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Title: Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I.

Author: Erasmus

Release Date: November 12, 2004 [EBook #14031]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS, VOLUME I. ***




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Proofreading Team.






The Colloquies of Erasmus.

TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY.

_Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M.A._

VOL. I.

LONDON: 1878.




CONTENTS.

VOL. I.

_Prefatory Note_
_Dedication_
_Admonitory Note_
_To the Divines of_ Louvain
_Copy of_ Bailey's _Title_
Bailey's _Preface_
_Life of_ Erasmus
_Courtesy in Saluting_
_Family Discourse_
_Of Rash Vows_
_Of Benefice-Hunters_
_Of a Soldier's Life_
_The Commands of a Master_
_The School-master's Admonitions_
_Of Various Plays_
_The Child's Piety_
_The Art of Hunting_
_Scholastic Studies_
_The Profane Feast_
_The Religious Treat_
_The Apotheosis of_ Capnio
_A Lover and Maiden_
_The Virgin Averse to Matrimony_
_The Penitent Virgin_
_The Uneasy Wife_
_The Soldier and Carthusian_
Philetymus _and_ Pseudocheus
_The Shipwreck_
_Diversoria_
_Young Man and Harlot_
_The Poetical Feast_
_An Enquiry concerning Faith_
_The Old Mens Dialogue_
_The Franciscans,_ [Greek: Ptochoplousioi], _or Rich Beggars_
_The Abbot and Learned Woman_
_The Epithalamium of Petrus AEgidius_
_The Exorcism or Apparition_
_The Alchymist_
_The Horse-Cheat_
_The Beggars' Dialogue_
_The Fabulous Feast_
_The Lying-in Woman_




Prefatory Note.

The present English version of Erasmus' _Colloquies_ is a reprint of the
translation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. In
his Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation as
might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original,
endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close to
the original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the
English Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure that
Erasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin."

This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chief
peculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic and
proverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases and
allusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogous
English forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographical
studies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words and
phrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construes
Erasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than the
original. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has a
certain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest even
by those who are familiar with the original.

In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefully
revised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty has
not been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removing
the coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which he
exaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling is
jealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations.

Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation has
been closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracies
on Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at the
end of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes its
language, has in many of these notes been given, with the view of
increasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainder
of the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneous
character: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, of
course, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed to
afford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may be
intelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to some
extent to the scholar.

The Colloquies of Erasmus form a rich quarry of intellectual material,
from which each student will extract that which he regards to be of
peculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life and
manners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all find
themselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many who
at the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of a
book which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on its
appearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the making
of history.

It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editor
undertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as to
space and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea of
what the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting in
accuracy, however falling short of completeness.

The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed by
the Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Froben
has been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_,
not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon the
history or contents of the book.




DEDICATION.


_D. ERASMUS_ Rot.

TO

_JOHN ERASMIUS FROBEN_,

_A Boy of Excellent Promise: Greeting._


The Book dedicated to you has surpassed my expectation, my dearest
Erasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappoint
my expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seize
upon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has had
repeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You might
say it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, who
foster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you also
may be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning and
probity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep cause
for shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latin
scholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profit
should not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. And
since there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of the
Colloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your fault
the fact should seem that you could not thank me on the same account?
The little book has increased to the fair size of a volume. You must
also endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in sound
learning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed upon
you: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would be
glorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannot
without the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your course
thus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring the
runner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrived
at an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life for
imbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, that
these Colloquies may be truly called yours.

The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from all
pollutions, and ever lead you on to better things! Farewell.

BASIL, _August 1st._, 1524.




AN ADMONITORY NOTE OF ERASMUS ON THE TRICKS AND IMPOSTURES OF A CERTAIN
DOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS
RIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF.

_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collected
partly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture of
certain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in bad
Latin,--perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderful
applause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I was
compelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, having
applied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that the
book might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of the
honour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy then
six years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done in
the year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receives
addition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made an
addition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but so
tempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, and
their use in polishing the style, they might also contain that which
would conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I have
referred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read with
wonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, it
could not escape [Greek: ton sykophanton degmata]. A certain divine of
Louvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in it
four heretical passages. There was also another incident connected with
this work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certain
passages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attack
monks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kind
which, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source of
more plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this so
stupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some street
buffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certain
divine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it to
add his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to have
suppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would rather
look for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in my
name, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction of
one boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. He
represents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and in
piety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling of
certain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know that
some will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such a
hater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and most
accomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he represents
me as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter of
Jerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letter
under his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he was
made to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falsely
translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would have
succeeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, had
they been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style.
Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurable
roguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is more
rascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting in
power to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up to
Erasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowery
preface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life is
still spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest those
who follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul!

_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunk
from interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself in
a most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment of
divines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whom
he supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detect
the patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does he
everywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, the
Colleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anything
uncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it to
the British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added some
odious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatred
against me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It is
needless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makes
additions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud,
rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rooting
up everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made by
me are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchman
you are turned into a Gaul,'[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I a
Capon then, when I went hence?': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you are
turned into a Briton. What? was I a Saxon, then, when I went hence?'
_Again, when the same speaker had said_, 'Your garb shows that you are
changed from a Batavian into a Gaul,' _he puts_ 'Briton' _for_ 'Gaul';
_and when the speaker had replied_, 'I had rather that metamorphosis,
than into a Hen,' _alluding to_ 'Cock:' _he changed_ 'Hen' _into_
'Bohemian.' _Presently, when there is a joke_, 'that he pronounces Latin
in French style,' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British,' _and yet
allows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses,
because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to the
British. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls'
_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle?' _he thus spoils
the joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to war
with the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war.
Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations does
not hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'Is
Paris free from the plague?' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from the
plague?' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraid
to cut up this capon?' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes no
alteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg?' _Forsooth,
although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired to
sit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal mind
a cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in my
text_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books of
one Cicero.' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of the
contents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my text
rallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless puts
faith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess that
he, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope's
indulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speaker
as recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wants
to appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just as
if one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in the
human body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should cure
the wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made to
God is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confession
which is made to the priest is the best.' _Thus did he take care for
imperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sake
of example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. And
these answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my name
in his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing a
palinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in that
work of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For it
does not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, as
burdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publish
anything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of this
kind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who is
slandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divine
when his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theological
science. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his lies
upon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as to
be willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder at
the incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was a
chick who once upon a time fell out of a nest at Berne, entirely [Greek:
hek kakistou korakost kakiston hoon]. This I am astonished at, if the
report is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those who
pride themselves on having at length secured a man who by the
thunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party of
Luther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrote
also against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that they
are slandered by me, who aid their studies in so many night-watches;
while they themselves willingly embrace monsters of this description,
who bring more dishonour to the order of divines and even of monks,
than any foe, however foul-mouthed, can do. He who has audacity for such
an act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And these
things are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even the
Gospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty.

This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, is
issued in the month of September, 1524._


[Footnote A: Gallus: meaning also a Cock.]

[Footnote B: _Immunis_ instead of _immune_ agreeing with Londinum.]


       *       *       *       *       *

_From a letter of Erasmus dated 5th Oct. 1532, we gather some further
particulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name was
Lambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing a
garbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending to
be a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soon
stolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, and
would have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowl
saved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been proved
against him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think,
Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers,--his cowl thrown aside, teaching the
Gospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellow
out. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. And
this sort of plague spreads from day to day."_




#ERASMUS ROTERODAMUS# TO THE _DIVINES OF LOUVAIN_,


_His dearly beloved brethren in the Lord, greeting._

A matter has been brought to my knowledge, not only by rumour, but by
the letters of trustworthy friends, expressly stating in what words, in
what place, a calumny was directed against me in our midst, through the
agency of a well-known person, who is ever true to himself; whose very
character and former doings lead one to assume as ascertained fact what
in another would have been but probable. Accordingly, I thought I ought
to make no concealment of the matter; especially from you, whose part it
was to restrain the unbridled impudence of the fellow, if not for my
sake, at all events for that of your Order.

He boasts and vociferates that in the book of Colloquies there are four
passages more than heretical: concerning the _Eating of meats_ and
_Fasting_, concerning _Indulgences_, and concerning _Vows_, Although
such be his bold and impudent assertion, whoever reads the book in its
entirety will find the facts to be otherwise. If, however, leisure be
wanting for the reading of trifles of this description, I will briefly
lay the matter open. But before I approach it, I think well to make
three prefatory remarks.

First, in this matter contempt of the Emperor's edict[C] cannot be laid
to my charge. For I understand it was published May 6th, 1522, whereas
this book was printed long before: and that at Basle, where no Imperial
edict had up to the time been made known, whether publicly or privately.

[Footnote C: Edict of the Emperor Charles V.: 1523.]

Secondly, although in that book I do not teach dogmas of Faith, but
formulae for speaking Latin; yet there are matters intermixed by the
way, which conduce to good manners. Now if, when a theme has been
previously written down in German or French, a master should teach his
boys to render the sense in Latin thus: _Utinam nihil edant praeter
allia, qui nobis hos dies pisculentos invexerunt_. ("Would they might
eat naught but garlic, who imposed these fish-days upon us.") Or this:
_Utinam inedia pereant, qui liberos homines adigunt ac jejunandi
necessitatem_. ("Would they might starve to death, who force the
necessity of fasting on free men.") Or this: _Digni sunt ut fumo pereant
qui nobis Dispensationum ad Indulgentiarum fumos tam care vendunt_.
("They deserve to be stifled to death who sell us the smokes (pretences)
of dispensations and indulgences at so dear a rate.") Or this: _Utinam
vere castrentur, qui nolentes arcent a matrimonio_. ("Would they might
indeed be made eunuchs of, who keep people from marrying, against their
will")--I ask, whether he should be forced to defend himself, for having
taught how to turn a sentence, though of bad meaning, into good Latin
words? I think there is no one so unjust, as to deem this just.

Thirdly, I had in the first instance to take care what sort of person it
should be to whom I ascribe the speech in the dialogue. For I do not
there represent a divine preaching, but good fellows having a gossip
together. Now if any one is so unfair as to refuse to concede me the
quality of the person represented, he ought, by the same reasoning, to
lay it to my charge, that there one Augustine (I think) disparages the
Stoics' principle of the _honestum_, and prefers the sect of the
Epicureans, who placed the highest good in pleasure. He may also bring
it against me, that in that passage a soldier, amongst many things which
he speaks about in true soldier-fashion, says that he will look for a
priest to confess to, who shall have as little of good as possible about
him. The same objector would, I imagine, bring it up against me, were I
to ascribe to Arius in a dialogue a discourse at variance with the
Church. If such charges against me would be absurd, why in other matters
should not regard be had to the quality of the person speaking? Unless
perchance, were I to represent a Turk speaking, they should decide to
lay at my door whatever he might say.

With this preface, I will make a few general remarks on the passages
criticised by the person to whom I refer. In the first passage, a boy of
sixteen years says that he confesses only sins that are unquestionably
capital, or gravely suspected; while the Lutherans teach, as I
understand, that it is not necessary to confess all capital offences.
Thus the very facts show, that this boy's speech is in great
disagreement with the dogma which you condemn. Presently, the same boy
being asked, whether it be sufficient to confess to Christ himself,
answers that it will satisfy his mind, if the fathers of the Church were
of the same opinion. From this my critic argues, not with dialectic art,
but with rascally cunning, that I suggest that this _Confession_ which
we now practise was not instituted by Christ, but by the leaders of the
Church. Such an inference might appear sound, were not Christ one of the
Primates of the Church, since according to Peter's saying He is Chief
Shepherd, and according to the word of the Gospel, Good Shepherd.
Therefore he who speaks of princes of the Church, does not exclude
Christ, but includes Him along with the Apostles, and the successors of
the Apostles, in the same manner as he who names the principal members
of the body does not exclude the head. But if any one shall deem this
reply to savour of artifice: well now, let us grant that the boy was
thinking of pure men, heads of the Church: is it then not enough for the
boy that he follows in the matter of confession their authority, even
although he is not assured whether the Popes could ordain this on their
own authority, or handed it down to us from the ordinance of Christ? For
he has a mind to obey, in whatever way they have handed it down. I am
not even myself fully convinced as yet, that the Church defined the
present practice of Confession to be of Christ's ordinance. For there
are very many arguments, to me in fact insoluble, which persuade to the
contrary. Nevertheless, I entirely submit this feeling of my own to the
judgment of the Church. Gladly will I follow it, so soon as on my watch,
for certainty I shall have heard its clear voice. Nay, had Leo's Bull
given the fullest expression of this doctrine, and any one should either
be ignorant of it, or should have forgotten it, it would meanwhile
suffice (I imagine) to obey in this matter the authority of the Church,
with a disposition of obedience, should the point be established. Nor in
truth can it be rightly inferred, _This Confession is of human
ordinance, therefore Christ is not its Author_. The Apostles laid down
the discipline of the Church, without doubt from Christ's ordinances:
they ordained Baptism, they ordained Bishops, &c., but by the authority
of Christ. And yet it cannot be denied, that many particulars of this
Confession depend on the appointment of the Pontiffs, viz., that we
confess once a year, at Easter, to this or that priest; that any priest
absolves us from any trespasses whatever. Hence I judge it to be clear
how manifest is the calumny in what relates to _Confession_.

