Chapter I: Part 1

Transcriber’s Note: The spelling in this text is appropriate for the period in which it was written and published. The text has been checked for errors and a list of changes that have been made appears at the end. Where there was any doubt, the original wording was kept.

Italicised text is indicated _like this_, text that is upright within italic passages or spaced for emphasis ~like this~.

THE
Comical _PILGRIM_;
OR,
TRAVELS
OF A
Cynick PHILOSOPHER,

Thro’ the most Wicked Parts of
the WORLD,

Namely,

ENGLAND, }{ IRELAND,
WALES, }{ and
SCOTLAND, }{ HOLLAND.

WITH

His _Merry_ Observations on the _English_ Stage,
Gaming-Houses, Poets, Beaux, Women, Courtiers,
Politicians, and Plotters. _Welsh_ Clergy,
Gentry, and Customs. _Scotch_ Manners, Religion,
and Lawyers. _Irish_ Ceremonies in their
Marriages, Christenings, and Burials. And
_Dutch_ Government, Polity, and Trade.

BEING

A General SATYR on the Vices and Follies
of the Age.

The Second Edition.

_LONDON_, Printed for _S. Briscoe_, at the _Bell Savage, Ludgate-Hill_,
and the _Sun_ against _John_’s Coffee-House _Swithin_’s-Alley,
Cornhill, 1722

THE

PREFACE.

_As Prefaces now are become common to every Production of the Press, I am resolv’d to be in the Fashion likewise, to let my Reader understand that I am not an Ascetick, or one of those devout Pilgrims, who will travel on Foot to see the holy Sepulchre, the Chapel of ~Loretto~, or some strange Relique; but a comical merry Traveller that would take a Perigrination, on Horseback or by Water, beyond the ~Devil~’s ~Arse~ i’th’ Peak, to see the Religion, Customs, and Manners of foreign People, as well as knowing those of my own Country; contrary to the Sentiments of ~Claudian~, who mentions it as a Happiness, for Birth, Life, and Burial, to be all in one Parish._

_Some Pilgrims may brag of their having seen a Vial full of the Virgin ~Mary~’s Milk; another Vial full of ~Mary Magdalen~’s repenting Tears; the Pummel of the Sword with which the Ear of ~Malchus~, the high Priest’s Servant, was cut off; the Bill of the Cock which crow’d after Saint ~Peter~ had deny’d his Master, set in Silver; an Ell ~Flemish~ of the Cord with which ~Judas~ hang’d himself; a Linnen Apron worn by our Saviour’s hæmorrhoidal Patient; a Piece of the seemless Garment, for which the ~Jewish~ Soldiers cast Lots; one of Saint ~John~ the Baptist’s Eye-Teeth, set in Gold; Saint ~Paul~’s Cloak, which he left at ~Troas~, never the worse for wearing; and talk also of their often meeting with the wandering ~Jew~ in their Travels; these, I say, were Curiosities I valu’d not seeing; but in all Places wherever I came, I made general Observations on the Folly and Vices of the Inhabitants, thereby to correct my own Manners, which, indeed, is a very fine Thing, in either Man or Beast._

_In Order hereto, I have travell’d in three Parts of the World; namely, ~Europe~, ~Africa~, and ~America~; and tho’ Wickedness reigns in all Parts of the World, yet must I needs say, that it is not so predominate in any Place as in ~England~, ~Wales~, ~Scotland~, ~Ireland~, and ~Holland~; where it is as hard to find Religion, Honesty and Virtue walk Hand in Hand, as it was for ~Diogenes~ to find an honest Woman in ~Athens~. This Dearth of good Manners oblig’d me, with the abovesaid Philosopher to turn ~Cynick~; and if by these Lucubrations, I can so far put Folly and Vice, out of Countenance, as to reclaim a wicked Age, it is all the Author desires for the Fatigue of taking a Pilgrimage, by Land and Sea, of above Eleven Thousand Miles, which is more than half the Circumference of the whole Earth._

THE

Comical PILGRIM,

OR,

_Travels thro’_ England.

As _London_ is the Metropolis, or capital City in the World, for Pride, Luxury, and all other Vices; I was very curious of making some Observations on them. In Order hereto, I frequented several Taverns, where was nothing but Drunkenness, and young Rakes vomiting about the Room, and in their _Bacchanalian_ Frolicks (which made them think, with _Copernicus_, the Earth turn’d round) breaking Pipes and Glasses, to inflame a great Reckoning to a larger Sum. I also haunted Jelly-Houses, where was no other Diversion, than seeing proud conceited Coxcombs eating Jellies, with a gilded Pap-Spoon, for Provocation to venerial Sports; which by lighting on a Fire-Ship, might bring them to the Charge and Misery of Pills, Bolusses, Electuaries, and Diet-Drinks; so that these gallanting Stallions, need no other Injunction of Penance, from the most rigid Confessor: And at every common Gaming-House about Town, the Gamesters are as lavishing of their Oaths and Curses, as they are at the Groom Porter’s. One is cursing the Dice, another biting his Thumbs, and another scratching where it doth not itch, whilst others are flourishing their Swords in the midst of twenty G⸺d⸺s, to have their lost Money again.

Think I to myself, the frequenting of these Places, will return to no better Account towards a Reformation of bad Manners, than if a Man should go to a Bawdy-House, to keep out of ill Company. So having heard that a deal of good Manners and Morality, might be learnt, in seeing Plays acted on the _English_ Stage; I then flung away many a Half Crown at the Theatres in _Bridges-Street_, and _Lincoln’s Inn Fields_, but by the immoral, profane, and impious Expressions us’d in the dramatick Writings, whether tragical or comical, I could reckon the Play-Houses, no other than Schools of Iniquity, the Sinks of all Wickedness, and Markets for the Devil. ’Tis out of doubt, that even the Theatres of _Greece_ and _Rome_, under Heathenism, were less obnoxious and offensive, yet nevertheless they stood condemn’d by the primitive Fathers, and general Councils.

