THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 <-? 
 r 
 
 b 
 
 CIRCE, 
 
 Tranflated from the ITALIAN of 
 
 John Baftift Gelli, 
 
 o F T H E 
 
 ACADEMY of FLORENCE. 
 
 Otii Cato reddendam Operam putat. 
 
 Prsef. Juft. Hift. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by JAMES BET TEN HAM, 
 MDCCXLIV.

 
 P<SL 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 ALLEN 
 
 Lord Bathurft. 
 
 
 MY LORD ! 
 
 TH E obfcure Merit of my 
 Author, I am perfuaded, 
 will be a fufficient Recommen- 
 A z dation 
 
 L30
 
 iv DEDICATION, 
 
 elation to your Lordfhip, who 
 has through Life (hewn, that it 
 gives a generous Mind equal 
 Pleafiire to call true Merit into 
 Light from any Difadvantages, 
 as to do it Juftice and Ho- 
 nour when fhining in its proper 
 Sphere. This proves a Heart 
 well refin'd both from Pride and 
 Envy, Paffions that too often 
 render Men entrufted with fu- 
 perior Fortunes, ufelefs or hate- 
 ful to the World and unhappy 
 in themfelves. By fuch, Men 
 of Genius muft expert to be 
 treated like the Glow-worm, 
 which though it ftrikes every 
 Obferver with Admiration, is 
 pafs'd coldly by and left to a- 
 dprn a Ditch, A happy Con,.
 
 DEDICATION, v 
 
 currence of Circumftances en- 
 gaged your Lordftiip early in 
 the ftriteft Ties of Friend- 
 ftiip with Men of that Sort of 
 Greatnefs, which Defert alone 
 can give; Men of that Caft 
 of Mind which is never fu- 
 lpeted of bafe or felfifh Views. 
 In a Word, whofe Familiarity 
 could have been purchased with 
 nothing lefs than an engag- 
 ing Difpofition, an enlarged 
 Underftanding, and a Parity of 
 Turn for Converfation. The 
 Obfervation might be fufficlently 
 juftified by your long Intimacy 
 with Dean Swift , Mr. Addifon, 
 and Biihop Atterbury^ than 
 whom none were ever more nice 
 or difmtereited in the Choice of 
 a few Friends. But
 
 vi DEDICATION. 
 
 But I can fcarce forbear ex- 
 claiming 
 
 Oh! noffes Ccen<eque Deum 
 
 When I remember to have feen 
 at your Lordfhip's Table, my 
 Lord Lanfdown^ Mr. Prior^ 
 Mr. Congreve^ Mr. Gay, Mr. 
 Fenton, and Mr. Pope^ whom 
 I referve for the laft, as Hea- 
 ven has done. Thus Virgil^ 
 in defcribing a Group of fuch 
 Mafter-Spirits, concludes with 
 his principal Figure, . 
 
 His dantem Jura Catonem. 
 
 Thefe are a Sort of Compa- 
 nions that always know their 
 Friend, and from whom He is 
 
 fure
 
 DEDICATION, vii 
 
 fure to be known and will be 
 judged of by Pofterity. 
 
 For Time who, as the Vir- 
 tuofi afliire us, foon devours the 
 frail Materials with which Folly 
 or Envy attempts to difguife 
 genuine Infcriptions, never fails 
 to prefent the Original Charac- 
 ters frefh and fair, and more 
 happily preferv'd by the very 
 Arts employed to injure them* 
 I am, 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 Tour tftoft obliged 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 H. Layng,
 
 [ viii ] 
 
 THE 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT may be expeEled^ (and I would 
 not have the Reader every way dif- 
 appointed) that I jhouldfay fomething 
 of a certain Paraphrafe^ Traducement, 
 Carricattura^ or what you pleafe^ of 
 this Book, by the late Mr. Thomas 
 Brown of facetious Memory. And I 
 can fafely fay, that if I could^ upon a 
 JlriEl and difagreeable Enquiry ', have 
 met with his Translation fooner, it 
 would have faved me the Trouble of 
 making this : a?id if I had not found 
 his at a//, it would have faved me that 
 
 of
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 of printing mine. But it appeared to 
 me fo contrary to the Charafter of a 
 Writer once in the highejt Efteem, 
 though fence almoft loft, by being con- 
 demn d by the Inquijition, that he feem- 
 ed to fuffer as wrongfully from his 
 Iranjlator as from his Judges. And 
 I mujl own it gives me a Pleafure, 
 which I hope is of the generous Kind, to 
 think that I have endeavour d to refcue 
 a worthy P erf on from bad Company that 
 had ufed him ///; and put him into a 
 Capacity of delivering his natural Senfe 
 without the exprejfive Epithets of Bil- 
 lingfgate, the /lowing Eloquence of 
 Water -Language^ or the Jlrong Meta- 
 phors of a Gin-Shop. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, Mr. Brown, for 
 he was a Wag, intended to adapt his 
 Performance to the Subjeff, by giving, 
 infteadof a Ferfton, a Metamorphojis of 
 his Author ; and like that before him 
 too by changing a Philofopher into a 
 BeaJ}. Jfjo, never was Writer more 
 happily brutalizd. And fur e that Pen 
 muft be able to work as mighty Wonders 
 
 as
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 as Circes Wand* that could convert 
 en excellent Moral convey d with all the 
 Advantages of Learning, and Purity 
 of Language, enliven d with amoft pleaf- 
 ing Fable, into a pert flat Compojition 
 cooKd up to be a Clajjic for an Ale- 
 houfe. It may be no more proper to re~ 
 fer the Reader to the whole Book, than it 
 would be polite to fend a delicate P erf on 
 to a Place that he might convince himfelf 
 of its Offenjivenefs. But a curfory Ex- 
 amination Jhewd me that in the very 
 Title-Page hemifreprefents the Intention 
 of the Author ; which he fays was to dif- 
 play the Infelicities of human Life. A 
 moft delightful and ufeful Plan truly ! 
 Whereas Gelli in the Epijlle Dedicatory 
 declares, that he propofes to /hew how 
 thofe Evils may be avoided \ which from 
 a wrong Choice Man brings upon himfelf. 
 Thefe Accounts of the Book arefo unlike, 
 that left he foould be confronted by the 
 Pages immediately following, from mere 
 Modefty, he leaves out the whole Dedi- 
 cation. If he were only to be chargd 
 with Faults of this kind) I mean, only 
 
 falfe
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 falfe or mifchievous Reprefentation^ they 
 might beeajily pointed out and anfwer d. 
 But there is an Air of Buffoonry that 
 runs almofl through the whole, to which 
 no Man can be hardy enough to reply y 
 that would not fence with Harlequin^ or 
 difpute in Syllogifm with Merry- An- 
 drew. From Page 50 to 55 there are 
 intolerable Indecencies, to which the Ori- 
 ginal gives not the leaft Countenance. 
 Page 82, i $4. monftrous : 165, 184, 
 1 86, to 190, 230, 240, 25 j, to fay 
 the heft of it all his own. From 159/0 
 1 6 1 he makes an unnatural Ex cur /ion to 
 abuje his Majefty Lewis XIV of France, 
 for no other pojjfible Reafon but becaufe 
 he dard. Starne, p. 208, which he 
 renders fiares from the Similitude of 
 Sounds -, ought to be red leg d Partridges. 
 Page 95, infufferable Buffoonry^ which 
 there is not a Word in this Author to 
 juftify. Page 78 he tells us, as a bon 
 mot, that Wealth is like a ruinous 
 Building [Scefe] which generally falls 
 in the weakeft Place. Now though this 
 Obfervation be fo very juft that I dare 
 2 fay
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 fay it will hold good^ in all kinds of 
 Architecture military and civil ; yet I 
 Jhould rather fay, that Riches like a 
 Catarrh or Defluxion, forfo the Word 
 alfo JignifieS) tend to the weakejl Part. 
 
 This little out of much^ I think fuffi- 
 cient to jhew that Gelli has been abusd^ 
 it remains to prove that he defervd bet- 
 terTreatment. Now when we would f peak 
 of the EJleem an Author was in during 
 fas Life we Jhould confider the Charac- 
 ter of the Age and Country in which 
 he livd. For as to fay that a Writer 
 was in vogue here at Court in the Days 
 of our King James the Firft^ feems to 
 carry in it more of Satire than Pane- 
 gyric : So what can be a higher Enco- 
 mium^ than to have been admird at 
 Florence in the 1 6th Century -, and un- 
 der that excellent Judge and more than 
 princely Patron of learned Men^ Cofmo 
 the Firfi ? 
 
 'This has been very juftly ftiled the 
 third Age of the World^ in which the 
 liberal Arts have been raisd to fuch 
 Perfection as to Jl and for Epochas> for 
 
 Gages
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 Gages of human Wit : like tbofe Marks 
 on the Obelijk that jhew how high the 
 Waters of the Nile have reachd y but 
 which they have never exceeded. 
 
 "The fir ft Age, which yielded fo luxu- 
 riant a Crop of Poets, Phihfophers, 
 Orators ,Hift or ians, Painters and Sculp- 
 tors is the time^ a little preceding Philip 
 ^Macedon, and laftingfomewhat after 
 Alexander the Great. 
 
 7%e fecond is bounded on one Side * by 
 Caefar and Cicero, on the other by Sue- 
 tonius and Tacitus. 
 
 The third is that ever memorable JEra 
 for Chriftendom^ when Conftantin Pale- 
 ologus was expeWd the Greek Empire by 
 Mahomet the Second. Then it was that 
 the Arts flying before an Inundation of 
 barbarous Eaftern Enthuafifts were re- 
 ceivd, carefsd) and almoft adord by the 
 Princes of the Houfe of Medici. Nor 
 was their Patronage ill beftowd^ which 
 within the Compafs of a Century gave 
 birth to the Michael Angelos, Raphaels, 
 
 * See Pieces fugitives par Voltair?. And Gia.mbullari 
 fjell' Origine della Lingua Fiorentina, altramenti il Cello. 
 
 Titians,
 
 xiv PREFACE. 
 
 Titians, Arioftos and Taffos. Leo ttf 
 'Tenth laid out the public Spirit fo pecu- 
 liar to his Family in reviving the Tafte 
 of ancient Rome ; which it mujl be ownd 
 he retrievd tofuch a Degree, that the 
 Genius of the Auguftan Agefeemd to a- 
 wake fully refrefid from a found Sleep 
 of above a thoufand Tears. 
 
 The Province left for Cofmo was to 
 correct and polijh his own native Lan- 
 guage. To effeft this he ereEted a learned 
 Society at Florence caWd the Crufca. 
 Gelli, or Gello, for he is indifferently 
 call d either ^ was Jo diftinguift? da Mem- 
 ber of that Academy that he is frequent- 
 ly called its fecond Founder. To execute 
 this Plan of their Prince^ Gelli publijh'd 
 aTreatife della LinguaTofcana, andGi- 
 ambullari, who was reckoned one of the 
 moft learned Men in Italy, * printed an- 
 other dell' Origine della Lingua Fioren- 
 tina, which) as a Teftimony of his great 
 Efteem y he entitled, II Gello. 'Thefe two 
 with the concur rent Labours of their Bre- 
 
 * Giambullari pafla pour un des plus fgavans Hommes 
 d'ltalic. See Ghilini Theat. des Homines illuft. 
 
 trhen
 
 PREFACE. x * 
 
 thren brought tie Tufcan Language to 
 fuch Perfe^ion^ that it has ever fince 
 been efteemdthe Standard Italian, and 
 all the reft are looKd upon as fo many 
 Dialetts of it. So that I think we have 
 gain V one Point for Circe,/r0#z what has 
 been f aid of its Author, that probably p , as 
 Hamlety^yj of his Play, the Original was 
 wrote in excellentltelizn. And I believe 
 it would be very difficult to find a Book, 
 that could give fo juft anldea of the State 
 of Literature of that Age a?id Country. 
 
 'The Circe wasfoon tranjlated into the 
 principal Tongues of Europe ; and has 
 the Honour of giving Birth to the * phi- 
 lofophical Idiom which was by It fir ft in- 
 troduced into the modern Languages. 
 
 His Skill in Criticifm may be collected 
 from the manyLecJures he publijhedon the 
 Poetry of Dante : As may his Knowledge 
 inphilofophicalMattersfromtheTreatifes 
 which he was prevailed upon by the urgent 
 Entreaties of Simon For tins f, to tran- 
 Jlatefor him from his Works into Italian. 
 
 * Vide Fontanini della Eloquenza Italians, p. 117. 
 f Set 1' Autheur.de la Vie des Aca^iemiciens de Florence.
 
 xvi PREFACE. 
 
 I find Gelli alfo a Writer of Repu- 
 tation in the way of Wit^ as Author of 
 two Comedies, La Sporta, and L'Errore : 
 But the Capricii del Bottaio, or Hu- 
 mours of the Cooper isfo capital a Piece 
 of Drollery ) that Monf. Duchat in his 
 Notes upon Rabelais onfome of the mojl 
 humorous Paffages, fays> that if the 
 Dates of the Publication of the two Pieces 
 would allow of it, II n'hefiteroit point a 
 croire, que Rabelais 1'auroit paraphrafe. 
 
 He alfo tranjlated) one would think, 
 tojbew the Verfatility of his Pen, the 
 Tragedy of Hecuba from Euripides: 
 and was engagd in a Work that requird 
 an intimate Acquaintance with the Latin 
 Tongue, by Paulus Jovius, who himfelf 
 was even in thofe high Times by common 
 Gonfent ftiled 
 
 Roraanae gloria Lingua?. 
 
 Now to have been diftingtiijtid by fome 
 Proofs of Approbation by the foremoft 
 Writer of the Age in which one lives > I 
 think too great an Honour, not to be 
 claim d for my Author, fince I muft 
 
 always
 
 PREFACE. xvii 
 
 a/ways efleem it the great eft that ever 
 happen d to myfelf. 
 
 This I have the more infifted on, be- 
 caufe the great Thuanus fays of Gelli 
 roundly^ that he had not the leaft fmat- 
 tering of Latin *. From whence I could 
 not but make this Reflexion upon volumi- 
 nous Writers* that if it be very pardon- 
 able when Sleep fometimes fteals upon 
 them, it is very deplorable that during 
 that Interval fo many Dreams jhould 
 iffue into Light through the Ivory Gate. 
 
 It was the more effectually to fecure 
 Gelli from this falfe Reprefentation, 
 that I have in a few Notes pointed out the 
 Paffages of the Greek and Roman Writ- 
 ers that hetranjlates or alludes to ; which 
 though they are few in comparifon of what 
 might eajily have been producd^ will, 
 with what has beenf aid Sufficiently evince 
 the great Extent and Variety of his 
 Learning. 
 
 A Writer of his Knowledges ', as well 
 as Humour ', might certainly have more 
 enliven d theFable byEpifodes^ Defer ip- 
 
 * Nullis Litteris Latinis tin&us. 
 
 a tions
 
 xviii PREFACE. 
 
 tions and Machinery ; but it required juft 
 as much ^Judgment as His to keep the 
 
 *S' O J. 
 
 Moral ftill in view. And he is contented 
 <witb only as much FiEiion as was necef- 
 fary to keep the Difcourfe fromftagnat- 
 ing into a heavy LeElure^ without being 
 too folicitous about changing the Scenes 
 or diverjifying the Characters of his 
 Speakers . But herein he follows Cicero 's 
 Advice in a Jimilar Cafe, who blames 
 Arifto, in his Treatife of Old Age found- 
 ed on the poetical Story of Tithonus, 
 for indulging too much in the fabulous 
 Part, which muft give an Air of Levity 
 very improper for the Defign. As there 
 is nothing more frequent than for inju- 
 dicious Painters in the Glare of a mere- 
 tricious Colouring to lofe the Dignity as 
 well as Simplicity of the Subjett. But 
 Gelli carries us like fome Roman Road 
 a Jhort becaufe a Jtraight Way \ on a 
 moderate Eminence that prefents us in- 
 cidentally with delightful ProfpeEis^ 
 but never leads us fro?n our Point for 
 the fake of them. 
 
 2 TO
 
 Cofiiio deMecliciDucadiTire
 
 TO THE 
 
 Moil illuftrious and excellent Prince 
 
 CO SMOde MEDICI, 
 
 Duke of FLORENCE. 
 
 F all Creatures in the Uni- 
 verfe, Man alone feems to me,, 
 mod excellent and ferene 
 Prince, to have it in his 
 Power to choofe for himfelf both his 
 prefent Condition, and his ultimate 
 End. And in purfuit of his Defign, he 
 may proceed clear of any natural Im- 
 pulfe, under the fole Influence of 
 his own Free-will. Whereas who con- 
 iiders carefully the Nature of his fel- 
 low Creatures, according to their re- 
 fpedtiye Species, will find certain Di- 
 rections conftituted under unalterable 
 Laws, by the great Author of all Things, 
 which they are not to violate in Order 
 to render their appointed Condition 
 a 2 better
 
 xx DEDICATION. 
 
 better or vvorfe. But Man is at Liber- 
 ty to make his Option of the State that 
 pleafes him beft. Proteus vvas not more 
 fufceptible of the Shape, nor the Ca- 
 meleon of the Colour that he likes to 
 affume. He may be either a grofs Ani- 
 mal or a divine Creature ; and quit any 
 old Track for what new Courfe he 
 pleafes to prefer. Hence it is plain, that 
 if he be fixed by hard Fate or a wrong 
 Judgment in fuch a Situation, as to con- 
 verfe only with- fenfible Objects, and to 
 have his Eyes fo wholly turned towards 
 them as never once to be caft up towards 
 Heaven, his Lot is little different from 
 the Beafts, or rather is not to be diftin- 
 guifhed from that of Animals quite 
 devoid of Reafon. Again, when he can 
 extricate himfelf and return to his true 
 and proper Employment ; can foar 
 from low and bafe Concerns, to fublime 
 and pure Entertainments, he arrives at 
 the Perfection of his Nature, like thofe 
 happy Spirits, who beyond the Limits' 
 of this corruptible World pafs their Ex^ 
 iftence in the Contemplation of divine 
 
 Truths.
 
 DEDICATION, xxi 
 
 Truths. This I have endeavoured to 
 demonftrate and to recommend, as it is 
 the Duty of every one, according to his 
 Abilities, in the courfe of the following 
 Dialogues, built upon the Plan of the 
 very learned Plutarch. 
 
 And as Man is naturally led to ex- 
 prefs his Adoration of the Deity, not 
 only by his Heart and Lips, but by 
 fome vifible Sign, forne Offering of the 
 beft he has : fo is it the indifpenfa- 
 ble Duty of Subjeds to pay the Tribute 
 of Honour in the beft manner they can 
 to their Prince. Who, to ufe the Lan- 
 guage of the fame Philofopher Plutarch, 
 is the exprefs Image and Reprefentative, 
 in his peculiar Diftrict, of the great uni- 
 verfal Love diffufed through the World. 
 I therefore, being both by Nature and 
 by Choice a Subject of your Serene 
 Highnefs, and being fenfible from all 
 the Motives of Gratitude under what 
 various Obligations I am to pay my 
 Devoirs, that my Inclinations may atone 
 for the Defeds of my Abilities, have 
 prefumed with all Humility to prefent 
 
 you
 
 xxii DEDICATION. 
 
 you with the following poor Compo- 
 litions. Hoping ftill, that as the fame 
 fupreme Being in all his Majefty reje&s 
 not the meaneft Offering of the hum- 
 ble and the fincere ; fo you, Sir, will 
 be pleafed to accept of this fmall Gift 
 only as the beft Thing I had to pre- 
 fent. How unworthy it will appear of 
 your Greatnefs, and how fliort of my 
 Obligations, I am but too fenfible, and 
 therefore muft conclude that I once 
 more pray you only to regard the good 
 Intentions of one that defires nothing 
 more than to ferve you, and to prove 
 himfelf, as in Duty bound, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your faithful and 
 devoted Servant ', 
 
 Dated at Florence 1^4 
 the Fir/I of March. 
 
 John BaptiftGelli.
 
 The A R G U M E N T. 
 
 UlyfTes returning to Greece from the De- 
 Jtruttion of Troy, being driven by contrary 
 Winds to many different Parts of the World > 
 arrived at length at the I/land of Circe. 
 Where being court eoujly received, he ft ay ed 
 feme Time to enjoy the Favours of the God- 
 defs. But having an invincible Dc/ire of 
 feeing once more his native Country, he 
 demanded Licence to depart j and at the 
 fame Time infijled that jhe Jhould change 
 back into Men, all the Greeks that foe had 
 transformed into divers Animals about her, 
 and give them full Liberty to return 'with 
 him to their own Homes. The E,nchantrefs 
 readily complies with his Requeft upon this 
 Condition, that he Jhould afk this Favour 
 for thofe only that dejired it themfelves ; 
 and that all the reft Jhould remain with 
 her, tojmijb their Lives under the Shape of 
 thofe EeaJIs thsy then refrefented. And that 
 
 be
 
 jjfli_- ' '" " bl 
 
 The A R G U M E N T. 
 
 & might come at their real Sentiment s t Jke 
 by art Magick rejlored to each of them the 
 fame Power of Language they enjoyed in 
 their human Form. Ulyfles traverfes the 
 whole I/land \ and frequently makes his Pro- 
 pofals, but every one for Reafons which he 
 gives peculiar to himfelf y obflinately refufes 
 to accept of the offer , and declares that he 
 will by no Means quit his prefent Condition 
 to turn Man again. At Length he meets 
 with one who, convinced of the Excellency 
 of the human Nature from the Superiority 
 the Underftanding gives it over other Ani- 
 mals > intreats to become again the Man he 
 was. Ulyfles recovers him to his prijline 
 State -, be y as 'tis natural to Man, returns 
 his Thanks to God the Author of all that's 
 great and good; and they in Tranfport fet 
 fail for Greece together.
 
 NAMES 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 SUBSCRIBERS, 
 
 I S Royal Highnefs 
 the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Her Royal Highnefs 
 the Princefs of Wales. 
 
 His Grace the Duke of Leeds. 
 
 His Grace the Duke of Portland. 
 
 The moft noble the Marquis of Hartington. 
 
 Right Hon. the Earl of Denbigh. 
 
 b Earl
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Earl of Eufton. 
 
 Earl of Halifax. 
 
 Countefs of Hartford. 
 
 Earl of Northampton. 
 
 Countefs Dowager of Pembroke. 
 
 Earl of Pomfret. 
 
 Countefs of Pomfret, three books. 
 
 Earl of Thanet. 
 
 Countefs of Thanet. 
 
 Vifcountefs of Irwyn. 
 Right Hon. Lady Ifabella Finch. 
 Lady Elizabeth Smithfon. 
 Lady Frances Courtenay. 
 Lady Margaret Herbert. 
 Lord Vifcounc Harrington . 
 Lord Vifcount Dupplin, two copies. 
 .Lord Vifcount Guernfey. 
 Lord Fielding. 
 Lord Bifhop of Glocefter. 
 Right Hon. the Lord Carteret, one of his Majefty's 
 
 principal Secretaries of State. 
 Lady Cartaret. 
 Lord Bathurft. 
 Lady Bathurft, ten books. 
 Lord Leigh. 
 Lord Lempfter. 
 Lord St. Johns of Bletfoe. 
 
 Hon. Mrs. Courtenay. 
 Hon. Mrs. Whitmed. 
 Hon. Mrs. Buller. 
 Hon. Mrs. Page. 
 Hon. Mrs. Grevil. 
 
 Hon. Mr. George Hamilton. 
 
 2 Hon r
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Bathurft. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Henry Bathurft. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Murray, Solicitor General. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Henry Bellenden. 
 
 Hon. Mrs- Herbert. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Robert Herbert. 
 
 Hon. Lady Tynte. 
 
 Hon. Lady Slcipwith. 
 
 Hon. Lady Humble. 
 
 The Rev. and Hon. Mr. Robert Hay Drummond, 
 
 -Sir Willoughby Afton, Bart. 
 
 Sir Edward Boughton, Bart. 
 
 Sir Thomas Cave, Bart. 
 
 Sir William Calvert, Knt. 
 
 Sir William Courtenay, Bart. 
 
 Sir John Chefter, Bart. 
 
 Hon. and Rev. Sir John Dolben, Bart. 
 
 Sir John Dryden, Bart. 
 
 Sir Lifter Holr, Bart. 
 
 Sir Edmund Imam, Bart. 
 
 Sir Thomas Charles Kyte, Bart. 
 
 Sir Robert Long, Bart. 
 
 Sir Charles Mordaunt, Bart. 
 
 Sir William Morrice, Bart. 
 
 Sir Thomas Sam well, Bart. 
 
 Sir Francis Sfcipwith.' 
 
 Sir Hugh Smithfon, Bart. 
 
 Sir Charles Windham, Bart. 
 
 Sir Watkins Williams Wynne, Bart, 
 
 Sir Charles Tynte. 
 
 Mrs. Arnndel. 
 Mifs Addifon. 
 Mrs, Borland. 
 
 b T, Mifa
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mifs Anne Foley. 
 
 Mrs. Boothby. 
 
 Mrs. Harris. 
 
 Mrs. Knight. 
 
 Mrs. Frances Palmer. 
 
 Mrs. Pye, of Farringdon, 
 
 Mifs Pye. 
 
 Mifs Kempthorne. 
 
 Mifs Charlotte Kempthorni. 
 
 Mifs Walter. 
 
 Mrs. Ward, of Aynho. 
 
 Mrs. Whitworth. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Littleton Brown, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Baron. 
 
 Thomas Bathurft, of Lincoln College, Efqj 
 
 Rev. Dr. Beft. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Bolton. A. M. 
 
 Rev. Dr. George Coningfby. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Crew. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Cheney, Dean of Lincoln. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Bofwell, Prebendary of Wells. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Brown, Archdeacon of Northampton, 
 
 Rev. Mr. Crofsfield, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Cart. 
 
 Thomas Cartwright of Aynho, Efqj 
 William Cartwright, Efq-, 
 Rev. Mr. Jofeph Clarke, A. M. 
 Rev. Mr. Archdeacon Dudley. 
 Rev. Mr. Richard Hind, A. M. 
 Rev. Mr. Drake, A. M. 
 Rev. Dr. Fan/haw, S. T. P. Regius. 
 Peter Davis, Efq-, of Y-'ells. 
 Rev. Mr, Fothergay, A. M. 
 
 George
 
 SUBSCRIBER* 
 
 George Fox, of Bingley-Houfe, Efqj 
 
 Dr. Addington, of Reading. 
 
 Ralph Allen, Efq; 
 
 John Baber, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Barton, A. M. 
 
 . Bertie, Efq; 
 
 Norris Bertie, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Thomas Brotherton, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Brickenden. 
 
 John Burland, Efq; 
 
 Edward Butler, LL. t). prefident of Magdalen 
 
 College, Oxon. 
 Shuckburgh Boughton, Efq; 
 Rev. Mr. Burroughs. 
 John Blencow, Efq; 
 William Boulton, of Wells, Efq; 
 Thomas Brudenell, Efq; 
 Francis Beckford, E{q; 
 Mr. William Burgoyne. 
 Mr. Coker. 
 
 Henry Reginald Courtenay, Efq; 
 John Conyers, Efq; 
 Velters Cornwall, Efq; 
 Rev. Dr. Crefwick, Dean of Wells. 
 John Hippfley Cox, Efq; 
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 Richard Day rel, Efq; 
 Rev. Mr. Dalton. 
 Cholmondley Deering, Efq; 
 Rev. Mr. James Douglas, A. M. 
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 Dr. Dymoke, M. D. 
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 Fulk Grevil, Efq; 
 Dr. Ernie, of All Soul's College, Oxon. 
 
 John
 
 SVBSCRI BE RS. 
 
 John Eaton, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. William Fletcher, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Richard Grey. 
 
 Mr. Grant. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Godwyn. A. M* 
 
 Mr. Henzell. 
 
 Michael Harvey, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Rolt, A. M. 
 
 Mr. Edmund Herbert. 
 
 Dr. Harrington, M. D. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Ifham, Rector of Lincoln College, Oxon. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Jenner, of Magdalen College, Oxford. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Leigh, Matter of Baliol College, Oxon. 
 
 Hudfon, Efq; 
 
 Francis Gwyn, of Ford Abby, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Hutchins, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Farrer, A. M. 
 
 Erafmus Lewis, Efq; 
 
 Dr. George Larkin, M. D. 
 
 Charles Lethulier, Efq; 
 
 Dr. Mead, M. D. 
 
 Dr. Monroe, M. D. 
 
 Mr. Merrick, A. M. 
 
 William Matters, of Cirencefter, Efq; 
 
 Denzil Onflow, Efq; 
 
 Dr. Francis Nichols, M. D. 
 
 George Nichols, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Dr. John Nichols, Matter of Weftminftar 
 
 School. 
 
 Richard Grenville, Efq; 
 James Grenville, Efq; 
 
 Hall, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Hall, A, M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Hill, Canon of Wells. 
 
 Pr. Harrington, M. D, 
 
 Richard
 
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 Richard Jennings, Efq; 
 
 Pauljodrell, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. James, of Woughton, ten books. 
 
 Jones, Efq; 
 
 David James, Efq; 
 
 Anthony Keck, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Dr. Knatchbull. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Lye, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Thomas Leigh, B. D. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Thomas Leigh, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Liegh, Mafter of Baliol College. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Thomas Lifle, A. M. Chaplain to his 
 
 Royal Highnefs the Prince of Wales. 
 Mr. Charles Lifle. 
 Mrs. Mary Lifle. 
 Mr. Cutts Maid well. 
 Major Morris. 
 Capt. Oughton. 
 
 Rev. Mr. James Powell, A. M. * 
 John Pierce, Efq; 
 Alexander Pope, Efq; 
 Winchcomb Howard Packer, Efq; 
 Rev. Mr. John Price. 
 Thomas Prowfe, Efq; 
 Rev. Dr. Pierce, Dean of Winton. 
 Rev. Mr. Nixon, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Dr. George Reynolds, Archdeacon of Lincoln. 
 Rev. Mr.Rodd, A.M. 
 Rev. Mr. Rodd. B. D. 
 Rev. Mr. Charles Godwyn, A. M. 
 Mr. Charles Stone, of Bath. 
 Rev. Mr. Shan, A. M. 
 Rev. Dr. Standfaft, M. D. 
 John Harvey Thorefby, Efq$ 
 Rev, Mr. Archdeacon Smallbrooke.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Robert Stillingfleet. 
 Rev. Mr. Jofeph Sandford. A. M. 
 
 Serfe, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Mofes Terry, L. L. B. 
 
 Dr. Vaughan, D. D. Fellow of Lincoln College. 
 
 Rev. Dr. White, Canon of Wells. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Thomas Wilfon, A. M. 
 
 John Wind, Efq; 
 
 Thomas Wood, Eiq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Woodefon, A. M. 
 
 Charles Whitworth, Efq; 
 
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 Mr. Benjamin Pomfret. 
 
 Mr. George Paine. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Paine. 
 
 Peregrine Palmer, Efq; 
 
 Henry Pye, Efq; 
 
 Hertry Pye, Jun. Efq; 
 
 Dr. Rayner, M. D. 
 
 Chriftopher Rigby, Efq; 
 
 George Shackerley, Efq; 
 
 Rev. Mr. Shackerley, Archdeacon of Wells, 
 
 William Sherd, Efq; 
 
 George Smith, of Nibly, Efq; 
 
 Dr. John Smith. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Trimnel, Precentor of Lincoln. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Jofeph Trapp, D. D. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Wheeler, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Wilbraham, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Wife, A. M. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Wife, B. D. 
 
 Rev. Dr, Wynne, Canon of Salifbury. 
 
 Rev. Mr. William Wynne, of Llanvechan.
 
 C I R C K 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, the Oifter and the 
 Mole* 
 
 N D yet 'tis true, fair 
 daughter of the Sun, il- 
 luftrious Circe! amidft 
 this vaft profufion of de- 
 lights, and full pofleffion of celeftial charms, 
 after fo long an abfence, this ftrong defire 
 of feeing home will fuffer me to know nor 
 reft, nor peace. But e'er we part I beg to 
 be refolved, if there be any Greeks difguifed 
 B under
 
 2 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 under the hideous forms of lions, wolves, 
 bears, and other favages that glare upon us. 
 
 Circe. As I can hide no truth from dear 
 UkJJes, I fairly own there are j but why that 
 queftion ? 
 
 Ulyf. Let us a while enjoy the profpeft 
 which that fett upon the rock commands, 
 and I will tell you all. The infinite variety 
 that will prefent itfelf to our view, will ei- 
 ther furnifh difcourfe, or ferve to enliven it. 
 Tty^ little action of the waves heav'd gently 
 by the breeze diverfifies the fcene j and the 
 foft Zephyrs feem in their paffage to have 
 robbed the flowery fhrubs of half their o- 
 dours. 
 
 Circe. As I aim at nothing but to pleafe 
 you, you have nothing to do but to propof. 
 
 Ulyf. The reafon then, fair Siren, why I 
 a(k if any Greek be concealed here under the 
 figure of a beaft is, becaufe I purpofe, if 
 ever UlyJJes had any intereft in that breaft, to 
 beg, -with tears to beg, that they may be 
 recalled to their human fhape, and be the 
 glad companions of my voyage. 
 
 Circe. And what reaibn can you give for 
 this requefl ? 
 
 Ulyf: What reafon ? The pity that I feel 
 for every wretched countryman, within this- 
 
 fighing
 
 Uty/Tes, Circe, the Oift'er and Mole. 3 
 
 fighing bofom. What bleffings muft they in 
 tranfport pour upon me, to find themfelves 
 redeemed from this fo vile and miferable a 
 ftate ? Or elfc, what an eternal ftamp of ig- 
 nominy muft my name be branded with, to 
 have it faid, this was the man that left his 
 miferable friends transformed to brutes, nor 
 evef once endeavoured to refcue them from 
 the mean condition of the bcaftly herd ? 
 
 J 
 
 Circe. But, on the contrary, if inftead of 
 all thefe bleffings, all thefe thanks, to you 
 and to the Gods, your flattering fancy prc- 
 mifes, you find each moment from their re- 
 covery employed in bittereft curfes, and mofl 
 execrable vows, how will it repent the gene- 
 rous Ulyffes of his mifplaced benevolence^ 
 and too officious love ? 
 
 Ufyf. Ha ! ha ! to recover a loft friend 
 from beaft to man, muft, without doubt j 
 prove an unpardonable injury. 
 
 Circe. Ay moft unpardonable.-^ But make 
 the trial I confent only with this pfovifo, 
 that this be pracliled on none but who them- 
 felves are willing to fubmit to it. 
 
 Ufyf. Agreed ; but how can this be done? 
 How mall I know their inclinations, fince, 
 poor wretches ! I (hall neiiher underftand 
 them, nor they me. This, Circe, favours too 
 ftrongly of a banter, B 2 Circt.
 
 4 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Circe. As for that I beg you'll give your- 
 felf no trouble ; that's already granted. 
 
 Ufyf. Granted ! What ? That they (hall 
 have the ufe of language, and the fame lan- 
 guage that they ufed before their metamor- 
 phofis ? 
 
 Circe. The fame. The power that con- 
 verted them into brutes, fhall now be exer- 
 cifed in recalling their paft ideas, and the full 
 force of all their reafon *. To lofe no longer 
 time, d'ye fee two {hells that ftick upon that 
 rock ? See ! now they open, now they clofe 
 again. A little o* this fide, d'ye mark me ? 
 is a fmall heap of earth, not far from the 
 water, at the foot of yonder palm tree. 
 
 Ufyf. I fee them both diftinftly. 
 
 Circe. The {hells contain an oifter, and 
 the hillock harbours a mole ; both were 
 men, both Greeks, as you will find by their 
 difcourfe. And that you may examine them 
 with the greater freedom, I will remove to 
 fome diflance, and divert myfeif along the 
 ftrand, where, when you fully have fatisfied 
 your curiofity, you may be fure to find me ; 
 and when you have their confent, you free- 
 ly {hall have mine. Exit. 
 
 j. Hem. Od. x. 240.
 
 Uly fles, Ci rce, the Oifter and Mole. 5 
 
 Ufyf. folus. Why this is a mafter-piece of 
 her art ! But is it pollible that by her power- 
 ful charms, they (hall be able both to con- 
 verfe and reafon with me ? I muft own it 
 feems to me fo much to pafs the bounds of 
 probability, that I fcarce dare rilk the banter 
 it expofes me to. But then, fay, who is 
 here to laugh at me ? None but herfelf ; and 
 it muft be beneath the fprightly humour of a 
 Goddefs to lay fo dull a fcheme, as to draw 
 in a friend to expofe himfelf, merely for the 
 poor ill-natured pleafure of laughing at him. 
 Well then 'tis refolved and I'll begin. 
 But how ? For I know no other names for 
 thefe people than that of the animals they 
 reprefent. Let us try then : You Oifter ; 
 mafter Oifter. 
 
 Oifter. What would Ufyjfes have with 
 me? 
 
 Ufyf. My name too ! now am I quite a- 
 mamed not to be able to return the compli- 
 ment : but anfwer, and boldly too, if, as 
 Circe fays, thou art a Greek. 
 
 Oifl. I anfwer rather that I 'was a Greek ; 
 I have reafon to remember it : I lived near 
 Athens^ my name was lthacus t and I was 
 miferable enough to be a fimerman. 
 
 B 3 Ul. Then
 
 6 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Ul. Then I congratulate thee, old Oifter, 
 that thou haft found a friend, who hearing 
 that thou waft born a man, out of the uni- 
 verfal love he bears his fpecies, and above 
 all, his countrymen the Greeks^ has under- 
 taken to entreat the Goddefs, that {he will 
 inftantly reftore thee to thy former mape, 
 and fend thee a glad partner of his return. 
 
 Oift. I fhould not be infenfible of the 
 force of that wifdom and eloquence for which 
 the fage UlyJJes fo juftly was renowned a- 
 mong the Greeks, were not the one employed 
 to draw me from the uninterrupted happinefs 
 I now enjoy, and the other proftituted to re- 
 concile me to manhood, the moft miferable 
 eftate any animal in the univerfe can be 
 doomed to. 
 
 Ul. Sure, Itbacus, thy mape fuffered lefs 
 than thy underftanding in the change. 
 
 Oifl. If you fpeak as you think, I am 
 perfuaded that your underftanding would not 
 fuffer by any change. But rallery apart, let 
 us without prejudice examine the point, and 
 you will find that I, who have experienced 
 both eftates, fhall demon lira te the truth of 
 every thing I affert. 
 
 Ul. Come on then, for I love demonftra- 
 tion dearly. 
 
 Oijl. At-
 
 Uly flcs, Circe, the Oifter and Mole. 7 
 
 Oift. Attend then j but firft I muft de- 
 mand your word of honour that, when I 
 throw open my upper (hell in order to exalt 
 my voice, as muft happen in the courfe of 
 our dialogue, you will keep a ftri<5t eye, that 
 none of yon fly villainous crabs chuck in a 
 pebble, which they carry in their claws, be- 
 tween my (hells, and fo hinder me from 
 (hutting myfelf up. 
 
 Ul. What pray (hould they do that for? 
 
 Oift. Only that they may gag me, and fo 
 thruft in that fame claw to tear me out and 
 eat me*, that's all, Sir. And that's what 
 they are creeping up fo clofe to put in exe- 
 cution. 
 
 Ul. A very refined plot truly ! But pray 
 who taught you thus, either to fecure your- 
 felf, or to fore fee their defigns upon you ? 
 
 Oift. Nature ; that never fails us in nc- 
 ceilaries. 
 
 UL Go on then ; and fpeak without fu- 
 fpicion or fear, while I ftand your pledge. 
 
 Oift: Have patience then, and tell me a 
 little Ulyffes, if you men, who pride your- 
 lelves in being more perfect, and more wife, 
 than other animals, by all the boafteu ad- 
 
 * Vttera.tona.ni bane cancri calliJiiatetn late dejct ii/unt. Cjv 
 pian. Plut. Pliji. 
 
 B 4 vantages
 
 8 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 vantages of reafon, if you, I fay, don't al- 
 ways more value thofe things that you efteem 
 to be better than others. 
 
 Ul. Certainly ; the perfection of human 
 reafon confifts in difcerning the value of 
 things, and then ranging them in their proper 
 claffes, according to the degrees of their me- 
 rit. To prize things equally muft proceed 
 from not being acquainted with the relations 
 they ftand in ; and is an infallible fign of ig- 
 norance. 
 
 Oift. Apd don't you love one thing more 
 than another? 
 
 UL Yes; becaufe our love or hatred muft 
 rife in proportion to the value we difcover in 
 any thing. Every thing that appears lovely 
 mufl excite defire, and whatfoever is unami- 
 able muft create diilike. 
 
 Oift. If you love one thing more than 
 another, will not that love exprefs itfelf in 3. 
 greater concern for the thing beloved ? 
 
 UL No doubt of it, 
 
 Oift. D'ye think Nature does not do the 
 fame thing ? Or, which is all one, that In- 
 telligence that directs Nature ? And muft not 
 me do it more effectually, it being impofTible 
 that Nature mould ever err; as I have heard 
 your philofophers a hundred times afTert at 
 
 Athens^
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, the Oifter and Mole. 9 
 Athens^ when I have been with my pannier 
 of fim in the fchools ? 
 
 VI. That I grant too. 
 
 Oift. Nay then you grant all I contend for, 
 if you allow fo much, it muft follow by juft 
 eonfequence that we are your betters. 
 
 VI. Howfo? 
 
 Oift. Becaufe if Nature takes more care 
 of us, (he has more love for us, and that 
 can only follow from the reafon aforefaid. 
 
 VI. Why, who would have thought to 
 find fo much logick between a pair of mells ? 
 I proteft, old fiftimonger, I'll back thee againft 
 the firft logician in all Athens. 
 
 Oijl. I know not what you mean by your 
 logick; I fpeak the language that Nature 
 dictates; and what me fuggefts, if attended 
 to, will always be found right. 
 
