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with Joy and Gladness in thy holy Spirit, that we may be found
acceptable in thy Sight, and may not be made asham'd, when thou shalt
render to every one according to his Works_.

Boy. _Amen_.

_Ti._ In Truth, it is a pious and elegant Hymn.

_Eu._ Of St. _Chrysostom_'s Translation too.

_Ti._ Where is it to be found?

_Eu._ In his 56th Homily on St. _Matthew_.

_Ti._ I'll be sure to read it to Day: But I have a Mind to be informed
of one Thing, why we thrice wish Glory to Christ under these three
Denominations, of _Lord, Holy, and King_.

_Eu._ Because all Honour is due to him, and especially in these three
Respects. We call him Lord, because he hath redeem'd us by his holy
Blood from the Tyranny of the Devil, and hath taken us to himself.
Secondly, We stile him Holy, because he being the Sanctifier of all Men,
not being content alone to have freely pardoned us all our Sins _gratis_
by his holy Spirit, hath bestow'd upon us his Righteousness, that we
might follow Holiness. Lastly, We call him King, because we hope for the
Reward of a heavenly Kingdom, from him who sits at the Right-Hand of God
the Father. And all this Felicity we owe to his gratuitous Bounty, that
we have _Jesus Christ_ for our Lord, rather than the Devil to be a
Tyrant over us; that we have Innocence and Sanctity, instead of the
Filth and Uncleanness of our Sins; and instead of the Torments of Hell,
the Joys of Life everlasting.

_Ti._ Indeed it is a very pious Sentence.

_Eu._ This is your first Visit, Gentlemen, and I must not dismiss you
without Presents; but plain ones, such as your Entertainment has been.
Boy, bring out the Presents: It is all one to me, whether you will draw
Lots, or every one chuse for himself, they are all of a Price; that is
to say, of no Value. You will not find _Heliogabatus_'s Lottery, a
hundred Horses for one, and as many Flies for another. Here are four
little Books, two Dials, a Lamp, and a Pen-Case: These I suppose will be
more agreeable to you than Balsams, Dentrifices, or Looking-Glasses.

_Ti._ They are all so good, that it is a hard Matter to chuse; but do
you distribute them according to your own Mind, and they'll come the
welcomer where they fall.

_Eu._ This little Book contains _Solomon_'s Proverbs in Parchment, it
teaches Wisdom, and it is gilded, because Gold is a Symbol of Wisdom.
This shall be given to our grey-headed _Timothy_; that according to the
Doctrine of the Gospel, to him that has Wisdom, Wisdom shall be given
and abound.

_Ti._ I will be sure to make it my Study, to stand in less Need of it.

_Eu. Sophronius_, this Dial will suit you very well, whom I know to be
so good a Husband of your Time, that you won't let a Moment of that
precious Thing be lost. It came out of the furthest Part of _Dalmatia_,
and that's all the Commendation I shall give it.

_Sophr._ You indeed admonish a Sluggard to be diligent.

_Eu._ You have in this little Book the Gospel written on Vellum; it
deserv'd to be set with Diamonds, except that the Heart of a Man were a
fitter Repository for it. Lay it up there, _Theophilus_, that you may be
more and more like to your Name.

_The._ I will do my Endeavour, that you may not think your Present ill
bestow'd.

_Eu._ There are St. _Paul_'s Epistles; your constant Companions,
_Eulalius_, are in this Book; you use to have _Paul_ constantly in your
Mouth, and he would not be there, if he were not in your Heart too: And
now for the Time to come, you may more conveniently have him in your
Hand, and in your Eye. This is a Gift with good Counsel into the
Bargain. And there is no Present more precious than good Counsel.

_Eu._ This Lamp is very fit for _Chrysoglottus_, who is an insatiable
Reader; and as M. _Tully_ says, a Glutton of Books.

_Ch._ I give you double Thanks; first, for so choice a Present, and in
the next Place, for admonishing a drowsy Person of Vigilance.

