No More Learning

_ Yes; and _Paul_ too, I believe, when by Reason of Poverty he sat
up a-Nights to make Tents.

_Ti. _ How much do we owe to the Goodness of God! But yet, I had rather
suffer Hunger with _Peter_ and _Paul_, upon Condition, that what I
wanted for my Body, might be made up by the Satisfaction of my Mind.

_Eu. _ Let us learn of St. _Paul_, both how to abound, and how to suffer
Want. When we want, let us praise God, that he has afforded us Matter to
exercise our Frugality and Patience upon: When we abound, let us be
thankful for his Munificence, who by his Liberality, invites and
provokes us to love him; and using those Things the divine Bounty has
plentifully bestowed upon us, with Moderation and Temperance; let us be
mindful of the Poor, whom God has been pleas'd to suffer to want what he
has made abound to us, that neither Side may want an Occasion of
exercising Virtue: For he bestows upon us sufficient for the Relief of
our Brother's Necessity, that we may obtain his Mercy, and that the Poor
on the other Hand, being refresh'd by our Liberality, may give him
Thanks for putting it into our Hearts, and recommend us to him in their
Prayers; and, very well remember'd! Come hither, Boy; bid my Wife send
_Gudula_ some of the roast Meat that's left, 'tis a very good poor Woman
in the Neighbourhood big with Child, her Husband is lately dead, a
profuse, lazy Fellow, that has left nothing but a Stock of Children.

_Ti. _ Christ has commanded _to give to every one that asks_; but if I
should do so, I should go a begging myself in a Month's Time.

_Eu. _ I suppose Christ means only such as ask for Necessaries: For to
them who ask, nay, who importune, or rather extort great Sums from
People to furnish voluptuous Entertainments, or, which is worse, to feed
Luxury and Lust, it is Charity to deny; nay, it is a Kind of Rapine to
bestow that which we owe to the present Necessity of our Neighbours,
upon those that will abuse it; upon this Consideration it is, that it
seems to me, that they can scarcely be excus'd from being guilty of a
mortal Sin, who at a prodigious Expence, either build or beautify
Monasteries or Churches, when in the mean Time so many living Temples of
Christ are ready to starve for Want of Food and Clothing, and are sadly
afflicted with the Want of other Necessaries. When I was in _England_, I
saw St. _Thomas_'s, Tomb all over bedeck'd with a vast Number of Jewels
of an immense Price, besides other rich Furniture, even to Admiration; I
had rather that these Superfluities should be apply'd to charitable
Uses, than to be reserv'd for Princes, that shall one Time or other make
a Booty of them. The holy Man, I am confident, would have been better
pleas'd, to have his Tomb adorn'd with Leaves and Flowers. When I was in
_Lombardy_, I saw a Cloyster of the _Carthusians_, not far from _Pavia_;
the Chapel is built from Top to Bottom, within and without, of white
Marble, and almost all that is in it, as Altars, Pillars, and Tombs, are
all Marble. To what Purpose was it to be at such a vast Expence upon a
Marble Temple, for a few solitary Monks to sing in? And 'tis more
Burthen to them than Use too, for they are perpetually troubled with
Strangers, that come thither, only out of mere Curiosity, to see the
Marble Temple. And that, which is yet more ridiculous, I was told there,
that there is an Endowment of three thousand Ducats a Year for keeping
the Monastery in Repair. And there are some that think that it is
Sacrilege, to convert a Penny of that Money to any other pious Uses,
contrary to the Intention of the Testator; they had rather pull down,
that they may rebuild, than not go on with building. I thought meet to
mention these, being something more remarkable than ordinary; tho' we
have a World of Instances of this Kind up and down in our Churches.
This, in my Opinion, is rather Ambition than Charity. Rich Men
now-a-Days will have their Monuments in Churches, whereas in Times past
they could hardly get Room for the Saints there: They must have their
Images there, and their Pictures, forsooth, with their Names at length,
their Titles, and the Inscription of their Donation; and this takes up a
considerable Part of the Church; and I believe in Time they'll be for
having their Corpse laid even in the very Altars themselves. But
perhaps, some will say, would you have their Munificence be discourag'd?
I say no, by no Means, provided what they offer to the Temple of God be
worthy of it. But if I were a Priest or a Bishop, I would put it into
the Heads of those thick-scull'd Courtiers or Merchants, that if they
would atone for their Sins to Almighty God, they should privately bestow
their Liberality upon the Relief of the Poor. But they reckon all as
lost, that goes out so by Piece-meal, and is privily distributed toward
the Succour of the Needy, that the next Age shall have no Memorial of
the Bounty. But I think no Money can be better bestow'd, than that which
Christ himself would have put to his Account, and makes himself Debtor
for.

