UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORN 3 1822019453869 Central University Library University of California, San Diego Please Note: This item is subject to recall. Date Due AUG06 1995 Cl 39 (7/93) UCSD Lt. /?1/D CANON SWINDELL ~ ERDINGTON VICARAGE BIRMINGHAM. Colloquies of Erasmus. The Colloquies of Erasmus. TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M.A. VOL. II. LONDON: REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND. 1878. CONTENTS. VOL. II. Page TJie Religious Pilgrimage ....... i 'I\dvoayia . . . . . . . . 38 The Funeral ......... 99 The Echo . . . .120 The Unequal Feast . . . . . . . -125 Of Things and Words ....... 132 Charon 139 The Assembly of Grammarians . . . . . .146 The Unequal Marriage . . . . . . -153 The Imposture 167 Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier . . . . . .169 The Impertinents, or Cross-Purposes . . . . .178 The False Knight 181 The Play of Cockall 192 The Assembly or Parliament of Women . . . .203 Diluculum, or the Early Rising . . . . . .212 The Sober Feast 221 The Notable Art 227 The Sermon, or Merdardus . . . . . . .231 TJie Lover of Glory ........ 252 Opulentia Sordida, or the Wealthy Miser . . . .266 The Seraphick Funeral . . . . . . .281 Amicitia, or Friendship 300 Problema, the Problems . . . . . . .316 The Epicurean ......... 326 The Conflict between Thalia and Barbarism . . . -346 Concerning the Profitableness of Colloquies . . . -357 Of the Method of Study 375 Notes 379 The Familiar Colloquies of Erasmus. The RELIGIOUS PILGRIMAGE. The ARGUMENT. a Pilgrimage for the Sake of Religion, returns Home full of Superstition. He had paid a Visit to St. James at Compostella, his Wife and Mother-in-Law having obliged him to make a Vow so to do. At that Time People began to be more cold, as to the Worshipping of Saints : For which Cause the Virgin Mary writes an Epistle full of Complaints, of their Worship being neglected. A Miracle of a Knight that was saved by the Help of the Virgin Mary, by opening a little Wicket through which he entred. Of the Virgins Milk. St. Ber- nard is feign d to have suck'd the same Pap of the Virgin Mary, that the Child Jesus did. A new Sort of Jewel call'd the Toad-Stone: The various Natures of Jewels. The Tomb 0/" Thomas Becket at Canterbury. He falls foul on the prodigious Magnificence, Luxury and Wealth of Churches ; and reprehends the Manners and Impieties of Sailors. The Absurdity of Kissing the Reliques of Saints, as Shoes, Slippers, &c. Saints are compared to Sheep. MENEDEMUS, OGYGIUS. T^fEN. What Novelty is this ? Don't I see my old Neigh- bour Ogygius, that no Body has set their Eyes on this . VOL. II. A 2 Colloquies of Erasrmts. six Months ? There was a Report he was dead. It is he, or I'm mightily mistaken. I'll go up to him, and give him his Welcome. Welcome Ogygins. Ogy. And well met, Menedemus. Men. From what Part of the World came you ? For here was a melancholy Report that you had taken a Voyage to the Stygian Shades. Ogy. Nay, I thank God, I never was better in all my Life, than I have been ever since I saw you last. Men. And may you live always to confute such vain Re- ports : But what strange Dress is this ? It is all over set off with Shells scollop'd, full of Images of Lead and Tin, and Chains of Straw- Work, and the Cuffs are adorned with Snakes Eggs instead of Bracelets. Ogy. I have been to pay a Visit to St. James at Compos- tella, and after that to the famous Virgin on the other Side the Water in England '; and this was rather a Revisit ; for I had been to see her three Years before. Men. What ! out of Curiosity, I suppose ? Ogy. Nay, upon the Score of Religion. Men. That Religion, I suppose, the Greek Tongue taught you. Ogy. My Wife's Mother had bound herself by a Vow, that if her Daughter should be delivered of a live Male Child, I should go to present my Respects to St. James in Person, and thank him for it. Men. And did you salute the Saint only in your own and your Mother-in-Law's Name ? Ogy. Nay, in the Name of the whole Family. Men. Truly I am persuaded your Family would have been every Whit as well, if you had never complimented him at all. But prithee, what Answer did he make you when you thanked him ? Ogy. None at all ; but upon tendring my Present, he seemed to smile, and gave me a gentle Nod, with this same Scollop Shell. Men. But why does he rather give those than any Thing else ? The Religious Pilgrimage. 3 Ogy. Because he has plenty of them, the neighbouring Sea furnishing him with them. Men. O gracious Saint, that is both a Midwife to Women in Labour, and hospitable to Travellers too ! But what new Fashion of making Vows is this, that one who does nothing himself, shall make a Vow that another Man shall work ? Put the Case that you should tie yourself up by a Vow that I should fast twice a Week, if you should succeed in such and such an Affair, do you think I'd perform what you had vowed ? Ogy. I believe you would not, altho' you had made the Vow yourself : For you made a Joke of Fobbing the Saints off. But it was my Mother-in-Law that made the Vow, and it was my Duty to be obedient : You know the Temper of Women, and also my own Interest lay at Stake. Men. If you had not performed the Vow, what Risque had you run ? Ogy. I don't believe the Saint could have laid an Action at Law against me ; but he might for the future have stopp'd his Ears at my Petitions, or slily have brought some Mis- chief or other upon my Family : You know the Humour of great Persons. Men. Prithee tell me, how does the good Man St. James do ? and what was he doing ? Ogy. Why truly, not so well by far as he used to be. Men. What's the Matter, is he grown old ? Ogy. Trifler ! You know Saints never grow old. No, but it is this new Opinion that has been spread abroad thro' the World, is the Occasion, that he has not so many Visits made to him as he used to have ; and those that do come, give him a bare Salute, and either nothing at all, or little or nothing else ; they say they can bestow their Money to better Pur- pose upon those that want it. Men. An impious Opinion. Ogy. And this is the Cause, that this great Apostle, that used to glitter with Gold and Jewels, now is brought to the very Block that he is made of, and has scarce a Tallow Candle. 4 Colloquies of Erasmus. Men. If this be true, the rest of the Saints are in Danger of coming to the same Pass. Ogy. Nay, I can assure you, that there is a Letter handed about, which the Virgin Mary herself has written about this Matter. Men. What Mary ? Ogy. She that is called Maria a Lapide. Men. That's up towards Basil, if I am not mistaken ? Ogy. The very same. Men. You talk of a very stony Saint But who did she write it to ? Ogy. The Letter tells you the Name. Men. Who did she send it by ? Ogy. An Angel, no Doubt, who laid it down in the Pulpit, where the Preacher, to whom it was sent, took it up. And to put the Matter out of all Doubt, you shall see the original Letter. Men. Do you know the Angel's Hand, that is Secretary to the Virgin Mary ? Ogy. Well enough. Men. By what Token ? Ogy. I have read St. Bede's Epitaph, that was engraven by the same Angel, and the Shape of the Letters are ex- actly the same; and I have read the Discharge sent to St. ALgidius, and they agree exactly. Do not these prove the Matter plain enough ? Men. May a Body see it ? Ogy. You may, if you'll damn your Soul to the Pit of Hell, if ever you speak on't Men. 'Tis as safe as if you spoke it to a Stone. Ogy. But there are some Stones that are infamous for this, that they can't keep a Secret. Men. If you can't trust to a Stone, speak to a Mute then. Ogy. Upon that Condition I'll recite it to you ; but prick up both your Ears. Men. I have done so. Ogy. Mary the MotJier of Jesus to Glaucoplutus sendeth The Religious Pilgrimage. 5 Greeting. This is to let you know, that I take it in good Part, and you have much obliged me, in that you have so strenuously followed Luther, and convinced the World, that it is a Thing altogether needless to invoke Saints : For, before this Time, I was een wearied out of my Life ivith the wicked Importuni- ties of Mortals. Every Thing was asked of me, as if my Son was always a Child, because he is painted so, and at my Breast, and therefore they take it for granted I have him still at my Beck, and that he dares not deny me any Thing I ask of him, for Fear I should deny him the Bubby when he is thirsty. Nay, and they ask such Things from me a Virgin, that a modest young Man would scarce dare to ask of a Bawd, and which I am ashamed to commit to Writing. A Merchant that is going a Voyage to Spain to get Pelf, recommends to me the Chastity of his kept Mistress ; and a professed Nun, having throivn away her Veil, in Order to make her Escape, recommends to me the Care of her Reputation, which she at the same Time intends to prostitute. TJie wicked Soldier, who butchers Men for Mo- ney, bawls out to me with these Words, O Blessed Virgin, send me rich Plunder. The Gamester calls out to me to give him good Luck, and promises I shall go Snips with him in what he sJiall win ; and if the Dice don't favour, I am rail' d at and curs X because I would not be a Confederate in his Wicked- ness. The Usurer prays, Help me to large Interest for my Money ; and if I deny 'em any Thing, they cry out, I am no Mother of Mercy. And there is another Sort of People, whose Prayers are not properly so wicked, as they are foolish : The Maid prays, Mary, give me a handsome, rich Husband ; tJie Wife cries, Give me fine Children ; and the Woman with Child, Give me a good Delivery ; the old Woman prays to live long without a Cough and Thirst ; and the doting old Man, Send tJiat I may grow young again ; the Philosopher says, Give me tJie Faculty of starting Difficulties never to be resolv'd ; the Priest says, Give me a fat Benefice ; the Bishop cries out for tJie Saving of his Diocese ; and the Mariner for a prosperous Voyage ; the Magistrate cries out, Shew me thy Son before I die ; the Courtier, That he may make an effectual 6 Colloquies of Erasmus. Confession, when at tJie Point of Death ; the Husbandman calls on me for seasonable Rain ; and a Farmer's Wife, to preserve tier Sheep and Cattle. If I refuse them any Thing, then presently I am hard-hearted. If I refer them to my Son, they cry, If you'll but say the Word, I'm sure /te' II do it. How is it possible for me a lone Body, a Woman, and a Virgin, to assist Sailors, Soldiers, Merchants, Gamesters, Brides and Bridegrooms, Women in Travail, Princes, Kings, and Pea- sants ? And what I have mentioned is the least Part of what I suffer. But I am much less troubled with these Concerns now than I have been, for which I would give you my hearty Thanks, if this Conveniency did not bring a greater Inconveniency along with it. I have indeed more Leisure, but less Honour, and less Money. Before, I was saluted Queen of the Heavens, and Lady of the World ; but now there are very few, from whom I hear an Ave-Mary. Formerly I was adorned with Jewels and Gold, and had Abundance of Changes of Apparel ; I /tad Presents made me of Gold and Jewels ; but now I have scarce Haifa Vest to cover me, and that is Mouse-eaten too : And my yearly Revenue is scarce enough to keep alive my poor Sexton, who lights me tip a little Wax or Tallow Candle. But all these Things might be born with, if you did not tell us, that there were greater Things going forward. They say, you aim at this, to strip the Altars and Temples of the Saints every where. I advise you again and again to have a Care what you do : For otJter Saints don't want Power to avenge themselves for the Wrong done to them. Peter, being turn' d out of his Church, can shut the Gate of the Kingdom of Heaven against you. Paul has a Sword. And St. Bartholomew a Knife. The Monk William has a Coat of Mail under his Habit, and a heavy Lance too. And how will you encotmter St. George on Horseback, in his Cuirassiers Arms, his Sword, and his Whin- yard? Nor is Anthony without his Weapon, he has his sacred Fire : And the rest of them have either their Arms, or their Mischiefs, that they can send out against whom they please : A nd as for myself, although I wear no Weapons, you shall not turn me out, unless you turn my Son out too, whom I hold in The Religious Pilgrimage. 7 my A rms. I won't be pulled away from him : You shall either throiv us both out, or leave us both, unless you have a Mind to have a Church without a- Christ. TJiese Things I would have you knoiv, and consider what Answer to give me ; for I have tJie Matter much at Heart. From our Stone House, the Calends of August, the Year of my Son's Passion 1524. I the Stony Virgin have subscribed this with my own Hand. Men. In Truth this is a very terrible threatning Letter, and I believe Glaticoplutus will take Care what he does. Ogy. He will, if he is wise. Men. But why did not honest James write to him about this Matter ? Ogy. Truly I can't tell, except it is because he is a great Way off, and now-a-Days all Letters are intercepted. Men. But what God carried you to England ? Ogy. A very favourable Wind ; and I had made half a Promise to the beyond-Sea She-Saint, to pay her another Visit within two or three Years. Men. What did you go to ask for of her ? Ogy. Nothing new ; but those common Matters, the Health of my Family, the Increase of my Fortune, a long and a happy Life in this World, and eternal Happiness in the next. Men. But could not our Virgin Mary have done as much for you here? She has at Antwerp a Temple, much more magnificent than that beyond Sea. Ogy. I won't deny that she is able, but one Thing is be- stowed in one Place, and another Thing in another : whether this be her Pleasure merely, or whether she being of a kind Disposition, accommodates herself in this to our Affections. Men. I have often heard of James, but prithee give me some Account of that beyond-Sea Lady. Ogy. I will do it as briefly as I can : Her Name is very famous all over England ; and you shall scarce find any Body in that Island, who thinks his Affairs can be prosperous, unless he every Year makes some Present to that Lady, 8 Colloquies of Erasmus. greater or smaller, according as his Circumstances are in the World. Men. Where-abouts does she dwell ? Ogy. Near the Coast, upon the furthest Part between the West and the North, about three Miles from the Sea ; it is a Town that depends chiefly upon the Resort of Strangers : There is a College of Canons there, to which the Latins have added the Name of Regulars, which are of a middle Sort between Monks, and those Canons that are called Seculars. Men. You tell me of amphibious Creatures, such as the Beavers are. Ogy. Nay, so are Crocodiles too. But Trifling apart, I'll tell you in three Words : In odious Cases they are Canons, in favourable Cases they are Monks. Men. You have hitherto been telling me Riddles. Ogy. Why thea I will give you a Mathematical Demon- stration. If the Pope of Rome shall throw a Thunderbolt at all Monks, then they'll be all Canons ; and if he will allow all Monks to marry, then they'll be all Monks. Men. These are new Favours, I wish they would take mine for one. Ogy. But to return to the Matter in Hand. This College has little else to maintain it, but the Liberality of the Vir- gin ; for all Presents of Value are laid up ; but as for any Thing of Money, or lesser Value, that goes to the Support of the Flock and the Head of it, which they call the Prior. Men. Are they Men of good Lives ? Ogy. Not much amiss. They are richer in Piety than in Revenue : There is a clever neat Church, but the Virgin does not dwell in it herself ; but upon Point of Honour has given it to her Son. Her Church is on the Right-Hand of her Son's. Men. Upon his Right-Hand ! which Way then does her Son look ? Ogy. That's well taken Notice of. When he looks toward the West he has his Mother on the Right, and when he looks toward the East, she is on his Left- Hand. And she does The Religioiis Pilgrimage. 9 not dwell there neither, for the Building is not finish'd ; the Doors and Windows are all open, and the Wind blows thro' it ; and not far off is a Place, where Oceanns the Father of the Winds resides. Men. That's a hard Case, where does she dwell then ? Ogy. In that unfinish'd Church, that I spoke of, there is a little boarded Chapel, with a little Door on each Side to receive Visitors. There's but a little Light to it, but what comes from the Tapers ; but the Scent is very grateful. Men. All these Things conduce to Religion. Ogy. Nay, Menedemus, if you saw the Inside of it, you would say it was the Seat of the Saints, it is all so glittering with Jewels, Gold and Silver. Men. You set me agog to go thither too. Ogy. If you do, you will never repent of your Journey. Men. Is there any holy Oil there ? Ogy. Simpleton, that Oil is only the Sweat of Saints in their Sepulchres, as of Andrew, Catherine, &c. Mary was never buried. Men. I confess I was under a Mistake ; but make an End of your Story. Ogy. That Religion may spread itself the more widely, some Things are shewn at one Place, and some at another. Men. And it may be, that the Donations may be larger, according to the old Saying, Fit cito per multas praeda pctita manus. Many Hands will carry off much Plunder. Ogy. And there are always some at Hand, to shew you what you have a Mind to see. Men. What, of the Canons ? Ogy. No, no, they are not permitted, lest under the Colour of Religion they should prove irreligious, and while they are serving the Virgin, lose their own Virginity. Only in the inner Chapel, which I call the Chamber of the holy Virgin, a certain Canon stands at the Altar. Men. What does he stand there for ? Ogy. To receive and keep that which is given. Men. Must People give whether they will or no ? io Colloquies of Erasmus. Ogy. No : but a certain religious Modesty makes some give, when any Body stands by, which would not give a Farthing, if there were no Witness of it ; or give more than otherwise they would give. Men. You set forth human Nature, as I have experienc'd in myself. Ogy. There are some so devoted to the Holy Virgin, that while they pretend to lay one Gift on the Altar, by a wonderful Sleight of Hand, they steal what another has laid down. Men. But put the Case no Body were by, would the Vir- gin thunder at them ? Ogy. Why should the Virgin do that, any more than God himself does, whom they are not afraid to strip of his Orna- ments, and to break thro' the Walls of the Church to come at them ? Men. I can't well tell which I admire at most, the im- pious Confidence of those Wretches, or God's Patience. Ogy. At the north Side there is a certain Gate, not of a Church, don't mistake me, but of the Wall that incloses the Church-Yard, that has a very little Wicket, as in the great Gates of Noblemen, that he that has a Mind to get in, must first venture the breaking of his Shins, and afterwards stoop his Head too. Men. In Truth, it would not be safe for a Man to enter in against an Enemy at such a little Door. Ogy. You're in the Right on't. But yet the Verger told me, that some Time since a Knight on Horse-Back, having escaped out of the Hands of his Enemy, who follow'd him at the Heels, got in thro' this Wicket. The poor Man at the last Pinch, by a sudden Turn of Thought, recommended himself to the holy Virgin, that was the nearest to him. For he resolv'd to take Sanctuary at her Altar, if the Gate had been open. When behold, which is such a Thing as was never heard of, both Man and Horse were on a sudden taken into the Church-Yard, and his Enemy left on the out- Side of it, stark mad at his Disappointment. The Religious Pilgrimage. 1 1 Men. And did he give you Reason to believe so wonder- ful a Relation ? Ogy. Without Doubt. Men. That was no easy Matter to a Man of your Philo- sophy. Ogy. He shew'd me a Plate of Copper nail'd on the Door, that had the very Image of this Knight, that was thus sav'd ; and in the very Habit, which was then in Fashion among the English, which is the same we see in old Pictures, which, if they are drawn truly, the Barbers, and Dyers, and Weavers in those Days, had but a bad Time on't. Men. Why so ? Ogy. Why, he had a Beard like a Goat ; and there was not a Wrinkle in any of his Cloaths, they were made so strait to his Body, that the very Straitness of them made his Body the more slender. There was also another Plate that was an exact Description of the Chapel, and the Size of it. Men. Then there was no Doubt to be made on't. Ogy. Under the little Wicket there was an iron Grate, no bigger than what a Man on Foot could just get in at. For it was not fit that any Horse afterwards should tread upon that Place, which the former Knight had consecrated to the Virgin. Men. And very good Reason. Ogy. From hence towards the East, there is another Chapel full of Wonders ; thither I went. Another Verger received me. There we pray'd a little ; and there was shewn us the middle Joint of a Man's Finger ; I kiss'd it, and ask'd whose Relick it was. He told me it was St. Peter's ; what, said I, the Apostle ? He said it was. I then took Notice of the Bigness of the Joint, which was large enough to be taken for that of a Giant. Upon which, said I, Peter must Needs have been a very lusty Man. At this one of the Company fell a laughing ; I was very much vext at it, for if he had held his Tongue, the Verger would have shewn us all the Relicks. However, we pacified him pretty 12 Colloquies of Erasmus. well, by giving him a few Groats. Before this little Chapel stood a House, which he told us, in the Winter-Time when all Things were buried in Snow, was brought there on a sud- den, from some Place a great Way off. Under this House there were two Pits Brim-full, that were fed by a Fountain consecrated to the holy Virgin. The Water was wonderful cold, and of great Virtue in curing Pains in the Head and Stomach. Men. If cold Water will cure Pains in the Head and Stomach, in Time Oil will quench Fire. Ogy. But, my good Friend, you are hearing that which is miraculous ; for what Miracle is there in cold Water quench- ing Thirst ? Men. That Shift goes a great Way in this Story. Ogy. It was positively affirmed, that this Spring burst out of the Ground on a sudden, at the Command of the holy Virgin. I observing everything very diligently, ask'd him how many Years it was since that little House was brought thither ? He said it had been there for some Ages. But, said I, methinks the Walls don't seem to carry any Marks of Antiquity in them : He did not much deny it. Nor these Pillars, said I : He did not deny but those had been set up lately ; and the Thing shew'd itself plainly. Then, said I, that Straw and Reeds, the whole Thatch of it seems not to have been so long laid. He allow'd it. Nor do these cross Beams and Rafters, that bear up the Roof, seem to have been laid many Years ago. He confest they were not. And there being no Part of that Cottage remaining, said I to him, how then does it appear, that this is the very Cottage that was brought so far thro' the Air ? Men. Prithee, how did the Sexton extricate himself out of this Difficulty ? Ogy. He presently shew'd us an old Bear's Skin, tackt there to a Piece of Timber, and almost laught at us to our very Faces, for not having Eyes to perceive a Thing that was so plain. Therefore seeming to be satisfied, and ex- cusing our Dulness of Apprehension, we turned ourselves to the Heavenly Milk of the blessed Virgin. The Religious Pilgrimage. 1 3 Men. O Mother like her Son ! for as he has left us so much of his Blood upon Earth, so she has left us so much of her Milk, that it is scarce credible, that a Woman who never had but one Child, should have so much, altho' her Child had never suck'd a Drop. Ogy. And they tell us the same Stories about our Lord's Cross, that is shewn up and down, both publickly and pri- vately, in so many Places, that if all the Fragments were gathered together, they would seem to be sufficient Loading for a good large Ship ; and yet our Lord himself carried the whole Cross upon his Shoulders. Men. And don't you think this is wonderful ? Ogy. It may be said to be an extraordinary Thing, but not a wonderful one, since the Lord who encreases these Things according to his own Pleasure is Omnipotent. Men. You put a very pious Construction upon it, but I am afraid that a great many such Things are forged for the Sake of getting Money. Ogy. I cannot think God would suffer any one to put these Mockeries upon him. Men. Nay, when both the Mother and Son, Father and Spirit are robb'd by sacrilegious Persons, they don't seem to be mov'd the least in the World, so as to deter wicked Persons, so much as by a Nod or a Stamp ; so great is the Lenity of the Divine Being. Ogy. This is true, but hear me out : That Milk is kept upon the high Altar, in which Christ is in the Middle, and his Mother, for Respect Sake, at his right Hand ; for the Milk represents the Mother. Men. Why, is it plain to be seen then ? Ogy. It is preserv'd in a Crystal Glass. Men. Is it liquid then ? Ogy. What do you talk of being liquid, when it has been put in above 1 500 Years ago. It is so concreted, you would take it for beaten Chalk, temper'd with the White of an Egg. Men. But why don't they shew it open ? Ogy. Lest the Milk of the Virgin should be defil'd by the Kisses of Men. 14 Colloquies of Erasmus. Men. You say very well, for I believe there are some who put Lips to it, that are neither pure nor Virgin ones. Ogy. As soon as the Officer sees us, he runs presently and puts on a Surplice, and a Stole about his Neck, and falls down very devoutly and worships, and by and by gives us the holy Milk to kiss. Then we prostrated ourselves at the lowest Step of the Altar, and having first paid our Adora- tion to Christ, we apply 'd ourselves to the Virgin in the following Prayer, which we had fram'd before- Hand for this very Purpose. Virgin MotJier, wJw hast merited to give Suck to tlie Lord of Heaven and Earth, thy Son Jesus, from thy Virgin Breasts; we desire tJtat being purified by his Blood, we may arrive at that happy Infant State of Dove-like Innocence, which being void of Malice, Fraud, and Deceit, we may continually desire tlie Milk of ttie Evangelical Doctrine, until it grows up to a perfect Man, and to the Measure of tJte Fulness of Christ, whose blessed Society thou wilt enjoy for evermore, with tJte Fattier and tJie Holy Spirit. Amen. Men. Truly, a devout Prayer. But what Answer did she make ? Ogy. If my Eyes did not deceive me, they were both pleased : For the holy Milk seem'd to give a Leap, and the Eucharist seem'd to look somewhat brighter than usual. In the mean Time the Shewer of the Relicks came to us, with- out speaking a Word, holding out such a Kind of Table, as they in Germany that take Toll on the Bridges hold out to you. Men. In Truth, I have oftentimes cursed those craving Tables, when I travelled in Germany. Ogy. We laid down some Pieces of Money, which he pre- sented to the Virgin. After this, by our Interpreter, (If I remember right) one Robert Aldridge, a well spoken young Man, and a great Master of the English Tongue, I enquired, as civilly as I could, what Assurance he had, that this was really the Virgin's Milk. And truly, I desired to be satisfied of this with a pious Intention, that I might stop the Mouths The Religiotis Pilgrimage. 1 5 of some impious Persons, who are us'd to scoff at all these Things. The Officer first contracted his Brow without speak- ing a Word ; thereupon I prest the Interpreter to put the same Question to him again, but in the fairest Manner that could be ; and he did it in so obliging a Manner, that if he had address'd himself to the Mother herself in these Terms, when she had but newly lain in, she would not have taken it amiss. But the Officer, as if he had been inspired with some Enthusiasm, looking upon us with astonished Eyes, and with a Sort of Horror, cursing our blasphemous Expres- sion, said, What Need is tJiere for your putting this Question, wJien you Jiave an Authentick Record ? And had turn'd us out of Doors for Hereticks, had not a few Pence pacified his Rage. Men. But how did you behave yourselves in the In- terim ? Ogy. Just as if we had been stunned with a Cudgel, or struck with Thunder ; we sneak'd away, humbly begging his Pardon for our Boldness : For so a Man ought to do in holy Matters. Thence we went to the little Chapel, the Dwelling of the Virgin Saint. In our Way thither, an Ex- pounder of sacred Things, one of the Minors, offers himself ; he stares upon us as if he had a Mind to draw our Pictures ; and having gone a little further, another meets us, staring upon us after the same Manner ; and after him a third. Men. It may be they had a Mind to have drawn your Picture. Ogy. But I suspected far otherwise. Men. What did you imagine then ? Ogy. That some sacrilegious Person had stolen some of the Virgin's Vestments, and that I was suspected as the Thief. Therefore, having entred the Chapel, I address'd myself to the Virgin-Mother with this short Prayer. O thou who only of all Women art a Mother and a Vir- gin, tlie most happy of Mothers, and the purest of Virgins, we that are impure do now come to visit and address our- selves to thee that are pure, and reverence thee with our 1 6 Colloqu ies of Erasmus. poor Offerings, suck as tJiey are. O that thy Son would en- able us to imitate thy most holy Life, that zve may deserve, by tJie Grace of t lie Holy Spirit, to conceive tJie Lord Jesus in tJie most inward Bowels of our Minds, and having once conceivd him, never to lose him. Amen. So I kiss'd the Altar, laid down some Money, and withdrew. Men. What, did the Virgin hear ? Did she give you no Nod as a Token that she had heard your Prayer ? Ogy. As I told you before, it was but an uncertain Light, and she stood in the Dark at the right Side of the Altar : And the Check of the former Officer had made me so de- jected, that I did not dare to lift up my Eyes again. Men. Then this Adventure had not a very happy Con- clusion ? Ogy. Nay, the happiest of all. Men. Nay, now you put me in Courage again ; for, as your Homer says, my Heart was e'en sunk into my Breeches. Ogy. After Dinner we go to Church again. Men. How did you dare to do that, being suspected of Sacrilege ? Ogy. It may be I was : but I did not suspect myself. A clear Conscience fears nothing. I had a great Mind to see the Record that the Shewer of the Reliques had referr'd us to. Having hunted a great While for it, we found it at last ; but it was hung up so high, that he must have good Eyes that could read it : And mine are none of the best, nor none of the worst. Therefore, not being willing wholly to trust to him in a Matter of such Moment, I went along with Al- drisius as he read it. Men. Well ! and were all your Doubts remov'd ? Ogy. I was asham'd of myself, that I should doubt of a Matter, that there was made so plain before one's Eyes, the Name, the Place, the Order of the Proceeding, in one Word, there was nothing omitted. There was one William of Paris, a Man of general Piety, but more especially religious in getting together the Relicks of Saints all over the Earth. He having travelled over a great many Countries, and The Religious Pilgrimage. 