The detestable lewd Expressions in the _English_ Plays, can do no less than debauch the Minds, and corrupt the Manners of the Audience; but it must needs strike every good _Christian_ with Horror, to hear on the Stage Almighty God blasphem’d, his Providence question’d and deny’d, his Name prophan’d, his Attributes ascrib’d to sinful Creatures, and even to heathen Gods, his holy Word burlesqu’d, and treated as a Fable, his Grace made a Jest of, his Ministers despis’d, Conscience laugh’d at, Religion ridicul’d, the Catholick Faith and Doctrine expos’d, the sincere Practice of Religion, represented as the Effect of Vapours and Melancholly, Virtue discountenanc’d, Vice encourag’d, Evil treated as Good, and Good as Evil; and all this highly aggravated, by being done in cool Blood, upon Choice and Deliberation.

The Infidelity and Loosness of the present Age, is very much owing to the Play-Houses, where the Infection of most abominable Wickedness, spreads among the Spectators, from the Lady in the Front or Side-Box, to the tawdry Chambermaid in upper Gallery. Men and Women who frequent the Theatre, are, instead of learning Virtue, surrounded with inordinate Temptations, which incite them to unlawful Desires and Actions, which soon end in the utter Ruin, both of Body and Soul. Where Lewdness is represented, in all the Dresses that can vitiate the Imagination, and fasten upon the Memory; and where Pride and Falshood, Malice and Revenge, Injustice and Immodesty, Contempt of Marriage, and false Notions of Honour are recommended, no Good can be learn’d, either by old or young; and this not among _Mahometans_ and _Infidels_, not at _Rome_ and _Venice_, not in _France_ and _Spain_, but in a _Protestant_ Country, and upon the _English_ Stage, without any Fear that the Judgments of God will fall upon them. The _Players_ exposing (as they pretend they do) Formality, Humour, and Pedantry, is not an equivalent for their insulting sacred Things, and their promoting to so high a Degree, the Prophaneness and Debauchery of the Nation.

Those who frequent the Play-House, say (to palliate the sin) a great deal of Morality is to be learnt from Plays; but I cannot perceive what good Morals can be obtained from such Expressions as these. “Sure, if Woman had been ready created, the Devil, instead of being kickt down to Hell, had been married. _Leonora_’s Charms turn Vice to Virtue, Treason into Truth; Nature, who has made her the supreme Object of our Desires, must needs have design’d her the Regulater of our Morals. She’s mad with the Whimsies of Virtue, and the Devil. Damn’d Lies, by _Jupiter_ and _Juno_, and the rest of the Heathen Gods and Goddesses; for I remember I paid two Guineas for swearing _Christian_ Oaths last Night.” As may be seen in several of the comick Writers. However, the Admirers of the Stage must have some Excuse for their Folly, and thus the Devil too, to support Vice, hangs out the Colours of Virtue. Again, we cannot see what Morality can be learnt in, there Expressions in the following Tragedies of _Œdipus_ and _Theodosius_.

_Tho’ round my Bed the Furies plant their Charms,
I’ll break ’em, with ~Jocasta~ in my Arms:
Claspt in the Folds of Love, I’ll wait my Doom,
And act my Joys, tho’ Thunder shakes the Room._ Act 2.

_Nor shall I need a Violence to wound,
The Storm is here that drives me on the Ground,
Sure Means to make the Soul and Body part,
A burning Fever, and a broken Heart._ Act 5. Scene 2.

In which Lines abovesaid may be seen the Lover pursuing his Amours in Defiance of Heaven; and _Varanes_ dying a natural Death, or else he had been so wicked, as to have laid violent hands on himself. Neither are the _Greek_ and _Latin_ Dramatists without their prophane Flights, and wicked Rants: Nay, hear how _Augustin_, that great Father of the Church, in these Words, _Non omnino per hanc turpitudinem verba ista commodius discuntur, sed per hæc verba turpitudo ista confidentius perpetratur_. Confes. lib. 1. cap. 16. condemns the following Lines of _Terence_’s Eunuch, Act 3. Scene 5.

_Suspectans tabulam quandam pictam, ubi inerat pictura hæc, Jovem
Quo pacto Danaæ misisse aiunt quondam in gremium imbrem aureum
Egomet quoque id spectare cœpi, &c._

In short, no good Manners can be acquir’d on the _English_ Stage, by seeing an Actor going a Tiptoe, in Derision of mincing Dames; sometimes speaking full-mouth’d, to mock the Country Clowns; and sometimes upon the Tip of the Tongue, to scoff the Citizen? that thus, by the Imitation of all ridiculous Gestures, or Speeches, in all Kinds of Vocations, they may provoke Laughter. When Stages were first set up in _Rome_, it was accounted infamous to frequent them; and in _England_, Players, both Men and Women, are reckon’d so scandalous, that tho’ they stile themselves his Majesty’s Servants, yet the Statute Law terms them Vagabonds: “Indeed they are so infamously wicked, that one who never saw them in this Life, may nevertheless at the Resurrection, know their Bodies and Souls are Fellows; insomuch that as the Play-House in _Drury-Lane_ has been burnt once already, it would be a Mercy rather than a Judgment, if God vouchsafed to smite them once again.”

The Audience in the Upper-Gallery is generally compos’d of Lawyers Clerks, Valets de Chambre, Exchange-Girls, Chamber-Maids, and Skip-kennels, who at the last Act are let in _gratis_, in Favour to their Masters being Benefactors to the Devil’s Servants. The Middle-Gallery is taken up by the midling Sort of People, as Citizens, their Wives, and Daughters, and other Jilts, who make it their Business to let out their Commodities in Fee-tail, to the first Cully she picks up, after Play is over, for a small Treat, and twelve Pence dry. The Boxes are fill’d with Lords and Ladies, who give Money to see their Follies expos’d by Fellows as wicked as themselves. And the Pit, which lively represents the Pit of Hell, is cramm’d with those insignificant Animals called Beaux, whose Character nothing but Wonder and Shame can compose; for a modern Beaux (you must know) is a pretty neat, phantastical Outside of a Man; a well digested Bundle of costly Vanities; and you may call him a Volume of methodical Errata’s bound in a gilt Cover. He’s a curiously wrought Cabinet full of Shells and other Trumpery, which were much better quite empty, than so emptily full. He’s a Man’s Skin full of Prophaness, a Paradise full of Weeds; a Heaven cramm’d full of Devils, or _Satan_’s Bed-Chamber, hung with Arras of God’s own making. He can be thought no better than a _Promethean_ Man; at best but a Lump of animated Dirt kneaded into Humane Shape; and if he has any such Thing as a Soul, it seems to be patch’d up with more Vices than are Patches in a poor _Spaniard_’s Cloak. His general Employment is to scorn all Business, but the Study of the Modes and Vices of the Times; and you may look upon him as upon the painted Sign of a man hung up in the Air, only to be toss’d to and fro with every Wind of Temptation and Vanity. As for his Apparel, he endeavours to that all should appear new about him, except his Vices and Religion; he’s too much in Love with these to change them; besides, the latter of them he cannot change, because he never had any. When you look upon his Cloaths, you will be apt to say, he wears his Heaven upon his Back; and truly (’tis much to be fear’d) you see as much of it there, as He ever shall. He is trick’d up in such Gauderies, as if he was resolv’d to make his Body a Lure for the Devil; and with this Bravery would make a Bait should tempt the Tempter to fall in Love with him. By this Variety of Fashions he goes nigh to cheat his Creditors; who for this Reason, dare never swear him to be the same Man they formerly had to deal withal. His Draper may very well be afraid to lose him in a Labyrinth of his own Cloth, which fits, or hangs (shall I say?) for the most part so loosely about him, as if it were ever ready to fly away, for Fear of a Bailiff.

