_ We don't live to study, but we
therefore
study that we may live
pleasantly.
pleasantly.
Erasmus
I am sorry for your Misfortune.
But pray,
what is this Mischance?
_Cy. _ I have lost all my Money.
_Ma. _ What in the Sea?
_Cy. _ No, on Shore, before I went abroad.
_Ma. _ Where?
_Cy. _ Upon the _English_ Coast.
_Ma. _ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your
Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of
Money.
_Cy. _ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost.
_Ma. _ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation
very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or
another. But how came it about?
_Cy. _ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the
Devil would have it.
_Ma. _ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as
they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him
that carries them.
_Cy. _ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in
Perplexity.
* * * * *
_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS. _
_Cl. _ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_.
_Ba. _ And I to see you alive _Claudius_.
_Cl. _ You are welcome Home into your own Country again.
_Ba. _ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_.
_Cl. _ Why so?
_Ba. _ Because they are all up in Arms there.
_Cl. _ But what have Scholars to do with Arms?
_Ba. _ But there they don't spare even Scholars.
_Cl. _ It is well you're got off safe.
_Ba. _ But I did not get off without Danger neither.
_Cl. _ You are come back quite another Man than you went away.
_Ba. _ How so?
_Cl. _ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man.
_Ba. _ Why, was I a Capon when I went away?
_Cl. _ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a
_French_ Man.
_Ba. _ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen.
But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_
Man.
_Cl. _ Have you learn'd to speak _French? _
_Ba. _ Indifferently well.
_Cl. _ How did you learn it?
_Ba. _ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you.
_Cl. _ From whom.
_Ba. _ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves.
_Cl. _ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce
the _French_ well?
_Ba. _ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode.
_Cl. _ Then you will never write good Verses.
_Ba. _ Why so?
_Cl. _ Because you'll make false Quantities.
_Ba. _ The Quality is enough for me.
_Cl. _ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague?
_Ba. _ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon
it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again.
_Cl. _ Is not War itself Plague enough?
_Ba. _ It is so, unless God thought otherwise.
_Cl. _ Sure Bread must be very dear there.
_Ba. _ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every
Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there.
_Cl. _ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the
_Germans_?
_Ba. _ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to
the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War.
_Cl. _ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert
ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a
little Business that calls me to another Place.
_FAMILY DISCOURSE. _
The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of
intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of
familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad,
and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking
concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure,
the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely
Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard,
&c. _
PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS.
_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door?
_Mi. _ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be
some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast
brought?
_Pe. _ Myself.
_Mi. _ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth.
_Pe. _ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal.
_Mi. _ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again.
_Pe. _ But is _Jodocus_ at Home?
_Mi. _ I can't tell, but I'll go see.
_Pe. _ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now.
_Mi. _ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy.
_Pe. _ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home?
_Jo. _ No, I am not.
_Pe. _ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak?
_Jo. _ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it
lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself.
_Pe. _ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind.
_Jo. _ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body,
but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you.
_Pe. _ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail.
_Jo. _ Why so?
_Pe. _ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a
lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows
to your Seat.
_Jo. _ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and
if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept
me from going abroad.
_Pe. _ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how
charming pleasant it is.
_Jo. _ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it.
_Pe. _ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine
Weather.
_Jo. _ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us.
_Pe. _ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then.
_Jo. _ What if we should get Hugh?
_Pe. _ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo. _
_Jo. _ Come on then, I like it mighty well.
_Pe. _ What if we should call _Alardus? _
_Jo. _ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll
make up in Talking.
_Pe. _ If you will, we'll get _Nævius_ along with us too.
_Jo. _ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the
Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place.
_Pe. _ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a
Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of
Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves.
_Jo. _ You promise nobly.
_Pe. _ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your
Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study.
_Jo. _ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love.
_Pe.
_ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live
pleasantly.
_Jo. _ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study.
_Pe. _ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to
Death.
_Pe. _ Has this Walk pleas'd you?
_Jo. _ It has been a charming pleasant one.
* * * * *
_2. GILES, LEONARD. _
_Gi. _ Where is our Leonard a going?
_Le. _ I was coming to you.
_Gi. _ That you do but seldom.
_Le. _ Why so?
_Gi. _ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months.
_Le. _ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome.
_Gi. _ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the
oftner you come the more welcome you are.
_Le. _ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House.
_Gi. _ Why truly not many Things as I would have them.
_Le. _ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet?
_Gi. _ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too.