_Ti. _ Don't you take that Bounty to be well plac'd that is bestow'd upon
Monasteries?

_Eu. _ Yes, and I would be a Benefactor myself, if I had an Estate that
would allow it; but it should be such a Provision for Necessaries, as
should not reach to Luxury. And I would give something too, wheresoever
I found a religious Man that wanted it.

_Ti. _ Many are of Opinion, that what is given to common Beggars, is not
well bestowed.

_Eu. _ I would do something that Way too; but with Discretion: But in my
Opinion, it were better if every City were to maintain their own Poor;
and Vagabonds and sturdy Beggars were not suffer'd to strole about, who
want Work more than Money.

_Ti. _ To whom then would you in an especial Manner give? How much? And
to what Purposes?

_Eu. _ It is a hard Matter for me to answer to all these Points exactly:
First of all, there should be an Inclination to be helpful to all, and
after that, the Proportion must be according to my Ability, as
Opportunity should offer; and especially to those whom I know to be poor
and honest; and when my own Purse fail'd me, I would exhort others to
Charity.

_Ti. _ But will you give us Leave now to discourse freely in your
Dominions?

_Eu. _ As freely as if you were at Home at your own Houses.

_Ti. _ You don't love vast Expences upon Churches, you say, and this
House might have been built for less than it was.

_Eu. _ Indeed, I think this House of mine to be within the Compass of
cleanly and convenient, far from Luxury, or I am mistaken. Some that
live by begging, have built with more State; and yet, these Gardens of
Mine, such as they are, pay a Tribute to the Poor; and I daily lessen my
Expence, and am the more frugal in Expence upon myself and Family, that
I may contribute the more plentifully to them.

_Ti. _ If all Men were of your Mind, it would be better than it is with a
good many People who deserve better, that are now in extreme Want; and
on the other Hand, many of those pamper'd Carcases would be brought
down, who deserve to be taught Sobriety and Modesty by Penury.

_Eu. _ It may be so: but shall I mend your mean Entertainment now, with
the best Bit at last?

_Ti. _ We have had more than enough of Delicacies already.

_Eu. _ That which I am now about to give you, let your Bellies be never
so full, won't over-charge your Stomachs.

_Ti. _ What is it?

_Eu. _ The Book of the four Evangelists, that I may treat you with the
best at last. Read, Boy, from the Place where you left off last.

_Boy. No Man can serve two Masters; for either he will hate the one and
love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other:
You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore, I say unto you, take no
thought for your Life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink: Nor
yet for your Body, what you shall put on. Is not the Life more than
Meat, and the Body than Raiment? _

_Eu. _ Give me the Book. In this Place _Jesus Christ_ seems to me, to
have said the same Thing twice: For instead of what he had said in the
first Place, _i. e. _ _he will hate_; he says immediately, _he will
despise_. And for what he had said before, _he will love_, he by and by
turns it, _he will hold to_. The Sense is the same, tho' the Persons are
chang'd.

_Ti. _ I do not very well apprehend what you mean.

_Eu. _ Let me, if you please, demonstrate it mathematically. In the first
Part, put _A_ for the one, and _B_ for the other. In the latter Part,
put _B_ for one, and _A_ for the other, inverting the Order; for either
_A_ will hate, and _B_ will love, or _B_ will hold to, and _A_ will
despise. Is it not plain now, that _A_ is twice hated, and _B_ twice
beloved?

