_Po._ And if I had a Fortune to my Mind, I'd have him in Diamonds.
_Br._ He shall stand in my Library, the very next to St. _Jerome_.
_Po._ And I'll have him in mine too.
_Br._ If they were grateful, every one who loves Learning and Languages, especially, the holy Tongues, would do so too.
_Po._ Truly it is no more than he deserves. But han't you some Scruple upon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authority of the Bishop of _Rome_?
_Br._ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Who canoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory is most sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, and the Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselves to the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was sainted by _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City?
_Po._ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will of Heaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are always sensibly felt.
_Br._ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be a Blessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments of his Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality.
He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing with St. _Jerome_ himself.
_Po._ But he suffer'd a great Deal tho' in his Life.
_Br._ But yet St. _Jerome_ suffered more. It is a Blessing to be persecuted by wicked Men for being good.
_Po._ I confess so, and St. _Jerome_ suffer'd many unworthy Things from the worst of Men, for the best of Deeds.
_Br._ That which Satan did formerly by the Scribes and Pharisees against the Lord Jesus, he continues still to do by Pharisaical Men, against good Men, who have deserved well from the World by their Studies. He now reaps the blessed Harvest of the Seed he has been sowing. In the mean Time, it will be our Duty, to preserve his Memory sacred; to honour his Name, and to address him often in some such Manner as follows. _O holy Soul, be thou propitious to Languages, and to those that cultivate them: Favour the holy Tongues, and destroy evil Tongues that are infected with the Poison of Hell._ _Po._ I'll do't myself, and earnestly persuade all my Friends to do it.
I make no Question but there will be those that will desire to have some little Form of Prayer, according to Custom, to celebrate the Memory of this most holy Hero.
_Br._ Do you mean that which they call a Collect?
_Po._ Yes.
_Br._ I have one ready, that I provided before his Death.
_Po._ I pray let's hear it.
_Br. O God, that art the Lover of Mankind, that hast by thy chosen Servant_ John Reuclin, _renew'd to Mankind the Gift of Tongues, by which thy holy Spirit from above, did formerly furnish thy Apostles for their Preaching the Gospel; grant that all thy People may every where, in all Languages, preach the Glory of thy Son Jesus Christ, to the confounding of the Tongues of false Apostles; who being in a Confederacy to uphold the impious Tower of_ Babel, _endeavour to obscure thy Glory, and to advance their own, when to thee alone, together with thy only Son Jesus Christ our Lord, and the holy Spirit, is due all Glory to eternal Ages._ Amen.
_Po._ A most elegant and holy Prayer. As I live, it shall be mine daily.
And I account this a happy Opportunity, that has brought me to the Knowledge of so joyful a Story.
_Br._ Mayst thou long enjoy that Comfort, and so farewell.
_Po._ Fare you well too.
_Br._ I will fare well, but not be a Cook.
_A LOVER and MAIDEN._ The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy presents you with a very chaste Wooing, mingling many philosophical Notions with pleasant Jokes.
Of not being hasty in marrying; of chusing, not only for the Sake of the outward Person, but the inward Endowments of the Mind; of the Firmness of Wedlock; of not contracting Matrimony without the Consent of Parents; of living chastly in Matrimony; of bringing up Children piously; that the Soul is not where it animates, but where it loves. The Description of a deformed Man. That Wedlock is to be preferr'd before a single Life, and is not, as it is vulgarly called, a Halter. That we must not consult our Affections so much as Reason._ PAMPHILUS _and_ MARY.
_PA._ Good Morrow, Madam, cruel, hard Heart, inflexible.
_Ma._ Good Morrow to you too, Mr. _Pamphilus_, as often, and as much, and by what Names you please: But you seem to have forgotten my Name, 'tis _Mary_.
_Pa._ It should rather have been _Martia_.
_Ma._ Why so, pray, what is _Mars_ to me?
_Pa._ Because just as _Mars_ makes a Sport of killing Men, so do you; saving that you do it the more cruelly of the two, because you kill one that loves you.
_Ma._ Say you so! pray where's the great Slaughter of Men that I have made? Where's the Blood of the Slain?
_Pa._ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon me.
_Ma._ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are.
_Pa._ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death.
_Ma._ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the Sight of thee?
_Pa._ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost.
_Ma._ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe Cherry, or purple Grape.
_Pa._ You coquet it with my Misery.
_Ma._ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass.
_Pa._ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a better in the World than I am a looking in already.
_Ma._ What Looking-Glass do you mean?
_Pa._ Your Eyes.
_Ma._ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be dead? Do dead Folks eat?
_Pa._ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do.
