No More Learning

_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.

_So. _ Has his Name reached to this Place too?

_Lu. _ There's no Name more noted among us.

_So. _ Did you ever see him?

_Lu. _ No, I never saw him; but I should be glad to see him; I have heard
so many bad Reports of him.

_So. _ It may be you have heard 'em, from them that are bad themselves.

_Lu. _ Nay, from Men of the Gown.

_So. _ Who are they?

_Lu. _ It is not convenient to name Names.

_So. _ Why so?

_Lu. _ Because if you should blab it out, and it should come to their
Ears, I should lose a great many good Cullies.

_So. _ Don't be afraid, I won't speak a Word of it.

_Lu. _ I will whisper then.

_So. _ You foolish Girl, what Need is there to whisper, when there is no
Body but ourselves? What, lest God should hear? Ah, good God! I perceive
you're a religious Whore, that relievest Mendicants.

_Lu. _ I get more by them Beggars than by you rich Men.

_So. _ They rob honest Women, to lavish it away upon naughty Strumpets.

_Lu. _ But go on, as to your Book.

_So. _ So I will, and that's best. In that Book, Paul, that can't lie,
told me, that _neither Whores nor Whore-mongers shall obtain the Kingdom
of Heaven_. When I read this, I began thus to think with myself: It is
but a small Matter that I look for from my Father's Inheritance, and yet
I can renounce all the Whores in the World, rather than be disinherited
by my Father; how much more then ought I to take Care, lest my heavenly
Father should disinherit me? And human Laws do afford some Relief in the
Case of a Father's disinheriting or discarding a Son: But here is no
Provision at all made, in case of God's disinheriting; and upon that, I
immediately ty'd myself up from all Conversation with lewd Women.

_Lu. _ It will be well if you can hold it.

_So. _ It is a good Step towards Continence, to desire to be so. And last
of all, there is one Remedy left, and that is a Wife. When I was at
_Rome_, I empty'd the whole Jakes of my Sins into the Bosom of a
Confessor. And he exhorted me very earnestly to Purity, both of Mind and
Body, and to the reading of the holy Scripture, to frequent Prayer, and
Sobriety of Life, and enjoin'd me no other Penance, but that I should
upon my bended Knees before the high Altar say this Psalm, _Have Mercy
upon me, O God_: And that if I had any Money, I should give one Penny to
some poor Body. And I wondring that for so many whoring Tricks he
enjoin'd me so small a Penance, he answer'd me very pleasantly, My Son,
says he, if you truly repent and change your Life, I don't lay much
Stress upon the Penance; but if thou shalt go on in it, the very Lust
itself will at last punish thee very severely, although the Priest
impose none upon thee. Look upon me, I am blear-ey'd, troubled with the
Palsy, and go stooping: Time was I was such a one as you say you have
been heretofore. And thus I repented.

_Lu. _ Then as far as I perceive, I have lost my _Sophronius_.

_So. _ Nay, you have rather gain'd him, for he was lost before, and was
neither his own Friend nor thine: Now he loves thee in Reality, and
longs for the Salvation of thy Soul.

_Lu. _ What would you have me to do then, my _Sophronius_?

_So. _ To leave off that Course of Life out of Hand: Thou art but a Girl
yet, and that Stain that you have contracted may be wip'd off in Time.
Either marry, and I'll give you something toward a Portion, or go into
some Cloyster, that takes in crakt Maids, or go into some strange Place
and get into some honest Family, I'll lend you my Assistance to any of
these.

_Lu. _ My _Sophronius_, I love thee dearly, look out for one for me, I'll
follow thy Advice.

_So. _ But in the mean Time get away from hence.

_Lu. _ Whoo! what so suddenly!

_So. _ Why not to Day rather than to Morrow, if Delays are dangerous?

_Lu. _ Whither shall I go?

_So. _ Get all your Things together, give 'em to me in the Evening, my
Servant shall carry 'em privately to a faithful Matron: And I'll come a
little after and take you out as if it were to take a little Walk; you
shall live with her some Time upon my Cost till I can provide for you,
and that shall be very quickly.

_Lu. _ Well, my _Sophronius_, I commit myself wholly to thy Management.

_So. _ In Time to come you'll be glad you have done so.




_The POETICAL FEAST. _


The ARGUMENT.

_The Poetical Feast teaches the Studious how to banquet.
That Thriftiness with Jocoseness, Chearfulness without
Obscenity, and learned Stories, ought to season their
Feasts. Iambics are bloody. Poets are Men of no great
Judgment. The three chief Properties of a good Maid
Servant. Fidelity, Deformity, and a high Spirit. A Place
out of the Prologue of_ Terence's Eunuchus _is
illustrated. Also_ Horace's _Epode to_ Canidia. _A Place
out of_ Seneca. Aliud agere, nihil agere, male agere. _A
Place out of the Elenchi of_ Aristotle _is explain'd. A
Theme poetically varied, and in a different Metre.
Sentences are taken from Flowers and Trees in the Garden.
Also some Verses are compos'd in_ Greek.


HILARY, LEONARD, CRATO, GUESTS, MARGARET, CARINUS, EUBULUS, SBRULIUS,
PARTHENIUS, MUS, _Hilary_'s Servant.

Hi. _Levis apparatus, animus est lautissimus. _

Le. _Cænam sinistro es auspicatus omine. _

Hi. _Imo absit omen triste. Sed cur hoc putas? _

Le. _Cruenti Iambi haud congruent convivio. _

Hi. _I have but slender Fare, but a very liberal Mind. _

Le. _You have begun the Banquet with a bad Omen. _

Hi. _Away with bad Presages. But why do you think so? _

Le. _Bloody Iambics are not fit for a Feast. _

_Cr. _ O brave! I am sure the Muses are amongst us, Verses flow so from
us, when we don't think of 'em.

_Si rotatiles trochaeos mavelis, en, accipe:
Vilis apparatus heic est, animus est lautissimus. _

If you had rather have whirling Trochees, lo, here they are for you:
Here is but mean Provision, but I have a liberal Mind.

Although Iambics in old Time were made for Contentions and Quarrels,
they were afterwards made to serve any Subject whatsoever. O Melons!
Here you have Melons that grew in my own Garden. These are creeping
Lettuces of a very milky Juice, like their Name. What Man in his Wits
would not prefer these Delicacies before Brawn, Lampreys, and Moor-Hens?

_Cr.