No More Learning

He was a huge Fellow. We cry out,
who's that third Person? He'll drown us all. But he very calmly bids us
be easy, for there was Room enough, God will be with us.

_Ant. _ How came he to be so late?

_Adol. _ He was to have been in the Boat with the _Dominican_. For they
all paid him this Deference. But tho' they had confess'd themselves in
the Ship, yet having forgotten I know not what Circumstances, they
confess'd over again at the Ship-Side, and each lays his Hand upon the
other, and while this was doing the Boat was over-turn'd. This I had
from _Adam_ himself.

_Ant. _ What became of the _Dominican_?

_Adol. _ As the same Man told me, having implor'd the Help of his Saints,
and stript himself, he threw himself naked into the Sea.

_Ant. _ What Saints did he call upon?

_Adol. _ St. _Dominick_, St. _Thomas_, St. _Vincent_, and one of the
_Peters_, but I can't tell which: But his chief Reliance was upon
_Catherinea Senensis_.

_Ant. _ Did he not remember _Christ_?

_Adol. _ Not, as the old Priest told me.

_Ant. _ He would have swam better if he had thrown off his sanctified
Coul: But if that had been laid aside, how should _Catherine_ of _Siena_
have known him? But go on and tell me about yourself.

_Adol. _ While we were yet tumbling and tossing near the Ship, which
roll'd hither and thither at the Mercy of the Waves, the Thigh of him
that held the left End of the Stump of the Mast was broken by a great
Spike, and so that made him let go his Hold. The old Priest wishing him
everlasting Rest, took his Place, encouraging me to maintain my Post on
the right Hand resolutely, and to strike out my Feet stoutly. In the
mean Time we drank in abundance of salt Water. For _Neptune_ had
provided us not only a salt Bath, but a salt Potion too, altho' the old
Priest prescribed a Remedy for it.

_Ant. _ What was that?

_Adol. _ Why, as often as a Billow met us, he turn'd his Head and shut
his Mouth.

_Ant. _ You tell me of a brave old Fellow.

_Adol. _ When we had been some Time swimming at this Rate, and had made
some Way, the old Priest being a very tall Man, cries out, Be of good
Heart, I feel Ground; but I durst not hope for such a Blessing. No, no,
says I, we are too far from Shoar to hope to feel Ground. Nay, says he,
I feel the Ground with my Feet. Said I, perhaps it is some of the Chests
that have been roll'd thither by the Sea. Nay, says he, I am sure I feel
Ground by the Scratching of my Toes. Having floated thus a little
longer, and he had felt the Bottom again, Do you do what you please,
says he, I'll leave you the whole Mast, and wade for it. And so he took
his Opportunity, at the Ebbing of the Billows, he made what Haste he
could on his Feet, and when the Billows came again, he took Hold of his
Knees with his Hands, and bore up against the Billows, hiding himself
under them as Sea Gulls and Ducks do, and at the Ebbing of the Wave, he
would start up and run for it. I seeing that this succeeded so well to
him, followed his Example. There stood upon the Shoar Men, who had long
Pikes handed from one to another, which kept them firm against the Force
of the Waves, strong bodied Men, and accustom'd to the Waves, and he
that was last of them held out a Pike to the Person swimming towards
him. All that came to Shoar, and laying hold of that, were drawn safely
to dry Land. Some were sav'd this Way.

_Ant. _ How many?

_Adol. _ Seven. But two of these fainted away being brought to the Fire.

_Ant. _ How many were in the Ship?

_Adol. _ Fifty-eight.

_Ant. _ O cruel Sea. At least it might have been content with the Tithes,
which are enough for Priests. Did it restore so few out of so great a
Number?

_Adol. _ There we had Experience of the wonderful Humanity of the Nation,
that supply'd us with all Necessaries with exceeding Chearfulness; as
Lodging, Fire, Victuals, Cloaths, and Money to bear our Charges when we
went away.

_Ant. _ What Country was it?

_Adol. Holland. _

_Ant. _ There's no Nation more human, altho' they are encompass'd with
such fierce Nations. I fancy you won't be for going to Sea again.

_Adol. _ No, unless God shall please to deprive me of my Reason.

_Ant. _ I would rather hear such Stories than feel them.




_DIVERSORIA. _


The ARGUMENT.

_This Colloquy shews the various Customs of Nations and
their Civility in treating Strangers. An Inn at_ Leyden
_where are nothing but Women. The Manners of the_ French
_Inns, who are us'd to tell Stories, and break Jests.
The_ Germans, _far more uncivil in treating Travellers,
being rude, and wholly inhospitable: The Guests look
after their own Horses: The Method of receiving them into
the Stove: They provide no Supper, till they know how
many Guests they shall have: All that come that Night,
sit down to Supper together: All pay alike, tho' one
drinks twice as much Wine as another does. _


BERTULPH and WILLIAM.

