No More Learning

=Lu. = None more famous with vs.

=So. = Haue you euer seene his persone?

=Lu. = Neuer, but in good fayth I woulde I might, bycause I haue hearde
so much euill of hym.

=So. = Perhaps of them that be euill themselues.

=Lu. = Nay truely, euen of reuerend personages.

=So. = What be they.

=Lucres. = I may not tell you that.

=So. = And why so I pray.

=Lu. = Bicause if you should blab it out, and it come vnto their eares,
I should loose no small part of my lyuing.

=So. = Feare thou not, thou shalt speake it to a stone.

=Lu. = Harken hither in thine eare thẽ.

=So. = A fonde wench, what needeth it to lay mine eare to thine, seing
we be alone? except it were that God shoulde not heare it. Oh lyuing
God, I see thou art a religious whore, thou doest thy charity vpon
Mendicants.

[Sidenote: _Mendicant Friers. _]

=Lu. = Well, I get more by these Mendicants & simple beggers, than by
you riche folke.

=So. = So I thinke, they spoyle and prowle from honest matrones to cast
at whores tayles.

=Lu. = But tell on your tale concerning the booke.

=So. = I will so doe, and better it is. Therein Paule taught me a
lessõ, who being indued with the spirite of truth could not lie, that
neyther whores, nor whore haunters shall inherite the kingdome of
heauen. When I had reade this, I beganne to consider with my selfe in
this wise. It is a small thinge, which I looke to be heire of by my
father, and yet neuerthelesse rather I had to shake hands with all
wanton women, then to be set beside that inheritance, how muche more
then doth it sit me on, to beware y^e my father in heaue doth not
disinherite me of that far more excellent inheritance, for against
mine earthly father, which goeth about to disinherite me, or to cast
me off, the ciuill lawes doe offer a remedie, but if God list to cast
of, or disinherite, there is no helpe at all. Wherevpon, I foorthwith
vtterlie forefended my selfe, the vse and familiaritie of all euill
disposed women.

=Lu. = That is if you be able to lyue chaste.

=So. = It is a good parte of the vertue of continencie, hartilie to
couit and desire the same, if it will not so bee, well, the vttermost
remedie is to take a Wife. When I was come to Rome, I powred out the
hole sincke of my conscience into the bosome of a certayne Frier
penitentiarie, who with many words, right wiselye exhorted mee to
puritie, and cleannesse of minde and bodye, and vnto the deuout
reading of holie scripture, with oft prayer & sobernesse of life, for
my penaunce he enioyned me naught else, but that I shoulde kneele on
my knees before the high alter, and say y^e Psalme _Miserere mei
deus_. And if I had mony to giue in almoys vnto some poore bodie a
_Carolyne_. And wheras I meruayled much, that for so many times, as I
hadde confessed my selfe to haue played the brothell, he layed vppon
me so small a penaunce, hee aunswered me right pleasauntlye thus.
Sonne (quoth he) if thou truely repent, if thou change thy
conuersation, I passe not on thy penance, but if thou proceed stil
therin, thy very lust it self shal at the length bring thee to paine
and penaunce ynough I warrant thee, though the Priest appointeth thee
none, for example loke vpon my selfe, whome thou seest now, bleare
eyed, palsey shaken, and crooked, and in time paste I was euen such a
one as thou declarest thy selfe to be. Thus loe haue I learned to
leaue it.

=Lu. = Why then for ought that I can see I haue loste my _Sophronius_.

=So. = Nay rather thou hast him safe, for before he was in deede loste,
as one which neyther loued thee nor hymselfe. He now loueth thee with
a true loue, and thirsteth thy saluation.

=Lu. = What aduise you me then to doe, friende _Sophronius_?

=So. = As soone as possible you may to withdrawe your selfe from this
kinde of lyfe, you are yet but a girle (to speake off) and the spot of
your misdemeanour maye be washed away. Either take an husband (so
doing we wyll contribute some thing to preferre you) eyther else get
you into some godly Colledge or Monestery which receyueth those that
haue done amisse, vpon promise of amendment, or at the leastwyse
departing from this place, betake your selfe into the seruice of some
vertuous and well disposed Matrone. And to which of these you liste to
enclyne your minde, I offer you my friendly helpe and furtheraunce.