Further, no mention is there made of _fasting_, to which the Gospel and
the Apostolic epistles exhort us, but _concerning the choice of foods_,
which Christ openly sets at naught in the Gospel, and the Pauline
epistles not seldom condemn; especially that which is Jewish and
superstitious. Some one will say, this is to accuse the Roman Pontiff
who teaches that which the Apostle condemns. What the Gospel teaches,
is perfectly plain. The Pontiff himself must declare with what intention
he commands what the Gospel does not require. Yet no one there
says--what I know not whether Luther teaches--that the constitutions of
the Pontiffs do not render us liable to guilt, unless there has been
contempt besides. In fact, he who speaks in that passage grants that the
Pope may appoint an observance; he simply enquires, whether this were
the intention of the Pope, to bind all equally to abstinence from meats,
so that one who should partake would be liable to hell-fire, even
although no perverse contempt should be committed. And he who says this
in the Colloquies, adds that he hates fishes not otherwise than he does
a serpent. Now, there are some so affected that fish is poison to them,
just as there are found those who in like manner shrink from wine. If
one who is thus affected with regard to fishes, should be forbidden to
feed on flesh and milk-food, will he not be hardly treated? Is it
possible that any man can desire him to be exposed to the pains of hell,
if for the necessity of his body he should live on flesh? If any
constitution of Popes and Bishops involves liability to the punishment
of hell, the condition of Christians is hard indeed. If some impose the
liability, others not; no one will better declare his intention than the
Pope himself. And it would conduce to the peace of consciences to have
it declared. What if some Pope should decree that priests should go
girt; would it be probable that he declared this with the intention that
if one because of renal suffering should lay aside the girdle, he should
be liable to hell? I think not. St. Gregory laid down, That if any one
had had intercourse with his wife by night, he should abstain the next
day from entering church: in this case, supposing that a man, concealing
the fact of intercourse having taken place, should have gone to church
for no other reason than that he might hear the preaching of the Gospel,
would he be liable to hell? I do not think the holiest man could be so
harsh. If a man with a sick wife should live on meat, because otherwise
she could not be provoked to eat, and her health required food, surely
the Pope would not on that account determine him to be liable to hell!
This matter is simply made a subject of enquiry in the passage referred
to, and no positive statement is made. And certainly before the Imperial
Edict, men were at liberty to enquire concerning these matters.

In point of fact, neither in that place nor elsewhere do I absolutely
condemn the _Indulgences_ of the Popes, although hitherto more than
sufficient indulgence has been shown them. It is simply that a speaker
ridicules his comrade, who, although in other respects the most
frivolous of triflers (for so he is depicted), yet believed that by the
protection of a Bull he would get safely to heaven. So far from thinking
this to be heretical, I should imagine there was no holier duty than to
warn the people not to put their trust in Bulls, unless they study to
change their life and correct their evil desires.

But _Vows_ are ridiculed in that passage. Yes, they are ridiculed, and
those (of whom there is a vast multitude) are admonished, who, leaving
wife and children at home, under a vow made in their cups, run off along
with a few pot-companions to Rome, Compostella, or Jerusalem. But, as
manners now are, I think it a holier work to dissuade men altogether
from such Vows than to urge to the making of them.

These, forsooth, are the execrable heresies which yonder Lynceus
descries in the Puerile Colloquy. I wonder why he does not also give my
Catunculus and the Publian mimes[D] a dusting. Who does not perceive
that these attacks proceed from some private grudge? Yet in nothing have
I done him an injury, except that I have favoured good literature, which
he hates more than sin; and knows not why. Meantime he boasts that he
too has a weapon, by which he may take his revenge. If a man at a feast
calls him Choroebus or a drunkard, he in his turn will in the pulpit cry
heretic, or forger, or schismatic upon him. I believe, if the cook were
to set burnt meat on the dinner-table, he would next day bawl out in the
course of his sermon that she was suspected of heresy. Nor is he
ashamed, nor does he retreat, though so often caught, by the very facts,
in manifest falsehood.

[Footnote D: Publius Syrus (B.C. 45), a writer of _mimes_, or familiar
prose dramas. A collection of apophthegms from his works is said to have
been used as a school-book in Jerome's days.]

In the first place what a foolish, what a mad blather he made against my
revised New Testament! Next, what could be more like madness than that
remark which he threw out against J. Faber and myself, when the very
facts bespoke that he did not understand what agreement there was
between me and Faber, or what was the subject of controversy! What more
shameless than his fixing a charge of forgery and heresy in the course
of a public address on me, because I rendered according to the Greek:
Omnes quidem non resurgemus, sed omnes immutabimur ("We shall not all
rise again, but we shall all be changed.") What more like a raging
madman, then his warning the people at Mechlin, in a public address, to
beware of the heresy of Luther and Erasmus! Why should I now recall the
ravings that he belches out rather than utters in the midst of his high
feasting as often as his zeal for the house of the Lord is inflamed from
his cups? He lately said in Holland, that I was set down for a forger
among the divines of Louvain. (One who was present and heard it wrote to
me.) When asked, Why? Because, says he, he so often corrects the New
Testament! What a dolt of a tongue! Jerome so often corrected the
Psalter: is he therefore a forger? In short if he is a forger, who
either rashly or from ignorance translates anything otherwise than it
should be, he was a forger, whose translation we use at the present day
in the Church. But what good does this sort of behavior do him? All men
laugh at him as a Morychus,[E] shun him as a crackbrain,--get out of
his way as a peevish fellow you can do nothing with. Nor can they think
ill of him, of whom he says such spiteful things. And though he
displeases all, himself alone he cannot displease.

[Footnote E: Lit.: One stained or smeared: an epithet of Bacchus
(Dionysos) in Sicily, "smeared with wine-lees." ([Greek: morysso].)]

This doubtless he holds to be an Imperial edict, that he with raging
insolence of tongue should rave at whomsoever he pleases. Thus does this
wise and weighty man support the interests of the orthodox faith. This
is not a zeal of God, to hurt the harmless; but it is a rage of the
devil. The Jewish zeal of Phinehas was once extolled, but not that it
might pass as a pattern with Christians. And yet Phinehas openly slew
impious persons. To your colleague whatever he hates is Lutheran and
heretical. In the same way, I suppose, he will call small-beer, flat
wine, and tasteless broth, Lutheran. And the Greek tongue, which is his
_unique_ aversion,--I suppose for this reason, that the Apostles
dignified it with so great an honour as to write in no other,--will be
called Lutheran. Poetic art, for he hates this too, being fonder of the
_potatic_, will be Lutheran.

He complains that his authority is lessened by our means, and that he is
made a laughing-stock in my writings. The fact is, he offers himself as
an object of ridicule to all men of education and sense; and this
without end. I _repel slander_. But if learned and good men think ill of
_a man_ who directs a slander at one who has not deserved it, which is
it fair to consider the accountable person, he who rightly repels what
he ought not to acknowledge, or he who injuriously sets it afoot? If a
man were to be laughed at for saying that asses in Brabant have wings,
would he not himself make the laughing-matter? He cries out that _the
whole of Luther is in my books_, that on all sides they swarm with
heretical errors. But when those who read my writings find nothing of
the kind, even if ignorant of dialectics, they readily infer the true
conclusion. He has authority from the Emperor. Let him therefore conduct
himself in the spirit of the Emperor, who would rather that wrong-doers
should be cured than punished, and certainly does not desire that the
harmless should be injured. He has entrusted this function to a man he
did not know; when he shall have ascertained the fellow's character, he
will doubtless recall what he has entrusted. It is not the disposition
of the mildest of Emperors, nor of the most upright of Popes, that those
who spend their night-watches in studying how to adorn and assist the
State, should be exposed to the spite of such men; even although there
were some human infirmity in the case. So far are they from desiring to
estrange good and honest men, and force them to take a different side.

These matters are more your concern than mine. For this man's manners
invite much discredit upon your order, while the mass of the people
judge of you all by this one sample. Unjustly so, I admit; but so the
world wags. And the harshness of your brother estranges no small number
from the study of divinity. I know that the man is utterly disliked by
you, with the exception of two or three boon companions, and one old
hand, who abuses the man's folly in the interests of his own lusts. But
all would definitely understand that you disapprove of him, if, since he
cannot be restrained, you were to expel him from your table. I well know
such a step will be very difficult to take. For men of his stamp are
reluctantly torn away from the smell of stated, sumptuous, and free
repasts. Nevertheless this concerns the honour of your Order, towards
which I have good reason to be well-disposed. Farewell.

Supposed to have been written in 1531.




ALL THE

#Familiar Colloquies#

OF

_#Desiderius Erasmus#_,

OF

#ROTERDAM,#

Concerning Men, Manners, and Things, translated into _English_.

       *       *       *       *       *

By N. BAILEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Unlike in Method, with conceal'd Design,
  Did crafty _Horace_ his low Numbers join;
  And, with a sly insinuating Grace,
  Laugh'd at his Friend, and look'd him in the Face:
  Would raise a Blush, when secret Vice he found;
  And tickled, while he gently prob'd the Wound:
  With seeming Innocence the Crowd beguil'd;
  But made the desperate Passes, when he smil'd.

_Persius Sat. I. Dryden_.

       *       *       *       *       *

_LONDON_

1725.




#THE PREFACE.#

_There are two Things I would take some Notice of: The first relates to
my Author, and the second to myself, or the Reasons why I have attempted
this Translation of him. And in speaking of the first, I presume I shall
save myself much of what might be said as to the second. Tho'_ Erasmus
_is so well known, especially to those versed in the_ Latin _Tongue,
that there seems to be but little Occasion to say any Thing in his
Commendation; yet since I have taken upon me to make him an_
English-man, _give me Leave to say, that in my Opinion, he as well
deserves this Naturalization, as any modern Foreigner whose Works are
in_ Latin, _as well for the Usefulness of the Matter of his Colloquies,
as the Pleasantness of Style, and Elegancy of the_ Latin.

_They are under an egregious Mistake, who think there is nothing to be
found in them, but Things that savour of Puerility, written indeed
ingeniously, and in elegant_ Latin. _For this Book contains, besides
those, Things of a far greater Concern; and indeed, there is scarce any
Thing wanting in them, fit to be taught to a_ Christian _Youth design'd
for liberal Studies.

The Principles of Faith are not only plainly and clearly laid down, but
establish'd upon their own firm and genuine Basis. The Rules of Piety,
Justice, Charity, Purity, Meekness, Brotherly Concord, the Subjection
due to Superiors, are so treated of, that, in a Word, scarce any Thing
is omitted that belongs to a Man, a Subject, or a Christian.

Neither are those Things omitted, which respect a Medium of Life, by
which every one may chuse out safely what Ratio of Life he has most Mind
to, and by which he may be taught, not only Civility and Courtesy, but
also may know how to behave himself in the World, so as to gain himself
the good Will of many, and, a good Name among all, and may be able to
discern the Follies and Childishnesses of Fools, and the Frauds and
Villanies of Knaves, so as to guard against 'em all.

And neither are there wanting Sketches, and that ample ones too, of
Poetical Story, or Pagan Theology, universal History, sacred and
profane, Poetry, Criticism, Logick, Natural and Moral Philosophy,
Oeconomics and Politics; to which are added, a good Number of Proverbs
and Apothegms used by the most celebrated of the Antients.

But there is one Thing in an especial Manner, that should recommend this
Book to all_ Protestants _in general, and cause them to recommend it to
be read by their Children, that there is no Book fitter for them to
read, which does in so delightful and instructing a Manner utterly
overthrow almost all the Popish Opinions and Superstitions, and erect in
their Stead, a Superstructure of Opinions that are purely Protestant.

And notwithstanding whatsoever_ Erasmus _hath said in his Apology
concerning the Utility of his Colloquies, that he could say with
Modesty, according to his wonted Dexterity, to temper, and alleviate the
Bitterness of the Wormwood that he gave the_ Papists _to drink in the
Colloquies, it is past a Question, that he lays down a great many Things
agreeable to the_ Protestant _Hypothesis, so that (if you except
Transubstantiation) he reprehends, explodes and derides almost all the_
Popish _Opinions, Superstitions and Customs.

Therefore if this golden Book be read with Attention, I doubt not but it
will plainly appear, that the Scripture was in all Things preferr'd by
the Author before them all; and that he accounted that alone truly
infallible, and of irrefragable Authority, and did not account the
Councils, Popes or Bishops so.

