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• The Religious Pilgrimage.
• ΙΧΘϒΟΦΑΓΙΑ.
• The Funeral.
• Echo.
• ΠΟΛϒΔΑΙΤΙΑ, Or, the Unequal Feast.
• Of Things and Words.
• Charon.
• The Assembly of Grammarians.
• ΑΓΑΜΟΣ ΓΑΜΟΣ, Or, the Unequal Marriage.
• The Imposture.
• Cyclops, Or the Gospel-carrier.
• ΑΠΡοΣΔΙοΝϒΣΑ the Impertinents, Or Crosspurposes.
• The False Knight: Or, ΙΠΠΕϒΣ ΑΝΙΠΠΟΣ·
• ΑΣΤΡΑΓΑΛΙΣΜΟΣ.
• ΓϒΝΑΙΚΟΣϒΝΕΔΡΙΟΝ. the Assembly Or Parliament of Women.
• Diluculum: Or, the Early Rising.
• ΝΗΦΑΛΙοΝ ΣϒΜΠοΣΙοΝ. the Sober Feast.
• The Notable Art.
• The Sermon, Or Merdardus.
• The Lover of Glory.
• Opulentia Sordida, Or the Wealthy Miser.
• The Seraphick Funeral.
• Amicitia, Or Friendship.
• Problema.
• The Epicurean.
• The Conflict Between Thalia and Barbarism.
• Des. Erasmus of Rotterdam to the Reader,: Concerning the Profitableness of Colloquies.
• Erasmus of Rotterdam, of the Method of Study, to Christianus of Lubeck.

The CONFLICT between THALIA and BARBARISM.

THALIA and her Companions, CALLIOPE and MELPOMENE; BARBARISM and her Companions.

THA.

O Good God! what Sort of Monster is that which I see rising out of the Ground yonder? I beseech you look upon it.

Cal.

O admirable! what a vast Body it has, the Top of its Head reaches almost up to the Stars. In Truth, I can’t tell what it is.

Tha.

It’s coming nearer to me. A new Sort of a Composition, do you see it? It has a Face like a Virgin; from the Breast downwards it is like an Ass.

Cal.

It is so, as I hope to be sav’d. But, Madam, do you observe what monstrous Horns grow out of the Forehead of it?

Tha.

They are huge ones indeed. But do you take Notice what Ears there are by the Horns?

Cal.

I do mind them, they are like Asses Ears, and they are whitish, and full of Motion; and I perceive it approaches nearer and nearer, but I can’t tell what is in the Mind of it to do. Alas! I am in Pain, lest it has some Mischief in its Head.

Tha.

May God our Father prevent it.

Mel.

If my Memory don’t fail me, I have some Knowledge of this Monster.

Tha.

Prithee tell us what it is.

Mel.

There is no Danger in it.

Tha.

But I am cruelly afraid it is an Enemy to us; is it, or not?

Mel.

It is; this is our only and most cruel Adversary.

Tha.

God confound it.

Mel.

It never ceases envying and assaulting us: They say it has its Residence in the Western Climates, there it brings all Things under its Yoke, is worshipp’d, lov’d and honour’d. What Need is there of a great many Words? In short, it expects to be appeas’d with suppliant Presents like a Goddess.

Tha.

If I mistake not, I have heard so. But what’s the Name of the City where she reigns?

Mel.

Why, ’tis Zwoll, I think.

Tha.

Very right, that’s it.

Mel.

Her Name is Barbarism.

Tha.

It is she, in Truth, I know her very well; but see, she is coming hither a great Pace; let us halt till she comes up.

Bar.

Companions, is this Thalia herself that I see hard by? Why I thought she had been dead long enough ago: It is certainly she, I espy her Laurel; she is come to Life again, and has the Impudence presumptuously to come into my Presence, without any Fear of me: I’ll advance up to her, and make her know who I am. A Mischief take you, you impudent Jade.

Tha.

You salute me very roughly: Pray, forsooth, take that to yourself that you wish to me.

Bar.

Why, Thalia, are not you, that have been routed so long ago, asham’d to come into my Presence?

Tha.

Do you ask me such a Question? you are not worthy to lay your Eyes upon me; and it is beneath me to cast my Eyes upon such a nasty Beast as you are.

Bar.

Hey day! What, a poor beggarly Wretch to dare to affront me! What, don’t you know me better than that comes to? Take Care you don’t provoke me.

Tha.