 VI. As witnefs the proportion before us; 
 that flie fets a higher degree of value upon 
 the brute creation than on man. 
 
 Oijl. This is fo evident a truth, that a 
 fmall degree of confideration will give you 
 the full force of the demonftration. And 
 to tire you but once for all, let us go back 
 as far as we can, up to the firft time that ei- 
 ther you or me make our appearance in the 
 world : I meap, let us take our eftimate from 
 
 our
 
 io DIALOGUE I. 
 
 our birth-day. Now which of us two docs 
 {he feem to be moft folicitous about ? About 
 thofe that are dropt ftark naked, and ex- 
 pofed to the wide world; or thofe that (he 
 has been at the pains to fet out thoroughly 
 furnimt and equipt ? This : animal with a 
 tough hide, that with a warm fur > this 
 armed with fcales, that beautifully adorned 
 with feathers. Here I think one cannot long 
 doubt whofc prefervation me feems to have 
 mofl at heart. 
 
 Ul. That is not the reafon why we arc 
 born naked, or covered with a ikin fo very 
 delicate, that the flighted: imprefTion is ca- 
 pable of offending us. The true reafon of 
 this was, becaufe as fhe intended we mould 
 cxercife more than you all the internal fenfes, 
 cfpecially the imagination, in order to keep 
 them in readinefs to ferve the undemanding, 
 it was necelfary that all our parts, particu- 
 larly thofe that are the immediate organs and 
 inftruments of fenfation, mould be fupplied 
 with a fluid more active and fubtle, more 
 fpirituous and capable of a higher degree of 
 rarefaction, than yours. Whereas, were we 
 like you filled with foul humours, and heavy 
 blood (from whence you are of a ftronger 
 texture, and of more robuft limbs j but we 
 
 generally
 
 UlyfieSjCirce, the Oijler and Mole. \ i 
 
 generally longer lived, which by the by ar- 
 gues a better mixture in our conftitution) 
 our fenfibility which is affected by very mi- 
 nute objects would like yours be but very 
 flow and imperfect. For as your Phyfiogno- 
 mijls obferve, our difpofitions depend upon 
 the configuration of the parts *. He that 
 refembles a lion will behave like one j and 
 the manners of a bear ever correfpond with 
 the likenefs of a bear. The obfervation holds 
 good through our own fpecies ; thofe that 
 are compofed of groffer humours are of flower 
 parts, and where you find the {kin foft, and 
 the flefh fupple, you may promife yourfelf a 
 certain delicatenefs of apprehenfiorL So that 
 when Nature defigned to make us rational 
 creatures me was obliged to make us juft as 
 we are. 
 
 Oift. I can never believe that me which 
 made all things, was under the impulfe of 
 any necefiity to determine her operations, 
 which flie could accommodate to her own 
 purppfes. And could have purfued quite 
 different methods, and other means to ac- 
 compliih her end. As for inllance, fhe could 
 have given water the burning quality, and 
 fire the freezing one. 
 
 * :.<; -A-//: w.v ill r^-Jto^nomidi, a; id Bsf>t, Porta. 
 
 Ut. Not
 
 12 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 VI. Not with fafety to that uniformity, 
 that harmony, that we fo juftly admire, and 
 is fo confpicuous, throughout the univerfe. 
 
 Oift. But if a different difpofltion of things 
 had better pleafed her, different beauties muft 
 refult from it, perhaps no way inferior to 
 the prefent. 
 
 Z77. Nay if once we fall into guefs-work, 
 and bare poflibilities, we muft be loft. But 
 to return to our argument j what does it fig- 
 nify if (he did turn us out naked, and at the 
 fame time furnifhed us with either Hull or 
 ftrength enough to ftrip you of your {kins to 
 clothe ourfelves withal ? 
 
 Oift. Ay, but how full of dangers many 
 times is the attempt ? How many have fuf- 
 fered in it ? Not to infift on the labour that 
 muft fucceed : In the trouble of fpinning, 
 weaving, and dreffing them, before they can 
 be fit to be worn ? 
 
 Ul. What you call labour is in truth a 
 mere amufement. 
 
 Oift. It may feem fo to you ; and for 
 ought I know to others, who are quite at 
 their eafe j but afk thofe that live by thcfc 
 amufements, and I am miftaken if they 
 don't call them by another name, and they 
 are the beft judges of the pleafure of work- 
 ins.
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, the Qifter and Mole. 1 3 
 ing. For my own part, when I was a man, 
 I had fuch an abhorrence for work, that it 
 was folely to avoid it that I turned fimerman. 
 For there is no danger that I would not pre- 
 fer before labour. The life of a labourer 
 feems to me to be exactly the life of an ox, 
 who is all his time in the geers, and when 
 his labour is done, he is rewarded by a good 
 thump of a fledge upon the forehead. 
 
 VI. He that to avoid labour could turn 
 fimerman, juftifies the old proverb, that La- 
 zieft folks take the moft pains ; if a man flies 
 from trouble, I obferve it generally follows 
 him. Of all trades yours, unlefs a man 
 fhould chufe it out of a particular turn for it, 
 muft be the moft difagreeable, as it is per- 
 petually expofed to the fudden changes of 
 heat and cold, and all the uncertainties of 
 wind and weather. 
 
 Oift. You fee I think fo j and therefore 
 abfolutely refufe to become a man again. 
 Who feems to me (befides being expofed by 
 Nature naked and helplefs) wholly unprovid- 
 ed of a place of refidence j without a houfe 
 to hide his head in from the inclemencies of 
 the feafons ; the vagabond and exile of the 
 world 
 
 VI. Pray
 
 i 4 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 W. Pray Sir, what curious dome has flic 
 provided for you) 
 
 Gift. I beg you, Sir, not to overlook the 
 beauties and conveniencies of this pair of 
 fliells. See with what eafe do I throw them 
 open ? With what readinefs do I fhut them, 
 juft as I want either to eat or fleep or to de- 
 fend myfelf ? Not to mention the fnail and 
 the tortoife ; with what facility do they bear 
 their houfes about with them ? 
 
 UL How few fuch can you name out of 
 the whole brutal world ? For example, there's 
 the whole nation of the birds, what manfions 
 have they built for them ? 
 
 Oift. I anfwer ; for their winter habita- 
 tions the fafe caverns and deep grottos of the 
 earth; for their fummer feats, the retire- 
 ment of the groves, or the whole range of 
 the mountains. 
 
 UL Delightful apartments truly ! and fine- 
 ly furnifhed with all manner of neceflaries ! 
 
 Oift. What they want in furniture th6y 
 make up in comfort and fatisfaction, which 
 are great rarities in fome of your cafHes and 
 palaces. 
 
 UL Then it muft be our own faults ; fince 
 we are our own architects, and confequently, 
 may build them to our own tafte. 
 
 Oift. That
 
 Uly ffes, Circe, the Oifter and Mole. 1 5 
 
 Oift. That tafte is no fecurity againft the 
 trouble of defending them, the expence of 
 repairing them ; and what is more, againfl 
 the danger of their tumbling upon your 
 heads. Not to mention the horrors men 
 "fometimes are thrown into from the mere ap- 
 prehenfion of earthquakes, which you know 
 in our own country are fo very terrible, that 
 I have known men quit their houfes, to fleep 
 in the fields by night, and all the day long 
 run up and down fcreaming like a flock of 
 frighted herns praying and adjuring the 
 Gods with lighted torches, and all the noh- 
 fenfe of charms that fuperftition can fug- 
 geft: So that the fofteft thing one could lay 
 of it was, their fears had drove out their 
 wits. 
 
 Ul. Thcfe are instances fo very rare, that 
 they are of no account. 
 
 Oift. Further;, you cannot always chufe 
 your lituation ; and when you have, there 
 you are nailed down without the power, as 
 many of us have, of carrying our houfes on 
 our backs. 
 
 UL A great difadvantage truly ; when a 
 
 man has pleafed himfelf every way in the 
 
 choice of his fituation, not to be able to run 
 
 away from it. Don't you know Chi ft a bene y 
 
 3 non
 
 16 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 non debbe mutarfi; " he that is well has no 
 ct bufinefs to rifque a change." 
 
 Oifi. And is it really no difadvantage to 
 be pin'd down to a bad neighbour, who may 
 be always plaguing one by his ill-nature, or 
 offending you by fome difagreeable trade ? 
 whereas we under fuch circumftances have 
 the whole world before us to fettle in. So 
 that to return to our firil propofition, as Na- 
 ture has taken more care of us, and as me 
 cannot err in her choice, it muft follow, that 
 we are better and more valuable than you, 
 which was the thing to be demonftrated. 
 
 VI. Was there ever fuch fophiflry ! Where- 
 as the true reafon why me may feem to pro- 
 vide more for you than for us, is becaufe me 
 knew you had not faculties enough to provide 
 for yourfelves. But I think one fhort que- 
 ftion will cut this argument mort : Pray 
 which is higheft in rank, the matter or the 
 fervant ? 
 
 Oifl. The mafter, confidered merely as 
 fuch. 
 
 U/. Right j and thus it is in the nature of 
 things, that which is confidered as the end, 
 is more noble, and of more efleem than the 
 bare means in order to ferve that end. Now 
 that we are the end for which you were 
 
 created
 
 UlyffeSjCirce, the Oifter and Mole. 17 
 
 created is evident, becaufe all that you arc 
 good for is employed in, and directed to our 
 fervice. You carry our burdens, do our 
 drudgery, and plough our ground, when a- 
 live j for which we do you the honour to 
 wear your fkins, and eat your flefh, after 
 you are dead. 
 
 Oijl. By parity of reafon that fame ground 
 is more excellent than you. Your lives are 
 fpent in it's fervice ; and when you are dead, 
 it generouily repays you by devouring you j 
 that therefore is the ultimate or final caufe 
 of your creation. 
 
 Ut. I deny the confequence j which you 
 will eaiily fee to be falfe, if you pleafe to 
 confider that final caufes are of two forts. 
 
 Oift. I would fain fpare you the trouble, 
 Ulyjfes, which I fee you are going to give 
 yourfelf, of entering upon a queftion which 
 I have fo often heard handled by the Philo- 
 fophers in the porches at Athens, where, as 
 I told you before, I ufed to ply with my fiih ; 
 in which they feemed to me readily to dif- 
 cufs what, I believe, neither they nor any 
 body elfe underftand. Befides I perceive the 
 dew begins to fall, with which I never fail, 
 by flinging my fliell up, to regale myfelf, and 
 that too in a condition fo void of care, fo 
 C undifturbed
 
 i 8 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 undiflurbed by thought, that I never remem- 
 ber to have enjoyed the like in the ftate to 
 which you would bring me back. So that 
 I hope, by this time, you begin to ceafe to 
 wonder, that I am refolved to continue juft 
 as you fee me. If your notions clam a little 
 with mine, pleafe to keep them to yourfelf, 
 for I am determined not to be troubled with 
 them. After fupper it is my method to (hut 
 up, and compofe myfelf to reft, without 
 leaving room for fo much as one uneafy re- 
 flection, which is more than the wifeft among 
 you can often boaft of. And I am more 
 pleafed with my own contentment, than with 
 any thing that it is in your power to beftow 
 on me in lieu of it. Exit. 
 
 UL Well ! I have certainly fct out with 
 Very ill luck. That I mould light on fuch a 
 perverfe creature ! who muft have been a 
 wretch of a low degree of reafon : His very 
 trade proves it. Thofe that can beftow thek 
 whole time in attending upon birds and fifties 
 have very feldom an underftanding three de- 
 grees better than they; always excepting fome 
 ingenious young men of quality who conde- 
 fcend to let their wits againft fuch animals. 
 What a relifh muft he have of the pleafures 
 of the world, that could prefer a little dew 
 i to
 
 Ulyfles, Circej the Oifter and Mole. 1 9 
 to the moft exquifitc of them ? E'en let him 
 remain the wretch he is, as. a juft reward for 
 fo much infenfibility. Jn the mean time we 
 v/ill proceed to reafon a little with the inha- 
 bitant that Circe tells me refides in this mole- 
 hill j we (hall find him perhaps a grave and 
 difcreet perfonage. Now for it. Mole, why 
 Mole I fay. 
 
 Mole. What wouldft thou have with me^ 
 UtyfJ'es? Or how have I deferved that thou 
 fhouldft thus break in upon my peace ? 
 
 UL Did you but know how I have em- 
 ployed my intereft with Circe, and how fat 1 
 my prayers have prevailed for you, the leaft 
 fpark of gratitude would incline you to for- 
 give me this intrufion. 
 
 Mole. I know it all ; I overheard what 
 pafled between that other Greek and you j I 
 mean the Oifter. 
 
 Ul. What ? that I had the grant of re^ 
 fcuing thee from this prifon, of conferring 
 manhood upon thee j and, if thou art a 
 Greek, of conveying thee fafe back to thy 
 own country? 
 
 Mole. A Greek \ was ; and of the moft 
 delightful part of all Etolia. 
 
 UL The ftronger then muft be thy wifliefc 
 to refume thy old fhape, and to revolt thy 
 native foil* C 2 Molt.
 
 20 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Mole. You fpeak of alterations that I have 
 not yet been fool enough to confider. 
 
 Ut. How? Is it folly then in your lan- 
 guage to wifh to change from worfe to 
 better ? 
 
 Mole. No ; but it is fo to make intereft to 
 change better for worfe, which is the pre- 
 fent cafe. Sir, the flate of the bargain is 
 this, to barter uninterrupted tranquillity for 
 all that anxiety of mind, and racking cares, 
 which human nature is fo plentifully fupplied 
 with. 
 
 TJL You are giving a proof indeed, that 
 you were liftening to that fool of a FiQi- 
 monger with whom I was talking. 
 
 Mole. I liften to nothing lefs than to ex- 
 perience, the ftrongeft proof; and what is 
 more, to experience, grounded on my own 
 employment. 
 
 Ul. In what manner did this fame expe- 
 rience prove that we are lefs happy, or more 
 miferable, than you ? 
 
 Mole. I (hall confine myfelf to the ob- 
 fervation of one only miferable circumftance 
 that attends you ; which I fay my own em- 
 ployment naturally threw in my way to make. 
 Then I mail leave you to your own thoughts, 
 to make the application, and to draw confe- 
 quences. Ul. Say
 
 UlyfleSjCircc, the OiJIer and Mole. 21 
 
 U/. Say on j but firft, What ftrange en>- 
 ployment could that be which led you into 
 fuch grofs miftakes ? 
 
 Mole. \ was an hulbandman, a day la- 
 bourer indeed. 
 
 77. Why this is falling out of the frying- 
 pan into the fire with a witnefs, to efcapc 
 from a fifhcrman, and to ftumblc upon a 
 clodpate, who, unlefs he has undergone a 
 thorough transformation, muft be ten times 
 ftupider than he. 
 
 Mole. Ufyffes, it will better become you 
 to mind what I fay, than to reflect on what 
 I was. Take this with you, that every man, 
 is a man ; and if you arc attentive, I don't 
 doubt but we (hall foon have you lamenting 
 your hard lack, that you miffed the favour 
 of being changed yourfelf by the Goddefs, 
 as well as your neighbours. 
 
 Ul. If you only require my attention, you 
 may depend on that. 
 
 Mole. What animal then do you find 
 throughout the univerfe, of which there arc 
 infinite fpecies, terreftrial or aquatick, for 
 whom the earth does not of itfelf provide 
 proper fuftcnance, except man alone ? Who 
 unlefs he is weary of his being, muft un- 
 dergo the perpetual drudgery of ploughing, 
 C 3 fowing,
 
 22 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 fowing, and all the fatigues of hufban- 
 dry? 
 
 UL This is a miftake grounded upon mere 
 luxury ; whereas were we but contented to 
 live as you do, we need be at no more pains 
 than you. 
 
 Mole. Well then pray what herb, what 
 feed, or what fruit, does the earth fponta- 
 neoufly produce, J mean without the afliftr 
 jmce of art, which is a proper food to pre- 
 ferve either your health or life? 
 
 Ui. Did you never hear how the firft and 
 belt of men fared in the fo much boafted 
 golden age ? 
 
 Mole. That I take to be a fable too grofs 
 for the wife UlyJJes to fwallow. 
 
 Ui. Granting all that you fay to be true, 
 and that man is obliged to this circle of till* 
 ing the ground, pruning his vines, and graft- 
 ing his trees, is he not fufficiently rewarded 
 by the pleafurc that attends the talk ? It is 
 at mofl but a recreation that Nature cuts out 
 for him, having his welfare too much at 
 heart tp fuffer him to pafs his time in idler 
 nefs r And that this is true, the recompence 
 of his toil abundantly {hews. For there is 
 nothing more agreeable, or that gives us an 
 opportunity of fhewing that fkill and ma-^ 
 
 nagement
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, the Oi/ler and Mole. 2% 
 
 nagement- that fbts us fo much above you 
 hearts. 
 
 Mole. Say rather, that it was inflided up- 
 on you, as ah effectual means to fecure you 
 from enjoying one hour's peace ; for befide 
 the trouble of making the moil of what 
 you have, you are plagued about what 
 you have not. And as the produce of the 
 earth is very uncertain, when there happens 
 to come a fcarce year, all that time is fpent 
 in dreadful apprehenfions how far it may go; 
 and not a morfel can be fwallowed without 
 the fear of a famine before your eyes ; which 
 can never be our cafe, when provhion be- 
 gins to come mort in one place, we. imme- 
 diately look out for another, without being 
 much ernbarraffed by removing our luggage. 
 
 Ul. Then I prefume you never heard of 
 fuch a thing as commerce, and of fupplying 
 the neceflkies of one country by the redun- 
 dancy of another. 
 
 Mole. But with what fatigue from jour- 
 neys, what dangers from voyages ? And what 
 is more, with what difquietude of mind ! 
 Let this fuffice, to mew that your life is one 
 continued fcene of diftrefs, now labouring 
 under one misfortune, now ftruggling with 
 another. So that, what you cannot retort 
 C 4 upon
 
 24 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 upon us, you have rcafon at your birth to 
 flied thofe tears, that arc but ^prelude to the 
 mifery that muft cnfue. 
 
 Ul. That's abfurd ; bccaufe when we 
 fhed thofe tears we are neither confcious of 
 good or harm. 
 
 Mok. Be that as it will; you begin from 
 that moment to find the inconveniencies of 
 the climate to which you are doomed ; which, 
 as I faid before, is made fuitable to every 
 animal but you. And for that reafon you 
 alone are by Nature fupplied with tears. 
 
 UL How ! did you never hear of a horfc's 
 ihedding tears * ? 
 
 Mole. Yes, but I never believed it. And 
 thofe drops that have been fo well attefted to 
 fall from their eyes, I take to be nothing 
 
 * Virg. JEntid. Lib. XI. Carm. 90. 
 
 Poft bellator equus pojitis infignibus armis 
 It lacbrymans, guttis bumeftat grandibus ora. 
 
 It is fufEcient to juftify a poetical philofopher, (Poeticum enitn 
 effe Quvetov philofaphi* ait Sjnefius, Ep. I . ) that Arijlotlc and 
 Pliny fay, horfcs often weep at the lofs of their mafter ; but 
 what Suetonius, an hiftorian, fays of Co-far' 1 ?, horfes weeping 
 at their mafter's paffing the Rubicon, gives unqueftionable au- 
 thority. So Horn. Iliad. XVII. 
 
 Their godlike mafter Jlain before their eyes 
 Ibtj weft, and jbar^ti in human mi/eries. 
 
 Mr. Pept . 
 
 more
 
 Uly fles, Circe, the Otjler and Mole. 2 5 
 
 more than a fupcrfiuity of moifture, which 
 fo delicate a creature as a horfe is, may well 
 be fubject to. And even according to the 
 fuppofition, I dare fay, 'twas for fome mis- 
 fortune that grieved him, that he muft leave 
 a loved mafter, or a loving companion j and 
 that it was never pretended that he has been 
 feen to weep, like you, the minute he was 
 foaled. But you have reafon enough for it, 
 to think that you muft implore the afllftance 
 of fome good-natured nurfe, to fwaddle you 
 as well as feed you, not having it in your 
 power to fupply yourfelves with what is ne- 
 ceflary to your fupport. And therefore to 
 give you as little trouble as poflible, I for 
 my own part declare, that I will fooner die 
 as I am, than be gulled by your offer. 
 
 Ul. I believe, Mole, I muft be obliged to 
 repeat to you the fpeech I made to the Oifter, 
 that the fame moment robbed you of your 
 manhood and your fenfe together. Sure you 
 muft be very ignorant, not to know what 
 fort of creatures you are : If you were in- 
 deed compleat in your kind, perfect animals, 
 I would fay fomething to you. 
 
 Mo/e. Why pray, what hinders us from 
 being fo? 
 
 Iff, What?
 
 26 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 VL What ? Why your friend there has 
 neither the faculty of fmelling or hearing, 
 or the power to move himfelf an inch. You, 
 as I take it, are blind *, and what is worfe 
 too, after being acquainted with what the 
 pleafures of fight are ; by much the mod 
 inftructive of all the fenfes. 
 
 Mole. Hey day ! but how does this prove 
 us to be imperfect ? That you are pleafed to 
 call us fo I grant ; and perhaps we may be 
 faid to be fo, in refpedt of thofe that have 
 all the fenfes. But I don't underftand how 
 we can properly be faid to be imperfect, un- 
 lefs we were defective in any thing that be- 
 longs to our own fpecies. 
 
 Ul. But is it not better to have them all ? 
 
 Mote. No; it would be no advantage to 
 me, as a Mole, to be able to fee : Nor to the 
 Oifter to be able to fee or hear, or to ramble 
 up and down. Deal ingenuoufly with me ; 
 can you conceive any other ufe in being able 
 to ramble from place to place > befide the 
 power of fetching what one wants? 
 
 The proverb ia StuJtf, d<rx**ax&' 
 
 or is fufficient to juftify Gelli. But he, Pjitiy, and Ari- 
 jfot/e, knew that the Mole had fmall eyes as well as the rnoft 
 cnlighten'd modern Philofopher. Vide Plin. L#>. JX. Cap, 
 XXXVII. ex Arijtotele,. 
 
 W, Cer-
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, the Oijler and Mole. 2 7 
 
 VI. Certainly Nature gave it for no other 
 reafon ; and therefore the old faying holds 
 good, that all motion implies necejjity. 
 
 Mole. And you think if you had every 
 thing you wanted within your reach, you 
 yourfelf fhould never ftir out of your place ? 
 
 07. Why (hould I ? 
 
 Mole. What occafion then can the Oifter 
 Jiave for locomotion, who is fupplied with 
 every thing he wants as he fits flill ? So for 
 the faculty of ftnclling ; what ufe could it 
 be of to him, that has nothing to hunt after, 
 but has every thing he wants brought home 
 to him ? Thus I, who out of choice am al- 
 ways underground, where I find myfelf per- 
 fectly at eafe, what advantage would fight 
 pray be to me ? 
 
 1/7. But one would be glad to have more 
 than one has a mere neceffity for. 
 
 Mole. Why ? efpecially if it be not fuit- 
 Able to one's nature. For my part I have no 
 more ambition to furpafs the perfeclion of my 
 pwn kind, than you have reafon to wi(h for 
 the luminous body of a ftar, or to envy 
 bird the advantage of a pair of wings. 
 
 177. You fuppofe what would be highly 
 inconvenient to fuch a creature as jnan.
 
 2 8 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Mole. But if all other men were fo made 
 you would think yourfelf hardly dealt with 
 to be excepted. 
 
 UL I believe it. 
 
 Mole. And won't you believe that to be 
 juft my cafe. If my brethren the Moles 
 could all fee, I mould be uneafy for want of 
 eyes j but as I am upon an equal footing with 
 the reft, I beg to be no longer troubled with 
 your propofition. I find I am perfect in my 
 own kind, and what is more, perfectly eafy, 
 and fo fhall endeavour to remain, without 
 hazarding happinefs in a human form. Pro- 
 bably you have fome bufinefs of your own 5 
 if not, don't hinder thofe that have j I can- 
 not poflibly be longer abfent from fome few 
 concerns under ground. Exit Mole. 
 
 UL Am I awake ! or is this all imagina- 
 tion ? If this be not a dream, yet I, however, 
 can't be what I was : I am no more Ulyjfes. 
 He could not be baffled thus, in proving to 
 thefe two people fo plain a truth. UfyJ/es was 
 famed for proving to the Greeks whatever he 
 had a mind they mould believe. It mutt be 
 fo then, that the fault muft be in them ; and 
 it was my luck to meet two wretches not ca- 
 pable of taking an argument. And, upon 
 reflection, 'tis no great wonder if the Fifher- 
 
 man
 
 UlyffeSjCirce, the Oifter and Mole. 29 
 man be no wifer than the Ditcher. So that 
 I have no reafon to fufpedt the fame fucccfs 
 with the reft of thefe creatures. For as they 
 were of different profeffions and ranks in the 
 world, it is not likely they mould all have 
 the fame turn. But firft I muft go in queft 
 of my Goddefs, and inform her of every 
 thing that has palfed, and infift upon her 
 promife, of having the privilege of examin- 
 ing the reft ; for it would be barbarous to 
 deprive others of the benefit of the propofal, 
 merely upon the account of the ftupidity or 
 obftinacy of a couple of blockheads. 
 
 Exit Ulyffes.' 
 
 CIRCE,
 
 3 o DIALOGUE II. 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Translated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Serpent. 
 
 -Circe. HAT report may we ex- 
 
 pea, Ufyjfes, from your 
 friends the Greeks ? 
 
 Ulyfles. I have yet found-' 
 ed none, except the two you fingled out ; 
 whofe lives were fpent in two fuch miferable 
 and laborious employments, that it is no fur- 
 prize to find them averfe to accept of a pro- 
 pofal that muft bring them back to fo much 
 wretehednefs,
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 3 1 
 
 Circe. To prevent you from imputing fo 
 odd a rencounter to mere chance, I frankly 
 confefs it to be a fcheme of my own; to 
 give you a little infight into the comforts and 
 pleafures of low life, which are fo much the 
 fubjed: of panegyrick among your writers. 
 To convince you that the moft vile, and 
 what you call the moft imperfect animals, 
 prefer their prefent fituation, for reafons 
 which they themfelves affigned. 
 
 Ul. But ftill it muft prove them to have 
 been the dulleft of all creatures, when they 
 found themfelves miferable in one way of 
 life, not to think of looking out for ano- 
 ther. 
 
 Circe. So far from it, that I think it mews 
 greater management to be able to fuic one's 
 felf to our own circumftances, be they what 
 they will, than to endeavour to change them. 
 As the dexterity of a gamefter is feen by 
 making the beft of a bad cart, which {hews 
 his fkill at leaft, if not his luck : So if a 
 wife man can't command Fortune, he will 
 take care to leave as little in her power as 
 poflible. 
 
 Ul. Circe underftands human nature too 
 well not to know there is a wider difference 
 between men, than between any other ani- 
 mals
 
 3 2 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 mals of the fame fpecies. In fome you dif- 
 cover fuch a compafs of knowledge, fuch a 
 vivacity of imagination as may juftly rank 
 them with the immortal Gods. In others 
 you perceive fo poor a flock of ideas, and an 
 apprehenfion fo very fluggim as levels them 
 with the beafts. Which has made fome 
 doubt if all may be faid to be endued with 
 a rational foul. Whereas caft your eyes a- 
 mong lions, bears, or what kind of brutes 
 you pleafe, you will find the difference fcarce 
 difcernible. And as for thofe two with 
 whom I have had the pleafure to difpute, I 
 take them to be of that clafs of people, who 
 for want of judging what is good or bad for 
 them, are always apt to fancy every condi- 
 tion better than their own. 
 
 Circe. If good or bad were to be difcerned 
 by quicknefs of parts, or ftrength of judg- 
 ment, I mould fay fomething for your opi- 
 nion : But as experience is their only rule, 
 that being a touchftonc that muft mew things 
 to be juft as they are; the cafe is quite al- 
 tered. But hold a moment ; here is another 
 difputant for you ; I mean that Serpent, now 
 he crofles the path, now fee ! he makes to- 
 wards us. If I remember rightly, it was a 
 Greek I changed into that fhape, He per- 
 I haps
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent* 33 
 haps will anfwer more to your fatisfaction 
 than the former two. However for the pre- 
 fent I give him power to converfe with you. 
 
 W. I fancy he knows we are talking of 
 him, by his keeping his eyes fo fixed up- 
 on us. 
 
 Circe. It may be fo; do you try him whilft 
 I withdraw a little to join , the nymphs who 
 are diverting themfelves, I fee, upon the 
 fhore. 
 
 W. I confefs myfelf in the main fo well 
 entertained with the two laft creatures, that 
 though I could not carry my point with therrij 
 I am refolved to try my luck once more 5 fo> 
 Serpent, I fay, Serpent, there* 
 
 Serpent. What wouldft thou have, UfyJ~ 
 fes ? But oh ! unhappy me. Do I then un- 
 derftand, and do I fpeak ? Sure I am relapf- 
 ing into manhood ! Oh! forbid it all ye 
 powers* 
 
 Ul. What reafon canft thou give for all 
 this horror, at the thoughts of being what 
 thou waft? I prefume the miferable condi- 
 tion of thy former life. 
 
 Serf. Oh! no, 'tis the ftate itfelf; 'tis 
 humanity itfelf I dread. The fad receptacle 
 of all woe: 
 
 D Ul. I
 
 34 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 Ul. I begin to doubt if my prefent expe- 
 riment will prove more fuccefsful than the 
 former. But Serpent, once for all, I charge 
 thee hear me. Know then, the Goddefs, 
 weaned by my entreaties, has given me full 
 power to unbind the charm that holds thee 
 metamorphofed. And, as thou art a Greek, 
 I make thee here an offer of the ineftimable 
 grant. 
 
 Serf. If you have that love for me you 
 pretend, I beg you to make the tender where 
 it may be more acceptable. All my ambi- 
 tion is, to end my days juft as I am. I mould 
 be glad to oblige you j but really it would be 
 making too foolifh a bargain, to change cir- 
 Cumftances with one of you. 
 
 Ul. Your reafon. 
 
 Serp. I thought you had reafons enough 
 given you to day already. 
 
 U7. Alas ! the two wretches I difcourfed 
 with, were creatures of fo bafe a condition, 
 and fo poor an education, that 'twas impof- 
 fible to pay the leaft regard to any thing they 
 faid. 
 
 Serp. And yet even thefe, you fee, could 
 give you reafons for not accepting your offer. 
 
 Ul. Why, one of them, you muft know, 
 
 who was a poor fimerman, could not bear 
 
 2 the
 
 Ulyffes, CircCj and the Serpent. 35 
 the thoughts of having his lodgings always to 
 feek, whilft the reft of the creation has them 
 ready provided. This creature in holes and 
 burroughs, that in bufhes or upon trees j one 
 always in the water, others on land and wa- 
 ter indifferently. The othetj who was a 
 hufbandman, dreaded the thoughts of re- 
 turning to his labour ; and except the ground 
 be kept in perpetual exercife, by manuring 
 and fowing; he found it produced nothing 
 for man's ufe^ as it did for all other animals 
 in the world. 
 
 Serp. And 1^ who hi the days of* my hu* 
 inanity was a phyfician, {hall make my 6\>- 
 jeftion againft a caufe of mifery of a fuperior 
 nature. Mifery above the power of art to 
 redrefsj and grievances not, like theirs, to 
 be remedied by agriculture} defects not to be 
 fupplied by architecture. 
 
 Ul. Name them. 
 
 Serp. I mean the pcornefs of your cdrifti- 
 tutions, which fubjecls you to fuch a" lift of 
 difeafes, that you can never be faid one mo- 
 ment of your lives, like one of us^ to be 
 perfectly in health: Are never fo fecure as 
 not to be in danger from every little excefs of 
 catehing a diftemper. 
 
 r> A W. this,
 
 36 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 VI. This, as I told the other two, muft 
 of neceffity be fo; as Nature intended in us 
 to carry on her operations in a very fubtle 
 manner ; which could not be effected, if we 
 were, compofed of more clumfy materials. 
 If our humours had been infpiffated, our 
 blood heavier, and our texture coarfer, as it 
 is with you. 
 
 Serp. Say rather, 'twas to confirm you the 
 moft crazy puny wretches in the univerfe. 
 
 VI. Well, granting our fituation to be as 
 ticklifh as you reprefent it; you can't deny 
 us to have a fuperior judgment, to avoid 
 what may prove injurious to us. 
 
 Serp. In fome meafure I confefs it, but 
 'tis fo very tedious, that you find few are at 
 the pains to exercife it. But to prove that 
 this happens out of the 'mere fpite Nature 
 owes you, me has at the fame time given you 
 an appetite fo infatiable, and a will fo ungo- 
 vernable, that you are ever inventing new 
 dimes j and if one chances to hit your liquor- 
 ifh palates, you give yourfelves wholly up to 
 gluttony without reflraint; or at leaft are 
 with the greateft difficulty kept within the 
 bounds of only fatisfying nature : which muft 
 lay in a magazine ot fuch different and dan- 
 gerous difeafes. 
 
 2 (//. Pray
 
 Uly fles, Circe, and the Serpent. 3 7 
 
 VI. Pray what is the food you allude to, 
 which Nature herfelf does not point out for 
 our fuftenance ? 
 
 Serf. How can you afk the queftion? 
 when you know it to be of infinite forts. But 
 to be particular, I mean all that you employ 
 to give a relim to other things, which at the 
 fame time are not themfelves fingly eatable j 
 fuch as fait, pepper, and the whole tribe of 
 aromaticks. 
 
 VI. Now for my part, I always thought 
 the reverfe, and received it for an acknow- 
 ledg'd truth, that fait was abfolutely necef- 
 fary to preferve the life of man. 
 
 Serp. If there be any truth in the notion, 
 it only proves, that you have fuch a redund- 
 ancy of humours through intemperance, as 
 to demand fo great a drier to abforb them. 
 Whereas were the food fimple, and the quan- 
 tity moderate, it would not find too much 
 moifture to feed on. But the fact is, that 
 thefe things, by heightening the tafte, fo pro- 
 voke the appetite, that people are more in- 
 tent upon humouring their palates, than of 
 fatisfying their flomachs. The confequence 
 of which muft be, that fuch mixtures muft 
 inflame a thirft not to be quenched but by 
 a profulion of liquor much too great for Na~ 
 P 3 ture
 
 38 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 ture to difppfe of; which lays in a {lore for 
 catarrhs, defluxions, apoplexies, gouts, and 
 rheums. Not to mention a thoufand other 
 diftempers that ufualjy fucceed, not to be 
 carried off but by ftrong evacuations, and 
 yet none of thefe things fall to our lot. 
 
 //. Why, truly, fo far J own there is fomo 
 truth in what you fay. 
 
 Serp. Now fee how differently, out of 
 pure affection, me has dealt with us ! We 
 have no unruly appetites to crave what is not 
 proper for us. We never exceed in quanti- 
 ty; neither have we art enough to vary our 
 food, or to make fuch fallacious mixtures, 
 as (hall provoke defire where there is nq 
 hunger. Don't you obferve farther, that in 
 order to allure you effectually to your de-? 
 ftruction, you are ternpted to mix with your 
 food fuch things as are properly the objects 
 of another fenfe, the fmell ? I mean the per- 
 fumes you make ufe of as ingredients in your 
 compofitions : of which, that you may not 
 be top proud, give me leave to tell you, that 
 they are no very cleanly part of feme of us. 
 Whereas we find no pleafure from that fenfe 
 but what our meat yields, and that only as 
 long as we are eating juft enough for our 
 fupport. 
 
 Ui. The
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 39 
 
 UL The reafon of this feems to be, that 
 as man has a larger quantity of brain than 
 any animal, in proportion to his fize, and 
 that you know is naturally of a cold tem- 
 perament; me has put it in our power to in- 
 vigorate and warm it by perfumes, which 
 have a hot quality, in order to affift her in 
 performing the functions of the internal 
 fenfes, for the fervice of the underftanding. 
 And much obliged to her we are for this ad- 
 vantage which (lie has given us over you, 
 who are infenfible of any delight from o- 
 dours, but what fleam immediately from 
 your food. 
 
 Serp. Shall I tell you the plain truth? 
 Why then it is yet a doubtful point with me, 
 whether your excellency that way be a Teal 
 advantage or a misfortune to you, there be- 
 ing fo many bad fmells to- be met with for 
 one good one. Or perhaps perfumes, after 
 all, may not be improper for thofe who fill 
 themfelves with grofs humours, that mull 
 produce orTeniive fmells. Another argument 
 of the debility of your make, fubjecT:, nay 
 doomed, as I faid, to fo many infirmities, 
 that are not fo much as known to us j they 
 reckon up, I think, above fifty different dif- 
 orders incident to the eyes alone. 
 
 D 4 W. Allow-
 
 40 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 Uj. Allowing it, yet we have the means 
 at hand to remedy them all. 
 
 &erp. Pray from whence ? 
 
 1/7. From phyfick ; and for the truth of 
 this I appeal to yourfelf as a proper judge in 
 the cafe, being, as you profefs, one of the 
 faculty. 
 
 Serf. This is the point I have been la- 
 bouring to bring you to ; becaufe in this I 
 eileem mankind the moft unhappy race upon 
 the earth. 
 
 UL You'll tell us why too, I hope. 
 
 Serp. Becaufe I am firmly of opinion, that 
 phyfick does much more harm than good in the 
 world. Nor is this my private opinion alone, 
 the whole world feems in a great meafure to 
 give into it. You know there are whole 
 ftates in Greece, that have both banimed the 
 doctors, and put down their trade. 
 
 VI. Why fo? can you deny that phyfick 
 is one of the feven liberal arts ; that it has 
 truth for it's object, and the benefit of man-* 
 kind for it's end? This you muft allow, un 
 lefs you are apt to decry what perhaps you 
 never underftood. It being very common, 
 when people are ignorant of a thing, to pre- 
 tend that it is not, to be known j by which 
 they in fome meafure bring others down to 
 a level with themfejves. Serf.
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 41 
 
 Serp. I mall not go about to deny it to be 
 an art, real, beneficial, and worthy of all 
 efteem. Neither (hall I diflemble that I was 
 ignorant in the art, in the fame fenfe that 
 the reft of my brethren of the faculty were. 
 But as far as it is to be underftood, my fkill 
 was fo great, and my reputation fo well efta- 
 blifhed, that I was always named with the 
 firft Phyficians in all Greece. You yourfelf 
 (hall be my witnefs, who could not but have 
 heard a thoufand times of the famed jigeji- 
 mus of Lejbos. 
 
 VI. Art thou that famous Lejbian ? And 
 .art thou Agefimus, or mail we fpeak more 
 properly, and call thee his ghoft? 
 
 Serp. I am the very he. You muft know 
 then that I embarqued for the fake of travel- 
 ling, and in my voyage arriving at this ifland, 
 with the whole crew, was transformed as you 
 now fee me. 
 
 Ul. Then let me blefs the fortunate ren- 
 counter, that gives me an opportunity of 
 converfing with a perfon whofe fame is yet 
 fo frem amongft his countrymen. Why this 
 will indeed fecure my welcome to the Greeks, 
 that I have been able to recover to them a 
 man of fuch confequence, 
 
 Serp. You
 
 42 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 Serp. You talked of reafoning clofely, but 
 are wander'd very wide of it : But to pre- 
 vent all fuch interruption, I declare before- 
 hand, that I will never confent to your pro- 
 pofal. And that you may fee I have not 
 taken up this refolution rafhly, to refume 
 our difcourfe, I aflert, that phyfic may be 
 confidered two ways. Firft, as a fcience ; 
 and as fuch it is undoubtedly certain and con- 
 clufive; becaufe fhe is converfant only about 
 univerfals, whofe effences being eternal and 
 immutable, they can never deceive us in 
 drawing confequences. And this being the 
 knowledge of things by the relations they 
 ftand in, it is juftly called a fcience, as be- 
 ing an objecl: of fpeculation, whofe fole and 
 ultimate end is to lead to the truth. In this 
 light many may be faid to underftand phy- 
 fic 5 and I myfelf will venture to profefs 
 that J knew my fhare of it. But it may 
 alfo be conlidered as an art ; now all arts be- 
 ing, as you know, grounded upon expe^ 
 rience, as fuch it is very fallacious. And 
 that it is fo t the phyficians themfelves are 
 ready to allow, when they tell us, that even 
 experiments * themfelves, in this art, aro 
 
 * This feenis to be the right fenfe of that aphorifm of 
 Hipocrates, y el ort^a er^aX^ij. 
 
 very
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 4 3 
 very deceitful. This then is of the active 
 kind, which has practice for it's end, and 
 particulars for it's object. And here our 
 knowledge comes very fhort, as every day's 
 experience abundantly proves. 
 
 UL If you were fo ignorant in the practical 
 part, to what do you impute your own vaft 
 reputation ? 
 
 Serf. To the folly of other people j for, 
 let me tell you, men feldom mind what you, 
 do, if you have but art enough to impofe 
 upon them by what you fay. 
 
 C/7. Well! furely mankind is under the 
 fatality of being very fhort-fighted, in things 
 that concern them moft. 
 
 Serf. And above all things, fo, in what 
 concerns their health, through the immode- 
 rate defire of living on. This I think is 
 evident from their rewarding our blunders, 
 which they would punifti in any other fet of 
 men. And thofe too are fo notorious, and 
 fo monftrous, that it would be bad for us, 
 fays a wife man, if the earth were not al- 
 ways ready to cover our miftakes. I think 
 they tell ye of the fame philofopher, that 
 being afked one day how he came to enjoy 
 fo uninterrupted a ftate of health? Becaufe, 
 fays he, / new r hire a Phvfician to d?ftroy it. 
 
 V!. That
 
 44 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 UL That other great countryman of ours 
 was exactly in the fame way of thinking, 
 who ufed to fay, that A good DoEtor never 
 phyfaks hintfelf. 
 
 Serp. Well; but go on, let us hear that 
 other wife obfervatibn of his. 
 