=Lu. = Now I besech you with all my hart _Sophronie_ looke about &
prouide for me, I will follow your counsayle.

=So. = But in the meane while conuey your selfe from out of this place.

=Lu. = Alack so sone,

=So. = Why not, rather this day than to morrow? namely since lingering
it is damage, and delay is daungerous.

=Lu. = Whether should I then repaire, where should I stay my selfe?

=So. = You shall packe vp all your apparell and Iewels, & deliuer it
vnto me in the euening, my seruaunt shall closelye carrie it, vnto a
faithfull honest Matrone. And within a while after, I will leade you
out, as it were to walke with me and you shal secretly abide in that
Matrons house, at my charge, vntill I prouide for you: And that time
shall not bee long.

=Lu. = Be it so my _Sophronius_, I betake my selfe wholy vnto you.

=So. = For so doing here-after, you shall haue ioy.


_FINIS. _

¶ One dialogue, or Colloquye of Erasmus (entituled
Diuersoria) Translated oute of Latten
into Englyshe: And Imprinted, to
the ende that the Judgem[~e]t
of the Learned maye be hadde
before the Translator pro-
cede in the reste.
E. H.

[Illustration]

¶ Imprinted at London in Fleetstreete, at the
signe of the Faucon by William Griffyth,
and are to be solde at his shop
in S. Dunstons Churchyard
in the west.
1566

* * * * *

¶ The Translator to the indifferent reader.

If I were throughlye perswaded (g[~e]tle reader) y^t mine attempt of the
learned were in all points allowed and the order in my translation
correspondent thereunto, I woulde at this present proceede in mine
enterprise, with entent by gods helpe to finishe the translation of the
whole boke: But because I am vnlearned & therfore must not be mine owne
iudge therein, I geue the here a tast of my store for proofe of mine
abilitie: desiring the at the least wise not to be offended at the same so
boldly attemted and simplye perfourmed. For sithe mine entent is good, & my
good wil not small I dare at this present yelde it to thy curtesye. Fare
wel.

¶ Thine in will (though not in power) E. H.

* * * * *

_Diuersoria. _

¶ The speakers.

_Bertulphe. _ _William. _

Why haue men taken suche pleasure and felicity (I pray you) in tariynge ii.
or iii. dayes at Lions together, when they trauaile through the contrey? if
I fall to trauailinge once, be fore suche time as I be come vnto my
iourneyes ende, me thinks I am neuer at quiet in my mind.

William.

¶ Say ye so indeede? And I put you out of doubt, I wonder howe men can bee
withdrawen thence againe after they be once come thether.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea doe? And how so I pray you?

William.

¶ Mary sir because that is the verye place from whence Ulisses companions
coulde in no wise be gotten by perswasion. There are the sweet Mermaides
(that are spoken of) I warrant ye. Assuredlie, no man is better vsed at
home at his own house then a guest is entertained there in a common Inne.

Bertulphe.

¶ Why? What is their order and vsage there?

William.

¶ Some woman or other did alwayes attende vpon the table to cheere the
company with pleasaunt talke and prety conceites. And I tell you the women
are meruailous bewtiful and wel fauoured there. Firste of all the good wife
of the house came & welcomed vs, praying vs all there to bee merye, and to
take well in woorthe suche poore cheere as shee hadde prouided: when shee
was gone, in commeth her Daughter (beeinge a verye proper woman) and tooke
her roome: also whose behauioure and tongue were so pleasaunt and
delectable, that she was able to make euen the grimme Sire Cato to bee
merye and laugh, and besyde that they doe not talke wyth theyr guestes as
with men whome they neuer sawe before, but euen so famylyarlye and
freendlye, as if they were menne that were of their olde acquaintaunce.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea, thys is the ciuilytye of Fraunce in deede.

William.

