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.