_Ti. _ 'Tis very clear.

_Eu. _ This Conjunction, _or_, especially repeated, has the Emphasis of a
contrary, or at least, a different Meaning. Would it not be otherwise
absurd to say, _Either_ Peter _shall overcome me, and I'll yield; or
I'll yield, and_ Peter _shall overcome me? _

_Ti. _ A pretty Sophism, as I'm an honest Man.

_Eu. _ I shall think it so when you have made it out, not before.

_The. _ I have something runs in my Mind, and I'm with Child to have it
out: I can't tell what to make on't, but let it be what it will, you
shall have it if you please; if it be a Dream, you shall be the
Interpreters, or midwife it into the World.

_Eu. _ Although it is looked upon to be unlucky to talk of Dreams at
Table, and it is immodest to bring forth before so many Men; but this
Dream, or this Conception of thy Mind, be it what it will, let us have
it.

_The. _ In my Judgment it is rather the Thing than the Person that is
chang'd in this Text. And the Words _one_ and _one_ do not refer to _A_
and _B_; but either Part of them, to which of the other you please; so
that chuse which you will, it must be opposed to that, which is
signified by the other; as if you should say, you _shall either exclude_
A _and admit_ B, _or you shall admit_ A _and exclude_ B. Here's the
Thing chang'd, and the Person the same: And it is so spoken of _A_, that
it is the same Case, if you should say the same Thing of _B_; as thus,
either you shall exclude _B_ or admit _A_, or admit _B_ or exclude _A_.

_Eu. _ In Truth, you have very artificially solv'd this Problem: No
Mathematician could have demonstrated it better upon a Slate.

_Soph. _ That which is the greatest Difficulty to me is this; that we are
forbidden to take Thought for to Morrow; when yet, _Paul_ himself
wrought with his own Hands for Bread, and sharply rebukes lazy People,
and those that live upon other Men's Labour, exhorting them to take
Pains, and get their Living by their Fingers Ends, that they may have
wherewith to relieve others in their Necessities. Are not they holy and
warrantable Labours, by which a poor Husband provides for his dear Wife
and Children?

_Ti. _ This is a Question, which, in my Opinion, may be resolv'd several
Ways. First of all, This Text had a particular Respect to those Times.
The Apostles being dispers'd far and wide for the Preaching of the
Gospel, all sollicitous Care for a Maintenance was to be thrown aside,
it being to be supply'd otherwise, having not Leisure to get their
Living by their Labour; and especially, they having no Way of getting
it, but by Fishing. But now the World is come to another Pass, and we
all love to live at Ease, and shun Painstaking. Another Way of
expounding it may be this; Christ had not forbid Industry, but Anxiety
of Thought, and this Anxiety of Thought is to be understood according to
the Temper of Men in common, who are anxious for nothing more than
getting a Livelihood; that setting all other Things aside, this is the
only Thing they mind. And our Saviour does in a Manner intimate the same
himself, when he says, that one Man cannot serve two Masters. For he
that wholly gives himself up to any Thing, is a Servant to it. Now he
would have the Propagation of the Gospel be our chief, but yet, not our
only Care. For he says, _Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and these
Things shall be added unto you_. He does not say, seek only; but seek
first. And besides, I take the Word to Morrow, to be hyperbolical, and
in that, signifies a Time to come, a great While hence, it being the
Custom of the Misers of this World, to be anxiously scraping together,
and laying up for Posterity.

_Eu. _ We allow of your Interpretation; but what does he mean, when he
says, _Be not sollicitous for your Life, what you shall eat_? The Body
is cloth'd, but the Soul does not eat.

_Ti. _ By _Anima_, is meant Life, which can't subsist without Meat (or is
in Danger, if you take away its Food): But it is not so, if you take
away the Garment, which is more for Modesty than Necessity. If a Person
is forc'd to go naked, he does not die presently; but Want of Food is
certain Death.

