No More Learning

_ Ay, so it is.

_Eu. _ But why is it not Spring with you too?

_Ca. _ What do you mean?

_Eu. _ Because you look a little dull.

_Ca. _ Why, don't I look as I use to do?

_Eu. _ Shall I show you how you look?

_Ca. _ With all my Heart.

_Eu. _ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night?

_Ca. _ Yes, I do see it: And what then?

_Eu. _ Why, just so you look.

_Ca. _ A very fine Comparison.

_Eu. _ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here.
What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so?

_Ca. _ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you.

_Eu. _ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful
myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep
one too!

_Ca. _ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not
tell it.

_Eu. _ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my
own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you
are safe.

_Ca. _ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the
better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good.

_Eu. _ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself,
perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation.

_Ca. _ I can't speak it out.

_Eu. _ What is the Matter? Do you hate me?

_Ca. _ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that
my Heart won't let me divulge it.

_Eu. _ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me
your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out.

_Ca. _ Well then, I do give you my Word.

_Eu. _ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want
of being compleatly happy.

_Ca. _ I would I were so.

_Eu. _ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you
are now in your seventeenth Year.

_Ca. _ That's true.

_Eu. _ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of
your Trouble.

_Ca. _ Nothing less, I assure you.

_Eu. _ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of
God.

_Ca. _ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain.

_Eu. _ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you
to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper.

_Ca. _ Nothing of that, I thank God.

_Eu. _ And besides, your Credit is fair.

_Ca. _ I trust it is.

_Eu. _ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the
Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in
order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences.

_Ca. _ If I have, I thank God for it.

_Eu. _ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met
with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither.

_Ca. _ I wish they were such as they should be.

_Eu. _ Some People are uneasy at the Meanness of their Extraction, but
your Parents are both of them well descended, and virtuous, of plentiful
Fortunes, and very kind to you.

_Ca. _ I have nothing to complain of upon that Account.

_Eu. _ What Need of many Words? Of all the young Women in the Country you
are the Person I would chuse for a Wife, if I were in Condition to
pretend to't.

_Ca. _ And I would chuse none but you for a Husband, if I were dispos'd
to marry.

_Eu. _ It must needs be some extraordinary Matter that troubles your Mind
so.

_Ca. _ It is no light Matter, you may depend upon it.

_Eu. _ You won't take it ill I hope if I guess at it.

_Ca. _ I have promis'd you I won't.

_Eu. _ I know by Experience what a Torment Love is. Come, confess now, is
that it? You promis'd to tell me.

_Ca. _ There's Love in the Case, but not that Sort of Love that you
imagine.

_Eu. _ What Sort of Love is it that you mean?

_Ca. _ Guess.

_Eu. _ I have guess'd all the Guesses I can guess; but I'm resolv'd I'll
never let go this Hand till I have gotten it out of you.

_Ca. _ How violent you are.

_Eu. _ Whatever your Care is, repose it in my Breast.

_Ca. _ Since you are so urgent, I will tell you. From my very Infancy I
have had a very strong Inclination.

_Eu. _ To what, I beseech you?

_Ca. _ To put myself into a Cloyster.

_Eu. _ What, to be a Nun?

_Ca. _ Yes.

_Eu. _ Ho! I find I was out in my Notion; to leave a Shoulder of Mutton
for a Sheep's Head.

_Ca. _ What's that you say, _Eubulus_?

_Eu. _ Nothing, my Dear, I did but cough. But, go on, tell me it out.

_Ca. _ This was my Inclination; but my Parents were violently set against
it.

_Eu. _ I hear ye.

_Ca. _ On the other Hand, I strove by Intreaties, fair Words, and Tears,
to overcome that pious Aversion of my Parents.

_Eu. _ O strange!

_Ca. _ At Length when they saw I persisted in Intreaties, Prayers, and
Tears, they promis'd me that if I continu'd in the same Mind till I was
seventeen Years of Age, they would leave me to my own Liberty: The Time
is now come, I continue still in the same Mind, and they go from their
Words. This is that which troubles my Mind. I have told you my
Distemper, do you be my Physician, and cure me, if you can.

_Eu. _ In the first Place, my sweet Creature, I would advise you to
moderate your Affections; and if you can't do all you would, do all that
you can.

_Ca. _ It will certainly be the Death of me, if I han't my Desire.

_Eu. _ What was it that gave the first Rise to this fatal Resolution?

_Ca. _ Formerly, when I was a little Girl, they carried me into one of
those Cloysters of Virgins, carry'd me all about it, and shew'd me the
whole College. I was mightily taken with the Virgins, they look'd so
charming pretty, just like Angels; the Chapels were so neat, and smelt
so sweet, the Gardens look'd so delicately well order'd, that in short
which Way soever I turn'd my Eye every Thing seem'd delightful. And then
I had the prettiest Discourse with the Nuns. And I found two or three
that had been my Play-Fellows when I was a Child, and I have had a
strange Passion for that Sort of Life ever since.