_Le. _ How, two at once!
_Gi. _ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again.
_Le. _ That's the Way to increase your Family.
_Gi. _ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife
does my Family.
_Le. _ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet?
_Gi. _ No, not yet.
_Le. _ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a
great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her.
_Gi. _ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already.
_Le. _ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like
the best of them?
_Gi. _ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my
Daughter won't hear of marrying.
_Le. _ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for
some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for
Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While.
_Gi. _ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's
in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old.
_Le. _ But why is she averse to Marriage?
_Gi. _ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ.
_Le. _ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil
Genius that lives chastly with a Husband?
_Gi. _ I don't think so.
_Le. _ How came that Whimsey into her Head?
_Gi. _ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that
can be said to her.
_Le. _ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or
draw her away.
_Gi. _ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of
Cattel as far from my House as I can.
_Le. _ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have
her Humour?
_Gi. _ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter
her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her
Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight
against the Monks.
_Le. _ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her
Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is
too late.
_Gi. _ I'll do my utmost Endeavours.
_Le. _ What Employment do your Sons follow?
_Gi. _ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father
in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did
nothing but play while he was here.
_Le. _ Why did you send him thither?
_Gi. _ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went.
_Le. _ Don't talk so.
_Gi. _ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders.
_Le. _ I wish 'em all well.
* * * * *
3. _MOPSUS, DROMO. _
_Mo. _ How is it? What are you doing Dromo?
_Dr. _ I'm sitting still.
_Mo. _ I see that; but how do Matters go with you?
_Dr. _ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons.
_Mo. _ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing?
_Dr. _ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all.
_Mo. _ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I
interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence?
_Dr. _ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being
alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion.
_Mo. _ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some
Business?
_Dr. _ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle.
_Mo. _ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably.
_Dr. _ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I
was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company.
_Mo. _ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no
means interrupt or hinder?
_Dr. _ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil
and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you.
_Mo. _ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I
came along.
_Dr. _ Which Ear was it?
_Mo. _ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me.
_Dr. _ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said.
_Mo. _ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you?
_Dr. _ They say you are become a Huntsman.
_Mo. _ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I
have been hunting after.
_Dr. _ What Game is it?
_Mo. _ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat
you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding.
_Dr. _ Pray, who is your Bride?
_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_.
_Dr. _ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy
that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature.
_Mo. _ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not
you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you,
the more she'll please me.
* * * * *
4. _SYRUS, GETA. _
_Sy. _ I wish you much Happiness.
_Ge. _ And I wish you double what you wish me.
_Sy. _ What are you doing?
_Ge. _ I am talking.
_Sy. _ What! By yourself?
_Ge. _ As you see.
_Sy. _ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see
to it that you talk to an honest Man.
_Ge. _ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion.
_Sy. _ With whom?
_Ge. _ With _Apuleius_.
_Sy. _ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love
Intermission; you study continually.
_Ge. _ I am never tired with Study.
_Sy. _ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought
not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are
not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid
aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer
Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else
but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books.
You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a
studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon
your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give
yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission
in, nor ever give over studying.
what is this Mischance?
_Cy. _ I have lost all my Money.
_Ma. _ What in the Sea?
_Cy. _ No, on Shore, before I went abroad.
_Ma. _ Where?
_Cy. _ Upon the _English_ Coast.
_Ma. _ It is well you scap'd with your Life; it is better to lose your
Money, than that; the loss of ones good Name, is worse than the Loss of
Money.
_Cy. _ My Life and Reputation are safe; but my Money is lost.
_Ma. _ The Loss of Life never can be repair'd; the Loss of Reputation
very hardly; but the Loss of Money may easily be made up one Way or
another. But how came it about?
_Cy. _ I can't tell, unless it was my Destiny. So it pleas'd God. As the
Devil would have it.
_Ma. _ Now you see that Learning and Virtue are the safest Riches; for as
they can't be taken from a Man, so neither are they burthensome to him
that carries them.
_Cy. _ Indeed you Philosophize very well; but in the mean Time I'm in
Perplexity.
* * * * *
_CLAUDIUS, BALBUS. _
_Cl. _ I am glad to see you well come Home _Balbus_.
_Ba. _ And I to see you alive _Claudius_.
_Cl. _ You are welcome Home into your own Country again.
_Ba. _ You should rather congratulate me as a Fugitive from _France_.
_Cl. _ Why so?