_Eu. _ I do not well understand how this Sentence agrees with that which
follows; _Is not the Life more than Meat, and the Body than Raiment_?
For if Life be so precious, we ought to take the more Care of it.

_Ti. _ This Argument does rather increase our Sollicitousness than lessen
it.

_Eu. _ But this is none of our Saviour's Meaning; who, by this Argument,
creates in us a stronger Confidence in the Father: For if a bountiful
Father hath given us _gratis_ that which is the more valuable, he will
also bestow upon us what is less valuable: He that has given us Life,
will not deny us Food: And he that has given us Bodies, will by some
Means or other give us Cloaths too: Therefore, relying upon his Bounty,
we have no Reason to disquiet ourselves with Anxiety of Thought, for
Things of smaller Moment. What remains then, but using this World, as
though we used it not, we transfer our whole Study and Application to
the Love of heavenly Things, and rejecting the World and the Devil
universally, with all his crafty Delusions, we chearfully serve God
alone, who will never forsake his Children? But all this While, here's
no Body touches the Fruits. Certainly you may eat this with Joy, for
this is the Product of my own Farm, and did not cost much Care to
provide it.

_Ti. _ We have very plentifully satisfied our Bodies.

_Eu. _ I should be glad if you had satisfied your Minds too.

_Ti. _ Our Minds have been satisfy'd more plentifully than our Bodies.

_Eu. _ Boy, take away, and bring some Water; now, my Friends, let us
wash, that if we have in eating contracted any Guilt, being cleansed, we
may conclude with a Hymn: If you please, I'll conclude with what I begun
out of St. _Chrysostom_.

_Ti. _ We entreat you that you would do it.

_Eu. Glory to thee, O Lord; Glory to thee, O holy One; Glory to thee, O
King; as thou hast given us Meat for our Bodies, so replenish our Souls
with Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be found
acceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shalt
render to every one according to his Works_.

Boy. _Amen_.

_Ti. _ In Truth, it is a pious and elegant Hymn.

_Eu. _ Of St. _Chrysostom_'s Translation too.

_Ti. _ Where is it to be found?

_Eu. _ In his 56th Homily on St. _Matthew_.

_Ti. _ I'll be sure to read it to Day: But I have a Mind to be informed
of one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these three
Denominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_.

_Eu. _ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these three
Respects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holy
Blood from the Tyranny of the Devil, and hath taken us to himself.
Secondly, We stile him Holy, because he being the Sanctifier of all Men,
not being content alone to have freely pardoned us all our Sins _gratis_
by his holy Spirit, hath bestow'd upon us his Righteousness, that we
might follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for the
Reward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of God
the Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, that
we have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be a
Tyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of the
Filth and Uncleanness of our Sins; and instead of the Torments of Hell,
the Joys of Life everlasting.

_Ti. _ Indeed it is a very pious Sentence.

_Eu. _ This is your first Visit, Gentlemen, and I must not dismiss you
without Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been.
Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will draw
Lots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that is
to say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, a
hundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are four
little Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will be
more agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses.

_Ti. _ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but do
you distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come the
welcomer where they fall.

_Eu. _ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, it
teaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom.
This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to the
Doctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be given
and abound.

_Ti. _ I will be sure to make it my Study, to stand in less Need of it.

_Eu. Sophronius_, this Dial will suit you very well, whom I know to be
so good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of that
precious Thing be lost. It came out of the furthest Part of _Dalmatia_,
and that's all the Commendation I shall give it.

_Sophr. _ You indeed admonish a Sluggard to be diligent.

_Eu. _ You have in this little Book the Gospel written on Vellum; it
deserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were a
fitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may be
more and more like to your Name.

_The. _ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present ill
bestow'd.

_Eu. _ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions,
_Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in your
Mouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: And
now for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in your
Hand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into the
Bargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel.

_Eu. _ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiable
Reader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books.

_Ch.
_ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and in
the next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance.

_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and to
excellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, by
which the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, and
that by such an Artist.

