_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.
_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?
_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.
_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 _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.
_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?
_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.
_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 grave Decree, fitter to be writ in Wine than engrav'd in Brass.
_Ar._ Presently a Bumper was put about to our good Journey, which when every Man had taken off in his Turn, the Vote passed into an Act, and became inviolable.
_Co._ A new Religion! But did you all come safe back?
_Ar._ All but three, one dy'd by the Way, and gave us in Charge to give his humble Service to _Peter_ and _James_; another dy'd at _Rome_, who bad us remember him to his Wife and Children; and the third we left at _Florence_ dangerously ill, and I believe he is in Heaven before now.
_Co._ Was he so good a Man then?
_Ar._ The veriest Droll in Nature.
_Co._ Why do you think he is in Heaven then?
_Ar._ Because he had a whole Satchel full of large Indulgencies.
_Co._ I understand you, but it is a long Way to Heaven, and a very dangerous one too, as I am told, by reason of the little Thieves that infest the middle Region of the Air.
_Ar._ That's true, but he was well fortify'd with Bulls.
_Co._ What Language were they written in?
_Ar._ In _Latin_.
_Co._ And will they secure him?
_Ar._ Yes, unless he should happen upon some Spirit that does not understand _Latin_, in that Case he must go back to _Rome_, and get a new Passport.
_Co._ Do they sell Bulls there to dead Men too?
_Ar._ Yes.
_Co._ But by the Way, let me advise you to have a Care what you say, for now there are a great many Spies abroad.
_Ar._ I don't speak slightingly of Indulgencies themselves, but I laugh at the Folly of my fuddling Companion, who tho' he was the greatest Trifler that ever was born, yet chose rather to venture the whole Stress of his Salvation upon a Skin of Parchment than upon the Amendment of his Life. But when shall we have that merry Bout you spoke of just now?
_Co._ When Opportunity offers we'll set a Time for a small Collation, and invite some of our Comrades, there we will tell Lies, who can lye fastest, and divert one another with Lies till we have our Bellies full.
_Ar._ Come on, a Match.
The ARGUMENT.
_In this Colloquy those Persons are reprehended that run to and again to_ Rome _hunting after Benefices, and that oftentimes with the Hazard of the Corruption of their Morals, and the Loss of their Money. The Clergy are admonished to divert themselves with reading of good Books, rather than with a Concubine. Jocular Discourse concerning a long Nose_.
PAMPHAGUS, COCLES.
_PAM._ Either my Sight fails me, or this is my old Pot-Companion _Cocles_.
_Co._ No, no, your Eyes don't deceive you at all, you see a Companion that is yours heartily. Nobody ever thought to have seen you again, you have been gone so many Years, and no Body knew what was become of you.
But whence come you from? Prithee tell me.
_Pa._ From the _Antipodes_.
_Co._ Nay, but I believe you are come from the fortunate Islands.
_Pa._ I am glad you know your old Companion, I was afraid I should come home as _Ulysses_ did.
_Co._ Why pray? After what Manner did he come Home?
_Pa._ His own Wife did not know him; only his Dog, being grown very old, acknowledg'd his Master, by wagging his Tail.
_Co._ How many Years was he from Home?
_Pa._ Twenty.
_Co._ You have been absent more than twenty Years, and yet I knew your Face again. But who tells that Story of _Ulysses_?
_Pa._ _Homer._ _Co._ He? They say he's the Father of all fabulous Stories. It may be his Wife had gotten herself a Gallant in the mean time, and therefore did not know her own _Ulysses_.
_Pa._ No, nothing of that, she was one of the chastest Women in the World. But _Pallas_ had made _Ulysses_ look old, that he might not be known.
_Co._ How came he to be known at last?
_Pa._ By a little Wart that he had upon one of his Toes. His Nurse, who was now a very old Woman, took Notice of that as she was washing his Feet.
_Co._ A curious old Hagg. Well then, do you admire that I know you that have so remarkable a Nose.
_Pa._ I am not at all sorry for this Nose.
_Co._ No, nor have you any Occasion to be sorry for having a Thing that is fit for so many Uses.
_Pa._ For what Uses?
_Co._ First of all, it will serve instead of an Extinguisher, to put out Candles.
_Pa._ Go on.
_Co._ Again, if you want to draw any Thing out of a deep Pit, it will serve instead of an Elephant's Trunk.
_Pa._ O wonderful.
_Co._ If your Hands be employ'd, it will serve instead of a Pin.
_Pa._ Is it good for any Thing else?
_Co._ If you have no Bellows, it will serve to blow the Fire.
_Pa._ This is very pretty; have you any more of it?
_Co._ If the Light offends you when you are writing, it will serve for an Umbrella.
_Pa._ Ha, ha, ha! Have you any Thing more to say?
_Co._ In a Sea-fight it will serve for a Grappling-hook.
_Pa._ What will it serve for in a Land-fight?
_Co._ Instead of a Shield.
_Pa._ And what else?
_Co._ It will serve for a Wedge to cleave Wood withal.
_Pa._ Well said.