His Language and Discourse are altogether suitable to his Garb and Habit, all affected and apish, but indeed, far more vile, sinful, and abominable. When he talks, why then his Time-observing Hand and Foot do so point, accent, and adorn all his phantastick Flourishes, that his Words are often as much lost in his Actions, as his Sense in his Words: Withal using foolish Expressions, as stab my Vitals, run me through the _Diaphragma_, pasitively (not positively) it is so and so; speaking as effeminately, and Molly-like, as the _Ischnotes_, who say, as you may see in _Lilly_’s Grammar, _Nync_ for _Nunc_, _Tync_ for _Tunc_. By Degrees he steps from Idleness and Emptiness, Foolery and Drollery, to Scurrility and Obloquy; so that if his black Breath could blow out, or eclipse those Lights that shine brightest, we should not have one Star left in Virtue’s Heaven; and those Lights which were once sent into the World, to guide him timely and truly out of it into a better, he first endeavours to extinguish, that so he may, without Check or Shame, wander thro’ all the Works of Darkness into Hell. Alas! he sees no such Loveliness in the Things above, as may oblige him to the submissive Courtship of saying his Prayers below; and yet is so confident to enjoy Heaven at last; as if he thought God would be beholden to him for accepting his Blessings; or (as some foolish Lovers take Occasion to double their Addresses from the Unkindness of a coy Mistress) God would the more earnestly importune him to be sav’d, the more disdainfully he looks upon Salvation. If ever he appears at Church, it is but to meditate upon the Ladies, as they sit in their Sunday’s Beauties; and then he returns from the House of God, as most who go thither with no better Intentions, nay ten Times more an _Athiest_ than he went.

The Theatre in the _Hay-Market_ is his sole Delight, where half a Guinea is given for an _Italian_ Song, sung in a new Opera by some foreign Eunuch, or Jilt, with such Quivering, that the Words are lost and confounded with more affected Noise than Harmony. Or else he passes his Time away (as above hinted) at the Play-Houses in _Drury-Lane_, or _Lincoln’s-Inn Fields_, to ogle an impudent Actress, or some female Dancer, who crane’s her Neck with such various Motions, that one would think she was going to break it without the Assistance of a Hangman. Or if he is not at these Places of Pollution and Wickedness, the Tavern he then makes his Exchange; where he endeavours to drink himself so far into a Beast, as if it was his Design to become thereby incapable of Damnation, except he be forc’d to sleep out the last Night’s Intemperance; and thinks himself a Champion, when he can kick two down Stairs at once, the Drawer and his Bottle; and sound the Alarm to the Skirmish, in a loud Peal of new-fashion’d Curses. After all is done there, he walks the Streets as light in his Head, as his Purse; and much oftner salutes the Pavement than the Passengers. The Beau hates no Name so much as that of a _Christian_, he is afraid it would make him melancholy: He travels over the wide World of Sin, till he hath as little Money as Religion, and no more Credit than Money; whereby he is usually at last constrain’d either to lie hid, and so become his own Prisoner, or to pawn his Body to the Marshal of the _King’s Bench_ Prison in _Southwark_, or the Warden of the _Fleet_, for his Chamber; or else, to become a Citizen of the World, and so at last is every where at Home, because he is indeed at Home no where. In fine, I never saw an affected Beau have any Bravery; which makes me think they are related to a certain Attorney, who once resenting my sending an affronting Letter to his Sweetheart, had not the Courage to draw his Tilter, when I _ex tempore_ spoke to him the following Lines:

_Know, Sir, that I was really bred and born
To lash the Vices of the Age; and sworn
To lampoon ~Beaux~, and ~Jilts~; and to condemn
What ~Pulpits~, nor the ~Stage~ dare not contemn:
So Anger, ~Frank~, can no Redress afford,
For to defend my Pen, see here’s my Sword._

Now think I with myself, if this be the Way of _London_, Drinking, Gaming, and Whoring; I’ll e’en retire into the Country, where I thought was more Simplicity and Honesty among the Rusticks than the Citizens; but I found myself mistaken, for going to _Deptford_, I perceiv’d as much Drunkenness among the _Tarpaulins_, as among the Admirers of _Geneva_, at the _Frenchman_’s Bob-Shop, or _dirty-Face Dick_ in the _Strand_; but however, the _Tarpaulin_’s Froes of this Place, as well as at _Wapping, are pretty virtuous, thro’ their Husband_’s _making them go without Smocks, to prevent their Neighbours from taking up their Wives Linnen_. From hence, I went to _Greenwich-Park_, where I found as many Assignations made betwixt Whore and Cully, as in _St. James_’s, or _Hyde-Park_. Here was as much Lying by the Fops in Praise of their Mistresses, as is among Lawyers; as much Flattering, as there is at Court; and as much Dissembling, as in a _Presbyterian_ or _Anabaptist_ Meeting-House; a Folly, which I must own, I have been formerly guilty of myself, when I sent to a young Gentlewoman this amorous Petition, for Flattery is the only Bait to decoy the coyest Virgin in _England_.