 177. Which do you mean? 
 
 Serp. That A good advocate is never fond 
 of ftanding a law-fuit. But, what is ftill 
 worfe, in order to keep up the reputation of 
 the farce, they will pretend that they really 
 do take phyfic themfelves. So you mail fee 
 them go very formally to the apothecaries, 
 and prefcribe for themfelves j after that, all 
 the world may fee it carried very gravely to 
 their houfes; but they'll take care that no 
 body fhall fee them throw it out of the win- 
 dow: and this has been pradifed to my 
 knowledge. 
 
 Ul. As for that, I am not at all furprized, 
 fince our whole life is nothing but the cir- 
 culation of thofe tricks that each man plays 
 upon another. 
 
 Serp. True; and then you may be fure, 
 that men will take care to, lay on thofe 
 cheats the thickeft, the belief of which 
 brings moil profit to the actors. 
 
 Ul You
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Serpent. 45 
 
 1/7. You fee therefore, and indeed the 
 obfervation is very old, that the confidence 
 which the patient has in his Phyfician, very 
 often does him more fervice than the pre- 
 fcription : Now he that knows beft how to 
 impofe upon him, will always gain moft 
 confidence. 
 
 Serp. I myfelf am an inftance of it j and 
 know, that a glib perfuafive knack of talk- 
 ing, efpecially among the ladies, (whofe good 
 word raifes more Doctors than their {kill) got 
 me the reputation you are pleafed to compli- 
 ment me with. But to return ; you fee they 
 have not a clear notion of what they are 
 about, becaufe you find them frequently 
 huddling together many remedies for one fin- 
 gle complaint. 
 
 UL No! why I thought their putting 
 many ingredients together, was a proof of 
 their greater knowledge in the art. 
 
 Serf. Quite the reverfe; becaufe he that 
 gives many medicines for one diforder, de^- 
 monflrates that he does not know it's true 
 proper fpecifick. For as all effects are pro- 
 duced from one fimple principle naturally, 
 though the like may proceed from the con- 
 currence of many caufes accidentally, (as heat, 
 for example, is the natural effecl: of fire, 
 
 though
 
 46 DIALOGUE It 
 
 though it may be produced accidentally from 
 the friction of folids, the fermentation of 
 fluids, or the like) thus every illnefs has it's 
 proper remedy, which he that knows will 
 infallibly cure. So that when you fee a Phy- 
 fician loading his patient with many reme- 
 dies, you may fafely fay, that man does not 
 know the true one, but is feeling about for 
 it, and if he has luck on his fide, for ought 
 I know, he may hit on it. 
 
 VI. Aren't we then in a bleffed condition 
 when we fall into your hands ? 
 
 Serp. You fee how it is ; and therefore? 
 many will tell you, 'tis better depending up* 
 on a lucky Phy fician than a learned one. 
 
 UI. What do you mean by a lucky Phy- 
 fician ? 
 
 Serp. One that fends the major part of his 
 patients well out of his hands. For that 
 man properly may be called a lucky man, 
 that has had fuccefs in the major part of his 
 actions. Nay if the numbers are equal, OF 
 only pretty near upon a balance, I think he 
 may be faid to be of the fortunate fide. Be- 
 caufe, as I faid, the application of univerfals 
 to particulars is fo very nice a thing, that the 
 patient, as well as the Doctor, muft have 
 good luck if he does no mifchief. 
 
 Ul. What
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent* 47 
 
 VI. What a fcene have we here opened 
 againft mankind, and their avarice; which 
 prompts them, for the fake of a little gain, 
 to undertake they know not what? 
 
 Serp. Right; but for much more againft 
 Nature, that has be,en fo careful of us, and 
 fo negligent of you, by giving you a delicate 
 conftitution with an irregular appetite, and 
 to finim all, has inftrudted you in the art of 
 phyfic, which, upon the footing it now is, 
 I affirm again, does much more harm than 
 good in the world. 
 
 //. But how has Nature provided better 
 for you in this point? 
 
 Serp. Both by a firm texture, and regular 
 inclinations ; which have not fo much as the 
 leaft hankering after what may be pernicious 
 to us. And then againft accidents has furnimed 
 us with a much more certain rule for the re- 
 covery of loft health. 
 
 Ul. This is fo very extraordinary a pofi- 
 tion, that I hope you can prove it better than 
 by a bare aflertion. 
 
 Serp. As for the goodnefs and ftrength of 
 our make 'tis fo obvious, that I fhall not take 
 up your time by infifting on it. Then to 
 fhew how orderly our appetites are, con- 
 fider, pray, firft the fimple nature of our 
 
 diet,
 
 48 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 diet, and that you mall never fee one of u3 
 difcover the leaft inclination but to the very 
 food calculated for us : Nor to that neither, 
 but in fuch quantities as are neceffary for our 
 fupport. Whereas with you the whole is 
 reverfed; you are fupplied with an infinite 
 variety of eatables, and all bad for you ; then 
 as to the quantity, when you are thoroughly 
 pleafed, you know no bounds but the power 
 of eating no more. 
 
 VI. In this I grant you have the advan- 
 tage of us. 
 
 Serp. What fhall I fay as to liquors? that 
 whilft we never exceed the quantity abfo- 
 lutely necefTary to life, you give yourfelves 
 up in fo diflblute a manner to the pleafurcs 
 of wine, that befides the fcandal of drunk- 
 ennefs, you may afcribe to it a thoufand dif- 
 ferent diftempers. 
 
 1/7. This is a fubjecl: that I fancy you had 
 better drop; becaufe Nature has herein ma- 
 nifeftly given us the preference, fince it was 
 for us alone me provided that precious li- 
 quor. 
 
 Serp. I allow it, if me at the fame time 
 had given you proper limitations in the ap- 
 plication ; but upon the prefent eftablimment, 
 'tis juft like the grant of a thing much more 
 
 likely
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 49 
 likely to do harm than good, to one that 
 has neither difcretion nor temper in the ufe 
 of it. 
 
 UJ. You may rail 'till you are tired againft 
 wine, without making me a convert. 
 
 Serf. Your gallantry is flill more fatal 
 t'ye : How many deaths may we impute to 
 it? Whilft Nature is too fond to leave us in 
 this refpect without reftraint. Our times for 
 purfuing it are ftated, and thofe too with a 
 due regard to our own health, and a proper 
 leafon for the education of our young. 
 
 Ul. Are there none then amongft you un- 
 der the perpetual influence of this paflion ? 
 
 Serp. If there are any, 'tis only fuch as 
 you have adopted into your fervice, and in- 
 ftru&ed in your own manners. For your 
 domeftick animals are the greateft breeders. 
 But let us pafs to the next topick of fo much 
 account in the fcheme of health, and con- 
 fider a little the nature of the air. The 
 quality of which is of fo great importance, 
 aS our bodies are filled with it in every act of 
 breathing. Now where did you ever find 
 one of us in a climate improper for us, un- 
 lefs we have been forced thither by fome of 
 you. Whilft out of avarice, or a hundred 
 other motives, you quit the place defigned 
 E for
 
 5 o D I ALOGU E II. 
 
 for you to catch your deaths in a foreign 
 region. 
 
 UL This is not to be denied. 
 
 Serp. As for fleep, diet, and the other 
 necefTaries of life, 1 mall avoid fpeaking to 
 them, becaufe I know you are already con- 
 vinced that you don't endeavour to make 
 a proper ufe of them; which depends nei- 
 ther upon art or fancy. Whilft we who fol- 
 low Nature in them all are from thence, 
 you fee, UlyJ/es, fubjecl: to fo few infirmities, 
 and even for thofe few that are incident to 
 us, we are each of ourfelves directed to it's 
 proper cure. 
 
 UL And is this certain? 
 
 Serp. As certain as fate : And this fingle 
 point is fufficient to determine the difpute 
 before us. Since each fpecies of animals is 
 inftrucled in a cure for the diftempers to 
 which it is liable. And that not only the 
 fpecies, but each individual in it. 
 
 UL I proteft now you make me flare. 
 
 Serp. If it feems fo ft range to ye, I 
 would not have you reft fatisned with my 
 bare word for it. Let us begin to examine 
 at home, and you will find amongft us fcr- 
 pents, that each of the kind, as foon as a- 
 waken'd by the fpring, perceiving his {kin 
 
 ftarky
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and tie Serpent. 51 
 
 ftarky and rivelled, by lying the whole win- 
 ter folded up in one pofition, makes directly 
 to the finochio, and crams himfelf with it, 
 till it makes him with eafe caft his old flough* 
 When our light is impaired; we have imme- 
 diate recourfe to the fa me plant , which pre- 
 ferves in us fuch a ftrength of vifion, Have 
 not the lizards recourfe to a certain herb, 
 with which they cure themfelves when flung 
 by one of us? The wounded *ftag flies im- 
 mediately to the dittany : And when bit 
 by the phalangiitm, which is a very veno- 
 mous kind of fpider, they know how to cure 
 themfelves with -f- crawfifli. The fwaU 
 lows || when they perceive a humour coming 
 
 * This is generally faid of the wild goat : So Virgi jEneld. 
 XII. 412. 
 
 Nan ilia feris incognita Cafris 
 Qramjnff. cum tergo -value yes beef ere fagiit&i 
 
 Tbeepbraftus, Plutarch, and Cicero fay the fame thing. So/us 
 Plinius hanc proprietatcm Cer-vis ftfcribit ait Camerarius . 
 
 \ This renicJy feems to lye fo little in the itag's way, 
 that to juiHfy him, it may be ncceflary to (hew that Qppiait 
 fays the fame thing, Cc'rvos ita affecto; fluvids petere, ibi can* 
 cellos comcdantei fibi MtdiciHAm fdtire. What itrcngth does it 
 give to the comparifon, if we kippofe the PfalmiiVs Hart un- 
 der thefe circumftances, (hji/iing the water breaks, viS. by 
 Nature hot, burnt up by a thirll from the climate, the fea- 
 ion, and the foil, inflamed by invenomed wounds, and im- 
 pelled by inftinft to feck a curej as well as hurried by appe- 
 tite to find a rdpite to his agonies ? 
 
 || Celandine, called Hintndinaria, quiet ftilicei birundincs 
 k;iw; herluf futSQ iddii medcritur. Skin. Didt. Etym. 
 
 2 in
 
 52 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 in the eyes of their young ones, know how 
 to cure them by celandine. The tortoife cures 
 our bite with hemlock. The J weafel, be- 
 fore he enters the lift with the rat, fortifies 
 himfelf with rue for the combat. The flork 
 recovers himfelf with origanum j the wild 
 boar with ivy. Does not the elephant de- 
 fend himfelf againft the poifon of the came- 
 leon with olive leaves ? The bear makes ufe 
 of ants to roufe him, after having eaten 
 greedily of your fleepy mandrakes. The 
 rock pigeon, blackbird, and partridge, purge 
 themfelves with laurel j the tame dove-turtle, 
 and the hen with chick weed. The dog and 
 the cat make themfelves foluble by fwallowing 
 quitch-grafs fopped in dew. But not to tire 
 you with too much natural hiftory, fingle 
 out what fpecies of animals you pleafe, and 
 you mail find them fupplied with the {kill to 
 remedy the particular difeafe to which they 
 are fubje6t. Nor is this knowledge given to 
 whole focieties, but to each individual con- 
 tained under them ; fo that we are faved the 
 pains of learning our art from others, are 
 
 J Thefe are Arijlotlis words, only the fcrpent is put in- 
 ftead of the rat. Arijl. Lib. IX. Hi/}. Anim. Cap. VI. 
 
 Muftcla <vero quoties dimicatura cum ferpente, rut am corn- 
 edit. 
 
 2 never
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 53 
 
 never puzzled with doubtful cafes, and are 
 prevented from the expence, which you 
 wretches are at of feeing him that puts you 
 to death. And perhaps at the fame time 
 you are not fenfible that you think, the more 
 you give your Doctor the better j and that 
 you take care that the fees mall be prefented 
 in the choiceft pieces* you can colle6l, 
 
 UL Not every one, dear Serpent; but I 
 fuppofe you have your fools too as well 
 as we. 
 
 Serp. No, Sir, take it for granted there 
 is none of us, (though fome may be more 
 ready or fubtle than others) without the in- 
 telligence proper to our fpecies. Whereas 
 with you, if every madman fliould wear a 
 white bonnet, you would meet, I am afraid, 
 but with very few black ones -j~. 
 
 U7. Perhaps thofe whom you call mad- 
 men, are the wifeft as well as the happieft 
 people we meet with, Which puts me in 
 mind of one who, after the recovery of his 
 right fenfes, was afked by a Lady for the 
 receipt, for a fon of hers, who was in the 
 fame way ; but he begged to be excufed, for 
 
 * This muft allude to the Virtuofi at that time making 
 ftions of rare pieces. 
 Literally, You ivwld hob like a. flock of geefe. 
 
 E 3 that
 
 54 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 that he would not do the young gentleman 
 fo great an injury as to rob him of his dif- 
 temper. Which proved that he never thought 
 himfelf fo happy as in that interval,, 
 
 Serp. And what could be his reafon for 
 thinking fo, unlefs that he found himfelf 
 then free from thofe reflections that embitter 
 human life, and aggravate it's misfortunes ? 
 
 Ul. This is what I {hall not now difpute 
 with you. But to return to our argument ; 
 if you have really fewer infirmities, it is be- 
 caufe your lives are fhorter, and that kfelf 
 is a melancholy reafon - } a miferable fecurity 
 from misfortunes. 
 
 Serp. It may be deemed fo to us indeed, 
 who have every necefTary provided, every in- 
 firmity cured, every grief banifhed, and every 
 paffion fubdued to our hands. But the fear 
 of death with us is very light, being never 
 anticipated, as it is with you, by thoughts 
 about it. Nor are we acquainted with the 
 mighty lofs of falling into nothing. Whereas 
 to you, fhortnefs of life ought to be efteemed 
 a real bleffing, to whom longevity muft im* 
 ply a longer ftruggle with difeafes, and where 
 to lengthen out days muft be to multiply for^ 
 rows. Every fit of the head-ach alarms 
 your apprehenfions of death j fo that every 
 
 bodily
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 55 
 bodily diforder raifes a more acute one in the 
 mind. For which reafon fome have averted, 
 that " yours cannot fo properly be called life, 
 " as a continuation of the fear of death." 
 
 Ul. Thefe are words. 
 
 Serp. Nay, fome who have more feverely 
 animadverted upon your condition, have 
 pronounced, that " it is better never to have 
 <c been born ; but that thofe are in the next 
 ct degree of happinefs who expire in their 
 <{ fwaddling bands." How many, from the 
 like reflections, to free themfelves from fo 
 great a train of ills, have with their own 
 hands forced a way to death. A thought fo 
 full of horror, that it has never yet found ad- 
 mittance with one of us ! 
 
 VI. Some poor fpirited wretches, who 
 have neither the fkill to prevent calamities, 
 nor the courage to endure them. But for 
 one of thefe you'll find a million fhrinking 
 at the thoughts of death. 
 
 Serp. That's very true ; and do you know 
 the reafon of it ? 
 
 VI. What is it, pray ? 
 
 Serp. The fear of falling into a yet more 
 
 miferable eftater after it ; which is a panick 
 
 early and deeply imprefled, from the defcrip- 
 
 tions in your writers, of I know not what 
 
 E 4 regions
 
 5 6 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 regions of Pluto ; where there are endleft, 
 torments prepared for thofe who, to gratify 
 defire, dare to tranfgrefs the line of reafon. 
 Concerns that never trouble us ! But could 
 men once be brought to believe, that the 
 fame flroke would put an end to life and 
 forrow, each day would prefent you with 
 fcenes Shocking to human nature. So many 
 there are among you that are miferable yet 
 bear with life j fo few that are -happy and 
 enjoy it. 
 
 U7. I perceive now, Agefimus y that fo 
 much obftinacy is incapable of being con- 
 vinced, and therefore think it high time to 
 drop the difpute. Especially fince by what 
 lift efcaped you, you mufl be void of rea- 
 fon, becaufe you grow fceptical in Reli- 
 gion : Which may perhaps be proper enough 
 fpr a brute as you are, and fo I pity you. 
 And as you are my countryman, I make you 
 flill the offer of the favour Circe has granted 
 me, of recalling you to manhood, and of 
 conveying you to Greece. 
 
 Serf. I refufe it now ; and may all 
 that's powerful defend me ever from accept- 
 ing it. 
 
 \Jl. Js it poffible then, that you can be fo 
 infenftble of your miferable and {lefpicable 
 
 flate?
 
 Uly ffes, Circe, and the Serpent. 5 7 
 
 ftate ? and that you are the animal of the 
 world mofl abhorred by men * ? 
 
 Serp. That's one of the greateft comforts 
 we have. The love that you men bear to 
 any animal is always for your own fakes, and 
 for the ufe you can make of it. 
 
 VI. However it is evident, in your holes 
 and caverns, you fleep away the major part 
 of your time, without any pleafure. 
 
 Serp. So do you too, friend, and let me 
 tell you, not half fo pleafantly as we do. 
 
 VI. Strange! to hear one bragging how 
 well he fares, whofe entertainment is duft, 
 or elfe fome forry reptile ; and whofe choiceft 
 liquor is water. 
 
 Serp. What does that prove, if we delire 
 no better? 
 
 VI. Not to mention the unfettled ftate of 
 your brain, which muft always be, where 
 the ideas are fo confufed, and the imagina- 
 tion fo giddy. 
 
 Serp. Ay ! what do you know of that ? 
 
 VI. What I know is from my obfervation 
 of you animals, whofe progreflive motion is 
 performed by flicking the fcales of your fore- 
 part into the ground, and fo by gathering 
 
 * Angue magis odiofum, was a Latin proverb. 
 
 your
 
 58 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 your hinder parts up to it. Now what I ob- 
 ferve is, that when you find any obftacle ia 
 your way, you take a quite different rout, 
 without any regard to the road you fet out in. 
 What can this be owing to, but a confufed 
 head, and a memory morter than that of a 
 gnat. Hence I conclude, that you are ne- 
 ver determined to any certain point, but are 
 wholly directed by Chance. 
 
 Serp. I fhould have a confufed head in- 
 deed, if from a ilate of happinefs and eafe 
 r mould con fen t to turn man again, whom 
 I know to be entirely governed by caprice 
 and whim. And as for my memory, that 
 muft be much fhorter than it is, before I a- 
 gree to revert to a (late fo full of complaints 
 and afflictions. Not to fatigue you then any 
 longer, I can never bring myfelf to accept 
 ef a favour that muft fubmit me to fo many 
 infirmities, and caufe me to be haunted with 
 fo many defires, that may not with fafety be 
 gratified : Where every little excefs is repaid 
 with innumerable diforders; and what is the 
 worft of it, where one muft be baited with 
 the perpetual fears of death, and yet live 
 every moment in danger of it. Let me not 
 therefore detain you, while I indulge a little 
 in rubbing my {kin, in order to preferve it 
 
 clean
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Serpent. 59 
 
 clean and fupple, againft yond juniper tree. 
 A fenfation not to be equalled by any that I 
 can recoiled: in your ftate; becaufe I find 
 the pleafure pure, and without allay, where- 
 as with you, the fweet is fo mixed with the 
 bitter, that the latter is by far the moft pre- 
 dominant, and leaves a more lafHng impref- 
 fion. So that it has been rightly obferved, 
 that " a thoufand enjoyments are not a re- 
 " compence for one pain.'* Exit. 
 
 VI. Well ! at length I am convinced, that 
 I have been converfing with what, after all, 
 are but brutes, endued with the power of 
 fpeech without judgment, which makes them 
 overlook principal points to dwell on trifles. 
 However, I'll not defifl from my glorious 
 enterprize, but find the Goddefs out, to pre- 
 fent me to fome that are worthy of the of- 
 fer. For as the proverb has it, Ton may 
 eafily do a perfon an injury againft his incli- 
 nation, but it ts very difficult to ferve him 
 againft his will. Exit. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 60 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 C J R G E. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELU, 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hare. 
 
 \Jlyffes. I had not been favoured 
 
 with unqueftionable proofs 
 of Circe's love, I muft 
 own I (hould fufped: the 
 Goddefs was neither willing to grant my re. 
 queft, nor yet inclined flatly to deny it ; and 
 therefore had chofen to amufe me, by pre- 
 fenting only fuch as me knew were invinci- 
 
 bly
 
 Uly ffes, Circe, and the Hare. 6 1 
 bly bent againft this change, that finding 
 thefe beyond all powers of perfuafion, I 
 fhould through mere defpair defift from the 
 attempt. 
 
 Circe. Let not Ufyffes entertain a thought 
 fo unworthy of my love to him, or the re- 
 fpect I owe to the dignity of my own mind, 
 which abhors a trick. Though you know 
 one may, without cruelty, be a little fhy in 
 granting a favour. 
 
 UI. Right: But you put me upon dif- 
 puting with the moft obftinate of all wretch- 
 es ; when I made him the offer of reftoring 
 him to his fhape, and of conducting him to 
 Greece , he looked upon me through the pre- 
 judice of his perverienefs, as if I intended 
 him a real injury, and remonftrated vehe- 
 mently how great a fufFerer he mould be by 
 the change. 
 
 Circe. As you would have done yourfelf, 
 had you been in his cafe. 
 
 Ul. When he was a man, it is true, he 
 was a practitioner in phyfick, and thofe you 
 know are converfant with little elfe but mi- 
 feries, and complaints, noifomnefs, and in- 
 firmity, fighs, and groans ; of which retain- 
 ing ftill a lively idea, (for what offends makes 
 a more lading impreflion than what pleafes 
 
 us)
 
 62 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 us) he is mocked at the thoughts of return- 
 ing to fo difagreeable a {rate. 
 
 Circe. The cafe is general; misfortunes 
 and complaints every where abound ; con- 
 tentment and happinefs are great rarities. 
 
 Ul. Then he was not fo wife a man as 
 he is taken for, that, amongft the bleffings 
 for which he daily offered up his thanks to 
 Heaven, never omitted to praife the Gods, 
 that he was formed a man and not a brute. 
 
 Circe. He did it in compliance with the 
 opinion prevailing amongft men, drawn from 
 abftracted and tedious confequences. Where- 
 as furely thefe people are to be looked upon 
 as the beft judges, who having experienced 
 both conditions, have fenfible demonftration 
 for their evidence ; which is not only the 
 moft excellent, and lefs liable to error, than 
 any other degrees of aflurance, but the very 
 ground and balls of all knowledge. 
 
 Ul. I grant it j if the fenfes of mere ani- 
 mals were to be compared to ours, whereas 
 they are much lefs perfect. 
 
 Circe. Of which I don't believe one word, 
 becaufe J find many of them excelling you 
 in each. 
 
 Ul. It is undeniable, that fome have a 
 particular fcnfe more exquiftte, as the fight 
 
 of
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, andtbeHare. 63, 
 
 of the Eagle, the fmell of the Dog, and the 
 hearing of the Goofe, plainly (hew. Bat 
 we furpafs them as much in our judgment 
 upon fenfible objects, by having the common: 
 Senfory more perfect j fo that we draw juft- 
 er confequences, and are better qualified to 
 compare the reprefentation of one fenfe and 
 that of another. But come on let us try 
 
 once more. Sure all cannot be fo far 
 
 loft to reafon as thefe three firft, who were 
 defervedly turned into fuch forry animals, 
 that their fhape might match their under- 
 ftandings. 
 
 Circe. I agree : You mall difcourfe with that 
 Hare, which you fee grazing in the (hade of 
 yon oak : Make up to her, and challenge 
 her from me, that me enjoys the power of 
 Speech. 
 
 I//. Hare ; fo may the Gods receive thy 
 petitions as thou attended to mine, which is, 
 that thou wouldft ftay and anfwer me, as 
 Circe fays thou canft. 
 
 Hare. Alas, what can this mean? And 
 do I hear the founds of human language ? 
 and underftand them too ? Oh ! ye cruel 
 Fates, why have you dragged me back to. fo 
 much mifery? 
 
 UL Call'ft
 
 64 DIALOGUE III 
 
 VI. Call'ft thou it mifery to understand 
 the fpeech of men ? 
 
 Hare. Ay, mifery and unhappinefs itfelf 
 unlefs their nature has undergone a thorough 
 change fince I was of the fpecies. 
 
 VI. Why fo? 
 
 Hare. Becaufe from every quarter my 
 ears were pierced with moans and mutual 
 complaints. 
 
 VI. (ajide) Now have I fled into the jaws 
 of Sc ilia to take refuge from Charybdis. The 
 Phyfician, from his calling, converfed with 
 few befides the diftrefTed and unhappy, and 
 this, as far as I can guefs, with none but the 
 melancholy or mad. 
 
 Hare. This, as I was faying, made fo 
 ftrong an impreflion upon me, that I would 
 a thoufand times have fled into the woods, 
 far from all prints of human footfteps, had 
 it been confident with my nature, without 
 fuffering the greateft difficulties, to fubfift in 
 a place of folitude. 
 
 VI. But have not other animals their 
 complaints, and their manner of exprefling 
 them too ? 
 
 Hare . They have : And when any of our 
 own fpecies have a particular paffion to dif- 
 cover, we underftand the founds that are 
 
 affixed
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hare. 65 
 
 affixed to it. As it is natural to every crea- 
 ture, by a variation of figns, to explain their 
 grief or joys ; but then thefe different modu- 
 lations only fignify the affection in general : 
 now this is much more tolerable than your 
 human way, which befide the piteous man- 
 ner of expreffing yourfelvesj with fighs, 
 groans, and melancholy accents, exaggerat- 
 ing your own miferies^ communicate them 
 to thofe that hear them. For my own part^ 
 betides thefe infectious lamentations, I can 
 charge my memory with little elle but rela- 
 tions of murders, treafons, robberies, and 
 affaffmations, perpetrated by one wretch up- 
 on another, fo that I can fafely fay; I fuf- 
 fered more by the imprefficns made upon mes 
 from without, than from any forrow fpring- 
 ing originally in my own mind. 
 
 Ul. Pray (unlefs you have any objection) 
 tell me what might be your implcyment 
 when you was a man ? 
 
 Hare. Why, to tell you the truth, I al- 
 tered my condition fo often, that I cannot 
 directly anfwer you. But what may be your 
 reafon for afking that queftion ? 
 
 UL The natural love I mail ever bear my 
 
 countrymen. It was this put me upon fo- 
 
 liciting the Goddefs of the ifland, to reftore 
 
 F ta
 
 66 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 to human {hape all the Greeks that fojourn 
 here, and learning from her that you was 
 one, I here make you a free offer of the boon, 
 being myfelf a Greek, and rny name UlyJJes. 
 
 Hare. To me ! oh never, never, whilft I 
 have any choice left. 
 
 TJl. But why ? Is it not better to be a man 
 than a favage creature ? 
 
 Hare. I anfwer from my own knowledge 
 in the negative. 
 
 UL But are you really ferious? and are 
 determined to let life take it's courfe in this 
 fame fhape ? 
 
 Hare. Even fo ; becaufe as I am, I am 
 contented and eafy in my way, which when 
 a man I never found myfelf to be. 
 
 UL This might be your own fault, by 
 being perhaps too unreafonable to be content 
 . with any thing. 
 
 Hare. I mould fufpeft as much myfelf, 
 if I had feen any perfon in any ftation what- 
 ^bever, (and my acquaintance was general) 
 whom I found perfectly contented ! But to 
 reafon upon the cafe, How is it poffible any 
 man can be perfectly eafy ? For either it is 
 his lot to be loaded with the care of govern- 
 ing other people, or his fate not to have the 
 government of himfelf. 
 
 i UL In
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hare. 67 
 
 TJL In either of which fituations I aflert, 
 that with a little prudence, a perfon may be 
 very happy. 
 
 Hare. I roundly deny that he can be fo 
 in either. If he be a Prince or Governor, if 
 he endeavours to difcharge the duties of his 
 office, it is impoffible he mould have an hour's 
 eafe. He is the butt of all plots and confpi- 
 racies, which he has reafon enough to fear, 
 perpetually fpringing up out of the envy that 
 is the attendant on his ftation. The Prince 
 within his diftrict reprefents the great and 
 good Governor of the Univerfe, whofe care 
 extends itfelf to all things : So that the faying 
 is true enough, that " his fubjects ileep for 
 ct him;" But what pleafure is referved for 
 his mare ? 
 
 Ul. Pleafures of the mofl exalted kind, to 
 fee nations civilized by his care, and mutually 
 contributing to each other's happinefs j from 
 whence he reaps a harveft of glory and ho- 
 nour, that repays him with immortality. 
 
 Hare. But where are thefe happy creatures 
 to be found ? Only among us, that follow 
 only what Nature directs : Whereas you that 
 go beyond her prefcriptions, find your delires~ 
 impatient and boundlefs. Hence all the train 
 of feditions, tumults, and confpiracies, which 
 F 2 every
 
 68 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 every where fo much abound, that for my 
 own part, I mould prefer a fituation among 
 craggy rocks, in the moft abandoned folitude, 
 inhabited only by the moft favage beaftX be- 
 fore a feat in the befl adminiflered govern- 
 me nt upon earth. 
 
 Ul. But you forget, that under a good and 
 well-governed adminiftration, there is no 
 room for the perturbations you defcribe. 
 
 Hare. And how pray is your peace pre- 
 ferved? Why, fo great is the perverfenefs of 
 human nature, that offenders are reftrained 
 by fuch penalties and tortures, that the Judge 
 who pronounces the fentence, and the fpecla- 
 tor that fees it executed, fufFer little lefs than 
 the malefador. So much the cruelty of your 
 nature exceeds ours, we never quarrel with 
 thofe of our own fpecies, and feldom with 
 thofe of another, unlefs prompted to it by 
 hunger, driven by fear, or forced to it in 
 our own defence. 
 
 VI. Why truly it is not to be denied but 
 that fovereign Princes, as they ought to have 
 the welfare of their fubjects at heart, muft 
 meet with more incidents to difturb than to 
 pleafe them : But as it can fall to the lot of 
 very few men to be Princes, let us rather 
 take in the majority, and confider the ftate 
 
 of
 
 Ulyffcs Circe, and the Hare. 69 
 
 of a private man, who is fuppofed to have 
 few concerns befides thofe for his own fa- 
 mily. 
 
 Hare, The cafe is juft the fame with a 
 private man ; for either he is rich or poor. 
 Riches, as they are acquired by care are ever 
 attended by it; and the fear of lofing them 
 never permits the pofltfTor to enjoy them a 
 moment quietly. Sometimes the apprehen- 
 iions of a war, which time and the courfe 
 of things mufl neceflarily bring on, are the 
 bugbear - 3 one while the wife is in fault, 
 another the children ; to day the fervants, 
 and to morrow the very labourers are vil- 
 lains. In a word, as gold is every body's 
 aim, fo it requires great circumfpeclion to 
 fecure it. If your private man be poor, I 
 mail not take up fo much of your time as 
 a defcription of his mifery would require ; 
 for of all conditions the poor man's is the 
 leaft tolerable. 
 
 UL That is more than I mail readily al- 
 low, becaufe many of our wife men have 
 both wrote in praife of poverty, and ihidi- 
 oufly courted it, by contemning riches, and 
 throwing them away, that they with the lefs 
 interruption might attend upon their fpecu- 
 lations. 
 
 F 3 Hare.
 
 7 o DIALOGUE III. 
 
 Hare. The greateft part of them, I dare 
 anfwer for it, and perhaps all of them, did 
 it out of vanity, to pafs upon the world for 
 fomething great and extraordinary. Befides, 
 there have been inftances of thofe that have 
 thrown away an ounce to get a pound. For 
 it is the way of the world to load you with 
 what you feem to defpife. 
 
 UL You love to hear yourfelf talk. I 
 fay that I have known many a one live con- 
 tentedly in a ftate of poverty -, particularly 
 among the Philofophers. 
 
 Hare. And I allure you they were in the 
 right on't ; it being the only way they had 
 to fecure themfelves from the contempt of 
 the world. Though I am perfuaded the 
 more knowledge a man has, the more im- 
 patient he is of poverty. 
 
 UL Whence mould it proceed ? 
 
 Hare. From reflections on the partiality 
 of Fortune, in denying him the favours 
 which me fcatters with profulion on a thou- 
 fand fools. 
 
 UL You put me in mind of a friend of 
 mine, who ufed to fay, that If is with 
 riches as with a defluxion or catarrh, they 
 generally jail upon the weakeft part. 
 
 Hare,
 
 Uly ffes, Circe, and the Hare. 7 r 
 
 Hare. What aggravates the mifery of their 
 condition is to think, that Nature feems to 
 take a ftep out of her ordinary courie on 
 purpofe to opprefs them. For whereas flie 
 abundantly provides for her whole family, in 
 this her method is reverfed, and one part of 
 it is overwhelmed with fatiety, whilft the 
 other pines in want : And this only from a 
 fault in the difpofition, .where every cne is 
 permitted to take juft as much as he is able, 
 which can never happen to one of us. Be- 
 caufe no one either defires, or indeed can 
 poffefs more of the good things that Nature 
 fupplies him with, than another. 
 
 UI. You are of their opinion I find, who 
 hold that robbery has loft it's name. For 
 the thing ftolen has undergone fo many thefts 
 already, that now all right to it is loft but 
 what pofleffion gives. 
 
 Hare. To clofe the argument : Let this 
 convince you, Sir, that poverty is an vil of 
 the firft rate, fince to avoid it, Men will 
 fubmit even to be fervants one to another. 
 A thing fo ihpcking that there is not amongtT: 
 us an animal fo bale as not to prefer death 
 to a forry fubfiftence fo dearly purchafed, 
 every one being neceflarily his own mafter. 
 
 F 4 UI. Bj
 
 72 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 UL By your leave, there may be other 
 motives befides poverty that may make men 
 content to be flayes j witnefs the great num- 
 fcer of the rich that are fo. 
 
 Hare. Thefe, according to a true eftimate, 
 are the pooreft of all creatures ; labouring 
 under the worft fort of poverty, a poverty 
 of fpirit, or a meannefs of underftanding, 
 which out of an indulgence to a depraved 
 appetite for fame or tides, would be con- 
 tented thus to facrifice their reft. 
 
 UL This cannot be the cafe, becaufe ma-* 
 ny fuch were before that in very happy cir- 
 cumfbmces. 
 
 Hare. Pray who were they ? for I never 
 yet faw the man who could fay either that 
 he wanted nothing, or was not defirous of 
 getting more. Unlefs fome few, who to- 
 wards their latter end have out of fpite en- 
 deavoured to get rid of thpfe riches which 
 coft them fo much pains in their youth, that 
 they thought their death w^s haftened on by 
 them. 
 
 UL Thefe are miftakes in Ji^dgment, not 
 faults in Nature. 
 
 Hare. This feems to me to be the fame 
 thing, fince pernicious miftakes flow from 
 your very nature. Whereas our nature ne-
 
 Ulj'fles, Circe, and the Hare. 7 3 
 
 ver leads us Into any. I remember when I 
 was at the age in which one begins to have 
 fome dawnings of reflection, that being un- 
 der the care of a tutor fet over me by my 
 father, who was a man of fortune and qua- 
 lity in Efplja, as he was instructing me in 
 fome part of the Mathematicks, according to 
 the method of our Greek education, I hit 
 upon a thought, that the mind of man was 
 a meer uninfcribed tablet *, wholly devoid 
 of all ideas but fuch as are imprinted on it. 
 This (ingle reflection, though I had no rea- 
 fon to complain of any unaptnefs in my felf 
 to learn, or feverity from my preceptor in 
 teaching, yet out of a mere reftlefnefs of 
 temper natural to boys, gave me great un- 
 eafinefs, under circumftances in which I 
 lacked nothing to make me happy. 
 
 Ul. I would fain know what conclufion 
 you will draw, from the acts of an under- 
 ftanding which you own to be immature, 
 and confequently, in a ftate of imperfection. 
 
 Hare. Well ; the next alteration in my 
 condition was at the death of my father ; 
 
 * Gelli feems very artfully to infinuate a notion \vh.ich it 
 was not lafe for him to affert, but was referved for our great 
 countryman Mr. Locke to demonftrate, with all that freedom 
 of thought with which he delighted to fubvert the moil ve- 
 nerable errors. 
 
 this
 
 7 4 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 this embroiled me with my brothers, till a 
 proper divifion could be made of his eftate. 
 However, it was fome comfort to be able to 
 fee that there mutt be fome time an end of 
 our q.uarrels, and then the remainder of my 
 life, J refolved, mould be one calm fcene of 
 uninterrupted tranquillity. Which was juft 
 the reverie of what was really my lot. For 
 as my fortune confifled partly of lands, and 
 partly of money, each of thefe brought 
 with them their refpeclive troubles. My 
 lands engaged me with Farmers, and my 
 money involved me with Merchants. And 
 he that mould be in league with a band of 
 Highwaymen, would have to do withhonefler 
 pe.ople than either of them. But though I 
 could find them pretty well agreed, as to the 
 main point of getting all I had to themfelves, 
 yet I could perceive each in his own ftation 
 to be very difccntented. The farmer found 
 fault with the feafons, and the men of bufi- 
 nefs with the times. This complained of 
 his hard luck, and laid the blame both on 
 the Heavens and the Earth. The other en- 
 tertained you with nothing but the cruelty 
 of Fortune, the perils of Voyages, quarrels 
 of Princes, and the deadnefs of Trade. 
 
 W. It
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hare. 75 
 
 UI. It is very true, that each man has his 
 own grievances, and it is as true that each 
 of you has his alfo. 
 
 Hare. But where we meet with one you 
 feel a thoufand. Farther, give me leave to 
 obferve, that the common occurrences of 
 life, to defend one's property ( for all men 
 are cheats, though in different ways) throws 
 you into the hands of an infinite number of 
 tradefmen and lawyers. Now I can't charge 
 my memory, that I ever found one of thefe 
 pleafed with his own circumftances : Becaufe 
 thefe having all the fame view of railing a 
 fortune, lamented their being obliged to be 
 in a perpetual ftate of wrangling and quarrel- 
 ling, which however was neceffary to it. 
 
 Ul. I think he has much more caufe to 
 lament, that has any thing to do with them; 
 as for their part, I fancy they fuffer very 
 little from other people's quarrels, which are 
 their harveft. 
 
 Hare. He that is always plaguing others, 
 can have no peace himfelf. Confider what 
 it muft be, to be hated by thofe that do not 
 employ you, and always fufpected by thofe 
 that do. 
 
 Ul. Right ; and this puts me in mind, 
 that when a queftion was ftarted in one of 
 
 "the
 
 76 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 the fchools, which ought to have the pre- 
 cedence, a Lawyer or a Phyfician ? it was 
 anfwered, that " Cuftom had determined 
 " the point j for that the thief always goes 
 " before the hangman." 
 
 Hare. Tired with the difcontentednefs of 
 thefe people, and defirous of eale myfelf, if 
 there be fuch a thing as peace, faid I, fure, 
 {he muft have taken up her habitation in 
 one of the colleges of our Priefts. Thefe, 
 being feparated from the cares of the world, 
 are acquainted with no other but that of 
 ferving their Gods ; are exempt from the 
 troubles that attend property, by having all 
 things provided for them in common ; and 
 from any political concerns, by being fubjecT: 
 to one of their own order. Charmed with 
 the delightful idea, I refolved to quit the 
 world, to live in peace with them. But alas! 
 a flight acquaintance with their manners con- 
 vinced me, that difcord and unhappinefs were 
 no ftrangers amongft them. For each of 
 them at all adventures afpiring to be their 
 chief, ftuck at nothing to difTerve and under- 
 mine the reft : I foon difcerned likewife 
 with what reluctance they fubmitted to their 
 feveral fubordinations, and the difficulty they 
 found, to maintain themfelves in that efteem 
 
 in
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Hare. 77 
 in the world which is their fupport. Add 
 to this the difagreeablenefs of an inactive re- 
 clufe life, and the labour it requires to per- 
 fuade men, that they are more in the intereft 
 of the Gods, than thofe that ferve the world 
 with only fuch laws as God and Nature gave 
 us. Thefe difagreeable circumftances made 
 me fling my refolutions of retirement fo far 
 from me, that they have never fmce been 
 able to reach me. My next trial was to take 
 upon me the ftate of a Man of Quality, and 
 to fill up my vacant hours with the amufe- 
 ment of hunting, and fuch like diverfions. 
 
 VI. Whoever propofes to find happinefs 
 in that fort of life, and much more in the 
 army, I dare pronounce him, from my own 
 experience, miftaken. 
 
 Hare. As for the army, I had no turn to 
 it ; thinking it abfurd to feek for peace in a 
 ftate of war. Befides, it feemed to me "high- 
 ly ridiculous, when neither the publick good, 
 or one's own private honour, or fome juftifi- 
 able occafion demands it, to fell one's life at 
 any rate. For as we can come but once into 
 the world, I think one would not be bought 
 out of it at fo poor a recompence-, as all the 
 treafure that is already coined, or is breed- 
 ing in the world. Seeing farther, that it 
 
 was
 
 7 8 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 was impoffible to keep up the port or digni- 
 ty of a man of rank without a great num- 
 ber of fervants, who are all in a different 
 intereft from their matter, and are inceilant- 
 ly doing one thing or other to plague him j 
 I threw up all thoughts of that kind of life. 
 At laft, thinking that to ferve a Prince in 
 fome honourable poft would anfwer the end 
 I propofed, I determined, with the fmall a- 
 bilities I was mafter of, to fet out and make 
 an offer of them at Court, where I was as 
 much baulked as in my former fchemes. For 
 befides the fatigues of attendance, and the 
 facrince one rnuft make of time, quiet, and 
 health, the neceffity of bearing with the 
 envy that reigns in Courts, and the ingrati- 
 tude of Princes, which their Minifters would 
 accufe them of, fhould they give them half 
 their kingdom, cofl me many hours of hap- 
 pinefs, and left me very little to make fatis- 
 faction for the want of them. At length, 
 through mere defpair, I refolved to tempt 
 the dangers of the Sea, where good luck 
 threw into my way what I had fo long been 
 in queft of in vain. . For being happily 
 brought to this fortunate ifland, Circe tranf- 
 formed me into what you fee, Sir, a Hare. 
 Which change fhe wrought upon me, by 
 
 fleeping
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, andtheHtre. 79 
 fteeping my faculties in a fweet oblivion ; in 
 which ftate, if it be true that I have fewer 
 ideas than when I was one of you, I am 
 fure I have fewer fears. 
 
