in this manner.  Xan. 
If you can Instance in such a Man, I must tell you he differs more from my virtuous Husband than Black from White.  Eu. 
I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a very good Family, well Read, and Learned, and a Person of great Address and Dexterity. He married a young Lady of about seventeen years of Age, who had been Educated all along in the Country in her Father's House; for you know Men of Quality love to reside in the Country for the Conveniences of Hunting and Hawking. He was resolved to have a raw unexperienced Maid, that he might have satisfaction of moulding her to his own Fancy. So he began to give her some insight into Books, and to teach her Music, and to use her by degrees to repeat the Heads of the Parson's Sermon, together with several other things, which he thought would be of some use and advantage to her. Now this being wholly new to the Girl, who, as I told you before, had been bred up at home with all the Tenderness and Delicacy that you can imagine, amidst the Flatteries and Submissions of the Servants, she soon grew weary of this Life. She absolutely refused to learn any more, and when her Husband pressed her about it, she would cry and roar as if she were going to be Sacrificed. Sometimes she would throw herself flat upon the ground, and beat her Head against the Floor, and wish that Death would come to end her Affliction; for alas, Life, was a mere burden to her. Her Husband finding that there was no end of this, concealed his Resentments, and invited her to go along with him into the Country to divert themselves there at his Father-in-law's House. The young Lady liked this Motion well enough; so when they came to their journey's end, the Gentleman leaves his Wife with her Mother and Sister, and goes a Hunting with his Father-in-law. When he had him alone in the Fields, he took his opportunity to tell him, that whereas he was in good hopes to have found an agreeable Companion in his Daughter, on the contrary she was always sobbing, and crying, and fretting herself without Reason, and that this unaccountable Habit had taken such deep rooting in her, that he feared she was incurable; however he conjured him to lend him his helping hand, to see if they could between them bring her to a better Temper. His Father-in-law answered, that he had put his Daughter for good and all into his Power, and if she did not behave herself as she ought, he was at liberty to use his own Authority, and to Cudgel her into due Submission. I know my own Power well enough, replies the other, but I had much rather my Wife should be reasoned into her Duty by you, than to come to these Extremities. At last the old Gentleman promised to use all his skill to reduce her, so after a day or two, he takes a proper time and place to discourse in private with his Daughter, and looking somewhat austerely upon her, he began to remind her, how indifferent she was as to her Beauty, how disagreeable as to her Disposition, so that he had often feared that he should never be able to get a Husband for her. But after a long enquiry, and much diligence, said he, I had the good luck to find out one for you that the best Lady in the Land would have been glad of; and yet you, continued he, like an insensible stupid Creature, as you are, neither considering what I your Father have done for you, nor reflecting that your Husband, unless he was the best natured Man in the World, would scorn to take you for his Maid, perpetually dispute his Orders, and Rebel against him. To make short of my Story, the old Gentleman seemed to be in such a Passion by his Discourse, that she expected every minute when he would make her feel the weight of his Hands; for you must know he is so adroit and cunning a Blade, that he would Act ye any part as well as the best Comedian of them all. The young Lady partly wrought upon by her Fear, and partly convinced by the truth of what was told her, threw herself at her Father's Feet, humbly beseeching him to forget past Faults, and promising that she would not be wanting in her Duty for the time to come. Her Father freely forgave her, adding, that she should find him the most indulgent Father upon Earth, provided she kept her word.  Xan. 
Well, but how ended this Affair?  Eu. 
When this Dialogue was over, the young Lady returned directly to her Chamber, where finding her Husband all alone, she fell down upon her Marrowbones, and addressed herself to him in the following manner. Sir, said she, Till this very moment I neither knew you nor myself, but you shall find me another sort of a Wife for the future, only I conjure you to grant me an Act of Oblivion for what is past. She had no sooner made an end, but her Husband took her up in his Arms, and kissed her, promising to do every thing she could desire of him, if she would but continue in that Resolution.  Xan. 
And did she continue in it I wonder.  Ecc. 
Even to the Day of her Death. Nothing was so mean and humble, but she readily went about it, if her Husband would have it so. In short they were the happiest and most loving couple in the whole Country, and the young Lady for several years afterwards would bless her Stars, that it was her good Fortune to light upon such an Husband; for if I had not fallen into his Hands, I had been, she said, the most unhappy Woman upon the face of the Earth.  Xan. 
Such Husbands are as scarce now a days as white Crows. Gresham College, and the Oxford Elaboratory have nothing to match it.  Eu. 
If I have not trespassed too much upon your Patience already, I will tell you a short Story of a certain Gentleman in this City, that was lately reclaimed by the good usage of his Wife.  Xan. 
I have nothing upon my Hands at present, and besides your Conversation is so diverting, that methinks I could always listen to you.  Eu. 