_Co._ If you act the Part of a Herald, it will be for a Trumpet; if you sound an Alarm, a Horn; if you dig, a Spade; if you reap, a Sickle; if you go to Sea, an Anchor; in the Kitchen it will serve for a Flesh-hook; and in Fishing a Fish-hook.
_Pa._ I am a happy Fellow indeed, I did not know I carry'd about me a Piece of Houshold Stuff that would serve for so many Uses.
_Co._ But in the mean Time, in what Corner of the Earth have you hid yourself all this While?
_Pa._ In _Rome_.
_Co._ But is it possible that in so publick a Place no Body should know you were alive?
_Pa._ Good Men are no where in the World so much _incognito_ as there, so that in the brightest Day you shall scarce see one in a throng'd Market.
_Co._ Well, but then you're come home loaden with Benefices.
_Pa._ Indeed I hunted after them diligently, but I had no Success; for the Way of Fishing there is according to the Proverb, with a golden Hook.
_Co._ That's a foolish Way of Fishing.
_Pa._ No Matter for that, some Folks find it a very good Way.
_Co._ Are they not the greatest Fools in Nature that change Gold for Lead?
_Pa._ But don't you know that there are Veins of Gold in holy Lead?
_Co._ What then! Are you come back nothing but a _Pamphagus_?
_Pa._ No.
_Co._ What then, pray?
_Pa._ A ravenous Wolf.
_Co._ But they make a better Voyage of it, that return laden with Budgets full of Benefices. Why had you rather have a Benefice than a Wife?
_Pa._ Because I love to live at Ease. I love to live a pleasant Life.
_Co._ But in my Opinion they live the most pleasant Life that have at Home a pretty Girl, that they may embrace as often as they have a Mind to it.
_Pa._ And you may add this to it, sometimes when they have no Mind to it. I love a continual Pleasure; he that marries a Wife is happy for a Month, but he that gets a fat Benefice lives merrily all his Life.
_Co._ But Solitude is so melancholy a Life, that _Adam_, in _Paradise_ could not have liv'd happily unless God had given him an _Eve_.
_Pa._ He'll ne'er need to want an _Eve_ that has gotten a good Benefice.
_Co._ But that Pleasure can't really be call'd Pleasure that carries an ill Name and bad Conscience with it.
_Pa._ You say true, and therefore I design to divert the Tediousness of Solitude by a Conversation with Books.
_Co._ They are the pleasantest Companions in the World. But do you intend to return to your Fishing again?
_Pa._ Yes, I would, if I could get a fresh Bait.
_Co._ Would you have a golden one or a silver one?
_Pa._ Either of them.
_Co._ Be of good Cheer, your Father will supply you.
_Pa._ He'll part with nothing; and especially he'll not trust me again, when he comes to understand I have spent what I had to no Purpose.
_Co._ That's the Chance of the Dice.
_Pa._ But he don't like those Dice.
_Co._ If he shall absolutely deny you, I'll shew you where you may have as much as you please.
_Pa._ You tell me good News indeed, come shew it me, my Heart leaps for Joy.
_Co._ It is here hard by.
_Pa._ Why, have you gotten a Treasure?
_Co._ If I had, I would have it for myself, not for you.
_Pa._ If I could but get together 100 Ducats I should be in Hopes again.
_Co._ I'll shew you where you may have 100,000.
_Pa._ Prithee put me out of my Pain then, and do not teaze me to Death.
Tell me where I may have it.
_Co._ From the _Asse Budæi_, there you may find a great many Ten Thousands, whether you'd have it Gold or Silver.
_Pa._ Go and be hang'd with your Banter, I'll pay you what I owe you out of that Bank.
_Co._ Ay, so you shall, but it shall be what I lend you out of it.
_Pa._ I know your waggish Tricks well enough.
_Co._ I'm not to be compar'd to you for that.
_Pa._ Nay, you are the veriest Wag in Nature, you are nothing but Waggery; you make a Jest of a serious Matter. In this Affair it is far easier Matter to teaze me than it is to please me. The Matter is of too great a Consequence to be made a Jest on. If you were in my Case you would not be so gamesome; you make a mere Game of me; you game and banter me. You joke upon me in a Thing that is not a joking Matter.
_Co._ I don't jeer you, I speak what I think. Indeed I do not laugh, I speak my Mind. I speak seriously. I speak from my Heart. I speak sincerely. I speak the Truth.
_Pa._ So may your Cap stand always upon your Head, as you speak sincerely. But do I stand loitering here, and make no haste Home to see how all Things go there?
_Co._ You'll find a great many Things new.
_Pa._ I believe I shall; but I wish I may find all Things as I would have them.
_Co._ We may all wish so if we will, but never any Body found it so yet.
_Pa._ Our Rambles will do us both this Good, that we shall like Home the better for Time to come.
_Co._ I can't tell that, for I have seen some that have play'd the same Game over and over again; if once this Infection seizes a Person he seldom gets rid of it.
The ARGUMENT.
_The wicked Life of Soldiers is here reprehended, and shewn to be very miserable: That War is Confusion, and a Sink of all manner of Vices, in as much as in it there is no Distinction made betwixt Things sacred and profane.