_Ma._ What do they feed upon?
_Pa._ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines.
_Ma._ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges.
_Pa._ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or Vinegar.
_Ma._ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that.
And do dead Folks talk too?
_Pa._ Just as I do, with a weak Voice.
_Ma._ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths, and sleep?
_Pa._ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner.
_Ma._ Thou art a merry Fellow.
_Pa._ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too.
_Ma._ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however.
_Pa._ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is only a Separation of Soul and Body.
_Ma._ I grant it.
_Pa._ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words.
_Ma._ No, I will not.
_Pa._ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away another's Life, is a Murtherer.
_Ma._ I grant that too.
_Pa._ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it animates, but where it loves.
_Ma._ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then.
_Pa._ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it.
_Ma._ I am a Maid, not a Stone.
_Pa._ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone.
_Ma._ Go on with your Inferences.
_Pa._ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell, nor feel, if you kill them outright.
_Ma._ Indeed I have heard so.
_Pa._ What do you think is the Reason?
_Ma._ Do you, Philosopher, tell that.
_Pa._ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly loves; and therefore is absent from the Body.
_Ma._ Well, what then?
_Pa._ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead, and you have killed me.
_Ma._ Where is your Soul then?
_Pa._ Where it loves.
_Ma._ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me freely: There's no Hurt in it.
_Pa._ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me outright.
_Ma._ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb.
_Pa._ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine has into hers.
_Ma._ But may I play the Sophister with you now?
_Pa._ The Sophistress.
_Ma._ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead?
_Pa._ Not at the same Time.
_Ma._ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it?
_Pa._ Yes.
_Ma._ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it?
_Pa._ No, it does not.
_Ma._ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves, it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates?
_Pa._ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there.
That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul; just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone.
_Ma._ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me this Question, does not the Person that kills, act?
_Pa._ Yes.
_Ma._ And does not he suffer who is kill'd?
_Pa._ Yes.
_Ma._ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill, when he that loves, rather kills himself?
_Pa._ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is lov'd, that acts.
_Ma._ You will never prove that by all your Grammar.
_Pa._ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then.
_Ma._ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love voluntarily, or against your Will?
_Pa._ Voluntarily.
_Ma._ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid wrongfully.
_Pa._ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save.
_Ma._ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to save the Lover?
_Pa._ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too.
_Ma._ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me?
_Pa._ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead.
_Ma._ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men?
_Pa._ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes.
_Ma._ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then.
_Pa._ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me.
_Ma._ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine.
_Pa._ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must insult him too.
_Ma._ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral?
_Pa._ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me.
_Ma._ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure?
_Pa._ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease imaginable.
_Ma._ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir.
_Pa._ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the World get clear of the Crime of Murther.
_Ma._ In what Court must I be try'd? In the Court of Chancery?
_Pa._ No, in the Court of _Venus_.
_Ma._ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess.
_Pa._ Nay, the most severe in the World.
_Ma._ Has she any Thunderbolts?
_Pa._ No.
_Ma._ Has she got a Trident?
_Pa._ No.
_Ma._ Has she got a Spear?
_Pa._ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea.
_Ma._ But I don't go to Sea.
_Pa._ But she has a Son.
_Ma._ Youth is not very formidable.
_Pa._ But he is very revengeful and resolute.
_Ma._ What will he do to me?
_Pa._ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish so well to. God forbid I should.
_Ma._ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it.
_Pa._ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you again.
_Ma._ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one that won't love me neither.
_Pa._ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain Maid.
_Ma._ Where did she live?
_Pa._ At _Orleans_.
_Ma._ How many Years ago was it?
_Pa._ How many Years! not ten Months.
_Ma._ What was her Name? What do you stick at?
_Pa._ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you.
_Ma._ Why don't you tell me her Name then?
_Pa._ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some other Name. She was your own Namesake.
_Ma._ Who was her Father?
_Pa._ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a rich Man.
_Ma._ Tell me his Name.
_Pa. Aglaius._ _Ma._ Is her Mother alive?
_Pa._ No, she died lately.
_Ma._ What did she die of, say you?
_Pa._ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution.
_Ma._ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name.
_Pa._ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?
_Ma._ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for that. But tell me what became of the Maid?
_Pa._ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her.
_Ma._ What was his Name?
_Pa._ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_ as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape than a Man.
_Ma._ How!
_Pa._ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it.
_Ma._ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow?
_Ma._ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_.
_Pa._ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither.
_Ma._ It may be he had lost the other in the War.
_Pa._ No, he lost it in Peace.
_Ma._ Who dar'd to cut it off?
_Pa. Jack Ketch._ _Ma._ It may be his Riches made Amends.
_Pa._ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain.