_Harmonious Numbers now my Muse does find,
To sing the choicest of your precious Kind.
Thy Wit, as well as Beauty, lovely Dame,
Who first my Breast, and more than Wealth, or Fame,
Exerts my Soul, and is my constant Aim.
The genuine Blushes that your Cheeks adorn,
Were ravish’d from the Rose, or crimson Morn;
The ~Persian~ Insects labr’ing, wrought with Care
The slender silken Threads that form your Hair;
The clear, quick Lustre of your piercing Eyes,
Was shot from Di’monds, or the spangled Skies;
Vermilion ~Coral~ left its ozie Bed,
To flush your balmy Lips with glowing Red;
To frame your Teeth, choice Pearls did crowding come,
Each from its secret Cell in ~Ocean’s~ Womb:
~Arabian~ Sweets did all their Stores transfer,
And fed from Home, to breath in you, bright Star.
~Eden~ once flourish’d like your blooming Face,
Your Shape, your Mein, and unaffected Grace,
From Heav’n the first of Females once possess’d,
Created as a Pattern to the rest:
From Spring your Gaiety, from calmest Brooks
Was wafted the Sereneness of your Looks;
Sweet ~Philomel~, as she departing, sung,
Bequeath’d the Musick of your silver Tongue;
The Down of Swans, and Lillies, or the gay
And fragrant Bloom that crowns the youthful May,
To frame your Skin, did gracefully unite
Their yielding Softness, and unblemish’d White:
The vast Cerulean Sky, Earth, Sea, and Air,
Did then combin’d, and various Stores prepare
(At Heaven’s commanding Call) to frame you fair.
They fram’d you of their rarest Treasures joyn’d,
And in the Mould an Angel’s Soul unshrin’d
Therefore, fair Virgin, whose most dazling Charms
Can Saints and Anchorites bring to your Arms,
Let us this Day, for it’s a Law divine,
Offer our mutual Hearts on Cupid’s Shrine;
Revel, whilst living, in the Joys of Love,
Like thund’ring Jove, and other Gods above;
For if we slight bright ~Venus~ while we’ve Breath,
There’ll be no Thoughts of loving after Death._

But being soon tir’d of _Greenwich_, I proceeded on my Pilgrimage to _Gravesend_, where, (and at _Stroud_, _Rochester_, and _Chatham_) the Vintners, Innkeepers, and Victuallers, are more extortioning than any Pawn-Broker, who has the Honesty to take no more than _Cent. per Cent._ for what Money they lend. Hereupon, bidding adieu to the County of _Kent_, I rambled through the County of _Surry_; but it being Assize-Time when I arriv’d at _Kingston_ upon _Thames_, I found I was leap’d out of the Fryingpan into the Fire, for Provisions and Lodging were then as dear as a Suit of Law in _Chancery_; so that I rid forthwith into the County of _Sussex_, where I saw nothing but a Parcel of Bumpkins and Milk-Wenches returning all home, as drunk as _David_’s sow, from a Country-Wake. Thence, I went into _Hampshire_, where Rusticks are as fat as their Hogs and as liquorish as those who buy their Honey. In this County is _Southampton_, where the Sword of Sir _Bevis_ is held in as much Veneration by the Towns People, as a Piece of Paper worn by ’Prentice-Boys, and Servant-Wenches on _Valentine_’s Day. Hence, I went to _Portsmouth_, betwixt which Place and Hell, the Soldiers garrison’d here say, there is but only a Sheet of brown Paper; however, it is honour’d by giving the Title of a Dutchess to _Squintabella_, _alias_ Madamoiselle _Louise de Querouaille_. At this Sea-port, crossing the Water, I reached at the Distance of three Leagues, the _Isle of Wight_, and proceeded to _Carisbrook_ Castle, which inwardly, (as well as outwardly) is much out of Repair, especially the Room in which King _Charles_ I. was confin’d a Prisoner, a little before the horrid Murder perpetrated on him, the then prevailing Party, who under a Stratocracy or Army-Power, brought him to the Block, and then conspir’d to overthrow the well settled Constitution of this Kingdom with Anarchy, and Confusion which unparalleled Piece of Villany incited me to write _ex tempore_ on the Wall of that fatal Place, the following Lines.

_What dismal Horror, and as dismal Gloom,
Invades the hallow’d Silence of this Room!
Where Majesty in Mourning sat, to wait
The wreched News of his more wretched Fate;
Curst Spawn of Schism! to give the fatal Shock,
Which sent a King a Martyr from the Block.
The barbarous Act, which smote his Royal Head,
Our Calendars shall ever die with Red;
To paint the Overthrow of th’ Church and State,
In the rebellious Times of Forty Eight.
My Muse, with the shrill Eccho of these Walls,
For Vengeance on the bloody Nation calls;
And weeps, till fruitful ~Albion~ is freed
From the ~Fanaticks~ pestilential Breed;
An Offspring sprung from that most odious Race,
Whose Hanging would the ~Tripple-Tree~ disgrace.
The Royal Captive here remained in Tears,
Till ~Bradshaw~ doom’d a Period to his Years;
But now the injur’d Saint in Peace does dwell,
While those that judg’d him, burning are in Hell._

Getting cross the Water again, from this dismal Isle, I no sooner set Foot upon _Terra firma_, but I made the best of my Way for _Berkshire_; where I took a Survey of _Windsor_ Castle, and then thought myself as well Qualify’d as any Knight of the Garter, to take a Pilgrimage whither I pleas’d: So with a full Body, and an empty Stomach, (for you must know, we Pilgrims live not very daintily) I went into _Wiltshire_, where I as much admired the Cathedral of _Salisbury_, (as an Antiquary, doth an old Tomb; who will go forty Miles, and more to see it) because it contain’d as many Windows about it, as a _German_ Countess did once Children in her Womb, which were just three hundred sixty five, the precise Number of Days in the Year, unless it happens to be _Bissextile_ or Leap-Year, which has one Day more. Hence, I went with a light Heart, and a thin Pair of Breeches into _Dorsetshire_; where being nothing remarkable to take Notice of, it came into my Noddle to make the following Acrostick on Nothing.

