pass away their leisure Hours.
_Mag._ Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly?
_Ant._ You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantly together: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is Ladies Business.
_Mag._ Ought not every one to live well?
_Ant._ I am of Opinion, they ought so to do.
_Mag._ Well, can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does not live a good Life.
_Ant._ Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does live a good Life?
_Mag._ Why then, do you approve of living illy, if it be but pleasantly?
_Ant._ I am of the Opinion, that they live a good Life, that live a pleasant Life.
_Mag._ Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outward Things, or from the Mind?
_Ant._ From outward Things.
_Mag._ O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me in what you suppose a pleasant Life to consist?
_Ant._ Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what you please, in Wealth, and in Honours.
_Mag._ But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should you live pleasantly then?
_Ant._ What is it that you call by the Name of Wisdom?
_Mag._ This is Wisdom, to know that a Man is only happy by the Goods of the Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happier or better.
_Ant._ If that be Wisdom, fare it well for me.
_Mag._ Suppose now that I take more Pleasure in reading a good Author, than you do in Hunting, Drinking, or Gaming; won't you think I live pleasantly?
_Ant._ I would not live that Sort of Life.
_Mag._ I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is it that ought to be most delighted in?
_Ant._ I would not have my Monks mind Books much.
_Mag._ But my Husband approves very well of it. But what Reason have you, why you would not have your Monks bookish?
_Ant._ Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out of the Decrees and Decretals of _Peter_ and _Paul._ _Mag._ Why then do you command them the contrary to what _Peter_ and _Paul_ did?
_Ant._ I can't tell what they teach; but I can't endure a Monk that answers again: Nor would I have any of my Monks wiser than I am myself.
_Mag._ You might prevent that well enough, if you did but lay yourself out, to get as much Wisdom as you can.
_Mag._ Why so?
_Mag._ What, not at Leisure to be wise?
_Ant._ No.
_Mag._ Pray what hinders you?
_Ant._ Long Prayers, the Affairs of my Houshold, Hunting, looking after my Horses, attending at Court.
_Mag._ Well, and do you think these Things are better than Wisdom?
_Ant._ Custom has made it so.
_Mag._ Well, but now answer me this one Thing: Suppose God should grant you this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sort of Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, and yourself into a Horse?
_Ant._ No, by no Means.
_Mag._ By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser than yourself?
_Ant._ It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, if I am but a Man myself.
_Mag._ Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither has Wisdom, nor desires to have it?
_Ant._ I am wise enough for myself.
_Mag._ And so are Hogs wise enough for themselves.
_Ant._ You seem to be a Sophistress, you argue so smartly.
_Mag._ I won't tell you what you seem to me to be. But why does this Houshold-Stuff displease you?
_Mag._ Is it not a Woman's Business to mind the Affairs of her Family, and to instruct her Children?
_Ant._ Yes, it is.
_Mag._ And do you think so weighty an Office can be executed without Wisdom?
_Ant._ I believe not.
_Mag._ This Wisdom I learn from Books.
_Ant._ I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will not see one Book in my Chamber.
_Mag._ The Monks are finely look'd after all this While.
_Ant._ I could dispense with Books; but I can't bear _Latin_ Books.
_Mag._ Why so?
_Ant._ Because that Tongue is not fit for a Woman.
_Mag._ I want to know the Reason.
_Ant._ Because it contributes nothing towards the Defence of their Chastity.
_Mag._ Why then do _French_ Books that are stuff'd with the most trifling Novels, contribute to Chastity?
_Ant._ But there is another Reason.
_Mag._ Let it be what it will, tell me it plainly.
_Ant._ They are more secure from the Priests, if they don't understand _Latin_.
_Mag._ Nay, there's the least Danger from that Quarter according to your Way of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know any Thing of _Latin_.
_Ant._ The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rare unusual Thing for a Woman to understand _Latin._ _Mag._ What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worst Examples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do with Custom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought to accustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which was uncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant would become pleasant; and that which seemed unbecoming would look graceful.