_The. _ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as you
have with Instruments.

_Eu. _ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books of
Morals, and very fairly written by one very well skill'd in the _Greek_;
I find in them so much Purity of Thought, that it is my Amazement, how
such evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This I
will present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_
Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as a
thrifty Dispenser of his Time.

_Neph. _ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but your
Compliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, as
Panegyricks.

_Eu. _ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these small
Matters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'd
by your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment may
have upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiser
and better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, and
much less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hour
in seeing the rest of the Curiosities of my little Palace.

_Ti. _ That's the very Thing we were about to desire of you.

_Eu. _ There is no Need of entreating a Man of his Word. I believe you
have seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; and
which Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Green
before you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by putting
down the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun is
incommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thin
ones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in my
Garden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and their
Flowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviour
celebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ a
keeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'd
in the Gospel, in the Height of his Luxury, by and by sinking into Hell.
And here is _Lazarus_, driven away from his Doors, by and by to be
receiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom.

_Ti. _ We don't very well know this Story.

_Eu. _ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be most
luxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth her
Hand for the other. Here is the Battel of the _Centaurs_; and here
_Alexander_ the Great thrusts his Launce through the Body of _Clytus_.
These Examples preach Sobriety to us at Table, and deter a Man from
Gluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'd
with very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones.

_Ti. _ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is so
shining.

_Eu. _ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing at
the Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Piece
of Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully for
the Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospect
of the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions of
it describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have the
Pictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Painting
them all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, and
stretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice,
saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in a
Glory, embracing him.

_Ti. _ As God shall bless me, a Piece of Work worthy of _Apelles_.

_Eu. _ Adjoining to the Library, there is a little Study, but a very neat
one; and 'tis but removing a Picture, and there is a Chimney behind it,
if the Cold be troublesome. In Summer-Time it passes for solid Wall.

_Ti. _ Every Thing here looks like Jewels; and here's a wonderful pretty
Scent.

_Eu. _ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and both
these may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery that
looks into the Garden, and there is a Chapel adjoining to it.

_Ti. _ The Place itself deserves a Deity.

_Eu. _ Let us go now to those three Walks above the other that you have
seen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have a
Prospect into both Gardens; but only by Windows with Shutters;
especially, in the Walls that have no Prospect into the inner Garden,
and that's for the Safety of the House. Here upon the Left-Hand, because
there is more Light, and fewer Windows, is painted the whole Life of
_Jesus_, out of the History of the four Evangelists, as far as to the
Mission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles out
of the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator may
see near what Lake, or upon what Mountain such or such a Thing was done.
There are also Titles to every Story, with an Abstract of the Contents,
as that of our Saviour, _I will, Be thou clean_. Over against it you
have the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out of
the Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christ
and Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursing
with myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, in
giving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears me
Company, or sometimes a Friend that takes Delight in pious Things.

_Ti. _ Who could be tired with this House?

_Eu. _ No Body that has learn'd to live by himself. Upon the upper Border
(as though not fit to be among the rest) are all the Popes Heads with
their Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Cæsars_, for the
better taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is a
Lodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of my
Orchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow,
is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and I
make Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, with
any infectious Disease.

_Ti. _ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to be
avoided.

_Eu. _ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this the
less, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that a
Basilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would not
stick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, is
Rashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wife
shall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and make
my House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a little
Business abroad: I must ride out to some of the Neighbouring Towns.

_Ti. _ What, a Money Business?

_Eu. _ I would not leave such Friends for the Sake of receiving a little
Money.

_Ti. _ Perhaps you have appointed a hunting Match.

_Eu. _ It is a Kind of Hunting indeed, but it is something else I hunt,
than either Boars or Stags.

_Ti. _ What is it then?

_Eu. _ I'll tell you: I have a Friend in one Town lies dangerously ill;
the Physician fears his Life, but I am afraid of his Soul: For I don't
think he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'll
go and give him some pious Admonitions that he may be the better for,
whether he lives or dies. In another Town there are two Men bitterly at
odds, they are no ill Men neither, but Men of a very obstinate Temper.
If the Matter should rise to a greater Height, I am afraid it would be
of ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in the
World, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my hunting
Match, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink their
Healths.