 Ul. Ridiculous! to hear the moft ftartlift, 
 timorous of animals boaft of his courage. 
 
 Hare. Againft all of our own fpecies we 
 dare ; which is my fecurity j and a greater 
 than the anger of the Gods has granted 
 you. 
 
 UL Well, allowing that every human 
 condition you have named, abounds with 
 thefe and yet greater cares ; however, I don't 
 find you have any very exquiiite pleafures, in 
 your prefent ftate, to brag of. 
 
 Hare. If you come to that j pray what 
 pleafures do you men enjoy, which are not 
 embittered by the more predominant ingre- 
 dient of trouble? This made one of the old- 
 eft of our Greek poets declare, that " The 
 " pleafure now flourishing in the world is 
 <c not fincerely and genuinely fuch, but for- 
 " row clothed in her robes." 
 
 Ul. How did he make that out? 
 
 Hare. Why, " when the fatal box was 
 ct opened, and Pandora filled the earth with 
 <c unnumber'd evils, Pleafure amongft the 
 " reft took her flight about the world, and' 
 
 " with
 
 So DIALOGUE III. 
 
 c< with her bewitching charms fo engaged 
 <{ mankind, that not one was left to caft up 
 <c a pious thought, or wimful look, towards 
 " Heaven. Enraged at this, the Father of 
 " .the Gods difpatched the Mufes to try if 
 " by their harmony they could allure her up 
 <c to Heaven. But firft they made her quit 
 <c her robe, to qualify her for thofe uncor- 
 " ruptible manfions, where all things appear 
 " in undifguifed purity. Sorrow in that in- 
 4t ftant wandring up and down the earth, 
 " by all munned and hated, took up the 
 " robe, and hoping thus difguifed not to be 
 <c detefted, put it on, and ever fince, in 
 " Pleafure's femblance, has impofed upon 
 " mankind." 
 
 UL What would the old Bard teach us 
 by this ftory ? 
 
 Hare. That thofe things which men take 
 for delights, are in truth . fo many punifh- 
 ments. Which he thus accounts for, that 
 " Sorrow impofes on the world in Pleafure's 
 <c habit, and they never difcover the cheat 
 *' but in the end." Give me leave to men- 
 tion one thing, which all mankind, how 
 different foever in their circumftances, agree 
 to rank among their pleafures, yet I will 
 maintain it to be nothing elfe but mere eflen- 
 l tial
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hare] Sx 
 tial mifery; and that is a hankering after 
 play, or gaming. 
 
 VI. I fancy, Sir, you mean lofingj for 
 there is no harm in playing, they fay $ but 
 lofmg is, I own, a bad thing, 
 
 Hare. They are both bad; though I a- 
 gree with you, that the lofer has generally 
 the worft on't. And if every thing that 
 caufcs violent perturbations in the mind is to 
 be avoided, even to win is not defirable, 
 though it feems to have the advantage in 
 point of profit. If it be faid, that it exalts 
 the mind to a very high extafy of joy : It 
 may be anfwered, that no joy is warrantable 
 but what proceeds from virtuous and juftifi- 
 ablc reflections. And then, even their good 
 luck runs them into fuch extravagancies, that 
 when a man is given up to play, I give him, 
 over for loft and ruined. 
 
 Ul. This I can never come into j becaufe 
 I have known many live this way, who had 
 no other method of fupporting themfelves. 
 
 Hare. Perhaps fo 5 but then I warrant 
 you, it was long after their original flock 
 was funk. For I ufed to think, that play 
 ferves a man of fortune, as ivy does a good 
 wall ; when it has once taken firm root in 
 him, it never leaves him till it brings him 
 G into
 
 82 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 into a ruinous condition j but then it will 
 prop him fo, that he fhan't tumble quite to 
 the ground. Thus when a Gentleman is 
 thoroughly attached to gaming, he'll be ru- 
 ined by it; but then it will keep him from 
 ftarving. Becaufe, by being acquainted with 
 the gamefter's haunts, it gives him an op- 
 portunity, by cringing to every one, and flat- 
 tering the winners, to recommend himfelf 
 to a forty maintenance. Believe me, Sir, 
 the love of play is one of the greateft mis- 
 fortunes that can befal a man, and it feems 
 to me to be a peftilence of fo contagious a 
 nature', as to threaten the whole fpecies. For 
 we fee very considerable parties fo intirely 
 devoted to this infatuation, as profefTedly 
 to renounce for it all honourable employ- 
 ment?, by which they might do their coun- 
 try fervice, and fome particulars fo bewitched 
 by it, as to neglect all thoughts of honour, 
 health, and credit ; all concerns for friends, 
 children, wife, nay even for themfelves, till 
 at laft, by making away every thing that be- 
 longed to them, they are reduced to fo fcan- 
 dalous a ftate of poverty, that they fly from 
 the prefence of a man with greater precipi- 
 tation than we hares do from the fight of a 
 dog ; cfpecially if he chance to be an old 
 
 acquaintance,
 
 Uly-flcs, Circe, and the Hare. 83 
 
 acquaintance, that knew him in the days of 
 his extravagance. And what yet aggravates 
 the mifery, they have ftill a hankering after 
 the delufion that ruined them, and are per- 
 petually cafting about to come at fome fmall 
 trifle to venture, in order to fetch back (as 
 they call it) the reft; for which they are 
 content to deprive themfelves even of necef- 
 fories. That, I think, Ufyfles, a ftrong in- 
 ftance, how fallacious at leaft men's plea- 
 fures may prove to them. 
 
 W. The inference is only from a particu- 
 lar ; betides, I know no obligation that a 
 Man's nature lays upon him, to determine 
 him to this folly. Nor have you named any 
 evils of this kind which a little prudence 
 might not prevent or remedy. 
 
 Hare. True : But with what difficulty ,' 
 in fo corrupt and debauched a ftate of man- 
 kind ? So that I can never perfuade myfelf 
 to exchange a being free from care, for one 
 that is ever embarrafTed ; where I muft have 
 the mortification to fee what Nature gave in 
 common to all, only in the poffeffion of thofe 
 that are mightier than myfelf; to whom I 
 muft be a flave, forfooth, to get a niggardly 
 allowance of what fhe fcattered with a li- 
 beral hand. And to complete all, where 
 G 2 my
 
 4 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 my feeming pleafures are furc to prove real 
 misfortunes. 
 
 177. How impertinent is fo much obftina- 
 cy in fo contemptible an animal ? who knows 
 fo little of himfelf, as not to be fure what 
 fex he is of. 
 
 Hare. It is truer that you> who muft 
 feem to be ignorant of nothing, don't know 
 it. For our own parts, we are fatisfied with 
 our knowledge upon that head. 
 
 1/7. Thou art fo great a coward that eve- 
 ry thing affrights thee : Thy whole truft is 
 in thy feet, and they betray thee to whole 
 fpccies of animals, that are in combination 
 to purfue thee. 
 
 Hare. What is that to me as an indivi- 
 dual, if our whole fpecies be liable to the 
 fame ? 
 
 177. Then your lives are fo precarious, that 
 every flight injury puts an end to them. 
 
 Hare. I beg of you no more j nor endea- 
 vour to fhew me the want of that know- 
 ledge which, if I had, would render me the 
 moft unhappy creature in the world : So pray 
 make your offer where it may be more wel- 
 come, which I afTure you will find no ac- 
 ceptance here. In the mean time, as I al- 
 ways follow the impulfe of Nature, I muft 
 
 obey
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hare. 5 
 
 obey her fummons to the delicious pafturage 
 of the inviting verdure upon yonder rifing 
 grounds. 
 
 W. I muft tell thee, Hare, thou putteft 
 me ftrongly in mind of a fcoundrel, who 
 being caft into prifon for his debts, and find- 
 ing himfelf without any trouble fupported by 
 the goal maintenance, made intereft with 
 his creditors, not to drag him from a place 
 fo agreeable to his indolence. What could 
 this be owing to but the moft abjedl bafe- 
 nefs of mind ? Or who would not prefer a 
 life of liberty, with all it's inconveniency, 
 to the greateft affluence in a coop? For a 
 manly prudence is never fo properly exercifed 
 as in providing againft the accidents to which 
 Nature fubjedls us. So that in thy ftate of 
 manhood, I collect thou muft have been 
 both a mean and unreafonable creature, not 
 to be able to confront the troubles which the 
 World and Fortune throw in our way j and 
 confcquently, loveft the though tleflhefs of a 
 Brute, better than the active wifdom of a 
 Man. So I leave thee to enjoy it, rather 
 than force thee, contrary to thy inclinations, 
 to a change that would prove a fcandal to 
 our fpecies j as every one is, that is bafe c- 
 nough to think like thee. 
 
 G 3 Hare.
 
 86 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 Hare . I could eafily anfwer all this found- 
 ing harangue. But as we are by Nature re- 
 trained from exceeding her demands, 6 are 
 we neceffitated to fatisfy her cravings, when 
 proper food is provided for us. And as that 
 beautiful herbage has ftruck my eye, from 
 the hill that rifes there over-againft us, and 
 I find myfelf hungry, I muft beg to take 
 my leave. 
 
 Exit Hare. 
 
 CIRCE. 

 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 87 
 
 C IRC E. 
 
 Tranllated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Goat. 
 
 ' 
 
 Ufoffes. $jBllJ&jJi& Always thought, illuftrious 
 Queen, that Man differs 
 much from Man, as our 
 Greek proverb has it, but 
 could not have fufpefted the difference to be 
 fo wide, if I had not difputed with the Hare 
 you prefented me to j or to fpeak more pro- 
 perly, with him whom you changed into 
 that fhape. G 4 Circe.
 
 88 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 Circe. Why? Pray has he a mind to be 
 changed back again ? 
 
 177. The fartheft from it in the world : 
 He received my propofal with greater detefta- 
 tion than any of the reft. 
 
 Circe. I hope you are now convinced, 
 how vain your forrow was, that I had thus 
 transformed your friends. 
 
 Ul. No, I aflure you, I lament them 
 more than ever j being more confirmed in 
 my notion, as it is evident to me, that this 
 wretch's cowardice and puullanimity hinders 
 him from difcerning the truth. Would you 
 believe it ! that he was naturally of fo bafe 
 a fpirit, and fo averfe to any little trouble, 
 that he rather chofe to live in the moft ab- 
 ject flavery, void of care, than to enjoy the 
 moft honourable poft, attended with the bu- 
 fmefs that is infeparable from it ? 
 
 Circe. Who told you fo much of him ? 
 177. Himfelf ; by preferring the life of a 
 beaft, merely becaufe men fce'med to him to 
 be fubject to fome trouble. Though at the 
 fame time he could not help owning, that 
 he was under fo ftrong a biafs from Nature, 
 and fo powerfully neceflitated by her influ- 
 ence, that he was not mafter of his own 
 actions. For finding himfelf in the midft 
 
 of
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Goat. 89 
 of our difpute difpofcd to cat, and feeing I 
 know not what herb, which he faid was pro- 
 per for him, he left me abruptly, quite un- 
 anfwered, and forely againft his will ; de- 
 claring that he muft obey the call of Nature 
 which directed him to it. And yet to prove 
 to you how mean a wretch he muft have 
 been, he choofes to continue in the ftatc of 
 flavery, rather than to be reftored to man- 
 hood, and the government of thcfe tyran- 
 nick paffions. Though he could not but 
 have heard of the many noble examples of 
 our illuftrious countrymen, fo celebrated by 
 Fame, for having freely facrificed their lives, 
 rather than lye under any flavery or con- 
 jftraint, and yet have never efteemed it a dif- 
 grace to have ftruggled with Fortune and 
 the World. 
 
 Circe. What you call force or flavery is 
 to him neither the one nor the other. 
 
 UL Howfo? 
 
 Circe. Becaufe his nature requires it. 
 When a ftone defcends towards the center, 
 does it act under any force ? 
 
 UL I mould anfwer that I thought not. 
 
 Circe. And yet it can't act otherwife. 
 
 VI. True : But as it's nature required it; 
 the motion by which it proceeds in that di- 
 rection,
 
 go DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 rection, arifing from an intrinflck power and 1 
 an internal principle, does it no violence ; 
 becaufe all violence is what is differed from 
 fome exterior power, which can by no means 
 be faid to happen to the ftone, in the motion 
 you defcribe ; fo that though it cannot but 
 act as it does, it cannot be faid to fuffer any 
 violence. 
 
 Circe. However it is true, that it is at- 
 tracted towards the center by the force of 
 it's own gravity. 
 
 UL Not by the force, but by the nature of it's 
 own gravity; it being natural to it to gravitate, 
 which if it did not, it would not be a ftone. 
 
 Circe. This is juft the cafe with the pro- 
 penfions of mere animals, under the influence 
 of their proper nature, which can't be called 
 force, as it acts always for the beft for them, 
 and what moft effectually tends to their pre- 
 fervation and perfection. 
 
 UL But would it not be better to be above 
 the reach of this influence, and be able to 
 act ablblutely free? 
 
 Circe. Quite the reverfe ; becaufe having 
 no tmderftanding, which is the refult of rea- 
 foning, they would be perpetually (unlcfs 
 thus controlled) led into miftakes, which, as 
 matters now ftand with them, feldom or 
 never happens. UL What
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 91 
 
 VI. What proof have you of this? 
 
 Circe. Experience ; for though there be a 
 famplc of every fpecies within the narrow 
 compafs of this little ifland, which confe r 
 quently muft fall under my daily notice, I 
 can't charge my memory with having ever 
 obferved any of them diforder'd, from either 
 an undue quantity, or an improper kind of 
 food. Whence, though a fhorter term of 
 life falls to their mare, yet they get to the 
 end of it healthy and vigorous, which is 
 more than you dare boaft of. 
 
 77. If they are fubjecl to none of thefe 
 diforders, how comes it about that their life 
 is fhorter than ours ? 
 
 Circe. From their constitution ; which is 
 not fo well mixed as. your's. The radical 
 moifture, which is the fupport and food of 
 life, beifcg more impregnated with water, 
 and participating lefs of the nature of air j 
 fo that it is more eafily difpofed to corrupt. 
 I mean in general, though there are inftances 
 of animals, fuch as the elephant and the 
 flag, that are much longer lived than you. 
 
 Ul. And are you ferioufly of opinion, that 
 it is better to be a Beaft than a Man? 
 
 Circe. I never faid fo much, nor have 
 you any reafon for drawing the inference. If
 
 9 2 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 fo, pray why don't I change myfelf into one ? 
 But if I muft take the fame fide of the 
 queftion with you, converfation drops of 
 courfe. Let it fuffice, that you have full 
 commiffion to make your offer to any that 
 will accept of it, and if you are refolved 
 not to be too foon difcouraged, who knows 
 but you may find fome one that will at 
 length clofe with it? 
 
 UL I am refolved then, it being a re- 
 flection upon a man to have defined coward- 
 ly from a brave enterprize. 
 
 Circe. If fo, then call to the Goat that 
 browzes there, who, as I remember, was a 
 Greek. 
 
 UL Attend, you Goat, for Circe tells me 
 that thou art a Greek. 
 
 Goat. I was fo, when I was a Man, my 
 name Cleotnenes of Corinth: But I am no 
 longer fo; and what's more, will ne'er be 
 fo again. 
 
 UL What, afhamed of your country \ 
 Corinthian ? 
 
 Goat. How can that be, when there is 
 not upon earth a more honourable city? 
 
 UL What is it then that you are fo re- 
 folutely bent againft ? 
 
 Goat.
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 93 
 
 Goat. Againft returning to manhood. This 
 is the only fear that remains with me ; fo 
 much more happy am I in my prefent than 
 in my former ftate. 
 
 UI. I was juft going to make you an in- 
 eftimable offer, of no lefs than that of re- 
 iloring you to your former figure, of extri- 
 cating you from this ftate of flavery, and of 
 being your convoy to your native country. 
 
 Goat. I am obliged to you for any good 
 intention ; but I fear, that in this cafe the 
 fact would prove the reverfe of the promife. 
 
 VI. How is it poffible, good Cleomenes, 
 when I have often heard our Grecian fages 
 defend this proportion, <e that Man is the 
 <c moft noble and moft perfect animal ; or 
 <c rather, in fome meafure the end and lord 
 " of all the reft?" 
 
 Goat. And they fpoke like Sages ; for a 
 wife man fhould think well of what is his 
 own ; and an honeft man mould fpeak as 
 things appear to him. 
 
 UI. But what is this mighty happinefs 
 you enjoy, which humanity would fo much 
 abridge ? 
 
 Goat. If I mould defcribe it to you, I 
 know you by your nature fo difficult to be 
 pleafed, and fo infatiable when you are fo, 
 
 that
 
 94 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 that perhaps you would defpifc it j and be 
 no more fatisfied with it, than with the good 
 things of this life, or the expectations of the 
 next. But I will fubmit to you a few of 
 thofe evils which we are abfolved from; e- 
 vils of fo malignant a nature, that if you 
 judge without prejudice, you mufl envy us, 
 as much as you fancy, we ought to envy 
 you. 
 
 UL Come on then, as many of them as 
 you pleafe. 
 
 Goaf. Manifold are the miferies, and va- 
 rious are the evils, to which mankind is ex- 
 pofed, which would induce one to prefer 
 any condition that fets us free from them. 
 But it were impracticable to reduce them 
 within the fcanty meafure of time that is 
 allowed me to treat of them. For, to own 
 the truth, having dined very plentifully, I 
 find Nature, which above all things takes 
 care of my health, prompting me ftrongly 
 to repofe myfelf, and take a found fleep, 
 within the cool recefs of that mady grove. 
 
 UL However, let me intreat the favour 
 of hearing fome of the chief of thefe dread- 
 ful evils that attend us. 
 
 Goaf. With all my heart. Know nrft 
 then, UfyJ/es, that human nature is forround- 
 
 ed
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 95 
 cd with unnumbred miferies j whereof there 
 are four that feem to be the principal ; each 
 of which, if my memory fails me not, would 
 move me to prefer to it the life of the moft 
 defpicable reptile upon earth. 
 UL Name them ? 
 
 , Goaf. The infecurity of the prefent good, 
 the apprehenfion of future evils, the jealoufy 
 of thofe with whom you are obliged to live, 
 and fourthly the dread of the laws. 
 
 Ul. Oh ! you think of too many bad 
 things. ,* 
 
 Goaf. The point is how to think on few- 
 er. But to begin, Pray what moral fecurity 
 can a man have, that he {hall peaceably, 
 even for one hour, poflefs his prefent enjoy- 
 ments, I fpeak of common advantages ? Now 
 thefe are primarily in the hands of Fortune, 
 and how flippery a tenure that is, one need 
 not fay. They are in a fecondary manner in 
 the difpofal of Princes, who acknowledge no 
 other law but their own will, and how irre- 
 gular a thing human will is, you know bet- 
 ter than I. 
 
 Ul. This is true; but a wife man will 
 take care, not to be obnoxious to the caprice 
 of the one or the other. . 
 
 - Goaf. If
 
 96 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 Goat. If we confider property, who is he 
 that can depend upon the pofleffion of it for 
 one poor day ? For fmce the diftribution into 
 meum and tuum obtained in the world, each 
 man's avarice is fo whetted, that it is ever 
 on the watch, by ways licit or illicit, to ac- 
 quire riches, no matter at whofe expence. 
 
 UI. I am thoroughly convinced that men 
 ky more fnares for one another, than they 
 do againft any of you. 
 
 Goaf. To what an extremity the fear of 
 having thefe riches extorted from them, by 
 the violence of Princes, may drive men, let 
 it fuffice, that I have known fome quite dif- 
 claim all ufe of them, and by an affected 
 poverty, and real mifery, keep them buried, 
 fo that they were of no more ufe to the 
 owner than to an indifferent perfon : All the 
 advantage he reaped from them, was the 
 knowledge where they were hid, and the 
 pleafure of watching them. 
 
 UI. I bar all declaiming againft avarice, 
 which is fo monftrous a vice, that it diverts 
 men of all natural affection, even towards 
 themfelves. 
 
 Goat. Of the apprehenfions from thieves, 
 
 fervants, workmen, and efpecially of your 
 
 wife (if me happens to be fomewhat younger 
 
 I than
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Gbat. 97 
 than yourfelf ) all that I lhall fay is, that leC 
 it be more or lefs it has no place in our efti- 
 mate of things. We acknowledge no fuch 
 Deity as Fortune, and as we have no pro- 
 perty, it is impoffible there fhbuld be any 
 one difhoneft amongft us. Much lefsj being 
 all upon a par, can we have any fear of be- 
 ing robbed by one of fuperior power, which 
 might prompt us to hide what we value* 
 
 UI. I am perfuaded that thefe things give 
 many four reflections, but I am as much 
 perfuaded, that he who has his paffions in 
 due fubjeclion will fleer clear of much the 
 major part of them. 
 
 Goat. How can thofe be held in due fub- 
 je&ion, whofe nature it is to be in a conftant 
 rebellion ? 
 
 U/. There never was yet a complete vic- 
 tory obtained without immenfe toils. 
 
 Goaf. A very founding period truly! But 
 to our fecond point, I would fain know what 
 animal is at all folicitous about things not pre- 
 fent, except it be man alone. 
 
 UI. What things not prefent? 
 
 Goaf. Why, if the fky be a little over- 
 
 caft you are frighten'd out of your wits for 
 
 your harvefts. If you hear the thunder 
 
 grumble, or fee a flam or two of lightning, 
 
 H then
 
 98 D I A L O G U E IV. 
 
 then is the time for fuperftition to begin her 
 pranks: One flies to the temples and wearies 
 the Gods; a fecond takes Sanctuary under 
 ground, becaufe, forfooth, fomebody has 
 told him, that " the lightning never pierces 
 " the earth above five foot deepj " a third 
 fool clothes himfelf with fealfkin*, becaufe 
 fome old woman has allured him, that " that 
 " fea-monfter was never known to be thun- 
 " derftruck." 
 
 Ul, Well, but how many can you charge 
 with fuch folly? 
 
 Goat. Every one ; thofe who have it not 
 one way have it another. How many could 
 I name to you, that out of the mere dread of 
 being fick are never well, who fo far from 
 indulging in the liberty that health allows, 
 never dare tranfgrefs, either in the quantity, 
 or kind, prefcribed by their Phyfician : And 
 then the leaft alteration of weather, either 
 to hotter or colder, gives fuch a turn to their 
 blood and fpirits that they find themfelves 
 really out of order. 
 
 . 77. We muft own, that there are fome 
 vapourim people, that are ealily put out of' 
 order. 
 
 * Aiigujlum certe ilia pe/te pro dwoigoirettu Fultttiaii ufum t 
 a Suetonio in ejus vita refertur. 
 
 Goat.
 
 ) Circe, and the Goat. 99 
 
 Goaf. And I have obferved, that of thofe 
 Who arc more hardy and deipife thefe little 
 notices, few arc very long lived j and thofe 
 that linger on, generally fpeaking, fo wear* 
 out, and impoverim their conftitutions, that 
 when youth deferts them, a thoufand com- 
 plaints fucceed in it's place. And theri, upon 
 reflection on fome of the follies of their 
 younger days, they fancy themfelves never* 
 free from having fome hint or minding of 
 them. 
 
 //. Is it not fo with yon ? 
 Goat. No, becaufe we live by one fimpte 
 rule, chalked out by Nature for us. Add 
 to this the difheartning fufpicions of being 
 deferted in ficknefs, the fear of being put 
 into a wrong method, and the jealoufy of 
 having your affairs mifmanaged. Now this 
 can never happen to one of us, who have 
 no wants but what we can fupply curfelves, 
 and no concerns as we have no property. 
 
 Ul. And yet I have known fome of you, 
 who are fo well equip'd, fo well fet "out of 
 hand, very miferabl6 from the point of a 
 thorn, which you could never have picked 
 out without the alTiftance of one of us. 
 
 Goat. But the cafes are fo very rare that 
 
 they are of no account. Then as to your 
 
 H 2 feaf
 
 too DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 fear of death, what defcription can exag- 
 gerate it ? 
 
 Ul. Well, and are not you affected by 
 the fear of death too ? 
 
 Goaf. Not before it comes upon us ; not 
 till the pains are actually upon us. Where- 
 as the very thoughts of it, or even the fore- 
 knowledge when it {hall happen, throws you 
 into fuch horrors, that fome of you have 
 With your own hands opened a way to death, 
 merely to get rid of the fear of dying. Ha! 
 ha ! ha ! Let us now confider the anxious 
 cares that haunt you, concerning things fu- 
 ture and at a diftance. And how unhappy 
 muft be their ftate, that are not only con- 
 cerned for things necefTary to their daily fub- 
 fiftence, but for what is at the diftance of a 
 year or two, fo that the care to prevent 
 misfortunes fills up all the intervening fpace, 
 from the apprehenfion till their arrival. 
 
 Ul. And I dare affirm that fome of you 
 labour under cares of the fame fort. 
 
 Goat. Name one ? 
 
 VI. The ant, who in fummer lays up a 
 magazine to laft her through the winter. 
 
 Goat. I grant the fact, but deny the mo- 
 tive. It is not out of any apprehenfion of 
 a failure or dearth, as when you provide a- 
 
 gainffc
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Go at. 101 
 
 gain/I the future; but as me never ftirs from 
 un derground, being not able to endure the 
 winter's cold, {he lays up what me has occa- 
 fion for, within her reach, in the place of 
 her refidence. To this me is directed by 
 Nature, not by any prefention that me mall 
 want what is not at that time of the year to 
 be had above-ground. For how is it poffible 
 that they mould know when things are in 
 feafon, who know not the feafons them- 
 felves? nay, we know nothing of time, or 
 any of it's parts. 
 
 UL No ! how comes it then that fo many 
 of you can fo exactly make off and return at 
 ftated feafons, as your birds of pafTage, the 
 fwallow and the field-fare ; and that fome 
 can fb regularly take to their winter quarters 
 in caverns, as the ferpent and the badger ? 
 
 Goat. This does not prove that they have 
 any idea of the feafons themfelvcs, abftract- 
 edly coniider'd ; but that they are fenfibly 
 affected by phyfical movements. Nay, farther, 
 we know not only nothing of time, but nothing 
 of the motion of the heavenly bodies*, which 
 
 * Pythngorat afierted, that " Time was the fphere of the 
 " laft Heaven, which contains all things; 1 ' to lignify that 
 all things are wrapt up and included in time ; and that the 
 motion of the Univerle is the meafure of time, which begun 
 with this vifible world, and can only end with it. 
 
 H 
 
 arc
 
 102 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 are it's fubject. All that we perceive are the 
 fehfible differences caufed by them ; fome- 
 times by heat, fornetirnes by cold ; at one 
 feafon by winds, and at another by rains. 
 And in thefe we are fo very fagacious, that 
 the whole doctrine of your Auguries and Au- 
 fpices is founded in obiervations upon fome of 
 us. Now how is this to be accounted for ? 
 Why as we have not our heads filled, like 
 yours, with a thoufand whims and extra va<- 
 gancieSj our attention being free, we are at 
 leifure to diicern the moil minute alterations, 
 
 177. 'So that you think it a misfortune to 
 be fenfible how time paffes. 
 
 Goat. A very great one j becaufe as that, 
 or rather the motion of the celeftial bodies 
 which gives it a being, is the caufe of all 
 the changes in bodies, it mud: have an effect 
 upon your own. Now you that can calcu- 
 late this will always be picturing to youiv 
 felves death in an advancing pofture : This 
 makes you gravely count the folemn hours 
 one by one ; that again gives the alarm to 
 every fufpicion concerning futurity, which 
 can never happen to us who live free, a rent-? 
 charge upon Nature. If what has been faid 
 of the fear of death be not fufficient to ex- 
 jDpfe your vanity, to convince you of it let 
 
 US
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 103 
 us a little confider your cares for what (hall 
 happen after it. 
 
 UL A very laudable concern too ; to leave 
 our affairs in fuch a condition that our chil- 
 dren, who are a part of us, may pafs through 
 life with fewer troubles than we have done. 
 
 Goat. Well, as long as you can plead any 
 ufe in it I forgive you j but what fay you of 
 being felicitous about things for which you 
 cannot fo much as plead the leaft madow of 
 utility ? 
 
 UL What do you allude to? 
 
 Goat. To your folicitude about the per- 
 formance of your funeral ceremonies; for 
 which, as if the earth were not the com- 
 mon parent of us all, and that every child 
 had not a right to return to our mother, you 
 make an cxpenfive bargain with your Priefts, 
 and thofe that cannot pay the burial fees, 
 why let them efcape being devoured by the 
 dogs how they can. 
 
 UL I beg you to drop the fubject ; for af- 
 ter you have faid all you can on it, it will 
 only appear that the community has in- 
 dulged Come advantages to certain focieties, 
 but it can never furnifli you with any reflec- 
 tions upon the fpccies. 
 
 H 4 Goat.
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 Goat. What I have been mentioning is 
 bad enough, but the worft and the mofl 
 flavim fear that I have to accufe you of, is 
 the fear that one lyes under of another. Now 
 from this we are ablblutely free : There is no 
 animal naturally an enemy to one of the 
 fame ipecies, though he may be fo acciden- 
 tally, as through love, hunger, jealoufy, or 
 the like, and very rarely this way neither. 
 
 U7, And J dare aflert the fame thing; 
 that neither are we by Nature enemies one to 
 another. 
 
 Goat. Yet infatiable appetite eafily be- 
 comes fecond nature. For as not one of you 
 is content with what would fuffice Nature, 
 your ftudy is how to difpoflefs each other of 
 what he has ; whence fprings that torrent of 
 evils that rage amongft you, wars, defola- 
 tions, maffacres, treafons, thefts, and as the 
 height and perfection of all wickednefs, the 
 practice of giving poifon one to another, 
 a crime that we cannot think of without 
 horror, 
 
 HI. And yet he that will may efcape mofl 
 of thefe, 
 
 Goat. As how? 
 
 VI. By being contented with a little, and 
 living to one's felf feparate from the world. 
 
 Goat.
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Goat. 105 
 
 Goat. To the firfl of thefe, for ought I 
 know, you may bring yourfelves; but for 
 the fecond I defy yc ; becaufe you ftand in 
 need of fo many things, that it is impofliblc 
 any one man mould be fufficient to provide 
 them for himfelf. And depend upon it, that 
 this is the true account of the rife and foun- 
 dation of all cities, that by living together 
 you may be able to affift each other : And 
 becaufe one man may have more of fome- 
 thing than is neceflary, and lefs of another 
 than he wants, you have found out a very 
 proper means to carry on a traffic by the in- 
 vention of money. But let me tell you one 
 thing, that if, by means of it, you furnifh 
 yourfelves with all you defire, the very de- 
 fire of it will grow fo ftrong upon you, that 
 it is a doubt at the foot of the account, if it 
 does you more harm or good. For as every 
 body is contriving to make it his own, this 
 fo much difpofes you to quarrel, that it is 
 impoflible for you to have any dealings, even 
 for a fingle hour, without being fufpicious of 
 each other. 
 
 Ul. I fhall not pretend to deny, that the 
 diftindion of things into property muft oc- 
 cafion many troubles and broils, which I will 
 farther grant> you are excufed from, who 
 
 enjoy
 
 i o6 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 enjoy every thing in common. But then the 
 mutual ties of friendfhip, which we alone 
 can boaft of, give us fufficiently the advan- 
 tage of you: Friendfhip, that beft of all the 
 world's good things, by which we commu- 
 nicate not only a mare of all outward blef- 
 fings, but a part of our cares too. 
 
 Goat. And will any man pretend to deny 
 that there is not fuch a thing as friendship 
 fubfifting amongft us, when it is found flou- 
 riming not only among thofe of the fame but 
 of a different fpecies ? As for example, the 
 friendship is very remarkable between the 
 turtle and the parrot, the peacock and the 
 pigeon, the flag and the buck, and the like. 
 
 UL This I can never admit ; becaufe 
 friendship muft be founded on truth and vir- 
 tue, and I cannot allow you to have any no- 
 tion of either: So that thofe combinations 
 that appear amongft you, directed to fome 
 felfim end, are rather compacts and confpi- 
 racies than friendships ; what you call fo, are 
 rather natural inclinations, whereas what we 
 honour with that title muft be founded upon 
 approbation and choice, which cannot be 
 your cafe. 
 
 Goat. If you won't allow us any friend* 
 (hip, I hope you won't allow us any flattery 
 
 neither,
 
 Ulyfle?, Circe, and the Goat. 107 
 
 Neither, which does as much mifchief as 
 ever th~ other did good. 
 
 I//. And yet whoever makes ufe of his 
 reafon, cannot have the one impofed upon 
 him for the other. 
 
 Goat. But the flatterer appears fo like the 
 friend, that I fancy your reafon will often be 
 puzzled to find out the difference. Take no- 
 tice that flattery addreffes itfelf to your felf- 
 Jove, which will prejudice the ftrongeft judg- 
 ment. 
 
 . UL I grant it; and as the defire of praife 
 is of the party, thefe will make a formidable 
 alliance : Both propofe the fame end, to 
 pleafe you ; the flatterer in the funfhine of 
 your fortune, and the friend ftands by you 
 in the time of need. Though I grant you, 
 that it is a melancholy cafe to be driven to 
 this proof, yet he who coolly confiders, will 
 long before make the diftindion. 
 
 Goat. If it be fo eafy, pray (hew us a lit- 
 tle how ? 
 
 UL There are many charaderiiticks, but 
 the principal feem to be, that the flatterer 
 refigns himfelf intirely to your manners, does 
 as you do, changes his method with yours ; 
 is in love with every thing you admire, and 
 is mocked with every thing you diflike : 
 
 whereas
 
 io8 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 whereas the friend is fteady, purfues his own 
 honeft purpofes, and will drop you when you 
 drop your integrity. The flatterer then is 
 like the (hadow that always follows the body, 
 and does what it does ; whilft the friend is 
 like the light that fhines on every object 
 but preferves it's own purity. The flatterer 
 commends every thing you do, the friend 
 only when you deferve commendation : The 
 flatterer exaggerates every virtue, and dimi- 
 nimes every vice, but the friend holds a true 
 jnirror, that mews you both in their juft di- 
 menfions. 
 
 Goat. Proceed we to our laft reafon why 
 we would not accept of your offer, which 
 was out of a dread of your penal laws. 
 
 Ul. And is it a reflection upon us, that we 
 are governed by laws? 
 
 Goat. No ; but the neceflity of them is a 
 flanding proof both of the weaknefs and 
 wickednefs of your nature ; for what greater 
 demonftration of depraved appetites and diffo- 
 lute inclinations ; discarding the remonftrances 
 of reafon, and forcing you to take fhelter un- 
 der a ilanding body of numerous laws, to com- 
 pel you to keep within the lines of duty? 
 
 U7, Let that be the wicked man's con- 
 cern i but who does his duty out of a love 
 
 to
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Goat. 109 
 
 to virtue, need neither fear, nor even know 
 the laws. 
 
 Goat. And pray how many of thefe tradl- 
 able virtuous Gentlemen are to be found a- 
 mong you ? I prefume One might caft up 
 the number of them, without going deep 
 into Multiplication. Nay, were you fuch 
 gentle manageable creatures, yet always to 
 have your fenfes ridden with fo heavy a bit, 
 muft be difagreeable enough. 
 
 UL But what grows into a habit ceafes to 
 be a fatigue. 
 
 Goaf. How laborious muft the firft con- 
 queft be when it is the nature of your ap- 
 petites to be defirous of a thing, in propor- 
 tion to it's being illicit? But we have no 
 wi(h repugnant to our nature, take our full 
 enjoyment, not only where, but when we 
 pleafe, without having any remorfe from 
 fear, or check from (hame. 
 
 Ul. A glorious privilege truly ! not only 
 to be exempt from the reftraint of laws, but 
 the rules of decency. 
 
 Goat. I can be very eafy under any reflec- 
 tions upon a fubjedt of which I profefs to 
 have no idea. I hope you will take this for 
 a plain anfwer, that the liberty I now enjoy, 
 is more endeared to me by comparing it 
 
 with
 
 no DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 with the flavery that I know you to be 
 der. And what aggravates it is, to think 
 that you brought moft of it upon yourfelves 
 through folly or ambition ; I fay, that you 
 have in many points tied up your hands- 
 where Nature left you free ; fo that I declare, 
 that I will not only not turn man again, but 
 I do here renounce all dealings, all intercourfe 
 with the fpecies. For even the very cattle in 
 your fervice are involved in your quarrels : 
 The beaft that commits the trefpafs muft 
 fuffer in his own hide, becaufe of your fan- 
 taftical diftribution of what Nature made 
 common. But thofe that entered into fe> 
 ridiculous a compact I think much more 
 worthy of the ftripes, it being that alone to 
 which you ought to afcribe all the frauds, 
 contentions, and animofities that each day 
 breeds among you ; which hinder you/ from, 
 converfing with each other, as we do, with- 
 out the fear of lofing the prefent good, or in- 
 curring fome future evil. So that I wifli you? 
 all the felicity to be met with, in a 'if ate a- 
 bounding with miferiesj whilft I pafs the 
 little remainder of life, at leaft without the 
 fear of death, and that can only be done by 
 continuing as I am. Exit. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hind, nr 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI. gf 
 
 +j * 
 
 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hind. 
 
 & id > dear Gfce, that 
 
 truth begets hatred ; but 
 furely to a noble mind 
 nothing can be fo odious 
 as faldioodj and nothing renders a perfon fo 
 abhorred as a difcovery that his tongue holds 
 no commerce with his heart. So that I am. 
 
 determined
 
 ii2 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 determined to difburthen my bread fincerely, 
 though I hazard your favour by it. 
 
 Circe. Let not the wife Ulyffes think me 
 capable of being offended at the truth, which 
 is always welcome to thofe that are able to 
 bear it : So fpeak your thoughts fecurely. 
 
 VI. Why then I muft own, I labour Un- 
 der fome fufpicions, that you have not grant- 
 ed to thefe creatures fo free a ufe of their 
 underftandings as of their tongues. If hot, 
 I muft complain that I think myfelf abufed. 
 If otherwife, how is it to be conceived that 
 they mould be unanimous in fo monftrous a 
 proportion, That it is better to be a Bead 
 than a Man ? 
 
 Circe. Were the cafe as you ftate it, you 
 would have reafon to charge me with a breach 
 of promife, which is ever the effect of a 
 weak head or a bad heart. And yet I affirm 
 to you, that when you difputed with them 
 they had the fame exercife of their intellec- 
 tual faculties as when they were men. . 
 
 Ul. Prodigious ! that they mould not be 
 able to difcern fo broad a mark, when I fo 
 plainly pointed it out to them. 
 
 Circe. Who knows (which is nothing in- 
 credible) but they find fome enjoyments > 
 fome pleafures, unthought of by us ? But 
 3 come
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and theHihd. 113 
 
 come onj boldly purfue your enterprize, all 
 may not prove fo obftinate. And be allured, 
 that as all the animals you fee have been 
 men, what fhape foever they may bear, none 
 of them will offer you any violence. Exit 
 Circe. 
 
 Ul. It Was a common faying with our 
 wife men of Greece, that" *thofe whofe judg- 
 <c ment was fuffieient to conduct them through 
 *' life with decency and honour were juftly 
 <e to be efteemed in the higheft rank among 
 * e mortals; that thofe who had not fenfe e- 
 " nough to govern themfelves for their own 
 " prefervation, yet had enough to be advifed 
 " by perfons wifer than themfelves, were to 
 <c be placed in the fecond form ; but thofe 
 <c that neither had enough to direct them- 
 <c felves, nor to Men to thofe who had, were 
 ct fcarce worthy to be reckoned a part of hu- 
 e< man nature." Thofe whom I have been 
 difcourfing with, as I take it, are of this latter* 
 fort, fo that one is not to be furprized at the 
 
 * This is almoft a tranflation of the beginning of M. Mi- 
 nutius's harangue to the foldiers. Livy. Dec. III. Lib. II. Sifpf 
 audi c ui, milites, eum primum ejje tiirum qui ipfe conjulat quiet 
 in rent Jit : fecunditm eum qui bene monenti obediat. Qui nee 
 ipfe conjulere nee alii par ere Jcit, eum extremi ingenii fjft. By 
 which he alludes to thofe verfes of Hefiod, 
 
 Ac. 
 
 I
 
 ti 4 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 eftimate they make of things. But as I may 
 flatter myfelf that I can judge fomewhat bet- 
 ter, and am convinced how much it is the duty 
 of man to be afiiftant to a diftreffed brother, 
 think myfelf obliged to perfevere till I find 
 fome worthy of the gift I have to offer. But 
 fee, what a noble herd of flags is here ! I 
 muft try if there be any of my countrymen 
 among them. Tell me, ye flags, if Hea- 
 ven has ought in ftare to oblige you with, if 
 there be any Grecian of your herd * ? 
 
 Hind. Oh ! ye bleffed Powers, and do I 
 once more hear the found of human accents? 
 And have I myfelf recovered the ufe of 
 fpeech too ? 
 
 UL afide. Who knows but I may have 
 lefs reaibn to fufpect Circe here ? -This opens 
 well, by thanking the Gods for the ufe of 
 fpeech. 
 
 Hind. Are you of Greece pray, who put 
 the queflion ? 
 
 VI. I am, my name Vlyffes. 
 
 Hind. I alfo was of Greece, but of a dif- 
 ferent fex: I was a woman before Circe 
 changed me into a Hind. 
 
 * The Ancients looked upon themfelves as much obliged 
 when adjured by things facred, as if they themfelves had 
 fworn by them. Life of King David. Vol. I. 
 
 177. afide.
 
