Chapter XIV: Part 14

_Gl._ Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage to myself from the Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as I could, that which the _Greeks_ call Freedom from the Encumbrance of Business. I intermeddled with no one's Affairs; but especially I kept myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the Part of _Mitio_ in the Comedy, I affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens.

_Pa._ Did you not find a single Life irksome to you?

_Gl._ Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the Comfort of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both, and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased.

_Pol._ What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the first having been so happy a Match to you?

_Gl._ I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again.

_Pol._ But 'tis a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a Bedfellow.

_Gl._ Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one _Crates_ seemed to be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life. And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now _Metrodorus_ pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd.

_Pa._ Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than _Thales_ himself.

_Gl._ If any Uneasiness in my Mind rises, (as mortal Life produces many of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomly.

_Pol._ Well, but there are some Provocations that would raise the Anger of the most patient Man alive: As the Saucinesses of Servants frequently are.

_Gl._ I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at first, which after a little While, Time itself would do. And this I be sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to go to Bed with me.

_Eu._ No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper.

_Gl._ Well, and that I mayn't conceal any thing from Friends, in an especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, [Greek: euthymia]. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury.

_Eu._ Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of Death?

_Gl._ No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die, and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a Man can't live happily that does not live piously.

_Pa._ But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in the same Place, tho' it were _Rome_ itself.

_Gl._ The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for twenty Years together, as _Ulysses_ did. I have a little Country-House about two Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a Country-Man, and having recreated my self there, I return again to the City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from the new-found Islands.

_Eu._ Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick?

_Gl._ I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet. If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet or the Country Air.

_Eu._ Don't you study sometimes?

_Gl._ I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I have read; or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after a While I return to my Book again.

_Eu._ But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many?

_Gl._ My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix any thing deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept myself young, and now let _Polygamus_ tell us fairly, how he brought old Age upon him to that Degree.

_Po._ Indeed, I will hide nothing from such trusty Companions.

_Eu._ You will tell it to those that will not make a Discourse of it.

_Po._ You very well know I indulg'd my Appetite when I was at _Paris_.

_Eu._ We remember it very well. But we thought that you had left your rakish Manners and your youthful Way of Living at _Paris_.

_Po._ Of the many Mistresses I had there I took one Home, who was big with Child.

_Eu._ What, into your Father's House?

_Po._ Directly thither; but I pretended she was a Friend's Wife, who was to come to her in a little Time.

_Gl._ Did your Father believe it?

_Po._ He smelt the Matter out in three or four Days time, and then there was a cruel Scolding. However, in this Interim I did not leave off Feasting, Gaming, and other extravagant Diversions. And in short, my Father continuing to rate me, saying he would have no such cackling Gossips under his Roof, and ever and anon threatning to discard me, I march'd off, remov'd to another Place with my Pullet, and she brought me some young Chickens.

_Pa._ Where had you Money all the While?

_Po._ My Mother gave me some by Stealth, and I ran over Head and Ears in Debt.

_Eu._ Had any Body so little Wit as to lend you?

_Po._ There are some Persons who will trust no Body more readily than they will a Spendthrift.

_Pa._ And what next?

_Po._ At last my Father was going about to disinherit me in good earnest. Some Friends interpos'd, and made up the Breach upon this Condition; that I should renounce the _French_ Woman, and marry one of our own Country.

_Eu._ Was she your Wife?

_Po._ There had past some Words between us in the future Tense, but there had been carnal Copulation in the present Tense.

_Eu._ How could you leave her then?

_Po._ It came to be known afterwards, that my _French_ Woman had a _French_ Husband that she had elop'd from some Time before.

_Eu._ But it seems you have a Wife now.

_Po._ None besides this which is my Eighth.

_Eu._ The Eighth! Why then you were named _Polygamus_ by Way of Prophecy. Perhaps they all died without Children.

_Po._ Nay, there was not one of them but left me a Litter which I have at Home.

_Eu._ I had rather have so many Hens at Home, which would lay me Eggs. An't you weary of wifeing?

_Po._ I am so weary of it, that if this Eighth should die to Day, I would marry the Ninth to-Morrow. Nay, it vexes me that I must not have two or three, when one Cock has so many Hens.

_Eu._ Indeed I don't wonder, Mr. Cock, that you are no fatter, and that you have brought old Age upon you to that Degree; for nothing brings on old Age faster, than excessive and hard Drinking, keeping late Hours, and Whoring, extravagant Love of Women, and immoderate Venery. But who maintains your Family all this While?

_Po._ A small Estate came to me by the Death of my Father, and I work hard with my Hands.

_Eu._ Have you given over Study then?

_Po._ Altogether. I have brought a Noble to Nine Pence, and of a Master of seven Arts, I am become a Workman of but one Art.

_Eu._ Poor Man! So many Times you were obliged to be a Mourner, and so many Times a Widower.