And as to the praying to Saints, it was his Opinion, the christian World
would be well enough without it, and that he abhor'd that common Custom
of asking unworthy Things of them, and flying to them for Refuge more
than to the Father and Christ.

That he look'd upon all external Things of very small Account, of
whatsoever Species they were: Either the Choice of Meats, Processions,
Stations, and innumerable other Ordinances and Ceremonies, and that they
were in themselves unprofitable, although he, for the sake of Peace and
Order, did conform himself to all harmless Things that publick Authority
had appointed. Not judging those Persons, who out of a Scrupulousness
of Conscience thought otherwise, but wishing that those in Authority
would use their Power with more Mildness.

And that he esteem'd, as Trifles and Frauds, the Community of good
Works, of all Men whatsoever, or in any Society whatsoever; that he
abhor'd the Sale of Pardons for Sins, and derided the Treasury of
Indulgences, from whence it is a plain Inference, that he believ'd
nothing of Purgatory.

And that he more than doubted, whether auricular Confession was
instituted by Christ or the Apostles; and he plainly condemns
Absolution, and laugh'd at the giving it in an unknown Tongue. From
whence we may fairly infer, that he was against having the Liturgy
(which ought to be read to Edification) in an unknown Tongue. But he
either thought it not safe, or not convenient, or at least not
absolutely necessary to speak his Mind plainly as to that Matter.

Likewise, he particularly laugh'd at all the Species of popular and
monastical Piety; such as Prayers repeated over and over, without the
Mind, but recited by a certain Number with their_ Rosaries, _and_
Ave-Maria's, _by which, God being neglected, they expected to obtain all
Things, though none were particularly nam'd: Their_ tricenary, _and_
anniversary Masses, _nay, and all those for the Dead: The dying and
being buried in a_ Franciscan's _and_ Dominican's _Garment or Cowl, and
all the Trumpery belonging to it; and did, in a manner condemn all Sorts
of Monastical Life and Order, as practis'd among the Papists.

He shews it likewise to have been his Opinion, as to the Reliques of_
Christ, _and he and she Saints, that he judg'd the Worship of them a
vain and foolish Thing, and believ'd no Virtue to be in any of them,
nay, that the most, if not all of them, were false and counterfeit.

And to crown the Whole, he did not spare that beloved Principle and
Custom of the Papists, so zealously practis'd by them upon Protestants,
viz. the Persecution and Burning of Hereticks.

And now, of how much Use and Advantage such Things, and from such a
Person as_ Erasmus, _may be, and how much they may conduce to the
extirpating those Seeds of Popery, that may have been unhappily sown, or
may be subtilly instill'd into the Minds of uncautious Persons, under
the specious Shew of Sanctity, will, I presume, easily appear. Tho' the
Things before-mention'd may be Reason sufficient for the turning these
Colloquies of_ Erasmus _into_ English, _that so useful a Treatise may
not be a Book seal'd, either to Persons not at all, or not enough
acquainted with the_ Latin _tongue, as to read them with Edification;
yet I did it from another Motive,_ i.e. _the Benefit of such as having
been initiated, desire a more familiar Acquaintance with the_ Latin
_Tongue (as to the Speaking Part especially, to which_ Erasmus's
_Colloquies are excellently adapted) that by comparing this Version with
the Original, they may be thereby assisted, to more perfectly
understand, and familiarize themselves with those Beauties of the_ Latin
_Language, in which_ Erasmus _in these Colloquies abounds.

And for that End, I have labour'd to give such a Translation of them, as
might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original,
endeavouring to avoid running into a Paraphrase: But keeping as close to
the Original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the_
English _Idiom, and so depriving the_ English _Reader of that Pleasure,
that_ Erasmus _so plentifully entertains his Reader with in_ Latin.

_It is true, Sir_ Roger l'Estrange _and Mr._ Tho. Brown, _have formerly
done some select Colloquies, and Mr._ H.M. _many years since has
translated the whole; but the former being rather Paraphrases than
Translations, are not so capable of affording the Assistance
before-mention'd; and as to the latter, besides that his Version is
grown very scarce, the Style is not only antient, but too flat for so
pleasant and facetious an Author as_ Erasmus _is_.

_I do not pretend to have come up in my_ English, _to that Life and
Beauty of_ Erasmus _in Latin, which as it is often inimitable in the_
English _Language, so it is also a Task fit to be undertaken by none but
an_ English Erasmus _himself_, i.e. _one that had the same Felicity of
Expression that he had; but I hope it will appear that I have kept my
Author still in my Eye, tho' I have followed him_ passibus haud aequis,
_and could seldom come up to him. I shall not detain you any longer; but
subscribe my self, yours to serve you_,

_Jan. 25th_, N. BAILEY. 1724-5.




_The_ LIFE _of_ ERASMUS.

_DESIDERIUS Erasmus_, surnamed _Roterodamus_, was born at _Roterdam_, a
Town of _Holland_, on the Vigil of _Simon and Jude_, or _October_ the
20th or 28th, 1465, according to his Epitaph at _Basil_; or according to
the Account of his life, _Erasmo Auctore, circa annum, &c._ about the
Year 1467, which agrees with the Inscription of his Statue at
_Roterdam_, which being the Place of his Nativity, may be suppos'd to be
the most authentick. His Mother's Name was _Margaret_, the Daughter of
one _Peter_, a Physician of _Sevenbergen_. His Father's Name was
_Gerard_, who carried on a private Correspondence with her, upon Promise
of Marriage; and as it should seem from the Life which has _Erasmus's_
Name before it, was actually contracted to her, which seems plainly to
be insinuated by these Words; _Sunt qui intercessisse verba ferunt_:
However, it is not to be denied that _Erasmus_ was born out of Wedlock,
and on that Account, Father _Theophilus Ragnaud_, has this pleasant
Passage concerning him: _If one may be allow'd to droll upon a Man, that
droll'd upon all the World_, Erasmus, _tho' he was not the Son of a
King, yet he was the Son of a crown'd Head_, meaning a Priest. But in
this he appears to have been mistaken, in that his Father was not in
Orders when he begat him. His Father _Gerard_ was the Son of one
_Elias_, by his Mother _Catherine_, who both liv'd to a very advanc'd
Age; _Catherine_ living to the Age of 95. _Gerard_ had nine Brethren by
the same Father and Mother, without one Sister coming between them; he
himself was the youngest of the ten, and liv'd to see two of his
Brothers at _Dort_ in _Holland_, near 90 Years of Age each. All his
Brothers were married but himself; and according to the Superstition of
those Times, the old People had a mind to consecrate him to God, being a
tenth Child, and his Brothers lik'd the Motion well enough, because by
that Means they thought they should have a sure Friend, where they might
eat and drink, and be merry upon Occasion. They being all very pressing
upon him to turn Ecclesiastick, (which was a Course of Life that he had
no Inclination to,) _Gerard_ finding himself beset on all Sides, and by
their universal Consent excluded from Matrimony, resolving not to be
prevail'd upon by any Importunities, as desperate Persons do, fled from
them, and left a Letter for his Parents and Brothers upon the Road,
acquainting them with the Reason of his Elopement, bidding them an
eternal Farewell, telling them he would never see them more. He
prosecuted his Journey to _Rome_, leaving _Margaret_, his Spouse that
was to be, big with Child of _Erasmus. Gerard_ being arriv'd at _Rome_,
betook himself to get his Living by his Pen, (by transcribing Books)
being an excellent Penman; and there being at that Time a great deal of
that Sort of Business to do (for as the Life that is said to be _Erasmo
Auctore_ has it, _tum nondum ars typographorum erat_, i.e. _The Art of
Printing was not then found out_; which was a Mistake, for it had been
found out twenty-four Years before, in the Year 1442. But perhaps the
Meaning may be, tho' it was found out, it was not then commonly used) he
got Money plentifully, and for some Time, as young Fellows us'd to do,
liv'd at large; but afterwards apply'd himself in good Earnest to his
Studies, made a considerable Progress in the _Latin_ and _Greek_
Tongues, which was very much facilitated by his Employment of
transcribing Authors, which could not but strongly impress them on his
Memory; and he had also another great Advantage, in that a great many
learned Men then flourish'd at _Rome_ and he heard particularly one
_Guarinus_. But to return to _Erasmus_, his Mother _Margaret_ being
delivered of him, he was after his Father called _Gerard_, which in the
_German_ Tongue, signifies _Amiable_; and as it was the Custom among
learned Men in those Times, (who affected to give their Names either in
_Latin_ or _Greek_,) it was turn'd into _Desiderius_ (_Didier_) in
_Latin_, and into _Erasmus_ [Greek: Herasmios] in _Greek_, which has the
same Signification. He was at first brought up by his Grandmother, till
_Gerard's_ Parents coming to the Knowledge that he was at _Rome_, wrote
to him, sending him Word, that the young Gentlewoman whom he courted for
a Wife was dead; which he giving Credit to, in a melancholy Fit, took
Orders, being made a Presbyter, and apply'd his Mind seriously to the
Study of Religion. But upon his Return into his own Country, he found
that they had impos'd upon him. Having taken Orders, it was too late to
think of Marriage; he therefore quitted all further Pretensions to her,
nor would she after this, be induced to marry. _Gerard_ took Care to
have his Son _Erasmus_ liberally educated, and put him to School when he
was scarce four Years old. (They have in _Holland_, an ill-grounded
Tradition; that _Erasmus_, when he was young, was a dull Boy, and slow
at Learning; but Monsieur _Bayle_ has sufficiently refuted that Error,
tho' were it true, it were no more Dishonour to him, than it was to
_Thomas Aquinas, Suarez_, and others.) He was a Chorister at _Utrecht_,
till he was nine Years old, and afterwards was sent to _Daventer_, his
Mother also going thither to take Care of him. That School was but
barbarous, the most that was minded, was _Matins_, Even-Song, &c. till
_Alexander Hegius_ of _Westphalia_, and _Zinthius_, began to introduce
something of better Literature. (This _Alexander Hegius_, was an
intimate Friend to the learned _Rodolphus Agricola_, who was the first
that brought the _Greek_ Tongue over the Mountains of _Germany_, and was
newly returned out of _Italy_, having learned the _Greek_ Tongue of
him.) _Erasmus_ took his first Taste of solid Learning from some of his
Playfellows, who being older than himself, were under the Instruction of
_Zinthius_: And afterwards he sometimes heard _Hegius_; but that was
only upon holy Days, on which he read publickly, and so rose to be in
the third Class, and made a very good Proficiency: He is said to have
had so happy a Memory, as to be able to repeat all _Terence_ and
_Horace_ by Heart. The Plague at that Time raging violently at
_Daventer_, carry'd off his Mother, when _Erasmus_ was about thirteen
Years of Age; which Contagion increasing more and more every Day, having
swept away the whole Family where he boarded, he returned Home. His
Father _Gerard_ hearing of the Death of his Wife, was so concern'd at
it, that he grew melancholy upon it, fell sick, and died soon after,
neither of them being much above forty Years of Age. He assign'd to his
Son _Erasmus_ three Guardians, whom he esteem'd as trusty Friends, the
Principal of whom was _Peter Winkel_, the Schoolmaster of _Goude_. The
Substance that he left for his Education, had been sufficient for that
Purpose, if his Guardians had discharg'd their Trust faithfully. By them
he was remov'd to _Boisleduc_, tho' he was at that Time fit to have gone
to the University. But the Trustees were against sending him to the
University, because they had design'd him for a Monastick Life. Here he
liv'd (or, as he himself says, rather lost three Years) in a
_Franciscan_ Convent, where one _Rombold_ taught Humanity, who was
exceedingly taken with the pregnant Parts of the Youth, and began to
sollicit him to take the Habit upon him, and become one of their Order.
_Erasmus_ excused himself, alledging the Rawness and Unexperiencedness
of his Age. The Plague spreading in these Parts, and after he had
struggled a whole Year with an Ague, he went Home to his Guardians,
having by this Time furnished himself with an indifferent good Style, by
daily reading the best Authors. One of his Guardians was carried off by
the Plague; the other two not having manag'd his Fortune with the
greatest Care, began to contrive how they might fix him in some
Monastery. _Erasmus_ still languishing under this Indisposition, tho' he
had no Aversion to the Severities of a pious Life, yet he had an
Aversion for a Monastery, and therefore desired Time to consider of the
Matter. In the mean Time his Guardians employ'd Persons to sollicit him,
by fair Speeches, and the Menaces of what he must expect, if he did not
comply, to bring him over. In this Interim they found out a Place for
him in _Sion_, a College of Canons Regulars near _Delft_, which was the
principal House belonging to that Chapter. When the Day came that
_Erasmus_ was to give his final Answer, he fairly told them, he neither
knew what the World was, nor what a Monastery was, nor yet, what himself
was, and that he thought it more advisable for him to pass a few Years
more at School, till he came to know himself better. _Peter Winkel_
perceiving that he was unmoveable in this Resolution, fell into a Rage,
telling him, he had taken a great deal of Pains to a fine Purpose
indeed, who had by earnest Sollicitations, provided a good Preferment
for an obstinate Boy, that did not understand his own Interest: And
having given him some hard Words, told him, that from that Time he threw
up his Guardianship, and now he might look to himself. _Erasmus_
presently reply'd, that he took him at his first Word; that he was now
of that Age, that he thought himself capable of taking Care of himself.
When his Guardian saw that threatening would not do any Thing with him,
he set his Brother Guardian, who was his Tutor, to see what he could do
with him: Thus was _Erasmus_ surrounded by them and their Agents on all
Hands. He had also a Companion that was treacherous to him, and his old
Companion his Ague stuck close to him; but all these would not make a
monastick Life go down with him; till at last, by meer Accident, he
went to pay a Visit at a Monastery of the same Order at _Emaus_ or
_Steyn_ near _Goude_, where he found one _Cornelius_, who had been his
Chamber-fellow at _Daventer_. He had not yet taken the Habit, but had
travelled to _Italy_, and came back without making any great
Improvements in Learning. This _Cornelius_, with all the Eloquence he
was Master of, was continually setting out the Advantages of a religious
Life, the Conveniency of noble Libraries, Retirement from the Hurry of
the World, and heavenly Company, and the like. Some intic'd him on one
Hand, others urg'd him on the other, his Ague stuck close to him, so
that at last he was induc'd to pitch upon this Convent. And after his
Admission he was fed up with great Promises to engage him to take upon
him the holy Cloth. Altho' he was but young, he soon perceived how
vastly short all Things there fell of answering his Expectations;
however, he set the whole Brotherhood to applying their Minds to Study.
Before he professed himself he would have quitted the Monastery; but his
own Modesty, the ill Usage he was treated with, and the Necessities of
his Circumstances, overcame him, so that he did profess himself. Not
long after this, by the means of _Gulielmus Hermannus_ of _Buda_, his
intimate Associate, he had the Honour to be known to _Henry a Bergis_
Bishop of _Cambray_, who was then in Hopes of obtaining a Cardinal's
Hat, which he had obtained, had not Money been wanting: In order to
sollicit this Affair for him, he had Occasion for one that was Master of
the _Latin_ Tongue; therefore being recommended by the Bishop of
_Utrecht_, he was sent for by him; he had also the Recommendation of the
_Prior_, and General, and was entertained in the Bishop's Family, but
still wore the Habit of his Order: But the Bishop, disappointed in his
Hope of wearing the Cardinal's Hat, _Erasmus_ finding his Patron fickle
and wavering in his Affections, prevail'd with him to send him to
_Paris_, to prosecute his Studies there. He did so, and promised him a
yearly Allowance, but it was never paid him, according to the Custom of
great Men. He was admitted of _Montague_ College there, but by Reason of
ill Diet and a damp Chamber, he contracted an Indisposition of Body,
upon which he return'd to the Bishop, who entertain'd him again
courteously and honourably: Having recover'd his Health, he return'd
into _Holland_, with a Design to settle there; but being again invited,
he went back to _Paris_. But having no Patron to support him, he rather
made a Shift to live (to use his own Expression) than to study there;
and undertook the Tuition of an _English_ Gentleman's two Sons. And the
Plague returning there periodically for many Years, he was obliged every
Year to return into his own Country. At length it raging all the Year
long, he retir'd to _Louvain_.