_Bert. _ I wonder what is the Fancy of a great many, for staying two or
three Days at _Lyons_? When I have once set out on a Journey, I an't at
Rest till I come to my Journey's End.

_Will. _ Nay, I wonder as much, that any Body can get away from thence.

_Bert. _ But why so?

_Will. _ Because that's a Place the Companions of _Ulysses_ could not
have got away from. There are _Sirens_. No Body is better entertain'd at
his own House, than he is there at an Inn.

_Bert. _ What is done there?

_Will. _ There's a Woman always waiting at Table, which makes the
Entertainment pleasant with Railleries, and pleasant Jests. And the
Women are very handsome there. First the Mistress of the House came and
bad us Welcome, and to accept kindly what Fare we should have; after
her, comes her Daughter, a very fine Woman, of so handsome a Carriage,
and so pleasant in Discourse, that she would make even _Cato_ himself
merry, were he there: And they don't talk to you as if you were perfect
Strangers, but as those they have been a long Time acquainted with, and
familiar Friends.

_Bert. _ O, I know the _French_ Way of Civility very well.

_Will. _ And because they can't be always with you, by Reason of the
other Affairs of the House, and the welcoming of other Guests, there
comes a Lass, that supplies the Place of the Daughter, till she is at
Leisure to return again. This Lass is so well instructed in the Knack of
Repartees, that she has a Word ready for every Body, and no Conceit
comes amiss to her. The Mother, you must know, was somewhat in Years.

_Bert. _ But what was your Table furnish'd with? For Stories fill no
Bellies.

_Will. _ Truly, so splendid, that I was amaz'd that they could afford to
entertain their Guests so, for so small a Price. And then after Dinner,
they entertain a Man with such facetious Discourse, that one cannot be
tired; that I seemed to be at my own House, and not in a strange Place.

_Bert. _ And how went Matters in your Chambers?

_Will. _ Why, there was every where some pretty Lass or other, giggling
and playing wanton Tricks? They ask'd us if we had any foul Linnen to
wash; which they wash and bring to us again: In a word, we saw nothing
there but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they would
every now and then run in there too. When you go away, they embrace ye,
and part with you with as much Affection, as if you were their own
Brothers, or near Kinsfolks.

_Bert. _ This Mode perhaps may become the _French_, but methinks the Way
of the _Germans_ pleases me better, which is more manly.

_Will. _ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much to
tell how they entertain a Traveller.

_Bert. _ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same
every where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guest
welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for
that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German
Gravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one
puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves
till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell: Him you must ask
if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take
it for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where the
Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please
yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be a
noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your
Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those
that shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen. If you find Fault
with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look for
another Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and
sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Care
of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and
all, for that is a common Room for all Comers.

_Will. _ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may
change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have
a Mind to it.

_Bert. _ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off your
Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up
your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself.
There's Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as
for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want
another Water to wash that off.

_Will. _ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy
in them.

_Bert. _ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go
to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten.

_Will. _ Why so?

_Bert. _ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Company
together, that one Trouble may serve for all.

_Will. _ They are for taking the shortest Way.

_Bert. _ You are right; so that oftentimes, there come all together into
the same Stove, eighty or ninety Foot-Men, Horse-Men, Merchants,
Marriners, Waggoners, Husband-Men, Children, Women, sick and sound.

_Will. _ This is having all Things in common.

_Bert. _ There one combs his Head, another wipes off his Sweat, another
cleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and in
short, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as there
was at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body of
another Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they all
stare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal brought
out of _Africa_. And when they are set at Table, and he behind them,
they will be still looking back at him, and be staring him in the Face,
till they have forgot their Suppers.

_Will. _ At _Rome_, _Paris_ or _Venice_, there's no Body thinks any Thing
strange.

_Bert. _ In the mean Time, 'tis a Crime for you to call for any Thing.
When it is grown pretty late, and they don't expect any more Guests, out
comes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and a
crabbed Look, and a slovenly Dress.

_Will. _ Such Fellows ought to be Cup-Bearers to the Cardinals at _Rome_.

_Bert. _ He having cast his Eyes about, counts to himself, how many there
are in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in the
Stove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would be
troublesome; and this with them, is accounted a principal Part of good
Entertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any one
who is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never so
little, that he be not stifled, presently they cry out to shut it again:
If you answer you are not able to bear it, you'll presently hear, get
you another Inn then.

_Will. _ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so many
to draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened with
the Heat; and to eat in the same Place, and to stay there so many Hours,
not to mention the belching of Garlick, the Farting, the stinking
Breaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has its
Contagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it is
call'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And it
is my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there is
from those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of a
Pestilence?