_Eu. Theodidactus_ must have this Pen-Case, who writes much, and to
excellent Purposes; and I dare pronounce these Pens to be happy, by
which the Honour of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ shall be celebrated, and
that by such an Artist.

_The._ I would you could as well have supply'd me with Abilities, as you
have with Instruments.

_Eu._ This contains some of the choicest of _Plutarch's_ Books of
Morals, and very fairly written by one very well skill'd in the _Greek_;
I find in them so much Purity of Thought, that it is my Amazement, how
such evangelical Notions should come into the Heart of a Heathen. This I
will present to young _Uranius_, that is a Lover of the _Greek_
Language. Here is one Dial left, and that falls to our _Nephalius_, as a
thrifty Dispenser of his Time.

_Neph._ We give you Thanks, not only for your Presents, but your
Compliments too. For this is not so much a making of Presents, as
Panegyricks.

_Eu._ I give you double Thanks, Gentlemen: First for taking these small
Matters in so good Part; and secondly, for the Comfort I have receiv'd
by your learned and pious Discourses. What Effect my Entertainment may
have upon you I know not; but this I am sure of, you'll leave me wiser
and better for it. I know you take no Pleasure in Fiddles or Fools, and
much less in Dice: Wherefore, if you please, we will pass away an Hour
in seeing the rest of the Curiosities of my little Palace.

_Ti._ That's the very Thing we were about to desire of you.

_Eu._ There is no Need of entreating a Man of his Word. I believe you
have seen enough of this Summer Hall. It looks three Ways, you see; and
which Way soever you turn your Eye, you have a most delicate Green
before you. If we please, we can keep out the Air or Rain, by putting
down the Sashes, if either of them be troublesome; and if the Sun is
incommodious, we have thick folding Shutters on the out-Side, and thin
ones within, to prevent that. When I dine here, I seem to dine in my
Garden, not in my House, for the very Walls have their Greens and their
Flowers intermix'd; and 'tis no ill Painting neither. Here's our Saviour
celebrating his last Supper with his elect Disciples. Here's _Herod_ a
keeping his Birth-Day with a bloody Banquet. Here's _Dives_, mention'd
in the Gospel, in the Height of his Luxury, by and by sinking into Hell.
And here is _Lazarus_, driven away from his Doors, by and by to be
receiv'd into _Abraham's_ Bosom.

_Ti._ We don't very well know this Story.

_Eu._ It is _Cleopatra_ contending with _Anthony_, which should be most
luxurious; she has drunk down the first Pearl, and now reaches forth her
Hand for the other. Here is the Battel of the _Centaurs_; and here
_Alexander_ the Great thrusts his Launce through the Body of _Clytus_.
These Examples preach Sobriety to us at Table, and deter a Man from
Gluttony and Excess. Now let us go into my Library, it is not furnish'd
with very many Books, but those I have, are very good ones.

_Ti._ This Place carries a Sort of Divinity in it, every Thing is so
shining.

_Eu._ You have now before you my chiefest Treasure: You see nothing at
the Table but Glass and Tin, and I have in my whole House but one Piece
of Plate, and that is a gilt Cup, which I preserve very carefully for
the Sake of him that gave it me. This hanging Globe gives you a Prospect
of the whole World. And here upon the Wall, are the several Regions of
it describ'd more at large. Upon those other Walls, you have the
Pictures of the most eminent Authors: There would be no End of Painting
them all. In the first Place, here is _Christ_ sitting on the Mount, and
stretching forth his Hand over his Head; the Father sends a Voice,
saying, _Hear ye him_: the Holy Ghost, with outstretch'd Wings, and in a
Glory, embracing him.

_Ti._ As God shall bless me, a Piece of Work worthy of _Apelles_.

_Eu._ Adjoining to the Library, there is a little Study, but a very neat
one; and 'tis but removing a Picture, and there is a Chimney behind it,
if the Cold be troublesome. In Summer-Time it passes for solid Wall.

_Ti._ Every Thing here looks like Jewels; and here's a wonderful pretty
Scent.