A Fart for your Menaces, I don’t mind ’em, nor no Body else: Should I be afraid of you, you nasty Wretch?

Bar.

Take Care whom you throw your Reflections upon.

Tha.

You may thank your Companions there for your Grandeur.

Bar.

What, these?

Tha.

Yes, them, and none but them.

Bar.

What am I indebted to them for? Pray tell me.

Tha.

It is their Opinion of you, or rather their Error, that has rais’d you to the Pitch of a Goddess, and not your noble Birth.

Bar.

But (if Time would permit) I could authentically derive my Pedigree from the Divinity itself.

Tha.

A rare Pedigree, I’ll warrant you! Pray let’s have it, there’s Time enough; and no Doubt but the Sun will stand still while you are telling such strange Stories.

Bar.

You make a mighty bragging of your being Jupiter’s Daughter, and triumph in Apollo’s being your Conductor. My Father was one who would not knock under to him, either for Valour, Archery, or Musick. When at any Time he had a Mind to divert himself with singing, like Orpheus, he made the very Woods and Mountains dance after his Musick; and as for Racing, he would outstrip even the East Wind itself.

Tha.

I have heard these Stories a thousand Times over.

What have you to say to that? Do you take me in?

Tha.

When you first started up in the World, you pretended Chiron was half Man.

Bar.

It’s like your Manners to break in upon me, before I’ve said what I was about; han’t you Patience to hold your Tongue, till I have said what I had to say?

Tha.

I have if you’ll keep to the Truth. But if I do hold my Tongue, I shan’t mind you much.

Bar.

What, do you make a Liar of me too?

Tha.

No; but if you take it upon yourself, it really belongs to you.

Bar.

Do you speak the Truth when you say I was Chiron’s Daughter?

Tha.

Why, here are Witnesses of it.

Bar.

Where are they, pray?

Tha.

Why this great Tail that hangs down to your Heels is one, and these Bristles on your Back, and these whitish Ears on your Head, all these plainly shew you are one of Chiron’s Offspring; he begat you upon an Ass; a very fine Pedigree to brag of!

Bar.

I see you set yourself to be as abusive as you can. You make a mighty to do about Shape; but let us come to Virtue, argue about that, about Fame, and Glory, and Adorers: What signifies the Body?

Tha.

No great Matter indeed, saving that a deformed Mind usually accompanies a deformed Body. But come on, we’ll come to those Things.

Bar.

Take this in the first Place; there are but few that adore you, the whole World adores me; you being hardly known by any Body, lie incognito; I have extended my Name all over the World, I am well known and famous every where.

Tha.

I own that.

Bar.

You would not own it, if you had any Thing to say against it.

Tha.

Yes, I have something to say against it: You knew Cacus?

Who does not know Cacus?

Tha.

That Cacus whom Virgil speaks of.

Bar.

I knew him.

Tha.

I believe you did, for he was a famous Fellow; and as he was famous, just so are you. And then again, whereas you take it to your Praise, that the World follows you, I interpret it rather to your Dishonour; for every Thing that is scarce, is valuable. There is nothing valuable that is common to the Vulgar. Altho’ my Admirers are but few, yet they are Persons of Figure and Gravity. But pray what great Reputation is it to you, that you are admir’d by the ignorant Mobility?

Bar.

Silly Wench! the Thing is quite different; for I don’t leave those Persons unlearned, that I find so; but I rather improve them and instruct them, and make them Persons of Learning and Gravity.

Tha.

Ha, ha, ha, loaded with Books, but not with Science.

Bar.

You’re a poor Scrub, and I am as well able to make my Followers learned as you are yours.

Tha.

Yes, like yourself; for being barbarous yourself, you make Barbarians of them too: What can you do else?

Bar.

Now I find by Experience, the Character is true that I heard of you long ago, that you are a prating, impertinent Baggage. Leave off, Simpleton, you know nothing at all; this I am sure of, that if you knew but half I know, you would not have the Impudence to talk at this Rate. In my Academy at Zwoll, what Glory, Discipline and Improvement is there! If I should but begin to enumerate, you’d burst with Envy.

Tha.

Yes, forsooth; and so I believe you’d make the very Post and Pillars burst with your braggadochia talking: But however, begin and burst me if you can.

Bar.

’Tis too long.

Tha.

Well, make short on’t then, you know how.

Bar.

Well then, I’ll speak in brief as to what I was saying before: No Body is able to number the great Confluence of Students that flock from all Parts of the spacious World to that famous School.