_Ti. _ A very pious Hunting, indeed; we pray heartily, that not _Delia_
but _Christ_ would give you good Success.

_Eu. _ I had rather obtain this Prey, than have two thousand Ducats left
me for a Legacy.

_Ti. _ Will you come back quickly?

_Eu. _ Not till I have try'd every Thing; therefore, I can't set a Time.
In the mean Time, be as free with any Thing of mine, as though it were
your own, and enjoy yourselves.

_Ti. _ God be with you, forward and backward.




_The APOTHEOSIS of CAPNIO. _


The ARGUMENT.

_Canonizing, or entring the incomparable Man_, John
Reuclin, _into the Number of the Saints, teaches how much
Honour is due to famous Men, who have by their Industry
improv'd the liberal Sciences_.


None that has liv'd Well, dies Ill.

POMPILIUS, BRASSICANUS.

_Po. _ Where have you been, with your Spatter-Lashes?

_Br. _ At _Tubinga_.

_Po. _ Is there no News there?

_Br. _ I can't but admire, that the World should run so strangely a
gadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we should
have nothing to do with any Thing that is new.

_Po. _ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be a
Man,) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always to
feed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine.

_Br. _ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love old
Things so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh than
stale.

_Po. _ No more of the Camel; but prithee tell me, what News have you?

_Br. _ Nay, I have News in my Budget too; but News which he says is
naught.

_Po. _ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Things
be good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence,
that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and that
which is now bad, will in Time come to be good.

_Br. _ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; and
therefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool in
Time past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he is
grown old.

Po. But prithee, let's have the News, be it what it will.

_Br. _ The famous triple-tongu'd Phoenix of Learning, _John Reuclin_, is
departed this Life.

_Po. _ For certain?

_Br. _ Nay, it is too certain.

_Po. _ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortal
Memory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of this
miserable World, into the Society of the Blessed?

_Br. _ How do you know that to be the Case?

_Po. _ It is plain, for he can't die otherwise, who has liv'd as he did.

_Br. _ You would say so, indeed, if you knew what I know.

_Po. _ What's that, I pray?

_Br. _ No, no, I must not tell you.

_Po. _ Why so?

_Br. _ Because he that entrusted me with the Secret, made me promise
Silence.

_Po. _ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon my
honest Word, I'll keep Counsel.

_Br. _ That honest Word has often deceived me; but however, I'll venture;
especially, it being a Matter of that Kind, that it is fit all honest
Men should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Man
accounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own.

_Po. _ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of true
Piety.

_Br. _ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know the
Man.

_Po. _ What if I shall guess at him?

_Br. _ Do, if you will.

_Po. _ Hold your Ear then.

_Br. _ What needs that, when here's no Body within Hearing?

_Po. _ But however, for Fashion Sake.

_Br. _ 'Tis the very same.

_Po. _ He is a Man of undoubted Credit. If he says a Thing, it is to me,
as true as the Gospel.

_Br. _ Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked Truth of the Story. My
Friend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there was
some Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, be
sick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he might
ease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend was
sick, I was sick too, for I lov'd him as my own Father.

_Po. _ Phoo! There's no Body but lov'd him, except he were a very bad Man
indeed.

_Br. _ My Franciscan says to me, _Brassicanus_, leave off grieving, our
_Reuclin_ is well. What, said I, Is he well all on a sudden then? For
but two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, says
he, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don't
weep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before you
have heard the Matter out. I have not indeed seen the Man this six Days,
but I pray for him constantly every Day that goes over my Head. This
Morning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into a
gentle pleasant Slumber.

_Po. _ My Mind presages some joyful Thing.

_Br. _ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standing
by a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; the
emerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charming
Prospect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like little
Stars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all the
Fields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was divided
from the rest, seem'd neither to grow, nor to be green; but look'd dead,
blasted, and withered.