This Gentleman I am going to tell you of was descended from an honourable Family, and he like the rest of his own Estate▪ and Quality, took a mighty delight in Hunting. One day in his Country Rambles, he accidentally met with a pretty young Damsel, Daughter to a poor old Woman that lived in a Hutt facing the Common. He fell desperately in Love with this Creature, as old Men you know like Tinder take Fire in an instant, and when they love, love to some purpose. For the sake of this young Girl he frequently lay from home, and Hunting was still made the Pretence for it. His Lady, a Woman of admirable Conduct and Goodness, suspecting there was more than ordinary in the Matter, was resolved at any rate to find out the bottom of it, and in her search, by what Accident I have now forgot, came to the abovementioned Cottage, where she soon learned all the Particulars, as what he drank, how his Victuals were dressed, where he lay, and so forth. This House was the most wretched dog-hole you could any where see, with not a jot of Furniture to help it off. Away goes this Lady home, and returns immediately, bringing a handsome Bed, and other Conveniencies, and a Set of Plate to use upon occasion. She likewise gave the poor People some Money at parting, and advised them by all means that the next time the Gentleman came that way, they should treat him with more respect, not letting them know that she was his Wife, but pretending to be his Sister. Some few days after this her Husband coming thither, found the Furniture much altered for the better, and his Entertainment more splendid than it used to be.  
Upon this he enquired of them how this sudden change of the Scene happened, and they honestly told him that a Woman of Quality, as she appeared to be by her Dress, brought all those fine things thither, and gave it them it them in charge to Treat him with more Respect for the future. It immediately came into his Head that this was of his Wife's doing; so when he came home, he asked her whether she had been at such a Place, and mentioned it. She told him she had; then he desired to know for what Reason she had sent all that rich Furniture thither? My Dear, says she, I found that your Lodging and Fare there was none of the best, and as I knew you were used to be better Treated at home, I thought it my Duty, that since you took a fancy to the place, to make your Reception more agreeable to you.  Xan. 
The Lady was to blame in my opinion. Had I been in her place, instead of Bedding and all that, I had sent him a bundle of Nettles and Thistles to have cooled his Concupiscence for him.  Eu. 
Well, but hear the Conclusion of my Story. The Gentleman was so surprised at this unusual strain of good Nature and Virtue in his Lady, that he never after violated her Bed, or rambled abroad, but solaced himself with her at home. Now I am upon this Discourse, I suppose you know Mr. Gilbert the Dutch Merchant.  Xan. 
I know him very well.  Eu. 
I need not tell you then that he is in the prime of his Age, and that he Married a Gentlewoman well stricken in years.  Xan. 
I suppose than he was in Love with her Bags, and not with her Person.  Eu. 
That may be as you say, but to proceed. This Spark soon grew weary of his Spouse, and Intrigued with a Mistress in a corner, with whom he spent most of his Time. He seldom Dined or Supped at home. Now, pray tell me what you would have done in such a Case.  Xan. 
Why, I would have torn his Strumpet's Head-cloaths off where ever I had met her; and as for my good Man, I would have sprinkled him from top to toe with Essence of Chamberpot, and in that dainty pickle he should have visited his Baggage, if it was so rampant with him  Eu. 
Well, but how much more prudently did this Gentlewoman carry herself? She Invited this Rival of hers to her own House, and received her with all the Civility imaginable. Thus without going to any of your Rascally Astrologers for a Charm, she kept her Husband at home; but whenever the Maggot took him to Sup with her abroad, she would send you a good Dish or two of Meat to her Lodgings, and desire them to pass their time with one another as merrily as they could.  Xan. 
For my part I should sooner choose to be in my Grave, than to be a Bawd to my own Husband.  Eu. 
But pray consider the Matter soberly and coolly. Was not this infinitely better than if by her Churlishness, and Ill-temper, she had totally alienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole life in quarrelling and bawling.  Xan. 
I must confess that of the two Evils 'tis the least, but I could never have submitted to it.  Ecc. 
I will trouble you but with one other Story, and then I'll have done. This Neighbour of ours that lives next door to us, is a right honest Man, but somewhat Hasty and Choleric. One day it fell out that he beat his Wife, a Woman of extraordinary Prudence. Upon this she immediately withdrew into her Apartment, and there crying and sobbing, endeavoured to give vent to her Resentments. Soon after upon one occasion or other her Husband came into the Room, where he found her drowned in Tears. hay day! says he, what means this putting Finger in Eye, and whimpering like a Child thus? To which she calmly answered, Why, is it not better to lament my misfortune here, than to bawl out and make a noise in the Street, as other Women do. Her Husband was so entirely overcome and disarmed of his Passion by this conjugal Answer, that he gave her his Hand, and solemnly promised that the would never strike her as long as he lived, and he was as good as his word I must tell you.  Xan. 
Well, but Heaven be praised I have brought off my Husband from using me so by a different Conduct.  Eu. 
Right, but then there are perpetual Wars between you.  Xan. 
Why, what would you have a Woman do?  Eu. 
In the first place, if your Husband offers you any Affront or Injury, take no notice of it, but endeavour to soften him to you by all Offices of Gentleness, Meekness, and good Nature. By this means you will either wholly reclaim him at long run, or at least you'll find him much more tractable and easy than at present you find him.  Xan. 
Ay, but he's such an incorrigible Brute, that all the good usage will not make him one Farthing the better.  Eu. 