After this he visited _England_, going along with a young Gentleman, to
whom he was Tutor, who, as he says himself, was rather his Friend than
his Patron. In _England_ he was received with universal Respect; and, as
he tells us himself in his Life, he won the Affections of all good Men
in our Island. During his Residence here, he was intimately acquainted
with _Sir Thomas More_, _William Warham_, Archbishop of _Canterbury_,
_John Colet_, Dean of St. _Pauls_, the Founder of St. _Paul's School_, a
Man remarkable for the Regularity of his Life, great Learning and
Magnificence; with _Hugh Latimer_ Bishop of _Winchester_, _Linacre_,
_Grocinus_, and many other honourable and learned Persons, and passed
some Years at _Cambridge_, and is said to have taught there; but whether
this was after his first or second Time of visiting _England_, I do not
determine: However, not meeting with the Preferment he expected, he went
away hence to make a Journey to _Italy_, in the Company of the Sons of
_Baptista Boetius_, a _Genoese_, Royal Professor of Physick in
_England_; which Country, at that Time, could boast of a Set of learned
Men, not much inferior to the _Augustan_ Age: But as he was going to
_France_, it was his ill Fortune, at _Dover_, to be stripp'd of all he
had; this he seems to hint at in his _Colloquy_, intitled, the
_Religious Pilgrimage_: But yet he was so far from revenging the Injury,
by reflecting upon the Nation, that he immediately published a Book in
Praise of the King and Country; which Piece of Generosity gained him no
small Respect in _England_. And it appears by several of his Epistles,
that he honoured _England_ next to the Place of his Nativity.

It appears by _Epist. 10. Lib. 16_. that when he was in _England_
Learning flourished very much here, in that he writes, _Apud Anglos
triumphant bonae Literae recta Studia_; and in _Epist. 12. Lib. 16_. he
makes no Scruple to equal it to _Italy_ itself; and _Epist. 26. Lib. 6._
commends the _English_ Nobility for their great Application to all
useful Learning, and entertaining themselves at Table with learned
Discourses, when the Table-Talk of Churchmen was nothing but Ribaldry
and Profaneness. In _Epist_. 10. _Lib_. 5, which he addresses to
_Andrelinus_, he invites him to come into _England_, recommending it as
worth his While, were it upon no other Account, than to see the charming
Beauties with which this Island abounded; and in a very pleasant Manner
describes to him the Complaisance and innocent Freedom of the _English_
Ladies, telling him, that when he came into a Gentleman's House he was
allowed to salute the Ladies, and also to do the same at taking Leave:
And tho' he seems to talk very feelingly on the Subject, yet makes no
Reflections upon the Virtue of _English_ Women. But to return to him; as
to his Voyage to _Italy_, he prosecuted his Journey to _Turin_, and took
the Degree of Doctor of Divinity in that University; he dwelt a whole
year in _Bolognia_, and there obtain'd a Dispensation from Pope _Julian_
to put off his Canon's Habit, but upon Condition not to put off the
Habit of Priest; and after that went to _Venice_, where was the
Printing-House of the famous _Manutius Aldus_, and there he published
his Book of _Adagies_, and staying some Time there, wrote several
Treatises, and had the Conversation of many eminent and learned Men.
From thence he went to _Padua_, where at that Time _Alexander_ the Son
of _James_ King of _Scotland_, and Bishop of St. _Andrews_ in
_Scotland_, studied, who chose _Erasmus_ for his Tutor in Rhetorick, and
went to _Seana_, and thence to _Rome_, where his great Merits had made
his Presence expected long before. At _Rome_ he gained the Friendship
and Esteem of the most considerable Persons in the City, was offered the
Dignity of a Penitentiary, if he would have remained there: But he
returned back to the Archbishop, and not long after went with him again
to _Italy_, and travelling farther into the Country, went to _Cuma_, and
visited the Cave of _Sybilla_. After the Death of the Archbishop he
began to think of returning to his own Country, and coming over the
_Rhetian Alps_, went to _Argentorat_, and thence by the Way of the
_Rhine_ into _Holland_, having in his Way visited his Friends at
_Antwerp_ and _Louvain_; but _Henry_ VIII. coming to the Crown of
England, his Friends here, with many Invitations and great Promises,
prevailed upon him to come over to _England_ again, where it was his
Purpose to have settled for the remaining Part of his Life, had he found
Things according to the Expectation they had given him: But how it came
about is uncertain, whether _Erasmus_ was wanting in making his Court
aright to Cardinal _Wolsey_, who at that Time manag'd all Things at his
Pleasure; or, whether it were that the Cardinal look'd with a jealous
Eye upon him, because of his intimate Friendship with _William Warham_,
Archbishop of _Canterbury_, who had taken him into his Favour, between
whom and _Wolsey_ there was continual Clashing, (the Cardinal after he
had been made the Pope's Legate, pretending a Power in the
Archbishoprick of _Canterbury_.) On this Disappointment he left
_England_, and went to _Flanders_; Archbishop _Warham_ had indeed shewed
his Esteem for him, in giving him the Living of _Aldington_. In short,
_Erasmus_ takes Notice of the Friendship between himself and _Warham_ in
the _Colloquy_ called, _The Religious Pilgrimage_.

As to his Familiarity with Sir _Thomas More_, there are several Stories
related, and especially one concerning the Disputes that had been
between them about _Transubstantiation_, or the _real Presence_ of
Christ in the consecrated Wafer, of which Sir _Thomas_ was a strenuous
Maintainer, and _Erasmus_ an Opponent; of which, when _Erasmus_ saw he
was too strongly byassed to be convinced by Arguments, he at last made
use of the following facetious Retortion on him. It seems in their
Disputes concerning the real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, which
were in _Latin_, Sir _Thomas_ had frequently used this Expression, and
laid the Stress of his Proof upon the Force of Believing, _Crede quod
edis et edis_, _i.e._ Believe you eat [Christ] and you do eat him;
therefore _Erasmus_ answers him, _Crede quod habes et habes, Believe
that you have_ [_your Horse_] _and you have him_. It seems, at
_Erasmus's_ going away, Sir _Thomas_ had lent him his Horse to carry him
to the Sea-side or _Dover_; but he either carried him with him over Sea
to _Holland_, or sent him not back to Sir _Thomas_, at least for some
Time; upon which Sir _Thomas_ writing to _Erasmus_ about his Horse,
_Erasmus_ is said to have written back to him as follows.

      _Ut mihi scripsisti de corpore Christi,
        Crede quod edis et edis.
      Sic tibi rescribo de tuo Palfrido;
        Crede quod habes et habes_.

Being arriv'd at _Flanders_ by the Interest of _Sylvagius_ Chancellor
to _Charles of Austria_, afterwards Emperor of _Germany_, known by the
name of _Charles_ V: he was made one of his Counsellors.

In the mean Time _Johannes Frobenius_, a famous Printer, having printed
many of his Works at _Basil_ in _Switzerland_, and being much taken with
the Elegancy of his Printing, and the Neatness of his Edition, he went
thither, pretending that he undertook that Journey for the Performance
of some Vow he had made; he was kindly entertain'd by him, and publish'd
several Books there, and dedicated this his Book of Colloquies to
_Frobenius's_ Son, and resided till the Mass had been put down there by
the Reformers. When he left that Place, he retir'd to _Friburg_ in
_Alsace_. Before his going to _Friburg_, he visited the low Countries to
settle certain Affairs there. And was at _Cologn_ at the Time that the
Assembly was at _Worms_, which being dissolv'd, he went again to
_Basil_, either, as some say, for the Recovery of his Health, or, as
others, for the publishing of several Books. He receiv'd the Bounty and
Munificence of several Kings, Princes, and Popes, and was honourably
entertain'd by many of the chief Cities which he pass'd through. And by
his Procurement, a College of three Languages was instituted at
_Louvain_, at the Charge of _Hieronimus Buslidius_, Governour of _Aria_,
out of certain Monies he at his Death bequeath'd to the use of studious
and learned Men. An Account of which coming to the Ears of _Francis_
King of _France_, he invited him by Letters to _Paris_, in order, by his
Advice to erect the like College there. But certain Affairs happening,
his Journey thither was hindred. He went to _Friburg_ in _Alsace_, where
he bought him an House, and liv'd seven Years in great Esteem and
Reputation, both with the chief Magistrates and Citizens of the Place,
and all Persons of any Note in the University. But his Distemper, which
was the Gout, coming rudely upon him, he, thinking the Change of Air
would afford him Relief, sold his House, and went again to _Basil_, to
the House of _Frobenius_; but he had not been there above nine Months
before his Gout violently assaulted him, and his strength having
gradually decay'd, he was seized with a Dysentery, under which having
laboured for a Month, it at last overcame him, and he died at the House
of _Jerome Frobenius_, the son of _John_ the famous Printer, the 12th
of _July_ 1536, about Midnight, being about seventy Years of Age: After
his last retreat to _Basil_, he went seldom abroad; and for some of the
last Months stirred not out of his Chamber. He retained a sound Mind,
even to the last Moments of his Life; and, as a certain Author saith,
bid Farewell to the World, and passed into the State of another Life,
after the Manner of a Protestant, without the Papistical Ceremonies of
Rosaries, Crosses, Confession, Absolution, or receiving the
transubstantiated Wafer, and in one Word, not desiring to have any of
the _Romish_ Superstitions administered, but according to the true Tenor
of the Gospel, taking Sanctuary in nothing but the Mercies of God in
Christ. And finding himself near Death, he gave many Testimonies of
Piety and Christian Hope in God's Mercy, and oftentimes cry'd out in the
_German_ Language, _Liever Godt_, _i.e._ dear God; often repeating, O
Jesus have Mercy on me! O Lord, deliver me! Lord, put an End to my
Misery! Lord, have Mercy upon me.