_Eu. _ I have no Dislike to the Nunneries themselves, though the same
Thing can never agree with all Persons: But considering your Genius, as
far as I can gather from your Complexion and Manners, I should rather
advise you to an agreeable Husband, and set up a College in your own
House, of which he should be the Abbot and you the Abbess.

_Ca. _ I will rather die than quit my Resolution of Virginity.

_Eu. _ Nay, it is indeed an admirable Thing to be a pure Virgin, but you
may keep yourself so without running yourself into a Cloyster, from
which you never can come out. You may keep your Maidenhead at Home with
your Parents.

_Ca. _ Yes, I may, but it is not so safe there.

_Eu. _ Much safer truly in my Judgment there, than with those brawny,
swill-belly'd Monks. They are no Capons, I'll assure you, whatever you
may think of them. They are call'd Fathers, and they commonly make good
their Calling to the very Letter. Time was when Maids liv'd no where
honester than at home with their Parents, when the only spiritual Father
they had was the Bishop. But, prithee, tell me, what Cloyster hast thou
made Choice of among 'em all, to be a Slave in?

_Ca. _ The _Chrysertian_.

_Eu. _ Oh! I know it, it is a little Way from your Father's House.

_Ca. _ You're right.

_Eu. _ I am very well acquainted with the whole Gang. A sweet Fellowship
to renounce Father and Mother, Friends, and a worthy Family for! For the
Patriarch himself, what with Age, Wine, and a certain natural
Drowsiness, has been mop'd this many a Day, he can't now relish any
Thing but Wine; and he has two Companions, _John_ and _Jodocus_, that
match him to a Hair. And as for _John_, indeed I can't say he is an ill
Man, for he has nothing at all of a Man about him but his Beard, not a
Grain of Learning in him, and not much more common Prudence. And
_Jodocus_ he's so arrant a Sot, that if he were not ty'd up to the Habit
of his Order, he would walk the Streets in a Fool's Cap with Ears and
Bells at it.

_Ca. _ Truly they seem to me to be very good Men.

_Eu. _ But, my _Kitty_, I know 'em better than you do. They will do good
Offices perhaps between you and your Parents, that they may gain a
Proselyte.

_Ca. Jodocus_ is very civil to me.

_Eu. _ A great Favour indeed. But suppose 'em good and learned Men to
Day, you'll find 'em the contrary perhaps to Morrow; and let them be
what they will then, you must bear with them.

_Ca. _ I am troubled to see so many Entertainments at my Father's House,
and marry'd Folks are so given to talk smutty; I'm put to't sometimes
when Men come to kiss me, and you know one can't well deny a Kiss.

_Eu.
_ He that would avoid every Thing that offends him, must go out of
the World; we must accustom our Ears to hear every Thing, but let
nothing enter the Mind but what is good. I suppose your Parents allow
you a Chamber to yourself.

_Ca. _ Yes, they do.

_Eu. _ Then you may retire thither, if you find the Company grow
troublesome; and while they are drinking and joking, you may entertain
yourself with Christ your Spouse, praying, singing, and giving Thanks:
Your Father's House will not defile you, and you will make it the more
pure.

_Ca. _ But it is a great Deal safer to be in Virgins Company.

_Eu. _ I do not disapprove of a chaste Society: Yet I would not have you
delude yourself with false Imaginations. When once you come to be
throughly acquainted there, and see Things nearer Hand, perhaps Things
won't look with so good a Face as they did once. They are not all
Virgins that wear Vails; believe me.

_Ca. _ Good Words, I beseech you.

_Eu. _ Those are good Words that are true Words. I never read of but one
Virgin that was a Mother, _i. e. _ the Virgin _Mary_, unless the Eulogy we
appropriate to the Virgin be transferr'd to a great many to be call'd
Virgins after Childbearing.

_Ca. _ I abhor the Thoughts on't.

_Eu. _ Nay, and more than that, those Maids, I'll assure you, do more
than becomes Maids to do.

_Ca. _ Ay! why so, pray?

_Eu. _ Because there are more among 'em that imitate _Sappho_ in Manners,
than are like her in Wit.

_Ca. _ I don't very well understand you.

_Eu. _ My dear _Kitty_, I therefore speak in Cypher that you may not
understand me.

_Ca. _ But my Mind runs strangely upon this Course of Life, and I have a
strong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hath
continu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger and
stronger.

_Eu. _ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes me
suspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined your
Parents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affection
from the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles of
the Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, the
external Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of the
senseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they may
tipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful,
and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they know
he'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or else
they'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing without
your Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God would
have inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were a
religious Matter.