¶ And because the Mother and the Daughter coulde not bee alwayes in the
waye (for that they muste goe aboute theyr houssholde businesse, and
welcome their other guestes in other places) a pretye little minion Girle
stode forthe there by and by (hauinge learned her liripuppe and lesson
alreadye in all pointes I warraunte you) to make all the pastime that
mighte be possible, and to aunswere (at omnia quare) all such as shoulde be
busye to talke and dally with her, So shee didde prolonge or vpholde the
Enterlude, till the goodwifes Daughter came vnto vs againe. For as for the
mother she was somewhat striken in yeres.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea but tell vs what good cheere yee had there (I praye you) for a manne
cannot fill his bellye with pleasaunte talke you knowe well inoughe.

William.

¶ I promise you faithfullye wee had notable good chere there, in so much
that I wonder how they can entertaine their guestes so good cheape as they
doe. And then when our table was tak[~e] vp, they fedde oure mindes wyth
their merye deuises, leaste wee shoulde thinke the time werysome. Me
thought I was euen at home at mine owne house, and not a trauayler abroade
in a straunge co[~u]try.

Bertulphe.

¶ And what was the facion in your bed chambers there?

William.

¶ Why? some wenches went in euerye corner giggelinge there, playing the
wantons, and dalying with vs, of their owne motion they would aske whether
we had any foule gere to washe or no. That they washed and brought vs
cleane againe, what should I make a longe proces or circumstance, we sawe
nothinge els there but wenches and wemen sauinge in the stable. And yet
many times they would fetche their vagaries in thether also. When the
guestes be going awaye, they embrace them, and take their leaue sweetlye
with suche kindnes and curtesye, as if they were all brethern, or (at
least) nighe a kinne the one to the other.

Bertulphe.

¶ This behauiour doth well beseme Frenchmen peraduenture, how be it the
fashions of Duche lande[1] shall go for my monye when all is done, which
are altogether manlike.

William.

¶ Yt was neuer my chaunce to see the Contreye yet: and therfore I pray you
take so muche paine as to tell in what sorte they entertaine a straunger
with them.

Bertulphe.

¶ I am not sure whether it be so in euerye place or no, but I will not
sticke to reherse that whiche I haue sene with mine owne eyes. There no man
biddeth him welcome that comes, lest they shuld seme to go about to procure
a guest. And that of all sauces, they accompt a dishonest and beggarly
thing, and vnmete for their demurenes & grauetie. After you haue stoode
cryinge oute at the doore a good while, at the length some one or other
pereth out his hed at the stoue[2] window like as a snaile should pepe out
of his shell: for they liue ther in stoues, til the somer be almoste in the
Tropick of Cancer. Then must you aske of him, whether you may haue a
lodging there or no? yf he do not geue a contrary beck with his hed, you
may perceiue, that you shall haue entertainment. To those whiche aske where
aboutes the stable standes, he pointes vnto it with the wagging of his
hand. There maye you vse youre horse after your own diet, for no seruaunt
of the house shall once lay handes vnto it to help you. But if it bee an
Inne some what occupied or haunted, th[~e] the seruaunt sheweth there which
is the stable, & telleth you also a place where your horse shal stãd, full
vnhansomely for that purpose god knoweth for they reserue the better romes
for the after commers, specially for the noble men, yf you finde any fault
with any thinge, by an by they snub you with this: Sir, if mine Inne please
you not, goe seeke an other elsewhere in the name of god in cities, it is
longe ere they wil bring you hay forthe for your horse, and when they do
bring it, it is after a niuer facion[3] I warraunt you, and yet will they
aske asmuch mony of you for it (in a maner) as if it were Otes. After your
horse is once dressed you come with all your cariage into the stoue with
Bootes, Male, or Packe, and with Dirte, Bag and Baggage and all. Euery man
is vsed to this generally.

William.

¶ In Fraunce they haue certaine chaumbers for the nonce, where guests may
put of their clothes may wipe or make clean th[~e] selues, may warme them
selues: yea may take their ease to, if they bee so disposed.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea, but here is no suche facions I tel you. In the stoue, you pul of
youre Bootes, you pull on youre Shooes, you chaunge youre Shirt if you bee
so minded, you hange vp youre clothes all weate, with raine harde by the
Chimney, and to make youre selfe drye doe stande by the same your selfe,
you haue also water sette readye for your handes, which moste commonly is
so clenlye, that you muste after seeke other water, to washe of that water
againe.

William.