_Ba. _ Because they are all up in Arms there.
_Cl. _ But what have Scholars to do with Arms?
_Ba. _ But there they don't spare even Scholars.
_Cl. _ It is well you're got off safe.
_Ba. _ But I did not get off without Danger neither.
_Cl. _ You are come back quite another Man than you went away.
_Ba. _ How so?
_Cl. _ Why, of a _Dutch_ Man, you are become a _French_ Man.
_Ba. _ Why, was I a Capon when I went away?
_Cl. _ Your Dress shows that you're turn'd from a _Dutch_ Man into a
_French_ Man.
_Ba. _ I had rather suffer this Metamorphosis, than be turn'd into a Hen.
But as a Cowl does not make a Monk, so neither does a Garment a _French_
Man.
_Cl. _ Have you learn'd to speak _French? _
_Ba. _ Indifferently well.
_Cl. _ How did you learn it?
_Ba. _ Of Teachers that were no dumb ones I assure you.
_Cl. _ From whom.
_Ba. _ Of little Women, more full of Tongue, than Turtle Doves.
_Cl. _ It is easy to learn to speak in such a School. Do you pronounce
the _French_ well?
_Ba. _ Yes, that I do, and I pronounce _Latin_ after the _French_ Mode.
_Cl. _ Then you will never write good Verses.
_Ba. _ Why so?
_Cl. _ Because you'll make false Quantities.
_Ba. _ The Quality is enough for me.
_Cl. _ Is _Paris_ clear of the Plague?
_Ba. _ Not quite, but it is not continual, sometimes it abates, and anon
it returns again; sometimes it slackens, and then rages again.
_Cl. _ Is not War itself Plague enough?
_Ba. _ It is so, unless God thought otherwise.
_Cl. _ Sure Bread must be very dear there.
_Ba. _ There is a great Scarcity of it. There is a great Want of every
Thing but wicked Soldiers. Good Men are wonderful cheap there.
_Cl. _ What is in the Mind of the _French_ to go to War with the
_Germans_?
_Ba. _ They have a Mind to imitate the Beetle, that won't give Place to
the Eagle. Every one thinks himself an _Hercules_ in War.
_Cl. _ I won't detain you any longer, at some other Time we'll divert
ourselves more largely, when we can both spare Time. At present I have a
little Business that calls me to another Place.
_FAMILY DISCOURSE. _
The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy presents us with the Sayings and Jokes of
intimate Acquaintance, and the Repartees and Behaviour of
familiar Friends one with another. 1. Of walking abroad,
and calling Companions. 2. Of seldom visiting, of asking
concerning a Wife, Daughter, Sons. 3. Concerning Leisure,
the tingling of the Ear, the Description of a homely
Maid. Invitation to a Wedding. 4. Of Studying too hard,
&c. _
PETER, MIDAS, _a Boy_, JODOCUS.
_Peter_, Soho, soho, Boy! does no Body come to the Door?
_Mi. _ I think this Fellow will beat the Door down. Sure he must needs be
some intimate Acquaintance or other. O old Friend _Peter_, what hast
brought?
_Pe. _ Myself.
_Mi. _ In Truth then you have brought that which is not much worth.
_Pe. _ But I'm sure I cost my Father a great deal.
_Mi. _ I believe so, more than you can be sold for again.
_Pe. _ But is _Jodocus_ at Home?
_Mi. _ I can't tell, but I'll go see.
_Pe. _ Go in first, and ask him if he pleases to be at Home now.
_Mi. _ Go yourself, and be your own Errand Boy.
_Pe. _ Soho! _Jodocus_, are you at Home?
_Jo. _ No, I am not.
_Pe. _ Oh! You impudent Fellow I don't I hear you speak?
_Jo. _ Nay, you are more impudent, for I took your Maid's Word for it
lately, that you were not at Home, and you won't believe me myself.
_Pe. _ You're in the Right on't, you've serv'd me in my own Kind.
_Jo. _ As I sleep not for every Body, so I am not at Home to every Body,
but for Time to come shall always be at Home to you.
_Pe. _ Methinks you live the Life of a Snail.
_Jo. _ Why so?
_Pe. _ Because you keep always at Home and never stir abroad, just like a
lame Cobler always in his Stall. You sit at Home till your Breech grows
to your Seat.