 Ulyfies, Gircej and the Hind. 115 
 VL afide. Nay, if I have to do with a 
 Woman,who, they fay, always takes the wrong 
 fide of the queftion, we are not likely to gain 
 much ground. However, it will be fome 
 fatisfaction to have tried both fexes. 
 
 Hind. Why then does Uly/es give him- 
 felf the trouble of wandring up and down 
 the ifland in queft of his countrymen ? And 
 tell me, I adjure you by the fame vows you 
 made ufe of, How does it come to pafs that 
 I have the privilege of fpeaking with you, 
 which I never enjoy'd fince my tranfmuta- 
 tion? 
 
 . UI. If you efteem it a privilege, you may 
 thank me for it, who by dint of intreaties^ 
 out of the love I bear my countrymen, have 
 obtained, firft, that each mall have the power 
 of fpeech; after that, the blefling of being 
 reftored to their former fhape ; and to crown 
 all, of being fafely reconveyed to Greece, 
 And as you are one, will you accept of the 
 offer ? Speak your mind freely, and I rnuft 
 add quickly too; for when you Ladies re- 
 volve a thing too long in your minds, either 
 out of hurry or diffidence, you quite lofe 
 yourfelves : So that your moft celebrated re- 
 partees have been the moft off-hand. 
 
 I
 
 1 16 DIALOG U E V. 
 
 Hind. No. 1 think you could: not de- 
 fire an anfwer morter or quicker. 
 .. UL I cannot fay it is the wifeft I ever 
 heard, but I can fafely fay I never heard a 
 morter. 
 . Hind. Why not the wifeft? 
 
 UL Only becaufe there is no fenfe in it. 
 
 Hind. You ought to take it for granted 
 that I have my reafons when I fay no. 
 
 UL That may be, but perhaps I may be 
 better fatisfied when I hear fome of them. 
 
 Hind. Well then, don't you think I had 
 fome for not confenting to be reftored, fince 
 you hear that I was a Woman ? 
 
 UL I can't fee any; fince you muft con- 
 fider, that you would have been changed in- 
 to a rational creature, for which you feemed 
 to exprefs the higheft efteem, when you fo 
 devoutly thanked the Gods, upon the reco- 
 very of fpeech, which is inseparable from 
 rationality. 
 
 -. Hind. My objection was not againft be- 
 coming a Rational Creature, but againft be- 
 coming a Woman. For Women are held in 
 fiich contempt among you, that fome of the 
 .* Philofophers have had the confidence to 
 
 affert 
 
 * It muft be owned, that in aim oft all nges fome learned 
 men -have found leifure enough to Hart fuch queftions. Thus 
 
 thofe
 
 Ulyfles, Circe,' and the Hind. 117 
 
 affert that we are of another fpecies. Others 
 have filled us imperfect Men, and fo have 
 proceeded to philofophize upon the hypothe- 
 fis of imperfection. But a little attention to 
 their own births would have been fufficient 
 to expofe fuch extravagant notions. 
 
 U/. Hey ! dey ! Why how came you by 
 fo much philofophy ? 
 
 Hind. You will.be lefs furprized, when I 
 tell you, that my hufband was a profeflbr of 
 the firft credit, with whom it was impoilible 
 to converfe fo much, without picking up a 
 good deal of what is fo eafily learned. 
 
 U/. I can tell you one thing which I per- 
 ceive he could never teach you. 
 Hind. Pray what was that ? 
 U/. To overcome the itch of prattling, 
 which is ftill fo ftrong upon you, that though 
 you could cooly reject the offer, you could 
 not forbear being tranfported when you found 
 the ufe of your tongue, 
 
 thofe ancient fages the Gyninofophijts, and thus among the In- 
 dians, the modern Bonzi, we are told, appear fo much like 
 ideots, when moft abftradled, that it is not eafy to diflinguifh 
 the apparent from the real Philofopher. There was a book 
 in the fjxteenth Century upon this fubjeft, An Mulieres Jint 
 Homines, which was anfwered ,by one Simon Gediccus, a Lu- 
 theran Djyjne of confummate gravity ; whereas it deferved to 
 be put in no other light but what the Frenchman fets it, by 
 trahflating the Thefis, Si lef Femmesfoifnt def Hommcs, 
 
 I 7 Hind.
 
 nS DIALOGUE V. 
 
 Hind. What I have to alledge then in jufti- 
 fication of my refufal is, that you men treat 
 us as your (laves, or at leaft as your fervants, 
 not as you ought, like your equals or com- 
 panions. A thing fo immoral, fo monftrous, 
 that I defy you to produce a parallel to it in 
 Nature. Caft your eyes round the Animal 
 World, and fhew me where the Female is 
 not the partner, not the flave to the Male; 
 fharer of his pleafures, and fellow- fufferer 
 in his troubles? Man is the fmgle exception. 
 I fay Man, who from being a Lord, degene- 
 rates into a Tyrant, and as he finds hirnfelf 
 fuperior to us in ftrength and courage, is ge- 
 nerous enough to take advantage of it. 
 
 UL What makes you declaim thus fu- 
 rioufly ? 
 
 Hind. I tell you once more, becaufe you 
 ufe us as your fervants. 
 
 Ul. Not as our fervants, dear Hind ; as 
 pur companions if you will. 
 
 Hind. D'ye call thofe companions, where 
 the one always commands, and the other al- 
 ways obeys ? But what aggravates our unr 
 happinefs is, that we purchafe this bondage, 
 or fervice, (call it what you will) with our 
 pwn money. For, according to your righ- 
 teous laws,, when once one of us choofes to
 
 Uly fles, Circe, and the Hind. 119 
 
 aflbciate herfelf (to ufe your foft phrafe) with 
 one of you, her fortune muft be thrown into 
 your lap ; and me that has none, is fure to 
 be treated as a flave for life, or elfe her only 
 deliverance from it, is by being {hut up in 
 fome honourable prifon, to become a Prieftefs 
 to Pallas or Diana, or fome fuch felf-deny* 
 ing Goddefs, but muft never think to tafte 
 of any worldly pleafures more. 
 
 UL And yet this delivery of the portion 
 into the Hufoand's hands is evidently calcu- 
 lated for your advantage. 
 
 Hind. A very particular fort of advantage 
 is that ! Becaufe, whereas others pay the per- 
 fon that ferves them, we pay him whom we 
 ferve. But I defire to know how this cuftom 
 was introduced for our good? 
 
 UL Becaufe, when men obferved your un- 
 aptnefs for bufinefs from irrefolution or un- 
 fteadinefs, it was adjudged that the fafeft 
 method to prefer ve your fortunes, was to 
 have them coniigned to your Hufbands, not 
 asMafters of them, but as Attorneys for them, 
 to fecure them to you in bar of accidents. 
 Accordingly you find upon their deceafe they 
 revert to you: So that what you fuppofe is 
 diametrically oppofite to the true ftate of the 
 cafe, and is evidently injurious to the Huf- 
 I 4 band.
 
 120 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 band. Whereas the faireft way had been for 
 the Hufband to be obliged to depofite intp 
 fome third hand juft as much as he receives 
 with his wife ; and then if there fhould be 
 any defect, the lofs mould be in common to 
 both. This would at leaft have one good 
 effect, that it would turn your thoughts to- 
 wards improving the principal, whiph is not 
 fo often done, becaufe it is looked upon to 
 be the Hufband's bufinefs to get abroad, and 
 the Wife's to fpend it at home. And yet in 
 your widowhood you are indemnified, an4 
 ill deficiencies are made good put of the 
 uian's effects. 
 
 Hind. But we that flay at home have a 
 greater fhare in the getting part than you 
 that ramble abroad. For you never faw a 
 vaft fortune raifed where there was not a 
 Woman as notable to keep, as the Man was 
 induftrjous to get. 
 
 VI. 1 believe it; and always thought you 
 had a better turn for faving money than 
 Men ' t for it is * timorqujnefs and pufillani" 
 that puts people upon hoarding. But 
 
 * Quoniam lunc fexam cuftodite ff diligentut cffignaverat, 
 iddrco timidiorem reddidlt quant <virilem, Nam metus plurimum 
 eoyffrt j,d diHgentiam cujlodiendi. 
 
 Columella, Pro&m. XII. De Re Rujlica. 
 
 then
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Hind. 121 
 
 then thefe very qualifications prove you to 
 be much more fit to receive than to give 
 command ; this minute care and exactnefs 
 being only to be exercifed in little matters. 
 Hence the highefl encomium that a Woman 
 can merit is, they fay, that me is very go- 
 vernable. 
 
 Hind. They fay ! that is, you fay ; and 
 k makes for your purpofe to have that no- 
 tion generally prevail. But afk us, or afk 
 experience, and you will find us as fit to go- 
 vern, nay prefide, in affairs of the highefl. 
 importance. Confider the kingdom of the 
 dmazons, how long was that preferved with- 
 out their being indebted to any of you, ei- 
 ther in Politicks or in War ? To relate how 
 the bounds of the Eabyknijh empire was ex- 
 tended by S emir amis i or the Scythian by 
 Tomyris, were to tranfcribe your hiftories, 
 which abound with their exploits. 
 
 UI. And how many more fuch can you 
 name ? I fancy you may count them all up-* 
 on the fingers of one hand. 
 
 Hind. For which we may thank you ; 
 who never giye us an opportunity of exer- 
 cifing thefe faculties, but keep us immured 
 within your own houfes, employed in all the 
 low offices that the care of a family brings 
 
 with
 
 122 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 with it ; for which our fole reward is, to 
 hear you* fay magifterially, that a Woman's 
 fame and her employment fhould begin and 
 end within the compafs of her own 'walls. 
 And yet even in this little way you may ob- 
 ferve fuch an exa&nefs, that the houfes where 
 there are no Women, in comparifon of thofe 
 where they are, put one a good deal more in 
 mind of a den than a paradife ; which fome 
 of you have had the honefty to own. As 
 to the propriety and neatnefs relating to your 
 own perfons, all that I mail fay is, that I 
 don't think it difficult to diftinguifh which 
 is the old Batchelor. 
 
 77. I grant, that you have your merit in 
 thefe kind of things. 
 
 Hind. And we fhould diftinguifh our- 
 fetves as much in things of an higher Na- 
 ture, if we were permitted to be concerned 
 in them. 
 
 UL I beg you not to go too far, left you 
 mould put me in mind of the Shoemaker, 
 who, when they were criticifmg upon a fta- 
 tue, aflerted that the fhoe was cut wrong at 
 trie inftep, and proved his point ; upon which 
 the fellow growing vain was for finding 
 
 * He means Tbucydides, v\ho fays, K*bdirt ? TO cupa. KJ T- 
 '.tfm. T^S '/a6? ywaixos $IH >.J**XEjf on than xj />Jo|er. 
 
 fault
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hind. 123 
 
 fault in another place ; but a ftander by pull- 
 ing him by the fleeve, told him, *' Friend, 
 " don't go higher than the inftep, for all 
 * c above that is beyond your province/' 
 
 Hind. 1 am glad you will allow us any 
 thing; for, generally fpeaking, your worfl 
 word is too good for us. 
 
 UI. How can that be, when we always 
 honour you, and give you the preference. 
 
 Hind. Never, in things of any confe- 
 quence ; but perhaps as far as giving the 
 upper hand at table, and a few foft appella- 
 tions merely for your own fakes, whilft we 
 have any beauty left to engage you. When 
 that is fled, Heaven knows your behaviour 
 towards us, both in words and deeds. 
 
 VI. This is the height of ingratitude. 
 
 Hind. As for fadts which are lefs generally 
 known I mail fay nothing of them j but your 
 words are too notorious to be duTembled. Is 
 jt not a faying with you, common even to be 
 a proverb, that " in Marriage there are but 
 " two happy days ; the firft when the wife 
 *' is led in, the fecond when fhe is carried 
 k out ? " 
 
 VI. Thefe are little freedoms of language 
 that men of wit will indulge themfelves in, 
 when they meet,, to divert the cares of life : 
 
 But
 
 124 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 But I think their practice {hews that they 
 don't exprefs their real fendments, there be- 
 ing fo very few that do not fome time or 
 other venture upon matrimony ; and thofe 
 that never do, are looked upon as odd crea- 
 tures at heft, and feldom efcape cenfure. 
 
 Hind. And yet you can all be ready e^ 
 nough to fay, u the Man that takes one Wife 
 cc fhould bear the figure of Patience on his 
 <c creft, but he that takes a fecond that of 
 " Folly." 
 
 VI. The moral is, that fecond marriages, 
 especially where there are children, are fel- 
 dom very happy; as they want that ftrong 
 cement of love that joined them in the firft 
 inftance. Nor do I really think patience in the 
 cafe fo ufelefs a virtue, as it is fo liable to be 
 exercifed by feme of you $ which made a 
 man of wit fay, that '* he never faw a bride 
 <c going to her hufband's houfe, but he al- 
 " ways pictured her in his mind, carrying 
 *' one hand ftretched out, and in it a lighted 
 " torch, as who fhould fay, that me was 
 " going to fet on fire the family fhe was go^ 
 " ing into." 
 
 Hind. Nay never be afhamed to give us 
 the fequel : c * And the other held behind, 
 ^ with a hook in it, with which {he had 
 
 " been
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hind. 125 
 c< been robbing the family from which me 
 " came out." 
 
 UL I cannot fay that thefe things have 
 not been faid by men of character, and per- 
 haps they have had their provocations too. 
 Neither will I deny how injurioufly you 
 have been accufed by fome of us, men of 
 debauched lives, or not of a capacity to con- 
 fider your worth, or how much we are forced 
 to be obliged to you. All which I am proud 
 to allow, or mould think myfelf unworthy 
 the name of a Man. If Nature has given 
 us in fome things the advantage, fo much 
 the better for us : If you had been furnifhed 
 with ftronger faculties of body or mind, you 
 had been lefs fit for the part Nature intended 
 you mould ad:, in fubferviency to us. And 
 when you behave properly in that poft, we 
 think ourfelves not lefs obliged to you than 
 to Nature herfelf for ordering it fo. You 
 are not therefore to take notice of every fcur- 
 rilous faying, which fools are ever ready to 
 throw out, iince we can quote you as many 
 good things juflly pronounced in your favour, 
 fuch as that " It is you alone that make life 
 ct preferable to death : That you are our 
 " crown 3" according to that renowned Egyp~ 
 tian King, who after having Ihewn his im- 
 
 menfe
 
 j 2 6 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 menfe treafure to a Royal Brother, told 
 <c he had yet a jewel to produce^ of more 
 " value than all the reft," and then prefented 
 him to his Queen. 
 
 Hind. I afk, How is it then that we are 
 ufed fo ill by you ? 
 
 VI. And I aik, How do you mean ? 
 
 Hind. I anfwer again, in treating us as 
 fervants, not as companions. Tell me then 
 fairly, How came it to pafs that you mould, 
 by prefcription, range out to the full extent 
 of your Will, whilft we are tied up by the 
 fhort bridle of Honour ? Is it that none but 
 we can offend againft Honour ? You indulge 
 every delire, and yet we muft not be allowed 
 the leaft flip, though we have ftronger temp* 
 tations to it; not from a more furious or 
 more ungovernable will, but from your vile 
 importunity and irreliftible affiduity : And if 
 you at length fucceed in robbing a poor Lady 
 of her honour, you are the firft to repay her 
 with a thoufand reproaches. 
 
 UI. If it be fo ineftimable a jewel let 
 them lock it up fafer then. 
 
 Hind. How is that poffible, when every 
 
 fellow has a key to it? So that if we are 1 
 
 drawn afide, as the fault is yours, fo mould 
 
 the mame be alfo. Especially as you arro- 
 
 . i gate
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hind. 127 
 
 gate to yourfelves a fuperior degree of under- 
 Sanding. 
 
 Ul. And yet if you would attend to the 
 reafon of this practice, you would not con- 
 demn it : But the error arifes from your con- 
 founding cafes, and putting yourfelves, as 
 brutes, upon the fame foot with us. Now 
 I demand, Is it right that the riches which a 
 man has gained by his induftry, or that the 
 honours which have been the reward of his 
 virtue, fhould defcend to one wholly a 
 flranger to his blood ? 
 
 Hind. No, certainly. 
 
 VI. But this muft be the cafe, if Wo* 
 men were to give a loofe to unlawful defires. 
 Now this, I fay, can never happen to Brutes, 
 who have no property to leave to their off*- 
 ipring, and have no concern about them, 
 after they are able to fhift for themfelves. 
 
 Hind. Since we have fallen upon the fub- 
 ject of Children, I defire to know how that 
 juftice and equity, the want of which we 
 have complained of, is obferved by you in 
 regard to them ? For it is well known, that 
 you caft the whole care and burthen of their 
 infancy upon us, contrary to the ufage of all 
 other animals in the world. 
 
 UL And
 
 128 DIALO CUE X 7 . 
 
 Ul. And pray, don't you as dextroufly fhift 
 off this incumbrance, by putting them out 
 to nurfe ? which I believe is as little pra&ifed 
 among any other animals in the world. 
 
 Hind. Who is the occafion of this but 
 yourfelves? who, during their infancy, won't 
 bear the leaft noife, won't give yourfelves the 
 leaft trouble or concern about them. But ai 
 foon as they are grown up, things take a. 
 quite different turn. Then you enter as it 
 were into a combination together, to defpife 
 and fet us at nought. Nor is this expreffed 
 in words alone, but in very deed : They are 
 called your fons, take your name, and count 
 themfelves only of your family, without 
 taking any farther notice of us. 
 
 UL Nor is this founded but on the moft 
 reafonable confiderations. 
 
 Hind. I fuppofe the reafon is grounded in 
 this cafe, as in all the reft, upon your power; 
 which can always make reafon take what 
 fhape it pleafes. 
 
 Ul. The reafon that I intended to give 
 was, becaufe they derive their fenfitive foul 
 and eflence of humanity from us, and us 
 alone. 
 
 Hind. Are we then mere cyphers in the 
 cafe ? 
 
 Ul. You
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Hind. 129 
 
 177. You muft know, the female can of 
 her/elf produce nothing of a higher nature 
 than the vegetative quality, which we enjoy 
 in common with the plants. This, I fay, 
 is the higheft perfection that me can unaflift- 
 ed reach. Hence you fee, as Nature never 
 ads in vain, fhe has not diftinguimed plants 
 and trees into different fexes. If there arc 
 fome exceptions, as for example, in the corneile 
 tree, where you will find the female fruitful, 
 and the male barren ; as there can be no con- 
 tact in the cafe, and the thing produced is of 
 no higher a nature than the vegetative ; for 
 thisj as I faid before, the female is alone and 
 of herfelf fufficient. This I illuflrate by a 
 familiar inftance^ fuppofe, of the hen, which 
 of herfelf folely and properly can produce an 
 egg, that has evidently the vegetative foul or 
 nature in it, becaufe it grows to a certain 
 determinate fize : But yet this egg^ as it is 
 unimpregnated, will ever remain unfruitful* 
 So Phyiicians allure us, that you ydurfelves 
 have often falie conceptions^ which they call 
 Mola. Now this, it is plain, mufl be en-* 
 dued with the vegetative power, becaufe it 
 increafes to a ftated magnitude, but has no 
 fenfitive quality, becaufe the other fex was 
 wholly unconcerned in the production: So 
 K that
 
 i 3 o DIALOGUE V. 
 
 that as our fons derive from us alone, the 
 Very animal eflence and fenfitive foul, they 
 may well, as you obferve, be called our fons* 
 Hence, when they arrive at any degree of 
 maturity, you are, by univerfal confent, ab- 
 folved from farther care, which ftill remains 
 a duty upon us. 
 
 Hind. What returns are we entitled to, 
 for all our pains and care ? 
 
 UL To be ever honoured, and if occafion 
 requires, upon the deceafe of the father, to 
 be always fupported : Which is never refufed 
 but "by wretches below the name and dignity 
 of Men. And in truth, Nature is herfelf 
 your fecurity, who feems to have imprefled 
 flronger affections towards the mother than 
 the father. 
 
 Hind. If you come to a comparifon, we 
 can give you fuch inftances of our love to- 
 wards our children and hufbands, as would 
 quite difgrace yours. What think you of 
 thofe who, upon receiving the news of the 
 lofs of their children, have dropped down 
 bftantly dead ? Of others, who upon feeing 
 their hu&and's expire, have immediately dif- 
 patched themfelvcs j as thinking it not proper 
 to live without a hufband, nor honourable to 
 be joined to more than one ? 
 
 HI. Thefe
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Hind. 13* 
 
 U/. Thefe are glaring acts, that feem at 
 firft fight to carry a great deal of merit with 
 therrij and to claim applaufc, as proceeding 
 from violence of love, or greatnefs of foul : 
 Whereas in truth they arife from madnefs or 
 cowardife ; as diftrufting that they could not 
 furvive their lofs. But if Nature, who al- 
 ways ads for the heft, had found that it were 
 better that the Man and his Wife mould 
 drop together, me would undoubtedly have 
 contrived that it mould always be fo. 
 
 But our difcourfe begins to be tedious, fb 
 I muft put the queftion once more, Will you 
 refume your former nature, and return with 
 me to Greece ? 
 
 Hind. By nd means ; and I thought I had 
 given you fufficient reafons why, too. 
 
 Ul. If I had thought them fo, I mould 
 not have troubled you with the queftion 
 again. 
 
 Hind. What I have to add, can be no 
 argument to you, though they are to me, 
 that by being a Hind, I am every way upon 
 a par with our males, I go and come as free 
 as they : I bring my young ones into the 
 world with lefs * danger^ and breed them 
 
 * Intet omnia Anamalla Mulier in partu maxim* vexatur. 
 4riftot* 7. . 9. Hift. Anltn. 
 
 K 2 up
 
 r 3 2 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 up in it, with lefs trouble than the befl La j 
 dy of them all. 
 
 Ul. Not that I fuppofe the happy minute 
 you boaft of is free from pain, or that you 
 require no care after it. 
 
 Hind. But you muft connder our ftrength, 
 and that we naturally arc directed to a cer- 
 tain herb, called ara *, the ufe of which 
 immediately reftores us to our health. 
 
 UL Is it poffible that you have no con* 
 cerns as we have about the education of your 
 young ones ? 
 
 Hind. Very few, I affure you, in com- 
 parifon of what you fuffer. Becaufe as they 
 have fewer wants, they muft give us lefs 
 trouble ; and that too is fo overcome by in- 
 ftinctive affection that it is fcarce perceptible. 
 Whereas you that are without that advantage 
 feel it's full weight : So that not to give you 
 the fatigue of perfuading me any longer, I 
 declare that I live much more contented as I 
 am. But not to difcourage you, I freely 
 own that) were I to change my mape, I 
 
 * What the Author calls Ara, is probably an abbreviation 
 Of Arijloloclna, fo called becatife ufira /30ir raV XOXK, 
 called hartwort, or birthwort, and is the fame that Cicert 
 calls fefelis. 
 
 Cicero Lib. Secund. De Natura Deorum, Cer<v<e paulo ante 
 partvm perpurgant fe quadam berbula qua /efe/is dicitur. 
 
 would
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Hind. 133 
 would rather be a human than any other crea- 
 ture -, as you may conclude, by our frequent- 
 ing your roads more than the haunts of wild 
 beafts. So I wifh you happy in your voy- 
 age, and I will myielf endeavour to be as 
 much fo as I can, for the remainder of 
 life in thefe woods. And fince I have reco- 
 vered the ufe of fpeech, without being ob- 
 liged to be a Woman again, I (hall envy nei- 
 ther Gods nor Men. 
 
 Ul. I would not have you fo obftinatQ, 
 dear Hind, in your opinion, becaufe you 
 ought to think us better judges in the cafe 
 than you are ; efpecially as we are quite dif- 
 interefted, and only recommend this to you, 
 wholly for your own good. 
 
 Hind. That, I remember, was the old 
 cant, when you had a mind to perfuade us 
 to anything; and yet your chief regard was 
 ever to your (elves. 
 
 VI. Befides you ought to remember, that 
 Circe reftored you to, the ufe of fpeech, for 
 no other end but that you might be able ta 
 declare your mind to me x in, relation to the 
 propofal which was, by agreement, to be 
 granted to thofe only that mould defire it ; 
 $o that if you ftill continue a Hind, I am 
 K 3 afraid
 
 134 DI ALOGU E VI. 
 
 Afraid you will lofe the privilege of talking, 
 which you fecm fo much to enjoy. 
 
 Hind. If I could fufpeft that, I muft own 
 it would ftagger my refolution. 
 
 VI. How can you doubt of it ? Do any of 
 your fpecies ever fpeak ? 
 
 Hind. Well . then e'en let it go 
 
 For as I am to converfe only with Deer, and 
 we have fo many other ways of explaining 
 our meanings and wants, (which are fo few 
 that they give us but little trouble) let who 
 will clofe with your offer, for my part, I 
 rcfufe, point blank. 
 
 Exit Hind. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 133 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated From the Itc.lian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion, 
 
 Know not what fhould bfc 
 the caufe, that Nature 
 (which is. always in the 
 right) fhould make a 
 greater difference between the fcxes in the 
 human than in any other fpecies. In the 
 nation of the Birds, the difference in courage 
 i$ very inconfiderable, if at all difcernible : 
 K 4 The
 
 136 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 The fatigue with them, either in hatching or 
 educating their young, is pretty equally di- 
 vided. The fame is obfervable among the 
 terreftrial and aquatick animals, the bodily 
 ftrength as well as courage in both male and 
 female being pretty pear alike. But in ra- 
 tional creatures, the female has both thcfe, 
 if at all, in fo low a degree that they are 
 hardly cognizable : So that they ough- rather 
 to blame Nature, for having formed them 
 fitter to be pur fervants than companions, 
 than us for ufing them as fuch -, for this treat- 
 ment is more owing to their mean, than to 
 our haughty temper. If they were as ftrong 
 and bold, we fhould not try to force them to 
 fubmit in this manner, nor could we if we 
 would. But put of a dlftruft of their pwn 
 conduct, or natural timoroufnefs, they court 
 our government, and voluntarily fue for the 
 yoke : So that I can't fo heartily wonder, 
 that the Hind fhould refufe to become a Wo- 
 man again. For in her prefent ftate me en- 
 joys her liberty, the choiceft of all bleffings, 
 and by the change would be put into a ftate 
 of flavery, the foreft affliction to any ingenuous 
 mind. Let us look out then for one to whom 
 pur offer would prove a benefit indeed, and 
 flpt as to her a real injury: Who knows but 
 
 fuch 
 I
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 137 
 fuch a one may bo met with in this troop of 
 Lions here advancing towards us. But ha! 
 what am I doing! If I (hould offend them, 
 I know the confequence muft prove fatal ; if 
 not I am fecure, unlefs they mould be a little 
 hungry, or fo. Now, though the Goddefs 
 gave me her word of honour, that no inha- 
 bitant of this ifland mould harm me, yet 
 cannot I overcome the horror with which I 
 am ftruck at this dreadful aflembly. How- 
 ever, in confidence of her love, as well as 
 her honour, I will take the courage to accoft 
 them gently. Lions, fo may happinefs at- 
 tend you in your prefent ftate, and be in- 
 creafed at every change, tell me gracioufly, 
 I adjure you, if there be any of you who 
 before his transformation was a Greek ? If 
 there be any fuch that is defirous of refuming 
 his former mape (as who that confiders does 
 not ? ) and of revifiting his natal foil, let 
 him know, that the bounty of the Gods has 
 thrown a Man in his way who is empower'd 
 by mighty love to effecl: both. 
 
 Lion. I was a Greek , as I perceive thou 
 art, if the language that thou ufeft be thy 
 mother tongue. 
 
 Ul. I am thy countryman. UfyJ/es., if fuch 
 a name has ever reached thy ears.
 
 138 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 Lion. Infinite times, not in Greece alone, 
 but in my moil diftant voyages. But fay, 
 have you deferted your trade, the glorious 
 art of war, that render'd you fo famous 
 through the world ? Or was you dire&ed hi* 
 ther, like myfelf, by your better fortune ? 
 
 Ul. I can't fay by my better fortune, but 
 it was owing to a defire of feeing the moft 
 diflant parts : For when our wars were hap- 
 pily concluded, and Greece had fubdued the 
 nations that were her foes, I thought there 
 remained no other way to extend my glory, 
 but by failing about the world. 
 
 Lion. And fair Penelope ,- your wife,-- 
 that bright example of conjugal chafthy, . 
 I hope fhe's well. 
 
 UL She is, and the ftrong defire I feel of 
 feeing her, and the reft of our Grecian 
 friends, has urged me to prevail with Circe y 
 (though her love to me be nothing inferior 
 to Penelope's) to grant me licence to depart^ 
 and to take as many countrymen as defired 
 to be changed back again into Men, to be 
 companions of my voyage. 
 
 Lien. Though it often happens, that the 
 perfon who means you well, officioufly dif- 
 obliges you, yet you ought to take it kindly, 
 as confidering more the goodnefs of his inten- 
 tion
 
 Ulyffes and the Lion, 139 
 
 tion than of his judgment ? Becaufe you muft 
 commend the motive, how much focVer you 
 blame the exercife of it. So I thank you 
 for your good difpofition towards me, though 
 the offer that feems to you, I queftion not, 
 agreeable and advantageous, I am fure would 
 prove to me quite the reverfe. 
 
 177. That is as much as to fay, that it is 
 better to continue a Beaft than to be a Man. 
 
 ILion. Oh ! beyond all controvcrfy. To 
 prove the truth of which, I refer you to the 
 beft authority, to one of the wife men of 
 Greece , who ufed to fay, that <c could we 
 " freely infpecl: the infide of Man, we fhould 
 *' find him a receptacle, a magazine built 
 i' by Nature, to treafure up her choicefl 
 " evils in." 
 
 UL This Man would have been wifer as 
 well as jufter, if he had taken the blame off 
 of Nature, and laid it upon his own back; 
 upon his own depraved appetite, which I 
 fuppofe he had gratified at the expence of 
 }iis constitution. 
 
 Lion. lam not now fpeaking of bodily evils, 
 but of thofe of the mind, which are more ma- 
 lignant and more difficult to be cured. 
 
 Ut. No body mould be too pofitive j be- 
 
 caufe as the body is the vehicle that carries 
 
 i the
 
 140 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 the foul, if it be weak or out of order, flic 
 muft be obftru&ed in her operations, which 
 can be no fmall misfortune. 
 
 Lion. I did not deny that the indifpofition 
 of the body does impede the operations of 
 the mind ; but I afTerted, that the difeafes 
 of the mind hurt the man more than thofe 
 of the body. Which feems to be a clear 
 propofition, as the mind is the better and 
 nobler part. 
 
 177. I grant it, but neverthelefs, if the 
 mind cannot perform her functions without 
 the body, the diforders of each muft be e~ 
 qually bad. 
 
 Lion. I fay thofe of the mind are more 
 dangerous ; becaufe as for thofe of the body, 
 a man perceives them upon him, either by 
 his complexion, his pulfe, a general faintnefs, 
 or a thoufand other ways, and as foon as they 
 are difcovered, every one applies for a cure. 
 But diforders of the mind fo far deceive us, 
 that we do not only not wifh to have them 
 removed, but enjoy them, and entertain them 
 as real bleffings 5 hence they frequently are 
 attended by that long train of ills, the lofs 
 of our country, friends, children, property, 
 honours. Whereas the worft that bodily dif- 
 eafes can tend to, is death, which is waiting 
 
 for
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 
 
 for us in a thoufand (hapes. To proceed, 
 if thofe diftempers of the body are juftly 
 efteemed the worft, that take away the fenfes 
 or underftanding, as the lethargy, phrenzy, 
 falling-ficknefs, and the like, thofe of the 
 mind all do as much, therefore they are to 
 be reckoned worfe. 
 
 Ul. I allow your argument to be con- 
 clufive. 
 
 Lion. You know that to be fometimes 
 fick, Phyficians tell us, is never the worfe 
 for us, as it is natural. But then the illnefs 
 muft not be of fuch a fort as not to let us 
 underftand whether we are lick or no. For 
 to know that we are not well, and to defire 
 help is itfelf a good fign in the patient. 
 Now this can never be in diftempers of the 
 mind, for he that labours under them cannot 
 form a right judgment: That itfelf being the 
 feat of the diftemper. And he that is ill, 
 muft firft know that he is fo, before he can 
 either find, or feek a cure. 
 
 UL And yet the fame thing may be faid 
 of drunkennefs, whilft the fumes of the 
 wine are in a ftate of action, they obftruct 
 the avenues to that recefsj where the internal 
 fenfes perform their operations, fo that the 
 perfon thus diforder'd is not confcious of his 
 
 condition,
 
 142 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 condition, which leads him into unnumber'd 
 miftakes, whilft he feems acting gravely for 
 the beft. 
 
 Lion. Very well ; and what is drunken- 
 nefs but a fliort madnefs? In this cafe the 
 organs more immediately concerned in the act 
 of judging are fpoiled for a time, in the for- 
 mer, for ever. To prove farther, that thefe 
 diforders are worfe than thofe of the body, 
 you never knew a perfon that called a fever a 
 Hate of health, the ptifick a fign of found 
 lungs, or that ever brought his having the 
 gout as a proof of the goodnefs of his joints. 
 And yet you hear people every day call an- 
 ger, valour j luft, love ; envy, emulation ; 
 and timoroufnefs, induftry : Hence the for- 
 mer always carefs the Phyfician, whilft the 
 latter always hate the Monitor. 
 
 Ul. What mifchief does this confufion of 
 names caufe in the world ? When fcandalous 
 Vices ftrut in Virtue's robes, and honourable 
 appellations are beftowed on crimes that call 
 aloud for chaftifement ? 
 
 Lion. Add to this, that he who labours 
 under any infirmity of body, ufually takes to 
 his bed, where, during the cure, he finds 
 fome reft, though never fo imperfect j and if 
 to fhift the pain a little he tumbles and tofles 
 
 from
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 143 
 
 from fide to fide, he has a friend at hand to 
 cover him when he wants it, and to entreat 
 him to be as ftill as he can. But he that 
 has his mind diforder'd, finds no quiet, knows 
 no repofe in himfelf, nor is there any friend 
 to adminifter it to him ; but is in a continued 
 perturbation : So that as that tempeft is worfe 
 to the mariner which hinders him from 
 making the port, than that which hindered 
 him from fetting out to fail 5 thus the difeafes 
 of the mind, which hinder it from feizing 
 the haven of reafon, and keep it tofTed up 
 and down in a boifterous fea, are more mi- 
 chievous than thofe of the body ; which > 
 though they may hinder the operations of 
 reafon, yet do not quite deftroy it. To 
 clofe the argument, be pleafed to confider, 
 that they who are afflicted with bodily pains 
 only fufFer it, whereas thofe that are difor- 
 dered in mind, are the people that do mif* 
 chief to others. 
 
 VI. Take care that you don't indulge your 
 fufpicions too far j becaufe the authors of 
 mifchief are commonly too private to have 
 any witnefs to what they do. 
 
 Lion. Examine a little into all the quar- 
 rels and calamities that have plagued the 
 world, and you will trace them up to thofo 
 
 poifonous
 
 144 DIALOGUE Vt 
 
 poifonous fources, to ambition, envy, ava- 
 rice, refentment, or fome fuch other difeafc 
 of the mind of man ; which not only deprive 
 it of the ufe of reafon, but render it fo tur- 
 bulent as to let it know no reft itfelf, or to 
 fuffer it in any body elfe. Nay, one 1 of thefe 
 boifterous fpirits is fufficient, if he be of any 
 rank or quality, to deftroy the peace of a 
 whole community. 
 
 Ul. Well, granting that the difeafes of 
 the mind, according to your fuppofition, are 
 more mifchievous than thofe of the body i 
 Are none of you fubjecl: to any of thefe ma- 
 ladies ? 
 
 Lion. I anfwer no. 
 
 U7. I hope you have confidered the point 
 enough to inform yourfelf rightly, elfe I 
 fhould conclude, that where there is no rea- 
 fon to moderate the paffionSj they mufl be 
 very unruly. 
 
 Lion. If we have not the ufe of reafon^ 
 (which I grant may be fufficient to controul 
 the paflions in fome degree, though not al- 
 together) you muft take with you alfo, that 
 we have not fo much natural pervorlenefs, 
 with which your reafon ftrikes in, fo as to 
 heighten the diforders of the appetites; where-* 
 $s ours are lefs unruly, merely for want of 
 
 feeing
 
 Ulyffes and the Lion. 145 
 feeing things in the manner that you do. For 
 inftance, what room can there be for ambi- 
 tion where all are equally great, and where 
 no flight or contempt can be patted on any 
 one ? We acknowledge no head over us, nor 
 are there any degrees of honour amongft us : 
 Which are fuch alluring baits to you, that 
 Right and Wrong lofe all diftinction in the 
 eye of him that is in purfuit of them. Nay 
 fome have been fo hardy as openly to avow, 
 that if ever Juftice is to be difpenfed with, 
 it mould only be when Empire is the object*. 
 Envy can never have place among thofe of 
 the fame fpecies, becaufe they are all equal ; 
 nor amongft thofe of different kinds, becaufe 
 as they know nothing one of another, they 
 muft be ignorant of each other's happinefs. 
 Neither can there be avarice, where there is 
 no diftinction of property. The fame rea- 
 fons hold good as to all other vices that ren- 
 der human life fo wretched. Which made 
 a wife man fay, that " the fole fuperiority 
 " Man could reafonably boafl of, was a pre- 
 * c eminence in mifery." 
 
 * Co-far ufed frequently a verfe of Euripides > which ex- 
 prefled the image of his foul, " that if Right and Juftice 
 * were to be violated, they were to be violate.! for the f.\ke 
 " of reigning." 
 
 L HI. Very
 
 146 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 VI. Very well j but fuppofmg that more 
 evils attend us than you, there are alfo fome 
 good things in which we as much excel you. 
 
 Lion. Name them? 
 
 U/. The virtues. 
 
 Lion. Why then I dare aflert, that there 
 is not one of thefe to be found amongfr, you 
 that does not (hine more confpicuous and per- 
 fect amongft us. 
 
 UL You muft prove as well as aflert. 
 
 Lion. I defire nothing more. Let us be- 
 gin with Fortitude, by which, Ufyffes has ac- 
 quired the glory to be ftiled <c the fpoiler* of 
 " cities, and the fubduer of nations." And 
 yet there was not one of thofe fplendid ac- 
 tions, in which you difdained to have recourfe 
 to fraud and trick; thus dignifying a fcanda- 
 lous vice, with the fpecious names of flrata- 
 gem and conduct. 
 
 UL Ha ! is this to affront me, Lion ? 
 
 Lion. Though my words were directed to 
 you alone, I intended the application mould 
 be general : So I hope you will pardon me, 
 as I had no defign to affront you: But I 
 know it is an univerfal maxim with you, that 
 it is honourable to overcome in war, let the 
 
 * Thefe are titles given by Homer to Ulffis, as -nr1tXTO- 
 $d-. Domitor Troj*. Har, -Lib. I. Ep. II. 
 
 2 means
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 147 
 
 means be what they will ; which notion ne- 
 ver yet could get footing with us. Accord- 
 ingly you fee all the wars we Wage, either 
 amongft ourfelves, or againft you, are carried 
 on without the lead plot or craft : Each con- 
 fiding in his proper ftrength, out of the 
 greatnefs and firmnefs of his heart, revenges 
 the injury that has been offered him, with- 
 out being accountable to any laws for doing 
 it, or liable to any difgrace for refufing it. 
 
 TJL But how do you prove that this doeSl 
 not proceed rather from anger than valour ? 
 
 Lion. By the manner in which the com* 
 bat is performed ; where each, fcorning td 
 yield, perfifts to the laft gafp, without fear 
 of pain, or dread of death preferving our 
 heart ftill unconquered : As is evident from 
 our never fubmitting to have recourfe, in or* 
 der to move pity, to vile prayers, or any fup- 
 pliant dimoneft geftures. And when we are? 
 conquered (as there can be but one victor) 
 the overthrow is never completed but in our 
 death. To proceed, you (hall never fee a 
 Lion bafe enough to ferve a Lion, or a Stag 
 own a Stag to be his mafter. And yet you 
 fee one Man fervant to another, without 
 feeming fenfible that it is a proof both of his 
 cowardice and of his bafenefs. How can 
 
 J-r 2
 
 148 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 this be accounted for, but that our courage 
 is in it's nature invincible ? This is ftill more 
 evident, from that generous difdain of all 
 refreshments, when we fall into your hands, 
 choofmg to fuffer any thing rather than to 
 afibciate with you; bravely prefering death 
 to fervitude. So that the only means you 
 have of getting one of us to live tame a- 
 mongft you is, by ftealing a Lion's whelp, 
 who, through your falfe carefo, may be won 
 to be beholden to you : Having with his li- 
 berty, loft that noble roughnefs of manners, 
 and immenfe ftrength of limbs, to which he 
 was born. Betides, Nature could never in- 
 tend to beftow fo much courage upon you as 
 upon us, becaufe you would not have fo 
 much occafion to exercife that virtue, which 
 therefore is not confined with us to one fex, 
 our females being as able to repel all injuries 
 done to themfelves, or young, as ourfelves. 
 The Hind and Mare, you fee, equal the 
 Stag and Horfe in ftrength and fwiftnefs ; 
 whereas whilft you undergo the toils of war, 
 or dangers of the fea, for the good of your 
 Country, your wives have no other bufinefs 
 amgned them, but to exercife their inventive 
 faculties at the fire-fide. So far therefore are 
 you from pofleffing more valour than we, 
 
 that
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 149 
 
 that I deny that you have any thing of it at 
 all. What with you is called Courage is np 
 more than cowardice, conducted with dif- 
 cretion } for I will maintain, that you ex- 
 pofe yourfelves to no danger, nor run into 
 any inconveniency, unlefs it be to avoid a 
 greater: Which, in my opinion, mould de- 
 nominate an adventurer rather a Coward than 
 a Hero. It would ill become you therefore, 
 to lament that Nature has not better armed 
 your bodies with claws, fangs, or horns, 
 fmce you yourfelves take pains to debafe or 
 difarm your minds. 
 
