Seven new colloquies translated out of Erasmus Roterodamus as also The life of Erasmus / by Mr. Brown.

THE Golden Ass, Or, The Wealthy Miser.

COL. V.

A Pleasant description of a Rich Usurer's way of Living, who from a sordid. Condition ar∣rived to a prodigious Wealth. That such E∣states generally come to a Prodigal Son, who squanders away all that Mony in Whoring and Drinking, which his penurious Father scrap'd together by Injustice and Op∣pression.

James. Gilbert.

Ia.

MErcy on us! what an alteration is here? Why where hast thou been, old Friend of mine, all this while, that thou art return'd so Meager and Chap-fallen, as if thou hadst found out the Mystery of living like Grashoppers upon dew? There are Twenty Skeletons yonder at Chirurgeon's Hall that look Fifty per Cent. better than thou dost. Thy Rump Bone has grated its way through thy Breeches, and, as the Fellow in Bartholomew Fair said, looks like the Ace of Spades. I dare engage, that were a Man to shake thee, thy Bones wou'd rattle in that wither'd Hide like three blew Beans in a blew Bladder.

Gil.

Those worthy Gentlemen

the Poets tell us, that in the Regions below the Ghosts are glad to feed upon Leeks and Mallows, but I have been Ten Months in a confounded place, where even these Dainties were not to be had.

Ia.

In what part of the World I wonder? Perhaps thou hast been starv'd and bastinado'd in∣to this fine Shape at Algiers, or got it by tug∣ging and sweating in a Gally.

Gil.

No, you are mistaken. I have been all this while in his Most Christian Majesty's most Pagan Territories, and if you'll have me particular to the place, at BOVRDEAVX.

Ia.

But how I wonder came it about, that you ran the risque of starving in a City so Rich, and provided with every thing?

Gi.

'Tis even so as I tell you.

Ia.

Prethee what might be the occasion of it? was the Ready all gone, and your Pockets quite founder'd?

Gi.

No I'faith I can't pretend that I wanted either Mony or Friends.

Ia.

For my part I am not able to unriddle this Mystery; but explain it if you please.

Ga.

You must know that some Business in the way of Trade led me to this City, since the Conclusion of the late Peace; and I both Lodged and Dyeted with a famous Merchant Monsieur le Maigre.

Ia.

That Rich old Fellow that has purchased so many Lordships, and had the fleecing of so many young Spendthrifts in his time?

Gi.

The same; but the most penurious, sordid Huncks that ever Cheated the Gallows.

Ia.

'Tis a Prodigy to me, that Men of Bulk and Substance, who are above the appre∣hensions of Poverty should deny themselves the Pleasures, but much more the Conveniences of Life.

Gi.

I don't wonder at it, for 'tis by this sordid way of Living, that from little or nothing to be∣gin the World with, they scrape so much Wealth together.

Ia.

But why then shou'd you chuse to pass

so many Months with him of all the Men in the World, when you knew his Character before hand?

Gi.

There was an Account of a long standing to be made up between us, and besides I had a great fancy, how it came into my Head I don't know, to see the management of his Family.

Ja.

Pray Communicate your Observations to a Friend then, for you have set my Curiosity on Tip-toe to know how it fared with you.

Gi.

With all my heart, for 'tis no little pleasure to run over the Hard∣ships one has sustained.

Ia.

I am confident the Relation will be very diverting to me.

Gi.

To Crown my Miseries, Providence so order'd it that the Wind sat full North for three whole Months; only this I must tell you, tho I am not Philosopher enough to assign the Reason for't, that it never held in that Quarter above eight Days together.

Ia.

Why then did you tell me it kept there three whole Months?

Gi.

Upon the eighth Day, as if by Agreement, if shifted its Station, where it continued for some seven or eight Hours, and then veer'd to the Old Point again.

Ia.

So Slender, and I was going to say so Transparent a Body as yours, wanted a good lusty Fire to keep it from Starving.

Gi.