¶ I commende them as menne not corrupted with to much finenesse or
daintinesse.

Bertulphe.

¶ Thoughe it be youre chaunce to come thether about iiii. of the clocke at
afternoone, yet shall you not go to supper for all that vntill it be nine
of the clocke at night, and sometime not before tenne.

William.

¶ How so?

Bertulphe.

¶ They make nothinge ready til they see all their guestes come in, that
they may serue them all vnder one without more adoe.

William.

¶ These men seeke the neerest way to woorke, I see wel.

Bertulphe.

¶ You say true in deede: They doe so, and therfore often times there come
all into one Stooue, lxxx. or xC. Footemen, Horsemen, Marchauntmen,
Mariners, Carters, Plowemen, Children, Wemen, hole and sicke.

William.

¶ Marye this is a communitye of lyfe in deede.

Bertulphe.

¶ One kembes his head there. An other doth rubbe of his sweat there. An
other maketh cleane his startops[4] or bootes there. An other belcks out
hys Garlicke there. What needes manye wordes? There is as muche mingle
mangle of parsons there, as was in the old time at the Towre of Babell. And
if they chaunce to see a straunger amonge them, whiche in his apparell
semeth somewhat braue, galaunt and gentlemanlike, they all stand prying
vpon him with their eyes, gasing and gapinge as if some straunge beaste
were brought them out of Aphrick, in so much as after they are once set,
they be eye him stil an end and neuer looke of, as men forgetting th[~e]
selues that they be now at supper.

William.

¶ At Rome, at Parise, and at Venice, no mã maketh any such wonderment at
all.

Bertulphe.

¶ Nowe it is a sore matter I tell you to call for ought there al this
while: when it is farre night and they looke for no more guestes at that
time, then commeth forthe an olde stager of the house, with a gray beard, a
polled hed, a frowning co[~u]tenaunce, clad in il fauored apparaile.

William.

¶ Yea mary suche fellowes as these you speak of, should fill the Cardinals
cups at Rome.

Bertulphe.

¶ He casting his eyes about, reckeneth vnto him selfe howe manye therebe in
the stoue at all, the moe he seeth there, the greater he maketh his fire,
though the sonne beside doth greatly annoy with his perching heat. Among
them, this is accoumpted the principallest pointe of good entertainment, if
they all sweat like Bulles, that they doe euen drop again. But if one not
vsed to this choking and smotheringe ayre, should chaunce to open but a
chinke of the window to keepe him self from stifeling, he should by and by
haue this saied vnto him: Shut it I pray you, if you aunswere that you
canne not abide it, ye haue this in your nose for your labor, why? then go
seeke you an other Inne, on gods name.

William.

¶ But me thinkes there can be no greater daunger for health, then that so
many should drawe in and out all one vapour: specially when the body is in
a sweat, and in this same place to eat meate together, and to tarye
together a great while in company, for now I wil not speak of belchinges
that sauour of garlick, nor of fistinge, or fisseling[5] nor of stinking
breths, many there be (I tel you) that haue priuy diseases, and euery
desease hath his proper infection. And surely the moste of th[~e] haue the
spanishe scabbe, or as some terme it the frenche pockes: thoughe now adaies
one nation hathe it commonlye asmuche as an other. I suppose (I tel you)
that there is as great ieobardye in companyinge with these as it is with
lepers, and nowe gesse you howe muche difference is betwene this and the
pestilence?

Bertulphe.

¶ Tushe man they bee stoute fellowes: they doe scorne theise thinges, and
make as it were no accompt of them.

William.

¶ But yet they are stout with hazardinge of many a mannes helth I tell you
plainely.

Bertulphe.

¶ Why? What should a man do?
They haue thus vsed them selues euermore, and
it is a token of constancy and stabilitie neuer to varye or geue ouer that
whiche they haue once taken in hand.

William.

¶ But aboue twentye yeeres agone, there was nothinge more vsed amonge the
Brabanders, then the common Bathes. And now adaies, the same are laied a
side euery where: for this stra[~u]g scabbe (I speake of) hathe taught men
to come no more thether.

Bertulphe.