The Hope of Plunder allures many to become Soldiers. The Impieties of a Military Life are here laid open, by this Confession of a Soldier, that Youth may be put out of Conceit of going into the Army._ HANNO, THRASYMACHUS.
_Hanno._ How comes it about that you that went away a _Mercury_, come back a _Vulcan_?
_Thr._ What do you talk to me of your _Mercuries_ and your _Vulcans_ for?
_Ha._ Because you seem'd to be ready to fly when you went away, but you're come limping Home.
_Thr._ I'm come back like a Soldier then.
_Ha._ You a Soldier, that would out-run a Stag if an Enemy were at your Heels.
_Thr._ The Hope of Booty made me valiant.
_Ha._ Well, have you brought Home a good Deal of Plunder then?
_Thr._ Empty Pockets.
_Ha._ Then you were the lighter for travelling.
_Thr._ But I was heavy loaden with Sin.
_Ha._ That's heavy Luggage indeed, if the Prophet says right, who calls Sin Lead.
_Thr._ I have seen and had a Hand in more Villanies this Campaign than in the whole Course of my Life before.
_Ha._ How do you like a Soldier's Life?
_Thr._ There is no Course of Life in the. World more wicked or more wretched.
_Ha._ What then must be in the Minds of those People, that for the Sake of a little Money, and some out of Curiosity, make as much Haste to a Battel as to a Banquet?
_Thr._ In Truth, I can think no other but they are possess'd; for if the Devil were not in them they would never anticipate their Fate.
_Ha._ So one would think, for if you'd put 'em upon any honest Business, they'll scarce stir a Foot in it for any Money. But tell me, how went the Battel? Who got the better on't?
_Thr._ There was such a Hallooing, Hurly-burly, Noise of Guns, Trumpets and Drums, Neighing of Horses, and Shouting of Men, that I was so far from knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I was myself.
_Ha._ How comes it about then that others, after a Fight is over, do paint you out every Circumstance so to the Life, and tell you what such an Officer said, and what t'other did, as tho' they had been nothing but Lookers on all the Time, and had been every where at the same Time?
_Thr._ It is my Opinion that they lye confoundedly. I can tell you what was done in my own Tent, but as to what was done in the Battel, I know nothing at all of that.
_Ha._ Don't you know how you came to be lame neither?
_Thr._ Scarce that upon my Honour, but I suppose my Knee was hurt by a Stone, or a Horse-heel, or so.
_Ha._ Well, but I can tell you.
_Thr._ You tell me? Why, has any Body told you?
_Ha._ No, but I guess.
_Thr._ Tell me then.
_Ha._ When you were running away in a Fright, you fell down and hit it against a Stone.
_Thr._ Let me die if you han't hit the Nail on the Head.
_Ha._ Go, get you Home, and tell your Wife of your Exploits.
_Thr._ She'll read me a Juniper-Lecture for coming Home in such a Pickle.
_Ha._ But what Restitution will you make for what you have stolen?
_Thr._ That's made already.
_Ha._ To whom?
_Thr._ Why, to Whores, Sutlers, and Gamesters.
_Ha._ That's like a Soldier for all the World, it's but just that what's got over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly.
_Ha._ But I hope you have kept your Fingers all this While from Sacrilege?
_Thr._ There's nothing sacred in Hostility, there we neither spare private Houses nor Churches.
_Ha._ How will you make Satisfaction?
_Thr._ They say there is no Satisfaction to be made for what is done in War, for all Things are lawful there.
_Ha._ You mean by the Law of Arms, I suppose?
_Thr._ You are right.
_Ha._ But that Law is the highest Injustice. It was not the Love of your Country, but the Love of Booty that made you a Soldier.
_Thr._ I confess so, and I believe very few go into the Army with any better Design.
_Ha._ It is indeed some Excuse to be mad with the greater Part of Mankind.
_Thr._ I have heard a Parson say in his Pulpit that War was lawful.
_Ha._ Pulpits indeed are the Oracles of Truth. But War may be lawful for a Prince, and yet not so for you.
_Thr._ I have heard that every Man must live by his Trade.
_Ha._ A very honourable Trade indeed to burn Houses, rob Churches, ravish Nuns, plunder the Poor, and murder the Innocent!
_Thr._ Butchers are hired to kill Beasts; and why is our Trade found Fault with who are hired to kill Men?
_Ha._ But was you never thoughtful what should become of your Soul if you happen'd to be kill'd in the Battel?
_Thr._ Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my Mind, having once for all commended myself to St. _Barbara_.
_Ha._ And did she take you under her Protection?
_Thr._ I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little Nod.
_Ha._ What Time was it? In the Morning?
_Thr._ No, no, 'twas after Supper.
_Ha._ And by that Time I suppose the Trees seem'd to walk too?
_Thr._ How this Man guesses every Thing! But St. _Christopher_ was the Saint I most depended on, whose Picture I had always in my Eye.
_Ha._ What in your Tent?
_Thr._ We had drawn him with Charcoal upon our Sail-cloth.