1 7 having every where diligently search'd Monasteries and Churches, at last arriv'd at Constantinople ; (for this Wil- liam's Brother was a Bishop there). When he was prepar- ing to return Home, the Bishop acquainted him, that there was a certain Nun that had the Virgin's Milk ; and that he would be the happiest Man in the World, if he could possi- bly get any of it, either for Love or Money, or by any other Means ; for that all the Relicks he had hitherto collected, were nothing, compared to that sacred Milk. Upon this, William never was at rest, till he had obtain'd one Half of this Milk ; and having gotten this Treasure, thought him- self richer than Crcesus. Men. And very well he might, 'twas a Thing so unex- pected too. Ogy. He goes strait homeward, but falls sick by the Way. Men. O how little Trust is to be put in human Felicity, that it shall be either perfect or long-liv'd ! Ogy. Finding himself in Danger, he sends for a French- man, a faithful Fellow-Traveller, and makes him swear Secrecy ; and then delivers the Milk to him upon this Con- dition, That if he got Home safe, he should deposit that Treasure on the Altar of the holy Virgin that is worshipped at Paris, in that noble Church that has the River Sein on each Side of it, as if itself gave Place in Reverence to the Divinity of the Virgin. To sum up the Matter in few Words, William was buried ; the other rides Post, but he falls sick by the Way, and thinking himself past Recovery, he delivers the Milk to an Englishman that was his Fellow-Traveller, making him take a solemn Oath that he would perform that which he himself was to have done. The one dies, the other takes it, and puts it upon the Altar, in the Presence of all the Canons of the Place, those that at that Time were call'd Regulars, as they are yet at St. Genoveve : He obtain'd Half this Milk of them, and carried it into England, and made a Present of it to this beyond-Sea Place, his Mind being moved thereunto by a Divine Impulse. Men. Truly this Story hangs very handsomly together. VOL. II. B 1 8 Colloquies of Erasmus. Ogy. Nay farther, that there might not be left the least Room to doubt, the very Names of the Bishops were set down, that were authorized to grant Releases and Indulgen- ces to such as should come to see the Milk, according to the Power to them given, but not without some Donation or another. Men. And how far did that Power extend ? Ogy. To forty Days. Men. But are there Days in Purgatory ? Ogy. For certain there is Time there. Men. But when they have dispos'd of this Stock of forty Days, have they no more to bestow ? Ogy. No : For there ever and anon arises something for them to bestow, and 'tis in this quite otherwise than it is with the Tub of the Danaides. For tho' that is continually fill- ing, is always empty ; but in this, tho' you are continually drawing out, there is never the less in the Vessel. Men. But if the Remission of forty Days were given to a hundred thousand Men, would every one have so much ? Ogy. Yes, so much. Men. And suppose that they that have received forty Days in the Morning, should ask for forty Days more at Night, Would they have wherewithal to give them ? Ogy. Yes, ten Times over in an Hour. Men. I wish I had such a Cabinet at Home ; I would not wish for above three Groats, if they might be doubled and tripled after that Manner. Ogy. You might as well have wish'd to be all turn'd into Gold yourself, and as soon have had what you wish'd for. But to return to my Story, there was one Argument added, by a Man of great Piety and Candour, which is, that tho' the Virgin's Milk, which is shewn in many other Places, is in- deed venerable enough, in that it was scrap'd off from Stones, yet this was more venerable than all the rest, because this was sav'd as it flow'd from the Virgin's Breast, without touching the Ground. Men. But how does that appear ? The Religious Pilgrimage. \ 9 Ogy. O ! the Nun at Constantinople that gave it, said so. Men. It may be she had it of St. Bernard. Ogy. I believe she had. Men. He, when he was very old, had the Happiness to taste Milk from the same Nipple which the Child Jesus sucked. Whence I wonder he was not rather called Lacti- fluons than Mellifluous. But how is that called the Virgin's Milk that did not flow from her Breasts ? Ogy. That did flow from her Breasts, but dropping upon the Stone she sat upon, while she was giving suck, it con- creted, and was afterwards, by Providence, so multiplied. Men. Right. Go on. Ogy. These Things being over, we were just upon the Point of going away ; but walking about, and looking round us to see if there was any Thing worth taking Notice of, the Chapel-Officers come to us again, leering at us, pointing at us with their Fingers, they advance to us, retreat, run back- ward and forward, nod, as if they would fain have said some- thing to us, if they had had Courage enough to have done it. Men. And was not you afraid then ? Ogy. No, not at all ; but I looked them full in the Face very chearfully, as who should say, Speak and welcome. At length one of them comes up to me, and asked my Name. I told it him. He asked me if I was the Person that a Mat- ter of two Years ago set up a Votive Table in Hebrew Let- ters ? I told him I was. Men. Can you write Hebrew then ? Ogy. No, but they call every Thing Hebrew that they can't understand. But by and by (upon calling, as I suppose) came the TT/JCOTO? vcrrepos of the College. Men. What Title of Dignity is that ? Have they not an Abbot ? Ogy. No. Men. Why so ? Ogy. Because they don't understand Hebrew. Men. Have they no Bishop ? Ogy. None at all. 2O Colloquies of Erasmus. Men. Why so ? Ogy. Because the Virgin is so poor, that she has not where- with to buy a Staff and a Mitre. Men. Ha'n't they so much as a President ? Ogy. No, nor that neither. Men. What hinders ? Ogy. Because a President is a Name of Dignity, and not of Holiness, and therefore the Colleges of Canons reject the Name of an Abbot, but they willingly allow the Name of a President. Men. But this TT/HWTO? vo-repo? is what I never heard of before. Ogy. In Truth you are but an indifferent Grammarian then. Men. I know what va-repoirpcoTov is in Rhetoric. Ogy. Why that's it. He that is next the Prior is Pos- terior Prior. Men. You mean a Sub-Prior. Ogy. He saluted me very courteously. He told me what great Pains had been taken to read those Verses ; what wiping of Spectacles there had been to no Purpose ; how often one grave Doctor of Divinity, and another of Law, had been brought thither to expound the Table. One said the Letters were Arabick, another said they were fictitious ones ; but at last they found one that made a Shift to read the Title. It was written in Latin Words, and Latin Capi- tals. The Verses were Greek, in Greek Capitals, which at first Sight look'd like Roman Capitals. Being requested, I turn'd the Verses into Latin, Word for Word. They would have given me a Reward for this small Service, but I posi- tively refused it, affirming that there was nothing so difficult that I would not, with all the Readiness in the World, un- dertake for the Sake of the Holy Virgin, even if she should command me to carry a Letter for her from thence to Jeru- salem. Men. What Occasion can she have for you to be her Let- ter-Carrier, that has so many Angels for her Secretaries and Pages ? The Religious Pilgrimage. 2 1 Ogy. He pulled out of his Pouch a little Piece of Wood, cut off from the Beam on which the Virgin-Mother stood. The admirable Fragrancy of it, shewed it to be a Thing that was highly sacred. I having received this Present in the lowest Posture of Humility, and bare-headed, and having kiss'd it over and over, put it in my Pocket. Men. May a Body see it ? Ogy. I'll let you see it if you will. But if you have eaten or drank to Day, or have had to do with your Wife last Night, I would not advise you to look upon it. Men. Let me see it, there is no Danger. Ogy. Here 'tis for you. Men. O happy Man art thou that hast such a Present ! Ogy. Whether you know it or no, I would not exchange this little Fragment for all the Gold in Tagus. I'll set it in Gold, and put it in a Crystal Case, so that it may be seen through it. When this Hysteroprotos saw me so religiously transported with that small Present, thinking I deserved to have Things of greater Moment imparted to me, he asked me, if I had seen the Virgin's Secrets. That Word startled me a little, but I durst not ask him what he meant by the Virgin's Secrets ; for in Matters so sacred there is Danger in a Slip of the Tongue. I told him I had not seen them ; but I had a very great Desire to see them. Then I am con- ducted in as one in an Ecstacy. A Wax Taper or two was lighted, and a little Image was shewn me, that made no ex- traordinary Figure, neither for Magnitude, Matter, nor Workmanship, but of extraordinary Virtue. Men. Bulk has no great Matter in it, as to the doing of Miracles. I have seen St. Christopher at Paris, not him of a Cart-Load, or of the Size of a Colossus, but rather of a large Mountain ; but I never heard he was famous for doing Mi- racles. Ogy. At the Feet of the Virgin there is a Jewel, that neither the Latins nor Greeks have yet given a Name to. The French have given it a Name from a Toad, because it has the Resemblance of a Toad in it so lively, that no Art 22 Co lloquies of Erasmus. can match it. And that which is the more miraculous, is, that it is a very small Stone ; and the Image does not stand out of it, but is included in the very Body of the Stone, and may be seen thro' it. Men. Perhaps they may fancy they see the Likeness of a Toad cut in it, as some fancy they see that of an Eagle in the Stalk of a Brake or Fern ; and as Boys, who see every Thing in the Clouds, as Dragons breathing out Fire, burning Mountains and armed Men fighting. Ogy. Nay, that you may be thoroughly satisfied in the Matter, no living Toad ever shewed itself more plainly, than that is expressed there. Men. I have been hearing your Stories all this While ; but I would have you find out some Body else to give Credit to your Story of the Toad. Ogy. I don't at all wonder, Menedemus, that you are so incredulous ; I should not have believ'd it myself, if the whole Tribe of Divines had asserted it, unless I had seen it with these Eyes, I say, beheld with these very Eyes, and had experienced the Truth of it. But, methinks you seem not to be curious enough upon these natural Rarities. Men. Why so ? what, because I won't believe that Asses fly. Ogy. But do you not observe how Nature sports herself in imitating the Shapes and Colours of every Thing, in other Things, but especially in precious Stones ? And also, what admirable Virtues it has planted in them, which are alto- gether incredible, if common Experience did not force us to a Belief of them ? Prithee tell me, would you ever have be- lieved without seeing it with your Eyes, that Steel could have been drawn by the Load-Stone, without touching it, or be driven away from it without being touch'd by it ? Men. No, indeed I never should, although ten Aristotles had taken their Oaths of the Truth of it Ogy. Well then, don't say every Thing's a Fable that has not fallen within the Compass of your Experience. We find the Figure of a Bolt in a Thunder-Stone ; Fire in the The Religious Pilgrimage. 23 Carbuncle ; the Figure of Hail, and the Coldness of it in the Hail-Stone, nay, even tho' you throw it into the Midst of the Fire ; the deep and transparent Waves of the Sea in the Emerald; the Carcinias imitates the Figure of a Sea-Crab ; the Echites of a Viper ; the Scarites of a Gilt-Head ; the Theracites of a Hawk ; the Geranites shews you the figur'd Neck of a Crane ; the ALgophtftalmus shews the Eye of a Goat ; and some shew that of a Hog, and another three Hu- man Eyes together ; The Lycophthalmus paints you out the Eye of a Wolf'm four Colours, fiery and bloody, and in the Middle, black encompassed with white ; if you open the black Cyamea, you will find a Bean in the Middle ; the Dryites represents the Trunk of a Tree, and burns like Wood ; The Cissites and Narcissites represent Ivy ; the Astrapias darts forth Rays of Lightning out of the Midst of white or blue ; the Phlegontites shews a Flame within, that does not come out ; in the Anthracitis you may see certain Sparks running too and fro ; the Crocias represents the Colour of Saffron ; the Rhodites that of a Rose ; the Chalcites of Brass ; the Aetites the Figure of an Eagle, with a white Tail ; the Taos represents a Peacock ; the CJielidonia an Asp ; the Mermecites has the Image of a creeping Pismire growing within it ; the Cantharias shews a perfect Beetle ; and the Scorpites admirably decyphers a Scorpion. But why should I proceed to recount that which is innumerable, when there is no Part of Nature, either in Elements, Animals, or Plants, which Nature, as it were to sport herself, does not give us some Resemblance of in Stones ? And do you then admire that the Form of a Toad is represented in the Bufonites ? Men. I wonder that Nature has so much spare Time, as to divert herself in drawing the Pictures of every Thing. Ogy. It has a Mind to exercise the Curiosity of Mankind, and by that Means to keep us from being idle. And yet as tho' we were at a Loss to know how to pass away our Time, we run a madding after Buffoons, Dice, and Jugglers. Men. You say true. Ogy. And some Persons of Credit add, that if you put 24 Colloquies of Erasmus. this Toad-Stone into Vinegar, it will move its Legs and swim. Men. But why is this dedicated to the Virgin ? Ogy. Because she has overcome, trampled upon, and ex- tinguished all Uncleanness, Malice, Pride, Avarice, and all Manner of earthly Desires. Men. Woe to us then who carry so much of the Toad still in our Hearts ! Ogy. But we shall be pure if we worship the Virgin as we ought. Men. How would she have us worship her ? Ogy. You will perform most acceptable Service to her if you imitate her. Men. That's soon said, but not so easily performed. Ogy. It is hard, indeed ; but then it is very well worth the Pains. Men. Come on, go forwards in what you have begun. Ogy. Afterwards he shewed me Statues of Gold and Sil- ver : This, says he, is solid Gold ; and this is only Silver gilt ; he told me the Weight of every one, the Price, and the Name of the Donor. I being full of Admiration at every Thing, and congratulating the Virgin being Mistress of so much Wealth, says the Officer to me, Inasmuch as I perceive you are so pious a Spectator, I think I should not do fairly by you, if I should conceal any Thing from you ; therefore you shall see the greatest Privacies the Virgin has : And pre- sently he takes out of a Drawer from under the Altar a World of admirable Things, the Particulars of which, if I should proceed to mention, the Day would not be long enough ; so that thus far the Journey succeeded to my Wish. I satisfied my Curiosity abundantly with fine Sights, and brought Home with me this inestimable Present, a Pledge of the Virgin's Love, given me by herself. Men. Did you ever make Trial of the Virtues of this Piece of Wood ? Ogy. I have. Three or four Days ago, I being in an House of Entertainment, found a Man stark mad, whom The Religious Pilgrimage. 25 they were just going to put into Chains ; I put this Piece of Wood privately under his Bolster, and he fell into a sound Sleep, and slept a long Time, and when he rose in the Morn- ing he was as sober as ever. Men. Perhaps he was not distracted but drunk, and Sleep commonly cures that Distemper. Ogy. Menedemus, since you love to use Raillery, take another Subject. It is neither pious nor safe to make Sport with Saints. Nay, the Man himself told me, That there was a Woman appeared to him in his Sleep of an incomparable Beauty, that held forth a Cup to him to drink. Men. Hellebore, I believe. Ogy. That's uncertain ; but this is certain, that the Man recover'd his Reason. Men. Did you pass by Thomas Archbishop of Canter- bury ? Ogy. No, I think I did not. It is one of the most reli- gious Pilgrimages in the World. Men. I long to hear it, if it won't be too much Trouble to you. Ogy. It is so far from that, that you will oblige me in hearing of it. That Part of England that looks towards Flanders and France is called Kent : The Metropolis of it is Canterbury. There are two Monasteries in it, that are al- most contiguous ; and they are both of Benedictines. That which bears the Name of Augustine, is the antienter of the two ; that which is now called by the Name of St. Thomas, seems to have been the Seat of St. Thomas the Archbishop, where he had led his Life with a few Monks, whom he chose for his Companions, as now-a-Days Deans have their Palaces near the Church, tho' separate from the Houses of other Can- ons. For, in old Time, both Bishops and Canons were Monks, as appears by the manifest Vestigia of Things. But the Church, that is dedicated to St. Thomas, raises itself up towards Heaven with that Majesty, that it strikes those that behold it at a great Distance, with an Awe of Religion, and now, with its Splendor, makes the Light of the neighbour- 26 Colloquies of Erasmus. ing Palaces look dim, and as it were obscures the Place that was antiently the most celebrated for Religion. There are two lofty Turrets, which stand, as it were, bidding Visitants welcome from afar off ; and a Ring of Bells that make the adjacent Country echo far and wide with their rolling Sound. In the south Porch of the Church stand three Stone Statues of Men in Armour, who with wicked Hands murdered the holy Man, with the Names of their Countries, Tusci, Fusci, and Berti. Men. Why have such wicked Men so much Honour done them ? Ogy. They have the same Honour done to them, that is done to Judas, Pilate, Caiaphas, and the Band of wicked Soldiers, whose Images you may see carv'd upon stately Altars : And their Names are added, that none after them might arrogate to themselves the Glory of the Fact. They are set there in open Sight, to be a Warning to wicked Cour- tiers, that no one may hereafter presume to lay his Hand on either Bishops or the Possessions of the Church. For these three Ruffians ran mad with Horror of the Fact they had committed ; nor had they come to themselves again, had not holy Thomas been implored in Favour of them. Men. O the perpetual Clemency of Martyrs ! Ogy. When you are entered in, a certain spacious Ma- jesty of Place opens itself to you, which is free to every one. Men. Is there nothing to be seen there ? Ogy. Nothing but the Bulk of the Structure, and some Books chained to the Pillars, containing the Gospel of Nico- demus, and the Sepulchre of, I can't tell who. Men. And what else ? Ogy. Iron Grates inclose the Place called the Choir, so that there's no Entrance ; but so that the View is still open from one End of the Church to the other. You ascend to this by a great many Steps, under which there is a certain Vault that opens a Passage to the North Side. There they shew a wooden Altar, consecrated to the holy Virgin ; it is a very small one, and remarkable for nothing, except as a Monu- The Religious Pilgrimage. 27 ment of Antiquity, reproaching the Luxury of the present Times. In that Place the good Man is reported to have ta- ken his last Leave of the Virgin, when he was at the Point of Death. Upon the Altar is the Point of the Sword, with which the Top of the Head of that good Prelate was wounded, and some of his Brains that were beaten out, to make sure Work on't. We most religiously kiss'd the sacred Rust of this Weapon, out of Love to the Martyr. Leaving this Place, we went down into a Vault under Ground ; to that there belong two Shewers of Relicks. The first Thing they shew you, is the Skull of the Martyr, as it was bored through ; the upper Part is left open to be kiss'd, all the rest is cover'd over with Silver. There also is shewn you a leaden Plate with this Inscription, Thomas Acrensis. And there hang up in a great Place, the Shirts of Hair-Cloth, the Gird- les, and Breeches, with which this Prelate used to mortify his Flesh, the very Sight of which is enough to strike one with Horrour, and to reproach the Effeminacy and Delicacy of our Age. Men. Nay, perhaps of the Monks themselves. Ogy. That I can neither affirm nor deny, nor does it sig- nify much to me. Men. You say right. Ogy. From hence we return to the Choir. On the north Side they open a private Place. It is incredible what a World of Bones they brought out of it, Skulls, Chins, Teeth, Hands, Fingers, whole Arms, all which we having first adored, kiss'd ; nor had there been any End of it, had it not been for one of my Fellow-Travellers, who indiscreetly in- terrupted the Officer that was shewing them. Men. Who was he ? Ogy. He was an Englishman, his Name was Gratian Pullus, a Man of Learning and Piety, but not so well af- fected to this Part of Religion as I could wish he were. Men. I fancy he was a Wickliffite. Ogy. No, I believe he was not, tho' he had read his Books ; but I don't know where he had them. 28 Colloqmes of Erasmus. Men. Did he make the Officer angry ? Ogy. He took out an Arm having yet some bloody Flesh upon it ; he shew'd a Reluctance to the Kissing it, and a Sort of Uneasiness in his Countenance : And presently the Officer shut up all his Relicks again. After this we view'd the Table of the Altar, and the Ornaments ; and after that those Things that were laid up under the Altar : all was very rich ; you would have said Midas and Crcesus were Beggars compar'd to them, if you beheld the great Quantities of Gold and Silver. Men. And was there no Kissing here ? Ogy. No, but my Mind was touch'd with other Sorts of Wishes. Men. What where they ? Ogy. It made me sigh to think I had no such Relicks in my own House. Men. A sacrilegious Wish ! Osy. I confess it, and I humbly begg'd Pardon of the Saint, before I set my Foot out of the Church. After this we were carry'd into the Vestry. Good God ! What a Pomp of Silk Vestments was there, of Golden Candlesticks ! There we saw also St. T/iomas's Pastoral Staff : It look'd like a Reed plated over with Silver ; it had but little of Weight, and nothing of Workmanship, and was no longer than up to one's Girdle. Men. Was there never a Cross ? Ogy. I saw none : There was a Gown shewn, it was Silk indeed, but coarse, and without Embroidery of Jewels ; and a Handkerchief, still having plain Marks of Sweat and Blood from the Saint's Neck. We readily kiss'd these Monuments of antient Frugality. Men. Are these shewn to every Body ? Ogy. No certainly, my good Friend. Men. How then did you come to have such Credit with them, that none of their Secrets were conceal'd from you ? Ogy. I had some Acquaintance with the Reverend Pre- late William War/iam the Archbishop, and he recommended me. The Religious Pilgrimage. 29 Men. I have heard he was a Man of great Humanity. Ogy. Nay, if you knew the Man, you would take him for Humanity itself. He was a Man of that Learning, that Can- dour of Manners, and that Piety of Life, that there was no- thing wanting in him to make him a most accomplish'd Prelate. From hence we were conducted up higher ; for, behind the high Altar, there is another Ascent, as into another Church. In a certain Chapel there was shewn to us the whole Face of the good Man set in Gold, and adorned with Jewels ; and here a certain unexpected Chance had near interrupted all our Felicity. Men. I want sadly to hear what mischievous Matter this was. Ogy. My Friend Gratian lost himself here extremely. After a short Prayer, he says to the Assistant of him that shew'd us the Reliques, Good Father, is it true, as I have heard, that Thomas, while he liv'd, was very charitable to the Poor ? Very true, replies he, and began to relate a great many Instances of his Charity. Then, answers Gratian, I don't believe that good Inclination in him is changed, unless it be for the better. The Officer assented. Then, says he again, if this holy Man was so liberal to the Poor, when he was a poor Man himself, and stood in Need of Charity for the Support of his own Body, don't you think he would take it well now, when he is grown so rich, and wants nothing, if some poor Woman having a Family of Children at Home ready to starve, or Daughters in Danger of being under a necessity to prostitute themselves for want of Portions, or a Husband sick in Bed, and destitute of all Comforts ; if such a Woman should ask him Leave to make bold with some small Portion of these vast Riches, for the Relief of her Family, taking it either as by Consent, or by Gift, or by Way of Borrowing ? The Assistant making no Answer to this, Gratian being a warm Man, I am fully persuaded, says he, that the good Man would be glad at his Heart, that when he is dead he could be able to relieve the Necessities of the Poor with his Wealth. Upon this the Shewer of the Relicks 3ayia. 6 7 But. Then for the future, I'll say I admonish you, not I command you. Fish. That will be wisely done. But. But suppose I see my Neighbour in Danger, and therefore I take him aside and Admonish him privately to withdraw himself from the Society of Drunkards and Game- sters, but he slighting my Admonition, lives more profli- gately than before ; does my Admonition lay him under an Obligation ? Fish. In my Opinion it does. But. Then neither by Counsel nor Exhortation we avoid the Snare. Fish. Nay, it is not Admonition, but the Argument of Ad- monition that brings into the Snare. For if I admonish my Brother to make Use of Slippers, and he does not do it, he is not guilty of a Crime. But. I will not put the Question at this Time, how far the Prescriptions of Physicians are obligatory. Does a Vow lay liable to the Pain of eternal Damnation ? Fish. Yes. But. What, all Kind of Vows ? Fish. Ay, all universally, if they be possible, lawful and voluntary. But. What do you mean by voluntary ? Fish. That which is extorted by no Necessity. But. What is Necessity ? Fish. Fear falling upon a Man of Constancy. But. What, upon a Stoick, such a one as Horace says, if tJie World fall to Pieces about his Ears, would not be afraid? Fish. Shew me such a Stoick> and then I'll give you an Answer. But. But, without Jesting, can the Fear of Famine or In- famy fall upon a Man of Constancy ? Fish. Why not ? But. Suppose a Daughter that is not at her own Disposal, should marry privately, without the Consent of her Parents, who would not give their Consent if they knew it ; will the Vow be lawful ? 