_Ant._ I hear you.
_Mag._ Is it becoming a _German_ Woman to learn to speak _French_.
_Ant._ Yes it is.
_Mag._ Why is it?
_Ant._ Because then she will be able to converse with those that speak _French_.
_Mag._ And why then is it unbecoming in me to learn _Latin_, that I may be able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned and wise Authors, and faithful Counsellors?
_Ant._ Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough of themselves.
_Mag._ What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as for myself, let me have never so little, I had rather spend them in Study, than in Prayers mumbled over without the Heart going along with them, or sitting whole Nights in quaffing off Bumpers.
_Ant._ Bookishness makes Folks mad.
_Mag._ And does not the Rattle of your Pot-Companions, your Banterers, and Drolls, make you mad?
_Ant._ No, they pass the Time away.
_Mag._ How can it be then, that such pleasant Companions should make me mad?
_Ant._ That's the common Saying.
_Mag._ But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do we see grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up all Night tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has made People mad?
_Ant._ By my Faith, I would not have a learned Wife.
_Mag._ But I bless myself, that I have gotten a Husband that is not like yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him.
_Ant._ Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all we must die.
_Mag._ Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, had you rather die a Fool or a wise Man?
_Ant._ Why, a wise Man, if I could come at it without taking Pains.
_Mag._ But there is nothing to be attained in this Life without Pains; and yet, let us get what we will, and what Pains soever we are at to attain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much to be at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of which will bear us Company unto another Life.
_Ant._ I have often heard it said, that a wise Woman is twice a Fool.
_Mag._ That indeed has been often said; but it was by Fools. A Woman that is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, one that knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twice a Fool.
_Ant._ I can't well tell how it is, that as Panniers don't become an Ox, so neither does Learning become a Woman.
_Mag._ But, I suppose, you can't deny but Panniers will look better upon an Ox, than a Mitre upon an Ass or a Sow. What think you of the Virgin _Mary_?
_Ant._ Very highly.
_Mag._ Was not she bookish?
_Ant._ Yes; but not as to such Books as these.
_Mag._ What Books did she read?
_Ant._ The canonical Hours.
_Mag._ For the Use of whom?
_Ant._ Of the Order of _Benedictines_.
_Mag._ Indeed? What did _Paula_ and _Eustochium_ do? Did not they converse with the holy Scriptures?
_Ant._ Ay, but this is a rare Thing now.
_Mag._ So was a blockheaded Abbot in old Time; but now nothing is more common. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learning as for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity as you think it. There are both in _Spain_ and _Italy_ not a few Women, that are able to vye with the Men, and there are the _Morites_ in _England_, and the _Bilibald-duks_ and _Blaureticks_ in _Germany_. So that unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, that we shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in the Churches, and take Possession of your Mitres.
_Ant._ God forbid.
_Mag._ Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as you have begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure you a Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, and you must either lay aside your Dress, or perform your Part.
_Ant._ How came I to fall into this Woman's Company? If you'll come to see me, I'll treat you more pleasantly.
_Mag._ After what Manner?
_Ant._ Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, and laugh.
_Mag._ I can hardly forbear laughing now.
_The EPITHALAMIUM of PETRUS ÆGIDIUS._ The ARGUMENT.
_The Muses and Graces are brought in, as singing the Epithalamium of_ Peter Ægidius. Alipius _spies the nine Muses, and the three Graces coming out of a Grove, which_ Balbinus _can't see: They take their Way to_ Antwerp, _to the Wedding of_ Ægidius, _to whom they wish all joy, that nothing of Difference or Uneasiness may ever arise between 'em. How those Marriages prove that are made, the Graces not favouring 'em. Congratulatory Verses._ ALIPIUS, BALBINUS, MUSÆ.
_Al._ Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here?
_Ba._ Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which is to be seen.
_Al._ Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight.
_Ba._ Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it.
_Al._ Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill.
_Ba._ I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else.