In his last Will, he made the celebrated Lawyer _Bonifacius Amerbachius_
his Executor, bequeathing the greatest Part of his Substance to
charitable Uses; as for the Maintenance of such as were poor and
disabled through Age or Sickness; for the Marrying of poor young
Virgins, to keep them from Temptations to Unchastity; for the
maintaining hopeful Students in the University, and such like charitable
Uses. In the overseeing of his Will, he join'd with _Amerbachius_, two
others, _Jerome Frobenius_, and _Nicholas Episcopius_, who were his
intimate Friends, and whom a certain Author says, had then espoused the
Reformation began by _Luther_ and other Reformers. The city of _Basil_
still pays _Erasmus_ the Respect which is due to the Memory of so
eminent a Person; they not only call'd one of the Colleges there after
his Name, but shew the House where he died to Strangers, with as much
Veneration as the People of _Roterdam_ do the House where he was born.

I shall not here pretend to give a Catalogue of all _Erasmus's_ genuine
Pieces, which they shew at _Basil_: As to his Colloquies and _Moria
Encomium_, they have seen more Editions than any other of his Works; and
_Moreri_ says, that a Bookseller at _Paris_, who thoroughly understood
his Trade, sold twenty four thousand of them at one Impression, by
getting it whisper'd to his Customers, that the Book was prohibited, and
would suddenly be call'd in.

He was buried at _Basil_, in the Cathedral Church, on the left Side near
the Choir, in a Marble Tomb; on the fore Side of which was this
Inscription:

    CHRISTO SERVATORIS.
    DESID. ERASMO ROTERODAMO.

    _Viro_ omnibus modis maximo;

    Cujus incomparabilem in omni disciplinarum genere eruditionem,
    pari conjunctam prudentia,

    _Posteri_ et admirabuntur et praedicabunt

    BONIFACIUS AMERBACHIUS, HIERONYMUS FROBENIUS,
    NICHOLAS EPISCOPIUS Haeredes,

    Et nuncupati supremae suae voluntatis _vindices_

    _Patrono optimo_,

    non _Memoriae_, quam immortalem sibi Editis Lucubrationibus
    comparavit, iis, tantisper dum orbis Terrarum stabit, superfuturo,
    ac eruditis ubique gentium colloquuturo: sed _Corporis
    Mortalis_, quo reconditum sit ergo, hoc saxum posuere.

    Mortuus est IV. Eidus Julias jam septuagenarius, Anno a
    Christo nato, M.D. XXXVI.

Upon the upper Part of the Tomb is a quadrangular Base, upon which
stands the Effigies of the Deity of _Terminus_, which _Erasmus_ chose
for the Impress of his Seal, and on the Front of that Base is this
Inscription.

    DES. ERASMUM ROTERODAMUM _Amici_ sub hoc saxo condebant,

    IV, eid. Julias M.D. XXXVI.

In the Year 1549, a wooden Statue, in Honour of so great a Man, was
erected in the Market-place at _Roterdam_; and in the Year 1557, a Stone
one was erected in the Stead of it; but this having been defaced by the
_Spaniards_ in the Year 1572, as soon as the Country had recovered its
Liberty it was restored again. But in the Year 1622, instead of it, a
very compleat one of Brass eight Foot high with the Pedestal, was
erected, which is now standing on the Bridge at _Roterdam_, and likely
long to remain there, on the Foot of which is the following Inscription.

     DESIDERIO ERASMO MAGNO,

     Scientiarum atque Literature politioris _vindici et
     instauratori_: _Viro_ saeculi sui _Primario_, _civi_
     omnium praestantissimo, ac nominis immortalitatem scriptis
     aeviternis jure _consecuto_, S.P.Q. ROTERODAMUS.

     Ne quod tantis apud se suosque posteros _virtutibus_
     praemium deesset, _Statuam_ hanc ex sere publico erigendam
     curaverunt.


On the right Side are these Verses of _Nicholas Heinsius_.

      _Barbariae talem se debellator_ Erasmus,
        _Maxima laus Batavi nominis, ore tulit.
      Reddidit, en, fatis, Ars obluctata sinistris,
        De tanto spolium nacta quod urna viro est.
      Ingenii caeleste jubar, majusque caduco
        Tempore qui reddat, solus_ Erasmus _erit_.

On the left Side, and behind, there is an Inscription in the _Dutch_
Language, much to the Purport of the first Inscription. On the House
where _Erasmus_ was born, formerly was this Inscription.

      _Haec est parva Domus, magnus qua natus_ Erasmus.

The same House being rebuilt and enlarged, has the following
Inscription.

      _AEdibus his ortus Mundum decoravit_ Erasmus,
        _Artibus ingenuis, Religione, Fide_.

As for his Stature, he was neither very low nor very tall, his Body well
set, proportioned and handsome, neither fat nor lean, but of a nice and
tender Constitution, and easily put out of Order with the least
Deviation from his ordinary Way of Living; he had from his Childhood so
great an Aversion to eating of Fish, that he never attempted it without
the Danger of his Life, and therefore obtain'd a Dispensation from the
Pope from eating Fish in _Lent_, as appears by the Story of _Eras_, (as
he stiles himself) in the Colloquy call'd _Ichthyophagia_. He was of a
fair and pale Complexion, had a high Forehead, his Hair, in his younger
Years, inclining to yellow, his Nose pretty long, a little thick at the
End, his Mouth something large, but not ill made, his Eyes grey but
lively, his Countenance chearful and pleasant, his Voice small, but
musical, his Speech distinct and plain, pleasant and jocose, his Gaite
handsome and grave; he had a, most happy Memory and acute Wit, he was
very constant to his Friend, and exceeding liberal to those that were
under Necessity, especially to studious and hopeful Youths, and to such
as were destitute in their Journey: In his Conversation he was very
pleasant and affable, free from peevish and morose Humours, but very
witty and satyrical. It is related, that when _Erasmus_ was told, that
_Luther_ had married and gotten the famous _Catharine Bora_ with Child,
he should in a jesting Manner say, that, if according to the popular
Tradition, _Antichrist_ was to be begotten between a Monk and a Nun, the
World was in a fair Way now to have a Litter of Antichrists.

I shall conclude with the Character given of _Erasmus_ by Mr. _Thomas
Brown_, who comparing him with _Lucian_, says, That whereas _Erasmus_
had translated Part of his Dialogues into _Latin_, he had made _Lucian_
the Pattern of his Colloquies, and had copied his Graces with that
Success, that it is difficult to say which of the two was the Original.

That both of them had an equal Aversion to austere, sullen, designing
Knaves, of what Complexion, Magnitude, or Party soever. That both of
them were Men of Wit and Satyr, but that _Erasmus_, according to the
Genius of his Country, had more of the Humourist in him than _Lucian_,
and in all Parts of Learning was infinitely his Superior. That _Lucian_
liv'd in an Age, when Fiction and Fable had usurp'd the Name of
Religion, and Morality was debauch'd by a Set of sowr Scoundrels, Men of
Beard and Grimace, but scandalously lewd and ignorant, who yet had the
Impudence to preach up Virtue, and stile themselves Philosophers,
perpetually clashing with one another about the Precedence of their
several Founders, the Merits of their different Sects, and if it is
possible, about Trifles of less Importance; yet all agreeing in a
different Way, to dupe and amuse the poor People by the fantastick
Singularity of their Habits, the unintelligible Jargon of their Schools,
and their Pretentions to a severe and mortified Life. This motly Herd of
Jugglers _Lucian_ in a great Measure help'd to chase out of the World,
by exposing them in their proper Colours.

But in a few Generations after him, a new Generation sprung up in the
World, well known by the Name of Monks and Friars, differing from the
former in Religion, Garb, and a few other Circumstances, but in the
main, the same individual Imposters; the same everlasting
Cobweb-Spinners as to their nonsensical Controversies, the same
abandon'd Rakehells as to their Morals; but as for the mysterious Arts
of heaping up Wealth, and picking the Peoples Pockets, as much superior
to their Predecessors the _Pagan_ Philosophers, as an overgrown
Favourite that cheats a whole Kingdom, is to a common Malefactor.

These were the sanctified Cheats, whose Follies and Vices _Erasmus_ has
so effectually lash'd, that some Countries have entirely turn'd these
Drones out of their Cells, and in other Places where they are still
kept, they are grown contemptible to the highest Degree, and oblig'd to
be always upon their Guard.




THE

_Familiar Colloquies_

OF

DESIDERIUS ERASMUS,

OF

_ROTERDAM_.


       *       *       *       *       *


The ARGUMENT.

     _This Colloquy teaches Courtesy and Civility in Saluting,
     who, when, and by what Title we ought to Salute_.


_At the First Meeting_.

A Certain Person teaches, and not without Reason, that we should Salute
freely. For a courteous and kind Salutation oftentimes engages
Friendship, and reconciles Persons at Variance, and does undoubtedly
nourish and increase a mutual Benevolence. There are indeed some Persons
that are such Churls, and of so clownish a Disposition, that if you
salute them, they will scarcely salute you again. But this Vice is in
some Persons rather the Effect of their Education, than their natural
Disposition.

It is a Piece of Civility to salute those that come in your Way; either
such as come to us, or those that we go to speak with. And in like
Manner such as are about any Sort of Work, either at Supper, or that
yawn, or hiccop, or sneeze, or cough. But it is the Part of a Man that
is civil even to an Extreme, to salute one that belches, or breaks Wind
backward. But he is uncivilly civil that salutes one that is making
Water, or easing Nature.

God save you Father, God save you little Mother, God save you Brother,
God save you my worthy Master, God save you heartily Uncle, God save you
sweet Cousin.

It is courteous to make Use of a Title of Relation or Affinity, unless
when it carries something of a Reflection along with it, then indeed it
is better not to use such Titles, tho' proper; but rather some that are
more engaging, as when we call a Mother in Law, Mother; a Son in Law,
Son; a Father in Law, Father; a Sister's Husband, Brother; a Brother's
Wife, Sister: And the same we should do in Titles, either of Age or
Office. For it will be more acceptable to salute an antient Man by the
Name of Father, or venerable Sir, than by the Sirname of Age; altho' in
antient Times they used to make use of [Greek: ho geron], as an
honourable Title. God save you Lieutenant, God save you Captain; but not
God save you Hosier or Shoe-maker. God save you Youth, or young Man. Old
Men salute young Men that are Strangers to them by the Name of Sons, and
young Men again salute them by the Name of Fathers or Sirs.


_A more affectionate Salutation between Lovers_.

God save you my little _Cornelia_, my Life, my Light, my Delight, my
Sweet-heart, my Honey, my only Pleasure, my little Heart, my Hope, my
Comfort, my Glory.


_Either for the Sake of Honour or otherwise_.

_Sal._ O Master, God bless ye.

_Ans._ Oh! Good Sir, I wish you the same.

_Sal._ God bless you most accomplish'd, and most famous Sir. God bless
you again and again thou Glory of Learning. God save you heartily my
very good Friend. God save you my _Maecenas_.

_Ans._ God save you my Singular Patron, God save you most approv'd Sir.
God save you, the only Ornament of this Age. God bless you, the Delight
of _Germany_.

_Sal._ God bless you all together. God bless you all alike.

_Ans._ God bless you my brave Boys.

_Sal._ God save you merry Companion. God bless you Destroyer of Wine.

_Ans._ God bless you Glutton, and unmerciful Devourer of Cakes.

_Sal._ God bless you heartily President of all Virtue.

_Ans._ God bless you in like Manner, Pattern of universal Honesty.

_Sal._ God save you little old Woman of Fifteen Years of Age.

_Ans._ God save you Girl, eighty Years old.

_Sal._ Much good may it do you with your bald Pate.

_Ans._ And much good may it do you with your slit Nose. As you salute,
so you shall be saluted again. If you say that which is ill, you shall
hear that which is worse.

_Sal._ God save you again and again.

_Ans._ God save you for ever and ever.

_Sal._ God save you more than a thousand Times.

_Ans._ In truth I had rather be well once for all.

_Sal._ God bless you as much as you can desire.

_Ans._ And you as much as you deserve.

_Sal._ I wish you well.

_Ans._ But what if I won't be so? In truth I had rather be sick, than to
enjoy the Health that you want.