A plague on't, there was no want of Fire, if we had had but Wood enough; but our most worthy Landlord, old Scrape-all, to save all the Expences possible in Firing, ordered his Servants to steal old Roots and Stumps of Trees, which no one else thought worth the while to grub up but himself, and had them brought home privately in the Night. Of these precious Stumps not a quarter dried enough, our Fire was made, which to do it Justice smoaked plentifully, but never flamed out; so that tho it did not warm us, we cou'd not say there was no Fire, and

that was all our Landlord aimed at. One of these Fires wou'd last us a whole day, so obsti∣nately did these perverse, knotty Loggs hold it out.

Ia.

Why, this was a cursed place for a Man to pass his Winter in.

Gi.

'Twas so, and yet 'twas a thousand times worse to stay a Summer there.

Ia.

How cou'd that be I wonder?

Gi.

Because the House was so damnably plagued with Fleas, and Buggs, and Gnats, that there was no resting for them in the day time, nor no sleeping in the night.

Ia.

What a wretched Wealth was here?

Gi.

Few Men I must own, were Wealthier than our Master in this sort of Cattle.

Ia.

Surely you had no Women in the Family, or else they were heathe∣nish, lazy Sluts.

Gi.

The Females were mew'd up in an Apartment by themselves, and seldom came among the Men, so they did none of those Services which properly belong to that Sex in other Families.

Ia.

But how cou'd the Master of the House endure all this Filth and Nastiness?

Gi.

Pshaw! he was used to it from his Cradle, and minded nothing in the World but scraping of Ri∣ches. He lov'd to be any where but at Home, and Traded in every thing you can think off; for Bourdeaux you know is a Town of great Com∣merce and Business. The famous Painter, whose Name is now out of my Head, thought the day lost wherein he did not employ his Pencil, and our Lanlord looked upon himself as undone, if one single day pass'd over his Head without some Profit or Advantage; and if such a Disaster hap∣pen'd to him, he did not fail to make it out one way or other at Home.

Ia.

Why, what was his Method?

Gi.

He had a Cistern of Water in his Court-yard, as most of the People of that City have, out of which he drew so many Buckets of

Cold Adam, and flung them into his Hogsheads: This was a most certain profit to him.

Ia.

I sup∣pose the Wine was somewhat of the strongest then, and wanted this Humiliation.

Gi.

Far from that, it was as dead as a Door-nail, for he never bought any Wine but what was decay'd to his Hand, to have it at an easier Rate; and that he might not lose a drop of this Gut-griping stuff, he wou'd jumble and tumble ye the Grounds of, at least, Ten Years standing, and set them a fermenting to∣gether, that it might pass for New Wine upon the Lee; for, as I told you before, he wou'd not have lost the least pint-full of Grounds to save his Grandfather's Soul.

Ia.

If the Doctor's word may be taken, this sort of Wine never fails to Re∣ward a Man with the Stone at long run.

Gi.

They are certainly in the right on't, and in the most healthful years two or three at least of the Family had their Heels tript up with this Distemper. But what was this to Monsieur le Maigre? He never troubled his Head about the Business, nor car'd a farthing how many Burials went out of his House, not he I promise you.

Ia.

'Tis strange, but what was the reason?

Gi.

He made a Penny even of the Dead, and the Grave paid a Tribute to him. There was no gain so contemptible and base but what he wou'd catch at as greedily as a Gudgeon at a Fly.

Ia.

Under favour, this was downright Theft though.

Gi.

Your Merchants call it turning an honest penny, or Christen it by the Name of good Husbandry.

Ia.

Well, but what sort of Liquor did the old Huncks drink all this while?

Gi.

The very same Nectar almost that I told you of.

Ia.

And did he find no harm, no inconvenience by it?

Gi.

You know the old Proverb, No Carrion will Kill a Crow. Besides, he had a Body as hard as a

Flint, and cou'd have made a hearty Meal upon Hay or chopt Straw. Had he been in Nebuchad∣nezzar's Case, it had been no Punishment to have sent him to Grass. The Prodigal Son in the Gos∣pel when he robb'd the poor Swine and fed upon Husks was a perfect Epicure to him; He had ac∣custom'd himself to this delicious Fare from his Infancy. But to return to our Subject. He looked upon this Dashing and Brewing of his Wine to be a most certain Profit to him.