_Po._ I never liv'd single above ten Days, and the new Wife always put an End to the Mourning for the old one. So, you have in Truth the Epitome of my Life; and I wish _Pampirus_ would give us a Narration of his Life; he bears his Age well enough: For if I am not mistaken, he is two or three Years older than I.

_Pa._ Truly I'll tell it ye, if you are at Leisure to hear such a Romance.

_Eu._ Nay, it will be a Pleasure to hear it.

_Pa._ When I went Home my antient Father began to press me earnestly to enter into some Course of Life, that might make some Addition to what I had; and after long Consultation Merchandizing was what I took to.

_Po._ I admire this Way of Life pleas'd you more than any other.

_Pa._ I was naturally greedy to know new Things, to see various Countries and Cities, to learn Languages, and the Customs and Manners of Men, and Merchandize seem'd the most apposite to that Purpose. From which a general Knowledge of Things proceeds.

_Po._ But a wretched one, which is often purchas'd with Inconveniencies.

_Pa._ It is so, therefore my Father gave me a good large Stock, that I might begin to trade upon a good Foundation: And at the same Time I courted a Wife with a good Fortune, but handsome enough to have gone off without a Portion.

_Eu._ Did you succeed?

_Pa._ No. Before I came Home, I lost all, Stock and Block.

_Eu._ Perhaps by Shipwreck.

_Pa._ By Shipwreck indeed. For we run upon more dangerous Rocks than those of _Scilly_.

_Eu._ In what Sea did you happen to run upon that Rock? Or what is the Name of it?

_Pa._ I can't tell what Sea 'tis in, but it is a Rock that is infamous for the destruction of a great many, they call it _Alea_ [Dice, the Devil's Bones] in _Latin_, how you call it in _Greek_ I can't tell.

_Eu._ O Fool!

_Pa._ Nay, my Father was a greater Fool, to trust a young Fop with such a Sum of Money.

_Gl._ And what did you do next?

_Pa._ Why nothing at all, but I began to think of hanging myself.

_Gl._ Was your Father so implacable then? For such a Loss might be made up again; and an Allowance is always to be made to one that makes the first Essay, and much more it ought to be to one that tries all Things.

_Pa._ Tho' what you say may be true, I lost my Wife in the mean Time. For as soon as the Maid's Parents came to understand what they must expect, they would have no more to do with me, and I was over Head and Ears in Love.

_Gl._ I pity thee. But what did you propose to yourself after that?

_Pa._ To do as it is usual in desperate Cases. My Father had cast me off, my Fortune was consum'd, my Wife was lost, I was every where call'd a Sot, a Spendthrift, a Rake and what not? Then I began to deliberate seriously with myself, whether I should hang myself or no, or whether I should throw myself into a Monastery.

_Eu._ You were cruelly put to it! I know which you would chuse, the easier Way of Dying.

_Pa._ Nay, sick was I of Life itself; I pitched upon that which seem'd to me the most painful.

_Gl._ And yet many People cast themselves into Monasteries, that they may live more comfortably there.

_Pa._ Having got together a little Money to bear my Charges, I stole out of my own Country.

_Gl._ Whither did you go at last?

_Pa._ Into _Ireland_, there I became a Canon Regular of that Order that wear Linnen outwards and Woollen next their Skin.

_Gl._ Did you spend your Winter in _Ireland_?

_Pa._ No. But by that Time I had been among them two Months I sail'd into _Scotland_.

_Gl._ What displeas'd you among them?

_Pa._ Nothing, but that I thought their Discipline was not severe enough for the Deserts of one, that once Hanging was too good for.

_Gl._ Well, what past in _Scotland_?

_Pa._ Then I chang'd my Linnen Habit for a Leathern one, among the Carthusians.

_Eu._ These are the Men, that in Strictness of Profession, are dead to the World.

_Pa._ It seem'd so to me, when I heard them Singing.

_Gl._ What? Do dead Men sing? But how many Months did you spend among the _Scots_?

_Pa._ Almost six.

_Gl._ A wonderful Constancy.

_Eu._ What offended you there?

_Pa._ Because it seem'd to me to be a lazy, delicate Sort of Life; and then I found there, many that were not of a very sound Brain, by Reason of their Solitude. I had but a little Brain myself, and I was afraid I should lose it all.

_Po._ Whither did you take your next Flight?

_Pa._ Into France: There I found some cloath'd all in Black, of the Order of St. Benedict, who intimate by the Colour of their Cloaths, that they are Mourners in this World; and among these, there were some, that for their upper Garment wore Hair-Cloth like a Net.

_Gl._ A grievous Mortification of the Flesh.

_Pa._ Here I stay'd eleven Months.

_Eu._ What was the Matter that you did not stay there for good and all?

_Pa._ Because I found there were more Ceremonies than true Piety: And besides, I heard that there were some who were much holier, which _Bernard_ had enjoin'd a more severe Discipline, the black Habit being chang'd into a white one; with these I liv'd ten Months.

_Eu._ What disgusted you here?