68 Colloquies of Erasmus. Fish. It will. But. I can't tell whether it be or no ; but this I am sure of, if there be any such, this is one of the Number of those which, altho' they be true, yet lest they be a Scandal to the weak, are to be kept secret. Again, suppose a Virgin who, by her Parents Consent, has engaged herself in Marriage to her Lover, should enter herself in the Cloister of St. Clare ; will this Vow be allowable and lawful ? Fish. Yes, if it be a solemn one. But. Can that be solemn that is done in a Field, and a dark Monastery ? Fish. It is accounted so. But. Suppose the same Person at Home, a few Witnesses being present, should make a Vow of perpetual Virginity, will it not be a lawful Vow ? Fish. No. But. Why so? Fish. Because a more holy Vow is in the Way. But. If the same Maid sell a Field, will the Contract be good ? Fish. I think not. But. And will it be valid if she give herself into the Power of another ? Fish. If she devote herself to God. But. And does not a private Vow devote a Person to God ? And does not he that receives the holy Sacrament of Matrimony, devote himself to God ? And can they whom God has joined together, devote themselves to the Devil ? when only of married Persons God has said, Whom God has joined, let no Man put asunder. And besides this, when a young Man not come of Age, and a simple Maid, by the Threats of Parents, Severity of Tutors, the wicked Instiga- tion of Monks, fair Promises, and Terrifyings, is thrust into a Nunnery ; is the Vow a free Vow ? Fish. Yes, if they are at Years of Discretion. But. A Virgin of that Age is emphatically doli capax, being easy to be imposed upon. What if I should purpose 69 in my Mind to drink no Wine on a Friday ? would my Pur- pose bind me as strongly as a Vow ? Fish. I don't think it would. But. What Difference is there then between a determinate Purpose, and a Vow conceiv'd in the Mind ? Fish. The Mind of binding. But. You deny'd but just now, that the Mind signified any Thing in this Matter. Do I purpose if I am able, and vow whether I am able or not ? Fish. You have it. But. Have it ? I have Clouds painted upon the Wall, that is just nothing at all. What then, is the Ratio of the Mat- ter to be disregarded in a Purpose ? Fish. I think so. But. And must we take Care of that on Account of the Law, and this on Account of the Vow ? Fish. Yes. But. Suppose the Pope should make a Law, that no Body should marry any one within the seventh Degree of Affi- nity, would he be guilty of a Sin that should marry a Cousin in the sixth Degree ? Fish. In my Opinion he would. But. What if a Bishop should put forth an Edict, that no Body should have to do with his Wife except on a Monday, Thursday, and Saturday ? would he be guilty of a Sin that should have to do with her upon other Days ? Fish. I think he would. But. What if he should enjoin, that no Body should eat bulbous Roots ? Fish. What does that signify to Piety. But. Because bulbous Roots are Provocatives, but what I say of Bulbs, I say even of the Herb Rocket ? Fish. I can't well tell. But. Why, can't you tell where lies the Force of Obliga- tion in human Laws ? Fish. In the Words of St. Paul, Be obedient to those that are set over you. 70 Colloquies of Erasmus. But. Upon this Foot the Constitution of a Bishop and Magistrate binds all Persons. Fish. Yes, if it be just, and lawfully made. But. But who shall be Judge of that ? Fish. He that made it : For he that makes the Law ought to interpret it. But. What then, must we be obedient to all Constitutions, without Distinction ? Fish. I think we should. But. What if a Fool or a wicked Person be set over us, and he make a foolish and wicked Law ? must we abide by his Judgment ? and must the People obey, as having no Right to judge ? Fish. What signifies it to suppose what is not ? But. He that succours his Father, and would not succour him, unless the Law oblig'd him to it, does he fulfil the Law or not ? Fish. No, I think he does not. But. Why not ? Fish. In the first Place, because he does not fulfil the Will of the Law-Giver : Secondly, he adds Hypocrisy to his wicked Will. But. If he fasts, that would not fast unless the Church requir'd him, does he satisfy the Law ? Fish. You change both the Author of the Law, and the Matter of it. But. Well then, compare a Jew, if he fasting upon Days appointed, would not fast unless the Law requir'd him, with a Christian, who keeping a Fast appointed by Men, would not keep it if there were no Law for it ; or if you had rather, a Jew abstaining from Swine'sVFlesh, and a Christian abstain- ing from Flesh and Milk-Meats on Friday. Fish. I believe there ought to be some Grains of Allow- ance made to Infirmity, tho' the Law be against it ; but not so to him that on purpose acts and murmurs against a Law. But. But you do allow, that the divine Laws do not al- ways oblige to eternal Damnation. *I%6voa < yta. j j Fish. Why should I not ? But. But do you not dare to own, that there is any human Law which does not bind to the same Penalty, but leave a Man in Suspense ? Then you seem to attribute something more to the Laws of Men than to the Laws of God. Lying and Backbiting are evil in their own Nature, and forbidden by God himself; and yet you acknowledge that some Kind of Lyes and Backbitings do not bind a Person to the Punish- ment of Hell : And yet you don't dare to exempt a Person from the same Punishment, that upon any Condition what- soever eats Flesh on a Friday. Fish. It is none of my Business to acquit or condemn any one. But. If divine and human Laws bind equally alike, what Difference is there between one and the other ? Fish. This Difference, that he that transgresses a human Law, sins immediately against Man, (if you will allow me to use School-Terms) but mediately against God ; he that trans- gresses a Divine Law, e contra. But. Where's the Difference, in mingling Vinegar and Wormwood, which is put in first, if I must drink 'em both ? Or, what Matter is it, whether a Stone that has given me a Wound, rebounds from me to a Friend directly or side- ways ? Fish. I have learn'd that. But. And if the Modus of a Law's binding, in Laws of both Kinds, is to be taken from the Matter and Circum- stances, what Difference is there between the Authority of God, and that of Man ? Fish. Indeed a very wicked Question ! But. There are, for all that, a great many that don't think there is much Difference. God gave a Law by Moses, and it is not lawful to violate it : And he also gives Laws by a Pope, or a Council ; What Difference is there between the one and the other ? Moses's Law was given by a Man, and our Laws were given by Men. And it should seem that those Laws which God gave by one Moses, should be of less Mo- 72 Colloquies of Erasmus. ment than those which the Holy Spirit gives by a full Coun- cil of Bishops and learned Men. Fish. It is unlawful to doubt concerning the Spirit of Moses. But. Paul comes in the Place of a Bishop ; what Difference is there then betwixt the Precepts of Paul and of any other Bishop ? Fish. Because, without Controversy, Paul wrote by the Inspiration of the Spirit But. How far extends this Authority of Writers ? Fish. I think no farther than the Apostles themselves, unless that the Authority of Councils ought to be look'd upon inviolable. But. Why may we not doubt of Paul's, Spirit ? Fish. Because the Consent of the Church is against it But. May we doubt concerning that of Bishops ? Fish. We ought not rashly to be suspicious of those, un- less the Matter manifestly savours of Gain or Impiety. But. But what think you of the Councils ? Fish. We ought not to doubt of them, if they are rightly constituted and managed by the Holy Spirit But. Is there then any Council that is not so ? Fish. It is possible there may be such, otherwise Divines would never have made this Exception. But. Then it seems that it is lawful to doubt concerning Councils themselves. Fish. I don't think we may, if they be received and ap- proved by the Judgment and Consent of Christian Nations. But. But since we have exceeded the Bound that God has set, and within which he would have the sacred and invio- lable Authority of the Scripture circumscribed, it seems to me, that there is some other Difference betw r een Laws di- vine and human. Fish. What is that ? But. Divine Laws are immutable, unless such as are of that Kind, that they seem to be given only for a Time, for the Sake of Signification and Coercion, which the Prophets foretold should end, as to the carnal Sense of them, and the Apostles have taught us are to be omitted. And then again, as to human Laws ; there are sometimes unjust, foolish, and hurtful Laws made, and therefore either abrogated by the Authority of Superiors, or by the universal Neglect of the People : But there is nothing such in the divine Laws. Again, a human Law ceases of itself, when the Causes for which it was made cease ; as for Instance, suppose a Con- stitution should enjoin all Persons yearly to contribute something towards building a Church, the Requirement of the Law ceases when the Church is built. Add to this, that a human Law is no Law, unless it be approved by the Con- sent of those who are to use it. A divine Law can't be dis- pensed with nor abrogated ; altho' indeed, Moses being about to make a Law, required the Consent of the People ; but this was not done because it was necessary, but that he might render them the more criminal in not keeping it. For, indeed, it is an impudent Thing to break a Law that you gave your Approbation to the making of. And in the last Place, inasmuch as human Laws commonly concern corporal Mat- ters, and are School-Masters to Piety, they seem to cease, when a Person has arrived to that Strength in Grace, that he does not stand in Need of any such Restraints, but only should endeavour to avoid giving an Offence to weak Per- sons, who are conscientiously scrupulous. As for Instance, suppose a Father enjoins a Daughter that is under Age, not to drink Wine, that she may with the greater Safety pre- serve her Virginity till she is married ; when she comes of Age, and is delivered up to a Husband, she is not bound to her Father's Injunction. There are many Laws that are like Medicaments, that are alter'd and give Place according to the Circumstances, and that with the Approbation of the Physicians themselves, who, if they should at all Times make Use of the Remedies the Antients prescribed, would kill more than they cure. Fish. You indeed heap a great many Things together, some of which I like, and others I do not, and some I don't understand. 74 Colloquies of Erasmus. But. If a Bishop's Law manifestly savours of Gain, that is, if he makes an Order, that every Parish-Priest every Year purchase, at a Guinea apiece, a Right of Absolution in those Cases that are called Episcopals, that he might extort the more Money from those in his Jurisdiction ; do you think it ought to be obey'd ? Fish. Yes, I think it ought ; but at the same Time we ought to exclaim against this unjust Law, but always avoid- ing Sedition. But how comes it about that you turn Cate- chiser at this Rate, Butcher ? Every one should keep to his own Trade. But. We are often perplexed with these Questions at Table, and sometimes the Contest proceeds to Blows and Bloodshed. Fish. Well, let them fight that love fighting ; I think we ought with Reverence to receive the Laws of our Superiors, and religiously observe them, as coming from God ; nor is it either safe or religious either to conceive in Mind, or sow among others any sinister Suspicion concerning them. And if there be any Tyranny in them, that does not compel us to Impiety, it is better to bear it, than seditiously to resist it. But. I confess this is a very good Way to maintain the Authority of Persons in Power ; I am pretty much of your Mind, and as for them, I do not envy them. But I should be glad to hear any Thing wherein the Liberty and Advan- tage of the People is aimed at Fish. God will not be wanting to his People. But. But where all this While is that Liberty of the Spirit that the Apostles promise by the Gospel, and which Paul so often inculcates, saying, The Kingdom of God consists not in Meat and Drink ; and that we are not Children under a School-Master ; and that we do no longer serve the Elements of this World \ and Abundance of other Expressions: if Christians are tied to the Observance of so many more Ceremonies than the Jews were ; and if the Laws of Man bind more closely than a great many Commands of God ? Fish. Well, Butcher, I'll tell you, the Liberty of Christians does not consist in its being lawful for 'em to do what they will, being set free from human Ordinances, but in that they do those Things that are enjoined them with a Fervour of Spirit and Readiness of Mind, willingly and chearfully, and so are Sons rather than Servants. But. Very cleverly answer'd indeed ! But there were Sons under the Mosaic Law, and there are now Servants under the Gospel ; and I am afraid the greatest Part of Mankind are so, if they are Servants who do their Duty by Compul- sion. What Difference is there then between the new Dis- pensation and the old ? Fish. A great Deal in my Opinion : Because the old taught under a Veil, and the new is laid open to View ; that which the old foretold by Parables and Riddles, the new explains clearly ; what that promised darkly, this exhibits for the most Part manifestly : that was given to one Nation singly, this equally teaches all the Way of Salvation ; that imparted that notable and spiritual Grace to a few Prophets and fa- mous Men, but this largely sheds abroad every Kind of Gifts, as Tongues, healing Diseases, Prophecies and Miracles, into Persons of all Ages, Sexes, and Nations whatsoever. But. Where are those Gifts now ? Fish. They are ceased, but not lost, either because there is no Need of them, now the Doctrine of Christ is spread abroad, or else because many are only Christians in Name, and we want Faith, which is the Worker of Miracles. But. If Miracles are necessary on Account of Unbelievers, I'm sure the World is full of them now. Fish. This is an Unbelief simply erring, such as that of the Jews murmuring against Peter, because he had received Cornelius's Family into the Grace of the Gospel ; and such as was that of the Gentiles, who thought the Religion they had received from their Ancestors was sufficient to Salva- tion ; and the Apostles Doctrine to be a strange Supersti- tion : These were converted by seeing Miracles. But now those that believe not the Gospel when it shines so glori- ously thro' the whole World, do not err simply, but being 76 Colloquies of Erasmus. blinded by their evil Affections, will not understand that they may do what is good ; such as these no Miracles would reduce to a better Mind. And now is the Time of healing, but the Time of punishing will come. But. Indeed you have said many Things that have a Pro- bability in them : however, I am resolved not to depend upon the Judgment of a Salt-Fishmonger; but I will go to some Divine, eminent for Learning, and what he says con- cerning all these Things, I'll believe. Fish. Who ? Pharetrius ? But. He dotes before he is old, and is fit to preach to none but doting old Women. Fish. Well then, what ? Bliteus ? But. Do you think I'll give any Credit to a prating So- phister ? Fish. Well then, Amphicholus ? But. I'll never trust him to answer Questions, that never answer'd my Demands for the Meat I trusted him. Can he resolve hard Questions, that was always insolvent as to his Debts ? Fish. Who then ? Lemantius ? But. I shan't chuse a blind Man to shew me the Way. Fish. Who then ? But. If you have a Mind to know, it is Cephalus, a Man very well versed in three Languages, and accomplish'd with all good Literature, familiarly acquainted with the sacred Scriptures, and antient Fathers. Fish. I'll advise you better : Go to the Elysian Shades, and there you'll find Rabin Druin, he'll cut all your knotty Questions in two with a Pair of Sheers. But. Do you go before and clear the Way. Fish. But, setting aside Jesting, is that true you told me, of a Dispensation for Flesh-eating ? But. No, I did but joke with you to teaze you. And if the Pope had ever so much Mind to do it, you Fishmongers would raise Mobs about it. And besides, the World is full of a Sort of Pharisees, who have no other Way of appearing 'I%0vo(f>aalde opportune loquutus. A little while ago I was talking of these Things at the Table, and, as ill Luck would have it, there sat a ragged, lousy, stern, old, wither'd, white-liver'd Fellow, he had scarce three Hairs on his Head, and whenever he open'd his Mouth, he shut his Eyes ; they said he was a Divine, and he call'd me a Dis- ciple of Antichrist, and a great many such like Things. Fish. What did you do then ? Did you say nothing ? But. I wish'd him a Dram of sound Judgment in his stink- ing Brain, if he had any. Fish. I should be glad to hear the whole of that Story. But. So you shall, if you will come and dine with me on Thursday next ; you shall have a Veal-Pye for Dinner, so tender bak'd, that you may suck it thro' a Quill. Fish. I'll promise you I will come ; if you'll come and dine with me on Friday, I'll/convince you, that we Fishmong- ers don't live merely on stinking Salt-Fish. 99 The FUNERAL. The ARGUMENT. This Colloquy paints out the different Kinds of Deaths in two private Persons, describing, as in a Picture, the extravagant Expence that those Persons are at, who put their Confidence in Fictions, more than those that trust in the Mercy of God. In the Person of George Balearicus, he takes Occasion to rally the foolish Ambition of rich Men, wJto extend their Luxury and Pride beyond even Death itself. That the Way to Death is harder than Death itself. That God would therefore have Death to be terrible to us, that we might not be ready to contemn Life. That Physicians dont use to be present where Per- sons are dying. Of the Orders of Monks, who play upon tJu Folly of rich Men for their own Gain, when it should be their Business especially to correct it. The Pompousness of the Venetians at Funerals, altko it be but that of a Cobler. Cornelius, a Man truly pious, composes himself for Death after another, and indeed a more Christian Manner. MARCOLPHUS, PH^EDRUS. A/fAR. Where have you been, Pluzdrusl What, are you just come out of Trophonius 1 ^ Cave ? Ph. What makes you ask me that Question ? Mar. Because you look so horridly sad, sour, and slovenly ; in short, you don't look at all like what you are called. too Colloquies of 'Erasmus. Ph. If they that have been a long Time in a Smith's Shop, commonly have a Dirty Face, do you wonder that I that have been so many Days with two Friends that were sick, dying, and are now buried, should look a little more sad than I used to do, especially when they were both of them my very dear Friends ? Mar. Who are they that you talk of? Ph. I suppose you know George Balearictis, don't you ? Mar. I know him by Name, and that's all ; I never saw his Face. Ph. I know the other was wholly a Stranger to you ; his Name was Cornelius Montius. They were both of them my particular Friends, and had been so for many Years. Mar. It was never my Lot to be by where any one was dying. Ph. But it has been mine too often, if I might have had my Wish. Mar. Well, but is Death so terrible a Thing as they make it? Ph. The Way to't is worse than the Thing itself ; so that if a Man could free his Mind from the Terror and Appre- hension of it, he would take away the worst Part of it. And, in short, whatsoever is tormenting, either in Sickness or in Death itself, is render'd much more easy by Resignation to the Will of God ; for, as to the Sense of Death, when the Soul is departing from the Body, I am of Opinion, they are either wholly insensible, or the Faculty is become very dull and stupid ; because Nature, before it comes to that Point, lays asleep and stupifies all the sensible Faculties. Mar. We are born without Sense of Pain, as to ourselves. Ph. But we are not born without Pain to our Mother. Mar. Why might we not die so ? Why would God make Deatli so full of Pain ? Ph. He was pleased to make Birth painful and dangerous to the Mother, to make the Child the dearer to her ; and Death formidable to Mankind, to deter them from laying violent Hands upon themselves ; for when we see so many The Funeral. 101 make away themselves, as the Case stands, what do you think they would do, if Death had no Terror in it ? As often as a Servant, or a Son, is corrected, or a Woman is angry at her Husband, any Thing is lost, or any Thing goes cross, Men would presently repair to Halters, Swords, Rivers, Precipices, or Poisons. Now the Bitterness of Death makes us put a greater Value upon Life, especially since the Dead are out of the Reach of the Doctor. Altho', as we are not all born alike, so we do not all die alike ; some die suddenly, others pine away with a languishing Illness ; those that are seized with a Lethargy, and such as are stung by an Asp, are as it were cast into a sound Sleep, and die without any Sense of Pain. I have made this Observation, that there is no Death so painful, but a Man may bear it by Resolution. Mar. But which of them bore his Death the most like a Christian ? Ph. Why truly, in my Opinion, George died the most like a Man of Honour. Mar. Why then, is there any Sense of Ambition, when a Man comes to that Point ? Ph. I never saw two People make such different Ends. If you will give me the Hearing, I'll tell you what End each of them made, and you shall judge which of them a Chris- tian would chuse to make. Mar. Give you the Hearing! Nay, I desire you will not think much of the Trouble, for I have the greatest Mind in the World to hear it. Ph. Well then, you shall first hear how George died. As soon as ever the certain Symptoms of Death appeared, the Physicians, who had attended upon him during his Sick- ness, saying never a Word of the Despair they had of his Life, demanded their Fees. Mar. How many Doctors had he ? Ph. Sometimes ten, sometimes twelve, but never under six. Mar. Enough in Conscience to have done the Business of a Man in perfect Health. Ph. As soon as ever they had gotten their Money, they IO2 Colloquies of Erasmus. privately hinted to some of his near Relations, that his Death was near at Hand, and that they should take Care of the Good of his Soul, for there was no Hope of his Re- covery ; and this was handsomely intimated by some of his particular Friends to the sick Man himself, desiring him that he would commit the Care of his Body to God, and only mind those Things that related to a happy Exit out of this World. George hearing this, look'd wonderful sourly at the Physicians, taking it very heinously, that they should leave him now in his Distress. They told him, that Physicians were but Men, and not Gods, and that they had done what Art could do, but there was no Physick would avail against Fate ; and so went into the next Chamber. Mar. What did they stay for after they were paid ? Ph. They were not yet agreed upon the Distemper ; one would have it to be a Dropsy, another a Tympany, another an Imposthume in the Guts : every Man of them would have it to be a different Disease ; and this Dispute they were very hot upon all the Time he was sick. Mar. The Patient had a blessed Time of it all this While ! Ph. And to decide this Controversy, they desired by his Wife, that the Body might be opened, which would be for his Honour, being a Thing very usual among Persons of Quality, and very beneficial to a great many others ; and that it would add to the Bulk of his Merits ; and lastly, they promised they would purchase thirty Masses at their own Charge for the Good of his Soul. It was a hard Mat- ter to bring him to it, but at last, by the Importunities and fair Words of his Wife and near Relations, he was brought to consent to it ; and this being done, the Consultation was dissolved ; for they say, it is not convenient that Physicians, whose Business it is to preserve Life, should be Spectators of their Patient's Death, or present at their Funerals. By and by Bernardine was sent for to take his Confession, who is, you know, a very reverend Man, and Warden of the Franciscans. His Confession was scarce over, but there was a whole houseful of the four Orders of Begging-Fryars, as they are called. The Funeral. 103 Mar. What ! so many Vultures to one Carcass ? Ph. And now the Parish-Priest was called, to give him the Extreme Unction, and the Sacrament of the Eucharist. Mar. That was very religiously done. Ph. But there had like to have been a very bloody Fray between the Parish-Priest and the Monks. Mar. What, at the sick Man's Bed-Side ? Ph. Nay, and Christ himself looking on too. Mar. Pray, what was the Occasion of so sudden a Hurly- burly ? Ph. The Parson of the Parish, so soon as ever he found the sick Man had confess'd to the Franciscan, did Point- blank refuse to give him either the Extreme Unction, the Eucharist, or afford him a Burial, unless he heard his Con- fession with his own Ears. He said he was the Parson of the Parish, and that he was accountable for his own Flock ; and that he could not do it, unless he was acquainted with the Secrets of his Conscience. Mar. And don't you think he was in the Right ? Ph. Why indeed they did not think so, for they all fell upon him, especially Bernardine, and Vincent the Dominican. Mar. What had they to say ? Ph. They rattled off the Parson soundly, calling him Ass, and one fitter to be a Pastor of Swine than Men's Souls. /, says Vincent, am a Batchelor of Divinity, and am shortly to be licensed, and take my Degree of Doctor ; and yon can scarce read the Collect, you are so far from being fit to dive into the Secrets of a Man's Conscience : but if you have such an Itch of Curiosity, go Home and inquire into the Privacies of your Concubine and Bastards. And a great Deal more of such Stuff that I am asham'd to mention. Mar. And did he say nothing to all this ? Ph. Nothing, do you say ? Never was any Man so nettled. /, says he, will make a better Batchelor tJian you, of a Bean- Stalk ; as for your Masters Dominic and Francis, pray where did they ever learn Aristotle'.? Philosophy, the A rguments of Thomas, or the Speculations of Scotus ? Where did they take Colloquies of Erasmus. tJieir Degree of BatcJiclors ? You have crept into a credulous World, a Company of mean Wretches, thd some I must con- fess were devout and learned. You nested at first in Fields and Villages, and thence anon you transplanted yourselves into opulent Cities, and none but the best Part of them neither would content you. Your Business lay then only in Places that could not maintain a Pastor ; but now, forsooth, none but great Men's Houses will serve your turn. You boast much of your being Priests ; but your Privileges are not worth a Rush, unless in the A bsence of the BisJwp, Pastor, or his Cu- rate. Not a Man of you shall ever come into my Pulpit, I'll assure you, as long as I am Pastor. It is true, I am no BatcJielor ; no more was St. Martin, and yet he discharged the Office of a Bishop for all that. If I have not so much Learning as I should, I will never come a begging to you for it. Do you think the World is so stupid, as to think the Holiness of Dominic and Francis is entail' d upon the Habit ? Is it any Business of yours, what I do at my own House ? It is very well known in the World what you do in your Cells, and Jww you handle your holy Virgins. No Body is ignorant 'that you make those rich Mens Houses you frequent, no better than they should be. For the rest, Marcolphus, you must ex- cuse me, it is too foul to be told ; but in Truth, he handled the Reverend Fathers very scurvily ; and there had been no End of it, if George had not held up his Hand, in To- ken he had something to say, and it was with much ado that the Storm was laid at last, tho' but for a little While. Then says the sick Man, Peace be among you, I' II confess my- self over again to you, Mr. Parson ; and as for tlie Charge of tolling the Bell, my Funeral-Rites, my Monument and Burial, they shall all be paid down to you before you go out of the House; I'll take Order t]tatyou shall have no Cause to complain. Mar. Did the Parson refuse this fair Proposal ? Ph. He did not absolutely refuse it, but he mutter'd something to himself about Confession ; but he remitted it at last, and told them, there was no Need of troubling the Patient, or the Priest, with the same Things over again ; but The Funeral. 105 if lie had confessed to me in Time, said he, perhaps lie would Jiave made his Will upon better Conditions ; but if it be not as it should be, you must now look to it. This Equity of the sick Man vexed the Monks to the Heart, who thought very much that any Part of the Booty should go to the Parson of the Parish. But upon my Intercession the Matter was composed ; the Parson gave the sick Man the Unction and the Sacrament, received his Dues, and went away. Mar. Well, now certainly a Calm follow'd this Storm, did there not ? Ph. So far from it, that this Storm was no sooner laid, than a worse follow'd. Mar. Upon what Ground pray ? Ph. I'll tell you. There were four Orders of Begging- Fryars in the House already ; and now, in comes a fifth of Cross-Bearers, against which all the other four Orders rise up in a Tumult, as illegitimate and spurious, saying, Where did you ever see a Waggon with five Wheels? or with what Face would they reckon more Orders of Mendicants, than there were Evangelists ? At this Rate ye may even as well call in all the Beggars to ye, from the Bridges and Cross- Ways. Mar. What Reply made the Cross-Bearers to this ? Ph. They asked them how the Waggon of the Church went before there were any Mendicants at all. And so after that, when there was but one Order, and then again when there were three ? As for the Number of the Evangelists, say they, it has no more Affinity with our Orders than with the Dye, for having on every Side four Angles. Pray, who brought the Augustines or Carmelites into the Order ? When did Austin or Elias go a begging ? For they make tJiem to be Principals of their Order. These and a great Deal more they thundred out violently ; but being over- power'd with Numbers of the four Orders, they could not stand the Charge, but were forced to quit the Ground, but threatning them with dreadful Things. Mar. Well, but I hope all was quiet now. Ph. Nay, not so, for this Confederacy against the fifth io6 Colloquies of Erasmus. Order, was come almost to Daggers drawing ; the Francis- can and Dominican would not allow the Augustines and Carmelites to be true Mendicants, but Bastards and Suppo- sititious. This Contention rose to that Height, that I was afraid it would have come to Blows. Mar. And could the sick Man endure all this ? Ph. They were not in his Bed-Chamber now, but in a Court that joined to it, but so that he could hear every Word they said ; for there was no whispering, believe me, but they very fairly exercised their Lungs. Besides, Men, as you know, are quicker of hearing than ordinary, in Sick- ness. Mar. But what was the End of this Dispute ? Ph. Why, the sick Man sent them Word by his Wife, that if they would but hold their Tongues a little, he would set all to Rights ; and therefore desired that the Augustines and Carmelites should go away for the present, and that they should be no Losers by it, for they should have the same Portion of Meat sent them Home, that those had that staid there. He gave Direction, that all the five Orders should assist at his Funeral, and that every one of them should have an equal Share of Money ; but that they should not all be set (down) at the common Table, lest they should fall together by the Ears. Mar. The Man understood Oeconomy, I perceive, that had the Skill to compose so many Differences, even upon his Death-Bed. Ph. Phoo ; he had been an Officer in the Army for many Years, where such Sort of Mutinies are common among the Soldiers. Mar. Had he a great Estate ? Ph. A very great one. Mar. But ill-gotten perhaps, as is common, by Rapine, Sacrilege, and Extortion. Ph. Indeed Officers commonly do so, and I will not swear for him that he was a Jot better than his Neighbours : But if I don't mistake the Man, he made his Fortune by his Wit, rather than by down-right Violence. The Funeral. 