Ia.

How so I be∣seech you?

Gi.

You'll soon find it out by the help of a very little Arithmetick. If you reckon his Wife, his Sons, his Daughter, his Son-in-law, his Men servants, and his Maid servants, he had about Thirty three Mouths to provide for in the Family: Now the more he Corrected his Wine with Water, the less of it was drunk, and the longer it was a drawing off. So then, if you Compute a large Bucket of Water thrown in eve∣ry day of the Week, it will amount to no despi∣cable Summ, let me tell you, at the Year's end.

Ia.

Oh! sordid Raskal! I never heard of such a Monster before.

Gi.

This was not all, he made the same advantage by his Bread.

Ia.

More my∣sterious still; and how cou'd that be?

Gi.

He wou'd never buy you any Wheat but what was musty, and such as the meanest Porter in the City wou'd scorn to buy for his own Eating. Now in the first place here was a present gain, because he bought it so much Cheaper, and then he had a never-failing trick to cure the Mustiness.

Ia.

I long to hear what it was.

Gi.

There is a sort of Chalk, if you have observ'd it, not altogether unlike to Corn, which you may see Horses are delighted with, when they gnaw it out of the Walls, and Drink more freely than usual of that Pond water, where this

Chalk is to be found. He mixed one Third part at least of this Earth with his Bread.

Ia.

And do you call this Curing it?

Gi.

I know by expe∣rience, that it made the Mustiness of the Corn to be not altogether so perceivable. Now tell me, was not this a considerable Profit? Besides, he had another Stratagem in reserve, for he Baked his own Bread at Home, which in the very midst of Sum∣mer he never did oftner than twice a Month.

Ia.

Why surely it must be as hard as Marble.

Gi.

And harder if 'tis possible; but we had a Remedy at hand for that too.

Ia.

Perhaps worse than the Disease, but what was it?

Gi.

With much tugging and sweating we cut this delicious Bread into fine thin Slices, and soaked them in the Wine.

Ia.

The Devil a Barrel the better Herring; but how did the Servants bear this abominable Vsage?

Gi.

First let me tell you how the Top folks of the Family were served, and then you may easily conjecture how the Servants fared.

Ia.

I am in pain till you ac∣quaint me.

Gi.

It was as bad as Treason to men∣tion that Apochryphal Word, Breakfast in the Fa∣mily; and as for Dinner, it was generally deferr'd till One of the Clock in the Afternoon.

Ia.

Why so?

Gi.

We were obliged, you may think, in good Manners to stay till the Master of the Family came Home, and we seldom Supt before Ten.

Ia.

Well but old Friend of mine, how cou'd your Stomach brook to be post-poned so? I have known the time when it was not endued with this admi∣rable Gift of Christian Patience.

Gi.

You shall hear. I called every other Moment upon our Landlord's Son-in-law▪ who lay upon the same Floor with my self; Ho I Monsieur, said I, do ye make no Dining here at Bourdeaux? For the Lord's sake, Sir, said he, stay a little, my Father will be

here in a minute. Finding not the least motion towards Dinner, and my Guts very mutinous, hark you Friend, cry'd I, will you starve us here? The courteous Gentleman begg'd my pardon once more, and desired an Hour longer, or some such trifle. Being unable any longer to bear the cursed Clamor which my Bowels made, I bawl'd out a∣gain as loud as my Lungs wou'd give me leave, the Devil's in this Family I think, what must we be all famished? When the Monsieur found that he had no more Excuses to make, he went down to the Servants and ordered them to lay the Cloath; all this while no Master of the House came, and Dinner seem'd to be as far off as ever; so the Son-in-law wearied with the Complaints I perpetually rattled in his Ears, went to the Apartment where his Wife, and Mother, and Children were, and desired them to give Orders for Dinner.

Ia.