_N othing was the first Matter made the World;
O n Man e’er since nothing but Plagues are hurl’d.
T he Tye of Wedlock’s nothing but a Snare:
H onour’s like nothing but the empty Air.
~I rishmen~ are nothing but Fools void of Sense
N othing is Sin but publick Insolence.
G old! Gold! and nothing else quits the Offence._

Next, I went a pilgramaging into _Devonshire_, which might be properly call’d _Devilshire_, for seeing how the Inhabitants would eat White-Pots red hot in a Manner, a Stranger would be apt to conclude, they came from whence they have nothing else for their Food but Brimstone and Fire. Hereupon, I galloped strait into _Cornwal_, a County very plentiful of Wood-Cocks, not only flying in the Air, but you should also see them smoaking or tipling in every Chimney-Corner, in Winter. Thence, I rambled into _Somersetshire_, where, at the _Bath_, I saw so much Whoredom committed, that I thought the Men, or Women neither had Occasion to wash themselves in hot Water, when their Bodies were all on Fire before; unless it was to make an Experiment of that Aphorism in Physick, which says, one Heat drives out another. Not liking this Place, I took a Pilgrimage (I can’t say Tour, or Progress, because Pilgrims are not Noblemen) into _Gloucestershire_, where I saw the Sins of the People were as red as the Scarlet they die; so I soon shook the Dust off my Shoes, as a Testimony against their Wickedness, and went to _Oxon_.

No sooner was I enter’d into _Oxfordshire_, but I was in as longing a Condition, as the big-bellied Woman was for a bite of a Butcher’s Arm, to see the most famous University of _Oxford_; thinking that in that Academy and Nursery of Learning, I should see Piety, and Virtue, climb up to the very Apex of Glory; but too soon were my Hopes frustrated, for instead of Religion and good Manners, I beheld nothing but Irreligion and Prophaneness; for the Scholars were so far from being religious, that they were asham’d of nothing so much as that any should have the Charity to think them so. They seem’d to cry out upon _Eve_, for a lazy and dull Sinner; whilst in every Oath they loudly swore, that Soul not worth damning, that could not sin without a Temptation. By their horrible and hideous Oaths they shew’d, as if indeed they had this desperate Design upon Almighty God, to render his sacred Name odious to the World, by taking it often in their profane Mouths. Their chief Delight was to dwell upon the sore Place of an obscene Poem; at the same Time never commending the Poet, but for his Infirmities. Those Sparks call’d Gentlemen Commoners, were so fantastical and prodigal, that they walk’d as if they went in a Frame; next as if both Head and every Member of them turn’d upon Hinges. Every Step they took, presented me with a perfect Puppet-Play; and _Rome_ itself could not in an Age have shew’d more Anticks, than one of these Blades was able to imitate in half an Hour. Here those who have Money enough allow’d them by their Friends, learn first of all to make Choice of their boon Companions, how to rail at the Statutes, and break all good Orders; how to wear a gaudy Suit, and a torn Gown; to curse their Tutors by the Name of _Baal_’s Priests, and to sell more Books in half an Hour, than they had bought them in a Year; to forget the second Year what, perhaps for want of Acquaintance with the Vices of the Place, they were forc’d for a Pass-Time to learn in the first, and then they think they have Learning enough for them and their Heirs for ever.

Thought I to my self, if this is _Oxford_, the Devil take the Collegians and Citizens too, for there was never Barrel the better Herring betwixt either of ’em; one was full as bad as the other, so I e’en made the best of my Way into _Buckinghamshire_, where, at _Eaton_ College, finding the Scholars to have more Guts than Brains, and less Learning and good Manners than either of the two, _Utrum horum mavis accipe_, as you may see in _Syntaxis_. I rambl’d through _Oxfordshire_, again into _Worcestershire_, where I observ’d nothing material, but poor Skeletons of Men and Women, knitting Mittins and Stockings; and Children, both Boys and Girls, smoaking Tobacco, in Pipes as black as their Faces, and about an Inch in Length, for a Breakfast. Hence I went into _Herefordshire_, where I thought myself under the same Punishment, as _Tantalus_ was when in Hell, for the Hedge-Rows all along the Roads, being full of Apple-Trees, the Apples would bob at my Mouth, but I could not catch ’em, which I think was tantalizing me with a Vengeance.

I had not been long in this County, before I steer’d my Course for _Warwickshire_, where in the City of _Coventry_, I was shew’d the wooden Picture of a Cobler, which (as the People told me) was made to perpetuate the Memory of one of _Crispin_’s Occupation, whose Mouth watering to peep thro’ his Garret Window, to see the Lady _Godiva_’s _Ay-forsooth_, as she rid naked on Horseback through the City, to release the Inhabitants from heavy Taxes laid upon them by her Husband _Leofric_, he was struck blind for his Sauciness of presuming to look at lac’d Mutton. But above all, this County glories much in that it gave Birth to _Guy_ Earl of _Warwick_, who killing a fierce dun Cow upon _Dunmoor-Heath_, by _Dunchurch_, both which Places (I suppose) take their Names from this heroick Bravery; and for this Piece of Service and other Exploits, as killing a wild Boar; his Memory is also still perpetuated, as well as the abovesaid Cobler’s, in many Victuallers Signs, to this Day.

Next, going into _Northamptonshire_, and Night beginning to creep upon me, I began to be mighty Melancholly, as being all alone; but as good Luck would have it, I overtook a Cordwainer, who (as he told me) was newly recover’d from a sad Mischance; for walking carelesly one Day, he happen’d to have a Fall, and to squat his Breech upon a Hedge-Hog, which he carry’d away as cleverly (it clinging to his Buttocks) as if he had sate upon a Ball of his Wax. Whether there is a Sympathy between a Shoemaker’s Tail, and the Skin of an Urchin, or whether the Bristles of the Creature enter’d the Pores of his Backside, I list not to decide that Controversy now; but however, the Mortal complain’d, that it was an uneasy Cushion, and that that Spinny of Awls, had made a Cullender of his Backside. But being not much concern’d at the Cerebrosity of his scievy Bum, the Eyelet-Holes whereof being not very deep, we went together, till we came to a Church, standing like an Ace, and moping by itself, at some Distance from a little Village; which, whether it ran from the Parish, or the Parish from it, I was not then inform’d; though I have most Reason to suspect the latter, in Regard as to outward Appearance the weak Constitution of the Fabrick seem’d not much to be addicted to run. It seem’d to be very crazy, and had a Muffler of Ivy, which I presume was instead of Crutches; for whereas that feeble Vegetable is usually upheld by the Walls it clings to, I believe it was a Buttress here to support the Walls. But having sadden’d our Aspect with the melancholly Looks of this desolate Temple, we took our leave of it, and shot directly into the Village; at our first Salutation whereof we chanc’d to pop into a dapper Ale-House, mightily stuft with a huge Hostess, whose Moisture distilling through the Pores of her Body, and being somewhat turn’d through excessive Heat, struck our olfactive Nerves with so great a Sowerness, that we had quite been overcome with this Vessel of Vinegar, had she not too much jogg’d herself by an unhappy Fall, and spilt a great Quantity of her unctuous Liquor. The Shoemaker conjectur’d she had lost about five or six Pounds Avoirdupois, from her Rear, and presently concluded she was in great Danger of hanging all a-one-Side, unless some charitable Person should help her with Thrust of assisting Nose. We had scarce prim’d our Pipes, but in comes a Law-Jobber, accompanied with a Bum-Brusher, or School-Master of the Place, who, after some Time, took Occasion to try their Skill and Breeding at Fistycuffs, but (Thanks to the Stars) without any Danger to their Professions; for they did not so much Aim at the Head, as level their Fury at each others Heels, where their Knowledge was not suppos’d to lie, tho’ some there held that they had as much Learning at one End, as they had at t’other.