God bless your Holiness, Your Greatness, Your Highness, Your Majesty,
Your Beatitude, Your High Mightiness, are Salutations rather us'd by the
Vulgar, than approv'd by the Learned.


_In the Third Person_.

_Sapidus_ wishes Health to his _Erasmus_.

_Sapidus_ salutes his _Beatus_, wishing him much Health.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Another Form_.

_Sal._ God bless you _Crito_, I wish you well good Sir.

_Ans._ And I wish you better. Peace be to thee Brother, is indeed a
Christian Salutation, borrow'd from the _Jews_: but yet not to be
rejected. And of the like Kind is, A happy Life to you.

_Sal._ Hail Master.

_Ans._ In truth I had rather have than crave.

_Sal._ [Greek: Chaire].

_Ans._ Remember you are at _Basil_, and not _Athens_.

_Sal._ How do you then dare to speak _Latin_ when you are not at _Rome_?

       *       *       *       *       *

_Forms of well Wishing_.

And to wish well is a Sort of Salutation.


_To a Woman with Child_.

God send you a good Delivery, and that you may make your Husband Father
of a fine Child. May the Virgin Mother make you a happy Mother. I wish
that this swell'd Belly may asswage happily. Heaven grant that this
Burthen you carry, whatsoever it is, may have as easy an out-coming as
it had an in-going. God give you a good Time.


_To Guests_.

Happy be this Feast. Much good may it do all the Company. I wish all
Happiness to you all. God give you a happy Banquet.

_To one that sneezes._

May it be lucky and happy to you. God keep you. May it be for your
Health. God bless it to you.

_To one that is about to begin any Business._

May it prove happy and prosperous for the Publick Good. May that you are
going about be an universal Good. God prosper what you are about. God
bless your Labours. God bless your Endeavours. I pray that by God's
Assistance you may happily finish what you have begun. May Christ in
Heaven prosper what is under your Hand. May what you have begun end
happily. May what you are set about end happily. You are about a good
Work, I wish you a good End of it, and that propitious Heaven may favour
your pious Undertakings. Christ give Prosperity to your Enterprise. May
what you have undertaken prosper. I heartily beg of Almighty God that
this Design may be as successful as it is honourable. May the Affair so
happily begun, more happily end. I wish you a good Journey to _Italy_,
and a better Return. I wish you a happy Voyage, and a more happy Return.
I pray God that, this Journey being happily perform'd, we may in a short
Time have the Opportunity of congratulating you upon your happy Return.
May it be your good Fortune to make a good Voyage thither and back
again. May your Journey be pleasant, but your Return more pleasant. I
wish this Journey may succeed according to your Heart's Desire. I wish
this Journey may be as pleasant to you, as the want of your good Company
in the mean Time will be troublesome to us. May you set Sail with
promising Presages. I wish this Journey may succeed according to both
our Wishes. I wish this Bargain may be for the Good and Advantage of us
both. I wish this may be a happy Match to us all. The blessed Jesus God
keep thee. Kind Heaven return you safe. God keep thee who art one Half
of my Life. I wish you a safe Return. I wish that this New-Year may
begin happily, go on more happily, and end most happily to you, and
that you may have many of them, and every Year happier than other.

_Ans._ And I again wish you many happy Ages, that you mayn't wish well
to me _gratis_.

_Sal._ I wish you a glorious Day to Day. May this Sun-rising be a happy
one to you.

_Ans._ I wish you the same. May this be a happy and a prosperous Morning
to both of us.

_Sal._ Father, I wish you a good Night. I wish you good Repose to Night.
May you sleep sweetly. God give you good Rest. May you sleep without
dreaming. God send you may either sleep sweetly or dream pleasantly. A
good Night to you.

_Ans._ Since you always love to be on the getting Hand, I wish you a
thousand Happinesses to one you wish to me.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Farewell at parting._

Fare ye all well. Farewell. Take care of your Health. Take a great Care
of your Health. I bid you good by, Time calls me away, fare ye well. I
wish you as well as may be. Farewell mightily, or if you had rather have
it so, lustily. Fare you well as you are worthy. Fare you as well as you
deserve. Farewell for these two Days. If you send me away, farewell till
to-morrow. Would you have any Thing with me? Have you any Thing else to
say to me?

_Ans._ Nothing but to wish you well.

_Sal._ Take Care to preserve your Health. Take Care of your Health. Look
well to your Health. See that at the next Meeting we see you merry and
hearty. I charge you make much of your self. See that you have a sound
Mind in a healthful Body. Take Care you be universally well both in Body
and Mind.

_Ans._ I'll promise you I will do my Endeavour. Fare you well also; and
I again wish you prosperous Health.

_Of saluting by another._

Remember my hearty Love to _Frobenius_. Be sure to remember my Love to
little _Erasmus_. Remember me to _Gertrude's_ Mother with all imaginable
Respect; tell them I wish 'em all well. Remember me to my old
Companions. Remember me to my Friends. Give my Love to my Wife. Remember
me to your Brother in your Letter. Remember my Love to my Kinsman. Have
you any Service to command by me to your Friends?

_Ans._ Tell them I wish them all heartily well.

_Sal._ Have you any Recommendations to send by me to your Friends?

_Ans._ Much Health to them all, but especially to my Father.

_Sal._ Are there any Persons to whom you would command me any Service?

_Ans._ To all that ask how I do. The Health you have brought from my
Friends to me, carry back again with much Interest. Carry my hearty
Service to all them that have sent their Service to me. Pray do so much
as be my Representative in saluting my Friends. I would have written to
my Son in Law, but you will serve me instead of a Letter to him.

_Sal._ Soho, soho, whither are you going so fast?

_Ans._ Strait to _Louvain_.

_Sal._ Stay a little, I have something to send by you.

_Ans._ But it is inconvenient for a Footman to carry a Fardel? What is
it?

_Sal._ That you recommend me to _Goclenius, Rutgerus, John Campensis_,
and all the Society of Trilinguists.

_Ans._ If you put nothing into my Snapsack but Healths, I shall carry
them with Ease.

_Sal._ And that you may not do that for nothing, I pray that Health may
be your Companion both going and coming back.


_How we ought to congratulate one that is return'd from a Journey._

We are glad you are come well Home. It is a Pleasure that you are come
Home safe. It is a Pleasure to us that you are come well Home. We
congratulate your happy Return. We give God Thanks that you are come
safe Home to us. The more uneasy we were at the Want of you, the more
glad we are to see you again. We congratulate you and ourselves too that
you are come Home to us alive and well. Your Return is the more pleasant
by how much it was less expected.

_Ans._ I am glad too that as I am well myself I find you so. I am very
glad to find you in good Health. I should not have thought myself well
come Home if I had not found you well; but now I think myself safe, in
that I see you safe and in good Health.

       *       *       *       *       *

_A Form of asking Questions at the first meeting._


The ARGUMENT.

     _This Colloquy teaches Forms of enquiring at the first
     meeting. Whence come you? What News bring you? How do you
     do? &c._


_GEORGE, LIVINUS._

_George._ Out of what Hen-Coop or Cave came you?

_Liv._ Why do you ask me such a Question?

_Ge._ Because you have been so poorly fed; you are so thin a Body may
see thro' you, and as dry as a Kecks. Whence came you from?

_Liv._ From Montacute College.

_Ge._ Then sure you are come loaden with Letters for us.

_Liv._ Not so, but with Lice I am.

_Ge._ Well then you had Company enough.

_Liv._ In truth it is not safe for a Traveller now a Days to go without
Company.

_Ge._ I know well enough a Louse is a Scholar's Companion. Well but do
you bring any News from _Paris_?

_Liv._ Ay, I do, and that in the first Place that I know you won't
believe. At _Paris_ a _Bete_ is wise, and an _Oak_ preaches.

_Ge._ What's that you tell me?

_Liv._ That which you hear.

_Ge._ What is it I hear?

_Liv._ That which I tell you.

_Ge._ O monstrous! Sure Mushrooms and Stones must be the Hearers where
there are such Preachers.

_Liv._ Well, but it is even so as I tell you, nor do I speak only by
hear say, but what I know to be true.

_Ge._ Sure Men must needs be very wise there where _Betes_ and _Oaks_
are so.

_Liv._ You are in the right on't.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Of enquiring concerning Health._

_Ge._ Are you well?

_Liv._ Look in my Face.

_Ge._ Why do you not rather bid me cast your Water? Do you take me for a
Doctor? I don't ask you if you are in Health, for your Face bespeaks you
so to be; but I ask you how you like your own Condition?

_Liv._ I am very well in my Body, but sick in my Mind.

_Ge._ He's not well indeed that is sick in that Part.

_Liv._ This is my Case, I'm well in my Body, but sick in my Pocket.

_Ge._ Your Mother will easily cure that Distemper. How have you done for
this long Time?

_Liv._ Sometimes better, and sometimes worse, as human Affairs commonly
go.

_Ge._ Are you very well in health? Are your Affairs in a good
Condition? Are your Circumstances as you would have them? Have you
always had your Health well?

_Liv._ Very well, I thank God. By God's Goodness I have always had my
Health very well. I have always been very well hitherto. I have been in
very good, favourable, secure, happy, prosperous, successful, perfect
Health, like a Prince, like a Champion, fit for any Thing.

_Ge._ God send you may always enjoy the same. I am glad to hear it. You
give me a Pleasure in saying so. It is very pleasant to me to hear that.
I am glad at my Heart to hear this from you. This is no bad News to me.
I am exceeding glad to hear you say so. I wish you may be so always. I
wish you may enjoy the same Health as long as you live. In
congratulating you, I joy myself, Thanks to Heaven for it.

_Li._ Indeed I am very well if you are so.

_Ge._ Well, but have you met with no Trouble all this while?

_Li._ None but the Want of your good Company.

_Ge._ Well, but how do you do though?

_Li._ Well enough, finely, bravely, very well as may be, very well
indeed, happily, commodiously, no Way amiss. I enjoy rather what Health
I wish, than what I deserved, Princely, Herculean, Champion-like.

_Ge._ I was expecting when you would say Bull-like too.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Of being Ill._

_Ge._ Are you in good Health?

_Li._ I wish I were. Not altogether so well as I would be. Indeed I am
so, so. Pretty well. I am as well as I can be, since I can't be so well
as I would be. As I use to be. So as it pleases God. Truly not very
well. Never worse in all my Life. As I am wont to be. I am as they use
to be who have to do with the Doctor.

_Ge._ How do you do?

_Li._ Not as I would do.

_Ge._ Why truly not well, ill, very ill, in an unhappy, unprosperous,
unfavourable, bad, adverse, unlucky, feeble, dubious, indifferent, State
of Health, not at all as I would, a tolerable, such as I would not wish
even to my Enemies.

_Ge._ You tell me a melancholy Story. Heavens forbid it. God forbid. No
more of that I pray. I wish what you say were not true. But you must be
of good Chear, you must pluck up a good Heart. A good Heart is a good
Help in bad Circumstances. You must bear up your Mind with the Hope of
better Fortune. What Distemper is it? What Sort of Disease is it? What
Distemper is it that afflicts you? What Distemper are you troubled with?

_Li._ I can't tell, and in that my Condition is the more dangerous.

_Ge._ That's true, for when the Disease is known, it is half cured. Have
you had the Advice of any Doctor?

_Li._ Ay, of a great many.

_Ge._ What do they say to your Case?

_Li._ What the Lawyers of _Demiphon_ (in the Play) said to him. One says
one Thing, another he says another, and the third he'll consider of it.
But they all agree in this, that I am in a sad Condition.

_Ge._ How long have you been taken with this Illness? How long have you
been ill of this Distemper? How long has this Illness seiz'd you?

_Li._ About twenty Days more or less, almost a Month. It's now near
three Months. It seems an Age to me since I was first taken ill.

_Ge._ But I think you ought to take care that the Distemper don't grow
upon you.

_Li._ It has grown too much upon me already.

_Ge._ Is it a Dropsy?

_Li._ They say it is not.

_Ge._ Is it a Dissentery?

_Li._ I think not.

_Ge._ Is it a Fever?

_Li._ I believe it is a Kind of Fever; but a new one, as ever and anon
new ones spring up that were unknown before.

_Ge._ There were more old ones than enough before.

_Li._ Thus it pleases Nature to deal with us, which is a little too
severe.

_Ge._ How often does the Fit come?

_Li._ How often do you say? Every Day, nay every Hour indeed.

_Ge._ O wonderful! It is a sad Affliction. How did you get this
Distemper? How do you think you came by it?

_Li._ By Reason of Want.

_Ge._ Why you don't use to be so superstitious as to starve yourself
with Fasting.

_Li._ It is not Bigotry but Penury.

_Ge._ What do you mean by Penury?

_Li._ I mean I could get no Victuals, I believe it came by a Cold. I
fancy I got the Distemper by eating rotten Eggs. By drinking too much
Water in my Wine. This Crudity in my Stomach came by eating green
Apples.