You must pardon me, if I am not of your mind. There is no Beast so savage and unmanageable but he may be tamed by good Treatment. Why then should you despair to effect it in a Man. Let me conjure you by our long Acquaintance to try this Experiment but for two or three Months, and I'll give you leave to blame me as long as you please, if you find that this Advice is of no benefit to you. To deal plainly with you, there are certain Vices, at which you must connive, otherwise your Repose will be but of short continuance; but above all things you ought to take special care never to begin any Quarrel, or to trump up any angry Stories with your Husband in Bed. Every thing there ought to be cheerful and pleasant, and indeed when that place which is Consecrated to the Cementing of Love, to the allaying of Marriage-storms; and to the wiping out of old Miscarriages, comes to be unhallowed by Sowrness, and profaned by ill Language, I think 'tis high time to write Lord have mercy upon the doors; for if the Fountain head be poisoned, what help can be expected from the Streams? I know some Women of such insatiable Tongues, and so intemperately given to Scolding, that they cannot forbear to let their Clacks run even while the Rites of Love are performing, and by the uneasiness of their Tempers render Fruition itself disagreeable, which uses to be the Never-failing Reconciler of Husband and Wife. By this means they make that Cordial, which ought to Cure all the Heart-burnings of Matrimony, to be of little or no Effect.  Xan. 
This has been my own Case a hundred times.  Eu. 
Yet you cannot but be sensible, that though it is the Wife's Interest so to manage her Game, as never to displease her Husband, if she can help it, upon any occasion whatsoever, yet she ought to take particular care to oblige him in the abovementioned Critical minute, as much as lies in her Power.  Xan. 
I own she ought to do it to a Man, but alas! my Lot is fallen upon a downright impenitent Brute.  Eu. 
Come, come, leave off your Railing. If our Husbands prove bad it generally happens so through our own ill Conduct; but to return to our Argument. Those Gentlemen that are conversant in the Ancient Fables of the Poets will tell you that Venus, one of the Goddesses that presided over Matrimony, had a Girdle or Cestos, made for her by Vulcan's Skill, in which were all the bewitching Ingredients and Charms of Love, and that she constantly put this on, whenever she went to Bed to her Husband.  Xan. 
What makes you tell such an Old fashioned Fable as this?  Eu. 
Right, but pray will you hear the Moral of it?  Xan. 
I listen to you.  Eu. 
It teaches us this useful Lesson; That a Wife should make it her Chief Business, in the Payment of the Nuptial Tribute, to be as agreeable and engaging as she can; for, let your Grave Persons say what they will, the Affair we have been talking of is not only the chief Preservative to keep Love alive when he begins to languish, but likewise is the most effectual Peacemaker.  Xan. 
Well, but where can we furnish ourselves with so necessary an Utensil as this Cestos was?  Eu. 
There's no need of Witchcrafts and Spells to procure one. The most powerful Spell in the World is Virtue joined with a sweetness of Disposition,  Xan. 
I can never bring myself to humour so incurable a Sot as my Husband is.  Eu. 
However, 'tis your Interest you must own, that he were another sort of a Creature. Suppose now you had Circe's magical Secret, and could turn your Husband from a Man into a Bear or a Hog; would you do it?  Xan. 
Faith I can't tell whether I should or no.  Eu. 
Can't you tell say you? Pray let me ask you then one Question more. Would you rather have your Husband a Hog than a Man?  Xan. 
No truly. I am for a Man still.  Eu. 
To proceed. Suppose you had one of Circe's Charms by which you could make him a Sober Man of a Drunkard, a Frugal Man of a Spendthrift, an Industrious Man of a Loiterer; would not you put your Charm in Execution?  Xan. 
Without doubt. But where should I meet with such a Charm as you talk off.  Eu. 
You carry it about you, if you would but make a right use of it. Whether you are willing or no, he must be your Husband to the end of the Chapter, and the better Man you make him, the more you consult your own particular advantage. But the mischief on't is, that you only keep your Eyes fixed upon his faults, and those create your aversion to him, whereas you ought to look upon his good qualities only, and to take him, as the saying is, by the right handle. You ought to have considered all his defects long ago, before you married him; and indeed, a discreet Woman should not choose her Husband only by her Eyes, but take the advice of her Ears. All you can do now is to use Anodynes, and not to apply Corrosives.  Xan. 
But what Woman pray now ever consulted her Ears in the Choice of a Husband?  Eu. 
She may be properly said to choose her Husband by her Eyes, who minds nothing but his Person and bare Outside, as she may be said to choose him by her Ears, who carefully observes what Reputation he has in the World, and what People say of him.  Xan. 
This is good Advice, but it comes somewhat of the latest.  Eu. 
But give me leave to tell you 'tis not too late to endeavour the Cure of your Husband. It will be no small step towards the effecting of this, if you could have any Children by him.  Xan. 
Oh I have had one long ago.  Eu. 
What do you mean? How long ago?  Xan. 
Why about seven Months ago.  Eu. 
What's this I hear? You put me in mind of the Woman that Married, Conceived, and was Delivered in the space of three Months.  Xan. 
I see no reason for that.  Eu. 
But so do I, if we Reckon from the day of Marriage.  Xan. 