_Jo. _ At Home I have something to do, but I have no Business abroad, and
if I had, the Weather we have had for several Days past, would have kept
me from going abroad.
_Pe. _ But now it is fair, and would tempt a Body to walk out; see how
charming pleasant it is.
_Jo. _ If you have a Mind to walk I won't be against it.
_Pe. _ In Truth, I think we ought to take the Opportunity of this fine
Weather.
_Jo. _ But we ought to get a merry Companion or two, to go along with us.
_Pe. _ So we will; but tell me who you'd have then.
_Jo. _ What if we should get Hugh?
_Pe. _ There is no great Difference between _Hugo_ and _Nugo. _
_Jo. _ Come on then, I like it mighty well.
_Pe. _ What if we should call _Alardus? _
_Jo. _ He's no dumb Man I'll assure you, what he wants in Hearing he'll
make up in Talking.
_Pe. _ If you will, we'll get _Nævius_ along with us too.
_Jo. _ If we have but him, we shall never want merry Stories. I like the
Company mainly, the next Thing is to pitch upon a pleasant Place.
_Pe. _ I'll show you a Place where you shall neither want the Shade of a
Grove, nor the pleasant Verdure of Meadows, nor the purling Streams of
Fountains, you'll say it is a Place worthy of the Muses themselves.
_Jo. _ You promise nobly.
_Pe. _ You are too intent upon your Books; you sit too close to your
Books; you make yourself lean with immoderate Study.
_Jo. _ I had rather grow lean with Study than with Love.
_Pe.
_ We don't live to study, but we therefore study that we may live
pleasantly.
_Jo. _ Indeed I could live and dye in my Study.
_Pe. _ I approve well enough of studying hard, but not to study myself to
Death.
_Pe. _ Has this Walk pleas'd you?
_Jo. _ It has been a charming pleasant one.
* * * * *
_2. GILES, LEONARD. _
_Gi. _ Where is our Leonard a going?
_Le. _ I was coming to you.
_Gi. _ That you do but seldom.
_Le. _ Why so?
_Gi. _ Because you han't been to see me this twelve Months.
_Le. _ I had rather err on that Hand to be wanted, than to be tiresome.
_Gi. _ I am never tired with the Company of a good Friend: Nay, the
oftner you come the more welcome you are.
_Le. _ But by the Way, how goes Matters at your House.
_Gi. _ Why truly not many Things as I would have them.
_Le. _ I don't wonder at that, but is your Wife brought to Bed yet?
_Gi. _ Ay, a great While ago, and had two at a Birth too.
_Le. _ How, two at once!
_Gi. _ 'Tis as I tell you, and more than that she's with Child again.
_Le. _ That's the Way to increase your Family.
_Gi. _ Ay, but I wish Fortune would increase my Money as much as my Wife
does my Family.
_Le. _ Have you disposed of your Daughter yet?
_Gi. _ No, not yet.
_Le. _ I would have you consider if it be not hazardous to keep such a
great Maid as she at Home, you should look out for a Husband for her.
_Gi. _ There's no Need of that, for she has Sweet-hearts enough already.
_Le. _ But why then don't you single out one for her, him that you like
the best of them?
_Gi. _ They are all so good that I can't tell which to chuse: But my
Daughter won't hear of marrying.
_Le. _ How say you! If I am not mistaken, she has been marriageable for
some Time. She has been fit for a Husband a great While, ripe for
Wedlock, ready for a Husband this great While.
_Gi. _ Why not, she is above seventeen, she's above two and twenty, she's
in her nineteenth Year, she's above eighteen Years old.
_Le. _ But why is she averse to Marriage?
_Gi. _ She says she has a Mind to be married to Christ.
_Le. _ In Truth he has a great many Brides. But is she married to an evil
Genius that lives chastly with a Husband?
_Gi. _ I don't think so.
_Le. _ How came that Whimsey into her Head?
_Gi. _ I can't tell, but there's no persuading her out of it by all that
can be said to her.
_Le. _ You should take Care that there be no Tricksters that inveagle or
draw her away.
_Gi. _ I know these Kidnappers well enough, and I drive this Kind of
Cattel as far from my House as I can.
_Le. _ But what do you intend to do then? Do you intend to let her have
her Humour?
_Gi. _ No, I'll prevent it if possible; I'll try every Method to alter
her Mind; but if she persists in it, I'll not force her against her
Will, lest I should be found to fight against God, or rather to fight
against the Monks.