_Al._ No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there?
_Ba._ What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a bit of a Maid any where.
_Al._ Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight.
_Ba._ What! Are you possess'd?
_Al._ Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of 'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing and trailing after 'em.
_Ba._ I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days, than you do.
_Al._ You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time.
_Ba._ Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't?
_Al._ Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body can see 'em but they that have.
_Ba._ I have drank plentifully out of _Scotus's_ Fountain.
_Al._ But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs.
_Ba._ But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as you?
_Al._ I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable of such Sights as these.
_Ba._ Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too.
_Al._ Is there? That's clever, I vow.
_Ba._ But prithee, sprinkle me with it.
_Al._ Now look, do you see now?
_Ba._ As much as I did before. Sprinkle me again.
_Al._ Well, now do you see?
_Ba._ Just as much; sprinkle me plentifully.
_Al._ I believe you can't but see now.
_Ba._ Now I can scarce see you.
_Al._ Ah poor Man, how total a Darkness has seized your Eyes! This Art would open even the Eyes of an old Coachman: But however, don't plague yourself about it, perhaps 'tis better for you not to see it, lest you should come off as ill by seeing the Muses, as _Actæon_ did by seeing _Diana_: For you'd perhaps be in Danger of being turn'd either into a Hedgehog, or a wild Boar, a Swine, a Camel, a Frog, or a Jackdaw. But however, if you can't see, I'll make you hear 'em, if you don't make a Noise; they are just a-coming this Way. Let's meet 'em. Hail, most welcome Goddesses.
_Mu._ And you heartily, Lover of the Muses.
_Al._ What makes you pull me so?
_Ba._ You an't as good as your Word.
_Al._ Why don't you hear 'em?
_Ba._ I hear somewhat, but I don't know what it is.
_Al._ Well, I'll speak _Latin_ to 'em then. Whither are you going so fine and so brisk? Are you going to _Louvain_ to see the University?
_Mu._ No, we assure you, we won't go thither.
_Al._ Why not?
_Mu._ What Place is for us, where so many Hogs are grunting, Camels and Asses braying, Jackdaws cawing, and Magpies chattering?
_Al._ But for all that, there are some there that are your Admirers.
_Mu._ We know that, and therefore we'll go thither a few Years hence.
The successive Period of Ages has not yet brought on that Time; for there will be one, that will build us a pleasant House there, or a Temple rather, such a one, as there scarce is a finer or more sacred any where else.
_Al._ Mayn't a Body know who it will be, that shall do so much Honour to our Country?
_Mu._ You may know it, that are one of our Priests. There's no doubt, but you have heard the Name of the _Buslidians_, famous all the World over.
_Al._ You have mention'd a noble Family truly, born to grace the Palaces of the greatest Princes in the Universe. For who does not revere the great _Francis Buslidius_, the Bishop of the Church of _Bezancon_, who has approv'd himself more than a single _Nestor_, to _Philip_ the Son of _Maximilian_ the Great, the Father of _Charles_, who will also be a greater Man than his Father?
_Mu._ O how happy had we been, if the Fates had not envy'd the Earth the Happiness of so great a Man, What a Patron was he to all liberal Studies! How candid a Favourer of Ingenuity! But he has left two brothers, _Giles_ a Man of admirable Judgment and Wisdom, and _Jerome_.
_Al._ We know very well that _Jerome_ is singularly well accomplish'd with all Manner of Literature, and adorn'd with every Kind of Virtue.
_Mu._ But the Destinies won't suffer him to be long-liv'd neither, though no Man in the World better deserves to be immortaliz'd.
_Al._ How do you know that?
_Mu._ We had it from _Apollo_.
_Al._ How envious are the Destinies, to take from us all desirable Things so hastily!
_Mu._ We must not talk of that at this Time; but this _Jerome_, dying with great Applause, will leave his whole Estate for the building of a College at _Louvain_, in which most learned Men shall profess and teach publickly, and gratis, the three Languages. These Things will bring a great Ornament to Learning, and Glory to _Charles_ himself: Then we'll reside at _Louvain_, with all our Hearts.