_Pa._ I did not much dislike any Thing, for I found them very good Company; but the _Greek_ Proverb ran in my Mind;

[Greek: Dei tas chelônas ê phagein ê mê phagein.]

_One must either eat Snails, or eat nothing at all._

Therefore I came to a Resolution, either not to be a Monk, or to be a Monk to Perfection. I had heard there were some of the Order of St. _Bridget_, that were really heavenly Men, I betook myself to these.

_Eu._ How many Months did you stay there?

_Pa._ Two Days; but not quite that.

_Gl._ Did that Kind of Life please you no better than so?

_Pa._ They take no Body in, but those that will profess themselves presently; but I was not yet come to that Pitch of Madness, so easily to put my Neck into such a Halter, that I could never get off again. And as often as I heard the Nuns singing, the Thoughts of my Mistress that I had lost, tormented my Mind.

_Gl._ Well, and what after this?

_Pa._ My Mind was inflamed with the Love of Holiness; nor yet had I met with any Thing that could satisfy it. At last, as I was walking up and down, I fell in among some Cross-Bearers. This Badge pleas'd me at first Sight; but the Variety hindered me from chusing which to take to. Some carried a white Cross, some a red Cross, some a green Cross, some a party-colour'd Cross, some a single Cross, some a double one, some a quadruple, and others some of one Form, and some of another; and I, that I might leave nothing untry'd, I carried some of every Sort. But I found in reality, that there was a great Difference between carrying a Cross on a Gown or a Coat, and carrying it in the Heart. At last, being tired with Enquiry, it came into my Mind, that to arrive at universal Holiness all at once, I would take a Journey to the holy Land, and so would return Home with a Back-Load of Sanctimony.

_Po._ And did you go thither?

_Pa._ Yes.

_Po._ Where did you get Money to bear your Charges?

_Pa._ I wonder it never came into your Head, to ask that before now, and not to have enquir'd after that a great While ago: But you know the old Proverb; _a Man of Art will live any where_.

_Gl._ What Art do you carry with you?

_Pa._ Palmistry.

_Gl._ Where did you learn it?

_Pa._ What signifies that?

_Gl._ Who was your Master?

_Pa._ My Belly, the great Master of all Arts: I foretold Things past, present, and to come.

_Gl._ And did you know any Thing of the Matter?

_Pa._ Nothing at all; but I made bold Guesses, and run no Risque neither, having got my Money first.

_Po._ And was so ridiculous an Art sufficient to maintain you?

_Pa._ It was, and two Servants too: There is every where such a Number of foolish young Fellows and Wenches. However, when I came to _Jerusalem_, I put myself into the Train of a rich Nobleman, who being seventy Years of Age, said he could never have died in Peace, unless he had first visited _Jerusalem_.

_Eu._ What, did he leave a Wife at Home?

_Pa._ Yes, and six Children.

_Eu._ O impious, pious, old Man! Well, and did you come back holy from thence?

_Pa._ Shall I tell you the Truth? Somewhat worse than I went.

_Eu._ So, as I hear, your Religion was grown cool.

_Pa._ Nay, it grew more hot: So I went back into _Italy_, and enter'd into the Army.

_Eu._ What, then, did you look for Religion in the Camp. Than which, what is there that can be more impious?

_Pa._ It was a holy War.

_Eu._ Perhaps against the _Turks_.

_Pa._ Nay, more holy than that, as they indeed gave out at that Time.

_Eu._ What was that?

_Pa._ Pope _Julius_ the Second made War upon the _French_. And the Experience of many Things that it gives a Man, made me fancy a Soldier's Life.

_Eu._ Of many Things indeed; but wicked ones.

_Pa._ So I found afterwards: But however, I liv'd harder here, than I did in the Monasteries.

_Eu._ And what did you do after this?

_Pa._ Now my Mind began to be wavering, whether I should return to my Business of a Merchant, that I had laid aside, or press forward in Pursuit of Religion that fled before me. In the mean Time it came into my Mind, that I might follow both together.

_Eu._ What, be a Merchant and a Monk both together?

_Pa._ Why not? There is nothing more religious than the Orders of Mendicants, and there is nothing more like to Trading. They fly over Sea and Land, they see many Things, they hear many Things, they enter into the Houses of common People, Noblemen, and Kings.

_Eu._ Ay, but they don't Trade for Gain.

_Pa._ Very often, with better Success than we do.

_Eu._ Which of these Orders did you make Choice of?

_Pa._ I try'd them all.

_Eu._ Did none of them please you?

_Pa._ I lik'd them all well enough, if I might but presently have gone to Trading; but I consider'd in my Mind, I must labour a long Time in the Choir, before I could be qualified for the Trust: So now I began to think how I might get to be made an Abbot: But, I thought with myself, _Kissing goes by Favour_, and it will be a tedious Pursuit: So having spent eight Years after this Manner, hearing of my Father's Death, I return'd Home, and by my Mother's Advice, I marry'd, and betook myself to my old Business of Traffick.

