ERASMUS'S DIALOGUE, ENTITLED VIRGO MIZOFAMOƐ, OR THE

MARRIAGE-HATING MAIDEN.

Eubulus.-Catharine.

Eu. I rejoice that dinner is at last over, and that we are at leisure to enjoy this delightful walk.

CA. It was quite wearisome to sit so long at table.

Eu. How every thing smiles around us! Truly this is

the very youth and spring-time of the world.

CA. It is so, indeed!

Eu. And why is it not with thee also the spring-time of smiles and joy?

CA. Wherefore do you ask such a question?

Eu. Because I perceive a sadness in your countenance. CA. Are my looks then different from what they are wont to be?

Eu. Would you like me to show you to yourself?

CA. Of all things.

Eu. You see this rose.

Observe how, as the night ap

proaches, it contracts its leaves.

CA. Well! and what then?

Eu. It thus presents you with an image of your own coun

tenance.

CA. A most excellent comparison !

Eu. If you will not believe me, look at yourself in this little fountain. Those frequent sighs, too, during dinner-tell me what could be the meaning of them?

CA. Question me no farther. The subject is one in which you are not concerned.

Eu. Nay, Catharine: it cannot but concern one whose

happiness is bound up in thine. Another sigh? Alas! how deeply drawn!

CA. My mind is in a state of great anxiety; but I cannot safely mention the cause.

Eu. What! not even to him who loves thee better than he loves his own sister? Fear not, dearest Catharine; let the secret of thy affliction be what it may, rest assured that it is safe in my keeping.

CA. That may be; but I should tell it to one who would give me no assistance.

Eu. How know you that? I might, at least, have it in my power to aid you by advice and consolation.

CA. I cannot tell thee.

Eu. How is this? You hate me, then, Catharine.

CA. Yes; if I can hate my own brother; and yet I cannot bring myself to tell thee.

Eu. Should I be able to guess the cause of your suffering, will

you confess it? Nay, do not turn away: promise me, or else I will never cease to importune thee.

CA. Well, I promise.

Eu. I do not at all understand what can be wanting to make you perfectly happy.

CA. O that my condition were really such as you conceive it to be!

Eu. In the first place, you are in the flower of your age; for if I mistake not, you are now in your seventeenth year. CA. Just so.

Eu. The apprehension then of old age cannot, I suppose, be the source of your trouble?

CA. Nothing in the world troubles me less.

Eu. You have a form that is perfect in every part; and this is one of God's chief gifts.

CA.

plain.

Of my form, such as it is, I neither boast nor com

Eu. Then your colour and habit of body indicate that you are in sound health-unless indeed

some secret disease.

you carry about you

CA. Nothing of the kind, I thank God.

EU. Your character moreover is unspotted.

Eu. You have a mind also worthy of the body wherein it dwells; a mind of the happiest disposition, and as apt as I could desire for every liberal pursuit and study.

CA.

Whatever it may be, it is the gift of God.

Eu. Neither is there any want of that loveliest grace of moral excellence, the absence of which is too often to be regretted in forms of the most perfect beauty.

CA. It is certainly my desire that my behaviour should be such as becomes my situation.

Eu. Many are dejected in mind on account of the infelicity of their birth; but you, on the contrary, have parents of honourable descent and of virtuous manners-possessed also of an ample fortune, and attached to you with the fondest affection.

CA. I have nothing, in this respect, to complain of. Eu. In a word, of all the maidens in this neighbourhood there is not one (were some propitious star to shine whom I would choose for a wife but thee.

CA.

upon me)

And I, if I had any wish to marry, would desire no other husband than thyself.

Eu. Surely then it must be something very extraordinary which can occasion you so much trouble?

CA. Something of no light moment, be assured.

Eu. Will you not take it ill if I divine what it is?

CA. I have already promised not to do so.

Eu. Well then, experience has taught me what pain there is in love. Come, confess, according to your promise.

CA. To say the truth, love is the cause; but not the kind of love you mean.

Eu. I have done; my stock of conjecture is exhausted: and yet I will not let go this hand of thine till I wrest thy secret from thee.

CA. How violent you are!

Eu. Only confide it to me, whatever it may be.

CA. Well, since you are so very urgent about it, I will tell you. Know then, that from my tenderest years a passion of an extraordinary nature has possessed me.

EU. What can it be? to become a nun ?

CA. Just so.

Eu. Hem! I have gained a loss !

CA. What is it you say, Eubulus ?

Eu. Nothing, my love: I only coughed. Go on, I pray

you.

CA. The desire I have mentioned to you was always opposed by my parents with the greatest pertinacity.

Eu. I understand.

CA. On the other hand, I, for my part, never ceased to besiege their affection with entreaties, caresses, and tears. Eu. You surprise me.

CA. At length my perseverance in this course so far prevailed upon them that they promised that, if I should continue in the same mind upon my entering into my seventeenth year, they would then yield to my wishes: that year is now arrived; my desire remains unchanged; and yet, in opposition

to their promise they positively refuse to gratify it: this it is that troubles me. I have now disclosed to you the nature of my disease: prescribe the remedy if you have any.

Eu. In the first place, let me counsel you, sweetest maiden, to moderate your desires; and if you cannot obtain what you would, to wish for no more than what may be in your power to obtain.

CA. I shall die if I do not obtain the present object of my wishes.

EU. But what could have given rise to this fatal passion? CA. Some years ago, when quite a girl, I was taken into a convent, where they led me about and showed me every thing. I was charmed with the sweet looks of the nuns, who seemed to me like so many angels; and was delighted with the beautiful appearance of every thing in the chapel, and with the fragrance and pleasantness of gardens, dressed and cultivated with the nicest art. In short, whichever In short, whichever way I turned my eyes, every thing smiled upon me. Add to this, the pleasant conversation I had with the nuns themselves, some of whom I discovered to have been my playfellows during my childhood. From this period it was that I conceived the ardent desire I have to adopt the same kind of life.

Eu. It certainly is not my intention to reprobate the institution of nunneries *, though the same things are not of equal advantage to all; and yet, from my opinion of the nature of your disposition, such as it appears to me from your countenance and manners, my advice to you would be, to marry a husband of a character similar to your own, and thus give rise to a new

*... Mihi aliud dictabat animus, aliud scribebat calamus," is the melancholy acknowledgment which Erasmus made of his own want of courage.