_Al._ But whither are you going now?
_Mu._ To _Antwerp_.
_Al._ What, the Muses and Graces going to a Fair?
_Mu._ No, we assure you, we are not going to a Fair; but to a Wedding.
_Al._ What have Virgins to do at Weddings?
_Mu._ 'Tis no indecent Thing at all, for Virgins to be at such a Wedding as this is.
_Al._ Pray what Sort of a Marriage is it?
_Mu._ A holy, undefiled, and chaste Marriage, such a one as _Pallas_ herself need not be asham'd to be at: Nay, more than that, we believe she will be at it.
_Al._ Mayn't a Body know the Bride and Bridegroom's Name?
_Mu._ We believe you must needs know that most courteous and accomplish'd Youth in all Kinds of polite Learning, _Peter Ægidius_.
_Al._ You have named an Angel, not a Man.
_Mu._ The pretty Maid _Cornelia_, a fit Match for _Apollo_ himself, is going to be married to _Ægidius_.
_Al._ Indeed he has been a great Admirer of you, even from his Infancy.
_Mu._ We are going to sing him an Epithalamium.
_Al._ What, and will the Graces dance too?
_Mu._ They will not only dance, but they will also unite those two true Lovers, with the indissoluble Ties of mutual Affection, that no Difference or Jarring shall ever happen between 'em. She shall never hear any Thing from him, but my Life; nor he from her, but my Soul: Nay: and even old Age itself, shall be so far from diminishing that, that it shall increase the Pleasure.
_Al._ I should admire at it, if those that live so sweetly, could ever be able to grow old.
_Mu._ You say very right, for it is rather a Maturity, than an old Age.
_Al._ But I have known a great many, to whom these kind Words have been chang'd into the quite contrary, in less than three Months Time; and instead of pleasant Jests at Table, Dishes and Trenchers have flown about. The Husband, instead of my dear Soul, has been call'd Blockhead, Toss-Pot, Swill-Tub; and the Wife, Sow, Fool, dirty Drab.
_Mu._ You say very true; but these Marriages were made when the Graces were out of Humour: But in this Marriage, a Sweetness of Temper will always maintain a mutual Affection.
_Al._ Indeed you speak of such a happy Marriage as is very seldom seen.
_Mu._ An uncommon Felicity is due to such uncommon Virtues.
_Al._ But what! Will the Matrimony be without _Juno_ and _Venus_?
_Mu._ Indeed _Juno_ won't be there, she's a scolding Goddess, and is but seldom in a good Humour with her own _Jove_. Nor indeed, that earthly drunken _Venus_; but another heavenly one, which makes a Union of Minds.
_Al._ Then the Marriage you speak of, is like to be a barren one.
_Mu._ No, by no Means, but rather like to be the most happily fruitful.
_Al._ What, does that heavenly _Venus_ produce any Thing but Souls then?
_Mu._ Yes, she gives Bodies to the Souls; but such Bodies, as shall be exactly conformable to 'em, just as though you should put a choice Ointment into a curious Box of Pearl.
_Al._ Where is she then?
_Mu._ Look, she is coming towards you, a pretty Way off.
_Al._ Oh! I see her now. O good God, how bright she is! How majestical and beautiful she appears! The t'other _Venus_ compar'd with this, is a homely one.
_Mu._ Do you see what modest _Cupids_ there are; they are no blind ones, such as that _Venus_ has, that makes Mankind mad? But these are sharp little Rogues, and they don't carry furious Torches, but most gentle Fires; they have no leaden-pointed Darts, to make the belov'd hate the Lover, and torment poor Wretches with the Want of a reciprocal Affection.
_Al._ In Truth, they're as like their Mother as can be. Oh, that's a blessed House, and dearly belov'd by the Gods! But may not a Body hear the Marriage-Song that you design to present 'em with?