_Gl._ Prithee tell me, when you chang'd your Habit so often, and were transform'd, as it were, into another Sort of Creature, how could you behave yourself with a proper Decorum?

_Pa._ Why not, as well as those who in the same Comedy act several Parts?

_Eu._ Tell us now in good earnest, you that have try'd every Sort of Life, which you most approve of.

_Pa. So many Men, so many Minds:_ I like none better than this which I follow.

_Eu._ But there are a great many Inconveniences attend it.

_Pa._ There are so. But seeing there is no State of Life, that is entirely free from Incommodities, this being my Lot, I make the best on't: But now here is _Eusebius_ still, I hope he will not think much to acquaint his Friends with some Scenes of his Course of Life.

_Eu._ Nay, with the whole Play of it, if you please to hear it, for it does not consist of many Acts.

_Gl._ It will be a very great Favour.

_Eu._ When I return'd to my own Country, I took a Year to deliberate what Way of Living to chuse, and examin'd myself, to what Employment my Inclination led me, and I was fit for. In the mean Time a Prebendary was offered me, as they call it; it was a good fat Benefice, and I accepted it.

_Gl._ That Sort of Life has no good Reputation among People.

_Eu._ As human Affairs go, I thought it was a Thing well worth the accepting. Do you look upon it a small Happiness to have so many Advantages to fall into a Man's Mouth, as tho' they dropt out of Heaven; handsome Houses well furnish'd, a large Revenue, an honourable Society, and a Church at Hand, to serve God in, when you have a Mind to it?

_Pa._ I was scandaliz'd at the Luxury of the Persons, and the Infamy of their Concubines; and because a great many of that Sort of Men have an Aversion to Learning.

_Eu._ I don't mind what others do, but what I ought to do myself, and associate myself with the better Sort, if I cannot make them that are bad better.

_Po._ And is that the State of Life you have always liv'd in?

_Eu._ Always, except four Years, that I liv'd at _Padua_.

_Po._ What did you do there?

_Eu._ These Years I divided in this Manner; I studied Physick a Year and a half, and the rest of the Time Divinity.

_Po._ Why so?

_Eu._ That I might the better manage both Soul and Body, and also sometimes be helpful by Way of Advice to my Friends. I preached sometimes according to my Talent. And under these Circumstances, I have led a very quiet Life, being content with a single Benefice, not being ambitiously desirous of any more, and should have refus'd it, if it had been offered me.

_Pa._ I wish we could learn how the rest of our old Companions have liv'd, that were our Familiars.

_Eu._ I can tell you somewhat of some of them: but I see we are not far from the City; therefore, if you are willing, we will all take up the same Inn, and there we will talk over the rest at Leisure.

_Hugh. [a Waggoner.]_ You blinking Fellow, where did you take up this Rubbish?

_Harry the Waggoner._ Where are you carrying that Harlottry, you Pimp?

_Hugh._ You ought to throw these frigid old Fellows somewhere into a Bed of Nettles, to make them grow warm again.

_Harry._ Do you see that you shoot that Herd of yours somewhere into a Pond to cool them, to lay their Concupiscence, for they are too hot.

_Hugh._ I am not us'd to overturn my Passengers.

_Harry._ No? but I saw you a little While ago, overturn Half a Dozen Carthusians into the Mire, so that tho' they went in white, they came out black, and you stood grinning at it, as if you had done some noble Exploit.

_Hugh._ I was in the Right of it, they were all asleep, and added a dead Weight to my Waggon.

_Harry._ But these old Gentlemen, by talking merrily all the Way, have made my Waggon go light. I never had a better Fare.

_Hugh._ But you don't use to like such Passengers.

_Harry._ But these are good old Men.

_Hugh._ How do you know that?

_Harry._ Because they made me drink humming Ale, three Times by the Way.

_Hugh._ Ha, ha, ha, then they are good to you.

_The FRANCISCANS,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or RICH BEGGARS._

The ARGUMENT.

_The_ Franciscans, _or rich poor Persons, are not
admitted into the House of a Country Parson_. Pandocheus
_jokes wittily upon them. The Habit is not to be
accounted odious. The Life and Death of the_ Franciscans.
_Of the foolish Pomp of Habits. The Habits of Monks are
not in themselves evil. What Sort of Persons Monks ought
to be. The Use of Garments is for Necessity and Decency.
What Decency is. Whence arose the Variety of Habits and
Garments among the Monks. That there was in old Time no
Superstition in the Habits._

CONRADE, _a Bernardine_ Monk, _a_ Parson, _an_ Inn-Keeper _and his_ Wife.

_Con._ Hospitality becomes a Pastor.

_Pars._ But I am a Pastor of Sheep; I don't love Wolves.

_Con._ But perhaps you don't hate a Wench so much. But what Harm have we done you, that you have such an Aversion to us, that you won't so much as admit us under your Roof? We won't put you to the Charge of a Supper.

_Pars._ I'll tell ye, because if you spy but a Hen or a Chicken in a Body's House, I should be sure to hear of it to-Morrow in the Pulpit. This is the Gratitude you shew for your being entertain'd.