_Bert. _ They are Persons of a strong Constitution, and laugh at, and
disregard those Niceties.

_Will. _ But in the mean Time, they are bold at the Perils of other Men.

_Bert. _ What would you do in this Case? 'Tis what they have been used
to, and it is a Part of a constant Mind, not to depart from a Custom.

_Will. _ And yet, within these five and twenty Years, nothing was more in
Vogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grown
out of Use; but the new Scabbado has taught us to lay them down.

_Bert. _ Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded
_Ganymede_ again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are
Guests: But, good God! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have
been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to
every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their
Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor
or Rich, between the Master and Servant.

_Will. _ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has
driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner
with his Disciples.

_Bert. _ After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd _Ganymede_
again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again,
and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and
then a Glass; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests
may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is
boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour.

_Will. _ Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time?

_Bert. _ None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set
upon the Table: Good God! how far from being tasteless? So thin and
sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests
should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some
where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as
if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they
answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have
lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you
don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the Noblemen of
their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing
you their Arms.
By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking
Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the
first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a
Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of
Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again,
and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until
their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed
Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of,
and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the
Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their
Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care
that the last Act shall be the best.

_Will. _ This is the Part of a good Poet.

_Bert. _ And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body
should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your
Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass. At length,
out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but
little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and
by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink
most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least.

_Will. _ A strange Temper of the Nation!

_Bert. _ There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay
for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is
wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to
be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in
a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they
are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling,
jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon
your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is
a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart
till near Midnight.

_Will. _ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a
tedious one.

_Bert. _ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely
pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old
bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and
semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table,
with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some
_Charon_. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money
one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of
those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he
gives you a Nod.

_Will. _ But what if there should be any Thing over and above?

_Bert. _ Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so.

_Will. _ Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning?

_Bert. _ No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow
are you? You pay no more than the rest.

_Will. _ This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of.

_Bert. _ If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed
as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too.

_Will. _ This seems to me to be _Plato_'s City.

_Bert. _ Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing
else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you
can either make Use of or steal.

_Will. _ Are Things very clean there?

_Bert. _ As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six
Months ago.

_Will. _ What becomes of your Horses all this While?

_Bert. _ They are treated after the Manner that the Men are.

_Will. _ But is there the same Treatment every where.

_Bert. _ It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others,
than I have told you; but in general it is thus.

_Will. _ What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in
that Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in
_England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both of
the _French_ and the _Germans_, being a Mixture of those two Nations.
The _Welsh_ boast themselves to be the original _English_.

_Bert. _ Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in
them.

_Will. _ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on
board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Passage. Another Time we
shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full.




_The YOUNG MAN and HARLOT. _


The ARGUMENT.

_This is certainly a divine Colloquy, that makes even a
Bawdy-House a chaste Place! God can't be deceiv'd, his
Eyes penetrate into the most secret Places. That young
Persons ought in an especial Manner to take Care of their
Chastity. A young Woman, who made herself common to get a
Livelihood, is recovered from that Course of Life, as
wretched as it is scandalous. _


LUCRETIA, SOPHRONIUS.

_Lu. _ O brave! My pretty _Sophronius_, have I gotten you again? It is an
Age methinks since I saw you. I did not know you at first Sight.

_So. _ Why so, my _Lucretia_?

_Lu. _ Because you had no Beard when you went away, but you're come back
with something of a Beard. What's the Matter, my little Heart, you look
duller than you use to do?

_So. _ I want to have a little Talk with you in private.

_Lu. _ Ah, ah, are we not by ourselves already, my Cocky?

_So. _ Let us go out of the Way somewhere, into a more private Place.

_Lu. _ Come on then, we'll go into my inner Bed-Chamber, if you have a
Mind to do any Thing.

_So. _ I don't think this Place is private enough yet.

_Lu. _ How comes it about you're so bashful all on a sudden? Well, come,
I have a Closet where I lay up my Cloaths, a Place so dark, that we can
scarce see one another there.

_So. _ See if there be no Chink.

_Lu. _ There is not so much as a Chink.

_So. _ Is there no Body near to hear us?

_Lu. _ Not so much as a Fly, my Dear; Why do you lose Time?

_So. _ Can we escape the Eye of God here?

_Lu. _ No, he sees all Things clearly.

_So. _ And of the Angels?

_Lu. _ No, we cannot escape their Sight.

_So. _ How comes it about then, that Men are not asham'd to do that in
the Sight of God, and before the Face of the holy Angels, that they
would be ashamed to do before Men?