_Eu._ Above all Things, I love to have my House neat and sweet, and both
these may be with little Cost. My Library has a little Gallery that
looks into the Garden, and there is a Chapel adjoining to it.

_Ti._ The Place itself deserves a Deity.

_Eu._ Let us go now to those three Walks above the other that you have
seen, that look into the Kitchen Garden. These upper Walks have a
Prospect into both Gardens; but only by Windows with Shutters;
especially, in the Walls that have no Prospect into the inner Garden,
and that's for the Safety of the House. Here upon the Left-Hand, because
there is more Light, and fewer Windows, is painted the whole Life of
_Jesus_, out of the History of the four Evangelists, as far as to the
Mission of the Holy Ghost, and the first Preaching of the Apostles out
of the Acts; and there are Notes upon the Places, that the Spectator may
see near what Lake, or upon what Mountain such or such a Thing was done.
There are also Titles to every Story, with an Abstract of the Contents,
as that of our Saviour, _I will, Be thou clean_. Over against it you
have the Types and Prophecies of the Old Testament; especially, out of
the Prophets and Psalms, which are little else but the Life of Christ
and Apostles related another Way. Here I sometimes walk, discoursing
with myself, and meditating upon the unspeakable Counsel of God, in
giving his Son for the Redemption of Mankind. Sometimes my Wife bears me
Company, or sometimes a Friend that takes Delight in pious Things.

_Ti._ Who could be tired with this House?

_Eu._ No Body that has learn'd to live by himself. Upon the upper Border
(as though not fit to be among the rest) are all the Popes Heads with
their Titles, and over against them the Heads of the _Cæsars_, for the
better taking in the Order of History. At each Corner, there is a
Lodging Room, where I can repose myself, and have a Prospect of my
Orchard, and my little Birds. Here, in the farthest Nook of the Meadow,
is a little Banquetting House; there I sup sometimes in Summer, and I
make Use of it, as an Infirmary, if any of my Family be taken ill, with
any infectious Disease.

_Ti._ Some People are of Opinion, that those Diseases are not to be
avoided.

_Eu._ Why then do Men shun a Pit or Poison? Or do they fear this the
less, because they don't see it? No more is the Poison seen, that a
Basilisk darts from his Eyes. When Necessity calls for it, I would not
stick to venture my Life: But to do it without any Necessity, is
Rashness. There are some other Things worth your seeing; but my Wife
shall shew you them: Stay here this three Days if you please, and make
my House your Home; entertain your Eyes and your Minds, I have a little
Business abroad: I must ride out to some of the Neighbouring Towns.

_Ti._ What, a Money Business?

_Eu._ I would not leave such Friends for the Sake of receiving a little
Money.

_Ti._ Perhaps you have appointed a hunting Match.

_Eu._ It is a Kind of Hunting indeed, but it is something else I hunt,
than either Boars or Stags.

_Ti._ What is it then?

_Eu._ I'll tell you: I have a Friend in one Town lies dangerously ill;
the Physician fears his Life, but I am afraid of his Soul: For I don't
think he's so well prepar'd for his End as a Christian should be: I'll
go and give him some pious Admonitions that he may be the better for,
whether he lives or dies. In another Town there are two Men bitterly at
odds, they are no ill Men neither, but Men of a very obstinate Temper.
If the Matter should rise to a greater Height, I am afraid it would be
of ill Consequence to more than themselves: I will do all I can in the
World, to reconcile them; they are both my Kinsmen. This is my hunting
Match, and if I shall have good Success in it, we'll drink their
Healths.

_Ti._ A very pious Hunting, indeed; we pray heartily, that not _Delia_
but _Christ_ would give you good Success.

_Eu._ I had rather obtain this Prey, than have two thousand Ducats left
me for a Legacy.

_Ti._ Will you come back quickly?

_Eu._ Not till I have try'd every Thing; therefore, I can't set a Time.
In the mean Time, be as free with any Thing of mine, as though it were
your own, and enjoy yourselves.

_Ti._ God be with you, forward and backward.




_The APOTHEOSIS of CAPNIO._


The ARGUMENT.