_Con._ We are not all such Blabs.

_Pars._ Well, be what you will, I'd scarce put Confidence in St. _Peter_ himself, if he came to me in such a Habit.

_Con._ If that be your Resolution, at least tell us where is an Inn.

_Pars._ There's a publick Inn here in the Town.

_Con._ What Sign has it?

_Pars._ Upon a Board that hangs up, you will see a Dog thrusting his Head into a Porridge-Pot: This is acted to the Life in the Kitchen; and a Wolf sits at the Bar.

_Con._ That's an unlucky Sign.

_Pars._ You may e'en make your best on't.

_Ber._ What Sort of a Pastor is this? we might be starv'd for him.

_Con._ If he feeds his Sheep no better than he feeds us, they must needs be very lean.

_Ber._ In a difficult Case, we had Need of good Counsel: What shall we do?

_Con._ We must set a good Face on't.

_Ber._ There's little to be gotten by Modesty, in a Case of Necessity.

_Con._ Very right, St. _Francis_ will be with us.

_Ber._ Let's try our Fortune then.

_Con._ We won't stay for our Host's Answer at the Door, but we'll rush directly into the Stove, and we won't easily be gotten out again.

_Ber._ O impudent Trick!

_Con._ This is better than to lie abroad all Night, and be frozen to Death. In the mean Time, put Bashfulness in your Wallet to Day, and take it out again to-Morrow.

_Ber._ Indeed, the Matter requires it.

_Innk._ What Sort of Animals do I see here?

_Con._ We are the Servants of God, and the Sons of St. _Francis_, good Man.

_Innk._ I don't know what Delight God may take in such Servants; but I would not have many of them in my House.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ Because at Eating and Drinking, you are more than Men; but you have neither Hands nor Feet to work. Ha, ha! You Sons of St. _Francis_, you use to tell us in the Pulpit, that he was a pure Batchelor, and has he got so many Sons?

_Con._ We are the Children of the Spirit, not of the Flesh.

_Innk._ A very unhappy Father, for your Mind is the worst Part about you; but your Bodies are too lusty, and as to that Part of you, it is better with you, than 'tis for our Interest, who have Wives and Daughters.

_Con._ Perhaps you suspect that we are some of those that degenerate from the Institutions of our Founder; we are strict Observers of them.

_Innk._ And I'll observe you too, that you don't do me any Damage, for I have a mortal Aversion for this Sort of Cattle.

_Con._ Why so, I pray?

_Innk._ Because you carry Teeth in your Head, but no Money in your Pocket; and such Sort of Guests are very unwelcome to me.

_Con._ But we take Pains for you.

_Innk._ Shall I shew you after what Manner you labour for me?

_Con._ Do, shew us.

_Innk._ Look upon that Picture there, just by you, on your left Hand, there you'll see a Wolf a Preaching, and behind him a Goose, thrusting her Head out of a Cowl: There again, you'll see a Wolf absolving one at Confession; but a Piece of a Sheep, hid under his Gown, hangs out. There you see an Ape in a _Franciscan_'s Habit, he holds forth a Cross in one Hand, and has the other Hand in the sick Man's Purse.

_Con._ We don't deny, but sometimes Wolves, Foxes and Apes are cloathed with this Habit, nay we confess oftentimes that Swine, Dogs, Horses, Lions and Basilisks are conceal'd under it; but then the same Garment covers many honest Men. As a Garment makes no Body better, so it makes no Body worse. It is unjust to judge of a Man by his Cloaths; for if so, the Garment that you wear sometimes were to be accounted detestable, because it covers many Thieves, Murderers, Conjurers, and Whoremasters.

_Innk._ Well, I'll dispense with your Habit, if you'll but pay your Reckonings.

_Con._ We'll pray to God for you.

_Innk._ And I'll pray to God for you, and there's one for t'other.

_Con._ But there are some Persons that you must not take Money of.

_Innk._ How comes it that you make a Conscience of touching any?

_Con._ Because it does not consist with our Profession.

_Innk._ Nor does it stand with my Profession to entertain Guests for nothing.

_Con._ But we are tied up by a Rule not to touch Money.

_Innk._ And my Rule commands me quite the contrary.

_Con._ What Rule is yours?

_Innk._ Read those Verses:

_Guests at this Table, when you've eat while you're able.
Rise not hence before you have first paid your Score._

_Con._ We'll be no Charge to you.

_Innk._ But they that are no Charge to me are no Profit to me neither.

_Con._ If you do us any good Office here, God will make it up to you sufficiently.

_Innk._ But these Words won't keep my Family.

_Con._ We'll hide ourselves in some Corner of the Stove, and won't be troublesome to any Body.

_Innk._ My Stove won't hold such Company.

_Con._ What, will you thrust us out of Doors then? It may be we shall be devour'd by Wolves to Night.

_Innk._ Neither Wolves nor Dogs will prey upon their own Kind.