Ay but I had some private discourse with my good Man before the Priest joined our Hands.  Eu. 
Why, will barely discoursing beget Children?  Xan. 
By chance he got me into a Room by myself, and began to Play and Toy with me, tickling me about the Armpits, and small of the Back to make me Laugh. I not able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flat upon the Bed, and he flinging himself upon me, kissed me and hugged me. I was in such a Confusion, that I don't know what he did to me besides, but this I am certain of, that within a few days my Belly began to swell.  Eu. 
And are not you a fine Woman now to rail at this Husband, who if he can get Children when he's only in jest, what will he do, think ye, when he falls to't in earnest?  Xa. 
I suspect that now I am with Child by him again.  Eu. 
Mercy on us! Why here's a good fruitful Soil, and a lusty Ploughman to Till it.  Xan. 
Nay, to do the Devil justice, he's more a Man for this Sport than I could wish he was.  Eu. 
Speak softly. Not one Woman in a Thousand has this complaint to make. But I suppose you were contracted to one another before this happened.  Xan. 
You are in the right on't.  Eu. 
It makes the Sin so much less. But was it a Boy or a Girl?  Xan. 
A Boy.  Eu. 
So much the better for you. This Pledge of your first Affections will, I make no question on't, set you both at rights, if you, my dear Friend, will but lend your helping Hand a little to so good a Work. By the by, let me ask you what sort of a Character do your Husband's Companions give him? And how is he respected by them?  Xan. 
They all of them agree, that he's as easy a Man in Conversation, as generous, and as ready to do any good Offices, as ever lived.  Eu. 
Better and better still. This gives me great hopes to believe that we shall manage him to your Heart's content.  Xan. 
Here's the misfortune, that I am the only Person in the World he shows himself Ill-natured to.  Eu. 
Do but put the Rules I gave you in Practice, and I here freely give you leave to say all the malicious things you can of me, if you don't find him much altered for the better. Besides, I would have you consider that he's but a young Fellow yet; for, as I take it, he is not above Twenty Four Years Old, and does not know yet what it is to be the Master of a Family. As for a Divorce, I would advise you never to think of it.  Xan. 
I have had it frequently in my thoughts.  Eu. 
But when it comes next into your Head, pray do yourself the favour to reflect what a foolish insignificant Figure a Woman makes when she is parted from her Husband. The principal recommendation of a Matron, is, that she is Dutiful and Obedient to her Spouse. This Language Nature dictates to us; this we are taught in the Bible; this the universal Agreement of all Ages and Nations tells us, that a Woman should be subject to her Husband. Therefore seriously think of this matter, and put the case exactly as it stands. He is your Lawful Husband, and so long as he Lives; 'tis impossible for you to have another. Then let the Infant who belongs in Common to youboth, be put in the Balance. Now pray tell me how you would dispose of him? If you carry him away with you, you defraud your Husband of what is his own, and if you leave him with him, you deprive yourself of that which ought to be as dear to you as your Life. In the last place I desire to be informed whether any of your Relations wish you Ill?  Xan. 
I have to my Sorrow a Step mother and a Mother-in-law as like her as may be.  Eu. 
And are you not beloved by them?  Xan. 
So far from that, that they'd Rejoice with all their heart to see me in my Grave.  Eu. 
Why then I would entreat you to think of them likewise. What more acceptable piece of Service can you possibly do them, than to let them see you separated from your Husband, and become a Widow of your own making? What did I say a Widow? Nay, to live ten times more miserably than any Widow; for, one in that condition you know is at liberty to Marry whom she pleases.  Xan. 
I must own indeed that I approve of your Advice, but I can never endure to be a perpetual Slave.  Eu. 
If that is all, pray do but consider what pains you took before you could make that Parrot there talk and prattle to you.  Xan. 
A great deal, I confess.  Eu. 
And can you then think it much to bestow a little Labour and Time to mould your Husband to your own liking, with whom you must live the remainder of your days? What a world of trouble do your Grooms undergo to bask a Horse and make him tractable, and can a prudent Woman grudge a little application and diligence to see if she can reduce her Husband to a more agreeable Temper?  Xan. 
Why, what would you have me do?  Eu. 
I have already told you. Take care that every thing at Home be cleanly and decent, so that nothing may disgust him there, and oblige him to ramble abroad. Behave yourself easy and free to him, but at the same time never forget that respect which a Wife indispensibly owes to her Husband. Let melancholy be banished out of your doors, and likewise an impertinent ill-affected Gaiety; neither be foolishly morose, nor unseasonably frolicksome. Let your Table be well furnished and handsome. You know your Husband's palate without question, therefore always provide him what he has most a fancy to. This is not all, I would have you show yourself Affable and Courteous to all his Acquaintance, and frequently Invite them to Dine with you. When you Sat down to Table, let nothing but Cheerfulness and Mirth appear; and if at any time your Husband comes Home a little in his Liquor, and falls a Playing on his Violin, do you bear your part in the Consort and Sing to it. By this means you'll in a little time accustom your Husband to keep at Home, and lessen his Expenses; for 'tis natural to believe that at last he'll thus reason with himself. Why, what a foolish Coxcomb am I to Sot at the Tavern, and keep Company with a nasty Harlot abroad, to the apparent prejudice of my Reputation and Estate, when I have a Wife at home who is infinitely more obliging and beautiful, and makes so much of me?  Xan. 