_Canonizing, or entring the incomparable Man_, John
Reuclin, _into the Number of the Saints, teaches how much
Honour is due to famous Men, who have by their Industry
improv'd the liberal Sciences_.


None that has liv'd Well, dies Ill.

POMPILIUS, BRASSICANUS.

_Po._ Where have you been, with your Spatter-Lashes?

_Br._ At _Tubinga_.

_Po._ Is there no News there?

_Br._ I can't but admire, that the World should run so strangely a
gadding after News. I heard a _Camel_ preach at _Lovain_, that we should
have nothing to do with any Thing that is new.

_Po._ Indeed, it is a Conceit fit for a Camel. That Man, (if he be a
Man,) ought never to change his old Shoes, or his Shirt, and always to
feed upon stale Eggs, and drink nothing but sour Wine.

_Br._ But for all this, you must know, the good Man does not love old
Things so well, but that he had rather have his Porridge fresh than
stale.

_Po._ No more of the Camel; but prithee tell me, what News have you?

_Br._ Nay, I have News in my Budget too; but News which he says is
naught.

_Po._ But that which is new, will be old in Time. Now if all old Things
be good, and all new Things be bad, then it follows of Consequence,
that that which is good at present, has been bad heretofore, and that
which is now bad, will in Time come to be good.

_Br._ According to the Doctrine of the Camel, it must be so; and
therefore, hence it follows, that he that was a young wicked Fool in
Time past, because he was new, will come to be a good One, because he is
grown old.

Po. But prithee, let's have the News, be it what it will.

_Br._ The famous triple-tongu'd Phoenix of Learning, _John Reuclin_, is
departed this Life.

_Po._ For certain?

_Br._ Nay, it is too certain.

_Po._ Why, pray, what Harm is that, for a Man to leave an immortal
Memory of a good Name and Reputation behind him, and to pass out of this
miserable World, into the Society of the Blessed?

_Br._ How do you know that to be the Case?

_Po._ It is plain, for he can't die otherwise, who has liv'd as he did.

_Br._ You would say so, indeed, if you knew what I know.

_Po._ What's that, I pray?

_Br._ No, no, I must not tell you.

_Po._ Why so?

_Br._ Because he that entrusted me with the Secret, made me promise
Silence.

_Po._ Do you entrust me with it upon the same Condition, and, upon my
honest Word, I'll keep Counsel.

_Br._ That honest Word has often deceived me; but however, I'll venture;
especially, it being a Matter of that Kind, that it is fit all honest
Men should know it. There is at _Tubinge_, a certain _Franciscan_, a Man
accounted of singular Holiness in every Bodies Opinion but his own.

_Po._ That you mention, is the greatest Argument in the World of true
Piety.

_Br._ If I should tell you his Name, you'd say as much, for you know the
Man.

_Po._ What if I shall guess at him?

_Br._ Do, if you will.

_Po._ Hold your Ear then.

_Br._ What needs that, when here's no Body within Hearing?

_Po._ But however, for Fashion Sake.

_Br._ 'Tis the very same.

_Po._ He is a Man of undoubted Credit. If he says a Thing, it is to me,
as true as the Gospel.

_Br._ Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked Truth of the Story. My
Friend _Reuclin_ was sick, indeed very dangerously; but yet, there was
some Hopes of his Recovery; he was a Man worthy never to grow old, be
sick, or die. One Morning I went to visit my Franciscan, that he might
ease my Mind of my Trouble by his Discourse. For when my Friend was
sick, I was sick too, for I lov'd him as my own Father.

_Po._ Phoo! There's no Body but lov'd him, except he were a very bad Man
indeed.

_Br._ My Franciscan says to me, _Brassicanus_, leave off grieving, our
_Reuclin_ is well. What, said I, Is he well all on a sudden then? For
but two Days ago, the Doctors gave but little Hopes of him. Then, says
he, he is so well recover'd, that he will never be sick again. Don't
weep, says he, (for he saw the Tears standing in my Eyes) before you
have heard the Matter out. I have not indeed seen the Man this six Days,
but I pray for him constantly every Day that goes over my Head. This
Morning after Mattins, I laid myself upon my Couch, and fell into a
gentle pleasant Slumber.