_Ma._ That is a miserable Story indeed.
_Pa._ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for slighting the young Gentleman.
_Ma._ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure such a Husband.
_Pa._ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you.
_Ma._ Well, if that will do, I do love you again.
_Pa._ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a Wife, not a Mistress.
_Ma._ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which being once done, can never be undone again.
_Pa._ I have been deliberating too long already.
_Ma._ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon you, for they say he is blind.
_Pa._ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment; you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really so, and therefore I love you.
_Ma._ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on, then you'll know where it pinches.
_Pa._ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will be happy for me.
_Ma._ What, are you an Augur then?
_Pa._ Yes, I am.
_Ma._ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath the Night Owl appear'd luckily?
_Pa._ She flies for Fools.
_Ma._ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand?
_Pa._ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age, Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy, lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a Denial.
_Ma._ What would you have me say?
_Pa._ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_ after me.
_Ma._ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus.
_Pa._ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one.
_Ma._ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you should repent of when done.
_Pa._ Leave off teasing me.
_Ma._ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty.
_Pa._ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your Guest within it I am most in Love with.
_Ma._ What Guest do you mean?
_Pa._ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase.
_Ma._ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that through so many Coverings.
_Pa._ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children.
_Ma._ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead.
_Pa._ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard, would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees; or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the Boughs laden with ripe Apples?
_Ma._ Oh, how cunningly you can argue!
_Pa._ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour?
_Ma._ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and withering in the Hand?
_Pa._ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom.
_Ma._ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing.
_Pa._ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us.
_Ma._ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God.
_Pa._ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies.
We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once.
_Ma._ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be learned?
_Pa._ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them, or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance?
_Ma._ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty can't debauch.
_Pa._ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery?
_Ma._ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman.
_Pa._ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure Matrimony?
_Ma._ I think they do.
_Pa._ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition.
_Ma._ Is it not?
_Pa._ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it.
_Ma._ When does this Case happen?
_Pa._ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation.
_Ma._ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him?
_Pa._ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account.
_Ma._ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing.
_Pa._ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage?
_Ma._ Marriage is called a Halter.
_Pa._ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your Soul and Body bound together?
_Ma._ Yes, I think they are.
_Pa._ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that?
Because it is bound by its own Consent.
_Ma._ But we have neither of us got much of Portion.
_Pa._ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry.
_Ma._ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them.
_Pa._ Have done with Scruples.
_Ma._ Would you have me marry a dead Man?
_Pa._ No, but I shall come to Life again then.
_Ma._ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell.
_Pa._ Do you take Care of that.
_Ma._ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh?
_Pa._ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me.
_Ma._ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty.
_Pa._ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me?
_Ma._ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart.
_Pa._ But give me a Kiss too.
_Ma._ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and untouch'd.
_Pa._ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity?
_Ma._ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks?
_Pa._ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself.
_Ma._ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present.
_Pa._ What is that?
_Ma._ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good.
_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY._ The ARGUMENT.
_A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits are as it were buried alive._ EUBULUS, CATHERINE.
_Eub._ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion in the World.
_Ca._ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table.
_Eu._ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely this is its Youth.
_Ca._ Ay, so it is.
_Eu._ But why is it not Spring with you too?
_Ca._ What do you mean?
_Eu._ Because you look a little dull.
_Ca._ Why, don't I look as I use to do?
_Eu._ Shall I show you how you look?
_Ca._ With all my Heart.
_Eu._ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night?
_Ca._ Yes, I do see it: And what then?
_Eu._ Why, just so you look.
_Ca._ A very fine Comparison.
_Eu._ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here.
What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so?
_Ca._ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you.
_Eu._ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep one too!
_Ca._ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not tell it.
_Eu._ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you are safe.
_Ca._ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good.
_Eu._ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself, perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation.
_Ca._ I can't speak it out.
_Eu._ What is the Matter? Do you hate me?
_Ca._ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that my Heart won't let me divulge it.
_Eu._ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out.
_Ca._ Well then, I do give you my Word.
_Eu._ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want of being compleatly happy.
_Ca._ I would I were so.
_Eu._ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you are now in your seventeenth Year.
_Ca._ That's true.
_Eu._ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of your Trouble.
_Ca._ Nothing less, I assure you.
_Eu._ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of God.
_Ca._ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain.
_Eu._ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper.
_Ca._ Nothing of that, I thank God.
_Eu._ And besides, your Credit is fair.
_Ca._ I trust it is.
_Eu._ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences.
_Ca._ If I have, I thank God for it.
_Eu._ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither.
_Ca._ I wish they were such as they should be.
_Eu._ Some People are uneasy at the Meanness of their Extraction, but your Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentiful Fortunes, and very kind to you.