_Mu._ Nay, we were just a-going to ask you to hear it.
CLIO.
Peter _hath married fair_ Cornelia, _Propitious Heaven! bless the Wedding-Day._ MELPOMENE.
THALIA.
_From_ Gracchus _may he win the Prize, And for_ Cornelia's _Life, his own despise._ EUTERPE.
_May she in Love exceed_ Admetus' _Wife, Who laid her own down, for her Husband's Life._ TERPSICHORE.
_May he love her with stronger Flame, But much more happy Fate, Than_ Plaucius, _who did disdain To out-live his deceas'd Mate._ ERATO.
_May she love him with no less Flame, But with much better Fate; Than_ Porcia _chaste, her_ Brutus _did, Whom brave Men celebrate._ CALLIOPE.
_For Constancy, I wish the Bridegroom may Be equal to the famous_ Nasica.
URANIA.
_The Bride in Chastity may she Superior to_ Paterculana _be._ POLYHYMNIA.
_May their Offspring like them be, Their Honour equal their Estate; Always from ranc'rous Envy free, Deserved Glory on them wait._ _Al._ I should very much envy _Peter Ægidius_ so much Happiness, but that he is a Man of such Candour, that he himself envies no Body.
_Mu._ It is now high Time for us to prosecute our Journey.
_Al._ Have you any Service to command me at _Louvain_?
_Mu._ That thou wouldst recommend us to all our sincere loving Friends; but especially to our antient Admirers. _John Paludus, Jodocus Gaverius, _Al._ Well, I'll be sure to take Care to do your Message. What shall I say to the rest?
_Mu._ I'll tell you in your Ear.
_Al._ Well, 'tis a Matter that won't cost very much; it shall certainly be done out of Hand.
_The EXORCISM or APPARITION._ The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy detects the Artifices of Impostors, who impose upon the credulous and simple, framing Stories of Apparitions of Daemons and Ghosts, and divine Voices._ Polus _is the Author of a Rumour, that an Apparition of a certain Soul was heard in his Grounds, howling after a lamentable Manner: At another Place he pretends to see a Dragon in the Air, in the middle of the Day, and persuades other Persons that they saw it too; and he prevails upon_ Faunus, _a Parish-Priest of a neighbouring Town, to make Trial of the Truth of the Matters, who consents to do it, and prepares Exorcisms._ Polus _gets upon a black Horse, throws Fire about, and with divers Tricks deceives credulous_ Faunus, _and other Men of none of the deepest Penetration._ THOMAS _and_ ANSELM.
_Tho._ What good News have you had, that you laugh to yourself thus, as if you had found a Treasure?
_Ans._ Nay, you are not far from the Matter.
_Tho._ But won't you impart it to your Companion, what good Thing soever it is?
_Ans._ Yes, I will, for I have been wishing a good While, for somebody to communicate my Merriment to.
_Tho._ Come on then, let's have it.
_Ans._ I was just now told the pleasantest Story, which you'd swear was a Sham, if I did not know the Place, the Persons, and whole Matter, as well as you know me.
_Tho._ I'm with Child to hear it.
_Tho._ Perfectly well.
_Ans._ He's both the Contriver and Actor of this Play.
_Tho._ I am apt enough to believe that; for he can Act any Part to the Life.
_Ans._ He can so: I suppose too, you know that he has a Farm not far from _London_.
_Tho._ Phoo, very well; he and I have drank together many a Time there.
_Ans._ Then you know there is a Way between two straight Rows of Trees.
_Tho._ Upon the left Hand, about two Flight Shot from the House?
_Ans._ You have it. On one Side of the Way there is a dry Ditch, overgrown with Thorns and Brambles; and then there's a Way that leads into an open Field from a little Bridge.
_Tho._ I remember it.
_Ans._ There went a Report for a long Time among the Country-People, of a Spirit that walk'd near that Bridge, and of hideous Howlings that were every now and then heard there: They concluded it was the Soul of somebody that was miserably tormented.