_Ca. _ In this Matter it is Piety to contemn Father and Mother.

_Eu. _ It is, I grant, sometimes a Piece of Piety to contemn Father or
Mother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not act
piously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who had
nothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, and
leave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ by
Baptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you would
indeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; or
if your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalous
Thing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what is
this to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have the
Dictates of Nature, the Approbation of Heaven, the Exhortation of St.
_Paul_, and the Obligation of human Laws, for your Obedience to Parents;
and will you now withdraw yourself from under the Authority of good and
natural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father,
rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of your
true Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents?
For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you be
at Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd
[_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition of
Servants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarily
a Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measure
cast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscure
Foot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out under
pretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed in
many Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then all
that you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of the
Door, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'd
her Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they change
the Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves in
old Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name that
was given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or
_Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, and
being to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If a
military Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he not
look'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him that
takes upon him a Habit that Christ the Master of us all never gave him?
He is punish'd more severely for the changing it again, than if he had a
hundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which is
the Innocency of his Mind.

_Ca. _ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into this
voluntary Confinement.

_Eu. _ That is a pharisaical Doctrine. St. _Paul_ teacheth us otherwise,
_and will not have him that is called free, make himself a Servant, but
rather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitude
the worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonly
Fools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, being
every now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, do
any Laws discharge you from your Duty to your Parents?

_Ca. _ No.

_Eu. _ Can you buy or sell an Estate against your Parents Consent?

_Ca. _ No, I can't.

_Eu. _ What Right have you then to give away yourself to I know not whom,
against your Parents Consent? Are you not their Child, the dearest and
most appropriate Part of their Possession?

_Ca. _ In the Business of Religion, the Laws of Nature give Place.

_Eu. _ The great Point of our Religion lies in our Baptism: But the
Matter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such a
Course of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And now
consider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose,
together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, or
sing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as you
please. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hear
Anthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virgin
remarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see any
Man that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn what
will make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and you
may chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you
come into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatest
Assistances in the Promotion of true Piety, you lose at once.

_Ca. _ But in the mean Time I shall not be a Nun.

_Eu. _ What signifies the Name? Consider the Thing itself. They make
their boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in being
obedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God has
commanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, when
all is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times were
in an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberality
towards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they had
possessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for living
with your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? A
Vail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, which
of themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make no
Body more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purity
of the Mind.

_Ca. _ This is News to me.

_Eu. _ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from the
Government of your Parents, can't dispose of, or sell so much as a Rag,
or an Inch of Ground, what Right can you pretend to for disposing of
yourself into the Service of a Stranger?

_Ca. _ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child
from entering into a religious Life.

_Eu. _ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism?

_Ca. _ Yes.

_Eu. _ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of
Christ?

_Ca. _ They are so.

_Eu. _ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the
Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the
Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that
never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their
Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a
Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and
against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase
it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither
according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine
of _Christ_ or his Apostles.

_Ca. _ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without
my Parents Consent?

_Eu. _ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is
the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only
about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is
to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to
it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else.

_Ca. _ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest
Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents.

_Eu. _ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the
holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this,
bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they
can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents
to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it
too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I
pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to
Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents,
as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself.

_Ca. _ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life?

_Eu. _ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it,
that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of
it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially
those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly
into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the
rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out
of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at
Home.

_Ca. _ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet
this Affection of mine can't be removed.

_Eu. _ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could,
however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand.
In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations
may succeed better than my Counsel.




_The PENITENT VIRGIN. _


The ARGUMENT.

_A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself,
goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the
Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten
unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd
Apparitions and Visions_.


EUBULUS, CATHERINE.

_Eu. _ I could always wish to have such a Porter.

_Ca. _ And I to have such Visitors.

_Eu. _ But fare you well, _Kitty_.

_Ca. _ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute?

_Eu. _ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as
soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes?

_Ca. _ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better
Looks, and we'll be merry together.

_Eu. _ What Sort of Cattle have we got here?

_Ca. _ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had
their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is
gone, we will discourse as we use to do.

_Eu. _ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you
would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I
would fain have it from your Mouth.

_Ca. _ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to
be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than
you, that are the youngest of 'em all.

_Eu. _ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last?

_Ca. _ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and
then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought
over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by
several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like
one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in
their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let
Christ have his Spouse.

_Eu. _ O the Villany of Fools! But what then?

_Ca. _ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time
there were always with me some Women of the College that they call
_Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution,
and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come
at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making
ready, and the Provision for the Feast.

_Eu. _ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet?

_Ca. _ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had
rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again.

_Eu. _ What was that, pray?

_Ca. _ It is not to be uttered.

_Eu. _ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend.

_Ca. _ Will you keep Counsel?

_Eu. _ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better
than to doubt of it.

_Ca. _ I had a most dreadful Apparition.

_Eu. _ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this.

_Ca.