 W. " He that difputes without an oppo- 
 " nent, they fay, eafily gets the better of the 
 " argument :" So that till you are contra- 
 dicted, it is no wonder that you mould con- 
 clude, that wild beafls are more valiant than 
 men. But I am fo far from fubmitting to 
 your opinion, that I will uphold it, that there 
 can be no valour but amongft men. Now 
 to convince you what I fay is the pure lin- 
 cere truth, you mutt know that Fortitude is 
 the mediocrity between Rafhnefs and Fear, 
 determined by Reafon, concerning an object 
 juft and honourable. Is it poffible then, ac- 
 cording to this account, that there mould be 
 fuch a thing as valour among you? who have 
 L 3 firft
 
 j 50 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 firft no judgment to find this mean between 
 the two extremes, whence you are fome- 
 times too confident, and at others too timo- 
 rous ? Secondly, you are not qualified to 
 confider the nature of what is jufr. and ho- 
 nourable (which can alone juftify one in en- 
 countering dangers) but your refentments 
 only ferve to pleafe or revenge yourfelves. 
 This is fo wide of the virtue that is the fub- 
 jecT: of our difcourfe, that whoever expofes 
 himfelf to dangers, either out of anger, plea^ 
 fure, or ignorance, may be allowed to have 
 as much of the Fool as you pleafe, but has 
 not a fpark of the true Hero. Which arifes 
 from a defect, in not having adjufted the 
 boundaries of what is to be feared, and what 
 ought to be defpifed. 
 
 Lion. Surely you allow us very little, if 
 you won't allow us to know that every thing 
 which deferves to be feared is an evil. 
 
 177. Evils," as fuch, are the objects of fear} 
 but then they are not all equally fo j there 
 being fome evils, of which he that has no 
 dread, inclines a good deal more to the Idcot 
 than the Hero : Such, as for example, arc 
 difgrace, poverty, ficknefs, and the like. But 
 when the motive is juft and honourable, all 
 gangers, let them appear in what horrid 
 
 fhapes
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 151 
 
 iliapes they will, vanifh before the truly 
 brave man. Thus the valiant man fhrinks 
 not at the apprehenfions of death, although 
 the moil ghaftly of all evils, as it is the end 
 of life , not therefore that all kinds of death 
 are to be defpifed ; and the braveft man 
 ought not to be afhamed of being ftartled 
 at natural death, mipwrecks, or the like. 
 We allow him therefore the title of valiant, 
 who flirinks not at death where the motive 
 is honourable, whether it be in defence of 
 his own perional Honour, or of his Country. 
 Which laft is efteemed fo glorious a fate, that 
 the voice of nations confpire to dignify the 
 brave Man, that falls in his Country's fervice, 
 with particular funeral Honours. 
 
 Lion. If the contempt of death be fo 
 highly valuable in your account, Where is 
 this to be met with fo pure and unmixed, as 
 in our wars ? where we neither confider it, 
 nor any of it's frightful attendants. 
 
 UL But then this fearleflhefs in you is ow- 
 ing to felf-prefervation, intereft, or revenge, 
 not to the laudable motives of what is juft 
 and honourable. Thus thofe amongfl us, 
 who to get rid of fome excruciating pafiion, 
 or to avoid the difgrace of poverty, (evils that 
 come upon us not through any default of our 
 L 4 own)
 
 152 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 own) take fanctuary in death, are by no 
 means held worthy of the glorious appel- 
 lation of being brave, but are defervedly 
 branded with the infamy of being fots and 
 cowards. 
 
 Lion. As to dangers, it is evident that we 
 muft be infenfible; becaufe we never fo much 
 as think of them. 
 
 U/. This may denominate you bold, but 
 not valiant. For there are things which a brave 
 man may, with fafety to his character, juftly 
 fhrink at: Such as are the things that human 
 nature was never constituted to encounter or 
 fupport, as earthquakes, blafts from heaven, and 
 the like. And yet even in thefe cafes He will, 
 agreeably to his character, be lefs affected than 
 others : But as he that trembles at every in- 
 cident is a bafe Wretch, fo he that indifcri- 
 minately regards nothing is a raft Fool. It is 
 in the middle of thefe two extremes ( for 
 vices are but extremes, erring in defect or 
 redundancy) that this noble virtue Fortitude 
 confifts ; which whoever pofTefies, will never 
 expofe himfelf to perils without a caufe. For 
 as life is more valuable than any thing elfe, it 
 would be the height of folly to expofe it for 
 a trifle ; efpecially as this can only happen to 
 the brave and noble minded, who are wor- 
 thy
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 153 
 
 thy to enjoy it longer, if it were only for the 
 fake of others. So that we refufe this title 
 to thofe who, for hire, expofe themfelves to 
 the dangers of war, when neither their own 
 Honour, nor the fervice of their own Country, 
 required it of them. Neither do we beftow 
 it on Fops, who through an immoderate de- 
 lire of pleafures, nor no Mifers, who through 
 an extravagant luft after riches, are ready to 
 rifque their lives in purfuit of them. Thefe 
 are not brave fellows, but luxurious cox- 
 combs, and avaricious wretches. Thus thofe 
 that run into difficulties, through paffion or 
 ignorance, are called furious and rafh ; but 
 \ve never confer the honour of being valiant, 
 unlefs on thofe that dare to defpife death, 
 when Glory is the prize to be obtained, and 
 Dishonour the evil to be avoided. Which, 
 as I faid before, can never happen to you, 
 who are not capable of forming a judgment 
 upon the matter. 
 
 Lion. But don't you, that are fo cautious 
 how you beftow this honourable name, dig- 
 nify thofe with it, who through compulilon 
 of the laws, maintain fome dangerous poft, 
 which entitles them to fome high rank in 
 the government ? 
 
 VI. Yes,
 
 154 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 Ul. Yes, in a retrained fenfe ; but we 
 don't allow them to reach the perfection of 
 the virtue we have been defcribing, though 
 they come very near it. For he that is truly 
 brave performs the duties of the character, 
 and acts, primarily and principally, out of a 
 love to virtue, let the confequences be what 
 they will. Whereas thofe that act out of 
 any reftraint, or with a view to any reward, 
 have a little too much of felfiihnefs in the 
 cafe. 
 
 Lion. Do you confer that honour on thofe 
 that excel in the art and operations of war ? 
 
 Ul. Yes ; but thofe are improperly termed 
 valiant, and their bravery is of a lower rank, 
 becaufe their merit is founded in an art, and 
 a mechanical habit of offending others with 
 impunity to one's felf, not on election, guid- 
 ed by right reafon, which conftitutes the 
 virtue. For granting this excellency it's full 
 merit, it is certain that it inclines more to- 
 wards the apprehenfive and timorous. Where- 
 as he that exceeds in the daring part, will 
 do lefs violence to Fortitude, as there is lefs 
 merit in abftaining from acting wrongly, than 
 in fuffering honourably. But if the brave 
 man fuffers, he finds his reward in it, by 
 having obtained the glorious end propofed, 
 
 with
 
 Ulyfles and the Lion. 155 
 
 with the applaufe of his own gallant mind, 
 which is ever free from fear. 
 
 Lion. To fpeak the truth, Ulyfles, your 
 adls of Fortitude, as you call them, feem 
 to me to ftand in need of fo many requifites 
 and circumftances, that I am apt to think 
 they very feldom are to be found. And even 
 after that, they muft receive a fandion from 
 the general vogue of the world, and by what 
 fallacious arts that is gained, by you eloquent 
 men, I need not fay. However, I don't 
 think myfelf obliged to believe every thing 
 that I cannot anfwer : So I am of opinion 
 ftill, that there is more true Fortitude to be 
 met with amongft us than amongft you. 
 It's acls with us are more fimple, and lefs 
 embarrafled with difficulties : And as I am 
 refolved to remain a Lion, why, I will hear 
 no more arguments againft it. So thanking 
 you for your good intentions, I muft take 
 my leave, and join my valiant brethren of 
 the troop. Exit Lion. 
 
 Ul. How poor a degree of underftanding 
 muft this wretch have had, not to be fenfi- 
 ble of any operations, but what arife wholly 
 from the body ! So that he called thofe a&s 
 of Fortitude, which are in reality mere in- 
 clinations and natural movements, without 
 
 election,
 
 156 DIALOGUE VL 
 
 election, or any other aft of the underftand- 
 ing. But let him continue a beaft, without 
 that reafon of which he is fo unworthy, 
 whilft we proceed to find out fome that arc 
 capable of carrying their thoughts higher 
 than the corporeal part, and the impulfe of 
 mere matter. 
 
 Exit Ulyfles. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 '57 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Horfe. 
 
 Circe. S&SMSHAT makes Ulyffes in this 
 folitary grove, and in this 
 penfive pofture ? 
 
 UI. The beauties of the 
 fcene, and coolnefs of the fhade, firft tempted 
 me in, and I have fince been detained by 
 falling into a reverie upon this moft ferious 
 fubje&, How few there are that either know, 
 
 or
 
 158 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 or are defirous of knowing, what is their 
 better and more noble part. And yet this is 
 fo necefTary a piece of wifdom, to every one 
 that propofes to attain the end and perfection 
 of his nature, (which all muft defire) that 
 without this be firft eftablimed, the other is 
 utterly impracticable; for which reafon our 
 wife anceftors have taken care, in the moft 
 venerable edifices of Greece^ to have this 
 motto infcribed in capitals, KNOW THY 
 SELF *. 
 
 Circe. Whence do you collect, that there 
 are fo few who attend to this confideration ? 
 
 U/. From their actions ; for, as you 
 know, Man is compounded of two natures, 
 the one corporeal and earthy, the other im- 
 material and heavenly : By the former he is 
 like the brutes, and by the latter related to 
 thofe divine fubftances that keep the fpheres 
 in motion : This therefore, as the moft va- 
 luable, ought to be moft prized j inftead of 
 which their whole care is laid out upon the 
 body, to footh, adorn, fatisfy, and prefervc 
 it as long as it is poffible. 
 
 * This precept, KNOW THY SELF, was infcribed on the 
 temple of Spoilt at Delfhot. Vidt Plutarch's Oration to
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Horfe. 159 
 
 Circe. \ thought I had heard you fay, 
 that in Greece there were great numbers that 
 gave themfelves up wholly to the ftudy of 
 the arts and fciences, that they might culti- 
 vate what you call their better part. 
 
 VI. It is very true, but thefe numbers, I 
 am afraid, will be found very inconfiderable, 
 in comparifon of the mafs and bulk of man- 
 kind, that are wholly attentive to the wel- 
 fare and pleafures of the body. And even 
 of thefe wife men the major part, I fear, 
 ftudy virtue for the fake of the body, as 
 thinking it's happinefs cannot be fo well pro- 
 cured and carried on without it. But I will 
 venture to affirm, that who purfue not virtue 
 for it's own fake and value, but becaufe they 
 make fome advantage of it, are very unwor- 
 thy of the name of wife. For the chief 
 defire of the foul being to know truth, and 
 the reafon of things, in which it acquiefces 
 as in it's proper end, thofe that are confcious 
 of no fuch principle as the foul, muft of 
 courfe lay out their whole thoughts how to 
 gratify the body : Which I hold to be the 
 fource of all the mifery and unhappinefs that 
 attend human life. 
 
 Circe. Oh ! my Uly/es, I flattered myfelf 
 that the little time allowed me to enjoy your 
 
 Company,
 
 160 DIALOGUE VIL 
 
 company, would have patted fmiling off, 
 amidft an unbounded variety of pleafures on 
 every fide, fpringing up new and frefh, in 
 this feat of all that is delightful - 3 where the 
 perpetual fpring, fo much the boaft of hap- 
 py mortals in the golden age, is actually 
 flouriming, as in the moft celebrated pieces 
 of your beft poets, before difcord and en- 
 mity had being in the world ; where a rich 
 collection of animals, without controul, harm- 
 lefs, and fecure, either rove over the verdant 
 glades, or {troll through the cool recefTes of 
 this rifing wood. I thought thefe entertain- 
 ments would have incited you to partake of 
 them. Inftead of which, infenfible of the 
 joys that court you in every fhape, I find 
 you now mufing upon a bare flint, beneath 
 fome fpreading tree, or quite loft in thought 
 upon fome rock that overlooks the more : 
 This is not the chearful return I promifed 
 myfelf from your fprightly converfation, 
 heightened by the joys I (hew you, and pro- 
 voked by the love I profefTed for you. It 
 can therefore be no common grief that 
 ranckles in your heart, and lets you feel no 
 cafe. 
 
 UL Thou art thyfelf, my little Syren, the 
 readied proof that I could bring, that there
 
 Ulyfies, Circe, and the Horfe. 161 
 
 are people, whofe thoughts are fo wholly 
 engroffed by fenfual delights, that they have 
 no relifh left for the pleafures that arife from 
 a contemplation on the fecrets of allwife Na- 
 ture. Firft weighing down to earth, and 
 then clenching there, that active principle 
 which elfe would foar above the ikies, to 
 convene with immortal fubftances, amidft 
 pure extafies of delights, which the grofs 
 affections of fenfe can bear no proportion to* 
 And here I declare, that could I recover but 
 four of thofe whom thou haft transformed^ 
 to prefent them to our wife men of Greece^ 
 I mould be fo overpaid by the glory and ho- 
 nour of the action (though a frail and flip- 
 pery reward, yet as it is reckoned amongft 
 the goods of the mind) I fhould, I fay, find 
 greater pleafure in it than in all the fenfual 
 delights, which either this or any other fitu- 
 ation could afford me. 
 
 Circe. If thefe wife men are fuch great 
 rarities, your glory would be confined to a 
 narrow compafs, and your fame muft foar 
 within a little fphere, fince fo great a majo- 
 rity, according to your own calculation, would 
 be infenfible of your merit, as they are ig- 
 norant how much man excels the reft of the 
 Animal world. 
 
 M UI. I
 
 162 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 UL I fhould not efteem it fo ; fince to be 
 praifed by one man of an eftablifhed cha- 
 racter, would weigh more with me than the 
 cafual applaufes of an ignorant multitude. 
 
 Circe. How then do you account for it, 
 that you cannot carry your point ? and that 
 you can find not one that will accept of your 
 offer? 
 
 UL Becaufe, as I faid, all that I have yet 
 met with, are of the fort I have been de- 
 fcribing, that never knew or confidered the 
 true dignity of their nature, but were wholly 
 attentive to the corporeal part and it's grati- 
 fications: And finding that part of which 
 they were altogether obfervant, better ac- 
 commodated and lefs difturbed in their pre- 
 fent ftate, having no thought that foared fo 
 high as to confider their divine part, they 
 muft of necerTity defire to remain as they are. 
 
 Circe. If there are fo few that are con- 
 fcious of having this Divinity within, it is no 
 wonder that they have hitherto efcaped you. 
 But if you are inflexibly determined to pur- 
 fue your enterprize, fuch is the variety in the 
 humours and caprice of men, that you may 
 very well hope yet, to find one of your opi- 
 nion. In the mean time, as I frankly con- 
 fcis, that 1 feel none oi thofe cxtafies, in 
 I the
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Horfe. 163 
 
 the refined way you have been talking of, I 
 mall, as ufual, take a turn in this winding 
 valley. Exit. 
 
 UI. Whilft I am refolved to try on, 'till 
 I find fome one wife enough to know the 
 dignity of Man, and what conftitutes him 
 fo perfed: a being; for to know one's felf is 
 the firft fruit that Wifdom bears. It being a 
 greater fatisfaction to confer a favour on one 
 man of fenfe, than to fcatter a thoufand on 
 as many fools. But what a ftately Horfe is 
 here ! oh ! the beauteous beaft. Sure Na- 
 ture, next to man, takes delight in lavifhing 
 her fkill on this animal. I own, I feel my 
 myfelf already fo prejudiced in his favour> 
 that methinks I wiih I may find him a Greek. 
 So tell me, gentle Horfe, what thou waft 
 before thy change. 
 
 Horfe. I was a Greek; but why ? 
 
 UI. To let thee know that it is in my 
 power to make a Greek of thee again ; to 
 releafe thee from this enchantment, to re* 
 ftore thee to thy country, and to the liberty 
 of ranging through the world. 
 
 Horje. This bargain will require more 
 than two words; becaufe juft the fame ab- 
 horrence that I felt in my ftate of manhood, 
 at the thoughts of being turned into a brute 
 M 2 animal,
 
 1 64 DIALOGUE VII 
 
 animal, I perceive now, upon your propofal 
 for my being changed from a Horfe back 
 into a Man. 
 
 UL I muft beg your reafon for it ; be- 
 caufe I muft own your proportion, fimply 
 confidered, appears mocking to human un- 
 derftanding. 
 
 Horfe. My reafon is, becaufe as I am, I 
 find fewer things to hinder me from enjoy- 
 ing my eafe, and from attaining that perfec- 
 tion and end which is agreeable to my kind 
 and nature ; whereas when I was a man, I 
 came very fhort of doing the duties of a 
 man. 
 
 VI. Sure you forget that you of all ani- 
 mals are mod obliged to our amftance, and 
 can make the worft fhift without our care. 
 
 Horfe. How true that may be of thofe 
 who when young, through your artful ca- 
 reffes, might have been deluded out of the 
 generous wildnefs natural to them I care not; 
 but am certain, it is no argument to me, 
 who never knew what reftraint was, but live 
 as you perceive free, and range at my will, 
 without fufpicion or fear. 
 
 UL Have you any thing better to offer, 
 why you refufe ? 
 
 Horfe. I
 
 Uyfies, Circe, and the Horfe. 165 
 
 Horfe. I tbirk this fufficient, that we are 
 lefs hindered than you, in acting agreeably 
 to our nature. 
 
 UL I mould be glad to hear how, for as 
 yet I proteft I don't fee it. 
 
 Horje. With all my heart. Why you 
 muft know then, there are * two principal 
 fprings of action, that hinder both you and 
 us from doing what is fuitable to our refpec- 
 tive natures. The firft is, the fear of what 
 is difagreeable, and may prove injurious j 
 the other the defire of what is. delectable, 
 and may prove beneficial. Now thefe two 
 frequently are a drawback upon as both, in 
 the performance of our duty ; by laying a 
 biafs in you upon the will, in us upon the 
 appetite, ( our origin and fource of action.) 
 diverting it under the idea of fear of what 
 is hurtful, or attracting it under the notion 
 of what is defirable. 
 
 UL This wants to be a little explained. 
 
 Horfe. Have a little patience, and it mall 
 be done to your hands. The firft of thefe 
 impediments, which is fear, robs us of that 
 fortitude which prompts us through dangers 
 to purfue what we ought, the other of our 
 
 * Epifii-tus makes the whole of wifdom to confift in th,efe 
 two things, eiyi^nii ^ uTfi^tH, i. c. to hear and to forbear. 
 
 M 3 temperance
 
 166 DIALOGUE VII 
 
 temperance, which reftrains us from purfu- 
 ing what we ought not. Now thefe two 
 obftacles are lighter in our way than yours, 
 becaufe our fortitude and temperance are 
 ftronger. By the former we keep down that 
 part of our appetite, which you call the ira^ 
 fcible paffions, fo as neither to be too timo*- 
 rous, or too confident : By the latter we fup-r 
 prefs the paffions of pleafure, fo as neither 
 to be hurried too violently to what delights, 
 nor to be too foon daunted at what hurts. 
 Thus by having the paffions of each kind 
 more moderate, we meet with fewer diftrac- 
 tions in performing the operations agreeable to 
 our nature. 
 
 Ul. I fhould have a very high opinion of 
 your fkillj if you could prove thefe virtues 
 to be found in greater perfection in you than 
 in us. 
 
 Horfe. As to Fortitude, the whole flteam 
 of your writers runs in our favour. I mail 
 not infift upon your poets who, as their chief 
 aim is to give pleafure to their readers, may 
 be allowed ibmetimes to * fay the thing that 
 is not', but your hiftorians, whofe profeffion 
 jt is folely to regard the truth. Now when 
 
 This is a ftrift translation in Gzd/i r ver' > s Voyages of, Dirt 
 cht non f, in Gelli. 
 
 one
 
 Ulyfle?, Circe, and the Horfe. 167 
 
 one of thefe intends to raife the idea of his 
 hero's valour, he compares him to ibme fuch 
 beaft, as a furious lion or a fturdy bull *. 
 But how would it found, in {peaking of one 
 of us, if they mould lay, that he was valiant 
 nay even as a man. This therefore, I hope, 
 gives it clearly for us. 
 
 Ul. You confound bodily ftrength with 
 fortitude. 
 
 Afide. This, I find already, was one of 
 thofe that was never confcious of any plea" 
 fuies but thole of the body. 
 
 Horfe. And whence does ftrength of body 
 proceed but from ftrength of mind ? 
 
 Ul. From a mind rightly qualified to ex- 
 ert it, I grant it does. 
 
 Horfe. And where will you find this qua- 
 lifkation to fo high a degree as in us, who 
 have the mind lefs difturbed, as it is agitated 
 by fewer pafiions ? 
 
 Ul. What pailions can you name in us, 
 not to be met with as well in yourfelves ? 
 
 Horfe. I anfwer, all thofe that relate to 
 things abfent or future. We regard nothing 
 but what is prefent, without being fo fharp- 
 
 * jEgyptii facer dotes cum fort em & temper atum Jignijicart 
 vellent Taurum integne e valetudlnis pingunt, ait Orus. 
 
 M 4 lighted
 
 168 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 lighted as to torment ourfelves concerning 
 what has not yet a being. 
 
 UL Nor do we. 
 
 Horfe. I aflert that you do, both by fear 
 and hope ; fear of what dilpleafes, and hope 
 of what invites ; which actually affects you 
 with joy or forrow, and holds the mind in, 
 fuch a ftate of diffraction or fufpence, fo as 
 to render it unfit to perform it's functions 
 duly. Now from thefe paffions flow all 
 the reft. 
 
 Proceed we now to our Temperance, 
 which fecures us from thofe other impedi- 
 ments to our duty, which arife from plea- 
 furable objects. And who fo hardy as to 
 deny us the preference in this virtue ? I mean 
 as it relates both to joy or forrow. 
 
 UL This I muft beg leave to do, as long 
 as I find you more governed by the fenfes 
 than we are. 
 
 Horfe. And yet our practice {hall confute 
 you, and experience be the demonflration. 
 
 UL With all my heart. I defire no bet- 
 ter proof. 
 
 Horje. Now Temperance, as we have 
 faid, relates both to joy and forrow. But 
 Jjecaufe it is much more difficult to abflain 
 from pleasures, than to behave decently un-
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and tie Horfe. 169 
 der afflictions, I fhall confider the firft branch 
 of it, and begin with the moft powerful 
 propenfion to love. Now what animal in 
 the world is guilty of fuch ridiculous mad- 
 nefs upon this fcore, as you every day give 
 proofs of ? Caft your eyes through Nature, 
 and tell me, if after pregnancy* there be 
 not an univerfal truce ? Betides, we never 
 recede the leafl: title from our dignity, or 
 ever degrade ourfelves, to make a compli- 
 ment of our fuperiority to our females, like 
 you, who take a pride in profeffing ypur- 
 felves their flaves. How many of you, out 
 of a wanton indulgence to this paffion, have 
 diverted yourfelves of all regard to your di- 
 flreffed families, (which we abhor) to your 
 honour, your dignity, and fixed upon your- 
 felves an everlafting difgrace, and fometimes 
 the very extremity of poverty ? As for your 
 authors, who publim their infamy in profe 
 or rhime, and your wretches who have from 
 this motive procured to themfelves an un- 
 timely end, it would be tedious, as well as 
 needlefs to touch upon them, as inftances of 
 fuch every where abound. All that I {hall 
 fay is, that having once perfuaded yourfelves 
 
 f This alfo is tranflated by Captain Gu/iver. 
 
 that
 
 1 70 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 that beauty isfometbing divine* (a love and 
 defire of which is always commendable ) 
 from hence fprings the fallacy ; for you drefs 
 up that phantaftical grace, which is the re- 
 fult of due proportions, and well mixed co- 
 lours, in all the attributes of heavenly beauty 
 difcoverable in the Supreme Being, and lo 
 you confound your human paffion with the 
 defire of that excellency which is the per- 
 fedtion of the human foul. I call it your 
 human paffion, becaufe it neither rages fo in- 
 ceflantly or furiouily in any other kind, but 
 only at ftated times, for the prefervation of 
 the fpecies. 
 
 UL As if we had not feen you guilty of 
 a thoufand freaks from the fame motive. 
 
 Horfe. The worft that I dare fay you ever 
 faw, is fome quarrels arifing from jealoufy, 
 which is inieparable from the paffion. But 
 this I choofe to pafs by, left it fhould offend 
 you, confidering what horrid and mocking 
 fcenes it now and then introduces amongft 
 you. Read your hiftories, and you will find 
 how many plots, confpiracies, treafons, mur- 
 ders by iword, (and what is worfe) by poifon, 
 have alarmed the world from that fingle 
 
 * Jfocrates, in his panegyric upon Helen, fpeaking in praife 
 of Beauty, fays, that " It is a thing of a divine nature."' 
 
 caufe.
 
 Ulyflcs, Circe, and the Horfe. 171 
 caufe. So now I think it high time to leave 
 this firft branch of Temperance, to confider 
 it as fur as it concerns your food, in which 
 I dare fay, you will find yourfelves excelled 
 by every beaft favage or domeilick : Amongft 
 them you will find none that exceeds the de- 
 mands of Nature, or the kinds that (he al- 
 lots them ; be it feed, herb, flem, or fruit. 
 Whereas you, not content with any one fort 
 of food, ran lack the world for variety, and 
 after that call in the help of art, to make it 
 what it never was intended to be, by which 
 you are eafily drawn in to indulge to fuch a 
 degree, as either to procure you a mort life, 
 or a tedious decrepit old age. As for Drunk- 
 ennefs, as it robs you of all the boafted fu- 
 periority of reafon, I mall fpare your fhame, 
 as you have been fo fevere upon yourfelves as 
 to allow, that he who commits a crime 
 through this vice, is worthy of double pu- 
 nimment; the firft according to the quantity 
 of the fault, the fecond for having fuffered 
 himfelf to be deprived of his underftanding, 
 which mould have guarded him againft it. 
 J hope by this time you are convinced that 
 we are more temperate than you, and that 
 we are obliged to Nature for it, in giving us 
 more of that virtue that is able to remove 
 
 thofe
 
 i 7 2 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 thofe obftacles that hinder us from acting 
 agreeably to Nature. 
 
 Ul. I fhall not deny, that who obferves 
 particular operations fimply, without refpect 
 to any propofed end, will be apt to conclude, 
 that you are more temperate than men, and 
 yet I will undertake to demonftrate, that no- 
 thing can be falfer than fuch a conclufion. 
 For you muft know, that Temperance is an 
 elective habit, acquired upon a wife choice, 
 of which whofoever is pofleffed, he will not 
 behave himfelf indecently under afflictions, 
 or immoderately in pleafures : Though af- 
 flictions are not fo much it's object as plea- 
 fures, nor all pleafures alike : Thofe of the 
 Mind, fuch as a defire of honour, thofe of 
 the Underftanding, fuch as arife from in- 
 tenfe fhidy, and the like, fall not under it's 
 confideration : Nor all the entertainments of 
 the Senfes neither -, He can never be called 
 an intemperate Man, that indulges to never 
 fo great a height in admiring pictures, fta- 
 tues, and other objects of fight j much lefs 
 Jie that amufes himfelf with mufick, vo- 
 cal or inftrumental : Nor can the pleafures 
 of the fmell fall under it's notice, unlefs 
 from the ideas they raife ; as the dog enjoys 
 the fcent of the hare, in hopes of eating 
 
 him.
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Horfe. 173 
 him. So that there remains but two of the 
 fenfes, the touch and tafte, for this virtue to 
 exercife itfelf about : Or more ftrictly, only 
 the touch, the tafte being rather a branch of 
 that fenfe than a diftinct one ; as that mon- 
 fter* of a voluptuary, who fo far abandoned 
 himfelf to the pleafures of wine, wimed 
 that the Gods had beftowed on him a length 
 of neck equal to the crane's, that he might 
 enjoy the flavour of the draught longer, and 
 improved too through fuch a tube. 
 
 Horfe. What would you infer from thence ? 
 
 VL Have a little patience and you mall 
 hear. Why you muft know that man has 
 the inftruments, or organs, of the fenfe of 
 feeling in greater perfection than any other 
 animal. . 
 
 Horfe. How do you make that appear ? 
 
 Ul. You mail fee. All organs and inftru- 
 ments by which fenfation is performed, muft 
 be wholly free and void of their objects j for 
 it is abfurd to fay, that any thing can re- 
 ceive what it had before. Thus, for inftance, 
 the eye muft not be tinged with any parti- 
 cular colour, nor the palate be pofTefled of 
 any one original tafte j for then we fliould 
 
 * Pbiloxenus. Arijt. Ethic. Lib. III. cap. IO. 
 
 i fee
 
 i 7 4 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 fee as through a difcoloured glafs, or have a 
 predominant tafte, as people complain that 
 every thing feems bitter, in your bilious fe- 
 vers. 
 
 Horfe. This is very true j but I don't fee 
 how it makes for your purpofe. 
 
 U7. Now this can never be the cafe with 
 the organs of feeling, which are either 
 nerves, flefh, or fkin ; and as the objects of 
 thefe are the primary qualities, fuch as hot, 
 dry, cold, or moift, (anlwering to the four 
 elements) it is impoffible the inftruments 
 fhould be wholly free from thefe qualities. 
 
 Horfe. How can thefe faculties then re- 
 ceive thefe objects, if they have them al- 
 ready ? 
 
 Ul. Why they do only perceive the excefs 
 or defect of what is in themfelves, /". e. dif- 
 cern what is more hot, dry, cold, or moift 
 than themfelves. Hence thofe that have 
 thefe organs in the beft temper, muft be fen- 
 fible of the more minute difference, and that 
 muft be Man, who has his conftitution bet- 
 ter mixed, as all agree, than any o'.her ani- 
 mal. From whence it follows, as we have 
 that fenfe more exquifite, we muft perceive 
 higher pleafures from it than other animals 
 can do. And as our pleafures are more ex- 
 alted,
 
 Ulyffes, Circe, and the Horfe. 175 
 
 alted, it is no wonder if our defires of them 
 are lefs moderate ; though I am far from 
 granting that too. 
 
 Horfe. But will you, again ft daily expe- 
 rience, deny, that we do not fuffer ourfelves 
 to be drawn aiide by thefe pleafures as much 
 as you? 
 
 Z77. I am ready to allow, that you abftain 
 eafier from pleafures, and fufFer lefs from 
 afflictions, but deny either to be the effect 
 of Temperance. 
 
 Horfe. But why? 
 
 Ul. Becaufe, as I faid, Temperance is an 
 elective habit, chofen upon a chain of right 
 deductions. Now how can you be faid to 
 have the Virtue, who have not the Reafon 
 upon which it is founded ? Nor know how 
 to fix the mediocrity in which it confifts, 
 and whofe bounds cannot be tranfgreffed with 
 fafety to the prefervation of the fpecies. For 
 Nature has affixed certain pleafures to invite 
 us, as well to take care of the individual as 
 of the kind. But you can never be faid, 
 like us, to have a freedom of choice, who 
 are directed by Nature in all your actions. 
 
 Horfe. Whence then arife thofe effects of 
 Temperance, which, I hope, you will not 
 deny to be found in us ? 
 
 VJ. From
 
 i 7 6 DIALOGUE VIL 
 
 III. From an Inftinct that Nature has im- 
 planted in you, as being confcious how im- 
 perfect your intelligence is, and how ill qua- 
 lified you are to judge what would tend bed 
 to your prefervation j and therefore me gave 
 you a ftandard rule, that you mould not ex- 
 ceed in any thing that might haften your dif-* 
 folution. The fame care has provided, that 
 as you are deflitute of reafon to moderate 
 the paffionSj you mould not be fo ftrongly 
 affected by them, as to let them be injurious 
 to life. But ftill this is not Temperance, 
 which upon choice defires, and rejects in a 
 proper time and manner. 
 
 Horfe. If the fame end be obtained, what 
 is it to us whether it be by Nature or Teirn 
 perance ? 
 
 Ul. However it cannot follow, that it 
 is better to be forced to a certain determi- 
 nate point, than to move towards it free- 
 ly, and upon choice. So return, return 
 then, gentle Horfe ; be as thou waft, a 
 Man, and let thy Country blefs thy fight 
 with mine. 
 
 Horfe. That is more than I can agree to; 
 for though I may not be able to fupport my 
 notions io well as you, it will by no means 
 follow, that I don't perceive advantage e- 
 
 nough
 
 Ulyfles, Circe, and the Horfe. ijf 
 
 nough in my prefent ftate, not to refolye to 
 continue in it. 
 
 Ul. Nay, if you are fo invincibly obfti-' 
 nate, I fhould recommend the fame thing to 
 you : For certainly he is unworthy of any 
 better ftate, that gives himfelf up fo impli- 
 citly to the guidance of Senfe, as to be blind 
 to the light of Reafom 
 
 CIRC&
 
 178 DIALOGUE Vllr. 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 
 
 ? Nature, (as our Grecian 
 Sages tell us) wills that 
 every creature fhould at- 
 tain it's end and perfec- 
 tion, why did fhe, at the fame time, give 
 pur Senfes power to drag down to Earth our 
 Thoughts j and to keep the Soul intent upon 
 grofs objects, (which I dare fay was the cafe 
 
 of
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 179 
 
 t> our Horfe) till the much greater number: 
 of us degenerate into fomething approaching 
 very near to the nature of beafts ? Now 
 thefe, as they have their ultimate end upon 
 Earth, have their eyes turned down towards 
 it ; whereas Man has his face erect to Hea- 
 ven, to remind him that his thoughts ought 
 to be directed thither, to contemplate the 
 nature of fpiritual Beings, which will raife 
 him to a more exalted kind of happinefs than 
 falls to the mare of mere Humanity. 
 
 ^fids. But what can this poor Dog mean 
 by coming up to me in this familiar manner ? 
 See how he flops ! Surely this is in obedience 
 to his Nature, which is fond of Man, and 
 the fight of one in this place is a great 
 rarity. 
 
 I believe, nay, I may fay, I know (for it 
 Was Experience taught it me) that me gave 
 us more fenfes than are abfolutely neceflary, 
 for our more comfortable fupport, and foi* 
 the more exact information of our under- 
 flanding* But then why, I afk, are thefe 
 Senfes permitted, becaufe their objects are 
 there, to weigh down to Earth our better 
 part, which elfe would naturally be foaring 
 up to Heaven ? 
 
 N
 
 i8o DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 Afide. But fee how this Dog feems to look 
 with pleafure on me ! And by his geftures 
 one would think that he underftood every 
 word I have been faying. 
 
 I fay this permiffion could be granted for 
 no other purpofe, but that the confideration 
 of the difparity and difagreement between 
 the parts of which we are compofed, fhould 
 excite in us a greater care and circumfpec- 
 tion. This gives our virtue a better oppor- 
 tunity to exert itfelf; for difficulties not only 
 prove, but ferve to ftrengthen and perfect 
 It too. 
 
 slfide. This Dog grows fo fond, that I 
 mufl {peak to him. So^ come here poor 
 beafh How loving and faithful is this crea- 
 ture to Man ! 
 
 Dog. Tell me, gentle Cavalier, if you 
 are of Ithaca in Greece, as your accents feem 
 to declare you ? 
 
 UL I am a Greek, and Ithaca, as thou 
 fayeft, is my Country, 
 
 Dog. I gueffed fo by your dialed:, which 
 every province has peculiar to itfelf. This 
 made me ftop y overjoyed to meet a Country-- 
 man j but pity foon fucceeded when I faW 
 you .could not obtain the fame happinefs that 
 is conferred upon myfelf. 
 
 VI. What
 
 Ulyfies and the Dog. 181 
 
 VI. What happinefs ? 
 
 Dog. Of being transformed by Circe like 
 myfelf into fome beaft. 
 
 Ul. D'ye call it happinefs to be changed 
 from a Man into a Brute ? 
 
 Dog. I do indeed, as I will anfwer for it 
 you would too, if you could have obtained 
 the fame benefit. If this does not of itfelf 
 feem clear, have a little patience and I will 
 prove it to you. 
 
 Ul. With all my heart ; for I have been 
 ufmg my intereft with Circe, to get you all 
 turned back into Men, to redeem you from 
 fo much wretchednefs, 
 
 Dog. Firft, if you have no objection, 
 may I crave your name, 
 
 Ul. UlyJJ'es ; my firft employment was flu- 
 dy, and after that J took to arms. 
 
 Dog. I (hall with the greater pleafure con- 
 verfe with you, as your time has been em- 
 ployed in the two moft honourable profeflions 
 in the world. My name was Cleantbes, and 
 I too followed my ftudies for a certain time, 
 but being eafy in my fortune, I quitted them, 
 if not wholly, at leaft in part, as people in 
 fuch circumftances ufually do, to enjoy my 
 felf more at leifure, till arriving at this ifland 
 J was chang'd as you fee me ; from which 
 -day I date my happinefs, N 3 Ul.
 
 DIALOGUE VIII, 
 
 VI. I expert, or rather demand, that you 
 fhould point out wherein this fuperior hap- 
 pinefs confifts ? 
 
 Dog. If you pleafe ; I (hall begin with 
 the Virtues, becaufe in them you place your 
 fo much boafted fuperiority j in Jufhce, For- 
 titude, Temperance, and the like. But firft 
 refolve me one queftion j Which foil do you. 
 think deferves the preference, the country of 
 the * Cyclops [Sicj/y], which, they tell us, 
 untilled, and uncultivated, furnimes it's in- 
 habitants with a luxuriant crop of every kind 
 of grain and fruit, or yours of -f- Ithaca^ 
 mountainous and barren, which with all your 
 pains and care rewards you with a poor re- 
 turn, hardly fufficient for the goats it's na- 
 tives ? Anfwer me this, I fay, all national 
 prejudice apart. 
 
 * Mr. Pofi* Horn. O<h/. IX. 133. Of the Lar.d of the fy 
 flops, 
 
 The Soil untilTd a ready Hari'ejl fields, 
 With Wheat and Barley <iua<ve the golden fields, 
 Spontaneous Wines from weighty clufieri pour, 
 And Jove defcends in each prolific 
 
 11! e M. Cafo fapiens eel lam penariam Reipublicte, nutricem 
 phbis Romants Siciliam nomina'vit, Cicero in Verr. C. 2. 2. 
 
 -f- Ham. Lib. Ody/. 4. v. 823. 
 
 gre Land allo 
 ain Goat to br 
 
 VI. Not- 
 
 cliffs t our meagre Land allows 
 Thin Herbage for the mountain Goat to brouxe.
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 183 
 
 Ul. Notwithftanding my flrong partiality 
 to my country, I muft own, that the foil 
 you have fo well defcribed, claims to be pre- 
 ferred. 
 
 Dog. The fame merit will hold good in 
 Souls : Thofe are be ft that reach an excel- 
 lency with the greateft eafe. 
 
 Ul. This I alfo readily allow. 
 
 Dog. Then you confefs that the fouls of 
 Brutes, which without care or ftudy are of 
 themfelves productive of the Virtues, are 
 better, and more noble than yours, which 
 know nothing that is not taught them. 
 
 Ul. What virtues are Hearts fo adorned 
 with, from their own proper nature ? 
 
 Dog. Much greater than what Men are a- 
 dorned with, with all their art. And that our 
 difquifition may be the more unexceptionable, 
 let us begin with the firft and chief of all. 
 
 UL Which do you mean ? 
 
 Dog. I mean Prudence. Without which 
 no virtue can poffibly exift. For as virtue is 
 the mediocrity between two extremes deter- 
 mined by right reafon, it muft follow that 
 there can be no virtue without Prudence. 
 For the middle point, called Virtue, is not 
 an arithmetical medium, confifting in an 
 cquidiftance of it's two extremes 3 fuch as, 
 N 4 for
 
 184 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 for example, in continued quantities is the 
 Center of the circle, from whence draw as 
 many lines as you pleafe to the circumference 
 they will be all equal, or in a difcrete quanti- 
 ty, fuch as fix in the numbers two and ten, 
 which js juft equally removed from each ; 
 But it is a geometrical medium, which is 
 diftant from it's extremes by a fimilar, a ra- 
 tional proportion, fych as, for example, is 
 fix between nine and four, which contains 
 four one time and half, and is contained as 
 often in the number nine j apd it is therefore 
 Called the middle between the one and the 
 Other by a rational proportion. So then the 
 middle point, in which the virtue confifts, 
 being npt placed jn an equal diftance from the 
 extremes, like an arithmetical medium, it is 
 plain that fpme virtue muft determine it in 
 a rational proportion of extremes, after the 
 manner of a geometrical medium, and that 
 virtue mutt be prudence. So that there can 
 be no virtue without prudence, and therefore 
 it is with good reafon efteemed the rule and. 
 foundation of all the reft, and this, I fay, is 
 to be found better in us than amongft you. 
 
 UI. What proof do you bring of that? 
 