Tha.

Phoo; what, does that great Ass at Zwoll (I mean the great Bell of the School) bray so loud, as to call them together in Crowds?

Bar.

Sillyton, forbear railing, and hear what’s said to you.

Tha.

I hear.

Bar.

They are there instructed, and render’d learn’d in a Trice.

Tha.

Wonderfully learned, indeed!

Bar.

In the best Glosses, Vocabularies, Arguments, and innumerable other notable Matters.

Tha.

That’s rightly spoken.

Bar.

What do you grin at? I improve them to that Degree, that there is nothing they are ignorant of.

Tha.

Ay, of nothing that’s Novelty.

Bar.

As they grow in Stature, so they do in Experience; and being become perfect Masters, they are made Instructors of others: Then I discharge them, that they may live happily, and die blessedly.

Tha.

Ha, ha, ha; I envy them so much, I can hardly forbear bursting my Sides with laughing.

Bar.

Fool, what do you laugh at? Do you think what I say deserves to be laugh’d at?

Tha.

I can give you a better Account of the Matter.

Bar.

What, you?

Tha.

Yes, I; and if you please you shall hear it too.

Bar.

Well, begin then.

Tha.

As to the Number of your followers, I grant it; and if they have learnt any Thing right in Schools before, they must be forc’d to unlearn it again: And then, as to those Dispensations (of which you have reckon’d up a great many) they are not so much instructed, as confounded by them, till at last they know nothing at all: You improve them till they don’t know so much as themselves. Their Horns grow on their Foreheads, and then they seem very cunning Fellows, and are more fit to rule than be ruled. And at last you send them away in a Condition to live merrily, and die blessedly.

Bar.

I find you can’t keep your Tongue from railing; but have a Care you don’t raise my Indignation. If you don’t forbear throwing your Squibs at me, I’ll throw them at you again; I have something to hit you in the Teeth of.

Tha.

And nothing but Slanders.

Bar.

You poor Wretch you, I say I send them back such (whether you know it, or no) that they won’t strike Sail to your Poets for Versification (that is the chief Thing you have to boast of.)

Tha.

For Number, I confess; but we don’t so much regard the Number of Verses, as the Goodness of them. But you, on the contrary, only take Notice of the Number, and not the Goodness; you count the Pages, but pass by the Barbarisms that are in them. So they do but hang together, that’s the only Thing that you regard, it’s no Matter for the Goodness of them.

Bar.

You senseless Creature, you make a mighty to do about Goodness; I don’t think any Thing is so empty of Goodness as your Poems; for what are they but gilded Lies, full of old Womens Tales?

Tha.

You commend them sufficiently.

Bar.

I commend such ridiculous Stuff?

Tha.

You commend, and don’t know you do it.

Bar.

What, such lying ones; I rather ridicule them than praise them.

Tha.

You praise them against your Will.

Bar.

How so?

Tha.

While thou enviously railest at them; for the Way to displease those that are bad is to commend them.

Bar.

Great and elaborate Lies that any Body may envy.

Tha.

You shew your Ignorance as plainly as the Sun at Noon-Day. Unhappy Wretch, you are not sensible how much you commend the Industry of those Poets by your foolish Talking, who think it unfit to cast Roses before Swine in Mire and Dirt; and therefore they wrap up and hide the Truth in ambiguous Words and enigmatical Expressions; that tho’ all may read them, yet all may not understand them. They read them, and go away as ignorant as if they never had seen them. A Man of Learning reads them, and searches into the Meaning of the Words (for they are transparent) and finds that under them is couch’d a vast Treasure of wholesome Truth, that the other pass’d over unobserv’d.

Bar.

Very fine, very fine; a comical Piece of Roguery, to mingle Truth and Falsehood together! to corrupt Truth with feigned Fables! Is this that you give such great Encomiums of?

Tha.

Shall I give you an Answer to this in a few Words? But first answer me this; pray, which do you look upon to be the best, to pick up Jewels out of Dung, or to admire them set in Gold.

Bar.

The last is the best.

Tha.