At this blind Alehouse, I and _Crispin_’s Disciple lay one Night, whence, we sojourn’d together into _Bedfordshire_, till we came to _Dunstable_, a Town builded by King _Henry_ I. to bridle the Outrageousness of one _Dun_, a notable Thief, from whom it takes its Name. Here, Mr. Snob having a Mistress, and being almost within the Atmosphere of her Presence, began to wind her, and had a great Tendency to the Place were she was; so that I might as soon expect a Stone to fall beyond the Centre, as that this Gentle-Craftsman should budge further; wherefore, nothing was expected now, but an immediate Divorce from each others Company; but before we parted, he oblig’d me with the Prospect both of her Person and Fortune. As for the first, as soon as I saw it, I had greater Reason to congratulate my Eye-sight than before; for she was blest with the most ravishing Aspect, and a snug Face, most prodigiously grac’d with a dainty fine Nose, fasten’d in the Middle; which was not like some Snouts that look more upon one Cheek, than they do upon the other, but shew’d equal Prospect to both, not at all disobliging the Right, by fleering too much on the Left. And then for her Eyes, they are excellent at twiring, and would (I warrant you) be sure to keep the Nose safe, for one look’d one Way, and the other, another. The Woman had a Mouth too, which was somewhat bigger than that of a Blunderbuss, tho’ not twice as big as the capacious Bore of a _Winchester_ Quart-pot. This Mouth, she put but to one Use, and that’s the same we put ours to, that is, to eat three or four Meals in a Day; for it seems, whereas other Women often use theirs in Prating and Twatling, we perceiv’d, that this sav’d her Mouth, and spake through the Nose. As I have given you the Picture of her Person, so now I’ll present you with a Landskip of her Fortune. As for her Lands, that is, Pasture-Ground, and Meadow, we could not discern, but that (like a Spot upon the Globe) they took but little Room upon the Surface of the Earth; and (like the Possessions of _Alcibiades_) were but a little Speck to the World. A little Muck would dung her Fallow; one high Table T⸺ (to speak in the _Oxford_ Dialect) would much enrich it, and an Ear of Corn would go near to sow it: ’Tis like, she had Grass enough for a Couple of Rabbits. Having surveyed the Paramour, and the Portion of this snivelling Cobler, after a Treble go-down out of a Tin-Pot, a right Line Scrape with Left-Leg, and uncouth Doffing off a bad Bonnet, I return’d his Coblership Thanks for his Society, and solemnly took Leave of my Fellow-Traveller.

After this Departure, I was forc’d to beguile away the Time in the shady Solitude of silent Thoughts, which, before, I spent in the brisker Entertainments of Discourse and Dialogue. At length I came into _Cambridgeshire_, some Parts whereof seem’d to be a little _Arabia_ of Sand, enough (as I thought) to supply all the Hour-Glasses in the County; nay, perhaps, and that of Time too, till the last Minute. Arriving at the University of _Cambridge_, I lay at _Jesus_ College, in the Garden of which Place, I discover’d among some Ruins, the Snout, and some other Limbs of a murder’d Dial; yet it was not so defac’d, but that I could discover in its Physiognomy, some martyr’d Figures, that were yet legible, and there were some Reliques of Lines, that were not quite obliterated by Time, who, I presume, being vext that it should observe his Motions, had out of Envy and Malice, thus far set his Grinders in it, to deface it. Here, the Students, at _Oxford_, would be as drunk as any Woman, outswear a Life-guard-Man, or Horse-Grenadier; and eat, drink, and lie with any Body. But when I saw whole Shoals of great hulking Fellows, in such ragged Gowns, that our _London_ Bunters would scorn to pick ’em up, flocking about the Kitchen-door, some with Basons, some with Porringers, some with Pipkins, some with Pans, some with Chamber-Pots, and some with their very Caps, to beg College Broth; I thought the Scene a very lively Resemblance of poor Lazarus, begging for the Crumbs which fell from the Table of _Dives_.

Hence, I went into _Huntingdonshire_, which is a very proper County for unsuccessful Lovers to live in; for upon the Loss of their Sweethearts, they will here find an Abundance of Willow-Trees, so that they may either wear the Willow green, or hang themselves, which they please; but the latter is reckon’d the best Remedy for slighted Love. Passing through _Godmanchester_, I rambled to _Watford_ in _Hartfordshire_, near which Town, formerly stood _Langley-Abbey_, the Birth Place of _Nicholas Breakspear_, who in the Year 1154, being advanc’d to the Papal Dignity, assum’d the Name of _Adrian_ IV. and tho’ he had been a poor Servant, was so proud, as to excommunicate an Emperor of _Germany_, a _Sicilian_ King, and the Senators of _Rome_; for these Popes are sawcy Fellows, when they come to wear triple Crowns, as Kings of Heaven, Earth, and Hell; which last Place, they have enjoy’d by Hereditary Right and Succession, many Ages before the Reign of Pope _Joan_.