107 Mar. After what Manner ? Ph. He understood Arithmetic very well. Mar. And what of that ? Ph. What of that ? why, he would reckon 30000 Soldiers when there were but 7000, and a great many of those he never paid neither. Mar. A very compendious Way of accounting ! Ph. Then he would lengthen out the War, and raise Con- tributions monthly, both from Friends and Foes ; from his Enemies, that they might not be plunder'd ; and from his Friends, that they might have Commerce with the Enemy. Mar. I know the common Way of Soldiers ; but make an End of your Story. Ph. Bernardine and Vincent, with some Companions of their Order, staid with the sick Man, and the rest had their Provisions sent them. Mar. Well, and did they agree among themselves that staid upon Duty ? Ph. Not very well ; they continually grumbled something about the Prerogative of their Bulls ; but they were fain to dissemble the Matter, that they might go the better on with their Work : Now the Will is produced, and Covenants en- ter'd into before Witnesses, according to what they had agreed upon between themselves. Mar. I long to hear what that was. Ph. I'll tell you in brief, for the whole would be a long History. He leaves a Widow of thirty eight Years of Age, a discreet virtuous Woman ; and two Sons, the one of nineteen, and the other fifteen Years of Age ; and two Daughters, both under Age. He provided by this Testa- ment, that his Wife, seeing she would not be prevail'd upon to confine herself to a Cloister, should put on the Habit of a Beguin, which is a middle Order, between a Laick and a Religious : And the eldest Son, because he could not be prevail'd upon to turn Monk Mar. There's no catching old Birds with Chaff. Ph. That as soon as his Father's Funeral was over, he io8 Colloquies of Erasmus. should ride Post to Rome, and there being made a Priest before his Time, by the Pope's Dispensation, he should say Mass once a Day, for one whole Year, in the Latcran Church, for his Father's Soul ; and creep up the holy Steps there upon his Knees every Friday. Mar. And did he take this Task upon himself willingly ? Ph. To deal ingenuously with you, as willingly as an Ass takes his Burden. His younger Son was dedicated to St. Francis, his eldest Daughter to St. Clare, and the younger to Catherine Senensis. This was all that could be obtain'd ; for it was Georges Purpose, that he might lay the greater Obligation upon God, to dispose of the five Survivors into the five Orders of the Mendicants ; and it was very hard pressed too : But his Wife and his eldest Son could not be wrought upon by any Terms, either fair or foul. Mar. Why, this is a Kind of disinheriting. Ph. The whole Estate was so divided, that the Funeral Charges being first taken out, one Twelfth-Part of it was to go to his Wife ; one Half of that for her Maintenance, and the other Half to the Stock of the Place where she should dispose of herself ; upon Condition, that if she should alter her Mind, the whole should go to that Order. Another Twelfth was to go to the eldest Son, who was to have so much Money paid him down upon the Nail, as would bear the Charges of his Journey, purchase him a Dispensation, and maintain him at Rome ; provided always, that if he should at any Time change his Mind, and refuse to be ini- tiated into holy Orders, his Portion should be divided be- tween the Franciscans and Dominicans : And I fear that will be the End of it, for he had a strange Aversion to that Course of Life. Two Twelfth-Parts were to go to the Mo- nastery that should receive his younger Son, and two more to those that should entertain his Daughters ; but upon this Condition, that if they should refuse to profess themselves, the Money should go intire to the Cloister. And then Ber- nardine was to have one Twelfth, and Vincent another ; a Half Share to the Carthusians^ for the Communion of the The Funeral. 109 good Works of the whole Order. The remaining Twelfth and Moiety was to be distributed among such private Poor, as Bernardine and Vincent should think worthy of the Charity. Mar. It would have been more Lawyer-like to have said quos vel quas, instead of quos only. PJi. The Testament was read, and the Stipulation ran in these Words : George Balearicus, dost thou, being alive, and of sound and disposing Mind and Memory, approve of this Testament, which thou madest long since according to thy own Mind ? I approve it. Is this thy last and unchangeable Will? It is. Dost thou constitute me and this Batchelor Vincent the Executors of this thy last Will? I do so. And then he was commanded to subscribe it. Afar. How could he write when he was dying ? Ph. Why, Bernardine guided his Hand. Mar. What did he subscribe ? Ph. Whosoever shall attempt to violate this Testament, may he incur the Displeasure of St. Francis and St. Dominic. Mar. But were they not afraid to have an Action Testa- menti inofficiosi [of a forged Will] brought against them ? Ph. That Action does not take Place in Things dedicated to God ; nor will any Man willingly go to Law in a Suit with him. When this was over, the Wife and Children give the sick Man their right Hands, and swear to the Obser- vance of his Directions. After this they fell to treating of the Funeral Pomp, and there was a Squabble about that too : but it was carried at last that there should be nine out of every one of the five Orders, in Honour of the five Books of Moses, and the nine Choirs of Angels ; every Order to carry its proper Cross, and sing the Funeral Songs. To these, besides the Kindred, there should be thirty Torch- Bearers hired, and all in Mourning, in Memory of the thirty Pieces of Silver our Saviour was sold for ; and for Honour's Sake, twelve Mourners to accompany them, as a Number sacred to the Apostolical Order. That behind the Bier should follow George's Horse, all in Mourning, with his Head ty'd down to his Knees in such a Manner, that he might 1 10 Colloquies of Erasimis. seem to look upon the Ground for his Master. That the Pall should be hung about with Escutcheons ; and that the Body should be laid at the right Hand of the high Altar, in a marble Tomb, some four Foot from the Ground, and he himself lying in Effigy at Length on the top of it, cut in the purest Marble, all in Armour from Head to Foot. To his Helmet a Crest, which was the Neck of an Onocrotalus, and a Shield upon his left Arm, charged with three Boars Heads Or, in a Field Argent; his Sword by his Side, with a golden Hilt, and a Belt embroider'd with Gold and Pearl, and golden Spurs, he being a Knight of the Golden Order. That there should be a Leopard at his Feet, and an Inscrip- tion on his Tomb worthy of so great a Man. His Heart he would have to be buried separately in St. Francis his Chapel, and his Bowels he bequeathed to the Parish, to be honour- ably interr'd in our Lady's Chapel. Mar. This was a Noble Funeral, but a dear one. Now, a Cobler at Venice should have as much Honour done him, and with very little or no Charge at all ; the Company gives him a handsome Coffin, and they have many Times 600 Monks, all in their Habits, to attend one Corpse. Ph. I have seen it myself, and could not but laugh at the Vanity of those poor People. The Fullers and Tanners march in the Van, the Coblers bring up the Rear, and the Monks march in the Body ; you would have said it had been a Chimera, if you had seen it. And George had this Caution too, that the Franciscans and Dominicans should draw Lots which should go first at the Funeral, and after them the rest, that there might be no quarrelling for Place : the Par- son and Clerk went in the lowest Place (that is, first) for the Monks would not endure it otherwise. Mar. I find George had Skill in marshalling of a Cere- mony, as well as an Army. Ph. And it was provided, that the Funeral Service, which was to be perform'd by the Parish-Priest, should be per- formed with a Concert of Musick, for the greater Honour of the Deceased. While these and such like Things were doing The Funeral. 1 1 1 the Patient was seiz'd with a Convulsion, which was a cer- tain Token that he was near his End : so that they were now come to the last Act. Mar. Why, is not all done yet ? Ph. Now the Pope's Bull is to be read, wherein he is promised a full Pardon of all his Sins, and an Exemption from the Fear of Purgatory ; and with a Justification over and above of his whole Estate. Mar. What, of an Estate gotten by Rapine ? Ph. Gotten by the Law of Arms, and Fortune of War. But one Philip a Civilian, his Wife's Brother, happen'd to be by at the reading of the Bull, and took Notice of one Pas- sage that was not as it should be, and raised a Scruple upon it, of its not being authentick. Mar. It might very well have been let pass at this Time, and no Notice taken of it, if there had been any Error, and the Sick never the worse for it Ph. I am of your Mind, and I'll assure you it so wrought upon George, that it had like to have cast him into Despair : and in this Case Vincent shew'd himself a Man indeed ; he bid George be satisfied, for that he had an Authority to cor- rect or supply any Error or Omission that might be in the Bull : So that, says he, if this Bull should deceive you, this Soul of mine shall stand engaged for thine, that thine shall go to Heaven, or mine be damrid. Mar. But will God accept of this Way of changing Souls ? Or, if he does, is the Pawn of Vincent's, Soul a sufficient Security for George's ? What if Vincent's. Soul should go to the Devil, whether he changes it or no ? Ph. I only tell you Matter of Fact : It is certain that Vincent effected this by it, that the sick Man was much comforted. By-and-by the Covenants are read, by which the whole Society promise to transfer to George the Benefits of the Works which were done by all the four Orders, and also a Fifth, that of the Carthusians. Mar. I should be afraid that such a Weight would sink me to Hell, if I were to carry it. 1 1 2 Colloquies of Erasimis. Ph. I speak of their good Works only ; for they bear down a Soul that is about to fly to Heaven, no more than Feathers do a Bird. Mar. But who will they bequeath their evil Works to then ? Ph. To the German Soldiers of Fortune. Mar. By what Right ? Ph. By Gospel Right ; for, to him that has, shall be given. And then was read over how many. Masses and Psalms were to accompany the Soul of the Deceased, and there was a vast Number of them. After this, his Confession was re- peated, and they gave him their Benediction. Mar. And so he dy'd ? Ph. Not yet : They laid a Mat upon the Ground, roll'd up at one End in the Form of a Pillow. Mar. Well, and what's to be done now ? Ph. They strew'd Ashes upon it, but very thin, and there they laid the sick Man's Body ; and then they consecrated a Franciscan's, Coat with Prayers and Holy- Water, and that they laid over him, and a Cowl under his Head (for there was no putting it on then) and his Pardon and the Covenants with it. Mar. This is a new Way of dying. Ph. But they affirm that the Devil has no Power over those that die in this Manner ; for so they say St. Martin and St. Francis, and others died. Mar. But their holy Lives were correspondent to their Deaths. But prithee, what follow'd ? Ph. They then presented the sick Man with a Crucifix, and a Wax Candle : Upon the holding out the Crucifix, says the sick Man, / iised to be safe in War under the Pro- tection of my own Buckler ; but now I ivill oppose this Buck- ler to my Enemy : and having kiss'd it, laid it at his left Side. And as to the holy Taper ; / was, said he, ever held to be a good Pikeman in the Field; and now I will brandish this Lance against the Enemy of Souls. Mar. Spoken like a Man of War ! The Funeral. 1 1 3 Ph. These were the last Words he spake, for Death pre- sently seized his Tongue, and he breath'd his last. Bernar- dine kept close to him in his Extremity, on his right Hand, and Vincent on his left ; and they had both of them their Pipes open : One shew'd him the Image of St. Francis, the other that of St. Dominic ; while the rest up and down in the Chamber were mumbling over certain Psalms to a most melancholy Tune ; Bernardine bawling in his right Ear, and Vincent in his left. Mar. What was it they bawl'd ? Ph. Bernardine spake to this Purpose : George Balearicus, if thou approvest of all that is here done, lean thy Head to- ward thy right SJwulder. And so he did. Vincent on the the other Side said, George, fear not, you have St. Francis and St. Dominic for your Defenders, therefore be of good Courage : Think on what a great Number of Merits are be- stow d upon thee, of the Validity of thy Pardon ; and remem- ber, that I /tai'e engaged my Soul for tJiine, if there be any Danger. If you understand all this, and approve of it, 'lean your Head ufion your left Shoulder. And so he did. And then they cry'd out as loud as before, If thou art sensible of all this, squeeze my Hand ; then he squeez'd his Hand : so that, what with turning of his Head, and squeezing of the Hand, there were almost three Hours spent. And when George began to yawn, Bernardine stood up and pronounced the Absolution, but could not go thro' with it, before George's Soul was out of his Body. This was about Mid- night, and in the Morning they went about the Anatomy. Mar. And pray what did they find out of Order in the Body ? Ph. Well remember'd, for I had like to have forgot it. There was a piece of a Bullet that stuck to the Diaphragm. Mar. How came that ? Ph. His Wife said he had been wounded with a Musket- Shot ; and from thence the Physicians conjectured, that some Part of the melted Lead remained in his Body. By-and-by they put the mangled Corpse (after a Sort) into a Francis- VOL. II. H 1 14 Colloquies of Erasmus. can's Habit ; and after Dinner they buried him with Pomp, as it had been ordered. Mar. I never heard of more Bustle about a Man's dying, or of a more pompous Funeral ; but I suppose you would not have this Story made publick. Ph. Why not ? Mar. Lest you should provoke a Nest of Hornets. Ph. There is no Danger ; for if what I relate be done well, it is convenient the World should know it ; but if it be ill done, all good Men will thank me for discovering it ; and they themselves being seized with Shame for what they have done, will do so no more. Besides, it may possibly preserve the Simple from falling into the like Mistakes ; for some learned and pious Men have frequently complained to me, that the Superstition and Wickedness of some few, brings a Scandal upon the whole Order. Mar. This is well and bravely said. But I would fain know what became of Cornelius. Ph. Why truly, he died as he lived, without troubling any Body. He had an anniversary Fever, which took him every Year at such a certain Time ; but being now worse than or- dinary, either by Reason of Age (for he was above sixty Years old) or some other Cause, finding that his fatal Day was drawing on, he went to Church upon a Sunday, four Days before he died, confess'd to the Parish-Priest, heard divine Service and the Sermon, and having received the Sacrament went Home. Mar. Had he no Physicians ? Ph. Only one, who was as good in Morals as he was in his Profession ; his Name is James Castrutius. Mar. I know him, as honest a Man as any in the World. Ph. He told him, he should be. ready to serve him in any Thing he could as a Friend ; but that in his Opinion his Business lay rather with God than the Doctor. Cornelius received this Answer as chearfully, as if he had assured him of his Recovery. Wherefore, altho' he had been always very charitable according to his Power, yet he then bestow'd The Funeral. 1 1 5 upon the Needy all that he could possibly spare from the Necessities of his Wife and Children, not upon such as take a seeming Pride in a Sort of Poverty, that are every where to be met withal, but upon those good Men, that oppose a laborious Industry to an innocent Poverty. I desired him that he would betake himself to his Bed, and send for a Minister to him, rather than fatigue his weak Body. He reply 'd, that it had been always his Desire rather to make his Friends easy where he could, by doing good Offices, than to make himself troublesom to them by receiving ; and that he was now willing to die as he had liv'd. Nor would he take to his Bed till the very last Day, and Part of the last Night, of his Life. In the Interim he supported his weak Body with a Stick, or else sat in a Chair, but very rarely went into the naked Bed, but lay down in his Cloaths, his Head being raised. And in this Time he was either giv- ing Orders for the Relief of the Poor, especially those of his Acquaintance and Neighbours, or reading something of the Scriptures, proper to strengthen his Faith in God, or that shew his Love to Mankind. And when he was so tired that he could not read himself, he heard some Friend read to him ; and would very frequently, and with wonderful Affection, exhort his Family to mutual Love and Concord, and the Exercise of true Piety; comforting his Friends, who were sollicitous for his Death, with great Tenderness ; and gave it often in Charge to his Family, to take Care to see all his Debts paid. Mar. Had he not made a Will ? Ph. Yes, a long Time before ; he had taken Care to do that when he was in perfect Health ; for he was used to say, that what a Man did at his last Gasp was rather a Dotage than a Testament. Mar. Had he given any Thing to Monasteries, or poor People ? Ph. No, not a Cross ; I have, says he, already in my Life- Time, given according to my A bility, and now as I leave the Possession of what I have to my Family, I leave them the 1 1 6 Colloquies of Erasmus. disposing of it too, and I trust tJiat tJiey will employ it better tluin I Jiave done. Mar. Did he send for no holy Men, as George did ? Ph. Not a Man : There was no Body about him but his own Family and two intimate Friends. Mar. I admire what he meant by that Ph. He said, he was not willing to trouble more People when he went out of the World, than he did when he came into it. Mar. I want to hear this Story out. Ph. You shall hear it presently. Thursday came, and finding himself extremely weak, he kept his Bed. The Parish-Priest being then call'd, gave him the Extreme Unc- tion, and again the Sacrament ; but he made no Confession, for he said he had no Scruple upon his Mind. The Parson then began to talk to him about his Burial, with what Pomp, and in what Place he would be buried. Bury me, says he, as you would bury tJie meanest Christian ; nor do I concern myself wJiere you lay this worthless Body of mine, it will be found all one at tJie Day of Judgment wheresoever you lay it ; and as to t/ie Pomp of my Funeral, I matter it not. When he came to mention the ringing of Bells, and saying Masses, (tricenary and anniversary) Pardons and purchasing a Com- munion of Merits ; he reply'd, My good Pastor, I sJiall find myself never tJie worse if no Bell be rung at all ; if you will afford me but one funeral Office, it will abundantly content me ; but if tJiere be any Thing else, that tJiepublick Custom of tJie Church Jias made necessary, and tJiat can't well be omitted wit/wut Scandal to tJie Weak, I leave tJtat to your Pleasure. Nor am I at all desirous to buy any Man's Prayers or rob any Man of his Merits; tJiere is Merit enough in Christ, and to spare; and I trust tJiat I myself sJiall be tJie better for tJie Prayers and Merits of tJie whole Church, if I be but a living Member of it. My wJwle Hope is in these two Assurances ; tJie one is, tliat t/ie Lord Jesus, the chief Shep/ierd, Jtath taken all my Sins upon him, nailing tJtem to his Cross ; tJie otJier is, t/iat which Christ himself Jiath signed and sealed with his own Jioly Blood, The Funeral. 1 1 7 which gives its Assurance of eternal Salvation, if we place all our Trust in him. Far be it from me, to insist upon being furnished with Merits and Pardons, and provoke my God to enter into Judgment with his Servant, in whose Sight no Flesh living shall be justified ; because his Mercy is boundless and unspeakable, to it I appeal from his Justice. The Parson hear- ing this, went away ; and Cornelius with great Joy and Chearfulness (as one transported with the Hope of a better Life) caused some Texts to be read out of the holy Scrip- tures, that confirm the Hope of the Resurrection, and set before him the Rewards of Immortality ; as that out of Isaiah, concerning the Death of Hezekiah, together with the Hymn ; and then the fifteenth Chapter of the first Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians ; the Death of Lazarus out of John ; but especially the History of Christ's Passion, out of the Gospels. But O with what Affection did he take in all these Scriptures, sighing at some Passages, folding his Hands, as in Thankfulness, at others ; one While rapt and overjoy 'd at some Passages, and another While sending up short Ejaculations ! After Dinner, having taken a little Rest, he order'd the twelfth Chapter of St. John to be read, to the End of the- Story. Here you would have said the Man was transfigured and possessed with a new Spirit. When it grew toward Evening, he called for his Wife and Children, and raising himself as well as he could, he thus bespake them : My dear Wife, the same God that once joined us together, doth now part us, but only in our Bodies, and that too for a short Time. That Care, Kindness, and Piety, that thou hast hittierto used to divide betwixt me, and the tender Pledges of our mutual Love, do thou now transfer wholly to tJiem. Think thou canst do nothing more acceptable either to God or to me, than to educate, cherish, and instruct those whom God lias given us the Fruit of our conjugal Relation, that they may be found worthy of Christ. Double therefore thy Piety upon them, and account upon my SJtare too, as translated unto tltee. If thou shalt do this, as I trust thou wilt, tJtey will not be accounted Orphans ; and if ever thou shouldst marry 1 1 8 Colloquies of Erasmus. again At which Word his Wife burst out into Tears, and was about to forswear ever to think of marrying again ; but Cornelius interposed : My dearest Sister in Christ, if tlie Lord Jesus sJiall vouchsafe to tJtee Resolution and Strength of Spirit, be not wanting to tJie Jieavenly Gift, for it will be more commodious, as well for thyself as tJte Children, But if tJie Infirmity of the Flesh shall carry tJiee another Way, know tJiat my Death has indeed freed thee from the Bonds of Wed- lock, but not from that Obligation, which in both our Names thou owest in common to tJte Care of our Children. As to Marriage itself, make Use of tJie Freedom that God Jias given tJiee ; only let me intreat and admonish thee of this one thing, to make choice of a Husband of such a Disposition, and dis- cfiarge thyself so towards him, ttiathe, eitJier by his own Good- ness, or for thy good Carriage, may be kind to our Children. Tlierefore have a Care of tying thyself up by any Vow ; keep thyself free to God, and to our Children, and bring tJiem up in all Points religiously, and take Care that they dori t fix upon any Course of Life, till by Age and Experience tJiey shall come to understand w/tat is fittest for t/iem. Then turning to his Children, he exhorted them to the Study of Piety, Obe- dience to their Mother, and mutual Love and Concord among themselves. And having done, he kiss'd his Wife and them, pray'd for them, and making the Sign of the Cross, recommended them to the Mercy of Christ. And then looking round upon all about him, By to-Morrow Morn- ing, says he, tJie Lord who renewed this Morning to me, will graciously please, out of his infinite Mercy, to call this poor Soul of mine out of tJte Sepulchre of my Body, and out of tJie Darkness of this Mortality, into his heavenly Light. I will not have you fatigue yourselves in your tender Age with un- profitable Watching ; and as for the rest, let tJtem take tlieir Rest by turns ; one is enough to sit up with me, and read to me. Having pass'd the Night, about four o'Clock in the Morning, all the Family being present, he caused that Psalm to be read, which our Saviour praying recited upon the Cross. And when that was done, he call'd for a Taper and The Funeral. 119 a Cross, and taking the Taper in his Hand, he said, The Lord is my Light and Salvation, whom shall I fear ? And then kissing the Cross, he said The Lord is tlie Defender of my Life, of whom shall I be afraid? And by-and-by, laying his Hands upon his Breast in a praying Posture, with his Eyes lift up to Heaven, he said, Lord Jesus, receive my Spirit ; and immediately he closed his Eyes, as if he were only going to Sleep, and with a gentle Breathe, delivered up his Spirit. You would have thought he had only been in a Slumber, and had not expired. Mar. I never heard of a less painful Death in my Life. Ph. His Life was as calm as his Death. These two Men were both of them my Friends, and perhaps I am not so good a Judge which of them dy'd most like a Christian ; but you that are unbiassed, may perhaps make a better Judg- ment. Mar. I will think of it, and give you my Opinion some Time or other at Leisure. I2O ECHO. The ARGUMENT. A Discourse between a young Man and an Echo, con- cerning the Choice of Studies, and chusing the best way of Livelihood ; the Echo facetiously answer- ing the young Mans Interrogatories. NOTE. It appears by Erasmus'^ having so frequently made Use of Greek Words in the Echo'j Answer, that there is a considerable Difficulty in this Way of Writing ; nor will the English Tongue so well bear it as the Latin, in that it will not allow that Trans- position of Words that the Latin Tongue will. It being therefore very difficult, if not impossible, to make the two last Syllables an- swer by Way of Echo, I have contented myself with a bare Trans- lation without it. The YOUNG M A N and the E C H O. . I have a Mind to ask your advice about a few Things, if you are at Leisure. EC. I am at Leisure. Yo. And if I, a young Man, shall be welcome to you. EC. You shall be welcome. Yo. And can you tell me true concerning Things to come, Echo ? EC. I can. Yo. And do you understand Greek too ? What Novelty is this ? EC. I do. Yo. What Kind of Studies do you think those of the Muses to be ? The Echo. 1 2 1 EC. Divine ones. Yo. Do you think then, that those Authors that conduce to Learning ought to be studied ? EC. Do thou study them. Yo. What is then in their Minds, that speak contemptibly of these Studies ? EC. The Thoughts of a Swine. Yo. But I wish the Lovers of these were as studious of Piety. EC. I wish they were so. Yo. Now-a-Days the Wickedness of some makes all hated. EC. It does so. Yo. And many lay the Sins of Man on the Back of Learning. EC. Ay, Asses. Yo. Why, but they commonly seem not to be of the meanest Sort. EC. They are vile Persons. Yo. What do you think they do, who spend their Time in a sophistical Kind of Learning ? Perhaps they spin Cob- webs ? EC. They do so. Yo. And they weave and unweave Penelope's Web. EC. They do weave it. Yo. What Course of Life do you advise me to follow ? EC. A safe one. Yo. Will it prove fortunate if I shall marry ? EC. Do it late. Yo. But what if it shall happen to be my Lot to marry an unchast, or extravagant Wife ? EC. You must bear it. Yo. Why, but it is worse than Death itself to live with such. EC. It is so. Yo. Does Fortune so domineer in human Affairs ? EC. Yes, she only. Yo. Perhaps a Person had better enter himself into the Life of a Monk, than that of Marriage. 122 Colloquies of Erasmus. EC. That binds one. Yo. What Remedy is there left, when any one is bound by that Knot that cannot be unloosed ? EC. Melancholy. Yo. Well, but it is a miserable Life for Men to live alone. EC. It is entirely so. Yo. What Sort of Men do you account the Monks of these Times to be ? EC. A Trouble. Yo. What then makes some esteem them as half-Gods ? EC. Fear. Yo. What do most hunt after who sue for a Benefice ? EC. Idleness. Yo. Does a Priest get nothing else ? EC. Yes, Gain. Yo. What good Thing do they get that obtain Bishop- ricks ? EC. Labours. Yo. But none live more in Idleness. EC. I know it. Yo. What Things will be able to make them think and understand what a great Burden they have upon them ? EC. Understanding. Yo. Therefore the Priesthood is an excellent Thing, if a Man behave himself as he ought to do in it. EC. It makes him happy. Yo. What Advantage shall I have, if I go into their Court, who excel in princely Dignity ? EC. Misery. Yo. But I see a great many that are wont to promise themselves great Happiness from thence. EC. They are Blockheads. Yo. But in the mean Time, while they go clothed in their Silks, the common People look upon them as brave Fellows. EC. They are not worth a Fig. Yo. Why then, you speak of Men that are golden with- out, and wooden within, if any Body were but to inspect them narrowly ? The EcJio. 