You mean to yourself, and so it is. As for you, if there is any Truth in a Poem, you obscure it so with trifling Words, that it rather makes it look dim, than gives it a Lustre. On the contrary we (not as you reproachfully say) don’t corrupt the Truth by an Elegancy of Words; but we put a Lustre upon it, as when a Jewel is set in Gold. We don’t take the Lustre from it, but add to it; we don’t make it more dark, but shine the brighter. And last of all, this we do, we labour that that Truth, which is of its own Nature profitable, be made more grateful by Industry. As for your Partizans, they being ignorant of these Things, reproach, carp at, and are envious at them. If they were wise, how much more would they cry me up — I have stopt your Mouth now; I’ll break this Silence.

Bar.

I might have said that more justly of your Partizans.

Tha.

I have broken it.

Bar.

Those that don’t understand our Poetry, don’t know how to do any Thing, but to laugh and scoff.

Tha.

They are such, that if a Man understands them, he will be never the wiser; and if he does not, he will know never the less.

Bar.

There is no Need of a great many Words, the Thing proves itself.

Tha.

The Thing prove itself! I should be glad to see that.

Bar.

I mean those Persons, which the Knowledge of Things has render’d famous.

Tha.

Is there any one such Person?

Bar.

Yes, without Number.

Tha.

That’s well said, as if no Body could number them; for no Body can number that which is but one, and not that neither: However, you may begin, tho’ you should not be able to go thro’ with it.

Bar.

In the first, and chief Place, Florista, that took his Name from Flowers.

Tha.

But not sweet-smelling ones.

Bar.

Then here’s Papias.

Tha.

A very learned Man, indeed! you ought to have named him first.

Bar.

Then here’s Huguito.

Tha.

A very famous Man!

Bar.

And Michael Modista.

Tha.

An excellent one!

Bar.

Then here’s James Glosarius.

Tha.

A wonderful Man!

Bar.

And him that I esteem above them all, John de Garlandia, who excels in such an Elegancy of Words, and such a Majesty of Style, that there are but very few that can understand him.

Tha.

Nay, no Body at all, unless they are Barbarians as well as he; for how can any Body easily understand him, who did not well understand himself?

Bar.

There’s no End in talking with you; you out-do me in Words, but I don’t think Victory consists in them. If you have a Mind to it, let us each of us try what we can do. Do you make Verses with me. Come, don’t stand shivering and shaking, nor shilly shally; I am ready for you; then it will appear whether of us gets the better.

Tha.

I like it very well. Come on, let us try: But, Mistress Poetess, do you begin first.

Bar.

These are Verses that I have often repeated in the Presence of very learned Men, and not without the great Admiration of all of them.

Tha.

I believe so; now begin.

Bar.

• Zwollenses tales, quod eorum Theutonicales
• Nomen per partes ubicunque probantur et artes,
• Et quasi per mundum totum sunt nota rotundum.
• Zwollensique solo proferre latinica solo
• Discunt Clericuli nimium bene verba novelli.

These Verses are a Demonstration how elegant a Poet I am.

Tha.

Ha, ha, ha; they contain as many Barbarisms, as Words: This to be sure is certainly your Father’s Speech, I mean Chiron’s; a Poem excellently compos’d; I won’t defer giving it its just Due.

• Tale sonant insulsa mihi tua carmina, vates,
• Quale sonat sylvis vox irrudentis onagri;
• Quale boat torvus pecora inter agrestia taurus,
• Qualeque testiculis gallus genitalibus orbus
• Concinit. Haud vocem humanam, sed dico ferinam.
• Hanc celebres laudate viri, et doctissime Florum
• Auctor, ades; gratos in serta nitentia flores
• Colligito, meritaeque coronam nectito Divae:
• Urticae viridi graveolentem junge cicutam.
• Talia nam tali debentur praemia vati.
• Annue, Barbaries, tuque hanc sine cornua circum
• Inter candidulas laurum tibi nectier aures.

Bar.

This makes me ready to spew; I can’t bear to hear such silly Stuff. Do I loiter away my Time here, and don’t go to Zwoll to see what my Friends are doing there?

Tha.

Make Haste, and let a Blockhead visit the Blockheads; your coming to them will be very acceptable: I see I spend my Breath upon you in vain: You will never be a Changeling. I very aptly apply’d to you that Verse of Virgil,

• Non illam nostri possunt mutare labores.
• We do but endeavour to wash a Black-moor white.

Mel.

At the beginning of this Contention, as soon as ever we espy’d this Monster, we all grew sick at the Stomach.

Tha.

I believe so, truly.

Cal.

Mistress, let us leave this beastly Creature, and betake our selves to the airy Top of Parnassus Hill, and the Heliconian Fountain.

Tha.

Let us do so.