Going next into _Essex_, which is as subject to Agues, as the Hundreds of _Drury_ is to the Pox, and the whole County much noted for its excellent Calves, but the biggest of that Sort of Cattle are the Inhabitants. I pass’d through _Colchester_, and crossing the County, got into _Staffordshire_, where being inform’d at the City of _Lichfield_, that the Thief-taker-General of _England_ first receiv’d his damn’d stinking Breath in that County; I did not care for staying long there, for Fear, the Change of this Air should make me as vile, and double corrupted a ⸺ as himself. In case it should be this Fellow’s good Fortune to dance at _Tyburn_, betwixt Heaven and Earth, as being unworthy of either, the Ordinary of _Newgate_ may give this Account of him in his dying Speech; how that his Parentage was very obscure and mean; his Livelihood at first was obtaining Charity from Milk-Maids, and other Country Lasses, by squeezing pretty Ditties out of the Womb of a Bladder, with a Piece of Packthread; and if he should prove so harden’d at the Gallows, as to make no larger Confession of himself, set him down (like _Paul Lorrain_) obstinate. In fine, he had such a bad Character among his own Country-Men, that some said, it was great Pity he had not been hang’d as soon as he was breech’d; whilst others reply’d, that he ought never to die, but be toss’d from D⸺l to D⸺l, till there was no Hell left to toss him in any longer.

I soon made the best of my Way into _Shropshire_, where, at a little Town, or rather Village, call’d _Woor_, happen’d a sad Misfortune; for a certain Glass-Case, by Reason of the Rudeness of two lusty Pusses, but whether affrighted at their Catterwauling, or it being not able to bear them in the Acts of Love, I cannot tell which, but certain it was, it let go its Hold, and after a dismal Manner, came blundering down, attended with the Ruin of several Jiggumbobs, and Jimcracks, as the Ivory Gums of a toothless Comb, a little bottle-breech’d Glass replenish’d with Love Powder; a Brace of blind Needles, that lost their Eyes in the Fall; a double Scut of a Hare ty’d up with a single Packthread; the latter End of an old Broomstick; the Butt End of an old Sugar-Loaf; the true Lovers Knot made in Wire, a square bit of Tin, the Margin of a broad Hat, one Finger-Stall, two Taggs, a Fescue made of Brass Wire, a crack’d Glass with a Club-Foot, the Skin of an Onion stuft with Arsenick, and one Whisker of a bearded Arrow. But as one Misfortune seldom comes alone, so this was attended with another, for a young _Salopian_ Lass who was the Proprietor of these Things, took the Accident of them so much to Heart, that she very decently hang’d herself, to the no small Comfort, to be sure, of her Parents, who had six or seven Children, besides this unhappy Daughter, whom nobody could blame for this Piece of Rashness; for is it not a sad Thing to lose so commodious a Place, to lay pretty Things in, and all by the Misdemeanour of two unmannerly Cats? For where could this poor Creature afterwards have laid her Gally-Pots, Gums, and Pomatum? Had these Mousehunters only eas’d Nature there, and then jingerly departed, they had been very excusable, but first to come slily into a Ladies Chamber, and then to squabble and fall out there, and in the Midst of their Quarrel to pursue one another to the Top of a Shelf, and there to renew the Battle again, and to box one another ’till they fell themselves, and demolish’d that very Thing which supported them in their bickering, as the Fool in the Fable saw’d off the Bough he sat on, Oh! this is a very sad Thing indeed, and would make any other young Woman, who had no more Sense then she, hang herself likewise.

But bidding Adieu to the proud _Salopians_, I went into _Cheshire_, where the Towns ending much upon the _Wich_, as _Nantwich_, _Middlewich_, _Northwich_; I thought they affected the _Dutch_ Way of putting one Name to the End of their Towns, as _Rotterdam_, _Schiedam_, _Amsterdam_, and so forth.

In the City of _Chester_, I happened to lie at a Physician’s House, whose Pretences to Learning were very great, but by our Conversation, I found him to have more Stomach than Brains, and therefore was more like to have more Consolation in the Kitchin, than in a Study; for there, perhaps he might find a Jobb of Work for his Grinders; whereas he knew not what to do with his Books, unless he should act the Moth, and eat them. I perceiv’d his Parts to lie more towards the Powderingtub, than his _Pharmacopeia_; for whilst he was busy in the former, he might keep himself alive, but when he read in the latter, he would kill his Patients. We had some roast Beef for Supper; and I commonly found him within an Inch of the Dripping-pan, with an Acre of Bread in his Hand, which he call’d a Sop, and with it, when my Back was turn’d, he usually spung’d up the Dripping, whereby he cheated Sir-Loyn, and robb’d his Knighthood of its due Moisture. Hence, I went into the County of _Northumberland_, where I found _Newcastle_, almost entirely surrounded with Coal Pits, whence seeing Myriads of Men, as black as _Old Nick_, ascending out of the subterranean Shops, upon the Surface of the Earth, I imagin’d them to have been so many _Cyclops_ who had been helping _Vulcan_ to forge Thunderbolts for _Jupiter_. Not liking the Conversation of these _English_ Negroes, I stept over the River _Tine_ into the County of _Durham_, where, in the City bearing the same Name, I lay one Night; and next Morning taking my Leave of my Landlady, about half a Mile from the Town, I saw a Church-Yard, where was a whole Herd of Swine a routing, as if they had been turn’d in on Purpose to root up _Christians_, as they are in the Fields in _Italy_, to dig up Turfles. A little Wall lay sculking about this Territory of the dead, which I suppose, was plac’d there as a Bulwark to their Ashes; but it prov’d but a feeble Fence against the Intrusion of the Lambs, who made frequent Capreols into this silent Dormitory: The Mound was rais’d a little, capt with Turf, and environ’d with the Hollowness of a good handsome Ditch; but yet, neither Cap, nor Ditch could keep these Animals from leap-frogging over them, from grazing in a Charnel-House, and from turning a Cœmitery of Shades, and Ghosts into a feeding Pasture of hungry Beasts.