Well, now I expect to hear how your Entertainment was served in.

Gil.

Pray ben't so hasty. At last a lame ill favoured Fellow, such as they paint Vulcan, lay'd the Napkins upon the Table, for that it seems was his Province. This was the first step made towards Dinner, and about an hour after, two glass Bottles fill'd with Water were brought into the Room, but not till I had made my self as hoarse as a More-field Organ with calling to them.

Ia.

Here's another step I see towards Dinner.

Gil.

Don't be so hasty I tell you. At a considerable di∣stance of time, but not without a world of knocking, and bawling, and quarelling, a Bottle of the above∣mention'd Wine, but as thick as Dishwater, was set upon the side-board.

Ia.

That's well, however.

Gil.

But not a jot of Bread came along with it, tho there was no great danger we shou'd touch it; for one of

Col.

Walker's Starvelings in London derry

wou'd have refused such Stuff. We bawl'd and roar'd again, till we had almost split our Wind-pipes, and at last the Bread appeared, but so rock•• and hard, that I wou'd defie the strongest Bear in Muscovy to break it asunder with his Iaws.

Ia.

Well, but now there was no danger of starving, which is a blessing you know?

Gil.

Late in the afternoon our Worshipful Landlord came home, and generally with this unlucky pretence that his Belly aked.

Ia.

Why, what the Plague was that to you, or any one else?

Gil.

Only this much that then we went fasting to Bed; for who cou'd have the Ill Manners to think of eating, when the Master of the House was out of order.

Ia.

But was he really sick?

Gil.

So very sick, that he wou'd have devoured ye a rump of Beef and a couple of Capons if you wou'd have Treated him.

Ia.

Well, Now, Sir, if you please to let me know your Bill of Fare.

Gil.

In the first place, there was served in a little Plateful of Gray-pease, which the Women there cry about the Streets, and sell to ordinary People; and this Regale was for the old Gentleman's own eating. He pretended that this was his Remedy against all Diseases.

Ia.

How many were there of you that sat down to Table?

Gil.

Sometimes eight or nine, among whom was Monsieur Baudin, a lear∣ned Gentleman, to whose Character I suppose you are no stranger, and our Landlord's eldest Son.

Ia.

And what had they set before them to eat?

Gil.

What? why, the same that Melchisedeck offer'd to Abraham, after he had Conquer'd the five Kings. And was not that enough in conscience for any reasonable Man?

Ia.

But had you no Meat at all.

Gil.

Yes, but very little, God knows. I remember that once nine of us sate down to Dinner, but may I pass another Winter

there, if we had any thing else but seven small Lettice-leaves, swimming most daintily in Vinegar, but not a jot of Oyl to bear them company.

Ia.

Well, but did old Pinch-gut devour all his Gray-pease by himself?

Gil.

You must know, he bought but a Farthings worth of them; however, he did not absolutely forbid those that sat next him to tast them; but it looked somewhat Clownish, or worse to rob a sick Man of his Victuals.

Ia.

But were not your Lettice-leaves split with great dex∣terity to make the greater show.

Gil.

Why, truly no, that I must needs say; and when those that sate at the upper end of the Table had eaten these Leaves, the rest of the Guests sopp'd their Bread in the Vinegar, and eat it in their own Defence.

Ia.

And what I pray came after these seven Lettice-leaves.

Gil.

A very merry Question Ifaith. What came after? Why, what but the constant Epilogue of all Dinners, the Cheese.

Ia.

Pardon my Curiosity, but was this your dai∣ly Fare?

Gil.

Generally speaking it was, but now and then when the old Gentleman had the good Luck to over-reach any one in the way of Trade, he wou'd be a little more open hearted.

Ia.

I long to know how he Entertained you then.

Gil.

Upon such an occasion he wou'd so far play the Prodigal, as to lay ye out a whole Penny, with which he wou'd order three fresh Bunches of Grapes to be bought. On such an extravagant gaudy Day as this, the Family was like to run out of their Wits.

Ia.

And had but too much Reason for't, by what I perceive.