_Tho._ Who was it that raised this Report?
_Ans._ Who but _Polus_, that made this the Prologue to his Comedy.
_Tho._ What did he mean by inventing such a Flam?
_Ans._ I know nothing; but that it is the Humour of the Man, he takes Delight to make himself Sport, by playing upon the Simplicity of People, by such Fictions as these. I'll tell you what he did lately of the same Kind. We were a good many of us riding to _Richmond_, and some of the Company were such that you would say were Men of Judgment. It was a wonderful clear Day, and not so much as a Cloud to be seen there.
_Polus_ looking wistfully up into the Air, signed his Face and Breast with the Sign of the Cross, and having compos'd his Countenance to an Air of Amazement, says to himself, O immortal God, what do I see! They that rode next to him asking him what it was that he saw, he fell again to signing himself with a greater Cross. May the most merciful God, says he, deliver me from this Prodigy. They having urg'd him, desiring to know what was the Matter, he fixing his Eyes up to Heaven, and pointing with his Finger to a certain Quarter of it, don't you see, says he, that monstrous Dragon arm'd with fiery Horns, and its Tail turn'd up in a Circle? And they denying they saw it, he bid them look earnestly, every now and then pointing to the Place: At last one of them, that he might not seem to be bad-sighted, affirmed that he saw it. And in Imitation of him, first one, and then another, for they were asham'd that they could not see what was so plain to be seen: And in short, in three Days Time, the Rumour of this portentous Apparition had spread all over _England_.
And it is wonderful to think how popular Fame had amplified the Story, and some pretended seriously to expound to what this Portent did predict, and he that was the Contriver of the Fiction, took a mighty Pleasure in the Folly of these People.
_Tho._ I know the Humour of the Man well enough. But to the Story of the Apparition.
_Ans._ In the mean Time, one _Faunus_ a Priest (of those which in _Latin_ they call _Regulars_, but that is not enough, unless they add the same in _Greek_ too, who was Parson of a neighbouring Parish, this Man thought himself wiser than is common, especially in holy Matters) came very opportunely to pay a Visit to _Polus_.
_Tho._ I understand the Matter: There is one found out to be an Actor in this Play.
_Ans._ At Supper a Discourse was raised of the Report of this Apparition, and when _Polus_ perceiv'd that _Faunus_ had not only heard of the Report, but believ'd it, he began to intreat the Man, that as he was a holy and a learned Person, he would afford some Relief to a poor Soul that was in such dreadful Torment: And, says he, if you are in any Doubt as to the Truth of it, examine into the Matter, and do but walk near that Bridge about ten a-Clock, and you shall hear miserable Cries; take who you will for a Companion along with you, and so you will hear both more safely and better.
_Tho._ Well, what then?
_Ans._ After Supper was over, _Polus_, as his Custom was, goes a Hunting or Fowling. And when it grew duskish, the Darkness having taken away all Opportunity of making any certain Judgment of any Thing, _Faunus_ walks about, and at last hears miserable Howlings. _Polus_ having hid himself in a Bramble Hedge hard by, had very artfully made these Howlings, by speaking through an earthen Pot; the Voice coming through the Hollow of it, gave it a most mournful Sound.
_Tho._ This Story, as far as I see, out-does _Menander's Phasma_.
_Ans._ You'll say more, if you shall hear it out. _Faunus_ goes Home, being impatient to tell what he had heard. _Polus_ taking a shorter Way, had got Home before him. _Faunus_ up and tells _Polus_ all that past, and added something of his own to it, to make the Matter more wonderful.
_Tho._ Could _Polus_ keep his Countenance in the mean Time?