_Con._ If you do so you will be more cruel than the _Turks_. Let us be what we will, we are Men.

_Innk._ I have lost my Hearing.

_Con._ You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if the Wolves should not devour us?

_Innk._ _Adam_ liv'd so in Paradise.

_Con._ He did so, but then he was innocent.

_Innk._ And so am I innocent.

_Con._ Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into his.

_Innk._ Good Words, I beseech you.

_Wife._ Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't.

_Innk._ Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman; Good Men!

_Wife._ Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors?

_Innk._ What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind your Kitchen.

_Wife._ Well, so I will.

_Bert._ The Man softens methinks, and he is taking his Shirt, I hope all will be well by and by.

_Con._ And the Servants are laying the Cloth. It is happy for us that no Guests come, for we should have been sent packing if they had.

_Bert._ It fell out very happily that we brought a Flaggon of Wine from the last Town we were at, and a roasted Leg of Lamb, or else, for what I see here, he would not have given us so much as a Mouthful of Hay.

_Con._ Now the Servants are set down, let's take Part of the Table with them, but so that we don't incommode any Body.

_Innk._ I believe I may put it to your Score, that I have not a Guest to Day, nor any besides my own Family, and you good-for-nothing ones.

_Con._ Well, put it up to our Score, if it has not happened to you often.

_Innk._ Oftner than I would have it so.

_Con._ Well, don't be uneasy; Christ lives, and he'll never forsake his Servants.

_Innk._ I have heard you are call'd evangelical Men; but the Gospel forbids carrying about Satchels and Bread, but I see you have great Sleeves for Wallets, and you don't only carry Bread, but Wine too, and Flesh also, and that of the best Sort.

_Con._ Take Part with us, if you please.

_Innk._ My Wine is Hog-Wash to it.

_Con._ Eat some of the Flesh, there is more than enough for us.

_Innk._ O happy Beggars! My Wife has dress'd nothing to Day, but Coleworts and a little rusty Bacon.

_Con._ If you please, let us join our Stocks; it is all one to us what we eat.

_Innk._ Then why don't you carry with you Coleworts and dead Wine?

_Con._ Because the People where we din'd to Day would needs force this upon us.

_Innk._ Did your Dinner cost you nothing?

_Con._ No. Nay they thanked us, and when we came away gave us these Things to carry along with us.

_Innk._ From whence did you come?

_Con._ From _Basil._

_Innk._ Whoo! what so far?

_Con._ Yes.

_Innk._ What Sort of Fellows are you that ramble about thus without Horses, Money, Servants, Arms, or Provisions?

_Con._ You see in us some Footsteps of the evangelical Life.

_Innk._ It seems to me to be the Life of Vagabonds, that stroll about with Budgets.

_Con._ Such Vagabonds the Apostles were, and such was the Lord Jesus himself.

_Innk._ Can you tell Fortunes?

_Con._ Nothing less.

_Innk._ How do you live then?

_Con._ By him, who hath promised.

_Innk._ Who is he?

_Con._ He that said, _Take no Care, but all Things shall be added unto you_.

_Innk._ He did so promise, but it was _to them that seek the Kingdom of God._

_Con._ That we do with all our Might.

_Innk._ The Apostles were famous for Miracles; they heal'd the Sick, so that it is no Wonder how they liv'd every where, but you can do no such Thing.

_Con._ We could, if we were like the Apostles, and if the Matter requir'd a Miracle. But Miracles were only given for a Time for the Conviction of the Unbelieving; there is no Need of any Thing now, but a religious Life. And it is oftentimes a greater Happiness to be sick than to be well, and more happy to die than to live.

_Innk._ What do you do then?

_Con._ That we can; every Man according to the Talent that God has given him. We comfort, we exhort, we warn, we reprove, and when Opportunity offers, sometimes we preach, if we any where find Pastors that are dumb: And if we find no Opportunity of doing Good, we take Care to do no Body any Harm, either by our Manners or our Words.

_Innk._ I wish you would preach for us to Morrow, for it is a Holy-Day.

_Con._ For what Saint?

_Innk._ To St. _Antony._

_Con._ He was indeed a good Man. But how came he to have a Holiday?

_Innk._ I'll tell you. This Town abounds with Swine-Herds, by Reason of a large Wood hard by that produces Plenty of Acorns; and the People have an Opinion that St. _Antony_ takes Charge of the Hogs, and therefore they worship him, for Fear he should grow angry, if they neglect him.

_Con._ I wish they would worship him as they ought to do.

_Innk._ How's that?

_Con._ Whosoever imitates the Saints in their Lives, worships as he ought to do.

_Innk._ To-morrow the Town will ring again with Drinking and Dancing, Playing, Scolding and Boxing.

_Con._ After this Manner the Heathens once worshipped their _Bacchus_. But I wonder, if this is their Way of worshipping, that St. _Antony_ is not enraged at this Sort of Men that are more stupid than Hogs themselves. What Sort of a Pastor have you? A dumb one, or a wicked one?