Gil.

We were regall'd in this manner never but when Grapes were dog cheap.

Ia.

So then I find he never treated you but in the Au∣tumn.

Gil.

Yes, hang him, he did. You have Fishermen there that take ye a world of Cockles,

and chiefly out of the Common-Shores, which they Cry about the Streets. In this precious Commo∣dity he wou'd sometimes out of his great Generosity lay out an Half-penny. You'd have sworn then that we had a Wedding Feast in the Family: There was a Fire made in the Kitchin, tho' not very great, for these Cockles you must understand are boyl'd in a minute. This rare Dish came always after the Cheese, and serv'd instead of a Desert.

Ja.

A most extraordinary Desert upon my word. Well but had you never any Flesh or Fish to keep your Stomachs in play?

Gil.

At last the Old Gentleman, wearied and overcome with the Re∣proaches I made him, began to be somewhat more splendid in his Eating. Now when he de∣sign'd to play the Epicure in good earnest, the Bill of Fare was as follows.

Ja.

I shall imagine my self now at Lockets, or the Blew Posts in the Hay-Market.

Gil.

Imprimis, We had a Dish of Soop season'd with the following Spices. They took you a large Kettle of Water and set it over the Fire; into it they flung several pieces of Skimm'd-Milk Cheese, but as hard as Iron. In short, there was no hewing of it without a good Hatchet. At last these venerable Fragments of Cheese wou'd be∣gin to grow a little better natured, by Virtue of the Fire beneath, and then they discoloured the abovemention'd Water so prettily, that a Man cou'd not positively say 'twas meer Element. Now, Sir, this Soop was brought in as a preparative for the Stomach.

Ja.

Soop do ye call it; 'twas only fit for the Hogs.

Gil.

When this was taken away, we had in the next place a small dimunitive Dish of Tripe, that was boyled at least fifteen days be∣fore.

Ja.

Surely then it stunk most egregiously.

Gil.

It did so; but we had a trick to help that.

Ja.

Prithee what was it?

Gil.

I am afraid you'll use it your self, if I tell you.

Ja.

Ay marry, Sir, there's great danger of that.

Gil.

They wou'd put ye an Egg or two into warm Water and beat them well together, then they daubed the Tripe over with this Liquor. By this means your Eyes were cheated, but 'twas impossible to cheat your Nose, for the stink, I warrant ye, wou'd force its way through a Stone Wall. If it happen'd to be a Fish day, we had sometimes three Whitings, and those the smallest the Market afforded, tho there were seven or eight of us at Table.

Ia.

But you had something else I suppose?

Gil.

Nothing but that confounded Cheese I told you of, as hard as an Usurers Conscience. An Ostrich that makes nothing to Breakfast upon Iron cou'd ne∣ver digest it.

Ja.

Well, Monsieur le Maigre is the oddest Epicure I ever heard of; but prethee an∣swer me one Civil Question: How a God's Name cou'd such slender Provision be enough for so many Guests of you, especially since you had no Break∣fast to blunt the edge of your Stomachs?

Gil.

Nay Sir, I shall increase your wonder when I tell you that the remainders of our Dinner fed the Mother-in-lay, and the Daughter-in-law, the youngest Son, a Servant maid, and a Litter of Children.

Ja.

You have indeed; 'tis now a greater Riddle to me than before.

Gil.

'Tis impossible for me to explain this difficulty to you, until I first represent to you in what Order we sat at Table.

Ja.

Let me beg that favour of you then.

Gil.