_Le. _ Indeed you speak very religiously; but take Care to try her
Constancy throughly, lest she should afterwards repent it, when it is
too late.
_Gi. _ I'll do my utmost Endeavours.
_Le. _ What Employment do your Sons follow?
_Gi. _ The eldest has been married this good While, and will be a Father
in a little Time; I have sent the youngest away to _Paris_, for he did
nothing but play while he was here.
_Le. _ Why did you send him thither?
_Gi. _ That he might come back a greater Fool than he went.
_Le. _ Don't talk so.
_Gi. _ The middlemost has lately enter'd into holy Orders.
_Le. _ I wish 'em all well.
* * * * *
3. _MOPSUS, DROMO. _
_Mo. _ How is it? What are you doing Dromo?
_Dr. _ I'm sitting still.
_Mo. _ I see that; but how do Matters go with you?
_Dr. _ As they use to do with unfortunate Persons.
_Mo. _ God forbid that that should be your Case. But what are you doing?
_Dr. _ I am idling, as you see; doing just nothing at all.
_Mo. _ It is better to be idle than doing of nothing; it may be I
interrupt you, being employ'd in some Matters of Consequence?
_Dr. _ No, really, entirely at Leisure; I just began to be tir'd of being
alone, and was wishing for a merry Companion.
_Mo. _ It may be I hinder, interrupt, disturb you, being about some
Business?
_Dr. _ No, you divert me, being tired with being idle.
_Mo. _ Pray pardon me if I have interrupted you unseasonably.
_Dr. _ Nay, you came very seasonably; you are come in the Nick of Time; I
was just now wishing for you; I am extreme glad of your Company.
_Mo. _ It may be you are about some serious Business, that I would by no
means interrupt or hinder?
_Dr. _ Nay, rather it is according to the old Proverb, _Talk of the Devil
and he'll appear_; for we were just now speaking of you.
_Mo. _ In short, I believe you were, for my Ear tingled mightily as I
came along.
_Dr. _ Which Ear was it?
_Mo. _ My left, from which I guess there was no Good said of me.
_Dr. _ Nay, I'll assure you there was nothing but Good said.
_Mo. _ Then the old Proverb is not true. But what good News have you?
_Dr. _ They say you are become a Huntsman.
_Mo. _ Nay, more than that, I have gotten the Game now in my Nets that I
have been hunting after.
_Dr. _ What Game is it?
_Mo. _ A pretty Girl, that I am to marry in a Day or two; and I intreat
you to honour me with your good Company at my Wedding.
_Dr. _ Pray, who is your Bride?
_Mo. Alice_, the Daughter of _Chremes_.
_Dr. _ You are a rare Fellow to chuse a Beauty for one! Can you fancy
that Black-a-top, Snub-nos'd, Sparrow-mouth'd, Paunch-belly'd Creature.
_Mo. _ Prithee hold thy Tongue, I marry her to please myself, and not
you. Pray, is it not enough that I like her? The less she pleases you,
the more she'll please me.
* * * * *
4. _SYRUS, GETA. _
_Sy. _ I wish you much Happiness.
_Ge. _ And I wish you double what you wish me.
_Sy. _ What are you doing?
_Ge. _ I am talking.
_Sy. _ What! By yourself?
_Ge. _ As you see.
_Sy. _ It may be you are talking to yourself, and then you ought to see
to it that you talk to an honest Man.
_Ge. _ Nay, I am conversing with a very facetious Companion.
_Sy. _ With whom?
_Ge. _ With _Apuleius_.
_Sy. _ That I think you are always doing, but the Muses love
Intermission; you study continually.
_Ge. _ I am never tired with Study.
_Sy. _ It may be so, but yet you ought to set Bounds; though Study ought
not to be omitted, yet it ought sometimes to be intermitted; Studies are
not to be quite thrown aside, yet they ought for a While to be laid
aside; there is nothing pleasant that wants Variety; the seldomer
Pleasures are made use of the pleasanter they are. You do nothing else
but study. You are always studying. You are continually at your Books.
You read incessantly. You study Night and Day. You never are but a
studying. You are continually at your Study. You are always intent upon
your Books. You know no End of, nor set no Bound to Study. You give
yourself no Rest from your Studies. You allow yourself no Intermission
in, nor ever give over studying.