123 EC. Not so good. Yo. Why then, those Men have but little Excellency in them, that being array'd in Silks, we worship as Gods ? EC. Mischief. Yo. And perhaps, you will put no great Value upon mili- tary Men ? EC. A Farthing. Yo. But your Astrologers that tell Fortunes by the Stars, promise great Things. EC. They are Fables. Yo. But Grammarians take a great Deal of Pains. EC. To no Purpose. Yo. I believe hungry greedy Lawyers don't please you. EC. They are Wolves. Yo. What Sort of a Man shall I be, if I turn a Handicraft- Man ? EC. The Scum of the People. Yo. What then, do good nor bad Arts procure one no- thing else ? EC. A Maintenance. Yo. Shall I be happy, if I shall persevere in good Learn- ing ? EC. You shall. Yo. But what will make me pious ? EC. Age. Yo. I have spent my Time this ten Years in Cicero. EC. O you Ass ! Yo. How comes it into your Mind to call me an Ass ? EC. By the Thing itself. Yo. Perhaps, you mean that I should not so apply my- self to him, as to leave off others ? EC. I do say so. Yo. Why then, does not he please you, that fatigues him- self all his Days, only for this Purpose, that he may become a Ciceronian at last ? EC. He is a Madman. Yo. What is left for them to do that are old, whose Age is not seasonable for the learning these Things ? 124 Colloquies of Erasmus. EC. The Plough-Tail. Yo. I believe you would be more eloquent, if you were at a greater Distance. EC. I should be so. Yo. I don't like Words of two Syllables. EC. Go your Way. Yo. I began first, and I see I can't hinder your having the last Word. EC. Let me have it. Yo. Do you now think I am sufficiently instructed to per- form those Things well, which shall happen in Life ? EC. Yes. Yo. Well then, if you'd have me go away, bid me be gone* EC. Be gone. 125 nOAT AAITIA, or, The UNEQUAL FEAST. The ARGUMENT. The unequal Entertainment teaches Civility in enter- taining Guests. How the Table should be furnished, that all the Guests may be pleased, althd of different Palates, Manners, and Humours. That the placing of the Company may conduce much to the making the Entertainment chearful. That the ordinariest Dishes should make the first Course, and the most delicate the last. That Drink is to be given to none, but when they call for it. Variety of Stories, suited to the Fancy of each Person, cause Merriment. Old Men, Married Women, Sailors, and Merchants, de- light to hear Stories of their own Occupations and Actions. All melancholy Things, which may cause Sadness, ought to be avoided : And likewise, so must Drunkenness, which often occasions Fightings, Quar- rels, and Contentions. The Method of turning off the Discourse when Persons are angry, &c. No ones Grief ought to be called to Mind. Salutations are not to be often repeated. That every one should salute each other. That no Mention should be made of the Goodness, Management, or Price of the Pro- vision. A slender Provision is to be excused modestly. 126 Colloquies of Erasmus. SPUD^US, APITIUS. . Soho, Soho, Apitius. Ap. I don't hear ye. Sp. Soho, I say, Apitius. Ap. What troublesom Fellow is this ? Sp. I have a Matter of Consequence to tell you of. Ap. And I am going about a Matter of Consequence, and in great Haste too. Sp. Whither, prithee ? Ap. Why, to Supper. Sp. That was it I wanted to talk with you about. Ap. I have not Time now to meddle with Talkers or Doers, lest I lose my Labour. Sp. You shall lose no Time, I'll go along with you. Ap. Well, tell me what 'tis quickly. Sp. I am busy in contriving how to make a Feast, so as to please all, and displease none of my Guests ; and know- ing you to be the principal Artist in this Scheme, I apply myself to you as to an Oracle. Ap. Well, take this for an Answer, and, according to antient Usage, in Verse, If none you would displease, then none invite. Sp. But 'tis a publick Entertainment ; I am under a Ne- cessity of having a great many Guests. Ap. To be sure, the more you invite, the more you will displease : What Play was so well written, or so well acted, as to please the whole Theatre ? Sp. But come, Darling of the God of Banquets, assist me with your Advice in this Affair, and I will account you an Oracle for Time to come. Ap. Take this in the first Place ; Don't attempt to do that which is impossible to be done. Sp. What's that ? Ap. To be a Master of a Feast, and give Satisfaction to all your Guests, when there is a great Variety of Palates. Sp. Well then, that I may displease but a few ? The Unequal Feast. 127 Ap. Call but a few. Sp. But that can't be. Ap. Then invite those that are equals, and of agreeable Humours. Sp. I am not at Liberty to do that neither ; I can't avoid inviting a great many, and of different Humours : nor are they all of the same Speech or Nation. Ap. You talk of a Bedlam rather than a Banquet. Here will necessarily arise such Confusion, as the Hebrews relate to have happened at the Building of Babel, that when one asks for cold Water, the other will bring him hot. Sp. But prithee help me out at a dead Lift, you shall find I'll be both mindful of, and grateful for your good Office. Ap. Well, come then, seeing you are not at Liberty to pick and chuse your Guests, I'll give you Advice in this difficult Point. It signifies no small Matter, as to the Mirth of the Entertainment, what Places any of them sit in. Sp. That's very right Ap. But to take away all Occasion of Uneasiness, let them cast Lots for their Places. Sp. That's well advis'd. Ap. Let not your Dishes proceed gradually from the up- per to the lower End of the Table, so as to make the Letter , or rather in a serpentine Order, or to be chang'd recipro- cally hither and thither, as the Myrtle in old Times used to be handed about at Banquets. Sp. How then ? Ap. To every four Guests set four Dishes, so that the fourth may be the middlemost, as Boys upon three Nuts set a Fourth ; in every one of these let there be a different Sort of Victuals, that every one may help himself to what he likes. Sp. Well, I like that very well ; but how often must I change the Dishes ? Ap. How many Parts are there in a theatrical Oration ? Sp. Five, I think. Ap. How many Acts are there in a Play ? 1 28 Colloquies of Erasmus. Sp. I have read in Horace that they ought not to exceed five. Ap. Well then, so many different Courses you must have. Let the first Course be Soop, and the last a Desert of Sweet- meats. Sp. What Order of the Courses do you approve of ? Ap. The same that Pyrrhus did in his Army. Sp. What say you ? Ap. As in an Oration, so at a Feast, the Preface, or first Courses should not be very delicate; and again, the last Course should rather excel in Variety, than Daintiness. So Pyrrhus's Discipline consisted in three Particulars, that on each Side there should be something excellent, and in the Middle, that which was more ordinary. By this Method, it will be so ordered, that you will neither appear to be sparing, nor prodigal by Reason of a cloying Abundance. Sp. The Eating-Part is well enough contriv'd ; now tell me what is to be done as to drinking ? Ap. Don't you give the Cup to any Body ; leave that to your Servants, to ask every Body what Sort of Wine he likes, and to fill every one the Wine he drinks readily, at the very first Call or Nod. In this there will be a twofold Conveniency, they will drink both more sparingly and more merrily ; not only because every now and then there would otherwise be a different Sort of Wine given them, but also because no Body will drink but when he is dry. Sp. Upon my Word, this is very good Advice. But then how will they all be made merry ? Ap. That's partly in your Power. Sp. How is that ? Ap. You know the old Proverb, A Jiearty Welcome is the best C/teer. Sp. How is that ? Ap. Entertain them courteously, speak to them with a chearful Countenance, ordering your Speech according to each Person's Age and Humour. Sp. I'll come nearer to you, that I may hear the better. The Unequal Feast. 129 Ap. You understand Languages ? Sp. Yes, most Languages. Ap. You must ever and anon speak to every one in his own Tongue ; and that the Entertainment may be the more diverting by a Variety of Stories, intermix such Matters as every one will remember with Pleasure, and no Body will be uneasy to hear. Sp. What Sort of Matters mean you ? Ap. The peculiar Differences of Dispositions, which you yourself are better vers'd in ; I will only touch upon some Heads. Old Men take a Pleasure in relating those Things that are out of the Memory of many Persons, and are Ad- mirers of those Times, in which they were in their Prime. It's a pleasant Thing to a married Woman to have the Memory of that Time refreshed, when she was courted by her Sweethearts. Mariners that have been in divers and far distant Countries, take a Pleasure to tell of those Things that they have seen, and other People admire at ; and ac- cording to the Proverb, the Remembrance of Dangers, when they are over, is very pleasant, if they are such as have no- thing opprobious in them, as in the Army, in Travels, in the Dangers at Sea : And in the last Place, every one loves to talk of his own Calling, especially in that Part that he excels in. These are some general Heads ; as to par- ticular Affections it is not possible to describe them ; but for Example Sake, one is ambitious of Honour, another would be accounted learned, another loves to be taken for a rich Man ; one is full of Talk, another is sparing of his Speech ; some will be surly, others on the other Hand af- fable ; some don't care to be thought old when they are so, and some would fain be thought older than they are, affect- ing to be admir'd for carrying their Age well. Some Women please themselves mightily in being thought handsome, and some love to be flattered. These Dispositions being known, it will be no difficult Matter so to intermix Speeches, as to be pleasing to every one, and to avoid those Things that cause Uneasiness. VOL. ii. I 1 30 Colloquies of Erasmus. Sp. Upon my Troth, you are excellently skill'd in the Art of ordering an Entertainment. Ap. Phoo ! if I had spent as much Time, and taken as much Pains in the Study of the Law, Physick, or Divinity, as I have spent upon this Art, I had long before now com- menc'd Doctor of them all. Sp. I am of your Mind. Ap. But hark ye, that you may not mistake, you must be sure to take Care, that your Stories be not long-winded ones, and that they don't turn upon Drunkenness ; for as there is nothing better than Wine drank with Moderation, so, on the other hand, there is nothing worse, if you drink too much. It is the same in Stories. Sp. You say right. But what Remedy have you for this ? Ap. When you perceive any dispos'd to be quarrelsom, take an Opportunity to break off abruptly from what you were saying, and talk of something else. I take it to be un- necessary to caution you against bringing any one's Affliction to his Mind, during the Time of the Entertainment. Plato is of Opinion, that Banquets will cure some Distempers, the Wine driving away Sorrow, and making Persons forget what caused Uneasiness to them. But you ought to be caution'd of this, not to salute the Guests too often ; yet I would have you walk about sometimes, and speak kindly first to one, and then to another ; for a Master of a Feast ought to act a moveable Part in the Play. But then again, there is no- thing more uncivil than to be continually talking of the Sorts of Provision, the Manner of dressing it, and what it cost you. It is the same Thing as to the Wine. But you should rather modestly undervalue the Provision ; for if you undervalue it too much, it will be much the same as if you were ostentatious concerning it. It is sufficient to say twice, or at the most three Times, Muck Good may't do you ; and Tho 1 my Entertainment is but homely, your Welcome is fiearty. Sometimes you may break a Jest, but such a one that has no Teeth. It will also be proper to bespeak every one, now and then, in his own Tongue, but in a few Words. The Unequal Feast. 131 But it now comes into my Mind, to speak what I should have said at the beginning. Sp. What is it ? Ap. If you han't a Mind to place the Guests by Lot, take Care to chuse three out of the Company, that are of a di- verting Humour, and apt to talk, place one at the upper End of the Table, another at the lower End, and a third in the Middle, that they may keep the rest from being either silent or melancholy. And if you perceive the Company grow either mute or noisy, and inclinable to fall out. Sp. This is very common with our Countrymen ; but what must be done then ? Ap. Then take the Course that I have frequently ex- perienc'd to succeed. Sp. I want to hear it. Ap. Bring in a Couple of Buffoons or Jesters, who by their Gestures may express some Argument without speak- ing a Word. Sp. But why without speaking ? Ap. That the Guests may be all equally diverted ; or, if they do speak, let them speak in a Language that none of them understands. By speaking by Gestures they will all understand alike. Sp. I can't very well tell what you mean by an Argument. Ap. There are a Thousand ; as suppose, a Wife fighting with the Husband for the Breeches, or any other such comi- cal Transaction in low Life. And, as to Dancing, the more ridiculous it is, the more diverting it will be. These ought not to be above half Fools ; for, if they be downright Ideots, they will, before they are aware, foolishly blab out what may give Offence. Sp. As you have given me good Advice, so I wish that the Deity Comus may always befriend ye. Ap. I will conclude with this, or rather repeat what I said at first ; Don't be too thoughtful to please every Body, not only in this Affair, but in any other Circumstance of Life and that will be the Way to please them the sooner ; for it is a good Maxim in Life, Too much of one Thing is good for nothing. Of THINGS and WORDS. The ARGUMENT. This Colloquy concerning Things and Words, exposes tJte preposterous Judgments of some People, who are more ambitious of Names, than they are of the Things themselves ; to be esteemed, than to deserve Esteem. In aiming at Things, it is better to be and to have ; in avoiding Things, it is better to be thought to have them and be without them. It is the worst of Frauds to cheat a Friend. BEATUS^;^ BONIFACE. - God bless you, Boniface. Bo. And God bless you heartily, Beatus. But I wish we were both of us answerable to our Names, you rich, and I handsom. Be. Why then, do you account it so small a Matter to have a great Name ? Bo. Indeed I make very small Account of the Name, un- less there be the Thing too. Be. But most Men are of another Mind. Bo. Perhaps they may be Mortals, but I don't take 'em to be Men. Be. Nay, good Man, they are Men, unless you think there are now-a-Days Camels and Asses in the Shape of Men. Bo. I should sooner be of that Mind, than believe that they can be Men, who had rather have the Name than the Thing itself. Of Tilings and Words. 133 Be. In some Sort of Things, I confess, that many had rather have the Thing, than the Name ; but in many Things it is quite the contrary. Bo. I don't very well take you in. Be. We have an Example of it in ourselves, you are call'd Boniface, and you have what you are call'd ; but if you were to be depriv'd of either of them, had you rather have an ugly Face, or be call'd Cornelius ? Bo. Why, indeed, I had rather be call'd Thersites, than have a Face as ugly as the Devil ; whether I have a hand- som one now or not, I can't tell. Be. Then again, if I was rich, or must either part with my Wealth or my Name, I had rather be call'd Irus than be depriv'd of my Estate. I grant what you say to be true ; and I am of Opinion it is the common Temper of those that enjoy Health, and other corporal Enjoyments. Bo. It is probable. Be. But how many may we see that had rather have the Name of being learned and pious, than to be learned and pious Bo. I know a great many of this Sort of People. Be. Well then, is not the Name more esteem'd among us than the Thing itself ? Bo. So it seems to be. Be. Now if we had a good Logician, who could properly define what a King, a Bishop, a Magistrate, and a Philo- sopher was, it is very likely we should find some among them, who are more for the Name than the Thing itself. Bo. He is really a King who aims at the Good of his People, and not his own ; governing them by Law and Justice : And he a Bishop, who watches carefully over the Lord's Flock : And he is a Magistrate, who sincerely studies the good of the Publick. And a Philosopher is one, who neglecting the Goods of Fortune, studies only to get the Endowments of the Mind. Be. By these you may see how many Examples of this Kind I could produce. 134 Colloquies of Erasmus. Bo. Why truly, a great many. Be. Will you deny all these to be Men ? Bo. I am afraid we shall sooner lose the Name of Men ourselves. Be. But if Man is a rational Animal, how contrary is it to Reason, that in the Conveniencies, rather than the real Goods of the Body, and in external Things, which Fortune gives and takes away at her Pleasure ; we had rather have the Thing itself than the Name ; and in the real Goods of the Mind, we put more Value upon the Name, than the Thing itself. Bo. It is an absurd Way of judging, if a Man did but con- sider it seriously. Be. And the Reason is quite the same in those Things, that are on the contrary Side. Bo. I expect what you're going to say. Be. We may pass the same Judgment as to the Names of those Things that are to be avoided, as has been given as to those that are to be desired. Bo. That's plain. Be. For to be a Tyrant is more to be abhorr'd, than to have the Name ; and if a Bishop be a bad Man, the Scrip- ture calls him a Thief, and a Robber : These Names are not to be detested by us, so much as the Things themselves. Bo. In Truth I am of your Mind. Be. Do you infer the same as to the rest ? Bo. I understand you perfectly well. Be. Don't all Fools hate to be call'd Fools ? Bo. Yes indeed, and more than other Folks. Be. Would not he be a Fool that should fish with a golden Hook, and prefer Glass before Jewels ? that should put more Value upon his Horses, than his Wife and Children ? Bo. He would be a greater Fool than Ben of the Minories. Be. Are not they such Fools that list themselves for Sol- diers, and for the Sake of a poor Pay expose Body and Soul to Danger ? who make it their Study to scrape up Riches, when their Minds are destitute of all good Science ? who Of Things and Words. 135 make their Cloaths and Houses fine, but let their Minds lie neglected and slovenly ? who are very careful to preserve their Bodies in Health, and take no Care of their Minds, that are sick of mortal Diseases ? and in the last Place, who for the Sake of enjoying the fleeting Pleasures of this Life, deserve eternal Torments ? Bo. Reason itself obliges a Man to confess, that they are worse than Fools. Be. But tho' every Place is full of such Fools as these, you can scarce find one that can bear to be call'd a Fool, tho' they have no Aversion to being Fools. Bo. It is really so. Be. Come on, you know every Body hates to be call'd a Lyar or a Thief. Bo. They are very hateful Names, and not without Reason. Be. But for all that, tho' to debauch another Man's Wife is a greater Sin than Theft, some glory in the Name of Adulterers ; and if you were to call them Thieves, they would draw their Swords upon you. Bo. This is a common Thing with a great many. Be. And again, tho' many give themselves up to Whoring, and Drinking, and do it publickly ; yet if you should call them Whoremasters, they would be highly offended at it. Bo. These glory in the Thing, and hate the Name that belongs to it. Be. There is scarce any Name that sounds harsher in our Ears, than the Name of a Lyar. Bo. I know some that would run a Man thro', that should affront them by giving them the Lye. Be. But I wish they did as much abhor the Practice. Have you never had it happen to you, that he that promis'd to pay you what you lent him, upon a certain Day, fail'd you ? Bo. Ay, very often ; and tho' he had sworn to it too, and not only once, but over and over. Be. But it may be they were not able to pay. Bo. Nay, they were able enough, but they thought it more to their Advantage to let it alone. 136 Colloquies of Erasmus. Be. And is not this Lying ? Bo. Ay, downright. Be. And did you dare to say to this Debtor, Why have you told me so many Lyes ? Bo. No, not except I had a Mind to fight him too. Be. Well, and in like Manner do not Masons, Smiths, Goldsmiths, and Taylors promise Things upon a certain Day ; and don't perform it, altho' it is of great Concern to you ? Bo. Ay, and are not at all asham'd of it : And you may add to these, such Persons as promise to do you a Kindness. Be. Ay, you might give a thousand Instances more, not one of which would bear to have the Lye given them. Bo. The World abounds with these Lyes. Be. So in like Manner no Body will bear to be call'd Thief, when at the same Time, they have not the same Ab- horrence of stealing. Bo. I would have you tell me plainly. Be. What Difference is there between him that steals a Thing out of your Escritoire, and him that forswears what you have deposited with him ? Bo. No Difference but this, that he's the more wicked Man that robs him who reposes a Confidence in him. Be. But how few are there that do restore that which has been put into their Hands ? or, if they do, restore the whole. Bo. I believe but very few. Be. But yet not one of them will bear to be call'd a Thief, tho' he has no Aversion to the Thing itself. Bo. This is very common. Be. Now do but reckon up with me, what is commonly done in the Management of the Estates of Orphans, as to Wills and Legacies ; how much sticks to the Fingers of the Managers ? Bo. Very often the whole. Be. They love Thieving, but hate the Name of it. Bo. 'Tis true. Be. What do Collectors and Coiners of publick Money Of Things and Words. 1 3 7 do, who either coin it with too great an Allay, or too light ? Or they who raise and fall the Exchange of Money for pri- vate Ends ? Tho' we don't very well understand the Reason of it, yet we may speak of what we experience daily. He that borrows, or runs in Debt with Design never to pay, altho' he be able, differs very little from a Thief. Bo. He may probably be said to be more wary, but not more honest. Be. But notwithstanding there is so great a Number, yet none of them can endure the Name of a Thief. Bo. God alone knows the Heart ; and for that Reason, among Men, those that run themselves over Head and Ears in Debt, are not call'd Thieves. Be. What signifies what Men call them, if God accounts them Thieves ? Surely every one knows his own Mind. And besides, he that owes a great Deal of Money, and yet dishonestly lavishes away what Money he gets ; and after he has broke, and cheated his Creditors in one City, runs into another, hunting about for People to cheat ; the oftner he does so, does not he declare the more plainly what he is at Heart ? Bo. Ay, too plainly ; but they oftentimes gloss over the Matter. Be. How? Bo. They pretend that this is a common Practice with great Men, and Kings, to owe a great Deal of Money, and to a great many Persons ; and therefore they that are of this Disposition more resemble great Men. Be. What Use would they make of that ? Bo. It is admirable, what great Liberty they would have allow'd to Knights. Be. But by what Right, or by what Law ? Bo. Just the same that the Lord of the Manor shall claim to himself, whatsoever is cast a-Shore from a Shipwreck, altho' there be a right Owner of it ; or by which other Per- sons would keep to their own Use, what they take from a Highway-Man after he has been apprehended. 138 Colloquies of Erasmus. Be. Robbers themselves might make such Laws. Bo. Ay, and they would too, if they knew how to main- tain them ; and they would have enough to plead in excuse of them, if they did but denounce War before they com- mitted the Robbery. Be. Who gave Knights this Privilege above the Commons? Bo. The Law of Arms ; for thus they are train'd up for War, that they may be more expert at plundering the Enemy. Be. I believe it was after this Manner that Pyrrhus train'd his Soldiers up to War. Bo. No, but the Lacedemonians did. Be. A Mischief take them, and their whole Army too. But how came this Title to have so great a Prerogative ? Bo. Some have it by Descent, some purchase it with Money, and some take it to themselves. Be. And may any Body have it that will ? Bo. Yes, he may, if his Manners but be answerable to theirs. Be. What are they ? Bo. Never to be guilty of doing a good Action, to go fine, wear a Diamond Ring, whore stoutly, game continually, spend his Life in Drinking and Diversion, speak of nothing that's Mean, be continually cracking of Castles, Duels, Bat- tles, and every Thing that looks great : They take the Li- berty of quarrelling with whom they have a Mind, altho' they han't a Foot of Land of their own to set their Feet upon. Be. Such Knights as these deserve to be mounted upon the Wooden Horse : But there are a great many such Knights in Gelderland. 139 CHARON. The ARGUMENT. Charon detests Christians fighting one with another. An evil Genius brings News to Charon, that all the Earth was up in Arms for War : Ossa, the Goddess Fame in Homer, ttie Monks and Jesuits, are the Incendiaries. CHARON, Genius ALASTOR. r*H- Whither are you going so brisk, and in such Haste, A las torf A I. O Charon, you come in the Nick of Time, I was coming to you. Ch. Well, what News do you bring ? A I. I bring a Message to you and Proserpine, that you will be glad to hear. Ch. Out with what you have brought, and lighten your Burden. AL The Furies have been no less diligent than they have been successful, in gaining their Point : there is not a Foot of Ground upon Earth, that they have not infected with their hellish Calamities, Seditions, Wars, Robberies, and Plagues ; so that they are grown quite bald, having shed their Snakes, and having quite spit all their Venom, they ramble about in search after whatever they can find of Vi- pers and Asps ; being become as smooth as an Egg, not having so much as a single Hair upon their Heads, and not one Drop of Venom more in their Breasts. Do you get your Boat and your Oars ready ; you will have such a vast Multitude of Ghosts come to you anon, that I'm afraid you won't be able to carry them all over yourself. 140 Colloquies of Erasmus. Ch. I could have told you that. A I. How came you to know it ? Ch. Ossa brought me that News above two Days ago. Al. Nothing is more swift than that Goddess. But what makes you loitering here, having left your Boat ? Ch. My Business brought me hither ; I came hither to provide myself with a good strong Three-Oar'd Boat : for my Boat is so rotten and leaky with Age, that it will not carry such a Burden, if Ossa told me true. But, indeed, what Need was there of Ossa ? for the Thing shews itself, for I have suffered Shipwreck already. Al. Indeed you are dropping dry, I fancied you were just come out of a Bath. Ch. No, I swam out of the Stygian Lake. Al. Where did you leave the Ghosts ? Ch. They are swimming among the Frogs. Al. But what was it that Ossa told you ? Ch. That the three Monarchs of the World were bent upon one another's Destruction with a mortal Hatred, and that there was no Part of Christendom free from the Rage of War ; for these three have drawn all the rest in to be en- gag'd in the War with them. They are all so haughty, that not one of them will in the least submit to the other : Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks at Quiet, but are preparing to make dreadful Havock. The Plague rages every where, in Spain, Britain, Italy, and France; and more than all, there is a new Fire sprung out of the Variety of Opinions, which has so corrupted the Minds of all Men, that there is no such Thing as sincere Friendship any where ; But Brother is at Enmity with Brother, and Husband and Wife cannot agree. And it is to be hop'd, that this Distraction will be a glorious Destruction of Mankind, if these Controversies, that are now managed by the Tongue and the Pen, come once to be decided by Arms. Al. All that Fame has told you is very true ; for I my- self, having been a constant Companion of the Furies, have with these Eyes seen more than all this, and that they never Charon. 