But do you believe I shall succeed if I try?  Eu. 
Look steadfastly upon me. I engage that you will. In the mean time I will take a proper occasion to discourse matters with your Husband, and put him in mind of his own Duty.  Xan. 
I like your design well enough, but you must take care that he shan't know a Syllable of what has passed between us: If ever this Dialogue should reach his Ears, he would throw the House out at the Windows.  Eu. 
Never fear it. I will so order the conversation, by winding and turning him, that he himself shall tell me what Quarrels have happened betwixt you. Upon this let me alone to address myself to him in the most engaging manner I am Mistress off, and I hope to send him home to you in a much better Temper than I found him. I will likewise take occasion to tell a lie or two in your favour, and let him know how lovingly and respectfully I have heard you talk of him.  Xan. 
Well, Heaven prosper both our undertake.  Eu. 
I done't at all question it, provided you are not wanting to yourself.   

THE Assembly of Women, OR, The Female Parliament.  
COL. VII.  
A parcel of merry Ladies meet together, and consult of the most effectual Methods how to regulate all Matters relating to the Female Sex. The Rules and Orders that are to be observed in the Summoning and holding of their Parliaments, and what Abuses chiefly deserve to be Reform.  Cornelia. Margaret. Perotte. Julia. Catherine. COrn. 
In the Name of Multiplication and Increase, Amen. 'Tis no small Satisfaction to me, Ladies, to see so large and numerous an Assembly of you here, and I heartily wish that Heaven will Inspire every individual Woman in this Convention, with such Dispositions as will make us Act for the common Advantage and Reputation of our whole Sex. You cannot but be sensible, Ladies, what a terrible Prejudice our Affairs have received in this Respect, that while the Men have had their Parliaments and daily Meetings all along, to Debate and Consider of Ways and Means, how best to promote and carry on their own Interest; we forsooth must be sitting hum drum by the Fireside, employed in the noble and ancient Exercise of Spinning, and as a modern Poet expresses it, spending our Nature on our Thumb. 'Tis no wonder therefore if our Affairs lie at six and seven, if we have not the least Footsteps of Government, or good Order left among us, and to say all in a word, if the World ranks us in the same Predicament with Beasts, and will not allow us the Title of rational Creatures. Unless we resolve to take other Methods for the future, the most Ignorant of us, may without the Spirit of Prophecy pretend to foretell what will become of us in a short time. For my part, I am afraid to utter it, or be the Harbinger of ill News. However, tho' we take no care at all of our Dignity, yet give me leave to tell you, we ought to have some regard to our Safety. The wisest Monarch in the World, by the same token that he owed no little part of his Wisdom to his frequent Conversing with us Women, has left it in Writing, that in the Multitude of Counsellors is much Safety. Your Bishops have their Synods, your Cathedrals their Chapters, your Soldiers their Councils of War, nay, those unharmonious Rascals, those Retainers to Hopkins and Sternhold, the Parish-Clerks have their Hall to meet in. In short, your Butchers, your Physicians, your Brewers, your Vintners, and (with Reverence be it spoken) your very Shop-lifters and Pickpockets, have their several Assemblies or Clubs to settle the Affairs of their several Fraternities in. If this is not sufficient, your Birds and Beasts have their particular Places and Seasons of Meeting, but Women, that strange prodigious Creature, Woman is the only Animal in the World which is against meeting of Members.  Mar. 
I am afraid you are out Madam, for malicious People say that we are oftener for it than we should.  Corn. 