_Ans._ He keep his Countenance! He has his Countenance in his Hand, you would have said that a serious Affair was transacted. In the End _Faunus_, upon the pressing Importunity of _Polus_, undertakes the Business of Exorcism, and slept not one Wink all that Night, in contriving by what Means he might go about the Matter with Safety, for he was wretchedly afraid. In the first Place he got together the most powerful Exorcisms that he could get, and added some new ones to them, as the Bowels of the Virgin _Mary_, and the Bones of St. _Winifred_.
After that, he makes Choice of a Place in the plain Field, near the Bramble Bushes, from whence the Voice came. He draws a very large Circle with a great many Crosses in it, and a Variety of Characters. And all this was perform'd in a set Form of Words; there was also there a great Vessel full of holy Water, and about his Neck he had a holy Stole (as they call'd it) upon which hung the Beginning of the Gospel of _John_. He had in his Pocket a little Piece of Wax, which the Bishop of _Rome_ used to consecrate once a Year, which is commonly call'd _Agnus Dei_. With these Arms in Times past, they were wont to defend themselves against evil Spirits, before the Cowl of St. _Francis_ was found to be so formidable. All these Things were provided, lest if it should be an evil Spirit it should fall foul upon the Exorcist: nor did he for all this, dare to trust himself in the Circle alone, but he determined to take some other Priest along with him. Upon this _Polus_ being afraid, that if he took some sharper Fellow than himself along with him, the whole Plot might come to be discover'd, he got a Parish-Priest there-about, whom he acquainted before-hand with the whole Design; and indeed it was necessary for the carrying on the Adventure, and he was a Man fit for such a Purpose. The Day following, all Things being prepared and in good Order, about ten a-Clock _Faunus_ and the Parish-Priest enter the Circle. _Polus_ had got thither before them, and made a miserable Howling out of the Hedge; Faunus begins his Exorcism, and _Polus_ steals away in the Dark to the next Village, and brings from thence another Person, for the Play could not be acted without a great many of them.
_Tho._ Well, what do they do?
_Ans._ They mount themselves upon black Horses, and privately carry Fire along with them; when they come pretty near to the Circle, they shew the Fire to affright _Faunus_ out of the Circle.
_Tho._ What a Deal of Pains did this _Polus_ take to put a Cheat upon People?
_Ans._ His Fancy lies that Way. But this Matter had like to have been mischievous to them.
_Tho._ How so?
_Ans._ For the Horses were so startled at the sudden flashing of the Fire, that they had like to have thrown their Riders. Here's an End of the first Act of this Comedy. When they were returned and entered into Discourse, _Polus_, as though he had known nothing of the Matter, enquires what was done. _Faunus_ tells him, that two hideous Caco-dæmons appear'd to him on black Horses, their Eyes sparkling with Fire, and breathing Fire out of their Nostrils, making an Attempt to break into the Circle, but that they were driven away with a Vengeance, by the Power and Efficacy of his Words. This Encounter having put Courage into _Faunus_, the next Day he goes into his Circle again with great Solemnity, and after he had provok'd the Spirit a long Time with the Vehemence of his Words, _Polus_ and his Companion appear again at a pretty Distance, with their black Horses, with a most outragious Noise, making a Feint, as if they would break into the Circle.
_Tho._ Had they no Fire then?
_Ans._ No, none at all; for that had lik'd to have fallen out very unluckily to them. But hear another Device: They drew a long Rope over the Ground, and then hurrying from one Place to another, as though they were beat off by the Exorcisms of _Faunus_, they threw down both the Priest and holy Water-Pot all together.
_Tho._ This Reward the Parish-Priest had for playing his Part?
_Ans._ Yes, he had; and for all that, he had rather suffer this than quit the Design. After this Encounter, when they came to talk over the Matter again, _Faunus_ tells a mighty Story to _Polus_, what great Danger he had been in, and how couragiously he had driven both the evil Spirits away with his Charms, and now he had arriv'd at a firm Persuasion, that there was no Dæmon, let him be ever so mischievous or impudent, that could possibly break into this Circle.
_Tho._ This _Faunus_ was not far from being a Fool.