_Lu. _ What Sort of an Alteration is this? Did you come hither to preach
a Sermon? Prithee put on a _Franciscan_'s Hood, and get up into a
Pulpit, and then we'll hear you hold forth, my little bearded Rogue.

_So. _ I should not think much to do that, if I could but reclaim you
from this Kind of Life, that is the most shameful and miserable Life in
the World.

_Lu. _ Why so, good Man? I am born, and I must be kept; every one must
live by his Calling. This is my Business; this is all I have to live on.

_So. _ I wish with all my Heart, my _Lucretia_, that setting aside for a
While that Infatuation of Mind, you would seriously weigh the Matter.

_Lu. _ Keep your Preachment till another Time; now let us enjoy one
another, my _Sophronius_.

_So. _ You do what you do for the Sake of Gain.

_Lu. _ You are much about the Matter.

_So. _ Thou shalt lose nothing by it, do but hearken to me, and I'll pay
you four Times over.

_Lu. _ Well, say what you have a Mind to say.

_So. _ Answer me this Question in the first Place: Are there any Persons
that owe you any ill Will?

_Lu. _ Not one.

_So. _ Is there any Body that you have a Spleen against?

_Lu. _ According as they deserve.

_So. _ And if you could do any Thing that would gratify them, would you
do it?

_Lu. _ I would poison 'em sooner.

_So. _ But then do but consider with yourself; is there any Thing that
you can do that gratifies them more than to let them see you live this
shameful and wretched Life? And what is there thou canst do that would
be more afflicting to them that wish thee well?

_Lu. _ It is my Destiny.

_So. _ Now that which uses to be the greatest Hardship to such as are
transported, or banish'd into the most remote Parts of the World, this
you undergo voluntarily.

_Lu. _ What is that?

_So. _ Hast thou not of thy own Accord renounc'd all thy Affections to
Father, Mother, Brother, Sisters, Aunts, (by Father's and Mother's Side)
and all thy Relations? For thou makest them all asham'd to own thee, and
thyself asham'd to come into their Sight.

_Lu. _ Nay, I have made a very happy Exchange of Affections; for instead
of a few, now I have a great many, of which you are one, and whom I have
always esteem'd as a Brother.

_So. _ Leave off Jesting, and consider the Matter seriously, as it really
is. Believe me, my _Lucretia_, she who has so many Friends, has never a
one, for they that follow thee do it not as a Friend, but as a House of
Office rather. Do but consider, poor Thing, into what a Condition thou
hast brought thyself. _Christ_ lov'd thee so dearly as to redeem thee
with his own Blood, and would have thee be a Partaker with him in an
heavenly Inheritance, and thou makest thyself a common Sewer, into which
all the base, nasty, pocky Fellows resort, and empty their Filthiness.
And if that leprous Infection they call the _French_ Pox han't yet
seiz'd thee, thou wilt not escape it long. And if once thou gettest it,
how miserable wilt thou be, though all things should go favourably on
thy Side? I mean thy Substance and Reputation. Thou wouldest be nothing
but a living Carcase. Thou thoughtest much to obey thy Mother, and now
thou art a mere Slave to a filthy Bawd. You could not endure to hear
your Parents Instructions; and here you are often beaten by drunken
Fellows and mad Whoremasters. It was irksome to thee to do any Work at
Home, to get a Living; but here, how many Quarrels art thou forc'd to
endure, and how late a Nights art thou oblig'd to sit up?

_Lu. _ How came you to be a Preacher?

_So. _ And do but seriously consider, this Flower of thy Beauty that now
brings thee so many Gallants, will soon fade: And then, poor Creature,
what wilt thou do? Thou wilt be piss'd upon by every Body. It may be,
thou thinkest, instead of a Mistress, I'll then be a Bawd. All Whores
can't attain to that, and if thou shouldst, what Employment is more
impious, and more like the Devil himself?

_Lu. _ Why, indeed, my _Sophronius_, almost all you say is very true. But
how came you to be so religious all of a sudden? Thou usedst to be the
greatest Rake in the World, one of 'em. No Body used to come hither more
frequently, nor at more unseasonable Hours than you did. I hear you have
been at _Rome_.

_So. _ I have so.

_Lu. _ Well, but other People use to come from thence worse than they
went: How comes it about, it is otherwise with you?

_So. _ I'll tell you, because I did not go to _Rome_ with the same
Intent, and after the same Manner that others do. Others commonly go to
_Rome_, on purpose to come Home worse, and there they meet with a great
many Opportunities of becoming so. I went along with an honest Man, by
whose Advice, I took along with me a Book instead of a Bottle: The New
Testament with _Erasmus_'s Paraphrase.

_Lu. _ _Erasmus_'s? They say that he's Half a Heretick.