Who is it that Interrupts the Court there. Give me leave, Ladies and Gentlewomen, to conclude my Speech, and then you shall all talk in your turn. Neither is this Meeting of ours a new unpresidented thing, without Warrant or Authority; for if my Chronology does not fail me, that most Accomplished and excellent Emperor Heliogabalus of blessed Memory— P4. How most Accomplished and Excellent▪ I beseech you, when History tells us that the Mobb knocked his Brains out, that he was dragged up and down the Streets, and at last thrown into the common jakes. Cor. What! interrupted again? But Neighbour, if such an Argument will hold Water, it will follow, that half the Saints in the Calendar were but so, so, because they came to the Gallows, and that Oliver Cromwell was a virtuous Person, because he died in his Bed. The worst thing that was ever objected to Heliogabalus by his greatest Enemies, was his flinging down the idolatrous Fire, which was kept by the Vestal Virgins, for which old Fox would have Registered him among his Protestant Martyrs, and his 
* Lampridius ascribes this to Alexander Severus. But Erasmus I suppose made his learned Lady here commit this Mistake designedly, and I have carried on the Humour a little further.  hanging up the Pictures of Moses and Christ in his private Chapel, which I hope will not rise up in judgement against him in this Christian Assembly. Let me inform you en passant, Ladies, that those Villains the Heathens, as my Authors tell me, (and I thought it would not be amiss to communicate such a nice Observation to this House) used to call our Saviour Chrestus, and not Christus, by way of Contempt and Derision, which is the Opinion of Agathocles, Dionysius, who for his great Skill in the Oriental Languages was Sir-named Halicarnesseus, Laurentius Valla, Fabius Maximus, Anacharsis and several other Divines of the Reformed Persuasion. But to return to the Argument in hand; for a Woman ought to make the most of her Argument in Hand, this most discreet and profound Governor Heliogabalus issued out a Proclamation, or Edict to this Effect, that as the Emperors used to convene the Senators in the Senate-house, and there to debate of all Emergencies relating to the State, so his Mother Augusta should Summon the Women from all parts of the City, to Assemble in a Place by themselves, there to Regulate those Affairs wherein the Female-sex was any ways concerned. And this Convention the Men, either out of Drollery, or for distinction, called the Senatulus, or little Senate. This noble Precedent, which by the fatal Negligence of our Ancestors has been intermitted for so many hundred Years, the present Situation of our Affairs obliges us to revive; and let none in this Company have any Scruple upon their Gizzard, because the Apostle forbids Women to talk in that Assembly, which he calls the Church; for it is evident that St. Paul there speaks of Assemblies of Men, whereas ours is an Assemblies of Women. Otherwise if poor Women must always be silent, for what end and purpose did Providence bestow upon us this voluble Member, called a Tongue, in which Talon we don't come short of the Men, and why did it give us a Pipe, no less intelligible and loud than theirs? Now my Hand is in, I cannot help saying that ours is all Harmony and Music, whereas they either grunt like Hogs, or bray like Asses. But to proceed, we ought in the first place to manage all our Debates with that Gravity and Circumspection, that the Men may not have the least pretence to make them the Subject of their Coffee-house-raillery, to which illnatured Mirth you know they are but too much inclined of themselves; although I think I may safely say, that if one would seriously examine their Councils and Synods, their Assemblies and Parliaments, we should find more frivolous and impertinent Controversies in them, that a Congregation of Fish-women at Billingsgate would be guilty of. For Example, we still see that Monarches for so many Ages have busied themselves in nothing but dull cutting of Throats, for which important Services the World styles them Heroes and Deliverers. We find that the Clergy and the Laity are still at perpetual Daggers-drawing with one another, that there are as many Opinions, as there are Noses in the World, and in all the whole course of their Proceedings, they show ten times more Inconstancy than we Women ever discovered. This City everlastingly quarrels with that City, and one Neighbour treads upon his next Neighbours Corns. If the Supreme Administration were entrusted in our Hands, with all due Submission be it be spoken, I believe the World would be managed at a much better rate than now it is. Perhaps it may not become our female Modesty to charge these Noble Peers and judges, these Knights and Burgesses with Folly, but I suppose I may be safely allowed to Recite what Solomon has Asserted in the thirteenth Chapter of the Proverbs, There is always Strife among the Proud, but they that do every thing with Counsel, are Governed by Wisdom. But not to detain you with too tedious a Preamble, to the end that all things here may be carried on Decently, and without Confusion, it will be necessary in the first place to determine, who shall be qualified to sit as Members in this House; for as too much Company will make it look more like the Mobb, or a Riot, than a grave Assembly; so if we take in too few, the World will charge us with setting up a Tyrannical Government. For my part, I move this Honourable House, that no Virgin be capable of sitting among us, and my Reason is, because many things may happen to be debated here, which it is not proper for them to hear.  Iu. 
Well! But how shall we be able to know who are Virgins, and who are not. I suppose you will not allow all to be such, who take the Name upon them.  Corn. 
No, but my meaning is that none but married Women be permitted to Vote among us.  Iu. 
Why, I could name to you several married Women, who thanks to those impotent Fumblers their Husbands, are as good Virgins now, as when they first came into the World. There's my Lady—  Corn. 
Hold, but in respect to the Holy State of Matrimony, let us charitably suppose all married Wives to be Women.  Iu. 
Under Favor, if we exclude none but Virgins, we shall still be overrun with Multitudes. The Maidens, let me tell you are scarce one to a hundred.  Corn. 
Well then, we'll exclude those likewise that have been Married more than thrice,  Iu. 
For what Reason, I beseech you.  Corn. 
Because they ought to have their Quietus est, as being Superannuated, and so forth. I think too we ought to pass the same Sentence upon such as are above Seventy. But I conceive it ought to be resolved Nemine contradicente; that no Woman shall presume to make too free with her Husband, or to lay open all his faults. It may be allowed her to hint her ill usage in general terms; but than it must be done with Discretion, Brevity, and good Manners; and she shall by no means be allowed to indulge her itch of Prattling.  Ca 
But pray Madam why should not we be allowed to talk freely of the Men, since they make no scruple of saying what they please of their Wives. You know the Proverb, What is Sauce for a Goose, is Sauce for a Gander. My Lord and Husband, I thank him for't, when ever he has a mind to divert his lewd Companions at the Tavern, acquaints them with all the Secrets of the Family, tells 'em every Word I said to him, and how often he mounts the Guard a-nights, as he calls it, though he's most plaguyly given to lying, when he's upon the last strain.  Corn. 