141 at any Time have approv'd themseves more worthy of their Name, than now. Ch. But there is Danger, lest some Good Spirit should start up, and of a sudden exhort them to Peace : And Men's Minds are variable, for I have heard, that among the Living there is one Polygraphus y who is continually, by his Writing, inveighing against Wars, and exhorting to Peace. Al. Ay, ay, but he has a long Time been talking to the Deaf. He once wrote a Sort of Hue and Cry after Peace, that was banish'd or driven away ; and after that, an Epitaph upon Peace defunct. But then, on the other Hand, there are others that advance our Cause no less than the Furies do themselves. Ch. Who are they ? A I. They are a certain Sort of Animals in black and white Vestments, Ash-colour'd Coats, and various other Dresses, that are always hovering about the Courts of Princes, and are continually instilling into their Ears the Love of War, and exhorting the Nobility and common People to it, haran- guing them in their Sermons, that it is a just, holy and re- ligious War. And that which would make you stand in admiration at the Confidence of these Men, is the Cry of both Parties. In France they preach it up, that God is on the French Side, and they can never be overcome, that have God for their Protector. In England and Spain the Cry is, the War is not the King's, but God's ; therefore, if they do but fight like Men, they depend upon getting the Victory ; and if any one should chance to fall in the Battle, he will not die, but fly directly up into Heaven, Arms and all. Ch. And is Credit given to all this ? Al. What can't a well-dissembled Religion do ? when to this there is added Youth, Unexperiencedness, Ambition, a natural Animosity, and a Mind propense to any Thing that offers itself. It is an easy Matter to impose upon such ; it is an easy Matter to overthrow a Waggon, that was inclining to fall before. Ch. I would do these Animals a good Turn with all my Heart 142 Colloquies of Erasmus. A I. Prepare a good Treat ; you can do nothing that will be more acceptable to them. Ch. What, of Mallows, and Lupines, and Leeks ? for you know we have no other Provision in our Territories. AL No, but of Partridges, and Capons, and Pheasants, if you would have them look upon you as a good Caterer. Ck. But what is it that moves these People to be so hot for War ? What will they get by it ? Al. Because they get more by those that die, than those that live. There are last Wills and Testaments, Funeral Obsequies, Bulls, and a great many other Articles of no des- picable Profit. And in the last Place, they had rather live in a Camp, than in their Cells. War breeds a great many Bishops, who were not thought good for any Thing in a Time of Peace. Ch. Well, they understand their Business. Al. But what Occasion have you for a new Boat ? Ch. None at all, if I had a Mind to be wreck'd again in the Stygian Lake. Al. How came that about ? because you had too large a Company ? Ch. Yes. Al. But you carry Shadows, not Bodies. Ch. Let them be Water- Spiders, yet there may be enough of them to over-load a Boat ; and then you know my Boat is but a shadowy Boat neither. Al. But I remember once upon a Time, when you had a great Company, so many that your Boat would not hold them, I have seen three thousand hanging upon your Stem, and you were not sensible of any Weight at all. Ch. I confess there are such Sorts of Ghosts ; those are such as pass slowly out of the Body, being reduced to little or nothing with Consumptions, and Hectick-Fevers. But as for those that are torn of a sudden out of gross Bodies, they bring a great Deal of corpulent Substance along with them ; such as are sent hither by Apoplexies, Quinseys, Pestilences, and especially by War. Charon. 143 A I. I don't think the French or Spaniards bring much Weight along with them. Ch. Much less than the rest ; but for all that, their Ghosts are not altogether so light as Feathers neither. But as for the Englishmen and Germans that feed well, they come some- times in such Case, that I was lately in Danger of going to the Bottom in carrying only ten ; and unless I had thrown some of my Lading over-Board, I had been lost, Boat, Passengers, and Boat-Hire, all together. A I. You were in great Danger then indeed. Ch. But what do you think I must do, when so many fat Lords, Hectors, and Bullies, shall come to us ? Al. As for those that die in a just War, I suppose none of them will come to you ; for they say, they fly bolt up- right into Heaven. Ch. I can't tell where they fly to ; but this I am sure of, as often as there is a War, there come so many Wounded and Cripples to me, that I admire that there should be one Soul left above Ground ; and they come over-charg'd, not only with Surfeits and Paunch-Bellies, but with Bulls, Bene- fices, and a great many other Things. Al. But they don't bring these Things along with them, but come naked to you. Ch. True; but at their first coming, they bring the Dreams of all these Things along with them. A I. Are Dreams so heavy then ? Ch. They load my Boat ; load it, did I say ? nay, they have sunk it before now. And, in the last Place, do you think so many Halfpence don't weigh any Thing ? A I. Yes, I believe they do, if they bring Brass ones. Ch. Therefore I am resolv'd to look out for a Vessel, that shall be fit for my Cargo. A I. You're a happy Fellow. Ch. Wherein ? Al. Because you'll get an Estate in a Trice. Ch. What, out of a Multitude of Ghosts ? Al. Yes, indeed. 1 44 Colloquies of Erasmus. Ch. Ay, if they did but bring their Wealth along with them. But now they sit in my Boat, bewailing themselves for the Kingdoms, and Dignities, and Abbacies, and the in- numerable Talents of Gold they have left behind them, and bring me nothing but a poor Halfpenny : So that all I have been scraping together for these three thousand Years, will go for the Purchase of a new Boat. A I. They that expect Gain, must be at some Charge. Ch. But the People in the World have better Trading, I hear ; for, if Fortune favour them, they can get an Estate in three Years Time. Al. Ay, and sometimes turn Bankrupts too ; tho' your Gain is less, it is more certain. Ch. I can't tell how certain it is, if any Deity should start up, and make Peace among the Princes, all this goodly Ex- pectation of mine is knock'd on the Head at once. AL As to that Matter, I'll take upon me to be your Se- curity, so that you may set your Heart at Rest. You have no Reason to fear a Peace for these ten Years : The Pope is the only Man that persuades them to come to an Agree- ment among themselves ; but he had as good keep his Breath to cool his Porridge. The Cities murmur at the Load of Calamities they lie under ; and some there are, I can't tell who, that whisper it about, that it is an unreason- able Thing, that the whole World should be turned upside down, for the private Piques and Ambition of two or three Persons. But for all this, take my Word for it, the Furies will get the better of it, let these Attempts be as promising as they will. But what Occasion had you to come into this World to get a Boat ? han't we Workmen enough among ourselves ? We have Vulcan, have we not ? Ch. Ay, right, if I wanted a Boat of Brass. Al. Or, you may send for a Workman fora small Matter. Ch. I might do that, but I want Materials. Al. What say you ? Are there no Woods in this Country ? Ch. All the Woods in the Elysian Fields are destroy'd. Al. In doing what ? Charon. 145 Ch. In burning Hereticks Ghosts, so that of late, for Fuel we have been forc'd to dig for Coals in the Bowels of the Earth. A I. What, could not Ghosts be punish'd at a less Charge than that ? Ch. RJiadamanthus (the Judge) would have it so. Al. If it be so, when you have got a Boat, where will you get Oars ? Ch. It is my Business to steer, let the Ghosts row them- selves, if they have a Mind to get over. Al. But some of them never learned to row. Ch. I have no Respect for Persons, Kings and Cardinals row with me ; every one takes his Turn, as much as the poorest Peasant, whether they have learned to row or not. Al. Well, do you see and get a Boat as cheap as you can, I won't detain you any longer, I'll away to Hell with my good News : But, soho, soho, Charon. Ch. What's the Matter ? Al. Make Haste, and get back as soon as you can, lest you be smothered in the Crowd. Ch. Nay, you'll find at least Two hundred thousand upon the Bank already, besides those that are paddling in the Lake. I'll make what Haste I can ; and do you tell them I shall be there presently. VOL. II. 146 The ASSEMBLY of GRAMMARIANS. The ARGUMENT. In this Colloquy a certain Carthusian is ridicuVd, a mighty Pretender to the Greek Tongue, and a very learned Man in his own Opinion, who gave his Book a Greek Title, calling those Anticomaritas, which he should rather have call'd Antimarians, or Antidico- marians. The whole Club of Grammarians dispute about this Word, and trump up a great many Ety- mologies of it. At last they come to this Resolution, to call tJie Author of that Word, Archimorita. ALBINUS, BERTULPHUS, CANTHELUS, DIPHILUS, EUMENIUS, FABULLUS, GADITANUS. A L. Is there any Body here that understands Arithme- tick ? Ber. For what ? Al. To cast up exactly how many Grammarians there are of us. Ber. That may be done without a Counting-Table, we may count upon our Fingers ; I count you upon my Thumb, my- self upon my fore Finger, Cantlielus upon my middle Finger, Diphilus, upon my Ring-Finger, and Eumenius upon my little Finger : and now I go to my left Hand ; there I count Fabullus upon my Thumb, and Gaditanus on my fore Finger ; so that, unless I am out in my Account, we are seven of us. But to what Purpose is it for us to know that ? Al. Because, as I have heard, the Number Seven makes up a compleat Council The Assembly of Grammarians. 147 Ber. What makes you talk of a Council ? Al. There is a Matter of Moment that has puzzled me a long Time, and not me alone, but a great many other Men of no mean Learning ; I will propose it, that the Question may be decided by the Authority of this Assembly. Can. Sure it must be some knotty Subject, that you can't decide it yourself, Albinus ; or that it should puzzle you, that are of so penetrating a Judgment. Therefore we de- sire to know what this difficult Matter is. I speak in the Name of all the rest. Al. Well then, do you all be very attentive, applying both your Ears, and your Minds ; Two Heads are better than one. Is there any one of you all that can explain what is the Meaning of this Word Anticomarita ? Ber. That's the easiest Thing in the World, for it signfies a Kind of a Beet, which the Antients call'd a Water-Beet, having a knotty wreathed Stalk, very insipid, but of a very stinking Smell, if you touch it ; so that it may vie with the Bean-Cod Tree. Can. A Natatile Beet, do you say ? Nay, rather a Cacatile Beast. Who ever heard of, or ever read the Name of a swimming Beet ? Ber. Yes, Mammotrectus (as he is corruptly call'd) which should be pronounc'd Mammothreptos, as tho' you should say his Grandmother's Darling, has made this as plain as the Nose in a Man's Face. Al. What Sort of a Title is that ? Ber. This is to give you to understand, that there is no- thing in the Book but darling Things, because Mamma's, i.e. Grandmothers, are wont to be more fond of their Grand- Children, than their Mothers themselves are of their own Children. Al. You talk of a darling Work indeed. I happen'd lately to dip into this Book, I e'en burst my Sides with laughing. Can. Where did you get that Book ? it is very scarce. Ber. Being at Dinner at Bruges, Livinus, the Abbot of 148 Colloquies of Erasmus. Bavo, carried me into his private Library, which the old Gentleman had furnish'd with scarce Books at a vast Ex- pence, being desirous to leave some Monument of himself to Posterity. There was not a Book, but what was a Manu- script, and upon Vellum too, and illuminated with various Pictures, and bound in Velvet, and emboss'd with Gold. And besides, there being a vast Number of them, they made a very stately Shew. AL What Books were they ? Ber. They were all excellent Books ; there was the Catho- licon, Brachylogus, and Ovid expounded allegorically, and Abundance of others ; and among them I found this facetious Book Mammothreptos: And among the rest of the Curiosities I found also this Natatile Beet. AL Why do they call it natatile ? Ber. I'll relate to you what I read ; as for the Truth of it, let the Author be answerable for that. Forasmuch, says he, as it grows in wet, stinking Places, and thrives no where so well as in Mud, or a Dunghill, saving your Reverence, Sir AL Therefore it stinks, does it ? Ber. Ay, worse than a Turd. AL Is this Herb good for any Thing ? Ber. Yes, it is accounted a great Delicacy. AL Perhaps by Swine, or Asses, or Cyprian Cows. Ber. Nay, by Men themselves, and very fine-mouth'd ones too. There is a People call'd the Peligni, who make their Dinners of an extraordinary Length ; and the parting Glass they call a Resumpta in their Language, as we call it a Dessert or Kickshaws. AL Fine Desserts indeed ! Ber. The Law of the Entertainment is, that the Enter- tainer shall have the Liberty of having what he will brought to the Table ; and it is not allowed that the Guests should refuse any Thing, but must take all well. AL What if he should have Henbane, or twice-boiled Coleworts set before them ? The Assembly of Grammarians. 149 Ber. Let it be what it will, they must eat it, and not speak a Word against it But when they come Home, they are at Liberty to vomit it up again, if they please. And in their Entertainments, one Dish is commonly this Water-Beet or Anticomarita, for it matters not which Name you call it by, the Thing is the same. They mix a great Deal of Oak- Bark, and a good Quantity of Garlick with it. And this is the Composition of the Tansey. Al. Who made this barbarous Law? Ber. Custom, the most mighty of Tyrants. Al. You tell me a Story of a tragical Conclusion, which has such a nauseous Ending. Ber. I have given my Solution of the Question, not im- posing it upon any Body, nor to prevent any Body, who has a Mind to offer theirs. Can. I have found out that the Antients had a Fish that they call'd Anticomarita. Ber. What Author is that in ? Can. I can produce the Book, but I can't tell the Author's Name ; it is written in French Words, but in the Hebrew Character. Ber. What's the Shape of this Fish call'd Anticomarita^. Can. The Belly is white, but all over every where else it has black Scales. Ber. I fancy you have a Mind, of this Fish to make a Cynic with a Cloak ; what Taste has it ? Can. It has the nastiest Taste in the World ; and besides that, it is infectious too. It breeds in old Lakes, and some- times in Houses of Office. It is a good-for-nothing muddy Fish ; if you put but a Bit of it into your Mouth, it causes a certain tough Phlegm, that you can hardly bring up by taking a Vomit. It is very common in the Country call'd Celtithrace ; they esteem it as a Delicacy, and at the same Time account it a more detestable Crime than Murder, to taste a Bit of Flesh. A I. A. very wretched Country with their Anticomarita ! Can. This is what I have to say ; but I would not have any Body to be determined by my Opinion. 150 Colloquies of Erasmus. Di. What Occasion have we to fetch the Explanation of this Word from Mammothreptos's or Hebrew Writings, when the very Etymology of the Word shews plainly, that Anti- comarita signifies Damsels unhappily married, that is to say, to old Husbands ? And it is no new Thing for Writers to write co instead of quo ; c, q, and k are cognate Letters. Eu. What Diphilus has mention'd carries something of Weight with it, if we were sure the Word was a Latin one. I take it to be a Greek Word, and a Compound of these three, avri, which signifies against ; fcw^r), which signifies a Town ; and oapl^eiv, which signifies to tattle like a Woman : and so by striking out o by the Figure Synalcepha it is An- ticomarita, one who by clownish prating makes every Body deaf. Fa. My Eumenius has made it out very elaborately ; but in my Opinion the Word is composed of as many Words as it has Syllables ; for av stands for avovs, rt for rfaXow, KCO for KcaBui, fia for fjui\a, and pv for pinrapa, (for it is an Error to write it with an i) and ra for raXa? ; and out of these is formed this Sentence, A mad uuretcJied Person pulling the Hairs out of a rotten Hide. Al. Indeed such Food as a Water-Beet as Bertulphus was speaking of just now was very fit for such a Workman. Ber. That is as much as to say an Anticomarita for an A nticomarita. Ga. You have all spoken very learnedly to the Matter ; but I am of Opinion that a disobedient Wife is call'd Anti- comarita by the Figure Syncope, for Antidicomarita, because she always crosses her Husband. Al. If we allow of such Tropes, we might of a Turd make a Bird, and of a Cook a Cuckoe. Ber. But Albinus, who is the Chief of this Assembly, has not given his Opinion yet. A I. I have, indeed, nothing of my own to offer ; but, how- ever, I shall not think much to acquaint you with what I lately learn'd from my Landlord, who was a very talkative Man ; he used to change his Discourse oftner than a Night- The Assembly of Grammarians. 151 ingale does her Note. He asserted it was a C/ialdee Word, compounded of three Words : that among the Chaldeans, anti signified cross-grain'd, or Brain-sick ; and comar, a Rock ; and ita, belonging to a Shoe-Maker. Ber. Who ever said that a Rock had Brains ? A I. There is no Absurdity in that, if you do but change the Gender. Can. This Synod makes the old Proverb good, So many Men, so many Minds. But what Conclusion are we come to ? The Opinions may be summ'd up, but can't be divided ; so that the major Part may carry it against the minor. Al. Well then, let the better overcome the worse. Can. But we must have another Assembly to do that ; for every Man's own Geese are Swans. A I. If that Proverb held good, we should not have so many Adulteries as we have. But I can advise you to an expeditious Method : Let us cast Lots whose Opinion of all of them shall be allow'd to be determinative. Can. That Lot will fall upon yourself. Have not I spoken the Truth ? Al. I approve best of the first, and of the last. Can. If I may speak for the rest, we all agree. A I. Well then, let it go for authentick. Can. Let it be so. Al. If any Body shall dissent, what shall be the Penalty ? Can. Let him be set down in great Letters, A HERE- TICK IN GRAMMAR. Al. I will add very fortunately one Thing, that in my Opinion ought not to be omitted : Having receiv'd it from a Syrian Physician, I will communicate it to my Friends. Ber. What is it ? A I. If you pound a Water-Beet, an Oak-Gall, and some Shoemakers Ink in a Mortar, and sprinkle with it six Ounces of Dung, and make it into a Poultice, it will be a present Remedy for the Mange and Measles in Hogs. Ber. But hark ye, Albinus, you that have help'd us all to this Job of the Anticomarita, what Author did you read it in? 152 Colloquies of Erasmus. A I. I'll tell you, but in your Ear, and but one of you. Ber. Well, I'll receive it, but upon this Condition, that I may whisper it in the Ear of one Person too. A I. But one repeated often enough will make a Thousand. Ber. You say right, when you have once a Couple, it is not in your Power to stop it from going further. A I. That which a few know may be kept a Secret ; but that which a great many know cannot ; three makes a Multitude. Ber. Right, he that has three Wives at the same Time, may be said to have many ; but he that has but three Hairs upon his Head, or three Teeth in his Mouth, maybe said to have a few or none. A I. Mind, Sophister. Ber. What strange Story is this ! This is as absurd as if the Greeks, who carry'd so many Fleets to conquer Troy, should not be able to call it by its Name, but instead of Troy should say Sutrium. Al. But this is a Rabbin that is lately come down from Heaven, who, unless he had, like a present Deity, lent his Assistance in sustaining human Affairs, we had long ere now been at a Loss to find either Men, Religion, Philosophy, or Letters. Ber. In Troth he ought to be one of Moriats Noblemen of the first Rank, and deserves for the future to be call'd Archi- morita (an Arch-Fool) with his Anticomarites. 153 AFAMOS TAMO2, or, The UNEQUAL MARRIAGE. The ARGUMENT. The unequal Marriage exposes to View the Folly of People in common, who in their Espousals chiefly regard the Greatness of the Fortune, and disregard the Diseases of the Husband, tho they are worse than the Leprosy itself. The Description of a de- form d Man. That the Cruelty of Parents in matching their Daughters, is worse than that of Mezentius, of which Virgil writes in his Tenth Book o/^Enelds. He describes the Vices of a bad Husband ; that this is not marrying a Man, but a dead Carcass. In getting Dogs, Calves, and Horses, they take Care to have one strong Beast copulate with another, good ones with those that are like themselves; nor won't suffer a diseasd one to leap a sound one. That the Commonwealth sustains a great Detriment by these foolish and unhappy Marriages. PETRONIUS^ GABRIEL. DET. Whence is our Gabriel come, with this sour Look ? what, is he come out of Trophonius's Cave ? Ga. No, I have been at a Wedding. Pet. I never saw a Look in my Life that had less of the Air of a Wedding in it ; for those that have been at Weddings, use to look cheerfully and airily for a whole 154 Colloquies of Erasmus. Week after, and old Men themselves to look younger by ten Years. What Wedding is it that you have been at ? I believe at the Wedding of Death and the Cobler. Ga. Not so, but of a young Gentleman with a Lady of Sixteen, who has all the Accomplishments that you can wish for, whether Beauty, good Humour, Family, or Fortune ; in short, a Wife fit far Jupiter himself. Pet. Phoo ! what, so young a Girl to such an old Fellow as he ? Ga. Kings don't grow old. Pet. But what makes you look so melancholy then ? It may be you envy the Happiness of the Bridegroom, who has rival'd you. Ga. Pshaw, there's nothing of that in the Matter. Pet. Well then, has any Thing happen'd like what is re- lated of the Lapit/tae's Feast ? Ga. No, not so neither. Pet. What then, had you not Wine enough ? Ga. Yes, and too much too. Pet. Had you no Pipers ? Ga. Yes, and Fiddlers too, and Harpers, and Trumpeters, and Bagpipers. Pet. What was the Matter then ? Was not Hymen at the Wedding ? Ga. They call'd loudly for him with all this Musick, but to no Purpose. Pet. Were not the Graces there neither ? Ga. Not a Soul of them, nor Bridemaid Juno, nor beauti- ful Venus, nor Jupiter Gamelius. Pet. By my Troth, you tell me a Story of a dull Wed- ing indeed, an ungodly one, or rather an unmarried Marriage. Ga. You would have said so indeed, if you had seen it. Pet. Had you no Dancing at it ? Ga. No, but we had wretched Limping. Pet. What, had you no lucky Godship at all to exhilarate the Wedding. Ga. No, not one there but a Goddess, that the Greeks call Psora. The Unequal Marriage. 155 Pet. Why, you give me an Account of a scabby Wedding indeed. Ga. Nay, a cankered, and a pockey one. Pet. But, prithee, Friend Gabriel, tell me, What makes the Remembrance of it fetch Tears from your Eyes ? Ga. Ah ! dear Petronius, it is enough to fetch Tears from a Flint-Stone. Pet. I believe so, if a Flint-Stone had been present, and seen it. But prithee, What extraordinary Mischief is this ? Don't hide it from me, nor keep my Expectation any longer in Suspense. Ga. Do you know Lampridius Eubulus ? Pet. Yes ; there is not a better nor happier Man in the City. Ga. Well, and do you know his Daughter Iphigenia too ? Pet. You have mention'd the very Flower of the Age. Ga. She is so ; but, do you know who she's married to ? Pet. I shall know when you have told me. Ga. She is married to Pompilius Blennus. Pet. What, to that Hector, that us'd to talk Folks to Death in cracking of his bullying Tricks ? Ga. To the very Man. Pet. He has been for a long Time very noted in this Town, for two Things chiefly, i. e. Lying, and the Mange, which has no proper Name to it, tho' indeed it has a great many. Ga. A very proud Distemper, that won't strike Sail to the Leprosy, the Elephantine Leprosy, Tetters, the Gout, or Ringworm/if there was to be an Engagement between them. Pet. So the Sons of Esculapius tell us. Ga. What Need is there, Petronius, for me to describe to you a Damsel that you are very well acquainted with? altho' her Dress was a great Addition to her native Beauty. My Pctronius, you would have taken her for a Goddess, had you seen her. Every Thing in her and about her was graceful. In the mean Time out comes our blessed Bridegroom with his Snub-Nose, dragging one Leg after him, but not so 156 Colloquies of Erasmus. cleverly neither as the Switzers do ; itchy Hands, a stinking Breath, heavy Eyes, his Head bound up with a Forehead- Piece, and a Running at his Nose and Ears. Other People wear their Rings on their Fingers, but he wears his on his Thighs. Pet. What was in the Mind of the Lady's Parents, to join such a Daughter to a living Mummy ? Ga. I can't tell, except it was with them, as it is with many more, that have lost their Senses. Pet. It may be he was very rich. Ga. He is very rich indeed, but it is in the Debts he owes. Pet. What greater Punishment could they have inflicted upon the Maid, if she had poison'd her Grandfathers and Grandmothers, both of the Father's and Mother's Side ? Ga. Nay, if she had scatter'd her Water upon the Grave of her Parents, it would have been a Punishment bad enough to have oblig'd her but to have given a Kiss to such a Monster. Pet. I am of your Mind. Ga. I look upon it a greater Piece of Cruelty, than if they had stripp'd their Daughter naked, and expos'd her to Bears, Lions, or Crocodiles : For these wild Beasts would either have spar'd her for her exquisite Beauty, or put her out of her Pain by a quick Dispatch. Pet. You say right : I think this is what would have be- come Mezentius himself, who, as Virgil tells us, bound dead Bodies to living ones, Hands to Hands, and Mouths to Mouths. But I don't believe Mezentius himself would have been so inhuman as to have bound such a lovely Maid to such a Carcass as this : Nor is there any dead Body you would not chuse to be bound to, rather than to such a stink- ing one ; for his Breath is rank Poison, what he speaks is Pestilence, and what he touches mortifies. Ga. Now, Petronius, imagine with yourself what a Deal of Pleasure she must needs take in these Kisses, Embraces, and nocturnal Dalliances. Pet. I have sometimes heard Parsons talk of unequal The Unequal Marriage. 1 5 7 Matches ; that may certainly with the greatest Propriety be call'd an unequal Match ; which is, as it were, setting a Jewel in Lead. But all this While I stand in Admiration at the Virgin's Courage ; for such young Damsels are frighted out of their Wits at the Sight of a Fairy or a Hob- goblin ; and can this Damsel dare to embrace such a Car- cass as this in the Night-Time ? Ga. The Damsel has these three Things to plead in her Excuse ; The Authority of her Parents, the Persuasion of her Friends, and the Unexperiencedness of her Age. But I am amaz'd at the Madness of her Parents. Who is there that has a Daughter never so homely, that would marry her to a Leper ? Pet. No Body, in my Opinion, that had a Grain of Sense. If I had a Daughter that had but one Eye, and but one Leg, and as deform 'd as Thersites was, that Homer speaks of, and I could not give her a Penny for her Portion, I would not marry her to such a Son-in-Law as he. Ga. This Pox is more infectious and destructive than the worst of Leprosies : It invades on a sudden, goes off, and rallies again, and frequently kills at last ; while the Leprosy will sometimes let a Man live, even to extreme old Age. Pet. Perhaps the Parents were ignorant of the Bride- groom's Distemper. Ga. No, they knew it very well. Pet. If they had such a Hatred to their Daughter, why did they not sew her up in a Sack, and throw her into the Thames ? Ga. Why truly if they had, the Madness would not have been so great. Pet. By what Accomplishments did the Bridegroom re- commend himself to them ? Was he excellent in any Art ? Ga. Yes, in a great many ; he's a great Gamester, he'll drink down any Body, a vile Whoremaster, the greatest Artist in the World at bantering and lying, a notable Cheat, pays no Body, revels prodigally ; and in short, whereas there are but seven liberal Sciences taught in the Schools, he's Master of more than ten liberal ones. 158 Colloquies of Erasmus. Pet. Sure he must have something very extraordinary to recommend him to the Parents. Ga. Nothing at all, but the glorious Title of a Knight. Pet. A fine Sort of a Knight, that can scarce sit in a Sad- dle for the Pox ! But it may be he had a great Estate. Ga. He had once an indifferent one ; but by his living so fast, has little or nothing left, but one little Turret, from whence he makes Incursions to rob Passengers ; and that's so illy provided for Entertainment, that you would not accept of it for a Hog-Stye. And he's always bragging of his Castles, and Fiefs, and other great Things ; and is for setting up his Coat of Arms every where. Pet. What Coat of Arms does his Shield bear ? Ga. Three Golden Elephants in a Field Gules. Pet. Indeed an Elephant is a good Bearing for one that is sick of the Elephantiasis. He must, without Doubt, be a Man of Blood. Ga. Rather a Man of Wine ; for he is a great Admirer of Red Wine, and by this Means he is a Man of Blood for you. Pet. Well then, his Elephant's Trunk will be serviceable to him. Ga. It will so. Pet. Then this Coat of Arms is a Token that he is a great Knave, a Fool, and a Drunken Sot ; and the Field of his Coat of Armour represents Wine, and not Blood ; and the Golden Elephant denotes, that what Gold he had, has been spent in Wine. Ga. Very right. Pet. Well, what Jointure does this Bully settle upon his Bride ? Ga. What ? Why a very great one. Pet. How can a Bankrupt settle a large one ? Ga. Pray don't take me up so short ; I say again, a very large one, a thundering Pox. Pet. Hang me, if I would not sooner marry my Daughter to a Horse, than to such a Knight as he. Ga. I should abundantly rather chuse to marry my Daugh- The Unequal Marriage. 1 59 ter to a Monk ; for this is not marrying to a Man, but to the Carcase of a Man. Now, tell me, had you been present where this Spectacle was to be seen, could you refrain from Tears ? Pet. How should I, when I can't hear it without ? Were the Parents so abandon'd to all natural Affection, as to throw away their only Child, a Virgin of such Beauty, Accomplish- ments, and sweet Conditions, by selling her for a Slave to such a Monster, for a lying Coat of Arms ? Ga. But this enormous Crime, than which you can't find one more inhuman, cruel, or unlike a Parent, is made but a Jest on now-a-Days by our People of Quality : altho' it is necessary that those that are born for the Administration of the Affairs of the Government, should be Persons of very sound and strong Constitutions : For the Constitution of the Body has a great Influence upon the Mind ; and it is not to be doubted, but this Disease exhausts all the Brains a Man has : and by this Means it comes to pass, that our Ministers of State have neither sound Minds, nor sound Bodies. Pet. It is not only requisite that our Ministers of State should be Men of sound Judgment, and strong Constitutions but Men of Honour, and goodly Personages. Altho' the principal Qualifications of Princes are Wisdom and Integrity, yet it is of some considerable Moment what the Form of his Person is that governs others : for if he be cruel, the Deformity of his Body will expose him the more to Envy. If he be a Prince of Probity and Piety, his Virtue will be render'd more conspicuous by the Amiableness of his Person. Ga. That's very true. Pet. Don't People use to lament the Misfortune of those Women, whose Husbands, soon after their Marriage, fall into Leprosies or Apoplexies ? Ga. Yes, and that with very good Reason too. Pet. What Madness is it then, voluntarily to deliver a Daughter over into the Hands of a Leper ? Ga. Nay, it is worse than Madness. If a Nobleman has a Mind to have a good Pack of Hounds, do you think he would bring a mangy scoundrel Cur to a well-bred Bitch ? 