¶ But go toe? Harken to the rest of my tale that is behind. That grim
bearded Ganimede coms to vs afterwardes againe, and layeth as many tables
as he then thinkes will serue for the nomber of his guestes, But Lord, what
baggage are the table clothes? if you saw them I dare say you would think
them h[~e]pen cloths, that are taken from the sailes of ships: they be so
course, for he hath apointed that viii. guests shall sit at one table at
the least. Nowe those that are acquainted with the facion of the country,
doe sit downe euery man, where he listeth him selfe, for there is no
diuersitie or cursye I tell you there, betweene the poore man and the
riche, betweene the Master and his seruaunt. They are all one. One as good
as an other, there is heere (as they say) no difference betwene the
shepherd and his dog.

William.

¶ Yea marye: this is the olde facion when all is done, that Tiranny hath
now abolished and put away from amõg vs: I think Christ liued iump[6] after
this maner on the earth when he was here conuersaunt with his Apostles.

Bertulphe.

¶ After they be all set, in commeth the frowning minion againe, and once
more falleth to recken what company he hathe there: by and by retourning he
layeth euery one a trenchar, and a spone of the same siluer: and then after
that, hee setteth downe a drinkinge glasse and within a while bringes in
bread which euery manne (at leysure) chippeth and pareth for him selfe,
whiles the potage is a sethinge. They sit mopinge after thys manner,
otherwhiles a whole houre together, ere they can get any thinge to eate.

William.

¶ Why? Doe none of the guestes call earnestlye vpon them to haue in the
Supper all this while?

Bertulphe.

¶ No, none of them all that knowes the Facion of the countrye. At the laste
they are serued with Wyne: but youe woulde wonder to see what small geare
it is, Scoolemen or Sophisters shoulde drinke none other by myne aduise,
because it is so thinne and tarte: how bee it if a guest shoulde chaunce
(beside his shotte) to offer Monye to one, and desyre him to gette some
better Wyne thenne that some other where, because he lykes it not: they
firste make as though they hearde him not: but yet they bee eye hym with
suche a bigge an frowning countenaunce as if the Deuyl should loke ouer
LINCOLN (as they doe saye) If you will not linne[7] callinge vppon them,
thenne they make youe this aunswere. So many EARLES and MARQUESES, haue
lodged here in our house, & yet the time is yet to come, that euer they
founde any fault with our wine. And therefore if ye fancy it not, get ye
packing in the name of God, and seeke an other Inne where ye liste. For
they accompt great men and noble men for men onely in their contrye I tell
you, setting their armes abroade in euery corner of their house for a
shewe. Now by this time they are serued with a soupe, to alay and pacify
their pore hongry and crookling stomackes, well nigh loste for meat, hard
at the heeles of that comes forthe the dishes with greate ceremonie, pompe
or solemnitie. For the firste course they haue soppes or slices of bread,
soaked in fleshe brothe, or if it be a fishe day, in the broth of pulce.
Then nexte they haue an other brothe: and after that they are serued wyth
fleshe twise sod[8], or fishe twise het. And yet, after this, they haue
potage once againe, immediatly after, they haue some stiffer meate til
suche time as they world beinge well amended with them, they set roste on
the table, or sodde[8] freshe fishe, whiche a man can not all together
mislike. But when it comes to that once they make spare and whip it away at
a sodaine I warraunt you, they facion out euery thinge in his dew time &
place. And as the players of Enterludes or comedies, are wonte in their
Scenes, to entermedle theyr Chories, so doe these Duche men serue forthe to
their guests, Soppes and Potage enterchañgeably or by course. But they
prouide that the latter inde of the feast be best furnished.

William.

¶ And this (I tell you) is the poynte of a good Poet.

Bertulphe.

¶ Besides this it were a sore offence for one all this while to say: Away
with this dishe, no man doth eat of it, here you must sit out your time
appointed, being so euen and iumpe, that I thinke they measure it oute by
some water clockes. At l[~e]gth that bearded Grimson[9] comes forth againe
or els the Inholder him selfe, litle or nothing differing from his
seruauntes in his apparaile and brauery. He asketh what cheere is with vs:
by & by some stronger wine is brought, and they caste a great loue to him
that drinketh lustely: wheras he payes no more money that drinketh moste
then he, that drinketh least.