If we must speak the Truth, our Reputation wholly depends upon that of the Men; so if we expose them as weak and scandalous, we must of course be so ourselves. 'Tis true, we have too many just Complaints to make against them, however when all things are fairly considered, I am of the Opinion that our Condition is much preferable to theirs. They cross the Line and double the Cape, and, in short, scamper from Pole to Pole to maintain their Families; then in time of War, they lie upon the bare Ground, March through thick and thin, stand Buff to all sorts of Wether, Eat, and Drink, and Sleep in Armour heavy enough to load a Camel, and venture their Lives all hours of the day, while we sit snugg at home, and enjoy ourselves Comfortably. If they happen to be caught napping or so, the Law shows 'em no favour, while a poor Woman is often excused upon the frailty of her Sex. After all, I'll venture to say, that generally speaking, it lies in a Woman's power to make her Husband what sort of a Man she pleases. But 'tis high time now Ladies to adjust all differences about Precedence and taking of Places, lest that should happen to us which frequently falls out at your Treaties of Peace, where the Ambassadors and Plenipotentiaries of Kings and Popes squabble away three months at least in Punctilios and Ceremony, before they can sit down to Business. Therefore it is my Opinion, that Peeresses only Sat in the first Bench, and they shall take their Places according to the Antiquity of their Families, or their Age, but I think the latter will be best. The next Bench shall be of the Commons, and those shall sit in the foremost Places that have had most Children; between those that have had the same number of Children, Age shall decide the difference. Lastly, Those that were never brought to Bed shall sit in the third Row. As for By-blows, vulgarly called Bastards, they shall take Place according to their Quality, but shall sit at the lowest end of the Row, which belongs to them.  Ca 
Where do you intent to place the Widows?  Corn. 
Well remembered. They shall have a Place assigned them in the middle of the Mothers, if they have Children living, or ever had any. The Barren must even be content to sit at the fagg-end of this Company.  Iu. 
Well! but what place do you design for the Wives of Priests and Monks?  Corn. 
We will consider of that matter at our next Meeting.  Iu. 
What will you say to those industrious Gentlewomen, that get their Living by the sweat of their Brows?  Corn. 
Oh mention them not. We'll never suffer our Assembly to be profaned with the Company of such abandoned Wretches.  Iu. 
I hope though you'll allow better Quarter to Misses of Quality?  Corn. 
We will think of them some other time. Before we proceed any further, we ought first to agree how we shall give our Votes, whether by lifting up our Hands, or by word of Mouth, or by the noah's removing from their Seats, or by Balloting, and so forth.  Ca 
I fear me there may be some trick in Balloting, and then our Petticoats draggle upon the Ground so, that if we must remove from our places, we shall raise such a dust I warrant you, that no body will be able to endure the Room. Therefore I think it will be the best way for every Member of this Honourable House to deliver her Vote Viuâ Voce.  Corn. 
There will be some difficulty, let me tell you, in gathering the Votes; besides I am afraid that according to the old Jest our Parliamentum will be a Lar amentium.  Ca 
We'll have so many Notaries to take the Votes, that it shall be impossible to make any Blunders.  Corn. 
That course indeed will prevent Mistakes in numbering, but how will you provide against squabbling?  Ca 
Let it be Enacted that no body shall Speak but in her turn, or when she's asked. She that does otherwise shall be expelled the House: And if any one shall be found reling Tales out of School, that is to say, prattling of any thing which is transacted within these Walls, she shall incur the Penalty of a three day's Silence.  Corn. 
Thus Ladies we have adjusted all Punctilios relating to this Affair. Let us next consider what things we shall Debate about. Every Member here, I presume, will agree with me, that we ought in the first place to have a due regard to our Honour, and Honour all the World knows is chiefly supported by what we call Habit or Dress. In which respect we have been so shamefully neglective and deficient for some years last passed, that 'tis almost impossible by the outside to know a Duchess from a Kitchen Wench, a married Woman or a Widow from a Virgin, and a Matron from a common Whore. All the ancient bounds of Modesty have been so impudently transgressed that every one wears what Apparel seems best in her own Eyes. At Church and at Playhouse, in City and Country you may see a thousand Women of indifferent, if not sordid Extraction, swaggering it abroad in Silks and Velvets, in Damask and Brocard, in Gold and Silver, in Ermines and Sable-tippets, while their Husbands perhaps are stitching Grubstreet Pamphlets, Copying Noverint Universi's, or Cobbling of Shoes at home. Their Fingers are loaded with Diamonds and Rubies, for Turkey Stones are now a days despised been by Chimny-sweeper's Wives. Not to tyre my Lungs with speaking of their Pearl or Amber Necklaces, the Gold Watch dangling by their Sides, their massy Fringed Petticoats, the flaunting Steen-kirk about their Necks, their laced Shoes, and Gigantic Commodes. It was thought enough for your ordinary Women in the last Age, that they were allowed the mighty Privilege to wear a Silk Girdle, and to set off the borders of their woollen Petticoats with an edging of Silk. But now, and I can hardly forbear Weeping at the thoughts of it, this worshipful Custom is quite out of doors; upon which two great inconveniencies have arisen; for the Wives by