_Po._ My Mind presages some joyful Thing.

_Br._ You have no bad Guess with you. Methought, says he, I was standing
by a little Bridge, that leads into a wonderful pleasant Meadow; the
emerald Verdure of the Grass and Leaves affording such a charming
Prospect; the infinite Beauty, and Variety of the Flowers, like little
Stars, were so delightful, and every Thing so fragrant, that all the
Fields on this Side the River, by which that blessed Field was divided
from the rest, seem'd neither to grow, nor to be green; but look'd dead,
blasted, and withered. And in the Interim, while I was wholly taken up
with the Prospect, _Reuclin_, as good Luck would have it, came by; and
as he past by, gave me his Blessing in _Hebrew_. He was gotten half Way
over the Bridge before I perceived him, and as I was about to run to
him, he look'd back, and bid me keep off. You must not come yet, says
he, but five Years hence, you shall follow me. In the mean Time, do you
stand by a Spectator, and a Witness of what is done. Here I put in a
Word, says I, was _Reuclin_ naked, or had he Cloaths on; was he alone,
or had he Company? He had, says he, but one Garment, and that was a very
white one; you would have said, it had been a Damask, of a wonderful
shining White, and a very pretty Boy with Wings followed him, which I
took to be his good Genius.

_Po._ But had he no evil Genius with him?

_Br._ Yes, the Franciscan told me he thought he had. For there followed
him a great Way off, some Birds, that were all over Black, except, that
when they spread their Wings, they seem'd to have Feathers, of a Mixture
of White and Carnation. He said, that by their Colour and Cry, one might
have taken them for Magpies, but that they were sixteen Times as big;
about the size of Vultures, having Combs upon their Heads, with crooked
Beaks and Gorbellies. If there had been but three of them, one would
have taken them for Harpyes.

_Po._ And what did these Devils attempt to do?

_Br._ They kept at a Distance, chattering and squalling at the Hero
_Reuclin_, and were ready to set upon him, if they durst.

_Po._ What hindred them?

_Br._ Turning upon them, and making the Sign of the Cross with his Hand
at them, he said, _Be gone, ye cursed Fiends to a Place that's fitter
for you. You have Work enough to do among Mortals, your Madness has no
Power over me, that am now lifted in the Roll of Immortality._ The
Words were no sooner out of his Mouth, says the Franciscan, but these
filthy Birds took their Flight, but left such a Stink behind them, that
a House of Office would have seem'd Oyl of sweet Marjoram, or Ointment
of Spikenard to it. He swore, he had rather go to Hell, than snuff up
such a Perfume again.

_Po._ A Curse upon these Pests.

_Br._ But, hear what the Franciscan told me besides: While I was intent
upon these Things, says he, St. _Jerome_ was come close to the Bridge,
and saluted _Reuclin_ in these Words, _God save thee, my most holy
Companion, I am ordered to conduct thee to the Mansions of the blessed
Souls above, which the divine Bounty has appointed thee as a Reward for
thy most pious Labours._ With that he took out a Garment, and put it
upon _Reuclin_. Then, said I, tell me in what Habit or Form St. _Jerome_
appear'd, was he so old as they paint him? Did he wear a Cowl or a Hat,
or the Garb of a Cardinal? Or had he a Lion by his Side? Nothing of all
these, said he; but his Person was comely, which made his Age appear
such as carried in it much Comeliness, but no Deformity. What Need had
he to have a Lion by his Side, as he is commonly painted? His Gown came
down to his Heels, as transparent as Crystal, and of the same Fashion of
that he gave to _Reuclin_. It was all over painted with Tongues of three
several Colours; some imitated Rubies, some Emeralds, and others
Sapphires; and beside the Clearness of it, the Order set it off very
much.

_Po._ An Intimation, I suppose, of the three Tongues that he profess'd.