Our Land∣lord sat at the upper end, and my Worship on the right hand of him; his Son-in-law Monsieur Peu directly overagainst our Landlord; Monsieur Bau∣din sat next to Monsieur Peu, and one Constantine a Grecian next to him: But I forgot to tell you, that

our Landlord's Eldest Son, the Heir apparent of the Family, sat on his Father's left hand. If any Stranger came to Dine with us, he was placed ac∣cording to his Quality. As for the Soop, there was no great danger of its being eaten up; but you must know that in the Plates of those wor∣thy Gentlemen, who had the honour of being chiefly in our Landlord's good Graces, a few lit∣tle Bits of the damn'd Cheese above-mentioned floated up and down, and looked like the Maldivy Islands in a Map of the East-Indies. This exe∣crable Hog-wash was encompassed with some four or five Bottles that held Wine and Water, which form'd a sort of a Barricado, so that no body cou'd reach his Spoon to it, except the Three before whom the Dish stood, unless he had a mind to be very Impudent indeed, and Scale the Walls of the Garrison: However this Dish did not stay there long, but was soon taken away that something might be left for the Family.

Ja.

How did the rest em∣ploy themselves all this while, I pray?

Gil.

Why, they regaled themselves after the old delicious manner; they soak'd their Bread, which as I told you before, was half Wheat and half Chalk, in that sowr thick nasty Wine, and so fed upon't.

Ja.

Your Dinner certainly used to be over in a minute.

Gil.

You are mistaken, it held above an hour.

Ja.

I can't imagine how that cou'd be.

Gil.

After the Servants had taken away the Soop, which you may remember was none of the most temp∣ting fare, the Cheese was set upon the Table, which run no great risque of being much demo∣lished, for it defyed the sharpest Knife that ever appeared at the keenest Ordinary. Every Man's Portion of Bread and Wine stood before him still, and over these Dantios we were at leisure to Chat,

and tell Stories, and divert our selves; in the mean time the Women Dined.

Ja.

But how did the Servants fare after all?

Gil.

They had nothing in Common with us, but Dined and Supt at their own Hours: But this I must tell you, that take the whole day, they did not spend above half an hour at their Victuals.

Ja.

I desire once more to know how they were served?

Gil.

You need not give me that trouble, but may easily guess.

Ja.

Your Germans now think an Hour too little to Breakfast in; they take the same time gene∣rally at their Beaver; an hour and half at least goes at Dinner, and at least two hours at Supper; Then unless their Bellies are well fill'd with the best Wine, and Flesh and Fish of all sorts, they imme∣diately discard their Masters, and run to the Ar∣my.

Gil.

Every Nation has its peculiar Genius and way of Living. The Italians bestow but ve∣ry little upon their Bellies; they wou'd rather you shou'd give them a piece of Money than the best Entertainment, and this Frugality or Tempe∣rance they rather owe to Nature than Custome.

Ja.

Well, now I don't wonder that you are come Home so Lean, but rather how you cou'd make a shift to keep Body and Soul together so long, since to my knowledge you were so used to Capons, and Patridges, and Pigeons, and Pheasants, with a long Et Cetera too tedious to be mentioned.

Gil.

Why Troth I had very fairly trooped off, if I had not bethought my self of due Remedies.

Ja.

The World went very ill with you for certain, when you were forced to Bettress it with these Remedies as you call them.

Gil.

I brought matters about so, that I had the fourth part of a boyled Pullet allow'd me every meal, to keep up my languishing Spirits.

Ja.

Ay marry, now you be∣gin

to live.

Gil.

Not altogether so well as you imagine. Old Gripe bought the Pullets himself, but they were the least he cou'd lay his Hands on, to save Expences. I dare engage that six of them wou'd not serve a Polander of a tolerable Stomach to make his breakfast on; and when he had bought them he wou'd not give them the least corn, because forsooth he wou'd not put himself to extraordinary Charges. Thus a Wing or a Leg of the poor Fowl▪ that was half starved before they put it into the Pot, fell to my share, and the Liver always went to Monsieur Peu's little Son. As for the Broth they made of it, the Women perpetually lapp'd it up, and every other minute wou'd put you fresh Water into the Pot, to make this precious Pottage hold out the longer. Now when it was perfectly boil'd to Rags, and as dry as a Chip, a Leg of it or so came to your humble Servant. The Broth was nothing in the world but Water bewitched, if it de∣served so good a Name.

Ia.

And yet People tell me that you have all sorts of Fowl there in great Plenty and Perfection, and exceeding cheap.

Gil.