 Dog. Reafon ; for I hope you will al- 
 low that habits are to be judged of by ac T 
 tions. 1/7.
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog, 185 
 
 VI. True. 
 
 Dog. Then you muft alfo grant, that we 
 &re more prudent than you, there being more 
 pf that to be difcovered in our actions than 
 yours. And that this is alfo true you will 
 prove to yourfelves by a fair induction, by a 
 diligent attendance upon the operations of 
 any one fpecies amongit us. Let us begin 
 with the leaft, I mean the infers j and here 
 you will fee the Ant fo provident as to lay up 
 in harveft, a flock to carry her through the 
 winter. The Spider with great craft hangs 
 out her nets, to catch the prey that is her 
 fupport ; whilft the Wafp, with many other 
 fort of flies, take (belter under ground from 
 the fe verity of the cold. As for the Bees, 
 1 mail not trouble you with a detail of their 
 actions, their wife government, and exact ad- 
 miniftration of it; fo many authors having 
 fpcnt a great part of their lives in ftudying 
 their manners and policy. Next, let us go, 
 to the Birds ; and here you will find them 
 all changing their refidence, till they find one 
 agreeable to their con dilutions, and thofe of 
 them that are confcious they are bad nurfes, 
 leave their eggs, and afterwards their young 
 ones to be educated ( as for example, the 
 Cuckow) by others. The Eagle, when he 
 
 fufpeOs
 
 186 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 fufpecls the * legitimacy of his children, 
 convinces himfelf by turning their faces full 
 againft the fun. The Cranes put themfelves 
 under the government of one, who when the 
 reft fleep, ftands aloof watchful with a ftone 
 in his claws, which he drops and roufes them 
 upon any alarm of an invafion. The -f- Par- 
 tridge, to defend her little brood from the 
 fowler, expofes herfelf till they make their 
 efcape, and after that me makes her own. 
 The Swallow when me cannot come at clay 
 to make a cement with ftraws to build her 
 neft, dips herfelf firft in water and then 
 rolls herfelf in the duft, till me gathers a 
 mortar much like yours. In breeding up her 
 little ones, how wifely does me employ her 
 care, to make an equal diftribution of the 
 food amongft them, as well as to preferve a 
 neatnefs in the neft : When the Magpye finds 
 her eggs are difcovered, her next care is to 
 remove them by two at a time ; which me 
 does by fticking them with a vifcous matter, 
 with which me is fupplied from herfelf, each 
 
 * Defumitur ex noo Lucani Lib. 
 
 Utque Jovis volucer, calido tlum protulit two 
 
 Jmplumes natos, folis con--vcrtit ad orfus 
 
 Qui potuere fati radios, & lumine relo 
 
 Suftinucre Diem, cceli Jer'vantur in ujus 
 
 >ui Pkaebo ceffere, jacent, 
 f Le Perniei, the red leg'd Partridges,
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 187 
 
 at the end of a twig, under which me thrufts 
 her neck, and bringing them to an equal 
 balance* carries them off. There is another 
 fort of Partridge *, of which the hen is ob- 
 liged with great privacy to hide her eggs from 
 the cock-bird, who is fo very amorous, that 
 not brooking her abfence, would elfe deftroy 
 them. The fagacity of fome quadrupeds, 
 particularly of the Camel and Elephant, is 
 too notorious to be infifted on. The Stag, 
 when he is grown unweildy through fatnels, 
 as knowing himfelf to be unfit to ftand a 
 chace, withdraws to fome private ftation j 
 and does the fame again when he cafts his 
 horns, as being in both thefe circumftances 
 unable to defend himfelf. Nor does the 
 Hind difcover lefs prudence, in choofing to 
 bring forth near fome path beaten by human 
 footfteps, as moft likely to be free from the 
 haunts of wild beafls, thinking it fafer to 
 be expofed to the mercy of men : And when 
 her young ones are grown pretty frrong, me 
 is obferved to lead them to fome frecp place 
 to teach them to leap. The Bear, that me 
 might teach her cubs to climb trees, frightens 
 them herfelf, that they might learn that way 
 to defend themfelves. I (hall pafs over the 
 prudence of the Horfe, and thofe of our 
 
 * Le Starne. 
 
 own
 
 i88 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 own fpecies, as being a fubject too familiar to 
 you, and that of the reptiles, particularly 
 of the Serpent, as too obvious, it being bora 
 fymbolically in the hand of Prudence herfelf. 
 Nor (hall I detain you with ftories of the in- 
 genuity vifible in filh , both in defending 
 themfelves or making their efcape : This fpe- 
 cies by railing a mud in the water with it's 
 gills ; that by emitting a dark liquor like ink. 
 Nay you yourfelves have fufficiently con- 
 fefled how ingenious they are, by borrowing 
 from them the art of building thofe veffels 
 by which the commerce of the world is car- 
 ried on. Your oars are but an imitation of 
 the make of the feet of the Nautilus j your 
 fails of his wings, which he ftretches to the 
 windward, and fo rides top gallant over the 
 waves. So that I hope you will fubfcribe to 
 this plain propofition, that we poiTefs a fu- 
 perior degree of prudence ; and confequent- 
 ly, that the ftate, for which Nature has done 
 fo much, claims the preference. As the 
 luxuriant foil of the * land of the Cyclops^ that 
 produces her fruits of herfelf, is of more va- 
 lue than your country Ithaca^ which with- 
 out great care would bring forth none. 
 
 
 
 * Diodanu Siculus tells us, Lib. V. chap. i ft - that the Le- 
 ontine plains, and many other parts of Sicify, bear wild wheat 
 to this day. 
 
 Ul I
 
 Ulyfies and the Dog. 189 
 
 VI. I expected at your firft fetting out, 
 CkantbeSj to have found you a mafter of all 
 moral knowledge, but was foon undeceived, 
 when I faw that you did not fo much as 
 know what ftriclly Prudence is; and for 
 want of a diftinct idea of it, I obferved you 
 frequently confounded it with art. 
 
 Dog. I afTerted that Prudence is, that 
 knowledge by which we conduct our addons, 
 and difpofe them to the beft advantage. 
 This I hope you won't deny. 
 
 VI. No, but I (hall deny it to be all. For 
 he does not deferve the name of prudent, 
 who is fo only in one thing; fuppofe in the 
 prefervation of his health, or in the fkill of 
 managing his weapon : He alone is worthy 
 of it who is fo in every thing relating to a 
 quiet and happy life. And therefore this vir- 
 tue cannot exift among you, as I prove thus; 
 Prudence is a virtue fubfifting in the part of 
 the underflanding, called practical, becaufc 
 it has actions for it's object, and univerfals 
 for it's principles, which by reafoning fhe ap- 
 plies to particulars. Now this you cannot 
 do, becaufe you are not endued with this 
 faculty. 
 
 Dog. But how will you prove that this 
 power may not be the refult of Senfe, and 
 not of Reafon ? 
 
 VI. She
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 Ul. She paries a judgment both upon 
 things paft and to come j therefore it muft 
 know them j but fenfe, you will confefs, 
 knows only things prefent. 
 
 Dog. Pray do not the memory and the 
 imagination comprehend things abfent ? 
 
 Ul. Yes; but then they pafs no judgment 
 on them, nor do they afterwards apply them 
 to particulars. 
 
 Dog. But why may not we have by Na- 
 ture the principles of Prudence in us, as 
 well as you have thofe of Science ? 
 
 Ul. Becaufe they are fuch as muft be ac- 
 quired, either by difcipline or by experience. 
 You cannot have them by difcipline, becaufe 
 you are not capable of conlidering univerfals; 
 nor by experience, becaufe you have not 
 memory, which lays up that ftore of parti- 
 culars with which when reafon ferves itfelf 
 it becomes experience. 
 
 Dog. He that denies us to have any me- 
 mory, fure is very little acquainted with us. 
 
 Ul. And yet I will maintain, that what 
 you call Memory is nothing but Imagination. 
 
 Dog. Where is the difference, granting 
 what you fay, if Imagination ferves the fame 
 purpofes in us as Memory does in you ? 
 
 Ul. It is very true that the Fancy preferves 
 the images of things, which ihe has received 
 
 from
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 191 
 
 from the Senfes, as Memory does ; but then 
 the Memory preferves them more diftinct, 
 and ranges them in better order. Befides, it 
 connects the idea of time with it; fuch as 
 when it received fuch and fuch impreflions, 
 which mere Fancy cannot perform. " The 
 " Afs will not go by the ditch where he 
 " once fell in," fays the proverb. But this 
 is only becaufe the imagination reprefents to 
 him the fall indiftindlly, and without any 
 notion of the time when. So that as it does 
 not appear to him in what part of time this 
 happened, whether it was in the paft, is in 
 the prefent, or is to be in the future, his 
 apprehenfion will not fuffer him to rifque a 
 fecond tumble. So that it is certain, thofe 
 fpecies that have the Imagination in a higher 
 degree of perfection, by which they perceive 
 things more diftin&ly, will feem to have 
 Memory : As you above all animals feem to 
 retain fome things, particularly the know- 
 ledge of your Matters. And where this 
 power is lefs perfect, they will appear to have 
 lefs of memory j as the flies, which when 
 driven from a place, immediately feem to 
 forget it, by returning inftantly to fettle upon 
 it again. Therefore as Man alone, by the 
 knowledge of the parts of time, can be 
 
 laid
 
 1 9 2 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 faid to have Memory, he alone can be faid 
 to have Prudence : For without that it would 
 be impoflible to judge when it is proper td 
 do a thing, and when not, in which Pru- 
 dence confifts. 
 
 Dog. If you will hot allow us to have 
 frudence, What is that principle that directs 
 tis to do only what is agreeable to our Na- 
 ture ? 
 
 UL An inftinct; a property implanted in 
 you for your prefervation, conducting you to 
 what is your end. So that if you fhouldj 
 for example^ afk thofe Ants that were born 
 laft fpring, upon what motive they lay up 
 their ftore, having not felt the rigour of any 
 preceding winter^ and confequently it could 
 not be from prudence ; their anfwer muft 
 be, becaufe we fee our parents do the fame, 
 or that they act by fome natural impulfe urg- 
 ing them to it; 
 
 Dog. But is not this the fame thing in us 
 which would be called Prudence in you? 
 
 Ul. No; it is rather quite a different thing j 
 becaufe Prudence is not a natural gift, but an 
 habit, begun upon choice, and brought to* 
 perfection by repeated adls. That you may 
 fee this the clearer, you muft know that in 
 our mind, ( I fpeak of the underfhnding 
 
 and
 
 Ulyfies and the Dog. 193 
 
 and not of the Senfe) are two powers, with 
 the one we contemplate things unchangeable, 
 neceflary, and eternal. By neceflary I mean, 
 that have their beginning in fuch a. manner, 
 that it is impoflible for them to be in any 
 other manner. By the fecond we coniider 
 things contingent and variable, or fuch as 
 may exift as well under one form as another. 
 The firft of thefe is called the fpeculative 
 Intellect, the fecond is fUled Reafon, Dif- 
 courfe, and the practical Underftanding. But, 
 becaufe things neceflary and unchangeable are 
 of three forts, that is, they are principles, or 
 conclufions from them, or an aggregate of" 
 both j therefore in this fpeculative part, there 
 are correfpondent to them three habits, In- 
 tellect, Science, and Knowledge. By the 
 firft we take in Principles, the fecond Con- 
 clufions, and by the third both. And becaufe 
 things contingent are of two forts ( I fpeak 
 now of moral not phyfical accidents) active 
 and operative or executive} the active regards 
 our own manners and moral operations, fo as 
 to render the Man good, by correcting his 
 appetites, and conducting him to happinefs : 
 the executive relates to combinations external 
 to him, and the wife adminiitratjon of them. 
 The firft falls under the notice of Prudence, 
 O which
 
 i 9 4 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 which is nothing but an habitude of acting 
 according to Reafon, in things good or bad 
 for us perfonally confidered ; the fecond falls 
 under the cognizance of Art, which is the 
 habit of acting wifely in things external, and 
 conftituted artificially. So that you fee how 
 other Animals cannot be faid to have either 
 Prudence or Art, as you are void of Reafon, 
 or, call it the practical Intellect, which is the 
 ground they have to work upon. Nor is it 
 flrange that Nature, which never does any 
 thing in vain, has given you neither the one 
 'nor the other. Having only yourfelves to 
 provide for, and" your young ones a fhort 
 time, till they can make a fhift without you. 
 You could have no occafion for Prudence or 
 Art, as thofe have to whom the government 
 of families and ftates are committed ; and 
 efpecially, as you want no fupplies that Na- 
 ture does not furnifh you with. 
 
 Dog. Your eloquence, Ulyjfes, is fo artful 
 and at the fame time fo forcible, that who 
 mould incautioufly liften to you, would be 
 in danger of being drawn in to give his af- 
 fent, as if nothing but truth dropt from thofe 
 lips, though you groffly Rumbled at the very 
 threfhold, as the faying is, of your dilcourie. 
 
 i VI. What
 
 Ulyffes and the Dog. 195 
 
 TJl. What is this mighty blunder you 
 charge me with ? 
 
 Dog. That in reckoning up the intelle&ual 
 habits, you took no notice of Opinion, and 
 yet what (hare that has in the acts of the 
 Underftanding one need not fay. 
 
 Ul. The charge recoils upon yourfelf, for 
 want of obferving that I obviated it at the 
 very threfhold, as you call it, by declaring^ 
 that I confined myfelf to thofe contingencies 
 that are within our own power, which are 
 properly the objects of Prudence, and left 
 out of the confideration fuch as depend on 
 nature, that fall under the notice of Opi- 
 nion, which is no wonder if it fometimes 
 errs, as natural effects are fo immenfe and 
 various. 
 
 Dog. Why was this left out of the con- 
 fideration ? 
 
 UL As unworthy to be reckoned amongft 
 thofe higher powers, or intellectual habits,* 
 becaufe it brings no improvement to the 
 Underftanding. Thus a Man is not efteemed 
 wife for having an opinion of a thing, but 
 for knowing it. Befides, Opinion is liable 
 to be deceived, which can never happen to 
 the forementioned habits. 
 
 O 2 Dog.
 
 196 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 Dog. Are you in earrieft ! not liable to be 
 deceived ? 
 
 Ul. The three nrft, which fubfift in the 
 mind or fpeculative intellect, as their objects 
 are immutable, cannot be deceived. But, 
 that muft ever be true or falfe, which the 
 Soul (hall judge to be fo with either of thefe. 
 The like may be faid of the two powers of 
 the practical intellect ; but with this differ- 
 ence, that with the firft three me judges and 
 pronounces true on her own part, and on the 
 part of the things which me confiders as 
 they are immutable, and muft for ever re- 
 main fo: Whereas with the powers of the 
 fecond kind, me only pronounces what is 
 true as far as they are concerned, and not the 
 objects themfelves. 
 
 Dog. Will you be fo hardy as to aflert, 
 that Prudence, or the Art that you have 
 been fpeaking of, is not capable of being 
 miftaken ? 
 
 Ul. No; but this is not the fault of the 
 faculties, which are good and true, but it 
 proceeds from the part of the objects which 
 are variable. 
 
 Dog. And yet this methinks may be an- 
 fwered; but I choofe rather to return to our 
 proportion, and demand of you again, if 
 
 we
 
 Ulyfles and the Dog. 197 
 
 we have not Prudence, how comes it that 
 there is fuch a rectitude in our operations, 
 and that we make fewer miftakes than you ? 
 And if we are wholly void of Art, to what 
 do you afcribe that furprizing fkill, that 
 (hews itfelf in what we do for our own fer- 
 vice, and efpecially for the fervice of our 
 young ? 
 
 UL To an Inftinc~t, or a certain natural 
 Prevalency implanted in you, according to 
 your different fpecies, for your preferva- 
 tion, wholly different from either Prudence 
 or Art. And that this is fo, be pleafed to 
 remember, that all animals of the fame 
 fort, obferve exactly the fame forms, as well , 
 in building as in every thing elfe. Where- 
 as were thefe the effect of Art or Prudence, 
 which always aft upon choice, there muft 
 be a variety fuitable to the circumftances' of 
 time and place, as you find, in every thing 
 we do. 
 
 Dog. You feem to me, UlyJJes, to argue 
 from mere differences of terms, which are 
 arbitrarily affixed by you to things. So that 
 what is ftiled in you Prudence and Art, is 
 in us no more than Inftind:, or a natural 
 Prevalency. But if ours be lefs liable to 
 O 3 miftakes,
 
 198 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 miftakes, I think it a proof that it is more 
 eligible, and ourfelves more perfedt. So bid- 
 ing adieu to our Controverfy I mall leave you 
 to enjoy your prefent ftate, becaufe you feem 
 to think it beft, and for the fame reafon I 
 fhall continue in my own. 
 
 Exit Dog. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 199 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 */ * 
 
 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 UlyfTes and the Steer. 
 
 Find my felf at prefent 
 rightly qualified to fub- 
 fcribe to the proverb, that 
 nothing is fo equally dif- 
 
 tributed as the Underftanding * : fince there 
 
 * Cartefius takes thefe very words. Di/ertat. de Method. 
 P. i . Dr. Calamy quotes them as a wife reflection of Car- 
 ttfius. Vide liis Sermons. 
 
 04 is
 
 200 D I A L O G U E IX. 
 
 Is not one of thefe beads with whom I have 
 been difcourfing, but is fo fatisfied with his 
 own {hare of it, that he cannot bear to fubmit 
 to the judgment of Man, who can reafon 
 fhiclly, and adt freely. For, that the ftate 
 of a brute is more defirable than ours, is fo 
 monftrous a propofition, that in their former 
 fhape they durft not be fo hardy as to main- 
 tain it. It muft then be owing to nothing 
 elfe but the ftrong prejudice that every being 
 has to itfelf, which may make it abhor a 
 total change, left it mould rifque a diflblu- 
 tion by it. And this jealqufy is perhaps 
 ftronger in Man than in any other creature. 
 I fpeak now of a thorough fubftantial change, 
 not a little accidental alteration j for I fancy, 
 we mould meet with few old fellows, that 
 would hefitate long whether they would be 
 turned back to five and twenty j no fick man 
 would have any fcruples, whether he mould 
 change constitutions with the robuft, or the 
 beggar his purle with the wealthy. But tq 
 fuffer an effential tranfmutation, ib as to be- 
 come quite another creature, is what few or 
 none can bear to think of. This is the beft 
 account I can find for their obftinacy in re- 
 jecting my propofal. But what a beautiful 
 young Steer do I fee coming up, carelefsly 
 
 grazing
 
 UlyfTes and the Steer. 201 
 
 grazing towards me! How much fiercenefs 
 is in his four look, and yet how gentle and 
 tractable is his carriage ! Surely we are much 
 obliged to Nature for this beaft, which feems 
 calculated to do our drudgery both by his 
 ftrength and temper. I will try if he was a 
 Greek, which I mall eafily do, for I obferve 
 he liftens to every word I fpeak, as if he 
 understood me. So, gentle Steer, I adjure 
 thee by thy hopes tell me of what country 
 thou waft before thy change? 
 
 Steer. Of the fame that you were, if you 
 fpeak your mother tongue. 
 
 U/. Then I prefume, you feel the fame 
 longing to return that I do. 
 
 Steer. Not I truly, I always thought that 
 where one is happieft, that is our trueft coun- 
 try. And as I would upon no account re- 
 turn to manhood again, fo neither can I think 
 of quitting fcenes fo delightful and a foil fo 
 fertile. 
 
 UL Do you feel then no compunction no 
 tendernefs for friends deferted, and relations- 
 left behind: No concern for thofe whom to 
 part with, to fome generous minds, has been 
 efleemed worfe than death? 
 
 Steer. For my part, if I had .no other 
 motive to determine me to continue as I am, 
 
 this
 
 202 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 this would be a very ftrong one, that by 
 having my cares difengaged from thofe ex- 
 ternal concerns, they all or chiefly center in 
 myfelf. Hence we live quietly and content- 
 edly with one another, and each being fup- 
 plied by Nature with every thing he wants, 
 there can be no room for hatred, quarrels, 
 envy, rapine, murders by fword or poiion, 
 with a thoufand other calamities, with which 
 your human life abounds, and which made a 
 wife Man fb juftly call it, an ocean of mi- 
 feries. 
 
 Ul. This outcry againft us, methinks, 
 comes with a very ill grace from thofe that 
 are guilty of fuch grofs enormities, whom it 
 would become at leaft not to be cenforious. 
 
 Steer. It muft not be denied, that we alfo 
 have our irregularities; perhaps by the ap- 
 pointment of Nature, which will not fuffer 
 any thing, in this world to be without defedl ; 
 but this we dare affirm, that you fhall find 
 but one vice raging in one fpecies, as Surli- 
 nefs in the Bear, Fiercenefs in the Tiger, 
 Ravenoufnefs in the Wolf, and Gluttony in 
 the Hog. Whereas each of thefe is to be 
 met with in a very flourifhing condition in 
 Man alone. 
 
 Ul. What
 
 Ulyfles and the Steer. 203 
 
 Uf. What you fay may be true of the 
 fpecies, but not of the individual ; it being 
 impofTtble that all vices can be in one, con- 
 fident with his being, though all the virtues 
 may dwell very peaceably in him, that is fo 
 happy as to acquire them. 
 
 Steer. Why fo ? as Nature has furnimed 
 him wirh a genius equal to every thing. 
 
 Ul. Becaufe the vices being contrary to 
 each other, as Cowardice to Ramnefs, 
 Avarice to Prodigality, cannot meet toge- 
 ther in the fame perfon, though the vir- 
 tues, which are affiftant to each other, very 
 well may. 
 
 Steer. And will any man dare to deny, 
 that the virtues are not alfo to be found a- 
 mongft us? 
 
 Ul. Not fo perfect j though there mould 
 be one or more found in a whole fpecies ; 
 whereas one man, I fay, is capable of them 
 all. 
 
 Steer. Our opinions feem hitherto to clafh 
 extremely. 
 
 Ul. So, who mall be judge in the cafe ? 
 
 Steer. I will name one, that is yourfelf, 
 and will demonftrate the point fo clearly, 
 that I (hall freely fubmit the decifion to your 
 ingenuity. To begin, 1 think your wife 
 
 men
 
 204 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 men agree, that * Juftice is an epitome and 
 collection of all the virtues in one, as con- 
 taining them all in itfelf, and giving law to 
 the reft. It is fhe that dictates to the va- 
 liant, and reftrains him from declining dan- 
 gers when glory is the prize. It is by her 
 the temperate man difdains to abandon him- 
 felf fo far to pleafures, as to have no regard 
 to decency. What but this virtue keeps the 
 civilized man from abhorring the thoughts of 
 doing an injury? Nay it reduces all human 
 actions, good and bad, to a proper regula- 
 tion, and one ftandard rule. Not only fuch 
 as are voluntarily entered into by confent of 
 parties, as contracts, loans, mortgages, and 
 the like ; but fuch as men are driven to by 
 revenge, or fome unwarrantable habit, either 
 fecretly, as thefts, an^am" nations, poifonings, 
 treafons, and falfe testimonies ; or openly with 
 a high hand, as robberies, afTaults, disfigu- 
 rations, murders, and the like outrages upon 
 human nature. 
 
 UL It is true; and therefore Juftice has alone 
 been filled the complete virtue-)-; for where- 
 
 as 
 
 * Iheagnis fays of Juftice, 
 *H f ^uc 
 
 f Hierocles fays, that Juftice is the moft perfect of all 
 Yirtues, and <hat like the oftave in mufick, which contains 
 
 all
 
 Uly fles and the Steer. 205 
 as the reft have only a tendency to make the 
 perfon poffefled of it happy in himfelf, this 
 has a more extenfive influence, and confiders 
 the publick welfare. 
 
 Steer. This is the point then on which I 
 (hall reft my argument; if there be no fuch 
 thing as pure lincere Juftice among you, nei- 
 ther, by confequence, can there be any other 
 real true virtue, as amongft us, and there- 
 fore our ftate is more defirable. 
 
 Ul. Your conclufion is very natural and 
 eafy, the only difficulty that remains is to 
 prove it. 
 
 Steer. Will not the conclufion be eftablim- 
 ed, upon a proof of the proportions that 
 infer it ? 
 
 Ul. That is a ftroke of logic that I little 
 expected. 
 
 Steer. I wonder whyj fince you know I 
 was a Greek, and muft be acquainted with 
 it, in the courfe of our education. 
 
 Ul. I grant it, I allow it. 
 
 Steer. The major propofition of the two, 
 I have already fufficiently proved, as you 
 granted, that where there was no Juftice 
 
 all the notes, it includes all the other virtues. So Mr. Dacier 
 tranflates -srao-Jy a'p/jw w^txlix)j? *ruv a'xxwv ; for which 
 fenfe he lays he is indebted to ttte learned Dr. Sa/viati. 
 
 there
 
 206 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 there could be no Virtue, fince you allow it 
 to be the complete Virtue, as containing all 
 the reft in itfelf. 
 
 VI. With all my heart. Go on to your 
 minor propofition. 
 
 Steer. This is as clear as the light > if the 
 received maxim of your learned men be truej 
 that every creature is known by it's actions. 
 Which, if applied to men, will abundantly 
 make out my afTertion. 
 
 UI. If men did all act in one uniform 
 manner, I own there would be fomething 
 in it. 
 
 Steer. But the actions of the majority arc 
 fufficient to juftify an inference. Now, if 
 there was fuch a thing as natural Juftice a- 1 - 
 mong you, and Man lived according to a law 
 written in his heart, what occafion would 
 there be for fuch a voluminous collection of 
 Statutes, to catch the Flies at leaft, though 
 the heavier brutes break through them ? 
 
 UL It muft be confeffed, that if each 
 would follow the law hat Nature dictates, 
 of doing what in the fame circumftances he 
 would defire mould be done to himfelf, there 
 could be no want of any other rule, though, 
 to fay the truth, they feetn to be interpreta- 
 tions and comments on the natural Law, and 
 
 as-
 
 Ulyffes and the Steer. 207 
 
 as far as any of them deviate from the ori- 
 ginal they are faulty. For as in fpeculation 
 there are fome truths fo evident that they 
 need no proof, fuch as, that the fame thing 
 can be and not be at the fame time, and 
 other truths again fpring from, and are 
 founded on this : So in practical life, there 
 are certain lights and natural principles felf- 
 evident, fuch as, you fhould not do what 
 you would not have done to yourfelf; upon 
 which all the fuperftruclure of written Laws 
 depend. 
 
 Steer. Now to me they feem rather calcu- 
 lated to interpret this natural Law according to 
 your own fenfe, that it may be turned and 
 twifted at your pleafure, 'till that appears to be 
 right in words which is moft unjuft in facl. And 
 I fancy your experience will agree with mine, 
 that that Lawyer will always be efteemed the 
 moft able in his profeffion, who can beft 
 make the Law fpeak as he would have it. 
 
 Ul. I muft caution you to confine yourfelf 
 to the intention and fpirit of the Laws, and 
 not to the abufe of them; and then let us 
 fee if you will be able from thence to defend 
 what you at firft advanced, that there is no 
 fuch thing as Juflice to be found among 
 men. 
 
 Steer.
 
 208 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 Steer. You muft know then, that Juftice 
 divides itfelf naturally into the diflributivc 
 and the commutative. The firft relates to 
 rewards and punimments, in providing that 
 the Good be properly rewarded, and the Bad 
 duly corrected. The fecond provides for an 
 equitable intercourfe, and juft commerce of 
 things neceffary to the benefit of mankind, 
 eftablifhing a fair method of dealing, by 
 which alone peace can be preferved in civil 
 life. Now if thefe two parts of Juftice can^ 
 not be found among you, neither can the 
 whole, which is never any thing elfe but the 
 aggregate of it's parts. 
 
 TJL But what proves that neither of thefe 
 parts of Juftice, according to your divifion, 
 is to be found amongft us ? 
 
 Steer. Your own experience, unlefs you 
 fuffer yourfelf to be quite blinded by preju- 
 dice. To begin with the firft, what preten- 
 fions have you to an impartial equitable diftri- 
 bution of rewards and punifhments, accord- 
 ing to the merit of the parties, when one 
 fees Virtue fo often treated with contempt, 
 or perfecuted with malice ? 
 
 VI. One would hardly believe, that there 
 could be any motive for doing violence to the 
 Good and Innocent. 
 
 Steer,
 
 Ulyfles and the Stee? 4 . 209 
 
 Steer. I can tell you of one j that a good 
 man is a {landing reproach to a villain, who, 
 by having fuch a comparifon at hand, fees 
 his own corrupt actions fet in a ftronger light. 
 Caft your eyes upon what form of govern- 
 ment you plcafe in Greece^ either that by one, 
 by few, or by all, and I will anfwer for it, 
 you will be furnifhed with variety of exam* 
 pies, where through intereft, envy, or fome 
 other fcandalous motive, the felf-iame action 
 has been rewarded in one, and cenfured, or 
 perhaps punifhed, in another j and fo the re- 
 verie. 
 
 Ul. But granting all this ; How does our 
 want of juftice prove that you abound with 
 it ? Or how does it appear that you have any ? 
 
 Steer. From our actions, as far as our cir- 
 cumftances will admit. When did you ever 
 fee in our combats, the appiaule beftowed 
 but on the conqueror, whilft difgrace always 
 purfues the unworthy? 
 
 Ul. Thefe may be well known truths a* 
 mong yourfelves, for aught I knowj fo I 
 mall not difpute them with you j but haften 
 to the fecond branch, and fee how much 
 commutative Juflice is to be found among 
 brutes. 
 
 P Steef.
 
 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 Steer. I can readily tell you j juft as much 
 as is to be found among men, that is not one 
 {ingle grain of it : Only with this difference, 
 that we, by having every thing in common, 
 as having no occafion for this virtue, have 
 never cultivated it : But you, where every 
 thing is cantoned out into property, and can- 
 not poflibly fubfift without it, have, through 
 your infatiable avarice, and luft after riches, 
 quite banifhed it from the world. So that in 
 all your contracts and tranfactions, your fole 
 care is to get, no matter by what means, or 
 *t whofe expence. And he that fucceeds beft, 
 by the vile arts of fraud and falfhood, is fure 
 to have his addrefs in bufinefs highly ap- 
 plauded : Which feems to me to juftify the. 
 practice. 
 
 Ul Oh ! fie ; what juftify dimonefty ? 
 
 Steer. Why not, when it is the fure road- 
 with you to honour ? How many wretches 
 could I name (whofe mean natural abilities 
 would mark them out in low life for con- 
 tempt) in fuch high efteem, merely from the 
 advantages of fortune, as to have every folly 
 extolled and each inlipid fentence liftened ttf 
 with admiration ? Nay your common pro- 
 verbs, in every body's mouth, feem calculated 
 to countenance and propagate the notions, 
 
 baft
 
 Uly flcs and the Steer. 2 1 1 
 
 bafe as they are, of the merit of riches, and 
 the crime of being poor. And yet I fancy 
 when thefe great men, that have had their 
 thoughts fo debafed, and quite immerfed in 
 the defire of riches, come to part with this 
 World, they can give no more account of it 
 than if they had never been in it. Having 
 neither examined their own nature, or ob- 
 ferved the beauties that are every where dif- 
 played to them through the univerfe. For 
 them the beauteous ftructure of the world 
 was made in vain> and all things might as 
 well have continued in the confufion of the 
 firft chaos t their eyes were fo conftantly 
 turned down upon their darling treafure, as 
 never to be caft up towards heaven, to con- 
 template the wonderful appearance of fuch 
 immenfe orbs, rolling round them in perpe- 
 tual harmony. And yet thefe are but the 
 degrees and fcale by which their thoughts 
 mould mount up to more amazing and more 
 divine fpeculations. And what aggravates 
 the cafe is, that even with fuch wretches the 
 poor man is fo defpifed, that his natural ad- 
 vantages are of no more account than the 
 ftrength of a ilave, or the venal beauty of a 
 common proftitute. 
 
 P 2 Ul. It
 
 212 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 177. It will be of no fervice to theargument, 
 to (hew that there are irregularities in the 
 actions of men, fince I readily grant, they 
 are fo often drawn afide from their duty to 
 do what in cool difpaffionate thoughts they 
 abhor. But then this is fo far from proving 
 that there is no fuch thing as Jufticc amongft 
 us, that I could at the fame time tire you 
 with examples, of many that would fcorn, 
 upon any confideration, to violate the leaft of 
 her facred laws. Much lefs will thofe ac- 
 tions of yours demonftrate that you have 
 juftice among you, though fome of them may 
 appear under the form of it. 
 
 Steer. That's very hard, if it be true that 
 every creature is to be judged of by it's ac- 
 tions. 
 
 VL Not in the leaft, becaufe they are in 
 you no more than certain habits, from propen- 
 fions implanted in you by Nature j who be- 
 ing confcious, that me had not given you 
 light fufficient to guide you to your happi- 
 nefs, fupplied you with thefe unerring rules. 
 But be ingenuous, do you really know ftric~lly 
 what Juftice is? 
 
 Steer. It is an uniform and conftant will, 
 that renders to everyone what is dueand fit 
 for him. This is the ufual definition, and I 
 
 defire
 
 Ulyfles and the Steer. 213 
 
 defire to know if you have any exception 
 to it ? 
 
 U/. I have not, if by will you mean a 
 habit confirmed by repeated ads. For a per- 
 fon is not to be denominated juft from one 
 or a few ads, but from the whole or general 
 tenour of them. 
 
 Steer. I underfland fo ; having always e- 
 fteemed powers not yet exerted into ads, to 
 be fo imperfect as not to deferve notice. 
 
 Ul. Your own account therefore demon- 
 ftrates, that there can be no Juftice found 
 among you, becaufe you cannot be faid to 
 have a will, which is the fubjed on which it 
 is originally founded. Now the will being a 
 rational faculty, is only to be found in rational 
 creatures. 
 
 Steer. Why can it not be found in the fen- 
 iitive appetite, which we have in common 
 with you? 
 
 UL Becaufe the will is under the influence 
 of the underftanding, which influence con- 
 (litutes the will, and juftice is the regulation 
 of it's operative part. Now this faculty does 
 not only take cognizance of things [for that 
 fenfe can do] but their relations alfo, by 
 which it can affign what is proper to one and 
 what to another, which is more than mere 
 fenfe can do. P 3 Steer.
 
 DI ALOGU E IX. 
 
 Steer. If you won't allow it to be Juftice, 
 pray what is it that fo reftrains our appetite 
 in what belongs to another, that our conduct 
 is much lefs blameable that way than yours ? 
 
 177. I have told you ; it is a principle im- 
 prefied on you by Nature, for your prelerva- 
 tion, under which you aft neceflarily. And 
 thofe operations that proceed from mere Na- 
 ture, no more deferve praife or blame than 
 the ftone deferves to be condemned for tend- 
 ing towards the center, or the fire to be 
 praifed for it's afpiring quality. As to what 
 you fay of your acting freely (for I verily be- 
 lieve you feem to yourfelves to have your ap- 
 petite free) I anfwer, that granting as much 
 as you defire, yet you cannot pretend, that 
 you know perfectly and distinctly what you 
 do j and confequently fuch actions can never 
 be called good and perfect, of which the 
 actor himfelf hath not a, clear diftinct know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Steer. Thefe are refinements and fubtleties 
 invented by yourfelves, to gratify your pride 
 of being fuperior to your fellow creatures. 
 Put whoever fhall judge by your actions, 
 muft conclude, that if you have any Juftice 
 among you, it is only in words, which can- 
 not be faid of us, who have not the art to 
 j exprefs
 
 UlyfTes and the Steer. 215 
 
 exprefs to another the contrary of what w$ 
 feel within ourfelves. 
 
 VI. Let us difcourfe a little morediftinctly 
 upon this virtue, according ta your definition, 
 which is certainly a very ju ft one, and it will 
 fet your miftake in a clearer light. For if 
 Juftice confifts in rendring to all their due^ 
 fhe muft render to the immortal Gods the 
 adoration which is fo much their right. And 
 this either is a part of, or a diftinct virtue fa 
 intimately joined and connected with Juftice, 
 that it is from thence by us called Religion*. 
 Now how is it poflible that you can have this 
 virtue, either entire or in part,, who know 
 nothing of the Gods, nor have any thoughts 
 or belief of their existence ? For having not 
 the ufe of reafon to weigh the properties of 
 motion, and the nature of accidents x as they 
 cannot fubfift of themfelves, but in another^ 
 you could never attain to the knowledge of 
 a firft mover, or an independent fubftance. 
 
 Steer. That is more than I know ; this I 
 am fure of, that there arc amongft us who. 
 pay their reverence each morning to the riling 
 fun, acknowledging him to be the great Mi- 
 nifter of Nature. And amongft the. 
 
 From r(Iiar<y to. bind hard. 
 
 F4 as
 
 216 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 as foon as he breaks out above our horizon, 
 there are thofe that turn towards him, and 
 falute him with a fong. Nay, there are e- 
 ven plants that feem to adore him, by always 
 unfolding their leaves, and turning their flow- 
 ers towards him. 
 
 UI. This proceeds not from any know- 
 ledge of him as a divine creature, but from 
 the joy and comfort they perceive in his light 
 and heat. And that they might enjoy the 
 more of it, they look towards him, and fo 
 exprefs the complacency they feel by fome 
 figns of joy. Let us proceed to the other 
 branch of Juftice, by which we return to our 
 country and our parents what is due to them, 
 called Piety. I fhall not defcant upon the 
 duties to our country, though they are not 
 lefs obligatory than thofe to our natural Pa- 
 rents *, becaufe you cannot be concluded un- 
 der them ; for by having no property, you 
 can have no country or fettled habitation. 
 And then as to your parents, what tribute of 
 fervice or gratitude are you capable of pay-i- 
 ing to thofe, whom you do not fo much as 
 
 * Plato in Critone inguif, T^wr/pay pj'fa xj -srftlpsf. Ifl 
 piajore bonore Patriam habendam, quam Matrtm ff Patrem. 
 Cicero Patriam antiquiorijh Parent em, appellat in Lib, dt'Refub. 
 fcf Epifi. fid Attiwm. 
 
 know,
 
 Uly fles and the Steer. 217 
 
 know, after you come to maturity enough to 
 live without their care ? 
 
 Steer. To obviate the charge, I produce 
 to you the Stork*, who, when his aged pa- 
 rents are difabled from flying, ftirs not from 
 the neft, but nurfes and cherimes them with 
 his blood, and as their feathers drop off, 
 fupplies them with his own, to defend their 
 nakednefs from the cold. 
 
 Ul. An argument from a fingle fpecies will 
 prove but little. And perhaps the ftork does 
 this more to ferve himfelf than his father or 
 mother : For being of a cold nature, and 
 efpecially after one of his large meals of wa- 
 try food, he thrufts himfelf in between them 
 to partake of their warmth. There are be- 
 iides fome duties to fuperiors ; to thofe whofe 
 virtues entitle them to our refpecl, which we 
 call Obedience and Reverence : Pray what 
 footfteps or figns of this are to be traced out 
 among you ? 
 
 Steer. As we are all equal, I fee no room 
 for this mighty difference j though in kind's 
 
 * Petroniui Arbiter *vocat Qconiam Pietaticultricem. Et in 
 flu/amis Hadriani Caconia eft exfrejfa cum infcriptione, Pi ETAS 
 AUGUSTA 
 
 Cujfiodorui far. Ef. 14. Lib. 2. ait Ciconias plumis fuif Ge- 
 nfarwfi mimbra frigija rtfo^tn. 
 
 that
 
 2i 8 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 that ftand in need of a leader you find it very 
 remarkable, as amongft the Cranes and Bees, 
 who have a ftrong fenfe of loyalty to their 
 refpective Sovereigns. 
 
 Ul. If you would call it by it's right name, 
 call it natural inclination. There is alfo a 
 debt for favours received, termed Gratitude ; 
 What place has that among you? 
 
 Steer. You will find us not only grateful 
 to one another, but fo far as even to enter in- 
 to your fervice, merely out of gratitude for 
 our fubfiftence. 
 
 177. That is, you are very obfequious as 
 long as you pleafe, and when you are pleafed 
 to forget them, you return all favours re- 
 ceived with your heels. I fhall not trouble 
 you with any queftions concerning particular 
 friendships (I mean not natural affections, 
 which have nothing to do with juftice) which 
 have virtue for their foundation, and a free 
 approbation of the mind for their fupport: 
 Nor concerning the tendernefs and caution 
 with which we ought to carry ourfelves to- 
 ward thofe that are by Fortune placed below 
 us, all which duties having a long deduction 
 of arguments for their foundation, cannot 
 be expected amongft you, where no reafon 
 ijS. So that I hope by this time you are con- 
 
 vinced 3
 
 Ulyffes and the Steer. 219 
 
 vinced, what unreafonable prejudices your 
 ignorance had poflefTed you with againft us. 
 Steer. Whether I am convinced or no, I 
 find myfelf filenced, which I muft impute 
 to your greater fkill and practice in managing 
 an argument. But if thefe are prejudices, 
 they arc fuch as I fear I (hall never be able 
 to get rid of, as they grew up with me from 
 experience, and fenfitive knowledge, which 
 I mall always think the moft certain. Ne- 
 verthelefs I return you all the thanks due to 
 good intentions, and fo mall beg leave to re- 
 
 tire, and continue as I am. 
 
 CIRCE.
 
 220 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 CIRCE. 
 
 Tranflated from the Italian of 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST GELLI, 
 
 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 
 
 F T E R all it is ftrange, 
 that among fo manyGra'&f , 
 changed into fuch different 
 animals in this ifland, I 
 fhould not find even One that will accept of 
 my offer. So that if the faying in fuch vogue 
 with us in Greece were true, that what great 
 numbers agree in cannot be falfe, one would 
 
 from
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. *2i 
 from hence be apt to conclude, that the ftate 
 of animals void of reafon was preferable to 
 ours. But the obferyation, J fancy, holds 
 good only in things relating to active life; for 
 in things merely fpeculative, I mould oppofe 
 to it that other general rule, that we fiould 
 think <witb the Jew, though we Jpeak ivitb 
 the many ; whom I find always ftigmatized 
 with the character of unconftant, fickle, va- 
 rious ; and whatfoever elfe denotes incon- 
 iiderate and obftinate. The only way then 
 to reconcile thefe oppofite aphorifms (for I 
 have a tender regard for every proportion 
 that is eftablilhed upon long experience) is 
 to fay, that the firft relates to practice, the 
 fecond to theory. As, therefore, the know- 
 ledge of the dignity of human nature, and 
 wherein confifts it's fuperiority to animals 
 without reafon, is the object of theory, which 
 alone examines truth, it is no wonder if the 
 many fall into grofs miftakes about it. I find 
 then, J can hope for no fuccefs this way ; fo 
 am refolved with my little crew, which Circs 
 has already reftored, and the bark now rid- 
 ing at anchor impatient for my return, to 
 fet fail immediately for Ithaca. For if it is 
 not in my power to ferve them, I ought to 
 put it out of theirs to differve me. A hu- 
 man
 
 222 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 man creature amongft brutes muft live, like 
 them, according to imagination and fenfe : 
 Whereas amongft rational creatures, a life 
 regulated by the rules of art and prudence 
 will lead me infenfibly towards perfection : 
 Or rather, by proceeding daily from one de- 
 gree of it to another, I {hall arrive at a ftate 1 
 of happinefs and contentment* 
 
 Come on then, let us to the more, and 
 let wifdom, as me always ought, begin at 
 home. But ftay! what creature of im- 
 menfe fize do I fee ftalking along the ftrand. 
 Surely j unlefs the diftance deceives me, it 
 muft be an Elephant. How aftonifhing is 
 the variety that Nature exercifes in the pro- 
 duction of animals 1 I am fo taken with his 
 prefence, that I begin already to wifh I may 
 find him to have been a Greek. I will put 
 the queftion to him, and if he anfwers my 
 Expectation, it will give me a real pleafure, 
 to find my labour not altogether thrown a- 
 toay. Tell me, Elephant, (if, as I think, 
 thou waft once a man) who thou waft be* 
 fore thy change? 
 