_Ge._ But consider whether you han't contracted this Distemper by long
and late Studying, by hard Drinking, or immoderate use of Venery? Why
don't you send for a Doctor?

_Li._ I am afraid he should do me more Harm than good. I am afraid he
should poison me instead of curing me.

_Ge._ You ought to chuse one that you can confide in.

_Li._ If I must dye, I had rather dye once for all, than to be tormented
with so many Slops.

_Ge._ Well then, be your own Doctor. If you can't trust to a Doctor,
pray God be your Physician. There have been some that have recover'd
their Health, by putting on a Dominican or a Franciscan Fryars Cowl.

_Li._ And perhaps it had been the same Thing, if they had put on a
Whore-master's Cloak. These things have no Effect upon those that have
no Faith in 'em.

_Ge._ Why then, believe that you may recover. Some have been cur'd by
making Vows to a Saint.

_Li._ But I have no Dealings with Saints.

_Ge._ Then pray to Christ that you may have Faith, and that he would be
pleased to bestow the Blessing of Health upon you.

_Li._ I can't tell whether it would be a Blessing or no.

_Ge._ Why, is it not a Blessing to be freed from a Distemper?

_Li._ Sometimes it is better to dye. I ask nothing of him, but only that
he'd give me what would be best for me.

_Ge._ Take something to purge you.

_Li._ I am laxative enough already.

_Ge._ Take something to make you go to Stool. You must take a Purge.

_Li._ I ought to take something that is binding rather, for I am too
laxative.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Of enquiring of a Person upon his Return_.


The ARGUMENT.

     _Of interrogating a Person returning from a Journey,
     concerning War, private Affairs, a Disappointment, great
     Promises, a Wife Lying-in, Dangers, Losses_, &c.


_George._ Have you had a good and prosperous Journey?

_Li._ Pretty good; but that there is such Robbing every where.

_Ge._ This is the Effect of War.

_Li._ It is so, but it is a wicked one.

_Ge._ Did you come on Foot or on Horse-back?

_Li._ Part of the Way a Foot, Part in a Coach, Part on Horse-back, and
Part by Sea.

_Ge._ How go Matters in _France?_

_Li._ All's in Confusion, there's nothing but War talk'd of. What
Mischiefs they may bring upon their Enemies I know not; but this I'm
sure of, the _French_ themselves are afflicted with unexpressible
Calamities.

_Ge._ Whence come all these tumultuary Wars?

_Li._ Whence should they come but from the Ambition of Monarchs?

_Ge._ But it would be more their Prudence to appease these Storms of
human Affairs.

_Li._ Appease 'em! Ay, so they do, as the South Wind does the Sea. They
fancy themselves to be Gods, and that the World was made for their
Sakes.

_Ge._ Nay, rather a Prince was made for the Good of the Commonwealth,
and not the Commonwealth for the Sake of the Prince.

_Li._ Nay, there are Clergymen too, who blow up the Coals, and sound an
Alarm to these Tumults.

_Ge._ I'd have them set in the Front of the Battel.

_Li._ Ay, ay, but they take Care to keep out of Harm's Way.

_Ge._ But let us leave these publick Affairs to Providence. How go your
own Matters?

_Li._ Very well, happily, indifferently well, tolerably.

_Ge._ How goes it with your own Business? As you would have it?

_Li._ Nay, better than I could have wish'd for, better than I deserve,
beyond what I could have hop'd for.

_Ge._ Are all Things according to your Mind? Is all well? Has every
Thing succeeded?

_Li._ It can't be worse. It is impossible it should be worse than it is.

_Ge._ What then, han't you got what you sought for? Han't you caught the
Game you hunted?

_Li._ Hunt! Ay, I did hunt indeed, but with very ill Success.

_Ge._ But is there no Hope then?

_Li._ Hope enough, but nothing else.

_Ge._ Did the Bishop give you no Hopes?

_Li._ Yes, whole Cart Loads, and whole Ship Loads of Hope; but nothing
else.

_Ge._ Has he sent you nothing yet?

_Li._ He promis'd me largely, but he has never sent me a Farthing.

_Ge._ Then you must live in Hopes.

_Li._ Ay, but that won't fill the Belly; they that feed upon Hope may be
said to hang, but not to live.

_Ge._ But however then, you were the lighter for travelling, not having
your Pockets loaded.

_Li._ I confess that, nay, and safer too; for an empty Pocket is the
best Defence in the World against Thieves; but for all that, I had
rather have the Burthen and the Danger too.

_Ge._ You was not robb'd of any Thing by the Way, I hope?

_Li._ Robb'd! What can you rob a Man of that has nothing? There was more
Reason for other Folks to be afraid of me, than I of them, having never
a Penny in my Pocket. I might sing and be starved all the Way I went.
Have you anything more to say?

_Ge._ Where are you going now?

_Li._ Strait Home, to see how all do there, whom I han't seen this long
Time.

_Ge._ I wish you may find all well at Home.

_Li._ I pray God I may. Has any Thing new happen'd at our House since I
went away?

_Ge._ Nothing but only you'll find your Family bigger than it was; for
your _Catulla_ has brought you a little _Catulus_ since you have been
gone. Your Hen has laid you an Egg.

_Li._ That's good News, I like your News, and I'll promise to give you a
Gospel for it.

_Ge._ What Gospel? The Gospel according to St. _Matthew_?

_Li._ No, but according to _Homer_. Here take it.

_Ge._ Keep your Gospel to yourself, I have Stones enough at Home.

_Li._ Don't slight my Present, it is the Eagle's Stone; It is good for
Women with Child; it is good to bring on their Labour.

_Ge._ Say you so? Then it is a very acceptable Present to me, and I'll
endeavour to make you Amends.

_Li._ The Amends is made already by your kind Acceptance.

_Ge._ Nay, nothing in the World could come more seasonably, for my
Wife's Belly is up to her Mouth almost.

_Li._ Then I'll make this Bargain with you; that if she has a Boy, you
will let me be the Godfather.

_Ge._ Well I'll promise you that, and that you shall name it too.

_Li._ I wish it may be for both our Good.

_Ge._ Nay, for all our Good.

       *       *       *       *       *

_MAURICE, CYPRIAN._

_Ma._ You are come back fatter than you used to be: You are returned
taller.

_Cy._ But in Truth I had rather it had been wiser, or more learned.

_Ma._ You had no Beard when you went away; but you have brought a little
one back with you. You are grown somewhat oldish since you went away.
What makes you look so pale, so lean, so wrinkled?

_Cy._ As is my Fortune, so is the Habit of my Body.

_Ma._ Has it been but bad then?

_Cy._ She never is otherwise to me, but never worse in my Life than now.

_Ma._ I am sorry for that. I am sorry for your Misfortune. But pray,
what is this Mischance?

_Cy._ I have lost all my Money.

_Ma._ What in the Sea?

_Cy._ No, on Shore, before I went abroad.

_Ma._ Where?

_Cy._ Upon the _English_ Coast.

_Ma._ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your
Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of
Money.

_Cy._ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost.

_Ma._ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation
very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or
another. But how came it about?

_Cy._ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the
Devil would have it.

_Ma._ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as
they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him
that carries them.

_Cy._ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in
Perplexity.

       *       *       *       *       *

_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS._

_Cl._ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_.

_Ba._ And I to see you alive _Claudius_.

_Cl._ You are welcome Home into your own Country again.

_Ba._ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_.

_Cl._ Why so?

_Ba._ Because they are all up in Arms there.

_Cl._ But what have Scholars to do with Arms?

_Ba._ But there they don't spare even Scholars.

_Cl._ It is well you're got off safe.

_Ba._ But I did not get off without Danger neither.

_Cl._ You are come back quite another Man than you went away.

_Ba._ How so?

_Cl._ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man.

_Ba._ Why, was I a Capon when I went away?

_Cl._ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a
_French_ Man.

_Ba._ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen.
But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_
Man.

_Cl._ Have you learn'd to speak _French?_

_Ba._ Indifferently well.

_Cl._ How did you learn it?

_Ba._ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you.

_Cl._ From whom.

_Ba._ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves.

_Cl._ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce
the _French_ well?

_Ba._ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode.

_Cl._ Then you will never write good Verses.

_Ba._ Why so?

_Cl._ Because you'll make false Quantities.

_Ba._ The Quality is enough for me.

_Cl._ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague?

_Ba._ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon
it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again.

_Cl._ Is not War itself Plague enough?

_Ba._ It is so, unless God thought otherwise.

_Cl._ Sure Bread must be very dear there.

_Ba._ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every
Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there.

_Cl._ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the
_Germans_?

_Ba._ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to
the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War.

_Cl._ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert
ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a
little Business that calls me to another Place.




_FAMILY DISCOURSE._


The ARGUMENT.

     _This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of
     intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of
     familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad,
     and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking
     concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure,
     the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely
     Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard,
     &c._


PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS.

_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door?

_Mi._ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be
some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast
brought?

_Pe._ Myself.

_Mi._ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth.

_Pe._ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal.

_Mi._ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again.

_Pe._ But is _Jodocus_ at Home?

_Mi._ I can't tell, but I'll go see.

_Pe._ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now.

_Mi._ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy.

_Pe._ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home?

_Jo._ No, I am not.

_Pe._ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak?

_Jo._ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it
lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself.

_Pe._ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind.

_Jo._ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body,
but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you.

_Pe._ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail.

_Jo._ Why so?

_Pe._ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a
lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows
to your Seat.

_Jo._ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and
if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept
me from going abroad.

_Pe._ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how
charming pleasant it is.

_Jo._ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it.

_Pe._ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine
Weather.

_Jo._ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us.

_Pe._ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then.

_Jo._ What if we should get Hugh?

_Pe._ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo._

_Jo._ Come on then, I like it mighty well.

_Pe._ What if we should call _Alardus?_

_Jo._ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll
make up in Talking.

_Pe._ If you will, we'll get _Naevius_ along with us too.

_Jo._ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the
Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place.

_Pe._ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a
Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of
Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves.

_Jo._ You promise nobly.

_Pe._ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your
Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study.

_Jo._ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love.

_Pe._ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live
pleasantly.

_Jo._ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study.

_Pe._ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to
Death.

_Pe._ Has this Walk pleas'd you?

_Jo._ It has been a charming pleasant one.


       *       *       *       *       *


_2. GILES, LEONARD._


_Gi._ Where is our Leonard a going?

_Le._ I was coming to you.

_Gi._ That you do but seldom.

_Le._ Why so?

_Gi._ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months.

_Le._ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome.

_Gi._ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the
oftner you come the more welcome you are.

_Le._ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House.

_Gi._ Why truly not many Things as I would have them.

_Le._ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet?

_Gi._ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too.

_Le._ How, two at once!

_Gi._ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again.

_Le._ That's the Way to increase your Family.

_Gi._ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife
does my Family.

_Le._ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet?

_Gi._ No, not yet.

_Le._ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a
great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her.

_Gi._ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already.

_Le._ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like
the best of them?

_Gi._ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my
Daughter won't hear of marrying.

_Le._ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for
some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for
Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While.

_Gi._ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's
in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old.

_Le._ But why is she averse to Marriage?

_Gi._ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ.

_Le._ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil
Genius that lives chastly with a Husband?

_Gi._ I don't think so.

_Le._ How came that Whimsey into her Head?

_Gi._ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that
can be said to her.

_Le._ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or
draw her away.

_Gi._ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of
Cattel as far from my House as I can.

_Le._ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have
her Humour?

_Gi._ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter
her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her
Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight
against the Monks.

_Le._ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her
Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is
too late.

_Gi._ I'll do my utmost Endeavours.

_Le._ What Employment do your Sons follow?

_Gi._ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father
in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did
nothing but play while he was here.

_Le._ Why did you send him thither?

_Gi._ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went.

_Le._ Don't talk so.

_Gi._ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders.

_Le._ I wish 'em all well.

       *       *       *       *       *

3. _MOPSUS, DROMO._

_Mo._ How is it? What are you doing Dromo?

_Dr._ I'm sitting still.

_Mo._ I see that; but how do Matters go with you?

_Dr._ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons.

_Mo._ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing?

_Dr._ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all.

_Mo._ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I
interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence?

_Dr._ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being
alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion.

_Mo._ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some
Business?

_Dr._ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle.

_Mo._ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably.

_Dr._ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I
was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company.

_Mo._ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no
means interrupt or hinder?

_Dr._ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil
and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you.

_Mo._ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I
came along.

_Dr._ Which Ear was it?

_Mo._ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me.

_Dr._ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said.

_Mo._ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you?

_Dr._ They say you are become a Huntsman.

_Mo._ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I
have been hunting after.

_Dr._ What Game is it?

_Mo._ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat
you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding.

_Dr._ Pray, who is your Bride?

_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_.

_Dr._ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy
that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature.

_Mo._ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not
you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you,
the more she'll please me.

       *       *       *       *       *

4. _SYRUS, GETA._

_Sy._ I wish you much Happiness.