_Innk._ What he is to other People, I don't know: But he's a very good one to me, for he drinks all Day at my House, and no Body brings more Customers or better, to my great Advantage. And I wonder he is not here now.

_Con._ We have found by Experience he is not a very good one for our Turn.

_Innk._ What! Did you go to him then?

_Con._ We intreated him to let us lodge with him, but he chas'd us away from the Door, as if we had been Wolves, and sent us hither.

_Innk._ Ha, ha. Now I understand the Matter, he would not come because he knew you were to be here.

_Con._ Is he a dumb one?

_Innk._ A dumb one! There's no Body is more noisy in the Stove, and he makes the Church ring again. But I never heard him preach. But no Need of more Words. As far as I understand, he has made you sensible that he is none of the dumb Ones.

_Con._ Is he a learned Divine?

_Innk._ He says he is a very great Scholar; but what he knows is what he has learned in private Confession, and therefore it is not lawful to let others know what he knows. What need many Words? I'll tell you in short; _like People, like Priest_; and _the Dish_, as we say, _wears its own Cover_.

_Con._ It may be he will not give a Man Liberty to preach in his Place.

_Innk._ Yes, I'll undertake he will, but upon this Condition, that you don't have any Flirts at him, as it is a common Practice for you to do.

_Con._ They have us'd themselves to an ill Custom that do so. If a Pastor offends in any Thing, I admonish him privately, the rest is the Bishop's Business.

_Innk._ Such Birds seldom fly hither. Indeed you seem to be good Men yourselves. But, pray, what's the Meaning of this Variety of Habits? For a great many People take you to be ill Men by your Dress.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ I can't tell, except it be that they find a great many of you to be so.

_Con._ And many again take us to be holy Men, because we wear this Habit. They are both in an Error: But they err less that take us to be good Men by our Habit, than they that take us for base Men.

_Innk._ Well, so let it be. But what is the Advantage of so many different Dresses?

_Con._ What is your Opinion?

_Innk._ Why I see no Advantage at all, except in Processions, or War. For in Processions there are carried about various Representations of Saints, of _Jews_, and Heathens, and we know which is which, by the different Habits. And in War the Variety of Dress is good, that every one may know his own Company, and follow his own Colours, so that there may be no Confusion in the Army.

_Con._ You say very well: This is a military Garment, one of us follows one Leader, and another another; but we all fight under one General, Christ. But in a Garment there are three Things to be consider'd.

_Innk._ What are they?

_Con._ Necessity, Use, and Decency. Why do we eat?

_Innk._ That we mayn't be starv'd with Hunger.

_Con._ And for the very same Reason we take a Garment that we mayn't be starv'd with Cold.

_Innk._ I confess it.

_Con._ This Garment of mine is better for that than yours. It covers the Head, Neck, and Shoulders, from whence there is the most Danger. Use requires various Sorts of Garments. A short Coat for a Horseman, a long one for one that sits still, a thin one in Summer, a thick one in Winter. There are some at _Rome_, that change their Cloaths three Times a Day; in the Morning they take a Coat lin'd with Fur, about Noon they take a single one, and towards Night one that is a little thicker; but every one is not furnish'd with this Variety; therefore this Garment of ours is contriv'd so, that this one will serve for various Uses.

_Innk._ How is that?

_Con._ If the North Wind blow, or the Sun shines hot, we put on our Cowl; if the Heat is troublesome, we let it down behind. If we are to sit still, we let down our Garment about our Heels, if we are to walk, we hold or tuck it up.

_Innk._ He was no Fool, whosoever he was, that contriv'd it.

_Con._ And it is the chief Thing in living happily, for a Man to accustom himself to be content with a few Things: For if once we begin to indulge ourselves with Delicacies and Sensualities, there will be no End; and there is no one Garment could be invented, that could answer so many Purposes.

_Innk._ I allow that.

_Con._ Now let us consider the Decency of it: Pray tell me honestly, if you should put on your Wife's Cloaths, would not every one say that you acted indecently?

_Innk._ They would say I was mad.

_Con._ And what would you say, if she should put on your Cloaths?

_Innk._ I should not say much perhaps, but I should cudgel her handsomly.

_Con._ But then, how does it signify nothing what Garment any one wears?

_Innk._ O yes, in this Case it is very material.

_Con._ Nor is that strange; for the Laws of the very Pagans inflict a Punishment on either Man or Woman, that shall wear the Cloaths of a different Sex.

_Innk._ And they are in the Right for it.

_Con._ But, come on. What if an old Man of fourscore should dress himself like a Boy of fifteen; or if a young Man dress himself like an old Man, would not every one say he ought to be bang'd for it? Or if an old Woman should attire herself like a young Girl, and the contrary?

_Innk._ No doubt.

_Con._ In like Manner, if a Lay-Man should wear a Priest's Habit, and a Priest a Lay-Man's.

_Innk._ They would both act unbecomingly.

