_Tick_. Hum, verily, Sir, though I say it, for a Man that never travell’d before, I think I have done reasonably well--I’ll tell you, Sir--it was by my directions and advice that he brought over with him,--two _English_ Knives, a thousand of _English_ Pins, four pair of _Jersey_ Stockings, and as many pair of Buckskin Gloves. Sir _Sig_. Ay, Sir, for good Gloves you know are very scarce Commodities in this Country. _Jul_. Here, Sir, at _Rome_, as you say, above all other places. _Tick_. _Certo_, mere hedging Gloves, Sir, and the clouterlest Seams. _Fil_. Very right, Sir,--and now he talks of _Rome_,--Pray, Sir, give me your opinion of the Place--Are there not noble Buildings here, rare Statues, and admirable Fountains? _Tick_. Your Buildings are pretty Buildings, but not comparable to our University Buildings; your Fountains, I confess, are, pretty Springs,-- and your Statues reasonably well carv’d--but, Sir, they are so ancient they are of no value: then your Churches are the worst that ever I saw-- that ever I saw. _Gal_. How, Sir, the Churches, why I thought _Rome_ had been famous throughout all _Europe_ for fine Churches. _Fil_. What think you of St. _Peter’s_ Church, Sir? Is it not a glorious Structure? _Tick_. St. _Peter’s_ Church, Sir, you may as well call it St. _Peter’s_ Hall, Sir; it has neither Pew, Pulpit, Desk, Steeple, nor Ring of Bells; and call you this a Church, Sir? No, Sir, I’ll say that for little _England_, and a fig for’t, for Churches, easy Pulpits, [Sir _Sig. speaks_, And sleeping Pews,] they are as well ordered as any Churches in Christendom: and finer Rings of Bells, Sir, I am sure were never heard. _Jul_. Oh, Sir, there’s much in what you say. _Fil_. But then, Sir, your rich Altars, and excellent Pictures of the greatest Masters of the World, your delicate Musick and Voices, make some amends for the other wants. _Tick_. How, Sir! tell me of your rich Altars, your Guegaws and Trinkets, and Popish Fopperies, with a deal of Sing-song--when I say, give me, Sir, five hundred close Changes rung by a set of good Ringers, and I’ll not exchange ‘em for all the Anthems in _Europe_: and for the Pictures, Sir, they are Superstition, idolatrous, and flat Popery. _Fil_. I’ll convince you of that Error, that persuades you harmless Pictures are idolatrous. _Tick_. How, Sir, how, Sir, convince me! talk to me of being convinc’d, and that in favour of Popery! No, Sir, by your favour I shall not be convinc’d: convinc’d, quoth a!--no, Sir, fare you well, an you be for convincing: come away, Sir _Signal_, fare you well, Sir, fare you well:-- convinc’d! [_Goes out_. Sir _Sig_. Ha, ha, ha, so now is my Governour gone in a Fustian-fume: well, he is ever thus when one talks of Whoring and Religion: but come, Sir, walk in, and I’ll undertake, my Tutor shall beg your Pardon, and renounce his _English_ ill-bred Opinion; nay, his _English_ Churches too--all but his own Vicaridge.