William.

¶ I put you out of doubt, it is a wonderful nature of the countrey.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea, this doe they in deede: whereas there bee sometime there, that drink
two times somuche in wine, as they paye in all for the shot. But before I
doe make an end of this Supper, it is a wonderful thing to tell what noise
and iangeling of tongues there is, after they begin all to bee well whitled
with wine. What shoulde I neede manye wordes? All things there haue lost
their hearing and are becom deafe. And many times disguised patches or
coxecomes doe come amonge them to make sporte: whiche kinde of men,
althoughe of all other it be most to be abhorred, yet you wil scant beleue
howe muche the Germaines are delighted with them. They keepe sike a coile
with their singinge, theire chatting, their hoopinge and hallowinge, theire
praunsinge, theire bounsinge, that the Stooue seemeth as if it woulde fall
downe vpon their heds, and none can heare what an other saith. And yet all
thys while they, perswade them selues, that they liue as well as hearte
canne thinke, or, as the day is broad and longe to.

William.

¶ Wel nowe make an ende of this Supper, I pray: for I am weary of so
tedious a Supper my selfe to.

Bertulphe.

¶ So I will. At the laste when the cheese is ones taken vp, whiche scantly
pleaseth their aptite, onlesse it craule ful of magots, that old
Siuicoxe[10] comes forth againe, bringinge with hym a meate Trenchoure in
his hande, vppon the whiche with chalke he hath made certaine rundelles and
halfe rundelles: that same he layeth downe vpon the table, loking very
demurelye & sadlye all the while. They that are acquainted with those
markes or skoares, doe laye downe their monye, after them an other, then
another, vntill suche time as the trenchoure bee couered, then markinge
those whiche layed downe anye thinge, he counteth or maketh reckening
softely vnto him selfe: if he misse nothing of that which the reckening
comes to, hee maketh a becke or dieugard with his hed.

William.

¶ What if theer be any ouerplus there?

Bertulphe.

¶ Peraduenture he woulde giue it them againe, and some whiles they doeso,
if it strike in their braines.

William.

¶ And is there none that speaketh againste this vnegall reckening?

Bertulphe.

¶ No, none that hathe any witte in his head, for by and by they woulde saye
thus vnto hym. What kinde of man arte thou? I tell thee thou shalt paye no
more for thy Supper heere, then other men do.

William.

¶ Marye this kinde of people is franke and free I see wel.

Bertulphe.

¶ But if one (beeinge werye with trauaile) should desire to go to bed as
soone as Supper is done, they will him tarye, till all the other go to bed
to.

William.

¶ Me thinkes I se Platoes common welth heere.

Bertulphe.

¶ Then euerye mannes Cabin is shewed him, & in deede, nothinge elles but a
bare chaumber for all that is there, is but beddes, and the Deuill a whit
there is else beside there, eyther to occupye or els to steale.

William.

¶ There is neatnesse or clenlinesse I warraunt you.

Bertulphe.

¶ Yea by roode, euen suche as was at the Supper. The Sheetes peraduenture
were washed halfe a yeere before.

William.

¶ And how fayres your horses all this while.

Bertulphe.

¶ They are vsed after the same rate that the m[~e] bee.

William.

¶ But is this maner of entertainement in eueryplace there?

Bertulphe.

¶ In some place it is more curteous, in some place againe, it is more
currishe then I haue made rehersall, howbeit generallye it is euen after
this order.

William.

¶ What would you say if I should now tell you how strañgers are entreated
in that part of Italy which they call Lõbardy, and again in spaine howe
they be vsed, and how in Englande and in Wales for Englishe men in
conditions are halfe Frenche, halfe Dutche as men indifferente betweene
both. Of theise two contries, Welche men say that they are the right
Brittaines first inhabiting the land.

Bertulphe.

¶ Mary I pray thee hartely tell me, for it was neuer my fortune to trauaile
into them.

William.

¶ Nay, I haue no laysure nowe at this time, for the Mariner bad me bee with
him at three of the clock, except I would be left behinde, and he hath a
Packette of mine. Another time wee shall haue laysure enough to tell of
these thinges our bellies full.