At last, I got into _Yorkshire_, where, beyond _Northallerton_, meeting with a Herdsman, I was almost frighted out of my Wits, for this Fellow was a strange Creature, wonderfully _Goth’d_, and be-_Vandall’d_, even to Barbarity itself. He was really a Clown in grain, an uncultivated Boor, a Beast of the Herd in Humane Shape. I propos’d a Query or two about the Genius of the County; he told me the Soil was cold, and big with Clay, and would doubtless yield a good Harvest of Tobacco-Pipes; and as for the Inhabitants, he said, they were a Pap-Pudding Sort of People, much addicted to that vile Sort of Creature. As he said, I saw a whole Table at a Christening, spread with a Yard of Pudding, and a Balk of Beef, a Ridge at one End and a Furrow at the other; which did so wonderfully work upon the Chaps of the Gossips, and make their Mouths water, that the Godfathers and Godmothers fell furiously to Snouting for some few Morsels; mean while the two ear’d Pitcher, that stood upon the Bench, was Mr. _Prynn’d_ in Scuffle, that is, lost a Lug in the Fray; and as I was afterwards inform’d, the Distaff lost a Lock or two of its flaxen Perriwig. The Women of this Country are very coming, and are as great Breeders, as any of our _English Quakers_; and as for the Men, they are naturally born Thieves, being as dextrous Rogues at Horse-Stealing as a Serjeant at the _Poultry_, or _Woodstreet-Compter_ in selling Minutes dearer than a Watchmaker. But among rational Wonders in a Village, where I say, the most remarkable ~WONDER~ was an eminent Cot-Quean, a meer Woman in the Habit of a Man, a Kind of _Mol Cut-Purse_ Creature, an Epicene Animal of a twisted Gender, who had a Petticoat Soul in a trunk-breech’d Body, and scandaliz’d Virility, by Skill in Housewifery. He spun (the Neighbours said) like a Spider, and made his Wheel giddy by a swift _Vertigo_. He was a learned Craftsman in the making of Diet, a notable Food-Framer, who buffeted Cream, till he frighted it into a Consistence, and then knocking it into Butter, squeez’d it afterwards with Dexterity of Fist. He was also endow’d with the Gift of tossing Pancakes, and had a wonderful Knack at tempering the Materials of a Bag-Pudding, insomuch, that he surpass’d all the Dairy-Maids in the Milk-Pan Accomplishments; and was also excellently well qualify’d for a Meal-Tub Office. Here I tasted of the Hospitality of this fœmasculine Wight, who spread a Jointstool with several Sorts of Viands, which though not very delicate, yet the Variety might attone and make amends for their Meanness. Here was the _Epidermis_ of a Hog, the outward Skin, call’d the Sword of Bacon, which was infected with the Jaundies, for it look’d very yellow; next, was the Hull of a Pescod, plunder’d of its Pease, and corn’d with Salt; some broken Fragments of Sheeps Trotters, _St. Laurenc’d_ on a Gridiron; the minc’d Spurs of a bootless Cock, a skin’d Quadrant of soft Cheese, well sawc’d with the Butt-ends of forked Scallions; and the mouldy Reversion of an antiquated Loaf, dipt in the Verdure Watercresses Pottage, which afforded me the Refreshment of a pretty Collation: After which I went to Bed, and slept very sound till next Morning. When, getting that Day, into _Newark_ upon _Trent_, _Nottinghamshire_, I was no sooner arriv’d into the Navel of the Town, but I saw such an Assembly of Provision as represented a Market, which was unhappily disturb’d by an unfortunate Accident; for a certain Bull of an uncertain Man, having mistaken his Box, and taken Pepper in the Nose instead of Snuff, and being enrag’d and heated by Virtue of the Spice, took a frisk about the Cross, and empty’d by his Ramble all Stalls and Panniers; so that this brisk Customer made a scrambling kind of Dinner for the whole County; for the Mob, _alias_ the civiliz’d Rabble, was riding upon one anothers Backs for Viands and Booty, and was tumbling among the Ruins of Bakers, Butchers, and Costermongers.

Hence I made a Pilgrimage to _Grantham_ in _Lincolnshire_, where a little out of Town I over took a Fellow, who began to strike up with his Pipe, and thinking he had but one, he presently perceiv’d it to be multiply’d into an Organ, and wonder’d (with the Bumpkin that pull’d at the Bellows) that he had so much Harmony in him. For you must know hereabouts dwelt a Thing call’d an _Eccho_, who as soon as she heard _Sol_, _fa_, whip! she improv’d the Melody into Noise and Consort; presently increasing those single Notes into the whole _Gamut_; and most neatly play’d the Wag with the Tail of his Voice, being a very pretty Songster, that sings well by the Ear. But leaving the Piper by himself to solace with the tatling Reverberation of Voice, I proceeded on my Journey into _Rutlandshire_, the least County in _England_, where at _Oakham_, the Shire-Town, is a Custom, that when a Nobleman comes on Horseback within its Precincts, the Inhabitants make him pay the Homage of a Shoe from his Horse, or take Money for it. And so exorbitant is this Custom grown now, that if a Lady, be she as tall as long _Meg_ of _Westminster_, or as short as the little Woman, that was carried formerly about the Country in a Box, as fat as the Royal Sovereign the largest first Rate Fire-Ship that sails _Drury-Lane_, and the narrow Seas contiguous to it, or as lank as _Pharaoh_’s lean Kine, they would swear she was a _Flander_’s Mare, and presently take toll from her Foot. This Sharpness hath made most of the _Rutlandshire_ People, much addicted to the Vice of Theft; every Thing sticks to their pitchy Fingers; and they have such an attractive Virtue, that wherever they come, all Things trot after the Magnetism of their Persons. A Fellow squating upon a Criket in a Room I was in, and rising up from his Seat, the Stool on a Sudden (as if tackt to his Backside) immediately march’d after him, to the great Amazement of the Woman of the House, who did not suspect, that his Bum had Hands, or that her Stool so nimbly could have us’d its Legs. Another espying a Cylinder of Bag-Pudding pretty Thick in the Waste, lolling upon the Table, whilst the Hostess turn’d her Back, in the very twinkling of her Head, pocuss’d it into Fob, and so shrouded its Dimensions into a second Bag. Moreover observing a joulter headed Fellow, looking very wishfully at my Head, fearing he had some Design upon what few Brains I had, to furnish his own empty Noddle; I presently paid my Reckoning, and made the best of my Way for _London_; where I was no sooner arriv’d, but perceiving most People murmuring at the great Indulgence then extended to the _Dissenters_, I composed (at the earnest Request of some Friends) the following Lines on Toleration.