'Tis even so, but Mony is harder to come by.

Ia.

You have done Pennance enough one wou'd think, tho' you have knocked the old Gentleman at the Vatican in the Head, or untruss'd a Point upon S. Peter's Tomb.

Gil.

But hear the rest of the Farce out. You know there are five days in e∣very Week, on which 'tis lawful to eat Flesh.

Ia.

Well, and what of that?

Gil.

So our Landlord made two Pullets last the whole Week; for on Thursday he wou'd pretend that he forgot to go to Market, least he should be obliged to spend a whole Pullet on that day, or least any of it should be left to the Servants.

Ia.

By what I perceive, your Landlord was ten times a greater Miser than Enelio

in Plantus. But on Fish days what course did ye take I wonder to keep your self alive?

Gil.

I em∣ploy'd a certain Friend of mine to buy me three Eggs every morning with my own Mony; two for Dinner, and one for Supper. But here the Women play'd the Devil with me; for instead of new laid Eggs, (and I'm sure I paid as if they had been such) they wou'd give me rotten ones, such as were only fit to be levell'd at a Pillory: So that I thought my self very kindly and courteously dealt with indeed; if one of my three Eggs proved eatable. I likewise bought me some Flasks of good Wine for my own drinking, but those everlasting Harpyes the Women broke up my Cellar door, and in a few days did not leave me a drop; neither was our most incom∣parable Landlord much displeas'd at the Matter.

Ia.

But did none of the Family take pitty of your sad Condition?

Gil.

Take pitty, say you? No, they call'd me Glutton and Cormorant, and rave∣nous Monster that wou'd certainly bring a Famine into their Country. Upon this Head that accom∣plished Gentleman, Monsieur Peu wou'd frequent∣ly give me good Advice; he soberly and gravely counselled me to consider the Place where I lived, and to have some regard to my Health in so tick∣lish a Climate, giving me the Names of several of my Country-men, who had either died Martyrs to their own Gluttony, or contracted very dangerous Distempers by it. When notwithstanding these wholsome Admonitions, which he daily pour'd into my Ears, he found me an incorrigible Reprobate to my Guts, and ever now and then propping my Lean, Sickly, feeble Carcass with some foolish Trifles that were to be had at the Confectioners, made of the Kernels of Pine-apples, Melons, and such worthy Stuff; when I say he found me

so intirely abandon'd to the Interest of my Belly, and so prodigally pampering my self, he got a cer∣tain Physician, with whom he knew I was acquain∣ted, to perswade me to a more Temperate course of Life, and be less indulgent to my self in Diet. The Doctor, to give him his due, performed his part notably, and inculcated these pious Precepts to me every morning. I soon perceiv'd, that he was set on to do it, and suited my Answers accor∣dingly. At last finding him perpetually to harp upon this String, so that his Company grew nause∣ous and troublesome; Worthy Doctor, said I to him, Pray answer me one civil Question, do ye speak this in jest or in earnest? Oh in earnest, replied he, well then, continued I, what wou'd you have me do? Why, to leave off Suppers for good and all, said he, and to mix at least one half Water with your Wine. I cou'd not forbear laughing at this extraordinary Advice; so said I to him, Doctor, if 'tis your Will and Pleasure to see me decently laid in a Church-yard, you take an infallible course to bring it about; for I'm sure it wou'd be present death to me, in the present Circumstances of this poor dispirited Body, to leave off Suppers; and I am so confident of this Truth, that I am loath to make the Experiment. What do you think wou'd become of me, if after such scurvy Dinners as we have here, I shou'd go Supperless to Bed? And then to bid me mingle Water with such weak instiped Wine, pray con∣sider, is it not infinitely better to drink clear Water as it comes from the Fountain, than to debauch it with such wretched sowr stuff. I don't question but that Monsieur Peu (a Plague take him for't) order'd you to give me this ghostly Advice; for indeed 'tis fitter for one of Glanvill's, or Mr. Aubry's Spectres, then for Flesh and Blood to follow. At this the Doctor smiled inspite of his affected Gravity, and was

pleased to allow me better Terms than before. Worthy Sir, cried he, I did not say this to you with an intention that you should totally leave off Sup∣per; you may eat an Egg and drink a Glass of Wine, for this is my own manner of living. I have an Egg boiled me for my Supper, one half of the Yolk I eat myself, and I give my Son the other half, then I drink half a Glass of Wine, and by Virtue of this Refreshment, I make a shift to study till late in the Night.