indulging this prodigal Humour have made their Husbands as poor as so many Church-mices, and that laudable distinction which is the very Soul and Life of Quality is totally abolished. If your Tallow-Chandlers, Vintners, and other Tradesmen's Wives flaunt it in a Chariot and Four, what shall your Marchionesses or Countesses do I wonder? And if a Country Squire's Spouse will have a Train after her Breech full fifteen els long, pray what shift must a Princess make to distinguish herself? What makes this ten times worse than otherwise it would be, we are never constant to one Dress, but are as fickle and uncertain as Wether Cocks, or the Men that Preach under them. Formerly our Head-Tire was stretched out upon Wires, and mounted like a Barber's Pole; Women of Condition thinking to distinguish themselves from the ordinary sort by this Dress. Nay, to make the difference still more visible, they wore Caps of Ermine powdered, but they were mistaken in their Politics, for the Citts soon got them. Then they trumpt up another Mode, and black Quoifs came into Play: But the Ladies within Ludgate not only Aped them in this Fashion, but added thereto a Gold Embroidery and jewels. Formerly the Court Dames took a great deal of Pains in Combing up their Hair from their Foreheads and Temples to make a Tower, but they were soon weary of that, for it was not long before this Fashion too was got into Cheapside. After this they let their Hair fall loose about their Forehead, but the City Gossips soon followed them in that. Heretofore, only Women of the greatest Figure had their Pages, and Gentleman-ushers, and out of these last they chose a pretty Smock-faced young Fellow to take ' emby the Hand when they arose from their Chairs, or to support their left Arm when they walked; neither was every one capable of this Honour, but one that was a Gentleman's Son, and well descended. But now, the more is the shame, Women of inferior Rank not only take this upon 'em, but suffer any body to do this Office, as likewise to carry their Train. These are not all the Innovations that have been made; for whereas in the primitive Times, none but Persons of high Extraction Saluted one another with a Kiss, now every greasy Rascal of a Shopkeeper, though he stinks worse than a Fat Tallow Chandler does in the Dog-days, if he's got ten Miles out of Town, burlesqued in a Silver hilted Sword and a long Periwig, will pretend to Salute the best Lady in the Land. Even in their Marriages, where one would think they should take more care, no respect is had to Honour or Quality. Nobleman's Daughters Mary to Tradesmens Sons, and the squab Issue of a Shopkeeper, if she has but store of Money, is thought a Morsel tempting enough for a Duke's Eldest Son to leap at. By this means the next Age will be plagued with such a Generation of Mongrels, that they must be forced to knock the Heralds in the head, lest they should reproach them with our Ancestors. To proceed with other Grievances, There is never a Dowdy about the Town I warrant you, though begotten upon a Bulk, and born in a Garret, that, if her Pocket would give her leave, would scruple to Trick and Spruce her vile Phyz with the richest Paint that your Persons of the highest Quality use; when ordinary Women ought to thank God, if the Government where they live will allow 'em to revive the decayed Red and White in their Cheeks with Raddle and Chalk, or some such cheap Restorers. But as for the Countess of Kent's Cosmetick Water, your fine Spanish Washeses, and Italian Paints, they ought to be used by none but by Ladies of the first Rank. To come now to the Boxes, the Park, and public Entertainments, Good Lord, what a horrid Disorder and Confusion is there to be seen? You shall frequently see an Alderman's Wife refuse to give the place to a Baronet's Lady. Thus 'tis plain, that the present posture of our Affairs advises us to think of putting a stop to these growing Disorders; and what may encourage us to proceed, these things naturally belong to us, and therefore will be transacted with the greatest ease. Not but that we have some Affairs to settle with the Men too, who exclude us from all Offices of the State, and while they treat us no better than Cooks, and Laundresses, monopolise all Employments and live at Discretion. For my part I give them leave to fill up all Robust Employments, and to manage Military Concerns. But I appeal to the whole World, whither it is not a most insufferable thing, that the Wife's Coat of Arms should be always Painted on the left side of the Escutcheon, although her Family is thrice as Honourable as that of her Husband? Then I think there's all the reason in the World that the Mother's consent should be asked in the Putting out of the Children. Perhaps too we may manage our Cards with that Address as to be admitted to a share in all peaceable Places of Trust; I mean those, that may be managed at Home, that require no attendance in Foreign Countries, or one of the Military Character to discharge them. These are some of the Chief Heads, which I suppose deserve to be taken into Consideration. Let every Member of this Honourable Assembly think of them seriously, and prepare them against our next Session; and if any thing else worthy of your Notice occurs to you, I hope you will Communicate it to Morrow, for in my Opinion it will be necessary that we meet every day, till we have adjusted all Affairs. We ought to have four Notaries Chosen out of four Presbyterian Parson's Wives, to take down in Shorthand all our Speeches; and four Chairwomen of our four Committees, who shall give People leave to Speak their Minds, or enjoin them Silence, according as they see Convenient: And let this Meeting of ours be a Sample of the following ones, and give the World a taste what may be expected hereafter from us.  
FINIS.