_Ans._ You have heard nothing yet. The Comedy being thus far advanc'd, _Polus_'s Son-in-Law comes in very good Time, for he had married _Polus's_ eldest Daughter; he's a wonderful merry Droll, you know.
_Tho._ Know him! Ay, I know him, that he has no Aversion for such Tricks as these.
_Ans._ No Aversion, do you say, nay he would leave the most urgent Affair in the World, if such a Comedy were either to be seen or acted.
His Father-in-Law tells him the whole Story, and gives him his Part, that was, to act the Ghost. He puts on a Dress, and wraps himself up in a Shrowd, and carrying a live Coal in a Shell, it appear'd through his Shrowd as if something were burning. About Night he goes to the Place where this Play was acted, there were heard most doleful Moans. _Faunus_ lets fly all his Exorcisms. At Length the Ghost appears a good Way off in the Bushes, every now and then shewing the Fire, and making a rueful Groaning. While _Faunus_ was adjuring the Ghost to declare who he was, _Polus_ of a sudden leaps out of the Thicket, dress'd like a Devil, and making a Roaring, answers him, you have nothing to do with this Soul, it is mine; and every now and then runs to the very Edge of the Circle, as if he would set upon the Exorcist, and then retired back again, as if he was beaten back by the Words of the Exorcism, and the Power of the holy Water, which he threw upon him in great Abundance. At last when this guardian Devil was chased away, _Faunus_ enters into a Dialogue with the Soul. After he had been interrogated and abjured, he answers, that he was the Soul of a Christian Man, and being asked his Name, he answered _Faunus_. _Faunus_! replies the other, that's my Name. So then they being Name-Sakes, he laid the Matter more to Heart, that _Faunus_ might deliver _Faunus_. _Faunus_ asking a Multitude of Questions, lest a long Discourse should discover the Fraud, the Ghost retires, saying it was not permitted to stay to talk any longer, because its Time was come, that it must go whither its Devil pleased to carry it; but yet promised to come again the next Day, at what Hour it could be permitted. They meet together again at _Polus's_ House, who was the Master of the Show.
There the Exorcist relates what was done, and tho' he added some Lies to the Story, yet he believed them to be true himself, he was so heartily affected with the Matter in Hand. At last it appeared manifestly, that it was the Soul of a Christian who was vexed with the dreadful Torments of an unmerciful Devil: Now all the Endeavours are bent this Way. There happened a ridiculous Passage in the next Exorcism.
_Tho._ Prithee what was that?
_Ans._ When _Faunus_ had called up the Ghost, _Polus_, that acted the Devil, leap'd directly at him, as if he would, without any more to do, break into the Circle; and _Faunus_ he resisted stoutly with his Exorcisms, and had thrown a power of holy Water, the Devil at last cries out, that he did not value all this of a Rush; you have had to do with a Wench, and you are my own yourself. And tho' _Polus_ said so in Jest, it seemed that he had spoken Truth: For the Exorcist being touched with this Word, presently retreated to the very Centre of the Circle, and whispered something in the Priest's Ear. _Polus_ seeing that, retires, that he might not hear what it was not fit for him to hear.
_Tho._ In Truth, _Polus_ was a very modest, religious Devil.
_Ans._ He was so, otherwise he might have been blamed for not observing a _Decorum_, but yet he heard the Priest's Voice appointing him Satisfaction.
_Tho._ What was that?
_Ans._ That he should say the glorious 78th Psalm, three Times over, by which he conjectured he had had to do with her three Times that Night.
_Tho._ He was an irregular _Regular_.
_Ans._ They are but Men, and this is but human Frailty.
_Tho._ Well, proceed: what was done after this?
_Ans._ Now _Faunus_ more couragiously advances to the very Edge of the Circle, and challenges the Devil of his own Accord; but the Devil's Heart failed him, and he fled back. You have deceived me, says he, if I had been wise I had not given you that Caution: Many are of Opinion, that what you have once confess'd is immediately struck out of the