Ia.

But did not this Physi∣cian put the Doctor upon you, as the saying is? Do you think this Account he gave of himself was true?

Gil.

Ay, most certainly. As I was once coming home from Church, a Gentleman that bore me Company, pointing to a certain House, told me the Doctor lived there. Upon this I had a cu∣riosity to visit his Quarters; so I knocked at the Door, and in I came. I remember it was a Sunday of all the Days of the Year, and I surprized the Doctor with his Son, and a Servant at Dinner. The Bill of Fare was a couple of Eggs, and the Devil a jot of any thing else.

Ia.

Why, surely these People were scarce able to crawl. They wou'd have made most excellent Ghosts for a Play, I war∣rant you.

Gil.

Far from that, they were both plump and in good liking, their Eyes brisk and live∣ly, and their Cheeks fresh coloured and ruddy.

Ia.

'Tis wonderful strange, I can scarce bring my self to believe it.

Gil.

Nothing is truer I can assure you. The Doctor is not the only Person that lives thus, but several others, Men of Bulk and Substance in the World. Take my word for't, much eating and much drinking is a matter of Custome rather than Nature. If a Man uses himself to a spare Diet, he may e'en carry it as far as he pleases, and be the Reverse of Milo, who, as History tells us, came

from eating a Calf to devour a whole Ox at a sitting.

Ia.

Good Heavens! if 'tis possible for a Man to preserve his Health with so little Nou∣rishment, I can't but think what a prodigious Expence the English, the Germans, the Danes and Polanders squander away upon their Bellies.

Gil.

No doubt on't but they might save half in half in their Kitchins, which now they foo∣lishly consume to the apparent Prejudice of their Healths, as well as Vnderstandings.

Ia.

But why then Noble Sir, cou'd not you content your self with this Philosophical Fare.

Gil.

I had ac∣customed my self all along to several Dishes, and it was too late to alter my way of living then. Tho' to tell you the truth, I was ra∣ther Scandalized at the Quality, than at the quanti∣ty of their Victuals. Two Eggs wou'd have served me very well for Supper, if they had been fresh laid; and half a pint of Wine wou'd have been enough in all conscience, if it had not been as thick as Mustard, and as sowr as Vinegar. To conclude, one quarter of the Bread wou'd have been as much as I cou'd compass, if they had not given me Chalk in∣stead of Bread.

Ia.

Lord! that your Landlord Monsieur le Maigre shou'd be such a sordid Wretch amidst so prodigious a Wealth?

Gil.

I speak within compass, when I tell you that he was worth fourscore thousand Ducats the least Penny, and never a year pass'd over his head that he did not get a thousand Pounds clear in the way of Merchandize. I speak the least.

Ia.

And did those hopeful young Sparks, to whom he design'd all these Riches, use the same Par∣simony.

Gil.

They did, but it was only at home. When they were got abroad, they Eat, and

Drank, and Whored and Gamed most plentiful∣ly; and while their penurious old Dad thought it much to spend one single Six-pence at his House, to Treat the best Relations and Friends he had in the whole world, these prodigal Rakchells wou'd make you nothing to loose fore∣score broad Pieces in a night at Play.

Ia.

This is the usual Fate of your great Estates that are gotten with Griping and Oppression. What is got over the Devil's Back, we say, is spent under his Belly.—But if I may be so bold as to ask you one Question, now you have scaped this enchanted Country, where are you steering your Course?

Gil.

Why, to a parcel of Iol∣ly Companions at the Rummer in Queen∣street, to see if I can make my self amends there, for all the Hardships I have suffer'd a∣broad.