_Ca._ I have nothing to complain of upon that Account.
_Eu._ What Need of many Words? Of all the young Women in the Country you are the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition to pretend to't.
_Ca._ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'd to marry.
_Eu._ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mind so.
_Ca._ It is no light Matter, you may depend upon it.
_Eu._ You won't take it ill I hope if I guess at it.
_Eu._ I know by Experience what a Torment Love is. Come, confess now, is that it? You promis'd to tell me.
_Ca._ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that you imagine.
_Eu._ What Sort of Love is it that you mean?
_Ca._ Guess.
_Eu._ I have guess'd all the Guesses I can guess; but I'm resolv'd I'll never let go this Hand till I have gotten it out of you.
_Ca._ How violent you are.
_Eu._ Whatever your Care is, repose it in my Breast.
_Ca._ Since you are so urgent, I will tell you. From my very Infancy I have had a very strong Inclination.
_Eu._ To what, I beseech you?
_Ca._ To put myself into a Cloyster.
_Eu._ What, to be a Nun?
_Ca._ Yes.
_Eu._ Ho! I find I was out in my Notion; to leave a Shoulder of Mutton for a Sheep's Head.
_Ca._ What's that you say, _Eubulus_?
_Eu._ Nothing, my Dear, I did but cough. But, go on, tell me it out.
_Ca._ This was my Inclination; but my Parents were violently set against it.
_Eu._ I hear ye.
_Ca._ On the other Hand, I strove by Intreaties, fair Words, and Tears, to overcome that pious Aversion of my Parents.
_Eu._ O strange!
_Ca._ At Length when they saw I persisted in Intreaties, Prayers, and Tears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I was seventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Time is now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from their Words. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you my Distemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can.
_Eu._ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you to moderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all that you can.
_Ca._ It will certainly be the Death of me, if I han't my Desire.
_Eu._ What was it that gave the first Rise to this fatal Resolution?
_Ca._ Formerly, when I was a little Girl, they carried me into one of those Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me the whole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd so charming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smelt so sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in short which Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And then I had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or three that had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had a strange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since.
_Eu._ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the same Thing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, as far as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should rather advise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your own House, of which he should be the Abbot and you the Abbess.
_Ca._ I will rather die than quit my Resolution of Virginity.
_Eu._ Nay, it is indeed an admirable Thing to be a pure Virgin, but you may keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, from which you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home with your Parents.
_Ca._ Yes, I may, but it is not so safe there.
_Eu._ Much safer truly in my Judgment there, than with those brawny, swill-belly'd Monks. They are no Capons, I'll assure you, whatever you may think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make good their Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no where honester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Father they had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thou made Choice of among 'em all, to be a Slave in?
_Eu._ Oh! I know it, it is a little Way from your Father's House.
_Ca._ You're right.
_Eu._ I am very well acquainted with the whole Gang. A sweet Fellowship to renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For the Patriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain natural Drowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish any Thing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, that match him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an ill Man, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not a Grain of Learning in him, and not much more common Prudence. And _Jodocus_ he's so arrant a Sot, that if he were not ty'd up to the Habit of his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears and Bells at it.
_Ca._ Truly they seem to me to be very good Men.
_Eu._ But, my _Kitty_, I know 'em better than you do. They will do good Offices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain a Proselyte.
_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me.
_Eu._ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men to Day, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them be what they will then, you must bear with them.
_Ca._ I am troubled to see so many Entertainments at my Father's House, and marry'd Folks are so given to talk smutty; I'm put to't sometimes when Men come to kiss me, and you know one can't well deny a Kiss.
_Eu._ He that would avoid every Thing that offends him, must go out of the World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but let nothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allow you a Chamber to yourself.
_Ca._ Yes, they do.
_Eu._ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company grow troublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertain yourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks: Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the more pure.
_Ca._ But it is a great Deal safer to be in Virgins Company.
_Eu._ I do not disapprove of a chaste Society: Yet I would not have you delude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to be throughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Things won't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not all Virgins that wear Vails; believe me.
_Ca._ Good Words, I beseech you.
_Eu._ Those are good Words that are true Words. I never read of but one Virgin that was a Mother, _i.e._ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy we appropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'd Virgins after Childbearing.
_Ca._ I abhor the Thoughts on't.
_Eu._ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do more than becomes Maids to do.
_Ca._ Ay! why so, pray?
_Eu._ Because there are more among 'em that imitate _Sappho_ in Manners, than are like her in Wit.
_Ca._ I don't very well understand you.
_Eu._ My dear _Kitty_, I therefore speak in Cypher that you may not understand me.
_Ca._ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have a