 Elephant. A Greek < of the renowned 
 city of Athens in which I for many years ' 
 gave myfelf up to the ftudy of philofophy. 
 /iglaophemus was my name : But pray let me 
 
 know
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 223 
 know why you afk me ? For this is agreeable 
 to the character of a Philofopher, who is fup- 
 pofed to be always inquifitive into the caufe 
 of every appearance, and always defirous of 
 fatisfying his thirft after knowledge. 
 
 Ul. Thanks to the immortal Gods, that 
 I have at length difcovered a lover of truth, 
 and one that is indeed worthy to be called a 
 Man. Know then, Aglaopbemus, that Circt 
 has granted me the power of reftoring to 
 manhood every Greek transformed in this her 
 ifland, but with this condition, that they 
 themfelves are defirous of it. Warmed with 
 the defire of delivering my countrymen from 
 fuch vile imprifonment, I have with great 
 carneftnefs urged my privilege with every one 
 that I met with ; but have not been fo hap- 
 py as to light on one that would accept of 
 my offer, or feemed at all fenfible of the 
 dignity of the human, or of the bafenefs of 
 their prefent condition. 
 
 Eleph. But whence do you collect, that 
 you mall find me more agreeable to your 
 fcheme ? Or what pretenfions have I above 
 the reft, to be thus emphatically ftiled a 
 Man? 
 
 VI. From your profeflion ; which is de- 
 firous of knowing the truth, and is indefati- 
 gable
 
 224 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 gable in it's refearches after it. Whereas the 
 others being either Farmers, Fifhermen, Phy- 
 ficians, Lawyers, or Gentlemen, who always 
 propofe to themfelves either profit or pleafure ; 
 and fancying that they find a higher enjoy- 
 ment of fenfual pleafures in their prefent ftate 
 (though they may be greatly miftaken) it is 
 no wonder if they are fond of continuing as 
 they are. But a Philofopher, whofe only aim 
 is truth, muft hold in low efteem all the 
 pleafures of fenfe, that he might arrive at 
 that happinefs of mind that is his perfection. 
 This is to at according to the human na- 
 ture; and fuch a&s conftitute the man. 
 Whilft he whofe life is paffed over in the 
 gratifications of a beaft, no more deferves the 
 name of a man, than what is void of heat 
 merits to be called fire, or that to be called 
 light where nothing is vifible. 
 
 Eleph. I muft own myfelf to have been 
 feverely attached to truth ! It was the love 
 of this that firft put me upon the ftudy of 
 philofophy, and after that moved me in queft 
 of it to leave my native country, and travel 
 through the world ; till at length arriving at 
 this more, I was changed by Circe into what 
 you fee me ; which ftate whether it be more 
 eligible than yours I am not yet fatisfied : 
 2 However
 
 Uly ffes- atid'tha Elephant. 225 
 
 However I (hall not take your word for it ; 
 but proceed in the method of the Philofophers, 
 who though they won't embrace a propofi- 
 tion without the reafons for it, yet neither 
 will they reject it, though it does not appear 
 evident to them, unlefs it be contradictory to 
 fome known principle, and contains within 
 itfelf fome manifeft abfurdity. For he that 
 will not believe any thing can be but what 
 he underftands, will not be very likely to 
 improve himfelf. So that I {hall very pa- 
 tiently liften to the reafons you have to offer, 
 why it will be fo great an advantage to me 
 to be reflored to manhood. And if I find 
 them as convincing as you feem to imagine, I 
 will inftantlydiveftmyfelf of myprefent fhape, 
 refu me yours, and fetfail with you in tranfport 
 for Greece. 
 
 UI. And I, in return, give you my word 
 of honour, that if you mail prove to me, 
 that yours is preferable, I will immediately en- 
 treat the Goddefs to transform me into one 
 pf thefe beads, and pafs the reft of my days 
 here with you. So much am I taken with 
 your engaging difcourfe, and modeft manner, 
 fo truly worthy of a follower of right reafon. 
 
 Etefb. You engage for more than I mall 
 infift on, though you mould not prove your 
 
 point.
 
 226 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 point. For I well remember, that in my 
 own tranfmutation, I underwent fuch a fcene 
 of fatigue and horror, that it is not a little 
 advantage that fhould make me fubmit to 
 another change myfelf, or defire one in you, 
 though I muft own to you, 1 am not quite 
 fatisficd that my condition is altered for the 
 better. But propofe your arguments for the 
 great excellency of your own ftate, which 
 urge you fo ftrongly to perfuade me to a 
 change. 
 
 Ut. I fhall ; and in compliance to your 
 education will proceed philosophically. You 
 know then, that though in Nature there is 
 an almoft infinite variety of creatures, there 
 is not one that does not act in a manner pro- 
 per and peculiar to itfelf. This arifes from 
 that form which constitutes it's particular be- 
 ing. So that till it ceafes to be it cannot 
 ceafe thus to act. 
 
 Eleph. True, elle Nature would have 
 made fome thing in vain -, which is impof- 
 fible. 
 
 Ul. You know alfo, that the nature and 
 effence of agents is known by their opera- 
 tions. And that thofe are efteemed better, 
 and more noble whofe actions are fo j it be- 
 ing not given to man to know caufes but by 
 their effects. Eleph, 
 
 3
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 227 
 
 Elepb. True ; for to underftand caufes 
 originally, and from thence to deduce their 
 effects, feems to be referved only to the firft 
 Origin and Caufe of every thing. 
 
 Ul. From hence you will clearly infer, 
 that the nature of man is more perfect than 
 that of the hearts. For what do you take 
 to be the diftinguifhing property of animals? 
 
 Eleph. I fuppofe fenfe ; becaufe to live, 
 to grow, and to propagate it's kind, it has 
 in common with vegetables. So that it is 
 fenfe alone that belongs to them as animals. 
 
 Ul. What do you underftand by fenfe? 
 
 Eleph. The knowledge of the nature of 
 things, by the affiftance of the fenfes. 
 
 Ul. And in man what ? 
 
 Eleph. I mould fay the fame j though 1 
 know that knowledge in man is called 
 intellective, and in brutes fenfitive. For nei- 
 ther can you know any thing but by the 
 fenfes. 
 
 UL It is neither true that it is the fame 
 thing j nor that we can have no notion of 
 any thing but by the fenfes. It being cer- 
 tain that the underftandirig can form within 
 itfelf many things clearly intelligible, and 
 make thofe again productive of others, with- 
 out the interpofition of fenfe; But then it 
 
 mult
 
 228 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 muft be granted, that the prime fource of 
 thefe images is from the fenfes, and that 
 we underftand nothing but whofe origin is 
 deducible from thence. And fo far only the 
 proportion you advanced is true. 
 
 Eleph. Thefe are whimfies and extrava- 
 gancies that are of no real advantage to the 
 mind, but rather ferve to miflead and per- 
 plex it. Whereas we are humbly fatisfied 
 with knowing only things ufeful, neceffary, 
 or agreeable to us, and in thefe I don't fup- 
 pofe that our knowledge comes one jot fhort 
 of yours. 
 
 177. It no more becomes you to be pofitive 
 in thefe things, than it does a blind man up- 
 on the.fubjecl: of colours. 
 
 Eleph. But I mall prove what I fay to 
 you. Tell me, pray is not the moft certain 
 knowledge the moft perfect ? 
 
 VI. Yes. 
 
 Eleph. But the knowledge that comes by 
 the fenfes is the moft certain. 
 
 Ul. Who taught you this ? 
 
 Eleph. Myfelf : For whilft I fee that the 
 leaves of the bay tree oppolite to us are 
 green, if the united voice of all the world 
 fhould affert the contrary, I could not believe 
 them. 
 
 UL And
 
 Uly ffes and the Elephant. 229 
 
 Ul. And yet how could you be fure that 
 you are not miftaken } or that they would 
 not be in the right ? 
 
 Eleph. How could I be more fure of it 
 than by feeing it ? 
 
 177. By being certain beyond all doubt, 
 that your eye could not be deceived ; and 
 this you may be, by the affiftance of the un- 
 derftanding ; fo that you are capable of be- 
 ing more fure of it than by the bare fenfe. 
 And that this is fo, give me leave to afk you, 
 do you fee the fun there ? Well ; and pray 
 does it feem to move or not ? 
 
 Eleph. It appears to me not to move. 
 
 Ul. What fize does it feem to be of? and 
 of what colour? 
 
 Eleph. As to it's fize, I fancy it is near 
 about fuch a body as you yourfelf would make, 
 if caft into a fpherical figure. And it feems 
 to be near of the fame colour with thefe o- 
 ranges. 
 
 Ul. I defire no ftronger proof how much 
 you may be miftaken, in any reprefentation 
 made by the fenfes, unaffifted by the under- 
 ftanding. For of three things of which you 
 was entirely fatisfied, two of them are en- 
 tirely fulfe. 
 
 Elepb. Which two do you mean ? 
 
 Q 3 UL That
 
 230 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 UI. That the fun is motionlefs, and no 
 bigger than you defcribe it. As to the ra- 
 pidity of it's motion, it is agreed, that no 
 fenfible fwiftnefs, not that of the moft im- 
 petuous arrow upon the wing, can bear any 
 proportion to it. For not with ftanding it's 
 immenfe diftance, it is whirled by the mo- 
 tion of the higheft heavens once every day 
 round the earth*. The fpace it runs through 
 therefore daily, muft as much exceed the cir- 
 cumference of the earth, which is held to 
 be more than two and twenty thoufand miles, 
 as the fun's diftance from the centre of the 
 earth exceeds the earth's -J- femidiameter. 
 And as to it's magnitude, it is by calculation 
 about one hundred and fixty-five times bigger 
 than the earth, which is well known to any 
 body at all converfant in the mathematicks. 
 Nor are we lefs certain of this, than you are 
 that the bay leaves are green : In which you 
 are not miftakeii; but you have not the full 
 proof that you are not, without the aid of 
 reafon. 
 
 Elcpb. How fo ? 
 
 * That is according to the Ptolemaic Syftem. 
 \ Which at a medium between his greateft and haft dijlance 
 is, 81,000,000. of miles. 
 
 UI. Becaufe
 
 Uly ffes and the Elephant. 231 
 177. Becaufe it is by that alone we diftin- 
 guifh what is the proper object of one fenfe, 
 from what is common and perceptible by 
 more. By this then it would be clear to you 
 that you could not be deceived in the per- 
 ception of the proper object, under the ne- 
 ceffary circumftances of a due diftance, a 
 fuitable medium, and the like : And at the 
 fame time, how liable we are to errors, when 
 we pronounce from one fenfe, a judgment 
 upon objects common to more. Thus under 
 the requifite conditions, you could not err in 
 your judgment upon the green leaves ; colour 
 being the proper object of the eye : But when 
 you came to fpeak your fenfe of the magni- 
 tude and motion of the fun, you fee how 
 you blundered, and that for the reafon I told 
 you. So little caufe have you therefore to 
 boaft of the knowledge conveyed by the 
 fenfes, that without the affiftance of the un- 
 derftanding, I will venture to affirm it to be 
 the loweft. 
 
 Eleph. Pray are there then more ways of 
 knowing ? 
 
 Ul. The powers and faculties of percep- 
 tion are of three orders or degrees. The 
 firft is of thofe pure immaterial intelligen- 
 ces, who are fuppofed to prelide over the 
 
 -f- motions
 
 232 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 f- motions of the heavenly Mies. The pro- 
 per objects of which (as their own effencc 
 arifes not from any corporeal form, and is 
 not dependent upon any modification of mat- 
 ter) are thofe forms that are felf-fubfiftent, 
 and independent of matter. But if thefe 
 take any cognizance of material forms, it 
 muft be by a reflexive act, from fpecies with- 
 in themfelves, or by actual intuition on the 
 || firft Caufe, which, as it produced all 
 things, muft contain them all in itfelf. The 
 fecond power is the reverfe of this ; which, 
 as it arifes from a modification of body and 
 organized matter, from which it is infepara- 
 blej it can have only material forms for it's 
 object, and thole only as they are actually in- 
 herent in matter. And becaufe matter is the 
 principle * of divifion and diftribution into 
 particulars, it follows, that this power can 
 only take in particulars, and this is what we 
 call fenfe. There is alfo a third power or 
 faculty of perception, of a middle nature 
 
 f The Pythagoreans taught, that God afligned to the in- 
 ferior Gods, the different fpheres of the heavens. See more 
 of this in Plato 1 ?, Tim&us. 
 
 J UquTov airier. 
 
 * This is according to the Pythagoric fchool, that the t% 
 being undeterminate as to any. fhape, is the caufe of divifibi- 
 lity. So Simplicius calls t,'?ujr h*ift(riu<; *lrlai, the caufe of 
 diftribution. 
 
 between
 
 Uly fles and the Elephant. 233 
 
 between thefe two, and that is the human 
 under-Handing. Which being not the refult 
 of any material form, or dependent upon any 
 ftru&ure of organs, but a pure power of the 
 foul, has not for it's objed: material forms, 
 as they either are in, or depend upon matter, 
 but fo as me may confider them in their pro- 
 per nature. Hence, when me undertakes to 
 examine them intimately, {he not only ab- 
 ftracts and diverts them of matter, but (trips 
 them of all the qualities attendant on it. So 
 that our underftanding is as much fuperibr to 
 fenfe, as it is inferior to thofe pure intelli- 
 gences that I have been defcribing. 
 
 Elepb. How does that appear ? 
 
 VI. Becaufe there is a greater certainty in 
 it's knowledge. For as fenfe only takes cog- 
 nizance of particulars, and of matter, which 
 are in a conftant motion and variation, it can 
 have no abfolute certainty of them. Becaufe 
 in ftridtnefs, even in the very article of judg- 
 ing, the fcene has fhifted and has undergone 
 a change, and is not only altered, but very 
 different from what it was when it was firft 
 taken into confideration. Whereas our un- 
 derftanding, by dripping things of their fen- 
 fible qualities to their bare eflence ; by di- 
 viding it's parts, and comparing what is ef- 
 
 - fential
 
 234 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 fential and what is only adventitious to it, 
 does acquire an indifputable knowledge of it. 
 
 Eleph. How could you get any true know- 
 ledge this way of fuch a creature, for exam- 
 ple, as man, by confidering him diverted of 
 matter, when he cannot exift without flefli 
 and bones? 
 
 VI. You muft know, that matter may be 
 confidered either in a general refpecft of all 
 things, or elfe in a particular refped: to the 
 individual. The matter common to all men 
 is flefh, bones, and nerves -, what is proper 
 to this man, is this flefh, thefe bones, and 
 thofe nerves. The particular is doomed to 
 a perpetual change, and is ever drawing near 
 to a diflblution. The underftanding confiders 
 man as a rational creature, compofed of flefh 
 and bones, and mortal; in this univerfal way 
 then He becomes unchangeable, and is there- 
 fore capable of being the objecl: of certain 
 knowledge. 
 
 Eleph. Well ; and does not imagination 
 do the fame thing in us ? For you muft al- 
 low, that the pictures of things drawn on it 
 are immaterial, which me can afterwards 
 diftribute into fuch divifions or combinations 
 as flie pleafes. 
 
 VI. It
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 235 
 
 U/. It muft be granted, that the imagina- 
 tion is fo noble a faculty of the foul, that 
 fbme have doubted if it be not the felf-fame 
 thing in us that is called the understanding. 
 And thofe that have not gone fo far, have 
 agreed at lead, that the underftanding is im- 
 perfect without it. But this does not prove 
 it not to be much inferior, and in truth her 
 fervant, to wait upon her in all operations. 
 And this order is obferved in all Nature, that 
 every power* made for the fervice of another 
 is lefs perfect. Thus in yourfelves it is mani- 
 feft, that the external fenfes of hearing, fee- 
 ing, and fo forth, are lefs noble than the 
 common fenfory that takes them in all. So 
 fancy, that is afliftant to difcernment, is of 
 lefs account than her miftrefs. In us it is ftill 
 more evident, for though fancy receives the 
 images of objects immaterially, it compre- 
 hends them with the adjuncts of time, place, 
 and the like, which are effential to matter as 
 fuch : And therefore it cannot ftrip it of thefe 
 circumftances. But this is not the cafe with 
 the human underftanding, which can con- 
 fider things without quantity, time, place, 
 change, or the like properties of matter; 
 
 * T&) <nraVl lrr alfilurtfx run vp VT. Vide At i 'flat. 
 Etbit. Lib. I. 
 
 though
 
 236 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 though it acquires this abftra&ed knowledge, 
 not from the things themfelves, but at fe- 
 cond hand, from their images painted on the 
 imagination. Now though fancy in you can 
 compound or divide fo far as from a horfe 
 and a man to form a centaur j or can figure 
 to itfelf a man deftitute of hands or feet, 
 yet it cannot feparate matter from form, or 
 fubftance from it's accidents, or mix thefe, 
 as our underftanding can do. Becaufe you 
 take thefe in by one iimple act of fenfation 
 in the fame fubjecl. Befides this imagination 
 of yours can reprefent nothing to itfelf, but 
 what you have feen either in the whole or in 
 it's parts. 
 
 Eleph. This is what I mail never grant, 
 it being evident, that many things are the 
 fubjecl: of our thoughts, which we never 
 could fee. When a fheep flies from the wolf, 
 is this from any averlion to his colour, or an- 
 tipathy to his (hape ? 
 
 Ul. No. 
 
 Eleph. Why does me fhun him then ? 
 
 Ul. Becaufe me thinks him her enemy. 
 
 Eleph. And yet fhe never faw fuch a thing 
 as enmity. Which I think is full to our point. 
 
 Ul. It is very true, that you are endued 
 with a certain power, which we call fagaci-
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 237 
 
 ty, that collects and draws from fenfible ob- 
 jects, fome intentions and properties that do 
 not fall under the notice of the fenfes. Such 
 as when a bird fees a ftraw, me fuppofes that 
 it is proper to make her neft, and according- 
 ly carries it off for that purpofe. Or when 
 a meep feeing a wolf, takes him for an 
 enemy, and fo avoids him. Which actions 
 cannot be imputed to the fenfes, becaufe they 
 come not under their cognizance. And this 
 is the motive that prompts you to what you 
 ought to feek or fhun. Never thelefs it muft 
 be owned, that thefe intentions are very few 
 in number, and only fuch as are neceflary to 
 your prefervation, fuch as relate to things 
 hateful, grievous, delightful, profitable, in- 
 jurious, and the like, which are obfervable 
 in our children, before they come to the ufe 
 of their reafon, nay even in ideots. But the 
 judgment in man difcovers properties in things, 
 not only neceffary to his being, but to his 
 more comfortable being in the world. Nor 
 does it do this by natural inftinct, as your 
 meep, without any reflection, flies from the 
 wolf, but acts by a chain of confequences, 
 founded upon a comparifon of one thing with 
 another. This is called thought, and by 
 fome, particular reafon, as it confiders parti- 
 culars
 
 238 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 culars in the fame manner that the undei- 
 ftanding does univerfals. Hence, when a man 
 fpies a wolf, though he judges him to be no 
 friend, yet he does not, like the fheep, im- 
 mediately and naturally fpring from him 5 
 nay, if he fees him fafe muzzled, he is fo 
 far from being (hocked at his approach, that 
 he will out of curiofity make up towards 
 him. But if he fees him running furioufly 
 at him, lank with hunger, and open mouthed^ 
 he concludes that he means him no good, 
 and fo choofes to keep out of the way. This 
 account, I think, gives us fairly the fuperi- 
 ority. 
 
 Eleph. I muft be fo free with you as to 
 own, that fome things of what you have 
 faid appear clearly intelligible to me, and o- 
 thers again leave me quite in the dark. 
 
 UL The fault is in your nature, which 
 cannot raife itfelf up to fuch truths. But 
 embrace my offer, and be once more the moft 
 noble animal in the world, and you will un- 
 derftand it all. 
 
 Eleph. I mould be obliged to you, if you 
 would point out in what this fuper-excellency 
 of manhood confifts. 
 
 VI. You nmft know then, there .are two 
 faculties that diflinguiih man from the whole 
 
 animal
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 239 
 
 animal world, the Underftanding and the 
 Will. 
 
 Eleph. What mighty feats do thefe per- 
 form, to make them deferve to be ib much 
 boafted of? 
 
 Ul. Knowledge is the object of the firft, 
 love and hatred of the fecond. 
 
 E/epb. As they are in us of fenfe and ap- 
 petite. 
 
 Ul. Only with this difference, that in you 
 they go no farther than prefervation, but in 
 us they extend to happinefs. Let us begin 
 regularly with the Underftanding j for a thing 
 muft be known before it can be defired or 
 difliked. Now this is not confined to parti- 
 culars, like fenfe, which is her meaneft at- 
 tendant (and which by reafon of the muta- 
 bility of things, can never extract any fixed 
 truth from them) but comprehends univer- 
 fals j by forming an idea of many individu- 
 als contained under the fame fpecies, in which 
 many individuals equally agree. And this 
 knowledge it acquires after this manner : The 
 fancy prefents to the Underftanding the image 
 or picture of one man, with all the circum- 
 ftances that accompany him as fuch ; in this 
 place, at that time, under fuch a form. And 
 becaufe thefe conditions can only agree to this 
 
 fole
 
 -24 DIALOGUE X. 
 fole individual, fo far the Understanding has 
 only knowledge of a particular. But if after- 
 wards it reflects upon this image, and the 
 fpecies it belongs to, and then feparates them 
 from thefe circumftances, Gripping it of all 
 that related to it as a particular, and an in- 
 dividual, retaining only the human nature in 
 it, it muft form within itfelf an intellectual 
 idea, productive of this univerfal knowledge, 
 that human nature confifts of a corporeal 
 fubftance, mortal and rational, and this is 
 what all mankind equally agree in. 
 
 Eleph. I don't yet fee what advantage this 
 univerfal knowledge, by the Understanding, 
 has over our particular knowledge, by the 
 fenfes. 
 
 UL I will tell you ; a demonstration that 
 what you know is certainly fo, and cannot 
 be otherwife, which is more than mere fen- 
 fitive cognizance can pretend to. Becaufe he 
 that mould find this man, and fo on a fecond, 
 to be a rational creature, would have no proof 
 that every man was fo. Neither would he 
 that fhould fee that a dog is endued with 
 fenfe, or if you pleafe a horfe, have any 
 proof that all dogs, or all horfes, have this 
 quality. But he that knows that man is no- 
 thing elfe but a rational creature, knows that 
 2 every
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 24! 
 
 every man is rational. And he that knows, 
 that an animal is nothing but a body ani- 
 mated with a fenfitive foul, mufl know that 
 every dog and horfe, by being animals, mufl 
 be endued with fenfe. And what is more, 
 he muft be certain that what he knows, is^ 
 and muft be infallibly fo. Becaufe he reafons 
 from it's proper caufe, as the being a man is 
 the caufe that every man is rational ; and the 
 being an animal is the occafion in a dog 
 and a horfe of their being fenfible. 
 
 Elepb. Well, I muft confefs that I begirt 
 already to fee, that your intellectual know- 
 ledge is more noble, becaufe more certain, 
 than our fenfitive. 
 
 Ul. Nay farther, our Underftandirtg need 
 not, like your fenfes, take in the knowledge 
 of things as they are complicated and intire, 
 but can feparate the qualities and properties 
 which compofe them. Thus, for example, 
 when it fees a white object, it knows from 
 itfelf what whitenefs is ; namely a colour 
 jftreaming upon the organ of fight from the 
 furface of fome body. Whereas fenfe can 
 never diftinguifh white from a white body, 
 comprehending under one and the fame act, 
 the fubject, with it's form and accidents: 
 Becaufe colour is not fo much the object of 
 R the
 
 -2-42 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 the organ as the thing coloured > as you may 
 convince yourfelf, by confidering that you 
 pafs not a judgment upon colours, but the 
 thing coloured; and this every man, as well 
 as you, does that follows only the informa- 
 tion of fenfe. 
 
 Eleph. I grant that this knowledge is very 
 clear and diftincl:. 
 
 VI. Farther yet, our Underftanding, in or- 
 der to acquire a perfect knowledge of things, 
 can compound or divide them, by way of 
 affirmation or negation ; which is above the 
 iphere of fenfe. For by knowing that a fub- 
 flance receives and fupports accidents, and 
 that bodies fuftain colours, which are acci- 
 dents, it compounds thefe two natures, and 
 collects that body is a fubftance ; again by be- 
 ing fatisfied that fubftance is what fubfifts of 
 itfelf, but that colour muft fubfift in another, 
 what does it do but divide and feparate thefe 
 two natures, by denying the one to be the 
 other, which forms this proportion, that co- 
 lour is not a fubftance ? And fo on, by the 
 help of many of thefe affirmations and ne- 
 gations, it comes at many truths that never 
 could have fallen under the notice of fenfe, 
 and confequently, muft efcape you. For 
 though you avoid what offends you, this is 
 3 not
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 243 
 not by reafoning, in the way I have been de- 
 fcribing, which is above your capacity, but 
 from the impulfe of appetite, which hurries 
 you from it without any reflection. 
 
 Eleph. So far I underftand alfo. 
 
 U7. Nor is our Underftanding bounded 
 here ; but by revolving and reviewing the fe- 
 veral femblances and images of things depo- 
 fited by the fenfes in the fancy 5 it extracts 
 the knowledge of many things that could not 
 fall under the notice, either of the external 
 or internal fenfes. For it is thus that it ac- 
 quires a clear conception of univerfal natures* 
 of feparate forms^ and heavenly beings^ nay 
 as far as his nature will permit it; to reach 
 even the knowledge of the Supreme Caufe of 
 all things; This is what imagination, faga- 
 city, or the higheft faculty you can boaft of, 
 never can pretend to. 
 
 Eleph. And in what manner do you know* 
 this Supreme Caufe? 
 
 Ul. Not only in a negative manner, as 
 fome have taught, but by fuppofing an ori- 
 ginal Caufe, and then denying it to be capa- 
 ble of any affections that imply defect, fuch 
 as we fee arc the properties of matter in cor- 
 poreal creatures. Such a one then is unpro- 
 duced, incorruptible, unchangeable, not cdn- 
 R 2 tained
 
 244 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 tained in place, uncompounded, of unlimited 
 duration, and the like. Nor have we an 
 idea of him only by the means that others 
 have aflerted, by the way of fuper-excellence, 
 fuch as that he excels in goodnefs, beauty, 
 amiablenefs j all that in the univerfe is good, 
 beautiful, and amiable. But man knows him 
 by infpecting himfelf, by conlidering that the 
 excellence of his own nature confifts only in 
 this, that he can reafon upon all things*, ei- 
 ther thofe below or fuperior to himfelf, and 
 can in fome meafure afTimulate himfelf to 
 them, and become what he pleafes. A far- 
 ther difcovery that he makes is, by examin- 
 ing his own imperfections, that his know- 
 ledge in refpect of all things is only potential 
 and not actual, and therefore he is ignorant 
 at one time of what he may know at another, 
 from hence he forms the idea of an Intelli- 
 gence of a more exalted and perfect kind than 
 his own, always actual, comprehending all 
 things that either are or have been from all 
 eternity, and not capable of any new informa- 
 tion, as containing within himfelf the fpe- 
 cies of whatfoever either has been or can be 
 in the world. This is the firft Caufe which, 
 
 * The original is, intendendo tutte le cofe. 
 
 3 b y
 
 UlyfTes and the Elephant. 245 
 
 by governing all things from the beginning 
 in fuch wonderful order, muft of neceffity 
 be an intelligent Being, and for ever continue 
 to be fo, after one uniform manner of in- 
 telledtion. 
 
 Elepb. Oh! furprizing power of the hu- 
 jnan Underftanding. 
 
 UL And it is the more fo, by being con- 
 fcious that it does underftand ; which is a- 
 bove the reach of fenfe. For though the 
 eye takes in the rays of light, and the ear is 
 affected by founds, yet the eye fees not that 
 it fees, nor does the ear hear that it does fo. 
 For thefe powers being affixed to certain or- 
 gans of the body, cannot reflect and reafon 
 upon themfelves. Whereas the Underftand- 
 ing being a power fpiritual and divine, may 
 be turned in upon itfelf, and fo difcern both 
 it's own faculties and their value, which is, 
 let me tell you, it's peculiar privilege. Hea- 
 ven itfelf, though of fuch purity and honour, 
 is infenfible of it's own worth. And the 
 fun, the firft minifter of Nature, and fource 
 of light in heaven, feels not his own high 
 ftation. But man, who is acquainted with 
 his own excellency, and fuperiority over every 
 other creature, whofe end he feems to be, 
 (fince by knowing their refpective natures he 
 R 3 can
 
 246 D I A L O G U E X. 
 
 can employ them for his ufe) rejoices in him- 
 felf, and feels a fincere contentment and felf- 
 complacency. And that he might be the 
 better qualified for this, he is furnimed with 
 a faculty that treafures up his notions, called 
 intellectual memory, which as much excels 
 yours, as it's objects are more noble. 
 
 Eleph. This makes a farther difcovery of 
 your happinefs. 
 
 1/7. Nay, what is more, Man has this 
 property, that it is not in the power of his 
 Understanding, to entertain a conceit fo ab- 
 ftrufe or fublime, which, by the help of 
 language, he cannot freely communicate. 
 For we don't underftand a voice, like you, 
 only as a fign and expreflion of forne com- 
 mon paffion, fuch as joy, grief, fear, and 
 the like, but by the afliftance of words, 
 \vhofe import we have agreed upon, we 
 can defcribe it juft in the manner we would 
 Jiave it explained. It is by this canal that 
 inflrudtion is conveyed, and ignorance in one 
 man is banifhed by the {kill of another. For 
 though the more knowing cannot always 
 from himfelf imprefs the very thought he 
 would communicate to the fcholar, yet by 
 this means he can put him in a method to 
 form it in his own mind, It was from oh- 
 
 ferving-
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 247 
 ferving this, that the old ^Egyptian fages 
 broke out into fuch extravagant raptures, as 
 to call man the terreftrial God, the heavenly 
 Animal, refident of the Gods, Lord of all 
 below, Favorite of all above, and in a word, 
 the Miracle of Nature. 
 
 Eleph. Without doubt, fo much perfec- 
 tion will require very pompous expreffions to 
 do it juftice. 
 
 UL But there is yet another faculty, and 
 that not a tittle mort of this in point of ex- 
 cellence, I mean the Will, by which we free- 
 ly defire or avoid what is judged right or 
 wrong by the Underftanding: As you fly or 
 purfue what Senfe recommends or deters you 
 from. 
 
 Elepb. Would not the appetite have been 
 fufficient for this, without the addition of a 
 new power? 
 
 //. It evidently would notj becaufe ap- 
 petite, under the influence of fenfe, could 
 only defire or abhor what falls under the no- 
 tice of fenfe. Whereas the virtues or vices 
 which attract our love, or caufe our averliun, 
 could never come under the cognizance of 
 fenfe. This then ennobles the man, by 
 making him the free lord of all his actions j 
 which arifes from it's own freedom, not be- 
 R 4 ing
 
 248 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 ing determined by Nature more towards one 
 extreme than the other. For though the 
 object be good, it is no more conftrained 
 to the purfuit of it than of it's contrary. 
 Whereas mere natural agents, being impelled 
 towards their objects within a certain diftance, 
 muft act as necefiarily as the flame, which, 
 within reach of combuflible matter, cannot 
 but fet it on fire. But in us the Will, though 
 what is good and amiable be propofed to it, 
 and it be difpofed in fome degree rather to 
 purfue it, yet it is free from all force, either 
 to chufe or to reject it. Every other faculty 
 in man, as an animal, owns it's fubjection to 
 this; for though each may be affected by it's 
 object, without the confent of the Will, yet 
 it muft be fo as always to be under it's go- 
 vernment, whenever it pleafes to exert itfelf. 
 Thus, though the fight, when a vifible ob- 
 ject be prefented to it, muft be moved by it 
 naturally, yet the Will can command it a- 
 way, and turn it to fome other; and fowith 
 the reft of the fenfes. And no object, nay 
 no force on earth below, or heaven above, 
 can conftrain it to dcfire what it diilikes. The 
 cafe is very different with the fenfitive appe- 
 tite ; to which when an object is prefented 
 which it defires, the animal is hurried away 
 
 necefTarily
 
 Ulyfles and the Elephant. 249 
 neceffarily and naturally to it, without any 
 choice : As every obferver muft confefs. 
 
 Elepb. Well, but after all where is the 
 great dignity that this confers on human 
 nature ? 
 
 UI. So great that it was this alone made 
 the old fages pronounce him to be the mira- 
 cle of Nature. 
 
 Elepb. Give me leave to afk why ? 
 
 Ul. Becaufe every other creature being 
 under ftated laws, by which it muft at- 
 tain the very end which Nature has prefcribed 
 to it, and no other, jt cannot fuperfede thofe 
 directions : But man, by having his choice 
 free, can obtain an end more or lefs worthy 
 as he thinks fit, by letting himfelf down to 
 creatures much below him, or by emulating 
 thofe as much above. He that elevates him- 
 felf no higher than the earth on which he 
 grows, will become a mere vegetable ; and 
 he that abandons himfelf to fenfual pleafures 
 will degenerate into a brute. Whilft he that 
 looks with an eye of reafon on the glories of 
 the heavens, and contemplates the ftupen- 
 dous regularity of Nature, will change the 
 earthly into a celeftial creature ; but he that 
 dares foar above the grofs impediments of 
 flefh, to converfe with divine obje&s, will 
 
 become
 
 250 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 become little lefs than a God*. Who there- 
 fore can look without aftonifhment on man, 
 not only the moft noble, and the fovereign 
 over animals, but who has this peculiar pri- 
 vilege indulged him by Nature, that he may 
 make himfelf what he will ? 
 
 Eleph. How comes it to pafs then, if the 
 Will has what is good for it's object, and it 
 be unbiaffed in it's choice, that you prefer 
 oftner what is it's contrary, and fly from vir- 
 tue to follow vice? 
 
 Ul. The reafon of this appearance is, the 
 intimate and wonderfully ilricl: attachment 
 and combination it has with the fenfes, and 
 from the neceility the Understanding (whofe 
 light the Will follows) is under, of taking 
 it's information from them, who often mew 
 him an apparent for a real good : So that 
 the Will being diverted and mifled by the 
 one, which is impofed upon by the mifre- 
 prefentations of the other, it muft be grant- 
 ed, if it does not purfue evil, yet it does 
 not fufficiently avoid it j nor does it exercife 
 
 * The Pythagoreajtt propofe the SeJ SpoWw to their 
 fcholars, as the great incitement to virtue. 
 
 Hierac/es, in his commentaries on the Golden Verfes, fays, 
 that they lead to the likenefs with God, which is the aim of 
 the Pythagorean Philofophy. 
 
 the
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 251 
 
 the fovereignity it ought over the fenfitive 
 appetite. So that in truth, all our errors 
 proceed fr6m the irrational part of our na- 
 ture, which we have in common with you, 
 and not from what conftitutes us men. 
 
 ILleph. No more, no more, Ulyjfcs, every 
 moment of delay hinders me from the hap- 
 pinefs I have already been too long deprived 
 of. Let me inftantly put off the Beaft and 
 refume the Man. 
 
 Ulvffes changes him. Which I here grant 
 unto thee, by the authority to me com- 
 mitted. 
 
 Aglaophemus. Oh! miraculous effect, oh! 
 happy change; more happy from the expe- 
 rience I have had of both conditions. This 
 breaks in upon me like a flood of light, up- 
 on a wretch long pent up in darknefs $ or 
 like the pleafures that a profperous change 
 affords one inured to mifery. How I pity 
 the wretches who refufed this offer, that they 
 might wallow on in all the fordid delights of 
 fenfe? Thanks to my benefa&or, who by 
 his wifdom pointed to me out the truth, and 
 by his eloquence warmed me in the purfuit 
 of it. The Gods alone can render you a 
 fuitable reward, for the favours you have 
 conferred upon mej whilft I, in obedience 
 
 to
 
 252 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 to ftrong natural impulfe, make them an 
 humble offering of my thanks, tracing up 
 the blefiings that are beftowed upon me, to 
 the fole original Caufe of all things, from 
 whence they are derived, efpecially this laft, 
 of knowing the imperfedtion of every other 
 creature when compared with man. And 
 becaufe the only return I am capable of 
 making is gratitude, let me indulge it, till 
 it kindles into fome rhapfody facred to his 
 praife. And do thou, Uly/es, whilft thy 
 heart burns with the fame zeal, give devout 
 attention to this holy hymn, which I dare 
 dictate to the world. 
 
 Alienee ye 'winds , ye ivhifp'fing trees 
 Attend-, let limning motion ceafe, 
 Wbilft the Fir ft Mover of the world's great 
 
 frame 
 
 Infpires the fong. Hail ever facred name ! 
 Father, Maker, Source of all 
 T^hat great, or wife, or good ive call, 
 Whether on earth, where foul corruption reigns, 
 Or elfe above, in blifsful azure plains, 
 Where fubjlances divine, in purer day, 
 Flourifo unchanged, unconfcious of decay. 
 
 II. 'Twas
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 253 
 
 II. 
 
 he that ftretctid the pendent earth, 
 Self-poized amidft the concave fries , 
 He gives the guflring fountains birth, 
 And bids the healthful torrent rife. 
 'Twas he, tvhofe bounty ft or* d 
 For wan, imperial lord, 
 With grim inhabitants the 'woods, 
 And peoprd all the genial foods : 
 He jirft the foul enlightened from above, 
 And taught the heart to glow with holy love : 
 For him tti enlightened foul in rapture burns : 
 $Q him the glowing heart his love returns. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ye fpirits pure ethereal train , 
 
 You that rejide in myftick cells, 
 In fecret chambers of the brain, 
 Where menfry and invention dwells, 
 
 Pow y rs, virtues, potentates, 
 'That round the throne of Reafon fland, 
 
 Where free volition waits, 
 Proud to receive her Queerfs command, 
 Sing the Firft Caufe-, ye powers, divinities, 
 Sing to your elder brothers of the Jkies,
 
 DIALOGUE X, 
 
 echoing beav'n Jhall catch the fong di* 
 
 'vine. 
 And all the world in one grand chorus join, 
 
 UL Let me trouble you but with this one 
 queftion more; Were you not confcious of 
 this knowledge of a Firfl Caufe in your bru- 
 tal capacity? 
 
 Agla. No, but inftantaneoufly with my 
 change I felt this light fpringing up in the 
 foul, as a property natural to it. Or rather 
 I mould exprefs myfelf, that it feemed like 
 a recovery in the memory of ideas it had 
 been before acquainted with. But I have 
 this advantage however from my experience, 
 that by having a more perfect knowledge 
 of the excellency of human nature, I draw 
 this conclulion; that as man has been more 
 beloved by the Supreme Caufe, fince he is 
 more honoured than his fellow creatures, the 
 end he ought to propofe to himfelf, fhould 
 be very different from that of other animals, 
 who, by being without reafon, muft be with- 
 out the knowledge of a firft Caufe, 
 
 Ul. Right ; and to carry the thought yet 
 higher, it cannot be but that if the know- 
 ledge of truth is the perfection of the hu<- 
 man mind, and this cannot properly be faid 
 
 to
 
 Ulyffes and the Elephant. 255 
 to be acquired here, whilft we are in this 
 mortal frame, ftruggling under many obftacles, 
 which at beft muft foon end in death j it 
 muft follow, that when the foul is enlarged, 
 and free from thefe impediments, this muft 
 be the fubjed: of it's purfuit in fome future 
 ft ate, unlefs we will fuppofe Nature to have 
 acted in vain. And though man in this pre- 
 fent life cannot, like other animals, attain 
 the end of his nature, and acquire the fum 
 of what he aims at, yet he may be faid to 
 enjoy it in fome degree, whilft he keeps a- 
 bove the grofs pleafufes of fenfe, and lives 
 in a manner agreeable to a rational crea- 
 ture. 
 
 Agla. Let us fly then, my Ufyjfes, from 
 this accurfed more, where this falfe artful 
 woman, with her vile forcery, makes men 
 live like beafts, not only in manners but in 
 fhape alfo. Let us, 1 fay, quit this flavery 
 to return to Greece, and to the full enjoy- 
 ment of all the liberty of reafon. Nor do 
 thou dare truft thyfelf again with the fight 
 of the foul inchantrefs, left by fome new 
 illufion me prevail with thee to remain in this 
 unhappy land. 
 
 Ut. Come
 
 DIALOGUE X. 
 177. Come on then, it is my foul's defire 
 fee ! how the propitious Gods, ever fa- 
 vourable to thgfc who ftrive to imitate them, 
 Jiave prevented OUT wimes, by fending a gale 
 inviting to our voyage. 
 
 N I
 
 nee s 
 
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