160 Colloquies of Erasmus. Pet. No, he would with the utmost Diligence look for a Dog, that upon all Accounts was of a good Breed, to line her, that he might not have a Litter of Mongrels. Ga. And if a Lord had a Mind to have a good Breed of Horses, would he admit a diseased good-for-nothing Stallion to leap a most excellent Mare ? Pet. No, he would not suffer a diseased Stallion to enter his Stable Door, lest he should infect other Horses. Ga. And yet, at the same Time, they don't matter what Sort of a Son-in-Law they gave their Daughter to, from whom those Children are to be produc'd, that are not only to inherit their Estates, but also to govern the State. Pet. Nay, a Country Farmer won't suffer any Bull to leap a young Cow, nor every Horse his Mare, nor every Boar to brim his Sow ; tho' a Bullock is design'd for the Plough, a Horse for the Cart, and a Swine for the Kitchen. Ga. See now how perverse the Judgments of Mankind are. If a poor Fellow should presume to kiss a Noble- man's Daughter, they would think the Affront a Founda- tion enough to go to War upon. Pet. And very hotly too. Ga. And yet these Persons, voluntarily, knowingly, and deliberately, give up the dearest Thing they have in the World to such an abominable Monster, and are privately unnatural to their own Flesh and Blood, and publickly to their Country. Pet. If the Bridegroom does but halt a little, altho' as to any Thing else he is perfectly sound, how is he despis'd for a Husband ! And is the Pox the only Thing that is no Inconvenience in a married Life ? Ga. If any Man should marry his Daughter to a Francis- can, what an abominable Thing would it be accounted ! what an Outcry would there be, that he had thrown his Daughter away ! But yet, when he has pull'd off that Dress, he has every Way well-made sound Limbs ; while the other must pass her Days with a rotten Carcase, that is but half alive. If any one is married to a Priest, he is banter'd on The Unequal Marriage. 161 account of his Unction ; but one that is married to one that has the Pox, has one whose Unctions are worse by Abun- dance. Pet. Enemies that have taken a Maid captive, won't be guilty of such Barbarity as this ; nor will Kidnappers them- selves, to those they have kidnapp'd away ; and yet Parents will be guilty of it against their only Daughter ; and there's no Magistrate ordain'd to prevent the Mischief. Ga. How should a Physician cure a Madman, if he has a Spice of the same Distemper himself ? Pet. But it is a Wonder to me, that Princes, whose Busi- ness it is to take Care of the Common-Wealth only in those Things which relate to the Body, of which nothing is of greater Moment than the Health of it, should find out no Remedy for this Evil. This egregious Pestilence has in- fected great Part of the Earth ; and in the mean Time they lie snoring on, and never mind it, as if it were a Matter not worth their Notice. Ga. Have a Care, Petronius, what you say as to Princes. But hark you, I'll tell you a Word in your Ear. Pet. O wretched ! I wish what you say were not true. Ga. How many Diseases do you think are caused by bad Wine, a thousand Ways sophisticated ? Pet. Why, if we may believe the Physicians, they are in- numerable. Ga. Well, and do the Ministers of State take any Care of the Matter ? Pet. They take Care enough as to the collecting the Ex- cise, but no further. Ga. She that knowingly marries a Husband that is not sound, perhaps may deserve to suffer the Punishment she has brought upon herself; altho', if it were my Fortune to sit at the Helm, I would banish them both from civil So- ciety : But if any one married one that was infected with this Disease, who told her he was a sound Man, and I were chosen Pope, I would make this Marriage void, altho' it had been confirm'd by a thousand Contracts. VOL. II. L 1 62 Colloquies of Erasmus. Pet. Upon what Pretence I wonder ? For Marriage legally contracted can't be disannull'd by any human Power. Ga. What ? Do you think that legally contracted, which is contracted treacherously ? A Contract is not valid, if a Slave palms himself upon a Maid for a free Man, and she marries him as such. She that marries such a Slave, marries an errant Slave ; and her Slavery is so much the more un- happy, in that the Lady Psora never makes any Body free ; that there's no comfortable Hope of ever being deliver'd from this Slavery. Pet. Indeed you have found out a Colour for it. Ga. And besides, there can be no such Thing as Marriage, but between those Persons that are living ; but in this Case, a Woman is married to a dead Man. Pet. You have found out another Pretence : But I suppose you would permit pocky Folks to marry pocky, that, accord- ing to the old Proverb, there might be like to like. Ga. If it was lawful for me to act for the Good of the Publick, I would suffer them to be married together, but I would burn them after they were married. Pet. Then you would act the Part of a Tyrant, not of a Prince. Ga. Do you account a Surgeon to be a Tyrant who cuts off some of the Fingers, or burns some Part to preserve the whole Body ? I don't look upon that to be Cruelty, but rather Mercy. And I wish this had been done when this Distemper first appear'd in the World ; then the publick Welfare of Mankind had been consulted by the Destruction of a few. And we find Examples of this in the French Histories. Pet. But it would be a gentler Way to geld them, or part them asunder. Ga. And what would you have done to the Women, pray? Pet. I'd padlock them up. Ga. That's one Way, indeed, to prevent us from having more of the Breed ; but I will confess it is a gentler Way, if you will but own the other to be safer. Even those that The Unequal Marriage. 1 63 are castrated, have an itching Desire upon them ; nor is the Infection convey'd by one Way only, but by a Kiss, by Discourse, by a Touch, or by drinking with an infected Party. And we find also, that there is a certain malicious Disposition of doing Mischief peculiar to this Distemper, that whosoever has it, takes a Delight to propagate it to as many as he can, tho' it does him no good. Now if they be only separated, they may flee to other Places, and may either by Night impose upon Persons, or on them that do not know them. But there can be no Danger from the Dead. Pet. I confess it is the safest Way, but I can't tell whether it is agreeable to Christian Gentleness, or no. Ga. Prithee tell me then, from whom is there the most Danger, from common Thieves, or from such Cattle ? Pet. I confess Money is of much less Value than Health. Ga. And yet we Christians hang them, nor is it accounted Cruelty, but Justice ; and if you consider the publick Good, it is our Duty so to do. Pet. But in this Case, the Person is punish'd that did the Injury. Ga. What, then these, I warrant you, are Benefactors to the Publick ? But let us suppose that some get this Distem- per without any Fault of their own ; tho' you will find that very few have it, that don't get it by their own Wickedness : the Lawyers will tell you, it is sometimes lawful to put the Innocent to Death, if it be very much for the Good of the Publick ; as the Greeks, after the taking of Troy, put As- tyanax, the Son of Hector, to Death, lest he should set a new War on Foot : Nor do they think it any Wickedness, to put a Tyrant's innocent Children to Death, after they have slain the Father. And do not we Christians go to War, tho' at the same Time the greatest Share of the Calamities falls on those Persons, that least deserve them ? And it is the same Thing in our Reprisals, or Letters of Mark ; he who did the Wrong is safe, and the Merchant is robb'd, who never so much as heard one Word of it, he is so far from being chargeable with the Fault. Now if we make Use of 1 64 Colloquies of Erasmus. such Remedies as these in Things of no great Moment, what, think you, ought to be done in a Matter of the greatest Con- sequence Pet. I am overcome by the Truth of your Arguments. Ga. Then take this along with you too. As soon as ever the Plague begins to appear in Italy, the infected Houses are shut up, and the Nurses that look after the Sick, are for- bidden to appear abroad. And tho' some call this In- humanity, it is the greatest Humanity ; for by this prudent Care, the Calamity is put a Stop to, by the Burials of a few Persons. But how great Humanity is it to take Careto pre- serve the Lives of so many thousands ? Some think it a very inhospitable Thing, for the Italians, when there is but the bare Report of a Pestilence, to drive Travellers from their very Gates in an Evening, and force them to lie all Night in the open Air. But for my Part, I account it an Act of Piety to take Care of the publick Good at the Incon- venience of a few. Some Persons look upon themselves very couragious and complaisant, in daring to venture to visit one that is sick of the Plague, having no Manner of Call at all to do it ; but what greater Folly can there be, than by this Courage, when they come Home, to bring the Distem- per to their Wives and Children, and all their Family ? What can be more unkind, than by this Complaisance to a Friend, to bring those Persons that are the dearest to you in the World, into the Danger of their Lives ? But then again, how less dangerous is the Plague itself than the Pox ? the Plague frequently passes by those that are nearest, and seldom affects the old ; and as to those that it does affect, it either dispatches them quickly, or restores them to their Health much sounder than they were before. But as for the Pox, what is that but a lingring Death ; or, to speak more properly, Burial ? Pet. What you say is very true ; and at least, the same Care 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 Body should let another shave him, but be his own Barber. The Unequal Marriage. 165 Ga. But what will you say, if both of them keep their Mouths shut ? Pet. They would take the Infection in at their Nostrils. Ga. But there is a Remedy for that too. Pet. What is it ? Ga. They may do as the Alchy mists do, they may wear a Mask with Glasses for Eyes to see thro', and a breathing Place for their Mouths and Nostrils, thro' a Horn which reaches from their Jaw-Bones down to their Back. Pet. That Contrivance might do pretty well, if there were no Danger from the Touch of the Finger, the Linen, the Combs, and the Scissars. Ga. But however, I think 'tis the best Way to let the Beard grow, tho' it be even down to the Knees. Pet. Why, I am of that Mind too. And then let there be an Act of Parliament, that the same Person shan't be a Barber and a Surgeon too. Ga. But that's the Way to starve the Barbers. Pet. Then let them spend less, and be something better paid for Shaving. Ga. Let it be so with all my Heart. Pet. And let there be a Law made too, that no Body shall drink out of the same Cup with another. Ga. They will scarce be confin'd to that in England. Pet. And that two shan't lie in the same Bed, unless they be Husband and Wife. Ga. I like that very well. Pet. And then as to Inns, let no Stranger sleep in the same Sheets, that another has lain in before. Ga. But what will you do then with the Germans, who scarce wash them twice a Year ? Pet. Let them employ Washer- Women. And besides, let them leave off the Custom of saluting with a Kiss, altho' it be of an old standing. Ga. But then, as to the Churches ? Pet. Let every one hold his Hand before his Mouth. Ga. But then as to common Conversation ? 1 66 Colloquies of Erasmus. Pet. Let that Direction of Hoiner be observed, not to come too near the Person he talks to, and let he that hears him keep his Lips shut Ga. Twelve Tables would scarce contain all these Laws. Pet. But in the mean Time, what Advice do you give for the poor unfortunate Girl ? Ga. What can I give her but this, that unless she likes being miserable, she be so as little as she can ? to clap her Hands before her Mouth, whenever her Husband offers to kiss her ; and to put on Armour when she goes to Bed with him. Pet. Whither do you steer your Course when you go Home? Ga. Directly to my Closet Pet. What are you going to do there ? Ga. They have desired me to write an Epittialamium ; but instead of it, I will write an Epitaph. i6 7 The IMPOSTURE. The ARGUMENT. This Colloquy contains a familiar Discoitrse between Livinus and Philip : where Livinus imposes upon Philip, by speaking in Verse, when he supposd him to speak Prose. PHILIP and LIVINUS, . I wish you Health, Livinus. Liv. I will be well, if that will please you ; but do you be upon your Guard, for I design to catch you, if you don't watch me very narrowly. Ph. An open Enemy is not much to be feared. But come on, deceive me if you can. Liv. I have deceiv'd you already, and you have not per- ceiv'd it ; but take Care of the second Time. Ph. I believe I have to do with a Master of Leger-de- main ; I can't find you have impos'd upon me at all. Liv. Well then, be very attentive this Time ; except you have a Mind to be deceiv'd, as you have been twice already. Ph. I am prepar'd for you ; begin. Liv. What you bid me do, is done already. Ph. What is acted, or what is done ? I perceive nothing of Deceit. Liv. Well, tho' I have given you Warning so many Times already, however mind this Time. Ph. This is a new Sort of Conjuration ; you tell me you have impos'd upon me, and I perceive nothing of Art in all this, altho' I watch very narrowly your Eyes, your Hands, and your Tongue. But come, t'other Touch ; begin again. i68 Colloquies of Erasmus. Liv. I have begun again and again, over and over so many Times, and you can't see the Trap that's laid for you. Ph. Wherein do you lay a Trap for me ? Liv. This Tongue, I say, of mine entraps you, and you neither perceive it with your Ears, nor see it with your Eyes. However, now let your Eyes and Ears be both attentive. Ph. I can't be more attentive, if my Life lay at Stake ; but however, try to trick me once more. Liv. Why, I have trick'd you again already, and you per- ceive nothing of the Artifice. Ph. You make me mad : Prithee tell me, what Kind of Hocus-pocus is this ? Liv. Why all this While I have been speaking to you in Verse, and am at this Time. Ph. I thought of nothing less than of that. Liv. At first I answer'd you in two Trimeter Iambics ; then in a Trochaic Tetrameter Catalectic ; after that in no- thing but Cretics ; after that in a Phaolaecian Hendeca- syllable ; then again in mere Coriambics ; then in plain Anapaestes ; then again in three Sapphics ; by-and-by in a Sotadic, and last of all in a Trochaic Tetrameter. Ph. Good God ! I should have guess'd a hundred Things before I should have guess'd that. If I live, I'll serve you the like Trick. Liv. Do, if you can. Ph. I have pay'd you in your own Coin twice, and you did not perceive the Trick. Liv. What, in this short Time? Ph. I threaten'd you in an Iambic Tetrameter Catalectic ; after that I added five Cretics. Liv. Why then I find it is according to the old Proverb, Set a Thief to catch a Thief. Ph. Very true ; but I pray this for both of us, that neither of us may have a more injurious Cheat put upon us. 169 CYCLOPS, or the GOSPEL- CARRIER. The ARGUMENT. Cyclops, or Evangeliophorus, inveighs against them who have the Gospel always in their Mouths, but nothing agreeable in their Lives. It contains bitter Invectives against Hypocrites, who make a Profes- sion of Religion with their Tongues, but deny Religion by their Conversation. The Gospel, like Wine, does no Good, except it be inwardly taken. CAN-NIUS, POLYPHEMUS. r*AN. What is Polyphemus hunting after here ? Poly, Do you ask what I am hunting after, when I have neither Dogs nor Hunting-Pole ? Can. Perhaps some Lady of the Wood here ? Poly. You have guess'd shrewdly, lo here is my Hunting- Net. Can. What's this I see ? Bacchus in a Lion's Skin ? Poly- pJiemus with a Book in his Hand, ya\fj icpoKwrov ; a Cat in a lac'd Petticoat ? Poly. Nay, I have not only painted my Book with Saff- ron, but also with Vermilion and Azure. Can. I did not speak of Crocus, but I spoke Greek, Cro- coton. It seems to be a military Book, for it seems to be armed with Bosses and Plates, and Rings of Brass. Poly. Look into it. Can. I see what it is, and truly it is very fine ; but not so fine as it should be. 1 70 Colloquies of Erasmus. Poly. What does it want ? Can. You ought to put your Coat of Arms upon it. Poly. What Arms? Can. The Head of Silenus looking out of a Hogshead. But what does it treat of? the Art of Drinking ? Poly. See what it is, that you do not speak Blasphemy before you are aware. Can. Why then, is there any Thing in it that is sacred ? Poly. What can be more sacred than the Gospel ? Can. Good God ! What does Polyp fomus do with the Gospel ? Poly. Why don't you ask, what a Christian has to do with Christ ? Can. I don't know but that a Halbert would become you better ; for if any one should meet you at Sea in that Figure, he would take you for a Pirate, or in the Wood for a High- Way-Man. Poly. But the Gospel teaches us, not to judge of Men by outward Appearance ; for as a tyrannous Disposition often lies hid under a monkish Habit, yet sometimes a short Head of Hair, curl'd Whiskers, a stern Brow, a fierce Look, and a Feather in the Cap, and a Buff-Coat and Breeches cut and slash'd, cover an Evangelical Mind. Can. And why may it not ? sometimes a Sheep lies hid under a Wolfs Skin. And if we may give any Credit to Emblems, an Ass lurks under the Coat of a Lion. Poly. Nay, I have known a Man carry the Sheep in his Face, and the Fox in his Heart. And I wish he had as can- did Friends, as he has black Eyes ; and that he had as well the Value of Gold, as the Colour of it. Can. If he that wears a woollen Hat, must needs wear a Sheep's Head, how do you go loaded, that carry a Sheep and an Estrich too on your Head ? But does not he act more absurdly, that carries a Bird upon his Head, and an Ass in his Breast ? Poly. You bite too close. Can. But it were very well, if that Gospel that you have The Gospel-Carrier. 171 so finely adorn'd, did reciprocally adorn you. You have adorn'd it with Colours, I wish it did adorn you with good Manners. Poly. I'll make that my Care. Can. As you used to do. Poly. But omitting all Reflections, do you really blame those that carry the Gospel about them ? Can. No, by no Means (minime Gentium). Poly. What ? will you say that I am the least Man in the World, that am taller than you by an Ass's Head ? Can. I don't think you are so much taller, tho' the Ass should prick up his Ears. Poly. By an Ox's Head, I dare say. Can. I like the Comparison ; but I said Minimi the Ad- verb, not Minime the Vocative Case. Poly. Pray what's the Difference between an Egg and an Egg? Can. And what's the Difference, say you, between the middle Finger and the little Finger ? Poly. Why, the middle Finger is the longest. Can. Wittily said : What's the Difference between the Ears of an Ass, and those of a Wolf ? Poly. The Ears of a Wolf are shorter. Can. You have hit it. Poly. But I used to measure long and short Things by the Span, and by the Ell, and not by the Ears. Can. Come on. He that carried Christ, was call'd Chris- topher ; and instead of Polyphemus, you, who carry the Gos- pel, shall be call'd the Gospel-Bearer. Poly. Don't you think it a holy Thing to carry the Gospel ? Can. Not at all, unless you will allow me, that Asses are the Greatest Saints. Poly. Why so ? Can. Becauseone Ass will carry at least three thousand such Books ; and I am persuaded you would be able to carry as many yourself, if you were well hamper'd. Poly. I think there is no Absurdity in attributing Holiness to an Ass, because he carry'd Christ. 172 Colloquies of Erasmus. Can, I shan't envy you that Holiness ; and if you have a Mind to it, I will give you some Reliques of that very Ass that Christ rode upon, to kiss. Poly. You will give me a very acceptable Present ; for that Ass was consecrated by being touch'd by the Body of Christ. Can. And those Persons touch'd Christ too, that smote our Saviour on the Face. Poly. But come, tell me your Mind seriously ; is it not a pious Thing to carry the Book of the Gospel about one ? Can. It is a pious Thing, if it be done sincerely, and with- out Hypocrisy. Poly. Talk of Hypocrisy to Monks ; what has a Soldier to do with Hypocrisy ? Can. But first tell me what Hypocrisy is. Poly. When a Man seems to be one Thing, and is really another. Can. But what does the carrying the Gospel about you signify ? Does it not signify a holy Life ? Poly. I suppose it does. Can. Well then, where a Man's Life is not suitable to the Book, is not that Hypocrisy ? Poly. It seems so to be. But what is it truly to carry the Gospel ? Can. Some carry the Gospel in their Hands, as the Fran- ciscans do the Rules of St. Francis ; and at that Rate the Paris Porters, Asses, and Geldings may carry it as well as a Christian. Some carry it about in their Mouths, and talk of nothing but Christ and the Gospel : This is Pharisaical. Others carry it about in their Hearts. He is the true Gospel- Bearer, that carries it in his Hands, in his Mouth, and in his Heart. Poly. But where are these ? Can. The Deacons in the Churches, who both carry the Gospel, read it to the People, and have it in their Hearts. Poly. But for all that, they are not all holy, who carry the Gospel, in their Hearts. Can. Don't play the Sophister with me. A Man does not The Gospel-Carrier. 173 carry it in his Heart, that does not love it with all his Soul ; and nobody loves it as he ought, that does not conform to it in his Life. Poly. These Subtleties I don't understand. Can. I'll be plainer then. If you were to carry a Flaggon of Wine upon your Shoulders, what is it but a Burden ? Poly. Nothing. Can. If you hold it in your Mouth and spurt it out ? Poly. I should be never the better for it ; tho' I don't often use to do so. Can. But suppose you take a hearty Draught, as your Way is ? Poly. There is nothing more Divine. Can. It warms the whole Body, brings the Blood into the Cheeks, and makes a Man look with a merry Countenance. Poly. Most certainly. Can. So it is with the Gospel ; being receiv'd into the Veins of the Soul, it renews the whole Habit of the Man. Poly. It may be you think then, that I don't lead my Life according to my Book. Can. No Body can tell that better than yourself. Poly. If it, indeed, were to be resolved after the military Manner. Can. Suppose a Man should give you the Lye to your Face, or call you Blockhead, what would you do ? Poly. What would I do ? I'd give him a Box on the Ear : I'd make him feel the Weight of my Fingers. Can. What if he should give you a Box o'th' Ear ? Poly. Why then I'd cut his Throat for it. Can. But your Book teaches you another Lesson, and bids you return good (Words) for evil, and if any one strikes you on the right Cheek, to turn to him the left also. Poly. I have read so, but I had forgot it. Can. You pray often, I suppose. Poly. That's Pharisaical. Can. Long Prayers are indeed Pharisaical, if they be ac- companied with Ostentation. But your Book teaches, that you should pray always, but with your Mind. 174 Colloquies of Erasmus. Poly. Well, but for all that I do pray sometimes. Can. When ? Poly. Sometimes, when I think on't : It may be once or twice a Week. Can. And what is your Prayer ? Poly. Why, the Lord's Prayer. Can. And how often do you say it over ? Poly. But once : For the Gospel forbids vain Repetitions. Can. Can you go thro' the Lord's Prayer without think- ing of any Thing else ? Poly. I never try'd that. Is it not enough that I pro- nounce ? Can. I can't tell that God takes Notice of any Thing in Prayer but the Voice of the Heart. Do you fast often ? Poly. No, never. Can. But your Book recommends Prayer and Fasting both. Poly. I should approve of it too, but my Stomach will not bear it. Can. But St. Paul says, that lie is no Servant of Christ that serves his Belly. Do you eat Flesh every Day ? Poly. Yes, when I can get it. Can. And you are of a robust Constitution, that would live upon Hay (like a Horse) or the Barks of Trees. Poly. But Christ says, tliat those Things that go into a Man do not defile him. Can. Nor do they, if they be taken moderately, and with- out giving Scandal. But St. Paul, who was a Disciple of Christ, would rather starve with Hunger, than offend a weak Brother by his eating ; and he exhorts us to follow his Example, and that we become all Things to all Men. Poly. But Paul is Paul, and Polyphemus is Polypliemus. Can. But it is ^Egorfs Office to feed she-Goats. Poly. But I had rather eat myself. Can. That's a pleasant Wish ; you'll sooner be a he- Goat than a she one. Poly. But I used esse for edere. The Gospel-Carrier. 175 Can. Neatly spoken. Do you give liberally to the Poor ? Poly. I have nothing to give. Can. But you would have something to give, if you lived soberly, and took Pains. Poly. But it is a pleasant Thing to live at Ease. Can. Do you keep the Commandments ? Poly. That's a hard Task indeed. Can. Do you repent of your Sins ? Poly. Christ has made Satisfaction for us already. Can. How is it then that you make it out, that you love the Gospel ? Poly. I'll tell you ; there was a certain Franciscan with us, who was perpetually thundering out of the Pulpit against Erasmus's New Testament ; I caught the Fellow once by himself, and took him hold by the Hair with my left Hand, and nubbled him so well-favouredly with my right, that you could see no Eyes he had for the Swellings. What do you say now ? Was not this done like a Man that loves the Gos- pel ? And after all this, I gave him Absolution with this very Book, knocking him over his Coxcomb three Times, made three Bunches upon his Crown, in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and so absolv'd him in Form. Can. This was evangelically done, without Question : This is indeed a defending one Gospel with another. Poly. I chanc'd to light upon another, a Brother of his, of the same Order, who was still railing against Erasmus with- out either End or Measure. My Gospel-Zeal mov'd me once again, and I threatned him so severely, that I brought him to beg Pardon on his Knees, and confess, that what he said was by the Instigation of the Devil. I stood over him with my Partizan in my Hand, looking upon him like the Picture of Mars in a Battle, ready to have cut off his Head if he had not done it readily ; and this was done in the Presence of a great many Witnesses. Can. I wonder the Man was not frighted out of his Wits. But to proceed ; do you live chastly ? Poly. It may be I shall when I come to be old. But shall I tell you the Truth, Cannius ? 1 76 Colloquies of Erasmus. Can. I am no Priest, and if you have a Mind to confess yourself, you must seek somebody else. Poly. I use to confess to God, but for once I'll do it to you : I am as yet no perfect, but a very ordinary, Christian. We have four Gospels, and we military Gospellers propound to ourselves chiefly these four Things : ist, to take Care of our Bellies. 2ndly, That nothing be wanting below. Srdly, To have wherewith to live on. And lastly, To do what we list. And when we have gain'd these four Points, we drink and sing as if the Town was our own, Let the Gospel live, and Christ reign. Can. This is the Life of an Epicure, not of a Christian. Poly. I can't deny that. But you know Christ is omni- potent, and can make us other Men in an Instant, if he pleases. Can. Yea, and he may make you Swine too, and that seems to be an easier Change than into good Men. Poly. I wish there were no worse Things in the World, than Swine, Oxen, Asses and Camels. You may find a great many People that are fiercer than Lions, more ra- venous than Wolves, more lustful than Sparrows ; who will bite worse than Dogs, and sting worse than Vipers. Can. But it is now high Time for you to turn from a Brute to a Man. Poly. You say well, for I find in the Prophecies of these Times, that the World is near at an End. Can. There is so much the more Reason for you to make Haste to repent Poly. I hope Christ will give me his helping Hand. Can. But do you see that you render yourself fit Matter to work upon. But from whence do they gather, that the World is so near an End ? Poly. Because, they say, People are now doing just as they did before the Flood ; they are eating and drinking, marrying and giving in Marriage ; they whore, they buy, they sell, they pawn and lend upon Usury, and build ; Kings make War, and Priests study to encrease their Revenues ; The Gospel-Carrier. 