One dialogue, or Colloquye of Erasmus.
by Desiderius Erasmus.
-- The Translator to the indifferent reader.
If I were throughlye perswaded (g[~e]tle reader) y^t mine attempt of the learned were in all points allowed and the order in my translation correspondent thereunto, I woulde at this present proceede in mine enterprise, with entent by G.o.ds helpe to finishe the translation of the whole boke: But because I am vnlearned & therfore must not be mine owne iudge therein, I geue the here a tast of my store for proofe of mine abilitie: desiring the at the least wise not to be offended at the same so boldly attemted and simplye perfourmed. For sithe mine entent is good, & my good wil not small I dare at this present yelde it to thy curtesye. Fare wel.
-- Thine in will (though not in power) E.H.
_Diuersoria._
-- The speakers.
_Bertulphe._ _William._
Why haue men taken suche pleasure and felicity (I pray you) in tariynge ii.
or iii. dayes at Lions together, when they trauaile through the contrey? if I fall to trauailinge once, be fore suche time as I be come vnto my iourneyes ende, me thinks I am neuer at quiet in my mind.
William.
-- Say ye so indeede? And I put you out of doubt, I wonder howe men can bee withdrawen thence againe after they be once come thether.
Bertulphe.
-- Yea doe? And how so I pray you?
William.
-- Mary sir because that is the verye place from whence Ulisses companions coulde in no wise be gotten by perswasion. There are the sweet Mermaides (that are spoken of) I warrant ye. a.s.suredlie, no man is better vsed at home at his own house then a guest is entertained there in a common Inne.
Bertulphe.
-- Why? What is their order and vsage there?
William.
-- Some woman or other did alwayes attende vpon the table to cheere the company with pleasaunt talke and prety conceites. And I tell you the women are meruailous bewtiful and wel fauoured there. Firste of all the good wife of the house came & welcomed vs, praying vs all there to bee merye, and to take well in woorthe suche poore cheere as shee hadde prouided: when shee was gone, in commeth her Daughter (beeinge a verye proper woman) and tooke her roome: also whose behauioure and tongue were so pleasaunt and delectable, that she was able to make euen the grimme Sire Cato to bee merye and laugh, and besyde that they doe not talke wyth theyr guestes as with men whome they neuer sawe before, but euen so famylyarlye and freendlye, as if they were menne that were of their olde acquaintaunce.
Bertulphe.
-- Yea, thys is the ciuilytye of Fraunce in deede.
William.
-- And because the Mother and the Daughter coulde not bee alwayes in the waye (for that they muste goe aboute theyr houssholde businesse, and welcome their other guestes in other places) a pretye little minion Girle stode forthe there by and by (hauinge learned her liripuppe and lesson alreadye in all pointes I warraunte you) to make all the pastime that mighte be possible, and to aunswere (at omnia quare) all such as shoulde be busye to talke and dally with her, So shee didde prolonge or vpholde the Enterlude, till the goodwifes Daughter came vnto vs againe. For as for the mother she was somewhat striken in yeres.
Bertulphe.
-- Yea but tell vs what good cheere yee had there (I praye you) for a manne cannot fill his bellye with pleasaunte talke you knowe well inoughe.
William.
-- I promise you faithfullye wee had notable good chere there, in so much that I wonder how they can entertaine their guestes so good cheape as they doe. And then when our table was tak[~e] vp, they fedde oure mindes wyth their merye deuises, leaste wee shoulde thinke the time werysome. Me thought I was euen at home at mine owne house, and not a trauayler abroade in a straunge co[~u]try.
Bertulphe.
-- And what was the facion in your bed chambers there?
William.
-- Why? some wenches went in euerye corner giggelinge there, playing the wantons, and dalying with vs, of their owne motion they would aske whether we had any foule gere to washe or no. That they washed and brought vs cleane againe, what should I make a longe proces or circ.u.mstance, we sawe nothinge els there but wenches and wemen sauinge in the stable. And yet many times they would fetche their vagaries in thether also. When the guestes be going awaye, they embrace them, and take their leaue sweetlye with suche kindnes and curtesye, as if they were all brethern, or (at least) nighe a kinne the one to the other.
Bertulphe.
-- This behauiour doth well beseme Frenchmen peraduenture, how be it the fashions of d.u.c.h.e lande[1] shall go for my monye when all is done, which are altogether manlike.
William.
-- Yt was neuer my chaunce to see the Contreye yet: and therfore I pray you take so muche paine as to tell in what sorte they entertaine a straunger with them.
Bertulphe.
-- I am not sure whether it be so in euerye place or no, but I will not sticke to reherse that whiche I haue sene with mine owne eyes. There no man biddeth him welcome that comes, lest they shuld seme to go about to procure a guest. And that of all sauces, they accompt a dishonest and beggarly thing, and vnmete for their demurenes & grauetie. After you haue stoode cryinge oute at the doore a good while, at the length some one or other pereth out his hed at the stoue[2] window like as a snaile should pepe out of his sh.e.l.l: for they liue ther in stoues, til the somer be almoste in the Tropick of Cancer. Then must you aske of him, whether you may haue a lodging there or no? yf he do not geue a contrary beck with his hed, you may perceiue, that you shall haue entertainment. To those whiche aske where aboutes the stable standes, he pointes vnto it with the wagging of his hand. There maye you vse youre horse after your own diet, for no seruaunt of the house shall once lay handes vnto it to help you. But if it bee an Inne some what occupied or haunted, th[~e] the seruaunt sheweth there which is the stable, & telleth you also a place where your horse shal std, full vnhansomely for that purpose G.o.d knoweth for they reserue the better romes for the after commers, specially for the n.o.ble men, yf you finde any fault with any thinge, by an by they snub you with this: Sir, if mine Inne please you not, goe seeke an other elsewhere in the name of G.o.d in cities, it is longe ere they wil bring you hay forthe for your horse, and when they do bring it, it is after a niuer facion[3] I warraunt you, and yet will they aske asmuch mony of you for it (in a maner) as if it were Otes. After your horse is once dressed you come with all your cariage into the stoue with Bootes, Male, or Packe, and with Dirte, Bag and Baggage and all. Euery man is vsed to this generally.
William.
-- In Fraunce they haue certaine chaumbers for the nonce, where guests may put of their clothes may wipe or make clean th[~e] selues, may warme them selues: yea may take their ease to, if they bee so disposed.
Bertulphe.
-- Yea, but here is no suche facions I tel you. In the stoue, you pul of youre Bootes, you pull on youre Shooes, you chaunge youre Shirt if you bee so minded, you hange vp youre clothes all weate, with raine harde by the Chimney, and to make youre selfe drye doe stande by the same your selfe, you haue also water sette readye for your handes, which moste commonly is so clenlye, that you muste after seeke other water, to washe of that water againe.
William.
-- I commende them as menne not corrupted with to much finenesse or daintinesse.
Bertulphe.
-- Thoughe it be youre chaunce to come thether about iiii. of the clocke at afternoone, yet shall you not go to supper for all that vntill it be nine of the clocke at night, and sometime not before tenne.
William.
-- How so?
Bertulphe.