_Br._ Without doubt: For he said, that upon the very Borders of the
Garments were the Characters of these three Languages inscrib'd in their
different Colours.

_Po._ Had _Jerome_ no Company with him?

_Br._ No Company, do you say? The whole Field swarm'd with Myriads of
Angels, that fill'd the Air as thick, as those little Corpuscles they
call Atoms, fly in the Sun Beams; pardon the Meanness of the Comparison.
If they had not been as transparent as Glass, there would have been no
Heaven nor Earth to have been seen.

_Po._ O brave, I am glad with all my Heart, for _Reuclin_'s, Sake; but
what follow'd?

_Br. Jerome_, (says he) for Honour's Sake, giving _Reuclin_ the
Right-Hand, and embracing him, conducts him into the Meadow, and up a
Hill that was in the middle of it, where they kiss'd and embrac'd one
another again: In the mean Time, the Heavens open'd over their Heads to
a prodigious Wideness, and there appear'd a Glory so unutterable, as
made every Thing else, that pass'd for wonderful before, to look mean
and sordid.

_Po._ Can't you give us some Representation of it?

Br. No, how should I, that did not see it? He who did see it, says, that
he was not able to express the very Dream of it. He said, he would die a
thousand Deaths to see it over again, if it were but for one Moment.

_Po._ How then?

_Br._ Out of this Overture of the Heavens, there was let down a great
Pillar of Fire that was transparent, and of a very pleasant Form: By
this the two holy Souls were carried into Heaven, in one anothers
Embraces; a Choir of Angels all the While accompanying them, with so
charming a Melody, that the Franciscan says, he is never able to think
of the Delight of it without weeping. And after this there follow'd a
wonderful fragrant Smell. When he waked out of his Dream, if you will
call it a Dream, he was just like a mad Man. He would not believe he was
in his Cell; he called for his Bridge and his Meadow; he could not speak
or think of any Thing else but them. The Seniors of the Convent, when
they found the Story to be no Fable, for it is certain that _Reuclin_
dy'd at the very Instant that the holy Man had this Vision, they
unanimously gave Thanks to God, that abundantly rewards good Men for
their good Deeds.

_Po._ What have we to do, but to set down this holy Man's Name in the
Calendar of Saints?

_Br._ I should have done that if the Franciscan had seen nothing at all
of this, and in Gold Letters too, I'll assure you, next to St. _Jerome_
himself.

_Po._ And let me die if I don't put him down in my Book so too.

_Br._ And besides that, I'll set him in Gold in my little Chapel, among
the choicest of my Saints.

_Po._ And if I had a Fortune to my Mind, I'd have him in Diamonds.

_Br._ He shall stand in my Library, the very next to St. _Jerome_.

_Po._ And I'll have him in mine too.

_Br._ If they were grateful, every one who loves Learning and Languages,
especially, the holy Tongues, would do so too.

_Po._ Truly it is no more than he deserves. But han't you some Scruple
upon your Mind, in as much as he is not yet canoniz'd by the Authority
of the Bishop of _Rome_?

_Br._ Why, pray, who canoniz'd (for that's the Word) St. _Jerome_? Who
canoniz'd St. _Paul_, or the Virgin _Mary_? Pray tell me whose Memory is
most sacred among all good Men? Those that by their eminent Piety, and
the Monuments of their Learning and good Life, have entitled themselves
to the Veneration of all Men; or _Catherine_ of _Sien_, that was sainted
by _Pius_ the Second, in favour of the Order and the City?

_Po._ You say true: That's the right Worship, that by the Will of
Heaven, is paid to the Merits of the Dead, whose Benefits are always
sensibly felt.

_Br._ And can you then deplore the Death of this Man? If long Life be a
Blessing, he enjoyed it. He has left behind him immortal Monuments of
his Vertue, and by his good Works, consecrated his Name to Immortality.
He is now in Heaven, out of the Reach of Misfortunes, conversing with
St. _Jerome_ himself.

_Po._ But he suffer'd a great Deal tho' in his Life.



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