177 School-Men make Syllogisms, Monks run up and down the World ; the Rabble makes Mobs, and Erasmus writes Col- loquies; and, in fine, no Miseries are wanting, Hunger, Thirst, Robberies, Hostilities, Plagues, Seditions ; and there is a great Scarcity of all that is good : and do not all these Things argue that the World is near an End ? Can. But of all this Mass of Mischiefs, which of them is it that troubles you most ? Poly, Guess. Can. That Spiders perhaps make Cobwebs in your empty Pockets. Poly. As I hope to live, you have hit it. I am just now come from drinking hard ; but some other Time, when I am sober, if you will, we'll have another Touch at the Gospel. Can. And when shall I see you sober ? Poly. When I am so. Can. And when will you be so ? Poly. When you see me so. And, my dear Cannikin, in the mean Time, all Happiness attend you. Can. And, by Way of Requital, I wish you may be what you are call'd. Poly. And, that you may not outdo me in Courtesy, I wish the Can, from whence you have borrowed your Name, may never fail Cannius. VOL. II. M 7 8 ATIPOZAIONTZA. The IMPERTINENTS, or CROSS- PURPOSES. The ARGUMENT. This Colloquy, call'd 'ATrpoo-Siowcra, or Absurda, con- tains a confused Discourse, where nothing is answered to the Purpose, but is mere Nonsense : For one en- quires about a Wedding, and the other answers about a dangerous Voyage. ANNIUS and LUCIUS. A N. I was told that you were at Pancratius's, and Albina's Wedding. Lu. I never had a more unhappy Voyage in my Life, than at this Time. An. What say you ? Was there such a Power of Com- pany then ? Lu. I never would have taken less for my Life, than at that Time. An. See what it is to be rich ; now I had but a few at my Wedding, and they were poor Folks too. Lu. We were scarce put to Sea, but a great Storm arose. An. Why, you're talking of an Assembly of the Deities ; were there so many Noblemen and Ladies there ? Lu. Boreas tore the Sail in Pieces, and blew it quite away. An. I know the Bride, she's a perfect Beauty. Lu. Presently a Wave comes and tears off the Rudder. An. It is everybody's Opinion. And her Bridegroom does not come much short of her in Beauty, according to common Report. Cross Purposes. i 79 Lu. What do you think we thought of the Matter ? An. It is very rare now-a-Days for any to be Maids when they are married. Lu. We were obliged to fall back again. An. You talk of an incredible Portion. Lu. Presently we had another Misfortune befel us. An. Why did they venture such a tender Girl to such a boisterous Fellow ? Lu. We espied a Pirate Ship. An. In Truth, it is so in many Cases; Naughtiness makes Amends for Want of Age. Lu. There we had a double Engagement, one with the Sea, and another with the Pirates. An. What, so many Services ? and in the mean Time no Body gives a Farthing to the Poor. Lu. What ! should we have struck Sail ? Nay, Despair made us fight desperately. An. I am afraid it will be but a barren Match, if what you say be true. Lu. Nay, we threw our grappling Irons. An. This is a Novelty indeed ! What, with Child before Marriage ? Lu. Had you but seen the Conflict, you would have sworn, that I fought like an Hero. An. Well, I find the Marriage was not only made, but consummated too. Lu. We jump'd aboard the Pirate Ship. An. But I admire that they invited you who are a Stran- ger, and did not invite me who am related to the Bride's Father in the third Degree of Consanguinity. Lu. We threw them all over-Board into the Sea. An. You say right : The afflicted have no Friends. Lu. We shared all the Booty among us. An. I'll rally the Bride for it the first Opportunity I have. Lu. It presently grew very calm ; you would have said it had been the Halcyon Days. An. If she has Money, I have a stomachful Spirit : I don't care a Fig for her Kindness. 180 Colloquies of Erasmus. Lu. And so we brought two Ships Home instead of one. An. Let him be angry that will. Lu. Where am I going, do you ask ? Why to Church, to make an Offering of Part of the Sail to St Nicholas. An. I an't at Leisure to Day, I expect some Friends to dine with me ; at another Time I won't refuse. The FALSE KNIGHT: Or, in RETS The ARGUMENT. avtTnros, or counterfeit Nobility, exposes the Vices of those Persons who think they may do any Thing under the Mask of Nobility, althd they are not remarkable for either noble Birth or Virtue : But Knaves, tJiat have a good Stock of Impudence, arrogate to themselves tJtat Honour that they dont deserve, unless Honour is due to the most flagitious Crimes. HARPALUS and NESTOR. . Can you help me out now with your Advice ? If you can, you shall find I am neither forgetful nor un- grateful. Nes. I'll bring it about that you shall be what you would be. Har. But it is not in our own Power to be born Noble- Men. Nes. If you are not a Noble-Man, strive by virtuous Ac- tions, that your Nobility may derive its Original from your- self. Har. That's a long Way about. Nes. Then the King will sell it you for a small Matter. Har. But Nobility that is purchased with Money, is ridi- culed by the Vulgar. Nes. If Nobility that is bought be so ridiculous a Thing, why are you so fond of being a Knight ? 1 82 Colloquies of Erasmus. Har. There are Reasons for that, and no slight ones neither, which I shall freely tell you, if you'll but put me in the Way of making myself honourable in the Opinion of the Vulgar. Nes. What signifies the Name without the Thing ? Har, But as I han't the Substance, I would have the Reputation of it. But, my Nestor, give me your Advice, and when you hear my Reasons you will say it is worth my While. Nes. Well, since you will have it, I'll tell you : In the first Place, remove yourself to a Place where you are not known. Har. Right. Nes. Then work yourself into the Acquaintance of young Men of Quality. Har. I take you in. Nes. First of all, by this Means, People will be apt to judge of you by the Company you keep. Har. They will so. Nes. But then you must be sure to have nothing about you that is vulgar. Har. As to what, do you mean ? Nes. I speak of your Cloaths, that they be not made of AVool, but Silk ; but if you cannot go to the Price of Silk, rather Fustian or Canvass, than Cloth. Har. You're in the right. Nes. And take Care not to wear any Thing that's whole ; but cut your Hat and your Doublet, your Hose, and your Shoes, and your Nails too, if you can. Never talk of any Thing that is mean. If any Traveller comes out of Spain, enquire of him how the King and the Pope agree, how your Cousin the Count of Nassau does, and all the rest of the Officers your old jolly Acquaintance. Har. It shall be done. Nes. Wear a Seal-Ring upon your Finger. Har. That's if my Pocket will speak. Nes. Then you may have a brass Ring gilt with a Doub- The False Knight. 183 let for a small Matter : But then you must have your Coat- of-Arms upon it too. Har. What Bearing would you have me chuse ? Nes. Why, if you will, two Milk-Pails and a Pot of Ale. Har. You joke upon me ; but do tell me seriously. Nes. Was you ever in a Battle ? Har. I never saw a Battle. Nes. But I believe you have beheaded the Farmers Geese and Capons. Har. Ay, many a Time, and manfully too. Nes. Why then, let your Coat of Arms be, three Goose Heads Or, and a Whinyard Argent. Har. What must the Field be ? Nes. What should it be but Gules ? a Monument of Blood shed plentifully. Har. Ay, why not ? for the Blood of a Goose is as red as the Blood of a Man. But pray go on. Nes. Have this Coat-of- Arms hung over the Gate of every Inn you lodge at. Har. What shall be added to the Helmet ? Nes. That's well thought on, make that with a Mouth slit from Ear to Ear. Har. What's your Reason for that ? Nes. First, to give you Air ; and then, that it may be suitable to your Dress. But what must the Crest be ? Har. I want to know that. Nes. A Dog's Head with bangle Ears. Har. That's common. Nes. Then add two Horns to it, this is uncommon. Har. I like that very well. But what Beasts shall I have for Supporters ? Nes. Why, as for Bucks, and Dogs, and Dragons, and Griffins, they have been all taken up already by Princes ; you shall have two Harpies. Har. Nothing can be better. Nes. But then we want the Title. In the first Place, you must be sure to take Care not to suffer yourself to be call'd 184 Colloquies of Erasmus. Harpalus Comensis, but Harpalus a Como ; the one is noble, the other pedantick. Har. It is so. Nes. Is there any Thing you can call yourself Lord of ? Har. No, not so much as a Hog's Stye. Nes. Was you born in any famous City ? Har. No, in a poor sorry Village ; for a Man must not lye when he asks Counsel. Nes. That's very true ; but is there never a Mountain near that Village ? Har. There is. Nes. And is there any Rock near that ? Har. Yes, a very steep one. Nes. Why, then you shall be, Harpalus, the Knight of the Golden Rock. Har. But most great Men, I observe, have their peculiar Motto's : As, Maximilian had, Keep within Compass ; and Philip, He that will ; and Charles, Further yet ; some one Thing, and some another. Nes. Well, do you let yours be, Turn every Stone. Har. Nothing more pertinent. Nes. Now, to confirm the World in their Esteem of you, you must counterfeit Letters sent you from such and such great Persons, in which you must frequently be styled the Illustrious Knight ; and there must be Mention made of great Affairs, as of Estates, Castles, huge Revenues, Com- mands, great Offices, rich Matches : and you must contrive that these Letters shall fall into People's Hands, as being dropt by Chance, or forgotten. Har. That will be very easy to me ; for, I understand Let- ters, and have so us'd myself to it, that I can counterfeit any Man's Hand, so exactly, that he shall not know it from his own. Nes. Either sew them into your Garment, or leave them in your Pocket, that when you send your Cloaths to the Taylor to mend, he may find them, and he'll make no Secret of it : and when you come to the Knowledge of it, put an The False Knight. 185 Air of Vexation and Displeasure on your Countenance, as if you were heartily vex'd, you were so careless as to leave them there. Har. I have practised that so long, that I can as easily change my Countenance, as I can my Dress. Nes. By this Means the Deceit will not be discovered, and the Matter will be blaz'd abroad. Har. I'll be sure to take great Care of that. Nes. Then you must furnish yourself with Companions, or Servants, who shall stand Cap in Hand to you, and call you my young Lord at every Turn. You need not be dis- courag'd at the Charge ; there are a great many young Men who will act this Part for nothing, or for the Humour's-Sake. And besides, there are a great many scribbling Blades in this Country, that are strangely infected with the Itch (I was going to say the Scab) of Writing ; and there are hungry Printers, that will venture at any Thing, if there be but any Hope of getting Money. You must bribe some of these, to give you in their Pamphlets the Title of a Nobleman of your Country, and let it be repeated every now and then in Capi- tal Letters. Thus they will celebrate you a Nobleman in Bohemia ; and one Book spreads more than an hundred talkative Tongues, or prattling Servants. Har. I don't dislike this Way neither ; but there will be Servants to be maintained. Nes. There will so ; but then you must not keep idle Ser- vants, that have no Hands ; they will be unprofitable. You must send one one Way, and another another, and so they will lay their Fingers on something or other ; they will have frequent Opportunities of doing that. Har. Say no more : I understand you. Nes. And then there are other Inventions. Har. Pray let me hear them. Nes. Unless you are an expert Gamester at Cards and Dice, a rank Whore-Master, a stout Drinker, a daring Ex- travagant, and understand the Art of Borrowing and Bub- bling, and have got the French Pox to-boot, scarce any one will believe you to be a Knight. 1 86 Colloquies of Erasmus. Har. I have been train'd up to these Exercises. But where must I get the Money ? Nes. Hold, I was coming to that : Have you any Estate ? Har. A very little one. Nes. Well, but when you are once settled in the Reputa- tion of a great Man, you will easily find Fools that will give you Credit ; some will be asham'd, and others afraid to deny you ; and there are a thousand Ways to delude Creditors. Har. I am not unacquainted with them. But they'll be very pressing, when they find nothing coming but Words. Nes. Nay, on the contrary, no Man has his Creditors more at Command, than he that owes Money to a great many. Har. How so ? Nes. First of all, your Creditor pays you that Observance, as if he was the Person obliged ; and is afraid lest he should give any Occasion of losing his Money. No Man has his Servants so much in Awe, as a Debtor his Creditor ; and if you ever pay them any Thing, it is more kindly taken than if you gave it them. Har. I have found it so. Nes. But you must take Care not to deal with little Peo- ple, for they'll make a great Noise for a small Matter ; those that have a more plentiful Fortune, are more easy to be ap- peas'd ; they will be restrain'd by Modesty, led on by Hope, or deterr'd by Fear, for they know the Danger of meddling with Men of Power. And last of all, when you're got over Head and Ears in Debt, then upon one Pretence or another remove your Quarters first to one Place, and then to an- other ; and you need not be asham'd of that, for no Body is more in Debt than great Princes. If you find yourself press'd by a Fellow of mean Condition, make as if you were provok'd by his Confidence ; but make a small Payment now and then, but never pay the whole Sum, nor to all your Creditors. But you must always take Care that none ever come to know that you have an empty Pocket ; always make a Shew of Money. Har. But what can a Man make a Shew of that has no- thing ? The False Knight. 1 8 7 Nes. If any Friend has given you any Thing to lay up for him, shew it as your own, but do it artfully, as if it were done by Chance. And it will be good in this Case to bor- row Money and shew it, tho' you pay it again presently. Pull a Couple of Guineas, that you have plac'd by them- selves, out of your Pocket, from a whole Pocket full of Coun- ters. You may imagine Har. I understand ye ; but at last I must of Necessity sink under my Debts. Nes. You know what Knights can do with us. Har. They do just what they please, and there's no Re- dress. Nes. Let those Servants you keep be such as are diligent ones, or some of your Kindred, such as must be kept how- ever. They'll stumble now and then upon some Merchant upon the Way, and rob him ; they'll find something in an Inn, a House, or a Boat that wants a Keeper ; they will re- member that a Man's Fingers were not given him for nothing. Har. Ay, if this could be done with Safety. Nes. You must take Care to keep them in handsome Liveries, and be still sending them with counterfeit Letters to this great Man, or the other. If they steal any Thing, altho' they should suspect them, no Body will dare to charge them with it, for Fear of the Knight their Master. If they chance to take a Booty by Force, 'tis as good as a Prize in War. Har. O brave Counsel ! Nes. This Maxim of Knighthood is always to be main- tain'd, That it is lawful for a Knight upon the Road, to ease a common Traveller of his Money ; for what can be more dishonourable, than for a pitiful Tradesman to have Money enough, and a Knight at the same Time wants it to spend upon his WhoreSjand at Dice ? Get as much as you can into the Company of great Men, tho' you pin yourself upon them ; and that you may not be asham'd of any Thing, you must put on a brazen Face, but especially to your Host. And it will be best for you to live in some publick Place, as at the Bath, and at the most frequented Inns. 1 88 Colloquies of Erasmus. Har. I was thinking of that. Nes. In such Places Fortune will oftentimes throw some Prey in the Way. Har. How ? I beseech you. Nes. Suppose one drops a Purse, another leaves the Key in the Door of his Store-House, or so, you take me in. Har. But Nes. What are you afraid of ? Who'll dare to suspect a Person that goes as you do, talks great, the Knight of the Golden-Rock ? If there shall happen to be any saucy Fellow, impudent enough to dare to suspect you, the Suspicion will rather be cast upon some Body that went away the Day be- fore. There will be a Disorder among the Master and the Servants, and do you behave yourself as a Person wholly unconcern'd. If this Accident befals either a Man of Mo- desty, or of Brains, he'll pass it over without making Words of it, lest he lose his Credit as well as his Money, for look- ing no better after it. Har. That's very Probable, for I suppose you know the Count of the White- Vulture. Nes. Why not ? Har. I have heard of a certain Spaniard, a handsome gen- teel Fellow, that lodg'd at his House, he carried away a Matter of six hundred Florins ; behaving himself with that State, that the Count never dar'd to open his Mouth against him. Nes. You have a Precedent then. You may now and then send out a Servant for a Soldier, and he having rifled Churches and Monasteries, will return loaden with the Plun- der that he has got by the Law of Arms. Har. This is the safest Expedient that we have had yet. Nes. There is yet another Way of getting Money. Har. Pray let me hear what that is. Nes. Pick a Quarrel with those that have a good Deal of Money, especially with Monks or Priests ; for the People generally look very invidiously upon them now-a-Days, viz. One broke a Jest upon you, another spit upon your Es- The False KnigkL 1 89 cutcheon, another spoke dishonourably of you ; one or the other wrote something that might be interpreted scandalous. Send your Heralds to declare an irreconcilable War. Breathe nothing but Destruction and Ruin : And they being terrified will come to you to make it up. Then see that you set a great Price upon your Dignity ; and that is, you must ask out of Reason, for your bearing that which is reasonable. If you make a Demand of three thousand Guineas, they will be asham'd to offer you less than two hundred. Har. And I will threaten others with the Law. Nes. That's more like a Sycophant ; but yet it may help in some Degree. But hark ye, Harpalus, I had almost for- got what I should have mention'd first : Some young Wench with a good Fortune is to be drawn into the Noose of Mat- rimony ; you have Charms in yourself, you're young and handsome, you're a Beau, and have a pretty smiling Coun- tenance ; give it out that you are call'd away to some great Office in the Emperor's Court Girls are fond of marrying Nobility. Har. I know some that have made their Fortunes this Way. But what if the Cheat should be discovered, and all my Creditors should fall upon me at once ? Then I, the sham Knight, shall become a Laughing-Stock ; for Creditors hate this Sort of Tricking worse than they do robbing of Churches. Nes. Why, in this Case you must remember to put on a brazen Face, and that Impudence never past so current for Wisdom, as it does now-a-Days. You must betake yourself to Invention for some Excuse ; and you will always find some easy People, that will favour it ; and some so civil, that if they perceive the Fallacy, they will not discover it. And last of all, if you can do nothing else, you must shew them a Pair of Heels, and run into the Army or a Riot : for as the Sea hides all Mischief, so War hides all Sins. And now-a-Days, he that has not been train'd up in this School, is not look'd upon fit to be a Commander. This must be your last Shift, when every Thing else fails 190 Colloquies of Erasmus. you ; but you must turn every Stone before you come to't. Take Care that you are not ruin'd by being bound for other Men. Shun little Towns that a Man can't let a Fart in, but the People must know it : In great and populous Cities a Man may take more Liberty, unless it be in such a Place as Marseilles. Make it your Business to know what People say of you ; and when you hear the People begin to talk at this Rate, What does this Man do here so long? why does he not go Home, and look after his Castles ? whence does he take his Pedigree ? whence does he get Money to live so extravagantly ? when you find that such Talk as this grows rife among the People, it is Time for you to think of pack- ing up your Awls, and be jogging in good Time ; but make your Retreat like a Lion, and not like a Hare. Pre- tend you are call'd away by the Emperor to some great Employment ; and that you shall return in a short Time at the Head of an Army. Those that have any Thing they are not willing to lose, won't dare to open their Mouths against you when you are gone. But above all, I advise you to have a Care of that peevish malicious Set of Men call'd Poets. If any Thing displeases them, they will envenom their Papers, and the Venom of them will be of a sudden diffused all the World over. Har. Let me die if I am not wonderfully pleas'd with your Counsel ; and I'll make it my Business to let you see that you have got a docible Scholar, and a Youth that is not ungrateful ; the first good Horse that I shall get into my Pasture, that is equal to your Deserts, I will present you with. Nes. Well, all that remains, is, that you be as good as your Word. But what is the Reason that you should be so fond of a false Opinion of Nobility ? Har. For no other Reason, but that they are in a Manner lawless, and do what they please. And do you think this a Matter of small Moment ? Nes. If the worst come that can come, Death is owing to Nature, altho' you liv'd a Carthusian ; and it is an easier The False Knight. 191 Death to be broken on the Wheel, than to die of the Stone, the Gout, or the Palsy : for it is like a Soldier to believe, that after Death there remains nothing of a Man but his Carcass. Har. And I am of that Opinion. The ARGUMENT. 6vp6v. Again, we see in the bending of the Knee a Vertebra, which, if I am not mistaken, they call icr^iW. And we also see something like this in the Hips, in the Shoulders, and, lastly, in the Joints of the Toes and Fingers. And, that it may not seem strange to you, the Greeks write, that the Word a aa-rpajakota-t ^o- Xo>0t9, when they would intimate that Persons were angry for a Trifle. Again Horace in his Odes has Nee regna vini sortiere tails. And also in his Sermones ; Te talos Aule nu- cesque, &c. And lastly, that Saying of the Lacedemonian, if I am not mistaken, Pueros esse fallendos talis, viros jureju- rando. They deny that the Talus is found in any Animal that is fjuevvxpv, that is, that has a solid Hoof, except the Indian Ass that has but one Horn ; or that is TroXucr^tSe?, that has its Foot divided into many Toes or Claws ; of which Sort are the Lion, the Panther, the Dog, the Ape, a Man, a Bird, and a great many others : But those Animals that are Si'^Xa, that have a Hoof divided into two, many of them have the Talus, and that, as you said very rightly, in their hinder Legs. Man only has not the Talus for two Reasons : First because he is two-footed ; and secondly, because his Foot is divided into five Toes. Qu. That I have heard often ; but I should be glad to hear 196 Colloquies of Erasmus. where the Talus was situated, and what Form it has de- scribed ; for that Sort of Play is quite out of Doors even with Girls now-a-Days, and they rather affect Dice, Cards, and other masculine Plays. Ch. That is not to be wonder'd at, when they affect Di- vinity itself : But if I were a Mathematician, or a Painter, or a Founder, I could not represent it more clearly to you, than by shewing you the Talus itself; unless you would have me describe it algebraically, as they do. Qu. Have you got e'er a Talus ? Ch. Here's one out of the right Leg of a Sheep, you see it has but four Sides, when a Cube and a Dice has six, four on the Sides, one at the Top, and one at the Bottom. Qu. It is so. Ch. And forasmuch as the upper and lower Part of the Talus is crooked, it has but four Sides, one of which, you see, rises like a Ridge. Qu. I see it. Ch. On the opposite Side there is a Hollow; this Aris- totle calls 7r/jai/e?, that is, prone ; and this VTTTIOV, that is, su- pine : as when in the Act of Copulation, for the Sake of Pro- creation, the Woman is supine, and the Man is prone : And the Hand, if the Palm of it be held towards the Ground, is prone ; if you turn it up, it is supine ; tho' Orators and Poets do sometimes confound the Use of these Words, but that is nothing to the Matter in Hand. Qu. You have demonstrated this very plainly to my Sight ; but what's the Difference between the two other Sides ? Ch. One of them is hollowed a little, to make it answer- able to the Bone to which it is joined ; the other has no Hollow at all to speak on, and is not so much defended with a cartilaginous Coat, but is only cover'd with a Nerve and a Skin. Qu. I see it very plain. Ch. The prone Side has no Nerves at all ; but to the Concavity of the supine Part a Nerve adheres, to the Top of the right Side and the Bottom of the left. TJte Play of Cockall. 197 Qu. You make it out very plain ; but how must I know the right Side from the left ? Ck. That's very well minded ; for I had instructed you very illy, except you suppose me to mean the Talus of the right Leg : I will tell you, and at the same Time I'll shew you the Situation of it, which you desired to know. The Talus is in that Bending of the Leg beneath the Hip. Qu. A great many are of Opinion it is near the Foot. Ch. They are under a Mistake : That which is properly call'd the Talus, is in the Bendings of the Joints, which the Greeks call /ca/xTra? ; but those of the hinder Legs, as I said before, between your Foot and your Knee, is the Tibia. Qu. Why, so I think. Ch. Behind the Knee, Kainrr). Qu. I allow it. Ch. For those Bendings which Men have in their Arms, four-footed Beasts have in their hinder Legs ; but I except the Ape, which is but half Man : and so that which is the Knee in the Leg, is the Elbow in the Arm. Qu. I take it in. Ch. And so one Bending answers to another. Qu. You mean of the fore Legs and the hinder Legs. Ch. You have it : So that in that Bending which answers to the Bending which is behind the Knee, the Talus stands upright when a four-footed Beast stands, the upper and lower Part of which is a little bended, but not altogether after the same Manner ; for the upper Part is folded back into a Sort of Horns, as it were, which Aristotle calls *e- pata? ; Theodorus translates the Word Antennas ; near to which the prone Side gives Way ; the Bottom has no such Thing. Qu. I perceive it very plainly. Ch. Therefore Aristotle calls that Side which is towards the fore Legs, supine ; and that which is contrary to it, prone. Again, there are two Sides, one of which inwardly, is towards the hinder Leg, either the right or left, suppose which you will ; the other looks outwards : that which looks 198 Colloquies of Erasmus. inwards Aristotle calls K>\OV, and that which looks outwards, Qu. I see it plainly with my Eyes : but still here's this to be done, to inform me what was the antient Manner of play- ing with these Tali : for the Play, as it is us'd now-a-Days, is quite different from what we find in antient Authors con- cerning this Sort of Play. Ch. And truly that's very likely, as we in like Manner now pervert the Use of Cards and Dice from the antient Manner of playing with them. Qu. What you say is very probable. Ch. Theodorus Gaza, or as others rather chuse to call him, of Thessalonica, in translating Aristotle's second Book of his History of Animals, says, That the Side of the Talus that looks outwardly transverse, was call'd Canis ; and that which looks inwardly to the other Leg, Venus : and then he adds to it this of his own, for Aristotle said no more; To fiev irpaves e&>, TO Se VTTTIOV e'laco, KOI ra fjiev Kw\a evros etrrpa/jL^eva ?rpo9 a\\rj\a, ra Se Icr^la ica\ov/jLva e&>, KOL ra? icepaias avo). But since it is certain that the Throw is call'd Venus' s by other Persons, as often as in four Dice the uppermost Sides of them all are different one from another ; I wonder by what Example Theodorus calls one Side Venus. Our Eras- mus, who is our common Friend, who is no negligent Ob- server of these Things, in some of his Proverbs upon the Authority of the Antients, intimates some Things of the Play of the Tali ; as in the Proverb, Non Chius sed Cous ; he says, that the Cous and the Size were the same that the Greeks call'd egiTtjv. He relates the same in the Proverb Chius ad Cous, (adding, that Chius was the same with Canis, the Ace?) That the Cast of the Cous was a lucky Cast, but of the Canis an unlucky one, according to the Testimony of Persius. -- Quid dexter Senio ferret Scire erat in votis, damnosa canicula quantum Raderet. - -- And likewise Propertius ; The Play of Cockall. 1 99 Semper damnosi subsiluere canes. And Ovid, in his second Book de Tristibus, calls them, damnosos canes. And Martial adds, that the Size by itself is a lucky Cast ; but if an Ace comes up with it, unlucky ; for so he speaks, Senio nee nostrum cum Cane quassat ebur. And now as to Venus's Cast, as it is what happens but very seldom, so it is a very lucky Throw: As Martial writes in his Apopfwreta ; Cum steterit vultu nullus tibi talus fodem, Munera me dices magna dedisse tibi. For they play'd with so many Tali as every one had Sides : for as to Dice, they used to play but with three. But that which Suetonius writes of Octavius Augustus comes nearer to the Method of Play, reciting out of a certain Epistle of his to Tiberius ; At Supper we play'd, both Yesterday and to Day, like old, grave Men, at Tali: And as every one threw an Ace or a Size, he laid down a Piece of Money for every Talus ; and he that threw Venus took up all. Qu. You told me before, that it was a very fortunate Throw when any one threw four different Sides, as at Dice- Play the most fortunate Cast is Midas ; but you did not tell me that this Cast was call'd Venus. Ch. Lucian will make that Matter plain to you : Thus speaking concerning Cupids, KOI ftakiav fiev eVt CTKOTTOV, JJM- \icrra 8e et Trore rrjv Oeov avTrjv eu/SoA^erete. My&evbs aarrpa-