The Colloquies of Erasmus Part 17

_Ha._ And did she take you under her Protection?

_Thr._ I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little Nod.

_Ha._ What Time was it? In the Morning?

_Thr._ No, no, 'twas after Supper.

_Ha._ And by that Time I suppose the Trees seem'd to walk too?

_Thr._ How this Man guesses every Thing! But St. _Christopher_ was the Saint I most depended on, whose Picture I had always in my Eye.

_Ha._ What in your Tent?

_Thr._ We had drawn him with Charcoal upon our Sail-cloth.

_Thr._ Then to be sure that _Christopher_ the Collier was a sure Card to trust to? But without jesting, I don't see how you can expect to be forgiven all these Villanies, unless you go to _Rome_.

_Thr._ Yes, I can, I know a shorter Way than that.

_Ha._ What Way is that?

_Thr._ I'll go to the _Dominicans_, and there I can do my Business with the Commissaries for a Trifle.

_Ha._ What, for Sacrilege?

_Thr._ Ay, if I had robb'd Christ himself, and cut off his Head afterwards, they have Pardons would reach it, and Commissions large enough to compound for it.

_Ha._ That is well indeed, if G.o.d should ratify your Composition.

_Thr._ Nay, I am rather afraid the Devil should not ratify it; G.o.d is of a forgiving Nature.

_Ha._ What Priest will you get you?

_Thr._ One that I know has but little Modesty or Honesty.

_Ha._ Like to like. And when that's over, you'll go strait away to the Communion, like a good Christian, will you not?

_Thr._ Why should I not? For after I have once discharg'd the Jakes of my Sins into his Cowl, and unburden'd myself of my Luggage, let him look to it that absolv'd me.

_Ha._ But how can you be sure that he does absolve you?

_Thr._ I know that well enough.

_Ha._ How do you know it?

_Thr._ Because he lays his Hand upon my Head and mutters over something, I don't know what.

_Ha._ What if he should give you all your Sins again when he lays his Hand upon your Head, and these should be the Words he mutters to himself? _I absolve thee from all thy good Deeds, of which I find few or none in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted Manners, and leave thee just as I found thee_.

_Thr._ Let him look to what he says, it is enough for me that I believe I am absolv'd.

_Ha._ But you run a great Hazard by that Belief, for perhaps that will not be Satisfaction to G.o.d, to whom thou art indebted.

_Thr._ Who a Mischief put you in my Way to disturb my Conscience, which was very quiet before?

_Ha._ Nay, I think it is a very happy Encounter to meet a Friend that gives good Advice.

_Thr._ I can't tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not very pleasant.

_The COMMANDS OF A MASTER._

The ARGUMENT.

_This Colloquy treats of the Commands of a Master, and the Business of a Servant, 1. The Master calls up his sleepy Servant, commands him to set the House to rights; the Servant answers again, that he speaks not a Word about Dinner, &c. 2. Of sending him on various Errands.

3. Concerning Riding_.

1. _Of calling up the Sleeper._

RABa.n.u.s, SYRUS.

_RA._ Soho, soho, Rascal, I am hoa.r.s.e a bawling to you, and you lye snoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; either get up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will you have slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepy Sot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon as it is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Master rises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Hour a scratching, and stretching, and yawning.

_Sy._ It is scarce Day yet.

_Ra._ I believe not to you; it is Midnight yet to your Eyes.

_Sy._ What do you want me to do?

_Ra._ Make the Fire burn, brush my Cap and Cloke, clean my Shoes and Galloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush them well, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweeten the Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before a clear Fire.

_Sy._ It shall be done Sir.

_Ra._ But make Haste then, all this ought to have been done before now.

_Sy._ I do make Haste Sir.

_Ra._ I see what Haste you make, you are never the forwarder, you go a Snail's Gallop.

_Sy._ Sir, I cannot do two Things at once.

_Ra._ You Scoundrel, do you speak Sentences too? Take away the Chamber-Pot, lay the Bed-Clothes to Rights, draw back the Curtains, sweep the House, sweep the Chamber-floor, fetch me some Water to wash my Hands. What are you a sliving about you Drone? You are a Year a lighting a Candle.