_Ge._ And I wish you double what you wish me.

_Sy._ What are you doing?

_Ge._ I am talking.

_Sy._ What! By yourself?

_Ge._ As you see.

_Sy._ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see
to it that you talk to an honest Man.

_Ge._ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion.

_Sy._ With whom?

_Ge._ With _Apuleius_.

_Sy._ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love
Intermission; you study continually.

_Ge._ I am never tired with Study.

_Sy._ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought
not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are
not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid
aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer
Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else
but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books.
You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a
studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon
your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give
yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission
in, nor ever give over studying.

_Ge._ Very well! This is like you. You banter me as you use to do. You
make a Game of me. You joke upon me. You satyrize me. You treat me with
a Sneer. I see how you jeer me well enough. You only jest with me. I am
your Laughing-stock. I am laugh'd at by you. You make yourself merry
with me. You make a meer Game and Sport of me. Why don't you put me on
Asses Ears too? My Books, that are all over dusty and mouldy, shew how
hard a Studier I am.

_Sy._ Let me die if I don't speak my Mind. Let me perish if I don't
speak as I think. Let me not live if I dissemble. I speak what I think.
I speak the Truth. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak
nothing but what I think.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Why don't you come to see me_?

_Ge._ What's the Matter you ha'n't come to see me all this While? What's
the Matter you visit me so seldom? What has happen'd to you that you
never have come at me for so long Time? Why are you so seldom a Visitor?
What is the Meaning that you never come near one for so long Time? What
has hinder'd you that you have come to see me no oftner? What has
prevented you that you have never let me have the Opportunity of seeing
you for this long Time?

       *       *       *       *       *

_I could not by Reason of Business._

_Sy._ I had not Leisure. I would have come, but I could not for my
Business. Business would not permit me hitherto to come to see you.
These Floods of Business that I have been plung'd in would not permit me
to pay my Respects to you. I have been so busy I could not come. I have
been harass'd with so many vexatious Matters that I could not get an
Opportunity. I have been so taken up with a troublesome Business that I
could never have so much Command of myself. You must impute it to my
Business, and not to me. It was not for Want of Will, but Opportunity. I
could not get Time till now. I have had no Time till now. I never have
had any Leisure till this Time. I have been so ill I could not come. I
could not come, the Weather has been so bad.

_Ge._ Indeed I accept of your Excuse, but upon this Condition, that you
don't make use of it often. If Sickness has been the Occasion of your
Absence, your Excuse is juster than I wish it had been; I'll excuse you
upon this Condition, that you make Amends for your Omission by Kindness,
if you make up your past Neglect by your future frequent Visits.

_Sy._ You don't esteem these common Formalities. Our Friendship is more
firm than to need to be supported by such vulgar Ceremonies. He visits
often enough that loves constantly.

_Ge._ A Mischief take those Incumbrances that have depriv'd us of your
Company. I can't tell what to wish for bad enough to those Affairs that
have envy'd us the Company of so good a Friend. A Mischief take that
Fever that hath tormented us so long with the Want of you. I wish that
Fever may perish, so thou thyself wert but safe.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Of Commanding and Promising._

_JAMES, SAPIDUS._

_Ja._ I pray you take a special Care of this Matter. I earnestly intreat
you to take Care of this Affair. If you have any Respect for me, pray
manage this Affair diligently. Pray be very careful in this Affair. Pray
take a great Deal of Care about this Business for my Sake. If you are
indeed the Man I always took you to be, let me see in this Concern what
Esteem you have for me.

_Sa._ Say no more, I'll dispatch this Affair for you, and that very
shortly too. I can't indeed warrant you what the Event shall be, but
this I promise you, that neither Fidelity nor Industry shall be wanting
in me. I will take more Care of it than if it were mine own Affair; tho'
indeed that which is my Friend's I account as my own. I will so manage
the Affair, that whatever is wanting, Care and Diligence shall not be
wanting. Take you no Care about the Matter, I'll do it for you. Do you
be easy, I'll take the Management of it upon myself. I am glad to have
an Opportunity put into my Hand of shewing you my Respect. I do not
promise you in Words, but I will in Reality perform whatsoever is to be
expected from a real Friend, and one that heartily wishes you well. I
won't bring you into a Fool's Paradise. I'll do that which shall give
you Occasion to say you trusted the Affair to a Friend.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Success._

_Sa._ The Matter succeeded better than I could have expected. Fortune
has favour'd both our Wishes. If Fortune had been your Wife she could
not have been more observant to you. Your Affair went on bravely with
Wind and Tide. Fortune has out-done our very Wishes. You must needs be a
Favourite of Fortune, to whom all Things fall out just as you would have
them. I have obtain'd more than I could presume to wish for. This
Journey has been perform'd from Beginning to End with all the fortunate
Circumstances imaginable. The whole Affair has fallen out according to
our Wish. This Chance fell out happily for us. I think we have been
lucky to Admiration, that what has been so imprudently enterpriz'd, has
so happily succeeded.

       *       *       *       *       *

_A giving one Thanks._

_Ja._ Indeed I thank you, and shall thank you heartily as long as I live
for that good Service you have done me. I can scarce give you the Thanks
you deserve, and shall never be able to make you Amends. I see how much
I am oblig'd to you for your Kindness to me. Indeed I don't wonder at
it, for it is no new Thing, and in that I am the more oblig'd to you. My
_Sapidus_ I do, and it is my Duty to love you heartily for your Kindness
to me. In as much as in this Affair you have not acted the Part of a
Courtier, I do, and always shall thank you. I respect you, and thank
you, that you made my Affair your Care. You have oblig'd me very much by
that Kindness of yours. It is a great Obligation upon me that you have
manag'd my Concern with Fidelity. Of all your Kindnesses, which are
indeed a great many, you have shew'd me none has oblig'd me more than
this. I cannot possibly make you a Return according to your Merit Too
much Ceremony between you and I is unnecessary, but that which is in my
Power I'll do. I'll be thankful as long as I live. I confess myself
highly oblig'd to you for your good Service. For this Kindness I owe you
more than I am able to pay. By this good Office you have attach'd me to
you so firmly, that I can never be able to disengage myself. You have
laid me under so many and great Obligations, that I shall never be able
to get out of your Debt. No Slave was ever so engag'd in Duty to his
Master as you have engag'd me by this Office. You have by this good Turn
brought me more into your Debt than ever I shall be able to pay. I am
oblig'd to you upon many Accounts, but upon none more than upon this.
Thanks are due for common Kindness, but this is beyond the Power of
Thanks to retaliate.

       *       *       *       *       *

_The Answer._

_Sa._ Forbear these Compliments, the Friendship between you and I is
greater than that we should thank one another for any Service done. I
have not bestow'd this Kindness upon you, but only made a Return of it
to you. I think the Amends is sufficiently made, if my most sedulous
Endeavours are acceptable to you. There is no Reason you should thank me
for repaying this small Kindness, for those uncommon Kindnesses I have
so often receiv'd from you. Indeed I merit no Praise, but should have
been the most ungrateful Man in the World if I had been wanting to my
Friend. Whatsoever I have, and whatsoever I can do, you may call as
much your own as any Thing that you have the best Title to. I look upon
it as a Favour that you take my Service kindly. You pay so great an
Acknowledgment to me for so small a Kindness, as tho' I did not owe you
much greater. He serves himself that serves his Friend. He that serves a
Friend does not give away his Service, but puts it out to Interest. If
you approve of my Service, pray make frequent Use of it; then I shall
think my Service is acceptable, if as often as you have Occasion for it
you would not request but command it.




_OF RASH VOWS._


The ARGUMENT.

     _This Colloquy treats chiefly of three Things, 1. Of the
     superstitious Pilgrimages of some Persons to_ Jerusalem,
     _and other holy Places, under Pretence of Devotion. 2.
     That Vows are not to be made rashly over a Pot of Ale:
     but that Time, Expence and Pains ought to be employ d
     otherwise, in such Matters as have a real Tendency to
     promote trite Piety. 3. Of the Insignificancy and
     Absurdity of Popish Indulgencies_.


ARNOLDUS, CORNELIUS.

_ARNOLDUS._ O! _Cornelius_, well met heartily, you have been lost this
hundred Years.

_Co._ What my old Companion _Arnoldus_, the Man I long'd to see most of
any Man in the World! God save you.

_Ar._ We all gave thee over for lost. But prithee where hast been
rambling all this While?

_Co._ In t'other World.

_Ar._ Why truly a Body would think so by thy slovenly Dress, lean
Carcase, and ghastly Phyz.

_Co._ Well, but I am just come from _Jerusalem_, not from the _Stygian_
Shades.

_Ar._ What Wind blew thee thither?

_Co._ What Wind blows a great many other Folks thither?

_Ar._ Why Folly, or else I am mistaken.

_Co._ However, I am not the only Fool in the World.

_Ar._ What did you hunt after there?

_Co._ Why Misery.

_Ar._ You might have found that nearer Home. But did you meet with any
Thing worth seeing there?

_Co._ Why truly, to speak ingenuously, little or nothing. They shew us
some certain Monuments of Antiquity, which I look upon to be most of 'em
Counterfeits, and meer Contrivances to bubble the Simple and Credulous.
I don't think they know precisely the Place that _Jerusalem_ anciently
stood in.

_Ar._ What did you see then?

_Co._ A great deal of Barbarity every where.

_Ar._ But I hope you are come back more holy than you went.

_Co._ No indeed, rather ten Times worse.

_Ar._ Well, but then you are richer?

_Co._ Nay, rather poorer than _Job_.

_Ar._ But don't you repent you have taken so long a Journey to so little
Purpose?

_Co._ No, nor I am not asham'd neither, I have so many Companions of my
Folly to keep me in Countenance; and as for Repentance, it's too late
now.

_Ar._ What! do you get no Good then by so dangerous a Voyage?

_Co._ Yes, a great Deal.

_Ar._ What is it?

_Co._ Why, I shall live more pleasantly for it for Time to come.

_Ar._ What, because you'll have the Pleasure of telling old Stories when
the Danger is over?

_Co._ That is something indeed, but that is not all.

_Ar._ Is there any other Advantage in it besides that?

_Co._ Yes, there is.

_Ar._ What is it? Pray tell me.

_Co._ Why, I can divert myself and Company, as oft as I have a Mind to
it, in romancing upon my Adventures over a Pot of Ale, or a good Dinner.

_Ar._ Why, truly that is something, as you say.

_Co._ And besides, I shall take as much Pleasure myself when I hear
others romancing about Things they never heard nor saw; nay, and that
they do with that Assurance, that when they are telling the most
ridiculous and impossible Things in Nature, they persuade themselves
they are speaking Truth all the While.

_Ar._ This is a wonderful Pleasure. Well then, you have not lost all
your Cost and Labour, as the Saying is.

_Co._ Nay, I think this is something better still than what they do,
who, for the sake of little Advance-money, list themselves for Soldiers
in the Army, which is the Nursery of all Impiety.

_Ar._ But it is an ungentleman-like Thing to take Delight in telling
Lies.

_Co._ But it is a little more like a Gentleman than either to delight
others, or be delighted in slandering other Persons, or lavishing away a
Man's Time or Substance in Gaming.

_Ar._ Indeed I must be of your Mind in that.

_Co._ But then there is another Advantage.

_Ar._ What is that?

_Co._ If there shall be any Friend that I love very well, who shall
happen to be tainted with this Phrensy, I will advise him to stay at
Home; as your Mariners that have been cast away, advise them that are
going to Sea, to steer clear of the Place where they miscarried.

_Ar._ I wish you had been my Moniter in Time.

_Co._ What Man! Have you been infected with this Disease too?

_Ar._ Yes, I have been at _Rome_ and _Compostella_.

_Co._ Good God! how I am pleas'd that you have been as great a Fool as
I! What _Pallas_ put that into your Head?

_Ar._ No _Pallas_, but _Moria_ rather, especially when I left at Home a
handsome young Wife, several Children, and a Family, who had nothing in
the World to depend upon for a Maintenance but my daily Labour.

_Co._ Sure it must be some important Reason that drew you away from all
these engaging Relations. Prithee tell me what it was.

_Ar._ I am asham'd to tell it.

_Co._ You need not be asham'd to tell me, who, you know, have been sick
of the same Distemper.

_Ar._ There was a Knot of Neighbours of us drinking together, and when
the Wine began to work in our Noddles, one said he had a Mind to make a
Visit to St. _James_, and another to St. _Peter_; presently there was
one or two that promis'd to go with them, till at last it was concluded
upon to go all together; and I, that I might not seem a disagreeable
Companion, rather than break good Company, promised to go too. The next
Question was, whether we should go to _Rome_ or _Compostella_? Upon the
Debate it was determin'd that we should all, God willing, set out the
next Day for both Places.

_Co._ A