_Con._ What if a private Man should put on the Habit of a Prince, or an inferior Clergy-Man that of a Bishop? Would he act unhandsomely or no?

_Innk._ Certainly he would.

_Con._ What if a Citizen should dress himself like a Soldier, with a Feather in his Cap, and other Accoutrements of a hectoring Soldier?

_Innk._ He would be laugh'd at.

_Con._ What if any _English_ Ensign should carry a white Cross in his Colours, a _Swiss_ a red one, a _French_ Man a black one?

_Innk._ He would act impudently.

_Con._ Why then do you wonder so much at our Habit?

_Innk._ I know the Difference between a private Man and a Prince, between a Man and a Woman; but I don't understand the Difference between a Monk and no Monk.

_Con._ What Difference is there between a poor Man and a rich Man?

_Innk._ Fortune.

_Con._ And yet it would be unbecoming a poor Man to imitate a rich Man in his Dress.

_Innk._ Very true, as rich Men go now a-Days.

_Con._ What Difference is there between a Fool and a wise Man?

_Innk._ Something more than there is between a rich Man and a poor Man.

_Con._ Are not Fools dress'd up in a different Manner from wise Men?

_Innk._ I can't tell how well it becomes you, but your Habit does not differ much from theirs, if it had but Ears and Bells.

_Con._ These indeed are wanting, and we are the Fools of this World, if we really are what we pretend to be.

_Innk._ What you are I don't know; but this I know that there are a great many Fools that wear Ears and Bells, that have more Wit than those that wear Caps lin'd with Furs, Hoods, and other Ensigns of wise Men; therefore it seems a ridiculous Thing to me to make a Shew of Wisdom by the Dress rather than in Fact. I saw a certain Man, more than a Fool, with a Gown hanging down to his Heels, a Cap like our Doctors, and had the Countenance of a grave Divine; he disputed publickly with a Shew of Gravity, and he was as much made on by great Men, as any of their Fools, and was more a Fool than any of them.

_Con._ Well, what would you infer from that? That a Prince who laughs at his Jester should change Coats with him?

_Innk._ Perhaps _Decorum_ would require it to be so, if your Proposition be true, that the Mind of a Man is represented by his Habit.

_Con._ You press this upon me indeed, but I am still of the Opinion, that there is good Reason for giving Fools distinct Habits.

_Innk._ What Reason?

_Con._ That no Body might hurt them, if they say or do any Thing that's foolish.

_Innk._ But on the contrary, I won't say, that their Dress does rather provoke some People to do them Hurt; insomuch, that oftentimes of Fools they become Mad-Men. Nor do I see any Reason, why a Bull that gores a Man, or a Dog, or a Hog that kills a Child, should be punish'd, and a Fool who commits greater Crimes should be suffered to live under the Protection of his Folly. But I ask you, what is the Reason that you are distinguished from others by your Dress? For if every trifling Cause is sufficient to require a different Habit, then a Baker should wear a different Dress from a Fisherman, and a Shoemaker from a Taylor, an Apothecary from a Vintner, a Coachman from a Mariner. And you, if you are Priests, why do you wear a Habit different from other Priests? If you are Laymen, why do you differ from us?

_Con._ In antient Times, Monks were only the purer Sort of the Laity, and there was then only the same Difference between a Monk and a Layman, as between a frugal, honest Man, that maintains his Family by his Industry, and a swaggering Highwayman that lives by robbing. Afterwards the Bishop of _Rome_ bestow'd Honours upon us; and we ourselves gave some Reputation to the Habit, which now is neither simply laick, or sacerdotal; but such as it is, some Cardinals and Popes have not been ashamed to wear it.

_Innk._ But as to the _Decorum_ of it, whence comes that?

_Con._ Sometimes from the Nature of Things themselves, and sometimes from Custom and the Opinions of Men. Would not all Men think it ridiculous for a Man to wear a Bull's Hide, with the Horns on his Head, and the Tail trailing after him on the Ground?

_Innk._ That would be ridiculous enough.

_Con._ Again, if any one should wear a Garment that should hide his Face, and his Hands, and shew his privy Members?

_Innk._ That would be more ridiculous than the other.

_Con._ The very Pagan Writers have taken Notice of them that have wore Cloaths so thin, that it were indecent even for Women themselves to wear such. It is more modest to be naked, as we found you in the Stove, than to wear a transparent Garment.

_Innk._ I fancy that the whole of this Matter of Apparel depends upon Custom and the Opinion of People.

_Con._ Why so?

_Innk._ It is not many Days ago, since some Travellers lodg'd at my House, who said, that they had travelled through divers Countries lately discovered, which are wanting in the antient Maps. They said they came to an Island of a very temperate Air, where they look'd upon it as the greatest Indecency in the World, to cover their Bodies.

_Con._ It may be they liv'd like Beasts.

_Innk._ Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not above an Hour in a Day.

_Con._ What Work did they do?

_Innk._ They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish Vices, but none more severely than Adultery.